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netherfeildren · 6 months

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Evermore

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s your older boyfriend who your parents had a hard time approving of, but you’re engaged now and spending your first Thanksgiving with your family, and well, it’s always fun doing things you know you shouldn’t do under the roof of your childhood home.

-OR-

The Thanksgiving AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Thanksgiving AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Thanksgiving is the most boyfriend holiday and it needs to be discussed; Fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pretty soft and sweet; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Size Difference; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Breeding Kink; Oral sex; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; Come eating; PWP

A/N: Was thinking yesterday that Thanksgiving is the most boyfriendy holiday, and so this seemed entirely necessary after that epiphany. I’m sick as an old dog right now, and wrote this so quickly and just for fun. Any and all mistakes are property of my NyQuil induced high, apologies and enjoy and happy holidays :]

New Year’s Eve follow up

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

“You’re doing so good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, baby. So, so good. It’s going so well.” You drag your nails slowly up the wide expanse of his strong back, feeling the divots and bumps of his spine, the thick padding of muscles that jump and shiver at your touch. He’d donned the nice green and red plaid button down you’d bought him for tonight, and he’s a little damp at the small of his back, giving away the nerves he’s trying to keep hidden from you, but you can tell anyways, sensed them as if they’d been your own fluttering within you. More attuned to another person than maybe is normal, perhaps, but you know this man, your man, your fiance now. You understand him.

“You think he likes me?” And his voice goes a little gruff, sheepish, words lodging in his throat as he slowly soaps your mother’s special holiday china in the warm sink water. The two of you’d been relegated to clean up duty after you’d finished the beautiful Thanksgiving meal your mother had spent days readying in preparation for your first official visit with Joel as the man you’d soon marry. No longer just the older boyfriend who your father couldn’t stand to hear about, much less bear the sight of. And the come around had been slow going, undoubtedly, tireless work on yours and your mother’s parts trying to get him to relent, to accept the man who you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with as a good man for his daughter.

“Yes– yes. Absolutely. You made him laugh so many times. And he was so interested when you mentioned the house.”

You feel him suck in a shaky breath and move to wrap your arms around the strong breadth of his waist, resting your cheek against him, listening to the thud, thud of his beating heart. “Christ–” He gives a tremulous laugh that you follow suit warmly, palms splaying out over his belly. “He was, wasn’t he?”

“So interested. Please, don’t worry anymore. My mom loves you, and dad’s on his way there too, I know he is, I promise.”

“He’s just protective,” he says, shutting off the water and pulling the plug on the drain. The both of you stand there in the silence together, listening to the little tornado of water suck away the remnants of the perfect dinner you’d just had with your parents and the man you were going to marry. It really had been perfect, and you’re telling him the truth when you say you really do think your father’s coming around. He’d been apprehensive at first, more than apprehensive, perhaps, with Joel being so much older than you, twenty years to be exact. And with a teenage daughter of his own, Sarah, who was spending the holiday with her mother.

Your mother had always been the easy going one, and she’d taken one look at Joel, the dark, silver threaded curls, the thick shoulders and sparkly, hazel eyes, the too charming smile and had immediately understood. Your father had seen all those same things and seen nothing but trouble immediately deserving of mistrust. Things had been rocky for a time, but when Joel had gotten down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him and Sarah, when he’d broken ground on the house he was building you with his bare hands from the dirt up out by the lake, well… your father hadn’t been able to withhold his approval for much longer after that was all said and done.

“And for good reason,” he continues, reaching for the dish towel, drying off his hands before covering yours over his stomach with his wide palms, pulling your arms tighter around him. He brings one of your hands up to his face, cupping his own mouth with it to press a kiss to the tender cove. “The man should take me out back and drag me through the mud,” he mumbles, muffled into your skin, dragging his mouth slowly from side to side, tickling your palm with his whiskers.

You press yourself harder against him, shoving him into the edge of the counter, dizzy with the feel of your heart beating so hard against your sternum it reverberates against the ribs in his back. “No, baby. Why? Never.” You press a kiss right over the slope of his spine.

He gives a soft laugh at the feel of your wriggling against him, trying to find friction anywhere and anyway, not very inconspicuously rubbing your breasts against his back, and he turns slowly in the circle of your arms with that humming laugh still caught in his throat, bending slightly at the knees when he wraps his own arms around your waist to pull you up and into him so that your feet are left to dangle above his own heavy boots. He nuzzles at the warm, fragrant skin beneath the edge of your jaw, a small kiss to the tender spot behind your ear, where he whispers, “‘Cause all I could think about at the goddamn table, sittin’ next to your father, was how pretty your tits look in that dress you wore for me – how much I wish I could kiss that pretty pussy to sleep tonight.”

You whine low, desperate, needy, wrapping your arms behind his neck to press his face tightly to your throat, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth, sharp at your pulse. “Joel–”

He shakes his head slowly, a long stream of sighing breath warm against your collarbone before he says, “I know– I know, baby. I’m telling ya– your father should kill me for the things I wanna do to his little girl. For the things I do to her already.”

The visit had so far been everything you could’ve wished for, and what you’d appreciated more than anything, more than your father’s very approval of your fiance, or your mother’s happiness for you, was that Joel had found the perfect balance between being respectful, ingratiating even, while still remaining uncowed by your father. Walking into your parents home with your hand in his, a deferential kiss to your mother’s cheek, and a strong, self assured handshake for your father while he’d handed him the bottle of his favorite fine aged whiskey and a demure, I’m glad we could make this work for our girl.

Our girl, he’d said, and it had made everything that lived inside of you with his name on it, everything that was perpetually soft and wet for him, go molten. You loved him. You belonged to him. And you’d chosen him for yourself, and he was sure as hell going to make sure everyone the two of you came across knew what that choice entailed, what it meant to him. Your father had been forced into capitulation, all with the whiskey and the self assurance in Joel’s eyes, your own unbridled elation, and your mother’s giggles and blushing smiles like every other woman who’s ever met this man, unable to resist the charm of that Southern twang and the too gorgeous smile, no other recourse had been left to your poor dad.

You think of this as you make your way on silent tiptoes through your parent’s dark, quiet home. It had been the one concession you’d not garnered from your father, the sleeping arrangements. He’d absolutely refused to allow you and Joel to share a bed under his roof, no questions asked. And no matter how much you’d pleaded and your mother had cooed and cawed and threatened him, he’d not relented. At this point, you were worried he’d not let you sleep in the same bed as Joel even after the two of you’d been married. But what your father didn’t understand, what even you yourself barely understood sometimes was that you needed Joel. You need him. No one, no one except for Joel himself understood how desperately that ran inside of you. He understood you, he always has.

You pause as you reach the closed door of his bedroom, splaying a palm against the fine grained wood to take a settling breath, your heart beating so fast you feel it in your throat, chock full of excitement, lust, desperate yearning. To have him here, in your childhood home, where you’d been a teenager, a girl, grown into a woman, you want him so, so badly, inside of you, around you, beneath you. You can never sleep without him anymore, no comfort to be found in the too small bed of your childhood – you turn the knob and slip inside.

The blue darkness of the guest bedroom paints his form in shadows, big under the pretty quilt your mother has adorning the bed. You can see the heavy mass of his shoulder peeking from beneath the edge of the quilt, the ratty gray t-shirt you know has a faded longhorn stretched across the front; not able to sleep naked and wrapped only in you the way he usually does when under your parents roof. You turn the lock and step carefully on tipped toes, avoiding the creaky bits in the hardwood floor you’re so familiar with after a lifetime living in this house and lift the edge of the quilt to slip into the cocoon of warmth with him. Like a living furnace, you snake your arm over his flank slowly, enjoying the shiver and jerk of his muscles as you stroke him awake. Your palm, passing over thick ridged muscles and soft belly, digging beneath to feel the wispy scratch of hair there.

He makes a deep sound, low in his chest, legs shifting as he comes to wakefulness, and then the gruff murmur of your name being whispered into the dark, his big, callused palm coming to wrap entirely around your fist beneath his t-shirt, keeping you from slipping it inside his sleep pants. “Baby, what’re you doin’?” He slurs, voice full of sleep and slow waking lust.

You press your pelvis into his backside, hitching your knee up and over his hip to wrap yourself around him like vines. “I need you,” you mewl, baby voice trying to get ahead of his polite refusal before he’s able to get it out. He’d told you, before the two of you’d embarked on this weekend at your parents house, that there was to be no funny business on your part. As if he didn’t know that that was your favorite kind of business where he was concerned. You press a kiss above his scapula, then open your jaw to drag your teeth against the skin warmed cotton. You rub against him, clutching and pulling at his chest and stomach, biting and kissing as much of his back as you can reach, your foot somehow finding its way into his lap so that you can feel his quickly hardening cock against the sensitive arch of your foot.

He groans roughly. “You’re gonna get us caught, sweet girl,” he tries to protest, but wraps his hand around the little foot in his lap anyways, pressing the arch of it into that half hard erection, rubbing against it.

“I need you– I can’t sleep without you,” you whine, and he makes a frustrated sound, turning to face you, gripping your knee as he goes to open the cradle of your hips for himself, drawing your leg over his waist so that you’re suddenly chest to chest, sipping on each other’s warm breath. With a fist in your hair he gives you a hardly believable reprimand, little girl, and presses his lips briefly to yours, quick and damp, barely there, like he can’t help himself, like he knows that if he starts he won’t be able to stop, wandering hands already slipping up the hem of your nightgown, squeezing your panty clad ass.

“Your parents…” he tries again, the roll of his hips against yours, coupled with a hitched whine, making his objections a little laughable.

“Don’t you miss me? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me here with you?”

“Of course– of course I do–” You twist your fingers in his curls, the first real press of your mouths, his damp upper lip slotting between both of yours so that you can give it a little suck. Then the tip of his tongue touching yours, and you’re opening all the way for him, moaning wantonly into his mouth, letting him lick and taste behind the line of your teeth. “‘Course I want you here, baby.”

“I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet,” you promise. “Please, please, Joel. Please, just–” The hand squeezing your ass slides between your legs, finds the damp plaquet of panties. Fuckin’ soaked already, needy girl. “Please, just fuck me. I’ll be so quiet, I promise.”

“Baby…”

Please, please, please. He’s always had something about him that turns you into nothing more than a wet little girl desperate for the big, big man’s attention. The impropriety of your surroundings has no bearing on this, the desperation is as present as ever, heightened even, maybe, because of the wrongness of it, because you could be caught red handed at any second if you’re not careful, not quiet enough.

“‘Course I love you so fuckin’ much. You even need to ask?” He rubs the flat of his palm over your pussy, the tip of his middle finger finding the nub of your clit covered by the soaked wet silk to press lightly on each pass forward.

“No, Daddy. I know,” you breathe soft and secret into his mouth, watch the slight widening of his eyes as you say it. You can picture the flush suffusing his cheeks at hearing you call him so, know the effect the sound of it has on him.

“Fucking Christ,” he murmurs, pulling you tighter against him, tilting your head back by the grip he has on your hair so that he can deepen his kiss, taste you more thoroughly. “Better be quiet while I fuck you.” He pulls back, mock frown and a note of reprimand in his voice as his fingers dip beneath the silk of your panties to find the wet, swollen mess of you already. He moans into your open mouth, your name and I love you and wet fuckin’ pussy as he starts to pet at you slowly. His fingers swirling at your clit and then moving to your opening, dipping inside just a tiny bit, giving you almost nothing, forcing a frustrated whine up your throat. “I said quiet.”

“Please, Daddy. Please,” you beg, but he returns to your clit, ignoring your whining, pinching the bundle of nerves lightly before he’s back to teasing the mouth of your cunt, dipping the tip of a single finger in shallowly to pull your wetness from you and spread it over your mound, slicking you up for him.

“We’re gonna go nice and slow. Gonna take my pretty cunt nice and slow, and you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? Gonna be quiet – not get us caught, right? Say yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, pressing kisses all along his face and jaw and throat, needy fingers twisting in his curls, scratching at the back of his neck and the hills of his shoulders. He make an approving groan of a sound, rolling the two of you over so that you’re on your back, splayed out beneath him, and he pulls the vee of your nightgown down, bearing your breasts to him, sucking on each nipple, first hard then soft, then with teeth and tongue, slicking you in his spit, and you try and stay quiet, you really, really do, but it’s so hard not to cry out at the sight of his jaw hinging wide, seemingly trying to take the whole heavy weight of your breast into his mouth in one go.

He always has you like he wants you more than anything else in the whole world, like he’s never wanted anything else in his whole life more than he wants you, and nothing feels better than that, nothing makes you crazier for him than the way he wants you so desperately.

He makes his way down the length of you with kisses to your breasts, your ribs, your belly, the mound of your pelvic bone, before he’s gathering your knees together and bending them to press against your chest, pulling the lace and silk of your panties over the curve of your bottom and diving nose first into your wet cunt, taking in a deep drag of your scent and then dragging the broad, flat of his tongue from your asshole to your clit in one long, slow swipe. The groan he ends on has you almost coming on his tongue just like that, the sound so hungry it would scare someone who doesn’t want to be wanted as badly by this man as you do. And he eats your cunt like he’s angry, like he’s in love with you, like he doesn’t care if you get caught or not. Tongue plunging into your pussy, sucking on your clit, shaking his head, quick and hard, from side to side so that the obscene sound of your wetness against his mouth is all you can hear over the cacophony sounding in your ears right before you gush for him all wet and sweet and sticky, covering his tongue and beard. His lips wrap around your swollen clit again while it still pulses for him, and you have to shove your fist into your mouth, drooling around it to stifle the sound of your cries for his cock while he sucks you into a second painfully fluttery orgasm, your womb cramping hard and tight around nothing, your cunt clutching desperately at air for the cock it’s about to gladly take. The hum of his movements, of his whines and moans, don’t match his promise for nice and slow. They tell you this is going to be hard and deep and might even hurt, and that you’ll like it all the more for that. This is, after all, what you’d snuck in here for, just exactly this.

He pulls away from your cunt with a loud, wet suck, popping your clit from his puckered mouth like a piece of too ripe, too sweet fruit, before crawling up the length of you, pulling your soaked panties and your nightgown from your body as he goes, shucking his own sweat soaked shirt over his head and kicking his pajama bottoms away. When he takes your mouth again, his face and beard are wet and sticky with your slick, all sweet sugared musk and the angry thrust of his tongue, his fingers, too hard and too tight wrapping around your jaw, grunting into your mouth as he sucks on your tongue. His burning hot cock thrusts between your wet cleft, the sound of your leaking pussy loud enough to be heard over the sound of your mingled panting breaths. You feel him grip himself, stroking once, twice, wide, blunt head bumping against slick soaked skin, before he’s notching at your cunt and shoving in, hard and fast. Not giving you a chance to think about it before he’s bumping at the mouth of your womb, a muted bruise you never tire of; his too big cock that still pinches every time, that presses in just on this side of too deep to always be comfortable, but you don’t care. The proof is in the hurt, and you need constant reminding that he’s real, that this is real. It’s your greatest pleasure, after all, the reassurance of him, of the two of you, and he never tires of giving it to you. You know that giving you the things you need and want from him, turns Joel on more than anything else.

He groans long and low into the crook of your shoulder when he bottoms out and holds there for several drawn out moments, both of you enjoying the pulse and throb of your connection. He’s so deep and you’re so wet for him, taking him so, so well, like he always tells you that you do. You’d felt, from the first moment that you’d laid eyes on him, like you’d been made for him. Put on this earth just for him to find and keep, and doing this, having each other like this, even after all the times you’ve done it, always feels like further proof of it. He grinds against you, hips shifting from side to side, tip bumping against the deepest part of you, before he’s clutching at your ass and flipping the both of you over suddenly, cock never slipping from your tight clutch when he settles you on top of him, buried to the hilt. You feel him in your stomach like this, and you tell him so, little hand coming to rest low on your belly where you’re holding him inside of you, pressing down so that the both of you can feel your connection from the inside out, groaning in tandem all wide and sparkly eyed as you look at each other. And he’s nodding his head at you as you start to shift your hips slowly, feeling the wet slide of his length, the grind of your clit against his pelvis, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other anchoring yourself on his own stomach so that you can rock yourself on him.

He pulls one of your knees up, resting your foot flat on the bed to open you to his gaze, so that he can watch the way the thick root of his cock splits your cunt open for him to fuck up into. The two of you find your rhythm, you rolling your hips down on his upthrust, and he’s still nodding his head at you, mouthing words made of only air at you while you gasp and gulp for breath, I love you and you’re so pretty and yeah, ride that cock, baby. All you can do in return is mumble his name at him over and over again, Joel, Joel, Joel, nonsensical. Your brain doesn't work when he’s got his cock wedged this deep inside of you, it just doesn’t.

There's sweat pooling in the divots of his collarbones, the sun grizzled notch of his throat, and you fold over forward, changing the angle, deepening it, to lick up those little pools of salt, sucking on his neck until he’ll surely have incriminating bruises tomorrow. You don’t care, not even a little bit. He’s so yours in this moment, always really, but right now, Joel feels so, so incredibly yours, and you love him so much, and he’s going to be your husband one day soon and nothing else really matters besides that.

He wraps both arms around your back, squeezes you to himself tight and starts to fuck up into you, fast, brutal, again, nothing nice and slow about it like he’d promised, and you’re forced to dig your teeth into his shoulder so hard you’re scared for a moment you’ll taste blood on your tongue. You can feel your orgasm crawling up your spine, pooling like liquid heat in your pelvis while everything goes tight and fluttery inside of you. “How mad would he be if I knocked you up right now? If I fucked his baby girl full’a my baby under his roof?” He grunts into your ear, and there’s the dip in your restraint. As much as you want to hold off and wait for him, you clench down hard around him with a sharp cry, mouthful of his skin to muffle you only barely. “Huh? What’dya think he’d say?” He continues, changing the angle so that his pelvis bumps against your clit on every punch in, balls slapping wetly against the curve of your ass while he pets at the tight ring of muscle back there, tempting you with more than you think you can take right now. “If you go all pretty and round and soft for me before our wedding.”

You can't speak, you’re nothing but air and sticky, sweet wet in the shape of a girl made just for him. Too tight grip in your hair, and he’s jerking your face towards him, grunting into your mouth as he starts to spill inside of you, burning hot come milked out of his cock and deep into you, and he tells you again how much he loves you, tells you that you’re his pretty little wife because it’s already felt like that for so long. A marrying of your very selves despite the lack of legal nothing that means so little to the both of you when you have all this between you already. Tells you that he can’t wait to see his baby all full of his baby.

When he’s finished pumping you filled to the brim he turns you over again, pulls out slowly so that the both of you can appreciate the sound of his heavy cock slipping wetly from your well used pussy, and when he bends to eat your mingled come out of your puffy cunt, only to then wedge your mouth open so that he can spit your fluids onto your waiting tongue, all here, taste how good we are, the only words left when it comes to this man and this thing you have between the two of you is always simply thank you.

New Year’s Eve follow up

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suraemoon · 5 months

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It Couldn’t Be Better

Elvis x Reader - snippets of Elvis’ first Christmas with your family

Warnings: None really, just fluff and flirting

WC: 3.8k (was supposed to a blurb idk what happened)

A/N: Look, I’m aware that this isn’t good and is all over the place. I’d spend a few more days on it if I could but today is Christmas (yay!) and it would make no sense to post it any other day. I put in my masterlist that this would hopefully be out by the 25th and here it is. It’s based on the prompts “It could be worse” and something along the lines of “a character’s parent makes them tacky christmas sweaters” Merry Christmas y’all!!!!! I LOVE YOU.

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“It could be worse.” Your voice radiates fake optimism as your manicured nails pick a piece of lint from the homemade, bright red knitted sweater on your upper half.

You look up from your quick maintenance to be met with Elvis’ scrunched nose and concentrated eyes as his hand pulls on his sweater's borderline turtleneck collar, a bright “Christmas tree” green to complement yours festively.

The sweaters were beautifully knit with white stripes going back in forth in turn with the chosen festive color. Glued on the knit were an array of tinseled pompoms and ironed on were different designs of patches. Smiles, hearts, stars, animals, santa’s, snowflakes, etc; they all looked like they’d be better suited on a girl’s poodle skirt. “Eh..I guess.”

Your mama had sent you two up to your bedroom to get ready in time for Christmas dinner with your whole extended family.

From her spot next to the stove in the kitchen, one that seemed permanent for her during the holiday season, Mama was cooking up her signature feast and the scent of food filled the air teasingly. The smell enveloped everyone and only built up anticipation for later in the day.

Earlier in the day, when the cold wind flowed in anticipation and the white snowflakes made themselves home, you and your boyfriend had been tasked with cleaning the whole house from top to bottom.

One of the most famous men in the country having his first Christmas at your house? Mama was quick to put a broom in his hand for she had the elder generational quality to not spend her time focusing on pop culture and society but instead what needed to be done in order to keep her home running smoothly, especially during the holidays.

“You need to wash my windows, clean my counters, sweep and mop the floors…”

You couldn’t stop a huff from leaving your lips at the housekeeping task for this was the first year that you desired to be in the kitchen, observant to her methods and helping when you can.

Your mother was easily the best cook you knew, she knew the kitchen like the back of her hand, and with your growing relationship with Elvis starting to become more and more serious, you started thinking about your own cooking skills…well the lack of.

One day you will be handed the baton of Thanksgiving and Christmas meals and there’s no harm in trying to learn the ins and outs of it now.

“You need to give the dog a bath, make sure every bedroom in the house looks neat…”

The urge to be a housewife never striked upon your young ambitious mind until you met Mr. Elvis Presley. He unknowingly had the ability to cooking, cleaning, and raising children seemed so much more desirable. A life centered around being his subservient, supportive wife seemed delicious when his hand was intertwined in yours. A few years ago, a younger and singler you would’ve called yourself crazy. Nowadays you just call yourself in love.

“You got it, ma’am.”

Elvis met this list of chores as long as Santa Claus’ list with a smile for he was a restless person always looking for something to do, always searching for an excuse to move, and you knew deep down that he missed his own mama telling him to do stuff.

Now, a few hours later, that genuine go-with-the-flow grin was replaced with the tug of his lip genuinely trying its best to exude politeness as his hand tugged on the collar of his christmas sweater again, the top of his pale collarbone teasing you in the process.

The sun was now lower in the sky but the clouds did not tire from dropping snowflakes anywhere they could. The warm light of your lamp illuminated your freshly tidied room.

It fit the comfort of the holiday spirit better than the sunshine of the early day where brightness flowed through every window as you cleaned them with a rag, the circular motion of your hand mirrored the making of a snowball. Now the view out of the window was a grayish storm of flurries, weather in which a warm sweater would come in handy.

To make light of an awkward situation, you decide to embrace it and do a quick spin in front of him, showing off your full festive outfit. The cranberry red of your oversized sweater is paired with a black leather mini skirt and black leather boots to match.

It’s an outfit that you wouldn’t usually ever wear for a family event like this. But your boyfriend's overwhelming presence: fingers that you knew would always intertwine with yours as if meant to be, an arm that would never fail to wrap around your waist, feet that would always gravitate towards being around you, it all filled you with an indescribable sense of confidence.

The pure sex appeal Elvis exuded 24/7, seemingly effortless as if the attraction comes with his nature, always inclined you to put your all into matching it’s magnetic energy. The spin stops and your feet go to tippy toes to reach up and kiss his sugar plum lips. “What do ya think?”

Elvis wets his lips as if your lipstick had a flavor and his eyes look you over your figure fully as he takes your hand to give you a quick little twirl. Instead of a full 360 it was more of two 180’s since he stopped a second to take a quick look at your back side.

A low whistle was the background music to the rest of your orbit and his cheeky little smile seemed to glow when in the presence of your maroon red lipstick. “I think I gotta see what’s under it. Gonna let me do a little inspection? Wanna make sure everything’s sitting right…working the way it’s sposed ta.”

“Elvis! It’s Christmas…gotta be family friendly.”

He chuckles as a response comes too quickly to brain, “I wanna get real friendly with you, honey.”

You hit his shoulder playfully, “Stop that.”

“Hey! It’s Christmas, honey. Thought we had to be family friendly and that hitting ain’t very holly jolly of ya. I’m surprised Santa didn’t give ya coal this year.”

“Oh please. I don’t think Santa would mind me putting ya in line for naughty thoughts.”

“I don’t think Santa would mind me bending ya over my knee for a smart mouth but…” He shrugs, putting his sleeves in his pants pockets.

You stick out your tongue at him and he laughs his beautiful laugh. Gliding as if on ice back to the mirror of your vanity, you apply some more blush to your cheeks. Getting a little too warm and secretly having the cheeky desire to show more skin, you subconsciously fold the ribbed collar of your sweater down a little bit.

When met with the black and purple of a hickey on the side of your neck, immediately the collar is put back in its original place, the fabric willing to revert back to how it was supposed to be worn and mocking you in the process as if saying “told you so”.

A whisper escapes your lip, “Jesus…”

Elvis perks up from the seat he has taken on your bed in response, for he loves an opportunity to talk to (and tease) his favorite girl, “Lord’s name in vain on his birthday?”

Your eyes, framed by black liner and an eyeshadowed lid, meet his through the mirror of the vanity, “Elvis what’d ya do to my neck? It ain’t ever been this much before.”

“Hmm…” His arms are at his sides, stabilizing himself against the plush of the comforter, and he looks simply adorable with his false pout as if thinking of a smart remark to respond with.

“Hm indeed.”

He chuckles, “Today about love ain’t it? You don’t wanna put ya collar down and show everyone how much I love ya?”

“Elvis…”

As if automatic, your eyes roll playfully and he decides to continue, “Not gonna show off that pretty little neck, huh? You always look pretty but you look even prettier when you’re all marked up…all claimed.”

“You’re too much.” You shake your head, trying to cool off the influx of red that has awoken on your cheeks.

“People wanna know which one’s E.P.’s girl? Oh, they’ll know. She got the love marks to prove it. She’s the only girl I wanna love on.”

Your soft hands go up to cover your face but they make sure to keep a safe distance in order to not mess up the canvas of progress you have made at the vanity. “Shoo…you’re too distracting. I gotta finish my makeup.”

“So…?”

“So…they’re staying covered.”

A few minutes later, he speaks again from a spot on your bed as you apply the finishing touches of your makeup. “No offense to your mama, honey, but…I don't think homemade holiday sweaters are really in trend. Not these ones at least.”

His slight frown gives way to a bright laugh, a sound prettier than the jingle bells adorning the sleeves of his sweeter.

“Everyone’s gonna be wearing one so we’re all gonna be weird together.”

“Mm.”

“Last year was polka dots…polka dots. So count yourself lucky you weren’t around for that.”

Your mother’s homemade knitted wool Christmas sweaters have been a longstanding tradition in your family since….forever. When asked, it was your great-great grandmother that started it years ago. Or was it your great-great-great grandma? No one would be surprised if the family’s Christmas sweater fascination started way back in the simple days of the cavemen when your neanderthal ancestors were in need of warmth and for some odd reason in addition to fire and sharpened sticks, they had the supplies to create tacky garments of clothing.

You and Elvis started dating in January, so this year was full of firsts with this cold December wrapping it up lovingly in a snug little bow.

When dinner was served at Elvis’ first Thanksgiving with your family, the unusual but warmly content silence around the large, wooden dinner table was interrupted abruptly by your mother’s sudden thought. A soft gasp called for hungry heads to look up from their plates.

You would think there was a lightbulb above her head or that an epiphany to solve world hunger was in her thoughts. Your mama looked at Elvis with a gleeful smile, “I’ve gotta ‘nother Christmas sweater to make this year!” You remember the way Elvis’ smile was apprehension coating in politeness, wondering what the hell she was talking about. Your mama made clothes? How has that never come up?

His blue eyes widened for a full second about two weeks later when he was sat quickly by your mother on the couch with a gift box practically shoved in his hands. “Sit, sit ,sit!” Your mama said as if a little kid again.

The same eagerness did not translate to when you sat down, as by now you knew the routine by heart. You got practically the same gift two weeks before Christmas every single year. Just different designs, patterns, and decor but in its essence the same gift filled with the same love. This was always around the time when mama gave everyone there sweaters either in person or by mail.

Now that you think about it…this giftbox looks suspiciously similar to the same one you opened last year. Is that why your mama made sure you were careful not to break it?

The ornaments on the tree, a brand new one from last year right next to one you crafted out of popsicle sticks and cardboard in kindergarten. The nostalgia and newness blended seamlessly on the forest green branches.

The opening of boxes takes attention away from the tree, a happy presence willing to blend into the background the best it can. Your perfectly wrapped and ribboned rectangle has not even been touched but you watch intently as Elvis tries to carefully peel the tape off the side of the box. Your mother wouldn’t have minded if he tore it to shreds. She would’ve told you off if you had dared, but with Elvis it would’ve been alright.

“Y-you really didn’t hafta get me anything, ma’am. It’s real kind of you.”

Your mother replies matter of factly, “Are you kidding? It’s Christmas! Of course I had to give my son-in-law something.” You and Elvis weren’t married. Not yet. But the law of the heart doesn’t care about physical papers. In the minds of your welcoming family, new people were accepted with open arms and once their hearts got on Elvis they never want him to go.

Elvis brings his attention to you for the first time in a while, lifting your chin up gently with his hands as he admires your face. “You already blessed me with your beautiful daughter. She’s better than any gift, no doubt.” A shade of pink flushes over your face as Elvis gives you a quick, soft kiss.

“Awww. My two little turtle doves. Well, I’m allowed to give ya more than one gift so go ‘head.”

When the top of the box is lifted off, a tiny sweet sounding gasp escapes Elvis’ lips as his eyes fall on the christmas sweater. “O-oh…wow, ma’am. It’s, it’s really somethin’.”

Mama watches intently, “Do ya like it?”

He could pass for a deer in headlights. “More than like it. I can’t wait to wear it for um..Christmas.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the false enthusiasm and at this noise mom’s attention turns straight to you and the box on your lap, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “Are you too cool in front of your boyfriend to open yours?”

Shaking your head, the faint sound of Christmas radio sings in your ears as you open your first gift of Christmas. It’s red to go with Elvis’ green. Youthful to contrast with a growing daughter, homey and nostalgic to compete with a fast, changing lifestyle.

Your smile is genuine as you reply, “Thanks mama. It’s really nice.”

All three of you share the most comfortable of silences. It wasn’t silent really, music flowed through the room and firewood crackled; the background ambience that makes any December day anymore special.

The memories of your mother and her cute interactions with your boyfriend (all of which showing she approved of him greatly) was interrupted by the voice of the man himself. All of sudden you were brought back where you were: in your room getting ready with the person you love the most on the 25th of December.

“You ready to go down, honey? I think I heard some people walk in.”

“Oh..yeah! Let’s go.” Taking his hand, you walk over to the door.

“Wait a second…” Your mind immediately goes to the lamp you left on but his mind is somewhere else completely. He leans down to kiss you, long and hard. The unexpected passion takes you back but your heels stay steady on the ground, all of your attention on kissing him back with the same fervidity. His calloused hand is on your soft cheek and your fingers flow through his black hair. You want the moment to never end but like all things in life it inevitably does.

“Now we can go.” His smirk is teasing and playful. He knows the effect he has on you. He knows by your red cheeks and wide eyes how weak he can make you.

“I-” Practically speechless you just nod and take his hand, walking shakily out of the door. He laughs at the sudden urgency, slapping your behind playfully as you walk in front of him.

When your face, your whole body for that matter, started to become less warm and all of the many happy greetings to family and friends were finished, the evening was going splendidly. Laughs and cheer filled the space and joy at being back together radiated off of everyone in the room.

This year, you started to become more aware of not only yourself but your surroundings. What would this look like to a fly on the wall? What would it look like to a man attending his first Christmas with the loved ones that you have grown up being accustomed to? The Christmas tree shined brightly, decorated with a mismatched array of ornaments that went together perfectly. Every seat had a person and the garlands that Elvis hung up on the walls looked down at everyone adoringly.

From your spot standing in the open arched doorway connecting the dining room and living room you are a true wall flower for a moment. You notice how the group of younger teenage cousins brought their friends over for dinner for the first time ever and it just so happened to be the year where Elvis Presley started to attend the gathering. Giggles and whispers came from the corners of the living room, juveniles no longer embarrassed by matching tacky sweaters.

Looking away, your knowing smirk turns into a wide, adoring smile as you turn your attention to Elvis playing with your littlest cousins on the fluffy rug.

Unlike their older counterparts, their innocent smiles are refreshing for they are oblivious to the fact that it is the Elvis Presley playing with them.

To the little ones, he’s just Mr. Elvis, a friend to play with. He’s cradling the youngest baby gently in his arms while sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor. A toddler in two pigtails and a bright pink knit sweater plays in his gelled hair as if on an oblivious mission to mess it up.

Little Jane managed to get her hand on a brush and was trying to play make-believe hair salon with your boyfriend. “Sit still, Mr. Elvis!”

“Oops.” Elvis winces as the hard brush hits him on the side of the head. “I’m trying, honey, I really am. Hard when you’re trying ta pull my hair out.”

“I’m tryna make ya look pretty! If you wanna look a mess just say it.”

“Maybe sometimes I wanna look a mess.”

She groans, “You hardly got a lotta hair anyway. It’s all shiny and too hard ta make ponies.” And just like that, with an attention span the size of her tiny legs, she abandons both Elvis and the brush to go play with a group of older kids about older elementary age.

Elvis chuckles lightly and focuses on the small baby still in his lap, trying to grab at him with chubby hands. His plush lashes flutter gently as he looks down and gives the little cherub all of his pretty attention and you swear right then and there, your heart was about to escape from your chest.

“Ain’t you the cutest? You’re the cutest, ain’t ya?” The baby giggles an infectious giggle and Elvis’ smirk is just as adorable.

“I gotta get myself one of ya. A cute little baby. A littlun just like you.”

“I gotta get myself one of ya.” He’s talking to a baby, and you’re his girlfriend, the only one who can help him with that wish. Stuck in place, your legs feel weak as you lean on the wall next to you for support and your stomach can be easily compared to a snow globe filled with a flurry of snowflakes. If hearts can do somersaults, yours has many times since you’ve met Elvis.

His hand envelops one of the baby’s white socks gently. “Tiny little sooties too.”

The baby’s gummy grin gets wider as he kicks his feet, fascinated with Elvis’ hand like a new toy. Your boyfriend moves up from the itty bitty feet to tickle the tiny belly lying in front of him, then his palm relaxes, moving up and down in a soothing motion over the little one’s soft sweater. By the way Elvis’ pink lips move you can tell he has started to sing a song. It’s a quiet melody just between him and the baby he's holding. The most beautiful, adorable secrets.

When you remember that you are an actual person in the room and your legs feel less like jello, in your head you decide to walk over to the spot on the rug where Elvis is sitting but before your heels could move a second step, the ringing of a bell fills the room.

“Dinner everyone!” The voice of your mother is a saving grace to every hungry soul in the house.

Elvis stands up, holding the baby securely as if he has been a professional at holding infants his whole life. The mother, your eldest cousin, walks over shyly with a blush on her face as she carefully takes the baby from Elvis’ arms so he could go eat.

“You’ve got a really cute daughter, honey…well her mama’s cute so I know where she got it from.”

Flustered, her mouth parts a little as she adjusts the smiley baby on her hip. “O-oh. Um..thank you. Thank you very much.”

He had a way of speaking, a beautiful charm, that could make any woman he comes across blush. No matter how long the sparkly wedding ring has been on their ring finger. By the way she looked at Elvis, you wouldn’t know that the young mother has been married to her actual husband for two years. You’d think the baby in her hands was Elvis’.

Elvis smirked his “I know what I’m doing” cheeky grin and kissed the baby’s cheek before walking away.

Suddenly, You and Elvis start to walk to each other simultaneously as if all that time apart wore you out and you needed another dose, attracting like the opposite sides of the strongest magnet, the two of you meet in the middle of the room.

You’re the next to get your cheek kissed and he whispers to you, “Remember when ya said earlier that things could be worse when I was grumbling ‘bout the sweater.”

“Oh, I remember.”

He holds your hand and begins to lead you to the kitchen as he finishes his thought. “I’ll tell ya. Today couldn’t get better, honey. It really couldn’t.”

As you walk, the voices of tiny children ring out suddenly, “Mistletoe! Mistletoe!” It took Elvis tapping your shoulder and pointing up to notice that the audience was addressing you and him. Through long lashes you look up and indeed a piece of green hangs above in the archway that you and Elvis stand in. To any on-looker the image of you two could’ve been a painting. You indeed felt frozen in time.

“It’s the mistletoe! That’s your boyfriend, you gotta kiss!” The tiny voices continued their protesting.

Elvis smiles at you, “Well, I guess it could get a little better. It’s bad luck to ignore the mistletoe. Need to feel ya on me…been too long.”

“Merry Christmas, Elvis.” Just like that, you reach up and kiss him, your thumb moving back and forth on his cheek as you tilt your head to the side. He starts kissing you back immediately and an eruption of tiny cheers fills the room.

#merry christmas #happy new year #very quickly proofread #not beta'd #elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #50s elvis #elvis x reader #60s elvis #70s elvis #vintage #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley x reader #elvis fluff #elvis x you #elvis x y/n

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 5 months

Text

1st Day of Christmas

A Sneaky Christmas Surprise

Summary/Prompt - “Did you break into my house??” “You refused to put up any Christmas decorations! What choice did I have?”

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

Christmas Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Here we go! Day 1! Let’s hope I can keep this up for the next 24 days! I hope you enjoy this.

You’ve been working as a makeup artist on the set of Supernatural for a few years now. Being so well versed in the talent of creating realistic bruises and bloody scars anyone would assume your favourite holiday is Halloween, but it’s actually Christmas. You love sappy Christmas movies, carols and most of all decorating. You’d just been counting down the days until it became socially acceptable to erect your tree. As soon as Thanksgiving weekend finished you had it out of the box and in pride of place by the widow covered in sparkling lights and beautiful ornaments. You would’ve had it up earlier if your boyfriend hadn’t threatened to stop sleeping over if you put it up any earlier than that. You love him, he is the sweetest and most caring boyfriend you’ve ever had, but his Christmas spirit tends to lack a little. But this year you’re determined to get him in the spirit.

You’re awakened from your reverie by a knock on the makeup trailer door and then the familiar creek of the metal hinges. Then two strong familiar arms wrap around your middle from behind.

“Hey Sexy. You ready to head out?” he asks in his deep, Dean voice.

You turn around in his arms and notice he’s still fully in costume. “Sorry, Dean. I already have a date. Let’s see if we can’t find him somewhere in here,” you tease as you reach for a makeup wipe to clean off the intricate SFX makeup you applied earlier. A few wipes later you start to recognise Jensen as himself again. As a final touch, you drag your hands through his short hair to loosen up the gel and soften the look. You take a step back and admire your work. “Yep, there he is.”

“You know, Jared gets jealous he has to scrub off his own makeup. But I just tell him it’s his own fault for picking an actress instead of a makeup artist.”

“Don’t be mean. Gen is lovely, and Jared can come here anytime and I’ll do it for him too if he wants.”

“No way. This is my special service, plus I know you don’t get paid to stay here late like this.”

“I thought what we did back at your place last night was your special service. And you know it isn’t about the money, I love what I do here.”

“I know you do. That’s one of the things I love about you. Come on, at least let me buy you dinner and then we can go back to my place for some of that other special service.”

You throw the dirty wipes in the bin and then grab his hand urging him to stand up. Once he does you shut off the lights, lock up the trailer and walk hand-in-hand out to his car. He drives to your favourite local takeout place while you both share stories about your day.

Once you’ve picked up dinner he drives back to his apartment. You generally love his place; it’s so much bigger and more spacious than yours with an amazing view. The only thing that makes it lose its appeal is that it’s never festive for any holiday. You’ve always lived in Vancouver so your apartment is your home whereas you know he doesn’t see Vancouver as home; his apartment is just a place he crashes while he works. His true home is Austin, Texas. But you’re determined to spread and share a little Christmas joy with him before you inevitably part ways for the holidays once filming finishes.

What he doesn’t know is that you had a little spare time today, as you were only needed on set in the morning, and you only came back to keep up a facade. So you snuck his car and house keys from his trailer and went on a little Christmas shopping spree before going back to his place to give your purchases a new home. You were very happy and proud of what you managed to accomplish in such a short time and on your own. And it makes coming over to see his reaction all the more exciting.

As he pulls into his driveway you have to try really hard to contain your excitement and nerves; you know you’re not the best actor. You have no idea how Jensen can just turn into a completely different person in an instant when you struggle to keep a poker face to contain little white lies. You hold the bag of food while you wait for him to come around and open your door so he can take it. He takes the food and helps you get out before passing the food back so he can unlock the door. As he flicks on the lights he notices the big fibre optic tree by the window, and little ornaments carefully and strategically scattered around the place.

He turns to you as you join him inside. “Was this you? Did you break into my apartment?”

You nod sheepishly. “You refused to put up any Christmas decorations, what choice did I have?”

He takes the food and places it on the kitchen bench before pulling you into his arms for a tight hug. “It looks great, Sweetheart. But you could have just asked, I would’ve helped.”

You shake your head. “You already said you didn’t see the point because this isn’t your home.”

“Here with you, it’s starting to feel more like home every day. I spend more time here than in Texas now. There’s a lot we need to discuss, but first, I’m starving!”

He kisses you and then pulls away to gather plates, cups and cutlery while you spread out the food. You dish out the food onto the two plates, while he pours some wine into the glasses and then takes them over to the coffee table. He sits on the couch and starts flicking through the channels while waiting for you to bring the food. You go through this routine almost nightly in either your or his apartment. You know that’s one of the many things you need to discuss, but right now you just want to enjoy a sappy Christmas movie and some yummy dinner with your boyfriend in his now festive apartment.

#jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x you

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 2 years

Note

Thanksgiving with gentle giant! Jason?

Jason set the pan you'd sent him with down in the kitchen, "Need any help?" he asked.

"You didn't bring-"

"She's working for Charlie until his ex's mom picks the kids up," he said, "Then she'll get cleaned up and-"

"She doesn't have to dress-"

"She had a keg like explode or something when she was setting up for the Straggler's Dinner at the bar," Jason snorted.

"Ah," Alfred said, "Well then that makes perfect sense. What did she send?"

"I didn't look," Jason admitted, "But I think she made some bourbon balls and a couple kinds of fudge?"

"Bless her," Alfred said, "You did tell her-"

"In her house you don't show up to dinner empty-handed," Jason said smiling a little.

________

Jason opened the door and exhaled slowly, relieved that you made it. The roads were getting slick and- even if you'd told him you were running late when you called him, flustered and panting as you struggled with a bra on wet skin- it didn't mean he wasn't watching the clock and fretting.

"I'm so sorry I'm late-"

"It's alright," Jason interrupted, kissing you quiet as he ushered you inside out of the chill. "Dinner's not late or anything. I let Alfred know when you called."

"I still feel bad I hate being late-"

"Not to worry," Alfred said coming to take your coat, "In this house getting everyone in one place at an appointed time is a minor miracle."

Jason helped you out of your coat and smiled a little, "Y/N, Alfred, Alfred this is Y/N."

"Pleased to meet you," you tell him, smiling breaking off just briefly to make a noise suggestive of strangulation when Jason's attempt to untangle your scarf only resulted in more tangles.

"As soon as Jason is done strangling you, Miss Stephanie is demanding I let her get into your Candy," Alfred said smiling, "I've been told it's 'life-changing."

"I don't know about that but-"

"Shut up it's good," Jason said kissing your head.

"Listen my candy thermometer got put in the dishwasher and it was very stressful yesterday-"

"Miss Y/N." Alfred said winking, "If you don't tell them, they'd never know. Just pretend you meant to do it like that."

"If Y/N is here can I get the Bourbon balls out?" Steph called down the hall.

"Lord," Alfred said, "If you'll excuse me-" And before he could finish that sentence, he'd strode off to keep Stephanie and Dick from ruining the way he'd arranged everything to be served.

"Ready for this?" Jason asked, kissing you.

"Ready as I'll ever be- I haven't done a normal family dinner in... god 6 years? Maybe longer. Mom stopped doing real dinners when Ty left for college."

"Well- if worse comes to worst you can always have Charlie call and tell you the ice machine caught fire again."

"That damn ice machine," you snort, taking the arm he offered to let him lead you into the dining room.

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #gentle giant!jason #ask answered #minors dni

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thepenultimateword · 1 year

Text

Long Prompt #89

Hero’s armed were beginning to throb. It had been over half an hour since they’d snared themself in this back alley, wrists bound together and raised straight over their head, like some sort of trussed pig ready for the roast.

Usually they would have dodged it. Usually they wouldn’t have tripped it in the first place, but they’d been so… Desperate wasn’t the right word, maybe adamant? …so adamant about finding Villain that they had barely noticed the thing, it’s glinting wire body lurking in the shadows of the buildings.

They probably should have called for help by now…But the thought of being found like this was, well, more than a little humiliating.

“Hero?” a rich, velvety voice purred. “In one of my traps? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Villain sauntered into view grinning. They weren’t in their usual costume, instead sporting an tricolored sweater in blocks of brown, orange, and cream. They also had a large Tupperware tucked under one arm.

Well, it looked like Hero found them but not under the circumstances they wanted.

“Awww, you’re blushing!” Villain cooed.

“Shut up!”

“Aren’t you always bragging about your super intuition and lightning fast reflexes?”

“I said shut up!”

“And of all traps, a little snare meant to keep door to door salesman out of the lair. What are you even doing here?”

“I— Wait. What was that second to last part?”

“Oh, don’t worry, they learn fast. I actually haven’t snared one of those in months. Now, little egoistic heroes with pretty blue eyes on the other hand…” They grinned wider. “That’s the catch of the day.”

Hero squirmed a little in their bonds, wincing at the way the the pin and needles under their skin stung as they rubbed against the bindings. “Can you just let me down?”

“Reasons first.”

Hero glared but after a moment they finally relented. “I was…looking for you…”

“Aw, I’m flattered.” They circled Hero, sharp eyes studying the tight squeeze of their bindings. “But it’s a holiday. Probably not the best idea to assume I was at my workplace.”

“Er…that’s the thing. I was thinking… Since you don’t have anyone to spend Thanksgiving with, maybe you could come over to my place and—“

“Who said I have no one to spend Thanksgiving with?”

The rest of Hero’s sentence froze on their lips. They knew that they were staring too long, but they couldn’t seem to shut their mouth. Or blink.

“The other villains and I get together every year. Supervillain makes a mean pumpkin pie.”

“Oh,” Hero said finally. It was the most they could get out.

Villain suddenly narrowed their eyes, those daggerish pupils boring right through their skull.

“Hero, do you not have anyone to spend Thanksgiving with?”

“I… Of course I do! I was just… You know, there’s so many people coming over later that I better finish up my preparations. Gotta…clean the house, make the…er…stuffing. In fact I think I left my turkey in the oven! So, could you let me down now?”

Villain’s grin had all but disappeared. The ghost of it still weakly clinging to the curve of their mouth, a forced ugly thing that made Hero feel small.

“Please?” they added, a little harsher than they intended.

“Hero… Do you want to come to my Thanksgiving?”

#sort of a snippet #sort of a prompt #it’s a snompt #prompt #writing prompt #hero x villain #heroes and villains community #heroes and villains #hero x villain community #writblr #writeblr #thanksgiving

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imdoingsortagay · 1 year

Text

The Dabloons

Summary: Agatha understood what TikTok was, but this new trend confused her.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: yes I am writing a blurb of this don't @ me, i just wanted Agatha and fluff so this is it ig

warnings: dabloons, fluff, cooking, sweet stuff, Wanda and viz are here, and so are the kids.

Reblogs are appreciated! Happy reading !!!

“ Babe,”

“ yes aggie ?” you yell back to your girlfriend.

“ Did you take out the trash as I told you? “ she asks, trying her best to get the house cleaned up before the Maximoffs came over for Thanksgiving dinner.

Could she have easily used her magic to clean the whole house? Yes

Was she convinced by you to not use magic all the time as she wanted to be “ normal “? Yes, and you even used puppy eyes too.

When she got to the living room, Agatha expected it to be clean but is shocked to see you on the couch with your phone in hand and a piece of paper in your lap.

“ Babe what the heck did I tell you ? “ and you look up from your phone to see a very mad Agatha, apron around her , looking tired as hell and you think of a way how to not piss her off even more. Both of you stay in silence as she waits for an answer from you, wondering what you must be doing.

“ well you told me to pick up the trash and I was gonna do it but I had some important matters to attend and now I’m here, “ you explain, Agatha’s not reacting at all to this.

“Dabloon bank,” she reads aloud,” why the heck are you keeping track of pirate currency honey?”

“ because it’s fun?” no reaction from your girlfriend.

“ Explain later and just throw out the trash honey,” she tells you.

“ let me just write down the last of what I got from this person's shop Aggie and I’ll-”

“ y/n, if I don't see all the trash in the house thrown out in 20 minutes, you aren’t getting some of my special brownies after dinner,” she says which of course gets you right off the couch to get all the trash, brownies made by your sweet Agatha always are your weakness. Agatha makes her way back to the kitchen to continue preparing what’s left of the dinner when you walk into the kitchen with your phone in hand along with the same paper from earlier.

“ Aggie,” you say and make your way to the counter, sitting on one of the stools as she prepares the batter for the brownies.

“ what do you need sweet superstar? “ she asks.

“ Can I explain to you what the dabloon economy is? “

“ When I’m not busy babe,” she tells you, sad that she can’t hear whatever weird trend is going on with the app you seem to be attached to nowadays. Humans always seem to come up with the silliest things to keep their minds entertained, Agatha has been witness to this in her 300+ plus years of living, and even with you showing her every trend that went on in the app it always left her confused.

3 hours later

The food was done in the kitchen, you were eagerly waiting to see your friends after weeks of being busy, and Agatha was just about getting done getting ready when the doorbell rang. It was the first thanksgiving that she’d be celebrating with people so everything had to be perfect as she did not want to disappoint her friends.

“ Don’t worry Aggie i got it,” she hears you yell from the living room, not a second later hearing cheers from her friends along with the twin boys. As soon as she got the rest of her makeup done, Agatha made her way to the front where everyone is. While you are dragged to the living room by the twins, she takes a moment to talk to the couple.

“ You look amazing Agatha! And I love what you’ve done with the place,” Wanda exclaims, happy to see her friend thriving and well.

“ I could say the same about you superstar,” she shoots back at Wanda while Vision is just happy to see that his wife is in a good mood.

“ And you Viz, How has life been treating you? She asks the man and she lets out a sigh of relief.

“ happy to play the part of stay-at-home parent for now but the boy could not stop talking about this silly little dabloons trend,” he explains to her.

“ Dabloons? Isn’t that pirate money ?” Agatha asks them. Wanda takes over on explaining what dabloons are to her dear old friend while Viz listens to the conversation.

Agatha thought it was just a silly little game going on within the app and didn't realize there were whole governments, jobs, and even governments being formed over this. It’s no wonder you got all excited earlier to explain how all of this works.

While this conversation was happening, the boys were in the living room with you, papers in hand given by you as they try their best to remember how many dabloons they have.

“ you don’t have 1000 dabloons Tommy, remember the rule about getting anything over 100 in each video,” billy tells his brother as she erases the amount he had on the paper.

“ Not if you get caught dummy, no dabloon cops have gotten me,” Tommy says and you giggle at how invested these two are with this as much as you are. Within two days of the dabloon trend, you have earned alot of dabloons, gotten robbed, given a cat, and even bought a house with said dabloons.

It was a trend that made you very happy and you wanted to very much explain to your girlfriend, but sadly understood she had to make the dinner for today so you decided to wait until she wasn’t busy.

“ How many do you have y/n?” Tommy asks you, as he tries to take a peek at the paper in the notebook but you are smart enough to know.

“ Just to steal them Huh Tommy?” you ask and billy giggles at you. After a couple of moments, you get distracted and you fail to notice when the young boy gets your paper as a way to steal some of the dabloons. Agatha hears laughter erupting from the living room so she leaves the couple to talk amongst themselves to see the boys chasing you around as both of them work together for stealing the dabloons.

“ Agatha help me please, my dabloons have been stolen by these robbers,” you say dramatically running to her, playing the part as the boys look at the older woman, trying their best to appear innocent.

“ Did you protect them with your energy baby?”

“ Well um,” you say quietly to her and she giggles a bit.

“ Rule number one honey: protect what’s yours. Lucky you, i’m here in your honor, “ she says and kneels down to the same height as the boys to negotiate with the twins to give you back the dabloons. 10 minutes of talks later, Agatha gives you back the paper, promising to give the boys some of her special brownies to take home with them after dinner but you didn't need to worry about that.

Dinner after that is all good ad you praise Agatha for how well of a cook she is, over the moon at another one of her talents which makes her blush a bit. Her guests said the same thing as well, calming her mind down a bit after worrying all day as to whether the food would be up to their standards. Dessert went super well as she decided on making apple pie for the adults and brownies for the boys and by the end of the night, everyone is full from all the food cooked but Agatha provides them with enough leftovers to last them a week.

Once the Maximoff have left for their home, Agatha quickly uses her magic to clean the kitchen, not wanting to waste time on that so she could spend the rest of the night with you.

“ Hey superstar,” you hear Agatha say as she walks into your shared room to find you in bed, under the blanket watching tiktoks as usual.

“ hi aggie,” you say as she uses her magic to get out of the clothes into comfier ones.

“ What happened to not using magic all the time Aggie? “

“ I do not want to waste time, just wanna spend it all being close to you, and maybe you can also explain tha dabloon thing now,” she tells you cuddling with you.

“ Are you sure? I don’t want to annoy you and you must be tired from cleaning, i don’t want to -”

“ honey, you can never annoy me,” she pauses,” I always want to hear anything new about you, don't you ever think that.”

The rest of the night is spent with you in Agatha's arms going over anything and everything that has to do with the dabloon trend until you get too sleepy to go on and fall asleep in her arms. It doesn’t take too long for Agatha to fall asleep right after you.

The older woman holding you is forever grateful to have met you, able to see you all happy about what makes you smile.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x reader #lizs writing

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buttercup-fluffalove · 6 months

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note from the buttermom: thank you thank you thank you to everyone who posted comments sending good wishes to buttercup. here's an update on everyone's favorite floofy baby:

on wednesday buttercup seemed a little aloof, hanging out on her favorite chair instead of stalking me like she always does. i was concerned but chalked it up to the fact that i was running around like a crazy person prepping for thanksgiving and wasn't giving her the attention she needed.

then on thursday she was way off. way way off. very lethargic, slinking away when i tried to pet her, drool staining her mouth and discharge around her nose, and her breath was even worse than kitty breath should be. my panic was mounting all day long as i fought not to google her symptoms (because i default to impending-doom-mode). by evening i was beside myself with worry but also worried i was overreacting; finally my husband practically shoved me out the door to take her to the emergency vet, if only so i wouldn't keep him up all night worrying.

initially the vet thought she just had an upper respiratory infection, based on her nasal discharge, drool, and lethargy. however upon her exam they noted the bad breath and that her belly was extremely sensitive - she did her big girl 'leave me alone' growl the moment they touched her. those are both tell-tale signs of an intestinal blockage so they took her back for imaging.

which i could hear her not enjoying from the waiting room. they ultimately had to sedate her to get a proper image and exam done. i got to snuggle her while the drugs kicked in though so that was nice.

when she was calm enough they were able to get some imaging and discovered what they call a "linear foreign body" - eg she had swallowed some string or yarn. (there was also some still stuck in her mouth, wrapped around and under her tongue.) this is exceptionally dangerous because one end can get snagged in the digestive track while the rest of it continues to get pushed through, resulting in the small intestine essentially bunching itself up like a tube sock, and then it can start to shred. when that happens, the only way to repair it is to remove the damaged sections of intestine.

if i hadn't brought her in, she would have died.

she needed surgery immediately.

they gave me a few moments alone with her, during which i sobbed uncontrollably and told how much i love her and that she needed to be brave and strong and come home to me.

then they took her back and sent me home, where i continued to cry and clean up every last inch of the lower level of the house of anything that could possibly be string or string-adjacent. (today i tackle the upper level.)

finally around 4 am they called me with the best possible version of this horrible situation: the string had only gotten as far as her stomach. they were able to remove it from her stomach, esophagus, and mouth, and there was no sign that it had moved into her small intestine so they didn't have to do any further cutting. there may be small remnants passing through, and her pancreas is inflamed which is rather concerning, so she needs to be monitored for a while still.

they'll be keeping her for at least the rest of today (friday), maybe tomorrow too. they need to make sure she's eating again (i'm pretty sure she hadn't eaten in almost 2 days), properly hydrated, and using the litterbox - all of which are signs that her intestines haven't been damaged and are working properly.

i may get a chance to visit her this afternoon, and will post further updates as i know more.

i am so grateful to the staff at the emergency vet hospital - and even more grateful that they were open last night on the holiday, given that every other vet clinic in 100 miles was closed. they were so kind to me as i broke down crying in the office, and were completely in love with buttercup at first sight (who isn't?) and ready to do anything and everything to save her life.

the house is painfully quiet and empty without the magnificent butterbeast prowling the halls. cross your fingers and toe-beans that she'll be able to come home soon and have a speedy recovery, with lots of good drugs to keep her calm and pain-free as she heals. she'll have to wear the angry lamp for a while, but she's going to be okay.

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michelle-is-writing · 2 years

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Christmas Party, Spencer Reid

I know it's July, but I was in a Christmas kind of mood :)

Word Count: 1.8k~

The month of December is full of many activities; holiday decorating, walks in the chilly air, and my favorite, baking. Thankfully, I've been able to do a lot of that as I've had to babysit for my sister thanks to mandatory overtime at her work. My nephew is always looking for something to keep his hands busy, so mixing batter and cleaning dishes with me is perfect for him. Plus, my boyfriend likes my nephew, and he certainly doesn't mind coming home to sweets on the counter.

Today is different, however. I don't have anything on my agenda today, so I'm free to do whatever I want. I spent the first half of the day cleaning the house and grocery shopping, but as two o'clock rolls around, I just relax and sit back with my favorite show playing in the background. It's a complete change from the last couple of weeks as I've constantly been on my feet, but even though it's relaxing, I can't help but feel the need to get up and do something. However, my phone buzzes beside me before I can think of something to do.

Spencer: I know I told you the Christmas party starts at 6, but do you think you can bring those chocolate cupcakes you make for when you babysit your nephew?

Seeing Spencer's message pop up on my phone makes me smile, my fingers instantly typing back a response.

Of course I can babe How many? One or two dozen

A few seconds pass before he sends back a text.

Spence: You might want to do two. They're going to love your cupcakes.

I can't help but smile even more while replying a quick response, already planning everything out in my head. Spencer takes every chance he gets to make me feel proud about anything I do. I don't think he realizes how much that means to me.

Taking everything I need out of the fridge, I measure everything out and add it into my mixer before combining it all. I try to be precise with everything, not wanting to mess anything up. I have yet to meet his team as we've only just moved in together, so I want to make a good impression - how could I not? I'm not sure how long this all might take but I don't want to be late showing up with them either.

While the cupcakes are in the oven, I make the frosting. Once the cupcakes are out of the oven, I look over at the clock and see it's only a little past three. With the extra time, I take the opportunity to go to our bedroom and get ready. After all, going to Spencer's workplace in my messy around-the-clothes isn't very appropriate.

Walking into mine and Spencer's room, I go through our closet and look for something nice. I could always wear the dress he got me for Thanksgiving or a pair of black slacks with a nice blouse. It's nothing serious, but I don't want to wear jeans and a t-shirt. Plus, I want Spencer to like what I'm wearing as well.

As I ponder through ideas of what I can wear, I come across a dress I got as a Christmas gift from a family member. It's a solid dark blue dress with long sleeves and tortoise-shell-colored buttons adorning one of the hips. I don't know why she thought of me when she saw the dress on a clothes rack in a JCPenny store, but nonetheless, she got it for me and I appreciate it. Maybe I can wear it today… it does look nice and professional, so, I should.

After sliding on a pair of black nylon tights, I pull the dress over my head and down my body, the thick, but stretchy material clinging to my waist and hips. Upon looking in the mirror, I smile and brush my hands over my curves, happy with the look of everything. I then comb my hair out of my face before applying a little makeup to my eyes. Looking at the final product, I let out an excited, yet nervous breath as I think about Spencer's possible reactions to the slightly sexy dress. I definitely think he'll like it.

After frosting the cupcakes and getting them packed for the party, I slip on a pair of matching blue heels before heading to Spencer's building. The ride there fills me with so much anxiety I have to remind myself it's not that scary. Spencer wanted me to go to their party so I could meet his co-workers as they've all been bugging him over when they get to meet me. In the year that we've been together, he's told me a lot about them; I think I'm most excited to meet Penelope as she seems like such a fun person to hang out with.

Once I pull up to the large building, I see Spencer waiting outside for me thanks to me sending him a quick text once I left our apartment. The first thing that catches my eye isn't the Christmas sweater I bought for him, but rather the sparkly red Santa hat on his head. Upon seeing him, I smile and park in the closest parking spot before getting out to greet him. He beats me to it because as soon as I climb out of my seat and stand on top of the tarred lot, his arms are around me.

"The guys were practically berating me on how far away you were," Spencer admits to me, making me laugh as I pull back to look at him. "Especially Garcia, she will not stop," He adds, but his words slowly grow quieter as his eyes trail down to look at my dress. He's never seen it before, but going by his almost entranced look, I should've worn it sooner.

Smiling back at him, I rest my arms around his neck. "You look handsome as ever," I compliment him, looking up to see him grin at my words. "Especially this shiny thing," I gesture up to his hat, bringing a small laugh from his lips.

"Thank Garcia for that," He tells me, "She got one for everyone. She has one for you too, don't worry."

His revelation brings a certain warmth to my chest as he moves to take the box holding all of the cupcakes out of my floorboard. Following after him into his building, we wait for security to buzz us in while Spencer takes the brief moment of silence to lean in close and kiss my cheek.

"I absolutely love that dress on you," he murmurs to me, making me blush beet red. Smiling, I look anywhere but him as the door in front of us opens, letting us go in. Like, I said: any chance he gets to compliment me, he takes it.

Walking through the maze of desks with him, I can't help but still feel a little shy. We walk until we stop at the room where all of Spence's close friends from work are in. Once we enter the room, I see them talking to each other, every single one of them having a Santa hat on their head just as Spencer said.

Staying in the doorway, I watch and observe while Spencer places the cupcakes in the middle of the room's table. As he does this, Penelope and Derek walk over to me with smiles on their faces. "You must be (Y/n)!" Penelope greets me with a firm hug, making me smile.

"Yes, and you must be Penelope," I tell her once she pulls away. Looking over at the tall man beside her, I give him a small nod. "And you must be Derek," I note, remembering the many stories Spencer has told me about him and Garcia with her even calling him "chocolate thunder." The man quickly nods with a smile and holds out his hand, which I shake.

"Reid has told us a lot about you," Penelope tells me with an excited voice making me lightly laugh.

"Good things, hopefully," I joke, feeling a familiar arm wrap around my waist and pull me close. Instantly, I feel myself lose any ounce of nervousness I had thanks to his touch.

"Every single one of them," Derek assures me as I look up at the owner of the arm, brunet hair and honey-colored eyes catching my sight. I smile up at Spencer as he smiles back before looking at his two friends.

"Oh! I got this for you!" Penelope yells before jogging over to a table on the opposite side the room and running back, placing a sparkly (f/c) blur on my head. Giggling at her silliness, I reach up and feel something scratchy, only to find out it's a (f/c) Santa hat. "Spencer said it was your favorite color," she explains, making my heart clench even more as I happily adjust it on my head.

The rest of the day is spent meeting and greeting everyone, each of them very nice and fun to talk to. JJ and Prentiss seemed very interesting and they even gave me their phone numbers so we could plan a girl's night out with Penelope and JJ. Hotch seemed like a strict, yet happy guy who barely smiled, but he was fairly happy to see that Spencer had me by his side. Rossi was cool to talk to as he told me about how Spencer talks nonstop about me, causing me to laugh and Spencer to blush.

Overall, I felt happy meeting the people Spencer spent most of his time with, and in my opinion, if I had to spend a majority of my time with a group of people, I'd want it to be them as well. By the end of it, I felt close to all of them like Spencer does - like a family.

"Thank you for introducing me to them," I tell Spencer as we relax in each other's hold in the back of the room. My arms hang around Spencer's neck like earlier, my body resting against his as his arms lazily rest against my hips. With smiles on our faces, we watch as the guys happily eat the sweets I brought, Spencer's words coming true.

"Of course, love," Spencer tells me, pressing a kiss to my Santa-hat-covered head. "I kept telling you they'd love you - was I wrong?" At his question, I smile at him and rest my head against his chest, staring up at his face as he continues peering back at me. In his arms, I find myself questioning how this man can make me forget any fear or worry I have just by simply holding me, and with that, I couldn't ask for more.

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dcbbw · 1 year

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American Thanksgiving

This original story is my submission (if it isn’t too late) for a writing challenge that has now closed. (Gonna post it anyway) I decided to go with a holiday (Thanksgiving) theme, and I am really, truly crossing fingers hoping it all makes sense.

THANK YOU to those who read this over and assured me it wasn’t boring and for giving me the idea that maybe I can follow-up on these characters for Christmas. A huge THANK YOU to all who will read this.

Please, please, please forgive any typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. While MS Editor rates this as 99% error free, it’s me and I am tired and it’s getting really close to my bedtime.

All characters belong to me

Word Count: 4,775

Song Inspiration: Wash., Bon Iver

No triggers or warnings that I can think of, but there are mature themes in this story. If you find any part of the content disturbing, please let me know so I can tag appropriately.

PS--For anyone curious why Scott Peterson is an unfortunate name choice, here’s your answer.

Atlanta, GA

“You look pretty, Linda,” Yoyo grudgingly complimented me as I slip my feet inside of brown pumps that are barely on the right side of being termed worse for wear.

It’s Thanksgiving Day, one of the few days of the year the shelter allows us to stay in all day; even better, we’re allowed to stay in bed all day with the exception of meals. For those of us fortunate enough to have somewhere to go, curfew is extended until 8pm.

This year, I’m among the fortunate. My sister Lisa is having dinner at her house: it will be a small affair with Lisa’s husband and daughter, our sister Lucy and her family, and my son Famir. I haven’t seen my only child in over a decade because of my drug addiction; I last saw him when he was 13.

It was for the best.

I’ve lived a life of street corners and jail cells.

Lisa raised him right, keeping my son off the streets, and involved in studies and sports. And now my baby is 28 years old, headed to Dubai to work for an international finance company. I have no idea when I’ll see him again after today.

I rise from the side of the twin bed, tossing Yoyo a quick glance. “Thank you. I’m sorry you won’t be with your family today.”

I am rummaging in my locker for my only pair of earrings; my eyes fall upon my 30-day chip.

Thirty days clean.

It’s a milestone for me, one that I’m proud of and am eager to share with my son. Finally, after decades given to the streets, I’m ready to rejoin society and be the mother he deserves. I quickly attach the jewelry to my earlobes, swipe on some lipstick, and tug the slightly too-small sweater dress down around my knees; I am just pulling on a shabby wool coat, turquoise in color with a faux-fur collar, when my name is called over the loudspeaker.

I shut the locker door, and again catch sight of Yoyo; she has her bedcovers pulled up to her chin. Her face is in profile, and I see tears shine her ebony-colored cheeks as she stares at the bare branches of the tree outside the window.

“I’ll bring you back some pie,” I promise as I hurry out the door.

Lucy is waiting for me at the shelter’s entrance. She looks … expensive. Her coat is a simple, yet stylish, ankle-length gray wool. Underneath is a black jumpsuit, complemented with a heavy turquoise pendant. Her hair is perfectly styled, her olive complexion smooth. When we hug, I smell her fragrance; it’s a woodsy floral. Her red lipstick imprints itself on my cheek when she kisses me.

My sister chats excitedly about how happy everyone is I’m coming to dinner as we walk to her Lexus SUV; I’m fastening my seatbelt when she presses money into my hand. I glance down and back at her, pleasantly puzzled. I didn’t agree to come to dinner for a financial reason.

“You’re doing good, Linda. I don’t know if you’re still using or not, but you’ve been in one place for almost two months. It’s … progress, and progress should be rewarded.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly. I stare out the passenger window, looking at dilapidated houses and cracked sidewalks pass by before peppering my sister with questions.

“How’s Famir? Is he good? Does he know I’m coming?”

I feel the shift in Lucy’s demeanor as the car gently brakes at a stoplight., and my shoulders tense ever so slightly.

We’re at the infamous intersection known to us locals as the War Zone; it’s a red-light district where prostitutes, drug dealers, and gang bangers converge. A few homeless folks, too old or too riddled with illness to support their habits, huddle inside of bus shelters, their outstretched hands silently begging for money from the few passersby.

Women with skinny bodies and dead eyes sit on the stoops of vacant houses that are boarded over and splashed with graffiti, watchful for both potential johns and the police. There are no holidays here, no 30-day chips, no hope.

“He’s not coming,” my sister says softly. “He’s attending a Friendsgiving or something.”

The hurt I feel at hearing her words is physical; my gut aches, as if I’ve been sucker-punched. My baby, my reason for getting clean, the only person I want to see today … is abandoning me when I need him most.

Tit for tat.

I already know the answer, but I ask the question anyway. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

I feel my sister’s hand grip my wrist. Her voice has tears in it when she replies. “Famir just needs time to process things. It’s a lot of pain and broken bridges between you two. He needs to see that you’re changing for the better, for real this time.”

Except he can’t see if he isn’t showing up.

I am quiet as tears burn the corners of my eyes; my heart sinks as I realize that I’ll never get a chance to show him that I do love him, have always loved him. That my decisions, which appear selfish on the surface, were actually borne of wanting the best for him. I couldn’t be his mother and pimped by drugs at the same time.

I feel Lucy’s eyes on me. “Lin, don’t cry! He can still swing by after his dinner for dessert. You may still be able to see him!”

But I no longer want to go. I can’t deal with facing my son’s condemnation and judgement. In my mind for the past two weeks, I had visions of a picture-perfect reunion: forgiveness, healing, my son and I beaming and basking in the pride of my triumphant return to life and his understanding of my choices.

My thirty days of sobriety has given me just enough clarity to realize the problem is I can only see it from my perspective: I didn’t abandon him; I gave him to his aunt who was better equipped to raise him. Unsure if I cannot or merely refuse to see the situation through Famir’s eyes.

I may be ready to function in society, but I am unprepared to deal with reality.

“Let me out,” I say.

“What? No!”

“STOP THE FUCKING CAR!” I yell forcefully, emotions tearing me apart.

Lucy stops the car in front of a rundown strip mall; only the McDonald’s and 7-11 are open. Panhandlers loiter around both doorways. I recognize three of the folks: Two are well-known drug dealers, conversing in front of the liquor store; Doobie and Minnesota Fats. The third is my former street-running partner, Pinky; she’s eating fries while squatting in front of the beauty supply store.

Lucy is openly crying, her hands gripping the steering wheel. “LINDA! Don’t let this be a setback! Famir may not be ready, but your sisters, your niece, your nephews ARE! What am I supposed to tell everyone?”

There is a soft thump as her forehead hits the colorful fabric encircling the wheel.

I shove the wad of cash into my coat pocket while unlocking the passenger door.

“You can tell them I had 30 days sober.”

I exit the vehicle, walking briskly to meet up with my past. My present. My future.

Wilson, NC

The two women at across from each other at the dining room table; their dinner plates were before them: Cornish hen, mashed potatoes drenched in giblet gravy, dressing, and buttered green peas. Two dessert plates in the middle of the table held slices of pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream.

Ella Fitzgerald sang softly from a vintage phonograph player.

A beautiful cherrywood Dutch cabinet with paned windows lined one wall of the room; inside was fine china and glassware on the lower shelves. The top two ledges held photographs: wedding photos; baby pictures; group photos of military units; people long dead, their faces forever captured in laughter and smiles at parties and picnics.

Alice Cooper was saying the prayer, her lips moving slowly against the sides of her hands which were pressed close to her mouth. Her thin blonde hair lay in limp curls against her wrinkled cheeks.

“Dear Lord, thank You for another day filled with small mercies and bigger blessings. Amen.”

She opened her pale blue eyes, clouded over with cataracts, to see her oldest, and best friend Anna Horowitz slicing into her hen. Anna was short to Alice’s tall, and stout to her friend’s skinny. Anna’s hair was steel gray and pulled back in a severe bun. Her still-dark eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as she cut.

Alice’s gaze went from Anna to her own dinner plate, then to the slices of pie. “I think I want pie first.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alice! Eat your supper, then you can have dessert.”

“Land’s sake, Anna! It’s Thanksgiving! It’s all about the pie!”

“Turkey,” Anna corrected as she dragged her fork through the potatoes.

“Does it look like we’re eating turkey?”

“The Macy’s parade was lovely, don’t you think?” Anna changed the subject, covertly watching Alice finally begin eating her dinner.

“It used to be so much better, it’s way too modern now but the singing tree was nice.”

The two women had been friends for over 70 years, having first met in the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps in 1954. Despite their advanced age of 93, the two women were still extremely active: working two days a week at the Wilson County American Legion office, gardening, participating in a senior exercise class at the local YMCA, church, and meandering around the local flea markets and thrift shops.

They had been roommates for the past 15 years, when Anna’s husband died. To avoid infighting amongst her children, who Anna freely admitted were hooligans, she sold her brick ranch house and divided the proceeds equally between her and her offspring; what furniture no one wanted was donated. Anna then moved into the four bedroom, 3 bath Victorian with bay windows and wraparound porch with Alice and changed her phone number.

Alice had no children; she had been widowed at the age of 40. She never remarried, choosing to stay in the house she and her husband had purchased with dreams of raising a family and throwing dinner parties in mind.

Until the Vietnam War.

Until high-ranking Army officials knocked on her door, their expressions grim.

“This hen is tasty,” Anna complimented.

“I was worried because I didn’t have enough rosemary.”

“It’s perfect!” Anna reassured as she took another bite. “We need to start planning what we’re going to do for our 100th birthday.”

Alice placed her fork carefully on her plate. “You’ve lost mind! That’s still a long ways out.”

“Seven years! We can do seven years, Alice We’ve done the hard part making it to 93! Hell, if we make it to 95, we can round up!”

Alice stared at the tablecloth for a few moments, her expression pensive. “I don’t know, Anna. It’s been a good life, a full life, but ever since Don was killed … it’s been a lonely one.”

Anna reached for her glass of sweet tea. “I know,” she commiserated.

She did know. Ever since her George had succumbed to cancer, life felt … incomplete. But the good Lord above kept waking her up every morning to fulfill a purpose she still didn’t know about.

Anna reached over, placing her palm atop the back of Alice’s hand; the women sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, tears rolling down their cheeks.

“Don’t forget I have the eye appointment on Monday,” Alice sobbed as they both dried their eyes.

“Me? Don’t YOU forget! They’re removing the cataracts from both eyes, right?”

Alice nodded as she ate peas. “When my eyes heal over, can we go to the beach? I’d like to sit on the sand and watch the ocean. Don loved the water so.”

Anna nodded gently, her expression soft. “That’d be nice.”

“Thank you.” Alice pushed her dinner away, reaching for dessert. “You know we have egg nog to go with the pie.”

“You didn’t eat all your dinner!” Anna chided.

“Sue me,” Alice retorted as she pulled a plate of pie towards her.

“Hold on, let me the get the nog!”

“Anna, are we lesbians?” Alice asked curiously when her friend bustled back into the dining room with a carton of egg nog and two fresh glasses.

Anna looked utterly confused. “What? NO!”

Alice poured a half-glass of the holiday dairy, mindful of her gastric issues.

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

Chicago, IL

Thanksgiving Eve slipped quietly, effortlessly into Thanksgiving Day as Evan Bacino led his guest down the darkened hallway towards the front door. He didn’t remember their name, there was no need to. His thick brown hair with red and blonde highlights bounced against the nape of his neck with every step he took.

He unlocked the only ingress/egress into his apartment and opened the door slightly; the blonde man stepped around him, his blue eyes searching Evan’s face briefly before extending his hand. The hand that not an hour before had been fisted around Evan’s cock before gripping wrinkled bedsheets in a room filled with moans and permeated with the fragrance of sex.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” the guest murmured as the two shook hands.

“Ditto,” Evan replied in a neutral tone. He didn’t want to give whoever this person was any ideas that he was interested in continuing even a conversation.

Despite his eagerness to be alone, Evan loitered in the open doorway after his visitor stepped into the hall, listening to footsteps move further and further away before closing the door and entering the living room. He turned on a standing lamp, watching as light spilt over furniture and flooring, illuminating an overflowing ashtray on the coffee table and the day’s clothing littering the carpet.

Evan ignored the mess, instead walking over to the floor-to-ceiling window that afforded him an envious view of the Chicago skyline and Lake Michigan. He pressed his palms against the glass, his eyes watching the rain fall steadily from sky to ground. The weatherman said there was a chance the rain would turn to snow overnight; Evan didn’t doubt it.

He wondered if his visitor had an umbrella.

It was Thanksgiving Day and he had absolutely no plans, other than to stay indoors, off social media, and get mildly drunk. His parents had invited him to join them in Aspen for a weekend filled with catered food and winter sports, but he had begged off. The last thing he needed right now was his mother’s vapid and vacuous gossip about people neither of them knew, and watching his father ogle every woman under the age of 60.

His friends had asked Evan to join them for a Friendsgiving brunch. There were promises of eggnog pancakes, turkey sausage, and beef short ribs but Evan’s circle of friends was also Eduardo’s circle of friends. He wasn’t ready to see or talk about Eduardo just yet.

Three months was not enough time to heal from a five-year relationship.

Evan worked a half-day Wednesday, then ran errands: Liquor store for two bottles of chocolate cherry wine; bakery for two pies; KFC for a bucket of extra crispy chicken and two large mashed potatoes and gravy: community market for a box of Stove Top, cigarettes, and a 12-pack of Heineken. After arriving home and putting away his purchases, Evan fell across his bed and into a deep sleep.

Upon awakening, he was hungry for Chinese food, and had DoorDash deliver from his favorite place, Hunan House. He then decided he wanted a real drink, and after freshening up, Evan meandered down to the neighborhood bar, The Watering Hole. That’s where he met his hookup. He hadn’t left his house planning to bring someone home, but the drinks had been potent and the lure of the unknown enticing.

The sex hadn’t been satisfactory, due mostly to Evan’s emotional turmoil. He felt guilt, shame, and as if he were cheating on Eduardo. The man who had left him three months earlier to “explore and experience.” Eduardo never said what or with who.

Evan never asked; what was the point?

Before turning away from the window, Evan studied his nude reflection in the glass: tall, toned body with some muscle definition; skin that was more tanned than pale thanks to his mother’s Greek Cypriot heritage; thick, voluminous hair that was longish, but not overly so; his facial features were attractively arranged but Evan wouldn’t call himself handsome.

He frowned; his goatee needed trimming.

Later. He needed a shower.

He faced the room, hands on hips as he surveyed the disarray. The entire apartment needed cleaning; heartbreak was not conducive to domesticity.

Later. He needed sleep.

Evan awakened shortly after 9am, and by noon the apartment was tidy: ashtrays emptied, trash taken out, laundry done and fresh sheets on the bed, bathroom cleaned, dishes washed, and rooms vacuumed.

Afterwards, he showered; at 1pm, Evan was settled on his couch with a large plate of kung pao shrimp with fried rice and a cold bottle of brew.

Outside, thick flakes of snow swirled and fell from dark gray skies, coating the city’s surfaces with a thin blanket of white; inside, heat and computer-generated flames emanated from the wall-mounted electric fireplace.

It should have been normal: food, football, and beer on Thanksgiving Day. A cozy fire on a cold, messy afternoon. But it wasn’t. Evan was plagued with feelings of incompleteness and inadequacy; he was playing a role to an audience of none, and not very well.

Fucking Eduardo. Fucking love.

Evan channel surfed as he ate, settling on college football. When the station went to commercial break at the end of the first quarter, he headed to the kitchen for a more Chinese food, a piece of chicken, and another beer; the knock on his front door stopped him.

Who the hell could that be? he wondered as he cautiously approached the door, praying it wasn’t his friends coming to cheer him up.

Pity parties are solo affairs.

His stomach plummeted when he peered through the peephole. On the other side of the door stood a tall, lithe Brazilian man wearing an uncertain expression on his clean-shaven face. His navy-blue wool coat was buttoned to his throat, a Blackwatch plaid scarf draped his neck. Droplets of precipitation glistened in his dark, dark hair.

Eduardo!

Evan’s heartbeat accelerated; blood rushed through his body, causing a whooshing in his ears and a growing erection in his gray sweatpants. Relief, anger, disbelief washed over him, causing tears to burn in his eyes. He felt as if he were moving in slow motion as he unlocked the door before pulling it fully open.

The former lovers stared at each other, facial expressions filled with indecision, hope, regret.

“Hey, Evan,” Eduardo said softly before his gaze dropped to the floor.

Evan found it hard to breathe; everything he had prayed for and cried over the past 90 days was standing right in front of him, waiting to be welcomed with open arms, embraced tightly, and forgiven.

Evan’s stare went from Eduardo’s face to the rolling suitcase at his side.

Eduardo wanted to come back home.

Like nothing ever happened.

Except it had.

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Evan slowly closed the door.

Eduardo’s frantic knocks covered the clicking of the locks.

Compton, CA

Thanksgiving Day in Compton is warm and sunny. Outside, the faint laughter and yells of children racing bicycles down cracked sidewalks and playing football in the streets drift through the closed windows of my kitchen; more than likely, they had been chased out of hot kitchens and crowded houses to let the grown-ups do what grown-ups do: cook, drink, cuss. The iconic palm trees lining my street sway under the touch of a light, balmy breeze.

It's 3pm, and my house is crowded with people despite the fact that dinner is at 5. My family arrived at 11am, carrying bags of ice and carryout food. That’s it. They set up camp in the family room, turned on the television, and proceeded to eat greasy wings, fried rice, and ketchup-drenched fries while taking advantage of my full cable package.

My husband’s family arrived at 2pm with egg nog, ice cream, pies, and my mother-in-law's tiresome rant about Compton being the biggest failure of the state’s housing authority. That led, as always, to an argument with my younger brother, Man-Man. She, her daughter Susan, and my brother-in-law Neil mingled for a few minutes before taking up residence in the living room, watching Food Network and day drinking.

Meanwhile, I’m struggling to remove a 22-pound turkey from an extremely hot oven, trying not to scream out loud from the lower back pain caused by the overdue baby in my belly, and dealing with my three-year-old son Noah tugging on my pant leg asking me to pwease help him.

I give up on the turkey and set it back on the rack before turning to my son. “What is it, sweetheart?” I ask in a voice filled with forced patience.; it isn’t his fault that there are seven useless, non-functioning adults in this house.

I roll my eyes when he says he wants my phone to play a game. Scary Teacher 3.

Dear God, give me strength.

“Honey, let me find my phone. Go get your Uncle Monty for me while I do that.”

He nods, his dark curls bobbing as he scampers out of the kitchen to find my brother Lamont. Meanwhile, my eyes dart around the room quickly, a growing panic inside me. With the massive quantities of food that I had cooked, and still needed to cook, my phone had been the last thing on my mind. Earlier, I set it down … somewhere. But where?

I wonder if I stuffed it in the cavity of the turkey.

I’m distracted from my search by my sister loudly arguing with Neil about someone named Kyle being a fraud and that something called fire dragon crab rangoon casserole was nothing more than imitation crab meat, Philly cream cheese, and hot sauce. I’m so busy trying to make their conversation make sense, I neither see nor hear my brother join me.

“What you need, Sandra?” Lamont asks in a bored tone.

I jump slightly but recover quickly. “I need to find my phone, the turkey needs to come out, the ham needs to go in,” I say as I sit in one of the kitchen chairs. “And I’m thirsty,” I add as I mop the perspiration from my brow.

He shakes his head as he busies himself: the refrigerator door opens and closes before a cool bottle of water appears before me, the cap loosened; he grunts as he hefts the roasting pan from the oven, the metal clatters against the stovetop; he lifts the lid on the pot of collards, giving the greens a stir before cutting the flame down low. My phone slides across the crowded table, just in time for Noah to see it as he enters the room.

His little hands reach and grab, but I hold it out of his reach, trying to see if I’ve missed any calls or texts. “Baste the ham before putting it in, please,” I mumble as I guzzle more water.

“Lawd, woman! You tryna work me to the bone,” Lamont complains.

I pay him no attention; he didn’t have to buy the groceries; he doesn’t have to cook the food. We’re using paper products, plastic utensils, and solo cups; minimal clean-up. All the others have to do is eat, take out the trash, and help put up the Christmas tree.

Easy peasy.

“MOMMY!” Noah wails impatiently.

“What, little boy?” I huff playfully before surrendering my phone. “Hey, babe … you hungry?” I ask, trying to recall the last time I fed my child.

He shakes his head, eyes glued to the screen. “No. Gamma gave me chicken and fwies.”

Lamont shuts the oven door. “Anything else?”

I think over what’s left to do: macaroni and cheese, which is already prepped. It just needs a thorough heating. Stuffing: it’s boxed. so that makes life easy. Biscuits: thank you, Pillsbury Doughboy. Mushrooms: already prepped, just needs heating.

I shake my head. “Nope. Thanks.”

The plan now is for Noah and me to head upstairs for an hour nap … we’ve both been up since 6am …but I neglected to look at the time. The whoops from my family members, coupled with the off-key singing of Bad Boys, the theme from Cops, tell me my husband is home from work. His deep, deep voice literally booms throughout the rooms as he greets his family and in-laws.

My son practically throws my phone at me before he rushes into his father’s arms. Once securely hoisted onto his daddy’s hip, Noah smirks smugly at his cousins who are pulling excitedly on their uncle’s pant legs.

Through the mayhem, my eyes meet my husband’s, and he winks at me with a wide grin on his face. The man I married is tall … very tall. His shoulders and chest are broad and sculpted. There are dimples in his cheeks. He is an officer with the LAPD.

He is unfortunately named: Scott Peterson. He tells strangers that his name is Harry.

And he’s white.

It hasn’t been easy being an interracial couple in Compton. I was born and raised here but marrying a white cop has called my blackness into question with my family, my friends, my very community. I think it has more to do with him being a cop than his race.

Scott grew up in Los Angeles proper; his childhood was more affluent than privileged until his father went to prison for insider trading. His mother, as WASPy and Karenesque as her personality suggests, gave up bridge clubs and martini lunches to re-enter the workforce. I wouldn’t call her racist; I see her as more of a bigot. An elitist bigot.

When we bought our home six years ago, his mother told Scott she was extremely disappointed in him.

He responded he was through trying to impress dead folks and racists.

With wide eyes and a horrified expression, she clarified she was referring to him living in Compton. Who lived in Compton?

Pulling me closer to him, he asked her who could afford LA nowadays? Hell, she didn’t even live there any longer. And judging by Compton’s growing and diverse population, a lot of people did indeed live in Compton.

But we’ve survived and are more in love than ever. Scott and I are a working-class couple; I’m a teacher at the local preparatory school. We’re happy, and family gatherings have become louder and more boisterous in the best way possible.

After promising to play with the children after dinner and advising Man-Man what to do about his upcoming case in traffic court, one of the suggestions being do NOT wear orange as it may give the judge ideas, Scott is finally making his way to me. He pulls me to him, planting an eager and lingering kiss on my lips; when we part, we walk into the kitchen together so I can show off what I’ve accomplished.

He admires the spread and insists that he’ll take over so I can get some rest before dinner.

“No!” I yell quietly. “Your mom is here; MY mom is here. Our sisters are here. Our BROTHERS are here! You’ve worked all day!”

He’s rummaging in the utensil drawer; it’s a hot mess that I keep meaning to organize. He closes it when he finds a fork, which he dips into the pot of collards. “We’re the hosts,” he explains as he tastes the greens; he noisily smacks his lips to express his satisfaction.

“We’re always the hosts!” I retort. “And they are not guests!”

He pulls me into the closest embrace he can manage with my belly extending from here to the I-10. “You’re tired. You’ve done a lot of work today. You know my mom can’t fix anything other than salad kits and Stouffer’s. Your mom loves her fatback a little too much for me.”

I giggle. “Remember the Thanksgiving she shoved a slab of it inside the turkey?”

“That’s when you said we would be the hosts of Thanksgiving!”

“Fine,” I grumble, pretending to still be disgruntled.

“Come on, let’s get you to the bedroom.”

We don’t make it.

There’s a sharp pain in my lower back that spreads around to my belly, and my water breaks.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @cmestrella @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising0308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @bbrandy2002 @queenmiarys

In case you’re interested: @athena-anna-rose

#dcbbw writes #original fiction #THANKSGIVING FIC #writeblr #writers of tumblr

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theoddcatlady · 5 months

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The Age of Enlightenment

My dad wasn’t great at being a dad.

I’m not saying he was Satan incarnate, he just had a bad temper is all. There was five of us kids, and after mom passed he was stuck raising us on his own, so he had to run a tight ship. Otherwise we would be nothing but lazy troublemakers.

I was the second oldest, my sister Naomi was the oldest, and then there was Abby, Caroline, and Lil’ Liam. The moment Naomi was in highschool she was in charge of keeping house and making sure we were all good by the time dad got home.

She was super bossy about it, but she just didn’t want to see Dad mad. And he was pretty scary when he was mad- threw things against the walls, screamed how we were all selfish brats who didn’t respect him, sometimes we got whacked but it was mostly just the yelling. Naomi was pretty grateful when I entered highschool- meant she wasn’t the only one who had to be bossy.

We did our best, you know- we cleaned the house, we did the laundry, everyone did their homework and by the time dad walked through the door dinner better be done or close to done and the table set.

Like I said, we did our best. We didn’t always succeed, cuz the kids got cranky or didn’t want to clean or would hide their homework from us. Couldn’t hide homework from dad though. He could just about smell it.

It was Thanksgiving vacation when they showed up on our door.

We did good that day, Dad didn’t even look mad when we sat down for dinner. And then the doorbell rang.

You could see the vein pop out of his forehead from across the table. I nearly sunk into the floor, we’d done so well that day and someone had to interrupt dad’s dinner. Not much made him more ticked than that.

Initially he ignored it, grumbling something about salesmen, but we were all on edge. Caroline was pushing her peas around her plate instead of eating them and Liam was sucking on his thumb, at four he was too old for that but it was a nervous habit we’d yet to break out of him. I silently prayed for the people at the door to get the hint and leave.

Another ding-dong later and I knew we weren’t that lucky.

Dad shoved his plate away and stomped to the door while cussing up a storm. Naomi groaned and buried her face in her palms. All our hard work was now ruined by some jerks interrupting dinner.

Since we were already screwed, I figured it couldn’t get any worse by sneaking after Dad and peering out of the wall to see who was at the door.

My dad pulled the door open and barked an angry ‘WHAT?!’ at the people outside.

They weren’t neighbors, obviously, most knew better than to come over to our house but I also could tell they weren’t salesmen. It was a pair, a man and a woman. The woman had curly brown hair and a wide smile, the man was prematurely balding and was more somber. The woman offered her hand to my dad, completely missing the fact he looked ready to blow his top. “Hi, I’m Ann, this is my husband Kennen. We’re here from the church down the ways. May we come in?”

I swore Dad’s face went redder than a tomato, before he proceeded to literally laugh in their faces. “Get the hell off my porch, I’m not buying any of your damn books or going to any damn meetings.” He proceeded to slam the door in their faces… or would’ve, had Kennan not stuck his foot in the door.

The door bounced back open and Kennan managed to mostly disguise his grimace with a cough. Ann was still smiling, offering forward a pamphlet. “I understand you’re likely a busy man, sir, but no one doesn’t have time for the truth. What time will you be available for a chat?”

My dad snatched the pamphlet, crumpled it up and threw it in the garbage right next to the door. “Never. I work a full time job and have five brats to parent on my own,” He snarled.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, but if you’re looking for support, the church offers daycare and there’s counseling services for those who need a little help from their day to day-”

My dad slammed the door again, this time Kennan didn’t attempt to stop it. I skittered back to the dining room to avoid being caught away from the dinner table, but it didn’t matter. Dad stormed back in, screamed at Caroline for playing with her food, and told us all to get to our rooms, right now. I’d not had more than a bite of meat loaf but it didn’t matter- no one deserved dinner right now.

The thing is with a strict parent, you learn how to get around them. Even if the price was a heavy one to pay, I knew how to sneak around my dad to snitch something to eat. I couldn’t sleep with my stomach growling like it was.

After gorging myself on cold, greasy meatloaf that was still on the table, I headed back to my room only to pause at the trash can.

I almost went back up to my room, knowing if my dad happened to realize I snitched the pamphlet from the trash I’d be in for a beating and a grounding. But my curiosity outweighed my fear and I carefully lifted the crumpled up paper from the trash before hurrying to my room, careful not to step on any squeaky floorboards. I’d learned where each one was over my years of sneaking around.

Before you make an assumption, this wasn’t from the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Or really any other church I’d ever heard about before.

These people were from The Enlightened. The pamphlet was nothing special, white paper with black print and a cartoony picture of a lamp on the front, probably some sort of clip art or whatever. But the words inside… they did something for me. I still have the first sentences memorized… ‘The age of enlightenment is upon us. The reason behind everything exists with us.’

I poured over the few pages for days, hiding the pamphlet in my pillow so I could read it every night before bed. They said everything I wanted to hear- how we’re all here to help each other out, how life should be about loving and respecting others… it was truly enlightening.

I wished so hard that Ann and Kennen would come back, I had so many questions I wanted to ask them. I was still a bit skeptical, back then, but just after we got home from school there was that knock at the door. I answered and there they were. Kennen now had a crutch, apparently Dad broke his foot, but there was no hard feelings.

“I read the pamphlet,” I blurted out before they could say a thing. Ann blinked a few times before she grinned ear to ear.

“I hoped someone would,” She said, taking my hand in hers and squeezing tightly, “Can we come in? Just for a few minutes.”

I invited them in, poured them lemonade, and we talked. They explained everything.

The Enlightened revered something called Beings. They weren’t to be worshiped, only respected and asked of for guidance. The Beings were here when we first arrived, after we swum through the stars as fish. Hell was in fact located in the sun, or well, a portal to hell was. We were lucky to have made it and were not distracted by the warmth.

The being that Kennen and Ann revered the most was called Riesis, and Riesis asked them to come to my house. They knew someone would be interested in hearing them speak. And although yeah, back then the Being stuff seemed silly, Kennan and Ann were nice. We all liked them, even Naomi, who was even more unimpressed by the Beings than I was. Liam was practically curled up in Ann’s lap by the time Dad came home.

Not a single chore was done, homework hadn’t been touched, and Naomi had completely forgot about starting dinner when the door banged open. That meant Dad’s day at work was lousy so we better have done everything that needed to be done. Which. We hadn’t.

When he saw Ann and Kennen in our living room, his face went from white to red to purple so quickly I thought he had a stroke.

“What the hell are they doing in our house?” His rage immediately turned on Naomi, who began to shake.

I couldn’t let her take the blame, not this time, so I stood up and told the truth. “I invited them in, Dad, they’re nice-”

I couldn’t tell him all I knew now, how I had become enlightened. Before I could, he backhanded me so hard I think a tooth almost went loose.

“Are you stupid?!” Spittle flew from his enraged lips as he pointed at the couple. “These nutjobs aren’t even from a real church!”

For the first time, I saw Ann look mildly peeved. Her lips pressed together in a firm line as she stood. “At first I thought you were just jaded, but now I see you’re just as close minded as most of the world. The enlightenment is coming, sir, whether you want it or not.”

“Go back to your fish stories, you crazy bitch,” My dad sneered, “And get out of my house before I call the cops and tell ‘em you and your husband were doing some freaky shit with my children.”

My face went red at the implication and Ann sputtered angrily before taking a deep breath and the smile returning to her face, a smile that didn’t come close to seeming happy. “Fine. Good day, sir,” She walked to the door, her husband limping right behind him.

After they were out of the house I got the worst beating of my life. My dad made me give him back the pamphlet and he shredded it into itty bitty pieces. I’d never be able to read it again. I couldn’t even lay on my back in bed that night because of how sore I was. My siblings were threatened with worse if anyone brought up The Enlightened ever again.

I fell asleep crying because I’d never be able to feel that happiness I felt with Ann again.

In the middle of the night I woke up to someone collapsing against my door. It scared the hell out of me, I nearly fell out of bed.

I heard a gurgle and against my better judgment, I walked up to the door and opened it.

There was my dad, slumped up on the ground, his front all soaked with blood pouring from a jagged wound in his throat. Naomi was standing right behind him, holding a steak knife so tightly in her red stained hand it was shaking.

I stared blankly at my dying father, who reached up to me in a silent gesture for help. I looked at my sister. A few specks of blood were drying on her bone white cheeks. I held out my hand. “Sis, give me the knife,” I said.

I didn’t need to ask twice, she gave it up so easily. I looked at my dad, who looked so damn relieved… until I raised the knife and jabbed it right into his chest so hard the blade snapped off the handle.

My dad managed a final gasp before he slumped down dead. I looked up at Naomi, who sniffled and wiped the tears off her cheeks. “He… he came to me in my dream. Riesis. He told me… that this is what I needed to do so we could all join the Enlightened.” For the first time I can remember, she smiled. My big sister was always so serious, so grumpy and bossy. Now she finally looked free.

“Go call the cops and get cleaned up. Don’t worry, I’ll wipe off the knife so your prints aren’t on it. Go.”

My sister took all the blame. Said she was done with my dad’s bullshit and finally snapped. I think it helped that everyone in the community knew that my dad was a dick and she was only sixteen. She’ll be out of prison in about seven more years, we’re planning on throwing a big party when she’s out.

Helped that Kennan was a great lawyer too. Turns out despite rarely saying a word out of the courtroom once he was in it he was a master of words. He represented Naomi pro bono, not a dime was spent on his defense and we owe him forever for it. And to add to this happily ever after, we got adopted by Kennan and Ann.

Riesis told them they were meant to be our parents, it turns out. Ann couldn’t have kids, but he came to their dreams and told them to go to my house, and return when our dad wasn’t home. Originally the plan was to convince us to come along before he got home, but this way still worked. Ann’s a near perfect mom.

I’m now eighteen myself. Much better off than I would’ve been if my dad was still alive. Tonight I’ll devote myself to service of Riesis.

In return he will teach me how to whisper into people’s ears as they sleep, to tell people what he bids. I’ll be his voice now, along with Kennan and Ann.

#my stories

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puppyexpressions · 9 months

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7 Surprising Autumn Dangers for Dogs

The dog days of summer will soon be behind us and cooler weather will soon be moving in. The leaves are starting to change, sweaters are being pulled out of storage, and our dogs are more eager than ever to get outside and play!

1. Shorter Days and Longer Nights!

In the shorter days and longer nights of autumn, it’s not uncommon for many dogs to get their daily walks after the sun’s already set. Though relaxing, nighttime walks introduce a whole set of dangers not present in the daylight. With reduced visibility, it’s more important than ever to be diligent in monitoring your dog closely to be sure he hasn’t found a potentially dangerous “roadside snack” to nibble on. Stay safe at night by carrying a flashlight along during walks.

It’s also important that your dog be visible to other people, animals, and oncoming cars when outside after dark. Consider using a reflective collar, an LED collar light, or a safety vest whenever you’re outdoors at night.

2. There’s a Fungus Among Us!

This time of year, fallen leaves piled beneath trees or raked into cool, damp piles create the perfect environment for wild mushrooms to grow. While not all species of the fungi are toxic, it’s very difficult to identify and distinguish those that are. As a rule of thumb, keep your dogs away from any and all wildly growing mushrooms.

3. Fleas Reach Their Peak in the Fall!

Many pet parents mistakenly believe that fleas begin to die off as cooler weather approaches. Truth is, fall is actually the peak season for fleas! Only sustained cold (temperatures consistently reaching in the 30’s or lower) will kill off fleas. Because dog owners tend to back off or reduce their flea prevention this time of year while at the same time spending more time outdoors, flea infestations (and the itchy skin and allergies they bring with them) are more common in the fall than in the spring or summer.

Don’t forget to continue using a flea preventative throughout the fall season to keep these bloodsucking pests at bay.

4. Sweater Weather Means Mothballs!

Because even a single mothball can be deadly, pet parents may want to consider alternatives to keep moths away, cedar balls, chips, or blocks can be used in place of mothballs in drawers, or a simple sachet of lavender not only smells lovely, but repels the fiber-snacking pests naturally.

5. Keep Away From Antifreeze!

It only takes a few innocent licks of that sweet smelling goo on the neighbor’s driveway to kill a small to medium sized dog. Be very, very careful when walking your dog to be certain he stays well out of reach of antifreeze. And, prevent him from drinking from puddles or streams where antifreeze may have runoff.

6. A Cornucopia of Dangerous Fall Foods!

Steer clear of grapes and raisins which contain an unknown toxin that can lead to kidney failure. Avoid high-fat foods, like turkey skin and dark meat, ham, and gravy, which can lead to a painful and lifelong condition known as pancreatitis.

The day after Thanksgiving is the busiest day of the year for veterinarians diagnosing pancreatitis in dogs. Though some nuts are safe, it’s best to avoid them all in favor of foods more species appropriate for your dog. Though it can be hard to resist those puppy dog eyes begging for a bite of your holiday meal, do your dog a favor and offer them a special dog-safe treat instead.

7. Ragweed, Pollen, and Mold – Oh My!

Regular baths with a gentle dog shampoo can both rinse away allergens and soothe itchy skin. Keeping paws clean, either by wiping them every time your dog comes inside or with a paw washing station at the backdoor, can prevent allergens from being tracked around the house and onto bedding.

Now that you know what to watch for and are prepared for these surprising autumn dangers, you’re ready to enjoy the beautiful weather with your dog by your side!

#fall dog health #fall #dog health

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marvelmadam08 · 2 years

Text

Baby Blues 20/?

Summary: It’s Ace’s first Thanksgiving, and Alex and Chris have everything under control.... right?

Warning: Swearing (that’s it)

~~~~~~~

15 Weeks (and 2 Days) Old

"Okay Alexander, this is a big day for us. Mama is hoping to get some good news today." Alex swayed from foot to foot while she fed Ace and refreshed her email and kept checking her phone for any missed texts.

She had sent in some drafts to her editor, Sarah, who she was hoping to hear back from today. If all went well then she'd get an advance on her next book, and then discuss scheduling for a future book tour.

Chris had wrapped with filming a few days ago and Alex loved catching up on her sleep because of it. She and Chris had a new morning routine, she got up with Ace to feed him, then Chris would have him after his first nap and for a bit of playtime while Alex got to go back to sleep.

“Al, we have to be at my mom’s in an hour.” he reminded her, seeing her still dressed in her sweats

“I know, I’m just waiting to hear back from Sarah.”

“It’s Thanksgiving, she’s probably eating. Which we won’t get to do if we’re late for dinner.” he swatted her on the butt “Go, get dressed.”

“Did you just spank me?”

"And I'm gonna do it again if you don't go get dressed."

“I still have to get all the bags together.”

“I’ll get our stuff, you go get dressed.” Chris steered her out of the office “I got this.”

“Don’t forget the carrier or my breast pump.” Alex checked under the sling, Ace was going in and out of sleep while still trying to breastfeed “That’s right, get milk drunk and sleep all the way to grandma’s house.”

Alex hurried to get ready once Ace had given into his impending nap, throwing on some jeans, a clean blouse, and some light makeup. Since it’s Ace’s first Thanksgiving, Alex knows pictures would be taken, and she’d rather look less tired than she actually was.

“Al, I’m wasting away.” Chris whined, he was halfway out the door with the carrier in one hand and his keys in the other.

Alex slung her purse under her arm, well purse/ Ace’s secondary baby bag. Anything that didn’t fit inside the baby bag was in Alex’s oversized purse. “I’m gonna forget something if you keep rushing me.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Where are the bags?”

“I put them in the car.”

“Did you remember my breast pump?” Alex started to drift towards the kitchen when Chris pulled her back and gently towards the door.

“Yes I did, it’s in the car.”

“Where’s Dodger?”

“Peeing on a tree in the front yard.”

“What about-”

“Al, everything is in the car except you.” Chris punched in the code to the house alarm and shuffled Alex out the door

Dodger came happily strolling up to Alex, while Chris placed the carrier in the car.

“In you go Bubs.” Alex encouraged the pup to hop in the back seat, smiling as he curled up next to the carrier. “Good boy, Dodger.”

“Everybody in?” Chris waited until Alex was buckled in before pulling out of the drive. Alex was back on her phone, checking her emails again, but still nothing. Chris reached over and poked at her thigh “Stop checking, your gonna overthink. You’re a talented writer and when Sarah does respond- it’ll be good news.”

“I’m gonna overthink either way. This one is different from my other books, it’s more personal.”

“Personal how? What’s the book about? You usually let me read your drafts before you send them in.”

Alex hesitated “Some of the situations in the book are- kind of based off a few of my real-life experiences, but I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it.”

“Fine, I won’t ask about your secret book anymore, as long as you put your phone down. It’s Thanksgiving, our son’s first, be in the moment.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m here, in the moment and at this current moment I’m nervous and hungry.” Dodger whined softly, sniffing around the car. “What’s up, Dodger?”

“I think he wants the window down, but Ace is back there.” Chris glances at the pup in the rearview mirror. Dodger howled and pawed at the seats, trying to push his way to the front seat before giving up and whining again. “Hey- Dodge, stop that, you know better.” Chris chides

“What’s the matter Dodge, you gotta potty again?” Alex turned to pet and soothe him when she saw that the carrier was empty "Chris, where's Ace?"

"What do you mean 'where's Ace', you didn’t put him in the car?"

"No, I didn’t put him in the car, didn’t you have him with you in the carrier?"

"You were feeding him, I thought you had him." Chris glanced in the rearview mirror to find Dodger whining at the empty car seat "Shit-"

After a possible illegal U-turn and a lot of angry drivers, Chris was speeding back towards the house, Alex gripped the handle on her door.

"I can't believe we left him in the house. We're horrible parents. First the squirrel and now this, he's probably so scared right now.”

"We're not bad parents, just stay calm. It's fine, Ace is fine- move your car asshole the light is green!" Chris honked and served around the driver who was too busy texting to notice “Get off your fucking phone, you fucking idiot!”

“How did we forget our baby? Dodger noticed it before we did, we could’ve been damn near halfway to your mom’s before we even realized!”

The car jerked to a sudden stop in the drive, and both Chris and Alex launched themselves out of the car and ran back in the house.

“Alexander.” Chris ran to the bedroom, Alex right behind him. Ace was still fast asleep on the bed, safe and sound. “He’s fine, he’s fine.”

“Thank goodness.” Alex sighed then smiled “And he’s still sleeping.”

The security alarm went off throughout the house, Ace was startled awake and wailed.

>>>>>

“One more, one more.” Lisa smiled snapping another picture of Alex holding Ace, wearing a bib with a colorful turkey on it and words reading ‘gobble gobble’

“Ma, please give my wife a break.” Chris asked on Alex’s behalf

Lisa nods “You’re right. It’s your turn anyways.”

Chris chuckled but switched places with Alex, pulling Ace into his arms. Lisa began taking more pictures. Alex feels her phone buzzing in her pocket, she pulls it out and sees Sarah’s name on the screen. She slips away into the kitchen.

“Hey Sarah, please tell me you have good news.”

“I wouldn’t interrupt your Thanksgiving if I didn’t. Jamie, put the pie down!” Sarah sighed “I sent in your drafts, and they loved them. They love how personal and real it felt, and greenlit the book.”

Alex’s smile is the first thing Chris notices when he comes into the kitchen.

“They love my drafts and they want more.” she cheered

“That’s my girl” Chris scooped her up in a tight bear hug “I’m so proud of you Al.”

“Thanks babe.”

“You’re welcome.” Sarah laughed

“Oh sorry, Sarah. Thanks for letting me know.”

“No problem, now please enjoy the rest of your Thanksgiv- Jamie I said no more pie! I gotta go, we’ll talk more about the deal tomorrow.”

“Okay, no problem. Happy Thanksgiving.” Alex danced once she hung up the phone

“Happy now?”

“Ecstatic! Where’s Ace?”

“My mom has him, and she’s not letting him go anytime soon.” Chris paused “What are we gonna do about Ace?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you start working again, and I’m off filming and doing interviews for ASP, who’s with Ace?”

“I’ll have him with me.”

Chris shook his head “Al, while I don’t doubt your multitasking skill, you’re gonna burn yourself out trying to juggle everything alone. We’re gonna need some help.”

Alex did her best not to pout. “We don’t need a nanny, we can handle this. He’s asleep most of the day and I can use that time to write. And when he’s awake he gets my attention.”

“Al- Ace’s sleep schedule is all over the place right now and what happens when we both have work meetings and interviews? We still have Dodge to look after too. Just look at what happened today, you have to admit an extra set of hands would help us out.” Chris cradles her face gently

“Don’t say it.”

“It might be time for us to get a nanny.”

#Chris Evans #the gray man #dad!chris #chris evans x black ofc #marvel #babyblues #disney d23

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pureimaginefic · 6 months

Text

Thanksgiving 2010

The end of fall was near, the holiday season was upon everyone as Thanksgiving quickly approached. While scattered in different parts of the world, the boys could only think of one thing, being home for the holidays.

"Here we are" Bradley said as he and Sydney stepped up onto the front porch “Home sweet home" Bradley said.

"Wow, you actually grew up here?” she asked.

“From five to eighteen” Bradley said “Welcome to Backstreet Manor” he said opening the door.

Sydney gasped “Oh my god” she said "This place is amazing” she said looking around in awe.

“Yeah it’s alright” Bradley said to her.

“This is so cool, I’m actually in the house of a celebrity right now, I can’t believe it” she said.

"You're using that term too way loosely" Bradley said to her “Hello!?” Bradley called out “Neilson! Nat!” he yelled.

“Yo” Neilson said coming into the living room with a bottle in his hand “Welcome home” he said to Bradley.

“This place is incredible” Sydney said “I can’t believe you guys actually got to grow up here” she said to Neilson.

“Yeah it was alright” Neilson said taking a drink.

“Hey!” Natalie said coming in from the kitchen “You guys are finally here" Natalie said.

"Hey" Sydney said hugging her.

"Place looks great, good job on the clean up” Bradley said to her.

“Thank you” Neilson said.

“No no, thank me” Natalie said irritated.

“You didn’t do anything?” Sydney asked Neilson.

“That’s not true, I did stuff” Neilson said as they all looked at him “Kinda” he said.

“Well Bradley your old room is all set up for you guys” Natalie said to him.

“Alright, I’ll get our stuff from the car” Bradley said.

“I’ll help you” Neilson said following him.

“Oh sure, you help him” Natalie said irritated as Neilson followed Bradley outside.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious” Sydney said.

“Oh well thanks but I’m actually just keeping things warm, it may not be home cooked but at least it’ll be edible” Natalie said to her.

“You didn’t cook?” Sydney asked.

“Oh god no, and the last time these guys tried to make a Thanksgiving meal it was a complete disaster” Natalie said.

“That’s actually true” Bradley said coming inside with a bag over his shoulder “That’s how I got this scar holding up his palm “Neilson” he said bitterly.

“Let’s just take this stuff upstairs” Neilson said glaring at him.

“Come on I’ll give you the five cent tour” Bradley said to Sydney as they went upstairs.

~*~

“This is it” Bradley said taking their bags into his old bedroom.

“Wow…so this is where the magic happened huh?” she asked looking around.

“What magic?” Bradley asked setting their bags on his bed.

“It’s very much you” she said.

“Expecting something different?” he asked.

“Oh no, this is exactly how I pictured it, the only thing different is that it’s actually clean” she said.

“Well yeah I haven’t been here in months” he said cracking a smile “You okay? You seem nervous.”

“No, I’m great” she said “Well…maybe a little” she said.

“Hey, come on, there’s nothing to be worried about.”

“No, I know…I was expecting to meet your parents today but meeting the rest of you guys is still pretty intimidating” she said.

“Intimidating? Okay Harry? Not intimidating in the slightest…in fact you might end up intimidating him.”

“Isn’t he dating a supermodel or something?” she asked.

“Yeah in his mind” Bradley said “Kyle? The only thing intimidating about him are his eyebrows” he said, she smiled “And Adam…well…we may need to splash some holy water on you” he said.

“Oh come on he’s not really that bad is he?” she asked.

“I guess not…except for that one time we were leaving a wedding and the priest asked to do an exorcism on him” he said.

Her face fell in horror “Oh my god” she said.

“Yeah” he said "It's pretty bad" he said to her.

“Yo! Anyone home?!” Kyle called out from downstairs.

“Ready?” he asked holding his hand out.

“Now or never” she said taking it, they then left the room.

~*~

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Zoey asked as she followed Kyle inside.

“Yes, come on, it’ll be fine” he said “Adam’s not even here yet, we’ll be alright, I promise” he said.

“Okay” she said.

“Kyle!” Natalie said happily.

“Hey Nat” he said hugging her tightly, picking her up off her feet “I’ve missed you” he said.

“I’ve missed you too! How’s New York?” she asked.

“It’s awesome, you should come visit sometime” Kyle said to her.

“I would love that” she said “Oh my god, Zoey!” Natalie said.

“Hey Nat” Zoey said coming out from behind Kyle.

“What are you doing here? Adam’s not even here yet” Natalie said.

“Oh uh…I didn’t come to see Adam” Zoey said looking at Kyle.

“Yeah, she’s actually with me” Kyle said holding her hand.

“Oh…oh…ohhhhhh” Natalie said “Oh boy” she said to herself.

“Nat, it’s okay” Kyle said.

“Oh yeah? Does Adam think It’s okay?” she asked.

“He doesn’t know” he said to her.

“And you plan on telling him today?” Natalie asked.

“Yes” Kyle said.

“I better go hide all the sharp objects” she said leaving the room.

“Kyle” Bradley said coming down the stairs, Sydney trailing behind him.

“Hey!” Kyle said as they hugged.

“Kyle, this is Sydney, Syd, Kyle Richardson” Bradley said introducing them.

“Hi” Sydney said to Kyle.

“Hi, nice to meet you” Kyle said shaking her hand.

“You too” Sydney said smiling.

“Zoe, hey” Bradley said seeing her standing behind Kyle.

“Hi Bradley” she said as they hugged.

“Syd, this is Zoey, she’s Adam’s cousin” Bradley said to her.

“Oh hi” Sydney said.

“Hi, nice to meet you” Zoey said.

“You too” Sydney said.

“You here for Adam?” Bradley asked.

“Uh no…she’s here with me” Kyle said.

“With you?” Bradley asked.

“Yeah we’re uh…together” Kyle said.

“Yeah I can see that…oh…together together?” Bradley asked.

“Yes” Kyle said to him.

“Uh Kyle, I’m going to get a drink…maybe help Nat hide some of the knives” Zoey said to him.

“I’ll go with you…I need someone to explain what’s happening here” Sydney said as they went into the kitchen.

“Are you insane?!” Bradley asked Kyle.

“What?!” Kyle asked him.

“You can’t date Zoey! You know Adam’s got some psycho overprotective thing with her!” Bradley said “Have you at least talked to him about this?” Bradley asked.

“…I will” Kyle said.

“Adam doesn’t know does he?” Bradley asked.

“…Not yet” Kyle said nervously “It’s not like he can drop by, he’s in the UK!” Kyle said.

“Kyle!” Neilson said entering the room.

“Hey” Kyle said to him as they hugged.

“What’s up?” Neilson asked.

“Same old, same old” Kyle said.

“Here you are” Zoey said handing Kyle a drink “Hey Neilson” she said.

“Hey Zoe” Neilson said as they hugged “What are you doing here? Adam’s flight doesn’t get in for another couple hours” he said.

“Oh I’m not here to see Adam” she said.

“Yeah she’s here with Kyle” Bradley said.

Neilson looked at him confused “oh…oh…dude” Neilson said fearfully “Are you insane?!” he asked.

“It’s not a big deal” Kyle said, Bradley scoffed.

“Yeah maybe not to you…does Adam even know?” Neilson asked.

“Nope” Bradley said taking a swig of his drink.

“I’m going to tell him” Kyle said to Neilson.

“When?” Neilson asked “Not today…” Neilson said “Today?!” he asked.

“No time like the present right?” Kyle asked.

“Oh I do not want to miss this” Bradley said.

“Hey!” Harry said happily as the front door opened.

“Hey!” Kyle said upon seeing him “Welcome home!” he said as they hugged.

“Oh it feels so good to be back” he said “You two goobers, I’ve missed you!” Harry said hugging both Bradley and Neilson.

“Can’t believe I’m going to say it but we missed you too” Bradley said.

“Really?” Harry said.

“Yeah we’ve got these term papers due and we wanted you to write them for us” Neilson said.

“Harry!” Natalie said excitedly as she came in from the kitchen.

“Hey Nat!” he said as they hugged tightly.

“Oh I’ve missed you so much!” she said.

“I’ve missed you too” he said “You must be Sydney” Harry said noticing Sydney standing next to Natalie.

“Yeah hi, you must be Harry, nice to meet you” she said.

“You too” Harry said as they shook hands.

“I’ve heard a lot about you” she said.

“Really?” he asked surprised "Anything good?" he asked.

"Well...it's been nice meeting you in person" she said.

“Hey Harry” Zoey said approaching him.

“Zoey? Hey I didn’t know you were coming, you here to surprise Adam?” he asked.

“So Harry…where’s this uh…supermodel girlfriend of yours?” Kyle asked.

“If she even exists” Bradley said.

“Oh she exists, she’s outside finishing up a phone call” Harry said.

“Oh yeah with who Santa Claus?” Bradley asked, the doorbell then rang, Kyle stepped up to answer it.

“Hi, sorry about that, just had to take that call” Greta said smiling at Kyle who looked at her dumbfounded “You must be Kyle” she said.

“…I am?” he asked.

“Hey, come on in” Harry said taking her hand and bringing her inside.

“Oh my god” Natalie said upon seeing her “You’re Greta Leoni.”

“I am and you’re Natalie right?” Greta asked.

“Right, hi” Natalie said starstruck.

“Nice to meet you” Greta said smiling.

“You too, this is so cool" Natalie said.

"You know who she is?" Neilson asked her.

"Are you kidding? Greta has been in every issue of Teen Vogue for the last two years" Natalie said to him "How did you two meet?” she asked Harry.

“We met on a photoshoot” Harry said “I got this photographer’s apprentice job working for Matthew Abbott” he said taking Greta’s coat off.

“Yeah Harry was just so sweet and adorable, we hit it off” she said.

“She came looking for me on campus and we spent the day together” he said.

“I think we’ve just entered some bizarro universe” Neilson said to Bradley.

“So I see you’ve met Kyle” Harry said to Greta.

“She can meet me again” Kyle said.

“This is Bradley J. and this is Neilson” he said.

“So glad to meet you guys, I’ve heard all about you” she said.

“And uh, I guess Adam’s not here yet” Harry said.

“Nope, no blood weeping down the walls yet” Bradley said.

“Greta, can I get you a drink?” Natalie asked.

“oh yeah that’d be great” she said.

“Come on, I’ll show you around” she said as Greta followed them into the kitchen.

“Okay I’m just gonna ask…how the hell did you get her?” Bradley asked.

“I don’t know but I love it” Harry said happily.

“So does Adam know that Zoey was going to be here?” Harry asked, Bradley and Neilson both looked at Kyle “What?” Harry asked.

“Oh fine…she’s here with me, alright?” Kyle said irritated.

“With you? Why would she be with you…no!” Harry said.

“This is going to be fun night” Neilson said to Bradley.

“It really is, we should make popcorn” Bradley said.

“You’re dating Zoey? You know you can’t date her!” Harry said to Kyle.

“Oh why? Because Adam said so? When did we all get so afraid of Adam? I’m the oldest, I’m supposed to be the scary one!” Kyle said to them.

“Your eyebrows are scary” Bradley said shrugging, Neilson snickered.

“I’m nineteen, I’m an adult, I can date whoever I want, same goes for Zoey, we don’t need anyone’s permission to do so and I will tell Adam that to his face!” Kyle said.

“Tell me what?” Adam asked appearing behind them, startling them, Harry yelped.

“How does he do that?!” Bradley asked Neilson, putting a hand over his chest.

“Oh look…Adam’s home” Harry said nervously.

“Hi” Adam said to them.

“Look everyone it’s…I need to sit” Harry said.

“Not really the warm welcome I was expecting but okay” Adam said setting his bags down.

“Since when do you expect them?” Bradley asked.

“Hey” a girl said coming in behind Adam.

“Oh hey, guys this is Quinn” Adam said happily “She’s a photography major studying abroad” he said “That’s Kyle, Harry, Bradley and Neilson” he said introducing them.

“Hi, nice to finally meet you guys, I’ve heard a lot great things about you” Quinn said to them.

“Really?” Bradley asked confused.

“Well, come on in, make yourself at home” Kyle said to her.

“Oh thanks, wow, Adam this place is incredible” she said taking her jacket off.

“Oh…Adam’s home…I thought it got cold in here for a reason” Natalie said as she came in from the kitchen.

“Hello Natal” Adam said to her “I don’t know you” he said to Sydney.

“Oh uh, Syd, this is Adam, Adam this is Sydney” Bradley said to him.

“Hi” she said nervously.

“Hi” he said to her.

“So you’re Sydney…very nice” he said to Bradley “So you’re Nat’s roommate?” he asked.

“That’s right” Sydney said.

“You have my pity” he said, Natalie slapped his arm “Well anyways, this is Quinn” he said introducing her.

“You two are dating huh?” Natalie said.

“That’s right” Quinn said happily, kissing Adam’s cheek.

“Well good luck to you” Natalie said.

Greta came into the room, handing Harry a drink glass “Oh my god” Quinn said upon seeing her “You’re Greta Leoni” she said.

“I am, hi” Greta said to her.

“I can’t believe this, what are you doing here?” Quinn asked.

“She’s with me” Harry said happily.

“…Why?” Adam asked, Harry glared at him.

“So you’re a photography major” Harry said to Quinn “I’m actually working ask an apprentice for Matthew Abbott” he said.

“You’re kidding, I love his work, he’s one of my favorites” Quinn said.

“Am I getting this right? Harry is dating a model?” Adam asked Kyle.

“Crazy right?” Kyle asked him.

“Think she’s on anything?” Adam asked “You know how supermodels are” he said pressing the side of his nose and inhaling, Kyle shoved him. “Oh yeah, you said you had something to say to me?” he asked Kyle Zoey came in from the kitchen “Zoe?” Adam asked.

“Adam…hi” she said surprised.

“Hey” he said happily, hugging her tightly “This is a surprise, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“Oh boy” Bradley said.

“Yeah this is not going to end well” Neilson said, they then took a seat on the coffee table and watched intently.

“Hey, so I can use some help setting the dining room table…who wants to join me?” Natalie asked nervously, She pulled Neilson up from the coffee table forcefully.

“I wanna watch!” Neilson whined, pulling his arm from her grip and sitting back down.

“I’ll help” Sydney said.

“Oh Quinn, can I get you anything to drink?” Natalie asked.

“Oh yeah that’d be great” Quinn said.

“Oh come on I’ll get it for you” Greta said to her as they went into the kitchen.

“What is happening here?” Sydney asked Natalie.

“It’s a very long story” Natalie said as they went into the dining room.

“My mom said you were spending Thanksgiving with your new boyfriend” Adam said to Zoey.

“Uh…I am” she said.

“Lets see how long it takes him to figure this out” Bradley said to Neilson.

“You are? Then what are you doing…” he then turned to look at Kyle.

“I think he’s got it” Neilson said.

“You’re here with Kyle?” Adam asked “Kyle is your new boyfriend?” Adam asked.

“He’s gonna blow” Bradley said to Neilson.

“So…you’re dating Kyle” Adam said to Zoey.

“Kind of” she said nervously, bracing herself for his inevitable meltdown.

Adam nodded “That’s great” he said “Really, I’m happy for you” he said to her.

“What?!” Neilson said “No!” he said irritated.

“Moving to another country’s made him soft” Bradley complained.

“Wow…thanks” she said “It’s so good to see you” she said hugging him “I’ve missed you so much” she said.

“Missed you too” Adam said.

Greta and Quinn talked amongst themselves as they came back into the room.

“Oh come here I want you to meet someone” Adam said “Zoey, this is Quinn, Quinn, this is my favorite cousin Zoey” he said.

“Hi, nice to meet you” Quinn said shaking her hand.

“You too, I hope you’re taking care of him” Zoey said to her.

“Don’t worry he’s in good hands” Quinn said smiling at Zoey.

Neilson sputtered “Sorry” he said, near laughter.

“Come on I’ll fill you in on all the dirt on my dear cousin here” Zoey said to her.

“Oh I would love that” Quinn said as they went into the dining room.

The smile fell from Adam’s face as he turned to face Kyle “You are dead” he said pointing at him.

“Oh spoke too soon” Bradley said.

“Here we go” Neilson said as they watched in anticipation.

“What?!…but you just said!…” Kyle said confused.

“Well of course I’m going to say that to her!” Adam said “You however are another story!”

“Maybe we should go check on dinner” Harry said to Bradley and Neilson.

“Fine, you go check on dinner and we’ll stay here and watch Kyle die” Bradley said to him.

“God I’ve missed this” Neilson said.

“Okay so walk me through this, you’re in New York, you’re going to school and you just what? Magically bump into Zoey and decide to start dating her?!” Adam asked.

“Actually yeah, that’s exactly what happened” Kyle said. “How was I supposed to know she was going to be there, you didn’t say anything about her getting into NYU!” Kyle said to him.

“I figured there was no way you would be able to actually find each other in a huge ass city!” Adam said “How did this happen?” he asked.

“Alright fine, I was walking around campus on my first day looking for the one building, I bump into this girl, turns out it’s Zoey” he said “I ran into her again during pledge week, she was pledging a sorority, she talked me into pledging a fraternity, we started hanging out more…look it’s no secret that you knew I liked her” Adam scoffed.

“You know what? I don’t need your permission, we’re adults, we can do whatever we want and if we want to be together, we can and you can’t do anything about it!” Kyle said to him.

“The hell I can’t!” Adam said.

“I love her okay?!” Kyle blurted out.

“…What?!” Adam asked.

“What?!” Bradley, Neilson and Harry asked as well.

“Yeah…you heard me! I love her!” Kyle said “…And I’m not afraid of you!” Kyle said.

“You should be” Adam said menacingly.

“What?” Zoey asked as she appeared behind them.

“Must be a family trait, she can appear out of nowhere too!” Neilson said to Bradley.

“Did you just say you loved me?” she asked Kyle.

“Yeah…yeah I did” he said moving closely to her “I love you Zoe” he said pulling her close.

“Kyle…I love you too” she said.

“Aww” Bradley, Harry, and Neilson cooed.

“Oh shut up!” Adam growled.

“Adam…you are my cousin and I love you” Zoey said to him “But Kyle and I love each other and we want to be together…and you just need to learn how to accept that” she said. “Can you do that? For me?” she asked taking his hands “Please?” she asked.

Adam sighed “Yeah…I can do that” he said “For you” he said glaring at Kyle.

“All I ask” she said hugging him.

“But I’m warning you now, anything happens to her and I mean anything, I will make you wish Damien Winchester was still alive” Adam said to Kyle.

“Fair enough…I guess” Kyle said.

“Are we all okay out here?” Natalie asked coming in from the dining room.

“I’m not sure” Neilson said to her.

“Well, I hate to interrupt but dinner is now served” she said.

“I’m watching you” Adam said to Kyle as they all filed into the dining room.

Everyone gathered around the large table “I feel like someone should make a toast” Natalie said holding a glass of wine in her hand.

“I have one” Adam said standing up from the table.

“Oh Jesus” Bradley said bracing himself.

“To Kyle and Zoey” he said raising his glass.

“…that’s it?” Kyle asked confused.

“That’s it” he said shrugging with a smile, sitting back down.

“To Adam and Quinn” Kyle said raising his glass.

“To Bradley and Syd” Neilson said raising his glass.

“To Neilson and Nat” Bradley said raising his glass.

“To us” Harry said to Greta, also raising his glass.

“Here’s to love” Greta said raising her glass.

“Here here” Adam said as they all took a drink.

“Okay, let’s eat” Neilson said.

“Yeah” everyone agreed.

Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays 'Cause no matter how far away you roam If you wanna to be happy in a million ways For the holidays you can't beat home sweet home!

#original characters #bsb fan fiction #jr. bsb series #thanksgiving 2010 #friendsgiving

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