#that's how i learn anything in this family

[deepdreamnights]

A shorter sum-up that may correct some of the inevitable misunderstandings from the rather loose use of the term "scrape."

A guy making low-rent audiobooks downloaded a huge chunk of AO3 content for his robots to read, in the precise same way creepypasta youtubers have been operating for years.

That's it, that's the whole deal.

Generally in AI conversations it means to harvest and process training data. Whereas here it's being used in the older, pre-AI term, of grabbing a bunch of data from an un-or-under-protected website via bot.

Which yeah, it's scummy, but it's analogue scummy, and well in keeping with a number of common copyright misconceptions. I can't tell you how many idiots I've met that thought fanworks had no IP protections because they were violations of the corporate owners' IP.

But this?

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation.

That's not how any of this works.

The OP is acting as though this is all being done through a single, automated system, and it isn't. Even the idea that this is Weitzman's AI is silly, as he's likely using off the shelf services. This scam is too petty to justify the cost of anything custom in either time or cash.

Here's what's actually going down, in all likelihood, on the pirate's side of things:

He figured out the most popular works via simple metrics and got a bog-standard website downloader go to work on it or he spent a night right-clicking.

The resulting files for the fics were loaded into word or some similar program and a macro was used to automatically fix formatting for the autoreader.

He ran each fic through an autoreader, and posted those like any other .mp3 file.

Meanwhile, he gave Chat GPT the story link and said "Summarize this and give me a cover prompt"

He takes the cover prompts and runs them in Midjourney with some standard formatting cues.

Now, what isn't happening at any stage in this process is processing the work into a dataset.

Generative AI systems do not continually harvest and incorporation information given to them by end users.

This is outside of their capabilities with a few specific exceptions ( Some AI services log user interaction for later processing into a training dataset, but that is a separate process, and Chat-GPT has features to webcrawl specific sources of "Trustworthy information" but in those cases its functioning as a search engine.) But incorporating data into the training dataset requires crunching the whole set of weights.

Even if one developed a generative AI system that could actively harvest and learn information, you wouldn't want to let it. Unfiltered junk data degrades dataset quality very quickly and is an open invitation to disruptive overfitting through users being generally repetitive. It's okay for more than half your users to generate pictures of dogs or cats playing in the clouds, but you don't want that to be half your dataset.

The situation being, the disagreeable aspects of this scenario are all forms of analogue jackassery, people have been swiping fiction off the net and turning it into shitty autoreader autobooks for long before generative AI came around.

The only difference here is the quality of the robot voice and the thumbnail art.

And as to worries about AO3's stories being scraped for AI training, well, AO3 is part of the generally indexed internet-

-the chicken is already in the nugget. ChatGPT gobbled it up ages ago, and Google and Bing had done so before that as part of their search indexing.

Now, every AO3 author who is upset is well within their rights to be so. Their work was pirated in a non-transformative way, and this guy's mistake was setting up with completed ebooks rather than hawking a "I will autoread any webpage" app.

But there is a certain irony to the real panic being that the work might have been turned into a dataset for the creation of new works when that panic comes from fanwork creators. If dataset training is theft then so are fanworks.

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

Again, please, please PLEASE reblog this post instead of the one I sent originally. All the information is here, and it's driving me nuts to see the old ones are still passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Personality Idioms

to describe your characters

All Brawn and No Brains - Refers to someone who’s strong and muscular, but not very intelligent.

Armchair Critic - People who pretend to know a lot about something, but really don’t know anything about it at all; those who sit back and criticize the way you do something without getting up and helping out. There’s a little armchair critic in all of us. Have you ever criticized an athlete’s performance (or, more likely, a ref’s call)? Or judged a dancer or singer on a reality TV show?

Born with a Silver Spoon in one’s Mouth - Means you come from a wealthy family with a high social position. The spoon you actually use these days probably isn’t a great indicator of your wealth, but in the Middle Ages, only commoners used wooden spoons. This idiom speaks more to the spoon-bearer’s personality than just their social status: Entitled, naive, presumptuous. All the qualities you’d expect of someone who wasn’t allowed to leave the palace walls.

Butter wouldn’t Melt in his/her Mouth - Describes someone who appears demure, innocent or sincere, but is actually unkind and devious. It’s saying you’re so cool and collected, that you wouldn’t even be warm enough to melt butter.

Doubting Thomas - A skeptic who refuses to believe something without personal experience or physical evidence. The idiom comes from apostle Thomas (Didymus), who did not believe Jesus had risen from the dead. He said to the other disciples: “Unless I shall see in His hands the imprint of the nails, and put my fingers into the place of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe.” While being skeptical and demanding truth are wonderful qualities to have when learning new things, constant doubters can also come off as being overly critical or looking down on others’ beliefs.

Dyed-in-the-Wool - Describes a person’s deeply ingrained political, cultural or religious beliefs. It comes from the fact that when wool is dyed before it is woven, the color is less likely to fade. In the positive sense, you could be a dyed-in-the-wool sports fan, meaning you’re faithful to your team, even when they suck. But, it can also mean you are unwilling to be open to other ideas or beliefs because of how ingrained you are in your own opinions.

Long in the Tooth - Means someone's old. This idiom likely comes from the practice of examining horses’ teeth to determine their age. It’s generally an unkind or humorous way to refer to people who do something they seem too old for.

Shrinking Violet - An exceedingly shy person. This idiom is typically assigned to girls, but who’s “Violet?” The poetic origin of this idiom was describing the flower, not a girl. Sometimes, this idiom is used as “she’s no shrinking violet,” which describes a woman who is outspoken and not afraid to express her views.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[reidrum]

santa doesn't know you like i do

note: i posted and deleted this a few days ago cuz i didn't like it but i read it again and it kinda helped with how i'm feeling rn. if the holidays are a difficult time for you i hope spencer can help a little, and i'm hugging you super tightly! merry christmas/happy holidays bffs always so grateful to have you around 🎄🫂

summary: in which the holiday blues hit you harder than you expect, and spencer is there for you

cw: angst, unspecified family trauma, hurt/comfort no hurt, indirect mentions of depression around holidays, reader is just kinda going through it

wc: 1.3k

Grief is a fickle feeling. Even more so because you’re not exactly mourning the loss of anyone, but simply a fraction of who you used to be.

There was a younger you who shined with radiance and hope, to only be dulled by the world and its harsh dealings as you grew older. It’s hard to say what you would change if given the chance for a redo, for the causation of it all acted more as a fungus growing through the roots of a tree, slowly spreading and weakening its base unknowingly, rather than an abrupt chop of an axe to the trunk.

You can’t really be blamed for how you feel—wounds will heal but memories don’t.

The snow falls gently on you as you sit on a bench in the park, the flakes dissolving onto your clothes as you gaze off at the families ice skating in the rink not too far from you. In particular, you’re watching a father hold his young daughter’s hand, she can’t be more than four years old, as they skate across the rink. You watch them smile as they both tumble down, giggling and pointing at who was the culprit. It was the daughter’s, but you watch as the father shoulders the faux blame and places her back on her skate covered feet. In the distance you see the mother holding her phone up with a fond look in her eyes as she captures the core memory.

The cognitive dissonance rings loudly within you as your heart clenches at the sight. You were loved. You are loved. There are people who love you—present tense. It doesn’t stop you from wondering how you would’ve turned out if you were loved, past tense.

Your vision gets blurry the longer you stare off. You don’t even noticing the sound of snow crunching getting louder until it stops just an inch from you, a voice speaking up a moment later, “I thought I’d find you here,”

You raise your head up to meet Spencer’s amber eyes, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets and brows furrowed in concern that peek out just below his beanie.

He sits down next to you, “It’s cold.”

You shrug mindlessly. He undoes the scarf around his neck and drapes it around you, removing his beanie to place on your head after.

After a beat you mumble, “Thanks.”

He nods again, “How long have you been here?” 

Spencer knows it had to have been some time. He came home from the office a few hours ago to your open faced phone on the mail table, the screen showing a few missed calls from your family, and your shoes missing from their place near the door. 

You’re honestly not even sure yourself, after seeing the calls your feet started to move on their own and as a form of sadistic punishment brought you to the park to watch the happy families enjoy their holidays.

“Not sure.”

Spencer is no stranger to estranged familial relationships, hell he could have another degree in it if they made them. While he understands the hesitancy you have with opening up, he’s still trying his hardest to show you that you can be vulnerable in his company, that he won’t weaponize your feelings and use them against you.

“You could’ve told me.”

“I don’t need anything.” you whisper defensively, “I can handle it by myself.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your snap. “Angel,” 

“Don’t.” you sniffle.

He sighs sadly, “I know.”

You know that he knows. For all the sorrow you’ve chalked up for yourself, Spencer could and most likely would match you. You suppose that’s why you felt drawn to each other—two birds learning to fly with clipped wings.

The colder days make the loneliness stand out more, so when it was blatantly obvious neither of you had plans for Thanksgiving the year prior, you had decided to spend it together. Unknowingly, you’d both planted the root of a beautiful friendship that turned into a loving relationship. Holiday seasons spent together turned into permanent company on birthdays and special occasions in the future, and warmth to last you for years to come.

He scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders tugging you into him, “Look at me.”

When he doesn’t see you move your eyes from the rink to him, he places two fingers on your chin and gently averts your head up, “Hi, sweet girl.”

Tears sting the backs of your eyes as you try to make your voice not wobble, “Hi.”

He smiles softly, “You know I love you, right?”

“Spencer—“

“Because I get the feeling you’re forgetting, and we can’t have that.” he talks low, “It’s important to me that you know how much I love you.”

You sigh, eyes softening. “I know.” You look back out to the rink and see that the mother has joined her family on the ice, Spencer follows your gaze there and feels his heart tighten. He knows what you want, what you’ve longed for, for too many years. It’s why you come to this bench every year during the winter. When you see what could have been, you’re only reminded of what happened to you instead.

Spencer breaks you out of your headspace. “That’ll be us one day.” he says softly.

Spencer isn’t sure if you know about the life he longs for with you. How he dreams of warm beds filled with you, getting to come home to you everyday. How one day, maybe you’ll have kids who come running into your room at five in the morning screaming about opening Christmas presents, and he’ll get to roll over and press a kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer as the kids snuggle up with you both. Maybe you’ll even take them ice skating one day.

You chuckle sadly in disbelief, “You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do,” he looks back down at you, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” he lightly jokes.

“I know.”

“I don’t think you want to.”

“I don’t think I deserve you.”

That stops him in his tracks. “Why do you say that?”

You pause, “I—I don’t know how to be loved, or how to love. Any concept of it I had is bullshit and it’s tainted and the thought of even passing that on to children—“

“Hey. Slow down.” he placates, “Sweetheart, you are worthy of love. You may not be used to it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it. If our children have even half the amount of love you have, they’ll turn out to be amazing humans. The way you love is so special.”

You stare at him in shock. Did he really say our children? You mumble, “Our children…”

He hums quizzically, “What?”

“You said our children, do you…think about that? With…me?”

“All the time,” he beams, “I think about it all with you.”

The familiar sting of tears returns, “All of it?”

“All of it,” he pulls you closer, “Marriage, kids, everything. Not to freak you out but I have the next twenty years of our lives planned.”

He finally gets a real laugh out of you, and he really couldn’t be more proud of himself. While you may just be a result of your circumstances, here is Spencer who is quite literally ready to spend decades with you recreating new memories. He wants a life with you. He wants every part of it, and he’ll happily help you through your rough patches when you need him. He is in love, you’re his best friend, and that is all he needs. You’ve never known a love like this, but Spencer will be here to show you that you will always be loved.

You hug him tightly and return your gaze back to the little girl skating with her father, The sight is no longer something you long for, but something you wait for.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

a little note: this was one of the most enjoyable headcanons i've written. if gege can't give toji a happy ending, then we will! hehe, i hope you like it! normally, sukuna was next on the list, but since i've already mentioned toji’s best friend, it wouldn’t feel right to not write about him next. so, up next is ufc’s bloody monster shiu ;) watching shiu fight, all sweaty in the ring, is probably everyone’s dream here, don’t you think?

.ᐟ check Champions League's Masterlist to meet the other champions

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who earned his nickname for his ruthless and rule-breaking style of play.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who is considered the greatest tight end of all time. This man was practically built to dominate this position with his size, strength, and speed.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who, despite his dirty plays, loves being called “The Bulldozer,” especially when it comes from his female fans. He enjoys knowing how manly they think he is.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who constantly mocks MLB’s best player, Gojo, in interviews because Toji has way more thirst-trap edits. “Oh, you’re talking about that scrawny guy? Of course they’re going to make more edits of a real man like me.”

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who posted a photo with Stephen Curry after a basketball game (the second post on his barely-used Instagram) with the caption, “After f*cking Suguru Geto :)” and gained a million likes in under 20 minutes. (Not to mention, he absolutely despises the NBA star Geto.)

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji whose only trusted friend is his best buddy, the famous boxer Shiu Kong.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who grew up in a terrible household where his family despised him.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who got the scar near his lip during a violent fight with his brother.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who hates that scar because it reminds him of the disgusting family that never loved him.

nfl'sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji whose jersey number is 22 (the day his son was born).

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who, despite wanting to spend time with his son, reluctantly agrees to hire a babysitter because of his demanding job.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who is extremely picky about babysitters and has already rejected over 100 candidates.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji whose eyes widen in shock when he sees your name among the applicants—what the hell is the coach’s precious, ten-years-younger daughter doing here?

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who calls you for an interview, pretending he doesn’t know you’re the coach’s daughter. He’s stunned when you greet him casually (as if the man standing in front of you wasn’t a player on the team your father coaches.) and somehow manage to bond with his grumpy son, Megumi, in a way he never thought possible.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who growls in displeasure when he learns you’ve been secretly saving money from your dad to move abroad. But when you promise to keep everything confidential if he hires you, he reluctantly agrees—Megumi’s already won over by you.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who comes home exhausted from practice, seeking silence and peace, only to find you in the kitchen with Megumi, decorating cupcakes and singing loudly. He grits his teeth in frustration and retreats to his room, though he secretly marvels at how his son, who rarely cares about anyone, listens to you intently.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who ends up eating those cupcakes late at night and, despite himself, admits they’re the best he’s ever had.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who rolls his eyes when Megumi talks about how beautiful, fun, and silly you are, even though he thinks the same things himself.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who secretly feels happy when you invite him to your park day with Megumi. He acts disinterested but can’t help smiling when he sees you and Megumi playing football on the grass. He eventually joins your game just to make you lose (not because he’s eager to play with you or anything, of course).

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who carries a sleeping Megumi home after the park and, when you say you should leave, grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to invite you to stay for a drink.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who sits on the couch in his massive living room, hesitant to start a conversation with you. When he finally manages to say, “Thank you,” and you respond with a warm smile, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst out of his chest. This is not a good sign—he’s starting to fall for the one person he absolutely shouldn’t.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who drops everything during practice when he gets a call from Megumi’s preschool saying his son was in a fight.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who is relieved to find that Megumi wasn’t hurt but becomes enraged when he learns the fight started because another child called him a motherless bastard.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who calls you at Megumi’s request. When you show up 10 minutes later to comfort his upset son, all his anger dissipates. Even though he had explained part of the fight over the phone, seeing the worried and frustrated expression on your face makes him realize he chose the right person for this job. His heart knows it.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who grumbles when Megumi asks if you can sleep with him for the night but eventually agrees when you and Megumi give him those sad, pleading looks. He’s surprised to see you upset and can’t help but wonder if you might have some feelings for him.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who watches both his son and you sleep that night. His fingers lightly brush your cheek, and he curses himself, knowing someone as broken and ugly as him could never be loved by you.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who is stunned the next day when he goes to pick up his son from school and the boy Megumi fought with nervously apologizes, claiming he met Megumi’s mom.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who can’t sleep that night, replaying the boy’s words because his son didn’t have a mother. She left them. Instead of calling Shiu, he calls you in the middle of the night and, after hesitating, tells you everything that happened today.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who is shocked when you admit that after dropping Megumi off at school that morning, you confronted the boy (or rather, likely threatened him) and told him to stay away from Megumi. You also made it clear that he owed both Megumi and him an apology and told him to stop talking nonsense by saying you were Megumi’s mother. There’s a brief silence on the line after that. When Toji finally speaks, it’s only to say, “Don’t ever lie like that again,” before hanging up. That night, he decides he needs to drink until he forgets everything.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who, no matter how much he drinks, can never get what happened or what was said out of his mind.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who shows up at your apartment the next day after dropping Megumi off with Shiu. He storms in without waiting for an invitation, frustrated and angry.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who, with anger in his voice, tells you that getting so close to him and Megumi wasn’t a good idea, that you haven’t considered the heartbreak you’ll leave behind when you move abroad, and how unfair it is that you’ve made them love you so deeply. But the moment he sees tears streaming down your face, he realizes he’s completely ruined everything.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who, feels the sting of every punch you land on his chest in response to his words.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who, after hearing you say, “Don’t you understand, you idiot? I can’t leave you. I can’t be happy for even a single second without seeing you and Megumi. Ever since you let me into your little world, I’ve never wanted to leave. I-I don’t want to be without you, Toji. I want to be part of your small, beautiful family,” doesn’t hesitate for even a moment before crashing his lips onto yours. As he pulls back to catch his breath, he leans close to your ear and whispers, “I don’t think we could ever let you go, love. You’ve already become part of that small, beautiful family you wanted so much.” Then, he kisses you again, deeper this time.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who lies in your too-small bed, watching you sleep, realizing he’s the luckiest man alive.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, during practice, confessed to his coach (and future father-in-law) that he was in love with his daughter and that you had been looking after his child for a long time, only to get beaten to a pulp right then and there. He didn’t regret a single second of it.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, after practice, walked into the house with your father, battered and bruised, only to find you and Megumi waiting inside. When your father demanded you say it was all a joke, you simply replied, “I’m in love with the man whose face you just wrecked.” That earned Toji another punch from your father, but when your father saw the tears streaming down your face and realized how much you cared, he swore that if Toji ever hurt you, he’d kill him—no matter if he was the best player on the team.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, while cleaning his wounds, noticed your puffy, tear-swollen eyes. His lips curled into a smirk as he was about to tease you, but before he could, his son asked, “Are you guys dating?” Unsure of how to respond, he finally blurted out, “Yeah. I’m dating your mom, kid.”

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, for the first time, trusts someone other than his best friend—his future wife, you.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, every time you kiss the scar on his lip that he hates—the one that reminds him of his horrible family—can’t help but wonder what he did to deserve someone like you.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, at every game, watches you and Megumi cheering from the front row and silently vows never to lose—on the field or in life.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfhusband!toji who finally made you officially Megumi’s mother and his wife.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfhusband!toji who posts the third photo on his Instagram, and it’s a picture from your wedding with you and Megumi.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfhusband!toji who, during your first family vacation at the end of the season, watches you and Megumi playing in the ocean and realizes he’s no longer haunted by his past. All he sees now is the perfect family he’s built.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

toji art by @sso_s_

divider by @cafekitsune

[an-apocalypse-of-magpies]

The thing about Christmas, or indeed any holiday but especially ones where there is a social or communal component, as an adult is this:

When you're a kid, your parents probably did all the organising of such holidays. The humdrum bits just happened quietly in the background for a month or so.

As an adult, you have to put the work in yourself.

In some ways, this is daunting. You never entirely appreciate how expensive gift-giving holidays are until you have to buy those gifts yourself. You need to learn to cook the traditional recipes just like your parents before you, or else go without and have it feel hollow and like it's missing that certain something. You have to be the one to organise meeting the family.

And that's a lot! That's a lot to pick up very suddenly after becoming independent! And, to top it off, in culturally-Christian countries everything's closed on Christmas, so you can't exactly go out and do anything else if you don't want to do the above.

My mum has a tradition of making lasagne for dinner on Christmas Eve. It's not very festive, but it uses up a lot of spare ingredients (and, more importantly, the ingredients that aren't going to be needed for Christmas dinner the next day), it can be prepared ahead of time if you have to negotiate weird shift patterns (my mum used to work at a hospital radiology lab, so random night shifts became a fact of life), and it's a rich, filling dinner that everyone likes, and is easy to make a lot of.

My dad started a tradition of doing a 1000pc jigsaw puzzle every New Year's Eve, setting it up after lunch and trying to finish it before midnight. Does anyone else do this? I dunno, but I now do it every year, and I've got the in-laws in on it too.

My point is, if you like traditional stuff, you need to take up the mantle and start doing it yourself. If you want to change things up or start new traditions? Go nuts, it's your festive period. Go see friends if you don't want to see family! Find a movie to pull out! Build the habits! And soon enough, you will have your own flow that feels like home to you

saddest thing ever is seeing new 18-22 year olds talk about how Christmas doesn't feel magical anymore during their transition from it being a super special day of the year to kinda just another average day of the year. I remember that feeling well, and I just want to say to those young people specifically: if you want the magic back you have to create it yourself now, the way you want to. it's your magic now

[mountttmase]

All That Matters

Note - merry (early) Christmas everyone 🩷 I’ve missed writing dad Mase and he’s just the most precious Christmas angel in this one. I hope you like it and feedback would be very much appreciated 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6.4k

Warnings - fluff and smut

‘What’s that pout for, pretty girl?’ Mason asked as he snaked his arm around your waist. His lips pressing the most gentle kiss to your temple but you just shrugged and pursed your lips.

‘Dunno I just feel a bit meh’ you told him. Feeling a little guilty that you were ruining today a little with your mood but thankfully Mason was the only one to pick up on it and you were hoping it would stay that way.

Christmas was usually your favourite time of year. You just loved all of it and since you’d had the kids, it had only made it more special. You loved decorating the house, cooking for everyone and picking out presents that you knew the special people in your life would love more than anything and the fact Mason was also big on Christmas made it even more fun. A chance for you both to reflect on another year of your lives you’d spent together, learning and loving the other one just like always but there was something about this year where you just couldn’t get into the spirit like usual.

Right now you should have been in your element. You were at your favourite garden centre, surrounded by beautiful twinkling lights as the smell of hot chocolate and sweet treats floated through the air, all whilst the kids got more and more excited about what they were about to do. Discussing with each other their Christmas lists and what they wanted to say to the big man himself but you were more focused on the little boy who was strapped to your chest and looking up at you adorably. His tiny cheeky smile was so much like Mason’s and everytime he directed it your way you felt a wave of happiness and love flood you.

‘Well you better turn that frown upside down before Santa sees it. He might ask you to sit on his knee so he can cheer you up and I won’t be having that’ Mason suddenly butted in, his words making you roll your eyes but you knew he was only trying to make you smile and you could feel the corners of your mouth turning up automatically.

‘Will you stop it’

‘Sorry baby’ he laughed. Pulling you into his side so he could drop a kiss on your head but even his affections went making you feel much better this time. ‘Tell me what’s up’

‘It’s just…’ you trailed off. Not knowing how to vocalise your thoughts anymore just in case you sounded silly but Mason being Mason could read you and when he tipped your chin up so you could look at each other you felt a little weight lifted.

‘What baby?’

‘This is Ryley’s first time seeing Santa right?’ You started. Watching Mason's confused face as he listened on but you knew he was really trying for you.

‘Yeah?’

‘So how many more of his firsts are we gonna blitz our way through in the next month?’ You asked him but he still looked a little bewildered and confused. ‘This is the last time we’ll ever take our baby to meet Santa for the first time. The last time we’ll get to buy one of the kids a my first Christmas jumper or buy them a special bauble for the tree. I just can’t believe we’ve got here like life is going way too quickly for me’

‘Oh sweetheart’ he pouted, squeezing your side to let you know it was okay and he understood but that didn’t mean you still weren’t going to be moody about it. The pair of you had decided that once Ryley was born then that would be it for your family, no more babies so you weren’t struggling and were able to give the ones you have all the love in the world. You were most definitely still on board with your decision but as you made your way through all of Ryley’s firsts it hit you they were also your lasts.

‘Doesn’t help Ollie is basically an old man at this point and probably won’t even believe in Santa next year. Like when did he get so big?’ You asked, eyes filling with tears that you tried to sniff away but Mason knew you were upset and the sad smile on his face didn’t do much to help you feel any better.

‘You forget my love, Tilly is absolutely mental and will probably still believe in him until she’s 15 just to spite everyone else’ he whispered. Kissing your cheek as he stroked the back of Ryley’s head softly. ‘And this munchkin, well he’s basically fresh from the womb. We’ve got loads of time left with him’

‘Mason he's one in two months’

‘Who’s next?’ you suddenly heard. Looking up to see a younger girl dressed as an elf smiling at the five of you widely and you knew you had to pep yourself up a bit. Placing a hand each on Ollie and Tilly’s shoulder to push them forward a bit as you could tell they were a little apprehensive.

‘That's us guys, come on don’t be nervous. You’ve been waiting all year to see the big man’ you reassured them and your heart almost broke when Tilly reached up to hold Ollie’s hand to ease her nerves.

Ollie let Tilly speak to Santa first, the pair of them getting over their nerves a little bit and you listened intently as to what she was asking for so you could make a mental note as to what you needed to get. Doing the exact same with Ollie but just as you’d expected his list was just full of books and comics.

‘Who’s the little one then?’ Santa asked as soon as Ollie was done and you smiled as you began to undo the straps on your papoose to get him out but before you could speak Tilly was telling Santa who he was about to meet.

‘That's my baby Ryley’ she told him, making Santa laugh as you sat him on Santa's knee but you made sure you stayed close just in case he got scared. Thankfully for you Ryley was fine and seemed more curious about him than anything else. Wanting to reach out and touch his beard as he showed Santa his new trick of poking his tongue out, something you figured Tilly had taught him, so you took it upon yourself to speak on his behalf.

When it was time to go, just after you’d all had your picture taken with the main man, Santa let the kids pick a little present out from his bag. Ollie grabbed one for Ryley too but Tilly was straight over to Mason as she figured something was wrong.

‘Daddy, are you gonna sit on Santa's knee and tell him what you want?’ She asked and you nearly dropped Ryley as you tried to put him back in the papoose as you were laughing and wondering how he was going to works his way out of this one

‘Nah it’s okay baby, I’ve uh… I’ve emailed him mine and mummy’s list already’ he told her as he looked to Santa for some back up and thankfully he caught on.

‘That's true’ Santa smiled. ‘I had a look at it this morning’

‘Come on then, say thank you to Santa’ Mason smiled. Picking Tilly up and popping her on his hip as he guided Ollie out and back to the main shop. You’d promised them you’d get them a treat on the way out so you made a stop in the food hall for a gingerbread man iced to look like Santa for the two older ones before popping everyone back in the car. Passing Ryley a biscuit you’d already packed for him as gingerbread was a bit tough for him and he smiled back at you widely before tucking in.

It wasn’t a long drive home, but Mason had his hand in yours the whole time as he softly sung along to the Christmas songs on the radio. Normally you would be singing along with him but you didn’t feel like it today. Your eyes flickering in between the view outside and your mirror so that you could check up on Ryley but he was conked out already. His little chubby fingers wrapped around Tilly’s as she munched on her biscuit with her free hand and the whole scene made your heart thump in your chest.

When you got home you got Ryley in as carefully as you could so he’d stay asleep and popped him in his room for a nap. The house was unusually quiet and when you were done with Ryley so you went in search of Mason who was laid on the sofa with the tv on quietly and Nala curled up curled up at his feet.

‘Where are the others?’

‘Ollie’s reading and Tilly’s just over there’ Mason told you quietly. Nodding over to the other sofa opposite where Tilly was also fast asleep with a blanket thrown over her little body.

‘Why is she over there?’ You laughed, walking over to Mason who was holding his arms out for you and even though you knew what would happen if you laid down with him, you still went with it. Needing his comfort more than anything as you were feeling so fragile.

‘Cause she’s like a little ball of fire when she sleeps and anyway I wanted us to talk without waking her up’

‘What about?’ You asked. Trying to play dumb but just frowned at you as you nuzzled into his neck, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time that day.

‘You feeling any better?’ He asked, lips on your forehead as he stroked your back softly. You loved the way he cared so much and was so concerned about you but you still felt a bit silly and unsure as to how to vocalise your feelings.

‘A little bit’

‘You expect me to believe that?’ He whispered and you couldn’t help but giggle. No matter how much you tried to hide anything from Mason it never worked so you did your best to explain what was going on inside your head and he listened along intently. Never making you feel silly or stupid about your feelings no matter how insane you thought you sounded.

It was just a lot and you felt responsible for all of Christmas. That wasn’t because Mason didn’t help, there was only so much he could do with his busy schedule and you knew anytime you did need help he’d be there but you wanted to make sure everyone had a good time. That on top of trying to make Ryleys first Christmas a memorable one was causing everything to crumble around you.

‘Do you remember your first Christmas?’ He asked after you were done ranting. Stroking your jaw gently as he looked at you but as much as you tried to think your mind was blank.

‘No’

‘I don’t remember mine either, pretty sure Ollie doesn’t and Tilly doesn’t remember what happened yesterday half the time’ he joked making you chuckle as you nuzzled into him. You knew he was right, there was no need to be so stressed as Ryley was still so little and wouldn’t remember it anyway but you still wanted to make it a special time for everyone no matter how down you were feeling.

You had to stop talking eventually when Tilly woke up and saw the pair of you having a cuddle without her. To say she wasn’t best pleased was an understatement and you tried to hold in your giggles as she sleepily stomped over to you and demanded to join. Mason was right though, she felt like a human radiator and you could feel yourself overheating but you didnt move. Now Ryley was here it wasn’t often you got time like this with just your baby girl so you held her just as tight as Mason was holding the both of you.

As the weeks flew by, you made it through all of Ryley’s firsts just like you thought you would. Finding the perfect my first Christmas jumper for him, letting him choose his special bauble for the tree by holding two up and getting him the one he reached for. You’d taken him Christmas shopping which was so busy and hectic you’d vowed to do the rest online but you had managed to pick him up his first stocking with a big R embroidered on the front.

Shopping online was pretty easy in the end and you managed to get most things without needing to go to an actual shop. It was a week before Christmas though when you were double checking everyone’s lists and you knew you were missing something.

It wasn’t something Tilly had written down on her list to send to Santa but something she’d asked for when she’d seen him. Telling you later on that day that she’d done that to see if he was actually listening and would bring for her and now you felt like you were about to ruin the idea of Santa for her forever.

It was a singing Olaf toy from Frozen. The new it toy apparently and everywhere you looked it was sold out. All the big toy stores, the little ones too and even the independent ones near you said they would be out until the new year and you cursed yourself for not remembering and getting it sooner. It was just another thing that had fallen to the back of the queue after everything else that had occupied your brain and when you told Mason later that night he told you not to worry and to leave it with him to fix. You weren’t exactly sure what he meant by that but you trusted him and left him to it.

Next on the list of forgotten things was the Christmas food shop, remembering the next night that you should probably get it all in the basket and checked out before it was too late and once Mason was putting all the to kids bed you sat in the kitchen and got to work.

‘You okay in here gorgeous?’ You heard, looking up to see Mason had popped his head around the doorway and you sent him a soft smile. ‘Kids are all in bed’

‘Thanks baby’ you uttered. Rubbing the heels of your hands into your eyes to try and wipe away some of the tiredness you felt but before long you felt Mason's hands on your shoulders as he tried to work out some of the knots that had formed.

‘You alright?’ He whispered. Dropping a kiss to your head as his fingers worked their magic and you had to stop yourself from groaning in pleasure.

‘I’m okay, just doing the Christmas food shop and trying not to forget anything’ you chuckled. Pulling out the chair next to you so he could take a seat as you talked him through everything you’d picked and thankfully you had everything. You had both agreed you’d do it online this year as there wasn’t much time to go to the shops and the thought of trying to get everything with the kids in tow filled you with nightmares. Thankfully they said they had slots available at such short notice and once Mason had gone through everything you only had to add in a few extra bits that he wanted. When you came to check out you though you felt deflated once more and Mason was eyeing you curiosity. ‘I don’t believe it, there’s no good bloody slots available. 4pm on Christmas Eve is the last one’

‘That’s okay baby, it’ll still get here on time’ he reassured you. Kissing your temple softly as he could see you were getting stressed again and with a big huff you paid for your order even with the delayed delivery as you didn’t really have any other options.

‘Sorry I feel so unorganised this year, feels like it’s all going wrong’ you laughed as you shut the laptop down. Mason was pulling you into his chest immediately after though and you felt yourself relax in his embrace.

‘Don’t worry, it’s fine. Nothing will go wrong as long as we’re all together, yeah?’ He reassured you and even though you nodded you couldn’t say you were completely agreeing with him right now. ‘Can I help with anything? Maybe I could start on some wrapping?’

‘It’s late Mase, don’t you wanna go to sleep?’

‘Nah, let’s blast some of this out and then we can head up. We’ll feel better when we’ve got a bit done’ he reassured you and you spent the next half an hour wrapping up a big chunk of presents so you made sure to give Mason a big kiss to say thank you as knowing that part was taken care of had lightened your load a little bit.

It was 4pm on the dot on Christmas Eve when the food shop turned up. Not exactly the best time but you left the kids and Nala in the living room with a movie on and some snacks whilst you and Mason got to work bringing it in but Mason got stuck talking to the driver who turned out to be a United fan in the end so you got started putting everything away.

You knew something was wrong as soon as you started unpacking the bags. Some of the stuff was what you’d ordered yet a few things weren’t and when you got to the most important part you could have torn your hair out.

‘Sorry love, thought I’d do my good deed and have a chat with him. You getting on alright?’ he laughed as he walked into the kitchen but you were facing away from him so he couldn’t see how upset you were at first. It only took a small, barely audible sniff from you to grab his attention and within a nanosecond he was crossing the kitchen and gently cupping your jaw to look at you. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

‘It’s all wrong, they’ve swapped a load of stuff out and we haven’t got half the things I need’ you gulped. Tears slowly falling down your cheeks as everything finally got the better of you. This Christmas had been overwhelming to say the least but you’d tried to put on a brave face through it all. This was the straw that broke the camel's back though and as Mason pulled you into his chest you sobbed as quietly as you could.

‘Come on baby, surely it’s not that bad’ he told you lightly. Swaying you from side to side as he kissed your head but in your mind this was a disaster. ‘Sit up here and tell me what’s wrong’ he told you, pulling away so he could pop you up on the island counter and once he was settled in between your legs you began to list everything off.

‘They’ve sent the wrong stuffing mix, that dessert you wanted they’ve swapped for something completely different, all the veg looks weird and they’ve sent us millions of potatoes’

‘That doesn’t sound so bad, I’m not really meant to have too many sweets so maybe it’s a blessing in disguise’

‘We don’t have a turkey’ you pouted. Your eyes welling up again as both looked over to the big plastic wrapped bird sat a few feet away from you on the counter and a questioning look settled over Masons features.

‘What’s that then?’

‘It’s just a really big chicken’ you sobbed. Hands covering your face as you began to cry even harder than before and you knew that you looked completely ridiculous crying over a chicken. Mason pulling you back to his chest and you could feel him trying to hold in the laughs as he rubbed your back.

‘Baby come on, you’re alright’ he whispered but unfortunately his words did nothing to calm you like they normally did and you carried on sobbing until he pulled away and held your jaw so he could wipe your eyes. ‘Hey hey hey, look at me’ he whispered. ‘I couldn’t care if it was a turkey or a flying fucking pig okay? As long as tomorrow I’m sitting round the table with you and the kids, that’s all that matters yeah? Christmas is about being together not what’s on our plates’ he told you with a smile and you knew he thought you were completely ridiculous.

‘I just feel like a rubbish mum’ you sniffed and the look of hurt that flashed across his face made your heart hurt.

‘Please don’t say that he pouted. ‘You’re the best mummy in the world I promise. You’ve worked so hard for all of this for us and you know me and the kids appreciate everything’ he reassured you before a tiny smile tugged at his lips again. ‘You know what? I hate turkey, It’s dry as fuck. As for the kids, I don’t think they’ll even realise okay? You don’t have to get upset about it’

‘Are you sure?’ you sniffed. His words lifting you slightly when he nodded back at you. ‘I knew I should have got one the other day. It’s too late to go and get anything now and they’ll be sold out anyway’

‘Right well let’s sort this all out and make a plan, yeah?’ He smiled. Tapping your thigh before popping a sweet kiss to your lips and you couldn't believe how lucky you were to have him.

It didn’t take that long for you to work everything out. Going through the list of the swaps and whilst it was inconvenient, Mason made you see things would just have to be a little different this year and that it was fine. That maybe some of them could be new traditions for your family and that you still had all the main bits you were just making this year more memorable with a few changes.

‘I’m sorry for getting so upset’ you sighed once everything was away and you had more of a plan for tomorrow. Wrapping your arm around his waist before he pulled you into a cuddle and the warmth of his body relaxed you like nothing else.

‘You’re upset because you care and that’s exactly what I love about you, okay?’ He told you softly. Kissing the top of your head as he stroked up and down your back. ‘Now come on, we can catch the rest of the film before we put the kids to bed’

Even after you told them all they had to to have an early night and that Santa would only come if they were asleep you could tell it wasn’t going to be an easy night for you. The eldest two were excited beyond belief and even though Ryley was so small it was like he could feel the change in the air and was just happy to join in. Crawling around on the floor with Nala so he could follow Ollie who was pretending to run away slowly and all three of them found it hilarious. Tilly in hysterics as she giggled away but little did you know it would be Mason that would make it all worse. Tickling her tummy until she was laughing through her tears and you knew it was about to be a long night.

It was chaos, but you loved your little family so much and it made your heart happy to see how excited everyone was and how the kids were none the wiser to your mixed up emotions this year. There was so much love in this room and you couldn't take your eyes off of Mason as all the kids piled in on him. He was right, just like usual, and as long as you were all together tomorrow then you’d be fine.

You managed to regain a little bit of control when you told them it was time to put snacks out for Santa. Mason telling them they should put a brownie and a hot chocolate out instead as he bet Santa was sick of mince pies and milk but you knew it was just because he didn’t want another one and would prefer something chocolatey. Ollie wouldn’t have it though and told him that he wasn’t risking Santa not stopping by because they’d put the wrong snacks out and you made a deal that you’d eat the mince pie if he drunk the milk and took a bite out of the carrot.

Once you knew they were all asleep you got to work arranging all the gifts in their own little sections before placing some under the tree. You could tell you were both exhausted though so you did what you could before traipsing back upstairs and collapsing into bed. Not bothering to set an alarm as you knew the kids would be waking you up early anyway but to your surprise it was Mason that woke you up before anyone else. His hands lightly massaging your waist as he kissed your neck from behind and you were hoping he might let you have a little bit of well needed stress relief after the last few weeks.

‘Merry Christmas, beautiful’ he whispered into your neck. The sound making your skin tingle as you could tell my the tone of it that he was after the same thing you were craving.

‘Merry Christmas, Mase’

‘If my calculations are correct, we’ve got about 15 minutes before the kids come looking for us’ he whispered lowly and the sound made you shiver.

‘Oh really?’

‘Mhmmm. You gonna let me give you an early gift?’ He whispered and if you weren’t so turned on you would have found it strange how you were so in tune with each other. That didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him a little bit though.

‘I’m not sure, Mase. Have we got time?’ You asked innocently whilst rubbing your behind all over his lap and you knew you were having the desired effect as he gripped your waist tightly.

‘Don’t doubt me’ he whispered, a smile evident in his voice. ‘Just stay there baby, let me take care of you’ he told you but you felt his warmth leave you almost immediately. Hearing him moving around behind you but when you saw his boxers fly over the top of you and drop to the floor you knew what he’d done. Giggling as you felt his body heat return and when his lips touched your neck you moaned quietly.

Even though Mason had gone to the effort of undressing himself, clearly he was too impatient to wait until you were also undressed because you felt his fingers push your shorts down slightly and your underwear to the side shortly after. His fingers dragging up and down you deliciously until he popped them in his mouth and got back to work.

As much as you loved it when he was teasing you like this, you also knew you didn’t have that much time and you wanted to feel him properly so you started to buck your hips back into him a little more in hopes he’d get the message and thankfully he did. Feeling him shuffle a bit after a second or two before gripping himself and guiding his way inside you as carefully as he could.

You felt yourself melt into the sheets as soon as he was inside of you. Feeling him drag in and out of you deliciously as the familiar thickness of him made you shiver once more. No matter how many times you were in this position it felt better than the last but you knew where you were and the possibility that little ears might be able to hear you soon so you covered your mouth and did your best to keep quiet.

‘Don’t be shy baby, I wanna hear you’ Mason murmured in your ear. His voice strained as he lost himself in you and clearly you had to remind him why you couldn’t let loose.

‘’Remember where we are’ you chuckled, feeling him sigh into your neck before he began to pull out but within a flash he’d pulled you onto your back and was pushing inside you again. His lips on yours to silence any moans the pair of you were making and as much as you were in your element you could tell he was holding back a bit now. ‘Masey, please’

‘What is it, baby?’

‘M-more please’ you breathed. Wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close and the little chuckle that fell from his lips excited you.

You werent went quite sure what he was doing, but he moved all of his weight over to one side so he could lean on one arm. His free hand now moving its way up your body until he reached your neck and the slight squeeze made you groan in delight as his hips began to snap back and forth quicker.

‘That’s it, that what you wanted?’ He cooed in your ear. The soft sound of his voice a stark contrast to how he was treating you right now but you couldn’t get enough. You loved it when he was a little rough with you like this and you could feel your thighs tingle in pleasure.

‘Mhmmm’ you moaned, letting him capture your lips once more to silence you.

‘Such a good girl for me’ he breathed into your mouth and before you knew it, it was getting too much for him. Ducking his head into your neck as you threaded your fingers through his hair so you could pull on it slightly just how he liked.

It was the wet kisses he was pressing into your neck that finally tipped you over the edge. Moaning into his shoulder as he quickened his pace but he was finished just after you and the little giggle that left his lips warmed your heart.

You’d barely caught your breath before you heard the footsteps running down the hall and Mason stiffened in your arms. Immediately knowing he was completely bare under the covers and if Tilly was up to her usual then this wouldn’t end well.

‘Fuck, what am I gonna-‘

‘Just lay down it’s fine’ you giggled as Tilly burst into your room. Running straight over and into your arms and you tried to hold in your laughs at how awkward Mason was being but it was hard when Tilly was so excited.

‘Santas been!’

‘Has he?’ You beamed, watching her excitedly roll off the bed so she could run over to Mason behind you but before she could, she managed to pick up Mason's discarded underwear off the floor and pop them on her head like a hat. Clearly too overcome with excitement to even think about what she was doing but Mason was mortified as he watched her run around your room in the black Calvin’s he was previously wearing not too long ago.

‘Tilly baby’ you giggled, jumping up so you could take them off of her head before flinging them back to Mason and he caught them before stuffing them under the covers. ‘How about we go and get Ollie so we can see what Santa left us and daddy can go and wake Ryley up?’ You told her. Taking her hand and walking her out of your room as you shot Mason a look over your shoulder, just in time to watch him blowing you a kiss.

Ollie was already awake which made things easier and you were only waiting for a few minutes for Mason and Ryley to make an appearance. Ryley still sleeping soundly by the looks of things as his little face was nuzzled into Masons neck so they both sat in the arm chair and you all let Ryley wake up a little bit more. Nala coming to join you moments later and she seemed confused as to why you were all up and awake but she sat herself by Mason and watched what was going on intently.

The eldest two were chomping at the bit to get started so you let them go. Helping them pick the right presents for the right person and clearing up slightly after them as they went but you loved watching them get excited with each new gift and the noise had Ryley interested so Mason came to join you with him for a bit so he could get involved.

The kids were most of the way through the presents and you knew Mason hadn’t been able to get the toy Tilly so desperately wanted. She was clearly excited and happy about everything she’d received but you knew she was looking for it and with each present opened her hope was waning.

Mason told you he’d sorted it and you didn’t know if he was hiding it somewhere for an extra special surprise but when you gave him a nervous glance he just winked at you before searching under the tree.

‘Oh wow, Tilly have you seen this?’ Mason asked as he sat back up and when you looked over he was holding a thick white envelope with her name perfectly inscribed on the front. ‘What does that say baby?’

‘Tilly’ she smiled, pointing at herself as it was one of the few words she could read and Mason nodded at her proudly.

‘That's right, it’s for you’ he told her, passing it over. ‘Why don’t you open it and maybe mummy will read it to you?’

You watched her scurry over. Passing you the official looking envelope that you quickly tore into quickly before opening up a typed up letter on some Santa stationery and you sat her on your knee so you could read it together.

‘Oh wow Tilly, a letter from the big man himself?’ Mason smiled and you knew she was beaming back at him. ‘Thats huge’

‘Santa mummy’ she squeaked. Your heart melting at the effort Mason had gone to to keep his little girl happy.

‘I know baby. That’s nice of him isn’t it, and you can wait can’t you?’

‘I can wait’ she nodded, holding her letter like it was the most important thing she’s ever received.

‘Good girl’

‘Ollie look’ she shouted. Jumping down from next to you so she could show him her letter and he seemed impressed by what he was seeing.

Mason was coming over to sit with you soon after with Ryley cradled in his arms and a few unopened gifts for you to open with him. Letting Ryley tear the paper as best as he could after you’d started him off to reveal a few new soft toys and some things to chew on but soon enough Ollie needed help trying to set up a new game he’d been gifted. Mason handed Ryley over so you could cuddle up together and give him his morning feed in peace, knowing you needed a few moments alone with your boy before the chaos of the day took over. Mason also hadn't gotten involved too much this morning as he sat with Ryley and you knew he wanted to spend some time playing with the kids.

‘Merry Christmas little man’ you whispered. Stroking his head gently as he looked up at you and you felt so full of love you wanted to squish him. His little hand stroking Nala next to him and you knew it was a comfort thing to have her close by when he was having a feed. ‘You probably won’t remember any of this but it’s all a little messed up this year. I’ll make sure it’s all fixed for next year though, and you can join in a little bit more, yeah?’ You told him. Hoping he understood what you meant somehow but even if he didn’t you were still excited for what the day held.

One of the big gifts you’d bought Ryley was a walker and whilst the kids were occupied with looking at their gifts, Mason put it together as you made the pair of you a coffee. Popping him in it after it was done so he could get a feel for it and soon enough he was walking around and crashing into everything. Your bright idea now seeming like a nightmare as he tried to run from room to room and bounce off the walls but Mason thought it was hilarious and was following after him to try and record Ryley on his little rampage.

‘Thank you, Mase’ you told him as he came into the kitchen to get his coffee you’d made him but he stopped in his tracks at your words.

‘What for?’ He asked curiously. Placing his hands around your waist as he pulled you to his body and you couldn’t resist reaching up and kissing him softly. This morning had been crazy but it was the first time in a while you hadn’t felt so rubbish about everything and you knew it was him you had to thank for that.

‘For talking me down everytime I’ve wanted to have a hissy fit these last months’ you smiled. ‘And for reminding me that Christmas is about us just being together’

‘I’ll tell you everyday if you need me to, you know that right?’ He whispered, pecking your lips softly once more. ‘I mean it, everything that’s good about our family comes from you and I’d never want you to think what you do for us isn’t good enough when my life with you is more than I could have ever asked for’

‘Masey’ you pouted. Your eyes filling up for a whole different reason and when he softly placed a kiss on your nose you couldn’t help but let them spill over.

‘Hey, no tears on Christmas’ he winked, wiping your cheeks. ‘I mean it though, you’re the best mum and wife and friend I could have ever asked for and we love you so much’

‘I love you too’

‘Are you ready to see what Santa got you now the kids have had their gifts?’ He asked, hoping a change of subject would cheer you up a bit and it worked as you were itching to see what gift he’d pulled out of the bag for you this year.

‘Yes please’ you giggled. Letting him take you hand and walk you back into the chaos that was Christmas morning in the Mount household.

[fungateshortcakes]

Crochet me a mistletoe

Got this idea because, well, it's christmas and I recently started crocheting! I am nowwhere near as good as I described the skills of the reader. I can't even crochet a simple scarf. But practice makes perfect, and a girl can dream right? (Reader is gender neutral)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Its christmas at the mansion and you've crocheted everyone a special gift. What will Logan think about the present you made especially for him?

Wordcount: 4.9k

Warnings/tags: english is not my first language, none, fluff, slowburn-ish, friends to lovers, reader can crochet, painfully sappy, missunderstandings?, itty bitty bits of angst, happy ending

The x-men mansion in december felt like stepping into a festive snow globe. Frosted windows framed the place, a hord of students racing through the halls as they were excited to spent the christmas holidays at home with their families, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of christmas jingles that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

The large tree in the main living room was a masterpiece, each ornament carefully placed by a team effort of students and teachers. Even Logan had been forced politely asked to string the lights, grumbling about it the whole time while he was secretly ensuring that every lightbulb was perfectly in its place. Despite your reassurance that it was fine and that he could come down from the ladder already, he shook his head, a deep frown on his face as he munched on his bottom lip as he rearranged the lights for the 1000th time.

You sighed with a smile, deciding to let him do his thing. Yet you found yourself sneaking glances at him, something you had been doing more often than you cared to admit over the last few months.

He was rugged, rough around the edges and seemingly utterly out of place among the cheery holiday decorations, but there was something about seeing him standing by the firelight, a string of glittery garlands for the tree slung over his shoulder, that made your heart flutter.

But Logan was just your friend. A good one. And you weren’t about to mess that up by acting on a silly crush that wasn't anything more than that. So, instead of drooling at the way his muscles strained and dipped under the wife beater he wore even in this freezing weather while he helped decorating the place, you threw yourself into your newest hobby: crocheting.

For weeks, you had been holed up in your room, learning and practicing how to crochet everything from scarves, mittens and hats to cute plushies and useful items such as cup coasters or little bags.

It had started as a way to pass the time, especially when there was no mission you were sent to. And now that you were deep into the christmas holidays, you didn't even have a class to teach. That's when you realised you had nothing to do and it was time to find a new hobby.

But once you got the hang of it and felt like it wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, the idea of creating handmade gifts for your friends at the mansion had blossomed and you were eager to make a perfect present for everyone.

The work was slow but rewarding. You had already finished a soft scarf for Ororo in her favorite lavender colour that complimented her snow white hair and a set of soft, fingerless gloves for Hank in a deep navy blue. Each project felt like a little piece of yourself, stitched into every loop and knot.

But Logans gift had been different from the start.

It had taken you three tries to find the right yarn until you finally settled on a charcoal gray that would suit his style and features without standing out too much.

You decided on a sweater, something warm and practical that he could wear during the long, cold nights he spent patrolling the grounds. And, because you couldn’t help yourself, you added a small, personal touch. A tiny design embroidered over the heart, a pair of crossed claws encircled by a wreath of holly. You might as well, right? This project would take you a long ass time anyway, so a little embroidery wouldn’t hurt.

Crocheting actual clothing pieces like sweaters and jackets was a painstacking process, taking up lots and lots of yarn and taking forever. Only people you loved were worth that effort. You hoped Logan would know that once he held the finished products in hand.

Now with christmas eve approaching fast, the sweater was nearly finished. But you had other projects that you worked on simultaniously. If the task of crocheting another long chain for a scarf became too dreading and boring, you switched it up by continuing to work on a plushie.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna get yourself snowed in if you keep sittin’ there.”

Logans voice startled you, making you lose the stitch you were in. You looked up from your crocheting to find him leaning against the doorframe of the common room. The fireplace crackled warm beside you and outside the tall open window, there were snowflakes swirling in a gentle flurry. You sat cozy on the windowsill in your warmest clothes, enjoying the crisp breeze against your face and watching how the snow painted the garden of the mansion in a dazzling bright white, all while absentmindely crocheting your gifts.

“I like the view” you answered him with a soft smile, the yarn rolling between your feet as you pull at it “And I’m almost done.”

Logan left his spot at the door and stepped into the room, his boots making soft thuds on the wooden floor. “What’re you makin’?” You shook your head as you did only a little to hide the plushie you were crocheting “It’s a surprise” you teased.

Logan raised an eyebrow, hand in his pant pockets, his lips quirking into a smirk. “For me?”

You rolled your eyes with a soft giggle. “Only if you want a teddy bear plush in Scott's outfit" you said, throwing him a knowing look.

He shuddered in mild disgust, chuckled, then settled into the armchair across from you. “Nah, I'm good" he replied, putting his hands up in defence. Then his gaze landed on the bottom of the sweater, his soon to be sweater, that poked out from under your blanket draped over your lap. He pointed to it "I think one of 'em ugly christmas sweaters you are makin' would suit Summers better" he joked, thinking you would laugh along, but he noted your slight hurt frown. Him saying that he thought christmas sweaters were ugly made your heart sting painfully. You pulled the sweater under your blanket completely, shielding it from Logan. “It’s not ugly,” you mumbled, averting eyecontact with him.

In that moment, you weren't too sure about your gift for Logan anymore. The sweater you would give him wasn’t the usual christmas sweater with bright colours and corny patterns, but still, maybe he wasn't a sweater person? What if he didn't like it? He would never say it to your face, but just imagining his unimpressed face, a forced smile as he reluctantly thanked you, already thinking about the best and fastes way to get rid of the clothing piece, it made you want to cry already. All this effort for nothing?

You hadn't realised that you stared at Logan while you where deep in thought, a lit cigar hanging lazily between his lips. “Why’re you always starin’ at me?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Your face heated. “I wasn’t staring. Just thinking” you pressed out, quickly picking up your crocheting again.

Logan blew smoke from out of his nostrils “Sure you weren’t” he said, but there was no teasing in his tone. If anything, he sounded curious, curious of what exactly you where thinking with your brows knitted together.

You focused on the yarn in your hands, on the way your hook looped easily through every stitch, willing yourself to act normal. This was fine. You were fine. “You’re workin’ too hard” Logan muttered after a moment. “Spendin’ all your time on this.”

You shrugged “It’s worth it” you smiled without looking up. “I want everyone to have something special this year. And what's more special than a present made especially for them. I guess the best gift is when someone thinks of you”

Logan looked at you. Looked at you for a long second and didn’t respond right away. When you finally glanced at him, his expression was unreadable, his gaze already turned away and fixed on the fire. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, ask him what he meant by that, Logan stood up, stretching his arms over his head. His white tank top rode up slightly as he stretched, your eyes staring at the dimples on his back before you shook your head, your cheeks on fire.

“Don’t stay up too late” he called, heading towards the door. “Santa don’t visit if you’re awake.”

You laughed, nodding your head dismissive manner “Goodnight, Logan.”

Logan smiled softly as he looked back at you one more time “Night, darlin’.” And then he was gone. You looked down at the half-finished sweater under your blanket, your chest tight as you sighed.

The mansion was alive with holiday excitement the next morning, despite the kids not being there. But if they were, you just knew that they would be buzzing about presents and sneaking peaks under the towering Christmas tree already.

You spent most of the day putting the finishing touches to most of your gifts, tucked away in a quiet corner of the common room. All your presents were nearly finished, except for the sweater you had planned on gifting Logan. You couldn't bring yourself to work on it anymore. You couldn't even look at it, too ashamed that you even came up with this idea.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that Logan appeared in the common room, carrying an armful of firewood. He always looked so effortlessly strong when he carried stuff, it almost made you drool over his forearms and hands. His flannel shirt was rolled up to his elbows, exposing his hairy forearms that had tiny snowflakes clinging to it.

You glanced up from your crocheting, trying not to stare too obviously.

“You been at that all day?” Logan asked, dropping the firewood near the fireplace with a loud thunk. He tried not to smile as he saw you bundled up with balls of yarn and wrapping paper surrounding you, a few ready gifts already stacked on top of the other, a hot cocoa with marshmallows steaming next to you on the coffee table.

“Almost done wrapping everything” you cheered, holding up a crocheted beanie for charles to keep his head warm.

Logans gaze locked onto the garment in your hands. His expression softened for a brief moment before he caught himself and cleared his throat. “Looks good” he said gruffly, turning his attention to the fireplace again.

You smiled faintly, folding the beanie neatly and tucking it into a small box with a gift card and putting it on the stack of finished presents after you wrote Charles name on it “Thanks.”

Logan unsheathed his claws and striked a match on one of them, shaking the tiny flame on a stick before throwing it to the pile of freshly chooped logs “You should take a break. All that knittin' and crochetin' must your fingers” Logan grumbled, blowing at the fire until the flames started to flicker to life, casting a warm glow across the room.

“I will once I am done with all of this” you replied to him, wrapping the next present aside. “it won't take long" Logan straightened back up, brushing his rugged hands on his jeans. “So, what are your plans tonight? Besides playin’ Santa Claus.”

“Ororo planned to watch a christmas movie with the team, I guess I will join them later” you replied, stretching your back a littlesince you had been sitting like a shrimp for the past few days, hunched over your projects. “Why, what about you?”

Logan shrugged "Not much" he cleared his throat “Might head out for a bit. Get some air.”

“On Christmas Eve?”

Logan gave a small, almost shy smile and shrugged “Never been much for all the holiday stuff.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You could stay in. Watch the movie with us.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to yours. “Yeah? You think they wouldn’t mind?”

Your eyebrows raised as he seemed so unsure “Of course not" you denied, smiling warmly. “I can promise that they all want you there, Logan. I know I do"

That evening, the two of you settled into the couch along with Jean and Scott, a bowl of popcorn between you. Ororo sat draped over the seat next to the sofa, Rouge and Remy sitting in front of you on the ground while Kurt was sprawled out right in front of the TV, looking up at the flimmering box with a toothy smile. Even Charles had rolled in to join.

The movie, a classic Christmas move, The Grinch, to be exact, played on the screen, and even though it was one of your favourite christmas movies, you found yourself paying more attention to Logan than the plot.

He was unusually relaxed despite everyone being so huddled up together, leaning back against the cushions with his arms crossed over his chest. You fleetingly looked over to the present neatly tucked away under the tree. His sweater. You had decided to finish it after bickering over it for so long. Well, you didn't exactly have time to make him anything else. And if you did, it would only be half assed. And you didn't want that, Logan deserved more. Something special.

Halfway through the movie, Logan reached for the popcorn, his hand brushing against yours briefly. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a spark up your arm and you felt like you were part of a cheesy and cliche slowburn fanfiction.

You quickly pulled your hand away, your heart racing. “Sorry” he muttered, his voice gruff and quiet as to not alert the others. “It’s okay” you whispered back, trying to sound normal.

The room fell into a comfortable silence again, the only sounds coming from the TV, the crackling fire and a little hushed banter between Rouge and Remy. But you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Logan, your chest tightening with every second you spent sitting so close to him.

“Thanks for talkin' me into this” Logan said suddenly, his voice low. “Didn’t think I’d enjoy it much, but… it’s nice.” Your lips curved into a soft smile. “I’m glad.”

He looked at you then, his dark eyes catching the light of the fire. There was something in his gaze you couldn’t quite place, something warm and unguarded, even though a lot of people were around that could potentionally witness it. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared, leaving just the two of you sitting by the fire, the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting in his eyes.

Then Logan cleared his throat quietly, breaking the spell. “You’re really something else, I hope you know that” he muttered, his voice rough but sincere.

Your cheeks heated, and you looked down at your lap. There they were again, his words from yesterday. The thoughts you had repeated in your head the whole night, not knowing what they represented. “What do you mean?”

“You put all this work into makin’ people happy, to make 'em feel included even though they weren't into it at first.” He explained, draping a muscled arm over the frame of the couch. "You force people into their luck, ya know? Haven't seen anything quite like it"

You brushed a lock behind your ear. "I guess I just wanted to do something nice” you smiled softly. Logan let out a deep, content breath through his nose, looking at you, his eyes soft “Well, you did." Logan said, his gaze lingering on you.

For a second, you thought he might reach out and let the arm that rested over the couch snake around your shoulder to pull you into him, but then he shifted in his seat, his hand retreating to his side.

By the time the movie ended, everyone said their goodbyes and goodnights, swarming out to their rooms to sleep, letting the mansion fall quiet. Only Logan and you were left. You also wanted to just fall into your bed and sleep, but you were too tired already to get yourself moving.

Logan was the first to stand, stretching his arms over his head and giving you a good view of the prominent vein that cascaded below his waistband. You started to think he was doing this on purpose. “Guess I’ll head to bed too" he yawned, his tone thick.

Goodnight, Logan” you replied, watching as he headed toward the door.

He paused before leaving, turning back to look at you. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was soft when he spoke. “Night, darlin’. Sleep well.”

When he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

The morning sun filtered through the frosted windows of the mansion, bathing the common room in a golden glow.

Christmas Day had finally arrived, and the mansion buzzed with the christmas spirit of all. It was a bit overwhelming to see everyone in their christmas pyjamas sitting around the tree, eager for presents.

Logan was already there too, leaning against the mantle with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Well, you liked to sleep in okay? It wasn’t hard to be down in the common room before you.

Logans presence was as steady as ever, but there was a quiet contentment to him this morning, you noted. He looked up as you entered and something in his expression softened.

“Mornin’” he greeted, his voice low, smooth and warm from the hot coffee he was drinking. You lifted your hand in a tiny wave “Morning” you yawned, smiling as you made your way to the tree, the rest of carefully wrapped gifts in your arms that you had finished just the night before after the movie. You couldn't sleep anyway since the thought of Logan made you stay awake, might as well perfect your presents.

After a while, it was your turn to hand out your presents. You crawled under the large tree, gifting them one by one. You watched in glee as the room filled with laughter and delighted exclamations. Ororo beamed when she unwrapped the lavender scarf you had made for her and Hank was already slipping on his navy gloves. Charles shooked his head with a chuckle as he saw the beanie you had crocheted for him, letting his fingers trace over it.

Logan waited patiently, allthough he didn'texpect there to be something for him, his dark eyes following you as you worked your way through the pile of gifts, quietly enjoying the unfiltered reactions from everyone.

When there was only one wrapped gift left you had to hand out, Logan wondered who it could be for since everyone had gotten their present already. But as you turned to him, handing him the neatly wrapped box containing his sweater, his brow lifted in surprise.

“For me?” he asked, as if the idea of receiving a gift was foreign to him.

You giggled at his reaction "Of course. Did you really think I wouldn't give you something?" you asked, smiling shyly. You were just as nervous for him to open the present as he was.

Logan carefully peeled back the paper, his hands oddly delicate for a man who seemed to handle everything with brute strength. When the sweater emerged, he stared at it for a long moment, his thumb brushing over the tiny embroidered design near the heart. He remembered the colour. This was the sweater he had called ugly. He had called your thoughtful gift ugly. He was a horrible person.

“You made this? For me?" he whispered in awe, a little more to himself, his eyes tearing up slightly.

“I did” you nodded, fiddling with your fingers as your nerves ate away at your insides. “Do you like it?”

He looked up at you, his gaze piercing. “I...this is…” he trailed off, shaking his head as if he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he unfolded the sweater and pulled it on right then and there over his tank top. The fit was perfect and the sight of him in something you made with your own hands sent a warm flush through your chest. He looked like a chunky teddy bear and the urge to hug him was growing strong in your chest.

“Looks good on you” you said instead.

Logan’s lips twitched into a rare smile. “Feels good, too. Thank you.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of holiday cheer, but you couldn’t help noticing how Logan stuck close to you. He lingered near the kitchen while you baked cookies with Ororo and Rouge, his presence steady and reassuring. At one point, you caught him running his fingers over the sweaters fabric, his expression distant but content. He protected the sweater with his life, making sure no one ruined it by accidentally pouring wine over it. If just one atom of a cookie crumb were to touch the fabric, he would lash out.

It wasn’t until later that evening, after most had gone to bed and the mansion had settled into a peaceful quiet, that Logan found you sitting by the fire.

“You’ve been busy” he mumbled, his voice low as he sat down beside you.

“I guess I have,” you said, smiling. “It was worth it, though.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable like usual. Then he shifted and the next second, his big hand presented you a tiny wooden figurine, a little cat, carefully hand carved by him. "S'for you" he muttered, averting his gaze. The light of the fire did only so little to hide his embarrassed blush.

You gasped, taking the cat into your hands as if it was made out of glass and would break if you looked at it the wrong way "Did you....did you make this?" you asked him and he nodded reluctantly. You never thought Logan was into wood carving. But now that you knew, it made sense. "Yeah...didn't want to give it to you when everyone else was 'round. No need for 'em to know I have this hobby" he explained to you, picking at a loose thread on his sweater. Your stomach felt warm as you thanked him, holding onto his little present tightly.

You could feel Logans gaze on you as you admired his neat craftmansship, warm and steady and it took everything in you not to lean into him.

“Y’know” he said, breaking the drawn out silence between you “this is the best christmas I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.”

You looked up at him “Really?” you asked, your mouth agape in wonder.

“Yeah” he said, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile that was rare to see from him “And I think I’ve got you to thank for that.” Your heart swelled and before you could stop yourself, you reached out and placed your hand over his. Logan stiffened for only a short moment, his gaze darting to your hand, but then he relaxed, his fingers curling around yours.

“You’re welcome” you whispered softly. Logan didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

The fire started to die out, only faintly gleaming but still enough to wrap you and Logan in a light of warmth. Logans hand was still in yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as the quiet surrounded you both. You couldn’t remember how long you had been sitting there, since when you started to lean against him, head on his shoulder, but time seemed to stretch and slow, every second weighted with something unsaid.

“Darlin’” Logan finally murmured, his voice so soft it felt like it was meant for you alone. “Do you ever think about… settlin’ down?” the question caught you off guard for a second and you turned your head to look at him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Settling down?”

“Yeah” he breathed, his gaze fixed on the low fire. He found an iron rod to dig and shove between the wooden logs that had long turned into coal and ash, trying to distract himself so the words would come easier. “Findin’ somethin’, someone, you can hold onto. Somethin’ real. Y'know, not these kinds of meaningless situationships.”

Your breath hitched and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Logan, the man who had always seemed like a force of nature. Wild, untamed and unyielding—looked almost vulnerable now, his expression open and unguarded.

“I guess I’ve thought about it. It would be nice to have that someone. The right person you can lean onto any time” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like you were leaning against that one person just now. “Have you?”

He let out a soft, almost self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t think I had to. Thought I wasn’t the type for all that. But lately…” He trailed off, finally turning to meet your gaze, looking down at you cuddled up against him “Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ maybe I was wrong.”

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. “Logan” you began, your voice trembling slightly “what are you trying to say?” allthough the answer seemed obvious, you feared you weren't understanding him correctly.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m tryin’ to say that I care about you. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And I know I’m not the easiest guy to be around, but… you make me wanna try. Make me wanna be better.”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Logan…” were you imagining things? Were you actually by the windowstill, all alone, dying from the cold Logan warned you about? The cold that looked gorgeous from inside a warm room but was vicious in its beauty, killing you because you wouldn't listen and close the window? Were you just taking your last breath, your mind tricking you into dreaming about what could be?

“I know I’m probably messin’ this up" he swallowed deeply, his voice rough with emotion. “But I had to tell you. Couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

His words were real, his warmth, his soft breath fanning across your face. You weren't dying. You were just starting to live. “You’re not messing anything up" you shook your head, voice breaking slightly.

His eyes searched yours and for the first time, you saw a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. “You mean that?”

Instead of answering, you leaned up, closing the space between you. Logan froze for a split second before his arms came around you, pulling you close into his lap as your lips met in a kiss that felt like coming home after a harsh and straining day out in the cold.

It was soft and tentative at first, but as the seconds stretched on, it deepened, the barriers between you dissolving like snow in the sun. Your hands laid flat against his chest, feeling the warm and fuzzy fabric underneath your fingers. Logan sighed from his nose as the kiss deepened, a quiet, longing noise forming in the back of his throat.

When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the silence of the room.

“I care about you too” you whispered. “More than I can even put into words.”

Logan let out a soft, shaky laugh, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Guess that makes us both pretty bad at talkin’ about feelings.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of relief. “Maybe. But I think we’re doing okay.”

Logan nodded “Better than okay" he murmured, pressing another kiss to your mouth. He was already getting addicted to this.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of warmth and quiet joy. Logan stayed by your side, his hand never straying far from yours as the two of you talked about everything and nothing. You felt like two teenagers that had sneaked away from everyone else to enjoy the thrill of making out and cuddling like in a sappy romance novel.

By the time the first light of dawn crept through the windows, you found yourselves curled up on the couch together, a soft blanket draped over you both. Logans arm was around your shoulders, and your head rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long while. The sweater he still hadn't taken off (and wouldn’t for a while) acting like a soft pillow under your face.

“Good night, darlin'” Logan murmured, his lips brushing against your hair before he looked out the window, the sun rising slowly. He knew it wouldn’t take long before the others flodded the room, but he wanted you to sleep and rest, even if it was just for an hour. He kind of felt bad for keeping you up until the sun literally rose again, but how was he supposed to fall asleep when he just found out you loved him back?

“Good night, Logan” you whispered, smiling as you closed your eyes.

For the first time, you knew without a doubt that this was where you were meant to be - wrapped in Logans arms, your hearts stitched together like the threads of a handmade gift, stronger and more beautiful for the care put into every moment you shared with him.

I've never tried putting dividers like this before, how do we like it? I am also sorry that I am not quite posting this on christmas anymore. I just always get the ideas so late and randomly that I can't get it out on time.

I can't type anymore bc my hands are literally that cold and now, update, i read over it and corrected some mistakes. If you still see any, im sorry😔🙏🏻 I've fallen you all

Merry christmas🎄🎀

[xoxo-sarah]

Okay here is another idea because I love spamming you with them! It’s for our Stevie boy! Okay so basically neither Steve or the reader have had good role models for relationships. So because of this they kinda have a bad relationship, but know this so they sit down and talk and make a promise not to yell or storm out. So they fight and the reader is like whatever and leaves but Steve yells. It’s just their way of showing they care(the reader doesn’t like to fight so they leave to cool off and Steve needs to talk it out). Again this one is really just for me because I’ve never had a good relationship and my one relationship I had I dipped when things got semi hard 🤦🏼‍♀️ but like she tries that after they had their talk and Stevie won’t let her blah blah happy ending please because I need happy endings

Promises Between Us

(The headers have nothing to do with the fic but I didn't know what else to put)

↝a/n: quick fic. thank you for requesting! Enjoy 🩷 ily 💋

↝pairing:Steve Harrington x fem!reader

↝warning: relationship problems, bad family issues, parent issues/ arguing, Steve's parents mentioned, crying, not proofread & rushed

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.23.24

Steve was terrible at relationships.

He had never been good at them and would let you know if you were to ask him.

Growing up, he didn't have the best examples to follow. His parents were always away, and when they were home, they barely spoke to each other. Out in public, they had the "white picket fence and happy couple" fecade perfected. Honestly, it irritated how fake his parents were. They were the perfect couple to anyone who looked their way.

You, on the other hand, had your own set of issues. Your parents fought constantly, and you learned early on that sometimes it was better to just walk away. All the grief you felt as a child, stuck with you through your children, teenage years, and the start of your adulthood. It probably always will.

When Steve and the you started dating, you both knew it wouldn't be easy. You both cared deeply for each other, and tried to make it work with everything in your being.

But the past made it hard to navigate the complexities of a relationship, some days. You had your fair share of arguments, and more often than not, they ended with you storming out and Steve yelling after you. You always came back, and Steve always apologized. He made sure to make it up to you. You spent more time together, talking, asking each other about the other's day. Anything to erase what was said in the heat of the moment.

Today was one of those days where it was all too much. Steve came home from work, pissed. You simply woke up in a mood. Those two didn't mix well together. After one small comment, it all unravelled.

"You're not listening!" The words echoed through the house, yet seemingly not making their way to Steve, who stood heaving in fury.

"I don't want to deal with this right now- i shouldn't have to!" Steve scrubbed his jaw, feeling it clench.

You two stood across from each other, tired, yet too stubborn to see it from the other perspective.

Closing your eyes, you sighed, "Whatever, Steve." And walked to the bedroom, already getting ready for bed at 5 P.M. Steve stayed in the living room, grabbing something to drink. You both needed to cool off, and that's exactly what you were going to do.

Steve tiptoed his way to the bedroom, with night having already fallen. He stood in the door way, watching as you read a book while leaning against the bedframe. His chest fell.

"I'm sorry."

When you looked up, Steve immediately wanted to kick himself. Around your eyes was red, along with under your nose. The tissue box on the bedside table didn't help extinguish his assumption. You had been crying.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have brought it home and taken it out on you." He moved forward, toward you. Putting the book down, you sniffled, before nodding.

"Yeah, and I should've been more understanding." You watched as he sat beside you on the bed, before he grabbed your hand.

" I don't like arguing."

So, you both made the promise: no more yelling, no more storming out. You would talk things through, no matter how hard it got.

But promises are easier made than kept.

A few weeks later, you found themselves in the middle of another argument. This time, it was about something trivial, but it quickly escalated. You felt the familiar urge to leave, to cool off before things got worse. The living door invited you more and more as the argument escalated. Air, and quiet. That's all you wanted in the moment.

"Whatever, Steve," you said, turning towards the door.

"Wait," Steve's voice broke, desperate. His dark eyes were pleading, any hint of anger long gone. "We promised, remember?"

You stopped, hand on the doorknob. "I just need some space."

"No," he said, stepping closer. "We need to talk this out. I can't lose you."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "I don't want to fight." The air that had become thick from the tension, released. Vulnerability aired out the living room, nipping at your fingertips like the cold weather in December.

"Neither do I," he said softly, taking your hand. "But leaving won't solve anything. Please, stay."

Looking into his eyes, you saw the sincerity there. Slowly, you nodded. "Okay."

You sat back down, and for the first time, you both really talked. You shared your fears, your insecurities, and your hopes for the future. It wasn't easy, but it was a start.

By the end of the night, you were both exhausted, but there was a new understanding between you two. You knew it wouldn't be perfect, but you were willing to try.

Steve pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.

"Me neither," you replied, resting your head against his chest.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[lila-lou]

✨Family✨

Summary: This Christmas is your first with Emily, Beau’s teenage daughter. Between her shy smiles and sharp wit, she’s learning to trust you, and you’re creating a home together.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Beau x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 3377

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. ❤️

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts, filling the air with a cozy warmth that made the chill of the Montana winter seem far away. Emily stood next to you, carefully arranging cookies on a tray. Her focus was intense, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated on making each cookie look just right. It was the kind of detail about her that always made you smile—a reminder that, even at sixteen, she still had that playful spark beneath her teenage independence.

“You think Dad’s gonna notice if I sneak one of these?”, she asked, glancing at you with a sly grin.

You laughed, rolling out another batch of dough. “Oh, he’ll notice. Beau’s got a sixth sense when it comes to cookies. Besides, don’t you want to save some for tonight?”.

Emily groaned dramatically, clearly unimpressed with your reasoning. “Fine. But the gingerbread man with the crooked smile is mine. Calling it now”.

Through the frosted kitchen window, you could see Beau and Cole outside in the snow. Your three-year-old son was bundled up so tightly in his navy-blue coat and matching hat that he looked like a tiny snowball himself. He was giggling uncontrollably as Beau helped him roll a massive snowball for the base of their snowman. Beau’s laughter was just as loud, echoing across the yard, a warm contrast to the cold landscape. You could see the way his breath fogged in the air as he crouched down, ruffling Cole’s hair every time he clapped his mittens together in excitement.

Emily noticed you watching them and sighed, setting the spatula down. “They’re having way more fun than we are. Why do we get kitchen duty?”.

You smirked and nudged her playfully with your elbow. “Because you agreed cookies were more important than frostbite”.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “That was before I realized how boring baking is. I don’t know how you do this for fun”.

“It’s not boring if you put your heart into it”, you teased. “Besides, you can’t tell me those cookies don’t look amazing. You’re doing great”.

Emily looked at the tray, a hint of pride creeping into her expression. “Yeah, I guess they do. And I’ll admit… it’s kinda nice being here”. Her voice softened at the end, almost like she was testing the words out.

You paused, glancing at her carefully. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment for Emily. This was her first Christmas with you, Beau, and Cole—her first away from her mom. While she didn’t talk about it much, you could tell it weighed on her. The little things gave her away: the far-off look she got sometimes, the way she’d hesitate before fully relaxing around you.

“I’m glad you’re here”, you said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s different, but it wouldn’t feel right without you”.

Emily shrugged, but you caught the flicker of a smile. “Thanks. I mean, it’s not bad or anything… I just—”. She stopped herself and focused back on the cookies. “It’s nice to feel like part of something, you know?”.

Your heart ached for her in that moment. She’d been through so much this past year, but she’d held it together with a strength that amazed you. “You are part of something”, you said gently. “And we wouldn’t trade you for the world”.

Emily didn’t respond, but her shoulders relaxed just a little, and that was enough.

Outside, Beau lifted Cole onto his shoulders, spinning him around as the little boy shouted with glee. The snowman project had apparently been abandoned in favor of an impromptu snowball fight, with Beau pretending to dodge the tiny handfuls of snow Cole tossed at him. The sight made you laugh, and Emily turned to the window, her expression softening as she watched her dad and Cole.

“They’re such dorks”, she said, but there was no malice in her voice—just affection.

“That they are”, you agreed, sliding the tray of cookies into the oven. “But they’re our dorks”.

Emily smiled, a small, genuine one that made you feel like maybe things were starting to fall into place. This Christmas might not be what any of you had imagined, but for the first time, it felt like the start of something real, something good.

Eventually, you set the rolling pin down, brushing flour off your hands as a mischievous grin spread across your face. Emily looked up, raising a curious brow.

“What?”, she asked, watching as you wiped your hands on a towel.

You nodded toward the door, your grin growing. “Come on”, you said, a playful spark in your voice. “Let’s show them what a real snowball fight looks like”.

Emily’s face lit up, and for the first time all day, she looked completely carefree. “Oh, you’re on”, she said, already tugging her sleeves down to head for her coat.

The two of you quickly bundled up, Emily grabbing a pair of mismatched gloves and tugging them on as you zipped up your jacket. The moment you stepped outside, the icy air nipped at your cheeks, but the laughter from Beau and Cole made it easy to forget the cold. They were crouched behind a pile of snow, clearly in the middle of their “battle”. Cole had a snowball in each hand, and Beau was dramatically shielding himself, shouting, “Mercy! Mercy!”, as Cole pelted him with what looked like more powder than ice.

“They’re not even going to see it coming”, you whispered to Emily, who crouched beside you, already scooping up a handful of snow.

“Divide and conquer?”, she suggested, her grin matching yours.

“Always”, you replied.

Together, you moved swiftly, using the yard’s uneven snow piles as cover. You watched as Emily targeted Beau first, her snowball hitting him square in the shoulder. He whipped around, stunned.

“What the—”, he started, before you launched your own snowball, catching him in the chest.

“Reinforcements?!”, Beau shouted, laughing as he scrambled to grab snow. “Oh, you two are in trouble now!”.

Cole, catching on to the new dynamic, screamed with delight. “Get ‘em, Daddy!”.

But Emily was fast. She ducked behind a snowbank, expertly avoiding Beau’s counterattack. Meanwhile, you were busy distracting him, tossing snowball after snowball, laughing so hard you could barely aim.

“You think you can take me down?”, Beau called, his Southern drawl coming out in full force as he lobbed a snowball in your direction. “I’m the king of snowball fights!”.

“King? You’ve already been dethroned!”, you shouted back, dodging his throw and quickly crafting another snowball.

Emily, ever the opportunist, took advantage of Beau’s focus on you. She came out of nowhere, launching a snowball right at the back of his head. The soft thud of snow hitting his hat was met with a stunned silence before he turned slowly, his mouth open in mock betrayal.

“Et tu, Emily?”, he said dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.

“Every man—or dad—for himself!”, Emily shouted, laughing so hard she could barely keep her balance.

Meanwhile, Cole was toddling over to you with his own version of a snowball, which was really just a clump of powdery fluff. He tossed it at your leg, giggling uncontrollably. “Gotcha, Mommy!”.

“Oh no, I’m hit!”, you cried, pretending to stumble backward into the snow. Cole squealed with joy, climbing onto your legs to “finish the job”.

Beau took the opportunity to scoop Emily into his arms, spinning her around as she shrieked, “No fair! No fair!”. The laughter echoed across the yard, a perfect mix of chaos and joy.

By the time you all called a truce, your cheeks were red, your gloves soaked, and your sides ached from laughing. Beau walked over, his arm slinging around your shoulders as Cole clung to his leg, still chattering about his “big win”. Emily joined you, shaking the snow out of her hair and grinning like she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Well”, Beau said, his voice warm and low, “I don’t know about you, but I think that might’ve been the best snowball fight this family’s ever seen”.

“It’s the only snowball fight this family’s ever seen”, Emily pointed out, but the teasing tone in her voice made it clear she’d loved every second.

You leaned into Beau, glancing at the three of them, your little makeshift family. “Well, I guess we’ve set the bar pretty high, haven’t we?”.

Beau smiled down at you, his eyes soft. “Good thing we’ve got plenty more years to top it”.

And as the four of you trudged back inside, shedding wet coats and boots, you couldn’t help but feel it: the warmth, the laughter, the love. This was Christmas. This was home.

Inside, the warmth of the house quickly thawed the chill from your cheeks. Snow clung stubbornly to Cole’s little hat and mittens, and his face was flushed bright red from the cold and laughter. Beau grinned as he scooped him up, effortlessly hoisting him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Cole squealed, kicking his legs playfully as Beau said, “Alright, buddy, time to get you warmed up and in some dry clothes before you turn into a popsicle”.

You followed them up the stairs with Emily trailing behind, her footsteps light and quiet as she watched the scene unfold. Beau pushed the bathroom door open with his elbow, still holding Cole, and plopped him down on the edge of the tub. The little boy wiggled as you knelt down next to him, gently brushing the snowflakes from his hair.

“Hold still, Cole”, you said, laughing as he squirmed. “We’re trying to help you, you know”.

“But I’m not cold!”, Cole protested, giggling as Beau wrestled with the tiny, wet socks that clung stubbornly to his feet.

“Not cold, huh?”, Beau teased, holding up one soggy sock like it was evidence in a trial. “Then what do you call this, Mr. Snowman? A fashion statement?”.

Cole’s laughter filled the small bathroom as he tried to kick his feet free, but Beau caught them easily, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve been like this since you were born, you know. Always wiggling around, never staying still”.

“Cause I’m fast!”, Cole declared proudly, pumping his little fists in the air.

“You’re definitely something”, Beau muttered, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he finally got the last sock off. “Now, let’s get you into some dry clothes before you speed your way into a cold”.

Emily leaned casually against the doorway, her arms crossed as she watched the two of you fuss over Cole. There was something soft in her expression, though she tried to mask it with her usual teenage coolness.

“You two are such parents”, she said, her tone laced with mock judgment.

You glanced back at her with a smirk. “Is that a bad thing?”.

Emily shrugged, but there was no edge to it. “No. Just… funny, I guess. You’re both so good at it”.

Her words made you pause for a moment, your heart swelling. It wasn’t often that Emily said things like that—openly kind and vulnerable. You met her gaze and gave her a warm smile. “Well, we’ve had a lot of practice with this one”, you said, nodding toward Cole, who was now giggling uncontrollably as Beau tickled his belly while trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Beau looked up at Emily, his grin wide. “And for the record, I’d say we’re pretty good at being your parents too. Even if you don’t let us put your socks on”.

Emily rolled her eyes, but you caught the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a smile. “I think I can manage my socks, thanks”.

“Good to know”, Beau replied, finally managing to get Cole into a clean, dry shirt. He scooped the little boy back into his arms and stood, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Cole’s head. “There. Warm and toasty, just like a marshmallow”.

“I’m a marshmallow!”, Cole shouted, making you and Beau laugh.

Emily chuckled too, though she tried to hide it behind a shake of her head. “You’re all ridiculous”, she said, turning toward the hallway.

You stood, brushing your hands on your jeans, and caught up with her as Beau carried Cole back down. “Ridiculous, maybe”, you said softly, nudging her shoulder with yours. “But happy. And that’s what matters, right?”.

Emily glanced at you, her expression softening again, though she quickly masked it with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sappy on me, okay?”.

“Too late”, you teased, following her down the hall. But deep down, you knew she felt it too—this warmth, this connection, this new sense of family.

As the evening settled in, the house glowed with the soft light of the Christmas tree, its twinkling bulbs casting warm colors across the room. The scent of cinnamon lingered from earlier in the day, mixing with the woodsy aroma of the tree. The four of you were sprawled on the couch, cozied under a thick, patchwork blanket.

Beau, of course, had taken up the role of ultimate family snuggler. He sat in the middle, his left arm wrapped firmly around Emily, who had only agreed to the arrangement after a dramatic eye-roll and a mumbled, “Fine, but just this once”. Despite her protests, she leaned into him, her head resting lightly against his shoulder.

You lay on his other side, his right arm draped around your shoulders as you nestled close, your legs tucked up under you. Cole, ever the little king of chaos, had stretched himself out across both your laps. His head rested on Emily’s knee, his little hands clutching his favorite stuffed dinosaur, while his feet occasionally kicked up as he babbled about the cookies he’d eaten and the snowman that “almost stayed up”.

“Almost doesn’t count, little man”, Beau teased, ruffling Cole’s messy hair. “Next time, we’re getting it to stand no matter what. That’s a promise”.

Cole giggled, his voice sleepy but full of excitement. “You’re gonna help me, Daddy?”.

“Always”, Beau said, his voice soft and steady. “Always, buddy”.

You smiled at the exchange, feeling the warmth of Beau’s hand rubbing small circles on your shoulder. This was it—the quiet, perfect moment you’d been hoping for all day. Emily glanced at you briefly, catching your expression, and she smirked in that way only a teenager could.

“What?”, she asked, her tone playful but curious.

“Nothing”, you said softly, though the smile on your face betrayed you. “Just… this”.

Beau’s hand stilled for a moment, and he looked down at you, his gaze filled with a tenderness that never failed to make your chest ache. “Yeah”, he said quietly, “this is pretty good, isn’t it?”.

Emily groaned in mock disgust. “Oh, come on. You two are so gross sometimes”.

“You love it”, Beau said, leaning down to plant a quick, noisy kiss on the top of her head. She wrinkled her nose but didn’t pull away, and you noticed the small smile tugging at her lips.

“Do not”, she muttered, clearly lying.

Cole let out a loud yawn, his little arms stretching wide as he snuggled deeper into the blanket. “I love it”, he announced proudly, his words slightly muffled by the stuffed dinosaur he was still clutching.

As the evening wore on, Cole’s babbling grew softer, his eyelids drooping as the warmth of the blanket and the steady rhythm of Beau’s voice lulled him closer to sleep. He shifted, nestling deeper into the crook of your lap, his stuffed dinosaur still clutched tightly to his chest. You brushed a hand gently over his hair, smoothing down the messy tufts that stuck up from his earlier adventures in the snow.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Cole’s sleepy voice broke the quiet moment. “Emmy?”, he asked softly, his words slurring a little with tiredness.

Emily’s head popped up, her eyes widening slightly as she looked down at him. “Yeah, bud?”, she replied, her voice uncertain but kind.

“Will you read me a bedtime story tonight?”, Cole asked, his little voice so sweet and tentative it made your heart squeeze.

Emily blinked, caught off guard. “Me? Not Mommy or Daddy?”.

Cole shook his head against your knee, yawning widely. “I want you. Please, Emmy?”.

The room fell quiet for a moment, everyone waiting for Emily’s response. She glanced at you, then at Beau, like she wasn’t sure she was the right choice. Beau’s expression was warm and encouraging, and he gave her a little nudge with his elbow. “Looks like you’ve got a fan, kiddo”, he said softly, his tone teasing but gentle.

Emily hesitated for only a moment longer before giving a small shrug, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her. “Yeah, okay. Sure, I’ll read to you”, she said, her voice carefully casual.

Cole’s sleepy face lit up in a soft smile. “Yay”, he murmured.

As Emily and Cole disappeared upstairs, their voices trailing off as Emily tried to convince Cole that she wasn’t going to do all the silly voices, you turned back toward Beau, who was already shifting under the blanket. Before you could say a word, he stood up, effortlessly scooping you into his arms with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Beau!”, you laughed, clutching at his shoulders. “What are you doing?”.

“Kid’s occupied, we’ve got at least twenty minutes”, he said, his voice low and teasing as he headed toward the basement stairs. “I’m taking advantage of a rare opportunity”.

“For what?!”, you giggled, your heart racing more from the way he was looking at you than the movement.

“To spend some uninterrupted time with my wife”, he replied, his drawl making the words feel softer and warmer than they already were. “That’s what Christmas miracles are all about, right?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, resting your head against his shoulder as he descended the stairs. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”.

“Yeah”, he said, his grin widening. “But also horny".

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he nudged the guest room door open with his foot and stepped inside. The room was small but cozy, its faint glow coming from the single lamp on the nightstand. Beau set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your waist as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours.

“Finally”, he murmured, his voice dropping even lower. “A little peace and quiet”.

You raised a brow, still smiling. “You think twenty minutes is enough for peace and quiet? With our kids upstairs?”.

Beau smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll take what I can get. Besides, I don’t need long to remind you how much I love you”.

The warmth in his voice melted any teasing retort you might have had. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “You’re pretty good at that, you know”.

“Good”, he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. “Because I plan on doing it for the rest of my life”.

And for a moment, the world upstairs faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in the quiet, perfect stillness of the moment. It wasn’t long, of course, before the faint sound of Cole’s giggles echoed down the stairs, followed by Emily’s exaggerated sigh as she tried to coax him to sleep. But for those few minutes, it was enough—just you and Beau, tucked away from the chaos, stealing a little piece of Christmas magic for yourselves.

———————————

A/N: Let´s welcome Beau to the family. Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373

[deansbeer]

𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐒 SKIES & 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 TIES

001. ARE WE MORE THAN FRIENDS? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ִ ݁ ♡ .

✸ 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔; four months after you and jensen met.

PAIRING. cowboy!jensen x female reader ꒱

SYNOPSIS. it's been four month since you and jensen met during that stormy december, and now he's around a lot more. between family dinners, stolen moments, and clearing the air about daisy, things between you and jensen are getting sweeter—and a whole lot more complicated.

WARNING(S). fluff | hand-holding | forehead kisses | flirting | romantic tension | developing feelings | playful family teasing | confrontation (toward daisy) | made-up rumors | sisters' tease reader but r supportive of the blossoming relationship | dads' subtle matchmaking attempts | extended family (jensen's family) | past insecurities | self-consciousness | mutual pining | animal interactions (baby foal) | country lifestyle | ranch work references | rural texas.

kari yaps. merry xmas eve! my lil gift to u for the holidays. teehee, i'm already so obsessed w these two, not even kidding. this one is a lil longer than the prologue (obviously) so ur in for a ride !!! i want cowboy!jensen n his charming fine self <3333 yeehaw! 🏇 edit. i don't like how it came out, so im sorry, if it's shitty compared to the prologue :((( + im not feeling as festive & have been crying since earlier over it. anyway, i would hate to ruin anyone else's holiday spirit, so lemme just stop there <3 with that said, i hope ur all enjoying christmas, my loves. and to those who don't celebrate, i hope ur having an amazing day <3

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ୨ৎ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘.

APRIL in texas brought wildflowers and warm breezes, painting the ranch in vibrant colors that made everything feel new again. four exact months had passed since that stormy december day when jensen first walked into your life, and somehow everything was different while staying exactly the same.

"he's coming over again?" hannah teased from her perch on the kitchen counter, watching you fidget with your hair in the reflection of the microwave door. "that's the third time this week."

"his dad and our dad are friends," you muttered, though you couldn't hide the flush creeping up your neck. "they're working on something."

kimberly snorted from the kitchen table. "yeah, working on getting you two married off."

"shut up, kim!"

"girls," your mom warned, but her eyes were twinkling as she kneaded dough for her famous cinnamon rolls. "leave your sister alone. though i must say, alan has been mighty pleased with how well you two get along."

you groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. "can we please talk about literally anything else?"

the sound of tires on gravel saved you from further torment. through the window, you could see alan's truck pulling up, jensen climbing out of the passenger side door. your heart did that annoying little flip it always did when you saw him now, but at least you'd learned to hide it better.

"sweetheart," your mom called as you headed for the door, "why don't you show jensen those new foals while your dad and his dad talk business?"

"subtle, mom. real subtle."

but you were already out the door, the spring air warm on your skin as you jogged down the porch steps. jensen met you halfway, that easy smile of his making your stomach flutter.

"hey," he said softly, like he always did, like it was just for you.

"hey yourself." you nodded toward the stables. "want to see the new additions?"

he fell into step beside you, close enough that your arms brushed. "lead the way."

the past four months had smoothed out most of the awkwardness between you, replaced it with something comfortable but charged with possibility. you'd learned things about him—how he took his coffee (black, two sugars), his favorite time of day (dawn, when the ranch was just waking up), how his laugh changed depending on what made him smile.

"you know," he starts, as you reached the stables, "my aunt martha's been asking about you."

you laughed, remembering the energetic woman from last month's family barbecue. "is she still convinced i need her secret recipe for peach cobbler?"

"she says, and i quote, 'that girl needs to know how to make a proper cobbler if she's gonna be part of this family.'"

your steps faltered slightly, but jensen pretended not to notice. that was another thing you'd learned about him—he knew when to push and when to let things breathe.

"your family's really taken a shine to me, huh?" you said, trying to keep your voice light as you led him to the newest foal's stall.

"can you blame them?" he leaned against the stable door, watching as you checked on the baby horse. "you're pretty easy to like."

before you could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air. "jensen! i thought that was your truck i saw!"

the happy bubble around you and jensen burst at daisy's sharp voice. she stood at the stable entrance like she owned it, her blonde hair perfectly curled despite the texas heat, wearing a sundress that seemed impractical for a ranch visit. your stomach twisted—she looked exactly like the kind of girl who belonged next to jensen.

"daisy." jensen's voice was flat, nothing like the warm tone he'd been using with you moments ago. his shoulders tensed, and he shifted slightly, putting himself between you and her.

"i've been trying to catch you at your place," she said, her boots clicking against the stable floor as she walked closer. each step felt deliberate, calculated. "daddy keeps saying you're never around anymore." her eyes flicked to you, a quick dismissive glance that made your skin crawl. "now i see why."

"been busy," jensen said shortly. you could see the way his jaw clenched, the way it did when he was holding back words. he turned back to you, deliberately showing daisy his back. "speaking of, you were gonna show me those training techniques you mentioned?"

daisy's perfectly painted lips curved into a sneer. "i guess the rumors about you two are true, then? funny, i always thought you had better taste, jensen."

"excuse me?" the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

jensen's hand found yours, squeezing gently. "there aren't any rumors, daisy," he said, his voice stern in a way you'd never heard before. "and even if there were, it wouldn't be any of your business. never has been."

she flushed, anger flashing across her face. "i just thought—"

"you thought wrong," he cut her off. "there was never a 'we', daisy. you decided there was something between us without ever asking me what i wanted. you showed up at my ranch uninvited, tried to insert yourself into my family, and spread rumors when i made it clear that i wasn't interested."

her composure began to crack. "that's not—i never—"

"you told half the county we were dating," jensen continued, his voice steady but angry. "even went as far as making things uncomfortable for everyone, including your dad. and now you're here, on private property, trying to do it again?"

"jensen—"

"you're wrong, daisy," he said firmly. "now, if you'll excuse us, we've got work to do. i'm sure you can find your way out."

daisy's face contorted with anger and embarrassment. "this isn't over," she spat, but her voice wavered. "daddy won't be happy about how you're treating me."

"your daddy knows exactly how i feel," jensen replied calmly. "has for months. why do you think he stopped bringing you around?"

she opened her mouth, closed it, then spun on her heel and stormed off. you could hear her volkswagen beetle engine rev aggressively as she peeled out of the ranch.

silence fell in the stable, broken only by the soft nickering of horses. jensen's hand was still holding yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your skin.

"i'm sorry about that," he said finally, turning to face you. "i should've handled that situation better months ago."

"you don't have to apologize," you reassured him. "it's not your fault she..."

"got obsessed?" he supplied with a wry smile. "yeah, well. maybe if i'd been clearer from the start about where my interests lay, she wouldn't have gotten the wrong idea."

your heart skipped. "your interests?"

his free hand came up to cup your cheek, and suddenly you couldn't remember why you'd ever worried about daisy at all.

"listen," he moved closer, his eyes serious. "whatever you heard about me and daisy... it wasn't true. never was. she just... decided things were a certain way, and no matter how many times i told her different, she wouldn't listen."

"oh." you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. "i just thought... i mean, everyone said—"

"everyone says a lot of things," he stepped closer, his fingers catching your chin. "but the only girl i've been interested in since last december is standing right here, trying real hard not to look at me."

your eyes snapped to his, heat flooding your face. "jensen..."

"dinner's ready!" kimberly's voice rang out across the yard, making you both jump apart.

jensen laughed, shaking his head. "your sisters have terrible timing."

dinner at your house had become a regular thing, both families crowded around the large oak table your grandfather had built. your mom had outdone herself tonight—pot roast, fresh rolls, and three different kinds of pie.

"this is incredible, melanie," alan said to your mom, helping himself to seconds. "you've outdone yourself."

"oh, it's nothing special," your mom waved him off, but she was beaming. "though, i did try that new seasoning donna suggested."

jensen's mom smiled warmly. "i told you it would make all the difference."

you were seated between jensen and hannah, trying to ignore the knowing looks both your sisters kept shooting your way. jensen's knee pressed against yours under the table, a steady warmth that made it hard to focus on your food.

"remember when these two first met?" your dad chuckled, gesturing between you and jensen. "her in those pajamas of hers, looking like she'd seen a ghost."

"dad!" you groaned as everyone laughed.

"oh, i remember," alan grinned. "jensen came home that very next day talking about—"

"hey, dad," jensen cut in quickly, his ears reddening. "maybe we should talk about something else?"

hannah leaned over to whisper in your ear. "bet he told his daddy all about how pretty y'looked in those shorts."

you elbowed her sharply, but you couldn't help smiling.

after dinner, everyone migrated to the back porch. the texas sunset painted the sky in pinks and purples, the air cooling just enough to be comfortable. you found yourself sitting on the porch swing with jensen, your families' voices creating a comfortable backdrop of chatter.

"so," you said softly, "what exactly did you tell your dad that night?"

jensen groaned. "you're not gonna let that go, are ya?"

"nope."

he was quiet for a moment, then he spoke up, "i told him i'd met the prettiest girl i'd ever seen, even if she was wearing pajamas and looked like she wanted to murder me."

"i did not!"

"sweetheart, you looked at me like i was the devil himself."

"well, you were smirking at me!"

"because you were adorable," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "still are."

before you could respond, kimberly's voice floated over, "you two want some privacy?"

"kim!" you hissed, but jensen just laughed, his arm sliding along the back of the swing behind you.

"nah," he answered coolly. "just enjoying the view."

your mom then appeared in the doorway, holding a fresh pie. "who wants dessert?"

as everyone headed inside, jensen caught your hand. "hey."

"yeah?"

"just... i'm glad your dad made you help that day. even if you did try to hide from me for weeks after."

you ducked your head, embarrassed. "well, to be fair, i thought you were dating daisy."

"never," he said firmly. "not her, not anyone. been waiting for the right girl."

"is that so?"

his thumb brushed over your knuckles, just like it had that night. "yeah."

"jensen! honey, you want apple or cherry?" his mom called.

he squeezed your hand once before standing, pulling you up with him. "we should get in there before they send out a search party."

"or before my sisters start making more comments?"

"that too." he tugged you closer, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead that left you stunned. "come on, pretty girl. let's go face the firing squad."

later that night, after both families had gone home and your sisters had thoroughly exhausted their teasing, you lay in bed thinking about everything. your mom poked her head in, smiling knowingly.

"you have a good day?"

"mom..."

she sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair back like she used to when you were a little girl. "you know, i remember when i first met your father. he had that same look in his eyes that jensen gets when he looks at you."

"mama," you whined, but you were smiling.

"i'm just saying," she stood, heading for the door. "some things are worth taking a chance on."

as you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom, you thought about jensen's words, about waiting for the right girl. maybe, just maybe, your mom was right.

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 taglist. @deanswidow @a1ecmcdowell @beausling @titsout4jackles @frosttbitessam @aileenunfiltered @deansbite @jasvtsc @fallbhind @ostaramoon @lacydollette @ultravi0lence14 @rubyvhs @s4wdvator @depressionbarbie2023 @spcncershasting @severe-mental-illness @lmg14 @bluestrd @starkeysprincess ◟ ☆ ݁ ⋆ 🏇 ˚⊹ ˖ ﾟ✶ ݁. comment OR send an ask to be added / removed !!!!!

𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍 © 2024. ✶ please DO NOT copy or plagiarize my works.

[prentissmultiverse]

Wrapped Up in You

Spending Christmas morning alone was never part of your plan, but neither was showing up at Emily Prentiss’s doorstep with a gift. Little did you know, Emily had a "gift" of her own to give.

tw: smut, age gap, power dynamics

words: 5155

The house was cold when Emily woke up. The central heating hummed faintly, but it always seemed to struggle against the chill of her old townhouse in the winter. She reached out to the other side of the bed instinctively, a habit she hadn’t been able to shake after years of sleeping alone. Empty. Always empty.

Emily sighed, running a hand over her face before sitting up. It was Christmas morning, but it felt like any other day. The quiet was oppressive, the kind that reminded her just how solitary her life had become outside of work. She loved her team—they were family—but Christmas mornings like this always reminded her of the stark contrast between the bustle of the BAU and the stillness of her own life.

She got up slowly, pulling on a thick sweater over her pajama top before shuffling to the kitchen. Coffee was her first priority, the smell filling the space and warming it in a way that the heating never could. As she poured herself a mug and leaned against the counter, her gaze drifted to the small Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. She’d decorated it half-heartedly a few weeks ago—ornaments, a few strings of lights—but it only served to amplify the sense of loneliness in the room.

Emily sighed again, taking a sip of her coffee and mentally preparing herself for the long day ahead. She slipped out of her pajamas and into slack pants and a comfortable silk blouse, but she had no plans, no calls to make. Just her and the quiet. She was about to retreat to the couch with yet another mug of coffee when a knock at the door startled her.

She froze for a moment, her brow furrowing in confusion. Who would be visiting her? Rossi, maybe? No, he had his family to celebrate with. Curious—and admittedly a little cautious—she set her coffee down and made her way to the door. Peeking through the peephole, her breath hitched.

It was you.

You were bundled up against the cold, holding a small, neatly wrapped gift in your hands. Your cheeks were flushed from the winter air, and you looked almost hesitant, like you weren’t sure if this had been a good idea after all. Emily’s chest tightened as she opened the door.

“Y/N?” she asked, her voice thick with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Your eyes lit up when you saw her, and that simple reaction made something in her chest ache. “Merry Christmas,” you said softly, shifting the gift in your hands. “I, um… I didn’t want you to spend the day alone. And I figured out that, well, I have no one to spend the day with as well… so yeah, that we could maybe spend it together?” You rambled.

Emily blinked, momentarily stunned. She had spent years building walls, learning how to be okay on her own. But here you were, standing on her doorstep with a shy smile and a gesture so kind it made her throat tighten. “Come in,” she said finally, stepping aside to let you in. “You must be freezing.”

You slipped past her, your coat brushing against her arm, and she closed the door behind you. The sudden warmth of the house seemed to relax you, and you unwrapped your scarf as you glanced around. “Your tree is cute,” you said, nodding toward the corner of the living room.

Emily huffed a small laugh, crossing her arms. “That’s generous of you. I haven’t had much time for decorating.”

You turned to her, holding out the gift with both hands. “This is for you.”

Her eyes flicked down to the box, and she hesitated before taking it. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said, her voice softer now.

“I wanted to,” you replied, your gaze earnest. “You deserve something nice.”

Emily swallowed hard, her thumb brushing over the edge of the wrapping paper. The sincerity in your voice caught her off guard, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at you. “Thank you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You waved her off, looking down at your boots. “It’s no big deal.”

She smiled faintly and motioned toward the couch. “Come on, sit down. I’ll make us something warm to drink.”

You followed her into the living room, perching on the edge of the couch as she headed back to the kitchen. She busied herself making tea, the rhythmic clinking of mugs grounding her as she tried to process what was happening. It wasn’t often that people went out of their way for her, especially not someone like you. You were the youngest on the team, vibrant and full of life in a way that made her feel both protective of you and oddly envious.

When she returned, she handed you a steaming mug and sat beside you. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the tea and the faint glow of the Christmas lights creating a rare moment of peace. After a while, Emily glanced at you, her curiosity finally getting the better of her.

“You don’t have family or a boyfriend to spend Christmas with?” she asked, her tone light but genuinely curious.

Your eyes flicked up to hers, and she saw something flicker there—something vulnerable, but not quite sad. “No family close by,” you said finally, setting your mug down on the coffee table. “And no girlfriend”, you corrected her lightly.

Her heart gave an involuntary leap at your words, though she quickly pushed the thought aside. “Well,” she said, her voice softer now, “I’m glad you’re here.”

You looked at her then, your doe eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her feel like the air had shifted. “Me too,” you said quietly.

For a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of the heater. Emily wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure how to navigate the emotions swirling in her chest. But she didn’t want to break the moment, didn’t want to pull away from the warmth you had brought into her home.

Emily sat back on the couch, her hands resting on the unopened gift in her lap. Her fingers brushed over the wrapping paper absently, as if hesitant to disturb it. You noticed her quiet reluctance and leaned forward slightly, smiling.

“You can open it, you know,” you said softly, nudging her with your knee.

Her dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “I guess I’m not used to getting presents,” she admitted, a bit sheepishly.

Your heart gave a little tug at that. “Well, you’d better get used to it,” you teased lightly, leaning back against the cushions.

Emily chuckled at that, her defenses lowering just a little. “Alright,” she said, carefully peeling the wrapping paper back, taking her time as though the gift was far too precious to rush.

When she opened the box, her breath caught audibly. Inside was a necklace you had chosen: a delicate gold chain with a small, elegant charm that glimmered softly in the light. Emily stared at it for a moment, her thumb brushing against the charm, before looking up at you.

“Y/N,” she murmured, her voice low and full of something you couldn’t quite place. “This is… it’s beautiful.”

You felt a flush creeping up your neck, but you kept your voice steady. “I noticed you always wear necklaces like that, and, well… it just reminded me of you. I thought you’d like it.”

Emily’s gaze softened; her usual stoic expression replaced with something gentler, more vulnerable. “I love it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

You waved a hand dismissively, trying to brush off the praise even as warmth spread through your chest. “It’s no big deal, really. I just wanted to give you something nice.”

Emily shook her head, a small, almost wistful smile playing at her lips. “Oh, but I don’t have anything for you,” she said, her tone apologetic.

You waved her off again, laughing lightly. “I don’t need anything, Emily. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

For a moment, Emily didn’t say anything. She simply looked at you, her eyes searching yours as though trying to understand why you would go out of your way for her. Finally, she cleared her throat and held up the necklace. “Would you help me put it on?”

The question caught you off guard, but you nodded quickly. “Of course,” you said, taking the necklace from her as she turned around on the couch, her back to you.

You hesitated for a moment, your breath catching slightly as your eyes fell to her salt-and-pepper hair. Reaching out, you gently brushed her hair to the side, the soft strands slipping through your fingers as you exposed the nape of her neck. Her skin was warm, and you swore you felt a slight shiver run through her as your fingertips grazed her.

You fumbled slightly with the clasp, your nerves getting the better of you, but you managed to secure it after a moment. “There,” you said softly, letting your hands fall away from her as you smoothed her hair back into place.

Emily turned back to face you, her fingers instinctively brushing over the necklace as she smiled. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice thick with emotion.

Before you could reply, she reached out and took your hand in hers, her fingers warm and firm against yours. The gesture sent a jolt through you, and you froze, your gaze snapping to hers.

The air between you seemed to shift, crackling with an intensity that made your heart race. Emily’s grip on your hand was steady, her dark eyes searching yours with an almost unreadable expression. There was something there, something unspoken but undeniable, and it took everything in you not to look away.

“Y/N,” she began, her voice soft but certain, as though she was on the edge of saying something she couldn’t take back.

The tension hung heavy in the air, a palpable, electric charge that neither of you dared to break. Emily’s fingers brushed softly against yours, her dark eyes locked onto your face as though searching for permission, or perhaps reassurance.

She leaned in slowly, her dark eyes searching yours, hesitating for just a moment as though giving you the chance to stop her. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The second her lips brushed yours, it was as if the world stopped spinning. Her kiss was soft at first, tentative, almost uncertain. But when you responded it was like something inside her shifted. The tentative softness gave way to something deeper, more assured.

Emily’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, her palm warm against your skin as her thumb brushed gently along your jawline. The contrast between her gentle touch and the intensity of her kiss sent a shiver through you. Her fingers threaded into your hair, tugging slightly to tilt your head. Her lips moved against yours with a quiet hunger, her dominance clear but never overbearing.

You melted into her completely, your hands instinctively finding her waist and clinging to her as though she were the only thing grounding you to the moment. The faint scent of her perfume filled your senses, mixing with the faint taste of coffee and nicotine on her lips. It was intoxicating. You couldn’t get enough.

When her tongue traced your bottom lip, asking for access, you didn’t hesitate. You opened to her, allowing her to take control as the kiss grew deeper, more desperate. She explored your mouth with a slow rhythm that left you breathless. Her dominance was palpable, the way her hand in your hair tightened just slightly, the way she leaned into you, pressing you back against the couch as though she wanted to consume you entirely.

There was an unspoken understanding in the kiss, a shared loneliness that neither of you wanted to name. Maybe that’s why you didn’t pull away, why you didn’t remind yourself of the things that made this complicated—the age gap, the power dynamics, the fact that she was your boss. None of that seemed to matter right now, not when her lips were on yours and her hands were grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together as the weight of what had just happened began to settle over you. Your chest heaved, your lips tingling from the intensity of her kiss, and yet, your mind was a blur. Emily’s dark eyes searched yours, her gaze flickering with a storm of emotions—desire, vulnerability, and a touch of self-reproach.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite her words, her hand stayed where it was, cradling your face like she couldn’t bring herself to let you go.

Her words made your stomach twist, a pang of fear slicing through the haze of warmth and intimacy. Your mouth opened to say something—anything—but your thoughts jumbled in the mess of emotions swirling inside you. “I—Emily, I…” you stammered, your cheeks burning as you tried to form a coherent response.

Before you could finish, her thumb brushed lightly across your bottom lip, silencing your attempt. Her eyes softened, the corners of her lips quirking upward in the faintest of smiles. “But I don’t regret it,” she said softly, her voice low and rich with meaning. “Not even for a second.”

Your breath hitched, and the words you’d been struggling to find seemed to evaporate entirely. You stared at her, wide-eyed and flustered, your heart pounding so hard you were sure she could hear it. “I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted quietly, your voice trembling with the weight of the moment.

Emily let out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating against the quiet of the room. “You don’t have to say anything,” she murmured, her hand cupping your face gently. “Let me...”

Before you could process her words, she leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was different—bolder, more certain. The hesitation from before was gone, replaced with a quiet confidence that only Emily seemed to possess. Her lips moved against yours, coaxing you into responding despite your overwhelmed state.

Your hands found their way to her shoulders, clutching at her blouse. Every nerve in your body seemed to hum with electricity as her hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically straddling her lap. The intimacy of the position made your cheeks burn, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. Not when her kisses made you feel like you were floating, like nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment.

She broke the kiss briefly, just long enough to whisper against your lips. “You’re trembling,” she said softly, her hands squeezing your waist gently, grounding you.

“I-I am not…” you started, only to falter when her lips brushed your jawline, trailing soft, featherlight kisses down to your neck. The sensation was enough to steal the air from your lungs, and you felt yourself melt further into her touch.

Emily chuckled softly at your obvious lie, the sound low and warm, vibrating against your skin. “Liar,” she teased gently, her breath hot against your throat as her lips lingered there. “I can feel it.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the way her words sent a ripple of warmth through you. Your hands clung to her blouse, desperate for an anchor as her lips continued their gentle exploration of your neck. She took her time, her movements unhurried, as though savoring the moment. It wasn’t just the physicality of her touch—it was the tenderness behind it, the care in the way her hands steadied you even as her kisses ignited a fire under your skin.

Minutes seemed to pass in a blur, the two of you losing yourselves in each other’s warmth. Emily’s hands moved with care but purpose, sliding under your sweater to trace the soft skin of your lower back. You shivered at the contact, your fingers instinctively tangling in her salt-and-pepper hair, holding her close as your lips moved together in a rhythm that felt natural and electric all at once.

But as the intensity built, you felt a shift—a need for more, for closeness beyond what the couch could offer. Emily must have sensed it too because she broke the kiss just enough to press her forehead against yours. Her breaths were uneven, her lips still brushing yours as she spoke. “Come with me,” her voice low and inviting.

Somehow, in the haze of kisses and soft touches, the two of you found yourselves moving. You weren’t entirely sure who led the way—Emily’s hands never left you, and your lips kept seeking hers, desperate to keep the connection alive. Her touch guided you, grounding you as the overwhelming emotions threatened to sweep you away.

The journey to her bedroom was a blur, your focus entirely on her—the way her lips moved against yours, the way her hands traced gentle patterns along your back and sides, steadying you yet igniting sparks everywhere they lingered. Between kisses, you stumbled slightly, letting out a soft laugh against her mouth when you nearly tripped over your own feet.

Emily chuckled in return, the sound rich and warm. “Careful,” she murmured, her arm wrapping securely around your waist to steady you. “Can’t have you injuring yourself now.”

“Sorry,” you breathed, though your grin betrayed your lack of concern. “You’re a little distracting.”

Her lips quirked into a smirk as she pressed another kiss to your temple. “Good,” she said simply, her voice low and teasing.

The doorway to her bedroom appeared before you, though you barely registered it, too lost in the haze of her touch and the way her presence filled every corner of your awareness. Emily nudged the door open with her foot, her hand slipping from your waist to brush against your cheek, guiding your gaze back to her.

You found yourself standing at the edge of the bed, your breath hitching as Emily pulled back just enough to look at you. Her dark eyes were full of unspoken words, a flicker of hesitation mingling with the undeniable heat. She brushed a strand of hair away from your face, her fingers lingering against your skin as though committing the moment to memory.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a tenderness in her tone, a care that made your chest ache.

You nodded, though your voice caught in your throat. “I’m okay,” you managed, your hands gripping the sides of her blouse as though afraid to let go.

Her lips curved into a small smile, her thumb brushing gently along your jaw. “We don’t have to—”

“I want this,” you interrupted, surprising yourself with the certainty in your voice. “I want you.”

For a moment, she simply looked at you, her expression softening into something you couldn’t quite name. Then, without another word, she leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like a promise. She guided you onto the bed, her touch steady, cradling you as though you were something fragile and precious. The care in her movements made your chest ache in the most beautiful way, and you couldn’t help but surrender to her completely.

You gasped softly as her lips began to trail down your neck, the warmth of her breath sending shivers through you. Her hands were steady, sure, sliding beneath the hem of your sweater. She took her time, lifting the fabric inch by inch until it slipped over your head and was cast aside.

The layers between you fell away one by one, her touch gentle yet purposeful as she helped you out of each garment, stripping hers away in the process of it all. Her hands moved with a confidence that left no room for doubt, her fingertips grazing your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. Your shirt, your jeans, even your bra—each piece was removed with care, as though peeling back not just clothing but the walls you’d both held up for so long.

Her lips followed her hands, placing soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder, and the hollow at the base of your throat. Her hands, warm and sure, slid down your sides, pausing to rest at your hips as her lips ventured lower, setting your skin alight with every soft press.

By the time she finally pulled back, you were left bare beneath her, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Emily paused, her dark eyes meeting yours, and the intensity in her gaze stole whatever words you might have spoken. There was desire there, yes—but there was also something deeper, something raw and unspoken.

“You’re incredible,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion as her thumb brushed over the curve of your hip. Her words, so simple yet so genuine, sent a warmth flooding through you, chasing away any lingering doubts.

Before you could respond, her lips found yours again, her kiss slow and deep, pulling you further into the warmth and safety of her presence. Her hands moved along your sides, steady and reverent, as if grounding you in a reality that was almost too overwhelming to grasp. The soft press of her bare body against yours sent heat flooding through you, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath her touch.

Emily kissed you with an intensity that made time seem irrelevant, her lips a perfect blend of softness and urgency. She shifted, her body pressing closer to yours, and you felt the heat of her skin against your own; the delicate golden necklace you’d given her catching the faint light as it rested against her bare collarbone. The sight of it—the only thing she still wore—made your chest ache with a mix of desire and tenderness.

She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her dark eyes searching yours. There was something in her expression—a rawness, a depth of emotion that left you unable to look away. Emily hovered over you, her body straddling yours with a mix of dominance and tenderness that made your heart race. Her eyes roamed over your bare form with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“This,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, “is my gift for you.”

Her lips found your jawline, soft and warm, leaving a trail of kisses that descended to the curve of your neck. She lingered there, her tongue flicking out to taste your skin before her lips continued their journey lower. Her mouth was gliding over your collarbone and down to the valley between your breasts. Her warm breath ghosted over your skin, her lips brushing the sensitive area with featherlight kisses that made you tremble beneath her.

One hand came up to gently cup your breast, her fingers splaying out to knead the soft flesh with care. Her mouth descended to the other, her lips placing a series of teasing kisses around your nipple before she finally took it into her mouth. The warmth of her tongue against the sensitive peak sent a gasp tumbling from your lips, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as a wave of pleasure coursed through you.

Emily hummed softly against your skin, her free hand tracing gentle patterns along your side as she lavished attention on your breasts. She alternated between sucking gently and swirling her tongue over the hardened nub. When she switched to the other breast, her hand moved to replace her mouth, her fingers brushing lightly over the wet, sensitive skin she’d just left. Her lips and tongue began the same reverent exploration of your other breast, her gaze flicking up occasionally to watch your face, as if to ensure you were as lost in the moment as she was.

You couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips, your body arching further into her touch. The way she moved, the way she worshipped your body with such tenderness, made it impossible to feel anything but adored. Emily’s name left your lips in a trembling whisper, and the sound seemed to fuel her. She hummed softly, the vibrations against your skin sending a fresh wave of shivers through you. Her lips left your breast with a wet, lingering kiss, and she shifted her attention lower, her hands gliding down your sides slowly.

Her dark eyes met yours briefly, filled with a mix of desire and tenderness that made your breath catch. “Spread your legs for me, baby,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding, yet laced with a softness that left no room for resistance.

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, your legs parting under her gaze. The warmth of her hands slid along the insides of your thighs, steadying you and sending sparks of heat coursing through your veins. Emily’s lips curled into a faint smirk, her fingers squeezing gently. “Good girl,” she praised.

Her mouth began its descent again, her lips brushing soft, teasing kisses along the sensitive skin of your stomach and hips. She took her time, savoring each moment as though it were a gift for herself as much as for you. Her fingers trailed light, maddening patterns on your thighs, her touch both soothing and electric, her movements slow enough to make you ache for more.

“Emily…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, laced with need.

“I know,” she murmured against your skin, her lips pressing a kiss just above where you needed her most. “Let me take care of you.”

The sincerity in her voice unraveled something deep inside you. Her hands gripped your thighs firmly, spreading you further, and she glanced up at you once more. The raw intensity in her gaze sent a fresh wave of warmth flooding through you.

Then, without hesitation, Emily lowered herself fully between your legs, her lips finding you with a softness that stole the breath from your lungs. Teasingly, she run ger tongue along your slit, tasting your arousal. Your hips buckled up at the first contact of her warm tongue with your wetness and a soft moan escaped your lips.

Emily hummed against your heat, the vibrations sending shivers through you. She continues her lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your folds, occasionally dipping her tongue inside to lap at your sensitive walls. “So sweet”, she hums, her fingers gently spreading your lips apart to give her better access.

Her tongue delves deeper, fucking your pussy with slow strokes. She sucks on your clit, rolling it between her lips as she eats you out. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as she devours you. Each flick of her tongue, each gentle suction against your clit, sent electric jolts through your body, your moans filling the room with a symphony of pleasure.

“That’s it baby, let me hear how good I’m making you feel,” she murmured against you, her voice thick with desire, her breath hot against your slick, sensitive skin. Her words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach, as her tongue continues it’s tantalizing dance, alternating between firm flicks against your clit and slow, deep thrusts inside you.

Your hands found their way into her salt-and-pepper hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you tried to ground yourself. “Emily…” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need.

Emily’s name is a sacred mantra on your lips as she worked you into a frenzy. She can feel your walls fluttering around her tongue, your juices flowing freely. With a growl, she buried her face deeper between your thighs, sucking hard on your clit.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, but Emily’s firm grip kept you in place. “Stay still for me, baby,” she commanded gently, her tone both soothing and authoritative, making your pulse quicken.

You nodded weakly, your hands tugging lightly at her hair as you tried to hold yourself together. The pleasure was overwhelming, your body trembling under her ministrations. Emily’s fingers soon joined her mouth, two digits slipping inside you with ease, curling upward to find the spot that made you cry out her name.

“Good girl,” she praised, her voice a husky whisper against your skin. Her fingers worked you with expert precision, each stroke perfectly in tune with the flicks of her tongue against your clit. The combination of her skilled mouth and fingers sent you hurtling toward the edge, the tension in your core tightening with every passing second.

Your breath hitched, and your thighs trembled as the wave of pleasure began to crest. Emily seemed to sense it, her movements growing faster, more insistent, as if determined to push you over. “Let go for me,” she urged, her voice vibrating through you as her tongue continued its sinful work. “I want to feel you.”

The sound of her voice, the intensity in her eyes, and the overwhelming pleasure of her touch shattered what little control you had left. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the bed as you cried out her name, every nerve ending alight with ecstasy.

As you cum, your pussy clenching and unclenching around her fingers and tongue, Emily lapped up your cream greedily, drinking in your essence like it’s the most precious thing in the world. She kept eating you out through your orgasm, not stopping until you are a quivering, spent mess. With a final tender kiss on your sensitive mound, Emily sits back on her heels, admiring the view of your flushed and fulfilled body sprawled before her. A wicked gleam in her eyes, as she slowly licks your juices from her lips. “Mmm… You’re delicious sweetheart.” A new wave of heat courses through your body at her words and you could feel yourself getting even more flushed.

Emily crawled back up your body, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, between your breasts, up your neck. Reaching the corner of your mouth, she pauses, gazing into your eyes with a loving possessive look. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered. The older woman claimed your lips in a deep, loving kiss, pouring all her affection and desire into it.

Emily pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips quirking into a sly smile. “So…what are your plans for New Year’s?” she asked, her voice low and teasing. She nipped at your bottom lip, her smirk devilish. “Because I’m thinking we should start the year off with a bang.”

[soodoonimin]

I think for his first Christmas in his universe, Wade wants Logan to have really good time so even though he already puts on a huge celebration anyway, he makes sure to pull out all the stops this year.

Ham and Turkey dinner. Everyone gets everything on their respective Christmas lists (Santa had to do a lot of merc jobs to pull that one off), Laura is there of course, and ever since Thanksgiving the entire apartment is decorated like it’s a goddam department store in the 1950s.

To Wade, this is going to be PERFECT!

Except he forgot a crucial piece of Wolvie Lore. This man doesn’t spend Christmas with his family and unlike his birthday, there isn’t any real reason why except that that’s just how he is. 

Wade doesn’t care because this is his universe, his house, his rules and for all intend and purposes, that’s his Wolvie. So he makes for damn sure that Logan is going to be home that day because he isn’t going to let him spend another holiday alone. No way!

And hell he actually manages to pull it off! Wolvie stays, the entire day and he actually seems like he’s having fun, like he’s actually…happy. It’s literally the only thing Wade could have asked for this year.

But he’s been an extra good boy this years apparently because something even more magical happens towards the end of the night.

Neither of them are drunk (bc duh) but they’re looser, feeling warm bc of the alcohol and the successful party and just general feeling of happiness that tends to come with the holidays. The two of them are sitting on couch and just talking, about anything and as the conversation comes to a lull Logan finally asks Wade why he wanted him there, why he was so insistent that he stay with them for the holidays and Wade is just like:

“What would make you think I wouldn’t. I love having you around.”

Logan just chuckles kind of sadly because he forgot when the last time anyone has ever wanted him around for anything was. And it kind of makes him sad that he needs to keep being reminded that Wade does, that Wade will most likely never get tired of him, that the people who came to the party, do. He thinks it’s sad that he needs to somehow keep reminding himself that he’s loved again and that this time he’s going to learn how to appreciate that.

So before Wade can even comment on the fact that he hasn’t replied yet, Logan just leans in and kisses him. There’s a slight second when Wade doesn’t kiss back (out of shock that this is actually happening) that Logan thinks he fucked everything up but those fears are rest in a near instant when he feels Wade kissing him back.

Maybe he hasn’t always been the best Wolverine but for this stupid man who was so ready to show him the love and affectionate he didn’t deserve, he was willing to do anything to be the best for him.

As for Wade? Well, this is the best Christmas gift he’s ever gotten and he sure hell isn’t going to do fuck it up!

[imthepunchlord]

So one of the odd things that stands out to me is, nearly a 180 chapters in, in a manga where we get to see the backstories, families, and home life of various characters, from major to minor, we actually have yet to have anything on Momo and Okarun's history and family.

Particularly, on the topic of Momo's parents (my speculation on what may be going on with Okarun covered here).

For how much time we spend with Momo, at her home, and with Seiko, it's odd that we just have... nothing on her parents outside Momo confirming that they're gone.

I don't remember seeing any pictures on the wall.

There's no talk about them aside from Momo's confirmation about them.

There's no offered memories of them.

Just nothing, not from Momo or Seiko.

Which, I don't know how much it'll matter, but I'm so curious about Momo's parents, who were they and what happened.

And that curiosity led me to a speculation.

I theorize that one or both of Momo's parents were mediums, with Seiko's child following in her footsteps. And they wound up coming across/upsetting a very dangerous yokai that proceeded to take them out, and only little Momo survived because she manifested her spiritual power and fought back or took it out.

And that's how Seiko found Momo when she rushed over to help her family, power awakened, yokai defeated or chased off. And those powers receded once Momo was safe, and with it, the horrible memory is blocked or forgotten.

For now, I feel it's a plausible theory for the fate of Momo's parents, as I feel it can work off what we see of Seiko.

Seiko does know about Momo's power and was surprised by how limited Momo was, as if she was expecting more, which would make sense if she had seen more from Momo in the past.

And we do have Seiko teaching and preparing Momo for the spiritual world.

And Momo does have some knowledge about spirits and how to approach and work around them, which Seiko taught her.

In spite of this, we do have Seiko holding back from fully including Momo. Through the sass and squabbles, she cares greatly for Momo's safety.

Like Seiko holding onto what Momo said as an angry kid for so long, either Seiko is just that petty, or she's using it as a means to put distance between Momo and the spiritual world out there.

And in the latest chapters, despite Momo's situation, Seiko is adamant for Momo to go to school.

And we learn that, while Momo is at school (and safe to Seiko's knowledge), she's looking into how to turn Momo back to normalcy without Momo's knowledge.

If Momo knew that Seiko was going to do this, she would've joined her in an instant.

So I think chances are good that Seiko experienced great loss of her child through spirits/yokai, and got to witness the power Momo has. She does what she can to teach and prepare Momo, but is also trying to keep her safe and have some distance from the spiritual world.

And what makes the most sense to me is the possibility that Momo's parents fell to some powerful yokai, that activated Momo's powers for the first time for Seiko to see.

[erinwantstowrite]

Wait did Loki already know about Dick and Jason and all that because he did research /before/ Peter got sent there on not just he was there without telling Peter? And that's why he ended up in that universe specifically cuz he had family there? Or I did I misread something?

oh no Loki is fully lying out of his ass right now. but really he's not lying, it's more like he's not telling the full truth ? idk how much I can really tell you guys cuz I don't want to spoil it... alright, so i can't tell y'all what he was doing specifically but i can tell y'all his general plan and some character insight

i'm feeling in a slightly spoilery mood so!!! if you don't want to know anything about what Loki is up to, don't continue reading! but be aware that at this point in time, there are some things that we just won't know about Loki in the fic itself that i'll talk about here!

before all of this he had absolutely no intentions of teaming up with Peter, he was just exploiting a weakness and trying to get Peter out of the way (this is the same as to what he did with Thor). he knows that Tony would be distracted, and in their efforts to find Peter they would probably be stressed out and their forces would thin because finding usually involves splitting up. they would also have to deal with Mysterio and Ohnn (....and a secret third character 👀). it would give him plenty of opportunity to go in and try and pick them off one by one. except it's not working on the Avengers side. we'll get more to this later 😁

after his first meeting with Peter, Loki figured that Peter would probably be a good place to get some intel if he needed it, because Peter trusted him and was not aware about Loki and his past with the Avengers (or at least not fully aware). the more that he learned about the Bats and Peter's relation to them, as well as learning about Peter, the more he figured it wouldn't hurt to have Peter on his side. he thought that he could twist Peter into believing the Avengers weren't coming. his plans have been shifting around, meeting his needs since the beginning. he's been standing off to the side and pushing the characters around trying to figure out what they will and won't do, like he's observing a game and they have no idea he's moving pieces around when they weren't looking.

however this plan was going to take a lot more time... and Klarion summoning Thor ruined it completely. he had to speed up the process and make his offer quite literally months before he thought he would. so in a way, we can thank Klarion for derailing Loki's plot

Loki had no idea what would happen when he directed Ohnn and Mysterio towards Peter. he knew that Ohnn had been traveling between worlds for a couple of months, but he had no idea if Peter would even survive going to this other universe. he also had no idea about Peter's relation to the Bats until he started digging around for his new plan (Plan: Exploit Peter's Love for his Parents). the thing is, is that his plan would have failed no matter what, because Loki failed to see that Peter's adopted family cares deeply about him, and this bond means just as much as any blood ties he could have. his own insecurities about his standing within his own family got to him. when he was digging around in Peter's life he saw that Peter's foster experience had failed. and he might, maybe, just a little bit... feel bad that the family that was going to adopt Peter were killed because of what happened in the Battle of New York.

so: while he has been very intentionally manipulating Peter... he was thinking of Peter's best interest after a certain point. instead of him not caring what happened to him as long as he was out of the way, Loki did start preparing to make sure that Peter could stay in this world and that he would be taken care of. because i don't believe Loki is an evil person, and even now he's just a little silly. he might have been a little bit crazy with Thor, but to be fair, every other time Loki had a plan and he wasn't crazy enough, Thor came out of it. I feel like they have different standards than what we would as humans. because if you have a sibling then I feel like you'll understand me here... me and my brother used to fight a lot and while we never actually chased each other with knives, we did chase each other with other weapons (whatever wouldn't actually kill but was within our reach) and I think this is their version of that. like me and my brother are super close now but when we were kids we tried to kill each other a lot lmfao. so Thor will probably forgive Loki because that's his brother. (and I'm pretty sure that Loki was under some form of manipulation by Thanos during the Battle of Manhattan/New York??? correct me if I'm wrong, but if that's the case Peter would eventually see that Loki isn't an evil person.) Loki is very chaotic neutral in my eyes, leaning towards evil or good depending on the day. so he's gonna get his ass kicked for trying to take over the world, but like, that's just his enrichment... you gotta let him try every few months/once a year or you're not doing enough to entertain and care for your sneaky God Alien Guy

[andiebomb]

When Sneeg uses his criminology degree for anything I go crazy like

“YES BITCH GET THEIR ASS IN A LOGICAL WAY”

I start banging on my chest like King Kong

Same for when he gets sarcastic and firm with chat, because some people will call him mean but he could give less of a shit because this is how people learn and change and that’s why his chat is literally the only chat I type in

It’s an actual safe space

I LOVE that he doesn’t take shit from people

-coming from autistic who gets interrupted and told is overreacting

I mean that’s one of the main reasons I watch Sneeg, I relate to him a lot, same humor, neurodivergence, sarcastic asshole but not a dick and like we’re both the youngest in our family

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Merry Christmas, my friend!! ❤️💚 First of all, I'm so honored that 'Twas the Night gave you some inspiration! 🥹 I'm excited to dive into this special Christmas edition of Take a Chance.

Aww poor Ben. I love how we start with shading in his past Christmases compared to what he's starting to experience now with the reader. We come at it from the same angle of headcanon, that Ben's mom was the only person who truly loved him in his family. So it was such a good detail that after she died, Christmases became just more of the same toxic/apathetic atmosphere with his father, compounded by the impact of his mom's death.

Of course he's having a hard time choosing a proper Christmas gift for her, because when was the last time he gave someone a gift because he genuinely loved them? I feel like Countess wouldn't be a good example lol. So what's going to be a reflection of the relationship he has now? Especially because she's not one for flashiness, or more materialistic gifts.

And as much as Ben loved that about you, it was only making this worse for him.

Yup. 😂😂

"Still not quite right?" She asks, adjusting the sleeves of her navy blue blazer. "We have some bigger jewel-" "It's not the fucking size." Ben snaps frustrated.

Lmfao come on, Ben. Let's not take this out on others. 🤣

"I'm not your fucking buddy." Ben sighs under his breath.

Okay, Ben. You do you. 🤣🤣

Ben had no intention of setting foot inside, but you were curious and even though it made Ben's throat tight to walk down the dusty cobwebbed halls, the wonder on your face as you walked through made the cold memories of the world he knew before he was a supe fade into the background. And this storage unit was all that was left of that life.

Wow, that's so interesting. Taking a trip literally through Memory Lane and walking through his family's mansion. I've never thought about that before, but I imagine it would be one of those things that Ben, for the longest time, couldn't bring himself to sell, but also couldn't visit. Like a mausoleum of his old life.

When Ben opens the trunk, he catches the smell of the floral perfume his mother used to wear and after all these years it makes him remember the tight hugs she'd give him the moment she sent him off to bed and the tight hugs she'd given him when he rushed down the stairs on Christmas morning.

You're killin' me, friend!! 😭😭

Something that you would have ended up doing about an hour before you had to go to the airport, but you knew that would only annoy Ben. But you liked annoying him.

Lmaooo deeply relatable. I feel like it would be oh so funny to intentionally getting on his nerves (knowing he wouldn't hurt you). 😂

He might not have been big on sharing, but your boyfriend was good at listening. Not just pretending to listen, but actually being quiet and wanting to learn more about what you're saying. You'd thought it was odd when you became roommates and you realized just how much Ben listened and remembered what you told him, but now it was one of the reasons that made you love your boyfriend more.

Oh, it's because he actually cares. 💗

In all honesty, you didn't hate how old fashioned Ben was, if anything it was a relief, a reprieve from the way the modern boys treated women. It was nice to finally be with a man who actually gave a shit about you and cared what you wanted.

People want to think there aren't any good aspects to "traditional/old-fashioned" men, but for the men who are actually good men, traditional doesn't necessarily mean outdated or toxic, so thank you for including this tidbit.

Her gift to him was so very sweet!! Of course she made him something heartfelt, and he appreciated it because it was a genuine "first" for him, having someone give him a hand-made gift from the heart. 💚💚💚

And his gift to her was absolutely perfect. 🥹 A keepsake from his mother? Him basically saying he wishes she could've met his girl? I'm dying of happiness from the sheer fluff. 😭💗

This was a beautiful addition to the Take a Chance story, and kind of feels like an epilogue in a way, even though I know you're working on that one too. I loved this, friend!!

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV and Reader POV

Summary:  All Soldier Boy wants for Christmas is to find the perfect gift for you and all you want is for your boyfriend to have the best Christmas he has in forty years. Reader is a supe with plant powers. (Takes place in my Take A Chance On Me Series- 4 months after they get together, but can be read as stand alone!)

Tropes: Established Relationship, First Christmas, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Illusions to Sex, Fluff, Soft Soldier Boy, A little bit of self-deprecating thoughts, Soldier Boy is Mean to Hughie, Mention of drinking/drugs, Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Song Inspiration: Little Things By ABBA

A/N: I know I should be working on the epilogue of "Take a Chance on Me," but @zepskies wrote a lovely Christmas fic called 'Twas the Night for Dean Winchester, and it really just got me in a mood to write some Christmas Fluff! 🥰

Soldier Boy POV

Ben frowned at the delicate necklace laid on the black velvet cloth in front of him, the 10 carat diamonds catching in the brilliant lights that lined the ceiling of the jewelry store. It was the eleventh piece of jewelry that he'd asked the woman behind the counter to remove from the display case, and it still wasn't right.

Ben had waited until the last possible moment to go Christmas shopping. It wasn't because he'd forgotten or because he'd been so busy he hadn't had time to shop or because he'd been called away on a mission, but rather Ben kept putting it off because he didn't want to think about it.

It was his first Christmas back in the U.S, and it was already proving to be one so different than the ones he'd known before.

Christmas for him in his youth when his mother was alive was filled with light and joy. Each room of his family's mansion strung with tinsel, adorned with holly and festive wreaths, and a Christmas tree so large that it put all others to shame and sent the smell of pine wafting thorough the large home. He remembered the lavish parties his mother threw with women in gorgeous gowns and men dressed in suits taking crystal glasses from silver trays, remembered the warmth in the kitchen as his mother baked and rolled fresh pastry, remembered the taste of the hot chocolate on the tip of his tongue that his mother made him before she sent him to bed on Christmas Eve, and remembered her tight embrace and the smell of her floral perfume on Christmas morning when he'd run down the stairs into the living room.

Ben's jaw tightened.

Christmas without her was different, the large mansion where he lived with his father was cold and dark. The hallways desolate and frozen in the winter months that lead into spring, the kitchen no longer heated by the warmth of the oven or infused with the smell of gingerbread, the parlor no longer tinkling with the sounds of glasses and the laughter of guests, the living room no longer housed a Christmas tree so tall that it made the Eiffel tower look like a trinket, and there were no longer Christmas parties where people danced into the wee hours of the morning and poured themselves into bed smelling of champagne and eggnog.

All that was left was the drunken stupor of his father, the harsh words that echoed down the long hallways, and the urge for Ben to find the nearest bottle and drown himself in it.

Ben spent most of his years as a supe trying to forget the years that followed his mother's death and also his Christmases as a supe washing away the memory of the ones that seemed to be infused with the magic of Christmas in his youth.

Ben spent them at Legend's Christmas party with his woman of the hour clinging to his arm, making painful small talk and waiting until the party turned into a hedonistic thrall of sweat and skin as so many others had. And the next morning when he woke up from the fog, he turned back to the little white line that promised to make him forget and the amber bottle that did little to ease the reality that started to sink in.

But this year was different, because he had you.

You who loved Christmas more than anyone he'd ever met, you who was slowly reminding him how much he used to love Christmas as a child, you who'd dragged him to go Christmas tree shopping before Thanksgiving, you who had encouraged him to help decorate the small apartment the two of you shared with so many Christmas lights it was blinding,  and you who had planned something Christmas themed every week for the past month whether it be baking Christmas cookies or watching Christmas movies while drinking hot chocolate on the couch. And in each moment, you'd found some way to include him in it.

Ben wasn't used to that.

He wasn't used to someone wanting him there with them and someone like you going out of your way to include him in everything you did.

If a person had tried to tell him in the past that he'd ended up with someone like you, someone who smiled easily, someone who always put other people first, someone who actually gave a shit about him, someone who was always so damn warm and welcoming, someone who included in him everything you did in a way that didn't make Ben feel like an old grump, and someone who tried their best to make sure that Ben remembered every day that you wanted him around, he would have laughed in that person's face.

And yet there you were.

Truth be told Ben knew that the old version of him probably wouldn't have let someone like you close to him, let alone fall in love with them.

Ben hadn't met anyone else like you in the numerous years he'd been alive and he really didn't want to fuck it up. He'd fucked up so many other things in his life and he hadn't cared, but if it involved you, he wouldn't dare.

Hence, the current dilemma of him standing in the crowded Tiffany store at 8 pm two days before Christmas with you waiting at home for him to exchange gifts. Ben wanted to pick the perfect gift for you, but nothing felt right.

He'd never given much thought to what to buy someone for Christmas. In the past usually an expensive piece of jewelry, a handbag, a dress, or a car would have made any of Ben's many escapades swoon, but not you. Ben had tried to give you jewelry before, expensive jewelry that would have made any of those other women drop to their knees, but you were different.

And as much as Ben loved that about you, it was only making this worse for him.

The one time that he'd tried to give you a gift outright, a beautiful diamond and emerald drop pendant with earrings to match, you hadn't been impressed. Sure, you'd thought that it was beautiful, but you'd told him that you liked gifts that "meant something."

Whatever the fuck that meant.

And he knew for a fact that the 10 carat diamond necklace on the velvet pillow in front of him would mean nothing to you.

"Fuck." Ben murmured under his breath, and the saleswoman stiffened.

"Still not quite right?" She asks, adjusting the sleeves of her navy blue blazer. "We have some bigger jewel-"

"It's not the fucking size." Ben snaps frustrated.

He was running late.  He knew that you were waiting at home for him to bring back dinner and to give him his present, the one that he was sure would be thoughtful and perfect for him because you were always so damn caring.

The other shoppers were pushing and shoving their way to the counters where other salespeople stood in identical navy blazers and white button down shirts, the tension and buzz of two days to Christmas electrifying the air, while Christmas music that Ben couldn't recognize played in the background.

His supe hearing made it worse. Sometimes it was a bit overwhelming and as much as Ben pretended that he didn't have PTSD, he did. Being surrounded by this many people was not helping. It was in moments like this when you were there, would hold entwine your fingertips with his and brush your thumb gently over the back of his hand to ground him as if you could sense his discomfort.

Ben hadn't ever had someone care enough to notice things like that. Another reason why he wanted to find you the perfect gift, because you put up with all his shit and didn't ask for anything in return.

"Ben?" He hears a familiar voice ask, hesitant, and he turns to see Annie standing a few feet inside the open doorway. S

he's wearing a black puffer jacket and her hair is hidden under a red stocking cap, while Hughie holds the door for her. Hughie's arms were laden down with bags while Annie's remained bare. The winter wind blew in through the space, flecking bits of snow onto the rugs that had been laid out to avoid the customers sliding through the sludge.

"Hey." Ben grunts, not quite smiling.

He wasn't good at talking to your best friend or her boyfriend. Personally he thought that Hughie was a fucking pussy and that he didn't have the balls to tell Annie no, but the one time Ben had told you that, you'd only rolled your eyes and told him that Hughie "loved Annie."

Ben loved you and he did have the balls to tell you no, but Ben thought that sometimes it was better to keep his mouth shut and do what you asked. Not to mention Ben hated saying no to you when it was something that could make you happy. Ben liked making you as happy as you made him. 

He flinched at the thought. The self-deprecating monologue was beginning to seep in, the one that told him you were turning him into a "pussy" and that he should cut and run. The same monologue that made him make a mistake and run back to Vought a few months ago when he should have run to you.

Ben shakes it off.

"What are you doing here? I thought you two were going to leave this morning for Illinois?" Annie asks in surprise used to Ben's grouchy demeanor.

Your grandmother turned Christmas into a two day extravaganza, complete with a Christmas Eve and a Christmas Day party. And although Ben and you were supposed to begin the 14 hour drive to Illinois this morning, your grandmother had insisted the two of you catch a flight first thing tomorrow.

"Decided to catch a flight tomorrow." Ben replies.

Ben was secretly happy, because flying meant that he wasn't going to have to drive 14 hours in the snow. The two of you had driven to Illinois once before, and Ben hadn't minded it. You’d been more upset with him for not letting you drive, but Ben liked driving. Driving meant that he was in control and in an emergency situation he wouldn't have to reach over the console and yank the wheel to save the two of you and driving meant that you could relax in the passenger seat and work on whatever it was you were crocheting.

"Like us!" Hughie flashes Ben a wide smile that Ben doesn't feel the need to return. “You should have told us. We could have all traveled together!”

Ben's frown deepens at the thought at being stuck in a metal tube for hours with Hughie and he knew that if you were here you would probably elbow him in the side and tell him to "be nice." If anyone had ever tried to do that to him in the past, he would have ripped their arm off, but not you.

"Last minute shopping?" Hughie asks trying again.

Ben dragged his eyes over the numerous bags hanging from Hughie's arms. "Yeah. You too?"

"Mhmm. We just finished." Annie replies. Her gaze drops to the diamond necklace on top of the display case that the saleswoman is fiddling with. "Is that for-"

"No. Of course not!" Ben says sharper than he means to, shoulders tensing. But him standing in this store when he knew that you were waiting at home for him to celebrate Christmas made him feel like Annie and Hughie had caught him red-handed. "She doesn't like jewelry." He adds referring to you as he takes a step back from the counter and the sales associate who looks confused.

“But sir-“ The woman begins to say, but Ben waves a hand to shut her up.

"Why do you think that?" Annie asks interrupting the woman.

"Because she yelled at me when I bought her that diamond and emerald necklace!" He shouts so loud that some of the other customers turn to stare at him. "This was a fucking mistake, I have to go-" Ben starts to stomp out the door and past Annie not sure where he's going, but she shifts to stand in his way. His eyes narrow in annoyance, thinking about all the ways that he could move her.

He only put up with Annie because she was your best friend and he knew that if he did anything to her then it would upset you, and Ben didn't like upsetting you.

Well, he did think that it was cute when you got angry with him. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your cheeks turned a cute shade of pink, and your eyes seemed to glow with the force of your anger. There were few people who had the courage to tell him off, but the more you did it, the more he started to like it.

But this was different, and now thinking about you only reminded him of his current dilemma.

"Ben, wait a minute." Annie says.

"What?" He snaps

He could practically feel the seconds ticking away until he had to go back to the apartment. It was the first time that he'd ever dreaded going home and seeing you and fuck he hated every single moment of it.

"She does like jewelry." Annie's mouth drops into a sympathetic smile.

Ben tried not to get more angry when he saw the pitying look in her eye. He didn't need her pity, didn't need anyone's pity! He was still Soldier Boy damnit!

"Then why the fuck did she-"

"She doesn't like this kind of jewelry." Annie clarifies. "She like vintage stuff, simple, refined. Hell, I have to practically drag her away from the display cases at Atomic Archives."

"Atomic Archives?" Ben asks hesitantly. He had no idea what Annie was talking about. You'd never mentioned that place before.

"Yeah, it's our favorite antique store. It’s about two blocks over from where the plant shop used to be.”

"Can you show me where it is?" Ben says it before he can stop himself, his heart surging with hope at the possibility of finding the perfect gift for you.

"I mean I-" Annie begins to say, but Hughie interrupts.

"Babe, didn’t you say that the owner was closed this week because she went out of town?" Hughie asks her, throwing a sympathetic look in Ben's direction that made him bristle.

"Oh, right." Annie sighs.

Ben felt the hope inside pop and deflate like a pricked balloon, but the longer he stood there in the crowded shop, with the ostentatious jewelry twinkling under the lights, the buzz of the chatter of other shoppers, and the ridiculous new-age Christmas music that grated on his ears, he began to have an idea.

"Come on." Ben might have said it as a suggestion, but it wasn’t open for debate. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed Annie and unfortunately that meant that Hughie was going to tag along.

"What?" Annie sputtered.

"Come the fuck on. I don’t have time for this." Ben snaps back and stomps out the doorway past Annie and Hughie into the snow.

"But what about-" Hughie begins to say and Ben whirls around to glare at him, eyes narrowing. "Okay you got it. Lead the way buddy." Hughie nods his head in agreement.

"I'm not your fucking buddy." Ben sighs under his breath.

Soldier Boy POV

"This place is really murdery." Ben hears Hughie whisper to Annie from somewhere behind him. "Do you think Ben is going to try to kill us? Should I call Butc-"

"I'm not going to fucking kill you!" Ben snaps, pulling out his keys, the jingle of the metal echoing down the long hallway. "And I guess you really can't make a decision without that British fuck can you?”

The storage unit warehouse was desolate, but that was to be expected, it was after all two days to Christmas and most were more focused on buying things to put in their storage units than moving things out. The lights along the roof of the steel gray hallway flicker and throw long shadows over the navy blue doors of the units doing little to alleviate the creepy aura.

In hindsight Ben did agree that this particular storage space was "murdery," but it was the only one that he could get close to the apartment last minute. The same apartment that Ben has been trying to convince you to move out of.

It wasn't the safest neighborhood, and Ben hated the thought that you'd lived there as long as you had, walking home at night alone before he moved in. Now it wasn't a problem because Ben never let you walk by yourself. And as hard as you'd fought him not to live in a "big fancy apartment" all Ben wanted was to live somewhere where he could imagine staying permanently. Not in a small one bedroom apartment where he had to stoop in the shower, the bed barely fit in the bedroom, and seemed too small for one person let alone two.

He knew that he was wearing you down, but he still had a long way to go.

"Why are we here then?" Hughie asks.

"You're here because your girlfriend wouldn’t come without you.” Ben rolls his eyes as he fits the key into the thick padlock.

He was getting tired of listening to Hughie’s whining. He heard enough of that when he was stuck on missions with him, but he was tolerating him, for the moment at least. He had to, because if he didn't then he was never going to be able to find the perfect gift for you.

The interior of the storage unit isn't anything special. Ben didn't have much that he wanted to keep from his old life, as a supe or from his childhood. The things inside this storage unit were the only things that Ben had left that didn't cause him to be reminded of how his father chastised him or the drafty home that Ben returned to each time he got kicked out of another boarding school.

The mansion that had been in his family for decades had sat abandoned and locked up, hidden from the main roads so it was undisturbed after Ben's father died. Ben had gone to Philadelphia a few months ago to get things in order with the bank and prepare it for sale, but had been surprised when you told him you wanted to come.

He didn't think that you'd want to be involved in something so tedious, but it was almost as if you could sense how hard it was going to be for him, and you'd insisted.

Ben had no intention of setting foot inside, but you were curious and even though it made Ben's throat tight to walk down the dusty cobwebbed halls, the wonder on your face as you walked through made the cold memories of the world he knew before he was a supe fade into the background.

And this storage unit was all that was left of that life.

Ben located the old steamer trunk with ease. It was a faded gray now, but Ben remembered the day his father bought it for his mother. When the grayed sides were a soft supple black, the metal lock and edging were a polished gold, and the rose patterned fabric that lined the inside was soft and covered in bright pink flowers.

When Ben opens the trunk, he catches the smell of the floral perfume his mother used to wear and after all these years it makes him remember the tight hugs she'd give him the moment she sent him off to bed and the tight hugs she'd given him when he rushed down the stairs on Christmas morning.

He didn't like thinking about her or talking about her, but sometimes he would think of her when he was with you. Whenever you did something caring without being asked or whenever you took the time to check in to see how he was doing. Not that you were motherly, just that Ben hadn't had anyone in a long time care about little things like that.

The only other "relationship" he'd tried to have was with Crimson Countess and she didn't do any of the things for him that you did. There wasn't any comparison between the two of you as far as Ben was concerned.

He shakes off the memory the way he always does and moves some of his mother's clothes for the cherry wood carved box that he knows is in the bottom.

He opens it slowly, extracting a small velvet box from within, one of many inside that Ben probably should have taken to the bank ages ago for safe keeping. Ben's father had a tendency to buy things for his mother whenever he "messed up" and the small velvet boxes inside were proof of that.

Ben turns back to where Annie and Hughie are watching with curiosity at the door of the storage unit. "Here."

"Here?" Annie says hesitantly looking at the velvet box in Ben's hand.

"You brought us out here for a box?" Hughie huffs.

Ben narrows his eyes. "No. And if you tell anyone about this I'll turn you inside out, ass-wipe."

"Why do you always have to be so-" Hughie begins to say, but Annie nudges him in the side.

Ben wondered briefly if Annie and Hughie also tried to tolerate him the same way that he tolerated them for you.  

"Wow." Annie says, her voice hushed and reverent when she opens the box with strands of her blonde hair falling out around the hat.

"You think she'll like it?" Ben clears his throat, trying not to wince at the question.

He hated that he was relying on Annie for this or relying on anyone in general. Ben would have rather taken a long walk off a short pier than anyone for help, but he was just so desperate to make sure that the first Christmas the two of you spent together was perfect.

You deserved that and Ben wanted to give it to you.

"She will."

"Good." Ben takes the box back, but decides to bring the wooden box with him back to the apartment just in case. His eyes narrow as he looks over at Hughie. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll shove your head up Butcher's ass. Then again, you two would probably enjoy something like that."

"You're welcome." Annie raises an eyebrow.

"Whatever." Ben mutters.

Reader POV

Ben was late and you were starting to worry.

Not that Ben was always punctual. The man was about as punctual as the White Rabbit, but rather Ben was sure to let you know when he was running late. Not to mention Ben was rarely late to things that he knew were important to you.

And tonight was special or at least you wanted it to be.

You look at your phone again to check the time, noting that it was nearing nine and Ben had told you he was going to be back at eight. You were trying not to think too much about it, busying yourself with other little things, like packing for your trip to your grandmother's home in Illinois. Something that you would have ended up doing about an hour before you had to go to the airport, but you knew that would only annoy Ben.

But you liked annoying him.

Ben's nostrils would flare, his jaw would flex, and the green of his eyes would darken in a way that sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine, but tonight you were too anxiety ridden at how late he was to care about making him annoyed.

Ben and you were supposed to leave this morning to drive the 14 hours to your hometown in Illinois, but you'd called your grandmother a few days ago and asked her if Ben and you could fly in instead.

You wanted the two of you have a Christmas alone before you dragged him back home and made him sit through the two holiday parties your grandmother threw. So you'd planned a quiet Christmas at home where the two of you could drink eggnog, watch some holiday movies, and exchange gifts before Ben was subjected to every single person you'd known since you were six.

But Ben didn’t seem to mind any of that.

Regardless, you were going all out this Christmas. It was Ben's first since he'd come back to the States and you wanted it to be perfect and it was the first Christmas the two of you were spending together as a couple.

The anxious energy that thrummed through your veins reached out into the numerous plants in your apartment, that shifted and stirred as your powers coaxed them forward. The vines that crept along the walls shook with an unnatural breeze, the Christmas tree grew an inch taller, the mistletoe hanging above the front door grew another few shimmering berries, the blackberry and raspberry vines that hung over your refrigerator fidgeted and wove together into a curtain while the tomato plant in the garden box above your sink dropped bright red fruit onto the counter, and the orange/lemon tree that sat behind your kitchen table blocking the view of the alley beyond shook it's branches for a moment. You could feel everything alive in your apartment leaning towards you as if waiting for your silent command.

Rex, the creature you'd created from broken vines and trampled leaves four months ago, flicks his eyes over to you sensing the same disturbance the rest of the plants inside could.

You bite the inside of your cheek fighting your urge to check your phone even though you know that less than a minute has passed since you'd last checked. Instead you fiddle with the ribbon on the lumpy wrapped gift that is perched on your lap.

Shopping for Ben had been difficult to say the least.

You weren't sure what to get your 104 boyfriend who'd lived as a hedonistic playboy for most of his life and you didn't like giving gift cards (you didn't think Ben would understand the concept) or giving people meaningless trinkets that they used once and then threw away (the Grinch was right about some things). You liked giving gifts that you put time and effort into that you were sure the recipient was going to love.

And you were sure that the package on your lap contained the perfect gift and you were excited to see the look on Ben's face when he unwrapped it.

Your cat Bean purrs where he sits beside you on the couch and Rex your, for lack of a better word, Dragon was watching the multicolored lights on the Christmas tree in the corner blink on and off.

It was bigger for your apartment than it should be, but Ben had insisted on getting it and you couldn't complain. Not when he genuinely seemed to be happy to stand there in the snow picking out a tree with you.

And after when no Uber driver agreed to pick the two of you up because of the tree, Ben had carried it on his shoulder fifteen blocks while you begged him to let you help. When you'd tried to take some of the tree, Ben had shifted it to his other shoulder and taken your hand instead, which wasn't what you meant when you reached out towards him, but you didn't let go, not when it was cold and Ben's hand was warm.

The one jammed into the corner of your small living room didn't have a leaf out of place or any signs of decay. You'd fixed that with a flick of a finger.

You'd gone all out with decorations.

Every plant in your apartment had lights of their own and ornaments that swung just out of reach from your pets. Christmas lights were strung down the hallway and there was a wreath on your bedroom door. Strands of mistletoe hung over every doorway in your apartment and there was one taped to the wall above your bed. That one was Ben's doing, but you couldn't complain, not when it felt so damn good to kiss him.

Ben hadn't spoken about the Christmases he spent in the past, but he'd listened to you talk about your Christmases growing up when the two of you decorated the tree with ornaments you'd collected over the years.

He might not have been big on sharing, but your boyfriend was good at listening. Not just pretending to listen, but actually being quiet and wanting to learn more about what you're saying. You'd thought it was odd when you became roommates and you realized just how much Ben listened and remembered what you told him, but now it was one of the reasons that made you love your boyfriend more.

You sighed, a happy smile on your face. You didn't think that you could feel this way about anyone, let alone someone you hated for so long, but you did. Ben was changing the belief you had about what relationships should look like, and you were sure that you were doing the same for him.

You hear the jingle of keys and the fumble of the doorknob as Ben slowly opens the front door and you leap from the couch.

"You're home!" You exclaim as your body hits his full speed, but he doesn't move. It was difficult for you to produce enough force to move him, difficult for anyone really.

Ben chuckles "Miss me Petals?"

He moves the plastic bag of Chinese food to his left hand so he can hug you back, his right hand fitting comfortably over the small of your back to hold you tighter against him.

You could remember the first time you hugged him, when all he did was stand there with his hands at his sides awkwardly while you held on to him as tight as you could. This was better. Ben's embrace is warm and strong, unyielding, but full of the love that he’d had such a hard time admitting.

"Yes." You squeeze him hard, smiling into his jacket that's flecked with melting snow, cold against your skin, but the warmth of his body soaks through the chill and into you. You sigh, nuzzling further into him. "I was worried-"

"Why?" Ben's voice rumbles through his chest, against your cheek.

"Because you weren't home yet." You pull back to stare up at him. His brilliant green eyes catch in the multicolored strands of Christmas lights, strung through your apartment. There's snow caught in his dark hair, turning to water and dripping down into his face in the warmth of the apartment.

Ben frowns. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You're here now." You smile arching up to kiss him. Ben groans into your mouth, his grip on you tightening as he deepens the kiss, pressing the hand on the small of your back just a little more to secure you against his chest.

You sigh softly, content in living in this moment with him for another few precious seconds. The heat of his body transferring into you the longer you stand pressed against him, soaking through your sweatpants and chunky sweater in the best way.

You'd never felt this way about anyone in the past. There hadn't been another boyfriend who'd treated you the way Ben did, no other boyfriend who'd cared about the little things, and no other boyfriend who you were so in love with. Even your first love so long ago faded into the background, the one you thought you'd never get over, and all that was left was Ben.

You're too excited about giving Ben his gift to eat. You sit cross-legged on the plush gray couch so close to him that your knees are touching the outside of his thigh as Ben places the boxes of food onto your coffee table. The anxious energy tingling in the pit of your stomach and buzzing in your chest so much that it's difficult to sit still.

And before Ben can give you your chopsticks, you thrust the lumpy wrapped package onto his lap with a wide smile.

"You first!" You say.

Ben shakes his head. "It should be ladies first."

“I’m not a lady Ben. We both know that-“

“Sorry sweetheart that’s the way it goes.”

“Don't be so old fashioned Gramps. It's 2024.” You roll your eyes at him, laughing at the cute frown that pulls at his lips when you use the nickname. Ben never liked it, but when you'd first met, Ben hadn't told you his real name, and you'd assigned him the nickname and it had stuck when you realized how much it annoyed him.

That was when he did everything in his power to annoy you as well, so it seemed like a good fit.

In all honesty, you didn't hate how old fashioned Ben was, if anything it was a relief, a reprieve from the way the modern boys treated women. It was nice to finally be with a man who actually gave a shit about you and cared what you wanted.

"And I really want you to open yours first." You plead as you lean towards him. "Oh, and this goes with it."

You reach down behind the couch to grab the small golden barrel cactus, avoiding the sharp yellow spines, and place it on the minimal space left on the coffee table. You'd crocheted a dark green sleeve to go around the terra cotta pot.

"You got me a cactus?" Ben snorts.

"I mean, I have so many plants in here and I thought that you'd want one that was yours. Plus, you'll never have to water it." You gesture with one hand to the numerous plants around the room, the ones bathed in the multicolored lights from the Christmas Tree, the ones with bright green leaves that unfurled towards the light, the others with hanging vines that trailed to the ground so thick that you couldn't remember the color of the wall, the apple tree with ripe red fruit, and the numerous herbs in the garden box that hung over your kitchen sink. "And I gave it a sweater."

"Why did you give it a sweater?"

"It’s used to a warm climate and because I had some yarn left over."

"From?"

"You're just going to have to open your gift and find out." You shrug, but can barely contain your excitement.

Ben shakes his head at you, but a smile twitches on the corner of his lips. You knew that your boyfriend loved you because you were different than anyone he'd ever met, and you reveled in that. You liked that even though Ben was older than you,  that no matter how many other experiences he'd had in his life,  you were a first for him just as Ben was a first for you.

He rips through the paper carefully, trying hard not to ruin what was inside, the sound of crinkling and tearing blocking out the Christmas playlist for a moment that you'd put on before Ben had come home, but you can hear the ABBA song clear as day.

For a moment he stares down at the gift not quite comprehending what the lumpy mass in his lap is, but then he picks it up.

It had taken a month for you to pick out the perfect dark green yarn that was soft but not too soft, green but not too green, and another two months for you to finish it when Ben wasn't home, but you were proud of the sweater that you'd made your boyfriend.

He stares at it for another few beats, holding it up to the light, and it makes you worry that maybe you should have bought him something at the mall instead.

"You made me a sweater?" He asks, there's something on the edge of his voice that you can't place, some traces of emotion that you're not able to identify.

"Yeah. I wanted to make you something." You clear your throat, worried. "I mean- you don't have any and I know that you keep saying you run a little warm, but I figured we're going to Illinois for Christmas and it might be cold."

Ben doesn't say anything and you start to feel the self-doubt come roaring in.

Why did I make him a sweater? I should have bought him some cologne or something.

"And you complained when Butcher sent you on that mission to Alaska last month and I just thought that-“ You press your lips into a tight line, shoulders drooping. “If you don't like it I can keep it for me-" You fumble, but before you can finish, Ben yanks you into his lap.

His hands cup your cheeks as he kisses you so fiercely that it wipes any doubts from your mind. You make a surprised sound in the back of your throat, but sink into the kiss.  “Don’t you fucking dare.” Ben mutters against your lips.

Your blush burns against your face. “You like it?”

He nods. “ No one’s ever made me anything before.” His voice comes out a little bit gruff, as if he’s embarrassed to admit it, but it makes you smile.

“I figured and I wanted to change that.” Your fingertips dance over his forehead, brushing away the hair that’s fallen forward before your hand drops to cup his cheek, feeling the scratch of his beard against the palm of your hand. “But you’re sure you like it?”

Ben kisses you again, his large hands settling on your hips with an encouraging squeeze. “I do.”

“Good. Merry Christmas.” You wrap your arms around the back of his neck to hug him for a minute, sinking into his embrace with a happy smile.

"Merry Christmas doll." Ben murmurs into your hair, affection lacing his words.

Again, you send a mental thank you to your grandmother for understanding that Ben and you needed a day to be together and celebrate the way you wanted to before coming to stay. Not that you didn't like the Christmas Eve party or the Christmas day party, but you wanted to give Ben this. You noticed that Ben still had a hard time being in places with a lot of people when the PTSD came roaring back, and you wanted to show him what Christmas meant to you and hopefully show what Christmas would look like between the two of you as long as you were together.

“Sweetheart you gotta open yours now.” Ben’s voice rumbles, the warmth of his breath on your ear. It makes a pleasurable shiver thrill skate down your spine when you think of all the other times the two of you have been this close.

“It’s okay I can wait.” You hum into his throat, content, but Ben won't give in.

He pushes you back gently from his chest shaking his head. “Too bad. It's your turn."

"Fine." You start to move back to the space beside him, but Ben's hands catch on your hips to stop you.

"I didn't say I wanted you to move did I?" His smile turns more smirk.

"I-"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I like having you on top of me?" Ben purrs, kissing under your jaw, his beard scratching in a way that makes your throat tight.

"Keep doing that and the only thing I'm going to unwrap is you." You sigh in a half-moan, fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck.

"After." Ben leans back to reach into his coat pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box that fits in the palm of your hand.

You hesitate to open it.

It wasn't that you didn't want jewelry for Christmas, it was that Ben and you had done this song and dance before after he tried to make you wear a diamond and emerald necklace with jewels bigger than your index, middle, and third finger put together. The whole time you wore it the only thing you could think about is how many groceries you could have bought with the necklace, how much you were afraid that it was going to break, and how much you feared that you were going to lose it or someone was going to try and steal it.

Maybe that was ridiculous, but extravagant gifts never appealed to you. You liked gifts that meant something, gifts that were heartfelt and thoughtful, gifts like the bookshelf Ben had gotten you months ago before you were dating because he noticed you needed one. Not to mention you loved just spending time with Ben. If he hadn't gotten you anything you would have been content with just sitting with him on the couch and watching a Christmas movie.

But you smile, because you don't want to hurt his feelings and because it's his first Christmas in forty years and you wanted it to be special.

It's Christmas and I will be thankful and happy with whatever he got me, because Ben was thinking of me when he bought it.

You think to yourself as you open the box.

The first thing you notice is that the box isn't as new as you thought, the inside of the lid is printed in ancient script that's a little faded, worn against the aged white silk that lines it. Your eyes drift to the piece of jewelry nestled on the pillow. It's a silver locket, hexagon shaped, and about the size of your thumb. The face is printed with weaving ivy leaves and roses that reach to a simple plain border.

Simple, stately, and completely you.

Ben is uncharacteristically quiet, but he breaks the silence first. "Do you-" He clears his throat, "Do you like it?"

He asks it hesitantly, as if he's afraid to hear your answer. It was unusual for Ben to look so nervous.

You can only nod, any words you had stuck in the back of your throat. Your fingernail finds the seam between the two pieces of metal and you gently unlatch the locket to see the picture inside. There's a piece of glass protecting a yellowed photo of a little boy who looks no more than five standing in a small black suit. You didn't think that they made suits for kids that small. He's smiling and one of his teeth are missing, but he looks oddly familiar.

"Who is this?" You ask. The more you look at the photo the more you think that you've seen him before.

"It's me." He says it quiet, almost a whisper.

"You? But-"

"It was my mother's." He clarifies and you inhale sharply in surprise.

"Really?"

He nods once, looking uncomfortable. By now you knew that moments like this usually made your boyfriend uncomfortable no matter how many times that you'd told him that he didn't have to be uncomfortable about being vulnerable. He was getting a little better, slowly, very slowly.

"Oh Ben I don't know if I should-" You shake your head, afraid to touch something so old.

Ben didn't often speak about his mother, but when he did, it was always reverent and respectful. You could see in his eyes how much he had loved her and how much he had cared about her. His father, Ben also didn't like talking about, but Ben never spoke of his father with the kindness that he'd spoke about his mother.

And you didn't want to take something like this away from him, something that meant so much to him, because of how much he loved his mother.

"No. I-" He clears his throat and Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "I want you to have it."

"But-" You stutter.

"What else am I going to do with it Petals? Can't exactly wear it myself." Ben chuckles, but the humor doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s your mom’s and I-“ You trail off still looking at the photo of Ben as a little boy. He had the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes that you loved, the same unruly dark hair, but there was something different about him. He looked happier. It was the same look that Ben had when it was just the two of you together, the happiness that you wanted Ben to feel the rest of his life when he understood what it was like to be loved and cherished.

And it made you understand that the last time Ben must have felt loved and cherished was when his mother was still alive. It broke your heart to know that Ben had lived all these years without her and missed that in his life.

The locket was beautiful and the fact that Ben remembered what you said about liking gifts that “meant something” made your heart flutter.

Because this meant something. Ben taking the time to go through his mother’s jewelry and pick something out just for you that was special to him that he wanted to share with you, meant more than the emerald and diamond necklace he had tried to give you months ago.

There were tears burning behind your eyes the more you look at the photo of the little boy.

Ben is watching you. “Well-“ He shrugs. “I'm an only child. Which means I don't have any siblings who have wives to fight over this stuff so, I figured that if anyone was going to get it, it should be you. If you don't take it, it'll sit in that fucking storage unit. Seems like a shame."

You don't answer.

"And-" He hesitates, "I think my mom would have wanted you to have it. Hell, she might have given it to you, if I'd brought you home to meet her."

Your cheeks flush.

Ben studies you for another minute, before you watch his smile twitch into a frown. "Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have gotten you jewelry.  Annie said that you liked jewelry, but I told her you didn't and now the bitch is probably having a good laugh with that pussy of a boyfriend! Forget about it sweetheart, I'll go get you something else right now-" Ben tries to take the box from you, but you swat his hand away.

“Don't you fucking dare!” You shout, using the same words that he said to you when you tried to take his sweater away.

"But you don't like it-"

"I do!  And knowing how much this means to you, makes it better."

"Really?"

You nod, a wide smile wiping away any uncertainty in his gaze. "Will you help me put it on?"

"Sure." Ben says gruffly. His voice has lowered a little, and you know that it's a mixture of pride and love mingling in the tone. It made something break open deep inside and flood your ribcage with love.

You turn your neck to the side, pulling your hair away from the skin as Ben hooks the chain together at the nape of your neck.  The cool metal of the necklace against your skin and the weight are unfamiliar, but you already knew that you wouldn’t be taking it off anytime soon. "It's perfect!" You pull Ben in for a kiss, threading your fingers into his dark hair.

Ben smiles into your mouth, holding you tight against him as if he never wants to let you go and you don't want him to.

It was odd to think that you'd only been together for four months, but you couldn't imagine your life without him. It seemed ridiculous for you to think that Ben was it after such a short time, but he was. You'd never rushed into anything in your entire life, but then Ben was there shattering every expectation that you had, enough to make you throw your inhibitions to the wind and jump feet first into the unknown if it meant he was with you.

The kiss is softer than the one the two of you shared at your front door, filled with more emotion than Ben usually let the world see, but he was opening up bit by bit, learning that you wouldn't judge him for that and it made you feel sky high.

This was the relationship you'd always wanted, and you never thought that you'd have it with Ben, but now that you were here you wouldn't change a thing, because it wouldn’t have put you in his arms.

"You can change the picture." Ben murmurs into your lips.

"No way. I don't have any kid photos of you. And I'm pretty sure you'll see all of mine this week.”

“I bet you were cute.” Ben smiles, raising one of the hands from your hip to push your hair from your face. “Hard to imagine you being any other way sweetheart.” 

"Debatable." You sigh, nipping at his bottom lip in a way that makes Ben pull you back to him.

And when the kiss turns hungry, with you gripping his hair so tight you'd be sure that it would hurt anyone else, and with his fingers pushing up the bottom of your t-shirt to feel the warmth of your skin against his hands and find the dips and curves of your body that make you moan into his mouth, you can't help but think that this is the best Christmas you'd ever had.

"I do think it's later sweetheart." Ben's eyes shine with mischief, mouth pulling into the familiar smirk that makes your knees weak.

"Good. Because I have one other gift for you." You moan as Ben's mouth trails down to your jaw, his beard prickling against the sensitive skin, in a way that drives you mad.

"It's not another plant is it?" He bites just under your jaw and you tighten your hands in his hair, gasping softly.  "Fuck, I love those sounds you make baby." Ben murmurs.

"No." You've lost all ability to form sentences, not when he's so perfectly warm and the trail of his hands working up your abdomen consumes you.

"Give it to me later." Ben's eyes flash a startling green. "I want to unwrap my favorite gift right now."

"Keep going the way you are, and you're gonna find it."

Ben hesitates, before he raises his hand to feel the end of the brand new lingerie that you'd bought special for tonight, his eyes darkening with the realization. "Well then, Merry Christmas to me."

Ben's mouth falls against yours, but before he goes further, he pulls back just for a moment, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"Ben?" You question. 

"Merry Christmas Petals." He whispers, dragging his thumb over your cheek, and nudges his nose against yours in a gesture that warms your heart. He didn’t do things like that often, but whenever he did it always stood out to you, because it added on another layer to the man you loved with all your heart.

"Merry Christmas Ben."

A/N: I thought that they deserved a little Christmas fluff. I'm hoping that I have time to drop a follow up to this before Christmas, because I kinda want to write what happens when they go back to Illinois, but we'll see what happens! ❤️

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 🥰

Taglist for Take A Chance On Me:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

@n-o-p-e-never @nesnejwritings @am0rem @tpwkcalli @momggn

@fitxgrld @whimsicalcherry @ladysparkles78

@spxideyver @zepskies @impala67stellawinchester

@reidtomewinchester @samanthadegaro @glossy01 @nikimisery

@tunnelvisionlove @incandxscents @winchester-stark @samahanta

@melonmochi

@kamisobsessed @whichwitchwanda @karolina-12110905 @jcollins03-blog

@pixviee @filmologetica @yvonneeeee @c1nnamong1rl29 @kmc1989

@livya99 @cherrygirl444 @tulipsvanilla @angrydragon90 @chi-raz