This little notion has been tumbling* around in my head these last few days, and I have a lot of feelings about it, so I'm gonna share those with you!
tl;dr what if Ava and Deborah returned from Singapore to find out that DJ and Nina had become besties after being left behind by their mother and daughter respectively?
This idea came out of me having so many feelings about DJ over the last couple of episodes. How did she feel watching her mom give up the biggest dream she'd ever had, stepping off the peak of a career that had always, always come before DJ, for someone else? For Ava, specifically—Ava, who just appeared a couple of years ago and upended everything, Ava, who DJ had just shown such tremendous grace towards in naming her AJ's godmother? How does this hit her? What is she feeling? And then, just a couple of months after she has her first child, her mom—who, for the first time ever, has nothing else to prioritize over DJ and her grandson—fucks off to Singapore (with Ava!) for eight months and misses basically AJ's entire first year?
And then, on the other hand, there's Nina—Nina, who's alone and floundering, who feels replaced by Deborah (let her and her alone think that Deborah's a mother figure to Ava, the truth is so much worse), who's never going to be a grandma, and who's never met a scam she doesn't want to invest her entire personality into. Nina, losing her mind over the fact that Ava's doesn't have a job anymore and has been kidnapped and will apparently be in Singapore indefinitely?
So like...imagine Nina shows up at DJ's house, freaking out. (DJ doesn't know how she found her address or why Nina, who she's met like twice and whose name she definitely doesn't remember, is acting like DJ's her best and only friend.) DJ's having big feelings herself, but—the crucial but!—DJ's been to therapy and has coping skills. Lots of them.
"Um, okay," she says, trying to peel Nina off of her. "Let's, uh, let's get you a drink."
And Nina's a little nuts, yeah, but Nina also lights up when she sees AJ, cries a little when she holds him, and within twenty minutes has committed all of her lawsuit winnings to his college fund despite DJ's many assurances that that's not necessary and is in fact kind of weird. Nina has like six different tinctures of suspicious natures in her suitcase and when Aidan comes home with a split lip, it turns out one of them actually really helps. (The other turns his tongue a little blue, but she assures him that's normal.) Nina LOVES jewelry, actually, she can't believe she didn't pack any, but she buys everything DJ thinks works for her with the money left over from AJ's short-lived college fund.
Nina's a mom overflowing with love and desperate for connection. DJ's a daughter who's never had that, and actually, it turns out, really, really likes it. A surprising amount.
Nina moves to Vegas. She does not move in with DJ, despite her initial assumptions that she'd be a live-in grandma. This, she comes to understand, is a boundary that DJ's set. DJ's very good at boundaries. DJ's therapist recommends another therapist who's also very good at boundaries, and helps Nina learn about them. Nina's therapist helps her with a lot.
And sure, she doesn't live with DJ and Aidan and AJ, but she's there every few days for family dinner. She watches AJ all the time, and is absolutely positive that Josefina is only there to keep her company when she's otherwise alone with the baby. (Josefina never tells her otherwise.) Nina learns the art of a good con from DJ, and joins her at church every Sunday to peddle the goods. She calls up some of her friends from her previous MLMs, makes a Youtube video about how to extract .zip files to browse through the full lookbook (cheapest pieces starting at $350 for unique, high-quality, hand-tumbled gems carefully set in rare metals), and sets up a little packing station to mail them across the country, all while raking in alllllll of that sweet, sweet suburban housewife lawsuit settlement cash. DJ even lets her help with the rock tumbling sometimes.
Nina cheers the loudest at Aidan's fights. DJ celebrates with her each time she catches herself spiraling into anxiety and uses her coping skills. Nina cries a lot the first time DJ calls her "Grandma Nina" to AJ, and honestly, DJ gets a little misty too.
"It's just so easy with you," Nina tells her one evening in the back yard, a couple of drinks in. "It was never like this with Ava."
"Nothing was ever easy with my mom," DJ replies. Nina's not exactly a walk in the park (she thinks but doesn't say), but she's so much easier than Deborah ever was. And she's there. She wants to be there. She's trying to get better, and doing the work.
Deborah never did that. Not for her.
Nina's there when the TMZ article drops and DJ's phone starts blowing up. DJ goes strangely calm, calling Aidan and asking him to come home, please, apparently her mom is dead. She picks up her son and sits on the couch, not really there. She holds him, trying to pick out five things she can see, four things she can hear. In the background, Nina starts calling Ava frantically. No answer.
Nina's making tea—she doesn't drink tea, and neither does DJ, but it's what you do, isn't it?—when DJ's phone rings. Nina immediately grabs it.
"Ava! I've been calling you for an hour, I can't believe—are you okay, are you coming home? Josefina's getting the house ready, my apartment is only a one bedroom but things are going really well with d'Jewelry, I was looking at the place that you used to live, actually, you know, the mall? But—no, I'm sorry, Ava, what happened? No one knows anything and DJ—oh honey it's so sad, she's barely moved and she hasn't said a word, though AJ's starting to talk, I think he actually said Aunt Deborah the other day, or, well, I think he was trying to, it didn't quite—but it's almost like he knew, do you think..."
Silence for several stunned seconds, which isn't actually silence because Nina doesn't stop talking, and then:
as in you'll never achieve the perfect daily routine, sleep schedule, coping mechanisms, mannerisms, fashion sense etc. even after years and years of healing and improvement and self-discovery. you will never be so good at life that you manage to utilize every waking moment. its great to be productive and all but sometimes you'll suck ass. sometimes you'll take eight hours to be done with a twenty minute job. you'll prioritize the wrong thing. you'll sleep for 12 hrs just to avoid being awake. you'll relapse. and you'll relapse again. you'll forget to turn in the assignment. you'll order too little food. life is far too large and complex for you to even experience it completely, much less try to make sense of and control it. you can't. please give up on that and be at peace with the hours you lose. they are not separate from your life.
#I thought so much about what to make Deborah say… “I missed you too”? “I'm sorry”? I think she would be more comfortable responding with a joke #"I know" make so much sense #like “of course you missed me” #It's a little thing that would definitely make Ava laugh and relax right away #<3 #because obviously Deborah can't admit that she missed her
Title : Madam President
Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/75333641
Word Count : 1,690
Rated : M
Pairing : Julia/Charlene
This is a serious crackfic inspired by Julia’s red phone on her desk (see picture). Charlene, being Charlene, can’t resist teasing her by calling her “Madam President” from time to time.
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The afternoon light slants through the tall windows of Sugarbaker & Associates, pooling in warm amber streaks across polished wood and the glinting brass of Julia’s beloved red telephone. It sits on the corner of her desk like a jewel… or, as Charlene often says, ‘like something straight outta the Oval Office.’
Julia is bent over a notepad, writing in her neat, deliberate script… a list of vendors, deadlines, and reminders. She has been doing this for the last twenty minutes, though one might notice that very little progress has been made. Across the room, Charlene sits at her own desk, idly flipping through a stack of papers and glancing over every few seconds, waiting for Julia to look up.
When she doesn’t, Charlene reaches for her own phone.
She dials one very familiar extension… and, across the room, Julia’s red phone bursts to life.
Julia jumps slightly, then exhales and straightens her shoulders before answering. “Sugarbaker & Associates, this is Julia Sugarbaker speaking.”
There’s a tiny pause… then a voice, muffled but unmistakably Southern and silly, purrs through the line: “Good afternoon, Madam President. This is the Secret Service calling to let you know the Russians have redecorated the embassy without your authorization.”
Julia closes her eyes, exhales slowly, and says nothing for a long, regal moment. Then she simply hangs up the phone.
From across the room comes a soft giggle.
Julia doesn’t turn her head. “Charlene, I do not have the time, the patience, nor the inclination for your childish antics today.”
“Oh, I know you don’t,” Charlene replies cheerfully, rising from her chair. “But it’s mighty funny how you answered that call like it was the Secretary of State himself.”
Julia clicks her fountain pen and continues writing, lips tight but betraying the faintest twitch of a smile. “Some of us take our work seriously, Charlene.”
“Oh, I know that too. You take everything seriously… except me, when you’re pretending not to.”
That makes Julia glance up, just for an instant… the briefest flicker of eye contact, sharp and electric. Charlene catches it, of course, and grins like she’s caught the last piece of pie before anyone else.
“Now, if I were a proper Secret Service agent,” Charlene goes on, strolling closer, “I’d be required to stand real close to Madam President’s desk, just to make sure she’s safe.”
“Charlene,” Julia says, still pretending to write, “if you so much as breathe near this desk, I will personally revoke your security clearance.”
Charlene stops beside the desk anyway. “You can’t revoke something that ain’t official, Cupcake.”
Julia’s pen hovers midair. “Don’t call me ‘that’ when I’m conducting official business.”
“Mm-hm.” Charlene leans down, her blonde curls catching the light, her voice a soft drawl near Julia’s ear. “And what kind of official business are you conducting, Madam President? Foreign policy… or domestic affairs?”
Julia finally sets down her pen. Slowly, she turns in her chair, meeting Charlene’s gaze with a look equal parts reproach and affection… the kind that could freeze a man in his tracks, but that Charlene has learned to melt.
“I swear,” Julia says, her voice low and musical, “if you were anyone else, I’d have you escorted from the premises.”
Charlene smiles. “Good thing I’m not anyone else.”
For a beat, neither of them moves. The clock ticks quietly. Somewhere outside, a car horn sounds on the Atlanta street.
Julia straightens and picks up a stack of papers, walking past Charlene with that slow, deliberate grace that makes every step seem purposeful. She sets the top file down on Charlene’s desk.
“I need you to review the accounts receivable and payable,” she says, her voice crisp and commanding, “and make certain there are no discrepancies.” She tilts her head just slightly, eyes sharp and unwavering, every inch the picture of control and composure.
Charlene blinks, momentarily confused, her mind flicking through her morning’s work. Every report had been reviewed, every ledger checked, every note meticulously filed… she runs a tight ship, and she prides herself on staying ahead. “But… I already did that this morning,” she says softly, flipping her eyes up to Julia.
Julia doesn’t so much as glance up from the papers. “Repetition is the soul of diligence, Miss Frazier,” she says, each word clipped and precise. There’s a faint lift at the corner of her mouth, though… barely noticeable… and Charlene catches it, even if Julia thinks she’s perfectly hidden.
It clicks in Charlene’s mind, and a slow, delicious warmth spreads through her chest. Her Julia… always self assured, always in control… is doing this on purpose. She’s playing Madam President, and she’s doing it beautifully.
Charlene leans back slightly against Julia’s desk, letting herself savor the moment, eyes sparkling with mischief, a slow, delighted smile playing at her lips. She drinks in every detail of Julia: the confident tilt of her chin, the subtle lift of her brow, the graceful authority in the way her hands move over the papers. It’s all so precise, so elegant…
A quiet laugh slips past Charlene, shaking her head just slightly, reveling in Julia’s impeccable performance and feeling utterly captivated by it. She lets out a soft, drawn-out “Juuuliaa…”, her voice thick with amusement and tinged with arousal. She knows exactly the effect it has, how much Julia loves it when she purrs her name… and she never misses a chance to do it, savoring the way it makes Julia’s attention snap fully onto her.
She opens her mouth to say something else, a teasing remark already forming on her tongue, but Julia doesn’t give her the chance. With swift, deliberate grace, Julia strides back across the room.
“Make sure you do it while standing close enough for Madam President to supervise,” Julia says, her tone cool and exacting, every syllable deliberate, “and remember: I do not accept any doodles in the margins.”
Charlene swallows, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. Her smile widens, playful and wicked, as she tilts her head, eyes glinting. Julia’s authority, perfectly performed, only fuels the heat rising in her chest. Standing there, caught between her own amusement and the thrill of Julia’s attention, Charlene can feel her pulse quicken… and she knows, without a doubt, that Julia does too.
She slowly turns around, letting her fingers brush against the file Julia had just placed back on her desk. The paper is cool under her touch, but it does little to distract her from the heat pressing in from behind. She feels Julia move closer, the faint, deliberate brush of her body just behind hers, the delicious warmth of her breath ghosting over the nape of her neck.
Today Charlene is wearing flats, and she can feel with a little thrill how perfectly Julia’s heels match her height. She can’t help a small, inward smile… there’s no way she could have picked a better outfit this morning.
“Is this a new perfume?” Julia murmurs softly, voice teasing but low, right by her ear. Charlene’s chest tightens at the sound, at the nearness, and she can only nod, mind already fogged by the sensation of Julia leaning against her.
She hopes, fervently, that Julia won’t press for the brand… there’s no way she could even remember it right now. Her senses are fully hijacked by Julia: the warmth, the scent, the subtle weight of her presence. Charlene swallows, caught somewhere between anticipation and delight, pulse quickening as every nerve hums with the intimate closeness between them.
Julia presses just a little closer, one hand resting on the edge of the desk, deliberately limiting Charlene’s space, while her other hand slips into her pants, fingers tracing slow circles. Her pulse hammers, her breath catches, and a delicious warmth spreads between her legs, leaving her dizzy with anticipation.
Charlene leans slightly back against Julia, feeling the brush of her presence, every subtle movement igniting a spark along her spine. “Juuuliaa…” she breathes again, this time softer, a mix of longing and playful exasperation. Julia tilts her head, her lips just brushing against Charlene’s ear, her voice low and teasing.
“You’d better be quick,” Julia murmurs, her lips brushing the shell of Charlene’s ear, voice soft and full of knowing, “or we might get caught, darling.”
Charlene’s hands tighten slightly on the papers, heart pounding, caught between the thrill of the closeness and the tiny fear of someone walking in. She’s never felt so exhilarated, so vulnerable and yet so safe in Julia’s careful presence.
Charlene swallows, a flush creeping up her neck, caught between laughter, teasing, and the electric tension that only Julia can pull out of her. Every second feels charged, every breath shared, as if the world outside their living room doesn’t exist at all.
“You really shouldn’t get distracted,” Julia says lightly, a teasing lilt in her tone, “we have work to supervise, after all.”
Charlene’s grin is wicked, her eyes sparkling with equal parts amusement and desire. She swallows hard, feeling the delicious tension of the moment, every nerve alive. “I… I’ll try, but it’s… hard,” she admits, her voice low, teasingly shaky.
Julia lets a soft, satisfied hum escape her lips, leaning just slightly, the closeness intoxicating. “Then I suppose I’ll have to keep a very close eye on you, won’t I, darling?”
Charlene bites her lip, nodding subtly, caught in the swirl of playfulness, intimacy, and the delicious tease of Julia’s carefully measured control. Every second stretches, charged with anticipation, as if the whole room pulses with their secret, unspoken connection.
When Charlene reaches the peak of pleasure, she tilts her head, capturing Julia’s lips… not just to stifle the soft sounds escaping her, but because the taste of Julia has become, utterly and irrevocably, her favorite thing in the world. Still pressed close, she lets herself savor every detail: the warmth of Julia’s presence, the soft brush of her hair against her cheek, the quiet, teasing hum that escapes Julia as their lips meet. Even high on the dizzying swirl of emotion, Charlene’s mind hammers one simple thought over and over… how endlessly, irreversibly lucky she is to have Julia in her life.
Imagine if they end up just sitting in silence enjoying the scenery... and then completely out of the blue Deb says, "I think you're the love of my life". 🥹
I understand the point of the book club, but unless you all also comment on the fics, this is genuinely just...not cool :( as a writer, I want kudos and comments, and i want people to let me know they're interested. I wouldnt want them to discuss my fics somewhere where I would have no clue they're interested! I wish you all understood that there is already a severe lack of interaction to begin with, and this is just contributing to it.
As a writer and reader who cares about commenting on the fanfictions I read, I totally see what you mean. I also notice that members of this Avorah Book Club are so passionate about fanfictions that they’re the names I see most often in the comment sections when I’m leaving my own.
In addition to encouraging people to leave their own kudos and comments, I take the time to gather some of our lovely messages from the discussion and share them in a comment (without using any names) as a little time capsule of extra love for the author.
PLEASE, Avorah shippers, never stop writing, reading, and commenting! There’s no better feeling than another fan making me discover a masterpiece I haven’t read yet! Okay… maybe getting to talk with my favorite authors after I comment on their stories is actually my favorite feeling in the world… I’m looking at you: @jobethdalloway @fictorium @snowivyimconfusi @lysachan @sapphicscholar 💕 Thank you for the love you gave back when you took the time to talk about your stories with me!
