#very 'I brought you books for Christmas' aunt/cousin

[softquietsteadylove]

Could you do little thing in the Actors AU where Sprite and her salad have had enough… but there is an actual salad involved

Why did she agree to this lunch, Sprite had to wonder.

Oh, because she wanted to see their cousin Sersi, of course. She was in town for discussions of a few possible upcoming projects she was considering. And she wanted the chance to get together with Sprite and Thena.

And somehow Gil ended up coming too.

Of course, he had tried to insist politely that he didn't want to interrupt their time visiting with their cousin as a stranger. But he and Thena had made quite a habit of having lunch together.

Ultimately, it was Sersi who insisted that he join them.

"You should'a seen her," Gil chuckled, nudging Thena next to him as he cut his steak. "Really told him off for it."

"I did not," Thena shook her head with a smile, picking a piece of chicken out of her salad much more discreetly.

"Okay, you didn't curse him out or anything," Gil conceded quickly, "but for you to snap at anyone during an interview is pretty rare."

Except in instances that involved Gil, Sprite kept to herself. She had the same salad Thena had, while Sersi had opted for one with mandarin in it. She looked at her cousin, who gave her a wink.

Sersi had heard all about Thena's chemistry with her co-star--had seen for herself, in a few of their interviews together. And having further evidence from Sprite as a witness was more than enough to have her interest piqued.

"I think he's allowed a few too many liberties because he's young," Thena murmured, flicking another crouton from her salad cleanly onto Gil's plate.

Gil happily snapped up the crouton and popped it into his mouth. "I think he's just jealous I got to sit next to you."

"Yes, jealous," Sersi mused aloud, making the other actors' heads snap over to her. She smiled at her cousin with a certain glint in her eye. "I daresay you're onto something, Gil."

Gil swiped at his mouth with his napkin, "what was it like working with him on that thriller?"

"Admittedly, I didn't actually have many scenes with him, so our schedules were quite separated from one another," Sersi set down her fork, also dabbing at her lips. "Although when we did work together, he usually just asked me about you."

"Me?" Thena asked, while Gil just rolled his eyes (as did Sprite).

"Yes of course you, Thena," Sersi voiced what Sprite was thinking, although with a pleasant smile to go along with it. "He found out somewhere that we're related and made it his mission to make it quite known to me how much he fancies you."

"Fancy makes it sound kinda nice," Gil scoffed aloud at the subject, sharply contrasting how pleasant he had been acting with Eros in their interview together not long ago. "I think the punk just has a crush on her and doesn't know how to stay in his lane."

"Yeah!" Sprite put in, raising her hand for a high five, which Gil delivered with a firm but appropriate amount of strength put into it.

"Gil, don't encourage her," Thena gave him a look, tucking back her hair to take one of the last few bites of her lunch.

"I don't need encouragement."

"No, you certainly don't," Thena glared at her sister, who grinned back at her with all the menace she had to offer. Thena sighed, setting down her fork. "That was quite nice."

"Liked it?" Gil smiled at her eagerly. She nodded and he turned in his seat, "I discovered this place when I first got to LA. The owner was all excited, asked for my picture and everything."

Indeed, there was a picture of the owner and Gilgamesh shaking hands behind the front counter.

"I thought it was kinda silly," Gil admitted sheepishly, "since I'm sure there are big celebrities in here all the time."

"You are a big celebrity," Thena laughed in a velvety tone, nudging his arm with the heel of her palm. "And perhaps he's a fan of your action work."

"Either way, it's always nice and quiet whenever I've been in-"

Thena's eyes caught Gil's hand drifting to the inside pocket of his blazer, "don't even think about it."

"Thena-"

"No," she pulled her napkin off her lap and tossed it over her plate, "I'm paying."

"Really, it was nice of you to invite me," Gil argued, leaning forward in his chair as he tried to convince her of his position, "and I know the owner--it just makes sense."

"I'm paying," she corrected, leaning even closer with a smirk, "for my cousin, and my sister, and my co-star."

"You know, some guys find it emasculating to be paid for."

"You're not that insecure."

"No, but still!"

Sprite looked at Sersi, who was just letting this happen--right in front of their salads! They were going on and on, and getting closer and closer. And as much as she wanted her sister to actually deal with her feelings and maybe have a real conversation about them, that didn't mean she wanted to see them flirting like this in front of her. And she swore to all that was holy, if she ever had to see them have some big, passionate make-out in front of her-

"Thena, really," Gil laughed, but Thena was physically trying to pull his wallet out of his hand, tugging at the lapel of his jacket as he stretched it out behind him and out of her reach.

"Oh my god, both of you!" Sprite burst, shaking her head at the gross idiots and their cutesy play-fighting. "Go up and split it or whatever, just stop doing whatever this is."

"Sprite!" Thena hissed at her, although her hands did release Gilgamesh and snap back to her lap, prim and proper. She had plenty more to say but as soon as she let go of him, Gil shot up out of his seat to rush to the counter. "No!"

Sprite shook her head as the two continued to wrestle with each other jokingly all the way to the front register. She poked at her salad, having eaten all her chicken and bacon bits and croutons and now left with the 'salad' part. "Unbelievable."

"Aren't they always like this?" Sersi asked with a grin as she offered Sprite half the chicken from her plate, "in your own words?"

"Yeah, I guess," she sighed, happily accepting Sersi's offering to her. "But, I dunno, maybe it's less embarrassing when we're all hanging out at Gil's and not in public."

Sersi simply smiled, though, watching as her cousin laughed with the man beside her. He even wrapped an arm around her, picking her up off the ground so he could state that he would be paying the bill for them all.

Sersi had left her card with the host as soon as they had arrived to pay, of course. But neither Thena nor Gilgamesh had noticed because they were too busy flirting for all the world to see.

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking - Chapter Fourteen

Summary: Dieter and Emily spend Thanksgiving break together.

Rating: PG-13 (mention of sex but no real smut)

Word count: 3800

Notes: San Ysidro Ranch is a real place but I’ve never been there. I’ve also never had a massage or a sound bath, but I hope I wrote about both experiences competently. Also, I have family members who are Mormon and any opinions expressed about that religion are my own.

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites @weho2kcmo

“Thank you for the invitation, Aunt Helen, but I can’t make it.”

”You know you’re always welcome, Emily. And I understand it’s a long drive to make by yourself, and flying is expensive, but maybe that rich boyfriend of yours could lend you the money. We’d love to see you.”

I was glad it was a voice call and not FaceTime, because I’m sure I grimaced. I’d made the trek to Utah to spend Thanksgiving with Aunt Helen and her family once and that had been enough for me. She was my mom’s sister, my only living relative on either side of the family, but she was … well, I’ll just come out and say it. Mormon.

At the age of twenty, Aunt Helen had opened the door to a pair of missionaries and fell hook line and sinker for the message they brought. It wasn’t a bad thing, it was just awkward for someone raised in a very secular family to suddenly be so vehemently religious. My grandma once said that no one is as fervent as a convert, and she was right. 

Aunt Helen joined the church and within a year she was married to a young man who’d recently graduated from BYU and had a job lined up in Salt Lake City. My mom had confessed that she was glad that Helen and Jeremiah lived so far away. So was I. Every phone call or email from her invariably included some sort of remark about my “lifestyle,” which I understood to mean “being unmarried and childless after the age of thirty and having sex with my boyfriend.” 

“I’d love to see you, too,” I replied, “but Dieter’s booked us a cottage at a resort in Santa Barbara for Thanksgiving week. He has to start a new project soon and we want to have a little getaway before he has to leave town.”

Aunt Helen sniffed. “Doesn’t he have family to spend the holiday with?” Family was very important to Aunt Helen.

“He’s going to his brother’s for Christmas, and he and his dad aren’t on good terms right now,” I explained. “So we’re spending Thanksgiving together, just the two of us.”

”Well, if you think that’s best, but remember, you are always welcome here. Maybe you could come for Christmas, since Dieter will be out of town?”

”We’ll see,” I said. There was no way in hell I was going to her house for Christmas. 

”Give my love to Uncle Jeremiah and all the cousins.”

I ended the call and heaved a sigh of relief. I loved her, I really did, but only in small doses. 

***************************************************

The drive up to Santa Barbara was a bit hectic, as all drives out of the L.A. area are, but once we got to the San Ysidro Ranch it was like we were in another world. It was in the foothills overlooking Montecito. The grounds were lush with plants and the cottages were beautiful, built in Craftsman style. Ours had a private patio with a hot tub, a fireplace, and a king size canopy bed, with exposed wooden beams ceilings. I was in love.

”I want to live here,” I told Dieter as we explored the little cottage. “This place is absolutely amazing. Look at that view!” The front terrace faced west, offering a panorama to the Pacific Ocean in the distance. 

“And it’s all ours for a week,” Dieter said, sliding his arms around me from behind. “Great food, great views, great company and privacy.” The last month or so had been rough. Word had leaked out about his brief stay in rehab and that, combined with a new movie project starting soon, had brought the paparazzi out in force. They followed him all over town, and photos of him had popped up all over the internet. There were even photos of the two of us doing mundane things like shopping at CVS and Trader Joe’s. Dieter always shrugged it off, but I knew that deep down it bothered him, mostly because he didn’t think I should have to deal with the paps.

”Yeah, that hot tub looks incredible,” I said, rolling my shoulders to loosen some of the kinks. A week at work combined with the long drive had tightened up my muscles. 

“Maybe we can skinny dip,” Dieter said into my ear.

”After it gets dark,” I said. “I know it’s private but I don’t think I could do that in daylight.”

He chuckled. “Deal. And after we soak awhile, I’ll make sure you release all your tension.” 

*******************************************************

After dinner at the resort’s restaurant (where Dieter had had ordered and devoured an order of oysters, much to my dismay — I still didn’t like them and they reminded me too much of the night I met Jonathan) we wandered back to our cottage in the dark. I used the bathroom and got undressed, slipping on a bathrobe before I stepped outside onto the patio. Dieter was already in the hot tub, his own robe draped haphazardly over the lounge chair.

”You’d better not pee in there,” I teased as I dropped my own robe onto the chair and stepped into the tub. The cool November air caused goosebumps on my skin and I ducked quickly into the warm water.

”I went at the restaurant before we left,” he reminded me. “Now get over here.” He motioned for me to slide closer on the little bench that ringed the tub. I settled against his side and he wrapped his arm around me. We leaned back, letting the jets of hot water soothe us. I felt the knots in my muscles relax.

”Wanna make out?” Dieter asked after several minutes.

”Not just yet,” I said. “I’m enjoying the water.”

”Okay,” he said comfortably. “I want you nice and supple when we get into bed.”

Ever since he’d gotten out of rehab, things had been easier between us. It was hard to put my finger on what had changed, but we just seemed more settled, less anxious about things. We knew that we wanted each other for who we were, warts and all. 

Soon enough, we started kissing, and it wasn’t long before we were climbing out of the water and pulling on our robes, eager to get inside out of the chill and into bed. We tumbled into the fine Italian linens and made love. Dieter was true to his promise to help me release all my tension, and I did the same for him. Sex with Dieter was easy. He never made me feel like I was anything other than the most desirable woman in the world. He always asked permission before he did anything that differed from our usual routine, even if we’d done it before. He insisted on using protection. And he always made sure I was satisfied before he’d let himself finish. He was the very definition of an unselfish lover.

”I don’t deserve you,” I told him when we were cuddling afterward. He was a champion snuggler, clinging to me like a baby sloth clings to its mother, enveloping me in his warmth. 

“You’ve got that backwards,” he mumbled, already half asleep. 

“Okay, we’ll split the difference. We deserve each other.”

”Damn right.” He nuzzled against my neck and promptly started snoring. 

******************************************************************

The next morning, we slept in, walked down to the restaurant for breakfast and then strolled through the botanical gardens on our way back to the cottage. We spent a lazy day reading and watching movies, punctuated by a few make out sessions. The day was warm enough that we left the windows open so we could enjoy the breeze off the ocean. 

At one point, Dieter dozed off on the couch, his book open against his chest, his glasses sliding down his nose. I got a sudden flash of his older self, hair and beard gone silver, taking a nap in our own little cottage somewhere, after he’d re-established his career and gotten to the point where he could pick and choose his roles. I wanted to grow old with him. I wanted this to last forever.

Then he snorted himself awake, mumbled “Fuck” under his breath and was his middle-aged self again, slightly grumpy at being caught napping during the day. “This place is too quiet,” he complained. “Made me fall asleep.”

”It’s comfortable,” I said. “I like it.” He lifted his arm and I slid underneath to nestle against his side. He was warm and solid and I laid my head on his chest. “Just like you.”

“Are you saying you like me, or that I’m comfortable?”

”Both.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take it. There are worse things to be called than comfortable, although it wounds my masculine pride.”

“What would you prefer?”

”Hot. Irresistible. Manly. Ripped.” It was my turn to snort. “What?”

”You are hot and irresistible and definitely manly, but ripped you are not.” I poked his belly, which had just enough squish to it. “And I like you that way. I want a tummy I can relax on, not one that’s hard as a rock. Six pack abs are highly overrated.”

”I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Because I think those days are over.” He frowned down at his stomach. “The muscles are still in there somewhere, but the pudge is slowly taking over.”

”I like the pudge,” I said. “It makes you a real person. Real men have pudge. That should be your new slogan.”

”Dieter Bravo, the man with the pudge. I like that. I could be the new spokesman for Pillsbury.” I poked his belly again and he did the doughboy laugh. He was a huge dork, but he was my dork.

*****************************************************************

We hung around the resort for a couple of days, but then Dieter decided he wanted Mexican food, so we drove down to Santa Barbara for a day. We visited the art museum and then found a little hole in the wall Mexican place. I was content with a couple of tacos and a side of rice and beans, but Dieter ordered something called a Garbage Burrito, which was enormous and contained a little bit of everything, from beans to sour cream to cabbage to shredded beef to three kinds of salsa. 

“You’re going to be sorry,” I told him after he took the final bite. 

He patted his stomach. “Not sorry, just not hungry for about three days,” he said. “You’re on your own for dinner, Miss I-Only-Want-Two-Tacos.”

”You’re forgetting we have a couples massage booked at five,” I reminded him. “You’re gonna have to lay on that full tummy for an hour while they work on your back.”

He stifled a little burp and shrugged. “By that time, my amazing metabolism will have converted most of it to muscle,” he said.

“More like pudge,” I replied. It was our new inside joke. I had started calling him Pudgy Bear.

We left the restaurant and almost immediately were approached by a man who asked if he could get a selfie with Dieter. “I’ve seen all the Cliff Beasts movies,” he explained, “and I’ve gotten photos with three of the cast members so far.”

Dieter agreed. “Why don’t you take the photo?,” he asked me. The man beamed and smoothed down the front of his Hawaiian shirt before handing me his phone. I gave Dieter a quick glance. He had a salsa stain on his previously pristine white t-shirt. I tugged his cardigan into place so that it hid the stain.

”Stop it,” Dieter said, swatting at my hand.

”You have food on your shirt, honey,” I told him, adjusting the cardigan just a bit more. “You don’t want to ruin his photo.”

Dieter looked down and made a face. “Shit, you’re right.”

The guy laughed. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s nice to know that celebrities are real people.”

I snapped three photos, to give him a choice of which one was best, then handed the phone back. “Thanks, man,” he said, swiping through the photos. “Is it okay if I post these on my Insta?”

“Sure,” Dieter said, “and thanks for asking. Most people don’t.” He shook the guy’s hand and sent him on his way grinning from ear to ear. 

**************************************************************

We drove around a bit on our way back to the resort, taking in the sights, but made it back in plenty of time for Dieter to change into a clean t-shirt before our massage. 

“I don’t know why I have to change,” he grumbled. “I’m just gonna take it off when we get there. They do these things naked, you know.”

”You are not showing up in dirty clothes, even if you are going to get undressed,” I said. “It’s common courtesy.”

”But I’m not a common person,” Dieter said as he stripped off the dirty shirt. I tossed him a clean one from the dresser. 

“You are definitely uncommon,” I agreed, running my eyes over his bare torso. Even with that bit of pudge he was an impressive sight.

Dieter preened. “I’m one of a kind.”

”The one, the only … Dieter Bravo!”

He posed like Superman, which would have made more of an impact if he hadn’t also been pooching out his stomach. He looked more like Jack Black in Nacho Libre than a superhero.

”Put your shirt on, goofball,” I told him. “We’ll be late.”

As Dieter predicted, almost as soon as we arrived for our appointment, the receptionist ushered us into the changing rooms, where we stripped down and put on the plush robes embroidered with the resort logo. 

“Told you,” Dieter whispered as we were escorted to the massage room.

Soft music was playing and the lights were dimmed. An essential oil diffuser filled the room with the scent of lavender. I felt my heart rate drop already. 

“Welcome. I’m Inge and this is Lance. We’ll be your massage therapists today.” Inge was tall and blonde, with just a trace of a Nordic accent. Lance was also tall, but with jet black hair. 

“I think we might have wandered into a porno shoot,” Dieter whispered to me. I shushed him, but he wasn’t wrong. Seriously, who hires a massage therapist named Lance?

They busied themselves with a tray of oils and heated rocks and other massage paraphernalia while we disrobed and laid down on the massage tables, pulling the sheets over ourselves. Dieter, of course, only pulled his up enough to cover his ass, while I made sure mine was up to my shoulders. 

It turned out Lance was the strong, silent type, who got right to work on Dieter’s upper back. Inge kept up a gentle, soothing patter as she kneaded my muscles. “We are trying to achieve total relaxation,” she intoned. “We will work on any tight spots you may have, so that when you leave you will be feeling completely loose and flexible.”

I thought I heard Dieter snicker a bit, but with his head buried in the face cut out, it was hard to tell. 

“Listen to the music and let your body and mind relax,” Inge said. “Inhale the soothing scent of lavender and exhale all your negative energy.”

I could have dozed off, if not for Inge digging into the knots in my shoulders. 

“Surrender to the rhythm of the music and our hands. Take in the good and release the bad.”

Brrr-ppp! Dieter farted loudly.

”Sorry,” he mumbled.

”No worries, man,” Lance said. “It happens.” He grunted as he bore down on Dieter’s back again.

Pppp-rrrr-ppp!

”I told you not to eat that huge burrito for lunch,” I said. And just about then the scent of lavender was overwhelmed by something decidedly less floral and we realized why it was called a garbage burrito.

”Maybe I’ll lay off the lower back,” Lance said, stifling a laugh.

”Yeah, might be a good idea,” Dieter said, giggling.

”I’m just going to turn up the diffuser,” Inge said, and that was when I lost it. I laughed until tears were streaming down my face.

”Only you could turn a romantic couples massage into a fart fest,” I told Dieter once I could talk.

”It’s that damn burrito,” he whined. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

Inge and Lance managed to maintain their professional demeanor, but Dieter and I broke out in giggles multiple times during the massage. We might not have been completely and utterly relaxed when we emerged, but we were certainly feeling a lot lighter … in more ways than one.

****************************************************

On Thanksgiving Day there was a special turkey dinner at seven for all the guests. We spent a relaxing morning in the cottage. We watched the parade on TV (turns out Dieter had to watch the Macy’s parade every year — he loved the balloons) and after a light lunch we wandered over to partake in a sound bath.

”I’ve done these before,” Dieter said. “It’s amazing. Like, life changing type amazing. It’s like the best drug ever, but totally safe and natural.”

I wasn’t so sure that listening to singing bowls and chimes would be quite that earth shattering, but I was open to the experience. I knew that Dieter was less skeptical about things than I was but I didn’t see any harm in him believing in the power of crystals and stuff like that. Although I was pretty sure his aversion to AirPods wasn’t because he thought the wireless connection messed with his brain waves as he claimed, but because he had lost too many pairs and needed a “cool” excuse for his old-school wired earbuds.

The woman hosting the sound bath wore loose linen clothing which made her look like a Jedi knight, but she also had a severe pixie cut and angled eyebrows that made her look a bit Vulcan. I dubbed her the Logical Jedi in my mind, but didn’t dre say anything to Dieter. After the massage experience, I didn’t want to risk setting off another round of giggles.

”Welcome. I’m Diana and I’ll be facilitating your sound bath experience today. Please, lie down on the mats and make yourselves comfortable. If you have any previous yoga experience, assume the Savasana or corpse pose. For those of you who have not practiced yoga, this is simply lying on your back, with your arms out to your sides.”

While we settled, Diana walked around the room. “You will be bathing in sound today. You don’t need to do anything but keep your heart and mind open to receive the healing vibrations. I do ask that because today is Thanksgiving, you keep gratitude foremost in your mind. Think about all the things in your life, big and small, that you are thankful for. And let the sound guide you to inner peace.”

I closed my eyes, feeling a bit silly. I’d never been good at meditation; my mind darted in a million different directions as soon as I didn’t have something to focus on. Dieter told me you just had to empty your head and focus on your breath, but it was hard for me. 

A chime rang and then the hum of a singing bowl filled the room. It was monotonous at first, but after a bit I could hear subtle variations in the tone as the sound waves vibrated the air. It was soothing. I started thinking about what I was thankful for.

Dieter, first of all. Meeting him had brought me so many new experiences, and a depth of joy I’d never known I was capable of. My job. A roof over my head. My health. Those were the big ones, and almost too easy to put on my list. Everyone was grateful for things like that. Then I started thinking about the smaller things: the smell right before it starts to rain, the excitement of opening a box of new books at work, the fierce glow of California poppies in the sun every spring. 

I felt Dieter’s fingertips brush against mine and I smiled. He was thinking about me, too. We lay side by side, just barely touching, but fully connected as the song of the universe swept through us. I get it, Deet, I thought silently. I get it.

*******************************************************************************

Saturday morning came all too fast. As I packed our bags (Dieter offered to pack his, but his idea of packing was just shoving everything inside and squashing it until the bag would zip) I felt the familiar melancholy of the end of a work break. I knew I was lucky to have a job that gave me a week off at Thanksgiving, two weeks at Christmas and another week in the spring, not to mention a healthy dollop of three-day weekends and a long summer break, but it was always hard for me to switch gears back into work mode after being off for more than a few days. 

“I don’t want to go back to work on Monday,” I groused.

”Then don’t,” Dieter said. “Quit. Move in with me. Find something else closer to my house. Or take some time off. Follow your passion.”

I sighed. “We’ve had this discussion before, Deet. It’s just too early on. I can’t take that leap yet.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I know, but a man’s gotta try. And I know how you feel.” He stretched, his joints cracking. “I’m due on set in five days and I know once I get there and get into it I’ll love it but right now all I can think about is packing and making the flight and meeting the cast and crew and hoping there aren’t too many assholes to deal with. And missing you.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my neck. 

“I’ll miss you, too,” I said, leaning into his embrace. “But we’ll talk every night. And maybe you can sneak home for a weekend or something.”

”I was thinking … I’m going to Freddy’s for Christmas. Why don’t you join me? I won’t get enough time off to make it to Vermont and California but I‘m sure he and Laila won’t mind.”

”I don’t want to impose,” I said, although the idea of having a ready excuse to not go to Aunt Helen’s — not to mention the chance to spend some face to face time with Dieter — had me excited.

”Freddy wants to meet you,” Dieter said. “And I want you to meet him. Meet my family.”

My excitement shifted into anxiety. Meeting the family was a big step. “Only if he and his wife don’t mind,” I said carefully. 

“I’ll ask him next time I talk to him. And I can tell you right now the answer will be yes.”

[redheadspark]

sooo i had a little idea in mind- you can def ignore this if you want 😅 a fic with oliver wood and reader (they've been together for a year) where she meets his parents for the first time, ollie bringing reader to a christmas party at his family's and reader fitting in with his fam so easily (parents keep embarrassing him- showing childhood photos) and reader fitting in with his fam so easily and him being so smitten 🥺 ajdkandjs thank you for your time 💕 you're one of the very few writers who still write for my fave scottish boy and every time you do my heart literally soars

A/N: This is BEYOND amazing! I HAD to write this before I leave for Oregon in two days, but I love this! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Knew

Summary: After having you visit for Christmas, Oliver finds himself falling head over heels.

Warnings: Just some fluff :)

“Let’s clear these plates and get ready for presents, shall we?”

“Oh, let me help Mrs. Wood!”

“Darling girl, you must call me Amelia! And certainly not, you’re a guest in my home!  Go on, grab a seat in the armchair before my husband does,”

“Why thank you, Amelia,”

Oliver was poking his head around the corner into the kitchen, seeing you moving to get up from the chair as his mother cleared the plates with a flick of her wand. The plates moved with ease, you watching with a hint of amazement since Oliver’s mother made it look so easy.  The soft garland that was glistening along the kitchen countertops brought warmth and the familiar holiday cheer that Oliver could only experience when he was home for Christmas.

But this Christmas was very different: You came along with him.

Oliver already introduced you to his parents at Platform 9 & 3/4 last year, getting your bags on the train and ready for the school year.  Oliver ran over to you to give you a massive hug, the pair of you writing letter and sending owls to one another throughout the summer holiday.  They were wondering who you were and why their son was so smitten, most of his time on summer holiday was devoted to racing on his broomstick around the hillside near their home and drawing up new Quidditch tactics for the Gryffindor team.  

Yet that summer Oliver was awaiting for every letter that was sent from you by your personal little barn owl, his face lighting up with joy as you would tell him about your summer and where you ventured to with your own parents.  That morning on the platform, Oliver’s mother and father were both shocked and happy to see you and Oliver hugging fiercely in your reunion.  It was safe to say that you two were a couple in their eyes, and his mother insisted having you come over for the Christmas Holidays for a few days.

Oliver was worried, thinking you wouldn’t want to go.  But you shocked him by saying yes, reading over the owl sent by his mother during Thanksgiving and you agreed very quickly.  So now Oliver was a bit petrified in having you in his home, thinking of the worst and wondering if you were going to see him in a new light.

But as soon as you walked into the little home, you were greeted so warmly by Oliver’s parents, and all those fears in Oliver’s mind were gone in a flash.

You were only going to stay one night before you had to go back home with your own family, though you didn’t mind it at all since some of Oliver’s cousins and relatives were over for the dinner and present opening.  His cousins were all ages, some very little and barely walking and some were around his age, even two of them were already married with their own kids. The little house was bustling with plenty of screeching from the kids and gossiping from the adults, but you loved all of it.  All of his relatives were nothing but kind to you, asking all the deep dark secrets of Oliver since they knew you would tell.  Though at one moment Oliver had to steer you away from sitting with your mother and aunt when they took out a baby picture book of Oliver.

“You don’t need to see any of that!”

“Oliver, I doubt those pictures are explicit,”

“You don’t know my mum and da when they have a camera in their hands!”

The dinner was delicious, Oliver’s mother knew how to make the best kind of meal that was both hearty and yet sensational to eat.  Every bite was a delight for you, you consistently telling her that the food was amazing as Oliver’s mom merely grinned.

“Aye, finally there is someone who likes me cooking,”

“Mum!”

“Just sayin’, Oli,”

Even throughout the meal, you were engrossed in the conversations that were presented to you by his relatives.  Of course, they wanted to know all about you since you were Oliver’s girlfriend, yet you never minded since it never felt stressful or pushed.  And when the topic of Quidditch came up at the table, the entire family was enthuatsic about the sport.  You weren’t surprised, given that Oliver was a natural player and he learned how to fly when he was still a toddler. HIs entire family played when they went to Hogwarts.  

“So, how does Oliver here handle himself in a Quidditch match,”

“Da, please don’t ask that—“

“He’s real good, Mr. Wood.  Actually, he can outfly some of the other chasers and beaters on both the Slytherin and Hufflepuff squad, which I know doesn’t dwell well with Slytherin house,”

A pause was at the table, maybe his family was not expecting you to reply so smoothly and talk Quidditch efficiently.  His father grinned at you, one of those cocky grins that you know Oliver inherited. 

“Good, never liked that lot even when I attended back when I was a youngin’,” his da boasted.

“Which was what, half a century ago, da?”

“Easy there, Oliver,”

Now that the table was cleared and your mother enchanted the sink to wash the dishes that were under the bubbles, she sat down at the kitchen table with ease while Oliver snuck into the kitchen to sit across from her.

“How are ya, mum?  Can I help ya?” Oliver asked his mother, though she tutted and shook her head.

“You’re fine, m’darlin’.  I wanna talk to ya for a moment before we join the other’s for presents,” She explained, Oliver watching her with a hint of worry and uncertainty as his mother eyed him with the warmth in her eyes and her hands folded in front of her on the table.

“I think she is quite lovely,” She explained, mentioning you as Oliver perked up a bit, “And that fact that she can put up with this lot with a smile on her face says a bunch, Oli,”

“I like her too,” Oliver explained to his mother, whom was softly smiling from seeing the warmth on his face and the small glimmer in his brown eyes, “She really makes me happy, supports me and my flyin’, and…I don’t know mum she’s…she’s amazin’.”

“I can tell she means the world to you,” His mother hummed at him in agreement, “And I think you should hold onto her as tight as you can.  Love is a precious thing to have, and it can be easy to loose in a moment,”

Oliver drank in what she told him, hearing how genuine she was with the notion of love.  Oliver saw it in his parents and how they loved each other after so many years together, they were a great example of being in love and how to handle love.  And as he thought about it more, he thought of you in his mind and how it was beyond perfect.  He thought of the times you two sat together in Hogsmead, swapping candies together and seeing if the others liked it.  He thought of the rainy Quidditch matches, you showing up to each one of those matches with Gryffindor colors and cheering him on.  He even thought of you consoling him when had rough days, holding his hands in yours and giving him words of encouragement.  

When he thought of love, he thought of you.

“I’ll try, mum,” He could only reply to his mother, whom kept her smile on her face as Oliver’s father called out from the living room.

“Come on, you two!  We got presents to open!”

Oliver and his mother hopped up from their spots and walked over to the living room, seeing the cluster of cousins sitting near the small tree and itching to open the presents that were ready and waiting.  Oliver eyes went to you, who was sitting on a spot in the loveseat and was watching your family members chat together.  Your eyes went to Oliver, whom was simply watching you in his home and thought you looked like you belonged there.  No mater the stress of having you over for only one night, or thinking that the worst kind of conversations would come out, it was all perfect and it worked out smoothly. 

You both locked eyes and Oliver smiled, his cheeks warmed up instantly.  He knew right then and there: he was in love. 

Oliver would propose to you a few months later, right after graduating Hogwarts together, and you both would be married in his backyard under the blossoming trees.    

The End.

Tagged: @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[mrsbakashi]

here i am once again writing holiday-themed stuff because it's one of my favorite times of the year and i just had these scenarios in my head during christmas eve, so why not write it? hope you enjoy it!

🎄 BRINGING HIM HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS - KAKASHI HEADCANONS 💝

summary: you bring your boyfriend home for the first time during christmas eve and your family fall in love with him.

a/n: this is 100% based on my family/friend's family so it's kinda personal, i guess, but i hope someone else also identifies with it :)

⚠️ cw: christmas, family (not perfect), chubby reader, hard-to-deal-with mother, low-key fatphobia

🎁 it's the first time kakashi is meeting your family, and he's very nervous about it, tho he tries to play it cool. he knew it was important to you, that your family was not perfect, but that you adored them, so he wanted to cause a good impression, he wanted them to like him - specially your grandmother.

🎁 at first when you arrive he feels a little awkward, shy and quiet, but as the night goes by, he starts to feel more comfortable and at ease.

🎁 your grandma falls in love with him the second she sets her eyes on him - he brought her flowers, but she was already in love before that. she's in awe of everything he says or do. she starts to refer to him as "prince charming", which is exactly how she refers to your grandfather, even after he passed away. that's a very good sign, and it makes you really happy.

🎁 at first your mother is shocked at how handsome he is, and for a while that's all she can focus on - part of her wonders how a man like him ended up with a girl like you, but she tries to not let it show (it's not that she thinks you don't deserve to be happy, she loves you, in her own way, but she does, it's just that she's very hard on you, specially because of your weight because she was bullied into losing weight by her husband, so she unconsciously believes that big people are not worthy of love).

🎁 kakashi rarely leaves your side, always keeps an arm around you - except when you go help your mother setting the table and finish the food.

🎁 when you're busy he sits and talks with your cousins, that are like your little brothers and want to know him and see if he's worthy of you, and not just a player - they end up thinking he's amazing. i mean, he's charming, handsome, funny, charisma king, it's impossible not to love him.

🎁 your family has secret santa every single year, and it's always incredibly fun, funny and messed up. you asked him to join this year, but because it was his first christmas there, he wanted to let everyone feel more comfortable with him before taking part in your traditions. you get a self help book from your aunt because she thinks you could really use it - it's sweet in a strange way.

🎁 you sing on the karaoke, dance a little to the loud noisy music your sister chose (the ones that remind you of your childhood make you scream like crazy with her) and play every stupid game your mom comes up with to make everyone interact more - AND YOU WIN! not all of them, but like, most of them, and it's all kakashi's fault because he's amazing at everything.

🎁 you, your aunts and your mom try to make him drink more, but all he has is a glass of wine.

🎁 of course your mom ends up making a horrible comment about how big you are, and that your dress didn't fit well and that you should lose weight, take care of yourself, specially now that you had a handsome boyfriend - kakashi hears when she's talking to you, and he doesn't want to be rude, so he shows up hugging you and saying he thinks you look perfect.

🎁 towards the end of the night when everybody's already half drunk your aunt approaches you and says something about how handsome kakashi is, and how happy she is for you, because you look visibly light, happier and better. it's really sweet.

🎁 your mother makes sure kakashi are at least a little of everything and invites over for the weekend. you tell her you have other plans, she ignores you and says she'd love if he could make it.

🎁 on the way home you talk about the night, the food and your family and he tells you he loved everyone, specially your grandmother and your cousins. and he really did. because he didn't have any family anymore, he had forgotten how crazy and lovely it can be, and today specially he felt like he belonged somewhere - to you and your family. now they were like his family too, with their flaws and everything, they made him feel part of them. and that made his heart warm.

kakashi's taglist: @smutteedreams @justmyownreality @nightingaleflow @allyallygator @thetimelesschild @jyotsna-d @rocknrollsoul76 @crimsonxuchiha @hellogeckofriend-blog

fill this out to be part of my taglist :)

[rainbowjay20]

Image Heavy after Cut

Sandi with her presents. First, her sweater/pjs are new. Purple fleece, velour, whatever they are, they are soft and fluffy, just like Sandi likes them.

The squishmellow pillow thing came from the Dollar Store, and since she won't be winning any steak eating contests any time soon(very few teeth and all recently she's 13), most toys are not comfortable for her to carry around. She kind of looked at it like, "Really, Mom? Have I no dignity?" However, when I took it upstairs for her to sleep as a pillow where her head falls off the side of her bead, she stayed on it and liked it. I figured she would. She's been laying on my ancient(like old enough to drink) tempurpedic bed. She's actually slept on the bed a few times now that she can get down safely. She had steps before, but they weren't quite high enough.

The second requires more of a story. I bought her a crappy discount bed around October from a big name, PetStore, that claims to be intelligent. She loved it. Why, oh, WHY?! Why do they love the crappy ones? She made it quite clear that she would only sleep on this bed. Not the 2 $70(USD) bought for her birthday a few years ago, customized. The $15 sale rack bargain basement cheap fucking bed. I love her, even when she is being a little shit.

So here I was hauling this bed up and down the stairs morning and night. I love my baby. At least that was what I repeated over and over again while walking those steps. So I resolved to get a second for her for Christmas.

At first, I couldn't remember which store I had found it in. No other store had anything close. It is one piece, and it doesn't have that little raised edge that all the other beds have. That seemed to be what she was liking. I finally located the bed online.

It was from that retailer I carefully didn't mention before, and they had discontinued it. I found the key to looking for that type of bed was bohemian style and indoor/outdoor. The one I bought is a close approximation. Or at least I thought it was,brought to you by the Warrior Women who used to sell books website.

Not really the same size, but she loves it, so good. I did have to cover the top with a blanket of course. Everything is covered with blankets. And I don't have to haul up and down stairs. Good deal all around.

I went back and looked. The confusion was that, even though I used the measurements, I didn't look at what the measurements were for. Turns out, not the bed!

Then I saw what the current price was. I said, "I know I didn't pay that. I have before when times were better, but money is tight. I'm on disability and the $15 bed was a splurge. I always go crazy at Christmas, though. I just plan for it. But I know I didn't pay that!

I'm like freaking out in my head, thinking maybe late night, Ambien induced shopping,(been there, done that had to remove apps off my phone so they were harder to access) stroke of Christmas glee or did I just lose it? Then I hunted down my original receipt.

I'm good with that. Hell of a sale.

I also had a good Christmas. Good presents, good food, good family. Missed the ones that aren't with us anymore but thought of them often. I even found a letter my Dad had written my niece when she was born and framed that for her. That wasn't from me. From me, she got a book on existentialism. She just graduated with a degree in Psychology. My nephew got a book on Les Paul vs Gibson. My SIL got Pottery Tools and My Bro got a coding joke t-shirt. I got a coat and storage bins. From my Aunt I got organizers(sensing a theme?) and my cousins got me gift cards and pictures of their kids for my family tree wall.

I almost forgot. I got a pair of brookstone heated slippers and a reverse coloring book from my niece and her boyfriend. He got from me a bunch of movies. He wasn't really a movie person before he met my niece. My Bro and family have been alowly teaching him about crappy movies. I found a whole stock pile of things like The Lego Movie and Vaction in Discount racks. Filled the box. The interesting part was this. I'm good with wrapping standard packages. And Box, right? I had sheets of square paper. He had dragons because I ran out of the 40 year old Ziggy cartoon paper I found in the attic that I used for everyone else's packages.

But square paper+square box=EZ, right?

I.

HAVE.

N E V E R.

HAD SUCH TROUBLE WRAPPING A PACKAGE.

I tried one way, and it crumbled. I went the other way it ripped. I was the one who wrapped packages when they needed to be wrapped. I tend to prefer bags as they are recyclable. Like, I've been using the same bags since the 90s. T-shirt boxes too, if you open them carefully. I always try to save tissue paper, too. Money saved is money earned.

My Dad was a different story. Couldn't wrap a package for a million dollars. He objected to the idea of gift bags; he said the fun was in opening a present. Granted, as he got older, he had trouble with his hands, and that could have been part of the problem. Both his father and my Mom's father worked for 3M, so there was always tape to spare, and he used it. I use a plethora of tape as well, but all done invisibly, so you can't unwrap it easily. But my Dad started having trouble with that tape dispenser and keeping track of the end of the tape. So he grabbed the next nearest thing. The stapler. He started using gift bags but stapling them closed, rendering them unreusable. AAARRGGHHHH!!!! I finally told him to leave them on the table, and I would wrap them them.

Back to this year and the unwrappable square box. My Dad had not been comfortable at first with my niece's boyfriend as he was not from the same socioeconomic background. He was Baptist, we are Catholic. There were a few differences that my Dad felt insurmountable. My feeling is that his spirit was there while I was trying to wrap that present. I felt it was a tacit approve of him from beyond. I told this to my niece and she also agrees.

[dailyaudiobible]

12/22/2023 DAB Transcript

Zechariah 2:1-3:10, Revelations 13:1-18, Psalm 141:1-10, Proverb 30:18-20

Today is the 22nd day of December, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I'm Brian. It is fantastic. It is a joy; it is an honor and a privilege. It's crazy that we even have this place that we can come, and call home and just be warm and cozy around a campfire together. That's a peaceful oasis for us; it’s a joy to be here with you today. So, we began the book of Zechariah yesterday and that is the second to the last book in the Old Testament, and we will continue with Zechariah for the next several days, until the last couple of days of the year. So, we’re not flying through another book today in its entirety, we’re picking up where we left off, which is our normal custom around here. So, things should feel a little bit more normal, even though Christmas is almost upon us. Let’s pick up where we left off and that will be Zechariah chapters two and three today.

Commentary:

Okay, unless we’ve been asleep most of the year, Christmas is upon us. We’re just a couple of days away and those of us with kids, especially with little kids, probably counting down the hours and they can't sleep and try to figure everything out and some of us are getting ready to travel and make sure we don’t forget anything like kids. Others of us are making the preparations to receive family that’s gonna be traveling to us, maybe they’re coming from just across town but maybe they're coming from across an ocean, and that's, that brings a very disruptive but very joyous time right, the coming back together. It should be joyous, it brings us back together and around people who were present in our early years, maybe our siblings, parents, aunts, cousins, uncles, whoever, reunited, we become reunited kinda with our childhood in some ways and even though we’re adults now and maybe we have families of our own and maybe we even live in a different city and we’ve built our own life. It doesn't take long when we get back in our environment to fall immediately back into the role that we, that we were forced to play, or that we played as youngsters. And when we find ourselves in that place, and we’re like, this isn’t really who I am anymore. I have my own kids. I have my own life. I have my own spouse; I have my own everything. I feel like this younger thing going on, right, the soft places start getting touched and then something gets said, an old word, and old teasing, old scorn. These things start creeping in and then maybe the generational differences and all of the opinions that go on in family and the convictions rubbing up against each other and that's just a, it’s a beautiful, joyous time that is ripe for something to start a fire, right. Somebody says something that's volatile; just a little too far. And then everything, everything starts to go sideways and a good day becomes a very difficult day. We read something in Psalms today that maybe should give us some advice on how to handle this. Oh Lord, place a guard on my mouth, protect the opening of my lips. Do not let me have evil desires or participate in sinful activities with people who behave wickedly. I will not eat their delicacies. It’s a pretty ancient prayer, it comes from King David. So, thousands of years ago, but it compels us to make some choices now, right before any gifts are brought from any trunks, any keep of any moments where words may form and happen before they can be unsaid. We’re out in front of all of that. We need to remember that we’re not who we used to be. Like, if you’ve been here all year, and we’ve been just taking this journey this year, then you're not who you were at the beginning of the year. You're not who you were before, and you can choose who you are, you can choose to bring light and life into situations where you may have once jumped right into the darkness. But it's not easy to make these decisions in the moment, they need to be made in advance. So, let's remember this season, this is Emmanuel, this is God with us. This is God's unwillingness to abandon His people and leave us in our story. It shows us that He deeply longs to be a part of everything that we do and He wants it intensely, including intimacy with those that we often find ourselves in conflict. So, we have the joy of Christmas to give or to withhold. We have love to give or withhold. May we go into these next days, offering the light of the world flowing through our very lives and out of our mouths. May we be lights that shine the kingdom's brightness, as we celebrate the arrival, the advent of the Savior. And may wherever we walk, may that be holy ground. Because as we read in the Scriptures in the Psalms yesterday, where can I go, that You are not; where can I flee from Your spirit. The spirit of the living God is in us, let's let loose love, joy, peace, long-suffering, patience, kindness, gentleness. And let's choose that in advance.

Prayer:

And so, Father, we come to You choosing that in advance, out in front of things we need Your Holy Spirit. Some of the people we have to deal with can be very, very difficult to deal with. And maybe we can be really difficult to deal with too. May Your spirit hover; may You permeate our words and our actions. May we act in love, as we interact in the disruptive ways of Christmas time. Come, Holy Spirit in the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com, that's home base, that’s where you find out what’s going on around here. The Daily Audio Bible app does that as well. And that's right in the palm of your hand, just search for Daily Audio Bible, at whatever app store works with your device. And it’s Christmas time around here and so, we brought out these commemorative, keepsake vinyl projects, five different musical projects from the Daily Audio Bible as collectors editions. And those are still available in the Daily Audio Bible Shop or in the app, just navigate to the Shop and look for the Christmas category and you'll find them there. Thank you for your partnership as we press forward into the new year and toward brand-new technology coming into all of our lives, as we move forward as the Global Campfire.

And if you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible as the, as the year ends. Thank you, humbly and profoundly. Thank you. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you're using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996 Springhill, Tennessee 37174.

And as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, that's the little red button up at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today, I'm Brian, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Prayer and Encouragement:

Hey my compassionate DAB fam, this is Kingdom Seeker Daniel. Family, I am coming to you guys to ask for prayer for one of our beloved DAB members. Most of you know her as Susan from Canada, God’s Yellow Flower. I have the distinct pleasure and privilege of knowing her as mom. God has so blessed my life to have this sweet lady take me in as her son, her boy. And so, many of you guys know the journey that she and Keith have been on with the battle with cancer. And so, she just learned a couple of days ago that the cancer has returned in Keiths body. And as you guys know, mom is a trooper, she’s a warrior, she’s always gonna have a good attitude and praying for others and lifting others up. And just caring on others. And so, she mentioned the other day that she’s a little anxious. And so, I’m asking you family, will you join me lifting up our beloved Susan from Canada, God’s Yellow Flower, my mom here at the DAB. So, let’s pray real quick. Father, I thank you for this amazing servant of Yours and for Keith, as the reports have come in that the cancer has returned, God we thank You that You have defied the odds once before in Keiths life, will You do it again. Will You continue to sustain Keith’s body. Comfort moms heart. Strengthen her and let her know, You’ve got her boy. And we give You praise for what You will do, in Jesus name. Amen.

Good morning, DAB family. This is Paula from Albuquerque, New Mexico. Gosh, I love you guys. Merry Christmas and hope that you guys are having a wonderful holiday season and celebrating with your families. Yeah, I’m one of those people that I will Merry Christmas people until their ears hurt. Anyway, I called for Greg, our brother that is struggling in his marriage. Greg, I know your pain. Me and my ex-husband lived as what I had heard at the time, this term called married singles. We lived in the house together with our children, while we were in the midst of our divorce. It was painful. My ex-husband became more and more bitter. It is hard. And I tried just loving him. We’ve been divorced almost 17 years, and he still has so much bitterness inside of him, it’s really sad. Just love her. And I agree with our brother that called and prayed for you today, Monday, December 18th, that love conquers all. Just stay in there, hang in there. Do not give in. I was reminded by friends that separation, legal separation is only one signature away from a divorce. Lord, I lift them up to you, every single married couple that is having problems in their marriage. Give them the strength, the love, the endurance. Help them to recognize that You are there in the midst of it. Amen.

Trajan from Massachusetts, this is Susan from Canada, God’s Yellow Flower. And we heard your prayer request. Sometimes it goes on the Community Prayer. But they’re all played, I believe. So, I just loved your prayer. I just loved it. And I just wanna bless you that, know that we are praying for you. Yeah, that Lord God, that you’re, the anger in this heart, the hurt in his heart. The pain in his heart, Lord God, would be replaced with the joy of the Lord. The joy of knowing eternity, that these brief and momentary troubles we are having on earth, are but just a, like someone said, a spec of memory in light of eternity. And we are waiting, we are waiting Lord, for Your rest in heaven with You. Lord God, and we want to do the best we can while we’re down here. So, I pray You will help this young man and just lift him out of this miery clay and set him on the solid rock of Jesus Christ. Where no storms can dash him away. But that You would hold firmly onto him and replace a broken heart with a full heart for You. Holy Spirit, just touch him gently and draw him out of the pain that he’s in and into freedom with Christ. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.

Salutations my DAB family. It’s His Little Songbird from Alberta, Canada. And I just heard God’s Smile on the Prayer and Encouragement. Oh, sweety you sound so burdened, like your heart is just dragging behind you. I want you to know that I am praying for Tom and I’m praying for you as well. Cause I know what it’s like to hurt for my child. I just, I pray, and I ask the Lord to wrap His hedge of protection around the both of you. To put His blood covering over you and to help you through whatever it is that is happening. Oh, my sweet sister. I love you. God loves you so much more.

[fandomscombine]

The Boyfriend Introduction

George Weasley x Reader

This is an entry for @wonderful-writer​ ‘s Ficmas Writing Challenge 

Prompts: “Exactly how many people did you invite over for Christmas dinner?”

Tropes No.6. There’s only one bed

Trope No.8. Snowed in

BG: Will George make a good first impression on your strict parents over Christmas Dinner? What happens when prying muggle relatives are added to the mix? No magic is allowed, and a heavy snowstorm trapped everyone inside. What was supposed to last a couple of hours had stretched overnight. Will your family approve of George? Or will he be trapped with people who dislike him for the night?

A/N: This took almost a month to write. Started this with my writing motivation streak on high. Then the burnout came, I could write nor even read. Now I’m slowly trying to get back into the mood. Yea I realized that it’s not super Christmasy. But I hope that you enjoy it all the same.

WC:3352

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

‘Okay, you remember everything?’ You had just finish debriefing George on the what to expect when you arrive home later. What your parents likes and dislikes, what the home dynamic is, etcetera, brownie points to note to make sure he lands on your parent’s good side-you want your boyfriend’s first impression to be perfect!

‘Yes love, EVERYTHING. We’ve gone over this 3 times already, trust me it’s all up here’ George said, tapping a finger against his temple. ‘At this rate, I am more scared for them as it would be a total stranger knew everything about them!’ He pointed out.

‘Hey, you’re not a total stranger, they’ve met you before!’ You countered.

‘For only a couple of minutes, plus Fred was with us that time, I doubt they could have differentiated between us from that short time alone.’

Recalling back to the end of the summer holidays when your family had bumped into the Weasleys and Harry while school supplies shopping at Diagon Alley. You were just leaving of Flourish and Blotts while they were headed in. You had dropped your brand-new books and the twins had helped you pick them up. You had exchanged a quick thank you before hurried leaving to catch the bus back to muggle London.

Your parents had gratefully allowed you to spend the holidays at The Burrow, but only after they had met the boyfriend who you could never stop talking about. Majority of your letters back home consisted of gushing about how wonderful and sweet George is, so naturally your parents were curious and intrigued to finally meet this handsome fellow.

They had arranged for a Christmas Eve Dinner at home before you depart for The Burrow later in the evening.

‘You know, you still haven’t told me how you got your parents to let you spend the Christmas holiday with us.’ Quipped George. ‘I thought your dad was pretty strict.’ The Hogwarts Express had started slowing down, nearing its destination of Platform 9 ¾.

‘Yea but I guess it the real gamechanger was Mr.Weasley. The last I heard was that they started hanging out during breaks in the Ministry. It started out as a reconnaissance of some sort-the basic background check if the boy dating my daughter is good enough. Which then blossomed into friendship.’ You lean back against the train compartment window, giving him more space to reach up to the luggage rack overhead.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘George! Y/n! Over here!’ Ginny yelled. She was standing near the trolleys, surrounded with a group of redheads.

Once you reached her, she wrapped you in a tight embrace. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

You chuckled, patting the girl’s shoulder. ‘Gin, I’m only be gone for a couple hours, we’ll be back by midnight.’

‘Yea, but til then I’ll be stuck with these dofusses.’ She winced, nodding towards the direction of her brothers.

‘Hey!’ exclaimed Ron.

Ignoring him, Ginny continued. ‘You know how time drags with these idiots. Why couldn’t I just come with?’

‘No you aren’t young lady.’ Stated Mrs.Weasley, making her way pass her children. ‘This is a very important occasion, meeting the parents. George has to make a good impression to y/n parents.’  She turned to the younger twin, hands on her waist. ‘So. NO funny business okay? I expect you to be on your best behaviour.’ She warned.

George raised 3 fingers up. ‘Yes ma’am. I promise.’

Mrs Weasley knew that despite George’s playful response, would keep this promise. Afterall she knew her children at heart. Recognises George’s coping tactics for nerves is through humour.

‘Alright then. I’ll see you later.’ Hugging you then her son. ‘Oh before I forget, we’ll take your luggage back with us so that it’ll be easier for you to get home. Fred! Percy! Come help me with these!’

‘Thank you Mrs.Weasley for-‘

‘Molly dear, call me Molly. I’ve known you for years now, you’re basically part of the family.’

You can feel your face warm up. ‘Thanks…Mrs…. I mean Molly for everything.’

‘No worries dear. Just be careful, I heard that it’ll snow more later.’

‘We will Mum.’ Replied George, placing a kiss on her check. ‘Don’t worry.’

You held your hand out to George. ‘Ready for your first ever ride on a muggle double decker bus?’

‘Oh yes.’ He nodded, interlocking his hands with yours.

~

‘Mum! I’m home!’ You shake off the snow that had stuck onto your boots before entering.

‘In here Dumpling!’ said a distant voice.

‘Dumpling huh?’ George teased; a smirk plastered on his face.

You were glad to see him calm down. ‘yea yea.’

‘Care to tell me why?’

‘Nope. Now get your butt in here.’

The house though small is full of life. Walls are lined with picture frames of the family together and along the hallway are frames of each member throughout the years.

You follow the fragrant smell of citrus in the air coming from the kitchen.

You head towards the opened refrigerator. ‘Merry Christmas Eve Mum!’ You greeted but were surprised to see someone else. ‘Dad! What are you doing here?’

‘What do you mean? It’s MY house!’ He resorted, taken aback.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘They let us off early in the Ministry.’

‘He means he left early’ Chimed your mother.

‘Perks of being the head of the department.’ He says nonchalantly, releasing you from a airtight embrace.

Your eyes light up. ‘You got the promotion?’ You asked, your father standing proud with a dazzling smile. ‘Congratulations Dad!’

‘Now now, this evening is not about me.’ His eyes dart to the tall boy behind you. The boy whose face showed apparent awkwardness during the mini intimate family catch up. ‘I don’t believe we’ve formally met. y/f/n yf/l/n.’ Extending his hand.

‘george..’ George cleared his throat. ‘George Weasley ,Sir. Pleasure to meet you Sir.’  George wondered if his hand had sweat more, feeling that your father was gripping his tight. Before his mind were to go down that rabbithole, he turned to your mother. ‘M’am..’

‘No please, call me y/m/n.’ Your mother insisted. ‘It’s nice to finally meet you George, we’ve heard so much about you.’ She leaned in close, whispering. ‘Between you and me, most of our dumpling’s letters here are about you!’ She looks over her shoulder to make sure, they aren’t overheard. Thankful you are preoccupied with dad. ‘It’s great to finally have a face to the name!’ Taking a more solemn tone she continued. ‘Listen you take good care of her okay, she doesn’t let anyone in her emotions easily, so you must be special.’

Just as fast as it came, she was back to normal. George would have thought that he imagined that whole exchange if it weren’t from the gleam in your mother’s eyes.

‘Right then.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘y/f/n, my love. Why don’t you give George here a tour of the house. Then help y/n and I when you’re done.’

‘On it my love.’ Your father replied, pecking your mother’s cheek. ‘George! I’m told you love inventing, so why don’t we start on with my study, I bet there’s a lot of things you’d find interesting.’ Said your father, leading George up the kitchen and up the stairs.

Once they rounded out the corner, your mother was instantly at your side, bumping your hips. ‘He seems like a nice boy. Quieter than I expected.’

‘Yea, He’ll get into the zone later.’ You noted. ‘Give him time and when he’s comfortable, he’ll be more like himself. He’ll really nervous, that’s all.’

‘I know.’

That made curious. ‘You know?’

‘Oh yess.’ Your mother sighed. ‘Your father had that exact same face when he first went to meet Grannie and Grandpops.’

‘Really?’ How had she never shared this story before?

‘umm hmm’ She reminisced. ‘It’s good that his reaction is like that. It shows that one’s scared and anxious, wanting to impress and give a good first impression.’

When she saw how lost you look, she held your chin up, elaborating. ‘It means that he cares. That it’s a big important deal, meeting the parents.’

~

It’s been a hour already since your father had dragged George off, to what you believe as a house tour disguised as a boyfriend interrogation. Truth be told you were scared out of your mind, you never had brought home a boy before so you didn’t know what to expect, this is unknown territory.

The growing sounds of footsteps and…laughter? Surely that was a good sign.

‘Woah that is a lot of food. Exactly how many people did you invite over for Christmas dinner?’ George had come up behind you, with a hand on your lower back- touchy as if warming up and testing the waters on how much physical touch he could get away with, with your parents in the room.

‘A lot.’ You replied, angling up to poke his cheek. ‘You’re not the only one with a big family, Weasley’

‘I thought you were only 4 of you?’

‘well, my mom’s side of the family is coming.’ You explained, counting them on your fingers. ‘So that’s includes my grandparents, aunts and uncles and their family-my cousins.’

‘why only your mom’s side?’ George was genuinely confused, isn’t Christmas all about getting together with family?

You chuckled. ‘oh it’s a funny story actually…’

‘More like an almost disastrous story.’ Cut in your father. ‘See my brother is a lightweight but every Christmas he tries to outdrink himself. And one Christmas, things…..got out of hand.’

When your father didn’t explain more, your mother further clarified, taking pity on George’s ever more puzzled look. ‘Long story short, he end up doing magic infront of my family specifically changed into his Animagus form it would be easy to say he just disappeared behind the couch if his animal form was small but his was a tiger- so harder to cover up.’

‘Dad ultimately had to obliviate 7 people’s memories of the past hour. From then on, for long holidays we separate the family into magic vs muggles.’

‘SO remember NO magic!’ Announced your dad. ‘Tonight, we act as Muggles, no magic at all cost. We won’t wanna risk Ministry intervention.’

~

The early Christmas dinner had gone in a blur, the food was quickly devoured by the table of 15. Yes that’s right, 15. Normally the dinner table could expand to accommodate 6 people, but thanks to transfiguration, your father had lengthen it to fit the then arriving guest.

In addition to enjoying the food, your relatives had seized the time to pry into your love life in between bites. The previous years’ answer of “I don’t have a boyfriend” followed by their unwanted input about what you’re doing wrong, was obviously not applicable.

So you ended up being interrogated by your aunt on your right, while George, who was sitting on your left was being questioned by your grandfather.

‘Gee is that the time! We better get going, maw come on dear we don’t want to be caught out of the road by the snowstorm.’ Your grandfather said, helping your grandmother up from her seat. ‘Get the car ready, Finn.’

At that, everyone began to get pack up. Usually you would all stay up for more talks, but under the threat of a looming snowstorm, it was better to be safe than sorry.

~

‘Alright dumpling, got everything?’ Your mother wondered, straightening up your coat.

‘Yup’ You replied, all snuggled up. You didn’t bother telling her that the coat wasn’t necessary as you would be apparating back to the Burrow- you knew how much she hated the tension apparition causes to one’s temples.

‘George..’ She said, now moving towards the quiet young man who had once again caught himself a bit out of place in such an intimate family moment. ‘It was really nice to meet you; I do hope that we would get to see you most often now that y/n has formally introduce us.’ She pulled him into a motherly hug. ‘You take care of my dumpling, or else… you’d find out what muggle parents do to those who hurt their children, and I warn you, you magic folks don’t know what’s coming.’

The final warning came and went, and George managed to utter. ‘I promise.’ Before your father came into view, looking more unreadable and stricter than their introductions earlier in the day.

George was terrified, he had thought that things had gone well, surely they had bonded over the guide house tour. Might had he said something wrong during dinner, Grandpa y/l/n sure did ask a lot of questions. George mentally recalled the past couple of hours, where could this all gone sideways.

To his surprise he was greeted with an outstretched hand. ‘You’re a good lad, George.’ Remarked your father, ‘Oh and you can call me y/f/n.’

Both your and George’s eyes go wide.

‘Thank you, sir! I mean…’ George was still nervous, a part of him thinking that this was a secret test. ‘y/f/n, sir. Thank you’ Tried George, the tips of his ears red.

Your father chuckled at the hesitant boy, ‘In time you will get the hang of that’ He turned to you. ‘That is.. if y/n is willing to for us to join you two in the future. The dinner might have frightened you off, sorry for that.’ Your father wrapped an arm around your mother, ‘Perhaps the next time could be with MY side of the family…’

At that moment the doorbell rang.

‘Now who could that be?’ Voiced your mother. ‘Mum, Dad!’

‘Bad News dearie, Roads and Highways are closed for the night-Too much snow.’ Explained your grandfather, barging into the warm house. ‘We’ll have to stay the night.’

‘Uh! George my boy, you are still here! Great! Pa look who it is!’ Cheered your grandfather, pinching his arm (His cheeks were too high up to reach).  Leaving George’s right sleeve with specks of melting snow. ‘Though I am afraid we would get to chatting in the morning, sleep is calling me.’

But before George would reply that he wouldn’t be here in the morning, your father interjected. ‘Yes yes of course, the guestroom is ready as always. Have a good night’s rest nannie.’ Looking past her to the doorway he shouted. ‘Finn you can take the couch, we’ll give you some blankets in a sec.’

He gestured for you both to follow him into the dinning room. You quickly followed suit, panicking as to how in the world could you apparate to the burrow while presenting a valid reason to your grandparents in 2 young person’s disappearance overnight when the is a heavy snowstorm raging on.

‘I wouldn’t suggest apparating tonight’ He huffed. ‘Unless of course if you don’t mind popping back in again tomorrow morning.’

You shook your head. You were not an earlier riser, besides spending the night in the burrow when had to be back home first thing would be wise, you would be just exhausting yourself.

‘Good. I’ll notify Arthur of our situation. Now unto the other thing….’ He raised a brow at George. ‘Since that the spare room and the couch are taken, it would be rude to ask a guest to rest in a more comfortable place..’

You internally groaned, you kinda had an idea where this conversation was headed to but gosh was it in the parents handbook to deliver to so awkwardly?

‘…you are bot old enough and trust both of you. So, George if you don’t mind, you would be spending the night in y/n’s room.’

You dared risked a quick glance at your boyfriend and you could tell that he was trying not to smirk.

George in fact was trying his best not to smile, biting the insides of his cheek to stop himself.

‘So no funny business.’

‘Yes Sir.’ George didn’t dare call him, y/f/n. Not at this moment, even if he was granted the permission.

~

‘So….This is me.’ Presenting your room. ‘It’s not much, but-‘

‘It’s beautiful.’ George cut you off. There wasn’t much going on, seeing that you spend majority of the year in Hogwarts and only a month or two at home. A single bed next to the window overlooking the road, a small desk, a wardrobe with a mirrored door and 2 bookshelves. Plain white walls decorated with a small makeshift photo wall of your most cherished memories.

Spotting the photos next to your bookshelf, he chortled.  ‘It’s really sweet of you, I feel honoured.’ He turned to you. ‘But this one? Seriously??!!?’ Pointing at the photograph.

It was of the yule ball. The relationship wasn’t official yet, it was still teetering on the side of best friends but with something more or so Fred calls ‘Y/n and George’s Era of Mutual Pining’.

The shot was of you in your gown, not so elegantly piggybacking on George, who was mid fall. Despite it all, you were both laughing your heads off. Ginny had taken that picture with your muggle camera. Something about it being developed as a standstill compared to the moving wizard photos adds charm to it, further highlighting such a moment.

‘I for one love it.’ You declared, leaning your head on his shoulder.

‘We do look nice together.’ He teased. ‘But gosh that is a bit unflattering, don’t you think? It looks like we’re drunk!’

‘Drunk on love you mean.’ Nudging his side. ‘Though we haven’t admitted it then.’

George squinted closer, ‘Wait a minute! It’s not moving!’

‘Yup, don’t want any muggle walking in a moving photo. But more importantly, it’s forever captures the moment of ‘I am in love with my best friend, a person who would never let me fall.’

‘Expect to fall in love, with your truly.’

‘Exactly.’ In moments like these, where no one else in the room, does George lets his sappy cheesy side on full blast and you love it. It’s as if a top-secret surprise that is for your eyes only.

‘Now come to bed with me.’ You reach for his hand, dragging him to your tiny bed. ‘I’m tired’

‘Love as much as I want to, I don’t think we’d fit.’ Eyeing the bed. ‘One of us will fall off- most probably me.’

Taking one of you pillows he said ‘ I’ll just lay down here.’

‘Nuh uh, not in my house. You are my boyfriend and my guest! No way am I letting you sleep on the floor!’ You argued. ‘Come cuddle with me, pleaseeeeeeee’ Giving him your best pout. ‘We have had any alone time, the whole day! Pleaseeeee babe! ’

George shook his head, knowing that the was no way that he could ever say ‘NO’ to you. He did miss his girl and after an exhaustive day practically being interrogated by multiple family member, he was grateful to finally spend time with you. ‘Alright.’ Giving into your request. ‘Scoot over and let me engulf you into a world of softness.’

Your head was resting on George’s chest, bopping along with his each intake of breath. The snow outside is still pouring but the all the noise is silenced as you focus in his heartbeat.  Tilting up slightly you pipped. ‘You comfortable Georgie?’

George wrapped his arms around you tighter. ‘I’m good anywhere with you.’ He placed a final kiss on your forehead before exhaustion take you both away to dreamland.

~

Bonus:

The sun had come up, casting a warm glow onto the white blanked pavement.  

Still drained from the day before, neither of you had woken up to your bedroom door opening.

‘Merry Christmas Y/n dearie! Nannie has bought you your favourite hot choco—’  Your grandmother stopped in her tracks upon seeing 2 angels tangled together with smiles etched on their sleeping faces. Reminding her of own younger days.

She leaves the mug on your desk, quietly shut the door. Once out on the hallway, she quickly makes her way to her husband, eager to tell him what he just saw and excited to come up with more questions they could interrogate George with-only the best for their granddaughter!

--

 Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

[bluboothalassophile]

Hi blu how are you doing? Hope this year is treating you well so far. Would you please consider doing a jay/rae romantic prompt please any of them would do thank you for your time have a good day.

Hello,

I’m alright, I hope you’re doing well as well. This year has been... interesting thus far but hey, no one’s shooting at me so, so far so good. How about you? How are you doing and how is this year going?

As to your request, ‘tis the season for love so I hope you enjoy!

Because...

She stared at it as the storm was coming in, he paused on the porch steps to look back at her.

“Rae?” Jason called out.

“I’m sorry, coming,” she said as she shook herself of the awe she felt seeing the colonial home he had restored.

“Excuse the mess, I haven’t been here much to take care of it,” he said softly as he unlocked the door. They walked in and he shut both doors firmly, hanging up their wet coats. She shivered a bit as they walked into the home, the wooden floors were rich in dark red coloring, the walls were painted a pale blue-grey color which was probably very warm in the light. The furniture looked comfortable, well cared for and carefully selected. She paused at the photos he had hanging up on the walls.

There were beautiful paintings, she recognized them as Mary-Beth’s.

“Your cousin is extremely talented,” he murmured. “When you were… she invited me to the art shows,” he explained. “I bought them off her.”

“She told me she invited you,” Raven murmured as she stared at the farmhouse in the painting.

“She wanted to know about you, little bird,” he whispered. “She’s a lot like you, and not.”

“She’s very… Mary-Beth,” Raven chuckled as she stared at a portrait of herself with Jason then. It was from that Christmas Gala she had attended with him so long ago.

“She painted that,” he said. “Anniversary of… you know, brought it to me in the hospital,” he explained.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” he agreed. “She came to ask me about you, had portalled out of Grimwood to come ask me about you while I was high on morphine and trapped in a hospital bed,” he mused. “She was… very persistent and curious.”

“I can only imagine,” Raven chuckled.

“You can,” he replied softly. “I hated her for that visit,” he explained. “I thought she was you, and I begged you not to leave, not to go, to stay.”

“I didn’t mean to leave,” she stated as she rested her hand on his heart. “I was never going to leave you willingly.”

“I’m not… You couldn’t have stopped it Rae, it happens, it’s not something you can plan for, it’s just… it’s an inevitability to every living being in the universe,” he said tilting her head back so she was looking into his eyes. “And I can’t fault that, I just…. I can’t call it what it was, I know what it was, and I know it was real, and somehow, like me, you’re back. And I’m so happy you’re back,” he explained tucking an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. “Mary-Beth, she looks a lot like you,” he said. “Different eyes, different brows, and skin tones, but you two do look eerily similar,” he mused.

“She really came to visit you in the hospital.”

“Annoyingly persistent,” he groaned. “We watched… Vampire Diaries and the Originals, I didn’t mind the second show, but I hated the first.”

“At least she didn’t make you watch Twilight,” Raven snorted.

“No… no she didn’t, and she even wished she could do a spell to undo the creation of Twilight, I definitely liked her for that. She has better tastes in books than my family do, but not as good as yours,” he chuckled.

“That’s reassuring.”

“You’re my bookworm,” he declared. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room,” he said. “You can get a hot shower and dry clothes, we can continue the talk later.”

“I have a room here?”

“Of course,” he answered. “I didn’t throw your stuff out,” he admitted softly as they went up the stairs and walked a small hall. He opened a dark door and she stepped in, her eyes widening as she looked around.

“Jason…” she breathed.

“Vic helped me,” he said softly. “We couldn’t… it didn’t matter you weren’t here, we couldn’t, we couldn’t let you go little bird. Harley picked the quilt, she kept it in blues, purples, pinks and greens for you, Ivy picked the plants, and ensured they were easy enough that I couldn’t kill them, Vic brought over all your books and your clothes, including those atrocious shirts.”

“This is beautiful,” she murmured.

“Lucifer and Mazekeen picked out the furniture, in all the rooms actually, I tried to stop them but they had good tastes,” he grimaced as he set her bag on the steamer trunk. “And Constantine set up your grimoires, put the needed spells on them. Mary-Beth’s art too. Timmy, Teether, and Melvin sent the photos, Barda and Scott just sent the postage. Your aunt, uncle and grandfather brought the photo album, it’s in the trunk, and books on the shelf are the ones I knew you favored. Billy and Jess got you the stuffed animals.” He pointed to the teddy bear in a Mets Jersey and Sparky the Dragon.

“When did you…?” she turned to look at him curiously.

“I started after… I couldn’t throw it out, and we didn’t think you were dead.”

“So you made this?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he answered.

“What if…?”

“Then I had a sanctuary I could be close to you,” he answered. “I missed you, little bird. I’d have done anything to be around you again,” he warned her. “Anything.”

“This is…”

“Get a hot shower, drink some tea and we’ll talk later,” he said softly stepping towards her. “I… I’m glad you’re back, Rae,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to her brow. She closed her eyes and breathed the damp scent off him.

“Jason?”

“Yes?” he turned in the door as he stared back levelly. The Pit was pulsing in his eyes, and the ragged J seared into his cheek had made him look more menacing than he actually was. He could never be handsome, not in the traditional sense, his lips had a hook scar running through them, there were other smaller scars scattered over his face which were pale, and near invisible compared to the J branding his face. His nose had been broken a few times, it was slightly zig-zagged from different breaks, and his brow was heavy, his dark hair was curly when he let it grow out and his white patch of bangs flopped in his face when his hair was long. There was a smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and a near permanent dimple around his mouth. He looked like the living embodiment of trouble.

“Why’d you do this?” she asked.

“Cause I love you,” he answered honestly. “I’m going to change and get the tea going,” he stated, disappearing before she could respond.

“I love you too,” she whispered to the empty door hoping he heard. Unzipping her bag she grabbed her things to get a hot shower and dry off.

[monstrousroommates]

Raspberry Morbs

(On ao3)

The Christmas season was incredibly busy. Roman’s theatre was putting on a very grand panto, and the Cairnhills wanted him to come to their holiday parties. He was very concerned that they planned to set him up with one of Patricia's friends. Probably the one who loved cerise and arsenic green.  Tiffany? Something like that. She had dark eyes and a strong jaw, leaning towards handsome instead of pretty. Patrica wrote to him about her a lot, about the difficulty she was having with her season, despite her aristocratic connections.  Roman wondered if revealing what he was actually doing with his time would dissuade them. Exactly how much of a social disaster would being an actor be?

Meanwhile, Remy’s correspondence heated up as he wrote back and forth with Johan, or Jean for now, setting things up for him to take his house and small staff back, while at the same time, Remy tried to decide where he was going to go next. He supposed he could get another house in town, or even move to a different part of the country. Either way he’d probably lose Roman’s company. He could go back to France, it had been a while. Maybe he could even sneak by his family’s old home and see which of his sisters had inherited it. 

That didn’t appeal to him in the least, now that he’d thought of it. He couldn’t go back. That wasn’t how it worked. Besides the idea of going back to the continent itched like a healing sunburn. It was a familiar sort of itch. He’d felt it as a teenager, before he’d ended up in the army- not a place Remy was really suited to.  Something was coming. Maybe not soon in a human’s life, but soon enough for him. Besides, a whole new century was coming up quickly. Maybe he should try something really different.  

Remy started a new letter.  Not much would actually happen until after Christmas Time, but letters took a while to get places, even with the RMS ships. 

Remy was sitting in the smoking room, avoiding the crowd at the Christmas party. Ed had invited him since he was hosting it and still considered Remy a good friend, not to mention the best friend of his cousin, and Patrica was showing off a substantial engagement ring, having managed to land a third son from a titled family. As was easily predicted, she was trying to fix up the last of her brother’s bachelor friends with people she knew. Remy was slightly jealous of Ernest who had disappeared head first into academia, and was quite aimed quite happily at confirmed bachelorhood. Remy personally suspected that Louis, Ernest’s man, had an extended relationship with him. At any rate, Ernest wasn’t attending, and Remy was only hiding a little. 

Roman sat down across from Remy ungracefully. Remy looked up from the book he was pretending to read. 

“So, it turns out admitting I’m working as an actor is exactly scandalous enough that they’re worried about me, but not enough for them to abandon me, when they could find me more appropriate employment. And a wife.”

Remy couldn’t help it. He snorted with laughter.

“What would you do with a wife?”

“Give her a good dress allowance, I suppose.” Roman shrugged, and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up wildly. “And probably her own bedroom.” He shook his head. “That … sounds familiar somehow.” he grumbled under his breath in a language Remy didn’t speak; probably either Greek or Egyptian, Remy hadn’t bothered to learn the difference between them. 

“Her name is in fact Tiffany, by the way.”  He sighed, and brought his feet up on the couch beside him, a habit Roman only exhibited when he was distracted. “She’s a lovely dancer. Dark hair, dark eyes, good family.” Roman rolled his hand. “Apparently her father was an officer in India, and got himself forcibly married to a local girl. Sort of.” He sighed. “I’m sure if I don’t escape, I’ll get the less romantic version.”  Roman shook his head. “Ah, buggerment, what time is it?” he pulled out his watch. “I’ve got to get off. Would you cover my absence?” 

“I’ll throw a cloth over it.” Remy agreed. “Pussy stays in the sack.” 

“You’re a grand pal.” Roman flashed a winning smile and kissed Remy’s cheek before heading out.  

Technically, bringing a few of their friends out to a Panto wasn’t telling them where Roman was. Remy had already bought the tickets and arranged it ahead of time, so it wasn’t as if he could back out at that late juncture. It was hardly his fault if Roman hadn’t been listening when he told everyone. At least everyone had a good time, and it did Ed some good to cut loose as he used to, even with a wife on his arm.

It was a pretty good show, to boot. 

In late February, Remy had gotten his answers, and was making plans.  Jean would be showing up in the spring, and he’d warned Marié and Albert. While they were both fond of Remy, they appeared to be glad that he’d be returning in their lifetimes, Johan being the one to initially employ them. Beyond that, he was more of a homebody, and there would be a greater staff to the house. Remy took most of his enjoyment outside the house, and had rarely thrown parties, the one where he ‘met’ Roman being something like unusual. 

He was sitting at the desk in his room, glasses off and pinching at his nose. Going far enough he wouldn’t actually need to alter much, but things were bound to be different. 

“Remy?” Roman stuck his head in, and finding his friend came in to sprawl on an armchair.  “You’ve been busy of late.”

“And you?”

Roman sighed. “They hired a new director, and he does not appreciate my talents. I have been shoved from the limelight and given no reason for it!” 

“Dreadful!” Remy shook his head, and rested on his elbow. “Nothing so terrible for me. I’ve been working up to reset.” 

“Ah.” Roman’s face looked a bit sad. “That means you’ll be leaving, doesn’t it?” 

“I’m heading to America.”

“Ah! Quite the change I’m sure. Good plan.” he curled up into the chair for a long moment, then looked up at Remy, and smiled. “... There is theatre in America.”

“Yes?”  Remy put his tinted glasses back on and turned to look at Roman. 

“I’m not quite ready to part your company.” Roman said fondly. “Let’s go together. Besides, I hear the Americans are doing marvelous things with photography.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Better to leave now, before I end up with a wife, or someone notices my continued good looks, hrm?” Roman smiled.  “Ah!” he came to his feet and struck a pose. “I will tell my darling aunt that I have taken her words to heart, and am heading to America to make something more of myself than a mere thespian,” he struck a pose. 

Remy leaned back in his chair and burst into laughter. 

“Tops, Pidge! Let’s do it!” He leapt up himself and gathered Roman into a hug spinning them around. “We’ll take the colonies by storm, the two of us!” 

Roman started laughing as well. 

“It’s my pleasure to continue as your companion!”

“And I won’t even make you travel in a box!” Remy teased, squeezing the other man close. “Owch!” he laughed. “I’m the one who bites things!” he teased.  

“Well you shall suffer the curse of this mummy’s company.”

“A fate worse than death- oh wait.” 

It wasn’t anything Remy had expected, but he was so glad to keep Roman’s friendship.

[whereisstevethestove]

Ventricle.

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Virgil, Logan, Katrina Flores (OC), Nico Flores

Relationships: Familial Logan &Virgil, hinted at Logan x Nico

Additional Tags: abortion mention, bisexual disaster logan, teen parenting, hate sex mention, logan having an emotional breakdown in a walmart, nico being a smooth motherfucker.

Word Count: 1805

Summary: Logan made a dumb decision when he was eighteen, which led him to being saddled with a difficult choice when he was just nineteen. Now he's living everyday with the consequences.(in the accidental adoption universe, but can be read as a stand alone. no prior knowledge needed)

Notes: *me, looking at the lack of nico x logan*: Fine, I’ll do it myself.  Also, I have an actual angst logan x nico fic coming out later today maybe, probably.

AO3  

@psychedelicships  here’s some logan and nico... at the end, but I promise it’s worth it.

He was nineteen, young and dumb when it happened-

Logan stared down at the sleeping boy in his arms, a newborn that was only five hours old, with a shock of black hair that was reminiscent of Logan’s baby photos.  He was the only one awake, his ex also asleep from the sheer toll of birth on her body.

She had wanted to keep him, and then, now that Logan was holding the infant, she had admitted that she was going just… throw him into the foster system and hope that someone wanted him.  Logan hadn’t wanted to keep the child, he’d begged her to have an abortion, but he’d promised in the end to still pay child support if that’s what she wanted.

But now…

Now he was holding his son.  She didn’t want him, he looked too much like his dad, and Logan could feel his own heart tearing apart as he thought of giving him up.  

His ex stirred and Logan looked up as she opened her eyes, a look of displeasure on her face.

“You’re looking at it all weird.”

Logan smiled softly down at the infant.  “I know.  He’s beautiful.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not a teen mom.”

“You told me that you don’t want him.”

“And I don’t.”  She looked up at the ceiling of the hospital room and sighed.  “Where did we go wrong Lo?” Lo.

Ah yes, the nickname that she’d called him for so long, when they were first dating junior year in highschool.  Logan used to look back on his past with fond memories, but now everything was tainted the smallest bit darker with the realization that he had, in fact, cut his younger phase short.

“It was the drunk hate sex, I’m sure.”  He responded and she laughed.

“I can’t take him.  I want a life Logan.”

Logan nodded.  “I’m sorry.  But if I may?”

“May what?”

The infant yawned in his sleep and Logan’s heart broke again.  “I’d like to take him.  You won’t have to pay child support, we can go our separate ways and never talk again if you want, but goddamnit, I want to raise him.”

She shot him a rueful look.  “Take him.  After I’m discharged, I never want to see you again though.”

“Of course.”  Logan held back his happiness, but his face betrayed him and even she knew as she watched him hold the infant just a bit closer.

Maybe a part of her wondered how someone like Logan could have ever loved that deeply.

Maybe a part of her didn’t care.

…

Logan had a harder time the next morning convincing the nurse who was filling out the paperwork to put him down as the provider.  After all, the kid was supposed to go straight to adoption, and now the father wanted him.

Not to mention the whole naming thing.  She was less than impressed when Logan told her that he wanted the infant to be named Virgil.  

Logan won both battles and after a talk with Virgil’s doctor, he was heading out to his car with the infant safe in a carrier, which he buckled in before getting in the driver's seat and leaving.

…

He had no idea what he was doing.  Virgil was sitting in the shopping cart child spot, chattering happily in the gibberish that only babies spoke as Logan had an emotional breakdown in front of the baby food.

It’d been six months since Virgil had been born, and according to online and the various books he’d read, advice from his mother and also from his great aunt, the kid should be fine starting solids, but he didn’t know which.

Virgil babbled something and a tiny hand patted Logan’s hair.   He looked up and Virgil giggled before reaching for his glasses.  Logan leaned his head back a bit.

“Virgil, we’ve discussed that you cannot gnaw on my glasses.  You have a teething toy or a pacifier if you’d like.”

Virgil clapped.

There was a gasp behind him and Logan looked back to see a woman, who was grinning at the pair.

“Is that your son?”  She walked up to him and cooed at Virgil.  “How old is he?” “Six months.”  Logan said tiredly as Virgil clapped again and the woman smiled.

“He’s clapping so early.  Most don’t for a good while.”

Logan pumped a tired fist in the air.  “Wonderful.”

“I’m Katrina, I’ve got some little ones at home, it can be tiring.  How old are you? You look a little young to be this sweetie’s daddy.  What’s your name?”

Logan held out his hand for her to shake.  “Logan Alt, nineteen.”

“Oh!  Is your lucky bride at home?”

Logan bit his lip and looked down at the floor of the supermarket.  “Ah, no.”

Katrina seemed to freeze for a moment, but it was fleeting enough that Logan ignored it as she looked up at him.

“Six months you say?  He should be in prime time to start solids.”  When Logan nodded, she seemed to straighten up.  “Would you like some help with a list of foods that you can start him on?  I also have a wonderful book in my car I can grab you.”

Logan stared at her.  

Then he burst into tears and Katrina pulled him into a hug, rubbing a hand soothingly across his back.

“Hey darlin, I know how hard it can be, having a young one so early.”  

Logan nodded into her shoulder and she pulled him back to arms length, a soft smile on her face.  “You’re gonna be the best dad this kiddo ever has.  Let me help you get him some starter foods and then I’ll give ya my number and you can call me on my phone whenever.  We sure are damn lucky for these samsung flip phones, aren’t we?”

“Thank you…”  Logan stuttered out as he wiped at his eyes.  Katrina nodded and gave him another hug before turning to Virgil and patting his head. 

“Hey buddy.  I’m here to help your daddy, okay?”

Virgil babbled something and mirrored her smile.  Katrina gave him another gentle pat on the head.  “Thank you for letting me know that very important thing.”

Logan looked down at Virgil.  “What’d he say?” Katrina’s response was simple.  “That he loves you very much.  Onward to the bananas!” …

Katrina and her family were there when Virgil first waddled up to Logan, and said his first word.

“Space!”

Logan blinked as Virgil made grabby hands, but he complied and lifted his son up into his arms.

Katrina leaned over.  “Looks like you have a little science nerd.”

Virgil reached out and excitedly patted Katrina’s shoulder.  “Space!”  He crowed out and Logan couldn’t help but grin as his now one year old excitedly chirped the word again, squirming in Logan’s arms.

“Looks like you might be right.  Would you like down?”  Logan asked and Virgil nodded vigorously.

Logan set him down.  Virgil laughed and clapped again before looking up at his dad with glee.  

“Space!”

“That’s right.”  Logan nodded solemnly.  “Space.”

Virgil waddled off to where Katrina’s other kids were playing, and the group easily parted to include him.

“Kat.. thank you for inviting us to your Christmas celebration, you didn’t need to.”  Logan looked away from Virgil and she shrugged.

“Lo, with your mom’s passing in November, you told me that you didn’t have anywhere to go, of course I’d offer you my home.”  Katrina picked at a loose thread on her sweater.  “Virgil deserves a good first Christmas, and you need social interaction.”

Logan laughed softly.  “I guess you’re right.”

“I always am.”  Katrina crossed her arms.  “I need to go check on my husband, but I’ll see you around.  Try talking to my younger cousin.”

Logan looked around the room.  “Where are they?”

Katrina pointed to a man Logan’s age, who was sitting on the couch, surrounded by the stuffed animals that the other kids were bringing to him.  “Nico Flores.  He’s single.”

She winked and Logan rolled his eyes at her fondly before heading over to the couch.  Nico looked up from the kid who was speaking to him, a grin splitting his face.  “Hey!  I could use some company!”

The kid that he’d been talking to rapidly fired something at him in Spanish and Nico laughed before responding in kind as Logan carefully moved the stuffed animals and sat next to him.

Once the kid had gone back to the others, Nico held a hand out for Logan to shake.

“Nico Flores.”

“Logan Alt.”

“That your son?”  Nico pointed to Virgil, who was sitting on the ground as another one year old passed him blocks, which he promptly threw down with a laugh.

“Yeah, how’d you guess?”

“He’s the whitest child here.”  Nico ran a hand through his hair and grinned at Logan.  “You’re extraordinarily pale.”

“It’s the german from my father’s side.”  

“Ah.”  Nico laughed as a girl brought him another stuffed animal, taking one from the pile on the ground at his feet as she switched them out.

“Thank you Tio!”

“It’s just Nico, you know that Gemma!” 

Gemma gave a screeching laugh as she ran off.   

“So, how’d you meet my cousin?”

“I had a bit of a rough time finding Virgil, that’s my son, some food as he was about to start solids and I’ve never had a child, so I was unsure of what to buy him and she helped.”  Logan smiled as Virgil looked up to find him, getting off the ground to waddle over and hold his hands up.   He picked up Virgil, who pulled his glasses off his face and held them out to Nico.

“Space!”

Nico took the glasses and nodded seriously.  “Space.”

Virgil, pleased, wiggled out of Logan’s grip again, but not before stealing a stuffed animal from the pile.

Nico handed him his glasses.  “He’s sweet.”

“Indeed.”  Logan smiled fondly before shaking himself out of it.  “So, what brings you here?”

“Kat invited me because, and I quote: ‘There’s gonna be a hot boy here, I swear it.’”  Nico grinned at him.  “She wasn’t wrong.”

Logan felt the blush start to creep up his face and he swallowed nervously.  “Oh?”

“Yeah.  It’s a pity I don’t know his number.”  Nico leaned back on the couch and shrugged.  “It’s also a pity that there’s not really any mistletoe nearby, the cat’s allergic.”

Logan felt like he was gonna die.

“Guess I’ll never know.”

“Ifyoureallywantmynumberyoucouldhaveit.”  Logan blurted out in a rush.

Nico gave him a blinding grin.  “Sounds like a date.”

Yeah, Logan had made some dumb decisions in his teenage years.  But if it had led him to a warm Christmas party, with a cute boy his age next to him and an adorable son playing with his friend’s kids…

Was it really dumb?

[idreamofplaid]

A Longing for Home

Summary: The reader has made a home for herself, but it isn’t complete without Sam.

Characters: Sam x Reader; Dean

Word Count: 1641

A/N: It’s another fic from along the way on my journey as a writer. It’s Part 1 of a two parter.

Raindrops hit the window pane gently soothing your worn and bruised heart. You opened your sketchbook and took your favorite drawing pencil in your hand. The sound of the graphite scratching across the page was the only noise in the room. With each line, an image of Sam began to materialize. This was your own kind of art therapy. 

When you were done, the result was a good likeness. Anyone would recognize it as Sam, but you hadn’t been able to capture the warmth in his eyes the way you wanted. Who he had been was still perfectly clear in your mind. You still heard his voice whispering to you in the dark of a motel room in Nebraska, Indiana, or Tennessee. It had never mattered to you where you were as long as you were with him. That was when Sam had a soul.

He had no feelings for you anymore, you or anyone else. You’d reached your breaking point and told Dean you needed to get away. It was too hard for you to be around the man who looked so much like Sam but clearly wasn’t him. Your Sam would have never flirted with other women right in front of your face, not that you could even call it flirting. It was too calculated. What Sam did, he did with purpose. And that purpose was to...

You slammed the sketchbook closed and tossed it on the bed next to you. Rain was still hitting the roof in a steady rhythm that should have been calming. You closed your eyes and hugged yourself. The flannel of the shirt you were wearing was soft and warm to your touch. There was a time you had worn Sam’s shirts, and he’d smiled every time he saw you in one of them. Sometimes you’d worn them just to see his dimples, but this wasn’t one of Sam’s shirts.

You shook your head to clear away the memory and dropped your hands to your sides. You scooted across the bed and stood up taking a minute to stretch before heading to the small kitchen. This cabin had always been your refuge. Your aunt had brought you and your cousin, Brianne, here when you were little girls. It was your aunt who had raised you and taught you to draw. She’d also taught you how important it was to take care of yourself. Self care was her legacy to you, and you needed it now more than you ever had.

You wished Aunt Laura was here now to offer her advice or give you a shoulder to cry on. It had been nine years since the heart defect she’d been born with had taken her from you, eleven since Bri had gone to France to be a pastry chef. When her mother had passed on, Bri told you the cabin was all yours. You were, after all, the sentimental one.

It was that part of you that longed for a home. So, you’d made this cabin as cozy as you could and let it serve as the representation of that dream for you. You filled it with your favorite things. There were bookshelves overflowing with every kind of title to suit any of your moods and a big overstuffed chair where you could sit and read by the window. There was a soft wine colored throw draped over that chair that you could wrap around you when you felt the need to be held. The kitchen was stocked with every flavor of coffee and tea you liked best. In the cupboard, there was a supply of your favorite shortbread cookies to have with your warm beverage of choice.

Today, you decided some peppermint mocha coffee was what you needed. You poured some water into the coffee maker and put a filter in the chamber. You opened the bag of coffee and inhaled the rich scent, one of your favorite smells in the world. You emptied some out of the bag onto the filter without measuring. You never measured. The sound of the coffee brewing filled the tiny cabin. 

Steaming mug of coffee in hand, you positioned the pillows on the sofa just the way you wanted them and snuggled in with your throw over your lap. The first taste of chocolatey richness was warm and comforting. You picked up a favorite book from the end table with the hope of losing yourself in another world for awhile to take the edge off the pain you were feeling in your own. It wasn’t long before your eyes began to droop, and you lay your head down allowing memories of a better time to invade your dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing Sam smile gave you the same feeling you had on the night before Christmas when you were a little girl. It felt like being on the verge of something wonderful and not knowing exactly what it was, but having him here in the cabin, in this place that was so special to you gave you a very good idea of what that something wonderful was for you. It was Sam, being with him, having him as a part of your life. 

More and more, you were certain that you wanted him in your life forever. That’s why you’d brought him here. You wanted to let him into your past by opening up this part of you. You’d never brought anyone here. It was your refuge, and you were letting Sam in hoping he would want it to be his too. It was a new feeling for you, wanting to share yourself like this. 

You handed Sam a mug of the hot chocolate you’d made and sat down next to him on the sofa tucking your leg beneath you. Sam took a sip then gave a little shake of his head and almost smiled. “I don’t remember the last time I had hot chocolate.” 

“If you don’t like it, I can make coffee.” You pulled your leg from beneath you and started to sit up.

Sam reached out and put his hand on your thigh stopping you. “No, I do. It’s perfect.” 

He took another sip as if to prove his point. When he finished, this time his smile was big. For right now at least, Sam didn’t look like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His dimples softened his face taking away the hard edge that was there too often from carrying the burden of knowing too much.

Sam took your cup from you and put both mugs down then cupped your cheek in his hand. He brushed his lips softly over yours, barely touching them before he kissed you with such an intense and tender passion you saw your life flash before your eyes, not as it was but as it could be. You saw the way it could be with Sam in it and how you could show him a little of the normal he had never known. You could feel Sam’s hand resting just below your waist on your hip. It was warm, solid, and strong. 

He stopped kissing you to look in your eyes slipping his fingers up into your hair. When he kissed you again, it was even slower and more deliberate. Sam’s tongue pushed against your lips seeking entrance, and you let him in. He held you and kissed away every doubt you’d ever had that you could be happy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of your cell phone ringing pulled you from your dream. You rubbed a finger over your lower lip, the feel of Sam’s mouth on yours still so real. The phone kept ringing pulling you back to now. You pulled it from your pocket. It was Dean. You dragged your finger across the screen to answer it. 

Dean got right to the point. “I think I know how to get Sam’s soul back.” 

“Sam’s soul is in hell, Dean. In...Lucifer’s cage.” Your voice broke on the words. “It’s not like we can just walk in there and get it.”

“We can’t, but Death can.” Dean outlined his plan. He was going to have someone stop his heart so he could see Death and make a deal. It was a long shot, but it was the only one you had. “I want you to meet me at Bobby’s, Y/N.”

When you ended the call, you sat staring at the phone for several seconds before you moved. Hope stirred in your heart, fueled by the vision of Sam sitting next to you on that sofa with that same hope lighting his eyes. You could hear him saying, “Thank you for bringing me here.” It has eased his pain if only for a little while, helping him forget the apocalypse loomed. 

Your hand reached out to the empty place next to you remembering how he’d looked with the firelight reflected in his golden hazel eyes. You whispered the words you wished you’d said to him. “I love you, Sam.” You could feel the prickling of determined tears behind your eyes, and you spoke again to the emptiness. “I’m going to tell you. You’re going to know.” 

You walked back to the bed and picked up your sketchbook. You picked it up and looked at the likeness of Sam you had drawn. “You are going to know. This is going to be okay somehow, and I’m going to bring you back here. You will know something besides struggle and pain. I swear it.” 

You tore the picture from the pad, folded it, and put it in your pocket. Your rain jacket was hanging on a hook by the door. You put it on and pulled the hood over your head. Then you walked out into the storm. You were going to bring Sam back, bring him home to you.

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67​ @waywardbaby​ @atc74​ @ledzeppelinsbonzo​ @shaniquacynthia​ @mariekoukie6661​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @67-chevy-baby​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @terrarium-jpeg​ @emoryhemsworth​ @crashdevlin​ @heycasbutt​ @jules-1999​ @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sammyimpala-67​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @mrs-meghan-winchester​ @timelordy-fangirl2​ @sweetness47​ @hobby27​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @gh0stgurl​ @neveratease​ @becs-bunker​ @sandlee44​ @supernaturalgrandma​ @lonewolf471​ @sea040561​ @dawnie1988​ @maddiepants​ @volleyballer519​ @outcastedangel​ @iknowwheremytowelis​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @oldfreakything​ @triiitoo​

Sam/Jared Love: @girl-next-door-writes​ @stunudo​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @idabbleincrazy​ @evansrogerskitten​ @focusonspn​ @i-joined-social-media-finally​ @wingledsam​ @autumninavonlea​ @spnxbsessed​ @durinsbride​ @deansyahtzee​ @wendibird​ @fantasy-shadows​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @waywardnerd67​ @neii3n​ @fullmooner​ @supernatural-took-me-over​ @julesthequirky​

[crescent-quill-writings]

The Best Way to Break Tradition

Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda

Words: 6784

Relationship: Thomas Jefferson/Hercules Mulligan

Additional tags: Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Smut, Morning After, Modern AU

A/N: (belated) Merry Christmas, everyone! Have a happy holidays and a hopeful New Year ^-^

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Well, we’re here… When does your flight depart?”

“In just about an hour. I should probably go, get through security before I end up late.”

“Yeah, I guess you should…”

Every year Thomas would drive James down to the airport to catch his flight down south. Every year Thomas would try to convince his best friend to stay for the holidays, and every year James would leave to be with his family. Every year they had this conversation, and every year it ended the same way.

It was like a strange, sad Christmas tradition.

“But you still have a little bit of time, right? Do you wanna grab a farewell coffee?”

“Thomas, don’t do this,” James sighed with a shake of his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My parents have invited me over for Christmas, everyone will be there. You know that family is complicated, I can’t just ditch them last minute.”

“And you know this isn’t easy for me,” Thomas refutes with a huff and a sharp glare that was met with crossed arms from James. “At least you’re wanted by them…”

James could only sigh again, his expression softening as he placed a hand on his friend’s arm. “They’ve always said they’d be more than happy to see you too. You don’t need to spend Christmas up here alone.”

“Family is complicated,” Thomas echoes, shaking his head as if it would physically rid him of the thought of his own family before beginning to get out of the car.

They went quiet again as James followed suit, waiting as Thomas retrieved his rolling suitcase and book bag from the trunk.

“Text me when you land?”

“Of course,” James affirmed with a nod as he took his bags. “I’ll be back just after New Years'.”

“Yeah, just like last year,” Thomas murmured with an awkward shift as he rubbed his arm. “Have a safe flight and a Merry Christmas and all that…”

James simply nodded in response as the two friends shared a final, awkward, and unsure parting glance. Thomas watched as James turned and began to walk away, not moving until the airport’s automatic doors had slid closed behind his friend.

He wasn’t sure why he always waited until James was out of sight. Perhaps he hoped that one of these years James would change his mind at the last minute, or maybe his flight would be cancelled and he’d have to stay another day.

Whatever Thomas wished for, it never came true. Just like the year before, he was always left alone as he slowly drove away.

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 A few days had passed since James had left for Virginia. Thomas never responded to any of the texts he sent, just staring at the well-wishes from down south and the photos of the Madison family’s celebrations.

With Christmas just around the corner, Thomas did his best to hide away from the holiday cheer. It was hard to be festive when you’d be spending the season alone.

“Junk, coupons, bill, junk…” He listed off his mail with a frown, flipping through the envelopes left at his door and tossing them onto his kitchen table. “… And this.”

Thomas paused as he turned the blue envelope over in his hands. He could recognize the handwriting on the back any day. It was an invitation from Lafayette to attend his annual Christmas party.

With a sigh, he moved to toss the letter in the trash. Another strange, sad Christmas tradition.

Even if Thomas knew, or at least assumed, what the invitation contained he decided to humour his foreign friend just this once. After all, what harm could some textbook holiday greetings and Christmas wishes do?

He slipped his finger under the edge of the envelope and ripped the blue paper open, tossing it in the trash. As he read, he wandered into the living room and found himself pacing in front of the fireplace.

 Mon beaux ami,

I know that you will most likely never read this like all the other years… Still, should you ever change your mind I am hosting a party for family and friends on Christmas Eve. There will be a buffet dinner, open bar, and as always, people who will be very happy to see you. All I ask is that you give it a chance. Perhaps it’ll be easier to enjoy the holidays with a companion, non?

Either way, I hope to see you at my house at seven o’clock sharp. Don’t be late!

Your friend, Gilbert

 Thomas stopped as he read over the last few lines, the paper crumpling around his fingers as his grip tightened. He’d never even considered that Lafayette took the time to personalize his invitation, nor that he would notice his absence when there were so many other people attending the party.

With a deep sigh, he rooted a hand in his curls, nodding slowly as he closed his eyes.

“Just this once… Just one little break in tradition.” He murmured to himself as he folded up the invitation and grabbed his keys.

Thomas had some Christmas shopping to do and there was only one place that’d be reliably open this late into the holiday season: the liquor store.

He knew he’d need to get something from the top shelf. It was the least he could do after all the years he’d missed. Lafayette liked sweet more than savoury, though he probably had enough wine from his home country to last a lifetime. Thomas figured a nice bourbon would do, or maybe something foreign and fancy-sounding like blue absinthe.

Thomas ended up buying both and picked up a box of Merci chocolates on his way home, just to be safe.

With a nice bag and a couple of bows, it would’ve looked like he planned this from the beginning. At least, that’s what Thomas hoped. He wasn’t sure if dessert and booze was the best way to make up for several missed Christmases, but it was the best shot he had.

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 Standing in front of Lafayette’s door with his last-minute present in one hand and the other raised to knock, Thomas still hesitated.

Luck would have it that the weather combined with a miscalculation of his GPS made him more than an hour late. Lafayette must have already assumed he wasn’t going to show up, meaning that Thomas couldn’t be sure how the Frenchman would react to him showing up. It was tempting just to turn around, forget he ever changed his mind and enjoy the booze and chocolates in the comfort of his own, lonely home.

“You’re a coward, Jefferson,” Thomas muttered as he closed his eyes, knocking on the door before he could second guess himself again.

While he waited for someone to answer he listened to the sounds of muffled conversation accompanied by occasional laughter. Whoever was inside seemed to be having a good enough time without him, and as the minutes passed with no answer he began to regret ever changing his mind about the holidays.

Just as Thomas began to turn away there was a click behind the door before it swung open. Standing there with surprise in his eyes was none other than Lafayette.

“Hi… Sorry I’m late--”

“Thomas!” The Frenchman cheered, pulling his friend into a hug that ended before it ever really began. “Do not apologize, I am just happy to see you. How long have you been standing here? Come inside, it is too cold to keep you waiting any longer.”

Thomas tried not to think too much about the hug, instead, he just smiled and let himself be happy about not having to stand out in the snow anymore. “I, uh, I got you something. It’s not much but it’s… something.”

Lafayette took the shin red bag the southerner was holding and tilted his head while he inspected its contents. “You just being here is more than enough. Let me take your coat, and please, make yourself at home.”

Thomas smiled a bit more as he shrugged off his coat, watching Lafayette walk off before he turned his gaze to the other guests.

He knew Lafayette had a big family and even larger social circles, but Thomas only recognize about a quarter of the people present. If he already felt like a third wheel, now he was no better than a stranger.

With a deep breath, Thomas slipped off his boots and tried to casually pass by the various congregations and conversations dotted around the room. He saw a drunken Alexander flirting relentlessly with a relatively sober Aaron Burr by the Christmas tree. He saw the Schuyler sisters chatting with Maria and a blonde that he assumed to be Adrienne, one of Lafayette’s childhood friends. He saw John Laurens ducking under Lafayette’s arm with a pair of champagne glasses while the Frenchman introduced him to a series of aunts, uncles, and cousins. It seemed that everyone had a friend, family member, or lover to spend their time with.

Everyone except Thomas.

With that spirit-lifting conclusion Thomas decided it best he made his way to the food and booze. He picked at some of the fondue options first, dipping a few strawberries and pineapple slices under the free-flowing chocolate before the sugar became too much. He went searching for something more savoury, only to find that either the other guests had eaten them all, or there were no savoury options to begin with.

“I knew Gil had a sweet tooth, but this is just excessive,” he muttered with a shake of his head as he turned his attention to the booze.

As he was looking through the alcoholic options, he found the bourbon and blue absinthe he’d brought with him to the party. He gave a dry laugh at the sight, shaking his head as he set down the blueberry wine he was considering and poured himself a glass of bourbon. He didn’t blame Lafayette for the decision he made, he couldn’t, and at least this way he wouldn’t feel guilty for drinking all of his friend’s booze.

It was stronger than wine anyways, and Thomas needed stronger.

He finished the first glass quickly and quietly, wanting to be drunk before he let himself try and enjoy the amber liquid. As he sipped at his second glass, he scanned the room again with a small frown. Even in a room full of happy faces and cheery conversation he was alone for the holidays.

At least he had good taste in bourbon.

As Thomas was wallowing in self-pity and jealousy a giant of a man began to approach. He browsed through his options with pursed lips, whistling when he noticed the bright bottle of blue absinthe.

The sound startled Thomas, his bourbon sloshing in his glass as he suddenly stood up straight and took in the stranger’s appearance.

Thomas had heard a lot of people described as being built like a tank but by god did this man live up to it. He was about a foot taller than Thomas, who stood at a clean 6’3” in his own right, with broad shoulders and muscular arms that could barely be contained by the classic ugly Christmas sweater he was wearing.

He realized he was staring when he made eye contact with the stranger, though the moment ended when he quickly tried to distract himself with his drink.

“Just when I thought this party could use a pick me up you show your stunning little face,” The stranger spoke as he grabbed himself a shot glass and uncapped the bottle of blue absinthe. Seeing Thomas’ confusion out of the corner of his eye he flashed the man a grin. “I was talking to the booze, not you. Unless you’d like me to call you stunning too.”

“Are you drunk?” Thomas blurts, a little put-off by how charismatically carefree the stranger was being.

“A little, but not as drunk as I will be,” He replied with a shrug before tossing back the shot and swallowing it without a quiver. “The name’s Hercules, by the way.”

“Thomas Jefferson.” The southerner introduced as he watched Hercules pour himself more of the blue absinthe to sip on. “Y’know, that stuff’s, like, eighty percent alcohol, right? It might be better to stick with the shot glasses.”

“Eh, I’m Irish, and this is a taste of home. I’ll be fine. Probably,” Hercules replied, flashing Thomas another one of his stunning grins. “Don’t know how Laf got his hands on it, though, haven’t seen any kind of absinthe since I moved over here.”

“I brought it, actually,” Thomas admitted with a small clear of his throat and a little smile, lowering his glass to meet Hercules’ gaze. “The liquor stores uptown keep some stock of fancy foreign-sounding things. Luck would have it I decided on that one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” The Irishman replied, taking a sip of his drink before he moved to lean against the wall with Thomas.

They were quiet for a few minutes, both sipping at their respective drinks as they watched the party unfold in front of them. Alexander and Aaron had started slow dancing, much to the former’s chagrin. John was sitting on Lafayette’s lap teasing him by telling stories to a handful of the Frenchman’s siblings and their significant others. Adrienne and Maria had found a quiet corner to talk in while Eliza sat back as Peggy and Angelica flirted with Lafayette’s cousins.

“They seem to be having fun,” Hercules commented after a moment, bringing Thomas’ focus back to him.

“Yeah, seems they are…” The southerner replied with a small sigh, watching his bourbon as he twirled his glass before taking another sip. “You could join them, have fun too.”

“And miss out on the show? No thanks,” Hercules replied with a rumbling laugh, tilting his head back as he sighed before slowly shaking his head. “Really, though, they all got their own thing going on. I’d just get in the way.”

“Aren’t they your friends?” Thomas asked, lowering his glass again as he tried to decipher the far-away look in the Irishman’s eyes.

“Well, sure. I’m their rock, the ‘dad friend,’ the one they go to when they need advice, but…” Hercules trailed off for a moment, hesitating to continue before he took a drink of the blue absinthe. “That’s kinda it.”

From the way Thomas’ brow had furrowed in confusion Hercules could tell that he didn’t quite understand. With a sigh, he began to motion between his friends that made up the various couples in the room.

“Alex couldn’t tell if he was obsessed with Aaron because of love or hate before I stepped in. I told John that Gil already adored him when he was freaking out ‘cause he thought his feelings were one-sided. The Schuyler’s- Well, they don’t really need my help, but they still like to hear my advice. And just tonight I helped Maria work up the courage to introduce herself to Adr- Adrie- Blondie over there. My job is done.”

“You forgot to save someone for yourself, is that it?” Thomas concluded with a frown, watching as Hercules began to nod.

“Basically, yeah. It’s kinda sad, isn’t it?” The Irishman commented with a dry laugh before he took a swig of his drink, nearly finishing it in one gulp. “I get all these couples together and at the end of the day I’m still alone.”

“I get the feeling, sort of,” Thomas admitted as he cleared his throat, regretting trying to follow suit and finish his bourbon in one go. “Mainly the alone part… this is my first time at one of these parties, actually. Usually, I just spend the holidays holed up at home.”

“Guess this year we get to be alone together,” Hercules hummed, grinning as he knocked their glasses together before tossing back the rest of his booze. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Yeah…” Thomas murmured, only taking a small sip of his bourbon as he began to space out.

Instead of calming his nerves, the alcohol only made his anxieties worse. The southerner couldn’t reason why he’d just shared some of his biggest fears with a man he just met or why Hercules had told him most of his. It had to be sympathy, or empathy, or pity or something else like it. He was drunk, not a thesaurus! Whatever it was, Thomas had convinced himself that it would only end in him getting hurt.

“Excuse me,” Thomas spoke as he abruptly set his glass down, already beginning to walk away from Hercules before he continued. “I should- I gotta go.”

“Wait, what? Why? Was it something I said?” Hercules began to ask, but his questions fell on deaf ears.

Thomas was already lost in an ocean of his anxieties as he rushed to the front door, bumping into a few people on the way as he stumbled past congregations and couples.

He was almost at the front door when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder and met with a pair of worried eyes.

“Thomas, is everything alright? You’ve gotten yourself in such a hurry…” the Frenchman commented with a sigh, reaching to cup Thomas’ cheek and focus his gaze before his hand was pushed away.

“Nothing I just- figured I should be getting home,” Thomas replied, hoping his words weren’t too slurred as he forced a smile. “The party was good- great. I’ll drop by again next year.”

“Mon beaux, wait. Please,” Lafayette begged, grabbing onto Thomas’ wrist before he could run any father. “I’m not going to let one of my friends try to drive home drunk in this kind of weather, it’s a death wish. Stay for the night, I insist. You can go home after breakfast.”

Before Thomas could come up with something in his defence Hercules was standing behind them, awkwardly opening and closing his mouth as he tried to find something to say. “Are you… Okay?”

“Everything is fine, mon nounours,” Lafayette filled in with a little smile, though there was a glint of something coy in his eyes. “I was just telling Thomas that he should rest before he ends up too hungover. Could you do me a favour and set him up in one of the guest bedrooms? The one right next to the master should be just fine.”

“Yeah, sure, I gotcha,” The Irishman replied with a clear of his throat and a nod, looking to Thomas with an apologetic smile before placing a hand on his shoulder and leading him away from the party.

As the sound of chatter and laughter slowly faded, Thomas wasn’t sure if he wanted to curse Lafayette or thank him. He was drunk and about to be alone with a very handsome man he somehow managed to personally connect with.

Things were about to go very, very wrong or very, very right.

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 Both Hercules and Thomas were quiet, awkward as they found their way up the stairs to the bedrooms. Neither were entirely sober and Lafayette’s house, which he inherited from some rich great uncle, was large enough to make it a task for them to find the guest bedroom the Frenchman had directed them to.

“I think this one’s it,” Hercules muttered as he scratched the back of his head. “Guess that means you’re all set for the night…”

“Yeah, guess I am,” Thomas murmured, voice breathy and barely above a whisper as he rubbed his arm.

He’d gotten scared earlier because Hercules had gotten close. Now that they had been pushed back together, the thought of coming so close to… something only to end up alone on Christmas Eve again was even more terrifying.

They both opened their mouth to speak at the same time, then they shut themselves up to let the other speak first. It made them laugh, the sound was nervous and awkward yet still genuine.

Thomas made a motion for Hercules to speak first, and the Irishman obliged.

“Listen, I don’t really know what happened downstair but I know I had to have done something, so,” He started, clearing his throat a little to give him time to figure out his next words. “I guess I’m trynna say sorry? You’re a good guy- a great guy and I made a shitty first impression and I really wish I had a do-over or something right now to make it up to you.”

Hercules was rambling, whether from the alcohol or because he was genuinely nervous Thomas couldn’t tell. Still, it made him smile as he placed a hand on the Irishman’s arm to calm him down. “You’re fine, you didn’t do anything I just… freaked. No real reason for it.”

It was a lie. A little white lie, but a lie nonetheless. If Hercules pried, he could probably blame it on too much booze. Thankfully the Irishman just sighed in relief before flashing Thomas one of those carefree, charismatic grins of his.

“Guess that settles it, then.”

Their resolution was mutual, but neither made a move to leave.

Thomas kept his hand on Hercules’ arm, trying to subtly feel the muscles beneath his sleeve as the Irishman grinned and took a step closer. Nothing was ever really subtle when you’re drunk, after all.

“Is this where we’re supposed to say goodnight? Go about our lives?” Thomas asked as he traced the colourful pattern of Hercules’ sweater, coaxing him into stepping closer.

“Supposed to and have to are two very different things,” Hercules replied with a low laugh, placing a hand on the southerner’s hip. “I mean, we’re adults, we can make our own decisions.”

“That’s true, so what do you want to do?” Thomas hummed, looking up to meet Hercules’ gaze, swallowing thickly as he watches his words ignite something in the Irishman’s eyes.

There was a moment of silence as Thomas licked his lips, tightening glancing down over Hercules’ broad chest as he pulled at his sleeve. The action made Hercules laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

In a moment Thomas was gasping as he was pushed back against the door and Hercules caught his lips in a hungry kiss. He gave into it. He gave more than he thought he could into a single kiss as he clung onto Hercules’ shoulders and lifted a leg to wrap around his waist. Hercules was more than happy to help, squeezing his ass as his hands hooked under the southerner’s thighs and lifted him up off the ground.

Before it would’ve scared Thomas how easily he preened under every touch and practically purred as Hercules tugged at his lower lip with his teeth. He was vulnerable, at the mercy of Hercules’ every little whim, and he was loving it.

Every moment they spent pressed together, tongues tangled as they tugged at each other’s clothes were just as intoxicating as the absinthe on the Irishman’s lips.

Thomas was left panting as Hercules broke the kiss to run his teeth over his ear and fumbled with the doorknob as the southerner tugged at his sweater. He gave his ass another squeeze as a tease before he dropped him on the bed.

Thomas couldn’t help but whine as he lost the contact he so desperately needed, only end up swallowing thickly as Hercules made quick work of his sweater.

“Like what you see?” The Irishman laughed as he flexed his arms above his head.

Thomas would be lying if he said anything other than a resounding yes. “Fuck. You could bench press me without even breaking a sweat!”

His comment made Hercules laugh again. It started as a low rumble in his chest before it turned into a hearty bellow that vibrated within Thomas’ core. “Y’know, of all the things I’ve heard, that’s a first.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Thomas asked, shifting onto his knees as the mattress bent under Hercules’ weight.

“Nah, it’s a good thing,” The Irishman reassured as he pulled Thomas into his lap and had him straddle his hips. “Means that you’re gonna make this fun.”

His comment made Thomas laugh this time, tucking his face into the crook of Hercules’ neck. The Irishman made an almost purr-like hum in response as he wrapped his arms tight around his waist and kept Thomas close even as he began to paint bitemarks and hickeys along his jaw and down from his pulse point. All the attention was wonderful, and by god did Thomas want more, but no matter how tempting it was to tilt his head back and let Hercules have at it he couldn’t bring himself to move.

A sob echoed in the room over the sound of lips and teeth against skin. Thomas wanted to ignore it, pressing closer to the Irishman to try and coax him into continuing.

He didn’t realize that the sob came from him until Hercules pulled back with worried-looking eyes.

“You doing alright?” He asked quietly as he began, hesitantly loosening his hold.

“Yeah, I’m just fine,” Thomas replied, forcing a smile as he pretended he didn’t have to swallow back another sob to keep his words from wavering. “We’re good, we’re great. Pretty as a peach.”

The southerner wasn’t entirely making sense and he knew it, but he needed Hercules to stay more than he needed to find the right words.

“Look, you don’t gotta lie just ‘cause you feel bad for leading me on,” The Irishman tried to explain, letting Thomas go and beginning to slide off the bed to give him the space he thought he needed. “I’ll go, let you get some sleep, forget this ever-“

“No!” Thomas cried, voice a little too loud as he scrambled to grab into something of Hercules’ to make him stay.

He ended up latching onto his wrist and, though his grip was tight, he knew he couldn’t stop the mountain of a man from leaving if he really wanted to. At the very least, it gave Thomas a chance to look Hercules in the eyes one more time as tears began to drip down his cheeks.

Hercules paused, watching Thomas’ expression for a moment before he sat down on the bed again. He reached out to wipe away a few of Thomas’ tears with his thumb, cupping his cheek in the process. He couldn’t expect the southerner’s reaction.

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, his tears now falling from his lashes as he leaned into Hercules’ touch as much as he could. He held Hercules’ hand to his cheek, lacing their fingers together as he pressed little kisses to his palm and inner-wrist.

“Just- stay. Please… I don’t care what else we do, just stay.”

Hercules hummed lowly in response, nodding as he shifted closer to Thomas and took hold of his waist again. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over a thing, I’m right here.”

Thomas gave a small nod in response, sniffling quietly as he tried to wipe away his tears staining his cheeks with his free hand. “I’m sorry… I killed the mood, didn’t I?”

Hercules shook his head, slowly laying Thomas back onto the mattress as he slipped his hands under the hem of his shirt. “I said not to worry, didn’t I? You’re just fine and still pretty when you cry too.”

His comment made Thomas laugh, the sound a little dry and mixed with a hitch in his breath, but a laugh nonetheless. Hercules took it as a sign he was good to go, pulling Thomas into another kiss as he began to unbutton his silk shirt.

He was being gentle this time, slower and sensual yet soft. For a moment, Thomas even felt cared for. It was a funny feeling, a foreign feeling, but Thomas allowed himself to relish in it as Hercules pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the floor.

Now with his chest exposed Hercules occupied his mouth with painting matching marks onto Thomas’ collarbone as his fingers hooked around the waistband of both his dress pants and his boxer-briefs. Thomas couldn’t help but whine, unsure whether he liked it more when Hercules’ lips were busy with his own or when they were sucking beautiful bruises into the skin just below his throat.

Either way, he wasn’t exactly pleased when Hercules suddenly stopped and realization flash across his expression.

“I was thinking we were gonna have to do this the old fashioned way, but…” he trailed off as he reached for the nightstand, feeling around in the drawers before his fingers wrapped around a small bottle of lube. “Horny bastards.”

Thomas couldn’t help but pout as Hercules began to laugh. As much as he loved the sound, he loved the attention and affection more.

“I might not be a bastard but I am horny, and I’m right here,” he muttered, still pouting as he pawed at Hercules’ chest and kissed at the corner of his jaw. “So, can we fuck now? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Hercules was still laughing, now because of Thomas’ little plea instead of whatever he found in the nightstand. “Keep that pout up and I might make you beg for real.”

“I bet you’d like that,” Thomas murmured, pressing his forehead into Hercules’ chest as he openly trailed his open palms up his arms and down his back. “What’s so interesting anyways?”

“Just something that’ll let us get to the real fun,” Hercules replied, teasing his lips down Thomas’ torso and tugging at his waistband with his teeth. “Wanna do me a favour and help me get these off?”

Thomas was almost too eager as he quickly kicked off his dress pants before he reached for Hercules’ fly, only to stop as Hercules ran his teeth along the edge of his Adonis belt. It sent a shiver up Thomas’ spine as he was made very aware of just how hard he was. He whined, reaching for something of Hercules’ to hold to distract him from the heat rising to his cheeks.

“I’m right here baby,” Hercules murmured, voice surprisingly soft for his size as he laced his and Thomas’ fingers together. “But if you want my dick you need to let me prep ya first… I’d hate to hurt you, after all.”

Though Thomas pouted in response with another whine he reluctantly let go of Hercules’ hand and laid back. He shifted a bit as Hercules spread his legs apart, swallowing thickly as he heard Hercules pop the cap off the bottle of lube.

He was needy and nervous and on fire and shivering all at the same time. He trusted Hercules, he really did, but being left open and vulnerable he felt like a virgin.

Thomas was certainly acting like it, after all.

He went tense as Hercules pushed the first finger in, a quiet hiss slipping past his lips as he clenched around him. They’d barely begun and already Thomas’ was finding it hard to breathe.

“Relax, you’re fine. This won’t hurt,” Hercules murmured, kissing down Thomas’ calf from his knee in an attempt to calm his nerves. “It just won’t feel as good if you don’t.”

Thomas huffed quietly in response, whining quietly again. Still, he managed to force the tension out of his muscles as Hercules began to work him open.

Hercules’ fingers were this and his pace was steady as he diligently worked Thomas open. He was right, it felt much better when Hercules wasn’t fighting against artificial tension.

Even with only one finger, Thomas was panting as he tried to stay still for Hercules. With the second he was moaning, squirming as Hercules began to push deeper and press against his prostate. With the third he was gasping, both in surprise and pleasure from the stretch. Hercules’ fingers were thick to begin with, he couldn’t begin to imagine how thick his cock must be.

Luckily he wouldn’t have to try and imagine for long.

“See? that wasn’t so hard,” Hercules muttered as he pulled his fingers out with a wet pop, watching with a grin as Thomas began to whine from the loss of contact. “Your dick, on the other hand…”

He trailed off as he gave Thomas’ length an almost playful stroke, earning a sweet and needy whine as he reached for Hercules again. “Please… I want you, need you. Just-“

“Shh, I’m right here,” Hercules murmured as he pulled Thomas into a slow kiss, giving him the attention he needed while Hercules stripped himself of the last of his clothes.

The sight of Thomas beneath him and his all-too beautiful moans were enough to get him hard. All it took was a pair of quick strokes to spread lube over his cock before he was lining up with Thomas’ entrance.

“Wait,” Thomas murmured as he placed a hand on Hercules’ shoulder before he could go any farther. Nervousness beat neediness. “Hold me?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Hercules murmured with a small laugh as he took Thomas’ hand from his shoulder and laced their fingers together. “This better?”

Thomas gave a hum in response as he let out a small sigh, relaxing under Hercules’ weight as he bit his lip in anticipation for what was next.

Hercules flashed Thomas one of those charismatic, carefree grins that made his knees go weak as Hercules squeeze his hand and began to push in.

Thomas didn’t have a chance to get a good look at Hercules’ cock earlier. He didn’t think it’d matter. Now, Hercules had barely pushed two inches into him and he was already left gasping at the burning of pain and pleasure that came with the stretch.

He wanted more.

“Hercules, please- Don’t tease me now…” he whined, beginning to pout again only for Hercules to catch his lips in a kiss.

Thomas was eager to kiss back as Hercules gave his hand a sharp squeeze, making him gasp. In a moment their tongues were tied together as Hercules rocked his hips to ease Thomas into the stretch as he pushed deeper.

He didn’t stop until he was buried deep in Thomas’ ass, pressing against all the right places as Hercules groaned lowly at the tightness.

“You feel good, baby… Makes me wish I met you sooner.” Hercules muttered through the kiss before nipping at Thomas’ lower lip.

Thomas opened his mouth to respond, panting quietly as he tried to find his words. A moan lingered in the back of his throat as he clenched and unclenched around Hercules’ cock. He was starting to adjust to the burning stretch as his muscled learned to accommodate Hercules’ sheer size. Still, each rock of his hips helped reignite the spark and draw another moan from Thomas’ lips.

It was game over when Hercules began the real fun.

The first thrust made Thomas moan into the kiss. Hercules didn’t even need to try to find his prostate when his cock was so thick it pressed against everything at once. The pace he set was steady and strong, making Thomas gasp each time Hercules bottomed out just to bring back the burn of stretched-out pleasure he was desperate for.

As a hot tightness began to pull at his gut Thomas could only gasp. He squeezed Hercules’ hand as he tried to follow his movements, hips beginning to buck under the pressure and pleasure that built up with the push and pull of Hercules’ cock.

“Ha- Herc! Hercules, please~” He practically purred as a shivering moan ripped through his throat. Part of him was desperate for the pressure to give way to something even better while another part of him wanted the burn to last forever.

Hercules was getting sloppy, each thrust now accompanied with a grunt and a creak of the mattress as he pinned Thomas’ hand down next to his hand. “What’s that now? You want something?”

Thomas could only nod in response as his free hand shot up to wrap around Hercules’ neck, pulling him down into another kiss. His movements were feverish even as he gave up control and Hercules’ strong arm lifted his hips up off the bed.

“Please, I wanna- I gotta-!” Thomas couldn’t get his words out, he didn’t even know what he was trying to say anymore.

All he could think about was the perfect burn of Hercules’ cock and the building heat that made him want to burst.

Hercules seemed to contemplate Thomas’ words for a moment even as his own endurance began to wear thin. He was panting, grunting, and even a few moans of his own slipped through with the low sounds of pleasure.

“Don’t hold yourself back, baby.”

Thomas didn’t need to hear anymore. The pressure and heat unravelled like a spring wound up too tight, sending a shock of sharp pleasure through Thomas’ system as he tightened around Hercules’ cock and made a sticky, hot mess of his stomach.

It didn’t take much more before Hercules came tumbling over the edge after him, hips suddenly stilling with a sharp thrust as he came with a groan.

They laid there as a tangled, sweaty mess as they tried to catch their breath between kisses. Eventually, Hercules pulled out and fell next to Thomas on the mattress, pulling him into his chest despite the mess they’d made of each other. Thomas preened as Hercules pulled him in for one last kiss. Even after everything, there was still a faint taste of absinthe on his lips.

Thomas was still clinging onto Hercules as they separated once more. He wanted him close, he wanted to keep those strong arms around him for as long as he lived. He hadn’t felt this hopeful about someone in a long time and as he and Hercules slipped into sleep, it was all he could think about.

Hope as sweet as this would make for a good Christmas tradition.

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 Lafayette hummed quietly to himself, drumming a little rhythm against his granite countertops as his Nespresso machine finished his perfectly brewed morning coffee. It was Christmas morning and while most of his guests had gone home after the snowstorm blew over a few were resting in his various guest rooms.

As he took his festive mug from the machine and began to search his cupboards for the cinnamon sugar, he heard the sound of running water from somewhere upstairs. The Frenchman smiled to himself at the sound, knowing breakfast would be soon.

As he passed by his oven, he made sure to preheat the grill. Christmas morning crepes were one of his specialties, after all. Some of his guests stayed the night just to have a taste of the delectable breakfast treats the next morning.

While he waited Lafayette took a seat at the breakfast bar, taking a slow slip of his French vanilla latte and smiling the added hint of cinnamon. Perfect as always.

He heard two sets of footsteps start to come down the stairs together, a smirk pulling at the Frenchman’s lips at the sound. He stood, moving around to the other side of the counter and leaving his latte behind. Lafayette pretended not to have noticed the approaching pair as he busied himself with preparing the batter.

When he heard the stools shift as two more people took a seat at the breakfast bar he turned around with a sweet smile. “Bon matin, mes amis! Did you sleep well?”

Hercules gave a small grunt as Thomas mumbled some unintelligible response. They both looked tired despite having a full night's sleep, obviously hungover.

Thomas seemed to be a little more careful with himself as he sat down, shaking some water droplets from his curls. Hercules, well, he was shirtless and not-so-subtly smirking at how Thomas crossed one leg over the other as he tried to find a way to sit comfortably.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lafayette replied, smiling more at the sight and humming under his breath to pretend he was simply happy because it was Christmas. “I am glad you two made friends. That is what you did, non?”

“You could call it that, yeah,” Hercules muttered with a low laugh as he stretched his arms above his head. Considering he was shirtless and still damp from the shower, it was quite the sight.

Thomas was trying not to stare, lowering his head into his hands as he rubbed his eyes. “Uhm… Breakfast, coffee! Are we gonna be able to have either of those?”

“Very soon, mon beaux,” Lafayette replied, a coy twinkle appearing in his eyes as he rested his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his folded hands. “But first, I think you two have some secrets to spill~”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 35

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 35: It’s Christmas time but Tommy can’t put on a happy face for the holidays.

        “’N then Santa comes ‘n he brings presents. He’s gotta car that flies ‘cause it’s got horses.”

           “It’s not a car and they aren’t horses.” Charlie corrected his sister from his spot on the couch. He was reading a picture book as Johanna sat on the floor with Molly. The infant had just learned to sit up on her own and was enjoying the new view of the world. Her bright eyes fixed on the glowing fire and the way the flames reflected off the ornaments on the tree. Gold and silver baubles hung perfectly by her siblings and mother. Molly was also getting a hang of her motor skills. It was unfortunate for anyone with hair because she appeared to like tugging on anything she could get near.

           “Ya-huh they’re horses.” Johanna frowned at her brother.

           “Horses don’t fly.”

           That seemed to throw the little girl for a loop. True, she’d never seen a horse fly before.

           Charlie turned the book around to show her a picture of Santa on his sleigh. “Horses don’t have horns.”

           Johanna studied the picture. “Then what are they?”

           “Mum, what’s that word?”

           Leah paused from fixing the stockings on the mantle and glanced at the word. “Reindeer. They guide Santa’s sleigh.” She explained.

           “Rain-deer.” Johanna sounded the word out with a furrowed brow. “So, Santa’s got Rain-deers ‘n he comes to every one's house and gives ‘em presents. But you hafta to be good.”

           Molly yawned and leaned forward to try and grab her sister’s skirt.

           Tommy walked into the room and smiled. “Who wants to help?” He held up the plate of cookies and carrots.

           “Me, me, me!” Johanna jumped up.

           “You too, Charles, c’mon.” Tommy walked over to the fireplace with them. “Put these out for Santa and the reindeer.”

           Johanna carefully placed the plate down by the hearth. “Why does Santa like cookies?”

           “And whiskey?” Charlie set the crystal glass by the plate.

           “Because Santa has good taste.” Tommy picked up Molly and kissed her cheek.

           Leah laughed softly. “I think it’s getting late. Santa’ll be here very soon.”

           “And he can’t come ‘till you’re all asleep.” Tommy reminded them.

           “Why?” Johanna tugged on her father’s pant leg.

           “Because he’s shy.” He made up on the spot and touched her shoulder. “Go upstairs with brother and start getting ready.” Charlie hopped down from the couch and chased his sister upstairs.

           Leah smiled and went to kiss Tommy on the cheek. They were walking on shaky ground but they were still standing. That’s all that mattered in that moment. The next day the Shelby-Gray family would arrive to celebrate with them and meet Molly for the first time. It was almost good that they came back on the holidays. The high-spirits seemed to ease the transition back into Arrow House.

           “I’m going to have Frances bring out the presents in an hour,” Tommy said. “They should be asleep by then.”

           “I don’t think they’ll sleep much. Johanna was telling me how excited she was.” Leah bent down to pick up one of the cookies the kids left behind. She handed Tommy his whiskey as well.

           “I’m glad to be home,” Tommy said. “Back home with you and them.”

           Molly began to nod off in his arms, resting her cheek on his shoulder, her eyes sliding closed.

           “For a moment I thought you’d never want to come back to me.” He admitted. “I thought I’d have to stay in Boston.”

           Although it may have been morbid, Leah was curious. “What if I didn’t want you back?” She wondered. “Would you have left without me?”

           “No.” He shook his head. “I’d just move Shelby Company Limited headquarters to Boston. Even if you didn’t want me anymore, I wouldn’t be able to leave you and the children behind. Told myself I weren’t coming back here without me family.”

           Leah bit her lip and touched his cheek. “It was hard for the both of us.” Even though time had passed, she wouldn’t apologize for the move to America. Perhaps there was a more tactful way about it but she wouldn’t apologize for her mother’s instinct. “I’m glad we’re all together now too. And we don’t have to worry about anything right now.”

           Tommy smiled. “Alright, Mrs. Shelby, got to get you to bed or Santa’s not going to bring you gifts.” He teased and swept her up off her feet to carry her upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

           The next morning, the children tore into the pile of gifts. Cyril picking up the wrapping paper and toting it around. Tommy watched from the sofa with a smile on his face. As far as he’d climbed, sometimes he forgot why he did it. There were various reasons, sure, but one of the reasons was he wanted a better life for his kids. Every Christmas they would wake up to as many presents as they could ever imagine.        

           As a child, he didn’t expect presents. He wanted Charlie, Johanna, and Molly to expect to be taken care of because they always would be. They would be taken care of even long after Tommy was gone.

           Later on, they hosted dinner in the evening for the Shelby-Gray family. A little bit before everyone arrived, Tommy realized what a massive mistake he was making. It hit him like a massive brick to the stomach. The mystery hadn’t been solved yet of who sold out his assassination plan. As far as Tommy was concerned the only person who was off the hook was Leah.

           Now he was inviting the suspects into his house for the holidays.

           Anxiety began to creep up on him as the time came. Polly arrived first with Michael and Gina. Along with them was Polly’s first grandchild all bundled up.

           “Auntie Pol!” Johanna squealed happily and ran to the door.

           “There she is, look how big you’ve gotten!” Polly exclaimed and scooped her up. “So beautiful, you look just like your father.”

           “I got a pony for Christmas!”

           “Really?”

           “A rocking-horse.” Leah corrected quickly. “We’re not ready for a real one yet.” She smiled.

           Tommy stood back, eyeing his cousin as he entered and introduced his son to Leah and the kids. There was no level of trust in the foyer between them. At least on Tommy’s end. He noticed Gina side-eye him and his senses heightened. Immediately he noticed the purse on her side and how close she was standing to his son.

           “Where’s the little one?” Polly asked.

           “Oh, I was just nursing, she’s sleeping upstairs.” Leah offered to let her upstairs.

           “I’ll get her.” Tommy moved toward the stairs, blocking their way.

           “If she’s sleeping, I’ll just peek in.” His aunt shook her head.

           “She’ll be up soon enough.” Tommy didn’t want anyone alone with the children. There was no way.

           Polly and Leah exchanged a look but let him go upstairs to fetch Molly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Everyone else arrived and Tommy’s nerves only got more and more frayed. All the little children were running around together. The little babies were being passed around from person to person to be held. Ada’s daughter, Gina’s son, and Molly never being set down for a moment.

           It was anxiety-inducing to Tommy because he wanted to keep track of his children just in case he had a black cat in his home. But eventually, Molly was being held out of his view and Charlie and Johanna had gone upstairs to show Karl and Billy their new toys.

           Panicked, Tommy found Leah talking to Ada. “Where are the kids?”

           “They’re playing.” She replied. “Why?”

           “Where?” He demanded.

           Ada looked alarmed at her brother’s frantic nature. “Tom, have a drink, you look tired.”

           Ignoring his sister, he looked over Leah’s shoulder to see who else was absent. Who might’ve taken his children? Who might have them hostage with a gun to their head?

           He began to hyperventilate. He pushed past Ada and began searching through the rooms. “Charles?” Haunting flashbacks hit him fast. Searching frantically through the orphanage, ripping at the locked doors, nearly passing out when he realized his son was kidnapped.

           “Tommy!” Leah left Ada’s side and ran to follow him.

           “Charles!” He hurried upstairs and nearly ran right into his son in the hallway. He was pretending to fly around the toy airplanes he’d gotten with Karl.

           “Dad?” The young boy skidded to a halt. “What?”

           Tommy dropped to his knees and pulled Charlie in his arms.

           Leah got to the landing and paused. “Tom?”

           “Dad, stop.” Charlie protested and tried to wriggle out of his arms. He didn’t want to look coddled in front of his older cousin.

           “Tom, c’mon.” Leah helped her husband up, coaxing him to let go of Charlie. “Come talk to me.”

           “Is Johanna up here?”

           “Hi, daddy.” Johanna came out of her bedroom with Billy.

           “They’re fine, Tommy, come talk to me.” Leah linked arms with him and brought him down the hallway to their bedroom. “Go back to playing, dinner’ll be out soon.” She said to the kids. They looked confused but nodded and went back into Johanna’s room.

~~~~~~~~~~

          Tommy was practically hysterical. He couldn’t stand still even as Leah tried to get him to sit down on the bed and take a breath.

           “Someone’s gonna take him. They’ll take him like they took him before. Like they took you. They’ll take the girls too.” His speech was unlike Leah had ever heard before. Far from the even-toned man with a deep voice. She had seen him break down but never before did he show his vulnerability through his voice. It was like his last line of defenses were crumbling down.

           “Tommy, please, you’re scaring me.” She grabbed him by the arms and tried to steady him.

           “What do I have to do to protect my family?” His voice rose in volume.

           “The kids are just down the hall, please just try to stay calm.” She pulled him toward the bed but he resisted her.

           “It shouldn’t be this fucking difficult!” He shouted.

           Tears began to spill from Leah’s eyes. Perhaps they were too naïve to think things would remain so calm. She wished she had managed to keep Tommy happy. Happy enough that he wouldn’t have had to go after Mosley. But she paused halfway through the thought.

           “I told you…” She whispered tearfully. “I told you things could be okay if you just stayed home. You didn’t have to go into Parliament. You didn’t have to do everything you did. The kids and I were enough for you, Tommy, why couldn’t you realize that?” She whimpered.

           He stilled long enough to look at her. “Leah…”

           “Maybe the reason someone betrayed you was because you keep pushing everyone away.” She continued.

           “You’re fucking blaming this on me?” He demanded.

           “I’m blaming this on the man who came back from the War and decided he was going to rule Birmingham. I’m blaming the man who decided Birmingham wasn’t enough. I’m blaming the man who wanted to rule London, then Parliament, and now the whole fucking country it seems! I’m blaming the man who won’t step away from a fight because his pride is too big. Too big he can’t even see the people who would take a bullet for him.”

           “Well, that’s who I am,” Tommy replied after a long pause.

           “No, it’s who you want people to think you are. But you’re so much more, Tommy. You’ve always been so much more.”

           He didn’t respond to her. Instead, he rubbed his eyes wearily and held back tears.

           “You need someone to talk to. Someone other than me.”

           “Not going to a fucking doctor.” He muttered back to her.

           “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying.” Leah would’ve liked to get Tommy some professional help, but she was afraid what the consequences might be if she did. “I’d like to go back to Margate with the children.”

           Tommy lifted his head with a frown. “I ain’t talking to Alfie.”

           “Well, I don’t think he’ll give you much of an option.” She smiled faintly and kissed his forehead. “Please.” She whispered against his skin. “Please just give me this.”

           Closing his eyes, Tommy lifted a hand to the nape of her neck and held her close. “Okay.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           “Mr. Alfie!” Johanna shrieked happily as she burst out of the car to meet the man at the door.  

           “Hello Joey, lookit you, grown much bigger, haven’t ya?” Alfie chuckled and scooped her up. “Oof, can barely carry you anymore!” He exclaimed.

           Charlie and Cyril ran to greet Alfie as well.

           “I lost a tooth!” Johanna bared her teeth to show him.

           “So, you did. That’s impressive, mighty impressive. And how ‘bout you Charles? Keeping good care of Cyril?”

           “Yeah, look he learned to shake my hand!” Charlie said proudly. He demonstrated the trick, having the bullmastiff sit. He held out his hand so Cyril would place his massive paw in it.

           “Wouldya look at that.” Alfie chortled. “’Fore you know it he’ll be up walking ‘round like a human.”

           Charlie and Johanna laughed at the idea of Cyril prancing around on his hind legs.

           Tommy brought out their luggage with Leah in tow. Molly was asleep in her arms.

           “And here’s the newest Shelby. What’s the name then?” Alfie asked, setting down Johanna so she and Charlie could run inside.

           “Molly Shelby.” Leah smiled.

           “Molly Shelby, very nice.” Alfie turned to Tommy. “How’ve you been, Tom?”

           The man wasn’t in the right mindset to even try and be cordial to his former business partner-friend-enemy-whatever the hell Alfie Solomons decided to be. “I think you know.”

           “Right, right, you had a bit of trouble tryna kill that fascist, didn’t you?” Alfie cocked his head to the side with a bit of a simpering look.

           Tommy gritted his teeth and felt like strangling the man. But Leah stepped between them. “I’m a bit hungry, Alfie could I make something in the kitchen?”

           “Hm? Oh yes, of course, love, go on ahead.” Alfie crossed his arms over his chest and waited for a beat after Leah went inside. “So, think you’d like to talk?”

           “I have a feeling you won’t leave me the fuck alone if I say no,” Tommy muttered.

           “Want to go down to the beach or are you going to shoot me again and blind me other eye?”

           “Just fuck off, Alfie.” Tommy snapped and began to walk down the bluff to the beach.

           Johanna wanted to go down to the beach but Leah said they needed to eat lunch first. So, she went to make lunch with Alfie’s maid while Molly slept in her bassinet and the other two children explored the sitting room.

           Their mother told them not to touch any of Alfie’s belongings. Out of respect but also she didn’t know exactly what sort of things the man had in his collection of oddities. Still, the little treasures collecting dust on the cabinets were too interesting to keep from looking at.

           Charlie climbed up on the fainting couch to view a miniature ship in a bottle. Johanna went out to the balcony and peered down to see her father and Alfie speaking to one another. Yet the ocean waves were too loud and they were too far away for her to hear what they were saying. She turned and went back into the room.

           “Charlie?”

           “What?”

           “Why was daddy upset on Christmas?” She climbed up onto Alfie’s big armchair. “He seemed sad.”

           Charlie glanced over at his sister. “I don’t know.”

           “But he was hugging you.” Johanna reached over to a cabinet and picked up what looked like a shark’s tooth.

           “Put that down.” Charlie scolded and grabbed her wrist. “Mum told us not to touch anything.”

           “What is it?” She reluctantly dropped the object.

           “I don’t know.”

           “Where’d it come from?”

           “I don’t know!” Charlie replied in exasperation. “How should I fucking know?”

           Johanna’s eyes widened and she gasped. “Tha’s a naughty word!”        

           Charlie realized his mistake. The boy had been raised around the word being dropped frequently. Although everyone told him not to say it or other words that were thrown around like ‘shit’ or ‘damn’ or ‘arse’ or ‘bloody’ or ‘hell’. Still, Charlie and Karl often flung the words around when they were playing with one another. It made them feel grown up and like their family. But Charlie knew not to say in front of Johanna or no doubt she would tell their mother.

           “Shhhh, Jo, sh!” He tried to hush her before Leah heard.

           “But-”

           “I know I’m not s’posed to say it. But don’t tell mum.” Charlie pled in a low voice.

           “But mummy says we can’t say it!” Johanna, always out to please her parents, was unnerved at the idea of lying.

           “We can’t say it. It just slipped out. Just-I’ll do anything if you don’t tell mum.” He begged.

           A mischievous smile formed on Johanna’s face. “Anything?”

           Charlie sighed. “I s’pose. What do you want?”

           “I want chocolate.”

           “We’re ‘bout to have lunch. ‘Sides I dunno if Alfie has chocolate anywhere.” Charlie replied. "Mum told us not to snoop here."

           “There’s a candy store,” Johanna remembered last time she and Leah had gone into town to buy a few things.

           “Where?”

           “I know where.” Johanna hopped up and went for the door.

           “Hang on.” Charlie paused. He wasn’t sure they were supposed to leave the house without Leah, Tommy, or even Alfie. But sometimes he and Karl were allowed to go down the street by themselves. He felt old enough to walk into town and as long as he was watching Johanna, what could go wrong? “Wait here.” He grabbed their coats and found Leah’s purse. He dug inside and pulled out a couple of coins to purchase the candy for his sister.

           Donning their coats, the two left out the front door without anyone realizing they’d left.  

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[therealprincesszeanah]

Shelf History Challenge

I was tagged by @the-forest-library to participate in this, which I think is a lovely challenge.

❀ This tag is for those books that came to you in an unusual, interesting, funny, or sweet way. Pick 5 (or more if you want) books from your shelf and tell us the story of how you came to own that book. If you’re a public library user and don’t really own any books, you can still participate. Just tell us the most interesting/funny/sweet ways you came to find a particular library book. ❀

1. This old beat up copy of Jane Eyre. I bought it as a wee lass (~12 years ago) when I went with my pal @imanniekat to visit her family in Kentucky. Her aunt has an antique store where I found this on the shelves and purchased it. I remember that same day going back to her grandma's and reading it aloud to her and her cousin and getting giggles over "hither and thither". I used this copy years later when we had to read it in high school, hence the post-its. Unfortunately the binding peeled away and the pages became very loose after that, so I bought a newer copy to read from, but I can't bring myself to part with my original copy. I still hold this book in a special place in my heart. I know it's problematic, but don't come for me, okay? It's so nostalgic.

2. Another old copy of another fave, Les Misérables. One of my best friends bought this for me as a Christmas gift because she saw it at an antique store and just knew she had to get it for me, which honestly blew my mind in the best way. I gasped when I opened it. This is purely for the aesthetic though; I own the Penguin Classics verison to actually read from.

3. This Scots edition of the first Harry Potter book. My brother brought it back for me when he went to Europe/the UK with his students a few summers ago. It's a fun addition to my Harry Potter collection and I love having a copy that says "The Philosopher's Stone".

4. This 3 volume set of The Count of Monte Cristo my brother brought back from France. It's in French and my reading comprehension of the language is elementary level at best so, but it's the thought that counts.

5. Last but not least my copy of Little Men I got at a garage sale in college. I bought it from a woman who had also majored in English at my university years before which I thought was a fun coincidence and very fitting.

Thanks again Mable for tagging me in this one! I'll tag @imanniekat and @bookshelvy if you two are up for it. No pressure though!

[softschofield]

the convoy boys (before and) after the war, part two - malky ♡

part one (rossi and cooke): x

parry/malky: x

moodboard: x

malky is the one to struggle the most after the war, though none of his friends ever know until he off-handedly and sweetly mentions the full extent of his trauma and they’re all taken aback by the pure horror of it. 

he’d been one of the few to come from a happy home: his whole family living in two-up-two-down row houses on the same street in newcastle-upon-tyne, his parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins; a neighbourhood who knew and loved him, stores run by people who’d watched him grow up, a family that numbered half the city; christmases where the whole neighbourhood would bring their dining room tables out onto the street for one big party if the weather was fair, and where they’d cram into each other’s houses for singing and dancing and joyous, clumsy piano performances if the weather was snowy. 

those christmas gatherings were noisy, beautiful things; his parents would let him have a little glass of brandy, and it would fall to him to watch over the younger children and play with them, and often a cheer would go up somewhere near midnight and he’d be encouraged to plod out a few bad piano songs with his half-year training (that his parents had pooled their savings into) so everyone could sing along; and once it got late and the adults started to get drunk, malky would find a spare seat on the couch and watch the chaos with a shy, happy little smile and feel the warmth in his heart at the sight of all these people he loved and who loved him. 

his childhood was warm, and soft, and happy, and crowded. he was never lonely, but he was also never alone, and so he came to love and value quiet, peaceful moments by himself. he found a love for pressing flowers, one that came to mean calm and softness, and his bedroom was always filled with flowers, and he’d walk for hours along the river and through meadows and woods. when he was sixteen, he started working at a book binder’s for a half-deaf, grumpy old man, and that peace, that being able to just work at something in the quiet for hours at a time, became something he loved with all his heart. 

when the war came around, he was still living in his childhood bedroom with his parents. he’d never had any reason to want to move out; he was happy, and to all the neighbourhood he was still the baby of the family. he wanted to do his duty, in a vague, half-formed, guilty sort of war - he wanted to help his country, wanted to have an adventure, wanted to make new friends. but he never really expected to enlist, knew it would break his parents’ hearts. 

then conscription was introduced in 1916, and he had no choice. he was called up, assigned to the worcestershire regiment at random, given a few months of training that tore at the soft skin of his hands that were never made to fire a rifle, and shipped off to france as a replacement. 

almost immediately he and rossi formed a bond. malky had never had to go very far out of his way to make friends - in newcastle, you fell over them almost by accident wherever you went - and he was a little overwhelmed at the front. that first night, with shells rumbling in the distance and boys murmuring in the dark around him and little fires hidden under raincoats to avoid being seen by german planes, malky wandered between the little groups aimlessly. he’d catch the eye of someone, and smile hopefully and start to walk over to them, only to have them turn away and go back to talking to someone else. he’d hover over a group and try to think up something to say, and be snapped at. he wandered, helpless and dispirited and blushing, until a boy sitting by himself beside a little fire called him over in a gruff, quiet voice. there was nothing wrong with him, no reason he’d be by himself - he could have been the centre of a group if he’d wanted to be. but, evidently, he didn’t want that. 

and so, malky and rossi became the founding members of the convoy boys - because rossi, patron saint of waifs and strays, of the unwanted and the mocked and the outcasts, had called malky over. he’d mostly expected to be annoyed by the boy, to just keep him company for the evening until he got more settled in and could stand on his own two feet; and when malky first sat down beside him at the fire, where rossi was fiddling away at a part of a radio from headquarters, he’d hardly looked at him. but malky, gentle and unexpectedly witty in a delightfully deadpan way and northern to the core, had quickly established himself as an equal, and from then on it was malky and rossi. 

after that, they’d adopted others into their little group and taken them under their wing - cooke, too insecure and too desperate to prove himself to easily make friends; butler, too stand-offish and idealistic; jondalar, for obvious reasons. jondalar quickly became a leader of the group, and even he didn’t entirely realise that malky another of them - he was more than happy to settle into the background, to let others take centre stage, but he was no less one of the three leaders, one of the hearts of the group: he was the comforter, the one who gently soothed and patched up small wounds, the one who listened when someone had to break away from the group and stumble into the dark and weep about home and all the horror and trauma looming over them, the one who held them when they needed a soft, tender touch.

and then, after the war, he realised that while he’d been doing that for everyone else, no one had been doing it for him. he suffered afterwards in a similar way to kilgour - but while kilgour was aware of his own trauma, while he tried to hide it with cheerfulness and big smiles and the complete dismissal of his pain, malky was genuinely unaware that there was something wrong with him. he tried to go back to his old life, tried to slot right back into that world of noise and warmth and claustrophobic, stifling joy. his friends, his family, his cousins, his aunts, his neighbours - they were all over him, and for the first time in his life, he realised, with such a flash of horror that it made him sick, that he didn’t want to be touched. that he flinched at the sound of a train horn. that his heart was always thundering and frantic. that there were dark rings under his eyes. that the flowers on his walls made him feel hemmed in, and that he wanted to reorganise his bookshelf at 3am because he had to do something, anything, had to open a window, had to clean, had to repaint the dining room walls.

and it wasn’t that he felt he had to be someone for all the people who had known him - it’s that he honestly, genuinely, did not realise he was suffering from trauma. he thought that, now that the war was over, he could move on, and start a new chapter, and go back to smiling, to evening walks in summer, to giving piggy back rides to his young cousins. he thought he’d be alright. 

while he was in this confusing state of turmoil, this state of smiling happily through the day and not understanding the mess he became at night, he kept up his letters to his friends. sweetly. cheerfully. religiously. it’s a nice habit, he thought; i don’t understand it but i feel like i’m coming apart at the seams and this is the only thing holding me together, he meant. one by one they stopped writing him back, but that didn’t matter. he kept sending them.

he got his old job back at the book binder’s. didn’t last. he’d sit down at his desk and look at the clock and it was 10am, and then he’d just stare at nothing for a few minutes, losing himself in a soundless haze with his pulse in his ears, and he’d blink and it was 4pm. the old man fired him after a week and he stumbled out onto the street in a tearful daze. 

and that’s how his life went for months: happy, smiling, cheerful, and frantically tearing apart down the middle while all he could do was watch. blindly trying to stitch himself back up with soft coloured wool that just fell to bits at his touch, and stirring himself into a horrible frenzy of confusion and fear and sunshine.

then came the letter from cooke, telling him to come down to london. then came parry. then came healing. 

when he returned to newcastle, he was still broken - but he understood that that’s what it was, and his smile was a little more genuine for finally having a diagnosis, for knowing that life itself wasn’t fracturing, for knowing there could be an end to it, for knowing there’s hope. rossi was the only reason he was staying in newcastle, because it wasn’t terribly far from scotland and it made him feel close to him even when only silence greeted his letters. when rossi made the move to london, malky followed him. he smiled around at his childhood bedroom and breathed in the smell of it one last time before he closed the door, and he lugged his suitcase down the staircase and left it by the front door - and that evening, the whole street is alive with celebration. 

his parents cry, but they know that if it will make him happy, if it’s right, then he has to go - and all the neighbourhood will miss him, but they don’t lament it: they turn it into a celebration of a new chapter in his life. lanterns are hung throughout the street, and the tables are brought out, and people wheel their pianos out, and the warm evening air is alive with music and laughter, and everyone wants to dance with malky - most of all his kid cousins, which is an adorable sight - and he’s smiling and laughing just as much as he’s crying, and it’s happy. 

and as night falls, he hugs everyone he loves, and tells them he’ll visit and write every week and send photos, and his mother tells him she’s proud of him and hugs him the longest, and as he picks up his suitcase and walks to the train station, the whole street goes with him - skipping along at his side, and singing, and cheering, like a huge procession through the streets of newcastle. people come out of their homes and poke their heads out of windows to watch - and there’s malky, at the head of it all with his suitcase and a hundred people who love him all around him, and he’s laughing and sobbing at the same time, and it’s magical. it’s beautiful. it’s family. it’s home. 

they wave him off at the platform and laugh and cheer and blow kisses, with kids sitting on their parents’ shoulders and a little yapping dog perched on someone’s head, and then the train is pulling away, and he leans out the window to wave at them for as long as he can; and once he can’t see them anymore, he sits back in his seat and just cries - not only because he’s going to miss them, but because he’s so happy, he’s so overwhelmed, he’s so full of love. and when the crying stops, all that’s left is a dopey smile on his face and red, swollen eyes, and his chest full of warmth and light as air.

all his friends meet him at the station in london, and they’re just as much a home as the one he left. he gets a job as a baker and he loves it: his customers line up early every morning to get his pastries, and also to talk to the sweet, bashful baker with the shy, kind eyes and happy smile; in turn, he loves all his regulars and always comes out to the till to serve them and chat with them and wish them a good morning at work. he’s the highlight of their day and they his, and his friends just listen with befuddled, patient expressions where he gushes quietly about what his customers are up to - because malky is the one none of them tease. he’s too gentle for that. 

and he’s happy!!!! he does a lot of quiet healing (much of it at scho’s cottage in cookham when he mentions he’d love to see the countryside, and then it just becomes a tradition to go there once a month), and arranges flowers in his flat to clear his head, and takes up knitting as stress relief and knits blankets for all his friends, and he’s happy. and i love him. so much. 

[caerwynherondale]

Wedding Bells

Caerwyn bounced on the toes of her stockinged feet, unable to stay still as she walked the length of her bedroom and back again, steps muffled by the carpet. She wrung her hands together, peeking up at the blue, cat shaped clock on her bedside table, the hands drifting silently across the face of it. She hated ticking clocks, the noise drove her batty, so this one had been a blessing when her parents had found it for her when she’d been about six. They could have simply gone with a digital one, but Caerwyn liked the classic look of the numbers and hands, in this case, each minute increment was marked by a tiny paw print and the numbers white on top of black cat head silhouettes. It was super cute, making her smile in that way girls who liked cute things did when they saw them. Most wouldn’t have pinned Caerwyn for liking adorable things like that, but she did. She supposed the only people who knew were her family and Rose, though, Louis may have picked up on it by now considering her usual go-to purse was shaped like a bunny.

“Winnie, I swear to fucking god...” Cleo, the girl’s sister spoke up from where she laid on her bed. The pair couldn’t have been any more different from one another. Caerwyn’s hair was inky and her body shapely while Cleo’s hair was light and she was skinny. At the moment, Cleo was on her stomach, knees bent, legs swaying as her ankles crossed and she perused whatever magazine she was currently interested in. She was on spring break from her school was well, but it wouldn’t have mattered either way considering she went to one of the local high schools and lived at home throughout the year instead of boarding like Caerwyn did. She had actually been quite excited to see Caerwyn when the girl had gotten off the train, showing it with the way she grabbed at her sister’s hand and dragged her along to the car without a single word. The past winter break had been the first they’d ever really spent apart and while they didn’t get along on a regular basis, Christmas time had always been a very important thing for their family. Not having one of them home had been kind of a big deal actually.

Carnegie had been even more thrilled to have Caerwyn home, clinging onto her the moment she walked through the door and refusing to leave her side even at bedtime for the first couple of days. She’d let him sleep in her bed, curled up against her stomach, a little warm package of heat. She loved it, his blond hair smelling still of newness and baby shampoo, his fingers slightly sticky in that way all little kids seemed to be. He was five now, having had his birthday a couple months back and he had even more to talk about now than ever. He’d jabbered on about everything under the sun. His favorite toys, his friends and teachers at school, all of the new things he was learning, and showing off how he could read simple worded books now.

As far as Caerwyn’s parents went though, things were still… strained to say the least. She was happy to see them, to have their loving arms around her and hear her dad’s dry jokes, but there was still that lingering sensation of worry underneath. The discussion they had had over the winter break was still fresh in her mind, but they had promised her that it wouldn’t be a subject they talked about this time. They would simply enjoy the holiday together. Both of her parents had been a bit on edge though, when Caerwyn told them she’d been invited to attend Victoire’s wedding. They knew who Victoire was, the nurse at the school Caerwyn attended, but she was also the cousin of their daughter’s best friend, Rose. Caerwyn had, conveniently, left out the information that she was actually going as a date for Victoire’s little brother, who also happened to be her boyfriend. She had thought it better to tell them it was Rose who had invited her along, easier to get them to agree that way. It had taken a bit of convincing, but her parents had finally conceded into letting Caerwyn spend the remainder of the break with the Weasleys.

“They’ll be along fucking soon.” Caerwyn shot back, but she flopped down anyway, sitting on the window seat between the two large built in bookcases. The bedroom was split evenly in two, everything matching, picked out by a mother who didn’t want her daughters fighting. Whites, light yellows, and laces decorated most of the room. White satin bed covers dotted with little silk roses sat upon the twin beds, curtains of tulle hanging down over the curved, white headboards, fairy lights intertwined into them. A bench sat at the foot of each bed, serving as both seating and storage, matching nightstands and lamps beside the beds. The walls were decorated with yellow wallpaper dotted with a small, pretty floral print. Each of the girls had taken over their own side though, adding their own touches to create a kind of drastic separation. Caerwyn’s bed boasted more throw blankets and her wall décor consisted of several of her own paintings and a limited amount of photos displaying friends and family. Her half of the bookcases was filled with old school texts, empty potion bottles, broken quills, and fairy tales. Cleo’s side of the room was nearly bursting in comparison. Posters, photos, a cork board and sticky notes plastered the walls. Clothes were scattered here and there on the floor and her bookcase held more girly items, like perfume, jewelry displays and magazines. There was still a faded bit and sticky residue on the carpet from the long piece of duct tape they had run across the floor years ago to make sure the other stayed on their side.

“You’ve got at least another hour.” Cleo chided, sitting up on the bed and tossing her magazine down in frustration. She stared at Caerwyn, eyeing her up and down. The way she kept tugging at the front of her baggy sweater, how she’d put on a pair of thigh highs instead of her usual tights, though, one wouldn’t be able to tell under her dress, and the little bit of make-up she’d used to accentuate her eyes and lips. She had even taken time to really brush out her hair, sitting down and running through it over and over again until she was certain all the knots were gone. “So, are you going to tell me who the boy is or not?”

“What boy?” Caerwyn asked, glancing up from where she had started picking at her finger nails. They were clean, the blue polish upon them fresh, but she swore she could still feel some dirt underneath them. She followed Cleo’s gaze to the newer photos by above her bed. The ones Louis’s aunt had taken on Christmas. She had kept the ones of just her and Louis hidden away in her things, but she’d hung up several of her, Louis, Rose, and Albus that she hadn’t noticed being taken on Christmas Eve. She didn’t look too terrible in them, with her hair all pulled back prettily and in the outfit Fleur had helped her pick out. She was particularly fond of the one where she was turned, drinking from a glass as Rose spoke to her and Louis was sat beside her, looking down at her as he tugged a loose bit of confetti from the Christmas crackers from her hair.

“The redhead.” Cleo pointed, her eyebrows raised in question. It wasn’t the first time she had asked, nor would it be the last. The answer was the same though, as it always was.

“None of your goddamn fucking business.” Caerwyn shot back, pushing up from the window seat. She snatched her duffle bag from the floor where it had been stuffed with the things she’d brought home from school, but also things she would need while she was staying with the Weasleys.  She dug through it, double checking the contents. Extra pajamas, her clothes for the wedding, a toothbrush… Last time she’d shown up with nothing but the clothes on her back, a book, her cat, and Louis’s Christmas gift. This time she was prepared. She already had Manson’s wicker carrier by the front door, his favorite cushy blanket inside of it for when it was time to go.

Cleo was, unfortunately right about the time. It took an hour and then a little bit before the doorbell was ringing through the house. Little feet scampered, slapping across the wooden floor of the downstairs portion of the house as Carnegie raced for the door. He loved answering it, though, there was usually always someone coming right behind him in case he didn’t know the person there, which was rarely. He reached up with both of his small hands, grabbing hold of the knob and twisting it, tugging the big white door open, a giant smile on his little face. The little boy was dressed in nothing more than a pair of overalls and a red towel tied around his neck as a cape. He’d refused a shirt that morning, saying superheros didn’t need them.

“Creoso!” The little boy stepped back from the door, his bare arms spread wide, eyes closed for a moment as he greeted the three teenagers standing on the front porch. He finally looked up at them, his head tilting back in wonder as his eyes moved up, and up, and up. The redheaded girl wasn’t too tall, but both of the boys standing behind her were quite a lot bigger than anyone Carnegie was used to seeing on a regular basis. He gaped for a moment before turning his little head and calling over his shoulder. “Mama! Da! Mae ffrindiau Winnie yma!”

“Ydw, ydw, Carnegie.” A woman’s voice called back. Her heels clicked against the floor as she appeared in the front room, her brown hair falling in curls around her shoulders as she stopped behind her son, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Hello there. How do you do? You must be Rosie and... I don’t believe Winnie mentioned your names. Come in, come in.”

“You fucking bitch!” A scuffling from above sounded as both Caerwyn and Cleo made for the door of their room. There was a small battle of pushing and shoving, the door banging against the wall as they both tried to get through it first. Cleo won as she tripped her sister, using her thinner frame to squeeze through. Caerwyn was right on her heels though, both of them using the corner of the banister to turn rapidly on the landing before they were heading down the stairs. Cleo skidded to a hault beside her mother, her hair pulled back into it’s usual messy bun on top of her head. She stared at the three strangers and then laughed, pointing with a victorious ‘ha!’ at the sight of Louis. The boy from the photo. He’d come along with Rose to get her sister, as well as a dark haired fellow.

“Rhosynie!” Caerwyn called brightly as she finally hit the bottom of the stairs. She laughed, reaching out to snatch at her best mate, hugging her tightly as Carnegie moved to close the door behind her friends. He took a few steps, his tiny hand reaching up to tug at Louis’s much bigger one, gazing up at him with big blue eyes.

“Ai chi yw'r dyn talaf ar y blaned?” The five-year-old asked curiously.

“Nac ydw, Carnie. Yw'r dyn talaf dw i.” A man’s voice filted into the living room as he came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel. Carnegie laughed, releasing Louis’s hand to race to his father, arms outstretched so he could be scooped up properly.

“Albus!” Caerwyn grinned, hugging him as well before she released him and stepped back a bit. Her eyes fell on Louis and she stared up at him, a small smile pressing at her lips, cheeks a bit pink at the sight of him. God, she’d missed him so much. It had only been a week away. She sighed, closing the distance between them more rapidly than she had with the other two. Her arms came up around his waist, face burying against his chest as she breathed him in. Fuck, he smelt so good. “Fuckface.”

*Welcome! Mama, Winnie’s friends are here.

*Yes, yes.

*Are you the tallest man on the planet?

“No, Carnie. I’m the tallest man.