#12 fics of christmas

[temporarywelcome]

12 Fics of Christmas Day 1 - Peter Maximoff

"The Best Gift"

Words: 1.1k

Summary: Peter wants to get reader a present for Christmas that he earned himself.

WARNINGS: light swearing

Target in the 80s

____

Everyone knew Peter was a huge klepto. 

At first, people assumed it was just because he was an attention whore who craved the interactions that came with his constant thievery. But Y/N was beginning to believe it was just a desire he could not control. 

But then Christmas was rolling around and he made it his mission to get Y/N a present the honorable way. No stealing involved. He wanted to earn the present to give it to her.

The question was… how the hell do you get money? 

“A job?” Alex had deadpanned when Peter complained about his predicament. That had made the speedster gasp in complete horror. A job? Working?

That was downright awful. 

“You walk around a few neighborhoods with an empty can asking for spare change?” Alex had tried again, bored with the conversation. 

“That’s so pathetic,”

Alex had then put down his game controller, giving Peter a look, “Get a friggin job, dude,”

Work? Peter Maximoff? The concept sounded both foreign and terrible. He liked how things were now. He went to school (sometimes), he hung out with his hot girlfriend (all the time), he played video games (also all the time), and he was happy like that. 

The thought of taking up some of his precious time doing labor was awful. Absolutely terrible idea. Peter Maximoff would never be caught working some measly job for some measly paycheck.

Anyway… he got a job at Target. 

And he hated it. 

Scrubbing toilets, cleaning spill ups in different aisles, trying to count change as fast as possible while the customers complained and their babies cried, dealing with angry buyers. He was not meant to deal with the stress. 

Currently, he was re-organizing a shelf that he had just fixed up a few minutes ago, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He suppressed a grimace, turning his head to speak to the customer, “How can I help you-?” he paused, eyes lighting up when he noticed who had touched him. 

Y/N!

“Loving the customer service voice,” she mused, laughing when he threw his arms around her. 

“Save me from this cursed place,” Peter mumbled dramatically into her neck.

Y/N laughed, pulling away to fix his uniform, “Also loving the uniform.” His uniform consisted of a crisp ironed white button down and black tie accompanied by a red vest. Lastly were a pair of navy jeans and his converse, kind of throwing off the professional look. 

“Save meeee,” he repeated, trying to pull her back. 

“You’re the one who wanted a job so suddenly,” she pointed with a playful eye roll, “What was the reason for this again?”

“Um,” he bit his bottom lip, scratching the back of his neck, “I was bored…?”

“Uhuh…” she didn’t believe him at all, but let him be, “You look cute in your uniform,”

Peter blushed, looking down at himself. He thought he looked stupid. “Of course I do. I look cute in everything,” he decided to reply. 

“That you do,” she grinned, cupping his cheeks and giving him a quick kiss, “Take it easy, baby. I’ll see you after your shift ends?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed with a small smile, leaning in for another kiss.

Y/N, being the bully she was, backed away, “You’ll get another after your shift!” he pouted as she skipped off, not running after her. He obviously could catch up to her if he wanted to, but he knew he needed to lock in if he wanted to keep this job and get enough money for her Christmas present. 

So he went back to re-organizing the shelf, using that super speed of his to his advantage. He grinned in victory once he finished (in two seconds), that smile fading as his walkie roared to life.

“Clean up on aisle C37.” 

Stupid shit.

____

It was six a.m. on Christmas day when Y/N had woken up to the sound of knocking on the door to her dorm room. She groaned, pulling her blanket over her head and ignoring the knock.

Which continued. 

“I’m going to kill someone today,” she grumbled, stumbling out of bed and shuffling into her slippers, making her way to the door. She didn’t even bother checking the peephole, opening the door, “What the hell do-?”

“Merry Christmas!” Peter shouted excitedly, beaming at her with a terribly wrapped present in his hands. The wrapping paper was of sharks eating pizza, all crumbled up and almost unnoticeable. There was a bow right on top, and red color that certainly didn't match the wrapping paper choice.

It was adorable.

“For me?” Y/N rasped out, still tired and a bit delirious. She then realized she must look crazy, so she began smoothing down her hair.

Peter nodded, excitement evident in his body language, he was practically buzzing. “Yes! Open open open!” he shoved the gift into her hands.

“Well come inside first,” she laughed quietly, stepping out of the way so he could enter her dorm. He zoomed in, sitting on her bed as he waited for her to open the gift. Y/N took a seat next to him, unwrapping the gift. Inside was a velvet box, which she opened.

A silver necklace, adorned with little diamonds and a pendant. A locket! With a smile, Y/N opened it, eyes brightening seeing a small picture of them together inside. “This is so beautiful, baby, thank you!” 

“I didn't steal it!” He said proudly, “I bought it myself!”

“Really?” She was touched, arms going around him for a hug, “Is that why you were working at Target?”

“Yes,” he hugged her back tightly, “I wanted to work for your gift."

"That's so sweet," she pressed a few kisses to the side of his face, making him giggle. He coughed, trying to hide the sound that just left him.

"I decided to not quit, surprisingly,” he said, trying to change the subject slightly.

“Whoa, really?” Y/N asked in curiosity, “Why?”

Peter shrugged softly, “Thought I could use some responsibility in my life.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my Peter?” Y/N joked, pinching his cheek, “I'm proud of you, baby.” Holding out the box, she asked: “Put it on?”

He nodded enthusiastically, taking the necklace out. Y/N held up her hair as he put the necklace on her, doing the clasp before leaning in and kissing her neck, then shoulder, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Peter,” she smiled, standing up and grabbing a present from her desk, “here,” she held it out, “A gift for my favorite gift,”

He blushed at being referred to as her favorite gift. 

How the hell did he get so lucky?

___

tags: @envy-of-greed @bohnerrific69 let me know if you want to be removed or added

[23victoria]

𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝔂 𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓳𝓪𝓬𝓴

​​pairings: 𝓯1 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

synopsis: 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓪𝓭𝓶𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷

word count:

authors note: 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓼𝓸 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓪 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮, 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓵 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓾𝓭𝓸 ;)

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST F1 CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

Lewis

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but watching Lewis chop down a tree was more attractive than you could’ve prepared for. His beanie sat low over his braids, and his tailored winter coat somehow still showed off his lean figure as he worked. He was taking his time, pausing every now and then to adjust his grip on the saw.

“You okay over there?” he called, catching you staring.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you replied, lips pressed together to keep yourself from grinning too wide.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re making it very hard to focus on Christmas right now,” you said, pushing off the car to walk closer.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to sawing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Says the man chopping wood like he’s auditioning for a holiday romance movie,” you teased, standing just close enough to admire the way his muscles moved under his coat.

When the tree finally toppled over, Lewis turned to you, his smile soft and inviting. “So, what do you think? Still distracted?”

“Very,” you admitted, stepping into his space and wrapping your arms around his waist. “Think you can distract me more?”

“I’ll try,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you.

Charles

Charles was doing his best, really. He had one hand on the axe and the other bracing the tree, his face scrunched up in concentration. The axe was slightly too big for him, but he wasn’t giving up.

“Almost there!” he exclaimed, breathless, his accent wrapping around the words as he gave the tree another swing.

You leaned against the side of the car, your head tilted as you admired him. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and the sleeves of his sweater were pushed up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms. God, the forearms.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you murmured, eyes sweeping over him appreciatively. “Take your time, baby. No rush.”

He glanced back at you, chest heaving, a strand of dark hair falling into his face. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“No reason,” you replied, biting back a grin as you watched him plant his feet and take another swing.

When the tree finally came down, Charles threw his hands up in triumph, laughing. “Voilà!”

“Very impressive,” you teased, stepping closer to loop your arms around his waist. “You know, you look really good with that axe.”

His eyebrows raised. “Do I?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. “Good enough to make me forget about decorating the tree.”

Carlos

Carlos had insisted on chopping the tree down himself, despite your offers to help. He had his jacket unzipped and his scarf hanging loosely around his neck, clearly starting to warm up from the effort. His strong hands gripped the axe expertly, his movements steady and deliberate as he worked.

“Looking good, Sainz,” you called, leaning casually against a nearby stump.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “I always look good, cariño.”

“Mhm, mhmm,” you hummed, your gaze fixed on the way his biceps flexed with each swing. You weren’t even trying to hide the fact that you were ogling him.

Carlos noticed, of course. “You’re not even looking at the tree.”

“That’s because I’m looking at something much more interesting,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

With one last swing, the tree fell, and Carlos turned to you, resting the axe on his shoulder. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re too attractive for your own good,” you replied, stepping closer and tugging lightly on his scarf. “Think we have time to christen the cabin before we decorate?”

His grin widened. “You read my mind baby.”

Max

You stood back, bundled in your warmest coat and scarf, watching Max work with the hand saw on the pine tree trunk. His jaw was clenched in determination, blond hair messy under his beanie, and his broad shoulders moving rhythmically with each pull of the saw. The man was efficient—grunting softly every now and then, his strength on full display.

“Almost there,” he muttered, glancing at you for just a second, flashing a confident smirk.

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting your lip and crossing your arms. You weren’t even cold anymore, not with the way he looked like some kind of outdoorsy calendar model.

When the tree fell with a soft thud, Max stood up and leaned against the trunk, wiping sweat off his brow. “What do you think?” he asked, breathing hard.

What you thought was that he looked so damn good doing that, you wanted to drag him into the cabin and forget about the tree altogether. “Yeah… looks great,” you murmured, trying to keep your cool.

Max narrowed his eyes knowingly. “You’re staring, schatje.”

“Maybe I like what I see,” you shot back, smirking.

“Careful,” he teased, stepping closer with that cocky swagger of his. “We might not even get the tree inside if you keep looking at me like that.”

Lando

Lando wasn’t exactly the most experienced with an axe, but he was determined to prove himself. He stood in front of the tree, beanie crooked on his head, and his tongue sticking out slightly as he swung the axe.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” you asked, hiding your amusement.

“I’ve got this!” he said confidently, though the axe got stuck in the trunk on his next swing.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him, his cheeks red from the cold and his hair peeking out from under his beanie. “Mhm, mhmm,” you murmured, mostly to yourself. He might’ve been struggling, but damn if he didn’t look good doing it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lando asked, catching the tone in your voice.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though your grin gave you away.

Lando narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Not at all,” you replied, stepping closer and brushing some snow off his shoulder. “In fact, I think you look pretty hot right now.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh. Well. Thanks.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Now hurry up before I get too distracted to wait for you to finish.”

Oscar

Oscar insisted he could handle chopping the tree himself, even though you’d offered to take turns. His cheeks were already pink from the cold, the soft rise and fall of his breath visible in the winter air as he focused on the task. His grip on the saw was firm, and his jaw tightened in determination with each pull.

You stood nearby, bundled up in your jacket, unable to stop staring. He wasn’t showy or dramatic like some of the others might be—Oscar’s charm was in how quietly capable he was, how his calm confidence made it impossible to look away.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you murmured under your breath, leaning against a nearby stump as your eyes trailed over the way his arms flexed with each movement.

He paused mid-saw, glancing up at you with a raised brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, biting your lip to hide your smirk.

Oscar tilted his head, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You’re staring at me, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” you teased, crossing your arms as you walked closer. “My boyfriend looks very attractive chopping down a Christmas tree. What am I supposed to do, not look?”

His cheeks flushed, and it wasn’t just from the cold this time. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, though his smile betrayed him.

“You love it,” you shot back, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Finish up so I can drag you inside and show you just how much I appreciate your hard work.”

Sebastian

Sebastian looked like something out of a winter magazine as he worked, his green jacket snug against his frame and his woolen hat perched perfectly on his head. He made chopping down the tree look effortless, his movements efficient and controlled as though he’d been doing this his whole life.

You stood off to the side, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to suppress the utterly indecent thoughts running through your mind. Watching him chop wood should not have been this attractive. And yet.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you hummed softly, tilting your head to admire the way his muscles shifted beneath his jacket with each swing of the axe.

Seb turned, catching your gaze, and a knowing smile spread across his face. “What’s that sound for?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, though the way you bit your lip gave you away.

“Nothing, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, resting the axe on his shoulder as he walked over to you. “You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes.”

“Can you blame me?” you asked, shamelessly letting your eyes sweep over him. “You look so good doing this, I’m starting to forget why we even need the tree.”

Seb chuckled, his gloved hand reaching out to tug you closer by the waist. “If we don’t decorate the tree, it won’t feel like Christmas,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Decorating can wait,” you murmured, tugging lightly on his scarf. “I have other priorities right now.”

Jenson

Jenson looked like he belonged in a holiday commercial as he worked, his scarf casually thrown over one shoulder and his jacket unzipped just enough to hint at the sweater underneath. He was taking his time, not rushing, his movements deliberate and precise as he wielded the axe with ease.

You stood nearby, watching him with an almost embarrassing amount of focus. His silver hair caught the sunlight, and the way his body moved with such confidence and control was doing things to you. Things you probably shouldn’t admit aloud.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you hummed appreciatively, your eyes shamelessly glued to him.

Jenson straightened, brushing snow off his hands as he turned to you with a smirk. “What’s with that look on your face?”

“What look?” you asked, feigning innocence even as your cheeks warmed.

“The one that says you’re not thinking about Christmas anymore,” he teased, resting the axe against the tree as he walked over to you.

You shrugged, tilting your head as you gave him a once-over. “Can you blame me? My boyfriend looks like he walked straight off the set of a Hallmark movie. How am I supposed to focus on the tree?”

He chuckled, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “So, what you’re saying is, I’ve distracted you?”

“Completely,” you admitted, running your hands up his chest.

Jenson leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about ways to distract you since we got here.”

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[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Snow Angels | S.Coups

❄️ Pairing: Dad!Choi Seungcheol x Mum!Reader ❄️ Requested by: Anon ❄️ Synopsis: Prompt 10 - Y//N and Seungcheol take their kids outside to make a snowman and snow angels ❄️ Word Count: 999 ❄️ Warnings: None. Sorry this was late, I've been sick with a migraine. ❄️ Taglist: Open. I am renewing my tag lists for 2025. Please read this post if you want to stay on them- tag list renewal (dec 01-31 2024).

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

“Eomma! Eomma! Eomma!” Seungcheol and Y/N’s oldest son chants excitedly as she rushes into the kitchen where Y/N is making breakfast for the family of five. “It snowed again last night!” he informs her. The first thing he did after waking up was look out the window. Seungcheol had told him they were expecting another snow fall over night and promised him they’d spend time making snowmen and snow angels with his younger brother and sister. “There’s so much more snow out there!” the 8-year-old let’s her know. 

“Really?” Y/N asks, pretending to be surprised. “I guess that means you’ll have a lot more snow for your snowman.” 

He nods his head, before putting on the same pout his father uses for various reasons. “But more snow means I have to look harder for rocks to use as the eyes and mouth.” 

“Check the bowl on the table,” Y/N tells him nodding towards the bowl that sits near the end of the table, closest to the door. "Appa went out and found some last night." 

"Can we go build a snowman now?" Seung-han excitedly asks, seeing the small rocks in the bowl. 

"Let's have breakfast first," Y/N tells him. "Then we can get ready and go outside to make a snowman." 

"I thought we were decorating the Christmas Tree first," Seungcheol says walking into the kitchen, carrying their 2-year-old daughter, Nari, with their second son, 6-year-old Ye-jun trailing behind them. They were a little late to getting the christmas tree decorated. It had been sitting bare in the corner of their living room for a good two weeks. Between their busy schedules and school functions, they hadn't had time until now. Both Y/N and Seungcheol have a weekend off and thought it would be fun activity to do as a family. 

“But I want to build a snowman,” Seung-han insists, pouting once more. “We can always build a snowman after we decorate the tree,” Seungcheol suggests, gently placing Nari in her chair and helping Ye-jun into his.  

“Snowman first,” Seung-han argues, trying to convince his father. His younger siblings quickly echo his words leaving no room for argument. 

Seungcheol mirrors his sons pout as he walks over to his wife, pecking her lips before bowing down to place a kiss on her rounded belly where their fourth (and final) child, another boy, is growing. 

"We can always decorate the tree later," Y/N assures her husband. "It'll be nice to do once we're all warmed up from being in the snow," she continues before lowering her voice, "It won't be long until they get cold and bored and want to come back inside." 

"Snowman first, it is," Seungcheol concedes, earning cheers from all three of his children, even though he suspects Nari, the daddy's girl, is just going along with her older brothers. 

Once breakfast is ready, Seungcheol helps Y/N set the table. "Make sure to eat all your food, or I might change my mind and we’ll do the Christmas tree first," he warns the kids as he places their bowls in front of them. 

After they finish breakfast, Seungcheol does the dishes and then helps Y/N get their children wrapped up warm in coats, scarves and gloves before heading outside to play in the snow. As soon as they're outside, Seung-han is making snowballs to make the snowman with Seungcheol's help while Ye-jun and Nari flop onto the ground, waving their arms and legs, leaving behind perfect imprints in the soft snow. Nari, her cheeks flushed from the cold, gets up and admires her creation, her eyes wide with joy as Ye-jun goes to help his father and older brother in making a snowman. 

"Look Eomma, it's Uncle Hannie!" Nari says, standing up and pointing to the snow angel she made. "Take a photo!" 

Y/N chuckles at Nari's enthusiasm, her cheeks flushed from the snow as she stands proudly beside her creation that reminds her of her favourite uncle and godfather.  

"Alright, my little princess," she replies, pulling out her phone. She makes sure to get the perfect angle, making sure to include Nari's beaming smile and the outline of her snow angel in the frame. Y/N takes a couple photos, sending one to Jeonghan with the caption 'It's Uncle Hannie – Nari.' 

Seungcheol, still kneeling beside Seung-han as they make the base for their snowman, glances over at Y/N and Nari, his heart swelling with pride and love. He lives for these carefree moments, seeing his wife and children happy. He finishes packing a snowball and tosses it playfully at Seung-han, who squeals in surprise and retaliates with a snowball of his own. He laughs, dodging the incoming snowball. The playful banter quickly escalates into a full-blown snowball fight, all three kids against their dad. Y/N watches, her heart full. 

After a while, the snowball fight winds down, and the children, breathless and giggling, collapse into a heap in the snow. Seungcheol joins them, lying back and making his own snow angel, much to the delight of the kids. 

“Okay, everyone! We should get back to making the snowman!” Seungcheol suggests. They begin rolling large snowballs, working together to stack them on top of each other. Seungcheol helps them, lifting the large snowballs with ease and placing it carefully on top of the bottom one.  

“Now for the face!” Seung-han declares, running off to get the bowl of rocks that Seungcheol had connected the night before. Nari and Ye-jun follow suit, their little hands searching for the perfect items to give their snowman personality. Seungcheol takes off his scarf placing it around the snowman's neck. 

Once the snowman is complete, Y/N makes them crowd around their creation and takes some photos on her phone, wanting to capture the moment forever. 

“Can we go inside now?” Seung-han asks, starting to shiver from the cold, his teeth chattering slightly. 

Seungcheol agrees ushering his growing family back inside so they can get warmed up before they start decorating the Christmas tree.

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[ellecdc]

it's not Christmas 'til somebody cries

Christmas Eve and the following morning with The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black family at 12 Grimmauld Place [honestly I'd been listening to this song and had a few scenes come to mind and I just thought it would be funny to see this in one of the families we all love to hate] -> 2.5k words

starring: Black Sister!reader, Sirius, & Regulus featuring: Grand-Père Pollux Black, Walburga & Orion Black, Uncle Alphard, Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus, Bellatrix & Rudolphus Lestrange, Andromeda & Ted Tonks, Narcissa & Lucius Malfoy, Nymphadora, Draco, & Matteo based off the song: It's Not Christmas Till Somebody Cries by Carly Rae Jepsen

CW: DRINKING, mentions of 'biological clocks', casual misogyny, parents guilting their children, [correctly] accusing your cousin of adultery, implied/suspected homophobia, talks about 'youth these days', modern AU, toxic/ridiculous Black family but reader and her brother's still do their best to deal with them.

Regulus rounded the corner to see you and Sirius waiting where the three of you had agreed to meet, seeing as none of you were willing to walk into your childhood home without back up.

He watched as you nodded your head towards Regulus, alerting Sirius to his arrival causing your older brother to deflate significantly in relief. 

“That is a filthy and disgusting habit.” Regulus spat, referring to Sirius’ cigarette which Regulus plucked straight from his brother’s mouth before taking a deep drag of it himself. 

Sirius scoffed and opened his mouth for what was no doubt going to be some clever quip or devastating blow at Regulus’ expense, but was saved the breath when you shoved something into Regulus’ chest.

“This is for you, Reg.” You offered in a bored tone.

“Thank you?” He replied as a question, stomping out Sirius’ pilfered smoke and taking the - seemingly full - flask from your grasp. 

“Didn’t feel like bringing your lovely husband with you?” Sirius taunted as he elbowed his younger brother in the side, earning him a derisive scoff. 

“Please. If I hadn’t already learned from Uncle Alphard, I’ve certainly learned from Andy.”

You and Sirius both offered sympathetic hums.

“Poor Ted.” You lamented.

“Tonks does it to himself at this point.” Sirius responded more flippantly. “Why does the bloke still come when he’s given nothing but shite?” 

“It’s important to offer a united front for the children.” You and Regulus chorused robotically. 

“Christ.” Sirius muttered as he pulled out a flask that matched the one you’d handed Regulus moments ago and took a swig from it. 

“Did you get the two of us matching flasks?” Regulus asked before turning to watch as you uncapped another identical flask and took your own swig. 

“I got the three of us matching flasks.” You answered breathlessly as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand. “You’ll want to keep that close, Reggie.”

“We’re playing a drinking game.” Sirius concluded as he flashed his eyebrows at him. “Happy Christmas.”

“Don’t speak so soon, Siri.” You chided quietly as you took the stairs up to the door of 12 Grimmauld Place. “You know it’s not Christmas ‘til somebody cries.”

And the three of you dared to step over the threshold as you entered your own personal nightmares before Christmas. 

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence.” Your mother drawled theatrically, alerting the rest of the already full house to your arrival. 

“Hello, mother.” You offered firmly, shooting her a look, albeit a softer one than Sirius currently adorned, both of you clearly trying to tell your mother to sod off in your own distinct ways. 

“We wondered if the three of you had perhaps gotten lost.” Your father added in way of a greeting as he all but breezed past the cluster of you in the entrance towards the study you knew he stashed his good liquor in. 

“One could only hope, father.” Sirius drawled, earning him an elbow in the side from you. 

“Sirius! Was that you, my boy?” Alphard called as he came to save the bunch of you from your parents. “And the twins, my loves; how are the lot of you?”

“We’re well, uncle Alphard. Thank you.” You replied easily, causing Sirius to scoff and narrow his eyes at you from the embrace he was currently sharing. 

“Speak for yourself, little sister. I’ve never been worse.” 

“Is that so?” Alphard laughed as he moved to give you and Regulus hugs of your own. “Why’s that? Are you finding yourselves a touch too sober?” The end of his question falling softer as he pulled a flask out from his breastpocket and shook it at you all invitingly.

The three of you smirked and pulled out your own in perfect timing, hearing Bellatrix screeching at one of the kitchen staff over something no doubt completely asinine and insignificant. 

“Bottoms up, children.” Alphard sing-songed before taking his own sip and floating further into the house. 

“The children were starting to think their aunt and uncles weren’t going to bother showing.” Lucius Malfoy drawled, smirking at the three of you predatorily as you all moved to the dining room to take your seats. 

“I’m sure little Draco was very upset that his mother’s disgraced cousins were 15 minutes late to Christmas eve dinner, Malfoy.” Sirius drawled sarcastically. “Maybe you should buy him another pony to make it up to him.”

“Sirius!” Your mother hissed at him.

“He started it!” 

“Real mature, brother.” Regulus muttered as he reached for one of the many bottles of wine lining the table and poured himself a very generous glass.

“The staff will be out to serve the wine, Regulus.” Walburga scolded.

“I’m more than capable of pouring my own wine, mother.” He responded, reaching over Sirius to pour you a glass as well as you held it out for him, causing your mother to screech your name too.

“Regulus is more than capable of pouring me a glass of wine, mother.” You repeated.

“No good, ungrateful children.” She hissed under her breath, standing from the head of the table with a dramatic flourish before storming into the kitchen where you could all hear her screeching at the staff about leaving her guests waiting unattended. 

“Does the staff crying count?” Regulus whispered under his breath; you and Sirius both offered him a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders before sneakily taking a swig from your flask, sharing a wink with Alphard from across the table who had, apparently, done the same. 

“What is the problem now, Andromeda?” Druella sighed as though her fully-grown middle child was unbearably troublesome.

“Mother, we've been married for years and I’ve reminded you again and again that Ted is vegan.” She hissed in response. Ted, for his part, looked very apologetic as he grimaced at the beautifully plated meal in front of him; the server hovering behind him with an expression nothing short of horror painting her features.

“So what is the issue?” Cygnus gruffed then, looking between the server, Ted, and Ted’s plate bemusedly. “You can still eat fish, yes?” 

“No.” Andromeda started, pinching the bridge of her nose as Ted shook his head and smiled appeasingly at the table. 

“It’s really alright.” He tried, reaching under the table to offer his wife an affectionate squeeze of her knee as he smiled gratefully at the server. “It looks wonderful, thank you.”

“That’s the problem with young folks these days.” Pollux offered rather unhelpfully. “Always making the rest of us cater to their needs.” 

“Grand-père,” Regulus started bemusedly, shooting you and Sirius a look, “that’s- we’re literally having a meal catered to us. The point of hiring a catering service is to be…catered to.”

Cygnus pished at his nephew as he picked up his own glass of wine that had since been poured on his behalf. “And the lot of you expect us to keep track of all these little things; such nonsense.” 

“I bet it wasn’t difficult to keep track of Lucy’s purple shampoo stocked in the guest bathroom for the one evening he’s going to be here.” Sirius muttered into his glass, causing you to snort a laugh that you quickly hid under a cough. 

“Something to say, Sirius?” Lucius asked darkly.

“I’ve truly never had a single thing to say to you ever, Malfoy.” Sirius responded simply.

“Enough unpleasantness.” Walburga called before Lucius could volley any insults Sirius’ way, clinking a fork against her glass to draw everyone’s attention to her. 

“Does she not know she’s the source of most of it?” Regulus whispered to you and Sirius, causing your mother to screech his name. 

“As I was saying,” Walburga continued, standing tall and proud and clearly reciting a script she’d no doubt fussed over for weeks that she meant almost zero percent of, “I’m very glad to have my home once again filled with all of those who mean the most to me.” 

“S’exactly what she said to me when I tried running away at 16.” Sirius whispered to Regulus quietly. 

“The holidays are a time of family, joy, and gratitude.”

“Not the words I’d use to describe tonight, but alright.” You added, earning you a smirk from your older brother as Regulus shook his head fondly at you. 

“And I am the luckiest woman on earth to get to spend it all with you.” Walburga concluded elegantly, earning her roaring applause from her father, her siblings, her husband, and two of her nieces and their husbands whilst the rest of you offered her a few short claps before picking up your forks and knives. 

“Matteo!” Bellatrix screeched in a tone not unlike your own mother dearest, craning her neck behind the other chairs to level her son with a glare. “Do not shove peas up your cousin’s nose!” 

“I wasn’t, mum!” Matteo assured her with a cheeky smile that was missing several teeth. With that, Draco shot a baby carrot from his left nostril as Nymphadora sneered at the two of them like she’d never seen anything more disgusting than the likes of her younger cousins. You’re quite sure you remember Andromeda sneering at Sirius and Regulus in a similar manner growing up. 

“Was a kids table really necessary?” Narcissa asked then as she turned her sights away from her son and back towards the ‘grown-up table’. “The three of them could have joined us here, no?”

“Hardly seems fair to poor Dora.” You agreed. “She’s nearly twice the age of the boys.”

“Yes well, if my children would grace me with grandchildren of my own, we wouldn’t need to argue about children’s tables, now would we?” Walburga huffed.

“Mother, you hardly like us as it is, why would you want more?” Sirius asked with a tired sigh. 

“It is not a mother’s job to like you, Sirius, it is to raise you. Did I not do that?” 

“Didn’t Creature do that?” Regulus asked you and Sirius.

“Mr. Beecher was a tutor.” Your mother corrected sternly. 

“Is that what you call Mr. Dobb’s, Cissa?” Sirius taunted his cousin from across the table, causing her to scowl at him and Walburga to hiss some vague threat at her eldest son.

“At least Narcissa graced her parents with a grandchild, boy.” Druella spat at her nephew before pointing a sickly sweet smile at her youngest daughter. 

“You might want to get to it, Y/N.” Lucius drawled, and Regulus watched as you landed a steely gaze on your cousin-in-law from across the table. “Your biological clock is ticking, you know.” 

“She may not know how to do it right, Lucius.” Rodolphus added, speaking about you as though you were no longer there. “A proper lady ought to be wed and with child at this point, no?”

“Oh please, Lestrange. As though you’re any better; we all know the child you’re raising is actually Riddle’s.” You spat, setting off a bomb at the immaculately decorated Christmas table. 

“How dare you!” Bellatrix screeched, standing from her seat as though readying to launch herself at you whilst Cygnus berated you for daring to speak of such unpleasantness in front of the children.

“I’m not sure if you remember, Uncle Cygnus, but the children have their own table; that’s sort of how this whole conversation started, yeah?” Regulus added, causing your uncle’s ire to be directed to him. 

“All I wanted was to spend one lovely evening with my dear family!” Your mother wailed as Rodolphus and Bellatrix continued spitting at each other in French, Narcissa cried over what had now become a terrible meal whilst Lucius consoled her, and the older generation argued over whose children were to blame for all of this. 

You shared a wry look with your brothers and Andromeda before Uncle Alphard toasted the four of you and Tonks - both of whom pulled out flasks of their own - as you all took swigs at the merriment that could only be found at 12 Grimmauld Place during the most wonderful time of the year. 

You and your brothers - the only adults save Alphard who dared to show up without significant others or children of your own - were forced to share a room. Fortunately for you, it was your childhood bedroom, which meant you got your old bed. Unfortunately for Regulus and Sirius, this meant that the two of them were forced to share a queen sized mattress on the floor.

It hadn’t been so bad, though, Regulus had to admit. That is until the sound of the bedroom door being flung open - nearly slamming into the brothers’ mattress - and two nine years olds screaming “Happy Christmas!”’s and “Santa came!”’s in their aunt and uncles’ faces startled you all awake. 

“Draco, you weigh a tonne.” You groaned as you tried to shove your towhead blond nephew off of your frame to no avail. “What are your parents feeding you?” 

“Broccoli.” Draco sneered as though it were a dirty word. 

“S’probably good then.” Sirius grumbled, trying to hide his face under the blankets though Matteo didn’t seem particularly inclined to allow his uncle such a luxury. “Sounds as though you deserve a mouthful of broccoli; right now, preferably.” 

That earned him “that’s rude!” being shrieked in a pitch that dogs in Wales probably heard. 

“Oi. Uncle Sirius?” Matteo asked; his bony little elbow digging painfully into Sirius’ side as Regulus shoved his nephew’s bony little knees from his side.

“What?” Sirius nearly sobbed. 

“Is Santa real? We tried to ask Dora but she wouldn’t tell us.” He asked then, causing Draco to nearly shake your entire bed frame from the force of his enthusiastic nodding.

“Yeah! Is Santa a lie?” 

Sirius finally pulled the blankets away from his face; his long hair terribly mussed from having been accosted by somehow sticky little hands (even though breakfast had yet to be served) and his subsequent sheltering under the covers, lines from the pillow case still etched into his cheek and sleep still crusting his eyes as he shared a downright devious look with his brother and sister.

“Sirius…” You started warningly.

“Don’t you dare.” Regulus added as sternly as he could muster. But Regulus could tell by the maniacal smile taking over his older brother's lips that it was too late.

“Well,” Sirius started, “you know what we always say…”

You let out a moan that sounded an awful lot like “oh dear god” as you covered your head with your pillow to shield yourself from the subsequent fall out. 

“...it’s not Christmas ‘til somebody cries.”

[stayteezdreams]

Ghost of Christmas Past

Plot: Due to circumstances neither of you could control, you and your first love were forced apart, never to see each other again. Or so you thought. Until one Christmas, years later, when fate decided to cross your paths again.

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Gn!Reader *no specific age is mentioned but the reader and Hongjoong are referenced to be within the 26-29 age range.

Warnings: Shitty parents, mainly shitty father. Both on Hongjoong's side and readers side, but Hongjoong's father gets better in the end.

Words: 4.5k

With all the strength you had, you tried to pull yourself away from your father's grip. You needed to get to Hongjoong, you knew you couldn't stop them from taking him away, but you needed to try.

At the least, you needed to say goodbye. To tell him you loved him one more time.

Seeing him being forced into his father’s car, your chest ached painfully as tears poured from your eyes.

"Hongjoong!"

As Hongjoong struggled with the man forcing him out of his home, his head snapped in your direction at the sound of your voice.

You were trying to get away from your father, who was holding you back. Your eyes were desperate, as tears streamed down your face.

Hongjoong pushed the man in front of him as he called out to you. "Y/n!"

"Hongjoong!"

Almost getting away, but being pulled back again, he cursed at the man, "Let me go! Y/n!"

As Hongjoong was forced into the car, he pushed and kicked, calling out for you again and again. His eyes burned as his heart broke. The car sped away, and he could do nothing but press against the window as he got one last look at you as you finally slipped from your father’s grip and you ran after his car.

You chased after the car until your lungs burned and your legs gave out. Watching as it disappeared, taking Hongjoong with it. His desperate pleading eyes from the back window being the last time you saw him.

As your alarm blared, your eyes shot open, the memory of Hongjoong being torn away from you fading as you rubbed your eyes. A familiar ache sat in your chest as you let out a sigh and turned off your alarm.

Sitting up on your elbows you thought back on your dream, well, it was more of a memory. In your dreams a few things often changed, sometimes your mother was there, sometimes Hongjoong broke free from the bodyguard and ran towards you, but never reached you. Sometimes you caught up with the car, but Hongjoong was no longer inside.

This time, it was almost exactly as you remember, though it had been nearly ten years since it actually happened, so it was all a bit fuzzy, though the pain of the moment forever remained.

Climbing out of bed you wondered why you dreamt of it, of Hongjoong. Maybe because it was nearing Christmas. It was around this time of year that he was taken away. You had a lot of plans for that Christmas, but you were torn apart instead.

As you slowly made your way through your morning routine, you couldn't help but relive the past. Your dream bringing forward the familiar ache of heartbreak.

You and Hongjoong were like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet, with a little less death of course.

Your parents hated each other, well, your fathers hated each other, your mothers were just along for the ride.

You and Hongjoong were taught from a young age that you were rivals, enemies, that you were to never be in the same circle. But that didn't last long. The second the two of you were able to think for yourselves, you realized just how stupid their rivalry was. Based solely on business and money.

In Middle School, you and Hongjoong ended up bonding over your annoyance at your parents. It turned into a friendship, which turned into a relationship a short time later.

By the time you were in High School, you and Hongjoong were in love, planning to run away together as soon as you were old enough. To live your lives together, away from your father's control.

Your relationship was held a secret until your third year of High School, when one of your fathers’ colleagues saw you together on a date. Once your father found out, all hell broke loose. You were forced to change schools, but that didn't keep you apart.

So lost in their own rivalry and hatred for one another, Hongjoong's father, when learning that you two would not be easy to separate, and growing more irritated with your father’s anger, decided to send Hongjoong away to attend school abroad.

That was the day you lost him once and for all.

One day, Hongjoong and his friend Seonghwa went back to his house after school. They were blind-sided when they arrived, finding all of Hongjoong's possessions packed up.

After learning what was happening, Hongjoong told Seonghwa to come get you. He wasn't sure he would be able to stop his father from sending him away. But if he failed, he needed to see you, he needed you to know he wasn't giving in without a fight. That he didn't want to leave you. He knew it would be his father's intention to make you think he left you.

You tried to get to his house to see him in time, but your father chased after you, stopping you just before you got there. So, all you saw was Hongjoong being shoved into a car and whisked away to who knows where.

For months you hoped you would see him again, find out where he was so you could call him, write him a letter, anything to get in contact. But your father's made sure no information about Hongjoong got to you.

Eventually, your father made a deal with another company and got transferred to another city. So, your whole life was packed up, and whether you wanted to or not, you were forced to leave the one place Hongjoong would know where to find you.

You spent hours trying to find where he ended up. Finally contacting Seonghwa, but learning his father even kept him in the dark. So, you never found him. Eventually, as time passed, the heartbreak faded into a dull heaviness in your heart.

When you eventually moved back to Seoul on your own, you found yourself outside of Hongjoong's childhood home. You weren't sure what you were really doing there. Nothing good could come of it. But you thought, maybe, just maybe, Hongjoong might be there.

But he wasn't.

The man living there ended up coming out to see what you wanted after he saw you staring up at his house from the road. He informed you that the family that had lived there before had moved a few years earlier, to where he had no idea.

Without any hope left, you gave up on ever seeing Hongjoong again. But Hongjoong was, and would always be, your first love. And whether you knew it was there or not, the hope that you might cross paths again one day would remain with you forever.

You had been in relationships since then, but none ever lasted very long. Even though you were an adult now, and knew your relationship with Hongjoong was founded out of childhood friendship and bonding, you didn't ever doubt, had you not been separated, you would have been together forever.

Stirring your coffee, you smiled softly as you looked out at the cold winter sky. Ever since you moved back here after college you had been alone. Your father remained harsh and mean, your mother uncaring. So, you spent most Christmases alone.

A familiar sense of melancholy and loneliness rested in your chest as you finally shook yourself from your thoughts to get ready for the day. Getting dressed; your eyes kept drifting to a red scarf in your closet. Giving in, you pulled it from its hangar and wrapped it around your neck. You ran your hands over it as you smiled at the memory it came with.

A scarf given to you by Hongjoong during the first Christmas you were dating. Yours and Hongjoong's initials were embroidered onto the ends. You wondered if he still had the matching one, he got himself.

Did he still think of you? Did he try to find you?

You sighed as you allowed the melancholic nostalgia to take over, knowing it would sit with you all day, just as it always did when you thought of Hongjoong.

As Hongjoong walked down the once familiar streets of the city, he felt an odd sense of melancholy. Many of the buildings and shops he knew were changed or demolished. The faces he once saw every day were replaced by strangers.

Stopping by the park he used to frequent; he looked around with a nostalgic warmth washing over him. He smiled as he saw the snow-covered roses. The snow was sudden, catching everyone, even the flowers by surprise.

He wasn't sure why, but they reminded him of you.

Beautiful, bright, but repressed under something so cold.

A melancholic yearning filled his chest as he thought of you.

A couple years after he was sent abroad, his father began to relax in his stubbornness. Maybe it was because he was aging, or the way Hongjoong shut him out after he sent him away, but he started to regret hurting him.

After he saw how heartbroken Hongjoong was, how distant he became after he lost you, he finally saw he was wrong. He apologized for forcing the two of you apart. For forcing a petty rivalry that went too far onto the two of you.

As a way to make amends, Hongjoong was allowed to return home when he wished. But unfortunately for him, it was still too late. You were gone. Your father whisked you away one summer, moving you to another city, and ending the connected rivalry between your families.

By the time Hongjoong's father found out where you were moved too, another way to try and make amends, you were gone. You had moved out of your family’s home and gone off on your own to only God knew where.

As sad as this made Hongjoong, he was also glad. Glad you were able to escape, glad you were able to be brave enough to leave. You deserved to be free. He only wished you found happiness along the way, even if it meant he wasn't a part of it.

Recently, he got a job back here in his hometown. Even though his family moved out of his childhood home some years ago, the area still felt like home.

Though he had no idea where you ended up, he had a hope that one day he might run into you on the streets you used to stroll down together.

You might not have any feelings left for him, you might be in a relationship, you might even be married. But he still hoped that he would find you again, if only to learn that you were happy. That would be enough for him.

No matter who he dated or for how long, you seemed to be the only one who would ever hold his heart. And he knew it would remain with you forever.

As Hongjoong looked across the park, his breath caught. He must be imagining it. It must be because he was thinking of you so much that he imagined it.

Even with this thought, Hongjoong's legs moved without hesitation. The hair color, the height, the scarf, the scarf. His quickened pace turned into a run as the figure disappeared into the crowd of passerby’s.

Your name was on the tip of his tongue, desperate to be called out, but forced into silence out of doubt. His eyes darted from figure to figure, but you were nowhere in sight.

He let out a shaky sigh filled with an ache he didn't know he still held so deeply.

"Y/n." Your name left his lips like a fading dream he was desperate to cling to.

It wasn't you. It was just his imagination. You weren’t here.

Taking a few deep breaths as he tried to get rid of the painful ache in his chest, he crossed the road, aware his eyes were still searching for you, though he knew you weren't there.

Absentmindedly he grabbed onto the embroidered scarf around his neck, gripping the soft fabric tightly as he walked down the sidewalk. Not knowing that if he had just looked back one more time, a familiar face would be turning back at that exact moment.

A tingle on the back of your neck told you to look, though you weren't sure for what. You had the most peculiar sensation that there was someone behind you, someone you knew. You turned expecting to see a friend or coworker, someone whose familiar presence you sensed. But none of the faces behind you seemed familiar.

Furrowing your brow, your eyes cast over the people walking around you, your eyes lingering on one figure for a moment longer than the others.

Shaking your head and deciding it was nothing, you turned back and continued to head to work, forgetting about the feeling almost as quickly as it crept up.

No matter how hard he tried to distract himself, Hongjoong's thoughts kept finding their way back to you. So lost in these thoughts, he continuously zoned out instead of working.

Jumping as someone smacked his shoulder, his eyes met Seonghwa's as he chuckled. "Why are you so distracted today?”

Hongjoong sighed as he spun back and forth in his chair, "I thought I say Y/n earlier, but I think I just imagined it."

Seonghwa let out a soft sigh, the memory of the day you last saw each other passing through his mind. He was just an onlooker, a friend with no power to intervene, but the scene hurt him. He knew how in love the two of you were, seeing you forced apart stuck with him all these years. Ever since he and Hongjoong agreed to work together here in their hometown, he knew Hongjoong had been looking for you.

He wished he knew where you ended up, but it was a mystery to him as well. "Are you sure you imagined it?"

Hongjoong leaned his head back, "I think so. I was thinking about them right before it happened. And I didn't see their face, I think they just reminded me of Y/n."

Seonghwa nodded softly as he gently patted Hongjoong's knee, "You're still in love with them, aren't you?"

Hongjoong looked back at Seonghwa and nodded, "We never had an ending. We were forced apart, the pain of that never allowed the feelings to die naturally. I can't help but hold onto them."

"Who knows, maybe Y/n will make their way back home one day. You did." Seonghwa said somewhat passively, not sure if the comment would help or not. He turned back to his own work, leaving Hongjoong to wonder if you hadn't already returned.

You stretched as you finally finished work, looking out at the soft falling snow. Taking out your phone to order an Uber, you hesitated before putting your phone back in your pocket. You would walk home. A walk in the snow might do you some good.

Your feet took you down a once familiar path as you set your eyes on the park you used to frequent. The slide and swings were covered in snow, no children in sight. It was out of the way, the opposite direction of where you lived, but you frequented this path on purpose many times. Just to remind yourself of the past.

The sky was a dark grey, the sun hidden behind sheets of clouds and snow. Kicking the snow from one of the swings, you sat down, swaying gently as you looked around the park.

You and Hongjoong had come here often in the past, it was your hide out spot to be together in secret. Youd bring snacks and stare up at the sky for hours.

'Why am I thinking about him so much today?'

You had an odd feeling in your gut ever since you had woken up from your dream this morning. Assuming it would fade you continued on with your day, but it only got heavier. Did something happen to him? Was your connection still so deep that you felt it?

Your wandering thoughts caused the pit in your gut to grow as you began making yourself worry about something you couldn't know the answer to. Sighing as you looked around, your eyes paused on the snow-covered roses. You smiled at the sight, finding it both sad and beautiful.

Hearing footsteps crunching in the snow, you began to look for the source of the sound, your heart leaping as a voice called out right as you spotted the person approaching you.

"Y/n."

He hadn't imagined it, it was you.

After work, Hongjoong declined Seonghwa's offer for a ride home, deciding he wanted to walk back home for some reason.

Wanting to walk through the park again, maybe to bring back some fond memories of you. The last thing he was expecting was to actually see you.

But there you were, sitting on the same swings the two of you used to frequent years ago. Your scarf wrapped tightly around your neck as you swayed gently back and forth.

As he approached you, his heart was pounding so heavily he feared it might stop all together. You were older, obviously, but he could tell it was you from a mile away. You were the same, you were Y/n, his Y/n.

Your name left his mouth like an unspoken secret desperate to be told. "Y/n."

How was it possible? How could he be here? Right now, at the same time as you? Was it really him? Of course it was, he looked the same. It couldn't be anyone else.

"Hongjoong?" His name was barely audible, but just loud enough that the sound of it made his heart jolt painfully in his chest. He had dreamt of hearing you say his name again for so long.

Suddenly, standing from the swing, your heart was beating wildly as your stomach fluttered nervously. The two of you stared at each other, as if afraid you might disappear with the slightest movement.

"How- Why are you- What?" Your voice was bewildered as you tried to put together what was happening.

Was this why you were thinking of him so much today? Could you feel that he was close by? That he was here. Was that even possible?

He took a tentative step towards you, his breath shaky. "I thought I saw you earlier today, but I convinced myself I imagined it, but you're here. You're right here."

He seemed just as perplexed as you, as if seeing you was the last thing he expected, but far from the last thing he wanted.

Thinking back to earlier in the day when you felt as though someone was looking at you, you wondered if that was what you felt. Had he been so close without you knowing?

"How long have you been back?"

You asked, nervously filling the silence as a thousand questions and words filled your brain.

"A couple weeks. You?"

"A few years."

He let out a sigh, he should have come back sooner.

His eyes scanned over you as familiar emotions washed over him again. He let out a soft chuckle as he couldn't help but grin. He met your eyes, and you saw them shining a bit brighter as so many emotions passed through them.

"You look good. Are you? Doing good, I mean?"

You nodded softly, letting a smile form on your face as well. "I'm..." you hesitated, even after all this time you felt like you couldn't lie to him, you never could. But you should. This wasn't the same anymore, was it? "I'm good."

Hongjoong's heart dropped at this. The tone of your voice so familiar to the childhood sweetheart that hid all their hardships as to not worry him.

His smile turned sad as he walked closer to you, stopping a few feet away. "Liar."

Taken aback by the sudden familiarity of his reaction you let out a sharp chuckle before covering your mouth. His smile turned into a grin again as his heart fluttered. Your smile was something he feared he would never see again.

Before you could speak, his arms were suddenly engulfing you. You caught your breath as you froze in his embrace.

As the smell of his cologne washed over you, you felt a familiar warmth and comfort you had long since forgotten.

"I missed you." His voice was soft, but burdened with emotions you felt the familiar sting of.

It had been ten years, but he still felt like home.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around him, tears stinging your eyes as you whispered back. "I missed you too."

Hongjoong felt a heavy weight in his chest disappear as he tightened his arms around you. He finally found you again, he finally found his way home.

You weren't sure how long you stood there in each other's arms before you finally pulled away from each other. You swallowed nervously as he stared at you, studying your features.

He placed his gloved hands on your cheeks as he wiped away a stray tear. "We have so much to talk about."

You nodded in agreement, excited that so many questions could finally be answered.

"I have a question first though." He said softly and you rose your brow. "You aren't dating anyone are you?"

You paused for a second before you laughed. That was not what you were expecting his first question to be. You shook your head. "No, I'm not."

He grinned, a familiar mischievous twinkle you used to swoon over. "Good." Taking your hand in his he squeezed it before he met your eyes again. "Come with me."

Taking the lead, he led you out of the park and down the street. Even though you didn't know where he was taking you, you didn't care. In the past you would have let him lead you to hell and gladly follow him, and you learned quickly, those feelings hadn't really changed at all.

Sitting at Hongjoong's kitchen counter, you held your hand up, "Okay so, basically, your dad felt bad about what he did and let you come back home, but by then I was gone. Then, he tried to find me, and when he did, I was already gone again. And then by the time I came back here, you had left again??"

Hongjoong nodded and you let out a soft sigh as you spun your mug of cocoa around in your hands. "I wonder how many other times we missed each other that we don't know about." You mumbled and Hongjoong huffed softly as he sat back down in the chair beside you.

“Considering what happened today, probably a lot.”

You chuckled, "It's like fate was playing with us."

As you took a sip of your drink, Hongjoong admired you. You were still you, he was still him, it still felt the same, though the feelings in his heart weren't so childish anymore.

You and Hongjoong had spent the last couple of hours talking about what happened since the day he was sent away. And just as quickly as you met again, any awkwardness between you seemed to fade away.

Leaning back in your chair you let out a soft sigh, "I'm glad your father changed. He always seemed to love you but had such a weird way of holding it against you."

Hongjoong nodded with a soft smile, glad too, that his relationship with his father had changed for the better. He couldn’t help but wonder how he would react to learning the two of you had been reunited.

"What about your father? What's he like now?"

You shrugged, "No idea. When I chose to go to university for what I wanted instead of what he wanted, he basically disowned me. The last time I talked to him was about a year ago, and all he said to me was 'Don't spend all your time with friends, do your job since you were so determined to leave for it.'" You scoffed after you mimicked your dad’s tone.

Hongjoong frowned at this, "And your mother?"

"She texts me occasionally asking how I am, but I don't know how much she actually cares. I was in the hospital a couple months ago and when I told her she just told me to be careful not to miss too much work."

Hongjoong sat up quicky, "You were in the hospital, why? What happened? Are you okay now?"

You stared at him with mild shock before you laughed and waved your hands, "I'm fine! I just had a really bad fever and passed out at work."

His eyes widened even more, "'You just had a fever and passed out'? 'Just?!' That's not fine!"

You laughed again before you felt a sudden wave of emotion causing you to look away from him. You giggled softly, and Hongjoong heard a hint of sadness behind it.

"You needed me, and I wasn't here."

You looked back at him with a questioning gaze, and he looked at you with a sense of guilt.

"I was the only one who made sure you took care of yourself. You always get so caught up in what you are doing and trying to be what your parents told you to be, that you forget about your own health. And your parents still don't give a damn. You needed me, I'm sorry."

You tilted your head as you smiled softly at him, "It wasn't your fault Hongjoong. And besides, it was just one bad moment. I'm a lot better at taking care of myself, you'd be proud of me!"

His frown became a smile at this. Reaching out he gently caressed your face. "I am. I'm proud that you didn't let them tear you down. That you didn't give into your father's wishes. That you took your own path even if you were alone on it."

Turning in his chair so he was facing you, he gently grabbed your legs and turned you to face him as well.

"But you aren't alone anymore. I'm here now. And if you want me, I'll stay. I'll be by your side again. There's nothing that could take me away from you now."

Memories of Hongjoong leaving flashed through your mind. Mixtures of hurt, relief, heartbreak and joy washing over you.

"Of course I want that Hongjoong. You were my first love, my home, and those feelings never went anywhere. They were still here, in my heart. They were just staying dormant until we found each other again."

He cupped your face again as he smiled, his voice was a soft whisper "My first love. My only love. I'll stay with you forever this time."

You felt tightness in your chest as your eyes brimmed with tears. "Promise?"

Leaning closer, he nodded softly as he whispered "I promise" just before his lips met yours in a kiss both of you had been waiting ten years for.

No matter how long you would have had to wait, ten years, twenty, fifty, your heart would always belong to Hongjoong. Even if the wait was painful and long, fate was kind enough to bring you back together. And nothing would separate you again.

xx End xx

I'm pretty happy with how this one came out, even if I couldn't get it down exactly how I wanted.

((Taglist Form))

12 Days of Christmas Taglist: @multi-fandommaniac, @mbruben-stein

General Taglist: @charmsprout, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669,

@tinyelfperson, @pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,

@shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie, @alexxavicry

Ateez Taglist: @soso59love-blog, @hongjoongsprincess, @thedistractedwriter, @dear-dreamie, @thunderous-wolf,

@briqnne, @hyukssunflower, @dinossaurz, @skz1-4-3, @carattinymoa,

@demonlineslut, @vnessalau, @dancinglikebutterflywings, @tunafishyfishylike, @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

[yeollie-plz]

12 Days Of Pedromas ‘23

Starting December 14th, I am going to be doing a post everyday until Christmas to celebrate Pedro and the holiday season!

Extra info here!

Day One: Hate sex with Costar! Pedro Pascal

Day Two: Virgin! Reader x dbf! Joel Miller

Day Three: 3some with Frankie Morales and a special guest

Day Four: Phone sex with Pedro Pascal

Day Five: Wedding night and breeding kink with Joel Miller

Day Six: Cockwarming with Din Djarin

Day Seven: Pool Sex with Exhibitionist! Agent Whiskey

Day Eight: Lactation Kink! Joel Miller

Day Nine: Stripper! Reader x Javier Pena

Day Ten: Pegging with Oberyn Martell

Day Eleven: One night stand with Frankie Morales

Day Twelve: Rough sex with Din Djarin

Make sure to keep an eye out for all the posts and enjoy reading! 😉

Main Pedro Masterlist

[lupinsweater]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

James Potter x Latina!Reader 🎁 1.2k words

← part one part three →

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆ ꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You were frustrated.

Ever since your apartment complex had gotten a new postman in January, your mail had been getting mixed up. At the beginning, it had been a logical mistake. By now, though, you almost expected to see the name “James Potter” printed across the packages you had outside your door.

James lived in apartment 210- it was one of the nicer ones on your floor that had been newly remodeled. You lived in apartment 218 (which had not been newly renovated, and was much cheaper). James’ nice new apartment number had a fancy little slash through the 0, and your apartment number was falling apart- the middle of the 8 had chipped away, making it more like a 0.

You’d been leaving each other’s mail outside your doors, which worked fine, but it had been a nuisance, to say the least. Now that it was December, the thought of Christmas packages getting mixed up was just too much. Throwing on a jumper and grabbing the package you had received for James that morning, you marched down the stairs towards the front desk. If you could see your reflection, you were positive you would see steam coming out of your ears.

What happened next was fully your own fault. You had been known to have a one track mind, and today was certainly no exception. That’s how you found yourself slamming face first into a very handsome, very angry man.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, stumbling backwards and fumbling with the package in your hands. The handsome man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he reached forward to grab your waist to stabilize you.

“I’m so sorry-”

“That was totally my fault-”

You both chuckled awkwardly, and he removed his hand from your waist, grinning sheepishly. He held it out to you as he said, “James Potter. I’m so sorry again.”

“Oh! James!” You said. He furrowed his brows in confusion, and you blushed, quickly amending, “Sorry. Our mail just keeps getting mixed up.” You reached out to shake his hand, giving him your name as you did so.

His eyes lit up in recognition. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a few letters with your name on them, and you handed him the package.

“Bit ridiculous that this keeps happening, isn’t it?” James chuckled awkwardly as you pocketed your mail. You groaned, despite yourself.

“Tell me about it. I was just heading down to the front desk to complain about it again. I’m not sure what more they can do about it, but it just needed to be said.”

“Oh, brilliant! I was just going to do the same thing,” James said, grinning brightly. His smile could have lit a whole room, and you could feel your cheeks flush. “Why don’t we go down together? Maybe it will be more effective that way.”

“Alright,” you said with a nod, smiling at him in a way you hoped wasn’t too awkward. The two of you made your way over to the elevator, and he followed you in, pressing the button for the lobby as he did so. You were grateful your apartments were only on the second floor- the elevator ride was only a bit uncomfortable. When you reached the ground floor, he gestured for you to exit first, and he followed you over to the front desk. James slipped around you, and leaned against the desk casually.

“Good morning, Mrs. Pince,” James said, winking at the older woman playfully. She hardly looked up from her computer as she replied.

“Mr. Potter. To what do I owe the immense pleasure?” she said dryly. James deflated slightly, and you bit back a laugh.

“Well, you see, it’s about my mail…” James started sheepishly. She looked up sharply from her computer, sighing impatiently at him.

“I’ve already told you, Mr. Potter, there’s not much more I can do. You could try waiting for the mailman, but he isn’t consistent with his delivery times. I’m afraid you might be out of luck.” She began typing again, clearly dismissing him.

“Please, Mrs. Pince,” you pleaded, pushing him out of the way slightly to come up to the desk as well. She looked up at you and sighed again, turning to face you with a glare that made you shrink into yourself. “This has been an issue since January. It’s December. Surely you can talk to the mailman when he comes tomorrow?”

“As I just said to Mr. Potter, there’s nothing else I can do for the two of you,” she repeated flatly, turning back to her computer. She pushed her glasses up her pointy nose as she said, “It seems the two of you know each other well enough, anyways. I can’t imagine it’s that much of an issue.”

You huffed, opening your mouth to yell at her, but James grabbed your arm quickly, giving you a warning glance and tugging you away from the desk. As he guided you back towards the elevator, you grumbled.

“What was that for? I was about to give her a piece of my mind,” you said, glaring at him. He just shook his head.

“Yelling at her won’t change anything, besides giving her a reason to try to get you evicted,” James said patiently. “Besides, she’s stubborn. If she refuses to talk to the mailman, then there’s nothing else we can do about it.” The elevator arrived again, and he nudged you inside, pressing the button to your floor.

“I hate that you’re right,” you mumbled, kicking at the elevator floor lamely. James smiled.

“Hey, it’s not so bad. At least we’ve met now- I don’t feel weird knocking on your door to give you your packages. I don’t want any Christmas things to get stolen.”

You nodded. “That was my biggest concern. Maybe I’ll try leaving notes on my door again, too. Not that it helped last time.”

James laughed. “Hey, I did that too. Maybe the mailman can’t read.”

You snorted unattractively, then clamped a hand over your mouth, wide-eyed. James raised an eyebrow, clearly fighting back a grin, and you felt your cheeks heat up again.

“Well, if we’re stuck with this mess, at least we can make the best of it,” he said, leaning casually against the elevator wall. His easy confidence was almost contagious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly. “I mean, it’s been eleven months of mixed-up mail. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of forcing us to be friends.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in mock skepticism. “Friends, huh? I don’t even know what kind of mail you get, James Potter. For all I know, you could be ordering dodgy stuff off the internet.”

James feigned a look of scandalized offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “Dodgy stuff? I’ll have you know, I’m an upstanding citizen! My mail is nothing but perfectly respectable Christmas decorations, thank you very much.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and James grinned triumphantly. When the elevator doors opened again, you both stepped out and lingered in the hallway, neither of you in a hurry to leave.

“Well,” you said, clutching the mail in your hands, “I guess I’ll see you the next time the postman gets it wrong, which will probably be tomorrow.”

James sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “At this point, I feel like we should just swap keys so we can handle this ourselves.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Right, because that wouldn’t be weird at all.”

He smirked. “Okay, bad idea. But seriously, if this keeps up, maybe we should leave a complaint together. A united front might do the trick.

You shrugged. “We can try. Though judging by Mrs. Pince’s reaction just now, I’m not holding my breath.”

James nodded in agreement. “Fair point. I guess we’ll just keep playing mail roulette for now. At least it keeps things interesting.”

“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” you muttered.

He grinned, stepping back toward his apartment.

“Alright, well, see you at the next hand-off. Maybe next time we’ll get lucky, and the mailman will actually deliver things correctly for once.”

“Don’t jinx it,” you said with a small smile.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he called over his shoulder as he turned toward his door. “Have a good night!”

“You too,” you replied, heading back to your apartment.

As you stepped inside and set the mail down on the counter, you felt some of your earlier frustration ebb away. Sure, the constant mix-ups were annoying, but at least now there was a friendly face—and a pretty attractive one, at that—to go with the name on all those packages. Maybe dealing with the mail wasn’t going to be as much of a hassle as you’d thought.

[moonlight-records]

Family photos| MV33 (HAC #12)

pairing: mv33 x reader

summary: it's the holiday season and what better way to get into the holiday season than some family photos??

warning: fluff!

fc: none!

wc: 818

a/n: day 11 of moonlight records holiday advent calendar!

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 | day 10 | day 11 | current day | day 13

“Babe have you seen–what’s going on here?”

You hum gently as you continue working on the task at hand. Thankfully, Sassy gives you no issue as you slip the dark blue Christmas sweater onto her before gently scooping Jimmy up who purrs happily in your grasp. You let him sniff the sweater before getting it on him and turn, smiling at your boyfriend. “Oh babe! Just in time!”

“In time for…?” Max walks over and admires his two babies in their sweaters. Picking Sassy up, Max takes this chance to look the sweater over and laughs softly, “is this a Red Bull sweater?” He glances at you.

“It’s a Red Bull Christmas sweater,” you correct, “did you not focus on the can of Red Bull having reindeer antlers on them? It’s also embroidered.” You watch Max hold Sassy up again who becomes a noodle as he laughs because you’re right. “Babe this is–greatly bad. Where did you find this?” He asks and you smile proudly, “I didn’t. I had the idea and told Daniel to make them with creative freedom and this is what he created.” You smile wider hearing Max laugh as he puts Sassy back on the couch. “Here!” You say as you present Max with a box.

“Isn’t it a bit earlier for Christmas presents?” Max jokes as he takes it. You give him a look as Max who holds a hand up before unwrapping the ribbon. “It was an innocent question,” he argues as he opens the box. Putting the box down, Max holds the sweater up and laughs loudly. “Oh my god, schat. Did you let Daniel make my sweater as well?” He asks, looking at the sweater he has, which is an embroidered version of young Max, when he first joined Red Bull, dressed as an elf . You hum in agreement as you show Max your sweater, “He also made mine.” You say holding yours up which is an embroidered family portrait, each of you dressed in some Christmas/Holiday variation. You were Mrs. Claus, Max was an elf, Sassy was a snowman, and Jimmy was a reindeer. Max snorts as you get up and kiss his cheek. “Now come on! Put them on so we can go!”

This is probably your best idea ever. You watch Sassy and Jimmy sniff around as Max is talking to the photographer. The photographer seems to be very entertained by the matching sweaters. You make your way over to the set sitting down as Sassy and Jimmy immediately come over to you. Sassy is still exploring while Jimmy sits in your lap, looking up and starting to tell you all about this new environment. You smile while petting Jimmy and nodding, answering as if you’re having a whole conversation with him. You hear some clicking and look up as the photographer takes a picture while Max stands next to him, smiling. “Perfect.”

“Uh huh. Get over here and join the photos.” You tell Max.

“Yes ma’am.”

You two get some pictures with Sassy and Jimmy crawling over you and Max. Then, with the help of Max and the laser pointer, get some of Jimmy and Sassy being cute and silly. Then just some of you and Max though half of them are you and/or Max looking down at one or both cats running around your feet or the shock of Sassy silently climbing one of the cubes on the set and launching herself onto Max’s back, scaring the poor Dutchman as you hit the floor laughing while Sassy climb Max’s back, perching on his shoulder and meowing softly. You also make a point to take some awkward family photoshoot photos just for fun. 

Max tips the photographer when you guys are finished while you are coaxing Jimmy and Sassy into their carriers. Jimmy is a bit easier after you smother him with kisses but Sassy is refusing to go in without a fight. You manage to get her into her carrier and pick them up as Max comes over, kissing your temple and taking the carrier from you as you two walk out. 

“Well, that was fun.” You remark as you open the door for Max, who gets the cats into the car. Closing the door gently, he turns and gives you a quick peck before opening your door and closing it before climbing into the car. “Minus Sassy trying to give me a heart attack,” Max looks to playfully glare at his beloved fur daughter. You laugh as Max starts the car, “shall we pick up dinner and head home?”

“That would be, um,” you pretend to think as you wave a hand, “as you would say, simply lovely, yeah?”

Max deadpans to you and you fight a smile seeing the rather annoyed and unimpressed look on his face before he shakes his head, chuckling. “You’re so annoying.” He says lovingly.

“I know.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

You're a Fucking Dickhead

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Soulmate | Word Count: 1894 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Soulmate AU, College AU, Modern AU, Meet Cute, Or: Meet Ugly, Soulmarks, Invisible Strings, Hijinks Ensue, The Universe Had to Work Overtime on These Two

I actually got assigned the prompt "soulmates" on both of my Christmas and New Year's bingo cards. Instead of trying to double-up, I decided to just make them companion pieces. Here are the links to both:

Part 1: Steve POV | Part 2: Eddie POV | Also on AO3

They are intended so they could be read standalone, but I wrote Steve's first, so I suggest starting here if you want to read both.

Steve pushes his sleeves up, realizes, and pushes them right back down despite it being sweltering in this auditorium. As much as he prides himself on being confident in his own skin, on being exactly who he is, no apologies, this little three inch line of text scrawled on his arm is the bane of his whole existence. He hates it. 

Robin glances over at him, and gives him a raised eyebrow. Yeah, yeah. He had promised he would cut it out once they were at college, but fuck, old habits die hard. He's only a senior. Maybe he'll go to grad school and he can stop hiding his arm then. Plenty of time.

"I know," he hisses at her, and he's told himself over and over that someday he won't care. That someday he'll just let it all hang out. So what if his so called soulmate is out there somewhere waiting to meet him, only to say: You're a fucking dickhead!

Yeah, sign him up for that. Not.

No matter who it is, Steve isn't interested. He's going tell them to fuck right off. If he ever meets them. He hasn't yet, and he's not exactly frothing at the bit to do it soon.

He focuses back on the professor, and he's almost made it through undergrad. Six more weeks. He can do this.

"A frat party? Steve. No," Robin says, and Steve is just nodding.

"Steve, yes," he says, smiling wide. "We'll get some bathtub punch, maybe bum a joint. C'mon. Maybe we'll even get laid."

"Dingus, the odds of me getting laid at a frat party are negative seventy-five thousand."

"Then let me get laid. Rob, please. For me," and he gives her the eyes. They always work, and he spins around after she reluctantly nods her consent to his plan. 

"You've gotten laid plenty," she argues.

"That's patently untrue," he lies. "I'm in a dry spell."

"It's been four days."

"It gets mighty cold at night," he says, and she laughs and pushes him, but she'll go.

He might not have good soulmate prospects, but he does have the best best friend a guy could ask for, and his charm, which he's applied liberally all up and down the eastern seaboard.

So, yeah. Tonight is gonna be awesome, he just knows it.

Tonight is not awesome, Steve thinks, as he's shoved so hard he stumbles. The guy is bigger than him, but honestly just caught him off guard. Steve doesn't know what the fuck his problem is. It's a party. They're supposed to be having fun. But this? This is not fun.

All Steve did is walk by, and now he's fucking stumbling like he's drunk, which unfortunately he is not since he hasn't even had one drink yet, but his balance is already a distant memory. He catches his shin on the edge of a coffee table, and that really fucking smarts. Then, he's going down. There's no other possibility. No way to catch himself.

"Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!" Steve shouts, sliding over the table on his knees, tipping over cups and bottles, knocking everything in his path off to the hardwood floor with a clatter, before finally coming to a stop with a thud on top of the person sitting on the couch. That's fucking embarrassing.

"You're a fucking dickhead!" The guy under him laughs while patting Steve's back, and it sounds amused, not angry. But those words. Those are his words. Steve freezes. But not for long, because he's unceremoniously being shifted and dumped into the lap of the guy on the right. 

Big blue eyes, and a mop of curls, looking down at him, asking, "What'd you say?"

"Huh?" Steve asks, trying to right himself.

Oh. The guy — his soulmate? — wasn't talking to him. He was talking to the guy who shoved him.

"What did you say when you literally fell in Eddie's lap?" he asks.

Eddie. His soulmate's name is Eddie. Steve has no fucking clue what he said, but he's guessing that whatever it is, it's scrawled somewhere on Eddie's body and his friend here knows that. 

Steve's ignoring ol' blue eyes, and trying to turn to get another glimpse of Eddie, to see what he's doing, to see if he's gonna fight for his honor or some shit.

He's not fighting, but he does have the guy in a headlock. But they're both laughing. What the fuck is happening right now?

"What the fuck, Goods? You just laid that poor guy out, say you're sorry," Eddie is telling the dude who shoved him. Who looks far less scary with his head tucked under Eddie's armpit. He's all red-faced and curly-headed, squirming, but looking amused. 

"I'm sorry," the shover laughs out, and Steve is still trying to slide off the other guy's lap. "It was an instinct! A remnant from high school. Get bullied, push back, that's what you always said!"

His supposed soulmate knows the asshole that knocked him clean off his feet for no good reason? Well, that's just great. Very promising. He knew he was in for a bad time with the words alone, and now he's been knocked clean off his feet, and not in a good way.

"He was bullying you?" Eddie asks, face looking serious.

"I was not!" Steve says. He's never even seen this guy before. He walked by him in the crowded room, and then was shoved.

"He stepped on my foot!" 

Eddie laughs, "He stepped on your foot, so you shoved him in my lap?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd mind!"

"What's going on here?! I just went to the bathroom, there wasn't even a line!" Robin screeches. "Now Steve is sitting in Gareth's lap? How do you know Gareth? You can't sleep with Gareth!" Robin is rambling, talking with her hands, flailing and fluttering with all her might. 

How do you know Gareth? Steve thinks. 

She's all worked up. Well, she can join the club.

"I'm fine. We're fine, I think? I'm not sleeping with Gareth?" Steve says, but his voice trails upward, unsure. 

"Not a question. Absolutely not. No offense," Gareth says, and well, that's kinda rude.

"Look what you've done, now you've made his girlfriend mad," Eddie says, still not releasing the guy who caused this whole situation. 

"Ew, gross. Not my boyfriend," Robin says, way too fast. 

"She's a lesbian," Gareth says, and Steve wants to wheel on him. Gareth better not have a problem with that, but Steve can only fight one battle at a time, and Robin offending him always takes precedence.

"Don't be so disgusted," Steve complains, and then turns to look back at Gareth, "Same for you. I'm a catch."

"Do you still have a dick?" Robin asks, her go-to response in this situation. He knows the script.

"What she said," Gareth adds.

"I still have a dick," he confirms quietly.

"Well, we're all glad to hear it," Eddie says, finally letting his friend go. 

Another guy walks up, looks between all of them, "What's going on?"

"Jeff?" Robin questions.

Robin knows Jeff? Who's Jeff?

"Hey, Robin," Jeff says

"How do you know Jeff and Gareth?" Steve asks, whoever the fuck they are, but he's being ignored.

 "Oh, Jeff, you picked the exact worst time to wander off. Short story: Goodie pushed this guy—"

"Goodie's here, too?" Robin interrupts.

Gareth keeps talking, "—and get this, turns out, this dude is Eddie's soulmate."

Eddie turns his head, "What'd you say? Gareth, why do you think…" he trails off, and then looks down at his arm.

"You're Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker?" Jeff asks, as if that's Steve's legal name.

Steve laughs, "Well, I prefer Steve, but I'll answer to anything, I guess."

Everybody laughs.

"Jeff, help me. Eddie tried to take my head off my neck," Goodie complains. Which, honestly, the nerve. He started this whole fiasco. Steve was minding his own goddamn business.

"You pushed my soulmate. You got off easy, my child," Eddie says, circling Goodie, clearly teasing him. 

Eddie. Gareth. Goodie. Jeff. Steve's putting these names to faces, because he's afraid it might all be important later. Maybe forever. 

These people are a circus and a rodeo all rolled into one. 

He feels sick to his stomach. In a good way? A bad way? He isn't sure. All this time, and he still somehow wasn't ready for it. This scenario wasn't even in his wildest of dreamed up scenarios. Yeah, he got pushed. But his proposed soulmate doesn't appear to be a total dickhead either. 

"Let me see," Steve says quietly, a demand more than a question, and Eddie stops what he was doing, stepping closer. His arm is right out there, uncovered, for all the world to see. And that's for sure his own handwriting.

Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!

Plain as day.

Steve reaches out and brushes his thumb against Eddie's mark, and suddenly he feels like he's riding lightning.

"Holy shit," Eddie says.

"Uh, yeah," Steve answers. 

"Wanna get out of here?" Eddie asks, and Steve is nodding before Eddie's finished asking. 

His body feels warm.

But Robin, "I'm with Robin. I need to-"

"Nope, dingus. Go. I'll ride with Jeff. Or Gareth. Or Goodie," she says. "I can take my pick. I know them all."

"How do you know Jeff, Gareth and Goodie?" Steve asks, because he feels like he's losing his mind.

Jeff waves. So the other two follow suit.

"Jeff and I have had like a thousand classes together," Robin says, and Jeff is nodding in agreement. "We studied together all last year. Do you not recall all the, 'I'm going to study at Jeff's' that I said, week after week?"

Steve shakes his head. He does not.

"You were in our house! All the time!" Eddie says, pointing at Robin. "I have seen you before! I knew you looked familiar!" 

"Yeah, obviously," she says, rolling her eyes, "Anyway. Gareth's in my film class. And Goodie's in the marching band."

Steve feels like he's going insane. He got pushed by a marching band geek? Then there's Eddie, his soulmate, and apparently Robin's just been running in Eddie's whole goddamn circle without his knowledge. What? How?

He can't. Not right now. He needs to process this later. Maybe with a flow chart pointing out all the invisible strings that have been forming, trying to connect them.

"You'll get her home safe?" Steve asks, because that's all that matters.

"They will," Eddie assures, and puts his palm in the middle of Steve's back. Steve can feel it even through his shirt.

Steve looks back at Robin, slightly helpless. 

She takes a step forward, "If you don't-"

"I do," he interrupts, "I do."

He really does.

"Gross, go then," she says, holding up her hands, and when Eddie takes a step forward to lead them out, he goes.

Steve sneaks looks at Eddie as they make their way through the crowded house. He's pretty. Not what he'd expected, not that he'd ever really had a good mental picture of what his soulmate might look like. He'd been too focused on the harsh words, that he hadn't tried to form them into a real person.

Eddie's real.

He's so fucking real.

They step out into the night, and Eddie stops on the sidewalk, meeting Steve's eyes, smiling wide, "Your place or mine?"

Read Eddie's POV next.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 💞

Notes: I don't think I've written soulmates before, so I'm not sure if I've stayed with the trope or veered into left field, but I know I had fun with this one. I loved the idea that their first words in each other's presence would be something so unhinged, lol. And Goodie shall never let either of them forget that their soulmarks were spoken to him not each other.

[rosyhoneydew]

Christmas Time is Here

Bucktommy ❅ G ❅ 4,198 words ❅ cw: N/A

“Please, Buck? I would drop everything and help but I swore I’d help Jennifer out tonight.” “Who’s Jennifer?” There’s the sound of a kerfuffle in the background when Maddie lifts the phone away from her ear. The approaching holidays mean the most chaotic time of the year for all first responders. Buck’s honestly impressed Maddie had the time to remember she had agreed to chaperone Jee’s Christmas pageant rehearsal at all, much less call Buck to ask him to cover for her. Or: the teacher!Tommy Christmas pageant AU

read on ao3

[temporarywelcome]

12 Fics of Christmas Day 5 - Kyle Spencer

"Arts and Crafts"

Words: 1k

Summary: Kyle loves making Christmas gifts, going a little overboard with making presents for reader. She begins to feel neglected, unaware of what he is doing.

____

Everyone knew this guy was whipped. 

Kyle Spencer, the frat leader who was actually the world’s biggest sweetheart, was sat in the back of Tulane’s library with scissors and construction paper, carefully looking at a YouTube tutorial as he attempted to make his lovely girlfriend another unique Christmas card. The fourth he has made. 

It’s not like he had messed up on the others. He just planned on giving her four Christmas cards, or maybe even more, depending on how much time he can find for himself till Christmas Day. 

He loved giving gifts, and he especially loved giving them to his girlfriend, so he didn’t mind being hunched over a table with his brows furrowed, concentrated on the video while his homework stayed stuffed in the bottom of his bookbag for him to deal with later. Expertly cutting a straight line, Kyle paused when he saw a notification pop up on his phone. A call. From Y/N!

Setting down the scissors and paper, Kyle answered, “Hey, baby! What’s up?” he noticed another student glaring at him for being loud, causing him to flush. ‘Sorry’, he mouthed. 

“Just finished up with a class,” she chirped in response.

“Ah, anatomy, right?” he asked, now whispering. He had her schedule memorized at this point. 

“Yep! I was wondering if we could go to the cafe together?” 

Kyle pursed his lips, looking down at the project in front of him. He already had the glue gun ready and running, a mess of little knick knacks around him. “Um, how about another day?” he asked, biting his bottom lip. 

Y/N took a moment to respond, “Oh… Yeah, that’s fine! I’ll talk to you later?”

“I’ll talk to you later, baby! I’ll call you, promise,” he assured her, “I love yooooou,”

“Love you too, babe,” she laughed quietly before hanging up. 

Putting the YouTube tutorial back on, Kyle set down his phone and went back to work, determined to make the perfect card for his girlfriend. 

____

With a deep sigh, Y/N slipped her phone back into her bag, a slightly annoyed expression forming on her face. She and Kyle haven’t had a proper date in two weeks, and she was starting to get worried.  Was she doing something wrong? Or maybe he was just busy studying for finals that were coming up for the semester?

Or…

Was it possible Kyle found someone new?

No, of course not. He was a sweetheart, and everyone could agree. If he had lost feelings for her, he would tell her. As nervously and gently as possible, but he would tell her. He wouldn’t leave her hanging. 

So what the fuck was going on?

Maybe he was beginning to realize he didn’t want her anymore? He was trying to figure out how to tell her?

She didn’t know what it was, but she was beginning to feel a bit insecure. Okay, very insecure. But she won’t ever admit it. Never. The only thing that kept her a little at ease was that Kyle was missing frat parties too, so whatever he was busy with must actually be important. 

Unless he was making sure his new bitch was a secret.

Really, Y/N? Are you hearing yourself? This is Kyle Spencer! He could do no wrong. You bagged the sweetest guy on the planet. 

She was still worried.

____

Another week had passed, and Kyle was seated on his bed, humming to himself as he carefully built a Lego set of flowers, another thing to add to the growing collection of Christmas presents he had ready for Y/N. The set came with a pot and everything, the flowers in her favorite colors. It was perfect. 

A knock sounded on his door and he looked up, “Yeah, Mom?”

His mother slowly opened the door, “Y/N is here to see you,” she told him, glancing at the Legos he was diligently working on. 

He bit his bottom lip, looking at the little pieces he had thrown around, “Um, tell her I’m not feeling well, please,”

“She’s right behind me,” her mom deadpanned, and he awkwardly looked away, clearing his throat as his mother stepped aside to reveal a pissed off Y/N. 

“Shit,” Kyle mumbled to himself. Noticing Y/N storm off, he scrambled to his feet, slipping past his mother and down the stairs, “Y/N Baby, wait! Come on!”

“Fuck off,” she grumbled over her shoulder, marching straight out to the door. 

He sighed, following her down the porch and grabbing her wrist, “Can you at least listen to me?”

“You wanted your mom to lie to me and tell me you’re sick while you’re fucking around with fucking Legos?” she snapped, whirling towards his direction, “We haven’t had a proper date in three weeks, Kyle! Three fucking weeks! What the hell have you been doing this whole time?! Are literal Legos more important than your girlfriend?” 

“No no no,” he placed his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes, “Those Legos are for you, babe,”

“...what?”

Kyle chuckled softly, resting his forehead on hers, “This is our first Christmas together so you don’t really know how I am with that but… I go a bit crazy. I’ve been making you presents all month,” 

She paused, eyes darting around as she processed his words. He was making her presents. All month. That sounds like a whole ass load of presents. “All month?” she repeated.

“Yes, babe. You thought I was ignoring you for shits and giggles?” he laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Nah, you just kept calling me at the worst times,”

“Oh…” Y/N trailed off, “I feel stupid,”

He shook his head, “No, you had every right to be suspicious. I should have made more time for you so it wasn’t so obvious something was up. I’m sorry. How about I take you out right now, babe?” 

A small smile formed on her face and she nodded, giggling as he placed a soft kiss to her nose, “Okay,”

___

Tags:

@envy-of-greed @bohnerrific69 @loveofcherry

[23victoria]

gingerbread cookies!

pairings: 𝓯1 𝓰𝓻𝓲𝓭 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

word count: 3.8𝓴

synopsis: 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓾𝓼𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓴𝓲𝓭𝓼

authors note: 𝓭𝓪𝔂 1 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓼! 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂! 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼, 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!!

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST F1 CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

Lewis

The kitchen is already buzzing with excitement. Lia’s tiny voice fills the room as she sits on the counter, clapping her flour-covered hands while her big brother Leo drags a chair to the counter so he can reach the mixing bowl. Lewis stands next to you, grinning from ear to ear, his apron slightly already dusted with flour. You’re armed with a rolling pin and a smile, ready to face the inevitable chaos of baking gingerbread cookies for the first time as a family.

“Alright, team,” Lewis says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s make some gingerbread magic happen.”

“Cookies, Daddy!” Lia cheers, throwing her arms in the air. The sudden movement sends a puff of flour into the air, and both you and Lewis cough, laughing as the powder settles.

“Cookies, yes, princess,” he says, scooping her up and planting a kiss on her flour-speckled cheek. She giggles and squirms, and he sets her back down on the counter. “But first, we have to mix the dough. Leo, you ready to be my sous-chef?”

Leo’s chest puffs up with pride. “Yes, Dad! I’m ready.”

You hand him the wooden spoon, and he gets to work mixing the dry ingredients. You and Lewis guide him, taking turns measuring out the cinnamon, ginger, and cloves while Lia alternates between sneaking handfuls of flour and trying to “help” by stirring.

“Lia, no eating the flour,” you say gently, pulling her flour-covered fingers out of her mouth. “It doesn’t taste good yet.”

She pouts dramatically, her big brown eyes shining with mischief. “But I’m hungry, Mommy!”

“You’ll get cookies soon,” Lewis assures her, ruffling her curly hair. “But first, we have to make the dough.”

The dough comes together quickly, though not without a few mishaps. Lia accidentally dumps too much sugar into the bowl, prompting a quick rescue mission from you and Leo. Lewis adds a bit too much molasses, which makes the dough stickier than it should be. But the laughter and teamwork make up for any imperfections.

When it’s time to roll out the dough, you dust the counter with flour and hand Lia a miniature rolling pin. She takes her job very seriously, rolling the dough with all her might, even if it’s uneven and full of tiny fingerprints.

“Look, Mommy! I’m a chef!” she announces proudly.

“You’re the best chef,” you reply, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Meanwhile, Leo focuses intently on cutting out shapes with the cookie cutters. He’s careful and precise, his tongue poking out in concentration as he presses a star-shaped cutter into the dough.

“Good job, buddy,” Lewis says, giving him a fist bump. “That’s a perfect star.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Leo says, beaming.

Of course, it’s not long before things start to spiral into delightful chaos. Lia, bored with rolling dough, begins decorating her face with flour, creating what she calls a “gingerbread mask.” Leo accidentally knocks over the bowl of sprinkles, sending colorful candies skittering across the floor. And Lewis, in his attempt to “help,” manages to get icing on his nose and eyebrows.

“You’re supposed to decorate the cookies, not yourself,” you tease, laughing as you wipe a smear of icing off his cheek.

“I’m just setting the vibe,” he quips, leaning in to kiss you. Before his lips can meet yours, Lia interrupts with a loud, “Ewwww, Mommy and Daddy are kissing!”

You and Lewis laugh, pulling apart but not before he winks at you. “We’ll finish that later,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear.

Finally, the cookies are ready to go into the oven. You let Leo and Lia take turns placing the tray in with Lewis supervising closely.

As the cookies bake, the smell of ginger and cinnamon fills the kitchen, making everyone’s mouth water. You’re wiping down the counter when Lia tugs on your sleeve.

“Mommy, can we make hot chocolate?” she asks sweetly, her flour-covered face tilted up at you.

“Of course we can,” you say, lifting her off the counter and setting her on the floor. “Let’s get the mugs.”

By the time the cookies are ready, the four of you are sitting at the table, sipping hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. The cookies, though slightly misshapen, are delicious, and Leo takes great pride in pointing out which ones he decorated.

“This one’s mine,” he says, holding up a star-shaped cookie covered in lopsided icing. “And that one’s Lia’s.”

“It’s so pretty,” Lia says, clapping her hands. “Just like me!”

Lewis bursts out laughing. “You’re not wrong, princess.”

As the evening winds down, you survey the mess in the kitchen: flour on the counters, sprinkles on the floor, and sticky fingerprints everywhere. But the sound of your children’s laughter and the sight of their frosting-smeared faces make it all worth it.

“We’re definitely doing this again next year,” Lewis says, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Absolutely,” you agree, leaning into him.

The kids, now on a sugar high, start a game of tag around the table, their giggles echoing through the house.

Charles

The twins are perched on either side of the kitchen island, their little hands eager to dive into the pile of cookie cutters and bowls of colorful icing. Jules, ever the perfectionist, carefully lines up the cutters, his brow furrowed in concentration. Alessandro, on the other hand, is already elbow-deep in the flour, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Papa, is it like this?" Jules asks, holding up a perfectly shaped gingerbread man. Charles leans over, his green eyes sparkling with pride. "C'est parfait, Jules! You’re a natural."

You’re busy rolling out another sheet of dough when Alessandro lets out a frustrated huff. "Mine broke!" he exclaims, holding up a decapitated gingerbread man. Tears threaten to spill as he glares at the dough.

Before you or Charles can intervene, Jules slides his own gingerbread man over to his twin. "Here, Ale. You can have mine. I’ll make another one," he says softly, his tone filled with understanding.

The gesture melts your heart. Charles places a hand on your back, his expression a mix of pride and tenderness as he watches his sons. "They’re good boys," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Alessandro sniffs, accepting the cookie with a shy smile. "Thanks, Jules. You’re the best brother."

The rest of the baking session goes smoothly, with Alessandro taking his time to mimic Jules’ careful technique. The boys work together to decorate their cookies, laughing as they sneak tastes of icing and sprinkles. Charles manages to snap a few candid photos, capturing the flour-streaked faces and genuine smiles that light up the room.

When the cookies are finally done, the twins proudly present their creations to you and Charles. "Look, Mama! Papa!" they say in unison, holding up their plates of colorful gingerbread men.

"Magnificent!" Charles declares, pulling the boys into a bear hug. "You two are master bakers."

You smile, wrapping your arms around your little family, your heart has never felt fuller.

Carlos

The kitchen is a whirlwind of chaos and laughter as your three little ones dive into the gingerbread-making process. Ruby, your five-year-old, takes charge immediately, carefully measuring out ingredients with her tongue poking out in concentration. Marco, who is four, is more interested in sneaking tastes of the dough, while Roman, your three-year-old, is determined to use every single cookie cutter at once.

"Mama, can I do the sprinkles now?" Ruby asks, holding up a shaker of red and green sprinkles. Before you can answer, Marco bumps into her, causing the shaker to topple over and coat the counter in a glittering mess.

"Marco!" Ruby scolds, her lower lip trembling as she surveys the ruined sprinkles.

"Sorry!" Marco says quickly, his big brown eyes wide with guilt. Roman, sensing the tension, toddles over to Ruby and wraps his little arms around her waist. "Don’t be sad, Ruby. We help," he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Marco nods earnestly, grabbing a dishcloth. "I’ll clean it up, Ruby!"

You exchange a look with Carlos, who is watching the scene unfold with a soft smile. "Our little team," he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

With Ruby’s spirits lifted, the three kids work together to fix the mess. Marco carefully wipes up the spilled sprinkles while Roman hands Ruby a new shaker. "Here, Ruby. You do it better," he says, his tiny voice full of sincerity.

Carlos crouches down to help Ruby and Marco roll out the dough again, his hands guiding theirs as they press the cutters into the soft surface. Roman, meanwhile, has discovered the joy of throwing flour into the air, creating a fine white mist that settles over everyone.

"Roman!" Carlos exclaims, laughing as he tries to stop the little boy. But Roman is too quick, and soon even Carlos’ dark hair is dusted with flour.

By the time the cookies are finally baked and decorated, the kitchen looks like a tornado has passed through. But as you sit on the floor with Carlos and the kids, nibbling on warm gingerbread and sharing stories, the mess feels like a small price to pay for such a perfect family moment.

Max

The kitchen feels extra cozy as little Mia, your three-year-old daughter, toddles up to the counter on her step stool. She clutches a rolling pin almost as big as her, her tiny tongue peeking out in concentration.

"Dada, I’m making a big cookie!" Mia announces, pressing down on the dough with all her strength. Max chuckles, standing beside her. "A big cookie for a big girl, right?"

You’re sifting flour when Mia suddenly sneezes. A puff of flour rises into the air, landing on her nose and cheeks. Her eyes go wide in surprise before she bursts into a fit of giggles.

"Dada! I’m white!" she exclaims, pointing to her face. Max grins and taps her nose with his finger, adding another smudge of flour. "Now you look like a snowman!"

"Mama, I’m a snowman!" Mia declares, holding out her arms for you to see. You laugh, wiping your hands on a towel before leaning in to kiss her floury cheek. "The cutest snowman I’ve ever seen."

As Mia works on her giant cookie, Max decides to get creative. He scoops a bit of icing and dabs it on your nose, earning a playful glare from you. "Max!"

"What? It’s Christmas spirit!" he says innocently, though his mischievous grin gives him away.

Before long, the kitchen turns into a playful battlefield. Mia joins in, flinging tiny handfuls of flour at both you and Max. Her giggles echo through the room as Max lifts her up, spinning her around to evade your “retaliation” with a handful of sprinkles.

When the cookies are finally in the oven, the three of you are covered head to toe in flour, sprinkles, and icing. Mia sits on Max’s lap at the kitchen table, munching on a leftover piece of dough. "Dada, can we eat the cookies now?" she asks, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Soon, angel," Max says, brushing a strand of flour-dusted hair out of her face. "First, they have to bake."

As you all wait, you take a moment to snap a photo of your messy but happy little family. The kitchen might need serious cleaning, but the memories made within its walls are priceless. Once the cookies are out of the oven, cooled, and decorated with Mia’s enthusiastic smears of icing and an overload of sprinkles, she proudly holds up her "big cookie."

"Look, Mama! Dada! My cookie is so pretty!" she beams, her little chest puffed out with pride.

"It’s the best cookie I’ve ever seen," Max says earnestly, leaning down to kiss her cheek. You nod in agreement, wrapping an arm around both of them.

"Absolutely. This one’s going in the family hall of fame," you tease, already planning to snap another picture. The three of you sit down to enjoy the sweet treats together, your hearts full despite the flour-coated chaos surrounding you.

Lando

The kitchen is a whirlwind of flour, sugar, and laughter as you and Lando attempt to make gingerbread cookies with your four-year-old daughter, Celeste. Standing on her little stool by the counter, she’s already covered in flour from head to toe, her tiny hands eagerly grabbing at the cookie cutters. Lando leans close to her, his face alight with a mixture of amusement and pure adoration.

“Alright, baby,” Lando says, handing her a star-shaped cutter. “Press it down nice and hard, just like this.” He demonstrates with a gingerbread man cutter, and Celeste mimics him with all the determination of a toddler on a mission.

“I did it!” she announces proudly, holding up her slightly lopsided star. Her big green eyes shine as she turns to you for approval.

“That’s perfect, baby girl,” you say, brushing a bit of flour off her nose. “You’re a natural baker.”

Celeste beams, and Lando’s grin widens as he grabs another piece of dough. “She takes after me,” he teases, earning an eye roll from you. “What can I say? Talent runs in the family.”

“Oh, does it?” you reply, arching a brow as you sprinkle a little flour onto his cheek. Lando gasps dramatically, grabbing a handful of flour and tossing it into the air like confetti. Celeste squeals with laughter, clapping her hands and sending a puff of flour everywhere.

“Lando!” you scold, though you’re laughing too.

“What? She started it,” he says, pointing at Celeste, who giggles even harder.

When the cookies are finally in the oven, the three of you sit at the table with bowls of icing and sprinkles. Lando takes one look at the little tray of cookies and shakes his head. “I think these might be the most... abstract gingerbread cookies ever made.”

Celeste holds up a cookie she’s decorated with three blobs of icing and a pile of red sprinkles. “It’s a snowman!” she says proudly.

Lando’s face softens, and he nods. “The best snowman I’ve ever seen,” he says, leaning over to kiss her flour-dusted cheek.

You watch as Celeste happily eats her cookie, her tiny teeth nibbling away at the edges. Lando’s eyes never leave her, his expression so full of love it makes your heart ache. “She’s perfect,” he murmurs, reaching over to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

As Celeste finishes her cookie, Lando scoops her up into his arms, spinning her around until she’s giggling uncontrollably. He plants kisses all over her face, making her squeal and squirm. “Daddy, stop! It tickles!”

“Never!” Lando declares, holding her close and laughing along with her.

By the end of the evening, the kitchen is a complete mess, but you wouldn’t trade the chaos for anything. With Celeste snuggled up between you and Lando on the couch, her tiny hand clutching a gingerbread star, you feel like the luckiest family in the world.

Oscar

The kitchen is calm but buzzing with a quiet excitement as your twins, four-year-old Odessa and Ocean, stand on their step stools by the counter. Odessa’s brows are furrowed in deep concentration as she carefully presses a gingerbread man cutter into the rolled-out dough. Ocean, on the other hand, is humming a Christmas tune, sprinkling flour on her side of the counter with as much flair as possible.

"Mommy, look! Mine has arms this time!" Odessa says proudly, holding up her perfectly shaped cookie. You smile and nod, brushing a bit of flour from her cheek.

"Great job, honeybun! You’re getting really good at this."

Oscar, standing nearby with a mixing bowl in hand, chuckles softly. "'s precision is unmatched," he says, ruffling Odessa’s dark brown curls before turning to Ocean. "And Ocean, are you making snow angels or cookies?"

Ocean giggles, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Both!" she declares, throwing a puff of flour into the air. It lands on her hair, turning her into a mini snow queen.

Oscar shakes his head, amused, and places the bowl down to help. "Alright, let’s focus on the cookies before we lose the rest of the flour," he says, guiding Ocean’s tiny hands to press a star cutter into the dough.

"Daddy, do you like stars or trees better?" Ocean asks, glancing up at him.

Oscar pretends to think for a moment. "Hmm, I think I like stars better because they remind me of you and Odessa—my two brightest stars."

Odessa rolls her eyes in good-natured embarrassment. "Papa, that’s so cheesy."

You laugh, nudging Odessa gently. "Sometimes cheesy is good, honey."

As the cookies bake in the oven, the four of you sit at the table, readying bowls of icing and sprinkles for decorating. Odessa picks up a piping bag, her little hands steady as she carefully outlines her gingerbread man’s shirt. Ocean, meanwhile, goes for an avant-garde approach, covering her cookie with every color of icing she can reach.

"Ocean, your gingerbread man looks like a rainbow exploded on him," Odessa comments, tilting her head as she examines her work.

"It’s called art," Ocean replies with a dramatic flip of her flour-dusted hair.

Oscar hides a grin behind his hand, leaning over to whisper to you. "She’s got your sass."

You laugh softly, watching your little ones pour their hearts into their creations. When the cookies are finally finished, Odessa presents her gingerbread man with a proud grin. "Look, Daddy, it’s you!"

Oscar inspects the cookie’s neat icing tie and buttoned shirt, his eyes crinkling with delight. "Wow, Odessa. You’ve made me look very handsome."

"And this one’s Mommy!" Ocean chimes in, holding up a colorful cookie that’s practically drowning in sprinkles.

You gasp playfully. "Ocean, I’ve never looked better."

The evening ends with all four of you sitting on the couch, enjoying your gingerbread creations and a Christmas movie playing softly in the background. Odessa leans against Oscar’s side, and Ocean cuddles in your lap, both happily munching on their cookies. As the glow of the Christmas tree lights flickers across the room, you catch Oscar’s eye. He smiles at you, the warmth in his gaze saying everything words can’t.

The kitchen may be clean now, the flour swept away and the cookie cutters put back in their drawers, but the memory of this perfect family moment will linger long after the last crumb is gone.

Sebastian

The kitchen is lively with chatter as Sebastian stands at the counter, helping your children, Tommy, Jamie, and Ambria, shape gingerbread cookies. Jamie, determined to make the perfect reindeer, furrows his brows in concentration while Ambria giggles, sprinkling flour onto the table—and accidentally onto Sebastian’s hair.

"Ambria," Sebastian says in mock seriousness, brushing flour off his curls, "are you trying to turn me into a snowman?"

Ambria bursts into laughter. "You’d make the best snowman, Papa!" she declares, tossing another puff of flour into the air. Jamie snickers, but his focus remains on his dough.

"Alright, alright," you interject, smiling as you place a tray of freshly shaped cookies onto the counter. "Let’s save some flour for the actual baking, shall we?"

Sebastian grins at you, his green eyes sparkling. "They’re creative, what can I say?"

The oven hums as the first batch of cookies bakes, filling the air with the warm, spiced scent of gingerbread. Jamie and Ambria lean against the counter, eagerly watching the timer count down.

"Papa," Jamie says, glancing up at Sebastian, "why do we always make gingerbread cookies at Christmas?"

Sebastian kneels to Jamie’s level, his hands resting on his son’s flour-dusted shoulders. "Because it’s a tradition," he explains gently. "It’s something we do together as a family, so that every Christmas, we can remember these moments."

Ambria tilts her head thoughtfully. "Like a memory we can eat?"

Sebastian chuckles, pulling her into a hug. "Exactly, my little philosopher."

When the cookies are done, the decorating begins. Ambria meticulously decorates each cookie with colorful icing and sprinkles, while Jamie opts for a simpler approach, carefully outlining each one. Sebastian joins in, creating a gingerbread version of each family member.

"This one’s Mama," he says, holding up a cookie with icing hair that matches yours. "Beautiful, just like the real thing."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Seb."

Later, as the cookies cool, the four of you sit around the Christmas tree with mugs of hot chocolate, the lights casting a soft glow around the room. Ambria snuggles into Sebastian’s side, her head resting on his shoulder, while Jamie leans against your arm, holding a gingerbread cookie shaped like a snowman.

"These are the best cookies we’ve ever made," Ambria declares, her voice sleepy but content.

Sebastian smiles, pressing a kiss to her hair. "That’s because we made them together," he says softly, his gaze meeting yours.

In that moment, surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the scent of gingerbread, you realize that these simple traditions, messy, flour-filled, and full of love, are what make the holidays truly magical.

Jenson

Your home is filled with the chaos and warmth only a family of seven can create. The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity as your five children—eleven-year-old Orion, nine-year-old Brandon, eight-year-old Killian, four-year-old Isabella, and one-year-old Luna—all take their positions around the counter. Jenson stands at the center, his sleeves rolled up and a mischievous grin on his face, ready to lead the troops.

“Alright, everyone,” Jenson announces, clapping his hands. “We’re making gingerbread cookies. Team Button, are you ready?”

“Yes!” Orion and Brandon shout, already reaching for the flour and rolling pins. Killian grabs a handful of cookie cutters, examining them with the precision of a race engineer. Isabella bounces on her stool, her excitement contagious as she claps her flour-dusted hands. Luna, perched safely in her highchair, babbles happily, smacking her little fists against the tray.

You laugh, standing back for a moment to watch the organized chaos unfold. “This is either going to be amazing or a complete disaster,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter.

Jenson winks at you. “It’ll be both,” he replies confidently.

Orion, the eldest and self-appointed leader of the kids, takes charge of measuring the ingredients. “Dad, do we really need this much cinnamon?” he asks, holding up the spice jar.

Jenson pretends to think deeply. “Hmm, cinnamon makes everything better, so maybe add just a little more.”

Brandon nudges Orion with a smirk. “He just wants an excuse to eat more cookies.”

Killian, meanwhile, has commandeered the cookie cutters and is lining them up in a perfect row. “We need a reindeer, a star, and a Christmas tree,” he declares. “And maybe a race car, if we can make one.”

“A race car?” Jenson grins, his eyes lighting up. “That’s my boy.”

Isabella, not to be outdone, grabs a rolling pin and starts flattening the dough with all her might. “I’m making the biggest cookie ever!” she announces, her tiny hands working with determination. You step in to help guide her efforts, laughing as she sticks her tongue out in concentration.

As the dough begins to take shape, Luna decides she’s had enough of just watching. She smacks her tray again, this time sending a puff of flour into the air.

“Luna wants to help too,” you say, lifting her out of the highchair and handing her a soft piece of dough to squish in her tiny fists. She giggles, smearing it across her cheeks like war paint.

“She’s starting her own cookie war,” Jenson jokes, snapping a picture on his phone.

Once the cookies are cut and placed on baking sheets, the decorating begins. Orion and Brandon focus on intricate designs, their competitive streaks coming out as they try to outdo each other. Killian, ever the perfectionist, takes his time with each cookie, ensuring every sprinkle is in its rightful place. Isabella opts for a more abstract approach, piling on as much icing and candy as possible. Luna, of course, eats more sprinkles than she applies, her little face sticky with sugar.

“Look at this one,” Jenson says, holding up a gingerbread man with a green icing bow tie. “This is Uncle Lewis. What do you think?”

The kids burst into laughter. “He needs sunglasses!” Orion suggests, grabbing black icing to add the finishing touch.

When the cookies are finally done and cooling on the racks, the kitchen looks like a snowstorm of flour and sugar has hit it. Jenson surveys the mess with a chuckle. “Well, we might need a pit crew to clean this up.”

“I’ll help, Dad,” Brandon volunteers, grabbing a dishcloth.

“Me too!” Killian chimes in, his perfectionist tendencies extending to tidying up.

As the cleaning begins, you notice Isabella carefully placing her cookies on a plate. “These are for Santa,” she explains, her voice serious. “He needs the best ones.”

“And these are for us,” Orion says, holding up a tray. “Because we’re the best cookie makers in the world.”

Jenson wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as you watch your children’s teamwork and laughter. “We did good, didn’t we?” he murmurs.

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah, we really did.”

That night, after the kids are tucked into bed, you and Jenson sit by the Christmas tree, sharing a plate of gingerbread cookies and a quiet moment together. The chaos of the day lingers in the best way, filling your heart with warmth and love.

“Same time next year?” Jenson asks, a playful glint in his eye.

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “Definitely.”

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽! ❥☽ @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon-blog @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @jimcarreyfann42 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @goldenroutledge @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @flowerpetalk @paucubarsisimp @its-elias-world @magixpracticality @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[marvelobsessed134]

Happy Christmas, pet

This is part of my 12 days of fics

Pairings: Dom!Wanda Maximoff x Sub!Reader

Warnings: g!p Wanda, degradation, use of the word pet, blowjob, Wanda cums on readers face

Summary: in which your wife gives you an early Christmas present

“Come over here detka.” Your wife’s voice sounded from in the bedroom. Even after two years of marriage she still gives you goosebumps. And drenches your pussy with just her voice.

You walked in the bedroom to see her sitting on the edge of the bed with a box. It was a reasonable size. “Hi, pet. I thought I’d give you and me an early Christmas present.” You smiled but were confused. What does she mean ‘and me’? You didn’t have much time to think about it sense she was shoving the box towards you.

Taking it from her, you sat on the bed next to her and opened the lid. Under some tissue paper was a red velvet, sexy Santa type costume. It had a crop top with white trim on it. And a short skirt with the same trim on the bottom. Your jaw dropped. “Oh Wanda…it’s…”

“Go on, speak up Y/n.” She purred in her Sokovian accent. You gulped, looking her in the eyes. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

The brunette smiled, “I’m glad you like it. Now why don’t you go try it on for me.” Your eyes widened but you nodded quickly, heading into the connected bathroom to get changed.

You were now on your knees in the outfit, looking up at Wanda she stroked her large cock in front of you, precum leaking from the tip.

“I want to watch you sick my dick in this outfit, got that baby girl?” She asked and you nodded.

Taking her cock in your hand you stroked it slowly before putting your mouth around the tip, taking more of it in your mouth, and bobbing your head. You stroked the parts you couldn’t reach, massaging her balls as well.

“Such a good slut. So pretty sucking my cock.” Wanda groaned. You continued suck her off, your pussy getting wetter and wetter. “Come on, gag on it pet. Take me deeper.” The witch growled and grabbed the back of your head, forcing your head down. You gagged around the base of her length before being able to take it out of your mouth. You continued your assault on her dick, knowing that she was close.

The brunette pulled out of you and jerked herself off, her cum landing on your face and chest. “Fuck, love my cum all over your face. Such a cumslut. You’re my cumslut right pet?”

“Yes Wanda,” you pitifully, “I’m yours you own me.”

“That’s right pet. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Christmas Cookies | Hongjoong

❄️ Pairing: Dad!Hongjoong x Mum!Reader ❄️ Requested by: Anon ❄️ Synopsis: Making christmas cookies with the family doesn't go to plan. ❄️ Word Count: 1,203 ❄️ Warnings: None. I tried to make this as different from Cookies that I wrote last year as I could. I also used the family from Interruption/Corruption but this is like set in the future kinda. ❄️ Taglist: Open. I am renewing my tag lists for 2025. Please read this post if you want to stay on them- tag list renewal (dec 01-31 2024).

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Hongjoong steps into the kitchen hoping to find something to eat, instead his eyes widening at the sight of his wife and daughter covered in flour, while their little boy, not even a year old, snoozes peacefully in a carrier on his mother's back. Scattered across the kitchen counters is ingredients and utensils to make Christmas cookies.  

"What's going on here?" He asks, gaining the attention of his small family. 

"Appa, come make Christmas cookies with us!" Eun-ae says excitedly, dropping the cookie dough that's in her hand on the counter. 

"Honey, you do realize we have a baker who can make cookies for us, right?" Hongjoong replies, surveying the mess before checking the time on his watch. "And it’s nearly 11:30 PM. Why are you both still awake?"  

"She was asleep, but then she had a nightmare," Y/N explains recalling the moment she rushed to Eun-ae's room, heart racing and gun in hand at the sound of her daughter's terrified cries. Relief washed over her when Eun-ae told her she had a scary dream. Their daughter wouldn't tell her what it was about but refused to calm down until Y/N promised her that daddy wasn't far from coming home. "I thought baking Christmas cookies would be a good distraction until you got home." 

"And what about our little guy?" he asks, taking off his suit jacket and grabbing an apron from the hooks by the door.  

"He woke up shortly after," she replies. "He wouldn’t settle back down either."  

"Well, he’s out cold now," Hongjoong says tying the apron at the back and peering into the carrier as he joins them. He smiles seeing his son sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the floury chaos his sister is creating. "What do you need me to do?" he asked Eun-ae, who was clearly leading the cookie-making operation. 

Eun-ae's eyes light up with joy as she points to a bowl filled with cookie dough. "Can you roll that out so we can make shapes with these?" she asked, directing her tiny finger toward the array of cookie cutters laid out before her. All of them are Christmas themed shapes. 

"And Eomma will clean up a bit," Y/N adds, reaching for the paper towels. As she starts tidying up, she steals a glance at her husband and daughter, watching him roll out the dough while Eun-ae picks out her favorite shapes. A smile spreads across her face. Despite it being so late, moments like these are what makes everything she does for her family seem worth it and she'll do it all over again if she had too.  

Once the cookies are baking in the oven and the kitchen counter is much tidier, Y/N feels Eun-chan starting to stir awake. "Joong," she softly calls to her husband who's watching the cookies bake with Eun-ae as she rambles on about what colour she wants to ice them. "I think Channie's waking up," she informs him as he turns to look at her.  

"Step back a little. I don’t want you to get burned," Hongjoong cautions Eun-ae, noticing she has she's moved a little too close to the oven. After she steps back, he makes his way over to Y/N, looks inside the carrier, finding Eun-chan's big brown eyes staring right back him and lifts him out as Y/N unbuckles the carrier, taking it off. 

Hongjoong cradles him close, whispering lyrics to a song that make the baby coo softly, his tiny fingers curling around his father's shirt as he nestles his head against his chest. It doesn't take long for Eun-chan to fall back into a peaceful slumber, his little breaths steady and calm. 

"I should go put him back in his crib," Y/N says quietly, not wanting to disturb her son's sleep. 

"I can do," Hongjoong assures her. "You just sit down and relax while the cookies bake."  He presses a quick peck to her lip before disappearing out of the kitchen after promising Eun-ae he'll be back in a few minutes.  

When Hongjoong re-enters the kitchen fifteen minutes later, he finds Eun-ae in tears for the second time that evening. "What’s wrong?" he asks, a bit alarmed, taking in his daughter’s distraught appearance while Y/N looks a bit disheartened.  

"I think we might have messed up the recipe," Y/N explains, putting on the oven mitt and pulling the tray of cookies from the oven. The cookies have completely lost their shape, turning into blobs of melted cookie dough. The once-promising batch of cookies now resembled a chaotic, gooey mess rather than the perfectly shaped treats they had envisioned.  

Hongjoong's eyes widen in surprise, and he quickly moves closer to inspect the disaster. "Oh no," he murmurs, trying to suppress a chuckle at the sight. "What happened?"  

Y/N sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I think I might have mismeasured the flour. I was distracted by Eun-chan waking up and..." She glances at Eun-ae, who is still sniffling, her big eyes glistening with tears.  

Eun-ae wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, her disappointment evident. "But I wanted to decorate them with red and green icing! Now we can't even do that!" she cries, her voice trembling.  

Hongjoong kneels down beside her, his expression softening. "Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. Sometimes things don’t go as planned, but that doesn't mean we can't make the most of it," he tries to assure her. "How about this, we decorate these ones, make them all nice and pretty and then we can enjoy them with milk. Then tomorrow I can talk to Mrs Lee and ask her if you can help her make some more cookies. How does that sound?" 

Eun-ae sniffs, her tears slowing as she considers his words. "You really think we can make them look nice?" she asks. 

"The three of us doing it together, I think we can," he smiles. 

"Okay, Appa," she agrees even though her expression is sceptical.  

Hongjoong picks her up and carries her to the kitchen counter, placing her on one of the stools. "Now let's make these cookies pretty again," he says, confidently picking up one of the icing bags. 

I am renewing my tag list. Please read this post - tag list renewal (1st-31st Dec) - if you want to remain on the tag list.

already renewed:

@carattinymoa - @ateezswonderland - @forever-atiny - @choppedballoondetective - @rainyday-daydreamer 

@ultrapinkvoidbouquet - @reiofsuns2001 - @alexxavicry - @hollxe1 - @bookswillfindyouaway

-

2024 taglist.

@katzline - @treehouse-mouse - @jedi-dreea - @green-agent - @tinyelfperson -

@yeonjunnie – @laylasbunbunny – @deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3 - @everythingboutkpop -

@oddracha - @http-gyu - @skittyneos - @pinkpunkdynamite - @keshivibes -

@katsukis1wife - @jjoongstar - @arki-sha - @lixisoul99 - @do-you-remember-summer-127 -

@catzachvsvt - @lemur46 - @bygoodness - @ateez-atiny380 - @reayahnadeem2

[stayteezdreams]

White Elephant

Plot: Your friends decided to switch up the rules to your game of White Elephant. Instead of winning a mystery gift. You go on a date with someone else in the circle.

Pairing: Chwe Hansol | Vernon x Gn!Reader

Note: White Elephant is a game you play by using gifts (each player usually brings one, so only you know what is inside). Whoever goes first (however order is decided) picks a present, each following person has the choice to either steal someone else's present, or pick a new one. Whoever's present is stolen can then either pick a new one, or steal one. Each present can only be stolen three times. Whichever present you end up with at the end of the game is the one you get. *rules may change depending on how you want to play, these are just the ones I know.

A/N: I loved the idea I had for this, but I kind of hate how it came out, especially the ending. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Words: ~3.5k

As you said goodbye to a few of your friends as they left, you thought to yourself when a good moment for you to excuse yourself for the night would come. You had been at your friends’ party for a few hours now and you could feel the exhaustion starting to sink in.

You had your fill of Christmas themed food, desserts and drinks. Sang along to an obnoxious amount of Christmas songs, and even won second place in the ugly sweater competition.

You were thoroughly Christmas-ed out.

"Okay! One more game!!" The host called out, and you let out a soft sigh, you had waited a bit too long. You guess you would leave after this game, whatever it might be.

"Since we had a couple-centered game earlier, now is time for the singles game!"

'Actually, maybe I should leave now.'

You and one of your closest friends Vernon shared a look across the room. This would be something neither of you would enjoy and you knew it.

Raising your hand, your friend acknowledged you as you spoke with an amused, yet meek tone. "Can I be excused?"

She frowned and shook her head, "Nope."

You sighed as you hung your head, earning laughs from everyone around you. But your ears only really noticed Vernon's familiar chuckle.

She clapped her hands as she started to pass out identical note cards. "Write your name and then fold it three times."

You frowned, but did as you were told, wondering more and more about what she had planned as she walked around with a hat to collect the names.

"Though the game might sound familiar, the results will be different. White Elephant."

There were murmurs and questions throughout the room. There would be a total of 12 people playing.

"We'll play it like a normal game of White Elephant, but instead of presents, it’s your names."

"And what happens with the name we get?" Your friend Joshua spoke up.

Your friend grinned and you felt your chest tighten. "You must go on a date with the person you have written on your card at the end of the night!"

Your mouth fell open as others laughed, protested, gasped, or even gagged jokingly.

As they quieted down, your friend continued. "Unless two people end up getting each other's names, which is very unlikely, you have the chance to go on two dates! With the person whose name you choose, and the person who chooses you! And who knows, you might find your soulmate!" Her voice had a sing-song tone to it as she spoke.

"What if we end up with our own name?"

"Then I will buy you an expensive gift!" She said quickly, which earns some 'oohs' from the crowd. Quickly she added on, "And if you don't take the person you choose on a date... you have to buy them an expensive gift!"

Looking over at Vernon, he seemed to sense your gaze as he met your eyes. He raised his brow and you both seemed to know what the other was feeling. This could get very awkward.

Out of the twelve people playing, you were friends with six, the other five were strangers. And out of the other eleven people, there was only one you could see yourself wanting to date, and that was Vernon himself.

You had been friends for ages and had feelings for him for nearly as long. And those feelings were something you had become an expert in repressing. But something that helped was that he never had any lasting relationships. You wanted him to be happy, but you couldn't deny the hurt and jealousy you felt whenever he dated someone. So as guilty as it made you, you couldn't help but feel relief when the relationships ended.

But now, with this game, you had to see Vernon go on a date with two people. Luckily for you, the chances of him getting one of his best friends was decently high. But there was also the small chance he could end up with your name, or you could end up with his.

The thought made your ears grow hot, so you quickly shooed the thought away.

As the game began, you ended up going fourth in line. Instead of stealing, you decided to choose a new name from the hat. As you refiled through them, you waited until you felt you had a good pick.

Sitting back down, you had a weird feeling that you needed to keep your card. Though you figured it was just your sense of challenge piquing at the idea that someone might steal it from you.

While the game went on, your original pick was stolen twice, one more time and it couldn't be taken any more. You feared someone else might take it before you, but luckily, your final turn came, and you took back the original note you picked from the hat.

When Vernon's turn came, he decided to remain with his choice, one he decided early on to take from Jun after his own was stolen. When someone took it from him, he took it back, seemingly feeling as though it was the one he was meant to have as well.

When the game was over, people murmured nervously, as everyone began to reveal the names on their notes. Mingyu ended up with the name of one of the people you didn't know, while Hoshi ended up with Mingyu's name. Something only one of them was excited about.

Jun ended up with the name of someone in the circle you knew he had a crush on, and you silently cheered him on while sharing knowing looks with Vernon and Joshua.

When it was your turn, you nervously opened the note, hoping if anyone it was one of your friends. That was you wouldn't have to go on a date with a stranger.

Opening the note, so the name was facing the crowd, just as the others did. Joshua laughed with something akin to excitement, before you looked at the note.

'Vernon'

"Oh-" You looked up and met Vernon's gaze, he looked shocked but happy as he repressed a grin.

You let out a soft laugh, playing along with everyone's disappointment that you got your best friend’s name. Picking up on a "But they hang out all the time already!" From a familiar voice nearby.

No one except a couple of people, Joshua included, knew about your long-hidden feelings.

Vernon gave you a thumbs up and you rolled your eyes at him, both glad and uneasy that you picked his name. If anything, to avoid the subtle heartbreak that would fill you, you could just call your "date" a hang-out. Just like you usually do.

You purposefully avoided looking at Joshua, knowing he would give you a look that would just make you more nervous.

As the others revealed their names, you couldn't seem to focus, as you held your own paper tightly in your hands. How was it that the paper you seemed so determined to keep, that felt like it was supposed to be the one you got, was Vernon's?

"Alright Vernon, your turn!"

Your eyes shot up as you came back to reality, your heart racing as your chest tightened. You weren't paying attention, had someone already gotten your name? There were only a few people left after Vernon. You had been worried about who Vernon would be going out with that you forgot about your own risk in this.

As he opened his note, facing himself first, you saw his lips tug up into a smile before he let out a chuckle. Turning the paper around, you saw your familiar handwriting. You sat up in shock as others got overly excited about the coincidence.

Joshua covered his mouth with his hand as he repressed the biggest grin he could make. Vernon looked at you and gave you an exaggerated look with another thumbs up.

"It must be fate!" Your friend called out, unknowingly making your heartbeat increase as you felt a bit uneasy.

Was it fate? A cruel joke? Just a coincidence? Either way, you were sure if you should he happy or upset. Now you had to go on two dates with Vernon? Or was it still just one? Or would you just buy each other gifts and call it even?

Getting lost in your thoughts again, you weren't aware the game ended until people started standing and walking over to speak with the people they got as their mystery date.

Seeing Hoshi chase after Mingyu as he ran away, you let out a soft scoff before spotting Vernon moving to sit beside you. Your chest tightened as you put on your best smile, trying not to show him how the stupid game affected you.

"So." He said as he sat down, and you eyed him with a smile.

"So?" You repeated in a similar tone.

"What shall we do for our dates?"

You really hoped the way his question affected you didn't show on your face as you forced out a chuckle.

"What, you don't want me to buy you an expensive gift instead?"

He smiled but shook his head as he leaned back on the couch. "Nah, I'd rather go do something fun."

'Just another hang out' You told yourself.

"Like what?"

He hummed, "I don't know yet. How about we combine out two dates into one, and you pick something for us to do in the morning and I'll pick something for the evening."

Your heart was pounding as you nodded your head, the word 'date' continuously repeating in your head.

You nodded softly as you rose, "Okay."

He furrowed his brow, "Are you leaving?"

You nodded, trying to repress a yawn. "Yeah, I wanna leave before she starts another game."

Thinking about it for a second, Vernon nodded in agreement as he rose as well. "Good idea."

After turning down Vernon's offer to escort you back home, you waited together for your Uber. Seeing him frown at his phone you smiled softly. "What are you looking at?"

He spoke softly without looking up. "Date ideas."

You laughed but felt your chest clench. "You don't have to keep calling it a date."

Vernon looked up and you missed the look on his face as your Uber pulled in. As you waited for them to pull up to you, you looked back at Vernon, "Let me know what day you want to hang out okay?"

As you climbed in, Vernon grabbed the door, leaning in to speak to you. "Why do you call it a hang out?"

"Huh?" Your heart skipped a beat, "Well, I figured- I mean- what, do you actually want it to be a date?"

He nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Yeah. We're going on a date."

"Like an actual date?" You forced a laugh as you tried to keep yourself collected, confusion overwhelming you.

Vernon grinned at your perplexed look as he nodded again. "Yes. We're going on an actual date Y/n."

As you were about to protest and question him more, he smiled at the Uber driver before winking at you and closing the door.

"But-" you muttered to yourself, heart pounding as you tried to figure out what was happening.

Why did he want to make it a date? Just to appease the game results? Or did he actually want to go on a date with you?

You sighed as you leaned your head back, clenching your eyes shut as you tried to make sense of your muddled thoughts. Should you text him? Find out how he was feeling?

As if reading your mind, your phone buzzed with a message from Vernon.

Opening it, you held your breath.

'Let's do our date on Saturday, okay? That should give us enough time to plan something each.'

Another buzz

'And yes, it's an actual date in case you were still wondering. I've been wanting to ask you for a while but kept chickening out. But I guess it was meant to happen with or without me manning up.'

You stared down at your phone stunned, mouth agape. Your mind seemed to be in a fog for the rest of the evening. Mixtures of confusion, panic, elation and anxiety came over you again and again.

What you thought was going to be a normal hang out was turning into an actual first date.

It seemed surreal. Vernon had been wanting to ask you out?? For a while?? How had you never noticed his feelings were the same as yours? Did your own feelings make you blind to his? Did he have any idea how you felt?

Sleep refused to take you as your thoughts raced all night. You had never replied to Vernon, let alone thought of a date idea.

Those panicked thoughts would come the next day. But for now, you were too busy staring up at your ceiling, wondering how things changed so quickly.

You let out a long breath as you stared out at the streets around you. Since the night of the Christmas party, it had snowed a few times, leaving the outdoors blanketed in soft snow.

It was the day of your date with Vernon and your nerves were almost unbearable.

Over the last few days, you and Vernon had talked through text only, and he had teased you almost relentlessly for your constant confusion of actually going on a date together.

Giving in and deciding to go with it, accepting whatever was going to come. You picked the arcade as your first part of the date. Something Vernon agreed happily too.

It was one of the first things you did together after you met. You had met through Josh and become close after hanging out at an arcade as a group, it seemed to bond the two of you, and you had been nearly inseparable since. It seemed fitting that you go to the same arcade years later, on your first date.

It was decided you would have lunch afterwards, and then you would go to Vernon's chosen activity, ice skating, which you hadn't done in a long time. Your main hope was to not embarrass yourself.

Lost in thought you didn't notice Vernon getting out of an Uber nearby and creeping up to you. He had a wide smile on his face as he jumped forward, grabbing you with a "Boo!!" making you gasp and jump back.

You groaned as you rolled your eyes as Vernon laughed. Reaching out and smacking his shoulder, you almost forgot you had been nervous, up until you met his gaze and noticed his smile, it seemed softer than usual.

You swallowed nervously as you shoved your hands into your pockets. Vernon could see your new reservation around him, and he repressed a smile.

He was afraid, no matter how much he insisted he wanted to go on an actual date with you, that part of you thought he was joking. He needed to make sure you understood what was happening.

Your breath caught in your throat as Vernon reached out, grabbing you gently by the shoulders and pulling you forward. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugged you tightly, leaning his head against yours.

Stunned, you hesitated in hugging him in return, but gently rested your hands on his back.

Vernon smiled as he spoke, "Let's get this out of the way. I don't want you thinking all day that this is some cruel joke or something." Pulling back, he looked at you with a soft gaze. "I like you. I have for a while, probably even longer than I realize. No matter how much I wanted to ask you out, I kept talking myself out of it. But I won’t anymore, not when the chance was practically handed to me."

You swallowed nervously as your heart pounded and butterflies filled your stomach. "You like me?"

He nodded and you let out a soft scoff, unknowingly causing Vernon's chest to clench in panic. Up until you smiled brightly at him, "I like you too."

"You do?"

You nodded and he chuckled, shaking his head and sighing before he pulled you into a hug again making you let out a soft laugh. "I guess we have a lot to make up for then, huh?"

The next couple hours felt like a dream. The anxiety you felt leading up to your date seemed to vanish. Being with Vernon felt like breathing, it was the most natural thing in the world. And it turned out, being a couple was too.

There was no reservation, or discomfort when he hugged you from behind after you pouted about losing a game to him. Or when he spun you around in a hug after you won a game you had always lost, it felt normal, it felt right.

When he gently removed an eyelash from your cheek, the flushing of your cheeks only encouraged him to lean in and press a kiss on your cheek.

Nothing felt so natural to Vernon than the way his fingers intertwined with yours. Holding your hand felt so familiar, and perfect, he was disappointed he had to wait so long to do it.

The day seemed to fly by as you sat on the bench with your pair of rented ice skates.

You looked out nervously at the rink as a sense of nostalgia rushed over you.

"It's been a while since you've skated right?"

You nodded, "Wonder if I'll be any good anymore."

"I hope not, I don't want to be the only one to embarrass myself out there."

You chuckled as you began putting your skates on, stopping as Vernon kneeled down and helped tie them. You smiled as you watched him, butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

Tapping your leg when he was done, he quickly put his own skates on before you both nervously made your way out onto the ice.

Though your legs felt like a newborn fawn's the first few minutes, you slowly leaned into the familiarity of the motions. Soon enough you were gliding around with ease. All the while Vernon was gliding slightly hunched over and bow-legged behind you.

Looking back, you almost lost your balance from the laugh that escaped. Turning to stop, Vernon grimaced as he came to a rough stop, grabbing your arms for support as he did.

"Are you sure you're having fun?"

He nodded. "I'm just getting used to it still, I'm good."

You chuckled again as you took his hands and began gliding, dragging him along with you to help him get his "sea legs". It definitely helped, as after a few minutes he was no longer hunched over, and his legs were much straighter.

"Yeah! There you go!" You laughed as you let him go, as both of you skated side by side.

He had a wide grin on his face that made your heart flutter.

Skating around the rink, you slowly got more and more confident with your skills, as did Vernon.

Spotting Vernon across the rink, leaning against the wall watching you, he waved, and you grinned at him before making your way to him.

As you got closer, Vernon reached out his arms to help you glide to a stop, rather than slamming into the wall. As he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you as you skidded to a stop, you looked into his eyes with a giggle and grin that made his heart flutter.

Your eyes remained locked as held you, before he brought his gloved hand to your face and gently cupped your cheek. As he began leaning closer, you held your breath.

"I'm sorry it took so long for this to happen."

Before you could reply, his lips met yours. The kiss was still for a second as he waited for you to kiss him in return, afraid he might have done it too soon.

Grabbing the collar of his jacket, you leaned in to react, leading Vernon to pull you a bit closer and deepen the kiss even more.

As he pulled away a few moments later, you grinned at each other in bashful amusement. As he adjusted your hat, he let out a soft laugh before he met your eyes.

"Just to make sure. We are dating now, right?"

You laughed before you nodded happily. "Yes, we are dating now Vernon."

He nodded, "Good." Cupping the back of your head, he pulled you into another kiss with a renewed excitement as you wrapped your arms around his neck in return.

Both of you knew this was truly meant to be, and there was no longer any point in wishing it had happened sooner. Because it was happening now, and it was perfect.

xx End xx

I hate ending stories, it's so haaard.

((Taglist Form))

12 Days of Christmas Taglist: @multi-fandommaniac, @mbruben-stein

General Taglist: @charmsprout, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669,

@tinyelfperson, @pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,

@shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie, @alexxavicry

Seventeen Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn, @dancinglikebutterflywings Vernon: @lieutenantn

[httpsleclerc]

httpsleclerc's 12 days of fluff-mas!

welcome to my 12 days of fluff-mas, where on the 12 day run up to Christmas, I'll be writing a fic based on a cosy winter prompt!

Day 1 - Tangled Lights with Dad!Charles Leclerc and Mom!Verstappen!Reader Reader

Day 2 - Iced Sugar Cookies with Ollie Bearman x Reader

Day 3 - Snow Angels with Dad!Mick Schumacher and Mom!Vettel!Reader

Day 4 - Badly Wrapped Christmas Presents with Max Verstappen x Reader

Day 5 - Hot Chocolate with Pierre Gasly x Leclerc!Reader

Day 6 - Ice Rinks with Charles Leclerc and Mom!Verstappen!Reader (The story of us does Christmas!!)

Day 7 - Family Dinners with Lewis Hamilton and Wolff!Reader

Day 8 - Fresh Baked Cinnamon Rolls with George Russell x Reader

Day 9 - Thick, pure snow with Oscar Piastri x Reader

Day 10 - Old Holiday Movies with Arthur Leclerc x Bianchi!Reader

Day 11 - Christmas Eve with various drivers!

Day 12 - Wrapping Paper Scraps and a roaring fireplace with various drivers!

Want to let me know what you're most looking forward to or want to share an idea you'd like to see in a fic? Let me know by dropping a message in my ask box!

prompts from this post by @scealaiscoite!!