#my parents would take turns dressing up as father Christmas

[nana-au]

i have headcanons for church boy! yuta/eren. bear with me.

yuta would act innocent and be innocent.

eren would act innocent and actually be a fucking freak.

note: sorry to any religious readers, but for this drabble's sake, i am identifying reader as agnostic/atheist. please refrain from reading this fic if you may get offended. my intentions are not to disrespect anyone or their religion.

both of them were raised in the church, their fathers being pastors so they have this pressure to be good boys. i imagine they both wear the purity rings their family gave them and they spend all their free time at the church. helping their dad find topics for his sermons, volunteering at summer bible camp, putting up decorations for holidays, etc.

maybe you would meet them at bible study. at first you were annoyed your parents signed you up for it but once you saw the tall, dark haired boy at the front of the room you suddenly couldn't think of being anywhere better.

they both would be the spitting image of perfection. dressed in their sunday best, without a wrinkle on their dress shirt. eren would probably have his sleeves rolled up, his forearms flexing when he leaned across the table to help the girl in front of you find her page.

both of them would have spotless, leather shoes that went click clack click clack across the linoleum floor of the now sweltering bible study classroom.

yuta would be so enthusiastic leading the group. his smile genuine and his gelled hair a little messy from constantly running a hand through it. his dark eyes somehow became the lightest things in the room while he dived into passage after passage.

the two of them would introduce themselves to you upon noticing how lost you looked. your parents had decided to turn a new leaf, and suddenly you all went from only attending every christmas/easter service to your family attending every sunday sermon. to say the adjustment was unwelcomed for you would be sort of an understatement. you felt lost while listening to your pastor bring up names like 'corinthians'... and who even is 'matthew'? You were exhausted, and burnt out and how bad of a teacher would they be to not notice someone who needed some guidance in the teaching's of the lord?

yuta would introduce himself - his smile a permanent fixture on his face while he shakes your hand. "if you have any questions, please don't be afraid to ask," he promises you, "that's what I'm here for." his voice was soft and his hand would basically swallow yours in his grasp - but his grip on you was gentle. you could only nod, your ability to speak lost on you upon receiving his undivided attention. his presence could only be described as angelic. his eyes on you felt like sun rays on a cool summer day and his touch felt like water - quenching a thirst inside of you that you didn't realize you had. he caused your breath to catch in your throat but if he noticed he didn't point it out. he was far too polite for that. in reality, yuta was unaware of his affect on people; especially you. you knew that if he was aware - he wasn't the type to take advantage of it.

eren wouldn't be able to hold back a smirk watching you struggle to keep up with what everyone else seemed to understand with ease. he would come over to your table group, singling you out loudly in front of everyone, "having a little trouble?" ...to anyone who was used to seeing eren every day since a young boy they would believe his expression showed genuine concern. but all you saw was a man unwilling to hide his smirk as you stuttered your way through a verse. a man utterly amused being in the presence of a girl who wasn't raised the way he was. he always seemed to linger behind you after your first interaction with him. he watched you highlight the passages he read out loud and witnessed you doodling in the little notebook that was meant for you to annotate. he leaned over your chair, his arms caging you between him and his chest pressing against your back. "cute. but let's make sure we're focusing, hmm?" he whispered into your ear.

they both would end up inviting you to do private studies with them at their home - they were the pastor's son after all - and what better way to prepare to take over as pastor one day then to be able to bring an unbeliever into the light of god?

you couldn't deny them even if you tried. there was something about them that drew you closer.

eren was all-consuming. there was something about the way he carried himself - domineering almost. the tan skin of his neck flexing with every deep swallow he took - his gaze unnerving under the fluorescent lighting of the bible study room while he watched you thumb through the pages of your clearly unused bible.

yuta was electric. he held a youthful attitude towards everything. the kind of carefree only a man of faith could have; so sure of his beliefs and finding comfort in the stories he taught. he was kind, and warm... you hadn't thought it possible to find a man so gentle. or easily flustered.

you had realized the both of them had a deeper reasoning to invite you to study at their house - whether they were aware of it or not.

(pt. 2 coming soon i have to go to work :sob:)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Exchange

Warnings: allusions to parental abuse, non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: Your father surprises you for Christmas.

Character: Cole Turner

Day Twenty-Three of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - let me dust the snow off your coat/hat/shoulder 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Your father’s snarl sends the turkey slipping back into the sink. You spin to face him, holding up your cold hands. 

“Daddy, just doin’ up the turkey,” you blink. “It’s thawed now--” 

“I don’t care about the fuckin’ turkey,” he retorts. “Should be gettin’ yourself ready.” 

You frown and look down at yourself. You wear one of his old shirts, the Ford tee with the hole near the hem and a loose cardigan Shelby from down the way gave you, over loose sweats that were once also his. Nothing you have it really your own, it’s only his scraps, what he doesn’t need anymore. 

“Ready for what?” 

“You questioning me, girl?” He growls. 

You gulp and shake your head. You lower your hand, keeping them away from your clothes as you’re all too aware of the raw poultry all over them. You stare at him. 

“Yes, sir, I'll get ready,” you step forward hesitantly, uncertain as you watch him.  

He huffs through his nose and curls his lip, “presents on your bed. Figure it out.” 

You nod as you come close to him, wary of a lunge as you thank him under your breath. He only shoulders past you and goes to the counter. You’re confused.

Your father doesn’t get you gifts. He doesn’t get anyone gifts. You spent weeks thrifting what you could to give to your aunt and uncles when they got here, altering it all to make it presentable, but he only ever reads his sci-fi books and makes demands. 

You go to the bathroom to wash your hands. You look at yourself in the mirror. Anxiety tenses in your cheeks. Every day roils with the same uneasiness. Every day for more than two decades. You should want to get away but complacence is easier. He hates you but for whatever reason he won’t let you go. 

You go to your room. There’s a bag on your bed. You don’t know why you expected something wrapped or a bow. Still, your surprised by the contents of the paper bag. 

A pink dress with long bloused sleeves and a short skirt. You lift it out and stare in disbelief. You lay it on the bed and take out the shoes with it; little white booties with fur. At the bottom, there’s a box with shiny colours streaked across it; makeup? 

Your father’s footsteps have you facing the door and he appears in his stained flannel, slurping his instant coffee. “Well?” 

“Thank you, daddy, it’s really nice--” 

“Get a move on,” he snaps his fingers at you. 

“Oh, uh, yes, sir,” you shrink down and turn to gather up the things. 

“Make sure you wash all of ya,” he sneers. “You smell like a dead bird.” 

You swallow down your embarrassment. It feels like a trick. Why would he get you such nice things but still be so mean? Where did he get the money? His Christmas bonus always goes to whatever car he’s clanking around on in the garage. 

You go to your dresser and fish out a bra and some clean underwear. Everything you have are handmedown. They are all forgotten, like you. It feels so strange to have anything brand new. 

You take it all to the bathroom and start the shower. You stick to the golden rule; no more than three minutes to get washed up. Don’t waste the damn water, your father’s voice haunts you. 

You dry off and dress. The dress is nice but a bit snug. It’s too short, isn’t it? You tug at it until you can breathe. 

You once more face your reflection. You are lost. You do your best to tame your hair then put on the dollar store cream.  

You open the box of cosmetics. You read each label and search for any instructions. There’s nothing.  

You uncap the liner and examine the tip. You pull your eyelid taut and meticulous draw a thin line over the edge. You let it go. It looks okay. Not tacky or anything. You do the other and do your best to even them out. 

Next the mascara. You fear scraping your eyes but coat your lashes without incident. It looks better now. You blink as you take in the effect. The blush... you’re not very sure. You blend a bit into your cheeks but don’t think it makes much difference. 

Finally, you gloss your lips with the stick of pink. You like the colour but the sheen feels unnatural and sticky. Your father clears his throat as he prowls outside. You sniff and pack everything up. That’s as good as it gets. 

You step out as he grumbles in the kitchen door frame. You glance over and he huffs. “Put the damn shoes on. Whatcha draggin’ your ass for?” 

You flit back to your room and grab the boots. You think of grabbing socks or something but you don’t have anything to go with the dress. Your legs will just be cold. 

You come back out on the heels, wobbling slightly. Your father storms at you from the front door, moving quicker than you’ve seen. He shoves your coat at you. You pout as you try to unravel his intent. 

“Daddy?” 

“Go wait outside. He'll be here soon, won’t he?” 

“He? Daddy?” 

“You’re so fucking mouthy, go.” 

He jams his thumb at the door and you flinch. You take the coat and pull it on. It doesn’t go with the dress or boots. What’s going on? 

“Are you coming?” 

“Fuck off,” he pushes you toward the door and you stumble into it. 

You put your chin down as you plant your feet and pull away from the door. You put the coat on before you untwist the lock. You are lost. 

He slams the door behind you before you can shut it yourself. You shiver as you step onto the porch and search the wintery country fields. There isn’t much snow, enough to dust the ground, but the air is crisp. Your legs are scalded by the early freeze. 

You stare off in the distance. Your heart pumps faster as a thought startles you. Did your daddy just kick you out? Why? On Christmas? 

You see the square headlights first. The pale blue truck winds down the hidden dirt road and steers towards the old homestead. You squeeze yourself as another chill sweeps over you as you watch the approach. Hooked to the back of the truck is a long trailer, the contents covered. 

You recognise the silver trim of the truck. You squint at Cole through the windshield as he pulls up, the exhaust clouding the frigid air. The door shrieks as he pushes it open and you chatter as you bring your hands to your raw cheeks. 

“Hey, you look frozen,” he says. “Merry Christmas.” 

“M-merry Christmas, sir,” you call back. You still don’t understand. 

“I’ll just unhook the load for your dad, then we can head out,” he grins as he keeps his hand on his open truck door. “Got the heat going, you wanna get in before you freeze your knees off?” 

You wince and turn to peek at the windows. Huh? You shrug and come down the steps. You’re so cold, you don’t care. You just want to stop shivering. 

Cole closes the driver’s door and leads you around to the passenger’s side. He pauses to dust snow off your shoulder as flakes swirl down lazily. His touch somehow makes you colder. He opens it and holds out his gloved hand to help you up. He’s always polite but you don’t see him very much. Your daddy did a few repairs on his truck and he would help with the garden in the summer. You were always inside, locked up. 

You let go of him, your hand thrumming from his warmth. He gently shuts the door and continues towards the rear. The truck jostles as he unhooks the trailer. You peek in the mirror and see the thick ends of the wooden planks poking out from under the tarp. It’s a lot of wood. Expensive, probably. 

None of this makes sense. Cole comes up to the driver side and gets in with a ‘brrrr’. You blow into your hands and he reaches to turn the vent up even higher. He smiles at you as you avoid looking at him. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

You hunch down and rub your hands together, “for what?” 

He’s quiet. He peers through the windshield at the house then back at you. You shrink under his gaze. 

“Did your dad... what did he tell you?” 

You heart thumps. Will you get in trouble if you don’t go along with whatever this is? “He didn’t... he just told me to wait for you.” 

“Ah,” he reaches once more to wipe away melted snow from your sleeve. “Well, er...” He stiffens in his seat. “I thought he’d... say something.” 

You just nod. Whatever you say or do will get back to your daddy somehow. He’ll be mad if you ruin whatever this is. 

“It’s a lot of wood. Your dad says he’s going to add onto the garage,” Cole speaks as he shifts gears and steers away from the trailer, circling back towards his tire tracks. “Not many folks got that kind of money and I don’t really need anything done on the truck.” 

Your lashes flutter in furious thought. It feels like this should be obvious but your mind isn’t clicking. 

“Did I say you look really nice?” He clears his throat. “Cold, but nice. I shoulda bought some stockings too.” 

You look down at the rosy skirt and shake your head. A piece slips into place. Of course it wasn’t your daddy who bought it all. 

“Oh, you—thank you, Cole,” you squeak as you smooth the short hem. 

“Well, I figured you’d want to look pretty. I mean, you always do, but... it’s Christmas, right?” 

He sounds nervous, just as much as you. You wring your hands and look around the white landscape. Your stomach is a storm. 

“It was nice of you to bring daddy all that lumber, sir,” you say. 

“Please, call me Cole,” he insists. He’s quiet for a moment as he steers, then sucks his teeth. “Or you could call me something nicer. Like... honey?” 

“Honey?” You eke out. “Why-- uh... oh?” 

You furrow your nose and rub between your brows. That dark feeling crawls up from your stomach as the doubt in your head trickles down to meet it. It’s not making sense but... 

“You still look cold,” he reaches over to rest his hand on your knee, “you can get warm...” He tickles along your skirt then bends his arm up and stretches it out to grab your shoulder. “Come here.” 

You blanch but make yourself slide over. You tremble as you do. He curls his arm over your shoulders, his other hand on the bottom of the steering wheel. 

“See, isn’t this nice?” 

Your eyes prick as that rotting sensation in your chest overwhelms that voice in your head. You sniffle and touch your nose. You squirm as the cold seeps away to unbearable heat. Your denial melts under the flames of dread. 

“Sir-- Cole,” you twiddle your fingers. “Where are we going?” 

He chuckles and slows, turning to plant a kiss on your hair, “you’re going to come meet mom and dad. They are very excited to have you for Christmas.” He squeezes you even tighter, “not as excited as I am though.” 

Your chest hollows out as if you’ve been hit directly in the heart. You can’t breathe as it sets in. It’s absurd but there’s no other explanation. Did your daddy really trade you for a cartload of wood? 

Well, he always did love his cars more than you. You hope it’s a nice garage, that it’s worth it. Well, it would be worth more than his useless daughter. 

[coff33andb00ks]

Mountain Mama - LH

Lewis Hamilton x unnamed ofc summary: You can take the girl out of the country, but can you ever really take the country out of the girl? songs: Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver and Is This Love by Bob Marley & The Wailers a.n.: am currently soft for Lewis and had to write to get him out of my system spoiler alert it didn't work warnings: discussions of prejudice and racism, pure disgusting fluff, author unabashedly shows her love for country music, author also is fully in love with one sir lewis Hamilton now

She wasn't worried about her family liking Lewis. Her sister had already met him and was doing her part to talk him up as the greatest man that ever lived to the rest of the family. She knew there was a wary level of respect between her parents and Lewis after their unofficial meeting over FaceTime. He'd been a little shy but very sweet, telling them a little about himself, and later her mother had said well he seems like a nice young man.

High praise from mama, who'd called her last boyfriend dried up dog shit.

Her father hadn't said anything about him. He didn't follow formula one, only knew about it because of her photography, so he didn't know who Lewis was. But when he'd texted her to tell her he'd watched a bit of the race after she'd confirmed Lewis was coming home with her during summer break she knew he was at least trying.

So here she was, behind the wheel of the rental car, driving to her parents' home with Lewis in the passenger seat and Roscoe in the back. Music was on, the windows were down, and with each mile she traveled closer to home she felt both more relaxed and more anxious.

She needed them to like him. They didn't have to love him, call him the son they'd always wanted, or even add his name to the Christmas card list. They didn't need to learn everything about him. She just needed them to like him enough to want him around when she came home for a visit. She needed them to like him and understand how very much she loved him.

They would bristle a little bit. Especially Grandma. Because he was older. Almost 40 and never married? Hm… And all those tattoos… She could hear Grandma clicking her tongue in disapproval over the tapestry of artwork that covered most of his body. And her father's eyebrows would hit his receding hairline when Lewis inevitably dressed as though he'd just stepped out of Vogue to go down to the diner in town for lunch on Friday.

"Babe." Lewis spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music. She glanced over at him, saw his playful little smile as he lifted his phone.

"No," she laughed when the song playing ended and another began. Immediately recognizable because it was one of her lifelong favorites. The one her grandpa had sang on summer nights around the bonfire when he was a few slugs of moonshine deep.

Lewis held up his hands and swayed in time to the music. "Almost heaven, West Virginia… Blue Ridge mountains, Shenandoah river…"

And she had to sing along, because she always did. Because it was her favorite, yes, but also because he always sang it. The man who shook his head in disappointment over all the other so-called embarrassing songs on her Spotify never failed to belt out John Denver with his entire soul.

She slowed, turning onto the path that wound through the trees, anticipation growing as the trees grew further apart, spreading into the dusty lawn she'd learned to ride a bike on. A turn and she saw it. Home. The front porch where she'd sat on her grandma's lap sipping lemonade. The ever present barn cat sitting on the top step, black tail twitching. Her dad's truck was parked crookedly near the back of the house and she could just see the sheets rippling in the breeze on the clothesline in the back yard.

Stopped, song still playing, she stared at the place she'd grown up, trying to view it as a newcomer. The grass needed mowing, the barn needed a new coat of paint. The roof on the old smokehouse was sagging a little. The porch railing looked crooked. But for every imperfection she saw a beautiful memory. How many millions of dandelions had she picked when the grass got a little tall? Up in the hay loft of the barn her name was carved into the top plank. The smokehouse, which had always held the lingering aroma of curing meat, had been the best spot during hide and seek. And she'd been leaning against that porch railing when she'd had her first kiss.

Her throat tightened with emotion.

Home.

"C'mon, mountain mama," Lewis said softly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

She wanted to apologize for not growing up rich, for not having a stately home to show him. She knew she didn't have to. Lewis didn't care about that, and he hadn't grown up much better than she had. He only cared about seeing where she'd been raised and meeting the people who'd raised her. What had he said when she'd asked him to come home with her?

I already love that little town because it made you.

She climbed out while he got Roscoe out of the backseat, and was opening her mouth to tell him they could get their bags later when the screen door banged.

"Is that my baby finally come to see me?"

It wouldn't matter if it had been two weeks or two months or two years, she would get that greeting. Not even bothering to close the car door she broke into a run, jumping the top step and laughing through tears as she was wrapped in her grandma's arms.

"Oh I miss these hugs." Grandma kissed her cheek, gripping her shoulders and holding her at arm's length. "Look at you. That boy of yours is treating you right, huh?"

"He is, Grandma," she promised, looking back to see Lewis closing the car door.

"Oh." Grandma squinted her eyes a bit. "He is handsome."

She giggled. "Heart of gold, Grandma."

"What's his name again? Louis?"

"Lewis."

As if he knew they were talking about him he glanced to the porch, smiling. Roscoe was already making his way to the steps, looking warily at the cat.

"Go on, get," Grandma said, shooing the cat away.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Grandma's shoulders were a little more stooped, her hands a little more shaky. Why oh why did time have to go by so quickly? Pushing away the invasive thoughts of her beloved grandmother not being around forever, she slid her hand into Lewis's once he was on the porch. "Grandma, this is Lewis. Lewis, this is Grandma."

"It's so nice to finally meet you, ma'am." He extended his hand and as soon as he smiled she knew her grandma was smitten.

"Oh honey aren't you sweet." She shook his hand. "Well, c'mon in – is that dog house trained?"

"Better than some humans," he promised with a grin.

They'd barely gotten into the house when her father came to greet them. He wasn't nearly as smitten as grandma, and she recognized the old macho act he'd played on all her old boyfriends. Then her mother came hurrying out of the kitchen, bringing with her the aroma of lemon meringue and peach cobbler.

There was overlapping chatter. Greetings and questions and the beginnings of an interrogation. Roscoe was cooed over by Grandma, given a begrudging welcome by her dad.

"I straightened up your old room," mama said when Lewis excused himself to go get their bags. "And got new sheets for your sister's old room."

"Is she staying too?" she asked in confusion, squatting to give Roscoe ear scratches.

"Of course not – you know her and Dale are almost finished the new addition on the back of their place? The twins will have a nice big playroom."

"Are the twins staying?" Why would mama need to do anything to her sister's room?

"No… It's for your boyfriend."

She froze. Oh god. Of course her mother would think… "Mama…"

"It's not fancy or anything but I don't think he'll mind do you? It's got plenty of room for him and Roscoe."

At that, Roscoe nudged her hand, silently begging for more scratches. "Mama, I thought he'd sleep in my room."

"Oh. Well you two can switch." Her mother shrugged.

"Jesus, Kathy, she wants to sleep with the boy," her father said loudly.

Surprise, Mama, I'm not a virgin!

"I don't think your dad likes me."

She looked up from unpacking her suitcase. Usually she didn't, usually she just rummaged to get what she needed, but she'd wanted a break before the rest of the family arrived for the cookout. The time change was affecting her a little and she wanted to get a nap in.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, setting her toiletry bag on the dresser.

"He calls me boy." Lewis was standing at the window, hands in his pockets, looking out at the back yard. Where her father and brother in-law were firing up the grill.

"He doesn't mean… He calls anyone younger than him boy," she promised.

"I get it. Really, babe," he said, looking over at her. "It just rubs me wrong."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" she asked, crossing the room.

"Will it change anything?"

"He's not like that, Lewis. He's southern, yes, he's a good ol' country boy, pickup truck, cold beer, guns and 'Murica, Toby Keith and Hank Jr, but he's not racist. If he's told that the way he says something is offensive, he stops saying it." She slipped her arms around him from behind, pressing her face to his back.

"It'll just make him like me even less," he sighed.

"No, babe… If he didn't like you, you wouldn't be in my bedroom."

He chuckled, covering her hands with his and interlocking their fingers. "Not only am I boy, I'm the asshole that deflowered his little girl."

She snorted at that. "Please, like I was an untouched virgin."

"How you were able to have sex way out here is a mystery to me."

"There are so many spots where you can go to be unseen," she told him.

Lewis hummed, unwrapping her arms and turning to face her. "Were you shagging farmer boys in the woods, babe?"

Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to his lips. "Once, yes. Most of the time it was in the cutoff down the old service road. Or out at the powerline."

"You weren't seduced in a bed?" He shook his head in disappointment. "I'm so sorry."

"And where was your first time, hm?"

He rolled his eyes. "Coat closet."

"That's even worse than a pickup truck."

"Didn't count, I wasn't in love."

"Oh see you didn't tell me that." Pulling on his hands, she walked backwards towards the bed. "That changes everything."

"Hotel room? Back seat of a car?" he guessed, letting her pull him along.

"A penthouse, actually," she murmured as she fell onto the bed.

He hesitated briefly then joined her, holding himself above her. "Penthouse? In Bumfuck Virginia?"

"You said it only counted if I was in love, right?"

"Mhmm."

"Penthouse. Monte-Carlo. Afterwards he took a bubble bath with me and we danced to Bob Marley." She watched his eyes soften and leaned up to meet his lips in a kiss. "He was the first one that made me feel loved."

"Does he still make you feel it?" he whispered between kisses.

"Every day."

"If he ever doesn't make you feel that way, will you tell him?"

"Yes." She kissed him again.

"Promise?" he whispered.

"Promise."

The food was delicious, and she was so happy her parents had made vegan alternatives for Lewis she could have cried. He seemed happy too, and during the meal she watched him talk with her dad and Dale, heart swelling each time he turned to praise her mama's cooking. Roscoe was parked between them, his gentle snoring just barely noticeable above the music playing.

It was a balmy evening, lightning bugs flashing as the sun sank low, and she watched Lewis's head drop back with a groan after he finished a third helping of Grandma's peach cobbler. "I think I hurt myself eating, ma'am."

Grandma glowed, patting his hand. "It's how I won her Papa," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Lewis chuckled, rubbing his abdomen with his free hand. "If I was twenty years older…"

She beamed as Grandma giggled, so obviously charmed she looked twenty years younger in the golden glow of the sinking sun. "Oh bless your heart, honey, I don't think you could handle me."

"I can barely handle her," Lewis told her in a stage whisper.

And she knew her family liked him. Their laughter was natural, the conversation flowed. Her twin nephews kept coming over to him, asking him questions about his tattoos, his jewelry, and she fell in love all over again at how patient and gentle he was with them.

When he insisted on helping with cleanup she saw the warmth of approval in her dad's eyes. The twins said they would help, too, and she could only look on as they followed him back into the house, Roscoe taking up the rear.

"He's a good one," Grandma said.

"He's alright." This from her dad, and it was the best she knew she could get for now.

"I like him a lot, honey. You ain't looked this happy in a long time." Mama squeezed her shoulder on her way past, and right behind her was her sister, flashing a grin as she helped gather the platters.

"You wanna take a walk?" her father asked.

It was a callback to her childhood. Dad always said it was to work off what he'd just had to eat, but she had figured out in her early teenage years it was his way of checking in on her. Their walks after dinner had been when they'd bonded, and as she fell into step next to him and they strolled beyond the barn she realized how much she missed these walks.

"I didn't want to like him."

She pressed her lips together to keep from asking why. Always best to just stay silent and let him get all his thoughts out in his own way.

"He's a little older than you. But I think that's what you need. Someone to keep your head from floating with the clouds." He sighed, snapping a leaf off the old oak tree as they walked under the branches. "And… You know how people are around here, honey."

She nodded. "But not you, dad," she whispered.

"I don't give a shit, you know that. But even Dale said something, and… I know you always worry about what people think."

"I used to," she said.

"You always hid away from the world. And I let you. Thought I was protecting you from how bad it can be sometimes." He twirled the leaf between his fingers, sending it swirling. "You're out in it, now. Can't protect you anymore."

"I don't need protecting, daddy," she promised.

"You telling me your knight back there doesn't protect you?" he asked, stopping at the fence to the back pasture. "That bo – sorry. That man loves you, honey."

"I know. And I love him."

"People around here will talk." He propped his arm on the fencepost and looked out. "Ain't got nothing better to do."

"I don't care what they say." And she didn't. She used to, yes, used to care too much, pretending to be someone else so she'd be accepted. The only people whose opinions mattered were inside the house and standing beside her.

"Good. Because I want him to come around more often."

"You like him?" she asked. She knew he did, but she needed to hear him say it.

"Yeah, he's alright," he chuckled. Throwing his arm around her shoulders when she groaned, he pulled her in close.

"Dad…"

"Rest easy, honey. I like him. Long as he treats you right I'll never say a word against him."

They stayed at the fence and she let herself be her dad's little girl for a few more minutes, watching the sunlight fade. Walking back to the house she could hear music still playing, but now instead of her dad and Dale's country it was the smooth beats of reggae and she was smiling as she entered the kitchen to see Lewis dancing with the twins to Is This Love.

He spun to face her, face lighting, and ducked to speak to her nephews then held a hand out to her, drawing her to him. His lips met her forehead. "I wanna love ya, I wanna love and treat, love and treat you right…" he crooned softly as they danced in her mama's kitchen.

"You better," she whispered. "Because I think they like you more than me."

His laugh was warmer than any sunlight, and she didn't mind at all when he kissed her then broke away to ask her grandma to dance.

She missed all of this, the love and the comfort and all the memories.

But she couldn't wait for the love and memories to come.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Holiday Compromise

Summary: It was your nature to be a giver. You could give the shirt off your back if your girlfriend asked you for it. But when she is just as stubborn as you are, you have to be creative this holiday season to give the small family of three a Christmas they deserve.

Warning: slander of Vision and Sharon (no hate to them), implied sex, drinking, divorce, mention of fighting and past childhood trauma, reader is lowkeye rich, no Avenger/power AU

Note: I can't believe this is my first Wanda x reader fic, wild.

Word Count: 5.2k

You heard Wanda say goodbye to Billy and Tommy as their father picked them up to celebrate Thanksgiving with him and his new girlfriend. It was the second Thanksgiving for the boys, a feeling you knew all too well as your parents divorced at a young age. You were in the kitchen, washing off the dirty dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. "You didn't have to do that," Wanda said, leaning against the wall with their arms crossed. She was wearing a maroon dress with long sleeves that came to the middle of her thighs. She was beautiful.

"Of course I do," you said. "You cooked, I cleaned, it's only fair." She smiled at you before grabbing two wine glasses and filling them with a red wine you brought. She jumped onto the counter, slowly sipping her wine as she watched you. Once you were done and the dishwasher was running, you grabbed your glass and moved between Wanda's legs. You took a sip. "Were the boys excited to go to their father's?" You asked. Wanda sighed.

"I'm not sure," she said. "I think so." You put her glass down and placed your hands on her thighs. This was the first holiday the twins had to experience with divorced parents.

"The first holiday is hard." You smiled. "But it gets easier, I promise." You kissed her forehead. You met Wanda 10 months ago while walking out of a coffee shop on your way to a meeting for your company. As you left the shop, someone ran into you, spilling your coffee all over you. Your outfit was ruined, and on any other day, you would be upset, but you were distracted by the beauty of the woman in front of you. She was frantically trying to clean up the mess. You told her not to worry about it and asked her for dinner. "So," you took another sip of your wine. "What do you want to do for the rest of the night, my love?" You asked, kissing her cheek and down her neck. You made sure not to leave marks on her skin. Her breathing hitched.

"I see you have some ideas." You smiled against her skin.

"Can you blame me?" You asked, looking at her. "The food was delicious, but I was hungry for something else the entire time." You loved making her blush. Wanda was incredibly self-conscious of her body since giving birth to the twins. It didn't help that Vision rarely gave her attention after she gave birth. But my god, you were in love with her body. You found it difficult to keep your hands to yourself in front of her kids. Wanda smiled, biting her lip.

"You make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world," you kissed her softly, taking her glass out of her hand. You lifted her. She gasped at the sudden movement and put her hands around your neck.

"It's because you are. Let me show you."

*

To your surprise, you woke up to an empty bed. You were always the first one up because you had clients in different time zones. But you made sure to take the day after Thanksgiving off so you could cuddle with your girlfriend. Her side of the bed was cold. You sat up, stretched your arms over your head, and glanced at the clock. It was 0730. You sighed and got out of bed. You put on shorts and a sweatshirt to look for Wanda.

She wasn't hard to find as you stepped into the kitchen, hunched over a notebook, a calculator, and her checkbook. You walked up behind her on quiet feet, wrapping your arms around her. She was tensed up but soon relaxed in your arms. "I wanted more cuddles." You pouted. Your girlfriend chuckled, turning around to face you.

"I'm sorry, baby," you loved when she spoke in her native tongue. It was incredibly sexy.

"Why are you up so early? You don't have to be at work till 5. She was working the evening shift at a 24-hour diner. You saw the stress and worry in her features. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing I can't handle." She said. Yeah, that wasn't going to fly. Early in your relationship, she hid everything from you because Vision was never there for her. You weren't his biggest fan.

"Hey, don't keep things to yourself. Remember, we are a team." She sighed.

"I'm worried about money," she confessed. "With the holidays coming up, I just hope I can give the boys a good holiday with everything they've been through." You hummed, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry this isn't your problem."

"Hey," you spun her around from the table. "I love those boys like they are my own. We will figure it out." She shook her head, biting her lip.

"I'm their mother," she firmly said. "I do not need your help." You nodded.

"Okay," you smiled, rubbing your hands up and down her arms. "But can we cuddle some more, please?" You pouted. Your girlfriend rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Yes, we can, but," she kissed you softly. "Please forget about this, okay? I don't need you spoiling us." You kissed her forehead, and she led you back to her room, promising you would forget it.

  *   

So you were struggling to keep your promise. Every time your mind had a spare moment, you thought about Wanda hunched over her checkbook, trying to make ends meet. You knew Vision was paying the bare minimum of child support when he could afford more. But you felt trapped. It was in your nature to help those you loved and cared for. Your second-grade teacher, who allowed you to spend your lunch in her classroom because you were trying to work through your parent's divorce, needed money for hip surgery - you donated the rest of the amount to her fund. Your high school coach was in a car accident - you bought him a new one. Your secretary was diagnosed with breast cancer - you covered the medical expenses and other bills that came up. You were fortunate to be in the position you were in. You had enough money and wanted to give it all to Wanda and the twins.

However, it was early on in your relationship that Wanda wasn't with you for the money. She fought you on paying for her share of the bill, refused any gift, and never asked to help with bills. On the one hand, it made you love the mother of two more because you had your fair share of partners who took advantage of your status. Conversely, you wanted to spoil the small family if only she would let you.

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Natasha asked as she opened the door to your office. The Russian was your second in command, your best friend, the sister who always wanted. Her family lived next to your father, and when it was his weekend, you would spend more time at Natasha's house than at his. Melina helped you get emancipated at 15 since you were done being a pawn in your parent's game. It was around that time you and Natasha tried dating; you were better off as friends - family. She set a stack of papers on your desk. Ugh, you hated being the boss. "Speak. I got other things to do on my list."

"Jeez, thanks," you stood up. "You got time for a drink."

"I guess I could make time in my busy schedule." Typical. You chuckled and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "Damn, we are drinking the good stuff," she took off her jacket and draped it on the back of the chair before sitting down. "Is this about Wanda? I like her. She is so much better than Sharon." You rolled your eyes, pouring the alcohol into the two glasses and giving one of them to her. No one liked Sharon. "Cheers." You hit your glass against hers and sat down.

"Wanda is having financial troubles," you swirled the amber liquid in the glass before taking a sip. "She worries about the holidays but won't let me. She's stubborn." You loved her, but she would work herself to death to provide for her boys.

"You are stubborn, too; it makes sense why you fit so well together," you flipped her off. "So she won't let you spoil her or the boys with things."

"Yes! I have all this money. What's the point if I can't spoil my girlfriend," Natasha rolled her eyes, but she was quiet, biting the inside of her cheek. You knew that she was thinking.

"So don't spoil them with things. Give them an experience. Bring them to the cabin up north," she suggested. "All you have to do is provide the food and sex."

"That is," you paused. It was a good idea. The cabin was built on some property you bought in Upstate New York. The three-bedroom, 2.5-bath sat on 16 acres of land with a private pond perfect for ice skating. You allowed close friends to use it year-round. You could take them ice skating and sledding; if you were lucky, the Northern Lights would appear. "Not a bad idea."

"That's why you keep me around," she finished her drink. "Just bring it up to her and let me know she says. Because if you aren't going to use it," Natasha stood up. "I will use it." You finished your drink and placed the two dirty glasses on the shelf behind you to be cleaned later. You chuckled.

"Are you going to take Bucky?" You questioned. She smirked.

"Him and possibly Steve, make things interesting," you cringed, grabbing the pile of paper she brought in.

"I'd have to burn down the cabin if you three spent a weekend there," you deadpanned. The redhead flipped you off.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman and always clean up after myself."

"Get out of here, you pervert, before I have to file an HR report," she waved and opened the door. "Nat," she stopped at the sound of her name. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," she smiled. "You'd do the same thing for me."

*

You were a little nervous as you sat on the edge of your bed and waited for Wanda. The twins were with Vision, so after her shift, she came over. She was in the bathroom, showering and getting ready for bed. You wanted to ask her sooner rather than later, but your stomach was in knots. What if she hated the idea? What if she thought you were being pushy and broke up with you? That would destroy you. "Baby," you turned to face your girlfriend's voice. She was drying her hair and wearing a shirt that was too big for her and came down to her thighs. "Are you okay?"

Sometimes, when you looked at Wanda, your brain short-circuited. She was so beautiful. Vision was an idiot, but hey, his loss was your gain. Your girlfriend smirked, threw the towel back in the bathroom, and walked over to you. She stood in front of you before straddling your waist. Immediately, your hands went to her thighs, massaging them. "Where have you been all night?" She asked, tracing the lines on your forehead. "I feel like you've been a million miles away." You sighed, taking her hand and kissing it.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, my brain is all over the place."

"Can I help?" She whispered, kissing your cheek. "You work so hard." Her lips trailed down your neck and nibbled on a sensitive spot below your ear. "You help so many people," Wanda began playing with the bottom of your shirt, hands grazing your stomach and flexing your muscles. "Let me take care of you," her lips ghosted over yours. "Please." You groaned; the hold you had on your thighs tightened. She was going to be the death of you. There was a voice in the back of your mind screaming to give in, to have this talk later. But it couldn't wait. Using your strength, you flipped her over. She landed on her back and would have bounced off if you weren't holding onto her. Your face was in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Vanilla. Lavender. Fresh linen.

"As much as I want to," you said. "We need to talk about something." She touched your cheek and forced you to look at her. Her green eyes were filled with worry. "It's nothing bad. It's about the holiday season." She huffed, dropped her hand, and sat up. You were forced on your knees.

"And I thought I told you to forget about it."

"I know, I know," you sat up on your knees to be between her legs. "But you know how I am, baby," she rolled her eyes, and you took her hands in yours. "Just I came up with a compromise if you'll listen." She sighed but nodded. "I know you said you don't need my help, and I don't want to help," you added quickly. "However, I want to treat you and the twins. I own a cabin in Upstate New York, and we could go there for a few days after Christmas. It will cost me nothing besides food and the gas to drive up there," Wanda was giving you her classic 'mom look' when the twins said something she didn't like. "It has a hot tub," you said, trailing your fingers up and down her thigh. You liked the way goosebumps formed.

"No presents."

"3 presents," you countered. "2 for the boys and 1 for you." She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"You can't get us anything for Hanukkah then." You groaned. Dammit, you wanted to get them something. But you had to compromise.

"Deal," you smiled. "So," your hands went to her waist. She didn't slap them away, so you figured it was good. "Are we going?" She was fighting to keep the smile from forming on her face; she was forced to bite her lip.

"Yes, we can go. I'll discuss it with Vision." She said. SHE SAID YES!

"Wooo," you cheered, picking her up, moving her to the middle of the bed, and attacking her face with kisses. Her laughter was infectious. She pushed her away, and you turned on your side, head resting on your hand. Wanda's cheeks were pink, and she was slightly out of breath. "You are going to love it there," you told her. "It's beautiful and quiet. The boys can have their room if they want. That reminds me, the place could use a good cleaning. I'll call the service tomorrow. What do we want to do for dinner? Oh! I'll get the place decorated and-"

"Baby," Wanda cut you off with a playful smile. "We have a few weeks. No need to rush everything."

"I know," you brought her into your arms. "I'm just very excited." She giggled.

"Yeah, so am I."

*

"Boys, are you sure you have everything?" Their mother asked for the third time since picking them up at Vision's. It was Christmas. The four of you spent a quiet morning of breakfast and gift unwrapping; the gifts you got were at the cabin. Then you brought the boys to Vision's so Wanda could do some last-minute packing. The look on the man's face was hilarious when he opened the door, not expecting to see you. Thankfully, the twins excitedly ran off toward the Christmas tree, preventing awkward or hateful interactions. You drove home to spend a few hours alone with Wanda before returning to their father's.

"Yes, Mom," they said in unison, but they were already engrossed in what movie they would watch on the TV. Their jaws dropped when they saw them on the back of the driver and passenger seats. Wanda was in the trunk, reorganizing the back to fit the stuff they wanted to bring they got from their father. You rounded the back and saw Vision from the front door, a smirk on his face as he watched his ex-wife struggle. You were quick to kiss her, keeping your eyes on the man. He turned around and went back inside.

"If they forgot something, I have extra of everything," you rearranged the back and closed the trunk. "No stress, right?"

"Right, no stress." You smiled and walked to the driver's seat.

"Boys, are you ready?" You asked and fastened your seat belt.

"Yes!" They cheered. You were surprised they were excited to go. They spent a few days reading up on the wildlife they might encounter. You smiled, watching the boys put on their headphones and hit play. Wanda got in, getting settled with a blanket and a few necessary road trip snacks. You started the car and began the drive with your hand on Wanda's thigh.

* 

The drive to the cabin was your favorite, especially in the winter. The mountain views were blanketed in the snow. Trees that lost their leaves but told a different story. It was so quiet, too, a stark contrast to the city. There were about 30 minutes left of the drive; you were taking it slow as the roads weren't the best. Billy and Tommy were fast asleep, and Wanda played with the rings in your hand. You told her she didn't need to stay up, but she told you she was okay. "Why did you buy property out here?" She asked, keeping her voice low. "I feel like you could have brought property anywhere.' You chuckled; she wasn't wrong, and you have thought about it - a house in Florida on the beach, a French villa in the countryside, anywhere. You sighed.

"When I first realized I could afford anything, I wanted a cabin like this," you told her. "My mother had one when she was younger, and before the divorce, we would go, but a fire destroyed it. In my delusion, I thought if I bought one, we could be a family again," you shrugged. "Obliviously, it didn't work." You hated your parents, but a part of you was desperate for their love and acceptance.

"When was the last time you spoke with them?" She asked.

"About three years ago," you answered. "Mom needed some money, so I gave it to her," your girlfriend shook her head. "What is it?"

"Your heart is too big for this world," she kissed the back of your hand. Natasha and her family would say the same thing. However, they would say that's how you would get hurt.

"Are we there yet?" Billy groaned from the back. You chuckled.

"Almost, buddy, about 15 minutes." You said with a smile.

"I'm hungry," this time it was Tommy. Wanda rolled her eyes. That boy was always hungry.

"I'll cook us something when we get there, but first, we have to bring our stuff inside."

"And open presents," you added on quickly. The twins woke up more at the mention of presents.

"Presents are waiting for us!" Billy excitedly said. You nodded.

"Of course. It's still Christmas!"

"There better be only three presents under that tree," Wanda gave you a stern look.

"I only bought three presents," you said. She looked like she did not believe you. "I promise! That was our deal!" You stood by it, but the people you worked for didn't make that promise. "Babe, it's fine."

*   

You parked the car, and before you could speak with the family, they were out of the car to look at the cabin. Smiling, you got out yourself. It did look better in real life than in the pictures. You hired some people to come out and decorate the cabin. It was perfect with the freshly powered snow; lights hung on the roof, and the trees outside. There were some Christmas-themed blowups out front. Wanda looked at you. "You did all of this for us?" She questioned. You shrugged.

"It was nothing," you smiled, scratching your head.

"Boys, grab your stuff," Wanda instructed her kids. The twins grabbed their backpacks and suitcases and ran for the door, kicking up the snow as they went. You grabbed your bag, and Wanda's before joining them. There was other stuff in the car, but that could wait. The twins were bouncing on their heels as you typed in the code and opened the door. "Oh my god," Wanda whispered. It was like a Hallmark movie threw up in the cabin. There were more lights and wreaths, and a Christmas tree was at the center of it all. You should have given them a limit.

"Presents!" Tommy yelled, running over to the tree. So, there were more than three underneath the tree. Boxes were stacked high around it.

"Is this all for us?" Billy asked, looking back at you. You ruffled his hair.

"A majority of it is. I think there are a few for your mom and me," you said as you looked back at their mother, whose arms were crossed. Oh, she was pissed. "Boys, go pick out your room. Down the hall." Tommy stood up, looking between you and his mom.

"Are you in trouble?" He whispered.

"Maybe," you admitted. "Now go." They were quick to grab their things and run off. "It wasn't me," you said when they were out of earshot.

"I said three presents."

"I did buy 3," you paused. "Well, technically 4, but I bought it for myself." You quickly closed the distance between you and her. Her arms were still crossed, but she allowed you to wrap your arms around her. "All of these gifts are from my coworkers; you know they love the boys just as much as I do." There were rare times when you needed to pick up the boys from school when Vision or Wanda's schedules would line up differently. Since you were the boss, it was easier for you to leave. You brought them back to your office until Vision or Wanda could pick them up. Everyone loved them. You would find them with Yelena or Natasha in their office, Bucky in the cafeteria, or Shuri in the lab. When they asked what the family wanted for Christmas, you couldn't tell them nothing. It was in your nature to spoil people, so if you couldn't do it, you might as well have your coworkers do the dirty work. "Baby," you took her cheeks in your hands. "You and the boys deserve a wonderful stress-free Christmas with the year you three had. If I can provide the space and have others spoil you," you glanced at the tree. "They did go over the top. I'll talk to them." She giggled and placed her hands on top of yours. "I'll do it. You deserve the world; let me give it to you the next few days," she sighed, resting her head on your shoulder. You felt her tears on your shirt.

"Okay," her voice was so soft. "Thank you." You kissed the top of her head.

"You're welcome. Now," you whipped away her tears. "We have some very excited kids that want to open presents." You saw the boys peek their heads around the corner. Wanda laughed.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get going."

 *     

Growing up, you dreamed of having a family vacation like this one. As soon as Tommy and Billy were up with bellies filled with breakfast, the fun would begin - ice skating on the pond, sledding on the hill, and winter hikes in the surrounding woods. But also snowball fights, lots of them. You saw the northern lights at night and a little wildlife in the backyard, and you flew the drones you got the boys for Christmas. When they were asleep, you would draw a bath for Wanda, sit by the fireplace in the master, or take a dip in the hot tub. It was perfect; you'd never seen your girlfriend this relaxed. She was smiling, laughing, and more carefree. Even the boys noticed the change in their mother.

At last, all vacations must end; it was your last night at the cabin. Wanda cooked a fantastic dinner; you refused her help with every meal, so you knew she was itching to get back in the kitchen. Then it was smores around the fire and one final movie night. You were putting Billy to bed; the poor kid was falling asleep halfway through the movie. The sound of your name from the sleepy boy made you stop and turn around. "What's up, bud?" You asked, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. If his eyes weren't opened, you would have thought he fell back to sleep.

"Are you going to marry my mom?" You fought your jaw dropping and thanked all your years of being CEO to keep a straight face.

"I'd like to," you said honestly. You never liked lying, especially to kids. You were often on the receiving end of the lies from your parents. "Is that okay with you and your brother?" He nodded quickly, and a weight you didn't realize was on your shoulders was lifted.

"I like you, and you make Mom smile," he frowned slightly. "My dad doesn't like you." You chuckled, shaking your head.

"I'm aware, but that's not gonna stop me from being with your mom, okay?" He nodded and sat up, staring down at his hands.

"They fought a lot," he admitted. "They tried not to do it in front of us, but we still heard it." Oh, you knew that feeling well. They were lucky to have each other. "I don't like fighting. Dad and his new girlfriend fight sometimes, too," you weren't aware of that. You wondered if Wanda knew.

"Do you like her?" The boy shrugged.

"She's okay, not as nice as you," that made you smile. "She just kind of ignored us when we are there." You hated some of the partners your parents ended up with.

"Look at me," he slowly did. "I want you to know that you and your brother can always come to me. You are part of my family." Billy smiled.

"Thank you," he hugged you.

"Always," you whispered, kissing his forehead. "Get some sleep." He played back down.

"Goodnight."

"Night, buddy," you turned off the overhead lights and closed the door. Wanda was in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea. "Is Tommy asleep?" You asked, wrapping your arms around her waist. She nodded.

"He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow," you chuckled, kissing her shoulder. "You were in there awhile with Billy; everything okay?"

"Yup," you popped the 'p' at the end of the word. She spun around, back against the counter, and tilted her head at you. She was a mind reader; you swore by it. "We were just talking about you and me. The boys like me." She rolled her eyes.

"I could have told you that." You laughed.

"So it's our last night here; what do you want to do?" She bite her lip, moving her head from side to side.

"You know," she trailed her hand up and down your chest. "I haven't gotten my Christmas present yet."

"And I thought you didn't want me to get you anything," she shrugged, smiling.

"You got a girl curious," you smiled, took her free hand, and led her into the master.

"Sit and close your eyes," she did as she was told and sipped on her tea. You weren't sure why you were so nervous to give it to her. Every time you went to bring it out of its hiding place, your anxiety got the better of you. You returned to the bed with a small jewelry box and bag. You set them next to her. "You can open your eyes." She did and handed you the mug. "Open the bag first," you told her, placing the mug on the side table. Wanda slowly opened the bag, pulling out the tissue paper.

"Lingerie," she laughed, taking the maroon pieces out. You smirked. "I can't believe it." You shrugged, kneeling in front of her.

"I told you I bought something for me," you chuckled against her neck. "I want to buy some lingerie for my girlfriend. Sue me," she shook her head and pushed you away slightly. You pouted as she returned the clothes to the bag and picked up the jewelry box. "If you hate it, I can return it and get you something else," you added. She opened the box.

Her green eyes shun with unshed tears. It was a necklace with four gems - each was a birthstone representing her parents, brother, and boys. "I know we don't talk about your parents or Pietro a lot, but I wanted to get you something so they'll always be with you," you explained. "If I overstepped, I can-" she surged forward. You caught her body trembling slightly as she cried.

"It's perfect," she said. "So perfect." She sat back on the bed. "Can you put it on?" You took the necklace from her and placed it around her neck. She was quick to go to the bathroom to look at it. While she was gone, you sat on the bed. When she was done, she came out and sat on your lap. You got major deja vu when you told her about your Christmas plans. "I don't deserve you," she whispered, kissing your cheek. "Thank you for the gift, this trip, and everything you've done for me and the twins. What Billy asked you rang in your head - 'Are you going to marry my mom?' You squeezed her thighs, and she looked at you.

"I'm going to marry you one day, Wanda Maximoff," she let out a surprised squeak from the back of her throat. "One day, you'll never have to do anything, not worry about money or bills. You could sit at home all day for all I care."

"I'd get bored," she said. "I could never be a housewife." There was something about the way she said housewife that put a chill down your spine.

"You won't have to be one," you smiled, tickling her sides and spine. She shivered. "You could go back to school and become a teacher like you wanted to, be a writer or painter, or go to culinary school. Anything you want as long as you are mine," Wanda chuckled, moving her fingers through your hair and tilting your head back.

"You got this all figured out, huh?" She teased. "Do you think about marrying me a lot?" You weren't sure how to tell her you've thought about it since she ran into you at the coffee shop. Your silence must have been telling because she threw her head back in a laugh. "I haven't even said yes yet." Your jaw dropped slightly.

"You would say yes," you said slowly. She shrugged, got off your lap, and grabbed the bag.

"You'll have to ask."

"I'll buy the ring," she stopped on her way to the bathroom, threw a wink over her shoulder, and closed the door behind her. Groaning, you fell onto your back. That woman was going to be the death of you in the best possible way.

[norizz-nation]

Hi, it’s me again

Sooo i liked the part 2…to max x Horners daughter ..

So here’s an idea to spark up your imagination

So you didn’t talk w your father after he caught you, but you were still invited for Christmas.

There it’s kinda awkward, but you have a lot of fun, Max gets heart to heart with your father promising him that you’ll be always loved,( n asking him if he can marry you) and when everyone was kinda done giving gifts, max n u slipped out to cuddle on the couch. Sleeping there peacefully as Max is clinging onto you. As you’re both passed out on the big couch, both parents stand still looking at y’all, mama admires, papa stares in realisation that you actually love each other.

And then he tears up.

Fuck , this is too sweet for me, maybe cause I’m half in of my all nighter studying and still haven’t done anything, I had like a red bull n 2shots of coffee, I’m shaking.

Sending 💗

Thank you so much, love! 🥹 Also its a little bit different but i hope you like it ❤️

Click here to read part 3 sweethearts!

All his 💛 (Part 4)

Summary: things had to change and be better since it’s the most wonderful time of the year

"I don't think he will understand" you said quitely as you looked at the reflection of your dress in the bathroom mirror in front of you. Max pulled your dress zip up in the back and looked at your reflection. "Of course he will, baby" he said as he placed a soft kiss on the side of your neck. You just let out a deep sigh and shook your head. “He won’t…” you said as you turned around to face him. You looked up at him trying to collect all your words. Max then caressed your cheek and brushed your jaw with his thumb. “It has been a month since he hasn’t talked with me. Not even a single text from him. Seeing him tonight is gonna kill me. I can’t take this any-” you got cut off by max as his lips met yours.

His touch always comforted you. No matter how hard things were, he would always make things better for you. Even in an apocalypse if you could just hold his hand, it would soothe your heart. He’s everything you ever wanted. Ever needed.

“Shh baby, please don’t stress about it. I’m gonna fix it. Everything will be fine. I love you” he said after pulling away from the kiss. You just nodded your head saying nothing. But somehow his words gave you hope. Max then pulled you in for a hug as he brushed your hair softly. “I love you too, max” you said as you let out a deep breath.

The whole time you’re in the car, you stayed silent. You just looked at the window and your mind wandered in your thoughts. Sometimes it makes you wonder what made max love you so much. What did he see in you? Maybe you’ll never know.

But, what you also don’t know is that he wants to marry you. Start a family with you. Have kids. Get a pet dog and a cat. Be a good husband for you. Be a great dad. You didn’t know all that.

“My love, it’s gonna be alright” max said as he rested his hand on your thigh and you looked at him, smiling softly. “Yeah… hope so” you said hoping for the best to happen.

“Fuck, it’s killing me” you said as you stood in front of the main door. Max wrapped his arms around your waist and squeezed it lightly and kissed your head. “Just relax, baby” he said as he rang the bell. Your mother, Geri opened the door and smiled big at you two. “Oh finally you two are here! Merry Christmas!” she said sounding relieved as she leaned in to hug you. “Merry Christmas mum. I missed you so much!” you said as you hugged her tightly, almost breaking into tears. “I missed you more darling” she said as she kissed your cheek.

“Max, don’t just stand there. Come here!” she said as he called him for a hug. “Merry Christmas, geri” he said, smiling at her. “Merry Christmas, max. How are you?” your mother, geri asked. “Great, doing good” he said and you looked at her. “Mum?” you called out. Geri then turned around and looked at you. “What is it darling?” she asked. “How’s dad doing? Is he alright?” you asked her as tears started forming in your eyes. You sniffled a little as you looked at her. “Oh honey, he’s okay. He just needed a little time, I guess” she said as she hugged you again.

The whole evening went well. House filled with your uncles, aunts, cousins and so many closed ones. It felt so nice to be around them.

Most of your relatives left and your mum told you to help her in the kitchen. But, you couldn’t focus on your work since your eyes were glued to max’s way. Well, max and your dad’s way. They were talking about something but all you could hear was whispers that are not understandable. “So you really like that boy, huh?” your mum, geri asked as you flinched and looked at her. “What?” you asked confusingly. Your mum smiled softly and looked at max. “That boy. Max. You really like him?” she asked, chuckling a little. You couldn’t find your words as you stayed silent for a while. “I mean, he’s always been there for me. He’s so kind and funny” you said as geri chuckled again. “And he’s someone I always wanted” you finished and looked at your mum. “I really like him, mum” you said softly. Your mum, geri then smiled and started to tear up a little as she pulled you in for a hug.

“Y/n, really loves you two” max said as he looked at you and your mum from the couch. Your father, Christian looked at max confusingly then looked at you and your mum’s direction and his gaze became soft. “Yeah… she does” he said as he sounded upset. “Christian, I know you love your daughter a lot. But, the way you’re reacting is not acceptable. We’re not teenagers. We know what’s right and what’s wrong. I love her so much. She’s the most perfect person I’ve ever met. I’m gonna keep her happy forever. Please just talk to her. She misses you a lot” he said as Christian’s eyes softened.

Your father, Christian didn’t realize that this would hurt you so much. It broke his heart. He can’t do this to his little girl.

“And, I really want to marry her” max said as your father looked at him with shock in his face. “Max, what?” he asked, still not being able to process to what he just said. Max nodded and looked down on the ground as he continued, “Yeah, I do. She’s the only one for me. I haven’t asked her yet because i wanted to ask you first. So Christian, can I please marry your daughter? I’ll always love her. I’m gonna love her till my last breath” max said looking up at him as he started to become emotional.

The expression plastered on your father’s face was something max can never forget. The way he was so happy that he really loves his daughter but also the fact that his little girl is going to leave him and geri made him upset.

Nervousness rushed through your body when you saw max and your father talk this intensely. You don’t know why but this situation was killing you. What if it’s not gonna turn out right? What if your father never understands?

What if… what if… what if…

“What did he say?” you asked max as you sat beside him when your father left. Max then chuckled and shook his head. “No, nothing” he said as you got frustrated. “What? No, max tell me!” you insisted but max just didn’t tell you anything. “Is he okay with it tho?” you asked again, just to make sure your father isn’t mad at you anymore. “Yes baby, he is” he assured you and you finally felt relieved.

But, yet he wasn’t talking with you. At all. This was making you overthink more. You couldn’t stop stressing about it the whole time.

“Oh, I’m so tired” max said as he lied down on the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chest. You then brushed his hair with your fingers and tugged on it gently to relax him and he groaned in pleasure. “Get some sleep. It was a long day” you said as you kissed his forehead. Max then pulled you closer by your waist and hugged you from behind, snuggling his nose in your shoulder as he kissed it softly. “I love you, y/n” he said as he cuddled you and you smiled at him. “I love you too” you said as he caressed his face.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep but right now you and max both are asleep. Your mum, geri did all her works and got herself a glass of wine and another for Christian. “Thank you” your dad said as he smiled at your mum. “Come here!” your mum excitingly said as Christian got curious and followed her.

Christian’s eyes were softened when he saw you two so comfortable and so in love. That is when he realized that he was wrong this whole time. His girl never made the wrong decision. He couldn’t help but tear up when he realized all that. Your mum admired you two and hugged your dad, comforting him.

The daylight bothered you as you turned around and snuggled your face in max’s chest. After snuggling with him for a little while, you were finally awoken and got up and made coffee for yourself. You took a deep breath and looked down at the mug you’re holding as you started to think about last night.

If he isn’t mad at me anymore then why didn’t he talk to me? Should I go first? Was dad lying to him?

Your mind wandered around as you went to your pocket to get your phone but instead felt something else. It was a paper. You furrowed your brows and got it out. It was a letter. Who put it here?

I don’t know why this is very difficult for me. I feel like I can never say all these in person. Because it will sound very stupid. I still think you’re my little girl. But, I guess I just couldn’t accept the reality. I couldn’t accept the fact that you’re not a kid anymore. You’re growing. You’re changing. If you want me to be honest. I don’t want that. I still miss coloring and drawing with you in the yard. Watching late night movies. Going to the beach with your little elephant you always said was your best friend. I miss all that. But it’s gonna make me look very selfish if I want things to stay like that. I just didn’t want my girl to drift away from me. I hated this change. But, I guess you found someone who can really love you more than I could ever. I know Max for a long while now. I know he’s a good guy. Maybe, I just couldn’t accept it. Although I hate changes but keep on changing honey and learn the best from everything. When you’re reading this, I won’t be home because I have got an emergency meeting to attend and I told your mum not to tell you about it. You can never ever disappoint me. You’re always my precious daughter who makes me proud all the time. I love you.

-Dad

A/N: requests are open! feel free to ask what you want me to write! luv you ❤️

Tagging: @golden-flora @crlsummer @lichterfee @charmisticdisappointment @chrisdr3 @i-wish-this-was-me @sav-f1-girl @woweewoowa @f1driverszona

[vampire-cupid]

Day 10: Christmas Dinner

Yes Im aware most of my writings are for Josh but can you blame me? Look at him!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

“Remind me, why am I doing this again?” you ask Josh, trying to fix your dress in the mirror.

“Because you love me.” he said but you only gave him an non amused look in return.

“Ok, how about you get the mountain cabin for a whole week all for yourself.” Josh bargained, hoping you would agree.

“You buy all the groceries and we have a deal.”

Josh let out a groan “Fine, just please help me.”

Finally coming out the bathroom, you let him see you, dressed in an expensive dress you got from a shopping trip with Josh’s sisters, bought especially for tonight.

“You better take a week off for the trip Washington.” you tell him, watching as confusion covered his face.

“Why would I need a week off?”

“Do you really think I would be alone in the lodge? Who would get the fire?” you explained, glad you could find other reasons than ‘it is creepy as fuck with no one else’.

“Are you flirting with me?” Josh grinned down at you, leaning against the bathroom door.

Rolling your eyes you replied “You wish Washington.”

All this trouble was for a very simple reason. Josh needed someone to play his girlfriend.

His mother has been bugging him if he found any interesting girls at college and it got to the point where he just pretended to have a girlfriend to make her happy.

The only problem is, she invited his ‘girlfriend for Christmas.

And since you were the only one of the friend group that hasn’t met Josh’s parents yet and was had time, he asked you.

By the time you reached the Washington estate, you questioned Josh on everything he told his mother already.

“Wait!” Josh exclaimed as we reached the front door. “Where is the line?” he asked.

“What line?”

Nervous, Josh tries not to look at you before answering, “I mean, should I hold your hand or should I kiss your cheek? What ok and what is not?”

With a laugh you reply “You will know what’s not ok when I kick you.” you laugh, hoping to bring the mood back up.

It didn’t help and you took his hand to calm him down. “It’s ok, we can do this.”

Meeting his parents was the easiest step, Josh’s mother smiling brightly and despite his father’s strict appearance, he was a nice man.

Hannah and Beth spend the whole evening giggling over something, often chiming in when their mother asked you anything about the relationship.

“Can I just ask why you chose to get together with Josh? You are a clever and pretty girl, why him?” “Mum!” Josh exclaimed, no doubt embarrassed and flustered at the way his mother voiced it.

Trying to find words, your eyes were glued to your plate as you started to explain “Josh is just…different. He is sweet and caring. He can make me laugh without trying.” your gaze slowly lifts to Josh, his eyes soften as you continued to talk “I can rely on him no matter what. He might not always be easy but I wouldn’t change a thing.”

With a soft smile, his hand reaches for yours and you two are left just looking at each other, holding hands.

By the time you remember you weren’t alone, your cheeks heated up and you shyly glance away, too embarrassed to look at Josh’s mother and her big smile.

It was late at night when you left, Josh offering to drive you home.

“Thank you again for this evening.” he said.

“No problem, I’m glad your mum didn’t question me too much.”

Stopping in front of your home, Josh turns to look at you.

Your eyes stayed on his as well and despite the silence between you two, it made you feel safe and comfortable.

“Can I just do something crazy?” he asked in a low tone. A smile spread over your lips “When don’t you do something crazy?”

Not waiting any longer, Josh suddenly leaned over you, caressing your cheek and gently pressing his lips against yours. Your lips moved against his, melting into the feeling.

The kiss ended way too soon and Josh turned away. “I’m sorry, I-” you didn’t let him continue, instead taking charge and kissing him in return.

Ending the kiss, you two were left looking at each other.

With a stupid grin stuck on his face, Josh said “I can’t wait for a week in the mountains with just the two of us.”

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

More

My entry for the @pickled-pena challenge!

Summary: You meet Javier Peña on a New Years Eve party. A year later you're still together, making plans for the future.

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

Rating: M

Warnings: falling in love, fluff, pregnancy, dumb puns, kissing, suggestive language, awful lot talk of pickles

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

A new year always seemed to come with expectations. You never really understood why everyone was expected to celebrate the changing of the years. Why everyone expected everyone to be in a good mood and wanting to celebrate the changing of years.

All New Years eve to you was, was your parents now not needing an excuse to get drunk and party when you were growing up. They were young when you were born. Just out of high school. And they tried, at least in the beginning from what you could remember. 

You did not like New Years eve, and you hated new years resolutions. They never worked for you you, so you didn’t bother. And you did not celebrate New Years.

That was until last year when your best friend dragged you to a house party, making you wear a dress you didn’t like but according to her making you look like a dream. 

You never really went out, too busy with work and spending time in bed reading. 

But his night, maybe after a couple of drinks you made a vow to yourself (not a resolution mind you) to be more open, to get out more, to maybe even find love. 

That it would happen on the same night was not something you could have ever imagined. 

You and Javier met twenty minutes after midnight. 

He invited you for a free drink after saving you from the drunkest man you had ever encountered with the most stupid pick up line ever. You thought he was just being nice to you. It would take almost three weeks for you to figure out that he was genuinely interested in you. 

You were more or less inseparable ever since. 

It was a whirlwind, falling in love with Javier Peña. 

He was still fighting his own demons, having spent years in the drug war in Columbia you only read about in the newspapers about. He had moved to Portland, Texas to be close to his father, but also have a new start where nobody knew him. 

He told you almost everything about his time with the DEA, wanting you to know what kind of person he was, his mind made up about not deserving something good, something to love, to be loved. 

It took some time to make him understand that you were in this for the long haul.

Something that came even more apparent when you found out your were pregnant just five months after making things official with him. 

It’s how you found yourself six months pregnant on a ranch in Laredo, Texas on New Years eve. Javier’s father had invited you both to spend the holidays with him, wanting to get to know you, and while you were hesitant at first because of your past with your family, you quickly found yourself wondering if this was what the future would look like. 

Lazy Christmas mornings spend with Javier in bed before you made breakfast. Chucho insisting on making the whole Christmas dinner, shooing you out of the kitchen everytime you even intended to help. 

Presents wrapped under the Christmas tree.

It was like a dream. 

Javier was out to help his father take care of the animals while you were preparing some potato salad for lunch. You were looking for the glass of pickles (well one of them, you had to have at least four different sorts in the house all the time because you had been craving different kinds) when the door opened behind you. Looking over your shoulder you saw Javier walk in, brushing his hands over his jeans, wearing a Cowboy hat on his head, before he gave you a small smile. 

„Whatcha up to baby?“ He asked, walking over to you. 

„Searching for the glass of pickles I need for the salad,“ you hummed, still on your tiptoes as you looked inside the fridge. 

„Any specific kind?“ He asked. You felt his hand on your back and sighed. 

„The ones with the red label on the jar?“ You said, still looking. They had a shitload of Garlic in them and you were craving garlic pickles. For the salad of course. Just for the salad.

He hummed, pushing the fridge closed and you pouted and turned around, finding him smiling down at you. 

„If I remember correctly you ate the rest of those last night,“ he hummed, wrapping his arms around you. 

You widened your eyes. 

„I did not,“ you hissed.

„Did so. Found the whole jar empty this morning, next to an almost empty bottle of whipped cream,“ he nodded, trying to lean in to kiss you but you narrowed your eyes, bringing one of your hands up, your finger tipping pointing against his chest. 

"You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?“ You asked and he huffed, still smiling. He leaned in, his lips at your ear. 

„I was trying to get some sleep after you jumped me and made me made you cum four times,“ he whispered and your lips parted in mock shock, releasing a shaky breath. 

„I made you? If I remember correctly you were very much into it, Mr. Peña,“ you teased and he shrugged. 

„Never said I wasn’t,“ he finally kissed you and you hummed against his lips. 

„Where’s your dad?“ You asked against his lips. 

„Going to the store to get you your pickles,“ he grinned and you laughed. 

„So that means… We have an empty house to ourselves for what? An hour?“ You asked. 

„He’s gonna visit his brother too, so more like three hours,“ he nodded. 

„Hmm…“ you hummed, bringing our arms up, your hands crossing behind his neck. 

„Mhhh…“ he hummed back, his lips slowly wandering down your jaw. 

„What… ever will we do with all that time?“ You asked innocently. He grinned at you, slowly turning you and walking you towards his bedroom, his lips on yours. 

„Wanna check how often I can hide my pickle inside of you?“ he asked and you both started laughing seconds after. 

„You did not just say that,“ you giggled, shaking your head. 

„Yeah I can not believe I just said that either,“ he shook his head, helping you sit down on the bed when you made it to the bedroom. 

You let yourself fall back, sliding into the middle of the mattress, looking up at him. 

„Only you could say something this stupid and still have me dripping for you,“ you sighed, parting your legs. Hungry eyes followed your every move, your fingers as the slowly pulled on the dress you were wearing, revealing more and more of your skin to his eyes. 

„Yeah?“ He asked, his voice dark.

You let your eyes wander the length of his body, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, his cock already hard inside his jeans. Still wearing that cowboy hat.

„Wanna eat my pussy?“ You grinned and he groaned. 

„Fuck yeah.“

It was in the early morning hours of the new year that you found yourself in front of the fireplace next to the Christmas tree, laying with your back against Javier’s chest.

His father had gone to sleep shortly after midnight, leaving the two of you alone. 

„Any resolutions for the new year?“ You asked him, his hand slowly rubbing over your growing stomach. 

„Many,“ he said, his lips close to your ear. 

„Me too,“ you nodded. 

„Wanna share?“ He asked. You shook your head no.

„Don’t wanna jinx it,“ you said and he sighed. 

„Yeah, me neither.“

„Got one I wanna share though,“ you hummed, a smile playing on your lips. 

„Yeah?“

„Gonna love you even more this year than I did last year,“ you whispered, feeling his arms tightening around you. 

„Still love you more,“ he hummed and kissed you neck.

[melancholicstation]

CONSIDERING AVIATION? - a bobby kennedy one-shot

summary: turns out this attorney general is definitely prone to peer pressure by pretty women! who could've guessed that. authors note: of course gimagus was not around in the sixties (though i do try to dress the readers in period appropriate clothes) the reader's outfits are literally an apparition of my ssense shopping cart at a specific time! feel no pressure to imagine them that way. let that fashion freak flag fly high! shout out to @remotewatch for indulging in airport bobby kennedy and giving inspiration!

tags: @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl @strryhaze @beloved-angel @absurdlyvintage

warnings: none just bobby being peer pressured into taking off his shirt but he loves it more than he ought to!

words: 2,308

A lot of people probably thought you were crazed for selecting a career path in the sector of aviation—with all it's arduous work schedule, time away from friends and family, and draining time zone changes. But nevertheless you loved it.

"Do you think I'm crazy For considering aviation? I'm a fan of flying...

As a child of a particularly affluent New England family you enjoyed the pleasure of flying often in your childhood—your beloved aupair dutifully carrying behind you your soft shell carry-on luggage bag containing various cotton pique dresses and chemises, along with a backpack containing note pads and pencils to do your homework between flights.

Safe to say growing up flying across the globe gave you an innate fixation on it advancing into it as a career path in adulthood. Which is exactly how you got here, being an air hostess for Texas' biggest airline in the state: Air Texas.

Why not do it for the nation? Cause I have nothing else to do...

Safe to say your parents weren't the biggest fans of your particular career path. Your mother wanted you to be some sort of home-maker living it up in North Connecticut in a weatherboard house, sedated out of your mind on blue pills making jello moulds all day—okay maybe that's not exactly transcribing what she said but you get the gist!

In opposition your father always had dreams of you becoming a middle school teacher, claiming you had a certain way with children. However, you would beg to differ if a particular heated fight with one of your teenage cousins on Christmas morning ending in tears and a very unhappy look on both of your parents faces was anything to go by.

Instead of submitting to either of your parents wishes you bucked the trend and got a big degree in philosophy of all things, to which your father calmly explained that he would not spend over four thousand dollars into Harvards pockets just to facilitate a degree that would leave you severely and desperately unemployed.

But, because he's your father he relented, as you thought most fathers ought to do with their daughter's aspirations.

However you can't he was entirely wrong on the whole unemployment rate of philosophy students. Well-paying employers weren't exactly falling over themselves to find young, freshly-graduated philosophy majors to hire. So when Air Texas provided you with an opportunity you took it with absolute and total vigour.

Have a big degree in philosophy But I don't know what I want to be...

Working for an airline was, to you at least, a pretty stable method of income which payed you to basically talk shit with other twenty-something women and have limited contact with the on-board passengers, bar simply asking them if they want orange juice or coffee with their plastic covered, stale piece of bread to go along with their miso soup that is probably still in the best by date. Probably.

All in all it was a good gig, with a stellar choice of wardrobe.

Getting ready for your job was a relatively easy and stress-free task for you. First step was to wash yourself and hair in rose water, then carefully assemble your hair into smooth waves with the front sections pulled back by two ivory chignon hair pins engraved with the company namesake. Moving onto makeup was easy: fresh skin with a powdered t-zone, red lacquered lips, and a tawn beige blush to the cheeks.

So I'm going into aviation, yeah, mom I'm going into aviation, yeah, dad Going into aviationI'm going into aviation...

The uniform in its basic form was relatively strict: white ballerina toe high boots in white, low rise mini skirt or denim micro shorts in white paired with a halter fitted top in a cotton-linen blend also in white.

The details, however, in your uniform were more customizable. A hat was required so you chose a paperboy denim cap, a pair of butterfly lenses and with some more affixing of random jewellery pieces you'd possibly stolen from your grandmothers estate years ago, you were all but ready to head to work.

You'd thought today to be a relatively normal work day, that was until you attended the mandatory briefing meeting required before every flight and was informed that a member of "very high influence" had loaned out the aircraft for the day and that your boss had offered staff to service those on board.

How curious.

You'd never really heard of famous people being able to loan out commercial airplanes, you'd heard that more often than not they fly private—which made you realise that it was more than likely going to be a large volume of passengers boarding the flight to even start to justify what you imagined would be a gargantuan loan price tag.

After briefing was done you'd forgotten mostly about it till boarding—besides it wasn't the first time a famous person had flown public before. Though somehow it was always your most hated colleague that got to unfairly serve said famous person tea or coffee instead of you, so the star-power of a boarding passenger didn't all that much change your workday or your mood.

At least it hadn't until now.

You'd begun boarding and preparing for the short three hour flight without much fuss—being informed that the group would arrive in the next hour. So you used the time to make coffee for your three closet work girlfriends: Renee, Colleen, and Virginia. Now, you'd never say this to them face to face but them being there made those arduous flight hours worth it to you, and they were the only ones who would indulge your inclination to lightly gossip about passengers. Lightly, of course.

You'd all assumed your positions as boarding came into session, as if on auto-pilot you simply did your job: politely meeting the eyes of passengers, giving them each an earnest smile. But, after the 5th passenger you'd started to see a pattern linking each person from the next—and it wasn't that they were just from the same group loaning the plane, they all donned a specific sort of pin.

Initially they moved much too quick for you to discern any sort of writing on the pin, but once a women kneeled down to slide her cabine trunk under her seat you could clearly make out the content of the pin: the pin writing "Kennedy" in simple, white arial font against a lapis background.

Some wore it on their jacket lapel, others on their tie, and others simply on their mohair sweater.

Huh, must be a Kennedy campaign plane you thought to yourself. Not even really entertaining the idea that the "Kennedy" up for office would be on board at this very moment.

The first thirty minutes of the flight was pretty much smooth sailing all around, from what you gathered the campaign members were all young, vivacious citizens putting in the effort. In a certain light they were incredibly admirable for their efforts, though you didn't know that you quite had it in you to follow a politician to every damn state in the country.

That was until you'd seen his face. That damn face on his face.

To Colleen's credit you weren't the first to spot him, quite frankly because you were so sure a man of his status would be irrevocably be flying private. Always.

She, according to her word had seen him set up shop across two recliner chairs, sitting cross legged with a gentle yet firm hand stroking his cocker spaniel 'Freckles' and another flipping through a manila folder filled to the brim with loose leaf.

What clued you into his arrival however was the loud ruckus that your three friends were making by loudly and not at all discreetly whispering in each others ears in the crew area. Feeling unbelievably left out you race over there desperate to hear whatever they've got to tell, they clue you in with remarkable speed and clarity. Bobby Kennedy is on board right this minute.

Though, it's only when Renee motions your eyes with her hand that you see the main topic of conversation for yourself: Bobby Kennedy quietly reading a book... innocuous enough sure to the naked eye. But after a short inspection you see that not only did he discard his sleeveless sweater vest but that his white button-down has two-less buttons covered than it originally did: making a littering of chest hair subtly apparent to those who looked for it. Giggling with your girls, you started to feel a little bad for objectifying a man who's simply just reading a book but in your mind it was utterly harmless.

After about 5 minutes of ogling you'd been called over to refill the beverage jugs, leaving the three to have their fun with him. But only when you got back you saw just how much fun they were having...

You weren't exactly sure what you had walked into—all you knew was the first thing you saw was bobby being cornered by your very charming and very attractive friends and Virginia saying in a tone bordering on mocking tone, yet exceeding at being sickly sweet,

"Oh C'mon Bobby it's only your shirt! A peek really can't hurt now could it?"

Peeking out from your position in the cabin alcove, you observe a deep red crimson blush wash over his face, bathing it in the kind of expression right before the big dip of a roller coaster: exhilaration meeting intense trepidation all along the features of his greek god like face.

Blushing, he begins to fiddle with the cotton of his button-up, listening intently to the encouragement from your two other friends,

"C'mon Bobby we won't ever tell a single soul, it'll just be our little secret!"

Quietly giggling, as to not give your specific vantage point away, you're deeply shocked when he actually does relent to their request. Sheepishly removing the cotton layer revealing a mosaic of chestnut hair mediated by a taupe natural tan to the skin.

What shocked you even more, however, is that Renee calls out to you, seemingly aware that you had been there the entire time,

"Y/n, honey, come take a picture of us with that Kennedy boy! He's real cute too!"

Groaning internally from the embarrassment of being caught you take the camera from her hands, quickly snapping a few photos of your friends either side of a shirtless Bobby Kennedy.

This would surely be a story to tell at dinner parties, Huh?

Laughing slightly you hand the photos back, to which the girls ogle at the pictures pointing at the picture and calling him over,

"Oh Bobby, Look how darling you look here!"

As if just registering your presence as you were about to leave this very strange bordering on erotic situation. He appears docile as ever quickly nodding at you as if to say hello without actually verbalising it, waving with his left hand.

You wave back warmly and decide to leave the alcove, but not before taking in the utter physical comedy of a United States senator completely shirtless, wearing black trousers adorned with a slate belt, in front of a handful of Texas flight attendants simply at their request.

It's about an hour before you encounter Bobby again, and coincidentally you'd hit the tarmac into the airport about 15 minutes ago, with all passengers boarding off bar one: Bobby.

Apparently he had fallen asleep on the floor of the seat along with his dog and no one had the heart to tell him the planes landed by waking him up. It felt cruel, almost like waking up a newborn fawn in the middle of nap time. Did fawns even have nap time? You didn't quite know.

Taking one for the team, and totally not because you were curious what his face would look like completely rested: not haunted by the daily struggle you were sure he faced being who he was and doing what he did.

Kneeling down you quietly knock on the side of the plastic seat in an effort to wake him up, although that only causes his dog, Freckles, to awake and furiously lick the face of its owner. Which does begin to wake him up.

"Mr Kennedy, Sorry to disturb you but we've arrived at Lafayette Regional Airport."

"That's quite okay—thank you very much"

You notice he's put his button-up and sweater back on, much to your chagrin. Turning away you start to leave to collect your own baggage when you hear an audible stomach groan of hunger from what you can only assess as coming from Bobby as your the only two on the aircraft.

Sympathetic, you reach into your waist pack and fish out some rice crackers, along with a bottled water, and place it on the cushion of the seat in front of him. Leaving food for him to find like a person leaves food out for easily scared woodland creatures.

Coming back to do your final sweep and check of the seats before they were to be cleaned by the cleaning crew for the next flight, you lock eyes with Bobby and trail your eyes down, down, down to a surprisingly, shockingly large bulge in the pant of his trouser, accompanied by a pained from anticipation expression that almost drips over his entire face covering, encasing him whole.

All in all he looks utterly a mess and pathetic, not at all how he should present himself to the adoring fans lined outside the airport immolating his presence. So you do as anyone in your position would do—okay maybe not everyone but you'd wager on most,

"Give me one sec, I'll take care of it I promise."

You leave Bobby alone and catch your three friends unloading their personal carry-ons, you inform them that Bobby's in the bathroom and you'll see him out and make sure everything's in order for the next flight. They eye you suspiciously as if they know what's really going on, but no one dares to share.

They know you'll debrief tomorrow anyway so what's the point in spoiling the fun early anyway?

Safe to say after a good 20 minutes, Bobby Kennedy departs the plane and greets slobbering fans looking more chipper and revitalised than any person ought to look after spending hours on board a metal flying tube... but who were they to speculate on what went on during that flight?

I'm gonna take a vacation, yeah, man Fly fighter jets all over the nation Fly fighter jets all over the nation"

[puffyphantom-v2]

I've really been wanting to clean/finish this one, but the writing gods have forsaken me and left me without guidance on how to proceed 😔

Rated:

Danny dug his numb fingers into the plush blanket wrapped around him, scooting across the expensive Persian rug to sit closer to the open fireplace. Even if he was able to feel the warmth emanating from the flames, it wasn’t nearly enough to calm his annoyingly persistent shivering. “So, b-basically, you’re saying that I have ice p-powers?”

“That would be an adequate summary, yes,” Vlad answered from where he was standing some feet away, turning a page from the large purple book he was cradling in one arm. “I’ve learned of a peculiar bunch that reside in the Ghost Zone who are apparently quite knowledgeable in the subject. Though we have no choice but to wait before we can go and make our inquiries. My ghost portal won’t be up and running again until tomorrow.”

“Right. Just m-my luck.”

“It’s unfortunate that your father’s portal is also out of commission at the moment.” Vlad shut the book and sighed. “Let this be a lesson, little badger. Never ignore the responsibility of changing out the Ecto-filtrator,” he said as he walked to the nearby bookshelf and slid the book back into place.

Danny scoffed. “You’re one to talk. Remind me again why your portal needed to be f-f-fixed?”

Vlad turned around as he tsked with a condescending wave of his finger. “Let’s not change the subject, now.”

“Hmph.” Danny shifted so that he could sit with his arms wrapped around his knees. “What else is there to say anyway? Besides the f-fact that I’m apparently going through g-g-ghost p-puberty.” He frowned. As if teenage puberty wasn’t enough. And just when he’d thought finally gotten ahold of all his latent powers, too.

Even worse, why did it have to be ice of all things? It reminded him of winter, which reminded him of Christmas—plus everything else relating to that awful holiday. And that was the last thing he wanted on his mind when it was the middle of summer.

“Luckily for you, if this really is what I think it is, then this ‘ghost puberty’ phase shouldn’t be nearly as much trouble,” Vlad said. “For now, you only need to put up with your symptoms until the portal is ready.”

Danny shot Vlad a look. “Easier s-said than done.” He extended his arms with his palms facing the fireplace, unable to hold back a violent shudder as he did so. “I can’t even tell if any of this is working. It’s like my body isn’t able to retain any heat. I’m almost tempted to throw myself in the fire and see if that does anything.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. Returning your charred remains to your parents isn’t exactly on my bucket list.”

“Good to know.”

Vlad hummed, remaining silent for a moment afterwards. “Maybe I can be of some help. I have an idea.”

“I’d love to hear it,” Danny mumbled.

“Phase your clothes off and lay on your back.”

“Huh?” Danny whipped head around, staring wide-eyed at Vlad as he watched him get on his knees beside him. Even with the cold cutting off his blood flow, he had no doubt that his cheeks had turned a faint shade of red. “Uh. I’m not sure t-that’s gonna help. Well, I mean, it might. But, um—”

Vlad interrupted with a chuckle. “Trust me, dear boy, it’s nothing like that,” he said as he rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.

Still wary, Danny looked down at Vlad’s hands as he set them on his thighs before looking back up to meet his gentle gaze. His intention to help appeared genuine enough. And at this point Danny welcomed anything that could stop him from possibly freezing over.

He followed Vlad’s instructions, taking the blanket and laying it flat on the rug. Then, he phased his pajamas off, opting to keep his boxers on for the sake of saving at least some decency. His body immediately noticed the lack of clothes. He couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering or himself from shivering. “Is t-t-this really n-necessary? Seems c-counterproductive,” he struggled to say as he laid face up on the blanket and wrapped his arms around himself.

Vlad smiled, shifting forward to remove the space between them. He remained on his knees with his legs parallel to Danny’s body, sitting so close that they were touching. “Very much necessary,” he answered, gently prying Danny’s arms away from himself and guiding them to his sides in a silent demand to keep them there.

Danny let out another shudder as the cold continued to nip at his skin, and he wondered if he should’ve listened to Vlad after all. His skepticism doubled when Vlad placed his large hands on his chest, palms flat against him. Danny peered up at him. “H-hey, you s-said—”

“Shh,” Vlad hushed.

Danny was about to protest again when he was ultimately silenced by his surprise from a strange but familiar sensation. His wide eyes shifted back down to Vlad’s hands.

“Feeling less like you just walked out of a blizzard?” Vlad asked.

“Yeah.” Danny kept his eyes on Vlad’s hands, feeling the cold within him quickly dissipate as a pleasant warmth bloomed from the center of his chest. “What is this? What’re you doing?” he asked, looking up at Vlad.

“Nothing, really. I’m simply using my unique ability to your advantage.”

“Huh?”

“Do you recall our conversation from earlier?”

Danny thought for a moment. “The one about your fire powers?”

“Precisely.”

“So, are you saying you’re using your fire powers to… warm me up?”

“Hm, your poor grades have given me the wrong impression of you. Looks like you’re not as dull-witted as I’d thought,” Vlad taunted with a smile. “But, yes, you are correct.”

Danny held his tongue, tempted to push Vlad away with a little help from his own powers. If only he wasn’t doing such a great job at keeping him warm. He looked back down at Vlad’s hands together with his near-naked form. “Weird. Using your powers for something like this, I mean. But I guess that explains why I needed to take my clothes off. It works better with direct contact, huh?”

“Oh, no. You didn’t need to be bare for this.”

Danny gave Vlad a deadpanned look.

“What? If I’m going to be sitting here, then I at least deserve something nice to look at, don’t you think?”

“Perverted old man,” Danny muttered, shifting slightly to get a little more comfortable—even if being half naked with two large hands on him made that a bit hard to do. “Uh, I appreciate the help, but does this mean we’re gonna have to stay like this until the morning?”

“As appealing as it sounds to have my hands on you all night long, I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m hoping I only need to warm you up enough for you to be able to pull through the night. Perhaps half an hour of this will be enough.”

“I hope so. Um, thanks,” Danny said quietly.

Vlad only offered another smile in response.

Suddenly more aware of how awkward the situation truly was, Danny turned his head away, staring at the fireplace as it continued to crackle and burn. He blamed the heat creeping up his neck on the steady rise of his body temperature. Why was he so embarrassed anyway? It’s not like it’s the first time Vlad has seen him without any clothes on. And even more than that.

Maybe it was the fact that Vlad was helping him—especially while he’s in such a vulnerable state. Now that was something he definitely wasn’t used to. After all the violent encounters they’ve had in the past, having Vlad look after him seemed like such a foreign concept. Heck, sometimes Danny still had trouble believing that they could be in the same room together without a fight breaking out.

It’s because they’re the only ones of their kind and it didn’t make sense for them to be going after each other’s throats. That’s what Vlad had told him anyway—along with a lengthy apology for all his mistakes. And, yeah, it was hard to believe him at first, but it was even harder to deny the truth behind his words. Thinking about it now, Danny couldn’t imagine going through something like this alone, where the only person who would be able to help him is…

“Are you feeling all right?”

Danny blinked. He looked up at Vlad before quickly turning away again. “Yeah. Uh. I was just thinking that—well, I guess we don’t need the fireplace anymore.”

“I suppose not. Though it helps make the setting more romantic, doesn’t it?”

Danny couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Sure. Me lying here in my underwear while you help me not freeze to death. So romantic.”

Vlad laughed quietly, and then the room fell silent again. The fireplace crackled and pop. More heat rose to Danny’s cheeks as he felt Vlad’s gaze on him, and he shifted his legs, keeping his knees together as a different kind of warmth gathered below his navel. He swallowed.

“Actually, you might’ve had the right idea earlier.”

“Huh?” Knowing he wouldn’t be able to meet Vlad’s eyes, Danny didn’t dare look up.

He tensed a bit when Vlad moved his hands. Thumbs ran over his nipples, rubbing them just enough to tease. “A good amount of physical activity does indeed heat up the body quite well.”

[tagsecretsanta]

From @pareidoliaonthemove

From @pareidoliaonthemove to @littleoldrachel

The Art of a Gift

Fanfic for the TAG Secret Santa 2024

@pareidoliaonthemove

NOTES:

For TAG Secret Santa 2024

Prompts: 1 Nightmare Before Christmas | 2 “Well, SOMEONE just made the naughty list…” | 3 Feeling sad but everyone expects them to be happy because it’s Christmas!

Extra: Virg is my favourite but I’m happy with anything!

I hope this story fits the bill, and a wishing the recipient, and all the Thunderfam a very happy Christmas, filled with all the things you love the best!

Virgil Tracy approached the cluster of girls in the schoolyard nervously. While he knew the laws that governed the hierarchy of the school now allowed him to approach them, his gut instinct told him to keep away.

Boys who like art and piano do not associate with cheerleaders, and ‘in girls’.

But Candice Callen – cheerleader, ‘in girl’ and widely acknowledged as the prettiest girl in their year – had asked him on a date.

Virgil had been uncertain about accepting – things like that just don’t happen, not for real, but no matter the circumstances, boys like him don’t turn down girls like her – not if he wants to survive to graduate.

So Virgil had accepted, even if he spent the whole time waiting for her parents to chase him off their doorstep, or the football team to materialise and do god-knows-what to him (stories of past ‘pranks’ abounded throughout the school and had traumatised Virgil and all his friends before they even thought of casting eyes at girls).

But nothing bad had happened. Candice had introduced him to her parents as her boyfriend, and declared him as such to several other couples from her circle of friends that had been at the restaurant they had eaten at. At the end of the night, Candice had looked up at him shyly, and said she had enjoyed it, and would he like to go out again…?

Virgil, still in a state of shock and unsure about what exactly was going on, had stammered out an agreement, and somehow found himself going on a succession of dates with the prettiest, most popular girl in school.

That his father and grandmother were also doubtful about this new and unexpected relationship was also concerning. But Virgil couldn’t find a graceful way to extract himself from the situation while ensuring that he could walk the school grounds without being either shunned or beaten to a pulp, and time progressed until it was nearly Christmas and Virgil found himself attending a succession of Christmas parties that he would normally not have set foot on the same street as.

And when Virgil somehow found himself attending the Christmas party for his father’s company with Candace on his arm, wearing a dress that had his grandmother tutting with disapproval, his father frowning censoriously and asking pointed questions about Candice being cold, while his brothers eyes were out on stalks, and Virgil was afraid to touch her, lest he make contact with Something That He Should Not Touch.

It was much earlier than customary when Jeff summoned Kyrano to take ‘the kids’ home, to the poorly concealed delight of the five Tracy brothers and Kayo, and the pouting disappointment of Candice.

But Christmas was nearly upon them, and now Virgil was nervously approaching his girlfriend and her friends. He was spotted as he dithered a short distance away.

“Virgil!” Candice squealed, throwing her arms wide and running towards him. Virgil resolutely Did Not Look at the bouncing of her sweater front. She stopped a short distance from him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and leaned in, performing her customary European Double Cheek Kiss with two loud ‘muwah’s, her left foot raised behind her.

Virgil, at a loss what to do, had rested his hands just above her elbows, as she pulled away, he let his hands slide down her arms to catch her hands. “I, uh, I was wondering if, if it would be alright if I came around tonight to deliver your Christmas present?” he asked, feeling his face heat up as the cluster of girls behind Candice elbowed each other and tittered. “You know, with you heading out of state to visit family…”

“Oh, Virgil! A present? Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Candice cooed, and then she giggled coyly. “My parents will be home, so I hope it isn’t that kind of present…”

Virgil flushed beet red at the laughter from her cohort. “NO! No! Oh, no! Nothing like that!” Then Candice pouted and Virgil realised how his words could have been taken. “I mean, um, what, ah, that…”

Candice giggled again. “Silly. I was teasing. Of course you can come around tonight, you know my step-mom and dad like you and you’re always welcome!”

Virgil swallowed. That was true, Mrs Callen had been a friend of his moms, back then she had been in her first marriage, and had been a meek and nervy woman – Virgil had been too young to understand at the time; but with her second marriage she had flourished, and was by all accounts a ‘good match’ with Mr Callen, a well-respected accountant and volunteer firefighter in the town. Virgil had long been familiar with both adults, and they had been nothing but welcoming when he visited their house.

“Uh, okay. Would about five thirty be okay? Only I can’t stay long, because …”

Candice waved away his explanation. “Five thirty will be perfect, Virgil. And Toby has some dreary Rescue Scouts thing that I have to go to, and he’s got to be there for six-thirty.”

Virgil would also be at the ‘dreary’ Rescue Scouts ‘thing’: it was John’s last mid-year presentation, and he was being honoured as one of the thirty Scouts ever, world wide, to have accomplished all badges, and all three of the ‘Personal Improvement’ Challenges. John was particularly pleased to be receiving his recognition at the Mid-Year. It meant he had beaten Scott by six months.

Virgil nodded. “Okay. Um. I’ll see you at five thirty?”

Candice nodded, and pulling her hands free, turned, and hurried back to her friends, disappearing into their midst amid a tsunami of giggles.

Virgil backed away a few steps until he was sure they had lost interest in him, before scurrying back to where he belonged.

“All set, kiddo?” Grandma Tracy looked at Virgil slumped nervously his unaccustomed seat in the front of her car.

“Uh, yeah,” Virgil glanced at the back seat, where the gift was carefully strapped into one of the rear seats. Scott sat on the other side of the car, and grinned encouragingly at him. His eldest brother was back from College having turned in his assignments early, and having withstood his father’s interrogation on the subject, was now along for the ride to ‘support’ Virgil.

Jeff had taken his other three sons to the hall early to help set up, and Scott and Grandma would join in after dropping Virgil at the Callens house, and would be back exactly forty-five minutes later to collect him.

Virgil stared out his widow at the house. He was sweating, and it had nothing to do with the heater Grandma had on full blast in the car.

“It’ll be fine, Virg. She’ll love it,” Scott said. “Do you want a hand carrying it to the door?”

“NO!” Virgil yelped, before shamefacedly turning to face his brother. “Sorry, no, I’ll be fine. I’m just…” he waved a hand. “I’ve not done this before, okay?”

Scott grinned his unrepentant amusement, and Grandma chuckled sympathetically. “Come on, kiddo. Out you get. Faint heart, and all that…”

Virgil flushed again and scrambled to escape the car. He still remembered her giving Scott advice – rather graphic advice – about how to french kiss, when Scott had embarrassedly admitted to a disastrous attempt at a kiss with an early girlfriend. He did not want to hear what she might come out with for this situation.

It was with his Grandmother’s fond laughter ringing in his ears that Virgil mounted the front stairs to the Callen’s house, carefully carrying the large gift wrapped package. He waited a moment to ensure the car had turned the corner on its way to the hall before he rang the doorbell.

It was a suspiciously short time before the door opened. Mrs Callen was there, “Virgil! Come in, we’ve been expecting you.”

As Virgil shuffled into the house with his package, Mrs Callen scanned the road outside. “Your ride already left, Virgil?”

He nodded. “Yes, Mrs Callen. Grandma and Scott have gone to help set up the hall. Dad and the others are already there.”

She smiled. “Toby and his Dad are there helping set up, too.” A glance towards the stairs. “Candice takes a bit of time to get read, and I needed time to get the dinner sorted. So we’ll catch them up. If you’re going to the hall too, we can give you a ride?”

Virgil smiled. “Thank you, Mrs Callen, but I’m under strict instructions. I think Dad is looking for a way to make sure Grandma’s not asked to help in the kitchen again,” he added, conspiratorially and she smiled.

“I don’t think there’s anybody new enough to make that mistake,” Mrs Callen reassured him, then paused taking in the gift wrapped parcel, Virgil was clutching.

“Why don’t you wait in the lounge, and I’ll hurry Candice along? I promise, I’ll keep out of your way!”

Virgil flushed, muttered his thanks and followed Mrs Callen to the door to the lounge room. As she hurried off, Virgil carefully propped the gift up against the low coffee table, and turned to stand beside it, facing the door.

Virgil was always nervous when he performed, or when people saw his art, but it seemed to him that this was the worst he’d ever been. He felt hot and cold by turns, there was no oxygen in the room, and it took him a second to realise that what he had thought was some weird metal band being played at high volume was actually his own heartbeat.

This is stupid, he told himself. It’s just a present. I’m just giving her a present. He ran through the breathing exercises his music teacher had taught him and gradually he restored control of his own body.

Candice appeared in the doorway. “Virgil! You made it!” she squealed, and he had yet another repeat of the shoulder-grip double European Cheek Kiss.

“Uh, yeah. Grandma dropped me off. She’s got to pick me up in a bit…” Candice gave him a blank look. “Oh, um, so,” he picked up the package and held it out to her. “This is for you,” he said, awkwardly. “Ah, Happy Christmas?”

Candice blinked at the gift and took it, her face a wide, toothy smile. “Oh, thank you!” she cooed. She tore off the paper, letting it fall to the floor around her feet. Virgil shuffled slightly to the side as she held the revealed canvas out at arms length, so he could see her expression. For a second there was the blank look, then she frowned at the canvas. Virgil’s heart sank.

He knew the painting – a portrait of Candice – wasn’t his very best work, but it was very, very far from his worst. He’d had the realisation that he’d be expected to give her a gift a bit too late, but overall, he was pleased with the result.

He shifted a little, and Candice seemed to realise that he was watching her. The wide, toothy smile that plastered itself to her face was unconvincing, as she exclaimed, “Oh, it’s amazing, Virgil! To think you painted a portrait of little old me!”

Virgil relaxed. Maybe she wasn’t used to receiving art? It had long ago become his go-to. Paintings, drawings, small sculptures and specially written piano music were received with great enthusiasm by his family and the friends he gifted them to.

Candice set the painting on the lounge and looked back at him expectantly. Virgil flushed, his nervousness returning as he realised he didn’t know what she was waiting for him to do. “Um, I’m glad you like it,” he hedged. “I don’t normally give people portraits, not of themselves, but I realised I didn’t know what your favourite type of landscape was, and a still life seemed too, uh, generic, you know? Just … not personal enough? Ah, I’ll get it framed, I just didn’t know what type of frame … Mr Mishra, has a shop just off Main, I always get him to frame my paintings. Um, it’ll have to be in the New Year, though, he’s gone to India to visit some cousins…”

Virgil ran out of things to say, while he was waiting for Candice to … stop looking at him like that.

The silence stretched for a moment, and the frown began to form on Candice’s face. “Is that it?” she asked.

“Is what it?”

“Is that it? Is that all you’re giving me? A painting? Where’s the rest of my present?”

Virgil stared at her. “The frame. You’ll need to choose that…”

He cringed under the thunderous frown. “Virgil,” Candice said, very slowly and deliberately. “I am not your mother. This is not Mothers Day in kindergarten. This is Christmas, and I am your girlfriend. And some tacky painting you made yourself isn’t going to cut it. I know you know what I want. And I know you brought it. There was only one, and it’s gone now. The day after I marked it out for you.” She glared. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, turning up with this painting, but I’m giving you one chance to get it right. You hear?”

Virgil nodded, his knees feeling week.

“Good. I’m going to tell everyone that my present, my real present, had a problem with it, and it’s taking some time to get it fixed. You can give it to me once I’m back at school from my trip. At lunch the first day. In front of everyone. So make it good. Make sure everyone knows how valuable I am. Understand?”

Virgil nodded.

“Good. Now go. And. Fix. This. Up.”

Virgil went.

He was halfway to the hall before he realised what he was doing. He paused, shivering in the street as the wind cut him straight to the bone, as he considered his options. If he called for a ride, he would be both reprimanded for walking alone and so far in the cold, and interrogated for the reason for his quick departure from the Callens.

Virgil had to go to the Rescue Scouts presentation. Virgil didn’t want to go to the Rescue Scouts presentation. He wanted to go home. He needed to think. And he needed quiet to do so. Candice’s words had shaken him to his core. Tacky. Childlike. What if everyone though that? What if Dad, Grandma and his brothers thought he was tacky and childish and cheap giving them gifts he had made, rather than spending his money on them, like they did for him?

He started walking, only to stop after a few dozen steps. What if Mom hadn’t liked his gifts?

The cold that chilled him now had nothing to do with the wind.

Eventually Virgil managed to get his feet moving, Jeff’s long-held mantra kickstarting his thought processes. When problems dogpile on you, start working on the most immediate one. First up, Virgil needed to get to the Rescue Scouts Presentation, and come up with an excuse for not calling for a ride, or waiting for the appointed pickup time.

He still didn’t have a suitable explanation by the time he slipped into the Hall, and almost straight into his grandmother.

“Virgil! I was just heading out to pick you up!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here so soon?”

“I, um…”

He was saved by Grandma glancing over his shoulder. “Oh, Mrs Callen is here. I hope you thanked her, young man.”

“Yes, Grandma.” It wasn’t lying, Virgil told himself. He had thanked Mrs Callen, just not for what Grandma thought he had. He quickly sought to change the subject. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Grandma smiled at him, “You’re a good boy, Virgil. Yes, they still need help setting out chairs up the back.”

Virgil nodded, and fled to the back of the hall, on the far side from his father and brothers and started dutifully lining up chairs for the audience.

Caught up with trying to figure out which of the next of his problems, Virgil lost track of his familys whereabouts, and bumped into his father. “Virgil, you’re here early,” Jeff said, surprised. “How did it go, son?”

Virgil froze, he had no story ready and no desire to tell his father exactly how badly he had messed up.

Mr Callen came to his rescue. “Jeff, honestly, what a question! Would you have told your father the particulars of a meet-up with your girlfriend at his age?”

Jeff chuckled. “I guess not, at that.” He smiled at Virgil. “I’m sure she loved her present, son. I just like seeing you get the appreciation you deserve.”

Virgil’s heart sank at the words. What did his father mean by that? Did he really think Virgil deserved praise? Or was that a way of saying that Virgil deserved the scorn and disdain Candice had just shown him? He forced a smile. “Thanks, Dad,” and fled with another chair.

Virgil was living in a nightmare.

It was less than a week to Christmas, and every waking moment was taken up by trying to figure out how to fix the problems he suddenly fond himself faced with.

He had nearly two hundred dollars in his hidden wallet. One hundred and ninety three dollars and eighty cents, to be exactly.

One hundred and ninety three dollars and eighty cents. One week to Christmas. Four brothers, and two adults. And a girlfriend who had apparently told him what he was expected to buy. Her comment about how ‘valuable’ the gift was to show her to be suggested that he was supposed to give her an expensive present.

Virgil threw himself into all the chores and after-school jobs he could, trying to scrape every last cent he could to firm up his personal finances, while he tried to figure out what to do. Should he use all his money to buy a present for Candice and try to save his hide at school? Should he commit social suicide and try to buy acceptable gifts for his family? Virgil couldn’t decide what to do.

And all the while he went to school, and tried to focus on his lessons; continued his usual after-school lessons and activities; and fulfilled his Christmas-related obligations – playing piano for carol concerts for the hospital, and two of his Grandmother’s fundraising extravaganzas. All the while he tried to hide the true extent of his misery and confusion.

He knew he wasn’t managing it: reprimands for daydreaming in class, followed by concerned questions about his health from teaches; teasing comments from his brothers about ‘moping because he was missing his girlfriend’; and frequently being felt for fever and having his throat and glands checked by his father and grandmother, who were concerned that he was coming down with a seasonal malady. Virgil desperately tried to deflect all this unwanted attention, it was a distraction he didn’t need. There were concerned looks, but everyone backed off, not wanting to provoke a quarrel this close to the time of peace and goodwill.

But time ticked steadily away, and Virgil was very aware of the looming deadline that grew nearer and more ominous.

It was two days before Christmas, and Jeff Tracy was worried. Virgil had been quiet, withdrawn and anxious for nearly a week and for the life of him, Jeff couldn’t figure out why. If he had to make a guess, he would say that the exchanging of Christmas gift with the Callen girl hadn’t gone well, but Virgil had denied it when asked. Although it hadn’t escaped either Jeff or Sally’s notice that there didn’t appear to have been a reciprocal gift.

Both Jeff and his mother had been surprised when Virgil had announced that he had a date with the girl – she wasn’t in his usual circle of friends, and didn’t appear to have anything in common with Virgil; but now that surprise was becoming a vague concern.

Sighing, Jeff pushed his concerns aside. Failed romances were practically a right of adolescence, and at least Virgil wasn’t indulging in the drama that had accompanied some of Scott’s early forays into the world of romance.

He turned his attention back to what he was supposed to be doing: wrapping Christmas gifts. His main gifts had already been wrapped and slid safely under the Christmas tree, protected from Gordon and Alan’s inquisitive fingers by the barrier of the booby-trapped old playpen. But, it had almost become tradition for Jeff to make last-minute purchases – that little something that always seemed perfect when he saw them – that could be wrapped and used to sate the boys exuberance Christmas morning before everyone was ready to face the day.

He pulled the small bag towards him, and pulled out the box it contained. He had been surprised to find a jewellers catalogue open on the kitchen table, a scribbled circle highlighting a diamond and titanium tennis bracelet. The only person who could have done it was his mother, and it was unlike her to show a particular interest in jewellery, but he had a vague memory of her speaking of her grandmother and a bracelet the woman had always worn. It had gone to a cousin, as Jeff recalled, claimed by her uncle as his right as the oldest son to bestow it upon his daughters. Maybe the bracelet reminded her of her grandmothers? The two thousand dollar price tag was expensive, but he could afford it now, and it was Christmas.

He had only managed to cut down the wrapping paper and find where the tape and ribbon had disappeared to when there was a knock on the door. Desperately flipping his comforter over the mess on his bed, Jeff called out, “Who’s there?”

“Jeff, you’ve got a phone call. Simon Callen. He says it’s very urgent he speaks to you – privately.”

His heart sinking, Jeff went to the door and, carefully blocking his mother’s view of the bed, slid outside, firmly closing the door behind him. His mother was twisting her hands anxiously in the corridor. Jeff understood her anxiety. Simon Callen, the father of Virgil’s girlfriend, making an urgent and private phone call from his holiday; what had Virgil been up to?

“I’ve transferred the call to your study, and I’ll keep the boys away from the main phone,” Sally told him.

“Thanks, Mom,” he caught and squeezed her hand. “I’ll find out what all this is about, and I’ll let you know.”

Hurrying to his study, Jeff again secured the door behind him, and slid into his chair, as he accepted the waiting call. The video screen flared to live and he was surprised to see a devastated looking Simon Callen. All sorts of scenarios filled his mind. “Simon, what…?”

“Jeff, I’m sorry to bother you, but I thought this needed to be dealt with immediately.”

Jeff’s heart sank. Oh, god, what?

“Do you know what Virgil’s gift to Candice was?”

Jeff blinked. That was not what he expected from Simon’s greeting. “Um, a painting. I think it was a portrait of Candice?”

Simon bit his lip. “So he hadn’t brought anything else, some jewellery?”

A niggling thought began to worry at Jeff’s mind. “Not that I know of. Virgil always gifts things he’s made – paintings, sculpture or music he’s written.”

Simon nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “Jeff, Mary and I overheard Candice talking to a cousin today, she was saying how Virgil was going to ‘fix up’ his screw up with the present he’d given her, that he’d tried to ‘cheap out’ on her by trying get out of giving her some bracelet she’d indicated to him she wanted, and she knew he’d brought.”

Everything suddenly clicked into place. Jeff swallowed. “I can promise you that Virgil didn’t buy the bracelet. He probably didn’t even know he was supposed to buy it. I found a catalogue with a bracelet indicated. I thought it was my mother highlighting something she liked. I brought the bracelet.” Jeff smiled thinly. “Virgil wouldn’t have been able to afford it, at any rate.”

Simon sagged with relief. “I’ve told Candice that she’s not going to be seeing any boys, and especially not Virgil. From what we’ve gotten out of my niece, Candice has been pulling this kind of racket for a while. She set her sights on Virgil because she’s decided that you’re rich, and he’ll pay to be seen with her.” His lips tightened. “I’ll be contacting the school, to ensure that they know to keep an eye on her, and try to get some information about other boys she might have been … pursuing.”

Jeff nodded. It would be humiliating for Simon and Mary. They were good people, and certainly wouldn’t have raised Candice to be like that. “I’m sorry, Simon. I appreciate how hard this must be for you. I’ll talk to Virgil, in the meantime. I’ll do everything I can to help you through this, Simon. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if any of my boys had done something similar.”

Simon smiled sadly. “You’re a good friend, Jeff. I just wish…”

Jeff nodded. “I you and me both.” He offered a smile of his own. “I know it’s going to be awkward for you, but I hope you have a good Christmas.”

Simon sighed. “It’ll be hard, but we’ll try, Jeff. The same to you and your family. And I’ll be in touch.”

As the videophone went dead in front of him, Jeff sighed. Oh god. Now wonder Virgil had been moping. His thoughts went to the catalogue and bracelet in his room. Two thousand dollars. How did the girl think Virgil would be able to afford that?

Jeff had a moment of doubt. He hadn’t doubted until now that his mother had highlighted the bracelet. Could he be wrong about the girl?

Jeff left his office, slid into his room and gathered up the catalogue and jewellers box. Bundling them into a jumper he pulled off the chair Lucy had always insisted she needed in the bedroom, and Jeff had never had the heart to remove permanently, Jeff went in search of his mother.

“Jeff, what did he have to say?” He indicated the kitchen and shut the door after her before turning to face her.

Jeff pulled out the catalogue. “Mom, did you mark this out?” he handed her the paper, cover folded back to show the advertisement for the bracelet.

She took the catalogue, glanced at the page and shook her head. “No, wh-” her eyes went wide in shock. “She didn’t?”

“Apparently she did,” Jeff said grimly. “Simon and Mary overheard her bragging about it to a cousin.”

Her eyes turned to the door. “That poor boy. No wonder he’s been so quiet.”

Jeff nodded. “I’m going to have to talk to him. Can you keep the others away from my study? I know it has the best soundproofing, but you know what they’re like.”

Sally nodded. “You take care of Virgil. I’ll sort out the rest of them, Jeff.”

A grin. “Don’t be too harsh on them, Mom.”

She snorted, and pushed him gently towards the door, tucking the catalogue into his grip. Jeff took the hint and went to the lounge, where the boys were all playing a board game, Virgil only giving it half his concentration.

“Sorry to interrupt, boys, but I need to talk to Virgil.” The five of them looked up, Virgil’s expression stricken, as the others were surprised.

Jeff held out an arm to his son, and Virgil reluctantly stood up and shuffled towards his father. Jeff swept his arm around his sons shoulders and started guiding him towards the study. Behind him, Jeff could hear Gordon snickering, “Well, SOMEONE just made the naughty list…” before John and Scott shushed him, and his Mom pounced, chivvying the boys to some chore she suddenly desperately needed completed.

Jeff directed Virgil to a chair in his study as he shut the door behind them, and dragged his office chair around to face his dejected son. “I’ve just had a call from Simon Callen,” he began cautiously.

All the colour drained from Virgil’s face. “Wh...what did he want?” he asked, his voice unusually high.

Jeff pulled out the catalogue and handed it to Virgil. “Have you seen this?” he asked. Virgil took the catalogue frowned and shook his head. Then something caught his attention, and he – almost impossibly – paled even further, his lips moving inaudibly. Jeff lipread his sons words ‘Two thousand’.

“I thought your grandmother had highlighted the bracelet,” he said. Pulling out the box and offering it, open, to his son.

In shock, Virgil accepted it, and considered the bracelet. “It’s pretty, but it’s not really Grandma’s style,” he finally managed. “She’d probably prefer a hinged circle type. Um, kind of like a tighter fitting gypsy bracelet?”

Jeff considered, and took the box back, examining the bracelet again. “You’re probably right on that,” he conceded. “I thought it maybe reminded her of a bracelet her grandmother had had, that went to a cousin.”

Virgil gave a silent ‘oh’ in response. They remained silent as Jeff closed the box, and again re-wrapped it and the catalogue in the jumper which he sat on the desk. Jeff sighed. “Did she ask you for other presents?” Jeff asked gently.

Virgil shook his head. “No.” He paused. “I didn’t know she had ‘asked’ for the bracelet until I gave her her gift.”

Jeff nodded. “How did that go, Virgil? Honestly, this time.”

He was alarmed when Virgil’s eyes immediately filled with tears. It took a moment before Virgil managed to say, “At first she made out like she liked it. But then she was … waiting. Like she expected something more, you know?” Jeff nodded. “Then she said … she called the painting tacky, and said that it was childish giving a painting I’d painted.” Virgil stopped, taking several deep breaths before he continued. “She said she knew I’d brought when she’d wanted, and I had one chance to ‘fix it’. I had to give her her ‘real present’ at school in front of everyone. And they had to know how ‘valuable’ she is.”

Virgil bit his lip, for a long moment, then looked up at his father, his eyes threatening to overfill with tears. “Dad,” he whispered, “am I childish and cheap giving people presents that I made?”

Jeff swallowed the lump in his throat, and ignored the burning in his own eyes. “No, Virgil,” he managed, ignoring how his own voice caught, in his throat. “We all, that is your brothers, Grandmother and myself, all know how much time and effort you put into your gifts. It’s the thought you put into what you make, considering what people like, and how best create it.” Jeff smiled wryly, “Between you and me, it can be something of a relief to know that I’m guaranteed one present that isn’t more pairs of socks or underwear, you know?”

Virgil stared at him, and suddenly, uncharacteristically, threw himself at his father, wrapping his arms around him and burrowing his face into his chest. Jeff quickly felt the shuddering breaths and developing damp patch on his shirt front, and his heart broke a little more. Gently rocking his son as though he were several years younger than his actual age, he began stroking the back of his head, quietly waiting out Virgil’s emotions.

It was a long while, but finally Virgil’s breathing settled and sniffing embarrassedly, he pulled back. Jeff let him go a little way, but kept his hold. He examined Virgil’s face carefully, before offering his handkerchief. “Feel better?” he asked as Virgil scrubbed at his face.

Virgil nodded. “I’d been all twisted up, I didn’t know what to do.” He pulled back again, searching for his seat, and Jeff let him go. “I didn’t know what Candice thought I’d brought, and I just felt sick thinking that everyone might think the same as she did…” His breath hitched again. “I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

Jeff looked at him in askance. “Candice is one of the ‘it girls’, and everyone says she’s the prettiest girl at school. You don’t say ‘no’ to her. Not if you want to survive at school.”

Jeff’s eyebrows rose. “So you dating her…”

Virgil shrugged. “She asked me. Maybe one of the footballers, or someone like that might get to turn her down, but me?” Virgil shook his head. “It’d have been like declaring war on the popular kids, Dad.” Virgil looked down, embarrassed. “And, I think, I liked that she asked me.” He coloured. “But I didn’t really like her, you know?” Jeff nodded. “We had nothing in common, but she kept asking me out again, and telling people I was her boyfriend, and I kinda … never had a chance to say otherwise.”

Jeff nodded again. “Well, you won’t have to tell her ‘no’,” he offered. “Her parents are banning her from seeing any boys, and they’re going to explain to the school what’s happened. I think they’re planning on following up with other boys she’s done the same thing to. Make her pay them back for the, uh, ‘gifts’ she’s asked for.”

Virgil offered a tight smile. “That might be a long list.” Then his shoulder’s sagged. “I’ve been an idiot, falling for this, haven’t I?” he asked despondently.

Jeff reached over to lift his face up with gentle pressure under his chin. “No, Virgil,” he said, firmly and maintaining eye contact. “You’ve been young. You’ve been inexperienced. You’ve been trusting. And you’re not the only one. There’s no shame in what you’ve done. Understand me?” He waited for an affirmative response. “And the next time you come across a woman like her, you’ll be older and wise for this experience.”

Virgil stared at his father. “You really think there will be more like her?”

Jeff sighed. “Yes, son. I’m afraid there will be. The business is starting to move ahead, and we’re … better off than most in town.” He shrugged. “Somewhere like New York, nobody would notice us.” He smiled. “Well, you’ll have to watch out when art galleries and music studios start to recognise your talent. But the rest of us?” Jeff shrugged again.

Virgil managed a smile. “Until the business gets even better again.”

Jeff chuckled. “I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, son, but I think you’re being a bit fanciful there. I might manage big in Topeka, maybe even Wichita, but even I don’t think an ex-astronaut will have the nous to pull it off world wide.”

“I guess we’ll see, then,” Virgil said.

“I guess we will,” Jeff agreed. “And speaking of seeing, will I be seeing another round of socks and underwear Christmas morning?”

Virgil grinned, a bit of his customary mischief back in his face. “I guess we’ll see,” he repeated.

Jeff chuckled. “I guess we will at that,” he agreed. “Now, get going. Go save your brothers from your Grandma, and have some fun.”

Virgil shot to his feet, “Yes, sir,” he offered a poorly executed salute before scurrying the door.

Jeff heard his feet thundering down the corridor. “Gordon, you had better not have messed with my pieces!” He chuckled at the shouted admonition from his mother for Virgil to walk, competing with Gordon’s protections of innocence and Scott’s assurance he had prevented all attempts to cheat.

Picking up the sweater, Jeff headed back to his bedroom. He had some gifts to wrap, and he had to decide what to do with the bracelet. Virgil was right, it wasn’t really his mother’s style.

Jeff smiled, daydreaming a little. If Virgil was correct, he would have to get used to making such high-stakes decisions...

[lolahasmoxie]

Christmas Blues - E.M.

It's been awhile since I've written anything. Lucky you; I'm in my feels today so enjoy.

TW: GRIEF (loss of parent)

It was 11:15pm on Christmas Eve.

You'd spent the evening with your dad and brother. This was your 4th Christmas without your mom, and for some reason, this year really hurt. You'd faked a smile the whole evening and the minute you'd gotten home you'd changed into sweats and poured yourself a large boozy glass of eggnog while you sat and watched Die Hard.

Eddie was with his Uncle. Wayne was leaving tomorrow for an extended ice fishing trip with his friends from the plant in Wisconsin, so he and Eddie had spent the day together. He knew something was up with you before he left, but you'd kissed his cheek and sent him on his way.

You weren't sure if he would come home; you'd told him that if he had a beer or two, you didn't want him driving. You'd just see him in the morning to open your presents. Now you were here, alone, your cat Lemmy sleeping on your lap.

Once Die Hard finished you decided to put on White Christmas. Your mom loved that movie; you watched it with her every year. You knew you should have changed it but you just sighed and let the movie play. You'd wrapped yourself in your grief this season; you used her favorite decorations and made all her holiday recipes. Now you were watching her favorite movie. It was after 1am when the movie was near the end, and as the cast sang the titular holiday song, you felt warm tears stream down your cheeks.

You turned when you heard the key turn in the door. A moment later your metalhead bounded inside, shaking a fresh dusting of snow off his shoulders and hair.

"Hey baby, didn't expect you to still be up. Whatcha watching?"

He pauses when he sees your tear-stained cheeks and he knows; of course he does. He says nothing as he walks over to you. He picks up Lemmy first, the tuxedo cat chirping at his father for disturbing his slumber as Eddie places him on the sofa. Then he picks you up, setting you in his lap as he holds you tight. You wrap your arms around his neck and the floodgates open. You let out your grief and sadness while Eddie simply holds you.

"It's okay baby, let it out. Don't keep that shit bottled up. You've been off for days but I didn't wanna push, wanted you to come to me when you were ready."

"It's been so hard this year," you say in a shaky teary voice. "It feels just like that first Christmas without her."

"Grief's a disrespectful bitch like that," Eddie says with a warm grin. "Some years will be ok, others are gonna suck. But you don't have to do it alone, sweetheart, promise."

Eddie holds you a bit longer until your tears are gone. It's late now, but you're not quite ready for sleep. Eddie mulls over what to do when an idea strikes him. He tells you to put on your boots, winter jacket, and gloves.

"We're going somewhere?"

"We're gonna do something Wayne used to do for me when those first Christmases without my mom were really bad. Now bundle up, buttercup."

You do as he asks, and while you get dressed Eddie puts hot chocolate into two travel mugs. Once you're bundled up to his liking he guides you outside and you both climb into his van. It's lightly snowing, not too dangerous to drive at this late hour. He guides the van towards town. Before you can ask where you're going, Eddie points out the window and you can't help but smile at the sight.

He's taking you to look at Christmas lights. Even at this late hour, most of Hawkins's Christmas lights are still on. It feels otherworldly as you drive down the empty streets. It's as if you two are the only people in the world as you ooh and ahh at the displays. Eddie even turns on Christmas music to listen to while you drive through the town drinking your hot chocolates.

Eddie watches you more than the lights. He relaxes as he sees you point out certain houses, as you sing along to certain songs on the radio. Finally, when your hot chocolates are finished and you feel your eyes get heavy, Eddie drives you both home.

Once inside Eddie locks up while you turn off all the lights. Lemmy stretches on the sofa before hopping down and heading to the bedroom, no doubt to sleep in his spot at the foot of your bed. Eddie is about to pass you in the hallway when you stop him by putting a hand on his bicep.

"Thank you for tonight, Eddie. You have no idea how much that meant to me."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to thank me for that. I do it because I love you and I don't like seeing you sad. I'll take you on a hundred late-night rides if it will put a smile on your pretty face."

"Still, I know it's late but maybe I can thank you before we go to bed?" You step closer to him, hands on his biceps as you bat your lashes at him hoping he'll get the message. He pulls you close by your hips and you can feel that he's on board with your plan.

"Go hop into bed, I'll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail." You lean up and kiss his cheek before going to slip into your bed. Eddie watches your every step as you go.

He lets out a content sigh, happy that tomorrow you'll have the whole day to yourselves with nowhere to go. He smiles as he thinks about one particular present he got you, the ring box that's safely tucked away in his underwear drawer. As he heads to the bedroom to join you in bed he thinks about his only Christmas wish this year, the one that will make him the luckiest man on the planet so long as you say yes.

[evans23]

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 5 - Open Doors

Pairing : Sinclair Bryant x OC (Contessina)

Summary : Five Christmases during which Sinclair realises that sometimes, closing one door opens a thousand others.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Mention of incest.

A/N : Puppy boy is back !

Also on AO3

December 24, 2020

Sinclair, for the first time in his 39 years of existence, did not feel like celebrating Christmas. His divorce had been finalized at the very end of November. A difficult divorce, not so much because of his ex-wife who had too much to reproach herself for to really argue about silver vases and spoons, but for the nature of the betrayal.

Sinclair wasn't in the mood to celebrate, but William, his friend and the judge who had finalized his divorce had insisted, telling him that he had been moping for a year now and that it was high time to move on. Or at least try. And it was not like Sinclair not to try.

"Sinclair, my friend, life is a succession of rooms and in each room, there are people who mark your life for better or for worse. Natalie was not a good person and I am sorry for what she did to you, but it is time for you to close this door and open a new one," William had wisely said.

And Sinclair had given in. Not really because he had been convinced by the philosophy of doors and rooms, but because he did not really want to be alone for Christmas, and deep down, he knew that his friend was right. It was time to move on, to turn the page, to close the door. His parents were on a trip to Sardinia and all his friends and colleagues had family plans when he had to mourn the family he would never have.

Family... a word that left a bitter taste in Sinclair's mouth, he who had believed he had found his soul mate in Natalie and the mother of his children. Now he wasn't so sure he'd ever have the chance to have children. He wasn't sure he'd ever fall in love again.

Sinclair shook his head as if to shake off all the bad memories. He was in front of William's house, a bottle of his best champagne in his hand. Sinclair had learned at a young age from his own father that one should never arrive empty-handed. His friend's sumptuous house, which was more of a small manor than a house, had been sumptuously decorated by his wife while the buffet - prepared by professionals - already had his mouth watering in anticipation.

Sinclair rang the bell and William greeted him with reserved kindness.

"You've come ! That's good ! Come in, hurry up."

"For your table," Sinclair said, handing him the bottle.

"A Dom Pérignon ! You shouldn't have," William said, taking the bottle with sparkling eyes.

Sinclair then lingered by the fireplace. It was not his habit, he usually so outgoing, ready to become friends with everyone, he who always had something to say found himself petrified. Natalie had left much more of a mark on his soul than he himself would have believed.

That's when he saw her. Alone in a corner, she seemed to want to disappear, like him. She didn't seem to be from the same world as Richard, or even Sinclair. Probably a friend of his wife who was the headmistress of a private school for girls in central London. Intrigued, Sinclair approached to greet her. She was pretty in her purple dress, a dress he was sure to have seen on a famous singer but he couldn't remember her name.

"Are you all right?" he asked kindly.

She just nodded with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. But beneath her apparent coldness, Sinclair could see a gentleness and a light that was just waiting to be revealed.

"My name is Sinclair. Sinclair Bryant," he introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you, Sinclair, I'm Contessina," she replied softly.

"It's a very pretty name," Sinclair said sincerely, "not very English," he added with a twinkle of curiosity in his eye.

"My father is Italian," she replied before quickly adding that her mother was English, as if having mixed ancestry was a fault.

Sinclair told her about a trip he had taken to Rome. She admitted, shyly, that she had never had the opportunity to set foot in Italy. Sinclair sensed her unease, so he tried not to brag too much about his travels across Europe. Contessina and he must have had very different childhoods. Sinclair had grown up with a father who had one foot in business and the other in politics and a mother who was a lawyer who had put her career on hold to take care of him after his birth, a sacrifice she had never regretted because in her opinion, her son was her greatest achievement.

"Are you friends with William or his wife?" Sinclair asked casually.

"His wife. I work for her. I teach English and drama."

"Oh ! Are you acting in theatre ?" Sinclair asked with renewed enthusiasm.

Contessina seemed as enthusiastic as Sinclair to talk about one of her passions. And the conversation continued with Sinclair's incessant questions that didn't seem to bother her in the least.

interlocutor, though she asked few in return.

He knew before the meal that she had spent two years at drama school before having to drop out when her parents could no longer afford to pay for her tuition. She had failed to get a scholarship, so she had worked a series of unfulfilling jobs before settling on teaching. It had not been her dream career, at least not when she was a teenager, but she had eventually found a certain comfort in it that had erased her past failures. She lived alone in London, her father having moved to Blairgowrie after her mother died to be closer to his brother, and Sinclair could tell that she must not have made friends easily. She was reserved, though not without wit and intelligence. Talking to her was a treat. She could talk about anything and was not ashamed to admit when she did not know something. But most of all, she was interested in what he was saying and that was a change for Sinclair.

During the meal, he made sure to sit next to her. They continued to talk about everything and nothing and for the first time in a long time, the weight in Sinclair's chest had gone away. He wasn't thinking about the events of almost two years ago. There was no more Natalie, Richard, betrayal in his parents' bed, under his own roof, before his eyes and the eyes of the housekeeper.

Shortly before midnight, the two were sipping a glass of Sinclair's champagne. She had finally dared to ask Sinclair what he did for a living and, although she admitted that she didn't understand much about his job, she listened to him talk passionately about what he did and his clients... who sometimes had unconventional habits.

Midnight finally struck, Christmas arrived and Sinclair felt that in a few days, the new year would finally bring him new peace.

"Merry Christmas, Sinclair," she said with her enigmatic smirk.

"Merry Christmas, Contessina."

A half hour later, much to Sinclair's dismay, she was leaving the party.

"I can give you a ride if you want ?" he offered.

"No, it's not necessary, I don't live far away."

Sinclair doubted it. She was in one of the most expensive neighbourhood in the city, but he didn't insist.

"I was glad to have you as my companion for the evening," she added as she put on her coat and scarf.

"Me too !" Sinclair exclaimed with a big smile, "I didn't notice the time go by."

He watched her go down the steps when suddenly she turned around.

"Sinclair ?"

"Yes ?"

"You should smile more often. It suits you."

And without adding anything else, she disappeared into the night, leaving those simple words etched in Sinclair's mind forever.

He had felt something new but he had preferred not to push it further. He could have asked William to find his phone number, to get everything she knew about Contessina from his wife, but he didn't. He wasn't ready to be hurt again.

However, fate seemed to want to put Contessina in his path. Three months later, Sinclair saw her again at a market. She was buying small perfumes to offer to her students for Easter which would soon arrive and, as if she were a magnet that attracted him, Sinclair had not been able to turn around to avoid her. He had invited her to share lunch with him, then dinner and after that, there had been other dinners, evenings at the movies, galas for his work and then a whole weekend at his place, then a whole week. And slowly but surely, Contessina had made her way into his heart just as Sinclair had made his way into the young woman's.

December 24, 2021

Over the months, the relationship between Sinclair and Contessina had evolved, had built itself, without rushing, with caution, with respect, with trust. There wasn't a day when the two did not see each other and tonight, Sinclair wanted to take an important step.

It was the first Christmas that Sinclair had had at his place since his divorce and he had decided to do things simply. Contessina was his only guest. He had cooked a simple, unpretentious meal and bought a dessert from his favourite bakery, a dessert without fruit since Contessina had once told him that a dessert with fruit wasn't a real dessert.

The table was elegant. Sinclair had set a white and gold tablecloth on which he had placed candles and a few flowers prettily arranged in the vases he had inherited from his grandmother. In the background, he had put on Christmas carols, as cliché as they come.

"It's beautiful, Sinclair," Contessina said as she discovered the dining room.

Near the door that led to the veranda, the large fir tree dominated, splendid with its multi-coloured light garland and its glass balls.

"Is this a real tree ?" she asked, gently touching the needles.

"Yes. My father didn't like artificial trees. We always had real trees at my house."

"It's funny, my mother didn't like real trees so we always had a synthetic one. A faded green tree. But it didn't take away from the warmth of the party."

It was the first time she wasn't spending Christmas with her dad, but she knew he was fine, doing it with his brother and his family and most important : he was happy that his daughter seemed to have found a good man. He had met Sinclair thrice and he have had a very good impression of the man. 

Sinclair smiled at her, gently kissing her temple. Contessina brought a simplicity to his life that he had never known. She didn't seek luxury, she wasn't after her money and she liked simple things. This wasn't really the case for Sinclair who had grown up with money and firmly believed in spending it. He liked beautiful things and collecting expensive objects, but this contrast between them brought a certain balance to his life, a balance that did him good.

"I hope you like it. I spent hours in the kitchen," Sinclair said as he arranged the dishes on the table.

Contessina hadn't imagined that Sinclair was the cooking type, and she was pleasantly surprised, even touched by the attention he had put into making everything perfect for their first Christmas just the two of them.

A little before midnight, Sinclair decreed that it was time to open the presents, as excited as a child, which made Contessina laugh with a crystal-clear laugh that, after a year, still made Sinclair shiver.

"Mine first," she said as she handed him a large package that weighed quite a bit in his small hands.

Sinclair unwrapped it without ceremony and his eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and joy.

"Where did you get that ?" he asked incredulously.

"One of my colleagues knows someone who knows someone who works for an antique dealer."

Sinclair shook his head in disbelief.

"Are you happy ?" she asked shyly.

"Am I happy ? Contessina, you managed to find that impossible to find book of poems ! I didn't even think you would remember it !"

Sinclair kissed her tenderly and a slight red colour rose on the young woman's cheeks. Of course she had remembered what he had told her. She was like that, reserved, speaking little although she had many interesting things to say, but she always remembered the important things. Like him, except that Sinclair talked to her all the time.

"Mine now," he said, handing her a very small box.

She unpacked it carefully to find a key. She looked up at him questioningly, one eyebrow raised.

"This is the key to here," Sinclair explained. "All this coming and going... it's a bit redundant, isn't it? And you're here more often than you're in your shared apartment. Stop spending your money to live in this chicken coop and move in with me."

She looked at him, unsure of what to say, and Sinclair felt panic rising in him. Had he wanted to move too fast ?

"Are you serious ?" she finally asked, "I thought you weren't ready," she added.

"I thought so too, but that was before. Contessina, I want to move on. It's time for me to open a new door, to enter a new room, and I want to be in this room with you. I want you to be the one to mark my life for the better."

Contessina squeezed the key between her fingers, nodding briskly, her eyes slightly moist.

"Is that a yes ?"

"That's a yes," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him.

"This is the most enjoyable Christmas I've ever had," Sinclair said, resting his forehead against Contessina's.

December 24, 2022

It had been almost a year since Contessina had moved in with Sinclair. They had gotten to know each other better, to live together, to discover and accommodate each other's little flaws. They had had their first fight, their second, their third, but they had never gone to bed angry. That was Contessina's rule: he always had to settle their differences before he went to sleep.

Sinclair's rule was that he should never hide anything from each other. He wanted honesty, even if it hurt. She shouldn't hide anything from him, neither her sorrows, nor her torments, nor what annoyed her about him and above all, above all, if one day she fell in love with someone else, she had to tell him. She should never make fun of him.

Sinclair had insisted so much on this last point that Contessina had timidly asked him if he had been betrayed in the past. Sinclair had hesitated, but in the end, he had told her everything. He owed her that much, after all if he demanded total honesty from her, he had to be so with her in return. Contessina couldn't hold back her grimace of disgust when Sinclair had told her that Natalie had slept with her own brother, in the sheets of her parents' bed.

"When you say her brother... you mean her half-brother, right ? Not a real brother right ? They don't really have blood in common," Contessina had asked.

"No, her real blood brother by blood," Sinclair had coldly answered.

It had made her feel sick. How could this woman she didn't know but never wanted to meet, firstly betray a man like Sinclair who would have served her the moon on a silver platter if she had asked for it, and secondly with her own brother ? 

And to top it all off, she had the nerve to get fucked like the female dog she was in Sinclair's parents' bed.

But this revelation had helped Contessina to better understand Sinclair, to better understand some of his behaviours and to definitively tolerate his possessiveness and his slight jealousy that had annoyed her a little at first.

Sinclair felt that he didn't really have any reason to doubt her. He didn't imagine her as the type to sleep with another and she was an only child. But he had wounds that didn't would never truly heal and he couldn't put to sleep that primal instinct that had awakened in him when he realized he was in love with her. That instinct that pushed him to protect what was his, in this case her. He loved her, deeply. She was his second chance and he couldn't bear to have his happiness taken away from him again. She was his redemption.

That Christmas, he was spending it at Sinclair's parents' house. It wasn't the first time he'd taken her there, but it was the first time she'd celebrate Christmas with them. He'd been reassured when his mother had told him one evening on the phone that she adored her. She was kind, polite, well-mannered and much more cultured than "the other one".

Of course, Sinclair's parents didn't know the whole story, he had been too ashamed to tell them that apparently he was such a poor husband that his wife had needed to find comfort in sticking his brother's penis in her sheath, but when he had told them of their divorce, he had been surprised to see the relief of his parents who had finally admitted to him that they had never loved him.

"She wasn't the one for you," his mother had whispered to him, "but she, Contessina... she can hold a conversation with you. She's interested in what interests you even if at first she thought she wouldn't like it. She reads your books, she watches the movies you like... and you do the same... She's the one, my boy."

His mother's approval that night had definitively erased any doubts he had been able to harbour. And as midnight struck and everyone exchanged enthusiastic "Merry Christmas," Sinclair watched Contessina get a kiss on the cheek from her slightly tipsy father and smiled. He had done well three years ago to agree to try to close the door to his past and open a new one a crack. He had done so shyly, but that half-open door that had pushed him to accept William's invitation had introduced him to Contessina. She was in the right room at the right time and his life had changed.

December 24, 2023

Sinclair and Contessina had flown to Italy five days earlier. He had promised to show her Rome and he had kept his word. He had taken him to all the tourist spots, from the Colosseum to the Vatican, had made him eat pizza at what he thought was the best pizzeria in the city, and had convinced him to eat "the best ice cream in the whole world" despite the bitter winter cold.

On this Christmas Eve, they were sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant that Sinclair had booked for the privacy it offered. In their alcove, away from prying eyes, they shared different varieties of pasta, grilled meats, and tasty vegetables.

"I'm so happy to be here with you," Sinclair told him as he poured him a glass of champagne.

"And I'm so grateful that you introduced me to Italy," she said, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"We'll see many other places, I promise. How about Paris for the spring ? And maybe Florence for the summer ? You wanted to see where Da Vinci had lived, right ?"

"Sinclair ! You spoil me too much," Contessina replied, a slight pinkness on her cheeks.

"Nothing is too much for you," Sinclair replied firmly.

And he meant it. She brought him a happiness, a joy that he thought he would never find again. He had known many people since his childhood. Each one in different rooms, each one who had marked him, hurt him, shaped him, broken him sometimes too. He had had to close many doors, open others, sometimes open windows when the doors refused to open, but he felt an endless gratitude for the door that had opened on this woman in front of him who looked at him as if he were the most wonderful person in the world.

Dessert arrived. A tiramisu, Contessina's favourite dessert, and fresh fruit. But before she could sink her fork into what she called the dessert of the Gods, Sinclair grabbed both of her hands in one of his.

Contessina raised her green eyes to Sinclair's, eyes in which he could read her soul and in his soul, the sincerity of the love she had for him. This was the moment, he was sure of it. The dim light of the restaurant reflected on his curved nose. His heart was beating wildly.

"Contessina, meeting you is the best thing that could have happened to me. I didn't think I'd get a second chance, but you are my second chance. And I just regret not having had the patience to wait longer for you to be my one and only chance."

He let go of her hands to take a small velvet box from the inside pocket of his jacket. Contessina briefly closed her eyes, sensing what was coming.

"Contessina," Sinclair began as he gently opened the box, "will you marry me ?"

The young woman's eyes immediately filled with tears she had been holding back. Before her was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. A sapphire surrounded by small diamonds set in a gold band.

"Contessina ?" Sinclair asked with emotion as she was slow to answer.

"Oh, Sinclair ! Yes ! Yes! A thousand times yes !"

Sinclair took her left hand and placed the ring on her ring finger, his own eyes misting with tears.

"I promise to be the best of husbands," Sinclair said as he kissed each of her fingers.

"And I promise to be the best of wives, Sinclair."

And seven months later, in a small, discreet church in Paddington, Sinclair and Contessina said yes to each other for better or for worse, even if Sinclair had no doubt that he would only get the best since he had already had the worst.

December 24, 2024

In his arms, Contessina had fallen asleep, still exhausted from the last few frightening days she had spent. Sinclair did not blame her, he knew that although she hid her weaknesses, and although he didn't doubt her strength, she still had to heal. Her body had been tested, more than it should have been. She had lost a lot of blood, but fortunately, the doctors had managed to stabilize her and had assured Sinclair that she would recover provided she stayed warm, hydrated and fed properly to regain her strength, and above all, had plenty of rest.

It had been their little secret for a long time. As long as she could hide it. On the wedding day, no one had noticed anything except Sinclair who could discern the subtle changes in the body of the woman he loved most in the world. He and apparently the father of his brand new wife, but he couldn't blame the old man for knowing his daughter so well.

When she had announced to him one evening in April that he was going to be a father, Sinclair, for the first time, had been at a loss for words, which had made the young woman burst out laughing.

"You fill me with joy," he had finally said, taking her in his arms and squeezing her with all his strength as if he was afraid she might disappear.

The pregnancy had not been easy. Contessina had nothing of the fulfilled mother-to-be. She threw up all the time, her back, legs and feet hurt all day long and at six months pregnant, she had to stop working when her placenta had slightly detached, causing bleeding that had nearly made Sinclair's heart stop.

But there had also been good times. The baby's first kicks as Sinclair, his head resting on his wife's belly, read him a Dickens story. His moments when his wife's eyes shone with an indefinable sparkle that made her even more radiant or how she had shone by his side, head held high despite her discomfort, during an important evening at Sinclair's work celebrating his brand new promotion.

There had also been the decorating of the baby's room, their little quarrel over whether or not he would know the sex of the baby - Sinclair absolutely wanted to have the surprise, and he had won - and all the evenings when, despite his own fatigue, Sinclair had patiently massaged his feet.

The baby had finally arrived two weeks early. Contessina had woken up in the middle of the night and Sinclair had woken up with a start when she had shaken him lightly.

"I think the baby is coming," she had said with tears in her eyes.

Without waiting, Sinclair had helped him put on a pair of jogging pants and one of his own t-shirts, had put him in the car where the maternity bag had already been in the trunk for over a month and had driven him to the hospital. And indeed, their little treasure, eager to celebrate Christmas with his parents, hadrents, were ready to show themselves. The delivery had been long, tiring, stressful, especially when she had started to lose so much blood that the doctors had had to take her to the operating room to perform an emergency cesarean, leaving Sinclair alone in a sanitized hallway that stank of disinfectant and where a rickety Christmas tree had been placed.

He had been afraid that night, afraid of losing his wife and child, of losing his child, or worse still of losing his wife. But the two of them had held on, two true warriors who had won this battle against life and death, who had broken down the door of survival.

And it was with joy that Sinclair had opened the door of their house to this new little being that he had loved at first sight. His flesh and blood. His son.

"Sinclair ?"

Sinclair came back to reality when he heard the voice of Contessina who had just woken up.

"Are you okay, my love ?" he asked her, smoothing a strand of her brown hair behind her ear while she was rubbed her eyes in a very cute way that reminded Sinclair their young baby.

She moaned slightly before sitting up with Sinclair's help, who, without her having to say it, guessed the pain she was still feeling.

"I think I could use a hot chocolate," she whispered, her voice still hoarse with sleep.

Sinclair immediately complied as she sat comfortably on the couch, noticing that Sinclair had just started the first episode of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Her body was still aching. She knew she had to be patient. She had had a lucky escape in that operating room, that room where they had put her into an artificial sleep to get her baby out of her body, to save their lives.

When she woke up, in her hospital room, the two men of her life were there: her father and her husband. Finally, the three men of her life, since in her grandfather's arms was her son.

She would never forget the emotion she felt when Sinclair took the baby back to place him in his arms.

"I waited for you for the name," he had told her while kissing her on the forehead.

She briefly closed her eyes while smiling softly at her memories when Sinclair's voice brought her back to reality.

"My lady's hot chocolate. And mine," he said while placing two steaming cups, full of marshmallows, on the coffee table.

A small whimper was then heard right next to them, in the small crib that was in the living room.

"I'll get him," Sinclair said while standing up.

He came back with their little boy in his arms and sat next to Contessina who rested her head against his shoulder, as well as a protective hand on her son's stomach, which was still sensitive because he's difficult start in life. But with a loving mother and a strong and caring dad, he will be very soon becoming stronger.

"He's beautiful," Sinclair said, looking at him with the same wonder she had when the nurse had come to put him in her arms.

"He looks just like you," Contessina said, kissing Sinclair's cheek.

"Thank you," Sinclair said, his hazel eyes looking into his wife's.

"For telling you that our son looked like you ?"

"No, for coming into my life. For giving me hope in love again. For agreeing to marry me, for never telling me to go away when I talk too much, for genuinely caring about me, for always supporting me and him. Thank you for giving me our child. For giving me a family."

Contessina snuggled closer to him, moved.

"Thank you, Sinclair, for noticing me and for never thinking that I wasn't good enough to be in your life. In your world."

Sinclair rested his chin against the top of Contessina's skull without ever taking his eyes off their child. 

Thomas Sinclair Bryant. 

His son. His heir. The fruit of his love with the true woman of his life, the one with whom he would grow old and face the trials of illness, of old age, but not for a long time. 

Before being old and sick, they still had many things to experience together with their little boy. Many doors to close, many doors to open, rooms to explore. And Sinclair, overwhelmed by happiness, made a promise to himself to help his son get out of the rooms where the people who will be there will have bad intentions, to help him choose his path carefully, but above all, he would teach him that no matter the difficulties of life, the trials and sufferings, he should always have the courage to get up and open a new door.

[moistvonlipwig]

reverse unpopular opinion: xander harris

lol i literally sent someone else this very question today!! great minds think alike...

first of all i must remark upon this boy's fashion sense. it is unparalleled. i unironically love his fits. my 2 faves are his "earshot" fit with the christmas-colored shirt and his "i <3 dirt" shirt which is simply excellent beyond measure.

secondly i will say that, while xander can certainly be a jerk, he also does demonstrate growth and the ability to recognize his behavior and try to do better and make up for his mistakes. in "prophecy girl" he reaches out to angel for help to save buffy even though he's still in the midst of a jealous snit about buffy liking angel more. in "amends" he shows up to help buffy and giles figure out what's wrong with angel because he acknowledges he's been unfair to buffy about angel. in "the prom" he buys cordelia's dress for her (which is not a minor thing given his financial situation) without expectation that she will dance with him or go to prom with him because he is able to overcome his bitterness about her not forgiving him to see that she's a human person who has been hurting for some time. in "seeing red" he acknowledges that buffy had good reasons to not come to him about spike and says that he wants to be a better friend to her. and in s7 he is actually very non-judgmental about spike & her relationship with him, and in general is very supportive. granted in s7 he does not get much screentime lol. but still.

thirdly, although the theme of this ask meme is 'reverse unpopular opinions', i am going to take an unpopular stance and defend the Lie. i certainly understand why people take umbrage with xander, a boy who has repeatedly made sexist comments and shown jealousy over buffy preferring angel to him, deciding that buffy cannot be trusted with the knowledge that willow is trying to return angel's soul to him and telling her that willow simply told her to kick his ass instead. i don't think it's the best or most selfless or most morally correct decision ever, and there is an undertone of sexism and possessiveness in the decision to withhold this information from her.

HOWEVER. if buffy DOES falter in her fight against angel. and i cannot stress this enough. literally the entire world goes to hell. and honestly, as much as we the audience sympathize with buffy's emotional struggle to kill angel, the reality is that she has not yet demonstrated that she can. for all that xander's Lie comes across to many as paternalistic and condescending in its assumption that she would hold back and endanger the world if she knew willow was trying to save him, the truth is that xander has good reasons, based in experience and buffy's past actions, to make this assumption. i also just frankly think that the Lie did not change the outcome of the buffy/angel fight for the worse; it either did not change the outcome at all, or xander was right and it helped buffy cement her decision to fight angel as hard as she could.

now that said i do think the Lie made it much harder for buffy emotionally to kill angel since she was not prepared for his soul to return, and i do think it probably contributed to her leaving town because she felt like her friends were all pro-killing angel and wouldn't sympathize with her. and also just in general it's not super kosher to lie to your friends about what your other friends said! so i'm not saying it was a good or heroic thing. but i do think it's not nearly as bad as people make it out to be. and the writers bringing it up in 7x05 (a full 4 years later) to make xander look worse in an argument where he is 100% correct was pure ridiculous nonsense.

fourthly i think his struggle with his abusive father, and particularly his fear of becoming his abusive father, is very sad and poignant. his dream in "restless" is maybe my favorite; the way he keeps ending up back in his parents' basement no matter where he turns, with his father at the top of the stairs looming threateningly over him, is so. raaaagh. can we get him out of there!!! and i think of all his missteps, his choice in "hell's bells" is by far the most sympathetic, because they do a really fantastic job of showing us just how deep-seated his fear of turning into his father is. (and unfortunately, "entropy" demonstrates that this fear is not entirely baseless.) the fact that he ends up hurting anya so profoundly anyway in his quest to not hurt her is also deeply sad and speaks to the cycle he's trapped in and how difficult it is for him to get out of it.

fifthly he is extremely brave. he challenges angel to his face in "killed by death." he plays a game of chicken with a zombie who wants to blow up the school in "the zeppo" and he wins. he stands in between willow and the statue she needs to destroy the world and fully invites her to kill him, just to show her he's there for her. xander claims in s1 that he "laugh[s] in the face of danger" and then "hide[s] until it goes away" but in actuality he is one of the consistently bravest characters in the buffyverse.

sixthly he did NOT mooch off buffy in s6. that man was EMPLOYED and he did his best to help her, with getting discounts for her through his connections to plumbers, etc. the same cannot be said for everyone that season !

lastly i admire his commitment to being a hater. like in that one episode where he's at the bronze complaining about angel like "angel, angel, angel! why is everyone always talking about that FREAK who i HATE" and then angel shows up behind his shoulder and clearly heard him and xander says, completely confidently, "hey man :)" with absolutely no shame. i love angel but one must respect a committed hater and xander's haterism is unparalleled. just like his love of dirt <3

[xoxoavenger]

When You Are Young

pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

summary: Vintage tee, brand new phone/High heels on cobblestones/When you are young, they assume you know nothing/Sequin smile, black lipstick/Sensual politics/When you are young, they assume you know nothing

word count: 1862

warnings: reader has uncaring family (no physical abuse)

cardigan masterlist

12 Days of Christmas main masterlist

She was sitting nicely at the Country Club, head resting on a closed fist and pretending to be interested in what her father was saying. He wouldn't let her be on her phone, a lesson she learned the hard way when she went to text JJ back and her father had gotten so angry they left immediately and she couldn't have her phone for a week.

She moved her eyes to roam slightly, taking in the beach and the perfect green grass and the workers all in their suits and JJ and the flowers and-

JJ.

Her eyes widened and she sat up slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. He was sneaking around the grass, staying out of sight of all the other kooks who laughed delicately and sipped their wine and didn't have anything better to do.

"I have to go to the bathroom." She said suddenly, ignoring the way her mother glared. She winked at JJ before walking into the building, hoping her parents didn't see him following her but not caring at all if they somehow did.

She was barely in the girls bathroom when JJ attacked her in a hug, kissing her neck and cheek as she giggled and put her arms around his neck. She had seen him only yesterday, but this seemed like forever ago after practically living together the first part of the summer. She told her parents she was staying with Kie while Kiara told her parents she was staying with Y/N, which caused problems when after not coming home for two and a half weeks they finally talked.

Y/N tripped over her heels, JJ holding her to himself around the waist and causing them both to fall a little bit before JJ stopped them. He grabbed the bottom of her dress and lifted it up to palm her ass, picking her up and putting her up on the counter.

"J, this is a public bathroom." She was mostly teasing, because she knows that they'd hear the high stilettos of anyone who wanted to come into the bathroom long before they came in.

"Does it look like I give a shit?" JJ asked, sighing as she hooked her ankles behind his back, pulling him close.

"I have never known you to give a shit." She chuckles, causing him to smile as he leans in and kisses her deeply.

"Why are you here?" She asks, almost regretting it because she knows that they have a minute left.

"I haven't seen you in too long. I want you to come back to the Chateau." He whines, and she frowns.

"I can't believe I let my parents catch me." She lets JJ help her down, fixing her hair.

"It'll be okay." She lets herself look at his face while soaking in the last couple seconds they have.

When she goes back to the table, her parents are talking to different people. She doesn't really know what to do, either not liking or not knowing anyone her age there. She watched JJ run away, trying to evade security, but once he was gone she was alone.

She walks up to her mom, who pays no attention to her. They're talking about some type of magazine and it's contents this month, and it isn't until her mothers friend turned to her that she was finally allowed to participate.

"Y/N doesn't know about these things yet." Her mother laughed, and Y/N felt her face heat. How could her mother embarrass her like this, especially in front of her own friends? And what was she supposed to say to that? She didn't know that much about what was 'in season' or what she was supposed to wear. She put on what her mother told her to when she was forced to attend outings with her family, but otherwise she didn't really care.

This led to her acting out at Halloween, deciding to stray from her mother's theme of Disney. Her family always won the group costume, and this year she knew her siblings would be dressed as princesses and princes - despite their annoyed sighs and the fact that they would change as soon as they left the Country Club - and her mother would be a queen, her father a king. Y/N was staring at the beautiful dress on her bed, mourning it for a moment. She would even be inclined to wear it if her mother's words didn't replay during every moment of her routine during the day. So instead, with the help of Sarah and Kie, Y/N went for the most opposite thing she could find, making sure she could match JJ.

They would be Sandy and Danny. But not from Summer Nights, where she wore a flowy skirt and a blouse. No, she was wearing tight jeans and an even tighter shirt, her black leather jacket popping against them.

Her mother was going to hate her.

"Y/N, we have to go!" Her mother called out, but Y/N knew she couldn't leave with her mother; she'd just be forced to change.

"I'll take my own car! Just gotta finish up!" Timing was perfect, it seemed, as just that moment JJ climbed through her open window, rolling on the floor and standing quickly, a strand of gelled back hair falling into his eyes. She smiled, taking in his matching costume.

"You look," JJ said as the door downstairs slammed shut and everyone headed to the car.

"Not as good as you." Y/N smiled as he pulled her close, hands around her hips and her's around his neck.

"Better." He leaned forward to kiss her, smudging her lipstick slightly while she messed up his hair.

"It would be better if you would just come with me to the Club." They had talked about it before, how she would either be kicked out or leave early to go to the party the Pouges were throwing after.

"I think that'd just speed run the process of you getting kicked out." JJ laughs, kissing her once more. "Now, fix your makeup, and then you can show up in real style - on the back of my bike." Y/N throws her head back in laugher and moves away as JJ releases her, letting her fix her makeup as he fixes his hair over her reflection. A couple minutes later they're on his bike, her arms tight around him. When they get to the Country Club, music is blasting.

"I'll see you soon." JJ tells her with a smirk as she takes the helmet off, smiling at him. No one has noticed her arrival, not yet, but they will. Y/N thinks she can't wait to see what Kiara and Sarah have planned to leave early, or if they'll even show up.

Y/N strides in, heart racing slightly, but she doesn't feel regret. She smiles at the bouncers, who hide their surprise well. She knows they recognize her - they do let her in anyway. It's once she gets pass them that people begin to stare openly. No one drops their drink or gasps, it's not that dramatic, but she knows they all whisper as soon as she walks past.

It's once she gets to her mother that she thinks maybe, just maybe, she should have gone along with the theme during this one part and sneak away later.

The lady her mother is talking catches Y/N's eyes and her smile drops slowly, her eyes widening. When her mother notices, she turns and looks at what could cause her friend to frown so quickly.

Her face goes from shock to anger so quickly that Y/N for a moment lets her smile falter.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Her mother seethed through her teeth as soon as Y/N was close enough to hear.

"I'm Sandy," Y/N starts, trying to stand tall. There was a reason she was doing this. Her mother didn't listen, treated her like a child even though she was well past that. A thought ran through her head, that her family could kick her out. For a moment, before she remembered that her family was only about saving face, she wondered if her mother would do it.

"What happened to the dress that I had made for you?" Y/N feels sorry for only a moment, because that dress was truly the only reason she wouldn't want to go against her mother.

"I'm sorry, I must not have understood." Y/N smiled sweetly, making her mother even more angry. "Too much of a child, apparently."

"Go home and change." Her mother plasters as smile on her face, one that matches Y/N's own.

"Gladly." She struts out, and for a moment she wonders if it would have been better to not show at all, since she's not coming back anyway. But then her eyes meet Kie's, who's dressed as a mermaid, and Sarah's, who's dressed as a space cowboy. The two smirk and follow her out, slipping away from their parents easily.

"Your family is gonna murder you." Kie whispers as they run to her car.

"Worth it." Y/N smiles, her lips stretching and cracking her lipstick.

She has to sleep at the Chateau for a week, with only the extra clothes that others can scrounge for her, waiting for her parents to text her and tell her that they were being dramatic, of course they want their daughter to come home. By the time they do, Y/N doesn't care much, and only comes home to get her things. JJ helps, but her mother comes back before she can leave, just as she's carrying the last box into the car that JJ already started.

"What are you doing?" Her mother admonishes, seeing the Twinkie loaded with all her shit.

"Moving." Y/N shrugs. If her parents don't bother to check up on her a week after leaving her to fend for herself, she doesn't care about their money. She doesn't have to pay rent at the Chateau, she can split groceries, she has her own job. She throws the last box into the Twinkie, closing the door.

"You can't do this to us." There goes her mother, making everything about herself. Y/N doesn't care about saving face, walking into the Twinkie without so much as a wave. She knows she'll still see her siblings; what she doesn't know is if her parents will make her look bad to save themselves or just troubled.

"Bye, mom." She mutters, shutting the door and looking straight forward as JJ turns the radio up to drown out the shouts of her mother. She still hears it, though, the stinging words that started the whole thing.

"You think you know everything? You don't know shit. You may not be in school, but you're still a little girl!"

And maybe her mom is right, in a way. Maybe she doesn't know everything. But as she looks at JJ, one hand on her thigh and the other on the steering wheel, softly singing along to the radio and bobbing his head, she wants to scream that her mother is wrong. She knows that JJ is her love, and that there's nothing they wouldn't do for each other.

She knows JJ.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

my valentine, miss valentine

pairing: jill x ashley (yes, i know i'm the only one on this ship)

cws/tags: lesbians, period-typical homophobia, sex but not super explicit, fluff but also angst

summary: the valentine's day date that i promised to write, like a year ago, that happens after the christmas party in make the yuletide gay

a/n: this is not the end to their story, so don't let yourself be too sad.... however, i will have to finish re5 for the lore to write part three so you'll have to wait like forever (i say to the 3 people reading this lol)

wc: 4.5k

“Leon?” Ashley whispers into her brand new Motorola Razr – the old one was lost during her ‘vacation’ to Spain. As far as the rest of the country knows, there was a mishap during her trip, no bioweapons or cults involved.

It’s midnight, her parents are asleep across a long hallway, snoring, unaware of her phone call to her knight in shining armor turned friend and greatest confidant. 

“Mm-hmm,” Leon mumbles, barely awake. 

He keeps his phone on his nightstand, beside his gun, just in case of emergencies. Ashley knows this because he told her. He told her to call if she needed anything. He probably should’ve specified that he really would rather she stick to daylight hours for non-emergency calls. 

“I need to ask you for a favor.”

“What is it?”

“I’m going to tell my dad that we’re going out for Valentine’s Day. If he says anything to you about it, just go with it.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re not going anywhere. It’s a… lie.” 

Ashley doesn’t like the word ‘lie’. It’s something she’s been told not to do since she was a child. She’s 21 now, and has yet to be told that sometimes lying is justified. 

“I know that, Ash. I meant, where does he think we’re going? What’s the story?”

She can’t tell if he’s irritated or not, but she knows him well enough to know that if she apologizes, he’ll say he’s not mad. Sometimes he lies. 

“Do we need one? I was just going to say that we’re going out to dinner… or something.”

“Where are you actually going? A party?”

“Does it matter?”

Despite the fact that Leon already knows what happened at the Christmas party, she hesitates to tell him. She knows he won’t care. He’ll protect her, he always will. That was his promise to her and her father. Plus, she has blackmail material. She won’t play dirty, but she could. 

“The secret to being a good liar is telling as much of the truth as possible. So, tell me the truth, and I’ll help you come up with a way to… change it a little bit,” he tells her. 

She takes a deep breath before divulging the greatest secret of the century. “Fine. Jill asked me out. We’re going to dinner.”

She swears she can hear his lips curve into a smile. “Okay, so, that means you and I are going to dinner. What time is our reservation? And, am I going to pick you up?”

“Reservation is at 7:15, and I guess you can pick me up.”

So, he picks her up, wearing a suit and tie to match the dress code. Ashley sent him about a million mirror pictures in various pink dresses – she wanted to be “on theme” for the holiday. To every single one, he told her she looked great, but she needed to look better than “great”, she needed to look “stunning, perfect, gorgeous, jaw-dropping”. 

The doorbell rings and it’s him. 

“Daddy, Leon’s here!” She knows her father will want to speak with him – as if he doesn’t speak with him enough already. 

Leon greets him with a handshake, and calls him ‘sir’. Ashley is proud though she expected no less. He probably does this all the time – the ever-present need to please her father is one thing they have in common. 

Her father tells them to “have a good time, but not too good of a time” with a laugh, not a gun, because he’s relieved it’s Leon she’s chosen to date. He’s the one person in the world her father trusts with his daughter’s life. 

When they climb into Leon’s car, Ashley asks him, “You got a hot date too?”

“What makes you think I do?”

“The suit.”

“I’m just matching you.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, but she doesn’t believe him for a second. 

She won’t press him because she’s more focused on her own nerves than on his date – that she’s nearly 100% positive is happening. 

“What am I supposed to do?” she asks. 

“About what?”

“When I get there.”

“Go up to the host, tell them you have a reservation–”

“-I know that part, idiot! I mean, with Jill. Like, what do I say?”

“I don’t know. Just be cool.”

“I can’t be cool.”

“You’re overthinking this. It’s not your first date. Just be normal. Do what you normally do.”

When he puts the car in park, Ashley hesitates. 

“We’re here,” he reminds her. 

“I know, I’m just… I need a moment…”

“I have a reservation at 7:30, Ash,” he says with a smile creeping up.

“So you are going on a date! I knew it! Who is it?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, practically pushing her out of the car. 

“It’s Chris, isn’t it?” Ashley asks, a bit too loud for his liking. 

“Shut up. I’ll tell you later.” But his reddened cheeks have already said enough. 

Jill waits by the entrance wearing a well-tailored pantsuit and freshly shined heels. She fits in well with the crowd in her adherence to the formal dress code, but she sticks out among everyone else in Ashley’s eyes. 

“Hi,” Ashley says with a stupid little wave as she approaches her date. 

“Wow, you look beautiful,” Jill says, giving her the once-over in the most polite way one can. 

“Same to you.”

“Thanks, I took your advice.”

Oh, the pantsuit. She remembered. 

“No secret service tonight?” Jill whispers as they walk towards the hostess. 

“Nope. Just me.”

“I can’t believe you convinced your parents… after everything that happened.”

“Well, they think I’m with Leon. He’s the one who drove me here.”

“Ah. That explains why I didn’t see a limo pull up out front.”

The hostess has Ashley speak up when she gives them the name for the reservation. Ashley Graham is generally well-known, and thus, she tries not to attract any attention. The hostess is about to say something about how long they’ll have to wait when a waiter clearly recognizes her, and cuts in, “Actually, Miss Graham, we have your table ready.”

He takes two menus and beckons the two women to follow him towards the back of the restaurant where a table is set with heart-shaped tealights and an arrangement of flowers in the middle. It looks fancier than the tables surrounding them, she notices. Perks of being the president’s daughter. 

Sitting in front of Jill Valentine, she does not feel like Ashley Graham – just Ashley, a shy blonde girl with hearts for eyes. Jill Valentine is a name that means nothing to the wait staff, but everything to Ashley. 

Ashley usually listens intently to the list of specials but it’s hard to focus when out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jill’s grays sparkling like diamonds. 

“Do you know what you’re going to have?” Jill asks. 

“The Steak Au Poivre sounds good,” she says in her best French accent. 

“I don’t think I can pronounce any of these things. I guess I’ll just have to point at the menu like an idiot.”

“No one will care. They probably won’t even notice.”

“You don’t think so? What if I use the wrong fork for dessert?”

“You use the spoon for dessert.”

“Are there any other rules that I should know about?”

“Maybe, but they’re all bullshit– sorry, I mean, um, they’re all silly.” She gives Jill the same bullshit smile that she gives to diplomats and reporters alike. 

“I’m guessing swearing isn’t allowed either?”

“I’ve been trained not to, but I think Leon has been a bad influence on me.”

“Ah, yes, Leon, the real bad boy type,” Jill says sarcastically.

“Badder than me.”

“Well, you’re America’s sweetheart. You’re a good girl.”

Ashley tries to hide the way ‘good girl’ makes her feel by diverting the attention back to Leon. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always,” Jill says, intrigued by Ashley’s one tiny step towards ‘naughtiness’, as well as Leon’s secrets which he shares with almost no one. 

“Leon’s on a date tonight.”

“With who?”

“Chris.”

And, just then, while Jill processes the information, the waiter comes back to check on them. 

Ashley asks what he thinks the best wine is, and he asks her “white or red?”

“White. I don’t want to spill red wine on this dress.”

“It is a very nice dress.”

“On a very nice girl,” Jill says. “There’s no denying that,” the waiter agrees.

“Can I see your ID?” he asks Jill, and while she fishes it out of her purse, he turns to Ashley, and says, “I’d ask for yours as well, Miss Graham, but I remember seeing pictures from your birthday party in People Magazine a month or so ago.”

Ashley gives him a polite smile, the same one she gave everyone that day, all the photographers who took those pictures. Very few people have ever seen the real Ashley – and sometimes, she thinks she has yet to see herself. 

“Ah, Miss Valentine, how appropriate for the holiday.”

“Yep,” she says, clearly suppressing an eyeroll as she’s definitely heard that one before.  

When he walks away, Jill immediately leans back over the table to Ashley. “Leon and Chris?” she asks. “Since when is this a thing?”

“They, um, well, I found them making out at the Christmas party, but I was sworn to secrecy. I only found this out tonight when he was dropping me off… I was a little nervous and he told me he didn’t want to be late for his reservation.”

“Why were you nervous?”

Isn’t it obvious? She thinks. 

“I’m on a date… with you.”

“You’ve been kidnapped by a cult and I’m scary to you?”

“You’re not scary. You’re just… out of my league.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she says a bit too loud, and remembers what Ashley said about swearing. She coughs transitionally, and corrects herself, “I apologize. I meant, you must be making a facetious statement.”

“I am not fucking kidding or being facetious,” Ashley says, much quieter. 

“Fine. We’ll table it, but don’t think you’ve won just yet.”

Dinner is good – no, great. At least, until a couple next to them butts into their conversation. The husband – presumably – looks to be in his late 60s, and something about him feels off but so does everything in Ashley’s life. The PTSD, being America’s sweetheart, going on a date with a woman for the first time. 

“Are you ladies having a nice ‘Galentine’s Day’? That’s what it’s called right? Forgive me, I’m an old man who can’t keep up with the youngsters.”

Ashley gets a spark of confidence, or maybe she’s just tired of the bullshit, and she finally snaps, finally gives someone a sliver of truth. 

“Actually, it’s a Valentine’s Day for us,” she says, grabbing Jill’s hand across the table.

“Oh, well, in that case, Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, obviously thrown off by the notion that she is on a date with a woman whether he knows she’s the president's daughter or not. 

They both glance over to see him whispering to his wife, and she can tell they’re talking about her. She cares, but less than she ever has before. There’s something fun about this feeling, about honesty. Catharsis is exhilarating, she finds. 

“Wow,” Jill says, with a look of pride that gives Ashley a greater wave of exhilaration, and it’s a good thing that they don’t spend enough time in public for her to grab a microphone and tell the world she’s on a date with the one and only, Jill Valentine. 

“Was it okay that I did that?”

“Yeah, it was cool, actually, but I just didn’t expect it.”

Cool. She’s cool. Ashley’s usually sweet or cute, but never cool. Until now.

Their first argument is over who will pay the bill. 

“You think you’re paying?” Jill says, appalled at the concept, “I asked you out.”

“But I picked the restaurant,” Ashley protests. 

The waiter cuts in, “I don’t mean to intrude, but this meal is on the house. Since President Graham was so gracious during his last visit, we want to pay back the favor as best we can. So, please, ladies, order whatever you’d like.”

“Anything?” Ashley asks, having looked over the wine list and deciding on a water earlier. 

“Anything,” he repeats, handing her the wine list, knowing she’ll want to look over it again. 

They get the special president’s daughter’s privilege of not only getting a free meal, but also corking the wine and taking it back to Jill’s apartment. 

They drink from the bottle on Jill’s couch, and Ashley realizes quickly that she’s a bit tipsy, and she cannot show up at home like this. She also finds that the idea of staying over at Jill’s place is very appealing. 

So, she calls her partner in crime. 

“Leon,” she whispers into the phone. 

“What?” he says, somewhat annoyed, and she’s sure she’s interrupted something. Something salacious. 

“Can you call my dad and say I’m staying at your place?”

“No way,” he says. “This is supposed to be our first date. Your dad would be furious.”

“Just tell him I’m sick. That I ate something bad and you’re taking care of me. I can send you a picture of me laying on the floor, keeled over in pain, if he asks for proof.”

For someone dedicated to being ‘good’, Ashley is adept at lying.

“Fine, but don’t think I’m just going to lie for you all the time. I can’t. He’s my boss in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Thank you, Leon. Love you.” She blows kisses into the phone and he hangs up.

“I think it'll be even more convincing if you send pictures of you on the bathroom floor, leaning over the toilet.”

“You’re a genius!”

So, they convince Ashley’s dad to let her sleep at “Leon’s” house. It’s not hard. In fact, her dad thanks him for taking good care of her. 

They take stupid pictures of Ashley acting like she’s about to be sick and a few of the two of them smiling – there’s one Ashley considers printing out and framing. She would, if things were different. And later, Jill gets out her old polaroid camera and takes pictures of Ashley that are for her eyes only. 

“You okay, Ash?” Jill tilts her head to the side, examining Ashley. “You look like you might actually be sick.” 

Jill presses the back of her palm to Ashley’s forehead, checking for a fever. Ashley grabs her wrist and takes her palm in her own.

“I’m fine,” she smiles, and redness replaces the paleness in her cheeks. “I was acting.”

“You’re a really good actress, then. Have you taken classes?”

“No, but dating boys in college requires a certain level of ‘faking it’ if you know what I mean.”

Ashley begins to realize she might be a bit more than tipsy when she lets that secret spill, but she gets caught by a case of the giggles when she hears Jill’s laugh turn to a snort. 

“My condolences,” Jill says. “You’re far stronger than me. I’ve never been in that situation before, but I’ve never been one to spare a man’s feelings.”

“So, you’ve never been with a guy before?”

“Nope.”

“You’ve always known you were gay, then?”

“Pretty much. I remember seeing Lara Croft and her triangular boobs and not knowing whether I wanted to be her or be with her.”

“Who’s Lara Croft?”

“Oh my God, you’ve never played Tomb Raider?!”

“Sounds familiar but nope. I’ve never really been into video games. Maybe you can introduce me to those too.”

Too. She nods in understanding. She’ll introduce her to what it’s like to be with a woman. 

When the wine bottle is empty, they end up in Jill’s bed – mostly clothed, but tired of sitting up. 

“Mind if I take my bra off?” Jill asks. “The underwire is killing me.”

“I’ve actually been dying to do the same thing.” 

Jill turns away, slipping her bra out from under her shirt – the jacket has been long lost by now. Ashley does the same well-known trick, while she stares at herself in Jill’s full-length mirror. 

“I hate dressing up,” she groans as she falls back onto the bed. 

“Then, why do you do it?”

“Because I want to look good.”

Jill scoffs. “You would look good in anything.”

“Shut up. You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I? I already got to go on a date with you, and you’re literally in my bed right now. I’m just telling you the truth.”

Ashley stops, lost in thought. She is in Jill’s bed. What happens now?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She tentatively places her hand on Ashley’s shoulder. “I was kind of messing around with the ‘you in my bed’ comment. I’m not expecting you to do that with me. I mean, unless you want to, but I know you’ve never done this with a woman before – and you know, I’d never expect it from anyone… I was assuming I’d hopefully get to cuddle with you, but that’s okay if–”

Ashley cuts her off with a kiss. It takes Jill a moment to register that Ashley’s lips are on hers, but she reciprocates, slowly, matching her pace, letting Ashley have control.

They pull back for air, and Ashley says, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk for that long, like ever. It was freaking me out.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m okay,” she says. “I just might need a little bit of guidance… Maybe you could tell me how this goes?”

“Well, it seems you’ve already got the kissing part down.”

“Aw, I was hoping you’d say I need more practice.”

“You know what, I changed my mind, we both need to practice some more.”

“And then what?”

“What do you mean ‘and then what?’”

“Sex,” Ashley whispers like it’s some sort of secret. 

“It’s kind of similar to how it works with guys actually. You know, hand stuff, mouth stuff, combinations of those, and then, if you want I can… fuck you.”

“Okay,” Ashley says, lost in the fantasies of all the foreplay. 

“How about you tell me, how does this usually go for you?”

“Usually, we make out for a while, and then he starts grabbing my tits,” she says with an eye roll, “and then I take my shirt off and he shoves his hand down my pants and I have to pretend that he found my clit.”

Jill and Ashley lock eyes and with a smirk, Jill puts Ashley in her lap. It’s hot and heavy and eventually neither of them can stand to wear their clothes for another second. 

“I can’t reach my zipper,” Ashley says, so Jill, topless, with pants unbuttoned, unzips her, and Ashley lets the dress fall to the floor. 

“These are cute,” Jill muses, playing with the seam of Ashley’s pink panties, brand new and lacy. 

“Thanks,” she says, but she’s too focused on Jill’s pants coming down to reveal a navy blue cotton pair. 

“I guess I’ll just put these in the laundry basket,” Jill says, coyly, bending over and walking away, so she can give Ashley a view of her backside. The secret she’d momentarily kept. The tiny thong, revealing her ass. 

“I see what you did there,” Ashley says. 

“Business in the front, party in the back.”

And there’s no amount of flirtation that can help Ashley. She is stunned in the face of the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. There’s no president’s daughter’s privilege when she’s nearly naked in Jill’s bed. 

Maybe she is finding what it means to be just ‘Ashley’. It is terrifying in its novelty and wonderful all at once. It is childlike wonder but she’s not as innocent as she once thought. Maybe it’s innate or kinesthetic learning, but she can please and be pleased by a woman. It’s easier without the harsh edges and prodding at all the wrong places. Precision and communication lead her gracefully into arousal and then completely disheveled, writhing, sobbing headlong into orgasm. 

Her eyes snap open to see Jill above her, head tipped back in pleasure, lips parted – and as she cums, one word escapes her mouth: Ashley. 

Just as Jill keeps the polaroids, Ashley keeps that memory tucked secretly inside her pockets. 

Despite the hangover, she feels a kind of bliss that is completely unprecedented. It would be scary if it weren’t lovely. The D.C. air is cold, but Jill’s arms around her are warm. The only sad thing about this moment is that it has to end. 

Eventually, she looks at the clock, and it’s much later than she wants it to be. 

“Ugh. I have to get home or else my dad will kill me,” she groans. 

“I know,” Jill says. “It sucks that you have to go, but you know, you can always come back.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m free next weekend.”

Next weekend. It sounds like forever, but she’ll take it. 

Ashley picks up her phone to see way too many missed calls from Leon. 

She immediately calls him. She knows she’s in trouble before he picks up. 

“Have you seen the headlines?” he asks.

“What headlines?”

She’s imagined many horrible possibilities – it’s a common thought when her life is constant under scrutiny. 

But this one, she didn’t expect: “America’s Sweetheart and Her Sweetheart Seen on Valentine’s Day,” with a picture of her and Jill at the restaurant. And that’s the most flattering headline of them all. 

The tears fall, but Jill doesn’t ask what’s wrong. She just lets Ashley fall into her arms and cry it out while she looks at the pictures Leon has texted her. 

“I’m sorry,” Jill says eventually. “It’s my fault. I should’ve known something like this would happen.”

“How is it your fault? I’m the one they’re mad at.”

“But this is your first time going through this. It happens a lot – not on this scale – but a lot. People will always judge you for this kind of thing.”

“Then what do we do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to leave, but I think you have to.” She pauses. “And I don’t want this to be over, but I understand if it has to.”

Ashley nods and puts on her dress in silence.

“It’s cold out,” Jill says. “Take this.”

She tosses Ashley a sweatshirt that has the STARS logo on it. 

“Maybe you can even convince your dad this was Leon’s.”

They both know it doesn’t matter either way, but she takes it and treasures it. But not as much as she treasures the final kiss goodbye.

Leon picks her up, looking more terrified than she does. She realizes that Leon could be fired from his job, but she can’t be fired from hers. 

“I’m so sorry, Leon,” she sobs. 

“It’s my fault too. I agreed to it. I’ll take responsibility.”

“No, I’m going to tell him I forced you.”

She’s lied enough already, might as well keep going.

Leon ushers her inside where her dad is waiting, holding out a newspaper. 

“What in the world were you thinking, Ashley Graham?”

“I was being stupid.”

“I know that.”

He turns to Leon. “And you-”

“-It was my fault,” Ashley cuts in. “I practically forced him to, and the photos of me are real. I got sick and he picked me up and took care of me. He really did his best, I swear.”

“Sir, I take full responsibility,” Leon tries to say, but her dad is focused on her. 

“I want the truth. Did you really make Leon do this for you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“If I find out you’re lying, you’re both going to be in huge trouble.”

“I swear, I’m telling the truth.”

“Leon, if you’ll excuse us,” her father gestures for him to leave. 

“Absolutely, sir. And I apologize again.”

“It’s not your fault, Leon. Ashley is the one who acted inappropriately.”

He holds out the newspaper to her with pure rage in his eyes. 

“What the Hell were you thinking?”

She doesn’t say a word. Instead, she snatches the newspaper from his hand, runs to her room, and slams the door shut so she can cry in peace.

There is one final secret that Ashley keeps. She cuts out the picture of her and Jill and keeps it in a box inside her closet, then slips it in her wallet when she moves, and tucks it into her bedside drawer in a new house. It stays hidden and safe by her side, no man sleeping beside ever sees it. 

When she looks at the two of them, in isolation, they look happy. It’s a photo that would go in an album rather than an expose if she were seen with a boy instead. Despite the way the reporters spun the story, it was a good night – one of the best of her life – and she’ll always have it, even if it’s just a memory. 

[cuttergauthier]

Family Snow Day

Female reader x Timo Meier

word count: 0.8k

Masterlist | Masterlist

Warning: Fluff, Domestic Timo

y/d/n = you're daughter's name

I Opened my eyes and looked at the alarm clock to see that it’s 6:30 a.m. We forgot to close the curtains last night so I could see the snow falling outside. I reached for my phone to check and see if Y/d/n had school today. Our daughter is currently in Kindergarten and she is the light of Timo and I’s Life. Looks like because of the weather the school is closed today which means it’s a snow day for Y/d/n, thankfully Timo had the day off today so Y/d/n is going to be excited to be able to spend it with both of her parents.

I put my phone down on the nightstand and turned around to see my husband lying on his stomach still sleeping, his face facing me, he looked so peaceful. I know for a fact that Y/d/n will be walking into our room in a few minutes. She does this every morning, she’s a morning person so It's rare if I have to wake her up in the morning since she’s usually pretty good at waking up on her own.

I reached out and softly stroked my hand softly on Timo’s cheek, he stirred before his eyes opened when he saw me he smiled. He groaned, blinking softly before reaching forward and giving me a peck on the lips.

“What time is it?” he asked once he pulled away.

“6:30 a.m. it’s also a snow day, I checked and the school is closed due to the weather.” I said softly.

He groaned before pulling me to his chest. 

“Why are we awake then?” he asked, making me giggle.

“Because you and I both know that no matter what our daughter is going to walk in here any second” I teased.

“Do you think we can convince her to go back to bed?” he asked.

I smiled before shaking my head.

“Not a chance” I said 

Not even a second later our door opened and our daughter came running in before climbing up on the bed.

“Mommy, daddy did you see it’s snowing” she said excitedly, jumping into our arms. Timo and I both smiled. 

“Is it? I didn’t realize” Timo said, teasing before tickling her. She started giggling in his arms.

“Mommy save me” She said through her giggles.

“Of course baby” I said before pulling her softly in my arms and placing a kiss to her forehead.

She cuddled into my arms, while Timo smiled happily at us.

“Guess what sweetheart, today is a snow day so you get to spend it with mommy and I” Timo said softly to her. 

Her eyes widened and a smile broke out.

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes, what do you say we start this morning with pancakes?” I ask her.

She nodded her head excitedly. Pancakes are her favorite breakfast.

“Perfect, let’s go to the kitchen.” I said, I got out of bed and helped her down the bed.

“Can daddy and I help Mommy?” she asked before taking my hand so we could walk downstairs to the kitchen.

“Well of course” I said happily. Timo also got out of bed and we all made our way downstairs to the kitchen.

I got the pan ready, Timo pulled her up and sat her down on the kitchen island while he helped her stir the ingredients in a bowl.

“What do we want in our pancakes? Blueberries or chocolate chips?” I ask both of them.

“Chocolate chips” They both answered, making me giggle.

“You got it” I said, I got the chocolate chips out of the cabinet and gave it to Timo so he and Y/d/n could mix it in with the ingredients.

 Y/d/n and her father are so much alike it amazes me, I adore my family, I couldn’t ask for more.

Once the pancakes were ready and we finished eating I cleaned up the dishes, while Timo went and got Y/d/n for the day. Since we are going to spend the day at home, we thought we would all dress cozy and watch Christmas movies.

Christmas is only a few weeks away so we thought it would be a good activity.

Once I was done I made my way to Timo and I’s room and dit my morning routine before changing into some sweatpants and one of my Husband’s hoodies.

Once I got back to the living room, Timo had set up everything and both him and Y/d/n are sitting down on the couch. Y/d/n was cuddled up to him. I smiled at the scene before making my way to them and cuddling up to Timo on his other side. He wrapped his arm around me and placed a kiss on my forehead before smiling.

“I love our family” he whispered in my ear.

“So do I, I couldn't be happier” I said smiling up at him.

“Shhh” our daughter said Concentrated on the movie, making Timo and I laugh.