#but I don’t get one until Christmas Eve and that’s when I’ll be at my mom’s FOR Christmas

[rosemariiaa]

~A Winter’s Promise~

˖˙ ᰋ ── pairing: Paige x Azzi

˖˙ ᰋ ── rosie’s note: hi hii, this is somewhat an apology fic. i wanna drop some fics all december but idkkk. i love pazzi as moms and i love little evie, and that airport pic made me smile! happy reading lovelies 💌

˖˙ ᰋ ── themes: fluff, teasing

enjoy!!!

The first pang of frustration hit Paige as the flight attendant’s voice echoed over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, due to weather conditions, Flight 386 to Minneapolis is delayed indefinitely. Please stay tuned for further updates.”

Paige groaned, rubbing her hand down her face as she leaned back in the stiff airport chair. She’d been stuck in the terminal for hours, itching to get home for Christmas. This wasn’t just any Christmas; it was her first chance in weeks to see Azzi and Evie. Azzi had been holding down the fort with their daughter while Paige played overseas, and though video calls and texts helped, it wasn’t the same.

Her phone buzzed on her lap.

flight still delayed?

Paige let out a sigh, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. What could she say? She wasn’t even sure she’d make it home tonight.

yeah, they’re saying the storms getting worse

might not be able to fly out til tmr :(

i’m sorry baby, it’s okay we’ll make it work just get here when you can

i’ll figure it out dw, give eve a kiss for me

She ran a hand down her face, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in her chest. Azzi had told her to take her time, but the thought of missing Christmas Eve with her wife and daughter made her stomach churn. Evie had been counting down the days until she was home, and Paige had promised her she’d be there.

“Not happening,” Paige muttered to herself, standing abruptly and grabbing her duffel bag.

She approached the airline counter, waiting impatiently behind a handful of equally frustrated travelers. When it was finally her turn, the agent didn’t even look up as they spoke.

“Sorry, ma’am, all flights are grounded for the night.”

Paige gritted her teeth, leaning against the counter. “There’s gotta be something you can do. Another flight, a private plane, a damn sled—I don’t care. I just need to get home tonight.”

The agent glanced up, unimpressed. “There’s nothing I can do. The FAA has grounded all flights in this weather. I understand your frustration, but—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Paige interrupted, stepping back and glancing down the line of counters. Her eyes landed on another agent at the far end—a younger one who looked far less jaded by the onslaught of holiday travelers.

Paige approached them with a calm smile, adjusting her duffel bag on her shoulder. “Hey, uh, I’m hoping you can help me out. My flight got delayed, and I really need to get home tonight. My family’s waiting for me.”

The agent blinked up at her, their eyes widening slightly. “Wait… are you Paige Bueckers?”

Paige grinned, leaning on the counter. “Guilty.”

The agent flushed, glancing around nervously. “Wow, uh, okay. Well, all the commercial flights are grounded…”

“But?” Paige prompted, her grin widening.

“But there’s a cargo plane heading out in a couple of hours. It’s not exactly meant for passengers, but…”

“I’ll take it,” Paige said immediately.

The agent hesitated. “Are you sure? It’s not gonna be comfortable—”

“I don’t care,” Paige cut them off. “As long as it gets me home.”

—————

The cargo plane was every bit as uncomfortable as the agent had warned. Paige sat bundled in her coat, her duffel bag tucked under her feet, as the freezing air seeped through the metal walls. It didn’t matter, though. Every bump and jolt of the flight was a reminder that she was getting closer to Azzi and Evie.

When they finally touched down, Paige didn’t even wait for the engines to stop before grabbing her bag and sprinting off the plane. She flagged down a cab, her heart racing with anticipation as they drove through the snowy streets.

By the time Paige’s cab pulled up outside the house, it was nearly midnight. Snow clung to her jacket and hair as she stepped out, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder and her backpack on the other. The driveway was packed with cars, no doubt belonging to Azzi’s parents, her brothers Jose and Jon, and Paige’s little brother Drew.

She grinned, imagining the chaos waiting inside. This was family, the kind of loud, vibrant love she and Azzi thrived in.

—————

Inside the cozy home, the scene was the picture of holiday warmth. The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted from the kitchen, where Azzi’s mom was icing a batch of gingerbread men. Her dad was leaning against the counter, chatting with Drew and keeping a watchful eye on the boys—Jon and Jose—who were loudly arguing over a basketball game.

In the living room, Azzi was curled up on the couch with Evie tucked under her arm. The little girl’s head rested on her mom’s chest, her wide eyes glued to the Christmas movie playing on the TV.

Evie suddenly looked up, her pouty expression catching Azzi’s attention. “When’s Mommy coming home?” she whined.

Azzi sighed softly, brushing her fingers through Evie’s curls. “She’s trying, baby. The snow’s making it hard for her plane to fly.”

“But I want her here now,” Evie huffed, crossing her little arms over her chest.

Before Azzi could respond, the front door burst open with a gust of cold air. Everyone turned toward the entrance, startled. Paige stood there, her hair and jacket covered in snow, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and her backpack in hand. “Hi Family!” Paige grinned.

“Mommy!” Evie squealed, scrambling off the couch and sprinting across the room. She threw herself into Paige’s arms, nearly knocking her off balance.

“Hey, munchkin,” Paige said, her grin wide as she hugged Evie tightly. “I missed you.”

“You’re home!” Evie cheered, clinging to her neck.

Azzi stared from the couch, her jaw dropping slightly. “Paige?”

Paige’s blue eyes found hers, her smile softening. “Where my hug at?” she teased.

Azzi rolled her eyes, finally getting up and crossing the room. She wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck, standing on her toes to kiss her softly. “I thought your flight got delayed,” she murmured against her lips.

“It was,” Paige said, her hands settling on Azzi’s waist. “But I pulled some string y’know.”

“You pulled some strings?”, Azzi echoed, but her lips were already curving into a smile.

Paige smirked, squeezing her waist. “What can I say? I had to get home to my girls.”

“Paigey!” Drew’s voice cut through the moment, followed by the sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs. Jose and Jon were right behind him, and before Paige knew it, she was being pulled into a round of hugs and handshakes.

“Man, you’ve been gone forever,” Jose said, clapping her on the back.

“You bring us anything?” Jon added with a grin.

Drew smirked, holding his hand out. “I know you got that NIL money, P. What’s up?”

Paige laughed, shaking her head as she pointed toward Azzi. “Y’all act like Az ain’t got brand deals, too. She’s the one you should be harassing.”

Azzi crossed her arms, giving them a mock glare. “Don’t even think about it. I already bought you all a crap load of gifts,” she warned, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

—————

Hours later, after the house had finally quieted and everyone was asleep, Paige and Azzi lay tangled together in Azzi’s childhood bed. The moonlight painted soft shadows across the room, and Paige couldn’t stop herself from running her hands up and down Azzi’s sides, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath her sweatshirt.

Azzi sighed contentedly, her head resting on Paige’s chest. “You’ve gotta be exhausted,” she murmured, tracing absent patterns on Paige’s stomach with her fingers.

“I am,” Paige admitted, her voice low, “but I missed you too much to care.” She tilted her head down, brushing her lips against Azzi’s temple. “Layin’ here with you? This is all I wanted for Christmas.”

Azzi’s lips twitched into a soft smile. “Very smooth, Bueckers,” she teased, but there was no missing the way her body melted further into Paige’s.

Paige tightened her hold on her waist, her fingers dipping just under the hem of Azzi’s sweatshirt. “Smooth? Nah, I’m just honest.”

Azzi laughed quietly, a blush creeping up her neck. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Paige countered, her voice taking on a playful lilt.

Azzi tilted her head up to meet Paige’s eyes, her gaze softer now. “I do,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige smiled, brushing her nose against Azzi’s before capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. The kiss deepened quickly, Azzi’s hand sliding up to cup Paige’s cheek while Paige’s fingers splayed against her hip, pulling her closer.

Azzi broke the kiss with a gasp, her forehead resting against Paige’s as she tried to catch her breath. “Everyone’s right downstairs,” she reminded her, though her tone lacked conviction.

“So?” Paige murmured, nipping lightly at her bottom lip. “They’re asleep. You really think anyone’s gonna hear us?”

Azzi tried to keep her composure, but Paige’s hand had slipped under her sweatshirt completely, her palm pressing against bare skin. “You’re terrible,” Azzi whispered, her voice unsteady.

“Terribly in love with you,” Paige shot back, earning an eye roll that turned into a quiet laugh.

Before either of them could take things further, a faint, sleepy voice called out from the hallway. “Mommy? Mama?”

Azzi groaned, flopping onto her back as Paige chuckled under her breath. “You jinxed it,” Azzi muttered.

“Better me than her walking in on us,” Paige teased, sliding out of bed and grabbing her sweatshirt from the floor.

She opened the door to find Evie standing there in her fuzzy Christmas pajamas, clutching her favorite stuffed animal. Her hair was tousled, and her eyes were half-closed.

“What’s wrong, munchkin?” Paige asked gently, crouching down to her level.

“I had a bad dream,” Evie mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“Come here,” Paige said, scooping her up effortlessly. She carried her back to the bed, where Azzi was already holding the blankets open for her.

Evie settled between them, her tiny body curling against Paige’s side as Azzi tucked the covers around her.

“Can I stay here?” Evie asked, her voice small.

“Of course, baby,” Azzi said, kissing the top of her head.

Paige pressed a kiss to her cheek as well, her heart swelling as Evie yawned and nuzzled closer. She glanced over at Azzi, who gave her a knowing smile.

“Merry Christmas, mama,” Paige whispered, her hand reaching over to lace fingers with Azzi’s.

Azzi smiled, her thumb brushing against Paige’s knuckles. “Merry Christmas, Mommy.”

They lay there in peaceful silence, their daughter’s soft breaths filling the room. Paige thought about all the miles she’d traveled, the delays, the chaos—and how every moment of it was worth it to be right here, wrapped up in the love of her family.

˖˙ ᰋ ── taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @juspeaks @sierrale8ne @imaginespazzi @makethemhoesmad @kmoneymartini @pazzilover101 @ashortyluvsports @lupinqs @melpthatsme

[ladykailitha]

Howlin' for Yule

Hello and welcome to my Christmas AUvent Calendar! Every day from now until the 24th I will be posting a ficlet that is 500-1500 from an AU I've done over the years.

All stories will be marked with the tag #12 aus of christmas so you can follow along as I will only be tagging my permanent list for this (it would get too confusing otherwise).

The next one on our list is: Werewolf verse. You can read the story here. All links will be to the first chapter, but the chapter itself will have links to the rest of the story.

Do you know how ridiculously proud I am of that title? Do you? Because I am so damn proud of that title. Also welcome to the one that got away from me. I could have kept it short. They dance, they schmooze, and they go home.

But I wanted to write more with this one and when I realized if I wanted this to end on the 24th, I should have started on the 13th, instead of the 12th, I figured I could extend this and post it Christmas Eve.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9

~

Eddie stood in front of a mirror and fussed with his tie. He usually got a chuckle from seeing his reflection in a mirror because according to Wayne that one only became a myth recently with them no longer using silver to back them anymore. But not even that thought could bring a smile to his face.

Because he had to look super nice for his boyfriend’s big Yule Tide ‘do up at the new vampire coven’s place. After the Creel house had almost burnt down when Jason attacked, Chrissy thought it would be better to move the coven somewhere safer. Closer to civilization so that if that happened again, they could get help faster.

They had bought a beautiful mansion in Loch Nora that was able to house all the remaining members of the coven comfortably. It even had a large room just for balls. Which is what this most certainly was.

When Chrissy suggested it back in October, she had merely suggested party including the vampires and werewolves as a way to foster peace between them. But Steve, the beautiful big brained and even bigger hearted had suggested a Yule Ball for all the supernatural beings in Hawkins.

So that meant that all Eddie’s friends were going to be there and he had to look nice.

“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” Wayne groused from behind him. “Probably your own judging from the sour expression on his face.

Eddie whirled around in shock. Wayne was standing there in early 18th century clothes in golds and browns. He looked amazing. “Why can’t I look like that?!”

Wayne looked down at his attire and then back up. “Would you like to?”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “I mean we really don’t have much time to make me something like that.” He waved at Wayne’s outfit. “Because I don’t think your clothes will fit me very well.”

Wayne chuckled. “Oh ye of little faith. You take that monkey suit off, and I’ll play fairy goduncle. Go on.”

Eddie raised a questioning eyebrow but did as he was told. He hadn’t been gone two scant minutes when he came back and all the clothes were laid out on his bed. Silks, velvet, and lace all in black. He would cut a dashing figure for sure.

He hurried to get dressed and then rushed out to the front to the kitchen and poured out a bowl of milk, placing it on the windowsill.

Wayne chuckled from the living room. “She owed me a favor, but I’m sure she will appreciate the treat anyway.”

Eddie shook his head. “It’s just good manners.”

Wayne nodded solemnly. He had raised this boy right. Not just in the ways of the supernatural, but in the ways of being a good human, too.

Then the sound of horses arriving, clattered outside their window and they both exited the trailer to see an elegant coach and four black horses.

“Your boy sure has a flare for the dramatic,” Wayne huffed as he was helped into the carriage by an actual footman. Something that Wayne had never experienced in his long life.

Eddie could only agree. In the last light of the shortest day of the year, the driver and footman seemed to glimmer as though they had a glamour placed over them to look vaguely human.

They pulled up to the coven’s new home and Eddie let out a wolf whistle. “The new Dominus seems to have her own flare for the dramatic.”

“Nah,” Wayne said as he exited the carriage, “that just comes from being a vampire.”

They were shown into what Eddie could only call a ballroom. It was massive. It was currently setup with long mahogany tables with little nameplates in front of every placement. The eating utensils were gold, the glasses were crystal, and plates were fine china.

It screamed opulence and once Eddie would have turned tail and ran. But not anymore. Being a vampire changed that, for sure, but what really cinched the deal was the man, standing next to the Dominus in a beautiful red and gold outfit similar to what Wayne and Eddie were wearing.

Steve Harrington, Roane Pack Alpha.

To be continued on Dec. 24th

~

Day 11

I could have waited until the 23rd to post this one, but there was something symbolic about posting it on the day of the winter solstice. The longest night.

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[variouslengthsofwire]

I realize my answers to this make no sense.

I answered that I don’t celebrate Xmas, but I do gather with friends and have a feast, and even exchange gifts bc it’s the only day we all have off. It doesn’t feel like I’m celebrating Christmas™️ though. No tree or Xmas decorations, no carols, we wear sweatpants or whatever comfy pajamas (often with Chanukkah imagery bc those are the warmest my spouse and I have), etc. no Xmas colors or clothes. Idk, it’s just not celebrating Xmas to me. I also chose to work on Xmas eve (the actual night) this year.

I said I sometimes celebrate St. Patrick’s day bc I always wear green, this year I was on vacation and had a free green drink, and like 10 years ago I went to a party. My sister used to pinch me right when I got up in the morning when I was a kid bc my pajamas didn’t have green, so now I even wear pajamas with green the night before even though no one will pinch me. But it’s a rule that got instilled, this is the day you must wear green! The entire day!

I said I celebrate 4th of July, but I just go on my roof and watch the fireworks in my neighborhood. I wear earplugs, but I also put on a playlist of Souza songs for my mom who comes over, and I can hear them bc I have crazy good hearing. We can’t actually bbq, but I try to make (vegetarian) hot dogs or burgers on the stove and have other summer foods. I used to do more.

I often cannot tell you when it’s actually Easter. But if I do know, I’ll try to get clearance candy the next day.

Thanksgiving and Halloween I consider to be secular. My family has always done them both. New Years is also mostly going up on the roof, but I might have an alcoholic drink and I’ll deliberately stay up until midnight.

V-day, depends on time and energy. I got really into it one year with a now-ex. Made plans, tried to be all romantic, dressed cute, made heart-shaped food. But then the feelings didn’t happen bc stupid depression. It was a major letdown.

Like does celebrate mean acknowledge? Do literally anything? Is it a feeling? I voted based on feelings more than anything else.

(this is not any kind of judgment, rather curiosity)

[lesbiansanemi]

Do you think if I wish hard enough my mom will get electrocuted by a string of Christmas lights and just go up in a cloud of smoke. It’d be a Christmas miracle

[flemingology]

Hey could you maybe do a fic about reader and alexia on christmas eve where reader is very pregnant and the baby is due in a couple of weeks but it comes early (christmas eve) and there is a lot of stress and drama of course being mainly from alexia and the baby is eventually born on christmas! maybe include alexia’s family and some of the barca girls in some way? Sorry it’s so long😭

christmas came early ─ alexia putellas x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: christmas eve unexpectedly brings you and alexia the gift of new life

warnings: pregnancy (symptoms), labour (not descriptive at all lol), very fluffy

wc: 4k

a/n: i wasn't too clued up on writing labor, so i didn't. i didn't want to make it unrealistic and i was gonna get mad as hell at myself if i tried and i couldn't get it how i wanted. i hope you enjoy tho!

“Be careful,” Alexia hummed against your lips, giving you another kiss after claiming 4 times that the previous one was the last one. “I will. We will. I promise.” Your fiancée tentatively crouched down and put her hands protectively on the side of your growing bump. “Be nice to mama,” she said softly, her eyes flicking towards yours as she spoke to the little wonder growing inside of your belly. “She’s making sure you’re gonna be all strong and healthy when you’re born in a couple months.” The Spaniard finished with a soft kiss against your belly, hoisting herself back up and tenderly pressing her lips against yours. The last one, she promised, again.

You’d never get used to the sight of Alexia speaking to your bump, speaking to the little life that was growing inside of you and that was going to make you mothers. “Chop, chop. Don’t be late. I love you.” Alexia hummed in mock annoyance, but turned on her heels and stepped towards the front door. “I’ll be back for dinner. I promise.” She blew you one final kiss and then set off to the training grounds.

Ever since you found out you were pregnant, it was like someone flipped a switch within Alexia. She had always been quite protective over you, way more rooted in jealousy than she'd ever like to admit, but since you were carrying her baby, she took it to another level. Not only that, she was also preparing for motherhood like she would prepare for football games. She researched, took classes, watched youtube videos and read articles with great interest and attention, wanting to be as prepared as possible for the day your kiddo would arrive.

Part of Alexia's overprotectiveness was also rooted in the struggle you'd gone through in trying to get pregnant. Your IVF journey hadn't been the kindest on either of you. Failed attempt after failed attempt, you were nearing the brink of giving up, but on your 4th attempt it had finally stuck. You couldn't nearly express the joy that overcame the both of you, the realization dawning on you that you were going to become mothers. Together. A childhood dream that was finally coming into fruition, with the love of your life.

The first couple months, though, were hell. Headaches, dizziness, cramping, food aversions, backaches, nausea, vomiting, swelling, itching – you name it, you had it. It felt like life punching you in the face for having wished so bad to get pregnant, you had to deal with all the consequences now. Still, you took it in your stride as best as you could. You kept going to work for as long as possible (until Alexia could no longer be convinced to allow you to go), you stayed on top of your part of the chores at home, you still went to all of your wife's football games, all whilst trying to get used to and accommodate for the little life that was growing in your belly. Symptoms be damned, you were finally pregnant and you wouldn't let anything ruin your happy, little pregnant bubble.

Now, with the due date nearing, Alexia was very reluctant to leave you for training every day. You assured her time and time again that you were going to be fine, your mum and Eli both had their phones on them at all times for if you were to call with an emergency. A well-packed hospital bag had been sitting by the door since a couple weeks (way too early but you gave in when Alexia had been pacing around the house for the best part of an hour instead of sleeping), so you were good to go to the hospital if necessary. The staff at Barcelona kept Alexia's phone with them at all times, so that a potential call wouldn’t go lost in an empty dressing room.

Christmas was nearing, though, and even though your wife was reluctant to agree, you'd invited Ingrid and Mapi over for a Christmas dinner. You were still a couple weeks from your due date, so you assured her you'd be fine. You opted to stay at home rather than going out, Ingrid and Alexia deciding they would cook the meals for the evening so you could lay back and relax. There were a couple times in the running up to the holidays that Alexia tried to convince you to blow off the plans you'd made, but you insisted you didn't. As much as you couldn't wait to meet the little baby growing in your belly, you didn't want to miss out on your final Christmas Eve with just your fiancée because of her stubborn overprotectiveness.

–

Alexia got up with the reflexes of a cat when the bell rang, glaring down at you as you also tried to get up. You didn't fight back and plopped yourself back down on the couch, too tired and too big a belly to really argue her point. Preparations for tonight hadn't been smooth sailing, in all honesty. You'd been hit quite bad with some of the third trimester symptoms lately, especially the Braxton Hicks had majorly upped in frequency. They were very short, only mildly uncomfortable and infrequent as you started to get them, but now only three weeks from your due date, the tightening sensations in your uterus lasted longer, were more painful and came in a steady frequency.

Your fiancée uncoordinatedly ran around the house all afternoon, trying her best to balance preparations for Christmas Eve and a very pregnant, slightly annoyed girlfriend to the best of her abilities. She managed, though, and you never really doubted that she wouldn't. If you had to describe your lover in one word, it would surely be determined. Whether it came to football, or taking care of you, or arranging your shoes on the shoe rack with meticulous, millimetered precision – she didn't do things half-assed. It was all or nothing for the Spanish midfielder.

The table was set, wine was cooled (lemon water for you, seemingly your latest craving), some preparations for dinner had started, presents were on the coffee table, soft music was playing from the speakers around the apartment, the mood lights were on, Alexia did good. More than good, and it settled half your nerves for the evening. You hated that you couldn't help her, that you were bound to the sofa. But even if she allowed you to help, you would probably not be able to find the energy to get up and run around the place.

You heard some muffled voices coming from the hall, moving to sit slightly more upright, but you got caught out by another Braxton Hick. You winced slightly and rubbed your hand over your swollen bump, closing your eyes and trying to control your breathing.

"Amor, are you okay?" Alexia's worried voice rang through the living room as the three of them entered the living room. You took another deep breath before replying, the contraction easing away as you finally sat up a little more. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Ale. Just another Braxton Hick." You mustered up a small smile, and if Alexia sensed the worry in your expression, she didn't say anything about it. They'd been more frequent than ever before today, and it was worrying you slightly. You tried to push away the thoughts, though, excited to celebrate Christmas Eve with your fiancée and two of your best friends.

The night went on smoothly. Conversation flowed easily, as it always did between the four of you, and Ingrid and Alexia cooked up a delicious meal. The girls each made a dish from their respective home countries, Alexia making Catalan escudella – a meat stew with sausage, and Ingrid made pinnekjøtt, lamb prepared in a way that you tried your best to remember, but couldn't try to remake even if you tried. The table was filled with all kinds of deliciousness, and you felt genuinely happy. The Winter holidays had always been your favorite period of the year, so to be celebrating it with some of the most important people in your life, felt great.

It wasn't until later that evening that you all found yourself on the sofa again and got to opening presents. You all promised one another that you wouldn't go overboard with anything, but no one wanted to come up empty-handed. Mapi gifted you and Alexia a tiny little Barcelona shirt with your fiancée's name on the back, a baby Adidas tracksuit and then also some scented candles and incense sticks for around the apartment. You and Alexia bought Mapi and Ingrid a gift card from this art store they'd been wanting to buy something from the past couple months, and a couple bottles of fine Spanish wine.

The four of you lounged on the sofa, enjoying each other's company as the evening ticked away. You were taking a moment to yourself to appreciate your surroundings; your cozy apartment made even warmer by three of the most important people in your life, with a little baby growing in your belly, that'd been growing safe and healthy inside of you for the past 37 weeks. The warm laughter of your fiancée rang through your place and you felt fuzzy inside, taking a deep breath and enjoying the moment. Your state of bliss got abruptly interrupted, though, by another Braxton Hick. Or so you thought. Your wince didn't go unnoticed by your invitees, their conversation quieting down as they glanced over at you. "All good, baby?" Alexia said softly, as she put a hand on the small of your back.

You were about to tell her you were fine, that it was probably just another practice contraction, until you could feel something warm and wet between your legs. You thought you were imagining things, but it was there. It was definitely there. "Ale," you breathed, trying to compose yourself before you set off the whole house with what you were about to say. "I think my water broke." You opened your eyes just enough to see how Alexia's widened, her mouth opening and closing a couple times, seemingly rooted to her spot on the sofa.

"Joder," she murmured, "you're not due another three weeks!" You winced as another contraction came, doubling over to the best of your abilities with your pregnant bump in the way. "Vale, Alexia, do something!" You heard Ingrid say, ushering your fiancée to stand up and get the hospital bag. "Come here, love, I'll help you stand up and we'll get you to the car." Ingrid's soothing voice grounded you slightly, and you looked up at her with a worried expression. "I'm not due another three weeks," you mumbled. "That's okay. Your baby has been growing fine as it should be, so this won't be a problem. Three weeks isn't all that bad. You'll be fine. But you have to go to the hospital, okay? Take my hand." You did as the Norwegian told and gripped her hand like a vice, not missing the wince shooting across her face but not bothered enough to care. You stood up with Ingrid's aid and looked at the wet spot on the sofa, another confirmation that you really weren't imagining things. Your baby was on its way.

Ingrid led you towards the front door of your apartment while Mapi called the elevator up, the both of them wanting to get you downstairs and in the car as quick as possible. You heard rummaging around behind you, probably Alexia rushing around the place trying to get everything that was necessary.

She had never been as nervous as she was now. Not during Champions League finales, not while taking game-winning penalty kicks, not at the World Cup, no. Nothing would ever compare to the stress she felt right now. The hospital bag that had been sat at the door for weeks seemingly didn't have everything, according to Alexia's thoughts (it definitely had way more than necessary, but you didn't have the heart to tell her that), so she haphazardly threw in some more stuff that she could find around the house. Why you'd need a cutting board, she doesn't know. She still threw it in there. A mop? Probably handy for something, no? She threw the door to your apartment closed behind her and rushed downstairs, Ingrid and Mapi already helping you in the car as she threw the bag in the trunk and rushed over to the driver side.

"Stay with her, Ingrid," Alexia said. "Hold her hand in the back seat, por favor." Your fiancée's voice was laced with worry, but you couldn't find it in you to try and console her. You knew she didn't have to rush like was doing right now, it was going to be hours before you'd actually go into labor, but the contractions were getting more frequent and were definitely getting more painful, leaving you speechless and crushing Ingrid's hand. Mapi sat next to Alexia in the passenger seat and you were slowly realizing that probably wasn't the best of ideas, the two women both as nervous as each other and not helping one another in the slightest at calming down.

The ride to the hospital was less than smooth, and you could hear Ingrid scolding Alexia every couple minutes for her driving. She was speeding, definitely also crossed a red light, traffic fines be damned. You arrived in 12 minutes, 5 minutes less than it'd took the last time you practiced the drive to the hospital. Alexia stepped out of her driver seat and rushed to the other side of the car, helping Ingrid with getting you out of the backseat of her car. "Lean on me, amor, it's not far, okay?" You were relatively sure you would be able to keep yourself standing, but the idea of leaning your body weight into your fiancée was to enticing to turn down.

Once you were inside and registered, everything went by in a flurry. You were led to a room where you'd have to wait until you had enough dilation to actually go into labour. You went from contraction to contraction, each one getting worse than the other, up to the point where you felt like you had to get your baby out. They had completely dropped, and you could feel them pushing against your underside. The waiting felt endless, and you felt like an eternity went by until you were finally cleared to go into labour. It had been an eternity to be fair, having had to wait the best part of 5 hours.

Alexia stayed with you during labour, whispering words of affirmation and motivation in your ear whilst you worked your way through birthing your baby. It was rough, painful, hard, it was ugly. You screamed, cried, yelled, you got angry, but it was all for a good cause. You were pretty sure that you bruised Alexia's hand as you held it through it all, but not a fiber in your body could be bothered with anything but pushing the human past your lips out of your belly into the world.

At 4:03am, you finally did it. You felt like a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You had successfully birthed your little baby, and they were healthy. Alexia got to cut the umbilical cord, something she felt quite apprehensive about, but an experience she wouldn't want to trade for the world. "Mi amor, you did it, look at him." Alexia leaned her forehead against yours as the nurses were cleaning up your son, preparing him for some skin-to-skin contact in a couple moments. You closed your eyes and breathed her in, a small smile forming on your lips despite the heavy exhaustion that rested on your limbs. "Sorry about your hand," you whispered. "No sorry. I'll let you bruise my hand a thousand times if that means we get to have a healthy son."

You felt an overwhelming sense of gratification and love as Alexia pressed a tender kiss against your forehead. You stayed like that for a couple moments, until the nurses finished cleaning up your son and waddling him in a little blanket. Now came a time what they called the golden hour, a critical moment for the newborn and their mother to bond. Your son was softly placed on your chest, your hands being guided to support him and his head appropriately. He stirred a little, but seemed to find a comfortable position to rest in, and seemed to fall asleep quite quickly. You felt tears well up in your eyes at the perfect sight in front of you. Finally, after trying for so long, you had a perfectly healthy baby laying on your bare chest. It was yours. Yours and Alexia's.

You cradled his head and kept him close to you while he slept, your fingers trailing across his tiny body. "He's so small," you whispered. You looked up at Alexia when you didn't get a response, noticing her sitting on the chair next to your bed, with unshed tears in her eyes. "Oh, baby," you cooed, holding out your unoccupied hand for her to take. She intertwined her fingers with yours and brought your hand up to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss against it. "You did it," she mumbled, repeating the same words from before. You chuckled. "Yeah, I did," you spoke softly. You stayed in silence for some time until your son started to stir a little. The nurses had said that he'd probably not be able to sleep for too long before he'd have to eat.

"I think he's hungry, Ale." The brunette perked up and stood from the chair, accompanying you by the side of the bed. "Want me to call a nurse? Or will you manage yourself?" You contemplated the options. "You should call a nurse. Just to be sure." It didn't take long for someone to arrive in the room, and she assured you that you did the right thing by calling someone over. With the help of the nurse you unbuttoned the hospital robe further and helped your son settle against your exposed breast, guiding his head to your nipple. He latched on immediately, and an unfamiliar feeling overcame you as you felt his little mouth sucking on your nipple. "Are you okay, bebé?" You nodded, relaxing a little deeper into the bed and holding your son tight against you so he could nurse. Alexia watched on in awe as you fed your newborn baby. She was amazed by everything that was happening, by her child, by you. More tears welled up in her eyes as she watched you nurse him, feeling overwhelmed by the love for her newfound family. She cupped the back of your head with her hand and guided your face towards hers, locking gazes. "You're incredible. Te amo." You smiled brightly at your fiancée and responded, "I love you so much."

The rest of the night went on smoothly, and by the time the clock hit 5:30 you were all settled again. Your son had nursed perfectly, settling some of the nerves you'd had around the whole feeding process. The nurse assured that everything was fine with him, and also gave the okay to Alexia to take him from you if she wanted to. She hesitated, worried that she in some way would break him if she took him away from your chest. "Bebé, what if I drop him?" You withheld a chuckle, quickly realizing that she was being way more serious than you thought she was. "Alexia, you won't drop him. I promise you. You're going to do so good." You tried to reassure her, but her eyes were still laced with worry as she leaned over to you. You let her take him from you, guiding her hands and arms to support his body and his head appropriately, and then she was holding him. She was holding him. In her arms. He slightly stirred, both you and Alexia holding your breath as he let out a little cry, but he quickly settled against her chest, breathing out a deep sigh.

You stared at the scene in front of you like a lovesick puppy, and you weren't sure anything in your life would ever top the way you felt right now. In front of you was your fiancée, soon-to-be wife, who was holding your son, your little wonder that you had the privilege of carrying for the past 37 weeks. In this moment, you couldn't imagine that you ever even contemplated giving up on your IVF journey. Then you wouldn't have had the pleasure to extend your family of 2 into a very happy family of 3. "He's so perfect," Alexia whispered, carefully not to wake up your son. She softly traced a finger over his face, his tiny nose, down to his tummy. "So small." She continued her path down to his legs and then his sock-covered feet, admiring the way they both fit right into her hand.

"Want me to call the girls over?" You questioned softly, not wanting to ruin the moment, but Alexia had told you earlier that Mapi and Ingrid were still waiting in the waiting room and you didn't want to hold them from any sleep any longer than you had to. They were professional athletes at last, and even though they were on a break, it wasn't the best for them to be out of their sleep rhythm for this long. "Sí, you can call them." You did, and it didn't take much longer than a minute for the two girls to enter your room.

You met their gazes and noticed how tears welled up in both their eyes, seeing their ever so stern captain holding her son with so much love and adoration in her eyes. "Dios mío, es tan pequeño," Mapi whispered, slowly inching closer to where Alexia was stood, close to your bed. You could see the tiredness etched across their face, but neither Mapi nor Ingrid would've missed this moment for a lifetime. "What's his name?" Ingrid asked, her gaze pointed towards you. "James."

You and Alexia had disagreed on everything until you found the name you eventually agreed on. She didn't like what you liked, and you didn't like what she liked. But when you stumbled across James, a Hebrew name with Greek roots, the equivalent of Jaume, your minds were made up.

"James", Mapi whispered, leaning over your son and softly tracing along his nose with your finger. "He's perfect, wow. Congratulations to both of you. You're going to be amazing parents."

You soaked up the love from the moment. The clock was nearing 6 now, and you were beyond exhausted, but the sight of your fiancée cradling your son close to her chest is what kept you going. Your little Christmas miracle. You wouldn't change it for the world.

[iwas-princess]

suna rintaro • christmas eve princess

“c’mon, baby. don’t be like that.”

you huffed back at your boyfriend, your arms crossed over your chest as you childishly pouted. you walked ahead of him, continuing your journey to the passenger seat of his luxury car.

“hey, sweetheart, stop.” he chuckled as you continued to ignore him.

the silent treatment that you played didn’t let up as you neared his car in the store’s packed parking lot, much to his dismay. he stayed behind you, his large hands filled with your family’s christmas gifts you both had just purchased last minute.

it started out small, this argument did.

suna, ever the lazy man he is, pushed aside gift buying for weeks as your schedule filled once finals season approached, resulting in your shopping to begin the night before christmas. to say that you were irritated would be an understatement when you found that there were no gifts to wrap.

you wanted to kill rintaro, and even contemplated makibg sleep on the couch for a week— but it was christmas eve and even though he was annoying, you still wanted nothing more than to be near him during this holiday season.

angry or not.

as you approached your passenger door, you turned around briefly to take one look at him.

his hair was collecting snowflakes, the jet black locks speckled with white fuzz beautifully. his strong arms were carrying two heavy bags and one large electronic box for your younger sibling, and although he looked as if the items were nothing compared to him, you could tell that he was struggling slightly to carry them all in this cold, and his long fingers were most likely numb from the cold.

“wait, just a second. you know that you’re not allowed to open your own door; that’s my job.” suna corrected as your glove clad hand reached the car door handle.

you rolled your eyes, but felt your heart warm a few temperatures at his manners.

“let me just set these in the trunk and i’ll get you in that nice and toasty car, ‘kay? don’t want my princess getting too cold.” he explained as he popen the trunk, and carefully set the gifts in there.

you waited patiently, frustrated at him, but nevertheless ignored him still.

he tucked his frozen hands in his pockets breifly as he walked around the your side of the car, sending a flirty wink your way as he watched your eyes follow his moves briefly before looking off in the distance.

“i saw that, pretty girl.” he chuckled under his breath as he reached you.

the close proximity of him suddenly, caused a warm feeling to envelop your cold body. his scent filled your lungs as you breathed in the harsh air, your eyes nearly rolling back at the smell.

he was intoxicating.

his bare hand covered yours to gain your attention, wanting nothing more than to see your eyes on him once more— those pretty eyes that he adored.

when you didn’t budge, he let out an airy laugh at your behavior,

“sweetie, c’mon. look at me…” his voice was nearly teasing, catlike in every way as he spoke.

“what?” you harshly huffed out.

“ah, there she is. there’s your pretty voice that i missed so much.” he gently cooed at you. you found it condescending.

“what do you want, rintaro? i’m cold.” you were icy cold when you asked him, your voice cruel.

he ignored your attitude, tucking a loose strand behind your ear before caging you against the car door.

“rintaro! what is wrong with you? i’m freezing and i have to go home and wrap presents because you,” you shoved your finger against his coat covered chest. “didn’t tell me that we didn’t have any until last minute! now, i’m going to be exhausted all fucking day tomorrow because i’ll go to bed late”.

he smirked as you shouted quietly at him, careful not to make a scene.

he didn’t want to invalidate you in anyway, because he knew very well that he fucked up this year, but something about how adorable you looked in your puffy coat he bought you had his heart bursting. you looked so damn cute, exclaiming about your worries while you dressed warmly. your cheeks were flushed from the harsh cold, your nose beginning to run as well.

you had his whole heart and you didn’t even realize it.

you noticed the smug look on his face, immediately resulting in a punch to his shoulder.

he hissed in pain lowly, his broad body flinching back slightly before the hand covering yours nursed the now sore muscle.

“ouch, baby. that was awfully mean of you, don’t you think?”

you huffed in annoyance before turning around and opening the door yourself. but, just as you opened it, your boyfriend was quick to shut it with his knee.

“hey! what is your-“

he face leaned closer to yours, his cold nose touching your own freezing one. his dark eyes bored into yours and his lips brushed against yours gently.

“you know only i open this door for you, no one else. not even you.” he whispered darkly, his voice raspy.

you nodded slowly, allowing him to reach next to you and open the door back open for you, his eyes never leaving yours. he backed up enough for the door to fully open.

“go in.”

you obeyed reluctantly. you slid into the luxurious car, the soft heated cushions welcoming you happily with comforting warmth. you let out a satisfied sigh at the feeling, before turning your attention back to your doting boyfriend. he leaned in towards you slowly, your breath hitched as his torso entered the warm car. his face became nothing but a few inches away from yours, giving you the impression that he was going to give you a forgiving kiss. but instead, he reached a few inches behind him, and pulled the seatbelt around your lap before buckling it.

“gotta keep my little princess safe, don’t i? these roads are icy, brat.”

you nodded along, at loss for words.

“suna?” you called out after a few moments of thought as he was exiting the vehicle.

he stopped momentarily, crouching over slightly to hear and look at you as you spoke.

“kiss me.” you whispered.

he smiled wide, and if his cheeks weren’t frostkissed you could’ve seen the blush that creeped upon him at your words.

“of course.”

[meazalykov]

tis the season

lea schuller x nwsl!reader

summary: surprises are apart of the christmas holiday

for @katelynnwrites

it’s two weeks before christmas when you make the final arrangements to fly back to munich.  

the lie comes easily when you’re on the phone with lea, her voice soft and slightly tired after a long training day.

“i wish i could come,” you say, shifting on your couch as you stare at the tickets on your coffee table. 

“but the pride has me doing all this promotional stuff… media shoots, a kid’s camp, the whole thing. you know how the off-season is over here in america.”

lea hums on the other end, a pause where you can tell she’s disappointed but trying to understand. “it’s okay,” she replies, though her voice says otherwise. “i know you’re busy.”

“you’re mad,” you tease lightly, trying to keep things playful so she doesn’t linger on it too much.

“i’m not mad,” she sighs, but you can practically see the pout on her face through the phone. 

“i just miss you. christmas is better with you here.”

its time likes this when you regret leaving germany to pursue the more competitive league. yes, you weren't getting much play time at bayern (now being a starter for orlando and winning the league and championship) but at least you had your lea there with you.

“i miss you too, sonnenschein,” you reply softly, a pang of guilt settling in your chest. 

you’re lying to lea, but for a good reason—one she’ll never see coming.

getting obi on board with your plan was surprisingly easy.

“so you’re telling me you’re flying back to propose to lea,” she says when you call her later that evening. you can practically hear the grin on her face.

“yeah,” you laugh nervously. “she has no idea. i’m gonna need your help sneaking around though… like a lot of help. can i stay at yours when i get in? i just need her to not know i’m there until christmas eve.”

“obviously,” obi replies immediately. 

“this is gonna be so fun. she’s gonna kill me when she finds out i knew, but it’ll be worth it.”

“she’ll forgive you,” you grin.

obi laughs. “maybe. just don’t mess up the proposal, y/n.”

“not a chance,” you say confidently, though your heart starts pounding at the thought of the big moment.

when you arrive in munich two days before christmas eve, obi picks you up from the airport. the cold air hits you immediately, a stark contrast to florida’s weather, but it doesn’t bother you. 

the city feels like home, even though you left for the opportunities in the nwsl. your chest tightens a little as you pass familiar streets and shops on the way to obi’s apartment.

“she thinks you’re still in orlando, right?” obi asks as she pulls your suitcase into her building’s elevator.

“yep,” you confirm, stretching your arms after the long flight. 

“we talked last night. she said she’s just decorating and baking for her christmas party. apparently she invited half the bayern team.”

obi grins. “you’ll have quite the audience, then.”

“i’m not nervous about the crowd,” you lie, though your stomach flips just thinking about it.

“i’ll believe that when i see it,” obi teases, unlocking her apartment door. 

“just keep quiet while we’re here. she’ll come looking for me eventually, and i’m a terrible liar.”

“got it,” you reply, plopping onto her couch. “and thanks again for this.”

“anything for my bestfriend and her lover,” obi says dramatically, earning an eye roll from you. but you smile anyway.

it’s christmas eve, two hours into lea’s party, when you arrive at the building you once called home. obi’s beside you, grinning like an accomplice in a heist. you take a deep breath as you stare up at the lit windows of lea’s apartment. 

inside, you can hear music playing and faint bursts of laughter—probably giulia or sydney causing chaos.

“ready?” obi asks, handing you a santa hat to wear.

“ready,” you exhale.

obi opens the door, and the warmth hits you immediately as you step inside. for a moment, you’re frozen in place. the room is full of people—some of your old teammates, like tuva and giulia, as well as other familiar faces from bayern. 

sydney spots you first, her face lighting up in pure shock as she nudges giulia beside her.

“y/n?!” sydney shouts, grabbing everyone’s attention. all at once, heads turn your way, and chaos ensues.

“are you kidding me?” giulia shrieks, pulling you into a hug that nearly knocks you over.

“what are you doing here?!” sydney adds, squeezing your arm as she laughs.

“merry christmas?” you offer, grinning as tuva joins the dogpile of hugs. you’re swarmed by familiar faces, everyone excited and surprised to see you back in munich.

across the room, by the tv, you finally spot lea. she’s standing there frozen, eyes wide, her lips slightly parted in disbelief. you can’t help but laugh at her stunned expression.

“did you know about this?” lea asks obi, her voice loud enough to carry over the chatter.

obi raises her hands defensively. “maybe,” she replies with a smirk.

lea gives her a light punch on the shoulder, shaking her head with a small smile.

when you’re finally done greeting everyone, you turn your focus to her. the room seems to blur as you make your way over, her eyes never leaving yours.

“hi,” you say softly, pulling her into a hug. she holds you tightly, her face buried in your shoulder as she exhales shakily.

“you lied to me,” she murmurs into your ear, though her voice holds no anger—just relief.

“i did,” you admit, kissing her temple. 

“but it was for a good reason.”

she pulls back slightly to look at you, eyes narrowed playfully. 

“you’re lucky i love you.”

“i know,” you grin, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before leading her toward the couch.

the evening feels like stepping back into a life you still hold close to your heart. you sit beside lea, your legs tangled as the two of you share cookies from a festive tray. her hand rests lazily on your knee as sam and georgia argue over which holiday movie to put on. 

the room smells like cinnamon and pine, the soft hum of laughter filling the spaces between conversations.

it’s like you never left.

after a while, when the last of lea’s guests filter out just after midnight, you watch as she shuts the door, her movements slow as if the weight of the evening is finally catching up with her.

you finally got to say goodbye to obi, who gave you a hidden smirk before walking about the door. 

“i didn’t think i’d see you this christmas,” she says softly, turning to face you. her smile is small but filled with warmth.

“i didn’t want to miss it,” you reply, standing up to meet her in the center of the living room. the apartment feels quiet now, the twinkle lights casting a soft glow across the space.

she steps closer, her arms wrapping around your waist. 

“well, i’m glad you’re here.”

you take a deep breath, your heart pounding as you reach for her hands, gently pulling them away so you can hold them in yours. she frowns slightly, confused by the sudden seriousness in your expression.

“i need to talk to you about something,” you say quietly, meeting her gaze.

“go ahead,” lea swallows nervously.

“lea… ever since i met you back in 2020, i knew you’d be someone important to me,” you begin, your voice steady but soft. 

“at first, it was just your smile—you were so confident, so full of life when you came from essen while I came from freiburg. then i got to know you a bit more as the first season together went on, and i realized just how special you are. you’re strong, lea. not just on the pitch, but as a person. you always take care of everyone else, even when you don’t have to. you have the biggest heart, and you love so deeply… being with you has made me better in every way.”

you pause to take a breath, feeling the emotion swell in your chest. lea’s eyes are wide, her hands squeezing yours tightly. you can see the tears already gathering at the edges of her lashes, but she doesn’t say anything—she just lets you speak.

“even after i left for orlando, even with the distance, we’ve stayed strong. you’ve been my home, no matter where i am. and i want to make that official. i want to spend the rest of my life with you, lea.”

you release one of her hands to reach behind you, pulling the small velvet box from your pocket. your heart pounds as you slowly drop to one knee, your gaze never leaving hers.

lea gasps softly, her hands covering her mouth. you smile up at her, your typical confident smirk softening into something far more tender.

“so,” you say, voice light but full of emotion, “will you marry me, sonnenschein?”

“you’re… you’re insane,” she breathes, reaching into her jogger pocket. your eyes widen as she pulls out her own velvet box, and suddenly she’s dropping to one knee as well.

you freeze, blinking at her in disbelief. 

“lea, what…?”

she laughs softly, tears brimming in her eyes as she mirrors your position. 

“you think you’re the only one who plans things, liebe?” her voice is shaky, her smile trembling as she opens the box in her hands, revealing a ring that catches the warm glow of the twinkle lights.

“i’ve been carrying this for weeks,” she admits, her cheeks flushed. 

“i thought about waiting until you came back to munich for the next international break… but now you’re here. and i don’t want to wait anymore.”

there’s a moment where neither of you say anything, both of you kneeling on the living room floor, tears streaming down your faces as you stare at each other. your heart is pounding so hard you think she can hear it.

“so,” she continues, her voice soft, steady despite her shaking hands, 

“if you’ll marry me… then yes, y/n, i’ll marry you.”

“you’re proposing to me while i’m proposing to you?” you choke out, a watery laugh escaping as you wipe at your face.

“looks like it,” she grins through her tears.

you don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re both laughing and crying, holding each other as the rings sit forgotten between you. you pull back just enough to look at her, cupping her face as you whisper, “yes, sonnenschein. a thousand times yes.”

“and yes to you, liebe,” she replies, leaning in to press her forehead against yours.

your hands are trembling as you both reach for the rings, and you can’t help but laugh when neither of you can slide them on properly at first. “stop shaking!” you tease, though you’re no better, fumbling with her finger as you finally slide the ring into place.

“you’re shaking too,” she fires back, laughing as she slips the band onto your hand with care. for a moment, you both just stare at each other’s hands, the weight of the moment settling in.

“we’re really doing this,” you whisper.

“we are,” she murmurs, smiling softly.

you don’t know who leans in first, but the kiss that follows is deep, filled with every unspoken word, every long mile you’ve spent apart, and every promise of the future you’re now building together. 

when you finally pull away, your cheeks are wet, her eyes shining as she looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“merry christmas, y/n,” she whispers.

“merry christmas, lea,” you reply, your voice soft, steady, and full of love.

masterlist

[janeyseymour]

Never in a Million Years, Unless... part 4, final

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: melissa schemmenti said she’d never do a lot of things. until you come along.

WC: ~3.05k

The idea of planning a wedding with Melissa is easy enough. While she’s the one who had proposed marriage, she’s done this before- you haven’t. So, while her hand is in the mix when it comes to decisions, it’s mostly what you want. She’ll put her two sense in when she deems it necessary, but for the most part, it’s you. 

You won’t lie, you’re exhausted over all of the wedding planning on top of teaching. Pulling off a wedding is long and hard. Nights usually end in you falling asleep with various papers scattered over you, a mix of papers to look through for the wedding and IEP papers for your students. You’re exhausted throughout the weekdays, and weekends that were once spent lazing around and soaking up any energy you could for the upcoming week are replaced with going to different venues, different fittings, various tastings��

But that day comes and goes. Mr. Johnson walks Melissa down the aisle, your own father walks you down. Jacob ends up officiating the wedding, being something of a son to your now wife. Barbara stands at the redhead’s side, while you have Janine standing by yours. You’re officially Mrs. Schemmenti. The plaque by your doors change from ‘Ms. Schemmenti’ and ‘Ms. Y/N’ to ‘Mrs. Schemmenti’s outside of both of your classrooms. The rings that you wear stay on your fingers and sparkle brightly. 

Not much changes in all actuality. Before the two of you officially decided to tie the knot, you were essentially married anyway. The two of you still live the lives that you did as girlfriends.

About a year goes by as married women before your mother begins asking you again when you’ll have a child on Christmas Eve.

“Mom,” you sigh out softly from your place beside Melissa. Her hand lays gently on your thigh.

“I’ll I’m saying is-”

“I don’t know that we want kids, Mom,” you tell your mother very flatly. “We both have a lot going on with the kids at school as it is.”

That first statement doesn’t necessarily tell the whole truth. You would like to have children of your own. But you know that your wife doesn’t- that topic was one that you spoke about in detail when you were getting serious. 

“Those aren’t kids that I get to spoil though,” your mother argues back.

You have to bite your tongue from lashing out on the holiday, but your wife just chuckles from beside you, squeezing your leg gently. “We’ll see,” is all she says before dotting a few warm kisses to the side of your head.

You turn to look at her with furrowed brows, and she just gives you a smile that tells you that you’ll speak about it later.

Of course, you both get swept up in holiday traditions, and the topic of potentially having children of your own doesn’t come up again that day. You’re both exhausted by the festivities, and you’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

But come Christmas Day, you’re settling on your couch in the living room again with a stack of presents for each other.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” Melissa tells you softly as she hands you the last present that she has for you.

Your eyes sparkle with love for the redhead that you’re lucky enough to call your wife. “Hun, you already got me enough.”

“Just open this one,” she prompts. “I think you’ll like it.”

With a lifted brow, you begin to carefully unwrap the present, and when you open the box, there’s a few things in it.

a stuffed bear and a… a onesie?

“Mel, what?” you turn to look at the woman sitting next to you. “What is this?”

You know she isn’t pregnant. There’s physically no possible way for either of you to be pregnant at this moment.

“I’m ready.”

Your eyes immediately begin to well with tears. “Mel, I-” You wipe at your eyes frantically as you continue to look at the items in the box. You pull them out carefully to get a better look at them. They’re- they’re absolutely precious.

“Mel, you told me-”

“I told you a lot of things,” your wife says softly as she reaches up to brush away the remaining tears from your cheeks. “I told you I would never date a coworker, I told you I would never get married again, I told you I wouldn’t ever take the plastic off my couches or lamp. Didn’t I do all those things anyway?”

“Y-yeah,” you choke out.

“You’re the miracle in my life, babe,” Melissa tells you with conviction. She leans in to kiss you gently. “So, what if I changed my mind on this one thing too?”

Your arms around your wife tightly, tears clouding your eyes again as you truly realize that she’s serious about having a baby with you if you’re ready. “Really?”

“Really,” the redhead mumbles into your hair. “I know you want at least one, and I- I’m ready to take that on, as long as it’s with you.”

And so, once the holiday season is over, you begin to pour over your options in terms of how you want to go about attempting to have a child. It does sadden you slightly that the two of you can’t make a baby on your own- that this child will not have the DNA that your wife does entirely- but one of her brothers is more than willing to help you with this affair.

The only person aside from your brother in-law to know is Barbara Howard. Melissa and you confide in her quietly during a professional development day when you both seem more stressed than usual.

“Melissa, dear,” the kindergarten teacher knocks on her doorframe softly. She had really only come down to see if the three of you were going to lunch like you usually do on these days, but what she had walked into was not what she was expecting to see. Where your wife would usually be scrolling on her phone, glasses on the tip of her nose, because she was caught up with her work, Barbara sees the redhead with her head in her hands, fingers entangled in the curls. Where you would be humming quietly as you plan for the next coming days, you’re near tears.

“Girls?” your grade level partner comes into the room and shuts the door behind her. “Is now not a good time?”

That gets your wife to look up, although you continue to stare down at the papers in front of you.

“Melissa, what’s going on?” Barbara treads lightly.

“Stressed to hell and back,” your wife grumbles. “Trying to-” She glances to you. “Trying to have a baby is… good lord.”

Brown eyes widen, and perfectly sculpted brows creep up the kindergarten teacher’s face. “What?”

“We haven’t told anyone,” you whisper. “But I- we’re trying to get pregnant, and it’s… it’s just been a lot.”

Barbara nods sympathetically and pulls you into a warm hug. “I understand that. I’m sorry it’s been so hard.”

“Three treatments,” you sniffle out. “We have one more shot, and then we won’t have the money to try again for… for a long time.”

“Oh honey,” the kindergarten teacher whispers as she rubs circles on your back. “Sweetheart.”

“I- I don’t know what we’re doing wrong,” you mumble into her shoulder.

Melissa groans again. “I told you, you ain’t doin’ anything wrong. I don’t know how many fuckin’ times I have to tell you that.”

“Melissa,” Barb tries to cut in. 

“It just- it takes time. And maybe now isn’t our time,” your wife continues.

You whip around and look at her, tears and remnants of mascara streaming down her face. “Is our time going to come then? What if it doesn’t? We’ve been through this three times, we’re- we’re running out of time!”

Green eyes meet yours, and you can tell that she’s ready to fight fire with fire, but at your heartbroken look, she softens. “Honey.”

“I can’t keep doing this!” you cry. “I- I can’t! Do you know the toll that it’s taking on me, physically and mentally? I-” you lose yourself to tears, hugging yourself and not even bothering to wipe at your eyes anymore. There’s no use.

Melissa sighs and she makes her way over to you, wrapping you up in her own arms. “Mi amore.”

“I- I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” your wife tells you softly as she kisses your temple. “I’m the one who should be sorry… I shouldn’t have started swearing.”

You chuckle through your thick tears. “Maybe not.”

“I’ll be sure to pray over the two of you,” Barb promises. “I’ll leave you be for now.”

“We’re still going to lunch, right?” You look up. “I- I think we could all use some time out of this damned building.”

“If that’s what you want,” your counterpart tells you. “But I also won’t say nothin’ if you two decide to just go home at lunch… not like Ava’s here to notice anyway, and I know the two of you are all caught up on your work.”

Your wife’s eyes twinkle with just a bit of mischief. “We might sneak out then, if that’s alright with you.”

“I’ll swear Janine to secrecy and take her out to lunch as a bribe,” Barbara chuckles as she turns on her heel.

“Thank you,” you call softly as you wipe your nose with a tissue.

“Of course,” your grade partner replies. Then she turns back to face you. “And hey, I’ll be praying for you.”

When the rest of the crew sees you and Melissa leaving the school with all of your bags come lunch time, well… Barbara Howard is there to shoot them daggers and dare them to challenge her authority in not saying anything.

By the time your fourth and final appointment comes around, you and your wife had made peace with the fact that it just may not be in the cards for you to have a child of your own this way. You’ve discussed other options- adoption, foster care. No matter what, the two of you have decided that whatever happens is okay. There’s no more stress around it.

You leave the appointment not feeling any different than you had before you had gone in. Time will just have to tell.

The time comes for you to take that damned test again, and you really aren’t expecting anything to come from it.

“Whatever happens, happens,” you sigh as take the test from your wife’s hand. She kisses you softly and nods before you disappear behind the door.

You do your business, set it on the counter, start your timer, and then walk out of the room. You can’t just sit there for the next five minutes dwelling on it.

“I love you,” Melissa whispers as she takes you into her arms gently.

“I love you too,” you mumble as you sit down on the bed.

The next few minutes feel like hours as you mindlessly scroll through social media. But then your phone starts to buzz, signifying the time is up, and your fate is in the bathroom.

You take a deep, fortifying breath to steady yourself. Melissa just squeezes your shoulder gently before the two of you make your way out of your bedroom and into the bathroom.

“Are you ready?” the redhead asks you softly.

You shrug. “I have to be, right?”

“Whatever it says, we’re going to be okay,” Melissa promises you. “No matter what.”

Neither of you makes a move towards the test.

“Can you look at it?” you ask as you hug yourself tightly. “I- I’m nervous.”

“Yeah,” your wife sighs softly. “I can look.”

You turn your back to the test, facing the mirror, although you keep your eyes down. You don’t want to see the look of disappointment on her face when she sees that it reads negative again like you had the other three times.

Because you’re facing away from your wife, you don’t see the wide eyes or the grin that appear on her face almost as soon as she reads that one simple word: positive. She sets the test back down on the counter and looks to you. 

Her arms snake their way around your waist and gently pry your hands away from your body.

“Stop hogging our baby,” she teases you softly.

It takes a few seconds for her words to sink in, but when they do, your jaw drops. You freeze in her arms.

“What did you just say?”

“I said to stop hogging our baby,” your wife repeats. “Let me in on the cuddles.”

“You- we’re- it worked?” you stammer out as you turn to face the redhead.

She nods with an ear splitting grin on her face. “It worked, mi amore. It worked.”

“We’re going to be parents?” you ask her, tears of joy rapidly falling down your face.

She nods again. “We’re going to be parents.”

You and Melissa both understand that you’re quite early into the pregnancy, and there is a risk this early on, so you don’t announce anything quite yet. And it’s difficult to do so. Your excitement is hard to contain, and your wife’s is even more so.

Morning sickness hits you hard. It hits you hard, and it hits you out of nowhere- which only makes it more difficult to keep this big secret of yours between you and your wife.

You’ve taken to eating lunch in your classroom more often, under the guise of having things to work on and prepare for. In reality, the many different aromas that swirl through the break room are enough to make you want to vomit the second you step into the room- much less sit there for thirty minutes. 

Those who aren’t aware that you were going through fertility treatments are none the wiser, accepting that you’ve got more on your plate than usual this year. But Melissa knows. And she has an inkling that Barbara is aware of it too.

That suspicion is confirmed when your grade level partner comes into your classroom one morning with you bent over the trashcan and your wife holding your hair back for you.

“Oh honey,” the kindergarten teacher mumbles as she makes her way into the classroom and shuts the door behind her. “I’m assuming that last round worked?”

You close your eyes as yet another wave of nausea ripples its way through your body, but you force yourself to nod. “Please tell me all of this nausea is worth it.”

“I was sick as hell with Taylor,” Barbara sighs. “It’s worth it.” She then proceeds to pull a bag of something out of her purse and hands it to your wife. “These might help. My niece had terrible morning sickness with her son, and these lollipops did wonders for her.”

“Thank you,” Melissa smiles softly. She reaches the hand that isn’t holding your hair up and gently squeezes her best friend’s wrist.

“How far along?”

“Eight,” your wife relays. “It’s been like this for the last two weeks.”

“Well, hopefully those work,” Barb shrugs. She turns on her foot to leave the two of you be, but she stops herself in her tracks. “Congratulations, you two. You’re going to make wonderful mothers to a very lucky baby.” You hear her press a kiss to Melissa’s cheek before you feel one being planted on the top of your head.

As soon as you’re finished emptying the contents of your stomach, your wife hands you the small container of mouthwash that you now keep in your purse. You take it with a grateful smile before spitting it out into the trash can. Melissa closes it up quickly and takes it out of the room before she reenters and hands you a lollipop.

“Mel, I don’t want a lollipop,” you chuckle softly.

She insists you take it. “Barb said it’s supposed to help with the morning sickness.”

You’ve never open a sucker so quickly.

Those things work like a miracle, and you keep them on hand for the rest of your pregnancy. 

When it comes time to tell the Abbott clan, you’re thirteen weeks and you’re able to conceal the newly appearing bump under slightly baggy sweaters and shirts. The group is thrilled with this news, clearly excited to shower the newest addition to the Abbott family with lots of love.

After telling them, they’re all a bit more mindful of what they bring into the staff room for lunch- a considerate gesture. They’re constantly bringing in little gifts for your unborn baby. It was clear to you before how much your work family cared for you, but this only proves to you how lucky you are to have these ridiculous, goofy, wonderful, special people in your life.

And after what feels like forever, you’re holding a stunningly beautiful little girl in your arms.

“Margaret Jane,” you whisper to the little bundle of blankets. “Our little Maggie.”

“The little girl that we wished and prayed for,” your wife mumbles as she strokes your daughter’s cheek with the tip of her finger. Her eyes don’t leave the baby, but you feel a soft kiss being pressed to your head as she whispers, “I’m so proud of you.”

You look up at her tiredly, but the warm smile on your face hasn’t left since you were handed your girl for the first time a few hours ago. You lean up just slightly, as much as your aching body will allow. Your wife leans down the rest of the way to kiss you softly.

“You know,” Melissa sighs quietly. “If you had told a recently divorced me that this is what my life would turn out to be… having a perfect wife and a beautiful little girl I get to call my daughter, I would’ve told you that you were bat shit crazy- never in a million years would that happen.”

“I know,” you laugh tiredly.

“Miracles really do happen,” your wife says softly as her fingers brush over the small tufts of red hair atop your daughter’s head. 

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

[zepskies]

Love Actually - Part 1

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.  

AN: Here’s my last entry for the TGWRC: Christmas in July event! It’s set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Theme: Christmas movies Prompt: “That’s a poor excuse for a tree.” 

Word Count: 3,100 Tags/Warnings: SB being himself, wee bit of angst, potential fluff overload! 

Part 1: "Humbug"

He was late. 

It was Christmas Eve, and your boyfriend was late. 

With a large bowl of popcorn in your lap, you sank further into your favorite corner of the couch, drumming your nails on its arm. 

Your favorite Christmas movie played on the ridiculously large flatscreen Ben had insisted on when you two moved into this apartment. But you couldn’t get into the story like you normally would.

It was the first Christmas you and Ben were spending together since he’d started working with, instead of against Supe Affairs and the CIA. In fact, he was on an extended mission—hunting down a rogue supe in Idaho, of all places.

Freakin’ Idaho. Goddamn potatoes, you thought irrationally, shoving another handful of popcorn into your mouth.  

While he’d been gone, you went all out in decorating the apartment: red and white candles, stockings, various ornaments, multicolored string lights, and poinsettias. You’d even found a nice little tree that fit in the only free corner of the living room.

Well, you’d had to rearrange some furniture to make that happen, but in the end you’d succeeded. It felt like you were living at the bottom of a snow globe.

You hadn’t heard from Ben at all in over two weeks. The day he left you outside your office in the Surveillance department replayed often in your mind.

Two weeks ago…

“Don’t give me that face, baby doll.” 

Ben quirked a smile at your concerned frown, and he propped a gentle fist under your chin. You crossed your arms.  

You knew he had to go. Butcher and the rest of the guys were waiting outside the S.A. office. And you were proud of him for what he was doing, genuinely trying to put in the work on this “hero” thing. But you didn’t have to like the timing. It was only two weeks until Christmas.

“Fine,” you agreed. “Just get this guy quick. I don’t want to hear my aunt’s shady-ass sniping. Every time I show up to a family gathering by myself, she starts plotting my arranged marriage to her fucking pediatrist, her divorce attorney—mind the irony there—or even the guy who packages meat at the grocery store—” 

“All right, Christ. I’ll be back in fucking time,” said Ben. He grabbed your arms to stop your verbal flapping. Then with a grin, his hands moved to the curve of your waist, down to get a healthy grip of your ass. 

“’Sides, I’m the only one flingin’ meat around here,” he said with a deepening smirk. 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile threatened to take over your frown as he pulled you flush against him, trapping your hands against his broad chest. You found purchase on the hard fabric of his uniform. 

“You’re so gross,” you said. But you pulled him down for a searing kiss. If you weren’t going to see his handsome face for a while, then you were going to make the most of this moment. 

And it seemed your boyfriend felt the same way; his arms wrapped around your frame like steel bands. Your fingers swept through his hair as your tongue slipped into his mouth, making his grip on you tighten with a pleased hum. 

“Oi! Sid and fuckin’ Nancy,” Butcher called from down the hall. “Got a fucking job to do. Today, if you don’t mind.”

Ben broke away from you, just enough to frown in irritation over your head. 

“Calm your fucking tits, Churchill. I’ll leave when I’m good and damn ready.”

You couldn’t help but giggle into his chest.

Now, it was quite literally hours away from Christmas Day. 

You would be seeing your family tomorrow, regardless. You and Ben were supposed to go to your mother’s house for dinner. But you were starting to think that he might not make it tonight, let alone tomorrow. 

And if you had to deal with your aunt nosing into your personal business again, your hand might just “slip” while pouring yourself a rum-filled eggnog, so you wouldn’t be held liable for your actions when you inevitably snapped on the bitch.

Sighing, you continued munching on some popcorn while you focused on one of your favorite parts of Love Actually. Hugh Grant was shaking his ass to “Jump In” by the Pointer Sisters.

The music was infectious, and you found yourself doing a little shimmy yourself on the couch in time with one of your favorite rom-com Brits. 

With the TV volume as loud as it was, not even the door of your apartment unlocking could stop your mini-jam session. 

And the door soon opened, revealing a dusty, soot-covered Benjamin, still in his supe suit and tactical gear. He took a small step back when the gaudy Christmas décor assaulted his eyes, but he blinked through it as he turned his head. 

His lips curved at the familiar sight of you—bundled up in your pajamas and a fuzzy blanket on the couch, bopping to the beat of some shitty ‘80s song he actually recognized. You were alternatively mouthing the words and eating fistfuls of popcorn. 

Shaking his head, Ben stepped into the apartment and shut the door with some force. You finally perked up at the sound, your smile alight with happiness when you realized he was home. That alone made him soften a bit. 

“Ben!” You paused your movie and bounded over to greet him with a warm hug and a deep kiss.  

He brushed your hair back and allowed himself to revel in the familiarity of you in his arms. 

“Aren’t you a fucking sight,” he murmured.

Ben was still getting used to having someone to come home to, but it was grounding. This place was his home now, mostly because you were in it.  

“You okay? How did it go?” you asked, wiping off some soot from his cheek. 

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ben offered you a cocky smile. “We smoked that pyro bitch.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You what?”

“Relax, the supe’s alive,” he said, rolling his eyes, as if it grated him to admit it. He wouldn’t tell you that the supe had two broken arms and probably a crack in his skull. “Being shipped off to prison as we speak.”

You nodded with a smile. “Good. I’m proud of you.” 

His lips pulled at a grin. But then you took his face between your hands with a hard slap (though it didn’t even sting, the point was made in your annoyed frown). 

“You’re late,” you said. Ben raised a brow. 

“Excuse me?” he said. 

“You heard me. You’re fucking late,” you repeated. “Go take a shower. I already started the first movie without you.” 

You tugged him by the hand and all but pushed him into the hall that led to your shared bedroom. 

Ben wasn’t one to be manhandled though. He dug his heels in obstinately. 

“Christ, I just got home. All I want to do is sleep…unless you want to give me a proper fucking welcome.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder with a more than suggestive smirk. He turned around and pulled you into his firm chest. His hands smoothed down your back and squeezed your hips, with his thumbs dragging under the hem of your pajama top.

While your lips threatened a smile, you had to wonder how he had enough energy for reunion sex, but not enough to watch a simple movie. 

Still, his offer was all-too tempting, making heat prickle along your skin wherever he touched. Nonetheless, you managed to remain stubborn and pushed gently against his chest.

“Down, boy,” you said. “If I let you get your hands on me now, I’ll never get through my list.”

First it was Love Actually, then Christmas Vacation, followed swiftly by Home Alone and its sequel, Lost In New York. 

Ben frowned at you. “So? Watch ‘em tomorrow.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it’s Christmas Eve.”

You gestured to all your hard work in the form of the decorated apartment.

“Tomorrow, we have dinner at my mom’s house. So tonight, you’re gonna go shower," you said, pointing at him. "I’m going to make some more hot chocolate, and we’re watching all manner of cheesy, romantic, and downright silly Christmas movies until your Grinch-ass gets some holiday spirit.”

Ben released a tired sigh and dropped his hands away from you.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days," he said. "I’m not staying up all night again for some corny bullshit.”

You frowned in disappointment. 

“Ben, come on. Please?” you tried, but he just waved a dismissive hand and continued his way to the bedroom.

For a moment, you watched him go in disbelief. Was he really going to be like that? 

With a flash of hot annoyance, you huffed and decided that you weren’t going to let him ruin the night for you. 

So you went into the kitchen and whipped up some hot cocoa, breaking out the actual Godiva chocolate bars you bought just for this moment. You poured out one mug initially. But you listened to the old water pipes working, knowing that Ben must’ve been taking a shower. 

You knew he wasn’t just tired. He didn’t seem to be looking forward to tomorrow either, and  was going along with it for your sake. Which, to be fair, could just mean he still wasn’t totally comfortable around your family. (Your sister Luisa still hadn’t totally warmed up to him.)

You also had a feeling that he just wasn’t into Christmas.

The question was why… 

But you poured a mug for him anyway, adding some mini marshmallows into each one. You brought both mugs with you back to the living room and set them down on the coffee table. 

Getting comfortable on the couch again, complete with your blanket, mug, and the popcorn bowl, you pressed “play” and continued watching the movie…even though you felt just a bit lonelier. 

But then, a weight dropped on the other end of the couch. You flinched and looked over at your now clean and pajama-clad boyfriend, who eyed you begrudgingly with his arms crossed over a soft plain shirt. 

You smiled at him warmly. “Hey, baby.”

His grouchy face was the very picture of “humbug.” Biting your lip, you set down the popcorn on the coffee table and handed him the spare cup of hot chocolate. 

“I made some for you,” you said. He gave you a brief nod and took a dutiful sip. But not even rich, chocolatey goodness could curb his sour mood as he stared blandly at the screen. 

You knew that face. That was his, I’ll do this for you, but I’m not gonna fucking like it—face. 

When he stifled a yawn, you knew that he hadn’t been lying. He really was tired. Sometimes you forgot that while Ben was all but indestructible, even he had his limits. Chasing that rogue supe across the country must’ve taken it out of him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. 

So you reached over and plucked the mug out of his hand. His brows knit together as he watched you set it down on the coffee table with yours. Then you grabbed his hand. 

“Come ‘ere,” you said, tugging him toward you. 

“What now?” he groused. 

“Just come on. Don’t bitch,” you teased. You guided him to lay across the couch, with his head pillowed in your lap. You grabbed an extra throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him, making sure that it covered him up to his chest. 

“What am I, a damn kid?” he said. But you knew his griping had no real weight. Already he was humming deep with pleasure as your fingers carded through his soft brown hair. You let your nails drag lightly over his scalp, massaging his head. Your free hand stroked his cheek. 

Ben closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh through his nose. The movie continued to play, but you were no longer paying much attention. This was more important. 

When he opened his eyes again, they were drawn to the small, four-foot Christmas tree in the corner of the room, next to the TV. 

“That’s a poor fucking excuse for a tree,” he said. 

You frowned and followed his gaze. 

“I think it’s adorable,” you replied. And it was the only one you thought would fit in this cozy, but very narrow apartment. 

Ben’s arms crossed over his blanket.

“I’ll go tomorrow, find us a real fucking tree,” he said. 

Your frown deepened a little. “But I already decorated this one. All by myself, I might add.”

He eyed you then, a bit softer.

“All right, we’ll get a second one for the dining room,” he grumbled. “Getting the tree up is a man’s job anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at that. But you tried to see if there was anything deeper to read in his words. Not for the first time, you wondered how he’d spent his holidays in the past. No doubt with a lot of fanfare and celebrity parties during his hay day as Soldier Boy. You were more interested in his life before that.   

“I remember, my mom would run the show at Christmas,” Ben said.

You blinked down at him in surprise. Without knowing, he’d opened up on your exact curiosity. 

Or maybe he just knew you better than you thought.

“She’d have all the help in a damn tear around the house. Cooking, decorating, the whole nine yards. It was a perfect scene, like something out of a catalogue,” said Ben. “But getting the tree was always my dad’s job. His only job, really.”

You smiled and continued to listen with rapt attention. Your thumb continued to stroke along his neck. 

“One year, he got this massive one. Must’ve been…I don’t know, twenty feet. I don’t even know how he got it through the door, but he was mighty fucking proud of himself,” Ben said.

His gaze trailed beyond you, lost in faded memories. They played in his mind like a reel, wordless, but bright and warm. 

“Who decorated it?” you asked. Your voice drew his attention back. 

“Me and him,” Ben admitted, surprising you yet again. “Meanwhile, Mom baked up a storm for the Christmas party they threw every year…”

It was a rare moment where Ben recalled what seemed to be a nice memory of his father. But soon enough, the nostalgia dimmed from his eyes.

He cleared his throat and swiped a hand over his mouth, as if that could erase his moment of vulnerability. 

Then he turned to face the TV screen. 

“So what’s even happening here? Seems like there’s four goddamn movies playing at once.”

You cracked a smile and continued brushing your fingers through his hair. You also rewinded the movie so he could actually follow the story.

“Yeah, that’s what makes this movie so classic. See, there’s Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman. They’re married, kids, the perfect life, right? But he’s actually cheating on her with a younger, sluttier woman.”

“…And this is a fucking Christmas movie?”

“Yeah, you’ll see. Then there’s Liam Neeson.”

Ben perked up at that. “The Taken guy?” 

You nodded. “Yep! He’s a widower, but he has a stepson who’s got a sweet little crush. So he’s gonna try and help the kid impress the girl by helping him learn the drums.”

Your boyfriend nodded. 

“Musicians get plenty of pussy, that’s for damn sure,” he said. And with a knowing grin, “Actors get more though.”

You snorted and pointed to Hugh Grant next. “He’s my favorite. He’s playing the Prime Minister, who falls in love with his assistant, Natalie. That’s her right there.”

Ben raised a brow at your choice of “favorite.” If nothing else, he noted your type for older men. 

But he smirked when Natalie kept verbally fumbling in Hugh’s presence, then stared along with the Prime Minister at the woman’s ass when she walked away at the end of the scene.  

“Hmm, I’ll admit. She’s got a juicy peach,” Ben remarked. You laughed and hit his shoulder playfully. It worked an amused smile onto his face. 

He took your hand from his shoulder and pressed the back of it to his lips. You blinked down at him, and you warmed with a smile at seeing his more relaxed face. 

He kept your hand on his chest, his thumb drawing back and forth over your wrist. 

So you proceeded to explain the various angles of the movie until he was all caught up. 

You two watched the rest of it together. Like always, you cried when Colin Firth poured his heart out to his housekeeper, Aurélia, half in his mangled Portuguese and half in English. You cried again when Emma’s character finally confronted her cheating bastard husband. 

And you held your breath when Hugh and Natalie kissed as the stage curtain fell down, revealing their relationship to the world. 

By the time the credits rolled, you were an emotional mess. You were happy though. Typically you’d watch this movie with your sister, but it was nice to share the holidays with someone… 

Someone who loved you enough to curb his Grinch attitude about cheesy romantic things, like tree decorating and watching rom-coms with hot cocoa. 

You glanced down, and sure enough, Ben was asleep. He had turned onto his stomach. His head still rested in your lap, his cheek pillowed by your thigh, and he had a hand curled around your leg. Your big, growling bear of a man had a gooey center that sometimes surprised even you. 

For one mischievous moment, you considered sticking a piece of popcorn up his nose. 

He looked so damn peaceful that you didn’t want to ruin it…yet now you couldn’t get up either. 

Shit, you thought, but your grin was soft. Oh, whatever. Sleep is overrated.

You queued up Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation next in your movie marathon and settled in. You laid a gentle hand on Ben’s back, between his broad shoulders. 

And his story about his parents returned to the forefront of your mind.

Maybe he didn’t hate Christmas. Maybe it was just difficult for him to remember the genuinely good ones. Maybe he missed his parents; both of them, despite how contentious it had been between him and his father. 

You could certainly understand that. But now, you would make sure he would remember this one for the “good” column.

You only startled a little when your cell phone chimed on the coffee table. The screen read 12:00 a.m. It was officially December 25th. 

You then felt Ben’s warm hand squeeze your leg. His eyes were still shut though, his breathing deep and even in sleep. 

With a smile, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

And you whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

AN: Yay! I hope you liked this fluffy one for SB. 🎄❤️

Did you like Ben's little day trip down memory lane? Let me know in the comments! 😘

**Note: There will be two more parts to this due to popular request!

Keep Reading: PART 2

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[andreafmn]

Running in Circles | Chapter 12

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

A/N: I've done so horribly updating this story (and all the other ones) especially this year 🫣 but hope y'all enjoy

<- Previous

Christmas had come and gone, and winter was in full swing in Virginia. And before anyone could process the holiday, it was New Year’s Eve.  

The bullpen at the BAU had slowly emptied after midday as they had been given the rest of the afternoon off to get ready for the FBI’s New Year’s Eve Celebration. They had been prompted to wear their best—from tuxes to long dresses. There were sure to be various eyecatchers regardless of the winter cold.  

(Y/N) had been finishing up with a stack of reports when she noticed she was the last one in the office, at least in the bullpen. Two offices still had their lights on. One was her father, who had been waiting for her to finish her work to take her home. The other was the ever-overworking unit chief.  

“Hey, I’ve got the last reports here,” (Y/N) said after knocking softly on Hotchner’s door. “Finished some of the ones de next week, too.”  

“That wasn’t necessary,” he replied. “You keep doing all this paperwork, and the team will leave it all to you next time.”  

“I wouldn’t really mind,” she chuckled. “Paperwork is relaxing.”  

“Definitely don’t let them hear you say that,” he laughed as he stood from his chair and slipped his coat on. “Especially Morgan. He’d be more than happy to let you relax with his work.”  

“You don’t have to tell me twice. I think I’ve done over half of his reports since I’ve been here. But don’t tell him I told you that.”  

“Your secret is safe with me,” Hotch chuckled. “You heading out now?”  

The man had crossed the room as he talked, stopping less than a foot away from (Y/N). He towered over her, staring intently into her eyes. His gaze never broke from hers, trying to speak something in a language she did not understand.  

“Y-yeah,” she croaked. “Just had that to finish, but I’m all done now.”  

“You need a ride? I’m leaving now, but I can wait for you.” 

“Oh, uh, well…”  

“Hey, kid, you ready?” David’s voice startled them apart, reminding them that not only were they not alone, but they were also at work. “Oh, Aaron. Didn’t know you were still here.”  

“Yeah, just leaving now,” he said after clearing his throat. “I guess I’ll see you both tonight.”  

“Of course you will!” Rossi smiled brightly. “Although I will miss out on a perfectly good Ardbeg Corryvreckan—this year’s world’s best single malt in the World Whiskies Awards. I guess it will have to wait until the year is new.”  

“You know tonight is not mandatory,” (Y/N) chuckled as the three of them walked out of Hotch’s office and toward the elevator. “You could still stay home and enjoy that whiskey—as long as you save some for me.” 

“And miss out on a chance to wear a tux? Absolutely not,” her father said. “And I can never pass out on a night of free food and drink. What better way to ring in the new year?”  

“Right, I forget rich people love free things,” the girl teased. “Not like you could afford a thousand nights like this one.”  

“It’s not about affording, kid,” he grinned. “It’s about opportunity. How do you think rich people stay rich?”  

“Well, then,” Hotch chuckled softly as the elevator stopped on his floor, “I’ll see you both tonight.”  

Father and daughter waited in silence for the doors to close, watching as their unit choked retreated through the parking lot. “I’ve been thinking of setting him up with someone,” David broke the silence, knocking the air out of (Y/N)’s lungs. “My friend Letty has a daughter just a few years younger than him. Her job is nowhere as exciting as ours, but he could use someone to ground him.”   

She swallowed her jealousy, knowing her father was only looking out for his friend. She couldn’t let him know how bad of an idea that was without admitting her undisclosed feelings. Instead, she simply smiled and said, “Don’t know how open he’d be to dating just yet, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to try.”  

“That’s the spirit, kid,” he chuckled. “I think I will give her a call. And maybe I’ll see what's around for you, too.”  

(Y/N) didn't care to be set up with anyone, but it couldn't hurt to keep her options open. Whatever game she was playing with Hotch could not survive the long run. At some point, he would either reciprocate her feelings or break her heart. Either choice would complicate things between them, but only one was the outcome she wanted. But it wasn't like she could tell her father about that. She couldn't confess just how in love she was with his old friend and their boss. Not only was it highly unprofessional but it would definitely raise a lot of eyebrows, not to mention that it would throw a wrench right in the middle of their team.  

Much like she had done for years, she swallowed down her emotions and splattered on a bright smile for her father. It was a night of celebration--the coming of the new year. Instead of focusing on a love that might never come, she turned her attention to the festivities ahead. Like many years before, David had hired a stylist and a glam squad for her daughter, even if she had told him time and time again that she didn't really care for that. And just like every year before, he smiled and said, “Maybe this year will be different.” It never was, but it didn't hurt to say. 

By the time five o’clock rolled around, (Y/N) didn’t recognize herself. Even though she had gotten her hair and makeup done before, it always surprised her that a few curls and a splash of paint could transform her entire face—hell, even her attitude. She looked herself over at the mirror in the giant groom she had in her father's house, and she couldn't quite tell who was looking back at her.  

Dressed in a floor-length beaded dress, hair perfectly curled, and lips as red as blood is what her reflection wore. She looked elegant, perfectly primped, and polished, a stark contrast to the way she looked on an everyday basis. Granted, she couldn't hunt killers wearing a full-length gown without an enormous clothing budget—not that she couldn't do it, but she doubted the FBI would allow her to step out of uniform rules.  

“Well, look at you,” her father’s voice echoed through the room. “I think this might be your best dress yet.”  

“You say that because it’s mom’s dress,” (Y/N) muttered softly as she ran her hands softly against the beads. “It is beautiful, though.” 

“I say it because it’s true, my little bird,” David smiled, placing his hands on her exposed shoulders. “You look absolutely radiant. It was made for you, my darling.” 

“I wish she was here to see me in it,” she sighed. “Do you think she would have minded me wearing it?” 

“Oh, little bird, she would have been absolutely thrilled. She told me to keep all of her gowns to make sure you could wear them one day. You were her absolute pride and joy.”  

(Y/N) couldn’t quite imagine her mother in the same dress. She tried to visualize the way the fabric would hug her body, tried to imagine the way her hair would be styled, even how her makeup would have been done, but the image never came into focus. There was no definition to her edges, no clear distinction to who she was. All (Y/N) saw was herself.  

“You look so much like her, mia bella,” David cooed. “An angel in every sense of the word, my beautiful daughter.”  

“Stop, dad,” she grinned as her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red than the shade she wore. “You're making me blush.”  

“Can a father not tell the truth?” 

“Not right now,” (Y/N) smiled brightly, interlocking her arm with David's. “We don't wanna be late to the gala. Especially when I have the hottest date on my arm.”  

“I can't disagree there,” the man smirked. “I will most definitely outshine everyone tonight.”  

“Then, what are we waiting for? Let's head out already.” 

Dressed in a couple of hundred dollars more than they had arrived at the Rossi mansion, (Y/N) and David started their drive to the Washington, D.C. Four Seasons. The patriarch had hired a car service, knowing neither of them would be sober enough to drive home safely, and if anyone asked his daughter, the streets were safer without his road rage on the streets. Somehow, an older Italian man with short patience, a holiday, and crowded roads did not mix well.  

She was also grateful David was having a lively conversation with their driver rather than focusing on her well-manicured fidgeting fingers. (Y/N) wasn't sure what she was expecting at the venue. Hotchner would be there; there wasn't any way around that. But she didn't know what would happen once the night went on and the drinks were flowing.  

Things had seemed to shift between them in the past year. They had begun to spend more time together, growing closer on a personal and seemingly emotional level. Maybe she was reading into things, but (Y/N) thought there was something happening between her and her years-long more-than-a-crush. It could have been her deepest desires clouding her mind, of course. The mind could play unkind tricks, feeding a person's ego and aiding in their delusions. That could very well be what was happening to her, but she didn't think so. At least, she hoped it wasn't that.  

The entry to the hotel was already bustling by the time the Rossis arrived. Agents old and new dressed in their Sunday best crowded the entry of the Four Seasons, funneling into the building for their annual New Year's Gala. Men and women with their respective partners or dates for the night put aside hours of their night to bring in the new year with their units. Plus, good food and unlimited drinks were often a great incentive to pack the place.  

“Emily told me the BAU was given the Seasons room on the lower lobby level,” (Y/N) whispered to her father as they snaked their way into the crowd, smiling and nodding toward agents they might have known in passing. “People have been moving in and out of all the event spaces and mingling amongst each other. But that's where they're waiting.”  

“Let’s not keep them waiting then,” he smiled. “We all know the party doesn’t start until we arrive.” 

“Oh, god, dad,” she chuckled. “Please don’t say that when we see them.” 

“Why not? It’s not a lie.” 

“You forget the part where it is not funny,” the woman said. “ 

“You laughed.” 

“Because I don’t want my aging father to feel like he isn’t still funny,” (Y/N) teased. “Thought you’d appreciate the laugh.”   

“I might be getting older, but I am not yet old, little bird,” he said, the same beaming smile he always wore splattered across his face. “Can’t have you wasting your pity laughter so early on. Although, I do know that was real laughter—it better be.”   

“Whatever you say, dad. You’re the funniest man I know.”   

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around each of the Rossis, a hearty laugh filling their ears as they reached the group of their friends and teammates. “Were you two talking about me?” Derek grinned as he exchanged glances between the two. “Because there can’t be anyone funnier than me.”  

“Same suit from three years ago, Derek?” (Y/N) teased. “You’re losing your sense of style there, buddy. What happened to your ‘a suit a year brings new cheer’ saying?”   

“Well, I may look great in a different tux every year, but my pocket doesn’t love it,” he responded. “And, honestly, I didn’t think anyone would notice. Although, I should have known you or Reid would.”   

“Yeah, she’s the reason I rent my dresses now,” Emily added. “She remembered the dress I wore two years ago was the one I wore to an event in 2008, all because she remembered seeing a picture in my living room. There’s no sense in buying a new dress every year, but I’m definitely not showing up in one I’ve put on more than twice.”   

“I don’t do it to embarrass you, guys. I just can’t help it when the thought pops into my head. Sometimes, I just have to say it, or else my mind will go crazy.”   

“Exactly!” Spencer exclaimed. “It’s not our fault our brains work this way.”  

“Guys, it doesn’t matter who’s wearing what,” David interjected with a smile. “All that matters is that in a few hours, the new year will come, and this whole year will be forgotten.”  

“Actually...”  

“If I have to listen to the story of New Year’s again,” the man interrupted Spencer, rubbing his temple, “I’m gonna need a stiff drink.”   

“I’ll go get it,” (Y/N) offered. “Anyone else need a refill?”   

A chuckle escaped the woman’s mouth as various hands shot up, all but the one she had been in search of since the moment she had arrived. The whole team sat around their designated table, all chattering and smiles, except their trusted unit chief. With a gentle sigh, she walked over to the crowded bar, trying her best to catch the bartender’s attention through the couple of heads ahead of her. To no avail.  

Everyone else was louder, taller, more assertive while she stood in the background trying to break through. The second she tried to speak up, someone else talked over her. She believed she would stand there the rest of the night just to get a couple of drinks.  

“I’m sorry,” a voice interjected. “But I believe she was next in line to order.”   

Behind her, Hotchner towered over her stature, staring down the man who had cut her off just as she had managed to reach the front of the bar. He placed a protective hand on the low of her back, his eyes stuck on the man beside them. His gaze remained stoic until the agent felt embarrassed enough to move to the other side of the bar where the other bartender was, excusing himself with a quiet ‘sorry’ and his head hanging low.  

“Go ahead, (Y/N),” Hotch smiled. “You can order now.”  

The woman couldn’t help the way her heart hammered in her chest as his hand sent waves of warmth through her body. (Y/N) tried to keep her words steady, thankful for the makeup on her face that covered the blood pooling on her cheeks as her body shook with nerves. Hotch remained in the same position as she ordered drinks for the group, adding a whiskey on the rocks at the end for himself. Maybe he hadn’t paid the move any mind, but she could not stop focusing on it until both their hands were occupied with a few glasses each.  

“Thanks for that,” (Y/N) managed to croak out as they walked back to the team. “I thought I was going to be stuck there all night.”   

“I’m sure you would have been able to handle yourself fine,” he said. “But a little help never hurt anybody.”  

“And it's very much appreciated,” she smiled. “Is Jack with Jessica tonight?”  

“Yeah. We had our own New Year's celebration before I left,” he chuckled as he remembered what had occurred only an hour before. “He asked me why there were no fireworks outside, and we had to watch them on TV. I told him fireworks weren't a thing this year, but I'm not sure he believed me.”  

“I don't think he did. That boy really loves the lights,” (Y/N) laughed. “But there's always Fourth of July for fireworks.” 

“I just hope he doesn't keep his aunt up to see if it's true.”  

Once they reached the table, the woman realized they were not the only two people in the world. For a minute, everything around them had vanished. It was just her in her mother's champagne beaded gown and Hotchner in a stunning black tux. For that minute, she could imagine there was something more between them than she thought there was.  

For the next couple of hours, while they sat at the table and dinner was served, the only thing she could think of was Hotch's hand on her back. She remembered in vivid detail the way his fingers stretched and flexed against her exposed skin, his warmth sinking into her with a comforting and intoxicating touch. (Y/N) tried her best not to let it show just how much that simple move had affected her, but she could feel her eyes drifting toward him every couple of minutes.  

What she didn't know was just how much it had stuck to Hotch's mind as well. That minute of having his hand flush against her back had made his heart skip a beat. His breath had hitched in his throat as he felt the softness of her skin against his. If it had been up to him, he would have kept it there the rest of the night. But the imminent threat of an overbearing man had been long gone, and he couldn't justify keeping the protective hold on her, especially with a couple of drinks occupying his hands. At the table, his eyes would drift to her when she wasn't looking. He couldn't help looking at her whenever she laughed or talked. Her magnetism was unavoidable, and he was susceptible to it.  

Throughout the entirety of the dinner, and the few drinks that had come and gone from the table, Hotchner could only think of a way to get her alone. For what? He wasn't really sure. All he knew was he wanted as much time with her as he possibly could have. The rest, he had yet to plan for that.  

As the night went on, the chances grew slimmer and slimmer. There had been awards and speeches, various presentations and slideshows shown, and midnight was quickly approaching. The formalities of the night had come and gone, and the fun had begun. The lights had gone down, music had been turned up, and people had left their tables to fill the dance floor and wait until the clock struck twelve.  

In the commotion, Hotchner had lost (Y/N). One second, he'd been drinking in the image of her dressed in gold, and the next, she had disappeared in a sea of FBI agents. His eyes scoured the crowd, his mind focused on only one person. And when they finally fell on her, rage bubbled from deep inside him. Back at the bar, (Y/N) had taken a seat. She was nursing a drink while the same guy from the start of the night seemed to be pestering her. Hotch could read her body language from a mile away, and she needed a way out.  

“Come on,” the man insisted. “Just tell me if you’re here as a guest or you’re an agent. It’s a simple question.” 

“I don’t feel comfortable giving out that kind of information to someone I don’t know.” 

“My name’s Pete, how about that?” he said, slurring his words. “Now you know who I am.” 

“Just because I know a name doesn’t mean I know you, Pete,” (Y/N) stated as she swirled her drink around. She had come to the bar to escape the heat that had overtaken her being so close to Hotch. But instead of solace, she had found an even bigger hindrance than body heat. “Now, I’d like to enjoy my drink alone.” 

“Definitely an agent. Wouldn’t be this closed off if you weren’t,” the man muttered, seemingly trying to do it under his breath but failing. “No one should be alone on a holiday, miss. And as bad of a start as we had, I make great company.” 

“As much as I would love to find out if that’s true, I’m sure your own date would appreciate your company. Me? I’d rather down this old-fashioned in peace.” 

“Come on. At least tell me your name.” 

“Can’t do that, Pete,” she said. “Best you go back to who you came with.” 

“Oh, Alyssa doesn’t mind,” he chuckled awkwardly. “She knows I need room to breathe. And you look like a breath of fresh air.”  

“I’m more of a deadly gas, but thank you,” (Y/N) smiled sarcastically. “Now, like I said, I want to drink alone.”   

“Come on, baby, you shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Pete pressed on. “Who else will you kiss at midnight?”  

“It’s not gonna be you, man.” Hotch appeared seemingly out of nowhere for the second time that night. At least, that’s how it appeared to her. She had not witnessed the intense focus the man had held on to her for the past few hours and how long he had spent looking for her. “I believe she has told you already to leave her be.”   

“Look, man, this has nothing to do with you,” Pete argued as he squared up to Hotchner, trying his best to match up to the man’s height. “We’re just talking here. Why don’t you get lost already?”  

“I don’t think that’s what the lady here wants,” Hotch said sternly. “Now, your date might be okay with you venturing out, but I’m not. And as her date, I would heavily advise you to take two steps back and keep walking, Pete.”  

The unit chief pronounced every syllable of the man’s name, his tone even but menacing. His eyes burned red with anger, and he had taken the empty space on her left side permanently. Just like he had done at the beginning of the night, Hotch held his gaze firmly on Pete. And it didn’t waver until the man finally cowered and left, a deep red hue painted across his face.  

“My hero,” (Y/N) chuckled once Pete was finally far away. “Second time in a few hours, too. You just seem to be there when I need you.”   

“What are friends for?” he smiled, his eyes softening as they fell on her. “Are you okay? Did he do anything?”  

“I’m fine,” she said. “You arrived just in time, twice, and apparently as my date tonight.”  

“I’m sorry. Was that too much?”  

“It was perfect,” (Y/N) grinned, feeling emboldened enough to place her hand on his. “Although you know that means you owe me a kiss at midnight, right?”   

“Well, it’s not like that would be torture.” The words took them both aback. In part because Hotch had said it and in part because it had not seemed like a joke. “You know, it’s almost 12.”  

“Right. Just a few minutes until the New Year.”  

“Why don’t we, uh, head somewhere a bit more quiet?”  

“We can go up to the courtyard,” she offered. “The office separated the space, but there wasn’t really anyone there because of the cold.”  

Hotchner held out his hand for her, helping her off the bar stool and leading her toward the only place everyone seemed to be avoiding. Just as she had said, only a floor up, the courtyard was empty, save for a few employees taking a quick smoke break, but a few space heaters had been scattered around the area—not that it helped in the cold of the middle of winter, but it made things a bit more bearable. Before closing the door behind them, he grabbed two champagne flutes and closed them away from the rest of the world.  

“I didn’t notice how loud it was in there until now,” (Y/N) pointed out. “I’m glad we’re out here.”  

“Well, I couldn’t let you be anywhere near Mr. Pete. Now, could I?”  

“I’m sure Pete will remember you for the rest of the year,” she laughed. “And I don’t think he and Alyssa will be attending next year—at least not together.”  

“I think he got enough air,” Hotchner joined in her laughter. “We’ll see just how much he gets when Alyssa catches wind of what he's been up to.”  

A comfortable silence fell between them as commotion started inside the event hall. Everyone shuffled around inside to gather at the front of any screen that was playing the countdown. There was only a minute left on the clock, and it would officially be a new year. It was a chance for renewal, a chance for new beginnings, a chance for love, or maybe something more. The new year brought the semblance of choices, the hope that somehow something worthwhile would come to your life despite all the pain and heartache the past may have brought. It brought the chance of solidifying maybes.  

“It's almost midnight,” Hotch whispered as he draped his suit jacket across her shoulders. (Y/N) hadn't noticed her body had started to shake until she felt the warmth of his body seep through her skin, melting away any ounce of cold that had been embedded in her bones. “Do you have your resolutions for the new year?” 

“Something like that,” she smiled up at him, getting as close as she could without scaring him off. “Other rituals haven't seemed to work for me, so maybe some simple wishing will do the trick this time.” 

Hotch didn't back down from her approach. Instead, he took a step closer. “And what will those wishes be?”  

“If I tell you, they won't come true,” she said, finally closing the distance between them. Her chest was pressed against his, her eyes fluttering up to his as a smile stretched across her crimson lips. “Are you willing to risk yours?” 

“Not so sure,” he whispered. “I'm kind of hoping they come true, and we're far too close to midnight to take chances. Only twenty seconds to go.”  

“We don't have to do this, Hotch,” (Y/N) stated, feeling nerves bubbling deep in her chest. “It was just a silly joke.”  

“I don't mind,” Hotchner said. “At the end of the day, it's just a kiss.”   

But it wasn't. Not to either of them. Even if the other didn't know, that kiss meant more to them than they would ever want to admit. It would be the ellipsis to the question they had been too scared to ask, the cementing of the feelings they had harbored for years but were too terrified to admit, the beginning of a whirlwind of doubts they would carry in their hearts. Maybe it was a dumb decision. Maybe they should have walked away at that moment. 

But when the crowd inside the hotel yelled out the last five seconds, their hearts were beating as one—fast and loud, thrilling anticipation coursing through their veins. That was it. The new year. Only one second away.  

“On...” The words died in (Y/N)'s mouth as Hotch crashed his lips to her. One of his hands circled her waist, while the other cradled her cheek as he pulled her to her like she belonged to him—not that he knew that she always had. He savored her taste and reveled in her warmth, thanking whatever being was out there for allowing him that fleeting moment with her. The kiss was sudden and desperate. Hotchner believed it would be the first and the last, and he planned to take advantage of every second she allowed.  

As soon as their lips had touched, fireworks erupted in the sky. They perfectly embodied the moment, creating a visual of what was going on in their insides at that very second. It was now the new year, and they were both spending it with the one person that had clouded their mind the entirety of the past year. Even if they thought the kiss meant nothing to the other person, it meant the world to them.  

“Happy New Year, (Y/N),” Hotchner said as he was forced to break the kiss for air. His arms were still circled around her waist, keeping her close for as long as she let him.  

“Happy New Year, Aaron,” she smiled brightly before noticing his lips. “You have red lipstick on you.” 

“Oh, god.” 

He went to wipe it, but all he did was smear it around. “Here,” she said as she reached her thumb to his lip. “Let me.” 

Their eyes locked on the other, an inkling of something unspoken shining in them. So many feelings and confessions lingered between the two, waiting anxiously for the moment they were able to break free. They trembled under the surface, pushing against their lies and their silence. All they wanted was to be revealed.  

But that would not be the moment.  

“There you guys are,” David’s voice startled them apart. His back was turned to them as he motioned to the team from behind the door, shielding their closeness from them until they were a safe distance apart. “Wow, what a view you guys got here.” 

“Uh, yeah,” (Y/N) said. “Hotch wanted to record the fireworks for Jack since he couldn’t see them.”  

“You guys should have told us you were here,” Penelope exclaimed. “It’s gorgeous! Look at those lights!” 

“Yeah, we just sort of ended up here,” Hotch interjected. “Thought I would get a better view of the fireworks from here than the patio downstairs.”  

“Well, you were right, friend,” David said as he clapped Hotchner’s back. “Perfect place to say goodbye to the old year.” 

“It really is,” he said, fighting the urge to let his eyes drift toward (Y/N). “Happy New Year, David.” 

As everyone hugged and wished each other a happy new year, Hotch and (Y/N) remained next to each other, their arms by their sides. Each of them felt the overwhelming urge to reach their hands toward the other, their need for closeness itching deep in their veins. But there, in front of their team and her father, they could not give in. Especially while they each thought the other did not feel the same.  

By the time they had finished saying their well wishes, a flurry of stark white snowflakes had begun descending from the sky.  

“It’s snowing,” (Y/N) smiled, looking at the sky alongside the rest of the team. “It’s so beautiful.” 

“Yeah,” Hotch said, taking advantage of the team’s distraction to stare directly at the woman beside him. “It is.”  

Winter was never kind, but that one seemed to be a chilly one. At that time, as she hugged Hotch’s jacket tighter to her body, (Y/N) didn’t think it to be a premonition of the year that awaited them. All she could think of was the kiss that she had just shared with Hotch, not knowing he was thinking of the same thing.  

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[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight, Ch 1: Docile Pyre

summary: nathan tries his best to wade through the sea of feelings you’ve brought up in him. he’s kinda shitty to you while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, nathan is a pining asshole, reader is so competent and cool

wc: 2,200

AN: BE NICE TO ME PLEASE GOD. i don’t know where this came from. on christmas eve morning, nathan bateman himself walked into my apartment and made me write this. who am i to argue with a man who looks like oscar issac?

in plain sight masterlist | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan learned quickly that his usual backhanded compliments and intelligent snarkiness don’t work for you. You don’t care enough to let him get under your skin, don’t care enough to be baited into an argument. It gets under his skin.

You make him sick. Sick in a way he’d never felt before. He thought he was the epitome of unbothered and unchanged until he met you. He feels like a fucking teenage boy, wiping his sweaty palms and reminding himself that he’s in control. He’s the boss. So why does his heart flutter when you look him in the eyes so intently as he gives you task after task to do?

You never complain. You never say much at all. He wishes that you would say something. That you would lash out or fight back— give him something. He wants to see you.

But you’re prim and perfect. All “yes sir” and “no sir”. Mr. Bateman this and Mr. Bateman that. No one calls him Mr. Bateman. It’s fucking silly, the way it affects him when you do. You handle each task he gives you with ease— even when he has you calling the most difficult of his colleagues. In meetings, they mention how charming you are, sweet and charismatic. Nathan doesn’t even get that. For someone who’s all about AI, blank stares, and obedient droids, your likeness to them is driving him crazy. He knows that you’re a person with emotions, desires, and opinions. So he picks and picks and picks, hoping that one day you’ll break.

Why won’t you show him? Why does he care so much? Why is he completely enamored with you anyway?

Being around you starts to confuse him. Nathan hates that feeling. He likes to be the smartest in the room— he needs it or he starts to feel small. Like he’s that little boy he was all those years ago, staring up into the angry eyes of his parents as they spew insults at him. But, he can’t seem to find a balance when he’s around you, he hates the feelings you invoke but can’t seem to work himself out of the tangled mess in his heart. Before you, he was sure that he didn’t have one anymore.

“Can you work overtime tonight? I need all of this sorted and filed,” He gestures to stack upon stack of paperwork in the corner of his lab.

“I just need to make a call, sir.”

Nathan knows that you have a life outside of him and this job— any normal person would. But, he’s not normal, is he? It reminds him that despite these harbored feelings, he’s not compatible with you. You deserve someone normal. Maybe that’s who you need to call, maybe you already have someone. Jealousy courses through his veins.

He raises a brow at you, his voice cool, “A call? You have something more important to do than your job?”

You give him no information. Just a polite smile as you head towards the door, “I’ll just be a moment, sir.”

Nathan pretends to tinker around with his synthetic brains and limbs and skin until you’re finished filing. He thought it’d take longer, but you finish in a couple of hours. He’s always impressed with you and your performance but it goes sour the moment you reach for your bag.

“If that’s all Mr. Bateman, I’ll see you at 9 a.m.”

“Wait,” He says, trying to prolong your time together, trying to see if you’ll give him any sort of reaction if he gives you more work. But no. You turn to him with ease, a polite and expectant look on your face. He gives up. “I’ll send you a grocery list. You can be here at 10 a.m.”

“10 a.m.,” You repeat with a soft nod.

Then Nathan’s all alone again. He heads into his bedroom, opening one of the closets. He needs to get lost for a while. He needs you off his mind.

—

Nathan tries. He really tries not to watch you so closely. He tries to distance himself from you. He stops giving you the tasks he used to give you just to hopefully piss you off. His attempts are useless though. The only thing that could keep him from watching you is firing you. He doesn’t have control, he feels powerless in the face of your docile stare.

He starts to notice things. That your hair is a little out of place. That your clothes aren’t as crisp and clean as usual. He sees the bags under your eyes. He sees you sleeping during your lunch break instead of eating. Your work doesn’t suffer and neither does your attitude but the subtle light in your eyes gets dimmer and dimmer as time wanes on.

Nathan had wanted to see you, sure, but he didn’t want to see you like this. Something’s wrong. He’s not sure has the courage to ask you about it. He feels guilty when he has to ask you to work late on a Thursday afternoon. It feels like it’s festering inside him and he almost forgoes asking. It gets what he’s wanted for months and months on end. You finally crack.

“Hey, I need you to work late tonight,” He murmurs, more gently than he’s spoken to anyone…ever. Fuck, you make him soft. It’s disgusting. It’s unfair. It’s blasphemy.

You continue to type when you respond, “I can’t, sir.”

Nathan freezes, unsure if he’s just heard you correctly. “Excuse me?”

You inhale a soft breath, your gaze airing on slightly apologetic, “I said that I can’t. I can’t work late tonight, Mr. Bateman, I’m sorry.”

“And why not?”

“I’m not sure that that’s any of your business. Sir,” You add respectfully.

“Any of my business?” He repeats, incredulous.

“Yes, sir.”

He stares at you for a handful of seconds, weighing his options. The tasks he wants to give you could wait until more— he’s simply impatient. But, he’s got buy-in now with your disagreement and secrecy. He could push…and he does. “I didn’t ask, I ordered. I need you here for a few more hours.”

It works. For the first time since you started working for him a little under a year ago, you finally show him something. You’re angry, he can tell by the way your brows knit together and your mouth twists. It thrills him.

You stew for a few beats, no doubt deciding if you should voice your rebuttal or go on as usual. Nathan watches you eagerly, hoping of course for the latter. It doesn’t come. Instead—

You close your eyes, growing statuesque. Nathan can only tell you’re still breathing because of how close he is, and how intensely he’s watching you. You open your eyes after a moment and say easily, “Then I need to make a call. It’ll just be a moment, sir.

You work diligently that night, finishing up in just half the time he suggested. He’s almost tempted to give you more, but he knows that would just make things worse. Despite your cool collected manner, the air in the room feels heavier, the energy shifted. He knows he’s fucked up. And if he wasn’t sure, he is when you get up to leave without your usual goodbye or so much of a glance at him.

It’s only after you’ve gone that Nathan takes a good look at his calendar. It’s New Year's Eve. He’d made you stay late on New Year's Eve. That guilt from before rears its ugly head, more gut-wrenching than before. He makes his way to the kitchen to drink it away. It’s replaced with alcohol, hot jealousy, and a hint of sadness. You’d had plans for New Year's Eve. You weren’t going to be lonely like him, if you still made it to those.

Fuck and who were they with? Some guy? Some woman? Did it matter? Not really. The only thing that mattered is that you opened up to them. You show them who you are. Nathan sits hunched over on the couch, bottle in hand staring into the fire.

No, I’m not sorry, he thinks drunkenly to himself. If keeping you late kept you with him and away from whoever was in your life then he wasn’t sorry. He was selfish and unkind, but not sorry. Assholes like him don’t get to be sorry. He’d be a monster that would keep you as long as he could in any way that he could.

—

When you come in on the second, you look exhausted despite the day off. It almost sets him off, but he’d spent most of yesterday thinking about you. The drinking had taken away his guilt, his jealousy, or that unworthy feeling he’s been running from all his life. You…well you make him want to face. Dig to the root of it and cast it out of himself, but he knows he’s not strong enough. The most he can do right is an apology.

Nathan comes to sit on the edge of your desk, blocking the screen so you have to look up at him. “Hey.”

You look up at him with those soft, tired eyes. “Yes?”

He shifts, scratching the bare patch atop his head awkwardly, “I uh— the other night, it was shitty of me to make you work late on New Year’s Eve.”

“I made it work, sir.”

Fuck him, you’re making this hard. His silly little anger about your disposition isn’t justified, he realized that when he sobered up yesterday but he feels ready to explode with it. Spending New Year’s Day alone had never bothered him until yesterday. He had never himself alone, given his bots, until you. You’re screwing with his head, making it all fucky.

“Mr. Bateman?”

A small shiver runs down his spine. He nods, clapping his hands together before hopping off your desk. He needs space and air. “It won’t happen again. On any holiday.”

You fix him with a polite smile, nodding, “Sure.”

Nathan avoids you as much as he can for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s his only option now. He knows that there’s no point in fighting this. Once he feels a certain way it might as well be set in stone. It’s hard to accept that. Even if it wasn’t, he doesn’t want to.

He runs into you on his way out, and before he can think better of it, he’s talking, “Hey, wait up one second.”

“I can stay late, it’s not a problem,” You say mechanically.

“No, I’m not— fuck I’m not asking you to stay late again. I’m an asshole but Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Did I make a mistake then, sir?”

He can’t help himself— he laughs. It dissolves into a maniacal giggle, his hands rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck’s sake. No, sweetheart, you didn’t make a mistake. What I meant to say earlier was I shouldn’t have made you work late on New Year’s Eve. I shouldn’t make you work so late any day, I don’t know your life, I don’t know you.”

“Alright.”

“And what I mean by that is— you know that this is me saying sorry? Right?”

“Yes, Mr. Bateman, I understand what you’re saying completely.”

“Great. Well?”

You tilt your head at him— it’s almost unsettling. “Well?”

“Usually someone apologizes, says it won’t happen again, and then the other thanks them. Accepts the apology. All that jazz. That’s how it works in the movies at least if I’m not mistaken,” He grins, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Yes, sir, I know how apologies work.”

He nods his head at you expectantly, “Then it’s your turn.”

You do that thing again from the other night, where you go so still you could be made from stone. He watches you with curious eyes, and when your gaze meets his, he can see it— the fire. He’s cracked you again. This time he hopes for a better result.

Shoulders squared, clutching your bag tightly over your shoulder you say, “With all due respect and complete honesty, Mr. Bateman, I don’t accept. I don’t care to. While I appreciate your attempt, none of what you said was a true apology. That almost means that well, there was nothing for me to accept. I’ll see you at 7 a.m., sir.”

Nathan watches you leave, his mouth slightly agape. You had just, so politely and succinctly told him off. He feels like his world has been turned upside down like he’s been bitten by a snake he was told wasn’t poisonous. And he wants to be bitten again. Again and again, he wants to stoke that fire in you until it’s an uncontrollable rage. A forest fire with no end in sight. He wants to be engulfed in it, willing and ready to suffer the burns of handling you. Where he’d been prepared to give up on you after apologizing— okay with sacrificing you to someone who might actually have a chance at deserving you— he refuses to now.

This feels like a challenge. You want him to be better? He’ll do it. He’d do anything for you. And he will.

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @faretheeoscar, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @kotaropuppy

[arent-i-the-fairest]

If you were aware there’s a theory going on that Rollo will be expelled from NBC and be forcibly transferred to NRC and become a student of Ramshackle. I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen, but it’s fun to think about.

I wrote a thing earlier about it on my blog, and I can’t help but like the idea of Rollo’s redemption. MC is uneasy at first about their dorm situation, but they slowly get used to it. It gets to the point where they accidentally act like a domestic couple raising Grim and it pisses the NRC students. Jealousy ensues! Can I get headcanons of that?

𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

author’s note : merry christmas-eve everyone! (or merry christmas to those in timezones where it’s already dec 25th!) hoping everyone enjoys the holiday! ♡

⚠️ spoilers for masquerade event !

“long time no see, prefect.” your new dorm student greets. you don’t respond, too stunned to speak.

rollo flamme. the guy that cultivated a supposed to be extinct species of flower to try and rid the world of all magic— and he’s been dropped right into your dorm with no warning whatsoever.

grim took it upon himself to break the silence. “there’s no way you’re stayin’ here! i still don’t forgive you for what you pulled during that trip!” rollo’s forced attempt at a smile finally fell.

“i have just as much of a say in this as you two do; and that is none.” he scowls. “i would’ve taken a different punishment if i could’ve. but this is what my headmaster— old headmaster saw best fit for me.”

“oh.” you cough. “i’ll.. give you a tour. starting with your room.” you give rollo a hand by carrying one of his suitcases for him, and he quietly thanks you.

grim huffs, annoyed that you don’t put up a fight. it’s not like you don’t want to, though. but the cat-monster scampers off somewhere to sulk, and you walk rollo up to his dorm room.

“as run down as it is..” rollo cringed at the sight of dust flying up from his bed when he set a bag down on it. “..i’m glad to have been placed in this dorm.”

you wore your heart on your sleeve— surprise and confusion written all over your face. “you were the only one i could find tolerable to be around when i met you at the symposium.” he shows you one of his rare genuine smiles. “i trust i’m in good hands.”

a tender moment was how it all started.

settling in was a bit of a challenge. grim held a huge grudge against rollo. (a few tuna cans from rollo though, and suddenly he felt a slight change of heart.) you were weary of him as well, but didn’t necessarily hate him. but not even considering the.. incident, it felt strange now having to share a living space with someone other than grim. but you got used to it relatively quickly.

rollo actually settled in quite nicely to the dorm. only to the dorm.. well, and his classes. but he failed to even attempt to get along with anyone from the other dorms, choosing to only hang around you and grim instead. he has no desire in getting along with other mages— he’s only really tolerating grim since he’s so beloved by you. (though he does genuinely start to become fond of him at some point, as much as he hates to admit.) so the three of you became pretty close knit.

trays in hand, you made your way towards your dorm mates.

“lunch is served.” you grin, handing each of the boys their meals. grim hops up from his spot on rollo’s lap, but pouts when he sees the lunch given. “henchman, you promised i’d get a tuna sandwich today!” he whines.

“you had one for dinner last night because you couldn’t wait until today, remember?” you put a hand up, stopping him from protesting. “you can’t have another! tuna every day is bad.”

“listen to the prefect and eat what you have here.” rollo says flatly. grim begrudgingly surrenders, ears flattened as he starts picking at his food.

you place your hands on your hips, grinning triumphantly before finally taking a seat next to rollo. “thanks. putting my foot down is a bit of a struggle for me.” you casually place an arm around his shoulder, and he leans into your touch. ever since he met you, he’s been more thankful that he has such a good poker face than ever.

“could’ve fooled me. you were quite stern.” he smiles.

you start chatting away with him, completely unbeknownst to the fact that there were 21 pairs of eyes, gaze set towards your lunch table— more specifically, glaring at rollo.

the people most bothered by rollo’s arrival were literally all of your friends. especially the ones who came to the symposium— feelings were (understandably) still quite bitter. but anyways, there are different types of jealousy among them. they have different reasons for disliking rollo and different ways of dealing with their feelings and him.

there are 3 groups i’ve generalized—

there are the ones who dislike him because they don’t trust him. of course, it’s mainly the symposium-goers. but there are also ones who didn’t go that just.. get a bad vibe off of him, i suppose. in any case, they keep as close of an eye on him as they can. they want to protect you from him in case he tries anything. (riddle, deuce, jack, ruggie, jade, jamil, vil, epel, diasomnia)

then there are the ones who are sullen. honestly, the main reason they harbor hatred towards rollo is because of how close he is to you. time that you’re out spending with rollo could be used hanging out with him! (ace, leona, azul, floyd, rook, idia)

then last but not last, there are the normal ones. (concerningly, the group with the least people in it lol) the jealousy is there, but they don’t hate rollo like the rest of these guys just seem to do. they’re quiet about their feelings as well. but they cherish every second of attention they get from you. (trey, cater, kalim)

. . . too bad rollo doesn’t care about a single one of them though, lol. he actually sort of enjoys the fact that he’s peeving so many people.

he may not have successfully carried out his crimson-flower plan, but at least he gets to sit in your arms while gloating at a bunch of mages who wish they were in his place.

staying at nrc for his redemption isn’t going as miserably as he thought. (though it’s debatable whether he will ever truly be redeemed or not..)

[euphoricfilter]

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲

☆ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

when two brains collide

tags/ warnings: games designer! jungkook, non, idol au, established relationship, fluff !!!!!!, christmas!!!! :D

word count: 1.1k

notes: merry christmas!!!! technically this can be read as a standalone :D

☆ epic crazy callob with @bonny-kookoo 💞 ☆

☆ series masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

neither you nor jungkook remember exactly when your christmas eve tradition had began. the both of you could never keep a secret from one another. there was always the unbridled excitement the both of you had, impatient for the other to see what you’d gotten them.

and so, the solution: the both of you would exchange one gift on christmas eve.

the first year it happened, jungkook had gotten a little overzealous, half your christmas presents opened hours before christmas day. you had to be the one to stop it, realisation dawning on you the moment you’d seen how much wrapping paper was tucked in both your laps.

jungkook hadn’t been happy you’d stopped, bottom lip pouty and mood all mushy sad. because as much as he loved everything you bought him, there was this strange sort of joy he found in simply watching you carefully unwrap your gifts.

the second year of your tradition had been you. because the playstation jungkook had wanted arrived the morning of christmas eve and you had to keep it a secret all day. pure buzzing excitement fizzing beneath your skin for hours as you stashed it under the bed.

and you simply couldn’t help yourself. so of course you had to give it to him before the words slipped off your tongue and the surprise was ruined.

by the third year the both of you made an active effort to slip it into your other christmas eve festivities.

“jungkook, quick” you call out to him from the other room, “ELF is on soon and we can’t miss it”

he peeks his head round the doorframe of your bedroom, “i’ll get the DVD out if we miss it”

your eyebrows narrow at him, “it’s not the same as us watching it when it comes on the TV”

“we have to sit through ads though” he murmurs.

“yes, but” you give him a pointed look, “that’s part of the charm, plus, they tell you what’s on tomorrow for christmas day”

jungkook’s nose scrunches up, “i’ll be quick, i forgot to write out your card”

you lean your head back on the seat of the couch, hand patting around the carpet for the remote to turn the TV down, ears straining to hear jungkook shuffling around the bedroom.

he’s quick to slip back into the living room.

you don’t miss the rattle of the box as he sits down, nor do you miss the similar shape and size to your own gift.

you look down at the box sat in your own lap, then back over at jungkook’s gift.

“okay” he claps, “i think you’re gonna love my gift” he beams, and you can’t help the prickly suspicion that flitters up your spine making you sit up a little straighter.

“i think you might love mine” a smile quirks onto your lips.

jungkook places his box between the both of you, gift rattling in its box. and it isn’t until you place his gift next to yours— same little rattle reverberating into the room, does his mind seem to catch up with yours.

“oh” he blinks, pointing to both your gifts then between the both of you.

“there’s no way” you giggle, feet kicking out a little.

“holy shit what if we actually got each other the same gift?” his eyes are wide

“we’ll if you got me, what i got you then there might be a slight issue” you tell him

he nods, “no because… if you got me, what i got you then we definitely will have a problem”

you can’t help the bubbly laughter that spills from your lips, jungkook mirroring your joy.

you push yourself up onto your knees, excitement all encompassing as you kneel over the gifts, arms wrapping around jungkook’s shoulders as the both of you bask in the joy of the other.

“you’re really gonna like my gift” he tells you, lips pressing against your cheek, kiss feather light as another wave of bubbly joy spills from his lips.

“i know because i showed you a photo” you giggle, flopping down into his lap when he opens his thighs a little wider.

your back presses against his chest, quick to pick up the gift you wrapped, handing it to jungkook, who holds it in your lap as you pick up your own gift.

you have to bite your bottom lip to stop another wave of giggles, head tilting to look up at jungkook.

“i love you” he says, a reminder. though you doubt you’d ever be able to truly forget.

“i love you more than i’ll ever be able to say”

his hands leave the wrapped gift, instead holding both your cheeks, pulling you into a kiss.

your attention flickers back to the TV when ELF starts playing, your hand slapping against his thigh “quick! the film is starting”

he hums, fingers pulling apart the wrapping paper, as you do the same.

another laugh rumbles through your chest when you see the familiar little box, the exact same you had for jungkook.

“i think we truly share the same mind” he says as he opens the box, his own gravely laughter vibrating against your back as he sees what it was.

you tilt your head to look up at him, the brightest smile on your face “you really do listen to all the things i like”

“of course, baby” he beams, “you’re not disappointed we got each other the same gift?”

you shake your head, fingers tracing over the silver bracelet. it had only been a fleeting moment, a quick tilt of your screen in jungkook’s direction to show him the cute promise bracelets, magnetic heart charms hung prettily.

his eyes had flickered down to see you’d saved the post, enough incentive for him to find it and get it as a gift.

you pick one of the bracelets from your box, “give me your hand please” you say. and he does.

“you have this one” you clasp it around his wrist, “and i’ll have this one” you take the other bracelet out of his own box.

“why don’t you just put both the ones from your box on?” he smiles.

“because it’s principle. we’re meant to have one each… now you have the other one, and i have this one” you take the second bracelet from your box, “and now we have one each from each other, just like they’re supposed to be”

his lifts up your hand interlacing your fingers as the magnets snap together, completing the little hearts.

“it’s so perfect” you whisper, utterly enamoured by the little charms.

“merry christmas, my love” he leans his chin on your shoulder, smiling at your interlaced fingers.

“merry christmas, kook” you murmur, knocking your cheek against his forehead.

[lesbiansanemi]

Uuggghhhh I don’t wanna go to work today

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 1: December Moon

Character: Elliott Marston (Quigley Down Under) Relationships: Elliott/Mary (OC) Warnings: None

Based on In Another Life

Read on Ao3 or below:

Mary had always loved Christmas, and although living in the Outback with Elliott was far different from London, the spirit of Christmas was still the same. She had thought long and hard about what to get her husband for their first Christmas together - her first thought had been to make him something, but she always made clothes for him, and she wanted to do something a little different for Christmas. So instead, during a trip into Perth, she excused herself from him to go shopping for a gift, one which she had to hide in a crate of fabrics she’d bought in order to avoid his finding it too early.

Knowing his love for the American West, she bought him a book on American ranching. She didn’t quite understand his fascination with American culture, but she knew he’d be delighted to learn more about how to emulate their culture.

He was indeed overjoyed to open the book on Christmas Day, so much so that he began reading it that very same day. On Boxing Day, Elliott disappeared after dinner, and when Mary went looking for him, she found him behind the house, fiddling with a rope.

“What on earth are you doing out here, El? It’s freezing!”

He looked up at her and smiled.

“I’m tying a lasso,” he explained holding up the rope, which he’d tied around in on itself.

“And am I supposed to know what that is?”

“I read about it in the book you bought me. Americans use it to capture cattle.”

“Ah, of course.” Mary smiled. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he found something in that book he wanted to emulate. “How does it work?”

Elliott explained it to her, showing her how the loop would tighten to hold its target. Mary didn’t quite understand how it was any better than his current methods of controlling his cattle, but she wasn’t about to question his work, just as he never questioned hers.

He tried to demonstrate it to her, but although he managed to land the loop over the haybale he was using as target practice, as soon as he tried to tighten the hold, the knot he’d tied fell apart.

Mary giggled. “Well, you’re halfway there, darling.”

“Quiet, you,” Elliott said warningly with a cheeky wink. “We don’t want my men thinking I’m no good at this, do we?”

He began pulling the rope back towards him.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re practising by moonlight! You do realise, of course, it’d be a lot easier in sunlight?”

“Perhaps. But where’s the fun in that?”

He looped the rope around again and began tying another knot, firmer this time, and Mary knew he’d not give up until he had it perfected.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, darling. Don’t stay up too late, will you?”

“Of course not. I’ll be there to keep you warm, don’t you worry.”

Mary smiled, kissed her husband on the cheek, and went back inside, wondering if she ought to have a look at the book herself if there were any details of the American rancher’s fashion, so she might create something for Elliott to make him look the part he admired so much.

Elliott spent days working on his lasso technique. Every evening after dinner, when the sun had gone down, his men had finished their work, and Mary was either working on her tailoring or keeping her diary up to date, Elliott would go around the back and practise with his lasso.

On New Year’s Eve, everyone at the station gathered together to ring in the New Year. Mary mostly stayed by Elliott’s side, but when she became distracted playing a game with Tommy, she realised a little before midnight that she’d lost Elliott.

Not wanting to miss out on a midnight kiss with her husband, Mary went looking amongst the men for Elliott. Kelly pointed her to the barn, but he wasn’t there; O’Flynn suggested he might be in the cellar, where he kept his whisky, but he wasn’t there either. The gathered crowd began counting down to midnight, and Mary stepped glumly down from the porch, disappointed that she couldn’t find Elliott.

As the countdown reached twenty, Mary suddenly saw a length of rope cross her vision, and she found herself pulled aside by the waist; before she could fully comprehend what was happening, she was spinning into Elliott’s arms. He caught her, laughing as she found her footing.

“Well, hello there, little lady,” he said teasingly. “Seems I caught the prettiest girl in all Australia.”

Mary saw the rope in his hands, and realised what had happened - he’d caught her in his lasso.

“It seems you have,” she giggled. “I thought you wanted to lasso cattle, not women?”

“It’s multipurpose. Now, would you entrust your husband with a kiss to start the new year?”

“Of course I will!” Mary agreed enthusiastically. She leant up on her tiptoes, and as the gathered crowd cheered in the new year, Mary’s lips met Elliott’s, and 1865 begun as they intended it to go on - her, in his arms, safe and protected from harm.

[ivegotyourbackbuddie]

Working on the Fourth of July is always an adventure at the 118. Whether that’s a good or bad thing really depends on who you ask.

But when they get the call to a structure fire at an abandoned building with two victims… no one can really say it’s a good thing.

Buck is fidgeting on the way to the scene enough that Eddie nudges his knee as an encouragement to speak what’s on his mind. Buck gives in immediately. “Isn’t it a little early for people to be setting off fireworks?”

“They didn’t specify the cause of the fire,” Bobby replies.

Buck frowns. “But it’s the Fourth of July.”

“It’s also still daylight out,” Hen deadpans.

“And just because it’s the Fourth of July doesn’t mean that all fires are related to the holiday,” Chimney adds, raising his finger. “Remember last year when B shift responded to a house fire caused by a Christmas tree still up during the Fourth of July?”

“It’s what they deserve for leaving up the tree past New Year’s,” Eddie comments flatly.

Buck smiles to himself but can’t help saying, “Don’t let Eddie come over to your house if you do. Unless you want him to take the tree down for you.”

Eddie points his finger at Buck. “Next time, I’ll refuse to come over until it’s gone.” Hen raises an eyebrow at him. Eddie sighs, “Chris would leave up the tree and all the decorations year round if it meant he could get out of cleaning up. Every year he insists on putting up more decorations…”

“And every year, he forgets how much he hates packing them up again,” Buck finishes. “So Eddie gives into the puppy dog eyes until New Year’s Eve.”

Hen laughs. “Denny wishes we gave him that long, but Karen has a strict clean-up schedule two days after Christmas that no one messes with.”

“Athena’s second favorite Christmas activity is putting away all the decorations,” Bobby says with a bright smile.

“And the first?” Chimney asks.

Bobby just smiles. Buck exchanges a look with Eddie. They definitely don’t want to know.

Before anyone can press Bobby for an answer, they begin to approach the scene.

It’s a bit of chaos, but luckily they get things under control while Hen and Chimney tend to the two victims - a blonde girl and a brunette guy - who… very quickly appear to be victims of their own consequences.

As Buck and Eddie are bringing the hose back to the engine they quickly get cut off by the young blonde girl yelling, “Can you get my phone from in there?!” while desperately tugging on Buck’s arm as if she’s begging him to save her cat.

Before Buck can say anything, Athena is at his side, charred phone in hand. “I would say yes, but unfortunately, your phone is going to be placed in evidence.”

“Evidence?” The girl asks. “But we were just doing a TikTok trend!”

“A… what?” Eddie asks.

The girl rolls her eyes. “You know. All these couples are talking about how excited they are to get videos of them kissing with fireworks in the background. And we thought we would beat them to it.”

“By trespassing, setting off fireworks in a building you don’t own, and subsequently committing arson?” Athena asks in disbelief.

The girl shrugs. “It was dark enough inside for the fireworks to show up on camera, and we thought it was tall enough for the fireworks!”

Eddie glances back at the building and frowns. “It’s only two stories tall.”

“Yeah! That's more than tall enough!"

Buck, Eddie, and Athena all stare at her with varying degrees of confusion. Then, Athena shakes her head and leads her away.

Back in the engine, Buck nudges Eddie’s knee. “I was right about the fireworks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but he can’t wipe the fond smile off his face. “I’ve never gotten that trend.”

“You know about a TikTok trend?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No. Just the whole... kissing and fireworks being compared trend.” Buck frowns at him. Eddie continues, “Like… people saying that when you kiss someone fireworks go off. Or the whole 'kissing feels electric' thing. I mean. Do people really buy into that?”

Buck’s face falls when he realizes Eddie isn’t joking. “You’ve never had a kiss like that?” Eddie shakes his head. “You’ve never had a kiss that set every nerve in your body on fire or a kiss that made you get butterflies in your stomach?”

Eddie laughs. “You watch too many romcoms, Buck.”

Buck scoffs and stares out the window for a few moments wondering what it would be like to never experience that type of rush when kissing someone. Sure. Most kisses don’t feel that way, but those with a build-up and all the long-lasting tension that finally snaps the moment you lay your lips on the other person…

“I’m going to make you experience it,” Buck blurts out.

Eddie laughs in disbelief. “What?”

“I’m going to make you experience the fireworks and butterflies and electricity and all that stuff,” Buck decides. His eyes widen as he realizes his blunder. “I-I mean. With your consent of course. I’m not just going to… lay one on you randomly. That’s… not cool. More than uncool! Like… really uncool.”

Eddie glances out the window and laughs as if that's his way of ending the conversation. But then he shrugs and says, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Buck asks.

“Why not? It’s fun to prove you wrong.”

Buck cocks his head to the side and straightens up in his seat. “And what makes you think I won’t have that effect on you?”

Eddie shrugs. “Well, given your history…”

Buck shoves him lightly before leaning over to whisper, “I’ll have you know that none of them ever complained about a lack of spark.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asks, brows slightly raised. His eyes flicker down to Buck’s lips, and Buck thinks he’s got this in the bag already.

“Why don’t you find out?”

There’s a choking noise then Ravi pleads, “Can you please at least do this out of earshot?”

Hen and Chimney complain the rest of the ride about Ravi ruining their free entertainment, and Buck only feels mildly embarrassed that he forgot there was anyone else around. Mainly, he’s relieved that it didn’t happen quite yet. After all, a build-up was required to get the necessary results.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next few hours of the shift are - dare they say - slow. They only have to respond to one incident at a firework stand where a nasty fight broke out over some firework that turned out to be illegal in the state of California. Bobby ended up lingering around the scene for longer than needed just to provide Athena with some much-needed emotional support.

As for Buck… he’s trying to be as normal as possible. But after a heated gym session of constant longing stares between him and Eddie that caused Chimney to uncomfortably announce his departure… Buck is feeling that familiar tension. That overwhelming desire to risk every sane thought he’s ever had and instead give in to all his desires.

And yes. They have a bet going on now that Buck is very much going to win. But at what cost to him? Because after this… Buck thinks any other kiss will be ruined for him.

But he thinks it’ll be worth it to feel everything at once. Or maybe he’ll feel nothing and things don’t have to change. Luckily, he’s sure he and Eddie could get through anything - even Buck’s potentially unwanted feelings.

While the sun is still out, they only get a few calls, and Buck is grateful for the breather they get before the sun starts to set.

Only, he can’t really get his breath to even out when he’s taking every moment he can to linger in Eddie’s space for longer than necessary, eyes dipping down to settle on Eddie’s lips. Their - thankfully - uninterrupted lunch is almost unbearable because Eddie chooses to sit next to him. And of course, when Eddie gets some sauce on his lip, Buck can’t hesitate to wipe at it with his thumb. Just to sell the moment, he licks the sauce off his thumb, and he swears Eddie is about to jump him at the table.

But before anything can happen Bobby calmly says, “Please don’t make me do unnecessary paperwork today.” And Buck immediately turns red and focuses back on his food. He’s pretty sure he sees Chimney hand a ten-dollar bill to Hen, but he’s too distracted thinking about the way Eddie’s eyes had darkened.

“Buck,” Eddie says bringing him back to the current moment, hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Buck glances around the now-empty locker area and nods. “Just preparing for tonight.”

“Are you sure this isn’t about the whole kissing thing?” Eddie asks with a small smile. Buck glances at him nervously. “Because we can call the whole thing off if you’re getting uncomfortable. But trust me. Even if you make me feel fireworks or it’s the worst kiss of my life, nothing has to change between us.”

Buck laughs loudly partially in relief. “You really have such little faith in me.”

Eddie shrugs and steps closer to him. “Maybe I’m just wondering what you’re waiting for.”

The air between them shifts and Buck wonders if Eddie can feel the tension between them and that unexplainable electricity. He thinks the way Eddie’s hand shakes as it reaches up to cup Buck’s face is an indication that he does.

Then, the bell goes off and ruins the moment.

Buck’s nose brushes against Eddie’s as they both step away only to find Chimney and Hen watching them through the glass.

“Can’t experience fireworks with them there,” Buck says dryly. Eddie laughs.

During the drive over, Buck notices the sun is starting to set. Luckily it’s only a twelve-hour shift so they only have a few hours before B shift takes over. But he still has a bad feeling.

And he’s right.

The next few hours are filled with call after call of Fourth of July related accidents. Including not one, not two, but three different couples failing to execute the TikTok trend correctly.

During one of the less serious incidents, while Hen is treating a couple with slight burns to their arms, Buck is able to grab Eddie and ask the couple for advice about the best poses for the trend. He tries each on Eddie who rolls his eyes but allows Buck to go as far as hold him in a dip.

When he catches Bobby's eye, Buck has a full speech prepared about how he’s being a professional by taking their victims' minds off the pain and keeping them entertained. He and Eddie are definitely not just engaging in public displays of affection, and Buck definitely isn't getting distracted by Eddie. But Buck doesn’t have to utter a single word because all Bobby does is give him a fond look before lecturing the couple about firework safety.

From there it's nonstop calls. Between a firework thrown in a grill, a Roman candle fight gone wrong, an allergic reaction to red face paint, and a random case of rat poisoning in a batch of brownies, Buck isn’t able to really do much about the whole kiss situation.

Well, the air between him and Eddie is heavy, and every time they have a moment to look at each other, they nearly forget where they are. But there’s no moment where the actual execution of the kiss is possible.

And before Buck knows it, the next shift comes in to relieve them, and everyone is getting changed into the clothes they came in. For once, Buck doesn’t hesitate to check Eddie out as he strips his shirt off, and Eddie takes an unnecessarily long time to put his blue Henley on - not that Buck is complaining.

Then, they’re walking out of the station together, Eddie rushing so he can get back to Chris in time to see some fireworks together.

They get to Buck’s jeep first, and Buck hesitates for a moment. His heart is practically beating out of his chest when he realizes this is the last moment today that he can really go through with things.

Eddie’s staring at him as if he’s thinking the same thing.

So, Buck takes a deep breath and says, “Who said I had to make you feel fireworks today? Maybe I need to build up to it more.”

There’s a slight look of disappointment on Eddie’s face that he quickly masks when he replies, “Yeah, man. No worries at all. Happy Fourth of July.”

“You too, man,” Buck says and climbs into his Jeep without a second thought.

He watches as Eddie walks away from him, fireworks in the distance giving him a perfect silhouette. And Buck realizes more than anything, he wants to feel those fireworks. And he needs to know if Eddie will feel them too.

“Eddie!” Buck yells as he scrambles to get out of his Jeep. “Eddie!” He yells again as he runs to Eddie just before he gets his truck door open.

Eddie drops his bag onto the ground immediately and lifts his hands to cup Buck’s face as Buck crowds him against his truck and kisses him.

There’s that feeling of the tension finally snapping. The fireworks. The electricity. The butterflies. The fire.

But Buck feels something he’s never felt before.

It feels like taking his first breath of air after being stuck in the middle of a fire. Like the first beat of his heart after stopping for three minutes and seventeen seconds. It feels like coming home.

It’s with great hesitation that Buck breaks the kiss, needing to gauge what Eddie is feeling.

Eddie just stares at him for a few moments, expression mixed with so many emotions it's nearly impossible to read. He nods and says, “Yeah, I get it now. Shit. I get it.” Then he’s pulling him in again only to break the kiss to say, “This absolutely changes things between us but in a good way, right?”

“Yes please,” Buck says with a giddy laugh.

Eddie laughs and tries to kiss him again but finds that they can’t properly kiss when they’re smiling so hard.

Later that night, they get a text in their small 118 group chat of a video from Chimney of their kiss illuminated by the fireworks going off behind them with the caption Looks like you guys won this trend.

Eddie begs him not to post it and encourage people to try to replicate it after the day they had. Buck laughs when Bobby sends them a selfie of him and Athena giving them a thumbs up while holding up paperwork. Thanks for putting off the paperwork until tomorrow.

Secretly, Buck and Eddie love the video and want to post it everywhere - with a PSA on firework safety of course. But they ultimately keep it between themselves and the rest of the 118 family because that’ll always be enough for them.

(Ao3 Link woooo)