#my beautiful christmas tree son

[catastrothy]

im sure youve been asked this before but since you brought up wanting to play pkmn, what are some of your favs? i think my fav is banette :-)

favorite games - b/w and heartgold/soulsilver

favorite pokemon - mismagius, hatterene, tinkaton, froslass

favorite characters - n (my beautiful baby boy) and iono

[rosyblooom]

right person, wrong times | cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: a random day each year across 11 years, as they go from practically strangers, to more, to less, and again. (~4.3k) a/n: inspo from 'one day' !! been struggling with writer's block, so sorry in advance if it's rough lool

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

One day in 2018

Y/N glanced across the crowded room, picking out one familiar face amidst the sea of strangers: Pascale. Their families went way back, but with Y/N's parents splitting when she was just a toddler, she'd spent most of her life in Spain with her dad, Switzerland for boarding school, and rare trips to Monaco to visit her mum—hardly ever crossing paths with the Leclerc's.

But today was different. She found herself in Monaco attending a family gathering to finally meet Pascale's sons properly. She couldn't recall the last time she'd spoken to them, but Pascale had insisted today would be the day, especially since her recent move here.

Across the room, Charles stood, his posture slightly hunched as his mother whispered in his ear, urging him to check on Y/N. "Please go see how Y/N is doing. I'm not sure if she'll remember you, but just introduce yourself and keep her company for a while," Pascale pleaded, fixing him with a hopeful gaze. "Please."

"I don’t even know where she is or what she looks like."

"She's at the bar," Pascale replied with a smile. "She's the pretty one—you won't miss her."

"Very helpful," Charles chuckled, shaking his head before stepping back. "I'll make my way over now."

It didn't take long until he found himself at the bar. Surprisingly, his mother's brief description proved accurate, as Y/N stood out for her beauty—quite a departure from the faint memory he held of her.

Drawing closer, he flashed a warm smile and extended his hand in greeting. "Charles."

Y/N shot him a quick, assessing glance, her eyes flitting over his unruly hair and black attire, before meeting his gaze. "Not interested," she dismissed, her attention already wandering back to the room.

Chuckling at her abruptness, Charles shook his head. "No, no, I wasn't trying to... I'm not here to make a move, I wouldn't."

Y/N turned towards him, her curiosity piqued by his response. "Ouch," she teased, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "So you think I'm ugly, then?" Her lips curved slightly as she awaited his answer.

Heat crept up Charles’ neck, and though he couldn’t see himself, he could sense the warmth spreading across his face. With a nervous stammer, he began, “Wait, no! That’s not what I meant—What I’m trying to say is—”

“Relax,” Y/N interjected with a sympathetic smile. “I’m just kidding. Nice to see you again, Leclerc. It’s been a while, huh?”

Charles let out a long breath, his tension easing slightly. For a moment, he studied Y/N with a discerning gaze, as if attempting to unravel her mystery; she was undeniably peculiar, yet undeniably intriguing. “It has been a while,” he finally acknowledged, nodding slowly.

One day in 2019

This marked Y/N’s first ever Christmas market in Monaco. She had wanted to attend last year’s, but the winter season had always been her least favourite. This time last year, it was simply too cold for her—no matter what the news claimed, she was freezing. But today wasn’t half as bad. Sure, she was bundled up in about three sweaters under her hoodie, which she wore beneath her jacket, but well, you could say she was sensitive to weather.

“Y/N?” a voice suddenly erupted from behind her, pulling her attention away from the gigantic, decorated Christmas tree and towards Charles, who now stood before her, holding two steaming mugs.

Y/N narrowed her gaze, appearing lost in thought. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Charles shook his head and sighed, his breath forming a white cloud in the chilly air. “Right, of course. It’s been a year, so it makes sense for you not to remember me…”

“I'm just joking,” Y/N grinned, nudging him cautiously to avoid any spills. “You’re too easy.”

Charles’ mouth dropped open slightly, his eyes widening for a moment before he chuckled, “Okay, I’m not going to believe anything you say from now on.”

"Good idea," she nodded with a smile. Y/N's gaze then drifted down to the two mugs in his hands, and she inquired, "Am I right to assume that one of these is for me?"

A puzzled expression briefly crossed Charles' face, his brows furrowing slightly, prompting Y/N to gesture towards the cups.

As if suddenly remembering, he exclaimed, "Oh, right! I thought you might want something warm, and who doesn't like hot chocolate, right?" With that, he offered one of the drinks to her.

"I sure do." Y/N took the cup, cupping her cold hands around the hot glass, immediately feeling the stiffness melt away from her fingers. The hot chocolate wasn't nearly as scalding as she had anticipated—it was just right, and she savoured each sip, briefly closing her eyes in contentment. When she reopened them, she couldn't help but remark, "Sweet, just like you."

As if someone had turned on a gas stove, heat rushed to Charles' face, though this time he was fortunate; the weather was already giving him a rosy complexion due to the cold.

But Y/N still noticed, and she smiled. "Don't go getting soft on me now," she teased, bumping her elbow into his arm.

Without really thinking, Charles muttered, "You're not making it easy…" His words slipped out, and with their proximity, Y/N heard him loud and clear. Even though it wasn't the first time she'd heard a comment like that, the fact that it came from Charles sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

"What was that?" Arching a brow, Y/N glanced up at him sideways, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Nothing… Do you want to get inside though? It’s a little too cold for me."

“It’s my first time here,” Y/N said, hooking her arm around his, ignoring the sudden tension in his muscles. “Don’t want to get lost,” she explained, glancing up at Charles, who didn’t object and instead simply nodded. “Right, yeah.”

“So? Lead the way then.”

“Alright, alright,” Charles obliged, skilfully manoeuvring through the crowd, with Y/N beside him.

One day in 2020

“Is this seat taken?” The question caused Y/N to freeze, her forkful of ratatouille dropping onto her plate. She swallowed the remaining food in her mouth and swiftly swept the napkin off her lap, dabbing the corners of her mouth until she was sure there were no traces left.

“Not at all,” she finally responded, turning towards the voice. “I should warn you though—” But the moment her eyes met the familiar pair of Charles’ blue ones, she stopped mid-sentence.

For a brief moment, it seemed as if the rest of the table didn’t exist, as neither of them spoke, both too captivated by the other's presence. With a crooked smile, Charles broke the silence. “You were going to warn me about something?”

Y/N couldn't quite explain why, but the sight of his smile immediately lifted the corners of her mouth, while her stomach somersaulted with a flurry of emotions. She pushed aside the sensation and simply laughed, resting her elbows on the table and burying her face in her hands. “Just forget it,” she mumbled against her palms, loud enough for Charles to hear.

A gentle breeze wafted over her, carrying a familiar, clean scent of laundry detergent that Y/N had come to associate with Charles. Somehow, it immediately calmed the strange fluttering in her stomach, prompting her to lift her gaze again.

“Hi,” she finally greeted with a smile, reaching for the glass of wine on the table.

“Hey,” Charles nodded, settling back in his seat.

They lingered like this for a while, Y/N's gaze fixed on the side of his face while Charles casually surveyed the room, exchanging greetings with a few acquaintances. Squinting slightly, Y/N blurted out, “Are you stalking me?”

Charles burst into laughter, quickly composing himself and leaning towards her. “In my family's house?” he countered.

Y/N nodded in satisfaction as she took a sip from her drink. “Excellent point,” she conceded.

Gently settling the glass down, she redirected her attention to the untouched forkful of food and remarked, “Can I just say, you have to try this, it's so good.” She gestured towards her barely touched plate. “I don’t know what Pascale put in this, but this is the best ratatouille I’ve ever tasted.” Y/N grabbed her fork and extended it towards him, but noticing Charles freeze, she quickly swallowed her words, saying, “Oh, sorry, I know some people are a little iffy with sharing—”

Before she could retract the fork, Charles' warm hands suddenly enclosed around hers, halting her movement as he guided the fork towards his mouth, taking a bite, and nodding at her with a smile. “It’s been my favourite since I was a little kid.”

Y/N whispered softly, her voice barely above a murmur, yet close enough for them to hear each other perfectly. "A man of taste huh?" Her gaze drifted from his eyes down to where his hand still lingered around hers, now tracing soft circles across her skin.

Charles followed Y/N’s line of sight, quickly clearing his throat when he realised what he was doing. He withdrew his hand, causing both to avert their eyes, suddenly finding interest in everything but each other.

The last thing Charles wanted was to make Y/N uncomfortable, and as for her, she simply didn’t want to blow things out of proportion—see something where there was nothing. For all she knew, Charles was like that with all his friends.

A few moments passed, filled with surrounding chatter, before they both spoke up at the same time.

“Do you want to go—"

“So, do you have any other—"

Laughter erupted between them before Y/N smirked, “Because I’m a lady, you first.”

“How kind of you,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Are you free next week? We could maybe grab lunch or something.” Before she could respond, he added, scratching his neck, “I would offer to cook, but unfortunately, cooking skills don’t get genetically passed down.”

Ignoring the beat Y/N was sure her heart had just skipped, she simply smiled and leaned forward, chin propped on her hand. “You mean a date?”

“Only if that’s what you want.”

Her rapid nods confirmed everything before her words even formed. However, just as Charles’ lips broke into a broad grin, Y/N’s expression suddenly fell as she remembered, “Wait, no, I can’t. I’m travelling to Spain tomorrow to visit my dad. And then after that, I’ll start my internship in New York City.”

Charles sank back into his chair, though his face didn’t betray the disappointment he felt. “I see,” he sighed.

“Rain check?” Y/N asked. She wanted a date with him, to see if they’d hit it off on that level. The only problem was the timing, but she knew her feelings didn’t fade quickly. If they had to wait, then so be it. She was ready to do so. Laughing, Y/N added, “Seriously, I still want that date.”

“Rain check it is,” Charles nodded. “Congrats on the internship though, that’s amazing. Maybe I can come visit, and we’ll—”

The sudden clanking of glass interrupted him, causing both to turn their attention to the woman standing at the end of the long table.

Without breaking eye contact with the woman, Y/N leaned in closer to Charles, her lips accidentally grazing his as his gaze fleetingly dropped to her lips before he refocused on the woman, who had now dropped her glass onto the table.

Y/N whispered into his ear, to which Charles simply nodded, suppressing the sudden surge of desire coursing through his veins.

One day in 2021

Y/N walked through the Paddock with a sense of detachment, like a deer caught in headlights. The US Grand Prix had come to an end, and Max Verstappen had emerged as the victor. It wasn’t exactly what she had hoped for, but she didn’t feel any strong emotions about it. What occupied her thoughts, however, was the meeting spot she had arranged with Carlos.

Pausing in her step, she pulled out her phone, deciding to cut straight to the chase and call him directly. The phone rang for what seemed like an eternity until the sound was abruptly cut off by a long beep, indicating his automated voicemail.

“Not even personalised,” she scoffed, hanging up, tossing her phone into her bag, and continuing, resigned to the idea of either wandering aimlessly forever or eventually finding Carlos.

However, she didn’t get far before colliding with someone. She stumbled backward a bit before regaining her balance, and as she looked up, her eyes widened in recognition.

Charles stood opposite her, his expression shifting from shock to a warm smile, though his eyebrows remained slightly furrowed. “Hi,” he breathed, the warmth of his breath reaching and spreading across Y/N’s face. “You’re… here.”

Y/N’s gaze swept over his tousled hair, a few strands sticking to his forehead adorned with tiny beads of sweat, some trailing down the sides of his slightly flushed face. “You’re sweaty. Very sweaty,” she blurted out, immediately regretting her awkward observation. But it had been a year since their last exchange, so it was understandable that things felt a bit awkward between them.

A few chuckles escaped Charles, immediately bringing a smile to Y/N’s face. “Thanks, I didn’t notice."

She exhaled a laugh, and then Charles added, “Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.” Shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun with his hand, he squinted at her. “Can I ask though, was this meant to be a surprise or something?”

“Ah, Charles, you’ve met my friend, Y/N,” Carlos interrupted from behind as he came to a stop beside her.

Y/N smiled awkwardly. “Uhm... Carlos actually invited me, so that's why I'm here."

“You two know each other?” Charles inquired, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“My dad lives in Spain, remember?” Y/N reminded him, shrugging. “Our families are pretty close.”

“Right…” Charles nodded, though he couldn’t shake off the slight hint of disbelief in his voice. After all, he knew Carlos was dating someone already, so he wasn’t sure why he felt that way. And as for Y/N, she was free to do as she pleased. After all, that date they had talked about last year never even happened. They had no history, no reason for him to feel jealous.

But he did anyway.

Wanting to diffuse the sudden tension settling between the three of them, Y/N exclaimed, “But it’s good to see you again. And you did really well. Congrats on P4, seriously.”

Charles smiled, and for the first time today, it was genuine. He wasn’t entirely satisfied with P4; he had wanted a podium finish and had come close to it. But for some reason, if she was happy, so was he.

“Thanks—” His smile faltered when an arm snaked around his torso, his girlfriend Amélie taking her place beside him and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Without wasting a second, his gaze shifted to Y/N, just in time to catch the way her eyes widened before she swallowed, her expression now impassive.

Shock and confusion swirled through Y/N’s body. She hadn’t expected Charles to have a girlfriend, so when she felt her heart crack slightly, it made sense. But she wasn’t going to show it—at least, not purposely she wasn’t.

Charles furrowed his brows as he regarded the girl standing in front of him. A pang of guilt nagged at him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why: they were never anything more than friends. And judging by the way neither of them had kept up with one another, you could barely even call it that.

Maybe they were more like strangers with a couple of good memories and unfulfilled promises?

“You alright, mate?” asked Carlos, pulling Charles out of his reverie.

Clearing his throat, Charles replied, “Yeah, yeah... Uhm Amélie, this is Y/N, my… friend.” The word came out almost as a question, but he pressed on. “Y/N, meet Amélie, my girlfriend.”

Charles wasn’t sure what he expected, but Y/N’s cheerfulness was definitely not it. “Hey,” she smiled and waved.

Slowly, tensions began to dissipate as all four of them became engrossed in conversation—though in reality, it was more like three. Y/N found herself too preoccupied with the realisation that Charles had a girlfriend now. It was a simple fact, yet it carried a weight: it meant he hadn't spent the year turning down people left and right, like she had, in hopes of a maybe.

One day in 2022

"Y/N, thank God you’re here!" Amélie's voice echoed the moment Y/N stepped into the living room, causing her to freeze in her tracks. "Uh, hey?" she replied, her eyes scanning the partly decorated room before settling on Charles, who sent her a small wave.

She raised her brows and forced a smile, though it faltered quickly—she and Charles had grown apart. Truthfully, Y/N had contemplated not showing up today; faking an illness or something and making sure to stay at home for a few days—Monaco was too small to risk being accidentally spotted.

But she came.

She came because Charles called.

Two days ago, he had called her in the middle of the night, asking if she was planning to fake being sick to avoid seeing him. And he was right—exactly what Y/N had been contemplating. So, when her first phone call with Charles in two years challenged the very idea in her mind that they had grown apart, it confused her. After all, she was sure she was a blank page now, yet he still seemed to be able to read her.

Snapping out of her daze, Y/N watched as Amélie paced erratically, her brows furrowing with every step. "What's going on with her?" Y/N asked, turning to Charles for an explanation.

He chuckled, approaching her. "It's the cake," he explained. "Amélie ordered it, but now it needs to be picked up sooner than planned because they're closing earlier than usual for some reason. So, now we have a problem, obviously."

"Why don't you just go pick it up?" Y/N leaned into him, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes still fixed on Amélie, who was now engaged in a fervent phone call.

"Apparently, I'm too clumsy."

"You are."

Charles chuckled, but his laughter was cut short when Amélie suddenly gasped, her eyes darting between Y/N and him as she rushed towards them. “Okay, guys, everyone will be here soon. If I stay and finish all this off, you two can quickly go collect the cake. So, if one person drives and the other holds it really tightly, that should work, right?”

“Sounds good,” Y/N chimed in.

“I agree,” Charles added.

“Alright,” Amélie beckoned them out of the living room and towards the front door. “Go on.”

“I love you,” Amélie said, leaning in for a kiss. But as she moved closer, Charles instinctively turned his head, causing her lips to land on his cheek instead of his mouth. His gaze had shifted to Y/N, who stood in the front yard, seemingly fixated on the grass.

“Yeah... love you,” he muttered absentmindedly, his attention still captivated by the girl just a few feet away from him.

Normally, Charles had no issue displaying affection for his girlfriend in front of others, but Y/N made it difficult. Whenever she was around—whether at family gatherings, parties, or Grand Prix events—his eyes always seemed to gravitate towards her.

“Please, don’t take too long!” Amélie shouted as the door slammed shut.

Amidst the occasional chirping of birds, a palpable silence settled between them. Y/N stared into the distance, while Charles observed her from the corner of his eye, noticing subtle changes since their last encounter. Her hair, for instance, was slightly shorter—a minor detail, yet one he couldn't help but notice.

With a loud clap, Charles gestured towards his car, parked discreetly to the side. “That way.”

Following his lead, Y/N entered through the passenger seat. However, as the car sprang to life and its dashboard lights flickered on, Charles let out a frustrated groan.

“What's wrong?” Y/N inquired.

Charles shook his head for a moment, muttering, “I told him to fill up the gas…”

“Oh,” Y/N exhaled, resting her head against the soft leather headrest. “So, what now?”

Charles' eyes lit up with excitement as he sat up eagerly, turning to face her. "We've got some old bikes in the shed, so if you want to—"

"You want us to ride rusty old bikes, while carrying a cake?" Y/N interjected, her serious expression quickly giving way to laughter.

"...Yeah?"

Y/N narrowed her gaze, appraising Charles for a moment before rolling her eyes and pushing the door open. "This is so going to backfire. I can't believe I'm doing this."

Charles couldn't help but smile as he watched Y/N exit the car. He had a feeling she wouldn't turn this idea down, and he was glad he was right. It meant that despite the years, things hadn't changed too much between them. She was still the same Y/N he knew, and he hoped he was still the Charles she was willing to have a date with.

"Don't tell me I'm going to have to do this by myself now. You coming or what?" Her yell pierced through the car, prompting him to jump out and hurry towards the shed.

By the time he finally reached the shed, Y/N had already claimed a bike—and surprisingly, it was his. Charles used to guard that bike fiercely when he was younger, not allowing anyone, not even for a few minutes. But now, as he watched her mount it, he felt no trace of that possessiveness, not even a hint.

Perhaps it was because he had outgrown that childish behaviour, or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, he couldn't deny the genuine happiness that bubbled up within him at the sight.

Now, if it were Amélie riding his bike at that moment, he wasn't quite sure he would feel the same way.

“Race you to the bakery?” Y/N grinned mischievously.

A wide smile immediately spread across Charles' face. “Sure, once I get my hands on a bike.”

“No,” she retorted, already starting to pedal. “You snooze, you lose.”

Racing to grab Lorenzo’s bike, Charles jumped on it, yelling, “Cheater!”

When he finally caught up to her, Y/N was no longer riding her bike but pulling it alongside her, causing him to slow down beside her. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you riding?” One corner of his mouth curled upward as he fixed her with a knowing look, coming to a full stop. “Oh, did you finally realise that cheating isn’t the way to go?”

“Says you,” Y/N retorted, though her chuckles rang loud and clear as Charles fell into step with her.

“Anyway,” she pointed down at her bike, “the chain’s come loose. So yeah, I was right, this was a bad idea, and Amélie is going to kill us, and poor Pascale won’t have a birthday cake.”

“Wow, don’t be too optimistic now,” Charles teased, earning an elbow to his side. “We’re not too far from the bakery now, so I say let’s not worry until we get to the ‘how do we get back home in time’ part. What do you say?”

Y/N turned to Charles, her eyes lingering on his features longer than necessary. “Okay,” she finally nodded, “sounds like a plan.”

But her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. In the time she spent gazing at Charles, he had been doing the same, unwilling to move on from that moment quite as quickly as she had.

Stopping in his steps, Y/N continued a few more feet before finally noticing his hesitation and halting her movements, turning back. “Do you want Amélie to murder us?” she joked, but her humour faded when she saw Charles’ serious expression remain unchanged.

“Okay, what’s the matter—”

Charles cut her off with a sigh. “Why don’t we talk anymore, Y/N?”

“What do you mean? We’re talking right now.”

“Come on, seriously,” Charles walked up beside her.

Y/N just shrugged, her mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara desert. “I don’t know…”

“Well, I don't either, so can we please just start over then?” Charles proposed, his tone tired of the tension and the walking on eggshells. It was too much when all he wanted was to be close to her, to laugh like they used to before everything went haywire.

Y/N looked off to the side, musing over his words for a moment, before meeting his gaze again with a small smile. “Okay, fine, I guess.”

“Wow, you seem really excited,” Charles remarked, flashing a wide grin.

“I really do, don't I? Now, if you don’t mind,” Y/N started walking again, “I really do not feel like being killed today, so let’s fucking go.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.”

2:31 ──────ㅇ────── 4:45

[allywthsr]

MAKING ORNAMENTS | (l.norris)

summary: you and your kids make ornaments, lando is a supportive dad

wordcount: 1.2k words

pairing: dad!landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: kids

notes: I want Lando to take care of my kids 🥺

advent calendar

You sat with Lando and your two kids, Louis and Sofia around the table, craft items in front of you. Louis was three years and little Sofia was just half a year old, she currently lay in Lando’s arms, while he was feeding her. She latched just fine at the beginning, but two weeks ago she started to refuse your breasts and only wanted to be fed by the bottle, it wasn’t your ideal breastfeeding ending, but if she felt more comfortable with the bottle, you weren’t one to deny her that.

Lando stared down at her with a big smile, still in a dream that she was here and he was able to protect her, his little princess. Not that he wasn’t protective over Louis, but he was a little boy, he was headstrong and already stood up for himself. Sofias' hand was wrapped around Lando’s thumb and he left kisses every now and then on her forehead, smelling that baby smell each time, she smiled up at him, clearly happy that he was feeding her.

But back why you were sitting around the table with the family, you wanted to make Christmas ornaments and presents. You found some cute stuff online and wanted to try it out with your kids.

The one you liked the most was an ornament diy, you needed to take a bit of clay and form it into a flat round shape and press the kids‘ hand in the clay, afterwards, you needed to make a little hole at the top, where you could later put a thread through and hang it on the Christmas tree. So you got to work, rolling around the clay with your hand to warm it up a little. You pressed it on the table, that you covered with cling film, so it wouldn’t get dirty, and tried to flatten it, while keeping the round shape.

Louis wasn’t as happy with the idea of having to do crafts, he liked to play with his toy cars or stack his Lego Duplo on top of each other, the only crafty thing he liked was Play-Doh, it was rare that he wanted to draw.

When the clay was flattened enough and you made two of them, you ushered Louis to come to you, he climbed down his kiddy chair and you lifted him on your lap, ”Louis, do you want to press your hand in the clay? We then have your handprint on it.“

He looked at you with big eyes, ”Mama, why?“

Lando chuckled while Sofia was almost finished with her bottle.

”We then can hang it on our tree, as an ornament.“

”Why?“

By now Lando was laughing, Louis had his questioning phase at the moment, everything was questioned and he had to know the answer.

”Because it’s pretty and a good memory.“

He nodded and held out his hand to you, you gently grabbed his arm and pressed his hand into the clay, with your other hand you pressed his fingers more into the clay, making sure his handprint was fully on there.

Lifting his hand, you gasped at the handprint, it was perfect, ”Look, Louis! Your handprint, what do you think?“

”It’s pretty mummy, daddy, look!“

Lando got up with the empty bottle and Sofia and came around, so he was able to look at the handprint.

”Louis, you did so good! It’s beautiful.“

He brought the bottle to the kitchen and turned Sofia around so he could burp her, he came back and caressed Louis‘ head.

”Louis, do we want to do that again? It’s for Nana and Papa, so they have one as well for their tree.“

He nodded and held his already dirty hand to you again. You repeated the step you did a few seconds ago, and when he lifted his hand, the three of you gasped.

”Mummy! My hand.“

”Pretty, isn’t it? Should we go and wash your hands?“

Louis nodded and you lifted him off your lap and sat him on the floor where he started to run to the bathroom. Quickly you left a kiss on your daughter's cheek and went after your son, to help him wash his hands. Once his hands were clean and you returned to the table with Louis, Lando, and Sofia waiting for you two, Sofia was burped and ready for her turn, not that she knew what was happening soon.

”Look, Louis, I will make a hole in the clay and once it’s dry, we can hang it on our Christmas tree. Do you want to watch your sister do the same?“

He excitedly nodded and sat on his kiddy chair again, playing with a few cars while you made the holes in the clay. Sofia was getting fuzzy, Lando tried to calm her by bouncing her up and down, but she was not having it.

”Daddy, do you want me to talk to Sof?“

He was so mature for his age and already the best big brother ever, he knew when Sofia was fuzzy, not a lot helped, she mostly wanted to be held and played with. Lando nodded and lowered Sofia, so Louis was able to look at her while standing up.

”Sof, you can stop crying, it’s not scary, and when it’s finished we have a pretty-looking ornament, you don’t need to cry.“

You teared up at what Louis was saying, he was truly the best big brother ever, protecting his sister at all costs and trying to cheer her up. He kissed her cheek and Lando gave Sofia to you, so you could get over with the clay part pretty quickly. While Louis was calming her down, you already made two round shapes, the only thing that was missing was her handprint.

You positioned her so that you could press her hand in the clay, Lando helped you with gently adding pressure on her hand to get her handprint on there. When you lifted her hand, and the print was beautiful, you immediately pressed her hand against the other clay, Lando repeating the same as he did with the other one.

Louis squealed when he saw her handprints and Lando took her to the bathroom, where he cleaned Sofia's hands.

You moved the clays to a safe spot where they could dry, and Louis couldn’t reach them.

”Mummy, when’s daddy coming back? I want to play with him.“

”Soon baby, he’s putting Sof down for a nap, did you like crafting? We can do it every year and see your hands grow!“

”Yes, mummy, but I can go play now?“

You chuckled and nodded, when Lando came back and kissed your cheek, you told him that Louis was waiting for him in the living room.

”I love you, and our kids so much.“

[amazzwon]

MY GO-TO SEVENTEEN FICS

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[totalswag]

Can you write that Drew x actress!reader are at home with their first baby boy while relaxing and suddenly, a huge surprise that they didn't expect so soon, especially Drew, as a Christmas present

Inspired by this 😊: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C03sQNHIjf3/?igsh=MWF0cno2M2tubjZ3Ng==

first words — DREW STARKEY

authors note this is such a cute request! i’ve seen these videos and they are so freaking adorable. thank you for the request <3

summary drew and you have been trying for your son to say his first words. one day he blurts out his first word making your christmas better

warnings wholesome content

Christmas is right around the corner.

First Christmas with your seven month old son, Noah. First Christmas as a family of three.

Drew and you finally have a month off from filming to be with family. The both of you have had busy schedules these past few months with filming and to get this break is wonderful.

Noah, your eight-month-old, will shortly say his first word. There have been times when he almost uttered something but ended up babbling baby gibberish.

mama or dada

One of the two words Drew and you are aiming for.

Yes, you and Drew have been teaching Noah simple words that he can readily speak. You two are constantly talking to him and reading to him in the hopes that he would say one of the words.

Every parent wants their child’s first words to be mama or dada.

The three of you were in the living room on the couch with the tv playing a Christmas movie. The Christmas tree was a couple feet away from the tv, making the moment feel more magical.

Noah was lying on his stomach on Drew’s chest— arms folding in front of him, holding himself up to look at Drew who was talking to him and making faces.

The father and son duo with these two is the most beautiful thing ever to witness. Their bond continues to grow by the second. Now Drew and you are back on filming for Outer Banks, it’s hard being away from Noah.

"Oh really and what else?" Drew inquired, and Noah responded dramatically in his baby language.

Noah stares between you two, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open, before becoming even louder.

In the mix of Noah talking in his baby gibberish, he says the word dada, catching Drew and you off guard immediately.

Your hand slaps over your mouth with shock. Tears form in your eyes. As a parent hearing your child’s first words is one of the greatest moments.

You immediately take your phone out to record this unforgettable moment.

Drew looks at you, shocked, emotional, and a smile beginning to grow on his face.

“Can you repeat that again?” Drew whispers to the eight month old, hoping he repeats the word you two just heard.

The sounds of your little sniffles can be heard from behind your phone.

Noah turns his head to the side, blinking a few times, trying to figure out what his father told him then opens his mouth to speak.

Noah moves his upper body around “dada dada” he blurts out, putting his small hands into a fist, punching Drew’s chest.

“Ahaha yes!” Drew cheer, wrapping both arms around Noah as he slides to the left landing on a soft pillow.

Noah let out a couple giggles, leaning his head on Drew’s chin as they swayed side to side. Drew gave him kisses all over his face as he shed a few tears.

Drew had the most biggest smile on his face. Hearing the words dada come out of his first borns mouth really does something because he’s always going to remember Noah’s first words.

“This is one of the best Christmas present I’ve ever received and Christmas is only in two weeks” Drew blurts out, whipping away the tears.

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[gravehags]

satan baby

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: yule with the papas, secondo and terzo fighting over caroling, gift giving, and maybe...kissing

Words: 1,877

Summary: It's the most wonderful time of the year.

a/n: it's been a while my children. eat up and merry christmas to those who celebrate. a little present from me to you.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“This is Secret Santa, you’re only supposed to get a gift for one person,” you sigh, currently inundated with a pile of presents on your lap and by your feet. “What’s all this?”

“Correction, bella, this is Secret Satan where you get as many gifts for whomever you like, sì? And you’re our star this year.”

Terzo smiles warmly at you as you fidget with the fabric of your festive dark green velvet skirt. You’ve all gathered in the Papas’ private living room, the mantle of the roaring fireplace positively bedecked with greenery and a massive tree opposite. A couple weeks ago you and Copia were put in charge of creating the orange garland, a not insignificant task given the height and breadth of the noble fir. Speaking of Copia, he is sitting in a deep leather armchair, stroking his mustache thoughtfully and giving you a funny look. When you give him an exaggerated wink his lips curl into a smile and his eyes dart away as his cheeks flush.

“Another cup, signorina?”

Primo is currently standing next to the hot plate on the side table, stirring the large cauldron of mulled wine. You really shouldn’t, you already are feeling a little woozy and warm but what the hell. Christmas, right? Or Yule, rather. You nod eagerly and Primo doles out a hefty amount of the dark liquid into a mug with little rats on it, passing it to Secondo who passes it to you as Terzo hands you yet another gift to open. So far you’ve unwrapped a beautiful homemade perfume from Primo and a garnet jewelry set which you are sure is quite old and quite expensive from Terzo. Copia still clings to the small present on his lap that bears a tag with your name on it, unwilling to see it in your hands just yet. One of these presents alone would be more than enough to dazzle you but the Papas insist on spoiling you. Who are you to object?

“This one is from me,” Secondo says, smiling slightly sinisterly over the rim of his mug.

“Ominous, but okay,” you say as you unwrap the box with caution. When you gingerly open the lid and see what’s inside, you let out an undignified screech. Primo, Terzo, and Copia exchange alarmed expressions as you reach in and lift the stuffed creature from its confines to marvel at it. It’s positively hideous - a large round potato-like head, red vestments, even a glittering pectoral grucifix. You’re beaming.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Copia says, outraged and red-faced.

“He’s perfect,” you coo, holding him against you in a tight hug. “Look at his stupid little face!”

“Ah, sì, he looks just like you,” Terzo says with a grin.

“He–it–looks nothing like me. No mustache. No sideburns. Eyes are all wrong!”

“He’s beautiful,” you say, cradling the monstrosity in your arms with all the grace of Mary. “Thank you Secondo.”

“I made him myself, you know.”

“A man of many talents!”

“A man of many war crimes,” Copia growls from his spot, flinging himself backwards in his chair and crossing his arms.

“Don’t speak about our son that way!” you cry, pressing your palms to the ears of the small stuffed man.

“Our son?” Copia cocks his head with interest and the brothers all look at you in silence.

“Y-yes. He looks - mostly - like you and I am his mother. Therefore we are his parents. So step up.”

When you reach out to hand the stuffed cardinal to the real thing, he sighs and takes it in his hands. 

“He is infernal,” Copia says, placing him sitting up on his lap. “But I accept him as mine.” The sight makes you scramble for your phone to take as many pictures as possible.

“What a beautiful family moment,” Terzo says, wiping a fake tear from his cheek. “Copia, I think you’re the only one left who hasn’t exchanged presents!”

Handing the doll back to you he hesitates to reach for the gift still in his lap. Primo, ever wise, interrupts to ask if anyone wants dessert while you reach down and grab the present you’ve brought for Copia. Terzo and Secondo haul themselves up with much grumbling and follow Primo out of the room to help.

“I thought you said you were only bringing a present for one person? Primo was who you drew, sì?”

“Yeah I know but,” you scoot your chair closer to him, “you’re special. You’ve been on my side since day one. I couldn’t not get you something. You mean too much to me.”

Copia blushes the fiercest shade of red you’ve seen yet as you hand him the heavy package.

“Grazie, cara mia,” he says quietly, mismatched eyes boring earnestly into yours.

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t opened it.”

With a smile he begins unwrapping the festive paper. When he finishes and sees what is inside his heart jumps.

“Dolcezza,” he breathes and you blush just as fiercely as him at the nickname, “this is wonderful.”

It had taken you a lot of time and a lot of money (worth every cent as far as you are concerned) to locate an antique facsimile of William Blake’s art. Admittedly, you had used a lot of the Ministry’s excellent resources to find it but all the effort was worth it for this moment. When Copia looks up at you, you swear there are tears in his eyes.

“I have never before received a gift such as this, cara. Thank you.”

When you reach out and cover his gloved hand with yours and squeeze firmly, it’s as if his whole body sinks into itself. Softly, he picks up your hand and brings it to his lips - a sweet echo of his action from the first day you met. It takes everything within you not to knock all the items out of Copia’s lap and climb in it yourself. In all honesty, you’re moments away from doing just that when the Papas return to the room with much clamor. Your heart sinks as Copia drops your hand and clears his throat, and you return to your chair from your half-risen position. When Copia looks at you and points to the small box next to him, you mouth the words “later” with a smile before accepting a comically large slice of yule log from Secondo. The rest of the evening is relatively quiet apart from the dueling rendition of “Carol of the Bells” that Secondo and Terzo fight over while Primo sleeps contentedly in his comfy armchair. When the Papas begin loudly arguing in Italian you signal to Copia and begin gathering your things in a large brown bag. Without a word the two of you slip out the door and when you hear a crash and Primo’s deep bellow ringing out you skitter away down the hall.

“Looks like we made it out just in time,” you giggle as the two of you finally slow.

“Eh, sì, it always ends like this,” Copia says with a huff and an eye roll, “they can’t help themselves.”

Copia is unaware of where he is standing but oh, you certainly are. This looks like a perfect place to stop.

“Not trying to be pushy but I think you were going to give me something?” you say, cocking your head and setting down your bag. 

“Ah…yes,” he sets down the book you gifted him and thrusts out his hand with the fastidiously wrapped present within it. “For you.”

You take the gift and open it delicately and slowly and see him chew on his bottom lip slightly. 

“If you don’t like it I–”

“Hush,” you say simply as you open the box. Inside, resting on dark red velvet is a simple and small golden grucifix on a delicate matching chain.

“You always wanted to be a part of the Ministry,” he says quietly, fussing with his gloves, “and I hope this lets you know that we accept you. We’ve always accepted you. I–”

You remain silent as you set down the box and put the necklace on while Copia watches. When you finish your hands don’t return to your sides but rather come up to cradle the Cardinal’s cheeks. He’s frozen as you stand just like this, thumbs brushing against his sideburns and a look on your face that he doesn’t think he has the capacity to describe. Your cheeks positively glow, your eyes seem lit from within and your lips are curled into a soft smile. They part momentarily for you to take a deep, steadying breath - inhale, exhale - before you lean forwards and gently place your lips on his. The ground shifts beneath him, the world is spinning as the fingers of your right hand begin to slide along his jaw and you tilt your head. You hesitate only for a moment, pulling back slightly before Copia grabs you insistently by the back of the head and pushes his lips back against yours. He tastes of mulling spices and his mustache tickles your upper lip, as you always knew it would. When you finally need to catch your breath he barely relinquishes his grip on you, making you laugh and kiss his chin.

“Why,” he whispers, thumb running against your cheekbone. “Why me?”

You lean forward and rest your head against his chest, close enough to hear the thud of his heart.

“It was always you,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist and stroking his back. “Always. From the moment you kissed my hand the day I was hired to the moment you comforted me when I was sad and lonely. From the moment you shared your rats with me. From the moment you put me to bed when I was drunk. All of it, Copia. All of you. That’s why.”

When you pull back to look at him, there’s definitely no mistaking the tears in his eyes this time and when he frantically pulls you in for another kiss, you can feel the wetness on your own cheeks. When you pull away with a giggle he looks concerned.

“Amore mio, what is it?”

You point upwards to the healthy sprig of mistletoe hanging from the rafter.

“You had no idea did you,” you say with a grin, chin resting on his sternum.

“Who would? Who could even see that and in the dark I–” his words cut off as you gasp from the short sharp smack to your ass.

“Copia! Not in front of our child!” you chastise, reaching into the bag and pulling out the accursed doll.

“Ugh, I had forgotten about him,” Copia grouses as you take it and peck him on the cheek with it.

“What should we name him?” you muse, adjusting the doll’s pellegrina.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something suitably horrific,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead which you lean into eagerly. “Until then…shall I, eh, walk you back to your rooms?”

“Please,” and with one last long, lingering kiss with the odd cardinal doll squished between the two of you, you pick up your bag and continue the long walk back to your cozy bed with the Satanic cardinal you hoped would soon be in it.

[foolforharrry]

So Good

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Harry and y/n's lazy Christmas morning where they're disgustingly in love

Warnings: There is a little smut in here

I hope you all have had an amazing holiday!! And that you enjoy this lil oneshot.

If you wanna check out more of my writings, my masterlist is here

Christmas has never been y/n’s favourite holiday. In fact, it’s been her least favourite holiday.

Growing up, she would hear her classmates talk about how their Christmas had been magical. Filled with love and laughter. Presents and someone dressing up as Santa Claus.

Even as they got older and realised that Santa wasn’t real, the magic of Christmas had then gone from a mysterious man delivering them presents in the dark of night to the love and laughter of all their loved ones gathered in one place.

Y/n didn’t understand why everyone else got so lucky when her holiday was filled with screaming and yelling at the top of her family’s lungs. Glasses and plates smashed against the walls. There was never a tree that they’d decorate together. Never any pretty lights hung up around the house.

The only thing that separated Christmas time in her family’s house from the rest of the year was that the fighting got worse from the alcohol the adults would consume to get through.

When y/n had opened up to Harry about why she doesn’t like the holiday that he adores so much he had vowed to do his absolute best to replace all the bad memories with happy ones.

And waking up slowly cuddled in bed with her boyfriend on Christmas morning is yet another happy memory y/n knows she’s going to cherish as she reflects on the day and evening before, face nuzzled into Harry’s warm chest.

They had spent the whole day at Anne’s. Anne has grown very fond of y/n in the almost three years she’s been with her son. So when she heard that she would finally be joining them to celebrate Christmas Eve, Anne had been over the moon with joy and hugged the girl as long as she let her when y/n and Harry had knocked on her door just before 12 o’clock.

Christmas Eve had been laughter and board games. Exchanging gifts and the small talk that louder as the day bled into the night and everyone was buzzing with the wine that was served.

It was the polar opposite of any Christmas Eve y/n had ever had in her life.

Y/n had tried to find a moment to thank Anne for opening her home to her, but every time she’d tried, Anne had waved her off saying that “My door is always open for family, dear.”

Right now, y/n feels at peace. As if she and Harry are in their own little, impenetrable bubble that she doesn’t ever want to leave. Feeling his chest rise and fall with every sleeping breath of air going in and out of his lungs as she traces the art inked into his skin exposed to the warm sunlight filtering in through the curtains.

It’s a type of serenity that she used to dream of having.

His skin has paled significantly from the Italian tan he had gotten over their long vacation in the summer, but still held a golden hue left to it.

The change in his breathing pattern is what alerts her that Harry is slowly waking up after however long she’s been in her own little world. Then a shift in his fingers splayed over the curve of her waist as she feels the vibrations in his chest before she hears his groggy morning voice rasp, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

The voice of the person she loves most in this world has a wide smile immediately forming on y/n’s face as she shifts her body so she’s laying on her stomach with her left cheek pillowed on Harry’s chest so she can look admire the beauty of a human being she’s sharing her bed with.

“Morning handsome.” Y/n smiles tiredly at him, humming in satisfaction when Harry starts drawing soft circles on the small of her back.

Harry had been planning on waking up at the ass crack of dawn today so that he could make her favourite breakfast, French toast and berries, and hot chocolate. Wake her up with loving kisses and one of her presents as they ate their meal cuddled in bed with Grey’s Anatomy, their favourite show at the time.

But when he had come to consciousness to the heavenly feeling of y/n nuzzled against his side, soft caressing touches where he knows his tattoos are, he couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed that his plan hadn’t worked out.

Both their faces are puffy from a night’s sleep and a soft blush is spread across their cheeks from the warmth of each other’s bodies.

Without saying a word, Harry pouts his pink lips for a kiss, expectant eyes watching hers as y/n connects the dots. Y/n is happy to oblige, shifting so she is lazily straddling his waist. Hands cupping his face tenderly as she connects their lips.

Harry hums into the kiss, squeezing her sides lovingly as he sits up fully, y/n’s butt now planted firmly on his lap.

Y/n pulls away momentarily, giggling at the disgruntled downturn of his lips when Harry realises that she’s no longer kissing him. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because.”, y/n pushes him back just enough to look him in the eye when Harry dips down to kiss her again. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

He nods for her to continue.

“Did you have a good dream or are you just happy to see me?”

A coy smirk takes over the frown that was etched on Harry’s face at her question, dropping his hands to her hips. “Always happy to see my girl.”

Satisfied with her answer, y/n picks up where they left off. Almost.

There’s more intent in the way Harry swipes his tongue over her bottom lip for access and the quick pull y/n gives the curls at the back of Harry’s neck.

It quickly turns more heated. Roaming hands and a small whimper from y/n when Harry guides her hips to grind down on him, the only thing separating them being the thin cotton of their underwear.

“I need you.”, Harry breathes against her lips, his body hot all over and pupils blown from the lust rushing through his system.

Y/n can feel how hard he is and it’s only making her more aroused as she nods, going to kiss him again.

But he stops her, waiting until she is looking at him with a pout on her lips before he speaks, “Words, baby.”

“I need you too. Please.”

With that Harry rolls her off him so he’s hovering over her, y/n on her back with her head on the soft pillows, not wasting a second to pull Harry’s face down to hers, needing to taste him as she tangles her fingers in his messy curls.

After kissing like that for a bit longer, Harry moves on from her mouth and starts trailing kisses down her neck, relishing in the small whimpers and shaky breaths he pulls out from her when he leaves love bites at the spots he knows she’s extra sensitive.

He keeps sucking and licking her skin until she’s squirming and begging him to give her more.

Who is he to deny her that?

Helping her to sit up just enough, he is quick to pull her t-shirt over her head, chucking it to the side without a care about where it lands. His breath gets caught in his throat when his eyes land on her.

Almost completely naked and all his. Her breasts full and the soft rolls of her stomach he would worship every second of the day if she let him. The small, white scar just below her left collarbone. Faded enough that the only reason he knows where it is, is all the hours he’s spent admiring her.

If it had been any other person just looking at her as intensely as Harry does, y/n would’ve tried covering herself up. And at the beginning of their relationship, she had. Until she realised that there wasn’t one hint of judgement or ill-intended thought behind those green eyes she loves so much. It was pure love and adoration.

“Beautiful.”, Harry whispers. Low enough to make y/n wonder if he even meant for her to hear it.

Not that she gets a long time to when he starts kissing down the length of her torso, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses in his wake that has a shiver going down her spine. He hooks his fingers underneath the band of her panties before he drags them down her legs and throws them in a similar manner to the shirt.

Harry lays down on his stomach between her legs as he kisses the inside of her thighs teasingly, knowing that the attention to the soft, flesh would make her even more impatient than she already is.

“Stop teasing.”, y/n whines, not caring how desperate she sounds. Or about the smug curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry darling. I’ll take care of you.”

And with that he puts y/n out of her misery, attaching his mouth to her pussy and eating her out in the way he knows will have her back arching.

Harry can’t lie and say that the fact that y/n was wet to the point where he could see the arousal leaking from her vagina without having even touched her, wasn’t a very nice stroke to his ego.

The attention to her clit already has y/n squirming, Harry’s arms wrapping around the thick of her thighs to keep her still as he hums at her taste. The vibrations intensify everything she’s already feeling, not able to keep the moans from falling anymore. And Harry definitely doesn’t mind.

All his senses are taken over by her. The taste, smell and feel of her is all there is and he would happily drown in it all.

Dizzy with pleasure, y/n’s eyelids fall heavy as she feels herself getting closer and closer to her high, vice-like grip on Harry’s hair to keep herself from flying into outer space.

Harry notices all the tell-tale signs. Her muscles tensed. Breath shallowing. Thighs squeezing the sides of his head like she’s afraid he’ll stop. That’s the last thing he wants to do. And he gets exactly what they both want.

Her high racks through her body, her whole body locking up as she comes, Harry helping her through it as she slowly but surely sinks into the mattress. Her chest still rises and falls rapidly, a shine of sweat covering her flushed skin as Harry detaches himself from her centre, pressing loving, delicate kisses along the skin. Murmured whispers of praise fill the silence as he works his way up her body.

“How’d I do?”, Harry asks her, nudging his nose against hers, a wide smile breaking out on his face when his favourite colour comes into view.

Y/n smiles lazily back at him, “So good, my love.”

Being the sucker for praise he is, Harry’s smile gets impossibly wider when she continues; “Always treat me so well. Don’t know what I’d do without my sunshine. I love you so much.” Her eyes are hazy and voice dreamy as she speaks, her head still in the clouds.

“You sure you don’t just love my tongue?”, he teases, unable to help himself.

Y/n rolls her eyes at him, pushing him off her body in fake offence, teeth digging into her bottom lip to keep from smiling too hard. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Only for you.”, Harry quips with a kiss to her bare shoulder, relishing in the new blush coating her cheeks.

He’ll never get sick of making his girl blush.

He’s about to say something else when her smile drops, a look of guilt rises in its wake. Confusion replacing Harry’s. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“You didn’t finish.”, she states, that look still there.

Relief has Harry letting out a laugh that it wasn’t anything serious. Y/n doesn’t understand why he’s laughing though. No matter how many times Harry has assured her that he’s always ok and that he just loves pleasing the woman he loves, she always wants him to feel good too.

Her question about what’s so funny to him is quickly answered when his laughter dies down and he looks at her sheepishly. “I did finish.” Cheeks red as a tomato at the confession that fell from his lips.

Stunned to silence, her eyes dart from his face to his crotch. When it fully dawns on her what he’s saying and she’s seeing, y/n can’t help the giggles bubbling in her stomach. The giggles quickly escalated to full-out cackling that earns her a playful shove when she can’t stop.

The sweet sound of her loud, bright laughter makes it extremely difficult for Harry to even be embarrassed about it anymore. It instead has him joining her. He knows it’s never ill-intended.

Once they’ve calmed down, y/n makes sure she understood him right, “You really just came in your pants eating me out?”

“Like a fucking teenager.”, Harry nods before he’s pulling her body back to his, missing the feeling of her skin on his. Y/n happily obliges, tangling her legs with his again.

They fall back into a comfortable silence as they enjoy the other’s presence and warmth for a few minutes. No words were exchanged. Just affectionate touches and hearts full and content, beating to the same rhythm.

They might not be perfect. But for each other, they’re just right.

Rain doesn’t exist without the sun. The tide wouldn’t be without the magnetic forces from the moon. The ocean wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be so lively and free. So rich with life.

It might have been perfect without the chaos. But it would never have been so beautiful.

At least that’s the conclusion y/n makes wrapped up in the comfort of Harry’s embrace. Harry is her sun, her moon. He’s her calm and her storm. He’s her shelter and her sunshine. He’s everything she’s ever wanted and more than she thinks she deserves.

Harry feels the exact same way about her. Never has he ever met someone who can keep her warmth and light through her darkest days without letting them go dim and cold. In the fog, she’s his lighthouse. Always there to guide him back to safety. Home.

Before her, his world was grey and dull. Then she came along and brought all the colour and life he didn’t even know existed with her.

The love they have for each other is one that’s so painfully obvious they couldn’t even hide it if they tried.

It’s Harry who breaks the silence, a light tap on her hip to get her attention, “Wanna go get cleaned up, love?”

Without moving a muscle, she hums her agreement. “Not comfortable to lay here with your underwear soaked in cum, is it?”

“Shut up.”, Harry whines, pinching the chub of her waist, making her jolt and laugh. “Couldn’t help it. Not when you looked and sounded so incredibly sexy.” The words are spoken in a tone that has a shiver running down y/n’s spine.

Before they get too occupied again, y/n reluctantly rolls off Harry. But not before giving Harry a quick peck on the lips.

She’ll never get tired of his lips.

Harry is quick to trail after her, smiling fondly when she nearly trips over her own two feet on their journey to their shared bathroom.

While they stand under the warm stream of water together, Harry’s shower playlist echoing off the tiled walls, y/n decides that if this is how Christmas morning is going to be from now on, there’s a possibility that Christmas could become a holiday she enjoys. And it would all be thanks to him.

And she tells him just that, looking into the sea of green she loves so much as the water cascades around them. The comforting scent of the shampoo she’s used since she was a teenager. Only it didn’t make her feel any type of way until Harry started using hers, saying that it makes his hair feel soft. So now the fresh smell of coconut belongs to him.

Harry turns her around so he can lather conditioner through her hair, giving the top of her head a kiss that had y/n’s tummy swarming with butterflies. “You know.”, he starts. “I’ve always been a sucker for the holidays. But you’ve made this one a hundred times better than I thought it could ever be.”

Y/n turns back around with a bashful pull to her lips, “Ditto.” 

-

If you guys want me to write the rest of their Christmas day, please let me know.

[growup-thatbeautiful]

always an angel (never a god)

Tags: mentions of childhood abuse, language, childhood best friends, weddings, angst

There was a time when you’d painted Jake’s fingernails. “For practice,” you explained, picking out the perfect blue to match his eyes. “So I can do my own next.” You had been sitting in his backyard, a ziplock bag of colors in between you. The grass was soft and green and dewey, just at the end of summer, and the air was ripe with the smell of the peach tree you sat under. The t-shirt you wore was probably his- even then you ended up stealing half of his clothes during last-minute sleepovers and spontaneous swims in his pool. 

Of course, he’d agreed- he always did. If anyone asked him- a football teammate or a nosy teacher- he would tell them to fuck off. Everyone knew that meant it had to do with you. He would take shit about anything except for you, they learned. 

But his dad came home early from his business trip. Jake didn’t have time to take the polish off before George Seresin saw his son’s blue nails. He didn’t care much that they matched Jake’s eyes. They ended up matching the bruises hidden across his ribs; the bruises you tended to when he snuck through your window later that night. He didn’t need to go through the window anymore, your mom knew about his “troubles at home” and he was welcome anytime, but it kept up the childlike appearance. 

He had been 13, at the time. Apparently, the nails were too much, because George stopped coming home after that. No one in the town said anything about it, and the Seresins went on like nothing changed. You knew Jake’s mom, Dolly, well enough to know that she wouldn’t tolerate anyone talking about her children, so no one ever did. You were probably the only one who ever saw Jake cry about it; it only happened once when he was the only player on his baseball team not to have a father to throw with. Dolly had searched for hours the night before to find George’s old glove, but it was nowhere to be seen. 

Jake’s older sisters, Violet and Jenny, painted your nails from that point on. You never asked Jake to do it again, and he never brought it up. You were young enough to think that it really had been the nail polish to made George leave, and Jake believed whatever you did. It would be years until you realized that it probably had more to do with the fact that George never loved Dolly, hated his children, and wanted nothing more than to drink himself sober. 

“Angel,” Jake used to call you. Because he’s always thought you’re the most beautiful person. Because it’s what Anakin called Padame, and you had loved Star Wars. Because what else was there to call an angel? When did he stop calling you angel? It couldn’t have been that long ago, right? When did you lose him for the last time? 

When he left for boot camp, you were a senior in high school. It had been unbearable. You wrote him letters sprayed with the perfume he gave you for your sixteenth birthday. It smelled like clean laundry and green grass. You thought it smelled like home. Years later, he would tell you that it did, in fact, smell like home when he was thousands of miles away from you. 

Blue eyes and sandy hair. Dirt underneath his nails and calloused hands. Electric blue skies shifting into a watercolor of purple and pink through gingham curtains at his kitchen window. Mud mixed with twigs to make witches' brew and Christmas sweaters you pretended to hate. That’s how you’ve always know him. When he came back from basic, he was the same, just different. His hair was shorter, cropped close to his head. He’s lost some weight, and the football muscle becoming leaner. Of course, he would grow the muscle back later on; he could never stand not being able to pick you up and spin you around like he did after all those football games. Ironically, his accent grew with time apart. So did his ego, but you expected that. 

The first girl he brought home was the sweetest one. Short black hair and grey eyes, like a thunderstorm. She left after one week with his family, leaving behind a heartbroken Jake. You were the one to help him through it, drinking a bottle of vodka underneath the stars on a wooden fence with barbed wire cutting Xs through the sky. Jake didn’t cry about girls, but she’d messed him up pretty badly. Bad enough for him to be honest with his sisters. Bad enough for Dolly to call your mom and have her send you over with a tray of cookies that Jake never told you he hated. Violet was kind enough to make you her hangover cure the next morning after you woke up with red eyes and a dry mouth in Jake’s bed. Nothing happened, naturally, but you never could convince Violet that. Whenever Jake was upset, it was a family affair. 

The next girls he brought home passed in a blur. As he got older, they got worse and worse. Fake, rich, and bratty. He said he loved them and they would be enchanted by his stories about flying a plane. They didn’t stick around long enough to hear about the parts of him that hurt, though. Not like you did. Maybe that’s why he can’t look at you the way he looks at them. They see the stained glass, you see the breakage it took to make it. 

You never thought it would end like this. 

An engagement ring. Shining in a Tiffany blue box, casting a kaleidoscope of color across the kitchen. A wedding veil, long and draped and crusted with diamonds at the end. White heels with tulle bows on the back. A backyard, down-to-earth wedding, despite the possibility for more. An always-present local violinist rehearsing old country love songs on the porch, a sweating pitcher of iced tea on the table beside him. 

All for her and Jake. 

Dolly’s house is buzzing with energy. Her family and his family all coming together in a chaotic mess of introductions and “how can I help?”s and “I’m good with whatever”s. Jake’s fiancé is the perfect future wife with a steady job and the desire for a big family. From the few times you’ve met her, she seems lovely, and Jake is completely enamored with her. For the first time, you see hearts in his eyes. 

You’re just here to drop off some food- it’s supposed to be family tonight. Dolly invited you, and Jennifer begged you to stay, but they both knew that it was pointless. It’s utterly selfish of you, but you can’t get over the fact that he’s getting married. A cruel part of you tells yourself that you never even tried to get his attention.

You’re meant to be in and out, but you can never say no when Dolly asks for help. You should’ve known she would have an alternative motive when she asked you to get flowers from the back of the barn- it’s been a dead patch for years. 

The sunlight peeks through the stubborn clouds, and his hair moves golden with the wind. He isn’t facing you, but he doesn’t need to for you to be able to recognize the broad expanse of his shoulders or the hanging posture of his head from the way he leans forward over the rotting wooden fence. 

If you were smarter, you would turn tail and run away. Save yourself a night of crying. But you aren’t, and, about him, you never have been. 

He doesn’t look up when he speaks before you get the chance to. “Were you planning on lookin’ or actually coming over to say hello?” 

“I wasn’t looking at you,” you defend, knowing it isn’t true. If he catches your lie, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he asks the question you’ve been dreading. 

“Why aren’t you coming tomorrow?” 

Why, you ask yourself. Why? Because you can’t stand to see Dolly embrace her like she’s a daughter. Because you don’t want to be the only one not smiling at the reception. Because you’ve loved him your whole life, and he doesn’t seem to know. Because she’s lovely and beautiful and you’re the one he used to play dress up with. 

Because you’re selfish and twisted. 

“Angel,” he says. And, no, he can’t do that. He can’t call you that now. Now, when he’s going down the one path you can’t follow. Now, when he’s pretending like he doesn’t know how you’ve loved him since he was eleven. Now, when you’re losing him. “Things don’t have to change. Right?” If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounds scared. 

You do know better, though, so you know Jake never gets scared. 

“You know that’s not true,” you respond. The way his grin falls breaks your heart in two. Here you are, standing before him, bleeding out with a smile on your face. Dying and saying the tears are out of joy. “You’re going to be a husband, Jake. I can’t be in the middle of that.” 

“You’re my family,” he tries again. 

“I’m your friend,” you counter. Dolly and Violet and Jenny would disagree, and, honestly, you don’t believe it either. But it gets you through the conversation. “And I don’t think she’ll appreciate my presence. None of the others ever did.” 

“She’s not like that.” He means it, and you know it’s true. She’s been nothing but gracious and generous to you. 

“I know,” you respond quietly. “But I can’t do it. I just can’t. I don’t expect you to understand.” 

He waits a moment before he responds, his eyes looking into yours. There’s emotion in them that you aren’t used to seeing towards you. “I do.” He says it softly, and you almost don’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“I understand. Every time you’ve brought home someone, I feel what you’re feeling right now. The pain. Feeling like some part of you is being taken away.” He reaches up to cup your cheek with a gentle hand. Every part of you screams that you shouldn’t do this; you shouldn’t give him a reason to hate you for years. But you lean into his touch, the warmth of his palm against your cheek. It’s a fight not to beg for more. You do have some semblance of pride, though. 

“It doesn’t matter.” There’s a sad smile on your face and a matching one on his face. No one should look that heartbroken the day before their wedding. “It’s too late.” 

He doesn’t have to say anything; you both know it's true. With a heavy heart, you place your hand over the one cupping your face. There’s going to be a wedding band on one of those fingers tomorrow. It gives you strength to remember that.  

It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done; lacing his fingers with yours only to drop his hand to his side. He accepts the gesture. He lets you go. 

It wasn’t meant to be. He has a new angel now, one that will love him for as long as she can. It’s for the best, you tell yourself as you walk away. 

Blue eyes and blond hair. A little boy with a broken heart and blue nail polish. That’s how you’ll remember him.

[b0r3dtod3ath]

hiii !! for ur christmas writing thingy, could i request sebastian vettel with list c, nr 15 : “writing letters to santa” ?

im just imagining seb and readers kids writing letters to santa, and the kids force their parents to write as well …

Thank for the request!! I love this idea so much omg <33

Christmas Event Masterlist

You usually wake up to the noise of your alarm or the screams of your two kids but today was different. You gently opened your eyes just to close them a couple seconds later. You took in a deep breath and turned over. You assumed your husband wasn't asleep as you could hear almost silent taps on the screen of his phone. You opened your eyes once again and this time they were met with a view of your lover - messy blonde hair gave him a specific charm that you had fallen in love with many years ago. You snuggled yourself closer to him as he wrapped his arm around you, your eyes tried to read something on his phone but failed due to sleepiness. "Kimi is asking what he should get for the kids". Every year since Sebastian's retirement Raikkonens and Vettels spent Christmas together. It was a tradition for Kimi and Minttu to buy your kids' presents and for you and your husband to buy their kids' presents. This year was no diffrent. Your kids usually had some dream toys to get under the Christmas tree but this year you couldn't point out anything. "[Name] wanted something from Hot Wheels, I think.." you scrunched your brows. "Well, does it matter? Holidays are about more than just presents" your husband let out a chuckle at your defensive remark "Well, try to say that to your 7-year-old son who will be sad if he doesn't get what he wants." He's right, they are still kids. For them, it's the presents that the magic comes from. One year even Kimi dressed up as Santa. "You know, when I was their age I used to write letters to Santa. Now that I think of that, it must have been convenient for my parents." "Then I know what we will be doing today," said Sebastian as he stood up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. You let out a groan as he watched you sprawled out on the bed, falling in and out from sleep. Your moment of bliss was interrupted by the sound of two pairs of small feet running around the hallway. You got up and made your way to your bedroom door. As you opened them suddenly two little humans stopped moving as if they were caught doing something wrong. "What did I tell you about running in the house?" you could hear Sebastian letting out a small laugh at your bossy attitude. "Good morning, Mommy" "Morning" the two put on the prettiest smiles in hopes of not upsetting their mom. Their tactic worked as you kneeled down and pulled them into a hug "Just be more careful, we don't want anything to happen". They, more slowly this time, ran into the bedroom and plopped themselves on your bed. Your 4-year-old daughter had struggled a bit but her older brother quickly helped her. "So, what do we want for breakfast today?" asked their dad as he exited the bathroom.

You prepared pancakes as Sebastian helped to keep your kids occupied. You were putting things away, as the breakfast was in the pan. While opening the fridge you took a moment to look at a photo from your wedding day. You were dressed in a beautiful white dress and your husband had a tailored black tux on. You both looked a little younger but still had the same spirit as today. After breakfast, Seb washed the dishes and you prepared coffee for the two of you and some chocolate for your children. "We have a special task today for you two to do." you said winking at your husband "You need to bring some paper and art supplies to the dining table. Hurry up, but don't run". You watched as kids made their way upstairs. You used this moment of silence and wrapped your arms around your lover. You stood there in the kitchen and swayed for a moment until you heard little footsteps running into the room. "Ok! What now!" they both sat, still in their Pj's and waited for further instructions. "Now you write your letters to Santa. Tell him what you want for Christmas this year and we will send the letters to the North Pole!" said Sebastian. The kids energetically wrote their requests and added little drawings. After a moment your smaller daughter looked at you but didn't say anything. "What's on your mind [Name]?" asked her dad. "Why are you and mom not writing letters?" her brother looked up from his paper and waited for your response "Well, Santa is observing us all year round so he knows what we want, right Dad?" you said wanting Sebastian to support you thru these hard questions "Yes, yes, of course!" He said almost coughing at his coffee. "Then why are we writing those letters if Santa knows what everyone wants to get?" your girl was asking way too many questions. "And after whom you got all this wisdom from? Huh? Give me a paper, I and Dad will also write letters". You both took a crayon and started writing. Sebastian tried to look at what you were writing but you shot him a glance and said "Hey! It's a secret! I don't think you are Santa! Only Santa can see my letter!" he loved your playfulness around kids "Yeah? You know, to get what you want you have to be good all year. I think you might have been a little naughty lately." he said with a smirk earing a kick from you under the table. Once you finished writing your letters you symbolically pretended to put them into the letterbox. 

Later that evening, when the kids were sleeping, Sebastian sneaked out to take them back for you two to read. "Alright, let's see what they came up with" he said opening the one from his daughter. "A big big big, BIG teddy bear and lots of sweets" he read "And lots lots of cavities" you added ", alright! Pass me the next letter Mrs. Claus!" you handed him a letter from the boy "A Hot Wheels track set and a red koenigsegg toy" you laughed "See, I told you he wanted How Wheels!" "Yea, yea. You were right. But how come he knows how to write Koenigsegg but still writes that he "wamts for chirsmas". Next!" you scrunched your brows "Next?" you made eye contact "Yeah, I want to read the one from you." you grabbed it "Alright, here we go" he cleared his throat and started reading "Dear Santa, thank you for all the previous presents. I wanted to thank you for those two little gremlins and my loving husband. For this year I want nothing more than for us to be a happy, healthy and loving family. Well, maybe I would like to get a few days with my husband alone but I'm not complaining! Thank you! Your Y/N. Merry Christmas!". You snuggled into your husband's chest in order to hide you little blush. "Awww! I love you!" he said as he kissed the crown of your head.

04/12/2023

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Playing Pretend

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn

A/N: Hnnnnnnnngh, something something, commentary commentary idk. I'm caught up with the manga. Life is meaningless lol. Hopefully this chapter can ease the pain a little (though probably not much since we're hopping right back into angst town lmao, I'm so sorry)

Read Full on AO3

[excerpt]

Luxury. That was the word of the night. Everything about this experience dripped with luxury. Luxury was in the limousine that All for One had been so generous to charter for their pick up. It was in the Don Perignon chilled and waiting for them inside that her parents were kind enough to let her have a glass of. And it was in the Palace Hotel Ballroom that the company had rented out for this party. From every tuxedo-wearing waiter carrying trays of canapes around the room, every member of the string quartet playing Schubert as they entered, even to every Swarovski crystal ornament on the ceiling high Christmas tree in the center of the room. It was all pure, unadulterated luxury.

And it honestly had her wondering for a moment.

“You sure we’re in the right place?” she whispered to her mom, earning a reassuring squeeze.

“No, I’m not,” her mom joked back, just as hushed, “But we’re going to pretend like we are regardless.”

She looked back at her mom curiously. If she was feeling uneasy about the sky high expenditure and decorum of this place, she could only imagine how out of her element her mom was. She herself had spent her entire life ping-ponging between lower and upper middle class. But her mom, even before she’d been in foster care, had only known the heights of a paycheck to paycheck smalltown flower shop. Tie in the not insignificant times she’d spent living exclusively in manga cafes, and she could only imagine what an out of body experience she was having at this moment.

Although, maybe she wasn’t as out of her element as she thought.

If her mom was feeling any nerves or apprehension, it all went away the moment they were approached some of her father’s new, upper echelon bosses and colleagues, beautiful women on their arms (some being the mens’ wives, some being definitely not the mens’ wives), and she was rubbing elbows and talking the talk like the best of them.

“So, was that your first time in a limo?” Yamamoto, one of her dad’s bosses asked the bunch.

“Is it that obvious? ” her mother smiled politely

“Oh on the contrary. I think you all look quite natural at an event like this,” he turned then to her father, “A very handsome family, son. You should be proud.”

Her father smiled, giving her shoulder a little squeeze, “More than you can imagine. My oldest here is a senior at Kamino, and one of the top in her class.”

“Is that so?” Yamamoto said, turning to her, “Entrance exams are just around the corner, aren’t they? You feeling ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered, trying not to think about it too long, lest she get nervous.

That was pretty much the course of all her conversations tonight, so far at least. If it wasn’t asking her about her college plans, it was middle-aged VP’s telling her what a looker she was and how she “must have guys lining up for her at school”. Blegh.

All throughout she just smiled and nodded politely while trying not to look around too much for Shigaraki, who surprisingly, for the first quarter of the party, was nowhere to be found. Same for All for One. 

Weird, she thought at first, considering that this was their freaking party. Until she overheard one of her dad’s coworkers mention to him, “You know how much that ol’ bastard likes to make an entrance.”

As if on cue, the double doors to the ballroom opened (she hadn’t even realized they’d been shut?!) And in strutted All for One, standing tall and pompous as ever. She had to fight the biggest eye roll of her life as a soft applause filled the room, and he waved them off as if he wouldn’t have been completely pissed had the room been silent.

But just as fast as annoyance crossed her face, she couldn’t fight the skip in her chest when Tomura Shigaraki followed into the ballroom behind him. 

He’d cleaned up, and he’d cleaned up freaking good. 

His typical ill-fitting sweats and hoodie had been switched out for an impeccably crisp, slim fit suit that did his long legs and defined figure all the favors in the world. His hair was not only brushed, but obviously had some care put into it, fringe still in his face, but strategically so. He kept his eyes, staring forward intensely, intimidatingly, in full view. 

And on top of it all, much to her shock and joy, was the red jacket she’d bought for him hanging off his shoulders almost capelike. He’d even kept the fur part on and she’d be remiss to say it didn’t make him look like royalty.

He didn’t just look amazing, he looked like a leader. 

Her mom leaned down to her, nudging her not so subtly out of her awe, “Didn’t I see you bring home a jacket like that the other day?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she said, swatting away at her, but still unable to take her eyes off Shigaraki through it all.

The two crossed to the center of the room, stopping directly under the giant Christmas tree, where a member of the hotel staff was there to meet All for One with a microphone.

“Thank you all so much for coming tonight…” he started an inevitably long and pompous speech that she was eager to tune out.

And it was easy to do so, the longer she stared at his ward, admiring the way he stood off to the side of All for One, head held high, but still unmistakably himself as he stuffed a hand into his pant pocket. 

She smiled at the sight. Seeing him like this, she couldn’t help but be brought back to a few months ago. To that fateful dinner her family had shared with the Shigarakis. The one that Tomura had worn a ratty old hoodie to and had spent the whole night either slouching in his chair, avoiding eye contact, or feeling her up under the table. There was none of that immaturity or recalcitrance here tonight. While he may not have learned the ways of the fake smile and schmoozing that practically permeated the air here, the hard bitterness in his expression was one that could actually be interpreted as polished stoicism. An authority that was hard to impress. And above all, the model heir to his guardian’s company.

Continue on AO3

[asurprizinglysanefangirl]

Name meanings of Star Trek main characters

TOS –

James - Supplanter; Holder of The Heel

Spock – I don't know

Leonard - Lion Strength; Descendant; Lover

Nyota – Stars

(Bonus - Uhura – Freedom (crafted from the Swahili word uhuru for the show))

Mongomery - Mountain Belonging to The Ruler; Man Power

Hikaru – Radiance; Light

Pavel - Small; Humble, Modest

Christine - Follower of Christ

TNG –

Jean-Luc - God Is Gracious; Bringer of Light

William - Resolute Protector; Will, Desire; Helmet, Protection

Data - Facts and statistics collected together for reference or analysis

(Bonus - Soong – Grandson, Descendant (it's a Chinese surname))

Deanna – Valley; Devine; Goddess; Church Leader

Beverly - Beaver Stream, Meadow

Geordie - Land-Worker, Farmer

Worf – I couldn’t find anything for either his first or last name

Tasha – Christmas Day, Birthday (Of Christ)

Wesley - Western meadow

DS9 –

Benjamin - Son of The Right Hand, Son of The South, Son of my Days

Kira - Mistress, Lady; Beam of Light; Black; Glitter, Shining

(Bonus - Nerys – Noblewoman; Hero)

Jadzia - Princess

Julian - Youthful; Jove's Child; Downy Bearded

Odo – Nothing [Cardassian meaning] (The following is extracted from the ST Wiki -  "Odo's name stemmed from the Cardassian word for "nothing", Odo'ital, which was the loose translation of the "unknown sample" label in Bajoran on his laboratory flask. After he was discovered to be sentient, the scientists began jokingly referring to him as "Odo Ital", in a similar manner to a Bajoran name, which eventually got shorted into simply "Odo".)

Odo - Wealthy; Inheritance; Richness [Human meaning] (Because apparently it's also a human name!)

Quark - I couldn't find anything

Miles O’Brien - Soldier; Who Is Like God?; Merciful

Elim - Place of Strong Trees

(Bonus - Garak – To Sojourn, To Dwell. Check this article out for more information)

Jake - Supplanter; Of Jacob

Nog – Agriculture (it’s a Chinese surname)

Ezri – Helper, My Help

Voyager –

Kathryn - Pure

Chakotay – Man who walks the Earth but only sees the Sky

Tuvok – I don't know. (There probably is someone who knows the Vulcan meaning of Tuvok and Spock out there.)

B’Elanna – (Belanna is an actual name) A noble woman who is beautiful

(Another bonus - Torres - Towers)

Tom - Twin; Innocence

Harry – Home Ruler

The Doctor – The name Jason means Healer, so I sometimes think of that as his name

Neelix – It was created for the show

Kes – I couldn’t find anything

Annika (Seven of Nine) - Grace; Favor; Gracious; Elegant

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Twenty-Four: Rick Grimes + I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

The house party celebrating Christmas had gone well enough. Somehow, you managed to convince your husband to dress up as Santa, and with that, he wore the classic red suit and that long white beard.

You had to corral your children to go to their rooms and bed. Your oldest son was already in bed by the time you managed to get up the stiars with your creaking knees. You popped open the door, his head still lying on his pillow. "Good night, baby." You whispered and kissed his forehead. Your two youngest share a room for now. Your two shining and bright daughters loved to do everything in sync with each other. "Alright, my beauties, you need to go to bed, or Santa won't be coming to our house tonight." You say as you enter a messy room. Clothes and toys are scattered across the floor. Cite little giggles could be heard from under the sheets of their beds. You kissed both of them on their forehead and turned off their light.

You were careful when going down the stairs, only to find your husband waiting for you in the kitchen, still wearing the Santa costume. "You're not changing?" You ask him, and he shakes his head, "Not yet. I know how much you spent on this costume." He says and then hands you a hot cup of cocoa. A few sinking marshmallows bob onto the top of the drink, and as you sip the hot drink, you get shivers down your back.

"Did you bring the kid's gifts up from the basement?" YOu ask Rick as you set the hot cup down on the countertop. He hums, "All in the living room waiting for us to put them under the tree." He answers you with a warm smile on his face. You now think what it will be like when your oldest is away, and your girls are in their teenage years. Will they still want to get gifts and unwrap them in front of their parents? "Where do you keep going, love?" Rick asks, clearly concerned about where you keep going in your thoughts.

"It doesn't matter, love. Let's just get to putting the gifts under the tree." You tell your husband? He looks at you, pleading with his eyes to tell you your thoughts. Rick doesn't push any further, and you walk towards your living room. Having three kids meant that the Christmas tree was always packed. You also learned that having their own piles under the tree was better than scattering presents. The first year you learned that scattering presents wouldn't work was when your son opened up a gift for you from Rick and then when your daughter opened up her older brother's boxers. That Christmas had been a disaster.

As the two, you danced around each other to make the underneath of the tree look presentable. You couldn't help but grab Rick by the arm once in a while and snag his lips for a quick kiss. "I think I really like you dressed up like this." You tease Rick with a playful wink. He rolls his eyes at your comment but doesn't hesitate to grab your waist and pull you in for a meaningful and long kiss. "Of course, you enjoy this." He says as he pulls you even closer to his chest. Your lips meld effortlessly, and Rick's plump lips taste like hot cocoa and peppermint. You drag away, "You taste like peppermint." He raises a brow and gets close to your ear. "I can taste like other things if you want me to." Rick teases as his hands glide down your side and squeeze at your hips.

The following day is spent with one, two, and three knocks at your bedroom door. "SANTA CAME!" Your daughters yell in unison. It's not till the five of you are still comfortable in your living room. Rick and you are holding a hot cup of coffee, and your son speaks up as he tears through his stocking. "Dad?" Rick hums, looking up from his cup. "I think you should know something." Even your brows knit together. "What's up?" Rick asks, not sure at all where this is going. "I guess… I should get it out. I saw mom kissing Santa." The chuckle you must hold in is hot and spring to escape your blown cheeks. "Did you? Are you sure it was Santa?" Rick asks your oldest. As you try desperately to calm the laughter in your chest.

"I'm sure dad… and he was touching mom's butt." This time, you can hold back your laughter. Rick catches you in the corner of his eye, half a smirk on his face. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" He teases you with a serious question. You shrug your shoulders. "I was… Santa needed some help." You lie, but your son drops the conversation in favor of the oven dinging with muffins being done.

Completed on: 11/30/23

Posted on: 12/24/23

The Law Tags-

The Walking Dead Master List // The Law Master List // Christmas Stories Master List

[bullet-prooflove]

Special Delivery: Alexander 'Tig' Trager x Reader

Part of @storiesofsvu Holiday Bingo! The square was Winter Cabin!

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @mortal--soul @thatonesexycancerian @chaoticqueenie98 @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @nu1freakshow @lexondeck @adaydreamaway08 @goblinenby @fanfic-n-tabulous @just-a-girl-who-wrytes @ankhmutes @keyweegirlie @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @joyfulfxckery @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @multiflixshelves @luvvstvrkeyy @goosterroose @storiesofsvu

Part of the Crazy, Fucked Up Love Arc:

Crazy, Fucked Up Kind of Love - Tig discovers your secret.

Not Leaving: - Tig tells you he's not leaving.

Show You - Tig shows you how beautiful you really are.

Welcome Home (NSFW) - You welcome Tig home in a very special way.

Tig decides he wants his first Christmas with the baby to be special, even if his son still resides inside of you. It’s the reason he plans a babymoon a fortnight before your due date. He has everything planned to perfection. He heads up to the cabin a few days before Christmas Eve with Juice and Kozik, together they set up the tree and decorate the cabin. Jax chops firewood outside, leaving the stack alongside the hearth.

The only problem is Tig can’t cook, he has a couple of recipes under his belt but beyond that he’s out of his depth. He asks Gemma for help and as usual she comes through for him.

“You gonna propose or something?” She asks him as she plans out the shopping list.  

“Suzie’s been a trooper while I’ve been running between Stockton and Reno trying to smooth over all this shit with the guns.” He tells Gemma as he sits down at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee. “I haven’t been around as much as I would have liked.”

“You’re trying to make it up to her before the baby comes.” Gemma says knowingly, tapping her pen upon the surface of the notepad.

“I want to remind her how special she is.” Tig explains to Gemma, his thumb tapping against the mug. “How much her and the baby mean to me. It’s not been easy, being apart, especially when she’s so far along.”

“Hence Christmas up in the cabin.” Gemma summarises as she sits back in her chair.  “It’s rustic, it’s quiet, the perfect place to have a little mommy and daddy time before baby Matthew arrives. I’ll cook something up for the two of you and get Chibs to bring it up later with the gifts from him and Evelyn.”

“Thank you, you’re a godsend.” Tig says, kissing her on the cheek as he raises to his feet.

When you step into the cabin, he can see how much you love it. You’ve always wanted to have Christmas in a cabin, you remember telling him that on your second date. You’d been talking about favourite holidays; he wasn’t big on them, but you were. You loved everything about the Christmas season, the lights, the magic, even the Santa suit…

Especially the Santa suit as he had learned last year. He’d noticed the way you’d got a little hot and bothered while editing a Santa porno and decided to test his theory. It had been the most debauched night of his life, the things the two of you had gotten up to…

He can’t look at old St Nick without a blush creeping across his cheeks and he certainly could not return that suit.

You spend the evening in front of the fire, resting on Tig’s chest as you doze on the couch. You listen to the sound of his heart beating in his chest, your fingers playing over the fine chest hair. You’re half asleep when Chibs lets himself in. Tig tilts his head towards the other man who holds up a gift bag of presents in one hand and bag of carefully prepared food in the other.

“Just dropping off.” He says softly, a smile tugging at his features.

You struggle into a sitting position on the couch, your palm smoothing over the roundness of your belly before you say.

“Actually Chibs, I think my water just broke.”

It moves quickly from there.

There’s been a crash on the country road leading up to the cabin, there’s no way an ambulance can get through until the cars have been cleared from the road. It’s a fast labour, before you know it Chibs is between your legs telling you to push. Tig sits behind you, your back pressing against his chest as he murmurs soothing words into your ear.

The language that comes out of your mouth...

A sailor would be proud.

Chibs delivers the baby on the rug in front of the fire.

“Welcome to the world bonnie wee lad.” Chibs grins as he holds up the baby. He has a flock of Tig’s dark hair and the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Chibs wraps the infant up in a fleece blanket from the back of the couch before handing him over to you.

Tig’s cheek comes to rest against yours as you cradle your son close to your chest, his lips ghosting across your skin.

“You did good Suzie Q.” Tig whispers as he looks down at Matthew Filip Trager. “You did so good.”

Love Tig? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 23 - sommelier

pairing: sommelier!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which your friend's bachelorette weekend ends with the handsome sommelier's number in your phone

word count: 1896

warnings: alcohol, drinking, a woman (not reader) coming onto spencer

spence-tober masterlist

Unlike some of the other fellow women in the bachelorette party, you were grateful that your best friend, the bride, decided for a more classy approach for her bachelorette weekend.

Although, really anything would be more classy than renting male strippers in Las Vegas and wearing pink feather boas and fake plastic tiaras and getting hammered.

You had also agreed to take any blame for the complains of the other bridesmaids in the party for planning a chill weekend at a nice wine vineyard so your friend could get off scot free. 

Perhaps it was the bad memories of vodka and tequila in your 20s that turned the both of you off a bachelorette in Vegas, but you were glad to indulge her wishes for a ‘classier’ bachelorette weekend.

It was just this morning that the whole party had taken a small shuttle bus to the vineyard about two hours away and you were glad to see the tension of your friend’s shoulders lessen as she stepped off the bus. The wedding planning had been hectic for her and you were just happy to relieve some of the burden by taking care of most of the bridesmaids dibacles. After all, you were her maid of honor.

Today on the agenda you had planned, you’d all tour around the beautiful vineyard that stretched on for acres and acres and then have a private wine tasting before retiring for the night to your own devices.

The tour had been absolutely stunning. Seeing the grapes on the vines, just rows and rows of crops for the eyes to see. Then you had seen the large wine cellars where it ages and some of the rooms with large machinery where it was processed and actually turned into wine.

You had picked this specific vineyard because it was on the smaller scale and would be a more intimate experience for your small group. The owners, Jennifer Jareau and Will LaMontagne, greeted you as you arrived off your shuttle. They’re not too much older than you despite owning and operating a small scale wine vineyard. 

Your face burned with embarrassment when one of your fellow bridesmaids tried to flirt with Will and was glad when Jennifer didn’t seem too offended by her actions. She was soon warded off with the glimmering of the couple’s matching wedding rings and their adorable 5-year old son who wanted to help show you all to your lodgings. 

Your tour guide, however, was not so lucky to escape the flirtations and comments from the rogue bridesmaid. Poor Spencer Reid, you thought quite often as he guided your group around the vineyard. The one bridesmaid was spurned on with confidence when some of the other girls giggled at her comments which were down right dirty.

How Spencer didn’t turn as red as a tomato when she commented about the sizes of the grapes on the vine and then grabbed them in a very very weird way is beyond you. Because you certainly lit up like a Christmas tree.

After finishing the tour, you were beginning to dread the wine tasting and how adding alcohol to the risque girl would be a good idea. 

Luckily it so far seemed like she was a quiet drunk and instead left to flock to the rest of the bridesmaids’ sides for the majority of the wine tasting.

As your friends chatted over tasting a few glasses of red wine, you veer off over to the bar where Spencer, your tour guide and sommelier, was polishing wine glasses.

You understand why the bridesmaid was trying to get attention. The man was downright beautiful with his chocolate brown eyes and chiseled jawline. His scruff and wild hair only added to the handsomeness of the tall, slender, man.

“Hi,” You say, getting the man’s attention. You can feel your cheeks warming up with second hand embarrassment, “I just wanted to apologize for my friend over there.” 

You point behind yourself to the table where she sits, quietly (thankfully) nursing a glass of red wine. “What she said is completely inappropriate and I understand if you don’t feel comfortable taking care of our group for the rest of our weekend here.”

He smiles at you, gratefully, “It’s okay.” Spencer says shaking his head.

“No,” You reiterate, “It’s really not. I’ll try to keep her away from you and manage her better. That’s really just how she is, but that doesn’t excuse her behavior.” You promise.

He doesn’t comment on your response but instead gives you a smile and puts down the cloth and glass in hand. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asks, gesturing his hand to the wall of wine bottles.

You shake your head, “No, that’s okay. I’m good for now.”

“You’re not a wine drinker?” He inquires curiously.

Shaking your head again, you answer, “I’d just rather stay sober. Make sure everything goes okay tonight and all.” You send him a nervous smile.

This was your first time being the maid of honor for anybody and you just wanted to make sure your friend didn’t have to stress about anything and that she would have a perfect time leading up to her wedding.

“Designated driver?” He guesses.

“More like maid of honor.” You correct lightly.

“Ah,” Spencer says, hands dipping underneath the bar, “So you planned this weekend, then?”

You nod, “Yep! I just wanted to make sure everyone had a fun time.”

Turning your head to glance back to your friend group, your cheeks burn a little in embarrassment when your friend and bride to be wiggles her eyebrows at you and throws you a thumbs up in encouragement.

Thankfully, Spencer was busy mixing up a drink in a smaller tumbler style glass for you and you hope he didn’t see the way your friend was making eyes at the two of you.

“Here, try this,” Spencer says, offering you the drink in his hand. 

The drink is a bit bubbly and has a red tint, but is transparent in color and topped with a small sprig of what you identify to be rosemary.

You take it in your hand, but shoot him an inquistive look. 

“It’s just club soda, cranberry juice, and a splash of lemon juice.” Spencer informs you, keeping his eyes on you as you take a light sip of the drink.

“Hm!” You noise in delight, looking down at the drink. “That’s pretty good. Refreshing.” You describe, “Why do you have so many mixers in a wine bar?” You question, non-accusingly.

Spencer shrugs and goes back to polishing some wine glasses, putting them back on a holding rack when done. “I used to be a bartender before JJ and Will opened the vineyard to tourists. When they book events, I can still work the bar.”

“So you’re friends with the owners?” 

He smiles, like he’s thinking back at precious memories, “Yeah, JJ and I used to work at the same bar. Then they got married and saved enough money to buy a small vineyard. I didn’t want to bartend forever, people get rowdy and wasted every night. So they offered me a job and I took it.”

“That sounds nice.” You comment, then looking back at your friend group again. “But I’m sure you’re still around rowdy drunks every now and then.”

Spencer chuckles at your observation. “Not nearly as often anymore.”

You both laugh a little.

“You know, you didn’t have to apologize for your friend back there.” Spencer tells you, although a grateful expression remains on his face.

You shake your head in disagreement, “No, I did. I booked this weekend and I’m responsible for my group. If I thought I could get her to apologize, I would, but she would likely just flirt with you again. You shouldn’t be subjected to that when you’re just doing your job.”

“Well, thank you.” Spencer says genuinely, “It’s happened more times than you think.”

“Rich wine snobs?” You guess with a knowing smile.

He nods and a grin appears on his face, “Right on the nose. How’d you know?”

“I work in event planning.” You reveal, you take your finger and roam it about the rim of the glass as you talk to Spencer. 

He’s propped up against the bar now done with polishing glasses. He’s leaned up against the tall wooden counter and you also realize you’re leaning forward as well. Spencer’s very tall, as he’s standing against the bar top he still towers over you as you sit on a bar stool talking to him.

As you are reminded of the reason you are at the vineyard, you glance once again back to the table of bridesmaids and see them having fun amongst themselves, mixing different glasses of red wine together.

You feel comfortable enough to leave them to their own devices while you talk to Spencer and feel yourself relax a bit not having to worry about the party of women.

“Oh, did you plan your friend’s wedding as well?” Spencer inquires.

You shake your head back and forth, “No, I usually stick to smaller events. Weddings are way too stressful. I’d rather deal with a rich wine snob over a bride or groomzilla any day.”

“Really?” He asks surprised. 

You nod and confirm, “Yep, you would not believe some of the horror stories I’ve heard.”

The both of you share a laugh and Spencer leans in a little closer, but hesitates at first, unsure of himself. “Do you live in the area?” He asks cautiously.

You look at him with a slightly confused expression on your face, “Sort of. Why?” You answer vaguely.

He bashfully continues on, “If you’re looking for more work, JJ and Will have been looking for someone to handle the event side of the vineyard. They wanna focus on the wine production part.”

“Oh.” You can only find yourself saying.

“We’re a really small team and don’t have a lot of people full time here, but it’s good work and you’d really only have to come in half the time.” Spencer explains a bit more. Then he leans away from you, searching around the bar for a small cocktail napkin.

He pats his pockets until he draws out a pen and scribbles on the small piece of paper napkin, then handing it to you.

“Go ahead and enjoy the rest of your weekend, but, um, if you’re interested you can contact JJ or Will or, uh, me.”

You accept the napkin from him and look at it, intrigued by the offer. Limiting yourself to smaller scale events led to you usually being busy closer to holidays so it was a good offer. You couldn’t promise him anything yet, especially without talking to the owners, but you’d think about it.

“Thanks.” You say simply.

“And,” Spencer adds on, “just so you know, I wouldn’t be averse to getting to know you outside of work and all either.”

His cheeks and the tips of his ears redden as he looks down at the bar top. You steal a glance at his flushed face and then also steel your gaze downwards when he catches you staring. 

Your rowdy friends eagerly and loudly beckon you back to the table and you leave Spencer behind the bar, but not before thumbing delicately at the corner of the napkin with his number on it.

a/n: this was hard to think of an ending but i hope this classifies as a meet cute? i originally ended this with him asking her out but thought that would be a tad inappropriate when he's supposed to be working so i changed it to be a bit more ambiguous. i have another blurb or hc in mind with this pairing so you might see it again...

[togrowoldinv]

Mistletoe

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You’re starting to think Natasha is getting you under the mistletoe on purpose

Note: Yay holidays! I got this idea while decorating. It’s soft Mama Nat. I know I’ve added some kiddos to the family, so if y’all ever need me to clarify who anyone is let me know! I have many headcanons. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

“Again?” You ask your wife as your eyes catch a plant hanging above you on the doorframe. It’s accented with a red bow.

“Rules are rules, detka,” Natasha says with a smile, one that you’re convinced is mischievous in nature.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Come here,” Natasha says as she pulls you closer with her hands on your hips. She kisses your lips once, twice, and on the third time you feel little hands reaching up your legs.

“I want kisses!” Your youngest daughter, Belle, shouts at you two. You two break apart and you lift her onto your hip.

Natasha kisses Belle’s cheeks until she’s giggling so wildly that she’s squirming in your arms.

You put her down on the floor and she runs off to help her siblings at more decorations to the Christmas tree.

“Let’s go join in,” Natasha suggests. She takes your hand pulls you to the living room. It’s a wonderful sight as your kids work together to hang ornaments.

“Mama look!” Belle says as she’s being lifted up by your son Ivan to hang an ornament high in the tree.

“Wow! That’s amazing, beautiful girl!” You cheer her on.

“And thank you for helping her, Ivan,” Natasha adds. He gives her a smile.

You start helping add ornaments to the tree and it doesn’t take long before everyone is hungry, so you decide to order some pizza. When you come back from the front door with the food, Natasha is waiting at the doorframe and pointing upwards.

“Babe, are you doing this on purpose?” You ask her.

“Am I doing what on purpose?” Nat asks with a cheesy grin.

“I love you,” you say as you lean over the pizzas in your arms and kiss her.

“I love you more, y/n.”

“Gross,” your oldest daughter Ali remarks as she walks to you and takes the pizzas from your arms.

“We’re not gross!” You reply.

“They’re just cheesy, Al. And don’t act like you aren’t the same way,” Jack adds in. He’s become more comfortable with sibling banter and it makes you so happy.

“And that’s why Jack is my favorite,” you joke.

“Whatever,” Ali says. “At least I’m Mama’s favorite.”

“No way! That’s me! Or maybe Taylor,” Ivan says.

“Okay, settle down kids. You’re all our favorites, and we love you so much we even got you pizza. Please eat,” Nat says. She’s always good at corralling the kids.

Everyone eats pizza as Christmas music continues to play. The decorations go up and by the end of the night your house is a winter wonderland.

You get all of the kids in bed at a decent time after watching Elf. As you turn off the last light, you make your way to your bedroom.

Natasha is sitting under the covers and you notice a green plant accented with a red bow above her on the headboard.

“A coincidence?” You ask her.

“Hm maybe. But rules are rules,” Natasha says.

You walk to her and kiss her cheeks. And then her forehead and then her nose.

“Please baby, mistletoe constitutes real kisses,” Natasha says, her voice raspy and flirty.

“Oh, does it? Is that why my wife has been putting them all around the house and getting me under them?”

“She has good reasons,” Natasha replies.

“She does. I love you so much,” you tell her. You kiss her.

“I love you most,” Nat says before she pulls you in once again.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @wandasbb @be-missed @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @mythosphere-x @readings-stuff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @milfloverslut @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @wandassitcom @ggrangerdanger @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @xxromanoffxx @peanutbutterprincess @karmasgxrl @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @exhaustedfangirl @when-wolves-howl @natashalovers @marie45019 @inluvwithfictionalwomen @sammi1642 @jujuu23 @the-night-owl-blr @strangegardentaco @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @imthenatynat @sayah13 @harleysincairo @rach2602 @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @lovelyy-moonlight @huitzilinthebudgie3 @juicyy444 @natblackwidow2 @youralphawolf72 @btay3115 @red1culous @lenam07 @randomwriter1021

[ali-r3n]

Baby Munson’s Loud Debut

Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

The Munsons' Series Masterlist

Eddie and Y/N welcome their son into the world

~ December 26 1989 ~ The day that Johnny Munson entered the world. 

Y/N started to feel contractions early Christmas morning, but assumed it was just Braxton Hicks so she didn’t tell Eddie. The last thing she wanted to do was worry him today of all days. She rubbed her belly as they all sat around the Christmas tree in the corner of his uncle’s trailer.

 They all took turns opening their presents. 

Wayne smiled at the new mug he got. ‘World’s Best Grandfather’ in bold letters on the white ceramic. Eddie was thrilled with the most recent Dungeon and Dragons handbook. 

“This is perfect,” he said as he flipped through the book. “Thank you, Sweetheart.” 

Even the newest member of the Munson family got a gift. A black onesie with white letters that read, ‘I listen to metal with my dad.’ 

“For when the little guy finally comes,” Wayne stated. 

A strong contraction had her grimacing behind her mug of hot chocolate. 

“You alright, Sweetheart?” Eddie asked when he noticed something off about her. 

She nodded. “Yeah. Just cold.” 

He grabbed the blanket that was placed over the back of the couch and draped it over her pajama- clad legs. 

“Better?” He inquired as he tucked her in. 

She smiled and reached out to brush his bangs off of his forehead. “Yeah.”  

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head and her large bump. “Behaving for your mama in there, Little Man?” He placed his ear on her stomach and acted like his unborn son was talking to him. “Mmhmm. I see.” He gasped. “No way!” 

Y/N giggled at her dork of her boyfriend. Eddie looked up at her with his wide brown eyes. 

“I love you, Sweetheart.” 

“I love you too, Eddie.” 

He took her hand in his ringed one and ran his thumb over her knuckles. 

“I don’t know if I can say it enough, thank you. Thank you for giving me something I never thought I could have. A baby and a loving girlfriend… who will hopefully be my wife…” he trailed off and pulled something out of his back pocket. 

Y/N’s breath hitched. “Eddie…” 

He opened the velvet ring box and presented the most beautiful diamond ring she had ever seen. 

“Will you, Y/N Y/L/N, make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” 

She opened her mouth to answer and felt like she had peed her pants. Her eyes widened. 

“Oh Fuck!” she exclaimed. 

Eddie was taken aback. “Uh, Sweetheart. Is that a yes?” 

“E-Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

“My water just broke.” 

“Oh shit!” 

12 hours of labor later, Johnny Wayne Munson arrived. A full head of brown curls, screaming his little lungs out. Disgruntled from the cold air of the sterile hospital room. He only settled when he was placed on his mother’s chest. Soothed from the warmth of her skin. 

Y/N caressed her son’s head as tears ran down her face. 

“Hi Baby Boy,” she cooed. “We’ve waited for a long time for you to arrive.” 

She looked over at Eddie who was also crying with a smile on his face. 

“Yes,” she stated. 

He blinked. “What?”

“I never gave you an answer. Yes, Eddie. I will marry you.” 

He didn’t think it was possible for his smile to get any bigger, but his girl just proved him wrong. He was too choked up to respond so he just nodded his head. 

He reached into his pocket and retrieved the box. Eddie grabbed her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger before he kissed her knuckles. He stood up from the uncomfortable hospital chair and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. He cupped Johnny’s head and kissed his hair. 

“This is the best day of my life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Munson’s Taglist:

@eddiemunsons-girl @ches-86 @minaxcarter @shenevertricks1831 @persephone13 @spencestyles @jessevans @vivienatreides  @stormseyes @politephantommenace @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo

Eddie Munson Taglist:

@meaganjm @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonsfavbitch @fangirling-4-ever @zzokks @mattymurdocksbitch @fillechatoyante @luvbug4728 @doll-in-the-walls @ches-86 @shenevertricks1831 @urlocalhippie2029 @celestair @ruinedbythehobbit @purple-storm

@meaganjm @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonsfavbitch @fangirling-4-ever @zzokks @mattymurdocksbitch @fillechatoyante @luvbug4728 @doll-in-the-walls @ches-86 @shenevertricks1831 @urlocalhippie2029 @celestair @ruinedbythehobbit @purple-storm

@sarai-ibn-la-ahad @livslifeonline @strangerthingsstories5255 @becca-alexa @aactuaaltraash

Stranger Things Taglist:

@valeriiecameron @maruushkka @rainbows-dreams @april-foolish

Stranger Things (Billy excluded) Taglist;

@sleepyhead1456