Heyyyyyyy you’re one of my favorite writers on here. I love the way you portray the characters so well, I consume your fics like a feral animal and they are my salvation. Was hoping you could maybe do a poly rosewaterkiller (Barty, Evan, Regulus) about decorating for the holidays or spending the holidays together or something. I struggle with the holidays and I feel like they would too because of family trauma, but I feel like in the relationship they would learn to enjoy them together now that they are safe? Maybe just me? If you don’t have time or don’t want to that’s okay too. All my love :)
hey lovie! thanks so much for your request <3 I had a vision for this and now that it's written I'm not sure I've hit the mark, exactly. I'm sorry if my vision didn't translate well, but hope it was close to what you were looking for <3 <3
also, the holiday wasn't specified...so I went with Christmas
poly!rosewaterkiller x fem!reader who wants to do Christmas [1.3k words]
CW: Christmas fic, brief reference to the Black Family home, suggested negligent/aggressive parenting, bad memories from childhood, but the rest of the fic is mostly fluffy I think
Regulus supposed he really shouldn’t be surprised.
It had started when the four of you had gone to his brother’s for dinner; the four Gryffindor’s having completely transformed their home into what Regulus felt could be described as nothing short of a winter wonderland for the holidays. Everywhere one looked could you spot a christmas tree, candy cane, snowglobe or twinkling lights.
Regulus isn’t sure if the other two noticed, but he couldn’t help but watch the cautious, almost nervous enthusiasm in your face as you took in all of the sights; the twinkling lights drawing you towards them like a Christmasy moth to a flame as they reflected in your glassy eyes.
You’d been quiet for a few days following that dinner; chewing on your lip as your eyes danced across your walls, the windows, tables, and even along the furniture as though something was missing.
Bloody hell, you’d even told them beforehand.
“I want to do Christmas.” You announced; standing in front of the TV with your arms crossed as you stared at your three boys - Regulus and Barty sharing the loveseat whilst Evan occupied one of the chairs.
“Well that’s good, doll. Pretty sure it’s coming whether you wanted it to or not, though.” Evan commented before he turned back to his book.
You let out a small sound of frustration as you tried again. “No, I…I want to do Christmas here, I want… I want a tree and lights and decorations, and… stuff…”
Regulus felt something akin to guilt for the way your voice trailed off at the end of your sentence, suddenly sounding so small as if you were afraid they were about to laugh at you.
Thankfully, no one commented on it.
“Okay.” Barty agreed carefully. “That should be fine, I think? We can do Christmas here if you’d like.”
You chewed on your bottom lip before offering them a curt nod and all but fleeing the room again, and Regulus figured now - in hindsight - it was rather silly of him to assume that would be the end of it.
He didn’t, however, expect to be interrupted from his reading the very next day to the sound of you bursting through the front door with your arms full of bags and boxes and a look of pure determination as you did so.
“Jesus, amour; why didn’t you ask for help?” He chided as he made to stand, ultimately disturbing Barty from where he’d been napping in his lap as Evan appeared from down the hall.
“This was just trip one.” You let out with a huff as you let your parcels fall to the ground unceremoniously; Barty grimacing at what sounded like glass clinking together as it hit the floor.
“Out of how many?” Evan asked slowly, furrowing his brows as he took in the sight.
You shrugged. “Depends on how quickly you boys get your boots on to help me bring in the tree.”
“You heard the lady.” Barty announced as he quickly reached for his jacket. “We’ve been put to work, boys.”
Regulus waited until you had left the entryway to return to your car to comment on it, watching Barty as he all but hopped out the front door as he tried following you whilst still tying his boot. “Should we be worried?”
Evan’s movements slowed as he wrapped his scarf around his neck; eyes far away as he considered Regulus’ question and how to respond to it.
“I don’t think decorating could hurt.” He offered noncommittally.
They were interrupted by a loud ‘oof’ followed by a ‘Barty!’ to see Barty on his arse having slipped in the snow and ice.
“I think that might be record timing for Barty once again proving us wrong.”
Evan grumbled something that sounded like “the stupid fucking sod” that had Regulus mentally filling in the unspoken “he’s so lucky I love him so god damn much.”
It had taken the four of you three more trips to get everything in the house. More than a few curse words were spewed when it looked for a moment like the tree might not make it through the front door, which saw Barty threatening to send it through the kitchen window.
“Poppet?” Evan asked breathlessly as the group of you looked at the tree; slightly worse for wear now - having been shoved and yanked through a narrow doorway - as it leaned in the corner of the room, supported by two walls.
“Yeah?”
“Did you get a stand for it, too?”
The sound of a frustrated, tearful exhale had the three boys shushing you and assuring you it was fine; you’d nearly sobbed at the thought of having to go back to the shops, but the offer from the boys to go on your behalf actually saw tears lining your eyes.
No matter, the tree looked kind of sweet propped up in the corner of the room.
…and Evan also shot Barty and Regulus a look that translated to “I’ll pick one up tomorrow.”
Barty broke seven baubles before he was barred from helping decorate the tree and demoted to hanging up various strings of lights throughout the flat. He knocked over two picture frames (smashing the second) which then saw him demoted to making hot cocoa.
He broke a mug.
By the time he made it back to the living room with four mugs of cocoa - three in Christmas themed mugs and one that was simply the shape of a narwhal - the tree (standing propped up against the wall) was covered in warm lights, multicoloured baubles, and silver angel hair. Evan had taken over the task of stringing lights throughout the flat which bathed the space in a warm, cosy glow.
“It looks-” Barty started, though Evan interrupted him.
“Awful.”
“I love it.” You proclaimed; your hands folded underneath your chin as you smiled at the hastily, not at all planned out tree that would have been so unlike anything any of you experienced growing up.
Any decorations at Grimmauld place were not for the benefit of cosy ambience or childlike joy, but rather prestige and status. His parents had to have most perfectly curated decorations to impress their guests, and he and Sirius never had anything to do with it. Oftentimes they’d be woken to the sound of decorators and personnel banging about their home, coming downstairs to find a christmas tree already set up that they knew they’d be getting a swipe up the back of the head at best should they so much as sneeze too close to it.
This meant that Regulus never understood some people’s excitement or joy at the sight of decorations popping up mid November throughout the city, when shops would start playing holiday music or cafes strung fairy lights in their windows.
Christmas was, as Evan had suggested, something that simply happened.
You woke up one morning to a Christmas tree raised and decorated in your living room. You woke up one morning and your local coffee shop had little snowmen painted on their windows.
But as Regulus watched Evan smirk before putting down his Grinch mug of cocoa and pull you into his side to press a kiss to the crown of your head, and as he looked over at Barty who was smiling at the small hurricane jar you had placed the glass from the broken bauble’s Barty had accumulated, Regulus wondered if maybe - finally - Christmas might not be something that just happens.
