#and cook and bake and put up a small tree

[letsdosciencetoit]

WIP Wednesday - 5 + 1 BuckTommy - Part 2

Five times the 118 finds out that Tommy is married, and 1 time they find out Buck is, too.

Part 1

2. Maddie

Post partum after baby Robert has been both easier and more challenging than before. 

It’s easier now because covid is a distant memory, there’s no city wide black out, they have a house, and they have a well-established network of family and friends who might as well be family stopping by and helping out.  She knows what she’s doing, and what to expect to an extent, too.

It’s harder, too, though.  When Robert cries, she can’t drop everything to help him, because she has Jee to consider, too.  Jee is 4, and craves her independence, but also needs help and is prone to meltdowns that seem to be without provocation.

As hard as it was on Chimney, Buck leaving the 118 has been a godsend to her.  He’s on a different shift than Chimney now, so he’s able to come by when Chimney is working and help her with Robert and Jee. 

Buck is more than happy to take baby Robert off her hand so she can spend some one-on-one time with Jee.  He’s happy to help get Robert down to sleep so that he and Jee can bake cookies in the kitchen.  Buck always seems so happy and full of energy when he comes to visit, but when the kids don’t occupy him, he’s more quite than she’s used to. 

She used to be able to read Buck better than she can now. Something shifted when she implied he had feelings for Eddie. She’s aware she maybe overstepped, but before she could consider apologizing she’d lost her voice, then Bobby died, and then Robert was born, and she just hasn’t been able to check in the way she wanted to.

Buck has Robert and Jee at the park while Chimney is playing basketball with the other first responders. Maddie takes the opportunity to have a shower, unload the dishwasher, and then puts her feet up to catch up on a little sleep. 

She wakes an hour later to Jee climbing into bed with her.  She opens her arms and pulls Jee to her.  “Where are Robert and Uncle Buck?” she asks, her voice a little gravely.

“Unky Buck is making sure Bobert goes for a nap,” Jee offers, and Maddie knows she’s going to be so sad when Jee finally starts saying their names properly.

“Do you want to have a nap with me, Jee?” Maddie asks, brushing Jee’s hair out of her face. 

“No mommy. I want to watch Bluey,” Jee declares, like Maddie was crazy for thinking otherwise.

Maddie gives her daughter another squeeze, and moves to push herself up off the bed.  “Okay sweetheart.  Lets get you a snack, and we’ll get Bluey on the TV for you.”

When they come out of the room, Buck is backing out of Robert’s room, pulling the door shut with a quiet click of the latch.  He grins softly at Maddie, and she has no doubt that Buck loves her kids as if they were his own.  

“Out like a light,” Buck offers.  “He was absolutely in love with watching the leaves on the trees.   The fresh air and stimulation did him some good.”

 “Jee looks like she had a good time, too.” Maddie smiles back.  “Thanks for this. Do you want to stick around until Chimney’s back? He’s going to pick up Thai for dinner.  I can ask him to grab something for you too.”

Buck gives her a rueful smile and a small shake of his head. “No, thanks Maddie. I’ve got to grab some groceries.  I’m planning on cooking dinner at home tonight.  Tell Chimney I say hi, though.”

***9-1-1***

Chimney gets home about 45 minutes after Buck has left.  He’s practically vibrating as he walks through the door, and Maddie has come to realize this means he’s learned something he doesn’t want to know and he needs to share the burden.  She keeps quiet, knowing he’s going to spill as soon as he gets his bag put away.

“Tommy’s married!” he blurts as he comes back into the kitchen.  Jee is thankfully distracted and painting.  She periodically still asks about “Unky Tommy,” and Maddie doesn’t want to have to explain to her again why they don’t see him any more.

“I’m sorry,”  Maddie responds. “Tommy’s married?  To who?”

Chimney shook his head.  “I was a little blindsided, I didn’t think to ask.  All I know is they got married a month ago, and he looks so disgustingly in love.  Do we need to tell Buck?  We can’t tell Buck, can we?  We just got our fridge space back.”

Maddie pauses, and thinks it over for a second. “Buck finally seems to be in a good space with his new station.  I don’t think we need to mention anything to him.  It’s not like the two of them really cross paths these days.”

Chimney deflates. “I want to be happy for Tommy. He seems really happy.  I just wish it wasn’t at Buck’s expense.” 

Part 3 Part 4

[parfaitblogs]

i have more than enough ❀ s. reid x reader

in which the holiday season is achingly difficult to get through, when you are spencer reid, who believes he is no longer allowed to enjoy them. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. post prison!reid. word count: 2k a/n: and for my final act? the parfaitblogs special (post prison reid fic to a searows song). merry christmas from australia because it IS the 25th here!!! this is the end of my christmas advent calendar!! i had soo much fun writing these stories thank you to all that requested ♡

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

He does not deserve a Christmas. 

Perhaps that is the only thing that runs through Spencer Reid's mind the second the Halloween decor filtered out of the stores, reindeer mugs entered them; while candy canes and Santa hats adorned every little item, and Christmas trees lit up every corner of every mall.

No matter what state he traveled to, he couldn't escape the festivities of the holiday season. He's pretty sure he's the only person who wants to. 

You waited for him. He feels immensely guilty for just how much waiting you've had to do all year. Waiting for him to go to trial, waiting for him to get out of prison, waiting for him to let you in again. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

You're waiting again. A Christmas tree that blandly sits empty and undecorated in the corner of your shared apartment; a Christmas roast you aren't sure if you'll even cook takes up too much space in your fridge; gingerbread cookies you promised your friends weeks ago remaining unbaked. 

He knew you were upset about it. His Christmas loving girlfriend forced to mute the celebrations of her favourite holiday because he couldn't find it in him to be excited about it. 

He didn't know how to fix it, really. 

You had tried everything to get him back into the Christmas spirit he's had for the past three years you've spent together. Baking with him, picking out the very Christmas tree that leaves the room smelling like a pine forest together, Christmas shopping for the presents he had no will to buy for his family and friends. 

Nothing had worked. 

"Spence?"

Sitting awkwardly at his — now — very minimally decorated desk, his head lifts from the papers in front of him, eyebrows frowning towards each other as his eyes land on you.

"Hi," he murmurs, putting the pen in his hand down in an effort to give you his full attention. He was getting better at that, these days. 

"I finished dinner," you tell him, fingers fidgeting with one another; a recent habit he had noticed you'd developed in the months between his arrest and release. "If you want to come eat."

He doesn't, but then again, he never does. And despite how awful he feels, he feels even more so for what he's putting you through, and the guilt that chews away at him is enough to will him to do small things — like eating — for you. 

"Yeah," he breathes out, and stands up from the desk, following you silently over to the meal sitting at the edge of the kitchen bench you had cooked for the two of you.

Silence overwhelmed you two as you ate, as it usually does. Sitting curled up beside one another on the couch, sharing a blanket and yet still feeling so distant from each other regardless. 

"Did you call your mom?" you ask him, and his fork pauses in the plate. 

Right. It's Christmas. The time for calling family members and sharing love for them during this supposed to be joyous time. 

"Not yet," he shakes his head. "I'll... get to it. Before Christmas is over."

"You have a week," you remind him, though it isn't to be passive aggressive at all. You genuinely wonder if he's forgotten the date of Christmas that has quickly crept up on you both.

"I know."

You stare silently at the coffee table after a short nod to his words, and you wrack your brain for things to say, just to keep him talking.

"Can I give you your gift before Christmas day?" 

He lifts his head, and you feel his eyes transfix on you.

"If you want."

You want him to want it too, but you aren't sure if that's a reasonable wish anymore. 

"I do," you nod, and quickly finish up your food, before you stand, and leave the room altogether. 

He places his plate next to yours on the coffee table — he'd remember to get to cleaning those later — just as you return, a square shaped brown paper gift in your hands, a purple ribbon tied in a bow around it. 

"You got me a square?" he asks you, and your heart warms at the teasing tone in his voice. He's trying. 

"Open it," you press, instinctively shaking his shoulder with both hands pressed up against it. 

"Okay, okay."

He's meticulous in pulling the plain wrapping paper off, and you almost want to open the gift for him. 

"Did you make this?" he asks you as he carefully pulls the square apart in front of your eyes, though he does already know the answer before you have a chance to start nodding your head. 

A Victorian Puzzle Purse situates delicately in his hands. Hands that pull it apart ever so slowly, taking note of every little drawn and painted detail on the paper, opening it up to a letter that he spent two minutes reading through — confirming that he was not only reading it once through. 

"Do you like it?" you ask him, almost hesitantly. 

"Victorian Puzzle Purse's were how lovers would communicate for Valentine's day," he says, instead of answering your question directly, as he neatly folds it back up into the intricate origami square it was originally when he pulled it out. "Sorry," he quickly adds, his eyes landing back on you. "That wasn't an answer. I do. I like it a lot."

"I know it isn't much, but I don't want to overwhelm you with gifts this Christmas. I'm honestly not even expecting anything big. We can just order food in and watch movies or something this year, if you'd prefer. You just have to promise me you'll at least let me put mistletoe up outside our bedroom, because it's kind of become tradition and... sorry."

He's staring at you, half dumbfounded, half in awe, as you realise you were rambling instead of sitting in the moment of him enjoying something seasonal, but you can't even find it within yourself to be frustrated at it. For he is letting a small smile grace his lips, and you're leaning forwards with a smile of your own, and for a second or more, he is not the shattered prison man, and you are not his distanced girlfriend. 

"You can put mistletoe outside our bedroom," he says, and you're breaking into an even wider grin.

"Really?"

"It's tradition."

You light up enough for there to be no need for a decorated Christmas tree in your apartment anymore, and you're threading your fingers through his hand to drag him up off the couch. 

Your gift to him remains on the coffee table as you lead him over to your bedroom door, prompting him to stay still, as you disappear to find the piece of familiar fake greenery. 

"Mistletoe!" you present it to him, and he takes it from you habitually, using the pin you also hand him and pinning it above your heads on the doorframe.

"I think we need to buy a new one," he says, hands dropping back by his side. His eyes are trained on you, but your own head is still tilted back, inspecting the faux plant. 

"I think we need to buy a real one," you answer conclusively, finally dropping your gaze to him. 

"Next year," he confirms. "Tradition complete?"

You shake your head. "The tradition ends with a kiss."

Hesitation follows your words, and you instantly regret them. 

It wasn't that you didn't kiss, or weren't intimate in any way. It's simply that it was on occasion now, and almost always motivated by something more important than a silly mistletoe tradition.

"It's okay," you cover your unwelcome disappointment with a smile. 

He ignores your reassurance. "It does end in a kiss, you're right."

"But we don't have to," you mumble.

"Yes," his hands encase your waist to do nothing more than to pull you closer to him. "We do."

"Not if you don't want to."

"Did I say that?"

You open your lips to respond, but the words die on your tongue. 

"What did I do to make you think I don't want to kiss you, angel?" he's frowning now, and you feel guilt settle in your chest. 

"Nothing, really. We just—um—don't kiss... as much. Anymore. Which is fine, by the way, and I can understand it. You're under no moral obligation to kiss me. Obviously."

His frown deepens. "I think we're experiencing a bout of miscommunication."

"What?"

"I thought you didn't want to kiss me," he explains, and suddenly, you're mirroring the confusion on his face. 

"Why would I not want to kiss you?" you ask him, incredulously. 

His shoulders slump at the question, and you force yourself not to fill the silence that follows.

"Prison," he replies, quietly. "I didn't think you'd really even want me once I got out of prison. You don't initiate anything anymore, either. I just assumed."

"I didn't initiate anything because I was waiting for you to initiate stuff."

"I can see that now."

"I didn't want to rush you," you tell him, as earnestly as possible. "I know prison was a lot, and you still haven't told me everything that happened, but I wanted you to not rush yourself. Or... us, I guess."

He swallows the lump of emotion that lodges in his throat. "I thought you were disappointed in me. Or—well, scared of me."

"No," your heart shatters, and you're sure he can hear it in your voice as your hands instantly cup his cheeks, fingers brushing over his cheekbones. "No, oh my God, Spencer."

"You shouldn't use the lord's name in vain. It's Christmas," he jokes, weakly. The smile you give him is weak, too.

"I was terrified for you. I was so worried about you in prison, and—and what they were doing to you in there. But never of you. Not a single part of me will ever be scared of you, sweet boy."

"I'm scared of me," he whispers, and his voice cracks in a way that has tears welling in your eyes. "I think differently, you know."

"And that automatically means I should be scared of you? Or makes you any less deserving of love?"

His silence is enough of a response. 

"I love you," you settle on telling him. "No matter what baggage you came back to me with. You deserve so much love, and I hate that you have been through so much. So much so that you believe yourself undeserving. You are not. You never will be. I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if I must. Or as long as you will let me."

"Forever," he replies, and you feel his hands close over your own on his face. "I will let you forever."

"Thank God. It'd be kind of embarrassing if I say all this and then you were to break up with me tomorrow," you say, and his cheeks stretch beneath your hands as he huffs a laugh.

"I won't break up with you."

"I wouldn't let you, anyways."

"Oh really?" his hands slide down to your waist once more. 

"Yeah," you confirm with a small nod, your own hands dropping to his neck, interlacing behind it, as you draw his head closer to yours. "You're stuck with me."

"I have not a word of complaint," he replies, and he's close enough that you feel the words tattoo your lips. "I love you."

And then he's kissing you, and there is an overwhelming amount of neglected feelings you had been missing poured into you, from his soul to yours. 

It was a kiss so unlike what you had grown used to in recent months. Fingers dug into your waist as a violent reminder of what you mean to him, and for the first time since May, you believed it. 

When he goes to pull away, you barely give him time to get air before you're chasing his lips again, and he tugs you impossibly closer with a laugh that vibrates against your face. 

You kiss him until your hands go numb behind his neck, and your legs begin to ache, and your waist is sure to have bruised in the shapes of his fingertips. Chest heaving and eyes full of more adoration than you think one human can have for another, you meet his gaze once more.

"Tradition complete."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[bloomzone]

50 things that make life beautiful

1. Watching the sunrise after a long night.

2. The smell of freshly baked bread.

3. Finding a song that feels like it was written for you.

4. Hugs from someone you love.

5. Laughing so hard your cheeks hurt.

6. The sound of rain hitting your window.

7. Warm socks on a cold day.

8. The first sip of coffee or tea in the morning.

9. A compliment from a stranger.

10. Seeing your favorite flower bloom.

11. Listening to waves crash on the shore.

12. Receiving a thoughtful text.

13. Achieving a goal you worked hard for.

14. The feeling of clean sheets on your bed.

15. A long walk on a sunny day.

16. Holding hands with someone special.

17. Taking a picture of a moment you want to remember forever.

18. The smell of a new book.

19. Rewatching your favorite childhood movie.

20. A deep, meaningful conversation.

21. Waking up and realizing it’s the weekend.

22. Learning something new about yourself.

23. The feeling after completing a workout.

24. Looking at old photos and smiling at the memories.

25. The soft glow of candles in a dark room.

26. Watching the stars on a clear night.

27. Trying a new hobby and loving it.

28. Hearing your favorite artist perform live.

29. Cooking a meal and having it turn out perfectly.

30. Watching children laugh and play.

31. Making someone else smile.

32. The scent of your favorite perfume or cologne.

33. A random act of kindness from a stranger.

34. Dancing like no one’s watching.

35. The quiet moments in the early morning.

36. Seeing your reflection and feeling proud of yourself.

37. A handwritten letter or note.

38. The feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket.

39. Seeing the first snow of the season.

40. Discovering a hidden gem in your city.

41. Finishing a book you couldn’t put down.

42. Running into an old friend unexpectedly.

43. Helping someone and feeling appreciated.

44. A beautiful sunset that takes your breath away.

45. The excitement of planning your next adventure.

46. Seeing the trees change color in the fall.

47. Finding a piece of clothing that makes you feel confident.

48. Celebrating your small wins.

49. Hearing the words “I’m proud of you.”

50. Knowing that every day is a chance to start fresh.

@bloomzone ✒️

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ A Simple Life ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

synopsis: sfw headcannons w/husband!Alucard x reader living in a cottage in a prairie

tags: tooth rotting fluff

a/n: this was a request and i sobbed writing it wow i love alucard

wrd cnt: 1.3k

Cooking Together

With living this way, a lot of your food was homemade and even better for it.

One afternoon, you decide to bake a new buckwheat bread together after he found an entire field of it not too far south of your cottage.

It ends, like you thought, in chaos.

"You added salt instead of sugar!" You accuse him.

"Well…..they look the same?”

Flour ends up on the floor, on your clothes, and definitely on Alucard's nose, that last one wasn’t a mistake though.

"You've got something-" you start, but he flicks more flour onto your cheek.

"Oh, it's war now," you declare.

Flour flies through the air as the both of you duck behind counters, laughing and giggling, both covered in the powder. When it finally ends, you’re breathless and tangled on the floor, clutching each other.

"You're lucky I love you," you whisper.

"I live on that luck," he grins, brushing flour from your lips before kissing them lovingly.

Protectiveness

Though the two of you lived in peace, Alucard's protective instincts never left him, especially towards his darling.

When you walk through the forest, he always positions himself slightly between you and the trees. His eyes always scanning the shadows, though he tries to do it subtly as to not scare you.

"Are you expecting wolves?" you tease.

"Only if they're foolish enough to come near you," he replies smoothly with a smile.

In the kitchen, he always hands you the duller knife, not that he says it out loud.

He wraps scarves around your neck himself when it's cold. He double-checks the windows at night.

"Alucard," you sigh, "you don't have to guard me."

He turns to you, eyes gentle. "I know. But I want to. I know you can do it yourself, but let me do it for you.”

You rest your head against his chest, hands holding his. "Then just guard my heart."

He holds you a little closer than before. "Without question."

Love Notes

Alucard has a habit of leaving handwritten notes tucked into odd places, he doesn’t think it’s odd at all- not when every part of his being belongs to you.

You’d find them in your coat pocket: “Wear something warm. I want to take you star-gazing tonight”

For inside the sugar jar: “You're the only thing sweeter than this.”

Also in the books you read: “You are the chapter I never want to end.”

It’s cheesy, yes, but of course, you can’t stop yourself from writing back, leaving playful replies.

Sometimes, you catch him mid-note.

"Caught you," you grin, peeping into your bedroom when the door is ajar.

He smiles softly, swiftly putting the note behind him. "I like reminding you how much I love you."

"You don't have to write it down."

"I know," he says, pressing a kiss to your hand. "But I want you to find it even when I'm not near."

“What’s that one say?” You ask, referring to the one he’s hiding behind his back.

“You’ll find it soon.” He promises.

Tending to the Garden Together

Due to your lifestyle, it’s only understandable that you’d rather plant your own food than go to the villages and towns far away for your produce.

Your garden is small but lively.

You planted it together with care, each herb and flower chosen with intention.

Alucard tends to the lavender and rosemary with reverence, while you tackle the stubborn wildflowers that bloom freely around the edges.

"You've got dirt on your nose," he says, smirking.

You look up, swiping at it. "Better than being sensitive to sunlight." You get back at him.

He leans down to kiss your dusty forehead. "A small price for your love."

You both love to spend hours under the open sky, hands brushing over basil, tomatoes, and violets.

Sometimes he wraps his arms around ypu from behind, resting his chin on their shoulder.

"Think it'll grow?" you ask, looking at the lemongrass in front of you.

"It already has," he whispers, meaning more than just the plants.

At dusk, you both watch the fireflies blink over the garden. The lake reflects stars, and Alucard holds your hand like it's something sacred.

"Promise me we’ll have this forever," you say, more than ask.

He looks at you with ancient, unshakable devotion. "For as long I breathe, and long after that too.”

Reading Together by the Fireplace

Your location brings you all four seasons and each with its own unique needs, but your favorite is winter. The snow falls thick and quiet across the prairie and visits your home each year.

In the evenings, the two of you sit pressed up in a nest of quilts you knitted with some yarn he bought you from a traveling merchant. The fireplace is crackling and the snow hushed the world outside through the windows.

Alucard reads aloud, his voice low and melodic. Sometimes it's poetry, sometimes ancient texts, sometimes silly fairy tales.

“And the prince turned into a fox,” he reads, amused.

"Sounds familiar," you grin, poking his side.

He arches a brow. "Are you calling me a fox?"

"I'm calling you sneaky."

He chuckles and leans in close. "Well I'm calling you adorable, my princess."

Your soft laughter echoes off the cabin walls.

Later, the book forgotten, you curl up together and talk about everything or nothing at all.

"Do you ever miss the castle?" you ask him, a question that’s been on your mind for many seasons.

"Not when you're here," he murmurs. "This is home, our home."

Morning Routines

Arguably the best part of the day is the very early mornings at the prairie.

Every morning, Alucard wakes before the sun rises. Not out of necessity-just so he can admire the person he loves most before the world stirs.

Before the rays of sunlights seeping into your room wake you, he takes the time to brushe stray hair from their forehead, kisses you softly, and murmuring, "I could watch you for centuries and never tire." You, still wrapped in blankets, usually stir awake with a smile and giggles as he kisses your lips awake.

"You're staring again," you mumble, slowly opening their eyes.

"Always," he replies.

You spend quiet mornings brewing tea in your little kitchen, the same sunlight slanting through the windows as they follow you two throughout your routine, like ritual. Alucard always insists on serving you first, placing the warm mug into your hands with the kind of reverence saved for holy things.

“You act like l'm made of glass."

"No," he says, kissing your temple and placing your plate infront of you. "You're made of stars.”

Stargazing

Speaking of stars, most nights, you two sit out by the lake under a heavy wool blanket, backs against a smooth boulder, watching stars blink awake in the darkening sky.

"Tell me a story," you ask one evening, as you usually do. You know your husband is a walking museum of time, full of anecdotes. But he also loves to make up his own, for your entertainment of course.

Alucard tilts his head, thinking. "Once there was a lonely prince in a castle of shadows, until a light found him and taught him to laugh again, just what he needed and more."

"Was the light pretty?" You say, clearly catching on to his flirting.

"The prettiest. Blinding, really." He mentions, chuckling deeply.

You laugh and rest their head on his shoulder. "You're shameless." You say, poking his side. That bastard, daring to be so sweet it made you dizzy.

"I'm in love," he says simply.

Your fingers intertwine over the blanket.

Alucard's thumb brushes slow circles. The stillness like the lake reflects the same love between you, deep and gentle.

He looks at the stars and then at you. "I used to think quite often, I was too broken for this."

You squeeze his hand. "You were just waiting to be loved right."

He kisses your knuckles. "I was waiting for you. Every day."

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[chanelnumbermine]

2024 f2 boys during christmas preparations | f2 grid picks x gn!reader

i’ve been feeling really tired during those last few days and thought that i could use some help. who better than my favourite drivers! lay back and enjoy this small christmas gift! happy holidays, cuties!! <3

pairings: ollie bearman x gn!reader, kimi antonelli x gn!reader, zane maloney x gn!reader, paul aron x gn!reader, pepe marti x gn!reader, luke browning x gn!reader, franco colapinto x gn!reader;

warning(s): cuteness overload!!

ollie bearman | prema —> haas f1

as we know, the boy is a menace in the kitchen

so he helps with the christmas tree!

shows off his strength by carrying the tree to your house

excited to see all the lights and ornaments, wants to make it really perfect since you're doing it together

teases you about your height so so much

will lift you just so you can put the star on top of the tree! so cute!

kimi antonelli | prema —> mercedes amg petronas

he's a little flustered with all of this

can't help with the food, the tree is already decorated, what is even left?!

the presents!!

kimi would be the ultimate perfectionist in terms of wrapping

and don't even try to convince him that he can use a gift bag

every single item will be neatly wrapped with a bow on top

"can i wrap you up next?"

zane maloney | rodin —> formula e

king of confusion

chances are the chritmas traditions in your countries are vastly different and it's normal to be puzzled

zane would blindly follow your lead and admire how you handle yourself with so many responsibilities

"woah, babe, exactly how many cakes have you baked? this is so good!"

cleans up after your cooking because he sees how exhausted you are

"you need to teach me how to make this so i can help you out better"

paul aron | hitech —> bwt alpine reserve driver

surprisingly useful!!

my man will try to show off his baking skills but will end up asking questions every two minutes to make sure he doesn’t mess anything up

and thank god he asked, because no paul, you can’t add protein powder to my christmas pudding!

very clingy and affectionate, something about holidays together makes his heart melt

brushing his fingers over yours and teasing because he knows you will get frustrated and can't act on your needs

grins when you pounce on his later

pepe marti | campos, red bull academy

type of overachiever boyfriend who will start planning everything november 1st

all the dishes, the decorations, dates... you can count on him to have everything ready

but he somehow forgot about one thing: gifts

emergency last minute shopping, filled with laughs and good food!

"baby this dress would look so pretty on you!" "pepe we already bought so much-" "who cares! let's buy you this dress and, omg, is this matching lingerie?"

very excited puppy!

luke browning | hitech —> f2

really happy to be of help with just about anything

the type of guy to yap about his family traditions, his mom's cooking

not to compare or shame you, he just really loves christmas and wants you to be a part of his world so much

"mom, how do you make these cookies? i want to make them for my darling this year"

overall, it is very sweet and caring during this time

bc he's already imagining your future together and how would your family home look during christmas omg

franco colapinto | mp —> williams racing

curious about anything and everything

"hey, hey, baby! how did you make this? it looks to pretty"

you're stuck with his for hours tbh

will try to help you and fail miserably, causing even more mess and more work

flour will end up on the floor and on your faces

absolutely shameless about it, looks at you with puppy dog eyes

"come on baby, you weren't paying attention to me and now i ruined it! it's not my fault"

will try to make it up with a kiss or two, or five

[merrymusings]

            winter / christmas / holiday themed prompts

♛ — [sender] brings a gift to [receiver] ☁ — [sender] throws a snowball at [receiver] ✧ — [sender] bumps into [receiver] under mistletoe ✰ — [sender] and [receiver] stroll around the city/town looking at holiday lights ❐ — [sender] gives [receiver] a festive sweater ♬ — [sender] sings a christmas carol at [receiver]'s door ⇧ — [sender] and [receiver] drink hot cocoa at a diner ☃ — [sender] and [receiver] attempt to make a snowman together ● — [sender] and [receiver] decorate a christmas tree ❆ — [sender] and [receiver] get trapped indoors during a snow storm ╳ — [sender] encourages [receiver] to make a snow angel ⍋ — [sender] and [receiver] pick out a christmas tree at a farm △ — [sender] and [receiver] try to chop down a christmas tree in a forest ☜ — [sender] and [receiver] attend a white elephant/secret santa party ✔ — [sender] and [receiver] make small talk at an office holiday party ☺ — [sender] and [receiver] get tipsy at an office/school/community holiday party ♞ — [sender] and [receiver] watch silly hallmark holiday movies ☎ — [sender] and [receiver] put together a gingerbread house ◎ — [sender] and [receiver] decorate and bake christmas cookies  — [sender] and [receiver] cook a festive meal ☮ — [sender] brings [receiver] some fruitcake ✂ — [sender] and [receiver] craft handmade ornaments/decor ♤ — [sender] and [receiver] try to string popcorn garland ☀ — [sender] and [receiver] go ice skating ☂ — [receiver] sees [sender] fall from a roof/high place while putting up christmas lights ☾ — [sender] and [receiver] go shopping for gifts together ���️ — [sender] and [receiver] take holiday themed photos together ♡ — [sender] and [receiver] cozy up by a fireplace ⌘ — [sender] and [receiver] visit an outdoor christmas/holiday market ♣ — [sender] and [receiver] make mulled cider ◑ — [sender] gifts [receiver] a pair of matching pajamas ✚ — [sender] and [receiver] volunteer at a soup kitchen ➊ — [sender] and [receiver] attend a local theater production of a christmas carol ✿ — [sender] and [receiver] attend a ballet presentation of the nutcracker ★ — [sender] and [receiver] attend a holiday orchestra ♜ — [sender] and [receiver] play board games by candlelight ♨ — [sender] and [receiver] roast chestnuts on an open fire ♯ — [sender] and [receiver] wrap presents together ☠ — [sender] and [receiver] play a holiday themed drinking game ⁑ — [sender] offers [receiver] coquito or eggnog ✗ — [sender] and [receiver] attend a nye black tie gala 𓋼 — [sender] and [receiver] discuss resolutions for the new year ✈ — [sender] and [receiver] count down to midnight

[piratefalls]

i deeply hate the idea that buck would just not think to give his boyfriend something for their anniversary, so imagine for a second that buck didn't necessarily forget to get tommy something, he just thought too far ahead and got him a christmas gift instead.

because even before his conversation with josh, buck had thought about the future and seen tommy there with him. he saw tommy sat next to him at maddie and chim's table at thanksgiving with their family, plates full of food bobby insisted on cooking, sharing what they’re all thankful for. imagined tommy’s big, warm hand on his thigh as they dozed on the couch. that he'd had visions of a perfect christmas season together. imagined tommy in his sweatpants wrapping garland around the banister in the loft; the way they would have kissed under the mistletoe buck would have hung from every door frame just so he could feel tommy's lips against his again and again; murmuring i love yous and slow dancing in the warm light of the tree they'd picked out together. of waking up wrapped around each other on christmas morning, tommy's nose buried in the curve of his neck. he'd imagined it being their first of many.

but he'd been so excited about the future that he hadn't considered that maybe they weren’t on the same page. he hadn’t anticipated the way tommy's smile got smaller as buck went on and on that night, the light in his eyes dimming as buck talked about how much he admired tommy, the way tommy looked like he was breaking his own heart when he told buck that he was his first, not his last. that for all he'd imagined different scenarios in which they said those three words, he'd never actually said them. and then tommy had walked out, taking the way evan sounded rolling off his tongue with him.

and now instead of planning out a perfect holiday, buck, surrounded by the detritus of yet another round of baking, is staring at a box holding the custom ornament he'd ordered a month ago. with no tree to hang it on and no boyfriend to gift it to, he goes ahead and takes it out. the glass is delicate, with holly leaves etched around the top. the bottom is stained a perfect ocean blue, tommy and evan's first christmas in looping white text, breaking the flow of the painted waves. but the most important part, the one thing he'd insisted on, was the small crystal helicopter hanging inside. he loves it, and he thinks tommy would too. buck wonders if it would seem desperate to try to give it to him now, or if it would hurt more to keep it and pretend it isn't there. staring at it isn't helping him decide what to do.

what he does know right now is that he needs sleep. he sighs as he puts the ornament back in its box. he goes to bed hoping the morning will bring an answer.

[brainrotbabe24]

Ways Thorin’s company will remember you while they are on an adventure!

Balin: In the art books, it said Balin has a lectern he would write on while traveling. So in keeping with that idea, I would say his quill pens would remind him of you. I imagine he has a busy life and tends to forget about the little things. So when he is on a journey, he will curse himself for forgetting quill pens. But lo and behold in his bag would be a new set. He would chuckle to himself knowing that you always looked out for him. 

Dwalin: Dwalin seems like the type of guy who would get a tattoo for you. Not your face or a heart saying “I love y/n” but something small and sentimental. For example, if you were into gardening or the outdoors, he would have a tree sapling on his leg. If you were into baking, he would have a bread knife on his forearm. If you were a singer, he would get lyrics across his chest. Each night he would take some time to look at the tattoo, and images of you would flutter in his mind. 

Óin: You know his skills of healing are important on any adventure. So in the months leading up to it, you see him gathering herbs and other medicinal supplies to bring. To help him out, you would’ve bought a pouch to hold his supplies in. Oin loves it and regularly puts his most precious herbs in there. He doesn’t let anyone touch it and makes sure it’s secure to his body at all times. Oin loves feeling the material and will unconsciously run his fingers over it when thinking about you. 

Glóin: Isn’t it obvious he will have a picture of you in his pocket lol. He can’t stand not seeing your lovely face while on the road and basically demanded a portrait of you made. He made sure on the day of the portrait he adorned you with the most beautiful jewelry, beads, and braids. You loved it! So when he looks at the picture, he sees all his work/love was being worn proudly by you. He likes having your face be the last thing he sees at night and the first thing he sees in the morning. 

Bifur: Such a sweetie! He would’ve kept a wooden toy you tried to carve… and failed at. Back before he left, you would’ve tried making a toy. You had seen him do it a hundred times, so you didn’t think it would be that hard. A little surprise for him would be perfect. Welp, you messed it up and got so frustrated you threw it out. He found it of course and kept it. He carries it everywhere and takes it out when there is free time. He would never tell you he kept it, knowing you would be embarrassed but loves you for trying his craft. He is beyond proud! 

Bofur: Bofur knows you long for adventure and would feel bad when he couldn’t take you on trips. So to help you “see” the world, he makes sure to learn a song from the area. You guys have a tradition: he leaves, learns a song, comes home, and sings to you. I imagine when he is out in the wild he will keep the song stuck in his head thinking of your reaction to it. 

Bombur: Oh, you spoil him!!! Once you heard he was going on a journey, you would instantly go out and buy him new cooking utensils. He would cherish it, though. He would delicately bring them out every evening and refuse to let anyone else touch them. He would clean the utensils until he could see his reflection thinking of you all the while!

Ori: Before he leaves on a journey, He will set up a knitting date with you. You will both make each other socks, a hat, a scarf—whatever comes to mind! Before you give each other the gift, you make sure that your initials are sewn into them. In times when he is uncertain of his journey, he will look to your initials and think of you. 

Dori: I would imagine since he prides himself on appearance he would have jewelry, and one ring (lol) would stick out to him. You can find him fidgeting with it and even staring at it for long times. It was your present to him, and even if he is covered in mud and his appearance is less than perfect, he will make sure to clean his hand/that finger with the ring first.

Nori: He stole something of yours, but you have to guess. It’s less about the object and more of the joke/tradition that reminds him of you. He will look at whatever trinket he stole and think about you looking all over the house for it. He will chuckle at the thought and will smile, knowing that once he returns and shows you the missing object, you both will giggle. 

Thorin: In the book, Thorin had a harp. I feel the rough and tumble adventure would occasionally get the strings to snap. So when he sees a neat bundle of wire in his bag, he would be thinking of you. His face would get red and a small smile would appear on his face. He loves knowing you think of him! I guarantee when he gets home he will play the harp for you, as a thank you.

Fíli: While I want to say a knife... because it fits him perfectly. I would have to say pipe weed. Fili would be the type to enjoy a smoke while by the fire, and since his trips are always long and filled with danger, he savors the nights he can relax. He would sit back, relax, watch the fire, and “inhale you." The pipe weed would remind him of you, the smell bringing back memories of your hands, hair—anything really. And if he was able to share this precious weed with everyone, he would thank you secretly for helping everyone relax. 

Kíli: Kili seems like the type of dwarf that brushes his hair. It’s less in braids, so it probably gets knotted up more. So having a small comb/brush gifted by you to help detangle after a long day is exactly what he needs. Kili uses it so much and will ask Fili to help brush his hair. He will then close his eyes and imagine you are brushing his hair…His dream would be interrupted, of course, by Fili saying, “Brother, please tell me why you have mud in your hair…”lol

Bilbo: He will keep a book! Maybe one of your favorites that you wrote your notes in. He loves looking over your scribbles, ideas, and thoughts you wrote in the margins! His favorite lines are ones he isn’t supposed to know. For example, he once found a note saying, "Bilbo’s birthday surprise will be on Tuesday. Get Cake!” He would blush and think about how much he loves you. 

Gandalf: He was a tough one to think about....Out of everyone, I feel like he will be gone the most. So, he would love it if you helped him sew up any holes in his outfit. When he is out in the world the stitching will remind him of you and how much you care for him.

[slushfaerie]

can you pleaseee write a small lil fic about christmas eve with Art? im still in the christmas spirit and NEED something to read, it can be nsfw or sfw i dont mind!!

thank youuoyoy

hiiiii kicking my feet rn this is the first writing ask request i’ve gotten on this blog. thank you for sending it in ily :( and late merry christmas/happy holidays to you <33

ᯓ❆⋆ the idea of art on christmas eve being a sweetie with his grandmother and you joining in on their traditions but being desperate to touch you..i couldn’t help myself..

fem!reader, stanford era. word count: 803 - sfw til below the cut 🤍

you’d met art donaldson when you were paired up together to work on a project for your general education class on greek mythology. 

the project had wrapped up, but he’d kept making up excuses to be able to see you, saying he needed more help. it was the oldest trick in the book, but art was persistent. and now you were his.

it was winter break and art had invited you to come with him to his grandmother’s for christmas. your parents were really leaning into the whole empty-nester thing - were going to be in Prague for the holiday. and no one should be alone for christmas eve, in his opinion. 

art came from a huge christmas tradition family. he cooks dinner with his grandmother and helps her decorate the tree by putting up the ornaments on the branches she can’t reach. bakes them cookies to share while they watch charlie brown christmas every in their pajamas on christmas eve every year. 

and it was like a dream come true for art, having you here, sharing in these traditions with him. he holds your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as you sit on the couch, admiring the soft glow of the christmas lights on your face, a sweet smile on your lips as you chatted with his grandmother in pajamas of your own.

she likes you, he can tell. even has art set up the futon in the spare room for you before she turns in for the evening. insisted it was way comfier than the couch.

art gives your forehead a sweet kiss goodnight before helping his grandmother to her room. 

ᯓ❆⋆

you’re relaxing in the floral-smelling sheets and hand-crocheted blankets on the futon in the guest room when there’s a knock on your door. 

“come..in?” you say, unable to help a snort. whoever could it be.

“don’t you know santa only comes if you go to sleep?” art’s voice rings through the room as he opens the door, a soft grin on his face as you roll your eyes at him.

“you comfortable? need anything?” art says, chewing at the skin of his fingers.

you look up at him with a smile. well, you could think of a few things. “just…grateful to spend tonight with you both. your grandmother’s so cute.” 

art just smiles as he settles down next to you. “glad you think so. she likes you.” 

he turns to face you, wrapping his arms around you. “didn’t have the heart to tell her there was no need to make up the guest bed." plays with a lock of your hair. "she can be a little...traditional.” 

there’s a beat as art tilts his head at you with crinkled eyes, his long lashes fluttering shut as he leans down to pull you into a searing kiss.

and kissing art donaldson was all-consuming. he licks into your mouth and tastes like snickerdoodles, running his hands over your body like he never wants to let you go. can even feel him smiling against your lips as his hand wanders under the hem of your shirt before peeling it upwards.

you can’t hold back your gasp as he descends on you, peppering your neck with wet kisses. art lets out a single pitying chuckle.

“shhh…”

art kisses down your sternum before capturing the bud of one of your nipples between his lips, teasing the other with his fingertips. your hands clutch at the shirt on his back before wandering the muscled planes beneath it, trying in earnest to keep quiet. he swirls his tongue around your peak, his cock throbbing almost painfully in his pants as you squirm under his attention.

art gives you a wicked look as he has to muffle your noises with one of his hands. 

“never clocked you as one for the naughty list baby..but making these kinds of sounds in my grandmother’s home?” he clicks his tongue as he descends even further, pulling down your pajama pants and panties, revealing you to him.

art descends on your pretty pussy, lavishing your clit with adoring attention in tandem with his teasing fingers in your cunt, curling just right until you’re fluttering around them, tugging on his golden curls. even then, he doesn’t let up, not even one bit.

“you realize how hard i’ve had to try to keep my hands to myself tonight? been going fucking crazy...” he whispers, voice gravely, rubbing soothing shapes on the skin of your legs as you come undone for him so prettily.

oh that poor, poor baby. 

there’s a look of exaggerated sympathy on your face as you catch your breath, smile deceptively angelic on your lips as you reach a gentle hand down to palm at his cock straining through his boxers. art lets out a shuddering exhale as you maneuver to let him rest on the futon, tugging at his waistband as you hold his gaze.

you give him a wicked look of your own.

“what was that about the naughty list?”

ᯓ❆⋆✉︎

[thoughtswithbbg]

Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

Back to Masterlist :: Next

Summary : You ask your husband Sukuna to help you decorate your house for Christmas, and who is he to deny his beautiful wife.

Warnings : None, pure fluff, Modern AU

A/N : I did not expect to write Sukuna of all characters for this one shot but here we go!

Sukuna walked into his shared apartment with you, hearing the rustling of garland and the sounds of Christmas tree being ruffled. He walked into the living room area and his face scrunched up as he watched you decorate the room. He sat his biker helmet on the counter as he approached you.

“What the hell are you doing?” His arms wrapped around your waist as you stood on a ladder trying to put up some lights.

“Decorating, what else would I be doing?” He watched as you attached the final string of lights and stepped down from the latter.

“Christmas is stupid,” he sighed, a frown always resting on his face.

“To you, Kuna,” you giggled, going over the large brown box by the window. “Will you help me with the tree?”

Sukuna truly couldn’t resist you, throughout the entire time he's been married to you and even before that, he's always been head over heels doing whatever you wanted. He lifted up the tree, putting the bottom piece of the tree together.

"Alright here's the middle," You mumbled. You tend to talk to yourself when doing tasks, always trying to not forget anything. You grabbed the middle part of your plastic tree and snapped it into place on the bottom piece.

"Kuna can you put the top piece on?" You could just barely not reach, opting for him to do it instead. He did as you said, and the tree was fully put together. It made you smile happily, as you side hugged your husband. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, placing a soft kiss to your head.

"What's the big deal about Christmas anyways?" He never saw a reason to care about it, not until he met you, the light of his life. He watched as you grabbed a box of ornaments you have collected over the years. You picked each of them carefully, placing them on different areas of the tree.

"I just love it. The snow, the colors and all the decorations." you sighed blissfully, placing another ornament on the tree. "The best part is spending it with the people I love most." He almost smiled at that, almost.

You finished placing the ornaments on the tree, smiling at your fully decorated apartment. "Do you want to help me with the cookies?" You asked as the oven timer went off.

He followed you to the kitchen, watching as you pulled out at hot pan. You walked over with your homemade icing in a bowl. "I don't think I'll be very much help, princess." Sukuna was right, he couldn't cook or bake for shit.

You smiled, putting icing on each cookie and smacked Sukuna's hands away every time he tried to snatch a cookie before you were done with them all. You finally finished them, snapping a picture of your hard work before grabbing a cookie for yourself. He snatched two, and ate them both within no time at all.

"I'll never not be surprised for your baking skills." he gave you a small smile before walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing a small kiss on the nape of your neck.

A laugh escaped your throat as his kiss made you ticklish. "Merry Christmas Kuna," You cradled his face in your hands, looking up at him like he is your entire world.

"Merry Christmas Brat," his eyes closed as you pulled him into a sweet kiss, the mistle toe above his and your head going unnoticed by both of you.

[gold-onthe-inside]

make the yuletide gay

who? spencer reid (s3) x postgrad!reader

summary: the year's been hard, and the holidays hurt, and spencer realises maybe this christmas, comfort precedes joy. based on a request by @matthew-gray-gubler-lover: I would love one were i am down and it doesn't feel like Christmas to me (because it doesn't this year) and Spencer cheers me up, thank you.

word count: 939 (so close to 1k)

content warnings: unhealthy family dynamics, reader is trying to emotionally cut-off from her family, just all around angst and a lot of spencer cuddles

You had come back early from winter break, a day or two after Thanksgiving, using your key to get into Spencer's apartment while he was still on a case, somewhere in New Jersey. You hadn't just broken in, obviously, texting him that you were coming back early. As neutral your message had seemed to you, Spencer was much too good at his job not to know something was wrong. He'd called you from the hotel after and asked, to which you had said you'd tell him when he came home - all the while trying not to cry from the earnest care in his tone. But this wasn't how you wanted to tell him, a state between the two of you, over the phone, when he had a serial killer to catch.

It's not the first time your politics had tainted your holidays, the distance between you and your family helping temper your relationship with them. You'd made a plan and everything to keep your sanity for winter break, had mantras in your pocket to use to regulate yourself, breathing exercises, but while your degree is in psychology, theirs seems to be in pissing you off.

Spencer had done his best to make you feel better, had told you how this was normal, had let you talk about it over and over again without losing his patience, had distracted you when you didn't want to think about it, and soon enough, November was in the past. December was fast approaching and the Halloween decorations came down. Orange, purple and black were replaced with green, red  and white. Your phone buzzed with messages from parents, cousins, siblings, asking if you were coming back home for Christmas and you'd let them go unreplied, trying to hold onto joy.

Christmas wasn't as important to Spencer as Halloween, but he knew how much you loved the holiday. He'd spent hours with Penelope on Pinterest to find you the perfect gift, and even though he couldn't get a real fir tree into his apartment (at least not without being kicked out by his landlord), he'd bought a pretty good plastic one you could put up and decorate. You were being a total sport about it, even though your heart wasn't in it, because he was trying and if that wasn’t a sign that he loved you then what was?

The two of you spent Christmas Eve decorating the small tree that you really did love, wrapping tinsel and lights and hanging baubles on the branches and cooked together and there was more love here in Spencer's apartment than you'd ever felt at home, even though you ached for it still.

Christmas Day was so much harder - you'd accepted a video call with your family, watching from a screen as they unwrapped presents, your younger cousins ripping apart wrapping paper to reveal Lego sets and firetruck and dolls and you were so close to crying right there and then. "We miss you," they cried in unison and you'd sent them a flying kiss before closing the laptop, curling into your pillow with blankets that smelled like your boyfriend.

He'd given you the apartment that morning, letting you attend the call alone, because that's what you had wanted, opting to buy groceries instead, and he'd had the brilliant idea to bake cookies on Christmas Day, splurging on Christmas themed cookie cutters, almost noon when he unlocked the door, bursting at the seams with hope. It was too quiet though, the presents untouched under the tree.

He set the bags down in the kitchen, leaving his keys beside them, and checked the bedroom, finding you curled up in the foetal position, tear tracks on your cheek, having fallen asleep with your laptop beside you. He doesn’t know whether or not to wake you up, trying his best to anticipate your needs. What he wants to do is call up your parents and give them an earful for doing this to you, for not seeing the amazing, wonderful, kind person you are. Instead, he sat beside you, tucking the blankets around you, letting you sleep for an hour before waking you up with warm cocoa.

His question goes unasked, but it's the elephant in the room as you sipped the cocoa, feeling a little less hollow and numb as warm chocolate soothed your upset. "Am I making a huge mistake?" you asked instead, looking at him and he shook his head.

"You're making the best decisions you can," Spencer said and when you leaned into him, he wrapped his arm around you, lips automatically finding your temple. "You are so loved," he assured you, "and by nobody more than me."

"What if I lose them forever?" you asked his shoulder, fear creeping into your tone.

"They should be more worried about losing you," he said, a little bitterly, but it was honest, and he rubbed your arm.

You crushed your face into his chest, wanting to cry again but you had no more tears left. "I just want this year to be over," you mumbled as Spencer rubbed your back, hugging you tighter.

Spencer leaned down and kissed the top of your head, a wave of protectiveness washing over him. The thought of you in so much pain broke his heart more than anything else ever had. He had never felt so angry towards anybody as he did towards your family for making you feel this way.  "It will be," he murmured, holding you against him. "And next year is going to be better. I promise." He just kept holding you. The cookies and presents could wait.

[fireside-fanfics]

Thank you for the stories you’ve been putting out, especially that last one with Joaquin and Cami! 🫶🏾

For a request, Manny (The Last of Us) tries to do something special for his girlfriend’s birthday even though they don’t have much as they’re constantly moving and trying to just make it through the day 😊

Thanks for sending another request. I enjoy writing requests.

Still Choosing You

Sidney and Manny had been together forever. Not just in the way people meant after the world fell apart and you clung to whoever made you feel less alone. No, not even close. They were bound long before the outbreak ever happened. Their mothers waddled through Lamaze class together. Their dads built a joint treehouse between their yards when they were five. From the start, it was always Manny y Sidney—Spanish and English blurring together, meals shared between both families, matching outfits and scraped knees, summers spent chasing fireflies, their names always called out in tandem: ¡Manny y Sidney, vengan a comer!

By the time they were fifteen, all of that was gone. Her parents were killed during a riot in a collapsing QZ. His parents were taken by infection. And suddenly, it really was just the two of them. They never talked about the worst parts. About how she once gave up her portion of rations to keep him alive through a bad winter. About the time he killed a man with a shovel because he had gotten too rough with her when she ignored his advances. In the silence between those moments, something grew—something quiet and steady and true. They didn’t fall in love with a bang. It was gradual, natural. It was like breathing. 

By eighteen, they were a couple in everything but name. And then she kissed him one night in an abandoned library during a thunderstorm, and he kissed her back like he’d been waiting his whole life. Now they were twenty-four, still alive, still choosing each other, every day.

The night before her birthday, they camped in a small clearing just off an old service road. Their shelter was a battered tent flap strung between two downed trees and the fire was tiny, just enough for warmth, but it was theirs. Sidney was curled under the blankets beside him, fast asleep, dark curls a mess across her cheek and nose. Manny watched her breathe, chest rising and falling, arms tucked close like he was dreaming something safe.

He hadn’t forgotten the date; he never did. Manny reached for the notebook he kept folded under his pack—full of old notes and scraps of memories—and flipped to the page he’d marked weeks ago. Plan: Sid’s Birthday. Something good. Anything. Manny tapped the pen against his knee and smiled to himself. He placed the notebook back in his bag and crawled under the blankets next to her. Sidney scooted closer to him, which made him smile because, even in her sleep, Sidney sought his presence. He hooked an arm around her waist and nestled in beside her, dozing off quickly as his heart rate matched hers.

The next morning she woke to the scent of something vaguely sweet and a soft humming. Blinking groggily, she sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Her curls were wild from sleep, flattened on one side and puffed out on the other.

Her voice was scratchy when she asked, “¿Qué hora es?”

“Temprano,” Manny said with a grin, crouched over the little fire. “But it’s your birthday, so get up.”

“Liar,” Sidney groaned and flopped back down. “We don’t have birthdays anymore. It’s not allowed.”

“Too bad, mi amor,” he laughed, “I’m breaking the rules.”

She finally sat up, frowning sleepily at him. “There better be food.”

“Oh, there is,” he said, turning with a dramatic flourish.

He held out a battered metal plate, on which rested two lumpy, slightly burnt pancakes made from flour, a few crushed nut bar crumbs, and melted bits of chocolate. The best he could do with what they had.

She blinked again and laughed. “You baked for me?”

“It’s survival cooking,” he said proudly. “Fancy, right?”

Sidney took one, still warm from the pan, and bit into it. Her eyes widened and she gasped, “Manny! This is actually kind of good?”

“I told you—I’m a culinary genius.”

She ate both in silence, a small smile playing on her lips the whole time. When she finished, she looked at him more seriously. “You really remembered.”

Manny nodded with a wide smile. He took the plate and placed it on the kitchen counter. Cleaning could wait until later. He walked back over to Sidney who smiled sweetly up at him. 

Manny offered her a hand and said, “Come with me. I’ve got one more thing.”

“If you’re taking me into the woods to murder me…” Sidney narrowed her eyes.

“You’re too pretty to murder,” he laughed. “I’d never forgive myself.”

She snorted and took his hand anyway.

The walk took almost an hour. He’d found the place days ago, while scouting ahead for a safe spot to rest. And he’d quietly marked the path—bent branches, scraped bark, rocks turned just slightly the wrong way. Sidney didn’t notice; she trusted him wholeheartedly, without question. When they finally pushed through the underbrush, the broken cabin came into view. It sagged to one side, half the roof caved in, moss creeping down one wall. But the front door still stood, and sunlight filtered through the broken beams, catching on the dust like glitter in the air.

Sidney paused at the threshold and asked, “What is this?”

Manny nudged the door open and gestured for her to step inside. On the floor, carefully laid out on a tattered old blanket, was the surprise:

✸ A jar of wildflowers, loosely tied with twine. ✸ A sealed chocolate protein bar—one he’d been hiding for weeks. ✸ Two dented tin cups, still warm from where he’d filled them with melted ration cocoa. ✸ A hoodie—a little oversized, clean, only slightly patched, the soft kind of fabric no one saw anymore. ✸ And a folded piece of paper with her name scrawled on the front.

Sidney didn’t say anything, too stunned to speak. She stepped forward slowly, as if the floor might collapse, and knelt beside the spread. Her fingers brushed the flowers. Then the hoodie. Then the note, which she opened slowly

ꜰᴇʟɪᴢ ᴄᴜᴍᴘʟᴇᴀɴᴏs, ᴍɪ ᴀᴍᴏʀ. ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴍᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ. ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴀs ᴘᴏʀ sᴇʀ ᴍɪ ʜᴏɢᴀʀ. –ᴍᴀɴɴʏ

“Manny…” she gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth and she knelt down slowly to take a closer look at the items in front of her.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s not much. But I wanted it to feel like a real day. A good one.”

Sidney turned to look at him, eyes shining. She reached for him and beckoned him to come join her 

“This is the best thing anyone’s done for me since the world ended.”

Many moved to sit beside her, their knees touching on the blanket. 

“You remember what I told you that night in the library?” he asked her softly. “When you thought I was losing it?”

She nodded slowly and giggled, “You said, ‘If I die tomorrow, I want you to know—I’ve only ever been sure of two things in this life. That I love you … and that I always will.’”

“I meant it then,” he said. “I still do.”

Sidney reached out and grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him into a kiss. It was soft, slow, full of warmth—like the kind of thing people used to do when they had a home to return to. Her curls brushed his cheek. His hand cupped her jaw like she was the most fragile thing in the world. When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.

“You know this means you’re setting the bar,” she whispered.

“I plan to beat it every year,” he whispered back.

They stayed in the cabin all afternoon. The hoodie fit perfectly. She wore it with the sleeves pulled over her hands, the way she used to back when they were teenagers. They split the protein bar down the middle and toasted with lukewarm cocoa like it was champagne. Sidney lay on her side later, curled into him, cheek on his chest. She traced slow circles on the back of his hand.

“You think we’ll ever stop running?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Manny said. “Someday. We’ll find a place. Somewhere green. Somewhere quiet.”

“You still want that radio repair shop?”

“With the chickens,” he said with a grin.

“You don’t know shit about chickens.”

“I’ll learn. For you.”

Sidney looked up at him, those dark brown eyes so full of love it made his chest ache. She was quiet for several moments, her eyes tracing his face, neck, shoulders—like he might disappear.  

“You’ve always been home, Manny,” she whispered, finally breaking the silence, “even when everything else disappeared.”

He kissed her forehead. “And you’ve always been worth fighting for.”

They left just before sunset. Sidney carried the wildflowers in one hand and wore the hoodie like armor. Manny walked beside her, fingers brushing hers. The world was still ending. Still cruel. But for one golden day, in a ruined cabin in the woods, Manny gave Sidney a birthday the world never would have allowed otherwise. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t safe. But for one day, in a place full of ghosts, Manny and Sidney remembered what it felt like to be alive—and to be loved.

[stuckinthesun]

“You got a little something…” Sanji x Fem!Reader

Kinktober — Week One: Food play (whipped cream), semi-public sex, against a wall, desperate

When you guys docked The Sunny at the nearest Island, your guy’s plan had been the usual one: split up, stock up, load up, move on. But when the crew got to the main village of the small island to see the townspeople in the midst of setting up for a large Halloween party, the plans instantly changed.

Luffy was more than happy to invite himself and his crew to this village's festivities and, of course, put his friends to work to make up for their intrusion. You and Sanji were obviously put on food and drink, getting no complaints from your boyfriend as he was already talking to the local chef about tonight's menu.

You smile at the blonde fondly and follow after him, ready to be his sue chef.

Hours later, the town was a beautiful sight. Pumpkins, both carved and plain, decorated the steps of the buildings; orange lights glittered in the trees, and all kinds of spooky Halloween decorations were set up on the main street, making the local kids laugh.

It was nice, and the townspeople were so lively and festive. You couldn’t wait to go out there and enjoy it after finishing your job serving food to everyone.

“Darling, please, I can handle this myself,” Sanji complained again as he came towards you with another stack of delicious food to be passed out, “grab some food for yourself and enjoy the party.”

You smiled at him, taking the tray of food from him and handing him your empty one, “Now, how am I supposed to enjoy the party without my date, hmm?”

Sanji’s cheeks flush bright red, making you giggle.

“Sorry, baby! I’m almost done, I promise! I’ll be out to enjoy the party with you soon, don’t you worry!” Your boyfriend shouted much too loudly as he started running back to the kitchen, bumping into people as he went. You just smiled at him and nodded before turning around and batting away the rubber hand that tried to steal another helping of food.

After you finish serving the last of the food, you don’t get to see Sanji again for twenty minutes as he helped the local chef clean up. As you waited for your boyfriend to join you for the night, you got yourself a drink, finally allowing yourself to unwind.

“I’m here!” You hear a familiar voice call out, and you smile as you turn to see Sanji jogging up to you, “I’m here, my sweet!”

“Never doubted you,” You chuckled, giving him a kiss when he finally made it to you.

“And as an apology for making you wait,” Sanji beamed a cheeky smirk at you as he held out a plate. You looked down and saw a delicious-looking dessert with what looked like freshly whipped cream, making your eyes widen.

“Did you seriously make all of this? Is that a short amount of time?” You ask, taking the plate from him.

“What, you doubt my skills?”

“Of course not.” You roll your eyes with a smile and take a bite of the dessert.

Instantly your eyes close and an involuntary moan escape’s your lips at the sweet taste. Sanji’s cooking is always flawless, but his baking is almost just as good.

“Gods this is amazing,” You mumble, looking up at your boyfriend to see him staring at you with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“I’m glad.” He said quietly, voice sounding like it was caught in his throat.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Are you-“

“Have another bite.” Sanji quickly cut you off, almost demanding, as he nodded his head towards your dessert.

You narrowed your eyes and slowly took another bite. This time when you bit into your treat, a smear of whipped cream got on your cheek.

You sighed, ready to ask your boyfriend to grab you a napkin, when he reached up, cupped your chin, and pressed his thumb against your skin. Slowly, Sanji began to smear the cream along your lips before sliding his thumb between them, forcing the whipped cream inside.

Eyes widening, your grip on the dessert plate tightened as you stood there shocked. You instinctually began to suck on the digit in your mouth, feeling heat pool between your legs as you watched Sanji’s eyes stay fixated on your lips wrapped around his thumb, almost like he was in a trance.

Sanji’s gaze seemed to grow hungrier as he started sliding his thumb from your mouth, the whipped cream now licked clean, and pulling your bottom lip down along with it.

Finally his eyes met yours again.

“Do you mind if I keep you from the party just a little longer, Doll?” Sanji muttered, and you shook your head immediately.

Without another word, Sanji grabbed you by the hand and began pulling you between buildings, trying to get as far from the party as possible. You scramble to set your dessert down on a nearby table as you’re dragged away, knowing for sure that Luffy will find it before you return.

Anticipation tingled your skin and you quickly followed behind him. You had honestly never seen your boyfriend like that before, and it heated your core to see the pure want in his eyes.

The moment Sanji deems the two of you far enough away, he has you pressed up against a wall in a desperate kiss.

You sigh into the kiss, reaching up to grip him by his dress shirt and pull him closer. Sanji pushed himself flush against you, rolling his hips against yours, letting you feel just how hard he already is.

You pull back from the kiss, “Fuck Sanji, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

“Dunno,” The blond mumbles, leaning down to kiss along your neck making you moan, “Just need you.”

With a nod you slid your hands down his torso, unbuttoning his dress pants and untucking his dress shirt. Sanji’s hands trailed along your thighs and up your skirt to grip your panties, yanking them down in one fluid motion.

“Fuck~” You hiss when the cool air hits your warm center, making you want to close your legs and rub your thighs together.

You don’t even get the chance as you’re suddenly picked up, legs wrapping around Sanji’s waist as he suddenly buries himself inside of you.

“O-oh gods! Sa-Sanji!” You cry out, tears flooding your eyes at the sudden intrusion.

“Couldn’t wait anymore, Princess.” Is Sanji’s response, his voice sounding deeper than usual, “I’m sorry I promise to make you feel so good.”

“Please,” You whimper, holding onto your boyfriend for dear life. His long cock fills you so well, just kissing your cervix and driving you nuts.

You want him to move.

“Fuck.” Sanji groans and gives you just what you need.

He starts thrusting up into you hard and fast, his powerful leg’s useful for more than just fighting. Both of you moan loudly and cling onto each other tighter. Sanji’s face is tucked against your neck, dragging open mouth against your skin while you grip fistfuls of his hair.

It’s all so much; you can still hear the music from the party, see the orange light’s glittering in Sanji’s hair, watch your breath in the cool October night air.

You can feel how his cock hits your sweet spot just right, every time. Causing shivers to go down your spine and loud moans to pass your lips.

Heat builds in your abdomen until you can’t hold it anymore, “Sanji I’m gonna-“

“Me too, love,” Sanji grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppy in a telltale sign of his own orgasm, “Fuck, baby, me too. Cum for me, don’t be shy.”

“Sanji!” You cry out, cumming hard with only his cock inside of you.

The feeling of you cumming around him pulled Sanji off the edge right along with you, making him spill inside of you.

The two of you just stayed like that for a minute, panting against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

After a little bit, Sanji pulled away and looked at you sheepishly, “Sorry about all… that.”

You blink at him before smirking slowly, “I don’t know, I kinda like it. Maybe I should’ve brought the dessert and let you lick some of the whipped cream off of me.”

You felt his now soft dick inside of you twitch and slowly begin to harden again.

You look at him.

Sanji looks at you.

You’ll definitely have to remember this.

Let’s pretend I didn’t get really sick and actually was able to post this on week one AND that the ending isn’t rushed okay

[milkb0nny]

Burgundy Leaves

Ivar The Boneless x gn!reader

Comfortember Day 3: Leaves Changing

Summary: You and your little sister decided to take a stroll through the forest to collect the colorful leaves of autumn. While you both ate some freshly made buns and played catch, you accidentally bumped into Ivar.

Note: Okay... I'm fangirling. This one kinda hit me a little harder than it should. It's so wholesome.

Warnings: none

word count: 999

With the arrival of the cooler season autumn, the leaves slowly turned from a bright green to a sensation of colors. The dense, towering trees of the forest beckoned, their leaves glowing with the fiery hues of autumn. It was a world of vibrant reds, golds and oranges - a symphony of colors that enchanted your senses. This was the kind of season where you felt most alive, and the beauty of the forest had always been your refuge.

Whenever the temperatures dropped the people in Kattegat knew to prepare for winter, equipping themselves with wood, blankets and a food storage. Although the colder season might not be everyone’s favorite, you quite liked it. You had a younger sister, named Ingrid, who also waited for autumn every single year. Therefore, the day you noticed the significant change in the leaves, you took her by her hand and dragged her into the town of Kattegat. Before you made your way into the forest, you stopped by a small stall. You knew the owner of the shop quite well because you had been buying freshly baked buns every other day. After putting the still steaming baking goods in your picnic basket, you and your sibling started your journey.

While you entered the nearby forest, the sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, creating a mosaic of light and shadow on the forest floor. The rustle of leaves beneath your feet and the chorus provided a soothing function.

Your sister ran free, catching falling leaves, collecting the most beautiful artworks by nature and eating snacks out of the picnic basket here and there. A bright smile covered your lips while you watched Ingrid being a happy child.

“Can we play catch, y/n?” She asked you, her eyes flickering in hope.

You answered, “Sure, I’ll count to ten and then I’ll come get you!”

The loud giggles emerged from your younger sister, as her feet made their way through the familiar collection of trees. Shortly after you reached the number ten, you began to run after her.

Suddenly, you trip over a thick branch as you ran around the corner. Though, your lovable face did not hit the hard ground.

With a soft gasp, you stumbled backward as you made contact with Ivar's firm, armored chest. The surprise was mirrored in his cobalt blue eyes as you looked up, a sudden rush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“Y/n!” Ingrid screamed, speeding back to you immediately. “Did you hurt yourself?”

You shook your head, smiling awkwardly.

“I'm so sorry," you stammered, glancing at the tall man, your voice tinged with guilt. "I didn't see you coming. Are you alright, Ivar?"

You felt his icy eyes inspecting every single inch of you, thus made you flush. In all secrecy you owned a soft spot for Ivar. Of course you weren’t in a very deep relationship, but from time to time you helped him, accompanied him or cooked him dinner, whenever he didn’t want to eat with his own family.

“It appears we were both lost in our own little worlds," he replied, smiling softly.

Your sister, confused about the romantic tension between the both of you, distracted herself with collecting more leaves. Ivar studied Ingrid for a moment, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his lips.

“You are collecting leaves? A simple yet beautiful pursuit." Ivar grinned at your sister, who picked out a beautiful red maple leaf. She turned around and gifted it to Ivar, expressing her appreciation. Your heart warmed up at that sight, since he was so gentle with your little sister.

Ingrid’s high voice chimed in with enthusiasm, "Would you like to join us, Ivar? I’ll make you your own crown out of red leaves!"

Ivar, usually not so fond of children, appreciated your little sister a lot. She was honest and kind, unlike many other kids who lived in Kattegat. On top of that, the Viking loved one particular person who was linked to Ingrid - you.

Ivar considered the offer for a moment before a playful glint entered his eyes.

"Very well, little Lady. I shall accompany you,” he accepted, watching her happily run off to guide Ivar and you.

As you continued to explore the forest together, you couldn't help but be captivated by Ivar's presence. Since he had learned how to walk with his crutches, his tall body always surprised you. You liked him, crawling or walking, it didn’t matter to you.

You and Ingrid led the way to the most unique spots in the forest, where the trees cast long and the colors of autumn were most resplendent. Ingrid collected leaves of rich burgundy, while you gathered those of gold and orange. Ivar watched the scene with a hint of awe in his eyes. Ivar's gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The connection between you deepened - you felt like you were the only two souls in the whole forest. Ingrid, ever the perceptive one, excused herself to give the two of you some privacy.

Ivar leaned closer, his presence filling your senses as he whispered, "Y/n, there’s something immaculate about you. I hope we won’t grow apart."

Red hues rushed over your cheeks, your fingers fidgeted with the fur of your coat and you unconsciously bit the skin of your bottom lip while you let his words swallow you whole. You barely could form a sentence under the embarrassment.

“Ivar, no. I apologize, I mean, I’ll always accompany you. Wherever you go,” you stuttered slightly, staring into the blue, vibrant eyes which formed a perfect contrast with the orange hues of autumn. As the forest whispered its melody and the leaves rustled, Ivar closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. His lips molded perfectly against yours, igniting passion that had smoldered beneath the surface.

A kiss you never forgot - your first one under the rain of changing leaves.

[littleslaywrites]

silent night | spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer and you celebrate your first christmas as parents

word count: 1.7k

cw: pure fluff

The house was quiet for once. Both Spencer and Laurence were asleep, and you probably should be, too, but you couldn’t help but indulge in the moment. You had just had your first Christmas with Spencer as a family of three. Spencer had his arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck, the colored lights outside shining through the blinds and reflecting on his brown curls. You could hear his steady breathing in your ear. 

Laurence was too young to understand the holiday, but that didn’t stop you two from spoiling him. The gifts under the tree had piled up as the team pampered your new baby. He’d been born in early November, so you’d assumed that all of his gifts would double as Christmas presents. You should’ve known your friends would never let that stand, simply giving him twice the gifts. Garcia and Rossi had been the main culprits, the back of their cars piled high with gifts when they came to visit. That being said, the rest of the team was also guilty of pampering your family. Emily said that Laurence was the whole team’s grandchild, since everyone had basically seen Reid grow up at the BAU. 

When you woke up that morning, Spencer was already awake, the smell of cinnamon rolls drifting through the house. You had been awake late last night to feed the baby, and Spencer turned off your alarm to let you sleep while he cooked. He didn’t cook much, but he could manage putting the premade rolls onto a baking sheet. He’s washing the tray when you come in. He beams at the sight of you, even though you can only assume that your hair is a rat's nest and the dark circles under your eyes are more noticeable than your eyes themselves. 

“Good morning,” he says, frosting a cinnamon bun. He hands it to you, and you take it, savoring the sweetness. Washing his hands, he says, “I thought we’d wait to open presents until Laurey is up.”

You hum in agreement, too caught up in your breakfast to pause to speak. The two of you sit at the stools along the kitchen counter, silently enjoying your breakfast. Silence has been a common theme recently. When Laurence was sleeping, you did all you could to keep him asleep. Beyond that, it seemed like you didn’t have to speak to Spencer to be heard anymore. You two had gained an understanding that was beyond any words you could say. 

Halfway through your meal, Laurence’s cries tell you he’s awake. Spencer insists on getting him, wanting you to finish eating. 

You’re washing your plate when he comes out with the baby in his arms. The picture makes you smile, Spencer’s large frame practically swallowing Laurence up. You walk over to greet Laurence as he yawns. He’s stopped crying, comforted by his father’s presence. The three of you make your way to sit under the tree. You’ve been dying to open the gifts, even though Laurence won’t know what they are.

The first you open is from Penelope, a large gift bag. You pull out plushie after plushie. An elephant, dinosaur, koala, sheep, giraffe, and a monogrammed bunny. Spencer holds the bunny up to Laurence. “I think he likes it,” Spencer says, Laurence’s eyes trained on the soft toy. 

Next are small boxes, also from Garcia, all full of tiny outfits. She insisted on getting clothes, despite your warnings that he’d grow out of them. She’d told you that pictures of him in the outfits were worth it, even if they only got worn once. Unwrapping one of them, you hold up a onesie that reads “Future Genius”, making Spencer laugh softly.

You move on to a tall gift from Morgan, pulling the paper off to reveal a stack of baby books. “Maybe he’ll be a reader like you,” you say, holding up one of them. Spencer smiles at the thought, picturing bedtime stories and a library that grows along with your son. 

Then you start to work on Rossi’s pile of gifts. You unwrap the soft, plush fabric of a baby blanket, its pastel blue matching Laurence’s nursery perfectly. Your heart swells with affection as you run your hand over the embroidery of your baby's name. Another is a kit for making a mold of the baby’s hand and foot prints. “We should preserve these tiny hands before they grow too big,” Spencer says, Laurence’s palm wrapping around one of his fingers.

You pull a small box from Emily, opening it to reveal a tiny glass ornament shaped like a snowman. It reads “Laurence's First Christmas” and has a tiny picture of him above the writing. You hang it up on the tree, the ornament joining the ones you’d collected throughout your relationship with Spencer.

Finally, you get to JJ’s, a photo album with your baby’s name in cursive on the front. You flip through the pages. It has spots for his milestones, a record of his first year. Spencer loves it, as he keeps physical albums instead of storing pictures on his phone.

Laurence is back asleep by now, but Spencer decides not to bring him back to his crib, even if his arms are starting to get sore. “You are so loved, Laurey,” you say, leaning over to whisper to his sleeping form. You feel overly spoiled, knowing there’s no way to pay the team back for all their generosity, both in their gifts and their support. 

“Open that one,” Spencer says, nodding at a little box with a bow on it. He’s smiling, anticipating your reaction. He truly knows you better than you know yourself, so you know you’ll love whatever he got you. You raise the lid of the box, finding a necklace with three small stones on it. “It’s our birthstones,” he says. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say. “Help me put it on”. He hands you the baby so he can help, closing the clasp while holding up your hair. You thank him, keeping Laurence in your arms so Spencer can open his gift. You got him sweaters and a stack of photos. 

“I should’ve put them in an album, but I never got around to it,” you say. You’d been so busy with the baby that you hardly had time to wrap anything.

“It’s perfect.” He leans in to kiss you lightly, maneuvering around where Laurence lays in your arms. “You already gave me the greatest gift I could ask for,” he says, running his thumb through your baby's sparse hair, admiring how his tiny eyes flutter as he sleeps. 

At the bottom of the pile of gifts, you find a small envelope addressed to Laurence. “I know he can’t really appreciate anything right now,” he says as he picks it up, “so I wrote something for him to open when he’s a little older.” He explains that it details all his thoughts and emotions from Laurey’s first month, Spencer planning on giving it to him on some special occasion when he’s older. 

You smile at the gesture. You’d never imagined that you could be so overwhelmed with love. Spencer had loved you more than anyone ever had, showering you with his affection since your very first date. Somehow, he managed to love your son even more. He’d been attentive and caring, albeit a bit protective about the two of you. Often you found yourself thanking the universe for bringing him into your life, as you couldn’t imagine a more perfect father for your child. 

Laurence fusses a little, and you decide it’s time to return him to his nursery. Spencer takes him back, rocking back and forth to calm his cooing.

The sound of the radio playing “Silent Night” fills the room, and for a moment, you’re transported back in time. It’s the song Spencer played the first Christmas you spent together, one of his records being a Christmas album. You remember how shy he was, how you had to convince him to buy a real tree, but now, with Laurence in his arms, you see how much the two of you have grown. 

There's a quiet smile on his lips, an expression you've come to know as his thinking face. You stand slowly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I never thought I’d have this,” Spencer whispers. 

You kiss him on the cheek. “You’re an amazing dad, Spencer.” He smiles, eyes glistening with happy tears. He keeps saying becoming a father has made him soft, every little thing his child does bringing him to a whimpering mess. Last week, Laurence had lifted his head for the first time, and he joked that he cried more than the baby does.

Placing a small kiss on your forehead, he takes the baby away. You watch them walk off, gently sitting down on the couch and savoring the warmth of the fireplace.

The rest of the day is business as usual, the two of you taking turns caring for Laurence. In between, you watch festive movies, resting while you can. Spencer holds you tight as you watch It’s a Wonderful Life. “Here’s to my big brother George, the richest man in town,” one of the characters says. He smiles, and with your head on his shoulder and his baby sleeping in the other room, he feels quite rich himself. By dinner time, the two of you are exhausted enough to resign to ordering takeout. You pair a pizza with hot chocolate, as traditional as you can manage.  

As the day fades and the house becomes bathed in the warm glow of the Christmas lights, you fall asleep on Spencer’s shoulder. He carries you to bed, gentle to avoid waking you during one of your rare moments of rest. He still holds you like you’ll break. He’d researched the impacts of birth on the body, doting on you even when you protested. At this point, you could only assume he’d never give it up, forever treating you like you were made out of glass. 

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night, savoring the silence. At some point, Laurey will cry, needing to be fed. But for now, there’s nothing but the feeling of your first of many Christmases as a family and the love you have for your two boys.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Baking Christmas Cookies » Lee Bodecker

Week of December 22nd-28th

Pairings: Husband!Lee Bodecker x Wife!Reader

Summary: Lee comes home from work to you baking Christmas cookies and decides to help you.

Warnings: none except Fluff

Prompt: Baking/Cooking from @buck-star’s Fluffy Winter Event

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

Divider made by me

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

“I smell something good.” Lee says as he closed the door after he walked in the house.

Lee went to the kitchen to see you making cookies. Christmas cookies to be exact. He smiles when he sees you wearing the apron he bought you not too long ago. He walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You smiled and melted into your husband’s touch.

“Hi, baby.” You greeted him, turning your head enough to kiss him.

“Hi, sugar.” He kisses you back. “You making Christmas cookies?” He asks, already knowing the answer to the question.

“Yes I am.” You answered with a smile. “Wanna help?” You asked.

“Yes.” He kisses you once more. “Let me get changed first.” He says.

Lee kissed your cheek before going to the bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. He went back to the kitchen to see you taking a tray of cookies out of the oven and putting another batch in there.

“What do you want me to do, darlin’?” He asks, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“Frost those cookies and put sprinkles on them please.” You say sweetly.

Lee looked at the cookies before frosting them. He smiles when he notices that you made them into a shapes of Christmas trees and snowflakes.

Lee started frosting the cookies and put sprinkles on them. About halfway through the first tray, he ate one without you noticing. At least he thinks you didn’t notice when you actually did.

“Frosting cookies and putting sprinkles on them doesn’t involve eating them, Lee.” You jokingly say.

“Are you denying your husband, who’s the sheriff, your amazingly delicious cookies?” Lee jokingly asks.

“So what if I was?” You said with a small giggle. “What’re you gonna do about it?” You asked.

Lee chuckles softly and walked closer to you. He trapped you in between his body and the counter. He put his hands on the counter so you couldn’t try to escape.

“I could arrest you for it.” He murmurs softly.

“On what charges, Sheriff?” You giggled, looking up at your husband.

“Denied of a sweet treat.” He answers. “That’s a crime.” He says jokingly.

“Oh, then you better handcuff me and lock me up, Sheriff.” You giggled.

“Too bad I left the handcuffs in the car so I’ll let you off with a warning, sugar.” He says, leaning his face closer to yours.

Lee couldn’t help but kiss you. He wrap one of his arms around your waist and pulled you against his body. You put your hands on his chest, rubbing them from his chest to his shoulders. You two smiled against each other’s lips. He pulled away from your lips to lean his forehead against yours. The smile stayed on his face.

“I love you so much, darlin’.” Lee almost whispers.

“I love you more, baby.” You say softly, rubbing your hands against his shoulders.

You and Lee gazed in each other’s eyes for a moment longer before going back to frosting and putting sprinkles on cookies.

“Do you want to watch Christmas movies when we’re done?” You asked.

“Only if we can drink hot chocolate while watching them.” He says.

“Of course there’s going to be hot chocolate. That’s the only way to watch Christmas movies.” You say with a smile.

“Sounds like a plan to me, sugar.” He smiles back.

-Bucky’s Doll