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unmotivatedwrit3r · 11 months ago

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Cloudy Christmastime

damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent

(A/N): Before anyone protests, I headcanon the Wayne family as celebrating both Jewish holidays like Yom Kippur and Hanukkah as well as Christmas and Easter because yes, Bruce is ethnically Jewish (though may have done Christmas as well) but Dick/Jason/Tim/Steph would have likely celebrated Christmas. So they do both.

Anyway, this is a christmas gift for @glorified-red and literally the 5th take on this fic bc they first said Hallmark movie, then damijon hallmark movie, then whump. And then it took me three tries to get something I was close to happy with so I hope you enjoy. This ended up being a mix of domestic fluff and h/c.

warnings: sensory overload

wc: ~2600

“Tell me again why Santa doesn’t bring us gifts if he’s real. Like our dads have met him. And he still doesn’t bring us presents,” Jon lamented from the couch, bundled up in four blankets.

From your spot on the floor by the tree, you looked up, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Because we’re not kids anymore? And how do you know Santa ever brought us gifts?”

“Perhaps,” Damian added, passing Jon a cup of hot chocolate. He placed a second cup on the coffee table and lifted one to his lips. “He only brought gifts to people to make a point. I never received any from him as a child but father has gotten many over the years.”

Jon listed to the side, head landing on Damian’s shoulder. “I think that’s worse.”

For the first time in a while, Jon felt Damian’s huff of laughter more than he heard it. Your small chuckle was similarly inaudible. Jon hated solar flaring. Not only was it a pain to deal with for the day and change—one could argue he got either lucky or really unlucky by solar flaring the morning of Christmas Eve—but it always threw his senses out of whack as they trickled back in. And, with the gray skies of Gotham’s winter, Jon was expecting it to be even weirder than usual. It was worth it though, to him, in order to spend the day itself with his partners. It was enough that the Kent family Christmas Eve was ruined by Lex Luthor. He wasn’t going to let his Christmas day be ruined too.

“I’m sorry, mi sol,” you offered with a shrug and a smile. Jon met your grin with his own. A full-body shiver wracked his frame. Your gaze turned concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “Just chilly.” Damian’s arm wrapped further around Jon, pulling their sides flush against each other. Jon maneuvered the blankets away to soak in his warmth.

“Ameli, we can turn the heat up,” Damian offered.

“Nope,” Jon argued, nuzzling into Damian’s neck. “This is good.” Damian’s resulting huff of air teased at the hair on the top of Jon’s head.

“Mi luna?” You asked from the floor. Damian turned to look at you. Jon followed, eyes traveling over the mound of presents arranged under the tree. There was a pile around the back of the tree against the wall for Damian’s family (Jon still needed to give Dick his gift from the Hanukkah celebration a couple weeks ago. The blue dreidel paper was obvious against the sea of brown, red, and green wrapping paper.), and a smaller one for yours. The empty gap left behind after the Kent Christmas was already filled in with a large box Jon was like ninety percent sure was a new easel for Damian. You ordered it, not him, but Jon couldn’t think of anything else on any of your lists that was even close to that size. “Can you hand me that please?” You gestured to a precarious stack on the coffee table.

Damian acquiesced, passing over a teetering pile of vaguely book-shaped items. Who those were for was anyone’s guess. Jon was grateful Alfred had helped you and him pay for some of the gifts for Damian. Looking at the gift tags, it otherwise would have been horribly uneven. And Damian himself wouldn’t have minded, Jon knew, but you and him would have been upset about it anyway. He deserves the world, your rohi. Damian pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you, still arranging presents under the tree. He showed it quickly to Jon before texting it to him immediately.

“This look okay?” You asked, peeking out from behind the tree. Jon looked it over. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly, but he also wasn’t exactly the reigning opinion on artistic presentation.

“It looks fine, hayati” Damian said, eyes still trained on his phone. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You didn't even look.”

Damian turned to look at you. “Because I knew it looked fine, beloved.” His eyes scanned the presents. “And it does.”

You shook your head at him, exasperated, before conceding and sitting heavily on the couch. Scooching in, you nearly pressed up against Jon’s other side.

“Come closer,” He whined, untangling a hand from the blankets to grab yours. “You’re warm.”

Jon could feel the look exchanged over his head.

“I’m not that warm,” you argued even as you grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and arranged the blankets so that you could fit underneath. “You’re just cold.”

Jon shrugged. The hand that wasn’t holding yours reached underneath Damian’s shirt and he swore, grabbing Jon’s wrist to keep its chill away. Another look passed over Jon’s head. He wondered sometimes if the two of you were aware he knew what you were doing and just didn’t care. Probably.

“Are you sure you’re okay, amorcito?” You asked. Jon shrugged.

“It’s cold outside and I’m human but otherwise yeah. I have you two,” he added smugly. Damian’s playful shoulder hit came at the same time as your muttered “sap.” Jon grinned. “So because I’m sick—sort of—I get to pick the movie. And we’re watching Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Despite the protests on both sides, the movie was playing before Damian could even get up to turn the lights off. To the side of the couch, the lights on the Christmas tree bathed the room in a soft white glow.

Jon awoke to a cold bed. On a good day, he’d wake with the sun—or whenever it wormed its way through the bedroom’s black out curtains—or to an international emergency. Okay, not that the emergency was good, just that he was feeling good enough to know it was happening. On a bad day, all bets were off. Jon stuck his hand out of the covers, searching blindly for his phone. After a moment of finding nothing but the wood of the end table, the scratchiness of the sheets was unignorable and he gave up, flinging back the covers to get out of bed. Hanging over the side of the dresser was a dark red sweatshirt. Jon grabbed it and tugged it on, rubbing his arms to get the lingering echo of the sheets off his skin. His off kilter super hearing zeroed in on the crooning of Michael Bublé before zooming back out into the general background noise coming from the kitchen. Jon winced, squaring his shoulders. That was a bad sign. But it was Christmas; he’d be fine.

A quick squint at his phone told Jon that it was just after noon. No wonder the bed was cold. Jon shivered, then grabbed a pair of your fuzzy socks before opening the bedroom door.

The smell of cinnamon and chocolate coming from the kitchen was pleasant rather than unbearable. Jon let himself breathe it in as he approached quietly. He didn’t even notice you behind him—though that was often true of an average day—before there were arms around his waist and a head on his shoulder. He let himself lean back into the warmth of you.

“Merry Christmas, mi amor. How are you feeling?” you inquired. Hot breath ghosted across his neck. Jon shrugged.

“Fine. Excited for today.” He spun around to face you, eyes taking in your christmas pj pants and sweater with a Robin logo. Over your shoulder, Jon could see flashes of blue, likely Damian’s nightwing sweatshirt. “Merry Christmas,” he added, tucking his nose into the spot just underneath your ear for just a moment. No matter what his super senses were like, he took comfort in the smell of the two of you. A hand weaved through his hair, a kiss pressed to the top of his head. Jon pulled back just enough to give you a peck on the lips before being spun around into a kiss from Damian.

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Jon muttered, pressing a second lingering kiss to Damian’s jawline. A steady heartbeat pulsed under his fingers, wrapped around Damian’s wrist.

“Good morning,” Damian said, wrapping an arm around Jon to keep him close. Jon blindly reached out and a second calloused hand found his. A second warm body curled around him. He missed your heartbeats’ song in his ears, but Damian’s pounding steadily under his ear and yours fluttering underneath his fingertips was good enough for right then. “Are you alright?” Damian continued. “It’s late.” His voice was echoey underneath Jon’s ear and Jon flinched instinctively. The two of you reacted immediately, pulling back.

“Jon?” you asked, voice laced with concern.

“Yeah,” he managed. “I’m mostly good. About as expected, you know?” Jon offered up a smile. By the looks on your faces, it didn’t do as much reassurance as he’d hoped. “I’m sorry I slept so late.”

“Don’t apologize,” Damian argued. “There is no reason to.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon sighed.

“How are you feeling about breakfast, mi sol?” You asked, tangling your fingers with his.

“Sounds good,” Jon agreed.

“Oh yeah I should definitely send Dick a text to thank him. And also say Merry Christmas,” Jon said, flopping down on the couch after breakfast. With his partners looking happy, Christmas music in the background, and a breakfast of vegan pancakes in his stomach, Jon could almost forget about the buzzing under his skin.

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “He would have swapped with me anyway. Gordon and Father are both working tonight so it was pointless for him to have the evening off.”

Jon shrugged. “Still, doesn’t hurt to say thanks.”

“Say hi from me too,” you yelled over the running kitchen sink. After a moment more, the water shut off and Jon released a silent sigh at the absence of an irritating bit of noise. He was lucky the x-ray vision hadn’t started acting up. Not only was that like the antithesis of Christmas presents (his mom kept presents out of the house or in a lead box until morning for that very reason), but it was also a huge pain and the hardest to hide. Screwy touch and hearing was more than enough. Dishware clanked around in the kitchen as Damian sat beside Jon on the couch.

“No change?” He asked, reaching for a Nightwing mug of cider on the coffee table.

Jon shrugged. “Nope, nothing yet.” Damian narrowed his eyes and Jon attempted to start coming up with excuses. At the very least, he could probably get Damian to leave it alone until after gifts. Less so if you noticed too and started teaming up on him.

“Ready for presents?” You asked, sitting down on the other side of Damian. You raised the untouched Superman mug to your lips, eyes scanning over Jon.

“Yes!” Jon butt in before you could say anything. “Let’s do it.”

You and Damian exchanged a look. On the floor below, the elevator dinged, releasing a family with a horde of kids. “Okay,” you conceded, standing to grab the first load of presents.

In the apartment directly underneath, the front door squealed open. A load of presents was slammed down on the floor beside him. Three kids squealed “gramma!” in unison. Jon’s hoodie was all of the sudden suffocating him.

Jon jumped up and yanked the sweatshirt over his head, pawing the sleeves off before yanking his socks off too. He didn’t care where they ended up. His hands went up to press against his ears. Stumbling over his own feet, Jon meandered backwards until his back slammed into a wall and then slid down, knees up and head with ears still covered in between them. Sounds zoomed in and out. All of the sudden, he could hear Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer playing eight floors down, then A Christmas Carol on someone’s TV across the street. Focus! Jon yelled at himself through all the noise. One steady beat came into focus, then another.

Until there was a soft item brushing his feet, Jon didn’t realize he had company. A steady beat pulsed in his ears, too loud even for its familiarity. He pulled the blanket close. Something plastic nudged his shoulder and Jon grabbed it instinctively, slamming special-made headphones over his ears. The sounds faded down into something manageable. Jon took a deep breath. And then another. He didn’t need to hear to know that the two of you were there. When he reached out tentatively with his sense of smell, the usual wave of cinnamon-vanilla-brown sugar-clove and somethings just the two of you tempered by pine and peppermint was comforting rather than overwhelming. Jon let it wash over him, clutching the soft weighted blanket to his chest.

When he cracked his eyes open, two blurs blinked into focus as his partners, leaning against the back of the couch and hands linked. Damian’s head rested on your shoulder, one of your hands tangled in his hair. Jon noticed as soon as Damian saw he was up. He almost slammed his head into your chin as he shot up and Jon huffed a laugh.

“Ameli?” Damian asked. Your eyes locked onto Jon’s.

“You guys shouldn’t sit on the floor,” Jon responded. “It’s bad for your backs.”

You offered Jon a hand, ignoring his remark completely. Jon’s chest ached. If you weren’t willing to banter, he’d scared you. “How are you feeling?”

Jon took the hand and stood, adjusting the headphones so they stayed on his head. He tossed the blanket over his shoulder and reached his other hand out towards Damian before tugging the both of you up and towards the couch.

“I’m okay,” Jon reassured you, sitting down on the couch. “I promise.” When neither of you moved, he tugged you both down on top of him, interrupting the bat-assessment written all over Damian’s face.

“Promise like this morning?” Damian argued. Jon winced.

“Okay, yeah maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“Been a self-sacrificial dumbass as if we don’t a) know you and b) want you to talk to us?” You cut in. Jon could read the hurt underneath the anger clear as day. His fingers brushed over two sets of knuckles, one scarred from years of fighting without protective gear, the other dry from the winter air.

“I know. I just wanted today to be a good day, you know? We never get uninterrupted holidays.” Jon resisted the urge to pull his hands away from yours and curl into himself. The two burning gazes on him were ones of love and concern, though, not judgment.

“And for some reason you think accommodating you makes the day worse, why?” Damian asked. Jon didn’t have an answer.

“We love you, Jon. Eres nuestro pareja. We picked ‘partners’ for a reason, yeah?” You squeezed his hand in yours.

“Yeah,” he agreed, head dropping to your shoulder. Silence was heavy in the room for a moment.

“You choose what we do next,” Damian stated, tugging the blacket from its bundled blob to instead cover you and Jon.

Jon moved from your shoulder to halfway on top of Damian, tugging you on top of him. “You guys are going to squish me in between you while we watch a movie and then we can do presents?”

You shot him a wicked smile. Jon shrieked as Damian pulled him bodily half on top of him along the couch, cut off when you landed nearly on top of Jon.

“Good?” You asked. Jon let himself sink into Damian, arms coming up to wrap around your waist.

“Yeah,” he said. “Good.”

Damian grabbed the remote. “We’re not watching Elf.”

Jon stuck his tongue out at him.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #jon kent x reader #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent x gender neutral reader #emerson writes sometimes

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blurglesmurfklaine · 2 years ago

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Work Friends: A Holiday Romance

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson Rating: G (but there are a few f bombs bc i’m me) Words: 4,817 Genres/Tropes: Holiday, Co-Wokers!Klaine, Teachers!Klaine, Friends to Lovers

Summary: Kurt isn't thrilled about who he's drawn for the Grant Middle School Secret Santa, but if it means he gets to go gift shopping with Blaine--the choir teacher he's had a crush on and good friend of three years--then maybe it won't be that bad.

A/N: What's crackin ladies, gays, and nonbinary theys???

First off: HUUUUGE thanks to @esperantoauthor and @blangsty-days for their help with finding a title! It was much appreciated <3333

Second:

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!! (to those who celebrate! and to those who don't, I hope you're having an awesome Saturday and/or Hanukkah and early Kwanza!)

Anyway, here's some workplace romance/friends to lovers fluff because as miss t swizzle says: tis the damn season (and I've written enough angsty holiday fic last year so i thought to even it out). HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY!

***

Kurt looks at the name written in the paper before him with a tiny scowl. He doesn’t have enough evidence to prove it, but there’s something off about Mr. Ryerson. Maybe it’s the way he decorated his room with vintage collectible porcelain dolls, and the way he looks at Kurt like he’s one he’s yet to collect.

That being said, he’s not exactly thrilled to have drawn his name for the faculty secret Santa.

What do you get a total creep like that?

More dolls? A nail file to break him out of prison when the FBI inevitably discovers bodies under his porch? Therapy?

“Who’d you get?”

Blaine’s voice breaks Kurt out of his pondering state and he makes a face, frowning as he flashes Blaine the name on his piece of paper. “Ryerson. You?”

Continue Reading on AO3

#klaine #glee #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #wow look at me im writing!

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bl00d-bunny · 2 years ago

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Hello Hello Hello!! I'm On Ao3

I hope everyone had a merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, happy holidays, or just a good few days for those who celebrate!!!

I am now on Ao3!! You can find me here. You can also find the link on my navigation. Over the next few days, I will be adding all my current works there and then I will just keep it up to date as I post here. So if you prefer to read on ao3 or just want to support me there you now can!!!

Anyway I'm going to bed I love you all <3

#bunny blogs #bunny on a03 #a03 writer

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therealeagal · 1 year ago

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Happy Winter Yulewanzukkahmastice!

I added winter solstice to the list. Don't know why I didn't think of that before.

Also, I remembered to look up what day Hanukkah is this year. At first I was going to wait because it seemed gauche to dedicate my Yulewanzukkahmas post of the year to it because of...reasons...

But then I remembered I don't give a shit.

If someone was bad this year, they can take a hike, but if they're just tangentially connected by six degrees of separation to someone who did bad, I want you to give them a big hug and tell them that they are beautiful. Because honestly, after enough separated degrees we're all connected to someone who done someone else dirty.

So do-badders, take a hike. Everyone else, I'm sending you virtual hugs. You're beautiful.

Love and joy to everyone, everywhere, of every make and model. That's my motto. Actually, my motto is "Eagal is always right" because I quite often am, but if I had a second motto it would be the love and joy thing.

So Hanukkah! It starts today and ends on the 15th.

Next year it starts on December 25. YES! TAKE THE HOLIDAY AWAY FROM THE FAT MAN! HE DESERVES IT!

So Hanukkah! Happy Hanukkah, those of you, my children, who are Jewish. I'm sending you many hugs. You're beautiful.

As for the rest of you, whatever holidays you celebrate and whenever you celebrate them, whether during the winter or even in the middle of June, I hope you have and/or had a good one. I'm sending you hugs too. You're also beautiful.

Those of you that choose to continue to support Santa and his holiday, even though the fat man is my sworn enemy and even though I strongly encourage you to abandon him to dwindle into obscurity as he rightly deserves for his crimes against me, I won't hold it against you. Cheers!

As for you, Nick. Stay on your toes, old man. I'm coming for you one of these years. I'd hate to catch you off guard. It wouldn't sporting if we didn't have a proper duel to the death.

#yule #kwanzaa #hanukkah #christmas #winter solstice #winter holidays #santa claus

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teddybasmanov · 2 years ago

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Well well, it's been a minute hasn't it, voyeur?

Just wanted to call by and wish you a merry christmas, happy holidays, whatever you prefer. Wouldn't quite feel like I'd finished working through everyone everything on my holiday season to-do list without stopping by... So here I am, at your service.

Is there anything I can do to help you get into the festive spirit? Are you comfortable? Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Cold? ...I'm sure I could think of several things we could do about those problems...but, as I understand it, surprise gifts tend to be quite common this time of year, and I'd hate to see you reach any sort of...conclusion, too soon... Besides, I haven't unwrapped any presents yet, and whilst you look quite remarkable in that outfit, I'm sure we could make an occasion of unwrapping you...

I know people tend to feel strange about christmas, a holiday that comes and goes as quick as anything...You spend all month preparing and then before you know it - it's over. Rest assured, I'd make sure any activities we get up to tonight reach far more satisfying conclusions. In fact, while we're on the topic of christmas always ending too soon...well, as far as I'm concerned the night's still young... how would you feel about dragging as much out of christmas as we can? I mean, people are always complaining that it's "over too soon" (a complaint I'm yet to hear in a personal capacity but nevertheless-), surely it'd be positively sinful if we didn't take advantage of every. last. second...gosh, we might just have to stay up all...night...long.....

I hope you've had a restful day my deviant, because it's going to be a very busy night...

-G x

Well, I'm not the man to believe in Christmas miracles, but when one stands right in front of me in the flesh... (Maybe you're a Hanukkah miracle, though, who knows.)

You see, here's a thing, Gavin - I don't celebrate Christmas - I celebrate New Year, so we have almost a week to reach any kind of conclusion we want. Wrap and unwrap any presents we can get out hands on. And hey, good things come to those who wait - I was planning to wear a mini-skirt on New Year eve - talk about festive wrapping. ;)

So, no need to drag on anything (unless you want to drag something across my skin) - we have more than enough time to be very very thorough.

No worries though, you don't need to tell me to rest twice - I'll be resting and thinking of you - that's definitely enough to give me a festive mood.

I hope your holidays are going well and you're not working too hard on completing you end-of-the-year bucket list - you deserve rest too. :)

#and the post with transfers flies from the mainland #beloved incubus anon

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something-tofightfor · 3 years ago

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More Than You Could Ever Know

Pairing: Joel Miller (TLOU) x Female Reader (Just Too Good to Be Gone AU)

Word Count: 5,352

Rating: R. Language, talk of character death, implied smut but nothing explicit. It’s angsty but it’s also very Christmassy.

THERE ARE MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE LAST OF US (and these likely will also be spoilers for the first season of the show. Continue reading at your own risk.)

Summary: In order to keep Joel’s Christmas surprise a secret, you have to be evasive with him about where you’re at and what you’re doing ... and he doesn’t like it much. But it’s all worth it in the end - especially when he learns what it is you managed to pull off.

Author’s note: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE, FRIENDS. (to those of you that celebrate ... and happy Friday to everyone else!) I know there’s a lot of celebrating coming up for a lot of people, but I wanted to get this out so that some of you would have things to read in your down time today and tomorrow. It’s really hard to imagine a Christmas set in the TLOU world, so I did my best ... and I hope you enjoy it.

I won’t say that this is all because @thepoisonofgod alerted me to a picture of Joel’s massive arm last week or because I found one of them to send @the-blind-assassin-12, but I also won’t say that it isn’t.... you’ll see.

Suggested musicial pairing: All I Want For Christmas (Is You) by Mariah Carey, as if the title wasn’t enough of a hint ...but not for the actual song - just for the lyrics.

Just Too Good To Be Gone Masterlist

You couldn’t help your wince as the sound of the door slamming echoed throughout the lower level of the house. It’s going to be fine, he’ll understand. You hadn’t seen what he was wearing when he left, but you hoped that at the very least, Joel had pulled a jacket over his flannel, because it was definitely cold enough outside.

Winter seemed to arrive in Jackson earlier each year, and although there’d been plenty of bright and sunny days, the entire community was blanketed in a thick layer of snow. The streets and sidewalks were kept as clear as possible, thanks to all of the residents and children, who looked forward to each winter the same way you had as a child.

Tapping your hand twice on the countertop before heading out of the kitchen and toward the stairs, you let yourself remember back to the days you’d spent outside with your friends - having snowball fights, sledding down local hills, skating at indoor rinks and even on some occasions the soles of your shoes across icy streets and sidewalks. Jackson’s safety meant that winter activities were more than possible for adults and children alike - and in the twenty years you’d been in Wyoming, you’d been a part of more snowball fights and fort-building activities than you could count. Some things don’t change, you admitted to yourself as you pulled a sweater on over the shirt you wore.

And that was a good thing, in most cases. Keeping traditions and memories alive was one of the ways that you and the other Jackson residents had endured everything following the outbreak, and along with winter and snow came the cold-weather holidays, too. The town had always decorated for them; a large fir tree in the center of the main road, homemade and salvaged ornaments on the branches in the years you’d spent without electricity, lights added when the generators and power had come back. There’d been an almost endless supply of candles for other holidays like Kwanzaa and Hanukkah, and as the permanent population had increased, small touches of other holidays had ingrained themselves into Jackson, too.

You hadn’t been surprised that of the sentimental objects people had kept or brought with them when they fled their homes, holiday items had been some of the most common. And it wasn’t just physical items, either; Jackson’s residents had compiled cookbooks filled with previously closely-guarded family recipes, written out holiday traditions and memories, and contributed whatever they could spare in an attempt to keep not only their memories alive - but also those of the people that they’d lost before and during the end of their previous lives. We’re survivors. All of us.

With a final look into Joel’s workshop, you frowned at the sight of the spotless tabletop. You weren’t used to it being so clean, but that day, there were no wood shavings, a telltale sign that the man had been busy building or fixing something. You hadn’t heard him cleaning, nor had you seen him getting rid of anything, and you didn’t know when he’d had the time. Must have been while I was gone. With a shake of your head, you made your way back downstairs, grabbing your coat from the hook in the hallway and heading out the front door.

To your surprise, Joel was still on the front porch, arms crossed as he leaned against the railing. He put his coat on. You couldn’t help smiling at the sight of him in the well-worn jacket, and even though he didn’t turn to look at you at the sound of the door opening and shutting, you took a half step closer to him, clearing your throat. “I’m gonna head over to Tommy and Maria’s, Joel. I’ll give you some -” “That really where you’re goin’, or are you gonna sneak off somewhere by yourself again?” He still didn’t turn his head and look at you. Instead the man continued to focus on the houses across the street. “Because it seems like you’ve been doin’ that a lot lately.” Finally, the man met your eyes and you watched as he shrugged his shoulders, eyes narrowing. “And you were mad at me when I got back because I didn’t -”

“I’m going to see your brother and sister in law. That’s it.” You refused to take the bait, because the last thing you wanted to do was argue with him. Not on Christmas Eve. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, maybe less.” He was still watching you closely, the look on his face no longer angry. Instead, he looked slightly hurt, and it made you move closer, reaching for him. You wanted to touch his face, to slide your fingers along his jaw and swipe a thumb over the apple of his cheek, but knew that he’d likely pull away from you if you tried.

So you settled for laying a hand flat against his arm, the soft material of his sleeve beneath your palm. I wish I could explain right now, but I can’t. “Please don’t leave Jackson. It’s gonna be dark soon, and you… I don’t want to worry about you bein’ alone.”

“I’m not, Joel. I’m just going to their place to help Maria with something. It’s for tomorrow, and -”

“Promise me.” He straightened up, the look in his eyes changing again as he reached for you, the tips of his fingers digging gently into your shoulder.

“I promise. And when I get back, Joel? Maybe we can sit down and talk about earlier. Because I don’t -” “Go.” He nodded in the direction of his brother’s house, cutting you off. “I’ll be here when you get back.” Before you could reply, he leaned in, kissing the top of your head, and then the man let go of you, standing up straight before he turned and walked back toward the front door. “Be careful, too. Street’s a little icy.”

When the door shut behind him that time, it didn’t slam - and instead of wincing, you stared at the wooden door, lips pressed tightly together.

“You got everything?” She was sitting at the kitchen table, one hand propping her chin up. “I know it’s only one box, but…

“Yeah.” You held it out in front of you, letting her see. “Right here.” The woman smiled up at you, her eyes on your face.

“As soon as he opens that, he’s gonna forget you two argued. He’s like his brother, and -” She stopped as Tommy entered the room, a steaming mug in each hand. “They’re both hardheaded.” “Me and Joel?” He scoffed, setting down the mugs and stepping over to where you stood. “If I’m hardheaded, that man is a fuckin’ concrete slab.” You couldn’t help laughing at his comment, agreeing with a quick nod. “He’s just worried about losin’ someone else, you know? Once you finally tell him you weren’t alone when we left Jackson, it’ll all be fine.” I hope so.

“If you say so.” Tommy pulled you into a tight hug, the hand holding the box barely making it out from between your bodies in time.

“I know so. My brother’s a lotta things, but he ain’t stupid. He sees this?” Tommy gestured to the box, head shaking back and forth. “He’ll get why you kept what you were doin’ from him.”

“Thank you again for your help. I never would have … I wouldn’t have known what to look for. And it might not be exactly right, but it -” “No, it is. Trust me on that.” It was all you could do, and you were content to do it, so you thanked him again and said goodnight to Maria, telling her that if everything went well, you’d be back over the following day for dinner with Joel and Ellie. “You’re more than welcome here even if he doesn’t want to come,” Tommy called out to you as you walked down their front steps, the box held tightly in both hands. “Bring Ellie, and leave Grumpy at home.” You laughed at that, breath visible in the cold night air, but by the time you were nearly back to the home that the two of you shared, you were nervous again.

But that time, it wasn’t because of the argument you’d gotten into before you left. It was because of what you carried in your hands, the brightly wrapped package suddenly seeming much heavier than it had only minutes earlier. It’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be… fine.

You’d known Joel for more than two years, and it would technically be the second Christmas that you celebrated together, but it was the first where you had an actual gift for him that didn’t involve cooking or something you’d made - and that was the problem. Because gifts now, they’re… different. It wasn’t as easy as going into a Target and buying things, or clicking a few buttons online and having packages delivered to your door a few days later. There were people that specialized in handmade items like clothing or tools, and you knew that there were even a few that had splurged on non-essential items like Joel’s handcrafted guitars and carvings.. He’s made three guitars in the last six months, and I can’t even count the number of hours he’s spent in that workshop with his other tools.

That was why seeing it so clean and tidy had shocked you earlier. You didn’t know what he charged for his pieces, or how many he took on at a time, but it wasn’t uncommon for you to come home from shifts in the greenhouses or community center and find him working, shoulders hunched and pieces of wood coming to life in his hands. He’d doubled down after returning from the supply run, which is why it had been so easy for you to slip out of the house for hours unnoticed and do what you’d set out to do for him. Maybe that’s why he noticed, though. You considered things as you made your way up the front walk, the porch illuminated by the mounted light. Because as he was slowing down, he didn’t have as much to focus on.

Using one hand to open the front door, you stepped into the main hallway, and the first thing you noticed was the smell. Cinnamon? He… Rather than calling out, you shut the door behind you, fingers tightening around the box you held, and then moved deeper into the house, a smile threatening to lift the corners of your mouth.

Not only did the house smell like cinnamon, but it was almost entirely dark, too, and the light coming from the living room was dim and flickering. He lit a fire. You felt your heart thumping against your ribs, but there was still no sign of the man, though you knew that he wouldn’t be far. Setting the box down on the side table, you unzipped your coat and re-hung it, straightening your sweater and then removed your boots, lining them up against the wall. “Joel?” Calling out his name, you peered into the kitchen, which was empty. “Are you here?”

‘’M comin’.” He was upstairs, you realized at the sound of his voice and the creak of the floorboards. “Be right down.” Telling him you’d wait in the other room, you headed back in that direction, grabbing the gift again and sticking it behind the couch pillow before turning back toward the doorway. He appeared a few moments later, the man clearing his throat as he entered the room, and at the sight of him you couldn’t keep quiet, a gasp leaving your mouth. He looks… I’ve never…

It was more common than not to see people in Jackson dressed for comfort, conserving soap and shampoo by altering their bathing schedules, but in the time that you’d been gone, Joel had not only taken a shower, but he’d trimmed his beard and mustache and - and changed into an outfit that you’d never seen him wear before, a fresh, clean long-sleeved shirt and what looked to be a new pair of jeans. “You clean up real nice, Miller.” Speaking quietly, you eyed him. “What’s the occasion?”

“I owe you an apology.” That stunned you, and so did the look on his face in the flickering light as he reached a hand toward you. He was truly sorry, the man’s eyes full of remorse. “I shouldn’t have gotten so mad about you leavin’. You know this area better than I do, and if you felt safe enough to go somewhere by yourself, I gotta understand that -”

“I wasn’t by myself, Joel.” You squeezed his hand, letting him pull you closer. “But I couldn’t tell you who I was with, because it would have led to more questions that I couldn’t answer until …” You reached up with your free hand, touching his face the way you’d wanted to earlier that day. “Until I give you your Christmas present.” He leaned into your hand, eyes closing halfway as you spoke. “I know it’s dangerous. And I wouldn’t ever put myself into a position like that if I could help it.” He nodded, the fingers of his free hand working their way beneath your top, the pressure against your bare skin firm. “I accept your apology, but you didn’t have to give me one, because I understand why you were mad. I just hope…” You closed your eyes, taking a long breath. “I just hope that you understand why I lied to you about all of this when you see it.”

“I am sorry, though.” He said your name, waiting until you were looking into his eyes to continue. “And it shouldn’t have taken Ellie tellin’ me I was bein’ an asshole to realize it. But the thought of you out there, alone? In the snow?” He scoffed, lip curling slightly. “Gets real cold, real fast, and -” “Ellie called you an asshole?” Biting your lip, you raised an eyebrow. “When?”

“‘Bout ten minutes after you left earlier. She heard the end of our argument and then the door slammin’ and was waiting until you were gone to let me have it. That girl really likes you, you know that? Said I needed to trust you and reminded me that you’re perfectly capable of takin’ care of yourself.” That sounds like Ellie. Though she was barely seventeen, Ellie’s insight was often much deeper than people gave her credit for - and she wasn’t afraid to share it.

“She’s about the only one here that could talk to you like that, Joel. Maybe Tommy, too. But -” “An’ you.” He cleared his throat. “So she said her piece and told me I needed to make it up to you. Then she left, somethin’ about a party with her friends, and so I… tried.” He ducked his head down, pressing his lips to yours briefly. “Couldn’t do much more than a fire and a couplea those cinnamon sticks in some water, but the last thing I wanna do is fight with you on Christmas.”

“Then don’t.” The hand on his face slid back, your fingers moving through his hair and tugging, pulling his mouth back to yours. “No reason to fight.” He agreed with a kiss, lips firmly locked with yours, and it only took moments for his hold on you to change, the hand moving up from your lower back to the center of it, fingers splayed so that you could feel the entire thing against you. It was you that urged the kiss deeper, teasing along the top edge of his bottom lip with your tongue, and that’s all it took; the man changing the angle of his kiss, lips parting for you.

He groaned quietly, pulling his hand from yours and then moving it over your denim-clad hip and around, all four of his fingers pushing their way into the back pocket of your jeans to draw you even closer. It caught you off guard but you didn’t complain, sighing as you exhaled through your nose, your free hand holding his elbow. He pulled back first, pressing quick kisses to the corner of your mouth and then your chin, and when he spoke, you heard the need in his voice and could tell that he didn’t want to stop kissing you - but knew that if he didn’t, the rest of the night would be lost. I wouldn’t mind that though, not… not at all. “Do I gotta wait to give you your present? I know it’s not Christmas yet, but…”

“No.” You cleared your throat, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. “No, you don’t, because then I don’t either, and…” You met his gaze once more, letting yourself grin. “And I want to give you your present, Joel.” His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile, but before he let you go, the man leaned down to kiss you again.

In that one, you felt his apology - the gentle pressure of his lips against yours, the way they lingered, the subtle tightening of his hands. Joel wasn’t a man that did apologies, but you were getting one all the same. “You first.” He cleared his throat, exhaling and then led you back to the couch, telling you to sit. You did as he asked, eyes on the man as he left the room briefly and came back holding a wooden box between both hands. “Ain’t much, but I thought … here.”

Taking a seat next to you, he handed the box over, and you were surprised to feel that it was heavier than you’d imagined, a slight rattle reaching your ears as whatever was inside shifted. You could smell the oil on the pieces of wood, the sides notched together seamlessly, and as you ran your fingers over the smooth surface, you felt a familiar mark on the bottom of one side. “Did you make the box?” Glancing up, he nodded at you in confirmation. “It’s really nice, Joel. I can use it for -” “‘S not your gift. You gotta look inside.” He ducked his head, then looked back at you. “C’mon, I -” With a quiet laugh, you set it down onto your thighs, using both hands to lift the top of the box off. Before looking down, you carefully set the piece next to you on the cushion - wanting to savor the moment. It had been a long time since anyone had taken the time to give you an actual gift, and with the way Joel was acting, you could tell that he was nervous about whether or not you’d like what he’d chosen. But how could I not? It’s from him, and…

Bringing your eyes down to the contents of the box, you felt them dampen in the corners when you saw what it was, fingers freezing just above the lip of the container. “Oh, Joel… you…” “I remember when we were talkin’ about before. You told me … told me that as a kid, you an’ your family used to ride the Amtrak up into the city, and when you saw the top of the Sears tower, you knew you were close.” The tears that had gathered were stinging your eyes as they slipped out, your fingers closing around the item that was nestled against a piece of soft cloth on the bottom of the box. “I wish it was as simple as gettin’ on a train again. As spending a couple hours traveling just to take you back there so you could see it, but … I can’t. So I brought it to you.”

You couldn’t speak in return even as you listened to his words because you were so focused on the item you held, turning it over in your fingers. It wasn’t more than eleven or twelve inches tall at most, but you knew what it was immediately; the shape of the blocky building enhanced by the glimmering spikes sticking out of the top of it. “Joel, how…” Finally forcing a few words out, you transferred it into one hand, using the other to swipe at your cheeks. “You even painted the windows? Where did -”

“Traded a couple of my carvings for the right color paints. Onea the girls Ellie knows suggested usin’ crushed up makeup to make it shine, and so I tried it. Eyeshadow or somethin’. Only needed black and two different colors of silver, so…” He let out a breath. “It worked. It looks almost like the pictures from the books I used as a model.”

“It did.” There was still a lump in your throat - one that seemed to be growing larger by the second - but with one final glance down at the item you held - a carved wooden replica of the Sears Tower that anyone around before would have recognized - you said Joel’s name and then leaned forward, catching him off guard when you threw your arms around his shoulders. “It does. It’s perfect, Joel. I can’t believe you remembered that, we talked about that so long ago -

“Of course I remembered it. I listen real close when you tell me things about yourself. I don’t always like hearin’ ‘em, but… I listen.” He was holding you close, your forehead pressed against the side of his neck so that you could feel it moving as he spoke. “Do you like it? I -” “I love it, Joel. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s done for me in … as long as I can remember.” Straightening back up, you nodded down at the carving, then carefully put it back into the box, replacing the lid before you put it down. It’s time. It’s time now, and he’s either gonna love it or… “I hope you like yours, too.” Without looking away, you reached behind you, hand pushed beneath the pillow to grab your gift to him.

He took it from your hands, turning it over a few times and then met your eyes. “Wrapping paper? Where’d you find this?”

“It was actually in Maria’s basement, believe it or not. There were a couple rolls down there. No tape though, so I had to get creative and use wax on the edges.” He chuckled at that, sliding one long finger beneath a folded piece of the paper to tear it open. You wondered what he’d been like on holidays before - how he’d approached wrapping and unwrapping presents with his daughter, with his ex - even with Tommy - but as he removed the paper from the box, you realized that it didn’t really matter. Because I see what he’s like now, and that’s… this is important.

He crumpled the paper up and then glanced up at you before he opened the box, folding the cardboard top back as carefully as he could. Using one hand, the man moved the tissue paper out of the way and then froze in place, his grip on the box tightening. “What is this?” He was surprised, and you could see that his eyes were on the contents of the box, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Where did you -” “I didn’t have to go far out of town, Joel.” Wetting your lips, you spoke quietly. “We started looking in the storehouses here, and then moved to Wilson. I … I needed Tommy’s help, because there was so much to go through, and because he was the only one that really knew what to look for. So we only went out on the days he could come with me. We were gonna go out once more if we needed to - all the way up to Teton Village, but … then I opened a box that we found in the old High School, and …it was in there. I was running out of time, but…”

He lifted the watch out of the box, blinking slowly at it, and you saw the way his eyes were glazed over as he ran a thumb over the unbroken face. “It’s the same one. How… I haven’t been able to…” “I know the one you used to wear is important to you, because of where it came from.” Reaching out, you settled a hand on his knee. “And I didn’t bring this one to you for the actual watch, Joel. You’ve… been wearing the leather one a lot lately, and I know that it’s been hard for you, so I wanted to find another band like this one, just so you could … I don’t know. Maybe just switch out the side with the frayed seams? I wouldn’t want you to lose the whole thing and not realize it until it was too late.”

He closed his fist around the timepiece and surged forward, catching you off balance. “Thank you.” He nuzzled the side of your face and you felt the dampness on his cheek as it pressed against yours. “I haven’t been able to find a backup in… years. I’m good at a lot of things, but not … not that. I thought …” He straightened up, taking a shuddering breath. “I thought when it broke for good this time, that’d… be it.”

You’d noticed the fraying on the green canvas band the previous winter, when you’d seen the watch laying on Joel’s bathroom counter. It hadn’t been terrible - just normal wear and tear, but as the months passed, it continued to get worse, the inside loops of fabric between the lugs and the bezel separating more and more each time he wore it for an extended period of time.

He’d opted to leave it at home on many days, choosing to wear one of the leather-banded ones that the jeweler in Jackson had been able to fix throughout the years, but you knew that he preferred his watch, the one that had traveled twice across the country with him. It had been the only constant companion through the two decades he’d owned it, and you’d never forget the way he sounded when he finally opened up to you about it, telling you why, out of all the items he carried with him, a watch with a broken crystal face that didn’t tell time was the most valuable thing he owned.

Joel hadn’t even taken it with him when he was out on the supply run, which had stunned you at first - until you’d seen that the material had been stitched back together on the inside, thread winding around the metal pieces along with the fabric in an attempt to reinforce it to the best of his ability. “I couldn’t let that happen, Joel.” You brushed the hair from his eyes when the two of you separated, head shaking back and forth. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about swapping part of it out, but -” “It ain’t the original band. They last a long time, but 20 years? No way in hell.” He smiled at you, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “This’ll be the fourth one. Might be real important to me, but I understand that things wear down.” That made you feel better, because you truly hadn’t known how he’d react to seeing an unbroken watch like his, new in a box. “You really did this for me? Dug through all those storage containers and -”

“Yes.” Glancing down, you saw that he was absently circling his finger over the glass surface of the watch face. “Maria even came out once or twice. It took a long time. When you and I were out, and I got hurt? I was hoping to look a couple places then, and more while we were out on the longer run. But we had to come back, and … then I had to wait.” Both of you were quiet, the crackling fire the only sound in the room. “Is it the right one? The color -” “Yeah.” He was looking down again, the watch sitting in the palm of his hand. “Yeah, it’s the right one.” When he looked back up, you saw Joel in a way that you never had before - completely open and vulnerable, unsure of what to say or how to act. “You … just gave her back to me for at least a couple more years.” He didn’t say Sarah’s name, but you knew that’s who he meant, and at that, you felt tears leaking from your eyes, dripping down your cheeks and dropping silently into your lap. “I love you, you know that? So goddamn much, and …” He reached for you, the rough pad of one thumb removing some of the moisture from the skin beneath your eye. “And I’m sorry I got mad, but I don’t … I don’t wanna think about havin’ to keep somethin’ like a watch around to remember you by, too.”

At that, you began to cry harder, the man leaning to the right and setting the watch down onto the table before he pulled you closer, urging you onto his lap. You held each other for long moments, soaking up the contact and the comfort, but neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to - he’d said everything that he needed to in only a few words. Joel didn’t throw around heavy words like so many other people had - and still did. He wielded them carefully, choosing instead to show you what and how he felt, and so even after more than a year of knowing that he loved you, hearing him say it stunned you every single time.

Love was a weakness in Joel’s mind, and he’d done everything he could after Sarah’s death to keep himself from admitting when he felt it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. And with you, it had happened faster than either of you had ever anticipated, the emotion you felt when you looked at him carving deep into your bones. Terrifying? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely. You’d admitted it before he had, but it seemed that your willingness had emboldened him, too - and those admissions had led to the two of you, living together and sitting in his living room on Christmas Eve, arms wrapped tightly around each other. “Love you too, Joel Miller.” Sniffling, you sat up, looking straight into his eyes. “And I want you to know that I hated lying to you. But if I’d told you that Tommy was with me? You would have wondered why I didn’t just ask you, and I couldn’t…” “I know. I’m an asshole. Ellie’s right.” He grinned, giving you a single nod. “Lemme make it up to you?” You already did, though. Your eyes flicked over to where your box was sitting and then back to Joel’s face, but the man was shaking his head back and forth. “No, not that.” His hand crept up beneath your shirt again, fingers tracing along the skin of your back. “Want to show you just how sorry I am.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you mumbled, already stroking the back of his neck with one hand, your entire body shivering at his touch. “You apologized already, and -” “I know I don’t need to,” Joel continued, lowering his head so that he could press his lips against the skin just above the collar of your sweater, his tongue flicking against it soon after. “Want to. Want you just as much as I always do.”

You were already gone - there was no chance that you’d ever deny him, because you never could. Even as you nodded in agreement, moving to get off of his lap so that you could go upstairs, he was using his other hand to pull your shirt up and off, the material discarded on the floor between the couch and the table as the two of you rose to your feet, his hands on your sides and his mouth back on yours.

There were still hours to go before it was officially Christmas, but you knew that the two of you would have no problem filling them with each other. - and that was the most real gift that you’d ever been given.

All Pedro:

@raspberrymama @jupiters--moonxx @pretty-brown-eyess @spideysimpossiblegirl @csigeoblue @bport76 @mysteriouslyfuzzypeach @littlemisspascal @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @nicolethered @ezras-channel-rat @quica-quica-quica @moparmama927 @amneris21 @hocuschlocus @withakindheartx @practicalghost @supersingle @paracosmenthusiast @cannedsoupsucks @the-blind-assassin-12 @alraedesigns @pheedraws @missminkylove @hotchlover @phandoz @justanotherblonde23 @scorpiowidow @my-tin-can-mans @chronic-nosebleed @marydjarin @stevie75 @the-rambling-nerd @iamskyereads @lowlights @seasonschange-butpeopledont @stardustsophia @roxypeanut @lumenseal @pedrostories

Joel Miller:

@frasmotic @extraneous-trip @c4psicle @phandoz @hayleesteashoppe @wildmoonflower @devikoo @sprocketwheel @mindidjarin @amb11

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou fic #the last of us fic #pedrostories #pedro pascal character #the last of us joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel x you #the last of us au #christmas with joel miller #pedro pascal

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watchinghallmark · 2 years ago

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I feel like I don’t even know where to start with my thoughts on these movies. I’m very excited. I’m not someone who particularly enjoys Christmas. I don’t really even celebrate it these days because of some complicated family dynamics. But these movies have me genuinely excited for the holiday season and I think that’s such a testament to what Hallmark can do for viewers. I’m so anxious to get going on all the polls for the bracket as well which I have a feeling will require some really tough decisions along the way as we work to crown the ultimate favorite.

First and foremost, we obviously have to celebrate the LGBTQ+ representation. FINALLY we’re getting a true leading gay couple and I could not be more thrilled. I hope to see a big chuck of the movies feature LGBTQ+ characters in speaking roles. You know I’ll be keeping track.

Other holidays/cultures! Very happy to see that we’re getting another Hanukkah movie. Some Kwanzaa representation will be cool too and a learning experience for many (me included) about what the holiday is. Not one but two Chinese Christmas movies!!! That’s awesome. I love to see it. We say it because it’s true: REPRESENTATION MATTERS!

New faces! So many of them! I’m especially excited for Holland Roden. Love her. Sarah Ramos!! Yael!! Zane!! Kara Yang! She’s so fun on Freeform’s Good Trouble.

But with those new faces come some surprising omissions of actors we normally see like Autumn Reeser, Bethany Joy Lenz, Rachael Leigh Cook to name a few. I’m sure we could come up with a long list of actors we wanted to see again this year.

I had planned to pick out a few movies I’m most excited for but honestly there are so many I’m looking forward to. There’s only a handful that don’t really appeal to me which brings me to....

My bitchy comments! No Cindy! We do have to put up with Christopher Russell in what sounds like one of the strangest concepts we’ve seen in a while. For sure his character has red/green colorblindness because of course. So ridiculous. Hopefully they really lean into the absurdity of that storyline and make it fun. That’s the one I’m least interested in though as of now.

A lot of the movies seem really emotional and I’m excited for that because Christmas is not just happy times opening presents and drinking cocoa. For a lot of people it’s a tough thing to get through and I always love to see that represented.

I really do think this will be a great year for movies. The new leadership is fully in charge and seem really excited about all the offerings. There’s something for everyone. I can’t wait to dive in!

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years ago

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Hi! I'm wondering if you can make a list of fics where Erik's jewish heritage isn't ignored? I just came across the fact that a lot of authors don't explore this part of him for some reason and i found it kinda upsetting so i'm wondering if you have any recs! I liked "As They Kiss, Consume" and "Who Shall be King Hereafter" by sherwoodfox, in case anyone who's reading this ask is interested in the same topic.

Hi Anon. I'm sorry for taking so long with this list but your request sent me on a wide search for fics that fit with your request. I tried to find a variety of fics where Erik's Jewish heritage is addressed. Some of them aren't necessarily cherik, but most of them are. I hope you enjoy this list.

Mistletoe, Latkes, and Long-Term Revenge Strategies – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles knows that Erik hates working at a department store in the best of times. Being Jewish in a department store during the holiday season is far from the best of times. He does what he can to help.

A Nice Boy (the Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

Speech Making – phalangine

Summary: Modern Emma AU- Charles Xavier, accomplished matchmaker and headmaster of North America’s preeminent school for mutants, intends to add another notch to his belt: setting up his friend Moira. His oldest friend, Erik, has doubts about this plan.

Charles doesn’t share them.

This is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

Summary: Edie Lehnsherr came into Charles' life long before he ever heard Erik Lehnsherr's name, and her death left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone in Charles' family. As the first Purim without her approaches, he begins to get creative in his efforts to bring everyone out of their grief. Kitchen creativity, however, is not quite his strength....

Bashert – AvengingAngel

Summary: Erik and Charles meet and fall in love. I wanted to write a story where Erik had a huge family. Pretty fluffy (for me anyways). I suck at summaries.

Note: The summary doesn’t reveal much but if you’re looking for a fic where Erik is jewish and has a large family with a heavy dose of cherik fluff and angst then this one is for you.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Ser

It’s kind of our whole things – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

Sequel to Math Reasons

A Winter in New York – nextraordinaire

Summary: Charles and Erik have been childhood friends for as long as they can remember – Erik, living with his mother in Queens, and Charles in the big mansion in Westchester. For all, expect themselves, it was just natural progression that they'd end up together.

A series of ficlets from the same universe – can be read as separate and are out of chronological order.

Baby, It’s Cold Outside – heyjupiter

Summary: "It's just, this is my first Chanukah away from my parents. And it's--it's like 90 degrees out."

Erik Lehnsherr and Kitty Pryde celebrate a Genoshan Chanukah. It's a little different from the way it used to be in New York, but some unexpected visitors help them embrace the spirit of the holiday season.

Hold Back the Rain (front!strict mashup) – euphorbic

Summary: Charles Xavier: society darling, powerful political activist, well-known professor, and Dominant.

Erik Lehnsherr: anti-social, international motorcycle racer, and defiant submissive.

Erik is at Sepang in Malaysia for the fourteenth leg of the International World Championship. After doing poorly in qualifying, he's furious to find he has to take another VIP around the track instead of meeting Charles at the KL airport.

The Swan – waitfornight

Summary: In 1939 Erik and his sister Ruth are sent to Devonshire, England, during the Kindertransport refugee program to live with Kurt and Sharon Marko as foster children just before the start of World War II. Angry and wishing he could return home on the night of his seventeenth birthday, Erik meets a boy alone in the forest who is cursed to transform each day into a swan, only taking his true form by night.

Swan Lake AU.

The boy with the heart on his sleeve – euphorbic

Summary: Charles loses a high-stakes bet to Raven and is required to get a tattoo. However, when he makes a disparaging remark about the art form, Raven's acerbic mentor, Erik, steps in.

Or, the one where Erik and Raven are tattoo artists.

The Wurst Case Scenario – sareyen

Summary:If anyone asked why Charles, come rain, wind or shine, made the significant trek during his dismal lunch hour to dine at "Edie's Kosher Delicatessen", he would stubbornly say that it was because their pastrami on rye and potato knishes were absolutely to die for. He wasn't completely lying, because the deli's namesake, Edie Lehnsherr, made the best matzah ball soup Charles has ever had in his life. Still, Charles would rather shave his full head of hair off than admit that the real reason he would willingly walk through hail and fire to get to the corner deli was because of Erik, the insanely attractive man working the counter.

Sure, Erik has barely spoken two words to Charles other than "Hello, what can I get you?" or, after the third day in a row that Charles came to the deli, "Welcome back, what can I get you?", but Charles was more than happy to just ogle at the man from afar while devouring the juicy wurst Erik had put together with his (large and very capable) hands.

But, little does Charles know, Erik doesn't usually work the front counter. He only does it when he knows the cute blue-eyed man will be dining in.

This is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

c'est regarder ensemble dans la même direction – melonbutterfly

Summary: Since that day on the beach, Charles and Erik have learned to agree to disagree for the sake of living and working together. Then, for Christmas, and Charles gives Erik Hanukkah back a second time, and their relationship shifts a little further.

Terrible Hanukkah Sweaters and Other Life Challenges – professor

Summary: “Why am I here again?” Erik groans.

“I need you to lift things and glower at people over my shoulder when I tell people that it’s not ‘politically correct’ or a ‘war on Christmas’ to have a non-denominational winter holiday festival,” says Theresa Pryde.

Well, at least those are two things he’s good at.

Shrapnel – librata

Summary: It's late 1940, and tensions between the Axis and the Allies are tightening. Displaced and alone, 16-year-old German Jew Erik Lehnsherr finds himself employed as a servant by some snobby, terrible family in England whose house is far too big and whose money never seems to end. The worst part is, he isn't just mucking stables or cleaning plates–-he's tasked with tending to the whiny, disabled son named Charles, who might just drive Erik into absolute madness.

Or, the World War II fic in which Erik and Charles experience a changing world and a lot of teen angst.

Defying Expectations – Baamon5evr

Summary: Charles and Erik meet each other’s family. Neither of them gets what they expect.

table for three – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik should have known to call ahead to the Chinese restaurant--it's Christmas Eve and he lives in a predominantly Jewish neighborhood, after all. But before he can go home to mourn the loss of another one of his mother's yearly traditions, he's accosted by a teenage girl with a strange proposition--that he should stay and have dinner with her and her mother, instead.

different from all other nights – metonymy

Summary: "This year we are slaves; next year we will be free." Kitty and Erik host a seder for Passover at the Xavier School.

Libertad – ariadnes_string

Summary: Erik knew the look, had seen it his whole life, even before the war. ”You, with your height and blue eyes and straight nose, you can pass. You can be free of us. You are not marked with your difference.” If you only knew, he’d thought then. He thought the same thing now. And it was that thought, as much as anything, that made him move towards the gate.

Wash Away – sebastian2017

Summary: One quiet, lonely morning, before Yom Kippur, Erik makes his way to the sea in search of forgiveness.

After? There is No ‘After’ – Unrepentant_Marvelist

Summary: Erik knows what he is for. He has known his responsibilities as a survivor since the moment he woke under a scratchy, lice-infested blanket in the Red Army hospital. His world is painted in lucid blacks and whites (so often splashed in red) and there is no room for uncertainty or indecision... until a certain sunburned Englishman throws himself into his world.

The Children of an Idle Brain – Margo_Kim

Summary: Sometimes, when he’s lucky, Schmidt can’t hurt him. It’s like there’s a room inside of Erik’s head that’s he’s usually locked out of, that won’t open no matter if he beats himself bloody against it. On those days, he endures. But sometimes—and Erik doesn’t know why, whether it’s that the stars align or some higher power takes pity or Erik screams loud enough to earn his reward—the door opens. Erik can duck inside and slam it behind him and watches himself through the windows as Schmidt slowly, methodically tortures him to strength.

These days, this past week, there’s a boy in the room with him and he tells Erik, “That’s horrible,” like that means something.

Somehow, across the world, Erik's and Charles' minds touch when they need each other most. They can't be sure that the other boy is real. They suspect that he is not. But that doesn't mean they aren't each other's lifeline until they lose each other and then for a while longer.

Tehillim – kvikindi

Summary: Erik, in Israel, afterwards: another life he could have had. If.

I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) – childishinquiry

Summary: Erik has worn long sleeves his whole life, even before they had to wear yellow stars. Marching along his arm, in neat, black, English letters, are the words "My name's Charles Xavier."

Precious Few Years – sherwoodfox

Summary: Erik and Charles (known only to each other by the letters inscribed on their wrists) are meant to be together, soulmates, destined for the most powerful kind of love and connection a human being can experience.

But they are separated in almost every possible way- by distance, by circumstance, by language, by war. Their chances of success- of finding one another in the labyrinth of the world- are very slim. There is a reason why most people never find their soulmates.

But of course, Charles and Erik aren't ordinary children-

They have their gifts.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #Erik is Jewish #holocaust #asks #earnestly answers

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writingwithcolor · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! I’m currently writing a Jewish character and was wondering if this would be offensive: my character has a family where her mother is Jewish but her father celebrates Christmas, so they fuse their holiday celebrations to bring their two families together for any holidays that fall in line with eachother. Would this be a problem? I’m basing her off of irl friends who’s family does this, but I want to make sure it doesn’t seem like I’m erasing her Jewish heritage and pride. Thanks so much!

Celebrating Hanukkah & Christmas in interfaith family

No problems from me other than to note that I hope you meant to say that they're both celebrated, not that they're literally "combined." Because putting Christian ritual into a Jewish holiday would bug me, as a reader, but someone watching Mom light the menorah before going out caroling with Dad would not--for example. Does that make sense? There are plenty of interfaith families out there that do both, but keeping the actual practices separate is the best way to keep the Jewish ones Jewish. (And in my example I was picturing both parents there for each activity, so it's not like I'm calling for that much separation -- just, not bringing up "the meaning of Christmas" while you're literally telling the Chanukah story.

You may also want to decide if the character themselves is drawn in one direction or the other, or neither yet. (You said "Jewish heritage and pride" so from this I gather that's how she believes? In that case, is Christmas totally just a fun secular thing for her or is it something she regards as an outsider, religiously speaking?)

--Shira

I'm going to start by saying that interfaith families exist, and have a variety of ways of expressing their combination of cultures. I'm absolutely not here to argue with that, be negative about that very real way of life, or invalidate those experiences in the slightest.

With that being said... people outside our community really, really love to show us celebrating Christmas, and Easter, and eating bacon, or doing anything else that might code us as assimilated (regardless of our internal identities). These are things that some Jewish people do, and I think it's absolutely good to show the breadth of the community, and the varied ways we express ourselves, but I do not, at all, trust someone outside the community to do that mindfully.

In wider media, whether books, television, movies etc. Jewish characters are so often shown to be either assimilated, or from an interfaith family. Interfaith does not necessarily mean assimilated of course! But the fact of their interfaith relationship is often used as a convenient way to get the Jewish character into situations that are intended to show how "not really" Jewish they are. There is an obsession with showing us as assimilated, a delight that is taken in trying to prove that we either are exactly the same as the broader culture, or that our differences can be erased and eroded until we are.

A Jewish person remains Jewish, whether they go to a Christmas party or not, whether they have shrimp at dinner or not, whether they marry a non-Jewish person or not, but the intent behind constantly showing Jewish characters doing this is suspect to me. This asker may not have this ill-intent, but frankly, it's hard to come by a character, written by a non-Jewish person, that says "I'm Jewish" in the beginning of a work, and then "oh, no thank you, I don't celebrate Christmas" in the middle, let alone even continuing to say "I'm Jewish" by the end.

When I read a work about interfaith families, and their specific traditions by a person inside the community, or coming from an interfaith background themselves, I'm interested, happy to learn about the characters, and their lives. When I read a work like that by someone outside the community it leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth, and the feeling that even fictional versions of us are being gleefully, voyeuristically, intentionally assimilated.

-- Dierdra

1) If your character is invested in their Jewish heritage, celebrating Chanukah is not enough to show this. Please please please research our other holidays and traditions, talk to Jewish people who feel the same level of connection to their Jewish roots, consume #OwnVoices materials.

2) Agree with Dierdra that interfaith families exist and deserve representation, but that writing an assimilated character requires a lot of research and sensitivity; any blatant disregard of halacha should probably be avoided in case it is consumed in that voyeuristic way by the reader.

3) And with Christmas in particular, you can be close to touching a nerve because not all Jewish people have fond memories of Christmas, to say the least. To people of minority faiths, it can be the time when our othering is the most blatant and impactful (we’ve included some personal stories below).

It would be best to listen to many Jewish experiences of December shenanigans, from people who celebrate Christmas partially or fully, to those who are indifferent, to those who have mainly negative associations and memories.

-- Shoshi

Our personal experiences with Christmas (Jewish Mods)

Also, as a note from all of us, discussing this question brought up so many stories about our own experiences with Christmas, and the culture surrounding it. A selection of them are below, just to give an idea of what it can be like:

- Just not having lights up was enough to get our neighbor asking our then roommate if we were "you know... sorta..." When our roommate confirmed that we are indeed Jewish, he reassured him that it was "fine." It didn't feel fine to be told that though. I also had a neighbor ask what we were doing for Christmas once, and I said "oh, we do Chanukah in this house" just to keep it casual. She excitedly yelled back "JEWS!!" Even without Covid I was getting to the point where December was just a month where I tried to stay in, and avoid getting grumpy at people who are just enjoying their holiday (they just happen to be enjoying it everywhere, all the time. And sometimes kind of aggressively). God forbid you correct someone when they wish you a Merry Christmas.

- Me too, it's the marketing, it's so aggressive. Last year I got so fed up with Christmas music being on in the office that I decided to bring a dreidel and spin it casually on my desk throughout the day, just so that my own space could feel like it was somewhat reserved for my own identity, you know? On day two of this, a colleague I didn't know that well came up to me and said, "Please could you stop doing that? It's really loud." I wanted to yell "NOT AS LOUD AS YOUR MUSIC!", but I didn't, I just stopped spinning it because I'm a darn pushover at times. I had to sit through my first hand-wringing 'how will we do Christmas with Covid?' conversation in about September, even though Pesach and Eid were both during the height of lockdown in this country and no one said a thing until after the fact.

- I've had people scoff, and sniff, and make snide comments to my face in my old workplace when I politely reminded them that I don't celebrate Christmas. It can get so uncomfortable, just existing in the world, and Christmas can end up a really miserable time.

#minemelody #Chanukah #Hanukkah #Christmas #interfaith #Christianity #Jewish #Judaism #holidays #assimilation #asks

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wolfstarlibrarian · 4 years ago

Note

hi librarian! it will be hannukah soon and, since it’s such a fun holiday, I thought it’d be cool to read some hannukah themed fics! or just fics with good Jewish rep in general :) do you have any to recommend?

Happy Hanukkah friend! The Librarian was delighted to get this ask last night! They needed to do a little research to make sure the fics chosen were a good representation, and even ran a few questions by some Jewish members of the wolfstar community.

To anyone who’s new to learning about Hanukkah (December 10th-18th of 2020), it may help to know that Jews are not defined by religious choice, since anyone of Jewish ancestry is Jewish. Below are some more helpful links if you decide to write about Hanukkah or add Jewish characters to your fics!

Hanukkah 101

Types of Jews

Writing POC 101: Jewish Characters

If you are not Jewish, remember that is it your responsibility as an author to seek out knowledge and authenticity. Do not wait to be corrected by those willing to take the time to critique you, even after you have misrepresented them.

Another note is to remember that many in the Jewish community find the goblins in Harry Potter a terrible stereotype. They are written a different race, with large noses, that is very money hungry. You can read more about that here.

Thanks for letting the Librarian share some learnings, and now let’s get to some positive Jewish fics!

Jewish Wolfstar

8 fics for Hanukkah + 1 wip

Candles in the Darkness by @swottypotter

In the winter of seventh year, James, Sirius, and Remus are all carrying their own burdens and fears for the growing darkness in their world. Together, they find comfort and light at the Hanukkah celebration in the Lupin household.

Discards by @picascribit When 21-year-old assistant librarian Sirius spots a cute hipster college student at the Seattle Public Library, he just needs to figure out a subtle way of determining whether he's into guys. But Remus's life is more complicated than Sirius knows.

Beets -orphaned account On a short homestay in France, Sirius gets to know his host family, in particular the adorable Remus Lupin. When he attempts to cook them dinner, however, a slight miscommunication leads to...revelations.

The Daily Grind: Black Coffee -orphaned account When Orion Black orders his son Sirius to go undercover at one of his cafés, Sirius is not pleased. All he wants is to head off on a tropical holiday far away from his family. Unable to say no, Sirius is forced, for the first time in his life, to work. Flailing, he's certain it's all going to come crashing down until he realises his co-workers are more than just co-workers. They're family. But how will they react when they learn the truth?

A Kiss Won't Mean Goodbye: Hanukkah Special by @marlenemckinn

After years of searching, Sirius finally is given the one piece that had always alluded him but meant the most just in the for Hanukkah.

Addicted To The Magic -orphaned account Sometimes you meet a stranger on the tube, and the entire course of your love life changes--even if you have no idea who they really are. And sometimes you know exactly who the messy-haired, speccy prat is who keeps showing up at your work, and as much as you try and deny it, he truly is growing on you.

Whatever Words I Say -orphaned account When Remus Lupin is hired to control the antics of famous lead singer of the Marauders, Sirius Black, he knows he has his work cut out for him. Sirius is contrary and has absolutely no chill, and loves pissing off the press. Remus feels up to the challenge, but he certainly does not expect to fall head over heels in love from the moment he meets the charismatic singer.

Hanukkah and Hope by @starstruck4moony Sirius has been laid off, Remus is teaching classes remotely, and together they're trying to get through quarantine safely. Even though they can't travel home for the holidays, Sirius comes up with a way to surprise Remus with a Hanukkah celebration

Aesthetic: Trash Boys* by Emaly, merlywhirls *wip A story that starts with dick pics but is really about friendship, falling in love, and summer hols fun.

🕎 Make sure to check out more Hanukkah fics from the @marauders-hanukkah-fest and the Wolfstar Holiday 2020 Prompts by @remus-john-lupin.

#Hanukkah #holiday #wolfstar #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #jewish

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undyingskies · 4 years ago

Text

Hanukkah

request: yes

“hi!! would you be willing to write something with charlie where his girlfriend is jewish and someone made fun of her for it so he decides to go all out for the first night of hanukkah and buys his own menorah so he can make it the best for her bc even tho he isn’t jewish he wants to make her happy and enjoy her religion and heritage? sorry if that’s too specific and if you aren’t comfy doing that it’s totaly fine 🥺♥️”

A/N: I know the holidays are over, but due to the holidays I have gotten behind in my requests! I did my best to educate myself on Hanukkah and write a fic that respects the Jewish holiday! I hope everyone enjoys!

warnings: none

tagged: @mah-gah-lee, check her blog out! She is amazing and so are the fics that she writes!

———————————————————

Normally you were always really excited about the holiday season and celebrating Hanukkah. Hanukkah was eight days of celebration, each night at sundown you and your family got together to light the candle on the menorah. It was always a time of celebration and love.

This year was a little different though, this was your first holiday season living with Charlie. In the past Charlie had come for a few days of Hanukkah with your family but he had never been around for the full eight days.

Charlie had always done his best to educate himself of the Jewish holiday, he wanted to learn everything about it that he could. He learned the reason behind the celebration, he wanted to learn about your heritage, he learned all the traditional foods, and even had your mom teach him how to make latke.

It was also nice, that you were able to celebrate the holiday with your family and not have to worry about splitting the day with Charlie’s family since they celebrate Christmas. Your first time every celebrating Christmas was actually with Charlie and his family. It was fun to see a new holiday celebration, but nothing compared to celebrating Hanukkah to you.

You were a little nervous for this year, as again this was the first year of living with Charlie and doing all eight days of Hanukkah together. You were originally really excited, you were going to buy your own Menorah for the first time ever. You were even going to host one night of Hanukkah at your shared apartment with your family. That was until you had read some comment a fan had made. They just mentioned the difference between your two holidays and had said something about you forcing Charlie to engage in Hanukkah. Which just was not true at all, but it still got to you.

Your excitement for the holiday just seemed to fade as the comment continued to ring through your head. The first day of Hanukkah was quickly approaching but you hadn’t started to decorate or buy your menorah yet. Charlie noticed your mood and was worried because you had not mentioned it or even told him why.

Today was the day that the two of you were supposed to go shopping for all the things you needed.

“Hey Y/N, you ready to go shopping today?” Charlie asked you walking from your room and into the living room.

“I don’t think I really want to go anymore Char...” you trail off, “it just seems like too much now.”

His face falls at your words, not understanding why your excitement isn’t evident anymore and the fact your dismissing shopping for your first menorah. Something that you were really excited for just days prior.

“Are you sure? You were so excited about it the other day, truthfully I was too.” He tells you. You scoff at his words, not believing him. You knew he wasn’t the one who made the comment but somehow in your head, you twisted convincing yourself it was true.

His eyebrows furrow together at your actions, really not understanding what was happening.

“Can you tell me what’s going on Y/N? Please? I really am just not understanding.” He asks you.

“It’s nothing Charlie, I just don’t want to do it. I’ll just go to my parents house this year. That way you don’t have to be bothered by it.” You confess to him.

“So I won’t be bothered by it? Why would I be bothered by it?” He’s a little frustrated at your words, he’s always done his best to show you he loves spending Hanukkah with you and your family.

“I just don’t want to force you to do it anymore, people were saying I was forcing you to celebrate this whole time and I don’t want to do that. So I am not going to this year.” You tell him, pushing yourself up from the couch, just wanting to go lay in bed and take a nap.

Charlie reaches out and grabs your arm before you can leave. He pulls you to him, so that your face to face.

“Y/N, you know that’s not true. You have never forced me to celebrate or do anything I didn’t want to do. You know I’ve loved learning about Hanukkah, I was excited to host a night here.” He tells you with a smile on his face, hoping that his words would make you feel better.

They don’t. You roll your eyes at him, not believing his words. You had gotten in your head about it too much. “Whatever Charlie, I just don’t feel like dealing with it okay.” You tell him, stepping away to go to your room.

Charlie sighs and lets you go. He does follow you to the room though. He watches you climb into bed and face the wall. He’s stumped by all of this, not knowing how to fix the situation.

That’s when it hits him, he’s got an idea that has got to make you feel better. He leans over to place a kiss on your forehead. “Okay baby. I’m going to go to the store, I’ll let your rest.” He says.

You turn to look at him with a small smile on your face. “Okay Char. I love you.” You tell him.

“I love you too.” He says on his way out of the room.

He’s got your mom on the phone the minute his foot is out the door. He’s going to fix this situation and put you back in the holiday mood.

He made his way through about 4 different stores, trying to get everything he needed to make it perfect.

You don’t know how long he was gone but sleep had overcome you just a few minutes after he left. The nap granting you some peace from your intrusive thoughts.

When Charlie had gotten home from the store, your apartment was dark. He went to your bedroom to see if you were awake or not, but he found you peacefully sleeping. Which was perfect for his plan.

He quickly and quietly set everything up the best he could, hoping that his plan would work. Once he was done, he made his way back into your room.

He sat next to you on your bed, rubbing your back gently hoping to pull you from your sleep. After a couple seconds you start moving about, slowly becoming conscious. You roll over to find Charlie smiling down at you.

“Hi,” He whispers, to which you whisper hi back.

You don’t miss the excited look on his face and how his eyes seem to be sparkling a little more than usual. He was up to something, you just knew it.

“Everything good there Char?” You ask him. Your spirits a little up due to the nap.

“Yes it is! Wanna come with me to the living room?” He asks you, reaching his hand out for you to grab. You smile up at him and grab his hand, letting him pull you from the bed and into the living room.

Once you reach your living area, you stop dead in your tracks. The sight of your living room brought tears to your eyes. In the middle of your coffee table, was a beautiful menorah. There was also a tin next to the menorah, with all the candles in it.

The table had little white lights draped all along the edges of the table, to light up the room. In the corner of the room, there was also a medium Christmas tree. All of the decorations on the tree were shades of silver and blue.

Your tears kept falling, you were so happy. Charlie speaks up after a few seconds of watching you admire your home for a little.

“So I called your mom and asked her what I should get to decorate. She told me about the menorah, you had been looking at to get, so I went and got it. I hope that’s okay.” Charlie says while moving to stand in front of you.

“I know you thought you were forcing me to celebrate Hanukkah with you, but I want you to know that it wasn’t true. I love celebrating the holiday with you and learning all about it.” He pauses for a second, “Also I know it may be cheesy but now that we live together I thought, I could incorporate both our holidays. The internet told me that blue and silver were the colors of the Israeli flag so I thought maybe by decorating the tree with those colors, was a nice way to combine the two.” He tells you.

You can’t believe how sweet he was. Only Charlie would try to set up your home with both of your holiday traditions and try to come up with a way to combine the two of them. He truly was the best and so thoughtful.

“I just wanted you to know that even though we have different holidays and traditions, that we’re both in this together.”

A small smile graces both yours and Charlie’s lips as he says that. You can’t help but throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a bone crushing hug. Tears still leaving your eyes.

“It’s perfect Charlie.” You whisper in his ear. You pull back from him, so you could be face to face.

Charlie leans in for a sweet kiss after a few seconds of eye contact. Your boy really was the best. After a few seconds of your lips moving together, you pull apart.

“Also I bought all the ingredients to make latke! I figured we could make it together!” He tells you. “After all we have two days before the first day of Hanukkah and we’re hosting that night!” You smile up at his words.

“Well we better get a start then!” You tell him, pulling him into the kitchen.

You end the night baking with the love of your life and telling him about all your childhood stories of Hanukkah. Nothing could get better than that.

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie x reader #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charliegillespieimagines #charliegillespieimagine #charlie gillespie fluff #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie fanfiction #jatp #julie and the phantoms #julieandthephantomsimagine

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babbushka · 4 years ago

Note

Happy Hanukkah, Zannah! If I may, I'd like to request “Give it up. I have won all your raisins. You’ll be left with nothing but those nuts no-one likes.” with my new favorite Lawyer Kylo. Thanks so much!

Thank you so much for sending this in my kind friend! I hope you enjoy it :)

Part 2 to this ficlet

(1k, brief NSFW content)

With the family and guests all milling about with one another, laughing and smiling and enjoying the merriment of the holiday Mattie finds his brother Ben hanging back in the living room with something of a mischievous grin on his face, the kind that can only really mean trouble. Ben’s been on his best behavior for the whole holiday, but Matt can tell he’s starting to get antsy, wanting to start some trouble. So, being the middle child, Matt plays mediator as usual and steps in before Ben can do anything too drastic – especially with spending the holiday with your family for the first time.

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t.” Matt mutters under his breath, sidling up to stand next to his brother, catching how Ben is eyeing you and Kylo in the dining room.

“I’m surprised they’re here in one piece.” Is all Ben says in response, bringing a glass of bubbly up to his lips.

“Kylo must really like this one. You know how he gets when he’s stuck in the car for more than ten minutes with anyone.” Matt agrees, watching how you interact with his brother.

“I still have the scar.” Ben nods solemnly, dramatic as ever.

You and Kylo are sitting at the dining table, a handful of dreidels and piles and piles of gambling material in front of you. Mattie can’t help but think you must be brave to take on someone like Kylo at a game like this, he hates to lose pretty much any and everything. There hasn’t been any yelling or throwing of shit yet, and for that, Mattie has to wonder, “When do you think they’ll kiss?”

“You can’t be serious!” Ben says a little too loudly, immediately clearing his voice and speaking softer so Kylo doesn’t overhear and give him another scar to complain about, “They’re clearly fucking, look at them.”

“No, no way.” Mattie’s eyes widen, knowing his big brother. That’s a bet he’s willing to make money on, so he offers Ben his hand to shake and asks, “Ten bucks?”

Kylo is starting to get aggravated, you can tell. What a turn of events the holiday had been, from that first night at the motel to now. Only a couple days ago you were arguing with him on the drive over where he didn’t fill up the tank enough to actually get you there in one go, but now there’s a sort of air of tolerance between you. You’re in your parents’ huge mansion in Connecticut, celebrating Hanukkah together with the Organa-Solos, everyone staying in their own room in the big three-story house.

Whoever decided that Kylo’s room would be directly across the hall from yours, clearly had a twisted sense of humor. But you could tell the friendly atmosphere was starting to wane, as Kylo yet again spun a shin, and had to give some raisins into the middle.

“Give it up. I have won all your raisins. You’ll be left with nothing but those nuts no-one likes.” You try to get him to stop while he’s already behind, before his blood begins to boil and he throws a fit like you’ve seen so many times before in your…well, whatever you want to call it together.

Kylo levels you a glare that would send a lesser person shaking with their tail between their legs, but you are not lesser, and certainly able to hold your own against him and his intense gazes.

“Listen sweetheart,” He says through a clenched jaw, hand flexing in and out of a fist as he tries to keep his cool. “I am no quitter -- especially when faced with a cheater.”

“You think I’m cheating?” Your brows fly up at the accusation, a terse edge to your voice.

“I know you’re fucking cheating. You’ve got a loaded dreidel, I know you do.” Kylo’s chair scrapes back against the hard wood floors and he stands up, making his way around the long long long dining table to crowd into your space.

“Stop being such a sore fucking loser, Kylo. I won fair and square and I’d testify to that.” You stand up too, not letting him tower over you. He still does, of course, but to a far lesser degree.

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you try spinning with this one?” Kylo shoves a dreidel of his own into your palm and you scoff, as if that would prove anything – everyone knows that dreidel is left up to chance, there’s no rhyme of reason to it.

Which is why Kylo gets especially frustrated when your spin lands on gimel, and you smugly shuffle the whole pot of raisins to your corner.

“Fuck you.” Kylo spits, hands already reaching for you with a big scowl on his face.

“No fuck you --!” You start to snap back, before Kylo’s hands cup at your cheeks and hold you in a bruising kiss, your hands already winding in his hair.

Kylo’s tongue pushes its way into your mouth and you welcome it with passion, sighing and moaning around the taste of him, raspberry jelly from the sufganiyot lingering on his lips. You and Kylo both vie for control, hands all over, pulling at one another’s hair and pushing at shoulders to try and get the upper edge in this dance of dominance.

You manage to get Kylo backed up against the wall, but he only flips your positions quickly and pins your wrists above your head, moving to suck and bite at your neck where it’s exposed from your cheeky Hanukkah sweater. You slip one out of his grasp, using it to fumble with his belt, and Kylo groans when he feels your hand wrapping around his cock in his underwear, giving the hard length of it a good stroke.

“Upstairs, now, fucking brat.” He growls in your ear, and you manage to twist yourself out of his grip entirely, ducking underneath his armpit and slipping away from him altogether, practically racing up the grand staircase.

Ben and Mattie, who happened to see everything, duck as the two of you rush up to the second floor where your bedrooms were, certainly going unnoticed by everyone aside from the other triplets.

Ben gives Matt a smug grin of his own, reaching out a grabby hand for the money that his big brother owes him with a, “I’ll take that.”

Mattie just shakes his head and forks over the cash, wondering what other surprises this Hanukkah will bring.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren imagine #lawyer!kylo #lawyer au #direnightshade #cowboy answers

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lovelylogans · 4 years ago

Text

the danes family christmas

or: the danes-sanders-prince-tamura-cabrera-key-bowes christmas. but danes family christmas flows a bit easier, doesn’t it?

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, mentions of divorce, mentions of sickness, alcohol consumption, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairings: patton/virgil, logan/roman

word count: 5,876

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic. happy christmas, a belated happy hanukkah, and a happy early kwanzaa! if you don’t celebrate any of those, then happy friday! this is essentially a “where are they now” snapshot of the danes family, who were all introduced in last year’s christmas fic. i hope you enjoy!

⁂

it starts when virgil hangs up the phone at the diner—the landline against the wall right by the entry to the kitchen, not his cellphone—looking strangely happy. and, considering there were only ever two kinds of phone calls that phone received, one of which being business calls—

“mom or dad?” patton asks, as he sits at the counter.

“my mom,” virgil says. “freddie finally got the flights finalized, they’re coming for christmas.”

patton claps in excitement. “that’s great!”

“so that’s everyone,” virgil says brightly. “all five of us, plus spouses and partners and kids, ‘cept—”

and then he stops himself, tilts his head, and asks, “hey, what are your christmas plans?”

⁂

and so it begins—patton negotiates them out of attending any sanders’ christmas celebrations, in exchange promising to bring himself and logan and the new beaus (as his mother had called them) to a cocktail get-together on new year’s eve.

and then virgil had caught on to the fact them all leaving would leave roman and isadora as the only ones in their little cobbled-together family in sideshire for christmas, and freddie had, too, and immediately gotten on the phone to beg isadora to come along, so that meant crafting an elaborate plan for a road trip on christmas after the matinee christmas morning performance of the nutcracker, which is where they are now: all five of them in virgil’s car, suitcases packed away in the trunk, on their way down to the elder danes’ family home.

oh, and in the middle of all these preparations, not one but two romantic unions were formed, so. it’s been a bit of a busy couple of months.

“okay,” roman says, from where he’s stuffed in the middle seat between logan and his mom, virgil driving and patton attempting to play at navigator, “run me through the entire family tree again, it’s been a minute since i’ve seen everyone.”

so logan opens his phone, scrolls for a little bit, then clicks on a photo they must have taken the last time they were all together in a big group, and zooms in before he hands the phone over to roman to hold. roman’s mom peers over his shoulder.

“so, we’ll start with the danes’,” logan says, and taps each of their faces as he goes—”meredith, mark, wyatt, esther, silas, winifred, and of course, virgil.”

“right.”

he then proceeds to tap the woman and man flanking wyatt. “adam bowes and alexandria cabrera, but she goes by lexa—”

isadora tilts her head at lexa. “i remember her. isn’t she colombian?”

“her parents immigrated from ecuador,” virgil corrects, “but she studied abroad for a bit in colombia, so you’re probably remembering that.”

“—they’re wyatt’s partners,” logan continues, and points to the children in front of them. “nicola’s oldest, she’s fourteen. then there’s wesley, who goes by wes, he’s twelve. is their dad going to be there?” he asks virgil.

“no, he’s off with his girlfriend,” virgil says, and scowls a little. patton thinks he's clearly about to say good riddance—he isn’t particularly a fan of lexa’s first husband. none of the adults are, really, but none of them ever breathed a word about it in front of the kids.

“all right, so i don’t have to find a picture of him,” logan says. “then there’s elizabeth who goes by ellie, eight, and abigail who goes by abby, five.”

roman mumbles names under his breath, tapping each of their photos, before he adjusts the picture. “right. so, essie.”

“you know annabelle, her wife,” logan says, pointing to the black woman with her arm slung over essie’s shoulders. “they were foster parents for a time, so they adopted michael who goes by mike or mikey, he’s twelve, and his sister sophia. she’s seven. and they also adopted theodore who goes by teddy, he’s eight—”

“—nine,” virgil corrects, “his birthday was last month—”

“right, he’s nine, they adopted him three years ago.”

more repetition of names to himself, and then roman adjusts the photo.

“silas,” he prompts.

“his wife, moira,” logan says, pointing to the redhead beside him. “and the twins, emma and devon, they’re ten.”

“they just had a baby in august, too,” virgil says. “meredith junior, but they’re calling her red, for now, so that no one confuses her and my mom. you can guess why, it’s pretty obvious she’s taking after moira already. it’ll be easy to spot her, she’s the only baby.”

“and freddie,” isadora says, craning her neck to look at the photo. “how long has it been since she’s come back for christmas?”

“at least a couple years just for christmas, but she’s visited a couple times,” virgil says. “still, it’ll be nice to see her and ryu and the kids.”

“akira who goes by kira, and nikko,” logan provides for roman. “they’re twins, age six. and sayuri, but she goes by lily sometimes—”

“how’d that happen?” roman says, looking to virgil for help.

“sayuri means ‘lily,’” virgil says. “‘little lily,’ i think, but i can’t remember the exact translation. she’s three.”

“and—where do they live?” roman says.

“tokyo,” patton says, twisting to look at virgil. “they moved last year, didn’t they?”

“that’s right,” virgil confirms. “they lived in kyoto for a while, but freddie got a pretty good job offer, so. tokyo it is.”

“and then there’s us,” logan says. “i assume you don’t need a photo, name, or age breakdown for any of us.”

roman snorts, and says, “no, i guess i not.” he blows out a breath, before he scrolls back over, and says, “right, okay. remind me what everyone’s jobs are?”

and so the rest of the car ride passes, recalling the last times they’ve all seen various members of the danes family and passing on stories of visits past.

it’s about to be a marathon of a christmas.

⁂

by the time they’re pulling up to the danes’ house—windows down, because the elder danes’ live in a much warmer state and everyone seemed to have a simultaneous, unspoken agreement on the need to thaw from the brutally cold and snowy winter they’d been having so far—virgil’s leg is bouncing in excitement, and patton reaches across to put a hand on virgil’s, smiling at him.

“are we the last ones getting here?” he asks.

virgil nods his head. “miraculously, even wyatt and adam’s weird hours have lucked out, but adam’s exact words were don’t hold your breath—”

“of course, of course,” patton murmurs, because he probably should have guessed the orthopedic surgeon and the spinal surgeon would have some funky hours.

“—but i think everyone should be here? at least i didn’t hear that they got delayed, so.”

“please tell me we’re almost there,” roman groans.

“we’ll get there when we get there!” virgil and patton say simultaneously, and they both laugh at each other quoting the incredibles as roman groans louder.

patton’s glad to have the brief distraction of a pixar reference; as they’ve gotten nearer and nearer to the danes’ house, he’s felt a knot in his stomach grow bigger and bigger.

he’s been spending holidays with the danes’ since logan was born, usually seeing at least one of them once a year—christmases, easters, family get togethers, he and logan have tagged along for years and years.

he has a feeling that virgil and his parents would argue with the phrasing of tagged along, but he can’t help it—even if he knows he’s uncle patton to all the kids, and he knows logan refers to all the various danes progeny as his cousins, and he knows he and logan have long since received the food-based nicknames everyone in the family receives upon being born in and growing up in the family and at marriage, but—

well. he can’t help it, sometimes.

but now, he isn’t just tagging along. he’s the latest romantic partner in the family. he has started dating their youngest son, their baby brother, their beloved bachelor uncle.

he can’t help but wonder if it’ll be like an entirely new dynamic. because he’s seen the way the latest romantic partners are introduced—he’s long since gotten used to the danes’ fond squabbling with each other, but it turns into a whole new level of teasing when they bring along a date.

“we are,” logan says, and points. “there it is.”

virgil examines the number of cars—he probably should have expected the full driveway—and pulls over to park on the side of the road, roman immediately demanding that either logan or his mother get out of the car right now or else he will crawl over them—

virgil and patton’s eyes meet, and patton smiles at him before they both turn to open their own car doors, roman getting out of the car hot on logan’s heels.

and then the danes’ front door opens, light spilling onto the lawn, and children barrel out of the house, almost all of them yelling at the top of their lungs, and virgil says “oof!” as he’s plowed into by three little girls, clinging at his legs, and virgil immediately swings the nearest up into his arms.

“oh, hello, everyone!” virgil says, beaming, looking years younger as ellie clings to his neck, and patton grins at him even as abby notices he has a free set of arms and immediately demands a hug, and patton can’t help but oblige, lifting her up onto his hip, distantly pleased that he still can carry her, because goodness, she’s gotten so tall!

“girls!” someone at the door calls, and patton looks up at lexa in the doorway with a grin. “let your uncles get inside before you tackle them, please!”

“aw, mom!” ellie grumbles, even as virgil’s setting her down and grinning apologetically at lexa, a hand resting on sophia’s hair.

“sorry, lex!” virgil calls, and pats ellie on the shoulder, murmuring something quietly to ellie and sophia ear that makes them both grin, brown eyes sparkling; patton follows his lead, setting abby down.

“uncle patty—” she begins to whine.

“i know, i know,” he says, crouching down to tug lightly at her braided dirty blonde hair, to make her giggle. “but, tell you what. if you listen to your mom, how about you and me sneak some cookies from your grandma, huh?”

abby brightens, and immediately rushes off, right on her sister’s and cousin’s heels.

“do you need any help?” adam says, his head popping out from behind lexa.

“no, we’re all right, thanks!” roman calls, isadora already shutting the trunk, all of their bags unloaded and just waiting to be carried inside—patton doubles back for his, but virgil’s already swinging his bag over his shoulder before patton can do anything about it.

“i could—” patton begins, but virgil leans down and kisses him before he can say anything about it. virgil grins even wider when patton just blinks at him, half-forgetting what he was saying.

“i got it,” virgil says reassuringly, “honestly, we’re gonna need someone to open the door, so,” and patton huffs.

“fine,” he grumbles, pretending to be put out, as the part of him that was raised with things like gentlemen should open the door for you, and carry things that are heavy, and care for you in general is sending butterflies fluttering in his tummy. because, one, virgil is being a gentleman, but also, patton has an opportunity to be a gentleman.

the things that give him gender euphoria are so weird, honestly.

but patton trots ahead and opens the door for virgil (and his son, and isadora, and roman) and is nearly bowled over by a wave of noise.

the sound of about twenty-four people all calling hello to their brother slash in-law and his weird little accrued pool of family all calling their hellos back tends to do that, patton guesses.

but once everyone’s funneled their way through the door, patton tries to close it; before he’s even fully shut the door behind them, though, abby’s clinging to his leg, grinning up at him.

“cookies now?” she asks.

patton tousles her hair. “gotta set up our alibi, squirt. we’re doing this secretly. it’s a mission.”

abby’s eyes brighten. “like spies?”

“exactly like spies,” patton says, in a hushed tone as if he’s being very quiet and secretive, as if he isn’t fully aware that her mother is keeping an eye on them and folding her lip under her teeth to keep from laughing, even as she’s hugging virgil hello.

abby scuttles off, though, as one of her other parents approaches to give patton a friendly, one-armed hug, seeming to fear the potential of revealing their secret mission.

“hey, patton,” adam says easily. “good to see you’re recovered from the pneumonia, congrats on romancing virgil,” patton blinks rapidly and attempts to come up with a response to that, but adam’s already continuing, “and try to keep her from taking too many, yeah? she’s already been spoiled rotten by her gramps today.”

“can do,” patton says, and so begins the shuffle around the room of saying hello to everyone; the kids are all in one section, already, seemingly preoccupied by various board games, but nicola’s unfolded herself from the group to go up to logan already; the pair of them are closest in age, and they’re also quite the pair of brainiacs, so they’ve been close ever since lexa and the kids came to the first family gathering years ago.

“i despise operator algebra,” she’s telling him.

“well, good thing you aren’t planning on going into quantum field theory, then,” logan responds, and patton loses the plot of that conversation because he’s nearly bumped off his feet.

“sorry!” freddie squeaks, red high in her pale cheeks and a glass of meredith’s near-lethal spiked eggnog in her hand; he suspects it to be the culprit for any uncharacteristic clumsiness and he pulls her into a hug even as he’s laughing out forgiveness.

“heard about you and virgil,” freddie says, “finally.”

“oh—um,” patton stammers, trying his hardest not to blush.

“thrilled to have you, really,” freddie says, bumping into him again, this time purposefully. “and, hey! heard you got sick, you’re all better now, right?”

“right,” he says, then, curiously, “um, how was the trip?”

“have you ever had to handle six-year-old twins on a trans-pacific trip?” she says, and patton winces in sympathy; as polite as the twins are, being raised with the japanese code of etiquette, they are still freddie’s kids, and therefore also incredibly rambunctious.

“my condolences,” patton tells her, then, to her husband who’s hovering silently over her shoulder, he attempts to get his way through saying long time no see in japanese to ryu, who’s been trying to teach them all conversational bits of japanese for years (mostly because they’d all insisted; they did the same to lexa, too. meredith’s parents had learned to greet mark’s family in their native italian, so it had become something of a family tradition to learn at least a little of the language of their spouse.)

“ohisashiburi desu,” ryu enunciates for him, and patton groans.

“i thought i had it this time!”

“you were close,” ryu says, which patton thinks is mostly out of politeness, but he’ll accept it anyways. “sayuri, say hello!”

he glances down, then, in time to notice a three-year-old clinging to ryu’s pantleg, just barely peeking out from behind him, the most visible thing being her near-black eyes, shiny and wide.

sayuri ducks out from behind ryu to bow to patton.

“and hello to you too!” patton says, keeping his voice as soft and friendly as he can.

sayuri looks up at ryu, who nods in approval, murmuring something to her in japanese, and she scampers back behind him, clinging once again to his pant leg.

“sorry,” freddie says, not sounding very sorry at all. “lily’s the shy one.”

“oh, it’s all right,” patton says. “it must have been a big day for her, traveling and seeing everyone again and all.”

“that it is,” freddie says, then, to ryu, “d’you think she needs a nap?”

patton takes that as his cue to resume greeting everyone else; he ducks briefly into the kitchen (where abby is, very unsubtly, eyeing the platter of cookies on the counter) and can’t help but coo at the sight that greets him.

“aw, hello,” he murmurs.

moira, her red hair pulled back into a ponytail and a smidge frizzy, looking haggard in a way that only parents to babies ever seem to look, smiles up at him. “hi, patton.”

“hi, patton,” silas echoes awkwardly, from where he’s washing dishes at the sink.

“hi, silas, hi moira,” he says; usually, he’d be all caught up in the amount of fondness he has for moira, distinctly unbalanced in comparison to his relationship with silas, which is still a touch thorny, even after all this time, but, well. there’s a new member of the family to introduce himself to.

“this must be meredith junior!”

meredith junior is preoccupied with drinking from a bottle, and does not respond to him, her eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

“that she is,” moira says proudly.

“oh, she’s beautiful,” patton says warmly, looking at her and feeling all warm and happy because Baby Feelings, and it reminds him of logan when he was at that age; meredith junior (red, he remembers virgil saying) is also a small baby, like logan was, her hair downy and just as red as her mother’s.

moira smiles at her. “yeah, she is. you wanna hold her later?”

“later,” patton repeats, putting up his hands. “i know how important feeding time is. i was just ducking in to say hi, get a drink,” he directs a wink at abby, who attempts to wink back at him, but she hasn’t really gotten the hang of that yet and so she just blinks at him with extra emphasis.

“eggnog’s in the fridge,” silas mutters. “solo cups should have a sharpie next to it, for names.”

“thanks, silas,” patton says, and ducks around him; he ends up pouring himself a bit of cranberry punch, instead, and obligingly writes PATTON on his cup in large letters. then, with a level of slightly overexaggerated sneakiness that goes unnoticed by moira, preoccupied with the baby, and silas, preoccupied with the dishes, patton snatches a stack of ginger snaps, which are just as good now as they were sixteen years ago. abby jumps up and down, pressing her hands over her mouth to keep from making any noise.

“well, i’m out of your hair.”

“we’re talking later!” moira calls after him, “i’m thrilled, i want to hear all about you and virgil!”

patton tries his very hardest not to blush, and ducks out of the kitchen instead. he splits the cookies in half, handing the other half to abby.

“thanks, uncle patty!”

“you’re welcome,” patton says. “hey, go give one to your sister, okay?”

“okay!” she says, and speeds off across the room. patton spies her handing a cookie to ellie and briefly tugging at nicola’s jeans to get her attention, giving her one too, and patton smiles after her, before he turns to scan the rest of the room for people he hasn’t said hi to yet.

he is immediately face-to-face with essie and annabelle, who beam at him in unison.

“patton!”

“annabelle, essie!” patton says, hugging the pair of them. “it’s great to see you!”

“great to see you too!” essie says. “we’ll have to get together sometime soon, you and virgil and us—”

“—we can do a double-date!” annabelle adds excitedly.

“—we can come to you, or you can catch the train down to us,” essie continues.

“oh—” patton says, a little flustered. “um—good! that’s good! that sounds—”

“good?” annabelle says, grinning, clearly very close to laughing at him.

looking for something in the room to change the subject, he glances around and notices, for the first time, two missing members of the family.

“where’s mark and meredith?”

“oh, mom ran out to the corner store for something, i think dad’s on the porch showing off the grill he got for the neighbors,” essie says dismissively, before she reaches over to squeeze his arm. “seriously. so thrilled for the pair of you, we have to do dinner soon.”

“sounds good,” patton says honestly, because it does; getting together with the pair of them, plus mikey, teddy, and sophia, sounds really good.

“i’m gonna go say hi to the kids,” he adds.

“okay!” essie says.

“we’ll catch up later,” annabelle says. it only sounds a little bit like a threat.

he doesn’t even really need to step too far to encounter the kids corner.

“hi, kids!” he says.

“hi, uncle patton,” the kids all drone, not tearing their eyes away; it seems the other board games have fallen to the wayside, the lot of them watching what seems to be the main event with bated breath.

“hello, patton,” wyatt echoes serenely, a pair of tweezers in hand as he observes the operation board. “i congratulate your immune system on its strength in overcoming the pneumococcal pneumonia, and i congratulate you on entering courtship with my brother.”

patton fails, this time, in trying not to blush, which probably wouldn’t be seen by any of the kids, anyways—“c’mon, uncle wyatt!” teddy urges from the sidelines—and wyatt flawlessly maneuvers the tweezers, and very slowly, very carefully, removes the wishbone without bumping any of the walls, and half the kids groan.

“i should have known better than to start this,” wes mutters under his breath, accepting the tweezers from his stepfather. “hi, uncle patton.”

“hiya, wes,” patton says, amused; at least once a year, someone challenged either of the surgeons in the family to a game of operation, and it always ended up with a crowd gathered around like this. “doing okay so far?”

“i’ve buzzed twice,” wes sighs, and squints at the card. “oh, great. i’ve got the funny bone. okay—”

he readjusts his grip, and patton takes a few steps back, so as to not distract him any more than he needs to be distracted, taking a second to look in on nicola and logan—who are deep into conversation about something called hermitian adjoint with excited expressions on their faces, and roman looks as confused as patton feels—before someone taps him on the shoulder.

“doing okay?”

patton turns to smile up at virgil.

“doing fine,” he promises, and sets his cup down on the nearest surface so he can reach out to correct virgil’s collar. “have you said hi to everyone?”

“yeah, just about,” virgil says, then, “um, they haven’t said anything to you about—?”

“oh, y’know,” patton says with a jerk of his head. “moira says she’s thrilled, essie wants to get all together for dinner, freddie said finally, wyatt congratulated the strength of my immune system and my success in courting you, et cetera, et cetera.”

virgil snorts, ducking his head and rubbing sheepishly at the nape of his neck. “guess i probably should’ve warned you ‘bout that, huh?”

“nah, i knew it’d probably happen,” he teases. “you’re forgetting i was at dinner when freddie brought the news of her elopement and the brand-new husband none of us had ever heard of before.”

“still can’t believe she did that,” virgil says with a disbelieving shake of his head.

patton laughs a little, too, before he says, “i was expecting it a little, i guess—i mean, you’ve got four older siblings, i was a little nervous there’d probably be a bit of hazing to go through, now that i’m a boyfriend.”

“you didn’t mention that,” virgil says with a frown. “i can tell them to lay off, if you—”

patton waves him off, even as he still feels the tight knot in his stomach.

“it’s okay,” he says, and it is okay, it’s just nerve-wracking, “i’ve gotten through the first of it, it’s okay. just, y’know. i’m a little nervous to talk to your parents, i guess.”

“they love you,” virgil says immediately. “they’re delighted about this, i promise, they told me so.”

“virge?”

“yeah?” he asks, a protective expression still on his face. patton takes both his hands in his own, looking up at him with a very serious expression on his face.

“remember your siblings teasing me when you have to sit through an emily-and-richard dinner,” he says, “and then we can say we’re nearly even.”

virgil’s lip quirks up. “nearly?”

“well,” patton says, “you’re probably gonna have to go to a few friday night dinners, so i’m definitely gonna owe you for that more than you owe me for this.”

virgil grimaces at the mention of friday night dinners looming in his future like the ghost of christmas yet to come.

“think happy thoughts?” patton offers, with an apologetic grin on his face.

“what thought is happy enough to get me through that?”

patton pretends to think about it, tilting his head back and forth, before he offers in a faux-innocent tone, “egging their car on easter?”

a slightly goofy grin breaks out on virgil’s face, and patton laughs at the sight of it.

“well, if i must,” virgil says. “might even have to refresh that memory with a repeat performance.”

“don’t you dare,” patton says, in a tone entirely too sappy for what he’s saying.

“or what?” virgil says, grinning down at him, and he’s so stinkin’ cute that patton can’t help but rise onto his tippy toes to kiss the grin right off his face.

their lips barely brush before the hollering starts—there’s a wolf-whistle in there somewhere, but mostly things along the line of “EW, uncle VIRGIL, kissing is GROSS,” and “hey, hey, hands off my baby brother!”—and patton breaks away from virgil with a nervous giggle, blushing, fully aware that if most of the people in the room weren’t looking at him before, they certainly were now. patton finds himself unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“oh, c’mon,” freddie says, grinning, sayuri in her arms and looking quite close to nodding off to sleep, “it’s about time, now that they’re dating.”

“finally,” essie adds, not quite under her breath, then—

“wait.”

patton turns, then, to where the kids have gathered in the corner; mikey, essie and annabelle’s oldest son, is staring at them with large brown eyes.

“wait,” mikey repeats, “what do you mean, now they’re dating?”

“you weren’t dating before?” his brother teddy says, sounding equal parts confused and indignant.

“no, we weren’t dating before,” virgil says. “but we—we are. now. so.”

teddy still looks puzzled.

“well, we loved each other for a very long time,” patton explains, because for as smart as all the kids are, teddy is nine years old, and therefore not quite fully aware of the complexities of adult relationships, “and we told each other that recently. so. now we’re dating, but we’ve loved each other for much longer.”

“well, that’s okay then,” teddy decides, and patton can’t help but snort.

anyone still staring at the pair of them gets distracted by the sound of a door stuck in its lock, before it suddenly bursts open, bringing with it a rush of warm outdoor air and the clunking of a cane hitting the hardwood.

“damn door keeps sticking,” mark grumbles under his breath, looking up and taking a moment to scan the room before his eyes brighten. “virgil! when did you sneak in, bunny?”

meredith pokes her head around his shoulder, eyes bright; she's carrying a shopping bag in one arm that emma and devon, silas' girls, scuttle up and take off her hands, ferrying it to the kitchen for her.

"ten or so minutes ago," virgil says, crossing the room, grinning; unspoken, both patton and logan fall into step behind virgil, approaching the danes family patriarch and matriarch together.

mark is already pulling his youngest son into a hug, squeezing virgil tight, and patton can't help but smile at the way virgil grips his father just as tightly; mark's had a bit of trouble with his health over the past couple years—primarily struggling with his knee, which had been replaced a month before thanksgiving this year—and patton knows it had scared him, at the time, and it made him all the more appreciative of the time he gets to spend with his father.

"good to see you, son," mark says warmly, patting virgil's back roughly a couple times for emphasis.

"snap," meredith says warmly, and patton grins—the ginger snaps he ate his weight in at the first danes christmas celebrations he'd ever attended have become his nickname namesake—before he approaches and pulls her into a hug.

"welcome," meredith says, pulling away, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "and congratulations are in order, aren't they?"

patton flushes, but before she can tease him anymore, mark's eyes land on logan.

"god, look at you!" mark says. "you're tall! how much have you grown? a foot? more? what on earth are you feeding him, virgil?" mark asks, turning to him, and virgil puts his hands up, smirking.

"i think i've grown four and a half inches, since the last time i saw you," logan says, before he steps forward and hugs mark, adding quietly, "it's good to see you, nonno."

patton's smile widens at that. emily and richard have always been grandma and grandpa, to logan, and maria, the previous manager at the inn who had taken in patton and logan, has been nana, but mark and meredith have always been nonno and nonna; grandpa and grandma in italian, where mark's family had emigrated from before mark was born.

"and it's good to see you, jammy," mark says, equally warmly, before he draws back, making eye contact with logan, and not having to tilt his head downwards anymore; they're almost on the same level now. "goodness. it'll take some time to get used to that. hit your growth spurt with a vengeance then, just like your dad—"

and then mark's eyes fall to patton, and patton smiles a little nervously, twisting his fingers together.

"hi, mark."

something in mark's eyes go soft, and he steps forward to hug patton just as tightly as he had hugged virgil and logan, to hold patton just as close, and patton isn't sure why his eyes are suddenly stinging, but they are, and he squeezes them shut and takes in a deep breath as he hugs mark back.

"we're overjoyed," mark says quietly, and draws back to look at patton, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes growing more pronounced with his smile. "oh, patton, we're so thrilled for the pair of you, truly we are. you've always been part of the family, but now—well," he says, and looks between virgil and patton.

"the pair of you, making each other happy," meredith says. "it's everything a mother could want for her boys."

patton struggles to swallow, and he can only smile guilelessly at them both as he waits for the lump in his throat to pass.

"now, we heard about your health scare after thanksgiving," mark says, frowning. "you're too young for such things. you're all better now, aren't you? all fixed up?"

"doctor says i am a-okay," patton manages to croak out.

"wonderful," meredith says, "and no more of any of that."

"you should remain hale and hearty, or else," mark adds, finishing her sentence; they've been married for so long, it's almost like they've become symbiotic.

"or else what?" patton says, achieving something close to his normal tone and not sounding like he's about to cry tears of happiness anymore.

"or else i'll set my wife on you," he says, before he claps logan on the back. "now, i hear that you have brought your boyfriend to meet the family!"

"you've met," logan says, beginning to blush, but he goes to get roman anyways; nicola coos "oooh," after the pair of them with all the teasing in her tone that one would expect from a younger cousin.

roman holds logan's hand as they approach.

"sir, ma'am," roman says respectfully, the picture of a proper young man; isadora looks on approvingly from where she's holed up in a corner with ryu, freddie, and a now-sleeping sayuri.

"this is roman prince, nonna, nonno," logan says, squeezing roman's hand tight and leaning into his side. "i love him very much."

mark's smile goes even softer at that; patton leans his head on virgil's shoulder, his cheeks aching.

"aw, shucks, specs," roman says, grinning at logan, "i love you very much too."

"well," mark says gently. "what grandparent doesn't like to hear that? we are very happy to have you and your mother, roman."

"come and sit," meredith says eagerly. "indulge two old crones in some conversation; i hear you want to take after your mother and go into ballet?"

and so mark, meredith, logan, and roman settle on the couch, logan still clinging to roman's hand and looking the most outwardly fond that patton has ever seen him look. it's enough to have the lump in his throat come roaring back with a vengeance.

virgil touches his shoulder, a silent question—you all right?

patton smiles at him and nods, before someone taps him on the arm, and he looks up.

"spouses club meeting," annabelle says, hooking her arm through his.

"what?" patton says.

"spouses club meeting," lexa repeats.

"i'm—i'm not a," patton says, blushing. he isn't the only one—he sees virgil going red, too. they've been dating for barely a couple weeks, that's very far off from—well—

"i'm not a spouse either, technically," lexa points out, "but that's what we're calling it anyways. virgil, we're stealing your boyfriend."

"do i have a choice in the matter?"

"nope!" lexa says cheerfully. "you, patton sanders, have gossip for us."

"goss—" patton repeats, frowning, before he looks to virgil. "oh—oh! lex, it isn't gossip, really—"

"not gossip, sure," annabelle scoffs. "it's only been ten years, we're getting the story—"

"steal him," virgil says immediately.

"traitor," patton cries out, softly enough so that it doesn't attract the attention of anyone else in the room; he'd gotten enough of that when he'd tried to kiss virgil.

"you aren't automatically immune, you've got siblings to deal with," annabelle tells virgil sweetly, and laughs when virgil pulls a face, suddenly looking younger, like the man in his early twenties that he had been their first christmas all together like this.

and so patton is tugged off into the kitchen, where adam, lexa, annabelle, moira, and ryu all sit, ready to hear the story of how they got together, and patton knows that the rest of their trip will be spent like this—being pulled off into subgroups, whether it be spouses, or kids, or siblings, or other arbitrary combinations that would happen on the fly. patton knows he'll spend the rest of the trip eating his weight in ginger snaps, and coming up with fun activities for the kids, and having a million different conversations with everyone, trying to organize how they'll be able to gather in smaller groups during the new year, and—

—and patton knows he's in for a very chaotic, very merry christmas.

#my post #text #my fic #sanders sides fanfiction #the sideshire files

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revlyncox · 3 years ago

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Finding Peace

This Platform Address was delivered to the Washington Ethical Society by Rev. Lyn Cox on December 5, 2021. In it, I cover this middle period of the pandemic, Hanukkah, and the pressure to be or feel a certain way during the holidays.

It’s complicated. I wish I had a sticker to put on everything this time of year with that reminder. Some of us crave color and light to lift our spirits on the shortest days of the year. Some of us crave quiet and serenity. Some of us can’t deal with too much jollity in the midst of grief. Some of us just want to be left alone to finish our work before the deadline at the end of the calendar year. It’s complicated.

Some of us live the month of December in constant protest of encroaching hegemony, resisting the enmeshment of church and state and marketplace, trying to escape non-consensual holiday music in public places. Some of us are happy to reclaim and re-interpret, or have nostalgic feelings for certain songs and stories even if we don’t have literal agreement, or find these celebrations we didn’t grow up with charming, or just don’t have the energy to worry about a music playlist in the face of the enormity of other issues we have to deal with. Among us, there are many different and valid approaches to winter holiday celebrations. It’s complicated.

Some of us feel pressured to appear cheerful, to create festivity, to spin a wonderland of perfection for the people around them, whether or not we feel joy in our hearts. Some of us feel pressured to be constantly serious, to be above reproach in working for justice or for our family’s economic security, to demonstrate our sober and cynical analysis of things as they are. This pressure for despairing sincerity may not leave room for flashes of joy, or signs of potential change, or for letting off steam. It’s complicated.

Some of us have been through hell, and our loved ones don’t necessarily know how to deal with that. Maybe friends have backed away, or are aggressively normal when obviously nothing is normal, or maybe neighbors try to give us too much advice, or maybe loved ones are so overly solicitous that otherwise good days are brought down by people who don’t trust that good days are yet possible. And we might need different things on different days. It is true generally, and especially in December, that we can perceive pressure to demonstrate certain attitudes or emotions, even if those feelings aren’t authentic. It’s complicated.

And, in these times, this phase of the pandemic that may or may not be the beginning of Act Three in a three-act historical arc, figuring out how to be and how to feel is complicated. We might be at once elated for those who have been able to get vaccinated, and also worried about parts of the world where vaccines aren’t accessible. We might be re-calculating our risk budgets on a daily basis, wondering what’s wise or possible or sustainable given all of the factors in public health and in our own lives. We might be looking to this season to grab whatever shreds of hope or cheer or normalcy we can muster, or we might be sad or angry all over again about what we’ve lost. We might find it difficult to relax into whatever moments of love and meaning we can find, wondering if we are allowed to have a break. It’s complicated.

The main thing I want to say to you today is that it’s OK to feel how you feel. And if you feel a different way in the next moment, that’s also fine. We’ll try our best to be gentle with ourselves and each other, because big feelings can pack a lot of energy into the way we treat our loved ones, our neighbors, and our own (tender) hearts.

So if you’re feeling sad or lonely, if grief is the fog through which you navigate most days, if you are not interested in faking happiness for the holidays, bring that into the circle. Your experience is part of the human experience. If you are fighting for the chance to feel joy, if you are wondering if it’s OK to be OK for a minute, if acknowledging the pain of the world exists side by side with acknowledging beauty and possibility, bring that into the circle. Your experience is part of the human experience. If your approach to the month of December is not the one depicted in the sales flyers, if you are feeling isolated because of the assumptions that other people make about what you must be doing or feeling or planning this time of year, bring that into the circle. Your experience is part of the human experience. It is part of our job to create space that humanizes, that recognizes authenticity and dignity and worth. Let’s receive each other as our whole selves, even as we learn and practice how to express our wholeness in life-affirming, community-supporting ways.

These times are hard. In some ways, the daily recalculations are harder than the days when everyone who was able to do so could be assured that staying at home was the best way to protect the community. I don’t miss those days, they were terrifying, yet there was a bit more simplicity to decision-making. Now, there is no one right answer. We are constantly surfing the edges of chaos. In their chapter on chaos, the authors of the book Sparks of Wonder mention how disturbing this can be. They write:

It seems to be a universal phenomenon that each of us holds “a set of ordered relations” [referencing structural anthropologist Mary Douglas] in our minds—consciously or unconsciously, we have a notion of what it means for something to be in place. If something isn’t where we expect it to be or how we expect it to be, most of us feel a sense of disorder … The human impulse is often to restore out-of-place things to our expectations of them: to make things fit, or appear, or occur, just as we want them. (p. 154)

The authors go on to elaborate about what this means for communities like ours. I’d like to back up and point out that the same urge to bring order out of chaos is what makes this pandemic time so difficult and what makes the pressure to be or to feel a certain way during the holidays so difficult. The longing for what is predictable or comfortable or orderly is very real, and predictability isn’t possible right now, even to the extent that we might have thought it was before March 2020. We want things to make sense. Instead, events feel out of control. And this part, when we are trying a few things in bits and pieces that feel a little familiar but aren’t the same as what we remember, this is really hard. Reminders of normalcy that don’t match our hopes or expectations violate that urge to impose order. Yet we know we have to adapt. So we learn to tolerate discomfort with a certain amount chaos in the service of our shared purpose, and we learn to be curious and gentle in this transition.

Similarly, the pressure we may be feeling to approach the holidays in a certain way comes from a misguided impulse to create order. Those pressures, whether internal or external, are seeking a predictable, smooth, uncluttered version of reality. That’s not how reality is, and trying to make it so can be harmful. Attempting to control other people, suppressing emotions, silencing untidy experiences, these are dehumanizing. Being Humanist involves some openness to the messiness that comes with being authentically human, though we do need to be mindful of our impact on others in the ways we express and cope with those authentic human experiences.

Rather than attempting to dehumanize people, or give in to the harmful aspect of the impulses that arise in us as we move through a chaotic, disordered world, the authors of Sparks of Wonder remind us of our community agreements. The promises we make in communities like this one keep us rooted in our values, our relationships, our best selves. The agreements we make, such as the WES Community Relations Pact, help create boundaries that are consensual and healthy, yet that allow for the flexibility and authenticity of being human. We can’t control historical events, we can’t force ourselves and each other to feel emotions they and we aren’t feeling, we can’t glue the universe together in a way that is predictable and orderly. We can agree to act in such a way as to elicit the best in each other and thereby in ourselves. This is how we make peace with each other and our own hearts: acceptance of unpredictability, yet commitment to our collective wellbeing and liberation. The authors of Sparks of Wonder conclude:

Human communities are messy places—always surprising us with new ways to create chaos. But they’re also all we’ve got. We’re the only ones who will save ourselves from our own human folly, greed, and indifference. This is why so many of us invest our life energy in sustaining human community: it’s up to us to figure it out for ourselves. (p. 157)

Investing life energy brings me back around to Hanukkah, a festival of dedication. One of the lessons of Hanukkah is to remain true to your values and your community in the midst of struggle. This is a time to return to the places and the people and the values that might get lost among the pressures of living in the world. The Maccabees didn’t wait to rededicate the center of their community life, halfway through the greatest challenge of their generation. It took collective work, room for lament, creative use of resources, tolerance of imperfection, and a fierce declaration of human worth and joy in the midst of it all.

This, too, is our calling now. We re-create community together, over and over again. Bring your human experience, bring your ability to adapt, bring your heart for liberating community. Peace within does not have to wait for an absence of conflict or challenge; peace within comes from acceptance of the realities of being human and from congruence with our values. This is the time of dedication.

May it be so.

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crescent-woods · 4 years ago

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sprint fic - the dupain-couffaine-cheng christmas

[happy christmas, @mamanabeille! i hope you enjoy! i chose your prompt christmas traditions, but it’s also got some first christmas in it!]

ao3

Ankara, Juleka, Luka, and Rose gathered on the couch across from the lone chair Marinette sat in. Luka had told her about some big, important tradition she absolutely needed to be at their house on time for, but he hadn’t said anything about what that tradition was. Knowing the Couffaine Chaos for years at this point, Marinette guessed it had something to do with music, either live or recorded, blasting from the massive speakers and shooting multi-holiday decorations onto people and buildings from canons.

She was half right.

The big, important, be-there-on-time, please don’t miss this it will literally kill Momarka tradition, was… playing rock-covers of holiday music when they decorated the boat. Honestly, that was calmer than what she expected from them.

Luka and Anarka set to dragging out the boxes of decorations from somewhere in the boat, Juleka pulled out some snacks (chips and dips and guacamole?) from the kitchen and set the playlist to gently sound throughout the boat, and rose bounced Marinette through the boxes and their labels, holidays, meanings, and which rooms to decorate with them. That last part was surprisingly specific.

The typical, secular Christmas decorations were reserved for the kitchen and the family room, and their fake Charlie-Brown-esque tree in the family room. The more Christian Christmas decorations went in the bathroom. More specifically, the small, creepy, plastic nativity set right at eye level in the shower.

Yule decorations were mostly in Juleka’s room, although some were also placed around the family room and in other places of the boat. That was typically done by Rose because she knew more about meanings and significance than the other residents.

Hanukkah decorations were places *where they need to go* and in Anarka’s room, but don’t you dare set them up for her, just place them in the doorway and she’ll put them ex-act-ly where they need to be.

“Okay, lassie. If ye think ye got all that down, stick to Luka and he’ll make sure this boat’ll be lookin’ spiffy by the time we’re done!” Anarka yelled as she grabbed a box and set off on her own path.

Marinette mock-saluted, muttering an aye aye, Captain, and followed Luka to the kitchen with the Christmas box.

***

By the time the family was done decorating, the house really looked like one would imagine the Couffaine house during the holidays. Their small tree was loaded with ornaments, and as the two couples settled on the couch to enjoy a movie and some treats, Anarka set one last ornament on the tree.

“Well, I suppose it’s time to welcome you to the boat family, Marinette. Since my mother’s mother, each child in the house gets a special ornament added. Ye can probably guess which one belongs to who.” It was actually pretty obvious, Juleka’s was the smallest but also had the most sparkles, Luka’s was covered in blue and flowers, Rose’s was hot pink and purple, and she thought she saw a broken, lime green gingerbread man in the back.

“Now that yer part of the family, the kids picked this one out for ye. Welcome, darlin’.” Her friends, and family she supposed, squished her in the tightest, most loving hug she had ever been the center of (don’t tell her Papa).

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

The first thing Luka was greeted with upon entering the bakery at a cheery 6 in the morning on December 1 was the almost-nauseating scent of gingerbread, closely followed by a bellowed “Luka, my boy! Good to see you! Come back to the kitchen and we’ll get you set on up!” From Tom.

It was way too early for this on any typical day.

Somehow the bakery kitchen was filled with not just the Dupain-Chengs, but the Dupains, the Chengs, and Alya, Nino, Adrien, and Manon. Everyone Marinette cared about, it seemed.

Luka could only mutter a croaked good morning at the merry band.

Marinette launched into her well-prepared speech. Hot cocoa was stationed on the stove, with a tray of additions - marshmallows, flavored marshmallows, shaped marshmallows, more chocolate, sprinkles, peppermint, sugar, coffee, pretty much anything anyone would want to add to their drink. Ornaments were boxed next to the tree already set up in the bakery, and rolls of lights, ribbons, and popcorn garland were next to it. The supplies for gingerbread houses were out on the counter for the afternoon. Window decorations were up front, wall decorations were placed next to their respective walls (this was very specific), counter decorations were, you guessed it, on the counter. In the afternoon everyone would move upstairs to decorate the Dupain-Cheng home. Any other special decorations their friends brought could be placed wherever they thought it looked nice.

He grabbed a cup of caffeinated hot cocoa before Marinette pulled him to help decorate the massive tree. “What do you think, Luka? I know it’s sort of different than how your family does holiday decorating, with so many people and decorations and everything, but I hope it’s not bad!”

“I think it’s a very Dupain-Cheng way of celebrating Christmas with all of the people you love, and I’m glad you’re letting me be a part of it, sweets,” Luka responded in that oh-so-poetic tone that never failed to make Marinette swoon.

Marinette blushed almost as red as the Santa hat on her head before she turned around to grab another ornament.

At around 11:30, Sabine paused the music and shouted, “Okay, everyone! I think the bakery is done for the day, why don’t you all come upstairs for some soup and gingerbread!”

Cheers rang out across the room and everyone marched up into the house for a bowl of Mrs Cheng’s amazing soup.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

Luka rolled over one morning to find his wife missing from their bed. Just as he was about to roll out of bed and find out what hyperfixation she was on today, a body lunged from the doorway to bounce on top of him on the bed.

“Luka! Guess what day it is!” She whisper-screamed.

Luka closed his eyes to slowly adjust to the morning. “Um, November… 32nd?”

Marinette giggled. “It’s December 1st, Luka! Our very first December in our very first house!”

“Did you already get the decorations out?”

“Of course! Now get your tired butt out of bed and start decorating!” Marinette emphasized with another bounce as she ran off the bed.

“Okay, darling, I’m getting there,” he groaned.

In the family room, Luka found boxes. And no wife, until she popped up from behind a stack near the tree he was mostly sure was not there the night before. In typical Marinette fashion, she had somehow decked herself out in a full elf costume between the time it took him to roll out of bed, change into his ‘festive’ pjs, and was down the hall. “Where did you get all these boxes? I don’t remember them from when we moved in,” Luka commented.

“Oh, that’s ‘cause they weren’t here then. I grabbed them last week!” She pointed to different sections of boxes, “Those are a couple things I bought that I thought might look nice, these are some boxes Maman gave me last week, and the rest of them are things that I got from Momarka.” She paused when she saw the strange look on Luka’s face. “I hope you don’t mind that she gave me some things, I mentioned that we hadn’t really done any Christmas shopping yet and I didn’t know what we were going to decorate with and she just handed me a couple boxes of things that she said were your favorites! If you don’t want them I can bring them back and we can go out shopping today, I just didn’t know an-”

“Marinette,” Luka was somehow in front of her, gently cradling her face to look up at him. “Thank you for doing this. I didn’t realize Christmas was so close and I love you so much for all of this.”

There were tears in his eyes, and that brought tears to her eyes.

“The only question I have, dear wife, is how in the world are we going to combine the Couffaine and the Dupain-Cheng decorations?”

#ngl i was Worried i wouldnt be able to finish this lmao #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #lukanette #luka x marinette #lukanette fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #lbsc sprint fic challenge #xmas fic #peachy fics #pro lukamari

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