The Graham Dunne —> Dominos Sessa Pipeline

much to think about on a night like this...

elijah hewson bf headcanons

a/n: im obsessed with this man and this band.

loves to lay his head in your lap while he plays his guitar, figuring out chord patterns for a new song hes writing

all the songs he writes are about you (duh), you're his muse. the boys constantly tease him for it but he loves it

has the cutest face when he's concentrated and you love it

loves to hold your hand, have his hands wrapped around your waist, hands on your lower back. any sort of touch

immediately finds you in the crowd and sings directly to you. he loves seeing you dance around in the back of the pit

rockstar bf x rockstar gf like its a must

wears on of your rings on a chain when you can't be at a show ( which is rare). loves to have a reminder of you

him and the boys are always asking for your feedback on new songs. you're always the one to hear it first

brings you on stage to sing a verse of a song with him. its giving "about you" vibes

going out to pubs just to show you off

still gets super nervous and flustered around you. even tho he is a major major flirt

going on tour with the band is your favorite thing ever, from joking with them on the tour bus to dancing at the venue

forever takes photobooth pictures with you. they always end up with him kissing all over your face. he keeps them everywhere, in his wallet, in his phone case, wherever he can

def friends to lovers, took him wayyy to long to make a move, but when he finally did he couldnt keep away from you

loves when you play with his curls. he knows how much you adore them and he loves you raking your fingers through it

i want to fuck pyramid head so bad

One year gone

One year of killing civilians

One year of bombing hospitals

One year of bombing schools

One year of destroying a whole city

One year of starving people to death

One year of making people leave their homes to live in tents

One year and still the world just watching us dying

One year thousands are missing under the rubble thousands arrested with unknown future

One year of thousands of children lost either one of their parents or both

Thousands lost parts of their bodies

I can’t imagine this will continue for a year

Fuck this world fuck everyone

it fucking infuriates me that the most some of you have done for palestine is share a stupid AI generated image way back in may! only to forget about it almost immediately. since then, entire families have been wiped out, children have been mercilessly killed, more refugee camps and hospitals have been destroyed. all while you were looking the other way, pretending like nothing is happening.

and while people remain silent, tumblr continues to censor palestinian voices. to censor a victim of an active genocide is just so fucking disgusting and inhumane. my friend alaa [ @alaa-992 ] has had five different accounts shadowbanned. her latest account was shadowbanned very recently.

alaa has two little children and she just wants to keep them safe and healthy. the area she is taking shelter in has been bombed SO MANY TIMES. she tells me that the children often wake up to the sounds of warplanes flying nearby.

so if you're someone who has remained silent about the ongoing genocide in gaza, it's high time that you start helping palestinians. your silence is complicity. DO SOMETHING!! donate!!

donate here || verification || Les Mis art raffle

don't you want me

wc: 4.4k

cw: slight angst, discussions surrounding death and the poor aging of some scenes in the breakfast club, plus size!live!reader, still gender neutral!reader

summary: wally tells you about how he died, you watch the breakfast club, and shit is getting a little weird.

don't go breaking my heart: pt 1. - pt 2. - pt. 3 - pt. 4

masterlist

Wally meets you in the library every day during your study hall for the next few weeks. 

When it’s quiet, and there aren’t any people around, you spend the whole hour talking. You learn a lot about him, what life was like for him in the 80s, and what his afterlife is like here, as well. He asks questions about your abilities, and though you don’t have many answers to give him, you try your best. 

“Have you talked to a lot of ghosts?” 

You’re sitting at a table in the corner, notebooks and study guides splayed out to give the impression that you’re actually here to do work. Wally sits across from you, chin cupped in the palm of his hand, elbow leaning on the table top. He has a staring problem, it makes your skin crawl. 

“Not really? Not on purpose, anyways,” you shrug, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve had a lot of opportunities to do this.” 

“So I’m your first?” 

The intention to tease is clear - his tone is light and airy - honey brown eyes boring into yours, smile creeping up on his face. You could look at him for hours. You have looked at him for hours, mapping the freckles on his face like constellations. 

“Yeah, Wally. You’re my first,” you giggle, conceding to the bit, “you should feel honored, really.”

“Oh, more than honored,” his eyes twinkle under the fluorescent lights, “and you’re my first, too. What we’ve got going on here is special.” 

There’s a beat of silence, genuineness seeping into the joke. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, “super special.” 

You share a look, and you wish you could reach out and touch him. You wish you could hold his hand, hug him, draw lines from freckle to freckle with your finger. The time you’ve spent with him has been so good - sweet, easy hours spent giggling and blushing. 

And then you leave campus, go home, fight the urge to cry into your pillow. It isn’t fucking fair. It’s not fair that he died in the way that he did, it’s not fair that he isn’t fifty something with a wife, watching their kids go to college. 

You haven’t talked about it much - the divide between you, or the nature of his death - despite the amount of time you’ve spent together. It’s like you’re stuck in this semi-honeymoon phase, wanting to keep being entertained by the novelty of it, instead of letting the truth of the situation infect that happiness. 

It’s so hard, though, when you look at him and think of the life that was stolen from him. 

He sees your smile falter, reaches his hand forward to sit next to yours. You feel the displacement of air, the coldness pressing up against the tips of your fingers. It’s enough, for now. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see one of the other ghosts making their way towards Wally. It’s the kid with the jean jacket and the bleached tips - Charley, Wally had told you - and he looks slightly concerned. 

You put your head down, moving your hand away from his and feigning focus on the worksheets in front of you. Wally had suggested not letting in any of the other ghosts until you figured out how to tell them, though you had a sneaking suspicion he just wanted to keep this to himself for a little while longer. 

Charley plops down in the seat next to Wally, eyes going back and forth between the two of you. 

“You missed group again,” he whispers, like he doesn’t want to disturb you from your studying, “are you still following this poor person around? They can’t even see you, it’s getting creepy.” 

Your eyes, though directed at the pages on the table, widen slightly - has Wally been watching you the same way you’ve been watching him?

You’ve never noticed him looking at you, and you wouldn’t have, because up until recently you’d been trying your hardest not to get too close. It was futile, you can admit that now. 

It almost makes you giggle, knowing that he’d been doing the same thing. 

Wally splutters, “I don’t follow them around,” you can feel both of them looking at you, and it’s getting harder not to laugh, “I don’t know why you’d think that, that’s just…” 

Charley pats Wally on the shoulder, rubbing it slightly and sighing. 

“It’s sweet of you, I think. We’ve all had crushes on living people at some point or another, but this one seems bad. You’re like, obsessed.” 

That’s the thing that does you in. Laugh tearing from your throat, hand clasped over your mouth, trying and failing miserably to hide your amusement.

“Sorry, sorry, oh,” your shoulders are still shaking with your laughter, head bowed in apology before you look up to see a pink cheeked Wally and a shocked Charley, “I really tried, I’m so sorry.”

“Nice,” Wally chastises, though he’s smiling, “the idea of me having a crush on you is funny?” 

Charley still hasn’t said anything, head whipping back and forth between you and Wally like he’s watching a game of tennis. 

“I didn’t say that! I also think it’s sweet,” you turn to Charley, stick your hand out before thinking better of it and pulling it back to your side of the table, “Hi, I’m y/n, yes, I can see you, no I’m not dead.” 

“H- hey,” his eyes are still wide, brain working on overdrive to figure out what’s happening, “I’m Charley.” 

Wally fills him in on the time you’ve been spending together, retelling in theatrical detail the way in which you’d accidentally made it known you could see him.

Then it was your turn, explaining to Charley how you’d known since you were a kid that you could see dead people, but that you didn’t know why, or what it meant. If it had a purpose, or was just an unexplainable quirk. 

To Charley’s credit, he takes it really well. 

He doesn’t get upset with Wally for not sharing, he doesn’t get upset at you for not making yourself known to them sooner, though he mentions that when the time comes for you to tell Rhonda, she won’t be nice about it. He’s a sweetheart, just like you thought he’d be. 

“Have you guys just been hanging out this whole time? That’s why you’ve been missing group so much?”

Wally goes to answer, but you cut him off. 

“What’s group? Do the ghosts here have, like, an afterlife support group?” You find the idea of it really sweet, and amusing, chuckling to yourself until you see that the two boys in front of you aren’t laughing, they’re nodding. “Oh shit, wait, really?” 

“Yeah,” Charley confirms, “It’s run by this guy Mr. Martin. He was a science teacher that died in the late 50s, I think,” he looks to Wally for confirmation, turning back to you when Wally agrees, “He’s pretty cool. We have a bunch of traditions, like movie nights and stuff like that.”

“That’s really cool, actually. I didn’t know that you guys did that. I’m sorry I’ve been messing it up, keeping Wally to myself.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Wally says, and he smiles, a sweet, boyish thing, “I’d rather be here with you.” 

Charley watches the both of you, and he doesn’t think either of you clock the lovesick puppy looks on your faces. He doesn’t know what it means, how it’ll end, but it’s nice to see his friend so happy for once, breaking the monotonous nature of their days at Split River High. 

He leaves eventually, making you promise you’ll hang out with him sometime. 

“So,” you ask Wally, “how long have you been watching me?” 

“You can’t judge me,” he parrots, “and I could ask you the same question.”

“I didn’t say I was judging, I’m just curious, y’know, since you have a crush on me and all.” 

“I do not have a crush on you.”

Wally isn’t the most convincing liar. You can tell, by the way he’s looking everywhere but directly at you, that Charley was telling the truth. 

“That’s too bad,” you shrug, glancing at the clock behind him and beginning to gather your things from the table, “I wouldn’t mind it if you did.” 

Your nonchalance affects Wally exactly the way you want it to, watching as his cheeks grow pink again and as he trips over words that don’t leave his mouth. He starts to say something, but the overhead chiming cuts him off before he can get any words out. 

“Look at that, saved by the bell. Later, Wally.” 

On your way out of the library, you look back to see him still at the table in the corner, slouched backwards and head tilted towards the ceiling. 

- 

When Wally talks to you about how he died, you’re sitting under your tree overlooking the football field. 

He hadn’t had the intention to talk to you about it today, but the football team is training, preparing for next year’s season, and you’d asked about it.

It was nice, talking about football in a casual way at first, explaining things to you in a way you’d understand them, because in your words, you were more of a “music and film nerd,” though you understood the appeal of sweaty men tackling each other. 

You’d skirted around asking questions about homecoming, attempting to spare Wally the reminder, but the conversation was always going to end up there eventually. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, leaning against the tree, head tilted in your direction, “I don’t mind talking about it.” 

“Are you sure? We don’t have to.” 

It’s not pity he sees on your face, but genuine concern. It emboldens him enough to tell you what happened. He goes on autopilot a bit, like he’s told the story so many times that it feels like he’s removed from it - telling a story about someone else, rehashing the grizzly details the way a true crime documentary would. 

He tells you about his knee injury, his coach benching him, his mom pushing him to strive for her specific idea of greatness. 

He tells you he was running so fast, he didn’t even feel the initial impact, just heard the crunching of his neck when he hit the ground. And then it was lights out. Just like that.

He tells you how he stood up from his own body, watched in confusion and abject horror as his coach and team members ran up to him, trying to wake him, thinking he’d simply been knocked out.

He tells you about the gasps from the crowd, whispers shared amongst the stands as the announcer tried his best to explain what was happening. 

It felt like time was standing still, and he’d gotten up so fast that he was confused why everyone was reacting the way they were. He was fine, couldn’t they tell? When his mom rushed onto the field, and the EMT’s loaded him onto the backboard, that’s when he knew. 

He watched as everyone left the field, standing solitary with his helmet in his hands. 

Mr. Martin and Rhonda found him a few hours later, wandering the halls of the school, tears running down his face. 

You don’t mean to cry, you don’t want to take the attention or make him have to comfort you, but the tears fall anyway. Heavy and slow, they build in your eyes before falling over onto your cheeks. You turn your head to the side, wiping them away, trying to hide it. You fail, but Wally just smiles at you - a sad thing, appreciative of your kindness. 

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. I haven’t cried about it in almost… twenty years, I think.” 

“I don’t really know what to say,” you face him, collecting the last of your tears with your jacket sleeve, “I’m just really sorry that happened to you. I wish I could change it.” 

Wally does what he’s been making a habit of, hovering his hand over yours so you can feel the change in temperature. This time though, and only for a second, there’s a flicker of warmth, a millisecond of feeling a solid palm against yours. 

“Did you feel that?” 

Your head whips over to see Wally, eyes wide and brow furrowed. He nods, moves his hand away, and tries to do it again, but it falls through yours - cold air seeping into your skin and sending shivers up your spine. You think the latter is more so a credit to Wally himself, not just the cool sensation. 

“Why did that happen?” he asks, pulling away from you to fiddle with the gold chain around his neck. 

“I have no idea. I didn’t do anything, did you?” 

“Not that I know of,” a slight sigh of defeat, “it was nice though, right?” 

It makes you want to cry again, how small he sounds at that moment. Hopeful and sad at the same time. You’d give anything to throw yourself at him, hug him, run your hands through his hair. 

“Yeah, Wally. It was really nice.” 

Time passes, easy silence as the two of you lay in the grass, staring up at the sky through the tree.  

“Do you miss it? Being alive?” 

He chuckles, shakes his head. 

“Not really. I mean,” he rolls over, props his head up with his hand, “It’s been so long that I’ve kinda forgotten what it felt like. There’s lots of shit I missed out on, and for a while I was so upset about being dead that I didn’t even try to catch up. Like, when Charley heard I’ve never seen The Breakfast Club, he flipped out.” 

“You’ve never seen Breakfast Club?”

“It came out in ‘85, so…” he trails off, “We had a copy of it in the library for a while, but I mostly stayed away from all the popular 80s movies.” 

“I get that,” you sympathize, “but you have to watch it at some point. It’s a classic, I think you’d like it. I could watch it with you, if you wanted.” The question is asked carefully, like you’re still not sure if he wants to keep seeing you. It’s a silly assumption, you know that, especially because his whole demeanor lights up. 

“Yeah, okay,” Wally nods to himself, “I’ll watch it with you.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, dude,” Wally stands from his spot on the lawn, dusting the grass off of himself, and reaching a hand out towards you to help you up. For a second, you forget that you can’t actually grab him, and you both giggle when your hand goes through his, “the film room is basically always empty, but I have other hiding places if you want to come back sometime not during the school day. The security around here sucks, they haven’t updated it since like, my time, so there’s always at least one open door.”

“That didn’t take as much convincing as I thought it would.”

“What can I say?” he shrugs, “I’m a sucker for a pretty face, and you’re very persuasive.”

- 

Sneaking into the school on a Saturday could go really, really badly. 

When you’d walked through your kitchen that morning, and your mom had asked where you were off to, you made the attempt to tell her a story as close to the truth as possible. 

You were going to hang out with a friend - your mom didn’t need to know that friend was dead, and confined to live within the four walls of your high school. 

She didn’t need to know that even though that friend wasn’t capable of touching you, that you’d put ten times the effort into your outfit and hair than you usually would. 

It’s late March in Wisconsin, and the last tendrils of a freezing Winter are grasping desperately for recognition against early Spring. In other words, it’s still fucking cold. Out of an abundance of caution, you’d parked your car about a block away from the school, paranoid about a faculty or staff member seeing it and catching you. 

It was a good idea, but you spend the five minute walk with your arms wrapped around your body, shivering and teeth chattering. 

By the time you make it to the school grounds, you can barely feel your fingertips. Wally is waiting for you by the bus stop, shoulder leaning against the glass, his hands in his jacket pockets and feet crossed over each other. 

“Did you walk all the way here?” He pushes off, coming as close as he can to the boundary without being thrown back to the middle of the field. “You look fucking freezing.”  

“Not all the way here, no,” You huff out a breath, watching as it dissipates in front of you, “but I didn’t want anyone to see my car in the parking lot.”

“Fair,” he says, “Maybe wear a bigger jacket next time?”

You roll your eyes, and start the trek into the school, Wally leading the both of you around the back and through the gym. 

“Sports faculty leave this door open all the time, so they can come in and check equipment, but they were just here last weekend, so the coast should be clear.” He turns around, walking backwards through the gym door and into the hall so he can look at you while he talks. “I don’t want you to make fun of me, but I have a whole thing set up in the film room,” he smiles, ever-present pink flush on his face, “I don’t know if you’ll be able to interact with any of it, but you did kick that football away from you, so I figured it was worth trying.”

He faces forward again, jumping and clicking his heels together. You laugh, shake your head, and follow him the rest of the way to the film room. He holds the door open for you, and when you see the inside, you stand stock still in the doorway. 

You have no idea how he did this, where he got all of this from. There are fairy lights lining the room, soft yellow glow illuminating it and shedding light on the massive pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. There are snacks everywhere. Drinks, chips, chocolate bars you can only assume he got from the vending machines in the cafeteria. The projector is on and pointed at the screen on the wall, paused at The Breakfast Club’s opening title sequence. 

Your hand goes over your mouth, overwhelmingly endeared by the amount of effort Wally put into your movie day. You walk around the room, looking back and forth between him and the spread in front of you. Thankfully, Wally doesn’t take your silence negatively, instead plopping himself down on the floor and grabbing the remote. 

“Well? What do you think? Is it too much?” 

He looks up at you from his place on the ground, patting the seat next to him. You’re shaking your head as you sit, still reeling from the feelings rumbling in your chest and stomach. 

“Not too much, no,” you settle onto the cushions, wrap a blanket around your arms, glad that you can touch the things around you, phantom though they may be, “Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me.” 

“It’s no biggie,” Wally leans back, shrugging his shoulders, “I just thought it would make today more fun.” 

“This is so fucking fun, Wally. You did good.” 

-

The Breakfast Club is a classic, but it’s also a product of its time. 

It’s profound, with complex characters who have complex home lives and interpersonal relationships, it’s thorough in its exploration of what labels and presumptions can do to a person. 

It also has its scenes that have aged incredibly poorly. 

For most of the movie, you almost regret making him watch it. In your excitement to spend the day with him - significant hours, not just fragmented moments in between classes throughout the week - you’d forgotten how triggering the movie would be for him. It feels like a neglectful oversight, but Wally seems genuinely invested. 

He laughs at some of the lighter moments, winces through a lot of the more ugly parts. Slurs being thrown, general and explicit misogyny, fatphobia. 

You don’t need to ask him if the movie is accurate, you can see it on his face. 

You can especially see how much Andrew’s character affects him. A jock, who, not so unlike Wally, cannot think for himself - who spends the majority of his time trying his best to appease his father’s wishes. Who refuses to be a loser, refuses to stand up to his parents and tell them how he really feels.

How that tumbles into his decision making - beating up a kid who didn’t do anything wrong, just to prove to his dad that he’s a man. It’s not a one to one ratio, but it’s close enough. 

He’s quiet as he watches the kids sit in a circle, eyes glued to the screen as they talk about being terrified that they’ll turn into their parents.

You wonder if he’s thinking about the kind of man he’d turn out to be, if he hadn’t died. If he would’ve been harsher, not nearly as accepting as he seems to be now, lacking the 40 years of growth he’s had. 

When the movie ends, freeze framed with John Bender mid-fist pump, you look over to see Wally wiping a few stray tears away. It makes your chest ache, your own eyes watering, throat closing up around the lump in it. 

You can’t imagine what it’s like, to watch forty years of high school students enter and leave, while you’re stuck there, just watching. The jocks, the bullies, the tightly-wound rich girls, the freaks. 

To see the evolution of youth, to watch the times change right in front of you, to realize how small high school is in the grand scheme of things, but to recognize that for Wally, it literally is his whole world. He has to watch, over and over, and see that times really haven’t changed at all. The tropes are still there, the cliches and cliques are just as bad. 

“That was a lot more serious than I remembered,” you laugh lightly, “Are you okay? I wouldn’t have suggested we watch it if I remembered how hard it is.” 

Wally lies back on the pallet he built on the floor, landing softened by blanket-covered gym mats and couch cushions he’d stolen from the teacher’s lounge. He’s staring at the ceiling, quiet to the point of concern on your end when he says, 

“If I’d seen that movie when it came out, I think it would’ve changed my life.” 

“In a good way?”

“In a really good way,” he turns his head towards you, looking up at you from his place on the pillows, “Maybe it would’ve made me brave enough to tell my mom I didn’t even like football. Maybe I would’ve…” He trails off, voice watery and cracking, “Maybe I would’ve stayed on the bench. Maybe I would’ve lived through that game, and the next one, or I’d have quit and done something I actually enjoyed. You know she still goes to every homecoming game they have at this school?” 

“Really?”  

“Yeah. And for all of them, I go out and join her. I sit next to her, cheer when she cheers, boo when she boos, I talk to her even though I know she can’t hear me. I know it’s stupid -” 

“It isn’t stupid,” you interject, “You love her, she’s your mom.”

“It is stupid, though. I told Charley once that I was annoyed I didn’t die in the end zone, instead of the five yard line,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself, “I was upset I couldn’t get her one last win, y’know? What does it say about me, that I keep going back to the field I died on, to watch the game that killed me, because I think it’ll make my mom happy?” 

“That you’re loyal. That you care,” you duck your head, trying to catch his line of sight, “But also, maybe that you care too much. That you put too much stock into what your mom thought of you while you were alive, and now it’s carried over into your afterlife. You wanna know what I think?” 

Wally nods, urging you to continue. 

“I think you’re one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. I think you’re kind, and funny, and you care about your friends more than most living people care about theirs. I think it’s really fucking unfair that you’re not alive right now, and, all due respect to your mom, but,” you pause, working up the nerve to say, “she sounds like she fucking sucked. And you don’t have to do what she wants anymore. Caring about what she thinks is natural, she’ll always be your mom, but it weighs you down, I can see it.” 

“What do you mean, you can see it?”

“It’s hard to explain, but it’s like,” you wave a hand over his body, “the air around you is heavier, sometimes. Like it hurts for you to be here.” 

Wally hums, digesting your revelation, “Damn. That kinda blows. Does it fuck up my figure?” 

“No, silly,” you snort, “Your figure is just fine. Trust me.” 

You take the change in topic for what it is, trusting that he’ll work through your words on his own time. 

“Oh, my figure is just fine? You wanna elaborate on that, or…” 

He props himself up on his elbows, draws his chin down to his neck, and bats his eyes. 

“Wally, oh my god,” you go to shove at his shoulder, out of habit, mostly, used to shoving at your friends when they say something ridiculous. 

It makes contact. 

Like the force of it almost knocks him over, you can feel your hand on his shoulder, contact. 

You gasp, go to pull away because the shock of it is overwhelming, and lightning fast, Wally brings his hand up to cover yours.

He’s not necessarily warm, not fully solid either, but you’re touching. He pulls your hand down, holds it between the two of you and laces his fingers through yours. 

The hum of the projector is the only noise in the room, as you sit in silence and stare, dumbfounded, at your hand in his. 

a/n: hiiiii guys! here's pt 2, i hope you enjoy! i have a very clear idea of what i want 3 and 4 to look like, so stick with me. i watched the breakfast club, realized that wally is literally copied and pasted from andrew, and needed to write about it or i'd die

if you liked this, my masterlist is linked at the top! my asks are always open, and don't forget to like and reblog if you feel so inclined.

also, who else is terrified for the season finale tomorrow????

taglist: @preparedfruit , @lov3bug , @whoopsyeahokay

— fatima aamer bilal, from being unwanted is a language

TRADITIONS AND VALUES | THEODORE NOTT

SUMMARY: You spend Christmas Eve with your boyfriend and his family. WORD COUNT: 8715 NOTES: Just warning you all, this really is a sickeningly self-indulgent romanticised softy Theo and I make no apologies.

The Internazionale di Roma Floo Station was busier than you’d expected, even if it was the crack of dawn on Christmas Eve. People were rushing from one place to another, some with suitcases, others with stacks of presents so tall they couldn't see around them, some dragging wailing children, and others holding signs. You’d yet to even take a step off the platform itself before someone was shouldering past you, mumbling as they rushed by you in a hurry, and you sighed.

Lifting your bag back onto your shoulder, you made your way down the platform towards the collections point, nerves ricocheting higher and higher with every step you took. The floo station in Italy was warmer than London had been, and you loosened the scarf around your neck to let it hang open. The moment you cleared border checks and registration, gathering your wand on the other side and smiling at a not-so-smiley security officer, you searched for Theo. 

It didn’t take long to find him, not as you searched through the crowds of people gathered with signs, leaning against a pillar, bundled in a thick coat and looking adorably sleepy. At your call of his name, his head snapped up, peering around with juxtaposing alertness and locking his gaze on you as you hurried towards him. 

Perhaps it had only been a week or so since you’d last seen him, but it felt like months, as you crashed into your boyfriend’s arms and buried yourself in his embrace once again. 

“Oh, bella, mi sei mancato così tanto.” He murmured, his face pressed into your hair as he kissed across to your temple. 

“I missed you, Teddy.” Your words were muffled as you were crushed to his chest, holding him just as tightly as he was holding you. Blocking out the hustle and bustle of the International Floo Station around you, you took a deep breath, drawing in the smell of him and sighing happily. Letting him go after another breath, he tucked hair out of your eyes, cupping your cheeks when they were unobstructed, and leaning down to kiss you. 

His mouth was warm, and he tasted like coffee and sugary pastries, a flavour you licked from his lower lip as he smiled into the kiss. You were practically melting against him, the racing of your heart calming as his lips soothed away any anxieties you’d previously been harbouring. Running your hands up his forearms slowly, you took his hands in your own, and stepped back.

“You got coffee?”

“In the car.” He smiled, eyes still closed as his head rested on your own. “Proper, Italian coffee. The best kind.”

“Tastes good already.” You teased, and he pulled back, a smirk on his face as his arm slung over your shoulders, tucking you securely into his side. 

“Feel free to have another sample.” He whispered, stealing another kiss from your lips as he reached across your body with his other hand. Taking your bag from your shoulder, his eyes widened as the weight of it almost dragged him down to the ground, rattling and clinking as it went. “Merda, what do you have in here?”

“Gifts for your family! I wasn’t going to show up empty-handed!” 

He peered inside, shaking his head as he stared into the darkness within. “Another extension charm? No wonder it took you so long to clear security.”

“It’s a legal one!”

“Mhm.”

“It is!” You insisted, reaching to snatch for your bag again but he only rolled his eyes, hauling it up onto his shoulder and guiding you out of the busy station. Theo gave a tired hum as he directed you towards the car, a large SUV with plush leather seats, charmed to stay warm, as you settled inside. Plucking up one of the coffees, you spun it around, noting your order on the front, and taking a sip as Theo packed your bag into the back. 

The caffeine rush it gave you was the boost you needed, sending a jolt of warm energy through your body, and as Theo climbed into the driver’s seat, you twisted your head to look at him. “You got my coffee order right.”

“Of course I did.” He scoffed, like it was the simplest thing in the world, and as he started the car, you reached over and placed your hand atop his. He flipped his palm, bringing your wind-chilled fingers up to his lips to place a kiss against your knuckles. As he returned your hand to the gearstick, he settled his own over the top, and began the drive. 

“So, why is it that we’re driving?” You asked, breaking the comfortable silence you’d been in for the last half an hour or so, watching the cityscape melt into frost-covered countryside. 

“My family is excited to meet you, some of them are already up and crowded in the family room by the floo waiting for you. So I snuck out to the garage and thought I’d drive to come and get you so we could spend a little time together first.”

“Oh, Teddy. You’re getting soft on me.” You smiled, and he reached over, squeezing one of your thighs and smirking. 

“Or, maybe, I just intend to pull over to the side of the road and fuck you stupid before we even have breakfast.”

“Don’t be so crude.” You pinched the back of his hand, which only earned you a harder squeeze to your thigh, and a cheeky laugh. “I intend to make a good first impression on your family, and showing up thoroughly-fucked would not help with that.”

“Well, at least you admit it would’ve been fantastic.” He sighed a laboured exhale, like he was pained to concede the hypothetical sex, and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t think they’d care even if you did, for the record. When I say they’re very excited to meet you, I mean it.”

“That doesn’t make me any less nervous.” Came your muttered response, and this time, he turned to look at you for a little longer. 

“I don’t think you understand, bella. They already love you, because they know how much I love you. They’ve been bugging me to bring you home since last year, and I’ve already told them all about you. They don’t have any expectations of you, they just want to know the girl who makes me so happy.”

Your lips pressed together, hiding a soft sound from escaping and watching the roads disappear under the signs as you tried to process what to say, “Theo…” Was all you managed to muster in five whole minutes, and he laughed again gently. 

“Amore mio, I just want you to enjoy today. I only get one day with you, so I want us to make the most of it.” Your stomach twisted at his words, keeping your response to yourself, and choosing instead to pick his hand up. You kissed his knuckles, rubbing your cheek on his hand as he smiled. “Just… do your best to enjoy it, yeah? I want to show you what Christmas in Italy is all about.”

“Okay, Teddy. I can do that.”

“That’s my girl.”

“I think you may actually have more Christmas trees than Hogwarts.” You teased as the car slowly pulled up in front of a large stately home. The driveway you’d just finished travelling up had been lined with sparkling Christmas trees, the snow decorating them and glistening in the rising sun. 

Theo sighed, parking the car and shutting off the engine, staring at the largest Christmas tree yet, sitting in the centre of the forecourt. “I know. Nonna goes big on Christmas, there’s even more inside.”

“How many are there?”

“Thirty-six,” Theo rubbed a hand over his jaw, “Counted them myself.”

“Thirty-six Christmas trees?” Your jaw dropped, and he shook his head in matching disbelief. “Which one do you put your presents under?”

“Funny you should ask that.” His grimace turned to a smile, eyes going a little cloudy as he stared off across the driveway. “When I was younger, my mother used to hide one of my Christmas presents under every single one, and I got to spend all day going around to find them.”

You reached across the car, taking his hand and lacing your fingers through his. He squeezed, coming back to the present a moment later, as his mind returned from his memories. “I bet you were so cute, running around in your little festive pyjamas hunting for presents.”

“I was the cutest. My Aunt Allessandra already got the baby albums out for you.”

“Most people don’t boast about baby photos, you know that, right?” 

His grin was arrogant, “Most people weren’t as adorable as I was. You know some babies are really ugly? Not me, I was—”

“Theo, you can’t call babies ugly!” You smacked his arm, shaking your head at his cackled laughter as you climbed out of the car. He followed suit, closing his door loudly and racing to the back to nudge you out of the way before you could take your bag. 

“C’mon, you know it’s true. Anyways, it’s not like you have to worry about that. Your babies will be adorable, because—” You cupped a hand over his mouth, giving him a warning glare, and he only winked through smothered laughter. Slipping your hand away, he pressed a fleeting kiss to your palm as it left, and scooped up your bag from the car. “Fine. No baby talk from me. Can’t promise about the rest of the family. Nonna wants us to get married by the—”

“Ah! Meraviglioso, they’re here!” A feminine voice called from the large front doors, ones you hadn't even noticed had opened, and you stiffened as Theo’s eyes widened. Several other voices joined the other, footsteps getting closer, and his shock morphed into a small smile.

“Here we go, amore.”

Stepping aside, Theo hardly even had a chance to greet his family before hands were cupping your cheeks, warmed by the indoors and soft as they held you. “Oh, you are so beautiful! Bellisima!”  

“Auntie Allie…” He scoffed, nudging her back, but it wasn’t long before other relatives of his were gathering around too. Two of his aunts and three of his cousins, all chattering between English and Italian, admiring and complimenting, you could guess, based on how pink Theo’s cheeks were going. 

One of his male cousins said something that made him scowl and elbow him in the ribs, before he was reaching through the others and taking your hand. Tugging you closer to his side; an action which settled your nerves but only increased the volume of adoring coos the two of you were afforded. 

“We made big plans for today.” One of his aunts —Giulia, you were sure— informed you, touching your arm lightly as Theo steered you towards the house. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that…”

“Sì, Auntie Gi, I told you not to go overboard with this!” Theo groaned, and she shushed him with a wave of her hand. 

“Yes, yes, you did. But we decided otherwise. Your girl deserves a full Italian Christmas and she’s going to get one!” A blush covered your cheeks, you could feel it rage even hotter the moment you stepped over the threshold and into the warmed house. As you did, an elderly elf wearing a pink knitted hat, a floral apron and one sock appeared, holding out her hands. 

“Cappotto!” She demanded, snapping her fingers, and Theo shrugged off his coat quickly and handed it to her. You followed suit, and she left with a soft huff and a pop. 

“That is Miffy. She runs the rest of the elves here with an iron rod. She put on her special occasion sock for you.”

“One sock?”

“Yes, she’s very particular about it. Says wearing two socks makes her too warm.” He rolled his eyes, hefting your bag higher up on his shoulder. 

“Sounds like you with your leg sticking out of the covers every night.”

“Did you just compare me to a house elf?” He gaped, and you shrugged, grinning at him over your shoulder as you followed the rest of his family further into the house. You were guided past several open rooms, before arriving in a large, open-plan sitting room. 

Some of his family were already gathered around, sipping from mugs of tea and coffee, a table laid out with breakfast pastries and food piled high. A group of young children were sitting around the tree and poking at the piles of gifts stacked there. Beside them, sat an older lady, enchanted knitting needles surrounding her as she used the set in her hands to knit far slower into a more interesting design. As one little finger tugged on a bow, she raised her brow and poked the giggling toddler lightly with one of her needles. 

“That’s Nonna?” You whispered as Theo came to your side, and he placed your bag down beside the closest table, nodding his head. 

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone else, but I want you to officially meet her first.”

His hand pressed on your lower back, guiding you across the room, and as you got close, the knitting needles, floating on command, all slowed to a stop. She lowered the ones in her hands to her lap, her gaze running over you as appraised you, and your hands locked nervously in front of your body, fiddling with your fingers. 

“Nonna, this is my girlfriend.”

“Well, obviously, Theodore.” She drawled, shaking her head at him, and he bit back a smile. Her attention shifted back to you, and she smiled at you. Holding up her knitting, she proffered the half-finished square pattern. “This colour, do you like it? And no flattery, I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.”

A laugh escaped you, and you nodded, pinching the soft fabric between two fingers. “It’s a nice shade of purple. My second favourite, even.”

“Second favourite?”

“I like a lighter purple too.” She hummed, snapping her fingers and a basket of other wools floated over to you both from the corner. She rooted through it, before producing a lavender shade, “Like this?”

“Exactly like that.”

“Good choice. I like it too.” She added it to her current pile of wool to use. “My Theodore tells me you are a smart and kind girl. He speaks very highly of you.”

She patted the chair beside her, and you sat down in it, turning to face her, “I hope he’s not set the bar too high about me.” 

“No, he set it just right. He deserves someone good, my grandson. He deserves the best.”

“I know.” You whispered, and Theo scuffed his feet against the floor. 

“Nonna…”

“Go, Theodore. Get breakfast, you must eat.” She waved him away, and after lingering for only a moment longer, he did as told, leaving the two of you alone. “He loves you very much.”

“I love him too.” Your words rushed from you, assuring her of as much, and she patted your hand with a fond expression.

“You’ll make sure he’s happy.”

“I promise, I’ll—”

“It was not a question. You will make him happy. You already do.” She confirmed, and your lips pressed together, chin wobbling a little as you nodded. It was a promise, all you needed to say, and she squeezed your hand reassuringly as she understood it. “He was sad for a long time, but you make him smile.”

With that, Theo was returning, perching himself on the arm of the chair you were sitting on and passing you a plate that was stacked high. On it were all of your breakfast favourites from the spread, everything you would’ve picked for yourself as well as his preferences, and he dropped a kiss on the top of your head. 

“So,” He directed his raised voice to the rest of the room, glancing out across his family, “What busy schedule have you all conjured up for us, then?”

As you ate the breakfast provided, his family excitedly told you all of the plans they had for the day. You also made it through introductions, doing your best to commit the names and faces of every enthusiastic family member to your memory. You were just finishing up a conversation with his youngest uncle when Miffy appeared once again, informing you all with a bossy kind of voice that in order to stay on schedule, it was time to leave. 

Several elves appeared, laden down with coats, hats and scarves as they handed them out, and the room jumped into action. Tugging you up from the chair, Theo helped you into your coat, before wrapping a spare scarf around your neck, and leaving a kiss on your cheek before bundling himself up too. The movement of the family was dizzying, and you simply opted to follow along, until you were being ushered through the large floo in the family room fireplace, hand clasped in Theo’s as his voice wrapped in perfect Italian around your first location. 

A tug behind your navel, a flash of blinding green fire, and you were stepping out into the cold of a busy and bustling street. 

The first stop of the day was the Italian street markets. You’d encountered similar, and at first glance, it all felt so very much like home. You’d spent many a Christmas wandering the wooden huts of the Trafalgar Square Christmas Markets back in London, and a grin crawled onto your face at the comfort of it.  

Then, a loud screeching sounded just to your right, melting away into coordinated music as a walking band of bagpipe players passed you by, and Theo laughed in your ear by your side as you clutched a hand to your chest. 

“It’s not funny, Nott! That scared the lights out of me!”

“It was kinda’ funny. You should’ve seen your face. You were all awestruck and starry-eyed and then you looked like that time Draco jumped out at you with those plastic Muggle fangs in his mouth on Hallows Eve.” He clutched his stomach in contrast, head tipping back with laughter, and you nudged him in the ribs, even as his amusement brought a smile to your own lips. 

“I’ll implore you to remember what happened to Draco when he laughed at me.” Your threat was only met with a smirk and hooded eyes as he tipped his head back down, tempering his laughter.

“Oh, but you wouldn't hex your boyfriend at Christmas, would you?” His lips brushed yours as he tipped your chin up. “You don’t want this lovely face disfigured, do you? You’re the one who has to kiss it.”

“Cut it out.” You whispered, blushing, as he pecked the edge of your mouth, “This is a family event.”

“I’m aware.” He murmured, sealing it with a chaste kiss to your lips and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Alright, there’s lots I want to show you and definitely not enough time for it all. Where do you want to start?”

“You tell me.”

“Let’s go.” He beamed, guiding you after his family as the group began to move, idling to the left and in trail of the procession of bagpipe players that had gone on ahead.

You wandered from stall to stall, looking at crafts and ornaments ad freshly made goods. There was a certain kind of cheerful energy in the air that only came around at Christmastime, and you soaked up very second of festive cheer that you could. 

Theo plied you with treats at every opportunity, and his pockets started to become laden down with purchases neither of you needed, until he bought a hand-stitched bag at one stall and slung it over his shoulder just to carry everything the pair of you had been purchasing. 

Slowly, the group split off, members of the family forming smaller groups to go off to each of their own activities and interests. As you continued exploring, you passed by what appeared to be a nativity scene, set up full-size, behind fences with small sheep and animals wandering around inside. 

“This is lovely.” You turned to Theo, and he smiled at your words. 

“This is the village Presepe.”

“Presepe?” You echoed, “I thought it was a Nativity scene.”

“A Presepe is a nativity scene, really. It’s the tradition to build one in the home, it’s important, it reminds us of the Christmas story. In my family, we dedicate a whole evening to building one. Ours is in the library, we like it to be somewhere quiet where we can reflect on and admire it.” You wrapped your arms around on of his, leaning your cheek on his shoulder, and his head rested on top of yours. “But, I also used to have a small one in my dorm at Hogwarts. You’ve seen it.”

“I never knew what it was, though. I mean, I didn’t know it meant so much, I thought it was just your general Christmas decorations.”

“It is, technically—”’

“No,” You cut him off, “It’s more important than that. I’ll remember for next year.”

He smiled at that, and the pair of you took a few more minutes to admire the scene, before moving on. Hours seemed to pass by as the two of you slipped into your own little world, soaking up all of the time you had together and huddling close in the cold, wintery air. 

You wouldn't trade these times for the world. As doting as Theo was, as loving and devoted, these times when the two of you were alone and you were reminded. Reminded, that he wasn’t just someone you were attracted to or loved, but that he was also your best friend in every way, someone you could confide in and trust and rely on. 

He was your whole world, and spending time with him, in a place that was his whole world, meant all the more to you. Something you were sure you wouldn't be able to express with words, so you indulged his every whim instead, and committed it all to memory. 

You were still stuffed up from the fresh struffoli Theo had offered to you not long ago, feeding you bites from the shared tray before he’d ordered you another one. Unlike him, who seemed to eat endlessly and always still be hungry, you didn’t possess such a talent, and you were ready for a drink to wash it down, when he turned to you with a handful of more sweet treats. 

“Try this, bella.”

“Just a bite.” You sighed, unable to say no to the adorable look on his face as he brought over what looked like a piece of fruitcake. 

“Just a bite? Don’t be silly. You need more than one bite to appreciate this panettone.” He lifted it to your lips, and you parted them, his eyes sparkling as he watched you take a bite. He followed soon after, crumbs dropping to the floor between you both as he finished off the slice in a single mouthful. His cheeks puffed up like a hamster, and you raised your eyebrows as you chewed slowly, savouring the delicious treat. “What? You said you just wanted a bite!”

Your lips pressed further together and your hand covered your mouth to muffle a laugh as he spat crumbs everywhere while speaking. His cheeks turned red, and he shook his head fondly as he attempted to finished the excessive amount of food in his mouth. 

“Careful, you two.” His cousin Maria grinned as she passed by, clapping Theo on the back as he choked down the treat. “Don’t eat too much, or you’ll ruin your appetite for the Feast later.”

“We’ll be fine, we’re indulging.” Theo scoffed, patting his stomach. “Tanto spazio, non preoccuparti.” 

Your brows furrowed as Maria tipped her head back and laughter, Theo preening with pride at amusing his cousin as he joined her. As she ambled on ahead, still chatting to Theo in Italian, you took the time to admire one of the intricate craft stalls opposite the bakery stand. 

Picking up a small glass trinket, you hung the bauble from your finger, watching the glittery item twirl before you and reflect the stark winter daylight in beautiful colours. “How much?” You asked, smiling at the vendor, who rubbed his chin. 

“Ti piace?”

Your lips parted but no words came out, as you realised for the first time that without Theo, you were a little lost. Tapping it with your finger, you floundered for words, feeling more than ignorant and beyond embarrassed at your inability for simple communication for the first time today. It struck you, with a startling shock, that his family had been making the effort to speak to you in English, and you’d taken it for granted. 

Swallowing back the clog of emotion in your throat, you coughed lightly, putting it down and pulling out your purse. Opening it up to the Muggle notes of Italian cash that you’d converted before leaving London, you offered him a handful. The vendor chuckled, taking the money from you and counting out just two of the notes, before passing the rest back. “Inglese? English?” He prompted, and you nodded, feeling the odd urge to apologise as he counted out coins and gave you a handful of those as change too. 

“Yes. Uhm, sí.” You fumbled, cursing internally for how clumsy you sounded, but the older man merely smiled at you. 

“Have a good day.” He spoke slowly, and it pained you not to be able to even return the simple kindness. Instead, you pointed at him. 

“E tu.” There were a few small words here and there that you’d picked up from Theo over the years, and you could only hope you’d said something that made sense. By the look on his face, you’d at least managed to do that correctly. Pocketing your purse and your change, the man handed you your carefully wrapped ornament, and cheerfully gave you a goodbye as you stepped away, searching for Theo in the crowds. 

He wasn’t far ahead, talking to his Nonna but his eyes were on you, and his face broke into a smile as your eyes met. Your mood seemed to thaw again at the sight of him, your heart warming the inside of your chest and spreading the feeling out through your body as you walked back to his side. 

He held out his hand, and you took it, lacing your gloved fingers through his as he tugged you closer. “Nonna was just suggesting we go to the Tombola. It’s cold out here, and we can go inside and warm up. What do you think?”

“I think that sounds fun… what is it?”

Nonna chuckled, patting your arm. “You have heard of bingo, sí?”

“Oh, yes!” You cheered, and she clicked her fingers. 

“Ah, it is like bingo. You will enjoy, my dear. Come, come.” She offered you her arm, and you accepted it eagerly, letting her slowly guide the three of you through the town centre you’d been circling for the last couple of hours, to the Town Hall sitting squarely in the middle. 

She was right, it was much warmer inside, and you queued up with the few members of the Nott family that had come to join to check your coats. You tucked your scarf and gloves into your pockets hastily, handing the bundle over to the woman and letting Theo do the talking as he gave his name and took his tag. 

You were rubbing your cooled hands together when he took one in his own, threading your hands together and squeezing happily as you joined the crowded hall filled with people. Finding a place to sit, you all hemmed yourselves in around the table, swiping up sheets and markers before the next round began. Theo leaned over to get a peek at your card, and you pressed it to your chest, causing him to pull back, surprised.

“Let me see.”

“No! Get your own, this is my card!” You held it tighter to your chest as he tried to steal it from you, his jaw dropping. 

“You want to be on separate teams? I can’t believe this.” He feigned heartbreak, head hanging, and you giggled at his dramatics. Dipping down and into his eye-line, he stuck his bottom lip out in an exaggerated put. “I can’t believe you’re abandoning me like this, and here I thought you loved me! Oh, il dolore…”

“Oh, hush your whinging. Two teams means double the chance to win prizes.”

His lip slipped back into place, his eyebrows crawling up his forehead, and then his face broke with amusement. “My cunning little snake, I’m rubbing off on you. I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

“What, just the one reason?”

“Well, I could start to list them all,” He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear, “But I’m afraid we would run out of time.”

Taking his jaw in your hand, you smacked a kiss onto his cheek, his face scrunching up happily. “Ti amo, Theo.”

“I love you too, bella.” He reached across the table, swiping up a card and his own marker. Pulling your chair closer to his, he stretched his arm along the back of your seat and pressed you into his side. 

“Hey, Theo?” You felt his responding hum against the top of your head as his fingers wove into your hair, rubbing lightly. “What’s ‘the Feast’ later?”

He pulled back enough to be able to see you, twisting strands of hair around his fingers. “Oh, the Feast of Seven Fishes. It’s a special meal at Christmas.”

“Oh, like Christmas dinner!” He dipped his chin in a nod, and you took the information on board, “You don’t do Christmas dinner, then?”

“‘Course we do.” He chuckled at you, “But, on Christmas Day. It’s Christmas Eve, so this is a Christmas Eve tradition.”

You knew inside Theo didn’t intend to make you feel at a disadvantage with the way he said it, but that didn’t stop you feeling that way. Once again, another small thing made you feel like you were inexperienced and behind the rest. At your lack of response, Theo tilted his head, his eyes searching your own. You distracted him with a kiss to his cheek, facing yourself back to the front of the room as a little old lady took the stage, bringing attention to the game that was just beginning.

Taking back your coat, Theo untangled himself from you to begin fastening one of his baby cousins into her coat. Yours was handed back to you, and you smiled appreciatively at the woman behind the desk. Taking your scarf out and wrapping it around your neck, you shrugged on your coat. Buttoning it up for warmth, at last, you patted your pockets down for your gloves as you made your way over to Theo and the group. 

Both pockets came up empty, and you shoved your hands inside, rooting into the empty spaces to confirm. At some point, your gloves must’ve fallen out, but between the crowds gathering around the coatcheck desk and your lack of ability to communicate, you decided against making a bumbling effort to retrieve them. Writing them off, you left your hands curled up in your pockets as your boyfriend’s hand found your lower back, guiding you outside. 

As you listened, he promised his family that the pair of you would reunite with them soon, you’d meet them at the pub floo you’d all entered through, but apparently, you had one more thing to do. At your raised brow, Theo quickly guided you towards the edges of the markets, where a small group was beginning to form, gathered around… nothing, you could see, as you got closer.

“It’s almost time to go home.” Theo offered, and you nodded, silently relieved as your freezing hands clenched inside your pockets, joints aching from the cold exposure. “Just one more thing I want us to do. Do you have your wand on you?”

Your head snapped up, noticing the smaller group you’d been assembled into on the edges of the town, and realising they all had their wands out too. “I-I don’t. I left it in my bag at yours, I didn’t know I would need it—”

“It’s okay, you can share mine.” He soothed, and he placed the smooth Hawthorn wand into your palm, his hand wrapping around your own and his back pressing to your chest. His other arm snaked around your middle, his chin propped on your shoulder. Only moments later, you were once again left steeped in confusion as he began to swirl your joined hands in the execution of a spell you didn’t know, reciting the charmed Italian with words you did not know, to cast an enchantment that you did not know. 

The scene before you was breathtaking, swirls of coloured mist and sparks from all the group gathered around, bundling into a soft ball of light in the centre of the group, growing from a mere sparkling pinprick to something the size of a golfball, spinning with every addition of magic and power. When the group chanting ended, the small ball pressed itself smaller and smaller, before zooming off into the sky and disappearing into the grey clouds in a blink. 

“Wow…” You murmured, turning to Theo, “What was—”

His lips pressed to yours firmly, his arms around you keeping you close as he placed a single, heavy kiss onto our mouth. “That, was an ancient tradition. Wizarding world special. Instead of mistletoe, you cast a spell with the person you love in a pledge for a happy and joyful Christmas. My mum used to bring me when I was a kid, and I… I wanted to bring you.”

“Oh, Teddy…” Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in until your eyes could flutter closed and your forehead was pressed to his. “That is so sweet. I’ve never heard of such a tradition before.”

“I’m not surprised.” He huffed to himself bemusedly, trapped in a joke only he understood. “Come on, let's get your home, your hands are freezing. Where are your gloves?”

“Think I lost them along the way somewhere.” You deflected, and he shrugged. The rest of his family were beginning to round up too, and none too soon, you were all piling once again back into a floo to Nott Manor. Unloading your coat to another excitable but demanding house elf, you guided yourself back through to the living room where the fires were still roaring. The youngest of the children sprinted past you, and you leaned down to gather your bag in the meantime. 

In the background, you could hear Theo’s family chatting away, laughter and love filling the halls in a way that was so homely and comforting, and you guided yourself over to the Christmas tree already stacked high with presents underneath, spilling out in mountains from beneath. 

Sinking to your knees, you opened up your bag, diving elbow-deep into the extended insides and beginning to pull out the few, carefully wrapped presents you’d brought with you. In the dining room, you could hear glasses clinking and corks popping, as preparations for the Feast you’d only just learned about took place.  

That clawing, suffocating sense of embarrassment was back as you let slip a sigh, running a finger over the wrapping paper covered in small Santa hats that you’d used to wrap the gifts for the younger children. It felt so out of place now, utterly ridiculous, as you remembered hearing so many children running around the markets talking about La Befana, before eventually needing Theo to explain. You contemplated whether it was too late to find some other kind of paper and rewrap them.

With a shake of your head, your resolve weakened, fingers trembling as you picked at the red ribbon wrapped around it. “What’s wrong, amore?”

Theo startled you from being so lost in your thoughts, and you whipped around to see him standing over you, a concerned look on his face. At your hesitation, he lowered himself down to sit crosslegged before you.

“Nothing, baby. I’m all good, just putting a few presents under your tree.”

He watched you place the final gift on the small stack you’d added, before taking your hand in his, his thumb tracing your knuckles. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve gone all quiet.” He whispered, “What’s wrong, are you homesick?”

“No, not at all. I’m having a wonderful time.” You reassured him, squeezing his hand in your own. 

“But you’re sad.”

“No, I’m not—” He gave you a look, one you were familiar with after a year together, pressing you for the truth and you caved faster than you’d have liked. Your voice cracked as you spoke quietly once again, “I feel like an idiot, Theo.”

“What are you talking about, bella? Why would you feel that way, I don’t understand?”

“I should’ve been more prepared. I’ve come to spend Christmas with your family, and you’ve all been so kind all day, and spoken my language because I don’t even know yours! I have been so behind at every step with your traditions and customs, I feel so selfish because I should’ve done more research into today, so that I could share it with you properly, but I didn’t!” Your eyes stung, and you tore your gaze away from his, “I’m sorry, Teddy.”

Theo cupped your cheek, a sad sound escaping him as he pressed kisses all over the side of your face you allowed him access to, as he tried to coax you to face him once again. “Listen to me, amore. Please? I didn’t expect you to know anything at all, you were here to learn, that was the whole point! I’ve had so much fun teaching you. I got to share everything with you and relive the magic of it by re-experiencing it all with you of the first time.”

His words did their job, easing some of the discomfort you’d been feeling, and you finally gave in, looking back up to him as he smiled, bumping his nose with your own lovingly. 

“As for the English, in my family, we’re taught English alongside Italian since we started learning to talk at all. We all go to Hogwarts, and some of my family spend more of the year in London or Paris or other places than here at all, meaning Italian isn’t even our main language even if it is our first. It’s not something to stress about, I swear.” He gave you a quick but reassuring kiss, rubbing his thumb across your cheek as you smiled. “But if you want to learn Italian, I’ll teach you. I’d love to, but I never wanted you to feel forced to.”

“I’d like that.” You whispered, stealing a kiss too, and a little of that light came back to his face as you did. 

“You know, I didn’t really know anything about English Christmas traditions until I started Hogwarts. Don’t you remember? You all had to teach me in first year.”

You cast your mind back, trying to remember the fuzzy memories of your friends from so long ago. “You caught on quick.”

“I’m a fast learner.” Theo teased playfully. “Please don’t let yourself feel down, because this day has been perfect for me, and I want you to remember it that way too.”

Your shoulders sagged, leaning into his hug, and you tried your best to let the last of your worries slip away. Theo’s hands rubbed up and down your back, and you melted a little more into his embrace. 

“Ahem.” Theo’s uncle Marco coughed dramatically, and Theo groaned in your ear as he twisted his head on your shoulder to look at him. 

“What? Can’t you see we’re having a moment here? Vaffanculo.”

“Now, now, Theo. What would Nonna say if I told her what you just said?” He grinned, and Theo lifted a hand to make a gesture you didn’t allow, clasping his hand and lowering it back down. His uncle smirked, putting his hands on his hips, “Sorry to interrupt your moment, but it’s time to eat.”

He left before Theo could respond, and you clambered to your feet, brushing yourself off and offering him your hands. He took them, letting you pull him to his feet before he was checking in on you one more time, and seeing something that must’ve reassured him, taking you through to the dining room for dinner. 

“Can you tell me about Snata?” One of the toddlers, Romeo, asked. He climbed up beside you and Theo on the couch, uncaring of the meal you’d just stuffed yourselves with as he climbed over Theo, stepping on his stomach before sitting himself in your lap. Looking up at you expectantly, the three-year-old frowned at your stunned expression. “Satna.” He demanded, leaning in closer. 

“It’s Santa, idiota.” Another small voice chimed in.

“Hey!” Theo scooped up the other boy, Aldo, and folded him into his arms tightly, shaking his head as the young boy squirmed in the hug and pushed a sticky hand against Theo’s jaw. “That’s not nice, you don’t call people that. Do you want La Befana to bring you presents tonight?”

“Sí.” He grumbled out with added an apology to his brother, and Theo nodded, ruffling his hair as the boy turned to look at you from his perch in his cousin’s lap. He stuck his thumb into his mouth, and leaned to rest his head on Theo’s chest as he prepared to listen. Another little hand landed on you arm, and you found Adriana, their sister, has settled herself in beside you. 

“You want to know about Santa too?” You asked, and she nodded her head. You twisted to Theo, “Did you set this up?”

“Nope, this is all them.” He smiled, stretching his arm out along the back of the couch. “Maybe you still have some things to teach us after all.”

So, you settled in, with three small children which soon became four, then five, as you told them all the story of Santa Claus. They were particularly fond of the reindeers, although they weren’t sold on Rudolph, insisting that he must be very, very poorly if his nose is that red. You skirted carefully around the edges of their questions, trying hard not to ruin anything for them or encroach onto territory that might get them thinking a little too deeply and unravel their belief. Instead, you kept the magic alive, by spinning a tale instead of how Santa and La Befana work together to make sure all the children across the world get presents for Christmas Day.

Regardless, the children had taken to the story with wide-eyed excitement and enthusiasm you thought couldn't be conquered. That was, until they smelled hot chocolate in the air. Immediately leaping off of the couch with a new set of interests, they no longer cared to hear about who might bring presents tomorrow, but instead, who might have a treat right now. 

You followed after them, back to the dining room where the table was now laid with teapots, coffees and small treats to enjoy for dessert. In the corner, Allessandra was handing out mugs of hot chocolate to the children, and Theo pressed a kiss to the side of your head as he came back to your side. He pressed a warm mug into your hands, and the smell drifted up to your nose, making you groan happily. Looking down, your suspicions were confirmed. 

“Theo, what’s all this?” You brought the glass up, sniffling the fruity concoction, and he shrugged. 

“This is a little piece of home for you, bella. I want you to be one hundred percent happy here. Your happiness is important to me, don’t you know that? You should’ve told you the moment you felt down, so that I could fix it. I hate seeing you upset.”

“I’m never upset when I’m with you. I just felt a little out of place, but I’m fine now.” You promised, and he seemed to believe you this time, you could see it in his eyes as he nodded. 

Lifting the mug to your face, you blew slowly onto the steam rising up from it, and then you heard a cry; “Why is my favourite wine steaming?”

“Uncle Gio, just try it!” Theo insisted, nodding his head less than subtly in your direction, assuming you couldn't see him out of the corner of your eye. “It was my idea, and it happens to be… very nice.” 

“It’s something I love, from home.” You interfered, ruling out Theo’s less than convincing attempt to persuade his family. Even as your cheeks heated when several sets of eyes fell on you, you didn’t feel rejected by them, just feeling their intrigue. “It really is good, I promise! It’s just not to everybody’s tastes.”

You nudged your hip against Theo’s who smirked as his shoulders rose and fell. After a lingering moment, his uncle caved and served himself a glass, his other relatives following suit. Soon, several murmured compliments to it were passing around the room, and you grinned up at Theo who was adamantly ignoring your attention. 

“Well, well, well. Would you look at that? Your family likes it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, clearly they all hate it, and—”

“Hate what?” His cousin Lucia interrupted, Aria close behind. “This is a surprisingly nice way to enjoy wine,” She offered to you, “It’s better than spiking the coffee and getting shouted at by Nonna when you want a tipsy hot drink, that’s for sure.”

Theo rolled his eyes petulantly, and she tipped her head. “You disagree, Theo?”

“Oh, Theo hates my love for mulled wine. He won’t even kiss me after I’ve had any.” You joked, clutching the glass in your hand and letting the warmth seep through the porcelain and into your cold palms.

His aunts laughed, cooing over his frown as they all clutched their own glasses, enjoying the concoction he hated so abhorrently. Theo’s arm snaked around your middle, pulling you back against him. “Now, that’s just a little lie, isn’t it?”

His family grinned at him, turning away into their own conversation as he guided you away for a little more privacy. Tucking you away with himself into an empty corridor, the two of you made your way slowly through his home, to a little porch swing on the back terrace, looking out across snowy and frost covered grounds.

You settled in, tucking yourself under a blanket and covering his lap with it too, as his arm stretched out along the back, behind your body. “Now, how about those kisses, hm?”

“Are you sure you want to? I mean, I have been drinking this mulled—” Theo scoffed, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger before sealing his mouth over your own, effectively silencing you. His tongue traced a seam underneath your lip, licking away any remnants of the mulled wine and begging entry into your mouth. 

You gave way, lips parting, the sweet and fruity taste of your drink mixing with the sugars of cookies still lingering on his tongue, and you groaned softly at the taste of him. His arm slipped down from the back of the bench to slide around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. Tilting his head to the side, Theo’s other hand slipped up your cheek, holding you so tenderly, and you shivered at the feeling of his cold fingers on your skin. 

He pulled away, just to dive back in, dotting a series of kisses to your lips, each one you pressed into, returned with a smile or a giggle, until you finished, with your forehead pressed to his. Eyes closed and noses bumping, Theo sighed. His hand slipped down, over your neck and shoulder, to find your hand atop the blanket, and take it in his own. 

“Listen, it’s not too late, maybe you could still get in touch with your family?”

“Theo,” You murmured, words sticking in your throat as you held them back. 

“We could use my floo, we can call them and ask if you could stay, or maybe compromise, or something?”

“Teddy.” You pressed your free hand to his chest, right over his heart, and he deflated a little under your touch. He’d tried already, he’d been trying for weeks now to convince you to stay with him for the whole of the holidays, and he lifted his head, eyes shining a little as he pouted. A small bubble rose inside you, made of happiness and thrill and the lingering excitement of a surprise you weren’t ready to share yet. “Let’s just enjoy this moment for now, stop thinking about when it will end and just be here with me.”

He relented to your point, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, cuddled up together under the blanket with his hand in your hair. He pressed the occasional kiss to your forehead, using his foot to rock the swing back and forth slowly, sharing the glass of mulled wine between you both despite his supposed hatred for it. When it was empty, he left the glass balanced on the small side table, and took advantage of your new freedom of hands for more clingy cuddling. 

Time disappeared around you both, until the clock inside the house began to chime, it's muffled tones making their way through the walls to you both outside, and you felt him stiffen underneath you. 

“Do you really have to leave, already?” Theo whispered, as the clock behind you signalled the turn of the hour. His arms tightened around you a little more, his face pressing further into you, and you cuddled him back just as tightly. “What’s it going to take to convince you to stay?”

“You could kiss me again.” You bargained, and his lips flickered at the edges as he lowered his head, catching your mouth with his own in a tender kiss. 

His lips dragged across yours sadly, desperately, too reluctant to part for even a breath because it would give you time to say you were leaving now, and he shifted himself. Using his weight to press you back into the edge of the swing, he made not-so-subtle attempts to keep you trapped, to stop you from leaving too soon. 

At last, when the need for air became too much, he pulled back with a dismayed breath, and nudged his nose against yours. “I wish you’d stay. I hate saying goodbye.”

Wrapping an arm around his neck, you settled your other hand on his cheek, his eyes closing as he tipped his face further into your touch. Your thumb stroked across his skin, a slow sweep that he timed his exhale with, and a smile twitched on your face. “Ask me again.”

“Please stay.” He whispered, words hollow as he spoke them, and you lifted your head to peck his lips. 

“Okay, Theo.”

His eyes snapped open, a confused expression twisting his face, and you failed to bite back your smile. “What?”

“I’ll stay. If you really want me to.”

“If I really— I thought your family wanted you to stay at home?” He questioned breathlessly, sitting back to get a better look at you. 

“They did.” You shrugged, smoothing down your messy hair from the cuddle session you’d been entangled in. “But you’re my family too, and you want me here, so I chose you.”

His jaw dropped, a shaky breath slipping free, and his chin wobbled as he leaned in to press a series of needy and erratic kisses to your lips. “You’re really staying with me for Christmas?” His voice cracked, and he pulled you closer to him, tightening the blanket around you both as he moved until you were practically lay against his chest.

“If you still want me to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He muttered, tapping the tip of your nose, and staring at you with sparkling eyes. “Ti amo, mia bellissima ragazza.”

“I love you too, Teddy. Happy Christmas.”

“È un contento Natale adesso.”

　𝓶𝔂 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ this isn’t a self-help guide. i’m not your guru and this isn’t a powerpoint on gratitude. this is just me. sitting on the floor. i’m not here to raise your vibration. i’m here to ask why you think you need raising in the first place. i'm here because i’ve been hoarding revelations like they're concert wristbands. i'm here because reality is porous and i’ve got the straws. no, literally, i’ve sucked on time’s milkshake and found it lukewarm. we can do better.

you will not find steps here. there is no staircase. i burned it. we fly now.

　"how to"s . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to manifest.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to get what you want without affirmations.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀where is the stuff i manifested?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀i have it, i have it, i have it, so where is it?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀become the laziest manifestor.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀manifest anything in hours, minutes, and even seconds.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀banish resistance.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to stop looking at the 3d for results.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to manifest the future.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀manifesting faq.

　thesis's & concepts . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀energy and matter cannot be destroyed or created.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀barbie doll theory of self-concept.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀do less than nothing , get more than everything.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀i said what i said (and then it happened)

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀think it, know it, live it.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀hoping or remembering?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀manifestation and the eroticism of longing.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀what's meant for me will find me.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀screw trying.

　doubts & negatives . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀adrift on a sea of self-inflicted delays.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀it didn't work before, why would it now?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀the hardest pill to swallow.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀" there is no new information on tumblr "

　interactives . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀the manifesting seance club.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀pick a card and find out about your manifesting journey.