#12 fics of christmas

[temporarywelcome]

12 Fics of Christmas Day 4 - Kai Anderson

"Safe"

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Winter had one request from Kai, which was to keep their cheerful neighbor, reader, safe and out of all the cult business. Kai agrees, though he can't stand reader and her holiday cheer.

WARNINGS: language, brief violence

____

Of course, he was a grinch.

Is it really that much of a shocker to realize Kai Anderson absolutely hated holidays? Especially Christmas. 

No, don’t be shocked. 

Kai Anderson hated Christmas with a burning passion, but there was one thing he hated more than Christmas. Well, one person. 

Y/N L/N. 

She was his neighbor across the street, and unlike him, she loved Christmas. Every year, she and her parents took the time to make their home into a little winter wonderland, something Kai was convinced had to be a fire hazard. An epileptic seizure waiting to happen. He had hoped when her parents struck gold (a lottery ticket win) and moved out, she would leave too, but of course, those assholes had to leave the house to her. 

He fucking hated her. 

Kai hated her, but his sister, Winter, for some reason, loved Y/N, thinking she was oh so cool and oh so sweet for whatever dumb reason. Winter liked her so much that one day she asked Kai a big question. 

“Hey, Kai?”

“Yeah?” he replied gruffly, glaring out the window. He held a steaming mug of coffee in hand, watching as Y/N began putting up Christmas lights. 

“I have a request,”

“And that is?” he scoffed, bringing the mug to his lips and blowing before taking a small sip of the bitter substance. 

Winter idly stepped next to him, “I believe, since you’re my big brother, you should grant immunity to a person of my choosing,” she began slowly, glancing at him to see his reaction. 

“What?” he laughed, though there was no humor. No smile, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Like, keep them safe. From all of this,” she gestured around the home, in reference to the bustling cult members walking around. 

He shrugged in response, “Fine. Whatever. What harm can one person do? Who’ll it be?” 

And so Winter pointed out the window, and Kai grimaced. Y/N. Winter was pointing at Y/N. “Seeing her happy makes me happy. She’s contagious. Keep her alive. Please?” 

God fucking dammit. 

___

Winter had gone off on her own business, Kai doing the same, however, a few hours later, he found himself looking out the window, eyes widening when he noticed Y/N, who he observed to be incredibly clumsy, on the roof of her house. 

Shit!

He came scuttering down the street, stopping when he was in her yard, “Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!”

She looked down at him with that million dollar smile she always had,”Oh! Hey, Kai! I’m just decorating for the holiday season!”

“It’s not even December!” he groaned, “Get the fuck down before you fall!” 

“I’m fine,” she replied, waving him off, “Don’t you worry about me! You can go right back to what you were- eek!” she lost her footing, Kai immediately holding his arms out in efforts to catch her.

“Shit shit shit I told you-!” he sighed in relief as she found her balance, “Get the fuck down!”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, “Besides, someone’s gotta put up these inflatables!” 

“Don’t make me climb that ladder and bring you down here myself,” he threatened. 

She pouted, “The decorations need to go up!”

“Get your ass down here. I’ll fucking do it,” he found himself saying. 

And so he found himself securing an inflatable sleigh with inflatable reindeer and inflatable elves and an inflatable Santa, cursing to himself the whole time.

Why the fuck was he doing this? For Winter of course!

Why the fuck was he putting up fucking Christmas decorations? For Winter of course!

Why the hell didn’t he leave once he made sure Y/N was safe? For Winter of course!

____

The next incident was a week later. 

A lengthy meeting had just ended in the basement, Kai scowling like usual when the doorbell rang. He was going to have one of his disciples answer, but something, he wasn’t sure what told him to. 

So he opened the door, scowl deepening when he noticed who it was. Y/N.

“Hey, Kai!” she exclaimed, wearing that same stupid bright smile, “I’m sorry to intrude in your home, but I was really wondering if I could use your oven? Something is wrong with mine and there’s no one available to look at it till tomorrow, but I have an event tomorrow I need to bake cookies for-” she babbled, stopping when he raised a hand to silence her. 

“No,” there was no fucking way he was going to let Little Miss Sunshine over here into his house with all of his disciples around. It then occurred to him she might try to use her own oven anyway and cause an accident that could harm her, or ask a different neighbor to use their oven and they turn out to be terrible people, doing something terrible to her.

Yes, he would have to do something about this. For Winter, of course. 

“I’ll look at your oven,” he said simply. 

“Really?” her eyes lit up, “Thank you, Kai! That would be great!”

And so he found himself grabbing his (his dad’s) toolbox, marching into her home and fixing her oven (with the help of a YouTube tutorial, he didn’t know what he was doing). He had planned to leave after that, but once he saw her trying to cut a stick of butter and almost knicking her finger, he then found himself taking the knife from her and cutting the appropriate amount for her. 

And then he found himself sitting at the island, watching her work the recipe as they talked. He was just making sure she was safe. For Winter. Yes. That’s what it was. 

That was all it was.

___

Two weeks after that incident, around the middle of December, he was walking down a street, gloved hands shoved into his pockets, when he heard arguing. 

In curiosity, he made his way over, eyes narrowing when he noticed these two shrimpy looking guys all up in a girl’s business, tugging at her coat. Not just any girl, Y/N. Those fucking assholes. 

“Can you please leave me alone?” she asked quietly, letting out a squeak as one gripped her waist roughly. 

What the shit?

He didn’t even realize his feet were moving until he was grabbing at the guy and shoving him down, hands fisting the other’s shirt. He saw red. He didn’t know why he was so pissed, but he was pissed, punching the shit out of those two losers till he felt the soft touch of a hand on his shoulder. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Y/N, sniffling, looking as vulnerable as ever. 

And he found himself putting his hands on her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes, “Are you okay?” 

She softly nodded, looking away, “Y-Yeah, just a bit shaken up, I guess? Thank you for helping me,”

“Of course, of course,” What the fuck was he doing? He was only this nice to people when he wanted something, that was it. “I’ll walk you home, c’mon,” 

And so he found himself walking down to their block, arm protectively around her shoulder and keeping her close. And when she nervously asked if he could stay with her for a bit, he found himself agreeing right away. 

What the fuck was he doing now? Why the fuck was he sitting on the couch scrolling through the channels on the TV while she made hot cocoa? Why the fuck was he accepting it with a little half-smile, allowing her to pick the movie? Why the fuck was he watchimg some stupid Christmas movie? 

Because he needed to make sure she was safe. Because Winter said so. Yes, of course. Of course that’s all it was. 

That was all it was. 

_____

When Christmas Eve rolled around, Kai was lounging by himself in the living room, Winter doing who knows what in her bedroom. 

He scrolled through the channels tiredly, trying to find a good fucking movie that wasn’t fucking Christmas movie, and of course, the doorbell had to ring.

Why wasn’t he surprised when he opened the door, finding Y/N L/N staring up at him with those gorgeous fucking eyes? 

“What is it?” he asked, already tapping his foot impatiently. 

“Hey, Kai!” she began, as cheerful as usual, “I’m hosting a Christmas dinner, and I noticed you and Winter are alone?” 

He chuckled quietly. This happened every single year. And every single year he slammed the door in her face and went back to the TV.

But this time, his thoughts began to whirl. 

Who was even at her house right now? What if there were some bad people in there willing to hurt her? Or what if something got caught on fire? 

He had to be there, to make sure Y/N was safe. For Winter, of course. 

And so he found himself getting his sister, allowing Y/N to lead them to her home. And he found himself seated next to her during the dinner. Fuck, he even laughed at one point. What the fuck was wrong wrong with him?

And then he found himself reaching under the table, taking her hand from her lap and lacing their fingers.

For Winter, of course.

Fucking bullshit.

____

The next morning, the doorbell fucking rang again, and Kai let out a growl, stomping down the stairs and to the door. Swinging it open, already expecting some group of religious people trying to convert him to whatever, he was ready to snap.

Until he saw who it was. Y/N L/N. Fuck.

“Merry Christmas!” she chirped, holding out two carefully wrapped presents. One for him and one for Winter. 

This isn’t the first time this happened. She has gotten him and Winter Christmas presents before, and he of course got pissed and shooed her off. 

But not this time. 

Instead, he took the presents from her hands, lips curling ever so slightly into the ghost of a smile, “Thank you,” he felt like shit. Like every year, he didn’t get her a present. He never did. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N!” Winter exclaimed from behind, clamping a hand on Kai’s shoulder, “We got presents for you too. Why don’t you get them, Kai?” she said, batting her eyelashes at her brother in a very obvious way. 

Presents?

Hesitantly, Kai placed down the gifts Y/N had got them, making his way to where Winter was pointing at. Right on the counter, two wrapped gifts. Both addressed to Y/N, however, one was neatly wrapped with Winter’s name on it. The other was rather messy, stating it was from him. He smirked softly, Winter really made sure it looked like he had gotten the present for Y/N, getting his handwriting down and everything. 

And so he found himself handing Y/N the gifts, watching the way her eyes lit up. She looked so fucking cute.

So maybe he didn’t just keep her safe for Winter’s sake.

_____

Tags: @envy-of-greed @bohnerrific69 @loveofcherry

[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.”

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

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Slip Slidin' Away

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Coat | Word Count: 1355 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Tags: Modern Day AU, Ice Storm, Neighbors Meet Cute, FYP Getting *Far* Too Local

Eddie reaches for his phone. It's buzzing against his thigh again. He's getting annoyed. His doorbell camera has been going apeshit for the last ten minutes, but every time he checks, nobody's out there. 

Another notification, another annoyance, and this time he actually pulls up the recorded clip instead of just the live feed to see what kind of insect has survived the freeze just to terrorize him. 

It's not a bug, though.

It's worse. It's a man, on a pair of ice skates, gliding up and down their frozen street. 

What in the actual fuck? Is he crazy? This guy isn't even wearing a coat, but he glides into, and then out of view, on honest to god skates. In the street. Who the fuck is this dude?

Eddie watches the rest of that clip, then a couple more, before he puts his phone out of his reach, not picking it up again until it actually rings.

"It's too cold for band practice," Gareth says by way of hello, and well, no shit. None of them should be out in this weather. Especially not Eddie, he's a terrible driver under regular circumstances. On ice? Recipe for disaster, for sure.

"What gave it away, the solid sheet of ice or the freezing temperatures?"

"Asshole," Gareth laughs. "I'm just saying. Don't come slip slidin' away over here. You'll die."

"Speaking of slip slidin', Simon, there's a dude skating in the street outside the house," Eddie tells him. "He keeps setting off my doorbell cam."

"Like, hockey skating or figure skating?" Gareth asks, and fuck if Eddie knows? 

"I don't know. He's got blades strapped to his feet and a death wish." 

"Sounds familiar," Gareth says.

Eddie ignores him. He's crazy and reckless, but he's not skate in the street crazy. There's a difference, surely.

"He's not even wearing a coat. I'd at least wear a coat to my death."

"Because you're a delicate flower with no circulation."

Eddie laughs. He's not delicate, but he is cold-blooded to his core. 

"How long is this ice storm supposed to last?" Eddie asks. He hates this kind of bitter cold.

"Three days, give or take."

Three days. He can handle three days without interacting with another human being.

Later, when he's laying in bed doom scrolling, he gets a text from Gareth:

Eddie opens the link, and it's definitely his street, and is the video of the skating guy. The other POV? He thinks that's the right term, but he wouldn't bet the farm on it. Either way, the account's name is Robin, and with a quick glance through her profile, he suspects she's the wife of Mr. Skates. 

These must be his neighbors. He's done a pretty damn good job at avoiding meeting anyone, but here they are, on his phone. Small world.

She's razzing the shit out of him in the clip, and Eddie thinks she's not wrong. Dude's lucky he didn't catch a rock taller than the sheet of ice with his skate and eat shit. 

He's gorgeous. It loops again, and again.

Eddie watches him lace up his skates, over and over, and hit the icy street, laughing the whole time. 

Why is this video an hour long? 

He lets it cycle through one more time, gives it a like and a favorite, and Eddie's not much for social media, or playing nice with neighbors, but he leaves a comment before overthinking it. 

It's not until the next night, back in bed, his phone in his hand that he realizes there's a metric shit-ton of notifications waiting for him. Mainly likes on his comment and then a couple responses. This video must have blown up today. Which makes sense, if it was pushed into Gareth's feed for him to even see to send to Eddie, lots of other people must have gotten it, too.

His neighbors have responded, but were mainly just bantering with each other:

Well, now Eddie's embarrassed. Nice moves? He didn't realize this was gonna go public. Especially since this guy is good looking. Way to make a fool of yourself in front of the hot, new neighbor. Jesus H. Christ. 

He really needs to think things through before he says — or types — them. 

Oh well. He'll avoid them. That hasn't been hard to do so far, last night's assault on his camera, notwithstanding.

The next morning, Eddie's carefully tiptoeing outside to retrieve his mail, trying not to bust his ass on the ice that just will not melt, three days his fucking ass, when a yellow blur is zooming towards him. It comes to an abrupt stop, ice dust flying, right on the iced over pavement right in front of Eddie's mailbox. It's kinda impressive.

"You're Ed, right?" he asks.

"Eddie, yeah. Steve?" Eddie questions, and so much for not interacting. But the guy nods, giving him a bright smile. They shake hands, and now Eddie's met his neighbors. Anti-social streak over.

"That's me, I can't believe you saw our video from next door!" 

Eddie doesn't think he needs to go into a bunch of details on how it was really Gareth whose algorithm got fed it, so he just nods along, "Small world, indeed." 

"Robin is dying that it went kinda viral." 

"Your wife?" Eddie asks, and Steve nearly falls off his skates laughing. 

"No. No way. Best friend. Platonic with a capital P. Hetero life mates, except for the hetero part." 

Eddie's ears definitely perk up at that. 

"Well, I feel lucky to be on the non-hetero side of the street, then." 

Steve grins, "Oh, you definitely lucked out. Mr. Hollins across the street is straight enough for the whole neighborhood." 

Eddie doesn't know who that is, but laughs anyway.

Then has an idea: 

"So, I have an important question," Eddie says, and Steve just looks at him, curious and expectant. 

"Are those hockey skates or figure skates?" 

Steve holds onto Eddie's mailbox and laughs, head tossed back, hair flying. It's perfect. He's perfect.

"Hockey, but that doesn't mean I don't have moves. I have moves for days. Don't you worry." 

"Moves, you say? Well, let's see 'em, big boy."

Steve smiles, and pushes off into the street. Eddie ribbed him for no coat last night, and now here Eddie is, outside, no coat, freezing his ass off as he's demanding his cute neighbor skate for him. 

He takes out his phone, and starts recording. Even he knows this will be a popular update to their little moment. 

Steve skates backwards, crossing his legs over each other. 

"Can you jump?" Eddie yells. 

"It's not advised!" Steve yells back, "But, since when do I ever listen to advise! Waltz!" 

He does a little jump, and lands on one foot skating backwards. Eddie hoots and hollers, and Steve takes a bow. 

And that's it. He skates over and Eddie can't stop staring at him. 

"You want to come in for coffee? Warm up?" Eddie offers, unwilling to let him just leave. 

"Hell yeah, sure," Steve agrees, and Eddie watches him skate up the driveway, and then stop on the porch to take off his skates. He holds onto Eddie's shoulder to balance himself, and Eddie can feel his warm hand, fingers gripping his skin, through his shirt.

He wants those hands in other places.

Oh, he's in trouble. Big, big trouble.

Steve has on big, thick socks and looks so cozy in his sweater as he follows Eddie in the house. 

"It's nice to have a good neighbor again. The last lady," Steve says, then gives two big thumbs down, blowing a raspberry.

Eddie laughs. He's never been considered the good neighbor before. Not with his shitty van, long hair and too loud music. 

He starts a pot of coffee, and looks in the fridge. He has a few things, and he wants Steve to stay as long as possible. Eddie has some wooing to do.

"You hungry?" 

"I could eat," Steve admits. "I can always eat. Hollow leg, all the sports will do that to you."

And Eddie starts fixing this hot guy, who's certainly way out of his league, no matter which sport, breakfast.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 🧥

Notes: I saw a video of someone ice skating on the street, and their neighbor saw it and commented like, "Hey! That's my car in the background!"

Slip Slidin' Away is a Paul Simon song.

Hetero life mates is a Jay & Silent Bob reference.

[yoongissweetdream]

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.

I am renewing my tag list for 2025. If you want to remain on my tag list (or join) you can fill out my Tag List Form

taglist (haven't renewed so far): @do-you-remember-summer-127 - @catzachvsvt - @lemur46 - @ateez-atiny380 - @lovrehani

@lixisoul99

Already renewed for 2025 (don't need to fill out the form again):

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[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

[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.”

[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.

[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.”

[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!!

[temporarywelcome]

12 Fics of Christmas Day 2 - Tate Langdon

"Gingerbread Men"

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Being a ghost in the house sucks, reader missing her family this Chrismas season. Tate takes it upon himself to make her feel better.

A/N: sorry I wrote this in one sitting in between class breaks rip. Also let's pretend Tate didn't do the freaky deaky with Vivian. And he sees Violet as a friend, nothing more.

____

When Tate first saw her, he was incredibly infatuated. 

He followed her throughout the house, refusing to let her see him for the first few days. Just quietly admiring her and her beauty. 

Because she was beautiful. 

When he finally decided to make himself known, she was sitting in the living room, lounging with a book in her hand. He knew he looked creepy, standing in the archway and staring at her, but he couldn’t help it. 

Y/N was like a goddess. 

Yes, he looked creepy as hell, and, yes, she reacted the right way, gasping and throwing her book as hard as humanly possible at him. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” she had shouted, scrambling to her feet and grabbing a lamp in defense. 

Tate, who easily caught the book in his hands, fiddled with it nervously, “Tate. You could put the lamp down,”

“What the hell is wrong with this neighborhood?” Y/N muttered to herself, grip on the lamp tightening, “Everyone and their mama just loves to show up uninvited in my fucking house! You know how rude that is, right?”

Tate already knew his mother and sister had entered the home multiple times without consent. The difference between him and them was the fact they could easily leave. He could not.

A con of being dead. 

“Sorry,” he replied, lips forming a smile as he sauntered towards her. She raised the lamp in warning, but did not act on it, allowing him to casually sit criss-cross at her feet, “What’s your name?” Tate pretended not to know, pretended he wasn’t following her around pretty much all day every day. 

“Mother fucker get out of my house!” she exclaimed. This guy… What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Relax, I just wanted to talk,” he brings his knees to his chest, trying to give off an innocent look, giving her his big puppy dog eyes, “I had to get away from home, my mom is always yelling,” he lied.

“So you decided to enter my home uninvited?” When she said it like that, yeah, he did sound weird. 

Tate shrugged, “The door was unlocked,” he replied. He had no idea if it was actually unlocked. He didn’t care. “I knocked but no one answered.”

“A sign to leave us alone, isn’t it?” she responded sarcastically. 

His grin just got bigger, dimples showing, “You’re funny,” he said, ignoring the obvious distress in her tone of voice. 

And that was how they became friends. Just friends, nothing more.

Though he was incredibly in love with her. 

So when the house finally took her from the land of the living, he felt terrible for her. He had tried his best to keep her alive and safe, but alas, the house was forever cursed. She was bound to that fate as soon as she had stepped foot into the foyer. 

Tate tried to comfort her to the best of his ability, but she was not only depressed but pissed off at him for essentially lying to her about his identity. He wasn’t Tate, the cute and sensitive neighbor who was sweet to her and just happened to suspiciously only be able to hang out in her house. No, that wasn’t him, he was Tate Langdon, mass shooter, viewed as a monster by many, and of course, a ghost. 

He tried to explain to her the nature of the house, tried to explain he was never violent, he was never murderous, till he had moved there. But Y/N was not having it. She did not care. 

And so, despite the close proximity, Tate had never felt so alone. 

Eventually, December came, and Y/N looked even more depressed than usual. She didn’t even talk to the other ghosts anymore, she simply lay curled up in some room of the house, usually changing location every day. Tate had begged one of the newer ghosts, Violet, for help, begged her to know what was making Y/N more depressed than usual. Violet had only been in the house as a ghost for a few weeks, but being close in age with Y/N and Tate, Y/N spoke to her a lot. 

“It’s Christmas time,” Violet finally explained after Tate’s pleading, “She misses her family,” 

Oh. 

Y/N was the only one in her family who had died in the house. She had died and her family could not stay there for another second, moving away. She was very close to her family, Tate couldn’t imagine how she was feeling right now. Her first Christmas alone. 

And so he had an idea. 

___

“Get your ass up,” Violet groaned, grabbing one of Y/N’s legs and tugging. 

“Fuck you!” she began to kick her legs wildly, but Violet stayed firm, dragging her ass out of the room, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Violet rolled her eyes, “Stop fucking moving,”

“I want to be left alone!” Y/N got a kick at Violet’s gut, causing her friend to drop her leg. She crawled back to the middle of the room, curling up on the floor. 

“I’ll kill you twice,” Violet hissed, already starting to get annoyed, “Get the fuck up,”

“No,” 

The ghost pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, “Look, Tate really wants to show you something. Can you please get the fuck up? For him? He did something for you,”

“Fuck him too,”

“Y/N,” Violet said, warning in her tone, “Please. Just for a minute,”

Finally, she huffed and sat up, “This better be good,”

Violet stretched out a hand, which Y/N took, hauled to her feet, “I think it’s very good. He worked hard on this. Like, really hard, and I don’t expect much from teenage boys.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Y/N followed her down the hall, arms crossed over her chest in disinterest, “Let’s just get this over with,” they went down the steps of the stairs and to the living room. 

Y/N paused. 

The living room was decorated in reds and golds, garland and twinkle lights draped over every surface. Little Santa and snowmen figurines were placed on the table and fireplace, stockings placed. Whoever placed them had scribbled out the names with Sharpie, messly writing Y/N, Violet, and Tate on them. 

And the culprit was in the corner of the living room, messly decorating a tree with a Santa hat on. Tate turned, grinning wide, “Y/N!” he exclaimed in excitement, “Do you like it?!”

She practically melted right then and there.

Unmoving, she eyed the tree, tangled Christmas lights thrown around it, ornaments crowded into the front. It was awful, but the effort was there and so fucking adorable she was starting to tear up. 

“You did this for me?” she asked after a moment.

Tate nodded, nervously shuffling towards her, “Do you like it?” he repeated, hands at his sides, fiddling with his jeans. 

She bit her bottom lip to keep her from crying, nodding quickly, “Yes, it’s so pretty…” she threw her arms around his neck for a hug. His eyes brightened, arms snaking around her waist tightly. “Thank you, Tate,” 

An alarm dinged, and he pulled away, “Oh! Cmon cmon cmon!” she was then being dragged into the kitchen, Tate rushing to the oven, opening it.

Motherfucker baked cookies.

Tate Langdon…. Baked fucking…. Cookies?

He set the pan down on the counter, terribly cut-out gingerbread men looking back up at him, “My mom came by yesterday so I kind of begged her to get me a recipe and the ingredients,” 

That touched her even more. Tate always ignored her mother when she came to the house. But he spoke to her just so he could bake Y/N cookies?

“I was thinking we could decorate them together?” he asked hopefully, emptying a shopping bag onto the island. Different icings and piping bags bounced against the counter. 

“Told you he worked really hard,” Violet mused. 

“I remember you said you always baked gingerbread cookies with your mom,” said Tate, that same excited look not leaving his face for even a second. Holy fuck when did he become so perfect?

“We did,” Y/N replied with a soft nod, trying to suppress her urge to sob on him. It was then she noticed he was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater too. He looked so hugable. She swiped at her tearing up eyes real quick, “Lets decorate these fuckers,”

Tate’s eyes lit up, him, Violet, and the love of his life getting to work decorating the gingerbread men, giggling like children at their horrible artistry, Christmas music playing on the record player in the background.

___

Tags:

@envy-of-greed @bohnerrific69

[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

[the-immortal-redshirt]

The things poor Clara has to do to get a kiss

For @rumple04 's grumpy Grinch/ugly Christmas sweater Creative Evenings prompt

Please do not repost without credit!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Black Velvet, If You Please

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Velvet | Word Count: 1113 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Famous Corroded Coffin, Corroded Coffin Guys, Steve Trolling Eddie, Because He Loves Him

It's tacky. Kitsch. An oversized eyesore. 

And it's perfect. 

Steve couldn't be more pleased. It's exactly what he envisioned and more when he commissioned it.

He watches the artist carefully wrap it, then with their help, Steve picks up one side of the frame, both of them wrangling it carefully so they don't drop it, and carry it out to the waiting car. Gareth's behind the wheel, engine running, like he's the driver of a getaway car. 

He kind of is. Eddie's gonna consider this a crime.

And Steve loves it.

They very carefully place it in the folded down backseat of Gareth's ridiculously huge SUV, which for the first time in history actually came in handy. Steve shakes the artist's hand, and then climbs in the passenger side. 

"Well. Let me see it," Gareth says.

"It's wrapped, you can see it when we get it to the house," Steve explains. He's definitely not unwrapping it until they get it home safely.

Gareth mutters, but agrees, and puts the car into drive. 

Heist over, bounty secured.

Once it's safely hidden away inside the pool house, Steve gently peels back the brown paper and cardboard that has been protecting it.

Gareth leans forward, as if that'll help him get a better look. It's huge. He could see it from across the lawn. 

"Holy shit," Gareth says. 

"I know," Steve laughs, delighted. 

"It takes talent to craft something so magnificently ugly," Gareth says, and Steve agrees. It's ugly because it's on black velvet. That's kind of its thing. But it's not technically bad, nowhere near. It looks just like Eddie, and cost a pretty penny, but Steve definitely got his money's worth. Because the painting is damn good, and exactly what he commissioned.

But utterly and completely ridiculous.

Eddie — on black velvet. 

Christmas is gonna be so good this year.

"Why are you talking all the pictures off the wall?" Eddie asks, laying on the couch, eating popcorn, watching the annual A Christmas Story marathon. He's said he isn't moving today, and Steve is taking advantage of that. Eddie won't ask too many questions, for once in his life. Because if he does, he's scared he'll have to help.

"Gonna dust the frames, maybe change things up," Steve says, clearing off the entire wall behind the couch.

Eddie just shrugs, and goes back to watching the Bumpus hounds wreak havoc on the turkey dinner.

And Steve turns back towards the wall, grinning to himself, as he carefully measures, then drills the new holes in the wall to anchor it. 

It's like a black ops mission. Steve crawls out of bed just after four a.m. and when he gets downstairs, Gareth, Jeff and Goodie are all standing around waiting. 

"Sorry. Overslept. I couldn't set an alarm," Steve whispers, and they just nod, looking tired. He appreciates them all getting up early on Christmas morning just to help pull this off. 

Steve stands on one of the dining room chairs, Jeff on another while the other two hold the bottom of the giant frame.

"This is a ridiculous way to spend money," Goodie grumbles.

"Says the man with so many basses that he needs storage units, plural," Gareth banters back.

"Those are for work," Goodie snaps, a little too loudly.

"Sshh!" Steve shushes.

And in an unprecedented move, they stop fussing and fighting. 

It's a Christmas miracle.

They get it hung, and the holes Steve drilled yesterday actually work perfectly. He was worried his measurements would be off, and then they'd be screwed. Eddie can sleep through anything, but maybe not power tools in the middle of the night.

"He's gonna shit," Jeff says, and Steve giggles. That about sums it up.

They scatter, back to their own homes, their own families, and Steve goes back to bed. 

With no kids, Eddie isn't exactly raring to hop out of bed first thing in the morning, even on Christmas. This will work in their advantage.

Steve stays still in bed, waiting until he hears the first signs of movement from downstairs. They're back. After having Christmas morning with their families, they've all returned to see Eddie's face when he notices this thing for the first time. 

Steve gets up, and heads down, and with help gets brunch started. They always do a full spread, the works, and today is no exception. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, ham steak, hash browns, and every burner and the oven are being fired up all at once.

The kids are all screaming at a dull roar, showing each other their new toys from Santa, and Harrington House feels like a home in a way it never did while Steve was growing up.

He loves it.

They finally hear Eddie moving around upstairs. He's loud, by nature, so there was no chance he was gonna sneak up on them.

Steve carefully wrapped the front of the painting after it was hung, anyway, so even if he did, they wouldn't miss his reaction. 

"He's coming," Gareth says, stating the obvious.

"He's gonna kill you," Goodie says to Steve, "and I'm gonna tell him Gareth helped."

Gareth makes a noise, and Jeff steps in to intervene. They can't have bloodshed before breakfast.

Then Eddie's coming, heavy feet bounding down the stairs, and they all freeze. Waiting for him to go through the living room.

"What the fuck is that?" Eddie hollers, "Steve?!"

Steve just smiles, and throws his tea towel over his shoulder. When he walks through the doorway, everybody following, Eddie is standing in front of the wrapped painting. 

"I don't know. Santa must have brought it," Steve lies, and Eddie turns to look at him.

"What'd you do?"

"Open it and find out," Steve says, and Eddie grabs a corner of the wrapping paper and tears. It doesn't come off in full, but it reveals a hint at what's to come.

"You did not," Eddie says, as he pulls more of the paper loose.

Steve did. He definitely did.

Eddie bends over at the waist and laughs, "I hate you. I hate it."

Then, he stands up, throwing his arms around Steve's neck, "I love it. I love you."

Steve laughs, that's about what he expected. And Eddie pulls away to study it again, as all their friends hoot and holler in the background, riling him up further as they all look at it. 

Eddie, painted in his onstage glory, young and wild, on black velvet.

Steve watches as Eddie reaches out to touch the canvas, "Black velvet. Like I'm Elvis."

Yep. That's exactly what Steve had in mind.

Eddie turns back to grin at Steve, "Has Wayne seen this yet?"

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

Notes: The "painting" image is from this statue of Eddie that's for sale. I thought I could make it look more like a painting than an actual picture from the show.

The title come from the song Black Velvet by Alannah Myles.

[yoongissweetdream]

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 

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-

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]

Mistletoe Mischief

Plot: Yunho takes every opportunity he can to kiss you under the mistletoe, even if that means him following you around with it.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Kissing (obvs). Mention of wrists being held down (in playful and romantic way)

Words: 1.4k

As you stared into the cupboard, deciding what you wanted to eat, you failed to hear the soft footsteps creeping up behind you. Grabbing a small bag of your favorite chips, you closed the cupboard and turned around, jumping in surprise.

Yunho stood directly behind you, amused grin on his face and hands behind his back. You let out a sigh of annoyance as you placed your and on your chest.

"What are you sneaking up on me for?"

You rose your brow as he continued to smile at you in silence, mischief in his gaze.

Slowly, he brought his hand out from behind his back as he stepped forward to corner you against the counter. Seeing the mistletoe in his hand, you almost rolled your eyes as you barely refrained from chuckling.

"Yunh-"

Before you could get anything else out, he suddenly swooped down and kissed you. You grunted in surprise as you pushed him away, letting out a bewildered chuckle.

"Yunho, stop!" You failed to sound serious as you giggled at his actions.

Yunho chuckled as well as he tried to kiss you again. Successfully dodging his attacks you dipped underneath his arm and ran out of the kitchen with a laugh, Yunho grinned to himself as he watched you flee.

You shook your head in amused annoyance at Yunho's actions. That had been the fourth time he kissed you under the mistletoe. Apparently the first time after you hung it in the doorway was not enough for him. As he decided to instead, carry it around with him and kiss you whenever he wanted, often catching you by surprise.

The second time had been when you were reading something on your phone. You felt him tap your shoulder and when you looked up, he kissed you, mistletoe in hand and grin on his face.

The third time was about half an hour ago, when you had exited the shower, only to be suddenly scooped into his arms and kissed again.

His actions were undoubtedly cute, and quite romantic, but you knew he had no intention of stopping, which meant it would become more of a nuisance the longer it went on.

Not long later, you encountered him again. As you headed down the hall, Yunho stepped out from his office and blocked your path.

You locked eyes for a moment before you quirked your brow, "What?"

"What?" He repeated, innocence in his tone you knew you couldn't trust.

You squinted suspiciously at him before you tried to walk past, only for him to step in front of you. Stepping to the other side, he only followed suit. After this repeated two more times you huffed.

"What are you doing?"

He grinned happily, "You have to pay the tax."

"Tax?"

He nodded, as he pulled out the mistletoe. You bit you lip to repress the smile that threatened to form.

"Yunho." You kept your tone level, serious.

"Y/n." He repeated in the same tone.

You closed your eyes as you let out a soft breath, "You're ridiculous."

He grinned as he tilted his head sideways, "I know but you love me."

You shook your head as your smile broke out. "Fine."

After quickly leaning up to kiss him, you made your way past him before he could stop you again. You could hear his soft chuckle as you disappeared down the hall.

His attacks continued for the next couple of hours as he surprised you with the mistletoe at any opportunity he could. When you were reading, eating, when you were on the phone, any time you walked into the room he was waiting around the corner.

Finally, when he had his own phone call to take, you spotted the mistletoe on the table and quickly grabbed it. Hiding it in the washing machine, you figured he wouldn't find it. You smiled to yourself as you sat down on the couch and began scrolling on your phone.

It wasn't long before you spotted Yunho entering the room, confused look on his face as he obviously scanned the living room for the mistletoe.

He checked the table, then the couch, then the kitchen before he walked past again, patting his pockets.

"Lose something?" You asked as casually as you could as you watched him searching.

He met your eye, and obviously did not suspect you as you appeared genuinely curious.

He shook his head, "Nope."

You rose your brow, "Okay."

His lack of suspicion did not last as he appeared a few minutes later. "Did you hang the mistletoe up somewhere?"

You met his eyes and shook your head, "No, you're the one whose been carrying it around with you all day."

He hummed under his breath as he casually walked over to you on the couch.

He eyed you closely and you stared at him, "What?"

Reaching over to you, he started feeling your pockets and reaching into your sweater sleeves.

"Yunho!" You said with a laugh while attempting to swat him away.

Finally, he moved to check in between the couch cushions and under the pillows.

He let out a sigh before he placed his hands on your shoulders. "Where is it?"

You shook your head innocently, "I don't know."

He glared half-heartedly as he brought his hands to your sides, "I'll give you to the count of three."

"I don't have it Yunho."

"One..."

"Two..."

"Three!"

As he reached three he began squeezing and tickling your sides, causing you to drop your phone and desperately try to protect yourself. As you laughed and yelled out in alarm, Yunho continued his attack before you finally yelled out.

"Fine! Fine! I hid it, but I'm not telling you where it is!"

Yunho laughed as he stopped tickling you, instead pressing his forehead against yours.

"Is that so?"

You nodded your head, and he only grinned wider. Adjusting himself so he was sitting on top of you, caging you against the couch, you saw a familiar mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

He leaned forward, bringing his mouth next to your ear. "I don't need mistletoe to kiss you."

Suddenly he began kissing you everywhere. Neck, cheek, nose, forehead, and lips.

You failed to hold back your giggles from the onslaught of kisses, failing to push him away as he grabbed and held your wrists.

"Yunho!" You yelled out in a fit of giggles, causing him to finally stop after placing one last kiss to your lips.

You leaned forward, pushing your face into his chest in case he started again. He laughed as he held you against him instead, placing one last kiss on the top of your head.

After a moment of silence he spoke again, "Did it really bother you that much? The mistletoe?"

Pulling away from him and leaning your head back back on the couch you smiled up at him and shook your head. "No, you've just been bombarding me with it so much I thought I'd get back at you a bit."

He pouted dramatically as he gently held your hands. You laughed and shook your head.

"You can't have it back until tomorrow. And I'm limiting the kisses to ten!"

He leaned back as he sighed dramatically making you giggle.

"Only ten?" He asked softly with a pout as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours again.

His puppy dog eyes shined brightly as you rolled your eyes, but gave in. "Okay, fifteen."

"Hmmm, how about fifty?"

"Fifty!?" You laughed.

"What?! Don't I normally kiss you a lot more than fifty times a day?"

You shook your head and he frowned. "Really? I gotta up my boyfriend game then."

You laughed as you gently smacked his shoulders. "You do, but not with the mistletoe."

He grinned as he placed a soft kiss to your lips. "Okay. So... fifteen kisses with the mistletoe, and unlimited without?"

You laughed before groaning, "You're impossible."

He chuckled as he settled on the couch beside you, wrapping you in his arms and pressing his face into your neck. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you held him close.

"Guess what?" He mumbled a moment later.

"What?"

As he shuffled around a bit, you watched as he suddenly held something up.

"Wha-"

He chuckled into your neck as he dangled the mistletoe playfully, "I found it a long time ago."

You groaned as you lied your head back on the couch, only for him to reach his hand around the back of your neck and make you look at him. He held the mistletoe above your head as he grinned mischievously.

"The fifteen limit doesn't start until tomorrow right?"

xx End xx

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