#or the 'take your parents' car' 'no' >>> he takes his parents car thing

[wileys-russo]

christmas showcase II a.russo

lil christmas fic for the maternal instincts universe christmas showcase II a.russo

"what so the state wide budget gets cut, something entirely out of your hands, and now the school expects teachers to pay for the supplies for christmas crafts for the kids?" your girlfriend scoffed in disbelief as you smiled, dumping another armful of stationary into the trolley you'd tasked her to push.

"yeah thats the reality year round love, did you ever have a pizza party in school? teacher funded." you hummed, alessias eyes widening even further as you squatted down, thumbing through the craft paper for the colours you needed.

"what!" "mhm, we've discussed this before less." "well yeah, but-well-" you stood back up and dropped the packs of craft paper onto your ever growing stack of supplies. "butts are for ashtrays, not conversations." you teased, lightly patting her cheek and striding on ahead.

"ugh please don't teacher talk me." alessia groaned pushing the cart after you. "then don't speak like one of my students." you stuck your tongue out at her as the blonde pulled a face.

"hey where's bella? bell!" alessia called out in realisation, head scanning the aisle and not seeing her anywhere. "probably adding more to her list for santa." you chuckled knowingly, and sure enough moments later the five year old came skidding around the corner.

"what did we say about running off?" alessia warned making you smile, the older girl not always having felt comfortable 'parenting' bella, but the last few months she'd really melted into it and taken it in her stride.

"i didn't run! i walked." bella nodded matter of factly, squealing as alessia mocked her and tugged playfully on her ear. "are you nearly done? the monsters hungry again!" bella sighed, patting her stomach dramatically and sagging into alessia's leg as the two of you shared a grin.

"the monster who just insisted you needed an extra two pieces of toast this morning? and who just had a blueberry muffin?" you teased, placing a few more things into the cart as bella huffed.

"no! the muffin was for me, i'm a growing girl who needs her energy to get big and strong, to stay healthy and match ready." bella parroted as you shot your girlfriend a look, the words may have been coming from your daughters mouth but they weren't hers.

"well ronaldo you don't have football for another two months so i am sure we can help you grow another inch or two by then!" you laughed, tugging her beanie down over her eyes as the three of you headed toward the registers.

"thats not funny! daddy said its your fault im so short." bella scowled stomping on ahead. "yeah well your dad didn't hit his growth spurt until he was sixteen!" you called out with a roll of your eyes, tugging the beanie over her eyes again as she stopped to finger her way through the candy display at the front of the store.

"less!" you protested when your girlfriend grabbed the chocolate bar bella was eagerly pointing to, giving her a look. "what? this is for my monster, he's hungry too!" the blonde pointed at her stomach as bella giggled and you sighed shaking your head and beginning to load things onto the conveyor belt.

"thank you." you smiled kindly to the young boy at the register, who you assumed was a football fan given the wide eyed glances he kept shooting your clueless girlfriend, too busy holding the chocolate out of bellas eager reach.

"she doesn't mind when people ask for photos." you whispered to him as his cheeks flushed and you sent him a wink, tugging the trolley forward and loading the last bag, calling out for your daughter who grabbed your outstretched hand.

sure enough alessia hung behind to take a photo with the young boy whose elated grin stretched ear to ear, the blonde jogging to catch up with the two of you as you made your way across the parking lot to the car.

"so, are you and harvey excited for christmas mutant?" alessia questioned as she buckled bella in and you loaded the bags in the back, poking at the teddy bear securely buckled in with her.

"yeah! mummy did you send my letter to santa? did you? did you?" bella asked once you'd arrived home, bouncing up and down on the driveway as you chuckled at her excitement.

"sure did babe, mailed it on friday and put on 4 stamps just like you asked me to." you confirmed, looking down at her with a smile and pinching her cheeks as she squealed and kicked her leg at you.

"mama did you finish your list for santa yet? mummy and i finished ours!" bella accused as alessia grabbed the bags out of the boot, only half listening.

"mama?" "sorry what was that bell?" "your santa list, did you finish it?"

"my...santa list?" alessia glanced at you curiously as you subtly nodded. "oh, yes! yes i did." alessia clarified with a firm nod, bella sighing in relief and racing off to the front door, you and alessia following after and letting her inside.

"so your mums still fine with us coming for christmas?" you asked a little while later, bella not long having gone to bed as you and alessia laid on the sofa watching a film.

"are you joking?" alessia asked seriously, sitting up a little more with a frown as you blushed.

"well its just-you know this is our first christmas together. and i've not been with someone for a christmas since i had bella, i forget how it works." you mumbled, a little embarrassed, groaning and covering your face with your hands.

"it works the same as any other christmas! except this time my family have a beautiful little girl to spoil rotten and i have a gorgeous girlfriend to sit with at dinner." alessia laughed, wrenching your hands away from your face.

"don't laugh! you know i overthink everything." you sighed, playfully hitting her shoulder as she grabbed your legs, tugging you closer so you were practically in her lap.

"well christmas eve we'll be here, and we'll make cookies and watch christmas films and do all the traditions you and bell have for years, which i feel very honoured to learn and participate in." alessia started, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your forehead.

"and make christmas tree shaped pizzas, just like i promised bella." alessia added before you could chime in as you reached up and squeezed her face in your hand which she batted away with a smile.

"then christmas morning we'll go see your mum and dad for brunch. then we'll go to my parents place in the afternoon, have dinner and mums insisting we all stay the night but i told her i had to check that with the boss first." alessia finished with a curt nod, poking your nose with a wink.

"the boss being me?" "no i meant isabella, obviously?" "ha ha ha."

"yes you!" alessia laughed when you attempted to smack her, catching your hand and kissing it a few times before letting it fall back to your side with a thump.

"if she's prepared for a bossy, chatterbox, sugar hyped five year old running around for hours until she passes out then i think that sounds lovely." you smiled as your girlfriend chuckled and leaned down to press her forehead against yours.

"well then we have a plan baby, nothing to overthink now."

~

"-and you're sure you don't mind if they come?!" alessia asked for the tenth time this morning making you laugh. the school you worked at and bella attended having its annual christmas showcase the end of the week and over half the arsenal girls insistent they attend.

"no babe, i already reserved seats for them and they paid for tickets! bella is very very excited they're coming, usually its just nathan and our parents since i'm backstage helping." you assured, pecking her lips a few times as she tried to argue, softening and pulling you back for a proper kiss.

but that ground to an abrupt halt when gagging noises sounded, bella covering her eyes and very loudly demanding the two of you stop 'swapping spit' as she so eloquently put it, still deep in her kissing is gross phase.

"yuck! have you stopped now?" she questioned, peeking out from her hands as alessia cupped your cheeks and pressed her mouth to yours again making you laugh and bella gag loudly again, covering her face with one hand and her teddys face with the other.

"my eyes are burning!" "oh does that mean you can't see this then?" you questioned, grabbing alessia's face right back as the two of you messily kissed as bella dramatically fell to the floor with a thud and a groan.

"oh she was so young, so full of life!" alessia cried out, scooping your daughter up and carrying her into the kitchen fireman style. "i guess we better go downstairs and bury her in the garden, she did love pulling out the weeds every summer." you sighed, moving to open the front door as bella shot up in your girlfriends arms.

"don't bury me the dirt will go up my nose!" "oh my god she lives!" you yelled out, closing the door and throwing your hands into the air. "almost. i think we might have a zombie on our hands!" alessia hummed, skeptically poking at bellas face who giggled.

"i made something at school!" bella wiggled as alessia put her down and she shot off to her room, giving you just enough time to steal a few more kisses before she returned.

"paper chains for the tree and a star!" bella started, waving you and alessia into the living room and practically pushing you both to sit down as she rummaged around in her bag, only having a few more days left before she was done for the year.

"oh very nice mutant, i like that you used a lot of colours." alessia complimented as the two of you shared a look of amusement, everything draped in enough glitter for two pride parades.

"okay now cover your eyes, and no peeking mama!" bella warned as alessia scoffed with offence. "why did you only warn me?" the striker huffed as you grinned. "because you would peek." bella explained patting the girls knee who rolled her eyes but covered her eyes.

you felt something drop into your lap and heard some shuffling before it was announced the two of you could look. you glanced down to see an ornament in your lap, a bright red bauble with mummy scrawled on it in hot pink glitter glue.

"oh bella." you looked to your side to see alessia had one as well, but you couldn't quite make out what it said but it appeared to have more writing on it than yours.

"do you like it? i chose red for arsenal!" bella beamed, puffing her chest out proudly as alessia turned it a little so you could read.

mama's first christmas.

"oh bell, they're beautiful." you smiled softly, picking her up into a tight hug, squeezing your girlfriends knee who seemed lost for words.

"cause its your first one with us! my teacher had to help me with the writing." bella explained, head resting on your shoulder as she reached her other arm out for alessia to join the hug.

"oh less!" you groaned as the blonde practically tackled the pair of you to the sofa in a tight bear hug making bella giggle as alessia kissed all over both of your faces.

"best christmas ever."

~

"does every parent tell their kid they can sing even when they're this horrible?" leah whispered skeptically as alessia shot her a look and lia rammed an elbow in her other side making her wheeze.

"what! just a question." leah grumbled, alessia smiling apologetically to the sharp shush which sounded from a man in the row in front of them. "i think it is sweet." lia defended, the choir finishing their rendetion of santa clause is coming to town as everyone errupted into applause.

"i think leah should shut up." kyra shrugged once they'd sat back down, the blonde shooting her a glare and reaching over alessia to try and smack the young australian.

"stop it! the pair of you." steph chimed in from kyras other side, smacking the blonde as alessia shoved leah and both girls settled back in their seats with a mutter.

"oh this is bell's class!" alessia perked up as K3 was announced and slowly the very nervous looking kindergartens were ushered onto the stage by a few of the year six kids who were helping out.

you peeked out from the curtain and snickered, catching thirteen phones all up and filming before the song had even started, alessia wiggling her fingers at you with a face eating grin.

"you got this!" you gave the kids on stage a thumbs up, moving out of the way so their teacher could stand in the wings, also doing the dance in case anyone forgot as the opening bars of the song began.

"lessi your face is gonna crack in half if you smile any wider." kyra teased, alessia shushing her as she zoomed in on bella who was easily one of the more enthusiastic of the class as they made their way through their dance.

"now see that? thats real talent." leah nodded, putting her fingers in her mouth and whistling as a womans head whipped around to glare at her and she simply pulled a face making her scoff and turn back around.

"oh my god." you couldn't help but chuckle as right as the song finished the entire row of girls were up on their feet, whistling and clapping like they'd just watched someone score the winning game in extra time, a few other parents giving them strange looks as slowly the kids shuffled off stage and they sat back down.

but judging by the shit eating grin on your daughters face and the pride shining in your girlfriends eyes as bella lingered on stage to wave enthusiastically to her cheer squad before being gently shooed off, it was worth it.

alessia had been right, best christmas ever.

[secriden]

This line. God, this line! It has been eating me up inside for 2 days now, because let's not forget, this line isn't about love, it's about trust. And that has implications that make me want to scream.

It's a direct reference to this moment earlier in the episode:

At the start of this discussion, Style and Fadel still have a kind of playful air about their conversation:

Style: Oh? Not even me? Fadel: You're at 80% at best. I feel like you're hiding something from me in the 20%.

In this exchange, though, there's a sense that Fadel is issuing a challenge, like there's something specific which Style can do to gain Fadel's full trust. And while Style knows there are things he cannot (yet) reveal to Fadel, I think a part of him is determined to be as honest as he can be, which is why he issues a challenge of his own by asking for more specificity:

Style: What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?

Part of this question is a simultaneously inquisitive and deflective - What (and why) do you think I'm hiding (something) from you? - but there's also a moment after Style finishes speaking where he stills and goes quiet that feels... genuine, weighty. Or, as @airenyah has pointed out in her meta on Style in episode 4, the "grounded[ness]" in Style's demeanour is a signal that Style means what he's saying in the moment. Maybe about his own desire to be worthy of Fadel's trust, maybe about how he genuinely does want this relationship to be real in whatever way that matters to Fadel.

I think Fadel sensed that too, because the moment looses all the lightheartedness it had before. Fadel pauses, and then gets a look on his face that just... breaks my heart. There's a sombreness there, like he knows he's going to have to say something that makes him sad. Fadel looks away, and then down, before he seems to steel himself and says:

Fadel: It'll never happen. No matter how much you love someone, I just don't believe that you can completely lay yourself bare in front of them.

Fadel says this like it's fact. Like what he's expressing is something foundational and true and irrefutable. It's not even about his doubt in Style's honesty, because this statement has no qualifiers or conditions put on it to connect it to Style. Rather this is what Fadel fundamentally believes about relationships and trust: he finds the very concept of being fully known and still accepted an impossibility.

Sure, maybe this is because of the falling out (or betrayal or disappearance) associated with the former lover; but I also think it might be because Fadel is acutely aware not only that he's hiding a rather big and dark secret (not to mince words, but: actual literal premeditated murder), but also about what it implies about Fadel. Because being able to kill another human, coldly and clinically and without remorse, takes a certain type of person. Because, yes, Fadel has lived through an absolutely harrowing and traumatising event (his parents' murder), but it's also undeniable that it changed him. Because there's something about Fadel that twisted dark and which he never quite got back. There's an anger, a hurt that colours every moment of his life; that enables him to look a man in the eyes, smile politely, and pull a trigger.

And at this point in their relationship, Fadel's understanding of Style is that he's... well, kind of innocent. Especially in comparison to Fadel and Bison, and even Kant.

Style, who easily reveals facts about his life which Fadel already knows (winning a car tuning competition), making Fadel doubt his own instincts about Style hiding secrets. Style, who also reveals the things Fadel doesn't know, like the tender and secret pain of a mother lost to cancer (which, now that I think about it, Fadel may also know) and his worries about a father who "lost his bearings for a bit" (which he probably doesn't). Style, who tries to comfort Fadel in his own loss by offering a safe space and a sympathetic ear.

Style, who doesn't just see Fadel for his tragedy, but is asking to be given the chance to accept all of Fadel as a person. Style, who not only wants but has the capacity, to be the only person Fadel needs to rely on. Style who, despite the sea of differences between them, understands Fadel on a level that is so very foundational.

I'm going to slightly segue and mention something that may not resonate with everyone, but really hit me in the gut this episode: because I lost my father when I was 16 after he battled cancer for 2 painful years. And this revelation about Style has totally shifted and coloured everything Style has done in a new light for me. Because not only does this totally explain Style's sometimes almost stubbornly childish demeanour (it's common in adults who've had to 'grow up' too early), but also why Style shows seemingly random flashes of insight and maturity when they are most crucial. Notably, Style has this almost instinctive sense of when he needs to back off a sore point with Fadel that I couldn't quite put my finger on until this episode.

I've seen a few jokes about Style's awkward subject change, but I've actually got a friend who I hold very dear to my heart who was one of the only people to give me a sense of normalcy and comfort when my dad was on his last few days and then at his funeral. And part of that was the instinctive way she would know when I needed to just. Not be a grieving daughter for a few minutes. To get a small respite from the overwhelming hopelessness and sense of impending loss. To get a moment to breathe and gather my strength, because knowing I was never going to see my dad again, or hear his voice, or hold his hand was tearing me apart back then. Sometimes she'd talk to me about college drama, sometimes she'd introduce a new kpop video to me, sometimes she'd just ask me what I wanted to eat and take me to go have a meal with her. And sometimes there really just isn't anything else to say other than "I'm sorry." Nothing you say - nothing you can say - is going to ever, ever make this grief go away, and in most cases, it was better when people (especially those who couldn't really understand) didn't try.

And I think if you look at Fadel very closely, there's a moment of genuine surprise (Fadel wasn't expecting the subject change at all) and then... something that looks like fondness mixed with exhausted relief. Because I don't think Fadel was ready to talk about his parents yet. This was honesty he wasn't ready to give Style, mostly prompted because Style himself had willingly been so vulnerable that a part of Fadel wanted to reciprocate. But further down that path lies not only his darkest memories, but also the connection to the part of his life he is not willing to share with Style yet. So this subject change is a relief, it's a blessing, but it's also Style knowing when he shouldn't push any further with Fadel's fragile heart.

Which brings me back to how well the episode's theme of trust (both deserved and undeserved) was woven in this episode. This is true on multiple levels and characters but I'm not even going to attempt to touch Kant in this post because... Lord, that is beyond me at the moment. Someone else needs to do that, pretty please, so I can reblog it and scream.

It starts, somewhat unexpectedly, with Fadel asking for entrance into the intimate spaces of Style's life.

So, this episode was not about Fadel's fear of his own feelings, desires, or even affection for Style - that appears to be fully addressed in episode 4. I think that's why we see Fadel be so physically affectionate and indulgent of Style in this episode. He's come to terms with his lust for Style's body (hence his comfort in initiating sex), he's accepted Style as his boyfriend and so can enjoy Style's playful teasing (still reluctantly, but Fadel is still an introvert even if he's mostly enjoying Style's rambunctious nature), and give into Style's (and Bison's and Kant's) cajoling with relatively little fuss.

He's even comfortable toying with the edges of revealing his darker and more sinister side by reminding Style implicitly about how violent Fadel has the potential to be. Recall that Fadel knows Style knows some of his capacity for violence; he just doesn't know how very thoroughly Style is aware of the full scale of this truth. It does help that Style evidences no actual fear and, in fact, looks positively euphoric. Like, buddy, pal, dearest one... please control yourself.

And yet something very, very telling is the way the show makes it a point to depict Fadel very deliberately getting drunk during the double date. Even before the date has started, Fadel looks to be about half a beer in and we see him constantly drinking, drinking, drinking during the whole date. From the conversation about trust he has with Style while Kant and Bison are being off key and adorable about it, to after Kant leaves and Bison gets worried. And we've seen Fadel cope with emotional and mental distress with alcohol before, so we know that Fadel is internally fighting some kind of very intense battle even as he is also very clearly enjoying moments with Style on this date (most notably when they're dancing by the bowling lanes and when Style asks him to go home with him).

So here's my take: rather than being about love, this is about Fadel fighting to hold onto his own philosophy on relationships and trust. Because as much as I do believe Fadel believes he's telling the truth when he tells Style that 100% trust is "impossible", I think it's clear that's not what he wants.

What he wants is to finish this last job so that the only thing he can't be honest about with Style will finally stop being a factor in his life. What he wants is to fully and completely reciprocate the openness Style seems to be giving Fadel. What he wants is to switch off his brain and let his heart lead for once, to stop fighting a battle he has no desire to win anymore, only he can't. Trust (not love) is Fadel's final frontier, and one which he can't quite give up in spite of himself.

Which is why I think Fadel intentionally gets himself drunk here. Because he wants to let his guard down around Style. He wants to open himself fully, he wants to "lay himself bare" for Style, he wants Style to know the full truth and accept him anyway - and he gets so close, but can't quite get there - because he doesn't know that Style already has.

When Style says this, Fadel thinks it's empty words, not knowing that Style has long passed the bar Fadel thinks is insurmountable. And just like Style was able to offer safety and reassurance to the vulnerability Fadel was showing in episode 4, Style instinctively gets to the core of Fadel's darkest fears again:

Style: One day, I'll be your 100%.

This isn't (just) a promise that Style will wear Fadel's stubbornness down, or that Style will be worthy of Fadel's 100% (which, already, has me in tears, ngl). Beyond that, this is Style promising Fadel isn't ruined for this; that it isn't too late, that whatever hurts and wounds Fadel has can be made whole again. That the kind of honest and all-encompassing and unconditional trust which Fadel says is impossible can, in fact, be his. That Fadel still has the capacity to trust and be trusted the way he so desperately, painfully longs for.

I know a lot of people have said Style in this episode is writing cheques he has no ability to honour, but I think it's more layered than that. Because in a very significant and profound way, Style is wholly deserving of Fadel's trust. Because in all the ways that Fadel has ever known he should want, Style actually IS worthy of his trust. Style knows the truth Fadel is hiding, knows what this man is capable of, knows the danger of being in his arms, knows the likely nonexistent future Fadel has to offer him -- and wants him anyway. Style is a man who would stare into Fadel’s darkness and reach out first. Strip away the complication of Kant being blackmailed and dragging Style into his mission, and Style is literally perfect for Fadel. He is exactly what Fadel wants (and possibly has wanted for a very long time). He is, in fact, exactly what Fadel needs to ever experience anything beyond the shadow of a life he's had so far.

But oh, the cruel narrative means that Style is also, simultaneously, painfully undeserving of Fadel's trust; and this is something Style is very much aware of. I think that's why he's trying so very hard to be worthy in all the other ways he can be. Style's awareness of what Fadel is hiding enables Style to (counterintuitively) be completely honest about his feelings for and about Fadel even as he cannot reveal his motivations. So he gives Fadel as much honesty as he can: offers the vulnerability of his own pain and hurts; the comfort of his true understanding and acceptance.

And just as Fadel's vulnerability in the abandoned factory was met with Style choosing a form of physical connection that prioritised Fadel's pleasure (it's made very clear that Style is jerking Fadel off and that all his focus in that moment was on Fadel, not his own pleasure), so too is this moment met with Style very intentionally choosing to worship Fadel's body with all the tenderness and genuine emotional weight that Style wanted Fadel to have in their first time in the storeroom.

Because, crucially, this was Style giving Fadel the chance to lay himself at least physically bare. This is the closest either of them can get to full honesty with the secrets they both are keeping. It's why Style tries so very hard to show the care and adoration and genuine feelings he has for Fadel. Why he makes sure that the vulnerability of Fadel getting himself as drunk and as relaxed and as trusting as Fadel can allow himself to be is tied only to gentleness and tenderness and pleasure.

Because Style actually knows that Fadel can't (and shouldn't) trust him in the way Fadel truly wishes to.

And as much as I believe that Style genuinely means this from the bottom of his heart, the horrifying full truth is that it is Style that has the metaphorical knife hovering over Fadel's chest. He is the one with the capacity to actually give Fadel a new scar that would truly matter. He is, in fact, the only one Fadel wants to fully trust -- and this, along with Style's compromised heart, makes it so that the circumstances will doom them both.

[puck-luck]

home for the holidays | luke hughes

warnings: holiday quickie, gotta be quiet bc there's family around so like semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected p in v, dom!ish luke, light dirty talk, marks, light gag (fingers in mouth), talk about using toys

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: you and luke make a no-sex pact during your time at luke's home, but that quickly breaks after you exchange christmas presents.

wc: 2027

It’s your first Christmas with Luke’s family and the agreement was that you wouldn’t have sex in Luke’s bedroom with all of his family around. You’re already feeling lucky that his parents are the kind of people who allow partners to share beds during the holidays, rather than splitting them up and sending the partners to the guest room. Given the fact that there are a couple of girlfriends visiting this Christmas, it would be a tight fit in the guest room. You love a sleepover with the girls, obviously, but you’d rather have a sleepover with your boyfriend.

The fast pace of the NHL only breaks for three days– Christmas Eve, Christmas, and Boxing Day– so the “No Sex” pact should have been easy. Three days is nothing. It’s only 72 hours, six of which you spend in the car or on the airplane, so it’s more like 66 hours. You also have eight hours of sleep per night, and you’re staying for two nights, so that’s another 16 hours lost. So, really, you only have to make it through 50 hours without having sex. 

You make it through the first 24 hours just fine. You’re done with Christmas Eve dinner and you’ve all hung out for a little while, drinking eggnog and exchanging stories and laughter with Luke’s relatives. 

His hand had grown heavier on your thigh or waist throughout the night, as you consumed more of the cream-colored drink. It was rare for Luke to leave your side, except to refill your drink, and he’d had the wherewithall to cut you off after two cups of the spiked eggnog, knowing that you’d hate to have a hangover in front of his family the following morning. 

By the time the clock struck midnight, you were beyond ready to go to bed. The relatives had left the house with kind “see you tomorrow”s for the formal Christmas dinner that would take place at Luke’s grandmother’s house. Luke’s parents had gone to bed, too– Jim climbed the stairs right away, while Ellen hung out with the boys for about thirty minutes before going upstairs herself. That had just left the boys and the girlfriends, who had shot the shit for as long as they could, but you all were yawning after such a long day, so the party was cut short.

You and Luke had decided to do one more thing before bed on Christmas Eve. You were going to exchange gifts.

You’d gone first because Luke had insisted. You’d gotten him one of those handheld massage guns. Jack had one for their apartment already, but he was always hogging it because technically it belonged to him, so Luke wanted one of his own. 

The delighted surprise on his face and his earnest thanks, as well as the sweet kiss he’d given you, already had you hot and heavy. Luke’s body was no stranger to you and, probably partially because of the eggnog, you were in the mood to reconnect with him.

Then you’d seen the necklace. You’re still gaping at it when Luke speaks.

“It’s a sapphire,” Luke says softly. “I know you said you didn’t want an ‘L’ necklace, so I got you something more subtle. Sapphire is my birthstone– I looked it up– and I thought the blue would look pretty on you.”

“I love it,” you tell him. You carefully extract the necklace from its box and hold it out to Luke. “Will you put it on me?” You turn from him, moving your hair to the side and baring your neck. 

With gentle hands, Luke reaches around and sets the necklace in place. The sapphire heart rests between your collarbones. After he fixes the clasp, Luke’s fingers trail along the nape of your neck. You feel his lips brush against your skin, reverent and loving, and your “No Sex” pact goes entirely out the window.

The kiss is rushed and, while you’re the one leading it, Luke is not far behind. He’s actually rather quick to cover your body with his hands. His right goes to your behind, laying on your cheek and groping the flesh. He splays the fingers on his left hand, which engulfs a good expanse of your back. 

Your clothes seem to fly off, as do Luke’s. You’re left in your bra and panties, while Luke is in his boxers, and he pulls you to the bed. Tongues tangled, Luke lays atop you and brings his hand to your core.

You moan aloud when Luke sheaths two fingers into your pussy, working quickly to open you up. You and Luke freeze, eyes wide. Your legs are spread and his fingers are still inside of you, so anyone who wakes up and comes to check on you would get an eyeful.

Luckily, no one does, and Luke chuckles in relief. “You gotta be quieter, baby,” Luke mumbles before kissing you again. “I don’t want anyone interrupting us.”

“I will,” you promise hurriedly, tangling your fingers in Luke’s curls and tugging him closer.

Luke curls and scissors his fingers inside of you. You honestly try your best to stay quiet, but Luke’s digits always manage to draw noises from you without much effort. You kiss him. You press your lips together. No matter how you try to stifle yourself, noises leak from your mouth anyway. 

It isn’t until Luke plants his other hand over your mouth that you’re silenced. 

“You never shut up,” Luke says with a goofy smile, sounding more proud of himself than upset that you can’t follow his suggestion. “Do I make you feel good, sweetheart?” He strokes your g-spot after asking, which has you moaning into his palm like an answer to his question and arching your back. Luke grins. “Ready for my cock, baby?” Another stroke to your spot and another moan.

You feel his fingers withdraw from your cunt, which leaves you feeling empty and wanting for more. He’d nearly brought you to orgasm and now he’s taking it away. “Luke,” you whisper against his hand. He goes to remove it, but you grasp his wrist and hold him in place.

Luke quirks his eyebrows. He wipes the slick from your cunt on his boxers before pulling his cock from the flap in the front. “So no one sees my ass if we wake them up,” he explains, stroking himself. He makes sure the crotch of your panties stays to the side, then begins to inch forward.

Your eyes flutter shut and you melt into the mattress. You sigh, lips slackening at the sensation of his cock rubbing against your insides.

“Gonna be quick,” Luke tells you, dipping his head to kiss against your jawline. “You feel so good.”

You nod, blinking at him and maintaining eye contact. He feels so good. He’s the one who makes this feel the way it does.

His hips roll into yours rapidly, sending sparks through your being. Now that Luke doesn’t need to line himself up with your core, his hand has found its way above your shoulder, planted securely against the bed and keeping himself steady. 

Your nails find his arm, then his bicep, then his back. Angry red lines rise on his skin, which will hopefully fade by tomorrow. It would be terrible and scarring for one of Luke’s parents to catch you in the act now, but you’d feel pretty embarrassed if they were to notice the scratches and ask Luke about them tomorrow. You bring your hands back to Luke’s hair.

Chancing it, Luke groans under his breath and removed his hand from your mouth. He kisses you, trailing his tongue along your bottom lip. 

Tilting your chin down, you capture his mouth and suck on his tongue. 

He uses his free hand to draw your knee up over his hip, which brings his cock to a new spot inside of you. It’s deep and he’s constantly hitting your walls, sending jolts through your stomach. 

“Oh, fuck, Luke,” you whimper, louder than intended. 

Luke quiets you with a hush, then pushes his index and middle fingers between your lips. The pads of his fingers press down on your tongue, stealing some of the breath from your lungs. 

Your tongue starts to move, sucking on his fingers like you would suck on his cock. 

“Greedy girl,” Luke coos. He pistons his hips into yours. “Touch your clit for me, baby. Touch it like I would.”

Spit pools in your mouth when your jaw drops at the allure of his words, hand finding the apex of your legs and circling the bundle frantically. 

“No,” Luke chastizes. “You know that’s not what I’d do.”

You draw your eyebrows together and whine petulantly, but you halt your movements anyway. 

“Go on,” Luke encourages. “Do it like me or don’t touch at all. I’ll make you come regardless.”

He slows his hips and eyes you, challenging you. You know that he’ll stop if you don’t listen and you cannot fathom having his cock leave you.

Closing your eyes, cheeks burning a little bit, you pinch your clit between your fingers and roll it. It’s a move that Luke discovered when he was toying with you after morning practice one day, edging you mindlessly and testing to see what you like. It was relatively early in your relationship and you swear that Luke’s “discovery” was just the culmination of a bunch of near-orgasms that he had torn away from you. He’s been using this move for months and it has brought you to the edge more times than you care to admit. 

Smiling devilishly, Luke begins to fuck into you quicker than before. “That’s my girl,” he says. “Can’t believe you’re going to come in my old bed. So slutty, baby. I love it.” He pushes his fingers further into your mouth, silencing your response to his dirty talk. 

As embarrassing as it is, the pinching and twisting of your clit provides a bizarre mixture of pain and pleasure, which make your nerves feel abused and overcome in the best way. 

You start to breathe heavily, panting around Luke’s fingers as his cock batters your insides and your fingers stimulate your clit. A bit of drool pools between Luke’s fingers, mouth as wet around his fingers as your pussy is around his cock. 

Luke gags you on his fingers, his thumb pressing against the soft skin under your jaw while his digits flatten your tongue. You suck desperately, whimpering around him. Your cunt clenches in time with your swallows, which pulls Luke to the edge.

He comes undone first, orgasm starting as a trickle then turning into a series of spurts inside your pussy. It feels scalding against your sensitive inner walls, mixing with your juices. 

“Come with me,” Luke tells you as his orgasm hits. He comes closer and bites over your neck, refusing to suck and mark since he knows it’ll bother you the following day. “Come, babe. Keep touching your pretty, swollen clit and milk my cock when you come.”

His words tip you over the edge, tinging your eyesight with black spots. His fingers act as a wonderful gag, as they’ve been doing all night, but the addition of his ring finger keeps your wanton moans from shaking the house. 

Luke fucks into you through the aftershocks, truly allowing your entrance to squeeze every last drop from his member. He pulls out only to plug you again with his fingers, the ones that had just left your mouth. They slide inside you easily, aided by your spit and the mixture of cum that resides inside of you.

Plastering himself to your side, Luke kisses you sweetly. “So, you like the necklace?” He asks. 

You breathe out a little laugh. “Love it. It’s so cute, Luke.”

“Aw, just like you,” Luke says with a shit-eating grin.

You hit his shoulder, blushing. “Shut up. You’re so weird.”

“Just complimenting my pretty girlfriend,” Luke continues. He bends his arm at the elbow and props his head up on his fist, looking down at you. “Hey, do you think we can use my massage gun as a vibrator?”

notes: merry christmas to those who celebrate and happy end-of-year to everyone who DOESN'T celebrate christmas but still wants to be included! love you guys. i hope this was a satisfactory christmas present <3

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (2)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, awful boss, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope

How to cure a grump (1)

James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky to his friends, prides himself on not being a petty man. He believes in second chances. So, when storms toward his private jet, he tries not to be too angry.

One day before Christmas he must fly across the country to find a missing employee. Or rather, ex-employee.

Bucky grits his teeth, barely acknowledging the petite blonde welcoming him with a French accent. He always had a thing for French women or women in general.

Today, he doesn’t care, too angry at you for spending Christmas with your parents and not waiting for his call.

“That woman! The audacity! How dare she block my number!” He’s fuming. If this was a cartoon, steam would come out of his ears.

Bucky barks orders at the pilot and the stewardess before sitting down. He hates Christmas and everything that comes with it. From the cheery attitude to exchanging gifts. James Buchanan Barnes is the Grinch in flesh and blood.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Bucky loses his temper for a second, or like, ever. He glares at the poor girl telling him there’s only one left at the car rental. “I wanted an SUV, not a fucking truck.”

“Sir,” the girl sniffles, “I reserved the best car for you. It’s the Christmas season, and it's difficult to even rent out a car. We are booked out for months.”

“I don’t care! Is that how you do business?”

“Sir, I must ask you to lower your voice,” the owner of the car rental steps in. “We did our utmost to find another car for you. It’s the only one left. Take it or leave it. If you want to walk, it’s fine by me.”

Bucky grits his teeth. He’d love to go at the man like a missile but doesn’t have the time. If he wants to find your house, get the password, and leave within two hours to fly back to New York, he must swallow his pride and accept one defeat for today.

“Fine,” he growls at the man. “I’ll take that one.”

Bucky is beyond pissed. No one in your sleepy little hometown wants to tell him where you are living, or rather your parents. On top of all, his feet are hurting from running around town for hours.

He cracks his neck before entering the bakery, his last hope.

Bucky opens the door, forcing it to swing open. The little bell above the door rings, catching the other customers' attention. Your former boss, in his expensive slacks, coat, and slippers, sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Good day, Sir,” the owner chirps. She’s a short woman in her early fifties, wearing a brown mini dress shaped like a gingerbread man cookie, with icing details and colorful candy accents. It has a slightly flared skirt and appears to have a tulle underskirt. “What can I do for you?” We have a special offer for Christmas-themed cupcakes and muffins. Or do you prefer classic gingerbread cookies?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Bucky cuts her off. “Y/N Y/L/N. I think she’s at her parents’ house.”

“OH! OH! You must be the handsome fiancé she was hiding for so long!” The owner rounds the corner to wrap Bucky in a hug. He stiffens, not used to unwanted affection from strangers. “But… didn’t you come with her?”

“I—I,” Bucky stammers. If he tells the owner the truth, she’ll not tell him where your parents are living. “Work kept me busy last minute.”

“—and now you came here to surprise her,” she concludes, and Bucky doesn’t correct her. What else can he do? “Wait, I’ll write her address down. And, oh, you must take some of the cupcakes and cookies with you. They are on the house.”

All the women in the bakery sigh. They believe the handsome man in his expensive clothes came to surprise you on Christmas.

Well, in a way, he will surprise you.

“Mom, I’ll go and pick up the things you ordered. Do you need anything else?” You call for your mother, already halfway out of the house. “Mom?”

“Can you bring some cupcakes and cookies from Aunt Y/A/N’s bakery? Bread too. We don’t need to bake it this year. She offered to bake mine at the bakery!”

“Sure thing, Mom. Anything else? We don’t want to forget something, especially with the approaching snowstorm.”

“No, I got everything else, Munchkin. We will survive for at least three weeks or more with all the things in the pantry. You can stay for months if you want to.”

“Mom,” you sigh. Since you told her about your boss and that you lost your job, she offered you half of the house. She already talked to people in town. Within not three hours, you got four job offers. “We can talk about it after the holidays.”

“That’s not a no,” she coos. “You know, I’d love to have my Munchkin back at home.”

You smile because your mom means well and loves you unconditionally, but you know moving back home is not an option. After the holidays, you will attend a few job interviews. You already had a look at a few free positions and applied to them.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom. Call me if you need something else.”

“Coming,” your mom coos as someone impatiently rings the doorbell. She carries a plate with cookies toward the door, assuming it’s one of the neighbor’s kids. “What can I do for you?”

She opens the door, meeting stormy blue eyes. Bucky looks her up and down, humming as she’s the spitting image of you. “Mrs. Y/L/N,” he clears his throat, “I’m looking for your daughter, Y/N. I know it’s a busy time, but I need to talk to her.”

“Wait—” Your mother sizes Bucky up while trying to remember the picture you sent her some months back. The one of you and the guy you dated for a few months before he broke things up with you. “You must be…” She struggles to remember the name you gave her too.

“James,” Bucky offers, and holds out his hand. He chuckles as your mother is still holding a plate with cookies in her hands. “Sorry, can I help you with that?”

“Where are my manners!” She gasps. “It’s freezing, and you are standing on my front porch. Come in and get warm. Y/N is picking up some groceries for me. She’ll be back soon. Do you want coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?”

Bucky reluctantly enters your mother’s house. He looks around before taking off his coat. His hands are ice cold thanks to the lack of hand gloves, and he cannot deny that he doesn’t feel his feet any longer.

“Yeah, the weather caught me cold,” Bucky and your mother chuckle at his bad wordplay. He takes off his shoes to wiggle his toes. “I didn’t expect the snow to be so…persistent.”

“We get lots of snow at this time of the year,” your mother says while preparing a hot beverage for Bucky. “Do you want some cookies too, or a sandwich maybe?”

“That’s too kind,” Bucky says. He doesn’t want to risk getting kicked out of your mother’s house. He’ll be waiting patiently for you to return, get the password, and be on his way.

You hurriedly get inside the house. The snowstorm already arrived, and you barely made it back to the house. “Mom, I’m back,” you call for your mother. “I guess we won’t be able to get in town anytime soon.”

“Munchkin,” your mother calls from the living room. “We have company. Can you come here?”

You frown. The last thing you need after fighting your way through snow masses is neighbors wanting to catch up with you. You love them, but explaining that you lost your job is something you don’t want to do again and again.

“Coming,” you take off your boots, coat, scarf, and hand gloves before walking into the living room. You suck in a breath watching your former boss get comfortable on your mother’s couch, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

“Look! He came to see you for Christmas.” Your mother gets up to give you and your “boyfriend” time. She still doesn’t know he’s your boss, or now ex-boss, not the guy breaking up with you weeks ago. “You can catch up while I take care of the groceries you got.”

Speechless, you watch your mother leave the room. “What are you doing here?” You spat at your former boss the moment your mother was out of sight. “How dare you come here to bug my mother!”

“She invited me in,” he dares to say. Bucky shrugs as you look at him, murder in your eyes. “I think she confused me with some other guy. She mentioned a boyfriend or fiancé.”

Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. “Not even close,” you snap at him. “I was seeing someone, but my mom knows that it didn’t work out. What did you tell her? Did you lie to her?”

“Whoa, calm down,” he slowly gets up. “I’m here because you forgot to reset the password. I cannot access the files.”

“What?” You cock a brow. “I left my current password and the PIN to reset the password along with my keys. I gave them to the security, as suggested by Mr. Rogers the day I left.”

“Mr. Rogers—” Bucky huffs. “That punk! That goddamn motherfucker let me fly down here to get the password and knew you left it?”

“Problem solved,” you grunt and point toward the door. “If you’d leave me the fuck alone now. It’s almost Christmas, and the last thing I need is for my mom to believe you are the guy I dated!”

“Munchkin, will your boyfriend stay for Christmas? Do you want the guestroom to have more privacy?” You love your mother dearly, but right now, you’d love to tell her to shut up. “Y/N?”

“No!” You say. “He will fly back and spend Christmas in New York.”

“Oh, Munchkin, I don’t think he can,” your mother says while walking back inside the living room. She shows you her phone. “See, all airports are closed, and the streets are, well, you know the streets in winter. “I think James is stuck here.” She smiles softly while you start to sweat.

“I think he’d prefer a hotel!” You are quick to reply. “Right, James.” You clear your throat and furrow your brows. “You want to sleep at a hotel.”

“Nonsense,” your mother insists. “We have more than enough space. Let’s get his luggage inside before it gets even colder. I’m sure he’s tired and needs a rest.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll go to a hotel,” Bucky jumps in, wanting nothing more than to get out of your mother’s house.

“All hotels are booked up. I talked to Mrs. Brock yesterday. There are no free rooms left. Your boyfriend can sleep here,” your mother chuckles. “I know you are all grown, Munchkin.” She kisses your cheek before leaving the room.

Awkward silence spreads through the room. You look at your boss, the man ruining Christmas and your career for you within a few seconds. “Why didn’t you tell her?” He asks.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” You throw your hands up. Dropping another bomb at your mom is the last thing you want. Maybe she forgot that you told her about the breakup some weeks ago.

“Uh—you know, I wanted the password and feared she’d kick me out getting to know I’m your boss.”

“Ex-boss,” you point out. Putting your hands on your hips, you huff. “Okay, we will survive one night. You’ll sleep in the guestroom, and tomorrow morning we will find a way to get you out of my hometown.”

“Good,” Bucky mutters.

“Good,” you snap at him before storming out of the room.

More tags in reblog.

@cjand10, @nofingjustaninchident, @pettyjayy

[littlelamy]

HEY HI GORGEOUS

I'm here with another idea. what about divorced rafe and reader where she finds out she's pregnant after they hooked up on a family trip that they did only bc their kid asked for both parents on their birthday and she has to tell him that the baby is his

author's note: hi bby, i made this a little angsty so i hope you enjoy it. thank you so much for sending a request! credits to @mochilly for the the divider <3

the soft hum of the engine and the chatter of your child in the backseat should've been comforting. you should've been able to relax and let the memories of the past weekend settle into something pleasant. but instead, all you could focus on was the secret bubbling inside you. a secret that was both thrilling and terrifying.

you’d been divorced from rafe for a year now. your kid's birthday party had been the excuse to bring you both back together, but the real reason for the trip was the way your kid begged. "please, just one weekend, mom, dad, both of you." and you had agreed, knowing that the family dynamic your child craved was slipping further away every day. rafe had agreed, too, though you both had kept your distance—until that night.

it had been a mistake. a drunken mistake. you had stayed in the same room because of space limitations, and the old chemistry that used to light up every corner of the house ignited that night, despite everything. you were both too broken, too hurt by the years of marriage that fell apart, but still... you found yourselves in bed together, tangled in passion.

now you were facing the consequences of that moment, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were about to crash into a wall of reality. you’d missed your period, and the test didn’t lie. the baby was his.

you pull up to the familiar house, the same one where you had shared so many memories, and where your child now split their time. your kid jumps out of the car and runs into the house, leaving you standing there, nerves tightening your chest. you take a deep breath and close your eyes, steeling yourself. you could do this.

the door opens, and there he is. rafe. his tall frame, messy hair, and that look in his eyes—the same look that once made your heart race. now, it just made your stomach churn with anxiety. he stares at you for a second, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“hey,” you say softly, fighting the tremble in your voice.

“hey, you okay?” he asks, voice rough but laced with concern. “you look like you’re about to pass out.”

you wince, your heartbeat picking up speed. “i, uh, need to talk to you about something.”

rafe’s gaze sharpens, his posture shifting into something more guarded. “what’s wrong? is it about the kid?”

“no, no, it’s about... me,” you mutter, then stop yourself. "well, actually, about us."

the silence between you stretches, thick and uncomfortable. he raises an eyebrow. “us? what the hell are you talking about?”

you glance at your hands, nervous to look him in the eye. “rafe, the thing is... i’m pregnant.”

the words fall into the space between you like a bomb, and his expression morphs instantly from confusion to shock. his lips part as he takes a step back. “what?” his voice is barely a whisper, but you hear the panic in it.

you nod, watching him closely. “yeah. i’m pregnant, rafe. and it’s... it’s yours.”

the air seems to freeze around you. rafe stares at you like he’s trying to process the words, like they can’t possibly be true. his jaw tightens, and you can see the conflict churning in his eyes. “you’re fucking kidding me, right?” he snaps, running a hand through his hair.

“no, i’m not,” you reply, your voice growing firmer, though your insides feel like they're about to implode. "i just found out. the timing—hell, it’s a fucking nightmare, but it’s true.”

rafe glares at you, his usual defensiveness rising like a shield. “how the hell did we end up here?” he mutters under his breath, pacing in a circle.

you feel your own frustration bubbling up. “don’t act like this isn’t your fault too, rafe,” you shoot back, your voice louder now. “you think i wanted this? i didn’t ask for this. i didn’t ask to be here with you again, but our kid wanted us both. and now... now i’m stuck in this mess, and you’re here acting like it’s a goddamn surprise.”

he clenches his fists, jaw tightening. "i know, alright? i know i fucked up with you. but this—this is too much." he stops, running a hand over his face. “you could’ve just... kept it from me. this doesn’t have to be real.”

you scoff, feeling the sting of his words. "i’m not that kind of person, rafe. i’m not just going to pretend it didn’t happen. you need to hear this. whether you like it or not, this is our reality now.”

he’s silent for a moment, then steps closer to you. his voice drops to something softer, more strained. “what do you want me to do, huh? you think i can just act like everything’s fine?”

“no,” you say, your eyes meeting his. “but i can’t do this alone. i need you, rafe. i need you to be here. for me. for our kid.”

he exhales sharply, and for the first time, you see something in his eyes that isn’t anger or confusion—it's fear. “i don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who’s stable, who can give you everything you need. i can’t be that guy.”

“stop,” you interrupt him, your voice trembling. “stop trying to push me away. you’re all i’ve ever needed. yeah, things fell apart between us, but we’re both human. i’m not asking for some fucking fairy tale, rafe. i’m asking for you to step up, for our kid, for what we used to have.”

his lips press together, and the tension in the air thickens. then, finally, he speaks. “you’re right. i’m not perfect, but i’ll be here. i’ll try, alright? i’ll try for you. for the baby. i—”

he cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. his voice cracks a little when he adds, “i’m scared as hell, but i’ll try.”

tears well up in your eyes, but you hold them back. “i’m scared too,” you whisper. “but i think we can make it work.”

he steps closer, lifting a hand to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. his voice is low, almost a whisper. “we’ll figure this out. together.”

and for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[amirasainz]

Oh, I'm sorry, but my ideas for Leclerc's stepsister are in my head and there are so many of them, I don't have the nerve to send them all, but... I just want her to be very different from baby Sainz, she was very independent, hardly accepted help, was a little (and sometimes a lot) shy, defiant, but at the same time for the Leclair brothers she was a princess, and their parents wanted to enjoy the fact that everything was fine

With love from CH 💜

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl ♥️

No Part 2!

Independent, but Loved

It was a typical sunny afternoon in Monaco, and the house was alive with the sound of chatter and laughter. Yn was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her manicured nails clicking against her phone screen as she scrolled through her social media feed. The comments on her latest post were already piling up.

@queenYnislife: “She fixed her car and still looks better than me. HOW??”

@monaco_royalty: “Yn, the real princess of Monaco. Bow down, everyone.”

She smirked at the comments and tapped her nails thoughtfully against her chin. "You know," she said, her voice laced with playful sarcasm, "I should start a DIY YouTube channel. 'Fixing Cars with Yn.' I'd show everyone how to slay while being a mechanic."

From across the living room, Arthur groaned. "Yn, you didn't fix the car."

She raised an eyebrow at her 19-year-old stepbrother, her dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Excuse me, mechanic Arthur. I literally fixed it myself. My nails were covered in grease for days!"

Lorenzo, the oldest at 25, laughed as he walked into the room, carrying a tray of drinks. "Oh, princesa, you really think that car is still the same one?"

Yn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Arthur leaned forward, unable to suppress his grin. "We got you a new car."

Her jaw dropped. "No, you didn't!"

"Yes, we did," Lorenzo confirmed with a shrug, his grin widening. "Do you honestly think you ‘fixed’ a blown engine with a wrench and some nail polish remover?"

Charles, who had just walked in after a training session, leaned against the doorway with an amused look. "To be fair, you were very convincing with your grease-smudged selfies."

Yn stared at her brothers, utterly scandalized. "Wait a second. You mean all my TikToks about ‘fixing’ the car were based on a lie?"

Arthur snorted. "Pretty much, yeah."

"You guys distracted me?" Yn accused, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Charles.

Charles threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Guilty. But it was Lorenzo's idea!"

Lorenzo chuckled, clearly unbothered. "You deserved a better car, princesa. That old one wasn’t safe anymore."

Yn crossed her arms and pouted, her glossy lips forming a perfect little scowl. "You could have told me instead of treating me like a clueless baby."

"You're not clueless," Arthur said quickly, his tone softening. "We just wanted to make sure you were safe. You know we only do these things because we care about you, right?"

Her pout melted into a small smile. "Fine. But I'm still mad that you lied to me."

"We'll make it up to you," Charles promised. "How about dinner on me tonight? Wherever you want."

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

Yn grinned, her previous annoyance already forgotten. "Okay, but you’re paying for dessert too."

"Deal," Charles said, ruffling her hair.

---

That evening, as they all sat around a table at Yn’s favorite restaurant, their parents, Pascal and João, joined in on the fun. Pascal raised his glass, a proud smile on his face. "To my incredible children. I love seeing how well you all take care of each other."

"Even if it means pulling off elaborate car heists," Yn teased, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.

João, always the peacemaker, smiled warmly at her. "They just want to make sure you're happy and safe, filha."

"I know," Yn said, her voice softening. "And I love you guys for it. But don’t think this gets you off the hook for messing with me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Great, here we go."

Yn smirked, leaning back in her chair like the queen she was. "Just wait until I prank you back. The internet will love it."

Lorenzo groaned. "Please, no more viral chaos."

"You should know by now," Yn said with a wink, "I am chaos."

Charles sighed dramatically. "And we wouldn’t have it any other way."

As the evening went on, the teasing and laughter continued. Yn, their sarcastic and fiercely independent little sister, was their princess. And while she might never let them forget their sneaky car replacement, the love and bond between them was unshakeable.

They were, after all, family.

[burrowdarling]

Home With You

Summary: You and Joe head back to your hometown to spend the holiday with your parents.

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: None, just some holiday fluff :)

Note: Hi all! This was requested by some anons and @beautifultragedyexpert so I combined them into this one fic. Some fluffy holiday Joe on game dey!

Word Count: 2k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

There was something so nostalgic about Christmas in your hometown. The Main Street is fully decorated in lights, bows on the lamp posts, the town tree illuminated with lights of all colors in the middle of the park. It was only around 6pm, but the streets were already beginning to disperse from all of the early travelers. The soft flurry of snow was a nice touch to your reminiscing, adding to the scene in front of you. 

You hadn’t been here for the holidays in quite a bit, having mainly spent them with Joe and his family in Ohio. Your parents would come out to visit, but it felt like this was the right year to be home. In the fast-paced hustle of the season, it was nice to slow down and breathe surrounded by something familiar.

Joe had never been to your hometown, leaving him to chuckle at how you were excitedly pointing things out from the passenger seat. Your small town felt like a stark contrast to the city Joe had grown up in. There was so much you were dying to show him about where you grew up, reveling in the moment by pointing out your favorite shops or restaurants as you drove past with a promise to explain more later. There was a feeling of your childhood laid out around you as Joe drove the same streets you once used to, unsure of where you would end up when you got older. It was healing to be able to tell your younger self that you were happy with the one you loved, coming home felt like a reunion with the little you. 

“What are you thinking about over there, babe?” Joe asked, reaching a hand out to strike your thigh before giving it a light squeeze. The gesture offering you a feeling of comfort as you pulled yourself out of your thoughts for a brief moment.

“Just how content I am with the life we have together. If you had told me years ago that I’d one day be driving back here with the love of my life to spend the holidays together, I would’ve asked if you were dreaming” you said with a light laugh. 

“I love you so much sweetheart, I wouldn’t want to do this life with anyone else but you” Joe said looking over to you with a look that showed that he meant every word he said. You felt your cheeks heat, having a hard time fully taking in his words. Joe could be extremely heartfelt, but It wasn’t always easy for you to process the full gravity of them.

You gave him a small smile as you turned towards the window, watching the world go by. The quiet streets you once found to be boring, offering you a feeling of solace from the busy life you’ve come to know. You could feel happy tears begin to well in your eyes, truly feeling at peace with coming home.You were sure it was going to be a special trip home. 

You had finally made it to your parents house, pulling up the driveway like you used to and everything still as you left it. You both hopped out of the car, Joe making quick work to unload your bags while you went up to the door, giving a brief knock before entering. Your mom was in the kitchen finishing up dinner while you dad was setting the table.

You and Joe greeted them both with hugs and smiles, Joe immediately being swept into football talk with your dad. You shook your head, throwing a knowing look at your mom who’s face mirrored your own. You made your way to the kitchen to help her finish up any loose ends. You helped her get everything set at the table, ready to dive into a good home cooked meal.

“I was thinking we could decorate the tree after dinner, we wanted to wait for you like old times” you mom said as she scooped some food onto her plate. A wide grin broke out over your face, looking over to your mom.

“Yeah we’d love to, that sounds great” you said, looking over to Joe whose eyes were already on you. His look was full of love, resting a hand on your thigh giving you three squeezes as a way to say ‘I love you’. You all engaged in conversation for the remainder of dinner, catching up on each other's lives and what has changed here since you were last home.

You all cleaned up after dinner and made your way to the living room where the fire was going and the tree was lit, waiting to be decorated. Your mom started to open all of the different boxes of ornaments, Joe getting a kick out of the ones you made as a kid. 

“You were quite the artist in your childhood, huh” Joe chuckled as he found a particularly ‘crafty’ ornament, having drawn your family as a bunch of stick figures next to a ‘Picasso level’ christmas tree. You took it from him to inspect your work, holding it out to admire it like an art critic. Your parents laughed at your actions, getting a kick out of the scene unfolding in front of them between you two.

“Hey, I tried my best, okay? At least you can tell what it is” you said as Joe took the ornament from you and placed it front and center on the tree. “Gotta display the art properly since it’s so museum worthy” Joe laughed as he spoke. Your parents watched the two of you, giving you loving looks at your dynamic.

You all continued to decorate, Joe lifting you up onto his shoulders to palace the star on top of the tree. You stood back to admire your work, Joe slinging his arm over your shoulders and leaving down to place a kiss on top of your head. 

After decorating the tree and some small talk in front of the fire, you and Joe had retired up to bed, saying your goodnights to your parents. In mentioning everything being the same, your room was no different. It was as if time stopped in here, your parents leaving everything as you had it. 

Your walls were still adorned with band posters, though there were far less than there used to be. You would’ve deemed yourself to be quite the fangirl back in the day, never being one for sports until you met Joe. You preferred to stay in listening to music, drawing, or diving into your books. Your bookcase was still full of everything you used to read, instantly bringing you back to the countless late nights you would stay up late finishing a good read. You had a small desk covered in your old artwork you used to work on, all of your different mediums sorted along the edge. Your queen bed was pushed into the corner of the room full of pillows and blankets, giving a cozy vibe to it. You still had your lights up around the edge of your ceiling, plugging them in to see if they still worked and they had. Being in here took you back to being in your safe place, having taken years to get everything how you wanted it. 

Joe took in his surroundings, being able to get a glimpse into the younger you and put a image to how you described yourself when you first started dating. He walked to your bookcase, poking at your different books and knick knacks that you had littered throughout it.

“So, what do you think? Kinda wild that they kept everything the same huh?” you asked, watching Joe take in your room.

“Your room is adorable, we’ll have to get a poster of me to add to your shrine of celebrities on your wall” Joe joked, gesturing to your countless posters of different bands or artists. “Seems like you had a type though, weird that you went for the football player.”

“Hey, you know I had no idea you played when I first met you. You act as if i was always going to football games every weekend” you said, feigning fake offense at his words.

“I know, baby. You were my little bookworm in college, I always knew I could come home to you and your nose would be buried in a book. I did appreciate when you’d come to my games though, just like I do now.”

“I’m gonna be so honest and say that I think you’re the first boy I’ve brought in here” you said, feeling Joe come up behind you as his arms wrapped around your waist. The admission felt right to tell him, even if it would only feed his ego more.

“Somehow that makes this even more special that I get to be the first and last” Joe said, spinning you around and pulling you tighter into the hug. “What do you say we do a little christening then, hmm?”

You pulled back a bit giving him a light slap to his chest, “Joseph Lee, my parents are under the same roof” finding it hard to fight off a smile. He grinned back at you, bringing his hands up to your jaw to pull you back into his body, resting your foreheads against one another.

“We don’t have to go that far, but I do know that I want those lips on mine. We can be very teenager about it with a classic makeout” Joe said as he captured your lips in a slow kiss. You could feel things begin to heat up a little as he walked you backwards towards your bed. 

You crawled backwards toward the headboard, Joe following you as you settled back into each other. It had been awhile since you guys had been able to really take things this slow and just enjoy exploring one another. With the busy season, it was nice to be with one another with no pressure for anything more. A smile crossed your lips at the thought, feeling Joe smile back into the kiss before locking your lips together again.

After quite the makeout session, you found yourselves tucked under the covers with your head resting on Joe’s chest. You felt yourself beginning to drift off until Joe spoke up.

“Do you ever think about what things would be like if we were just a normal couple?” he asked, the dark room giving him a sense of confidence to speak the words he;s been thinking about all night.

“Define normal because I feel like normal is pretty subjective” you laughed lightly, propping yourself up to get a better look at him.

“You know, the typical dates, sunday mornings, and holidays with family - everything that comes with a normal relationship. I know it can be hard to be with me, feeling like everything you do is scrutinized under a microscope and no air to breathe sometimes” Joe’s honesty gave you a pang of hurt in your chest at how he feels.

“Joey just because your job is abnormal doesn’t mean our relationship is. I love everything about you and that we get to still do things like this together. I wouldn’t trade what we have for the world, I would choose you in this life and every other” you spoke as you stroked his jaw softly, feeling him lean into your touch.

“You always know the right thing to say, thank you for being my person and choosing me everyday” he spoke as he gave you a quick kiss.

“Loving you is the easiest thing I do,” you said as you snuggled in closer to him. You were always home when Joe was around, being with your parents made the holidays that much more special.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Welcome to the neighborhood

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22

Prompt: Santa

Rated: T

Tags: No UD AU; Single Dad Steve; Single Dad Eddie; Steve is Dustin’s dad; Eddie is Max's dad; Neighbors; Christmas

Steve presses the doorbell for the third time, secretly wishing he'd put on his coat - or his outdoor shoes at least. Nobody has bothered removing the snow from the walkway leading up to the door, and it's seeping into his slippers and socks. 

“Maybe they aren't home,” Dustin says, voice slightly muffled from under his scarf. 

Steve scoffs, mentally cursing Carol for talking him into this. “I saw the car pull into the garage, they're here.” 

He's just trying to decide if he should rap his freezing knuckles against the milk glass pane or tell Carol to go fuck herself when the door swings open, revealing a girl around Dustin’s age. She's sporting a vicious scowl and a shock of violently orange hair. 

“Oh hi,” Steve says. “Are your parents home?” 

She gives them a long, pointed once over. Steve in his slippers and too-thin shirt and Dustin in his knitted Minecraft hat. 

Then, without turning, she hollers, “Dad! It's the hottie from across the street.” 

Somewhere in the house, somebody drops something. There's a barrage of swear words that makes Steve wanna cover Dustin’s ears, and then a whirlwind of black clothes and frizzy curls descends down the stairs and almost barrels into the stack of half unpacked boxes in the hallway. 

“Jesus Christ, Maxine! Sorry about that, I dunno what she's on about.” 

The girl rolls her eyes.

“You said it. Own it.” 

The man glares at her. She grins. 

“Hi,” Steve says again, bravely ignoring the heat rising under his collar. “Nice to meet you. I live-” 

“Across the street. She just said it,” Dustin provides helpfully. “Hi, I'm Dustin, this is my dad.” 

The girl gives him a lazy wave. “So, what do you do for fun around here, Dustin?” 

He shrugs. “I was about meet some friends, throw snowballs at cars. You wanna come?” 

“Ew, lame,” she says, grabbing her coat off another box. “Let's go.” 

Steve watches them disappear down the street, already deep in conversation about something or other.

“Well, then.” The other man extends his hand. It's adorned in clunky rings and covered in paint stains. “Do I get a proper introduction, or are we doing that thing where we refer to each other as Max's and Dustin’s Dad until it gets awkward, but by then we're too embarrassed to ask so we just skirt around it and say ‘hey, you’ for several years?” 

Steve is snorting a laugh before he remembers he's supposed to be mad. 

“Steve,” he says, taking the offered hand. It's pleasantly warm after the frosty air. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” 

“Steve,” the man repeats, and something about the way it rolls off his tongue makes a different kind of warmth settle in Steve’s chest. “Hi, I'm Eddie. What brings you here on this fine- oh shit, should I ask you to come inside? My kitchen is still very much a work in progress, but I got the coffee maker running yesterday, so I could fix us-” 

“It's fine,” Steve lies. He's starting to lose the feeling in his toes. “I just wanted to- … I'm here on behalf of the Home Owners’ Community.” 

Eddie tilts his head at him. “There's a Home Owners’ Community?” 

“Um, yes,” Steve says, raking a hand through snow-soaked hair. “Didn't you get our welcome pamphlet? It has this chees- … um, cheery picture on it. Happy family in their yard with their dog?” 

“Oh, that!” Eddie’s mouth goes round. “Yes, I got that. Threw it out. Looked culty to me.” 

Steve gawks at him. He smiles.

“Culty,” Steve repeats. He fucking told Carol the fucking photo was too much, but did she fucking listen to him? 

“Yup,” Eddie confirms cheerfully. “Why?” 

Steve laughs weakly. “Nothing, just- … I think that's pretty damn bold, coming from someone whose idea of a Christmas decoration is this!” 

Eddie follows his sweeping hand gesture to take in his own front lawn, like he's seeing it for the first time. The giant, inflatable Santa swaying cheerily in the snowy breeze. The grinning crowd of plastic skeletons dancing by its feet. Some have pitchforks. 

The whole spectacle is rounded off by a wooden sign, hand-painted in bright red letters. 

It reads HAIL SANTA. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie laughs. “You see, we didn’t get around to doing anything for Halloween this year, what with the move, and it's Max's favorite holiday, so-” 

“Yeah, great,” Steve says. “But the Homeowners’ Community has rules, and they clearly state that Christmas decorations must be-” 

Eddie pats his cheek. His hand is even warmer on Steve’s face than it was against his fingers. 

“But I'm not part of your little club, unfortunately.” His tone is all honest regret, but the quirk of his mouth and the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes tell a different story. “And I'm not gonna join, so there's nothing you can do to stop me. And if she has an issue with that, I suggest chairwoman Carol Hagan come over and say it to my face, instead of hiding behind your back. Not that I blame her. It's a nice back.” 

“But you said-” Steve sputters. “So you did read it!” 

“You should go home now,” Eddie says, not unkindly. “Don't wanna be seen getting friendly with the likes of me. Plus, you might lose a toe if you stay like that.” 

He nods down at Steve's soaked slippers - they may be unsalvageable by now - then starts to close the door in his face. 

“Wait,” Steve says. Eddie does, peering out from behind the door with large, hopeful eyes. “Does that offer for coffee still stand?” 

Eddie’s eyes light up. So do the led flames surrounding Santa's ghastly entourage. 

Carol can mind her own business, Steve decides. He'll get friendly with whoever the hell he pleases. 

More holiday drabbles

[awordsmith]

paper dreams 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you and Spencer take your daughter up to your mountain cabin to go ice skating for the first time.

katcember

who? dad!spencer x wife!reader  when? s7  category: fluff  content warnings: proofed! nothing really, all fluffy goodness, reader drooling over spencer's forearms... reid with warmth  word count: 8.4k a/n: i tried something a little different in this fic, where i use '–' as a namesake, i'd really like to know if you like it or dislike it, your feedback helps a ton! ...enjoy!

The day was waning, barely any orange was confined to the sky; the storm swirled in blues and greys only. The air had turned frosted, and the wind was ever present–all the hints that winter was here. Your daughter’s 5th birthday… 

You and Spencer had been debating about whether or not going up to your newly bought mountain cabin in Mapleshire was a good idea, but his coworkers had seemingly convinced him, much to your appreciation. 

He’d dropped you off at Mommy and Me for the last class before the holiday wrapped itself around everyone and their social presence. He’d spent the day getting the car ready, it would be a long trip, especially at this time of day. You said goodbye to —, whom you had met at the start of Mommy and Me, and who had been great friends to you and —, your daughter. 

You held —’s hand, pulling her close. Though she was wearing a coat, you couldn’t be too sure if she was warm enough or not. She had her father’s eyes, a mix of your’s and Spencer’s complexion, and a mole on the side of her neck, which you again attributed to Spencer, but more so toward Diana, his mother. She had a sneaky mole right behind her ear, you remember her mentioning it when she held — for the first time.

A smile stretched across your face at the memory, but then — tugged on your arm, and you left your thoughts in your head, focussing now on your daughter, “look, it’s daddy!” She pointed toward Spencer as he pulled up in the black jeep you’d bought together specifically for trips such as this one.

“Yeah,” you kissed her forehead, “yeah, I see him.” She puffed out her chest as she began marching forward, you laughed at her attempts to open the glass door.

She frowned, watching as Spencer emerged from the driver's seat. You sent him a wave and a smile when he rounded the jeep–hands stuffed in his pants pockets–and leaned against it. 

He returned your smile when he saw you, eyes dancing with playfulness. You opened the door and your daughter ran out, her hair bouncing with each step, between the two, you thought she looked like the little mischievous main character of a Hallmark movie, trying to get her parents back together, or some other wild cinematic plotline like that.

You paused your walking midstep, heart and mind working in sync to capture the image before you: Spencer–the father of your child, your husband, and best friend–lifting the bundle of joy you’d made together, spinning her around like a fairy. The soundtrack of her giggles and his laughter mixed with a backdrop of a cold, misty, magical Christmas behind them.

The laughter stopped as Spencer set — on her own little feet again, a contented sigh escaping his lips, but visible in the chilled air. “Hi,” he said, tilting his head, eyes tracking up and down your frame.

Your heart warmed as it had when you’d first met, “hi,” you replied.

“Hi!” — shouted, then shivered, “I’m cold.”

You shared a look with Spencer, though they were both warning, they were two different types. Spencer ignored your eyes as he bent down, taking your daughter’s hand in his own, shaking it, “hi, cold, I’m Dad.”

You face-palmed, chuckling into your hands when your daughter snatched her tiny arm away and turned to you in annoyance, stomping her foot, “Mommy, he did it again!”

Spencer stood in mock shock, holding a hand over his chest, “wha–how dare–I did no such thing.”

— turned to him, though you couldn’t see it, you were sure she looked unimpressed. She walked around them as you stepped forward, meeting Spencer near the car. You gave him a peck on the cheek, pulling away as you heard your daughter’s failed attempt at opening the car door. “Open it!” She shouted, crossing her arms.

“Alright,” you nodded, “come on.”

You pulled open the door and helped her into her new car seat. It was black, matching the exterior of the jeep. The seats were leather, to which you had a hate-love relationship with. You were thankful Spencer already had the heater blasting, — looked pleased as well.

When Spencer slid into the car on the other side, he faced you, pulling your hand into his. Though you’d been married 5 years, he still managed to give you butterflies. 

You were the same age, though you were a few months older. You’d met in college through a mutual friend, and though he was earning his 3rd degree and second phd and you were in your first year, you’d hit it off. A year of friendship turned into two years of dating, and yes, you were young, but you honestly didn’t see yourself marrying anyone else.

Your parents, of course, wanted to meet him first, though you spoke about him constantly and they seemed to really like him. You remember the first time he’d taken you to see Diana around the end of your second year of dating–before he’d asked you to marry him.

He had been nervous, though you weren’t sure why. She seemed alright, she had Alzheimer’s, but she wasn’t any less of a person, in fact, you really enjoyed her company and saw her regularly when you were free. You’d talk about everything, but mostly about Spencer. You hadn’t thought to tell him about your little visits, but Diana had slipped up about it–and why shouldn’t she have? She had no idea it was a secret to him.

You had feared seeing him after the fact, sur he would be mad at you. You recalled the trembling in your hands–unable to control it as you met him for coffee. You thought it might be the end of your relationship, so when he pulled out a ring box and proposed, you were more than a little shocked. Though you shouldn’t have been, it was just like him to pull something like that, as you’d come to find over the years–as you should have perceived from your years of knowing him...

“—,” Spencer whispered your name, pulling your attention to his soft, aglow gaze.

You smiled, squeezing his hand in yours, “what did you forget?”

He scoffed, but his grin grew, “I can’t believe your first thought is that I forgot something.”

Your eyes narrowed as you looked around the car, noting the bags in the open cargo compartment behind your daughter. She smiled at you and you smiled back, asking if she wanted her tablet. 

She nodded enthusiastically, though Spencer muttered a small complaint as you rummaged through her backpack. You nudged him on the shoulder as you handed it back to her, “start driving.”

He’d argued with you a little when you’d said you’d wanted to buy one, but, as it was you whom he was arguing with, he’d given in pretty easily. It wasn’t as if you had her on it all the time, only for times like this–on long road trips, or when the sitter needed to keep her occupied when cooking. 

You had slowly moved — out of diapers within the last year, though two years ago, she’d taken her first step at age 3. She was a spontaneous child, and thankfully, Spencer was home to witness the gracious moment, and you thankfully had gotten it all on video. You cherished the memory of him holding her hands as she forced one foot in front of the other.

“I love you,” you whispered as Spencer cranked the music up.

His eyes crinkled, heart swelling, “I love you too.” You didn’t say it often as you both found it unnecessary, you both already knew it to be true, which is why when you did say it, it was notable–because for you to say something that didn’t need voicing, meant that you just wanted to say it, and that, that was special. 

Spencer pulled into a gas station. You huffed a laugh while he avoided your eyes, “I knew it.”

He held up his hands in defense as he stepped out of the car, “Listen, I–I never said I forgot.”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, your nose scrunching up, “yeah, you just failed to check the tank.”

“In my defense,” he leaned his head into the car, the door halfway shut, “I was running errands and packing all day.”

“And when you say ‘all day’–”

“Okay, okay, I’m gonna pump the gas now.” He laughed, closing the door with a thud.

You snorted and threw your head back, shaking your head. “Mommy?” — called, “Can we go in the store?”

You eyed the amenity, “we should get snacks for the road, huh?”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Definitely.” You covered your chuckles at her inability to pronounce the word fully. It was both adorable and endearing.

“You’re just saying that because you’re not the one paying,” you joked, but again she nodded her head and said–

“Definitely.” You sighed, unbuckling your seat belt and sliding out of the car, Spencer rounded it, asking what you were doing.

“— wants to get snacks.”

You pulled open the backseat door, unbuckling your daughter. She hopped out, landing on her feet. Spencer’s eyes widened and he bent with her, arms splayed out as if she might fall. Your heart swelled at the worry in his eyes–his expression.

He glanced up at you with a frown, you bit your lip, fighting the urge to attack him with kisses. “Be safe,” he said, keeping an eye on — as she skipped in front of you, toward the shop.

“We’ll be fine,” you assured, pausing, watching his expression, and before hesitating a moment longer, you pulled him down by his collar and kissed his cheek.

Spinning around instantly after, you chased your daughter before he could react. Blush darkened your cheeks both from the bitter air and your actions. The inside of the convenience store was a flame of warmth to the gloom of the outside. “Mommy!” — called, swaying on her heels as she waited for you in one of the aisles.

“I’m here,” you came up behind her, eyes wandering around the candy. You looked up and caught the gaze of the store clerk, you smiled briefly, then went back to collecting snacks. “Do you think Daddy wants coffee?”

Your daughter halted, her fingers that were running along a row of MnMs coming to a cursory halt. She turned to you with a look you’d begun to distinguish as her “Hotch stare”. Well, Spencer had originally caught onto it and had given it its name– one you didn’t understand until you’d met the man himself. 

Spencer had typically tried to keep his work life and home life separate–especially before the marriage–but after you’d had —, he’d wanted the team to meet you, and you, of course, had wanted to meet them for some time before.

Your first introduction was at a Christmas party thrown by one of his team members. He’d been working as an FBI agent for almost five years when you’d gotten married, you’d fallen pregnant with — not long after. 

He let his coworkers meet you exactly a year after — was born. Her birthday fell in December, which was the month Spencer took the most time off, other than your anniversary, though you never held him accountable if he only stayed a few hours between cases, you knew he did the best he could, which was also why you took the most trips in December.

Spencer had been clear with everyone that he would not answer work calls, and everyone knew that in December, he meant it. He blocked agent Morgan one time, though the poor guy had been calling Spencer in as a joke, that was about the only thing he never found funny, and he still didn’t

“Right,” you plant a hand on your hip, “you’re right.”

For someone so young, your daughter was incredible at picking up on social cues, you knew it was rare for geniuses to give birth to other geniuses–but for Spencer and —, you thought it was entirely possible.

— followed you over to the drink station, arms full of different candies. As you made two cups of coffee, one sickly sweet, — wandered over to the chip aisle and collected a few more things. You smiled sardonically at the total, huffed about paying, paid, and braved the grim winter once more. You felt like Anna on that mountain in nothing but a gown.

“Heh-hey, there you are,” Spencer opened his arms for a hug, but instead of hugging him back, — walked around him and demanded with a shiver–

“Open the door, Daddy.”

You snorted at Spencer’s guffawed look, shrugging when he looked at you for help. He sighed, opened the door, and helped her into her car seat. You approached him as he shut the door, enclosing your daughter in the heat and coziness of the car. 

You waited for him to turn before saying, “Open the door, Daddy.”

He rolled his eyes, but followed orders once more, waving a hand as if to say, ‘yes, your majesty’. You bit back a laugh and set the cups of coffee in the middle console. “Thank you,” you grinned up at him, sliding your body into the seat a moment later, sighing when you found the warmer still on.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered with a forced frown, shutting the door when he was sure all of your person was inside. You laughed as he made his way to the other side of the car.

“We can switch off,” you said an hour on the road, — was munching on something from her bag, ignoring the world around her.

“I’m fine,” Spencer brushed away your offer.

“I know,” you persisted, “but, if you need to,” you clamped a hand over his, drawing his eyes from the road to where your palm met the top of his grip on the steering wheel. His expression softened and he smiled, giving you an appreciative glance before turning his attention back to the road once more.

Ere long, you arrived at the cabin. It was stuffed securely on the side of a mountain, but the gap from the mountain to the road wasn't big and you trusted it. You had to pass through Mapleshire, the small mountain town that sold you the land, to get to the cabin. — was out cold in the backseat, so Spencer went to open the door and get the fireplace going while you kept the car on and began pulling out the luggage with as little noise as possible.

You had the entire weekend planned, —’s birthday was Sunday, and you already knew what you wanted to do for her. You had thought about it for a while, though you always knew you wanted to introduce the sport on her birthday, you didn’t know which would be the right age. She’d barely started walking two years ago, and you thought it was too soon for her fourth birthday. This year though, she was confident, and you were sure she could learn it just as she’d learned to walk, with her father’s hands guiding and leading her, and you, there to capture the memory for when she wanted to look back in the years to come.

Spencer ran back outside to watch — as you headed inside with the first set of bags, you switched off until all things were safely secure in the cabin–it was more of a lodge, but the word ‘cabin’ had a coziness to it.

The snowy home wasn’t completely deserted as Mapleshire was less than ten minutes away and neighboring cabins surrounded the mountains. There was even an actual lodge, where tourists stayed during their time away from everything else. You’d lodged there once when you were in the market for a winter home.

You wished you could stay there all season, but alas, you had work, Spencer had work, and — had daycare. Though, you were debating about asking if he might want to come next weekend. You could make it tradition, and maybe… when — got older, you could stay for the entirety of her school break, though Spencer may have to work a little throughout, his presence would be more than enough.

You shoved the thought away as you prepped — for the trip through the shivering breeze that only seemed to be alive at this height and around this time of night. She shuddered and tightened her hold around your neck, her legs–under the blanket Spencer had wrapped around her when you’d first pulled her out of her car seat–tightened. “Mommy?” Her slurred question pulled a tight frown to your lips; you rounded to the cabin’s front porch–your steps hurried as they endured the thickness of the snow. Spencer would have to shovel a walkway in the morning.

The soft yellow glow and toasty heat of the fire was like a blanket of cookies fresh out of the oven draped around your shoulders, suffocating you in love. You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing in the aroma, “Mommy?” — called again, head tilted to the side, eyes groggy.

“Here,” you slipped your shoes off, shut the door behind you, and stepped down the hall toward the room you’d curated for her when you had time off. Spencer had picked a few things out, including the bed sheets and comforter.

The room was still pretty chilly, though you weren’t sure if you should let her sleep in the living room tonight as you and Spencer still had a lot of unpacking to do. You’d need to go into town early in the morning for a bit of shopping, you’d probably end up eating breakfast at Windrift, the diner in town.

You settled — into bed, tucking the extra blanket around her, “here, let me see your shoes.” you whispered, yanking up the cloth just enough to reach her feet. She’d been dressed in comfy clothing, but you wanted to take her jacket off. “Give me your coat and then you can go to bed.”

She huffed but listened. “We’re here, aren’t we?” She said in her broken words, her voice trembling with both sleep and toddler tongue.

You smoothed down her hair, “yes, sweetheart now get some rest.”

You stood to move, but she sat up instantly, “Wait–the light.”

You frowned, — hadn’t been afraid of the dark since–well–ever. You didn’t have a lamp ready and you couldn’t very well keep the big light on. “Tomorrow,” you smiled, “tomorrow we’ll look for a lamp.” Some antique stores must have something you could use.

“But–” though it was dark it was as if you could see her lip quiver with the tone in her voice. It must have been because she wasn’t used to this area, it was new territory for her, and she’d never slept anywhere she hadn’t been before.

You sighed, feeling bad, maybe you could give her your phone’s flashlight, just until you were ready for bed, then she could sleep with you and Spencer–or until she fell asleep. You were approaching her bedside again, reaching into the back pocket of your jeans when Spencer appeared in the doorway, knocking slightly, “What’s going on?”

“—’s afraid of the dark.”

“I am not,” she turned on her side, sleep beginning to leave her, which scared you. You couldn’t have her up at this hour.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you reached over, rubbing her side.

“Hold on,” Spencer said, slipping away.

You sighed, you’d switched seats with Spencer a third of the way through the journey, and had switched again when you’d stopped at another gas station, — had been asleep by then, and you were both already so tired.

“Here,” Spencer stepped through the threshold of the room and headed to the other side, where — now faced. “Here,” he murmured her nickname, “look at this.” — watched as he plugged in a nightlight, the room aglow softly with yellow light; it mimicked a fireplace, like the one in the family room. “Better?” Spencer brushed a lock of hair out of her face, her smile as bright as it could be at that moment, you were sure.

“Thanks, Daddy.” She mumbled.

He stood as her eyes fluttered closed and she nuzzled herself into the pillow. Spencer left the door ajar when he met you in the hallway. You nodded toward the room, “when did you buy that?”

He waved his hand, biting back a smile, “it was supposed to be her birthday present. I’ll just have to get her another one tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know about it.” You scoffed, crossing your arms as he walked back toward the living room.

“You don’t know all of my secrets,” he halted his movements and spun around, his eyes flirting as he reached behind your ear and pulled out a single rose, “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed as a caustic expression grazed your features. You took the rose from his hand, it was real–your breath caught as you watched his figure disappear behind the corner to the drawing room. Grinning, you twirled the rose between your fingers, he was just full of surprises, wasn’t he?

You woke up with a good weight over you, something warm pressed against your face. At first, you thought it might have been a very small creature, but upon opening your eyes, you saw —. “Morning, Mommy.” She giggled, not fully pronouncing ‘morning’.

“Oohh,” groaning, you brought your hands up to your face and rubbed the sleep away. You sat up, — falling to your waist as you caught her back. “Where’s Daddy?”

— leaned in, cupping her hand over her mouth as she whispered, “Still sleeping.”

“Oh no,” you frowned, “now, we can’t have that can we?”

Her continued giggles were all the confirmation you needed to wake your husband up. You began shaking him, — slid off of you, and now between the two of you, cupped Spencer’s head, smoothing down his hair as she whispered in his ear, “Daddy, wake up!” Her voice went high at the end, louder than the other words.

Spencer stirred and you held a hand up to muffle your giggles. “What year is it?” He grumbled, eyes peeling open.

“Daddy!” She squealed like he’d just asked a question with the most obvious answer.

“Yeah,” he stretched, grabbing — under her armpits and spinning her around to sit her in his lap as he sat up. He looked down at her with a lopsided smile, “Hi.”

She covered her laughter with her hands and looked up, whispering, “Hi,” like it was their own, little secret. You wanted to capture this moment on camera, but perhaps that would ruin the moment, and you were sure there would be other times like this–so you deigned to just watch. 

The soft glow of the winter sun cascaded along your husband and daughter. You thought to leave them to their own devices while you went to take a shower. Rounding the bed, you pecked Spencer on the lips, “I’m gonna wash up.”

“Ewheww,” — scrunched up her nose, but a smile was adjacent to it.

You could hear them begin a tickle fight and pillow war as you reached the bathroom. It didn't have a tub, but a stand-up shower surrounded by fogged glass. You brushed your teeth while waiting for the water to heat up. You’d take — a bath in the hallway bathroom while Spencer took a shower afterward.

An hour and a half later the clock read 9:30 am. — was ready, wearing one of her favorite winter outfits. She looked like she’d be warm even when you stepped outside and headed into town.

“Ready?” Spencer found you and — in the den, he’d just come back in from shoveling a path to the car, and he was snow-bitten.

“Yep,” he kissed your cheek.

“Did you want to go to the movies later?” he motioned with his hands.

You shook your head, “I’m not sure, maybe we could come home and make smores, or something. I really just want to spend time alone as a family today, before all the circus tomorrow.” You pressed your hands against his chest and looked up into his goldened eyes. “Maybe after we finish skating tomorrow,” you amended. You were determined to teach your daughter how to ice skate, even if it took her some time, you loved the idea of sharing something so magical with her, and perhaps a movie at the local theatre would be a nice way to end the day before heading back up to the cabin.

Spencer nodded, “Okay, I’m fine with that.” 

You smiled, eyes now back on your daughter who seemed entranced by the idea of tying up her beret herself. You took it from her hands and tied it for her, patting her shoulder thereafter, “Come on, we need to eat.”

— dashed out the door and toward the car, the crunch of the snow beneath her small feet warmed your heart. She wore little brown mittens which further disabled her ability to open the door.

Spencer started the jeep while you helped — in her car seat. “Where are we going?” She asked as you strapped her in.

You glanced at Spencer, and he answered, “A cute little diner.”

“What’s a diner?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, had you never said the word diner around your daughter? Then a seldom expression fell to your face, or maybe she just forgot. “It’s a restaurant,” you shut her door, but not before bopping her on the nose.

She grimaced, whining, “Mommy I thought I told you to stop that!”

You huffed and crossed your arms as you slid into the passenger seat, “you let Daddy do it.”

“I do not!” She harrumphed, mimicking your actions.

You turned to your husband, eyes accusingly, “You liar.”

He held up his hands, falsy shocked, “Hey, now…”

“Mmmhmm,” you looked him up and down, unimpressed. “Drive, Daddy.”

He chuckled, pulling his seat belt over himself, and clicking it into place.

You played Christmas carols for —, laughing as she clapped and sang along. Ere long Spencer pulled into a lot across the street of the diner and wasting no time, the three of you headed toward the crosswalk and entered Windrift.

“Whoa,” — laughed, skipping to and fro. You asked her to keep calm and she promised she would do her “absolute best,” as if it were some kind of mission. 

While Spencer was led toward a table, however, you and — paused to play one of the mini-games the diner had in the front. You were caught up in securing a teddy bear from the claw machine (— being your number one cheerleader) when Spencer cleared his throat and appeared behind you like the grim reaper.

— laughed, saying you were in trouble. You whined as Spencer drug you away, you 0; claw machine 1.

You and Spencer ordered for — first, then he let you order, and finally, he placed his. The hostess read back everything she had scribbled down on her tiny notepad and hurried off toward the kitchen.

The red-stained, glass-shaded lights hung above you and every booth in the diner. A jukebox sat a few booths behind you, propped up against the back wall of the aisle. It looked like it’d been haunting Windrift since the place had been built. “You think it still works?” You nodded toward the music player.

Spencer shrugged, “we can ask.”

“No,” you waved your hand, “it’s fine.”

Your food came thirty minutes later, you were done around 11, and now back in the car, you were headed toward the only grocer Mapleshire had. It didn’t have a name like most other places in town, the lettering at the top simply read ‘grocer’.

You wandered around with a cart, grabbing essentials such as water and cereal (— was really specific about the cereal she preferred, you blamed Spencer for speaking so elaborately when she was in your tummy, she now had his curse of using words that were abnormal for a 4-year-old’s vocabulary. 

You headed back up to the cabin, unpacking the very specific cereal — claimed she’d die without. Most of the morning had gone by already, there were maybe 5 hours left until it was —’s bedtime. You thought of ways you could waste time, briefly, you thought you might have time to take — out on the ice, but then you recalled how exactly you wanted it all to happen, and thought it best to save it for tomorrow.

Instead, you and Spencer roasted marshmallows in the den via the fireplace. You were certain this would also be —’s first time learning what things like ‘roasting marshmallows’ and ‘smores’ meant. 

You loved that you would be there for everything–but you absolutely cherished the idea of Spencer being part of it all too. You knew he felt the same and you also knew he’d have to be dead for him to miss anything.

“I want another one,” — patted her stomach. 

You noted the chocolate around her mouth as she yawned. You smiled, glancing between your daughter and your husband, “Actually, I think it’s time for bed.”

— huffed, but she didn’t whine, “Can we eat more tomorrow?”

“Only if you clean up super nicely and bed head right-right now!”

She glanced at Spencer, but then frowned and turned back to you. Leaning in and holding up a hand, — whispered so softly so that Spencer wouldn’t be able to hear–but he did. You were sure of this as he stood, prepping to follow his daughter toward the hall bathroom. “She called me your loyal knight?” His eyes popped as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

You grinned and kicked your feet up on the coffee table, stretching your arms behind you, “I believe that means she knows who rules this family.”

“With an iron fist,” Spencer clicked his tongue as he walked away.

You laughed and sat up again, reaching for your mug. Spencer had made cocoa and you had the bright idea to buy whipped cream and cinnamon powder to sprinkle on the top, one of your better concoctions.

Around 7:30 pm, you heard — and Spencer leave the bathroom, heading for her bedroom. “All done?” You shouted from your spot on the sofa.

“Yeah!” Came Spencer’s shout a few seconds later. You stood and made your way toward your daughter’s room, finding your husband tucking her in tightly. The nightlight on–once again mimicking the fireplace in the den. It glowed softly, lighting up the room like a candle would, though lower to the floor and not in the center of the room, it shone well.

You had just stood up from kissing —’s forehead when she called, “wait.”

You and Spencer shared a look before turning to your daughter once more, “yes, what is it, —?”

“Can you tell me a story?” ‘Story’ came out as ‘sory’ and you wondered if you should begin booking her first dentist appointment soon.

Another look shared between Spencer and you told you you were thinking the same thing, — had never before asked for a bedtime story, just as she had never been afraid of the dark before the night prior, but you supposed children changed over time. Her brain must be developing, and so her personality–her fears and everything in between were now growing.

“Yeah,” you said, moving back toward your spot near her twin-sized bed. Spencer joined you, crouching as you settled on your knees.

“What–what story do you want to hear about?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“All-alright,” Spencer swallowed, hesitant, “once–once upon a time there was a-uh,” he turned to you visibly terrified, though you couldn’t fathom why.

You picked up where he left off, “a daring knight,” you wanted to snort because of course that was the first fantasy character to pop into your head–just because — had said something about it earlier.

“A knight like Daddy?” She asked.

“Yes, yes,” you nodded, unconsciously feeling around the space for Spencer's hand, “a knight like Daddy” He tugged your hand toward his thigh and held it, rubbing minuscule circles into your palm with his thumb.

“Then…was there a queen like Mommy too?”

“Uh, yeah,” you smiled, “the Knight protected the Queen, they were very close.” Your heart thudded in your chest, but as you moved on with the story it began to calm and you could see —’s chest begin to rise and fall in a slow rhythm.

“I think she’s asleep,” Spencer whispered after a time.

“Yeah,” you squeezed his hand, “let’s go.”

The hallway was chillier than —’s room, so you ran toward yours to grab a blanket. Spencer followed you, leaning against the doorway as you wrapped yourself in the knitted quilt. “Are you planning to take a shower tonight?”

You shook your head, shuddering, “tomorrow.”

“Yeah, probably best, it’s too cold now.”

“Are you gonna clean up?”

When he said yes, you thought to follow him, but paused at the last moment and decided to prep the bed so he could change into something more comfortable and fall asleep more quickly.

You lit a candle as you worked, snorting when you heard Spencer curse down the hall as he more than likely stubbed his toe on something. You were always telling him to wear the house slippers you bought, but he never listened. “Serves you right,” you muttered under your breath.

A little while later, Spencer appeared in your doorway, “hey,” you muttered.

“Hi,” he watched you, and you couldn’t put into words exactly what expression he used when he looked at you. It was a mix of emotions you’d seen over the years, it was as if you’d given him the moon–as if you had decorated the night sky just so he’d have something to watch when the sun left his sight.

You could see it in his eyes, but he wasn’t a poet, and he wasn’t trying to beat around the bush, “thank you,” it said, but what you thought it meant was ‘I love you’. 

“Knight?” You crossed your legs under the covers and faced him as he flipped the light switch off and approached his side of the bed.

“Yes?” He smiled cheekily.

“Back there, you were acting a bit strange.”

He averted his gaze which he only did when he was nervous, embarrassed, and/or hiding something–lying.

“Spencer?” You questioned, reaching over to grab his hand. He let you. He also let you force his head back toward yours. You searched intently, looking for an explanation to his odd behavior, the only light visible from your phone once you held the flashlight up to his face.

“I couldn’t–” he huffed as if trying to find the words, “I’ve never heard a bedtime story…” he admitted, biting back a frown–though it only served to bring a pout to his face.

Your heart did that thing it always did when he looked extra adorable. “Spencer Reid,” you called, his eyes finally finding the courage to return to you, “would you like to hear a bedtime story?”

Were it anyone else, he would have thought they were making fun of him–teasing him, even, but it was you. You and your perfect laugh, you and your warm hands, you and your kind, loving, heart. He smiled and pulled you to his chest, “— —, will you tell me a story?”

You snuggled close to him, giggling as he brushed a lock of your hair out of your face–it tickled. “Always,” you agreed, whispering, “close your eyes.”

You watched his eyes flutter shut, you could smell him, he smelled good, though he was dirty with the day's events, he had that ever-lasting scent to him–coffee and old leather. It was like he’d stepped right out of one of his Victorian novels.

“In a place–long ago–not too far away, there lived a girl in a small village.” He hummed against the beginning of your story and you smiled. “For most of her life, she thought it was herself against the world, and she wouldn’t let the world beat her… little did she know, however, it wasn’t the word she should have been afraid of,” your whispers filled the calm confines of your room.

“She braved the earth alone, fighting every day like it was her last, until she came upon a boy, who seemed the exact opposite of her.

“He laughed at the oddest of things, elated the queerest of sayings. He could go on and on about nothing and everything, and for once, the girl wanted to listen to someone other than her own thoughts.”

Spencer chuckled, though he tried to hide it. You didn’t mind, you loved that he was enjoying your story. 

“The girl and boy became friends, but that’s when she realized there were things far scarier than the world.”

“And what was that?” Spencer quirked a brow.

You pushed yourself up and out of his hold, his eyes flew open as you leaned over and murmured into his ear, “love.”

You pulled back, noting his raised brows, “why was love scarier than the dangers of the world?”

You wanted to squeeze him and never let him go, overjoyed at the fact that he was taking your story seriously. You were sure–had it been anyone else, they would have laughed, telling you it was enough. But not Spencer, because Spencer was Spencer, the only reason you needed to love him.

“Because along with love,” you began, “rejection existed. Everything has a balance, true love is to unrequited love what summer is to winter–and that–that was scarier than anything… Because it meant that the girl could indeed be hurt, and she was human, which made it more fatal than any physical wound she could have ever encountered.”

“Then end?” Spencer raised a brow, looking up at you.

You huffed, a tranquil expression settling over your features, “perhaps.”

He shook his head, but a delicate smile appeared on his lips, “thank you.”

You huffed with pride, “always,” and nudged him with your head, like a cat, he thought.

The morning isn’t as bright as the day before, the curtains weren’t drawn back, but what caught your attention first was the buttery aroma floating from the hall and into your room. The door was left ajar, you raised a brow, a half-awake smile dawning on your face.

You rubbed your eyes, ridding yourself of the crust that built up the night prior. There was a soft glow, however light it might have been, rolling to the side of the bed and planting your feet on the floor, you found the source. It was the nightlight Spencer had bought for —’s birthday. You smiled, she must have brought it in when you were sleeping, and an empty bed meant she, along with her father, was awake.

You stood, stretched, and right your consciousness before following the scent that woke you up so calmly. You paused for a moment, taking in the picturesque scenery before you. Crossing your arms, you leaned against the wall where the walkway ended.

— was sitting on the counter, mixing a bowl of some kind of composite, Spencer spun around in the kitchen, almost as if he’d choreographed a dance for exactly that purpose. “Having fun?” You called after a second, both bodies stopped instantly, and both heads jerked in your direction.

You covered up a snort, noting pancake mix on —’s tiny nose. “What’s so funny, Mommy?” She asked a grin spread across her face.

“Nothing,” you waved a hand, stepping forward, “you take a shower?” You propped yourself up on one of the barstools.

“Forturnalty, yes,” he smirked triumphantly, “— here was able to keep her promise of letting Mommy sleep while Daddy got in the shower.”

“He made me,” your daughter accused, “he said if I wanted to surprise Mommy, I had to.” Her words blended, causing the swelling in your heart to increase.

“Aww, thank you, baby.” You leaned over the counter and kissed her forehead.

“Ew, Mommy, your breath stinks,” she waved a hand in front of her nose, leaving the mixing spoon in the bowl.

“Okay, okay,” you held up your hands, backing away slowly while Spencer died in the background. “Mommy’s going to go brush her teeth.”

“And shower?” Spencer idiotically added.

“That’s okay,” you pointed a finger his way, “I’m going to remember that.” 

Spencer’s face fell, he held up his hands–almost like he was mimicking you–as if he’d done nothing wrong, “ooo, Daddy’s in trouble.” — whispered, eyes wide.

“That he is, —,” you nodded sternly, “that he is.”

An hour later, you were showered, and and dressed–and your breath no longer smelled of mold. Pancakes were stacked on a plate on the counter near Spencer–who was washing dishes while — still sat at the counter, now eating a plate of chocolate chip pancakes, nose fully free of mix.

“Hey,” you rounded the counter, leaning over Spencer to kiss him on the cheek.

“Hey,” he murmured, looking down at you with the eyes of a man sick with love.

“What are we doing today?” — asked with her broken speech, you grabbed a few paper towels from the roll and rounded the counter, sitting beside her to wipe her mouth of the chocolate. Spencer slid a plate of pancakes in front of you–a bottle of water came soon after.

“Thank you,” you accepted the utensils and began slicing through your delicious breakfast.

“Always,” he sighed, throwing a kitchen rag over his shoulder. He unbuttoned his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves, you let your eyes fall over his arms as he seemingly continued washing the dishes. 

Watching him made you wonder why he hadn't rolled his sleeves up in the first place, but then you understood he had just begun washing them when you went to kiss him, and the sink was still full, and there was still a couple of dirtied kitchenware scattered across the area.

You hadn’t realized you were drooling until — said something about it. Spencer craned his head slightly to get a look and you dropped the fork in your hands to wipe the saliva. He snorted once he saw you and you glared, though couldn’t help your eyes tracking over his exposed skin.

You huffed, determined to finish your pancakes without looking at him. You were angry-stuffing your mouth full of buttery, chocolaty goodness when — reached over and tapped you, “Done, Mommy.”

“Alright,” you sighed, setting your fork down, you were ¾ done, but you were more than ready to start your day, you would just have to get back to your breakfast later.

Spencer cleared the counter as you stole — off to her room, no doubt to get her ready for what you had planned. He’d spent hours going shop to shop just to find the right pair of skates, and even then, you were a nervous jitter about ‘what if the skates don’t fit her’ and ‘what if she doesn’t like the color’.

He’d reassured you more than enough times that they were fine and — would love them regardless of the color or model or make, though he knew he’d have rubbed your back and kissed your cheek however many more times you needed.

He headed toward your shared room, grabbing your scarves and mittens. He wrapped his around his neck and yours around his arm. The mittens were stuffed into his pocket as he began packing a bag for the trip.

There was an ice ring near the edge of town, it was Mapleshire’s biggest attraction, though it had separate times for children and adults, or rather, people who knew how to skate. If you left now, you would arrive right when they opened, around nine.

The car ride was smooth, — was wearing her mayoral coat which you’d picked out, especially for this day, and a plaid skirt, which Spencer had bought specifically to match the coat. It was adorable how his geeky, book-nerd style was evident, even in the form of his daughter’s clothing.

—’s snow boots protected her socks from getting wet as she jumped up and down, excited with the view–the anticipation. 

“Happy birthday.” You smoothed down the top of her head, “Come on, let’s get wristbands and sign that waver.”

Well, Spencer got the wristbands and signed the waiver while you and — sat on one of the benches behind the barrier that separated everything else from the ice. The sky was gray, but not gloomy–just the opposite. 

Children of all ages surrounded you, from toddlers to teenagers, parents, of course, were there too. Some had cameras like the one that hung around your neck, others had their phones out, already recording.

You preferred your camera because it was meant to capture scenery like this, the focus was great and it automatically blurred the things around your center point.

“Ready?” You finished tying —’s shoes, she loved the brown of the base of the skates and the blue laces, of course she did, you had no idea why you’d been so worried when picking them out. Spencer stood in front of you as you laced your skates. “I’ll get her used to the ice, let the skates get cold.”

He nodded and held his hand out for the camera. You pulled it from your neck and set it in the palm of his hand, large hands–you’d noticed this the first time you’d met him, they were slender, like musicians, but long too, which was why you’d first thought he was a pianist.

“Alright,” you leaned down, keeping — close to the wall, “first, we need to get our skates cold, so we're going to stay close to the wall.” You forced her in front of you, one arm under her armpit, the other holding onto the wall. Both her hands were clutching the wall and you were surprised at how calm she was. She wasn’t crying, or begging to get off because she was scared to fall. You thought she was being very Spencer-like, or perhaps, this was all —.

A few minutes later, Spencer had called you over, letting you know he’d bought and placed your bags in a locker. The only thing he'd kept was his phone and the camera, now strapped around his neck. He shrugged over your mittens which you had neglected to put on until now, and which you desperately needed.

He took a few photos of you as you slowly moved more toward the middle of the rink, your skates getting colder with each round you made. You decided to stop when you almost bumped into a father and son, Spencer making his amusement known as you embarrassingly skated toward him again.

“I think that’s enough for Mommy.” You huffed.

“Maybe you just need a little more practice.” Spencer batted his dumb, long eyelashes.

“Daddy!” — shouted, but a smile grazed her tiny face.

You sighed, patting her on the back, “thanks for trying to pretend.”

“With pleasure.” She nodded aggressively and tried to furrow her brows into a very serious, very Hotch expression. Unfortunately, it was undermined because of the way she pronounced pleasure as ‘pweajer’. 

You smacked Spencer’s arm for snorting, then held out a hand for the camera. He slid it over with grace, taking —’s hand in his. “Let me show you how a pro skates.” 

— had fallen a couple of times, but she’d taken it like a champ, she was learning the ropes easily, she was a natural–it almost felt ironic in a way.

Your first date with Spencer had been to an ice rink, it was on a whim, sure, but it was still so incredibly special to you. Sometimes you thought how, if the restaurant hadn’t overbooked that day, you never would have walked down that street at the exact moment the ice rink opened in town. 

You never would have stood in line for half an hour eating street food with too loud children, never would have found out how good a skater Spencer was and how horrid you were. (Skating on ice was undoubtedly different from skating with rollerblades–though that also had an ironic notion to it.)

Spencer probably wouldn’t have cracked up every time you fell, wouldn’t have helped you up after every fall, and wouldn’t have fallen himself trying to catch you that last time. You wouldn’t have shared so much so easily with each other that quickly.

You recall the exact moment you knew it would be him or no one. The moment you knew you’d made the right choice in confronting your feelings; it was the moment you knew you were either going to marry him or die single.

He’d just helped you up for the millionth time after trying to hold in his cackle. And just as you’d calmed down, holding the railing, a kid–a girl–fell and began crying. There were no parents in sight, no adults, so it drew your attention immediately. Spencer–without a single second of hesitation–skated toward her and bent down, obviously asking her if she was okay and if she knew where her parents were.

He was able to locate the father, in a few seconds, skating her over to the exit. She must have been no older than six or seven. Time around you moved forward, but the image was ingrained into your brain. You knew he didn’t think so, but to you, Spencer was nothing less than perfect.

— called your name, pulling you back to reality. She and Spencer were skating toward you slowly, he was skating backward, holding her hands. He kept glancing behind him to make sure it was clear. Your heart warmed as the chaos around you froze, like the ice before you. You held up the camera and snapped a photo, the image perfect, just like your husband.

He would be there, you realized, for everything, just like he was here now: in front of you, holding your daughter’s hands… 

Her first school recital, her first crush, her first disappointment–her first heartbreak. He would be there for and after every single one. Picking her back up, hand in hand to lead–to guide her; showing her how to move one foot in front of the other, and you would be there to capture it all.

The illustration in front of you looked like something out of a fantasy; a paper-drawn dream.

a/n: more than halfway through writing this fic, i remembered i'd wanted to listen to seeing blind by Niall Horan, but it played it the background along with willow by Taylo while editing... ily cari !!

taglist: @darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[cheriladycl01]

I’m part of nature right? Photograph me! - Zhou Guanyu x Photographer! Reader

Plot: You’re a nature photographer… but end up at an F1 race?

You’d worked for the national geographic since you could remember. It started with you submitting a picture you took, age 10 on your first camera for the CountryFile Calendar. Then you’re parents helped you make an account online where you posted all your ‘professional’ pictures on. And then you went to university and managed to get an internship with the national geographic where you’d worked your way up ever since.

You’d always loved nature so being able to travel all the time for your job around the world to see what it had to offer was your favourite thing.

You’d been in Japan for about a year covering Fuji and an upcoming documentary, getting loads of content while exploring the country for all it had to offer and making tons of local friends.

One of those local friends was a fellow photographer and invited to an F1 race which was where he took his pictures.

You’d agreed to come after seeing the expensive and once in a lifetime paddock tickets being flashed in front of your face before prepping your camera and everything you might need.

You didn’t know what to expect.

“Lots of car noises, lots of people, it’s hard to get the pictures especially of the drivers as they’re constantly on the move. And the cars … they’re even harder to get” the friend says as he starts to take picture of a driver in orange who’s walking away in his race suit towards the mechanics in the garage.

“Yeah I can tell it’s so different yet so similar to nature in a weird way” you grin.

Yes, there was hours that you were waiting with just the whisps of wind around you and little scurries of feet or tails going through the grass until there were fights between Stags on a cliff. Or a baby monkey peaking out from behind his mother. Which here, amongst all the chaos you were waiting for the one moment … the opposite yet the same.

And do you did. You waited getting the perfect shots of some of the drivers. One that took you most by surprise was Zhou Guanyu in the Neon Green and Black racing suit that matched his car.

“Who’s that?” You ask the friend who looks away from his camera lens pointed towards one of the garages.

“Mmmm he’s the Chinese driver for Sauber. Or Stake. They have a really long ass name so it’s kinda confusing but his name is Zhou Guanyu” he offers looking at where you’re concentrated on.

“I like his helmet. It has cute little animals on it!” You grin having taking a picture of the helmet held down by his leg rather than the driver himself.

Once it came to the actual race you spent lots of time trying to fix your settings to fit the car. There was so much going on that you could get and you didn’t really know where to start and what to have your lens focus on. It was incredibly overwhelming.

You got some good pictures, some even encapsulating your love on nature in them. Using the cherry blossom around the track.

You were looking around the paddock for your friend who you’d come with, camera held against your chest the neck strap holding most of the weight.

As you pause in the middle of the busy walkway to look around for anything familiar you hear a voice shout to you.

“Hey! Watch out!” The voice says, and at first you didn’t register that they were talking to you, until you were pulled to one side.

You look just where you were stood to see a driver go zooming past on a scooter. No regard for anything other than their destination.

“You’ve got to be careful it’s busy here” the same voice says and it’s the first time you look up at them.

It was the guy you’d noticed earlier except now he wasn’t in his green and black race suit. He was actually really fashionable, your fingers twitched on instinct at your camera. Whenever you saw something pretty you had to take a picture and right now he read the prettiest thing around.

“Are you okay?” He asks at your silence.

“Erm, yes sorry I - it was my fault I was looking for my friend and I think I got a little lost. It’s my first time taking pictures at a race, you see I’m usuallya photographer in nature. But I’ve been living in Japan for a while now and this friend asked me to come here to Suzuka with him as he takes pictures of the cars and … now I’m rambling and you probably don’t care” you smile awkwardly at the man in front of you who wears a grin.

“It’s okay, keep talking. I could listen to you all day, you have a pretty voice” he smirks and when you look at his whole face your brain sort of short circuits.

God he was pretty.

“I erm, well did you want to see the pictures I took! I think I got one of your car. But erm I didn’t get many because I had this spot and was taking pictures of the cars with the cherry blossom, see look at this red car, I think that’s the Ferrari right?” You ask showing him the picture of the red car surrounded by the cherry blossom you’d found. “But you’re car colours didn’t really look great with the light pink, but I got some really cool pics of you when it started to rain see!” You smile showing him the picture you’d got.

“Woah these are really cool! You said you photographed nature?” He asks cocking his head to the side.

“Oh yeah! I work for the national geographic, it’s like a ma-“ you start but he just laughs.

“I’m… familiar with the national geographic, that’s pretty impressive” he grins and you blush forgetting that you’d worked for a big international company and not a small niche side shop in Manchester anymore.

“Oh, right yeah of course you are!” You stutter awkwardly.

“You know I’m part of nature why don’t you photograph me?” He asks in a teasing tone.

“Actually, I’d love too, right now where the sun is setting it’s getting the perfect sheen across your eyes and then the backdrop of the track is super cool and with this lens it will come out super clear and… sorry” you say looking down and he just laughs.

“Go on take the picture” he prompts making you grin and take a careful step back, making sure you aren’t in the way. You snap a few pictures of him, he seems to naturally look good on camera. It was actually like the camera was secretly drawn to him.

“Maybe we could grab a coffee and you can show me round your favourite places in Japan while you show me your photos?” He asks confidently and your brain malfunctions once again, as you’re about to snap the last picture.

Was this guy asking you on a date? You couldn’t help but wonder to yourself as you watched his face ease into a smile as he patiently waited for you answer.

“YES” you blurt out before covering your mouth embarrassed by how brash you’d sounded.

“Sorry erm yes I would love too! When are you … like done up around here I’m not too familiar with … it all” you laugh looking around the paddock that’s starting to be packed away.

“I can leave now, I just have to check out with the team. Why don’t you wait for me by the paddock entrance and we can get the train to where you’re going to take me?” He asks and you nod, he gives your hand a little squeeze before running off towards the Stake hospitality.

You say goodbye to your friend who you found on your way out, who didn’t want to leave you all alone at first not believing who you were meeting but when you assured him you’d be okay he nodded and left.

You were waiting for what felt like hours until you saw Zhou come running towards you.

“Sorry that took longer than I expected. Now where were we?” He asks with a smile taking your hand.

“To the train station. We’re going to Osaka” you smile. It was one of your favourite (that was easily accessible) places in Japan.

“I’ve never been! I’m very excited” he grins as you guys walk out and towards the train station.

You guys spent the evening in Osaka, you showed him all your favourite street foods, and the first places you’d visited. You told him the story where you’d got lost and an old Japanese man tired to help you, with your broken mix of English and the Japanese you’d picked up.

He didn’t really have many stories but he was more than happy to listen to you. Chip in every now and then when he felt necessary or had something of value to say.

“Next year you can come to China, not just for the race but I think you’ll enjoy taking pictures there!” He smiles and you grin.

“That’s actually my next assignment” you admit.

“What?!” He asks in shock.

“I’m on the Asia leg right now. We normally switch out every few years so before Japan I was in Cambodia for 2 months, then Japan and then I’m moving into China” you explain.

“You know what, we might just be soulmates” he teases as he bites into the Tokoyaki you’d brought for him to try bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Yeah?” You laugh, taking a bite of your own salty deep fried goodness.

“Mmmmm yeah” he smiles.

y/user

Liked by zhouguanyu24 and others

y/user: Really different environment this weekend in 🇯🇵. Really had a great time learning what it takes to be a car photographer and it’s really not for the weak. I think I’ll stick with nature for now.

View all comments

zhouguanyu24: it was nice to meet you. I hope to see you at another race 🏁

-> y/user: it was incredible to meet you too!

fan1: who is this KYMILLMAN wannabe

-> fan2: she’s a photographer for the national geo. She went to an f1 race for leisure and obviously got some of the best pictures ever

fan3: my goat

fan4: who did you have the most fun meeting?

-> y/user: meeting Zhou was the highlight of my trip 👍🏼

Instagram Story Caption

Day out in Japan 🇯🇵

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Exchange

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

Summary: Your father surprises you for Christmas.

Character: Cole Turner

Day Twenty-Three of the December Daze Challenge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready for what?” 

“You questioning me, girl?” He growls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy?” 

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

“He? Daddy?” 

“You’re so fucking mouthy, go.” 

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

“Are you coming?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready?” He asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See, isn’t this nice?” 

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

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

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

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

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

[spacexgrl]

Bittersweet ! 💋

mdni <3 you’re here pt 8

series masterlist 🍒

~ in which Ellie breaks up with you and you go a little crazy ~

ex! ellie williams x fem! reader , abby anderson x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: SMUT!!! angst, break up, cheating,cursing, toxic behavior, smut in future chapters, sexual themes<3 feminine and girly reader ,not proof read!!

taglist: pls comment if you want to be added! <3 @elliessweetheart @lonelyfooryouonly @vamp1reg1rrrl @autisticintr0vert @amsxdoll @addthespaghetti @hemmo01 @elliecoochieeater @to-the-stray-dogs @teenagemoonharmony @velvetcakegirlie @kl1q @cirrusdoll @icedsimpsayo @softrosekisses @bbnbhm @5sos @hopelesssheaven

The short drive to the restaurant was so fucking shitty already oh and don’t get her started on the fight that ellie had with dina while getting ready. She recalled that annoying voice of her girlfriend screaming and nagging at her for her outfit even though it was the most formal thing she owned…it had a meaning also but dina absolutely hated it ellie are you serious? you can’t wear that it’s like 40 years old what will my family think?! Ellie rolled her eyes and ignored her comments, she didn’t give a flying fuck it was a perfectly fine outfit and she looked so good in her newest pair of black pants, a white button up shirt and Joel’s old jacket that he gifted Ellie because it didn’t fit him anymore..(it was from his young years he saved it for her!)

she remembered when you surprised her with sewing it tighter so it fit her properly! She can’t stop looking at the small detail you also left for her..your initials sewed on the inside of her right sleeve by her wrist..in a delicate baby blue color..she let out a heavy sigh on the passenger seat of dina’s car, her head glued on the window not daring to take a look at her girlfriend..she insisted on driving not wanting her family to see her get into Joel’s beat up truck ellie please i’ll drive..not planning to drink anyway..my family can’t see me get into your old ass truck at this point ellie just accepted that she’ll never meet the expectations of her girlfriends family..thank god dina’s driving because ellie would’ve driven into a tree on full speed wouldn’t survive without a drink or two..

that’s when her mind wandered to her first meeting with your parents it was a hot summer night you and ellie spent the entire day outside got some ice cream and forced ellie to tan with you..which resulted in a big sunburn on her back..it was painful as fuck but she didn’t care because she just had so much fun with you besides you took care of her sunburn for the next few days so she didn’t complain…later that day you invited her for dinner with your family it was a barbecue in your backyard your dad busy with everything that was on the grill he always placed extra meat on ellie’s plate so she can get big and strong as she commented that she just started working out..your mom giggled don’t eat too much from the grill i still have dessert in the fridge! and it was the best tiramisu she’s ever eaten in her entire life

..that night she also stayed at your house..you stayed up until you could see the beautiful sunrise from your balcony..your eyes were glued to the beautiful scenery in front of you but ellie’s eyes never left you..the way the sunlight kissed your nose and spread all over your face making you look like the angel you were and still are today..if the sun was a person it would always be you. ellie look the sunrise is so pretty! your smile almost blinded her because it was so beautiful and bright under the golden light..yeah it’s pretty..but you’re prettier…

Ellie woke up from her daydream as dina parked the car, heart heavy in her chest as she replayed the memories of you in her head..rethinking about what she could’ve had if she hadn’t been a total asshole..in moments like these she’d smoke a blunt or/and ‘pop’ an edible as she’d always say..(depending on how horrible she’s feeling) ever since you broke up her consumption habits have increased..she couldn’t even remember the last day that she was fully sober..but she wanted to make a good first impression today right? she regretted staying sober so bad

Ellie and Dina got into the restaurant silently, the friendly waiter walked them to their table with freshly baked bread, olive oil and red wine vinegar..ellie munched mindlessly on a piece of bread and burned her tongue while they waited for her family to arrive, still in complete silence…as she was about to give some lame ass excuse to go outside to smoke an emergency cigarette she had in her pockets (just in case she needed to calm herself down) Dina’s family arrived , not noticing you and abby right behind them.

here goes nothing

💫

you were blown away by the restaurant, you couldn’t even believe that it was a real place..it was on the highest floor of a tall building surrounded by big windows allowing you to see your city from above..you could see every single light and movement of the night it was really beautiful.

“ahh yes miss anderson! It’s a pleasure to have you and your beautiful lady here, please follow me i’ll lead you to your table.”

you and abby thanked him and took a seat.

“would you like a bottle of our finest vino tinto? i can also get you champagne or something from our variation of cocktails?”

both of you looked through the menu and decided that you wanted to share an appetizer, then you moved on to the main course, convincing abby to choose something you wanted to try too so you can share.

“i’m the driver today so i’ll take a sparkling water with lemon please and no dessert for me”

the waiter nodded as he selected her choices on his electronic device then he turned in your direction.

“i’ll take a frozen strawberry daiquiri and a matcha crème brûlée for dessert please”

he thanked you two and moved on to the other tables.

Ellie’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets by her starstruck expression as she spotted you and anderson. The way you held onto her bicep as you walked to your table made her blood boil, the fake smile she put on her face fell almost immediately. The fact that you looked like a model in your pretty dress and obviously new designer shoes didn’t make it any better. You looked like someone out of a movie..you looked like abby’s trophy wife and it hurt so fucking bad how perfect you looked together.

Ellie’s sadness quickly turned into pure disgusting jealousy as abby pulled her sleeves up to her elbows, exposing her obnoxiously shiny rolex and her stupid toned and veiny underarms. She observed how you drooled over her, biting your lip and giving her those bedroom eyes Ellie used to receive…as if you’d fuck her right there and then and she hated it she hated every second of it..

or did she?

Ellie started losing herself in her thoughts again..the voices of dina and her family slowly fading away as her mind wandered while her eyes were focused on you..suddenly you stood up and climbed onto the table, now you were on all fours moving towards abby until you were eye to eye with your noses touching..abby was already unbuttoning her shirt, exposing her chest.. the way you arched your back made her head spin it only got worse as you proceeded to crash your lips on abby‘s, devouring her mouth with your wet tongue while biting and sucking on her lower lip..

you let go of her and got on the ground again, you slipped your dress right off of your shoulders..red fabric pooling right by your ankles leaving you in nothing but your expensive designer heels. Ellie was a drooling mess she could cum from the sight alone..jesus fuck she cursed under her breath as you undressed abby, revealing her big navy strap on underneath her slacks..she took a seat on the table with you on top of her facing your backside..her rough hands grabbed onto your waist and picked you up..hovering your asshole on top of her lubed up cock..giving ellie a perfect view of your fucked out face while spreading your legs open..your dripping pussy on perfect display.

“abby fuck my ass please! yesyes fuck just like that-ah!” you begged for abby as she lowered your body down on her length..your tight walls swallowing her whole as she moved you up and down..Ellie’s eyes almost missed the way you mouthed ‘come here’ as she ogled your bouncing tits…your pornographic moans filled the entire room but the other guests acted like you weren’t there..Ellie didn’t give a fuck she needed to be inside you now..she hurriedly got up from her chair and undressed immediately on her short way to your table where you were being fucked in the ass by abby..as she unbuttoned her pants she revealed the strap she was suddenly wearing herself..it’s so thick and your favorite shade of pink..god she remembered how much you loved it when she fucked you with that one..ellie positioned herself in between yours and abby’s spread legs..she teased your drooling hole with her tip and grabbed your jaw “beg for me slut” your eyes proceed to water yes you loved the way abby split your ass open but you needed ellie you needed more “ellie baby please fuck my pussy! a-ah i’ll do anything just stuff me daddy!”

your breath hitched when ellie held both of your legs open as she slammed her hips into your cunt..every time her fat tip dragged across your sweet spot you could see stars the sensation of your holes being abused and filled at the same time sent you into an entire different dimension you were about to squirt everywhere if they kept going like this!!

“god ellie just like that! so fucking good baby! gonna cum so hard oh-!”

she loved when you screamed her name

“ellie! ellie!”

you sneaked your arms around her neck and pulled her into a heated kiss, teeth colliding as you tried to kiss her harder and harder while the familiar sensation of an orgasm approached

“ellie ‘m gonna-“

snap!

“earth to ellie? your food’s getting cold”

Ellie woke up from her second daydream of the day with uncomfortably drenched boxers as dina snapped her fingers in her face, seemingly disappointed in her girlfriend’s inattentive and distracted behavior..she quickly figured that it had to do with you..of fucking course it’s always your fault for appearing in the same places as ellie all the damn time..dina rolled her eyes as she looked in your direction nausea creeping up from her stomach as she studied how flawlessly perfect you looked..there’s no way ellie could get over you..the sting of jealousy that appeared on her heart was starting to turn into defeat..not knowing how long she can put up with ellie anymore ..she loved her she truly did but there’s just no way that ellie could love her the way she loves you..and deep down she knows that you’re not one to blame..dina wants to despise you so fucking bad but she can’t..she was the reason why your relationship with ellie fell apart after all and she’s developing feelings of pure guilt..she wished she could apologize to you but she’ll never have the guts to do so..and to be completely honest? you don’t want to hear shit out of her fucking mouth because it’s not her job to clean up after ellie’s mistakes..you’re not having any of that.

“yeah sorry needed to let it cool down for a bit”

ellie said quietly while taking a bite of her cold ass food..following with an extremely awkward silence until talia picked up a conversation with her again..eager to know all about her sister’s new lover girl..praying that she could be the one for her..

if she only knew..

💫

you and abby had a fantastic night..your meals were absolutely delicious but the cocktails were definitely your favorites! you were on number three by now abby noticed that you got more chatty the more alcohol you consumed and she found it really cute..she could stare at you and listen to your random rambling for hours to no end..right now you were telling her about you dream designer bags she had her phone by her lap and put them into her shopping cart to surprise you with two or three bags soon..she prayed to god that her dad wasn’t checking her bank account history..

“wanna head back home, baby? i’m craving some dessert right now..”

🎀

to be continued!!

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 8 part 9

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9])

knowing how ridiculous rio is, I fear she's going to make 'mourning agatha' her whole personality from now on

billy looking all chill like, so this is who agatha was boinking cool cool cool cool cool

and rio, honey. *deep sigh* you made a whole fucking deal about billy being an abomination. you can't just let him live now because you pinky promised your wife. especially bcs you're not even going to collect her. you're just going to be extremely emo about this whole thing, aren't you? MY BELOVED IS GONE SO I AM A SKULL NOW, I HAVE NO HUMANITY LEFT. babe. mourning is the most human thing you could do right now, who are we kidding.

(did they cgi the skull this time? it looks great tbh, that's what cgi should be used for, to enhance little things when it's needed, not to take over the whole process.)

this joke has been made a million times, but:

the Wanda Walk of Shame™

and yes while it is funny that he just gets in his subaru and leaves, what was he supposed to do?? just leave his car in westview? what if his mom and dad need it? how was he supposed to know he'd learn how to fly during the night?

how are we doing, bud? you've had a weird fucking day, haven't you

my parents were so worried!!! jeff and rebecca kaplan please adopt me

I love to snoop around billy's room. lorna wu and the wizard of oz, but also tarots, moon phases, astrology, esotericism and pride stickers galore. and jennifer's body!

now it's time for billy to do the math meme. the wicked witch is even wearing a brooch, it's not that hard to figure out

poltergeist II, haxan, buffy, rocky horror. does anyone know what's the poster on the right behind the lava lamp is, with the woman and the red devil?

AND. LAST BUT NOT LEAST. THE TRANS LIVES MATTERS FLAG.

carrie, the craft, saw. sindie and the spectres, never heard of that one. the incantations. evanescence, tove lo.

good morning, sleeping beauty!

agatha harkness: asshole, menace, toddler. now in ghost form!

eight episodes down, one to go. I'm not ready.

go to episode 9 part 1

[cognitiveoverload]

The secret is out (Aaron Hotchner x fem!BAU!reader)

summary: You and Hotch have been dating for half a year in secret. When the team decides it's time to help Spencer ask you out during the Christmas dinner you host for them, Hotch realizes that it might be time to tell the truth.

note: Takes place after Hotch's divorce, but before Haley's death.

The whole Christmas dinner is the result of a chain reaction. You invited Penelope, who invited Derek, who invited Spencer, who invited JJ, who invited Emily, who invited Dave, and finally, Dave invited Hotch. And to make things worse, this time there is a plan—the plan to help Spencer make the first move and finally ask you out. 

When Dave tells Hotch about it in the car on the way to the dinner, he smiles and acts like it’s adorable. Normally, it would be exactly that. They all love Spencer, they all want him to be happy, but considering Hotch only left your apartment this morning, he isn’t the right person to ask for help with this. This only makes him wonder if you should make your relationship official, if you should tell the team that the two of you have been seeing each other for over half a year now. 

“The early birds,” you say with a warm smile when you open the door and let them inside.

Dave glances down at his watch for a brief moment, then, as he walks past you, he speaks up. “I guess it means we’re the first ones.” When you hum in agreement, he stops and turns to look at the other man. “I told you we’re gonna be way too early.”

It takes every ounce of willpower not to tell him it wasn’t his idea to come together. He’s here exactly when he wanted to arrive, it’s not his fault that Dave decided to tag along. With a forced smile, he shrugs and shows you the two bottles of wine he brought as a gift. “Is there a wine cooler somewhere?” he asks casually.

You close the closet where you put their coats, then turn back to nod. “My parents love wine, so of course they have one,” you reply with a short laugh. “Not like they were alcoholics, they just… you know.” Hotch has to fight hard to keep his emotions in check, but you notice. You always notice. “Oh, sure, I’ll lead the way,” you say, signaling him to follow you. 

Since you made sure Dave was occupied with the photos in the living room, you quickly take the bottles from Hotch to put them in the cooler, then return to him with a seductive smile. “I missed you.” He leans closer, his lips almost touching yours as he speaks, knowing perfectly well this most probably makes your heart rate jump. “I’m sorry, Dave insisted on coming with me.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a loving smile.

These are one of those rare occasions when Hotch can loosen up, getting lost in the moment, so he doesn’t hesitate to close the gap and kiss you gently, letting his arm sneak around your waist as he pulls you closer. He knows he has to warn you, and he knows you should know how he feels about that plan, but it’s so good to have you like this again. You’re like a drug, and he loves the high you give him, and each time he tastes your lips, he just knows you should make your relationship official.

As stupid as it is, he wants to let everyone know that you’re his, he wants to mark his territory, and if he has to face the wrath of his team for hiding something like this, so be it. Because whenever he sees you interact with his son, he knows this is what he wants, and not just with Jack, but with a child that’s yours entirely. This is what’s been on his mind lately, and the thought is driving him crazy.

“There’s something I want to discuss with you,” he speaks up as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

But before he could go on, you hear Dave clear his throat in the door, and when you both turn to look at him, he’s watching you with a knowing smile. “I wanted to tell Hotch we left the gifts in the car, but I guess I’ll bring them in myself since he’s busy at the moment,” he announces teasingly. 

Hotch lets you go and takes a step closer to his colleague. “Dave, I can explain,” he says, knowing he should give an explanation. After all, he’s your boss, you’re a lot younger, and he just agreed to help Spencer ask you out a good half an hour ago. It probably doesn’t look good from the outside. 

Smiling, Dave shoves his hands into his pockets. “No need to explain, I’ve seen enough. The best you can do now is laying your cards on the table when we’re all together. Spencer really likes her, and tonight everyone will be doing their best to get them together. Just be honest,” he tells the two of you, then turns around to leave the house.

You wrap your arms around his body and bury your face into his chest, and he lets out a sigh before placing a kiss on the top of your head. “He’s right, we need to tell them,” he says softly, leaning back just enough to look you in the eye. 

“Okay,” you agree weakly. 

For a few moments you watch him with those big, doe eyes, which brings back his earlier thoughts. “There’s something I want to tell you before Dave returns,” he begins, his voice carrying the kind of uncertainty and vulnerability that he only allows to have around you. When you hum to make him continue, he exhales slowly to prepare himself. “I would like to have another child. With you.”

At first, you don’t react at all, as if the statement completely froze your brain. But then you slowly blink at him, your lips slightly parting as you take a breath. “A baby?” you ask quietly, earning a nod in response. 

“I know we haven’t been together for that long, but I know that I love you. Sure, we don’t have to start the baby project right away, I understand if you’re not ready,” he assures you.

A sweet smile slowly appears on your lips as you stand on your toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you too, Aaron. And maybe having a little kid together isn’t such a bad idea,” you say kindly. But then the sweet smile shifts into a wicked one. “Can you stay the night? I hate to be alone in this stupidly big house, and I think I’ll be too lazy to drive home after dinner.” 

There’s something else, something you’re not telling him, and it takes him a moment to realize what it is. “Oh, wait, you mean…? Tonight?” he asks, unable to hide the confusion that slowly mixes with excitement. 

With an adorable giggle, you take his hand and lace your fingers. “Why not? Unless you have better plans,” you add, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“If you’re serious about this, I won’t have better plans until we have a positive test,” he states before kissing you again.

“I think they’re looking for glasses in the kitchen.”

Hotch is quick to step away from you, grateful that Dave gave you a chance to find an excuse for being there alone. So, without much hesitation, you point at a cabinet and then move to another where your parents keep the coffee mugs. He takes out enough glasses for everyone, then heads to the dining room with them. He can see JJ and Dave discussing something, and she flashes a smile at him when their eyes meet.

“She’s in the kitchen?” JJ asks him, to which he replies with a nod. “I’ll see if she needs more help then.”

When she disappears, Hotch stands in front of Dave with an uncertain look on his face. “Thanks for the warning. We discussed this whole thing, and we’ll tell the team once everyone’s here. This is for the best,” he says. 

The other man lets out a short breath with an amused smile, but he doesn’t say a word–not yet. But then, at the moment they hear a car stopping, followed by the sound of a cheerful conversation, he finally opens his mouth to speak. “You’ll have to talk to HR about this.” Hotch nods. He’s painfully aware of that conversation. “But you both look happy, and if you’re both happy, I’m happy too.”

A sigh of relief escapes his lips upon hearing this. It’s good. You have at least one person in your corner. 

Within a matter of seconds the remaining guests appear, smiling happily as they balance the wrapped gifts in their hands. Once the newcomers settle down, Hotch shepherds everyone into the living room, deciding that this is the perfect time to make the announcement, before the little schemers set their plan into motion. You look a little uncertain, but he doesn’t want to let you feel like that. He stands next to you, but he avoids physical contact for now. 

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all before we sit down to eat up all the food our generous host prepared,” he begins, and out of the corner of his eye he can see you roll your eyes. “You know me, you know I usually respect the regulations, but a few months ago I crossed a line I shouldn’t have. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret it, and I don’t want to stop after this conversation we’re having now. I just wanted you to all know that we started to date a few months ago,” Hotch says as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer. 

Surprise, surprise, a little more surprise, and then there’s the look of betrayal on Spencer’s face. He avoids your gaze, and he doesn’t look at his boss either, but that’s okay, he didn’t expect him to start cheering. This might be tough for him, but he’ll get over it for sure. But the others soon turn supportive; they start to tease them, they come up with jokes, and some even begin to dig deeper to get some more details out of you two. You quickly loosen up enough to answer them, but Hotch doesn’t let you do the talking alone, he’s staying by your side the whole time to support you. 

You’re a little team of two now. Hopefully, you’ll be the mother of his youngest child in the future. It’s his duty to always protect you.

[stargazedwinchester]

Stanford ♡ Sam

Summary: You meet your new roommate, Sam Winchester.

Word Count: 1,320

Pairing: Student!Sam, Student!FemReader

My new upload schedule has changed! There will be a new post every Wednesday and Saturday 12:30 GMT (Excluding this one). Part 2 to this will be up Christmas Day meaning there won't be another imagine until the 1st of January. I'm posting this one today because part 2 will be Christmas themed and I don't want to post it late as it'll lose the feel of the story if that makes sense? Anyway, enjoy!

The intricate designs on the walls of Stanford University were unreal. The building’s age exceeds a century; its continued beauty is astonishing. You make your way through the vast arches, looking down at the map of the University provided by senior students standing by the front gate.

‘Dorm 143,’ you hum to yourself, the signs on the walls guiding you in the right direction. You guide your way up the stairs and take a right turn, walking down a lively corridor. You find your room and unlock it with your key, then you’re greeted with a stuffy odour and a plain dorm. Observing the empty space, you plant your bags on the left side of the room. The walls are a boring white and the curtains are bland. There’s no character to this place and you can’t wait to waste your student loan on decorating, so it feels like home.

You open up a window to allow fresh air to flow through, when the door bursts open and the bustle from outside echoes throughout the dorm. A 6 foot something guy balances 2 boxes on top of each other, tossing them on the floor. He doesn’t even notice you before looking up.

“Oh, hey! Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he exclaims, fixing his fringe, smiling at you cordially. He’s wearing a light, muted blue Nike sweatshirt and a suede jacket on top with dark denim jeans and Nike trainers. He’s a very cute guy and you’re unsure whether he’s got the right room.

“Sorry, I’m Sam. Winchester.” He pauses, holding out a hand for you to shake. You take it. You smile back at him. “I’m Y/N. Are you sure you have the right room?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” He asks and you shrug. “I dunno. You don’t seem the type to study law.” He snickers at your comment, furrowing his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just don’t look the type, that’s all.” You look down at the floor, somewhat embarrassed at what you’ve just said to him. Sam chortles. “Right… Okay.” He says, he turns around and places the boxes he brought in on the right side of the room. You feel very awkward at this point, so you take yourself toward the door to go outside and pick up the rest of your stuff. “Where’re you going?” Sam asks curiously, and you glance at him quickly. “I need to go pick up the rest of my stuff from my car,” you say, “it’s okay. I can get it myself.” You insist and Sam walks toward you. “Let me help you.” He towers over you as he holds the door open. You feel bad if you reject his offer, so you allow him to follow you down to your car, anyway. It could help having an extra pair of hands to bring your things up.

You lead Sam to the pickup truck that you borrowed from your parents, multiple boxes filling the passenger side and even more in the back. Unlocking your car, Sam immediately jumps in and picks up two boxes at a time. You attempt to take two as well, but fail miserably. He chuckles at you. “Here, give it to me,” Sam says, and you carefully place a box on top of the ones he’s already holding.

“So… What’re you doing for the rest of the day?” He asks, trying to break the silence.

“Well, it’s probably gonna take me a while to unpack my things,” you pause in thought, oblivious to what he’s attempting to ask you. “How come?” You question and he shakes his head lightly. “No reason.” He smiles at you. You reach your door and you let yourselves in. Sam places your boxes on the floor carefully, then leaving the room once more. He tells you he’s going to pick up the remaining boxes and for you to stay there. You turn around and look at Sam’s side. There’s a noticeable difference between yours and Sam’s boxes. He had only brought two whilst you have five overstuffed boxes sitting along your bed frame. You almost feel guilty for him. The minimal amount of stuff he’s brought makes you ponder what his life was like before this, before Stanford became reality.

You pick up his coat that was sprawled out on his bed, his wallet barely hanging out from his pocket. A small, frayed polaroid photo peeks out from inside the wallet, a photo of Sam and another guy with short, brown hair and a dark brown leather jacket. He’s wearing an amulet, it’s a brushed bronze colour on a black chord. They seem happy. You notice some lights in the dim background and a quaint Christmas tree; you assume the photo was taken last year. A gentle smile graces your face at the thought of him sharing Christmas with someone. Disregarding the amount of things he’s brought with him, at least he has family to lean back on and that’s where the best memories are kept.

Sam suddenly strolls in, his eye’s taking a second glance at his polaroid quickly being thrown on the bed. He sets the boxes down and places his hands on his hips. “Were you going through my things?” He scoffs, his eyebrow flicks up in disbelief. “I was tidying your things and a polaroid fell out…” You tell a white lie, nothing that would hurt him. Sam laughs lightly, his deep dimples complimenting his face. “It’s okay. It’s my brother and I,” he starts, picking up the picture and examining it himself. “He’s called Dean. Before last Christmas I hadn’t seen him for 2 years. Our father travels a lot and we never get a chance to get together as a family.” Sam looks at you, some regret lingering in his eyes. Your gaze drops to the floor. You just know that there’s something more going on that he’s not telling you, for obvious reasons. Sam notices the change in topic. “Dean’s an asshole, but he’s my brother. He’s a good guy.” Sam places the polaroid in his wallet and hangs his coat up on the rack at the end of his bed.

A few hours had gone by, and at this point you have given up on putting things away and tidying up. Sam sits on his bed, scribbling something on a notepad. He has been quiet since your interaction earlier. Sam had helped you put your things away, but then gave up when it came to your clothes. You relax on your bed, letting out a deep sigh.

“God, I need to get out.” You complain, Sam not moving an inch. He doesn’t even look at you. You sit up on the bed, looking directly at Sam. “I want to go out.” You repeat, and a smile creeps up on his face. “Then go out,” he starts, “no one’s stopping you.” He then goes back to whatever he was writing on his notepad.

“Come out with me.” You suggest, and he huffs.

“Now, why would I want to do that?”

“Because we’re roommates, Sam. We have to get to know each other.” You explain, hoping that he will give in. He sets his notebook down and stands up. He walks over to grab his coat and passes you yours. “Fine. On one condition.” Sam has a cheeky look on his face that proves he’s about to test the waters.

“Go on,”

“You agree that this will be our first date?” He asks, and your cheeks flush red. “I can’t pass up an opportunity to take a pretty girl out.” He adds, making your heart skip a beat. “Sure, it’s a date. But on one condition,” you copy and he lets out a chuckle. “Yeah?” He moves closer to you, his height clearly showing the difference between you both. “Only if you drive.” You prod at his chest, causing him to recoil playfully.

[mpregandproud]

Santa Claus has come early this year

“Did we have to wait until the last minute to leave for a trip to my parents' house?”, I asked Trevor from the back seat of his car. I was nervous about seeing my family again for the first time in four years. And if you add to that the fact that I'm going to introduce my boyfriend, it's even stronger. But it doesn't stop there, because, surprise surprise, I'm about to give birth to twins, and at home they don't know it.

“My love, I haven't been able to take a vacation from work before. Remember, we need this job now that we are going to be four at home”, Trevor answered me with a smile, the one that made me fall in love with him years ago.

“Sure, if you hadn't insisted on fucking me without a condom the night of our graduation I wouldn't be like this now…and you know it”, I replied as a new contraction twisted me in pain. They've been happening with increasing frequency for a couple of hours now, but they say it's normal to have contractions the last few weeks of pregnancy.

“I don't remember you putting up much resistance. In fact, you had been insisting for months to fuck without condom, that nothing would happen”, again he was right.

The pain was returning, and it had only been a few seconds since the previous contraction. This didn't look good at all, for whatever reason, it seemed that my body was preparing to give birth immediately. I lifted up my shirt so I could touch my belly directly and somehow ease the pain. “Not now, my loves, wait a few days we have to get to Grandma and Grandpa's house and enjoy Christmas,” I whispered so quietly so Trevor wouldn't hear me and not alarm him.

“Scott, I know that in addition to your nerves about coming home after all this time you've been having contractions for hours. I've seen you looking sore and holding your belly with your hands non-stop since we've left our home. Are you sure you don't want us to turn around and go to the hospital?” he said very sweetly. Trevor doesn't miss a thing, as usual for him. He has always been very observant, especially when it comes to me. I've tried to hide it as best I can, but it's clear that with him I'm not going to be able to fool him that easily.

“No, I'm ok", I lied. "Let's keep going, we are no far from my parents house. The braxton hicks contractions are getting stronger than I thought they were going to be, but I'm ok, dear”, I replied.

The night before Trevor and I fucked so intensely that I guess it has accelerated labor. It was our way of taking out our physical needs for a few days. At my parents' house it won't be easy to fuck having them in the next room, let alone when my mother sees that I'm about to give birth. As a doctor she is sure to recommend absolute rest, and no sex. I gently stroked the huge belly I've been sporting for months now. It will be impossible for her to let us do dirty things when she sees me this fat because of the pregnancy. I look like a beach ball.

I had always been a skinny boy, until I started playing rugby at the age of 16 and my physique changed. In a few months I grew 20 centimeters, put on weight and gained muscle. I went from being the ugly duckling in class to a swan. In my village, which was very small, hardly anyone knew I was gay, not even my own parents, but in high school a few did. Actually, it was hard to hide it when half my class met me in the locker room during my senior year for post-game. You know what I mean.

Still, I went to college without my parents knowing anything about my private life. It's hard to come out as gay when you have very traditional parents and fulfill the alpha male prototype who is good at sports and attracts a lot of girls. The comments about why I didn't have a girlfriend or when I was going to bring a girl home were constant. I couldn't stand it, so as soon as I had the chance I chose a college far away, on the other side of the country, to get out of that environment and live my life freely.

It was the first summer after college, when I went back for vacation, that I told my parents everything. At that time I had a boyfriend, who was not Trevor, who I would have liked to take with me on vacation to the village and have them meet my family and friends, but it was not possible. I wish to introduce them, perhaps, at Christmas, so I plucked up the courage and told them I was gay and had a boyfriend. The conversation was very tense, and while they didn't kick me out of their house, it was a horrible summer, full of tension. My relationship with my parents worsened, so much so that I haven't seen them in person for four years.

My little sister did understand, she has always loved me very much and she has been the reason why I have regained contact with mom and dad in the last year. She has made it possible for them to understand that I am different and that is not a bad thing, that I have not failed them as a son. So it was only a matter of time before we saw each other again, and what better than a Christmas meeting to reconnect with the family.

The pain is already becoming unbearable. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH, FUCK,” I screamed. I was sweating. My whole body was already covered in sweat, my face looked like a tomato in red in reflection of the rear view mirror. So the inevitable happened, my water broke right there, in the back seat of Trevor's car, in the middle of a monumental traffic jam, just 10 kilometers from getting home. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong. I was in labor, far from a hospital, with two children in an immense hurry to come into the world and with the only company of my boyfriend Trevor, the babies' father. And no, Trevor is not a doctor, he works in marketing, which I highly doubt is a career that prepares you to deliver a baby.

As expected, Trevor stopped the car dead in the middle of the road. Dense, slow-moving traffic honked at him. Drivers honked as Trevor put the warning signal on the car and got out of the driver's position to come around back to lend a hand. He didn't care about anything else, his only concern was me and our kids. In all the pain I am feeling and the anguish of having to give birth in a car and without an epidural, I know I can't be in better hands, in the hands of the man who loves and cares for me the most.

I have told my parents about Trevor. I have told them how much we love each other and that we have been together for three years. My sister has taken it upon herself to show them pictures of us traveling around the country, going for a morning run together or cooking at home. We are like those ideal couples in the movies. All our friends tell us that we're made for each other, and even my sister, who hasn't seen us in person all this time, says she's in love with our relationship.

I met Trevor after I broke up with Ian, my first boyfriend in college. I was heartbroken after my first major heartbreak. Ian was very important to me in building up my courage and opening up to my family, even if it didn't quite work out, but he played a key role in my life. That breakup left me devastated and I became more lonely. I stopped partying, I became very lonely. That's when Trevor came into my life to change everything.

Trevor is what we can call a nerd. A very studious and hardworking guy. A person who doesn't quite fit into the world, although when you see him you don't quite understand why, because there is no more handsome and kind man on earth. His glasses, his brown hair and his green eyes made me fall in love with him, not to mention his perfect smile, my weakness. He came as Superman to save me, in fact he looks a bit like a superhero.

We met studying in the library, and then we started to meet in all kinds of places: in the cafeteria, at the college, walking around the campus… We decided to leave the coincidences aside and start meeting seriously. And from there we went from 0 to everything in the blink of an eye. I felt sparks, an awesome chemistry from the first moment, and so did he. It's like dating my best friend. The person who best understands me and complements me, a man who cares about me and helps me, who wants the best of me and loves me deeply. He has managed to make me settle down. I didn't see myself having children, sharing a house or living as a couple yet. I felt that all those things were things that older people did much later in life, but at 25 years old I am living a dream that I don't want to wake up from.

What I didn't tell my parents about was the babies. Trevor, my sister and I thought it was best to surprise them at the time. Coming out to them again as an openly gay man and in a stable relationship was already complex, so to add the babies factor to them was to complicate matters even more. We agreed that coming home with a huge pregnant belly wasn't going to be much easier either, but we trusted that the Christmas spirit would do its job.

Perhaps that spirit has done its job too well, as Santa has gone ahead to bring the Christmas present, their first two grandchildren are about to arrive in the world.

“Scott, lie down better like this and put your legs over my shoulders”, between pains I obeyed Trevor. Thank goodness he has attended childbirth preparation classes. I do as he asks with difficulty, resting my left arm on my belly to accompany the movement. I'm panting from exhaustion, and I haven't pushed a baby out yet. Trevor examines me and utters the words I was most afraid to hear, “he's here, I see his head, he's coming out. It's coming, baby”.

He put one hand on my belly to help me, and with the other he held my free hand, to convey his strength to me. “Take advantage of the contractions, Scott, very good. Push, now!” he said softly, encouraging me. The pain, immense from the contractions, came to nothing with the sensation of seeing that my body could be split in two by a huge baby that was coming out from between my legs. If that wasn't enough, for some reason, my penis became erect and a feeling of excitement ran through my body as well. I had already been warned that when we men give birth these things happen, but I never thought that the most terrible and the most pleasurable sensation could be experienced at the same time.

It took me five minutes to give birth to Ron, our first son. He looked like his father. A beautiful baby boy that Trevor wrapped in one of the t-shirts he carried in his suitcase. After I breastfed him a little he put the baby in the front seat. “I'm sorry to cut this moment short, but his baby brother is coming. My love, it's time to do it all over again. You've done great so far. A few last pushes and it will all be over,” he encouraged me.

I was already exhausted, exhausted from all the effort I had made. I wanted to stop, to end it all, to stop pushing and go back to cuddling my son. But I knew I had no choice. I couldn't delay that moment any longer. Ever since that night Trevor got me pregnant I knew this moment would come, though I didn't know I would have to experience it twice.

Nine months ago we graduated. Trevor in Marketing and Advertising and me in Literature. After four years of college we were going out into the world. Our colleges were next door to each other, so our graduating classes already knew each other, so it was no surprise when the two classes got together and decided to celebrate at the same time. For Trevor and me it was the best plan in the world, to be able to experience such a special moment for both of us hand in hand.

After the party we went back to our apartment together and we celebrated together, as we were supposed to. Trevor is right, I had been wanting to make love to him without protection for a long time, despite the risk of getting pregnant. I'll never admit it to him, but there was something about the risk of getting pregnant that really turned me on. Something inside me was screaming for it to happen. I was turned on by the thought that my boyfriend could plant his seed inside me and it would grow in the form of a baby. Without much thought we did it. It was one of the best nights of my life. Trevor was especially tender and affectionate with me, and he had never fucked me like he did that night. An electric current ran through my body, I felt more alive than ever and it was all thanks to this man I want to share the rest of my life with.

We found out I was pregnant just two weeks later. We had both just started working, he at a prestigious marketing agency and I at an independent book publisher that is in the process of expanding across the country. The news caught us by surprise. Despite everything, it was clear to both of us that we wanted to move forward with the process and have our little ones. We moved to a bigger apartment with the help of Trevor's parents and in the past few months we have been preparing everything for the arrival of these two children.

It hasn't been easy going from being a twink to a strapping guy and now looking like a beached whale. The two boys have grown a huge amount, not surprising considering both Trevor and I are both big men. The anxiety of planning to reunite with my family hasn't helped either. Food has been a way to overcome this life anxiety. The last two months I put on a lot more weight than is normal for this type of twin pregnancy. My doctor has conveyed his concern about the weight gain, although Trevor, on the other hand, has assured me that my pregnant self is the sexiest he has ever seen me in his life.

Maybe it's true that I make Trevor really horny when I'm this huge. During these nine months we haven't stopped fucking. Fortunately, my boyfriend is not one of those men who are afraid of hurting babies while their partner is pregnant, which never happens. Last night, knowing that we will spend the next few days at my parents' house, so it will be more difficult to make love there, Trevor proposed to me to repeat step by step that encounter in the early morning that led me to be pregnant nine months ago. I couldn't tell if I enjoyed more the night I got pregnant or the night that ultimately hastened my delivery. I think I'll go with the latter. Pregnancy hormones multiplied by 100 all the feelings. It was like being transported to another reality, living something totally new.

If he had asked me to have more babies at that moment, I would have said yes without hesitation. Now that I'm in the middle of labor and the pain is excruciating, I'm not so sure I was going to say yes to another pregnancy. But I don't want to fool anyone, it will be very hard for me to say no to this man. He will decide if he wants us to be a large family.

Although it looked like the second child was coming quickly, he is dragging his feet. He doesn't seem to want to move forward, so the pain is being terrible. “Trevor, I can't take it anymore, I'm not going to be able to,” I tell him sobbing from the pain and anguish. He caresses my face and encourages me to keep going, but my strength is getting weaker and weaker. I see his face and I know he is thinking of some way to speed up the delivery.

Trevor kissed me on the mouth, and then took advantage of the fact that I still had an erect penis to give me a blowjob. I rolled my eyes as my hands roamed my belly. I cum like I never had before, and everything started up again. “I read that this could help speed it up even more,” he told me washing his mouth with another of his T-shirts. “Ready to give birth a second time?” he asked, grabbing my hand again and placing the other on my belly, already smaller than before.

It took me five minutes to deliver Henry, our second child. Henry looked more like me. Trevor wrapped him in one more t-shirt, good thing this man packs a lot of clothes, and handed me both little ones to breastfeed. Already lying down and with both babies resting on my still swollen belly I breastfed them.

Trevor and I burst into tears looking at each other. We kissed. It was the happiest moment of my life. We had created life together, my boyfriend and me. Ron and Henry were the fruit of our love, two beautiful babies drinking from my breasts.

“Thank you Trevor for giving me the greatest gift of my life,” I said before kissing the father of my children again. “Anytime you want to repeat... I want a big family together with you, my love,” he said before kissing me again. “Let's wait a little while for me to recover and the little ones to grow up a bit to give them more little brothers, but we are in this together, we are going to build a huge and precious family together”, I told him. We stood hugging the four of us together, our first family moment together. The happiest moment of my life, even if it was in the back of a car, freezing cold outside and in the middle of a traffic jam. All the excitement of giving birth had made me forget about the nerves of being reunited with my family.

A new car horn brought us out of the dream we were living. Trevor sat up, sat in the driver's seat and started up again. “Do you want us to go ahead with the plan and go to your parents' house or would you rather go to the hospital to get looked at?” he asked me. “Let's go on, I'm feeling fine, and it's already Christmas Eve. I want to introduce my three boys to my parents. Besides, my mother is a doctor, if I need attention no one better than her”, I added without even looking at him, I only had eyes for little Ron and Henry.

It took about twenty more minutes to get to my parents' house. By then the two little ones were asleep and I had spruced up my appearance a bit. Trevor helped me out of the car and we both picked up one of the little ones in our arms. “Ready?”, Trevor asked me. I nodded, and grabbed his hand as the four of us headed home together. I was still walking sore and slowly, having just finished giving birth to two huge twins half an hour ago.

We rang the doorbell and my parents and my sister opened the door at the same time. My mother excitedly ran to hug us both and shower us with kisses. My father froze, but he looked thrilled to see us and greeted Trevor warmly, welcoming him to the family.

It was my sister who noticed the detail that Trevor and I were carrying with us in our arms. “When did this happen?”, she asked, breaking the dream my parents were living. When they noticed they both put their hands to their mouths in surprise and tears of emotion welled up in their eyes. “Half an hour ago, I gave birth in the car. This is Ron and Henry. Dad, Mom, congratulations, you're grandparents.” They ran to grab the little ones.

My mother was so excited, she was a whirlwind of words. She immediately started making plans to buy baby clothes, she was going to give her a crib, lots of toys and clothes. She immediately embraced her role as grandmother. My father, who has always been more serious, left little Henry to my little sister, and hugged Trevor and me at the same time. “Thank you for making me a grandfather. When you came out I thought I would never live this down. I had already made up my mind that I wouldn't have grandchildren from you”, he was crying with emotion like I had never seen him before.

“This is the best gift we could have this Christmas, my son. Santa Claus has come early to our home”, said mom and dad at the same time. My sister, who has always had great timing, capped off the moment with a joke. “With that belly of yours, little brother, you definitely look like Santa Claus”, she winked at me, and we all burst out laughing.

I took my hands to my rounded swollen belly that was still showing and that I had forgotten about a bit since I gave birth to Henry. This curve left no doubt that I had been pregnant, it even looked like I was about five months pregnant. When Trevor saw me bring my hands to my belly he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. He loves seeing me like this, and I'm starting to think I don't look so bad with this pregnant look. After all this is the price to pay for being as happy as I am right now. A price I'm happy to pay, and hopefully I'll have to pay it again soon.

I didn't believe in the Christmas spirit, but this year it has come into my family stronger than ever.