#and the money they make off of paper and christmas trees... guess what... is used to take care of the forest for hundreds of years

[latenightjjk]

fuck every single person who advocates for "ecology" thinking they know how to manage a forest and that trees should never ever be cut down but at the same time want everything to be made out of paper...

[sopiao]

OMG I LOVE YOU WAITRESS!READER X GHOST AU,,,, MAY YOU PLEASEEEE MAKEEEEEE MOOOOOOOORRRRWWW AAAAAAAA!!!!!

YES YES YES

I FUCKING LOVE THIS TROPE

I WAS HOPING SOEMONE WOULD ASK FOR MORE 😭😭

Sitting on the bar, where Simon usually sits at, you waited—for him. The other side didn’t have any seats and there were no customers so it wouldn’t really cause any fuss with your boss.

Mindlessly scrolling on your phone, you didn’t even hear the familiar chime of the door when it opened. Simon watched as you didn’t even flinch, or blink, at the sound of his arrival, he chuckled at the opportunity.

Sneaking up behind you and using his gloved hands to cover over your eyes, making you jump with a small yelp.

“Guess who?” He grins at the way you put your hand over his and pull it down while you look up at him with a playfully annoyed look.

—

“Don’t think it’s gonna let up any time soon” Simon had his head turned towards the window, watching and listening how hard the water is smacking against the glass. Making you sigh in disappointment.

“Mm” You press your lips together before biting at your lower lip, trying to come up of a way to get home dry.

“What’s wrong?” He stares at you, wondering what you were so worried about and what he can do to help.

“If this rain doesn’t go away I might be drenched by the time I get home” You shake your head, huffing out a sigh as you accept your fate and lean forward to rest your elbows on the wooden countertop.

After half an hour of talking the usual routine of how each other’s day was and complaining about the creepy customers. He leaves. Coming back a minute later embarrassed since he forgot his phone at the counter.

When you go to clock out and hope that your coat will at least try to keep you dry, you find a small black compact umbrella on his seat and a small sticky note that read: no need to return it :). His handwriting was somewhat neat, kinda rounded. He must’ve sneaked it in when he ‘forgot’ his phone.

—

He looked at the phone charm on the edge of your phone case then back at you. Exhaling a chuckle to show how childish he thinks it is, but really, he finds it cute how you can find such interest in such cute things.

“What the hell is he?” He asked, taking the phone charm in his hand and twisting it between his fingers. It was a tiny Pekkle 3D charm, a little model.

“A duck. Can’t ya’ tell?” You watched his amused expression. Placing the little ducky to stand on the counter next to his coffee cup.

“He’s kinda stupid looking”.

“HEY!”.

—

“You’re spending Christmas working?” Simon asked, surprised that you’d even pick up the shift. It was a week and a half before Christmas so he’s surprised that you’re not gone to go visit family or something

“Yeah? I don’t really have plans, so might as well make money instead of wasting time” You sigh, kinda upset since you just realized that you are spending Christmas alone. Simon hummed in response, looking down at his cup of coffee.

Days later, a day before he’s deployed, he stopped by during the day. Catching you by surprise, you had just clocked in, since you weren’t really expecting him at all actually.

“I can’t really stay long. I wanted to drop this off” He said hastily, like he was anxious rather than in a rush, dropping two paper bags in your hands, one plain brown and the other decorated, and leaving before even saying goodbye.

“That’s your guy? Didn’t think he’d be so..” Your coworker bounced excitedly as she followed you to the staff room so you can see what he gave you. To be honest, your were excited as well.

“I— I never said he was ‘my guy’!” You immediately shut up when you opened the little cardboard box and saw a mini christmas tree inside it with tiny ornaments. You can tell he painted tiny things on the ornaments it came with: a coffee cup, a duck, a skull. Something only you two would understand, along with other things Christmas related.

“AWWWWW” You coworker gushed at how much effort he put into this, leaning against you and looking at each of the messily painted ornaments. You knew he wasn’t very artistic but you can see the effort he put in. Placing it at the front of the counter, arranging the decor on the small branches in a way that the design is always showing.

The other decorated bag was pink with yellow stars on it, stapled shut with translucent pink makeshift bow on the handle

It had a tag that said: ‘don’t open until x-mas’

Christmas eve, you stared at the clock until it was exactly 12. Opening up the bag and getting the tissue paper out of the way there were three things. A dark blue mug with white stars on it, a tiny astronaut keychain, and your favorite thing most of all: a duck plushy, but a specific duck, Pekkle.

It made your heart flutter that he was so thoughtful, getting you things he knows you’d like, let alone get you anything. For the entire rest of your shift— week actually— all giddy and fluttery like a school girl. Thinking about what to get him, and if he’ll treasure it.

[rachellesedai]

A tiny holiday fic for Lockwood and Co. I've only read the first two books so please forgive any inconsistencies. I just love them so much.

Lockwood & Co Happy Holidays

“What are you doing?”

Lockwood’s cool voice startled me and I teetered on the stool I’d dragged into the living room. I put out a hand and steadied myself, careful not to knock any of the artifacts off the wall where I was attempting to affix a string of lights. Only then did I half turn and look down at Lockwood standing below me, his hands on his hips. I couldn’t tell from his expression if he was amused or annoyed at the transformation I had worked on our little sitting area.

Cut paper snowflakes covered in silver glitter were tacked up in various spots. A few even hung from the ceiling tied to bits of string. An evergreen garland with sprigs of plastic holly wound its way along the shelves and an old-fashioned Christmas village adorned the mantle.

“I found a box of decorations in the basement shoved behind some old sparring equipment. I thought we could cheer the place up a bit.” I turned back to the wall and secured the lights. I bent to step down and found that Lockwood had crossed the room and was holding out a hand to assist me. I took it and hopped down, but rolled my eyes at him. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“No,” he said slowly, “It’s very… festive.”

I peered into his eyes, my stomach tightening as I worried I’d trampled on some old family tradition or brought up an unwanted memory. I opened my mouth to offer to take everything down when George burst into the room. He still wore his puffy coat and his cheeks were red from the cold.

“Did you make this gingerbread, Lucy?” he asked, taking a large bite, “It’s quite g—” George stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening. “What’s all this?”

“Lucy’s done some holiday decorating,” Lockwood said, “It’s quite lovely, don’t you think, George?”

“I thought you hated Christmas,” George stammered, taking in the lopsided miniature tree on the coffee table, “A load of sentimental nonsense, I think you said.”

“I don’t hate Christmas,” Lockwood muttered, at the same time I said, “I should have asked you before putting it up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lockwood said, glowering at George.

I shrugged. “My mum always thought decorations were a waste of money. I guess I was always a little jealous of all those cute little houses covered in pretty lights with their fancy trees and perfect little families inside. When I saw the box I just really wanted to put lights up everywhere and have a real holiday for once.”

I looked away, my cheeks heating up. I hadn’t intended to say all that. The last thing I wanted was for the boys to feel sorry for me. I brushed a bit of glitter off my jumper and wrapped my arms around myself. I studiously avoided looking at either George or Lockwood. The multicolored lights blinked on and off as a thick silence hung in the room.

“Well, I think we could use some Christmas cheer after last week’s job,” Lockwood said, “That abandoned school was enough to dampen anyone’s spirits.”

I sighed. He was right. Dealing with the ghosts of so many children had been depressing, if not terribly dangerous. I risked a look at him and saw that quirky little smile he always used to try and tease me into a better mood.

“A little nonsense will do us some good,” he said, an encouraging lilt to his voice, “What do you think, George?”

“I think it’s fine as long as there is more of this gingerbread,” George said, “In fact, I have something that will make it perfect.”

I looked inquiringly at Lockwood as George hurried out of the room. He shrugged at my unspoken question. “I have no idea.”

I looked around the living room; the glow of the lights reflected off the glitter on my handmade snowflakes. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Lockwood’s fingers brushed mine and I realized he was still standing quite close to me. “If it makes you happy, Lucy, I’m all in,” he said in a low voice. I turned and looked up at him. His eyes were warm and sincere. A riot of butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

“I’m very happy,” I whispered. Lockwood leaned in. Our foreheads almost touched.

At that exact moment, of course, George returned. He had shed his coat and was lugging the skull, an old cassette player, and a dusty shoebox shoved under one arm. He was also wearing an alarmingly large Santa hat.

I shook my head, laughter bubbling up as George placed the skull on a chair and put the Santa hat over the top of the jar. “I think we should see just how much Christmas cheer this thing can stand,” George said, plugging in the cassette player.

The shoebox, it turned out, was stuffed with cassette tapes in tiny plastic boxes. George selected one, popped the tape in, and pressed the play button. A slightly tinny rendition of “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” filled the room. The skull materialized, an expression of disgust forming for an instant before it dissolved into a sullen green glow.

Lockwood smiled and gave my hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll make some cocoa,” he said.

Soon Lockwood, George, and I were curled up in our chairs, sipping cocoa, and listening to George’s very eclectic collection of Christmas carols. I looked over at Lockwood who had tossed aside his magazine and was leaning back in his chair, regarding me thoughtfully.

Thank you. I mouthed. He nodded, a rather satisfied smile on his lips. I smiled back and settled down to enjoy a rare quiet evening at home. “Happy Christmas,” I whispered to myself, confident this was going to be the best holiday season ever.

[indigo474]

i made it through the day

I actually had a good day. i wasn't feeling tired at all and was starting to wonder WHY i wasn't tired.. I'm tired now. I did pricing today. It's an awful system-not fair at all. I get a commission for every account i renew to stay with company for another year. The higher my margins the higher my commission. My margins were very good today- by good i mean high- I feel bad-people dont know how they are going to pay their bill and i'm well-- i can offer you this outrageous price- the more i do it the more i get a feel for people. if i feel like someone is going to give me a problem, i'll start a little lower. I didn't invent the system- at the end of the day i gotta eat too. I do feel bad for people.. the little person does get screwed. I do like pricing-i could be a part of the pricing department and be done with the whole career progression - it's not my dream to become a supervisor. i want to make the most money i can make. Pricing is the department to make that money. So.. i don't know- for now i am helping out. i mean sure supervisor looks good on paper-i don't care about paper- i want to get out of this rat race- i certainly do not want to go somewhere else- unless $$$..

in my nightmare x found a joint in a cigarette pack that belonged to my son and was storming upstairs angry. I kept trying to talk but nothing would come out of my mouth. Ive been having a hard time lately coming to terms with what actually happened. I guess i have come to terms with things but it is STILL hard for me to believe how fucking evil he is. i shouldn't regret trying to help save someone's life. i did what i thought was right at the time. he hated me after that.. i exposed him. i blew it up. he didn't like that. but yeah i struggle coming to terms with reality that i got played by him. makes trusting myself hard. My mom had me laughing about the kitchen on chatham and how i destroyed it. i really did. i hope he has fun scraping the paint off of the cabinets and the counter. and that floor- i always hated it. i'll be ok.

I am so excited for out Blue Christmas themed tree. it's going to be amazing.

I was going to go for a run in the morning- nosleep- i was going to go tonight- i'm exhausted. I'm going to try again for the morning. it'll be dark and i hope i don't get killed. ill bring my license just in case. i'll leave my vape pen at home- i took it with me last time- just in case. I think i should take a self defense class. i was listening to a podcast and this guy was saying the best form of self defense are you feet. Like run away from whoever is trying to hurt you. he said most people believe if someone grabs them to start a fight or hurt them they are going to just freak out and hurt the attacher- that's how i feel-like i would fuck someone up- BUT most people have never been grabbed so they are at a total disadvantage, by the time they even figure out what is going on it's too late. Goodpoint-if someone grabbed me on the street or in the park i would have no idea what to do. i have mace but i don't even know if i'd be fast enough to use it-by the time i got it out of my pocket and turned the little thing and made sure it was pointed the right way all while holding my phone- i'd be dead. i'm also not going to worry about becoming victim. i should look into a class for me and MAds.

I started tracking my food- it really helps. even if i do get accused of being obsessed. i'm putting in the hard work and i want to see results. so here i am.

i like working from home.. if i never had to step foot into the office again-i wouldn't.

everyone is hush hush about their tree theme. i was messing around with the super how won last year- trying to guess her theme. she said i guess. i told her i wouldn't have to because i'd find the weak link on her team and they would tell me. she assured me no weak links. she was wrong. i found the weak link and know her theme- around the world- i feel bad that i know and don't have the heart to tell her. there's always a weak link-i hope it's never me.

[dulcewrites]

Just to Keep You Satisfied

Summary: As you and Elvis sit down to go over you separation papers, you two reminisce and Elvis makes a final plea for you two to stay together.

Pairing: Austin!elvis x reader (wc: 1.5k)

Warnings: mentions of cheating, allusions to drug use

Requested: no

A/N: ok so I’m very excited for this to be out. I highly recommend listening to the song. It inspired for not only the idea. And of course the scene where Priscilla leaves/the airport scene from the movie. As for timeline: Elvis and reader met in 1960, got married in 1966, had Emerson in 1967, now they’re separating in 1973. Please reblog, like, and follow 🫶🏽

You don’t remember exactly when being in Graceland made you so anxious. It’s the house you lived in for years. You got proposed to in this house, you went into labor in this house, you’ve raised your son, Emerson, in this house. But you sit at the dining table, feeling uneasy in somewhere you thought would be your forever home.

Then again maybe that cold, somber feeling was inevitable. Graceland is also the place where you twiddled your thumbs while your husband traveled city to city doing God knows what with God knows who. It’s the place where you told Elvis you couldn’t be with him anymore. And now it’s the place where you are going to sign your separation papers.

You look down at the large Manila envelope in front of you, before looking across the table at Elvis. He’s sitting there, arms crossed with a scowl on his face. His eyes covered with big chrome glasses. The standoffish attitude was expected and understandable. But it does bug you a bit that he was the one that wanted this sit down to happen, and he’s pouting in silence.

“I read over it yesterday,” you decide to break the silence. “Everything looks good on my end.”

All you get in response is a hum in response. What the hell does that mean? ‘Hmmm I agree’ or ‘hmmm go to hell’? This is not going to be easy if it stays this tense.

“Emmy told me he’s excited for the holidays,” you decide to change the subject to the one thing that you know for sure will melt Elvis icy demeanor. “Maybe Vernon can dress up as Santa again. He’d loved that.”

Your eyes wander to pictures hanging in the living room. One of Elvis and you on your wedding day, another of you both at the hospital the day Emerson was born, and the third being one at Christmas with the whole gang near the Christmas tree.

He still doesn’t respond.

“I need a drink,” you get up from the table, and go into the living room to the bar cart.

One thing Elvis did right was keeping expensive booze in the house, even if he wasn’t the one drinking it. You pour yourself a glass of whiskey. Elvis surprises you by getting up from the table as well, and going to the bar cart. Elvis doesn’t drink; hell, you don’t really drink. What divorce does you guess.

He sits down next you on the couch with a grunt, glass of whiskey in hand and obnoxious glasses finally off. You take a good look at his face. He looks exhausted. He always looks exhausted these days. You know you can’t bring it up without a fight breaking out. It’s one of things that led to the demise of your relationship; you couldn’t sit around and watch your husband waste away. He’d throw back in your face if he didn’t work, how would he pay for ‘all the expensive shit that keeps you around’. It hurt, the thought of him thinking you stay for the money; even if he said while strung out on pills.

“Billy got a new girl,” he says it so casually like he hadn’t been basically ignoring you since you walked through the door.

You know Elvis, he rarely apologizes. His way of apologizing was giving you time and attention. He has a way of making you forget why were upset; the special attention Elvis gives can be addicting. He knows that, and it’s why an “I’m sorry” rarely leaves his lips. A simple sorry can make a world of difference. But he isn’t ignoring you, so as always you indulge him.

“What happened to Georgia,” you recollect on the red head Billy introduced to you. “I thought she was ‘the one’.”

Elvis snorts, and drowns the rest of his drink.

“You know how Billy is. ‘The One’ pops up every six to eight months,” he looks at you with a wiry grin. “He met this one at a strip club back in Vegas.”

Your brows shoot up to your hairline. He gets up again for another drink.

“Ok, well now you have to tell me how that happened,” you perk up a bit. Another thing you know about Elvis is that he’s a huge gossip, on top of not being able to keep a secret to have his life.

“It started on Jerry’s birthday….”

You wipe the tears from your, not even caring about possibly smearing your mascara. You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this hard. It might be the fact that Elvis always made you laugh like you never have before…. Or it could be empty bottle of whiskey.

“I don’t believe you,” you say in between laughs, nudging his thigh with your foot. You think it was between drink two and three when you turned and put your legs over his thighs.

“He ran around naked. None of us thought he’d actually do it.”

His hand was rubbing one of your legs. It’s nice, laughing with him. Since you asked for a divorce, you were so worried that you ruined a relationship with the only man you’ve loved. Also worried about how this would affect Emerson. You think despite how rocky the process has been for the two of you, you’ve both made sure things stayed stable for Emerson.

“I was thinking for the holidays, maybe you and Emmy can stay here,” he says softly. Your stomach sinks, he’s giving you the puppy dog eyes.

“I think it might be best for just Emmy to stay if he wants to,” you look down at your hands, not wanting to see his expression. “Dr. Wilson said it’s important to set clear boundaries so he doesn’t get confused.”

Dr. Wilson was the family therapist you made Elvis see. He wasn’t super happy about it but eventually gave in. You needed someone to help facilitate this transition. Emerson is just getting used to the apartment you have in Memphis; just getting used to a new lifestyle. You have a feeling moving right back in for December would only complicate things.

“I miss having my family around,” he blurts out truthfully. “I miss you being around.”

You know he does. He says it, Vernon says it, all the guys say it. But sometimes wanting something isn’t enough. You miss him too, but he’s also the only thing you’ve known. You don’t know who you are as a person outside of being Elvis Presley’s girl and the mother of his child.

“Elvis, you know I want nothing more to be family but-“

“But what,” he brows furrow. “I’m doing the therapy, I let you move out, you’re going back to work. What more do I need to do?”

“Not screwing anything with legs might be nice,” you mutter and he scoffs.

You knew about the women. You remember how your heart skipped a beat when you surprised him on the road, and found a lipstick stain on one of his shirts. There was brief period when you ignored it. Convincing yourself that if it was a one time thing you could forgive him. As time went on and he got sloppier, it became less about the actual act and more about the boldness and disrespect of it. Do he really think you were that stupid?

The thing that gets you is if the roles were reversed, he would’ve reamed you out and made you suffer from moment he suspected something.

“I told you they didn’t mean anything.”

You roll your eyes. He seriously thinks that because it was just fun sex to him that it means you shouldn’t be hurt by it. That if he comes home to you, it negates the pain.

“We need to sign the papers,” you try to stand up. Elvis and you are not ready to be friends. You don’t know why you even thought you would be.

“You’re gonna come back,” he says with a certain tone, hand creeping up your thigh. “In a couple of years you’re gonna understand that it’s just you and me baby.”

Maybe he’s right. There’s a part of you that worries that Elvis has ruined you for other men. That this was the one great love affair you get allotted in life, and you’re gonna be searching for something you had right in front of you. But you need to do this. Give yourself a chance to relearn how to be happy without being in the daunting orbit of Elvis Presley. You reach over and grab the hand that was on your leg.

“You want to know what more you can do? Let me go, and let me come back on my own.”

He looks at you with watery eyes, and nods softly. You two sit in silence for a moment before both getting up hand in hand, going back to the dining table. Letting out a sigh you look at the papers, with a shaky you sign your name in the paper. You look over to Elvis as he stares at the papers. He tugs on lip his fingers before nodding his head, and quickly signing his part.

You look around again at the house. The house filled with so many memories, bad and good. You two are gonna be alright. You’ll make sure of it.

[ilyasorokinn]

(day two) lights out , joel farabee

note, this fic is part of my 14 days of christmas. check out this masterlist if you're interested. none of these fics in this series are connected, they are all standalone. pair, joel farabee x reader summary, while y/n and joel are decorating their home for christmas, the power goes out, leaving them both in the dark. warnings, blackouts, the dark (is that a warning?) word count, 1046 words

(gif not mine)

"What the heck is this? Why do we have this?" Joel asked, pulling out a red mailbox from your boxes of Christmas decorations.

"It's a mailbox." You answered.

"It says 'Letters for Santa'. We don't have any kids." He pointed out, setting the mailbox on the coffee table.

"Yes, we do." You pointed over to your two dogs, who were sleeping soundly by the door to your backyard.

"Okay, we don't have any kids who can write what they want for Christmas." He rephrased.

"But it's so cute. It would look so good in our entryway." You pouted.

He shook his head, "Geez, where did you get all this stuff?" He asked, digging through another box of decorations.

"It's a collection. I started it in college. I would get one new decoration every year." You explained.

"This seems like a lot more than just once a year." He pulled out a family of stuffed fake deers that went on the mantle.

"Yeah, then I met you, and we got married so I used your money to enable my spending." You shrugged.

"So, that's it, huh? You're just with me for my money." He joked, a smile on his face.

"Of course." You smiled. He chuckled, shaking his head again but hung the stockings on the stocking holders that hung over the fireplace, "So, you have your Christmas list put together?" You asked.

"No," Joel answered, turning around to face you.

"Why not? We go through this every year."

"Because whatever you get me is fine."

"That's the vaguest answer ever. You suck." You tossed a pillow at him.

"Hey, you asked." He laughed.

"But why can't you be specific? Like, you want a blender or a new watch. Actually, don't say that. I got you a watch for your birthday."

"I wasn't going to say a watch. I don't need anything. I have everything I could ever want. A great house, two great dogs, and an even more amazing wife. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Oh, don't get sappy on me now, Bee." You laughed.

"I'm being serious." He held up his hands in surrender, "What do you want for Christmas?"

"I'm glad you asked." You pulled a piece of paper out of your pocket.

"Do you just carry that around?"

"Yes, I do. I've been waiting for you to ask." You cleared your throat, then proceeded to read off the items on your list.

"Wow, you've really thought this through." He laughed, "I guess I gotta step up my game and create a list."

"Yeah, you do." You nodded with a smile.

You continued to set things up around your house. Lights, little trees, little mini trinkets, etc. It went on for about an hour when the lights started to flicker.

"Um..."

"I'm gonna grab some flashlights," Joel announced, making his way into the garage.

"I'll grab candles."

"Ooh, are you getting the good-smelling ones?" Joel popped his head through the door.

You laughed, "Yes, I'm grabbing the good-smelling ones."

Right as you and Joel met back up in the living room, the lights were officially out, "Well, looks like we'll have to put all this on hold." Joel seemed all too eager to stop.

"I mean, we could keep going, but we're not going to because you seem a little too excited that the power went out." You laughed.

"I mean, I was gonna outright say it." He joked. You rolled your eyes, playfully punching his shoulder, "I'm kidding." He laughed.

"All right, well now what're we gonna do?" You asked, blowing out the match after lighting all the candles.

"We can take a nap," Joel suggested with a yawn.

"No, now I'm full of energy. We can rest later." You pulled his arm so he was standing up. Once he was up, you let go and ran over to your record player.

Joel found it a bit unpractical since you had speakers all around the house, but the crackling sound record players made were your favorite sound. You pulled out a record and the second Joel heard the song, he knew what you were doing.

"I see you you're doing." He laughed.

"What am I doing?" You asked, walking back over to him, lacing one of your hands through his while the other slid around his shoulders.

"This is our song." He smiled, wrapping his empty arm around your waist.

"Yeah, it is." You smiled, swaying with him.

"You knew what you were doing." He smirked.

"Maybe I did." You shrugged innocently as The Righteous Brothers' Unchained Melody floated across the walls of your living room.

He spun you around, the same way he had when you were dancing to this song at your wedding, "You know, you look beautiful all the time, but that day..." He let out a breath, "You were somehow even more beautiful than ever." He looked down.

"You looked really good, Bee. I mean, you always look good, but you looked very spiffy in your suit. and the dogs." You looked over to your dogs who were still sound asleep, "They looked very nice in their ties as well."

"They did." Joel smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

You two continued to sway to the music. Joel spun you around a few times, causing you to laugh and hold onto him tighter, even though he promised he'd never let go.

A few hours later you filled up on gross canned soup and decided to take a nap, the music still playing from the record player and Joel's heart beating in your ear.

Joel woke up sometime later and found that the lights were back on. The lights from the Christmas tree were on and blaring in his face. He groaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

Once his vision cleared, he looked down to find you still peacefully sleeping. He pressed a kiss to your head and gently moved you so he could get off the couch.

He then, as gently as possible, picked you up off the couch to carry you up to your bedroom. The dogs followed after him, wanting to sleep with their mom.

"Good night, Mrs. Bee." He whispered, pressing another kiss to your head, then heading back to clean up the downstairs area.

-

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taylor's 14 days of christmas masterlist!

[nerdzzone]

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: Again, just a reminder that all the information I have about covid restrictions in Massachusetts is from google, not first hand experience, so if something seems wrong please just go with it.

Part Three

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Part Four

If avoiding difficult conversations was an Olympic sport then it's pretty safe to say that I would have earned myself a gold medal by the end of the following week. It wasn't all that hard to do though as the exhaustion from parenting during a pandemic was hitting us both. Especially because the weather for the first couple of weeks of April was abysmal. It was cold, stormy and raining almost every day and we were all getting quite stir crazy from being inside constantly - especially our lively and spirited child.

So, it was a massive relief when the sun finally came out.

It was also a relief that it lined up with Grayson's third birthday.

He was going to have a very different birthday than previous years - as most people would over the next few months - but we wanted him to have fun and he was quickly tiring of all the indoor activities that we could come up with.

We set the living room up the night before after he'd gone to bed, putting up a birthday banner with several clusters of balloons, and there was quite the mountain of presents in the corner as most of our family members had sent their gifts in advance. I had hoped to wake up before him, but when I woke up to excited cheers and Dodger barking from downstairs, I knew I was too late. A quick glance at my phone told me that it was only six thirty, but clearly the excitement had gotten him up earlier than normal.

"Whoa, Dodger, Grayson, shhhh," I heard Chris warn the pair of them, his voice still raspy from sleep. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

I smiled and quickly climbed out of bed. Chris wouldn't let him open any presents without me, I knew that, but I didn't want to keep him waiting for too long.

When I got downstairs, a very excited Grayson was bouncing on the couch as Chris sat next to him, watching him closely with a smile on his face.

"Happy birthday!" I cheered, catching his attention.

He sprang off the couch and bolted towards me.

"Thanks, Mama," He shouted, throwing his arms around my legs and looking up at me. "I'm three!"

"You are!" I smiled as I knelt down in front of him and pulled him into a hug. "You're such a big boy now."

He let me squeeze him for another moment or two before wiggling free.

"Can I open presents?"

Chris laughed at his clear priorities, shaking his head as I stood up.

"Let's just wait for Uncle Scott," he suggested before glancing up at me. "He's putting the coffee on."

"Very smart," I nodded. "I think we're all going to need plenty of that today."

Grayson proved my point by grabbing at his balloons and waving them frantically, setting Dodger off barking again.

"Dodge!" Chris scolded. "It's just a balloon, buddy. Chill."

The poor overwhelmed dog hung his head and came over to me for some sympathy. I happily obliged, cooing some comforting words and rubbing his back.

"Gray, leave the balloons, okay?" I requested. "I don't think Dodger likes them."

Grayson frowned, but instantly let go of the balloon in his hand.

"Sorry, Dodger."

"It sounds like we have quite the party in here already," Scott commented as he sauntered into the room. "Shall we see what's in some of these boxes?"

"Yes! Yes!" Grayson cheered, running over to the presents. "What first?"

"Whatever you want," I told him, smiling as I went to sit on the couch next to Chris. "Do you need some help?"

"No, I can do it!" He insisted, making a bee line for the biggest box and quickly ripping the paper off.

We watched as he opened gift after gift, an ear to ear grin on his face the whole time. Just as he was at Christmas, he was incredibly grateful for every present from the Paw Patrol Lookout Tower that was almost as tall as he was to the dinosaur books that were more educational than flashy and fun.

But there was one gift at the bottom of the pile that Chris wasn't particularly impressed by. The one that my brother had sent.

Grayson opened it, pulling out a t-shirt first.

"What does it say?" He asked, holding up the shirt towards us.

Chris' jaw dropped as I stifled my giggles and Scott burst out laughing.

"It says 'Team Iron Man'," I read. "Remember how Uncle Rob was in a movie with Daddy where they had a big fight? Iron Man was Uncle Rob's character and I think Uncle Jack wants you to be on that team."

"Oh," Grayson smiled. "Okay!"

"Okay?!" Chris protested. "You don't want to be on my team?"

Grayson shrugged as he pulled something else out of the box from my brother.

"Look!" He shouted, his excitement clear as he held up a very fancy electronic Iron Man helmet. "I love it!"

I wasn't even sure that he knew what it was as he hadn't seen any of the movies yet, but his enthusiasm compared to Chris' displeasure was killing Scott and I.

"Oh, it's such a shame that your brother wasted his money," Chris said, his words dripping with sarcasm as he had a forced look of pity on his face. "Those things are expensive and Grayson is never going to wear it."

"I'll wear it!"

Grayson's insistence was followed by him putting the helmet on his head and another howl of laughter came from Scott as a look of betrayal crossed Chris' face.

"Your brother is a jerk."

His words were quiet so Grayson wouldn't hear and I smiled.

"What can I say?" I shrugged. "We're an Iron Man family..."

Chris shot me a glare, but turned his attention back to Gray.

"Well, if you don't want to be on my team then I guess I'll just have to find someone else to have the last present that I got for you..."

Chris was teasing, but Grayson whipped off the helmet faster than we could blink. He looked around, a puzzled expression on his face when he couldn't see anymore boxes on the floor and I shared his confusion as I wasn't aware of anymore gifts either. But the Evans brothers exchanged a knowing glance and I knew they were up to something.

"Maybe Miles would like it," Scott suggested. "He loves Captain America."

"Me too!" Grayson insisted, tossing the helmet aside as if it hadn't been his new prized possession moments ago. "He's my favourite!"

"Oh, is he now?" Chris laughed. "Doesn't take much to make you change your mind, does it?"

Grayson shook his head, oblivious to the fact that he was being teased, but Chris didn't torture him for too long.

"Alright, do you want to see what it is?"

"Yes, I do!"

Grayson leapt up, bouncing up and down with excitement, making Chris laugh as he stood up from the couch.

"C'mon then," he told Grayson, nodding his head towards the door. "It's this way."

Grayson scurried after his dad and I followed, my own curiosity piqued as well.

"What is it?" I asked Scott, but he just shot me a smirk.

"You'll see in a second."

I narrowed my eyes at his secrets and paused at the front door where Chris was waiting for us, his hand on the door knob as Grayson practically vibrated with excitement.

"Okay, close your eyes," Chris instructed. "No peeking!"

"I won't, I won't!"

Grayson covered his eyes as an extra assurance and Chris' grin widened even more as he swung open the door. I put my hands on Grayson's shoulders and guided him through it, seeing a shiny blue bike with a big bow on the handlebars. I felt a flash of worry at all the potential ways for Grayson to get hurt riding it, but there was no time to dwell on that as Chris told him to open his eyes and he gasped with excitement.

"A bike!" He squealed with joy, leaping off the doorstep and running towards it.

He circled it for a moment as if he was really trying to take it all in while I looked up at Chris.

"There better be a helmet with this present," I warned him. "I'm already imagining broken bones and missing teeth."

"He'll be fine," Chris assured me with a chuckle. "It has training wheels, but of course I got him a helmet."

I opened my mouth, ready to share some more potential disasters that could come from this - because even with training wheels he could still fall off or lose control and crash into a tree - but Grayson cut me off.

"Help me, Daddy! Help me!"

He was trying to climb onto the seat, but as I took in the sight of him barefoot in his pyjamas standing in the driveway, I stopped Chris as he moved towards him.

"Wait, why don't we have breakfast first?" I suggested. "We have all day to play on your bike, but you're not dressed or even wearing shoes..."

Grayson's face fell and I felt bad being the mean parent, but Chris nodded in agreement.

"Your Ma's right, Gray," he told him. "Let's go get ready and then we can come right back outside, okay?"

Grayson looked sulky, but reluctantly agreed as he walked back over to us.

"Hey now," Scott said, catching his attention. "No pouting on your birthday! We've got some chocolate chip pancakes to make! Unless that sad face means you don't want them anymore?"

His previous smile slid instantly back onto his face at the promise of such a sugary breakfast and the pep returned to his step as he grabbed Scott's hand before dragging him into the house.

-

I had no evidence to prove my theory, but by the time breakfast was over, I was almost certain that it would have been more relaxing to be in the middle of a hurricane. There was pancake batter all over the room and we practically had to pin Grayson to his chair to stop him from sprinting around the room with food in his mouth. It was a miracle that he got through the meal without choking.

It was impossible to be mad though when he was having such a good time. He'd had so much to adjust to lately, seeing him happy on his birthday was all that I wanted and I was willing to put up with a little more chaos than normal if it made that happen. Within reason, of course. I did stop him when he suggested that we put the entire bag of chocolate chips in the pancake batter and I did make him help me clean them up when he dumped them on the floor in protest of my ridiculous restrictions.

Once the breakfast circus was over, Chris whisked him off to get him ready to play outside while I helped Scott clean up the kitchen before going upstairs to shower and get ready myself.

When I came back down almost an hour later, I felt considerably less frazzled, but the sound of excited squeals and giggles echoing from outside told me the energy levels hadn't died down much. It really was a relief that he was having such a nice day though so I braced myself for more chaos and headed out to find them.

The sight that greeted me melted my heart completely.

Chris was running backwards across the driveway as Grayson rode towards him. He shouted encouragement the entire time, reminding him to keep pedaling and to look where he was going and cheering as Grayson rode past him before turning around and circling back.

"Look, Mama!" He shouted to me as he spotted me by the door. "I'm doing it!"

"You are, baby!" I smiled. "Good job!"

I sat on the doorstep and watched him ride in circles, proud of how fast he'd figured it out, but after a few moments, my attention turned to Chris.

There were few times since I'd known him when I'd seen him look as happy as he did in that moment. When Grayson was born, when he took his first steps and when he first said 'Dada' were probably the only comparable moments I could think of. He looked absolutely gleeful as he chased after Grayson, laughing as he passed him before dodging a different way and waiting for Gray to catch up before bolting off again. The sound of their giggles and shouts filled my heart so much that it genuinely felt like it was about to burst out of my chest and a feeling of contentedness hit me so hard that it almost knocked over.

It was a feeling that told me that they were all I ever needed. Those two boys, making each other dizzy as they ran in circles. Their happiness and love was all I could ever hope to have and moments like these were all I ever wanted to see. I wanted us to spend every weekend soaking in this kind of joy. I didn't want to fight and argue and transport Grayson back and forth every other week. I wanted to give Grayson what he deserved, I wanted us to be a family.

But as fast as that clarity hit me, the knots in my stomach were there to remind me that it wasn't just about what I wanted. It wasn't about what would bring us the most moments of delight, it was about what would provide Grayson with the most stability and being a family might do more harm to that goal than good.

It was a constant battle between my heart and my head, but I was starting to realize that my head was losing. I was clinging to my resistance with all I had, but it was slipping away. I knew I needed to talk to Chris, to sort out the fog in my brain, but for the time being, I pushed it out of my mind. This was Grayson's day and we didn't have time for anymore heart-wrenching conversations.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as Scott appeared from the side of the house on roller blades and the unexpected sight pulled a laugh from my lips as he sailed past Chris and Grayson and headed down the driveway.

"Gray, follow me!"

Gray nodded, frantically pedaling to catch up with his uncle as they sped off down the long drive. Chris watched them for a minute before jogging over to me.

"He got it so fast," he puffed as he fought to catch his breath. "He's a natural."

"The training wheels help," I pointed out, shielding my eyes from the sun as I looked up at him. "But it's fine because he'll be keeping those on until he's at least eighteen."

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

"No way," he smirked. "We'll have them off by next week."

"Not a chance. I need at least six months to get used to that idea."

"How about we meet in the middle and aim for three?"

"Hmm, maybe," I bit back a smile. "We'll have to see how many injuries he gets with the training wheels on first."

"He'll be fine. He's a champ," Chris grinned proudly. "We've got a pretty great kid."

"We do," I patted the step next to me as I made room for Chris to sit down. "I can't believe he's already three."

Chris accepted my silent invitation and sat down next to me.

"I know," he sighed. "It feels like just yesterday that he was born..."

"He was so tiny," I reminisced. "And you had those huge Captain America muscles."

Chris laughed as he nodded at the memory.

"I was so scared to hold him in case I accidentally crushed him."

"I was so scared of everything," I admitted. "It wasn't until he was actually born that it really hit me that we were completely responsible for his well-being and keeping him alive."

"We've done well with that though!"

"We have," I agreed with a smile. "He's alive and thriving."

"We make a good team."

He flashed me a warm smile that made my heart beat stutter and it almost stopped completely when he stretched out a hand and placed it on mine. His touch was gentle and the warmth of his skin flooded through me even more than the sun streaming down on us. It was a simple gesture, but it eased the heaviness that had been hovering between us lately and I was grateful. I carefully flipped my hand over so our palms pressed together and let our fingers interlace. His smile widened as he looked back out at the driveway, his eyes settling on Grayson in the distance who was laughing at something Scott said.

"Thank you," Chris sighed, his voice quiet and filled with genuine appreciation. "I don't think I've ever said it, but thank you for making me a dad."

His words almost brought tears to my eyes, but I shook my head.

"Chris, you don't need to than-"

"I do," he insisted, cutting me off. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me and he wouldn't be here without you."

"I could say the same," I pointed out, trying to ignore the way his thumb was stroking the back of my hand. "He gets most of his good traits from you too. His kind heart, his sensitive little soul, his loyalty."

"His infuriating stubbornness."

"He gets that from both of us," I smiled. "He didn't stand a chance with that one."

"Well, I hope he gets some of your selflessness," Chris informed me, glancing over and looking a tad sheepish. "Because, as much as I disagree with it and I wish you'd be a little selfish, I get that you're trying to look out for him."

I felt my palms start to sweat and I wondered if he could feel it. I resisted the urge to snatch my hand away from his, trying to play it cooler than I felt. He was watching me closely as I mulled over his words until I found the strength to speak.

"I'm not so sure that it's just him that I'm trying to look out for," I admitted, exhaling a breath that I didn't realize I was holding.  "I do think we have more to talk about, Chris, but I don't think this is the right time."

"You're right," he nodded. "I just felt like I owed you an apology after the other night. I let my feelings get the best of me and I came across a little harsh."

I was about to reassure him that he hadn't when the sound of honking interrupted our conversation. Our attention was pulled to the end of the driveway where two cars - belonging to Chris' mom and his sister - were pulling in as Scott moved Grayson and Dodger off to the side to let them past.

"Did you know they were coming?" I asked, surprised by the little motorcade.

"Nah, I had no idea," Chris shrugged. "We'll stay outside though, keep our distance."

I wasn't worried about that really, I knew all of Chris' family were staying very isolated and being smart about staying safe and we were technically allowed to have outdoor gatherings of up to ten people anyway with the current rules in place. I was surprised to see them though as we'd warned Grayson that he would only get to see most of his family over FaceTime. His excitement at that being untrue was clear as he frantically pedaled back up the driveway to greet his guests.

"Mama! Daddy! Look!"

I let Chris' hand fall away from mine as we stood, smiling at Grayson's excitement as everyone started getting out of their cars. They burst into a rousing chorus of 'Happy Birthday' making Gray's grin grow even more.

"Happy birthday, Grayson!" Lisa beamed as Grayson ran towards her full speed. He threw his arms around her legs before we could even remind him to keep his distance, but Lisa seemed unbothered by it. "Have you had a good day so far?"

"Yes!" Gray smiled up at her. "I got a bike!"

"I saw that!" Lisa matched his enthusiasm. "You're a lucky boy!"

Grayson shot her another smile before turning his attention to his cousins.

"Wanna try?"

His older cousins were probably too big, but Stella's hand shot up first and beat them to it anyway.

"That's really nice of you to share," I called over to Grayson. "But share your helmet too, okay?"

He nodded and struggled with the clip for a few minutes before Lisa helped him take it off and placed it on her granddaughter's head.

Once they were all happy, chasing Stella and Dodger around the drive way, the adults moved over towards us. Lisa was the first to speak, a guilty look on her face.

"I hope you don't mind us just showing up like this, but we couldn't stay away on his birthday..."

"It's great!" Chris assured her. "Don't worry about it."

"And Grayson seems thrilled," I added. "It's nice for him to have other kids to run around with for a bit."

We all turned to watch them as they played until Carly let out a laugh.

"Are Grayson's shoes on the wrong feet?"

I hadn't even noticed, but I laughed as well when I realized that she was right.

"Some days just getting him in shoes at all is a victory," Chris defended himself. "And today was one of those days."

"He's like the energizer bunny this morning," Scott joked. "I can't imagine what he'll be like after we get some cake into him."

"Just think how well he'll sleep tonight," Carly pointed out. "He has to crash eventually."

"I hope so," Chris smiled. "He had me up at six o'clock this morning, I need an early night."

That earned a laugh from the group as his siblings teased him about being such an old man, but I felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing that he'd been up early with Grayson a lot lately. Maybe it was because we were at his house so it was what Gray was used to, but Chris was definitely the favourite for the early morning wake up call.

We stood in our little circle for a while, just catching up as we watched the kids, all of us enjoying conversation with someone other than the people we were locked up with twenty-four hours a day. It was nice for me to have some female company as well even though Lisa was very pleased to hear that her boys were pulling their weight around the house and not just treating me like some kind of live-in maid.

It didn't take long for the kids to get tired of sharing the bike, especially the older boys who were too big for it anyway, and soon they were swarming around us demanding that we all play a game. After being cooped up for so long, it didn't seem like a bad idea to get us all moving around a little so we agreed and set about the daunting task of finding something everyone was willing to play.

Eventually, we settled on capture the flag - girls against boys. Lisa decided she'd make a better referee than a player so the boys team had one extra member, but they had three children to our one so it hardly seemed like the extra person would cause any unbalance. 

The rules of the game were simple: each team had three flags in our 'end zone' at opposite ends of the large grassy part of Chris' yard and the other team had to try to steal those flags. We had to grab it and run it all the way back to our own end zone to score a point, but once it was safely 'captured' it couldn't be stolen back. If someone managed to snatch a flag, but was tagged on their way back to their end zone then they had to give the flag back.

Lisa was very firm in reminding her children that tackling was not allowed as the Evans siblings were fiercely competitive and it had apparently led to trouble over the years. Once the rules were all set, we took our places and started the game.

The teams were fairly evenly matched. The boys had more strength, but we had more agility and were much better at communicating and working together which led to us easily scoring the first point. While Stella distracted Scott, Carly snuck past him to snatch the flag and she tossed it to Shanna who faked a pass to Stella before throwing it to me to get it to the safe zone. It was a beautifully executed play that showed the boys we weren't messing around.

"Oh, it's on now," Chris called out as he sprinted past me.

Shanna bolted after him, but he managed to grab the flag and throw it to Ethan before she caught up. With all the other boys guarding him, he made it all the way back to their end zone without getting tagged.

"I think having a super soldier on your team is an unfair advantage ," Carly huffed, but Chris shook his head with a smirk.

"Nah, because we have Scott too so it balances out."

"Hey!" Scott protested. "I'll switch teams if you're going to be rude!"

Stella jumped for joy at that idea, pleading with him to come onto our side, but the rest of the boys voiced their protests and he decided that, as long as there was no more hurtful comments, he would stick to his team for now. I used their bickering as a distraction though as I snuck closer towards their unguarded flags. I managed to grab one before Scott noticed and called out a warning to the rest of his team, but when I took off running and Grayson charged towards me, I didn't have the heart to out run him on his special day. I slowed down enough that he wouldn't realize I was letting him win and groaned dramatically as he tagged me, making me give up the flag.

"I did it!" He cheered. "Daddy! Did you see? I did it!"

Stella had a disappointed scowl on her face, but everyone else was understanding as they watched Chris scoop him up onto his shoulders, chanting his name as if he'd just won the World Cup while he carried him back to replace the flag.

Their celebration was short-lived though as we managed to steal the flag again almost as soon as Chris and Grayson were far enough away from it. After another perfectly executed play, the score was sitting at 2-1 for us. The pressure was on after that as we only needed one more point to win, it ramped up the competitive spirit.

We were off to a great start in the next round. Shanna got the flag quickly, but Scott had her cornered almost immediately so she tossed it to me. I got about ten steps before Chris was on my heels and I was forced to throw it over to Carly. Chris turned and went to chase after her instead and without even thinking, I leapt on his back to stop him.

"Hey!" He protested, slowing to a stop despite how he was clearly unaffected by my weight. "Is anyone seeing this? This has got to be a foul! She tackled me!"

"I did not tackle you!" I insisted, clinging to his shoulders with my legs wrapped around his waist. "If it was a tackle, you'd be on the ground."

Chris wiggled around, trying to throw me off his back as Carly sauntered into our end zone with the flag.

"The only reason I'm not on the ground is because you're too weak," Chris argued before shouting to his mom. "That doesn't count!

"No, Mama," Grayson joined in, running over to us looking very disapproving. "No cheating!"

I laughed, but slid down from Chris' back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" I held my hands up as I apologized. "I can't outrun Captain America, I had no choice!"

"Well, now you lost the point," Chris teased me, shoving me playfully and making me stumble a step away from him. "So, lets keep it fair and stop trying to cheat."

I swatted back at him as I stuck out my tongue while Lisa made the official call that the point didn't count and Scott took the recently captured flag back to the boy's end zone.

Chris had a new twinkle in his eye as the next round started. He hadn't let me get very far away from him and I quickly realized that I'd made a mistake by antagonizing him. I would be useless to my team if he was on my tail the whole time, but he was a tank and incredibly fast so getting away from him was next to impossible. I watched helplessly as Scott and Miles easily took our flag and dashed it back to their end zone to tie the score.

"Chris!" I whined as I tried to get around him like I was a cornered puppy, trying not to get caught. "Get away from me, you big oaf!"

"Oh, wow," Chris chuckled. "Let's not start calling names and being mean."

I tried to dart past him again, but groaned as he blocked my path.

"You're infuriating!"

"It's all part of the game."

The smirk on Chris' face had my competitive side firing up as I could see behind him that Miles had snatched our last flag. Stella was hot on his heels though, so he had no choice, but to pass to Grayson who was coming our way. Was I going to stop my three year old son from scoring the game winning point on his birthday? Probably not. But I had to at least make my attempt genuine so I came up with a plan.

"Is that..." I squinted off into the distance on the other side of the yard. "Is that Dodger chasing a cat?"

My Oscar worthy performance had Chris spinning around to check out what I saw and it gave me enough time to bolt away towards Grayson who wasn't far away from winning the game for his team. I made it an impressive five steps before Chris figured out what I'd done and came after me. Grayson saw what was happening and dodged to the left so I followed, but my change of direction gave Chris an opportunity. The next thing I knew, I felt a crash against my hips before I was lifted from the ground and found myself dangling over Chris' shoulder.

I let out a squeal of surprise as I kicked my legs, trying to get down, but Chris had a tight grip on me and there was no getting away. The ease with which he threw me around wasn't at all distracting and there wasn't a single part of me that was revelling in his strength. Not at all.

"This is absolutely a tackle!" I protested, focusing my mind back onto my predicament. "Put me down!"

"If this was a tackle, you'd be on the ground," he mocked me. "This is payback."

I had a nice view, my head only inches above 'America's ass' so, swept up in the moment of playfulness between us, I reached down and gave it a smack. He yelped and jumped, shaking me as he did.

"Chris! Put me down!"

My demands were weakened by the giggles that I couldn't hold back, but thankfully Scott stepped in to help me regain some dignity.

"Alright, you two," he called over. "Can we get back to the game now or would you like us all to give you some time alone?"

A blush covered my cheeks as I remembered that his entire family was around us and was relieved when he lowered me to the ground.

"Games over," Chris called back. "Grayson scored!"

Grayson jumped up and down happily, but Stella had a scowl on her face.

"Nuh uh! When Whitney tackled you, it didn't count!" She pointed out. "Grayson's point doesn't count too!"

The joy on Grayson's face fell into a look of anger as he stomped his foot at his cousin’s claim.

"It does!" He insisted. "I did it!"

"Now look what you've done," I playfully scolded Chris quietly before shouting to the rest of the group. "I think we're going to have to let them have the point, ladies. I wouldn't have been able to catch up to Grayson even if Chris didn't cheat..."

Stella's jaw dropped in clear shock that I hadn't supported her protests, but to stop the war before it could start, Chris chimed in.

"Grayson didn't need my help to score that point, I shouldn't have interfered," he started. "But why don't we call it a game and go have some cake?!"

The promise of sugar seemed to quash any animosity between the teams as all the kids let out a shriek of approval at that suggestion and took off running back to the house.

"Oh, yes," Carly sighed. "Because what my children clearly need right now is more energy..."

"It's Gray's birthday," Chris shrugged with a smile as we all followed the children at a much more reasonable pace. "We have to have cake!"

"And if it wasn't his birthday then I wouldn't have let you win."

My taunting earned a bark of laughter from Chris.

"Let us win? Yeah, sure, okay. You just keep telling yourself that you're faster and stronger than me," he teased. "Whatever makes you feel better."

I shoved him, but he was braced for it and I ended up more affected by the impact than him which proved his point, putting a smirk on his face.

"Asshole," I muttered as I shook my head, but I couldn't hold back a smile at how nice our affectionate teasing felt.

-

By the end of the day, we were all exhausted. It had been a fun and very special day for Grayson so we were thrilled for him, but exhausted nonetheless. Gray fought his bedtime with all the will power he had, eager for the day to go on just a little bit longer, but we won out in the end and he made it to bed on time. Scott had gone to his own room while we were fighting with him and Chris and I parted ways shortly after to get some much needed quiet time of our own.

I found myself distracted though, when I was finally alone, as the importance of the day had me feeling sentimental. Watching Grayson grow up and hit these milestones was a joy, but it left me feeling a bit reminiscent of the years gone by. Years when he was even smaller than he was now, just starting to figure out the world and how to speak, walk and be a part of it. The time was really flying by and as I began to scroll through old videos of his first year of life, the nostalgia was almost too much to bear.

Eventually, I stumbled on a video that had distinct parallels of today.

It was a video of Grayson's first birthday when we'd given him his own little cake and let him go to town on it. Of course, as many babies do, he'd stared at it for a moment before smashing his face directly into it. It was adorable and tugged on my heart strings considering how comparatively neat his cake consumption was earlier that day. He'd grown so much in such a short time and I felt compelled to share my discovery with Chris so I dragged myself out of bed and crept down to his room.

There was a fluttering of nerves in my stomach as I knocked on his bedroom door, the feeling only growing as he called out an invitation to come inside. I did as he'd asked and let myself in, finding him leaning back against the headboard of his bed - wearing nothing but his pajama pants - with his own phone in his hand.

"Hey," he smiled. "What's up?"

"I found a video," I told him, standing awkwardly near the foot of his bed. "I was feeling a little sad about how fast Gray is growing up so I was looking back, watching old videos and I found one that I thought you might like to see."

Chris’ smile widened and he eagerly patted the bed next to him, encouraging me to sit. I took him up on his offer and settled in as I unlocked my phone and started the video.

"He was so little..."

Chris' observation came as the camera settled on Gray where he sat in his high chair. Chris was right next to him, a grin on his face as he chatted happily to our son despite the nonsense babble that he got in response. I appeared on the screen after a few moments, carrying a tiny cake as everyone started to sing Happy Birthday. Grayson had a look of confusion on his face as he looked around at the crowd, but his eyes widened when the cake was placed in front of him.

"Go on, Gray," I prompted once the singing had stopped. "You can taste it."

He needed no more encouragement and simply face planted right into it, popping up a moment later with blue icing from the tops of his eyebrows to the bottom of his chin. He had a huge, cheeky grin on his face as he looked at us and, just as he did in the video, Chris laughed next to me.

"Oh, man, it kills you, doesn't it?" He questioned before clarifying. "How cute he is."

I hadn't realized that Chris' arm had found its way behind me when he leaned in to watch until I felt his breath on my hair as he spoke and I couldn't resist leaning back, tucking myself under his shoulder. The whole day, the knowledge that my baby was growing up, had me needing some comfort. It was exciting, to see him learn and shift from a baby to a little person, but at the same time, I felt the overwhelming urge for time to stop.

"It does," I agreed, letting my phone fall to the bed beside me. "I can't believe how much he's changed since then."

"In some ways," Chris agreed, looking down at me with a smirk. "In others, he's still that goofy, reckless baby."

"If he's anything like you, he'll probably never grow out of being goofy and reckless."

I felt Chris' shoulders shake as he chuckled at my teasing and I was reminded of the last time we'd been cuddled up, in a similar position to this, in his bed. I felt a flood of warmth run through my body at the memory as I was suddenly aware of how close we were, aware of how good he smelt and how strong his hard muscled arm felt as I leaned against it.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I meant it as one," I assured him. "I like that you're goofy. Your recklessness used to give me anxiety sometimes, when you'd always insist that you just had to do your own stunts on Captain America as if you really thought you were a super soldier, but I like that you're willing to take risks."

"Awe, gee, Whitney," he teased, squeezing me closer against him. "It was nice of you to worry about me."

"Of course I worried," I rolled my eyes. "Your muscles are bigger than your brain sometimes."

"Not anymore..." Chris held up the arm that wasn't currently around me and flexed his muscles, showing off a bicep that was still much larger than most even if it wasn't quite up to the Avengers standard. "I'm out of shape."

Against my own best interest, I turned slightly, letting my hand drift up towards his arm as my head fell against his chest. I traced over the bulging muscle and watched as tiny goosebumps rose up on his skin at the sensation. Skin that felt so soft under my touch and I felt his breath shift as he clearly felt the mood between us change the same way that I did. I felt emboldened by how amorous our emotional day had left me as I let my head tip back to find him looking down at me with the same intensity he had a few months ago.

My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't help myself. Despite every alarm bell going off inside my brain, I stretched up just enough to press my lips against his. For a moment, he relaxed. His shoulders dropped as my fingers curled around the arm they were just stroking, but then suddenly his entire body tensed as if he'd been shocked by a bolt of electricity. He jerked away, sliding out from under me and off the bed before I could even realize what was happening.

"No," he said firmly, pointing his finger at me the same way he did to Dodger when he was being naughty. "No, no, we're not doing this again. Not until we talk about it what's going on here."

I felt the sting of rejection so harshly that it almost brought tears to my eyes, but I knew he was right.

"I'm sorry," I squeaked out, my cheeks burning. "You're right. I shouldn't have done that."

My voice was shaking as I scrambled to stand up, the stunned look on Chris' face only adding to my embarrassment. We stood there, staring at each other with the bed between us, but he didn't speak and after a few moments of silence, my shame was overwhelming, kicking my flight instincts into gear.

"I'll go," I mumbled. "Sorry again."

I didn't wait for a response before darting towards the door, but Chris' voice stopped me before I could make my escape.

"Whitney, stop." He didn't shout, but his tone was firm and demanding enough that I froze on the spot. "We need to talk about this. We can't keep going on with it hanging above our heads."

I turned to face him, discovering that he'd moved closer and was standing by the foot of the bed. He was still a few feet away from me, but close enough that it felt almost suffocating and I bit my lip as I stared at his feet, unable to look him in the eye.

"I don't know what to say..."

"I can take it," he insisted, a hint of resignation in voice as he continued. "You've had plenty of time to think it over since our last conversation and you said earlier today that we needed to talk. If you're gonna turn me down, put whatever this is to bed, just do it now and get it over with."

I furrowed my brow in confusion at his words, my heart beating in my chest so fast that I could hear the blood pumping through my ears.

"Turn you down?" I questioned. "Why do you think I'm going to turn you down? I just kissed you."

"That didn't mean much at Christmas."

He had a very valid point and I felt another pang of guilt at how badly I was treating him. I was hot and cold, affectionate and withdrawn, unwavering in my decision one minute and unsteady the next. I hadn't spared much thought to how cruel that was and now that I'd realized, I couldn't hold back the frustrated groan that fell from my lips.

"I don't know what to do, Chris! I think I know what the right decision is. It's what always felt like the safer choice, but then there are times when that's just..." I paused, taking in a deep breath to work up a dash of courage. "It's not what I want."

Chris watched me closely as if choosing his next words very carefully.

"If the safer choice isn't what you want then it sounds like maybe you need to take a risk. You can't live your life making decisions out of fear."

My eyes narrowed. He was over simplifying the situation. That way of thinking might work if it was just the two of us, but with Gray in the middle, things were more complicated.

"It's not that straight forward."

I shook my head as I spoke, but Chris countered with a nod.

"Sure, it is," he shrugged before asking a question that almost stopped my heart. "Do you love me?"

I stared at him, opening my mouth to speak and then closing it again when the words didn't come. I stood there, gaping at him like some kind of ridiculous puffer fish, until I finally got a word out.

"What?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face at my floundering as he repeated the question.

"Do you love me?" He asked. "And don't say it doesn't matter or it's not important. Just yes or no."

I stared at him for a moment longer as a war between my head and heart raged inside me. Deny, deny, deny was what my head was screaming, but in the end the quiet reminder of now or never from my heart was what won out.

"Yes, I do," I admitted, proud of my voice for not breaking. "I always have."

There was a grin on Chris' face now, but my stomach churned because it didn't mean anything. As I said, I'd loved him all along and yet here we were, no better off.

"That's all that matters then," he insisted. "We can figure out the rest."

"But what if we can't figure it out?" I protested, crossing my arms as if I could somehow fold into myself and disappear completely. "What if it's nice for a while and then it all comes crashing down around us? What about Gray?"

He shrugged again. His whole demeanour miles away from my own. He seemed confident, hopeful, almost excited while I felt nauseous, terrified and paralyzed by fear.

"But what if it doesn't? What if it all works out nicely? Why are you so convinced that we wouldn't last?"

"Because you're you," I reminded him, my tone flat as I stated the obvious. "Hollywood super star, Chris Evans. And I'm me, a boring nobody. You could have pretty much any famous actress you want, the only person who wants to be with me is the creepy maintenance worker in our apartment building."

Chris looked taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What? I've never heard about this guy."

"He's just some weird guy who does the repairs," I shrugged. "He comments on my outfits and looks at me in this way that makes my skin crawl, but he's harmless."

"Doesn't sound harmless to me," Chris argued, crossing his arms as a thunderous look settled on his face. "Does he have access to your place?"

"No!" I assured him, but after my quick answer I realized that I wasn't so sure. "Well, I don't know. He might have a spare key, I guess. If most maintenance people do? They have to give me notice before they enter the apartment anyway."

"Unless he's sneaking in to perv on you."

"Chris! That's gross!" I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "Why would you put that thought in my head?!"

"I told you that you should have let me buy you a house," Chris huffed. "You're moving when all this covid shit is over."

"Oh my god," I groaned having flashbacks to our conversation a few weeks ago about him buying me a car. "All of this is so beside the point! We're talking about how you'd get bored of me and leave me heartbroken for some flashy Hollywood babe, remember?"

"Right," Chris nodded, letting his arms fall to his side. "But that's such a ridiculous idea that I thought it was hardly worth acknowledging."

His dismissal of one of my biggest fears sent a flash of anger through me.

"How is it ridiculous?" I snapped. "It's true!"

"You know me, Whitney," Chris sighed. "You know that my team had to practically force me into doing Captain America because I had one foot out the door of the whole acting gig and I hated the way Hollywood made me feel. Do you really think that I would give up a chance at a having family with you, someone who I really care about, for some wild, short-lived fling?"

His tone conveyed his disbelief, but he hadn't quite accurately interpreted what I meant.

"I think you'd regret it," I clarified. "I think that once the initial excitement wore off, you'd see that I'm nothing special and that I don't fit in your world."

Chris was looking at me as if I'd grown an extra head and I crossed my arms a little tighter around myself.

"We were friends long before Grayson came around and I've always thought that you were something special. Where is all this insecurity coming from, Whitney? Because I just don't get it."

I swallowed hard as I bit my lip. I felt incredibly vulnerable and the urge to run away and continue ignoring all my feelings seemed much preferable to standing here and analyzing them all, but I stayed strong. We were both adults and this was the only way to move forward. Whether it ended how Chris wanted or not, he deserved to know how I felt.

"I spent a long time convincing myself that you didn't care about me as anything more than a friend. I told myself that it was an insane idea because we're in two very different leagues so there was no point getting my hopes up. Then that night happened and I thought that maybe I'd been wrong, that it could be the start of a really good thing, but then you were gone by the time I woke up and you never called."

I barely choked out the last few words as I fought back the tears that were swimming in my eyes. An unmistakable look of guilt flashed onto Chris' face and he opened his mouth to comment, perhaps to defend himself, but I held up a hand to stop him. I needed to get it out or I never would.

"Then three weeks later, I found out I was pregnant," I continued. "I assumed from your silence that you didn't want to be with me and I knew that we were good together as friends so I kept my feelings to myself and spent the last three and a half years beating myself up for thinking for even one second that you would want to be with me."

"I did want to be with you..."

Chris was looking at me with those puppy dog eyes that he'd mastered and I sniffled as a tear slipped down my cheek.

"I know that now, but I can't just turn those thoughts off."

Chris sighed and rubbed his hands over his face before holding out his arms.

"C'mere."

I shook my head, wiping my tears as I worried that I'd fall apart completely if I stepped into his arms, but when he persisted and gestured me over again, I couldn't resist. I took the few steps needed to close the space between us and let my arms slide around his waist. He hugged me close to his body, burying his face in my hair as pressed mine into his muscled chest. We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris broke the silence.

"I'm sorry. I was an idiot," he apologized, his words muffled by my hair. "I should have fought for you. At the very least, I should have stayed until you woke up and I should have called, but I was scared too."

I felt more tears fill my eyes as I choked out a soft "I know".

Another silence fell between us before Chris spoke again, his words making my heart almost stop completely.

"I was going to propose." I pulled back at that confession, my eyes wide as I looked up at him unable to process his words fast enough to speak before he continued. "I called my mom up as soon as you told me you were pregnant. I wanted her to help me pick out a ring, but she talked me out of it. Said you'd think I was doing it for all the wrong reasons."

My heart fluttered back to life at the sincerity in his admission, but I nodded my head.

"Your mom is a smart lady," I told him. "I absolutely would have thought you were only doing it because you felt you had to."

"It wasn't out of obligation though," he insisted. "Maybe I was getting a bit ahead of myself leaping straight to marriage, but I cared about you. It was an opportunity to make it official, make that commitment and be a family. That's what I wanted."

I stayed quiet, resting my head back against his chest as I tried to take in all this new information. It was a lot to process especially when it directly contradicted the belief I had clung to for so long - that Chris and I would never work and for Grayson's sake we were better off apart. That assumption was so deeply embedded in my brain that it was hard to find the courage to take such a risk.

As if Chris could sense my lingering indecision, he continued.

"It's still what I want," he said softly. "Being here these last few weeks with you and Grayson as a family has been a dream come true. I wouldn't give it up for anything or do anything to jeopardize it if you'd just give me a shot."

The word 'okay' was so close to the tip of my tongue that it shocked me.

That was all I had to do, just open my mouth and agree and he would be mine.

My heart was pleading with me to do it, to take that leap and ignore any of the arguments against it that were running through my mind - especially now that those arguments seemed much less sound than they had a few short weeks ago. I was so conflicted that it almost physically pained me to have to make a decision and I couldn't help, but wonder how he could be so certain.

So, I leaned back and tilted my head so my eyes could meet his.

"How can you be so sure?" I questioned. "After how things have been these last few years, how can you be so confident in your feelings?"

"Because I love you," he told me plainly and with unwavering surety. "If you tell me right now that it's not what you want, then I'll accept your decision. But if there's a hint of a chance, then I'll wait as long as I need to. I've been waiting for years, thinking that I didn't even have a shot, I think I can wait a little longer now that I know that I might."

It was another heart wrenchingly honest explanation, another vulnerable admission, and something in the openness with which he spoke made me realize that over the last three years he had done nothing to earn any distrust from me. Even after the fallout from Christmas, he'd put his hurt feelings and pride aside to make things easier for me. He'd been sincere during every discussion we'd had since then and hadn't been cruel or impatient about my indecision. I had no reason at all, other than my own fear and insecurities, to assume that he was going to break my heart and tear apart our family.

He deserved a little bit of trust from me as well and a clarity washed over me as I finally knew what I had to do.

There were words I could have said, probably should have said, but I didn't feel like there was anything that would accurately portray how I was feeling. I settled for a more direct approach as I pressed up onto my toes and let my lips fall against his.

He tensed at first and for a brief, heart stopping moment, I thought he might push me away again, but he didn't. He relaxed, pulling me closer as my hands slid to cup his neck.

It was a soft kiss. A gentle, loving kiss, that I hoped conveyed what I couldn't figure out how to say. But when our lips parted and he leaned down to rest his forehead on mine, there was a concern in his eyes that told me I wasn't going to get away with it that easily.

"What does that mean?"

I bit my lip, staring up past his long eyelashes into his eyes. There was still a tiny voice in my head telling me to run, to stop being so foolish and leave now before I made a mistake, but my heart had found its footing now and wasn't going to back down. Listening to my head all this time hadn't made things any easier, so it was time to try something else.

"It means," I started, taking in a shaky breath. "I don't want to keep you waiting anymore."

Chris let out a breath of relief as a tentative smile slid onto his face.

"Really? You're sure?"

I swallowed hard and nodded my head.

"Yes," I breathed out, my voice thick with all the emotions swirling through me.

He dipped his head a touch lower until our lips were reconnected. It was a deeper kiss, more desperate than the first as his tongue slid against mine and his grip tightened on my waist, my nails scraping against the fuzz of his recently cut hair. I caved into him, clinging to him like he was a lifeboat in a storm until he pulled back to take a breath.

My chest heaved against his, the adrenaline of his touch and what this finally meant, almost too much to handle. I settled back down, flat on my feet and nuzzled my face back into his chest as I fought to calm my racing mind and just enjoy the moment.

"You really mean it?" Chris asked again, the shakiness of his voice filling me with another pang of guilt. "You really want to give this a try?"

"I mean it," I nodded against him. "Doesn't mean my concerns have all vanished in the last five minutes, but I...I think I need to trust you."

"I won't let you down," he murmured into my hair as he pulled me even closer. Another silence fell between us until I broke it with an embarrassingly large yawn and Chris' chest shook as he chuckled. "Do you wanna sleep down here tonight?"

As soon as he'd asked the question, it suddenly hit me how exhausted I was. Even just the thought of walking upstairs seemed like an impossible task when there was such an inviting, comfortable bed only steps away from where I stood. But a thought popped into my head that I couldn't ignore and I turned my head slightly so I wasn't speaking directly into Chris' muscles.

"What about Gray?" I asked. "He always comes to you in the morning..."

"Would it matter?"

His tone wasn't accusing or annoyed, but genuinely curious as sharing a child did add a strange new element to all this. I didn't really know what the best way to handle it was since Grayson didn't really understand our relationship or know how a typical family was set up anyway, but it didn't seem like the best way to introduce him to the idea.

"I think we should talk to him about it instead of just letting him stumble on us in bed together," I suggested. "But I think maybe we should wait a while?"

Chris' face fell as the look of worry returned.

"You want to keep this a secret?"

"I didn't mean it like that," I shook my head. "You can tell whoever you want, but I think we should figure things out, make sure things are stable between us before we try to explain it to Gray."

"Alright, that's fair," Chris agreed before leaning down to place another soft kiss on my lips. "I'll wake you up before he comes down."

"Okay," I nodded as I let my thumb stroke his cheek.

We reluctantly slipped out of each other's arms, but it was a brief separation as we climbed into opposite sides of the bed. Once we'd turned the lights off, we met in the middle and he pulled me back against his chest, letting me hook my leg over his hip as we settled against each other.

Chris ran a hand up and down my spine as he nuzzled in my hair.

"This feels nice..."

"It does," I hummed. With the darkness around us, the quiet that had settled in, I felt encouraged to say something that I'd felt I should have said long ago. "I'm sorry, Chris."

I felt him tense.

"For what?"

"For messing you around so much," I admitted. "Especially at Christmas...that wasn't cool."

"If I had expectations, I should have laid them out before anything happened." His answer sounded rehearsed, as if he'd spent a long time convincing himself of that fact. I wasn't entirely sure it was a fair statement, but he continued before I could question it. "I can understand where you were coming from, but I promise I won't hurt you."

I felt a pang of uncertainty because that wasn't always a promise that could be kept, but the sincerity in his voice gave me hope. I placed a soft kiss against his chest as his hands slid up under the loose shorts I was wearing to cup my bum.

"I love you," I mumbled against his skin.

"I love you too," he replied, making a feeling of warmth flood through me. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

I sighed happily as my exhaustion had my eyes fluttering shut. I wanted to stay awake, to keep this moment before the brightness of the morning could bring any doubts or second guesses, but I was powerless to resist as sleep overtook me.

-

Part Five

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10

[13uswntimagines]

12 Drinks and a Kiss for Christmas (Sam Mewis x Reader)

Request:  uswnt x baby reader where their birthday is 3 days before Christmas and so the team tries to make it like extra special cause people usually just kind of ignore readers birthday. 

But @literaryhedgehog​ and i went slightly off the rails and had way too much fun making a drunk version of the 12 days of Christmas. 

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…

“One shot of bourbon whiskey,” you sang, modifying the words as one of the most infuriating Christmas carols came over the radio. You didn’t hate Christmas, you just hated the fact that it swallowed the entire month of December like a black hole. Hell, it took up November too (minus the last Thursday reserved for Thanksgiving). The music was inescapable, and any event planned in the month risked being decorated with whatever leftover trees and red and green trinkets someone had laying around. 

Any child born in December was lucky if their wrapping paper wasn’t also holiday-themed. You should know- you had the misfortune of being born on the 22nd. 

“That sounds like a change I can get behind,” Sam said, sliding into the chair next to you. “Never really understood why someone would want a bunch of birds. I mean towards the end of the song the lover starts giving dancers and pipers, and like, I know that probably means they were hired for the day, but still. An alcohol-themed song seems more my style.”

You laughed, “Happy to help.”

You bumped her with your shoulder, smiling up at her. You were friends with most of the women on your new team, but Sam was one of your favorites. She got your sense of humor, a sort of dry and quiet sarcasm that was a bit subtle if someone didn’t know you. But despite how incredibly cuddly her tall frame was, she was also completely willing to spend an afternoon exchanging barbs under her breath as you watched the significantly less subtle flirting going on between Mal and Rose. You had bets on when the oblivious forward and midfielder would admit their feelings for each other. 

“Wait,” you paused in your thoughts, frowning up at her. “I thought everyone was already gone. I took my time in the locker room because I didn’t think anyone was still here.”

“The first van already left, but I didn’t want you to have to ride with Carli and Becky by yourself,” Sam said bumping you back. 

You smiled up at her, then leaned over to grab the shoulder strap of your bag, “Well I guess we shouldn’t make them wait any longer-”

“Oh no it's fine!” Sam said, quickly. “They needed to run to the store anyway to restock our Oreo supply, they promised to text when they got back.”

“But Dawn said no more Oreos until after the Friendlies are over,” you pouted.

“Well Dawn isn’t driving the van, is she? Thus why Carli and Becky waited to run to the store until after the first van left. So nothing to do while we wait except rewrite the words to the twelve  days of Christmas, right? What should replace two turtle doves?” 

“Body shots…?” You asked, squinting your eyes. At least that would fit the tune. 

“I like it… Kind of annoying how well that fits actually. Are we going to make the entire song about shots now?”

You tapped your chin in through, quirking your lips. “Hm, not a bad idea, but I think it would get a little repetitive,” 

“Fair point. Okay, so the next line is three French hens. Do we want to make it three French wines, or is that too easy?”

“I think that’s cheating just a touch,” You smiled, holding up fingers a centimeter apart. 

“Ugh, fine,” Sam rolled her eyes, though that didn’t disguise for one second the grin on her face, “three mulled wines.”

“I think that’s acceptable,” you nodded. It fit like a charm. “four gin and tonic?” 

“Then four martinis. Come on short stuff, calling birds, martinis, they have the same number of syllables!” Sam exclaimed, slapping your shoulder. 

“Whatever. Five Gin fizzes,” You huffed, pouting playfully. You didn’t like to lose. 

“Oh, yum. I have no idea what that is, but it sounds delicious. How long again until we’re allowed to drink?” Sam whined. You both knew that one of the costs of your career included swearing off alcohol at certain points of the year. Especially hard alcohols. Something about feeding your body good foods so it could give you even the slightest of edges. 

“Too long,” You deadpanned. 

“Sigh,” Sam said, pretending to be melodramatic.  

“We gotta use grey goose in the next one. You know. It’s like a spin on the gooses. Guises? Whatever the correct pronunciation is,” you waved your hand dismissively. This would be much more entertaining if you were soused. 

I’m

“GEESE, you heathen. You’re right though. Ummm. Six grey goose toddies?’

“A vodka toddie though?”You looked at her skeptically.  “I’d rather share Emily’s Budweiser,” 

“Fine, fine,” she pulled out her phone and started googling drink options, muttering to herself (for your amusement, presumably) about ‘perfectionists’ and ‘just because someone knows so much about vodka’. “Um. There's a drink called a sunset? Or we could just go basic bitch and say six grey goose cosmos?’

“Well sunsets are made with tequila so a cosmo is more appropriate,” You mumbled. 

“The grey goose website says that you can make a sunset with their vodka. See, look at this, right there!” 

“Poppycock. They just want you to spend money in their stuff instead of Don Julio,” 

“But tasty has a recipe too, look,” Sam said, whining slightly. You weren’t the only one who didn’t like losing. 

You moved your head, dodging the screen. If you didn’t see it, then it didn’t exist. If it worked with Jill Ellis then it would work for you. 

“Just LOOK you obstinate bulldog of a human being!” Sam was giggling as she grabbed you to try and hold her phone in your line of vision  

“You can’t make me,” In your haste to pull away, you leaned too far over the edge of the bench. Before you knew it you were tumbling off the bench, pulling Sam with you in your effort to not crash out on the locker room floor. 

“Fuck, are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You groaned, looking up into the woman’s eyes. You never realized there was a thin golden ring around her pupil before it melted into blue or the smattering of light freckles that covered her cheeks. You weren’t sure if you were leaning into her, or if she was leaning into you. All you knew was that after a few seconds your lips were lightly touching hers. 

An annoying buzz broke the two of you out of your daze, Sam’s phone lighting up in your peripheral vision. You reached out and grabbed it, since her arm was currently trapped under you. 

Saucy Sonny- need an extra 5, you up for keeping her distracted with your flirting for that long? 

“Fuck, you probably shouldn’t be reading that. What’s it say?” Sam asked, as she extracted her arm and tried to reach around to take her phone. 

“You were flirting just to distract me?” 

“No! Sonnets just- I was just supposed to talk to you to keep you in here until the party was se- and I spoiled the surprise. fuck.”

“So Sonnett didn’t dare you to kiss me?” You asked with a very small voice. 

“No, but she has been teasing me about wanting to kiss you for the last two months. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to ruin our friendship if you didn’t have similar feelings.” Sam ruffled the hair at the back of her neck. “What a way to screw up your birthday. First the kiss then ruined the surprise party, and--” 

“I think we should definitely ruin our friendship,” You interrupted, smirking,  and nudging the woman’s chin with your nose. You reached around to intertwine your fingers. “And I promise to act surprised, as long as there are more kisses in it for me.”

[miceenscene]

'tis the damn season

frankie/reader | childhood friends to lovers | pre-canon

wc: 1.8k/2.5k

summary: At one point in your lives, you knew Frankie better than anyone else on earth. When did that change?

warnings: none

an: don't let anyone tell you that second person doesn't work from another character's perspective, least of all yourself while editing

Masterpost | ao3

Chapter 2: Who am I Related to?

December 8, 2012 18:57

Hudson’s was a shitty bar just up highway 210 outside of Fort Bragg, the nearest watering hole to the base as the crow flies.

As a result, it served pretty damn near exclusively military personnel. When it changed ownership about four years back, the new management decided to reflect that and so the place looked like the Fourth of July and Top Gun had thrown up on it. Never mind that Fort Bragg was an Army base. Still, they had cheap booze and greasy food that was far better than the commissary, so it was always busy.

Pope had texted the usual suspects a few hours ago that he was heading to Hudson’s that evening, making Frankie immediately ditch his plans of drinking alone for drinking with Pope and whoever else showed up. Most likely just Benny and Ironhead now that Redfly had semi-retired down to Florida. It was a short drive to the bar from the dorms on base, but it was enough to make Frankie groan and press hands to his lower back as he got out of his car and made his way inside.

Pope was sitting at the bar and didn’t look up from texting on his phone as Frankie gingerly eased into the stool next to him.

“Hey, Fish,” Pope said, rereading the email.

“Hey.” At the bartender’s attention, Frankie pointed to Pope’s beer before daring a slight back stretch.

Pope sent his email and then looked over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just finished PT.”

He chuckled once. “Back still fucked?”

“More tired than fucked anymore,” Frankie managed, shaking his head and wincing. The bartender delivered his beer, and Frankie took a swig. “When did we get old?”

“¿De qué estás hablando ‘nosotros’, viejo?”

Frankie jabbed an elbow and grinned slightly down at his next swig. “Culero.”

“Hey, before everyone gets here–” Pope looked at him, an oddly serious expression on his face for their usual bar. “I found out today you haven’t re-enlisted yet.”

Frankie immediately dropped his gaze to the suddenly very interesting glass in his hand. “Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”

“I’m trying to pull strings to get Benny into our unit full-time. I think he’d fit well with the team. Then Simmons tells me you haven’t signed your new papers yet. So what’s up?”

Frankie glanced over to see Pope still focused on him. “Nothing, nothing. I… I’m still thinking about it.”

He chuckled. “What’s there to think about?”

“We all want out someday, right? If we’re lucky enough to choose when we leave.”

“Yeah, but there’s thinking and thinking.” Pope smacked his shoulder. “What – are you gonna become a real estate agent like Redfly?”

No. Definitely not. Even just the idea of shilling condos was enough to make Frankie’s eyes glaze over. But still–

“Real estate agents make more money than we do.”

Pope made a considering face for a moment then brushed it off. “Yeah, but you’d miss it. You’re like me. We like the rush.”

Frankie nodded slightly. This is why he was still just thinking about it. It wasn’t a small thing to walk away from fourteen years with the Army. Especially since everyone knew the retirement benefits were absolute shit until you hit twenty. But he could already tell, he didn’t have another six years in him. He wasn’t even sure he had another deployment.

“You know the deadline’s New Year’s, right?” Pope said, cutting through his thoughts.

“Yeah, I know. I have some leave I have to take before the year’s out anyway.”

Pope nodded. “Good. Clear your head, get some perspective. See how fucking boring civvy life is, and then come back Jan 2 and join my team.”

Frankie smiled wryly; Pope always could make anything sound easy. “Something like that.”

“You have holiday plans then?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

Frankie sucked in breath. “I guess I’ll go back to my parents’. My mom’s been wanting me to visit for a while now.”

“How long’s it been?”

“I saw them in DC last summer, but I haven’t been back home… since I joined Delta.”

“Remind me where they’re at.”

“Up north. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Still in the same house I grew up in.” He could picture the wreath on the door, the twinkling lights his dad always strung across the front fence every December. A matching set used to be hung on the fence exactly opposite across the street. Who lived there now, he wondered. Would they put the tree in the front window too?

“Soldier coming home for Christmas. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“Fuck you,” Frankie replied as the others finally arrived.

--

Frankie got his answer as he ducked out the front door of his parent’s house about a week later. His breath immediately fogged as he sucked in a few calming breaths of night air, the pressure in his head slowly levelling. Out in the still darkness, the noise level coming from the living room was finally manageable. Inside, with all of his cousins and his aunts and uncles and the music and everyone talking over each other and the heater set far too high for the number of people inside– he… he just needed a break.

Seven hours was a decent stint for his first day. He’d be around longer tomorrow. Wading in. That was the key. Because he was now the kind of person that had to treat time with his family like running a marathon. Apparently.

He walked down to the twinkling front fence, making a mental note to shovel the front walk tomorrow, and stopped. The house across the street – your house, as it would forever be in his mind – was completely dark. A small sign posted in the front yard announced some sort of home refurbishment company was going to be arriving soon. No doubt they would come in, strip away wallpaper and old tile and heart to paint it all beige and granite for the quick resell.

He hadn’t had the heart to ask his mother yet how long the house hadn’t belonged to your family. No need for another reminder of how much time had passed, how much he’d missed. He had more than enough already.

The front door opened behind him, casting a temporary warm glow across the dark snow, and his dad stepped out, pipe in hand. He meandered down the front steps to join Frankie at the gate, puffing a few times before speaking.

He shook his head. “It’d break his heart to see it so empty, but I understand why she sold,” he said, looking at the forlorn house with him.

“How long ago?” Frankie asked.

“Few months. Not too long after the funeral.” Dad looked his way for a moment. “I’ll give it ten minutes before I tell your mother you left.”

“I… thanks,” he replied weakly.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back.”

Dad nodded slowly, leaving just the pipe smoke wafting between them for a minute. “Take it slow, no need to rush.”

“Thanks.” He stepped through the gate, fishing in his pocket for his car keys.

“Francisco,” he said, making Frankie stop and look at him. “We’re glad you’re back.”

Frankie just nodded and went to his car. Even though he couldn’t bear another minute in the noisy press of his loved ones, the idea of going back to his lonely hotel room was truly abysmal. So after some finagling with the ignition, he started the engine and headed to the one bar he’d ever been to in his hometown.

--

There were Christmas lights in the window and a dancing Santa on the bar as Frankie walked in. Some sort of forcibly cheery holiday classic played over the speakers tucked between quirky memorabilia that hung over every square inch of wall space. And even though public smoking had been outlawed by the state well over a decade ago, cigarette stench had sunk into the very foundation of the place.

It was nothing like Frankie remembered. But it would do.

Eyes automatically sweeping across the moderately busy room for a Thursday night, he headed for a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender came by. It was just one step up from swill, but comfortably numbing in its mediocrity. He looked across the room again, checking for familiar faces this time and finding none. No surprise there. A decade was a long time, and really he hadn’t been around too much for the years before that too.

There were couples on dates here, friend groups, some sort of girls’ night happening in the corner, a few loners like him hovering at the bar. Most everyone was smiling, talking, laughing so hard their whole bodies shook. A whole world of Normal. And Frankie was a tourist.

Pope was right. He couldn’t go back to this. He couldn’t make it through one whole day with blood relatives anymore. What was he thinking? That he could just settle into a normal life like the last decade of his work was nothing? Get a 9-to-5 and a mortgage and a girl – not that he’d ever had too much luck in that department. Especially when there was one girl that eclipsed all others, and he didn’t even know her phone number any more.

The door opened, making the Santa on the bar dance, and every thought in Frankie’s head immediately stopped. His eyes drew wide as he stared, jaw barely restrained from slapping against his chest. Was it really – course it was, there wasn’t anyone else it could be. A whole century could pass, and he’d still know that face.

It was you.

Live, in the flesh you. Cheeks pinked from the wind, haloed by the street lights outside, wrapped in a truly astonishing number of woolen layers. Not a half-remembered fantasy, but Real and breathing and even more beautiful than his memory had claimed.

He watched you shake a few flurries out of your hair and stomp the excess snow off your boots, shutting the door behind you as you waved to the bartender. Your gaze swung across the bar, completely skimming past him, and landed on the girls’ night in the corner. You smiled. He stared.

You began to head over to the people you were obviously here to meet. On nothing but pure instinct, he immediately got out of his stool and followed you. Falling into step behind you, he stretched a hand forward to hook a few fingers inside your elbow.

You looked back at him, and for a heart-breaking breath there was no recognition in your eyes.

Till he gave you a half-smile and said, “Hey Bo.”

You blinked, mouth dropping open. “Frankie?” you asked.

He nodded.

Your astonishment ballooned so wide it froze your whole face solid for a moment. Then you laughed, out of far more shock than amusement, and gave him a smile all his own. “Oh my god!! You’re here!”

You immediately wrapped him in a hug. And though it took him a moment to return it, for the first time in ten whole years, he was home.

Chapter 3: Not my Homeland Anymore

taglist: @kelenloth ; @darnitdraco ; @gracie7209 ; @616wilsons ; @icanbeyourjedi ; @astroboots ;

[fandom-took-my-sanity]

Natasha Romanov’s Guide to Traditions

“But it’s tradition,” Clint whined, looking at Natasha with puppy dog eyes, “We do it every year!”

“No we don’t,” She shot back, “Name one time we’ve done that.”

“We did it just last year,” Clint exclaimed triumphantly, “Remember? You were in the hospital and I came to visit you, and I brought you your gift.”

“Yeah, well that was hardly normal circumstances, I was in the hospital for heaven's sake.” Natasha sighed, “But if you really want to, I guess we can do it.”

Clint smiled and jumped up and down so much that you would think he was a little kid who was just given a puppy. He rushed over to the tree to pick out the presents that they would open. Natasha thought that opening a gift on the morning of Christmas Eve was ridiculous, but it made Clint so unbelievably happy that she let it slide. This isn’t a tradition though; it’s a one-time thing, she assured herself.

She sat down on the couch as Clint returned with the presents, he had picked out. They never gave each other much, surprisingly you don’t make a lot of money being an Avenger. But they never wanted that many things anyways, they were good with keeping it small.

The gift Clint had picked out for her was in a small square-shaped box. The wrapping paper was covered with snowmen and hot cocoa mugs, it was one they had picked out on a shopping trip early in the season. The present Clint had chosen for himself was one Nat knew he was going to love, she smiled, and told him to unwrap it first.

“Is it a...dog?” Clint guessed.

“Nope!” Natasha chuckled.

“How about a new car?” She shook her head.

“A new bow?”

“Now you’re getting closer. Why don’t you just open it and find out though!” Natasha smiled.

Clint unwrapped the bag and pulled out the box inside. He spent a minute looking at it, reading what the outside said, before moving to open it. He gasped once he looked inside.

“Nat, how did you- I thought that- woah,” He stuttered, shocked.

“Well, I remembered what Kate told us a few months ago about boomerang arrows, and how that would make things a lot simpler. I know you didn’t think it was a great idea, but then I talked to Tony, and we were able to figure out a way to make it work through technology.” Natasha explained, as Clint took out the devices and examined them. “They clip on to any arrow you want, and they are programmed to return to a specific marking in your holder. That way they won’t come back and hit you!”

Natasha finished with a huge smile on her face, and Clint was slowly moving away from shock to delight of his own.

“I love this so much, thank you,” He leaned over and kissed her, both of them smiling into the kiss.

“Now open yours!” Clint exclaimed once they had broken apart. Natasha carefully undid the wrapping paper and placed the small box on her lap. She examined it, trying to figure out what it was. It was definitely jewelry, the box had the logo of a local jeweler, but what kind of jewelry? She would just have to open it to find out.

She shimmed the lid off and lifted the box up to her face to look at what was inside. She gasped and looked up at Clint with sparkling eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, looking down at the necklace. It was silver with a little charm on it.

An arrow.

Nathasa thought that it was perfect. She moved her hair back so Clint could fasten it around her neck. It fit perfectly against her collarbone, all beautiful and shiny. She turned around to kiss him, and they stood there in the living room, pressed together for several minutes.

It’s hard to say who made the move to deepen the kiss first, but soon enough they were making their way to the bedroom, giggling like little kids. They jumped onto the bed; all the excitement of presents long forgotten.

A while later, they were laying on the bed, collapsed on each other, and pretty damn exhausted. Natasha turned over to look at Clint and smiled.

“What?” he asked, looking at her affectionately.

“Oh, nothing,” Natasha responded, “I was just thinking that we should make that a new tradition.”

Clint rolled over to kiss her, which she took to mean yes. This was definitely a tradition that Natasha would be looking forward to.

(Read on AO3)

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Christmas Specials: Jake and Kauri

Honestly, this is mostly just some genuinely sharp pining and yearning.

“Merry Christmas.”

The box, small and light, drops onto the kitchen table with a sound more like a tap than a thud. Jake blinks down at it, cheerfully wrapped in a bright cacophony of rainbow colors in vaguely ornament-like shapes. Jake sets his coffee mug slowly down, steam curling up into the air, particles of dust briefly visible floating through the beams of early morning light.

Kauri hasn’t slept, and it’s clear - his hair is still mussed, he’s wearing clothes from the night before, that particular look of shadowed satisfaction he has after a night well-wasted. Red-rimmed eyes and the slightest wince at the sun coming in through the curtains, and still… still, he’s Kauri, and Jake’s glad to see him.

“Not Christmas yet,” Jake offers, carefully casual. If his eyes are on Kauri’s too long, neither one of them mention it. Kauri smells like cigarette smoke and another man’s cologne, and he doesn’t smoke so Jake knows that means he’s been with someone who does. “You’re up early, Kaur.”

“At what point,” Kauri asks, with the air of a philosopher posing a question for the ages, “Does it stop being up late and begins being up early?”

“When it’s 7 o’clock in the fucking morning, you’re pretty safely at up early. What brought you by?”

Kauri shrugs, pouring himself a cup of coffee. The house creaks around them, ancient bones settling into the foundation. There’s the telltale squeak of the spot just outside the bathroom door, and then the sound of water rushing through pipes. Chris, in the shower, Jake thinks. Antoni steps around the spot on the floor that squeaks. Leila moved out, and they haven’t gotten anyone new for her old room yet.

“I just decided to,” Kauri says, yawning, and something about the way his eyes close makes him look like a sleepy kitten, rumpled and ready to simply list to the side until he collapses. “Had this to give you.”

“I have something for you, too, but I haven’t wrapped it.”

Kauri blinks, pouring peppermint mocha creamer into the coffee cup and topping it off with plain milk. He turns and leans back against the counter, sipping, and the way he smiles a little at the taste of the coffee makes Jake’s chest twist in an anxiety he can name but can’t afford to linger on. “You got me a present?”

Kauri sounds so fucking surprised that it hurts.

Do you really think so little of yourself?

“Of course I did. So did Chris, and Nat, and Antoni.”

Kauri lets out his breath, disbelieving, shaking his head with a half-grin. “I don’t know why. I can’t have anything that doesn’t fit in my backpack.”

“I mean, you could stay-”

“No.” Kauri cuts him off. “No. I can’t.”

“Fair. But I think everyone got you stuff that you can carry with you easy. Plus I think Nat got Keira something, but don’t ask me what. What you buy for a fucking Roomba is beyond me.” Jake watches the way Kauri relaxes back into the easy joking, the more sensitive minefield of simply being cared for avoided for now. “I’ll be right back, then we can exchange, yeah? Just us, first.”

“Yeah.” Kauri gives him that cockeyed grin again, turns to look out the window. The sky is a riot of purples and pinks as the sun slowly rises on a California December. The only change is that it’ll start raining soon, and Kauri wears a sweater sometimes.

Jake pushes himself to his feet, ducking his head as usual to avoid knocking it on the top of the doorframe, heading up the stairs with the solid creaks from the old steps that are as much a part of the house as the pictures Nat keeps on the wall. Chris meets him coming out of the shower, towel-drying his longish hair - he’s growing it out, he says, and it has the slightest curl against the back of his neck and under his ears - and wearing all his clothes already.

With some of the rescues, it’s a sign they still didn’t feel safe, when they took all their clothes into the bathroom and never let their skin be seen. With Chris, as with most Romantics, it’s the opposite. He feels safe enough to know he can make himself comfortable any way he wants. Not feeling like he needs to show skin is a sign of security for him.

“Hey, hey Jake,” Chris says, one green eye covered by the pastel purple towel. “Did, did I hear you, um, you talking to, to-... is, is breakfast-”

“Can you chill up here for a sec?” Jake interrupts him, voice pitched low. At Chris’s confusion, he says softly, “I just… want to do something. Give me ten minutes, yeah? Then I’ll start on breakfast and you can come down.”

“Um, oh-okay,” Chris says, frowning, but he slips into the room he shares with Antoni, and Jake heads for his own room, digging out Kauri’s gift from underneath a carefully arranged pile of basically trash papers in his desk drawer. Hidden, like Kauri was a kid who still believed in Santa.

Hidden, like Jake didn’t want to explain what he did to anyone but Kauri, and definitely didn’t want to explain why.

He heads back downstairs with the gift carefully slipped into his back pocket, unseen until he wants Kauri to know. Ducks his head again - and Jake has been ducking to avoid doorframes since he was sixteen, he thinks, or eighteen maybe - and finds Kauri right where he left him, still sipping his coffee, lost in thought.

Warm gold light edges his mussed-up black curls, sets off the blue of his eyes when he turns to look at Jake. Lights his smile a little, too. Jake’s eyes catch the barest hint of a flash of bare skin at his stomach, where shirt hem and low-slung jeans meet. 

“Want to do yours first?” Jake asks, and his voice sounds airy to him, but Kauri doesn’t seem to notice.

“Nah. You open yours, then I’ll do mine.” Kauri gives a smooth shrug, effortlessly graceful. Or maybe it hadn’t been effortless, before it’d been beaten into him until he couldn’t be anything else. 

Jake nods, slowly, and sits down, carefully shifting his weight not to put any on the phone, and takes the box in hand. He rips open a seam very slowly and shifts the box out, then folds the wrapping paper and sets it to the side. 

He catches Kauri watching him, eyebrows furrowed again and glances up. 

“Why-... why didn’t you just tear it?” Kauri points at the folded square, as neat as origami. “Why did you do that? It’s like 15 cents of paper.”

Jake shrugs, running his fingers over the smooth, plain brown box the size of his palm, mostly flat. “We always saved wrapping paper to use the next year, when I was a kid. It’s just a habit, guess I never lost it. What’s in here?”

“Open the box and see.” Kauri holds his mug in both hands, giving him a pleased little smile, and not for the first time, Jake thinks, if I’d met you any other way…

He opens the box. Inside, there’s three gift cards, slightly shiny, and Jake looks each one over, blinking, before he looks up. “This is… the Mitchells Center downtown, the Blue Martini, and… Holden’s Harbor… Kauri, this is-... what is this?”

“A date.” Kauri bites down on his lower lip, looking at Jake over his mug, and his eyes are sparkling bright. Jake almost opens his mouth to say, I’m so sorry, we can’t do that, we just can’t, when Kauri quickly adds, “For you and Addie.”

Jake’s protest dies, unspoken. “For… for Addie?”

“Yeah. You’ve been talking for months about saving up for a big anniversary thing, and then, you know, I heard you say you were giving Nat a bunch of your money when the pipe burst and the basement flooded, so…” He shrug, again. “I didn’t want you to miss out on your date. And I remembered you said she likes that bar, the Blue Martini, I know the bartender there-”

You know everyone, everywhere.

“-so he’s gonna give you drinks half-price, just tell me the night and I’ll let him know. Then Holden’s Harbor, that’s the big one, but I’m friends with a waiter and the hostess is going to give you a table that looks over the Bay, she’s fun, I partied with her a few week ago. And then… the Mitchells Center is doing Hadestown, and you said that’s Addie’s big thing right now. So. Happy anniversary.” 

Jake is, for a moment, utterly speechless. “Kauri this is like-... three hundred dollars of-... you can’t possibly-”

“Four. But don’t worry about it. I had a bunch of really good weeks a couple months ago and I don’t spend much money, anyway. Is it good? Do you think?”

Jake just stares at the gift cards for a second, swallowing around a lump in his throat, a tightening threatening to take his voice. “It’s, um.” His voice cracks a little and he has to clear his throat to recover it. “It’s amazing, Kaur. Thank you. Um… like I said, I didn’t have time to wrap it, but…” He pulls the gift out of his back pocket and lays it out on the table between them.

Kauri steps forward, setting his mug down. “What-... a new phone? Thanks, I-”

“Yeah, but, um, that’s not what’s important. Just…” Jake picks the phone up, and it feels like such a dumb thing, now, what he did, but he powers through it. The phone isn’t locked yet, and it’s easy to pull up the apps and folders, select one, and open it up. He slides the phone closer. “Pick one of those, and click it.”

Kauri looks down, and Jake looks with him. It’s a file folder open to a bunch of sound files, each one labeled with an emoji rather than words. A heart, a broken heart, a smile, a sad face. A gravestone. A tree. A cat.

His finger hovers, and then taps deliberately over the heart. A line of options pops up, each one punctuated with new emojis. The one Kauri picks is marked with a face that has blue eyes and black hair, a leaf, and a flower.

“I swear,” A voice - Jake’s voice - comes out of the phone’s speaker, “since seeing Your face, the whole world is fraud and fantasy. The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf or blossom. The distracted birds can’t distinguish the birdseed from the snare.”

“What is this?” Kauri’s voice is hushed, and uncertain. He almost sounds scared. But he doesn’t stop the recording. 

“A house of love with no limits,” The voice continues, “A presence more beautiful than Venus or the moon. A beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart. The Divani Shamsi Tabriz XV.”

Jake clears his throat again. “That’s, um, Rumi.”

Kauri’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks for a second like he’ll pick another choice, then pulls his hand back, looking up at Jake wide-eyed. “You… recorded poetry? For my Christmas present?”

“Yeah.” Jake licks at his lips, his heart pounding for reasons he can’t really explain to himself, or maybe just doesn’t want to. “You, um, you quote-... you quote shit all the time, so I started looking it up, and it’s almost always… poetry. So I figured, maybe, um, maybe-... you liked that shit, you know? And you shouldn’t have to… not get it, just because you can’t read yet. So I recorded, um, like… two hundred poems or something?”

Kauri opens his mouth to speak, closes it again. 

“Oh my God,” is all he says. His voice cracks.

Jake’s chest twists, nervous, he finds himself tapping his foot on the floor, twisting fingers into his pajama pants. 

Kauri leans over and pushes another poem, in a sudden burst of movement like he wants to stop himself and can’t. “Sometimes, I think you get the worst of me.” Jake’s voice is softer on this poem, and it’s uncomfortable listening to himself read this. Why did Kauri choose the love poems? “The much-loved loose forest-green sweatpants, the long bra-less days, hair knotted and uncivilized, a shadowed brow where the devilish thoughts do their hoofed dance on the brain.”

“This is Ada Limon,” Kauri whispers.

“I’d like to say this means I love you, the stained white cotton T-shirt, the tears, pistachio shells, the mess of orange peels on my desk, but it’s different than that. I move in this house with you, the way I move in my mind, unencumbered by beauty’s cage.”

“You, uh, mentioned her one day when Nat was listening to NPR-”

“Ssshhhh,” Kauri says, holding up a hand, as Jake’s recorded voice keeps reading.

“I do like I do in the tall grass, more animal-me than much else. I’m wrong, it is that I love you, but it’s more that when you say it back, lights out, a cold wind through curtains, for maybe the first time in my life, I believe it. Ada Limon, Love Poem With Apologies for My Appearance.”

There’s a long silence broken only by Kauri’s harsh breathing, and Jake watches tears build in his wide blue eyes. He’s done something wrong, somehow. It had seemed like a good gift but he’s ruined it, somehow it wasn’t right at all, it wasn’t-

“Thank you, this is-... this is amazing,” Kauri says. Barely words. More just a breath.

Some part of Jake had been tense and coiled to turn in on himself in anger. That part, at the words, relaxes. “You’re welcome. Is it-... is it good, or…”

“You, um-... you fucking heard, some shit I said, and you-... got me something, I just...” Kauri’s hands move nervously, over himself and over the back of the chair, to the phone, back up to his hair. He meets Jake’s eyes, and his brim with tears and Jake feels his own heating up in response. “You just… I, I don’t-... no one’s ever done anything like this for me.”

“Really?”

“I m-mean, not that I know of anyway.” The joke falls flat, Kauri’s voice is too full of tears. Kauri picks up the phone like it’s a precious object that might shatter or disappear, holds it with reverent hands. Swallows and looks at Jake like he’s seeing him for the first time. “I didn’t-... know you listened to me so much.”

“‘Course I do. Merry Christmas,” Jake says, voice maybe a little thick, buried in the things they don’t say to each other. “Merry Christmas, Kauri.”

Kauri pours himself another cup of coffee, and Jake lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding at the sign that Kauri will stay a little longer. 

With his back to Jake and the phone still clutched in one hand, Kauri says, “Merry Christmas, Jake.”

They both pretend that Kauri’s voice isn’t shaking.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

[mediocre--writing]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeknnubu/

I think I can send links but- I just saw this Pre K teacher tiktok & now all I can think of is a future AU where Steve takes like maybe a younger cousin or maybe a friends kid to school (or even his own kid??) and he walks in on fucking bad boy Billy Hargrove, still rocking his leather jacket and combat boots, seated on the carpet doing this with a bunch of Pre K kids as their teacher. Just this big mean badass dude sitting with a bunch of kids, being the best, most sweet teacher in the world

Bonus points for him having a battle jacket of some sort that he lets them add too and play with the dulled down spikes and studs on. And he has a class where the kids all make a patch one big patch for him to add to his jacket because he loves them so much

AND even more points if he just says his whole nice personality is “fake and for work only because it was the first job he got” but It’s actually real, and he really just likes being with the kids all day because their fun & they unconditionally love him, especially on his bad days where he’s sad & less motivated. I just crave soft emotional stuff 😔

steve, for as kind a fellow as he is, really should have thought twice about offering to take his nephew to pre-k every day.

jill, his older sister, had to be at work by 6 every morning during the week and had no means to take her son, patrick, to school every day.

and steve offered because what else was there to do? he worked two jobs that both started later in the day and jill offered to give him gas money to do it, so why not?

plus, patrick really was a sweetheart, he was just an energetic kid. steve preferred older kids. the younger ones tested his patience too much.

but imagine his surprise when he walks into the building, going to patrick’s classroom, turning into the doorway to see billy hargrove, same as he was when they were in high school, sitting on a colorful, patterned rug, animatedly talking to children.

“biwwy!” patrick yelled as he ran from steve’s side to his... teacher... and hugged him super tight.

“hey, patrick, my buddy!”

steve felt like this may be a dream. there is no way that billy hargrove, mullet and all, was patrick’s pre-k teacher.

billy looked to the door, where steve was still standing, and offered a smile. patrick looked to where billy was looking, excitedly telling him about how his super fun uncle was driving him to school now.

billy was engaging with the kids. he talked along with them and was able to balance all the kids at once. he looked happy, steve realized.

steve left a few moments later, making sure patrick was ok and staring at billy for a while longer.

it’s not until the day before winter break that billy and steve actually interact again.

the class is having a holiday party and parents are encouraged to come and bring food, drink, or just general supervision.

steve had made tons of cookies, enjoying his fattening hobby of baking, and they were all decorated with fun santa’s or snowflakes or christmas trees.

he was even told to make a few blank cookies and bring spare icing for kids to decorate during their party stations.

when steve got to the classroom closer to the afternoon, it was still nap time for the 15 kids in the class, all curled up on small cots and bundled in blankets.

when he came in, billy was sitting at a table near the door, organizing strings by color and had stacks of paper and boxes of markers organized the same way.

“hargrove,” steve greeted, “i made cookies, didn’t know if there were any allergies, so they’re pretty plain, no chocolate or anything. and i didn’t decorate a few, like you asked,”

“thanks,” billy didn’t look up to him, still hunched over the table detangling strings. “‘can set ‘em over there,” billy vaguely gestured.

steve went to set them on a table with a fun, winter themed cover over it.

he came back to sit by billy at the craft table because he didn’t know what else to do. plus, he didn’t want to wake any sleeping children.

“so, why are you a pre-k teacher?” steve asked.

“getting straight to the point, huh?”

“well, you look like that,” steve gestured to his embellished leather jacket, the mullet, the tight jeans (not as tight anymore, he did have to get up and down off the floor), and the hefty black boots that could probably crush a kid’s tiny fingers. “and i haven’t heard about you going through a brain reset or something, so what’s up?”

“it’s the only thing i could find,” billy grunted, not liking this conversation.

“don’t teachers have to go to college like everyone else? and have to have like a specific thing that says they’re qualified to be a teacher? seems like an awful lot of work for this to be the only thing you could find,”

“well, i can boss four year olds around all day, who wouldn’t like that job?” billy countered.

steve went to respond when there was a creak heard from behind him. one of the kids, a young girl with a wild head of hair, was walking over to billy with her blanket still wrapped over her shoulders.

“hey, jeanie, what’s wrong, doll?” billy asked, drawing his eyes away from the tangled string, which he didn’t do when talking to steve. he was giving the girl— jeanie— his full attention.

“i woke up,” jeanie said as she made her way closer to billy, “i got nightmares,”

billy’s face turned sympathetic as he put his arms out for jeanie, allowing her to crawl into his lap and rest her head on his chest while he wrapped her tight in his arms.

“wanna tell me what it was about?” billy asked, but only got a shake of her head in return, “that’s ok, you can sleep for another 10 minutes, doll. you’re safe,”

she was cuddled up in his arms, poking at the dull spikes on his shoulders and the silver buttons around the jacket. she looked utterly peaceful as she started to doze off again.

billy was so gentle with the little girl, adjusting her in his arms, making sure she was stable in his lap, before moving one arm back to the string, as if doing it one armed would be easier than before.

“i can do it,” steve offered in a hushed tone, “the string. i can untangle it for you,”

billy slid the string ball over to steve’s side of the table and let him take a crack at it while he started rubbing jeanie’s back.

steve had managed to get the string ball undone in the 10 minutes of nap time they had left. the boys didn’t talk through those 10 minutes, but steve would sneak glances over at billy often.

billy, for someone who tried to run a group of kids over once upon a time, was really great with younger kids. he was able to keep jeanie asleep, even when he moved an arm or straightened his back, something steve couldn’t do with patrick.

another parent showed up right when nap time was going to end, carrying bags of board games and such.

two more parents showed after the kids had woken up, and soon the party was in full swing. the kids were having a delightful time, half of them covered in glitter and icing, but nothing a good bath won’t fix.

billy was thriving in the chaos of four year olds, making sure they were following directions but still having fun, keeping the morale up and excitement high.

the parents seemed to love him, from what steve heard. one parent, wendy, even said that she didn’t like billy to begin with, thought he would be irresponsible and mean, but her kid loves him.

billy, for as much of a big guy as he was, didn’t seem to tower over kids menacingly when standing at full height. and it didn’t seem taunting when he would crouch down. he was on their level, in many ways.

once parents started taking kids home at the end of the day, billy, steve, and patrick were left to help clean up, though patrick was knocked out on the multicolored rug, he’d used up a lot of energy that afternoon.

“so, what do you want me to do?” steve asked, watching billy sweep the floors.

“you can leave if you want, i’ve got it. plus, pat seems to be knocked out, huh?”

“he’s already sleeping, and i feel really bad leaving you to clean everything.”

billy sighed, looking around at the disaster that was his room, “could you start wiping down tables? clorox and paper towels are in the far right cabinet, second shelf,”

they got to work and the whole classroom was clean within the hour. billy was throwing his bag over his shoulder and steve was carrying patrick in his arms as they walked out to their cars.

“do you mind opening my door?” steve asked after many attempts to get patrick adjusted in his arms to move and open the back door.

billy moved over to open the back door of steve’s car before walking back over to his car, the same car he’d been driving since high school.

i guess people really never change, steve thought.

once he got patrick settled into his car seat and got the car running to warm it up before he drove home, steve stood and talked to billy for a few minutes. just casual conversation, a thanks from billy for steve’s help.

“would you, maybe, wanna go get a drink or something some time?” steve asked, awkward as ever.

the rest was history, steve and billy would see each other for a date every weekend and they’d wave to the other in the mornings and afternoons.

they had a similar situation when the spring party came, steve bringing decorated and undecorated cookies for the kids and showing up during their nap time.

but steve had something in his bag that he wouldn’t let billy see.

through the party, steve would bring the mystery item to each kid, making extra sure that billy never saw it.

even at their date that weekend, billy couldn’t get it out of steve to find out what it was.

at the very end of the year, they have another party (and steve does not remember his pre-k days, but he doesn’t think they had this many parties).

billy has been weird the past week, finally realizing that he’s not gonna see these kids often, if at all, anymore. he’d grown very attached.

but, in true billy manner, he refused to let anyone know he was upset about a bunch of toddlers.

that’s where steve’s secret came in handy.

you see, on that day of the spring party, steve had gotten a piece of paper and has each kid sign it in a different color. he’d brought it to a small shop and they’d been able to transfer it onto a patch, one for billy’s jacket.

it was scaled down to be the size of an index card, but all the names were still legible.

when they’d given it to billy at the end of the day, before kids went home, billy almost cried.

he loved the kids so much and loved the connection and impact they have had on him without him knowing. he’s gonna miss rocking jeanie to sleep three times a week because she can never stay asleep alone.

he’s gonna miss the chaos that this group of children, specifically, brought. they made his day great, even if he was feeling especially shitty.

they helped him feel good about himself. kids don’t lie, that’s for sure, and billy created such a strong bond with them that all their thanks and love will be forever ingrained onto his heart.

[tay-is-writing]

Underneath The Tree — Todoroki Shouto x Reader

Merry Christmas @dreamy-writings​ I hope you enjoy your secret santa fic! And happy holidays to the rest of you guys I hope you enjoy as well! Word Count: 1.1k Synopsis: Your friends are throwing a Christmas party with a secret Santa gift exchange, and your secret Santa gives you a very special present. Warnings: Slight alcohol mention in passing  Below Cut

Beep beep beep. A familiar text tone interrupted your shower jams. You pulled the curtain open and glanced down to see who the message was from, quickly replying when you saw the name.

Right friend. 

Despite having a crush on the boy for months, you have made absolutely no effort to let him know. Your friends tried to assure you that he liked you back, but these were the same friends who are all single so you didn’t have much faith in their judgement.  

Regardless of whether or not he liked you, the two of you were still close friends and you were content with that. 

You finished your shower and got ready for the party as quick as possible. You had originally scheduled enough time to get there on time but this added stop was cutting it close. 

You pulled up to Todoroki’s apartment complex with about 10 minutes to spare. You were probably going to be late but it wasn’t the end of the world. Opening his apartment door, you were greeted by a cheerful black cat. 

“Hi Mochi,” you cooed, giving her a small scratch on the head. “I’m here to pick up a present from your dad.” You let out a small sigh as you spotted the gift on his kitchen counter. You were extremely excited to see him tonight but that seemed rather unlikely. Next to the box was a small note you assumed Todoroki had scribbled before leaving for work. 

Hi Y/N I’m super sorry for having you go through all the trouble to pick up this gift. Hopefully I’ll be able to make it to the party even if it’s late. Tell Mina I hope she enjoys her secret santa present. I was hoping to see you tonight but in the off chance I don’t, I hope you have a fun night. -Todoroki 

Another sigh left your mouth. God, why did he have to be so sweet? It’s like the man wanted you to be a constant pining mess. Stupid Shouto. 

No tonight you weren’t even going to think of the man. All you needed to do was distract yourself. Stupid Shouto wasn’t even going to be there tonight. 

You gave Mochi one last pet before heading out. Most of your friends were probably already at Momo’s by now. You sent a quick text to the group chat before putting your phone away. No cell phone distractions. Just you, your radio, and the road. The drive to Momo’s was normally four repeats of Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas is You but with your amazing driving skills speeding it only took 3.

You gave the door a small knock before opening it and were promptly greeted by Momo and Jirou wearing matching reindeer antlers and sweaters. Yes it was extremely cute and there was absolutely no way that you were jealous. Regardless of your envy, you gave them both hugs at the doorway.

“Finally!” you heard Mina screech from inside. She sprinted to the door and grabbed both your wrists, giving them a strong tug as she pulled you into the apartment. “Everyone has their present under the tree if you want to put yours there. Right now Bakugou, Kirishima, and Kaminari are in the kitchen baking cookies, and Shinsou, Midoriya, and Uraraka are setting up games in the living room. Although you’re going to have to sit through The Polar Express on repeat because Iida refuses to let us watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation since it’s ‘inappropriate’ but after a few drinks he’ll probably change his mind.”

You laughed at Mina’s comments and took a seat at the barstools by the kitchen counter. Maybe it would be easier to distract yourself than you previously thought. The two of you chatted about classes and plans for Christmas Day and New Years Eve, and entertained yourself by listening to Bakugou bicker with Kaminari on whether or not those store-bought soft cookies were good. Eventually, the whole group was sitting in the living room as Momo beat everyone’s ass at Uno for the fifth time.

“Alright I’m sitting out this round,” you said leaning back to watch the rest of them play. Big mistake. Despite your previous sentiments about keeping your mind off of Todoroki, you couldn’t stop your thoughts from drifting towards him as “Hot Chocolate” played in the background. You considered texting him and asking if he knew when he was getting off. The coffee shop he worked at tended to close around 8 so he’d probably get here soon, right? 

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a hand being waved in your face.

“Helloooo? Earth to Y/N? Anything going on up there?” Kirishima’s had startled you, causing you to jump a bit in your seat. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was just lost in my thoughts for a moment but it’s all good,” you replied with a wide smile. You noticed Kirishima looking past you for a moment but before you could turn around he spoke up. 

“Hey! Do you mind helping me carry in my gift from my car?” You were slightly confused as to why he didn’t bring it in earlier, but nevertheless, you agreed. As the door closed behind you, you heard a large commotion inside, likely another match of Uno lost. 

“This is what you needed help carrying in?” You questioned skeptically as he pulled a gift no bigger than a shoebox out of his trunk. 

“Listen, I forgot to bring it in earlier and was embarrassed to get it by myself.” A small giggle escaped your lips as he tucked the gift under his arm and shut the trunk. “Now when we go back in pretend like it’s super heavy okay?” 

How could you say no to that? You both held the present as you backed into the apartment like it was the heaviest gift in the world. You heard your name being called by Kaminari as soon as you set the gift down.

“Open yours first!”

“Already? I thought we were going to wait for Todoroki to get off work.”

“Didn’t you check the group chat? He’s not going to be able to make it tonight.”

You let out a soft oh, desperately trying to hide your disappointment. A small box was quickly shoved into your hands by Kaminari who was smiling like an idiot. Slightly nervous as to what would be under the wrapping paper, you took your time opening the gift. Inside the box was a small slip of paper which simply read “turn around.” 

A smiling split-tone haired boy stood behind you on the couch, a ribbon tied into a bow around his neck. And above the two of you hung mistletoe, held by Uraraka. 

“I guess this means we have to kiss,” he offered. You stood up and gave him a light peck on the lips, his soft lips caressing yours. And that split second was pure bliss. 

“Kaminari didn’t have any money for a gift so I offered,” he whispered in your ear. “Although I think this was a present for me as well.” 

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

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The next day, Marinette woke up in her bed, still dressed. By the time her father brought her into her room, she was already asleep. The emotions finally caught up with her somewhere along the way. Remembering the end of the evening, her eyes immediately latched onto her finger, but the ring was not there. A mere second before a panic attack, she looked at the bedside table, where both the box and the ring rested. She let out a breath. She didn’t lose it. 

“Morning cupcake,” a voice startled her. “Are you okay?” Her father was looking through the repealed doors. 

“Yeah… Did yesterday really happen?”

“We are still at Wayne Manor and I seem to remember to have put the ring on the night table.” 

“I can’t believe he actually proposed!” Marinette jumped off the bed and started to pace around with a dreamy look on her face. “I mean I know we are married, but it was still so romantic! And in front of so many people! Oh, Papa! I’m so happy!” She fell back onto her bed. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, cupcake. Remember that your Maman and I will always be here for you.” His smile took a sadder shade. “I know you’re almost a grown-up with a job and all, but to us you will always be the same little girl that I used to fit in the palm of my hand.” 

“Don’t worry Papa. I won’t forget you and Maman.”

“Good. Now let’s go open the presents! Race you!” He ran out of her room and toward the big tree in the hall. Mari giggled at her father’s antics before following him; the ring shining on her finger. 

In the back, Tikki floated with a big smile on her face. Her chosen finally had a chance for some happiness. If only that ruddy alley cat did not run away with the miraculous. She could still feel Nooroo and Duusu active. She could wait one more day before telling Marinette though. The girl deserved a peaceful Christmas.

---------

By the time Marinette arrived by the tree, most of the people were already gathered. Dick was seated in a large armchair next to a pile of gifts. He was dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit, complete with a fake beard. The only reason she recognized him was because of his voice.

“Now that everyone’s here, who wants…” He started, but someone interrupted. 

“Before that, I need to apologize.” Johnathan Kent turned toward Marinette. “Yesterday, after you left, I made some unsavory accusations about you, for which I want to deeply apologize.” Just for a second, his eyes jumped toward Sabine. The girl noted that her mother was glaring at the older man. “I’m a simple man and this… secret world you all live in is strange for me. Please, accept my sincere apology.” 

“Oh… No problem Mr. Kent. To be honest I’m still getting used to it all myself.” She smiled at him. Marinette was not that oblivious not to guess what kind of accusations the older man had made. 

“With that out of the way, I think we can get started. Maybe let’s begin with the youngest?” Dick said, trying to imitate how the real Santa Claus would sound. Marinette would admit that he was close.

“Me! Me!” Mar’i started floating in the air until Jon pulled her gently to the ground. He really got into the ‘older brother’ role. 

“Yes, you, sweetheart.” 

Mar’i received several gifts from the pile. Marinette was surprised to see one from her family. Inside were several baked goods from their bakery. She didn’t remember her parents packing any, but maybe they made them here.

“Me next!” Jon was giddy. His pile of gifts was slightly smaller, but there was a box of sweets there too. 

After that, it was Marinette’s turn. She received probably even more than Mar’i. There were also gifts from her Nona, grandfather, uncle Wang, one without a name tag that she was pretty sure came from aunt Sandra, a giant box from Chloe, and a small one that she had no idea who sent her. It was wrapped with a paper with black cats that would look better somewhere around Halloween, but she was too distracted to question it. Damian was busy arguing with Jon about whether he would get the Kryptonite knuckle dusters or not. 

She started with the largest box that Chloé sent her. Inside, there was a giant chest filled to the brim with detective novels and a letter that she chose to read when she was alone. Next was the gift from her uncle, which turned out to be an intricately decorated stone bowl for mixing ingredients. 

Her grandfather got her a beautiful rolling pin made half from cherry wood and half from solidified resin. The resin was in dark green color that reminded her of Damian’s eyes. But Roland had no idea about that, did he…?

Many gifts were some nice fabrics, a gift card to Gabriel, which she was tempted to burn as soon as she got it, but out of politeness just put it back into the box for now. Finally, the gift from aunt Sandra contained a set of beautiful daggers, a Katana, and a hairpin that had a space to pour poison inside. 

Her parents gave her a new rope dart, this time with a sharp end that she could use in combat. The line it was attached to was made from titanium-carbon alloy that would be able to withstand point-pressure of at least two tonnes. The weapon itself was practical instead of good-looking. The blade was thick, looking a bit like a diamond. The edges were sharp and the tip very pointy. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in a red cord for a more comfortable grip. Mari thanked them both before pocketing the weapon into her bag for now. She would probably fashion a better place for it.

Finally, only one box remained. The mysterious cats. Mari was about to open it when Jon noted it and leaped at her. The bow came undone the moment he covered the small box with his body. Everyone waited, watching carefully what was going on.

Nothing happened.

“Tt. Kent? Mind explaining to us why you decided to smash my Angel’s gift?” Damian glared at him.

“Um… I might have accidentally scanned it. You don’t want to see what’s inside. I definitely don’t want to see what’s inside ever again,” he shuddered. 

“Show me,” Sabine demanded. She picked up the squashed box and opened the top before closing it. A small lighter made its way into her hand and before anyone knew better, it was aflame. Seeing people staring at her, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It was a terrible prank.” She wrapped the now-charred remains and some vaguely straight shape into the torn paper. 

“What was this Maman?”

“A very distasteful prank.”

Marinette looked at the shape in her mother’s hand and her blood suddenly ran cold. It was shaped like a knife. The knife.

“No… He knows?! He can’t know!” She panicked, but Damian quickly pulled her closer to him, immediately soothing her some. 

“No, Sweetie. That bastard thought he would appease you by offering a painting of a stabbed Ladybug.” Sabine’s expression was heralding God’s wrath.

Jason growled. “He is sick.”

Next to him, Tim muttered so that only Stephanie could hear him. “You gave B. a crowbar on your first Christmas back…” Superman heard it too, judging from his reaction. 

“So what now?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be coming back beyond ‘appearing’ at the airport when your class is scheduled to leave. I still can’t believe how incompetent your teacher must be to force you to travel with them.”

“I know it might sound stupid, but I think you will be safest in Gotham City.” Lois offered. 

Mari nodded sharply before cuddling into Damian. “Don’t worry, Angel. I will protect you.” He reassured her while hugging her close to his heart.

“I can protect myself.” She huffed but didn’t reject his hug. 

“That I don’t doubt.”

“There is a good chance he won’t be able to reach you in Gotham anyway. He is just one kid, which will make crossing the border much harder for him.” Stephanie pointed. 

“He has his daddy’s money. That will probably be enough.”

“Let’s hope not. I will send the warning to the border control that he might be trying to enter the country, but that’s the best I can do.” 

“Meanwhile I will go check if my guns are working…” Jason tried to leave, only for Tim to grab the back of his jacket and pull him back into place.

“There is no point worrying for now. Let’s just enjoy Christmas.” Sabine nodded for everyone to return to gifts. When no one was looking at her, she pulled Jon to the side and placed the knife paper on the stone floor. They didn’t speak, not to start another drama, but the boy understood. A short heat-vision later the knife was no more than a piece of smoking paper and molten steel.

--------------

A blonde boy walked toward the terminal. He was dressed in a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a dark gray vest. He also sported a black necktie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. His hair was combed back, adding to the impeccable look. The green eyes swept over the guards as they observed him closely. He presented the passport.

He noted that it took them longer than it should. His eyes fell on the wanted poster next to the guards. 

“I’m not my idiotic cousin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah… Um…” The guard that was speaking to him was clearly confused. 

“Really? Ugh! That idiot decided to play supervillain and suddenly I have to suffer for it! I am not Adrien Agreste.” He ruffled through his bag, not caring that several guards almost drew their weapons. He finally pulled out a magazine with him and Adrien standing side by side, modeling for Gabriel. When side by side, the difference in their styles was even more pronounced.

“Apologies, mister. You must understand thought…” The man started to back-track.

“Yeah yeah. Spare the prostrating.” He dismissed the guard and walked past the checkpoint. Once he was out of the hearing range, he grinned. “It’s not you that I want to see on the floor…” He whispered omniously. 

-----------

Marinette and Sabine arrived through a portal five minutes from the airport, with ten minutes to spare before class was scheduled to meet. The two did not carry any luggage so they would get past the customs much faster. An upside to having all your things brought through a magical portal the day before. 

The airport was buzzing with activity. Marinette and her mother quickly got past the checkpoint and met with Chloé, who awaited them eagerly. 

“Dupain-Cheng! How was Christmas with the Waynes?” She asked in a hushed voice, so the class didn’t hear her. 

“Well…” Mari grinned before showing the blonde her ring.

“What? Now that’s what I call a good Christmas gift.” 

“How did you like the belt?” Marinette asked. In response, Chloé showed her that she was already wearing it. It was white with some golden glitter around the elegant buckle. There was a barely visible MDC logo etched on the buckle. The designer worked on it for some time before repurposing it as a Christmas gift. She had to cut on the glitter decorations, but in the end, the more minimalistic design appealed to Chloé. 

Sabine watched the two girls talk. A year ago, the woman wouldn’t believe her eyes if Marinette and Chloé acted this friendly. Now though, they were cute. 

“Did you get my gift?” The blonde asked impatiently.

“Um… Yes. The books are great.” 

“What was under the books!” The girl whispered, hoping to avoid Sabine’s watchful eye and ear.

“What?” Marinette looked surprised and Chloé had to resist the urge to facepalm. 

“Honestly Dupain-Cheng! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And then the mood was broken when the rest of the class found them. 

“Good morning Marinette.” Madame Bustier greeted the girl. “Sabine.” 

The older woman did not return the greeting. “It’s Madame Cheng. We are here in the role of chaperones.” She almost seethes. “Let’s keep at least the illusion of professionalism.”

“Um… right. Moving on kids!” The slightly embarrassed teacher declared. 

“She is just as bad as Maribrat,” Alya muttered to Lila when she thought Sabine couldn’t hear her. The glare she received in response made it clear she made a mistake in her judgment.

After they got to the plane, people started to whisper when Chloé and Marinette didn’t join them in the economy class where they had their tickets. Instead, the two left for the first class. 

“Why aren’t they joining us!?”

“Because Chloé’s father paid for hers and I can afford mine.” Marinette normally would be against such blatant flaunting of wealth, but she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it a bit into them that she earned the luxury. 

“She probably…” Kim suddenly lost his ability to speak when he was met eye-to-eye with Sabine Cheng. 

“Think carefully about what you want to say next.” 

He could almost see the flames of hell burning brightly behind her. “Um… she probably earned it?”

“Good boy.” 

“While I agree that Marinette earned it,” Caline started speaking and Sabine, Chloé, and the girl in question all had to resist the urge to groan, sensing there was more to that sentence. “I think it would be preferable if the girls joined the class for the duration of the flight. It would serve to strengthen the bonds between kids.” 

“And how exactly do you plan on fitting them when all the places in this place are bought out. Not to mention the price difference. Or maybe you thought money was not a problem?” Sabine asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Before Caline could answer, Lila decided to open her mouth. “Maybe Madame Bustier and you, madame could switch places with them. We know how hard our teacher worked and a bit of relaxation and comfort would do her good. You too could probably relax a bit from all the hard work in that Bakery.” 

Immediately after that, everyone started to agree and try to convince the chaperones to leave them alone. Sabine was about to protest when Caline spoke up. “Well, I think it would be acceptable, provided the girls agree.” She sent both a glare. 

Sabine’s blood boiled. She wasn’t sure if any normal girl would actually have the strength to stand up to a teacher in that position. Only the fact that Marinette looked completely unbothered stopped her from reacting. 

“Of course they won’t agree! They are too selfish!” Alya shouted. 

Some of the people on the plane started to stare at the group, with many gazes falling on Marinette and Chloé. 

The blonde scoffed, but her best friend grinned. “Sure.” She pulled her ticket and handed her to the teacher. “But we’re blocking the flight, so let’s move.”

Chloé handed hers to Sabine, smiling politely at the woman. “Marinette suspected this would end like that.” She whispered before taking a seat next to Dupain-Cheng. Both girls pulled out old-fashioned dictaphones and started recording what was going on with the class. Then Chloé gave Mari one of her detective novels and they started reading. 

Sabine shook her head. Her little girl had a plan and she would trust her. And after seeing Lila in action, she now had some idea how that liar worked. The way she manipulated people’s opinion reminded her in some ways of the assassin training she underwent. 

-----

The plane was already half-way to Gotham. Sabine did her best to ignore Caliné’s rambling about Marinette, switching between praising her and making her into the heart of all the problems with the class. If she didn’t know better, Sabine would think that the teacher had some sort of mental disorder. Beyond simple stupidity that is. 

Out of the blue, Caliné stopped rambling and Sabine saw her asleep, snoring lightly. 

“A strong sedative. It should give us at least an hour of peace.” A calm voice spoke from behind her. 

“Sandra.” Sabine greeted her sister politely, but without the usual cheerfulness. “Clever of you to choose here of all places to meet me. Don’t think that it will let you escape my wrath. You left that girl on the mercy of a monster.” 

“Cassandra was… I did regret what I did, but I couldn’t risk trying to reclaim her. Not until I was sure she could defend herself.” Sandra said, allowing emotions to enter her voice. Sabine could tell she was genuinely saddened by the situation. 

“You could’ve brought her to me. I would raise her along Marinette without a second thought. And you know that nobody would dare to come after me.” The older turned in her seat to glare at her sister. Two men at her side were both also sleeping, each with a small wound on their neck. They had complete privacy. 

“I… I’m sorry. By the time I managed to find her again, I… I was ashamed. I admit that it pained me to see what Cain did to her. But I couldn’t…”

“We will talk about it when I can scream at you properly.” Sabine cut her off. “For now I want to know what is so important you decided to show up personally, risking my wrath.”

“The boy has allies.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but they are influential enough to shield him from many of my contacts.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you tried. As opposed to with your daughter.”

“I deserve it…” Sandra lowered her head. 

“Yes, you do.” Sabine huffed. 

“If I find the kid…” 

“He sent Mari the knife he stabbed Ladybug with. I have no idea how he got his sticky hands on it…” 

“You still have the bag, right?”

“Already waiting for me in Gotham.”

“I will try digging some more, but I’m getting blocked at each turn.”

“Meanwhile I will keep both our girls safe.”

“I got the picture of Talia by the way.” Lady Shiva allowed a smile to ghost her face. “I carry it framed and put it by my bed. She got a few copies too.” 

“Good. That might remind her not to trifle with us.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Sabine was still angry and it showed. She would give her sister a piece of her mind when the time came. 

-----------

A figure stood cloaked in shadows. The small screen showed a series of images. 

“Poison Ivy; Bane; Penguin; Riddler; Mr. Freeze; Two-Face; Scarecrow; Clayface; Falcone; Harley Quinn; Killer Croc; Joker…” 

“The previous Hawkmoth was a fool.” Another figure spoke from the shadows. Their voice was neither feminine nor masculine. “He stuck to a moral high ground, giving powers to untrained kids. Then again, he was fighting kids.” 

A small, butterfly-like creature floated in the air. “But that is precisely what the Butterfly Miraculous is supposed to do! Its powers will work best with the common people.” 

“Interesting.” The main figure grinned. “So my father wasn’t such a fool after all.” He laughed when another image appeared on the screen. “And I see that my trap is already working.”

Duusuu had to hide from fear. This was not the kind boy they knew. What could’ve happened to Chat Noir, the great kind Chat Noir that made him into… this.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[absconditum-imaginaerum]

                        [[9:49 PM]] - Mistletoe - Juyeon - Fluff - [[1,386]]

 The Christmas party at your best friend’s place this year was themed, which meant everyone was assigned an outfit—Santa, Mrs. Clause, a reindeer, or an elf. Couples were often assigned things that match, such as Santa and Mrs. Clause, a reindeer and an elf, or in less typical pairings, an elf and Mrs. Clause, or Santa and a reindeer. Somehow, you had picked (in a blind draw) for a Santa outfit. Honestly, you couldn’t help but laugh. You had a few options—wear one of those oversized coats, wear something mischievous, or find something in between.

You were able to create something just in time; not something too modest, but not too revealing either. You at least had a skirt that felt somewhat long enough, and a top that would keep you warm and also be fashionable as one could make a Santa outfit not made for a burly man. You only wondered if a pair, should you find one, would be a male dressed up as Mrs. Clause. The thought rolled through your mind as you sat on the couch next to the decorated tree, swirling your champagne as you listened subconsciously to the conversation that was taking place around you. It was a smaller gathering, compared to the parties your friends usually threw; for that, you were thankful.

The couch sunk down to your left, while you were crammed in the right corner. He was done up, all out on the costume, right out of the movie Elf complete with yellow tights and the curly shoes.

“Don’t look so lonely over here, it’s Christmas,” he whispered to you, trying not to draw attention your way since he knew that’s the last thing you wanted. You sighed, taking a sip of your champagne before finally meeting his eyes.

They glittered, reflecting all of the multicolored lights that beamed from the tree and off the tens of ornaments as you looked up at him. He was holding his flute out to you, gesturing for a quiet cheer to the end of the year with the hopes of new and better things on the horizon.

“I’m not lonely,” you replied, “at least, not anymore,” you joked with him and leaned into him as he wrapped a playful arm around your shoulders. You could feel Juyeon’s smile as he tilted his head against yours, relishing your company for a moment before being brought up in conversation, and turned to actively engage the group, but not once did he think about pulling his arm back from around you.

He guzzled the rest of his flute of champagne, staving off the embarrassment of the story that was being told, a story from high school years he would have rather forgotten, but you couldn’t help smile at the blush on his cheeks. You finessed the flute from his hand and rose from the couch to carefully step between people’s feet, using refilling his glass as an escape because he was two seconds away from turning to you for help, and that was the last thing you’d hoped for.

You busied yourself in the kitchen where there was a bit lighter to see what you were doing as you uncorked the champagne after pulling it from the fridge to fill Juyeon’s glass and top yours off before his tall frame was rushing through the entrance of the kitchen. He scrambled across the tile flooring, almost slipping in his silly elf shoes before he was wrapping you up from behind, almost knocking a flute from your hand.

“What are you doing?” you laughed, steadying the champagne.

“We’re getting ready to do the white elephant exchange, and they told me to come find you,” he muttered, sinking his face into the crook of your neck. It brought a blush to your face; it was things like this that were fueling the rumors of a relationship between the two of you and while you agreed that the two of you were friendly with each other, there was never the blossoming of a relationship.

“I’ve only been gone like twenty seconds!” you protested.

“Okay, maybe I also wanted to escape the embarrassment, but I mentioned it enough to get away,” he told you, his little hat flopping off his head and onto the counter before he tugged away from you to snatch it up. You turned to look at him, watching him shake his hair out and fix it up a little bit before daintily replacing his hat with a toothy grin.

“You’re cute,” you told him and handed his flute back before cupping your hand against his to tug him back out to the living room so you could start drawing numbers for the gift exchange. He stood next to you, tall and warm with a long arm around your body as you watched people diligently pick their gifts from the table they were splayed out across. They looked almost identical, all cubically shaped wrapped in the same plain white wrapping paper to prevent people from trying to guess what they were.

You laughed at the group, typical goofing around as they all hollered for the picker to hurry up before breaking into fake arguments. It was almost endearing, the way Juyeon stroked his hand against your arm like the two of you were watching your kids on Christmas morning being absolute fools. You finally picked your gift; a reindeer headband for the festivities and a set of small assorted candles. Juyeon got a set of tilting puzzles, the kind where you have to maneuver a ball from one side of the puzzle to the other. White elephant gifts were always silly, usually gag gifts, but you were pleased with your candles, and even more pleased with the way he helped the headband onto your head.

“My cute little reindeer,” he teased you with a smirk. You shook your head and rolled your eyes until all of the presents were claimed and people were busying themselves with their gifts and trading things back and forth, leaving the attention still off you, for just a moment that is.  His attention was taken by someone, which was fine because you were still enjoying the chaos that was unfolding in front of you between all your friends about their gifts and other things.

That is, until Juyeon’s honey voice was sliding into your ears and down your spine like thick sap again, asking you a question you weren’t sure you would ever hear him asking you, so just to make sure, you turned to look at him so you could read it off his lips and asked him to repeat.  There was a tinge of blush on his cheeks, a nervous laugh falling from his lips first.

“I said, can I kiss you?”

You looked between his eyes like he had ten heads, and when he finally caught on that you were obviously confused, that it seemed like a question out of the blue, he motioned up with his head to indicate the mistletoe that hung just above the both of you. The situation rotated in your head probably a hundred times before a soft smile overtook your lips.

“It’d be bad luck not to,” you replied, unleashing the butterflies in his stomach as he turned entirely towards you, sliding a hand against your middle and around your back to pull you close to him and slowly leaned down with the tilt of his head to mesh his lips against yours.

“Oooooohhh!!!!” the group called—they had to be tipped off by someone. But not even the whoops and the hooting and teasing encouragements broke Juyeon away from you, in fact, it may have only made him a little more confident before he pulled away and the whooping increased littered with some cheers. In the background, confirmations of people owing others money and losing bets about your status seemed to be lost in his captivating gaze as he looked down at you, locking your tunnel vision on him.

“Wow,” he breathed, breath hot against your face, fingers still furling in the soft fabric of your bright red costume.

“Yeah, wow,” you replied just the same, and in your subconscious, your fingers were tugging at the back of his neck to bring him back down.

And more hollering ensued.

[duchesschameleon]

dreidel, dreidel, dreidel

summary: Aaron and Jack’s Hanukkah education continues with playing dreidel and some shenanigans ensue. (continuation of light the candles)

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN Jewish Reader words: 2.3k a/n: Happy Hanukkah everyone! I’m so excited I finished this in time for the first night (I just lit my menorah) and I hope you enjoy it! There are some resource links at the end to explain dreidel, show pictures of what one looks like, and to the song referenced in the fic. The song is also linked as you’re reading the fic. As always, feel free to ask me questions about Hanukkah and I will answer to the best of my ability!

Jack insists that you teach him how to play dreidel so he can play it at Rossi’s annual holiday party. Aaron smiles at the two of you sitting on the couch as you show him the dreidel and explain the game. Thankfully, you’d been able to find a dreidel that had the sides labeled so it’s easier for Jack to pick up on the game and learn the different Hebrew characters.

Of course, you’d also sang the dreidel song which Aaron laughed at. You shot him a glare; you’d never claimed to be a good singer. The song is just helpful, especially for kids. And one of the few Hanukkah songs you can teach Jack. Jack sings along, catching on quickly. You smile, happy that he seems to be so interested in Hanukkah and celebrating it. Aaron’s hand falls on your shoulder, squeezing as he joins in the song. You feel so surrounded by warmth and love, despite only being with Aaron for a few weeks.

They’ve made this spot for you in their lives, and even when midway through Hanukkah the BAU had caught a case and had to travel, Aaron made sure you weren’t alone for lighting the electric menorah you had grabbed from your desk. The one he’d given you. Even if you were lighting it at 10 pm, after a long day at the local precinct, he was there with you. By the eighth day, he was trying to say the prayer with you, stumbling over the unfamiliar words. It’s a sense of comfort, not being alone and having someone to take in the beauty of a fully lit menorah with you. Of course, an electric one isn’t as beautiful as the real candles you have back home, but Aaron tells you that Jack wouldn’t be opposed to one more night of Hanukkah, of a fully lit menorah, maybe some latkes, and definitely some dreidel.

Which is how you found yourself here, on the couch beside Jack playing dreidel while the candles burn low in the menorah in the windowsill. Aaron’s hand stays on your shoulder as he comes around the couch to sit next to you, curling into your side.

“So, do we use the same dreidel for the whole game? Or do we each have one?” Jack asks you.

“Usually, all the players use the same dreidel. It’s more fair that way,” you explain.

“Fair? Why would using a different dreidel be unfair?” Jack looks confused, his eyebrows furrowed just like Aaron’s.

You pause, searching for the right way to explain this to Jack. “Well, some dreidels tend to land on one symbol more than others. To keep the game even and fair, everyone uses one dreidel so there’s no chance of cheating,” you say slowly.

Jack still catches on though, clearly inheriting Aaron’s brains. “So there are some dreidels that land on gimel more? So that means I’d win more!”

“Yes, I guess that’s what that means,” you laugh, “but c’mon, that takes the fun out of the game doesn’t it? And what would that get you anyway, more chocolate? We aren’t playing for money.”

Aaron huffs out a laugh next to you and you lightly elbow him in the ribs. “More chocolate isn’t a bad thing!” Aaron says in defense.

“He can always ask for more chocolate! He doesn’t need to cheat to get it. And shouldn’t you be putting a stop to this?” You raise an eyebrow at Aaron, and he matches it, leaning in to peck you on the lips.

“Can we bring the dreidels to Uncle Dave’s next weekend?” Jack asks, drawing your attention back to the game at hand. All the dreidels Aaron had bought and the ones you’d brought over from your place are strewn across the table.

“Sure we can,” you start slowly, “were you, uh testing them out?”

Jack nods, his smile wide and blinding. “Yup! I know which ones mine. We can teach everyone else! You said before they don’t know the game. That means I can tell them that we each pick a dreidel.”

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “So, you want to help me teach everyone dreidel?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun. Please?” Jack asks, his big, brown eyes pleading with you. You sigh and nod and Jack lets out a whoop of excitement, throwing himself back into the couch cushions. You laugh and turn more fully towards Jack, reaching your fingers out to tickle him. He laughs and Aaron joins in, the both of you tickling Jack mercilessly until he’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe.

At bedtime, Jack gives you a big hug and you kiss his cheek as he scampers off down the hallway. Not much later, you’re giving Aaron a kiss goodnight as you leave the apartment, a little more excited for Rossi’s holiday gathering the following weekend.

A few days later, Aaron calls you into his office around lunchtime. You go, glancing at the pile of consults on your desk and wondering if you’d missed something on one of them. He motions for you to close the door as you enter and you do, your suspicion growing.

“Did I miss a paperwork deadline? Why the closed-door meeting?” you ask, a slight panic to your voice.

“No, no this isn’t work related,” Aaron reassures you and you take a deep breath as you sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk. “It’s about Jack. And Dave’s party.”

You nod, silently urging him to continue.

“Jack wants to help you teach the team dreidel, as you know. He also wants to, well, he wants to omit or slightly alter some of the rules,” Aaron explains. You raise an eyebrow as Aaron continues, “He says it’s their fault they never asked you how to play before, so he wants to make, well his own rules.”

You nod slowly, catching his drift. “So, Jack wants to fudge some of the rules to his advantage? This have anything to do with the questions he was asking the other night?”

Aaron bites his lip as the tips of his ears turn red.

“Ok then. Could be fun, teaching this team a lesson.”

Aaron huffs out a laugh at that and you smile at him. He releases you, saying that’s all and you return to your desk.

Dave greets you with a hug and a kiss on each cheek as you walk into his house, a bag on your arm filled with supplies Jack had requested, via a text from Aaron’s phone.

“Let me take that for you,” Dave says, reaching for the bag.

“It’s fine, I’ll bring it to the living room. I need to show it to Jack anyway.” Dave motions his understanding as he retreats to the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner.

You make your way to the living room, delighted to see not only traditional Christmas decorations but some blue light strands and even some blue and silver tinsel. The menorah Aaron bought for him and Jack is on the mantle, all nine candles in place, and you can see gelt on the coffee table. It makes you smile, Aaron being so insistent that there are Hanukkah decorations and even bringing his own. You feel his presence at your back, broad and close and you can just smell his aftershave and you turn to smile at him.

“Jack insisted on the menorah. Even though Hanukkah ended, he wants to see it fully lit one more time. And give you the opportunity to teach the team the prayers, if you want,” he explains, ever aware of the personal boundary that comes with prayer.

“We’ll light them once everyone’s here and the foods in the oven,” you say, “maybe we can pull up that song you found that actually has the prayer in it?”

Aaron nods, remembering the YouTube spiral Jack inspired in a desperate attempt to find more Hanukkah songs. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving you a hug before he goes into the living room and sits on the couch near where Jack and Henry are playing by the tree. JJ looks up from where’s perched on the arm of a chair Will’s occupying and smiles when she sees you. You make your way over to them, saying hello and placing the bag under the coffee table.

“What you got in there princess?” Derek asks, leaning down to peek in the bag.

“You have to wait and see,” you say, slapping his hand lightly. Jack meets your eye and beams, and you wink back at him. He scrambles up to give you a hug and squeezes tight, his excitement palpable.

Once everyone arrives and the food is in the oven to cook or stay warm, the whole team settles in the living room. You quickly explain the menorah and light the lights with “Hanukkah Blessings” playing from Aaron’s phone and then it’s time for dreidel.

Jack bounces on his knees, excited to share this game and explain his version of the rules. He’s perched next to you on the couch as you take everything out of the bag. You put the dreidels in a pile, and Jack takes his out of his pocket and places it in front of him. The team tries to keep their faces blank as you pull out gelt, some money, and a few pieces of paper out of the bag.

“So, this year we’re playing dreidel. Jack is going to help me teach you guys how to play. Dreidel is the spinning top game kids – and adults – play during Hanukkah. The little pieces of paper tell you what the symbols mean. They’re Hebrew characters and not all the dreidels have them written on them. The goal of the game is to win the pot. Depending on what your dreidel lands on, there are different actions. Jack, do you want to explain?”

He nods, “There are four sides to the dreidel and each has a different symbol. We start by each putting some money into the pot. Then, we take turns spinning our dreidels. If you land on nun, you do nothing. If it lands on gimel, you win and take the pot. If you land on hei, you take half the pot, and if you land on shin you put money in!” Jack explains, pointing out the characters on the dreidel.

Everyone nods along and then there’s a scramble to claim a dreidel. You notice Jack pushing one towards Henry and smile, knowing he’s looking out for his buddy. Spencer tests a few out before choosing one and shoving the others towards Morgan and Emily. Aaron catches your eye from across the table and your smile turns a little sharp, excited for the chaos that is about to ensue.

“Jack! How do you keep winning?” Morgan yells after the third time Jack landed on gimel, winning a sizeable pot. You have to hand it to him; he’s done a great job hiding the fact that he has a loaded dreidel. Spencer definitely knows what’s going on and has thankfully kept his mouth shut, choosing instead to play along and see the fallout. You’re fairly certain JJ has caught on to the plan, eyeing the piles of money in front of Jack and Henry. You bite your lip, trying to hide your smile and just shrug in Morgan’s direction.

“Lucky kid?” you say, as you put a dollar in the center of the table to start the pot again. Morgan grumbles as he does the same and Will commiserates with him. “It’s not like there’s a strategy to dreidel, it’s really in the luck of the spin.”

And oh, that was the wrong thing to say. Emily’s eyes light up in recognition and she gasps. “No way!” You and Aaron lock eyes and wince a little, knowing that the game is up. You’d both been holding back laughter and enjoying seeing the team get more frustrated as the two kids rake in the money while their own piles dwindled.

Dave catches on next, humming and sitting back in his armchair. He raises his glass of scotch to you and Aaron, conceding the game and just shakes his head.

It’s Penelope who gasps next and points an accusatory finger at you, “You didn’t! Are these even the official rules of dreidel?” she asks, her voice a little shrill.

You blush and look down, knowing you’ve been caught. You pat Jack on the shoulder as you tell him, “you had a good run buddy.” Jack looks at his pile and nods, understanding that the game couldn’t go on forever. Morgan squints his eyes and looks at Jack. He starts shaking his head and you know he’s putting the pieces together. “Technically, these are not the official dreidel rules. But you guys never asked about playing it before, so we figured we’d have some fun with it,” you explain with a shrug.

“Wait wait wait, we?” Morgan asks, pointing fingers at you and Jack before turning to Aaron, “Hotch you let your son hustle us?” Aaron just shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “Do you even play dreidel with real money?”

You shake your head, laughter bubbling in your chest. Will looks betrayed too, but JJ ruffles his hair and points out the pile Henry has. It placates him a little, knowing that Henry wasn’t caught up in the shenanigans. Jack belly laughs as Morgan shakes his head and talks about never playing dreidel again with him. Penelope and Emily have their heads together and you’re a little scared that they’re planning revenge, but you turn your attention to Spencer instead who’s now seated on the floor next to Henry and spinning the different dreidels with him for fun.

“We are never talking about this again,” Derek says, pointing a finger at you. “I cannot believe you let Jack hustle us at dreidel! And change the rules!”

Penelope laughs and places a hand on Morgan’s arm, “Morgan, think about it, now we have the perfect prank for any newbies on the team!” she exclaims. “BAU initiation – you must get hustled by the kiddos at dreidel!”

resources: all about hanukkah

all about dreidel

Hanukkah Blessings

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner