#the one where the snowman turned back into a kid

[giveafike]

Silent Night, No More - B.T.S

TLDR: CHRISTMAS EVE! This is part 12/12, the last part of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 5k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: Christmas Eve chapter! Finally here, phew! Enjoy reading, and have a lovelyyyy holiday szn my loves <3 be safe and I wish nothing but peace and joy for u and ur loved ones :)

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Christmas Eve dawned on the house, and as soon as the house awakened, excitement and joy immediately lit the house throughout each room. Lisa’s kitchen felt like the heart of the house, beating warm and alive, with an aroma that wafted through the house, every surface serving a purpose as she began cooking the dishes, getting everything for the feast set to ensue later. The counters were a cluttered symphony of ingredients, flour-dusted bowls, glass jars of different herbs and spices, and a large array of serving dishes and other equipment. The oven hummed, working overtime while the gas stoves remained alight with several pots atop, as trays of stuffing and casseroles exchanged places. Lisa moved with the confidence of a seasoned cook, wielding her wooden spoon like a wand.

You, Emma and Ben, had weaved in and out throughout the day, helping clean up the kitchen or assisting in tasting and aiding in preparing some of the dishes. Still, truly Lisa seemed to have it under control, especially with all the prep you both had done the other day. Now it was more a case of gossiping and talking, keeping company while the minutes ticked away while Ben got shooed away to set up the large dining table and the kid's table for dinner.

Emma leaned against the counter, sneaking a piece of carrot from the chopping board while Lisa’s back was turned. “Caught you. Down, girl,” Lisa said without even looking, and Emma’s hand froze mid-air.

“Dang it,” Emma muttered, popping the stolen piece into her mouth anyway. “You’ve got eyes in the back of your head.”

“Mother’s intuition,” Lisa replied, her tone amused as she sprinkled paprika over a bubbling dish. Then, she turned to you. “You keeping her in check?”

You raised both hands in mock surrender. “She’s a free spirit. What am I to do, Lis?”

Emma giggled, linking her arm through yours. “Come on, let’s get ready before Mom ropes us into something else.”

In Emma’s room, Christmas jumpers were laid out on her bed like a festive fashion show. “We’ve got options for the both of us, but you have to wear a Christmas jumper - no escape,” she declared, holding up two hangers.

One featured a fluffy snowman surrounded by tiny, twinkling LED lights; the other was a maroon sweater adorned with white snowflakes and reindeer. “Which one says ‘I’m the life of the party, but also an excellent gift recipient’?”

You laughed, pointing to the reindeer sweater. “Definitely this one.”

She handed it to you before holding up another for herself, a green jumper with a cheerful Santa Claus and jingling bells stitched onto the sleeves. “Perfect,” she declared. “Let’s get festive.”

As you pulled on the sweater and paired it with a sweet black pleated skirt, you glanced at yourself in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. It was cozy and just the right amount of ridiculous. You pulled your hair back and did light makeup, just blush and concealer and a touch of mascara. Emma, already fully dressed, fluffed her hair and tugged you into a selfie. “Documenting this for the archives,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

The two of you headed back downstairs, where Ben was crouched by the Christmas tree, adjusting the gifts as he snuck his Secret Santa present there too. He stood up as you entered, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. His own jumper, a deep red one with white reindeer, matched yours almost exactly.

Emma burst out laughing. “You two look like you planned this!”

“We didn’t!” you protested, feigning annoyance though your cheeks burned as Ben looked at you, his smile widening.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, tugging at his sleeve. “Guess great minds think alike.”

Back in the kitchen, Bryan had just returned, jingling his keys as he carried in a bag filled with snacks.

“Got the goods!” he announced, setting the bag down on the counter. “And before anyone asks, yes, I did mean to buy candy canes the day before Christmas.”

“Uh-huh,” Lisa said, arching an eyebrow. She reached into the bag and pulled out a pack of marshmallows. “And these were on the list?”

“Essential for s'mores,” Bryan said, unrepentant. Then, leaning closer to Lisa, he added in a low voice, “I stopped by the PO Box.”

Lisa smirked knowingly. “Last-minute gift retrieval?”

“Shh,” Bryan replied, holding a finger to his lips as he glanced at you and Emma. “Not a word.”

“Don’t worry,” Emma said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “Your secret’s safe with us…for now.”

As Bryan moved past you, he clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You all set up here, kid?”

“Mostly,” Ben replied. He gestured to the table with a sweeping hand. “You want to check my work?”

Bryan squinted at the table like a coach assessing a play. “Not bad, not bad. You might have a future in hospitality if this tennis thing doesn't work out, son.”

Ben rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips. “Good to know I’ve got options.”

As the sun began to set, the kitchen became a flurry of activity. Lisa transferred dishes to serving platters while Emma handled the gravy, stirring it with exaggerated care while you got the cranberry sauce ready. “Gotta keep the lumps out,” she said, winking at you.

Bryan circled back, snagging a piece of bread from the cutting board and earning a sharp “Bryan!” from Lisa.

“What? Quality control,” he defended, chewing unabashedly. Then he turned to you. “By the way, you’re fitting in around here like you’ve been part of the family for years. Good job surviving this lot.”

“Thanks,” you replied with a laugh. “I’m enjoying every chaotic minute.”

Bryan smiled warmly, and for a moment, the teasing glint in his eyes softened as he pat your back. “We’re glad to have you here. Really.”

Ben leaned against the counter beside you, brushing your shoulder with his. “Told you they’d love you,” he said quietly.

Your chest warmed as you turned to him, your voice soft. “Guess I’m just lucky to have the best companion.”

Ben smirked, nudging you lightly. “Please, lucky’s an understatement.”

“Alright, you three,” Lisa called, pointing her spoon at you, Ben and Emma as you stood near the cabinets. “The nice plates and cutlery are in the top drawer, and the good cups are wrapped in the linen closet. Don’t break anything.”

Emma rolled her eyes with a grin, nudging you. “She acts like we’re five. Come on, let’s make this table look like a magazine spread.”

The two of you dug out the plates, admiring the intricate designs that only ever came out for Christmas. Emma carried the stack carefully, while you followed with the silverware and cups, setting them down on the dining table where Ben was already arranging the candles and centrepiece.

“Keep it neat, Benny,” Emma teased as she set the plates down. “This isn’t your tennis playstyle; exactness matters.”

Ben shot her a playful glare, adjusting a placemat just to spite her. “Precision’s my speciality, Em. You’re lucky I’m not measurin' angles here.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you placed forks and knives neatly beside the plates. The three of you worked in unison, the table gradually transforming into a picture-perfect setup with now lit candles, a centrepiece of poinsettias, and a sprinkling of gold and red decor.

As the sun dipped low, the food was plated onto the good dishes and placed in warming trays, bowls and serving trays, the kitchen alive with the clatter of lids and Lisa’s cheerful humming. Bryan returned to the rest of you, a sheepish smile plastered on his face after swiftly tossing his Secret Santa gift beneath the tree.

With the house organised and ready it wasn't long before the family began to arrive.

The door opened to a flood of warmth and sound. Aunts and uncles piled in with cheerful exclamations, small children rowdy and excited darting through your legs, and laughter filled the space as Ben’s family began their Christmas Eve takeover. The smell of cookies, pine, and faint notes of perfume wafted in with them, making the house feel even cozier.

Ben and Emma led the welcoming committee, diving into hugs and playful jabs like they’d been waiting all year for this moment. You followed closely, feeling the contagious energy of their enthusiasm.

One of Ben’s aunts, her arms full of baked goods, set them down to pull you into a tight hug. “Oh, so you’re the one,” she said with a knowing smile. “Ben’s talked about you nonstop. We were beginning to think you weren’t real!”

“I’m real, I promise,” you replied, laughing as she squeezed you again.

Ben’s grandmother was next, her soft hands wrapping around yours as she studied you closely. Her eyes crinkled with warmth. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she said, her drawl wrapping around the words like a melody. “This boy better be treatin’ you right.”

“Oh, he is, it's a pleasure to finally meet you,” you assured her, feeling your cheeks warm under her kind gaze.

Ben appeared behind you, throwing an arm around his grandmother’s shoulders. “Nana, you’re embarrassing me,” he teased, though the fondness in his tone was unmistakable.

“Good,” she shot back, giving his arm a light slap before turning back to you, squeezing your hand tight before letting go. “We’ll talk more later, sweetheart.”

The uncles were just as welcoming, their handshakes firm and accompanied by wide grins. One leaned in conspiratorially, muttering, “If Ben’s giving you any trouble, let me know. I’ve got plenty of stories that’ll keep him humble.”

“Noted,” you said, unable to suppress your giggles.

Before long, the younger cousins made their presence known. They were a whirlwind of energy, zipping through the living room like tiny tornados. One darted behind you hiding, clearly using you as an advantage for a game of tag, giggling maniacally as another launched themselves at Ben, wrapping their arms around his waist.

“Ben!” the little one squealed.

“Oh no, not again,” Ben groaned dramatically, lifting the child effortlessly and perching them on his shoulders. “Alright, who’s next? Form a line!”

Three more cousins swarmed him, clambering up his legs and giggling as he tried to fend them off with mock protests. “I’m not a jungle gym!” he shouted, though his wide smile betrayed him.

You watched from the side, laughing at the chaos. One cousin paused mid-sprint to look up at you with curious eyes. “Are you his girlfriend?”

Before you could answer, Emma swooped in. “She’s our new favourite family member,” she said with a wink, ushering the little one back into the fray.

Dinner was nothing short of a spectacle. The dining table stretched to its limit, every inch covered with dishes that looked like they’d been lifted from the pages of a holiday cookbook. Platters of turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, and cornbread vied for space with glasses of sparkling cider and wine.

Lisa stood at the head of the table, raising her hands to gather everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. “Before we dig in, let’s join hands for a quick prayer.”

You reached for the hands nearest to you, finding Ben’s warm grip on one side and his grandmother’s gentle hold on the other. The room quieted as Lisa spoke.

“Dear Lord,” she began, her voice steady and heartfelt. “Thank you for this family, for this meal, and for the blessing of being together on this special night. May we remember the joy of giving, the love that binds us, and the hope that tomorrow brings. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed through the room, and then the feast began.

The meal was a lively affair, filled with overlapping conversations, clinking glasses, and occasional bursts of laughter. Ben’s younger cousins, who had temporarily calmed down enough to eat, couldn’t resist sneaking off with a plate of sugar cookies halfway through dinner. They reappeared moments later with suspiciously sweet-smelling fingers and wide-eyed innocence.

Ben caught them red-handed. “Hey! Those are for dessert, y'all are some sneaky lil-!” he feigned anger, chasing them around the table while the rest of the family laughed.

"He always finds a way to sneak back to the kid's table, huh?" one voice laughed.

Bryan just shook his head, pretending to be disappointed as he took a deep sigh, "Every year..."

Once everyone had eaten their fill, the group naturally drifted to the living room, bunching up together. The kids wasted no time sprawling across the carpet in front of the TV, eyes glued to the animated version of The Grinch that played on the screen while milk, cookies and other sweet treats were shared amongst them. Their giggles punctuated the festive chatter, pillows and blankets passed between them like treasures.

The adults, meanwhile, settled into clusters around the room, the cozy couches and armchairs filling quickly. Ben was at the centre of one group, effortlessly juggling questions about his career with that easy charm of his.

“So, what’s next for you, big shot?” one of his uncles teased, though the pride in his voice was unmistakable. “Still aiming for top 10?”

Ben leaned back against the couch, his posture relaxed but attentive. His arm rested along the back of the cushion behind you, a subtle but comforting presence.

“That’s the plan. It’s been a good year so far, but next season’s gonna be a whole new level. A lot of travel, a lot of long days, but I’m ready for it.”

Another uncle nodded approvingly. “As long as you’re enjoying it,” he said, his tone warm. “That’s what matters. Doesn’t hurt that you’re putting our name on the map, either.”

Ben smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting with quiet pride. “Yeah, it’s been fun. It’s a lot of work, but honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

One of his aunts, sitting on the edge of a loveseat nearby, chimed in. “Well, it’s been amazing watching you shine, Ben. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself too.”

“I’ve got that covered,” Ben assured her, his eyes briefly flicking to you. “It helps to have good people around to keep me grounded.”

The conversation naturally shifted, as all eyes subtly turned toward you. It wasn’t sudden or forced, just a gentle pivot, like a tide rolling in.

Ben’s aunt leaned forward slightly, her expression curious but kind.

“So,” she began, her eyes twinkling with curiosity, “what’s it been like being with Ben? I mean, being with someone who’s on the road so much, always on tour. That’s gotta be… a lot on your shoulders too, sweetheart.”

Ben glanced at you, his expression softening in quiet encouragement as if to say, It’s okay, be honest.

“It definitely has its challenges,” you admitted. “There’s a lot of planning and juggling schedules, but honestly, it’s worth it. Ben has a way of making every moment feel important, even if we don’t get as much time together as we’d like. Quality time over the quantity of time, y'know?”

One of the uncles grinned knowingly, his voice teasing but kind. “Sounds like our Benny’s doing something right for a change.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “You’re not wrong,” he quipped, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Another voice chimed in, tone pensive. “I can imagine it takes patience. And maybe even a little creativity? It's not like you can always go out or be public, goodness...”

You nodded, humming in agreeance. “Exactly. But it helps that he’s so passionate about what he does. It’s easy to root for someone when you see how much they love what they’re doing. And we're both good at making time for each other and communicating, it works out well.”

“She’s been good around here, huh?” one of the uncles said, gesturing toward you. “Lis, I don’t think we’ve seen you this relaxed in a long time.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, looking mock-offended. “Excuse me, I am the epitome of relaxed all the time.”

Bryan, returning from the kitchen with a plate of s'mores for the kids, snorted. “Mmhmm, sure you are.”

Lisa waved him off but smiled warmly, her gaze landing on you. “She’s been a breath of fresh air, that’s for sure. I don’t know how Ben managed to talk her into coming down here to spend it with us, but I’m glad he did.”

Ben’s grandmother nodded in agreement, breaking into a gentle smile. “Me too,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “It’s been lovely having you here with us. How’s it been, spending the holidays with all of us? We can be a little… energetic.”

The warmth in the room was palpable, and you felt your cheeks heat at the attention. “Thank you,” you said, your voice earnest. “It’s been incredible. I think I’ve been smiling nonstop since I got here. Everyone’s been so welcoming, it really feels like being part of something special.”

A ripple of murmured appreciation and smiles went around the room, and one of Ben’s uncles, seated with a glass of cider in hand, grinned broadly. “Well, that’s good to hear. We don’t exactly do quiet, but we do a whole lotta love.”

“It shows,” you replied, a genuine smile on your face. “It’s a good kind of chaos. It’s been easy to feel at home.”

The kids erupted into another round of laughter, their voices catching the attention of the room as one tried to mimic the Grinch’s dramatic sly walk, much to the delight of the other children. Their antics drew the group’s attention for a moment, lightening the mood even further.

Ben's hand found its way to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. His voice filled with pride but just above a whisper. “You okay?” His gaze held yours, steady and sincere.

You turned to him, your smile growing softer. “Yeah,” you said quietly, just for him. “Better than okay.”

He smiled that private little grin that was just for you, and gave your shoulder another reassuring squeeze and a pressing kiss to your temple before turning back to the room. His arm stayed where it was, a silent claim and sign of pride.

As the conversation dropped into a story time of some incident earlier this month you took a moment or two to just sit there surrounded by laughter, chatter, and warmth, feeling entirely at peace. It wasn’t just Ben, it was the family, the energy, and the way they opened their home and hearts to you. You glanced at him again, finding him already looking at you, and you couldn’t help but think, this feels like home.

The room quieted slightly as the conversation dwindled down, which prompted Bryan to stand and clap his hands once, the sound cutting through the chatter. “Alright, everyone, settle down, I think it’s Secret Santa time!”

The announcement was met with cheers, laughter, and some playful groans from the kids, who had long forgone the Grinch and were more interested in a game of play-fighting each other and bouncing on the couch. Lisa emerged from the kitchen with a tray of hot cocoa for the younger ones, while the adults pulled their chairs closer into a semi-circle around the Christmas tree.

“Okay,” Bryan started, grabbing a gift and reading the tag, “this one’s for… Em!”

Emma squealed in delight and scrambled forward, nearly tripping over one of the little cousins who stuck themselves out last minute. She took the neatly wrapped gift from Bryan’s hands, plopped down cross-legged in front of the tree, and tore into it with dramatic flair.

“Oh my gosh!” she shrieked, holding up a beautiful matching outdoor all-weather jacket set, one for her and Halo, alongside a bracelet and dog collar. The colours complemented Halo’s coat perfectly, and there was even a little charm engraved with Halo’s name. “This is so cute, all I put on my wishlist was somethin' for me 'n Halo, who did this?”

You raised your hand a little shy. “That’d be me.”

Emma’s pout was instant and exaggerated, but her eyes sparkled. “You! You’re too good at this!” She bolted up, practically leaping at you as she enveloped you in a tight hug. Her lips pressed a loud, playful kiss to your cheek before she pulled back. “Seriously, this is the best. Thank you!” She immediately began calling Halo over to try on his new gift, beaming with excitement.

Bryan reached for the next present, his grin wide. “Alright, next up… this one’s for Ben.”

Ben took the box with an exaggerated bow, earning laughter and applause. He made a show of shaking it next to his ear, grinning mischievously. “Hmm, feels important,” he teased, glancing at you like you might give something away.

“Just open it, drama king,” Emma called, rolling her eyes.

Ben tore the wrapping away, revealing a sleek black journal and a beautifully designed scratch-off world map. His smile softened as he turned the journal over in his hands, fingers grazing the cover. “This is perfect,” he said, his voice quieter now. He looked around the room, his expression genuinely touched. “I’ve been wanting something like this, I'll do a review on tour and write it down. Thank you, secret Santa.”

“You're welcome,” Lisa admitted, raising her hand with a proud smile. “I figured you could use it for your next season. Better than the normal bunch I get you.”

Ben crossed the room in a few strides, leaning down to kiss his mom on the cheek. “You nailed it,” he said, his gratitude evident.

The next few rounds brought a mix of hilarity and sentimentality. One uncle unwrapped a set of novelty socks featuring flamingos in Santa hats, which sent the room into fits of laughter. An older cousin received a set of gourmet spice blends for their newly discovered love of cooking. One of the younger kids was delighted with a jellycat plushie and various popular blind-boxes, which they immediately hugged to their chest.

Finally, Bryan reached for the gift labelled with your name. “This one’s for you,” he said, handing it over with a grin.

You took the gift, noticing the impeccable wrapping job. “Someone had this done professionally,” you teased, shaking the box gently before pulling at the tape. The room watched eagerly as you opened it, revealing a beautifully curated gift set: an engraved charm bracelet and a luxurious throw blanket in your favourite colour.

“Wow,” you murmured, touched by the thoughtfulness. You glanced up after a few seconds, your eyes scanning the room until they landed on Bryan, who was sitting suspiciously still, legs crossed, a smile tugging at his lips as he tried to cover his mouth from giving him away.

“Bryan!” you exclaimed, laughing as you stood. His wide grin gave him away immediately. "Terrible poker face."

“Guilty,” he admitted, rising to meet your hug. His arms wrapped warmly around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!” you said, squeezing him back before sitting down again.

As the gifts continued to be opened, the room filled with laughter and joy. Lisa’s gift, a handmade quilt stitched with everyone’s names, earned her a round of applause, while Ben’s grandmother unwrapped a stunning piece of holiday artwork for her mantle, bringing tears to her eyes.

By the time the final gift was opened, everyone was either laughing, hugging, or marvelling at the thoughtfulness of the night, not one present unappreciated. It was pure magic, exactly the kind of warmth and connection that made this holiday unforgettable.

It wasn't long before the well-loved karaoke machine turned into the centrepiece of the late evening. After the initial warm-up of Feliz Navidad with you, Ben, and Emma leading the mission to get everyone in the mood, the night unfolded with a lively lineup of songs. Bryan’s spirited Jingle Bell Rock performance had everyone laughing and clapping, his dramatic hip wiggles earning him a standing ovation from the kids. Lisa’s O Holy Night was a showstopper; her voice soared so beautifully that even the little ones paused their antics to listen momentarily.

The room erupted into applause when she finished, with Bryan dramatically wiping away a fake tear and declaring, “That’s my wife!”

Throughout it all the kids, despite their sugar highs, began to wear down with a sugar crash. One by one, they started curling up on couches, leaning against older cousins, or lying on the plush carpet in front of the tree. Ben surprised everyone with a charmingly off-key rendition of Last Christmas, dedicating it to you while his family howled in laughter when he purposefully butchered the high notes.

“Don’t quit your day job, son,” Bryan teased, throwing a decorative pillow at him.

“Oh, I think I nailed it,” Ben shot back, winking at you as he handed the microphone off to the next brave soul.

You even found yourself roped into a duet with Emma, an upbeat version of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, earning a cheer when you both ended with exaggerated bows and somehow, tinsel garlands around your necks like scarves. The energy in the room shifted to a more relaxed hum as the night wore on. Conversations grew quieter, and laughter turned softer as the clock ticked closer to midnight.

By the time the last notes of karaoke faded, the practical task of winding down the house began. Air mattresses were pulled from closets and inflated in the living room for the family staying over. Emma tossed pillows and blankets onto each one, laughing when Ben dropped onto one mattress dramatically, testing its bounce like a kid.

“Ben, you’re gonna pop that thing!” Lisa called from the kitchen, her voice holding a mix of amusement and warning.

The others slowly began to filter out, gathering their coats and wishing everyone a cheerful goodnight and a Merry Christmas. Hugs were exchanged at the door, the promise of seeing each other bright and early the next morning lingering in the air.

The house finally quieted as only the immediate family remained on their feet.

Together, you, Ben, Lisa, Bryan, and Emma tackled the cleanup. Dishes clinked in the sink as Bryan dried them off while Lisa packed leftovers into tupperware with precision. You and Emma worked side by side, wiping down the counters and collecting the last of the wrapping paper scattered near the tree.

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” Emma quipped, passing you another wet cloth.

Ben appeared behind you, reaching for the glasses you’d just dried. “Or at least keeps us from being here until morning,” he added, flashing you a quick grin.

As the final crumbs were swept and the house was put back in order, you found yourself in the kitchen with Ben. He leaned against the counter, his phone in hand, its faint glow casting a soft light across his face. When he caught a glimpse of you, his brows unfurrowed as he quickly tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“Caught you,” you teased, stepping closer. “Being sneaky again?”

“Maybe... just trust me, alright? You’ll see soon enough.”

You tilted your head, pretending to scrutinize him. “You’re lucky tonight was perfect, or I might press you for answers.”

“Perfect, huh?” He pushed off the counter and closed the space between you, his hands brushing yours before settling gently on your waist. “So, my crazy family didn’t scare you off?”

“Not even close,” you murmured, smiling up at him. “They’re wonderful. Tonight was… everything.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

The clock above the stove caught your eye as it ticked past midnight. A small laugh escaped you. “Ben,” you said, nudging him gently, “it’s officially Christmas!”

He caught a glimpse of the clock, his eyes wide as a smile broke out on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you mumbled before the moment could pass, he leaned down and kissed you, a soft, unhurried kiss that made the world outside of this moment melt away.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, his hand cradling your face, breath warm as it mingled with yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the hum of the dishwasher and the faint creak of the settling house the only sounds around you.

His hands slid down to yours, fingers intertwining as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “For being here. For everything.”

You smiled softly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

The warmth between you was all-encompassing, as though the world had shrunk down to just this kitchen, just this moment. The kitchen remained as the heart of the home, and your heart was here, holding you in his arms, eyes boring into yours with an immeasurable amount of love for you. His thumb brushed across your knuckles as his lips curved into a quiet, contented smile.

From the living room, a faint rustle sounded as Emma and Lisa talked their quiet laughter a reminder of the family still tucked away nearby. The twinkling Christmas lights cast a soft glow over the house, and in the stillness, everything felt whole.

Ben leaned in again, pressing another kiss to your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. “Merry Christmas,” he said once more, as though savouring the words.

“Merry Christmas,” you echoed, the words wrapping around you both like a blanket. Together, you stood there a moment longer, letting the night settle into your hearts before finally, hand in hand, you turned off the last of the lights and let the warmth of the day carry you both forward.

---

hm. what a weird way to end...right?...

[angrybatart]

"Hey, dude! Is that hot chocolate? I love hot chocolate! Can I have some? Hey, did you get taller? Boy, it's hot in here."

"... *looking at the trail of melted snow across the floor* ...Performance is going to have a fit..."

[bluefunkybeats]

ZAYNE DOMESTIC HEADCANONS

~ PART 2

cw: suggestive +18 below cut!!!

Zayne who, when he doesn’t want to read research articles to get you asleep- due to how monotonous and tedious they get- instead reads ‘The Little Prince’ to you. Sometimes to tease you he turns the book and points to the picture like he’s reading it to a little kid or something. If you react with a warning paw to his arm he’ll respond with a breathy chuckle.

Zayne who always steals a sip of your drink with your straw when you’re out on a lunch date. Will tell you that a variety of liquids is good for the diet if you call him out.

Zayne who responds to the doodles you make on the calendar hung on his kitchen wall with his own snowman doodles. You can tell there’s a lot of love behind them but certainly also a lazily held pen (which you’ll allow since he does these very early in the morning before work). Other times he’ll just respond with comments like “oh really?” to the nonsense you write and graffiti on that thing.

Zayne who enjoys all kinds of sweet cold treats but always has some classic Magnum ice creams in his freezer drawer because it’s a reliable choice. He can’t nag you and will just give a touché happy sigh about any sort of snacks you store next to his beloved Magnums: it’s your checkmate.

Zayne who has a small potted plant in the desk of his office. He’s never really went too long without watering it, but ever since you’ve put a plant poke with a cute little character to give company to his plant, he’s never been more motivated to water it. It certainly adds a bit of you to his space, and he has the habit of stroking the little plant’s leaves in caress when he thinks of you during work.

Zayne who packs your bag for uni or work if he knows you’ll be too busy to attend to it until the morning or if you’ve dozed off already.

Zayne who readjusts your sleeping positions with the most gentle hands, otherwise he can’t be soothed to continue doing anything else. He gets prickles on his back just to think about you waking up with a hurting back.

Zayne who feels contentment he can’t describe when he slides his closet door open and opens the shallow little accessory drawer, and finds your jewellery in a specialised velvet tray and his prescription glasses on the other end.

Zayne who because of you, has a little egg timer resemblant of a chicken to help out when he cooks. He used to just use alarms on his phone, but ever since your silly little gift, he won’t use anything else. The first thing he did when he found the incongruous little chicken character was ask if you if it had a name.

Zayne who picked up your little habit of storing socks as little balls. When you’re both sat on the bed balling up his and your socks, he’ll grab one like a snowball and boop it to the side of your cheek.

Zayne who when he sees you really sluggish coming out the shower, will get you dressed and have you sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed mattress as he stands and dries your hair with the hairdryer.

Zayne who once put your soiled slippers in the washing machine while you slept before leaving for work in a really early dark winter morning. He kissed your hand and jotted down a little note on the bedside table for you to use his slippers instead, which were faced outwards from where you’d naturally put your feet to get up from bed.

Zayne who has a regime with you of cutting and peeling fruits for each other back and forth. Once outdid you by making his orange to you look like a water lily, knowing and having schemed that you couldn’t do anything more creative. The bastard. All your oranges from henceforth were like that, to rub it in your face with the excuse of vitamin D. Yeah right. You’ll get him.

Zayne who involuntarily (or voluntarily, who knows) flusters you when removing your underwear from the plastic peg rack. Upon meeting your dazzled face, holds the cloth almost touching the side of his cheek.“Should I not take this garment to face value?”

[lila-lou]

✨Little Soldier✨

Summary: Ben’s approach to parenting is all grit and discipline, just like the way his own father raised him. But with a little nudge from you, he starts to see that being a good dad is more than just teaching strength—it’s about showing love too.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, Fluff, (Ben is mistreating your poor son)

Word Count: 9291

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

It was one of those crisp winter mornings where the air bit at your skin, but the sunlight danced across the snow, making everything shimmer like a dream. The backyard stretched wide, blanketed in white, untouched except for the paths Ben and your son, Logan, had carved into the snow as they trained. Ben stood tall and imposing in the center, the green jacket of his suit open just enough to let the cold sting his chest. He didn’t seem to feel it. Soldier Boy never did.

Logan, just eight years old, was across from him, his small fists raised in a stance that mimicked his father’s. His breath came out in quick, visible bursts, more from effort than the cold. He kept glancing toward his feet, unsure of himself, while Ben paced a tight circle around him.

“Come on, kid”, Ben said, his deep voice cutting through the stillness. “You think anyone’s gonna wait for you to figure it out? Eyes up. Watch your opponent. Always”.

You knelt nearby in the snow, your four-year-old daughter, Lila, bundled up in her puffy coat and mittens, happily building the base of a snowman. Her little hands moved clumsily, her giggles breaking the quiet each time the snow didn’t quite cooperate. You helped her pack the snow tighter, gently guiding her hands and brushing her hair away from her flushed cheeks as you did.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Logan glancing over. Logan’s gaze lingered on you and Lila for just a heartbeat longer than it should have, his eyes filled with something unspoken. He wanted that—building a snowman, laughing, playing without a care in the world. He wanted to feel the warmth of your praise, the way you smiled at Lila when she held up a misshapen clump of snow as if it were a masterpiece. But he couldn’t. Not right now. Not when his dad was watching.

He straightened his stance, forcing the longing down into the pit of his stomach. He was a man, or at least, he was supposed to be. That’s what Dad always said. “You’re not a little kid anymore, Logan. You’ve got to be strong, got to take care of the people you love”. So even though his arms ached and the cold bit at his cheeks, Logan clenched his fists and focused on his father.

Ben noticed the hesitation, his sharp eyes narrowing. “What’s with the looking around, huh? You think your enemies are gonna stop because you’re distracted?”. He stepped forward and lightly tapped Logan on the forehead with two fingers. “This? This is your weapon. If you don’t keep it sharp, you’re dead, kid. Now, eyes on me”.

“Yes, sir”, Logan muttered, his small voice barely audible. He squared his shoulders, his knuckles raw from the cold.

Ben circled him again, his boots crunching against the snow. “Better. Now, hit me like you mean it. Don’t pull your punches just because I’m your old man”.

Logan hesitated for a split second, stealing one more glance at you and Lila. Lila was giggling again, her tiny voice ringing out like a bell as she held up two sticks she’d found for the snowman’s arms. You caught Logan’s glance once more, and your heart clenched. He looked so torn, so much older than his eight years in that moment.

But Logan turned back to his dad, his small frame trembling as he stepped forward and threw another punch. It landed on Ben’s open palm with a dull thud. Ben caught his wrist, holding him in place.

“That all you got?”, Ben asked, his voice calm but challenging.

Logan sighed quietly, his breath visible in the cold air. He hesitated, lowering his gaze to the snow before muttering, “I’ve got my laser eyes, Dad… do I really need to learn how to fight? I could just… laser an enemy”.

Ben froze for a moment, his grip still on Logan’s wrist. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t amusement. It was that half-smile he wore when he was about to make a point, the kind that sent a chill down your spine as much as the cold air did.

“Your laser eyes?”, Ben repeated, letting go of Logan’s wrist. He straightened to his full height, towering over the boy like a general over a recruit. “That’s what you’re gonna rely on? Some flashy power you barely know how to control?”.

Logan’s shoulders sank slightly under the weight of his father’s words, but Ben wasn’t done.

“Let me tell you something, kid”, Ben continued, stepping closer. “You think some bad guy’s gonna just stand there and let you zap him? Powers don’t mean squat if you don’t know how to fight. If you don’t have the guts to stand your ground when things get real. You run outta juice, you get caught off guard, and guess what? You’re toast”.

Logan flinched, his face turning red, though whether from the cold or his father’s words, it was hard to tell. He looked down at his fists, the little tremor in his hands betraying the frustration he was trying to hide.

“But—”, Logan started, only for Ben to cut him off.

“No buts, Logan”. Ben’s voice softened slightly, though the steel remained. “You’re my son. You fight, and you fight smart. Lasers or not, you’ve got to learn how to handle yourself. You’ve got to be ready for the worst. Because trust me, one day, someone’s gonna come at you, and they’re gonna be faster, smarter, and meaner than you ever thought possible”.

Ben crouched down now, meeting Logan’s eyes. His tone shifted, quieter but no less intense. “And when that day comes, you don’t want to be the kid who only knows how to hide behind a fancy power. You want to be the kid who looks them in the eye and says, ‘Come on, give me your best shot’. You hear me?”.

Logan stared at him, his small frame trembling not just from the cold but from the weight of what his father was saying. After a moment, he nodded. “Yes, sir”, he whispered, his voice steadier this time.

Ben clapped a hand on Logan’s shoulder, a rare moment of affection. “Good. Now hit me again. Harder this time”.

You watched from where you knelt with Lila, your heart aching for your son. He was trying so hard, carrying a weight far too heavy for someone so young. But there was a flicker of something in his expression now—determination, maybe, or even pride.

Logan set his jaw, stepping forward again. His small fist swung upward, and this time, the impact against Ben’s hand was louder, sharper. Ben grinned, nodding approvingly.

“That’s my boy”, he said. “Now we’re getting somewhere".

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Lila tugging at your sleeve, her little hands holding a snowball. “Mommy, can we throw this at Daddy?”, she asked, her mischievous grin spreading wide across her face.

You watched for a few more minutes, letting Logan and Ben have their moment. Logan’s punches were getting stronger, his stance more confident. Ben’s rare but genuine nods of approval lit up Logan’s face, even as his small fists grew red and raw from the cold. It was a scene that tugged at your heart—intense, yes, but filled with love in its own complicated way.

But enough was enough. Everyone needed a break, even Soldier Boy.

You silently scooped up a handful of snow, packing it tightly in your gloved hands. Lila watched you with wide, sparkling eyes, her grin spreading as she realized what you were about to do. “Shh”, you whispered, pressing a finger to your lips. She mimicked the gesture, though her giggles threatened to give you away.

Ben’s back was turned as he adjusted Logan’s footing, his deep voice still carrying instructions. He had no idea what was coming. You took careful aim, pulled your arm back, and let the snowball fly.

It hit Ben squarely on the back of the head.

For a split second, the world froze. Logan’s mouth dropped open, his eyes darting to you in shock. Lila’s laughter erupted, high and bright, as she clapped her mittened hands together. Ben straightened slowly, turning to face you with an expression that was equal parts surprise and challenge. A few snowflakes clung to his hair, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

“Really?”, Ben said, his tone low and dangerous, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “You think you can take me on, sweetheart?”.

You shrugged innocently, already packing another snowball. “Well, someone had to remind you to have a little fun”.

Ben’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that”.

Before you could react, Ben scooped up a massive handful of snow and hurled it in your direction. You ducked, narrowly avoiding the incoming projectile, and tossed your snowball back, catching him on the shoulder. Logan burst into laughter, his previous tension melting away as he watched the two of you go at it.

“Oh, it’s on now!”, you shouted, grabbing another handful of snow.

“Logan!”, Ben called out, already forming another snowball. “You with me or her?”.

Logan hesitated for half a second before grinning mischievously. “Her!”, he declared, running toward you. Lila squealed with delight, abandoning the snowman to join your side, her tiny hands struggling to form a snowball of her own.

Ben feigned outrage, clutching his chest. “Fucking traitors! All of you!”.

What followed was pure chaos. Snowballs flew in every direction, laughter ringing out across the yard. Ben, true to form, didn’t hold back, though he made sure to go easy on the humans, meaning you. Logan and Lila worked together, pelting him relentlessly, while you managed to land a few well-aimed shots of your own.

By the time the battle ended, all of you were breathless and rosy-cheeked, the tension from earlier completely forgotten. Ben stood in the middle of the yard, dusting snow off his jacket, while Logan and Lila collapsed into the snow, giggling uncontrollably.

You started walking toward Ben, a triumphant smile on your face as you prepared to rub in the fact that you and the kids had clearly won the impromptu snowball fight. But before you could get too close, Ben’s grin shifted into something sly and mischievous—a look you recognized all too well.

“Don’t even think about it”, you warned, holding up your hands.

He didn’t say a word. Instead, with one quick, fluid motion Ben effortlessly pushed you backward into the towering pile of snow that had been stacked from the snow fort construction. You landed with a muffled thud in the cold, soft powder, your breath leaving you in a surprised gasp.

“Ben!”, you yelled, sitting up and brushing snow out of your hair, your cheeks flushing from the chill and the sheer audacity of the man. He stood over you, grinning like a smug teenager, his hands on his hips as he surveyed his handiwork.

“Never let your guard down. I thought I taught you better than that”, he drawled, shrugging one shoulder.

You narrowed your eyes, a mixture of irritation and amusement bubbling to the surface. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that, Soldier Boy”.

“Big talk for someone sitting in a snowbank”, he teased, holding out a hand as if to help you up.

For a moment, you considered taking his offer. But then you saw the smirk on his face and knew better. Instead, you grabbed another handful of snow and flung it straight at his chest, catching him off guard. He stumbled back slightly, laughing as he brushed the snow off.

“That’s it”, Ben said, stepping forward with mock menace in his stride. “Now you´re done”.

Ben’s grin turned wicked as he shook the snow from his hair and stepped forward. Before you could even think to scramble away, he reached down, his strong hands gripping your waist with ease. “You started this”, he said, his voice low and teasing. “Now you’ve got to pay for it”.

“Ben, don’t you dare—”, you started, but the rest of your words were lost in a squeal as he hoisted you up and slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You pounded lightly on his back, laughter spilling out of you despite yourself.

“Too late for mercy now”, he said, his tone full of mock authority. “This is what happens when you challenge the champ”.

As you protested, he started toward the house, his boots crunching through the snow. Behind you, Logan and Lila dissolved into giggles, rolling in the snow as they started making snow angels, entirely unbothered by the fact that their parents were still in the middle of their antics.

“Ben, you’re getting me soaked!”, you protested, but your words were muffled by your laughter. Snow clung to your coat, melting quickly in the warmth of the house as he carried you through the door and kicked it shut behind him.

“That’s the least of your worries”, he shot back, his voice full of mischief.

He strode into the living room, his boots leaving a trail of melting snow, and without hesitation, he dropped you onto the couch. The plush cushions sank under your weight, and before you could react, he was hovering over you, bracing himself on his hands on either side of your head.

“See?”, he teased, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath despite the cold water dripping from both of you. “You can’t win against me. I’m unstoppable”.

You glared up at him, though the grin tugging at the corner of your mouth betrayed your true feelings. You reached up and grabbed his jacket, tugging him slightly forward. “You’re soaking the couch, genius”, you said, though the laughter in your voice was impossible to hide.

“So are you”, he shot back, leaning closer, droplets of melted snow falling from his collar and onto your skin.

The two of you were practically nose to nose now, water pooling under both of you.

Ben’s smirk softened into something more heated as his fingers toyed with the edge of your jacket. His voice dropped, rough and low, as he muttered, “You know, I fucking hate winter”.

You raised an eyebrow, still trying to catch your breath from laughing. “Oh yeah? Could’ve fooled me, the way you were having a field day out there”.

His hands slid to the edges of your jacket, slowly pushing it open as he hovered over you. “Nah”, he said, a big smirk on his face again. “I hate all these damn clothes. Hiding this”. His gaze raked over you as his fingers began to undo the buttons of your shirt, his touch confident and deliberate, yet surprisingly gentle. “Hiding your perfect little tits”.

Your breath caught, your cheeks flushing warmer than they already were from the snow. “Ben”, you started, half in protest, though your voice lacked conviction. His boldness always caught you off guard, even after all this time.

“What?”, he said, mock innocence dripping from his words as his hands worked their way lower. His green eyes locked with yours, full of mischief and intent. “You start a fight, sweetheart, you gotta be ready for the consequences”.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, even as you felt his calloused fingers graze your skin beneath your shirt. “Is this how you settle scores now?”.

Ben leaned closer, his lips brushing against your jawline, his breath warm against your chilled skin. “When it’s with you? Damn right it is”.

Before either of you could go further, the sound of the kids’ muffled giggles echoed through the window. Ben froze, glancing toward the frost-covered glass, then back at you, his grin faltering for just a moment before it returned full force.

“Saved by the brats”, he murmured, though there was no real annoyance in his tone. He leaned back, giving you space to sit up as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “Guess you get a pass this time”.

You laughed, buttoning your shirt back up as you pushed his chest playfully. “You’re impossible”.

Lila, hands pressed to the glass. “Eww, Mommy and Daddy you´re gross!”, she teased, sticking her tongue out dramatically, while Logan laughed and shook his head, clearly trying to act like he wasn’t entertained but failing miserably.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Lila’s exaggerated expression, her hands still pressed against the window as she made a show of grossing herself out. Logan, on the other hand, was doing his best to look serious, though the laughter that bubbled up from his chest betrayed his attempt to remain mature.

“Eww, Mommy and Daddy always kissing!”, Lila mumbled with a playful scrunch of her nose, her voice full of mock disgust. She stuck her tongue out again, clearly enjoying the attention.

Logan, trying his best to be the older, wiser sibling, crossed his arms and shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “You guys are so embarrassing”, he said, though the way his eyes sparkled showed he didn’t actually mind one bit.

Ben, standing beside you, glanced at you and then back at the kids. His grin softened, and he leaned down toward you, speaking in a voice only you could hear. “They don’t have a clue, do they?”, he said with a quiet chuckle.

You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully at the scene unfolding in front of you. “Not a single one”.

Lila, clearly not done yet, leaned closer to the window, still giving you both the dramatic “eww” face. “You’re gonna make us barf!”, she announced loudly, her face scrunching as though it was all just too much to bear.

Ben couldn’t help but laugh at his daughter’s antics. “What are you two up to, huh?”, he called through the window. “Making fun of your parents? You should be building that snowman”.

Lila, always the instigator, puffed out her chest proudly. “We already did!”, she declared. “But now we’re watching you guys because it’s funny!”.

As Lila stood there, still making faces at you and Ben, Logan saw the perfect opportunity to sneak away. Without warning, he grabbed his younger sister by the hand, pulling her away from the window with a quick tug.

“C’mon, Lila!”, Logan urged, his voice filled with excitement. “Let’s finish the snowman! Dad and Mom are being all gross again!”.

Lila let out a reluctant giggle but quickly followed, her mittens flapping as she tried to keep up with her brother. “Okay, okay, but only if we can give him a crown!”; she shouted, already planning the next addition to their snow creation.

Ben watched them go with a fond smile before his gaze shifted back to you. His grin softened as he stood beside you, his arms crossing in that familiar, relaxed way. “You okay?”, he asked, his voice quieter now, with an undercurrent of concern.

You sighed, keeping your eyes on the kids as they ran back into the snow, their laughter a welcome distraction from the heaviness of the moment. “I think you need to ease up with him, Ben”, you mumbled, your voice soft but steady. “You’re demanding too much from him. He’s just 8”.

Ben didn’t respond right away. His gaze followed Logan and Lila for a moment, his jaw working as though weighing your words. You could see him considering it, but you knew how hard it was for him to let go of the lessons, the expectations he had for Logan. It had been instilled in him—toughness, strength, independence. But Logan was still a child, and there was only so much he could handle before it became too much.

Ben turned to you, his expression slightly guarded but not entirely dismissive. “I’m not asking him to be something he’s not”, he said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m just trying to make sure he doesn’t get soft. The world isn’t gonna treat him like a kid forever”.

You crossed your arms, feeling a knot form in your stomach as you looked at him. “He is a kid, Ben”, you said, your voice rising a little, frustration creeping in. “Let him be one. You can’t push him to grow up this fast. You can’t always expect him to be your mini-me, a smaller version of you. He’s Logan, not Soldier Boy”.

“I’m just trying to prepare him. If he’s not tough enough, the world will eat him alive. You know that as well as I do”.

You shook your head, exhaling slowly, trying to rein in your emotions. “I know, but there’s a balance. You can teach him those things, Ben, but not at the cost of his childhood. He’s just 8”. You softened your tone, meeting his gaze directly. “I just… I just don’t want him to resent you. I don’t want him to think he has to be something he’s not to earn your approval”.

Ben was quiet for a moment, and you could see the internal battle in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, chewing on the words for a second before letting out a long breath.

Ben’s silence lingered, his jaw tightening as your words sank in. You could see the tension ripple through him, the way his shoulders stiffened and his gaze faltered. You hesitated, carefully choosing your next words, not wanting to push him too far but needing him to understand.

“You should know it best, Ben”, you mumbled softly, almost afraid of how he’d react. Your voice wavered, but you held his gaze. “You know what it’s like to feel like you’re never enough, no matter how hard you try. You’ve told me… how your dad was with you”.

The words hit him like a physical blow, and you saw it immediately. His confident, almost cocky exterior faltered, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see. His mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, he looked away, his eyes drifting toward the snow-covered yard where Logan and Lila were playing.

“Don’t”, he finally muttered, his voice rough, strained. “Don’t bring him into this”.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Ben”, you said gently, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm. “I’m just saying… you know how it feels to grow up under that kind of pressure. Always trying to live up to someone else’s expectations, never feeling like you’re enough. You’ve told me you hated it. And I know you never want Logan to feel that way”.

Ben’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound filled with frustration—but not at you. At himself. His shoulders sagged slightly, and he finally looked back at you, his green eyes clouded with something between regret and resolve.

“I don’t”, he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want him to feel like that. Ever”.

“Then let him breathe, Ben”, you urged, your voice soft but steady. “He’s just a kid. He needs to know he’s enough as he is. That he doesn’t have to be the toughest or the strongest to make you proud. He just has to be Logan”.

Ben rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers dragging down to rest at his chin. He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders rising and falling as he processed your words. “You think I’m turning into him, don’t you?”, he asked quietly, almost to himself.

You shook your head firmly. “No, I don’t. You’re not your dad, Ben. You’re already so much more than he ever was. But sometimes… sometimes I think you’re carrying his shadow. And it’s time to let it go. For Logan. For you”.

Ben let out a slow exhale, his shoulders relaxing just slightly as your words settled between you. You leaned up and kissed his cheek gently, the warmth of the moment cutting through the tension that had lingered in the air. His eyes softened as he looked down at you, though he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You could tell he was listening, really listening, and that was enough for now.

“I’m going to get the kids”, you said softly, brushing your hand along his arm before stepping toward the door.

He nodded once, his gaze following you for a moment before shifting back to the snowy yard, where Logan and Lila were laughing together as they finished up their snowman.

“Alright, you two!”, you called, standing in the door, your voice cutting through their laughter. “Time to come inside! Wash your hands, and then we’re going to bake some cookies”.

Lila’s face lit up, and she immediately clapped her mittened hands together. “Cookies!”, she squealed, already abandoning the snowman and running toward you with excitement. “Can we make the ones with the sprinkles?”.

“Of course, sweetheart”, you said, catching her as she barreled into you. “But first, upstairs. Wash up”.

Logan, however, lingered behind, his small figure standing just a few feet from the snowman. His expression shifted slightly, the bright enthusiasm dimming as he avoided your eyes. You could tell something was on his mind.

“Logan”, you called gently, holding the door open as Lila darted inside. “Come on, sweetie. Time to wash up”.

He trudged toward you slowly, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. When he finally reached you, he hesitated once more, his small boots crunching in the snow, but he kept his gaze low, his face unreadable. You crouched down to his level, brushing some of the snow off his coat. You tilted your head slightly, trying to meet his eyes.

“Logan, sweetie”, you said gently, “Do you not want to bake cookies? It’s okay if you don’t feel like it”.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly before darting away again. This time, they landed where Ben still stood, his broad figure shadowed by the light from the living room. Ben had turned slightly, his gaze now fixed on the two of you at the door, his expression unreadable but clearly focused.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, his small hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Then, he shook his head firmly. “It’s… it’s women’s stuff”, he muttered, his tone wavering. Without waiting for your response, he turned abruptly, his small boots stomping against the hardwood floor as he headed for the stairs.

“Logan”, you called after him gently, but he didn’t stop. You caught a glimpse of his face before he disappeared up the staircase—the tight set of his jaw, the way his lips pressed together like he was fighting something back. And then you saw it: the tears gathering in his eyes.

Your heart sank as you realized what was really going on. Logan usually loved baking cookies, that much you knew. He had always lit up at the chance to mix dough, sprinkle sugar, and get his hands messy in the process. But he wouldn’t admit that in front of Ben, not after what he thought his dad believed about “women’s stuff”. And Logan sure as hell wasn’t going to let Ben see him cry.

You sighed, glancing back at Ben, his expression unreadable. He had been watching the entire exchange, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. For a moment, you thought he might come, might say something, but he stayed frozen in place, his eyes following Logan’s retreat.

Without saying a word, you stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you and heading upstairs. As much as you wanted to comfort Logan, you also knew that Ben needed to face this moment, to see the impact of his words—not just through your eyes, but his own.

You found Logan in his room, curled up on the edge of his bed, his back to the door. His small shoulders trembled slightly, though he tried to keep quiet. It broke your heart to see him like that, trying so hard to hold everything in.

“Logan?”, you said softly, stepping into the room. You sat down on the edge of the bed, careful to give him space. “It’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to hide it from me”.

“I’m not upset”, he muttered, his voice muffled. “I don’t care. I hate baking cookies”.

You reached out gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay if you do care. And it’s okay if you love baking cookies, Logan. That doesn’t make you less of anything”.

He didn’t respond at first, but after a long pause, he whispered, “Dad thinks it does”.

Those words hit you hard, and you had to take a moment to steady yourself. “Your dad doesn’t think that, sweetie. He just… sometimes he says things without thinking. But that doesn’t mean he’s right”.

Logan finally turned to look at you, his tear-streaked face breaking your heart all over again. “He’ll think I’m weak”, he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t want him to think I’m weak”.

You pulled him into a gentle hug, holding him close as his small frame shook against you. “Logan, you’re not weak”, you said firmly. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. And being strong doesn’t mean hiding the things you love. It means being brave enough to be yourself”.

At that moment, you heard footsteps approaching. The door creaked open slightly, and you looked up to see Ben standing in the doorway. He hesitated, his expression soft but conflicted as his eyes landed on Logan. He didn’t say anything right away, but the regret on his face was clear.

“Logan”, Ben finally said, his voice quieter than usual. He stepped into the room, his broad figure filling the small space as he crouched down next to the bed.

Logan’s reaction was immediate and almost frantic. He pulled away from your embrace, turning his back to both you and Ben as he roughly wiped at his face with his small fists. His movements were sharp and deliberate, as though he was trying to erase the evidence of his tears before anyone could say a word.

“I’m fine”, he muttered, his voice tight and trembling. “I wasn’t crying”.

You glanced at Ben, whose face tightened at the sight. You could see the regret and guilt pooling in his eyes, the weight of his own words and lessons crashing down on him as he watched his son fight so hard to suppress his emotions.

Ben cleared his throat, his voice softer than usual. “Logan, you don’t have to do that. It’s okay—”.

“I said I’m fine!”, Logan snapped, spinning around to glare at him. His eyes were red and glassy, but his jaw was set in defiance. “Women cry. That’s what you always say. So I’m not crying”.

Ben froze, visibly taken aback by the raw honesty in Logan’s voice. For a moment, he just stared, his mouth opening slightly as if to respond but no words coming out. It was like he was looking into a mirror of himself, the echoes of his father’s harsh lessons staring back at him in his own son’s tear-streaked face.

You saw the way Ben’s shoulders sagged, his defenses crumbling as Logan’s words hit him harder than any punch ever could. He finally sat down on the floor next to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, making sure he was on Logan’s level.

Your heart aching as you watched Logan’s small figure tremble with frustration, hurt, and confusion. You couldn’t take it anymore. Turning to Ben, your voice came sharp and firm, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade.

“Fix this, Ben”, you said, your tone leaving no room for argument. Your eyes locked on his, stern and unwavering. “That’s my baby boy, and I will not let him feel like this because of something you’ve said”.

Ben’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He knew you were right, and the weight of the situation was already pressing down on him. You took a deep breath, your own emotions threatening to spill over, and with one last look at both of them, you turned on your heel and left the room. Your own eyes were glassy, tears threatening to fall as you closed the door softly behind you.

In the quiet of the hallway, you leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to your chest as you tried to steady your breathing. Hearing Logan say those words, seeing the pain etched on his small face—it was almost too much to bear. But you trusted Ben to handle it. He had to handle it.

Inside the room, Ben remained seated on the floor, his gaze fixed on Logan, who was still turned away from him. The boy’s small hands clenched into fists at his sides, his head bowed low as he tried to mask the occasional sniffle that escaped him.

“Logan”, Ben started softly, his voice steady but carrying a rare gentleness that was almost foreign. “Can I tell you something? Something about me?”.

Logan didn’t respond, but Ben noticed the slight twitch of his shoulders, the way his posture stiffened just enough to show he was listening. Ben took that as his cue to continue.

“When I was your age”, Ben began, leaning forward slightly, “My dad used to say the same things to me. He’d tell me that crying made me weak. That showing how I felt was… wrong. And I believed him. I thought if I ever let myself cry, or feel scared, or be anything other than ‘tough’, I was a failure”.

Logan shifted slightly but still didn’t turn around. Ben kept going, his voice growing heavier with emotion.

“And you know what? For a long time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t let myself feel anything, really. I just kept it all inside, like I was supposed to. But it didn’t make me stronger, Logan. It made me angry. It made me feel alone. Like I had to handle everything by myself, and no one else could ever understand”.

Finally, Logan turned, his tear-streaked face filled with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “You?”, he asked, his voice cracking. “You felt like that?”.

Ben nodded, his eyes meeting Logan’s with an honesty that he rarely let anyone see. “Yeah, kid. I did. And it wasn’t until I met your mom—until I had you and Lila—that I realized how wrong my dad was. Being tough doesn’t mean keeping everything inside. It doesn’t mean pretending you don’t care or don’t hurt. Being tough means letting yourself feel all of it and still finding the strength to keep going”.

Logan sniffled, his fists unclenching as he wiped at his eyes again. “But you said—”.

Ben let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair, his frustration with himself evident. “I know what I said”, he repeated, his voice carrying that gruff edge that always came with vulnerability. “And yeah, I messed up. I say a lot of dumb shit, Logan. Your mom would probably tell you I’ve got a talent for it”.

That earned a small, almost involuntary laugh from Logan, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. Ben’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, the faintest hint of relief flickering in his eyes.

“But here’s the thing”, Ben continued, his voice softening again as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I don’t want you to grow up thinking you’ve got to be me. Hell, I don’t even like half the crap I’ve done. You’re better than that. Better than me”.

Logan stared at him, his tear-streaked face a mix of surprise and confusion. “But you’re… you’re, like, the strongest guy ever. You’re not scared of anything”.

Ben chuckled, the sound low and rough as he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not scared of anything, huh?”. He smirked, shaking his head. “Kid, I’m scared as shit of your mom”.

Logan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden confession. “What? Mom?”.

“Yeah, your mom”, Ben said, his tone a mix of humor and honesty. “You think I’m out there facing down bad guys like it’s no big deal? That’s nothing compared to when she gives me the look”. He mimicked an exaggerated version of your stern glare, crossing his arms and tapping his foot, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Logan giggled, the tension melting further as he watched his dad pretend to shrink under an invisible scolding. “Really?”.

“Oh yeah”, Ben said, nodding seriously. “One time I forgot to take the trash out. She didn’t even yell—she just stood there, arms crossed, staring me down like I’d committed a fucking war crime”. He mock-shuddered. “I’d rather face supervillains".

Logan laughed harder this time, wiping his face again, though the tears were gone now, replaced by a small, genuine smile.

Ben leaned closer, his expression softening. “Look, kid, being scared isn’t a bad thing. It just means you care about something—or someone. Like how I’m scared of messing up with you and your sister. And yeah, I’m scared of your mom sometimes, but only because she’s got this way of making me want to be better, even when I screw up”.

Logan tilted his head, considering his dad’s words. “So… it’s okay to be scared?”.

Ben nodded firmly. “Scared, nervous, happy, mad—it’s all part of being human. What matters is what you do with it. And right now?”. He gave Logan a lopsided grin. “We’re gonna take those feelings, roll up our sleeves, and bake the best cookies this house has ever seen. You in?”.

Logan hesitated for a second before nodding, his smile growing. “I’m in”.

Ben stood, holding out a hand to help Logan up. “Good. But fair warning—your mom’s probably waiting outside that door to see if I fixed this. And if she’s still mad at me, I might need you to tell her I did a good job. Deal?”.

Logan laughed, taking his dad’s hand and standing up. “Deal”.

When the door opened, you were standing there in the hallway, arms crossed but a soft smile on your face. Ben gave you a sheepish grin, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, boss. Mission accomplished”.

You shook your head, stepping aside to let them pass. “For now”, you said teasingly, though the gratitude in your eyes said everything you didn’t.

As the three of you headed downstairs, Logan walked between you and Ben, his small hand brushing against yours.

An hour later, the kitchen was alive with laughter and the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies. Logan and Lila sat at the table, surrounded by bowls of frosting and sprinkles, each focused on decorating their creations. Logan was surprisingly precise, carefully piping designs onto a gingerbread man, while Lila was happily dumping an entire handful of rainbow sprinkles onto one cookie, creating a chaotic masterpiece.

You leaned against Ben, his warmth a steady comfort as you watched the kids. His arm slid lazily around your shoulders, and he let out a soft sigh, one that carried a mixture of exhaustion and relief.

“You did good today, Soldier Boy”, you murmured, grinning up at him. Standing on your tiptoes, you reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips brushing the faint stubble there.

Ben smirked, a small chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Yeah, well”, he started, clearly about to respond with one of his usual witty comebacks, when—

“Ewww!”, Lila groaned dramatically from the table, dragging out the word as she scrunched her nose and waved her hands like she was fending off a swarm of bees. “Mommy and Daddy are being gross again!”.

Logan snickered, not looking up from his cookie but clearly amused by his sister’s reaction. “Told you they do that all the time”, he said with a teasing grin. “It’s so embarrassing”.

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you with an exaggerated look of mock offense. “Didn’t realize we were raising such critics”, he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Ben shook his head, smirking as he turned toward the kids. “Alright, listen up, you two. You keep calling us gross, and I’m eating all these cookies myself. No sprinkles, no frosting, just plain cookies. How’s that for embarrassing?”.

“Daddy, nooo!”, Lila shrieked, clutching one of her sprinkle-covered cookies protectively to her chest. “You can’t! These are mine!”.

Ben’s smirk deepened as he took a deliberate step toward the table, his eyes locked on one of Lila’s chaotic sprinkle-covered cookies. “Oh, really?”, he drawled, his tone teasing and slow. “You think you can stop me, little miss sprinkle queen?”.

Lila gasped dramatically. “Daddy, no!”, she squealed, scooting back in her chair and holding up a hand to block him. “You can’t take this one! It’s perfect!”.

“Perfect, huh?”, Ben quirked an eyebrow, inching closer, his large frame towering over the table. “Let me see. Gotta make sure it’s up to regulation”.

“It’s mine!”, Lila shouted, jumping out of her chair and running around to the other side of the table, her plate wobbling in her hands. “Go eat Logan’s cookies instead!”.

“Hey!”, Logan said, finally looking up from his carefully decorated gingerbread man. “Don’t drag me into this! My cookies are art”.

Ben burst out laughing, glancing over at Logan with mock offense. “Art, huh? Let me be the judge of that”. He reached out as if to grab one of Logan’s cookies, but Logan quickly pulled his plate away, holding it up high.

“Back off, Dad!”, Logan said with a grin, using his other hand to block him. “These are for Mom!”.

Ben stopped, placing his hands on his hips, his grin turning into a smirk. “Oh, for Mom, huh? Well, in that case…”. He lunged toward Lila, pretending to swipe for her plate.

Lila let out a delighted shriek, ducking under the table and crawling to the other side. “You’ll never catch me!”, she declared, her giggles filling the kitchen.

You leaned against the counter, watching the chaos unfold with an amused smile. “Ben”, you said, crossing your arms and giving him a mock stern look, “if you don’t leave their cookies alone, you’re not getting any of… mine”.

Ben froze mid-step, his hand still outstretched toward Lila’s plate, as your words hung in the air. Slowly, he turned his head toward you, one eyebrow raised, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, is that right?”, he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Not getting any of… yours, huh?”.

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze with a sly smile. “That’s exactly what I said”, you replied, the double meaning clear in your tone.

Before Ben could respond with one of his usual cheeky comebacks, Logan groaned loudly from his seat, his hands slapping the table. “I know you guys aren’t talking about cookies”, he muttered, rolling his eyes dramatically. “And for the record, I don’t want another baby sister, okay? One is enough”.

Ben blinked, taken completely off guard by Logan’s blunt statement. He let out a bark of laughter, leaning against the table for support as he pointed at Logan. “Kid, what the hell—where did that even come from?”.

“Logan!”, you gasped, though you couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up in your chest. “What are you talking about?”.

Logan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if he’d just solved a great mystery. “You guys are always giving each other those looks, and Dad’s always making those weird jokes”. He waved his hand in Ben’s direction. “It’s not rocket science”.

Ben, still chuckling, wiped a hand over his face as he shook his head. “The kid’s too smart for his own good”, he muttered, grinning at you. “He’s onto us”.

“Logan”, you said, trying to suppress your laughter and keep a straight face, “You are way too young to be worrying about this kind of thing”.

Logan kept his arms crossed, his gaze shifting between you and Ben as his face took on that serious, almost grown-up expression he liked to wear when he was deep in thought. “I’m just saying”, he said slowly, his voice losing some of its teasing edge, “you don’t need another kid. We’re good like this”,

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes slightly. There was something unspoken in his words, a flicker of uncertainty behind the bravado. He wasn’t just teasing—this was something else. But you knew better than to press him here, not in front of Ben, not when Logan was so guarded.

“Of course we’re good like this”, you said gently, leaning forward and resting your arms on the table. “But would another sibling be that bad?”.

Logan shrugged, his lips pressing together in that tight, nervous way he had when he didn’t want to say what he was really thinking. “I don’t know”m he mumbled, his eyes dropping to his cookie. “I just think… things are fine the way they are”.

Ben, still standing beside you, raised an eyebrow. He glanced down at you, clearly noticing the shift in Logan’s tone, but didn’t push either. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned casually against the counter.

Logan’s words struck a chord, and you could see the layers of concern in his small face—concerns he didn’t know how to voice yet. You gave Logan a warm smile, reaching over to ruffle his hair gently.

“You’re right, buddy”, you said softly. “Things are perfect just the way they are”.

Logan relaxed slightly at your reassurance, nodding as he returned his attention to his cookie. Ben gave you a questioning look, his eyebrow raised as if he were silently asking, What’s that about? You shook your head slightly, a silent later passing between you.

Because there was something you hadn’t told him yet—something that had been tugging at the back of your mind. You were late. Only a few days, but still. You were never late.

You hadn’t said anything to Ben yet because you weren’t ready to make it real, not until you were sure. But as Logan’s words played over in your head, you felt a swirl of emotions: uncertainty, anticipation, and a hint of fear.

Ben’s voice broke into your thoughts. “Alright, Logan”, he said, his tone light but laced with curiosity. “You better not be hogging all the good cookies over there. I need to taste-test those”.

Logan rolled his eyes, his small smirk returning as he pushed one of his neatly decorated cookies toward his dad. “Here, take one. But don’t mess up my frosting”.

Ben grinned, plucking the cookie off the plate with exaggerated care. “Wouldn’t dream of it, champ”.

When the kitchen filled with laughter again, you let yourself lean into the moment, deciding to hold off on the conversation for now.

As the evening wore on, the warmth of the kitchen turned into the quiet hum of nighttime. Lila had curled up on the couch under a blanket, clutching a small stuffed animal in one hand and a half-eaten cookie in the other. Her eyelids had grown heavy, and eventually, she’d surrendered to sleep, her soft snores filling the cozy space.

Ben glanced over from where he was tidying up the counter, his face softening as he took in the sight of his little girl. “Looks like the Sprinkle Queen’s out for the count”, he said, his voice low.

You smiled, drying your hands on a towel. “She had a big day. All those sprinkles wore her out”.

Ben crossed the room, scooping Lila into his arms with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times before. She stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but settled quickly against his chest, her tiny hand clutching at his shirt.

“I’ll take her up”, he said, his voice quiet but firm, as though it wasn’t up for discussion. You nodded, watching as he carried her out of the room, the sight of his broad figure cradling her so gently always tugging at your heart.

Logan appeared in the doorway then, his steps hesitant as he glanced between you and the direction his dad had gone. He crossed his arms over his chest, standing a little taller as if to remind you—and himself—that he didn’t need the same kind of care his little sister did.

“I don’t need anyone to bring me to bed”, Logan said, his voice firm but lacking the usual bite of defiance. “I can do it myself”.

You gave him a small smile, stepping closer. “I know you can, sweetheart”, you said softly. “You’ve been doing great. But you let me help when Dad’s not here. Maybe you can let him help tonight?”.

Logan hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor before looking back up at you. “Dad’s never… he doesn’t usually…”. He trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.

You crouched down, resting a hand gently on his shoulder. “Sometimes he doesn’t know how to ask”, you said gently. “But he’d love to, Logan. If you’re okay with it”.

Logan frowned, his small brows furrowing as he thought it over. Then he gave a small, almost reluctant nod. “Okay”, he mumbled, glancing toward the stairs. “But only if he doesn’t make a big deal about it”.

You smiled, brushing a hand through his hair. “Deal”.

By the time Ben returned, Logan was waiting at the foot of the stairs, his arms still crossed but his posture less tense.

Ben appeared at the top of the stairs, his heavy steps softening as he noticed Logan standing there, arms crossed in that telltale way that meant he was trying to appear tougher than he felt. Ben paused for a moment, taking in the sight of his son waiting for him, and his face softened in a way that only you seemed to notice.

“Looks like someone’s still up”, Ben said, his tone light but without the teasing edge he sometimes used. He walked down the last few steps, his movements slower, less hurried, as though giving Logan time to decide what he wanted.

Logan glanced at you briefly, then back at his dad. “I’m ready for bed”, he said, his voice neutral, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

Ben nodded, his hands settling on his hips as he studied his son for a moment. “Alright”, he said, his tone casual. “Let’s get you tucked in, then”.

Logan didn’t move at first, glancing at the floor like he was waiting for Ben to say more. When nothing else came, he gave a small nod and started up the stairs, his pace slower than usual. Ben followed closely behind, casting a quick glance at you as he passed. You gave him an encouraging smile, silently urging him to let this moment be what Logan needed.

When they reached Logan’s room, Ben paused in the doorway, watching as Logan climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to his chest. Logan fidgeted with the edge of the fabric, his small hands gripping it tightly.

Ben stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as Logan burrowed into his bed, the blanket clutched tightly to his chest. He let out a quiet sigh, stepping forward and crouching down beside the bed, his movements uncharacteristically gentle.

“You all set, champ?”, Ben asked, his voice low and steady.

Logan nodded, but his hands still fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, the kind that Ben hadn’t seen in a while. Without thinking too much about it, Ben reached out and grabbed the blanket, pulling it up snugly around Logan’s shoulders.

“Gotta make sure you’re tucked in properly”, Ben said, his tone shifting to something lighter, almost teasing. “Don’t want you freezing in the middle of the night”.

Logan giggled softly, his small voice breaking the quiet of the room. “Dad, I’m not gonna freeze”.

“Oh, you think so?”, Ben said, raising an eyebrow as he tugged the blanket even tighter around Logan, practically swaddling him. “What if a snowstorm hits? What if you wake up and there’s frost on your nose? Gotta be prepared”.

Logan laughed harder now, his small hands pushing at the blanket as he squirmed. “Dad! Stop, it’s too tight!”.

“Nope”, Ben said with mock seriousness, sitting back to admire his handiwork. “Perfect. You’re like a little burrito now. Nothing’s getting to you”.

“Dad!”, Logan squealed, his laughter breaking through the last of his earlier hesitation. He wiggled under the tightly tucked blanket, his face lighting up with a joy that reminded Ben of when he was younger, back before Ben had decided he was too big for things like this.

Ben grinned, leaning forward and ruffling Logan’s hair. “There we go”, he said softly. “That’s better. Haven’t heard you laugh like that in a while”.

Logan’s giggles faded into a warm smile, his eyes meeting his dad’s with a rare openness. “Thanks, Dad”.

Ben’s expression softened, and he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair off Logan’s forehead. “Anytime, kiddo. You know that”.

He stood slowly and glanced toward the door before he turned back to Logan, his voice low and serious now.

“Alright, get some sleep. Sweet dreams, champ”.

“Goodnight, Dad”, Logan murmured, his voice already heavy with sleep.

Ben hesitated for a moment, then leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Logan’s head, something he hadn’t done in years. Logan didn’t pull away, instead letting his eyes flutter closed as he sank deeper into his blankets.

———————————

A/N: Not that much of Christmas, but it’s snowy and cold. So let’s just count it, lol. 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

[onlyhereforthestories]

A Little Christmas Event (Mapi Leon x Reader)

Day 9. Sorry this is late I forgot to queue it! Also this title is shit but I couldn't think of one so.

The holiday season was in full swing, and this year, Mapi had been buzzing with excitement about the charity event the team was hosting. It was all she could talk about for weeks, her enthusiasm infectious. You were more than happy to join her, both of you ready to make it a night to remember for the kids and families coming to celebrate the season.

The event was held at a community centre decked out in holiday decorations. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, a giant Christmas tree stood in the centre of the room, and tables were set up with games, craft stations, and, of course, a Santa’s Grotto. Barcelona had pulled out all the stops, Mapi had been one of the first of the team to agree and had convinced a lot more to the girls to join too.

“Look at this place!” you said, glancing around as you took in the holiday decorations. “It’s like a Christmas wonderland.”

Mapi grinned, adjusting her festive green sweater. “I know, right? And I’m glad you’re here with me to see it.”

“Me too. I can’t wait to meet the kids and hand out gifts with you,” you replied, giving her hand a squeeze.

As the night began, families started trickling in, each one met with a warm welcome from Mapi and her teammates. She was a natural with the kids, her usually tough exterior softening as she bent down to greet them at their level, her smile wide and inviting. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as you watched her laugh and chat with them, her genuine warmth making each child feel special.

You and Mapi moved around the room, stopping to help at different activity stations. At the cookie-decorating table, Mapi immediately jumped into action, leading a demonstration for the kids on how to create snowman faces with icing and candy.

“Alright, everyone, this is where you show off your creativity,” Mapi said, grinning as she squirted a generous amount of icing onto her cookie.

A young girl beside her giggled, watching as Mapi’s snowman face turned into a gooey, delightful mess. “I think mine is better,” the girl said confidently, holding up her carefully decorated cookie, and Mapi burst out laughing.

“Okay, okay, you’ve definitely got me beat,” she admitted, playfully bowing to the girl. “But that means you have to share your tips with me.”

As they compared decorating techniques, you felt a tug on your sweater. You turned to see a little boy holding out a handful of sprinkles, his face hopeful.

“Can you help me with my cookie?” he asked shyly.

“Of course! Let’s make this the best cookie ever,” you said, leaning down to help him. Together, you added sprinkles, a tiny frosting scarf, and a snowman nose, the boy’s eyes lighting up with excitement at each detail.

After cookies, it was time for gift-giving. The team had gathered donations and bought a wide variety of toys, from board games and art kits to soccer balls and dolls. Mapi led you to a small stage where the gifts were arranged, and you both began helping the kids pick out their presents.

Mapi handed a soccer ball to one boy, who looked up at her in awe. “Are you really Mapi León?” he asked, wide-eyed.

Mapi grinned, squatting down to meet his gaze. “That’s me,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “You know, this ball has some of my power in it, so you’ll definitely score goals with it.”

The boy’s face lit up, clutching the ball to his chest as if it were the greatest treasure in the world. “Thank you!” he said before running off, looking back over his shoulder with an expression of pure joy.

“You’re like a superhero to them,” you whispered, watching the boy run back to his family.

Mapi chuckled, shaking her head modestly. “It’s funny. I think they give me more energy than I give them. Look how happy they are. That’s the real reward.”

You handed out gifts alongside her, each child bringing their own story and personality, their excitement filling the room with this energy that just couldn’t be matched. Some of them even recognized Mapi from her games and shyly asked for autographs or photos, and she obliged each request with genuine joy, sometimes pulling you into the photos as well.

“Come on,” she whispered to you at one point, tugging you into a picture with a group of kids. “They’ll have something to look back on and so will we.”

Toward the end of the event, the two of you found yourselves back by the tree, where a group of kids had gathered to hear a holiday story. Patri was reading aloud, and you and Mapi took seats on the floor nearby, listening with the kids as the story filled the room with a sense of peace and wonder.

As the story ended, Mapi glanced over at you, her eyes soft and a little tired, but happy. “I think this might be my favourite night of the year,” she whispered, leaning close.

You smiled, resting your head on her shoulder. “Mine too. You’ve made such a difference here tonight, Mapi. Look at them.”

She looked around the room, watching as the kids and their families gathered their gifts, their laughter and smiles lighting up the space. The simple joy in the room, the sense of community, and the shared holiday spirit made every moment feel even more meaningful.

As the event began winding down, the kids slowly filtered out, waving goodbye to you and Mapi with sleepy smiles and tight hugs. You helped clean up, stacking chairs and tidying up decorations, before finally stepping outside with her. The night was crisp and clear, stars twinkling above as you both took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill your lungs.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Mapi said, taking your hand as you walked toward the car. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

You squeezed her hand, glancing over at her with a smile. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Watching you with those kids… I feel lucky to be here with you.”

She grinned, pulling you into a warm hug under the starlit sky. “Well, you’re not getting rid of me now. You’re my partner in holiday charity events, for life.”

The drive back was quiet, both of you content and a little sleepy, but your hearts full from the warmth and joy of the night.

[m0nsterqzzz]

(wife) Natasha Romanoff x reader

word count: 1.8 k

- Snow Day -

summary - snow days with your wife and kids

a/n - ahhhhhh i love snow and natasha.

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

The moment Natasha jumps on top of you at 7am is the moment you decide to divorce her. 

Not seriously, but you did threaten to as she shook your body and practically screamed, “It’s snowing detka!” You opened one eye and sure enough, there was ice frost covering the outside of your bedroom windows and you could see snow covering the trees. 

“That’s nice honey. Now go back to bed.” She shakes her head, jumping off the bed and yelling as loud as she can- which is pretty fucking loud if you didn’t know-, “Kids! It’s snowing!”

Just like Natasha, your kids love the snow more than anything. Probably more than they love you. It's a few seconds before the cheering begins, and then your oldest sons come running into your room and jump onto the bed. “Wake up! Wake up!” Lev, the oldest, practically screams in your face, and then Andy- short for Anthony-, the middle child, lays his whole body weight on top of you. He’s fourteen years old, only two years younger than his older brother and eight years older than their little sister, but after years of working out with Natasha, he’s very strong and putting his whole body weight on top of you means basically cutting off your ability to breathe.

The sound of little footsteps entering the room makes you all stop, and Lena, your six year old daughter and youngest child, enters the room with her stuffed monkey in hand and crawls into the bed next to you. She loves the snow, but she also loves sleep just like you.

“Come here принцесса.” Lev mutters, grabbing his little sister from the bed and holding her in his arms. Her big brothers are her protectors, and if you and Natasha aren’t there to treat her like a princess, her brothers are.

“You wanna build a snowman little spider?” Andy asks, tickling her stomach as a method of waking her up. She giggles, a tired grin taking over her face as she looks out the window. “Snow day?” “Snow day Lena.” She nods, suddenly much more awake as she climbs out of his arms and back onto the bed. You think she's coming back to cuddle with you, but you should know by the devilish grin on her face- one very similar to your wifes- that is not true. She stands up on the bed, then lets her small body free fall onto yours. Was naming her after your sister in law (the one that totally did this shit to you a few months ago) a good idea? Probably not.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

And that's how you ended up gathering up all the scarfs in the house, which only turned out to be 4. Luckily, one of them was really long so you and Natasha can share it once you get outside. While the kids are in their rooms putting on thousands of layers, Natasha is in a tank top and leggings like she's about to go out on a run in the summertime. “Natalia. Where is your sweater? Sorry I meant, where are your sweaters? Plural because it’s fudging freezing outside.” 

She shrugs, continuing to make six cups of hot chocolate despite it being 7 in the morning. You chuckle. “The kids only need one cup each Nat.” She nods, looking down at the cups with a nervous smile. “I know…..three of these are for me.”

You grab a few sweaters for her, forcing her to put them on and then standing in front of her holding in a laugh at the now balloon shaped form of your wife. “You look um….you look amazing honey.” She can't see you considering the beanie going down to her nose and scarf up to about the same place but she can hear you searching through your pockets for your phone. “I know what you’re doing! Do I look stupid to you detka?”

“Yes….and this is going on the Avengers Christmas card.” You snap the photo, running away from her when she begins waddling towards you. 

You go stand out on the porch with her, waiting for your kids to come out and join you in the cold. Why they love the freezing temperatures will always be a mystery to you. When they come out, each kid is handed one cup of hot chocolate that they pull down their scarves to chug. They boy’s aren't too big as they’ve grown a lot over the years since you bought the pieces of fabric, but the new one you bought for Lena when winter season started is practically covering her whole head and Natasha has to pull it down in order to see the little girl's bright smile.

You take your seat at one of the rocking chairs you and your wife bought for your wrap around porch, piling several blankets over your lap and watching with a smile as the kids- that's including Natasha- run out into the chilly forest. When Lev was two years old and you had first adopted the few month old baby Andy, Natasha retired from her job as an Avenger and bought you and your kids a large piece of property and a big house. The land is filled with trees that kids spend evenings placing hide and seek in, and in the summer they go horseback riding with their mom. Natasha takes care of all the animals that live around the property and in the barn, and you spend days doing whatever you wish whether it's helping her or staying inside the house relaxing with the kids.

A snowball flies past your head, and you look up to glare at your wife. “Hey! Why are you looking at me? Look at them!” The redhead points to the kids, who stare at her bewilderment. “You know what? Fuck this.” You mutter, removing the blankets from your lap and running out into the snow. You form a snowball, hiding with your kids behind a stack of hay that Natasha left out the other day. Your wife was an Avenger, a spy, and a shield agent. That's all true. But you live with her. It’s not too hard to pick up on her habits. 

You can hear her crunchy footprints coming up behind the hay, but the kids have already formed even more snowballs so you hold up three fingers, slowly putting each on down until you have zero left. They all jump up, practically yelling war cries as they hit their mother with snowball after snowball. You take this chance to run into the forest nearby, hiding behind a tree with several snowballs in hand.

Once they run out of snowballs and the laughter dies down a bit, you sneak out from behind the tree and begin throwing the snow at the back of your wife. The children laugh, but she turns to you with a devil-like grin and you instantly know you’re in deep shit. “Okay Nat….Nat….our kids are watching. They can't see me go like this.” You dramatically tell her, only bringing more giggles out of your kids. 

“Get her mom!” Lev cheers, and your eyes widen as you look at him in mock offense. 

“Whose side are you on kid?” You ask. He shrugs, holding up another snowball and throwing it at Natasha's head.

“Neither. Every man for themselves!” He sprints into the forest, Andy close behind him and Lena standing out in the open with no snowballs in hand. 

Natasha grins at her, opening her arms for a hug. “Come here and give me a hug, little spider.” The six year old narrows her eyes at the Russian woman before sprinting after her brothers, but Natasha is already forming four snowballs when the little girl gets to the edge of the tree line.

You watch with a grimace as your wife throws each snowball at the back of the little girl, and the force of the snow makes Lena fall face first into a pile of coldness. You smack Natasha’s arm. “Natalia! She’s six years old!”

The redhead just laughs, turning her back to the forest as she grins at you. “She's my daughter. She can handle a couple snowballs to the face.” While she was defending letting her child get hypothermia, Lev and Andy were sneaking up behind her, each with a large pile of snow in their arms.

“Um….Nat-” You start with a giggle, but it's too late and the boys are lifting up the piles to drop them on top of her head. It breaks over her head, falling down in front and behind her like snow and leaving it all over her head and shoulders. “That was for Lena!” Andy yells and then they take back off to the forest, Natasha not far behind.

A few hours later, you watch as Natasha and the kids come back out of the forest, and then plop down in the snow with erratic breathing. You get up from your seat on the porch, walking onto the cold field and then laying down in it right next to your wife.

It's silent for a few minutes, but then the sound of shuffling begins. You look to your side to see Natasha moving her arms and legs, forming an angel looking shape in the snow. You all spread out a little before copying her movements. So that's what you guys do for like three minutes, before standing up and admiring your guy’s work. There are five different sized angels in the snow, the perfect replicas of you and your family.

“Mama. I’m cold.” With a small smile, Nat grabs her by her under arms and hoists her up on her shoulders. 

“I think that calls for more hot cocoa.” “Tasha-” You go to tell her that they’ve already had too much sugar and that Lena is practically shaking due to a sugar high, but she’s making her way into the house with the boys trailing behind her before you can say anything. You chuckle to yourself, following after them.

She’s already grabbing the packets of cocoa powder once you get inside, and the boys settle themselves on the couch as you snatch them from her. She groans, sending you her best pout. You've been married to her for a very long time though and rarely fall for that anymore. “No. They can have something else.” The redhead widens her eyes, trying to put on a puppy dog's face that has you laughing harder than you ever had.

“Fine.” You’re not going to tell her that the only reason you said yes is because Lena was doing the face too. The little girls were much cuter. They cheer, beginning to heat up some milk to put in the hot drink as you go sit down on the couch with your boys. 

Natasha and Lena join you guys, the older of the two sitting behind you on the couch so you can lay your back on her chest, and the boys let their little sister choose a movie which is why you end up watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Your wife isn’t focused on the movie though. She’s admiring you, how you chuckle at the funny parts as your eyes sparkle with joy.

Snow days are her favorite thing, but it’ll never compare to you.

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

[marauders-brain-rot]

Jegumas - Day 9: Holiday Movies - 541 words - @noblehouseofgay

Cw: trans pregnancy

Regulus and James had been steadily working their way through every holiday song they could find, creating a list of their favorites as they went. They’d already picked a handful of muggle ones as well as a few wizarding ones and they’d made up a pretty good list thus far. They’d just gotten through Frosty the Snowman when James said something that took Regulus by surprise. 

“What do you mean there’s a movie?” He asked, his eyes as wide as saucers. 

“There’s a holiday movie called Frosty the Snowman,” he answered with a laugh. 

“There’s holiday movies?” His excitement was palpable. 

“Of course there are, there’s loads,” ever since James had taken Regulus to see his first movie he’d been obsessed with them, always wanting to see whatever was coming out next. 

“Can we watch them?” It always twisted at James’s heart when Regulus asked him a question like that, like he was waiting for his simple request for joy to be stomped all over. 

“Of course we can! In fact there should be some on right now,” he reached and grabbed the remote from where it sat on the table and turned the television on. He’d gotten it for Regulus’s birthday last year after he discovered how much he loved watching shows and movies though he was kicking himself now for not thinking to show him holiday movies sooner. 

“What kinds of movies are there?” He asked excitedly as James flipped through the channels to find something. 

“Well there’s ones for kids and there’s ones for adults,” he paused his channel flipping when he saw the opening of a movie he thought Regulus would like. 

“What is it?” 

“You’ll see, just wait,” he answered with a fond smile. It wasn’t until the title card appeared that Regulus got really excited. 

“Frosty the Snowman?” He asked excitedly, sitting up and looking at James fully. 

“I thought you might like to watch it,” he felt the blush climbing onto his cheeks, because somehow even after all these years he was still nervous around his husband. 

“Thank you Jamie,” he gave him a soft smile and a peck on the cheek before settling back into his side and watching the movie. 

The two stayed there well into the hours of the night watching one movie after another, Regulus ranking them all on a scale of least to most Christmassy. It wasn’t until he’d been silent for a while that James realized his husband had fallen asleep curled against him on the couch. A fond smile tugged itself onto his lips as he picked the slightly smaller man up and carried him up the steps to bed. He hoped this is what the rest of their lives would be like together, movies late into the night before he could carry his love off to bed where they could wrap themselves up in one another. 

He’d never thought he could find this kind of happiness in his life, never considered he’d get his own happy ending with the most perfect person he’d ever met in his life. As he drifted off to sleep with his arms around the man he loved, his last thoughts were of how he couldn’t wait to start their family together.

[emchante]

bundled in warmth | d. ricciardo

part of the divorced dad! daniel series

super fluffy blurb based off of this anon here! family fun in the snow, daniel being a menace and you bonding with his kids is all you need to know! small suggestive comment at the end, but that's all.

daniel is in full dad mode when it comes to getting wrapped up for the snow. listen, he’s australian, he’s loves the warmth. when it’s cold? that man needs to be in multiple layers just to be at average heat. so you know damn well he’s wrapping his kids up.

puffy jackets, beanies, gloves, scarfs, winter socks, snow boots— they’re kitted out.. for a hike in a blizzard, not some fun in the snow. but you know daniel is just being caring, even if it’s a little extreme.

he zips his daughters jacket right up, leaving a kiss on the top of her little nose as she giggles. you’re fixing his sons beanie for him before he engulfs you in a big hug, just like his father would. when they’re both ready, daniel is kitted up even more than them, and you’re in your own fluffy clothes, you all dash outside.

the snow had fallen over night, and god it was gorgeous. it had stuck, and it was up to just above your ankles. the kids were ecstatic, running around and marking the snow with their footprints— daniel’s daughter making a heart by putting her two boots together.

you were smiling at the sight, about to call out to them when something hit your back. you caught yourself after a couple steps, but you instantly turned round to daniel looking anywhere but you, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“really?” you ask, a giggle escaping you as you wiggle your shoulders, trying to shake off the excess snow from daniel’s snowball. daniel looks at you now, eyes widened with (faux) surprise.

“really what? i was watching the kids, sweetheart,” he asks as he walks over to you. you sense something is.. off. you don’t catch it until the very last second, you realise daniel has his hands behind his back and suddenly— a snow ball to the chest.

you gasp, looking down as you try to wipe it all off as quick as you could. you might have a few layers on, but it didn’t stop the coldness from sleeping through. “daniel!” you shout, a whine escaping you at how cold you were becoming just from the snowball.

daniel rolls his eyes, smirk still present on his face, moving his hands to wipe down your chest with you. you warn him with a “careful,” knowing exactly what he was like. he laughs at you, knowing him too well for him to pull a move.

“there, all better,” he mumbles, pulling you into him. you wrap your arms around his waist, chin on his chest as you look up to him with a pout. he coos at the expression, leaning down to place a soft kiss onto your lips. “don’t look at me like that, you’ll make me feel bad.”

“as you should,” you huff, moving so your cheek was against his chest now. you squeezed him gently, initiating a more proper hug now. daniel happily obliged to it, hands rubbing up and down your back slowly as if to help warm you up, even just the tiniest bit.

your little moment was shortly interrupted by his two kids shouting on you both, begging for you to come to them. you looked up to daniel with an eyebrow raised. it wasn’t shouts of terror, but it wasn’t excitement either. neither of you could guess the issue, so daniel let you go, gently tugging one of your arms as he moved to hold your hand.

upon walking over, you’re met with his kids rolling a large snowball on the ground, huffing as they struggle to continue. to give credit where it’s due, you’re surprised they got it so big with how little strength they have at their age. they both turned to you, looking at you with those big puppy dog eyes that they had gotten from their father.

“can you please help us?” his daughter whined, sighing as she took her hands off the snowball. “we want to build a snowman! but it’s too hard,” his son joined in, folding his arms in frustration. the little looks of desperation and annoyance were cute, and of course you were going to help them out.

you and daniel helped push the large snowball they had already began to make, as the two kids started another one— presumably the middle section. when you and daniel were finished with the base, thankfully the kids had almost finished the middle. and then, the head didn’t take that much longer. it was.. a bit wonky, but not everything is perfect.

the kids ran off, searching for two large sticks to substitute as the snowman’s arms. you went looking for some rocks, sticking them in the middle section to add buttons to the snowman. daniel ran back inside, fetching a carrot for the nose.

you and his kids were surprised when he came out with a packet of chocolate buttons, wondering what on earth they were for. “what? it’s his eyes and mouth?” daniel let out confused, as if you three were the weird ones. you slowly turned to his kids before you burst into giggles, daniel waving you off as he opened the packet, placing them onto the snowman’s face.

you all stood back, admiring the work you had spent the afternoon creating. only.. a gasp from his daughter broke the little moment of pride.

“he’s cold, daddy! he needs clothes!” she shouted, small hands on her rosy cheeks. daniel laughed, moving his hand onto her beanie-covered head as he rubbed it gently.

“he does, honey! but i’m not sure we have any spares for him that we can give,” daniel admitted, causing her to frown and her brother to deflate next to her. the view made your heartbreak, and you stared down at your own scarf before giving in.

“you know what,” you spoke up, making them all turn to you as they listened. you untied the knot in your scarf, slipping it off of your neck as you walked over to the snow man. you wrapped it around him, a loose knot in the scarf to make sure it didn’t wander off while you were all gone.

“sweetheart, don’t—” daniel began, taking a step forward to take your scarf off of the snowman, but you put a hand out for him to stop, and he did just that. you took your hat off your head, shaking your head lightly from side-to-side so your hair would fall back into its natural state.

you placed your wooly hat atop of its head, fixing it into position before you stepped back, turning to his daughter. “see? all better. do you think he’s warmer now?” you ask her, smiling softly at her as she grinned widely at you. she bursts into a small run, hugging your leg as she thanks you over and over. you rub her head gently, eyes widening when her brother joins her and hugs your other leg. you let out a giggle at them, your own smile widening when you feel a warmth at your back.

daniel wraps his arms around your waist, each hand resting on either of his kids heads. it’s a nice group— family hug, and you’ve never felt happier than you currently felt. daniel places a kiss onto your neck, and you melt into his touch instantly.

the moment doesn’t last forever though, as daniel feels you shivering as they all hug you. he suggests going back inside now, adding in that ‘it’s just a break’, incase the kids were to fight it. surprisingly though, they didn’t. they both agreed almost instantly, saying how tired they were and daniel said it was the perfect opportunity for them to nap.

the kids ran ahead, almost falling up the stairs as they raced one another to their room. daniel had his arm around your shoulder as he walked you inside, softly scolding how silly it was for you to do that. you rolled your eyes as he went on about how you’d end up catching a cold, or something even worse. now you know where his kids get their over-exaggerating storytelling from, too.

you leave daniel to tuck the kids in, walking into daniel’s room as you lay on the bed, covering yourself in the blanket pile. you close your eyes while you wait for him to come back, and when he does— he has a wide smirk on his face. he pounces on the bed above you, leaning down and smothering you with kisses as you giggle and try to hide from him.

“c’mon sweetheart, how about you and i catch a shower together? let me take care of you,” and oh, you’re tempted.

⋆˙⟡ enjoy this? come chat to me through my ask box, publicly or on anon! i’d love to talk to you and hear your thoughts about it <3

[thesparkling-diamond27]

My Snowflake❄️

Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend spend a fun day in the snow

A/n: This isn’t really a Christmas story, but it can be if you want it to be. This is a continuation of “Meet me under the mistletoe”, but you don’t have to read it to understand, the plot is explained, so prior knowledge isn’t necessary. I hope you enjoy!

Fiyero and I were both currently on my bed. My back was leaning against the headboard and Fiyero’s head was in my lap. Acasionally I would run my fingers through his hair whenever I turned the page.

“How much longer.” Fiyero whined from his spot on the bed.

“Not much longer.” I counted how many pages I had left until the end of the chapter, “I have about 5 pages left.”

Fiyero pouted and I kissed his lips.

“Just a little while longer love I promise.” I said.

Fiyero nodded in defeat before he started to play with one of my hands.

I read a couple more pages before Fiyero said, “Hey look it’s snowing.”

I looked away from my book and out the balcony doors and sure enough it was snowing.

“It is snowing. It’s beautiful.”

It really was a beautiful sight and it was the first snowfall of the year. Fiyero rose from his spot from my lap and walked over to the balcony doors. He looked out at the ground below before a huge smile spread across his face.

“Do you know what we should do?” Fiyero asked as he turned around to face me.

“What?” I asked.

“We should play in the snow?” He said with a smile, but I looked at him confused.

“You want to play in the snow?”

“Yeah it’s fun. Didn’t you do that as a kid?”

I shook my head and that caused Fiyero to immediately rush to my side and sit in front of me on my bed. He gave a look like I just told him that somebody died.

“You’re telling me that you’ve never played in the snow? You never built a snowman, made snow angels, went sledding, or had a snowball fight?”

“No I don’t think so. I lived in the Emerald city where there are a bunch of buildings. There’s no room to do any of that stuff.”

“Well we’re going to change that.”

Fiyero grabbed my book out of my hand and placed it on his nightstand, making sure to place the bookmark where I left off. He grabbed my coat from the coat rack and he held it up for me.

I stood from my bed and I allowed Fiyero to place my coat on me. I put a hat, scarf and gloves on as Fiyero did the same. When we were both suited up we both walked out of my room hand in hand.

On the way to the open field, I couldn’t help, but stare at Fiyero. He was extremely giddy as he began to list all the activities we could do in the snow and he looked like a kid on Christmas morning. It made me smile. Eventually we made it to the open feild.

“There’s enough snow for us to make a snowman. Do you want to start with that?” Fiyero asked.

“I don’t even know where to start so I guess we can.” I said with an excited grin.

Fiyero grinned back and then he led me to a patch of snow.

“Okay well first we have to gather a bunch of snow and compact it into a small ball.” Fiyero demonstrated as he explained. He gathered a bunch of snow and compacted it into a small ball.

Then little by little he added more snow to the small ball of snow and compacted it together. He continued to compact the ball with more snow until he created a small boulder sized ball of snow.

Fiyero stood up and created a tada pose, “Tada! The perfect base for a snowman. Now we just have to do it again, but on top of this one.”

I nodded and together the two of us started to assemble another ball of snow. I carefully watched Fiyero first, before I jumped in and began to help and in no time we had the middle section of the snowman.

Finally we moved on to the last ball of snow, the head, and when we were finished we took a step back and admired our snow sculpture.

“It’s beautiful.” I said.

“Yes it is darling, but it’s not done yet. Now we have to add the face and arms, and the three buttons.”

After Fiyero’s words I wasted no time in looking for sticks for arms. I don’t know what came over me, but all of a sudden I felt happy and giddy. I’ve never built a snowman before and I felt like a kid again.

As I crouched down to the ground to look for a decent sized stick, I didn’t realized Fiyero who was staring at me with a smile on his face.

I found two good sized sticks and I quickly ran over to Fiyero.

“Are these good sticks for arms?” I asked.

Fiyero looked down at the sticks in my hands.

“They’re perfect angel.” He said before he kissed the top of my head. “Put them on the snowman.”

I walked over to the snowman and I carefully stuck the sticks into the sides of the middle snow boulder. I took a few steps back and stood next to Fiyero.

“Now we need to make the face.”

Fiyero said.

He began to search for some pieces for the face and I went and did the same. I found two stones that looked similar enough to be eyes and I walked over to the snowman.

I saw Fiyero placing objects on the snowman’s face. He stepped back and the snowman had a big wide smile and three buttons going down in a line on the middle section. I giggled as I placed the two stones where the snowman’s eyes would be. I took a step back and inspected our work.

“Don’t snowmen have a carrot for a nose?” I asked.

“They do, but since we don’t have any, we’ll have to improvise.”

Fiyero walked up to the snowman and began to draw on his face. He walked back to me and I got a good look at the nose he drew.

It was a good looking nose, but it didn’t look too good on the snowman. I immediately burst into laughter.

“What? Why are you laughing.” But Fiyero was laughing himself.

“That nose looks so weird on the snowman.” I said through laughs.

“Well at least our snowman has a nose!”

My laughter finally died down.

“I suppose so.”

“Well I guess our snowman is complete.” Fiyero stated.

I looked back at the snowman and felt like it was missing something. Then an idea popped into my head. I took my scarf off and I wrapped it between the second and third boulder where the snowman’s shoulders would be.

“Now our snowman is complete.” I said. Fiyero chuckled before he placed a kiss on my lips.

“Now our snowman is complete.”

“Now what?” I asked.

“Well…” Fiyero had a mischievous look on his face and now I was afraid of what he was going to do. Word of advice. If you ever see a mischievous look on Fiyero’s face run before it’s too late.

However, it was too late for me because when I started to make a run for it he threw a snowball at the back of my head. I felt immediate cold as the snow hit my neck and went down my coat. I knew I’ll definitely be cold as soon as the snow melts.

I slowly turned around and saw Fiyero hunched over due to him laughing too hard. Oh so you want to play that game huh I thought. I grabbed a handfull of snow and began to compact it into a small ball.

As the snow molded into my hand I felt it getting firmer, opposite from the fluffy feeling the snow once had before.

Fiyero was too busy laughing, so I used this as my opportunity to pull the snowball back and throw it in the air. The snowball flew through the air in an arc shape, like a rainbow, before it hit Fiyero nice and hard right in the face.

Now I was one hunched over in laughter as I looked at Fiyero’s face that was now covered in snow. Fiyero had a grin on his face. Something that I wasn’t expecting to see.

“Oh it’s on!” Fiyero said before he began to gather some snow to make another snowball. I quickly did the same thing and me and Fiyero started a snowball fight. My first snowball fight.

We hit snowballs at each other to and fro. I hit Fiyero with my snowballs and he did the same. I even managed to dodge a few and I was pretty proud of myself for doing so.

I was now currently hiding behind the snowman we built, while I waited for Fiyero to make his next move.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Fiyero stated from the other side of the snowman and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“What’s the easy way?” I asked.

“You step out from behind the snowman and I hit you with the snowball in my hand.”

I laughed at his idea of the “easy way”. Yeah it was an easy way for him to beat me, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. If I was going to loose, I wasn’t going to go without a fight.

“I think I’ll take the hard way then.” I said.

“Hard way it is.” Fiyero chuckled.

I waited to see what he meant by the “hard way”, but my question was soon answered when something penetrated the snowman and the top half of the snowman fell on top of me. Now I was completely covered in snow.

I screamed with annoyance, but I couldn’t help, but laugh at the same time. Although I lost, and now completely covered in snow, I was having fun. I was having lots of fun.

“Okay you got me.” I said through laughter. “But can I hit you just once and you let me?”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you love me and since I lost, the least you can do is let me hit you.”

Fiyero looked at me and I gave him my best pout.

“Fine, but only one snowball.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” I said as I began to gather some snow to make snowball. I fully compacted the snow into a ball and I looked up at Fiyero who was standing in a starfish position.

“I’m assuming you’re ready.” I said with laughter.

Fiyero nodded with a smile. I pulled back the snowball before I let it sore through the air and hit him right in the chest. He was pushed back by the force of my throw and fell face first into the snow.

I began to laugh at his fall, but I soon stoped when he laid motionless on the ground. I quickly ran to Fiyero and I quickly threw myself on the ground next to his body. His shoulders were shaking and I could only assume he was crying.

Oh Oz! I just injured my boyfriend.

I grabbed his shoulders and turned him around and my fear turned into relief when I realized that his shoulders were shaking because he was laughing. My relief turned into anger and I slapped his chest after realizing that he was faking.

“Why would you do that! I thought I hurt you!” I shouted.

“It was funny.” He said as he laughed from his spot on the ground.

I hit his chest again, but before I pulled away he pulled me onto his chest. The momentum of his pull caused me to roll over and Fiyero and I began to roll in the snow in each other’s arm.

Laughter left both of our mouths until we made a complete stop. We stopped with Fiyero on top of me and he softly smiled at me before he kissed my lips. I melted into it and I put my hands on the side of his face.

His lips were cold as ice, but his kiss made me feel warm and I felt cold and warm at the and time. After a while Fiyero pulled away and he laid down next to me on the ground. He slowly inched his hand towards mine and he laced our hands together.

I looked at his face next to mine and smiled and he smiled back. Then I looked up at the night sky. The stars were shining extra brightly tonight and I could see the constellations. I smiled when I noticed my favorite constellation.

“Do you see that line of stars there and the two lines that branch out from it?” I asked as I pointed at the constellation in the sky.

Fiyero squinted his eyes and with a little guidance he was able to see the constellation I was talking about.

“That’s the Gemini constellation. Also known as the twins. It’s my favorite constellation.”

“Is it because you’re a Gemini? Fiyero asked.

(A/n: it could be any zodiac constellation if you would like it to be. I just chose Gemini because that’s my zodiac sign)

I nodded.

“My mother and I would go to the roof of our apartment building, lay down on a blanket, and look up at the stars. She taught me all the different constellations in the sky. It’s been a while since I looked at the stars, since I’m here at Shiz now.”

Fiyero said nothing, so I turned to look at him and he was already looking at me.

“Well if you want, the two of us can look at the starts together more often. Since you can’t look at them much with your mom anymore because you’re here.”

“Really?”

“Really. If you love to do it. Then I love to do it.”

I smiled at his words.

“I love you.” I said.

“I love you too.”

We smiled at each other before we both looked up at the sky. We both sat in silence in the cold and in the snow. I’m sure that tomorrow morning we would probably be sick in bed.

“So we built a snowman, which is now destroyed, and had a snowball fight, so now what?” I asked.

Fiyrero thought for a moment before saying, “Since we’re both already on the ground, why don’t we make snow angels!”

“How do we do that?” I asked.

“Your little knowledge of playing in the snow makes me so sad.”

“I guess these fun activities are a Winkie Country tradition.” I said.

“I guess so. Just like how the mistletoe is a tradition from the Emerald City.”

I nodded.

“You must have thought I was so stupid for not knowing the purpose of hung mistletoe.”

“I didn’t think you were stupid. I just thought you weren’t getting any of my hints!”

“Well I wasn’t, but not in the way that you thought.”

I giggled thinking about when Fiyero was confused with why I was so “obsessed” with mistletoe for a week. Only for me to come and find out that he didn’t know that mistletoe was meant for kissing.

“Well you know now.” I said.

“Yeah I do.”

Then I realized we got sidetracked.

“Snow angels.”

“Right.” Fiyero said. He scooched away from me a little bit, so that we both could have enough room to make a snow angel.

“Now you lay on the grand in a star position like this.” Fiyero said as he laid in the snow like a starfish. Just like how he was earlier except he was now laying on the ground.

“Then you move your arms and legs like this.” He started to move his arms up and down and his legs side to side.

After looking at what Fiyero was doing, I copied his actions and after a while Fiyero and I stood up to look at our snow angels. I looked down at them and they in fact looked liked angels in the snow.

“They do look like angels!” I said.

Fiyero chuckled at my excitement and nodded.

“I want to make another one!” I said. I walked over to a clear patch of snow and laid down to make another one. Fiyero laughed at my antics before he joined me in the snow.

We made about a dozen more snow angels, 6 each, and now we looked down at our garden of snow angels.

“What a masterpiece.” I said.

“An all over the place masterpiece, but still a masterpiece nonetheless.”

I lightly punched him in the ribs and he lightly pushed me in return.

“Does this commence our day of playing in the snow?” I asked.

“I would say no, but I don’t have a sled for us to slide down on, so I guess our day in the snow has come to an end.”

I pouted and Fiyero brought me into his arms.

“We could play again in the snow tomorrow snowflake.”

“Snowflake?” I looked at him curiously.

“Well we just finished a pretty fun day in the snow and I want to commemorate the day somehow. Snow doesn’t sound right, and I already call you angel (snow angel), so snowflake is the only choice. It’s snow and it describes you. Graceful, and delicate, but strong at the same time.”

I smiled at his explanation. “I love it.”

“Good because you’re my snowflake.”

Fiyero brushed his nose against mine and rested his forehead on my forehead. I didn’t want this moment to end, but I pulled away.

“I love this moment and all, but I’m freezing.” I said with chattered teeth.

“Let’s get you inside then.” He brought his arm over my shoulder and began to guide me back to the dorm, but I stopped him.

“Wait can we build the snowman once again?”

Fiyero looked back at the snowman and then back at me. My nose and cheeks were probably a crimson red and my lips chapped, which is probably why Fiyero had a conflicted look on his face. However, he could never say no to my pleading and the two of us began to rebuild the snowman.

About half of the snowman was destroyed, so we had to build the top part of the second snow boulder and then the head. When we finished again, we looked at our snowman one more time before we left to go back into the dorm.

We arrived back to my dorm and I shivered as I took off my coat.

“I’m going to take a shower just to warm up.” I said.

“Okay take your time.” Fiyero said with a smile.

I smiled back and then retreated to my roommate and I’s shared bathroom. I took my time with washing my hair, and then scrubbing off all the snow that I acquired (mainly from Fiyero).

Once I was done, I was all toasty and warm and I got dressed in the bathroom, before walking into my room to see Fiyero laying on my bed.

“Took you long enough. My shower was quick and easy. I’ve aged 30 years waiting for you to be done.” Fiyero said.

“I wanted to warm up, because someone thought it would be a good idea to dump a bunch of snow on me with their snowball.”

“Hey don’t hate the player hate the game.” Fiyero said with a smirk.

I laughed at his words, but I still chucked him in the face with one of my pillows, which caused him to laugh. I climbed into my bed and found my usual spot in Fiyero’s arms. He began to play with my hair, something he usually did.

“Thank you.” I said.

“For what?”

“For making me feel like a kid again.”

“Well in that case, you’re welcome snowflake.” He kissed the top of my head.

“That nickname is going to stick isn’t it? No pun intended.”

Fiyero laughed. “I’m afraid it will darling.” And then he brought me into a sweet and gentle kiss.

…

The next morning, I woke up and something felt off. I felt something in my throat, so I coughed a wet cough before I sneezed. Well I guess my predictions last night were right. I did get sick I thought.

I look over at Fiyero who was still snoozing with his arm around my waist. I slowly lifted his arm off of me, careful not to wake him, and I made my way to the balcony doors.

I looked down below and saw the snowman that Fiyero and I built. It was still standing in the frigid cold and that brought a smile to my face. I wonder how long it would last. A couple days maybe? A week? I smiled at the thought.

Playing in the snow was something I would never forget and it’s all thanks to Fiyero. I know for certain that playing in the snow will be something the both of us will do more often.

I heard a series of coughs and I turned around to see Fiyero sitting up in bed. He wiped at his eyes and he honestly looked awful, but he still looked handsome in my eyes. He probably was sick like me.

I cleared my throat before I said, “Hello love how are you feeling?” I walked back to my bed.

“Awful.”

I laughed before I climbed back into bed.

“Me too, but we have all day to do nothing in bed.”

“Sounds like a perfect day.”

And before I knew it Fiyero had pulled me back into bed and shortly after we both fell back asleep in each other’s arms

[sagesturns]

Snowy Affections

Summary: You build a snowman in the snow while Matt watches, then the two of you share a playful snowball fight, laughing in the winter chill.

contains: fluffy fluff fluff!

Soft and densely packed, snowflakes fall from the sky blanketing the entire earth in white color. The atmosphere is comforting and refreshing; the kind that makes one on someone’s breath foggy and even turns the end of their nose red. You are all smiles and excitement, almost jumping in the snow, your hands in the air scooping newly fallen snow and packing it into a ball with remarkable precision that is hard to ignore. 

“Matt!” you exclaim cheerily, like a kid who has just found a hidden treasure “Come help me with the snowman!” A few steps back, Matt regards you, quite amused, his smile dancing on his lips. He is wearing a heavy coat, his hair wind-swept, his hands deep in his pockets, looking at your artistry.

Determined and focused you are, presenting the best snowman possible. Grasping the last cylindrical piece of snow rolled across the backyard. 

The thing is already taking shape—lopsided but full of personality, with twigs for arms, a scarf wrapped haphazardly around the middle, and your trademark grin plastered on its round, snowy face.

You catch Matt staring, a soft, fond look in his eyes as he observes you, watching the way your hands move as you build. The snowman may not be perfect, but you are—at least in Matt’s eyes.

There is a short break where he gets rid of the thought of helping you at all. He loses himself in the picture of you, beaming with a glow on your red cheeks that he could only imagine thanks to the winter and your messy hair strands which are settled around your face. He appreciates the way your nose wrinkles each time you laugh, and how very handsome his smile is, whilst quite a cold winter surrounds them and yet it is so warm within the bubble that is surrounding the cold. 

“Matt?” you call out again after a small pause though this time a tad more desperately. “What the hell are you doing over there? Come and help me lift my snowball’s head!”

He came back to his senses, blinking, thankful that he was forced to take in the sight for not that long.

“Right! Head,” he says, shaking himself from his thoughts. He takes a few hurried steps toward you, scooping up some snow and quickly starting to form the snowman’s head.

But before he gets all that far, he pauses again, watching you in that quiet way that makes your heart flutter. You're so free, your laughter ringing out like the jingle of bells, and he can't look away.

His movements slow down, and before he realizes it, Matt walks over to you where you're kneeling by the snowman. In complete silence, he slides his hands around your waist, pulling you toward him. You freeze for a moment, in pure surprise, but then the warmth of his touch makes any hesitation melt away, and you find yourself pressed against his chest, face slightly tilted upwards to meet his gaze.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the soft blush creeping up your cheeks as his eyes soften, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, “you look really cute when you’re all wrapped up in snowman-building mode.”

Your heart flutters at the compliment, and you blink up at him, feeling your cheeks warm even more. “I—uh, I’m not that cute,” you stammer, suddenly self-conscious.

Matt just smiles, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek, wiping away a stray snowflake. “You are,” he says softly, “more than you even know.”

And before you can respond, before you can even gather your thoughts, he leans down, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss is tender and delicate; it stays on for a brief while like someone is trying to remember the moment, remember you. He concludes the kiss, and pressing both foreheads together, you both try to catch a breath. In the outside world, all is still, the soft and airy flakes of snow falling down, but at that instance, all that can be heard is the warmth of his hands on your lower body, the gentleness of his hands and the hidden love in his eyes. 

You part your lips most probably to tease him, or to let him know exactly how sweet that was, but just before you speak, he grins most unexpectedly. “Let’s have a snow fight!” he exclaims with a mischievous grin and without wasting any time, fills his palms with snow and aims it at you with a quick movement. “Matt!” you shout with laughter as the ball of snow collides with your clothed shoulder. 

You step backward struggling to keep from falling in the snow, your eyes round in playful anger. “You—!” But Matt is already retreating, laughing and putting his hands up in defeat. “Aww, you look so adorable when you’re angry!” he said looking teasingly. You can't stop yourself from laughing more, looking at him with a very derogatory look. “Im gonna get back revenge I swear to you Matthew Sturniolo!,” yelling as he runs further away while you're softly giggling, already preparing the snow for the counterattack.

But Matt, ever the playful troublemaker, is already a step ahead. He takes off running, dodging your next snowball with a laugh that fills the air like music. You chase him again and the crunching sound of the snow beneath your feet makes you run around, jesting and dodging snowballs in a blissful white mess. 

While you both carry on with the snow play, an realization strikes you: It really doesn’t matter how high the snow is around you and how many snowballs are being thrown at you, there are such moments — eager, warm and filled with Matt’s love — that are going to stay with you forever.

word count: 1k (1,099)

tags: @sweetshuga

a/n: first Matt fic and it's a fluff! Lowkey it's ass LMAO. Im gonna try to write a couple more stories before making my masterlist! Thank you soso much for all the love on my recent fic. I aprecciate and love you all!

@sagesturns

[sheerfreesia007]

Do You Want To Build A Snowman?

Pairing: Changbin x Reader

Word count: 1,239

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: With the first snow Changbin wants to build a snowman like he used you when he was a kid, but what happens when none of the other boys want to? Will you step up and help him with his snowman?

The air is cold as you watch the boys all run around the large field playing a game of tackle tag? You weren’t really sure what game they were playing but it involved a lot of tackling each other into the freshly fallen snow from last night. You felt a presence come up to your side and you turned your head to see Changbin pouting slightly as he came to stand next to you. You tilted your head at him quietly and he pouted more dramatically as he noticed your attention.

“What’s the matter, Binnie?” you ask him sweetly and he huffs softly as he watches the boys and then turns to you.

“No one wants to build a snowman with me.” he whines softly to you and you gasp loudly at him while widening your eyes. Changbin flinches at your reaction as he watches you with worried eyes.

“I’ll build a snowman with you! I love building snowmen!” you say excitedly as you grab his arm and Changbin grins widely at you letting you lead him away from the boys. “Where should we build him?” you ask as you look around the field for the perfect spot.

“What about over by the tree over there?” he asks, pointing his finger across the field and you turn and squint your eyes at the spot he’s picked and then start rushing over to the spot. You stomp your feet in a large circle tamping down the snow before grinning happily up at him as he watches you with a raised eyebrow.

“We need a good solid surface for him if we’re going to do this right.” you tell him seriously and he bursts out in happy delighted laughter at how serious you are about this. “Okay, let’s start getting the base together.” you direct him and he nods his head easily as a look of determination comes over his face. 

You help him start packing a tight snowball together before you begin to add more and more snow to it letting it grow and grow. The two of you continue working on the base until finally it’s a decent size and it’s gotten too heavy for you to comfortably hold it or pick it up. Changbin starts to roll the large base back towards the area that he had picked for the snowman and you smile at his back as you begin starting on the middle of the snowman. 

When he jogs back over to you you’ve already got a pretty medium sized snowball going for the middle and you easily hand it over to him to finish up before you turn and start working on the head of the snowman. The two of you continue working and soon you’re rolling the head back over to Changbin who’s adjusting the middle section on the base of the snowman before he turns to you with a grin on his face. 

You can’t help admiring him as his cheeks have turned rosy with the cold air and his efforts of making the snowman. His eyes are wide and sparkling with excitement as he builds the snowman and eyes it critically as if it would be critiqued and graded on its craftsmanship. You laugh softly at him and he tilts his head to the side in confusion causing you to shake your head at him while smiling softly at him. 

He bends down and easily picks up the head of the snowman and sets it sturdily on the middle section and slowly slides it around until it sits perfectly on the snowman. He takes a step back to stand beside you and you both take a moment to eye it critically before nodding satisfied with your work.

“I think he looks great.” you tell him and he grins widely at you before nodding his head. You step forward and unravel your scarf from around your neck and gently tie it around the snowman’s neck.

“Yah! You’ll get cold.” Changbin protests to you and you shake your head at him.

“I’m going to head inside once we’re done here.” you tell him to ease his worry. “I’ll make hot chocolate for everyone so that we’ll all have something to warm us up after being out here.” you tell him with a grin and he smiles at you before nodding his head. “Why don’t you find some rocks and sticks for his face and arms?” you suggest to him and he eagerly nods his head before he rushes off to find everything.

You then turn and begin to make a bunch of smaller snowballs and start to stack them together in a semi circle around the larger snowman. When Changbin comes back with an armful of sticks and rocks you’re just finishing up the last mini snowman. He comes to a stop beside you as you stand up from your crouched position and he looks around at the seven mini snowmen and bursts out into laughter as he realizes what you’ve done.

“You made Channie Snowman and his seven snowmen children.” he says delightedly as he turns to you spotting your answering grin as he laughs loudly at them all. You take the rocks from his arms and begin to place them in Channie snowman’s face, making a wide smile for the snowman leader while Changbin moves to choose the best arms for the snowman, a wide grin still on his face as he works.

With the snowman finally completed the two of you grin as Changbin snaps a few selfies of the two of you with the snowman before he snaps a few pictures of all the smaller snowmen as well. His absolute delight is infectious and you can’t help but laugh and grin at him as he excitedly takes his pictures. When he’s finally done with his pictures he comes back to your side and wraps you in a tight hug that you easily reciprocate.

“Thank you for building a snowman with me.” he says fondly into your ear and you chuckle softly at him before ducking your head into his neck squeezing him a little tighter in your arms.

“I’ll always make a snowman with you, Binnie. You just gotta ask.” you tell him happily as you lean back to look at his face your grin turns mischievously and he tilts his head at you for a second before you start to belt out. “Do you want to build a snowman!?” 

Changbin suddenly lets you go to raise his hands to his ears at how loud you were singing and you instantly start running back towards the apartments while still belting out the song. “Come on, let's go and play! I never see you any more, come out the door. It’s like you’ve gone away!”

“Yah! Get back here!” Changbin shouts from behind you and you look over your shoulder as you continue running away from him with a bright happy smile on your face.

“Never!” you shout and when you see him start running after you your eyes widen as you pick up your pace trying to evade him. But as you reach the fence of the park Changbin sweeps you up into his arms as the boys all cheer behind the two of you. Your shrieks of laughter are only silenced when Changbin carries you into the apartment to start making that hot chocolate you had mentioned earlier for everyone.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids,

@hityoulikebahng

[amethystarachnid]

Heeeeey, can you write Holiday Party Shenanigans with Loki please? 😘

MIDGARDIAN FEAST

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: It's Loki's first Christmas ever and he can't help but be confused by this Midgardian feast, but for you he will do anything, happily so if it involves annoying your older brother, Tony Stark.

ᯓ★ TW(s): fluff

ᯓ★ Since the request didn't specify anything I made up a plot with the fem!reader, also this is kind of an AU?

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Snow blankets the streets of New York, twinkling under the lights of the Avengers Tower, which glimmers like a beacon of festivity against the wintry skyline. The smell of pine, gingerbread, and peppermint wafts through the air, weaving its way into the grand common room where garlands of holly and strings of multicolored lights deck every available surface.

This is Christmas, Midgard's most beloved holiday—a time of warmth, joy, and familial gatherings. It’s also Loki’s first Christmas, a fact he reminds you of at every turn.

“Explain again,” Loki says, leaning back on the plush couch with a puzzled expression, his sharp features illuminated by the glow of the enormous tree. “You chop down a perfectly good tree, drag it indoors, then dress it in gaudy trinkets and glowing baubles for... what reason?”

“It’s festive, Loki,” you say, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you arrange a row of candy canes on the lower branches. His emerald gaze follows your every move, curiosity mingling with amusement. “It makes people happy. And it looks pretty.”

Loki arches a skeptical brow, his lips quirking in that smug way of his. “Midgardians have peculiar ideas about aesthetics.”

“Not all of us,” comes the dry remark from behind you. Tony strolls into the room, a glass of eggnog in hand, and offers Loki a pointed look. “Just some of us—especially those of us who date homicidal maniacs.”

You turn sharply, glaring at your older brother. “Tony.”

“What?” He gestures toward Loki with his free hand. “You can’t honestly expect me to pretend this is normal. The guy tried to destroy New York. Twice.”

“Once,” Loki interjects smoothly, lifting a finger. “The second time was merely a minor enchantment spell gone awry. Hardly my fault your city’s infrastructure is so delicate.”

Tony glares. “Keep telling yourself that, Rudolph.”

Loki frowns. “Rudolph?”

You sigh, stepping between them. “Can we please get through Christmas without turning it into a family feud? Tony, stop antagonizing him. Loki, stop antagonizing Tony. You’re both acting like children.”

“I am acting like a child,” Tony replies smugly. “Because it’s Christmas, and Christmas is for children. You know who it’s not for? God-tier villains with delusions of grandeur.”

“Enough,” you snap, rubbing your temples. “Tony, why don’t you go... build a gingerbread house or something?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, then saunters off, muttering something about “frosting some cookies into oblivion.” Loki watches him go, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

“I’m beginning to enjoy his petty insults,” Loki says. “They lack creativity but possess a certain... charm.”

You groan, but your frustration melts when he tilts his head to study the ornaments you’ve been hanging. “Are all these symbols significant?” he asks, gesturing toward the red-and-gold baubles.

“Well, not exactly,” you explain, stepping closer. “Some are just for decoration. Others, like the candy canes, represent traditions or stories. That one—” You point to a tiny glass snowman. “—reminds me of when I was a kid. I used to build snowmen with Tony.”

Loki leans down slightly, his gaze flicking between the ornament and your face. “You’ve always enjoyed this holiday?”

“Always,” you admit, smiling softly. “It’s about family and togetherness, and... it’s magical, in its way.”

His eyes soften. “A Midgardian concept of magic. How quaint.”

“It’s different from Asgardian magic, sure,” you say, “but it’s still special. I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Enjoying it would require understanding it, darling,” Loki replies, his voice low, intimate. “Which I still do not.”

“Well,” you say, pulling him toward the couch, “then let’s start small. We’ll watch some Christmas movies. That’ll give you the basics.”

Loki allows himself to be dragged, though he arches a skeptical brow as you hand him a blanket to drape over his lap. “Is this another ritual? Wrapping oneself in fabric to fully appreciate these... films?”

“Yes,” you reply with mock seriousness, tucking yourself beside him and grabbing the remote. “It’s an essential part of the experience.”

As you scroll through a selection of classic Christmas movies, Loki leans closer. “And your brother,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, “does he also find this... magical?”

You stifle a laugh. “Tony’s... not the biggest fan of Christmas. Or anything, really.”

“That much is evident,” Loki says with a smirk, leaning back and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I believe he’s grown rather fond of disliking me, though.”

“It’s not personal. Well, it is. But it’ll pass,” you assure him, resting your head against his chest. “He just doesn’t trust you yet. Give him time.”

Loki hums, his long fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. “I shall attempt to be... less antagonistic. For your sake.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He stiffens slightly, his pale skin flushing faintly, before his smirk returns.

“You’ll find I’m quite good at winning people over, darling,” he says confidently. “Even self-righteous metal men.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Hours later, the Avengers’ grand Christmas Eve dinner begins. The table is a dazzling display of roasted meats, savory sides, and sweets of every imaginable variety. Thor, already on his third tankard of spiced cider, slaps Loki on the back as they sit side by side.

“Brother!” Thor booms. “How fare you on this Midgardian holiday? Are you learning the ways of Yule?”

“Barely,” Loki replies dryly, reaching for a roll. “Your mortals have a puzzling number of traditions, most of which seem entirely arbitrary.”

“Arbitrary?” Steve interjects, his tone mildly offended. “Christmas traditions are rich in history and meaning.”

“Steve,” Natasha murmurs, “don’t engage.”

But Steve is already launching into an impromptu lecture about the origins of Christmas trees, which Loki listens to with the faintly bemused air of someone watching a particularly entertaining court jester. You nudge Loki under the table, shooting him a warning glance, and he quickly schools his expression into something resembling politeness.

Tony, sitting across from you, watches the interaction with thinly veiled skepticism. “So, Loki,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “what exactly are your plans here? Play nice for a few days, eat our food, then what? Back to world domination?”

Loki smirks, his gaze flicking to you. “I’m here for her,” he says simply. “The rest of you are incidental.”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes, clearly taken aback by Loki’s frankness. You sigh, reaching for your wine glass.

This is going to be a long night.

The dinner table hums with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of cutlery against china as the Avengers swap stories and rib each other in the easy way only close friends can. Loki, ever the outsider, sits beside you with an air of regal detachment, his sharp features casting faint shadows in the flickering candlelight. You’re relieved that he’s behaving himself so far—no biting remarks, no conjured illusions, no magical pranks.

Yet.

After dessert, when everyone begins to disperse into the cozy living room, Thor’s booming voice commands attention. “Now, my friends, I believe it is time for your famed Christmas festivities! Games and revelry, is it not?”

“Revelry sounds like my kind of night,” Clint mutters, popping a peppermint candy into his mouth.

Natasha smirks. “As long as it doesn’t involve karaoke. I draw the line there.”

“Games it is!” Thor declares, clapping his hands. “Loki, brother, you must partake in these Midgardian customs. Strength, wit, and cunning—you shall triumph!”

Loki leans back in his chair, lifting an eyebrow. “I was under the impression this holiday was meant to inspire camaraderie, not competition. But very well, let us proceed with your… diversions.”

Tony sidles up, his smile pure mischief. “Oh, this is going to be good. I can’t wait to see the God of Mischief fail at charades.”

You smack Tony lightly on the arm as everyone moves to gather in the living room. “Play nice.”

“This is me being nice,” Tony retorts, his grin widening.

The first game of the night is, of course, charades. Steve insists on explaining the rules for Loki’s benefit, though the process takes twice as long as it should due to Loki’s constant interruptions.

“So,” Loki drawls, lounging on the armrest of the couch as if he’s holding court, “the goal is to mime the word or phrase written on these slips of paper, and the others must guess it?”

“Exactly,” Steve says with a nod. “No talking, no sounds, no magic.”

Loki’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Ah, so we’re handicapping the cleverest participant. How democratic.”

Thor laughs heartily. “Do not fret, brother! You are quick of wit and nimble of limb. You shall excel!”

The game begins with Clint, who has everyone howling with laughter as he attempts to pantomime The Nutcracker by clumsily miming ballet moves. Then Natasha absolutely stumps the room with her eerily convincing impression of a reindeer. When it’s Loki’s turn, he strides to the center of the room with an air of unshakable confidence.

He picks a slip of paper, reads it, and smirks. “Child’s play.”

He lifts his arms dramatically, twirling in an exaggerated manner before freezing in an angular pose. You squint. Is he… trying to be a snowflake? A sugar plum fairy?

“Diva much?” Tony mutters.

Loki flicks a pointed finger toward Tony, who immediately begins sneezing uncontrollably.

“Loki!” you hiss.

“Oh, apologies,” Loki says innocently, snapping his fingers to end the spell. “Reflex.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony grumbles, blowing his nose.

By the end of the round, no one has guessed Loki’s clue (which turns out to be Christmas Star), and he takes the loss with an overly dramatic bow. “Your minds are duller than I anticipated,” he declares, earning groans and playful boos from the group.

The games continue with varying levels of success. Loki utterly dominates at trivia, much to Tony’s irritation, answering every question with an air of effortless superiority. When someone asks how he knows so much about Midgardian history, Loki waves a dismissive hand. “One must study one’s enemies.”

“Romantic,” Tony deadpans.

It’s during a spirited game of “Pin the Nose on Rudolph” that things truly go off the rails. Loki is blindfolded, spinning in circles at Natasha’s insistence. You’re about to give him a playful nudge in the right direction when he suddenly stops spinning, tilts his head, and smirks.

“Oh no,” you mutter.

With a flourish of his hand, the room fills with an illusionary blizzard. Snow swirls in glittering spirals around everyone, obscuring Loki’s location.

“Is this supposed to be happening?” Clint asks, swiping at the air.

“Loki, stop showing off!” you shout, though your voice is nearly drowned out by Thor’s booming laughter.

When the snow clears, Loki is standing triumphantly in front of the poster, the red nose perfectly placed on Rudolph. He removes the blindfold with a smug flourish, his expression daring anyone to challenge his success.

Tony glares. “That’s cheating.”

“Cheating?” Loki repeats, feigning shock. “I simply used my… resources. Is that not allowed?”

“You’re impossible,” Tony grumbles, crossing his arms.

“And you are easily bested,” Loki retorts with a wicked grin.

You tug Loki aside, fixing him with a stern look. “Behave, or no Christmas cookies for you.”

He blinks, visibly offended. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Loki huffs but refrains from further magical interventions for the rest of the night. Or so you think.

Later, as everyone gathers for a gift exchange, Thor stands at the center of the room, holding a sprig of mistletoe aloft. “Behold!” he declares. “The enchanted plant of Midgardian love!”

“Oh no,” you murmur, recognizing the gleam in Loki’s eyes.

Thor, oblivious to the mischief brewing, insists on explaining the tradition in great detail, much to the amusement of the team. “It is said that those who find themselves beneath this plant must share a kiss. A curious but delightful custom!”

Loki seizes the opportunity, conjuring a mistletoe wreath that floats directly above you and him. The others groan in mock protest as Loki pulls you closer with a dramatic flair.

“Really?” you ask, though you’re already laughing.

“It’s tradition,” he murmurs, his voice velvet-smooth. He leans down to brush his lips against yours, his hands resting lightly on your waist. The kiss is soft and warm, a brief reprieve from the chaos.

“Ugh, get a room,” Tony mutters.

Loki pulls back just enough to smirk at Tony. “Jealous, Stark?”

“I’m going to puke.”

By the end of the night, Loki is seated by the fire, a mug of mulled wine in hand. You curl up beside him, exhausted but happy. The others are scattered around the room, some dozing, some still quietly chatting. Even Tony seems more relaxed, though he still throws Loki the occasional side-eye.

“So,” you say softly, resting your head on Loki’s shoulder. “What do you think of Christmas?”

“It’s peculiar,” he admits, his voice low. “But… enjoyable. With you.”

Your heart melts a little at the sincerity in his tone. You smile, reaching for his hand. “Merry Christmas, Loki.”

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

From across the room, Tony groans dramatically. “I’m going to need so much therapy after this.”

Loki smirks but doesn’t rise to the bait. For once, you’re proud of him. He’s learning.

Sort of.

As the party begins to wind down, most of the Avengers head off to their rooms, leaving you and Loki chatting by the fire. Eventually, even you excuse yourself to get ready for bed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before retreating down the hall. Loki lingers in the now-quiet room, the warm glow of the Christmas tree casting long shadows across the walls.

Thor, who had also lingered behind, pours himself another tankard of cider and plops onto the couch with the kind of loud sigh that only Thor can produce.

“Ah, brother,” Thor says, his cheeks rosy from drink, “was tonight not delightful? Such joy, such merriment! Midgardians may be odd, but their Yuletide traditions are quite charming.”

Loki raises an eyebrow at Thor’s obvious enthusiasm. “If by ‘charming’ you mean overly sentimental, then yes, I suppose.”

Thor chuckles, unbothered by Loki’s disdain. He gestures toward the Christmas tree, where brightly wrapped packages sit neatly in a pile beneath the branches. “And tomorrow, we shall partake in the exchanging of gifts! Another peculiar yet endearing custom.”

Loki turns his head sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Gifts?”

“Yes!” Thor booms, oblivious to Loki’s alarm. “The mortals exchange tokens of affection to celebrate the season. It’s a tradition to give something meaningful—though I must admit, I find the concept of wrapping them in paper rather odd. Why hide such treasures?”

Loki stares at the colorful packages as if they’ve suddenly materialized out of thin air. “Those… those are the gifts?”

“Indeed,” Thor replies, taking a hearty sip of cider. “Did you not notice? Everyone brings something to give to their companions. I myself have crafted the most splendid carving for Lady Natasha—an intricate likeness of a hawk! She will be most pleased.”

Panic flashes across Loki’s face, though he quickly schools his features into his usual mask of indifference. “I see,” he says carefully. “And… is this gift-giving obligatory?”

Thor laughs again. “It is not a matter of obligation, brother. It is a gesture of love and gratitude. Surely you have prepared something for Lady Y/N?”

Loki’s stomach twists. The thought had not even occurred to him. Gifts, he realizes with mounting horror, are a cornerstone of this holiday, and he has nothing for you. Worse, you likely have something for him.

He rises abruptly from his seat, his long coat swishing behind him. “Excuse me.”

Thor blinks. “Where are you going?”

“To rectify an oversight,” Loki says curtly, striding from the room.

Thor calls after him, “But the hour grows late, brother! You must—”

The door slams shut before Thor can finish.

Loki paces in his chambers, his mind racing. He cannot simply conjure a gift out of thin air—not for you. You are not just anyone. You are his everything, the rare soul who saw past his facade and dared to love him. A trinket or bauble would not suffice. It must be something extraordinary. Something meaningful.

But what?

His gaze falls on a small chest on the corner of his desk, one of the few items he had brought with him from Asgard. Slowly, he approaches it, his fingers brushing over the intricate carvings on its surface. Inside are fragments of his past—pieces of his life before everything unraveled. Among them, an idea begins to form.

The next morning, the common room buzzes with excitement as the team gathers for the gift exchange. You sit cross-legged by the tree, a mug of hot cocoa warming your hands, your cheeks flushed from the heat of the fire. Loki enters the room with his usual composed demeanor, though you notice the faintest hint of nervousness in his eyes.

You don’t mention it, though. Loki and nerves are rarely seen in the same room, and you don’t want to spoil whatever is brewing in that brilliant mind of his.

Steve starts handing out gifts, his boyish enthusiasm contagious. Wrapping paper flies, laughter fills the air, and even Tony’s snark is muted by the holiday spirit. You’re halfway through unwrapping a set of beautifully crafted leather gloves from Natasha when Loki approaches you.

“Darling,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You look up, surprised to see him holding a small, neatly wrapped package in his hands. The paper shimmers faintly, as if enchanted, and you can’t help but smile.

“For me?” you ask, your voice soft.

Loki nods, his expression unreadable. “It seems I have been… educated in the ways of Midgardian tradition. I hope you find it acceptable.”

You take the package from him, your heart fluttering at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “I didn’t think you’d— I mean, I wasn’t expecting—”

“I noticed,” he interrupts, his lips quirking into a small smirk. “But you deserve to be surprised.”

You chuckle, your fingers carefully peeling away the wrapping. Inside, nestled in a bed of dark velvet, is a delicate necklace. The pendant is a swirling, shimmering stone that seems to contain an entire galaxy within its depths.

Your breath catches. “Loki… it’s beautiful.”

“It is more than that,” he murmurs, crouching beside you. “It is a fragment of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. I carried it with me for centuries, a piece of home that I thought I would always keep. But now… my home is wherever you are.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I love it,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I love you.”

He holds you close, his hands resting gently on your back. “And I, you.”

When you pull back, you wipe at your eyes and reach for the small box you had tucked under the tree. “It’s not as grand as Yggdrasil, but… I got you something too.”

Loki accepts the box with an arched eyebrow, clearly intrigued. He removes the wrapping with the same precision he applies to everything, revealing a leather-bound journal embossed with intricate silver designs.

“I know you like to write,” you explain, suddenly feeling shy. “And I thought… maybe this could be a place for your thoughts. Or your plans. Or your poetry. Whatever you want.”

Loki runs his fingers over the cover, his expression softening in a way you rarely see. “It is perfect,” he says simply. “Thank you.”

He surprises you then, pulling you in for another kiss, this one deeper and filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. Around you, the room erupts into exaggerated groans and cheers.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Tony calls out. “Break it up. Some of us are trying to digest.”

Loki pulls back, smirking at Tony. “Jealousy does not suit you, Stark.”

“Neither does PDA,” Tony shoots back.

You laugh, leaning your head against Loki’s shoulder as the festivities continue. The day stretches into afternoon, filled with warmth, laughter, and the joy of being surrounded by those you love. And though Loki may have started the night unsure of Midgardian traditions, he ends it with a newfound appreciation for the magic of Christmas—and for the gift that is your love.

The days following Christmas are filled with a contented warmth that lingers in the air like the scent of pine and mulled cider. Snow blankets the Stark compound, and the Avengers have settled into a rare, peaceful lull. For you and Loki, it’s an idyllic time. For Tony, it’s borderline intolerable.

It starts innocently enough: a lingering kiss as Loki helps you into your coat before a walk in the snow. A cozy moment by the fire with your head on his shoulder and his hand tracing idle patterns on your back. But soon, your affection for each other becomes less subtle. Or, as Tony puts it, “a full-blown rom-com in my living room.”

One evening, as the Avengers gather for a movie night, the popcorn bowl makes its way around the room. You and Loki are curled up on the oversized armchair, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. Every so often, he leans down to murmur something in your ear, his voice low and teasing, his lips grazing the shell of your ear just enough to make you giggle.

Tony, sprawled on the couch with a soda in hand, finally has enough.

“Do you two mind?” he says, gesturing wildly with his drink. “Some of us are trying to watch the movie, not a live audition for The Notebook 2.”

Loki doesn’t even bother to glance in Tony’s direction. “You are free to avert your eyes, Stark.”

“Or your entire face,” you chime in, grinning.

The team laughs, though Tony’s scowl deepens. He jabs a finger at Loki. “Just so we’re clear, Lothario, I’ve got my eye on you.”

Loki finally turns, his expression one of exaggerated innocence. “Whatever for? I’m merely basking in the radiant company of your enchanting sister.”

Tony groans, burying his face in his hands. “Unbelievable. I’ve saved the world too many times for this.”

Natasha chuckles from her seat. “You should be used to public displays of affection by now, Tony. Didn’t you once make out with Pepper in the middle of a board meeting?”

“That was strategic,” Tony insists. “This is just… gratuitous.”

“Call it what you like,” Loki says smoothly, his fingers brushing along your arm. “I call it love.”

Thor claps a hand on Tony’s shoulder, nearly knocking him sideways. “Do not fret, Stark! Loki’s heart is true, and your sister has tamed even his sharpest edges. It is a union worth celebrating!”

Tony mutters something about regretting every decision that led to this moment.

Later that week, you and Loki are in the kitchen, attempting to bake cookies—a task that quickly devolves into a flour-filled mess. You’re laughing so hard at Loki’s utter confusion over measuring cups that you don’t notice Tony standing in the doorway until he clears his throat.

You turn, still grinning. “Hey, Tony. Want to join the fun?”

He eyes the chaos with a raised brow. “Fun is one word for it. Looks like a bakery exploded in here.”

Loki smirks, dusting flour off his hands. “Your sister has decided to teach me the fine art of Midgardian baking. It is… entertaining.”

“It’s also delicious,” you add, sneaking a bite of cookie dough.

Tony steps inside, crossing his arms. “Listen, Y/N, can I have a word? Alone.”

Loki raises an eyebrow but doesn’t protest as Tony steers you into the adjoining room. Once you’re out of earshot, Tony sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair.

“Look, kid,” he starts, “I know you’re happy, and that’s great. Really. But Loki? Are we sure about this?”

You fold your arms, leveling him with a pointed look. “Tony, we’ve been over this. I love him. He loves me. End of story.”

“Yeah, but love doesn’t erase the whole ‘tried to conquer the planet’ thing. Or the ‘stabbed Coulson’ thing. Or the—”

You cut him off. “He’s changed. You know that. And if you don’t, then maybe you haven’t been paying attention.”

Tony sighs again, clearly conflicted. “I just… I worry about you, okay? You’re my little sister. I want you to have the best, and Loki… well, he’s a wildcard.”

“Wildcards make life interesting,” you say, softening your tone. “And Loki makes me happy, Tony. Happier than I’ve ever been.”

Tony groans, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But if he screws up—if he so much as looks at you wrong—I’m sending him back to Asgard in pieces. Deal?”

“Deal,” you say with a grin. “But you’ll see—he’s the real deal.”

As if on cue, Loki appears in the doorway, holding a tray of somewhat misshapen cookies. “Am I interrupting?”

“Always,” Tony mutters.

You roll your eyes and take one of the cookies, pulling Loki into a quick kiss. “Perfect timing, actually.”

Tony makes a gagging noise and waves you off. “Great. Fantastic. I’ll just be in my workshop, away from… whatever this is.”

Loki watches him go with a smirk. “He’s quite protective of you.”

“He is,” you say, leaning into him. “But he’ll come around.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

You grin, popping the rest of the cookie into your mouth. “Then he’ll just have to deal with it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Over the following days, Tony’s annoyance continues to simmer, especially as you and Loki grow even more comfortable with your affection. The stolen kisses in the hallway, the way Loki tucks your hair behind your ear, the private jokes that make you both laugh uncontrollably—all of it grates on Tony’s nerves. But eventually, even he has to admit that Loki’s devotion to you is genuine.

One evening, as you and Loki sit together by the fire, Tony passes by, shaking his head. “You know,” he says, pausing in the doorway, “for an ancient god of mischief, you’re a lot sappier than I expected.”

Loki smirks, his arm tightening around your shoulders. “And yet, your sister seems to find it endearing.”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.”

As he walks away, you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Progress, you think. Slow, grudging progress. But progress nonetheless.

I don't really know why I keep writing Thor and Loki talking like that, I guess I just can't get past this lol

[topherwrites]

SNOWFLAKES IN MY STOMACH WHEN WE'RE KISSING

summary - spending the holidays with jake's family isn't always smooth sailing, but little else matters when you're grossly in love. (also - jake dresses up as santa for his nieces and nephews, you're real into it.) pairing - jake seresin x (fem!)reader word count - 2.7k rating - nsfw content, 18+, mdni! content warnings & tags - no use of (y/n) / mostly fluff / jake being super in love / jake's family celebrates christmas / very brief angst / me being incapable of giving jake a good childhood / brief mention of childhood abuse / swearing / alcohol consumption / dash of smut / fingering / lmk if i missed anything! a/n: a little belated christmas one shot for you all. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated! TOP GUN MASTERLIST / LIBRARY BLOG

Heat audibly blasts through the vents, the entire house sweltering. A solid summer day indoors. His mother won’t even let anyone touch the thermostat. In her defense, she grew up without a lick of snow on the ground and now it’s fifteen degrees in December, a real white Christmas.

Which isn’t exactly ideal for Jake considering he’s been roped into wearing a Santa suit for his young nieces and nephews. The suit is all red polyester—the least breathable material known to man—and thick faux fur cuffs. It’s causing him to start perspiring where sweat simply shouldn't be, his white undershirt clinging to his back and his crack.

“It’s too goddamn hot in this thing.”

Unbuttoning the jacket, he airs it out, the relief near immediate. 

Over his shoulder, he catches sight of you lounging on the guest bed—the one his mother oddly insisted that you could share��odd because that’s been a hard and fast rule for all the non-married seresin kids since his older sister began dating.

When she’d pointed him to the room, he’d paused, waiting for her to tell him which room would be yours, separately. Exactly like the sole previous time a girlfriend had stayed the night, way back in college, he figured you’d be placed in the room past his parents so no premarital shenanigans would occur. When that moment didn’t come, he’d stood there stupefied till you bumped his hip, nodding in the direction of the room.

Then he found out that with his brother and sister, their spouses and kids, and a few stray cousins and aunts staying, every other room was already occupied tenfold when he showed up with you in tow. 

He wasn’t sure if he would actually come down until a few days before, on the fence about spending so much time packed together with his family. But you’d volunteered to go along with him, meeting everyone besides his mother for the first time. Offering yourself up as a buffer.

It gives him pause less and less, just how much you care about him. Warmth spreads through him at the memory.

He was thankful that you had a bunch of airline credit banked, otherwise booking so late during the peak holiday season flights would’ve cost an arm and a leg.

Your feet kick back and forth as your eyes drag up his back, not put off in the slightest by his melting-like-frosty-the-snowman state, meeting his gaze with a heat you don’t attempt to hide. His irritation at the outfit dispels at your attention, melting away into something far sweeter.

“Is this doing it for you?”

“Oh,” your voice strained, “yeah, absolutely.”

And while there’s a bit of humor to the whole situation, what with the whole ‘being dressed as Old Saint Nick’ thing, your attraction to him isn’t a joke in the slightest. Sweaty, sunburned, exhausted. You seem to take a liking to any form Jake comes in. 

You continue, twirling your finger in a slow, instructive circle, humor alighting in your eyes, “Do a little twirl for me, baby.”

He laughs but gives in to your borderline indecent direction, turning steadily on his heel. He does a slow three-sixty, letting the jacket fall to his waist so your eyes can freely roam. Turning back to you, he takes you in the sight of you before he closes the gap, crawling over you to give you a kiss.

Things are so simple with you, you never make him work for your affection, it’s always present, even in your teasing. He doesn’t feel that pang of being inadequate that his father instilled in him when he was young—the pang that he let drive him for far too long into his adulthood. He can breathe right around you, loosen his tongue, soften his words. He can be a good man, not just a good pilot.

He loves you. You love him. Everything is right in the world.

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The kids love the whole theatrics of him dressing up like Santa, faux beard, and all. He answers their inquiries into whether or not he’s their uncle Jake with a falsely grandiose tone, handing them their presents—you’re not sure if they fully buy into it, but they all seem to be having fun.

Sipping on a mug of coffee, warm in your palms, you watch him from afar as he juggles holding two of his nieces, one dangling off of his arm like it's a monkey bar and the other calmly being held on his hip.

Ainsley and Avery—without judgment, you wonder what the reasoning is to name all your kids with the same first letter, like Pokemon evolutions.

“He’s always been good with them. Kids.”

Ah, the dreaded (potential) future mother-in-law ambushing you about kids part of the day. You had that penciled in for sometime around… now, generally. You look over at her. She looks back at you with a familiar glint in her eye. God, Jake looks just like her, same straight nose and dimpled smile and hooded eyes.

Mae doesn’t mean any ill will. You’re aware. But it all still settles ominously on your shoulders. The breadth of the unknown, what the future could hold, kids or not—whether or not you and Jake will even get that far, you hope so.

You nod slowly, calmly noting, “That’s not surprising.”

You see the way he is with them, how much they adore him. It’s a nice picture. But you're both still undecided on whether that’s one that you want of your own.

She seems to detect that you’re not going to humor her about the subject, dropping it. She looks at your empty mug, “Do you want a refill?”

────────────────────────

You casually gesture to the sprig taped to the doorjamb above you, “Is that what you were up to earlier?”

You note the little red berries, the toothed leaves, and the bush-like appearance.

“Maybe.” With a self-satisfied smile, he shrugs. His large palms grip at your waist, gently pushing you against the doorway.

You scratch at your cheek. “You know that’s not mistletoe, right?”

Holly. It's a frequent mistake, mostly from movies that wanted something to hang with a little more visual pop than actual mistletoe. He sighs, head falling back as he glares up at the traitorous plant. You’d never pass up the chance to poke a little fun at him, but now you want to bring the smile back to his face.

You poke at his side, bringing those pretty green eyes back to you, “But I suppose I can spare a kiss regardless.”

A smile creeps onto his face, warmth clear in his gaze. He leans his weight into you, not enough to crush but enough to let you feel all of him. Tilting his head, his voice drops as he questions, “Oh, will you make an exception? Bend the rules? For little ‘ol me?”

Breathing the same air, his nose nearly brushes yours. Everything but him, every sound and sight is extraneous—it all just turns to static.

You hum in agreement, “For you.” You brush the pads of your fingers along his cheekbone,  intentionally gentle, enjoying the way his lashes flutter at the gesture. “Now give me a kiss.”

Like the ever-dutiful soldier he is, he dips his head in assent, “Yes, ma’am.”

He takes the green light, gently molding his mouth to yours.

────────────────────────

His sixteen-year-old nephew, Sam, heckles him across the dinner table, quietly calling him a “fucking simp” as he hands you a refill of eggnog with a quick peck—that becomes two or three at his insistence, his lips chasing yours. His tone isn’t cruel, just an attempt at embarrassing his uncle.

He gets a smack upside the head from his dad—Jake’s older brother, Matt—for the language at the table, quick and sharp. Recycled material from their own childhoods. He tries to suppress the instinctual flinch, annoyance burning in his chest at how years later his heart is still sent racing. Jake wonders if he too, will become like their father. If it’s unavoidable. Something built into him. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree with his brother.

He knows that he has the capacity for cruelty in him and though it doesn't come as quickly these days, he still has to make an active effort to not be a dick sometimes, especially with Bradshaw.

And then, a hand, warm and stabilizing, slides across his thigh, squeezing tenderly. His eyes bounce around the table, everyone pointedly looking at their plates, just like when they were young and his father thought that one of them needed corporal punishment for acting like a kid. 

Except for you, whose eyes are focused on Jake with so much understanding that he can’t help but knock his boot into his brothers.

“Don't do that shit.”

A tense moment follows. The clatter of forks stop, drinks pause at lips, and everyone’s eyes plant on him, perplexed that it’s been acknowledged in the slightest. Matt levels a stare back at him, and he wonders if he’s going to hear their dad’s signature line come out of his brother’s mouth—don’t tell me how to discipline my kids—leveled at anyone who ever expressed concern for the way their father treated them, teachers, other parents, their own mom.

His brother is the one to blink first, dropping his eyes down to his plate as he stabs at a piece of asparagus. The festivities resume around them. Quieter. 

It’s not a real acknowledgment. But he’s drawn a line in the sand.

Sam continues looking at him for a few more moments. He wonders if his nephew knows just how similar their childhoods were, why his father is the way that he is. Not that it would make it better, but it might help him to know that it’s not him, some fault of his own. 

Jake always thought that it was him. He knows a little better now.

────────────────────────

After all the kids have been bundled up in beds and the adults break out the liquor, it doesn't take long for Jake to crash. Sprawled on the couch next to you, his arm draped around your shoulder becomes less of a pleasant weight and more of a log hanging around your neck. 

You tap his stomach, softer and less-toned after the holidays—at your insistence that he actually eats some sugar for once and doesn’t, under any circumstances, wake you up at five am during your vacation so he can go for a run. You’re glad that he’s taken the threat seriously, that he’s taking it easy and actually relaxing while you’re here. He grumbles at your touch but barely stirs, about eighty percent tired, twenty-percent drunk.

“Christ, when did he become such a lightweight?” His brother directs his jibe disguised as a question to you.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, standing up. You pat his thigh, holding your hands out. “Up and at ‘em, lieutenant.”

His eyes peel open at the use of his rank. Blinking awake, he flops his hands into yours, not taking a strong grip. You're thankful for the fact that he barely relies on you to help himself stand, swaying minorly as he does so. You’re not particularly eager to see what’d happen if you had to haul all two hundred pounds of Jake upright on your own.

You both trod up the stairs. His hand caressing the silver tinsel wrapped around the banister as you go, the Christmas lights hung from it setting the staircase in a warm glow. With your arm looped around his waist and his looped around yours, you make slow progress towards the room at the end of the hall.

He toes off his boots as you shut the door to the bedroom, flopping backward onto the bed. Eyes fluttering sleepily, a hint of a smile on his face, he sighs out a breath. Voicing his inner thoughts aloud, his voice is gentle, “I'm so happy.”

The statement settles sweetly in the air.

Taking hold of your hand, he pulls you on top of him. His eyes heavy, he isn’t particularly conscientious about where you’re going to land, so you have to catch yourself before you knee him in the dick. Straddling him, you find your place in his lap. Affection, as it always does, blooms in your chest at the sight of him.

“Are you as happy as I am?” His question is gently curious, none of his old insecurity laced through.

You slowly nod, hands smoothing over his chest as you lean over him. “Yeah, I really am.”

Under your palms, you can feel him huff a pleased sigh.

Large hands land on your thighs, smoothing up and down the bare skin under the hem of your skirt. His eyes roam over your figure, from your legs, your waist, your chest, finally landing on your face, “You look so pretty. Have I told you that?”

Suppressing your smile, you squint as you tilt your head, imitating deep thought. You hum, “Mm, about twenty times today.”

“I think you could stand to hear it one more time.” He sits up on his elbows with surprising swiftness, his nose brushing along your cheek before his lips settle next to your ear, “You are so pretty.”

He pulls back just enough to kiss you, lips gliding softly over yours. He tastes like rum and vanilla. Under you, you feel him grow half hard. It’s one of the things that you never really expected from him, just how needy of a drunk he is.

He slips his tongue into your mouth, large palms squeezing at your hips as he guides you to rock over him. His breaths mingle with your own as he pulls back, panting, “You wet for me?”

Rucking up your skirt past your hips, his hand slips into your underwear and he swipes two fingers through the wetness collected there before you can—for the sake of his sleep schedule—gently turn him down. You fold over him, smothering your moan into his shoulder as he pushes in, his palm immediately harshly grinding against your clit. With your own buzz sliding through your body, you melt into the pleasure, task entirely forgotten. 

Burning heat spreads through your core, your cunt clamping down around his fingers. It’s so good—it’s always this way, like he’s read the manual on your body.  Slick sounds echo in the otherwise quiet room; your gut twists, high building.

Just as you're about to fall over the edge his movements slow, and the peak he was working you to begins to dissipate. But you're left on the edge as his brain seems to intermittently connect to its previous task, working over your pulsing clit. Your hips kick into his palm, the not quite enough stimulation tortuous. You try to roll off of him, but the arm around your back stays put. He grumbles for a moment. You nearly yelp at a shift of his palm shoots electricity up your spine.

You shake his shoulder, “Jake, Jake.”

“Mm,” he hums, “no, no.” He blinks himself only half-awake, eyes still drooping, “Second wind.”

You reach behind your back, sliding his arm from around you, pressing it to his chest. You draw his hand out from under you, the drag of his fingers sending waves of heat through you. Pressing a kiss under his jaw, you whisper, “Go to sleep.”

Eyes still closed he slides the fingers that were just inside you past his lips, casually cleaning your arousal off them. You have to pretend like that doesn't make your cunt pulse with need. He rolls onto his side, then mumbles into the pillow, “Fine, but I’m going to rock your world in the morning.”

You pat his stomach, placating him—sure that in the morning he’ll remember that he’s surrounded by his parents, siblings, and their offspring, that the walls are a little too thin for what he wants to do to you.

You collapse on the bed beside him, already nodding off.

You're proven wrong in the morning. He sends you over the edge twice with his head trapped between your thighs and his palm sealed over your mouth. And at breakfast, you have to play off the flush he carries as the AC putting out too much heat, smiles barely suppressed.

e/n: thank you for reading!

tagging those who liked the teaser: @mamachasesmayhem @pricelessemotion @sorchathered @dizzybee03 @always-and-forever-at @ofstoriesandstardust @sunlightmurdock @withahappyrefrain @aworldwideapart @shamelessghostwagonwobbler

[fullofgutsndopamine]

Happy Holidays (Let’s Hope For The Best)

or: You always hated the holidays. Schlatt tries to change your mind

originally posted on a different blog of mine. i’m well aware it’s september.

i hope you enjoy! I've never written for Schlatt before, so I hope it's okay and i got his voice right

tw/cursing, angst if you squint, ‘jay’ for schlatt

schlatt knew your hatred towards the holidays.

long winded rants when you were less than sober, talking with your hands about how this holiday had become more on gifts than the actual spirit of christmas, the idea to stay in and be with your loved ones on a holiday-

and in his defense, for a long time, he listened.

eyes slanted as he slowly shook his head as you ranted, an occasional, “yeah, no. right-“ so you know he’s listening.

it started small, he didn’t force it.

“Jay,” The sigh is evident in your voice, “what the fuck is this?”

you hold the tiny culprit in your hand, a miniature snowman, made of ceramic and chipped with age, no larger than your palm.

"What do you-" He sets his phone down, eyebrows one, genuinely confused for a second before the smallest smile you've ever seen pulls gently at the tips, threatening to actually smile-

"Jay." You say gently, simply.

He gives himself away.

"I dunno who would do that," He shrugs, eyebrows knit as he stares at his phone again, "Especially knowing they live with the actual Grinch."

"Do you?" You tease, hope he doesn't see as you pocket the snowman, bury him deep into your jean pockets, a new lucky charm for you. Some of the ice melts away, slowly, a little crack falls off, but you wouldn't let him know that.

"Yeah," He snorts, pads over to the couch where you sit, wiggles his toes to be buried under your thighs, "Tried to fuckin' evict 'em, but it was too much work."

Days pass, and you almost forget about it.

Every time you slip into the jeans for work, you remember the small snowman buried deep into your pocket, rub it like its some sort of worry doll.

The snowman was the first, but not the last.

Second, it was the creepy santa soap dispenser shoved in the corner by your sink in the bathroom. Schlatt left the rest of the bathroom untouched, and when you squeeze it into your hand, your immediately hit with the smell of marshmallows.

“who the fuck is putting christmas shit out?” he says again, bites his lip to hide the smile, “Especially in the grinch’s lair.”

“yeah,” you tease back, “and i used it and it smelled like fuckin’ marshmallows.”

“marshmallows?!” he buffs, “that’s it, i’m writing the landlord.”

and he kisses the crown of your head and pads downstairs.

from then on, he gets bolder.

You come home and he’s gently wrapping christmas lights around the bush in the front yard, sees you coming and speaks first: “to keep the fuckin’ kids away.” with a wink, as if he has something figured out.

he has a stupid santa hat on top of a baseball cap, teetering, threatens to fall off any second, and his face is pink from the cold, his fingertips are ice and it’s obvious, from how lit up the house looks, that he’s spent a lot of time planning and putting this together.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” you tease back, grabbing him by his coat and pulling him in for a kiss.

“what?!” he yells back, “that’s not how it fuckin’ works?! shit!” he teases back, the smile gives him away.

when you pull away, he takes the santa hat off his own head, shoves it over yours, and turns away, back to the bushes with a smile on his face.

You make your way inside, towards the kitchen to make him some hot chocolate to enjoy as the temperature falls more, and the sun slowly sets, and act as if you don’t see the mistletoe in the threshold of all the rooms, or the lights hanging around, even the little christmas village knick knacks that hang onto every surface-a post office shoved into the corner of the kitchen, and Santa’s Workshop sits in the front room-

days pass again, and you finally give in.

“Look,” you lean against the door as Schlatt comes in, a mixing bowl against his hip and a kiss the cook apron around his waist. “promise me you won’t make this a big deal.”

“okay,” he licks his lips, nods, “that’s ominous as fuck.”

“Just-sit on the couch, close your eyes, and promise to not make a big deal about it.” you grab him by the hand and gently lead him to the couch, have him sit on the edge of it and lift his hand so it rests over his eyes.

Schlatt bites his lip to keep from smiling as he hears something being dragged against the floor of the living room, before you speak again, obviously out of breath from the mini work out.

“Okay, don’t read into this,” you say one last time, “Open your eyes.”

he obeys, slowly blinks them open and sees the cardboard half busted tree box, and lets out a loud laugh: “Guess the grinches heart did grow two sizes larger, hm?”

he stands, pulls you close and kisses you on the lips, his voice drops, which is rare, his voice comes back gentle, which is also rare, means he means what he’s about to say, listen up: “I’m glad you changed your mind. Was worried id gone to far.”

you snort, “You? too far? never.” and your voice drops as well, “besides, had to give in eventually. make new traditions with you, or something right?”

you’re obviously referencing to the first few weeks of December, when he all but begged for at least a free, a string of lights-something, anything-is use to these lavish holiday traditions-only to be met by your stubbornness, the sting and ache of lonely holidays, another regular day too much for you-

“we can make new traditions,” he insisted one night, curled into you in the too small bed, the only light coming from the street light outside that flares into your eyes if you move your head the wrong way, “it doesn’t have to all be bad. let me help-“

“leave it, Jay,” you huff, shake your shoulders so his chin falls off form your shoulder as you flip to face the wall, sick of this discussion.

“that’s right-“ he smiles, surprised you were listening, “that’s exactly right, yeah.”

And he helps you drag the box into the corner, sets up his phone to play all his favorite christmas music, tells these stories of songs he loved growing up, doing certain activities to certain songs-

The music plays and though it doesn’t cal for it, Schlatt stops you every once in awhile, spins you around on your heels and dips you to a song, only for you to stand back up straight and slowly hang up the small collection of ornaments he stock piled away.

The night ends with cookies in the kitchen, the pre made kind that he bought the day after halloween and you kept shoving further and further back to try and forget of their existence, little cherry santa’s with crooked hats and little snowman placed on a tray as you two wait for them to be done, suddenly little kids again, the excitement of waiting up all night to try and find santa hangs in the air-

schlatt plates the cookies, makes hot chocolate and pads to the front room, throws a blanket over the two of you as you clink cookies together as a gentle cheers, settling on whatever movie hallmark is playing, even if it’s half way done.

schlatt is quiet next to you, plays with your hair as you rest your head on his chest, enjoying the sight of your new tree before you crane your neck to look up at him-

“i think i like our tradition now.”

he smiles, runs the pads of his thumb over your face gently, “Yeah? You a christmas fan yet?”

and you want to say the truth, how it’s hard not to be when your in his presence, how it’s hard to not smile and want to embrace every cliche, but instead you snort: “let’s not get carried away.”

he rolls his eyes, “of course not,” but his voice drops as he drops his head, rests his lips against your forehead as he speaks: “Im glad you’re enjoying it though, you deserve some good holiday memories instead.”

and he kisses your forehead as he settles back in, pulls the blanket togetber over you, and hangs you the obnoxious santa mug he had stored in the cabinet for you for when you finally came around

[freckledjoes]

(In)sanity

Steddie Christmas fic! Summary: Eddie returns to Hawkins for the holidays and stumbles upon a very detailed snowman that resembles someone familiar... Warnings: Don't read this if you hate Christmas. And cute shit. Author's note: Be gentle <3 I don't really post things I write. I'm sure it's flawed in more ways than one. I focused on the cuteness, not the UD plot, so if that's vague, it's because of that. This came to fruition because of this post. Word count: 7299

Alright, fine. The rumor’s out: Eddie Munson had returned to Hawkins for the holidays. To his credit though, he had in fact gotten ‘the hell out of there’ once Higgins had finally been forced to hand him his diploma. It was just that, when he arrived in New York, things had been… difficult. You don’t just up and leave and suddenly make it with your band, apparently. Especially not when said band actually decided to do weird shit like going to college. But… It was fine. He did have a good time, found some people that did in fact enjoy his presence (some mostly preferred him inside their beds, which was new) and he enjoyed skipping from roommate to roommate duty all around town.

And yet… here he was. Eddie claimed he had gone back for the holidays. To see Wayne, the Hellfire kids, and yeah. Part of that was true. The other part was just that he couldn’t find his footing in New York, not by himself. As fun as it had been to discover the New York version of Eddie Munson, it hadn’t really been… him. No one really bothered to get to know the real him and in all honesty, he had been enthusiastically hiding him anyway. He had pretended to enjoy mainstream music (It was fine, just not really his jam to dance to until 5AM - which he had. Several times too many. Shudder), drank fancy coffees that he couldn’t really afford and hadn’t mentioned Dungeons & Dragons ONCE after he received a funny look from his second roommate.

Which is why it felt like a breath of fresh air to be back in Hawkins. Where people thought he worshipped Satan, attended virgin sacrifice ceremonies and was an obnoxious good for nothing waste of space. 

It was familiar.

And honestly? He wasn’t even sure who he was anymore sometimes. Getting rid of the super senior title kind of forced him to go do something with his life.

But what?

His trusted van greeted him in the parking lot he had left her at and he was surprised it hadn’t been towed yet, in all honesty. At first Eddie hadn’t been sure it was his van considering she had almost become one with the parking lot due to all the snowfall. To no one’s surprise though, when Eddie had wiped off most of the snow and turned the key, she didn’t have more in her than a splutter of her engine before she went back into hibernation. 

And so, Eddie walked. He knew Wayne wouldn’t be home yet, so he decided to take a detour. The quiet streets carried as much of a negative familiarity as a positive one. He’d been out on those streets for many reasons, taking long walks either high or sober, contemplating pretty much everything about his life long enough for the sun to come up.

Tonight though, he had different things to think about. Or maybe not that different. He had to decide whether he was going to go back to New York (probably not) or if he was going to stay in Hawkins (probably not) and if neither of those, then what? Nothing kept him in either place anymore. Wayne was doing just fine without him and although he missed him, he also wanted to give him some well deserved time for himself. 

Well, him and Claudia Henderson, apparently.

Wayne acted quite funny about it. Claimed the woman didn’t take no for an answer and kept bringing food over, kept inviting him for dinner, and at some point, he had grabbed her hand and kissed her cheek and that was that. For a man who wanted to pretend that he wasn’t smitten with her, he surely needed to work on keeping his smile out of his voice during their phone calls.

Eddie was genuinely happy for him, though he had deliberately avoided thinking about what it might mean for him and Dustin. The idea of a smartass little step-brother wasn’t exactly appealing—not that it would be all that different from how Dustin acted already.

That being said… he hadn’t heard from him at all lately. Or any of the other kids, for that matter. It wasn’t exactly surprising, considering they had their own friend group going on and didn’t need Eddie to entertain them, but a small part of him had hoped that maybe, they at least missed him as their DM.

He fiddled with his lighter and tucked his hair behind his ear before lighting his cigarette (he had learned to keep his hair out of the way after burning some of it… four times). He had barely realized he had wandered into the forest until his elbow hit a tree and he apologized.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, looking back at the tree as if it was going to respond. He was about to face forward again when realization kicked in that it wasn’t a tree he had just walked into. Instead it was some kind of snow sculpture, or an ice sculpture? It surely was really fucking sturdy if it survived that elbow clash.

He walked a few steps backwards to properly observe the statue and noted that it was quite an odd placement, here, in the middle of the woods. Honestly, where did someone even get that much snow? The trees did a good job at shielding most of the ground and it didn’t look like any snow had been scraped whatsoever either. Weird. Eddie looked at the statue, which was surprisingly about his own height and he wondered how he had missed it. Ironically, the snowman was quite a looker. Flowy hair (how did they even manage that?), a strong jawline, muscular but not too muscular. Hmm. He took a step closer to inspect the statue some more and scoffed when he realized something.

The statue looked… familiar.

It reminded him of someone he wanted to forget all about, actually. The amount of time this very person spent at the forefront, sides and back of his mind was actually embarrassing. He didn’t even like the guy. He was just—

“You remind me of someone,” Eddie declared out loud, nodding along to his own statement. “Yeah, some asshole jock I used to go to school with. Didn’t really have personal beef with him, but his friends were fucking awful and well, by association… so is he. Plus, being popular and a jock basically means you’re a dickhead anyway. It’s written in the fucking stars, just like I’m a good for nothing lo—anyway,” Eddie cleared his throat and finally took a first drag of his cigarette.

“I guess someone must really like this guy though, if they make a snow statue of him in the middle of the woods like it’s their dirty little secret. Shame, actually. Bet he’d love the ego boost. Last time I checked his casanova days seemed to be practically over. Not that I care. It’s just obvious when a loud, obnoxious guy like that suddenly isn’t.”

Eddie knew he was talking out of his ass at the ‘loud and obnoxious’ part. If anything, he was talking about his past self there. However, he wasn’t totally wrong about the change of Harrington’s lady magnet wearing off causing some suspicion.

“Anyway… dunno why I’m even talking to you. I’m bored, I guess. My car broke down, had to walk all the fucking way so I figured I’d give myself a nostalgic route through the forest and there you were! Doubt you get a lot of visitors, huh? What am I even saying, maybe you’re like, a day old. Who knows when the fuck they made you, huh?”

He gazed up at the statue again as if expecting a response, but of course none came. Three cigarettes and some nonsensical rambling later, he finally bid the snow statue goodnight and walked home.

Home.

Wayne would always be his home, he figured, whether he still lived there or not. A part of him wasn’t entirely looking forward to seeing Wayne again. He had missed him terribly, but he wasn’t ready for the conversation to lead to New York and what he had been doing over there. Not much to tell really, other than the usual: he had failed to make anything of himself.

The small light on the porch was on when Eddie finally arrived at the trailer and he wondered whether Wayne left it on for him or if he was actually home. He used his key to get inside and let the familiar scent of the trailer hit his nose. It carried a mix of emotions with it, however the good ones always prevailed. He gently closed the door behind him in case Wayne slept, but noticed the door to the bedroom was slightly ajar. Moving closer, he carefully listened for a sound, but there was none. His hand blindly found the lightswitch and to his surprise, the room looked just as he had left it, except with clean sheets.

Eddie walked to the living room and found Wayne’s sofa bed, clearly recently used. It made him wonder whether Wayne had used the bedroom at all ever since he left. Back when Eddie was getting ready to leave for New York, he had reminded Wayne of the fact that he could finally use the bedroom again at last, to which Wayne had joked that his joints might not be ready for the comfort of an actual proper mattress. Now, Eddie just wondered if he had that little faith in him? Expected him back within a month? He never seemed to doubt Eddie’s resolve to move to New York though, at least not back then. Eddie let go of a sigh and walked back to the bedroom to drop his stuff there. Wayne had his habits, and breaking them by sleeping on the couch instead wasn’t gonna be pleasant for him, even if Eddie thought he really should use the bedroom already.

The next morning, Eddie woke up from sounds in the kitchen. When the smell of eggs and bacon hit his nose, he dragged himself out of bed and staggered out of his old room in sweats and a t-shirt. Wayne didn’t look up from the stove, but a smile was evident on his face.

“How come you’re not using the bedroom?” Eddie asked while he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Wayne gave him a short glance before putting the eggs and bacon on their plates.

“That’s one way to say hello,” Wayne mumbled as he turned and sat down at their kitchen table. Eddie joined him.

“Hello,” Eddie said pointedly, “so? Why not?”

Wayne shrugged.

“Been used to sleepin’ on the sofa for so long. Don’t need the extra room.”

“Your back would appreciate it, you know.”

With a roll of his eyes he gestured at Eddie with the nice he was holding.

“Eat your breakfast, son.”

They ate in silence after that. Neither of them were very talkative just after waking up and it was a common agreement that breakfast was meant for eating and less for chit chatting. It felt nice, being back home. Listening to the way Wayne huffed at the blunt knife not doing its job, the creaking sound of the floor whenever he shifted, the inconsistent barking outside from the dog of one of their neighbors.

“So, how’s New York?” Wayne asked. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t talked about it on the phone before, but it had been a year since Eddie had been home. If Eddie was honest, he wanted to hug the man. He had missed him so much. But that wasn’t a common thing. Hugs. They hugged when it mattered. It wasn’t much of a casual thing.

“It’s alright,” Eddie replied casually. “I’m staying with a guy currently, his name’s… Theo. Short for Theodore.”

“A recent thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Since you had to think about his name.”

Right. To be fair, Eddie had only moved in with him last week. It was part of the reason why he hadn’t left anything valuable back there, just in case. Theo seemed like a chill guy, however, many people in New York seemed chill at first. Anyway.

“It’s a recent thing, yeah. Kinda been couch hopping for a while now.”

“I see. You like it there?”

“It’s alright. Just can’t really find my footing yet. It’ll take some time I guess.”

Wayne gave him a look. It had some concern etched in it, and Eddie did not like that one bit. He didn’t want Wayne to worry about him.

“You can always stay here, if you need more time figuring things out.”

“I’m fine, Wayne,” Eddie mumbled, making sure to look at his uncle as he spoke. “I promise.”

He knew he hadn’t convinced him when Wayne stayed quiet and continued to finish his food, but there really wasn’t anything else to say. He was fine.

He was fine.

Later that day, Eddie decided to check on the Hellfire kids. He knew Gareth, Jeff and Doug were out of town, so that left the others. However when he tried to phone their homes, no one picked up. At least not until Dustin.

“Hey, man. What’s up? It’s Eddie. I’m back in town for the holidays and I thought—”

Dustin quickly interrupted him, sounding distracted.

“Oh, hey Eddie, uhm— I’m kinda in the middle of something right now. Is this important?”

Eddie frowned, feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest at Dustin’s indifferent reaction. He knew he wasn’t exactly at the top of anyone’s friend list, but part of him at least thought he was liked enough to be greeted with a little more excitement.

“Uh, no, not really I guess.”

“Ok, cool, I’ll talk to you soon, yeah? Bye!”

Before Eddie could even respond, Eddie heard the dull tone on the other hand signaling that Dustin had hung up already.

“Okay…” he sighed to himself. “Whatever, man.”

Eddie spent most of his afternoon trying to fix his van, partially to have something to do and partially because she deserved better than being neglected in a random parking lot. He hadn’t really thought it through when he parked her there as it was the closest parking lot to get to the bus he needed to get on back then. Thankfully, after about two to three hours, she was gently rumbling again and he could take her back home to Wayne’s.

Wayne had left him a note that he left early for his shift, which for Eddie was code for ‘went to visit Claudia before work’, because Wayne never left a minute earlier or later than he had to when it came to work. Bored out of his mind, Eddie decided to play music for a bit, indulge in some beers and eventually, he figured it was time for a nightly escapade. He rolled a particularly strong joint and set off to find out whether the mystery snowman was still there or not.

It had been stuck in his mind all day, for some reason. He was still curious who had sculpted it, and he wondered if maybe he’d run into them. Or perhaps it was already destroyed. Or some animal peed on it. On a whim, he draped a large red scar around his neck and he set off for the woods. There had been a bit more snowfall during the evening, meaning that the forest path was dusted in white again. He felt it crunch underneath his boots and while he enjoyed it for the first ten minutes, he quickly got annoyed with the strain it put on his legs as he walked. Soon enough though, he came to the clearing where the snowman still stood as he had found him the day before.

“I’m back,” Eddie announced before softly chuckling to himself. He had tried to save the joint for when he arrived but instead had already smoked up most of it on the way out of pure boredom. Safe to say, he was feeling a pleasant buzz already. “Did ya miss me?”

He glanced at the statue and wondered why he hadn’t noticed before that whoever made this snowman hadn’t bothered to give the poor man clothes. In fact, it was awfully detailed, at least until the snowman’s waist. Anything below that was just one big piece of snow. As Eddie leaned in closer, he noticed how his chest actually seemed sort of… textured? A great representation of Harrington’s chest hair, not that he’d known much about it. It even had nipples. The only thing missing, probably, were his distinctive moles. What a wasted opportunity. Those freckles and moles were the best part of the damn guy.

“You know, I said you looked like someone yesterday, right? Asshole jock, that one? The name’s Steve Harrington. Whoever made you is really obsessed with the man because the details of that chest are way too accurate. I mean— anyway. I wonder if this girl’s gonna show him. That would be awkward. Funny, but awkward…”

Eddie took a last hit and flicked the roach somewhere in the snow.

“Don’t think he’s dating that Wheeler girl anymore, so who knows. Maybe she’s got a shot. The one who made this, I mean. Like, I’d be pretty flattered if anyone took the time to recreate me like this. Also creeped out though. Cause… It's pretty insane, right? Fuck I’m rambling. Why would you care? You’re a fucking statue,” Eddie groaned at his own inability to shut up and sat himself down on the ground. He let his hands sink in the snow as he leaned back on them, which he immediately regretted as an icy cold feeling crept up his fingers. He kept his hands there for a good minute before he put them in his lap and rubbed them warm.

“I honestly thought people would be more excited to see me, ya know,” Eddie sighed, unsure why he was still rambling to a damn snowman. “None of the kids picked up and the one that did said that he didn’t have time. I literally was out of town for almost a year. And there wasn’t even a hint of surprise at me being back. It’s like… I mean, clearly he doesn’t give a fuck. And I shouldn’t give a fuck either, but what the hell, man. It kinda sucks.”

Almost as if to prove to himself how stubborn he was, he let himself fall back on the snow and moved his arms and legs around to make a snow angel until he once again remembered that snow was cold. And wet. And he wasn’t wearing enough to handle wet clothes in more places than his butt at the moment. Speaking of his butt, he realized at that moment that it had gone completely numb.

With some effort, he lifted himself off the ground and wiped off some of the snow wherever he could reach it.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. For some reason I wanna thank you for listening, which is so fucked up. How starved for human contact am I, really? Jesus Christ.”

He waited for a moment, as if he expected the snowman to respond. He adjusted his scarf a little and grimaced at the itchiness. He looked at the naked torso of the snowman and hummed to himself.

“Actually,” he started as he took off the red scarf, “you can have this one. For your modesty or whatever,” Eddie added with a soft chuckle. He draped the scarf around the snowman’s neck and gently secured it at the front. “There. Gorgeous as ever.”

Eddie nodded as he walked away from the snowman.

“Yeah, you heard me. Asshole jock is annoyingly handsome. Too hot for his own good. Such a waste of pretty features.”

Between him and the snowman, he was pretty sure no one believed him at that last part.

Christmas Eve had been wonderful. He had a good talk with Wayne about New York, finally got some more info on Claudia— and apparently Dustin got along well with Wayne too, which filled him with both relief and some envy. Though, when Eddie asked if Dustin had been around when Wayne went to see Claudia, he had said he was out with friends. So at least he was as busy as he claimed to be, in some way. They also played some cards and enjoyed a few too many drinks. Which was why Wayne was already passed out on the couch while Eddie gingerly sipped from another glass of whiskey, enjoying the quiet of his head a little too much to stop.

If only his mind had been quiet enough to not be compelled to go to the snowman again. Really, he had no business there. But for some reason it was nice to just talk to an inanimate object that still represented a human. He’d been smart enough to bring a plastic bag to sit on this time while he rambled on about his failed life in New York. How he wasn’t sure what he was doing, what he wanted, what his next step would be. He talked about anything and everything.

So naturally, Steve Harrington was a topic Eddie couldn’t avoid, one he just had to mention. Again.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Frosty,” Eddie teased as he rounded around the snowman and prodded his pecs. “Y’know, if you were real, I’d probably flirt with you,” he admitted gingerly. “If you were real and not Steve Harrington, that is. I’m not that stupid.”

He sat down with a huff and squinted up at the statue as if he was looking into the sun.

“I feel like we’re on a level where I can be honest with you, right? Those people in New York? Not all girls. Guys too. I’m into both. Which brings me back to you and your insufferable look-a-like. ‘Cause you’re the OG now. I’ve had more conversations with you than I ever did with him. Pretty one-sided still, but you get what I mean.”

Eddie paused for effect, letting it hang in the air for a bit to keep up the suspense.

“He was like, my first guy crush. I’m pretty sure anyway. I used to daydream about him and his stupid hair and how I wanted to grab it and make him look at me with those goddamn beautiful hazel eyes before I’d kiss him. I had never kissed anyone back then, by the way. But strong fantasies do the trick. And well, daydream about the same guy too often and you realize you have a problem, I guess. At least, it was a problem back then. Didn’t love having yet another thing about me that didn’t fit the mold.”

He absently kicked against a branch, which barely moved an inch so he left it at that.

“Now I’m cool with it. I mean, it’s fun. But back then it was torture because it felt like a waste to spend so much time thinking about a straight guy. Like, there was no way this dude was ever gonna be into me. Even if he was into guys. He surely wouldn’t be into me. So yeah. Uh. No one knows about this by the way. I hid this one pretty well if I may say so myself.”

He grimaced and pulled his knees up so he could wrap his arms around them and rest his chin on top of it. It felt good to say all of it out loud for once. Even in New York he had made up a different story, because being into Steve Harrington was something he simply hadn’t been ready to admit out loud. Apparently, now he was. From his inside pocket, he grabbed a flask that he had filled with the remaining whiskey and took a ginger sip.

“Kinda pathetic, isn’t it. Christmas Eve, and I’m sitting here talking to you.” A beat. A soft sigh. “Kinda wish you were real.”

Eddie let his fantasies get the better of him as he sipped from his flask, looking up at the handsome snowman who, by the way, still wore his scarf. With some effort he got back up on his feet, wobbling a little as the alcohol made its way to his brain and slowed him down. He paused when he was right in front of the snowman, staring into its eyes which seemed to stare right back at him, even if the pupils were missing.

“Ah, what the hell.” Eddie leaned forward and pressed a quick, teasing kiss to the snowman’s lips. There. Now he could—

At first, he thought it was raining. He felt droplets land into his hair and on his cheeks, and his clothes felt a little damp until the feeling suddenly evaporated entirely.

Eddie stumbled backwards and blinked his eyes rapidly, wondering if he’d really gone too far on his alcohol consumption this time. But, that couldn’t be, this wasn’t even half of what he would throw back on a good weekend. Or a bad one, depending how you’d look at it.

“Eddie,”

Fuck. Eddie blinked again. Fuck fuck FUCK. His voice was hoarse, sounding a mix of relieved yet confused, and mostly tired. His voice, belonging to Steve Harrington.

Eddie stared at him, took notice of how the snowman was definitely gone and how there was now an actual human standing there. And not just some human. Steve Harrington. Alive. Barefoot. Bare everything, really, except for the red scarf still draped around his neck. Surprisingly it was long enough to do all the way down to his junk. Not that Eddie was looking.

Eddie did the only sensible thing. 

He screamed.

The silence that followed Eddie’s scream was deafening, save for the soft sound of snow falling around them. When did it start to snow again anyway? Steve flinched, his hands covering his ears not long before his hands started to do a complete body check, all while Eddie looked like he had seen a monster.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, their breaths coming out in visible puffs of air. Eddie felt like laughing, crying and straight-up bolting and never looking back altogether. Steve visibly shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.

“You were the statue,” Eddie muttered under his breath, and Steve nodded.

“Yup,” he responded, with a weak pop of his P.

“There’s no way. There’s no fucking way. I must have accidentally just ate an entire tray of edibles and not remember or I don’t fucking know—”

“I can explain— sort of. I think. I don’t know the details yet.”

“Yet?! What?”

“It’s uh… kind of a long story,” Steve winced.

“Kind of a long story?” Eddie’s laugh came out shrill, almost hysterical. “You can’t just magically un-snowman yourself and then just say that! Kind of a long story?!”

“Hey! I didn’t magically un-snowman myself! That was your doing! And by the way, I’m not fucking thrilled about this either, alright? I’m freezing my goddamn balls off here.”

Steve tried to let the scarf cover a larger portion of his body but failed to do so. Meanwhile, Eddie had already shrugged off his winter coat and threw it in Steve’s direction.

“The fuck? What do you mean I magically un-snowmanned you?” Eddie almost sounded offended at the mere suggestion, but Steve didn’t have time for that as he quickly put the coat on. It didn’t do much for his lower half, but it was much better than nothing. He sighed contentedly. When Eddie’s eyes met his, he realized he hadn’t answered his question yet.

“You kissed me,” Steve said matter-of-factly.

Eddie felt like his heart stopped. “What?” he asked weakly, “no I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did.” Steve gestured vaguely at his mouth. “That’s when it happened. You kissed me, and then—poof. Back to normal. Sort of.”

“No fucking way.” Eddie shook his head vigorously, his hair getting even more frizzed in the process. “That wasn’t—it wasn’t even like, a real kiss!” Eddie protested. “How would that…”

“Beats me.” Steve looked around at the clearing, his breath fogging in the cold. “But… uh, thanks, I guess?”

Eddie’s face burned hotter than it ever had in this forsaken gold weather.

“Don’t thank me. I’m not—this isn’t—you were a snowman, Steve.”

Steve couldn’t help but smirk.

“You go around kissing snowmen often? Or just the annoyingly handsome ones?”

Eddie froze.

“Oh no. No, no, nope, I’m out. I gotta— Fuck this is so bad.”

He covered his face with his hands and turned away from Steve as he tried to recall all the things he had told the snowman—told Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice was soft, almost hesitant. “It’s not… that bad.”

Eddie’s mouth turned into a thin line and he shook his head.

“Forget it. Let’s get you uh, home, or something.”

Steve sighed and put his hands deeper in Eddie’s coat. It was actually pretty warm, thanks to Eddie wearing it prior.

“It’s fine, I can get home and I’ll just… I promise to drop the coat off as soon as I’m dressed, alright?”

He was surprised to hear a scoff out of Eddie and looked up, only to be met with soft eyes that were nowhere as loud as the indignant sounds his mouth made.

“I’m not letting you go home alone like this, Harrington. Don’t you know what happens to pretty boys when they show their ankles late at night?” Eddie asked rhetorically, happy to see that it got a smile out of Steve. The last thing he wanted was for Steve to think he was a bother. Which… was uncharacteristic of him in general, wasn’t it? Eddie nodded towards something that once resembled a path.

“It’s that way, right? To your place?”

“Forgive me if I’m a little disoriented right now,” Steve said dryly. Eddie smirked and sat down on the ground as he started to undo his boots. He put them in front of Steve and looked up. For a moment, he needed all his willpower not to look at something else that piqued his interest, only just hidden by the scarf and coat. It was a good thing the coat was a little long on him.

“Try them on?”

Steve wanted to protest, but one look at Eddie convinced him that it would just be a waste of time to have a back and forth with him and so, he picked up a boot and did his best to balance himself against the tree to put one on. Thankfully, it fit. After putting the other one on, he looked at Eddie’s feet. Two mismatching socks, a red and a green one.

“Festive,” Steve said with a nod to the socks.

“What can I say, I am a huge enjoyer of Christmas.”

“Right.”

They started to walk towards Steve home at a gentle pace. The streets were empty, mostly due to the fact that everyone was busy celebrating and that it was also kind of late already. Both of them were grateful for that. They didn’t want to know what people would say or do if they saw them like this. Neither boy said much on the way home. The cold controlled their thoughts more than they liked, with Eddie’s feet being soaking wet and Steve, well. He had never felt so small there. Part of him wondered if it would still work and not just fall off due to frostbite or something.

When they arrived at Steve’s place, he fished a spare key from inside a flowerpot to which Eddie tutted, saying it was too obvious. Steve ignored him and opened the door, only then realizing that the lights were on.

“What the—”

“STEVE! Steve! You’re— but how?! We searched all over for you but you were— Eddie?”

Dustin abruptly stopped talking to stare at Eddie, then back to Steve and back to Eddie again. Eddie noticed that Dustin wasn’t the only one in Steve’s house. In fact, it was an odd combination of people. All the Hellfire kids were there, as well as… Robin? Nancy? And Jonathan? While Steve had been away for at least three days?

“Listen— we can talk this through after I’ve put on some clothes, alright? I would say make yourself at home but… seems like you’re doing just fine,” he said, his expression one that would’ve made Eddie laugh if all of this hadn’t been the weirdest thing he’d ever lived through.

Without waiting for an answer, Steve ascended the stairs stiffly, only to turn around halfway and look at Eddie.

“You coming?”

And if that didn’t cause a great mixture of facial expressions, including Eddie’s. However, he nodded wordlessly and quickly followed Steve upstairs. He followed Steve right into the bathroom and then realized maybe he shouldn’t have, because Steve suddenly dropped the coat and took off the scarf and Eddie’s shoes without a second thought and jumped into the shower. Right in front of him. Like it was nothing. Must be a remnant of being a jock and being naked around other guys all the time, Eddie supposed. But wait—

Eddie had confessed that he was into guys, which apparently, Steve had been able to hear as well. And Steve wasn’t… weird about it? Yet? So what did that—

“Hey, Eddie, could you uh, maybe grab some clothes in my room? I was so focused on not being cold that I kinda forgot.” Steve was only a blur now, with the steam fogging up the glass wall between them. “Grab some for yourself as well, whatever you need.”

“Uh… okay,” Eddie said hesitantly, swallowing the question why Steve wanted him upstairs. Probably just to give him socks, he realized later. It felt illegal to be in Harrington’s (he needed to keep him at a mental distance) lair, though it hadn’t been the first time he had been up there. He remembered one party where he had gone up to this room after selling all his stuff and then laying down on Harrington’s bed for a couple minutes before a couple footsteps made him bolt right out again veeeery quickly. Anyway, back to business.

Eddie rummaged through the drawers to find some clean socks for both, a pair of underwear for Ste— Harrington, and managed to find a sweater (a Christmas one) and some black sweatpants for him. He took off his own wet socks and figured he’d just let them air dry while he waited outside of the bathroom. After about five more minutes, Steve emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist and looked startled when Eddie was right in front of him.

“Oh— Here you are. Why didn’t you just come in? Don’t you gotta dry your feet?”

Eddie shrugged.

“It’s fine. Uh, here.” He quickly handed Steve his clothes, who this time at least had the decency to go back in the bathroom to put it all on. Eddie took the opportunity to put on the dry pair of socks and was only a little annoyed with how good they felt on his feet. Rich people and their quality socks… Once Steve came back out, he had a funny look on his face and pointed at his sweater.

“Really?”

“I mean, someone’s gotta be festive, my socks are swapped now, so…”

“Right.” Steve looked in the direction of the stairs and bit down on his bottom lip. “Uh… about that thing that happened in the woods—”

“I won’t tell a soul.”

Steve frowned and waved at him dismissively. “Not that, I mean, the snowman thing. There’s uh… I don’t know how to explain this in under five minutes, but there’s this other dimension and there’s some weird evil shit happening there and now this, creature, whatever it is, started to turn people into statues. We have no idea how many people it has happened to, I mean, I froze shortly after Lucas did, so I don’t know much… Anyway, it’s gonna be a lot to take in, alright? But I promise you’re not going insane, it’s all real, we’ve all uh, kinda been here before.”

Steve had rushed out the words so fast that Eddie’s ears were ringing. He blinked a couple times, figured a nod would suffice and looked up at Steve again.

“Right… okay. And everyone downstairs is involved?”

Steve nodded.

“Kind of, not on purpose or anything. I’m sure you’ll hear the full story at some point from one of us. ‘Cause… you’re in this now. You can try to forget this shit but you won’t. Just be happy you haven’t seen anything severe.”

“Sounds ominous,” Eddie remarked.

“Yeah, well. It is,” Steve replied matter-of-factly. “Wanna go back downstairs?”

“Sure…”

“So… what. It’s gone now?” Steve asked. Dustin had explained what he had missed out on the past week or so and he had brought Eddie up to speed with the remaining bits that were relevant for now. Apparently El (who Eddie hadn’t even noticed before) had used her superpowers (whatever that meant) to freeze the guy, creature, thing, in return and that was that.

“Yup, and I think everyone should be fine. I mean, Lucas immediately came to and I guess you must have too, since you’re suddenly back here?” Dustin asked. He glanced over to Eddie and he could tell he had a million questions about how him and Steve somehow became a duo, but he seemed to restrain himself.

“Uh, oh. Yeah, I guess so,” Steve replied vaguely, glancing over at Eddie briefly before avoiding his gaze again. “By the way, Eddie found me. So, that’s why he’s here. Which brings me to the question… how the hell did you guys get in here?”

“You don’t hide your spare key well enough,” Max shrugged.

“But it was right where I left it?”

“Well, duh. Where else would we put it?” Mike interjected, immediately making Steve want to roll his eyes. He glanced over at Nancy and Jonathan, who sat huddled close together on the couch.

“So everyone’s okay?” he asked, looking at Nancy, then Robin. The latter nodded.

“At least those that we knew of.”

“And… that monster or whatever isn’t gonna melt itself or something?” Eddie asked softly, glancing over at El, who shook her head.

“He won’t,” she said confidently. Man, Eddie wishes he was that confident about this all.

They talked for a little longer, but eventually decided it would be best if everyone would get some sleep, especially Lucas and Steve considering their situation. Nancy and Jonathan had come with separate cars, so there was enough room to take them all home. When Eddie tried to sneak out the door, muttering some joint goodbyes along with the others, Steve stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

“Your stuff’s still upstairs,” he said softly, although Eddie had a vague feeling that Steve cared very little about that right now.

“Oh, right…”

Dustin turned his head towards them suspiciously as Jonathan drove out of the driveway and Steve simply gave him a quick wave before closing the door behind them.

“So.”

“So…” Eddie repeated.

“Guess it wasn’t some sleeping beauty meets prince type of situation,” Steve mumbled, and he sounded almost disappointed. Eddie smirked and crossed his arms while looking at Steve intently.

“Yeah, no fairytale for us, I suppose.”

Steve hummed softly and moved a little closer. Eddie tried to keep his distance, but Steve was relentless and patient in his slow chase, moving closer until Eddie hit the back of the couch and grabbed onto it for support, less he’d topple over backwards and that would be way too embarrassing.

“You said that if I was real, you’d flirt with me,” Steve reminded him while teasing his finger gently along a lost strand of Eddie’s hair.

“I’m also pretty sure I mentioned I’m smart enough not to go for a straight guy,” Eddie reminded him in return. He tried to control his heart palpitations and failed terribly, especially when Steve smiled slowly, leaned in even closer to the point that Eddie could feel tiny droplets of water land in his neck from Steve’s hair.

“You’re into both,” Steve said. “Why can’t I?”

“I mean… you’re Steve Harrington,” Eddie said weakly.

“Mhm. And you’re Eddie Munson,” Steve said with a nod, “the guy who spent three nights in a row, or at least, I think they were nights, visiting a snowman that resembled me, Steve Harrington, and poured his heart out to him, it, whatever, and then kissed me—it.”

“Did you…’ Eddie started, and he looked over at the door. He was ready to run if he had to. Ready to escape the wrath that was about to be bestowed upon him if he spoke these thoughts out loud. “Did you like it?”

Steve cocked his head with a smile and lifted one shoulder casually.

“I don’t know. It was a little short, and my mind was kind of occupied with other things. I could be a better judge this time around.”

“This—This time around?” Eddie stammered.

“Unless you don’t want to, I mean, after all, you had a lot of things to say about me.”

“Harrington— I mean, Steve, I— I didn’t mean it like that. The things I said… I was just rambling. I would never say that stuff about you if you were within hearing distance, ‘cause it’s not… true. I know you’re a good guy and—”

“Eddie.”

“Yes…?”

Eddie looked up at Steve, who suddenly seemed a little taller for some reason, towering over him as his hand moved to cup his jaw, thumb grazing his cheekbone softly. He searched his eyes for anything, anything that would explain what was happening because surely Steve wasn’t about to kiss—

Steve was kissing him.

Steve Harrington was kissing him.

Steve Harrington was kissing Eddie Munson.

On the mouth, no less.

Eddie wasted about half a minute before he regained enough composure to kiss him back. It was hesitant, shy, almost. Steve giggled into the kiss and gave him a few pecks in between.

“C’mon,” he urged him softly, sweetly. “Gimme a real kiss already.”

Eddie did.

He grabbed Steve’s face with both hands, stood up straight, and nudged him back until Steve’s shoulders hit the wall. Their tongues danced, fighting for dominance, as Steve smiled into the kiss. Eddie shifted, planting his hands on either side of Steve's head and threading their fingers together, grounding them both in the moment.

Suddenly, Eddie pulled back. Steve looked at him with a dazed expression and when Eddie dropped his hands, he held onto his waist instead.

“Eddie…?”

“Wait—” Eddie said, even as he leaned into Steve’s touch. “I’m still kinda drunk, right? So I gotta know that this,” he gestured between them, “is real.”

Steve visibly relaxed and gently squeezed his waist.

“It’s real,” Steve almost whispered, thumbs circling Eddie’s shirt. “We’ve got some catching up to do, but it’s all real.”

“You don’t uh, hate me for the things I said?”

“You kept me sane in there. And a little humbled, but that’s alright,” Steve teased with a grin. “If it wasn’t for you being there… I think I would’ve gone insane.”

“Sorry for only visiting so little then,” Eddie mumbled. “In my defence, I thought you were just a very detailed snowman.”

“Oh, right. Something about my chest hair? You mentioned how accurate it was, or something.”

Eddie’s cheeks immediately turned visibly pink.

“Shut up,” Eddie said quickly, “shut up right now.”

Steve shook his head and smiled.

“Nah.” He paused. “Unless you make me.”

Eddie smirked as Steve wiggled his eyebrows cheekily at him. How could he ever turn down an offer like that? 

Of course he kissed him.

Hope you liked it! If you did, a reblog would be most appreciated. :) That's how the work can travel to other eyes after all! Would love to hear your thoughts whatsoever. And uh, Merry early Christmas!

[rachalixie]

eight days of christmas carols - day 7

seungmin - santa tell me

to you, kim seungmin was - complicated, to say the least. he’s the picture perfect boy-next-door, wide and awkward braced smiles turning into the elegance with which he carries himself as the years passed by. 

you can’t remember when you first fell in love with him, but with every passing winter you fell harder and harder into his charm. from the neighborhood christmas parties that you only attended so that you could talk to him to the present he would drop off for you in the earliest hours of christmas morning, there wasn’t a single thing he did that turned you away from him. 

except for the fact that you didn’t know how he felt about you. 

when you were younger, you would write about him in the letters that other kids would wish for gifts in. santa, tell me, you’d pen, keeping your handwriting neat so that whoever received it would have no guesses as to what you wanted to know. does he really care?

now, you knew better. you knew he cared, he was your best friend in so many different ways. the lingering question remained, though, of whether he wanted more.

a question that kept you distant from him in times where you wanted nothing more but to melt into his stupidly boyfriend-shaped hoodies. times like right now, as you were hiding behind your decked christmas tree, peering out at the lingering crowd of party goers that were slowly leaving one by one as the christmas day passed. 

you find seungmin among them, his parents somewhere not too far, and he’s kneeling on the hardwood petting your dog who looks like he’s having the best day of his entire life. he’s smiling up at your parents while he scratches at your dogs ears, and they look so right together - like they were family. 

it’s not an uncommon sight, since your family held this party year after year. and year after year without fail, seungmin attended like he had nowhere else he would rather be, like he was where he belonged. 

you take an ornament into your hand, your oldest one that’s stayed with you almost as long as seungmin had. it was a plush snowman with a santa hat, threads along the edges fraying with age. 

santa tell me, you whisper to it, feeling a bit silly. is he really there? 

seungmin glances in your direction as if he heard you over the chatter in the room, a frown on his face as his eyes dart back and forth until they land on you. immediately, a smile takes over his features, his eyes brightening like the lights in front of you and his spine straightening in excitement. he holds a hand out to you, beckoning you over with not a single question of why you were hiding in your own home, and you know this is your sign. 

play it cool, you mutter to yourself as you detach your body from its position behind the tree. this was your chance. 

you approach him with a question on your lips that you hope above everything else he says yes to. 

—

carols masterlist