008. Handling Boys In Your Daughter's Life

Harry: “Hey baby.” Coming up behind you, Harry put one hand on your side and stole a quick kiss before you could even look over at him.

“I didn’t even hear you come in.” You chuckled and shook your head before returning your attention back to the sandwiches you were making and arranging nicely onto plastic plates

“I’m sneaky!” Harry laughed and stole a cold carrot stick from the open bag next to you.

“Hey, those are for the kids!” Scolding him, playfully, you shook your butter knife at him and then used it to slice in the middle of a finished salami sandwich. “Can you go and get them actually? Wash their hands?”

“No problem.” Harry grabbed one more kiss from you, this time coming from the other side, and stealing another carrot as he did before heading down the hall, knowing the kids would be in the designated playroom he had designed for Gwen right before her third birthday a few months ago. “Gwennie, Gwennie, Gwen!” Harry sang out before walking right into the room. He spotted Tyson, Louis’s son of four on the ground first. It took him a moment, but Harry soon realized he had his pants and underwear off. He gazed over to see what Tyson was looking at and standing up against the wall, Gwen had her plaid dress raised high up and her Dora the Explorer Pull-Ups down to her knees.

“This is a ‘Gyna!” She declared to her good friend Tyson. “I don’t have what you have.” She put her dress down immediately after, taking notice of her father in the room and waving excitedly at him.

Once the table was set and the dishes put away, you were puzzled as to why Harry hadn’t returned to the kitchen with the kids. You hadn’t heard a tap run or anything. You took to the hallway and heard Harry’s voice right away. You peered into the room to find Harry writing words down on your daughter’s chalkboard and the two kids (now clothed) sitting confused at the pint-sized wooden table nearby.

“Right! So Tyson, what did I just say?” Harry held his hip in one hand and tapped the board with his piece of white chalk with the other, waiting for the four year old to wow him with some sexual health knowledge.

“That I have to go to…go to…go to…coll-idge before I can see Gwen’s….privates.”

Harry stared blankly at Louis’s son while you gaped at your husband in disbelief. Harry was always full of surprises, but this was really unbelievable.

“More or less.” Harry shrugged, seeming unimpressed with his godson at the moment. “And you, young lady, come up here and sign this contract.” He wagged his finger at your daughter to coax her towards the chalkboard.

“Harry!” You shouted to capture everyone’s attention. Gwen didn’t turn to notice you though. She took a little yellow piece of chalk and reached up on the tips of her toes to sign her name, from what she could spell of it, onto the board.

“I walked in here and they were showing each other things!” He shouted, his voice cracking like he was a teenager hitting puberty for the first time. “They needed the talk if they are going to be playing together. What’s going to happen when we go on tour? You know how tour life is!”

“You’re insane.” You merely said, gathering both Tyson and Gwen to take them to eat their lunch.

Liam: In his mind, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was the one who had given her the phone and paid for it after all. Liam figured he should be allowed full access to the contents of his daughter’s phone. It had never really interested him before the name Graham started to be thrown around. He had seen the name pop up on the screen of her cell phone, heard rumblings between you and Belle about this Graham person, and her best friend from school that was always stopping by unannounced had begun to ask a lot of questions about him. However, whenever Liam piped up with some interest about Graham he was greeted with blank stares. He asked you about it, but you merely shrugged your shoulders and called him a boy from school. As far as you knew that was what he was.

Liam wrestled with himself, whether or not he should go through it, but his hands took over while his head lectured him and he typed the password in that he had seen written down upstairs on Belle’s desk and gave himself access to her very private world. He wasn’t sure where to begin. There was photos, videos, text messages, phone call history. From what he knew about teenagers, specifically his fifteen year old, they commuted almost exclusively through text message so he opened hers up and went over his list. There were messages between you and Belle, a conversation he had tried to start, a few girls’ names that he recognized as friends, and right at the top ‘Graham’. Liam didn’t waste a moment wasting it.

He felt his stomach drop. While he hadn’t been expecting to like what he read, this made him a strange mixture of sick and heartbroken. He heard feet shuffling down the stairs quickly (Liam would recognize the sound of his daughter coming from anywhere), so he quickly scrambled to shut down the phone and put it back on the kitchen table where it had been taunting him just moments earlier.

“Mom, have you seen my phone?” Belle called out before turning into the kitchen. “Oh, I thought Mom was home.” Belle muttered, laying her eyes on her Dad vaguely before seeing her cell phone right where she had left it along with a few dirty dishes. She moved to the table and swiped the phone, shoving it into her pocket. It dawned on her that her Dad was acting strangely. He seemed to be totally unable to make eye contact with her. She didn’t read into it and started to leave the room as quickly as she had entered it.

“Don’t you want to put your dishes away?” Liam finally spoke, holding his head up with one hand and hoping that there was some color coming back to his face after what he had just read. His eyes stared at the back of his daughter’s head, recalling when she was little and she used to climb up on his knee and asked him as quietly as she could to fix her always lopsided ponytails. Once she spun around and he saw her face, he had to remember all over again that she wasn’t that precious little girl anymore. She was growing up and she was making her own choices, choices he was not on board with.

Begrudgedly, Belle went back to the kitchen table to pick up the plate she had left there, covered in crumbs, along with an empty glass and jam coated knife.

“Happy?” She asked, rudely and rhetorically while transporting them to the dishwasher.

Liam’s heart felt heavy in his chest, but he cleared his throat as he watched her, scared about his next question.

“Have you had the…the talk with your mum yet?”

“What?” Whipping her head around so fast that her high ponytail seemed to kick up into the air, Belle shot her eyes at Liam with fury. “Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not being gross, Belle, if you’re having sex, I want you to be safe and informed. I’d rather you not having sex at all, but if something happens on a weekend at someone named Max’s house…”

“Oh my God!” She screamed. “Did you read my texts? Did you go into my phone?”

“Well, it’s technically my phone, I pay for it.” Liam pointed out, standing up to assert himself. He was astounded by how many times a day he had to remind his daughter that he was her father, the man of the house, and he was in charge.

“I can’t believe you!”

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me someone was treating you so poorly, Belle. I’m hurt you didn’t come to me. I mean, I want to strangle this kid….”

Belle shook her head in disbelief at her father. She was squinting so hard that she could barely even see him now; he was just a dark blur across the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t tell you. The only thing more embarrassing than having someone use you and then ignore you like a total loser is sending your Dad after them!” She screamed as if Liam was hard of hearing, which she always thought he was.

He didn’t want to, but then and there Liam decided to back down. He remembered being his daughter’s age and how disabling rejection felt. He was proud of her for putting on a brave face in front of him, acting like she wasn’t upset but he knew that she was. Her words now clarified it. Liam let out an exasperated sigh and stepped closer to Belle, trying to reach out and hug her.

“Dad, stop. It’s no big deal.” She put up her palm to stop him from taking another step and started to walk out of the kitchen. “Oh, here.” She pulled her phone from the pocket of her hoodie and slid it onto the table top. “It’s your phone, right?” She always liked to have the last word. She was exactly like her father in that way.

“Belle…” He sighed, his eyes sorrowful as he watched her acting unaffected and tough. Liam would never understand who she inherited that trait from.

“Whatever. Nobody wants to talk to me anyway.” She wasn’t about to let her Dad in on what was going on at school, but her weekend activity hadn’t been kept a secret and she was feeling like a major pariah for it. That was what you were for, not her Dad.

Louis: He had grown up with sisters and he knew this day was coming with Stella. He had folded his hands over his chest at night and prayed to any God willing to listen that his daughter would decide to become a nun or just have some strange aversion to sex. So far, Louis felt like his prayers must have been answered and he was incredibly grateful for it. There had never been any prospect of girlfriends or boyfriends in Stella’s life. She was a creative kid and devoted herself to art and writing. He couldn’t have been happier.

“I will be right back.” Louis informed his company of you, Zayn, Zayn’s longtime girlfriend, and Harry on the back porch where he was barbecuing and swapping stories. There was even some talk about getting back into the studio even though their hiatus had only just begun two weeks ago. Louis slid through the back door of his house and moved into the kitchen. He opened up the fridge to find the right barbecue sauce when the most startling crash noise from above him caught his attention. It scared him so much that he nearly smacked his head on the fridge door when he jumped.

“Stella, are you okay?” He yelled up through the ceiling, but his only response was piercing silence. Louis let the fridge door close behind him and went upstairs. He took the stairs cautiously, a feeling in the pit of his stomach letting him know that something wasn’t quite right. He knocked on the door of his seventeen year old’s room lightly, letting her know he was there before opening it up completely. He found Stella sitting at her desk, pencil in hand and graphite paper under her elbow. It was not unlike any time before when he checked up on her or just wanted to see what she was up to. He loved how artistic she was. He was constantly boasting to the band and crew about what a talented artist she was and how she was going to study graphic design or animation or something along those lines.

“Hi Dad.” She acknowledged him in the room, but didn’t turn her head to look at him or anything. That struck Louis as odd, so he stepped further into the depths of Stella’s room. His eyes moved from wall to wall, smiling as he took note of different sketches, collages, and little doodles she had thumb tacked around her room. He peered over her shoulder to see that all she had currently drawn was a curved line in light pencil.

“What are you working on?” He squeezed her shoulders lightly and fondly looked down at her. You always had to remind Louis that she was nearly an adult, but he still treated her like she was his newborn baby. “An homage to your old man?” He chuckled. It was one of his favorite jokes to make.

“Yep.” Stella replied with a nod. Louis noticed then a fresh black blob made its way to the page, sinking into the graphite and staining it charcoal.  It was a teardrop, black from mascara. Louis tilted his head and stared up at his daughter, noticing how wet her usually vibrant blue eyes were, and the black gathering around them. Before he could ask her what the matter was, he heard a sneeze come from her closet right next to them. Louis bolted to the door despite hearing Stella tell him not to and pulled it open to reveal the tall curly haired kid who worked at the nearest gas station standing in its darkness. He didn’t have a shirt on, but that didn’t stop Louis from reaching into the wardrobe and pulling him out by the back of the neck, squeezing it like he was trying to push his fingers all the way in. “Dad, please don’t make this a thing.” Stella stood up, her tear stained face completely exposed now. The boy looked terrified in Louis’s grip while Louis was taken over with rage. Stella had never seen him like that before. His eyes were usually as bright as a child’s eyes and he was rarely without a smile when he was around her.

“Explain to me what is going on, Stella. Why is this kid in your closet?” He shouted, shaking the kid by the neck in the middle of the bedroom.

She sucked her mouth inward, petrified and embarrassed by the situation. Stella had never lied to her Dad before. She was the definition of a good kid and she had never imagined being in this kind of situation with Louis.

“Is he your boyfriend?!” Again, Louis shouted.

“No!” Stella cried out, running her hands through her long brown hair and holding it tightly to her head in agony. “We’re just friends, or we were, and we were hanging out…you guys were outside…” The more she talked, the more distressed she seemed to become.

“Can I go, please?” The kid squeaked only prompting Louis to take his arm with his only free hand and pull it uncomfortably and tightly behind his back. It felt like the best way to tell him ‘no’, or the clearest.

“Stella, tell me you are not…” Louis couldn’t even say it. “With this tool…it would be such a mistake, you would be throwing everything away. Please tell me…”

“We’re not!” Stella screamed, not sure if she ever had screamed in Louis’s face before but she also couldn’t remember feeling this much stress over anything besides school work before. “We’re not. He wanted to, but I don’t so I just pushed him off the bed. That was what you heard. Oh my God, this is embarrassing.”

The room seemed to freeze. At least for Louis, it did. Out of the corner of his blue eyes, he could see his daughter shifting in distress, but he felt numb. Some kid that he had trusted to pump his gas, that his daughter obviously trusted enough to consider a friend, had betrayed all of that and tried to be slimy with her. Louis considered his only job in the world to provide for you and Stella, so it didn’t surprise him in the least to have his heart start beating without control when he put together what was going on in his house while he was in the backyard. He didn’t snap back into reality until he felt the kid squirming in his hands.

“Oh right, you wanted to leave, didn’t you?” Louis glared down at the kid.

“Yeah.” He squeaked again.

With your legs crossed on a patio chair, you were looking over at photos Harry was showing you on his phone happily. It dawned on you that Louis was taking a while inside, but Zayn checked on the barbecue and claimed everything was fine. Along with Harry, you looked up at the sound of an above window opening, but you weren’t expecting to see your husband holding the gas station attendant by the ankles out the window. Strangely enough, the first thing you thought was ‘why doesn’t he have a shirt on?’ While Harry jumped up from his chair with wide eyes, you didn’t spring into action until Stella joined you on the porch, tears in her eyes, and stress painted over her usually carefree face.

“Mom, I don’t know what to do.” She ran to you, licking her lips and beginning to cry into your jean jacket clad shoulder.

“Oy, mate, what the fuck is going on?” Zayn finally called up to Louis. Just as Stella had been, Zayn was surprised by the terrifying glare in Louis’s eyes. He had never seen it before.

“This kid is trying to get fresh with my daughter in my house!” Louis shook him by the ankles, causing him to let out a frightened whimper.

“Louis, put the kid down.” You warned calmly, rubbing Stella’s  back as you did.

“No, don’t tell him that!” In a panic, the boy squeaked.

Harry and Zayn were already heading into the house to help their friend out though. After all, Harry was Stella’s godfather and Zayn considered himself an honorary uncle.

Niall: It seemed as soon as his son hit puberty, things fell off track. They weren’t getting along like they used. There was a time where they were just like two boys, always kicking the ball around the backyard or wrestling in the basement. Niall didn’t know if his son felt the same way, but he considered himself a good friend to his boy, but now it was like communicating with an invalid. Jane, on the other hand, his sweet baby girl, was still his princess. She was as blond haired and fair skinned as she was the summer night she was born and just as giggly as she had been as a toddler. He was influenced heavily by his daughter, even though she was a budding teenager now, due to her forever optimistic outlook on life. He wasn’t sure if he could, but Niall liked to take credit for the amazing human being she was turning out to be.  

The blond teenager, freshly fifteen, was seated on the floor backstage at the Madison Square Garden and working on her summer reading list. She would have much rather been outside playing any number of sports, a tomboy since birth she was, but it was either sit in the empty arena and watch her father and honorary uncle’s sound check or finish The Crucible.

“Hey kiddo,” Her father’s unmistakable voice caught her attention and she looked up to see him just entering the room, tossing his presumably sweaty towel towards her. Somehow, she managed to reach up and catch it before it made contact with her face. “Let’s grab some lunch. I’m starving.” He made his way over to her. “There’s a burrito truck just down the block.” According to Niall, any time was a good time for Mexican food.

“I’m almost finished.” Jane held up her finger as her Dad sat down on top of the coffee table in front of her. She was really just two pages away from being done with the book. It felt pointless to her to stop now. She wouldn’t even pick it up again if she left it, Jane was certain of it. Jane tried to read the remaining part quickly, but her dad was making it impossible with his sighing and anxious toe tapping. “There’s a granola bar in my book bag if you’re really dying.” She looked at him and laughed with amusement. Niall hopped up on both feet and went straight for his daughter’s open bag on the ground. He unzipped the front pouch and reached in, pulling out plastic circle instead of any wrapped granola bar.

“Jane.” Niall stayed on his bent knees, clearing his throat before he called for her. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to see if she was paying him any attention. “What is this?” Niall knew perfectly well what it was, but he held up the container anyway and waited for Jane’s answer.

The teenager looked  petrified more than anything and Niall found that to be a reasonable reaction as he was filling with rage.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” He asked, his words overanuciated the way they always were when he was upset. Jane had heard the voice her Dad was using before, but only when he was talking to her older brother. She swallowed hard around the new lump in her throat and put the book down on her lap, stroking her blond hair furiously for comfort.

“Not really.” Very literally, she answered. “Dad, this is embarrassing.” She glanced at the door, noticing that Liam was about to come in and greet her, but had clearly taken a beat after seeing the expression Niall was wearing on his face.

“You’re embarrassed? Well, if you’re embarrassed by it, you aren’t ready to be having sex!” He shouted and walked right behind the couch to the garbage can, tossing the package of pills into the bag.

“Dad!” Jane whined, pulling at her locks like she wanted them to come out of her head.

“Why are you on the pill!? You’re five!” Niall yelled, both of his arms outstretched.

“I’m fifteen and Mom suggested I go on it because of cramps and because…you know….it’s not uncommon in high school…”

“Oh, because you’re in high school you have to have sex?”

“No!” Jane shouted, which was very out of character for her. “She just wants me to be prepared.”

“She should have consulted with me.” He muttered, putting a fist on both sides of his hips out of stubborn anger. “You’re not on the pill.”

“Dad, I’m not a little kid anymore. You have to grow with me or…” Jane swallowed before finishing her sentence, not wanting to say anything more. She loved her father too much to hurt him.

“Or what?” Niall’s tongue spat back.

“Or I’ll become just like my brother.” She warned, knowing just how hard it was for Niall to have his son constantly pushing him away or avoiding him all together. Jane packed her book into her bag and threw it over one shoulder, tossing her hair around as she stood up to face her Dad again. He didn’t look angry anymore, not even hurt, just melancholy. As blue as he could get without changing colors. “Now, burritos? I’m starving.” She offered him a soft smile as a gesture to forget about the whole thing. Jane was like her father in the way that she was always up for eating.

“Here.” He pulled up a few folded ten dollar bills from his pocket and reached out to hand them to her. “Bring me back something. I need to go deal with something.” It was better than telling his daughter he needed to take a walk around the arena, maybe confide in one of his band mates. He loved his daughter, but he was not adjusting well to her growing up. Things were so much easier when he could hold her in his arms and she couldn’t put together full sentences.

Zayn: “Pizza is on its way!” Walking by the door of his daughter’s room, Zayn called out without a second thought.  He stuffed his phone into his pocket and was on his way to go sit and watch the game in the living room. He caught a glimpse of his daughter, Vera, sitting teepee style on her bed and flipping through a magazine slowly, circling different bits of it with a thick Sharpie. Her cousin, Lia, and Liam’s daughter, Belle, were both in her room. Lia on the floor, painting her toes a bright shade of purple, while Belle was just leaning against the closet door. Zayn would have liked to have some one on one time with his only child, his little girl, but he remembered what it was like to be fourteen. He didn’t want to hang out with his parents on Friday nights either.

“You know Derek Milton?” Lia piped up, focusing more on her toes than anything else. “He’s in mine and Belle’s grade.”

“Yeah.” Vera merely nodded. She glanced up at Belle when she caught her laughing, but only chuckled back in response. “What about him?”

“He was saying at lunch that you guys slept together.” Lia informed her cousin, causing Vera’s eyes to grow so large they took up most of her face. Zayn’s face reacted the same way and he certainly wasn’t going to stop eavesdropping now. He moved his back against the wall and tried to remain very still.

“Well, that’s not true. “ Vera stated as clearly as she could, hoping her friends believed her. Zayn did though and he breathed a rather large sigh of relief at the sound of his daughter’s answer. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. “I’ve only talked to him once. I was waiting outside for Mrs. Payne to pick me up and he offered Belle and I a ride.” She explained and all Zayn could think was that he was going to send a driver to pick Vera up from school now.

“Well he claims to have given you a ride.” Lia continued, howling to herself. It made Zayn sick to hear and imagine. His little girl was fourteen. He was only just adjusting to having tampons under his sink for her. Now this!?

“That’s gross. Ew.” Vera physically shuddered. “He’s cute, but not who I imagine for my first time.”  She was still a virgin and it was absolute music to Zayn’s ears. He had to restrain himself from bursting into the room and throwing his arms around her in a tight embrace.

“Everyone’s first time sucks. You really are best to just get it over with.” Lia advised. She felt since she was sixteen, she knew so much more than Vera ever could at her tender young age. Zayn wanted to hear more, he felt like he was just at the height of the plot, but the doorbell rang and nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. He had forgotten all about the ordered pizzas.

He headed to the door straight away and paid the teenage boy for the pizzas, but he couldn’t shake his daughter’s conversation from his mind. He even narrowly looked at the delivery kid and told him to be nice to girls. It was very bizarre.

“Pizza’s here!” He yelled as he turned around, startled to see his daughter was already there behind him. Vera reached in and helped herself to the top box, assuming it was the right one for her, Lia, and Belle.

“Thanks, Dad.” She smiled at him quickly and turned to go back to her bedroom.

“Hey Vera, come here.” He nodded at her as he led them both into the kitchen. Zayn wasn’t a teenager anymore. He wasn’t just going to eat out of a cardboard box. She didn’t want to, but Vera followed her dad and rested the hot pizza box down on the counter. “How’s school going?” He asked her, studying her face and body language as he did.

“I don’t know. Good? Mrs. Lincoln wants me to try out for basketball. She thinks I’m going to sprout up or something.” Vera was all limbs. She didn’t know what to tell her Dad though. It was a really strange time for him to ask her that considering she had just gone over her report card with him and he was pretty happy with it (with the exception of geography and biology).

“Good. You should.” Zayn nodded. “And everyone’s nice to you? Boys?”

“Uh…yeah.” Stepping back, Vera leaned against the kitchen counter and shot her Dad one of the strangest looks she could conjure up. It was the same one she gave her cousin when she told her that some kid said he had slept with her.

“I’m just checking. I want you to know that you can talk to me about that. I’m a cool dad.” Zayn told her before shooting two finger guns in her direction along with a toothy  (and very cheesy) grin.

“Alright. I’ll remember.” Vera laughed and picked up the pizza box in her hand again, anxious to return to her friends.

“I love you and I’m very proud of you.”

“Thank you. You too?” Vera laughed and started to leave, only to get a sneaky kiss on top of her head from her Dad.

“Alright, you’re free to go. I’m in the living room if you need me. I might start playing the piano if you guys want a concert.”

Vera just laughed and shook her head, happily returning to her girl friends in her bedroom.

Not sure how I feel about this one, so feedback is always appreciated along with requests/suggestions! Thanks.

I’m always willing to accept a little hyperbole but...

I realize that there’s one big misinterpretation between what most people I see are thinking and what I thought: 

When they said, “That’s what you said the last fifteen times,” I thought they meant the Doctor had done that specific scene fifteen times. As in, they ran into the Black Archive, and it took fifteen tries for the Doctor to talk Bonnie and Kate down. And most people seem to think that the whole scenario (ceasefire breaking/factions/UNIT mobilizing…) had been done fifteen times. 

I can certainly see that … but I like my interpretation better because Occam’s Razor if nothing else. Two years is a very short time to cram in all that.


preference–– thanksgiving

sorry if this is utter shit but I’m on mobile at the moment and kinda owed this to you 

Shawn: “I can’t mash these anymore, babe. My arms aren’t strong enough.” You gave up on the mashed potatoes, handing the spoon to Shawn for him to continue your original job. “It’s a good thing my arms are stronger then, right?” Scoffing in mock offense, you moved over to the bag of green beans resting on the kitchen counter. Now that Shawn was getting big in the music business, he thought it would be a good idea to have Thanksgiving dinner with both of your families and all of the boys; the last thing he wanted was to forget where he started just because he was famous. “I love you, you know that, right?” Shawn pulled you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head. “Of course I do. And I love you too.”

Hayes: “And God bless the horseys! Amen!” You were having Thanksgiving dinner with the Grier family, and Skylynn was saying grace for dinner. Laughter erupted from around the table as she finished her prayer and immediately dug into her food. “So, Hayes, you and (Y/N) must be getting pretty serious for you to have her over for Thanksgiving dinner,” Chad tormented, a sly smile on his face. “Are things serious?” Hayes blushed slightly, growing embarrassed from this confrontation in front of most of his family- and Nash, who would never let him hear the end of this. “I mean, look at her,” He picked up the bowl of rolls, putting one down on his plate. “It’s kinda hard not to fall for that smile.”

Matt: You bounced up and down as Ariana Grande passed on her float, belting out Baby, It’s Cold Outside. Thanksgiving in New York. Matt had surprised you with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and you guys were close to the action. You had always wanted to go, but your family had never really pushed it. “Matt, this is probably the best Thanksgiving ever,” He smiled sheepishly, tightening his grip on your hand. “The parade has always been on my bucketlist.” Matt shot you a panicked look and threw his arm around your shoulder. “Bucketlist? I hope you’re not planning on leaving me anytime soon,” He laughed forcefully. “Just live life to the fullest, the way you should be living. No bucketlists; not this soon.”

Cameron: “As amazing as that was, I could’ve gone without the cocktail olives.” Cameron pulled you onto his lap as the both of you sat on the kitchen floor. “Hey, it was your idea to try and recreate gossip girl. Serena and Nate had cocktail olives.” You laughed, amused by Cameron’s dedication. He played with the buttons on your- his- shirt, slowing unbuttoning them again. “Cameron…” He smirked teasingly, pulling the shirt just enough to see your lace bra. Kissing your collarbone, he unbuttoned the rest of the buttons, pulling the shirt off completely. “I know what you’re going to be thankful for.”

Nash: “I know it’s a little cheesy, but you make me cheesy,” You walked out onto the deck of your shared apartment that overlooked the city. A small table was set up with food, and two pillows on either side of the table for the two of you to sit on. “Happy Thanksgiving, (Y/N).” There were lights lining the edge of the deck, with faux leaves decorating the ground. “Nash, it’s gorgeous.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “I know that you wanted to spend the holiday with your family, so I set up a FaceTime with them later on today.” You hugged him gratefully, kissing his cheek before taking a seat on one of the pillows.

Jack G: “Too much turkey, Gilinsky,” You collapsed onto your shared bed, finally able to rest after a day of family drama and eating (and more eating). “Now, sleep.” Jack snuggled up next to you, wrapping his arms around your torso. “Not yet babe,” He started to kiss your neck, working on one spot specifically, “Give me fifteen minutes.” Your eyes shot open at his insinuation, stuck deciding between Gilinsky and sleep. “Jack…I’m tired…” He kissed up your jaw, meeting your lips in a deep kiss. “(Y/N), please,” His hands wandered your body, feeling up and down your sides. “Ten minutes.”

Jack J: “We have to get back to dinner, Johnson. The boys are probably wondering where we are.” Jack pulled you back into the kiss, his hands jerking you back against his body. “Let ‘em wonder.” His hand ran through your perfectly curled hair, the other one pulling you even closer. The two of you had excused yourselves from the table after a TMZ blast was sent about the Jack & Jack pop/rap duo and their cheating antics. You had been in the upstairs bathroom for almost thirty minutes, mostly arguing over whether or not the blast was true. Now, Jack was pushing you up against the wall, urging you to jump. As you wrapped your legs around his waist, there was a knock at the bathroom door. “Jack, (Y/N), the turkey’s done. Stop fucking.”

Carter: Carter’s mother had called you to see what time you and Carter would be over. You knew she had been slaving away in the kitchen all day, and Carter was in no hurry to leave the boys and their dinner. “Carter, that’s the third time your mother’s called, I think it’s time to leave.” He sighed deeply, taking a sip of his Sprite. “Guys, I gotta go. Dinner with the fam awaits.” He said a quick goodbye to all the guys and grabbed his coat, escorting you out the door. “Your mom’s going to be pissed.” Carter shook his head in disagreement. “I think she’ll be fine. We’re going to have dinner with them, even though we’re an hour late. The important thing is that we’ll be with family.”

Aaron: You waited silently in the waiting room, a now cold cup of coffee in your hand as you bounced you leg impatiently. Aaron was sitting next to you, nearly pulling his hair out as he held back tears. The two of you were spending Thanksgiving at his parent’s house when his mom went out to see if she could get another cup of flour. That’s when the accident happened, that’s when the car slid into hers. That’s how the two of you, alongside the rest of Aaron’s family, had ended up in the hospital waiting room. As badly as you wanted to reassure Aaron that his mother would be fine, you weren’t sure that was true, and Aaron was always the type that need to cool down before being confronted. So you sat in silence with nothing but heart monitors and daily news playing in the background.

Taylor: “Thanksgiving on the road?” Taylor nodded eagerly, motioning towards the passenger door. “Think about it, (Y/N). We’ll have a chance to go to cities we’ve never been to, and eat at places we’ve never even heard of.” You shook your head slowly. Taylor was a spontaneous person, you knew that. But you had forgotten just how spontaneous he could be. “I don’t know, Taylor.” He frowned, his disappointment obvious. “Come on, (Y/N). I want to spend the holiday traveling with the girl I’m madly in love with.”

I’ll probably be editing this later, so sorry for all the errors 

-jay c.