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berrynarrybanana · 3 years

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Deck the Halls - pt. 1

A/N: Ummmm.....so this is kind of like a Christmas fic, but it turned out very different than I expected it to. It’s more of a...wintery suspense type thing with an actual lengthy as fuck plot, but the romance is strong from the beginning. I tried to keep it in one post, but the word count is simply too much for me to put in one post. I plan on updating everything that I have so that you all can indulge in the story while I finish it up. I know that this might not be everyone’s cup of hot chocolate, but I hope that some of you enjoy it! I haven’t really done anything of this nature before, so I’m kind of nervous about the whole thing. I hope that you all had a wonderful holiday, and I can’t wait for us to ring in the new year together! I love you all loads!

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, smut, fluff....other things i can’t remember at this moment?

November 1

Harry is walking through the snow.

The soft sound of snow crunching under his boots and the wind whipping around him is all that he can hear at first. He feels cold, but he’s been colder than this. His hand feels warm, though his hands are bare. He glances down, his eyes locking on an emerald green mitten. He feels the fingers in the mitten flex, gripping his hand tightly. He trails his eyes up the arm covered in a light green coat, freezing when he sees the curly tendrils of snow white hair draped over her shoulder. He knows instantly who it is, and he knows exactly how this dream will end.

When his eyes finally land on rich, berry red lips, he feels his breath catch in his throat. He’s never seen her face before this. She’s usually drowning by the time he gets to the lake, already under the block of ice as the man with blue hair holds her under. He can’t help but stare, taking in the beautiful and ethereal features of her face. It’s almost as if she isn’t real at all, from the color of her skin to the pointed tips of her ears. The hair was strange, but he’d gotten used to the beyond platinum shade over the years. It wasn’t so shocking to him anymore.

Harry turns his attention from the girl when he hears a twig snap, his gaze dropping to the snow covered floor of the forest they've been walking through. He wasn’t sure why they were walking in the woods, or where they were going, but he was happy to be spending time by her side. He was happy that he wasn’t watching her die for once, her beautiful face still full of life as her lips moved. She was talking, but he couldn’t hear a word that she said. All he could hear was the wind and the snow, a whistle and a crunch echoing in his ears as if he had winter sounds playing from a quality stereo.

He hated that he couldn’t hear her.

He hated that he didn’t know where they were going.

But suddenly, it all becomes clear.

The lake.

“Don’t.” Harry croaks out through chapped lips, squeezing her fingers in an attempt to get her attention. Her lips stop moving as he pulls her closer, but she offers him a sad smile. “We shouldn’t-”

“It’s alright.” He can finally hear her voice, the sound something akin to Christmas bells being softly run in the middle of the night. “We have to go.”

“You can hear me.” He breathes out, his eyes stinging due to the wind, and the inevitable tragedy that’s about to occur. “You can hear me and I can hear you.”

“I guess so.” She glances up, an amused smile curling the corners of her lips as she hums out.

When she looks back down at Harry, he loses his breath.

“What’s your name?” She asks, turning her back towards the lake, giving him her full attention.

“Harry.” He whispers the word, almost as if he’s afraid for anyone else to hear it. “I...who are you?”

“I can’t tell you.” He watches her face fall, her expression going dismal. “But I want to.”

“You can tell me anything.” He moves closer, squeezing her fingers. “Talk to me, love.”

“I can’t say it.” Her brows furrow in frustration. “It won’t come out, no matter how hard I try to say it.”

“Why is this happening to us?” He presses, moving his feet closer. “Why do you drown every single time? Why can’t I save you?”

“I don’t know.” She glances down, her cheeks losing their glow. “I wish that you could save me, Harry.”

“I’ll try harder this time.” He gulps, his throat tightening as tears threaten his eyes. “I’ll try harder to save you, I promise.”

“But you won’t save me.” She looks up, her own eyes glossed over with unshed tears. “It’s okay, Harry. It was meant to be this way.”

“No, I don’t believe it.” He shakes his head. “I can save you.”

She shakes her head, slowly backing away from him.

“We have to go now.” She says softly, her feet carrying her towards the iced over lake.

Harry notices a pair of skates dangling over her shoulders.

“No, don’t go.” He reaches out for her, but she continues to move away. “Don’t leave me.”

“I have to.” She steps onto the ice, the soft cracking noises causing Harry’s eyes to grow wide with panic. “Save me, Harry.”

And just like that, it’s all over.

November 2 Harry’s POV - Age 21

Harry pushes the door to Paradise Records open, watching a few flakes of paint fall to the concrete stoop outside of his shop. He made a mental note to buy some paint to touch up the door before the holiday season started.

He could feel the frustration creeping up his spine at the mere thought of Christmas, and it was times like these that he wished the world had sympathy for those who hated the holiday. He hated to give into the global phenomenon, but it did bring in enough business and revenue to keep the shop afloat until the annual summer sale rolled around in June.

He sipped at his bitter, black coffee, walking into the record store with a relieved sigh. This was truly his paradise where he escaped from the demons that haunted his mind. For a split second, he was finally at peace after the grueling nightmare he endured. That peace was quickly disturbed by the jingling of bells from the front door, causing Harry to frown as he turned on his heels.

“Another beautiful day in paradise, eh boss!” Niall clapped his hand down on Harry’s shoulder on his way towards the checkout counter, causing Harry to bite back a whine of discomfort. “How are you today?”

There were knots in Harry’s shoulders causing him pain, and most of them were caused by the cheery Irish lad pushing behind the checkout counter.

“Good morning, Niall.” Harry turned towards the boy with a sarcastic smile. “Why are you always so bloody loud.”

“You knew I was loud when ya’ hired me, I put it under my strengths on my job application.” Niall called out as he walked through the beaded curtain to the back office, whistling a tune that made Harry’s ears ache.

“I didn’t know that you were a fucking foghorn, mate.” Harry hiked his leather bag higher up on his shoulder, fighting off a yawn as he followed slowly in Niall’s footsteps.

“Did you have a long night?” Niall popped out from the beaded curtain, causing Harry to jump as he made it behind the counter. “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah, long night.” Harry grumbled, shutting the employee gate at the end of the counter. “You watch the front for a few hours, I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on.”

“Sure.” Niall nodded as Harry pushed through the curtain. “If you need anymore coffee, just let Mitch know. He’s stopping at Java Java before he comes in.”

Harry pulled out his phone, typing a quick text telling Mitch not to get Niall coffee.

He didn’t need any more energy.

He needed a proper nights rest.

Harry sat down at his desk, putting his coffee by his keyboard with a heavy sigh.

There wasn’t enough espresso in the world to fix the aching in his head caused by the nightmare he had last night. In the sixteen years that he’d been having the recurring nightmare, he was never able to talk to her in the dream. He was still haunted by the beautiful sound of her voice when she spoke to him, but he was mostly haunted by the sound of her desperate pleas for help. But his feet were frozen solid to the ground as the man with ice blue hair held her under the water. He emerged from the cracks in the ice this time, pulling the girl under with him as she screamed for her life. Harry remembers screaming for her until his throat was sore, but when he woke up this morning, he felt fine.

Harry brushed his palms over his face, inhaling sharply as he tried to push the image of her face from his mind. He didn’t need to spend the rest of his day thinking about her. He needed to get to work. There was a lot that he needed to do in preparation for Christmas. Every single year, parents and Uni students would come into Paradise Records and buy out his record players, and usually all of his Christmas albums. He’d already pre-ordered Christmas albums, but he needed to get in contact with the shipping company and the manufacturer to make sure they all arrived on time for the Christmas sale.

“Hey boss,” Niall’s sudden shout made Harry flinch, muttering a curse under his breath at the Irish lad. “Gemma is here.”

“Tell her to come back.” Harry called back, reaching into his bag in search of his glasses with his left hand while he booted up his computer with his right hand.

He hated wearing glasses, but Gemma bought them for him last Christmas when he opened the shop, insisting that they would improve the quality of his eyesight by blocking out the blue light in most devices. He did notice a slight difference in the quality of his vision after using them.

“Look at you, a dapper young man in his glasses.” Gemma pushed Noah’s pram into Harry’s office, the toddler screeching out the second his eyes landed on his uncle. “Alright, young man, Mum isn’t superwoman. I can’t move that fast.”

“You have five seconds to hand me my nephew before I start screaming with him.” Harry teased, looking at Noah with a wide smile. “I’ve missed you, mate.”

“It’s been three days, not three months.” Gemma huffed out, unbuckling the straps on the pram until Noah was free of restraint. “Alright, you can stop your crying now dove, uncle knobhead is right here.”

Harry scowled at his sister, leaning up to grab his nephew by the waist with ease.

“Harry.” Noah screeched, patting his palms against Harry’s cheeks. “Hi.”

“Hi, bubba.” Harry kissed over Noah’s face, causing him to giggle out as Gemma found a seat on the opposite side of Harry’s desk. “You know he’s not going to leave here without throwing a fit, right?”

“I know.” Gemma let out a breathy laugh laced with frustration. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“You’re welcome.” Harry settled Noah in his lap, resting his hand on Noah’s lap so that he could entertain himself by playing with the rings on his uncle’s fingers. “What brings you by?”

“I just wanted to talk to you about Christmas.” Gemma said softly, watching Harry’s face change from curious to furious in two seconds flat. “I know, you still don’t feel ready to celebrate after Mum and Dad, but I think we should start easing back into it. Noah is getting older, and we’ve got friends who-”

“I’ll do it for Noah, but I don’t want to celebrate with other people.” Harry interrupted. “I still don’t get how can you be okay with it, Gemma? They died because of some stupid Christmas tradition.”

“So are we supposed to hate pancakes now?” She tossed her hands up with an eye roll. “You drive a bloody car, don’t you? The pancakes didn’t kill them, Harry. Some reckless driver knocked into their car.”

“It’s not-”

“You’re being childish, Harry.” Gemma snapped at her younger brother, shaking her head. “Christmas isn’t the thing that killed Mum and Dad. I know that it sucks, having the anniversary of their death on your favorite holiday, but you have to deal with this. You can’t keep pushing it off like this.”

“I can, and I will.” He said, clearing his throat as his sister shook her head. “I don’t want to be happy without them on such a terrible day, Gemma.”

“I really think you should talk to someone about this.” She sighed, brushing her palms over her thighs. “I think it would do you some good to work out the issues you have surrounding this whole thing. I’ve been talking to someone since it happened, and it’s really helped me cope.”

“I don’t need help.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Gemma.”

“It’s not fine, and the fact that you don’t seem to realize that worries me the most.” She whispered. “You’re drowning in your own grief, and I can’t save you.”

Harry froze, his eyes snapping back to his sister.

“What did you just say to me?” He asked her, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I said it’s like you’re drowning in your own grief.” She said slowly, tilting her head with narrowed eyes as Harry stared back at her like she’d stepped on his foot. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Because…..” He paused, licking over his bottom lip as he inhaled sharply, shaking his head. It was best not to mention the nightmares, or the girl. “Nothing.”

“There you go again.” She let out a bitter laugh, smacking her thighs. “You can’t keep everything bottled in forever, Harry.”

But this, I should keep bottled in.

“It seems to be working out alright.” Harry shrugged, searching for something to change the subject. “How are we on presents for little man this year? Did you get everything on your list?”

“Yeah, nearly.” Gemma mumbled, picking at a loose strand of thread on her scarf. “Niall has helped me get most of the shopping done when I’m at work. He’s truly a godsend, Harry. I’m so happy he lives close by, and that Noah loves him.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at his sister, previous suspicions about Niall and Gemma creeping back into his mind. He always knew there was something between the two, but he could never get a straight answer out of either of them on their feelings. Gemma swore that he was only a friend, and a good neighbor. Niall swore that he only hung around Gemma to hang out with Noah. Harry pressed his lips together, watching as Gemma’s cheeks turned pink, the soft color giving away their secrets in an instant. Normally, she was better at hiding it.

“What?” She squeaked out, shifting in her chair.

“You slept with Niall, didn't you?” Harry said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “You finally bit the bullet and slept with him.”

“Harry, Noah is right there.” Gemma’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t say things like that in front of him!”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Gemma! Who was watching Noah when you were getting it on with Niall of all people!” Harry asked, his brows lifting up towards his hairline. “Noah doesn’t know what that means, calm down.”

Gemma snapped her mouth shut, sinking in her chair.

Harry wasn’t really mad, but he enjoyed teasing Gemma.

Niall was a good guy.

“My poor nephew.” Harry tutted, shaking his head before he pressed a kiss to the soft ginger hair on top of Noah’s head. “I’m so sorry, buddy. I’ll make sure to dock Niall’s pay to help out with the therapy you’re going to need when you’re older.”

“Alright, we get it.” Gemma grumbled, crossing her arms with a frown. “I’m a terrible mother and a horrible sister.”

“Hey.” Harry snapped, turning his attention back towards his sister with furrowed brows and a deep frown. “I never said that, and I never will. I’m only teasing you because you slept with fucking lucky charms out there, I’m not shaming you as a woman or a mother in anyway. You’re allowed to have fun, Gemma.”

“I know.” Her lips curved into a smile as her brother nodded, glancing at Noah as the toddler tried to pull off his Grateful Dead ring. It seemed to be his nephew’s favorite ring, and Harry couldn’t wait until Noah was old enough to wear it himself. “I’ve raised you well.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry rolled his eyes with a playful snort. “I just don’t want to hear about you and Niall’s sex life ever again, capiche?”

“Got it.” She nodded, trying not to smile. “He’s a really good guy, Harry, and I really like him a lot. I would also love it if he could spend Christmas with us.”

Realization dawned over Harry as he looked at his sister.

So that’s what this is about.

“You want him to spend Christmas with the three of us?” Harry asked. “Like, as a family?”

“We’re gonna ease Niall into it, but I think so.” She softly laughed. “Noah adores him, Harry, and quite frankly so do I.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at his nephew with hesitation.

These two were all that he had left in the world, and bloody Niall was trying to take them away.

But maybe she needed someone like Niall in her life to balance out all of the bad that loomed over her head. The Irishman was supportive, and positive no matter what situation he was in. He was loyal and kind to everyone he met, and he was honest, and genuinely the best at giving advice. Harry hated to admit it, but Niall was everything Harry used to be. He couldn’t be that positive influence that his sister and nephew needed anymore, but Niall could.

So maybe he needed to let them move on.

“Yeah.” Harry whispered. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” Gemma smiled. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“I can’t believe-”

“Oh, actually-” Gemma held up her hand, interrupting Harry. “I am also asking that you won’t kill him when I leave.”

“That’s asking a lot.” Harry blew out a breath, shaking his head. “I’m definitely allowed at least one punch, Gemma. My best mate slept with my sister, c’mon.”

“Please don’t punch him, he bruises like a peach.” Gemma groaned.

“How do you know that?” Harry’s brows lifted before they fell, a look of disgust washing over his face as Gemma pressed her lips together. “That’s fucking gross! I didn’t need to know that!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Did you tell him?” Niall’s head poked into Harry’s office. “Did he call me his best mate a second ago?”

“I’m going to punch you.” Harry lifted his free hand, pointing at Niall. “You’re lucky I have Noah in my lap, mate.”

“But I bruise like a peach!” Niall looked at Gemma with wide eyes. “Did ya tell him, love?”

“I did.” She nodded, but she pursed her lips in defeat. “I can’t help you with this one, Ni.”

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Niall groaned. “I knew I should have taken those self defense classes with you Gem.”

Harry watched Niall sulk out of his office, Gemma glaring at Harry before she got up to follow her new loverboy. Harry rolled his eyes before glancing down to Noah. The toddler dropped his head back against Harry’s chest, lifting his uncle’s hand up to chew on one of his fingers with a sparkle in his eyes.

“This is your fault, mate.” Harry said softly, not a stitch of malice in his voice. “I’m only agreeing to this because I love you more than anyone else in the world, and I expect you to change my nappies in return when I’m old, do you hear me?”

“Harry.” Noah gurgled out, a gummy smile melting Harry’s fake stern expression. “Harry, hi!”

“I love you.” Harry pressed soft kisses all over Noah’s face. “You’re my favorite human... even if you don’t have any teeth.”

November 3 Holland’s POV

Holland felt like she was going to vomit as she walked through the halls of Santa’s workshop.

As the elves watched her with judgmental, licorice colored eyes, her palms started to sweat, and her feet moved faster. Her father requested her for an urgent meeting, but Holland truly had no idea what it could be about. She hadn’t told anyone about her dreams, afraid that people would think she was crazy for having them. She was used to the dreams, but last night’s dream put her on edge. Something was different about the situation, and it wasn’t just the fact that she knew the boy’s name.

For the first time since they started, she saw his face.

She would admit without shame that she would die over and over again in her dream if it meant she could look at him. His hair was shoulder length and the strands curled up at the end. He had a beautiful set of candy pink lips that Holland wanted to taste with her own, and gorgeous jade eyes that were almost translucent. She spent most of her nightmare staring into them, trying to see into his soul as if it would help her find him.

But it didn’t work.

He was still just a stranger to her.

A stranger named Harry.

As she approached her father’s office, she felt her palms become slicker than they were before as her heart pounded faster and faster in her chest. She reached down for the doorknob, turning it before she pushed the heavy wooden door open. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed the three, ominous figures standing off to the side of her father’s desk. The vibe that they gave off sent shivers down her spine as the little hairs on her arm stuck up to warn her of danger.

“Come in.” Her father ushered her in, and Holland’s feet followed the command without hesitation. “Holland, I would like for you to meet the Council of Elders.”

“Hello.” Holland offered them a small wave, her body shrinking nervously as they glared back at her.

Their dark robes were just as creepy as the large, wooden walking sticks they carried.

“Young child.” One of the men spoke up, holding his hand out to her. “Give me your hand.”

Holland looked towards her father, afraid to take a stranger’s hand.

“Go on, Holland.” Her father said. “Do as they ask, my dear. I promise that they won’t hurt you.”

Holland moved closer to the man with jet black hair, sliding her fingers into his palm.

A shock greeted her senses, causing her to gasp and jump.

“It’s alright.” The man whispered. “Close your eyes, show me what you see.”

When Holland obeyed his order, Holland thought of the lake.

Her entire dream played out in her head, almost as if it were on a television screen instead of in her mind. The closer they got towards the end, the harder Holland gripped the man’s hand in her own. The end was the part that she hated the most, the part that tore her apart.

“Holland, baby, please breathe for me.” Harry’s palms brushed over her cheeks, tears streaming down his own as he tried to bring her back to life. “I need you to wake up, Holland! I need you.”

The dream finished with Holland on the ice, Harry sobbing into her neck.

He did know her name.

“My, my, my.” The man spoke, tutting his tongue. “It seems that I was right after all.”

“Right about what?” Holland whispered, blinking her eyes rapidly in attempts to clear the tears from her vision. “How did you know about my nightmares?”

“Because I rule them, my dear.” The man spoke. “I’m Morpheus, the god of dreams.”

“Oh.” She whispered, still in shock. “You make those happen?”’

“Most dreams are of my creation, but not yours.” He said. “Your nightmare is crafted at the hand of someone else, a master manipulator that has conned his way into using someone else’s magic.”

“Morpheus, I would like to know what in the sleigh bells is going on with my daughter-”

“Kristopher, this is not your place.” The shortest of the three men hissed, his chubby cheeks turning red.

“Now, now…” The only woman spoke up, a sly smirk on her black painted lips. “Erotes, Kristopher is merely concerned for his offspring.”

“If he was concerned about her well being, Ma’at, he would not have split her from the boy-”

“Erotes.” Morpheus drawled out. “He could not have known about the boy.

“He should have known.” Erotes turned back to Holland, offering her a soft smile. “To be parted from the other half of one’s soul is a pain I would not wish on my worst enemies. I sincerely apologize on behalf of myself for letting you be away from him for so long.”

“I don’t understand.” Holland looked from Erotes to Morpheus, her brow furrowed. “What does-”

“Things have changed, haven’t they?” The man hummed out as if Holland were a specimen that he was examining in a lab instead of a girl.

“He knows my name.” She whispered. “And I know his name.”

“And you didn’t know it before.” The man narrowed his dark eyes, staring at her with a curious grin. “How is that, little elf?”

“I don’t know.” She tried to pull her hand back, but the man kept her fingers in a tight hold. “I just...I had the first dream when I was five, and it’s always been the same up until last week. It was all the same until suddenly I saw his face, clearer than it’s ever been before. I said his name like I’d known it all along and then….when I was drowning I saw him for the first time.”

Holland cleared her throat as it started to tighten, trying to regain her voice.

“You saw who did it.” The man spoke. “You know who it is that is trying to kill you both?”

“I do.” She nodded, licking over her lips nervously. “It’s Jack Frost.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Kris spoke up from his desk, his chair scraping across the wooden floor as he stood up. “What does Frost have to do with this?”

“The boy that you exposed yourself to as Santa sixteen years ago on Christmas night is your daughter’s other half.” Erotes said. “They are two souls created from the same star, the brightest star, and their love for each other has been tainted by your ignorance. The moment you laid eyes on the boy, you should have contacted me.”

“He reminded me of Holland, but I didn’t...” Kris said. “He had that same glow that she has in her eyes, I remember that much about him.”

“Their souls were forged from the ash of the Christmas star.” Morpheus said. “Other than you and your son, these two are the last people on earth with true Christmas spirit and it is their job as children of the Christmas star to instill that spirit into the souls of everyone they meet.”

“Jack Frost wishes to kill them both to absorb that power for a different use, of course.” Ma’at spoke up, drawing Holland’s eyes from Morpheus. “In the wrong hands, their power can be used for evil things.”

“When Frost kills them both, he will kill Christmas.” Erotes tutted. “We wouldn’t want that to happen, Kringle. The humans wouldn’t know what to do without Christmas, it would be horrible.”

“So what do we do?” Holland looked at Morpheus, swallowing around the lump in her throat as he looked down at her.

“We must keep an eye on Jack Frost.” Morpheus spoke. “And you must find your soulmate. He has suffered great tragedy, and his Christmas spirit is nearly gone. You must save him, and restore his power if you wish to properly fight for your lives.”

“Both souls must be pure in order for you to fight Jack Frost and his twisted magic.” Ma’at said.

“You must go to him, Holland.” Erotes said. “You must be by your beloved.”

“I don’t have any clue how to survive in the real world.” She shook her head. “And I don’t know where to find him, or how I would even begin to restore his Christmas spirit. I’ve never been trained on that kind of thing.”

“Look at me, Holland.” Morpheus snapped. “I have faith in your ability to do this without failing, but my faith in you is nothing if you don’t believe in yourself. Let that be the lesson you learn during this mission of yours.”

“Without Christmas, the rest of us will cease to exist.” Ma’at said. “The entire world of magic relies on you.”

“I will take you to him in six days time.” Erotes said. “He is in London.”

She swallowed, clenching her fingers into fists at her side.

“Alright.” She said softly. “What do I need to do to prepare myself?”

“There is a book you must read.” Morpheus said. “I will send it to you as soon as I return to my own realm. You need to practice your Christmas magic, little elf.”

When Holland blinked, the council of elders was gone without a trace.

She turned around to her Father with wide eyes, her mouth open in shock.

“What in the sugar plum just happened?”

November 7 Harry’s POV

Harry felt like he was one gust of winter wind away from falling over.

The lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him as the days grew shorter and the nights colder.

Fighting off sleep to avoid the violent dreams that plagued his mind at night wasn’t helping, because no matter how hard he tried to fight it off with caffeine, or cold showers, he ended up falling into the ominous forest in his mind where he would inevitably watch the girl die the same way that she always did. But the blue haired man was getting bolder, taunting Harry with icy smirks and snide remarks. Harry could never retaliate with his feet frozen solid to the forest ground however. His eyes were always glued to the girl with snow white hair as she cried his name out, his heart breaking in his chest as he accepted the cruel fate bestowed upon them.

She was fighting so hard to stay alive, and it killed Harry knowing that it was never enough. He spent a lot of time trying to convince himself that it was just a nightmare, something that the darkest parts of his brain conjured up to punish him. But with each passing night that he stared into the girls eyes, he started to think that he was wrong about that. His brain didn’t conjure this dream up at all, it was real. It made him feel insane, of course, thinking that some recurring dream with two strangers in it wasn’t a dream at all, but a reality. But he couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was a premonition, not a figment of his imagination.

That girl was real, and Harry cared for her.

They weren’t just friends in the nightmares, they were lovers.

At this point, he was considering committing himself to an insane asylum so that he didn’t end up accidentally telling someone about these dreams. If he told anyone, they would surely look at him like he was loony, and he couldn’t really blame them. It was a weird situation, and he didn’t have anyone he could confide in.

“Why do you look like you’re in pain?” Niall nudged Harry’s foot with his own, lifting his pint up to his lips as Harry snapped out of his thoughts. “You’ve been staring at the table for like, five solid minutes. Do you have heartburn or something?”

“I don’t have heartburn, you prick.” Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing his own pint from the table before he tipped it back. “I’m still upset with you for sleeping with my sister.”

“Here it goes.” Mitch inhaled, trying not to laugh as he reached for his whiskey. “Styles, I don’t think talking about your sister’s sex life with your best mate, while your drunk, is a good idea.”

“Yeah, what Mitch said.” Niall shifted uncomfortable as Harry slapped on a fake scowl, sending it towards the blonde boy. “You’ve already threatened to punch me-”

“I’m still going to.” Harry said plainly. “Of all the women in the world, you had to pick my sister.”

“Mitchell, help me.” Niall whined, glancing over at the brunette with desperate eyes. “I don’t want to die tonight.”

“I don’t think that I can help you.” Mitch shrugged his shoulders, catching the wink Harry sent his way. “He might actually kill you.”

“I might.” Harry shrugged, sipping at his beer. “I might save it for a rainy day, who knows?”

“Jesus.” Niall scoffed, shaking his head. “I better call my Ma and tell her I love her then.”

“Niall, I’m kidding.” Harry laughed, shaking his head. “I’m happy for you both. I think you’re good for her, even if I hate to admit it.”

“Really?” Niall let out a sigh. “Because I really like her.”

“I know that you do.” Harry nodded, sitting his pint glass on the table. “And I know that you love Noah just as much as you love her.”

“I really do.” Niall’s lips curved up in a secret smile. “They make me happy.”

“And the end of the day, that’s all we can really ask for.” Harry shrugged his shoulders. "But I don't want to hear anymore about how you bruise like a peach or what you get up to in your spare time.”

“That’s fair enough.” Niall nodded.

Harry lifted his pint glass, downing what was left before he stood up.

“Where are you going?” Niall’s brows furrowed. “It’s still early!”

“I’ve got to open the shop tomorrow.” Harry reached for his jacket, sliding his arms in. “I don’t want to be late….or hungover.”

“I think you’ll already be hungover.” Mitch laughed. “I can open if you’d like me to, I don’t have any plans tomorrow.”

“Nah, you spend time working on those guitar skills, shredder.” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets as he looked at Niall. “And you, treat my sister to breakfast or something you lowlife.”

“Will do.” Niall laughed, his cheeks turning pink. “We’ll drop something off for you with Noah?”

“I’d like that.” Harry mumbled, offering Niall a tight lipped smile. “Alright lads, you be good.”

“Same to you.”

Harry waved at his friends before he made his way out of the pub.

He walked towards the end of the street, looking both ways before he ran across.

His building wasn’t far from the pub, but the wind whipping around made it feel like a twenty mile trek in the tundra. Harry was shivering by the time he made it into his building, his feet carrying him slowly through the lobby and towards the lift. He stepped in, using his elbow to press the button to his floor as his teeth started to chatter. The landlord was going to get an earful about the temperature inside the building tomorrow, Harry would make sure of it.

He stepped off of the lift, fumbling his fingers around in his pocket until he made contact with his keys. He pulled them out, glancing down until he found the one that opened his flat. As he walked down the hall, his mind went back to the girl. He could almost smell her familiar scent in the air, berries and clove filling his senses with every step he took. He was sure one of the ladies that lived down his hall was burning a winter candle with the same scent.

It was the only explanation.

When he made it towards his door, he heard a soft gasp.

He lifted his head up, his eyes growing wide as he saw the girl from his dreams standing right across the hall from his flat. She was staring at him, her pine colored eyes wide with disbelief and her berry red lips parted with shock. Her hair wasn’t as white as he remembered, more honey colored tones tied into the strands to compliment her skin. Harry stopped in his tracks, his heart slamming against his rib cage as she blinked rapidly, shaking her head as if she were trying to bring herself back into reality.

Harry swallowed around the nerves in his throat as he took one step forward.

Just as his foot landed on the ground, she fell to the floor.

Harry felt like he lost all of the air in his lungs, vivid visions of her body falling through the ice playing through his mind. But this time, he could do something about it. He rushed forward, grabbing her arms with his palms to lift her up as her head lolled back. She was limp, her body heavy and warm in his hands. He was shocked by just how warm she was, her skin was usually ice cold by the time that he got to her. He felt the tears blurring his eyes as she lay there.

“No, no.” He shook his head. “Get up!”

Her eyes snapped open at that, the dark shade of green greeting Harry like a breath of fresh air.

He was stone cold sober when he yanked her against his chest, holding her tight in his arms.

“I can’t breathe.” She gasped out, her hands tapping his shoulders. “Harry?”

He pulled back, staring back into her eyes with pink cheeks.

“How are you here?” He asked her, licking over his lips.

“Um, I don’t really have an answer for any of it.” She cleared her throat, glancing away from his gaze with shy eyes. “I just kind of...ended up here?”

“Did you take a taxi or something?” He asked, confused when she laughed. “Do you live in London? Have you always lived in London?”

“To be honest with you, I think that I teleported here.” She said slowly, like she was unsure of the response he might have. “That might sound insane to you. I know you only ever see stuff like that in Dr. Who, but um, it’s kind of real?”

“You sound like a mad woman.” He whispered, his eyes flitting over the features of her face, taking it all in. “But for some reason, I believe you.”

“If you think that was mad, wait until we dive into the fun stuff.” She said softly, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t really know what I’m doing here, if I’m being honest with you.”

Harry nodded, loosening his grip on her arms.

“Do you have some place to stay?” He asked her. “Or do you plan on teleporting back to wherever you came from?”

“Um, that’s my flat.” She pointed to the door just next to them. “I’m staying there until...well, until I can go home.”

Harry suddenly felt drunk again, his mind swirling with information as he let go of her.

She sat up on her own, clearing her throat as she brushed her palms over her thighs.

“I’m gonna get off of the floor now.” She said softly. “Is that okay?”

“Just promise me that you won’t faint again.” He felt his brows pull together in concern, panic flashing into his heart. “Please?”

“I will try not to.” Her laughter still sounded like bells. “Um, so, I know your name-”

“But I’ve never learned yours.” He finished for her, standing up before he offered his hands out to her. He pulled her up, pressing his hand against her hip when she stumbled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” She offered him a smile, one that genuinely comforted him. “I’m Holland.”

Holland.

“Holland, baby, please breathe.”

“I did know that.” He cleared his throat, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck as his cheeks grew warm. “I guess….I guess I forgot about that part of my dream.”

“Our dream.” She pressed her lips together, fighting off a smile. “I have the same one.”

“How do you know both of our dreams are the same?” He asked, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “Maybe mine is different from yours.”

“I think I die in each version of the dream, Harry.” She said softly, trying not to laugh when his face paled. “But, I’m here now, in the flesh!”

“But you’re going to die.” He said slowly, anger rising in his chest. “That’s not funny.”

“No, I’m not going to die.” She was firm with her response, holding her chin up proudly as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I refuse to die like that, it just won’t do.”

“I don’t think you can control it.” Harry said, his voice bleeding with frustration and disbelief. “You are a mad woman.”

“I’m not.” Her berry lips pushed out into a pout, and Harry nearly dropped to his knees. “I’m very smart, and extremely sane, Harry. I just….I happen to know things that you don’t!”

“Things like teleportation?” He asked, his brows lifting towards his hairline. “You look different, did you know that?”

“No.” She said. “Why do I look different?”

“Your hair is normally white.” He lifted his hand, grabbing a few strands gently. “And your skin is normally like the snow.”

“I suppose it would be weird if I walked around London looking like that, eh?” She asked. “I can’t exactly be myself in this world.”

Harry knew what that was like.

“I think you’ll be just fine.” He whispered. “You’re still beautiful.”

“Well, I should probably go inside.” Holland said softly. “I’m quite knackered from all of that teleporting and stuff.”

Harry felt panic start to rise in his chest again.

She was leaving him.

What if something happened to her while he was just across the hall?

He would never forgive himself.

“You’re…” He felt his palms get sweaty. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”

“I’m sure.” She nodded. “I’ve done a lot of research on this place, so I think I’ve got the hang of everything.”

“This place, as in the complex or this place, as in earth?”

“This place as in London.” She snorted. “I’m from Earth, gumdrop. I just come from a very small, remote island near the arctic.”

“Are you really from earth?” He let out a breathy chuckle. “Because I could have sworn you fell from heaven.”

Harry watched her cheeks glow like they did in the beginning of his dream.

“You’re cheeky.” She said softly. “I learned what that means by watching Skins. By the way, those children should all be on the naughty list, they’re horrid.”

Harry froze, watching Holland as she shook her head.

“You still believe in Santa?” He asked her softly, as if he were afraid he would startle her.

“Oh, yeah.” Her eyes grew wide, but she was quick to look away. “Who doesn’t?”

“Most of the world.” He cleared his throat. “Most of us don’t even like Christmas.”

“Gumdrop, by the time I’m through with you, I’ll have you singing Christmas Carols with Santa himself.”

“If there’s one thing you should know about me, Holland-” His voice was low as he spoke, frustration bubbling in his chest.. “It’s that I will never love Christmas or anything that has to do with that bloody holiday.”

He pulled his hand back, turning on his heel before he slipped his key into the lock.

He could feel Holland’s eyes on his back, but after the comment he made, he needed a little time to cool down. Sure, Holland was someone that he had dreamed of meeting for most of his life, but he didn’t really know her as a person. He drew the line at Christmas with anyone, and she was no exception to his strict rule. He pushed into his flat, shutting the door behind him with his foot. Seconds later, he dropped his head against the door with a heavy sigh.

“Maybe this is another dream.” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Wake up, Harry.”

But when he opened his eyes, he was still standing in his apartment, and he could still smell the sweet scent of berry and clove.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles x ofc #harry styles original fic #harry styles x original female character #harry fic #harry au #harry writing #my writing #harry fanfiction #harry fluff #harry x ofc #harry styles holiday fic #harry styles christmas fic #harry styles christmas

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loki-hargreeves · 4 years

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Loki’s 12 Days of X-Mas - Snow

Author’s Note: This is the 1st fic of my ‘Loki’s 12 Days of Christmas’, which is a written advent calendar with Christmas/winter themed Loki x Reader fics. Summary: It’s snowing! You show Loki just how much fun a little snow can be, although it can get cold outside. Word Count: 2,1K Warnings: This is pure fluff for once, enjoy! :)

Third POV

Perhaps living on Midgard wasn't all that bad. After all, Loki had met Y/N and against all doubts, he had fallen for that mortal woman. They got along very well despite their differences. Eventually, Loki had moved in with her, further away from the densely populated metal jungle. It was just them in a warm house in New Asgard. The nearest neighbour was a few streets away. When their duties called, it was still easy to get to places on time.

It was perfect.

One morning, just as many others, Loki had woken up before Y/N. He looked out the window and saw snow - loads of it. For him, it just meant there was shovelling to do. Loki didn’t think much about it as he went to prepare breakfast. It was a habit Y/N helped him develop and Loki had quickly learned that he felt better when he ate in the mornings.

As he waited for the coffee to brew, Loki realized it was cold inside. It didn’t bother him at all, but he knew Y/N would feel it. So, Loki decided to light up the fireplace. He lit the dry wood with his magic and watched as the flames grew. It didn’t take long until the heat radiated on his skin and spread throughout the house.

“Loki?” A sleepy voice caught his attention. Never in a million years had he dared believe someone’s voice would make him that happy.

He stood up and saw Y/N by the door frame. Her face was still covered in sleepiness and she was wearing one of Loki’s green robes. In his eyes, she was adorable - even with her messy hair. “Good morning,” he smiled and then rid his hands of ash by wiping them on his pants. He’d wash them anyway, so it didn’t matter.

She shuffled closer to him and hugged the god she had fallen in love with. Loki realized she was cold because she was shivering, so he closed his arms around her. “Did you notice it was snowing?” Y/n muttered. She was still tired, which breakfast could probably change.

“I wondered how long it would take. In the 11th century, Midgard was covered in snow by now,” Loki reminisced on the days he visited Viking Norway. The snow seemed to come later and later these days.

“Watch your mouth, Loki. Winter can last long up here. Besides, a little snow is nice, isn’t it? We could build a snowman,” Y/N suggested something happily, almost jokingly.

A snowman?

“What are you talking about?” Loki wondered as they parted from the hug. The coffee was ready and absentmindedly the two of them walked over to the counter to grab their morning cups.

“A snowman, Loki. We just roll snow together and form a person,” Y/N explained. She had gotten used to this. They grew up on different realms, of course, there were things they didn’t know about.

The Trickster god took a sip of his coffee and let her words sink in. Why did mortals do that? He had no idea, but if it made Y/N happy, he’d be willing to try it out.

A couple hours later, breakfast had been eaten and the house was finally warm. Y/N had showered and made herself ready for the day. Loki had changed into his warmer Asgardian attire, which still made him look presentable as a Prince, but they also suited the wintery world around them. So far, he hadn’t heard from Thor nor Brunnhilde, so he assumed he had a day off from royal duties. Not that New Asgard had many duties anyway. Life was calmer these days.

“Are you ready?” Y/N walked into the small library they had in their home. Loki had been reading a book by the other fireplace they had. Their house was much smaller than a castle, but it was large enough for a prince and his lover.

He finished reading the sentence he was on before taking his eyes off the pages. “As ready as I’ve ever been.”

They got dressed in their coats and boots and other accessories that kept them warm. Loki was a frost giant, he didn’t really need all those clothes, but Y/N had gotten them for him, and he didn’t want to upset her by not wearing them. It would just seem ungrateful. Besides, he found them cute, which he wouldn’t admit right away. They were from her and he treasured that.

The couple walked outside, stepping into the soft, fresh snow. It sunk beneath their shoes and made that swoosh sound Y/N liked. The sun was trying hard to shine through the icy clouds, giving just enough daylight to make the white ice powder appear glittery. Their garden was large. All their plants were now covered in snow and even their gate was hardly visible now. Trees – mostly pine trees -surrounded their haven so no one could see in and no one could see out.

“Okay, I’ll show you what a traditional snowman looks like,” Y/N said as she grabbed her phone. She had to take off her mittens to do so and it didn’t take long until her hands were cold. Loki looked at her phone screen and saw a pile of snow, which looked like someone put three snowballs on top of each other and decorated it with vegetables and clothes.

“That’s...special,” Loki tried to comment on it without being rude. Mortals had some strange traditions.

Y/N put her phone away and hurried to slip her hands back into the warmth her mittens gave her. “I know it’s a bit odd, but it’s fun! Trust me. It’ll look nice in front of the house,” Y/N explained excitedly.

As Loki stood there and saw the pure joy on her face, he knew he couldn’t say no to that. Although it was silly, he wanted to make her happy. “Let’s start then, shall we?”

Y/N almost squealed in delight, but she managed to keep it to herself. Just like that, she began to demonstrate an old tradition. “So, you begin with a small snowball,” Y/N grabbed fresh snow and rolled it into a ball in her hands. Loki took her instructions very seriously. Poor thing, he didn’t know it was a careless activity, mostly for children. Y/N thought he was adorable. It was her little secret that it was a children’s activity. “Once it’s big enough, you just start rolling it around the ground until it’s big enough. How about I make the bottom part and you make the middle part? We can make the head together,” Y/N suggested so innocently and then got down on her knees on the ground.

“Sounds good,” Loki gave her a sweet smile and got to work. He was tempted to use his magic, but it didn’t look like Y/N needed anything else but her hands. So Loki got down on the cold ground, feeling a little bit frivolous, but in a good way. He was happy to do something with Y/N that didn’t require any serious measures.

After a few minutes, Loki looked behind his shoulders. Y/N was nowhere to be seen but he saw where she had gone by following her trail on the snow. She had rolled her part to the side of the house. Eventually, she yelled out his name. “Loki! Can you please help me?”

Was she alright? Loki was worried and quick to get up and see what was going on. Y/N stood by her big snow pile with a grin on her face. Before Loki realized what was going on, she threw a small snowball at him that hit his chest. Loki looked down at his chest that had snow on it now. “What are you doing, my petal?” A mischievous smile spread on his face when he saw her run away with laughter. Someone was happy about the snow...

Y/N hid behind a bush that was covered in snow. “You’ve never been in a snowball fight?” She wondered.

Of course, Loki had been in a snowball fight. All sorts of fighting games had been popular on Asgard when he was a child. But she didn’t have to know. As Loki bent down to grab snow, he spoke “I can’t reckon, darling. Care to explain?” He smirked. He had formed a loose snowball in his hand and he just had to wait and aim.

Y/N popped her head and torso away from the safety of the bush. “Oh, you see-“that’s all she could say before Loki threw a snowball back at her. He remembered to be gentle with her. The ball hit her shoulder and she let out a surprised scream, followed by laughter. “Loki!”

“Two can play this game, love,” Loki teased her and decided to be a bit of an ass, just for a moment. He used his magic to pick up snow and he formed several snowballs that now levitated in the air.

Once she saw that her eyes widened in surprise, but Loki saw that her smile never faded. She tried to run away, but Loki was merciless. Besides, it was hard to run when her feet sunk into the snow with each step. Loki let her try for a while, but they both knew he caught her. “I must’ve realized there was something different about me as a child when I beat everyone in this game.” Loki thought out loud as he began to throw them at her – still taking into consideration that she was a mortal and he had superhuman strength.

A few of them hit her back with a gentle thud, which she reacted to with more of her sweet laughter, it was like music to his ears. “L-Loki! This is unfair!” She giggled as a few more snowballs hit her. She tried to bend down and grab snow, but that’s when she stumbled. Thankfully, the soft snow caught her so no damage was done.

“Are you alright?” Loki wondered and let go of his magic, making the snow fall back on the ground. He hurried by her side. She was stuck in the snow by her bottom and honestly, it was kind of amusing.

“Apart from freezing my ass off, I’m good, Loki,” Y/N answered him happily. “You won this time! Next time I’ll be prepared.”

He offered his hands to her which she grabbed. “I can’t wait for that, love,” Loki admitted as he pulled her up from the snow. Despite being defeated, Y/N wasn’t bummed at all. She wrapped her arms around Loki’s neck and pulled him into a loving kiss. He responded to it happily, smooching her back gently which offered her warmth in the middle of the snowstorm they were in.

As they parted, Y/N walked back to her snowman bottom. “How about we finish building this snowman and then make I’ll make hot chocolate? It’s cold out here!”

Loki liked that idea very much.

Loki had never built a snowman before. He didn’t know how big it was supposed to be, so it surprised him when Y/N tapped on his shoulder with a big smile on her face. “What?” He wondered and looked at his snowman part that easily reached Loki’s waist.

“That’s huge, but in fact, that’s good. I’ve always wanted a giant snowman,” Y/N admitted to him. “Perhaps this is the bottom part then, okay? My part should be a good middle.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” Loki chirped. He was happy she didn’t judge him for not knowing any better like many others would do. She adapted to their differences and never judged him. He knew it was one reason why he could be so comfortable around her.

It didn’t take long until they retreated inside. There was now a large snowman in their front garden, welcoming anyone who would visit them. Loki had used his magic to sculpt a snow hat to the snowman since they didn’t own a hat large enough for it. In Y/N’s eyes, it was perfect. Even with its large branch arms and tiny carrot nose.

Now they could simply cuddle under the soft blankets Y/N had gotten. With hot chocolate in their hands, they quickly found warmth. It didn’t mean they wanted to let go. There was something magical about cuddling by the fire with hot chocolate on the side. As Y/N rested her head on Loki’s chest, she found herself falling asleep. Loki didn’t mind it at all. As she slept on him, he could read his book and every once in a while, look at her peaceful face. He was so lucky to have her.

Author’s Note: I cannot believe I wrote this much fluff. It’s so out of my element, but I hope you liked it! :) It’s good to write about happy!Loki.

#Loki #Loki's 12 days of christmas #Loki fluff #Loki x Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki x You #Loki imagine #Loki fanfiction #TOm Hiddleston Loki #Marvel fanfiction

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

A Sight To See

Katara takes care of a sick and grumpy Azula.

Katara can’t help it, she has to chuckle. Azula looks absolutely ridiculous; her nose and cheeks are red. Her eyes are sleepy. She sniffles constantly and the floor around her is a mess of tissues. She looks up sadly, almost pathetically. But she knows that if she laughs too much that the princess will get all cranky again. She’d rather have Azula staring up at her with that kicked polar-bear puppy look than glaring lightning at her.

“Here, take this.” Katara drapes the heaviest blanket that she can find over Azula’s shoulders.

Azula clutches the blanket tightly to her small frame. “Next time we’re celebrating the winter festival in the Fire Nation.”

“There is no winter in the Fire Nation!”

“Yes. Exactly.” Azula mutters. “None of this cold white stuff either.”

“You mean the snow?”

“I know what it’s called.” She huffs.

“If we were in the Fire Nation we would be able to see the lights.” Katara points out. “I thought that you said you liked them.”

“It is hard to enjoy the display like this.” She motions to her overall disheveled self. “I can’t breath out of my nose.”

Katara suppresses another laugh. “I suppose that that’s true.”

The firebender gives a few coughs.

“Is this the first time that you’ve ever caught a cold?”

Azula nods. She gathers her blankets, stands up, and moves to the window.

“You want to go out and see them again, don’t you?”

Azula nods again. “I’m already sick, I might as well.”

Katara thinks for a moment and, with a sigh, replies, “alright I guess we can go out for a little bit since you’re too sick to go to the actual festival.”

“It was probably a stupid festival anyways. Peasant stuff.” She folds her arms over her chest.

Katara offers her a gentle pat on the back, “whatever makes you feel better.” She readjusts her blankets for her before wandering off to find their coats.

Azula, feeling no less grumpy, finds herself a spot by the window, trying to get a look at the sky lights from the warmth of the home. She can see the faintly glowing edge of them, a soft blue that reminds her of her fire. She sniffs again and looks around for her box of tissues. Finding it empty she sniffs again. And again.

Finally she can take no more and wanders by Katara, “I am out of tissues.”

“Alright, I’ll get you some more, follow me.”

She pads alongside Katara until the girl offers her a new box of tissues. The princess makes her way back to the room she’d started in before blowing her nose. She frowns to herself. Gross. It is gross. Being sick is undoubtedly disgusting and she hates it. She longs for a bath. A real bath. The kind that she can only receive in the palace’s hot springs.

“Here, put this on.”

Azula stares at the parka before reluctantly putting it on.Once it is well and zipped, she stands there awkwardly. The sheer amount of layers she wears beneath the parka restricts her arm movements. She may be comfortably warm but the bulk of the layers gives her a slightly awkward gait.

This time Katara laughs openly. “Alright, maybe we can take off a few layers.”

She unzips Azula’s parka once more and pulls the topmost layer over her head. The princess does little to help herself, opting to pout in a silent protest of whatever wintery hell she is in. Once Katara is satisfied with her girlfriend’s current count of layers, she tugs the parka back on and pulls out a pair of mittens.

“I like gloves more.”

“They aren’t as warm.”

“And…”

“And, yesterday you almost got frostbite.” After having successfully forcing Azula’s hands into the mittens she gives them an affectionate squeeze. “There, I think that you’re all set.”

“I look ridiculous.” Azula grumbles.

“Yeah, you do look pretty silly.” Katara grins and pecks her on one of her rosy cheeks. “Lets go look at the lights.”

The snow crunches beneath their feet as they kick it up. Despite the strife that the frigid weather is causing her, Azula finds it to be simply stunning. She has never seen anything like it in the Fire Nation. She can look at craggy cliffsides and magma formations--beautiful in their own respect--but she couldn’t view icicles there. They glisten like quartz, each one unique. They create a sharp and dangerous trim on the houses and boats and pretty much any structure that they could find. Everything sparkled and shimmered in the moon light.

It is the sky though, that has Azula transfixed.

Katara’s arm links around hers. She feels the waterbender shift her weight onto her, her head rubbing up against Azula’s neck. The firebender’s eyes don’t leave the lights. They billow like glowing curtains in a breeze. They burst and flare like fire. Like spectral tongues licking at the sky. She is completely mesmerized, so much so that she barely registers the cold. Distantly, she acknowledges that, that is probably how she’d gotten sick in the first place.

When she finally looks down, she catches Katara staring at her.

“Why aren’t you looking at the lights? They’re so beautiful.”

“I found something more beautiful to look at.” She cups her hand over Azula’s cheek.

Azula quirks a brow. “Yeah, if you think sniffling and puffy eyes are attractive.”

“Speaking of...I think that it’s time to get back inside.”

Azula turns back to the lights, “a few more minutes?”

“Alright.” Katara sighs. “But only if you let me keep you warm.”

“Go ahead.”

Katara wraps her arms around her the princess and peers at the lights for herself. She allows five or so minutes to pass before leading Azula back to the house. Not that her eyes actually leave the sky until they are back inside. She wraps the princess back into her blankets. “Would you mind getting a fire going?”

Azula scoots closer to the fireplace and lights the wood. It crackles blue for a moment before brightening into a brilliant orange.

“I’ll get some festival soup cooking. I’ve been dying to show you our traditional holiday soup!”

“Okay.”

“Goodness, you still look so grumpy.” Katara ruffles her hair.

“Stop that.”

Katara gives her another grin. “You’ll feel better soon. Most colds only last a few days and then you’ll feel like yourself again.” She takes Azula’s hands and kisses the firebender.

“You shouldn’t do that, you’re going to get sick too.”

“I’ll be fine. Just because you’re sick, doesn’t mean that you can get out of being loved.” She kisses Azula again. “Now, just relax and let me take care of you for once.”

Azula is quiet for a minute, she holds her hands out in front of her. “Alright, fine.”

#avatar #azula #katara #azutara #fanfiction #christmas

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afantasticbeastwriter · 5 years

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Amelia Pt. 2 || Newt Scamander x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst Word Count: 3,441 Prompt: “Maybe if you like can you write something where they come back to london and surprise newts family or something? And maybe some cute Dad!newt?” A/N: Thank you kind anon for this request! This is a sequel to Amelia, which I unfortunately cannot link here thanks to Tumblr being fussy, but can be found on my masterlist. Once again, I think I fell in love with this fic a bit. I really do hope you enjoy how it turned out. I put a lot into it xx Please let me know what you all think, and do not hesitate to give me some more requests! Enjoy!

The wind blew steadily in the port.

It was a signature cloudy London day, with near freezing temperatures and a biting chill. The papers warned of near-record temperatures for the wintery night ahead. Because of this, Newt Scamander had had to bundle himself a bit more than usual upon stepping outside. Where his traditional vest and trousers normally did the trick, he had to supplement a knitted sweater and his faded yellow and grey scarf for warmth. On any other day, he would have moved his plans to another day in order to better enjoy the warmth of a fire. This day, however, was not just any other day.

It was the day Newt waited for with bated breath for months and even years on end. You, the love of his life and mother of his child, were en route to bring yourself and your lovely daughter Amelia home. In preparation for your return, he thoroughly redid his flat. An entire room was conjured and decorated for Amelia, and his own was extended and given a much more roomy King-sized bed for good measure. Where his old kitchen held just enough room to cook for one, his new one easily could deliver meals for at least three. In addition to his home, he took precautions to make his creature habitat more secure. One no longer could enter it by simply walking in. An enchanted gate now sat at its entrance, held shut with a spell only he could counter. Of all these enchantments and conjurings, one thing though sat completely unprepared for your return: Newt. His hands shook.

Your return meant a lot for Newt. Not only would he get back the relationship he so craved with you, but he also would receive the chance to be a father to his daughter. He never believed he would get such a chance. Even just having you back would have been enough. Amelia was a cherry on top of that victory, and everything in him yearned to be a good father to her. He wanted to make up for lost time. He wanted to be the best father and boyfriend, as well as possible husband, that he could be. Giving you a proper welcome at the port was only the beginning of that.

As the boat’s platform stretched out onto British soil, his head swam. Your shiny black boots were the first to click against the wood bridge, and they did so commandingly, as if they knew you belonged there and nowhere else. Though the wind threatened to messy up your wavy locks, you met their attempts with a huff and a huddling into your scarf. Nothing was going to stand in your way of looking absolutely perfect for this reunion.

As you reached the end of the platform, you called behind yourself to Amelia. Being so young, she was much more apprehensive to leave the ship. Her eyes scanned you skeptically, and though Newt was too far away to hear her words clearly, he could tell she was protesting just why she must do so alone. Her fuzzy baby blue mittens folded into her matching coat as her face rested in a pout. Ever the spitfire, she was. With an eye roll that made Newt chuckle, you walked back and brought Amelia into your arms. The little girl still pouted as you took large, overly exaggerated steps down the platform in an attempt to make her smile. Only when you leaped onto British soil with a whooosh did she finally let one beautiful one slip.

My perfect little family, Newt thought.

As soon as you exited the bridge, you sat Amelia down. Newt caught himself tapping his foot as he watched her immediately tug at your coat to hurry, sharing her anticipation and excitement. He wanted to get going just as much as she did. He had spent seven years waiting, after all. It was about time.

The time to meet finally came after a brief run in with customs. Newt waited, slightly slouched with his case at his side, as you scanned the crowd. He was almost convinced the wide-eyed and energetic Amelia would be the one to find you when suddenly, you came to a halt.

It was as if time stopped.

Gorgeous {E/C} eyes stared back at Newt. They held all the light in his world and more within them, including the spark which existed back when he first met you. He remembered those eyes like one would fondly remember Christmas morning. He saw them fondly. Tenderly. Feeling himself straighten up, Newt began walking toward you. You began walking toward him. Footsteps grew into large strides until suddenly, all at once, you collided in a passionate embrace. Though he was not fond of hugs, Newt delightfully welcomed you into his arms and grasped you tight. It was almost if holding you any lesser would make you and the moment disappear. Your gentle sobs shook your smaller frame against his chest.

“Welcome home.”

His hushed tone could not disguise the emotion within. As he clutched your head to his chest, you found yourself laughing through sobs and shutting your eyes at the mere feeling it brought to you. Everything became more real when hearing him speak that way. A few months ago, you never believed Amelia would get to grow up with both her mother and father. Yet there you stood, cradled in her father’s arms, mere miles away from your new forever home and future. It was surreal. It felt surreal. All you could think to do was cry.

“I-I’ve missed you so much,” you struggled to say through tears. “Is this a dream?”

Shaking his head, Newt pressed a kiss to the top of your head delicately. If you squeezed your eyes shut any tighter, you may have thought it never to have happened at all. “It’s all real, my love.”

Newt released you from his arms. In doing so, he was reminded of the third member of their new family’s presence. She sat as quiet as a mouse behind you both, her mittens clutched around her tiny briefcase. Her eyes looked innocently up at the scene, not fully understanding but still appreciating the happiness on both of their faces. She was so well behaved. It astonished Newt to know he helped create such an angelic child.

Kneeling, he beckoned her to approach him. He sensed hesitation as she inched forward and remained reluctant to meet his gaze. She was so much like her father in that way. Energetic in her element, but shy when told to give affection or attention to that which she was not fully educated on. A true Scamander daughter. He offered a shy smile of his own to empathize with her. She accepted it by meeting him all the way.

“Hello, my darling.”

“Hi Papa,” she replied. Her small voice was like music to Newt’s ears.

“H-How are you? Was your trip well?”

“I’m good, but I’m tired of the boat. Are we going home now?”

Nodding, Newt took her case full of her items and replaced it with his hands. He gave them a squeeze, drawing a small smile to her lips. “Yes. All of us.”

Newt made sure to make good on that promise. It was the first one he ever made as a father that did not involve his creatures, after all. He was bound to fulfill it. Taking both her and your hand in his, he brought his new family out of the harbor and on their way home. A little more traveling later, and he found himself leading them right up to the steps of his flat.

“Are we ready to enter?”

Amelia looked to you before nodding wildly. You chuckled and brought her into your arms, giving her eskimo kisses. “Not sure she can contain her excitement much longer, Newt.”

“Good,” he smiled. Opening the door, he flicked on the light. He intended to bring in his new family and show them the house. He had conjured up a new room all for Amelia and redid his own for you, and he wanted nothing more than to surprise them with the hard work he accomplished. However, the surprise he did receive as he walked inside made his blood run cold.

“Welcome home!”

Champagne rested in their hands. Confetti fell like rain, disappearing before hitting the floor but easily getting into your and Amelia’s hair. Newt’s family stood, unannounced, in the middle of his living room like a slice from Newt’s nightmares. Newt loved his family. He really did. However, he was planning a gentle introduction. He was not planning this elaborate, in-your-face display, especially not from his parents. Theseus he could see, but not his parents. As Newt turned to apologize, little Amelia squealed and began to dance in the confetti.

“Pretty!”

“Theseus,” Newt sternly glared at his older brother, making his way over to Amelia to hold her from dancing, “what is going on?”

“Theseus told us you were bringing {Y/N} home today,” his father, Rodger, said in his oh-so-formal voice. The tone alone made Newt want to hide. He felt so “We wanted to make sure you were properly welcomed.”

“I supplied the confetti, of course,” Theseus chimed in. Newt opened his mouth to speak, only to be halted by seeing his mother Willow curiously watching Amelia. Amelia’s sparkling {E/C} eyes were still trained up at the confetti, and her smile shone unyielding. She was expressing the same wondrous gaze he held whenever he saw his creatures, and being Newt’s mother, she could spot such a resemblance without any trouble at all. She cocked her head to the side.

“Newt, is that…”

“Darling, why don’t you go check out your new room? We will join you soon.” Newt ushered her away and over to her room, opening the door for her. She looked rather against leaving the confetti, but her face absolutely lit up as soon as she saw her room and the beautiful parrot mural painted on the wall opposite her bed. Once he was satisfied she was safe and occupied, he shut the door behind himself and turned to face his family. You still stood by the doorway, choosing to keep quiet in this tense moment. It was for the best, Newt decided.

“I was going to tell you when they settled in.”

“You had a child out of wedlock?”

“Father, I-”

“How could you?”

“I did not know-”

“Wait, wait,” Theseus interjected, waving his arms and, finally, halting the confetti. He walked in between their father and Newt and held a hand up to both, keeping them apart. Looking to Newt, Theseus mirrored their mother’s confusion. “I didn’t know you had a child with her. Is that why you were so desperate to go to America? For her?”

“No,” Newt firmly confirmed, “no, I did not know. Not until I found her. She was a complete and total surprise, you must believe me.”

Theseus shook his head. “Merlin’s beard. And {Y/N}?”

“I thought I made a drunken mistake,” you mumbled. Rodger’s eyes widened.

“During prohibition?”

“I-”

“Do not yell at the mother of my child.”

Rodger staggered back hearing such forward, protective language. From Theseus he expected it, but Newt was his less commanding son. He rarely spoke up in disagreements. He often apologized if he did. This was unheard of.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” Newt promptly replied. He looked as if he was going to shake out of his boots or retreat fully into his coat, but his voice remained firm in opposition to his father. Rodger sat back, stunned. Stepping forward, Willow placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“Dear, what’s her name?”

Looking over to you, Newt cleared his throat. “Amelia.”

“Amelia Lucinda,” you added, quickly retreating back into yourself.

“Amelia Lucinda,” she repeated. A soft smile came to her lips. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. How did you think of that?”

You exchanged another look with Newt. As much as this sudden kindness from his mother confused you, you did not mind it. You craved it, actually. It settled far nicer in your stomach than Newt’s father’s chiding remarks.

“It’s the name of an ancestor of mine,” you told her. Willow grinned and beckoned you over. The way Newt looked at you with immense apprehension, you swore it was going to be a trap. But, as you approached her and found her bringing your hands into hers, something told you it was alright.

“While I’m not keen on knowing she was out of wedlock,” she said, “she is a gift nevertheless. I see no reason to be at each other’s throats about it.”

“Oh?” Newt’s father frowned, crossing his arms at his chest. Newt began chewing at his lip. “What happens if she grows up nonmagical? Then what? Newt could end up right back in Azkaban if she so much as hints to our existence to muggle schoolmates. We all could. She’s a liability.”

“She’s your granddaughter,” Willow fired back, her tongue sharp, “and her father is perfectly capable of teaching her to protect our world.”

“I am, too.” Stepping forward, you tried your best to connect with Rodger’s fiery gaze. If he were not so utterly overwhelmed, Newt would probably have found your courage rather attractive. Instead, he sat back worried and vaguely impressed. “I-I know I’m only a muggle, as you called it, but I kept his secret for a year. Knowing my daughter, I’m sure she can do the same. She’s quite intelligent for her age, you know. And she has all of your son’s best qualities, which I think makes her far from a liability. Take some time to get to know her, sir, and you might find she’s more capable than you think.”

The room fell silent. With a sharp nod, you moved past Rodger, Willow, and Newt and walked right into Amelia’s room. As the door shut swiftly behind you, Newt looked to his family. Rodger continued to sit stunned. Willow and Theseus looked a mixture of embarrassed, apologetic, and awed at your strength. Newt fidgeted with the inside of his coat, struggling with finding his words.

“A-All I ask for is kindness.” He briefly looked to his father. “We can discuss more serious matters in private…but now is not the time. If you would excuse me, I would much rather like to be getting to know my daughter, so.”

Trailing off, Newt turned the knob to Amelia’s room and entered in. He rather loved what he did with her room. Macaws scattered the walls, weaving between deep forest green vines and brush. The ceiling was dusted in a fluffy grey, enchanted to mimic the sky outside as time passed. Her bed, which she happily rested on as you brushed through her hair with your hand, consisted of zebra patterned sheets. It was any child’s dream room. For Amelia, it was exactly what she wanted. She perked up seeing Newt enter the room. You all but went ignored.

“Papa, I love my room.”

Despite the sour taste his previous conversation left in his mouth, something about Amelia’s optimistic nature made Newt smile. He moved to her bedside and knelt down.

“Wonderful,” he said softly. He reached to also run his hand through her hair, earning a giggle from Amelia. She loved the extra attention, and it showed. “Want to know something?”

“Yeah!”

“Sometimes, when you’re being a very good girl,” he warned, “the parrots come alive. Would you like to see that?”

It was hardly a question. Bolting up in bed, Amelia clapped her hands and beamed his way. “Show me! Show me!”

Newt smiled. Standing up, he whipped out his wand and gave it a quick flourish. Within moments, the parrots surrounding the room began to flap their wings and, one by one, fly off the wall. Amelia’s joyful squeals filled the room as she bounced up and down, watching the birds take flight around her.

You also watched them in awe. Seven years away from magic made you forget how beautiful it could be. No sight was more beautiful than your daughter experiencing it for the first time. Newt thought the same as he watched. It warmed his heart to know he helped to contribute to her happiness and wonder.

As the birds swirled around the room, he approached Amelia. Picking her up, he sat her on his hip.

“Watch this,” he spoke with a smirk.

He extended his arm outward and held it, being sure to hold still. It took a minute, but soon one of the Macaws took perch on him. Amelia opened her mouth to squeal, but Newt cautioned her to remain calm. She obediently relaxed, though her eyes never left the extraordinary bird.

“Do you want to pet him?”

Amelia nodded. “Yes, Papa.”

“Alright,” he said, voice hushed, “let’s do it then. Lightly brush your hand along its feathers on the back. Yes, that’s good, right there where its feathers attach. Good girl.”

He watched with pride as Amelia did just as instructed. Her touch was feather-light as she admired the Macaw. It leaned into the touch, squawking slightly, but she did not startle. She took its noises with confidence and respect for the rules. With a whole fleet of more dangerous and particular magical creatures waiting in his case and home, it pleased Newt to see her respectful behavior so early on. She really was his child.

“Well, isn’t that a sight.”

Slightly startled, Newt met Theseus’ gaze. He was leaning on the doorframe, somehow entering without him knowing or hearing. The beautiful Macaw ruffled its feathers at Newt’s tension, but to his and Theseus’ wonder, Amelia shushed it and was able to calm him back down. Over where you sat on the bed, you covered your mouth to stifle a gasp.

“Aren’t you just a regular-ol’ animal tamer?” Theseus asked Amelia, a bright smile on his face. He walked over to where Newt stood holding her and admired the bird she continued to pet. Curious, he asked her if he could have a try. Amelia politely gave him permission and showed him how to do it, exactly as her father instructed, even using his same cadence. Newt’s heart swelled with pride. Over on the bed, you brought your hand to your lips.

“Your papa, my brother, did something like this for me when I was younger,” he told her, transferring the Macaw from Newt’s arm to his, “only it was with dogs. Do you like dogs, dear?”

Amelia nodded. “Their fur is really soft.”

Both Theseus and Newt grinned. “Yes it is. He let me play with a bunch of fluffy dogs one year. I came home from work really sad, so he brought them out of a book I was reading. I got to spend the rest of the day playing with them. Isn’t that kind?”

“Very,” she replied. Turning to Newt, she wrapped her arms around him and snuggled into his chest, hugging him tight. Newt was caught a bit off guard by the sudden embrace, and he loathed the smirk he received from his brother who knew from experience how hard hugging was for him. However, Newt did his best to push past his discomfort and return the hug. As he did, she sighed into him, content.

“I love you, Papa.”

Within seconds, Newt felt himself tear up. His first I love you. He had been dreaming of hearing those words from her ever since he first realized she was his. They made everything – the fighting, the disappointment and judgement from his father, the potential danger of exposure she brought along with her – worth it. They made him truly feel like a father, and one capable of providing a good life to his daughter at your side, at that. They even made seeing his parents watching the scene from just outside the door less stressful. Looking to the little girl in his arms, Newt rubbed her back and decided to squeeze her tight.

“I love you too, Amelia. So much.”

Their future remained uncertain, but Newt was sure of one thing as he placed a kiss to her cheek. No matter what came their way or stood to say their bond was wrong, nothing would ever sever the love they now shared reunited. This family was for life, and he would do anything for it to survive and thrive.

For the first time in seven years, against all the odds, Newt felt truly, utterly happy.

And he had you and Amelia to thank for it.

#newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #fbawtft #newt x reader #fantastic beasts #newt #Newton Scamander #fantastic beasts imagine #fbawtft imagine #fbawtft fanfic #fantastic beasts fanfic #hp reader insert #hp fanfic #hp imagine

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queenslasharchive · 5 years

Text

Believe

A gift for @chaoskirin, never stop believing.

“I believe in Santa Claus

Like I believe in love

I believe in Santa Claus

And everything he does

There’s no question in my mind

That he does exist

Just like love I know he’s there

Waiting to be missed…”

A long long time ago, in the land of ice and snow, there was once an ivory-haired foundling left on the steps of a winsome little cottage in the center of an ever-wintery forest.

Why ever-wintery you may ask?

Well, it was a place where snowflakes never stopped falling, where rivers never broke apart into grue. A place where it could be Christmas Day all year round, everything imbued with a certain sort of magic.

That little cottage in the wood, made of strong sturdy arctic firs and draped with gossamer strings of icicles, the sort that almost looked like the trailing strings of fairy-lights and tinsel, to grace the pine boughs of a Christmas tree decades later… belonged to a family of tiny elves by the name of Kringle, toymakers by trade and a burgeoning family by choice.

They called their new baby boy, Nicholas.

The world would come to know him as Saint Nicholas, Santa Claus, and Kris Kringle.

But three wan boys with big dreams and empty pockets, would come to know him as John Richard Deacon, their Deaky.

-X-

Strangely enough THE Santa Claus, was rarely, if ever, at the North Pole (which on a map, was actually called Polaris).

He could usually be found fixing something in the apartment he shared with his bandmates, a wrench held between his teeth as he tinkered away. He had been building and inventing toys since he was in the cradle, so the process of creation was nothing new to him. Yet he would still be at a loss for words when Roger would trot over, as John was laying flat on his back, fixing their shitty fridge once again, and plopped down, straddling his stomach. (Which was not round and jiggly like a ‘bowl full of jelly’, thank you very much, modern culture. He was sort of chubby yeah, not gonna deny that. But dear lord, every caricature depicted him as some obese old man. It was almost enough to give him a body complex. Almost).

“Hey Deaky?”

Rog started with that annoyingly inquisitive tone of his and John merely grunted at the knee in his ribs.

“How did you learn to fix stuff like this?”

Because I was raised by toy-making Keebler elves in a magical winter-wonderland forest.

“Practice.”

Roger asked a lot of questions like that.

Most people liked to write him off as the dumb blonde of the band, (obviously there to do little more than pose and look pretty, while playing on his kit or laying on an album cover), but in practice, Rog was anything but.

“Hey Deaky?”

John hummed as Roger’s hand stilled from where it had been carving through his long pale ponytail, bushy as ever in the confines of it’s scrunchie.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why is your hair all white? Are you albino?” Ever the biology major.

Magic, Roger.

“I dunno, I was born with it.”

Which wasn’t to say that Brian and Freddie didn’t ask difficult questions as well, but they were rarer events. Most of his quirks he could easily explain away to them. Like Fred when he shoved eight cookies into his mouth at once. The impatient boy was just lucky they were still soft out of the oven, or he probably would’ve choked to death and they’d be out a lead singer for the band.

As it stood, Freddie flopped over the arm of their couch’s nasty love-seat, hands folded over his mouth, making several guttural sounds better suited to a porno than a reaction to baked goods.

“Good, huh? Or are those just the sounds of despair?”

Freddie made a noise that sounded a bit like how Cookie Monster must have in the throes of passion.

“Funny, the way you go on, I’d always thought you could fit more in your mouth.”

He caught a faceful of moist towelettes for his insolence, but it was so worth it.

“How in the world did you learn to cook ambrosia, darling?” Freddie asked, once he could finally breathe again. John shook his head and tucked in his chin to hide the smile.

“Tante taught me.” Tante Kringle, his elf mother.

Fred’s brow had crinkled and his lips pursed in confusion. “Tante?”

Deaky did the washing up with a smile on his face. “Yes, it means Aunt in German. She and my uncles raised me.” Brushing a stray clump of snowy hair out of his eyes, just because it was white didn’t mean he could see through it. Freddie came up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist, pressing his curved seashell ear onto John’s back to hear him breathe.

“What happened, Deaky?”

Fred sounded so sad, but John merely tossed his hair aside (Freddie insisted that it stay long for their glam look) and pressed a little kiss to the crown of their singer’s head.

“My parents abandoned me on their doorstep as a baby.”

“They did what?!” Freddie sounded so bloody broken up about it that John had no idea what to say. It wasn’t a big deal anymore. He was raised by the most unbelievably loving elf family. (Part of him wished that the boys could meet them, you know, without freaking out).

“It’s alright, Fred. I never knew them and my family loves me very much.”

Freddie pouted, arms wrapped around John’s tummy. “Still.”

****

Roger snorted as he watched one of the many TV movies leading up to Christmas, “Hey, did you lot know that Santa’s got a pilot license?”

Freddie had laughed into his cornflakes, sitting cross-legged on the living room rug in his underwear. Brian didn’t look up from his textbook, or the leaning Tower of Pisa he’d constructed out of notes from each of his dozen classes, frantically studying for his next final. John nodded, of course he knew, it was his license. Thank you, American Assistant Secretary of Commerce.

“So Bri…” Roger trilled, rolling over until his blonde head was all up in Brian’s face, covering his frantically written notes, in a way that reeked of suicide. The fire in Bri’s eyes could have deforested the Congo.

“Do you believe in Santa Claus?”

“No. He doesn’t exist, he’s a social construct. It’s impossible. No one can go deliver gifts around the world in one night or go down a flue over and over, especially not a man that size. Suffice to say, reindeers can’t fly and could never carry that many presents. Now kindly bugger off, so I can study.”

Thank you, Mr. Analytical.

…Whatever happened to magic?

Sometimes he really wanted to pull A Year Without A Santa Claus and see what went down without him.

But then he’d remember his family, waiting up in the snowy hilltops for him and just how hard they worked for the joy of children each holiday season and he could never pull shit like that. Not when they relied on him so much.

Tante would pull him into her lap as a little thing and smooth out his hair with her dainty glass hands.

“Our boy, our Kris, our little Saint Nicholas.”

-X-

“I believe in Santa Claus

But there was a time

I thought I had grown to old

For such a childish rhyme

He became a dream to me

‘Til one Christmas night

Someone stood beside my bed

With a beard of white…”

-X-

As usual, Christmas Eve came far too soon and he was frantically packing up in the dead of night to get the show on the road.

Making sure his boys were safely tucked into dream-land before creeping out into the living room, dressed in a pair of obnoxiously red flannel pajamas, snow boots and a white parka the same shade as his hair (the suit would be waiting for him in the sleigh, along with the toys and everything else sent along by his ever-vigilant family). His cheeks were round-peach rosy even in the cold and tugged on a pair of fleece mittens with a practiced hand. He was just walking around the couch to grab his discarded polka-dotted scarf, when his foot connected with something worryingly plush and startling human.

Roger groaned as he sat up like Frankenstein’s monster, holding his stomach where John had inadvertently kicked him. “Hey Deaky, what’s the big idea?!”

John was at a loss. “I just saw you… you were asleep in bed…” He waved his hands around as if that would remedy the problem.

Rog just rolled his eyes, “Nah, that’s Fern. The girl I brought home last night.”

“…and you’re not asleep with her?”

Roger cringed as though John had suggested he drop Freddie’s hairdryer in the bathtub, while he was in it. “Well, you know Johnny Boy, when a man loves a woman, or a man loves a man, or a woman loves a woman, (let’s be inclusive here)… sometimes if they’re too close together they…” Cue several vulgar hand gestures. “I wasn’t sure if you lot wanted to hear that.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t. But now I can see it. Thanks for that.”

Roger grinned like a greedy kid on Christmas morning.

“No problem, Deaks!” Then his eyes narrowed in on John’s outfit and the small clutch of luggage in his keeping. “Where are you going?’

The young bassist blanched. “Oh, you know.” A vague hand gesture. “My family needs me to rush home for… reasons.” I have to go fly around in a red suit handing out presents to children. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

He tried to grab everything he needed and make a beeline waddle for the door, but Roger was far too fast for him and basically galloped over, to wrap those skinny noodle arms tight around his waist, stopping him in his tracks. Fuck.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and asking him why he had to go, or if there was anything he could do to help, Roger screamed for Brian and Freddie at the top of his lungs. Yelling about how there was a Christmas emergency and John was trying to flee the country.

Thanks Rog, thanks a whole fucking lot.

Freddie hurled himself out of the bedroom, tinsel wrapped around his neck and candy-cane pasties on his nipples. It complimented the tight yellow star boxers down below that left nothing to the imagination, leftovers from their wild Christmas party the night before. “Wha’s going on? Deaky’s going on the lam? Who did we kill?”

John’s will to live.

“The last of my sanity.” Brian groaned, scrubbing a hand through his half-flattened curls. “What is going on?”

Roger instantly let go and pointed the finger at John, like they were still in primary school and he’d stolen Rog’s Hello Kitty eraser. “Deaky’s trying to run off and join the circus!”

“No, I’m not!” He was about to rip out chunks of his own hair though. “I just have to go home for a few days…” Nope, I’ve got to go be Santa.

Freddie was aghast. “But Deaky, you’ll miss Christmas! I thought we were going to celebrate together.” He looked so sad about it. Dramatic Queens, the lot of them.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. About to launch a long winded apology and partial explanation. Until he got distracted by Roger, who was running about and gathering up all his shit like some sort of small opinionated human tornado.

“Rog, what are you doing?”

“Packing!” The drummer squeaked, squishing himself between the love-seat and the pull-out couch to dig up his other sock. “We’re coming with you!”

Roggie, you can’t just…

The familiar symphony of hooves touching down on the roof, dislodging more than a fair bit of snow, sounded high above their heads and John contemplated using his wintery magic to knock the boys unconscious. Alas, Bri just crinkled his nose.

“What on earth was that?”

John grimaced. “My ride.”

-X-

When he got up to the roof, Donner was all up in his face with that wet nose of hers, the others not far behind her. His loyal reindeer queen. His fuzzy baby girls that he’d raised from the very moment that they’d tumbled out into his arms. They knew his scent, the funny choked-off laugh mimicked by all around the world, they loved him. (Yes, his sleigh ran on fierce girl power. Male reindeer didn’t have antlers this deep in the wintertime).

He trudged through the surprisingly thick snow to be able to reach out to all of them at once.

The boys were openly staring behind him. Keeping a wide berth, but ah hell, what did John have to lose? Might as well give regal disaster Freddie the time of his life. John took the shy singer by the hand and led the scrawny boy towards the rarely skittish creatures.

“Hold your hand out palm up, so they can sniff you.”

Freddie was adorably incredulous, whispering over and over under his breath. “I’m being sniffed by a caribou. I’m being sniffed by a caribou. This is the best day of my life. I’m being sniffed by a caribou.”

Brian cleared his throat, eyes unblinking as he worried at his bottom lip absently. “John. Why are there caribou on our roof?”

“They’re uh… reindeer… That’s the term they prefer.”

Bri nodded, waiting a suitable amount of time before. “Right. John. Why are there reindeer on our roof?”

“They’re my ride.” He sounded sheepish as could be, drawing a hand through his ever-mussed ivory hair, pretty sure that Brian was inches away from pulling a Santa Clause and shoving him off the roof to die.

“Your ride home is… in a sleigh drawn by reindeer? Were the red-eye all booked up?” Disbelief written across his soft features, plain as day.

“Uh no. You um… caught me red-handed. I actually have to make some deliveries first.”

The toy bag was resting in the back. It was magic, you see, the correct toys wouldn’t appear in his sack until he had reached the intended home. The children sleeping softly in their beds, eager for what the next day would bring.

“You have to make deliveries in a sleigh drawn by reindeer on Christmas Eve?” Brian rolled his eyes skyward, those bony arms crossed to hide the way they trembled. “I think I know this story. Isn’t that Santa Claus’ job?”

John shifted side to side, clearly uneasily. “Well, yeah. Though can you really count it as a job when I’ve never gotten paid?”

Bri looked more frozen than the ice freezing on the edges of his curls. “Excuse me, what?”

“You heard me, Bri.”

“Um, no. I didn’t hear you, because Santa Claus doesn’t exist.” And this was the man who thought he was so much better than those who called Galileo crazy, for suggesting that the world didn’t revolve around the earth? Wow. Irony.

John rolled his eyes, because this was going nowhere and he didn’t have any time to lose.

“Look, believe whatever you want. But I don’t have time for this. Take Freddie and Rog and go back inside. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

He moved to climb into the sleigh and change clothes. But not before seeing an eager Roger sitting in the front seat, beaming from ear-to-ear and practically bouncing where he sat. “Oh fuck that, come on boys! Let’s go save Christmas!” The drummer crowed, arms spread as wide as could be.

“Rog, Christmas isn’t in danger.”

“It will be if you don’t get a move on, Santa Baby.” A finger reached out to poke at his soft middle and John blushed all the way up to his ears, as Roger began to hum the opening lines of the song.

“Fuck you.” Honestly, he didn’t mind and could give a shit. (At least it wasn’t Little Drummer Boy, for the thousandth time).

“Aw, don’t be shy, Johnny! It’s cute!” Roger squirreled his arms around John again, who rolled his eyes before hugging back, loathly.

“Rog, you are so on the naughty list, for life.” Enjoy coal, bitch. (Okay, so maybe he cared a just little bit).

“Let’s save Christmas!” The naughty blonde simply crowed, throwing out his arms like he was preparing for some sort of grand entrance at a ball (as the princess).

John pouted as he moved to check all the rigging, he wasn’t taking them with him. He wasn’t.

Spoiler alert: He took them with him.

-X-

‘“So you’re too old for Santa Claus”?

He said with a smile

“Then you’re too old for all the things

That make a life worthwhile…

For what is happiness, but dreams

And do they all come true

Look at me and tell me, son

What is real to you?”’

-X-

He cracked the reins to get them soaring into the air, even though the girls knew exactly what they were doing.

His boys seemed the opposite, a complete motley of emotions. Brian was scowling like a sullen little boy, and holding onto the edges of his seat for dear life. Roger was still bouncing around like a little kid on a sugar high, so no change there. And Freddie was trying to avoid looking down.

“Fred, you okay?”

Soft swallow, “I’m not much of a heights fan, dear.”

“HA! Deer!” Yes, Roger was most certainly still drunk from drinking his body weight in spiked eggnog earlier. Or maybe that was just Roger. John unceremoniously reached over and dropped the reins in Freddie’s hands.

“Drive the sleigh for a minute, yeah? I’ve got to get dressed.” He ordered absently, as he climbed into the back to change into the proper attire. The response from the boys was immediate, Roger froze and stared over at Freddie with unspeakable horror. Freddie himself clutched onto the reins with trembling hands and Brian was flabbergasted, as usual.

“Freddie can’t even drive a car, Deaky!”

“Oh we’re gonna die… we’re gonna die!” Roger moaned from the back and Freddie whipped around with a venomous scowl on his face.

“Thank you so much, darlings, for the vote of confidence!”

John tucked his discarded parka around Freddie’s narrow shoulders. “It has to be him. Nobody else has the song power needed to keep this thing up.”

Roger snorted into his hand. “Fred’s good at keeping stuff up.” Fear momentarily forgotten.

Brian eyes were practically suspicious slits, “Song power? Is that a thing?”

Freddie looked like a mix between nervous and intrigued. “Do we have to sing Christmas carols to stay in the air?”

Nope.

“Definitely.”

He dressed in the back as quickly as he could, fortunate enough that his warm suit was tucked safely amongst the floorboards. He hastily handed off pieces of his clothing to whoever looked the coldest, as he was serenaded by the worst Christmas carolers he had ever heard in his life. If the sleigh really did run on song power, oh they would have been dead long ago.

Roger wolf-whistled as he climbed into the front in full-regalia. “Looking good, Deaky!”

John flushed all the way up to his ears and Freddie frantically passed the reins back. A few of the reindeer tossed their heads and gave him scathing looks for being under-siege by such an unexperienced driver.

“You aren’t singing.” Brian deadpanned.

“I don’t have to, I’m Santa.”

-X-

Once they’d hit all the bloody homes in Britain, Brian was sitting there blinking in shock. “How in the world…? It’s been minutes!” (What could he say? He’d had a slow start). Bri’s stubbly jaw was half-hanging open like a shutter door somebody had forgotten to close.

“Stand up, Bri.”

They were flying through the air faster than the speed of light, the ocean swirling, curling and sloshing beneath them. Brian looked at him like he’d just suggested jumping into it.

“Stand up!”

Brian rolled his eyes and did as requested, so John dropped the reins into Freddie’s hands again, as he pulled Bri over to the edge of the sleigh. They were flying at a height that turned the clouds into cotton-candy and brought the stars ever closer. He tightened his arm around Bri’s tiny waist to support him, watching as those dark eyes filled with wonder once more. A wide, childlike wonder. Mirroring the face of a little boy who had once believed in magic.

Brian May, Hampton. He’d asked for space-related paraphernalia every year for Christmas during his childhood. The one year he’d asked for a bike instead, John had personally attached planetary stickers and streamers to the handlebars.

Bri, when did you stop believing?

His hands reached out to touch the stars.

“Hey, Bri, do you know what they see when they look up at us?”

Those doe eyes were enormous as he shook his curly head. When did you stop seeing the magic in the stars?

“What?” A little smile playing in the corners of his mouth.

“A shooting star… Make a wish.”

That lovely smile took full center-stage again, a man who believed again, in something more.

Merry Christmas, Brimi.

-X-

“Just believe in Santa Claus

Like you believe in love

Just believe in Santa Claus

And everything he does…

Wipe that question from your mind

Yes, he does exist!”

-X-

They flew around the world in a matter of hours.

Even when Freddie begged to be left in Japan (they’d had to bodily put him back into the sleigh, “Just leave me here to enjoy my life!” Fighting for freedom with all his might). Roger was groaning with a sore distended belly from eating all the bloody Christmas cookies that John had shoved in his direction. (“What the hell? Why did you eat them all?!” Roger pulled his big pouty face. “You said they would be upset if you didn’t!” John rolled his eyes skyward before ordering that if Rog had to puke, he more certainly wasn’t doing it in the sleigh. Magic could only go so far.)

And Brian was looking around like he was seeing the world with new eyes.

John made sure he dragged each of them down the chimney at least once, to give them the full-experience of laying down the presents and experiencing the whole shebang.

Their only issue occurred in America. Where they hadn’t noticed a little girl in a fuzzy green nightie asleep on the couch overlooking the tree. She had sat up with a stuffed snake cradled in her lap.

“Santa?”

All four of them had frozen. (Why he’d thought it was smart to bring all of them at the same time was another matter entirely). John had turned though, with a practiced smile on his face, it wasn’t the first time he’d been caught by a pair of curious little eyes.

“Hello, love. You should be asleep.”

She had rubbed at her eyes with a tired little smile.

“Sorry, Santa.”

“It’s alright, little one. I’m sorry we woke you up, my friends are helping me deliver gifts tonight,” He looked around with mock-furtiveness and spoke in a stage-whisper. “They’re a little new at this.”

John gently tucked her in on the couch. “Merry Christmas, Aeryn.” She smiled that child’s gummy grin and pressed her stuffed snake ever closer.

“Merry Christmas, Santa.”

But nothing was better than looking in the backseat of his sleigh, the one that had seen many lonely Christmases in his time, and seeing all his rough-and-tumble boys curled up together instead of empty space.

Brian’s head pillowed on Freddie’s shoulder. Rog curled up across both their laps. Freddie flopped over like a deflated bouncy castle.

For a moment he wondered if being Santa meant giving himself the best Christmas present as well, for when he looked at the boys he’d miraculously accrued… perhaps he already had.

The sleigh touched down in the center of the small elfin village that he’d helped to build so long ago, all of the icy grandeur patterned around that tiny cottage in the ever-wintery wood. The house that had served as his school, his workshop and his home beyond all else.

He hurled himself out of his uncomfortable wooden seat (they really needed to invest in better padding) to careen over to that same little cottage and the old elfin queen who waited for him there. Tante Kringle opened up her arms and he bent in two to hold her close, even as his knees grew damp and icy cold from the snow beneath them. He couldn’t help the sob that escaped his chapped lips.

“Oh how I’ve missed you my little Saint Nicholas.”

“I’ve missed you too, Tante.”

She pressed a familiar kiss against his forehead, tracing the path of a snowflake. “Did you have a lovely Christmas?”

“The best I’ve had in a very long time.”

Her hands crested on her rounded hips and she tsked in his direction. “And have you called your mother yet young man? You know she’s been waiting to speak to you for millennia.”

John groaned and rolled his eyes skyward. “Let her, I do have eternity, you know. And she abandoned me! She can wait.” He flashed her his token impish grin, only this one came with a forked snake tongue and slitted red eyes. His birth-mother’s calling cards.

Oh you didn’t know Krampus had birthed Santa Claus?

Well, that dears, is a story for another time.

-X-

John carried his limp sleepy boys inside, one by one, and gently tucked them in on their messy couch. Brushing his chapped lips across every forehead within reach. “Happy Christmas.” He whispered to each and every single one of them.

The boys who had ‘saved’ Christmas.

But he lingered a moment afterward, saying a little Christmas wish of his very own.

It doesn’t matter if you lot don’t believe in Santa Claus. That’s not something I would ever force anyone to do. But promise me, that you’ll believe in something. Anything. Even when everything is dark and there isn’t a Christmas light in sight? Believe. Believe in hope, believe in the future, believe in yourselves. That is all I want for each of you. That’s what I’m designed to teach. A belief in something incorporeal. Something beyond the limits of the possible.

Yet when they woke up hours later and fervently asked about how things had gone, had everything gotten delivered in time, oh god was John really Santa Claus? He had merely raised an eyebrow, sipping at his hot cocoa.

“Wow, you three certainly got plastered at that Christmas party last night. I wonder what was in that eggnog…” Smiling to himself with a knowing sort of look.

Already getting ready for next year.

-X-

“Just like love you knows he’s there

Waiting to be missed

Just like love I know he’s there

Waiting to be be missed…”

-X-

(MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Features the song: “I Believe in Santa Claus” from the Rankin/Bass Christmas special. :D)

#fic #submission #secret santa gifts #christmas #john: santa claus #magic au #relationship: polyamorous #fluff #sharing a flat #relationship: established

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dresupi · 6 years

Text

At Least There’s Mistletoe

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Remy LeBeau For: @probablyunnecessary Prompt: Mistletoe kisses Rating: G Word Count: 1036

[Read it on Ao3]

Summary: Coulson hadn’t been kidding. It certainly didn’t get very cold down south. And that wasn’t exactly adding to Darcy's holiday spirit in the slightest.

The winter holidays were exactly that. Wintery. With snow and fireplaces and coats and mittens.

Not sweaty nights debating on whether or not to turn on her window air conditioning unit.

And it certainly doesn't help matters that she barely knows the man into whom's protective care she's been thrust.

Check out the [25 Days of Darcyland Masterlist] for more holiday themed fics! I’m posting one a day until December 25!

"Where are you going?" Darcy asked, stepping out onto the porch of the safe house.

Remy turned, his eyes flashing red as he gave her a look. A look that implied that she should know exactly where he was going, but Darcy had given up long ago on trying to understand the nuances of his personality.

She crossed her arms. "Don't look at me like that. I never know anything."

Rolling his eyes, he bent slightly, retrieving the axe from where it was leaning against the chopping block. "I'm goin' to get ya a tree. And ya do too know things, ya just bein' stubborn."

"A tree?" she asked, deftly ignoring the rest of his statement.

"For Christmas? You've been mopin' around and hintin' about it enough, I figured ya knew where I was goin'."

"Why would I know that, Remy? How would I know that?"

"Figured ya knew…" He turned, slinging the axe over his shoulder and walking towards the forest.

"I'm coming with you," she called after him.

"Suit yourself. Wear comfortable shoes."

She glanced down at her feet, still in her slipper socks from that morning. She jammed her feet into the hiking boots she'd never really worn that were sitting by the front door, bending forward to lace them up.

Maybe she had been moping around a lot lately. Staying in bed. Reading books and keeping to herself. But she was stuck in a safe house with someone she didn't know from Adam. Of course, she hadn't really been trying to know him either.

Better late than never.

She tied both boots, straightening up and realizing that Remy had not waited for her. He had a mega headstart. She could still see him across the field that stretched out in front of the safe house. He was tiny; in the distance, but she could see him.. Sighing heavily, she weighed her options in her head, thinking that maybe it'd be easier if she just stayed behind.

He stopped walking, turning to look back at her on the porch. Cupping his hand over his mouth, he called, "YOU COMIN', CHERE?" And pretty much made the decision for her.

"YEAH!" she replied, debating on whether or not to take her coat from the hook by the door and deciding not to. It wasn't nearly cold enough to warrant something as heavy as her coat. She was wearing a hoodie, that would likely be enough. She did pull the door closed behind her, though.

He waited for her to jog up beside him. Which took longer than she'd care to admit. She hadn't exactly been working on her cardio lately.

Remy took off walking as she approached, his boots crunching in the dead grass

Coulson hadn't been kidding. It certainly didn't get very cold down south. And that wasn't exactly adding to her holiday spirit in the slightest. The winter holidays were exactly that. Wintery. With snow and fireplaces and coats and mittens.

Not sweaty nights debating on whether or not to turn on her window air conditioning unit.

"So… what crawled up your butt, Darcy Lewis?" he drawled, a smirk breaking the normally clear cut lines of his face. "I heard from Logan that you was a spitfire. Lemme tell ya, it ain't been my experience, mabelle."

She shrugged. "I dunno, something about getting pawned off on someone I don't know, in the middle of nowhere, right before the holidays and not being able to work any of my cases to boot…" Her shoulders slumped a little. She thrived under deadlines and to-do lists. She was an agent, she should be out… agenting. Not here in protective custody, just trying to stay alive and not die of boredom. "I'd settle for a smouldering spark… even if I'm no longer a spitfire."

"Ya know me," he said, frowning slightly. "You know me."

Of course that would be the thing he'd latch onto.

"I met you the day I got dropped off. I don't know anything else about you," she argued.

"Whose fault is that?" he countered, raising his eyebrows and switching the axe to the other shoulder.

"I guess mine," she said with a sigh, jamming her hands into her jeans pockets. "Tell me about yourself, Remy."

He scoffed. "It ain't that easy."

"Okay…" she trailed off. "Where'd you grow up?"

"That's better," he said with a grin.

They walked about a mile into the woods, with Darcy asking him questions and Remy answering them the whole way. He even got a few in on her without her realizing it. She was about halfway through the story of how her dad bought her a trike for her fourth Christmas when she realized how much she'd told this man about her life.

"You're a sneaky son of a gun, aren't you, Remy Lebeau?"

He winked. "That's a nice way of puttin' it."

"Have you found a tree yet, Mr. Sneaky Pants?"

He pointed straight ahead. "That one."

It was a little smaller than she was imagining, but it was nice and full. She nodded her assent. "Okay, let's chop it."

He reached out and grabbed her arm, "Look up there real quick."

She did, noticing an odd-looking plant growing in a dead tree. "What the…"

"Mistletoe," he explained. "It's a parasite. "

"That's how mistletoe grows? I never knew. Huh…" She folded her arms and gazed up at it. "You aren't gonna try to kiss me are you?"

"Only if you ask me."

She faltered. Because honestly, she'd been hoping he'd try. He'd been so charming and so adorable for the entire day, and maybe it was the fact that she was lonely and maybe even a little bit touch-starved, but she really really wanted his lips on hers.

Gulping, she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay. Kiss me."

He searched her eyes for a moment, and then he did. He reached behind her to prop the axe on the tree trunk and he kissed her. His lips were warm and dry and his hand was behind her head, cupping it to protect it from the tree trunk when he pushed her up against it.

"I can't believe you kissed me…" she murmured.

"Can't believe you asked me to…"

#Darcy/Gambit #Gambit/Darcy #darcy lewis #Remy LeBeau #Gambit #Darcy x Remy #Remy x Darcy #Tasergambit #fanfiction #25DaysofDL #Day 2 #probablyunnecessary #Rated G

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maraudersmessrs · 6 years

Text

Remus Lupin and the Prisoner of Azkaban--- Chapter 27: Hogsmeade Trip

Ao3 link

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29 / Chapter 30 / Chapter 31 / Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34

Remus was warned off of giving specific gifts to specific students by Professor Sprout and McGonagall; “You don’t want to promote favoritism or inappropriate teacher student relationships,” McGonagall had said warningly.

“You also don’t want to be beholden to 75 little ruffians for Christmas crackers,” Sprout had muttered darkly, instilling in him a burning need for that story. But when he had looked at her in curiosity, she had just shaken her head solemnly and sipped her tea.

She did, however elect to come along, as she apparently needed a new stash of Cauldron Cakes; Peeves had dumped all of them down the toilet. “Little bugger doesn’t often bother me,” she had scowled sourly as they met outside the gates in the pearly afternoon light. “I fancy he was bored, what with the castle being empty for weeks on end and there’s no way I’ll be able to manage first year’s greenhouse drama without my chocolate.” She clasped her green cloak and set her fuzzy earmuffs on firmly before looking up at him. “Ready?”

The Apparated in tandem, appearing on Hogsmeade’s snowy streets in stride with each other. The snow looked like icing on the cozy store front with their frosted windows, glowing from within. For a moment, he allowed the ease of this place seep into him; magic folk everywhere, the full moon weeks away, a town steeped with happy memories like a strong tea. How many times had he walked these streets with friends at his side, huddled in sneaky delight beneath James’ cloak or with adolescent smugness? Too many to count, he was sure. He could walk these streets blindfolded, if pressed. A moment of pain passed through his chest; he found if he alighted on memories delicately enough, just grazed them in passing, they hurt far less than being submerged and…wallowing, he supposed the term was.

Remus looked down at Professor Sprout, striding briskly at his elbow. Perhaps it was time for a new memory in this place. “Well, my stop it's Honeyduke’s,” she said. “Anything you're getting from there?”

He studied the sign thoughtfully. “I'll expect that's the safest place to get most things, honestly; who doesn't enjoy sweets? Probably the easiest on my budget as well,” he sighed before eyeing her dryly. “That was the general idea of the holiday amnesia where everyone conveniently forgot to inform me when presents were exchanged, was it not?”

Sprout had the decency to at least not try to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about; she met his eyes and flashed him a knowing grin. “Yep. I told them it wouldn't hold water; too much pride in you to let all that go.”

“Pride hasn't a thing to do with it!” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. She raised hers right back. “Well… at least not all of it,” he subsided, grudgingly.

The smell of warm caramel and dark chocolate flooded over them as they entered the warm, spacious candy shop. While he enjoyed sweets as much as the next person, it seemed the youthful fanaticism with sugar had dimmed in his years away from Hogwarts. Where the ocean of nougat, sprinkles, and icing would have seemed a veritable dream to him when he was Harry's age now had the effect of making his teeth hurt just looking at them. Idly, the both of them wandered down separate aisles, picking through the smorgasbord of colors and flavors. “What does Professor McGonagall like?” Remus asked over the partition featuring a bright blue mouse doing some sort of frenzied, quaking dance, giving faint squeaks intermittently.

“Minerva's a woman who likes the basics; biscuits, some of those lemon meringue bites, the simple things, no special effects.” Her voice issued from somewhere behind a tower of chocolate frog boxes. “You can call her Minerva, you know, lad. You're not our student anymore.”

A small chuckle escaped him at the thought of the awed and terrified look that Peter would have shot him if he dared try to address her that way. The unholy and irreverent glee that would have shone in James and Sirius’s eyes. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m not sure when I’ll feel like a proper Professor anyhow; I still have the maddening feeling everyone knows more than me.” He pondered over the bright stacks before choosing the very bits of meringue Sprout had suggested.

“No one knows more than anyone else, just answers to different questions,” she grunted dismissively and came around the corner to his aisle. “Ah, here they are.” She began loading boxes of Cauldron Cakes into her arms while speaking over her shoulder to him. “Now, listen, you've done your research and you know your stuff. And there's no possible way you could do any worse than the buffoon Dumbledore hired last year; ask Minerva about it sometime. She has a whole tirade. These,” she reached out and plucked a bag of candied violets that apparently sent sparkling purple butterflies flitting about when jostled. “Filius likes these.” Obligingly, he set them in the basket, making the contents shimmer and jostle for a few seconds before settling. “Who else are you buying for?”

“Oh, all the staff.”

“Even Severus?”

“Especially Severus.”

When she shot him a squint of disbelief, he tried to smile as benignly as Luna and said, “Would anything annoy him so much as a thoughtful and accurate gift from me?”

Sprout laughed aloud. “Wicked boy!” She said, approvingly.

They moved about the store, Sprout acting as his candy liason to the professorial body at Hogwarts, pulling this and that from the shelves before he hefted the lot up to the front counter. After a thought, he also replenished his chocolate collection for the students from the wicker baskets where the bars were stacked at least a dozen high. The portly man behind the register quirked his large moustache in jovial amusement at the hoarde, to which Remus said, slightly sheepish, “Er, late holiday shopping.”

“Doesn't bother me any, son,” he chuckled and began to pack them all away into brown bags, decorated ornately with shiny gold patterning.

The sun was crawling high above them when they left the shop, brighter through the veil of clouds than it had been when they arrived. Remus turned to Professor Sprout. “My class is in the afternoon, do you have anything you need to return for?”

She considered the castle far up on the distant hill, then squinted up at the sun before she screwed her long pipe in between her teeth. “Mm, not particularly. Fancy a walk?”

“Certainly.”

“Do you mind?” She flicked the pipe with the tip of her finger, to which he shook his head.

“Not at all.”

She lit it with a decisive jab of her wand and began determinedly puffing on it, long streams of sweet, earthy smelling smoke billowing from her nose and lips asking with her wintery breath. They trudged along in amiable silence, every once in a while breaking it to point out some patron or another, some remembered memory on a street corner. It was cold enough that it bit his toes even through his shoes but not enough to ruin the pleasure of the crisp air and walking with company. Sprout’s nose was bright red above her pipe, but she looked cozy bundled in her wooly cloak, scarf and mittens, grey hair sticking every which way. “How are they working for you? Those?” She asked suddenly after a moment, gesturing with her chin to his hands, as if reading his mind.

“Oh,” he looked down at his brown mittened hands and flexed them. “Wonderful, actually. I hadn't even noticed they weren't cold. Thank you,” he added, and she waved him away airily.

“Bad as it sounds, I had them around and weren't getting much use from them--I prefer gloves, fingerless ones, at that. Figured you’d appreciate them more.”

He laughed. “Waste not….”

It faded from his face, however, when he saw that their absent wanderings had brought them to the fence of the Shrieking Shack. Sprout glanced up at him at the sudden quiet but then made a grim sound around her teeth clamped on her pipe. “Sorry, lad,” She said quietly, sounding as gentle as Remus had ever heard her.

He blinked back at her, then realized his expression must have looked quite bleak. “What? Oh. No, it's…” Looking back at the Shack, he gave an involuntary shiver, the temperature seeming to drop by degrees. He tucked his hands beneath his arms and shot her a fleeting smile he didn't feel. “It's alright.”

She squinted at him and began to say something when she too gave a shudder and rubbed at her arms. This place seemed to suck the sunshine out of the day and suddenly, his meager bag of treats didn't seem even close to balancing out the gifts he'd received. The darkness of the Shack beyond them, the numbing fingers of frigid wind that snuck between cloak flaps and slipped down his neck weighed down on him. He now just felt foolish, standing here with a bag full of candy, hoping to even come close to paying back the charity he had received, unearned. The cold was an ache in his bones and joints, throbbing in his deepest scars. Wait… Remus furrowed his brow, turning to Professor Sprout to ask, “Do you--” but she was looking into the forest over his shoulder, face drained of color.

Time became a stilted. Suddenly, his wand was in his hand and he was facing 3 Dementors that were almost halfway to them from the woods. He stepped in front of Sprout when she made a noise--maybe the beginning of a word, a spell, an order. Something in the back of his mind was trying to tell him that they had nothing to fear, all the Dementors could do--would do-- was drain happiness; they weren’t fugitives. They hadn’t done anything wrong. The Dementor’s wouldn’t do anything.

Wraith-like, they swept forward with something like intent in their tilt. Hunger in the dipping of their heads. Starving…. “We haven’t done anything,” he said loudly, going for strident, but it caught in his throat as they all pulled in a sucking gasp as one. “Go--”

The tide of absolute deathly cold that flooded the two of them swamped any rational thought he might have had. There was an animal terror, here, that was clawing at the back of his mind. Unnervingly, it felt as if he were slipping sideways mentally, as though down a path long since forgotten. Unguarded against. A memory ignited like a faulty match, sputtering.

Night. A bright night. Leaves patterned against the window. A record played in his parents room, warbling, distant. Warm and safe; it smelled like home. A scrabbling at the window, a shadow against the moon. Sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes; a branch? A rasp against the glass; an owl?

No...bigger….

Yellow-green eyes, the predator-pupil glint against the bedside night-light. A vibration, lower than a growl, going deeper than a sound, cutting straight through him. Terror. Frozen. The latch cracking, tinkling to the floor. Help. The muffled thud. Claws on the hard-wood. Slowly. Catching in the wool rug. Stalking. Oh, help…. He opened his mouth to scream, to call out, to say some magic words to be safe but--

He opened his mouth. “Ex--” It was nothing; steam on the breeze. Useless.

The creak of the bed as the beast put up a paw, levering--he twisted to run, flinging himself off the bed--the overwhelming stench of rotten meat, of wet fur, of monster--he was slammed down, he was lifted, fangs in flesh, he was thrown--

You aren’t that boy; you are the monster.

The teeth--the madness--the screaming--

“HEY!”

The bellow came from right beside him and he flinched away, glazed eyes turning. Professor Sprout flung a snowball at the one in the lead, catching it in its middle to negligible effect. She was bristling, pipe forgotten, eyes burning as she bent down to scoop up a rock. “This isn’t tea time! Get out!” The rock sailed over their heads but Sprout’s action broke whatever horrible flashback loop he seemed to be caught in and he began to desperately rummage about for happy thoughts.

Harry. Luna. Neville. Dumbledore. The joy of the castle. Harry is safe. I am home. “Expecto Patronum,” he said slowly, clearly.

Nothing happened at his wand tip but the Dementors, who had already slowed at Sprout’s attack, swirled, more agitated, drawing no closer. Breathe. You’ve done this before. Happiness as a weapon, not as their food. Teaching. You teach, you help. Lily’s voice surfaced once more, echoing from so many years ago; You help people. “Expecto Patronum,” he repeated, louder.

“What he said,” Sprout spat, holding up another snowball menacingly in one hand and her wand in the other. “Expecto Patronum!”

One of them gave an almost animal like huff of irritation and they began to drift back the way they came. But they went slowly, their faces still turned to them as if hesitating.

McGonagall snickering helplessly. Hagrid beaming, presenting his gift. “Go!” Remus barked, “Expecto Patronum!”

At the faint silver vapor that darted from his wand, they finally turned and retreated steadily, drifting silently back into the forest. Remus and Sprout stood, breathing a little too fast,until she sat down abruptly and heavily on a tree stump with a muttered curse. He found that he could really only look at her, feeling drained and a little lost, until he spotted her pipe, lying forgotten in the snow between them. Wobbling slightly, he made his way over and presented it to her along with half a chocolate bar he snapped off without a word. Equally silent, she met his eyes briefly before taking both. He sat in the snow beside her rather woodenly and started in on his own, unenthusiastic. After a few bites, however, he could feel the cold of the ground beneath him rather than the cold within him and the crisp winter air smelled like pine and snow. He now had a stomach instead of just ice, albeit a nauseated one. “Thank you,” he said, a little raggedly after a few moments.

“It was you who cast itl,” she answered, voice rough.

“I was useless. I...I wasn’t expecting...3.”

She looked down at him, then into the distance. “Not useless. 3 is too much for any one person, I expect. I wasn’t too much of a help myself.” She closed her eyes and drew in a shuddering breath. “Made me remember Elodie.”

“Elodie?”

“My wife.”

“I hadn’t known you were married.”

Grimly, she nodded. “Son, too. Gone, now.”

Something in her tone made him ask, “The War?”

She gave a grunt of assent, sucking in a breath through her nose and sighing it back out in a huge billow of rising steam, chewing on her chocolate bite. “Came home one day to no home. Ministry blokes everywhere. And Elodie and David….Well.” She cleared her throat loudly and brusquely crumpled the wrapper of her chocolate. “So it goes.”

He handed her another bar without prompting and she took it. “To think that I would grow to feel unsafe in Hogsmeade again,” she growled as she snapped off a piece with her teeth. “Didn't think we would have to bother with those damn things, what with Apparating, but it seems I was wrong.”

“They seem to be getting hungrier,” Remus said, darkly.

“Starve ‘em all, if I could. Got no business being around any sort of person,” Sprout snarled, her bramble of curls quivering.

“Suppose we had been students,” he said quietly.

“Exactly. We’ll have to report this.”

He gave a toneless ‘hm’ of agreement, staring down at his hands. They sat in silence again until she nudged his arm with her boot and he looked up at her. “Those were hers,” she said in an oddly tender voice, nodding at the mittens. “Hadn’t the heart to wear them and I figured you could do them more justice than moldering in some closet.”

His first genuine smile since the Dementor’s crept onto his face, sad though it was, and he said, “Maybe that will be my next Patronus.”

“Well, now it had better, or I’ll be very put out.”

“I will be sure to keep you informed,” his smile stretched wider. Rising, he helped her stiffly from her perch with a muffled groan of complaint and, together, they gathered their scattered spoils before Disapparating.

#This one's fairly long! Once I realized Pamona was coming along it was much easier to write she's great #Remus Lupin and the Prisoner of Azkaban #ficlet #my stuff #remus

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boss-the-goofball · 7 years

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Winter

So I decided to write a quick Camp Camp thing because I quite enjoy that show and I especially love the Dadvid AU.

This Fic Contains: Dadvid and Naga!Max

Please do not tag this as Max///////vid, I really don’t like that ship and would appreciate it if you respect my wishes.

Now without further ado, please enjoy this Oneshot!

As the sunlight glistened off of the snow that was on the ground, the trees were completely barren and looked to be dead. All was silent in the forest, with the exception of the sound of crunching boots against the snow.

Even with the chilly air threatening to freeze him, David could not resist taking a nice nature walk to enjoy the wintery scenery. Just breathing in that cold air and watching as he could see his breath come out with each exhale.

Rubbing his reddening nose with a hand covered in a mitten, he began to hum a soft tune. “Today is such a lovely day,” he mused softly.

“No, it’s a shitty as fuck day!” A voice shouted from within a bush. The voice sounded very young, and the use of the foul language was enough to take David aback.

Walking over to the bush, David let out a soft sigh before giving a pleasant smile as he held a hand out. “That language was not very nice, I am sure your parents would be disappointed,” he lectured. At the sound of grumbling, David raised an eyebrow. “What was that? Actually, where are your parents? I’m sure they’re worried sick.”

“I said not like they give a shit. Now go the fuck away so I can freeze to death,” the voice snapped.

David flinched before shaking his head and moving closer. As he opened the bushes, he went wide eyed with shock.

The boy was literally curled up and shivering. His bright green eyes were narrowed with annoyance, the snake-like pupils unnerving David slightly. But it was not enough to scare him off, instead it brought on major worry with how the child wasn’t even wearing a shirt.

He immediately found himself going back into the mindset of a worried counselor as he removed his outer coat and brought it around the boy. “Who would leave-? Here, I’ll take you to my house and call an ambulance,” he said, gently picking up the child, only now noticing the large snake tail that was part of the boy’s body.

It looked like a type of python’s tail, but that was the least of David’s concerns.

Acting quickly, he lifted up the tail with the boy and tried his best to bundle him up before rushing for his home.

“Hey! Put me the fuck down right now, or else I’ll bite you! I’m poisonous and you will fucking die if you don’t put me down right now!” The boy shouted, trying to squirm out of David’s hold. Humans were bad news, even worse than the shitheads that were his parents and he would not let this one do anything to him.

David knew the boy was bluffing, as he recognized the tail as belonging to a kind of python and those were non-venomous. He kept a hold on the snake-boy as he made it to his house, going inside and shutting the door. He set the child down and went to crank the heater up high. “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you and I couldn’t leave you out there without some form of coverings,” he explained, moving to a closet in the hallway and bringing out the spare blankets and pillows before handing them over to the boy. “Do you want me to make you some hot cocoa?”

He could not fucking believe this fucking human would have the audacity to baby him. However, the idea of a hot something was very appealing… The boy let out a grunt as he took the blankets and wrapped them around himself. The overall warmth of this house was very pleasant, if he was being honest.

“Alright, you just relax and I’ll go get you some cocoa,” David said with a bright smile as he went into the kitchen to grab the fixings. As he waited for the milk to heat up, he started to think. What kind of parents would leave a boy who looked to be no older than ten all alone in the woods, in the middle of winter no less!

David felt his teeth grit as he balled his hands into tight fists. He took a deep breath and sighed, stirring the drinks before adding marshmallows, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup to the drink. Picking up the mug, he went back into the living room and gave an amused chuckle at the sight on the couch.

The boy had buried himself so far into the blankets that only his curly black hair was visible.

Approaching slowly, David let out a small cough. “I have your cocoa,” he said, keeping his voice soft as he held the mug out. “Careful, it’s very hot.”

The boy poked his head out and stared at the mug before reaching his small hands out and grabbing the mug and pulling it in close. Feeling the heat of the mug made a very small smile appear on his face.

Practically beaming, David sat in a chair by the couch as he shedded off the rest of his layers. “My name is David, what’s yours?” He asked, though the glare the boy gave him made him flinch slightly. Perhaps it was just his imagination and the child would still remain cold towards him.

However, the boy shook his head and opened his mouth. “Max,” was his response. He then brought the mug to his lips and took a sip before his eyes went wide. He then gulped down what was in there before pulling it away and exhaling. “Holy shit, that was amazing!”

David still did not like the usage of foul language, but the idea that the boy was actually starting to warm up to him was enough to stop him from chastising Max. “Nice to meet you Max, and I’m glad you like it. Would you want another?” He asked.

Max gave a nod as he held the mug out before he felt his stomach rumble. When David took his mug, he began to rub his stomach before shaking his head.

Smiling softly at the boy, David turned and headed into the kitchen. “If you’re hungry then I can make you some food. I’m guessing you eat meat?” He asked from the kitchen, checking the fridge for the burgers he was planning on cooking.

He knew he had to get Max checked into some sort of doctor, but he wasn’t sure if he should take him to a human doctor or a vet. Though no matter what, David was determined to make sure Max would have everything he could possible need.

#camp camp #bosswrites #fanfiction #dadvid #cc max #cc david #naga max #he's based on a python molurus #or indian python #though seriously #please do not tag this as max/////vid

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classicalsongbirdknits · 3 months

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It’s the Wintery Woods anniversary, and it’s the perfect day for wool mittens here! Wool mittens offer fantastic levels of warmth on cold, snowy and humid days, since it’s naturally insulating and hydrophobic, so your mittens won’t be soaked through when you’re trudging to work or school. And if they just happen to be knit in a design perfect for showing off that lovely fade set of fingering weight yarn in your stash? Even better.

Find the Wintery Woods pattern on my website and Ravelry!

#knitting #classical songbird designs #knitblr #knitknitknit #knitters of tumblr #knitting pattern #knit mitts #knit mittens #mitten knitting #wintery woods mittens

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captainjimsexypantskirk · 7 years

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Cold Summer Break

Pairing: Kirk x Reader

Rating: Everyone

Characters: Kirk, Reader,

Summary/Request: Can I request a kirk x reader where you two are just being idiots in the snow?

BTW: THANK YOU ANON FOR REQUESTING SUCH FLUFF. I am making it so that Jim and Reader go on vacation to a wintery location

Side note: look at that gif. UGHHHH HE IS SO PRETTY

Warnings: Cursing, cute fluffy fluff fluff, nothing scary or bad in this one

Tags: @yourtropegirl (pst, you’re amazing :D)

It had been a long 5 years since you had seen your husband. You two had married right before Jim Kirk went off into space. You were supposed to go with him, but after Kahn and watching Jim die then come back, you knew you couldn’t handle the stress that came with being in space. Luckily the academy was more then gracious, and they let you return to campus to be a teacher. You were teaching young cadets about ethics while out in space. Of course, a lot of them had a hard time listening to you since you married your own captain. Oh well, they thought you were entertaining, and you would eventually get them to listen with the threats of midterms and finals.

Once you finished grading your last final for the year, it was your summer vacation and Kirk was due back to earth anytime. After turning in grades and locking up your office for the summer, you moved quickly to the ship yard. In San Francisco, it was unusually warm. You adjusted your casual sun dress and fanned yourself as you waited. As time continued to pass, you sat at a bench and started to read a random article about the architecture of York Town when a man approached you.

“Good god its hot” He said and you looked up to see his blue eye starting at you. “Hello beautiful” He said and you giggled, standing quickly to hug him

“Jim! You said you were going to call when you landed.” You moved to hide your face against his neck for a moment as you spoke, his arms tight around you. You had missed being in his arms so much over the past five years.

“I know. But we got here sooner than anticipated and I spotted you as we landed, so I knew where to find you. Have I mentioned that you look absolutely beautiful?” He looked at you, his eyes bright with happiness and you giggled.

“Oh shush. You don’t look so bad yourself.” You responded and smiled bright. He leaned down to gently kiss your lips and then let out a sigh.

“Good god, it is too damn hot here” He groaned out and you laughed.

“We could always find some snow. How long has it been since you have seen snow?” You asked and he smiled fondly, thinking for a second before he let out a sigh.

“Too long. Let’s go plan our vacation hmm?” You nodded in response and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as the two of you headed back to your apartment.

A little over 24 hours later, and the two of you stood outside Timberline Lodge. The two of you decided to take a road trip to the northern Oregon mountains to enjoy some snow. You two stood in front of the lodge, that was busy with people going in and out. The two of you had no desire to ski or snowboard, you just wanted to enjoy the beautiful landscape and maybe make some snow angels.

“I cannot believe we drove here overnight.” You whispered and Jim chuckled.

“I never thought I would be in this state. Oregon is nice though. Everyone is really kind here” He whispered and you nodded. The two of you looked at each other for a while in silence.

“Let’s go check in.” You said, breaking the quiet and you nodded as the two of you headed through the main doors. The service at the lodge was speedy, and in no time the two of you were getting settled in your room.

The room was beautiful, you had a view of the ski lift, and the main slope. The whole room was covered in wood, and there was a wood burning fireplace at the foot of your bed. It was small, cozy and romantic for the both of you.

The two of you had been rather awkward. It had been five years since the two of you had stayed in the same living quarters. Even when you two had married, you had been together for only about a year. It was still new and a bit awkward. The two of you had a hard time coming up with something to do, and before you knew it the sun had set and the outside was dark.

“Damnit” He whispered and you looked up from your book.

“You have been spending too much time with Bones, you say that word so much more now.” You joked and he looked at you with a raised brow.

“I do not”

“Oh, yes you do, now why did you say ‘damnit’ in the first place?” You asked and moved across the room to him. He sat in one of the large reclining chairs and you carefully slid into his lap.

“We wasted a whole day here. We didn’t do anything.” He nearly whined and you laughed soft, stroking his stubbly cheek gently. You loved when he allowed his facial hair to grow out a tiny bit.

“Well, then we will do something!” You exclaimed after a quiet moment. You jumped up and started to bundle up. Jim looked at you with a raised brow.

“Y/N, what are you doing? It is almost 10 at night.” He watched you get dressed and you giggled.

“I think we need a snowball fight. Get dressed! Come on!” You swatted at his arm and his eyes lit up, a playful smirk crept across his lips. Oh, you were going to get it.

Within minutes the two of you were running out the main door to the lodge, and running towards a cluster of Pine trees. You had hit a patch of ice and nearly fell on your ass which caused you to both laugh with delight. As soon as you made it to the trees, you hid behind one and started to form snowballs, Jim did the same.

Your mittens were doing nothing to keep your hands dry as you formed the white powder into balls. The water was seeping through and freezing your hands, but you pushed through.

“I’m going to get you Y/N! You are going to regret challenging me!” Jim yelled and you laughed, letting him talk all he wanted. “I am the master of strategy!” He yelled as he concentrated on making snowballs. You looked towards the trees across the way, and saw his quick movements. You knew he was focusing on making as many snowballs as possible, so now was your chance.

Slowly and as quietly as possible you made your way around the trees, making sure to stay out of his line of sight. You had the hem of your sweater in your hand, creating a little bowl like section that carried your small pile of snowballs.

“You don’t stand a chance against me, my beautiful wife!” He yelled and you smirked, sneaking up behind him. You were almost silent, he had no idea you were there.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, just a few feet from him. The closeness of your voice made him jump and turn around and you laughed before starting to throw the white weapons of iced fluff at him. He laughed and tried to run away but he slipped and fell onto his rear end.

“Y/N! Okay! Okay! I surrender!” He yelled out and laughed and you dropped the rest of your snowballs before rushing him. You straddled him then you grabbed some of his snowballs from the pile next to you two and smeared them on his face. He yelled out and laughed harder and grabbed some, doing the same to you which made you squeal. He then grabbed a couple and shoved them down your shirt before holding you close. You gasped and flailed against him, trying to get away from the offensive cold.

“Jim! Oh, you butt!” You yelled and eventually wiggled away. After a few moments of more wrestling the both of you laid on your back in the snow, panting.

“That was the most fun I have had in years.” He whispered and took your hand, kissing it gently. You turned onto your side and looked at him. “I missed you so much. I am so happy to be home” He whispered and pulled you close, kissing you gently. You kissed back soft and relaxed against him.

“I missed you too… don’t leave again too soon okay?” You asked and he nodded.

“Not for a while. Now, let’s go warm up inside.” He smiled and stood, pulling you up to your feet before wrapping an arm around you again as the two of you made your way inside.

#Jim Kirk #jim kirk x reader #star trek imagines #star trek aos #reader insert #fluff #cuteness

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imaginingsvt · 7 years

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// S.Coups + winter moodboard

// “I hate winter.” You whined as you pulled up your scarf to cover your face. You’d been walking through the frozen woods for a while now, hood safely pulled above your head and mitten-clad hands buried deeply inside your pockets. Your cheeks were starting to hurt, and it had been a while since you’d actually felt your thighs. A chuckle emerged from your boyfriend as you groaned and tried to get as much skin as you could beneath the piece of fabric. A moment later, a pair of eyes, peeking above a red scarf, came into your vision. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, winter is wonderful!” It was hidden for now, but you knew Seungcheol was smiling widely. “It’s full of wonders, and it’s beautiful, and there’s Christmas!” Your boyfriend’s grin shifted in was you knew was a exaggerated pout, as you didn’t show as much enthusiasm as him about the cold season. “What do you say we finish this little stroll and get back to the cabin? I can start a fire and make hot coco... I’m sure I’ll find a way to warm you up...” This time, you knew you couldn’t blame your red cheeks on the biting wind.

// Request: hi i would like to request a wintery scoups moodboard pls

//admin cora//

#i am back #woo #im sorry guys #i was gone for a while #s.coups #choi seungcheol #seventeen #svt #seventeen aesthetic #svt aesthetic #seventeen moodboard #svt moodboard #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

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novacabtaxi · 4 years

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Seeing Manhattan Without Uber Or Subway – GoNOMAD Travel

Exploring Lower and Mid-town Manhattan on Foot

By Supriya Pant

Put on a pair of walking shoes, carry some water, and just set out to discover the island of Manhattan, NYC.

My personal journey on foot started with the idea of taking the New York City’s subway system to reach any particular area and promising myself that once I get off, I would only get back with sore feet that are ready to collapse.

A quick disclaimer, I am skipping some usual suspects, like Central Park and China Town because a day in Central Park or China Town is a different theme altogether. To those who feel you have seen it all, I say walk again and discover Manhattan like never before.

NYC is made up of five boroughs, Manhattan is the most famous. You can start your exploration from any place, but I suggest have the area mapped out.

Day 1: Exploring Greenwich Village

My day one started at the west side of lower Manhattan, better known as Greenwich Village. O. Henry paid a memorable ode to West Greenwich village in the opening lines of his haunting short story ‘The Last Leaf’.

In a little district west of Washington Square, the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called “places.” These “places” make strange angles and curves. One street crosses itself a time or two.

Then the Village was used to house struggling artists and musicians. The famous Hotel Albert here hosted everyone from Walt Whitman to Andy Warhol.

In the ’90s it became popular as the dwelling of the sitcom Friends. Though the show was shot in LA, the characters lived here. You can spot plenty of the famous fire exits everywhere in the Village area and the exterior shot of the building shown in the show can be found in 90 Bedford Street.

Chess in the Park

There are plenty of other things to do here like just sit around Washington Square Park. The impressive Washington Square Arch presides over a large fountain and a dazzling array of street performers.

Checkmate a buddy on the north-west corner of the park with its built-in chess tables or watch some furry friends play catch in the dog park.

The area around Washington Square Park also houses the famous New York University, to add to its vibrant young exuberance.

If you get hungry MacDougal Street is around the corner and makes global food fest a single street affair.

You can hop skip jump between the Ethiopian Injera, Vietnamese Pho, and Spanish Tapas. MacDougal Street is also home to The Comedy Cellar, which hosts both amateur and famous comedians in the New York stand-up scene.

For a change, try skipping Starbucks for a quaint Greenwich Village cafe. There are Reggio and Dante among others. You get cozy wooden interiors and a cup of old-fashioned cappuccino. If you want something stronger to drink, then have plenty of options for booze too.

Reggio’s 1902 Coffeemaker

Not taking sides, but my personal favorite is Reggio, with walls adorned with Italian renaissance paintings and the giant coffee machine from 1902. Take a book along or get a window seat and watch the buzzing street outside.

The village has taken center stage in many historic movements. If you decide to walk ahead there is Christopher Street. It has Christopher park with the famous George Segal sculpture honoring the gay rights movement and commemorating the events of the Stone Wall Inn that stands opposite the park.

The village has introduced the world to Beatniks and Bohemians. Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, and John Lennon have called it home at different times. Every street here has a hidden corner deeply drenched in rich history and trust me walking around is the only way to sink into them.

Day 2: Explore-Midtown Manhattan

This area is the heart of Manhattan’s activity. In the heart of it is Times Square. Placed at 42nd and Broadway, Times Square is filled with a dazzling display of billboards, lights, and Broadway musicals.

It’s always brimming with tourists, buzzing with activity. Fun fact, Times Square got its name when the New York Times moved here in 1904. Before that, the area was known as Longacre Square. The already crowded hub gets almost 2 million people when the ball-drop happens, ringing in the New Year.

Through the years, it has served as a popular backdrop to many celebrated pieces of art from the iconic V-J Day kiss photograph to the masterful ‘Birdman’. So, it is likely at first look it gives a vibe of “been here” but if you can be a little patient, sit on the red bleacher stairs at northern Duffy Square and soak in the mood, it will turn up as a worthy pit-stop.

Watch a Broadway Show

You can watch a Broadway musical or take a five to six-minute walk to Bryant Park. Adjacent to the New York Public library this park was a no-go area in 1970s, due to its notorious association with drugs and drug dealers. The park got restored to its current status due to the efforts of prominent and common New Yorkers. Google even installed free Wi-Fi.

It’s now an all-weather park, with Empire State watching over it. I especially love it in winter. The Winter Village kiosks serve everything from hot chocolates to hand-knitted mittens. Then there is the ice-skating rink and if you are really lucky you even get to witness the frozen Bryant Park fountain in all its glory.

Also walk over next door to the New York Public Library, to witness its magnificent ceilings and reading rooms and also drop by at the children’s section in the basement to see the original Christopher Robin’s toys that made the world of hundred-acre wood.

Skating at the Rock

A little ahead in the walk is the Rockefeller Center with its famous Ice-skating rink and the even more famous Christmas tree. Even on a non-wintery day, its observatory deck offers a great view of Manhattan or you can just enjoy walking around and marvel at the Art Deco construction that includes the famous Radio City buildings.

A short distance away is the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art (MoMA). On Fridays, they even offer free tickets between 4 and 8 pm. It’s a great place to get absorbed in Manet, Monet, and Picasso. It houses some of the world’s most famous artworks including Van Gogh’s Starry Nights and Monet’s Waterlilies among others. MoMA’s modern and pop art collection includes the not-to-be-missed works of Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein.

If the “Campbell’s soup cans” manage to stimulate your hunger, it is time to head out for Halal guys on 53rd street. Their killer red sauce on chicken over rice is well worth the long queue and wait. Cart food is another delight in the gastronomical landscape of New York City.

Even if you skip the Halal guys, head over to any of the zillion carts around the city and get yourself anything from gyro to falafel with a healthy dose of red and white sauce. You haven’t tasted New York if you haven’t tasted its cart food.

A good way to end this midtown marathon would be to head to Grand Central Station. You wi

ll need to backtrack a few steps from MoMA but Grand Central in just fifteen minutes away. Apart from being a transport hub, the station is also a shopping and dining hub. It has a cathedral-like exterior and is most famous for the astronomical ceiling in its main concourse.

Look out for the average commuters in a hurry while being the star gazing tourist! Experts may doubt the accuracy of the constellations, but this backward universe and the four-faced opal grand clock is definitely worth a watch. It’s a famous place to meet!

Day 3: Explore-Wall Street and the Financial District

At the southern end of NYC, the New York Subway greets you with Oculus. If Grand Center takes you into the grandeur of the past, Oculus is futuristic spaceship-like. During rush hours you can spot all the banking stereotypes here. Suited men and women, juggling mobile phones along with morning coffee after all Oculus belong to the busiest business district of all, Wall Street.

You can get into the observatory of one world trade center and enjoy the birds-eye view of Hudson and Jersey City skyline. The elevator to the observatory also plays an interesting graphic history of the city as it zooms you into its top floors.

Just south of the center you will be in the sobering presence of the National September 11 Memorial and Museum.

From here you can charge through streets and reach the charging bull statue in about 15 minutes. You will walk past imposing building of the wall street area, cross Trinity church, and then might have to battle a queue of selfie stick holders before you get your turn with the bull.

At a short distance from the charging bull, you will reach the southern tip of Manhattan. It’s the sight of the historic Battery Park.

There is much to be appreciated here if you are history buff, but other than that it also offers a path along the Hudson to stroll, bike, or run and a stunning view of the freedom tower and Statue of liberty. Ticketed ferries are available for Ellis Island and Statue of Liberty from here.

Alternatively, a little ahead you can take a free ride on the Staten Island Ferry at Whitehall Street and feel the Hudson breeze as you experience sailing across the majestic lady liberty.

If you are still up for a longish walk after the ferry ride, the Brooklyn Bridge is around forty minutes away. In 1884, 21 elephants and 17 camels had to walk across it to prove to the public that the suspension bridge was steady.

Today we have no such problems as both pedestrians and bikers share busy narrow lanes across it. This great feat of engineering is always a very busy tourist attraction.

Ideally, end this day with a walk fifteen minutes away to South Street Seaport. Did I mention it’s one of the oldest and most picturesque neighborhoods of Manhattan?

Take a sneak peek at the South Street Seaport Museum, stop for a drink at the cobbler stone street, or just feel the ocean from the pier and watch the sun go down.

All this my friend is just Manhattan! The city of endless possibilities never disappoints steady feet. So, ladies and gentlemen next time you are in the Big Apple, skip the cab, and don’t forget those sneakers.

from TAXI NEAR ME https://taxi.nearme.host/seeing-manhattan-without-uber-or-subway-gonomad-travel/

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in-low-lamplight · 5 years

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boulangerie du coin

Crisp, white snow falls in sheets on the ground, and your breath forms light clouds in the wintery air. You pull your wool mittens off and push open the heavy door of La Boulangerie du Coin, a local bakery where you hope to purchase some sweets for today’s holiday tea. There’s a large, brass bell strung onto the frosted window of the door, and it rings behind you, making a sweet ding-a-ling sound as the door closes.

You close your eyes, and the heavenly scent of fresh-baked bread wafts towards you. When you stare at the glass displays, shelves, and counters, there is a grand assortment of all types of aromatic pastries: hearty loaves of rye bread carefully dusted with flour, cinnamon cakes and studded with golden raisins, and baguettes and all sorts of breads with braided crusts. Encased within the displays, you see tarts garnished with fruits, lemon pastries embedded with raspberries, plum preserves sandwiched between two cracked sugar cookies, and an array of candies. You grasp the worn wood of the counter, leaning in so close to the glass that you can almost taste the delicacies.

People meander about; some hold the hands of their children, and other couples walk by in pairs, smiling and enjoying the lively atmosphere. A stout, cheery woman (a mother preparing the family’s holiday feast, most likely) has her arms piled high with fresh sourdough and brioche. A small child prattles on, tagging behind her and clutching a large, honey-coloured lollipop.

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

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The Art Of Remembrance (Part 4)

Azula sits up, every fiber of her soul and body standing on end. The wind whistling against the side of the house unsettles some part of her. She can’t say exactly why; at first she thinks it is simply because it is a reminder of the unrelenting cold that had almost killed her. But she thinks that it is deeper than that. More primal. Complemented by the nightmare, the shrill howl and the slight shaking of the house leaves her jittery and on edge.

She doesn’t know where to go but she doesn’t want to remain on that sofa, fighting for sleep that won’t come, so she takes to wandering aimlessly about the house with only a small flame in her palms. She meanders into the living room and stands before the rack of weapons. Those will occupy her, at least for a short span of time.

She brushes her fingers over the dull surface of the blades, runs them over the intricate tribal etchings. Her fire glints and bounces off of the metal. She traces her fingers to the end of the topmost sword. To the hilt. Wrapped around it is a dark leather that ends in long fringes.

She follows the length of the fringe to wear it ends with several large wooden beads, teal and navy in color.

The craftsmanship is sublime.

“What are you doing?”

Azula gives a start and nearly drops the sword.

“Sorry.” Sokka whispers, holding his hands up. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Azula shakes her head.

“Is the bed not comfy?” He pauses. “No wait, I know! It’s too cold isn’t it?”

“That’s not it.” Azula replies. Though it is rather chilly for her liking.

“Then what is it?”

“Don’t worry about it.” She replies.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, nevermind. It’s foolish.” She cradles the sword back in place.

“So it was a nightmare then?” Sokka asks. “Zuko always gets really defensive and secretive about nightmares.”

“Zuko…” she tests the name, trying to coax any familiarity out of it. Still, the name remains as empty as her own.

“What happened in the nightmare?” Sokka persists.

She picks up another weapon and inspects it. This one is a spear with a stone head.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone.”

“I died.” She puts the spear back in place.

The wind gives another howl at the house. She stares down at her feet with her hands clasped behind her back.

“I think I know how to make things better.” Sokka smiles.

Azula stares expectantly.

“It always comforts me.”

Azula quirks a brow.

“Follow me.” Sokka smiles. He tosses her a coat and a pair of mittens.

The firebender looks at the door. Reluctantly, she slips into the winter attire and lets Sokka lead her out into the snow. Instinctually, her stomach turns. In comparison to the last time she had stepped outside, it is more pleasant. It is quite peacefully so. Snow still falls but it is lighter. Kinder. A gentle little dusting that clings to her lashes and the fur on her hood.

Her breaths come out in small puffs. She watches an artic wolf-fox cross the snow in the distance. Despite the tranquility, she wants to go back inside. Even as abundantly bundled as she is, she still shivers.

“Why are we out here?”

.oOo.

Sokka’s heart sinks; she isn’t even giving him a chance. He should have known that the firebender would have no interest in the cold majesty of an arctic night. He marvels at twisting curtains of light, she hasn’t even noticed. In fact she seems only to stare at the ground, watching each and every step she takes or blankly at the snow gusting about in the tundra. Winds blow loose flakes into large banks, the wisps of wintery powder slither like snakes in the wind.

The sight is familiar and comforting as it is sinister and dangerous. He thinks that she can only ever know it as a sight to dread.

He considers asking her again, what she had dreamt of.

He comes to find that he has no need.

“I died in the cold.” She says.

Instinctually, as he would with his own sister, Sokka takes her hand. “You’re alive.” He laughs, “I can tell because you’re complaining.”

“In my dream, I mean.” Azula replies.

Sokka gives a resigned sigh, “is this your way of telling me that you want to go back inside?”

“It’s my way of telling you that you better have a good reason for bringing me back out here.” She folds her arms across her chest.

“Look up.” Sokka points.

.oOo.

Azula tilts her head. A quartzy dusting of stars glimmer in a deep blue sky. The glistening snow below creates a frigid and elegant ambience. And then she sees what Sokka is referring to. They are luminous curtains of vivid teals and electric greens with an occasional burst of rosy pink.

“I like to watch them. They never get old because they seem to look different every night.” Sokka says.

They shift and twirl in the air like pastel flames. Sometimes dipping low enough that Azula feels as though she can reach out and touch them. She holds a hand out, if only to humor herself, but only catches snow.

“They’re nice, right?” Sokka grins.

Azula shrugs, “they’re alright, I suppose.” They’d be better under different circumstances. The more she stares out into the vast tundra, the more that the unease begins to seep in. She half expects to see them stalking over the snow, ready to fight to take her back. She takes an unconscious step towards Sokka.

A particularly strong gust sends her into another round of vicious shivers.

As awestriking as the celestial colors overhead are, the icy breath on her cheeks pulls her attention elsewhere. Feeling it on her skin makes her fingers tingle, even the one that she no longer has…

Especially the one that she no longer has.

The queasiness doubles. She can feel the cold seeping into her bones, turning them to ice. Abruptly, she turns and begins a brisk and somewhat clumsy walk back to the house. Sokka, well accustomed to trekking through deep snow, catches up absurdly quickly.

“Sorry.” He mutters. “I thought that you’d like them.”

Azula pauses to look at the lights once more. “I do.” She admits. “But I also like the nine fingers that I still have.”

She doesn’t mention how unsettled the landscape--and its horrific weather--makes her feel.

How trapped.

How downright frightened.

.oOo.

Sokka laughs. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“You guess?” She whips around to face him. “How about this, I’ll amputate your finger and keep it for myself.” She carries on with her stubborn, awkward-gaited stride, leaving him to dwell on her empty threat.

“It didn’t change you much.”

Azula brings her strides to a halt once more. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re still you. Even if you don’t have your memories.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Sokka considers the question; it is almost like a reset in some way. She is more like her old self; less impulsive, more logically driven. Sharp-staring and rational. And yet this is her more dangerous temperament. It is the one that had allowed her to burn and singe he and his friends. That helped her overthrow Ba Sing Se. He considers that cold and calculated, piercing stare and then that later vicious, more wild gleam in her eyes as she lashed out at his sister and at her own brother. He decides that he does wish that her amnesia would have left her softer, more timid. “Let’s talk about this inside.”

Azula doesn’t protest this suggestion but she doesn’t drop the topic now that they are back in the warmth of his home. “You think that it’s a bad thing.” She says simply. “Why? Who am I?”

“I told you, I’ll tell you all about yourself on the boat ride home.”

“Home as in the Fire Nation in general or home as in, to my home specifically.”

“Your home.” He replies. “Your brother has been looking for you, believe it or not.”

“I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t.” Azula shrugs and finds herself a seat closest to the fireplace. She ignites the wood within.

Sokka cringes. “Yeah…”

The way she stares at the fire gives him the impression that she has picked up on his wince. He could really use some more time under the lights. Maybe he should leave her to the comfort of the fire and return to his own happy place.

“I shattered.” She speaks, leaving pause enough for Sokka to take in the crackle and pop of the fire. “In my nightmare my body froze and shattered.”

Sokka isn’t sure if he is supposed to fill the gap with a reply.

“I don’t like it out there, Sokka. It’s too cold and the only memory I have of it is that it almost killed me and then took my finger to ensure that I’d never forget.” She gives another pause. “Do you know what it is like when your clearest memory...your only memory is that.”

Sokka swallows. “That’s why I was trying to show you something pretty. It isn’t all harsh, it can be beautiful and kind.” He wonders if and hopes that the same can be said for the woman in front of him.

She peels off her mittens and stares at her palms. “I suppose that I appreciate the attempt. Even though it was a dreadful one.”

“Was it though?” He quirks a brow.

“Alright. Fine. Those lights were rather incredible.” Azula admits. He watches her stretch herself out on the sofa and bundle herself up. “Stay with me?” She asks.

“There’s only one sofa.”

“There’s plenty of floor.” She points out and gestures to a sleeping bag that is haphazardly laying on the ground.

“I can’t sleep on the floor.”

The firebender frowns before snatching her pillow and curling up on the sleeping bag.

“You can sleep on the floor?”

“No.” Azula replies. “But I...I won’t be able to sleep anyways, so you might as well keep me company.”

Sokka sighs. “You can keep the sofa.” Joking or not, he decides that he won’t give her a hard time about not wanting to sleep alone. “I said that you can…” but she is already asleep. He almost forgot that she is still running a fever. He lifts her back onto the sofa and curls up on the sleeping back, wondering how he always manages to get the short end of the stick.

He thinks that he is too sympathetic for his own good.

“Hey.” She mumbles. Apparently she isn’t a heavy sleeper. He almost feels bad for having woken her. Not that she won’t fall right back asleep.

“Yeah?”

“You’re taking me home tomorrow, right?”

“I’m taking you home as soon as you stop coughing and sniffling.”

She nods and rolls over, turning her back on him. As soon as he is certain that she is asleep, he wanders back outside--with a promise that he’ll be back inside before she can realize he’d left at all. He only wanders a little ways from the house before turning his face to the sky. Teal and green weave in and out of each other. He is going to miss them. But it will be nice to see Zuko and Aang again. And if he is lucky, Toph too.

He just hopes that they will handle Azula’s arrival well.

He looks out into the tundra, the dark and unforgiving openness. She’d made her way out of such a dismal place, he hopes that he can keep her in the light.

The auroras roll and shift.

#Avatar #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

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