#letting her kids sit in her lap while looking at Christmas lights when they were obviously stopped or going 2mph

[spurgie-cousin]

Every time I go to engage with the BUB sub it's just a bunch of mom-shaming nit picky assholes looking for things to complain about, esp in regards to Carlin.

To be fair the majority of comments were moms being like "this is fine and y'all are being stupid" but I truly can't describe the rage those self righteous assholes give me. They really think they know what's better for this child than her literal mother 🙃🙃🙃

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Part 7: Can I Keep You?✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: This fic is coming to a close, and I’ve loved writing every word of this one 🥹 Thank you to @lotusbxtch for beta reading 🩵 I plan to write an epilogue for this, and I may write some one-shots to throw in if I get the inspiration in the future. Thank you for coming along on this journey with me!

Summary: Christmas with your parents and the Millers was all fine, until they caught you with Joel.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6.1k

Chapter Tags: A little angst, arguments, no use y/n, lots of fluff, soft Joel, switching POVs, going to omit some tags due to spoilers

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Christmas Day is here before you know it as the cool air blows against your crimson sweater. It sinks through your denim jeans as you make your way back into the house, back to where Joel and Sarah sit in the living room. A football game is playing over the flat screen, and glistening lights flash against the huge tree that sits in the corner of the room.

   Snowflakes tap lightly against the glass as your dad gives your mom the last of her gifts, your eyes flicking over to Joel as he leans into the back of the leather couch, a smile curled against the corner of his mouth as he steals glances your way every few seconds.

   God, his smile gets you every single time, making butterflies flit through your stomach as you take in the brown doe eyes that you can’t seem to keep your eyes off. You just can’t believe he’s yours. Something he reminds you every single day.

   You cling to the fleece blanket Joel gifted you, twisting your fingers against the soft material, bathing in the woodsy scent that sticks to it. And let’s not forget the Metallica concert tickets he got you, winking when your dad asked who you were taking. Joel fucking Miller, that’s who. Your man. Yours.

   He’s wearing the new hunter green flannel you got him, the material clinging against his broad shoulders, biceps hugging the sleeves as you try not to drool in your spot because the man just looks so damn good. 

   You want to sit in his lap, rake your fingers through his greying curls, let his lips brush against yours while his large hands pull you flush to his strong chest, let his woodsy scent completely lather you as you get lost in this plush lips, fingers scraping over his soft scruff. You just want him.

   “Hey, Sarah. Wanna go over to the Silverton’s for a few minutes with Claire and I?” Your dad asks as Sarah bounces off the couch, excited to visit because they always make her favorite chocolate chip cookies. 

   “Heck yeah! Dad, wanna come, too?” she asks as her long hair swishes behind her shoulders, her sparkling eyes finding yours after she calls your name a second later.

   Joel flicks his brown eyes your way and shakes his head. “Nah, you go on, kid. Gonna stay back this time.”

   She looks between the two of you and snickers, knowing exactly why you both had said no. She knows, and she absolutely loves the idea of you and Joel together which makes this whole situation much easier to navigate.

   “Hun, you sure you don’t wanna come?” your dad asks as he pulls his bulky winter jacket on.

   You shake your head. “No, I’m fine. Just gonna sit around the fire and watch some football,” you reply, trying to hide your smile as Joel smirks your way.

   “Football, huh? When did you become such a football fan?” he laughs.

   You shrug your shoulders and smile. “Guess I figured it’s not too bad to watch.”

   Joel shakes his head, chuckling under his breath at the memory of a few nights ago. You were sat on the edge of his bed, his cock stretching your drenched walls wide as he thrusted his hips up and down, your back flush to his broad chest as the glow of the tv played a football game you were paying no attention to, just focusing on how fucking good he felt thrusting his cock deep inside your pussy until he made you come hard and long. 

   “Think she figured out how hard those players play ball,” Joel smirks. You giggle at the memory and throw a fuzzy pillow over at him as he catches it before your parents can see. 

   “Suit yourself. See y’all in a little bit.” He waves as he rushes your mom and Sarah through the door with a present wrapped in glittery blue paper tucked snugly under his arm.

   The second they’re gone, you throw your blanket off and make your way to Joel, collapsing onto the leather couch as he tucks you snuggly into his side. You slide the palm of your hand up the inside of his black shirt, resting your fingers on his warm stomach as you breathe in the smell of his woodsy cologne.

   “Comfy?” he asks, chuckling as he pulls you closer into his broad body.

   “Very,” you smile. He bends his head down and presses a kiss slowly to your forehead, his fingers tracing the ends of your spiral curls as you sigh at the softness that makes Joel just perfect.

   “Figured,” he chuckles.

   You watch the fire crackle with orange sparks in your vision, the Christmas lights shining brightly as the tree glitters with dark green lights twinkling in the corner. It’s quiet in here, a peaceful Christmas evening, and you have Joel all to yourself for the next few minutes. 

   Joel runs his fingers lazily over your back, pushing your hair across your left shoulder as he trails the back of his calloused index finger over your jawline. “I, ummm, got you one more gift,” he says nervously, his free hand raking down his greying scruff.

   You sit up straight and stare at him, spellbound. Another present? “Joel, what more could you possibly give me? I mean, those Metallica tickets must’ve cost you a fortune! And that fancy steak dinner you took me to? You’ve done enough,” you giggle, letting your hand fall down on his denim clad thigh.

   He chuckles and shakes his head. “I know, but jus’ trust me. I think you’re gonna like this one,” he smiles as he digs deep inside the pocket of his dark jeans, pulling a light blue velvet jewelry box out as he displays it in the palm of his hand.

   You open your mouth wide in shock, your index finger grazing the outside of the velvety case as your mind starts ticking like a timebomb. “What is it?” you whisper, not even recognizing the muttering voice that asks the question.

   “Open it and see,” he smiles, his brown doe eyes sparkling with excitement as he hands you the tiny box.

   You slowly grasp it in your palm, taking a deep breath as you carefully open the lid of the box. Your eyes grow wide when you see a silver chain necklace displayed inside, complete with a key that glints under the dim lights of the living room. You pull it out and assess it, running your fingers over the crisp edges, and then when you turn the key around you freeze.

   Right there in the middle of the silver key are the words “Miller’s Girl” carved in fancy cursive, completewith a little heart to the right of the name. You freeze, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you take in the most perfect gift he’s given you by far. “Joel…” you whisper, eyes glossing over as you think you know what this is.

   He turns you toward him and leans in, a crooked smile pressed against his mouth as he looks at you with longing, syrupy eyes that make you want to just melt into a puddle on the floor. “I know you’ve been havin’ a hard time pickin’ an apartment out of all the ones we’ve looked at, but I want you to forget that. Forget every single one we’ve ever viewed, forget the paperwork, forget the costs, forget it all,” he murmurs quickly. 

   You drop the jewelry box on the floor without a thought in your mind, one hand latched onto the silver necklace, the other laced through his fingers, holding on to every single word he’s telling you.

   “You don’t belong in any of them. You jus’ belong in my bed, in my house, with me,” he states, honey-glazed eyes locking with yours as heat builds in your chest.

   “Joel…” you whisper, losing your breath as you pull yourself back together. “Are you asking me to…?”

   “Yes,” he sighs, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear tenderly. “I’m askin’ you to move in with me because I jus’ can’t stand that thought of not havin’ you in my arms every single night now, sweetheart. Wanna take this a step further, if that’s what you want, too,” he smiles as he brushes the tip of his thumb over your lower lip. “Wanna see what it’s like wakin’ up to your gorgeous face in the mornings, wanna know what it’s like havin’ you in my space permanently. Move in with me.”

   Your eyes glaze over with pure admiration and love for every single word Joel just spilled from his lips. You think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

   You throw your arms around his neck and wrap him tight in your embrace as his arms tangle around your back. “Yes, a million times yes!” you shriek, planting your lips on his as he pulls you down against his lap. 

   When he pulls away, he spins you around, instructing you to hold your hair up as he carefully latches the necklace around your neck. When you turn back around and face him, one hand is caressing your cheek softly while the other is curving down your personalized necklace, the literal key to his heart.

   Your thumb traces over the words Miller’s Girl and end on the heart as his hand comes down to clasp around yours. “Miller’s Girl, huh?” you ask with a wide smile splayed all over your mouth.

   “That’s right, sweetheart. Thought I’d get it carved on there to remind you jus’ who you belong to so you never forget,” he smiles, his glistening eyes bright and beautiful as he presses a delicate kiss to the back of your knuckles.

   You giggle and shake your head in amazement, watching the absolute love of your life express just how he feels about you. It’s all so surreal, all so perfect. And you honestly think it couldn’t get much better than this.

   “You really want me to move in?” you whisper as you look into those gentle brown eyes you can’t get enough of.

   “I really do, sweetheart,” he smiles.

   He cups your chin and brings you to his mouth slowly, and then your lips are on his. The kiss is slow, passionate as your fingers curl around his soft flannel, breathing in the woodsy cologne that makes your head dizzy. 

   “Never gonna let you go,” he whispers as his mouth crashes back down on yours while your arms lock around his neck, and he pulls you flush to his chest. 

   You get so wrapped up in the kiss that you don't hear the front door being shoved open, and then your world shifts and stops in the next second.

   “What the hell is this!” your dad shouts across the room. 

 You frantically pull away from Joel and shoot up from the couch, clutching your necklace with wide eyes as you freeze. Oh, shit. 

   Joel pushes himself off the leather couch and holds a hand out. “George, I can explain,” Joel replies softly, but you can see the panic flaring in his dark brown eyes.

   “Can you explain why you have your mouth and your hands all over my daughter?!” he yells angrily as his roar echoes around the vicinity of the house. Sarah looks between you and Joel and wishes she could help; your mom just stands there with her hand on her chest like she can’t believe this is happening. 

   Joel takes a deep breath and sighs. “Jus’ cool it, George. I can explain.”

   Your dad cuts Joel’s voice off and shoves past him, snatching your wrist as he starts to drag you toward the sliding glass door. “Excuse me, I need to talk to my daughter alone. I’ll deal with you next,” he growls as he throws you outside on the patio and slams the door shut, only having it become open again as your mom slips outside. 

   Your blood races in your body, and you can’t stop the sheer panic that’s making your heart beat straight out of your chest. “Wanna tell me why the fuck my best friend was all over you?” he asks sternly with his big hands on his hips.

   “We… we're together!” you stutter out.

   “Together? You mean to tell me you two have been dating behind my back?” His eyes glow almost red, and you fight to hide behind anything to shield yourself from how mad he looks. 

   “Yes! We’ve been dating! Not like we could’ve told you because this is how your reaction would’ve been!” 

   “That don’t give you the right to be sneaking behind my back, little girl. And Joel?! For the love of god, he’s twice your age! You know how bad that looks having my best friend go after my daughter who’s still in college?” he bites out with gnashing teeth.

   “I’m not a child, Dad! I’m twenty-six-years-old,” you pout while you cross your arms over your chest, feeling the bite of frigid wind blast through your sweater. “And I’m not in college. I’m in law school, which is super hard to even get into in the first place. And you know what? I’m making straight A’s! But you wouldn’t get that, would you? Because once again, you’re disregarding my accomplishments and making me feel awful about them.” You feel warm tears splash against your cheeks while your mom just stands there in shock. She wouldn’t dare interrupt when your dad is having a meltdown, but you see it in her glossy eyes that she doesn’t agree with him. Maybe she’s on your side after all. 

   “I’m not overlooking your accomplishments,” he scoffs as he shakes his head.

   “Yes, you are! Are you hearing yourself?”

   “Just cool it, kid. Enough. He’s forty-five, twice your age. What the fuck were you thinking? Did he manipulate you into this or did he just decide it was okay to screw around with my daughter?” he asks with an angry tick of his jaw.

   “No, it wasn’t like that at all! Joel is a nice guy, Dad. He would never hurt me. He cares about me, just like I care about him. And I really really like him, Dad.” You catch your breath and loosen the tight grip on your necklace as it falls against your chest. That was clearly a mistake because now he sees the glint of the key, and his eyes grow furious. 

   “What the fuck is this?” he asks angrily as he snatches it and yanks it off your neck. You reach for it, but he swipes it away as he inspects the silver key. “Miller’s girl. The hell does he think he’s doing? Is that a key to his place? Is that why you’ve taken so long to find an apartment because you were planning all along to move in with him?!” His voice is so splattered in anger that you barely recognize the man that stands in front of you, even your mom looks taken aback with wide eyes. 

   “No, Dad! God, just stop! If you can’t talk to me like a normal adult, then just stop. Me and Joel are together whether you like it or not. And that’s not going to stop either of our feelings.”

   “Feelings, huh? That what this is?” He scoffs, scowling down at the necklace as his thumb pierces into the metal. “You clearly don’t know anything, hun. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

   “But Dad, I love him!” you whine, biting your lip to keep fresh tears from slipping down your cheeks.

   “Love?!” he ridicules, spitting out the word like it’s poison on his tongue. “You don’t know anything about love or Joel,” he mutters. 

   “No? I think I know a hell of a lot more about Joel than you do. If you really took a good look at the picture, you’d see how clearly in love me and Joel are with each other. And this is why we decided to not tell you because you just wouldn’t understand. This is why I can’t tell you anything! Because you just throw it back in my face and never support my decisions. God, just for once don’t try to fight me on the one thing I want!” You blow out a deep breath and fist your tight knuckles at your sides.

   “He’s not a good fit for you,” he mumbles under his breath while his fingers tap mindlessly against your necklace.

   “No? Do you know who took me to Galveston when you canceled last minute? Joel did! And who took me around to look at multiple apartments, who spent hours trying to help me find exactly what I wanted? Joel! And you know who is always there for me, who helps me study for tests in my law classes, who is there for me no matter what time of day it is? Joel, Joel, Joel! That’s who! Not you, the man who’s supposed to always be there for me but can’t be. So forgive me for falling in love with someone that could give me everything I needed when I was never given those things in the first place!”

   He looks at you with his jaw ticked, his eyes red from the anger that boils inside him. And maybe you see a tad bit of sorrow and regret in his lost eyes, but he doesn’t even apologize. He just clutches the silver necklace tighter and forms his mouth in a tight line. “Hun, just let me explain,” he tries.

   “Explain?” You laugh and wipe a tear from your lash line. 

   “Yes! Look, I know I haven’t always been there for you with work and everything. But hun, Joel is not the answer to…”

   You turn sharply and cut him off, looking to your mom who just stands in the corner meekly by the sliding door with her eyes wide and mouth locked shut. “Mom, please! Back me up here?”

   “George, just listen to her. Will you? You’re not hearing her,” she tries with an even breath.

   “I’ve heard enough!” he barks as he turns back to you with a deep scowl on his face, obviously still very unhappy with you. But when was he ever happy with you in the first place? Almost never. 

   “Yeah, I’m sure you have. Because you never listen. Thanks for letting me down once again, Dad.” You brush past him without stopping for the necklace, letting the tears burn hot in your eyes as the world slowly caves in on you. You don’t even look at your mom as you rush past her, just needing to be anywhere that they’re not so you can breathe.

   Breathe. Remember how to breathe.

   You sniffle and rub at your blurry eyes, and then you find Joel standing in the middle of the living room with the saddest brown eyes he’s ever given you. This just makes you cry more.

   “Baby, you alright?” he asks with a shaky breath, reaching out an open hand for you as if he can take all the pain away.

   “No.” You push away from his advances and knock your shoulder against his, tugging away until you’re practically sprinting for the door. You don’t stop for Sarah who’s standing in the kitchen, don’t stop for Joel calling your name in that broken tone of his, all you do is rush for fresh air where you’re alone, where you can think. But you don’t really want to be alone, do you? You just want Joel. But your dad has completely ruined that. He ruined everything. 

   Joel feels the icy sting as your shoulder brushes past him; he sees the tears cloud your beautiful eyes as they cascade down your flawless face. He knows he’s fucked, knows your father will hate him now, but all he wants to do is pull you into his strong arms so he can hold you and tell you everything will be alright, that the two of you will be just fine. Because he’s not letting you go. No. He’ll never let you go. Not even if your father hates his guts now.

   Just when he starts to turn and go to you, he feels a looming presence behind him that feels a lot like a rush of cold ice freezing him out. 

   “Joel, a word.” George’s deep voice fills the room, and Joel nods and walks with his head down low like he’s a puppy being scolded for making a mess on the kitchen floor.

   The air feels frigid, and he digs his large hands nervously into the pocket of his jeans while he stands on the back porch and looks over to see George practically tearing him to shreds with just his predatory eyes across the way.

   “How long?” His voice is clipped, and Joel shivers at the sound of that icy tone.

   “George, I…”

   “How. Long.” 

   “Almost seven months…” he says quietly with his head down low.

   “Jesus Christ, Joel.”

   He holds up a palm and tries to explain, but his shaky breath doesn’t do him any favors. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

   “Didn’t what? That’s my daughter, Joel!” His eyes glow violent against the hue of the orange sunset that’s painted in the sky, murky clouds trying to fog over the brightness like the depths of his dark soul right now.

   “I know! You don’t think I didn’t think of that before I started this whole thing?” Joel’s jaw ticks, and his thick fingers form into tight fists as he tries to stay in control. 

   “I don’t know, Joel. You tell me.” George narrows his eyes and crosses his arms as he waits for an explanation.

   “It’s not like I planned to fall for your daughter, it just happened.”

   “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me!” George slams his hand against the closed grill, and Joel sees the glimmer of your silver necklace that sits locked in his unforgiving fist. The one with the key to his heart he so casually gave you earlier. Joel’s eyes glisten with frustrated tears, but he doesn’t let a single one fall. He’s stronger than that.

   “Because this is why I didn’t, why we didn’t! Because we knew you’d be pissed.” His rugged voice comes out clipped because he’s tired, so very tired of hiding his feelings. No more, he’ll lay it out thick if he has to.

   “You’re damn right I’m pissed! You’ve been secretly dating my twenty-six-year-old daughter without me knowing and have been sneaking around this whole time. Hell, did anyone else know?”

   “Sarah knew,” Joel says quietly as he takes a step back.

   “Oh, so you tell her but not me?” George looks positively pissed, to say the least.

   “I didn’t tell her, she figured it out herself. Saw us on a date, and I couldn’t cover that up. So yes, she knows. And Tommy knows, too.”

   “Even better,” George chuckles. “And this? What do you have to say about this?” He clutches the silver key in his palm and stares angrily at Joel while his mouth ticks up in a deep scowl. 

   “That’s… I asked her to move in with me.” There’s no getting around this, so he might as well come clean. But every bone in his body tells him to grab the necklace and run out the door. He needs to make sure you’re okay. That’s the only thing that matters now.

   “Move in with you! Why would you…”

   “Because I love her…” His voice is soft, quiet, like he’s afraid he’ll disturb anyone that hears. 

   “I don’t wanna hear—”

   “George, let him talk. I want to hear this,” Claire turns and nods to him. “Go on, Joel.” Joel hesitates but gives her a tight-lipped smile and says thank you with his softening eyes.

   George pinches the bridge of his nose while he waits, and Joel takes a deep breath before he speaks, letting his nerves settle before he spills it all. “She’s been so stressed tryin’ to find the perfect apartment, and nothing right was workin’. And I jus’… I’d rather her move in with me. ‘Cause I want her there, and I’d look after her and take care of her, and…”

   George grunts and clenches the silver key harder, but Claire just gives him a stern look and tells Joel to continue. “Go on,” she encourages with a small smile. 

   Joel takes a breath and starts again. “Look, George, I never meant to fall for your daughter, but I did. And you know what? It was the best decision of my life. She’s so… she’s so kind and smart as hell. And she jus’ is the brightest ray of sunshine and lights up my entire life. And she’s so beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the world.”

   Claire tears up a little in the corner, and Joel picks absentmindedly at the fringe on his flannel. He can’t help but grin as he thinks of your beautiful smile, the way you make him feel as if no one else in the world exists when you’re with him. You’re like the golden sunset that stays up just long enough to wrap him in pure warmth and sunlight, the one thing that keeps his heart pumping through his veins. You’re it for him, he thinks you always have been. He just didn’t know it till this year.

   “I never thought this would happen, but it did. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Even if it meant ruining our friendship and you never forgiving me. I can’t give her up, George. I won’t. She makes me so fuckin’ happy, and I’d die before there was a day I ever hurt her. Losing her isn’t a choice for me because I love her, will continue to love her for as long as I live.”

   “Joel…” Claire smiles with a gleam in her clear eyes. “You really love her?”

   “Mmm. I really do. I’d do jus’ about anything for that girl. She’s so precious to me. So forgive me if I’ve spent the last almost seven months givin’ her everything I possibly could. She has my heart and always will.”

   Claire shifts and wipes a stray tear from her eyes, giving him a warm smile that says she’s so happy her daughter has him. And that takes some relief off his burdened back. Now it’s just George he has to worry about.

   George stares and stares at the silver necklace with knit eyebrows, contorting his features into something Joel can’t make out what it means. There’s a beat of hesitance before George looks up and stares directly into Joel’s eyes, like he’s hearing him clearly for the first time. “You really love my little girl, don’t you…” His eyes clear up, no more hatred or scowling or anything remotely hostile. They’re just awestruck.

   “With all my heart,” Joel mutters through the chill of the evening. 

   The cold breeze slips through Joel’s tousled curls, running straight down his spine while he waits to see what will happen next. Waiting to see if his best friend will toss him overboard for the sharks to tear him to shreds, or waiting for the acceptance that it’s okay to date his daughter.

   It’s like the world stops spinning, the only noise is the bated breath he’s holding while he watches his best friend flip the gifted necklace back and forth repeatedly in his palm. The silence is torture.

   Finally, George looks back up and sighs before licking his bottom lip and muttering. “Here, take it.” He holds the necklace by the clasp and jangles it in front of him, edging on Joel to take it.

   Joel stares at the gleaming key, reading Miller’s Girl in silver letters, the one that belongs to his girl. And when he hesitates, George shoves out his arm again, letting the necklace toss and turn in his grasp. “Take it,” he repeats, a little softer this time. 

   He walks forward, scuffing his shiny boots against the pavement and stops in front of his best friend, till the key is safely back in Joel’s grasp. He looks up slowly and sees George’s eyes almost tear up, but they still hold some faint hesitation in those uncertain irises.

   “Look, it’s gonna take me a while to be okay with this. You’re gonna have to give me a little space to process this, but I… I give you permission to date her because… because I trust you more than any of those other clowns she’s dated. And you lookout for her, especially when I’m not around, and you obviously care a lot. And sounds like you love her a lot. So… if this ever leads to more than just moving in together and dating then… just ask me next time, but I think I’ll be okay with it.”

   Joel’s eyes go wide at the words, and before he knows it he has his arms wrapped tightly around his best friend’s back in pure shock. George pounds a strong hand on Joel’s back and mumbles under his breath that that’s enough. Claire gives him a gentle smile and watches the two friends make up in peace.

   “Thank you, George. For trustin’ me with your daughter.”

   George shoos him away and grits his teeth together into a pressed smile. “Yeah, yeah. Jus’ go talk to your girl, Joel. Let the old man have some space for a few minutes. I need a drink,” he sighs as he heads back inside for a cold beer in the fridge.

   Joel nods to Claire and then makes a beeline for the front door, knowing you're sitting out there in the cold with tears streaming down your beautiful face. He has to fix it.

   The sunset slowly slipping under the grey clouds doesn’t help your mood as another tear escapes down your cheek, falling to the ground with a splash as you hug your knees tighter to your chest while you lean against the front porch railing. You always knew your father wouldn’t approve, and now he’s ruined your most favorite thing in this world.

   You almost miss the large figure that stands behind you until he’s kneeling down and wrapping his arms tightly around you like a warm blanket that drapes over your skin. His usual coffee scent and strong cologne showers you in a still calmness that only he brings you, and suddenly you feel like you’re home. 

   “Joel,” you sniffle into his warm chest, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck while his big hands run up and down your back in soothing motions.

   “‘S’alright, sweetheart. You’re okay now. I’ve got you.” His gentle tone surrounds you in a cloud of comfort, and you suddenly feel warm and light for the first time since your parents saw the two of you kiss.

   “But they… my dad…” You can’t even speak clearly. Your words are all warped and clipped each time you think of how angry your dad was, how violently he ripped into your heart when all you were trying to do was tell him how much Joel meant to you. It was a disaster that was waiting to happen, and you let it.

   “Hey, look at me.” He tips your chin up and brushes the next tear away that clashes against your eyelashes. “Everything’s okay now. We’re okay.”

   You look at him with confusion swirling in your irises as your fingers clasps around his fuzzy flannel you love to wear so much. “We’re okay?” you whisper out in a daze.

   “Mhm,” he nods as a warm smile slips over his plush mouth. He digs into the pocket of his jeans and grasps the silver chain in his palm. Your necklace. 

   “Think this belongs to you.” Joel opens his palm and reveals the silver key that has your name written all over it. The key that promises for a future together, your future. A life with him in it, a step before a lifetime together.

   “Joel… he gave it back?” You gawk as your finger brushes against the metal, clasping your hand over his so you can feel the promise of forever in the warmth of his calloused palm.

   “Mhm. It belongs to you.” He pushes it into your open palm and closes your fingers over the cold silver, letting his hand linger over yours as his warm breath invades your space.

   You take a moment to register what this means, what this might promise. Did this mean your dad… Your eyes flick to his with agility, and your lips part as you exhale a long breath. “Does this mean... Did my dad…”

   A smile curls against his mouth and he nods. “‘S’alright now. After I talked to him, after I explained myself, he listened. He’s okay with us, darlin’. Well, as good as he’ll be right now. Might take some time to mend our friendship back to how it was, but s’okay. We’re gonna be jus’ fine. And you and me? We’re gonna be more than fine.”

   You throw your arms around Joel’s neck and sink your lips against his, letting his cinnamon taste melt into your mouth until you can taste nothing but him. He pulls you against his broad chest and strokes his calloused fingers against the back of your neck, tugging until you’re flush to him so he can ravish and serenade your mouth with the taste and feel of his warm, lush tongue. 

   It only takes minutes of heated passion until he pulls his lips from yours and rests his forehead against yours. You’re both out of breath, but you guess that’s how the two of you always are. Always giving your entire being to each other until the other is completely satisfied. But it’s not about that this time, it’s about finally being able to express your love for each other out in public. No more hiding from your parents, your friends, no one. It’s you and Joel against the world now, and there’s not anything you can’t conquer now.

   He moves your hair across one shoulder and clasps the necklace around your neck, leaving it right where it belongs now. Yours. 

   “There,” he smiles as he glides his fingers over the silver key. “Right back where it belongs. Right over your heart.”

   You take a moment to admire the syrupy eyes that flick to yours as you rake your fingers through his silvery scruff, dragging your nails slowly as he groans at the feel of you. “I love when you do that,” he murmurs as his thumb strokes your bottom lip delicately.

   “Well, get used to it because I’m about to be living with you,” you smile.

   “Mmm. I like the sound of that. You in my arms every single night? Wakin’ up to the glow of your stunning smile? Bein’ able to kiss you whenever I want, wherever I want? Yeah, I could get used to this.” His lips drag down your cheek and end on your lips softly, but then they’re gone in a flash as he traces his fingertips over the back of your hand.

   “Slow mornings with freshly brewed coffee, your lips, and me curled up in your lap? Yeah, I could get used to this, too.” Your lips find his once more, and then you’re floating off in a little bubble, to a place only you and Joel know how to get to.

   When his lips untangle from yours, he smiles and gives you those loving sweet eyes you never can seem to get enough of. “I love you, darlin’.”

   “I love you too, Joel.”

   The evening slips by in a rush. Your parents are weirdly mellow about the whole thing, but your dad still sends a couple snarls your way when he sees you and Joel holding hands. But he surprises you when he sends you off with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before you go back to Joel’s house. 

   It doesn’t take him long till Joel and him are doing fishing trips, watching football games together, and going out for beers again. And you kind of love that Joel didn’t have to lose his best friend over you. No. Joel got to keep both of you, and you couldn’t help but tear up when you saw how close they were again just a month after the whole Christmas disaster. You guess some things just fall into place like you and Joel did.

   You never expected to fall in love with your dad’s best friend, but it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to you. And now? You’re finally free to live your life with your favorite person by your side.

   You don’t know what the next year will bring or the year after, but you know Joel will be there no matter what. 

[palioom]

santa claus is comin' (to town)

summary: the children of Jackson aren't the only ones excited about Santa visiting.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; established relationship; santa kink; unprotected p in v; creampie, lap sex

a/n: banners by @/saradika-graphics

follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates

Christmas in Jackson was a cheerful time. Allowing its residents some rest and peace in between the daily reminders of survival in a world overgrown by fungus.

There was a tree – a beautiful, tall fir – which they had felled in the surrounding woods and placed in the small town square, lit up with bright, colourful lights and hundreds of handmade decorations from the residents. Mostly made by children, as they learned to work with wood, just small figures like hearts and stars.

The houses and shops were decorated with just as much colour, lighting up everything around them.

And, Jackson even had its very own Santa.

Clad in all red, slightly yellowed fur trims on the sleeves of the shirt, the brim of the hat and on the hems of the pants. A nice, gray beard, and even a hint of Santa’s iconic, large belly.

Joel hadn’t really wanted to do it at first, eyeing the costume they had found on one of their runs with slight concern before he eventually relented. But only after Tommy had nagged at him a bit and Joel’s girl had sweet talked him into it.

The kids went wild for him, screaming and laughing when he walked down the streets, waving at them and laughing back. That really was when he had started to like it, seeing their eyes shine, prodding at the heavy sack slung over his shoulder – as well as his tummy.

To be honest, he had missed this a little, and it reminded him of how much Sarah loved to go down to the mall to tell Santa her Christmas wishes. Back when she was younger. He could still see her perched on Santa’s knee, the widest smile on her face as someone took their photo.

Now, it was him who had the kids whispering their wishes into his ear, just to squeal in delight when he pulled the requested toy or book from the brown sack next to him. A genuine smile on his face when one kid hopped off so the next could hop on.

It made her happy, too. Seeing the old man happy and laughing like this after he had grumbled about not really wanting to do it. 

And to be honest, he looked good like this. It had been a fight to keep her hands off of him when he first tried on the costume. The longer beard he had grown out just for this suited him well, too, her mind wandering to how it would feel on the inside of her thighs. 

And that belly.

She had teased him about it, asked if he had grown it just for this as well, something he answered with a grumpy look, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.

But she loved it, loved him a little bigger and so soft and warm.

All in all, Joel was just unbelievably hot. Even when dressed as Santa.

Especially when dressed as Santa.

So when she had to leave the event early to get dinner going while he stayed behind, she really couldn’t stop thinking about him. About him and that stupid but hot costume, wanting to sit on his lap and having him give her a very special gift as well.

One that only he could give her.

So when he finally came home over an hour later, she quickly made her way out of the kitchen and to the front door, catching him as he wanted to take off his hat. 

“Leave it on.” She mumbled against his lips as her arms wrapped around his neck. His beard scratched against her skin and she could feel his arms encircle her waist. “There’s someone else who wants to sit on Santa’s lap.”

The low hum he let out quickly turned into a groan, his broad hands squeezing at her sides and hungrily kissing her back. He still found her love for this costume ridiculous, but Joel couldn’t deny that this whole thing was really hot.

“Wanna lay over Santa’s knee instead?” Joel asked, pushing her back into the living room, towards his favourite armchair.

She laughed, shaking her head when she parted from him for a moment.

“Mhmmm, no. I want to tell Santa my wish, too.”

His eyebrows shot up, a wide grin on his face that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. Now that certainly was something.

Sitting down on the chair, he pulled her down onto his leg by her waist, spreading his legs wide. His cock was already pressing uncomfortably against the fabric of these stupid pants, excited about what she wanted to do.

Right back in his role, his gloved hands dipping beneath the hem of her turtleneck and grabbing her waist. All while she looked at him as innocently as she could, biting her bottom lip.

“Now, tell Santa,” Joel said, his voice dropping a few octaves, “have you been a good girl this year?”

She giggled, nodding her head. Oh, this was already better than what she could have imagined.

“Of course, Santa.” Her voice was sugary sweet when she replied. “I’m always a good girl.”

Joel chuckled, his grip tightening on her waist. His head flooded with images of her being anything but a good girl.

How dare she lie to Santa himself?

“Well, somebody told me that that’s a lie, angel.” He replied, his hands skirting higher over her sides, feeling the warmth of her through the gloves. “You’ve been a naughty girl, and naughty girls don’t get presents from Santa.”

Blood was already rushing in her ears, her eyes dropping down to the tent in his pants. She rubbed her thighs together, needing any kind of friction on her throbbing clit. 

One of Joel’s large hands came out from beneath her top and smoothed over her thigh instead, dipping towards the inside before getting dangerously close to where she needed him the most. Hearing her breath hitch at the touch.

“But Santa, please.” She whined, putting on her best puppy eyes in an attempt to sway and convince him that she indee did deserve a present.

“Naughty girls get a very special something from Santa instead.” He whispered, his fingers finally pressing against her clothed pussy, making her moan. “‘Specially ones as naughty as you have been.”

Just rubbing back and forth, unable to feel if he found her clit through the thick gloves, but he was quite sure that he did with how she reacted to it. 

“Do you want to know what that is?” He asked, growing impatient with how she whined and ground back into his fingers.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. She desperately needed to know and she hoped they both were on the same page here.

“Yes, Santa. Please.” 

A small growl escaped Joel when he made her stand up, with her back to him, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of the sweatpants she wore before pulling them down. Exposing her ass clad in a lacy thong to him.

When he pulled her back into his lap, his dick ground against her ass, her legs spreading over his own. Joel held her by the hips, his own rutting up into her and making him moan, too.

There was no way he could handle this for long, lifting his hips to shimmy down his pants so his cock was free, hard and rubbing through the wetness that seeped through her underwear. Sliding it back and forth, hearing her soft moans whenever he nudged against her clit through the lace.

“You like what Santa got you?”

She hummed with a frenzied nod, her body so hot compared to the icy coldness outside. Her eyes were glued to his cock, watching the head become shinier with every rock of his hips - fat and angry and just waiting to be swallowed up by her greedy pussy.

“I love it, Santa, oh-” Biting her lip, she watched Joel take off his dark gloves, revealing his tanned, broad hands, the veins on the backs of them protruding. They moved to her panties, his fingers hooking into the lace and pulling them to the side.

Allowing his cock to slide against her bare pussy without any barriers.

This was an even better image, the head vanishing and coming back into view, nudging against her clit and making her squirm in his lap.

“All special, only for the naughtiest girls.” Joel chuckled, his breath hitching in his throat. She felt so nice and wet and he wasn’t even inside of that dripping pussy yet. He could come just like this, sliding through her folds, the image of it so lewd. 

But the way she stared at it was almost lewder – wide, dark eyes, looking like she was about to jump off his lap and drop to her knees instead. He swore he could see a trickle of drool on one corner of those pretty lips, glistening in the light.

She couldn’t wait to have it inside of her, to feel the thick length of him spread her pussy open. As much as she liked the view of him like this, she reached for his cock with one hand, raising her hips as much as she could. Prodding against her entrance but not pushing in, she just felt the thick head resting there.

Joel’s chuckle vibrated against her back before she could hear it fall from his mouth, almost sounding like Santa himself – causing a new gush of wetness to release on him.

Fucking Santa on his lap hadn’t been something she thought to turn her on.

“You really are a naughty girl.” He said, close to her ear and shifting his hips. Just lightly feeding her the swollen tip, relishing in the sweet mewls she let out. “Looks like Santa has to punish you, hm?”

She barely listened, so focused on the feeling of him splitting her open as she slowly sank down on his hard cock. Feeling inch by inch enter her, until she was back in his lap again, one of his broad hands holding her hip while the other went to find her nipple beneath her shirt.

“So big, so big, fuck-” Her voice was small, her eyes still focused on where his cock was vanishing inside of her. Feeling impatient as he just kept her there and whining when he pinched her nipple. “Santa, please.”

His hips rocked up into her at the name. It was lewd, naughty, to have her call him Santa. But Joel couldn’t deny that it was fucking hot, too.

“You like Santa’s very special gift for naughty girls?” He asked, thrusting up into her again, his hand on her hip aiding her as she carefully began to move in his lap. Still teasing her nipple, pinching and twisting the little nub in between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Mhmm, yes, I love Santa’s gift.” She moaned, feeling the unbearable need to strip out of her clothes entirely, feeling the heat of his body against hers while her veins were on fire. “‘M gonna be a naughty girl every year, Santa.”

Joel chuckled, the sound strangled by the moan that creeped up his throat when her pussy gripped him tight. Obviously she was enjoying this whole game as much as he did, if not more.

Slowly he rocked up into her faster, watching her face contort in pleasure. But she never took her eyes off of his cock, watching her juices run down the length, frothing with each thrust.

“You already are the naughtiest.” Joel rasped, feeling his balls twitch as her pussy contracted around his cock again. Her moans and mewls became higher in pitch and she seemed to have trouble keeping up the rhythm she had set to match his. “Bouncing on Santa’s lap, creamin’ all over him.”

He accentuated his words with another pinch of her nipple, her back arching deliciously into his touch.

But soon he took away his hand from her breasts to rest on her other hip, helping to lift and slam her down onto his cock over and over as her movements became more erratic.

“Santa has even more gifts for you.” He teased, dancing dangerously close on the edge of his orgasm.

“Yes, yes yes.” She breathed out, whining. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the room, only spurring her on more as she watched him bury himself inside of her aching pussy again and again. “Please, Santa- Give it to me, give it all to me!”

Joel chuckled, his mouth attaching to the skin below her ear and biting down. His hands pushed her down hard just as his hips rocked up – pushing her over the edge she had been dancing on as well. 

“Santa- Fuck!”

She gripped him like a vice, her hands finding his as her orgasm seared through her and Joel fucked her through it, his voice becoming darker.

“Like that, like that-” He mumbled, needing just a few more thrusts with how madly she was still pulsing around him. “Fucking naughty girl, strangling Santa’s cock- Oh, shit-”

Joel kept thrusting up as he spilled himself inside of her greedy pussy, filling her up as she writhed in his grip, her hips still erratic on top of him.

He couldn’t stop his cock from slipping out, a noise of protest leaving her which was quickly replaced with a moan as she watched the last few ropes of cum splash over her mound and the bottom of her shirt, the white in stark contrast to the dark fabric.

The view of his still swollen head gliding through her cum-covered pussy sent shivers through her as she came down from her high, hearing Joel’s heavy pants in her ear.

“Ain’t that better than coals in your stocking, darlin’?” He asked in between breaths, chuckling slightly. Watching the mess in between her legs, he couldn’t stop the small groan that creeped up his throat. “Gonna behave for next year?”

She giggled, finally tearing her gaze away from where his cock still rested in between her pussy lips to look at him instead. 

“Mhm, I don’t know.” She said, a grin spreading on her face. This whole thing was exactly what she’d needed, and she would fight for him to keep that stupid costume. And for him to put it on again. “Is my present gonna be better than this?”

His warm hands smoothed over her thighs, the fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt as he moved up. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and he knew this wouldn’t be the only time this happened. 

“We’ll see.” Joel said before leaning in and kissing her, hearing the soft hum vibrating in her chest. “But before next year… Maybe I have just a little something left in my sack for you.”

A laugh broke out of her, feeling herself clench around nothing as she thought of what else his sack contained for her. 

And she would enjoy every second of it.

[cameronspecial]

The More The Merrier

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Christmas for Y/N and Drew is a little different for the pair since the kids were born, but that's okay.

Masterlist

Before kids, Drew and Y/N used to be able to sleep in until noon on Christmas Day. They would roll out of bed, have a light late lunch while exchanging gifts in front of the tree and then head to whoever was hosting’s house on his side of the family. Christmas Eve was reserved to celebrate with her side of the family. But since the kids came along, Christmas Day was a whole fiasco. When Millie comes barreling into the room to jump on their bed, her parents have barely gotten three hours of sleep. Between getting the presents from Santa out and taking care of Tristan, sleep didn’t get to find Y/N and Drew. “It’s Christmas! You have to wake up,” she yells, bouncing on the bed like a bouncy ball. Y/N tries to escape her child’s screams and pretends to still be asleep. Drew, a victim of insomnia, accepts the defeat and rights himself to a sitting position. Maybe he can save Y/N from the same fate. “Come on, Sweetie. How about we go eat some breakfast before we open presents? Let Mommy sleep a little more,” he suggests, noticing that it is seven in the morning. However, it doesn’t work because Tristan’s cries have Y/N instinctual getting up. She heads to the nursery, “It’s fine. Go to the living room and I’ll bring Trist.”

Drew and Millie make their way to the living room and a few minutes later, Y/N arrives with Tristan in her arms. “Can we open presents now, please?” Millie begs, scrambling off her father’s lap to the tree. Y/N shakes her head and puts Tristan on the ground beside his sister, “Millie, you know we take pictures before we open the gifts.” The excited girl lets out a huff, settling beside her brother for the picture. The kids suffer through a few pictures before they are finally allowed to open their presents. 

Drew’s eyes are focused on his children until a weight appears on his shoulders. He looks down to see his wife fast asleep on him. He smiles at her and wraps his arm around her shoulder to bring her to his side. This catches Millie’s attention, so she runs over to her parents. “Is Mommy sleeping?” she whispers. Drew nods and holds his finger up to his lip. The answer seems to satisfy his daughter. She runs off to presumably go play with her new toys. Instead, she picks up her new Doc McStuffns blanket and returns to throw it onto her mother. She again leaves and then rushes to her parents to bring back one of the Christmas cookies they decorated last night. “Mommy likes cookies. It will give her energy when she wakes up,” Millie explains to her father. Drew feels as though he just drank a hot chocolate because a warmth stirs in his stomach. They are raising such a thoughtful and smart daughter. 

Feeling the cookie being placed on the blanket, Y/N’s eyes widen to see what it is. She notices the time on her phone and brews up a storm of swear words. They are going to be late to Brooke’s house. She hurries her family to get ready and they head to the family gathering. 

——

The tired couple placed the sleepy children in their own beds before going to their shared bedroom. They meet each other with a soft smile. “You know what we forgot to do this morning?” Y/N mumbles to her husband, leaving the room for a second to get something. She comes back with two gifts in her hands, “We forgot to open our gifts from each other.” Since they got married, Y/N and Drew agreed that they would make each other handmade gifts for Christmas. Birthday gifts can be bought, but Christmas presents have to be made. He gives her a grin, they both get changed and then sit on their bed beside each other. “You go first,” he encourages, placing his gift on her lap. Her hands carefully unwrap the small box to find a pair of dangling earrings. They both have turquoise beads, but one has an M charm and the other has a T one. “These are beautiful, Drew. Thank you,” she praises, pulling him in for a hug. “Here, open yours now.” 

His is a medium-sized rectangle. Like his children, Drew takes no time in ripping the paper open. Underneath, he finds a scrapbook. There are dozens of pictures of his family and him. Each page is occupied by a small blurb about the picture taken. “Sweetheart, this is amazing. Thank you. I can take this with me when I’m away for work,” he informs, kissing her temple. She bobs her head, “That’s the idea.” Silence fills the room for a few seconds before Drew speaks up. 

“Our Christmases are kinda different now with the kids.”

“Yeah. But in a better way. Which is weird to say because we got so little sleep last night.” 

He chuckles with his lips pressed to her cheek, “I agree. I think it’s because the more the merrier.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

[hendersister]

dancing in the dark

summary: you run into steve while he's picking up dustin to drive to the snow ball.

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

title 🎵: dancing in the dark by bruce springsteen

a/n: this is my first ever steve fic! i hope it doesn't suck 🫣

“Mom! Where did you leave the car keys?” 

You walk into the living room to find your mother watching TV. Her new kitten, Tews, sits comfortably on her lap. Christmas music is playing loudly in the background.

It’s a busy night in the Henderson household. Your little brother, Dustin, is getting ready to go to the Snow Ball at Hawkins Middle. He’s a little anxious but you can tell he’s excited. 

While Dustin is at the dance, you plan on going to the movies with a couple of your friends. Your mom is even letting you borrow her car under one condition - you have to pick up Dustin from the Snow Ball. Luckily, you don’t need to worry about giving Dustin a ride to the dance. He’s already got that covered… 

“In my purse,” she answers, nodding to her bag on the coffee table.

“Thanks!” you smile.

You reach for your mom’s purse and pull out her car keys.

“Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!”

Dustin frantically enters the living room in search of something.

“Where did you see it last?” your mom questions Dustin.

“Right here, where I put it,” he tells her.

“What’s in there that’s so important anyway? You look fabulous, baby,” your mom tries.

“Yeah listen to mom, dork! You look great,” you tease your little brother, ruffling his hair.

“Stop!” Dustin shrieks.

Dustin backs away from you and makes a b-line for the kitchen. You head towards the front door. Before walking out, you grab your coat hanging nearby.

“Don’t forget to pick Dusty up on your way home from the movies,” your mom reminds you.

You shrug, nodding your head. As if you needed the reminder. You’ve been looking after your little brother since the day he was born. After your father left, you took on a lot more responsibilities at home. You practically helped raise Dustin. You two are latch key kids. You used to babysit for Dustin everyday while your mom was working late. You and your brother became really close during that time. Sure, you and Dustin bicker occasionally, like all siblings do, but there’s a special bond between you two. 

“When have I ever forgotten to pick him?”

You put on your jacket, then call out to your brother.

“Hey Dustin! I’ll pick you up around ten.”

“Mhmm,” Dustin mumbles.

He’s so focused on looking for whatever he’s looking for, you don’t think he actually comprehend what you just said.

You roll your eyes and open the door.

“Got it!” you hear your little brother announce.

He grabs a paper bag off the kitchen counter. The last thing you see as you walk out the door is Dustin rushing off to his bedroom.

“Later mom! Have fun tonight, Dusty!” 

You close the door behind you on your way out. Just as you step outside, a red BMW pulls up in the driveway. You recognize the car and the driver immediately. It’s Steve Harrington.

You and Steve didn’t really know each other until a few weeks ago. Of course you knew of him, everybody did. He’s one of the most popular guys at Hawkins High. But Steve had no idea who you were. You never had a real conversation with Steve until the world almost came to an end….

It all started when Dustin had inadvertently adopted a creature from another dimension. Your little brother recruited you and Steve to help him handle the situation after the Demodog ate your mom’s cat, Mews. And, much to your surprise, Steve “The Hair'' Harrington actually stepped up to help. Until then, you had thought of him as douchebag King Steve. The experience made you see him in an entirely different light. Outside of school and away from all the petty teen drama, Steve Harrington is a good guy.

Steve bonded with both you and your little brother. What made you really grow to respect Steve was how he became close friends with Dustin. Your brother had been lacking a male role model since your dad left. Now Steve was starting to fill that role in Dustin’s life. You really appreciate Steve for everything he’s done for Dustin.

Steve parks his car right next to your mom’s. You’re walking towards your mom’s car when Steve gets out of his.

“Hey Steve,” you wave politely.

“Hey! Is he almost ready?” Steve asks.

You nod.

“Thanks for giving Dustin a ride. You saved me a trip…”

If Steve wasn’t driving Dustin then your mom probably would’ve made you take him.

“Yeah no problem. I think I’m basically one of his chauffeurs now anyways,” Steve nods.

“Welcome to the club, Harrington! We meet every Thursday to go over the driving schedule,” you joke.

Steve laughs, “Oh really? Well, I’ll make sure to bring the snacks for the next meeting.”

You quietly chuckle. You give Steve a small smile before you continue walking to your mom’s car. When you reach the car, you stop yourself from getting in. You turn back to Steve.

“I, uh, I think it’s really cool that you're driving Dustin to the dance,” you tell him sincerely. 

Steve nods, unsure what to say. You two lock eyes. There’s a spark there. You feel some sort of electricity between you and Steve. You’re having a quiet little moment. Well, at least you think so. You have no idea if Steve feels the same and you’re way too shy to make the first move. 

You take a deep breath and then break the silence.

“You’re a good guy, Steve Harrington.”

Before Steve has a chance to respond, you get in your mom’s car and drive off into the night. Steve watches you go, mentally kicking himself. He wishes he said something. When he was with you, he felt the spark too. But he's still getting over Nancy. Steve is just not ready for you yet. He'll get there... someday.

[siriuslysmoking]

Taking the Kids to See Santa with Steve

A/N: Day 11!!! WHOOP WHOOP! Core memories was going to see santa as a kid. Steve and Reader have 4 kids, oldest is a boy names Theo, then Amelia, then the twin girls Octavia and Kya

"Daddy! Daddy! Hurry!!" Theo shouts, tugging on Steve's hand.

"Hold on bud." Steve lets out a laugh, looking back at you where you are with the stroller. Small arms hold onto your leg as you walk, pushing the stroller with the twins. The six year old boy continues to tug on his father's arm as Steve calls for Amelia.

She detaches herself from your side and joins her older brother and father.

You take a picture of Steve hand in hand with your children passing the North Pole sign.

The six of you came from a nice dinner with Steve's side of the family.

Since you were all in nice clothing you decided to get in the queue for meeting santa. Your group traveled around the store wasting time. But when Theo and Amy saw the snow covered elf houses no one could hold them back. Your twin girls in the stroller stared at the shiny lights decorating the ceiling.

You agreed with Steve to wait in line with the twins while he explored Santa's Workshop with the two older kids.

You rock the stroller back and forth watching your two kids drag your husband back and forth through the shop.

Steve joins you in line about ten minutes later when you are third in line. "Hey love, long time no see."

You kiss him lightly, smiling into the kiss. WHen you get to second in line you get the Kya and Octavia out of the stroller, holding them in both yous and Steve's arms.

Your two older kids run up to Santa and sit on his lap, You and Steve set the girls into their older siblings arms, making sure they're secure before moving away for the photo. "Now what would you like for christmas?"

"A dollhouse." Amy smiles up at the man, he looks to Theo who quietly says, "A brother."

You and Steve barely hear it, but when you do you both share a look and a smile.

-

-

Taglist: @bunnyweasley23 @foolpr00f @arinexeisnotworking

[vinylfoxbooks]

July 16 - Stage | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 1123 Part 12 of Medium!James AU Previous Part | First Part

Regulus stands by the Gryffindor boys while everyone is waiting for the train, “My friends know about the whole situation. I’m going to be riding with them, but I’ll make sure to come by before we stop.”

James nods, smiling at him, “Alright, we’ve got the cloak with us. Project ‘Stage Reg’s Innocence’ is a go.” “That’s a horrible name.” Remus laughs.

“I only had a couple hours to come up with it!” James defends, crossing their arms and pouting, “Leave me alone.”

“It is rather stupid.” Regulus smiles, just before walking away and going to join his friends. 

Soon, everyone is getting on the train and their friends are finding themselves a car to sit in, seemingly not far from where Regulus and his friends end up. The train ride is fine, the four of them talking and laughing amongst themselves and figuring out how and when Pete and Remus are going to head over to the Potters’ place for Christmas. 

When they’re close to the station, Regulus is knocking on the door to their room and Sirius is quick to let him in. The younger Black sits himself between James and Pete, leaning into James’ warmth just a bit, being cold as he always is. 

“When we pull into the station.” Remus starts, “You’ll want to lay low, Regulus. We can look out for her, but we don’t want her to be able to see you through the window.”

James nods, “When we stop moving, I’ll cover you with the cloak,” They gesture to the piece of soft sitting in their lap, “and you walk out in front of me, I’ll be the last to leave. Stick close to Sirius and try not to run into anyone. If you walk between me and Pads, then you shouldn’t run into anyone, as long as you don’t mind me standing right behind you.”

Regulus shakes his head, “It’s fine.”

“We’ll meet up with Effie and Monty,” Sirius says, not looking away from Remus for a moment before he finally looks at his little brother, “And you should be safe. I wouldn’t take off the cloak until we get away from the station, but…”

“Got it.” Regulus nods, slipping to sit on the floor when the ugly screech of the train’s brakes start to sound throughout. Immediately, the marauders are glancing out of the window. 

“Shit.” Sirius hisses, “There she is. With Kreacher.” 

“Fuck me.” Regulus whispers. 

“It keeps happening,” Pete starts, “But everytime your fucking magic rings and jewelry works, I hate it. I hate you, James Potter.” James laughs at him, light-hearted and smiling wide. 

Finally the train comes to a full stop and everyone starts getting off. Luckily they’re a train car off from where Walburga and Kreacher were standing, which is Regulus’ usual train car. James throws his cloak over his crush and they all stand up. Pete is first out the door, then Remus, then Sirius, and finally Regulus with James right behind him. They leave the train and make quick work of getting across the platform to where Effie and Monty are usually waiting for them. When they glance over to where the woman is standing, she’s in Barty’s face, grilling him -- which he seems all too happy to fight back -- and not paying any attention to their group. 

Finally, the group arrives at where Effie and Monty are standing, waiting for Marlene. When she shows up, the family, Pete, and Marlene get ready to leave. Remus presses a kiss to Sirius’ lips before splitting from the rest of the group. 

When they’re finally back at the Potters’ house, Regulus allows the cloak to fall from his head and Pete and Marlene say their goodbyes before walking out of the house and heading to their own places. 

“Hello, Regulus.” Effie smiles, looking at the new boy, “Welcome to our home. We’ve got your room ready for you, it’s just right next to Sirius’ and close to James’ so you can head up there when you’re ready.”

“What did you kids want for lunch?” Monty asks, already making his way to the kitchen.

“I think sandwiches will work just fine for now, dad.” James smiles. They lean down to press a kiss to their mum’s cheek before taking their bag and heading upstairs, turning to Regulus and Sirius, “Are you two coming? We need to get our stuff put away.” And with that, they head up the stairs. 

Sirius disappears into his room and James leads Regulus to his after putting down their bag in their room, “Here’s your room, good sir.”

“You’re a fucking dork.” Regulus smiles, putting his bag down on the bed but refusing to meet James’ eyes as he sobers up, “Thank you, James. Seriously.”

“It’s no problem, Reg,” James smiles, “You’ll like my parents, but don’t feel forced to be around them. They’ll understand if you need space.” They reach forward and grabs his hands. 

“That’s- I appreciate that.” Finally, he looks up only to see James right in front of him, smiling down at him. Regulus allows his eyes to flit around James’ face, eventually landing on just watching his eyes as James looks over him, smile growing more passive than something they’re actively keeping up. It’s genuine and it makes Regulus’ heart flutter because James is so fucking attractive.

Their eyes flit down to his lips and Regulus really feels his heart skip a beat, “James…”

“What’s holding you back?” James asks, their voice a whisper, “I know that you want this. I know you feel this. Why… why won’t you do anything about it?”

“I’m scared, Jamie.”

“I know you are,” James hums, leaning forward and pressing their forehead to Regulus’, closing their eyes, “But you were also scared to come here, you were scared to rekindle your relationship with Sirius. You’ve been scared of doing things, but you did them anyway. Why are you holding back now, you’re not scared of me. You’re scared of your family but you’re going against them right now, standing in my home. Please, Reg. Take a chance on me.”

Regulus doesn’t respond for a while before he finally makes up his mind and surges forward, presses his lips to James, and wraps his arms around their waist. James takes a second to respond before their hands move from Regulus’ arms to his shoulders, kissing back just as ferociously. 

When they pull away, Regulus’ cheeks are red and James is smiling, “Thank you, Reg.”

“I’m not going back there.” Is Regulus’ response, “I’m not- I’m not going back to Grimmauld Place. I’ll find a way to grab my things then I’m gone… for good.”

“You’re perfect.” James breathes, leaning down and kissing Regulus once again.

Next Part

[strangersatellites]

maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for four

a cute little steddie dads ditty based on this tweet

Steve chuckles under his breath and flips the page. 

He’s got his back against the headboard in the low lamp light. It’s late and he’s reading some goofy romance novel that Max left for him last time she was over. Something about people on vacation. He doesn’t really know or care but it’s kept his mind occupied long enough.

Eddie’s sat at the other end of the bed, taking breaks from lightly strumming his guitar to jot down melodies or lyrics or whatever it is he writes in that notebook of his that he carries everywhere.

When Steve tries to start the next page the words stop being about the shitty hotel the characters are at and they start being measurements, instructions. 

He slams the book closed in his lap and tugs off his glasses, gets Eddie’s attention and meets his eyes, curious.

“Do you think we should’ve gotten chocolate chip instead?”

Eddie rolls his eyes with a smile and sits his guitar beside him. Huffs a laugh under his breath as he crawls up to wrap both long arms around Steve’s waist.

“Well,” he drags it out, dramatic as always, “Since both of the girls said they liked blueberry better, I’m putting my money on blueberry being the better option.”

Steve’s weighing the options in his head, nodding because he knows Eddie’s right.

“I know, Robbie flips out every time we have regular pancakes but,” he huffs, runs a hand through his hair, “It's pancake day. It has to be perfect. Do we even have syrup?”

Eddie pulls his head back from where he’d rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, his eyes now less amused and more confused.

“Okay, I thought we were stressing because it’s her first sleepover, what in the world is pancake day?”

Now Steve’s the one who looks confused, down-right offended.

“Uh, hello? Didn’t you have pancakes on Saturday morning after every sleepover growing up?”

Eddie wrinkles his eyebrows up. “No? Uncle Wayne woke us up and took us to the diner.”

And, well. Steve can forgive that. 

“Oh. That sounds pretty fun actually.”

Eddie snorts. 

“Yeah it was. It was probably just an excuse for him to go see his lady friend but I wasn’t gonna turn it down.”

Steve laughs and smiles at the thought of a grumpy Wayne trying to hit on the waitress and a child version of Eddie flicking eggs across the table.

“I wish I could’ve seen that.” He drops a kiss to Eddie’s temple before he continues. “When I was a kid, my mom always made a big pancake breakfast with syrup and whipped cream and sprinkles and it was the best part of the sleepover. I’ve always wanted to do that for Robbie.”

Eddie’s smile is soft and he’s tangling their fingers together over his lap. 

“Aaaaaand now that she’s old enough it has to be perfect. That right?”

Steve nods, lets out the breath he was holding in, lets some of the tension seep right out of his own skin and lets Eddie carry it for a while.

Eddie shifts and tugs Steve so that his head is tucked just near where his guitar pick sits in the hollow of his throat.

“Well, lucky for you, when I took the girls to Rob’s room for bed earlier, when I kissed her good night she told me this was the best day ever.” He tightens his arms around Steve and he can hear the smile in his voice. “I think you could feed them cereal and they’d think it was Christmas morning.”

Steve can’t help the smile on his face at the happiness that his daughter brings him. At the idea that letting her friend spend the night is the best day she’s had in the six years of her little life. Thinks that it might be top five days in his own thirty-two.

He snuggles down further into Eddie’s arms and laughs when the man huffs and reaches to turn off the light.

He kisses his chest and closes his eyes.

“Good night, Eds.”

“Good night, baby.”

He falls asleep to the sound of Eddie’s breathing and the hushed giggles down the hall, more excited than he’s maybe ever been.

Eddie’s set an early alarm to go check for syrup.

[teen6ge]

a nonsense christmas; kmg.

pairing: female!reader x bf!gyu

plot: mingyu has had it with his christmas costume... until he sees yours.

genre: fluff!!!!! a bit comedy too.

word count: 800

warnings: mentions of sexy word play(?) idk how to describe it, but anyway.

a/n: english is not my first english, so forgive me for the errors (also maybe try to disregard it idk sksmdm); i wrote this down while listening to sabrina carpenter's song that is also the title (*^‧^*) it's been quite a while since i posted something here and i do have a scenario to actually write down but i couldn't come up with anything good... anyway, if y'all want a part two or something like this with any other member, lmk! also, i do accept requests and such, so feel free! anyway, here we go. hope you enjoy it <3

"remind me why did i let you convince me into this again?" you laughed slightly at mingyu's whining while fixing his santa's clothes. you can't deny he did look good.

"i told you not to bet on soccer games with my dad, didn't i? i'm his lucky charm and he's always right." once you finished, you take a few steps back so you can look at him better.

crossing his arms and frowning, he asks "so... you're telling me my own girlfriend was the reason i lost the bet?!" as you smile and nod in agreement, he lets out a grunt in betrayal "i can't believe this!" you get closer to him again, hugging his waist while peppering kisses on his face, still not covered with the fake white beard.

"c'mon, baby... you're santa, not the grinch... let's go, my little cousins are going to freak out! oh and don't forget the beard."

the christmas party at your parents house was always a huge event. ever since you were little, your house would be filled with your family and your parents' friends. that was actually how you met mingyu and his parents. you were 6 and he was 8 at the time and you both would go play with other kids around the house. you always had a crush on him, but he only found out when you were graduating high school.

actually, his graduation gift for you was a kiss when he finally got you alone. and, without realising it, he was also your first kiss. ever since then, you started going out and, soon enough, you were dating. you are together for 5 years now and you've never been happier.

thinking about all those years, all those memories makes your heart flutter, and you can't believe how lucky you are to have met your soulmate ever since you were little. looking at him now, watching as he attentively listens to your little cousin asks for her christmas gift. she's sitting on his lap, his eyes focusing on her while he forces a different voice to talk to her so she doesn't know he is mingyu.

you excuse yourself while you run to the pool house, where you and mingyu are going to sleep tonight, and you close the curtains so nobody could look at what you are going to do. mingyu doesn't have to suffer alone with a christmas costume.

the second mingyu closes the door to the pool house, he lets his body rest against it while closing his eyes and removing the stupid hot fake beard and beanie, throwing it to the side. he sighs heavily, voice tired as he speaks. "baby, i swear to god i'll never ever bet with your dad again. you're absolutely right. fuck, this costume is horrible."

with no answer to his complaint, mingyu opens his eyes, frowning when he notices the room is completely dark and silent. he had seen you enter the pool house an hour ago, just assuming you were already too tired to continue partying. it's not like the party went on for too long, but he missed you a lot. but then... it's unusual for him to think that you'd sleep in the dark, he knows you too well that you can only rest properly if there's at least a lamp on.

taking a few steps towards the light switch, mingyu calls out your name, obviously not receiving an answer. the second his finger turn the lights on, the whole place lits up with fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. when mingyu looks at you, his jaw drops with how stunning and stupidly hot you look, which makes you smile satisfied.

you're wearing a mini red skirt with white fluffy edges that matches with your tank top and your santa beanie, along with thigh high black boots and gloves adorning your hands. there's also a string of the fairy lights around your body and a candy cane in your mouth while you're on your knees on the bed.

"surprise!" you say with little difficulty due to the candy. mingyu hasn't moved since he layed his eyes on you, afraid he will wake up at any moment now. you tilt your head a little to the side, candy falling from your lips so you could talk to him better. "gyu?"

it takes a few seconds for mingyu to recompose himself and finally close his mouth, now rubbing his face with both of his hands. oh, this is real he thinks to himself.

"baby, what... how... when did you...?" yep, you broke him. you laugh at his reaction, finally untangling yourself and standing up to walk towards him.

"well... isn't santa going to take care of his misses claus?" your hands pull him closer by his belt, smiling while biting your lip. now it's his turn to laugh.

"yeah... i've got a huge north pole and big snow balls for her as a christmas gift."

[thetravelingtyper]

Reaper (GN! Tall Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley) Spitfire Moment 2

You and Simon have a moment and Simon has a few skeletons on his mind.

Warnings: Some angst, talk of character death, happy ending. Possible OOC of characters

Part 1, Part 3, Masterlist

A/N: These moments are not in any particular chronological order so details are given in each description. Takes place before the events of COD MW2 2022. In this universe, the 141 had Soap knowing Ghost already.

(Deeply inspired by Woman by Mumford and Sons, Seriously if you want my emotional experience please listen to that on repeat while reading!)

A flash of lightning lights up your living room. Then it goes out, then a rumble of thunder like a wave. Christmas lights blink, threatening to go out, but they just resume their programmed pattern. You sit on the far side of the sofa, leaning against the arm with legs crossed as you sit sentinel. You are a silent guardian in the night as your partner sleeps.

Ruffled blond hair is soft under your fingertips, and you scratch lightly at Simon’s scalp as he grumbles something incoherent in his sleep. Ghost had entered your apartment, but the warmth of your soul let the reaper find rest. As a hardened machine, Ghost cut down enemies and bolstered allies alike, and yet the hardened cusp of a man was made whole with love here at this moment as he slept.

You reach a free hand behind you to the table, your scrying fingers brush hard plastic and you pick up the other half of your sleeping lover. As if sensing a call, Simon shifts, his loose arms pulling into himself a bit, but he does not awaken; instead his head turns and digs a little bit deeper into the pillow in your lap. He reminded you of a big dog trying to fit into a tiny dog bed, this thought leading a smile to your face and your eyes shift down to him for a moment. You pull his mask forward, holding it above his sleeping form, now taking your hand from his scalp to run it over the skull plate.

At one point you had been unnerved by Ghost. Despite your height, it was his way of carrying himself that allowed Ghost to tower over you. And yet your good-humored nature had won out when he had treated you with respect.

---

You were part of a United States Marines Covert Unit, the end of a long undercover mission had brought you to London for R&R as your Captain put it. The woman had given you a long look and then sent you for an extended break. Something about a ‘fisher friend’ over the ‘Pond,’ someone she thought you would enjoy. So with your few traveling possession bundled together, you took a late flight.

For some reason you were restless, and the moment you got off the plane you headed to your destination, a brick-built pub. Your Captain had told you to meet her contact in the next few days but you had nothing to do. 

Pushing into the pub you found a warm and rustic space. Hardwood tables, cushioned stools, and a good old chap running the place pulled you in quickly. The bartender and, as you found, the owner liked to keep the place open late.

“For those lonely wanderers, you military?” You nodded at the question and he gave a knowing nod, then gestured to a space behind the bar.

“Feel free to stay a while, you look like ya could use a drink and some company.”

You give the man a smile and set your carry-on and backpack down. You appreciated the hospitality and as you took a seat at the bar you looked around.

There were a few regulars, older gents who had a few too many waiting to leave, you look to the back, and a couple of ladies were playing pool. What you assumed was the older of the two was hovering at her partners’ back, and the younger shot her a smile. Your heart warmed at the clear affection, your eyes moved on. At a table across from them sat a tired student, textbooks, laptop, and the use of the outlet signaled their hasty work. The poor kid looked ready to fall asleep, but as they kept nodding off they jolted awake and then went back to frantic typing. You grimaced, remembering those days in your 20s. 

You did a final look about the room, eyes scanning the corners, assessing the structure of the room, and catching the shadows in the more closed corner. Then a glint. You pulled yourself up, a clink of glasses as the bartender busied himself prepping you a drink. A smile curled up on your face, you were a little startled but you had caught your watcher, you sent the figure a nod.

Hidden in a far-cornered table sat a man in all black, the only signal that he was there at all was the skull printed on his balaclava. Your training crept up your spine when you first clocked him, but the surroundings and atmosphere told you that somehow he wasn’t a threat. And with his position, you felt that, in a funny way, he just fit in, every old place like this had a skeleton in the closet.

The bartender finally turned back to you and noticing your raised eyebrow turned to the silent corner. You crack a smile:

“Got a skeleton in your closet?”

This catches the man off guard, then he lets out a loud bellowing laugh. He has to set the glass down to brace himself on the bar. His laughter catches the patrons' eyes, but they turn back to their actions. It’s infectious and with your energy (and frankly slight delirium after a long flight) you begin to giggle. You lock your legs on the stool to balance yourself, a glint in your eye lighting up. The bartender catches his breath and then asks you what you were drinking.

“A rum and coke please,” you move to pull out payment and the man waves you off.

“You are the first person to notice him, this is on the house. Don’t mind the man he is a good customer and a good patron.” 

He makes your drink and doesn’t offer any more information, and you don’t push. If a man in a mask is in a place like this chilling in the dark corner like Batman at, you glance at your watch, 1 something in the morning you respect his dedication.

The next two hours are spent with two drinks and a long conversation. He busies himself as the other patrons leave, the men getting rides and the student finishing with a sigh of relief. As the women pass hand in hand you and the bartender both smile. He asks what life is like in the states, where you went to school, and how the force was. You stay within nonclassified limits of course but you spin him (slightly) exaggerated tales. Sometimes he turns around to reorganize things and in these moments you feel eyes on the side of your head. 

The resident skeleton is apparently nursing a glass, the amber liquid catching the light, but it is his eyes you catch as the light shifts. Umber eyes glint through a mix of eye black and pale skin. You hold his eyes, back straightening naturally under his observation. You wonder if he was military, seeing his position and the mask. As the bartender returns to you, you nod and raise your glass in a toast and offer. He makes no movement so you shrug and turn back to the bartender with an easy and engaged smile, behind your back Simon’s head tilts in consideration.

3 o’clock comes with a slight warmth in your veins, you pull your arms over your head in a stretch as tiredness finally catches up to you. Your conversation had turned from your experience to why you were here. And you offer the best reply you could while maintaining some secrecy.

“My service mom basically sent me over to be babysat.” 

The bartender raises a brow but doesn’t push, instead, he offers an amused grin while glancing at your face and the clock. You get his idea and nod,

“I’m staying close just…” you still and turn, the man pauses in his approach a foot or two from you. He seems a little surprised to be caught but makes no movement, he then recovers and approaches the stool next to you. He looks down at you with a silent question.

“Be my guest.” You smile warmly, his actions were a bit endearing, it reminded you of your friend’s german shepherd. As a puppy, the dog would stalk your friend, and the moment she broke the stare the dog would pounce. 

The man sits with a tight figure, he is covered except for, as you see now, his hands. They are rough with scars and calluses and the glint of a chain around his neck with dog tags under his shirt answers your earlier assumptions. He is bulky, well-tuned, and muscled for combat, and you find yourself happy you don’t have to see his bad side. His eyes turn to yours under your observation, brown eyes bright and aware despite the skull and the silence of his figure. His eyes trace your form, then after passing over your belongings, they focus on the impression of your hidden dog tags. He tilts his head.

“American, sir, if the accent didn’t already give it away.”

You offer it up then turn back to your drink. The bartender watches a little baffled, then watches Simon, an unlikely patron for a long while. He didn’t know the man that well, but he came to be able to read the man, especially with his other unit members came in. The men in hats liked beer and cigars while the Scot was a loud but grand time. Simon gives you a long look, evaluating, and then…

A glint of glass hits your peripheral vision, and a pale hand of a reaper raises his glass. You turn, blinking down then up at him, he lifts his head, and you smile. You raise your glass to clink lightly against his and, turning to clean the counter the bartender smiles. He heads to the other end, cleaning and sorting glasses and utensils. Simon watches him leave then turns back to you. You watch him with an amused grin, shoulders looser, and general air happy. 

“Where are you staying?” his voice for some reason doesn’t surprise you as it comes out more like a grumble than anything else. 

You raise a brow, while the man in front of you was, interesting, you didn’t feel unsafe. You went with your gut, 

“There’s a small inn a few blocks down, Captain booked me a room.”

This caught Simon’s attention, he had a hunch. 

“I know it. I’m in for a few days,” he watches you stifle a yawn, “walk you?”

The offer surprises you, but you finish your drink as the bartender returns. You consider it and give him a nod. 

“Sure...?”

“Simon, Simon Riley.” His name is firm and your lips quirk, you offer your name in reply. It confirms his suspicion and as you gather your stuff Simon takes your carry-on for you. 

He had been surprised when you noticed him, but listening in on your stories and your easy nature, even around him, had caught his interest. And as he opened the door for you and gave a nod to the barkeep a small grin rose under his mask. 

---

Simon had actually offered good company, the walk had led to a good conversation. In the following days before your meeting you had been offered an outing for tea and groceries by the man, he had shown you the area. And the night you had gone to the pub to meet with your captain’s friend you found Simon sitting with what you would find out was the 141.

You had locked eyes, chuckled, and then offered “what is this, army recruitment?”

The following amused grin on Captain John Price’s face and the baffled expressions on the others' faces cemented your character. You approached the table steadily and introduced yourself with an induced American drawl. Soap grinned at you, welcoming you with a drink instantly. Gaz looked between you and a grinning Price:

“This is the new recruit? They look like they are on vacation.”

“I was, apparently ‘mom’ was loaning me out, good to know the Captain hates me.”

 Price’s voice was warm and well-humored,

“Aye, consider it a promotion, right Lieutenant?”

Simon’s brow raised under the mask and he turned to regard you. There was a familiar calm, then a quick flash of something. You took it as a good sign and dropped into the seat next to him, and the rest became history.

---

The white of the skull shell comforted you with its seriousness. While you loved the man asleep in your lap with all your heart, you did not shy away from Ghost. He had risen up from the darkness that lingered around Simon and was a shield against the world. And yet, as he fell further and further in with the 141, parts of Simon shone through. 

You press the mask against your heart in a silent thanks, a bit goofy but you were sentimental. Eyes closed, you took in the residual smell of cologne, sweat, and gunpowder. At this point in your life, so deep within the arms of war, even while at peace the smells settled your soul. In the darkness behind your eyes, an easy light shone through as long arms wrapped themselves around your stomach.

The rain outside pelted coldly, but warmth simmered in your heart. Brown eyes sat closed but Simon hummed, hands traveling. You chucked down at him, still grasping his shadow in your hands, hesitant to disconnect the two in your mind as it was indeed Ghost you had loved first before the unmasked man beneath you.

The ink of his tattoos danced in the street lights from the window, a flash of lightning, Simon lifts up from your grasp, pulling his arms to his chest. You fear for a moment but stifle a giggle when he just flips his long body over to his stomach to settle further into your lap like a cat. He lays for a moment before propping himself up with an elbow, his face turning up to you.

Eyes linger over you, his mouth tugging up, you wore one of his shirts, the buttons at the collar, it is loose and showing your collarbone, and a silver chain. His eyes travel down, then they catch his infamous mask. His voice rumbles out, somehow even lower from sleep, and it sends a tingle up your spine.

“What are you doing Love?”

His sleep-husked voice asks. You don't answer. Instead, you pull a hand from the mask to caress your lover's face. Scars are raised on the smooth skin under your fingers. His stubble is rough and he leans into your hand like a cat. You trace up, thumbing a cut on his brow, then hitting his hair he drops back down into your lap. You can’t stop the smirk, his head turns on the pillow looking out into the room, refusing to acknowledge your smug smile as he leans into the pillow. This man was a cat. You run your hand actively through his growing-out hair.

“You can’t escape the question.”

“I’m not baby. I was just admiring an old friend.” You huff a laugh as his arms can now easily circle your waist.

He mumbles incoherently into the pillow as he embraces you like a tired toddler. 

“What, Ghost is really cool, you know a friend tells me he’s really hot under all that gear,” you pause a moment thinking, “actually leave the gear on.”

Simon groans, now fully awake, he pulls back and pushes himself up further. In a short sleeve shirt, you can greatly admire his arms as he moves his long legs around shifting to sit so that he is mirroring you. He now sits crisscrossed in front of you.

“Sleepover?” 

He gives you a pointed look. You grin.

“Love, we won’t be sleeping if you keep being cheeky…” it rumbles out and he reaches a hand towards you. You hug his mask tighter, head shaking and pulling back from him.

“Nope.”

A blond brow shoots up. Simon sits straighter then he sees you glance down at the mask holding it to better examine it. The heartfelt smile on your face makes him freeze.

---

You had been shot. Gunfire finally fizzled out as the team got the hell out of dodge with the intel. You laughed wetly, hot tears of pain blinding your sight into a fuzzy haze. A mohawk passed and you reached a hand up. Soap’s voice filtered in and out of coherency.

“Shit, hang in ther…”

Firm hands pressed to your side and your face as Gaz held pressure to the wound, his dark skin a reprieve from the white lights of the burning sun. A hat presses on your head, your eyes search.

“Hold on to this kid, I expect it back.”

Price covers your eyes from the sun with his hat as Ghost drives as fast as he physically can without jostling you. You had made it back, rushing into the truck as fire rained down from above. What was supposed to be an empty compound was filled with enemies and shoddy intel. Soap and Gaz had been on the other side of the compound and had bested you by a lucky minute. You all heard the echo of a rifle before the blood seeped out from under your gear, you froze and then crumpled forward. It was Soap who had yanked you into the truck and Ghost had taken off like a bat out of hell.

“Shit, Ghost careful!” in his panic, Soap’s accent thickened as he cupped the back of your head, Price’s hat tilted, threatening to tumble. You gasped out a hard breath, in your delirium you tried to reach to fix it, but your hands lay still, limply splayed out. Soap caught the movement and his heart broke, his jaw clenched and he gently moved your shoulders and head down further into his lap. He tilted the hat better on your head, hand shaking when you smiled hazily, 

“Thank you Soapy…” the words tumbled out with a shaky giggle.

"Spitz" the deep voice cut through your delirium for a moment, you pulled your legs up trying to shift. Gaz curses,

"Keep 'em still Johnny!" 

"Hey L.T.," your voice cracks, "you think Cap will take me back? Like a trade in…" you give a chuckle. 

Technically you were on 'loan' as your captain had told Price. Well extended loan, as you never officially 'joined'.

Simon, under Ghost, clenched the wheel tighter as the truck crested a hill. Price remained grimly silent, having already called for medical evac, the safe house was 30 minutes out, Simon drove faster.

“Ghost?” your questioning tone squeeze his heart.

“We are not returning you Spitz.” Hearing Soap’s nickname for you from your commanding officer made you giggle.

“You sound funny.” 

Gaz did his best to staunch the bleeding at your abdomen, 

“Shit, Captain we need to hurry!” 

You suddenly jerked at the pressure, hand lunging for Soap’s arm. Your eyes dull a little and your voice breaks, 

“I’m scared Johnny.”

Price spins around at this, eyes shooting from the road, he leans over the back seat. 

Your eyes dip and Soap starts shaking your cradled head.

“Hey, hey, look at me!” You can barely understand him through the ringing of your ears and your haze.

You can make out the sounds of a chopper and the truck skidding to a stop, but warmth has embraced your mind as shadows start to take you. Doors slam open with a crash. You close your eyes, then a jab, and awareness fights through.

“Fucking hell, you are not fucking dying on me!”

Your eyes shoot open, a flash of clarity, then the rush of searing pain. You almost scream but instead bite down on leather.

“You are going take your tongue off! It’s ok I’m here!” The reaper stands over you.

Actually, now your limp form is in the air.

Ghost has you in his arms rushing to the chopper, unseen the others follow, truck abandoned. But the face of death stares down at you. The injection wakes your body but your mind still drifts and your eyes unfocus on anything but the skull plate and deep brown eyes. 

You reach a hand up, bumping then finally finding purchase on the mask. His breath comes out jagged with hidden emotion as he runs effortlessly with you. Eyes turn back up and you whine at the loss of his face, he lunges up into the helicopter.

“You will be fine Spitz,” Ghost mutters as the others jump in and slide the door shut. The bird takes off and Price is yelling directions while Soap and Gaz pace, but…

Ghost is a wall off from the chaos as he holds you, the medic rushes him, a light in your eyes, testing fingers. Ghost lowers you to the floor, Soap rushes through Gaz’s call. Price’s hat tumbles off, and Soap braces his hands under your head as Ghost sets you down. 

Blackness finally catches you but you latch on, mentally and physically, to the reaper’s face. Ghost just kneels closer, listless for a second as you pull him closer by his head. His arms brace on the sides of your head, careful not to hit you. His shoulders, padded in black, block you from view as the medic rushes for supplies. Soap is the only witness as Price holds Gaz back from crowding you.

The skull with surprised human eyes is a breath away from your face, but you don’t register Simon at this point. You weakly caress the skull, and Simon's breath stutters.

“You’re…not scary” you giggle haggardly and Soap has to clench his jaw and turn away. But Simon is caught in your grasp, watching you pass into shadows, but yet, your eyes then see his. 

“hi.” it comes out breathy as your heart slows. The medic returns and on the other side of your body he cuts through your gear. You don’t feel anything but blissful warmth from here. 

You pull Simon's head even closer, his mask plate knocking into his forehead as your eyes engulf his.

“You’re no-t scary Ghosty,” you press your lips to his masked cheek then pass out, head going limp in Soaps hands with a ghastly smile on your face. 

Simon freezes and then is yanked back by Gaz and Price as the medic tears through your vest to resuscitate, Soap is cradling your limp head with tears streaming down his face.

The time passes as a blur as Simon dissociates and Ghost takes over, keeping vigil.

---

Six days later you awaken back on base, hooked up to an IV. You pull the breathing tube out just as Soap wakes up and starts burning you alive with Scottish slang. His voice is rough with tears as you watch him like a deer caught in the headlights. Gaz pokes his head in with a brightening smile as you start cursing at Soap in return. 

Price’s hat hovers over your head as he corrals both of you with stern, but relieved eyes. You grasp for his hat with an excited squeal. Under heavy meds, you are slightly fuzzy but aware of those in the room. You make gimme gimme hands and it lands in your lap. Soap bites a shaky smile head turning to clear his tears.

Your mind buzzes, even in your hazy state, Bandages wrap your sides like gloves and the air is stately and chill through the hospital gown. The sheets, while warm aren’t enough. A tingle in your mind, you blink, then your eyes automatically turn towards the door. 

Silver dog tags on black glint, but your eyes capture your reaper. You try to shift up but Soap moves forward:

“Ey no ye don’t.” You don’t turn to him but try to pass him Price’s hat in a bribe. Gaz sees it and loses it, wheezing into a strained crying laugh as he falls back into a chair. Well-meaning and previously collected, it's Gaz who is emotionally snapping. Relief tears its way through him as his hands clenched together and he rests his forehead on them, his shoulders shaking silently. Seeing you ok finally lets his calm, masked exterior release break. Your eyes dip towards Kyle and Ghost enters. The Lieutenant passes Gaz, hand in a fist knocking his shoulder in a calming moment. Umber eyes shoot up to Soap, the Scot nods and he takes the hat with a murmur of thanks to you. You watch head cocking as Soap takes Gaz and the two head into the hallway. Now hatless, you turn towards Price, medicine pulling a little on your mind.

“If you call me Dad kid I am making you run laps.”

Price chuckles fondly as your eyes go wide then you squint at him. Ghost approaches the other side of your bed and Simon stares down at you as you lock eyes with Price. His hatless hair is ruffled and he looks tired. You reach a grabby hand out, both weighted by medicine but also as a joke. Price raises a brow but it’s not his hand that takes yours. A black-coated arm reaches across your lap and takes your hand. Your head tilts, confused for a moment, then it turns to stare at the reaper. A black shape engulfs your vision. His infamous black jacket is laid over you. It smells of gunpowder and him, you realize as a doopy smile extends over your face. You run your free hand over it, Price smiles unseen and leaves the room, shutting the door softly. 

You attempt to move your grasped hand but find it locked in place. Your eyes trace up, your Lieutenant is wearing a hoodie and is gearless, blue jeans free of his ‘casual’ holster. You lean over the side of the bed looking. He’s not in boots. You hum, mind vibrating at you for some reason. You move back and another hand moves to your shoulder, helping you gently lean back into the pillows.

“Easy.”

The voice is rough, emotion filtering in. Your eyes trace up his arm, over broad shoulders, and at his exposed dog tags, you want to reach up and grab them but suddenly his arms are gone. A frown starts to creep up on your face before gloveless hands engulf the sides of your face and neck and your head is quickly, but carefully, pressed to his chest. You blink before your arms raise naturally to wrap around his body as he awkwardly leans over. His chest is steady, but his heart beats sporadically, trying to calm itself. Simon lowers his head onto yours just holding you. You both remain this way, medicine pulls at your conscious but your heart fights it, cherishing the moment.

You pat his back and he hesitantly pulls black, but his hands remain resting on you, guarding. Brown eyes swim with emotion as his eye black is streaked. There is redness to his eyes and his brows are taunt with stress, but he still wears his combat mask but the plate is clean. His hand leaves you and reaches for the mask, offering. You grab his hand, your head cocked in question.

You shake your head, exhaling softly out your nose with a warm heart. He freezes, and Ghost finally steps back. He leans up, breathing deeply as you watch with a growing smile when you see the weight of panic and sorrow leave him. His shoulders drop and his fingers that are still on your arm rub circles. Then Simon steps forward, some shadow in his mind warming and settling into his soul. 

His free hand lingers, fingers flexing. His eyes skim over you, the black of his jacket staining the white gown and sheets. His eyes scan your collarbone, your breathing steady and at peace, then they meet your face.

Your lips are smiling, dry but quirked. Up to your eyes. They shimmer as you are now aware of his presence and are appreciative. But a spark. In your mind the medicine now just makes you sleepy, body finally awake with your mind, even if for a moment. You are content with the shadow’s presence, completely comfortable with Ghost before you.

This fact finally, for the first real time, settles in Simon’s mind as he blinks. He wants to laugh, his heart racing. You notice the change and a hand comes up and caresses the mask. He stares at you, mind blanking.

A second, your mouth opens to question him.

“Are you ok?”

Nothing.

Your head cocks, smile slipping, then freezing at his eyes. 

Simon just stares down, then his hands shoot up. He tears off the mask. You go to close your eyes but warm hands grasp your face, they plead with you and you open your eyes.

Simon bears his soul to you, pale face littered with scars. But you only watch his eyes as they begin to water, the mask of Ghost sits discarded in your lap as his shadow melts and Simon begins. Both are mingled into one conflicted being.

And your fingers caress both as you frown, unbothered by the being before you, your hand goes to wipe a tear but Simon ducks further and presses his lips into yours. 

---

Simon blinks back and his hands take your face. Your eyes shoot up with a hum and you set the mask down.

“Jealous?” You ask cheekily.

“I love you.” His voice is solid, Ghost’s unbreaking and promising, and Simon’s deep with emotion. You sense the weight of the moment and you smile calmly,

“I love you too.” You reply.

[demxters]

can i get a christmas with rooster hc 💗

congrats again my love!

a/n: ty anna!! also first time writing for rooster, but i love him nonetheless (after this i am also not opposed to writing more him hehe)

tw: mentions of death [carole/goose :((], one mention of having kids

A Very Bradshaw Christmas with Rooster would include...

*gif credit @pohjanneito

bradley 'rooster' bradshaw aka mr. christmas

when i tell you he is the most festive person known to man, i mean it

bradley 1000% pulls out the christmas decorations the second thanksgiving is over

in fact, it becomes tradition for the two of you to stay up until midnight after thanksgiving dinner to decorate your place for christmas

in the beginning, you thought it was quite silly, how seriously he took the holidays

it wasn't until after spending a few christmases with him that he opened up to you about it

"some of my best memories are from the holidays... it's when i remember my family at their happiest."

while decorating that night, you begged him to share his favorite moments with you

the far off look in his eyes and the fond smile on his lips made it clear that he missed his family more than he let on

so this christmas, you planned to make it as memorable for him as you possibly can

"my dad and i would sit at the piano and sing christmas songs for my mom while she prepared dinner. he would put on quite the show even if it was just us three at home."

you had arranged a little christmas sing along in honor of nick bradshaw

you invited the dagger squad out that night and printed out some sheet music of rooster's favorite christmas songs and gave it to penny to place on the piano

when the two of you arrived the hard deck you dragged him straight to the piano where the rest of his friends were already gathered

you sat at the piano bench and patted the seat beside you as you beckoned him over

"sing me a song, sailor," you teased

always for the dramatics, he let out an over exaggerated sigh before taking a seat next to you while his friends all hollered

bradley's eyes danced over the sheet music for "sleigh ride", quizzically, but he played it anyway

after the first song was over, you flipped through the pages and pulled out "christmas (baby please come home)" which was carole bradshaw's favorite

being as smart as he was, rooster immediately realized what you were doing and you swear you have never seen his eyes shine so bright

he played through the songs with ease and was a little sad once it was over though he didn't mind that you had shifted into his lap at the end of the night

"has anyone told you that you have the voice of an angel?" you muttered in your sleepy daze

"i've been told that i sound more like a chicken."

"well, whoever told you that is wrong because you're an angel. my angel."

if you had been wide awake you would've been able to see the tips of his ears turn red at your words

"i used to help my mom make her special gingerbread cookies. she promised to tell me her secret recipe when i started a family of my own. i never thought she'd wouldn't be here to see it."

the week leading up to christmas, you told bradley you were out gift shopping when you were really at penny benjamin's every afternoon

you asked mav if he knew about carole's gingerbread cookies, which made him light up like a child

he told you carole gave him a box every year

he unfortunately had no idea how to make them, but he did offer to help you replicate the recipe as best as he could

it's how you found yourself surrounded by twenty batches of cookies in penny's kitchen

"i think batch three tasted closer than batch seventeen."

"which one was batch three again?"

in the end, you settled on batch fourteen

maverick's wavering confidence didn't help soothe your nerves, but he swore up and down that the cookies tasted almost exactly like hers

when you finally made them for bradley, you burst into tears

"i think they need some more sugar, hun."

"so they don't taste like your mother's?"

"were they supposed to?"

he realizes his wrong choice of words when hot and heavy tears started to stream down your face

you practically crumbled to your knees then causing bradley to fall onto the floor and scoop you up into his arms

he cradles your head into the crook of his neck and whispers soft apologies into your ear

"no, i'm sorry. i knew i shouldn't have trusted mav when he said 2 cups of salt. i'm sorry they're not your mom's."

"honey, they may not taste like mom's but they're yours. and sure maybe they are a little salty, but i love them anyway because you made them."

"you sure?"

"promise. though i hope you don't mind if i give the rest of these to hangman. tomorrow how about we try to recreate them together, yeah? i think my sense of taste might be a bit better than mav's."

"and when it was finally christmas, we would get together with all of our family and friend's to exchange gifts."

the festivities of the night had finally died down with amelia knocked out on the floor while penny and maverick were cuddled up on your sofa sifting through the gifts you gave them

you and bradley were in the kitchen, cleaning up the rest of the dinner dishes

"hey honey, can i ask you something?"

"hmm?"

"did you try to replicate my family's christmas traditions?"

he must have seen the way your face immediately fell because he's dropping the dishes back in the sink and running to your side

"i just wanted to do something special for you. i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable or sad i just thought you'd like it. i'm sorry if i crossed a line, i won't do it again."

he's cupping your face, bringing your gaze to meet his

"i did like it, hell i loved it. i was just thinking, what if we started our own family traditions? new ones?"

he gets down on one knee and the gasp you let out is so loud that penny and maverick are rushing over

"i already had a ring picked out and everything, but i can't wait anymore. i can't believe you did all of that for me. when it hit me, i realized i want to spend all my christmases with you. i want to make new bradshaw traditions with you and our own family. will you marry me?"

you crash into him, almost sending him onto the floor

he catches you with ease and you press your lips to his

when you pull away, you press more to every inch of his face, muttering an excited "yes!" in between each one

"bradley bradshaw, i will marry you."

penny and maverick gather the two of you in their arms, fawning over and congratulating you both

amelia pouts when she hears bradley completely ditched their plan and spontaneously proposed (she was still happy for you, nevertheless)

you and bradley spend every christmas after creating new traditions, eventually passing them on to children of your own

[somedayonbroadway]

You’ve already done something similar but “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”

I’ll Be Home For Christmas is quite possibly the only Christmas song that makes me cry and I was getting a bit emotional while I wrote this. Let me know if you wanna see a bit more of this story! I had fun writing it.

Once upon a time, Christmas Eve was Jack’s favorite night of the year. He’d be the first to admit that his childhood hadn’t exactly been something to brag about. Addicted mother, abusive stepdad, dead brother, the whole nine yards. But Christmas Eve had always washed that all away when he was young. His mother would pretend that they were a whole, normal, loving family. She would tell Jack to open up one gift on Christmas Eve and then they would decorate cookies for Santa Claus, hoping that this would be the year he might come.

It didn’t matter that deep down, Jack had always known there would be no more gifts for him beneath the sad, dead Christmas tree. He could at least dream that night that things could turn out different.

When he held his child in his arms for the first time at fifteen years old, he vowed he’d never disappoint the kid on that Christmas morning. He’d spoil the boy rotten, he didn’t care if he had to hold down three jobs to do just that.

And now here he was, looking down over a city that he hated, on Christmas Eve, wondering where everything had gone so wrong. Maybe it started when he’d knocked up some girl he hadn’t even known the name of at first. Maybe it was when he’d promised to marry her even though they made each other miserable. Maybe it was when he’d told his son that he would never ever lie to him. Maybe it was when he had started kissing other people behind their apartment building. Maybe it was when he’d decided he wasn’t happy and quit his job without telling his wife or maybe it was when his ten year old son found him with a lawyer he’d met at a coffee shop.

The divorce had been brutal. Jack lost just about everything he had. None of it would’ve hurt so much. Things were just things. But his son… his son was too much for him to lose.

When the judge made his final decision, they’d gone out to find him, but Tyler James Kelly was nowhere to be found. Eleven years old and gone in New York.

Just thinking about it made Jack shed a few more tears for his baby boy. His little Racer. He remembered setting Tyler on his lap while he opened up a new set of pajamas every Christmas Eve. He remembered dressing the boy for bed and watching him fall asleep before he set out gifts beneath the tree. He remembered watching the wonder in the boy’s eyes as he rushed towards those gifts and he remembered holding the boy tightly as they danced around to cheesy Christmas music.

Jack used to go all out for Christmas. He used to get a tree and lights and pillows. Now he was in an empty apartment, up on the tenth floor. The ceiling was leaking and the lights didn’t turn on. Jack had a few candles lit but he was sitting in a crummy chair, watching the snowfall outside. He could see some families through the windows, eating Christmas Eve dinner and laughing, dancing, and listening to music. He bit his lip as his mind involuntarily thought about the possibilities.

The police told Jack four years ago that the probability of Tyler surviving out on the streets alone wasn’t high. He wondered if his baby was already gone. He could picture him in his head, curled up, purple and blue with no one to hold him. He wondered if he was still out there, all alone, scared, wondering if someone would come to find him. He went over it in his head every night. His therapist told him to let go, to come to terms with the fact that Tyler James was gone.

It was the most ludicrous thing Jack had ever heard. He’d stormed out of that session faster than he’d left anything else before. Sometimes he tried to imagine that his son had found a new place to stay, somewhere warm with lots of food and a bed for him to sleep in. Sometimes he wished that if he couldn’t look after his son, that someone else would.

The boy would be fifteen now. Just as old as Jack had been when he’d held him for the very first time.

When Jack’s phone rang, he was snapped out of his thoughts. He needed a distraction, anything to make these images in his head stop. “Hello?” he answered in a hushed voice. He was sure if he talked any louder, his voice would break. Not that it mattered, as he was expecting a machine.

What he got instead, was a young voice. “H-hi,” the voice said. “I-I’m with… um… I’m with the news. I’m calling to take a survey if you have a few minutes?”

With a small scoff. “You’re with ‘the news’?” Jack challenged. “You sure?” His Brooklyn accent was thick. He cleared his throat to try and get rid of it.

“N-no— listen, will you take the survey or not?” the kid asked.

With a small sigh, Jack nodded. “Sure, I will take a survey. What do you want first? My bank information or my social security number?” he teased.

A small laugh came through the speaker. “I mean, your bank information would be wonderful, but we can start easier maybe? Like… like, do you celebrate Christmas?”

Once again, looking over the city, Jack bit his lip. “I did…” he admitted.

“Okay, and when do you start celebrating during the year?” the person asked.

Swallowing hard, Jack answered, “Normally the day after Thanksgiving.”

The boy hummed in response. “Oh, me too! What a coincidence!” It sounded sarcastic, so Jack squinted a bit. “What is your favorite Christmas tradition?”

Jack shook his head. This wasn’t helping. “Look, kid, I don’t have time for prank calls, okay—?”

“Wait! Wait, just one more question! One more question,” the boy insisted quickly. Jack sniffled and waited. “C-can I come home?”

The whole world seemed to stop spinning at that question because Jack didn’t understand what was happening. He stood up and looked around, wondering if he was dreaming. “What?” he whispered.

The person on the other end of the line sniffled and let out a shaky breath like he was trying not to cry. “Daddy… Can I come home?”

Jack stopped breathing for a long moment because he knew he had to be dreaming. He shook his head, trying to snap out of it but he couldn’t quite get over the shock. “T-Tyler?” he whispered. Something in his chest pinged with pain when he thought about this being some random trick, some prank where the people on the other end didn’t know any better. But he couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down his face at the mere idea that any of this was real.

A knock came at his door and Jack jumped at the noise, dropping his phone out of instinct. He looked out the window and then back to the door, hesitantly opening it.

There stood a beautiful blond boy outside the door with these crystal blue eyes that tore Jack’s heart in half. He was wearing sweatpants and a few sweaters, his gloves torn through at the fingers. “H-hi, Dad,” the boy breathed.

Jack’s mouth hung open in terror and relief. He took a small step to the boy and shakily brought his hands up to the child’s hair, grasping it in his hands and running thumbs over the kid's face to make sure he was real. “Tyler?” he breathed again. The boy grabbed one of Jack’s wrists and held it gently, moving it so he could kiss Jack’s palm. His nose was freezing. Jack shook his head. “I-I d-don’t care if I’m dreamin’, just don’ lemme wake up,” he begged. “Tyler James?”

The boy finally looked up at him. “A-actually… I go by Anthony now. Anthony Higgins…” There was no doubt in Jack’s head. This was his child. This was his Tyler James. It only took a moment for Race to slouch forward a bit and rush into his dad’s chest, hugging him tightly, not only to reassure him, but for warmth. Jack almost lost his footing at the impact, but he gripped at the child, closing his eyes and letting this happen, letting himself believe that this could be real. “Y-you still give the best hugs,” Race whimpered. “I tell everyone that my dad gives the best hugs, ya know?”

Jack didn’t even think of letting go. Anger tried to build up inside of him but the worry shoved it aside, the astonishment subdued it and the love that he held for this boy killed it completely. “Is this real?”

The boy in his arms sniffled and pulled away enough to look up at Jack. “I really hope so,” he muttered. “I can’t keep doin’ this… it’s so stupid—!”

Jack shook his head, taking his son’s cheeks between his hands. “Hey, monkey,” he whispered. “What? What happened? Where did you go?” he nearly sobbed. “Why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you call me to come get you sooner? Why did you leave me like that?”

The boy sniffled. “Can you please just hold me?” he whispered.

The request was so small that Jack had no choice but to abide. He hugged his son tightly in his arms. The boy was freezing. “Daddy’s got you,” he promised quietly. “I’m right here…”

The boy all but clung to him. Jack just closed the door behind him and scooped the boy up, carrying him to the couch and rocking him back and forth, letting tears stream down his face as he wrapped a blanket around the child’s shoulders. The kid was freezing. So Jack cuddled up close to him, trying to warm him up. Race giggled a little bit, but they were watery laughs.

He was terrified to ask where Race had been for these past few years. So he didn’t. He just held him, not understanding what had just happened.

And Race just closed his eyes and fell asleep in his dad’s arms, like everything was normal. Nothing was. Nothing was normal, nothing was familiar anymore. But Jack wouldn’t give up this moment. Not for anything.

[casspurrjoybell-26]

May to December - Chapter 28 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Marry Me

It was in the middle of a light drizzle of snow that a black Jeep parked in front of the small bungalow house.      

Otis started to bounce up and down as he held on to Chaska's hand on the porch.  

"Mummy," he said in a giddy voice when a lean woman stepped out of the car and shut the door behind her.

She was wearing sunglasses and her brown hair was tucked under a hat.      

She was lean and even though she was wearing a coat that swallowed her figure she still looked stylish.

Beautiful.  

She made even Chaska's heart skip a beat.      

"Otis," she said, looking over at the porch.

"My baby boy," she said and Chaska let go of the boy's hand, letting him go down the stairs before making a wiggle run for his mother.    

The woman lifted him up and smacked a kiss on each side of his cheek before hugging him to herself.

She swayed from side to side with him, before stopping and looking back to the porch.

Kyle and his mother had come out to the porch too.  

"Hello," Anastasia greeted, walking over to the house before climbing up the stairs to the porch.      

"It's nice to see you again," she said in a soft voice as she looked at Kyle.

Her gaze moved to Chaska and her brown eyes lingered on the younger man until a light bulb lit up in her head.

"You must be Chaska," she said, making the man nod.

He was a bit taken aback.

He had expected her to maybe say something snarky but she seemed so friendly.  

"Ma'am," she said, turning her attention to Kyle's mum.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said with a grin, holding on to Otis with one hand before reaching out her other hand to shake Kyle's mother's hand with.    

The two women bickered with each other for a while.

Kyle went up to Anastasia to take the young boy before he and Chaska made their way back into the house.    

"She seems nice," Chaska muttered when they both took a seat on the couch.

"She's also very pretty."  

"She's great," Kyle said.

"But not as great as you," he added, reaching out to pinch Chaska's cheek.

The dark-haired man chuckled, swatting Kyle's hand away before staring towards the front door.      

Meeting Anastasia hadn't been as worried as his anxiety had made him fear.

The house was sparsely decorated but there was a small decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the sitting room so that Kyle could continue the Santa myth for Otis.

At first, he didn't want to do it but Chaska insisted that letting kids in on celebrations and events like this to the fullest was good for their imagination and hope.  

They both had not been sure what to get him but they settled on a rocking horse since he had enjoyed the farm ponies so much.

Kyle's mother had knitted her grandson a sweater and Kyle and Chaska were too busy thinking about moving to get anything for each other.  

Being together through the year was enough of a present.  

"This is such a cute place."

The two men looked up when Anastasia's voice filled the room.

She had just gotten in with Kyle's mother and was now making her way to the dining table to grab a seat.      

"It's nice to see where you tee up Kyle," she said as Otis left the man's lap and wandered off to his mother, showing him a toy that Chaska had bought for him about a month ago.      

Looking at the woman when she was out in the snow hadn't given Chaska a full picture of her but now that she had taken off her coat, glasses and her hat, Chaska had a better look at her.  

She was breathtaking and that was enough to make Chaska's whirling insecurity grow.  

He wondered why Kyle would pick him over her.

The woman loved him.

She had said so herself on a phone call while Chaska listened in.

She wasn't a bad person, Kyle confirmed that, Chaska just didn't understand it but he kept his feelings to himself, putting on a smile when Kyle turned and asked him if he would like to eat anything in particular.

There was turkey, rice and stir fry.

Kyle's mother had made a Christmas feast.

She had been excited about it.

She had been alone for Christmas for almost twenty years now and she was happy to finally have people to spend the holiday with.

Kyle's mother served food and let Christmas carols play on the radio as they ate.

Otis stuck close to his mum, deciding to eat whatever she had Chaska sat next to Kyle but the two didn't talk much because Chaska had retreated into his own mind, growing cold and reserved.      

"Is something wrong?" Kyle asked in a soft voice, leaning close so that the man could hear him.      

"No," Chaska muttered, forcing himself to drink from the wine glass by his lap plate so that he didn't break down in front of everyone.      

Why was he so worked up about Kyle's ex-wife?

He didn't know.

He hated himself for being so childish about it.    

"Let's do karaoke like we used to," the beautiful woman said, when an instrumental instead of a song started to play on the radio.

"We sang this together of you remember."    

No, Chaska did not remember because he was not Kyle.

So, watching as the man nodded at the woman and proceeded to talk about memories that he knew nothing of and wasn't there to experience with him made Chaska's chest squeeze up.      

Anastasia was beautiful, a good woman by Kyle's on admission and she knew Kyle longer than Chaska did.

They only ever broke up because she wanted them to.

"Come on, sing with me," the lady insisted, getting up from her seat before walking over to coax Kyle out of his.

The man got up, following her to the spot where she demanded they sing together.

Otis followed along, standing under his parents as the two broke into a Christmas carol with smiles on their faces.      

Chaska watched from his seat.

He noticed how the woman would reach out to push hair away from Kyle's face.

Kyle did something similar, helping the woman clean a bit of lipstick that had smudged at the corner of her mouth.      

Otis beneath the two of them, using his hands to hold on to both his parents sealed the deal.

Chaska couldn't take it anymore.

He got up.  

"Sorry," he said when Kyle and Anastasia stopped singing to look over at him.

"I'm going to take a break outside. The living room's too hot," he said, making up the quickest excuse he could think up.  

[irishhills]

tuesday and so slow

Amy figures out what’s different about Chris’s eyes when they are between three and four years old. She remembers thinking there was something off when they were a little younger, but it clicks a little after her fourth birthday, six months before Chris. One night, as Mom tucks her into bed, Amy decides to let her know.

“Mommy, I know what’s different between me and Chris,” she says.

“Oh, yeah?” Mom asks. “Did you figure out he’s a boy?”

“I know he’s a boy. It’s his eyes! He got brown!”

Mom looks at Amy like she wasn’t supposed to figure that out. Amy tucks her blanket up to her chin and thinks about what to say.

“My eyes are blue,” Amy says. “And your eyes are …”

“Green,” Mom says.

“And Daddy’s eyes are …”

“Blue.”

“Blue. Why does Chris have brown eyes?”

Mom looks like she’s going to throw up, right then and there. Amy tucks her blanket up to her nose now.

“He just does,” Mom says.

“But we’re twins, aren’t we?” Amy asks. “If we’re twins, how come we don’t look the same?”

“Honey, Chris is a boy.”

“Luke is a boy. We kinda look the same.”

Mom takes a deep, shaky breath and kisses Amy on top of her head. Amy doesn’t know what it is, but she knows this story isn’t over.

“We’ll talk about this more later,” Mom says. “Maybe even tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Because I have to talk to Daddy.”

Amy nods. She kisses Mom’s chin and falls asleep, dreaming of unicorns and rabbits, the stuff four-year-old Amy is made of. When she wakes up the next morning, she has “Brown-Eyed Girl” stuck in her head. She sings it to Chris as they eat their bananas and toast for breakfast.

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-di-da,” she sings. “You’re my … brown-eyed girl!”

She giggles, and Chris doesn’t even seem to know she’s singing to him (or about him). She looks around the room to see if anyone else knows what she’s doing.

“Amazing,” Dad says to Mom from across the kitchen table. “From the very same man who brought you ‘Moondance,’ it’s the worst refrain in all the world.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere,” Mom says. “How long did it take you to sell a car?”

Dad rolls his eyes and sticks his spoon in his cereal bowl like it means something. Even Amy knows that.

“Don’t push it, Ave.”

“Mommy,” Amy says. “Mommy, did you talk to Daddy?”

“Did you talk to me about what?” Dad asks.

“About Chris,” Amy says.

“Me?” Chris asks.

“Yeah. You got brown eyes.”

“I know that.”

“Yeah,” Luke interjects from grabbing orange juice from the refrigerator, “but none of the rest of us do.”

Jane, who’s not even one, gurgles on Mom’s lap like she wonders, too.

“Mommy,” Amy tries again, “why does Chris got brown eyes?”

Mom and Dad look at each other with too much on their minds. Dad throws up his hands like he’s giving in, kind of like when he gets tired of trying to string the Christmas lights around the tree.

“We knew we had to tell them some time,” Dad says.

“Tell us what?” Amy asks.

“Yeah, what’s the matter with my eyes?” Chris asks.

Mom leans over and kisses Chris on the top of his head. Amy watches, and her heart is in a strange pain she doesn’t recognize. Mom kisses all the kids all the time. It’s what good moms do, as far as Amy can see. Usually, it doesn’t bother her. But something tells her this one is different. Like Chris maybe needs this kiss more than the other kids. More than Amy.

“Sweetheart, nothing is the matter with your eyes,” Mom says. “They’re beautiful.”

“Blech!”

“Oh, honey. Boys can be beautiful, too.”

“Blech!”

Amy wishes Chris knew how easy he had it. He just has to sit there while Mom calls him beautiful. If only. Yesterday, that was her job. Yesterday, she was beautiful.

Mom says they’ll all go to lunch later today, and they’ll talk. Normally, it would make Amy happy to leave the house. Not today.

Nothing good is going to come out of that lunch.

[hinagamoizaf]

we have time together on this Earth

Fic Title : And We created you in pairs Chapter Number : 3/? Main Platform : AO3 Relationship(s) : Yamato x Hikari (Yakari) Characters : Yamato Ishida & Hikari Ishida née Yagami Mentions of Taichi, Takeru, their parents & OC children Tags : Drama, Christmas Fluff Word Count : 1970+ words This may seem unconventional for a traditional Christmas date, but it’s got a heart to it.

(Seven years prior) This was the Christmas we promised not to get each other anything.

Hikari had been distant for almost two weeks by now. Every morning when we woke up, her radiant smile would be the first thing I see, but she’d pull away before I had a chance to hug her for a few minutes before the alarm went off. On Thursday afternoons we’d drop the kids off at their grandparents while Hikari and I ran errands. She would wave them goodbye swiftly, politely decline the offer to join our parents for tea, and without a second to waste, get in the car. The radio would be off, silence in place of hums or asking each other how our day went. Her hand would be sitting quietly on her lap, and at every red light, I would reach for it. Hikari would uncharacteristically cross her arms and look out the window, as if the habits we’ve followed religiously and affectionate gestures we’ve shared were something Hikari had decided to retire overnight. I would have kept driving, if Hikari hadn’t suddenly broken down in tears. “Hikari?” an awful mixture of concern and anxiety had swallowed me as my wife helplessly sobbed into her shaking hands. I found the nearest parking lot and stopped there, waiting for anything from her. After how she’s been the past two weeks, I didn’t know if I could even place a hand on her back or draw her in for a hug. At some point Hikari gave herself a break, still flooding with tears, and all I could do was wait pathetically as she reached for my hand. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry, Yama…I’m so sorry,” was all she muttered with trembling lips. “Hikari,” I called her name again, and when she finally looked at me, I gripped her hand a bit too hard. “I just need a hug right now,” her voice was so weak and fragile, it shattered my heart. I unbuckled our seat belts and gestured to the backseat. As we climbed in, Hikari settled her head into the crook of my neck, and I held her like we were the only two living beings in that parking lot. At that moment, nothing else mattered but my wife’s soft whimpers and how I caressed her with caution. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been,Yamato,” she apologised earnestly, “I need to say sorry to the kids too.” “Don’t think about that now,” I assured her, pulling back as I firmly cupped her face and watched those eyes glisten, “Let me take care of you,Hikari.” She broke again,and this time I knew how to hold my wife. It was at this point my mind replayed every interaction we had or when I first noticed the change in Hikari’s demeanour. Had I somehow upset her? Did something happen to the kids? Was there a problem at her school? A thousand thoughts bleed into each other as I calmed Hikari,her sobs turning into uneven breathing. “I love you,” Hikari cried, “I love you,Yamato. I love you and our kids. I love our family.” “I love you too,” I kissed the crown of her head, “Our kids love you too.” I kissed her cheek and looked at her alone, “I love you so much,Hikari.” There was this battle that took place when we were teenagers,and ever since Hikari had become more sensitive to an outbreak of tears after holding in so many repressed emotions and unresolved discussions. I took it upon myself that if I were the man to marry Hikari, I’d be the one to stand beside her and come out the other side when those tears were just starting to make their move. After being married to her for a decade, I found her before these tears would dare cross her face. I just wasn’t fast enough this time around. By this point we had no intention of continuing with our errands,but we still wanted to go for a drive. We had reached our first red light in less than five minutes, I rested my hand on my thigh facing upwards. With another eight cars in front of us, Hikari slipped her fingers into mine, and I took this chance to tighten my grip and I brushed the back of her hand against my lips. Our eyes met in the mirror. “Mrs.Ishida,I’m here to ask you for your hand in going on a date with me.” “Yamato, you’re making me blush,” she managed to laugh,rubbing our thumbs together, “And yes,I’d love to go on a date with you.” Traffic starts to move as the short day retires and surrenders to the winter night. The streets are lined with soft lighting and festive decorations,and I can’t help but think about the discussion we had at the start of these two weeks. “We’re still getting presents for the kids,” Hikari says, reading my expression as I glance at the shoppers exiting a store, “And the bigger family.” “You can always change your mind,Hikari.” “Thank you,Yamato,” she looks out once more, “Thank you.” “Have you and Taichi decided yet which one of you is dressing up as Father Christmas this year?” Hikari asks, another tradition we started when we were expecting the girls. “Takeru funnily enough said he wanted to get involved.” “Oh,so he’s promoting himself from being an elf.” “Three’s a crowd, so we were thinking Taichi could be a reindeer this year.” “Was it really ‘we’?” Hikari presses on. “Takeru and I. That makes ‘we’,” I answered smugly. 

“Do you know if Taichi’s inviting them over?” I ask,my mind now glued to the upcoming 25th.

“Not this Christmas,” Hikari says while shaking her head, “The girls are catching on they’re cousins.”

“They’re your family too,Hikari,” I reason.

“They are. But at the end of the day, it's Taichi’s choice,” Hikari sighs, “And he's choosing not to invite them over for Christmas.” A buzz goes off on both of our phones,Hikari checks her one as I pull up to a cafe. “Mimi just sent a group text saying she and Daisuke can’t come home for the holidays,” she shares with furrowed eyebrows. “Aw,really? That’s unfortunate,” I say sympathetically, “So it’s just the two of them alone in New York.” “Hey,I was thinking we could do video messages and put them all together,” Hikari suggest brightly. “That’s a great idea,” I agree as I put the car into reverse. Hikari props her phone up and hits record. “Hey Daisuke. Hey Mimi,” I begin. “Yamato and I wanted to say we’re exp-” She stops, and ends the recording. “Sorry, got some jitters,” Hikari says with an unusually low laugh. “That’s okay. We can start over,” I assure her. “Hey there Daisuke and Mimi,” I greet them again. “Yamato and I are here to say we’re excited - ” By the end of the recording,Hikari waved goodbye at the camera. Except when she did so, her fingers were stretched so rigidly, it looked like she was flashing the number five instead of waving goodbye.

(Back at Yamato and Hikari’s house)

“We’ll be over in just a moment!” I say to the kids across the street,having seen Hikari and I pull up in our driveway. As I turn around, Hikari is waiting for me with a rectangular-shaped item wrapped in paper.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn't do presents this year,” I say, approaching her.

“This is an exception,” Hikari smiles nervously.

“Just how exceptional can it be,” I draw her in for a hug,then feel the shape of the gift. “Open it.” “Thank you,Ange.” With one arm around her, I use both of my hands to unwrap the paper. It felt light,and soon I realised I was holding plastic. I see white,a familiar shape…and I stop when I realise what it is. “It’s about my third one,” Hikari says, “Just a bit more,Yama.” Holding a breath, I remove the remaining paper that obscures the results.

“Think you can handle our possible next set of twins?”

“Hikari, it could be triplets, quadruplets, or even quintuplets,” I carry my wife in my arms,higher than she’s ever been, and I can feel myself smiling all the way to Christmas day.

“They're still our babies.” With the hallway light illuminating her and giving Hikari a soft glow, that nervous smile turns into tears. They’re not happy tears. “Hikari,Hikari,” I gently put her down, the most anxious I’ve been today. Then it clicks. “Hikari,” I say her dear name tenderly,wiping away her tears.

“You are without a doubt my first priority, Hikari. Our kids are my first priority.” Oh my God, I’ve been so blind. Of course she kept this to herself.

“I love my job and I love what I do, but nothing in this entire universe could compare to how much I love this family. Ever since we were in university,you have been my first priority.”

“But I held you back…right now you could be - “ Hikari’s trembling, so I cup her face.

“Right now I have you. I have our children. And we're expecting another miracle or two in nine months, “ I lean forward and press our foreheads together,caressing her cheeks.

“Nothing,nothing is going to matter to me more than what we have,Hikari.”

“We're already ten years into parenthood,” Hikari says between sniffles.

“Without a doubt, I would spend the rest of this life and what'll come in the next doing it again and again with you,” I assure her,and mean with my whole heart.

“I can't see anything topping this Christmas date.”

“Well,Mrs.Ishida, you'll be surprised what else I can do.” Just when I think she’s starting to calm down, I see Hikari’s expression fall once more.

“Yama,actually, there's another reason I've been under the weather,” she confesses.

“What is it,Hikari?” She takes a step back,looks at me, and only me in this hallway.

“I love our kids and I love being a mum,” Hikari’s eyes begin to water, “But I'm not so sure if I'm strong enough to take care of all our kids when you're away on a mission. I know that's selfish - ”

“Hikari,Hikari,” I watch her breathing escalate, “Hikari, I would never leave you alone.”

“I know you wouldn't, but I've held you - ”

I get down on one knee, gripping her left hand.

“The Sun doesn’t wake me up every morning. You do,Hikari.” I take in a deep breath, looking up at this goddess of a woman.

“For as long as we have time together on this Earth, I will be with you and our children. And if I were to be taken back first, I will wait for all of you. I will find you and we'll be reunited.” I raise her hand to my lips,pressing against it fiercely while maintaining eye contact.

“But on those nights we can’t be together, when you would have outlived me and I'm already reduced to these bones, you'll find me in our kitchen where I was so goddamn impatient and ever more so in love with you,” I move to her stomach, a kiss our growing child. I look back at my wife,melting at her feet. 

“I just had to marry you then and there with an audience of just us.” I hold onto her for as long as winter and spring have known each other.

“Even when I'm away,I will be with you. And now I am with you - ” Hikari cuts me off with a kiss,and I savour this memory in the hallway. When she pulls apart, those tears are now born out of joy and Hikari wears a smile that matches it. “We're made in pairs,right?”

[fandoms-writings]

Steel Toe Boots & Matching Pjs

A Something Domestic Drabble

Pairing: ex-military amputee!Bucky x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky spend the holidays with his sisters and their kids. 

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: a LOT of fluff

A/N: this is not beta’d, all mistakes are my own

Series Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist

Bucky remembered Christmas being his favorite holiday when he was a little boy. The presents, the snow, the decorations. The happiness that filled the house. He remembered being wired on the insane amount of sugar from the Christmas cookies that his mom let him eat all day long and running around with his sisters and their new toys. The sugar crash that came after, all of them laying on the floor, holding their presents close as they napped away the afternoon.

He hadn't had a Christmas like that in a long time. He'd spent several of them overseas. He and the guys would use what they could for a makeshift tree and they'd open the little packages sent over from their families. They would make each other little gifts, carving what were supposed to be animals out of different pieces of wood. The key words being "supposed to" - they usually ended up looking pretty mangled, but that didn't mean the act meant any less.

Then there was the accident in the Alps, where he lost his arm and gained all of his trauma. Nothing was quite the same after that. He'd found it harder to smile, to laugh, to let that joy back in when so much darkness had taken its place.

But then he met you. You pulled him from the darkness of his mind and shined a light on all that he'd been missing.

He looked over to where you were sitting by the tree with his nieces and nephews as they opened up presents with larger than life smiles. You were all in matching pajamas, an idea you had before you'd made the drive to just days before.

You were packing your bags when you froze, sending him a look before telling him you'd be back. He watched as you raced by, ran out the front door, and left in your truck, leaving him confused and slightly worried. You were back only an hour later with bags hanging from your arms and a giant grin on your face.

But you didn't let him see them until you arrived at his sister's house, pulling out little gift bags. Each bag had a different name on it and you handed them out to their respective person, urging the children to open them.

You'd managed to find the exact same Christmas pattern in every necessary size and the kids were elated to be able to match with the adults. You then told the kids how it was something you used to do with your father - you'd wear matching pjs on Christmas Eve, watch a Christmas movie before bed, and then wake up to open presents before getting ready for the day.

You all donned your new night attire before building gingerbread houses - you and Bucky shared one, making the farm house - and then settling in the living room for a movie. When the kids had fallen asleep, you helped to carry the young ones to bed while Bucky and his sisters and their husbands set up the presents under the tree. Bucky even went as far as leaving white boot tracks leading from the fireplace to the pile of gifts.

All of you then ate the pile of cookies the children left for Santa before heading to bed yourselves, needing all the rest you could get before the kids woke you in the morning.

And wake you they did.

Gleeful shouts and fits of laughter had filtered under the door into the room you and Bucky were staying in. He woke first, being able to watch you blink your eyes open and smile at him, making his heart stutter like you did every morning.

"Uncle Bucky, look!" Sarah's little voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked over to see her pushing a box his way.

"What is it?" He played coy, getting a smile out of her.

"Is a pwesent fo you!" She giggled as she pushed it to his feet.

"Oh, is it?" He peaked at the handwriting and instantly recognized it as yours. His eyes met yours. You were still sitting on the floor, but Emma had moved into your lap where she sat happily playing with a new my little pony - you were playing with her with the little stuffed Nita Bucky had picked up and hadn't had the chance to give to you until now - and Jackson had run off to show his mom the new toy truck Santa left him. You smiled and nodded, telling him it was alright to open in front of the kids and his eyes went back to Sarah.

"Will you help me open it?" He gestured to the box with his one hand, "I don't have two hands."

She giggled and nodded, climbing up to sit on the couch right next to him after he pulled it up onto his legs. Once she deemed herself in the perfect spot, she tore into the paper while Bucky held the box still. He peeked through the paper to see a particular brand staring back at him.

He looked up at you and asked, "Did you really?"

You nodded at him with a sparkle in your eye. Looking back to the box, he pulled the lid off to reveal the steel toe boots he'd shown you just weeks before. He'd wanted to pick up a pair to protect his feet when helping you out in the barn but was going to wait until after the holidays - he'd wanted to spoil the kids, which he did.

Emma moved from your lap to go show her mom the braid she'd put into her pony's hair and you stood from the floor. Walking up to his side, you leaned into his ear, "Don't worry, that's not the only present you got."

He smirked as you pulled back, "And where is this other present, hm?"

"Yeah! Where hims otter pwesent?" Sarah asked, oblivious to the reason why he didn't have it right now.

"Oh, I left it at home," You knelt down to be at her eye level, "I was so worried about all of your presents that it slipped my mind. But don't you worry, the second we get back home, he'll open it." She grinned and giggled at you.

"Otay!" She took off to go back to her own gifts and Bucky leaned over the box to you.

"Thank you, darlin'," He muttered before placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

"Of course, love," You stood fully and smirked, "But you'll like your other one much more."

With that, you winked before sauntering off to the kitchen to help with cooking dinner. He peered over the couch to watch you chatting with his sisters, making Becca sit down because she was getting close to her due date. He sighed at the warmth in his chest, knowing it was from you.

He loved his sisters and their kids, but with the promise of another present waiting for him at home, he couldn't wait to get back to the farmhouse with you.

And if the coming Christmases were like this one, it just might be his favorite holiday again.

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