#wonder how she'd feel about this one then | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shdysders · 18 hours ago

Text

not this christmas

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: the christmas dinner takes an unexpected turn when tara’s guilt threatens to shatter the holiday spirit.

word count: 8.5k

author’s note: merry christmas🎄🎄my christmas gift to you guys!

You loved Christmas. Not in the fleeting, half-hearted way most people did—the kind of love that flickered on and off like string lights. No, your love for Christmas burned steady, warm, and untouchable, like a candle in the dark.

It wasn't just the holiday or the traditions. It was the feeling. A quiet, persistent kind of joy that settled in your chest and never quite left, no matter the time of year.

It started when you were young, those early years when Christmas meant more than just a tree and gifts.

It was family crowded around a table, faces soft under the glow of twinkling lights. It was the sound of slippers on hardwood floors as you raced to the window to see the first snow of the season.

It was the smell of cinnamon, the stickiness of frosting on your fingers, the way the house felt alive in a way it never did the rest of the year.

Christmas, to you, wasn't just a date on the calendar. It was home.

And Tara? She knew all of this. She couldn't not know, because you told her. All the time. From the moment you started dating, she'd been swept up in your Christmas stories, your excitement spilling over long before December.

You told her about how you'd start making paper snowflakes in October just because you couldn't wait. How you and your mom used to sit on the floor, wrapping presents together, and how she'd always let you tie the ribbons because you were so particular about getting them just right.

You told her how you hated when Christmas ended, too. How you'd always leave the tree up a little too long, until the needles turned brittle and brown.

How you'd sit with your hot chocolate on quiet January nights, staring at the lights until they went blurry, trying to hold onto that feeling for as long as you could. And Tara would listen, always with that small, indulgent smile, as if she couldn't quite believe someone could love something so much.

When December finally came around, your joy was impossible to ignore. You played Christmas music in the car, humming along even when Tara rolled her eyes. You dragged her to stores that were too crowded, grinning at every over-the-top display.

You'd laugh when she teased you for buying ornaments you didn't need, holding them up like treasures you'd just found.

It wasn't just a holiday to you; it was a piece of you. Tara could see it in the way your hands lingered over decorations, the way your eyes softened when you spoke about it.

She'd never admit it out loud, but it was one of the things she loved most about you—that unshakable, unrelenting hope that came alive every Christmas.

And because of this, Tara couldn't help but feel it too—that excitement that radiated off you like warmth from a fire.

She didn't understand it at first, the way you lived for Christmas, the way your face lit up at the smallest details: a wreath on a neighbor's door, a candy cane tucked behind the counter at a coffee shop. For as long as she could remember, Christmas had been just another day—maybe slightly shinier than the others, but never anything more.

Her parents tried when she was little, putting up a tree that always leaned just a little to the left and filling stockings with chocolates and oranges. But it had always felt hollow, something they did because they were supposed to.

And then Sam left, and Christmas became quieter. The tree sat bare for years, boxes of lights left untouched in the attic.

Tara remembered standing by the window one Christmas Eve, watching the neighbor's house glow with lights and laughter, and wondering what the point of it all was.

She carried that feeling with her into high school—the dull, familiar sense that Christmas was a party she'd never really been invited to.

She didn't get the fuss over matching pajamas or ornaments that people treated like treasures. She didn't understand why classmates got so excited when December rolled around, or why people looked forward to it all year.

Until you.

Tara didn't see it coming, the way you changed things without even trying. The first time you dragged her to a Christmas market, she'd grumbled the whole way there, but you just smiled, pulling her through the crowds like you couldn't wait to show her something amazing.

And by the time you handed her a cup of hot cider, your cheeks pink from the cold, she realized she was... smiling too.

But she still didn't totally get it—the way you'd hang decorations before the turkey from Thanksgiving was even cold, or how you'd hum Christmas songs under your breath like you couldn't help yourself. But she felt it.

Watching you string lights across the living room, your face half-hidden behind tinsel, made her chest feel warm in a way she couldn't explain. Watching you light up at the smallest things—picking out a tree, baking cookies that inevitably burned on the edges—made her see Christmas through you.

And somehow, that made all the difference.

But this Christmas, Tara couldn't feel it. She wanted to— God, she wanted to.

She wanted to feel it—for you, if nothing else.

She wanted to wake up and see you hanging lights with that same joyful gleam in your eyes, and for it to stir something in her, the way it always did.

But all she felt was heavy, like there was something sitting deep in her chest, pressing against her lungs every time she tried to take a full breath.

She knew why, of course. That's what made it worse.

But you didn't know. You couldn't see it—not when you were so happy. You carried that same endless excitement with you, the same joy that had always made Christmas feel real to her.

She'd watched you the last month as you transformed the apartment into what you called your little Christmas haven.

She watched you move through the days like you were walking on clouds—picking the perfect ornaments, humming Christmas songs in the kitchen, wrapping gifts with little handmade bows because store-bought ones were boring.

Last weekend, you'd dragged her out to pick the tree, circling the lot three times to find the "perfect one" while she shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets, trying to ward off the cold.

She then watched you beam every time you passed the decorated tree in the corner of the living room, just because it was there. You'd even set up a playlist of Christmas music that played softly through the apartment, as though silence itself would've been a disservice to the season.

And you were happy. God, were you happy. Tara could see it in the way you lit up at the smallest things—a mug shaped like a snowman, a new set of ornaments you absolutely didn't need but bought anyway. It was contagious, usually. Watching you like that always made Tara feel like a kid again, like she was seeing Christmas for the first time.

But not this year.

This year, watching you only made the weight in her chest heavier. You were so you—so bright, so full of excitement, your voice carrying down the hall as you planned the dinner, scribbled notes about seating arrangements, and rattled off ideas for matching napkins and plates.

And Tara had tried. She really had.

She tried to smile as you turned to her, that usual brightness lighting up your face, your voice lilting with questions about tinsel and centerpieces. She tried to laugh when you dragged her by the arm to test-run Christmas cookie recipes, shoving half-burned gingerbread into her mouth with a grin that made her hate herself for not feeling the same.

Because this was supposed to be your year. Your Christmas.

It was your turn, with her, to host the group's Christmas dinner—a tradition you'd all kept for years.

You'd been talking about it since Thanksgiving, probably before. You'd scribbled notes on loose sheets of paper, your handwriting growing messier with every new idea.

You talked about the menu, the decorations, the playlists, even which stockings would suit who. And every time you said it was going to be "perfect," Tara felt like something inside her cracked just a little deeper.

She used to love this part too—when the group was together. It was loud, chaotic, warm in a way that reminded her of what Christmas could be. She used to look forward to it almost as much as you did. But not this year.

This year, she didn't even want to be there. She found herself wishing for a cold, a fever, anything that might give her an out. But when the morning came and she woke up perfectly fine, she knew there was no escaping it.

So she followed you, watching from the edges as you carried the excitement for both of you. You didn't notice the way she lingered by the door when she thought you weren't looking, or how her smile never quite reached her eyes.

You didn't notice how she winced when you wrapped your arms around her waist, whispering, "It's going to be the best one yet."

Because how could you? You were too swept up in the magic you'd spent the last month creating.

And Tara—Tara was trying so hard to let herself feel it too. She was trying to push it all down, to bury it under the wreaths and the twinkling lights, to pretend.

For you.

So for the first time, Tara was nervous about the dinner.

It didn't make sense. These were the people she loved most—the ones she trusted enough to let her guard down around, the ones who knew her better than anyone. Being herself had never been a problem with them, not here, not in this apartment where the walls held more laughter than secrets. But tonight, something was different.

Tonight, she was scared.

She was scared that someone would notice. That someone would look at her too closely and see the cracks she was desperately trying to smooth over. She knew you would've been the first to pick up on it if you weren't so wrapped up in Christmas—so bright, so blissfully unaware of the weight pressing against her ribs.

And if someone did notice, what would she say? Tara knew the answer she should give.

It wasn't hard to spin a lie on the spot—she could shrug and chalk it up to stress, or the overwhelming preparations, or a bad night's sleep.

But she knew, deep down, that none of those words would come out. If someone asked the wrong question, if someone looked at her the wrong way, she wouldn't be able to say anything at all.

Because she couldn't tell the truth. Not on Christmas. Not on your day.

The thought lingered like a whisper in the back of her mind as she paced the kitchen, straightening place settings that were already perfectly fine. You were too busy fussing over the food to notice her unease, chattering happily about everyone's arrival time as if it couldn't come soon enough. And maybe for you, it couldn't. You were so alive, so glowing with excitement, that it almost made her feel worse.

When the doorbell rang, Tara jumped.

"They're here!" you said, practically vibrating as you wiped your hands on a dish towel and darted for the door. "Go pour the drinks, —I'll get them!"

Tara took a slow, steadying breath as she moved to the counter. She reached for the bottle of wine and tried to focus on pouring, on the red liquid as it pooled into each glass. Her hands were steady, but her throat felt tight.

The sound of voices filled the entryway, the kind of cheerful noise that had always made Christmas feel real. There were hugs, laughs, the unmistakable sound of Sam's voice saying something sarcastic to Danny, and Mindy's familiar cackle that followed. Tara forced herself to take another breath before turning around.

The kitchen doorway filled with people— your people, her people. Sam came in first, her eyes immediately softening when she looked at Tara. "Merry Christmas," she said, stepping forward to pull her into a hug. It was brief but firm, grounding in a way that made Tara's stomach twist.

Sam pulled back and smiled, handing over a small gift bag with a quick, "For later."

Behind her, Danny appeared with a bright grin, holding up a tin of homemade cookies. "Housewarming gift—holiday edition," he said, nodding toward the stockings you'd hung by the fireplace.

"Come in, come in!" you chirped, ushering them further into the room as Tara silently handed Sam and Danny each a glass of wine.

Mindy and Anika followed, bringing with them an energy that could only be described as contagious. Anika wrapped you in a hug, swaying you both side to side as she mumbled about how good everything already smelled. Mindy, of course, wasted no time teasing Tara about her choice of clothes.

"Festive, Carpenter," she quipped, elbowing Tara lightly before handing over a perfectly wrapped present with a wink. "Don't open it yet—it's gonna blow your mind."

Tara managed a chuckle, faint but believable enough.

And then Chad stepped through the door.

He was grinning, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, his arms full of gifts stacked in a precarious tower. "Don't ask me who these are for—I didn't label them," he said, his voice light and warm. He set the presents down on the coffee table and, without missing a beat, pulled you into a one-armed hug. "Merry Christmas."

Tara swallowed, the back of her throat suddenly dry as she caught herself staring. She forced her gaze away quickly, staring instead at the glasses of wine still left on the counter.

You didn't notice. You were too busy, too happy to notice the way Tara's shoulders tensed, the way her jaw tightened as Chad's voice filled the room.

"God, it looks amazing in here," Anika said, plopping down on the couch and glancing around. "You two really outdid yourselves."

"That's all her," Tara replied automatically, her voice soft as her eyes flickered toward you. You were still beaming, lighting up the whole room just by existing in it.

Everyone else was smiling too—grinning, laughing, already reaching for drinks and gifts as they settled into the warm space you'd worked so hard to create. The apartment felt alive, buzzing with the kind of comfort that could only come from the people who knew you best.

But for Tara, it was like standing in a room with a ticking clock.

She couldn't hear it, not really, but she felt it—the minutes passing, the invisible weight of what she knew hanging just behind her ribs.

And when she glanced at Chad again, she couldn't stop herself from swallowing hard, her fingers tightening around the glass in her hand.

Tara forced herself to take a steadying breath.

Everyone was here now. The apartment felt alive, filled with the kind of warmth that you'd worked so hard to create.

And Tara felt like a stranger in her own home.

Because dinner was usually Tara's favorite part with the group. It was loud and messy and full of laughter—voices overlapping as everyone spoke at once, hands reaching across the table for dishes, wine glasses clinking together between shared jokes.

For years, it had been a comfort. The one night where she felt like she could let go of everything and just be.

Tonight, that feeling was gone.

You sat beside her at the table, glowing with happiness in a way that made Tara's chest ache. She couldn't stop looking at you—your hair curling softly around your shoulders, catching the warm lights strung across the apartment like halos. The bow in your hair, simple and sweet, suited you so perfectly that it felt like a deliberate cruelty.

You looked beautiful. More beautiful than she could handle.

You were the center of everything tonight. The way you floated through conversations, slipping seamlessly between topics as if you'd spent years mastering each one.

You fit so well with everyone—laughing at Chad's attempts to explain some sport, leaning in to debate horror movies with Mindy, teasing Sam about how she always turned into the "mom" of the group when leftovers were involved. Everyone gravitated to you. They always did, but tonight it felt brighter, more you.

And the food—your food—was another thing everyone praised, just as Tara knew they would. Compliments passed around the table like ornaments on a tree, each one landing on you with ease. You brushed off their praise with your usual modesty, always trying to deflect or share the credit.

"Tara helped too," you'd insisted more than once, your voice so genuine that Tara felt like she'd choke on her own breath.

She hadn't. She hadn't even been in the kitchen when you'd been chopping vegetables or perfecting the sauce.

But you didn't say that. You never would. It wasn't in you to make someone feel small, least of all her.

"Barely," Mindy had teased. "What'd you do, set the oven timer?"

You had laughed at that, and Tara had smiled faintly, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She just focused on pushing food around.

Her plate sat mostly untouched, pushed around to make it seem like she was eating.

She could barely stomach the thought of food, especially with Chad sitting directly across from her. His voice rose every now and then, folding into the hum of conversation like a thread Tara couldn't unravel. She refused to look at him.

Whenever his gaze turned toward her—and she knew it did—Tara felt the air catch in her throat, her hands gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. She'd look anywhere else—the centerpiece you'd carefully arranged, the half-empty wine bottle Mindy was reaching for, or you.

Always you.

You were so happy, so completely in it. Your laughter rose above the others, light and unburdened, and it made you look even more beautiful than you already did. How could you look like that? How could you sit beside her, so perfectly content, when she felt like she was crumbling?

And worse yet, how could you still look at her the way you did? With that same soft affection you'd had since the first time you told her you loved Christmas.

Tara could feel it in every glance you sent her way—the moments where you reached over to touch her arm or leaned close to whisper something that would've made her laugh any other year.

It was unbearable.

Every bit of you—the happiness, the beauty, the love—made the guilt sink deeper into her chest. And Tara could feel it building, rising like a wave she couldn't hold back.

The hum of conversation around the table swelled as you launched into another story—this one about your childhood Christmases, complete with every little detail.

Tara could hear you talking to Anika and Mindy, your voice animated as you described decorating cookies or setting up stockings. You'd always been so good at making people listen, at drawing them in with that warmth that never seemed to dim.

Sam and Danny were listening too, nodding along with smiles as you explained how you cooked the chicken tonight, what seasoning you'd used, and how you hoped it turned out just right.

But Tara couldn't listen.

She stared down at her plate, her fork slipping between her fingers as if she couldn't remember how to hold it. The food was cold by now, untouched, but that wasn't what had her stomach twisting in knots. She could barely hear you over the roar in her ears.

And then she heard him.

It wasn't a word—not really. Just a sound. A low throat-clear, subtle enough that it wouldn't interrupt you but sharp enough to catch Tara's attention. She looked up, and there he was. Chad.

He didn't speak, but he didn't have to.

Across the table, Chad tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable save for the pointed look in his eyes. Then he mouthed it. Two words, clear as day.

"Tell her."

Tara froze. Her chest tightened, every muscle locking into place as panic struck like ice water in her veins.

No.

Her hands were trembling now, hidden beneath the table as she squeezed them into fists. Sweat prickled at the back of her neck despite the warmth of the room, and she forced herself to look away. To pretend she hadn't seen him. To pretend she didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

She couldn't tell you.

Not now. Not here. Not on Christmas. Not your Christmas.

Tara's eyes darted back to her plate, focusing on the scrape of her fork against the porcelain, but she could still feel Chad's gaze on her like a weight she couldn't shake. He wasn't letting this go.

Slowly, she glanced up again, only to find him staring at her with that same unflinching look. He didn't say a word, but his mouth moved again, sharp and deliberate.

"I'll tell her."

Her heart stopped.

Tara felt the panic rise in her chest like she was drowning, her breath coming quicker as she stared at Chad in disbelief. She couldn't look away now, couldn't pretend she hadn't seen what he just said.

"If you don't, I will."

The room felt too hot all of a sudden. Her sweater clung to her skin like it was suffocating her, and her throat felt dry, like no amount of air could fill her lungs.

Chad's face didn't change. His expression stayed firm—resolute—like he wasn't bluffing. And maybe he wasn't.

Tara swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the table again. The panic clawed at her ribs, pulling tighter with every second.

She couldn't tell you.

Not tonight. Not like this.

But even as she sat there, heart racing and pulse thrumming in her ears, she knew she was running out of time.

Tara's chest tightened, her breaths shallow as she sat there, staring blankly at the half-empty plate in front of her. The sound of laughter and clinking silverware filled the room, so bright and cheerful that it felt like a cruel contrast to the way her insides were unraveling. Chad's eyes flickered over to her again—he wasn't glaring exactly, but the weight of his attention pressed down on her like a physical force.

She tried not to look at him. She tried to focus on anything else. Your voice, soft and full of life as you spoke to Sam about something, anything; the smell of pine wafting in from the tree in the corner; the way the candlelight danced against the silverware.

But none of it helped.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, her panic creeping higher and higher until tears stung at the back of her eyes. No. Not here. Not now. She bit her lip, hard, and reached for the wine glass in front of her with a trembling hand, downing half of it in one go.

The bitter liquid didn't calm her down, but it was enough of a distraction to keep the tears from falling. She wiped her hands on her jeans beneath the table, trying to shake the sweat building on her palms, trying to steady herself.

Nobody noticed. Thank god, nobody noticed.

Her thoughts were a blur—frantic, relentless. She couldn't tell you. It would ruin everything. Everything. This Christmas, your Christmas.

You were so happy, so radiant, and the thought of being the one to take that away made her sick.

But Chad wasn't backing off. His expression stayed firm, expectant. Tara glanced at him again, her panic spiking, and he just raised his eyebrows slightly. A warning.

I'll tell her.

She squeezed her fists tighter beneath the table, nails biting into her skin.

Tara couldn't imagine it—him saying it, not her. The words coming out of someone else's mouth felt so much worse. No. If it had to happen—if this was inevitable—then it had to be her.

Her stomach twisted, her throat dry as sandpaper. Slowly, carefully, she gave Chad the smallest nod. Barely there, barely visible. But he saw it.

He eased back into his chair, satisfied.

Tara's relief lasted all of two seconds before the guilt came crashing back in waves. She tried to breathe through it, tried to pull herself together as the room carried on like nothing had happened. Like everything was fine.

She forced herself to smile when Mindy cracked a joke about Anika's questionable taste in Christmas movies, and she even laughed—just enough to blend in.

But her chest still ached, her pulse still raced. The heat under her sweater was unbearable.

Then you reached for her hand.

Tara flinched, pulling her hand away before she could stop herself.

The silence, however brief, felt deafening.

She looked up to see you staring at her, surprised, confused—hurt. That look, your look, hit her harder than she could've imagined. She wanted to take your hand again, to squeeze it, to say it was nothing.

But she didn't.

Her palms were sweaty. If you felt that, you might've asked questions. And god, she didn't want questions.

You didn't ask though. You never did, and she loved you for that. You always let things go, always trusted her.

So you forced a smile, as though trying to brush off what had just happened, and asked the table, "Is everyone finished?"

Immediately, the group moved to help. Sam stacked plates, Mindy and Anika grabbed serving dishes, and Chad—thankfully—busied himself with clearing the empty glasses.

Even Danny, who usually sat back and relaxed after a meal, grabbed a dish and followed along.

Tara, on the other hand, stayed in her chair longer than she should have, her fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Her heart was pounding, a mess of anxiety that she couldn't untangle no matter how hard she tried. She hated how obvious it felt to her, like everyone could see her faltering, though no one seemed to notice.

You glanced at her briefly, offering a soft smile before disappearing into the kitchen with a stack of plates. That was all the signal Tara needed to push herself up, her movements stiff and mechanical. Her chair scraped against the floor, but no one paid her any mind.

She walked slowly to the living room, each step heavy with guilt. She told herself she needed a moment—just a second to collect herself. That's why she wasn't helping. That's why she wasn't in there with you, laughing and chatting like nothing was wrong.

The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree pulled her in like a magnet, her feet moving on autopilot as she sank onto the couch. It was supposed to be comforting, this space you'd worked so hard to make warm and festive. You'd spent days decorating together, stringing lights, hanging ornaments, and laughing over the tangled mess of garland. But now it felt suffocating.

The sounds from the kitchen grew fainter, the clatter of plates giving way to quieter voices as everyone began to finish up. Tara's gaze flicked to the hallway, half-hoping Chad would stay gone forever.

He'd excused himself, mumbling something about needing the restroom, but she knew better. He was giving her time, though not nearly enough.

When everyone finally came into the living room, it was you who appeared last, a glass of water in hand.

Tara froze as you crossed the room, your eyes locking onto hers.

"Here," you said softly, holding the glass out to her.

Tara blinked, guilt tightening in her chest as she realized why.

"You're pale," you said, your voice full of concern. "And you're sweaty. Are you feeling okay? We can wait with the gifts if you're not feeling well—"

The words made everything inside her snap.

She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't sit there, pretending, lying, carrying this weight while you were being you. Sweet, kind, so selfless it made her chest ache.

Tara's voice came out before she could stop it. ”Y/N, I need to talk to you."

It sounded too harsh, too serious, like she was about to break up with you in front of everyone.

Your brows furrowed slightly as you looked at her, hesitant, confused.

"In private," Tara added quickly, her tone softer this time. "Please?"

The room went silent. Everyone stared, the kind of silence that made it seem like something bad was happening—like the worst was about to come.

Tara's throat tightened when you finally nodded. "Yeah... sure."

She reached for your hand without thinking, her fingers wrapping around yours as she pulled you toward the hallway, needing to get away from the others, needing to escape their stares.

Her chest heaved as she pushed open a door to your shared bedroom, closing it firmly behind you. The sound of the latch clicking shut echoed louder than it should've, making her flinch.

She turned to you, her heart racing so fast she thought it might give out. And then, finally, she looked up to meet your eyes, and everything inside her shattered.

You looked worried—so worried—and Tara could feel the weight of it pressing down on her. Your brows knitted together, your lips parted as though you wanted to say more but didn't know how.

"What's wrong?" you asked softly, your voice trembling, just like your hands, which you were nervously wringing together.

Tara's chest ached, the tears already brimming in her eyes. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to will them away, but they refused to be stopped. The way you cared about her—always so much—was unbearable now.

You took a shaky breath, glancing back at the door. "We can send them home if you're not feeling well," you continued. "I know they'd understand."

Your voice was so steady, so kind, even though Tara could see the cracks forming in your composure. The way you were trying to hide your nervousness, trying to take care of her despite it all, made her want to scream.

"And if you're not feeling up for dessert, it's okay," you added quickly, your words spilling out like a stream you couldn't control. "Although I was really hoping they'd get to try the pumpkin pie I made. I mean, it's the first time I tried your mom's recipe, remember? You said it's foolproof, but I'm not so sure. I really hope you like it, too—"

"Stop."

Tara's voice came out sharp, cutting through your rambling like a knife. She couldn't take it anymore—the kindness, the softness, the you of it all. It was too much, and it was breaking her.

Your mouth snapped shut, your face falling as you stared at her, wide-eyed and scared.

Tara exhaled shakily, looking anywhere but at you. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, fingers curling and uncurling into fists as she struggled to speak. "Do you remember... when you were at your parents last month?"

You blinked, nodding slowly. Of course, you remembered. You'd gone alone because Tara hadn't been feeling well, and the last thing either of you wanted was for her to risk getting your parents sick. It had been her idea, really—she'd insisted you go, promising she'd be fine at home for a few days.

"Chad came over," Tara started, her voice barely above a whisper. She was shaking now, her entire body tense as if holding herself together was the only thing keeping her upright. "He... he offered to fix the faucet."

The words came out disjointed, her throat tightening with every syllable.

Your brows furrowed, your lips parting to say something, but you didn't. You could tell she wasn't finished.

Tara gulped hard, her head bowing under the weight of it all. She still couldn't meet your eyes. Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor, her voice trembling as she forced out the words.

"I—" She stopped, her voice breaking. Her breathing quickened, and she gripped the edge of the counter behind her, her nails digging into the wood.

But she couldn't bring herself to say it.

Tara's breaths grew shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to force the words out. But instead of explaining, instead of saying what needed to be said, the apology fell from her lips first—broken and desperate.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, her voice cracking. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear."

The tears finally spilled over, streaming down her face in uneven trails. She wasn't just crying; she was unraveling, her sobs barely muffled as she tried to keep her composure, though it was a futile effort.

"I promise you," she gasped, her voice trembling with each syllable. "I swear."

You stood frozen, your hands clenching into fists at your sides as the weight of her words settled over you. You didn't speak, but the way your face fell—eyes wide and glassy, your lips trembling—it said enough. You looked so sad. So heartbreakingly sad.

Tara knew it without even looking at you. She could feel it in the silence that hung between you, in the way your presence seemed to shrink into yourself as if bracing for the worst.

But you didn't ask.

You didn't press her for details, didn't demand an explanation, because you understood. Somehow, without her saying it, you already knew. And that hurt more than anything. Tara didn't want you to understand. She didn't want you to piece it together before she had the strength to admit it, to give you the truth you deserved.

"I..." Her voice faltered, her body trembling as the words clawed their way up her throat. She sobbed again, the sound raw and guttural, before forcing herself to speak. "We kissed."

Your breath hitched, and Tara finally looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before shame dragged her gaze back to the floor.

"I kissed him," she whispered, barely audible now. The confession hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, as if the world itself had stopped to listen.

Tara couldn't bring herself to tell you everything. She couldn't say the word— made out. She just couldn't. But she couldn't stop either, couldn't leave you with only half of the truth. You deserved more, even if it broke both of you.

Her voice trembled as she stammered out, "We... we took off our clothes. Not all of them, but almost." Her chest heaved as she forced the words out, each one slicing through the air like a blade. "I stopped it before it went further. I swear to you, I stopped it."

But the look on your face—devastated, hollow—made her panic. Her mind spiraled, and suddenly, the floodgates opened.

"I didn't mean it! I didn't mean any of it!" she cried, her words tumbling over each other in a frantic mess. "I was—God, I was just so stupid, and I was thinking about you the whole time. I swear, I was thinking about you!"

Tara's sobs grew louder, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she tried to make sense of it all. But she couldn't. Not for you, not even for herself.

"I love you," she choked out, her voice breaking. "I love you so much, and I missed you. That's why I—I thought—"

She stopped herself, her breath catching on a strangled sob. She pressed her palms to her face, trying to wipe away the tears that wouldn't stop. "I don't even know why I did it. I don't. I just... I wanted you. I needed you, and you weren't there, and I—"

Her words fell apart, dissolving into incoherent fragments as she clung to whatever thread of reason she could find. But there was none. There was only you, standing there, staring at her like you'd been shattered into pieces, and Tara hated herself more than she thought possible.

Your tears fell silently, slowly trailing down the same cheeks that had been glowing with joy just minutes ago. The image of your beautiful smile, so full of life, was still burned into Tara's mind, and it only made her feel worse. She had ruined it. She had ruined you. This day, this moment, this love—you didn't deserve any of it.

But you, ever the optimist, ever the one to make sense of the chaos, tried to piece it together. You wanted to believe in her, believe in something that might make this feel less. Less devastating, less cruel, less like a dagger in the heart.

"But... you had been drinking, right?" you asked softly, your voice trembling with fragile hope. It broke her.

She knew what you were doing, the way you always tried to see the good, even when there wasn't any. You wanted this to be a mistake she didn't mean, something fogged by alcohol, something you could fix.

But it wasn't. And Tara hated herself even more for it.

Her breath hitched, and she shook her head. "No," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

Your eyes widened, the hope you were desperately clinging to flickering out. The weight of her answer settled between you like a leaden fog.

"I wasn't," Tara continued, the sobs breaking her words apart. "I wasn't drinking. I—" Her voice caught, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep from falling apart completely. "It was me. I did it."

The silence between you was deafening, heavy with heartbreak. Tara looked at you through her tears, watching as yours fell freely. And in that moment, she realized she had never hated herself more than she did right now.

Tara took a shaky step toward you, her arms instinctively reaching out as though she could somehow hold you together, as though a hug could erase the pain she had caused. But before she could close the distance, you stepped back.

The motion wasn't sharp or angry. It wasn't a flinch or a shove—it was softer, almost hesitant. But it was enough. Enough to make Tara freeze in place, her arms still awkwardly outstretched, the rejection clear.

You didn't look at her. You didn't yell or scream or ask why. You just stood there, sniffling softly as the tears kept falling, your hands trembling as you tried to wipe them away.

Tara felt her chest tighten, the air in the room growing heavier by the second. She wanted to cry harder, scream, beg, something. But all she could do was stare at you, her heart shattering all over again with every tear that slipped down your cheeks.

I..." Her voice broke, hoarse and raw. "Can I... Can I hug you?" she stammered, her voice thick with desperation. "Please?"

You finally looked at her, your eyes red and glassy, your lips pressed tightly together as though holding back more sobs. For a moment, Tara thought you'd say no. She wouldn't have blamed you. But instead, you gave the faintest of nods, and it was like she could breathe again—just for a moment.

Tara closed the space between you carefully, almost afraid you might change your mind. When her arms wrapped around you, she held you tightly, burying her face into your shoulder as the sobs overtook her.

She didn't say anything else—she couldn't. All she could think about was how this was probably the last time you'd let her hold you like this. The last time she'd get to feel your warmth, to have you this close, to even pretend things might still be okay.

Her tears soaked into your shirt, her arms tightening around you as if she could will you to stay.

You stepped away, almost too quickly, leaving Tara's arms empty and cold. She wanted to hold you longer, just a few seconds more, but you were already pulling back, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks.

Tara stood frozen, watching as you looked at her with those red-rimmed eyes, your face still so heartbreakingly beautiful even in your sadness.

You sniffled softly, trying to gather yourself, your voice quiet but steady when you finally spoke. "Well... it's Christmas," you said, your words slow and deliberate, like you were forcing them out. "Can we... talk about this after they've left?"

Tara opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She just nodded, the weight of her guilt pressing heavier on her chest.

You didn't wait for her to say anything. You turned away, your footsteps soft but purposeful as you left the room. The door clicked behind you, leaving Tara alone with the suffocating silence.

Her legs felt weak, like they might give out beneath her, but she didn't move. She couldn't. All she could do was stand there, staring at the empty space you'd just occupied, wishing she could rewind it all and take everything back.

___

When Tara finally walked back into the living room, her cheeks were streaked with remnants of tears she hadn't managed to wipe away. Her eyes were red, her shoulders tense, and the faint tremble in her hands betrayed her nerves.

Everyone noticed. It was impossible not to. The room felt heavier, the atmosphere laced with unspoken questions.

Sam's brow furrowed, her lips parting slightly as if she might say something, but she didn't. Danny glanced between you and Tara, his expression unreadable.

Mindy shifted uncomfortably before exchanging a glance with Anika, who pressed her lips into a thin line, clearly sensing the tension. Chad, however, was the one who couldn't stop looking at Tara. Too much, too directly.

Mindy, ever the one to break awkward silences, let out a loud clap of her hands. "Alright, enough with the gloom and doom faces! It's Christmas, people. Let's get to the gifts before I start crying too."

Anika nudged her playfully. "Mindy, you never cry."

"I could start," Mindy retorted, grinning. "But come on, let's get to it!"

Grateful for the distraction, everyone shuffled into their spots, the pile of neatly wrapped presents in the center of the room looking far too perfect to disturb. You sat down carefully, your face composed, though your eyes gave away a tired sadness. Tara sat beside you, though she kept a bit of distance, her hands nervously clasped in her lap.

The gift-giving began, and soon the room was alive with chatter and laughter.

For Sam, you'd found a vintage edition of a book she'd mentioned loving as a teenager—a rare copy that she'd been searching for but could never find. Her face softened as she held it, running her fingers over the worn cover, and she smiled at you in that quiet, deeply appreciative way Sam had. "This is... perfect," she said softly.

Danny unwrapped his gift to find a sleek, high-quality leather toolkit for his motorcycle. His grin was wide and genuine as he held it up, nodding approvingly. "You really pay attention, don't you?"

Mindy and Anika opened theirs together—customized horror movie memorabilia. For Mindy, it was a signed script from Scream, her favorite film, complete with a note from the director. Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, she was speechless. "How the hell did you get this?" she finally asked, her voice cracking with excitement.

For Anika, it was a framed and personalized piece of art—illustrations of her and Mindy as characters from Anika's favorite horror-comedy show. Her face lit up, and she hugged the frame tightly, laughing at the details you'd included. "This is amazing! I love it!"

And Chad—Chad opened his to find tickets to a once-in-a-lifetime basketball game, featuring his favorite team and their biggest rivals. Along with the tickets, you'd included a signed jersey from his favorite player. He let out an exaggerated gasp, holding the jersey up for everyone to see. "Are you kidding me? This is insane!"

But even as Chad celebrated his gift, his gaze flickered over to Tara, lingering. It was quick, but Tara caught it. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers twisting in her lap. She wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop looking at her, but of course, she didn't.

And then there was Tara. She sat stiffly as the others admired their gifts, her stomach twisting tighter with every smile and laugh.

She couldn't bring herself to open hers yet, not when everything else felt so heavy. So instead, she stayed quiet, avoiding everyone's eyes as they moved on to the next round of gifts.

The warmth and joy in the room should have been infectious, but for Tara, it only made the guilt sitting heavy on her chest all the harder to bear.

She hesitated as she reached for the small, perfectly wrapped box with her name on it. Her hands trembled as she worked to peel back the edges of the paper, her fingers struggling against the tape.

The air felt too thick, her breathing uneven, and she could feel your gaze on her the entire time—sad, heavy, like you were already preparing yourself to walk away.

She wasn't sure she wanted to open it. She wasn't sure she deserved to.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the wrapping fell away, leaving a velvet box in her palm. Her stomach turned as she opened it, her heart sinking further the moment her eyes landed on the delicate golden promise ring inside.

It was beautiful. Too beautiful. A simple band of gold, perfectly crafted, with a small, glittering stone nestled at its center.

Tara's breath hitched. Her mouth opened, like she was about to say something—anything—but the words wouldn't come. Her throat felt tight, her chest heavy with everything she wanted to tell you, everything she couldn't.

You were still watching her, your face unreadable except for the sadness in your eyes. You spoke first, your voice soft, almost too quiet for her to hear over the others' chatter.

"It's a promise. To love and to always be there for each other," you explained. Your voice cracked just slightly, and it killed her.

Across the room, Mindy's sharp eyes caught the moment, and of course, she couldn't resist. "Oh, damn, Y/N, a promise ring?" She grinned, nudging Anika with her elbow. "The next step is her proposing. Better get ready, Tara."

The group laughed, and Tara forced herself to smile, but it was weak. Almost unnoticeable.

She wanted to laugh with them, to tease Mindy back like she normally would. She wanted to throw her arms around you, bury her face in your neck, kiss you over and over, and thank you endlessly for such a thoughtful, beautiful gift.

But she couldn't. Not now.

Instead, she swallowed hard, blinked away the tears threatening to spill, and finally managed, "Thank you. This is... it's so, so beautiful." Her voice wavered, but she pushed through.

Her fingers traced the band of the ring, but she didn't put it on. She couldn't—not yet. The weight of what she'd done made her feel like it would burn her skin.

Everyone else had gone back to unwrapping their gifts, their attention shifting back to the laughter and excitement of the moment. But you... you didn't look away from her. You sat there, quiet and distant, trying to distract yourself with everyone else's reactions, but Tara saw through it.

She could see the sadness you were trying to hide, the way your hands fidgeted slightly in your lap.

Normally, she would've leaped into your arms, kissed your whole face, and whispered promises to wear the ring forever. But this wasn't normal. And even though no one else seemed to notice, Tara felt the growing distance between you like a chasm she couldn't cross.

Her chest ached, her eyes stung, and for a moment, she considered hugging you anyway. Apologizing all over again. Begging.

But she didn't. Instead, she stayed where she was, silent and still, watching you slip further and further away from her.

Tara's gaze stayed locked on you, even though you refused to meet her eyes now. She could see the effort you were putting into smiling, laughing at Chad's stupid joke about the pie, passing gifts to everyone else like you weren't falling apart inside.

But Tara could see through it—the way your hands trembled as you folded the wrapping paper neatly beside you, the way your smile never quite reached your eyes.

And she hated herself for it.

She should've been the one making you smile. She should've been the one leaning into your shoulder and whispering a sarcastic comment to make you laugh.

That's what you deserved—lightness, warmth, joy. Instead, she was the reason your eyes were clouded over with tears you wouldn't let fall. She was the reason the air felt heavier, why Christmas—your Christmas—wasn't perfect anymore.

Her fingers grazed the ring on her hand, and the weight of it burned into her chest. She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve you. Not your thoughtfulness, not your unwavering love, not the way you'd tried so hard to make this day special for everyone.

She didn't deserve the way you cared about her so much it hurt.

And yet, she couldn't stop wishing things could go back to normal. Wishing you'd look at her again like you had that morning when you stood in front of the tree in your perfect dress, laughing as you made her rearrange the ornaments because they didn't feel balanced. She wished you'd smile at her again the way you had just hours ago, your eyes so bright and hopeful, so full of love.

But she'd destroyed that.

You caught her staring again, and this time, her heart stopped. For a brief second, your eyes locked, and she saw the flash of hurt before you quickly looked away. She couldn't take it. She wanted to reach out, to touch your hand, to say something—anything—that could make this better. But what could she say?

What could she possibly do to fix this?

The voices of your friends hummed around her, laughter and conversation weaving through the room as they moved on from the moment. They were distracted, too busy opening gifts and teasing each other to notice how quiet the two of you had gotten. But Tara noticed. She noticed everything about you.

And it was killing her.

Her hand tightened around the edge of her seat, the promise ring on her finger catching the light. A promise she couldn't keep. A promise she didn't deserve. And all she could do was sit there, paralyzed by the crushing weight of what she'd done, watching as you turned away from her completely, slipping just a little further out of her reach.

She wanted to cry, to beg, to do something. But instead, she just sat there, her chest aching, her world crumbling, her mind repeating the same desperate thought over and over.

Please. Please. Please.

Don't let this be the last Christmas we spend together.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #mabel x reader #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter #christmas #merry chrysler #merry christmas

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aonemanarmy · 11 hours ago

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Vincent's directness was something that Sephiroth could appreciate. He'd long grown tired of dealing with humans in general due to their evasive and treacherous behavior, so not having to do so was a refreshing change. Yet, he couldn't help but feel there must be some hidden motivation beneath the gunman's words as if he were setting up some sort of trap to ensnare him once more.

“I do not desire Jenova as a mother, she is my mother.”

After all this time Sephiroth thought that Vincent would've understood that fact by now. How many times did he have to explain that he was created from Jenova? Her blood ran through his veins and despite her vicious nature she was still the only mother he had and would ever know. It was ironically fitting that a creature such as her had birthed a monster like him, but unlike Jenova he intended to transcend beyond what fate she'd chosen for him.

So...What does ‘mother’ mean to you?

The only frame of reference that Sephiroth had for a mother was what he'd read in books or heard second-hand from others. What he was able to gather from those sources was that a mother was someone that was supposed to protect and care for their child, someone that wasn't meant to ever hurt or betray them. They were supposed to be the one person in the world he was capable of trusting, which was made the sting of Jenova's betrayal all the more devastating, but he'd come to realize what he thought he knew was only an idealized version of reality.

In reality everyone was selfish and would hurt each other so long as it benefited them in some way. So why would Mother be no different?

As he pondered the question he looked out into the distance where the cave hidden behind a waterfall was supposed to be. It would be an arduous and grueling trek back, but it wouldn't be the first time that the madman had undergone such trials and it certainly wouldn't be the last. If anything, through the use of his avatar he needn't be concerned about frivolous things such as food, drink, or rest because he was already far beyond basic mortal needs. All he needed to do was to walk and everything else would easily fall into place, but the same couldn't be said of the gunman who despite his alterations still had his limitations.

Vincent appeared to be aware of his own limitations at least, which was more than could be said about most humans. Still, looking the ex-Turk over Sephiroth seriously doubted the man could make another intense trip back, at least not without having some sort of recovery time.

A rumble passed beneath their feet from a distance causing snow to rain down from the scattering of pines nearby and several rocks to break free and tumble down the mountainside. The WEAPONS were on the move and sooner or later they would make an appearance, but Sephiroth was hardly concerned about it when he already had Jenova to contend with, who was clearly displeased by the current situation. She made that displeasure known with the persistent pain behind his eyes, one that spiked sharply at Vincent's mention of her name.

“Do you think yourself fit to make such a journey so soon?” He asked, studying the other man and wondering if the gunman might need to be dragged there as he doubted Vincent wanted Sephiroth to be left alone with his treasured person.

Vincent seemingly shrugged off his question and began to walk back down the mountain. Sephiroth was hardly deterred by that though, figuring the gunman was simply being stubborn and if he wanted to do that then so be it; he would drag him the rest of the way if need be. It was with that thought in mind that he set off after Vincent as they once more made their way out into the unforgiving wilderness and onto the road back south.

******

Progress had been slow – at least in Sephiroth's mind whose super-human standards were beyond any ordinary human's capabilities – but at long last they both stood before the waterfall that hid behind it the one that Vincent sought. Looking at it the madman was far from impressed, but even he had to admit there was a distinct beauty and serenity to the scenery. It made him wonder if the entire planet hadn't looked similar long ago back before the humans had corrupted it for their own selfish gain.

As he watched the steady cascade of water strike the crystalline pool below he wondered why Vincent's person would remain here after their initial meeting. If they had thought to remain hidden then surely they would've moved onto another location by now, but that didn't appear to be the case and simply looking at the place caused Jenova to sink her claws deep into his mind yet again.

'You waste your time humoring such nonsense.'

Sephiroth had considered that, but he also drawn the conclusion that he really had nothing to lose in the process either. Regardless of what Vincent tried to do the ex-Turk stood to lose far more than he ever did by trying to double-cross him.

'He seeks to manipulate you and willingly you go into his trap.'

Then I will kill what he treasures most.

In Sephiroth's mind that was the end of the conversation. He once more pushed Jenova back, purposely blocking out her voice and ignoring the steady stabs of pain behind his eyes as he glanced over at Vincent. The man certainly looked worse for the wear, but at the end of the day that was of no real concern to him since this was Vincent's idea in the first place.

“You believe that this person of yours decided to remain here after your visit?”

Though Vincent was keen to any sort of reaction Sephiroth might have expressed, Sephiroth remained poker-faced as ever. Though it was somewhat expected, it did give Vincent pause. He had hoped to see something to indicate whether or not Jenova still had her talons deep in the silver-headed man, or if Sephiroth was not independent. Unfortunately, the interaction yielded no fruit on this matter. Nevertheless, Vincent knew it was too premature to place assumptions. At the very least, it did tell Vincent that Sephiroth hadn’t gained any further knowledge regarding Lucrecia.

Perhaps Jenova was indeed actively stifling any and all connection with Sephiroth’s human mother. If so, Vincent knew what he was about to undertake was going to either yield disappointment, devastation, or a long overdue release of emotions. Sephiroth’s sanity was one thing. But Lucrecia’s safety was another. Even though death had become a stranger to Lucrecia, there was no guarantee Sephiroth didn’t possess the power to undo her from that prison, especially now that he was channeling new strength for his awakening. Regardless. If the world was indeed going to end, Vincent didn’t want to regret depriving Lucrecia of her son the second time. As soon as Sephiroth uttered his response, Vincent’s brows slightly lifted in confusion.

‘Claim’… ‘control’…?

It was a curious way of thinking. But the more Vincent listened to Sephiroth’s words, the more he began to understand. Instead of correcting Sephiroth, Vincent allowed the Ex-SOLDIER to express himself. Even being cherished or appreciated was something Sephiroth had no affiliation with. It was a truly a pitiful form of existence. Every ounce of positive human connection had been thoroughly barricaded from gaining access to Sephiroth. And yet if so, why was he so drawn to a motherly figure? Surely, his natural instincts for a paternal connection had been the driving force. Just as Vincent was about to speak, he saw Sephiroth flinch; whatever pain he had was enough to cause him to drop Hojo’s head. Instinctively, Vincent motioned to lift his hand to steady Sephiroth, but he withheld himself and drew his hand back in the event Sephiroth noticed. Though Vincent couldn’t be sure, he had a hunch the pain had been brought on by Jenova. Whatever her motives, she wanted to keep Sephiroth secured behind a wall of lies. This only made the ex-Turk more determined to carry out his plan. Alert to Sephiroth drawing his sword, he watched as Sephiroth made quick work of Hojo’s head and converting it into a hideous decorative piece. Vincent lightly furrowed his brow, not necessarily at the gruesome display, but more so at the message behind it. The threat was unmistakable. But so was the Meteor that was tearing through the clouds, not to mention his companions who he perceived to have either escaped or been caught by Shinra. There was a chance Sephiroth could kill Lucrecia, yes. But there was also a chance that Sephiroth would behold his true mother, and the course of the planet’s fate could be altered. And if anything else, he would have at lease broken the barrier between Lucrecia and her son. The disdain in Sephiroth’s voice didn’t go unnoticed, but Vincent remained visibly unmoving. “You’re mistaken,” Vincent stated boldly. “She doesn’t want to claim you, use you, or control you. You desired Jenova as a mother, did you not?” The gunslinger asked calmly. “So...What does ‘mother’ mean to you?” Allowing Sephiroth to mull over the question, Vincent looked out over the snowy horizon once more, the winds catching his cloak and brushing passed his long raven-colored hair. It was a long ways towards the cave, at least a couple days of brutal straight-shot travel and that was without any sort of delay or distractions. They would have to traverse through the entire mountain and snow, cross into the desert, and then traverse the mountains to cross Nibelheim. They had gone through it before. But if Sephiroth had indeed transcended into a higher form of power, Vincent knew he’d end up slowing Sephiroth down this time. Perhaps he could use it to his advantage… he had to also find out what had become of Cloud and the others. There was a chance they would also happen across WEAPONS along the way. “We might be able to make it in less than three days. It’s just beyond Nibelheim.” Vincent then turned half way to meet Sephiroth’s gaze. “You are your own individual with your own will,” Vincent assured. “She doesn’t seek to use or control you. She’s not Jenova or Shinra.” Vincent left off giving more details for the time being and turned his attention towards their destination, knowing the latter words would likely trigger something from Jenova. “This reunion… it’s been long overdue.” Taking a step into the snowy grounds, Vincent began to travel onward, the harsh winds tearing at his cape and once again sending a painful reminder of the bitter cold. But none of that mattered. Time was running out.

#.Cycle of Suffering #phantomyre #get in those steps grandpa

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piftamere · 8 hours ago

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something real (wc : 1.4k)

secret santa fic for @eussstasss as part of the hq x reader secret santa by @/lale-txt, i hope you'll like it! i had fun writing it <3

synopsis : she asks her dear best friend, Suna Rintarou, to accompany her to her family Christmas party as her pretend boyfriend, too embarrassed to go alone another year. no ulterior motives.

content : suna rintarou x f!reader, fake dating, friends to lovers, fluff

divider by @nectardaddy

Year after year, the questions were the same.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Are you still single?"

"Are you ever going to bring someone home to your family?"

And every time she had to disappoint them, forcing a smile as she replied she wasn’t seeing anyone. She could see their own smiles drop and their faith in her weaken.

This year, she couldn’t take it anymore. Something snapped. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out that she'd have someone accompany her to the family Christmas party.

The moment the lie left her lips, she wanted to take it back, but it was too late. Relief washed over her parents’ faces, her mother rushing to the phone to give her grandmother the big news.

She couldn’t shatter their happiness now, not when she’d seen how much it meant to them.

A few weeks later, she was slumped over her best-friend's couch, face buried in a pillow.

"I still haven’t found anyone," she whined, her voice muffled as she groaned in frustration. "It’s tomorrow."

Suna leaned against the armrest, amused. ''You sure you tried everything?"

"Yes, everything."

"And now you’re giving up?"

"Yup." She replied, defeated.

"So… no Christmas?"

"Nope."

As she was blocking out the mocking snicker Suna was making, an idea struck her. A desperate, ridiculous idea. She turned her head just enough to look at him, eyes pleading, peaking over the pillow.

"Wait…" she began hesitantly. She sat up, clutching his arm. "Do me this one favor. I’ll owe you forever. Please."

He raised an eyebrow, almost sure he knew what she meant, his lips stretched into a mischievous grin. "What?" He wanted to hear her say it.

"Be my fake boyfriend. Please."

"Why not just tell them you broke up with your imaginary boyfriend?"

She groaned again, burying her face in his sleeve. "I can’t. I can’t deal with the pity stares or them thinking i made it up. Please Rin, pretty please."

He wanted to reply that technically, she did make it up, but her desperation must have struck a chord because, after a beat of silence, he sighed, "Fine."

If she’d had more time to think it through, maybe she’d have asked why he agreed so quickly. Maybe she’d have wondered about that smirk on his face. But with the clock ticking, she ignored the signs.

She was going to regret this.

The next day, they were standing on the doorstep of her childhood home, a freshly bought pie in her hands. She glanced at the front door, now having second thoughts, her stomach tying itself into knots.

As Suna reached for the doorbell, he suddenly paused, his lips letting out a mischievous chuckle. "Wait a sec," he said, stepping closer.

She shot him a curious look. "What are you doing?"

Without answering, he slipped his arm casually around her waist, pulling her snug against him. She flinched, nearly dropping the pie.

"Relax," he said with a playful wink, his smirk slightly infuriating. "We have to sell it, you know?"

His hand rested comfortably on her hip, like it was the most casual thing ever. She swore she could feel the warmth of his touch burn her skin through the thick fabric of her coat.

Her cheeks flushed, both from embarrassment and the sudden realization of how committed he was to the whole thing. "You’re enjoying this way too much," she muttered under her breath.

"You begged me for this, remember?", Suna replied nonchalantly, reaching for the doorbell with his free hand.

Before she could respond, the door swung open, revealing her mother who practically dragged them inside.

It felt surprisingly good to walk around the house, introducing her "boyfriend" to her relatives. The warm smiles, the approving nods and whispers. She'd almost fall for the act herself.

If only she could ignore the strange, fluttery feeling settling in her stomach every time she looked at him.

At dinner, he played his part a little too well. In the name of being believable, his hand lingered on hers as it rested on the table. She had a hard time getting used to the soft squeeze of his fingers when he leaned back in his chair, cracked a joke with her father or complimented her mother's cooking. She blinked, taken aback by how effortlessly he seemed to fit into her family, like he’d been part of it all along.

She caught herself stealing glances at him, feeling peculiarly shy at this unfamiliar, charming side of him.

After dinner, they gathered around the Christmas tree to exchange gifts. The soft glow of the lights, the scent of pine in the air and the laughter of her family made this moment feel all too real.

Suna turned to her, a small, neatly wrapped box in his hand. She wasn't expecting this. How had he found the time to buy her a gift? She was trying not to read into it.

"Here," he said casually, holding it out to her.

"You got me something?"

"Of course. I’m your boyfriend." he replied with a small grin.

Their fingers brushed as he handed it to her, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met. Something in his gaze, something warm, playful, and maybe a little too sincere for comfort, made her heart thump loudly against her ribs.

It was becoming harder to remember this was all an act.

She tore her eyes away, focusing on unwrapping the gift in an attempt to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. Inside was a delicate bracelet, a thin chain with a beautiful charm that shined faintly in the tree's glow.

"So? Do you like it?" He asked, watching her reaction intently. He almost sounded nervous.

She nodded, "Rin… It’s beautiful. I didn’t think-"

"That I had taste? Ouch-"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, a smile still on her lips. "That you'd go this far."

Suna leaned in, his voice dropping just enough for only her to hear. "What can I say? I’m committed to my role."

Carefully, she took it out of the box. She was struggling to put it on, when he took it from her hands.

"Allow me," he gently wrapped it around her wrist and skillfully clasped it. His touch lingered on her skin, longer than necessary, but neither of them moved.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, but her mind was far away. Every stolen glance at him, every playful touch, only made the knot in her chest tighten even more.

A little lost in her thoughts, she found herself by the window, gazing out at the snow-covered yard as she mindlessly fidgeted with the charm on her bracelet. The calming view was a welcome distraction as she tried to untangle the mess in her mind.

"Look what we have here." Suna whispered, coming up behind her, his voice tinged with mischief.

She turned, slightly startled as her eyes followed his hand pointing to the branch of mistletoe over her head.

"Seriously?"

"I don't make the rules," Suna replied, stepping closer. He shrugged, raising his hands in defeat.

Fed up with how confident he’d been all day, she sighed and tugged firmly on his sleeve. He stumbled forward, caught completely off guard. Now impossibly close, he stared at her, wide-eyed. For the first time since they arrived at her parents’ house, he was dead silent. She couldn’t help but savor the moment of peace.

Maybe for a moment too long, because the surprise was wearing off, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "What? Lost your-"

"Oh shush." she cut him off, her voice firm. Before he could react, she leaned up and kissed him.

His lips were still, as if the shock hadn’t quite worn off. But then he kissed her back, his hand coming to rest on the side of her face. His playful demeanor becoming gentle.

When they finally parted, her cheeks burned. His usually half-lidded eyes glinted with something she couldn’t quite name, something intense, real.

A little breathless, he spoke, "You said you’d owe me forever, right?"

Her brows knit in confusion, her heart still racing. "Yes?"

His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. "Go out with me. For real this time."

She stared at him, her mind reeling. And as she looked back on today and their relationship, that always seemed tainted by something a little deeper than friendship, she realized the feeling gnawing at her insides since this morning wasn’t anxiety, it was hope.

And maybe it was time to stop pretending.

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iloveelliefanfics · 2 days ago

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um... wuhluhwuh? part 2

a/n: heyy loveliest ellie fans thank you so much for loving the first part of this, i wanted to start by thanking you. here's the second part, if you haven't read part one here it is: part one, so yeah enjoy it and thank you for all the support!!

synopsis: it takes place a day right after, you ask her out to go to the Winter dance together :p (i saw a cute dellie edit and i thought I'd go with this)

proofread! wc: 1,6k

pairing: awkward ellie x reader

What the hell even happened yesterday? You question yourself at 2:13 am. You couldn't sleep. She was all over your mind, you tried to crush the imagination of her in your thoughts. Tried to get rid of how good you fit in her arms, how good it makes you feel hugging her. You can't even imagine how it would make you feel if she had the courage to kiss you yesterday. You thought to yourself "maybe I should've made the first move", there were a lot of maybe's and what if's. That didn't change anything even though you wished it would've. Does she sleep well? Does she even sleep? All you could think of was Ellie and the way she smiles at you, the way she makes you laugh, the way she makes you feel things you never thought was possible. You made the decision that you'll be brave. You'll ask her out. You'll ask if she'd like to go to the Winter dance. You knew she wasn't fond of these things but maybe spending time with you and being with you would make her want to go to that "stupid dance" as she liked to call it.

In the morning you woke up with four hours of sleep, tired but excited with a mixture of being nervous. You were excited for the dance but nervous of what Ellie would say. You did your morning routine, ready to go to Ellie's place to talk to her, -about the dance, about yesterday- you also had the feeling she wanted to talk to you. As you walked through town in the morning, greeting people, it reminded you how good it is to be a part of a community. Sometimes the days you spent outside and the feelings, the memories came back. You tried to think of something else on your way to your so-called friend. You wished those days never happened. You happened to have talked about those days to Ellie, in "exchange" she told you her story. You two were so similar it hurt. As all these thoughts were running through your mind, you arrived at Ellie's garage, hesitating before knocking. "C'mon Y/N, don't be a fucking coward, it's just a dance."

You knocked on the wooden door, with shaking hands, hearing loud footsteps from inside. As Ellie opened the door you noticed that she definitely had just woken up. Her hair was a mess, tiredness visible on her face that had come along with a big yawn. "Good morning Ellie!" You welcomed her with a big grin, trying to play off your nervousness.

"Morning Y/N." She said between yawns. You giggled at how sleepy she was. "Didn't sleep much last night huh?" You asked, mischievously.

"Couldn't sleep at all, but I'm guessing you didn't get much sleep either." She looked all over you, taking every inch of you. "Anyway come on in!" She stepped aside so you could walk through the door. "Yeah I... I couldn't either.." You mumbled while going inside. You sat down on her couch looking at the current comic she was reading. She sat down right next to you.

"So um, i kinda wanted to talk about something, specifically two things." You looked at her hoping she's willing to have the talk. "Yeah, Y/N, I'm all ears, wassup?" She asked and leaned closer to you, paying full attention to what you had to say.

"Basically just about yesterday... and today. I was actually wondering if you'd like to go to the dance with me... I know you said it's some stupid dance but i thought it would be great hanging out and y'know, ju-" You couldn't finish, she put her hand on your left thigh and gave you a reassuring smile.

"Of course I'd like to go with you" You looked at her tattooed arm that was resting on your thigh now, feeling flushed. "N-nice! Um... and about yesterday... uh, y'know the almost kiss..." It's like she can read your mind, she finished your sentence. "It didn't happen cause it wasn't the right time. I hesitated because i didn't know if you'd want it, if you'd want me. But now that you're bringing it up, I have a feeling you would've wanted it." She was now caressing your thigh. She never showed this side of hers. It was bold and just not that Ellie awkward who's all about her comics. What demon took her? You questioned.

"Okay first of all, when did you become so fucking bold and straightforward about kissing me or even wanting me? Second of all, of course I wanted it, third of all, what is happening??" It was like you panicked, she sensed how tense you were and placed her left hand on your face, forcing you to look at her.

"Hey, it'll happen when the right time comes. I want it to be special. I want it to be so fucking memorable because that's what you deserve." She was now caressing both your thigh and face, making you feel relaxed and safe.

"O-Okay... Um, so what do we do now?" You placed your hand on hers, pressing your cheek to her palm.

"Let's watch a movie, then we could find out later what we could do." She smirked at you, which made you flushed even more. But she seemed to be really smitten by you and her face was all red. It was adorable.

The two of you spent your time until the dance with watching movies, playing games, and Ellie made you read some comics with her. She was actually just explaining the lore of her current comic while you tried to read it. It's been a while since you laughed this much. You were glad it was with her. She always made you smile, and always made your day brighten up. You were so thankful that she is your friend. Or maybe soon to be girlfriend. You two now started flirting, and getting closer, the stolen glances lasted longer. It was really a matter of time now. Before the dance the two of you separated to get ready, both of you agreed to meet later on.

At the dance

You arrive to the dance feeling nauseous from how nervous you are. You walk in and see your friend Dina dancing around and Jesse and Ellie talking at the bar table. You wipe your hands in your jeans, and walk towards your friends.

"Hey guys, wassup?" You try to be casual, but can't stop grinning when Ellie looks at you and walks up to you to hug you.

"Heyyy Y/N" She hugs you tightly, taking your scent in. "I'm glad you're here" She pulls away from the hug, setting her drink down.

"I'll let you two talk." Jesse nods towards you and Ellie then winks at her, he walks away, leaving you two alone.

"Let's go dance!" You try to yell over the music that was playing and you pull Ellie towards the dance floor. She smiles at the way you intertwine your fingers with her. She puts her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to her. You put your arms around her neck and tuck a strand of her behind her ear.

"Sooo... did you miss me in those very long hours we spent separately?" You chuckle while asking it as a joke, but her expression doesn't soften, it hardens and her face turns from happy to serious.

"I very much missed your joking ass." Her tone is serious and tough but still has a hint of mischievousness. You were left speechless. As you dance with her it feels like it's the best night of your life. The memories you made together so far, and how far you've overcome your fears with her. So deciding it is the right time you lean closer to her face.

"I think this is the right time." You whisper and kiss her. At first she doesn't kiss you back, surprised by your sudden move but when she comes back to Earth she kisses you back.

Ellie's pov:

She thought to herself that she can't believe you wanted to go to this dance with her, She never thought you'd want to be with her.

"How the fuck did I win this gorgeous girl?" She mumbled as she put down her journal. You only ever lived in her journal, the sketches she made of you, the songs she's written about you.

"Maybe I could play one of them tonight after the dance if it goes well with her." She said to herself again, lost in thoughts.

"Okay Ellie you can't fuck this up, if you fuck up, you fuck up your friendship too." She mumbled to herself as she put on her outworn converse sneakers, ready to go to the dance.

At the dance; Ellie's pov:

She's at the bar with Jesse talking about you.

As the two of them were talking she sensed your presence, as she turned around she saw the biggest grin on your face that she could ever imagine. As she hugged you tightly she wished she could stay in this moment with you. You felt so good between her arms, your scent was the best thing she had ever taken in, you were mesmerizing. You invited her to dance, she was thinking whether or not would be the time to finally take matters into her hand and kiss you. She was so nervous but happy. Happy to be with the girl she's had a crush on from the very first day. You took the first step and kissed her, taking her off guard, but she kissed you back. After this you can be sure as hell that her journal pages will be dedicated to you even more, and a song will be played for you tonight.

#fanfic #lesbian #ellie williams #tlou ellie #wlw fanfic #tlou2 #lgbtq #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #fem reader #wuh luh wuh

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manic-sapphic · 2 days ago

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sorry sw could you repeat that? who betrayed who?

cause i seem to remember catra doing nothing other than carrying out a horde plan that required the use of the black garnet and somebody freaked tf out, pretty much tryna take out everybody in the room cause someone's obsession w power had em throwin a tantrum like an old evil baby and that's what landed em in a prison cell ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(and yes i did overlay the "catra betrayed me" soundbyte a possibly def absurd amount of times during these clips sorry not sorry i just hate sw so fucking much, couldn't help it <3)

- it wrecks my bones so bad they all shatter, in a full-body cast for life, that catra goes to visit the one who caused the instincts and rationale that come w believing a person's worth is directly tied to their power to just be part of the way her mind works. sw now a prisoner, catra tryna ask about some missing file cause she's got her old position. but just for that one time for that one question. of course.

--- i think the only reason she still needed sw to be the one to give her some, any kind of validation or assurance at this point wasn't about sw the way it had ever been in the past. honestly i think she'd grown pretty accustomed to having to live without any recognition from sw that she meant a damn thing, cause she'd had adora there back then, and she made her feel like she did. but sw was the one who'd put all these thoughts about herself and her own life's lack of any significance into her head that directly contributed to developing the thought processes and rationale exhibited in her behaviors, and they're all factors in her decision to part ways from the only person who'd ever made her feel like she meant something, like her life wasn't worthless.

cause she reached a point where she felt like that was all a lie and none of it had been real, and became determined to create that on her own, and get back that feeling and have it exist in a way that's dependent on no one but her. and the sw survival guide is the only way she knows of for how to (supposedly) do that.

gets the tiniest glimpse of some hope she might actually finally get the validation she needs from sw at a time when she may not fully get why, but she needs it more than ever. and i think a big part of why is now that she's made it to second-in-command, she's been wondering if it all really is what she wants and probably still considering whether or not she'd made the right choice staying. then next visit, sw's gone, left the evidence that she tricked catra into bringing her exactly what she needed to do it. knowing it left catra likely to take the fall for it and it very likely being a death sentence if she does.

which would make sense as to why she freaks soo sooo badly when she hears where sw went. there's def gotta be a lot going on in her head there but i think part of it was sw went to the person she'd still been wondering if she should've gone to, and was visiting sw tryna get some sense or feeling that at least by staying she'd made her life worth something. and after what sw did to her, as long as she's w adora, then catra ever feeling able to even consider being w adora is wrecked af for her.

fck off shadow weaver forever and ever ok~

#spop #she ra #spop catra #shadow weaver #sw is a fcking liar #fck off shadow weaver!#gifs and a rant

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missmarveledsblog · 3 days ago

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Let it snow ( Robert Floyd x Reader )

summary : When Y/N seems to be drawing or avoiding any holiday that centres around family bob is ready to make history stay in the past as he makes it one to remember

warnings : mentions of toxic childhood , fluff , friends to lovers , bob being the best 😎❤️

The festive season was in full swing , everywhere was decorated in some form of festive colours , tinsel and baubles filled trees . It was most joyous time of the year for some and yet a nightmare for those who grew up like she did . Y/n was a medic that seemly been one to take care of the aviators and fast friend of the dagger squad . It was never bad thing she loved them all , friend and in a way. yet she could feel anxious and uneasy as each talked about their traditions , family ritual for the festive seasons. It was one part of her life she wasn't comfortable or ready to share and yet she dreaded the idea of when it came to her , knowing she couldn’t really lie to her friends so she done a tried and true trick of getting up and going to the bar for a drink and coming back to a different conversation . Maybe one day she would tell them when she was ready , she'd only started working through the dark ghost of her past so she was taking it day by day .

although she thought it was working well her friends where more intune that she'd given then credit as they turned to see her standing shoulders slumped and smile on her face that was more of a mask than a genuine feeling as chatted along to penny .

“ she's doing it again” nat sighed while bob eyes were locked on her form , concern written on his features more so for fact he's been undoubtedly in love with y/n since they first met .

“ its always holidays “roosters brow furrowed then softened like he could tell it was something he was the same when his mom passed but now with mav back in his life and his girl well it wasn't too bad . maybe it wasn’t the same circumstance , maybe it was but he knew a person that spending holidays alone looked like, it was like looking into a mirror . but what they didn't notice in their curiosities was a drunk patron knocking over a tray of glass . They didn't notice how tense y/n was or the weak smile and goodbye she gave before rushing out of the hard deck but bob did , bob noticed everything and it was no shock or surprise to the other as he excused himself and left.

the cold air help sooth her hot skin , the sound of the ocean helped with grounding herself from the past flashing before her eyes . yet her stomach still tossed and turned and the tears stung her waterline. the thing of trauma was it could strike anytime , some weekends she didn't even flinch or notice thing like that and other times well she would be almost paralysed . like she was that child once more hearing their yelling and fighting all over again . it wasn't til she felt a hand on her shoulder that brought her fully back to reality looking into the concerned eyes of robert floyd .

“ i'll bring you home” a sweet smile in her direction as he lead her to her car , handing him the keys knowing she couldn't fight it . keeping her eyes looking out the window wondering what she could say knowing she couldn’t say it was nothing , this was robert ‘Bob’ Floyd he had a sixth sense when it came to her emotions .

“its ok you don't have to tell me but i will watch those god awful things you call movies “ he smiled making a small one appear on her face .

“ they're works of art , maybe even Oscar worthy “ .

“ sweetheart we both know that definitely ain't through” he chuckled and yet she felt safe , secure. everything about robert floyd made her sense come back to earth maybe it was fact she felt so strongly about the man , even love but yet scared of pushing the bound of the friendship to something more incase it was one sided . she couldn't bare to lose such a friend , such a presence in her life . so she kept it deep inside , let it lay just beneath the surface and admire from afar. not that was working so well since the man basically could tell her home like back of his hand or slept in her guest room so many times that he had a change or two of clothes . it came in handy for night especially like this one.

Didn’t take long to get to her given she bought the small one story bungalow knowing it was close to the hard deck and the base . it was minimal and yet cosy not too much and yet bordering on too little . stepping it the space was like stepping into another time of the year , not a spot of christmas in the space while she headed down to her room telling him she was going to get change and his clothes where he left them if he wanted to. It didn’t take long for the wso to piece some of what was wrong . she bever talked about family and the place was bare of anything festive and it broke his heart all in one . did she always spend the holiday alone , should he invite her home with him back in montana ? . shaking his head as he was brainstorming some sort of solution as he threw on a plain grey T-shirt and grey sweatpants before heading out to see her placing snacks and drinks on the coffee table. a soft almost nervous smile as she looked up at the man .

“ ready? “

“ never but let get it over with “ he tease making her let out little life andaa playful eye roll.

she could see his eyes looking around , almost see what he wanted to ask on the tippy top of his tongue . he wanted to know why her home was normal , why it was void of holiday cheer or well anything else. she thought of it all , everything so cheerful smash and broken on the floor from her parents . then the glass smashing in the scene of the movie that made her visibly flinch. she could see the concern on his face and off of all her friends he was different , this was bob , sweet bob that made her heart flutter and her smile appear constantly . she realised every time he made her comfortable , went out his way to comfort her , look after her . so she was ready to tell him , to open a part of her that she never felt ready to before.

“ You're probably wondering why all this is over , why i'm well , you know, “ she sighed . “ this is hard to talk about but with you it's not so bad “ she took a shaky breath in .

“ you don't have to tell me if you're not ready but if you are ready I'm here “ he took hold of her hand wishing he wiped it first but then he couldn’t tell who hand was more clammy hers or his .

“ i can't say i hate holidays because i never really well celebrated them properly , i grew up before i had to my parent were so long in their own problems i was kinda an background character in their life. i mean sometimes they would acknowledge me but mainly it was there next drink , for life of me i could never understand why, why they did all of what they did , why the drank , why they stuck together when it lead to the most toxic fight” her voice wavered and yet she couldn't look at him , it was hard enough to say it all out loud but it was even harder to voice it . “ Christmas was never Christmas , at first it wod be joyful , decorating the house and the tree, every kid's favourite thing to do . but then it would come , they would shout yell , fight over everything and anything they could . glass would be throw and maybe physical fight and christmas decorations trashed and broken all the way til after it all , sometimes they would get so wasted they would forget gift or even food , it got to the stage i was taken off of them put into the care of state and well not all the families were so nice but in all the bad one thing i did enjoy was the snow it was probably one thing that was constant , it bever let me down and covered all the shitty things with it blanket even most run down places looked beautiful it looked like it belong with the rest of the places , it oddly only thing i liked about it which i mean here not gonna happen so i think i completely gave up on the whole christmas thing plus spending it alone isn't well …you know “ she weakly smiled as she went to wipe her eyes not thinking she would feel so emotional talking about . when she finally did look up their was no pity in his eyes , their was empathy and sympathy but not pity like she was a one eyed and three legged abused shelter animal .

“i'm proud of you sweetheart , im honored to “ he wiped the tears from her cheeks .

“ why” it was a genuine question and a genuine confusing on her face was both adorable and heartbreaking. it like first time she was being listened to , like all her past concerns and wishes were pushed to a side and now she was being heard .

“ because you overcame it all , because you shared something so hard and tough with me is why “ he pulled her to his side and she done something new she let herself break fully like the dam of decades of holding it in and pretending it was nothing . she never felt so out in the open , so vulnerable. not once did bob let her go , in a sense he felt closer to the woman before her . Nothing other than “ i got you “ was spoken til her sobs lessened , she finally pulled away wiping her eyes.

“ want to watch another movie ? “ he asked softly as she nodded shyly before resting her head back on his chest . it didn’t take long before her soft snores filled the air . bob brain got working on something else. something that maybe it was a gamble that was but it was worth a shot .

The following weeks were like nothing happened ok not like nothing happened bob did check on her a little more and she did tell the rest of dagger squad christmas was never good time to which of course they understood and were comforting what she didn't know was what was happening behind the scenes of when bob was seenly more busy under guise of christmas shopping that wasn’t a complete lie . the back of his car was filled with tinsel and fun . as she had a few goodbye drinks with her friends before they went home . then when she got home the wso was currently wrapping lights at front of her home . her furrowed brows and slight concern to the fact the man should of been getting ready to go home .

“ bobby what are you doing “ she pulled her stuff from her car hand on hip and smirk on her lip .

“ making the christmas cheer , i may of let myself in “ he smiled shyly as she shook her head when she walked in it was walking into santa's workshop , tree decorated filled with ornaments and colourful light that sparkled in the corner of her living room , the fireplace had stocking hung with care . It was like a set from every Christmas hallmark movie right in her living room . Word failed to come when she turned to see the christmas cookies and steaming mug on the table the hot coco smell that hit her nostrils.

she sat taking it in , letting it all soak in or maybe she was waiting for the bad and yet it didn't . that sickening feeling that usually followed at the sight of a home of hers or a space she occupied it was the first time that she could actually enjoy it and yet the feeling knowing that it wasn’t going to last , that soon she would be alone like always maybe sleep the time away or occupy her time with something, anything . Yet Bob just walked past with suitcase in hand only to her guest room and not the front door to say she was confused as she followed after almost like a lost puppy as she watched him unpack . her head tilted a version of cute curiosity and confusion.

“ I'll go home for new year oh and your coming” was all he said a smirk on his lips as her eyes widened.

“ You should be with you family” a guilt and sadness to the tone of her voice .

“ I already am … i'm picking the movie this time though so sweetheart “ he winked a new confidence that left her almost open mouth before she scurried after.

“ this man is gonna kill me “ she smiled to herself almost lost in the admiration and the feeling of how well he fit in her life. of course bob would do all this , it was like the man was a sexy nerdy angel walking on earth . it was easy to feel comfortable , to try new and old thing and not feel rushed or frightened . if this was what christmas was like with robert floyd well she never wanted it to end.

after a marathon of great christmas movies ( not that she would admit it ) . she even felt herself melting into the man she knew a long time ago she loved more than a platonic way . more food that her stomach was possibly able to make room for . It was like that first few days like he was getting her used to Christmas like some weird exposure therapy , now it was christmas eve and now fast asleep unaware of the man sneaking out of her house ready to put his final plan to action . Looking over the machine's instructions like it was the most important mission of his life , it was detrimental to Bob that this part went well perfectly as meticulously read the booklet over before getting started waiting for it all to come together before heading into the house . running into her room and shaking her lightly.

“ Come on sweetheart, you need to see this, “ he smiled, pulling her sleepy form as she whined rubbing her eyes , still in a sleep filled daze til she saw the white floating to the ground disappearing to the light blanket of white that was her lawn . she could have sworn this was all a dream it had to be . like she was going to wake up and be alone and it was all gone. yet she could feel it on the tips of her finger as she walked out . This was her version of Christmas , a part of the time that was consistent in its beauty . it was surreal to see her own personal flurry of snow falling down around her. she looked over this was real and yet it felt like a dream .

“ why” was all she could get out of her mouth as she felt tears falling down her cheek .

“ because everyone deserves to feel the magic of christmas especially a woman who is beautiful inside and out “ almost bashful and shy not even the night sky could hide the blush on his cheeks or her own . with out a second thought or hesitation she threw herself into his arms almost knocking him over in the movement . holding on like he would somehow float away if she let go and when she pulled back ever so slightly looking into his eyes . it was like she could feel the same fellings she hid so deep pouring from the man . like a magnetic pull til their face were mere inches away enough for him to soft nudge her nose with his own before their lips connected. that fear she held on so long now a fleeting thought at how perfect the whole thing was. how natural and soft his lip felt against her , how they belong like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. the missing parts of them both being found in each other , in that moment . a picture perfect start of a new shift in the dynamic and for once a welcome change to what would cone. a soft peck as they pulled apart .

“ i thought i was gonna have to pull the mistletoe out for that “ she tease her head resting against his, that smile on his kiss bitten lips.

“ seem like i really got you in the christmas spirit huh ? “ his nose tenderly bumping her as felt himself addicted now he had a taste of her lips .

“ i mean what else is a girl gotta do when a guy she loves literally makes it snow and makes it a christmas to remember “.

“ well when you in love with most amazing woman snow , you give her everything she deserves and more and probably will for along as she'll have him “ he peppered her face in kisses making a soft giggle fall from her lips . each peck a silent promised to make sure the darkness of her past stay there , because he was gonna light her future but now in the present he was gonna enjoy the woman he loved and let it snow .

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