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Habits of the Heart Christmas: Baba’s Kissing Santa Claus

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Mahaad yawns loudly, tucking himself closer into Zayn’s side on the couch. The Christmas movies play quietly on the telly in front of them, Bashar curled up with Clark by his feet and Maira wrapped in one of the blankets Karen had made for her birthday.

Zayn tucks a finger under Mahaad’s chin, wiggling him gently with a soft laugh that Mahaad pouts his lips at. “No sleeping just yet, beta. Santa’s coming.”

Mahaad’s brow wrinkles, sleep making his eyes heavy. “But Christmas isn’t until next week.”

Zayn grins, plopping a kiss to Mahaad’s forehead. “You’ll see babe, just one -”

A loud ho ho ho sounds from outside their front door, followed by a deep laugh that sounds distinctly like Liam but Mahaad gives him a look of confusion as he perks his head up to look at the door.

“Santa?” Maira gasps and it seems like she can’t move fast enough with the speed she disentangles herself from the blanket, and the way she scurries across the living room before Zayn can even ask her to get the door.

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Habits of the Heart Drabble: Halloween

Someone requested more Mahaad and Zayn drabbles, and this is an excuse to write Ziam in supersuits hehe x)

Zayn bites around his smile, leaning against the entrance to the kitchen as he watches them in the living room. Mahaad has Hayam in his lap, a serious expression set on his face as he instructs Hayam to dig her fingers into the pumpkins.

She does, giggling like mad as she plops the seeds and gunk onto the bowl Zayn had placed on the table. Maira had been uninterested in the pumpkins, preferring to be with her Papa outside, jumping into the pile of colorful leaves everytime he makes one. He knows it is frustrating, but he hasn’t said anything to her because it is quite adorable as well.

“Careful, Hayam,” Mahaad scolds gently as she misses the bowl and drops some onto the floor. He glances up at Zayn, eyes wide as he grimaces nervously at him. “Gotta put it in the bowl.”

Zayn chuckles softly, pushing off the door frame so he can close the space between them. Mahaad has a seed stuck to his cheek, and he wrinkles his nose as Zayn tickles it off. He drags his fingers through Hayam’s curls, which have seemed to grow overnight.

“Baba,” Hayam coos, wiggling her gunk covered hands at him. She giggles when Zayn bends forward to tickle under her chin. “Messy.”

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