#thanksgiving imagines

[bloatedandalone04]

Every Breath You Take

➪the one where it’s the one year anniversary of the rightmart massacre and your boyfriend is hellbent on keeping you safe.

Warnings: spoilers for thanksgiving 2023, angst, fluff, mentions of death, death, mentions of kidnapping, descriptions of death, mentions of blood, swearing, think that is it..?

Word Count: 2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Come on, Ry, please?” You begged as you tugged on your boyfriend’s arm. You were standing outside your high school’s doors as you pleaded with him in hopes he’d actually agree to be part of the parade with you. “Things have been really scary lately and I really want you to be up there with me. It’d make me feel a lot better.”

Ryan sighed as he looked down at you. His eyes searched yours before dipping down to your lips that were curved in a pout. He shook his head as a smile ghosted on his mouth. “It’d really make you feel better? To have me up there with you?” His tone held a hint of teasing to it, but he wasn’t at all making fun of you. Truth be told, he was pretty fucking scared, too, despite him not being part of the RightMart massacre. He didn’t really want to be away from you right now, either, but only because he was terrified to think about what may happen to you if he were to leave you alone for more than a few hours, since you had been in the store at the time of the stampede. 

You nod and move closer to him as various students rush around the two of you. “It really would,”

Ryan slipped his hands into your jacket pockets and pulled your body right up against his. “Then I guess I’ll be joining you and your friends on that dumb RightMart float in the parade,” he caved and was helpless to stop the smile from forming on his lips when you grinned up at him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He kissed you quickly, his hands sliding up your back as his lips meshed with yours. “And I don’t want you feeling scared, okay? Nothing will happen to you as long as I’m here, I promise.”

You smile up at him and gently massage the back of his neck with the tips of your fingers. “You don’t need to protect me, Ryan,” you murmur. “I’m partly responsible for what happened last year, I mean, I was there, I was in the store, I-”

“Y/n,” he cut you off sternly, pulling away so he could look you in the eye. “You had nothing to do with any of it, okay? You weren’t even supposed to be there, you-....This John Carver guy has no reason to go after you, alright? And he won’t. I promise you that.”

“Ryan-”

“I promise, baby,” he reiterated, refusing to break eye contact until you gave him a hesitant nod. “Okay?”

You nod again and move to rest your head against his chest. “Okay,” you agreed. “But I need you to promise me that you won’t do anything reckless in order to protect me or something. The second things go wrong or bad or whatever, we leave, okay? We get the fuck out of there, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt for me, especially since you weren’t even there when things went down at RightMart.”

Ryan kissed the top of your head and ran his hand up and down your back, comforting you wordlessly. “I promise,”

-

You hold onto the edge of the box you were sitting on as the RightMart float slowly makes its way down the street. Ryan was sitting in front of you but lower down, his legs draped off the side of it. Scuba was in the same position across the float with Jess sitting behind him, also on a box.

Without meaning to, your eyes flicker all over the street, as if the killer would be dumb enough to show up to the parade wearing the John Carver costume and wreak havoc. 

You lift your hand and wave at the people of Plymouth, forcing out a fake smile as you acted like everything was okay. Having Ryan so close helped a bit, like you knew it would, but now you felt like you were putting him in danger since you had to stupidly agreed to follow in after Evan and Gabby when they decided they just had to get him a new phone last year and get into RightMart before everyone else. 

Sure, you stayed by the back door for most of the time, and the second you saw Mitch’s wife, Amanda, get some of her hair scalped off you were screaming bloody murder as you and Jess held onto each other. 

It was then when you wished you had said yes when Ryan had offered to take you to the Thanksgiving party earlier, before you ever walked into that store. You weren’t even together at the time but you were both crushing hard on each other, why didn’t you say yes? You could have prevented yourself from being on the killer’s radar if you had just pushed aside your thoughts and left with him when you had the chance. 

Now your life was in danger, and Ryan’s was, too, by default and association. 

You drop your hand onto his shoulder as you make eye contact with a man in a John Carver mask, completed with the full pilgrim outfit. Fear fills your body and you squeeze Ryan a bit more, making him look up at you. He and Scuba had ditched the hats so they wouldn’t be obstructing your view, so you were able to clearly meet his eyes. “What? What’s wrong, baby?” His deep voice asked you, dropping his own fake smile and nearly getting out of character completely as he turned towards you.

You look away and at the spot where the John Carver rip-off was standing a few seconds ago, finding him gone. With your heart loud in your ears, you look back down at him with a so clearly forced smile. “Nothing, Ry,” you tried to assure him but you knew he would be able to see right through you. “I just thought I saw him.”

Ryan leaned closer to you and took your hand in his. “I don’t think he’d be dumb enough to show up here,” he was much better at comforting you. “You heard the sheriff’s plan. This will work.” 

You nod down at him just as Mitch moves to protest against RightMart. The float comes to a haunt, making your grip on Ryan tighten a bit as you both turn to look at Mitch. 

After the deputy pushed him off the road, the float began to move again and you lifted your hand in an embarrassed wave, as did Ryan and the others. 

You keep your other one locked in his as you whisper, “I don’t like this,”

Ryan glanced up at you. “We’re fine, babe, really. He won’t do anything with this many people around-” he was cut off when a person dressed in a clown costume cut the head of the person in the turkey mascot clean off. 

You let out a surprised scream as the float came to a skidding stop, sending the prop boat you were on sliding forward until it went through the back window of the truck. The sudden stop had Ryan’s hand slipping from yours as he fell off the side of it, as did Scuba. 

The sounds of screaming filled your ears as you leaned over the side to check if Ryan was okay. Your head was spinning a bit as you watched him stand back up and grip his forehead with one hand, his other reaching out for you. 

You take it and allow him to help you off the side of the float, and it was then when you saw how the front of it went straight through the driver’s face, surely killing him instantly. “Oh, my God,” you gasp out as Ryan pulls you into his side and tries to shield your eyes. You look up at him and notice the large cut he had on his forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

But he wasn’t concerned about it at all. “Come on,” he said as he pulled you away from the chaos. “We need to get out of here.”

You follow him along the street as various clouds of smoke invade your sight. “I can’t see,” you say over the sounds of screams. “Ryan, where are we going? What the fuck is happening?” 

“Just hold onto my hand,” he called back as he pulled you through the crowd. “Don’t let go, okay? Whatever you do, don’t let go of me.”

You nod and grip his bicep as he pulls you into the alleyway between two stores. Blue and green smoke still surrounds you as Ryan ditches the pilgrim shirt and you take it from him immediately with your free hand. “Stay still,” you murmur as you wipe away the blood from his face with the shirt, successfully staining it. “He just killed someone, Ryan. He killed that guy right fucking in front of us.”

Ryan gently pushed your hand away and dropped the shirt to the ground, his hands tightly gripping your forearms. “We need to get out of here,” he said sternly, looking over to see if the smoke cleared enough to be able to make out where he was going. “Now.”  

“Wait,” you call out as he begins to guide you away from the chaos. “What about Jess? And Scuba? We need to find them.”

Ryan shook his head as he turned to face you. “In this mess? Baby, we can’t see a fucking thing right now. Let’s just get out first then-” he cut himself off when the sound of a siren was heard, which was followed by a cop car speeding past the two of you. “Serve and protect my ass.” He muttered at the fleeing car before he resumed his task of getting you away from this street. 

“We can’t leave them,” you tried to say but he wasn’t having it. 

You are his top priority at the moment and you have been since the second things became official between the two of you a mere year ago. Actually, maybe even before that. “We can’t worry about them right now,” he mumbled as you and he finally made it to an area that had very little smoke in it. “We have to get the fuck away from all of this first.” 

“But, Ryan-”

“But nothing,” he cut you off as he came to a stop, finally giving your arm a break. “We can’t go back for them, okay? Not when he might still be back there somewhere. The police aren’t doing fuckall to keep you guys safe, clearly. I’ll do it myself by getting you away from here.”

He tried to get you to go with him, but the guilt was slowly taking over your body. “They’re our friends, Ry, we can’t just leave without knowing they’re okay,”

“I’m not losing you,” he nearly yelled as he turned back around to face you. You almost bump into him at the abrupt stop but his hands on your biceps steady you instantly. “Someone was just fucking decapitated in broad daylight, Y/n, why the fuck would we go back there? This isn’t a game, he wants everyone involved in that night dead, and that includes you. I’m not losing you, okay? I won’t. Especially not to some prick in a fucking John Carver costume.”

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you looked up at your boyfriend, who was clearly running on pure adrenaline right now. While you desperately wanted to go back and find Jess and Scuba, you knew it was a bad idea when it could be you who gets killed next. 

Ryan was just trying to protect you, like he said he would back when things began going down hill. And he was right. Gabby and Evan were already missing, you could be taken, too, at any given second. You needed to get away, save yourselves, first. Then maybe you could help once everything settled down again. 

You reach up and grip his white tee as the first of many tears fell from your wide eyes. “Okay,” you weakly agree, taking his hand in yours. “Okay, we need to go.” 

Ryan gave you a conflicted smile as he pressed a hard kiss to your forehead and tightened his hold on your hand before leading you even further away from the destroyed parade.

[chloe-skywalker]

Holiday Imagine Masterlist

~

By @chloe-skywalker

Main Masterlist

*= Requested

(Updated version of this masterlist)

New Years (Eve & Day:

Midnight Kiss - Bucky Barnes (Avengers)

Valentines Day:

Dead Valentines - Joker & Harleys Quinns Daughter

Secret Valentines Day Plans - Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things)

Love - Bucky Barnes (Avengers)

I Think I'm In Love With You - Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things)

St Patrick's Day:

Leprechaun Traps - Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

Easter:

~ Easter Celebrations - Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things)

May The 4th/Force Be With You:

May The 4th Be With You - Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Independance Day (USA):

Way Better - Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things)

Halloween:

Halloween Party - Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things)

Thanksgiving:

Your Part Of My Family - Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things)

Christmas (Eve & Day):

I Gave You My Heart - Jason Todd / Joker's Daughter (DC)

Mistletoe - Bucky Barnes (Avengers)

Last Christmas - Angel/Warren Worthington III (X-MEN)

At Least One - Roman Godfrey (Hemlock Grove)

Your Invited - Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf)

Queen Christmas Party - Oliver Queen (DC/Arrow)

Ex's and Jealously - Jason Dilaurentis (Pretty Little Lairs)

New Christmas Plans - Jason Todd / Joker & Harley's daughter (DC)

No Plans - Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things)

Part #2

Part #3

Chestnuts Roasting - young Sirius Black (Harry Potter)

Avenger's & Family - Peter Parker (Avengers)

Dog Sledding & Sleigh Rides - Sirius Black (Harry Potter)

Catching Snowflakes - Regulus Black (Harry Potter)

A Little Early? - Bucky Barnes (Avengers)

For Christmas? You - Sirius Black (Harry Potter)

Nice Break - Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead)

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　BOSTON FOR THANKSGIVING

chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N goes back to Boston with Chris and his brothers for Thanksgiving.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @smileymilee

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I'm sorry if I couldn't create the whole Thanksgiving vibe correctly, we don't commemorate it on Brazil, so I don't know how it follows traditionally.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The crisp November air bit at Y/N’s cheeks as she followed Chris up the stone walkway leading to the Sturniolo family home. The familiar house with its neatly trimmed hedges and warmly lit windows looked just as welcoming as it had last year, but this time, Y/N felt more at home. It was her second Thanksgiving with Chris and his family, and she already knew what awaited her inside: love, warmth, and a fair bit of chaos.

Chris shifted the bags he was carrying and glanced back at her.

"You ready?" He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N nodded, her own smile spreading wide.

"Always."

The front door swung open by Nick before Chris could even reach for the handle. A blur of caramel fur darted out, running between the boy's legs while barking excitedly.

"Trevor!" Y/N squealed, dropping her own bags instantly. She knelt on the porch, arms open wide as the family dog launched himself into her embrace. His tail wagged furiously, and Y/N giggled as he licked her face with enthusiasm.

Chris stood above them, shaking his head with an amused chuckle.

"Guess I know where I stand." He teased, adjusting the straps of the duffel bags on his shoulders before bending slightly and taking her dropped bags, throwing it over his free arm.

Y/N grinned up at him, scratching behind Trevor’s ears.

"You know you’re second to Trevor." She quipped before pressing a kiss to the dog’s head, inhaling his comforting Dog Shampoo scent.

The sound of hurried footsteps approached, and Mary Lou appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

"There’s my crew!" She exclaimed, her face lighting up at the sight of her boys. She rushed forward, pulling each of them into tight hugs.

"Hi, Mom." Matt said, his voice muffled by her embrace.

"Missed you, Ma." Nick added, smiling fondly as she kissed his cheek lovingly.

When Mary Lou turned to Y/N, her expression softened even more.

"Oh, my sweet girl!" She said, pulling her up and into a hug so warm and tight, it could melt the chill of a Boston winter.

Y/N’s heart swelled.

"I missed you so much." She murmured, squeezing her back.

Mary Lou pulled back just enough to cup Y/N’s face, her eyes bright with affection.

"Missed you too, honey. How’s everything? You’ll have to catch me up on all the details."

"I have so much to tell you." Y/N replied eagerly, already feeling herself slip into the comfort of their mother-daughter dynamic.

"Well, come on then!" Mary Lou laughed, tugging Y/N’s hand and leading her toward the kitchen without so much as a glance back at the boys or their luggage.

Chris watched them go, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

"Every time." He muttered, stepping inside with the bags still slung over his shoulders.

Nick snickered.

"We’re chopped liver the moment Y/N shows up."

"Facts." Matt added, grabbing his duffel and heading toward the living room.

As they piled the bags near the staircase, footsteps creaked from upstairs. Jimmy appeared at the top of the stairs, adjusting his glasses as he surveyed the scene.

"Hey, boys!" He called, his voice booming with warmth.

"Hey, Dad!" They chorused, looking up at him.

Jimmy descended the steps, grinning. But when he noticed the absence of Y/N, his grin widened knowingly.

"Let me guess, your mother already stole Y/N, didn’t she?"

Chris laughed, tossing a jacket over the banister.

"Yep. She didn’t even give us a chance to finish saying hi."

Jimmy chuckled, clapping a hand on Chris’s shoulder.

"Sounds about right. That girl’s practically her daughter at this point."

"Don’t we know it." Matt said, rolling his eyes playfully.

In the kitchen, Y/N perched on a stool at the island, recounting stories to Mary Lou as Trevor curled up at her feet. The smell of freshly baked pies filled the air, and the warmth of the room seemed to wrap around Y/N like a blanket.

Mary Lou hung on her every word, her eyes sparkling.

"You’re such a delight." She said, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand. "I hope you know how much we love having you here."

Y/N smiled, her heart full.

"I love being here."

The sound of Jimmy entering the kitchen snapped them back to reality, his steps light but deliberate, making a beeline for Mary Lou, planting a quick kiss on the top of her head.

"Hey, hon." He greeted warmly before turning his attention to Y/N. "And there’s our star guest." He said with a broad smile, extending his arms for a hug.

"Hi, Jimmy!" Y/N replied, returning his embrace with the same warmth she always felt from him. "How's that cabin going?" She asked, remembering the small cabin that Jimmy mentioned during their last 'family call' - how Chris liked to call it, one that he'd been building himself.

"It's finally getting somewhere." He smiled proudly, receiving a gaze full of joy and love from Mary Lou.

"Oh! I just remembered that we need to make a quick trip to the supermarket." She folded her towel, looking up at Jimmy. "I thought we had everything, but we’re out of thyme, and I need more butter for the turkey."

The oldest nodded, already heading toward the door.

"I’ll grab the keys."

"Y/N, you okay holding down the fort?" Mary Lou asked, her voice tinged with both apology and trust.

"Of course." Y/N replied immediately, rolling up the sleeves of her green Harry Potter sweater. "I’ve got this."

Mary Lou smiled, her affection evident.

"Thank you. I'll be back in no time."

As the front door closed behind them, Y/N found herself alone in the kitchen. The comforting sounds of laughter and basketball from the living room filtered through as she turned her attention to the stove.

She moved with ease, stirring sauces, seasoning vegetables, and now chopping fresh herbs for the stuffing. Her movements were precise, her mind immersed in the rhythm of cooking.

"Hey, chef extraordinaire." Chris’s voice broke through the quiet.

Y/N glanced up briefly, spotting him leaning against the doorframe, his grin wide and teasing.

"Need something?" She asked, arching a brow before turning back to her task.

"Yeah." He said simply, stepping into the room. "You."

Before she could respond, she felt his long arms slide around her waist, his warmth enveloping her as he pressed gently against her back. His fingers interlocked over her stomach, and his lips brushed against her cheek in a lingering kiss.

"Chris." She murmured, her voice soft with a mix of exasperation and fondness. "I’m trying to cook."

"I know." He whispered against her ear, his voice low and velvety. His lips trailed a slow path along her jaw and down to her neck, leaving a series of soft kisses in their wake.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her hands stilling on the cutting board.

"You’re impossible." She said, her tone betraying her amusement.

"I’m thankful for you." He murmured, completely ignoring her comment, his lips brushing against her shoulder. "So, so thankful."

Her heart melted at his words, and she turned her head slightly, her cheeks flushed, but her smile unrestrained.

"You’re ridiculous." She said softly.

"And yet, you love me." He replied with a grin, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"I really do." She whispered back, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes, enjoying his gentle touch and soft perfume.

Their moment was interrupted by the slam of the front door and Mary Lou’s cheerful voice.

"We’re back!"

The sound of grocery bags being set down and Jimmy’s voice joining the mix signaled their return. Moments later, Mary Lou bustled into the kitchen, her sharp eyes landing immediately on Chris.

"Christopher Owen." She scolded, her tone firm but playful as she placed her hands on her hips. "What are you doing? Let that poor girl work!"

Chris straightened but didn’t release Y/N, grinning like a mischievous child caught in the act.

"I’m just showing her some love, Ma. There's nothing wrong with that."

Mary Lou swatted him lightly on the back of the head.

"Out! Go join your brothers in the living room and let her focus."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks still warm.

"It’s okay, Mary Lou. He wasn’t bothering me too much."

Mary Lou shook her head with a fond smile.

"Don’t defend him, sweetheart. He’ll take advantage of it."

"He totally will!" Nick's voice yelled from the living room, causing laughter to escape Y/N's mouth.

Chris sighed, finally letting go, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender.

"Fine, fine. But for the record, I’m still thankful for you."

He winked at Y/N as he left the kitchen, his retreat punctuated by his brothers’ teasing from the living room.

Mary Lou sighed, her affection for her son shining through even her exasperation.

"That boy." She muttered before turning to Y/N with a warm smile. "You’re a saint for putting up with him, you know."

Y/N paused, her knife hovering over the herbs before glancing toward the door where Chris had disappeared. A soft smile spread across her face, one filled with pure affection.

"I don’t think of it as 'putting up with him,'." She said, her voice warm and sincere. "Loving Chris is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I'm very thankful for him."

Mary Lou’s expression softened, her eyes glistening just slightly.

"Oh, sweetheart." She said, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand. "He’s lucky to have you. We all are."

Y/N smiled bashfully, her cheeks flushing as she returned to her task, but her heart felt lighter than ever.

[drewsephrry]

everybody moved on, help im still at the restaurant

[kiwriteswords]

Something To Be Thankful For

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: With Thanksgiving in the US next week, I could not help myself! Started writing this one last week and debated on posting, but here we are. Enjoy! Grateful for this community! (Also needed to post this before I move onto writing some Christmas content, lol!)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags/Warnings: Thanksgiving, fluff, domestic moments, holiday traditions, family dynamics, slow burn, new relationship, found family, mentions of grief, mentions of wine/alcohol, and food TW.

Sypnosis: When you accept an unexpected Thanksgiving invitation from Aaron Hotchner and his son Jack, a simple holiday dinner becomes something more. Through shared laughter, heartfelt moments, and the warmth of a home-cooked meal, you discover the beauty of connection and the quiet joy of being exactly where you belong.

You were shuffling papers into your go-bag when you heard a knock on the edge of your desk. Glancing up, you were greeted by Hotch’s warm smile, softer than the one he wore in the field but still undeniably him. It was a smile you’d only recently gotten used to—the kind of smile that reminded you things between the two of you were no longer strictly professional.

The bullpen was quieter than usual. Most of the team had already left for the extended Thanksgiving break. Morgan had been the first to bolt, teasing everyone about having a “real” meal with family, while Garcia had dragged Reid out the door, insisting he couldn’t spend the holiday with nothing but his books for company. Rossi had a feast he was looking forward to slaving over, and you could still hear Emily groan at having to see her mother. JJ, however, was looking forward to the domestic Thanksgiving she was hosting. Now, it was just you and Hotch left, lingering in the familiar silence of the BAU.

“You’re not headed out yet?” Aaron’s voice broke the silence, low and thoughtful, drawing your attention away from your bag. He stood near your desk, hands in his pockets, his tie slightly loosened from the day.

“Just tying up some loose ends,” you replied, zipping your bag shut and brushing a stray hair from your face. “You?”

He hesitated, his gaze shifting from your bag to you and then back again. His expression was softer than usual, but his shoulders still carried that ever-present weight. “Actually, I wanted to ask what your plans are for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, nothing special.” You shrugged, keeping your tone light and breezy. “My family’s out of state, so I’ll probably just stay in. Maybe I’ll cook something small and watch some cheesy holiday movies. You know, the usual.”

Aaron frowned slightly, the crease between his brows deepening, and you immediately regretted how casually you’d phrased it. His concern was unmistakable, and it made your stomach flip.

“You’re spending it alone?” he asked, his voice a touch lower, softer.

“Well, yeah,” you said lightly, trying to shrug it off. “I didn’t think traveling back for just a few days made sense. Plus, it’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

He didn’t respond right away, and his silence made you look up at him. There was something unreadable in his expression, a quiet thoughtfulness that always made you feel like he saw more than you ever intended to show. His lips pressed together briefly, and then his shoulders relaxed just a fraction. When he finally spoke, there was a quiet determination in his tone.

“Then join me and Jack.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Join us,” he repeated, stepping closer, his voice gentler this time. “It’ll just be the two of us. Jessica is with Haley’s family, and Sean… well, who knows where he is. There’s plenty of room at the table.”

“Oh, Aaron, I don’t want to intrude—”

“You wouldn’t be,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. He stepped closer still, and now his eyes held yours with an intensity that left no room for doubt. “Jack would love to have you there. And so would I.”

Your throat tightened at his sincerity, and for a moment, you could only stare at him. This was Aaron Hotchner—stoic, composed, sometimes impossibly guarded. But now, he was standing in front of you, asking you to spend Thanksgiving with him and his son. It was more than an invitation—it felt like a gesture, an opening to something you hadn’t dared to hope for.

The two of you hadn’t discussed Thanksgiving before this. Your relationship was still new, so new that you’d intentionally avoided bringing up the holiday, not wanting to impose or create any kind of awkward expectation. But here he was, offering exactly what you hadn’t dared to ask for.

“You’re sure?” you asked, your voice quieter now, hesitant.

“I’m very sure,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “You shouldn’t spend the holiday alone. And honestly…” He paused, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “It wouldn’t feel right without you.”

Aaron could see the uncertainty flickering in your expression, but he also saw the moment it gave way to something warmer, something that made his chest tighten. He hadn’t planned to ask—not until he saw you standing there, zipping up your bag with a casual mention of spending the day alone. The thought of you sitting by yourself, piecing together a small meal, felt wrong in a way he couldn’t ignore.

You nodded, the weight of his sincerity breaking through your hesitation. “Okay. I’ll come.”

The relief that washed over his face was subtle but unmistakable, and his small smile made your chest feel impossibly light. “Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to stop the smile spreading across your lips. “Sounds perfect.”

As the two of you walked to the elevator, silence filled the space, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You felt his presence next to you, steady and sure, and your mind raced with the implications of spending Thanksgiving with him and Jack. It was new territory, uncharted and a little daunting, but the thought of sitting at his table—laughing, sharing stories, carving turkey—filled you with a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

Aaron glanced at you as you both stepped into the elevator, catching the faint trace of a smile on your lips. For him, the idea of having you there wasn’t just about avoiding loneliness; it was about inviting you into something that mattered to him. Jack needed to see that warmth, that joy again. And, quietly, so did he.

The morning of Thanksgiving arrived, and your kitchen looked like a crime scene—a deliciously fragrant, pumpkin-filled crime scene. Flour dusted the counter, a rolling pin was haphazardly balanced against a bowl, and the golden-brown crust of your homemade pumpkin pie was cooling on a rack, mocking you with its imperfect edges.

“This has to be perfect,” you muttered, frowning as you adjusted the spices in the filling for the third time. Despite your best efforts, doubt lingered like a stubborn stain. You didn’t want to bring just any dessert to Aaron and Jack’s Thanksgiving table; it had to be flawless.

But the pie wasn’t your only problem.

Your bedroom was a disaster zone. A few blouses were draped over the chair, rejected dresses lay in a heap on the bed, and a pair of black heels you’d pulled from the back of your closet sat mockingly on the floor. Every outfit you tried on felt wrong—too formal, too casual, or just not you.

After tossing yet another top onto the growing pile, you grabbed your phone and hit Aaron’s contact. The second you heard his warm, familiar voice on the other end, you started rambling.

“Hey, okay, so, uh, what’s the dress code for today? Like, should I wear a dress? Or maybe a nice top and jeans? Or should I do something fancier? I don’t want to overdo it, but I also don’t want to look like I didn’t try—oh God, what if I look like I’m trying too hard? Are we doing photos? Do I need to plan for that? Aaron—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, a soft laugh threading through his voice. “Take a breath.”

You paused, clutching the phone tightly as you exhaled. “Sorry. I’m just… overthinking.”

“I can tell,” he said, still chuckling. “But you don’t have to. Trust me.”

“How can I not overthink? It’s our first holiday together, and I don’t want to mess it up,” you admitted in a rush.

“You won’t,” he assured you, his tone gentle. “Honestly, you’re adorable when you get frazzled like this.”

Your cheeks heated at his words, and before you could protest, he added, “Jack’s still in his pajamas. And as for me… well, I’m not exactly pulling out a suit for dinner at home. Something comfortable is perfectly fine.”

“Wait—Jack’s still in his pajamas?” you asked, blinking in disbelief, looking at the clock on your nightstand.

“Yes,” Aaron said, clearly amused. “And he’ll probably stay in them until I convince him to change for dinner. So, whatever you’re comfortable in will be perfect. You don’t need to try for us.”

His words sank in, melting some of the tension in your chest. “Okay,” you said quietly, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “Thank you. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Of course,” he said softly. “Now, how’s the pie coming along?”

You glanced toward the kitchen, where the scent of nutmeg and cinnamon lingered in the air. “It’s… well, it’s not going to win any awards for presentation, but I think it’ll taste good.”

“That’s all that matters,” Aaron said. “We’re looking forward to it—and to seeing you.”

Your stomach fluttered at the warmth in his voice. “Me too,” you murmured, suddenly feeling a lot calmer.

“Good. I’ll be there soon to pick you up. Take your time finishing up.”

“Okay. Thanks, Aaron.”

After you hung up, you felt the lingering anxiety dissolve. You ditched the fancy outfit idea and settled on your favorite pair of jeans and a cozy sweater. Then, you went back to the pie, focusing on getting the filling just right while you waited for him to arrive.

When the familiar black SUV pulled into your driveway, you took a deep breath, balancing the still-warm pumpkin pie in one hand and a bag filled with carefully packed containers in the other. You barely had time to lock the door behind you before Jack jumped out of the car and bounded up to meet you, a wide grin on his face.

“Hi!” he chirped, his excitement palpable. He glanced at the pie in your hands. “Is that dessert?”

“It sure is,” you said, crouching slightly to meet his gaze. “And there’s more where that came from. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Oh, I’m always hungry,” Jack said with a dramatic sigh, making you laugh.

Aaron approached a moment later, his brows lifting in surprise as he took in the scene. You were balancing a picture-perfect pumpkin pie in one hand and a bag in the other, your face flushed with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Pumpkin pie and—what’s in the bag?” he asked, his tone light with curiosity.

You straightened, holding the bag up with a sheepish smile. “Homemade stuffing. And a couple of bottles of wine.”

Aaron blinked, his lips curving into an amused smile. He had expected you to bring the pumpkin pie you raved about, knowing how thoughtful you were, but this was above and beyond. “You didn’t have to go all out.”

“It’s Thanksgiving,” you replied, shrugging. “It felt weird to show up empty-handed.”

“And the wine?” he asked, his tone teasing as his gaze flicked to the bottles tucked in the side pocket of the bag.

“One red, one white,” you said, grinning. “You like red, I like white, and I’m not driving, so… why not?”

Aaron chuckled softly, shaking his head. You’d thought of everything. “Fair enough. Why not?”

Jack reached for the bag, eager to help, but Aaron gently intercepted it. “Let me carry that,” he said, taking the bag and pie from you. “You take it easy. We’ve got this.”

As he walked back to the car, his thoughts lingered on you. He’d always admired your attention to detail, but this? This was another level. It wasn’t just the food or the wine—it was the thoughtfulness behind it. You’d taken the time to think about what would make the day special, not just for him but for Jack, too. It tugged at something deep in him, quiet gratitude that he wasn’t facing this day alone anymore.

The drive back to Aaron and Jack’s apartment was quiet and peaceful, the kind of stillness that only came with holidays. The roads were nearly empty; the world seemingly paused for the day.

Jack filled the silence, animatedly telling you about how his dad had let him help with the turkey that morning.

“Well, I didn’t really touch the turkey,” Jack admitted, grinning. “But I got to pick the seasoning!”

From the driver’s seat, Aaron couldn’t help but smile. Jack was practically beaming, his excitement contagious. Aaron found himself glancing at you in the rearview mirror, the way your eyes lit up as you listened to Jack’s story.

“You’ve got a good sous chef there, Aaron,” you teased, glancing at him. He gave you one of those small, subtle smiles that you were quickly learning to adore.

The warmth of your voice settled something in him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been dreading this day, how empty it had felt knowing Jessica was away and Sean was off doing who-knew-what. But now, with you in the car and Jack’s laughter filling the space, it felt… full. It felt right.

“Well,” Aaron said, his lips twitching into a faint smile, “he might be better at seasoning than I am.”

Jack let out a laugh, and you joined in, the sound weaving through the quiet hum of the car. Aaron’s chest tightened for a moment—not in discomfort, but in recognition. This was something he hadn’t allowed himself to hope for in a long time: the beginnings of a new kind of family, one that made the holidays feel like home again.

When you arrived at the apartment, Aaron carried your things while you shrugged off your coat. He set the bag down carefully and returned to you, his hands outstretched to take your coat. His gaze lingered a little longer, studying your face before trailing down to your outfit. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice low and warm. The sincerity behind it made your heart skip.

You glanced down at your outfit—a simple pair of jeans and a soft sweater—and flushed. “This? It’s nothing fancy.”

“I know,” he replied, his smile growing slightly. “That’s why I like it. You could be wearing sweats, and you’d still look great.”

Your chest fluttered at his words, and you smiled shyly. “Thanks, Aaron.”

He hung your coat with an easy familiarity, glancing back at you as if he wanted to say more but chose to keep it to himself. For a moment, the quiet in the room felt heavy with something unspoken, but then Jack broke the silence, bounding toward you with the same enthusiasm he’d shown when he first greeted you.

“Come on! We’re setting the table,” Jack said, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the dining area.

“Lead the way,” you said with a laugh, letting him guide you.

Aaron stood by the doorway to the kitchen for a moment, watching the two of you go. Jack was chatting animatedly about napkin folding techniques he’d learned from his Aunt Jess, and you were smiling, nodding along with genuine interest. Aaron turned back to the kitchen, his chest tightening—not from stress, but from something softer, more hopeful.

The next half hour passed in a warm flurry of activity. While Aaron focused on the turkey, you and Jack worked together to set the table. Jack insisted on folding the napkins into what he called “turkey shapes,” even though they looked more like triangles, and you encouraged his efforts as if he were crafting masterpieces.

“You’re a natural,” you told him as he carefully adjusted a plate.

He grinned up at you, his pride clear. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a playful wink, and Jack’s grin widened even more.

From the kitchen, Aaron glanced over at the two of you. His hands stilled on the turkey baster as he watched Jack eagerly showing you his handiwork, your laughter mixing with Jack’s excited chatter. The sight made something settle in him, a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time spreading through his chest.

He shifted his focus back to the turkey, his mind wandering to how easily you’d fit into their dynamic. It wasn’t forced, wasn’t awkward. Instead, it was natural, like you’d been part of their little family all along. He shook his head slightly, the faintest smile lingering on his lips as he resumed preparing dinner.

The apartment filled with the warm, savory aroma of roasting turkey, the clinking of plates as Jack adjusted the table settings, and the soft hum of conversation. Occasionally, you glanced toward the kitchen, where Aaron worked with quiet efficiency, a faint smile playing at the edges of his expression whenever he caught your eye.

Jack’s laughter echoed brightly, and Aaron chuckled softly in response, the sound grounding the space in warmth and comfort. It had been a long time since Thanksgiving had felt like more than just another day, but with you here, it felt different. It felt like something new, something he wanted to hold onto.

The table was set, the food was ready, and the apartment buzzed with a warmth that felt almost tangible. Jack had insisted on lighting the small candle centerpiece he’d picked out, proudly declaring it “fancy.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he adjusted the napkins for the third time, clearly taking his job very seriously.

Aaron carried the turkey to the table, the golden skin glistening perfectly, and Jack’s eyes widened in awe. “Whoa, Dad, it looks awesome!”

“Thanks, buddy,” Aaron said, his lips quirking into a small smile. His gaze flickered toward you for a moment, something softer lingering there before he gestured for everyone to take their seats.

As the three of you settled in, Jack’s excitement bubbled over. “Can we eat now? Please?”

Aaron shook his head, chuckling. “Not quite yet, Jack.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze warm as he looked between you and his son. “Before we start, I think it’s only right that we share what we’re grateful for.”

Jack groaned, though his grin betrayed him. “Dad…”

“Come on,” Aaron said with a faint smirk. “It’s tradition.”

Jack sighed dramatically, but you could tell he didn’t mind as much as he pretended. Aaron turned to you, a slight tilt of his head. “Would you like to go first?”

You blinked, caught off guard, but quickly smiled. “Sure.” You looked at Jack, then at Aaron, and for a moment, your words caught in your throat. “I guess… I’m grateful for this,” you said softly. “For being here, for both of you. This is the kind of thing I’ve always dreamed of—a warm meal, good company, and moments that feel like home.”

Aaron’s expression softened, his gaze steady as he nodded. Jack beamed at you, clearly pleased by your answer.

“My turn!” Jack piped up. “I’m grateful for… um… pie!” He grinned mischievously before quickly adding, “And Dad. And you,” he said, looking at you shyly. “And for not having to eat Brussels sprouts this year.”

That earned a laugh from both you and Aaron, and Jack grinned, proud of himself. Aaron’s smile lingered as he turned his attention to Jack.

“Well, I’m grateful for you, Jack,” he said, his tone soft but steady. “And for this… for today. It’s been a while since Thanksgiving felt like Thanksgiving.”

His gaze shifted to you, and there was something unspoken in his eyes, a depth that made your breath catch. “I’m grateful for you,” he said simply. “For being here.”

The words were gentle but carried a weight that settled over the table like a warm blanket. Jack didn’t notice the brief pause that followed, busy trying to decide what part of the turkey to claim first, but you felt it—the quiet sincerity of what Aaron had said.

As the meal began, the conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the clinking of plates and utensils. The food was incredible, each dish perfectly cooked and seasoned. You found yourself marveling at Aaron’s skill in the kitchen.

“This is amazing,” you said between bites of turkey. “I can’t believe you pulled all of this together.”

“Dad’s a really good cook,” Jack said proudly. “He always lets me help.”

Aaron glanced at you, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks at the praise. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he said quietly, his tone tinged with modesty.

The meal stretched on, each bite more delicious than the last, but it wasn’t just the food—it was the atmosphere. The apartment felt alive in a way it hadn’t in years. For Aaron, this was the first Thanksgiving he hadn’t spent alone with Jack since Haley passed. The ones before that—when he and Haley were divorced—had been different, fractured in a way he tried not to dwell on.

But tonight? Tonight was different. It wasn’t just the food or the laughter; it was the way you fit so effortlessly into this moment. It was the way Jack’s eyes lit up when you praised his napkin folding, the way your laugh softened the edges of his own grief, the way you leaned into this space like it was where you belonged.

Aaron leaned back slightly, watching you and Jack talk animatedly about the pie, his heart aching in a way that wasn’t painful but full. It had been years—years—since he’d felt this kind of warmth during a holiday. Not since Jack was a baby, not since he and Haley had been on the same page. This wasn’t just a good Thanksgiving. This was a piece of something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing.

For you, this moment was everything you’d dreamed of when you thought about falling in love someday. Not the grand gestures or big declarations, but this—the little moments. The laughter shared over a meal, the warmth of a family gathering, the simple joy of being wanted somewhere.

As the evening wore on, Jack began to nod off at the table, and Aaron scooped him up, promising him a slice of pie tomorrow. You helped clear the dishes, and the quiet rhythm of the task ground you both in the moment. Aaron glanced at you as you set the last plate in the sink, his expression soft.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?” you asked, turning to meet his gaze.

“For being here,” he said simply, the weight of his gratitude clear in his voice.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest as you replied, “Thank you for having me.” And for the first time in a long time, you both felt like Thanksgiving was exactly what it was meant to be.

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[erinwantstowrite]

can you tell us anything about friendsgiving since it’s thanksgiving?

i can give you some out of context comic 🥰 this takes place during Friendsgiving (which i fear my turn into a short arc...) anyways i can't tell you what's being discussed here and it'll be funny watching y'all try to figure it out

[fandomnerd9602]

Natasha: ready?

Y/N: not really. All my brother knows is that I’m bringing my girlfriend for Thanksgiving

Natasha: it’ll be fine. Whatever happens we’ll face it together

Y/N takes Natasha’s hand…

Tony Stark walks out of his house, smiling…

Tony: (Y/N)! Happy Thanksgiving!…why are you and Romanoff holding hands?

Gif belongs to @natashagifs

[hellfire--cult]

It was your first ever thanksgiving with Eddie, and you sadly had to work the day before and part time on the same day of the festivity. You were completely destroyed you couldn't cook anything at all for Eddie and Wayne, but--

Eddie outdid himself.

He made the turkey the day before, the smell of it filling up your nostrils when you entered your small apartment. The pumpkin pie was ready to be put in the oven the next day where you worked in the morning.

When you came back from work in the afternoon, there were mashed potatoes with gravy on the table as well, a green bean casserole, and the turkey, and Wayne brought in homemade bread and a pumpkin pie for the fridge.

You could almost cry from how amazing Eddie was to you, knowing you would be stressed from work, and going out of his way to get recipes and follow the steps like a soldier. When you chewed on the turkey, your eyes filled with tears from delight, because it was delicious, and emotion, turning to talk to him,

"We could of ordered stuff, you didn't have to do it all alone." And he was confused at your comment but smiled, kissing your shoulder.

"You don't deserve a pizza for Thanksgiving. You deserve this and if I wasn't running out of time, I would of cooked more things for you." Wayne was only rolling his eyes at the sweet filled interaction and you were just looking at your boyfriend with adoration in your eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I love you and like I said, you deserve the best and I will be the one to bring that for you. Now shut up and eat."

Oh, but another feeling surged through you. This man wanted to take care of you, love on you, dote on you, protect you, pamper you, and just make you the happiest person in the world. You looked down at the stuffed turkey on your plate--

You were impatient now. His laughter and his voice when he talked, his mannerisms of giving a squeeze to your hand or your thigh, and you didn't want to be mean but-- You needed Wayne to go. Your love for Eddie was exploding in other ways, keeping it romantic, but you were in need of showing it to him.

So when Wayne finally left, Eddie sighed and started picking the left overs, but you immediately slammed your hands on the table, making him squeal from the scare.

"Sweetheart, what the actual fu--"

"Take off your pants."

The comment echoed throughout the small living room, with the plate of mashed potatoes in his hands while he stared wildly your way. If he squinted enough, he could see your nostrils flaring and probably steam coming out of them.

"What did you say--"

"You fucking heard me. I need to show you how grateful I am or I will lose my goddamn mind." Your voice was coming through your teeth while Eddie was putting down the plate on the table again and he raised his hands at you as if taming a wild animal.

"Baby, you don't need to do anything, it was a pleasure--"

"I swear to god Eddie, I want to suck your dick until you are dehydrated and I want you to stuff me like you did with that fucking turkey. So... Get. Those. Pants. Off."

Who knew you could get rid of pants in 1.2 seconds? Not Eddie.

[omenics]

YAY I'm glad you want to write vamps!! I always welcome more Castlevania Dracula x reader content! feel free to choose the general scenarios, but if you're comfortable writing it I'd love to hear about how he handles being tempted by your blood 👀

𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐀.

› ..your taste is like ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. gn reader. — i got carried away with this guys vampires draw out the worst in me LMAO. if this is too intimate and eyebrow raising im sorry i love vampires and their stupid metaphorical actions for romance.

Dracula is ancient. He is old. He has walked the earth for centuries, and has learned to ease his bloodlust. Yes, he is very well-acquainted with the temptations that comes with vampirism, and he does his best to keep his fangs clean, for he is mot the man he once was.

It is enticing. The smell that emits from your pretty pulse points, the way your heartbeat echoes and reverberates off of the castle walls drive his bloodlust farther. But he holds back. He will not succumb to his primal instincts. Not yet, at least.

But the day will come. He knows it will, for when your neck flaunts itself through the collar of your clothes he feels his façade slip and his hunger grow.

So the day comes, he holds a hand gingerly and sinks his teeth into your wrist. No, it is not the neck, but he feels like this is more appropriate than biting you in such an intimate place. He would not do anything you did not wish and would take it slowly, which is why his fangs would dip into the supple skin of your wrist; to ease you into the puncturing pain that will become familiar to you.

To Vlad, the act is intimate. He savours it, taking his time to ensure comfort and relish in the taste, smell, and essence. So when the time comes and his fangs graze your neck, he feels your pulse quicken under his lips, and his hand would make its way to the side of your head and softly entangle it in your hair, craning your head to the side for better access. Agonizingly slow his fangs would pierce into your flesh, drinking like a starved dog.

If he could he would stay there for eternity, to bleed you dry because your blood tastes like ambrosia, the food of the gods. He will not succumb to such basic and primal instincts no matter how much he wants to. He will not become more of a monster than he already is. Instead he would drink in the gasps that leave you, the pained hitch in your breath when he punctures your neck. He would not try to soothe you, too drunk on the taste he neglected for so long.

But the way it tastes on his tongue would drive him mad. It would simultaneously ease his bloodlust and drive it, making him want more. Enticing you were, so utterly cruel, but he would not lose himself in your scent. He would not allow it. You would not be a personal blood-bank for him, you are so much more than that.

You are his Achilles heel with your sweet taste. You would make him crumble to his knees just for a taste. He is weak for you, your scent and your smell. He becomes nothing more than a starved man when his fangs puncture your neck and tongue lap up the sweet, sweet nectar that oozes out and down your sweet skin.

[m1d-45]

hourglass

summary: he's running very late for a very important date !

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: none :3

-> gn reader (you/yours) ++ takes place pre-fontaine !

taglist: @samarill || @sarienic || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

lyney’s schedule was not one with wide margins. every minute was accounted for, dedicated to an explicit purpose. his shows (preparing, checking the stage, checking props, checking the stage again—sorry, lynette) took a large portion of his time, but there was also his family (checking on freminet, checking on lynette, checking on the rest of the House, checking on freminet again—are you sure you’re alright?) and missions from father (steal this, leave that, don’t be heard, don’t be seen).

honestly, he barely had time to breathe most days. and that was fine! he rarely knew what to do without some problem to fix or task to complete. it was an unfamiliar feeling, and so he often took on extra work whenever he could. as such, he’d developed a bit of a knack for all the odd jobs you could think of: flower arrangements, finding lost things, getting stains out of clothes, cooking, any and everything.

he’d never had a problem with this. his life was crowded, but straightforward. he knew the answer to every problem, and if he didn’t, he knew who did.

this was, of course, before you entered the picture. now, the tasks he sought out felt too heavy to carry. yes, he wanted to help his family, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was only so many times he could show up late before you’d stop trying to invite him places, and that was the last thing he wanted.

you weren’t fatui, but you didn’t mind that he was and father had given him clearance so long as he was “responsible with his loyalties,” which was entirely achievable! what showman couldn’t juggle?

…him, apparently. because between helping lynette find her tea (someone had moved it) and keeping the local wildlife safe from foltz, he’d lost track of time. he still wasn’t used to a block of free time in his schedule, automatically trying to fill it before he could remember that there was a reason for it. and now, he was rushing through the streets of fontaine, fixing his cape as he all but ran.

you were sat outside the cafe in the same chair as usual, and he slows to a regular pace as he approaches to gather what remained of his appearance. you were reading a book, and he felt both proud that you hadn’t forced yourself to sit there plainly and also ashamed of the fact that it was his fault. regardless, he cleared his throat and called your name, sitting across from you and meeting your smile with his own.

your book was a mystery novel, one he easily enough got you talking about with a bit of prompting. judging by the place your bookmark held, you were a good ways through it, likely just before the reveal. just from your summary, he could easily guess the culprit, but what was the point in ruining your fun?

��so, who do you think it is?”

there were few things lyney liked more than seeing the people he cared for happy and in their element. you got to share your theories and he could listen to your voice out of all the bustle in the city, ordering ile flottante to have an excuse to keep quiet. your own tea was growing cold, but he could always get you another. would picking up the tab make up for his tardiness? it probably shouldn’t.

around halfway through your defense of the butler—cleared by his alibi, but still deemed suspicious by the bartender—you stopped, looking somewhere over his shoulder. he didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary..

your hand rose to tap at your face, just at the corner of your lip. “you’ve got icing on you, by the way.”

ah. well, wasn’t that the perfect topping to his evening?

he grabbed a napkin and quickly wiped across the offending cheek, but you shook your head. “no, the other one.”

at least you were smiling? that made his mistake worth it. he was usually a tidy eater—but he also usually didn’t order flottante, since it was usually too sweet for his liking. today, he’d decided to give it a try, and look where that had gotten him…

he told you as such, and you laughed. he liked hearing you laugh. laughter meant happiness, and happiness meant a job well done. maybe he should get it more often?

“are you doing this intentionally?”

he folded the napkin twice, eyes on you. “doing what intentionally?”

“you missed it twice.” oh, archons- “here, just sit still.”

he didn’t have much time to protest before you were taking your napkin in hand, carefully swiping it an inch or so to the side from where he’d guessed. like him, you folded the mess inside, but unlike him you actually had something on yours, a pale gold in the afternoon light. the whole interaction had lasted maybe a second or two, but it stuck in his head for far longer.

you put a lot of trust into him, more than he knew what to do with. people were not typically fond of the fatui, and even less fond of the magician who could snatch their wallets before they could blink (nevermind that he’d had to learn that skill to survive). it was strange that he could make the same mistake over and over and your faith that he would show never wavered.

not that he ever wanted to give you a reason to. he always kept his promises to those he loved.

[voxslays]

THANKSGIVING WITH HAZBIN °˖➴

Hazbin Crew: (Husk, Niffty, Alastor, Angel Dust, Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie.)

First of all Alastor is in the kitchen the entire time. Nobody is allowed in there except for Niffty, and even she is only in there to help him clean up the mess. Otherwise, he is alone in the kitchen, baking all the thanksgiving classics, along with a few of his personal favorites. The classic turkey & stuffing, rolls and gravy, baked and mashed potatoes, ham, apple pie, jambalaya, etc. He makes a huge feast, leaving leftovers for weeks.

Charlie and Angel are the festive sweaters gang. Vaggie and Lucifer are also wearing sweaters, although they are both a lot less enthusiastic…they may have been forced…(I’m looking at you Charlie.) Husk is your average father, grandfather, uncle figure. He is either groaning at the football players on the television in the living room—much to Alastor’s dismay—or getting extremely drunk.

When you finally sit down to eat, (and drink for husk), there is a lot of…tension…between Alastor and Lucifer. Fortunately, they quickly forget about their past quarrels as they eat the delicious food that Alastor has prepared—WHICH LUCIFER TOTALLY COULD’VE DONE BETTER! (According to Luci.)

The Vees: (Valentino, Velvette, Vox.)

Let’s be honest, nobody but Vox can cook…and Vox is not using his one day off to cook the entire time. So it’s just your private chefs cooking the night away. They prepare all the classic thanksgiving dishes, and serve you the finest champagne.

The four of you watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade, and then some football…which Vox is acting like your average uncle who lives for football. He is screaming at the TV. Velvette is scrolling on her phone, looking for Christmas inspiration for her holiday collection. Val is AGRESSIVELY texting his workers, who unsurprisingly do not have the day off. You might wanna avoid him for a while…

Val and Velvette are fighting over legroom, because of course they are. Those two are always fighting about something. You and Vox have to split them up. As the night grows old, the four of you fall asleep together on the couch watching a stupid Hallmark movie. (I love hallmark.)

Heavenly Crew: (Adam, Lute, Sera, St. Peter, Emily.)

This is definitely the most perfect and innocent Thanksgiving…until Adam and Lute show up. Let’s just say tensions are high after what happened at the heavenly court session…Adam is constantly making lewd jokes, but quickly stops when Sera gives him a warning look.

Unlike the first two examples, the cooking is a shared job. Sera and Emily do the turkey & stuffing, Lute and Peter make the mashed potatoes and gravy, and you and Adam set the table (because nobody trusts Adam to not burn the water.) Overall, its a very wholesome thanksgiving.

[deathdetermineslife]

imagine you and your f/o enjoying the first snow of the season! maybe you go on a walk together, wearing your f/os winter coat as you do, your f/o teasing you because you aren't wearing your own.

or, maybe you just admire it from a distance, in the comfort of your warm home together. either way, it's a lovely thing to experience together.

[madhatterbri]

New Traditions | E.M.

Summary: Elijah comes up with a new holiday tradition. 18+.

"You don't have to do all this extra work for us. Let me help you relax," he whispered in your ear and nipped it playfully. His hands grabbed your waist and sat you on his lap. You planted your feet on the ground to stand up but his hands held you firm.

"Elijah," you whined yet stopped when he wrapped an arm around you. Kisses were planted on your neck. You wiggled feeling him hard against you.

"Let me take care of you, darling. I'll do all the work," he smiled and unbuttoned your pants. The zipper came undone allowing his hand to slide in your panties. You whimpered feeling his finger touch your core. Your back rested against him while your head laid on his shoulder. "Being such a good hostess. Are you going let me take care of you?"

Your eyes closed as you nodded. He smirked at your agreement. Usually he would have to convince you to play with him while you were in business mode. He played with your clit enjoying your whimpers and moans.

"I have to get back to planning Thanksgiving," you whispered hoarsely. Of course you didn't want to but Thanksgiving wouldn't plan itself. Once you were good and wet he slipped a finger inside of you. You hated how you reacted to him.

"Shhh, darling, remember I'm going to take care of you," Elijah reminded you. Your legs dangled around his. The risk of being caught by one of his siblings made this more enjoyable. "This is what is going to happen. I'm going to bend you over this table and have my way with your pretty little body. Do I make myself clear?"

He added another finger inside of you. Your body clenched around his fingers never wanting them to leave. The way he spoke to you always made you feel hotter.

"Use me," you whimpered. You buried your head against his neck. Your hand rubbed his cheek. Your hips had a mind of their own. They matched each thrust of his fingers. He shuddered yet focused on the task at hand.

"Oh trust me, I will, but for now let's see how many pretty sounds you can make with just my fingers," he teased. The thrust of his fingers picked up in pace as did your hips. Each thrust met with an 'ah' as you felt his fingers curl inside of you.

You brought your head back. Your breath quickened as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The knot in your stomach tightened before releasing. His fingers covered in your juice. You gasped as you looked at the mess on his pants.

"Don't worry about that. Let's get you bent over this table. I can't wait much longer," he confessed. He helped you to your feet and lowered your pants and panties. He slapped your ass playfully as he watched you bend over. A sight before him that he could never get tired of. His pants impossibly tight around him.

"Beautiful," he whispered and stood up. Your heart swelled with pride at the compliment. The sound of a belt being unbuckled and a zipper being pulled down sounded in the room. He lowered his boxers and pants to his ankles.

You cried out his name as he entered you. The way the table moved with each thrust back and forth. Your body clenched on to him once more. Your cheek rested on the table. He snaked his fingers in your hair and pulled slightly.

"A year ago you were my shy little girl. Now look at you. The servants can hear your slutty little mouth moan," he teased. His hand reached around to your oversensitive clit. He thumbed it making you cry out louder.

"T-too much," you whined feeling your knees shake. He mocked you not relenting on his treatment of your body. Elijah knew what you could and couldn't take. Sure enough within seconds you were moaning for him to never stop.

He could feel your orgasm coming the moment your body gripped him tighter. The rush of fluids from your second orgasm nearly pushed him out of you. He gripped your hips and thrusted rougher. The sound of sweaty skin slapping each other echoed in the dining room.

"Look at you. Allowing me to stuff you where our family and friends are going to eat. What would they think?" He asked. His breath ragged as his hands gripped your waist harder. One final messy thrust and he stopped inside of you. He was never one to waste a single drop not inside of you.

He waited to catch his breath before slipping out of you. The absolute mess he left behind was enough to make him want more. You slowly stood up from the table. With his assistance, your panties and pants back to where they were moments ago. He fixed his own clothing.

"Let's plan the same for Christmas Eve," he whispered making you melt.

[jollyhunter]

Dean Winchester at your family Thanksgiving ⚝ Pt.1

Dean being reluctant to go with you to your big family’s Thanksgiving weekend because he “doesn’t do parents”

Dean realizing how much you’re anxious about the family gathering and picking you up with Baby as a surprise

Dean wearing a nice suit from one of his fake personas because he wants to make a good impression

Dean interlacing his fingers with yours whenever he notices you’re nervous (and because he’s secretly nervous himself)

Dean grinning with a stuffed mouth at your granny who keeps filling up his plate

Dean leaning over to you when you’re at the family dinner, whispering in a gravelly voice what he’ll do to you later

Dean brushing your thighs and arse whenever he can

Dean looking forward to some good fucking pie (and you saving him an extra big slice)

Dean purposely blocking anyone’s view on you when he notices your social battery’s drained

Dean giving your stuck-up aunt a ‘perfect boyfriend’ show while he slowly drives her up the wall

Dean talking in an extra thick southern/midwestern accent just to piss off your judgmental uncle

Dean and you having sex in one of the guest-rooms while you’re begging him to keep it down or you’ll wake the entire house (which is totally his goal and he purposely moans louder than ever)

Dean and you raiding the kitchen in the middle of the night while having a giggling fit and trying to not get caught

Dean having the entire room in a fit by the end of the weekend - and you fucking relish every bit of it

A/N: Any of you sweethearts interested in a next part?? And yes this is totally my coping mechanism for the big family dinner to come gahhhh - Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

EDIT: HERE'S PART 2 MY LOVELY BUNS

[spencestiel-michelle]

*JJ and Penelope serve pasta at BAU Thanksgiving dinner*

Derek: why are they so big? 

Penelope: if you let them sit in the water longer, they grow. 

Rossi: they? when did we start personifying food? 

Hotch: you’d be lucky if they don’t start naming each individual macaroni. 

Emily: i’ll call this one *stabs one rigatoni w/ fork* Ronaldo. 

Reid: this one here *scoots one rigatoni w/ fork* this is Matilda. 

Hotch: 

Rossi, already eating: you asked for it. 

[mamaestapa]

yes pls omg one with joe 🥺

Baked With Love…|| Joe Burrow x reader

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•summary: You and Joe spend “Thanksgiving Eve” baking together

•warnings: fluff, Joe gets a little frisky, allusions to sex…

“Joey,” you said your boyfriend’s name in a sing songy tone, “It’s pumpkin pie time.”

Joe chuckled and walked into the kitchen, setting his phone down on the countertop of the island and pulling out a chair to sit on.

“Finally,” he sighed out, “you don’t know how long I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Today, you and Joe (well, mostly you) have been working hard in the kitchen, preparing desserts to take to your “friendsgiving” tomorrow at the Wilson’s. You and Joe agreed to make the desserts since neither one of you were too skilled when it came to preparing the actual dinner.

Earlier you made an apple pie and a batch of snickerdoodle cookies, deciding to save the pumpkin pie for last. You had Joe help you get out all of the ingredients that were needed to make his favorite dessert. Once all of the ingredients were spread out on the counter, you pulled out your grandfathers pumpkin pie recipe from the kitchen drawer where you kept the handwritten recipes to some of yours and Joe’s favorite foods. You set the recipe down on the counter, eyes scanning over the instructions.

You walked over to Joe and wrapped your arms around his torso, letting your chin rest on his shoulder as you held onto him.

“I’ll let you decide what you want to do. Crust or filling.” You said, giving him options to choose from even though you knew which one he’d pick.

“Filling.

Yep. You knew it.

“Perfect,” you replied with a sweet smile. You removed your arms from Joe’s body, reaching out to grab his hand instead so you could pull him off the barstool and over to the mixer. You gave him the ingredients needed for the filling, along with the specific instructions on how to make it perfect.

After Joe was situated by the mixer, you began to make the crust. It wasn’t too difficult to make as you’ve made it a couple times before on your own, but it was still a process that included very careful and precise measurements—it’s probably a good thing you’re making the crust and Joe isn’t.

As the two of you were hard at work putting together the pumpkin pie in a comfortable silence, you thought about how you could use some music right now…

“We need some music going right now.” Joe suggested as he opened the can of pumpkin filling.

It’s almost like he read your mind..

“You should play some Kid Cudi,”

You sighed at Joe’s song selection suggestion. It’s not that you didn’t like Kid Cudi because you really did like him and his music. However…that’s all Joe has been playing while you baked. You needed a break from Man on the Moon.

“I agree, we do need music, but can it not be Kid Cudi though?” You asked as you rolled the dough over the floured counter. Joe gasped lightly, sounding slightly offended as he said, “But I thought you liked Kid Cudi?”

You chuckled softly as you turned to look at your boyfriend. “I do,” you said with a nod, “but it’s all we’ve listened to today babe. I need a change.”

“No Taylor Swift.” Joe said, pointing at you and giving you the look.

“How about Tame Impala? We both like them.”

“Deal.”

You smiled triumphantly and clicked shuffle on your Tame Impala playlist that was full of yours and Joe’s favorite songs. Borderline began playing, making you and Joe instantly break out into your own little dances while you prepared the pumpkin pie.

Once Joe was finished with the filling and satisfied with how well it was spiced, he brought the bowl over to you so you could put it into the pie pan lined with the crust dough. You thanked Joe for making the filling before scooping it out onto the crust. You evened the filling out before putting it into the oven to bake.

As you leaned down to put the pie in the oven, you felt a pair of hands cup your butt and squeeze gently before quickly pulling away. You yelped at the contact, slamming the oven shut and whipping around to look at Joe, who was a chuckling mess.

“Joe!” you yelped, “what the hell?” You laughed as you finished your sentence. Joe held his hands up, his laughter only growing when he watched your mouth gape open. His hands were covered in flour, meaning there were definitely two white hand prints on your butt right now.

You let out a laugh before prancing over to the counter covered in flour. You grabbed a handful of flour and held your hand up, “Come here Joey.”

Joe chuckled and slowly made his way over to you, “Lay it on me, sweets.”

You took the flour in your hand and rubbed it all over Joe’s black t-shirt, making sure to leave extra white patches over his pecs and abs. Joe reached over and grabbed more flour, throwing it onto the top of your head. You shrieked and grabbed more flour, doing the same thing to Joe. You were both laughing messes as you had a flour fight in the kitchen for a good two minutes. However, the fight stopped when Joe got a handful of flour, rubbed his hands together, and left two handprints on your boobs. You looked down at the white handprints on your sweater. Joe’s handprints looked huge on your chest…

You don’t know what came over you, but you flung yourself at Joe, kissing him harshly. He seems taken aback at first, but he smirked into the kiss as he realized his idea had worked. It’d been a little while since the two of you have been intimate…

When you both pulled away for Joe, Joe huskily ordered you to jump. You did as he said, jumping slightly as he helped you up and sat you on the counter. The two of you made out heavily for the next couple minutes before you remembered how messy the kitchen was. You pulled away from Joe, glancing at the mess on the floor and countertop across from you before looking back at your boyfriend.

“Someone should clean up the mess we made.”You said, cocking your head to the side and giving Joe a pointed look. He just smirked as his hands trailed up your sides, resting on your rib and cupping the side of your left breast.

“Just wait…” he trailed off as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “because that won’t the only mess we made that’ll have to be cleaned up.” He bit down softly on your earlobe, tugging it gently before pulling head away from you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you looked into Joe’s intense blue eyes gaze.

A smirk pulled at your lips as you wrapped your arms Joe’s neck, clawing at his back as you harshly crashed your lips against his.

Pumpkin pie wasn’t the only sweet thing Joe was going to be tasting tonight…

hi loves!!

i don’t know why i made this a little spicy? i wanted to do something fluffy but as i started writing, i was like mmmm no i should do this instead😌

anyways, i hope you’re enjoying these thanksgiving/holiday blurbs! i’ve gotten some fun requests to go along with the ideas i had too :) i’ll probably post one more tonight, and do the rest tomorrow…because there’s a lot lol

hope you all have a great day/night😚🤍