#eli walker

C's corner: So Sunday evening, I was getting really comfortable in bed, getting ready to go to sleep and I remembered... the damn elf! It can be exhausting, but it's a silly tradition and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: Domestic chaos, messes, glitter, flour, marshmallows everywhere, implied adult intimacy between reader and John, general holiday/Christmas themes: Elf on the Shelf, Santa, etc.

SUMMARY: When you suggest doing Elf on the Shelf “on just some days” to make the holidays more magical for Eli, John reluctantly agrees… and quickly discovers that one tiny elf named Chaos Jingles can derail sleep schedules, destroy your kitchen, and somehow make your apartment feel more like a real home.

You don't mean to say the words that change John Walker's life forever.

You're just standing in the kitchen in fuzzy socks and a Santa sweatshirt, stirring cocoa while Christmas music hums in the background. There's tinsel on the counter, flour on your leggings from cookie dough, and the faint smell of pine everywhere from the real tree John insisted on.

"Plastic is not the Christmas spirit, sweetheart."

Eli is at the table, coloring a crooked Christmas tree for school, tongue poking out in concentration. John is standing behind him, huge hands braced on the back of the chair like he's guarding a national treasure, not a seven year old boy with marker on his fingers and socks that don't match.

It's warm, cozy, domestic, and your chaos brain decides to open its mouth.

"We should do Elf on the Shelf," you say, casual. "You know, up the Christmas spirit for Eli."

John looks up like you just suggested summoning an actual demon "Absolutely not."

You snort "You don't even know what it is."

"Oh, I know enough," he grumbles, crossing his arms. "A creepy little doll moving around the house, watching the kid. That's horror movie material, not Christmas."

You abandon the cocoa and pad over, bumping his hip with yours. "It's not a horror movie, John. It's fun." you lower your voice "We move the elf at night, Eli wakes up and finds him doing silly stuff. Keeps the magic alive."

He squints at you "You already act like a human tornado. You want a sidekick now?"

You grin "Yes."

Eli perks up "What's Elf on the Shelf?"

You glance at John, who mutters, "Traitor," under his breath.

"It's a Christmas elf," you explain, leaning on the table. "He comes from the North Pole and hangs out here to report back to Santa about how good you're being. But he's kinda mischievous. Every night he moves and does something silly. You find him in the morning."

Eli's eyes go huge "We can have an elf here?"

"If your dad doesn't ruin Christmas, yeah," you say, very pointedly.

John's jaw drops. "I am not... I don't..." He sputters, then sees Eli's hopeful face and deflates with a long sigh. "You're killing me, sweetheart."

"So that's a yes?" Eli asks, hopeful.

John scrubs a hand over his face. "Yeah, bud. I guess that's a yes."

Eli cheers. You smirk and pat John's chest "Welcome to the big leagues, Walker. We're about to make some core memories."

He narrows his eyes "If this backfires, I'm blaming you."

You grin wider "What could possibly go wrong?"

You find out very quickly, everything.

The elf arrives the next Friday, conveniently accompanied by a grocery run you absolutely did not orchestrate in advance. At least that's the story you're sticking to.

You set the little red and white menace on the counter and call the boys in.

Eli's face lights up "He's so small!"

John eyes it like it's going to attack. "Why is it looking at me like that?"

"It's a painted smile, John."

"Yeah, but it's… smug."

Eli picks him up carefully. "What's his name?"

You hadn't gotten that far.

"Chaos," you say.

"Absolutely not," John says at the exact same time.

Eli giggles "Chaos is funny."

John groans "We are not naming him Chaos."

"Okay," you say, thinking fast "How about… Jingles?"

Eli considers it, then shakes his head "Chaos Jingles."

You clap "Perfect."

John closes his eyes like he's praying for patience "Our elf is named Chaos Jingles. Fantastic."

You wink at him over Eli's head "Fits the household vibe."

You quickly learn there are two parts to Elf on the Shelf

The delightful, wholesome chaos Eli experiences.

The sleep deprived, borderline, unhinged chaos you and John experience trying to stay ahead of him.

Night one, you start easy.

After Eli goes to bed, you and John stand in the living room, staring at the tiny elf like it's a bomb.

"What do we do with him?" John asks.

"You're the creative one," you say.

He snorts "Since when?"

"Since you managed to make chicken nuggets and frozen peas feel like a gourmet meal last weekend," you say "That was artistry."

John's ears go a little pink "That was just dinner."

"Dinner that made your son say, 'Wow, Dad, this is better than McDonald's.' That's high praise in kid language."

He looks at the elf again "So we just… move him?"

"Yeah, but make it fun."

You end up taping Chaos Jingles to the side of the fridge, making it look like he's scaling it with a candy cane grappling hook, string and tape. You step back, hands on hips.

"Art," you declare.

John squints "He looks like he's committing a crime."

"Yeah. Stealing snacks."

He grunts. "Fitting. Fine. Day one: fridge felony."

You high five.

Morning comes with Eli's delighted shriek.

"DAD! HE MOVED!"

You and John stumble out half awake to find Eli standing in front of the fridge, pointing in awe.

John manages to look surprised, even though you can see his lip twitch "Would you look at that," he says "Little guy's got, uh, upper body strength."

Eli spins "He really came from the North Pole?"

You smile, leaning against the counter "Sure did. He must've seen you were extra good this week."

Eli stands a little taller, pride glowing on his face. John glances at you, soft and grateful, something warm in his eyes that makes your chest ache.

Okay, you think. Maybe this was a good idea.

By weekend two, things start to spiral.

It starts with glitter.

You'd had a long week, your brain fried, and in a moment of what you thought was pure genius, you set Chaos Jingles up in the center of the dining table on a mound of flour "snow," complete with glitter snow angels.

You clap silently to yourself at midnight, very proud.

At 6:45 a.m., you realize your mistake.

Eli is over the moon, of course.

"HE MADE SNOW! INSIDE!"

He's touching the flour. He's touching the glitter. He is the flour. He is the glitter.

John stands in the doorway with coffee, staring at the table, the floor, Eli's face, and then you.

"You," he says slowly, "gave a seven year old access to weaponized glitter?"

You grimace "In my defense, it looked really cute last night."

"Uh-huh." He gestures at Eli, who now looks like he lost a fight with a craft store "In my defense, we're never getting that out of the couch."

You mouth, "Worth it," and John just shakes his head, but you can see the way he watches Eli giggle, making another snow angel in the flour.

Later, when you're vacuuming glitter out of the seams of the floor, John comes up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and presses his face into your neck.

"You're lucky I'm crazy about you," he murmurs.

You laugh "You love it."

He groans "I love you. The glitter is a hostage situation."

Night ideas start running out faster than you expect.

You do the elf in the cereal box, elf reading a tiny book, elf "roasting" mini marshmallows over a tea light, unlit, you're not totally irresponsible.

You and John become black-ops agents of Christmas chaos, sneaking around at night.

One evening, you're both in the bathroom trying to suspend Chaos Jingles from the shower rod on a ribbon zipline. You're on the edge of the tub, John's holding your hips to keep you from falling, and you're both giggle whispering like teenagers past curfew.

"This is ridiculous," John mutters.

"Ridiculously adorable," you correct, fumbling with the knot "He's ziplining into the shampoo like an action hero."

John leans in "Pretty sure the action hero's currently wobbling in my hands."

You wobble more on purpose "Catch me, then."

He does, arms tight around you as you almost slip off the tub. You end up chest to chest, faces inches apart in the steamy bathroom light, the elf dangling crookedly from his ribbon.

"I swear." His voice is low, amused "You are gonna be the death of me."

"Festive death," you whisper.

He laughs, soft and quiet, forehead touching yours. There's toothpaste on his T-shirt, a tiny bit of flour still in his hair from earlier cookies, and you fall in love with him a little more.

"C'mon," you say, pulling back. "Before Eli comes in to pee and we traumatize him for life."

You both fix the elf, then tiptoe out like you've just completed a covert mission. John smacks your butt as you pass.

"Agent Chaos, mission accomplished."

The first real disaster happens on a Sunday.

You forget.

It's not your fault... okay, it's partially your fault, but you had a late night wrapping presents, and John fell asleep halfway through The Grinch, and Chaos Jingles stayed exactly where he'd been the night before, stuck inside the cookie jar.

You wake up to Eli's outraged yell.

"DAD! SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH CHAOS JINGLES!"

Your heart drops.

You and John meet eyes over your pillows.

"Oh no," you whisper.

"Oh, great," he mutters, already getting up "I knew this thing was cursed."

You scramble into the kitchen behind him, mentally ransacking your brain for an excuse. Elf flu? North Pole time delay? Santa's Wi-Fi went out?

Eli stands next to the counter, lower lip trembling "He didn't move," he says quietly "Did… did I do something bad?"

Your chest cracks clean in half.

"No, baby," you rush to say, kneeling next to him "You're perfect. You're so good. He just… uh…"

John clears his throat behind you. When you look back, you see that face, the one he used to wear in uniform when he had to think on his feet.

"Hey, bud," he says gently, coming around to lean on the counter "You know how sometimes I have to work late? And I get real tired?"

Eli nods.

"Well, turns out even North Pole agents get tired sometimes. Chaos Jingles probably had a long night flying back and forth to Santa. Maybe he needed a nap."

Eli sniffles "Elves get tired?"

"Sure do," John says. He gives the elf a look "Especially when they've been doing a whole lot of… ziplining and glitter disasters."

You shoot him a look, but he smirks.

"Tell you what," John continues. "Why don't we write him a note? Say it's okay if he needs a day off. That way he knows we're not mad at him."

You watch the idea land in Eli's brain, his shoulders relaxing. "Yeah," he says quietly "We can do that."

You grab a sticky note and a pen, and Eli dictates while you write

Dear Chaos Jingles, It's ok if you need a nap. I still love you. Please don't be tired forever. Love, Eli

You stick it to the cookie jar.

Eli gives the elf a gentle pat "I hope he feels better."

When he goes to the living room to put on cartoons, you exhale so hard your lungs burn.

"That was really good," you tell John, straightening up.

He shrugs, eyes soft as he looks toward the doorway where Eli disappeared "I don't want him thinking he did anything wrong. Kid's got enough going on with the back and forth between houses."

You reach for his hand, squeezing. "You're a good dad, you know that?"

He scoffs "I'm trying not to screw him up too bad."

"You're doing amazing." You lean up and kiss his cheek "Also, we are never forgetting again."

He gives you a look. "We?"

You point at his chest. "You live here too, sir."

He rolls his eyes but smiles. "Yeah, yeah. Team elf. Ride or die."

You start setting reminders on your phone.

"MOVE CHAOS, YOU MENACE" goes off every night at 10 p.m.

Sometimes, you're mid movie and both groan like you're being drafted into a war. Sometimes, you and John are… in the middle of other activities and the alarm goes off at a truly inopportune moment.

Like Friday night.

You're straddling John on the couch, half under a blanket, his hands on your hips, the Christmas tree glowing soft in the corner. The TV is playing some random holiday movie you've both stopped paying attention to.

He kisses you slow, thumb tracing lazy circles on your waist "You know, I used to hate Christmas," he murmurs.

You pull back slightly. "You did not."

"I did." He shrugs, eyes flicking to the tree "Too much pressure, not enough sleep. Always felt like I was missing something. Deployment, training, appearances. Holidays were just… noise."

You soften, brushing your fingers along his jaw "And now?"

"Now it smells like cookies and there's glitter in my coffee and my kid's asleep down the hall and you're sitting on me wearing stupid candy cane socks." His smile is quiet, earnest "So. Improvement."

Your heart melts "I love you," you say, because you can't not.

He looks at you like you've just handed him the sun "Love you too, sweetheart."

The alarm goes off.

MOVE CHAOS, YOU MENACE.

You drop your forehead on his shoulder and groan "I hate us."

John laughs into your hair. "Our tiny overlord demands attention."

You climb off him with exaggerated dramatics. "This is our life now. Out schemed by a ten inch elf."

"Could be worse," he says, standing and stretching "At least Eli thinks we're cool."

You snort "He thinks Chaos Jingles is cool. We're just the elf roadies."

Of course, because you're you, the universe can't let you get through December without one more near death experience.

You decide to go big.

It's the last weekend before Christmas. You want something memorable, something Eli will talk about for years. You convince John to help you set up a "marshmallow hot tub" in the kitchen sink, Chaos Jingles lounging in a bowl full of mini marshmallows, surrounded by rubber ducks, little paper sunglasses, the works.

It's perfect.

It's also very, very sticky.

You're bent over the sink arranging marshmallows. John is drying dishes and stealing kisses every time you pass by.

"Okay," you say finally, stepping back "I think we're good. Elf spa day complete."

"Looks like he's living better than me," John mutters.

"He does less emotional labor," you tease.

You both head to bed, smug.

Morning comes, and with it, Eli barreling into your bedroom.

"DAD! CHAOS JINGLES IS TAKING A BATH IN FOOD!"

You jolt awake, heart pounding.

"Food bath?" you croak.

You and John tumble out of bed, hair wild, stumbling into the kitchen.

Eli is standing on a chair, staring at the sink with sheer awe.

Marshmallows are everywhere.

Apparently, at some point in the night, the bowl tipped. Chaos Jingles is face-down in a sea of sugar, marshmallows scattered across the counter, the floor, and somehow inside a cabinet. It looks like a snack crime scene.

"Whoa," Eli whispers reverently "He had a party."

You and John exchange a look over his head. It is a look that says we are in so much trouble.

John recovers first "Uh… yeah, bud. Looks like he, uh… got a little wild."

You press your lips together to keep from laughing. "Looks like he invited all the marshmallows."

Eli giggles "Can I eat some?"

You quickly assess the situation. Half of these marshmallows have touched unknown surfaces. But his eyes are so bright.

"Tell you what," you say "We're gonna clean these up because Chaos Jingles made a mess. But then… I'll make you fresh hot chocolate with brand new marshmallows. Deal?"

He considers it, then nods "Deal!"

You give him a hug, and as you do, John mouths, thank you over Eli's shoulder.

Later, when Eli's occupied with cartoons and cocoa, you and John tackle the kitchen.

"How," you say, picking a marshmallow off the cabinet handle, "did it get up here?"

"Elf physics," John replies dryly.

You pop it in his mouth.

"Hey!"

"You complain too much, you get pelted," you say primly.

He chews, then pulls you in by the waist "You know he's never gonna forget this, right?"

"The marshmallow massacre of 2025?" you say "No. This is legendary."

He chuckles, eyes soft "I meant… all of it. The elf. The tree. The cookies. The way you… make everything feel like a big deal."

You lose the joke on your tongue.

"Good big deal?" you ask, suddenly unsure.

He brushes a thumb over your cheek "Best big deal. He gets to have magic here. Not… just schedules and rules and me being stressed." He swallows "You gave us that. Both of us."

Your throat tightens "I just wanted him to have good memories," you say "Ones that aren't… complicated."

John's voice is quiet, earnest "He's gonna remember that Christmas was glitter and hot chocolate and his dad laughing in the kitchen with someone he loves." He presses his forehead to yours "So am I."

You smile, watery "You're welcome, Walker."

He kisses you, slow and sweet, marshmallow flavored.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

On Christmas Eve, after Eli falls asleep curled up with his new stuffed reindeer, you and John stand in the doorway of his room for a long moment.

Chaos Jingles is perched on the bookshelf, overlooking everything like a tiny, smug guardian.

"He's gonna be mad when the elf goes back to the North Pole," John murmurs.

"We'll leave him a note," you say softly "Thanking him for the chaos. Promise he'll visit next year."

John huffs a laugh "Next year, huh?"

"Unless this broke you," you tease quietly.

He slips an arm around your shoulders "You know what? I think I can handle a little more chaos."

You lean into him "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

His chest rises and falls slowly "Yeah," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple "Me neither."

You look at the tiny elf, at the sleeping boy, at the life you've somehow built out of glitter and late night scheming and burnt cookies and shared soft moments.

Maybe it's not perfect. Maybe it's messy and loud and full of marshmallow disasters, but it's yours.

And as John turns you toward the hallway, fingers laced with yours, you can't help thinking that for a house that used to be too quiet, too sharp around the edges, it finally feels like Christmas.

What could go wrong, you'd asked?

Everything. Absolutely everything.

And somehow, it turned out exactly right.