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punkshort · 2 months ago

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The Holiday in Vermont

Thank you anon for this prompt!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: A much needed escape after a brutal breakup to Woodstock, Vermont gives you much more than you ever bargained for when you meet Dave York.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), oral f!receiving, unprotected piv sex, one little spank, mentions of infidelity, angst, food and alcohol consumption, heartbreak

WC: 8.1K

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

A/N: inspired by the movie The Holiday - if you're a fan you'll notice some very familiar lines ❤️

"Yes, okay? I slept with her."

The words still echoed loudly inside your head.

"She's in love with me, I'm sorry!"

You couldn't remember storming down the stairs and yelling in your ex-boyfriend's face in the middle of your driveway, but you did remember clocking him square across the jaw. Twice.

He tried to blame you, tried to blame your long working hours. But you refused to accept it. He was the one who encouraged his receptionist's flirty behavior. He was the one who took her to fancy hotels when you were working late. Not you. Him.

However, he had a point. You worked a lot. Probably too much, but you loved what you did. Was it so much to ask for a partner who supported and understood your dreams and goals?

Alright. Maybe you should have planned more date nights or something.

It didn't matter. Things were over. Finished. Kaput. But you couldn't stand the thought of being by yourself during Christmas in your cold, lonely penthouse apartment in Chicago. So with a quick, spur of the moment google search, you found yourself renting an Airbnb in the quaint little town of Woodstock, Vermont.

Known for its idyllic shops and gorgeous winter landscapes, you figured, why not? A week away from the chaos of your job and pain of a failed relationship. Your boss was stunned to hear you wanted to take a vacation, the first since you had started six years ago, but he was quick to approve your time off request knowing full well the company couldn't run without you.

Five days before Christmas, you sat in a sweet little cabin just a short walk from town. You were in the woods, just you and a stack of books you promised yourself to at least try to take a crack at, in front of a cozy fireplace. You must have dozed off because you jolted upright with your heart racing when you heard a key being worked rather roughly at the front door.

"Oh, shit. Oh, fuck," you whispered, tossing the fuzzy blanket off you and racing to the fireplace. With a poker in hand, you swiveled around right as the door swung open.

You heard a man's voice grumbling under his breath and your grip on the poker tightened. When he flicked the lights on, you gave him your best scowl and tried to look as fearsome as possible.

"I've already called the police, I suggest you be on your way," you lied.

But all he did was frown and close the door behind him, leaving the blustery, snowy weather outside where it belonged.

"Who are you?" he asked with a sharpness to his voice. You scoffed, offended.

"Me? I'm renting this place from the owner, Sandy. And who should I tell the cops broke in?"

The man smirked and shrugged off his coat, completely unphased by your weapon.

"I'm Dave. Sandy's brother."

You stumbled backwards as he hurried over to the fireplace to warm his hands. It was then you got a good look at him. Strong, cut jaw. Clean shaven. Dark brown hair with eyes to match, but there was a softness to them you couldn't deny. And when he leaned forward to throw another log onto the fire, you noticed the way his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his sweater.

"And what are you doing here, 'Dave, Sandy's brother'?"

He chuckled and sat back on his heels to look up at you, the reflection from the fire making his dark eyes sparkle.

"Well, on the rare occasion I find myself having too much fun at the local bar, Sandy lets me spend the night here. My place is a good half hour away and she worries about me driving. You know how sisters are," he said with a small smile. The iciness to his voice was gone as he slowly searched your face. "Want to tell me your name now?"

You wanted to stay rigid but the way he looked at you caused you to fold. You told him your name and explained you were staying through Christmas to get away from... things.

He nodded and leaned back into the couch you had fallen asleep on just a few hours earlier, stretching his arms wide across the back and spreading his legs while gazing up at you.

"So no husband, then?"

You swallowed and kept your eyes locked on his face. Why was he asking?

"No. No husband. Be a little strange to be attached to someone and not be with them during Christmas, don't you think?" you asked with an arched brow.

Dave smirked and let his eyes drop to stare at the fire.

"Imagine so."

Silence stretched on for another minute and you lowered yourself onto the couch.

"So you can't drive?" you asked. Dave pushed air through his lips and shook his head.

"But I can call an uber or something. I didn't know she rented out the place."

You glanced around the small cabin, weighing your options. If he wanted to kill you, he would have already, right?

"Or you could stay," you offered. His eyes snapped up to yours in surprise. "I mean, if you wanted. Since you're already here and all."

"You sure?"

You nodded and pressed your lips together.

"Mhm," you hummed as you looked around. "There's probably a spare pillow somewhere."

Dave's lips curled into a slow smile as he watched you fumble around for a pillow.

"Mind if I ask why you're here spending Christmas alone?"

You froze, scanning your brain for a lie until you realized it didn't really matter if this man knew your story, you would never see him again, anyway.

"I, uh, broke up with someone," you said, finally finding a pillow and thick blanket in a cabinet behind the television. "I wanted to get away from the city to distract myself and... well, so far it's not really working," you admitted with a wry chuckle. You turned to hand him the bedding, fingers brushing against his and sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes locked with Dave and you felt your heart flutter before you forced yourself to take a breath and snap out of it.

"Sorry to hear that," Dave said softly. Then the corner of his mouth twitched when he added, "Maybe I could help distract you?"

"Excuse me?" you snapped, crossing your arms. Dave set the bedding down next to him and waved his hands in surrender.

"Sorry. Not appropriate."

"No, it wasn't."

"Sorry," he said again. You swallowed tightly, anger and excitement battling it out inside you. Part of you wanted to kick him out in the snow and book the first flight out of there. But another much louder part of you wanted to consider his offer. What better way to move on from your ex than to hook up with an admittedly very attractive man who you would never see again?

It's not something you'd ever done before, but did that make it so wrong? Could you not just enjoy yourself for one night?

Dave had stood to spread out his blanket across the couch, ignoring your internal conflict behind him. Once he had everything set, he finally turned to look at you.

"Well... good night."

Your heart was already racing in your chest from your decision made seconds prior, but when he stepped forward to give you a peck on the cheek, an action no doubt fueled by the alcohol in his veins, your blood pumped even faster. At the last second, you turned your head and captured his lips with yours.

The kiss was a bit stiff. Both of you paused in surprise but lingered a few moments before he pulled away and looked down at you curiously.

"I thought-"

"I changed my mind," you said before grabbing his thick sweater in your fist and pulling him down for another kiss. That one was less than polite. His hands flew up to cup your face while his tongue pried open your mouth and licked past your teeth. You knew your bedroom was somewhere behind you, but Dave knew the layout of the cabin much better. He began to walk you backwards while your hands pawed desperately at his shoulders, and only once you both collapsed into bed did you even break away for air.

"I never do this," you panted while tearing off your shirt. Dave was working on his belt, ripping open the leather in a frenzy.

"That's okay," he responded while kicking off his pants.

"It's just - I caught my ex cheating on me with his receptionist," you continued, clothes falling off you one by one. "And the thought of hooking up with a guy I'll never see again is weirdly turning me on right now."

Dave laughed and tugged his sweater over his head, revealing his strong chest and thick arms.

"He sounds like an asshole."

"He is," you breathed right before Dave crawled on top of you for another deep kiss. You moaned into his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist, jumping a little when you felt his already hard cock press between your bodies.

"Relax," he whispered, then gave you one more quick kiss before dragging his mouth down your throat. His hands greedily squeezed at your hips and his tongue darted out to lick and bite gently at your breasts as he continued his way down, not stopping until his shoulders were wedged between your thighs and his mouth was hovering over your glistening cunt.

Dave didn't waste any time teasing you. He buried his face between your legs, lapping up your seam a few times before prodding further. His tongue swirled at your entrance with a muffled groan while you squirmed and gasped in his hold. You tried to subconsciously inch away, body already too sensitive, but his arms pinned down each of your legs, holding you flat and open so he could eat at you freely.

Curses left your lips in soft whimpers as he pushed you higher and higher with his mouth. Your fingers grabbed weakly at his disheveled hair, drawing his eyes open. He was transfixed when he watched you, chest heaving and head twisting this way and that as you struggled to find your high.

Either he wasn't the kind of guy that liked to tease women or he was too eager to fuck you because his lips latched around your clit, sending your back arching off the mattress with a broken cry. With just a few flicks of his tongue, he sent you hurtling over the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as your orgasm rolled through you, hips rocking up to meet his mouth until your legs grew shaky and your heart felt like it might beat right out of your chest.

"Oh, fuck - oh, my god," you gasped, dragging in huge gulps of air while Dave peppered kisses over your hips and up your stomach until he was pressing his body against yours.

"Need a minute?" he asked with a cocky lilt to his voice. His lips tugged into a smile against your throat and you had a feeling he noticed the tremor in your hands as they raked through his hair.

"No, I'm fine," you replied defiantly. Dave propped himself up on his forearms, smirking down at you with his lips still wet from your climax.

"Yeah? You think you're ready to take me, baby?"

His knee nudged yours aside, opening your legs even wider so he could reach down and fist his cock. You nodded but he caught the way your breath hitched when he dragged just the tip through your folds.

"Shit," you whispered, eyes already fluttered closed.

"Hey," he said with a sharp little bite to your chin. Your eyelids popped open, slightly annoyed. "Keep 'em open. Eyes on me."

"You're bossy in bed," you told him. He just chuckled and lined himself up.

"I just know what I like."

You were about to say something back, probably something snippy to try and knock his arrogance down a peg, but at that very same moment he pushed himself inside you, every thick, hard inch in one go, and whatever words you had queued up died in your throat.

Now you understood why he wanted you to look at him. He wanted to see the way your eyes changed when he entered you. He wanted to see that initial shock followed by that rush of pleasure. He wanted to see your eyes soften when you grew used to his girth and fill with need when he took too long to move. You knew all of this because it was exactly what you saw reflected in his own eyes as he stared down at you.

"Dave," you whispered with your eyebrows still pinched together. He was so fucking thick that the stretch stung a little, but in the best way possible. "Dave... fuck me. Please fu-"

You gasped and threw your head back into your pillow when he dragged himself out a few inches just so he could slam back into you.

"Oh, god, yes!" you cried out, his hips snapping against you faster. He kept one hand tangled in your hair and the other firmly planted on your hip. Each time he pounded into you, he yanked your hips upwards, driving himself as deep as possible while you fought for breath because every devastating stroke punched the air straight from your lungs.

You had never been with a man like Dave before. He had swagger but he had the goods to back it up. He was rough with the way he fucked you, but so soft when his mouth connected with yours, muffling your cries and his grunts.

His hips suddenly slowed and your eyes popped open in surprise. Your lips were still locked with his but he was fucking you slower now and then you realized he was matching pace with the way he was kissing you. Soft and deep and with purpose. You closed your eyes and felt a sigh shake loose in your chest, then your arms wrapped around his neck and you melted into his embrace. You weren't sure what caused the sudden change but it felt good. It was sweet and intimate and lo-

No. No, this was not why you came all the way to Vermont. You refused to fall for another man who would end up breaking your heart. You told Dave you just wanted a one-night stand, but the way he was pressing his body against yours and the way his tongue was mapping your mouth like he was trying to commit you to memory had you pulling away. You gave his chest a hard shove and his eyes fluttered open in confusion.

"What are you-"

"Move," you said, pushing him once again. He frowned but did as you asked, leaning back to give you space so you could pull yourself up onto your elbows. When you squirmed away, his cock slipped out of you and you swore you heard him whimper, but you pushed it from your mind.

"Did I do something?" he asked, but then you flipped onto your hands and knees and looked at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

"Want you to fuck me like this," you said, wiggling your ass in the air. His eyes darkened and his hands greedily found your waist, and all traces of that softness he had just shown you vanished. You sighed and rested the side of your head on the bed with your arms stretched out above you while you waited.

"Such a pretty sight, baby," he murmured before cracking the palm of his hand across one cheek. You gasped and jumped forward but he quickly dragged you back, impaling you on his cock once again.

Just as you had hoped, Dave began to fuck you harder. His fingers dug into your hips, pushing and pulling you in rhythm with his thrusts. Every stroke was so deep and powerful that it had tears burning the backs of your eyes. It was absolutely perfect. Your mind was blissfully blank. Every thought and memory and worry from the past week flew out of your brain while Dave fucked you like it was his last day on earth.

As if he could read your mind, he said, "This what you needed, isn't it? Needed someone to fuck you properly for once?"

Tears leaked out of your eyes and soaked into the bedding.

"Yes," you gasped. "So good - you feel so fucking good -"

"Did he used to fuck you like this?"

For the life of you, you couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Not when his cock kept splitting you open like it was. Your legs were getting shaky and you felt that crest beginning to rapidly rise with every harsh thrust of his hips against your ass.

"W-who?"

Dave chuckled and fell forward. His palms were pressed flat on either side of your head and you wailed when somehow the shift had forced his cock even deeper inside you.

"Your ex, baby. What was his name?"

You sobbed and shook your head, hands grabbing to push against the headboard he was quickly fucking you into.

"Don't remember his name?" Dave panted in your ear. "Ouch. Poor bastard. Bet you know my name, though, don't you?"

"Yes!" you screamed out when two of his fingers reached underneath and began to press fast circles against your clit. "Dave! Dave! D - ah, fuck! - I -"

It hit you all at once. Tears streamed down your face when you came, gushing all around his cock as he continued to pummel into you. He was saying something, you were sure of it, but you couldn't hear a word. The ringing in your ears was too loud. Your muscles were jumping and spasming with every wave of your orgasm, pussy squeezing and fluttering around his shaft and pulling his own release to the surface with you.

Right when you were beginning to regain your senses, you heard him groan your name repeatedly. He grabbed at your hip again, abandoning your clit when he sensed it was too much, and yanked you back so your ass was flush against him as he spilled his seed inside of you. Every burst had him softly groaning and pulling until he exhaled shakily and collapsed, slipping out of you and knocking you off your knees to lay flat on the bed with him.

"How's that for a distraction?" he murmured. You grinned and pushed the hair away from your face.

"Not bad."

Dave huffed and rolled onto his side, facing you.

"You couldn't remember your ex's damn name. I think it was a little better than that." He reached out to gently caress your cheek and you felt that softness creeping back up again, but that time you couldn't fight it. You were too exhausted, so you closed your eyes and gave in.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow you would remind him it was a one time thing and that you were not interested in anything else. But for that one night, you let him pull you close with his bare chest pressed against your back and soundly fell asleep wrapped in his strong arms.

The next morning you had dragged yourself out of bed, fighting against every cell in your body that begged you to remain warm and cozy under the covers next to Dave. As tempting as it was to examine him while he slept so peacefully, you knew yourself. If you weren't careful, you would end up developing feelings for him and you certainly couldn't afford to be put in a position where you would be disappointed by yet another man.

That was why you found yourself an hour later fiddling with the coffee maker and cursing under your breath when the damn thing wouldn't turn on.

"Morning," his deep voice rumbled from the doorway. You whipped around and gave him a polite smile. He was wearing the same clothes as the night before but his hair was still a little unkept and his gaze was drifting appreciatively over your frame, making your smile widen against your will.

"Morning. I was trying to make you some coffee but this stupid thing-"

"-needs to be plugged in," he finished for you with a smirk. You furrowed your brow and twisted back around to examine the machine when suddenly he had sidled up behind you. "Not much of a coffee drinker, I take it?" he asked, stretching an arm around you to plug in the machine and flip the switch. You could feel his exhale on the back of your neck as memories from the night before flooded your mind.

"Uh, no, not really," you admitted while stepping to the side to create a little more distance. You picked up a glass filled with a store bought smoothie, forgoing the freshly made smoothies you were used to buying every morning back in Chicago since the small town of Woodstock didn't afford many options. Dave's face twisted into a look of disgust when he saw you take a sip.

"That looks like lawn clippings in a glass."

"It's not that bad - want to try a little?"

He shook his head and turned to open a cabinet. "I'll wait for the good stuff, but thanks," he said after placing a coffee mug on the counter.

You sat at the small kitchen table, tugging your oversized sweatshirt tighter around your neck as you sipped your smoothie and watched Dave maneuver around the room, completely comfortable and in his element while he dug around for something to eat and fixed his coffee to his liking.

It felt very domestic. Too domestic. So you cleared your throat, deciding you needed to clarify your intentions before you were pulled even further under his spell, but Dave spoke first.

"Are you busy today? I had some errands to run in town. Thought you might wanna tag along. I could show you around, maybe get some lunch-"

He had turned around with his mug clutched in his hands when you cut him off.

"Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea," you said. "I'm not really looking for anything more than, you know... what we did-"

"Just using me for a quick fuck?" he asked, but when your eyes snapped up to his in surprise, you could tell he was teasing you.

"Well..."

Dave chuckled and sat down across from you.

"Don't worry, I'm not looking for anything serious, either," he assured you. You watched his tongue dart out to lick his lip, catching a drop of coffee that hung there, and your thighs squeezed together.

"Okay, good. Glad we got that out of the way."

"So, you wanna come to town with me or what? I gotta pick up my car, I can drop you off after."

You blinked and shifted in your chair. Dave watched your gaze flicker uncomfortably out the window and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to fall in love with you over a few errands," he said, tone flat. "Just thought you'd want to check out the town."

"Yeah, okay, you're right," you relented. There was no harm in killing a little time with him, right? You both were on the same page and you didn't even have a chance to explore the town yet on your own.

"Great," he said with a grin, then tipped his head back and downed the rest of his coffee. Your eyes locked onto his throat and immediately noticed the marks you had left the night before. You stood quickly and told him you were going to get ready, telling yourself the same thing over and over.

He's just a rebound, it doesn't mean anything.

Woodstock, Vermont was absolutely adorable. You could see why so many people flocked there during the holidays. Everywhere you looked you saw something straight out of a Nancy Meyers movie. Wreathes, trees, twinkle lights, and garlands covered every single house and shop along the Main Street of town. There was a dusting of snow that lingered from the night before, adding to the beauty around you. There were even covered bridges draped in garland and lights. Had you ever even seen a covered bridge in real life before? Probably not.

The further you walked into town, the more you became convinced it was a literal Christmas wonderland.

"Is this place serious? A horse drawn carriage?" you exclaimed when a wagon pulled by a massive brown and white horse with blinders on trotted on by, kicking up snow with it's hooves.

"Yeah, they do Christmas big around here," Dave chuckled.

You readjusted your scarf and wrapped your arms around yourself as you continued to walk with Dave up the sidewalk. Everyone you passed was friendly, giving you both warm smiles and murmurs of good morning. You were beginning to understand why people preferred to live in small towns. Everything moved slower and afforded you the chance to simply take a breath and enjoy the little things.

"My car's just up the street. The bar is right on the corner," Dave pointed with a gloved hand. "But you mind if we stop a couple places first? I have a Christmas present I need to pick up."

"Yeah, sure," you shrugged as you followed him into the first shop. A little bell rang above your heads when you stepped inside. As you were tapping the excess snow off your boots, you breathed in deep the scent of cinnamon and looked around. It was a boutique of some kind and looked like it was marketed primarily for women. Blouses, scarves, gloves, hair accessories, purses and makeup adorned each rack and shelf.

"I placed an order last week, just gotta pick it up at the counter," he explained, taking off his gloves and instinctually grabbing for your hand. It took you by surprise and he must have sensed it because a moment later he let your hand drop and cleared his throat.

You shook it off and shoved your hand in your coat pocket, slowly trailing after him. You lingered at a display of sunglasses and hummed softly to the Christmas carols that were playing quietly through the overhead speakers.

Dave greeted the cashier and gave his name for the order, only half listening to him as you tried on different sunglasses a few feet away.

"You got the last one, you have good taste," the older lady behind the counter told him happily as she handed over a pre-wrapped gift. "It looks like-" she glanced at the tag and smiled, "Alice will have a very lovely Christmas."

Alice? You had just assumed Dave was picking up something for Sandy. He wouldn't be taking you around town to shop for another woman, would he?

When he turned around with the bag, you noticed he avoided your eye and you couldn't help but wonder if it was out of shame.

Whatever. You both said you weren't interested in anything serious. But was that because he was already in a serious relationship? The thought hadn't occurred to you until that moment and it left you feeling unsettled.

"You ready?" he asked. You set your sunglasses down and nodded, immediately picking up on the tension radiating from him after the cashier mentioned another woman's name. And even though you were dying from curiosity, you let it go because it didn't matter. He was a rebound.

After walking another block and waiting for Dave after he popped into the post office for a quick moment, you stopped in front of a quaint looking bookshop.

"Do you mind?" you asked, pointing towards the door. Dave looked up and shrugged before stepping forward and holding open the door for you.

The smell of paper, ink, and leather hit you all at once, making you sigh and smile wide.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," you said excitedly over your shoulder. Dave grinned at the way you moved from genre to genre, picking up a book here or there and turning it over in your hands before deciding whether or not to tuck it under your arm to purchase.

"Big reader?" he asked as he watched you flip through the pages of a historical romance.

"Yeah, but I hardly have the time," you confessed. "I have a huge stack back at the cabin but I think I'm an addict, I just can't stop myself from buying more whenever I see a bookshop."

"Addict, huh? Guess there's worse things to be addicted to," he said, setting down his bag so he could look through a book of his own. He read a few paragraphs and snorted as if he wasn't impressed, but out of the corner of your eye you noticed him get drawn in and continued to read the page.

"You like that one?"

His eyes flicked up to you and he straightened his spine.

"Nah. Just caught my attention for a second..."

His eyes dropped back down to the page and you giggled, tilting the cover up so you could see the title.

"I have this book. Back at the cabin. You can have it," you told him before putting your own book back and moving on down the aisle.

"I can't take your book," he protested behind you.

"I already read it, it's fine. Besides, I like to do it. Read a book and hand it off to someone else. Books are meant to be read and enjoyed, not stared at on a shelf for all of eternity," you told him as you made your way to the counter.

"Well, at least let me buy you lunch then," he said as you cashed out three new books. You swiped your card and arched an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to take me on a date?"

"No, never," Dave replied immediately with fake disgust. You laughed and took your receipt from the cashier, offering your thanks before turning and heading back out into the cold.

"Alright, fine. Where should we have our non-date?"

Dave pointed across the street with a grin.

"How about the bar? Pick up my car right after. Two birds, one stone."

"Ah, yes. No further thought required and hyper-focused on efficiency. Exactly what every woman loves to hear from a man," you joked.

Dave laughed and threw his arm around your shoulder before leading you in the direction of the bar.

"You said this isn't a date, baby."

"And yet you just called me baby."

He laughed again and shook his head but offered no further explanation.

The inside of the, presumably, only bar in town was exactly what you would expect. Dark, the scent of stale beer, various sporting events playing on the televisions scattered above the bar itself. But just like the rest of the town, the owners still jazzed the place up with a Christmas tree in the window, garland strung along the shelves of liquor, and the bartenders all wore Santa hats.

There weren't many people when you walked in, but there were a few men bellied up to the bar with beers watching a football game, along with one or two tables dining off to the side.

"Hey, Dave. Back so soon?" a male bartender asked, then did a double take when he saw you. "Oh, you got a date."

"It isn't a date," Dave said. You immediately heard his voice change. It sounded more high pitched. Like he was nervous or jumpy. You looked at him quizzically, as did the other patrons at the bar. An older man with a long beard whistled low and the other two swiveled in their seats to give you both a once over.

"Holy shit, Dave's got a date."

"It's not-"

"Hey, Sammy! Come check this out! Dave brought a girl!" another one called out into the depths of the bar. Dave's face began to turn pink and his hand fell from your shoulders.

"Vinny, cut it out."

"She's pretty, too!" the third man yelled after Vinny.

"Oh, thank you," you said shyly.

"Jesus Christ," Dave muttered beside you before ushering you over to an empty table. But given the layout of the place, you were still only seated a short distance away from the bar itself.

"Tell us, honey. What's a nice girl like you doing with a schlub like him?" the first man with the beard asked with a lopsided grin.

"Shut up, Dick," Dave snapped over his shoulder, the embarrassment making his shoulders slump forward as if he were trying to disappear into the floor.

"Don't call him a dick," you scolded.

"I'm not. That's his name."

"Oh."

"Holy shit! Thought you were yankin' my chain!" a shorter middle aged man exclaimed when he appeared around the corner. He wiped his hands on his apron and approached your table with a shit eating grin. "Hiya, name's Sammy," he said, offering you his hand. You shook it and told him your name. One of his teeth was capped with gold and the twinkle from the Christmas lights made it sparkle.

"Where you been hidin' this one?" Sammy asked Dave. You grinned and crossed your arms on the table to lean forward, reveling in his discomfort.

"She's just staying at Sandy's cabin through Christmas. Thought I would be neighborly and show her around," Dave grumbled while scanning the menu.

"Neighborly? Ain't your place like, half an hour out?"

"Yeah, that's what he said yesterday," you told Sammy with a nod. "We met last night when he made the mistake of breaking into said cabin after having too much fun with you boys."

"I didn't break in, I have a key."

"You spent the night together, huh?" the unnamed man teased from the bar. Dave squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sounds like it, Hank," Sammy called over.

"But it ain't a date," Vinny said, poorly imitating Dave.

"You think we can eat in peace or should I take her to Cheryl's deli?" Dave snapped. The three men at the bar chuckled and finally turned around to give you some privacy.

"Sorry, honey. Just gotta razz the big guy," Sammy told you with a wink.

"Oh, by all means, I'm enjoying myself immensely," you replied, waggling your eyebrows at Dave when his eyes dragged up from the table. He sighed but you caught the smirk he was trying to hide behind his menu.

You each ordered a burger and mercifully, after Sammy dropped off your drinks, you were left with some peace and quiet.

"Come here a lot, then?" you teased over your soda.

"When I'm in town."

"Ah. Does your job require a lot of travel?" It was then you realized you hadn't ever asked him anything about his job. He seemed like a business man with his clean shaven face. Maybe a banker. But what he said next shocked you.

"Yes. I work for the C.I.A."

"What?" you exclaimed quietly. He nodded, unphased. "What do you do?"

"I'm a field agent. I go where the bad guys are. Report back in to D.C. couple times a month. Even make my way to Chicago pretty often, if you believe it. Got a field office there," he told you, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh... wow," you breathed, your mind racing a mile a minute. "But you're from here?"

"I am," he replied. He was watching you carefully now, his eyes dancing with mischief as you struggled to absorb this new information. You had a million questions and had no idea where to even start, but it didn't matter because his phone ringing on the table cut you off.

Without thinking, your eyes locked onto the screen. Molly.

"Shit," he murmured, standing and picking up his phone. "I gotta take this. Do you mind?"

"No, go right ahead," you said airily, then watched him throw his jacket over his arm and head outside. Your mouth twisted around nervously as you watched him pace back and forth through the window, smiling and laughing while he talked on the phone.

Didn't seem like a work call. So who the hell was Molly?

"Molly... Alice... popular guy," you muttered under your breath.

Didn't matter. It wasn't a date and you were not interested in seeing Dave after the day was over.

Really. You weren't.

"Sorry," he said once he breezed back inside at the exact same time your food arrived.

"Work?" you couldn't help but ask. You kept your eyes on your plate so he wouldn't see your jealousy flaring up unwillingly.

"Uh... no," he said, then quickly changed the subject. "You never told me what you do for work?"

It was a sufficient enough distraction. While you ate, you explained your job in advertising. How the long hours, endless meetings, and greasy takeout were all worth it when you pitched a perfect idea to a client and you saw that look on their face. The one where they were thrilled with your work that would then have them eagerly signing a contract. Every single one pushed you higher and higher up the corporate ladder. You already had a corner office and a penthouse downtown, but you were always looking for the next big sale. You explained to Dave that the money and promotions didn't mean much anymore. It was the thrill and the payoff that made it so rewarding.

"Uh, sorry," you cringed, "I didn't realize I had been talking for so long." Your plates were empty and Dave had been leaning forward with his hand curled in his drink, hanging on your every word.

"Don't be sorry. Sounds like you really love your job."

"I do, but I never get any time for a life," you admitted sadly. You stared down at your glass, swirling the straw around the mostly melted ice. "This was my first vacation in six years."

Dave's eyes widened in shock. "Six years? And you chose to come... here?"

"What? It's cute here!" you protested with a laugh. "I wanted the full Christmas experience."

He huffed and shook his head. "Well, you came to the right place, I guess. There's a parade tomorrow afternoon with Santa and real reindeer-"

He stopped himself short and cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. "I mean, if you wanted to go. Everyone in town kind of goes."

"Are you asking me out on another non-date?" you teased with a grin, but Dave pressed his lips together and swallowed tightly.

"Uh, no. I can't - I - I'm busy."

"But you just said everyone in town goes," you replied, smile slipping from your face.

He sighed and bit the inside of his cheek.

"This is awkward," he began, and a heavy feeling suddenly filled your chest. "I'm going to the parade but... I'm going with someone else."

"Oh," you said softly. He's a rebound, doesn't mean anything. "That's ... fine."

It wasn't fine. It hurt, and you were doing your best to hide it.

"Listen-"

"Why don't we just get going?" you asked with a tight smile. Dave's eyes softened as he scanned your face, desperately trying to come up with the right thing to say. "Seriously, it's fine. We talked about this, remember?" you laughed, then stood up to tug your coat back on. Slowly, Dave rose from his chair to copy you.

The walk back to his car was tense. You had no idea what to say. It shouldn't matter, you made your wishes very clear, yet despite yourself, it still really fucking mattered. And in the short ride back to the cabin, you broke.

"Are you married? Tell me fast," you said completely out of the blue. His mouth fell open in shock but he kept his eyes on the road.

"No. No, I'm not married."

"Girlfriend, then? Or, girlfriends?"

"What?" he hissed, then you tossed your hands up in the air in defeat.

"Alice... Molly... how many are there?" you snapped, voice rising the angrier you got.

Dave took a deep breath and gripped the wheel tightly.

"Alice and Molly are my... daughters," he finally said, voice a little strained. You completely forgot how to breathe. You sat in a stunned silence as he drove the rest of the way down the street and pulled into the driveway of the cabin, and only once he threw the car in park did he look at you.

"Daughters?" you repeated. He nodded.

"They're ten and twelve."

"O-oh, my god," you whispered. "I'm sorry, Jesus Christ why wouldn't you tell me?"

Dave shrugged and looked through the windshield at the empty cabin. When it became apparent he wasn't going to answer, you continued.

"I told you about my ex and about my life - Dave, why wouldn't you just tell me you're divorced? I wouldn't have cared."

"I don't bring women home to them," he said suddenly. You clamped your mouth shut, falling silent and giving him a chance to speak. "And I'm not divorced. I'm... widowed," he added, choking on the last word. His gaze fell down to stare at his lap. "I just try to protect them, you know? I try to keep my private life separate unless I know it's real 'cause they've already been through too much, I can't put them through losing someone else."

He had a point. And you had repeatedly dropped hints throughout the day that you were not interested in anything further with him and nothing you did that afternoon was to be considered a date.

So why was your throat so tight and why did your heart ache so badly in your chest?

Two days passed. Forty-eight hours where you spent pacing around your rented out cabin, trying to distract yourself with books while wrestling with your feelings over Dave.

It was impossible to ignore. You liked him. You couldn't stop thinking about him; the way he held your hand, the private little smiles he reserved just for you, the way he held you close the night you spent together... your thoughts were utterly and completely absorbed with Dave. And you had a feeling he liked you, too. Why else would he have wanted to spend the day with you? You had already fucked. Most men would have hightailed it out of there at first light. And to take you to the bar where he knew his drinking buddies would see you? That must have meant something.

You almost went to the parade just to possibly catch a glimpse of him but you backed out at the last second. Dave said he didn't want to introduce his girls to any women in his life to protect them, and you had to respect that. The last thing you knew you should do was surprise him with his family at the parade. No, that certainly wouldn't have gone over well at all.

Now, it was Christmas Eve. You didn't even have his number to text him Merry Christmas. So, after too many hours overanalyzing every little thing, you came up with a plan: you would go to the bar with the book you had promised him under the guise of wanting to get it to him before you left for Chicago.

As far as plans went, it was a pretty good one. It was feasible and a realistic excuse. But wouldn't he be spending Christmas Eve with his daughters? You shook the thought from your head. You didn't even know where he lived. Short of contacting Sandy and asking, this was your only plan. It had to work. It had to.

After spending over an hour getting ready and trying to quiet your nerves, you slipped on your leather jacket and adjusted your scarf in the mirror to make it look just right. You sighed and snatched the book from the couch, marching to the front door while murmuring under your breath over and over, I can do this.

But when you swung open the door to reveal Dave standing on the other side with his fist poised to knock, all your confidence flew straight out the window.

"Oh," you breathed. He dropped his hand to the side and gave you a small smile.

"Hey."

"Hi," you whispered, still stricken with disbelief that he was standing before you out of nowhere. Then you blinked rapidly a few times and stepped back. "Want to come in?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," he said, slipping off his shoes and coat before his gaze slid down your frame, noticing your outerwear. "You're heading out, I'm sorry. This won't take long."

"No, actually, I'm-"

What? What were you supposed to say? You were very clearly about to walk out the door. You chewed your bottom lip nervously as you shrugged off your scarf and jacket, then rolled your eyes to yourself. Fuck it.

"I was going to try to find you, actually," you blurted out. Dave's eyes shot up to meet yours from his place next to the fire.

"You were?"

You nodded and took a few steps closer. When you remembered you were still holding the book, you held it out for him.

"I promised you this," you said softly. He glanced down at the book and gingerly took it from you. "I was going to see if you were at the bar but then I thought you might be with your girls tonight."

"They're with their grandparents," Dave murmured. He placed the book down gently and looked up at you once again.

"Oh. Right."

A long silence stretched between you, each waiting for the other to speak with only the sound of a crackling fire to fill the air.

You caved first.

"Why did you come here, Dave?"

He exhaled slowly and his shoulders sagged, looking like he had just been through battle.

"I came here because-"

He stopped and took a deep breath. Propping his hands on his hips, he let out a dry laugh and shook his head, like he couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"I know you were very clear about what you wanted," he began. The smile slowly melted as his nerves took over. "And I was, too. But - goddamnit."

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger while you shifted anxiously from foot to foot, hoping and praying he was trying to say what you wanted him to say.

"But you want something more?" you offered timidly. His hand dropped to his side and he nodded sheepishly.

"I can't get you out of my head," he confessed with a pained expression. Your pulse spiked and your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You wanted to run into his arms but you also desperately wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I can't stop thinking about you. I know it's crazy, believe me," Dave scoffed. "And I know you just got out of a relationship. I sure as hell know I have my own baggage. But - I don't know. Is this stupid?"

He looked so adorable, all distraught and standing there in front of your fire wearing dark jeans and an ugly blue sweatshirt with a massive snowflake on it. A smile tugged at your lips.

"Nice sweater."

He blinked and looked down.

"Alice got it for me for Christmas last year."

"Hm. Well, maybe next time I can take her shopping. We've got some nicer stores in Chicago. Find something a little more suited to you," you said playfully. His eyes lit up as he slowly connected the dots. "That is, if you're willing to visit with them sometime," you added quickly.

"Yeah," he breathed, then chuckled before he closed the distance and pulled you in for a deep kiss. You smiled against his lips, feeling elated and confused and still not entirely sure if you were dreaming or not.

"How will this work?" you gasped when he finally pulled away for air. Dave kept his hands firmly planted where they were; cupping your face while gazing down at you in wonder.

"I'm in Chicago a lot," he reminded you before peppering your face with kisses. You giggled and wrapped your arms tighter around his middle. "Maybe you can come here sometimes. It'll work. We'll figure it out."

You wiggled out of his grasp and took his hand. Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you began to slowly walk backwards towards your bedroom, pulling him along with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"What are you doing for New Year's?" you asked.

Dave smirked as his free hand found your waist. He slid his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, brushing over the soft skin of your hip when he said, "I have the girls for New Year's."

You tugged him into the bedroom, both of you laughing softly at your enthusiasm. And right before his lips found yours again, you whispered, "Sounds perfect."

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#dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york #the equalizer 2 fanfic #the equalizer #christmas prompts

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 2 months ago

Text

a/n: fic for #13 on the 13th! i love mat and squeaks so much and the fact that you guys love them so much too just makes my heart expand like the grinch’s 🤍 they’re my favorites to write for and i hope you guys enjoy this one! so much more mat and squeaks to come 🥰

word count: 6.4k

tw: mentions of past miscarriages, mentions of fertility issues, anxiety, mentions of vomiting, pregnancy and all that goes along with it

summary: you and mat have an early christmas gift for talia (and inadvertently, the rest of the family too)

It’s way too early in the morning, cold and dark outside when Mat finds you in the bathroom, head in the toilet while you vomit. He gathers back your hair in a fist and brushes the stray wisps off your forehead. Otherwise, he’s quiet, just providing support for you.

You finish with one last dry heave and he holds your hand while you get shakily to your feet, leaning your free hand on the countertop. He keeps a hand solid on your lower back while fishing out a miniature bag of oyster crackers from a drawer in the vanity and sliding the Listerine bottle closer to you.

One swish of mouthwash and a few oyster crackers later, you’re feeling better. Not even close to perfect or normal, but better.

Mat opens his arms for you to step in and lean your cheek against his shoulder. His arms wrap around your upper back and yours loop to rest at his lower back. He’s warm and smells like the bergamont and lime Aesop soap bar in your shower and Tide laundry detergent, a little like animal crackers too, which is probably leftover from Talia waking up after he got home from Toronto the night before and making him come lay in her bed with her until she fell back asleep. Of course, Mat had fallen asleep in the too-small bed, the both of them snoring quietly when you left your bed to go find him.

“Lucky number thirteen,” he mumbles against the top of your head. His breath ruffles your hair and you snuggle closer to his chest. The worn fabric of his undershirt is soft against your cheek.

“And three days,” you reply, stomach flipping slightly. Whether it’s nausea or anxiety, you’re not sure. Likely a healthy combination of both.

“And three days,” Mat agrees. His hands rub circles over your back and you’re soothed enough that you could go back to sleep. Too bad you have a million things to do today, things to check off your list with only three days to go before Christmas.

“Maybe we should wait,” you say after a beat of comfortable silence. “Maybe we should wait for fourteen or fifteen weeks. It’s longer.”

It’s safer, you think but don’t say.

Thirteen weeks is longer than any of your past pregnancies too, other than Talia’s. But it still feels so early and so fragile. You’re trying so hard to be excited, and you are, but that excitement is tamped down by fear and anxiety.

Mat kisses the crown of your head. “Doctor said everything looked really good last week. And you’ve still got morning sickness, which you —“ He cuts himself off, but you know what he was going to say.

‘Which you didn’t with the last few’ - your symptoms had disappeared so early and you thought it was a blessing, that you weren’t vomiting every morning, that you weren’t as tired as you’d been with Talia. Turned out to be nightmare after nightmare.

But you nod against his chest, feeling grateful for the morning sickness that’s shown no sign of stopping, as long as it means a happy, healthy baby in just over six months. June can’t come soon enough.

“We can wait to tell T,” Mat continues, picking up as if he hadn’t stopped mid-sentence. “If you want. But Doctor Harmon said we were okay to start telling people and I think she’ll really like that Christmas present.”

At a delightfully hilarious five and a half, Talia’s been asking about a sibling pretty consistently for two or so years now. Especially after hanging around the team and seeing all the siblings in action. You know she’ll be thrilled for a baby brother or sister and that’s what worries you a little. If it goes badly, if it ends like the others, it’s not just yours and Mat’s heartbreak. It’s Talia’s too.

And you can handle your heartbreak, but you never want Talia to experience that.

“I can hear you thinking,” Mat chuckles, squeezing you closer to his chest. “I know you’re worried, I am too. But how can we let that perfectly wrapped present go to waste?”

His joke lands and you giggle, knowing the box hidden under your bed with Talia’s gift is wrapped with messy corners and too much tape, a Mat Barzal specialty. He’d insisted on wrapping the gift, “contributing to the process” since you were keeping the real present all bubble wrapped and safe in your womb.

“Okay, yes, yeah,” you repeat a few times, convincing yourself. “Let’s tell T and just…just enjoy the ride.”

Just enjoying the ride is something you’d worked really hard on in therapy the last few years, some days easier than others - the pile of ratty Moleskine journals hidden away in your closet full of your every thought from the past five years, good and bad. The newest one, coincidentally started on the day you’d gotten a positive pregnancy test, is already a quarter full of your up and down thoughts and scribbles.

“That’s my girl,” Mat’s hands cup your cheeks, tilting your face up so he can kiss you, even as you protest, reminding him of your vomit breath. He laughs as he kisses you anyway, mumbling, “minty,” against your mouth.

You shake your head at him, smiling. He squeezes your cheek and guides you back into the bedroom, flipping the light switch off. You settle on the bed, dragging a pillow into your lap and watch Mat start to get dressed even though it’s so early.

“I’ve got practice at 9:30,” he says, voice muffled as he pulls his undershirt over his head. You unashamedly watch his stomach muscles work, ogling his chest even though your libido is temporarily dead and buried. “We can wake T up and tell her before I go or we can do it when I get back.”

“When are you getting back?” You wrap a blanket around your shoulders, smothering a yawn in the fabric. A wave of exhaustion hits and you blink slowly. It’s too early for you to be awake on a normal day, but the extra pregnancy hormones have you both exhausted and unable to sleep. There’s no chance you’ll go back to bed, not when you have to finish getting the house ready for your Christmas guests.

Mat shrugs. “Depends. But probably around eleven, eleven thirty?”

He rummages through his drawers for a pair of sweats and you remind him that he has to go and pick up both sets of parents and Liana from the airport in the afternoon. “So maybe we should tell her now?” You chew at your thumbnail.

Fully dressed in casual athleisure for his drive to the practice rink, Mat nods and reaches over to pull your thumb away from your mouth. You scowl at him.

“I’ll go wake her up,” he laughs. “Even though she definitely could use some more sleep.”

You wave him off. “She’ll nap when you’re gone,” you reply. “Unless, of course, she wants to help me get the house ready.”

Mat raises an eyebrow at you, laughs, and heads down to Talia’s room. You grin at his retreating back and get up to rinse your mouth with Listerine again and give your teeth a good brush. You always feel gross after vomiting. Once you feel fresher and more awake, you change out of your sweaty pajamas and into a Christmas-appropriate dark green waffle knit lounge set. You feel much more human with real clothes on and you pat your stomach, a faint outward curve already forming between your hipbones.

This pregnancy is showing quicker than all the others, physical proof that you’re holding onto for your sanity.

“Mommy,” Talia’s whine precedes her and you smile automatically when you see Mat come back into your room with Talia curled up in his arms. Her face is buried in his neck and her dark curls are wild with bedhead. One leg of her cartoon Grinch patterned pajama bottoms is pushed halfway up her skinny calf and her arms are locked around Mat’s neck, her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, bunching it between his shoulders.

“Hi, baby,” you reply quietly, reaching out your arms for her. Mat transfers her to your lap and she curls up like a little cat, her cheek squished against your breast. “Daddy woke you up, huh?”

You smooth back her hair, the soft scent of her watermelon L’Oreal Kids shampoo wafting up to your nose. The French braid you’d tied her hair into last night is a wreck and you know she’ll complain when you have to brush out the knots later. But right now she’s so soft and sweet with sleep, seeming much younger than her five and a half years. You trace the tip of your finger over the slope of her nose and she wrinkles it at your touch, face relaxing again almost instantly.

“He said I had a s’prise,” she mumbles, blinking up at you. “But Christmas isn’t today.”

“Nope,” you agree and the mattress dips when Mat sits down next to you. “Christmas is in three days, but Daddy and I do have a gift for you early.”

That perks her right up, predictably. Talia blinks like a little meerkat, scrambling to sit up on your lap. She looks over at Mat, who’s grinning widely, and then back up at you.

“A gift before Christmas?” She asks, her ‘s’ whistling a little from the space left behind from the front baby tooth she’d lost a few days ago. “How come?”

Mat pulls the box out from under the bed and places it on Talia’s lap. “Because it’s a special gift and we wanted to give it to you early, since you’ve been such an awesome kid all year,” Mat says and you can hear the slight tremble in his voice. It reminds you that all of your fertility issues and miscarriages weren’t just hard on you, they were hard on Mat and he was a rock throughout everything, no matter what you threw at him emotionally. You reach out and squeeze his knee, giving him a small smile. He returns it with a wink.

Talia pokes her fingers into the corner of the wrapping paper, her sparkly nail polish catching in the light, and gives Mat an impish little smile. “Daddy wrapped this,” she says. “The corners are all wrinkly.”

You laugh at the roast and Mat’s jaw drops in fake outrage.

“They are not!” He yelps, reaching out to tickle Talia’s sides. She shrieks and wiggles, laughter echoing around the room.

“No! No, Daddy! Stop tickling!” She shrieks between gasping laughter and Mat relents, laughing too as he leans back into his spot. Talia’s hair is even messier, her cheeks flushed from laughter, and you can’t wait to have another one running around the house. A lump of emotion clogs your throat.

“I don’t like tickling,” she grumbles adorably and Mat apologies. Talia forgives him and pulls at the paper on her gift again. “Can I open now?”

You and Mat both nod and Talia wastes no time in ripping into the paper. Scraps go flying and Mat gathers them up, crumpling the paper in a ball that he tosses back and forth between his hands. Talia stops briefly when she sees the gift box and then tosses the lid off the side of the bed. You roll your eyes slightly at her dramatics, but then she’s pulling the sweater out of its tissue paper and laying it over your legs.

“What’s it say?” She cocks her head. Immediately, she recognizes the first word, “big,” and then starts sounding out the next, “si-sis-sister?”

You’re holding your breath while she sounds it out, your heart pounding when she wrinkles her nose and repeats, “big sister?”

Talia looks at you and then Mat, frowning while the wheels turn in her head. It takes a second and she repeats, “big sister? Me?” pointing at herself. Her eyebrows lift on her forehead.

Mat nods and you grin at her, “you’re going to be a big sister, love bug.”

It’s a surprise when Talia bursts into loud, hiccuping sobs and you’re caught unprepared. Tears stream down her face and she chokes for air, holding the sweater in a death grip, turning her knuckles white. Mat looks at you, wide-eyed and terrified of Talia’s reaction, until she wails, “I always wanted a baby!”

“Oh,” you cuddle her close, stroking her hair and letting her cry and snot all over your shirt. “Oh, my baby, I know. You’re overwhelmed. It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay.”

“I get a baby?” She asks and you nod even though she can’t see you. Tears well up in your eyes.

Mat’s hand rubs circles on her back and he’s whispering quietly to her, inaudible over the blood rushing in your ears.

“You’re going to have a sibling, love bug,” you say into her hair, choking on your own overwhelming emotion. “It’s really big news, right?”

Talia nods against you and you hear her blow her nose against your shirt. It’s gross, but you don’t mind.

She keeps wailing, crying happy tears and mumbling about how she always wanted a baby sibling like all of her friends. It cracks your heart and mends it all at once, knowing how long she’s waited and how happy she is to be finally getting a built-in best friend.

Tears drip down your cheeks and you feel Mat’s hand on your back, pulling you close. You and Talia are folded into Mat’s embrace, his palms cupping each of your heads to keep you close. Her cries settle down to a few sniffles and eventually she pulls back from your chest to look up at you.

Her big hazel eyes, Mat’s eyes, are red rimmed and still watery. You push damp strands of hair off her cheeks and kiss her forehead.

“I’m so happy, Mommy,” she says simply, lunging to throw her arms around your neck and squeeze you in a hug.

“I’m so happy too, TB,” you reply, the easiest and most honest words you’ve ever said.

Mat, never one to be left out, laughs and chimes in, “I bet you’re not as happy as me.” He kisses the top of Talia’s head, ruffling her hair. You can see a suspiciously wet shine to his eyes.

Talia leans from your lap to Mat’s, hugging his neck to tight it almost looks painful. “Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head. “I’m the happiest. I’m the happiest cause it’s my baby.”

“Hey,” you tickle her sides lightly, “it’s mine and Daddy’s baby too.”

She shrugs and grabs for her sweater again, yanking it on over her head. She pushes her hair out of her eyes with the backs of her hands, looking for all the world like an electrocuted mad scientist. “I’m gonna wear this forever and tell everyone I’m a big sister like Reese and Winnie,” she announces proudly, a huge missing-toothed smile splitting her face.

Her smile melts your heart and she starts rolling around on the bed, chanting “big sister, big sister,” to make you and Mat laugh.

You lean against Mat’s chest, his hands coming to rest on your stomach. He whispers in your ear, “I’m so glad we told her.”

“Me too,” you murmur back. Talia rolls back over to you and smooshes her face up against your stomach and Mat’s hands.

“My baby’s in there?” She asks and without waiting for an answer, kisses your stomach and says, “hi baby, I’m Talia. I’m your big sister and I love you.”

And that’s all it takes for your waterworks to start, tears flowing free and fast, to the point where Talia looks a little spooked and Mat has to shepard her downstairs for breakfast while you follow along a few minutes later, still sniffling and wiping at your eyes.

Mat serves you up a plate of pancakes, plain and no syrup to be easier on your stomach, and you kiss his cheek in return. He looks incredulous, “I make celebration pancakes and I only get a kiss on the cheek? Wow, Squeaks, wow.”

You roll your eyes at him and plant a dramatic, loud kiss on his lips, making Talia giggle over her own pancakes. There’s already a smudge of chocolate on her Big Sister sweater’s collar and you can’t help but smile.

Mat’s off to practice a little bit later and then it’s just you and Talia since school is already closed for the two-week break. She’s surprisingly clingy while you get the guest rooms ready for everyone, following at your heels with a handful of Calico Critters clutched in each palm.

She asks a million questions about the baby - when is it coming? Is it a boy or a girl? Is it gonna live in her room? Can we name it Sparky? (Late June, it’s going to be a surprise just like she was, it will live first in yours and Mat’s room and then will get its own room, and no. Definitely not.)

You flip through the pile of Christmas cards that have gone unopened for a few days, enjoying looking through the family pictures sent by all the wives and girlfriends you’ve made friends with throughout the years. A particularly cute family photo of Matthew Tkachuk, his wife, and their son makes you smile. Talia climbs up on a stool to look at the cards with you, pointing out each player that she knows and recognizes.

(“Mommy, did we send a card of me?” “Yes, baby, remember when you took a picture with us and Santa at Daddy’s work? We sent that one out.” “Oh, we should’ve sent the picture of me and Minnie at Disney ‘cause I looked real cute in that, Nana said so.”)

At some point, Talia dumps the Calico Critters back in their designated box and picks up her Bitty Baby, carrying it around and hugging it tightly. The sight makes you wobbly, praying silently that this is the baby that stays.

Mat comes home from practice, wet hair shoved under his Stadium Series beanie, and barely drops his keys before he’s swooping Talia up into his arms and blowing raspberries on her cheeks. He’s got a giddy energy that isn’t just from a good practice.

“Big sister, ready to head to the airport in a little bit?” He asks, gamely accepting the minor blow to the head from a plastic Bitty Baby leg.

“Yes!” Talia shouts. “Let’s go now!”

You chime in, “you’d be so early! There’s still about two hours until the planes land. That’s four episodes of Bluey,” you add, anticipating Talia’s next question.

She frowns, but shrugs and tells Mat, “Mommy said we can’t name my baby Sparky. I like Sparky.”

Mat grins at you and winks. To Talia, he says, “how about we work on it? There’s a long time to come up with a good name.”

You know Talia’s likely not going to give up on Sparky, but over the next hour she offers up Princess Jasmine, Tweety Bird, and Bingo as alternatives. Every time she refers to it as “my baby” though, you feel like you could cry again. Mat was right, telling her was a really good idea.

Until it comes time for them to leave for the airport and you have to tell her, gently but firmly, not to spill the beans. You zip up her jacket, hiding the words on the sweater she still refuses to take off. She’d even refused the option to put another sweater over it. This kid.

“But I wanna tell ‘em,” she whines, batting at the hat you try to pull over her head.

“We will tell everyone,” you assure her, winning the battle. The knit cap is snug over her ears, flattening her dark hair against her forehead. She looks adorably grumpy, a miniature replica of Mat. “But Mommy and Daddy want to surprise them with a Christmas present, okay? It’s our secret. Can you promise?”

Talia hums and bounces from foot to foot, considering. You cross your fingers that she gets it.

“I guess,” she relents, grabbing up a Princess Jasmine doll in one hand and an Aladdin doll in the other. Bitty Baby has been relegated to her crib for a nap that’s lasted more than an hour and you’re nearly jealous of a baby doll.

Mat appears in the front hall with his car keys jangling and a grin on his face. “Ready to go, TB?”

She bounces around, nodding and chanting “yes yes yes” in response to Mat’s question.

You giggle and pat her on the butt. “Save that energy for the game tomorrow,” you tease, getting to your feet and holding the door open. It’s starting to flurry a bit, the light flakes swirling in the air prettily. Mat kisses you quickly on his way out, nudging Talia between the shoulder blades to get her moving.

“Bye, Mommy!” She shouts, waving over her shoulder. “Bye, Baby Sparky!”

You wave at them, closing the door just after watching Mat swing Talia around before opening the car door for her to climb inside.

By some Christmas miracle, all three incoming flights - your parents from North Carolina, Mat’s parents from Vancouver, and Liana from London - were scheduled to land within ten minutes of each other, so Mat only had to make one trip to LaGuardia.

He glides the Defender easily into an open spot at the Arrivals curb, praying that the trip from baggage claim to the car doesn’t take everyone that long.

“Remember,” he turns around in his seat, lowering the volume on the Disney Princess medley soundtrack Talia had insisted on, “Baby Sparky is a secret. So don’t tell everyone okay?”

“Okay, but what if I just told LeeLee?” She says, not looking at Mat, but playing with her dolls. “And then you and Mommy can tell everyone else.”

“No,” Mat laughs, despite himself. “You can’t tell LeeLee. Don’t say anything, okay, Tals?”

Talia shrugs and agrees. “Okay, I won’t say anythin’ about Baby Sparky.”

Mat reaches his hand out for a high five and Talia slaps his palm enthusiastically. She makes Mat turn the music back up while they wait and sings happily along to ‘Part of Your World’ until Mat’s phone vibrates with a text and he grins.

“Take a look out the window, T,” he says, pointing towards the airport. “We’ve got some visitors.”

Talia shrieks happily, kicking her legs and waving wildly at her grandparents and aunt as the five of them come into sight. Liana waves wildly back, making a silly face for good measure.

Mat gets out of the car to help with the luggage, accepting a hug and kiss from both moms. Liana punches his arm and then gives him a one-armed hug before helping him with the luggage at the trunk. They both wave off the parents for their help and gesture for them to get in the car.

“Hi Nana and hi Pop and hi Grandma and hi Grandpa,” Talia chirps excitedly as they all get in the car, in one breath in the way only little kids can manage. She tilts her cheek up to get kisses from her grandmothers as they climb into the third row of the car.

“Hi Talia,” Nadia grins, tweaking her cheek.

“Hi, sweetie,” your mom replies, cupping Talia’s chin between her thumb and index finger. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Hey, TB,” Liana calls from the back of the car, hoisting her suitcase into the trunk. “No hellos for your favorite aunt?”

Talia wiggles around in her booster seat to wave at Liana. “LeeLee! Did you know I’m gonna be a big sister?” She shouts the question and Mat freezes.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly, remaining extremely still as all five family members turn to look at him. He gives his mother an awkward grin. All three women are aware of the issues you’ve had in the past, he knows. Liana especially since you’d confided everything in her during her visits and on multiple phone calls. When you couldn’t or wouldn’t talk to Mat, he was just grateful that you had Liana at least to confide in.

“Mat?” Nadia prods him for a response.

“Yeah!” Talia continues, oblivious. “Mommy said we can’t name the baby Sparky, but I wanna call it Sparky anyway.”

“Oh my god!” Liana yelps, reaching out to shake Mat’s arm. “Seriously?” She does a little dance in place.

Mat nods, laughing a little. “Yeah, seriously. We told T this morning, but,” he shoots the kindergartener a playful glare, “she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone yet.”

Talia’s still oblivious, chattering happily to her grandfathers, both of whom have huge grins on their faces. The moms are wiping away tears in the third row, reaching over into the trunk to hug Mat awkwardly.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you guys,” your mom sobs, overwhelmed.

Mat accepts the huge hug Liana forces on him and finishes getting the bags in the trunk, the honking already starting from other cars waiting at the curb.

Once everyone’s in the car, Liana wedged in the middle seat and already starting to entertain Talia, Mat lowers the music and whistles to get attention on him.

“Look, T wasn’t supposed to tell you guys about the baby,” he says, easing out into traffic. “We wanted to do something special on Christmas, so if you could all pretend that you know nothing, that would be very helpful.”

Your mom sighs from the third row. “It’s going to be so hard to pretend,” she tells Nadia, who agrees. They’d both been discussing a baby shower, which Mat definitely thinks is a little premature, but he can’t blame them for being excited. He’s beyond happy himself.

“I get that,” he replies. “I really do. But remember, I’ve got a fragile, hormonal pregnant wife and she really wanted to surprise you all. Please play along and ignore Talia.”

“Hey!” Talia pipes up, abandoning her doll to Liana’s lap. “It’s mean to ignore, Daddy!”

Mat catches her eye in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, TB. But you did promise Mommy not to mention the baby and here we are.”

Talia squints at him, scrunching her face up and making Liana laugh at the expression. She pouts and kicks at the back of Mat’s seat. “I was excited, Daddy! I was so excited I cried, ‘member?” She grumbles.

Liana tugs at one of her dark curls. “Yeah, she couldn’t help herself, Mat,” she teases. “We’ll all be on our best behavior, promise.”

There’s no doubt in Mat’s mind that the five adults in the car will absolutely ruin the surprise the second they get home, but he crosses his fingers and hopes anyway.

Traffic is light, surprisingly, and you’re waiting at the door when Mat pulls into the driveway less than two hours after he left. You wave as everyone piles out of the car, catching Talia in your arms when she runs up to you.

“Mommy! LeeLee said she brought me sou-soubeniers?” She yelps.

“Souvenirs,” you correct gently, helping her out of her jacket and frowning when you see the sweater you’d forgotten she was wearing. “Go wash your hands, baby.”

Talia scampers off and you hope that buys you a little time to get her changed before everyone sees.

Your parents and in-laws parade into the house, all four of them giving you extra tight hugs and kisses on the cheek. Your dad murmurs that it’s good to see you and Mike gives you a wide smile, hugging you for a moment longer than usual.

Nadia cups your cheeks in her hands and just looks at you for a few seconds before shaking her head and pulling you back in for a second hug. Strange.

Something prickles at the back of your neck and when your mom greets you with watery eyes, you know exactly what happened.

Liana shoots you a delighted smirk, wrapping one arm around you in a hug as she passes. “Merry Christmas,” she beams, kissing your cheek.

Mat is last, dragging suitcases behind him and wearing a sheepish expression. You hold the door open for him and deadpan, “blabbermouth junior told everyone, didn’t she?”

“Literally the second they got in the car,” Mat admits. To his credit, he doesn’t try and lie.

“I should’ve known,” you laugh, following him into the house. Your mom already has Talia on her hip, Big Sister sweater proudly front and center as she demonstrates to the grandparents that she can read the words. They all look up guiltily at you and you just laugh more. “Spoilsport ruined the news,” you say, flattening your hand on your stomach, “but Baby Barzal should be here in June. God willing.”

The sudden cheer overwhelms you and gets you teary eyed again before you’re enveloped in a hug that nearly smothers you. Mat’s grinning at you from the safety of the fridge, until he gets accosted by the moms. He pats them on the back, laughing.

After the excitement of the news, you fall into your usual visit routine - changing out of airplane clothes and placing an order from the Italian place that everyone loves before settling into the den to catch up.

“I was going to give you guys these on Christmas,” you start the sentence before you disappear upstairs and return with three boxes in your arms. “But might as well do it now.”

Talia whips her head around, abandoning the bag of pretzels she’d dug out of the pantry and is sharing with your dad and Mike. “More presents? For me?” She asks, clambering over the arm of the couch to fall into Nadia’s lap and poke at the wrapped gift. “Oh, Mommy wrapped this. It’s so pretty. It event has a ribbon,” she chirps, stroking the velvet bow loops.

“Ooh,” Liana laughs at Mat, “burned by your own kid.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Mat rolls his eyes at his sister and when he’s sure Talia’s distracted, flips her off.

“Behave,” Nadia chastises, tone firm even though she’s smiling. Talia’s already pulling the paper away from the box in her lap and Nadia lets her continue.

You curl up against Mat’s side and watch everyone open their gifts - Polaroid shaped Christmas ornaments with the baby’s sonogram in the little photo spot, Coming Soon scrawled in cursive over the bottom of it.

It would’ve been nice to surprise everyone on Christmas morning, but there’s something even nicer about doing it now. With everyone relaxed and excited and able to really enjoy the moment without the chaos of presents and breakfast and stockings.

“Wait?” Talia squints at the sonogram. She pokes her finger against the black and white image. “Is that my baby?”

“Mhm,” you hum watching your mom explain exactly which blurry blob is the baby. “That’s the first ever picture of the baby.”

“Do I have a picture like that?” She asks, appropriating Nadia and Mike’s ornament for herself and lying across their laps while she studies the image.

Mat nods. “Tons of them,” he replies. “We can show you later, if you want.”

She hums distractedly and you let the grandparents take over for a bit, spoiling her and distracting her while you relax against Mat’s side, his hand snaking down to rest on your stomach under your shirt. His palm is warm and dry and his fingers draw absent shapes against your skin. He turns the fireplace on from his phone and the room gets cozier, full of noise and laughter and joy.

It’s the best start to Christmas week that you could’ve ever imagined.

And it turns out that everyone knowing about the baby early is a blessing in disguise, because your mom and Nadia don’t let you do a single thing the next day. They get breakfast ready for everyone and the dads get the sidewalks and cars clean from the few inches of snow that had fallen over night.

You try to help, but are shooed away to the couch to rest. Liana and Talia join you intermittently. Your baby curls up on your lap with her Bitty Baby, listening as Liana fills you in on her love life in code that goes over Talia’s head.

Mat’s gone most of the day for morning skate and is back for his pre-game nap before disappearing again around 3:30.

Talia insists on wearing her Big Sister sweater again, but the combined powers of Liana and your mom work to get her to put an Islanders jersey over it for the game. The adults are decked out in gear too and you go for comfort over style in an oversized henley and vest with leggings. Your nod to team spirit is your custom Islander Nikes.

Since the whole family is there and it’s the last game before the holiday break, Mat sprung for a suite and you’re grateful for it because you can relax and not have to worry about Talia slipping away.

Periodically, the other girls pop in to join you and as much as you try to keep her distracted, Talia announces your news to everyone that stops in, chirping, “I’m gonna be a big sister!” with a big, chocolate smudged grin and a few bunny hops.

You’ve never been excitedly screamed at and hugged in your entire life, a permanent grin making your face hurt by the time the second is halfway done.

Mat finishes the game with a trip to the penalty box, a goal, two assist, and the team wins. Maxine Nightingale fills the arena and Talia shimmies along to the chorus, cheering for Mat as he’s announced as the first star and skates over to chat with Shannon.

“Congrats on the win,” Shannon grins and Talia hangs over the glass, waving at Mat. You hold the back of her jersey in a tight fist, ignoring the way your stomach swoops with anxiety every time she lunges forward.

“Thanks, Shannon,” Mat’s face is larger than life on the screen and his smile is megawatt. “Feels really good to get the two points at home.”

Shannon laughs and nods, “I bet! And with these two points and the Ranger loss last night, the Islanders are heading into the holiday break at the top of the Metro. Just another thing to celebrate, right?”

“Oh yeah!” Mat’s lips curl up in a cock smirk that has your dormant sex drive sparking slightly. “A lot to celebrate this year,” he looks up at the suites and you swear he makes eye contact with you, his smile growing more genuine. “Just really glad to get the win with my family here.”

“I’m sure they’re all waiting to start the holiday celebrations with you, Merry Christmas, Mat,” Shannon smiles and the interview ends with Mat wishing her the same and heading off down the tunnel.

“Bye, Daddy!!!” Talia shouts out, waving.

You snatch her back from the glass and she pouts at you briefly before skipping over to Liana to mooch some M&M’s off of her.

“Are we heading home before Mat or did you want to see him?” You ask, sitting down on one of the couches outside the suite. A yawn catches in the back of your throat and your mom brushes her hand over the top of your head. You lean into her touch like a cat, warmed by her affection.

“Let us take you home, baby,” she replies. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m okay,” you assure her, passing Liana a baby wipe from your bag so she can wipe the chocolate off of Talia’s face. “T likes to see Mat after the games, so we can all meet him out at the garage and split into the two cars.”

“I wanna see Daddy and Uncle Bo and Noah,” Talia calls out, wriggling away from Liana and the baby wipe she’s wielding.

“Jesus, stay still TB, you’ve got a chocolate five o’clock shadow,” Liana laughs.

Mat is waiting for you downstairs, immediately scooping Talia up and giving her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “My good luck charms!” He grins, hair damp.

“Daddy, where’s Noah?” Talia drapes herself over Mat’s shoulder, looking around for her favorite defenseman. “I wanna show him my sweater.”

“You already showed Alexa,” you remind her. “She’ll

show Noah the picture you posed for. And remember, you’re going to see everyone at Aunt Syd and Uncle Matt’s Christmas Eve party tomorrow.”

Somehow you manage to get Talia in her car seat in Mat’s car, the rest of the Barzals going with Mat too and leaving you to drive home with your parents. Mat kisses your forehead before he gets into the driver’s seat of his car and tells you to be safe.

You nod and end up in the back seat of your own car when your dad insists on driving home. You’re grateful for it, honestly, slumping against the door and yawning. It’s been a long day and you’re definitely ready to head to bed.

“I’m so happy for you, baby,” your mom murmurs over the Christmas music playing on the radio. She has her arm extended behind her so she can hold your hand. “Make sure you take care of yourself and if you need me to come and help, say the word. Whatever you need, right, hon?” That last bit is directed at your dad and he nods in agreement, a man of few words.

“Thanks, mom,” you can’t help the waver to your voice. Quieter, you continue, “I’m scared.”

“Oh, my girl,” your mom turns around in her seat and gives you a soft smile. “It’s only natural, after everything you and Mat have been through. But I’m going to go light a candle tomorrow and you’re going to stay positive and in June you’ll have a beautiful new baby to love on.”

You nod and wipe at your eyes, your free hand splayed on your stomach. In your purse, your phone vibrates and you pull it out to find a text from Liana - a video of Talia in her car seat, singing the wrong lyrics to ‘All I Want for Christmas’ loudly and proudly. She’s totally off key, but she’s having the time of her life. Before the video ends, you can hear Mat in the background laughing and saying, “T, next year you can teach Baby Sparky the lyrics.”

Tears flood your eyes again and the reality continues to hit - this time next year you’ll have a second baby all geared up to celebrate their first Christmas.

You can’t wait.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #nhl fic

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xnalux · 1 month ago

Text

astronaut!vi hcs

modern!au, engineer!reader, enemies!to!lovers

warnings: mention of claustrophobia and panic attack, fem!reader

pictures are from pinterest and they're not mine except the edit of astronaut!vi who screams ''graphic design is my passion''

author’s note: my christmas was the shittiest so i had to cope somehow and yesterday while i was watching the new ''alien'' this idea came to my mind. this turned out longer than i inteded it to be but i still hope you like it. also it would mean the world to me if you'd let me know what you think about it and if you want to be tagged when i post the part two.

-a kiss on the ass to all of u ♡

astronaut!vi: when she was a child, vander introduced violet and powder to the world of ''star wars'' and from then on it became their dream to go to space.

They used to hide themselves late at night under a big blanket on violet's bed, with the glow of a flashlight illuminating the pages to read comics about intergalactic adventures. That's how vander would found them most of nights.

Powder's breath hitched as the plot thickened, her small hand reaching out to clutch her sister's arm.

"What happens next, Vi?" she whispered, her voice filled with anticipation.

Violet smirked, her confidence unshakeable.

"Don't worry, pow pow. They're going to save the galaxy."

The two sisters were lost in the narrative, their hearts pounding in unison with the pulse of the story. The flashlight flickered slightly, casting dancing shadows on the walls, as if the spacecraft in their comic had somehow entered the room.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and the harsh light from the hallway spilled in. Vander, loomed in the doorway.

He had the look of a man who had been roused from a much-needed sleep by the sound of whispers and rustling pages. Despite his stern expression, there was a hint of fondness in his eyes.

"Girls," he began, his voice a gentle rumble. "It's way past your bedtime."

Violet froze, the flashlight beam quivering in her hand. She had been so lost in the story she hadn't heard his approach. Powder, yanked the blanket up over their heads, turning their sanctuary into a cocoon of darkness once more.

"We're almost done" Violet called out, her voice muffled by the fabric. "Just one more page."

Vander chuckled, his footsteps heavy but soft as he crossed the room. He knew this dance well—their secret nightly ritual. He bent down.

"Violet, you know the rules," he said, his voice a gentle scold.

Violet sighed dramatically. "Yes, sir,"

she replied, emerging from the blanket with a sheepish grin.

"But you know how it is with Captain Nova. She never knows when to quit."

Powder poked her head out, her cheeks flushed with excitement and a hint of guilt. "We'll go to bed right after this, promise," she chimed in, her eyes pleading.

Vander sighed, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Fine," he relented. "But this is the last time, you two. You've got school tomorrow, and you need your rest."

With a nod of understanding, Violet and Powder tucked themselves back under the blanket, the flashlight beam once again illuminating their faces. They shared a conspiratorial smile before Violet resumed her tale.

astronaut!vi: her and powder room when they were kids was a sanctuary for their shared dreams and ambitions.

The walls were a soft shade of midnight blue, filled with glow-in-the-dark stars that they had meticulously applied. It was their own personal galaxy that they would gaze upon each night before drifting off to sleep, dreaming of the adventures they would one day embark upon together.

On one side, Violet's bed was neatly made, her sheets adorned with images of rockets and planets, the pillows arranged with military precision. Above her bed was a bookshelf filled with well-worn copies of astronomy textbooks, science fiction novels, science magazines. Above the bookshelf shelf, a poster of a fiery comet streaking across the sky served as a daily reminder of the thrill and beauty of space exploration.

Powder's space, on the other hand, was a bit more chaotic but no less enchanting. Her bed was covered in a blanket that looked as if it had been plucked straight from the surface of Mars, with swirls of red and orange hues that whispered of alien landscapes. Scattered across her side of the room were models of various spacecraft, each in a state of half-assembly. Her desk was a treasure trove of sketches and doodles, depicting her own imaginative interpretations of the universe. These drawings were taped to the walls, creating a mural of stars, planets and aliens.

The center of the room was dominated by a large, wooden telescope that their Vander had built for them and the floor around it was often littered with astronomy magazines and star maps, evidence of the countless hours they had spent poring over them, plotting their future adventures.

Above their beds, suspended from the ceiling, were twin planets, crafted from papier-mâché and painted with meticulous care.

astronaut!vi: her lesbian awakening was ellen ripley from alien.

After watching it with powder for the first time she became obsessed by it. saved up her money to buy all king of merchandise that revolved around it.

At first she just brushed it off as just being fashinated by a very fucking great movie thus “the aliens were freaking cool” but after the tenth time she rewatched it she started to notice how her gaze lingered on the curves of the astronaut's body, how her heart did a little twirl in her chest whenever the woman was on the screen.

It was the kind of revelation that changes a person, that makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself. But it was also thrilling, a secret she kept close to her chest, a bud of self-discovery ready to bloom.

at some point even powder noticed it and started teasing her about it.

One day, while the two were window shopping in a comics store, Powder pulled out from a shelf a magazine with an image of Sigourney Weaver as Ripley on the cover.

She held it up to Violet with a smirk, saying,

"Look who it is, your girlfriend."

Violet's cheeks turned bright pink ''shut up'' she snatched the magazine, feigning annoyance. But deep down, she knew her sister was onto something.

From that moment on, Powder took every opportunity to tease her big sis about her newfound infatuation.

It started with playful nudges and knowing looks, escalating to whispering "Ripley" every time she caught her off guard. Violet would roll her eyes and swat her away, but the truth was, it didn't bother her as much as she let on. In fact, it was almost like Powder was giving her permission to explore this new aspect of herself, to embrace it without shame.

astronaut!vi: who had a mental breakdown when she found out, late in her middle school years, that she was dyslexic thinking it would get in the way of achieving her dream of entering the astronaut academy.

it felt as though the universe had suddenly turned against her. The diagnosis didn't just shake her world,it fractured it.

For a week, she retreated into her room, refusing to come out or engage with the world that had so cruelly deceived her. Her books, once her solace and companions, were now her enemies, each page a silent testament to her perceived limitations.

Powder, tried everything in her arsenal to lift her spirits, silly jokes, spend all her saved up coins to buy her the new action figure of alien, even her infamous "World's Best Sister" cinnamon toast, but nothing could penetrate the thick fog of despair that had enveloped Violet.

One evening, as the sun began to set, painting the sky with a palette of fiery oranges and purples, Vander knocked gently on Violet's door. "Kiddo" he called out softly, "can I come in?"

Violet's voice was small, "Yeah, sure."

He entered, his eyes immediately going to her desk where her schoolbooks lay scattered like the ruins of a defeated army. He took a deep breath before speaking,

"you know I don't say much, but when I do, I hope you listen." he continued looking down at vi "I know it's been tough, but you can't let this get to you."

Violet looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears,

"How can you say that? Everything I've ever worked for…it's all gone!"

Vander took a seat beside her, his face a picture of calm determination, "It's not gone, not even close. Being dyslexic doesn't define you, it's just a part of who you are."

He took her hand in his,

"Do you know how many great minds were dyslexic? Einstein, for one, couldn't read until he was seven. He went on to change the way we understand the universe. Or take Edison, he failed over a thousand times before inventing the lightbulb. And what about Walt Disney? He had to overcome dyslexia to create an empire of imagination."

Violet listened, her spirit slowly rising like a phoenix from the ashes of doubt, "But, the Astronaut Academy…"

"Violet" Vander said with a gentle smile, "if you want to reach the stars, you will. There's no rulebook that says you can't get there because your brain processes information differently.''

He leaned in, "You're, capable, and smarter than anyone I know. You've always found a way to conquer challenges, and this is just another one. You're going to prove to everyone that you can do it, that you can be the best of the best."

His words resonated within her, a spark igniting in her chest. Vander had always been her rock. As she looked into his eyes, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could still make it happen.

With a sniffle, she nodded, "You're right. I'll figure it out."

Vander's smile grew, "I know you will. And remember, you're not alone in this. We're a team, you and me and powder…''

As soon as the name of the younger girl fell out of vander lips the door flew open and a little ball of energy bounced inside, blue hair glinting in the dim light of the room as powder quickly jumped on vi's lap.

''the dyslexic team'' she exclaimed dripping with enthusiasm and innocence.

Violet couldn't help but burst in laughter ''that's not how it works pow pow'' powder jutted slightly her lip pouting

''but i want to be as cool as you''

violet just ruffled her blue hair ''you're already the coolest squirt''

astronaut!vi: who from then on worked her ass off and graduated at the top of her middle and high school classes all the while training her physics hitting the gym, running marathons, or practicing kickboxing. she pushed herself to the edge and beyond, sculpting a body that could keep up with the demands of her curious mind.

astronaut!vi: who has a double STEM degree in computer and pshysical science and in the end get accepted in the astronaut academy. when it was time for her to move in to the academy powder cried even tho she still denies it.

Violet was focused intently on the task at hand, zipping up her duffel bag.

Vander appeared in the doorway. He cleared his throat, his calloused hands gripping the doorframe as he assessed the situation.

“You all set, kiddo?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble that echoed the pride he felt for her.

Violet nodded, not looking up from her task. "Yeah, just about."

Powder was sit on the edge of her bed trying to mantain a stoic face but her blue eyes glimmered with unsheaded tears.

vander stepped closer, his hand resting on vi's shoulder in a firm, comforting squeeze.

"Remember, you can do this," he said, his voice low and steady. "You've worked hard, and you're going to be amazing out there."

violet fondly rolled her eyes ''you're getting soft old man'' she tried to lighten up the mood even tho she could feel a lumpforming in her throat.

As soon as vander had left the two girls alone telling violet he was gonna wait for her in the car, a silence filled the room.

vi stood with her arms outstreched her gaze set on powder who was still looking at the point of her colorful boots.

''what? aren't you gonna say bye?''

violet voice was soft, trembling slightly due to the multiple different emotions she was feeling. Powder looked up and suddendly she surged forward throwing herself on the chest of her sister.

violet felt the warmth of Powder's embrace and the weight of her younger sister's head against her chest.

She wrapped her arms around her, her own eyes misting over.

"Hey, squirt" she murmured, stroking powder's back.

"It's just a couple of years, okay? You'll be up there with me before you know it."

"You better send me some cool nasa stuff" powder sniffed, her voice huffled due to her face squished agaist vi's chest.

Violet chuckled, her eyes shining with love and a touch of mischief. "You know I will" she said, ruffling her sister's braids, something she always did to annoy powder "And don't you dare get into any trouble while I'm gone."

As they pulled away, Powder managed a teary smile ''no promises''

the blue haired girl held out a small, folded piece of paper. ''I got you something" she said, her lips curling in a mischievous smile.

"A little… inspiration for when you get lonely at the academy''

violet took the paper, her curiosity piqued. As she unfolded it, she couldn't help but laugh. It was a photocard of none other than Ellen Ripley.

"You little…" Violet said, smiling and shaking her head, her cheeks a bit flushed.

"remember to always kick some asses" Powder said with a firm nod. "And hey, maybe you'll find your own space girl there."

Violet rolled her eyes playfully. "Powder…"

"What? It could happen!"

Their laughter filled the room as Violet tucked the photocard into her pocket.

She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, taking one last look around her room. It had been her sanctuary for so long, but now it was time to move on to greater things.

"Alright, let's go" she said, her voice steady.

astronaut!vi: who becomes a girl crush at the astronaut academy.

During the physical exams at the atronaut academy she shines. Whether it's the zero-gravity maneuvers, the endurance tests, or the high-pressure simulations, violet excels.

Her peers watch in awe as she glides through the obstacle course, her muscles rippling beneath her sleek spacesuit.

The whispers started in the locker room, where the other female cadets couldn't help but steal glances at her broad shoulders and the way her uniform fitted just right.

They talked about her in the mess hall, trading stories of her latest feats of strength or the time she figured out a solution to a physics problem that had stumped everyone else.

The crushes were subtle, the glances lingering, but the admiration was clear.

astronaut!vi: who is actually fucking oblivious and never get the hint when girls actually flirst with her.

one day, as the academy's cafeteria buzzed with the usual mix of recounted training sessions and space trivia debates, a fellow girl cadet, approached Violet's lunch table.

She approached Violet with a tray of food and set her tray down gently next to Violet's.

"Hey, Vi, how'd you manage to nail the zero-g obstacle course today?" she asked, her voice a little softer than the usual. "I mean you are always so strong and capable."

Violet, her mouth full of food, looked up with a cheeky grin. "Just a bit of luck and a whole lot of practice"

she said, shrugging off the compliment.

the fellow girl cadet leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling like distant stars. "Maybe we could practice together some time?" she suggested, her voice a delicate balance between casual and hopeful.

But Violet, lost in her own little world of space-induced euphoria, took her words at face value. "Sure, I could use the company," she said, patting the seat next to her. "We can go through the simulations again tonight if you want."

that's how violet usually accidentally friendzoned girls. In the end it would always ekko, Violet's best friend and a fellow cadet who was as sharp as a tack, who made her notice what she was so oblivious to notice.

''you are aware she was hitting on you right?''

Violet's eyes widened, and she choked on her drink. "what?!" she sputtered, coughing. "she just wanted to train more!"

Ekko smirked, slapping her on the back. "geez, you're fucking hopless" he teased her ''at this rate you will land on mars before even losing your virginity''

violet's cheeks turned a delightful shade of red, and she playfully shoved Ekko.

"Shut up"

astronaut!vi: who absolutely couldn't stand you, you were a cadet at the academy with a STEM in engineering but who lacked a bit on the physical strenght and practical thinking or as she liked to call you ''a smartass know it all who wouldn't last one second if she actually got to space''. You two always ended up bickering during simulation training.

like when during an intense space shuttle emergency drill simulation, you and violet were tasked with navigating a simulated crisis together. The lights were flashing, alarms were blaring, and the stress levels were through the roof. you had to work as a team to save your hypothetical spacecraft and its virtual crew.

She started commanding you around as you began to suggest alternative procedures based on some engineering manual you had read and even though some of them deserved merit she wasn't listening to you leaving you feeling frustrated.

''if you just stopped for a second and listened to me'' you bursted out clenching your fists to the side

She rolled her eyes and shot back.

"This isn't the time for your textbook theories, we're following the protocol!"

but you didn't falter and your suggestions grew more frequent, and she had had enough. She grabbed the intercom and announced

"Mission control, we have an uncontrollable know-it-all on board. Requesting immediate evacuation."

The room burst into laughter, even the instructors couldn't help themselves.

But Violet's message was clear: she didn't trust you to follow through in a real crisis and this infuriated you.

astronaut!vi: who actually couldn't shut up about you. she never lose the chance to bring u up in the conversation to rant about something infuriating you did that day to powder when they videocall at night in her room until one night powder had had enough.

Violet, sat in the dimly lit confines of her dorm room at the astronaut academy, her laptop screen casting a bluish hue on her face. She was dressed in her tank top with the academy's logo emblazoned on the chest, and navy blue sweatpants that hugged her muscular thighs. Her hair pulled back into a tight bun, revealing the contours of her sharp jawline and the small scar above her right eyebrow.

on the screen was powder, with a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, powder leaned into the camera, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"So, what'd she do this time?" she drawled, a knowing look in her eyes noticing the sour mood violet was in.

"You wouldn't believe it"

Violet began falling right in the trap of the blue haired sister, and with her voice filled with a mix of exasperation and incredulity she dived in a rant about something you did that rubbed her in the wrong way during training.

powder's smirk grew wider as she leaned back in her chair.

"what a surprise sis, talking about the infamous smartass again" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's her name again?"

"Doesn't matter" Violet replied, waving a dismissive hand. "what matters she's always questioning my methods, always assuming she knows better when she probably couldn't even find her way out of a paper bag if she didn't have a GPS.''

"you know" Powder suggested, her voice playful. "for someone who affirm to not stand her you surely mention her a shit-ton of times"

Violet rolled her eyes crossing her arms over her chest. "what's that even supposed to mean"

"oh, come on" Powder teased, her eyes glinting. "Admit it. you've got a crush on her and your pining is getting pathetic sis"

The room grew silent as the words hung in the air.

Violet's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, and she sputtered, "What? No! That's ridiculous. I can't stand her!"

Powder leaned in closer, her smirk morphing into a full-blown grin. "But why do you talk about her so much, then?''

Violet opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Her mind raced back to the times she'd found herself stealing glances at the you.

"You know what, Powder?" she finally said, her voice tight. "You're out of your mind.''

Powder's grin became even bigger and she sing songed "you want to scissor with her in space so bad''

Violet almost choked on her own spit as she let out an horrified high pitched sound.

''what the fuck pow''

astronaut!vi: who from that night on from that moment on, Violet couldn't function around you the way she used to. Her usual sharpness was blunted by an awkwardness that was unexpected. whenever you entered a room, she would stumble over her words, her sentences trailing off into nothingness. Her eyes, which once bore into you with a look that could cut through the vacuum of space, now darted away, unable to hold your gaze due to her mind conceiving image of you two in compromising situation always ending up cursing herself under her breath ''get a fucking grip''.

during training sessions, she'd stumble when you offered a solution to a problem, her mind racing with thoughts she hadn't allowed herself to entertain before. In the weightlessness of the zero-G chamber, she'd fumble with the equipment, and when you'd gracefully glide over to assist, she'd snap at you, her voice cracking under the weight of her own denial.

After all she was an hormonal young woman who suddendly became hyper aware of how attractive you were even tho you still got under her skin like no other.

you, on your end, noticed the shift in her demeanour and the how the tension between you two had shifted to something different but you were too convinced she hated you to actually understand what was right in front of you.

astronaut!vi: who one day kisses you.

It was during a routine simulation, one that you'd both done a hundred times before, that things took an unexpected turn. You were supposed to be running through the emergency protocols for a spacewalk gone wrong.

You were in the simulator, the walls closing in around you, the artificial gravity playing tricks with your inner ear.

Suddenly, the room grew smaller, the air thicker, and your heart began to race. You had never told anyone about your claustrophobia, not even the academy psychologists. It was your secret, your weakness, and you had hoped it would never come to light.

Violet was in the control room, watching the monitors as you fumbled with the virtual equipment. She had her usual smirk on her face, ready to make a snide remark about how you'd probably trip over your own feet in zero gravity.

But then she noticed something off about your movements, something she hadn't seen before. Your hands were shaking, and your eyes were darting around the tiny space like a trapped animal's.

"Come on, you've got this" she said over the intercom, expecting you to snap back with a clever retort. But instead, there was only silence, broken by your rapid, shallow breathing.

Panic was setting in, and you were unable to respond, let alone move.

Her smirk faded, replaced with a frown of concern. "What's wrong?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "Why aren't you responding?"

You tried to speak, to explain, but the words wouldn't come out. Your mouth was dry, and your chest felt tight. You could see her getting frustrated, tapping her fingers impatiently on the control panel.

"This isn't the time for games" she said, her voice tight. "You need to focus."

But it was no use. your mind was racing, and you couldn't control the fear that was overwhelming you.

It was then that she saw it: the sheen of sweat on your forehead, the way you were clutching at the console. And she realized it wasn't you being a know-it-all who was incapable of action. It was something else entirely.

Her expression softened, and she stepped away from the controls. "Hey, it's okay" she said gently. "Just breathe. In… out… in… out…"

Your eyes found hers through the small window of the simulator, and you tried to follow her instructions, but the panic was like a beast that had you in its grip.

violet made a split-second decision. She knew you were in trouble, and she couldn't just stand there and watch. She hit the emergency override, and the simulator popped open, revealing you, gasping for air.

without a moment's hesitation, she climbed into the simulator with you, ignoring the safety protocols. Her strong arms gripped your shoulders, shaking you slightly trying to get you out of your mind.

"You're okay" she murmured. "You're okay. It's just a simulation."

But the words weren't enough. You could feel your heart racing, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

''I c-can't'' you choked out, your own hands shoot up grabbing at vi's gear.

violet's eyes searched yours, the blue of them piercing through the fog of your panic. She saw the desperation in your gaze, the silent plea for help.

Her hands moved to cradle your face, and she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your cheek. "Look at me'' she whispered firmly, her voice a soothing balm to the chaos in your head. "Breathe with me."

your eyes remained wide, but you managed a nod, focusing on her face. Her thumbs brushed away the beads of sweat from your forehead, a tender gesture that somehow grounded you.

"In" she instructed, drawing in a deep breath, "and out." Her exhale was slow and deliberate, and you tried to mimic it, but your breaths were still ragged.

"Violet, I… I can't" you stammered, your voice trembling.

her grip tightened, and she leaned in even closer, her eyes never leaving yours. "You can" she insisted, her voice a gentle command. "You're strong, smartass"

but the panic was a raging storm, and her words alone couldn't calm it. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched you struggle, and she remembered something stupid she once read somewhere.

Without giving it another thought, she leaned in and pressed her lips to yours. It was a soft, brief kiss, but it was enough. Your eyes widened in shock, and for a second, the panic took a backseat.

as Violet's lips met yours, the world outside the simulation faded away. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, there was only the feeling of her breath mingling with yours, the warmth of her touch, and the sudden, inexplicable calm that flooded through your body. The claustrophobic walls of the simulator no longer seemed so daunting.

Her kiss was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the tough exterior she usually presented. It was like a lifeline thrown into the abyss of fear that had consumed you. Your breathing slowed, the hyperventilation subsiding, as the warmth of her embrace began to replace the cold grip of panic.

When she pulled away, you remained still, your eyes locked with hers, trying to understand what had just happened. You felt a strange mix of relief and confusion. The room around you was the same, the cold metal and the artificial lights, but something within you had shifted.

Violet's cheeks were flushed, and she looked surprised at her own actions. "I… I read somewhere that a kiss can help stop a panic attack" she said clearing her throat, her hand scratching awkwardly her nape and her usual confidence momentarily forgotten. "It's… it's supposed to help ground you, I guess."

the air between you crackled with an awkward tension as you stared at each other. Your chest was still heaving, but the fear was slowly subsiding.

the instructor's voice through the intercome pulled you both back to reality "Cadets, report status."

Violet cleared her throat and responded, "We're… we're okay. Continue with the simulation."

#vi arcane #arcane vi #arcane au #arcane spoilers #vi league of legends #vi x reader #jinx #vander #ekko #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane #arcane fandom #lesbian #sapphic #wlw #wlw post #vi #lgbtq #arcane violet

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readychilledwine · 2 months ago

Text

The Art of a Dress

Summary - After commissioning you to make some of his mother's designs come to life, Rhysand faces the reality that artwork is more than what's painted on Feyre's canvas and even fabric can envoke memory.

Warnings - Parenting, children, vague mention of death, angsty-ish, Liz not doing the Venus and Junon dresses justice, platonic reader relationship

A/n - The first of my Christmas fics that don't center around Christmas. I was inspired to write this after talking to @daycourtofficial . It's how I imagine Feysand having a daughter will go.. Her and Feyre would constantly coordinate or match outfits. They'd be that mommy daughter duo.

✨️Master Masterlist✨️

Starfall.

Rhysand was beyond ready for Starfall. The cherished holiday had begun to mean so much more than just the traveling of souls across the sky almost 7 years ago.

Specifically because of the little girl holding his hand, her long dark hair bouncing with each step as his son and Feyre walked behind them, warm cups of hot chocolate in hand. Nyx had grown into a handsome young male at 20 years old, turning and winking at his little sister as she held Rhysand's hand.

“Do you think y/n got the dress perfect, daddy?” Deep blue eyes looked up at him as Lenora looked up at him. Her sweet face was etched in concern.

Rhysand only felt his lips twitch up, thinking of his long time friend. You had been trained as a seamstress by his mother, and your designs had quickly become demanded all across the Night Court. Fashion was art to you, it held no boundaries, no limitations. It was self expression, freeing.

For that reason, you were the only one he trusted to create the twin gowns he had found in his mother's sketch book. “Without a doubt, starlight,” he said to her. “It is probably better than we imagined.”

“It's just my big birthday,” she whispered, almost afraid you would disappoint her.

“Every year is your big birthday, Lala” Nyx rolled his eyes before opening the doors to white shop filled with many windows. Each window had a different display. Gowns and decor showing off y/n's skills and mastery of the craft.

You had opened today just for the High Lord and his family. The Inner Circle was already all seated as you locked the doors and then hugged Feyre, “I think we start with you, momma,” you said to her. “I need to talk to Rhysand really quick if you three want to head back,” you motioned towards the velvet sitting area for Nyx and then the dressing room for Feyre.

Lenora had already run to Azriel, picked up in his arms as you looked at Rhysand. “So, we need to have a gentle talk.”

Rhysand gave you a playful shoulder shove, “Price is no concern. I know you probably put in a lot of effort.”

“It's not about price. It's about Lenora. These dresses were originally designed for your mom and sister. Who your daughter looks a lot like.”

Rhysand brushed it off, having mentally prepared, at least he thought, “I'll be okay.”

You only nodded. “Then we should start.” You followed Feyre only laughing as you saw her face. The dresses you had been given to design were works of true artistry and would fall into the history of Night Court iconic moments.

The dress was a deep rich black with a fairly simple top. A straight strapless neckline with black beading that was heavier towards the top and faded to the drop waist. Two solid panels of matching black fabric at the top and on the waist.

The skirt was where the magic began.

The skirt was layered with elongated scallop shapes that felt almost flower petals like. Each one had silver and purple jewels and sequins sewn into the edges and up. Even the train matched the details, not a single spot looking out of place.

You had spared no expense on this dress, which, to Feyre, meant her daughter's matching dress would be just as fantastic.

Feyre was silent except for the occasional emotional huff of air as you pulled up the hidden zipper. “Is it comfortable,” you asked softly.

“Yes. Not even nearly as heavy as I expected.”

You nodded at her statement, “The fabric is from Scythia. It is so buttery soft it's extra gentle on your skin. I won't get into the details on the sequins and jewel work with you. Your dear husband.. spent far too much money getting me the ones he wanted for quality.”

The High Lady nodded, “Can we show them?” You helped her step down before opening the curtain. It was a collective gasp as the first of two dresses made its debut.

Rhysand immediately circled his mate like a hawk, checking the quality of the beading placement, the cuts of each scalloped edge. “Fantastic,” he finally approved. “You look beautiful, Feyre Darling.”

Feyre was all smiles before glancing at Lenora, “I imagine you don't want to wait to see yours?”

“No,” the princess immediately ran into the dressing room, making you laugh as you pulled the curtain and began helping her.

Her dress was similar to Feyre's, only adapted to fit her slender and youthful self. This dress had heavy black beading on the strapless top. This dress had a scalloped edge neckline that seemed to melt into the drop waist. The skirt had an over layer, scallops that matched Feyre's in color and design, only this dress had one layer before falling into full shining black tulle skirts. The back was your favorite part. Those scallops continued in the back, that petal look and texture running just the train of the princess-like gown. You and Rhysand had selected this to be Lenora’s dress for weight reasons, and as you zipped her up, you didn't regret that choice.

You glanced at the little princess in the mirror, “Do you love it?”

“Yes,” her excited scream had the room beyond them laughing.

“Is it comfortable?”

“Yes!” She ran out then, you laughing as she did and barely making it to the curtain.

She had expected joy, smiles, and laughter. She was welcomed with silence, with Azriel immediately having to leave the room, Cassian squeezing his hands together. Amren and Mor touched Feyre and Nyx, indicating for them to follow the two of them out.

Rhysand had prepared, he told himself as his hands shook. He had mentally readied himself to see his daughter in this gown. Yet that preparation failed in comparison to seeing what he was looking at.

Cassian stood, “I'm so sorry,” he left the room, tears beginning to fall.

“Its not you,” you murmured to Lenora as her little lip trembled. “Shh. It's not you. Give daddy a second.”

Rhys closed his eyes before walking over and kneeling down to her. Lenora broke the silence, “Is it ugly?”

“Mother no,” his voice was breaking. “I'm so sorry baby. This Isn't the reaction you deserved you just-” he looked up at you before taking a deep breath to continue. “You look like your auntie.”

“Like Auntie Ness or Auntie Elain," she glared. There was a right answer.

“No. Like my sister. Like Evangeline.”

The almost 7 year old felt her little face falling. She knew her dad had a sister. One who was gone. But she didn't know the reason why. “Is that why you're all sad?”

“They aren't sad,” you whispered before leaving. "Trust me, dove.

Rhysand thanked your intervention silently. It gave him a moment to process and breathe. “You look so beautiful and grown up,” he studied her face. His daughter wasn't the spitting image of him. No, Lenora was his sister. That same fierceness in her eyes. The same emotional need for approval. That same desire. He had not seen it before, but something about this dress highlighted it.

Cassian was the first to return, “I'm sorry,” he said to Lenora. “I needed a second. I hope you can forgive an emotional old male.”

“Do you think I'm pretty,” she brightened up.

“Oh absolutely. Prettiest girl I've ever seen.” Only Rhysand knew the significance of that sentence. Of who it was last said to. “Might have to tell Ness she needs a new Starfall date and keep you all to myself all night.”

Lenora made a little shocked face before cuddling with Rhysand, “But daddy promised me a dance.”

“I'd surrender you once to your dad. Then all Uncle Cass time,” his voice and smirk were playful though it didn't reach those almost sad eyes. Cassian hugged Lenora, taking the healing that came with that contact and sighing softly “Give Uncle Azzy a few more minutes. Y/n is talking to him.”

And a few more minutes is what it took. Azriel entered with a small box in hand. A little tiara you had paid Neve to make to match Lenora’s dress inside. He wordlessly turned his niece to face the mirror before opening the box and placing the amethyst and grey diamond tiara into her long dark curls. His hands then went to her little shoulders resting there. “Do you know how much we all love you,” Azriel asked her.

“More than the stars?”

All three males nodded. “You look so much like her,” Azriel's voice was tight. “And that is a special thing. Your aunt was a light in darkness. Her smile and laughter brought unmatched happiness when your dad, Cassian, and I needed it most.”

“And now you do,” Rhysand told her, finishing Azriel's thought while squeezing his brother's bicep. “You are perfect, my little love.”

Lenora smiled at herself in the mirror, then as Nyx entered in the suit that coordinated with his baby sister. Her brother wasted no time bringing added excitement to the room by carefully picking her up and standing in the mirror. “We are good looking.”

“Very,” Lenora giggled. “You're handsome.”

“You're breath-taking.”

The three older males watched the sight silently. Feyre joined them again and rested her head on Rhysand's bicep. Mor entered again, still wiping tears. Amren only smiled as she came in with you.

Nyx was still talking to Lenora, pointing at things in the mirror to show his little sister details she missed. The older fae were all silent, this moment closing a wound that they'd hoped was long forgotten.

Nyx, the very image of his father. Lenora the very image of her long gone aunt.

Rhysand finally cleared his throat, “Nyx, let your mother stand by Lala. I want to see the dresses side by side.” The princeling nodded and set his sister down, standing with a hand out to help Feyre onto the pedestal.

“Stunning,” Mor said first. “They're fantastic.”

“Artwork,” Amren flatly said. “These gowns are artwork. They will need to immediately be put in your family archives, High Lord.” A murmur of agreement filled the room, your face flushing.

“You did amazing,” Azriel whispered in your ear. “We had a little doubt this time around with how she drew these.”

“Me too,” You admitted. “I definitely did too.”

Lenora looked gorgeous the next night, faelights twinkling off the jewels on her and Feyre's gown. Nyx currently was waltzing with Feyre. The two of them were only outshined by the birthday girl on her very special day. Her and Rhysand were swaying, her father having picked her up to do so. “I love my dress, daddy.”

He hummed, “I love it too. Happy birthday, my starlight.”

“Thank you,” she leaned her head into him. “Its the most special birthday.”

“The most special birthday for my most special girl,” he said. “Always my most special girl.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites

#elizabeths.updates #send asks #acotar #send anons #feysand #feysand x platonic!reader #azriel x platonic!reader #feysand daughter #nyx acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader

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simplyholl · 1 year ago

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A Gift For A God

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18 + ONLY. Minors DNI.

See My Masterlist Here

This is a gift for @fandxmslxt69 ❤️❤️❤️ for @fictive-sl0th Secret Santa 2023!

You sigh as you walk out of the sixth store today. You had been Christmas shopping for your boyfriend, Loki. But, you weren’t having any luck. What do you get a god who has everything? He was used to the finest fabrics on Asgard so he was picky about his clothes. You couldn’t afford the super nice brands he was accustomed to.

You thought about buying him more books, but he had so many there was hardly any space left for them in his room. The bookshelf was filled and overflowing. You voiced your concerns about what to get him, and he assured you that you didn’t have to get him anything. “All I want is you, my love.” He said while kissing each of your knuckles the night before.

You load the gifts you bought for your family into your car, looking at the other stores in the shopping center. You needed to run into the craft store for your sister’s gift. She had taken up sewing recently, so you thought you would get her some fabric.

You walk through the aisles, hoping something would catch your eye. When you reached the fabrics, you chose a few that your sister would like. You look on the opposite shelf, feeling the different textures. You stop immediately when you find a silky red one. You had the perfect idea.

You lay on Loki’s bed, fidgeting with the blanket. It wasn’t often you could surprise him. He usually knew you were up to something before you could act on it. This time, he didn’t have a clue. You could hear his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he walked to his room. You couldn’t wait for him to come in and find you.

The door creaks open. His heavy boots thump against the floor. Thud. You squeeze your legs together to quell the throbbing but it’s no use. Arousal pools against the smooth fabric. Thud. Your heart beats faster as he gets closer. Thud. You try your best to stay in the sexy position you’ve posed yourself in, on your back with your hair splayed across his pillows.

The light in his bedroom comes on illuminating you on his bed. Loki lifts his brow, his eyes darkening as he notices you. “What have we here?” He asks, walking painfully slow toward you. When he finally reaches the bed, he doesn’t bother taking off his fighting leathers first. He kneels beside you, his weight causing the mattress to dip under him. “You said all you wanted for Christmas was me, and here I am.”

“Here you are.” He purrs, pushing his long hair behind his ears. He reaches out to toy with the bow holding your breasts within. An amused expression crosses his face as he runs a long finger from the loops on the bow to the small piece that barely covers your aching nipples.

His digit stills as it lands on the sensitive nub. You whimper, as he removes his hands from you. He hovers, admiring your beautiful body wrapped up perfectly for him. The long piece that connects your chest to your ass barely covers anything. Loki’s gaze holds on that spot for a moment. You don’t think anything of it, until he nudges your legs apart with his leather clad thigh.

“You’re soaked already, darling.” He smirks, reaching down to swipe at your core. His finger dips underneath the ribbon, collecting your arousal. He brings it to his lips, savoring your taste. He releases his finger with a loud pop. You squirm, wishing it was you in his mouth, not his finger.

He captures your lips in a sweet a kiss, and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. Loki scatters kisses along your jaw line, down your neck. His teeth nip your collar bone, and you arch toward him. “This is the best gift I have ever received, my love. Perhaps I’ll take my time opening it.”

He palms your breasts gently, careful not to reveal your nipples. You press them against his rough hands, hoping he would give in. Finally, he rolls one between two fingers, the silky ribbon rubbing deliciously against you.

Loki lowers his head, his black curls fanning against your arms. He takes a hardened peak between his lips. His warm tongue flicks against the fabric, making you squirm. “Loki, please?” You whine, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He pinches the smooth fabric, playing with the bow. Slowly, he pulls it apart, leaving your chest bare before him. He removes the rest of your makeshift lingerie, spreading your legs. He admires you before burying his face between your thighs. His firm, velvet tongue strokes you slowly. You buck your hips, trying to get him to go faster.

It’s no use, his arm traps you, holding you down. Loki works your clit with the flat of his tongue until you are a whimpering mess. You cry out his name as he seals his lips on the most sensitive part of you, sucking roughly. You come apart underneath him, thighs gripping his head, holding him in place.

Loki doesn’t bother taking off his clothes, he removes himself from his pants, pushing them down his hips just a little. He lines himself up at your entrance, pushing into you slowly. You lock your legs around him, pulling him toward you.

He groans as he sinks deeper into you. He buries his head against your shoulder, lips latched onto your throat. He draws the delicate skin between his lips. Your legs tremble around him as you feel another orgasm building.

Your nipples graze the leather top as he lifts your leg, rocking into you with hard, deep thrusts. You clench around him. He rewards you with a growl that rips from his chest. His teeth scrape against your shoulder.

You grip his arms, incoherent cries escape you as your orgasm barrels through you. He grips your hips tighter, thrusting wildly. Loki bites down on your shoulder as he finishes inside you. You shiver, you love it when he marks you.

He rubs his nose against yours, locking eyes with you. “I love you more than you could ever know.” He confesses as you lazily play with his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. He holds you in his strong arms, telling you how much he loves you, and how proud of you he is. You smile, thanking the powers that be for blessing you with Loki. Every day feels like Christmas morning with him.

Secret Santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmsIxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

My Taglist

@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @wheredafandomat @freegardenbanananeck @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @asgards-princess-of-mischief @weirdothatwritess

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x yn smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x yn #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x reader #a gift for a god

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narcissisticsmoker · 1 month ago

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The house hums with warmth and festivity—golden lights twinkle from the Christmas tree, laughter and the low murmur of conversation spill from the living room, and the faint scent of mulled wine and cinnamon lingers in the air. It’s perfect, picturesque, exactly how your family would want it to be.

But then there’s me—the uninvited guest, stepping through the doorway like a storm, dressed in a black, tailored suit that fits perfectly against my frame. My tie is loose, my shirt open just enough to suggest that I’m here to take, not ask. The moment I enter, the energy shifts. The light, airy mood darkens imperceptibly, and even though no one notices, you do.

You’re wearing a red dress that clings to you like a secret, every curve outlined, every movement deliberate, though you pretend it isn’t. The neckline is high enough to appease the room but low enough to catch my eye—an invitation you won’t admit you’ve sent. Your hair is swept up, not a strand out of place, but I already know how it will look tangled, messy, with my fingers buried in it.

Our eyes meet across the room. You freeze for just a second, your lips parting as if to say something, but you catch yourself. Instead, you turn back to the polite conversation with your cousin, though your hand trembles as you lift your glass.

I smirk, cutting through the crowd with calculated ease, exchanging pleasantries with people whose names I don’t care to remember. My focus is singular. You. Every glance, every fidget, every subtle shift of your body betrays you. You want me here as much as you want me gone, and we both know it.

When I’m close enough, I let my hand brush lightly against the small of your back. It’s a touch so subtle no one else notices, but you do. I hear the sharp intake of your breath, see the way your shoulders stiffen as I lean in, my voice low, private, just for you.

“You’ve been a good little angel tonight,” I murmur, my lips brushing against your ear. “Playing the perfect daughter, the perfect sister. But I know exactly what you’re thinking. And it isn’t very innocent, is it?”

Your head turns slightly, your eyes meeting mine, wide and defiant. “You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, though your voice trembles, betraying you.

I chuckle softly, my hand pressing just a bit firmer against your back. “Oh, but you knew I’d come. That’s why you wore this dress, isn’t it? Pretending to ignore me while your body begs for my attention. Don’t lie, baby. You’re mine tonight, whether you admit it or not.”

Before you can respond, I take your hand, guiding you through the house with calm confidence, as if this was always the plan. The quiet hallway feels like another world, the soft glow of lights dimming into shadow as I pull you into the guest room and close the door behind us.

The second the lock clicks, I’m on you. My hands grip your hips, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. My mouth crashes against yours, hard, demanding, leaving no room for argument as my hands roam over the silk of your dress, bunching the fabric in my fists.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” I growl, my voice rough as my lips trail down your neck, leaving marks no one else will see. “Smiling, laughing, acting so innocent while I’m standing there, watching you fall apart under my gaze.”

Your breath is ragged, your body arching into mine, but I grip your wrists, pinning them above your head. “No,” I whisper against your skin, my teeth grazing your collarbone. “You don’t get to touch me. Not yet. Tonight, I’m in control.”

I drag my hand down your body, slow, deliberate, feeling every inch of you tremble beneath me. The hem of your dress is pushed higher and higher until it’s no longer between us, and the soft gasp you let out when my hand slips beneath it only fuels me further.

“You’ve been such a good little angel out there,” I murmur, my voice dripping with dark amusement. “But here? You’re mine to ruin.”

I take my time, teasing you, pulling you closer to the edge and then stopping, making you gasp, making you beg. “Do you hear them?” I whisper, my lips brushing against your ear as I keep my rhythm slow and relentless. “Your family, just a few rooms away. Do you think they’d still call you their sweet little girl if they saw you like this? Writhing under me, gasping my name, begging me to take you harder?”

Your response is a broken moan, and I smirk, gripping your thigh and pulling you closer, deeper, until the sound of your breathing drowns out everything else. I push you further and further, building the tension until it breaks, leaving you trembling and undone against the door.

But I don’t stop. Not yet. My hands grip your hair, pulling your head back as I murmur against your lips, “We’re not finished, baby. Not until I’ve taken everything from you. And then, you’ll go back out there with your hair a mess, your dress crumpled, and my marks all over your skin, pretending to be their perfect angel again.”

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aerynwrites · 1 month ago

Text

Peace

Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting anything lately lol - my writing motivation has been in the toilet. But hopefully it's back now and I just had to get this little piece out for the holidays. I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 4k Warnings: so much fluff, fluff galore, fluff mountain, slightly insecure simon, (possibly ooc simon??), mentions of praying before a meal, again just lots of fluff.

Simon “Ghost” Riley doesn’t get nervous.

Nerves, anxiety, fear - it was all beat out of him by his piece-of-shit excuse for a father. Then further beat out of him in the military. Nervousness died with the first Simon Riley, buried six feet underground never to be heard from again.

So why the bloody fuck are his hands sweating?

He’s wiped them on the fabric of his jeans at least a dozen times as they drive down the desolate stretch of road in nowhere Scotland. Johnny talking his ear off the whole time - mostly about his family.

The family Simon is about to meet.

Fuck…what was he thinking, agreeing to this?

Thinking you don’t want to be alone again on the holidays, that’s what.

Simon shakes his head, chasing the thought away as quick as it’d come.

He’s been alone all his life. He didn’t need anyone. Yet, when Johnny had whispered the request, a simple one really - into the darkness of the room one night as they shared a bed…Simon couldn’t say no.

“Come home with me, Si.”

That was less than a week ago, and the Scott followed through on his promise, helping Simon pack his bags before all but whisking him away for a few weeks holiday with his family.

His very large family.

Of course Simon knew of Johnny’s parents and sisters and brother, but Johnny had warned him that the whole extended family gets together for Christmas. He’d been regaling Simon with dozens of tales from his childhood, each one with a different family member. And try as he might, Simon couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips as he continued, sweaty palms forgotten the longer Johnny talked.

The small moment of reprieve didn’t last long, however, because sooner than Simon was ready for they were turning off the main road onto a side street. That side street quickly gave way to a long gravel drive, and before he knew it Johnny had parked the car behind at least half a dozen others in front of a large house.

The first thing Simon noticed was the sheer normal-ness of the place. All the cars were practical ones, SUVs, sedans - made for families. The house was decorated modestly but tastefully. Colorful string lights lined the gutters and porch railings, a wreath hung on the door, and a large wooden sign leaned up against the front of the house beside the door that read ‘Merry Christmas!’ In bold red letters.

But more than that, Simon could see into the house. The blinds are open and he can see many people milling about, talking, laughing, adults running after small children-

“This wasn’t a good idea, Johnny.”

The words are out before Simon can stop them, and he instantly regrets them the moment they bring a wounded look to his partner's face. But he can’t help it. His damn palms are sweaty again and his heart is racing and he can’t-

Johnny reaches over to slide a familiar calloused hand into his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be okay, Simon. They’re gonna love ya’-”

Simon can’t help the small huff of bitter laughter that slips from beneath his mask. “Will they?” He asks, before gesturing to the cloth covering his face.

“You’re tellin’ me the kids won’t run screamin’, the moment they see me? Or that your family won’t stare at the giant with a bloody mask-”

Simon cuts himself off, shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t ‘ave come,” he repeats sullenly, “You go in. Enjoy the holiday with your family. I saw a hotel not too far back, I can-”

“No, no, no, none of that shite,” Johnny interjects, voice firm. A tone he doesn’t take with Simon often.

“I’ve told them all about you,” he finally admits, “mask an’ all.” He laughs softly. “The only thing Ma ‘ad to say about it was askin’ why you chose a skull.”

Simon is silent, warring with himself as Johnny continues.

“And…you don’t ‘ave to wear it if you don’t want to,” he suggests lightly, before squeezing Simon’s hand again. “I wouldn’t ‘ave suggested you come if I dinnae think they’d like ya’. My family is important to me, Si. And you’re part of tha’ now.”

Simon didn’t have time to respond this time before Johnny’s out of the car and opening the trunk to get their bags. He’s thinking out loud again, wondering if his mother made his favorite side dish or dessert, wondering if his nephews would be here.

Simon is listening but he also isn’t, his mind running one hundred miles a minute until the trunk slams closed and Simon lets out a muttered curse before ripping the balaclava off his head and shoving it in his pocket as he steps from the vehicle. He doesn’t miss the shocked raise of the Scott’s eyebrows as he comes around the car before it melts into that fucking smile that plagues Simons waking moments.

Simon takes his bag from Johnny’s hand before following him up the drive then up the steps of the porch. He waits patiently as Johnny grabs the door handle, knocking when he finds it’s locked. Every moment of waiting feels like an eternity for Simon, all possible scenarios running through his mind. The door swinging open and everyone inside coming to a stand still as they take in the monster Johnny brought with him. The children pointing and whispering about the scars marring his features. Johnny’s parent’s frowning in disapproval at the choice their son made…

It’s all playing out in front of his very eyes until a soft feminine voice calls out from the other side of the door - ‘coming!’ - and then the lock clicks and the door swings open and an older woman that looks eerily similar to his partner beams up at them both.

“Johnathan!” She says reverently, wistfully, as she wraps her son in a hug so fierce Simon’s momentarily worried she might injure him.

But Johnny just laughs and drops his bag as he wraps his big arms around his mother, stooping down to envelop her entirely as he embraces her, tucking his head into her neck.

“I’m home, Ma.”

The embrace lasts for the perfect amount of time before they pull away from one another, and it’s then, as Mrs. MacTavish holds her son at arms length - looking over him - that her eyes flit over to Simon, and the inevitable has finally come.

Except there’s no hatred. No disgust or disapproval or furrowed brows. Instead there’s a smile just as big as she gave Johnny and before Simon can react the woman is approaching him.

“You must be, Simon,” she says, voice gentle - warm and welcoming.

All Simon can do is nod, gripping onto his duffel bag with white knuckles.

“Johnathan never stops talking about you-”

“Ma!” Johnny reprimands.

“Talking about you and your team and how…” she trails off, a sadness settling into her eyes before she steps forward and wraps Simon in an embrace he hasn’t felt since his own mother passed.

It’s strong and grounding, yet soft and inviting all at the same time, and it catches Simon so off guard that this woman who barely reaches his chest is hugging him - that all he can think to do is wrap his free arm lamely around her shoulders.

“Thank you for keeping him safe.”

The words are so soft, uttered into the cotton of Simon's shirt, that he’s surprised he hears them. But he does, and he gives her a gentle squeeze.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to him,” he assures her.

He looks to Johnny as his mother pulls away from him, and he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the smug ‘I told you so’ look on the scott’s face.

Mrs. MacTavish smiles again before stepping back towards the house. “Well, come on then, you’re just in time, really. Dinner is goin’ to be ready within the hour.”

She opens the door back up and steps inside and Johnny follows close behind her, looking back when Simon hesitates. He gives him a reassuring look, shifting his bag to his other hand so he can reach a hand out to him. Letting out a small resigned huff, Simon takes the hand offer to him and lets himself be tugged into the house.

Warmth envelopes him almost immediately- not only in the temperature sense because of the roaring fire in the fireplace at the center of the living room - but also in the atmosphere. The lights around the house are soft and welcoming, none of the bright fluorescents that litter the base. And the general sense in the house is one of pure love and happiness and joy. Children running around, adults laughing and chatting happily with drinks in their hands. Even the Christmas tree, bursting with colorfully wrapped gifts beneath it adds to the overall feel.

It gives Simon whiplash - how different this place is than the environments he’s usually in. It’s not like the cinderblock dorm he usually stays in or the concrete gym he frequents or even the various dangerous countries he travels to for missions.

Simon wants to both run and never leave at the same time. And unfortunately for him, he doesn’t get a chance to do the former. Before he has a chance to disappear into some dark corner (not that there’s many to be seen in this cozy home) Johnny is introducing him to all the family that stops them as they come in.

Aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces, grandparents…the only ones Simon really has time to remember are his sisters because Johnny talks about them all the time anyways - and once again, Simon is startled into near silence. Not a single one of them gives him a sideways glance. They all just smile warmly at him when Johnny introduces him, giving him a firm handshake - or let’s be honest - most of them wrap him in a firm hug. He expected nothing less from Johnny’s family.

And when Johnny does end up getting pulled away by rambunctious nieces and nephews and Simon is left alone, he still doesn’t get a chance to slip away because Johnny’s sisters are sliding up to him, chatting about anything and nothing and slipping a drink into his hand (spike eggnog which Simon pretends not to enjoy as much as he does).

It’s how ended up where he is now, hating feeling useless and standing around, he’s bustling around the kitchen with Johnny’s sisters, Amelia and Isobel and Mrs. MacTavish.

“Call me Moira, Simon. Mrs. MacTvish is my mother-in-law.”

(He doesn’t. Can’t. Not yet at least.)

“Simon,” Amelia, calls from the gargantuan dining room table in the room connected to the kitchen, “Can you grab the trivets? Dinnae want to leave rings on the table-”

“Oh!” Isobel calls as well, from where she’s playing the silverware, “I forgot the napkins too-”

Simon, with trivets already tucked beneath his arms, swoops up the delicately folded napkins on his way into the dining room - “On it.”

He places the trivett's precisely where the sisters direct him, unable to stop the small smile from tugging at his lips when they practically groan in appreciation when he places the napkins on top of the plates that are set out.

“Finally,” Amelia explains, moving to help Isobel set the silverware, “A man who isn’t entirely clueless-”

“Right?” Isobel agrees, both of them laughing.

Simon lets out a chuckle of his own, shrugging his shoulders.

“We didn’ do much as a family when I was younger,” he starts, slightly hesitant. “But my Mum never skipped a holiday meal. Showed me how to set the table,” he says softly, feeling like he revealed too much.

But the sisters just smile brightly at him, and Simon has to shove down the voice screaming ‘wrong, wrong, wrong! You don’t deserve their kindness, their sympathy-‘

“Well, your mum sounds like a lovely, woman,” Amelia says, before Isobel pipes in.

“Are you and Johnny going to visit your family after us?”

Simon freezes at that, shoulders tensing as he tries and fails to stop the frown from tugging at his lips. He pretends not to see the way Amelia elbows her sister, sending her a scathing look as he continues to place napkins, now avoiding their eyes.

“I uh-” he clears his throat. “My family’s passed. Jus’ me now.”

It’s silent for a moment, before he feels a gentle squeeze on his shoulder and he startles slightly, not having heard Mrs. MacTavish come up behind him in his inner grief. He turns to see yet another one of those blinding smiles on her face, a smile so similar to Johnny’s. He freezes again as her hand slides down to cover Simon’s, her hand tiny against his own larger one.

“Well,” she says softly, “You always have a place at our table, Simon. You’re our family now.”

She turns away before he can speak and as she calls out to the family that dinner is ready, he’s silently glad she did, because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to speak around the lump in his throat.

———

The family helps carry the food out to the table, and Simon can’t help but be impressed at the bountiful display of food, his stomach rumbling at the sight. Johnny finds him in the slight chaos, taking his hand in his own as he leads him to two seats towards the head of the table, just as everyone else is taking their seats. Johnny’s mother is at the head of the table, Amelia and Isobel and their partners and children to her left and Johnny and Simon to her right. He can’t help but feel like he’s too high up on the totem pole that is family seating. Hell, he doesn’t feel like he deserves to be here at all.

Yet, when Mrs. MacTavish insist they all hold hands to say a prayer and she goes through the typical spiel, any doubt he has melts away when she says thanks for Johnny’s safety, Simon’s own name falling shortly behind before the entire table closes the prayer and Johnny squeezes his hand in that loving way that always makes his heart stutter.

As quickly as the silence that fell over the table during grace came, it was gone in an instant. Soft shatter and laughter soon starts up as everyone passes dishes of food around. A lot of the things Simon recognizes; ham, mashed potatoes, and various other comfort food sides litter the table. But there are also some dishes that are unfamiliar to Simon, and Johnny is quick to explain them. Most of them are Scottish dishes he’s never heard of, but some are family recipes that have evolved over the years - all of them Johnny’s favorites.

“Oh, you ‘ave to try this one Si, it’s my favorite-”

“You’ve said tha�� about the last three dishes, Johnny-”

The Scott just laughs, “But this time I mean it.”

Soon, Simon’s plate is piled so high with food he’s concerned he won’t be able to eat it all (he does…and goes back for seconds). And he has to constantly remind himself not to eat like a military man - hunched over his plate, shoveling food in as fast as possible to be done in time - something he notices Johnny has to do as well.

Simon smiles - and for the first time since he left base a few days ago, his palms have stopped sweating.

———

The night is quiet as Simon steps outside of the still chattering household. Dinner ended a few hours ago, and ever the dutiful guest, Simon helped clean up before the events were moved to the living room. Presents were shared among family, mainly the kids. Colorful wrapping paper littering the floor and the couches and the chairs (and even the fireplace on one occasion, a disaster Simon managed to catch and stomp out before it went too far.) He and Johnny sat on the couch, the latter watching and oozing happiness from every pore as he soaked in the family he hadn't seen in too long. Hell, even Simon was sated - a little too much like a cat in a sun patch with his belly full and his inhibitions slightly dulled from that damn eggnog.

But now…Simon felt the ever present itch to step away, that familiar feeling of otherness creeping back in as he feels like an intruder to something so cozy and intimate.

You don’t belong here, that voice mutters again, sounding strangely similar to his father’s rasping voice as he slides the back door open and steps onto the back porch.

He tugs a cigarette from the pack in his coat pocket, placing it between his lips before grabbing the zippo Johnny had gifted him almost a year ago.

‘It’s the twenty-first century, L.T. quit usin’ matches.’

Simon huffed out a small laugh at the memory as he flicked the wheel of the lighter, a small flame sparking to life and warming his palm as he cups his hand around it and brings to the end of the cigarette, taking a deep drag to light it.

The soft sound of the sliding glass door reaches his ears just as he flicks the lighter closed and stows it away, and he knows who it is almost instantly, the footsteps familiar to him.

Johnny doesn’t speak right away, instead coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with Simon just as the first few flurries start to fall from the sky.

Snow…

Simon can’t remember the last time he saw snow - well - saw snow in a pleasant way. Snow that wasn’t waist deep and in the Russian wilderness and keeping his team from reaching the safe house. Snow that wasn’t stained red or crushed into brown slurry beneath his boots.

Maybe this trip would change that - like it’s changed a lot of things.

“Thank you.”

The words are simple, but soft. Softer than they have a right to be coming from a man like Simon. A man who has more blood on his hands than most. A man who most people would run from the second they looked at him.

But he means them. He means them with his whole heart and he hopes that Johnny understands everything Simon is trying to say with those two simple words.

Thank you for inviting me here. Thank you for trusting me with your family. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for loving the unlovable and showing me this and -

Johnny shrugs, and the rustle of fabric breaks off Simon’s train of thought as he glances over at his partner from the corner of his eyes.

“I want you ‘ere, Si,” Johnny says softly, eyes looking out into the wilderness beyond the backyard, into the stars littering the night sky, “I ‘ave for a long time, and I…”

He trails off, clearing his throat, and Simon doesn’t miss the way he fiddles with something in his pocket.

“I love you, Simon,” he says gently, finally tearing his eyes away from the celestial lights above him to look at Simon in a way that he’s never been looked at before. “And I meant wha’ I said. You’re part of this now,” he gestures back to the house still brimming with life, love, and happiness. “And I was wonderin’…” he trails off again, letting out a frustrated sound.

“Ah, I’m shite at this…”

Simon huffs out a laugh, “Spit it out, Johnny-”

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to laugh, shaking his head as he pulls out a little velvet box from his jacket pocket. “Your makin’ this real ‘ard to be all romantic an’ shit-” he rolls his eyes, but even in the dimness of the moonlight Simon doesn’t miss the way Johnny’s cheeks redden.

Realistically Simon knows what’s in the box - he knows what’s coming. Yet, he still can’t help the way his heart leaps into his throat when Johnny opens the box to reveal a simple gold ring. No frills, no getting on one knee and professing his love, no fancy dinner.

It was never their thing anyways.

“Simon Riley,” Johnny says, voice slightly choked, nervous, “Will you marry me?”

Simon never truly knew what he would do in this situation- fuck, he never imagined this scenario. Ever. Not in a million years. And if he did - he always thought he’d be the one asking.

“Johnny…”

The Scott cuts him off, “now before you go an’ start all that self-deprecatin’ bullshi-”

“Johnny-” Simon tries again.

“I love you! An’ I know that-”

Simon lets out a low growl, once stemming from slight annoyance as he flicks his cigarette out and away from him in favor of taking Johnny’s face in his calloused palms and pressing lips firmly to his. It shuts the Scott up, and Simon can’t stop that stupid giddy feeling that he gets when familiar hands wrap around his waist.

It doesn’t last long, just long enough for Simon to get the point across, and then he’s pulling away resting his forehead against Johnny’s.

“If you’d let me get a bloody word out, I’d tell you yes.”

Johnny pauses at that - eyes widening slightly in that way that Simon always thinks looks like a puppy begging for more treats.

“Really?”

Simon scoffs, not unkindly, and pulls away his hand still cupping warm cheeks.

“Why’d ya ask if ya thought I’d say no?”

Johnny blushes at that, looking away, “Well I didnae think you’d say no…” he shrugs, “Just thought you’d take more convincin’ is all.”

Now it’s Simon’s turn to roll his eyes, as he finally drops his hands, holding his left one out slightly.

“You gonna make me put it on myself?”

Johnny laughs then, a real laugh, the loud one that Simon pretends to hate but really truly loves - and then Johnny is taking the ring from the box and sliding it on Simon's left ring finger with more delicacy than he deserves. The metal is cool, smooth as it slides against his overheated skin, and as it sit snugly on his finger, Simon can’t help but flex them, the metal glinting in the moonlight.

“You picked good, Johnny,” he says lamely, not sure what else to say until he glances at Johnny’s left hand.

“Now I need to get you one,” he says, “Can’t have people thinkin’ you’re single.”

Johnny smiles, digging around in his jeans pocket this time before producing an identical gold band to his own. “Way ahead of ya, L.T.”

Johnny goes to slide the band on, but Simon stops him, taking the metal ring from his fingers with a grumble of ‘hold it sergeant’ before he slips it over his ring finger. He doesn’t miss the way Johnny smiles down at their hands, all wrapped together as he gazes at the matching rings.

Simon opens his mouth to say something, but a bright white flash of light from his left stops him and Johnny in their tracks. They both look over just in time to see Isobel fumbling with her phone behind the glass sliding door as Amelia scolds her and Mrs. MacTavish just gives her son a small thumbs up and watery smile.

Johnny just groans and runs a hand down his face as the three women scatter, leaving them alone once more.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, “Sorry ‘bout them-”

Simon shakes his head, taking Johnny’s hand in his own as he turns to face the backyard again, thumb already running over the smooth metal ring.

“Don’t worry about it, Johnny,” he says, waving him off. “I…it’s nice. Having a family again.”

Johnny smiles, giving Simon’s hand a soft squeeze before they both settle into a comfortable silence to watch the snow fall from the sky above them.

And as the muffled sounds of Christmas music and soft chatter filter out from the house and Simon holds Johnny close…He can’t help but send a silent thought to his mother and brother. Wherever they are.

‘I’m not alone.’

The gentle kiss of a breeze answers him, whispering against his cheeks and wrapping around his legs, and for the first time since he can remember -

Simon is at peace.

#ghoap #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #simon riley x john mactavish

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eliza-and-her-monsters · 1 month ago

Text

the tortured poets department

Bonus Chapter

Info Post

Moodboards

Part I

Prev Part <> Next Part

Contains/TWs: a flashback essentially of reader and ellie whenever they were at the psychiatric hospital/wellness retreat together, the sweetest most gentle and soft ellie of all time. HELLLLAAAAA angst like next level angst. discussions of mental illness, hospitals/psychiatric facilities, and mentions of s**cide, sh/scars from sh. (this is not meant to romanticize psychiatric hospitals/care, mental illness s**cide or sh in any way. if you or someone you know is struggling please reach out. you are loved 💛)

WC: 2.5k

A/N: merry christmas eeeeve!! oh my ellie girls- did i ever cook for you 💛

Bonus

gold rush

I think the first time we actually talked was during one of the first nightmares. I hadn’t grown used to the big unbreakable windows or the heavy hospital beds and the idea of having a roommate who saw every one of my little quirks made it even worse. In fact I was even convinced she hated me after a while. She had tried so many times to be friends and I had blown her off every time. Why wouldn’t she?

It was in the middle of the night, one of the few nights I had actually gotten myself to fall asleep in which was promptly ruined. I don’t even know what had alerted her at first, she was such a light sleeper it could’ve been something as small as the change in my breathing. At any rate though before I could fall too deep into the hole I felt the grip of someone’s hand on my upper arm giving me a firm shake awake.

My vision was already so blurry because of the lack of glasses and the tears didn’t help. My breathing came out sharp and fast as I lifted my hands to roughly wipe at them. “No, hey, stop, don’t do that.” Ellie spoke as she passed off my glasses where I promptly slid them onto my eyes with shaking hands. And whenever I couldn’t find anything to wipe the tears away with she chose her sleeve, yanking it down far past her hand and pressing the fabric underneath my eyes until they coated it.

Normally, I would’ve pulled away. I would’ve scrambled and begged her not to. But the fact that for once someone besides my sister wasn’t looking at me like there was something wrong with me… I guess you could’ve called it an early stage trauma bond. Because all it did was pull me towards her. My hand was flying to hers before I know it, wrapping around her wrist as if to hold it into place.

I let out a tiny gasp in embarrassment, shaking my head to unravel my fingers as I stammered out an anxious apology. “I’m- I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay.” She spoke, the corners of her lips upturning in a weak smile as she inched herself closer. “The first week is usually the hardest. And you get pretty touch starved at some point so… you’re okay. I-I probably need it just as much as you do.”

I sniffled as I nodded, still trying to regulate my breathing as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, still desperately clutching at her arm with a trembling hand like she was the only thing I had left to hold on to. “How did you make it to England?” I whispered, subconsciously scooting aside so she could take a seat on the bed next to me, her shoulder just slightly brushing mine.

“Turns out whenever the US Army really fucks you up, they’re willing to shell out a shit ton of money to send you to the best mental health facilities in other countries to hopefully fix it.”

“Geez…” I muttered underneath my breath as I hugged my knees to my chest. “So you’re like, proper scarred then?”

I wasn’t expecting the massive laugh to burst from her lungs next, almost needing to slap a hand over her in order to not alert any of the nurses probably more than we already had. “You could say that.” She answered, resting her back against the wall before giving my arm the smallest of nudges. “What about you? What are you in for?”

“My parents… really just don’t know how to accept the fact that I’m… different. So they’ve stuck me in here hoping to find some kind of ‘cure’ I guess.” I shrugged, arms hugged around my knees. “Turns out just being extremely neurodivergent isn’t enough to fit the criteria of being put in a long term residential psychiatric care facility though so-”

“Oh yeah? Tried to check out too early too, huh?”

“Wow, it’s like you know me already.” I added with another tearful chuckle, Ellie already pulling at her sleeve to catch the strays before they could roll down my cheeks.

“I do know you.” She added, her tone shifting in a slightly more serious though still gentle tone. “I am you.”

For some reason the words brought forth another shuddering sob. A level of understanding I hadn’t seen in anyone else before, not even my sister. “C’mere.” I heard her whisper, pulling away her already halfway up short hair as she extended her arms out to me like we had known each other for years. The sound of my sob was muffled by her hoodie as she pulled me in, my face hidden in her chest as I let the broken cries finally escape.

It sounded so stupid, but I had tried my hardest not to cry while I was here. I thought if I acted like it enough maybe, finally, magically I’d become stable enough to not have to be here and it could even translate to my life outside. Turns out it didn’t work that way. Ellie brought out a new side of that though, she made me feel like it was okay to cry. And she’d be there every single time. Brushing away my tears or letting me hide my face in her shoulder or her chest until I didn’t have any left to cry.

“From now on… you’ve got me and I’ve got you, deal? So no more trying to check out too early, okay?” I wiped at my eyes with a gross sniffle, and whenever I pried myself from her hoodie I could see her staring at me with an expectant gaze and a lifted pinky finger. It was hard to say no to with that dorky little smile on her face. It was hard to say no to also whenever I knew she had been through so so much worse.

I nodded, weakly, but hoping it was enough enthusiasm for her as I wrapped my pinky around hers and feeling her give them the tiniest squeeze. “Perfect, now I’m never gonna leave you alone, squirt.”

The nickname brought out a tearful laugh from me, and I realized I couldn’t exactly remember the last time I had ever truthfully laughed as she tossed her arms back around me and decorated the top of my head in a dozen kisses. Whenever the nurse came at the usual 5 am to check vitals I distinctly remembered being curled up to her chest like she was my own personal pillow, dozed off to the sound of her breathing.

I knew it was an intense friendship, I knew it could’ve signified more. And honestly maybe that’s what I was afraid of. Growing so close to somebody only to have it brutally taken away from you by nothing more than the complication of love.

The wellness retreat we were at prided itself on trying to be just that, a retreat. They put a big emphasis on the great outdoors, courtyards and swimming pools and gardens, including a significant amount of grounds for us to go on walking trails. Ellie, I think, was determined to explore every inch of them before she got out and judging by both of our appointments we’d have the time too. So it was no surprise we frequently found ourselves on one, conjoined hands swinging back and forth like careless middle schoolers wanting to show off their very first relationship until Ellie’s long legs and curiosity got the better of her and she ended up trotting forward. She was after all exceedingly more fit than me.

“So, I don’t mean to pry or anything.” She spoke up after a moment of silence masked by our lazy footsteps.

“That’s never stopped you before.” I giggled before breaking out into a skip to catch up with her.

“Ha ha… very funny.” She snickered with a roll of her eyes. “So, I think I already know the answer to this but- it’s pride month, so humor me? Your sister’s an absolute fruit basket, right?”

I burst into laughter at her words before shrugging in response. “I mean, that’s certainly one way to put it.”

“So… what’s the likelihood your parents ended up with two gay daughters?” She wondered as she held up the number on her fingers.

A tiny smile stretched on my lips at the question, no sign of offense in sight from my end as I slipped my hand around the crook of her elbow. “I’d say… pretty likely.”

“Wicked.” She grinned a bit to herself as she rose her arm ever so slightly as if she was a gentleman escorting me to a fancy event. I chuckled once more at her old school slang, catching my bottom lip in between my teeth as if to avoid smiling even harder.

I released a sigh of relief the moment we approached a clearing enveloped perfectly with its high trees. “Can we stop for a second? I’m totally roasting out here.” I huffed as I trudged forward to find a comfortable seat and slip the psych issued backpack off of my back.

“It’s because you’re always wearing those flannels and long sleeves… even outside. No wonder you’re burning up.” Her voice noticeably got softer as she stepped up behind me with a soft hand on my back. “Why do you do that, by the way?” She questioned, gently slipping her hands up my covered arms to the elbows nearly making me tremble.

“You- You know why.” I mumbled, feeling our bodies naturally inch closer until I pressed my hands to her chest.

“No I know why I guess I just… don’t really know why you wear them here, you know? And around me? I-I mean we all have scars.” She wondered, her careful hands sliding around my back. Somehow despite all of our previous touches and general antics and even falling asleep in the same bed it felt as if this was the most intimate we had ever gotten. Stood like two high schoolers at a dance who had no idea what they were doing, yet everything at the same time.

“I guess I just- I never wanted to bother anybody else. Especially you. They’re- They’re not pretty, and they hurt and- I don’t know.”

Ellie let one of her hands encircle around my forearm against her chest where one of my hands held onto her shoulder. On instinct I tensed up, expecting the worst, expecting the judgemental eyes of doctors and the saddened ones of nurses. “I think scars are a sign of strength- of bravery.” She spoke, gently turning my wrist until the scars were pointed upwards where she gradually rolled my sleeve.

“Your’s are maybe. Mine aren’t brave. H-Hurting yourself isn’t brave.”

Ellie’s brushed a tender thumb along the raised skin, the healed markers of stitches. Normally the touches would’ve caused the slightest sting or even a throb. Healed enough to have faded ever so slightly but not enough to have stopped the pain entirely. Ellie’s touch was so gentle though, so careful and delicate. “Surviving through it is though.” My eyebrows knitted together as a waterfall of tears burned behind my eyes.

“That doesn’t mean do it again-“ she ordered as she held up a stern finger with her free hand. “But… just don’t be ashamed either, you know?” Ellie caught a stray tear with her thumb just before carefully lifting my scarred arm until she could brush her lips against it. Placing delicate featherlike kisses against every little wound.

“Thank you.” I sniffled, a soft sob catching in the back of my throat just as I felt her pulling me in, my face muffled in the crook of her shoulder as she wrapped a strong arm around me. “I think you might just be the sun.”

“Darling…” I could feel her shaking her head from just above me as she still held my wrist with such care. “I’m far from the sun. I’m just a girl who… who really really cares about another girl.”

It almost felt like a declaration of some sort, my eyes flickering upwards to meet her softened green eyes, her star-like freckles that I could trace like constellations, down to her curved lips. Maybe I was hallucinating and delusional, looking back on it I probably was. A one-sided magnetic pull towards her perfectly pink lips. So why did she seem to get closer too? Why did she wrap her arms around my waist to pull me in? Why did she let my hand caress her face in the way it did? Why why why why?

At the last second I felt her lips shifting, pressing softly to my cheek instead of my own and I could nearly feel my heart shatter right then and there. “Baby, I can’t do this to you.” She whispered with a shake of her head, the step backwards only sending me reeling as I fought the urge to dive after her.

“But I- I thought-“

“I know- I know but- fuck, please don’t cry, Millie, I’m sorry.” Ellie didn’t cry often, so whenever she did it was a big deal. But in that moment I could see the tears welling up in her own eyes as she drew back to me so quickly I nearly lost balance. “I can’t- I-I can’t give you your first kiss in here. We- We can’t do this, Millie. I love you s-so fucking endlessly but I- y-you deserve to have your first kiss be from somebody special and somewhere romantic and… not with me.” She sighed a bit to herself, clenching her hands at her sides as if it killed her to say any of this.

“I just can’t give you what you need i-in that sense right now and I- I hate myself for it and I feel like I’ve screwed up the most important and precious thing in my life because of it but… I can’t lie to you. I just can’t.” A weak sob fell from her lips as she let her hands fly to her eyes as if it’d somehow hide all the evidence.

If she were a selfish woman she would’ve gone through with it. She would’ve pushed her lips to mine and held on for dear life and maybe it would’ve gone farther. But she wasn’t selfish. In fact she was probably the most overwhelmingly selfless person I had ever met.

“Ellie, love.” I gulped back my own tears as I stepped forward to take her body into my own arms, lifting up onto my tiptoes so she could nuzzle her face into my own shoulder. “I’m not mad at you. You didn’t screw anything up. You could never screw this up.”

Ellie’s arms squeezed around my waist as she let her tears soak into the crook of my neck with a shuddering sob. “You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me.”

“And you’re still the sun.” I spoke softly, inching away only to cup her freckled face in my hand and press my forehead to hers. “You saved me. So you’re my sun.”

#ellie williams #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams x oc #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ttpd vi x reader #ellie tlou #the last of us #tlou #bonus chapter #bonus #angst #fanfic #fanfiction

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fleet-of-fiction · 10 months ago

Text

Jake Kiszka x Narrator & Sam Kiszka x OC.

Chapter Four

Summary: The Jones Family are new additions to the sleepy community of Beech Run. A tight knit scattering of rural houses, where everyone knows everyone. Deeply religious and overbearingly strict, the daughters of the family are kept under lock & key by a fanatical Father and submissive Mother. They watch from bedroom windows as their neighbours, The Kiszkas, draw intense curiosity and desire to be free. Madness of youth , hope & obsession collide to bring the danger of forbidden love to poetic ends. (Era A/U)

Warnings: Religious/ Parental trauma. Penetrative p/v sex. Dom/Sub dynamics. Ass play. Oral F/Receiving.

Winter 1985 (Flash forward)

Jake was gone; to begin with. The absence of him echoed all around. Like the vapours of his breath still lingered in the mist, just waiting to be breathed in.

It had been ten days since I last saw him. Standing on the edge of the street where all the Christmas lights twinkled an array of colours I couldn't feel anymore. The rot had set in.

And I'd watched him go. Without a rope to tie around his neck, or mine. Because using it to tether him to me hadn't worked. It was seamless how he disappeared into the density of the encroaching fog. Those reds, greens and blues that ran along the neighbouring windows fading alongside him.

I didn't know quite how profound the loss would be until I realised it was infinite. And suddenly I understood why poets were driven mad.

"Bonnie?"

The rain was lashing against the windscreen. I hadn't noticed. All I could see was the swirls of grey and white of that night he had walked into the road. Forever locked in that moment, never stepping out of it even as I traversed the present moment.

"Yeah?" I replied, turning my head to look at a pair of eyes so painfully similar to his that I couldn't stare for too long.

"We're here." Sam informed me, gesturing towards the blurred image of the church beyond the rainy glass.

I looked down at my hands. Balled up in my lap like I was wringing out a damp cloth.

"I can't do it." I shook my head, adamant that I was going to let roots begin to grow beneath where I sat before I ever got out of the car.

The warmth of a hand on my shoulder snaked over the curve of it from the seat behind me. And the tenderness of it made the tears begin to flow once more.

"Come on." Jolene soothed, "Be strong today, and I promise you can fall apart tomorrow."

Summer 1984

Jakes house smelled like beer and fabric softener. There were empty bottles strewn across the kitchen work tops and half eaten bags of chips sitting on the table. He immediately scrambled to try and make the place look more presentable as he opened the door for me.

I was endeared by it. But too tired to really care if the place was tidy or not.

"My Dad." He explained, sliding his arm across the counter in an attempt to gather all the empties into the trash can. "He usually has some buddies around to play poker and jam a little once a week. My Mom usually makes him clear the mess up, I guess he forgot tonight."

None of it felt real. Not the words exchanged in the hospital room or the way my little sister had clung to life with her eyes closed, none the wiser to the heated exchange. I could feel the coil around me tighten, a fear that I had done the wrong thing starting to choke me.

"It's fine, Jake. Really." I assured him, feeling the tears come.

He dropped the trash can and bounded across the kitchen, reaching me in one single heart beat. Fingers wrapping around my shirt, pulling me into his circle. The rush of comfort was overwhelming, doing nothing to stem the flood that was building. But it didn't feel quite so futile once I pressed my face into the curve of his neck.

"Hey, hey..." He soothed, "Everything will be alright, you know that?"

Whatever it meant to have walked this path, I couldn't go back. I'd had a taste of defiance and it had gone down like nectar. Sweet and alluring, with none of the bitterness I'd expected. And although I had a moment of doubt, the moment Jake held me it dissipated into nothing.

"Not yet, I don't." I sighed, letting the damp spot I'd made on his shirt seep onto his skin.

"Yes you do." He replied, noticing what I'd done and pulling the shirt completely off. "You being here means that you do."

The wall clock was ticking. The gentle buzz of the refrigerator sounded out over the silent house. It was strange to hear these familiar sounds in a place that was completely new to me. It didn't feel like home, but I didn't feel homesick for anywhere else either.

"It's been a long night. We can sleep on the pull out in the garage, I don't want you to have to deal with Josh's sleep talking in my room." He said, lining up my expectations like he always did.

"I don't care where we sleep." I shrugged, taking the shirt he'd dumped on the back of a chair and straightening it out absently as if my hands needed something to do.

He noticed.

"You're restless." He surmised, taking my hands into his and wrapping them around his waist. "Maybe we won't sleep, then."

"I couldn't." I confessed. "I keep replaying the sight of her laying in that hospital bed, helpless. And all my Dad cared about was making sure I knew he thought me a whore."

A smug little grin began to dance across Jakes lips.

"A whore?" He chuckled. "I have never given you a dime, how much do I owe you?"

His softness had me melting into it. In the face of my misery, he smiled and brought me into a light no God could ever provide. The sweetness of his love all the payment I'd ever need for the things he took such delight in from me.

"Forever." I replied, "You owe me forever."

The gentle nudge of the tip of his nose turned my cheek.

"Forever it is, then." He replied, nuzzling into a kiss that was slow and delicate.

I liked his house. The way it felt lived in. I could feel the love in the walls, the intimation of welcome and the chaos. I wondered how it could be that such love manifested under a roof so close to one that could scarcely keep the warmth in.

"I think this is what God meant when he talked about love." I whispered, letting him guide me through the house towards the door that opened up into the garage.

Jake was unapologetically shirtless. The base of his spine sitting above his belt, two little dimples that seemed to wink as he walked. Every fibre of him appealed to me, as if he'd been placed at my doorstep to adore.

"Don't worry about God." He mused, pushing open the door to reveal a cool breeze coming in from the drafty expanse ahead. "We make our own luck, our own destiny. We make our own love."

I felt as if I should have been exhausted. But being in this cavern of wonders always took me back to the night he took my virginity. I couldn't step into it without being reminded of the beauty of it, the way he'd been so gentle and calm.

I wasn't a virgin anymore. Any semblance of innocence I had given to him, willingly. I knew the softness of a man's touch and the aggressive streak that could come with heightened arousal. I knew that look in his eye when he wanted my body more than my soul. Things a girl could never understand.

"Fuck me, Jake."

I wanted it. Not to take the pain away, or numb the doubts racing through my mind. But simply because I wanted it. I wanted the rough and the smooth of his body against mine. The rush of blood to his penis, to feel the veins pulse at my touch.

I wanted the power. The femininity of it, to know he ordained himself to me. For the longest time I'd lived under a rule that was not my own. I governed myself now, my mind and my body.

"How would you like to be fucked?" He asked, pulling out the bed whilst keeping his eyes on me.

I could have been shy about it. I could have said it didn't matter, that he could fuck me however he pleased. But it wouldn't have satisfied me.

"Like the whore my Father thinks I am." I replied, without shame.

His hands were already at his belt. Loosening the buckle. Pulling it out of the loops swiftly.

"You'd better take off that dress and get on all fours, then." He instructed, matter-of-factly, as if I hadn't just said the most debauched thing to ever escape my lips.

The immediate flood was inspiring. He was so sure of himself, so certain of his ability to arouse me. Sometimes I forgot that I instilled that same heat within him. And so I did as I was told, letting my clothes fall to the ground as I crawled onto the bed.

I heard the unmistakable thud of his jeans as he kicked them off. The waistband of his boxer shorts as he slid them down high thighs. Soon his hands were at my hips, positioning me at the very edge of the bed with my toes almost peering over the precipice.

"Like a whore." He repeated, sinking to his knees. "I wouldn't fuck a whore like I loved her."

I had known his love and it was powerful. But so too was his propensity to make me feel like the most desired creature on earth. It carved out an obsession within me that had caused a ripple throughout my whole life. I simply wasn't the same girl I'd been at the start of summer.

"Then don't." I said flatly, "Just for once, don't love me..."

The way he didn't hesitate, the way he didn't even verbalise it. He understood what I needed without fixating on the how or the why. I closed my eyes as he spat on my cunt, rubbing his saliva into my submissive clit as he positioned himself.

He loved me so much he would do this for me. The sacrifice was not lost upon me. Part of me wondered if he had been waiting for me to submerge myself beneath the dark waters trying to drown me. If all along he'd wondered if the virgin would go rogue.

"The pastor's daughter has finally listened to the devil." He uttered, through gritted teeth, leaning in to my pussy like it was a water fountain, curving his mouth into the slit like it was about to satiate his thirst.

"He speaks to me every day." I reiterated, my voice trembling on the tongue that sliced into my entrance.

He trailed it upwards, licking a clean stripe from my pussy into the valley of my ass. And there he set to work, chasing all the choirs of angels that had ever sung to me. They flew skyward out of my mouth as I let out an agonized cry of pleasure.

He ate like a man starved. Like a man who had never set his tongue to speak, let alone venture into the parts of my body that never knew it could feel so good to be lashed.

"You know I love you." He breathed, his words strained on the way he swallowed.

"I know." I replied, almost in whisper.

"Good." He murmured, railing his tongue against my swollen lips. "Because for the next five minutes it's going to feel like I don't."

I was immediately drawn to the paint peeling on the brick wall. I was never really sure why my eyes zeroed in on it. Perhaps because my other senses were overwhelmed. I just needed something to tether me to this plane of existence. To feel as if any of it was real.

I stared at that white speck of flayed paint as my body convulsed. Jake, like he had lost his damned mind, sucked my pussy lips into his mouth and the devilish sound that it made turned my cheeks crimson.

And then, without any warning, I felt it. The curious finger that opened me up, a delicious new venture to take my mind away from itself. And I closed my eyes against it, not even able to tether myself to the wall.

My pussy, feeling the void of his touch, pined as he gently probed inside that other begging place. Filling it, exploring it. And I didn't have any way to fight it, least of all when he slammed his cock into that neglected hole. Fingers edging further into my ass, his hard beast giving me exactly what I had asked for in my pussy and my mind on the verge of euphoria as I forgot even the first syllable of my own name.

He was wrong. He'd never been more wrong. As he heaved and pounded, delicious strokes that hit me deep and hard I'd never felt more loved. My entire body pulsed with the magnitude of each thrust. My vulnerability laid bare, like he'd seen the heart of me since the very first time we'd caught each other's eye.

I wanted to touch him so badly, so maddeningly. But it drove me wild how easily he could take control and I would submit. Despite my shallow breaths, a gasp still managed to find it's way to my lips as he pulled out of my ass, swirling that same finger around the hole before stroking it with the pad of his thumb.

Everything I had come to know about sex was at Jake's teaching. Even this. This moment of sheer abandon, forceful indulgence in something I had clearly needed for so long but hadn't known what it was that would cure me of this melancholy.

I was nearing the point of thoughtlessness when I heard his whisper. His body leaned into the curve of my spine, his stomach nestled against me as his hand pulled back my sweat drenched hair. Cock held deep inside, his lips at the shell of my ear.

"Whore..."

There it was. Every single facet of my soul lingering in the ether between us. Getting fucked, getting my pussy so unashamedly pounded I felt nothing but pride. In Jake, in myself. There was nothing outside of it, nothing outside that one word that I had now reclaimed.

"Hail Mary, full of grace..." I recited, my voice barely audible over the stream of moans. "The Lord is with thee..."

"That's it little whore, pray..." Jake encouraged, wrapping my hair around his fist.

"Blessed art thou among....uhh...women..." I choked, feeling my head reel back as he pulled. "And blessed is the...oh, fuck...fruit of thy womb..."

He fucked harder, faster. Keeping my body aligned with him by pulling my hair.

"Tell him." He urged, "Tell your God who you belong to now."

My brain completely shut off from the inhibited parts that would scream at me to be decent, to have the kind of sex that God would approve of. There was nothing but the throbbing girth and savage onslaught of Jake fucking me left to commit myself to.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God..." I breathed, my mouth unforgivingly dry. "Pray for us sinners...now...and in the hour...fuck...in the hour of...fuck......"

"Our Death..." Jake completed for me, sending me into an orbit that was higher than any heaven could hope to be.

Had it only been five minutes? Every muscle and sinew ached, every nerve ending a blaze. My cunt was soft and wet, filled with his cum and the moisture of mine. My hair follicles stung, raw from the pull. I felt Jakes body slide against mine, sweaty and spent. The violence of his furious assault in the flush of our flesh.

I'd never felt more at peace.

"You want me to fuck you like that again, my death might be a real concern." He sighed, falling onto his back as I tried to regain my composure.

I'd never seen him look so absolutely ruined. The sweat and the rose in his cheeks making him look decidedly demonic. The dilation of his pupils made his eyes look pitch black in the almost darkness. He was my satan, my sinful reason to renounce all that I had ever known.

"But what a death." I replied, trailing a palm down my wet breasts, feeling my skin pricked with sweat. "And when you're entering the gates of hell you'll have sweet memories to keep you company."

"Hell can only exist if you believe in it." He said morosely, pulling me down into the clammy circle of his arms. "And after tonight, I've got a feeling you'll be less inclined to worry about ending up in eternal hell fire."

My cheek was sticking to his chest. But I didn't care. I let my skin absorb into his. Running my finger up his stomach, catching the little drenched hairs below his belly button.

"I don't care." I didn't know it until I said the words out loud. "All I want to do is make sure Jolene gets better, and make sure she never goes back to that life."

I had no concept of the time as I opened my eyes. I could feel the heat of the afternoon burning behind the garage door, though. A beam of yellow light framing the steel door. I sat up on the pull out bed, wrapped in blankets as if I'd been tucked in as I slept.

My dress was still draped on the arm of the chair opposite, everything left as it had been the night before. The only thing missing was Jake, his muffled voice carrying down from the house above.

I dressed in haste and found myself feeling a little nervous as I climbed the stairs towards the kitchen. Voices falling to silence as I turned the door handle.

I could feel the atmosphere thicken as I walked in. Jake was standing by the island, his palms flat on the counter and his head bowed. As if he'd been engaged in a conversation that brought him no joy. His Mother was standing at the hob, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. Her faded smile awkwardly returning as she caught sight of me.

Josh and Sam were sitting at the table devouring a plate of pancakes, their sister idly reading a book with her feet up on the chair next to her, barely noticing my entrance.

"Sit down, dear." Karen offered, "There's pancakes on the table and I'm making some porridge if you prefer."

The kitchen was still littered with the night before, empty beer cans and chip bags. But nobody seemed to care, and it made me feel more at home. Despite the lull in conversation as I took a seat around the table, I had hope that it was because nobody had expected me to be there.

Sam, still chewing his food, smiled.

"Do you think it'd be ok if I went to see Jolene in the hospital?" He asked, shoving an empty plate towards me.

"Sweetie, we talked about this." Karen said, pointing her wooden spoon at him. "I don't think Mr. Jones would appreciate that."

Perhaps I should have interjected. I could feel Jakes eyes on me, waiting for me to agree or disagree. Ronnie looked up over the lip of her book, and Josh offered me the syrup.

"You don't have to walk on eggshells." I ventured, "I don't have anything to say about my Father that will be positive."

"I already told you." Jake sniffed, "She doesn't want to go back there."

Karen shot her son a knowing look, one that I couldn't be a part of. But I understood the meaning of it. She would protect her flock from the bullshit my family posed, but she would welcome me regardless of it. Whatever it meant, she had to trust that her son had everything under control.

A part of me doubted that she held that much trust in her youngest son. I didn't know why, but I'd seen the careless nature in Sam. His propensity for letting himself run away with frivilous ideas. This and Jolene's chaos was a deadly combination.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you need." Karen offered, putting a bowl of thick and gloopy porridge in front of me.

She sprinkled it with some fruit and looked pleased with herself. The sort of Mother I'd never known. Suddenly I was ravenous and began spooning the mixture into my mouth like I hadn't eaten in days. Maybe I hadn't?

"Don't they feed you over there?" Josh asked, amused by me.

Jake railed his palm against the back of Josh's head, ruffling his curls.

"I know you're joking, but be fucking nice!" He warned, pushing Ronnie's feet off the only empty chair before taking it.

"I am being nice!" Josh replied, shrugging in surprise. "Sorry, Bonnie."

I shook my head. It didn't matter. Sam was still waiting for me to say something to his request. As if what Karen had said didn't answer the question for him.

"So, what do you think?" He continued, "About me being able to go up to the hospital?"

I was still chewing on the blueberries popping against my tongue as I sluiced the porridge around my mouth. Savouring the taste. Wondering if breakfast was always this delicious, or did everything just taste better now that I was free?

I was still formulating an answer when the doorbell went. The ring of it making everyone exchange this strange look of wonder. Perhaps their doorbell was so seldomly pressed it came as a surprise that someone was at the door. It struck me that the Kiszka house was an open door policy. Anyone that knew them well enough to have occasion to visit simply stepped inside.

"I'll get it." Jake said, after realising nobody else would.

It didn't take long for me to hear the voice my brother used when he was trying to be polite, but it was nothing more than a facade to the way he really felt. I could hear the clipped tone, the words appropriate enough but I could imagine his smug little face.

I shot up from the table. Determined to make this problem go away. Feeling as if I owed no more bullshit on their doorstep.

"What do you want, Ben?" I asked, letting Jake step aside as I approached the door.

He didn't look smug at all. There was this pained look in this eyes that I'd never seen before. Like he hadn't slept. His shirt wasn't tucked in and his hair wasn't neatly combed as usual. His chin was trembling, as if he was on the verge of tears he would never allow himself to shed.

He was forlorn. "Can't a brother check up on his sister?"

I almost laughed. "I really don't think you care."

"I do..." He replied, without hesitation, his eyes widening to prove his point. "Of course I care. I've got one sister in the hospital and the other one hiding out in the house across the street. We need you to come home, both of you."

The use of the word 'we' incited an anger in the pit of my stomach I hadn't known burned quite so brightly. It flared in the whites of my eyes and made my palms grow clammy. I looked to Jake, but he simply held the door open and waited to move on my cue.

"Close the door Jake, we're done talking."

He didn't ask questions, he just let the door swing free. When Ben stepped inside and jammed his foot against it closing, only then did he gently move me back. Standing in front. Meeting my brother at eye level.

"Take your foot out of my door, dude." He softly warned, "That's not cool."

He didn't even look at Jake, it was as if he wasn't even there. Like this wasn't his house and he was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"You disobey your Father, you disobey God." He said ominously, "Is that what you want, Bonnie?"

I couldn't entertain him. Every word that spilled out of his mouth now sounded like the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard. Nonsense. The word of God? A tool used to keep me compliant. In fear. I could see his concern laced in his furrowed brow, but it was misplaced.

He wasn't concerned for me. He was concerned with the reaction he would get if he went home empty handed.

"Yes, Ben." I replied, "That is what I want. Ok???"

He'd forged his way into every traumatic moment of my life. Standing on the periphery of every abusive little thing Dad had ever said or done to me. Like a strange little voyeur, living under the same roof but having an entirely different experience.

"You heard her." Jake echoed, kicking my brothers foot aside before slamming the door in his face.

The eggshells were still being walked on as I hurried back to my breakfast. It broke my heart. And I couldn't eat another bite, everything going down in lumps as I sat there fighting back tears. Everyone was silent. I couldn't take it.

"Yes, Sam." I mumbled, trying to find my voice without it breaking on tears. "Get your jacket, we'll go up to the hospital."

His eyes lit up. His smile beamed. Like I'd handed him the holy grail and told him it would grant him unending powers. The sort of joy that was only reserved for the first flushes of love.

I looked at Jake, knowing it wasn't like that for me and him. He wouldn't find joy at being granted access to my hospital bedside. He would be injured at my side, or cutting down the last tongue that ever tried to tell him he could not see me.

I could still feel the ache between my legs that he had left as a reminder of his unwavering devotion. And I knew that whatever was to come would be a testament to that. To the coil wrapped around us both.

I couldn't fathom what was about to happen.

To be continued...

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #fanfic #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader

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ourlittleforever · 1 month ago

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Gifts Given

It's the night before Christmas, and Xander has a gift for Millie.

610 words, rated G

Shameless self indulgent holiday fluff <333

Soft instrumental music filled the living room, the phonograph’s needle adding a pleasant bassline hum to the song; warm light ebbed from the fireplace, dancing across the Christmas tree and presents. Millie hung up the last stocking – one for her father, Grezzo. She smoothed out a wrinkle in the fabric. It was still so strange to think of the old merchant as her father, considering she’d only found out her parentage in the last few months.

Grezzo was coming up to visit Millie and Xander for Christmas the next day. Xander had opted not to take Millie to his family’s estate; he’d said that while his family was eager to meet his new wife, they were maybe a little too eager and might overwhelm Millie.

He was reading a letter from his youngest sister, Tiffany, now. Xander sighed affectionately as he digested the note’s contents. “Please tell Millie I’m very excited to meet her. I will be the best little sister-in-law she’s ever had. Better than Abby will be. I already made friendship bracelets for us,” he read aloud. “God. They’re going to jump you when we get there.”

Millie grinned. “I’ve never had so many people excited to see me.”

She turned to watch Xander set the letter down, then take a sip of his bourbon. The glow of the fireplace set his auburn hair alight. Xander rubbed his scruffy face (Millie asked him to hold off on shaving until the day Grezzo would arrive – he was so handsome with all that stubble…) and patted his lap. “C’mere, pretty girl.”

Millie sat on his good leg, leaning against him. The phonograph looped, the song starting over and lulling Millie into a comfortable, warm, sleepy feeling. She laid a hand on his chest; she could feel the thrum of his heartbeat under her fingers. Her eyes drifted closed. She could fall asleep right there…

“I have something for you,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. He opened up a drawer in the side table and pulled out a tiny box, wrapped in blue paper with a silver ribbon. “Go ahead and open it.”

“It’s not Christmas yet,” she replied sleepily.

“Consider this an early gift, sweetpea.” He handed her the box.

Millie took the gift and inspected the label. To: My Dear Mrs. Thane. She couldn’t suppress her drowsy giggle. “Feels weird to be a Mrs.,” she commented, running her thumb over the label. “I like it.”

“I like it, too.” Xander nuzzled against her.

Millie could sense his anticipation, so she tore into the paper, then opened the box. “Oh!”

Inside was a set of two rings: one was a simple silver band; the other had a gorgeous light pink gemstone and a few small white stones on either side of it. Xander kissed her cheek. “May I, my little love?”

“Xanderrrrr!” Millie laughed as he kissed her hand then slipped the rings on. “Why two?”

“Well, I didn’t – couldn’t – get you an engagement ring, and I hadn’t gotten you a wedding band before we went to the courthouse. I figured you should have both. These slot together – see?” He took Millie’s hand and kissed it again. “It’s morganite. The jeweler said it means we’ll be happy forever. Not that we needed a rock to tell us that. And I’m sure Grezzo’ll be happy I actually have a ring for you.” Xander chuckled as he watched her examine the rings closely. “You like them?”

“Oh, Xander… I love them.” Millie sniffled. “You’re too good to me.” She kissed him, smiling against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

She hugged him tight, kissing all over his stubbly face, making him laugh. “Merry Christmas.”

#self ship #selfship #self insert #yumeship #f/o community #romantic f/o #milliefic #the cure you need

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year ago

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A Little Christmas Magic

A PEDROSTORIES SECRET SANTA GIFT FIC

A/N: Huge thank you to the moderators of @pedrostories for organizing this event again! I had so much fun getting in the holiday spirit while writing this, and I cannot wait to read all of the other festive stories that others have written! This story follows along with the same Frankie/Reader pairing as a few of the other things I've written, but it can also be read as a one shot. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone who sees this!!

Gift Tag: SURPRISE @something-tofightfor - I deceived you with my decoy Joel story, because THIS was what I was actually working on. Sorry for the white lie, but I hope you like what and who I chose (you gave me some REALLY excellent choices in Joel, Frankie, Jack and Oberyn) to write about in the snow. And I hope you have the best, merriest damn Christmas ever. I love you!!

WC: 4,150

Warnings: some brief smut mentions, talking about having divorced/ separated parents

Summary: When Frankie needs a little help making Christmas special for his son, you are more than happy to step in and lend a hand. The again, you're more than happy to do just about anything for him.

As soon as he came through the door, you could tell that something was off.

All night long, while your home had been filled with friends and family, Frankie’s smile had been constant. You saw it in his eyes and in the way the corners of them folded into crinkles when he laughed. You felt it on his lips when they found your cheek as he passed you in the kitchen. You heard it in his voice when he thanked everyone for coming. It was the first time the two of you had hosted Thanksgiving since you’d started living together, it was his year to have Ollie for the holiday, and Frankie had been undeniably happy.

But by the time he got home from dropping Ollie back off with Tori, something had changed. What could have happened, though? He’s only been gone for twenty five minutes.

You knew that Frankie and his ex got along well, so you doubted that they had gotten into an argument. He didn’t seem annoyed or angry. There wasn’t a scowl on his face, he hadn’t thrown his hat. If anything, you realized, he looked almost sad, his mouth downturned slightly, a sort of distance in his eyes that wasn’t there when he left. You watched him lock the door and drop his keys into the bowl on the table beside it from where you stood in the dining room, your heart clenching as you pushed the last chair back into place. Oh, Frankie, what’s wrong?

“Hey, you.” You crossed your arms loosely and leaned against the arched doorway that separated the living room from the dining room, waiting as he stepped on the heel of one shoe to remove it before doing the same with the other, not bothering with the laces.

He sighed, the quiet sound a confirmation that something was amiss. But as he straightened up to look at you, there was a small smile on his face. “Hey, Flamingo.”

You huffed out a breathy laugh, your lips quirked to the side, and pushed away from the doorframe. “You know? I break my ankle one time, two years ago and…” You shook your head and rolled your eyes playfully, Frankie crossing the room to slip his hands around your waist. Yours landed on his chest, the right one sliding up his neck to twine your fingers through the curls behind his ear. “How long are you gonna call me that, hmm, Fish?”

You already knew what his response would be, but it still sent a rush of warmth through you to hear him say it. “Forever,” he mumbled, leaving a whiskered kiss to the corner of your mouth, his fingers curling in the fabric of your shirt. “Everyone else gone?”

“Mhmm. Pope, Yovanna, Will, and my sister all cleared out right after you. Benny and Alana just left about five minutes ago. Alana insisted on helping me get the kitchen cleaned, so she put Benny on dish duty and-”

That earned you a small chuckle and assured you that whatever had changed Frankie’s mood wasn’t something too serious. Good. I still need to know what it is, though. “Oh, I’m sure Benjamin was thrilled about that.”

One of your earrings had gotten flipped upside down without you noticing, and Frankie reached up to fix it. You closed your eyes and let out a hum at the brush of his thumb over the skin of your earlobe. “He didn’t seem to mind.” With a shrug you opened your eyes, and they were immediately met with his deep brown ones. “And Quinn had just fallen asleep, so they weren’t in a rush to leave because they didn’t want her to wake up as soon as they picked up the car seat. It was actually a really big help.”

“Good.” He gave you a half-smile, leaning in just long enough to press his lips to yours. “I’m glad Miller pulled his weight.” You felt him tighten his grip on your hip before he dropped his hands from your body and turned towards the couch, sinking into it with a groan.

“Hey...” You tilted your head and nudged his foot with yours, Frankie looking up at you. “What’s wrong?” Frowning, you sat next to him, pulling one leg up and tucking it beneath you. “Is everything okay with Ollie?”

He nodded, letting out a quiet laugh as his warm, wide palm came to rest on your knee. “Yeah, Ollie’s great.” He adjusted his position on the couch, making himself more comfortable and releasing a few small pops from his spine. “Your cornbread was a real hit with him. He told me again in the car how good it was.”

You leaned your shoulder into the couch cushions and laughed. “I’m glad he’s a fan.” Watching the little boy’s face light up with glee as he tasted his first bite had been among the highlights of your day. “Looked like he was having fun running around with you and the guys during your football game, too.” Watching Frankie scoop his son up under one arm while Ollie’s tiny hands gripped the ball to run them both into the endzone he’d set up in your backyard had been another. The whole damn day was a highlight. “He was very excited about his touchdown.”

“He was.” Frankie’s fingers moved lazily over your thigh as he sighed, the remnants of his smile fading. “He had a good day. We all did.” He gave you a light squeeze as he swallowed. “I’m upset because -” He stopped himself, closing his eyes with a quick shake of his head that tossed his curls. “No, upset isn’t the right…” Trailing off, he blinked and resumed the motion of his fingers. “Ollie was with us today, which means he’s with Tori for Christmas.” He rolled his eyes. “And, obviously, I knew that already.”

Nodding, you reached your arm across the backrest of the couch so that you could run your knuckle up and down the curve where his neck met his shoulder. “Right.” Eyebrows pinched together, you tilted your head. “You guys alternate. But you’ll still go over there to see him on Christmas morning for gifts, yeah?”

You loved how hands on Frankie was when it came to raising Oliver, how much he wanted to be involved in his son’s life, and you were extremely thankful that he had an excellent co-parenting partner in Tori. Given his past - especially the time period just before and after Ollie was born - you knew that the woman could easily make things difficult for Frankie when it came to shared custody. But despite the fact that it was too late for it to matter for their relationship, you also knew that Tori genuinely believed that he had put all of his mistakes and the worst of his demons behind him, and that he was more than capable of being the father that their son deserved. And she’s right.

But your frown returned when Frankie’s answer to your questions wasn’t what you were expecting it to be. “Not this year.” What? Why? Your expression asked the questions for you, prompting him to continue. “Remember when I told you her parents finally retired? Back in like March, I think?”

You did, so you nodded. “Yeah, I remember. But what does that have to do with Christmas?”

“Well, they weren’t sure it was going to happen until it did so they didn’t say anything earlier, but they pulled the trigger on a cabin. Steve’s been talking about it for years. Anyway, it’s officially theirs as of next week, and they decided they wanted to host Christmas there.”

You didn’t see the problem yet. You knew Frankie was willing to spend as much time as he needed to in the car even for just an hour or so with his kid. “Okay… Where is this cabin?” It must be pretty far if-

He let out a humorless sound. “Upstate New York.” Your eyes widened, brows jumping at his response. “Yeah. Usually it’s the New Yorkers buyin’ places down here when they retire, but they’re doing the reverse.”

There it is. You winced. “Oh.”

Keeping his hand on your knee, he brought the other one up to run it back over his hair as he blew out a breath. “And I’m happy for them, you know? Because I know they’ve wanted that for a long time. And it’s great or Ollie, too, because it means he gets to do new things. Maybe even see snow. I’m sure he’d go nuts for that.”

Oh he absolutely would. “Of course he would.” What kid doesn’t lose their shit at the first sign of snow?

“So I’m not upset, because I know he’s gonna have a damn blast. it’s just that… This is the first year I won’t be with him on Christmas. And now he's old enough to remember things, and…” He looked at you, and you could instantly feel the ache in his eyes as it settled in your chest. Oh, Frankie.

He didn’t want to be absent from Ollie’s first real Christmas memories. Even if it was out of his hands.

“Hey.” You spoke softly, still dragging your knuckle soothingly over the skin above his collar. “I get it.” Unfolding your knee, you repositioned yourself so that both of your legs were draped over his lap, moving your body closer to his. He adjusted by resting one arm over your thighs and the other around your back, never looking away from your face. “You know I grew up with the same every other holiday thing with my parents, yeah?” The huge difference being that my parents ended up hating each other and you two do not.

Frankie nodded wordlessly, but you explained anyway, wanting to make sure he got your point.

“I’d do a holiday with one parent on the actual day, and then I’d do it again with the other on a different day. And you know what that taught me?”

He shook his head. “What did it teach you?”

“It taught me that calendar dates don’t mean too much. Celebrating Christmas was just as good on the 26th or the 28th or the 30th as it was on the 25th. And some of my favorite holiday memories? They aren’t even from Christmas day. They’re from all the things leading up to it, like decorating the tree and baking cookies. Things you can do-” You lifted your shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, quirking your mouth to the side. “Basically any time from tonight until the end of December, now that the turkey’s had its day.” You reached up to brush a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. “Christmas magic doesn’t have to be a one day thing. We just have to make the most of it the next time Ollie’s with us, that’s all.”

Frankie stared at you for a few seconds, lips parting as he let out a breath. “We. Us.” He repeated your words, affection slowly changing the sadness in his eyes into something warmer. Yeah, Frankie, you don’t have to do things alone anymore. You have me. Always. “You’re incredible, you know that?” He reached up to encircle your wrist with his fingers, bringing your hand away from his neck and lifting it up to kiss the back of it. His mumbled words and warm breath tickled your skin. “Fucking amazing. You wanna help me make things special for my kid?” Of course I do.

“I sure do.” You twisted your wrist to free it from his hold, Frankie letting go of you so that you could slide your palms over his cheeks, taking his face between them. “I love you, Francisco Morales. And I happen to be really fond of that kid of yours, too. So we’re gonna brainstorm and come up with some things we can do to make sure that he has some great memories with his Dad, and-”

He didn’t let you finish that sentence though, surging forward to catch your lips with his, his tongue slipping into your mouth to lick the rest of your words right out of it. Taken by surprise, you gasped into the kiss which only spurred him on more, and in one swift motion he had you on your back, laying you down on the couch and laying his weight on top of you. You still had your hands on his face, but they slid to the back of his neck and head, fingers threading through his hair to pull a groan into your mouth.

“I love you so goddamn much.” He murmured the words against your lips. “Been thinkin’ about how lucky I am to have you all night.” He nipped at your lower lip, then let his kisses rove behind your ear so that his next words couldn’t be missed. “You know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself while everyone was here?” You felt the tip of his tongue flick out to dampen your skin, and you sucked in a breath at the sensation. “Fucking impossible.”

He rolled his hips into yours on the last word, and you couldn’t keep a whimper from slipping out at the way the motion stirred heat low in your belly. “You didn’t keep your hands to yourself, Frankie,” you reminded him, though you doubted he needed reminding. One of his hands started moving down your body, his touch trailing towards your waistline. You let out another near-moan at the combination of what he was currently doing, and the memory of what he’d done earlier - when he pulled you into the laundry room, his deft fingers delving down the front of your pants while his mouth silenced any noises you made. Because we’d never hear the end of it if Will or Maddy heard and came to see what was going on.

“I didn’t,” he agreed, dragging the tip of his nose along your throat to drop a kiss to your pulse point. “But that was just the tip of the iceberg.” He caught you off guard again, the pads of his fingers sliding beneath your underwear and over your slick skin. “Now that we’re alone?” You felt his mischievous grin, felt the gravely rumble of his voice through his chest- and then you felt him plunge two fingers inside you. At that you cried out and he let you, no one left to keep quiet for. “I’m gonna finish what I started earlier.”

– – –

Two weeks later, you still caught yourself thinking about Thanksgiving night, and you knew that you would be for a long time.

Frankie had made good on his claim, making you come twice right there on the couch before he took you to bed and took you apart all over again. It was almost dawn by the time the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms, completely spent and sated, and since neither of you had to work the following day, you spent Black Friday with bare skin and lazy, lingering kisses instead of fighting with crowds at the shopping centers.

But on the Saturday after, an idea came to you - an idea about how Frankie could still make a special memory with Ollie even though he wouldn’t see him at all the week of Christmas. Oh, it’ll be perfect. Excitedly, you brought it up with Frankie, explaining what you’d thought of.

“So it’s about an hour away from here, but it’s worth the ride. They set up a whole Christmas town with a little train, and they hire sand artists to make these big elaborate winter-themed sculptures. There’s carolers and they do a big tree lighting event with ice skating and frozen hot chocolate and all kinds of activities for kids. I think Ollie would love it.”

Frankie agreed enthusiastically, arms winding around you from behind to hold you close. “Sounds great.” I didn’t even tell you the best part yet. He dropped a kiss to the line of your jaw. And I’m not going to. “Thank you. For coming up with something.”

You grinned, your arms covering his where they wrapped around your belly. “Told you, Frankie. We’re a team.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his beard scratching your cheek as he tightened his hold. “We are.”

He’d cleared the trip with Tori, even though she’d already okayed any activities or day trips Frankie wanted to take Ollie on when he had him, the woman agreeing with both of you that it sounded like something that the little boy would enjoy. And at your suggestion, the two of you had invited Benny and Alana to come with Quinn. She was just over a year old and would likely sleep through most of the festivities in her stroller, but you knew that the Millers wouldn’t pass up on a group outing, and you knew that Frankie wouldn’t view their presence as an intrusion on his time with Ollie. They’re family, too.

So when it came time for Ollie to spend the week with you and Frankie, the three of you climbed into his truck - Benny driving his little family separately in case they had to leave early - and headed east to a small town just outside of the Disney zone, called Celebration.

There was a 50/50 shot that the thing you were trying to keep a secret until the last minute would be spoiled upon your arrival, banners or posters advertising the wintery phenomenon that visitors were about to witness, but luck was on your side. There were plenty of signs and decorations, so there was no missing the blocked off area that the town had designated for the holiday event, and it was just like you told Frankie it would be - food stalls and little craft and gift stalls set up to look like gingerbread houses, carolers in Victorian era costumes walking the street and singing Christmas songs new and old, an enormous pine tree towering over everything in the center of the square and dripping in bright lights. Even though it was 65 degrees and there were palm trees lining the streets, it was almost enough to make you feel like you were in an old world Christmas market, or like it was about to start snowing at any moment.

And you were right about Ollie’s reaction to everything, his already large brown eyes going wide as saucers when he saw the big man in red waving and tossing candy canes to the crowd. “Daddy! Santa’s here!” He grabbed Frankie’s hand, pointing vehemently in the direction of the man in the Santa suit. “He came all the way far from the North pole! Do you see him?!”

The joy on his little face was mirrored in Frankie’s, and your heart swelled at seeing them both wear the same expression. “I see him! He did come a long way, huh?” Ollie nodded, curls just like his father’s bouncing as he did. “We should probably go say hi, then, since he came all the way down here to see you.”

“Yeah! C’mon Daddy! Let’s go! C’mon Uncle Benny!”

You had to take a breath when your name was added to the excited babble, Ollie’s empty hand slipping into yours so he was between you and Frankie, his gleeful grin beaming up at you. “Come and see Santa with us too!”

“Yeah,” Frankie spoke softly, stepping close and giving you a wink. “Come see Santa with us.”

Blinking back the unexpected tears brought on by Ollie’s enthusiastic inclusion, you winkled your nose and smiled down at him. “Do you think I’m on the good list this year?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he answered by springing up and down, still holding both yours and Frankie’s hands. “Yeah! You’re on the good list already because you’re always really nice and fun and you’re always making my Dad and me happy.”

You let out a chuckle at that, glancing up at Frankie, the sight of his smile enough to send a rush of warmth through you. “She sure does, Buddy.” He jostled Ollie’s hand. “Now let’s go before he has to get back to his workshop to finish making presents.”

Keeping Ollie between you, Frankie started walking towards the area designated for photos with Santa, but he leaned in over the little boy’s head to kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear. “You were right. This is great. And he’s gonna remember this just the same as if we were doing it on Christmas Day.” Ollie turned to say something to Alana, and Frankie looked down at him before finding your eyes again. “Thank you.”

It was your turn to lean over and brush your lips to his cheek. “Anytime, Morales.”

For the next hour and a half the six of you strolled the area, stopping occasionally at the different displays or to take pictures or grab a snack from one of the booths. But the highlight of the night, and what you were looking the most forward to since you remembered that this event existed, came at 7pm - when “snow” started falling, a chorus of gasps and shrieks rising up from the crowd.

“What! It’s snowin’?!” Ollie’s incredulous question joined the dozens from other children gaping in awe up at their parents and family members as big puffy flakes fell on their cheeks and noses. “How’s it snowin’ if it’s not even cold?”

Lifting him up, Frankie answered without missing a beat, leaning in to bop Ollie’s nose with the tip of his. “Christmas magic, Buddy.”

You snapped a picture of the two of them, making a mental note to find a photo ornament to put it in so that the moment would have a place on the tree for years to come. That done, you watched them play in the faux snow - a biodegradable non-toxic substance that would be gone in a half hour but that would provide a lifelong memory - until you felt Benny’s elbow nudge yours.

“Hey. You did real good.” Turning your head, you met Benny’s eyes, the younger man already looking at you. “Ollie’s beside himself, obviously, but I mean… with Fish.” He smiled, the expression soft and warm, a sort of platonic affection for you almost palpable in it that you weren’t expecting even though you were quick to call him your friend now, too. “I’ve never seen him happier than he is with you.”

He didn’t wait to let that sink in though, nodding over to his wife before clearing his throat and stepping up to where Frankie and his son were playing. “Hey, Olliegator, I think I saw penguins over there. You wanna come see ‘em? We can show Quinny.”

Just as Benny knew he would, the little boy ran over, shouting in agreement, leaving you standing in the snowfall with Frankie. There were easily a few hundred people around you, but as he came to stand in front of you, his hands on your waist and big white flakes fluttering all around him, it was as though the two of you were in your own little snowglobe, sharing your own private moment.

“Hey, you.” You spoke through a smile that pulled at your cheeks, your hands resting on the rolled up cuffs of his unnecessary for the weather but seasonally appropriate flannel, thumbs brushing over the worn material and into the crook of his elbow.

He smiled back at you, brown eyes brimming with affection. “Hey, Flamingo.” Reaching up, he plucked a flake from your hair, the substance vanishing as soon as it hit his warm skin, just like real snow. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

You moved your head from side to side to feign thought. “Maybe.” Pressing your lips together, you took the bottom one between your teeth. “Yes. I knew about this. My sister was really into chorus in highschool, and her music teacher suggested that she try out for the carol troupe one year so-” You shrugged. “I’ve been to this a few times because of that, but that was ages ago. I hadn’t thought about it in years. And then when you mentioned that Tori’s parents’ place was up in New York and that Ollie might get to see snow…” You lifted one hand from his arm, palm skyward to collect the sudsy white stuff. “I remembered this.”

The kiss he gave you then was brief, but you knew there would be much more where it came from when you were no longer surrounded by so many strangers. “Ollie’s gonna remember this forever.” He nodded, the curve of his forehead resting against yours. “And so am I. Merry Christmas.”

“It’s not Christmas yet, Frankie,” you mumbled through your grin.

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not. But with enough Christmas magic? Does it matter?”

You shook your head, nudging his nose with yours. “Nope. Sure doesn’t. Merry Christmas, Francisco.”

Fun Fact: The event that I based this fic on is real! It's called Now Snowing, and it's been going on for 25 years! I embellished it a little bit for the story, but you really can see "snow" (the same stuff they use in movies and TV) every night from the end of November through December :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @cannedsoupsucks @dihra-vesa @littlemisspascal @alraedesigns @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @thescarletfang @trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharine @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @Noisynightmarepoetry @Severin-proud

#pedrostories secret santa #pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift23 #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fic #merry christmas!

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lh44girl · 2 months ago

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“One More Night in the Snow”

Lewis had been the one to suggest a holiday trip to Switzerland. “You’ve never seen the Christmas lights in Zurich, have you?” he’d asked over the phone, his deep, soothing voice sparking a warmth inside you. “And I’ll teach you how to snowboard. You’ll love it, Oh and you’re staying at my place No questions asked, No hotels nor AirBNB” “But ..!! “No buts “

You’d hesitated at first, unsure if it was a good idea to accept such a generous invitation from someone who was technically still a friend.It was an expensive trip.

But Lewis had a way of convincing you, his enthusiasm infectious. “Come on,” he’d said with that signature grin you could hear even through the phone. “It’s Christmas. Let me spoil you a little.”

And so, here you were, standing on his balcony in the crisp Swiss air, gazing at the twinkling lights below. The city was enchanting, but your thoughts kept drifting to the man behind you.

“You’re quiet,” Lewis said, stepping out onto the balcony. He wrapped a blanket around your shoulders before standing close, his warmth radiating through the fabric.

“Just taking it all in,” you replied softly.

He leaned on the railing beside you, his eyes fixed on you rather than the view. “I’m glad you came.”

When you turned to face him, you found his gaze intense, his brown eyes searching yours. The moment hung between you, charged with something unsaid.

The following days were a whirlwind of snowy adventures. Lewis was patient as he guided you through your first attempts at snowboarding, laughing softly whenever you fell but always offering his hand to pull you back up. He was attentive, always checking if you were warm enough, if you were having fun, if you needed anything at all.

But it was back at the chalet where things began to shift. One evening, as you folded laundry in the guest room, you caught him in the doorway, his broad frame leaning against the wood, his gaze locked on you.

“You’re staring,” you said with a small laugh, trying to brush off the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice low. “You’re beautiful. And I don’t think I’ve had someone like you here before.”

You glanced at him, confused. “Someone like me?”

“Someone who feels… right,” he said, taking a step closer. “You’re neat, thoughtful, kind. And don’t get me started on the baking.”

You chuckled nervously, but his expression remained serious.

Later, as you laid out your delicates to dry—neatly folded lace and silk—he happened to walk past. His steps faltered, his jaw tightening as his gaze flickered over the sight. He quickly looked away, but the image stayed with him, stirring something primal and protective inside him.

The next day, his family arrived for dinner. You’d expected to feel out of place, but they welcomed you warmly. His mother was charming, his sisters treated you like one of their own, and his niece and nephew adored you.

Lewis watched it all unfold from the edge of the room, his heart full. You fit so seamlessly into his world that he found himself imagining you there permanently.

That evening, when you mentioned needing to leave for the airport, his mood darkened. “You don’t have to go,” he said quietly. “Stay one more night.”

You hesitated, torn. His mother and niece chimed in, urging you to stay. Finally, you relented, agreeing to leave in the morning.

That night, something shifted. After the others had gone to bed, Lewis found you in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book. He sat beside you, close enough that his knee brushed yours.

“I’m glad you stayed,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, and the intensity in his eyes stole your breath. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hand lingered, his fingers grazing your cheek.

“Lewis…” you began, but your words faltered as he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.

“I know we’re just friends,” he murmured, his voice heavy with restraint. “But you have no idea how hard it is to keep it that way.”

Your heart pounded as his eyes searched yours. “Then don’t,” you whispered, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them.

The kiss was slow at first, his lips brushing yours like he was savoring the moment. But the heat between you built quickly, his arms pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, his gaze dark and filled with longing. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he admitted.

And as you rested your head against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you realized you’d never felt so at home.

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novelmonger · 2 months ago

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1, 3, 6, 8-10, 12, 14-17, 20, 21, and 26-28, please?

What song makes you feel better?

Oh, there's lots. One I often find myself turning to in hard times is "Dearly Loved" by Shaylee Simeone.

3. Reading or writing? Why?

I mean, it depends on if the reading or writing is good, doesn't it? ;P Generally, I guess I would say reading, because it's easier to do. But writing is generally more fulfilling, I guess, because I'm creating something.

6. What’s your favorite candle scent?

As I've already answered, lilac is my top favorite. A close second would be fresh linen, though. Or just anything that has a light, clean, soapy sort of smell, really.

8. Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

What a weird question. I don't normally think of texture as being nostalgic... But you know, now that I think about it.... I don't know if anyone will know what I'm talking about, but there's this particular kind of floor that's...concrete, maybe? But it's speckled, like there's a bunch of rocks mixed in together before it's smoothed out. And it's not just grey; the ones I'm remembering were green or pink. The floor isn't rough, exactly, but it's more porous than a tile floor or something. Anyway, we had that floor in a couple houses growing up, so the feel of that against bare feet is pretty nostalgic.

9. Best childhood moment?

The best? Oof, that's hard to pick. Okay, this is going to be a super nerdy answer, but one of the best was probably the Christmas when my brother and I got a Nintendo 64 ^^' We'd played it at people's houses before, so we knew just how fun it could be, but it was always one of those luxury items we assumed we'd never get. But then my aunt and uncle got us one! And completely changed our lives forever.

10. When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

Hmm, trying to think of another one...nothing specific is coming to mind, but it was probably while playing Spider-Man with my sisters. We tend to get very giggly, especially when things start glitching out or Peter dies and flops down in a ridiculous position.

12. What calms you down?

Psalm 121 is my favorite, and reciting that to myself is really good for making me feel better when I'm anxious about something. "The Lord is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night."

14. What's something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Christmas! It's one of my favorite times of the year, and this one is shaping up to be really good. I don't have work, I get to go to my sister's Christmas Eve service and hear her sing in the choir, and my whole immediate family will be together for Christmas for the first time since...I don't even know when! And we get to do it in our new house, which is very exciting.

15. Comfort food?

Gotta throw a shout-out to @bunnyscar's curry with sweet potatoes. Perfectly warming on a cold winter's day.

16. What’s something you want to create soon?

Aw, if I hadn't just finished it, I could have said my next AMV! But I do actually have a YTP idea that I'd really like to make once the holidays are past and I can devote time to it....

17. How do you feel best loved?

As I answered before, Quality Time is my top love language. Gifts comes second, though. A truly thoughtful gift that shows you know me and what I like, or even better, a "just 'cause" gift? Oh, my heart! I've held onto silly little trinkets for years just because someone gave them to me as a gift and that means so much.

20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Hmm...okay, because it's Christmastime, this one popped into my head. One year on Christmas Eve, my brother and I were the only people awake, and we were in that very giggly stage of tiredness. So we took all the presents from under the tree (except for one that was in a big box) and put them in the tree instead, sticking them in all the branches. I don't remember when exactly this was, but we were teenagers, and at that point, most of the presents for my siblings and I were usually books/movies/games, so they were mostly relatively light rectangular packages, so it worked pretty well. It was pointless and silly, but we were very proud of ourselves XD

21. Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Already answered this - tea! Especially black tea, but I also like certain fruit teas. I hate the taste of coffee, and hot cocoa is usually so sickly sweet, after drinking one cup, I don't feel like drinking another for a loooooong time.

26. If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

I don't really care where it is, but I would love to live at least close by @rainintheevening and @sergeanttomycaptain. Even if we had to build a really weird house with like three wings or three floors with different temperature controls or something, if we could at least have a central area to hang out in together, that would be awesome <3

27. Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

I have two brown thumbs, unfortunately :/ I'm prone to killing any plants under my care, though I'm going to try to actually plant some things in the spring to spruce up my window well. Currently, I have an anthurium(?) plant on my windowsill that seems to be doing okay so far:

It put out some leaves earlier this year that started out red, so I thought they were going to be the flowers, but then they slowly turned green??? But now I've actually got a nice, bright red flower just in time for Christmas!

28. What are you proudest of?

My...stick-to-it-ive-ness? I guess? Like...it will probably take me longer than someone who's actually ambitious, but if I decide I want to get a project of some sort done, it will get done. Eventually.

Soft Asks

#ask and you shall receive #valiantarcher #ask games

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she-karev · 2 months ago

Text

Christmas Proposal (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister Proposal Imagine)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of One

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 17

AN: Happy December guys! I decided to post this early before Christmas because I couldn’t resist. Like and reblog below and let me know what you think.

Summary: Andrew and Amber have a Christmas celebration to themselves where Andrew surprises Amber with an engagement ring as a present

Words: 1845

December 25th, 2020

“Wake up, it’s Christmas.” Andrew gleefully says to his sleeping girlfriend in bed. On a day off they would normally sleep in bed all day but since it’s Christmas, DeLuca made it his mission to celebrate this holiday right with the woman he loves.

Amber responds to Andrew’s cheery greeting by pulling the blanket over her head yearning for sleep instead. He chuckles at this rebellious stance before gently pulling the blanket away down to her shoulders. She still has her eyes closed trying to ignore her boyfriend who kisses her cheek.

“Come on sleepyhead.” Andrew lightly shakes Amber who groans keeping her eyes shut, “Don’t you want to see the gifts me and Santa Claus left under the tree?”

“I asked Santa for permission to sleep in for Christmas clearly he didn’t get my letter.”

“He did he just doesn’t give gifts to people on the naughty list.” Andrew teases before pulling the blanket away completely revealing Amber in her green silk button down pajamas, “Now up and at them, those gifts aren’t gonna unwrap themselves.”

Amber groans but reluctantly obeys as she is fully awake now getting out of bed with her boyfriend, “This gift of yours better make up for it, and I expect coffee with a peppermint stick stirrer.”

Andrew and Amber enter the kitchen first where they find Jazz already by his bowl waiting for food. Amber dumps the leftover chicken from last night into the metal dish that their dog salvages up like it’s his last meal. Amber rubs the black tripod’s head affectionately.

“Merry Christmas.” Amber grabs two peppermint sticks from the pantry and waits for Andrew to fill the mugs. He hands her a Grinch head mug filled with their caffeine while he holds his Max the dog head mug. Amber stirs in the peppermint stick handing Andrew his that he puts inside his cup as well. They clink their mugs before sipping their drinks.

“Okay let’s open the gifts so I can sleep in like I am supposed to, lets go.” Amber sips coffee as she and her boyfriend enter the living room where there is a medium sized tree with red and white ornaments sprinkled in fake snow. Under the tree are gift wrapped boxes addressed to each other as well as their family members celebrating Christmas in their respective homes as they all agreed it’s safer due to the pandemic.

Andrew plays ‘Rockin Around The Christmas Tree’ over the home stereo to set the mood before picking up his small gift wrapped box addressed to him from Amber. He closely inspects the box trying to guess what could be inside the thin Christmas gift wrap shaking it to discern the mystery.

“Is it a gift card?” Andrew asks his girlfriend who is sitting on the couch lazily drinking coffee for energy, “Or is it cash that you got from our joint bank account?”

“Just open the damn present please.” Amber tells him grouchy.

Andrew raises an eyebrow at that, “Wow someone’s a real Grinch this year.”

“Ba hum bug.” Amber sarcastically responds pulling her peppermint stick out of her mug and sampling it in her mouth.

Andrew opens his gift, tearing the wrapping before being left with a small white box that he opens revealing his present. A navy-blue scrub cap with constellation print is inside the box and the sight of a personalized piece of headwear for work takes him by surprise. He pulls it out and feels the soft fabric between his fingers before looking at his grumpy girlfriend with a touched smile.

“You got me my very own scrub cap?” Andrew asks Amber with a smile.

Amber shrugs nonchalantly, “The ones at the hospital are plain and they’re pretty itchy after not washing it properly so I figured I should save both of us from headlice. Plus, you said you liked star gazing as a kid and your favorite color is blue so I wanted to combine the two.”

Andrew looks at Amber with love seeing that despite how cool she acts she put a lot of thought into this gift, “It’s a lot of work for a cap Bella. I always knew underneath that hard shell there was a softie.”

“As long as you don’t tell the interns, so they don’t walk all over me.” Amber stands up and finds her gift under the tree. It is a large gold giftwrapped box that makes her happy given its large size.

“Ooh it’s always a good sign when it’s huge. What is it? A laptop? A pair of Gucci shoes?” Amber guesses with a smile before frowning as a dark thought crosses her mind, “Oh god tell me you didn’t get me a puppy left inside a box with no holes all night.”

Andrew chuckles, “Don’t worry it’s not alive or dead, just open it and see what’s inside.”

Amber smiles in delight, “Don’t mind if I do.” She quickly unwraps the gold cover and opens the plain box inside taken back by what’s inside. She pulls out a silver gift wrapped box from inside that takes her by surprise. She looks at Andrew who grins at her expression. Amber decides not to question it and seeks the true gift inside.

Once again, she unwraps and opens the box pulling out another gift box that is smaller than the previous two. Amber groans at yet another gift to unwrap but does so once again before a smaller gift-wrapped square box takes place once again.

“Oh, for the love of Santa!” Amber exclaims growing frustrated while her boyfriend chuckles at this, “Tell me this is the last one because if there is another box inside, I will rip up that very thoughtful scrub cap I got you.”

“It’s the last one I promise, your gift, your real gift is inside that one I swear.” Amber scowls at her boyfriend skeptical, “I swear now come on open it and see what I got you, I put a lot of thought into it.”

“You better have.” Amber unwraps the gift and opens the box reaching inside to grab something while talking, “I’m telling you right now if you got me Russian nesting dolls inside these nesting gift boxes I will…”

Her words stop short once she pulls out a blue leather ring box that feels light in her hands yet carries so much weight as her mind races processing this. Amber takes a moment before opening the small box widening her eyes at the platinum ring tucked inside with the round diamond standing out as it’s accented with two baguette moissanite side stones.

Her brain is able to process that this is the kind of ring you propose with, meaning Andrew’s gift for her is an engagement ring that follows with a proposal. The shocked resident turns around to face Andrew DeLuca and gasps at the sight still holding the small box with their possible future inside it. He is on the floor on one knee and smiling at her before taking her hand that is holding the ring box to hold it in his instead. Andrew looks up at her with so much love feeling that this moment is long overdue.

“I told you I put a lot of thought into it.” Andrew says before starting this moment he has imagined in his head for months now, “But then again there is not much to think about when it comes to loving you and spending the rest of my life with you. From the moment I met you I knew I was done for, even when I spilled coffee on you and almost broke your nose.”

Full Story Link

Amber chuckles at that memory as tears start to form in her eyes while grinning at the man she loves. This moment has her heart taking an extra beat but for the first time it’s not from panic it’s from joy.

“And even when you were rightfully awful to me, I was under your spell Bella. And I have been falling for this snarky, intelligent, sexy and funny woman ever since. You amaze me, you challenge me, you enrage me, you make me feel everything I didn’t think I could feel for one person. And I know this has been a hard year for us and there was a time we didn’t think we could come back to each other.”

Amber remembers that challenging time when Andrew was in the middle of a breakdown and tarnished their relationship as a result. Back then Amber didn’t think she could be with someone like that after the pain her mom and brother put her through.

But eventually she realized that as much as he hurt her when he was manic, he showed her that he is serious about his mental health routine and not going back to that dark time in their lives. After working through her own mental health issues with PTSD and slowly letting her guard down she forgave him and even bought a house with him seeing that he was all in this time.

She can see in this moment that he is more committed to their relationship than ever before as he continues with his proposal as Amber grins with tears glistening in her eyes.

“But we did because you and I are innegibile, we are undeniable and nothing gets in the way of that, not mental illness, not our families no one and nothing makes me question that you are the one for me. We didn’t let our problems break us down we let it make us stronger and better, and I want us to keep doing that for the rest of our lives. So today I ask you a very important question in the privacy of our home where the only opinion that matters is ours.”

Andrew takes the ring box from Amber’s hand and holds it open in front of Amber who has a single tear roll down her cheek at this gesture. He doesn’t feel nervous at this impending question, if anything he feels like it’s a question that has been on the tip of his tongue for three years now.

“Amber Stevie Karev, I love you, I’m in love with you, you’re the love of my life.” Andrew smiles as he asks the most important question in their relationship, “Will you marry me?”

Amber’s vision becomes blurry from the tears before she answers with a wide smile, “Yes.”

Andrew stands up smiling at her answer that he needs to clarify to make sure he’s not dreaming, “Yes?”

“Yes, you gorgeous idiot I’ll marry you come here.” Amber pulls him in for a kiss as tears stream down her cheek in joy before pulling back with both of them smiling. DeLuca slides the engagement ring on her finger causing her to gasp at the perfect fit and how it looks, “Best Christmas ever.”

Andrew nods in agreement looking down at his beloved with so much tenderness, “Best Christmas ever.” They kiss again celebrating this holiday and their engagement.

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