#I am trying to get some writing done while the wife gets up Christmas decorations and whew it is hard

[anthrofreshtodeath]

CMWHS Snippet #3

Mad Maura and first kiss tingz. I can do about one of these snippets a week until I post, because why not? 😂 I'm all about taking a scene from canon and tweaking it just a bit to really bring out that tension.

Maura looks up, and Jane tells her knees to get a fucking grip. Maura’s highlighted hair falls perfectly around her face, the skin of her shoulders pops seductively under her sleeveless gray dress, and her green eyes are so, so pained. “Hey,” says Jane.

Maura frowns when she realizes that it is Jane standing there, in the flesh. She reminds herself that she does not believe in apparitions, so it cannot be Jane’s ghost. At first she wants to say nothing, but Jane just continues to stand there, expecting some sort of engagement. “How are you feeling?” She settles for something vague, the opposite of intimate.

“Tired,” Jane says. She takes Maura’s response as permission to enter and sit down. “Bruised.” Maura watches Jane lower herself gingerly. Then Jane holds out the bag. “It was the only thing I could afford without taking out a second mortgage, so....”

Maura removes the bottle of Coco Madamoiselle perfume, Chanel, and bites her lower lip. “What we have is so fucking perverted,” she curses.

Jane’s eyes blow open. “What?”

“This is my favorite,” Maura says, holding the bottle up for Jane to see. Her eyes turn severe and accusing. “Jack can’t even tell you three brands of perfume, but you know exactly which Chanel is mine. The disgusting thing about it is that you’re using it to buy me. To buy my compliance.”

“I’m using it to apologize to you,” Jane spits, looking Maura up and down as if she has transformed and Jane no longer recognizes her. “Because I know I hurt you.”

“Do you?” Maura asks, “do you know that you hurt me? I begged you not to do it and you did it anyway. You hurt me after I gave you the blueprint on how exactly not to. And now you think that a two thousand dollar bottle of perfume is going to make all of this go away?! Fuck you.”

Jane hops up as soon as Maura does, will not cede the higher ground. Immediately she towers over her. “Hey! I know that jumping in after Paul was dangerous,” she says, brown eyes hard and narrow, “but I was doin’ my goddamn job. My job.”

“Your job is to serve and protect! How in the hell are you supposed to do that if you’re dead?!” Maura shouts, and Jane is glad she shut the door behind her when she walked in.

“It’s part of the risk! You have always known what could happen to me! I did what I had to do to serve him, and protect him - even if I thought he was an asshole,” Jane gets just as loud.

“Did you have to tell him you loved me? Huh? Is that part of police procedure?” Maura pushes an index finger into Jane’s chest.

Jane freezes. “What?”

“Or was that a lie, too? Just something you said to keep him from going over? Well, it didn’t fucking work, Jane. He went over anyway,” Maura’s voice cracks, but it is still strong.

“I didn’t... that wasn’t a lie,” Jane, too flabbergasted to yell, whispers.

Maura is close enough to hear it. “Did you fucking think about any of us before you jumped? You should have seen Frankie. He was a mess out there when he first found out.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jane responds to Maura’s jab with her trademark pettiness. “I didn’t think about you.” She addresses Maura specifically. Only Maura. “The only person that I thought about was Paul and that I was the only one that could help him. I wasn’t gonna let him drown, Maura!”

They are nose to nose. Maura is crying and furious, and Jane is just furious. “But you were ok to just let me flounder the rest of my life, without you? You couldn’t let some man you don’t know and don’t like drown, but you love me and you were willing to let me mourn you for, god, all eternity? That’s how you show me you love me?!”

And just like that, with Maura shoving against her, Jane buckles. Maura, in her rage and in her sorrow, makes total sense. “Jesus Christ, babe. Jesus Christ,” Jane exclaims, more to herself than to Maura. She snatches Maura into a hug and squeezes with all her might. “Hey, I know, I know,” she says.

At first Maura resists, tries to push away from Jane’s affections, but then her heart bids her to succumb. So she does, and she tries to melt herself into the body around her. She gropes and grasps and holds, rubbing her hands over every surface of Jane they can find. She looks up, just as Jane is looking down, and decides whatever has stood between them, whatever has prevented them from being body to body, even if it’s Jane, can go to hell.

She presses their lips together, and sucks Jane’s soul out of her. She senses Jane’s feet becoming unsteady as she bites at Jane’s lips, as she wraps her own lips around the tip of Jane’s tongue, but she refuses to hold Jane up.

Jane stumbles forward, drawn in and made weak by the passion. She moans as their union grows sloppily wet and she can no longer breathe. She pulls her tongue back and kisses Maura seven, eight, nine times. And good fucking god, it tastes like human sun, like Maura herself is a fruit of which to partake, sweet and supple. Maura’s hands in her hair, on her cheeks, down her front, all of it smacks of homecoming. This is what she had missed? If only she had known, she would have considered letting Paul get swept away to sea. She’s soaking wet and she kisses again when Maura grabs on the sides of her belt and lifts.

“This… is what gives you the highest close rate in the commonwealth,” Maura says angrily, as if she is admitting something that she does not want to.

Jane senses a shift in their conversation and gives Maura one final peck to the side of the mouth before pulling away. “And maybe a little bit hard to love,” she adds. It says yes, I see you to at least some of the pain that Maura feels. “But I really, really hope you love me still.”

Maura doesn’t say it. Jane needs it and Maura withholds it. “I was so afraid that I’d lost you. To Paul fucking Westcourt,” she still has her arms wrapped around Jane’s shoulders as she confesses. “And… I just kept thinking that I didn’t do enough to help you. I… why didn’t I go and help you talk Paul down, or why didn’t I stop you from going over the railing? Why wasn’t I closer to grab you?”

Jane kisses her to drive away the frenzy. “There was nothin’ you coulda done on that bridge, ok? That’s on me. It’s a decision I made,” she says. She wants to kiss Maura a thousand more times, chase the flutter in her heart that it gives her, but Maura looks angry.

“And I’m saying that it was the wrong decision,” Maura says. She wants to pull away from Jane but all she can do is stare at Jane’s pink, swollen, moist lips. And then all she can do is remember the taste of them, like cinnamon coffee. Black, no sourness from creamer or dairy. Jane moves to protest, but Maura puts a finger to those lips. She has seen Susie loitering outside the door for several seconds, and sure enough, she knocks. “Come over tonight,” Maura tells Jane, “we need to talk.”

Jane kisses her finger with three short, loud smacks. “Jack gonna be home?”

Maura, for the first time since Jane drove them from BPD to East Boston the night before, remembers Jack. Shit.

[cocochannel00]

Only Wish (This Year)

All Y/n wants for Christmas this year was Harry to be home... so what happens when Harry can’t make it? (a part of the ‘Christmas song fic challenge’)

Word count: 3k Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

A/N: hello my loves! This is my submission for @goldenbluesuit​’s christmas fic challenge, Christmas is literally my favorite holiday of the year and I’m so happy I got a chance to do my first fic writing challenge based on the absolute bop that is Britney Spear’s “Only Wish (This Year)”. If you want to read more great Christmas fics by some amazing writers checkout the Christmas Song Masterlist Here and if you want to read and more of my writing check out My Masterlist Here. I hope you enjoy!! 

"Love I think the tree looks a little crooked"

"No, it's not! It looks fine," you grumbled as you tried to fluff one of the branches that was limping to the left a bit. You had just gone out with Anne yesterday to the Christmas tree farm to get it. The two of you spent nearly two hours walking around the field looking for the perfect tree to put in the living room and after your fingers and toes had officially gone completely numb the two of you gave up and settled for the lanky one in the corner of the field that no one wanted. The tree towered over you quite a bit and had a bit of a tilt, but it reminded you a bit of Harry and this Christmas that was what you wanted, him.

"The reindeer you just hung up is about to fall off, Love" he mumbled from the screen of your computer as he face-timed you from the studio in LA. Rushing over to the left side of the tree, you scooped up the ornament quickly just as it was beginning to slide off of the scrawny branch you had placed it on earlier. As you less than gracefully began to pick yourself off the ground, you heard a wolf whistle come from your husband.

"On second thought, if you keep bending down like that I think I might actually like this tree" Harry stated with a smirk as you gave him the middle finger. "Your mom and I picked it out yesterday cause we thought it looked like you. A little lanky, a little scrawny... looks like he just rolled out of bed" you replied with a laugh.

"I'm going to spare my ego and pretend you didn't just compare your beautiful, loving, and supportive husband to that sad drooping tree you have in the corner."

"(Y/n) is that Harry you're talking to in there? Tell him he better be making it home for Christmas Eve dinner or I'm going to be having a stern talking with Jeff" Anne shouted from the kitchen where she was finishing up some cookies for when Gemma and Michal' today.

You could see the color drain from Harry's face as he scratched the back of his neck. You and Harry have been married now for a little over a year but had been dating for well over three, so you know his every tick and giveaway and when Harry begins to scratch and rub at the back of his neck you know it's bad news.

"I've got this really good chorus started with Mitch, but were still trying to figure out whether-"

"Harry"

"We spent all of yesterday  working through the tracklist and I think I've narrowed it down to-"

"Harry"

"I think I'm going to end the album with the song I wrote on our honeymoon. I tweaked the melody but it's still-"

"Harry" you whispered for the last time before he finally stopped his rambling. You could see him by the way he was avoiding your stare that he didn't want to say the words you both were dreading. He isn't coming home for Christmas. You both knew it was a possibility when he flew out to LA nearly five weeks ago to finish the album before the new year. Despite Harry's offer of having you come to LA with him, your job didn't allow you the luxury of taking off that much time especially during one of your busiest times of the year. You had held out hope that Kid Harpoon and Harry could tie up all of the loose ends ahead of time, but clearly, that wasn't going to happen.

"I tried baby, I really did. There are just too many little things that need to get done here. I promise I'll try and make it back next week, we can have our own little Christmas together in London" he stated trying the lighten his crushing words. This was supposed to be your first Christmas as a married couple together so to say you were disappointed would be an understatement, but you knew that if you let Harry know he would be on the first flight out to London.

"It's ok, we both knew this could happen. I'm sure Anne and I will spend way too much time fussing over Adelaide to even notice you're not here" you replied back trying to lighten the mood a bit more by mentioning Gemma's adorable two-year-old daughter.

"Stop rubbing it in" he joked as Jeff called his name in the background. "I need to get back in before they all have my head for keeping them here past midnight again. I'll try and sneak another call later tonight if you're still up"

"So good, H. I love you"

"I love you too, (Y/n). See you soon" Harry replied back as he hung up. You closed your laptop and continued your quest to finish decorating your slightly distorted Christmas tree. Securing the lights onto the tree had somehow become the hardest part of decorating the tree, so while you were wrapped in a mess of bulbs and strings you didn't even notice Anne come in with two cups of hot chocolate.

"Oh dear let me give you a hand" Anne muttered as she placed the mugs on the coffee table before rushing to your side, delicately untangling you from the lights while placing each string perfectly in its place. You gave her a quick thanks before you walked over to the couch to admire your work.

"He texted me to check up on you, that crazy son of mine. Swear I love him, but sometimes he's got just no sense of priorities. Leaving his wife all alone for the holidays, just not right" Anne said as she passed you a mug and sat down next to you.

"I appreciate you belittling your son on my behave, but reset assured that I am ok. I'm sad we won't be able to spend our first Christmas together as a married couple, but I'm sure we'll have our own little Christmas once he gets back. Besides, I still get the full week off of work and I get to spend time with you and baby Adelaide for the next couple of days and it will be great!"

"Well if you ever need me to put him in his place you let me know, ok sweetheart? Can't have my favorite daughter-in-law feeling upset" she said as she wrapped her arms around you.

"Thanks, Anne" you replied as you gave her a tight squeeze, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Anytime dear. Now quick, turn on channel Hollywood Gossip before Gemma shows up,  she never lets me watch this show. I heard Lily James was spotted with an ex-boyfriend again"

The two of you spend the next hour catching up on some gossip and making lists of everything that still needed to be done before Christmas in two days. If there was one thing you were certain about, it was that you were going to make the most of your situation and try and have the best Christmas possible

**********

It was Christmas eve and you had spent the entire morning cooking and prepping for the large family meal you and Anne were hosting for Gemma and Michal and a couple of close friends. The two of you had been absolutely buzzing and Christmas tunes had been playing throughout the house since you both woke up bright and earlier at 7 am. You had scoured your suitcase for the perfect Christmas outfit but after spending 20 minutes trying on outfits in the and had settled for one of Harry's red cardigans and some dark washed jeans. The smell of the vanilla candle that smelt just like Harry that Anne had left in your room last night made you miss him even more as you finished getting yourself ready just in time to hear the doorbell ring downstairs.

You peeked out the window and saw Gemma and Michal standing at the door with little Adelaide at their feet and quickly ran to the door to greet them. Once you opened the front door a pair of small arms wrapped themselves around your legs as Adalaide screamed your name.

"Well hello, my sweet girl. I missed you so much! Did you miss me?" you asked as she nodded quickly. You picked her up carefully and smothered her face in kisses just as Anne came over to greet everyone.  The five of you made your way out of the foyer and into the kitchen as Gemma wrapped her arms tightly around you and dragged you to the far end of the kitchen.

"Good afternoon my favorite sister. How is the married life treating you? Any surprises I should be worried about this Christmas?" she asked as she stole a Christmas cookie off of one of Anne's various dessert displays.

"It's been very nice, thank you. I don't think you'll be having any surprises from me this Christmas"

"Pitty I was hoping they be able to be in the same class as their cousin could go to school together," she said nonchalantly smirking at you as you stood there confused.

'What do you mean cousins? Adelaide already in day-care and I don't-- Oh my gosh Gemma are you -"

"Shh don't say it out loud, but yes. About eight weeks along, but we haven't told anyone yet. I'm telling you because last time I told you everything went well, so I think you're my good luck charm... and I need you to drink all of the shots Chloe tries to feed me tonight" She mumbled as you laugh and give her a big hug.

"Well congratulations Gem, I wish you both the best. Hey Adelaide, did you know what special person is going to be joining you really soon?" you asked the little girl in your arms as she played with the butterfly necklace Harry had gotten you for your second anniversary together.

"Santa"

"You're right baby Santa is coming tonight. Why don't you help me and Nana Anne finish decorating these last cookies before everyone gets here"

**********

The night was fantastic. After all of the guests had arrived, you all sat down to eat the wonderful roast Anne had been making all day. The room was filled with laughter and smiles as people recounted their most embarrassing Christmas stories. Your favorite was Michal's who as a child got so excited about seeing Santa at the mall that he actually peed on Santa's lap while telling him what he wanted for Christmas. Gemma discreetly slid her shot glass to you numerous times throughout the night and despite the questioning looks coming from Chloe, no one questioned Gemma's excuse of being the designated driver this year. Overall it was by far one of your favorite holiday meals to be a part of, you only wish Harry could have been there to share it with you.

"Me pants are about to explode, but does anyone fancy a little Christmas Eve stroll outside?" Michal asked as he cuddled a sleeping Adelaide to his chest.

There was a chorus of agreements and your large group slowly began to clean up their placemats and prepare themselves for the trek out in the snow. You helped Gemma load the dishwasher as Anne distributed Tupperware for everyone to take leftovers home with them before running upstairs to grab your winter jacket and boots. After everyone was all bundled up, you all headed outside into the snow, Gemma, and Michal leading the way as walked along the sidewalk. You watched the way Gemma placed a snowflake on Adelaide's nose and waited for the little girl to giggle before quickly wiping it off just to do it all over again. You continued to watch the interaction with a yearning in your heart at the thought of having your own kids with Harry and being able to take them on walks and show them ordinary things like snowflakes. Just as you had begun to drift off into your subconscious world Anne came up next to you and wrapped her arms with yours.

"That will be you someday, I can just feel it" Anne stated as she squeezed your hand tight. You gave her a small smile and nodded your head.

"I hope so. Just have to get your son to stay in one spot long enough" you joked as you rubbed your hands together for warmth.

"That man worships the grown you walk on, Love. If you tell him you want kids right now he'll drop everything"

"Hopefully when I get him back next week we can talk about it all a bit more" you replied as Anne nodded her head.

Your walk lasted about a half-hour until Adelaide began to cry saying she was tired and wanted to go to bed. You all preceded to head back into Anne's home for a bit to warm up before everyone would drive back to their respective homes to continue to celebrate their Christmases. Being the busy body that you were, you began to make tea for everyone in the hope of avoiding the dreaded interrogation about Harry and your's relationship that always came towards the end of these gatherings, but it never came. You think Anne must have warned them that you were feeling somewhat sad about Harry not being there because they managed to avoid the topic throughout the rest of the night. Just as the clock struck midnight everyone slowly began to say their goodbyes and exchanging any last-minute gifts that needed to be given. You helped Anne gather everyone's things and waved your last goodbyes before heading into the living room to relax a bit.

"I'm a bit wiped out dear so I think I'm going to head to bed early. Will you be ok here by yourself?" Anne asked cautiously as you scrolled through some pictures Harry had sent you the other day of him at the studio.

"Yes, I think I'll be ok. Have a good night Anne and thank you for a wonderful Christmas"

"No thanks needed dear, you're family now and always will be. I'll see you in the morning".

You waved a quick goodbye as Anne left upstairs to her room. The silence downstairs was only making your feelings of missing Harry worse so you decided to put on the TV and watch a Christmas movie to lift your spirits a bit as you cuddled Harry's picture to your chest. You know he was having Christmas Eve dinner with Jeff's family now and you didn't want to bother him so you decided that you would suck it up and wait until tomorrow to call him and tell him how much you really miss him. All you wanted this Christmas was to have him sitting next to you, sipping on a couple of hot chocolate and making fun of your weirdly patterned socks.

You hoped that flipping through the tv channels would help distract you but the minute you started channel surfing and Love Actually popped up on the screen in front of you, the waterworks began. You cried because you missed Harry. You cried because you didn't get to share all of your happy memories of today with him. You cried because you could cuddle him to sleep and wake up to his delicious scent. There you sat in his childhood home wrapped in a fuzzy blanket crying. You sobbed into the blanket as quietly as you could in the hopes of not waking up Anne and after what felt like an eternity, you finally fell asleep on the couch

*********

You were peacefully asleep on the couch until the sound of music blasting from the kitchen speaker startled you awake. 

“I signed my letter that I sealed with a kiss I sent it off, and just said this...”

"Oh, fucking shit. Stupid fucking Tom calling me at..." you heard as a crash came from the kitchen.

You jumped from your curled up position on the couch and turned around to see where the noise was coming from. As you sank deeper into the couch hoping not to be seen, you saw a silhouette moving around the kitchen searching the drawers. Your pulse began to race as you start to run all of the potential ways in which this intruder could kill you right now. Just as you were about to reach for your phone to call 999, the intruder turned on the light and you saw a familiar head of curly hair.

"Jesus fucking christ Harry nearly gave me a heart attack" you stated as Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

The two of you stared at each other for a while before you finally processed what was going on. Harry was here. Harry had made it. He was here for Christmas. He came. You all but sprinted off of the couch and launched yourself at him, hearing release gasp as you latched on to his body like a koala.

"Nearly gave me a heart attack there, love" he stated as he wrapped his arms around you and ran his hands through your hair.

"I could say the same thing. Who comes home after midnight and doesn't say anything, especially when said person said many times that they weren't going to be to make it home"

"Wasn't supposed to be home but then mom said you looked upset after our call yesterday so I told Jeff I would finish the rest in the London studio and zoom call any last-minute details. Excited to have me home?" he asked with a smirk.

"No" you stated trying to hide your excitement.

"Come on Love, don't lie to me. I'm excited to be home. Get to spend Christmas with my beautiful, smart, kind, amazing wife.  Get to shower her with gifts. Best Christmas ever"

"Definitely best Christmas ever" you mumbled back as you leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips after so long.

"I have one more surprise for you that I think you'll like" he stated as he broke away from the kiss.

"What" you whined as he laughed at you.

"Told Columbia that I'd make the record, but that I'm not releasing it till the end of next year. Want to settle down a bit more, gain more stability in case..." he trailed off as he cheeks turned pink.

"In case what?" you asked innocently even though you knew exactly what he was insinuating.

"In case you want to try for a baby like we talked about on our honeymoon. Said you wanted more stability from me before we started trying so this me giving you that. Don't want to pressure you or anything and this is your choice and I don't- "

"Yes," you whispered.

"Yes?" he questioned before you nodded your head and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Tears appeared in his eyes as he spun you around the kitchen. You laughed as he chanted "baby baby baby" quietly as to not wake Anne but the joy in his expression spoke volumes. You were both ready for this next chapter in your life and whatever happens next, as long as you were together, you knew everything would be ok.

“Hey babe” you whispered as Harry continued to cheer quielty. 

“Yes, Love?”

“Is Britney Spears your ringtone?”

“Maybe... It’s festive!” he defended as you laughed

“Ok love, whatever you say” 

Hope you all enjoyed and happy early Christmas to all who celebrate and a Happy Holidays everyone!!

[theodora3022]

Crown Jewel

(noun): a particularly valuable or prized possession or asset.

Pairing: Francis Scott Fitzgerald X fem! former assassin reader

Summary: Having betrayed the Order of the Clock Tower and fled to Japan, you hid your ability and worked at the ADA as a secretary for protection. Life was not as good, but you knew what Lady Christie would do if she discovered a traitor’s whereabouts. You knew someone would dig up your old dirt sooner or later, but why does it have to be this arrogant, awful man? 

Notes: This is really self-indulgent (to satiate my cravings and daddy issues), so read it at your own risk. I am not comfortable with cheating, so Francis is single in this one and never went bankrupt.(But he is still a family man, his wife Zelda passed away before the events in the show) He is an arrogant bastard in canon so you might find his behaviour offensive but that is just how he is. Excuse my pathetic Canadian English, as I cannot write in British English at all. This fic took me too many hours to write, thankfully it is finally done...

Special thanks to my friends for beta reading this long thing, your encouragement and praises are what kept my fragile sanity intact in the process!

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mild bimbofication, mild objectification, coercion, implied dub-con(We all know what happens in marriages right?), Yandere themes

She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines.

She was beautiful for the way she thought.

She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved.

She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad.

No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks.

She was beautiful, deep down to her soul.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

The entire Fitzgerald Estate is finely, thoughtfully decorated, lavish even. Like photographs right out of a luxurious architecture magazine, with marble floors, persian carpets and high raised ceilings. A manor that sits on the top of a little hill, surrounded by trees and flowerbeds. But no matter how beautiful it may be, no one can never feel quite at home in prison. You thought as you lean back on the living room sofa near the patio, slowly dozing off in the afternoon sunlight with a half-read novel on your lap. Maybe you would go for a swim later, you could use a soak before he returns.

It’s easy to forget how much blood is on your hands in peaceful times like these. Ever since he made you dispose of your count book, you can barely remember how many people you had slaughtered.

Your hands were once covered with callouses from hours of training, but now they are as smooth as the velvet curtains. The glow from the big diamond ring on your ring finger irritates you so very often, but he had warned you not to take it off.

“Lady Fitzgerald? Mrs. Smith is here for your fitting session.” It is one of the maids. Ah, is the tailor here already? You put up a smile for the guest and got up, silently cursing your “husband” in the process. Good thing he is at work most of the time, so you can at least enjoy this glamorous life every once in a while without wanting to bury yourself in a bottomless pit.

Another week, another one of those frivolous social events. But you have no choice but to accompany him to every single one of them. While acting as the leader of the Guild, Francis is also the head of the Fitzgerald cooperation, therefore this high society life has always been the norm for him. You, on the other hand, prefer lurking in the shades. All these shimmering lights, noisy parties, fancy dresses and high heels leave you either dazzled or vulnerable. You feel more like his nice accessory, a Christmas bauble than a wife. However, you know your obligations. Be his arm candy, smile, be obedient and not to speak unless spoken to. The alternative of obeying these absurdities is simply unthinkable. Merely the thought can make you feel chills on this warm summer afternoon.

It’s either this or absolute hell. No, that is not an exaggeration.

As an experienced assassin, you had prepared for death since you first signed up for the position. However, no one can bear the Order’s punishments. You know that too well, having witnessed it first-hand countless times.

At least you can live a carefree life with this option. With infuriating restrictions or not, you are still alive and maintain a certain degree of freedom. You should take this compared to an excruciating death any day. Plus you also get to live in extravagance, you cannot hate that for one bit. This rich man has spoiled you to no end, willing to fulfill even your most absurd requests as long as you are his darling wife. Let it be cars, clothes or jewelries, whatever you wish for, Francis would always make sure you got the finest of them.  Not that is ever possible, but you could...get used to this.

However, you utterly despise this title, Lady Fitzgerald? No matter how much he pampers you or showers you with gifts, it would never make up for the fact that you only signed that marriage license under certain conditions. There are those sleepless nights, while you lay under silk quilts in his embrace in some exquisite mansion, you wish you were back in your humble Yokohama flat alone.

---a few months ago

Almost spilling your morning beverage due to running into one of your coworkers at the door, is surely a bad omen, but at the time you did not give it much thought. “Sorry, (y/n)-san. But there is an emergency.” Kirako Haruno?

Work has only just begun, and to your knowledge, there are no major events scheduled for today. Why is she in such a hurry?

Haruno is as terrified as if she just saw a bear in the middle of the street. Strange, since she is usually calm and collected. 

“What has happened? Are you okay?”

“There are foreigners here, they are demanding an audience with the president. (y/n)-san, you can handle them, right? Please, keep them occupied while I notify the president.” Looks like this is your problem now since you speak better English compared to any other in the ADA.

She said it quickly without any pause. Also walked away before you had a chance to refuse, so Haruno missed how the colours suddenly drained from your visage and your horrid expression. 

Oh, dear. Please do not let the foreigners be them… Although not many members of the Order recognizes you as you always don masks even at meetings, you still feel the world may have ended for you, as you wobble out of the office to the reception area with cold sweat. If Haruno had not hurried off, you would have found some excuse to get away from this troublesome situation. You should have called in sick today...

Are they speaking with American accents? Good gracious, you almost had a heart attack over this. You dealt with the Guild before, back when you were still in the Order when you still viewed Lady Christie as your older sister. She used to take you to negotiations meetings. You know how they are, so it should be a cakewalk to keep them occupied for at least a while. But...what if they identify you and report your whereabouts to the Order?! Would they be willing to do Christie this “favour”? The last time you checked, the two organizations were not on exactly friendly terms. So you should be fine as long as you act accordingly. Besides, the agency would not allow foreigners to harm one of their office clerks, precisely why you applied for a job ADA a year-and-a-half ago.

Get your act together, (y/n). Being this panicked is beneath you, everything will be alright as long as you conceal your fears. 

Finishing on your diplomatic front preparation, you greet them with a professional attitude. “Welcome to the Armed Detective Agency, ladies and gentlemen of the Guild.” You try to talk in the calmest tone possible, without stutters. “Now if you would follow me, I shall prepare you some tea. The President will be ready for you shortly.” Now that you have a chance to observe them up close, you had to dig your nails into your palms, pressuring yourself to maintain composure. Why is the leader of the Guild here?! You had seen him before, there is no way you could mistake that arrogant blonde for anyone else. Even though you are pretty confident he would scarcely recognize you without a mask, that tiny possibility feels like a sharp blade pressing against your throat, ready to strike anytime. 

Fitzgerald was not expecting someone who speaks flawless English to receive them. Not someone this cute, too. And here he thought this is just going to be like any other boring business discussion. But he cannot shake off this feeling of how he had seen your enchanting smile somewhere before. It was not easy to leave even a vague impression on the great Francis Scotts Fitzgerald, you must have been someone important. A business partner? A Government Official? Or perhaps a Socialite? You are someone with a high position, that he can be sure. But why would you Oh how he hates having blurry memories of something. As soon as he returns to the Guild base, Francis needs to look into their Database immediately. 

“Earl Grey, imported from England. Would you like some refreshments as well?” Taking out a can of cream biscuits from your desk drawer, you are glad to see the redhead young girl nodding excitedly. You return a genuine smile to her before bending down to fetch the plate. You were not sure if you were just being oversensitive, but you felt a burning gaze on your back when you turned. Your assassin instincts were almost always accurate, could it be that Fitzgerald had remembered something?

“Is there something wrong, Miss? You are sweating so much.” You do appreciate the ginger girl’s kind words, but could she not say it out loud for her boss to hear? You were planning on keeping your panics to yourself. Moving unnoticeable further away from the Guild leader, you gulped nervously. 

“My apologies. I am not feeling well this morning. Now, here’s your biscuits.”

“Aren’t they called cookies? They are truly delicious, thank you so much, Miss. I’m Lucy by the way.”

“In England, we call them biscuits. Would you like some more, Lucy? I have more if you’ll like it.” Her cheerful nature reminds you of a little sister, how could you say no to her pleading eyes. Unfortunately, this also made you forget how you are trying to remain incognito, and you let your hidden past out unintentionally. 

England? That certainly rings a bell for the bright mind of Francis Fitzgerald. And no, he was not eavesdropping. You are talking to his employee, after all. Francis even forgot to scold Lucy about being a demanding guest on cookies because he was so deep in thought, searching for any clue of who you might be. He was about to recall something when you received the president’s notice about the meeting. “The President is ready now, this way please.”

After they entered the office, you realized how you had accidentally exposed yourself while explaining about biscuits. No, now all you can do is pray Fitzgerald was not listening in to that whimsical tea-time conversation. Your stomach suddenly feels queasy, a sign that maybe you should request to go home early. You surely do not want to face those calculating blue eyes again. Heck, you never trembled this badly, not even before the toughest missions. 

He was planning on asking you some questions after that unsuccessful negotiation, but it would seem like you had taken a sick leave early. 

You seem to be rather nervous around him. Suspicious. 

Yet Francis cannot stop thinking about how you cared for Lucy. That consideration, if his little daughter is still around, she is bound to love you… It could just be professional kindness, but Francis had seen enough people to tell what is a facade or not. Zelda was like this too, in fact, it’s this admirable quality that had drawn him in the first place.

The great Fitzgerald had seen so many beautiful women, but your unparalleled warmth and grace outshine all appearances. 

Wait, Francis had finally cleared the fog now. Aren’t you that girl with Agatha Christie, the head knight of the Order of the Clock Tower? No wonder you speak of England. He was so shocked when Christie introduced you as one of her finest knights. You were so friendly and lighthearted, how can you be that notorious master Assassin? It does not matter whether you had a mask on or not, he remembers those lovely (colour) eyes too well. He had found you to be alluring back then, but at that time he was too busy to concern himself with amorous feelings. Going through the guild files, he found that statement from Christie about how you had defected from the Order and a bounty for your whereabouts.

So, you are hiding from your former Organization? That is unfortunate. Francis had heard a word or two about how the Order is feared for its gruesome torture methods, how they still implement the old ways without mercy. You would rather work as a low-wage secretary then continue being one of their most esteemed Knights, something must have gone terribly wrong. 

This is the perfect wager to let you, a kind, independent strong woman, bend to his will. 

Now that he had thought about it, coming back home to a loving wife once again sounds more than wonderful. Having someone by his side forever, to love, to spoil, to have a family with had always been what he wanted. But fate has been cruel to Francis on this matter and had taken them away way too soon. 

This time, he would make sure to do it right. Francis is determined not to let the tragedy repeat itself.

You were surprised by that clearly expensive gift box on your desk the next day you arrived at work. There is a letter attached to it? Your heart dropped when you saw the Guild's emblem embedded on the wax seal. What could they possibly want from you apart from...that?

“Dear Ms(y/n), Sir Francis S FitzGerald would like you to join him for dinner at (location). Please put on the dress in the box attached and be at (location) at seven p.m sharp.” 

What a condescending letter. Not even a polite invitation, just saying he wants you there? You knew how this Fitzgerald is, that arrogant and greedy type, who would value money above conscience. Well, you still got some savings left, if that could shut him up you would not mind emptying your pockets.

You can never let her find you. Suicide before she did is a possible option, but you decided to save that as the last resort.

That is why you decided to put on that dress and go to meet him at this high-end western restaurant. 

The hem of the dress is too short for your likings, but its sublime texture made you presume it costs a fortune. You cannot even recall when was the last time you had don such fine material. Life as a Knight major feels nothing more than a fever dream when Agatha was still your friend, your dear Commander.

What is Fitzgerlad’s intention of giving you such a scandalous dress? Is this some peculiar way to humiliate you? This is why you are better off acting as the blade, never as the tactician. Mind games were never your forte. 

You are wearing that dress as Francis asked, good. He knew you would look gorgeous in it. It’s such a shame you always covered yourself up. Why wear those cheap, conservative trash when you can wear this?

Someone like you needs to be cherished, to be coddled. You do not belong in the shades or some little office.

“Mr. Fitzgerald. How may I help you today?” God, you feel almost naked in this piece of cloth, but you know you had to grin and bear it as he has the upper hand for now. “If this is about that business permit, I am not the one to make decisions.”

“Why, you are not going to thank me for the dress? You look absolutely breathtaking if you are wondering.” Crap, he is wearing a suit of a matching colour. Has he done this on purpose?

You blush a bit at Francis’s generous compliment, but you did not foreget why you are here.

“Please, do sit. And call me Francis, Miss.” Pulling the chair out for you, Francis smiled politely before signalling the waiters to bring out the appetizers. He is acting way too nice if all he wants is blackmailing you. You were expecting a simple, cold business trade, not...whatever this can be called.

“So, how is Lady Christie doing?” You put down the wine glass, sensing his malicious intent and narrowing your eyes. Of course, he knows, you should have expected this much from the leader of the Guild and an accomplished businessman. Lady Christie must have sent out wanted advertisements, too. 

“If you know this much then you must know I am not a part of the Order anymore.” Just name the price already, then you can both go back to your respective businesses and forget your paths ever crossed.

Clever one, although Francis would expect anything less from someone like you. Not just anyone could be the Knight major of that Order after all. You sighed with frustration, clearly wanting to get this over with. “How much do you need? I still have a decent sum in my bank account.” It would probably be a large price, coming from this greedy man, but you are willing to pay for it as long as he stays silent.

You, trying to bribe him? How adorable. You must have been incredibly oblivious to not notice his intentions. Yes, normally a good check would silence Francis, but can’t you see he is not after your money here?

Instead of taking the pen, Francis shoved his smartphone in front of your face. 

You turn paler when you figure out the contents. It was an email draft, a draft intended for your former Commander. It tells how the Guild is doing her a big favour by returning her astray Knight major to her proper place. Did he type out an email already? You can already feel those cold dungeon bars on your skin. 

“Is money not enough? What exactly do you need?” Calm down, (y/n). If Francis did not send that email, it means negotiation is still possible. Just give him what he needs and be done with it. 

To your shock, the blonde smiled smugly and said: “I want you to join the Guild.”

Join the Guild? “As an assassin?” Of course, he is after your ability. It was what made you a high ranking knight, no wonder he would want that for his organization. 

“Not exactly. You see, I’m looking for a...personal bodyguard.” Hm, Francis is fond of the word “personal” in this context, it makes him feel like you are one of his possessions already.

“If you have any knowledge about my ability at all, you should know I am no good for frontal combat. With your status, fitting individuals would come running.” Is he toying with you? How despicable. Only a dastard would toy with someone’s mind, especially someone desperate.

Carefully taking your hand into his, feeling your soft skin and those light calluses on your fingers, Francis knows he has to do this the blunt way. You are such a fool when it comes to romantic relationships. 

“Be my wife, you don’t need to worry about being discovered ever again. Christie cannot touch you as long as you are by my side. You can have whatever you want, just say the word. ”

This has to be a hallucination. Be his...wife? “Mr. Fitzgerald, have you got hit on the head earlier?” Feeling his forehead with the back of your hand: “You do not seem to have a fever. Are you feeling unwell?” Is he out of his mind? You, his wife? You are a dangerous assassin with a high headcount, not exactly wife material. No one sane wishes to be involved with you romantically, or so you thought.

He was not expecting such an eccentric reaction. Most women would be over the moon with the mere thought of becoming his mistress, not to mention an actual wife. Francis knows you are different, but this is out of his wildest predictions. 

You are even harder to predict than the stock market of New York.

“This is a serious offer, love. Do you take my words as some jester’s joke?” He is not joking? Oh dear, you don’t want to marry this man. He did not even properly court you? And it is not like he is giving you a real choice either.

“What, are you going to refuse? That is fine, surely this email could bring a smile to Christie's face.” “No, please don’t send that email!”The way your pupils shrink suddenly gives him heartaches, but this is the necessary measure to make sure you are compliant. Francis had promised to spoil you, but sadly this is not a matter he can compromise with. He could make it up with gifts and attention later right? This life in exile is not fitting for a lady like you, so why don’t you let him take care of you? Don’t you understand what could happen to you had he not intervened?

That trembling little nod is all Francis needs for confirmation. As he brings your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, he swore silently to himself how he would never repeat his previous mistakes.

“Now, let us go ring shopping. Pick the biggest diamond one if you like, but make sure to select it out with a matching one.”

----Back to present

After the fitting appointment, you decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with some confectionary practices. You remember well how Francis’s face would lit up like a Christmas tree if he comes home to the smell of your bakings. It disgusts you how much he loves your docile mask, how you are his perfect housewife, his Mrs. Fitzgerald. This bastard do take pleasure in others pain.

Still, you must keep your “husband” happy. Humming your favourite melody in a pink apron, you try to imagine you are just doing this for only your own amusement, in your own house to make this more bearable. 

Baking is one of the many hobbies you picked up after becoming Lady Fitzgerald. You could not work, neither as an assassin nor a secretary, as he is concerned about your “safety”: “Why should my lovely wife trouble herself with those headaches? You should spend your day doing whatever interests you, like painting or knitting! Tell me anytime if you need tutors.” Then Francis gave your head a few pats as if you are some cute puppy? You can never count how many screws he got loose.

What interests you? Well, stabbing Francis in his sleep could hardly count as a suitable hobby. Guess you’ll have to think of other ways to utilize those kitchen knives.  Since he forbids you to train with weapons, you are stuck with those pathetic feminine leisure activities. 

Placing the tray onto the preheated oven rack, you were cleaning up the mess from the process when two strong arms abruptly wrapped around your waist from behind. You knew exactly who it is since you had sensed his presence when he first set a foot into this ridiculously large kitchen. You also had to take deep breaths, reminding yourself why you shouldn’t just aim your fists at Francis’s nose then and there. These past few months with him had raised your resilience to an incredible level, you could tolerate his demanding physical affections without the urge to jump off a cliff now. 

Curling your lips upwards, you push yourself to leave a light peck on the tall blonde man’s left cheek. That is mandatory, you had learned that on the first day here. “You’re home early.” The way you say those words is so sweet, even sweeter than those sugary treats in the oven. Even though you have to be careful, not letting the venom underneath slip out.

This is what Francis S. Fitzgerald longs to come home to, the love of his life after a day of gruelling meetings and other work. Once a renowned assassin, a second-in-command Knight in a Prestigious Royal Order, but now you are just his little housewife. He could never find a shinier trophy to demonstrate his power and influence. The haughty Blonde knows you have not entirely given up on the idea of escaping, still holding a grudge towards him, time will tell whether you accept your place or not. But that does not matter now, right now the Guild leader just wants to watch some brainless tv show on the sofa, with you on his lap to unwind, some Bordeaux would be nice too. He could handle all those business meetings if that means holding you to sleep every night. The sight of your smile makes it all worth it. 

You belong to him now, his most prized possession, the crown jewel of Francis Fitzgerald’s collection.

And you have no say in the matter as long as you wish to stay in the land of the living.

It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving,

But like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

(Hey! Thank you for reading! Commetns and reblogs would be greately appreciated!)

[pomegranates-and-blood]

The Holly And The Ivy

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Reader, Sigurd/Margrethe

Summary: “I had this idea where Sigurd (or any of the brothers really) were to marry a Christian, but their marriage is dry and more political than anything, but Ivar is fascinated by her attitude (being opposite of him) and her love for life and simple things. He hears the reader and who she's married to talking about how she loves Christmas and he shuts her down, but Ivar decides to let her pick out a tree from the forest and put it up in the Great Hall and decorate it any way she wants. And the ending would include a kiss under mistletoe? If you can work with it.”

I’m very sorry if I dissapoint you anon, but the story was easier or smoother for me to write as a Modern!AU. I really hope you don’t mind. I can try something in the actual time period still, if you are not happy with au’s.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, passing mentions of abusive relationships (not involving any of the relationsips in the tag btw), angst, my poor attempt at holiday fics or holiday spirit. Also, a part is not smut or explicit but getting closer to it than most of my work, so that too.

A/N: I really hope I don’t dissapoint whoever requested this. Also, I made this way more complicated than it needed to be, bc I always do, and for that I’m also sorry. Hope you like this, thank you for reading!

The title is from a Christmas carol, cause why not lol

Taglist: @1950schick @youbloodymadgenius​ (I realized you once asked to be tagged on my Vikings works and I forgot, sorry)

“When we are done with this trip we’ll go back home.” Sigurd points out one night as you both say goodnight, in some hotel somewhere in Norway.

“Home?”

“To my mother’s, in a week. Family time and all that.”

Before you are to leave for your own room, you call out, “For Christmas?”

The blond shakes his head, “Yule. You can celebrate your Christmas when we return.”

“That’ll be after the New Year!” You complain softly, offering a smile because you cannot help it.

“I will have to deal with Ivar and my mother, you can deal with this.” Sigurd sentences, the harshness startling you and prompting you to accept the words with a nod.

He mutters a goodnight again, hesitating for a moment on his bedroom door, as if questioning whether he should say sorry or not. You choose to relieve him of that choice, going into your own room and closing the door with a quiet click.

As if it were waiting for the door to close, your phone lights up on your nightstand.

How’s Oslo?

You type a quick response,

You could just ask me if we’ll be attending your mother’s celebrations, you know.

The response takes a while longer, and you cannot help the smile that pulls at your lips.

…Are you?

I expect all those lessons of yours with Floki to come to use. I’m going to need to learn about Yule, apparently.

So I’m supposed to teach you?

Who else?

Your fiancé. Is the reply you get, so fast you think he already knew what your reply was going to be before you even sent it. After a moment, before you can even think on what to answer, another message comes through. Nvm, my brother is useless. I’ll do it.

Your lips pull into a wide and stupid smile, and God, not even the shame at the quick beating of your heart or the warmth that spreads through you could make you be any less thankful for this, if anything. For him.

Thank you. Are you going to be there by Christmas?

This time the answer takes a while longer, and the indication that he is typing appears and disappears a few times.

I don’t know. Before you can ask anything, or send anything, a new message pops up. Princess, this doesn’t get any easier. I don’t know if I can.

Tears rise in your eyes because a part of you knows you’re meant to say goodbye at the end, and every time you are reminded, either by the pain in your own chest or Ivar’s words, that you are on borrowed time; you realize that end is close than you think.

Well, in that case, Merry Christmas, Ivar.

____

You find yourself being driven to that massive and fancy house by your fiancé.

You toy with your engagement ring as the car approaches the house. You know, rationally, that you have nothing to fear. The brothers have never been mean or hurtful -well, most of them haven’t-, and Aslaug has always been courteous and kind and…incredibly performative.

A part of you never ceased to feel like an outsider looking in. Between the pariah that a stupid business practice will be made into Sigurd’s wife, and the silent and soft woman they ignore as if she were another piece of furniture, you’d much rather be the latter.

“Heavy little thing, isn’t it?” Sigurd teases as he turns off the engine, motioning with his head to the rings on your left hand.

You don’t say anything in response, simply getting out of the car in silence. You know he meant well, he always does.

But a part of you that is hopeful and childish and still looks at the snow that starts to fall lightly over the ground as some miracle that means Christmas is upon us…that part of you cannot help but feel bitter about it all. Regretful, or, maybe, resentful.

You never imagined life would be this, engagement -marriage- would be this. You thought of happiness and warmth and fidelity.

Foolish hopes, really. The hopes of a child that watched her parents dance to the light of the Christmas lights, to the music of the soft music her father hummed. Nothing but foolish hopes.

So, when Sigurd steps out and hesitates in offering you his hand, you offer a smile and take his hand in yours, choosing to appreciate that at least the man you will be forced to marry is one you might call a friend, a partner, one day.

It is easy to forget, it is easy to let your heart be light and just enjoy the adorable giggles of Björn and Torvi’s children, the sympathetic smile of Margrethe, the warm and brotherly embrace of Hvitserk.

You are sipping on wine and watching Ubbe throw Asa over his head as she yells for him to throw her higher when a presence stands by your side and a wine glass clinks with your own in silent toast.

“I know you know about Sigurd and me,” Margrethe whispers, “And I want you to know I am sorry. But…I won’t leave him, not until he asks me to.”

If a year ago someone told you that you’d spent Christmas Eve being told by your fiancé’s mistress that she refuses to stop seeing him, you would have assumed the world turned on its head.

It did, but…you still find it in you to love this world that hurts you, this life that tests you.

You offer a smile, “I know you love him. It started as…”

“Gold-digging?” The blonde supplies, a sheepish grimace on her face.

“I wouldn’t be as unkind as to-…”

“You should. That’s what it was,” Her smile loses the edge, and she falters, “At first.”

You accept her words with a nod, and another sip of your wine.

“Then as long as you are discreet, I don’t mind. Keep him happy, Margrethe, he deserves it.”

You start to walk away when she stops you with a call of your name.

“And you don’t? Deserve to be happy, I mean.”

You hesitate, faltering for a few seconds too long. Her blue eyes are big and uncharacteristically honest as they look at you.

“I…”

You take your gaze off hers, because it feels like she will know something she shouldn’t, something you don’t want her to; but your eyes betray you, it seems.

“Oh, him. Well-kept secret, that one,” She states, and when you open your mouth to argue, Margrethe shakes her head, “It’s okay, I don’t…I don’t blame you. Even if I don’t understand at all how that came to be.”

“It’s…”

“Complicated?” The blonde supplies, and you allow yourself a smile, you loosen your shoulders and close your eyes with a deep breath.

“Ivar, he…understands me.”

“But you two are nothing alike,” She states, and at your shrug, concedes, “Maybe that’s why.”

“Maybe,” You offer, and after a breath, because bitter regret at being the thing that keeps her from the man she loves chokes you for a moment, “Margrethe, I…”

“Don’t you even think of apologizing to me,” She laughs, “Gods, woman, you truly are a soft thing, aren’t you?”

“I have the privilege of being it.” You offer with a kind smile, because you’ve seen the scars, because you remember her when she was more fragile.

Margrethe shakes her head, “The burden.” She corrects, and with a soft squeeze of her free hand on your arm, she walks away.

____

It’s on the day before Christmas that the last of the Lothbrok arrives. You walk down the stairs to a very early breakfast, and jump when the front door opens to reveal Ubbe and Ivar.

He came.

“You are up early.” Ubbe comments as he passes you by, dropping a kiss on your cheek.

You greet Ubbe absently, your eyes on his brother. Numbly, you hear him say something about telling Aslaug that Ivar has come home, and quick steps carrying him up the stairs.

Your lips curve into a smile, or at least they try to, “Hi.”

“Hello, Princess,” Ivar greets, what months ago would have been a smirk curving his lips. Now, now it’s more tired and worn than anything. “Just in time for your…Christmas, right?”

You nod, feeling the stupid urge to cry, “Yeah. Means a lot, you know.”

“Well, I could feel you pouting over the phone, love,” His eyes check the stairs before he moves aided by his crutch towards you with a wince of pain -the cold, you remind yourself, the cold making his legs ache-, and once he is before you, a hand that shouldn’t feel as tender as it does cups your cheek and brings your mouth to his. “I couldn’t leave you alone here. You always find ways to embarrass yourself.”

You chuckle, burrowing your head on his chest as you embrace him.

“I may have fucked up a few times,” You concede, eyes closed as you take in his scent, his warmth, “But I’m cute, I get away with a lot of things.”

____

As the timer on your phone dings, you get up from the couch, leaving a warm but strong drink behind, and make your way to the kitchen, ready to take out the sponge cake -no, a voice too alike Ivar corrects you, Bûche de Noël-.

Uneven steps behind you let you know of who walked in behind you, and you turn around with a slight frown on your brows, meaning to ask something before he interrupts you.

“He’s groping and kissing her in front of you, and you say nothing?” Ivar demands, anger shining clearly in his blue eyes.

“Sigurd and Margrethe?” You ask, and shake your head, “Why would I say anything?”

“You know about them.”

“Of course I do. He doesn’t hide it from me, and he shouldn’t hide it from his family. He loves her, and she loves him.”

“You don’t care that he’s humiliating you?” He presses, and you sigh.

“Everyone here knows how things truly are between Sigurd and me.”

Ivar’s mouth curls into a snarl, and cruelty spews from his lips, “Well, if you had let Ragnar know you had no problem letting your husband fuck whoever he wants, you might have been able to marry Björn, like your father wanted.”

You close your eyes, “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, hm? Like someone that’s watching the woman he-…What am I supposed to be then, hm? What would make you happy?” He accuses, not losing the cruel edge in his voice even if you both know what he stopped himself from admitting. When you don’t answer, Ivar takes a deep and angry breath through his nose, “I’ve always been jealous of my brothers, you know this. Growing up their poor crippled brother is nothing to knowing Sigurd gets you and doesn’t even know what he-…what I’d do to be him.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Make him be the man you deserve!”

“He’s not the man I want,” You point out before you can keep the words trapped behind your lips. Ivar is inexplicably stunned by your words, it seems, and you lower your gaze. Resting your hands on the counter you drop your shoulders and shake your head, letting go of the previous argument and returning to…peace, or as close to it as one can get with Ivar. “Your brother deserves to be as happy as he can, with the woman he loves. It will not hurt me to see him with her. As long as-…”

“‘As long as it is discreet’, yes, I know. My mother and Ragnar have the same agreement.”

“It works for them, does it not?”

Ivar meets your gaze and doesn’t answer for a few moments, long enough that dread sets in your chest and questions arise in your mind.

Eventually, on the side of his jaw the clear tell of gritted teeth, he replies,

“Not as well as you think.”

“Well, Sigurd and I are friends, we…things will work out. They have to.”

“They have to, of course,” He mocks, moving his head as he rolls his eyes, “Anything to keep Ragnar and your father happy, hm?”

“Ivar…”

His eyes search yours, searching for the answer to a question he has not yet asked,

“I-If I asked you not to do this, if I…if I asked you for more time…” He leaves the words hanging between you, and you blink past helpless tears. He knows the answer, you know the answer.

Thankfully, you don’t have to remind him -and yourself- of the world you live in, of the lives you were meant to live, because the door to the kitchen opens and Aslaug walks through.

You keep your eyes firmly set on the tray before you, even though you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, demanding an answer. When he realizes he will not get one, he grunts, a clenched fist hitting the counter once before he walks away.

“I’m sorry.” You offer the matriarch as she keeps her all-seeing eyes on you, but Aslaug offers a smile. A fake one, but a smile nonetheless.

“The cold gets to Ivar, it makes him irritable. It is not your fault.” She soothes, but the smile you offer her in thanks still trembles. You both know these are lies you are sharing with one another, and though it makes you falter and stumble, Aslaug moves gracefully from one lie to the next.

“I’ll-…” You point behind you, to the living room, but the woman shakes her head.

“Surely you have time to help me with this?” She asks. It feels like walking into a wolf’s den when you nod your head and approach her.

“Of course.”

She watches raptly as you assist her in preparing the Yule Log, and you focus on doing your best to keep your hands from trembling.

“For someone that doesn’t follow the Gods, you know a lot about tradition, girl.”

“I…It was the least I could do, learning about what is important to your family, to Sigurd.” You offer, and whatever she -who always has the look of someone that sees beyond what normal eyes can- can sense in your words makes Aslaug stop.

She turns to you, and surprises you with a hand on your cheek. The woman towards over you, but the gentleness in her touch, the warmth in her eyes, they help you to not feel threatened.

“Still loving the world that hurts you, sweet thing?”

“It’s all I know how to do.”

Aslaug’s smile is almost sad when she looks into your eyes, “To love, yes, I know. Wish I saw that sooner,” You don’t know what to answer to that, so you offer her only a shaky smile and a shrug. Aslaug chuckles gently, “And you love my son, don’t you?”

The terrifying thought that she knows what she’s doing when not saying any names, the realization nothing gets past her and neither did whatever is between you and Ivar, it all settles in your stomach with a dead weight.

Still, whether she asks about Sigurd or Ivar, the answer is the same.

“Yes.”

One as a friend, a partner, a man you can learn to respect and build a life alongside of. The other, as everything you ever wanted, as someone that will always make you wonder about the ‘what if’s.

She shakes off whatever takes a hold of her, and before you can ask what she means, why it pains her, she steps back from you and turns her back to you.

“You know, Ragnar isn’t the only one in this family with an eye for business. I was once in the same position you are now, the heiress to an empire,” Aslaug’s smile seems to thaw as she hands you a refilled glass of wine to match hers. Resting her backside on the counter behind her, she continues, “My parents were able to teach me a few valuable lessons before their death.

She grabs your left hand, stopping you. Her eyes look deeply into yours, but her thumb rolls your engagement ring on your finger.

“Like how to understand when I can’t make any more moves. And when I can change the wording in a deal to make it favor me.

Your lips part, you think to say something, but Aslaug stops you with a smile.

“Let’s hope you’ve learned the same lessons, my dear.”

____

Ubbe is dancing with Asa standing on his feet, and you watch with a smile on your face as the family enjoys time together, and celebrates the holidays in their own way.

A part of you misses the Christmas lights, the decorations you’d help your parents put up when you were a kid. A part of you misses how simple life was back then, how in this time of year you could forget there was a world past the snow drifting down and the warmth of a hearth and a home.

Ivar comes right up to you, but doesn’t sit next to you, choosing to remain standing.

“Grab your coat,” He orders, and at your confused frown, he rolls his eyes and amends, “Please.”

The most insincere please in the history of pleases, but you know you get more than most, so you don’t comment on it.

Still, you have to ask, “Why?”

“I-…a surprise,” He says, and insists you move with a gesture of his head, “Come on.”

You follow him to the small house the Lothbroks have by the pool, a cozy little home of big windows. When Ivar motions for you to go in ahead of him, a part of you is suspicious, but you still skip your way inside and try not to ask questions as to how it is so warm here when it should be vacant.

Ivar turns the lights on, and you find in the middle of the living room a Christmas tree.

The tree is bare, but still lively and familiar.

You turn to Ivar with tears in your eyes, because you cannot help it.

“You did this for me?”

“You love your Christmas,” He mumbles, embarrassed at the reaction his -to some, uncharacteristic- thoughtfulness got out of you. “I figured you deserved to have some of it with you here.”

“Did you buy Christmas lights?” You ask softly, almost moving up and down in the balls of your feet in excitement, eyeing the bags on a chair nearby.

Ivar chuckles, endeared, and nods, “Go ahead, Princess.”

You skip your way to the bags, quickly looking over the goods and already planning on how to decorate it, how to make it look pretty, how to make it yours.

You don’t truly know how long you spend on it, gleefully putting up Christmas lights, and little ornaments. During the whole time you spent excitedly decorating the tree, you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, and when you look back at him you find him staring with a strange softness in his gaze.

You choose not to think too much on it, and instead ask his opinion on the decorations, that he gives gruffly and with a very poor attempt at making you believe that -either because Christmas grew on him, which you find very unlikely, or because of your own happiness- he isn’t happy to be here.

____

You smile at the warm and twinkling lights, and burrow closer to Ivar’s warmth, refusing to take your eyes off the dancing lights and refusing to put your feet back on the ground.

Refusing to step out of the fantasy that this could be your life.

Ivar shifts his position, and you lift your head from the juncture between his neck and shoulder and meet his eyes in question.

His eyes give away so much, always have, at least to you. And now they reflect the warm sparkle of the Christmas lights, and they reflect hesitation, fear, uncertainty, love.

Before you can ask what is wrong, Ivar leans in, his hand previously around you tangling in your hair as his lips claim yours.

His kiss is always demanding, but this time it holds desperation in the way Ivar begs for your lips to part with his own, it holds an urgency in the way his tongue dances with yours, it holds a ragged edge in the shaky breath that he lets out through his nose, it holds a goodbye in the way he ends the kiss as if forcing himself to pull away from you.

You try getting your breath under control and your voice to be yours again, but he’s so close, and warm, and yours; and all you want to do is kiss him again.

Kiss him again, and make the furrow in his brow, the pain in his eyes, go away. Kiss him again, and pretend you are not living on borrowed time.

So you do.

You kiss him, and take control of the kiss, and make him groan lightly against your mouth when you tug on his hair, and whimper his name against his own when you straddle him and feel him getting hard underneath you.

When your need for breath makes you part from his kiss, Ivar wastes no time trailing fervent kisses down your neck, panting breaths against the hot skin that he kisses and licks and bites.

You moan his name, forgetting everything but the touch of his lips on your skin, forgetting everything but the scent and taste and feel of him.

Either at the sound of your voice or the grind of your hips against his hardening cock, Ivar’s breath stutters and he breathes your name back at you, voice low.

His brow rests against your collarbone as he takes deep breaths, and your fingers toy at the hair that flows down to his shoulders.

“You know…” He murmurs, pressing a kiss that makes you shiver right on the dip between your collarbones, “There’s nothing I want more right now than marking this pretty neck of yours. Leaving you with…” His teeth scrape against your skin, a tease both for you and himself. Ivar does it a few more times, and moves up your neck again. Your breath shudders past your lips, and you tug on his hair to remind him of what he was saying. You always did love hearing him speak. For all the months you spend apart, his voice telling you what he’d do to you, what he’d have you do to him, is all that keeps you warm. Ivar chuckles, but continues, “Leaving you with my mark all over you, where everyone can see, so…so that they don’t doubt you’re mine.

His hands tighten on your waist, before they travel down, caressing your thighs as he sighs.

“But you’re not, are you? And I can’t…I can’t do any of that. I can’t-…”

You interrupt him before his thoughts can get ahead of him, before he can twist himself into knots about the situation you are both in.

“I am yours. Only yours.” You remind him softly, your lips by his ear. You lean back so you can meet his eyes, and seal your promise with a soft kiss over his lips.

Ivar’s eyes search yours when you pull back, with the same look as before. Uncertain, lost, tender and yet almost sad.

“Marry me.” He whispers, keeping his eyes on yours.

“What?” You squeak, eyes wide. He couldn’t have…he knows that…none of this makes any sense.

“Marry me instead of Sigurd,” He insists, and as if remembering the part he forgot, he curses and hurries to fetch something from his pocket. He offers you a simple but beautiful ring, and swallows, “I-I can make you happier than he ever could, I…I love you.

I know you can, you already do.

I love you too.

But you can’t say any of that, because your breaths are shallow and your head is filled with thoughts and…and you need space.

You scramble to stand, to put distance between the two of you. After a few controlled breaths, you return your eyes to Ivar, whose hand has now fallen back to his lap even if he still holds on to the delicate ring.

He grits his teeth, the obvious tell at the side of his jaw, and he seems to want to divert his eyes from you, but he only blinks and keeps certain eyes on you.

“Your father wants you to marry one of Ragnar’s sons, he doesn’t care who. I…have talked with my father, he agrees that if you want to, we can…” He licks his lips in a nervous gesture, “Mother says any backlash from breaking the engagement can be handled.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“Of course I have, y-you’d be Sigurd’s wife if I didn’t think of something,” A twitch of anger, of uncertainty, of fear, on his face, and then he amends, “You still can be. But I want you to be able to choose.”

Choose me, is what he doesn’t say.

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and you try a few times before you can finally speak,

“Ivar, we haven’t…it’s been only a few months.”

“And it will not work out, that’s what you’re saying?” He huffs, defensive, “It won’t work out if you marry my brother either.”

“I-…this-…”

“Stop thinking of excuses,” He snaps, gritted teeth and hurt written in his eyes, “I’ll handle everything, no matter your answer. Just…just give me an answer, Princess.”

____

It is open ended cause there’s two ends to this, I wanted to leave the choice to you guys! So, follow the link for the epilogue of your choice:

Will you accept the proposal and be bound to Ivar, for better or worse?

Or will you stay with Sigurd, and be content with companionship and friendship?

Hope you liked this, even if it wasn’t very holiday-ey. I wish you all very happy holidays and a great (or decent, after 2020 I’m happy with decent) 2021!!

(Ik it’s like the 13th and I’m gonna be very much around here posting and bothering the whole lot of ya till the holidays and beyond, but holiday fic and all that, ‘twas the perfect time to send good wishes and all. Love ya!)

[skullrock]

the tree - Steve x Reader

12 days of Christmas fics, day 9 - the tree

pairing: Steve x Reader

summary: Steve decorates the tree with his kids for their fifth Christmas. (early 90s au)

word count: 1.3k

warnings: it gets like a lil suggestive towards the end but, as they say, only if u squint

a/n: hi this is like... a major comfort fic for me!! when I was growing up I used to decorate the tree w my mom, dad, and brother, and learned a lot about my mom and dad through the ornaments they collected over the course of their relationship. decorating the tree was my favorite day of the year, and though we don’t do it anymore, I can at least live vicariously thru writing <3 hope u enjoy!

“You started without me?”

You whirl around to face Steve, who’s shrugging his snowy jacket off at the front door. Your kids, Lily and Audrey, jump off the floor and fly towards him. “Dad!”

“It’s me,” he smiles, bending down to hug them both. “I thought I told you guys to wait til I got home?”

“We couldn’t wait, daddy,” Audrey pouts. “You took too long!”

“I was gone for five hours!” he laughs. “Can’t believe mom let you.”

“They were very persuasive,” you beam.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking back at the girls. They were his pride and joy, his everything. His face always lit up when he walked through the door, or when he went to their preschool plays. He loved them more than anything in the world. You couldn’t get over his adoration for them - and their adoration for him.

“It sounds like maybe… maybe… it’s time for….” Steve grabs Lily and starts tickling her, giggling when she starts giggling.

“Dad, stop!” Lily shrieks, trying to twist away from him.

Audrey goes behind him and wraps her arms around his neck, jumping onto his back. “Daddy, don’t!”

“Oh, you want some, too?” he beams, reaching for Audrey, pulling her down and tickling her, too.

“Mommy, help!”

“Okay, tickle monster,” you say, walking over towards them. “Leave ‘em alone, it was my idea, anyw-“

“You!” Steve shouts, letting go of Audrey and grabbing you. “My own wife!”

“Steve -“ you laugh, and then shriek when he starts tickling you, too. “St- Steve! Stop!”

“Tickle monster stops for no one,” he says, but lets you go, both of you panting and giggling. You step forward to hug him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Missed you,” you say quietly.

“Tell me about it,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here now.”

Lily tugs on Steve’s jeans. “Daddy, tree!”

“Okay,” he says, pulling away from you. “Show me what you’ve done already.”

Lily and Audrey take him to the tree set up in the corner of your living room. It only had a few bulbs on it, but Steve always loved decorating the tree. He liked the nostalgia, and he especially liked all of the sentimental ornaments you’d both collected over the years. Every year for the past five years, he told Audrey and Lily the story for almost every ornament, and let them put it on the tree, sometimes lifting them up to get towards the top. It’d quickly become one of your favorite traditions, too.

“Here, look!” Audrey says, pointing at a snowman shaped ornament and tugging on Steve’s hand. “This one is me!”

It was a picture of Audrey when she was a newborn, her hair as thick as Steve’s. Steve looks at it, and even though he’d been the one who told her who it was, he still furrows his brows. “That’s not you.”

“Yeah huh!”

“Can’t be,” he says, trying not to smile. “You’re right here.”

“No, dad, it’s a picture!”

“That’s a baby,” Steve says, smile breaking through. “You’re not a baby now, are you?”

“No!” she shouts. “I’m five!”

“That’s right!” Steve laughs. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. That’s you.”

“Me!” Lily yells, pointing at her own picture. She was born on the same day and took after you, her eyes the same color as yours. They both took after their dad in terms of loudness.

Steve gasps. “Look at that! You’ve grown up so much!”

“Let’s add some more,” you say, sitting down on the floor, the rest of them following. Audrey climbs into Steve’s lap and Lily presses herself as close as possible so she can listen to him tell stories.

You pull out one that says Christmas, 1988. It was in the shape of a candy cane with a mouse propping it up. “This was our first Christmas together.”

“My mom bought us that,” Steve says, taking it from you. “So tacky.”

“What’s tacky?” Lily asks.

“It’s like when mom wore that neon green dress to prom.”

“Oh, shut up, Steve -“

“Here, go ahead and hang it Lil.” He passes it off to her and grabs another one. This one is a small wooden nutcracker. “This is from your house, right?”

“Yep. I think my first grade teacher gave me that.”

“Boring,” Steve says, handing it to Audrey. “Hide it somewhere.”

“You’re so mean!”

“Am not,” he says, leaning over to kiss your temple. “Just gotta keep the crowd entertained.”

You roll your eyes but smile. You grab another ornament - a snowman with a tiny picture frame. It had a picture of you and Steve in it from your second Christmas - Steve wore an extremely ugly sweater. “That’s tacky.”

“Yeah,” he says absentmindedly, taking it in his hands. “Girls, what do you think?”

“It’s my best picture of you and mom,” Audrey says, turning around in Steve’s lap to kiss his cheek. “Pretty.”

“Pretty,” Lily repeats. “Were you guys in lub?”

“In love? Yeah,” Steve smiles. “Or, I was, at least.”

“Oh, I was, too,” you assure him quickly. “I’d never been so in love. I still am.”

Steve smiles over at you while your daughters shout an awwwww!

“Was daddy, like, your prince?” Lily says, pushing herself harder into Steve to be closer.

“More like my knight in shining armor,” you say. They didn’t know about the Upside Down - and they hopefully never would - but Steve really was more like a knight than anything. And a prince. He’d saved your life in more ways than one. “Or, well, in a Members Only jacket.”

“I loved that jacket.”

“I did, too.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, leaning towards you again.

“Focus, daddy!” Audrey shouts, pulling his chin back towards the tree. Steve laughs and keeps going, grabbing ornaments and explaining their origins, then letting the girls put them on the tree. You leave after a while to make them hot chocolate, and the girls run into the kitchen, hugging your legs.

“Thank you mommy!” they say in unison.

“For what, babies?” you ask, grabbing their mugs.

“Hot choccy,” Audrey says, and you laugh - Steve says it that way and they’d both attached to it.

“We lub you,” Lily says, planting a kiss on your thigh.

Steve walks in, smiling. “I lub you, too,” he joins in, coming to lean on the counter next to you. You give their mugs and they leave, heading upstairs.

“Where’re they going?” you ask, handing Steve his mug.

“I told them they should go watch the Muppets,” he smirks, bumping his hips into yours. “Which means we are alone.”

“Interesting,” you smile. “That Members Only jacket comment must’ve really gotten to you, huh?”

“And the tree,” he says. “And you. And our pictures. I love you so much.”

You smile smugly. “The tree got you excited?”

“No,” he laughs, sitting his mug down so he could hug you. “I just love you. Okay?”

“I love you, too,” you sigh, pulling him in close. “Maybe we should watch Muppets.”

“We can,” he says, “but only if you sit by me.”

“Can do,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, even if you called my prom dress tacky.”

“And I love you, even if you lost my Members Only jacket when we moved.”

“That was not my fault and you know it!”

“Definitely was,” Steve says, nodding, a piece of hair falling over his forehead. “It’s okay. I still love you.”

You kiss him. “Love you too, Steve.”

===

steve tags: @harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @gothackedalready @sassisaluxury @ willowrose99 @harringtown @write-from-the-heart @m-blasterrr @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @the-almond-dinger @ssanjuniperoo @darth-el @kurtsbuckethat @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @astil-be @troop-scoop @ilovebucketbarnes @mybestfriendthedingus @unknownherelm @metuel18 @magnitude101999 @lukeskisses @bethhxrmon @stevenismyboy @flyingrichardgrayson @scoopsahoy @strangest-hour @lucifer-reads @stevexscoops @prettysbliss @patientplum @theworriedman @quentin-smith @nelson-and-murdock​ @pterawaters​ @mpmarypoppins​

[thecassadilla]

Thankful

Pairing: Kristanna

Word Count: 3,202/AO3

Summary: Anna and Kristoff have some special news to share with their family at Thanksgiving - though, the idea of sharing it brings forth some anxiety on Anna's behalf.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my contribution for Kristanna Week Day 2 - Orange! Funny story about this one - it came to me in a dream. Literally. I was having a really difficult time coming up with an idea for this prompt and then two weeks ago, I had a really vivid dream that involved Anna and Kristoff talking in their kitchen and preparing for Thanksgiving. Long story short, I was really giddy when I woke up because my subconscious brain did all of the thinking for me (except actually write the fic - when I figure out how to do that I’ll let you know lol). Enjoy!!!

“Okay, okay, okay,” Anna started, running her fingers through her hair. “We have one hour before everyone gets here.”

“Please calm down,” Kristoff begged. 

“I can’t help being nervous. The real question is, how are you not nervous?”

“I’m more nervous about the possibility of you breaking your ankles in those heels - why are you wearing them in the house?”

“I want to look nice.”

“You look great,” he assured her. 

“But you can tell? It’s obvious?”

“No I can’t tell. Your outfit does a great job of hiding it.”

Wearing a billowy top tucked into low-waisted pants seemed to have done the trick, just like the Internet said it would. Her hand fluttered to her abdomen and she looked down. “I can tell.”

He chuckled. “Because it’s your body. Of course you can tell.”

“My boobs,” she said suddenly. “They’re going to notice that my boobs are huge.”

“That would be a strange thing to talk about over Thanksgiving dinner.”

“They don’t have to talk about it, they just have to notice. And they’re going to notice when I’m not drinking, either.”

“I thought we were going to tell them today.”

“We could,” she faltered. “Or we could wait until Christmas.”

“You want to wait another four weeks?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

His face softened. “If that’s what you want, then we can wait.”

“I want to tell them, but I’m nervous. There’s really no harm in waiting, right?”

“Well, you’re already thirteen weeks. Fourteen weeks on Sunday. And the doctor said everything looked great last week. But if you really want to wait another month…”

She shook her head and exhaled. “You’re right, we should tell them today.”

“If you want, I’ll be the one to tell them. You can sit there and smile and hold my hand and you won’t have to say a word until they start congratulating us and asking questions.”

“Do you think I should be the one to tell them? You know, because I’m the pregnant one.”

“Whatever you want, Anna. We can do this however you want to.”

“We should probably start by taking the ultrasound pictures off of the fridge,” she said, rushing over to the fridge and pulling the pictures off. “Why did we decide to host Thanksgiving, again?”

“It was your idea,” he reminded her with a chuckle. “You wanted to show off the house.”

“Oh. Right.” She looked down at the pictures of their baby and smiled before holding them out to him. “Here, hide these somewhere.”

He took them. “I’m not going to hide them. Your sister will want to see them.”

“You have to put them somewhere for now. Unless that’s how you want to tell them - by thrusting pictures into their hands and saying ‘surprise, here’s a picture of the baby that’s going to come catapulting out of my wife in six months.’”

“You,” he said, wagging his finger at her and standing up, “are a very funny lady. I will put these in the dining room, where no one can see them, so that way when the time comes I can pull them out and show everyone.”

“Okay, and while you’re doing that, I’ll check on the turkey.”

“The turkey won’t be ready for another couple of hours,” he called as he walked toward the dining room.

“Then I’ll check to make sure the table is set.”

“You set it this morning,” he reminded her.

“Well I need something to distract me.”

She walked into the dining room and observed the set table; a cream colored tablecloth rested on the table, and on top of it was an orange runner decorated with beaded leaves. The table was exactly as she’d left it; five plates, five sets of cutlery, five cloth napkins, and five glasses. This time next year, there’d be a high chair. It was surreal to think about.

“I think you came to see where I was putting the pictures,” he teased.

“I didn’t, but where did you put them?”

“In the hutch.”

“What if my sister goes in there?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head. “Your sister is not going to rummage through our hutch.”

“No, but if she wants another plate, she may go in there.”

“Fine,” he said, opening the door and retrieving the pictures. “I will put them on top of the hutch. No one can reach it other than me, and no one has any reason to be looking for something on top of our furniture.”

“Okay,” she agreed with a sigh.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed, gently prodding her back towards the kitchen.

“That feels so good,” she moaned, tilting her head back. “Will you rub my feet later?”

“As you wish,” he promised, giving her one last squeeze before kissing her cheek. He washed his hands before walking over to the stove and turning off one of the burners. “And with those shoes, you’re definitely going to need it.”

“You could say that again.”

He walked over to the sink and drained the water from the pot he was holding, sending a cloud of steam into the air. “I really don’t think you should wear them.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He sighed, placing the pot back on the stove. “I’m going to finish up with the mashed potatoes, do you want to put the rolls in the oven?”

“Sure.”

“I figured we could eat the salad and the rolls first. And then we’ll heat up all of the sides again before we eat the main course.”

“There’s going to be so much food,” she commented, retrieving the baking tray from one of the cabinets and the dough from the refrigerator. 

“At least we’ll have plenty of leftovers.”

She arranged the dough on the tray before sticking it into the over. “When do you think we should tell them? When they first get here?”

“I don’t think we should set a designated time. I think we should just let it happen how it happens.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“And you have to try to act like yourself - they’re going to notice something’s up if you keep acting all...weird.”

“I know,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “I’m nervous and excited and overwhelmed.”

“It’s just Elsa, and Honeymaren, and Ryder. We know them. They’re going to be happy for us. Thrilled,” he assured her. “And frankly, I’m still kind of surprised that you didn’t tell your sister the moment the test came up positive.”

“I wanted to, but I also wanted to wait until we saw the doctor and confirmed that everything looked good. Maybe next time I’ll tell her right away.”

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself,” he warned with a chuckle. “How about we focus on the one who’s not even here yet instead of the next one?”

The doorbell rang before she could respond and she froze in place.

“Breathe,” he reminded her. “I’m going to get the door, you try to stay calm.”

“Okay,” she nodded. 

He held out two hands, instructing her to stay, before darting off to answer the door. The house was instantly flooded with voices and before she knew it, they were walking into the kitchen.

“Hi,” she smiled tensely. “I’m so glad you all came.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Honeymaren assured her.

“We brought a bunch of different desserts, and a sweet potato casserole with marshmallows, and green beans,” Elsa said excitedly, setting a bag down on the counter.

“We have just about everything else,” Kristoff chuckled. 

“And we brought wine,” Honeymaren added, patting the bag that was slung over her shoulder. “Lots and lots of wine.”

Anna and Kristoff exchanged a glance before Kristoff spoke up. “Actually we’re actually not drinking tonight, so there will be more for you guys.”

“What? Why?”

“Bet,” Anna answered quickly. “We’re trying to see who can go the longest without drinking alcohol and I am determined to win because the loser has to -”

“La, la la,” Ryder interrupted, placing his hands over his ears. “We don’t have to know what weird, kinky stuff the loser has to do.”

“I was going to say do all of the dishes for a month, but okay.”

“Sorry that my brother doesn’t have any manners,” Honeymaren said, glaring at the younger man. “I’m also sorry that he doesn’t know how to dress for special occasions.”

“I don’t understand why you’re all so dressed up for a holiday that’s about eating,” Ryder remarked. “You aren’t going to look so nice if you spill food on yourself and you’re going to wish that you wore stretchy pants by the end of the night.”

“I doubt any of us are going to spill food on ourselves,” Kristoff pointed out. “We’re all adults here.”

“I know...you’re really starting to look like a dad, man.”

Kristoff burst out laughing. “What on earth does that mean?”

Ryder motioned to his clothes. “I don’t know, you’re, like, wearing dad jeans and a sweater over a button-down. You look like your someone’s father. Or like your wife dressed you.”

“That’s enough,” Honey interrupted, placing a hand over Ryder’s mouth. 

“I’ll show you all to the dining room,” Anna said, changing the subject. “You can sit down and make yourselves comfortable, and we’ll bring in the salad and the rolls.”

She led them to the dining room, and they took their seats. Kristoff brought in as much as he could carry, setting it down on the table and then going back for more. 

“Help yourselves,” Anna insisted, returning to the kitchen for one last moment of solace. She placed a hand over her tiny belly, hoping that it would reassure the baby as much as it reassured herself. 

When she finally sat down a few minutes later, she was immediately overcome by an obnoxious odor, though she couldn’t place what the scent was. After a few more breaths, she realized that it was the vinaigrette that dressed the salad, which happened to be placed right in front of her on the table. Her nose was sensitive from the hormones and she knew that if she was forced to continue breathing the scent in, she would be very sick. She swallowed, attempting to breathe through her mouth so the smell of the vinaigrette wouldn’t upset her stomach any further. 

Elsa raised a concerned eyebrow. “Anna, are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” she answered shakily before abruptly standing up. “I’m just going to go check on the turkey.”

Three pairs of eyes watched as she practically ran from the dining room, before diverting their attention to Kristoff. “I’ll, uh, go make sure she’s okay.”

He found Anna standing over the sink, her hand clamped firmly over her mouth. 

“What’s the matter?” he whispered, glancing back to make sure that no one else had followed them into the kitchen.

“You have to move that salad away from me. The smell is making me sick.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “When we go back in there, I’ll move it.”

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, the nausea slowly but surely fading away. “I really should check on the turkey while I’m in here.”

“Take your time, there’s no need to rush.”

After a few more moments of controlled breathing, the nausea passed. She opened the oven, a burst of warm air hitting her in the face as she peered inside. “Oh, the timer thing popped out. I should take it out.”

She grabbed two oven mitts and leaned down to remove the pan from the oven, but Kristoff stopped her. “You shouldn’t be lifting something that heavy.”

“It’s not heavy at all.”

“Let me do it, please.”

“Fine,” she groaned, sliding the mitts off of her hands and thrusting them at him. 

He slid the pan out and placed it on the trivet that was laying on the counter. “We have to let it rest for a while before we can start carving it. Do you feel well enough to go back inside?”

“Yes,” she answered, taking one last deep breath. 

“Turkey’s done,” Kristoff announced to their guests when they returned. Said guests were staring at the couple with anticipatory eyes. “Is everyone done with the salad?”

A chorus of yes’s rang out, and Kristoff removed the dish from the table completely, bringing it back to the kitchen. Anna breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down, grateful that the smell had dissipated from the room.

“Are you okay?” Elsa asked again.

“Me? I’m fantastic,” Anna answered, an unconvincing laugh escaping from her throat.

“It’s just that you looked a little...unwell.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I swear, I’m fine.”

Elsa exchanged a sidelong glance with Honeymaren, but the conversation was dropped. The rest of the meal was spent discussing current events and shopping plans as opposed to Anna’s health. She mostly stood quiet, holding Kristoff’s hand under the table and allowing the gathering to happen around her as opposed to being a part of it.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet, Anna,” Honeymaren remarked with a smile.

“Hmm?” she hummed, her head snapping up. “Oh, sorry. I must’ve been daydreaming. What did I miss?”

“We were just talking about the trip Elsa and I went on to Alaska.”

“Oh right! How was that?”

“It was great,” Elsa piped up in a strained voice, and it became clear to Anna that she had missed the entire Alaska discussion. “We went to the Aurora Ice Museum, and the Running Reindeer Ranch, and we got to see the Aurora Borealis. It was a lovely trip.”

“That sounds really nice,” Anna smiled. 

Kristoff cleared his throat. “How about you all go relax in the living room? Anna and I will get things cleaned up in here and ready for dessert and then we’ll join you.”

“We can help,” Elsa offered. “It’ll be quicker.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted. “You’re our guests.”

The trio hesitantly stood up, exchanging a few harrowing looks before heading towards the living room. In the meantime, Anna and Kristoff collected all of the dirty dishes and silverware and brought them into the kitchen.

“Just put all of the dishes in the sink,” she directed. “That’s tomorrow’s problem.”

“Have you decided what we’re going to do?”

“About what?”

“The baby,” he whispered. “We’re telling them tonight, right?”

“Oh. Yes?” she said, her voice laced with uncertainty.

He cocked his head. “Anna.”

“What?”

“We have to tell them.”

“You’re right,” she nodded. “You’re absolutely right.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“When the time is right, though. It has to come up naturally.”

“Fine,” he agreed. “But if it doesn’t come up naturally, I’m going to spill the beans.”

“Deal.”

They wrapped up their chores in the kitchen, prepared the dining room table for dessert and headed into the living room to join the rest of the group. Ryder had made himself at home in the reclining chair, and Honey and Elsa had claimed part of the sectional to themselves. Anna and Kristoff sat at the opposite end, relaxing into the soft cushions.

“Anna, you’re going to love the dessert we brought,” Honeymaren said. “Chocolate cream pie!”

“Oh, I can’t eat chocolate. It makes me sick,” she responded nonchalantly. She didn’t realize what she’d said until the words had already escaped her lips, instantly growing flustered.

Elsa’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “What? Since when?”

She looked to Kristoff for guidance, and he offered her a small nod of encouragement before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She exhaled deeply before blurting, “I’m pregnant.”

“You are?!” Elsa exclaimed, bringing a shaky hand to cover her mouth. “That’s so wonderful, oh my god.”

“Congratulations,” Honey gushed.

Ryder pointed an accusatory finger at Kristoff. “I knew you were dressing like a dad for a reason!” 

Honey reached over and gently smacked him upside the head. “Ryder, stop being rude.”

“Oh, right. Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Anna smiled, all of her anxiety finally melting away. She looked over at Kristoff, who was smiling just as brightly. “Would you mind getting the pictures?”

He nodded, and made his way to the dining room to retrieve the pictures. 

“Can I hug you?” Elsa sniffled, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Of course,” Anna said, standing up. She pulled her older sister into her arms and hugged her tightly.

“I was worrying about you all night. I was convinced that you were really sick and didn’t want to spoil the holiday,” Elsa explained. “But I’m so, so happy for you and Kristoff.”

“Who wants to see the pictures?” Kristoff asked.

“Elsa first,” Honey insisted.

Elsa pulled away from her younger sister and accepted the pictures from her brother-in-law. “Oh my goodness,” she breathed. “How precious. 

“When are you due?” Honeymaren asked.

“Late May,” Anna answered with a smile.

“Are you going to find out the sex?’

“We haven’t decided yet. I want it to be a surprise but she wants to know,” Kristoff said, nudging Anna with his elbow.

“I’m a little impatient,” she giggled. “I really want to know.”

Elsa passed the pictures to Honey, who curled her lip at the sight of them. “Awww.”

“Wow, it actually looks like a baby,” Ryder commented as he peeked over his sister's shoulder to get a glance at the pictures.

“You’re never going to be invited here again,” Honey warned.

“Most importantly, how have you been feeling, Anna?” Elsa asked, ignoring the minor sibling squabble.

“I’ve been really feeling good aside from the morning sickness,” she laughed. “More like all day sickness - I can’t even smell certain things or I get sick. But other than that, I’ve been feeling really good.”

“I’m so happy for both of you,” Elsa said jovially. “I want to know everything.”

“How about we tell you everything over dessert?” Anna suggested. “Chocolate may make me sick, but I still have quite the sweet tooth.”

Elsa nodded, and Anna exchanged a relieved look with Kristoff. His reassuring smile reminded her that he’d been right all along; their family was thrilled and excited, and there had been nothing to worry about.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“My feet are so sore,” Anna whined, as she collapsed on the bed that night. “I hope you’re ready to make good on your promise, mister.”

“I’m ready,” Kristoff said, sitting at the foot of the bed. He took one of her feet in his hands and began to massage it. “Tonight went really well.”

“I know, I’m so happy,” she said, sighing contentedly and relaxing against her pillow. “And I’m so relieved that everyone knows now.”

“See?” he remarked. “And to think that you wanted to wait until Christmas.”

“What was I thinking?” she giggled. 

“You were worried. It’s normal.”

“Now I have one less thing to worry about,” she pointed out. “We don’t even have to worry about doing the dishes tomorrow anymore because my sister and Honey did them.”

“And we have a lot to be thankful for.”

She nodded in agreement. “I’m thankful for you, and the baby, and our incredibly supportive family.”

He smiled warmly, giving the foot in his hand a tight squeeze. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

[something-tofightfor]

Tipping Point - Two

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Julia Day ... Benjamin Greene x ?

Word Count: 7701

Rating: M (language, some mentions of sex, marital issues)

Summary: After a disappointing anniversary weekend, Benjamin reflects more on his relationship with his wife, how he’s feeling, and what he wants to happen moving forward. 

Author’s Note: Well, thank you for the positive feedback on the first part of this, it’s nice to know that this feels authentic to Benjamin and Julia. I’m actually already working on part 4 of this, and it feels great to be writing so much again. Cross your fingers for me! 

* I’m trying not to give too much about the show away for those that haven’t seen it, but I don’t feel like leaving out what I’ve left out ruins their story too much. All you need to know is that Benjamin had secrets - and so did Julia - which came out before their wedding... and both of them caused some major tension that neither of them has truly been able to move past.* 

His eyes rose from the book that he held in his hands, but Benjamin didn’t let himself look out of the window for too long. Focus. Nodding to himself, he returned his gaze to the pages, but like the previous hour, he wasn’t really reading. 

 Benjamin was replaying the previous two days in his mind, running through each minute that he’d spent with Julia. While he’d expected her to put up a fight about not conversing for the duration of the ride back to Devon, Julia had been understanding when he pulled the book out, reminding her how close he was to the end of his semester - and to his final thesis submission and defense. He’d only felt a little guilty using the work as an excuse to lose himself in his thoughts, but each of the times that he’d glanced up at her, the woman was staring at the screen of her phone, totally absorbed with whatever it was that she was watching. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like this weekend… like it didn’t happen. Flipping idly through the pages of text, Benjamin took a deep breath. 

 After the disastrous end to their anniversary dinner, he and Julia had headed to the lounge, ordering a round of drinks and then sitting in a booth. That hasn’t been as difficult as dinner had been, though Benjamin knew that it was likely because no one bothered them - it was just the two of them, low light and soft music. But his eyes wandered around the room when Julia left to use the restroom, or when she went to get them a second round, watching the other couples, the single customers talking and spending time with each other. They’re all relaxed. They’re all… enjoying themselves. Looking down at his left hand and the ring he wore, Benjamin bit back a frown. I shouldn’t feel like this. 

 They’d headed back to the flat, Benjamin again paying the cab fare and helping Julia from the vehicle and back into their place, but even that hadn’t gone as planned. She’d showered - declining his request to join her, and then nearly collapsed onto the bed next to Benjamin, barely leaning over to kiss him goodnight before she’d fallen asleep. He’d stayed awake long after her, watching as he slept, and by the time he’d finally nodded off, Benjamin was truly unsettled. It’s more than that, he realized when he woke up the next morning at nine, the bed empty next to him. She didn’t even wake me up. 

 He’d climbed out of bed, searching for Julia - and finding her on the balcony, phone pressed to her ear and a huge smile on her face. She’d been talking to Leo, making plans for Christmas, and even though he hadn’t asked her to hang up, she’d done so, explaining to Leo that Benjamin had finally woken up, and she was going to wait for him to make her breakfast. I did tell her I would. After they’d eaten and Benjamin took a quick shower, he presented her with a few options for what they could do throughout the day, all of which had seemed to bore her. 

 In the end, they’d foregone going grocery shopping, Julia waving off cooking in the flat in favor of eating in restaurants, and though he’d wanted to spend the time cooking with her, since some of their best memories started in their kitchen, he’d agreed to that, too. It’s her weekend, I’m just here for it. After wandering around London for a few hours, he’d surprised her with the museum, something that had caught her totally off guard. She’d kissed him thoroughly in thanks - the action sending a flood of warmth through him as they stood in the atrium of the building, but even that feeling had been short-lived. Her museum friends had been there, waiting to see her. When it became clear that the two hours he’d arranged to have with her wouldn’t be spent arm in arm with his wife while walking through the exhibits, Benjamin had excused himself, leaving Julia sitting in the staff room. The sound of their laughter had followed him as he made his way down the hall, Benjamin’s heartbeat thumping in his ears. 

 Instead of coming to find him, Julia called him to let him know that she was ready to go, and even though he’d entertained the thought of simply leaving the museum instead of meeting her, they’d exited onto Great Russell Street, Julia choosing the restaurant that she’d wanted to go to for dinner. He’d listened as she spoke throughout the meal, talking about the things that her friends and old coworkers had been up to, thanking him for giving her the chance to catch up with them. She didn’t even ask what I did while… 

 He cleared his throat, glancing back at Julia as she continued to watch her phone, eyes trained on the small screen. Unbelievable. He flipped a few more pages, using one hand to adjust the earbud in his right ear, and took a deep breath. This is…she… we... After dinner, she’d suggested walking next to the Thames before going back for the night, and Benjamin had agreed, excited at the prospect of her undivided attention, but even that had been interrupted as she took another call - this time from Patrick, who’d heard from Leo that she was in the city, and wanted to meet for lunch the following day at his place before they headed back to Devon. 

 Unable to say no, Benjamin’s mood had soured even further as they headed back to the flat, Julia talking quickly changing the conversation to the following day and how excited she was to have lunch with her family. Benjamin had been the one to suggest going to bed early that evening, though he’d held her close as he fell asleep, the fingers of one hand moving slowly up and down her arm. He’d slept well, despite knowing that the following day would be difficult, but to his surprise, lunch hadn’t been terrible. 

 Patrick and his wife had monopolized Julia’s time, leaving Benjamin to spend much of the afternoon with Charlotte, chasing her around the yard and pushing her on the swing set in the park, despite the chill in the air. Patrick had been cordial to Benjamin, and actually seemed impressed with the things that they’d done in the time they’d been in London, asking questions about Aqua and about the museum, Eimear telling her husband that they’d have to go at some point, too. 

 Benjamin hadn’t even corrected Julia when she’d talked about both places, not wanting to cause more issues by saying that they’d argued the first night and he’d been ignored the second. He’d pushed his glasses atop his head as in surprise when he heard in her tone that what she was telling Patrick about the time they’d spent together was what she believed to have happened. Even though it didn’t. 

 Patrick drove them to the train, hugging his mother goodbye and shaking Benjamin’s hand, and as they waited to board, he’d made the decision that he didn’t want to spend the few hours listening to Julia’s make-believe recap of their trip - that he’d rather be alone with his thoughts. I need to… figure this out. The light was changing, daylight fading into night, and Benjamin finally closed the book he’d pulled out, slipping it into his bag and leaning back against his seat, eyes going back to his wife. Am I just an afterthought to you, Julia? Just… someone to be there so you’re not alone? 

 He hated thinking that way about her, assuming the worst of her thoughts and actions, as she’d done to him at the beginning of their relationship, but the more he considered things, the more he worried that he was right. He loved her - he knew that much - and wanted to make things work with the woman across from him. But if we can’t even celebrate our anniversary without...His lips turning down into a frown, Benjamin blinked quickly as Julia laughed at something on her phone. What comes next? 

 --- 

 In the weeks following their trip, things had settled back into routine. Benjamin was spending long hours editing the final presentation, much of his time in the evenings spent in the office with his computer. Julia had started decorating the place for Christmas, knowing that everyone would be there for a few days beginning on the 24th, but he was oblivious to most of it. I need to finish this paper. Need to get through this presentation, and then… 

 Upon returning from their London weekend, Benjamin decided that he needed to sit down with Julia if things didn’t improve, finding a way to talk about what he felt was happening between them. But I’ll give it time. See if things get better while I work. She left him mostly alone, but even Benjamin had to admit that Julia seemed more distant than usual when they did interact with each other. Dinner conversations between them were forced, and though he told her that he loved her each morning and at night before sleep, the words felt hollow leaving Benjamin’s mouth, as did her replies. What happened to us, Julia? 

 He finished the section of paper that he was editing, taking a deep breath. Eight more pages, and I’m done. Benjamin saved his work and shut the device down, standing and stretching, fighting back a yawn. Hard to believe that I’m… He smiled as he looked at the computer, thinking about how hard he’d worked - fast tracking the program without taking time off, just wanting to finish his studies as quickly as possible. “Julia?” He called out to the woman as he left the office, trying to guess where she’d be. Kitchen. He smelled something baking, letting his nose lead him, and was happy to see his wife in the where he’d thought she was, an apron tied around her neck and waist, hair pulled back messily. “What’s baking, my l-”

 “Biscuits. Marsha’s been ill, and I thought… thought it would be a good time to visit.” She glanced at him, a tight smile on her face. “You know how that is, trying to mend fences with old friends.” No, I don’t have… all I have is… Swallowing hard, he stepped forward, reaching up to brush flour from her cheek, eyes focused on the movement of his finger. “Hands are cold, Benjamin, did you crack the window again?” I did. He nodded once, lowering his head as he chuckled. “Of course you did.” 

 She pulled out of his reach, turning back to the countertop and her mixing bowls, and he walked to the refrigerator, pulling the door open. Let’s see what’s in here. He rummaged around, pulling out a chunk of cheese and a covered dish of deli meat, ready to make a sandwich. “I’ve only got one more section to edit, Julia.” He closed the door, pulling a drawer open and reaching for bread. “Just under ten pages, and then it’s done. I just have to submit and defend it, and then I’m done. He spread the dressing first, adding toppings without looking away from his hands. “I should be able to turn it in the day after tomorrow, and then… then I wait, and -”

 “So you won’t neglect me anymore, Benjamin?” Her voice was quiet, but he heard the accusation in it. “You’ve been working on that damn paper so much lately.” Well, yes, it’s … I’m almost done. “We haven’t spent time together, and it’s like… it’s like it’s more important than…”

 “It is important to me. Once I’ve finished, I’ll have… so many career opportunities will open up for me, and I’ll be able to… stand alone, you know? Have … something that’s mine.” She knows this, knows it’s what I want. “You’re the one that encouraged me to register in the first place, I didn’t think that it would be such a…” He put the ingredients away, cutting the sandwich in half diagonally before he put the knife in the sink. “You know why this is important to me, Julia.” Please understand. “And once this is turned in, and I’ve defended it, I’ll be all yours again, ready to -”

 “Just in time for the holidays, then?” She spun toward him, a mixing spoon in one hand. “Or will you start looking for a job right away, something to get you out of the -”

 “No.” Sandwich forgotten, Benjamin moved toward the woman, reaching for her. “No, Julia, I know how important the holidays are to you. I’ll wait until the new year to start looking, but I thought you wanted me to -”

 “They are. My whole family’s here for Christmas, and I want this year to be perfect.” She pressed her lips together, frowning. “And something’s been different between us, Benjamin. The last month, it’s been… I feel like we’re not…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I feel like you don’t love me anymore.” Is this an opening? He pulled her into his arms, feeling both of hers go around him, and the two stood silently in the kitchen, Benjamin’s eyes open as he stroked the back of his wife’s head. This is my opportunity. We can save this. 

 “I feel it too, Julia.” He spoke quietly, wanting to be sure of his words. “Something has been… off.” His heart racing, he felt her shift in his arms, stepping backwards. “It’s been longer than a month, though, I…” We have to start somewhere. “I do love you, very much, but it’s been hard to feel… wanted Julia, with both of us being so busy, and you choosing, well, choosing everyone else over me.” 

 “What?” She raised her voice, eyebrows shooting up. “Choosing everyone over you? What are you talking about?” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Just say it. 

 --- 

 Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting at the table, Benjamin’s hands flat against the wood, Julia’s clasped together in front of her. She was quiet, staring down, and Benjamin could do nothing but wait. I said it. That’s what’s important. He’d been sure to let the woman know that he loved her, that he was saying what he was saying because he wanted to do whatever was possible to fix it, to let her know where he was seeing issues - with himself and with her behavior. Telling her that he felt ignored and overlooked, like she took his presence for granted sometimes, reminding her that nothing he did ever seemed good enough for her, Benjamin had chosen each syllable carefully, maintaining eye contact. Don’t blame her, just tell her. Don’t … 

 She’d stayed largely quiet, which had surprised him, only asking for specific examples, and though she hadn’t apologized or admitted to anything, Benjamin took the silence as promising. But is it? “So.” She sniffed, bringing her eyes up to meet his. “So this is all my fault, then?” No, that’s not what I said, not at all. “I’m the only one that has to make concessions in this relationship? I’m the one to blame for both of our behavior? All of the problems?” 

 “No.” He spoke sharply, cutting her off. “That isn’t what I said, Julia, but you weren’t listening, because if you had been, you’d hear that I know you’re not fully to blame. This is a relationship - a marriage - a partnership, and I’ve been feeling a lot like it’s one sided.” He took a breath. “I said I want to work on this, I want to be with you. I said I’d be with you for the rest of my life, and I meant it, I just want to feel like that promise wasn’t going to result in me constantly feeling as though no matter what I do, it’s not good enough for you.” She stayed quiet, and he continued. “You haven’t told me that you love me without prompting in months, Julia. You were more interested in celebrating your birthday than the day that we met, and after I had to reschedule plans that I’d made, you accused me of forgetting about you, even though it felt like you’re the one that forgot about me.” And it’s more than that one time, it’s all the time, it’s… 

 “That’s how you feel?” Quiet and even, her words reached his ears. “Like I forget about you? Like I’m not in this with you?” He nodded, knowing that it was safer to do so than to give no reaction. “I could have lost my family to be with you. I could have ruined my relationships with my children for you, and yet… you say these things to me?” She blinked, and he saw that her eyes were glassy, though there were no tears falling. She doesn’t get it. “I forgave you, Benjamin, for lying to me about so many things, married you, gave you… years of my life.” She laughed, the sound bitter. “And I tell you that you seem to be pulling away from me, and this is what I get? You attacking me? Telling me about my shortcomings?” 

 “Julia.” He paused. “Look at me.” She didn’t, and he reached out, putting one of his hands over hers. “Come on, please.” She finally met his eyes. “I’m telling you this because I want to work on these things, to figure them out. With you. I want to fix this, because we…” He scrubbed his free hand over his face. “We owe it to each other, Julia. Not to let this go, not to end it, not to…” She was crying, the tears leaking from her eyes. She might actually care. “Not to give up.” He wrinkled his nose. “I wanted to wait, wanted to tell you that this was how I felt after I’d finished with school, because I didn’t want distractions, and -”

 “I’m a distraction?” She pulled her hands from beneath his, the bitter laugh escaping again. “If that’s the case, then…”

 “No.” He said her name again, force behind it. “No, I meant that my thesis would be a distraction, and I wanted it to be done and out of the way before we even started talking about this, because it deserves our focus. It deserves … everything.” Julia’s eyes widened at the admission. “You deserve…”

 “I do.” She stood, turning back toward the oven. “We’ll talk about this more once you’ve finished school, Benjamin.” She checked the oven, pushing the button to add a few more minutes to the timer. “It would be a shame to waste all of that progress.” He stayed sitting at the table, shocked at her abrupt change in demeanor. “Eat that sandwich, there’s no reason to waste it.” 

--- 

 The next three weeks passed quickly, Benjamin submitting his thesis on time and setting up a time slot to defend it that would allow him to finish his academic career at the beginning of the second week of December. He’d been nervous, but felt that his defense had gone well; Julia hadn’t shown up in the gallery, but she’d been waiting in the hallway when he’d finished, explaining that she’d arrived too late to be let in, and that she was sorry she’d missed it. I believe her. They kissed quickly, Julia taking his hand and leading him out of the building, offering to buy him lunch before they returned home, and with the coursework done and nothing but waiting left, Benjamin felt lighter than he had in weeks. 

 Except for when it came to his marriage. Though they’d had more good days than bad, the relationship was strained to say the least. On most days, it felt  to him like they were simply going through the motions. They still slept in the same bed, but each of the times that they’d attempted any intimacy more than kisses, he’d felt little more than a vague interest in the act, though Julia had been into it, leading him instead of waiting for him to take control. What does that mean? They hadn’t spoken in detail about the faults in the relationship since the night at the table - at least not to each other - but he knew that she’d confided in at least one friend about him, since the night she’d come home from getting dinner with her, Julia’s attitude toward him had been much different. 

 He’d thought that even though she was giving him time to do what he needed to do, they’d at least set small goals - spend 30 minutes a day together doing something that they both enjoyed, find time to sit down and talk to each other about their lives, shop for the holiday … but their lives continued to separate instead. Benjamin wasn’t sure if Julia was giving him space so that he wasn’t distracted, but each time he looked at her, he felt less and less sure of their future, less sure that they’d ever be able to recover. But now I’m done with my degree, now we can focus. 

 He had a list of reputable relationship therapists, had spent hours looking up methods for improving relationships when they were strained, but each time he even got close to bringing anything up to the woman, she changed the subject - talking about something that she’d seen the store, something that she’d talked to one of her friends about, somewhere she wanted to go or something that she needed to buy. She’s avoiding it. I’m trying to face it, and she’s… 

 Five days after defending his thesis, Benjamin was sitting in the library when Julia came home from Christmas shopping, her arms laden with packages. He hurried from the room to help her, intercepting her at the door and pulling bags and boxes into his own arms, asking where she wanted them. “In great room, for now.” She was breathless, cheeks pink from the cold. “I’m going to wrap everything as soon as possible.” He set the items down, eyes moving over what she’d brought in, and Benjamin frowned. 

 “I thought you were done shopping? We set a budget between us for gifts, and you’ve been shopping for your kids since -”

 “Well yes, I was done.” Julia stepped closer to Benjamin, reaching up to put her hand against his cheek. “But then I…” She smiled at him - the expression genuine - before she continued. “But Leo called earlier today, and… he’s coming to stay back here for a few weeks, and he’s bringing someone with him.” What? He blinked, speechless. Leo’s coming to stay here? But how will we… “He’s started seeing someone, and they’re both done with school until the middle of January, so I agreed that they could stay here during break. Leo was thrilled, said he couldn’t wait for me to meet her, and I’m sure he….Benjamin, what’s the matter?” He took a breath, focused back on the woman. 

 “Julia, how are we going to work on…” He opened his mouth, jaw working, and she dropped her hand, staring up at him. “We’ve got to start thinking about what we talked about, or I’m afraid…” 

 “It’s going to have to wait, Benjamin. It’s Christmas, and I can’t deny my son a place to stay in his home.”

 “You could have told him that weeks was too long.” He felt himself stiffen, heart rate increasing. “You knew that we were supposed to start working on things as soon as I was done with school. I’ve been looking up options, and wanted to sit with you and talk them over.” His chest tightened, and Benjamin raised a hand to it, fingers splayed against the front of his sweater. Breathe, Benjamin. Breathe. “We have to work on this, Julia, we can’t just pretend-” 

 “We’ve been doing better, I thought … I thought it could wait.” He heard desperation in her voice, a plea for him to agree with her. “I thought we could just get through the holidays and then start thinking about what we should… what we…” She wants it to go away, wants to just let this sit and never… “We just need time, Benjamin, time to realize…” 

 “To realize what Julia?” He shook his head. “We don’t need time, we need help, we need to listen to advice and work through this in a way where we’re not just snapping at each other and shoving things off.” He forced himself to breathe, to focus on a spot just over her shoulder - one of the paintings on the wall. “This can’t wait, Julia. I can’t wait. We can’t wait.” Chest rising and falling rapidly, he looked at her again. Say it. Say it now. “I can’t feel like this for another month before we even st-”

 “After Leo and his girl leave, we’ll...we’ll look into things, Benjamin. Just give me Christmas. Give me this time with my family. I need to…”

 “And I need you, Julia. My wife. My partner, the woman who promised to love me and listen to me and work with me. Please.” 

 “We can’t argue like this in front of them, and we can’t let them know that things are…” Her voice faded as Benjamin felt his knees buckle, though he fought to stay upright. She doesn’t care. She’s not listening. She won’t… she’s made up her mind. He thought back through their relationship, back to all of the times that they’d faced difficulty, all of the issues they’d worked through. The years flashed before his eyes; Julia’s face a mask of anger and disappointment when they fought, his defeated tone when he agreed with her to end the disagreements, the brief moments of  happiness, the recent hurt he felt thinking that they meant very different things to each other. She doesn’t want to save this unless it’s on her terms. “And we’ll have to act like …”

 “Julia.” He swallowed, lowering his head for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Julia, I’m not pretending. Not with you, not with them. It will make it so much worse if they feel like they can pick this apart.”

 “They won’t, it’s Christmas.” Doesn’t matter. It’s never stopped them before. “Benjamin, it’s just a few weeks, and maybe we’ll realize that -”

 “No. Don’t do that.” He stepped closer, arms hanging by his sides. “This isn’t just going to go away, it’s not going to get better because we want it to. There is a problem here, Julia, and we’re not going to solve it by playing house while we celebrate your cookie cutter Christmas. Your kids still don’t accept me, and the moment they see a single problem, it’s -”

 “Then we won’t fight, Benjamin. We’ll make it so -”

 “We won’t fight, Julia.” He stared at her, realizing what he needed to do. “It’ll be hard to fight if I’m not here.” She gasped, one hand going to her mouth. “I’m not leaving you, not for good.” Not yet. “But I can’t think of any other way to make you understand that I’m serious about this.” He reached out, taking her hand in his and squeezing. “Spend the holidays with your children, Julia. It’ll make you happy.” Benjamin’s head moved up and down, slowly. “I’ll come back for Christmas, spend the day with you, but if we’re not going to do anything about this now, we both need time to think.”

 “What will I tell them?” Her voice didn’t waver. “When they ask where you are, what am I going to say?” Not “where will you go” or “please stay, we’ll start looking into things now.” You’re worried about what they’ll think. “Benjamin?” 

 “You’ll figure it out. Just … just let me know what you decide, so that I don’t blow your cover.” She almost smiled at that, but he continued without acknowledging it. “Just give me … I need to figure out where I’ll stay.” I hope there’s someone I… “Julia?” She stared up at him, waiting. “This isn’t forever, and I don’t want it to be, but I want..” What do I want? “I want to make sure that we want the same things.” 

 --- 

 “C’mon Greene. Just get dressed.” He raised his head from the pillow, eyeing the door. “We’ve got to leave in twenty, just put on a clean shirt.” Benjamin sighed, shifting into a sitting position. “You act like I’m forcing you to go on a date instead of just getting out of my flat for a night.” 

 “I know.” Benjamin ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “I’m just…”

 “Look, you’ve been here for a week, and you’ve asked her how many times if you should go back so you can talk.” Benjamin nodded. A few. “And she’s telling you to come back for Christmas, but… Benjamin.” Zac stepped into the room, arms crossed. “She hasn’t said sooner, so you need to give it up for a night. Come out with me and Bianca for a few hours and just ...I don’t know, spend some time with people y...us.” People my own age, you mean. Benjamin sighed, staring at his friend. Zac had been more than willing to let Benjamin stay with him for a few weeks when the situation had been explained, and for that he was grateful. It’s just a party. Just some people, just some…

 “Alright. Let me change.” Benjamin stood, moving over to the formerly empty closet, where he’d hung some of the clothing he’d brought. Though he’d left the majority of his things in Devon, planning on going back relatively quickly, Benjamin’s closet at Zac and Bianca’s was about as full as it had been before he’d moved in with Julia. Brings back memories. He wrinkled his nose as he looked through his options, hand settling on a dark maroon jumper. “How many people are going to be there tonight, Zac?” He looked over his shoulder, noticing that his friend was still standing where he’d last been, a small smile on his face. 

 “Just a few. Us, my mate James, his fiancee, a few friends from work that you know.” Zac shrugged. “You’ll like Eric, it’s his place we’re going to.” Benjamin thought hard, pulling the material from the hanger. “He cooks, Greene. Trust me. It’ll be a good time.” Benjamin laughed, removing the shirt he was wearing and pulling the jumper over his head, feeling the material settle against his skin. “Alright, we’ll be waiting, whenever you’re ready.” Zac turned and left the room, leaving Benjamin alone, his eyes on his reflection in the mirror. 

 He looked like himself - felt more like himself than he had in months; he hadn’t gotten his hair cut since before he’d defended his thesis, hadn’t thinned his beard out in almost as long. What’s the point? Julia’s the one that liked it so short, and I’m not seeing her now. He sat back on the edge of the bed, reaching absently for his phone, but there were no new messages. He texted his wife daily, and she responded quickly about half the time, the other messages going unanswered for hours before she sent back a few words as a reply. “Damn.” He hung his head, thinking. He’d kept her updated with his activities in London, sending her pictures and voice notes, wanting to prove to her that he’d been honest when he said he wanted to make it work - that their separation was only temporary. 

 But Julia’s reaction to those things was more of the same, Benjamin noticing that she was more than happy to fill their conversations with updates on her own life, on what she was doing, asking him the bare minimum about his time away from their home. She always steered the conversation away from them working through things when Benjamin brought it up, so he’d stopped trying as often, instead focusing on the few minutes he got to speak with her and trying to stay as positive as possible. On many days, it was a losing battle and he spent hours analyzing the relationship - and the way it had changed in such a short time. 

 As the holidays got closer, Benjamin felt little of the happiness that he thought he would, and even though Zac and Bianca were great company, he missed the companionship he’d felt - even during their most strained days - with Julia. But do I miss her, or do I miss… being with someone? He glanced down at his phone once more - the lock screen a picture that he’d taken on their honeymoon - and closed his eyes. It’s one night. Stop thinking about this, have a few drinks and catch up with everyone. Worry about this tomorrow. He stood, slipping his phone into his pocket and grabbing his jacket from the back of the desk chair and pulling the bedroom door closed behind him. Moving down the hallway, Benjamin slipped his arms into the sleeves, taking a breath. “Alright, guys, let’s go.” 

--- 

 Within a few minutes of getting to Eric’s place - a first floor flat in Paddington - Benjamin felt better, relaxing with a bottle of beer in his hand, and settling into conversation with James, Zac and Max, one of the coworkers. The room was full but not crowded, a small decorated tree in the corner and colorful lights strung up around the sliding glass door making it cozy. I like this. He looked around during a break in conversation, eyes moving over the walls. Bigger than my old place, and much nicer, too. “You’re staying with Zac?” James leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you’d had enough of London.” Benjamin gritted his teeth and fought to keep from snapping at the man. He doesn’t know. 

 “Oh, I have.” Benjamin took a long drink of beer, gesturing with one hand. “My wife’s getting the house ready for her kids to come stay for Christmas, and I thought I’d take some time to come back, start looking for jobs, give her a chance to get things done without me in the way.” Not technically a lie, she’s getting ready for them, and I am looking for work. “They had the space, so…” He shrugged. “Here I am. I’ll be back in Devon soon.” James nodded, Zac and Max’s expressions neutral. Well. Benjamin finished his beer and stood, glancing at the people near him. “Anyone need another?” They shook their heads no, already moving on to a different topic, and Benjamin walked over to the kitchen area, the countertop covered in various foods. He picked through some of them, popping a pastry shell with baked brie and pomegranate into his mouth before he opened the refrigerator door, reaching in for another drink. 

 “Mind grabbing me one, too?” He heard the voice from behind him and nodded, looking back over his shoulder. 

 “Yeah, what kind?” There was a pause, laughter coming from the couch. “There’s -” The person speaking - a young woman - stepped closer, peering around Benjamin and into the open refrigerator. 

 “Oh, I know what’s in there, I bought ‘em earlier.” She’s American. She pointed. “One of the Leffes is good, but you’ll need to find a bottle opener, they’re not twist offs.” Benjamin pulled one of the bottles out and then another for himself - an Anspach and Hobday Smoked Brown - setting them both down on the counter and reaching into his pocket. “Where … oh, you’ve got a …” She laughed, waiting as Benjamin used the bottle opener on his keys to remove the caps, turning to hand the girl her drink. “Thanks.” Tilting her bottle forward, she clinked the neck of it against his before raising it to her lips and taking a sip. “You know my brother?” Brother? Benjamin frowned, tilting his head. “Eric. This is his apartment.” Ah. 

 “I just met him tonight, I’m actually here with Zac and Bianca, I’m staying with them.” He looked her over as he spoke, noticing for the first time that she wasn’t dressed like she intended to stay out with the group, looking comfortable in an oversized t shirt and sweats. Where did she come from? I didn’t see her before. “I’m Benjamin. Benjamin Greene.” Switching his beer to his left hand, he wiped the right on his thigh before he stuck it out. “You are?” She introduced herself, repeating the motion before she stuck her own hand out, and Benjamin’s fingers closed around hers. “Are you living here with him?” 

 “God, no. I’m just here for a week, we’re flying home together to spend the holidays with our parents, but I haven’t been to London before, and I figured that seeing it at Christmas would be worth it.” It is. The city is beautiful this time of year. Benjamin took another drink, opening his mouth to speak again when Eric interrupted him, throwing his arm around the girl’s shoulders. 

 “I see you’ve met my sister, Benjamin.” He felt himself grinning, nodding his head. “She said she wasn’t going to come out because she’s still jetlagged, but I see that food and beer have made her reconsider.”

 “Can’t say I blame her, Eric.” Benjamin reached for another of the small tarts, lifting it. “These are amazing.” The dark haired man shrugged, wrinkling his nose, still holding onto the girl.

 “There’s more to me than theoretical physics, what can I -” She groaned, sliding out from under her brother’s arm and stepping closer to Benjamin, reaching around him for a plate, which she quickly loaded up with snacks. 

 “Eric, no one cares.” Benjamin stifled a laugh, eyes flicking to her where she stood next to him, plate in one hand and the fingers of it curled the neck of the beer bottle beneath it. “I’m going back to my room now, I’ve already heard all about your -” Both men laughed and the girl rolled her eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Benjamin. Don’t let him get talking about… what is it, quantum field theory? The semester’s over, just be normal for a few days.” That’s what a real relationship with a sibling is like. He felt himself frown slightly, but Benjamin quickly recovered, lifting an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth at her. 

 “Great meeting you, too. If you need a bottle opener, you know where to find me.” She winked at him and then raised her plate slightly before turning and heading back down the hall, Benjamin realizing that she’d been in one of the bedrooms the whole time. “I didn’t even know anyone else was here.” Eric stepped forward, filling his own plate. 

 “Yeah, she just landed this morning, said she wanted to relax, that she didn’t know if she’d be out here with us.” Eric popped a tortilla chip into his mouth, chewing quickly. “She’s got those noise canceling headphones, though, she can’t hear anything if she wants to sleep.” He glanced at Benjamin, taking a breath. “And believe me, I know that Zac and Bianca can get loud when they’re drinking.” They sure can. “I’m glad you came, Benjamin. Good to put a name to the face.” Zac talks about me? What does he say?  “Anyway, there’s a ton of food. Eat. Drink. Take a cab home. Sleep on my couch. I don’t care.” 

 --- 

 A while later, Benjamin was tipsy, having played a few hands of cards with Eric and Bianca, the party spilling out onto the patio every now and then for everyone to get air. He was surprisingly having a good time, glad that his friends had convinced him to go out. He’d stopped himself twice from pulling his phone out to check for messages, rationalizing that if that night was the night she decided she wanted to talk, he didn’t care. I said we needed time to think, and this is thinking. This is living. This is… normal. Benjamin excused himself again onto the balcony, leaving everyone in the flat behind him to start a new game. The air was crisp but not freezing, and it hadn’t snowed yet, meaning that there were still plenty of people moving over the sidewalks and heading in and out of the stores on the street below. 

 He took a deep breath, raising his eyes to the sky. I’ll check my phone now. It - “We’re from Chicago.” He heard the voice again from his left - Eric’s sister - and turned his head toward it, seeing that she was on an adjacent balcony, leaning on the railing, bare arms crossed. “Well a suburb of Chicago, we’d have to take a train to get there, but…” She sighed. “This is different. I like it, though.” 

 “Chicago… isn’t that where the Sears Tower is?” She stepped closer to him, turning her head toward him and lifting one hand to rest her chin on it. 

 “It’s called the Willis Tower now, but yeah. And Navy Pier and the Bean and…” She stopped herself. “Anyway. It’s a lot quieter here than it would be there, but I feel like there’s more to do here than in my city, you know?” He bit back a smile, straightening up. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I was just…” She sighed, standing. “Where do you live, Benjamin?” She hasn’t called me Ben, she uses my full… “In the city?” He thought for a few moments, ready to answer when he saw her shiver, pressing her lips together to hide it. Even in the low light, he saw he motion. She’s cold. 

 “You should put a jacket on, it’s cold, and you -”

 “Nah, I’ll just go inside.” She eyed him for a few seconds. “I’m sure you’re leaving soon anyway, you’ll want to get back to them.” He looked back into the room, watching as his friends moved around in the living room, still playing cards and talking. “What?” I could.

 “If you want to keep talking, I’m more than happy to.” His words surprised him, but he took the few steps toward where she stood, raising one hand to the back of his head. “I probably shouldn’t drink much more tonight, and it looks like they’re not quite done yet, so we could be here a while.” She considered his words, glancing down and then back up. 

 “It’s pretty cold out here, so…” She swallowed. “Look, I know you don’t know me, and I know how it looks if you just disappear down the hallway to a bedroom, but there’s really nowhere else to talk.” That would look bad. Benjamin frowned again. But it’s just talking, I don’t want… “There are three beds in here, so we can each sit on a different one. Don’t ask me why, but that’s how it’s set up.” What? “I see the ring on your finger, Benjamin, I’m not trying to…” He looked down, flexing his hand. Yeah. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have -”

 “No, it’s fine.” It is. He smiled at her. “First door?” She widened her eyes, nodding. “Give me a few minutes, I’ll be there.” Glancing in the flat again, he shrugged his shoulder. “Just gotta talk to your brother again.” She groaned, muttering ‘good luck’ under her breath and he watched as she disappeared back through the door and into the bedroom. Benjamin stared out into the night, thinking. It had been months since he’d last had a night out with his friends, last done what he wanted to do. I’m here already, there’s no harm. Benjamin slid his hand into his pocket, phone emerging with it a few seconds later. 

 He pressed the home button, screen illuminating. No messages. No missed calls. He swore under his breath, darkening the device and stuffing it back into his pocket. Julia would have been furious if she’d known that he was thinking about being in a room alone with a woman his own age, but Benjamin realized that he was more frustrated with the lack of communication with his wife than he was worried about the way speaking with the young woman would look. I shouldn’t feel guilty about making a friend. Decision made, Benjamin stepped back inside, looking for Eric. 

 Everyone had switched to a trivia game on the TV, Bianca, Max and James’ fiancee Ellie on one team, James, Zac and Eric on the other. “Eric.” Benjamin called the man’s name, waiting until he’d stood to speak again. “I just talked to your sister on the balcony.” Eric’s eyes brightened. What’s that about? “We started talking, but she didn’t have a jacket on.” 

 “Sounds like her.” Eric took a swig of beer. “And?” 

 “I’m just about done drinking, and it seems like you lot aren’t, so she asked if I wanted to keep talking to her inside.” Eric didn’t react, so Benjamin continued. “I just wanted to let you know, since I just met you, that I’m married, and your s -”

 “Benjamin.” Eric reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. She’s an adult. You’re an adult. No one’s going to think anything of it.” Julia would. She would think… “There’s a huge difference between someone trying to get with my sister and someone talking to her, but damn, you don’t need to clear it with me, either way.” That’s direct. “It’s fine. I’m gonna kick everyone’s ass at trivia.” Eric didn’t say another word, instead heading back to the couch and sinking down next to James. Huh. 

 Taking the first step toward the hall, Benjamin paused, turning back to the refrigerator. Opening it, he pulled out two additional bottles of beer, holding them both in one hand. One more won’t hurt. Eyes scanning the counter, he reached out, also picking up the opened bag of tortilla chips. You’re not doing anything wrong. 

 Bypassing his friends - who were deep in discussion about movie titles - Benjamin walked down the hallway, pausing in front of the first door, which was cracked open. Using the bottom of one beer bottle, he knocked against it, watching as it swung into the room. “Hey, brought you another beer.” As he walked in, she turned away from the glass door - which was closed - and stepped toward him, reaching out with one hand.

 “Thanks, Benjamin,” you replied, gesturing to his pocket. “Looks like I’ll need that bottle opener again.” 

---

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[tookishcombeferre]

Klaus Fanfic: “A Tether”

I wrote a self indulgent thing for the Klaus 2019 fandom. Klaus is a Christmas movie. I’m trying to be sensitive and not post too much Christmas stuff.

But, I really like this movie, and it was an Oscar nom. The art is phenomenal, and I really like the characters.

That being said, obvs you don’t have to read it.

This is sort of a self projection fic? I wrote about Alva reflecting on the Spanish Flu of 1918 in a teacher’s point of view because I am burnt the fuck out.

“I haven’t heard from Jimmy Krum in 2 weeks. I’m worried. He said in his last letter that his family wasn’t doing well. He was trying to help his son apply for some kind of boarding school program in the city that I recommended last year.” Alva ran a hand across her face as she spoke to herself pacing across the floor of the post office attic. “Although, I can’t remember if he said they might wait until he turned 11 next year or not to send him out.”

“And you probably won’t hear from him until I can safely get out there again. I won’t let you go out. You’ve only just recovered.” Jesper opened the hatch to the attic and stuck his head through. “Go rest.”

“Jesper you know I can’t. I’ve been cooped up for so ...” Alva bit back a cough. “And you’re one to talk!”

“Nice save. Really, you are so convincing. I’ve been fever and cough free for a week. You on the other hand ...” He sat next to her, pulled her close, and kissed her temple. “Need to stop worrying. Everyone is fine. You sent enough homework with me to them, before we all boarded up, for two years. I promise.”

Alva sighed, and she supposed he was right. But, it didn’t stop her worrying. Despite the phone being a relatively old invention, most families in Smeerensberg didn’t own one. She couldn’t call and check in on kids the way she’d like to. Sure, some of the more well to do families had a phone, and she made good use of theirs to call those she could call. Jesper had to remind her to slow down often, especially in those first months of the pandemic, when they were still debating boarding up.

The town eventually chose to shut down after Jesper could no longer deliver the mail. He’d only stopped his deliveries when his own children got sick. This had been in late October.

The kids had gotten the flu, somehow, despite all their precautions. Then, for Alva, it seemed that everything really was over. She and Jesper were up at all hours of the night comforting their children. Alva had never seen Jesper cry so hard as she did when he thought he was alone on the phone with his own father. Jesper’s father was lucky enough to be spared the worst of the illness, and he was in sound enough headspace to listen to his son’s terrified sobbing for nearly an hour before Alva finally stepped in. She had listened to him cry begging for the illness to take him instead of his children, and Alva simply cried with him. There wasn’t much else they could do besides try to nurse their children as best they could and cling to one another in desperation.

In about two weeks, the children had recovered enough that they felt safe sending them to live with Espen Krum. Epen’s son had just recovered from the illness and war wounds, and Espen was more than happy to take in two young children that would cheer his son up for sure. Alva remembered how the thought of the two kids living there for awhile made Jesper smile. They both recalled how Jesper mailed the love letters back and forth between young Broderick Krum, the first toy recipient, and Greta Ellingbow during his time in The Great War.

Alva couldn’t help but be thankful that they’d sent the children away before they had the opportunity to see their father in the worst throws of the illness. Alva knew the illness preyed on healthy people almost more than those who had reasons for complications. She shuddered at the images of Jesper’s thrashing as he cried for his father, for her, and for Klaus. He begged her forgiveness as he sat trapped in the memory of all those Christmas Eve’s ago. She stayed with him as he begged Klaus’ understanding, promised he’d changed, and pleaded with her to still love him despite it all. Gone was the loving goofiness of the man who tucked their children in with jokes about stamps and letters. In its place, her strong husband shook with terror, and his fears of abandonment were laid bare before her. It was two weeks of caring for Jesper, and reassuring their children, before Jesper finally recovered enough for her to be satisfied.

It was only then, when she felt certain of his recovery, that her body finally succumbed to the illness. She had little recollection of the two weeks she was tended to by her husband, but he’d assured her that she hadn’t said anything too damning, and on the whole, she was more compliant than when she was healthy. He’d called the children faithfully each night, and he remained by her side all the other moments of the day. He rested with her, and he kept her cool. She still remembered just days ago, in the very first days of December, when she finally woke up and saw his face.

His eyes had sparkled with tears as he looked at her and whispered, “I knew you could do it.”

“Alva? Yoo-hoo?” Jesper waved a hand in front of her face.

Alva blinked herself back to the present moment.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about Lydia and Willem. It’ll be good to have the kids back before the holiday.” Alva leaned into Jesper’s shoulder.

He hummed his agreement. “Yes. Oh! Speaking of which. I have a surprise.”

Jesper helped his wife to her feet and guided her down the ladder and into their living room.

“Surprise!” He placed his chin on her shoulder. “I decorated it while you were sleeping.”

Alva smiled. It was far simpler than most years. The four stockings were hanging on the fire place. The tree was wrapped in a small amount of garland and maybe half of their ornaments were put up. She noticed the cookie plate already waiting with two glasses set out for the annual appearance.

Alva turned and stared at Jesper. “I sometimes wish he was still here. I have so many questions.”

Jesper hummed and pulled her close.

“As do I,” he said in a soft voice.

The two of them stood and surveyed the scene in silence for a few moments. Jesper placed his hands on Alva’s shoulders when they tensed suddenly.

“What is it? If you’re worried about Lydia, I just got word from Espen Krum that she’s had no complications. And, Willem has slept through the night soundly without bothering anybody for the last week.” Jesper reassured. “They’re doing fine. Also, we still do have a phone. I’ll let you pick 3 people to call as a treat. It is St. Nick’s Day after all.”

She blinked at him before face planting into his chest.

“I feel so useless.” She sobbed into his chest.

“Now, why would you think that? You’ve done so much for me, for the kids, and for your students. All through October, you taught every damn day, and made all those stupid work packets to last them until we could go back safe. You gave them book lists. You told them to call you if they had phones and were stuck. You even answered most calls until our own kids got sick. Alva,” he lifted her chin and kissed her forehead. “What more can you do?”

“I-I ... I don’t know.” She sobbed as she fell further into his chest. “I don’t know. But, it’s so hard. I can’t let it go back to the way it was before when the kids here could barely speak and poor Jimmy Krum was 13 and couldn’t write his own name. I can’t let that happen. What if they forget everything?”

“It won’t. You know why?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and swayed her side to side. “Because, you’re the best damn teacher this place has ever seen. You took kids who could barely speak and taught them to be kind, to think for themselves, to report the misdeeds of their parents, and to stand up for themselves. So what, they forget how to write the letter “a?” Or so what, Heather’s daughter still mixes up 0 and 8 like her mom did on her return address most of the time she was a kid? Those are all things that can be retaught. But, you’ve got heart again, now. You’ll make it work.”

Alva felt a fresh wave of tears bring her to her knees. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just ... I want to stop worrying, but I can’t. I want it to be over, Jesper. I want it to be over. I’m so tired.”

“I know.” Jesper knelt next to her. “Do you want me to hold you or will that make it worse?”

“Hold me?” Alva reached out to him.

They sat there on the floor for a long time as Alva clung to Jesper and cried. Jesper just rubbed her back and told her it was going to be okay in the end, but he recognized that it sucked right now. He reminded her she had every right to be sad and stressed, and he let her cry. He told her that she’d carried the weight of their family and town for too long. She had laughed and said they both had, and they both cried. They cried because the house was empty of the two people they loved most apart from each other. They cried because they’d never had the chance to mourn the moment they each thought one almost lost the other.

For, they knew, they would fade into the dark abyss of depression without one acting as the rope to tether the other from being lost in the icy sea.

Eventually, they rose on creaking limbs to sit in their chairs by the window. The two of them cast long glances at the snow outside.

“Do you think he knows? Or will I have to tell him?” Jesper’s voice was quiet and somber, in ways it so rarely was. “I don’t want to tell him that I almost lost you.”

“I don’t know, Jesper. But, something tells me that, somehow, he knows.” Alva patted his hand.

He nodded. “I was thinking that next week I would send for the kids and reopen the post office. Mail for Klaus is likely pretty backed up.”

Alva hummed her acknowledgement. “I think that would be a wise idea. Thank you for waiting that long. I know it’s hard for you.”

“I just ... I’m nervous. But, not about being out there. I just ... I never want you out of my sight again.” He clasped her hand tightly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.” She kissed his cheek. “It takes a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

He laughed lightly despite everything. “Good thing I actually want you around then.”

He stood, and they held each other for a moment before sharing a chaste kiss.

The two of them walked to their room, and they nestled down together in each other’s embrace. Tomorrow would find them still snuggled together as the rays of dawn poked through the window.

*******************The End **************************

Some notes on my thoughts about the timeline of events leading up to this/other weird headcanons.

I kind of assumed the movie was set in late 1890ish (based on fashion and some of the tech people had - such as the type of boat, the lack of whaling, and the items on Father Johanssen’s desk - I thought I saw some kind of phone which would have put the film at at least 1876).

Also, women’s fraternities began forming in the late 1860s-1870s. Considering Alva is a graduate of a university of some sort, we can infer that she would have gone to school during a time in which it was at least somewhat more normal to see women being educated. My sorority was founded in 1870 and we’re one of the oldest.

I would assume Alva is about 23-25 during the film considering she probs would have graduated at like 20ish. I thought she said she’d been there for like 3 years or so. So, I kind of assumed she’d graduated in mid to late 1890s and took her job in 1895 (20) and 3 (23) years later wanted to head out.

I also head canon that Alva was a member of the Sami tribe and left on less than great terms to go to the city to be educated. This is why she took the job in Smeerensberg in the first place. The Sami are pretty isolated from the feud and don’t really seem to know about it (to our knowledge). So, it would make sense that she might want to come home and patch things up by teaching nearby. It would also help to explain why she speaks and is able to translate Sami.

The only thing that kills this theory is the lack of cars. I suppose, since, those were invented in 1886? But, cars didn’t fully replace horses until 1907. Also, I’m pretty sure Smeerensberg is exempt from the car rule anyway.

Based on my weird digging into accurate time frames for the movie, I assumed the first Christmas was around 1898. That being said this takes place approximately 20ish years after my thoughts on when the film took place. The fic is set during the height of the Spanish Flu of 1918.

Further timeline clarifications: Alva and Jesper dated for about 3 years. They were married in 1901 (26/29). They had their first child in 1905 (30/33), and they had their second in 1908 (32/35). Klaus died 1910 (34/37) (12 years after the first Christmas in 1898). The original children would be in their 20s-30s ish (I pegged most of them to be about 5 and the oldest at about 13). Therefore, some of the older ones have kids of their own. Jesper and Alva’s kids are 13 (Lydia) and 10(Willem). Alva is approx 43 and Jesper is 46.

[untilmynextstory]

Chapter 8: Family Recipe 

Eventually Jax was able to get Nathan to calm down. It was only after Nathan unleashed everything. Namely that he doesn't know when the abuse happened, in fact, he never saw a bruise on his mother, but he just knows Vitaly hurts her. Jax knows that the abuse doesn't even have to be physical, but mentality and emotionally.

It takes everything in his power to not storm to Alma's right now, but he has to be smart. He has to prepare for the worst. He can't just kill Vitaly. The man does have ties to the Russians and any blowback can land on Alma's doorstep.

Then there is the fact in separating Alma from her abuser. He has to be prepared that she won't want to leave. He needs to be prepared for her to fight him on everything.

He does his best to not even think about why Alma got herself in the situation. The anger doesn't lay on her. Now he knows why Alma wanted Nathan to move in with him. The abuse must have been escalating. He knew something was wrong. He should've pressed and pressed even if it would have pissed her off.

Jax walks over to the end table and grabs some stationary. He writes a short and coded message to Lenny to see if he could give him some basic info on Vitaly and his schedule. He knows he can't just show up to Alma's place of work. He wouldn't be surprised if the man kept eyes on Alma while he was away. He needs to be careful.

.

.

.

Alma feels Vitaly only did what he did to ruin her Thanksgiving. After all, he had left promptly three days after his parting gift for a business trip that would leave him gone for three weeks. It would have him back in town just for Christmas. She has a feeling that he may try to ruin that for her as well. She already plans to leave for Christmas early. Nathan has most of December off and since she missed Thanksgiving she can make it up to him by arriving a week or two earlier.

She knows she put Nathan through a lot of worry those two days he couldn't reach her. Vitaly did smash her phone during his fit of rage. She had been able to easily explain that to Nathan, who had demanded a video call, when she was able to get a hold of him.

She hated to see the utter look of relief on his face. It was like he knew something had gone wrong. She had tried to shield him from the decline of her second marriage. She should've gotten out the first time Vitaly ever raised his hand to her, but she didn't. She stayed. She stayed and she didn't even know why she did.

She thinks maybe she didn't want another failed marriage under her belt. She didn't want to admit that she let herself into the situation. She got herself trapped. Maybe, just maybe, it had to do with she didn't want for anyone to know she got herself in this situation. She didn't want to go crawling back to Charming - back to Jax. She didn't want the stares of pity. She wanted to show people that she could move on from the Life she had in Charming.

She also didn't want Jax to go to jail for murdering Vitaly. She knows it would get to that point. Her ex husband was a very smart man, but at the same time,if pushed he shoots first and thinks later. She knows he would not let Vitaly get away with putting his hands on her.

She is just grateful Vitaly never targeted her son. During his rages, he always insults Jax. She ignores them mostly. They seem to stem from a place of jealousy. It makes her wonder if he knew what she had done with Jax on their wedding night.

Alma had always carried so much guilt from that night. She was truly disgusted with herself. What woman cheats on their future husband on their wedding day. She carried that guilt for months until Vitaly's real side began to show. Hell, she even had a pregnancy scare. She didn't know how she was going to explain that to Vitaly. He had made it very clear he didn't want kids. Although, she had found out by accident that he couldn't have kids.

She prayed to god everyday that Jax didn't manage to knock her up again. She didn't even know how she would have managed to make a good lie for that one. She knows deep down what she would've done if she had been pregnant. She didn't know if she could live with that. She probably would've chickened out and would have to manage the embarrassment of running back to Charming with her tail tucked between her legs.

Now, she doesn't feel guilty. It was the last time she truly felt loved from anybody in that way. Maybe she shouldn't have let her mother push her into this marriage. For the first time she ever really listened to her mother she ends up being a victim of domestic violence.

Alma shakes her head. She is not going to blame her mother. She made the choice to continue seeing Vitaly. She accepted the marriage proposal.

Alma sighs as she opens one of the many boxes of decorations for Christmas. This is the first year she will be decorating without Nathan's help. This house is much larger than her two previous homes. The one thing she misses is all the homemade decorations Nathan and Kaylee made. She had left those in Charming. Alot of Kaylee's things were still in Charming.

She is glad because she has a feeling Vitaly's anger might escalate to destroy any connection she has to Charming and Jax.

Alma goes to her record player and puts on some Marvin Gaye and pours herself a glass of wine and begins to decorate. She has been decorating for only about 30 minutes when the doorbell goes off. She frowns as she wasn't expecting anyone. She's never expecting anyone now that Nathan isn't home. There is also the fact that she didn't bother concealing the bruises on her body. She grabs a throw blanket to wrap around her body to hide the bruises on her arms. She can't do much to hide the bruise on her cheek. She peeks through the side window and she stiffens in surprise to find Jax on the other side of the door.

She knows if anything was wrong with Nathan he would've called. The only reason he would come down if it was about Nathan, but she knows he would've called beforehand. She knows this because she is pretty sure he doesn't want to be in the same room as Vitaly. She knows there is no use in trying to act like she isn't home.

She unlocks the dead bolt, but doesn't open the door all the way. She hides half her body from Jax.

"I can admit I am surprised to see you on my doorstep," Alma greets with.

"I can say the same." He replies.

She watches as his eyes narrow at her presence. She takes in his appearance. He isn't wearing his kutte and he doesn't have his bike. She notices his truck parked in her driveway. He is practically incognito.

"What are you doing here, Jax?"

"You going to let me in?"

Alma takes a deep breath and she opens the door wider to let him in her house. He steps in and she closes the door behind her. She takes a deep breath. He knows.

"We need to talk, darlin'," Jax tells her.

Alma nods her head and she leads him through the living room. She knows he doesn't care for a tour of her house.

She leads him to the couch where he sits down and she sits in the lounge chair opposite from him.

He doesn't say anything for a couple minutes. In fact, he doesn't even look at her as he seems to take in the world she lives in. He takes a deep breath and leans forward to rest his elbow on his legs.

"Instead of coming back to my bed, you married a sick fuck that beats you. You let Nathan witness that shit." Jax starts. He doesn't beat around the bush. He gets straight to the point of why he drove down here.

"Nathan was never in any danger."

"Jesus Christ, Alma, that isn't the point." He snaps and looks her in the eyes. His eyes focus on her bruised cheek. The point is that she is in danger. It's a truth that goes unsaid.

"I can't leave him, Jax."

"The hell you can't. I will drag you out kicking and screaming if I have too."

Alma runs her hands down her face. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Let me see it."

"See what?"

"I can see that nice shiner on your face. Let me see the rest." He demands.

Alma pulls the blanket around her tighter. "Look, I appreciate the concern, but you need to go."

"Nah, I'm not leaving until I know you're getting out of this."

"Jax, I'm not your wife or old lady anymore. I'm not your concern."

"You're the mother of my children. You think I am going to go back to Charming knowing you're getting fucking beat. Do you think I can go home to our son and tell him 'hey I left your mother to get fucking beat'." Jax spits back. "Is that why you wanted him to live with me? You were scared Vitaly would take his attention to Nathan."

"I got Nathan out, Jax. That is all that matters right now."

"Do you even hear yourself, right now?" Jax asks in disbelief. "What the fuck happened to you, Alma?"

Alma snaps her head up. "What happened to me?" The laugh that escapes her lips is far from humorous. "How about the fact I had to grieve the loss of two children and my ex-husband decides to bury his grief in another pussy that isn't mine. Then a woman comes along claiming to be pregnant by him. How about the fact you humiliated me in Charming with the croweaters and pornstars leaving me to grieve all alone and taking care of the only child we had left alive. So excuse me while I tried to mend the pieces of me you fucking tore apart led me to fucking Vitaly."

Jax falls to his knees and his hands frame her face. Alma tries to turn away from him, but he forces her to look into his blue eyes.

"Alma, please…"

Alma doesn't know exactly what he is begging for. Does he want forgiveness, for her to leave Vitaly, for her to come back to Charming?

"Did he threaten me and the club?" Jax asks softly.

"I don't want you or Nathan to get hurt, Jax."

"Don't worry about the club. Don't worry about me."

"Easier said than done." Alma tells him weakly with a smile.

Jax smiles. "I know. I know." He brings his forehead down to hers. "You gotta come home, Alma."

Alma doesn't respond because she knows her answer won't please Jax. She thinks Jax must sense what she is thinking he pulls back from her and opens his mouth. She distracts him as she presses her lips against his. He is startled and he falls back. Alma takes advantage of his surprise as she straddles his hips. Her blanket falls off her shoulders and she meets Jax lips again into a burning kiss.

She thinks she has Jax distracted. He moans against her lips as she grinds down on him. A part of her missed this. She misses Jax and the feel of him against her, inside her. She leans down fully against him as she begins grinding against him. She won't feel guilty this time. After all, she can't remember the last time she has actually enjoyed sex. However, Jax's hands grip her hips and she winces as it presses against a tender bruise.

Jax notices the reaction immediately and pulls away from her and leans up. Lips already swollen, pupils dilated, Jax sucks in a breath as he takes in the damage.

Her arms are littered with Vitaly's fingerprints. She doesn't stop Jax when he lifts up his tank and sees the splotchy bruise on her hip from when she was pushed hard into the corner of the dresser in the bedroom. She had been worried about internal bleeding due to the pain she has been feeling for days.

"Al -"

She pushes his hands away and goes back to meet his lips, but he stops her. "Jax, please -"

"You're not coming back after Christmas." He tells her. "I'm not arguing with you about it."

Alma licks her lips. She closes her eyes and nods her head.

Jax sighs in relief and wraps his arms around her. Alma can't help the tears that begin to fall.

.

.

.

Jax is anxious. He has been since he had gone and seen Alma two weeks ago. She is supposed to arrive in a couple days. She had informed him that she planned to come down for Christmas early to begin with. His only comfort was that Vitaly was out on business. Alma would be left alone. She wouldn't see him unless he came down in Charming once he realized Alma wasn't coming back. Despite her assurance that she was leaving and would stay in Charming, it didn't stop the bad feeling in his gut.

It didn't stop him from feeling as if something was going to go wrong. It was hard leaving with the knowledge that Alma was in an abusive marriage. It hurts to know that he was the one that fucked up and it led her to that man's arms. Jax thinks he might hate himself a bit.

He knows Nathan didn't have any comfort either. In fact, Nathan has been calling or texting Alma every day since he came back from his trip to Alma's. Jax thinks he is just lucky the visit managed to slip the radar of his club and mother. They could deal with everything including people knowing the sliver of the truth once Alma was here permanently.

The one thing that was on replay in Jax's mind was the kiss. He knows it was stupid of him to even get partially distracted. Alma was doing it as a means to distract him. He was tempted and it probably would've gone further until he would have seen the damage Vitaly had done to her.

He did cry when he came back to Charming. It hurts to know that she's been dealing with this practically her whole marriage. Jax isn't blind to the fact that in this life men have shown physical dominance over their old ladies and women. Yet, Jax never took on that view. It disgusts him frankly. He even regrets what he had done to Ima. After all, it was his mistake for sleeping with Ima. It all landed on him for inviting Ima into his marriage. After Alma left him, he did apologize to the blond and managed to get her behind the camera as penance.

Even then he has witnessed a few slaps from the guys with the women, but Vitaly is fucking beating her. He knows Alma had to be in pain.

Jax thinks they need to figure out how to handle any potential blowback from the Russians. He doesn't think they would care, but Vitaly could be petty. He was surprised that the Russians did not care about any domestic situations.

Jax feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and he pulls it out and squints at the unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Jackson Teller?" A polite, feminine voice asked.

"Who's asking?"

"My name is Lisa. I'm a nurse at St. Vincent's hospital. You're listed as Alma Petrova's emergency."

"Is she okay? Is she alright?"

"She's stable and sedated, but it's best you come down here."

[believingispowerfulmagic]

“Last Christmas”: An OQ Advent Fic

A/N: Happy First Day of OQ Advent! Looks like my streak of being on Day 1 continues! I hope you all enjoy this story, inspired by the classic Christmas song by Wham! It makes me itch to write an Outlaw Queen story every time I hear it and now I’m doing so. I hope you enjoy it!

I know this year hasn’t been a very good one for many, many reasons. But as we approach the end of it and look forward to a new year, I hope you find happiness and peace. Happy holidays, happy December, and good riddance to 2020!

“This is a great party, Regina. I am so glad you decided to have it this year,” Mary Margaret said, helping to throw away some dirty dishes that didn’t make it to the garbage cans Regina had set up around the lower level of her house.

Regina smiled, feeling lighter and jollier than she had in a long time. “It felt right, you know?”

“I do,” Mary Margaret said, setting the garbage pail down. She accepted some hand sanitizer from Regina as she added: “Daniel would be so proud of you if he could see you.”

“I’d like to think so. He always loved our annual Christmas party and I felt like I let him down the past couple years not having it,” Regina confessed.

Her friend shook her head. “I think he understood why you couldn’t have it. I think he would’ve been the same way if the situation were reversed.”

Left unsaid was how close that almost came to be. The firefighters and police who responded to their accident said that had the car rolled a couple inches to the right, Regina would’ve been the one who died while Daniel would’ve lived - and probably wouldn’t have required all the surgeries she had needed after being extracted from the wreckage of her fiancé’s car. One patch of black ice and a faulty airbag had taken so much from her in one fell swoop - the man she loved, her ability to have children and her love for the Christmas season. It was hard to believe in hope and joy when her life felt devoid of both.

Until now.

Now she had Graham.

Mary Margaret’s husband David had introduced her to him, though his intention was not to set them up. Graham had become his partner at the sheriff’s department around Christmas the year before and since he had just moved to town, David and Mary Margaret had invited him over for Christmas. They had done the same for Regina and so the four of them had a small and cozy Christmas together. She had spent the afternoon talking with Graham and for the first time in almost two Christmases, she almost felt cheerful.

She and Graham started to spend more time both with Mary Margaret and David and without them. Both agreed it was nothing serious, just two people who enjoyed each other’s company spending time together, occasionally overnight in the same bed. Around the summer, though, they decided to evolve their friends-with-benefits situation into an actual romantic relationship, agreeing to date each other exclusively. Fun beach dates and steamy nights soon turned into cozy autumn afternoons curled up under blankets and watching movies. With winter officially starting and the first snowfall predicted within a week, she was looking forward to ice skating dates and hot toddy nightcaps.

Most of all, she was ready to feel love, hope and joy again.

“I never thought I would see that smile again,” Mary Margaret said, pulling Regina from her thoughts.

“What smile?” Regina asked, tilting her head.

Her friend chuckled. “The I’m-so-in-love-and-very-happy smile. You used to have it all the time when Daniel was alive and then it went away. Now it’s back, so I’m guessing things are going well with Graham.”

“They are,” Regina replied. She looked around, making sure her boyfriend wasn’t lurking around to overhear what she was going to say. Even though she didn’t see him, she lowered her voice as she said: “Let me show you one of the things I’m getting him for Christmas.”

She turned around and opened a drawer on her hutch, pulling out a small thin box. Regina held it out to Mary Margaret as she removed the lid, revealing a silver keychain with his initials engraved on it. Two keys were already attached to it.

Mary Margaret gasped. “Are those the keys to your house?”

“Yes,” Regina confirmed. “Graham and I discussed him moving in when his lease is up at the end of January. So this is my way of formally inviting him to move in with me.”

“Oh, Regina!” she gasped. “That’s great!”

Regina nodded, putting the lid back on and returning her present back in its hiding spot. “I didn’t think I would feel this way again but I do. And I hope it never ends.”

“I am so glad,” Mary Margaret replied, hugging her. “And I’m also hoping that you could talk to someone for me about that.”

That surprised Regina and she pulled back from her friend. “You do?”

Mary Margaret nodded. “Remember the new teacher I asked about inviting?”

“Yes,” she replied. “You said he had just moved here and didn’t know many people in the area.”

“Right. Well, he lost his wife earlier in the year so this is his first Christmas without her,” Mary Margaret explained.

Regina felt a pang in her heart, understanding the pain he had to be going through. That first Christmas without Daniel was the hardest and she had almost not even put up the decorations that year, not feeling able to celebrate. Mary Margaret had convinced her to put up one strand of lights and Regina had found comfort in them, spurring her to decorate the rest of the house in order to alleviate her pain for at least a month. It worked, though she still didn’t think she would ever truly be happy or celebrate Christmas again.

Yet here she was.

But she couldn’t imagine getting through that first Christmas without her friends, especially Mary Margaret and David. They supported her and were there for her through all her tears and fears, ready with a comforting word or hug. If she could bring some comfort to Mary Margaret’s new colleague, she would feel as if she was starting to pay it forward.

“I can talk to him,” she agreed. “Where is he?”

“Let’s go find him,” Mary Margaret said, taking Regina’s hand. She led her out of the dining room and across the foyer into Regina’s living room. All the other guests were in there, separated into their own little groups as they laughed and chatted while Christmas music played in the background.

Regina waved to those she passed before Mary Margaret came to a stop in front of Regina’s armchair. Sitting there was a man about their age who wore a dark green sweater over a white collared shirt and paired with black pants. He seemed startled, looking up at them with wide blue eyes. “Um, hi, Mary Margaret,” he said, revealing a slightly British accent.

“Hi, Robin,” she replied, pulling Regina forward. “I wanted you to meet my friend, Regina Mills. Regina, this is Robin Locksley.”

He stood and shook her hand. “Thank you for inviting me. You have a lovely home and this is a great party.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” she said, though she wondered if he had been sitting in that chair since arriving rather than socializing.

Mary Margaret beamed. “I’m going to let you two get to know each other better. Excuse me.”

She left and Regina rolled her eyes, chuckling a bit. “Sorry about her.”

“That’s okay,” he said, though she noticed he stopped looking her in the eyes. He then shifted from foot to foot. “I don’t know what she told you but I’m not interested in dating anyone right now.”

Regina played back her friend’s words and bit back a groan. This man didn’t know anything about her and so would no doubt assume their mutual friend was trying to set them up, which was the last thing he needed after losing his wife.

“I have a boyfriend,” she assured him. “You’ve probably met him, he’s around here somewhere. That’s not why Mary Margaret wanted us to meet. She, um, told me about your late wife and that this is your first Christmas without her. I have some experience with that.”

He raised his eyes to meet hers again, unmasked pain in them. “You do?”

She nodded, motioning toward the chairs. “Have a seat.”

Continue reading on FFN, AO3, or Wattpad. 

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Six

(I know it's Henry and not Sy in the photo, but it just fit too well with this chapter.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Six starts after the cut. (Chapter Five can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the last chapter or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

I will post a master list soon and put the link in the comments to make it easier to navigate.

Chapter 6

Chapter warnings: Smut, Christmas themes, mentions of therapy, embarrassing moments.

Ada didn't mind being woken up with soft fluttering kisses on her neck. She definitely didn't mind starting the day with the tantalizing rub of his beard on her sensitive skin and the hard press of his torso against her back, their legs entwined and his morning erection nuzzled against her butt.

What she did mind, however, was when any of this happened at the butt crack of dawn. Ada opened her eyes just enough to read 6:50am on the alarm clock.

"Sy," she groaned, stopping his wandering hands with hers, trying to trap them beneath her breasts. "Hold that thought for later, okay?"

She heard him chuckle behind her, his chest vibrating against her body as he freed his hands from her weak grip. "Later is for putting up the Christmas tree and the decorations," he teased, his right hand now drawing circles low on her stomach.

Ada groaned again, wanting to fight his tempting touch but unwilling to move away from his body heat. "I'll get up at 7:30." Those were the last words out of her mouth before she had drifted off again.

When she woke up once more, forty minutes later with the blast of her alarm clock, her back was cold and the smell of breakfast wafted through the air, filling her nostrils. Damn Syverson and his military sleep schedule! She had taken all her days off to spend them with him only to wake up even earlier than when she was working.

With barely open eyes, Ada threw on his shirt that hung on the chair and slowly made her way downstairs, following the scent of pancakes. She found Sy in front of the stove, just finishing up the last one before setting it on the huge pile of pancakes that looked fluffier than clouds. Ada had quickly learnt that while Sy was a disaster when it came to the art of cooking, he was the master of pancakes and barbecue.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he greeted her and then smirked when he noticed her attire.

"Morning captain," she mumbled, walking up to him before patiently waiting until he leant down so that they could share a kiss. It always made him laugh when she did that: the adorable pout on her face when he didn't bend down for a kiss fast enough was worth waiting the extra second every time.

They ate in relative silence, mostly because Ada definitely wasn't a morning person, but the fact that Sy had a habit of stuffing his mouth full of food also played a role. When she was done eating, Ada pushed her plate and glass away, and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs on the chair. She eyed her husband intently, waiting for him to finish eating with a grin on her lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that, darlin'?" Sy asked, eyebrow raised suspiciously before taking the last sip of his morning coffee.

Ada blushed, suddenly looking bashful. "Well… I was hoping we could go back upstairs and continue what you started earlier," she admitted in a tiny voice.

Sy laughed, a booming sound that filled the entire room before a shit-eating grin spread on his lips. "Tough luck, darlin'." He got up from his chair, standing in front of her across the narrow table. "Should have thought about that before falling asleep on me earlier."

Ada's mouth fell open. The cheek on this man! And what made it worse, was his huge smile that made him look like a very amused bear, with his hairy, tempting chest. He was toying with her. "Are you really saying no to sex?" She asked, cocking her brow. Sy wasn't really the type to turn down-

"Yes, no sex." He stated, suddenly looking very serious. "We have to head to the store to buy decorations, then put up the tree and hang the lights outside." Ada tried her best not to laugh. He sounded as if he were explaining a major, life or death, mission to her – not Christmas preparations. "You’re dismissed but I expect you back here in fifteen minutes, dressed and ready to go." With that, he turned around and started gathering the plates and silverware to put them in the dishwasher.

"Yes, sir."

Ada knew better than to talk back. First, when he had something in mind, it was nearly impossible to talk him out of it. Second, she hoped that the sooner they were done with this, the sooner she could get laid. Third, he had used his Captain voice that somehow always managed to make an obedient little soldier out of her.

Though, rationally, she also didn't want to make it any more difficult for him. He had confessed to her a few nights ago why he'd felt so uneasy when they had gone grocery shopping: the gondolas were too tall which led to lots of blind spots and the amount of people meant he couldn't rely on his hearing sense to detect potential danger. 'It just screams ambush,' he told her.

Ada couldn't quite imagine what he must have experienced that a supermarket or a store would translate into danger, but it was not her place to question him. Instead, she had kissed his forehead in bed and offered to start doing their shopping on her own. Sy had promptly refused, suggesting they simply go early in the mornings, when there were less people and less distracting noises.

Now at Target, she was immensely glad she had gotten out of bed, the sight alone was worth it. It wasn't everyday you'd see Sy pick up a bunch of Christmas tree baubles and inspect each one of them carefully before determining which ones were worthy enough to make it to their living room. Ada sneaked a picture for safekeeping and then decided to send it to his mom as well. Family dinner was fast-approaching, and she'd seize all the cookie points she could get.

"Darlin'," Sy called, catching her attention. He was holding up an inflatable Santa who, instead of carrying gifts, dragged a bag full of liquor bottles and sported a drunk grin on his face. It was tacky beyond words. "Do 'you think we should get this, or will it just upset the neighborhood kids?"

Ada grimaced but tried to disguise it with a smile. She’d die before letting that thing on their lawn. “I think a neighborhood dog would tear it to bits within a second," she lied, trying to appear apologetic.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

°°°

The lights were up. It was a much quicker process with Sy's help. It was also the occasion for Ada to just sit back and relax because he was adamant, she shouldn’t step on a ladder to help. Instead, she had a glass of bourbon waiting for him for when he finished. It was 5pm somewhere after all.

"You said we had a tree!" Sy's deep voice reached her from the basement.

Ada threw her head back, sighing, before hurrying downstairs after him. "Yes, it's in that box over there," she pointed at a white cardboard box behind a couple of spare tires.

"Woman, it's tiny!" Sy complained, picking up the box and setting it down between them. It was about as tall as her. It was not that small.

"It's the one I've used every year since I moved in. It's pretty enough and doesn't take up too much space,” she defended.

In front of her, Sy exhaled loudly through his nostrils before rubbing his beard. She knew that move. It's what he did to remind himself she was not a soldier under his command, but his wife, and that he better measure his words unless he wanted to sleep on the sofa.

"Look, darlin'," he said calmly, enclosing her small hands in his much bigger ones. "This is my first Christmas home with my wife. I refuse to put up a minuscule, fake sapling in my home and call it a Christmas tree."

Ada was slightly taken aback. She didn’t know Christmas was this important to him. Though it was true he had been overseas on Christmas the past two years, so she could understand where he was coming from with wanting this Christmas to matter. Besides, it was endearing when he put it like that.

With a nibble on her lip, Ada gave in. "Okay. They're selling trees in that parking lot by the pharmacy."

Sy slowly shook his head, a mischievous look on his face. "No. We're going to get our own pine tree from the woods."

You gotta be kidding me, she groaned internally.  

°°°

Ada had no idea where they were. It hadn’t been that long of a ride, but there were no more houses or streets to be seen around them, just endless fields and a forest. It was only when Sy took a right turn, that she started spotting cars and what looked to be a very colorful barn which had been converted into a cozy boutique.

“Where are we?” She asked, staring out of the window as Sy looked for a place to park his truck.

“The Dallagher’s ranch,” he replied. “They do a corn maze and a pumpkin patch in the Fall, and in the Winter, you can pick up your own Christmas tree. My dad used to take Claire and I here every year.”

Oh… This was a family tradition. No wonder Sy made such a big deal about having a real tree for Christmas.

Once out of the car, they walked hand in hand through the dirt road until they reached the makeshift counter made of hay where you could get a handcart before heading out into the man-made pine forest and select a Christmas tree. Most people she saw, however, were already returning the handcarts and happily carrying their trees to their parked cars.

The old man by the cash register seemed to recognize Sy instantly, smiling warmly as he greeted him with a one-armed hug. Ada realized it was the ranch’s owner. “I haven’t seen you in years, Jack!” The old man exclaimed with a laugh before turning to Ada. “And who’s this pretty lady?”

“This is Ada, my wife,” Sy said, introducing them. He watched with amusement as Ada stumbled as the old man hugged her without a warning, taking her by surprise.

“Well, it’s great to meet you, Ada,” the man nodded once he had retreated, and then turned back to Sy. “Should I be offended I wasn’t invited to the wedding?” He teased.

Sy was already wrapping his arm around her shoulders, chuckling. “To be honest, Dallagher, there were no guests at the wedding,” he replied, amused at the way the old man frowned in a confused manner at that piece of information. “Actually, we came here to get a tree.”

“Of course!” Dallagher immediately turned and ordered the young boy in overalls to fetch them a handcart. “What size did you have in mind?”

“Something around seven feet,” Sy said, looking pensive as Ada looked up at him suspiciously, trying to figure out how much seven feet converted to in the metric system. Once she’d done the math, she pulled at Sy’s flannel sleeve to protest – that was way too big, it’d take up the whole living room – but the Dallagher’s grandson was already handing them the cart and leading them to the entrance.

“Trees that big are at the very back of the forest, you’ll have to walk a little.”

This turned out to be quite an understatement. Ada felt like they had been walking for literal years. While they had still come across other people at the beginning, mostly families, they were on their own now – that is if you didn’t count the many squirrels that kept appearing out of nowhere.

She stopped, grabbing the back of Sy’s red tartan shirt so he would be forced to pause as well. “Can’t we just take one of these?” Ads suggested, gesturing at the countless trees all around them. They were all pretty enough and considerably taller than her.

Sy huffed, biting his lip in amusement as he looked at her dispirited face. He’d told her she should probably get changed and wear more comfortable shoes before they left home, but she had insisted she wasn’t going to change clothes just to get a goddamn tree. “These are only around six feet, darlin’. And,” he paused, eyeing the trees more closely, “they’re not Nordmann firs. I want a Nordmann.”

Ada sighed defeatedly, but nodded all the same, starting to walk again when Sy took pity on her. “Do you want to sit on the handcart?”

The change on his wife’s face was instant, the frown lifting into a smile as she climbed on the cart and sat down in the middle, evening out her weight for him. “Is that better, darlin?” He asked teasingly.

She turned her head back just to make sure he saw her rolling her eyes.

By the time they reached an area with Nordmann trees that Sy considered nice and big enough, her butt was sore from the conjunction of the hard, wooden surface and the uneven ground. She wasn’t even sure she had made the better call or whether it would have been better to suffer in her new ankle boots instead.

“Which one is better?” Sy asked, pointing at two pine trees that looked virtually identical to her.

Ada shrugged, almost saying that he should choose before realizing how much time that would take. The man wasn’t picky about food, bedlinen or even the pillow he slept with, but apparently, he had to make sure he brought home the most perfect tree. She still couldn’t wrap her head around that. “The left one,” she said finally.

“Which one? Your left or my left?”

Breathing in deeply, she decided to just point at the tree she was talking about. Sy nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the saw he had brought with him and started to work on the tree. While she had been most eager to get this whole thing over with, it became an entirely different story now as she dreamily stared at her husband getting to work.

With most of his back facing her and one knee on the forest’s soft ground as he started sawing off the Nordmann fin, Sy looked absolutely delicious. The red flannel shirt unbuttoned over his white t-shirt and the jeans made him perfect sight with anyone with a lumberjack fantasy. Ada had never considered herself as having such a kink. A uniformed soldier, or even better, a captain? Hell yes. A strong, rugged husband capable of her breaking her in half? Also a big yes. A lumberjack? The thought had never crossed her mind in the past but there was no point in denying it now as she sat back on the wooden cart, watching Sy carefully saw down the giant tree.

She was wet. Horny. Aroused. You name it. It also didn’t help that they hadn’t had sex that day. Yet.

"Sy," she whined, just loud enough to get his attention, while swinging her legs in the air like a child.

"I'm almost done, darlin'," Sy responded, not bothering to turn around to look at her. "I want a nice, clean cut."

Yeah, and she want a nice, dirty fuck. Pouting, she watched him for a couple more seconds as he knelt in front of the base of the tree, deciding from which side he should bring the saw to the trunk next in order to make it even.

That was when Ada decided she was tired of waiting. Shuffling quietly, she slipped off her wet panties from under her dress and rolled them into a small ball before throwing it at her husband. It hit his left shoulder and rolled down his chest. Grinning wickedly, she leaned back on her shoulders and enjoyed the view, the muscles on his back shifting as he picked up the garment off the ground. If this didn't get her laid, nothing else would.

"Ada Metz Syverson," Sy groaned out her full name slowly, his voice even deeper than usual. He got back up on his feet and turned to face her, looking stern.

Suddenly she didn't feel so brave anymore, not when he had crossed the distance to her in two determined strides and went to tower over her small, sitting frame. His jaw was set, and his eyes were a darker shade of blue than usual. Ada moved her eyes down his body, her eyes pausing at the defined pectorals on his chest before sliding lower. He was definitely hard, the bulge on his jeans prominent.

"Just remember you asked for this."

She wanted to ask what this was supposed to be, but he didn’t give her the chance. “Legs,” he ordered, patting his shoulder as he came to stand just inches away from her. Almost unconsciously, she obeyed his order, her ankles coming to rest on the front of his shoulders, her feet framing his neck. “That’s a good girl,” he praised her with a quick kiss to her right calf before his large hands moved to the front of his jeans, just over the protruding tent and began undoing the belt and snap.

From this angle, Sy’s cock looked even bigger, the shiny glans flushed a deep pink. Ada swallowed tightly, her legs already shaking with anticipation and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Pumping his shaft with his right hand, Sy brought his left one to her core, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over clit once or twice before sliding it between her folds. She was a dripping mess. Sy smirked when she keened eagerly at his touch, enjoying his ministrations until he pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, licking off her slick. “It’s good you’re so wet already because I just can’t wait to take you, darlin’.”

He wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t wait. The next thing he did, was grabbing hold of his throbbing, hard cock and guiding himself into her. Ada moaned loudly at the intrusion, drowning out Sy’s own growl as her walls clenched around his cock, trying to get used to the abruptness and depth of the penetration.

“Fuck, Sy!” She cried out, not even sure what it was she wanted. “Don’t stop,” was all she could muster as he ploughed into her like there was no tomorrow, hitting her pleasure all at once.

He knew they were being too loud. They might be alone, but they were still out in the open air, and yet he just couldn’t find it in himself to care – not when she felt this good around his cock and her noises only heightened his fervor. If someone happened to stumble upon them, then they’d simply be in for a premium show,

It wasn’t long until her legs started shaking almost uncontrollably up in the air, prompting him to remove one hand from his steely grip on her hip and wrap his arms around her legs to keep them steady as he continued with jackhammer thrusts. “Are you going to cum for me, darlin’?” Sy panted, groaning out the question between clenched teeth even though he already knew the answer.

Ada didn’t manage to reply, the first waves of her orgasm already coursing through her when she moaned his name. Her hips canted up, her body tensed up like a bolt, and Sy knew he was done for right then. Her warm walls squeezed him impossibly tight inside of her, milking the cum right out of his cock while he fought to keep his balance as pleasure overtook him.

They came down from their heights slowly, chests heaving. Sy lazily removed her legs from his shoulders, massaging the strained muscles on her inner thighs before he set her legs down. This woman would be the end of him. “That was…” he panted, bending forward over her body to kiss her forehead, unable to find a proper adjective to describe what had just happened.

“Yeah,” Ada breathed out, nodding slowly.

Sy ended up having to carry her and the tree on the cart back to his truck because there was no way she was able to walk straight after that.

°°°

They finished decorating the giant tree. Ada had to admit it looked pretty although the red and gold decorations clashed with the color theme of their living room. She handed Sy the newly purchased baubles one by one – he was the only one capable of reaching the top.

On their way back home, she had somehow managed to convince Sy to stop at the therapist’s office – the one she had found had the highest ratings on Google. They had booked the first available appointment, which was just after the New Year and Sy had made it very clear to their secretary it was just a ‘testing appointment’ and that there was no need to set aside time slots for follow-up sessions yet because there was no guarantee he’d be back. His reluctance was palpable, but Ada was glad he was giving it a try at least. And if he didn’t like, then they’d figure out something else.

In the background, their wedding video kept playing and she wondered for how much longer she'd have to hear the sound of camera flashes as the chapel assistant took way too many photos of them in the most cliché poses you could imagine. Sy has insisted they put on their wedding video since they’d never gotten around to watch it and it fit the season, according to him. Slowly, the annoying sounds began fading away and Ada sighed with relief. Watching herself on TV sparked too much embarrassment in her.

"Hand me the big one with Rudolph, will you, darlin'," Sy asked from behind her, still meticulously decorating the tree.

Ada nodded, searching for the bauble he had in mind. It was still in the shopping bag, she remembered, lifting it off the floor to dig inside it.

Ada froze as a female chuckle was heard, unconsciously gripping the glass ornament too tightly in her hand. "Not that fast, Captain."

Behind her, Sy frowned. "What did you say?"

"Tonight, I'm in charge," she heard her own voice say - no, it was more like a purr.

"Shit!" Ada cursed loudly, letting the bauble fall back inside the bag and she hurried to the TV, her worst fear confirmed.

Sy followed her quickly, stopping just behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Is that from our wedding night?" He asked slowly, his eyes locked on the screen as he watched his younger self being tied up to the bedposts by his wife.

"Yes," Ada cringed, her face a painful grimace. "I didn't even remember the sex tape."

"Me neither," Sy swallowed loudly, admittedly rapidly becoming aroused at the sight of his Ada doing a striptease on camera. She wore that red ensemble with the garter belt.

"I think the assistant never really ended the video after our wedding, only paused it and we later continued filming in the hotel instead of starting a new video," Ada commented, now understanding what had happened. How they’d even came up with the idea of filming a sex tape on their wedding night, she didn't know. Alcohol had probably played a part in it.

Sy was still staring in awe at the TV, enthralled by the sight of his wife deviously edging him, her hips swaying slowly, when her words slowly registered in his head. "Didn't we send copies of the video to our families?" He stammered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and hesitant.

Silence fell between them as they both realized they had been dumb enough to send copies before watching it themselves. "Fuck!" Ada barked, seizing the remote to pause the video. "We sent that to my parents, your parents, your sister...," she listed, her face losing all color.

Suddenly, the sound of Sy's deep laughter filled her ears. She turned to him, aghast. How could he find this funny? This was peak cringe! She’d be one needing therapy after this!

"You know, darlin', watching this video was the first time my parents ever saw their daughter-in-law, before even meeting you in person." Sy explained, shaking his head with amusement.

Ada was mortified. No wonder Mr. Syverson had seemed on the verge of laughter the first time they'd met and Helen had given her the side eye. The woman had a USB stick in her home with an hour-long video of Ada fucking her son. "You know, Sy, this wedding video is also the first thing my parents saw of you." He stopped laughing abruptly, his face red, all amusement gone.

They both sat down on the couch next to each other, slowly coming to terms with the fact that pretty much their whole families had seen this, and never said anything, probably keeping it as an inside joke.

Sy broke the silence, his large hand reaching to rub her naked thigh. "You know, I don't think we should be embarrassed," he said, prompting her to stare back up at him, eyebrow raised dubiously. "The way you tied up my arms really enhanced my biceps and you looked adorably hot like a vicious kitten from hell."

°°°

@colourmeinblue​ @hail-horror-queen​ @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl​ @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​ @rn7rocks​ 

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Together: Epilogue 5 | Morgan Rielly

A/N:  There are not enough words in the English language to express how I feel about your engagement with this story and the fact that it has finally come to its (writing) end, so all I can and will say is: thank you.

Christmas Eve 2031

Morgan’s heart was full as he stood at the kitchen island watching Andy and Maia finish decorating the small batch of gingerbread cookies for Santa Claus with Bee.  Both kids were sitting on the countertop, fixing Smarties buttons and faces onto the icing before Bee scooped them off of the baking sheet and onto the plate.  The entire time they had been working in the kitchen, there were giggles and kisses and singing, with Morgan sneaking bites of the dough, causing his kids to scream and want some for themselves (Bee digressed and let them have only a little bit).  There were four cookies in total – one prepared to look like each member of the family.

“There we go!  Our cookies are ready for Santa!” Bee exclaimed as she held the plate up.  “Do you think Santa will like them?”

“He’s gonna think they’re so y…yummy,” Andy smiled proudly at his work.  

“Mama…” Maia said.  “We need carrots for Rudolph and the reindeer!”  She looked towards her father for help.  “Dada, we need carrots for Rudolph!”

“C’mere Ladybug, come help me peel them,” he stretched out his arms, grabbing Maia so he could balance her on her hip as they walked towards the fridge.  He opened them, going for the baby carrots first playfully.

“No!” Maia yelled out.  “Rudolph and the reindeer are big!  They need big carrots!  They need those carrots!” she pointed at the big ones on another shelf.  “They will be hungry.”

“Okay okay,” Morgan said, grabbing a baby carrot in the bag with one hand before shoving it in his mouth, crunching loudly.  “Mmmmm, what if I ate all the carrots before Rudolph and the reindeer?”

“You can’t, dada,” Maia chastised her father.  “That’s no fair.  We need to be nice.”

Morgan smiled proudly at the words that came out of his daughter’s mouth.  “Yes, you’re right Maia.  We do need to be nice,” he affirmed as he kissed her cheek.  “You’re so smart Maia.”

“Smart like mommy.”

Bee looked over her shoulder, giving Morgan a playful look.  “You’re so smart like mommy” was in Morgan’s lexicon for both of his children for the last three years.  It was no wonder Maia picked it up.  “Smart like daddy too,” he grumbled playfully, giving Bee a look too.  “Okay, can you hand me the carrots so I can peel them?”

When all was said and done, Andy put the plate of gingerbread cookies on the coffee table, followed by Maia leaving the carrots.  Bee poured a cup of milk and placed it next to the cookies.  Andy even laid out a hand-written note signed by he and his sister, his near-perfect penmanship on display.

Dear Santa Claus

My name is Andrew Rielly and I am 6 years old.  My sister is Maia Rielly and she is 3 years old.  We hope you enjoy our cookies and that Rudolph and the reindeer eat the carrots.  Thank you for coming to our house.  Thank you for the presents.

Love

Andy and Maia.

“Okay…we’ve gotta go to bed now or else Santa Claus won’t come!” Bee announced.  “Who’s ready to put on their PJs?!”

Andy and Maia raced upstairs with each other, disappearing into their bedrooms and getting their special Christmas pyjamas in their drawers.  Morgan and Bee followed, taking them into the washroom to help them brush their teeth before bed.  Bee went into Maia’s bedroom first, helping braid her hair before tucking her into bed.  Morgan came in too, sitting opposite Bee on the bed.

“Mama?” Maia’s voice asked, the fatigue of the day finally showing in her voice. 

“Yes Ladybug?”

“Tomorrow, I can try flying like Rudolph?”

Morgan and Bee snorted at the same time.  “I don’t think so,” Morgan said.  “You can’t fly, Maia.”

Maia didn’t seem happy with her parents’ answer.  But she digressed, pulling the covers up to her neck – exactly how she liked it.  “Will Santa bring presents for Bruce and Maggie?”

“Of course he will,” Bee answered quickly.  “Maggie’s been a good girl, hasn’t she?”

Maia nodded her head.  “Maggie’s a sweet girl.”

“And Bruce?”

“Bruce too,” Maia said before yawning.  She looked at Morgan with her sleepy eyes.  “Dada, can we get another puppy?”

Morgan paused.  He looked at Bee, who was already looking at him.  Maia was waiting for an answer.  “Maia…we’ll talk about it later, okay?  You need to go to sleep or else Santa won’t come visit.”

“Okay…” Maia digressed.  “Goodnight Mommy.  Goodnight Daddy.  You the best mommy and daddy ever.”

“Goodnight my Ladybug,” Morgan bent down to kiss her.  “Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight Maia.  Mommy loves you,” Bee kissed her too.

“I love you too Mommy.”

Morgan turned off the light as they left her room, closing the door gently.  Bee gave him a look the entire time.  They made their way towards Andy’s room, who was already in his bed, though he was stretching over to his bedside table, adjusting his Funko Pops of John Tavares and Auston Matthews.  When he noticed his parents walk in, he stopped.  “Hi mama, hi d…dada.”

“You ready to be made into a burrito?” Morgan asked, to which Andy nodded his head.  Bee and Morgan tucked him in just how he liked, a giant smile on his face the entire time.

“Dada?” Andy’s little voice asked once they were done.  

“Yes my booboo bear?”

“Is S…S…Santa gonna visit my best friend Leon?” he asked, fighting with his eyelids to stay open instead of drop in their fatigue from the excitement of the day.

Morgan smiled as he caressed his little face.  “Of course Santa is going to visit Leon.  And I bet Leon will show you what he got from Santa tomorrow when he comes over with Aunt Angie, Uncle Mason, Nonno Rocco and Mémère Clarette.”

“And is Santa gonna visit J…J…Jace and Isabella?  And Noam?  And………Henry and Greta?”

“Of course.  He’s going to visit all of you because you’ve all been good boys and girls,” Morgan nodded his head.

Morgan watched as the gears in Andy’s head began shifting.  He loved that he was able to see Andy’s mind working in real time, even for the simplest things.  He was such an expressive boy.  Even though he had a bit of a rough start at school, everything was better now and Andy was in a much better place.  Andy’s brows burrowed and his face contorted a bit, all in an effort to think and not fall asleep.  “Mommy?”

“Yes Andy?”

“You know how Santa has r…r…reindeer?”

“Yes…”

“How do they fly?”

Bee couldn’t help but smile.  “I think if Santa told us, that would break the magic,” she said.  She leaned in and kissed his forehead.  “You’re such a smart boy, Andy.”

“I love you mommy,” he said softly, his eyes finally closing.  

“Mommy loves you so much Andy.  You know Mommy loves you?”

“I know,” he barely got out.  “I love you too Daddy.”

“I love you too, Andy.”

***

“We’re getting another dog, aren’t we?” Bee asked an hour later as both she and Morgan were downstairs on the main floor, putting out the presents from Santa.  Bee stuffed the board game and books under the tree, while Morgan worked on the stocking stuffers.

“They’ve been asking for a year, Bumblebee,” Morgan said, as if that explained everything.  “Bruce and Maggie are so good with the kids, and they’re good with animals…what’s another dog?”

Bee rolled her eyes playfully.  “Is that why our iPad always has sheepadoodle Instagram profiles open whenever I get to it?”

“Maybe.”

Bee shook her head.  “We’ll talk about it after the holidays.”

Bee watched as Morgan finished stuffing the stockings, making his way over to the coffee table before sitting on the couch and chomping into one of the carrots.  She stayed silent as he chomped down on the others, finishing one so there were only two left that were mostly eaten.  He then moved on to the cookies, taking dramatic bites and making sure to leave crumbs in and around the plate and on the coffee table.  He ate most of them, leaving only remnants.  

Bee couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes as she watched him.  When he finally looked up at her, he noticed the tears automatically.  “What’s wrong?”

“You did that for me twelve years ago now,” Bee reminisced, her eyes welling up with tears even more.  Just saying how long it had been since he did that for her, one year into their relationship, was a lot for her to handle.  “Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Morgan said, getting up from the couch and making his way over to her.  “I wanted to give you a normal Christmas.”

A lump in her throat formed at his words.  “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever needed,” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  He instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her against his body.  “Look how far we’ve come.”

“Look how far we’ve come together,” he added, kissing the tip of her nose.  “Look at how much we’ve accomplished, how much we’ve grown, how much we’ve done, how much we’ve built…” he said.  “We’ve come so far.  And there’s still so much to go, still so much to do.  Together.  Because I love you, Briony Rielly.  Forever.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss him passionately.  “I love you so much, Morgan Rielly.”  She couldn’t let go of him.  She couldn’t stop kissing him.  In her dream kitchen, on Christmas Eve, with her two children sleeping soundly upstairs, her two pets sleeping with them, she didn’t want the feeling to end.  

To think of where she started to where she now was.  

Briony McTavish of Toronto, Canada.  Daughter of an alcoholic mother.  Raised in rooming houses, homeless shelters, and public housing.  Emancipated at sixteen.  

Briony McTavish of Toronto, Canada.  A Master’s student.  A poor, starving Master’s student.  A teaching assistant at the University of Toronto.  A graduate of the University of Toronto.  A junior financial analyst at Scotiabank.

Briony Rielly of Toronto, Canada.  A Master of Financial Economics.  A certified financial analyst at Scotiabank.  Wife to Morgan Rielly of the Toronto Maple Leafs.  A philanthropist.  A mentor at Alateen.  Co-founder of The Rielly Foundation.  Mom to Andrew John and Maia Claire.  

She was complete.

[emelywrites]

hello! can u please write prompt 22: The cookies are too hot to eat.“ - „You’re too hot to eat.“ for harry potter please :D thank u!!

I am now listening to Sia’s Christmas album while writing these and it is working wonders. Hope you’ll like it.

#22: “The cookies are too hot to eat.” - “You’re too hot to eat.”

Prompt #22

Harry had never really liked Christmas when he was little. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had never tried to make it enjoyable to him. To him it was just another time of the year where he got more tasks so Dudley could have a perfect day. The first time he’d tried a Christmas biscuit was at the Weasleys’. And he loved them.

Now that he was a grown man with his own wife and son Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year. You loved Christmas and you’d made it known especially during the first Christmas you spent in your shared home. Christmas season had to start in October for you to get everything done. In late November you both started to properly get into the holiday mood.

Having just come home from a trip to get the Christmas tree, some gifts and some groceries Harry got to setting up the tree in the living room where he could still se you and James in the kitchen making his beloved Christmas biscuits. Of course he loved Mrs Weasley’s Christmas cookies but nothing beat the biscuits his wife and him had perfected over the years. He was immensely excited to get his taste buds on this year’s first batch.

When the tree was all ready to be decorated he came into the kitchen where you were just cleaning the kitchen while listening to James listing all the things he wanted for Christmas again.

„Daddy! I got to try the dough before they went into the oven!“, he excitedly exclaimed when he saw Harry.

You pretended to be shocked. „James! That was our little secret. Now daddy’s gonna get jealous!“

You walked up to your son and started tickling him.

„He should be, mummy! Mummy also loves me more, daddy!“

You both chuckled as you lifted James off the counter. „Go wash your hands now, love. Don’t want to ruin your biscuit designs with flour hands, do you?“

James shook his head and ran off to the bathroom as you turned to get the cookies out of the oven. You put the tray onto the counter and put the next one into the oven. When you turned around again Harry was stretching his hands out toward the biscuits.

„Harry! The cookies are too hot to eat!“

He turned his head to you with a raised eyebrow. „You’re too hot to eat.“

„That’s true, darling. Still, that doesn’t change my point“, you giggled.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and started kissing your neck. Suddenly, he winced.

„What’s wrong?“, you asked concerned, looking for any sign of discomfort in his face.

„You really are too hot to eat.“

[girls-scenarios]

Could u do list 1 prompt 7 with Haseul??????

Loona’s Haseul / Holiday Prompts

7. Persons A and B must convince their child that yes, Santa is real.

Admin Kiwi

A/N: So I’m going to try and write as many of these that have to do with Christmas as possible. The more generic “holiday” prompts will be done before New Years and will most likely be New Years/Winter themed. Thank you as always for your patience!

“We might have a problem.” It was early in the morning and Haseul had just walked in from dropping Yeojin off at school. Her arms were crossed as she spoke, her eyebrows furrowed together in a pensive frown. “Our little girl has apparently started to worry about Santa.”

“Oh,” you said, slowly putting down the garland you’d been wrestling with since you brought out the Christmas decorations the day before. You were covered in pieces of green plastic that you brushed off as you stood up. “What makes you think that?”

“On the way to school today, she asked me how Santa managed to get inside houses and apartments that don’t have chimneys. She’s asked that before, but today when I told her that Santa has his own magic ways, she frowned and said that she didn’t believe in magic.”

“Huh. That’s new.” Your frown matched hers as you tried to think, putting your hands on your hips. “What age were you when you stopped believing in Santa? I can’t quite remember for me.”

“I don’t remember an exact age,” Haseul said, shaking her head, “but I know I wasn’t six. Six is way too young to stop believing.”

“I agree. But what can we do?” You sighed and sat back down, going back to messing with the knot in the garland. “I wasn’t prepared for this at all. I thought we’d at least have another year or two.”

“Right?” She stood silent, thinking for a moment. “You know, we could consult those parent blogs online. I’m sure they’ll have some kind of advice on what to do when your child starts asking questions.” Smiling, she walked over and took the garland from your hands. “Why don’t you stop messing with this thing and we can talk about Santa over breakfast? My treat.”

Laughing, you stood up once again and put your decorations to the side. “Well, if you put it that way, how can I say no?”

-

The parenting blogs proved to be a good idea. There were plenty of cool tricks to do online, but the one thing that really caught both of your attention was the video from Santa. The preview videos on the website looked genuine, and all you’d need to do was send Yeojin’s Santa letter. It seemed like it would work.

“If we can get her to do the letter,” Haseul said, sighed and taking another sip of her coffee, and you laughed. She had a point. The little girl was going through a bit of a rebellious stage. But you were sure there would be some way to convince her to write a letter to Santa.

-

Eventually, after gentle coaxing and a lot of suspicious and dramatic eyebrow raising from Yeojin, the two of you sat down at the kitchen table with her letter in hand, the little girl fast asleep in her bed upstairs.

“So we just send this information to the website?” She looked over the list and rubbed her face. “Oh god, she’s asking for a puppy. Is that something we can do right now?”

You laughed and fondly leaned into your wife, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I guess we’ll see. The gifts never get any easier, do they?”

“They never get any cheaper either,” she commented, but laughed along with you, folding the letter up once again. “I’m happy if she’s happy, though.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

-

“Yeojin! Look what we just got!” It was after dinner a few days later when the video came through, and you had to calm yourself down before you walked out to the living room to show her. “Santa sent me a video!” Beside the little girl, Haseul acted surprised, her mouth falling open as she let out a little gasp and nudged Yeojin’s shoulder.

“Santa?” Yeojin looked excited, then frowned suspiciously as you sat down beside her. “Really? Santa really sent me a video?”

“He did! Apparently he got our letters!” You settled down onto the couch, Yeojin between the two of you, and pressed play on the video.

Immediately, Santa appeared on the screen, all dressed in his red costume with a real beard and everything. Just as you’d seen on the website, the video looked legit.

“Is this thing recording? Oh, I’m too old to figure out these newfangled things.” Santa laughed as he settled back into his chair and pulled out a big book, as well as the exact letter Yeojin had written. At the sight of it, your daughter let out a gasp.

“Wait, that’s mine!”

“Yep!”

“Hello there Yeojin, and Merry Christmas!” Santa waved at the camera as he let out a chuckle. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, as always. But some of my elves told me that you’ve been doubting me! Is this true?” He leaned forward in his chair, and Yeojin’s mouth dropped open.

“How did he know?”

“He’s Santa. He knows everything.”

“Wow....”

“I wanted to send you this video to show you that I am very real, just like your parents said! We got your letter up here at the North Pole,” he said, holding up the letter and envelope. “You’ve got a lot of wishes this year, but as long as you believe in me, I think I can take care of them! A puppy! Now that’s a special gift right there. But as long as you stay good and keep believing, I think I can get it to you!” He winked and grinned at the camera, and you found yourself smiling. This guy was good. “Once again, Merry Christmas, Yeojin! I’ll see you soon!”

“Wow!” Yeojin exclaimed as the video ended and she jumped to her feet, bouncing up and down on the couch. “I can’t believe it! Santa really is real! And he’s going to get me a puppy!”

“Only if you believe,” you said, holding your hand out to make sure she didn’t fall off the couch.

“I’ll believe! I’ll believe really, really hard! I want a little dog so I can name him Frog!”

“You’re going to name your dog, Frog?” Haseul smiled, helping the little girl jump safely from the couch to the floor.

“Yep! I’ve decided! Oh, I drew frogs in class, I’ll be right back.” Distracted, Yeojin ran towards the stairs, and you shared a smile with your wife, tucking your phone back into your pocket.

“That worked great,” you whispered, and she laughed, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

“No kidding. Although I guess we’re stuck getting her a puppy now.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, listening as Yeojin tumbled through her room upstairs. You wanted to cherish these moments while you still could. She wouldn’t be little forever. “But it’s totally worth it.”

“You’re right. One day, we’ll look back at this and miss it.”

“So let’s not waste a moment.”

[katherinewilliams221b]

A very Walsh Christmas

Summary: Charlie and Kate spend the day before Christmas at Kate’s grandfather’s house. Set in 1995 but I apologise if there’s some inaccuracies (Don’t think so but…)

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc

A/N: Long ass fic. I’m sick and in bed and in the mood to write. I wanted to do a holidays special. OH and ALSO brace yourselves for a Charlie Weasley POV.

I wish you all happy holidays. Raise a glass to all your loved ones.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Why are you asking that just in front of your grandfather’s house, we can’t go back now!”

For weeks I had been trying to convince Kate that spending the holidays with her family was a good idea. We had, in fact, spent one Christmas alone in Romania and although it was a nice rest from the chaotic atmosphere of the Burrow, it ended with both of us secretly miserable.

Now standing in front of Kate’s grandfather’s house, in the village of Stanton, staring at the Christmas decorations on the door, I found myself more nervous than when I first went to Romania.

I couldn’t help but shift in my place and I looked down at the bottle I was carrying; a fine firewhiskey if I dare say myself, and it better be, because I spent an entire week choosing one.

“Alright, I’m positively freezing, I’m going to ring.” I heard her say. Before she did, a deep voice near us startled me.

“If you are not going in, leave the presents at the door and leave.” A man with red cheeks and a smirk on his face was leaning on the nearest window to the door, from inside the house.

“Grandpa!” Kate’s eyes lit under the streetlights and that was the only thing that made all my insecurities go away.

“The door’s open, what are you waiting for? Snow? Can make it snow in a second, look.” Kate squealed when a snowball appeared out of nowhere and hit her full on the head. She rapidly opened the door and shook her hair out of the snow. I followed her closing the door behind me.

“Grandpa! You have to improve your snowflakes…”

“Ah, a stór, fashionably late, I see. You happen to have snow on your hair.” Kate shook her head and smiled, a sight so rare these days I couldn’t help but stare.

They hugged, tight and long, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to watch or look away. Giving them space, I focused on the entrance of the house. I could hear the crackling of fire at my right and also a set of voices accompanying it. A clock on the wall marked 7:32 in the evening, we were fashionably late indeed, and to the left I imagined there was the table set with dinner.

“And you must be the famous Charles Weasley.” He comically bowed and I shook the hand he offered. I was strangely relieved by the look in his eyes and managed to relax slightly. I looked up at Kate, questioning about my popularity status but she avoided my gaze, a lovely shade of pink appearing on her cheeks.

“Yes, Sir. You can call me Charlie.”

“And you can call me Bernard!” He added so cheerfully that I had to smile. Suddenly I remembered my gift.

“Here, this is for you.” I handed him the whiskey and he inspected it with such a scrutiny that I felt the need to apparate to Romania just in one jump.

“Ah, but this is just perfect, we will have it with dessert. Excuse me for a moment.” Bernard left the entrance hall, leaving me alone with Kate. She had changed her shoes into a pair of fluffy slippers.

“I got you a pair, too, you’ll be more comfortable.” She grabbed the bags I was carrying and my coat and scarf and left for a moment as well. I had changed into the slippers when she came back.

“This is going to be madness.” She said putting her hands around my neck. I had a brief second to appreciate her dark green dress and black stockings, she does look good in green.

“You’ve been in my house, you know what that’s like.” I replied hugging her waist.

“Yes, but my family…”

“Is family.” End of discussion. Let’s do this, dear Godric I think I’m going to pass out. “Shall we?”

She guided me to the living room where a tree was set with multiple presents under it. Kate’s family stopped talking as soon as we entered.

“Katie!” A woman with chestnut hair stood up abruptly and hugged Kate tight to her chest. I recognized her to be her mother.

“Nat, you are going to suffocate our daughter.” Joseph Williams set his glass of bubbling liquid on the table and went to hug her as well.

“I don’t think, we’ve actually met, I’m Natalia, Katie’s mom, she offered a hand and I shook it. “Charlie, Charlie Weasley.” I couldn’t help comparing her to Mom, and how she would have crushed in a hug whoever I introduced her to. Very much the way she did with Kate when they first met.

“Of course, Kate told us a lot about you in her letters, I received the last one while I was in Bangkok, ah, I remember that time well.”

Kate’s father offered me a hand as well, a very firm and strong hand, and nodded once. “Mr. Williams.” I tried to smile but the man was certainly intimidating.

A blonde woman got up from the couch, she looked a lot like Kate’s mom.

“Ugh, come on, Nat, you can’t help but slip into minimal conversation one of your trips. Cornelia Walsh, enchantée.” I awkwardly grabbed her hand, but I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to kiss it or shake it. Luckily for me, I felt a familiar hand pressed against my lower back and it was like Kate was absorbing all of the tension.

“Charlie, this is my aunt, Cornelia, and her husband, Secondo.”

“I am actually the third of all my siblings, so I don’t really understand the joke there.” The man shook my hand and I saw from the corner of my eye how Kate’s aunt rolled her eyes.

“Are you going to say that every time we meet someone?”

To my disappointment, Joseph dragged Kate away from me and put an arm around her shoulders guiding her to the dining room and everybody followed. “So, tell me, what does Dumbledore have to say about the conference with the Albanian government?”

Dinner went by with minimal problems, Kate’s grandfather had put some background music in a machine that Dad would certainly adore. He also made sure I was comfortable and was the only one to conversate with me.

It wasn’t once that Katie put a hand on my knee and caressed there absentmindedly, and it was a test to my auto control not to play with her hair or caress her neck in return.

I was excitedly sharing with Bernard some of the details about my dissertation about the Ukrainian Ironbelly when I heard Katie’s brother’s name in the conversation near me. It was clear that it was heading into an argument and my suspicions were rapidly confirmed.

“Oh, don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same!” Kate put the fork down with too much force and the cutlery on the table shook.

“It doesn’t matter what I would have done or not, you put your life in danger and others around you!” shouted her father.

“Oh, well at least I was doing something about it!”

“How dare you!” Kate’s mother rose abruptly and threw her napkin on the table, leaving the room.

“How can you say that, Katherine, it was my son you are talking about, don’t you think for one second that I didn’t try to get him back.” He didn’t shout, and that was more telling than anything he could have done. The hurt in his voice was clear to anyone with ears, and my heart broke for all the parents who’ve lost a child. He rose too and left the room presumably to comfort his wife. I watched how Katie’s jaw tensed and then how she closed her eyes briefly before going after him.

A tense silence surrounded us, and Cornelia’s voice seemed ten times louder when she talked.

“It’s never easy for them, you know, especially on holidays.” I nodded, not knowing how to reply. I had been there for her at Hogwarts and I will always be, I had cried Jacob’s death like it was my own brother.

Bernard sighed and proceeded to clean the table. I stood up and helped take the empty plates to the kitchen.

The second course was served, and Bernard insisted it was no use waiting for the rest to join us. Cornelia was in the middle of a very amusing story about a certain apparition test she had to examine.

“You know, as an apparition examiner, I’ve seen a lot of things, horrible things as well splinchings are serious business, but when that kid appeared tangled in the chandelier, I just couldn’t help but burst out laughing in the middle of the court.” I chuckled despite myself and made my best efforts to not give away my apparition abilities.

“Charlie had to take the test twice.” Kate’s voice invaded the small place when she appeared from the hall. Bloody hell, woman, you never give me a rest. She clearly had been crying but when I looked at her, she just smiled at me and I almost forgave her for humiliating me more. “Appeared on top of a poor muggle lady doing her shopping.”

“Really? Well, darling, don’t worry about that, I’ve seen worse.” Kate’s aunt wanted to make me feel better, I knew that, but I also knew that my face was probably matching my hair.

“Well at least I don’t have to sit down for fifteen minutes every time I make a jump…” I replied to Kate. She was left with her mouth open but smiling while the rest chuckled and her grandfather laughed before taking a sip from his wine.

“Alright, mister…” she chuckled and playfully tugged at the short ponytail low in my neck. When Mr and Mrs Williams came back, the mood was light again and I got the chance to relax and talk with everyone at the table.

Dessert came around and I was surprised with the outburst from Kate’s aunt.

“I can’t believe you tried to buy a crushing cabinet!” Cornelia stormed out of the room and her husband followed suit. “My love, it was on sale and I…” I consider myself a perceptive man, but I honestly didn’t see that the conversation was going to take that turn.

“This carrot cake is really good, grandpa, is it grandma’s recipe?” Bernard cleaned the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “It is, indeed, a stór. Your grandmother had the best cooking skills I have ever seen. When we were starting dating, as you would say, back in Ireland, I remember one summer when my Julie came home, a bunch we were, yes, all squeezed around a table that was as well the kitchen. And she came home with a radiant smile and some onions and can you believe she cooked for everyone! Everyone in the house gained at least five pounds that day, even young Sean who was all flesh and bones. Here let me…”

He rounded the table and opened a cabinet. “…grab the pictures…” This was obviously a frequent activity because Kate and her parents started to complain.

“Come on, Dad, we’ve seen those pictures a thousand times already!” said Natalia. Her father ignored her completely and shoved a leather album into my hands. “Look, lad, that’s what a full house looks like.” I opened the album to reveal several pictures scattered through the pages and I smiled. “Oh, I know how it feels, I have five brothers and a sister.”

“Five brothers and a sister! Ha!” He chuckled low and deep “That’s half a family, son. Look, look at it.” He tapped the pictures with his finger before clearing away the plates on the table again.

Kate felt the need to come to my rescue because she moved her chair and pressed herself against my shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She whispered in my ear, but I could hear the amusement in her voice. I shook my head and turned a page, there was something odd in the images.

“Wait. They’re not moving?” Bernard returned from the kitchen wearing pink rubber gloves. “Of course not! Who would have paid for that?” He wiggled his fingers and returned to the kitchen. “My Julie always said, Berny, I don’t care you can do magic! Don’t be a lazy bastard and wash the dishes! Been doing it the muggle way for years now.” He said from the kitchen. “Nat, dear, help me with this would ye.”

“Yes, Da.” Kate’s mother stood up and disappeared to the kitchen as well.

“Well, why don’t we go to the living room, we will be more comfortable.” Offered Joseph.

“I agree!” Kate rushed to secure all the albums into the cabinet again and took my arm guiding me through the entrance hall again and into the living room. “What do you not want me to see?” I whispered. She hesitated but answered me anyway. “Baby pictures.” My eyes widened and I turned to the room we’ve just left but she gripped my arm more securely and held me in place. “Oh, I want to see those!”

“Absolutely not.” She laughed and sat down on the couch in front of the fire.

“I believe you brought some firewhiskey, Charles?” I interpreted his tone as a good signal, maybe we had broken the ice. “Yes, yes, I don’t know where Mr Walsh put it…”

“I have it right here.” He pushed a trolley with some drinks and glasses and served a small cup for everyone. He handed us the drinks and sat down next to Kate, leaving me the armchair next to the couch for me alone. I know perfectly well that Katie drinks out of obligation, so I watched closely as her face contorted in displeasure when she took a sip.

I smiled into my glass before taking a sip myself just before Cornelia and Secondo entered the room.

“So, what were you talking about?” Cornelia demanded. “Oh! Look, honey, it’s your favourite!” She grabbed the glasses of firewhiskey and sat on a loveseat near the window.

“Grandpa took out the photographs.” Said Kate

“Ugh, every time, every time.” Cornelia tsked and then chuckled “That man. Now tell me: how long you’ve been together?” The question took me by surprise and I almost choked on my drink. I met Kate’s gaze and we both shrugged trying to do the math.

“I think…four, five years?” She offered and I nodded “More or less, yes.”

“Oh, that’s a long time! I can’t imagine being with someone for that long. How did you meet?” I resisted the urge to laugh at her husband’s expression and sipped from my glass again. I looked at Kate and we silently agreed that she would answer the interrogation.

“At Hogwarts, in fourth year, I believe. How did you two meet?” Ah, my Katie, queen of never giving too much details about her life. I’ve never been a man of many words and I admit I become slightly nervous when asked about other than my job. And although I prefer to keep our private lives private, I sometimes find the urge to explain every detail of Kate’s life with me and, why not, brag about it as much as I can.

“A toast!” I heard the deep voice of Kate’s grandfather announce. Immersed in my own thoughts I didn’t notice we were reunited all again. “To family, blood or not. To the ones we love and love us back, to the ones we lost but will always be in our hearts. And to the holidays, that give us the opportunity to be together once again.”

“Cheers!” After a round of clinking our glasses, I let myself shrunk in my seat and I stared at the fire. It was peaceful for a moment, the soft music, the lights, the fire.

I looked at Kate, and to my surprise she was looking back at me. She gave me a beautiful smile and I tried to take a mental picture of it. If I were more comfortable, I would have grabbed her hand and dragged her to sit with me and maybe try to steal a kiss or two. At the Burrow I would have done that without thinking.

“Hey!” Cornelia’s voice startled me “It’s Christmas already!” On cue, the clock in the hallway gave twelve o'clock and I stood up to greet everyone. Katie approached me and put a hand on my shoulder before pressing her lips against mine in a short but sweet kiss.

“Merry Christmas” she murmured. I put a strand of hair that had loosened from her clip behind her ear, the only gesture I was allowing myself to indulge. “Merry Christmas, Katie.”

“Let’s open some presents!” Said Bernard joyfully.

“Wait! I got ours in the closet!” Kate rushed to the hallway where she had put our belongings.

I watched how everyone talked and opened their presents, I am very proud of our selection of the watch we got to Kate’s father, he seemed quite taken with it. I had no clue that new omnioculars could make someone so happy, but Natalia was happily explaining some story about them in Egypt.

I wanted to participate in that conversation, having been in Egypt myself with my family, but someone put a hand on my shoulder distracting me. Bernard appeared from behind and gave me a meticulously wrapped present. Oh, I wasn’t expecting that.

“Here, lad. As soon as my Katie told me you were coming, I got this for ye.” In a million years I would have expected any member of her family would give me a gift and I was so touched by the gesture I ended up staring at the present instead of opening it. “Come on, son, I’m going to get old waiting.”

I did as he said, and I was even more impressed when I found what was inside: a copy of From Egg to Inferno: a Dragon’s keeper’s guide. I smiled and caressed the cover. I have read this book over thirteen times, but the fact that he bothered to look for something I might enjoy filled me with warmth.

“Thank you so much, sir. I’m touched.” He smiled and I saw the exact same expression that Kate has, just for a moment.

“You are welcome, son.” He hugged me and clapped my back twice.

“I have something for you, too.” Said a sweet voice behind me. Kate stood with her arms on her back and a smirk on her face. She handed me an envelope with my name on it. It was a letter. I turned it but there was no remittent, so I looked up at her.

“I had to erase it so it wouldn’t ruin anything.” She chuckled nervously, “Come on, open it.”

I did as she said and started reading.

Dear Charles Weasley,

I was told very insistently that I wrote a letter back to you instead of the original remittent.

Due to the multiple letters that arrived to me I decided to address the first one, which had attached parts of a manuscript draft that I believe you are the author of.

I read it thoroughly and I was very pleased with the contents of it, I certainly require a copy of the book when finished, I intend to buy it legitimately, of course.

I am particularly interested in your campaign to set free the Ukrainian Ironbelly that it’s been held captive inside the bank of Gringotts, and I support the cause wholeheartedly. Whenever you feel it’s appropriate, I am at your disposal to discuss the details. 

Best regards,

Newt Scamander

P.S I kept the draft to read it one more time, but I will not mind sending it back to its legitimate owner, if you happen to want it back, please indicate so in a letter.

I don’t remember how many times I read the letter, probably too many, because my lack of response was making Kate shift in her place in front of me.

“Are you angry that I sent him your draft without your permission?” She said softly. I looked up at her and I could see she was afraid of my answer. How could I be? I hadn’t even considered sending it to Newt Scamander, THE Newt Scamander, believing he wouldn’t bother reading it. And she, on her line of making possible the impossible, made my dreams come true.

“I just…you gave it to me to read it, and I thought it was brilliant, I did have to use a couple of books to understand some parts of it but…” she chuckled nervously again and that threw me out of my trance.

I grabbed the letter and the book in one hand and hugged her as tight as I could. She lost her balance and laughed, but I wouldn’t let her fall. She hugged me back and I forgot where we were or that probably we were being watched by her family. That didn’t matter at the moment.

Sounds of an argument caught our attention and we separated.

“When were ye gonna tell me ye were not goin’ to be ‘ere for Christmas?” Bernard’s anger accentuated his accent. “Ye said ye were goin’ to stay!”

“Da, please, you know how it is, I must be in South Africa tomorrow morning.”

“And what in the bloody hell you lost in South Africa that’s more important than your family, Natalia!”

Kate sighed beside me and said, “Would you help me pick up all the wrapping paper?” I nodded knowing what she meant and grabbed the few papers scattered on the floor. She quietly exited the room and I followed, leaving the argument behind us.

I watched move her wrist and the wrapping paper elevated in the air floating towards the kitchen. She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards a room behind the stairs. “Wait! Wait! I got you a present as well!” I rushed towards the hall and picked up the box I brought “It’s not going to be as special as your gift, but…here.”

The room was clearly a studio, with big bookshelves covering the walls, a wooden desk with multiple drawers on it and some artefacts I couldn’t identify.

She had that particular look in her eyes when she knows something that I don’t, bloody hell it’s impossible to surprise her. I watched how she curiously opened the box and I was pleased when she seemed genuinely surprised. She gasped and a wave of pride washed over me.

She is not a girl that waits for you to give her a present, if she wants something, she gets it. Auto Gifts she calls them, but I wanted to do something nice for her and I anticipated. We were indulging in some ‘us time’ in Bucharest, away from the chaos of the magic world, the problems, the thought of a war, just a couple taking a walk under the city lights. It was a moment, just a split of second, in mid-conversation she had stolen a look to a hat shop’s showcase. I didn’t give it much thought until I found an opened Witch Weekly Magazine in her workplace back at home. She hadn’t told me about it, so I figured that she hadn’t decided yet.

“Oh, Charlie, this is…too much.” She took out the witch hat I got her: black with dark blue velvet inside and golden threads on the top. “Love, this is too expensive, I… I’m not working at the moment and…”

“You like it?” I knew she did because she hadn’t taken her eyes away from it.

“This is not practical, I…”

“It’s not supposed to be practical, it’s a gift, but do you like it?”

“I… I do! Oh, Merlin, this is perfect, how…?”

“Because I know you.” She put it on and posed for me.

“How do I look?”

“Positively beautiful.” She smiled and ran to a mirror on the wall where she looked at her reflection and squealed.

“It came with these…uh, things,” I took out a small bag with some star and moon pendants inside of it. “You can hang them on it, if you want, that is.”

“Thanks.” She walked up to me and grabbed my cheeks, probably burning by now, and leaned to kiss me. The hat had other thoughts, and my forehead collided with its wing. We both started laughing and I threw my head back.

“Hey, look, it matches with the ceiling.” I hadn’t noticed before, but the entirety of the ceiling was painted as a dark sky, a deep dark blue with stars all over it. She looked up as well and we stood there, what a sight to see! Both hugging and looking up at nowhere.

“Your grandmother painted it.” Said a voice from the door. Kate’s grandfather stood leaning on the doorframe. “I apologise for the scene” he said “My, my, there’s a witch in my house!” He joked and we both laughed, but I noticed the sadness of his eyes.

“I assume you won’t be here tomorrow either.”

Kate sighed and drew away from me, guilt all over her face.

“We thought we could spend today here and tomorrow with his family; his father’s been badly injured, and we were planning on visiting him at the hospital.” This was not right. Mom always said that no one should spend the holidays alone, that it misses the point completely.

“Mr Walsh,” I began

“Bernard, please,” he corrected

“Bernard, I invite you to spend Christmas day with my family.” Kate looked at me and I saw from the corner of my eye that she smiled.

“Oh, no, no, no, son…”

“I insist, “I interrupted “Mom cooks for a whole army anyway and they won’t mind another guest. I know it’s going to look like just half a family for you but, they always make everyone feel at home.”

“Perhaps, it would be nice…”

“It will.” Said Kate putting and arm around my waist.

“That’s settled, then.” I said. Kate turned around to grab the box and gasped. “Look! It’s snowing!” She rushed to the window behind the desk and the other members of the family came to investigate what was the commotion about.

We ended up all gathered together, pressed against the window watching the snow cover the street.

“My Julie said there was something magical in watching snow fall.” Bernard commented, and he was right, even though in Romania we have our fair share of snow every year, Kate and I always find ourselves staring out of the window for a few peaceful moments.

She rested her head on my shoulder, trying not to poke my face with the hat, and I hugged her waist.

“But that’s just because you always conjured snow just to fall in front of her!” Accused Cornelia with an amused tone.

“Certainly not!” He tried to cover the lie but ended up laughing anyway spreading it to the rest of us. I squeezed Kate’s hip and she turned to look at me.

“Ready for round two tomorrow?” Her eyes widened at the thought of a Weasley Christmas and we ended up chuckling together.

Despite all the mess that our lives were at the moment it was a nice rest, and it was certainly a holiday that I wouldn’t forget.

-

(Part 2/3)

[collecting-stories]

I’m Pine-ing for You

A/N: The second chapter of my Christmas fic.

Christmas Mingle Masterlist

_* ◦ ❅ . ❄︎ * ∙ ◦ . _

Ariana Grande crooned over the tinny radio in the gift shop as Audrey browsed, trying to maximize her day off and finish the last of her Christmas shopping. It was futile, she knew that much, but she had bundled up for the cold weather and headed out to walk around Main Street, hoping some kind of good would come from searching. Even if all it yielded was a new candle for her apartment. Most of her family was generic enough to settle for giftcards from Target but she still went out, as if she would find something that anyone would appreciate more than the basic $25 card. 

Just like every year though, she was browsing more for herself than anyone else, halfway through the display of handmade ceramic mugs, when she heard Jeff's familiar timbre. She'd only gone on one date with him so far but it didn't matter, she could probably pick out his voice in a line up. It was deep and not to raspy and she could've listened to him talk forever. But now that she thought about it, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to "run into" him here. And when she looked over toward the door she realized he was with his son. She hadn't seen any pictures of Charlie but if that tall-for-his-age kid beside Jeff wasn't his son she'd be shocked. 

Audrey was in the back of the store, not poised to sneak out without having to walk right passed him. If there was one thing she truly hated it was running into people, something that happened a lot more frequently in her life now that she worked retail. There was nothing that compared to being trapped by an old school acquaintance as she rang up their groceries. She thought about turning and heading further into the store but there was no pretending that she hadn't seen Jeff, especially as her hand paused mid-grabbing a mug off the shelf, when he called her name. 

"Christmas shopping?" Jeff asked, stepping up beside her in the narrow aisle of the shop. 

"Well," Audrey looked over at him, "I tell myself that but honestly, I'm just shopping for me." 

"Nothing wrong with that," he replied and Audrey cracked a smile.

"You're very agreeable, you know that?" She pointed out. He'd been the same on their date, agreeable on all fronts. About her divorce, her disinterest in her current job, her lack of enthusiasm for the Christmas season. 

"Maybe we just agree on things?" He suggested. 

"Well then, I know who to call for a second opinion." Audrey replied, glancing over to the small section of kids toys, Jeff's spitting image crouched on the ground looking over a puzzle, "Is that Charlie?" She didn't know if day-after-the-first-date was too soon to meet his son but it wasn't like he was formally introducing them so she didn't feel too bad about asking. 

"Yeah that's Charlie," Jeff nodded, looking over, "kiddo's supposed to be helping me shop for other people's presents but it looks like he's picking out a few things to add to his list."

"Kid after my own heart," Audrey teased. "I'm not sure I could be of any actual help, Charlie and I seem to share a shopping gene, but I could lend a hand picking out some things if you want?" She wasn't sure that inviting herself to spend the afternoon with him was really an appropriate, normal thing to do, but she couldn't help herself. The words had come tumbling out of her mouth faster than she could think them. Something about Jeff just seemed to make the temptation of spending her day off completely by herself pale in comparison to spending the day with him. She couldn't remember a time when she felt this way about someone, even with Chris, even in the beginning when everything was new and supposedly exciting, she sought out moments when she could be alone. 

"Alright, but I have two stipulations," Jeff replied, picking up one of the mugs to look it over, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I take the credit for all the gifts, and you provide the coffee."

"I provide the coffee? How is that fair? What are you providing?" Audrey said.

"The company." He shrugged as if it was totally obvious, Audrey laughing out loud, turning more toward him when the shopkeeper looked over at the sudden sound of them disturbing the ambiance of the store. 

"It's a deal." She kept her voice down as she moved further down the aisle, pointing out a sun-catcher that was hanging on display. "Anyone?"

"Not even close." He replied. "I'm gonna rethink this deal if you can't hold up your end of the bargain." 

"To be fair, you haven't given me any information to go on." Audrey pointed out, still holding onto the sun-catcher, contemplating a place for it in her own apartment. 

Before Jeff could say anything else Charlie had found him, clutching a puzzle box to his chest he came over, stepping in front of his dad to show off his find. "Look, it's 1000 pieces...I've never done 1000 pieces before." 

Audrey smiled, mouthing '1000 pieces' when Jeff caught her eye passed his son. He grinned and nodded, giving in to Charlie's request. 

"Alright, we'll put it aside for break." He offered, taking the box from Charlie, "but you're supposed to be looking for something for something for your grandma."

"I am!" Charlie insisted.

"In the toy area?" 

When Audrey snickered at Jeff's comment Charlie turned to look at her, a wide smile on his face at the sight of the stranger. "Hi." 

"Hey." She greeted, smiling at the young boy. 

"I'm Charlie," He introduced himself, holding his hand out to shake hers. 

Audrey took the seven year old's hand, shaking as she introduced herself, "Audrey." 

Never one to miss anything, Charlie had noticed the look that his dad had given Audrey immediately, even as he was talking about the puzzle that he wanted. 

"How do you know my dad?" He asked blatantly.

"I, uh..."

"Audrey's a friend of mine," Jeff supplied, putting his hand on his son's shoulder to get his attention. 

Charlie leaned his head back, looking up at Jeff and giving him a toothy grin. "Can she shop with us?" He asked. 

"Well, don't ask me." Jeff replied. 

"Can you shop with us?" Charlie asked, looking back at Audrey, "I need help picking a gift for my nana."

"I would love to help you."

Charlie stepped away from his dad, grabbing Audrey's hand to lead her away from Jeff and toward the back of the store. Audrey glanced back over her shoulder at Jeff, biting her lip as she smiled at him. Charlie was a well adjusted kid for his age, comfortable talking to adults happy to spend time hanging out with Jeff. He knew there were enough people in his son's life, family included, that pressured him about the way Charlie behaved. They wanted a kid that was less used to spending the majority of his week with his dad and they wanted Jeff to be more interested in dating and less interested in fathering his kid. 

His mom had been thrilled, the night before, to babysit her grandson when she heard that Jeff had a date. It had been since his late wife passed away that he had gone out and before then she was the only one he had dated in years. 

-

"It's just been so long," she had lamented, following her son into the kitchen, attempting a whisper as she spoke. "You deserve to be happy-"

"I am happy ma," Jeff promised, writing out any information she might need while he was gone. Phone numbers, the name of the restaurant he was going to, Charlie's pre-bed schedule. 

"Happy with someone in your life. Someone who can help you raise Charlie. I know you don't agree but, he needs a mother figure."

"Charlie doesn't need a 'mother figure' and it's one date ma, I'm not gonna marry this woman." 

"You don't know that." Jeff's mom replied, adamant on her stance about the date. She had been trying to convince Jeff to get back into dating for a few years now. She knew it was hard, losing his wife so quickly after Charlie was born, and she felt like she had waited an appropriate amount of time but, around two years ago, she had started dropping hints. Mentions here and there about women that she knew from church or even just 'eligible singles' that she saw at  the grocery store. She had very little in the way of requirements.

"Please just watch him for the night and don't read too much into this?" 

"Is it so wrong to be optimistic?" She asked, "it's been a long time since you've even considered dating." 

"I'll call you on my way home, I'll just be down the street at the brewhouse."

-

Audrey crouched down so she could get a better look at the bottom shelf of the display where Charlie was checking out a few different glass blown ornaments. She reached for one, a red teardrop shaped ornament that was crackled and, when she held it up to the light, glistened. 

"That's really pretty!" Charlie exclaimed, taking it from her when she handed it over to him. 

"I think so too," Audrey replied, "what do you think about it as a gift?"

"I don't know," he pouted, nose scrunching as he inspected the ornament in greater detail, "dad, would nana like this?" 

"Is there a pink one in there?" Jeff asked, looking over from the display of candles he'd been going through. He liked everything about Christmas aside from having to buy gifts for people. Charlie was easy, he always knew what his son wanted. It was everyone else that gave him a headache. "She'll probably love that."

Charlie dug through the box of ornaments, careful that nothing broke, successfully pulling out a pink one, "I found a pink one!"

Audrey took the red one back, turning it over in her hand once more before putting it back in the box. 

"You should get that one." Charlie pointed out, "you could put it on your tree."

"Oh gosh," Audrey laughed, "I actually don't have a tree." She confessed. 

Putting up a tree had been the least of her worries this year, not even a table top had made it's way into her house though she'd spent plenty of time on pinterest and instagram scrolling through the holiday decorations of influencers who's lives appeared much more together than her own. 

"No tree?" Charlie looked absolutely offended at the thought of anyone not having a tree for Christmas, "dad! Dad!" 

"Yeah bud?" Jeff asked, tearing his attention away from a case of handmade necklaces that he shouldn't have been looking through so  early on in knowing Audrey when it was clearly her  he had in mind. 

"Audrey doesn't have a tree," the disbelief, even as he repeated what he already knew, was on par with the discovery of Santa's fraudulence. "We can get you a tree?" He reasoned, turning back to look at her, wide, eager eyes. 

"I really don't have a lot of ornaments." Audrey admitted. 

The first time she had told Chris that she needed space they had both assumed that she would be back within the month. But then two months passed and three months and she drove passed the house but it felt foreign to her. So she said it again, she needed space, mountains of it, years of it, more space than he could ever give her. And when she set foot inside the house for the last time to take what she deemed hers from a short lifetime of theirs, she left all but a shoebox of decorations. 

"Oh well," Jeff was smiling at her like whatever he said she'd be hanging on, "you happen to be in the presence of the best ornament chooser in the entire world." He pointed to Charlie as he spoke, indicating it was the seven year old who possessed all the expertise of Christmas decoration. 

"Really?" She attempted her best look of skepticism as Charlie nodded his head in agreement with his father. 

"Dad buys me a new ornament every year that I pick out all on my own." He replied as proof of his skill. 

Audrey agreed, unable to say no to Charlie. He was too sweet and she was enjoying spending time with him and Jeff too much. It was arguably some sort of honeymooning phase, she reasoned, that had her this invested in a guy that she had only been on one date with but she couldn't help it. This was just a for the holidays thing, a see where this goes, nothing special, thing that didn't have too mean too much. She didn't have to read too much into every look and every touch, didn't have to take everything so seriously, and still she was eagerly agreeing to spending the rest of her afternoon with Jeff and Charlie. 

"I gotta tell you Charlie," Audrey said as she walked through the Christmas tree lot with him, "I am no tree expert. I haven't had a real tree since I was a kid." 

"That's okay," he promised, "I'm the best tree chooser there is." 

Jeff walked just behind the pair, listening to his son discuss the important parts of the tree and how to pick the best one, talking with such authority that his bullshitting was almost believable. Once Charlie got started on a topic it was nearly impossible for him to stop and he loved showing off whatever knowledge he might have, be it minimum or not. 

"Expert ornament chooser and expert tree chooser?" Audrey asked, glancing back at Jeff with amusement. Jeff grinned back at her. 

"What can I say?" Charlie replied, "Christmas is the best time of the year."

"I can't argue with that."

"Besides, if you don't get a tree then how is Santa going to bring you presents?" Charlie asked, a look of distress washing over his features as his eyes met hers. The thought had just occurred to him and yet it was a troubling one.

"That explains the lack of gifts the last few years...I think Santa is still delivering all my presents to my parents' house." She teased. 

"Do you live by yourself?" Charlie asked, intrigued by the new development. 

If Jeff was eager to learn more about Audrey than Charlie was tenfold. He asked questions about her job and her house and what her favorite Christmas activity was. Jeff wasn't sure if it was just her being too polite to ignore Charlie's questions or if she was truly interested in what he had to say but she listened and chatted. Dating hadn't been something that Jeff had kept at the top of his to-do list and he definitely hadn't introduced too many people to his son. A few close friends, those that knew him before his wife passed away, but no one that he seriously considered spending his life with. Not that he was thinking that far in advance now but getting to know Audrey was definitely something he wanted to continue doing. 

The three of them circled the tree lot more times then Jeff felt necessary, scouring rows of evergreens that he was sure they had already examined until Charlie finally spotted the spruce that he wanted. He let out a shout of exclamation at the sight and broke out in a dash as if someone else might discover the tree before he could reach it. "This one!" He announced, standing in front of the tree and waving his arms to draw their attention to it.

"That one is..." Audrey looked at the tree on display, imagining the trip up the stairs and sheer mass of it sitting in her small apartment, "big." It seemed like the only logical adjective to describe the tree she was staring at.

"Big trees are the best trees." Charlie insisted, "you can get the most ornaments on." 

"Maybe you can, I'm still lacking in the ornament department." Audrey replied. A shoebox full was not enough for a tree that was threatening six feet tall. She'd been hoping that the seven year old would settle on something more akin to a tabletop but he seemed determined that the green giant was going to be part of Audrey's Christmas. 

"We can get you more ornaments." 

"Don't fight it," Jeff teased, coming up beside her. His hand fell to the small of her back, turning just slightly toward her so that he could whisper in her ear, away from Charlie's heightened hearing, "he's never gonna give in."

"I think I've already figured that one out." Audrey replied, looking at Jeff, unable to stop herself from smiling. 

Tree decided on, Charlie was as determined as ever to find ornaments that would go perfectly. He insisted that they not be too uniform, complaining, at seven, about the odd need for trees on television shows to have a ribbon woven through them. The strong opinions he had about Christmas were entertaining, to say the least, and Audrey didn't fight them. She had been content without all the fuss, happy to let Christmas happen the same way that it did every year but now she found herself letting Jeff haul a tree up her steps and into her apartment.

Charlie seemed as enamored by her tiny house as he did by her, rushing to the window to look out on the street that he'd walked around on a hundred times. "Dad!" He called, face close to the window pane, unbothered by the hint of cold that seeped in through the the old wood and glass. 

Jeff let the tree slide off his shoulder, leaning the tree that was as tall as he was against his chest as he looked over at his son, "what's up Charlie?"

Audrey locked the door behind them, bags in one hand as she kicked her shoes off. She had stopped for some ornaments along the way, practically clearing out her Target's Christmas section. Marci had eyed her suspiciously as she checked out, fully aware of Audrey's disdain for the holiday season. She had ignored her co-worker though, rushing through self-checkout as quickly as possible so that she could avoid making Jeff and Charlie wait too long outside of her apartment. 

"Look!" Charlie called, waving Jeff over as if the tree wasn't heavy and unstable. "You can see Main Street."

"You should stay for dinner and see it at night with all the lights." Audrey replied, setting the bags down on the couch as she went over to help Jeff, "I can't believe you guys stopped and got a tree stand too."

"You can't have a tree without a tree stand." Jeff shrugged, "that seemed pretty obvious. Tree, tree stand, ornaments..."

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Audrey laughed, setting up the stand. 

While Jeff did most of the assembly in getting the tree in the stand and cutting it loose from the netting, Charlie rummaged through the bags of ornaments, sorting them into groups that he decided went together. The tree didn't take as long as Audrey thought it would but it did look a lot better in her apartment then she had first suspected when Charlie had spied it in the lot. Though it blocked a decent amount of her window view, the ornaments looked pretty with the lights and she had even brought out the shoebox of special ones that she kept in her bedroom. 

"Some of these are pretty old, they belonged to my great grandma." Audrey explained, setting the box on the coffee table and opening it up for Charlie to see. 

"This one is so cool!" He held up a blue bobble, handpainted with a horse and carriage in the snow. "My grandma got me an ornament decorating kit and I painted one with a Christmas tree." 

"I bet it looks really awesome," Audrey replied, taking the ornament from him so she could hang it up a little higher. 

"You should come over to see it!" Charlie looked thrilled at his idea, turning to his father in excitement, "what do you think dad? Could Audrey come over soon?"

Jeff looked over Charlie's head to Audrey, their eyes meeting as Audrey smiled. It seemed a natural occurrence when she was around Jeff though she didn't want to let herself think too hard on the matter. 

"I don't see why not." Jeff finally said. 

"Well, since you're here now, what should we get for dinner tonight?" Audrey asked, taking another ornament from Charlie to hang up. 

"Pizza!" He replied without hesitation. 

"Pizza it is," She agreed, stepping away from the tree to grab her phone, "any toppings?"

-

Dinner was served on the coffee table, the three of them sitting on the couch to watch TV, Charlie choosing It Happened on 5th Avenue as his Christmas movie of choice. He sat between them, enthralled in the film, announcing favorite scenes just before they happened. Audrey had steered clear of cliche Christmas films like It's a Wonderful Life or Love Actually for a while, longer that she had been single. She never cared for them and always found them cheesy and ridiculous. The leads falling in love all within a week, enamored with each other as if there was no one else in the world. As if falling in love at Christmas solved all their problems. But here she was, watching this old black and white film and actually enjoying it. 

It was nearly three quarters of the way through when Jeff felt Charlie slump against him more that he glanced down, realizing that his son had fallen asleep. Audrey seemed to pick up on Charlie's sleeping around the same time, pausing the film and asking if wanted to let Charlie nap in her bed. "Unless you two need to get home?" 

"We can stay a little while longer," Jeff replied, reluctant to go as it was. 

While he carried Charlie into the bedroom, laying him on the bed and covering him with a blanket, Audrey cleared away the pizza and closed the front window. She grabbed a bottle of wine from the cabinet and two glasses, meeting Jeff back in the living room.

 "Wine?"

"What've you got?" Jeff asked, taking the bottle from her.

"Just a red, it's from a subscription I get every month." She replied, "I could be paying for a gym but-"

"Wine is better than a gym," Jeff concluded, heading back to the couch with her. She let him pour the glasses, a little heavy handed though so was she. "I was thinking about what you said, about looking for something that wasn't working at Target."

"My glamorous part time job...what about it?" Audrey asked, taking a sip of her wine. 

"The art teacher at Charlie's school is going on maternity leave and I heard they posted the job online. I'm not trying to overstep or anything, just saw it and thought of you." 

"Well, I'm flattered that you thought of me. I'll look into it." She replied, "part of me would love it, honestly, and the other part is terrified to actually do something like that. I feel everything has moved really slowly but quickly at the same time for me." 

"I know the feeling well. Don't feel like you need to consider anything just cause I mentioned it." Jeff replied, "take everything at your own pace."

"I'll never move forward if I do that." Audrey admitted. 

"Well hey, nothing needs to be decided now...I mean, Christmas break is right around the corner."

"That's right, you have finals for your semester don't you?" Audrey asked. She wasn't sure why it hadn't occurred to her the entire time that they were out shopping or looking for a tree but it was as if she suddenly remembered that Jeff had actual work when class hours ended. 

"Coming up, yeah." He nodded. "I'll be spending the next four days prepping and grading essays." 

"I'll trade you bitchy, impatient customers who think I'm secretly stashing all the stuff they want so they can't find it?" Audrey offered.

"Now that you mention it, the papers are fine." He replied, smiling at her as he took a sip of wine, "so this party coming up? It's your co-worker's?"

"Co-worker/best friend." 

"How did that come about...if you don't mind my asking?" 

"I guess, all my other friends are friends with  Chris too you know? They knew us when we were dating, as our relationship progressed, they went to our wedding. When I left him and it wasn't for any "good" reason, I think they felt like I was overreacting." Audrey admitted. Even more than leaving and telling Chris she was never coming home, she could remember the distinct heartache that had followed her falling out with her best friend. The way Leah had accused her of being dramatic and foolish and told her that she was blowing things out of proportion. "I mean, he didn't cheat on me, he wasn't some awful guy...a little controlling sometimes but not to the magnitude of telling me what I could and couldn't do."

"If you don't love someone, you don't love someone. You can't stay in a relationship just because they're 'not a bad guy'." Jeff replied. 

"I feel bad telling you about all this honestly," she confessed, "I'm trying to divorce my husband, you lost your wife, that's...I feel silly having such superficial problems."

"It's not superficial." He reassured. "I met Hannah in my early 30's after I had broken up with a woman who wanted me to propose to her."

"Oh no," Audrey laughed, "you were one of those!"

Jeff nodded, "thought I didn't want commitment, I think I just, didn't feel like I knew what I wanted. But, I met Hannah through friends and we took things slow until she basically told me to propose or get out-"

"I like her."

"She was great. You know, it's hard...she passed away around the holidays. It would've been our first Christmas with Charlie." He replied, "I thought about not celebrating...took me weeks to put up a tree. He won't remember any of that but, it felt like something I had to do." 

"For Charlie or for yourself?" 

"Both of us, I guess. I didn't want him to feel like Christmas had this awful connotation, you know? I didn't want him to grow up feeling like he couldn't celebrate and he had to be sad." 

"When I moved out of my house with Chris it was just, easier not to celebrate. It was just me and it felt ridiculous to decorate this little apartment." Audrey admitted, looking over at the tree in front of the window, "seeing the tree up though, I kinda missed that."

"If you let Charlie come back again he'll probably put gifts under it for you just to make sure it looks official." 

"Charlie is awesome, you have an amazing kid." 

"Thank you, I think so most of the time." Jeff laughed. 

9 Days Until Christmas

"I gotta say, the cowboy boots are a touch I wasn't expecting." Jeff laughed as Audrey stepped out the front door of her apartment. She did a twirl, showing off the outfit she was wearing beneath her plaid coat. 

"Would you believe me if I told you they were a Footloose impulse buy after high school graduation?" Audrey asked. 

-

Not everything feels like something else, but holding on to a pair of red cowboy boots that went with nothing in her wardrobe simply because of the sentimentality felt a lot like being stuck in place. When she came back for her things, letting herself into the old house with two suitcases that her mom had been reluctant to give away ("can't you just work it out? Have you even tried?"),  she had almost left them. Sitting there on the bottom of her  shoe rack, accumulating the dust that was inevitable for something so rarely worn, she had thought of letting them go too. Was it symbolic? To leave both the boots and Chris behind? But she could bring herself to leave them the way she had left her marriage so she carried them out to the car and put them in the front seat and then, three years and five months later she wore them to a Kacey Musgraves concert with Cady. 

"Can't say I'm a fan of the film." Jeff admitted. 

"Is that your way of telling me that you don't recognize Ariel's iconic red cowboy boots?" And now she wore them again. Red cowboy boots paired with black stockings, a jean skirt that fit the persona of Midwest Christmas she was trying to pull off, and a sweater that was cuter then it was ugly. Pink with white pompoms and a sequined Jolly Old Saint Nick. Cady's holiday party would inevitably be as country as she wished she was and Audrey had every intention oof dressing for it. 

"It is." Jeff replied, "but you look beautiful." Audrey had mentioned her best friend's proclivity for all things Tennessee Christmas but that had done little to influence Jeff's outfit. Dark jeans and a cable knit sweater with boots. Nothing entirely special in the outfit, and Audrey had never been one to give men's fashion too much thought, but he certainly looked good. "I feel like I should've dressed the part more." He took Audrey's hand in his as they made the short trek across the street and down to the small parking lot a block away. 

"That's okay, when we inevitably sneak away from the party because, god love her but Cady's 'Yeehaw Christmas' is a little more than I think I can bear, you'll look like a normal person and I'll look-"

"Like you're in middle school?" Jeff teased. 

"Exactly like that," Audrey replied.

Comical as it was, Yeehaw Christmas was the perfect describer for the party that they walked into. Cady had outfitted her shared apartment with decorations that looked as if they had been purchased at Cabellas or maybe just a Dollar General. Cady's wasn't the only party a friend had invited Audrey to this season but it was the only one she committed to, at least, making an appearance at. Her other friends were friends with Chris and she knew he would be there too, as if it was all some elaborate plot to convince her that maybe she had made a mistake when she decided that they no longer fit in each other's lives. 

"You made it!" Cady shouted across the room, rushing over to wrap Audrey in a hug. Ten years made little difference to either of them. The idea of meeting your best friend at a retail job seemed like something that truly only happened on TV but Cady had been the  lifeboat back to normalcy after the heartache. "Oh god, I'm so glad you came!" 

"I said I was." Audrey insisted, pulling away from Cady. She was standing slightly in front of Jeff and when her eyes met Cady's she shifted her gaze subtly to the side, a look that screamed, 'I brought him'. 

Cady's eyes shifted over to Jeff, brushing her blond hair back as she looked up at him. He was taller than her. Like a tower. He was taller than Audrey and she was relatively tall, or so everyone always felt the need to say when she wore heels. Before she could say anything Audrey continued, introducing them. "Cady, this is Jeff. Jeff, my best friend Cady. 

"Thanks for letting me tag along." Jeff replied, handing over the bag that contained a small hostess invitation. "Audrey said you don't do wine."

Cady took the bag from him, pulling out a bottle of  grey goose. "Thank you! This is the best Christmas present ever!" She joked.

More partygoers came, allowing Audrey and Jeff a break from Cady as they made their way over to the kitchen and the counter space that was doubling as a bar for the evening. There were cheap flavored vodkas, tequila, whiskey, gin, and some bottles of red wine stuffed into the small space between the sink and the fridge. 

"Guess we have our pick?" Audrey asked, looking over her shoulder at Jeff. 

"I'll stick with the whiskey, seems like a safe option." He replied, "only cause I've heard of the brand." 

"What? No peppermint mocha vodka?" Audrey said, trying and failing not to sound completely grossed out by the suggestion of the flavor. 

Jeff laughed, "tell you what, if you do a shot I will do a shot." 

Audrey grabbed two shot glass sized red solo cups, never one to back down from a challenge, and poured the vodka in them. Truthfully, she just wanted to see him drink something as ridiculous  as Christmas themed vodka simply because he struck her entirely as a classy kind of drinker, even his beer on their first date had felt superior to all those cheap brands she'd snuck in high school. He was game for just about anything though, proving it as he kicked back a shot of the sweet liquor, feeling the faint burn of it down the back of his throat. 

"Can't say I love feeling like I just tossed a whole pack of spearmint gum in my mouth and lit it on fire." Jeff commented, sticking his tongue out for a second as if that would get rid of the taste. Audrey coughed around her shot, almost losing it but swallowing at the last second. She gagged and shook her head furiously at the tiny cup in her hand. 

"No." She finally said. "No, that was terrible."

"It was bad."

"It was...oh god, I need something after that." She replied. 

Jeff shifted bottles around until he found a decent red nestled in the back. "How's this?" He grabbed two cups from the stack, filling them a little more than he would a wine glass. 

"Works for me."

She took his arm, pulling him passed the fridge and a little further into the kitchen as people came in to grab drinks. Jeff moved with her, turning so his back was to the other couple and the two of them were in their own little corner. Audrey looked passed him, watching as a few more people came and went from the kitchen. 

"I really didn't feel like I was going to feel old being here but I totally do." Audrey muttered. 

"You feel old?" Jeff scoffed, "how do you think I'm feeling right now?" He brushed his hand through his hair to draw attention to the strands of gray there among the black. 

"Well, don't worry, I have no plans to stay the whole time," Audrey whispered as if someone would overhear her, "I love Cady but she can go forever if she's drunk enough and I definitely think she's on her way there."

-

Jeff opened the door to Charlie's room, the dinosaur nightlight in the corner glowing and painting the room a dim yellow. The party had been a short lived experience followed by a quick meal at a diner down the street from Cady's apartment. He and Audrey had sat there in the booth against the window, the conversation easy over burgers and fries. 

It had been fun, good even, to go out with Audrey and go to a stupid holiday party. Everything was fine until he walked in the front door. His mom was in the living room watching an old  Christmas special, a million questions on the tip of her tongue when he came inside. He'd managed to dodge most of them, skirting around details and specifics as he rushed her out the door and promised that he'd see her soon. He wasn't completely sure that he was ready to divulge details about Audrey to his mother. 

Back in his own room, Jeff sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling off his sweater and undershirt and tossing them over to the hamper. His eyes landed on the picture that sat on the dresser, the same picture he'd looked at a million times in the last seven years. It was a picture of him and Hannah on their wedding day, close enough that the bottom of her dress was cut off but it didn't matter, he could remember everything about that moment. That day had felt like a godsend, the moment in his life when everything felt like it was going right and he was finally on the right path. Jeff stood up, crossing the room and taking the picture off the dresser to look at it closer. 

Audrey popped into his unprompted as he stared down at the picture of his late wife. Was moving on something that he really wanted? He'd thought about it before but it never felt like the right time. He never felt ready to let go of Hannah's memory or the love he had for her. But he knew there was something different about Audrey. He didn't feel so much like loving her would be giving up Hannah. Something he hadn't felt once in the last seven years. Something he felt like he had to hold onto.