#thanksgiving paper plate

[golauralacinablog]

Festive Fall Table Ideas for Thanksgiving

Create a festive fall-inspired table with orange, brown, and yellow colors that capture the essence of autumn. Incorporate rustic elements such as wooden tableware and colorful leaves to enhance the seasonal theme. Add warm candlelight to create an inviting atmosphere, and consider using decorative gourds and pumpkins as centerpieces to draw the eye. Accentuate the table with cozy textiles like…

[navysealt4t]

im curious about something that’s always been normal in my house

[thedaveandkimmershow]

RECIPE FOR A GREAT THANKSGIVING!

THE PEOPLE Friends/family who laugh easily Friends/family with quick & curious minds Friends/family who can handle a certain amount of chaos/children Friends/family who can improvise Friends/family who are safe Friends/family with whom you can be honest Friends/family who care about each other THE MEAL Potluck (coordinated by phone & group chat) Buffet style Comfy chairs and cushion in the living room Paper plates, plastic cups Plates & cups get tossed at end of night

[silverfantasyart]

Pumpkin Paper Party Plates Custom Text

Cute paper plates that match the napkins, for all your Halloween or Thanksgiving party needs.

[sirfrogsworth]

I haven't posted in a while.

Well, a while for me.

I've been stuck in a physical slump for about 7-ish weeks and it is starting to get to me. It's like my body is stuck in low power mode and I just don't have much productive energy. I've been trying to work on restoring photos but my willpower has been very inconsistent.

These slumps have happened before. They will happen again. And I always emerge from them eventually. But when they are this long I get very depressed and convince myself I am stuck like this forever. And that I will never be able to accomplish anything again.

But the other complication is the holidays. I mentioned on my Facebook page that my parents always made the holidays special. They went all out and did big decorations and cooked fancy dinners and we had these plates that we only used twice a year and silverware that stayed hidden in a drawer until Christmas Eve. We'd drive around and look at lights and we'd always have presents under the tree even when my parents probably couldn't afford presents.

And my mom would wrap our presents in plain brown postal paper with green yarn and it was just so much more tasteful than the shiny, garish wrapping paper you get at the store.

I just always loved how classy that was. I loved how she took the time to put a little hand-drawn doodle on each gift. She took something simple and inexpensive and made it so much more personal and memorable than the more expensive thing.

And all of that is gone now.

And I don't have a new family to build new traditions with.

And I never will because I'm disabled and that isn't really an option.

And I can't even be a cool uncle because my brother's wife decided she hated me and my parents for no reason we could ever decipher. So I will never meet my niece.

And all of that just kind of converges in my brain during the holidays and it is very hard. And it is doubly hard because I can't get out of bed. And I can't concentrate.

So I am just bored and sad and frustrated.

Umm... Happy Thanksgiving?

[shotmrmiller]

With Thanksgiving literally tmr, I'm curious: Who do you think at a big fest would completely clean their plate and ask for seconds?

3rds and a plate to take home, less greens more meat, ty luv.

seconds and asks if he can come by again the next day

3rds then fucks off with some bourbon straight to a chair on the porch

3rds, denied 4ths then throws away a paper plate that's been bitten into. also asks to come back the next day.

[dadbodbuck]

could it shine down here with you?

Rating: G | WC: 1.7k | Pairing: BuckTommy

Loosely based on this post by @loulovingho!

Summary:

Tommy doesn't realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

Read it here on Ao3 or continue below!

Tommy is five, or maybe six, and he doesn’t like Thanksgiving. His dad is screaming at his mom because the turkey isn’t thawed. He’s calling her a lot of words that Tommy thinks are really mean. Tommy’s dad yells a lot, but it’s rarely this bad. Tommy’s mom usually waits for it to blow over, but this time, Tommy watches from the living room entry as her face crumbles and she shoulders past Tommy’s dad, breezes by Tommy, and flees into their bedroom.

Tommy wants to follow her, but his dad grabs his arm, too-tight, and tugs Tommy away towards where the half-thawed turkey is laying on the ground, cold and slimy. When they get there, Tommy’s dad hands him a garbage bag and a roll of paper towels and says “Your mom needs some time alone to think about what she’s done. Clean up this mess.”

It’s okay, because later his mom comes out of the bedroom and kneels down, her eyes red and puffy, and she tells him, “I’m so sorry you had to see that, honey. You did a good job cleaning the kitchen. It’s okay, we can still have dinner, even if I messed up the turkey,” and she makes Stovetop stuffing, and takes cranberry sauce out of a can, dishing them up on a plastic plate for Tommy, and a glass plate for her.

Tommy’s not sure where his dad went, but he’s glad it’s just him and his mom for a little while.

Tommy is twelve, and he hates Thanksgiving. He hates most holidays centered around football, actually. It’s a double-edged sword—his dad gets drunk, and his dad gets riled up, and he’s either too loud and happy, or too loud and mad. The Superbowl is Tommy’s least favorite time of the year. Especially when the Rams are playing.

The Rams aren’t playing this year, but that doesn’t mean Tommy’s off the hook. Tommy brings his dad beers when his dad calls for them, doesn’t say a word to his old man, carefully doesn’t flinch when his dad yells angrily at the screen.

For the most part, Tommy sits alone in his room and looks at the picture of his mom. It’s her high school graduation, she’s gleaming in her cap and gown. Tommy misses her.

Tommy knows that his family isn’t normal. That it’s fucked up. But he also knows how to deal with his dad, especially now that his mom isn’t around to instigate anymore. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he gets sent to foster care. He doesn’t want to know.

Tommy also knows, somewhere, that it’s partially his own fault. Maybe if he was a better kid—someone his dad could be proud of, this wouldn’t happen. He was always doing something to incur his father’s wrath. Plus, it’s not like his dad doesn’t love him, in his own way. Tommy loves his dad, too.

Tommy makes his own Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce from a can. His dad doesn’t eat it, but Tommy doesn’t care, because at least he survived Thanksgiving without any more bruises.

Tommy is eighteen, and twenty-three, and thirty-one. Thanksgiving is in a shitty barracks at the base, a tiny studio in downtown LA, and the 118 firehouse. It’s spent wolfing down an MRE, trying to figure out how to get his horrible stove to work, and eating Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce and praying that the alarm doesn’t go off. There are the other soldiers, and Tommy’s rescue cat Teddy, and Howie.

The MRE is as it always is. You get used to the weird textures and instant coffee and chemical heat smell of the food warmer. The funny thing about Iraq, the thing that will keep Tommy awake for years and years, is that it gets cold during the winter. Tommy knew before he shipped out that he didn’t know what much about the country, but now that he’s here, he’s stuck with sick realization after sick realization. The people here are scared, and the Army isn’t helping. Tommy looks at the other soldiers in a way he shouldn’t. Civilians are dying. War is messy in a way that allows people to excuse inexcusable violence. Tommy cannot speak the language, of either the Iraqi citizens or the people he was told would be his brothers. Iraq gets cold during the winter.

Teddy is an orange beauty, with long fluffy fur and a penchant for mischief. Tommy didn’t ask for Thanksgiving off, but it’s a holiday at the Academy, apparently. So, he’s here, listening to the click of the gas range as it tries to light. Teddy watches from the tiny countertop with uncharacteristic judgment in his eyes. When the flame finally catches, Tommy laughs victoriously, and gets to work making stuffing and cranberry sauce for the first time in years. It’s not gourmet by any means, just the Stovetop and the canned stuff, but it feels like his mom. It feels like he’s talking to her again. Tommy wonders if there’s a universe out there where his mom got help before it was too late. He eats his food in the camp chair that furnishes his pathetic living room, with Teddy invading his personal space and trying to sneak a bite for himself.

Tommy keeps the tradition of making himself Stovetop and canned cranberry sauce. He keeps it the year Howie shows up at the 118 and immediately proves himself braver and stronger than Tommy ever could be. While everyone else is busy whining about missing their grandma’s mashed potatoes, Tommy scrapes together his sacred traditional Thanksgiving feast. While Tommy’s not looking, Howie steals half of it.

“Mm!” Howie sighs, “That childhood nostalgia fakeness.”

“Hey! That was mine,” Tommy says, without any real heat. He hasn’t been able to muster anything beyond mild irritation for Howie since he saved his life.

“Oh, because you were going to eat all of that in one sitting,” Howie scoffs, “I’ll pay you back your dollar for my half if you really want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tommy huffs, scraping out the other half for his own portion. They sit at the table and eat together, and it’s the closest Tommy’s ever had to spending Thanksgiving with someone.

It’s not until they finish eating and the bell rings that Tommy realizes Howie’s the only one who hasn’t asked Tommy if he’s sad he’s missing out on the holidays.

For the most part, his Thanksgivings after the 118 are spent much the same way, but at Harbor, and alone. He gets to put his leftovers in the fridge and eat off them for a few days. Thanksgiving (save for deep fried turkey incidents) is a relatively tame holiday. No fireworks, at least.

Then, Evan.

A lot of things change for Tommy when Evan crashes into his life, all legs and a blinding smile. Evan is a whirlwind and the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen. Evan is kind of everything.

When Tommy realizes he’s falling in love, it makes him sick to his stomach. He remembers loving his dad enough to excuse his anger, loving his mom enough to let her slip away, loving a country enough to enact its violence, loving the sense of belonging at the 118 enough to allow the kindest people he’s ever met to suffer. Tommy doesn’t love right. He can’t let Evan get tired of him and leave. He can’t poison Evan until he turns into something cruel. So Tommy breaks up with him. Evan asks him to move in, and he can feel the iron jaws of a bear trap closing around his throat, so he breaks up with him.

Tommy doesn’t realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

(Thanksgiving came up between them for the first time when Evan asked if he wanted to do their own thing or go over to the grand 118 Thanksgiving Feast.

“I don’t know,” Evan has shrugged, “I mean, I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to pressure you into a big thing if you don’t want to, or if—if you’re used to smaller Thanksgivings. What does your family do for Thanksgiving?”

“Um,” Tommy had said, a little caught off-guard like he was every time they brushed up against the topic of family, “We didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. I usually just get a box of Stovetop stuffing and a can of cranberry sauce and call it a day.”

Evan had scoffed, mock-offended. “Well! In that case, we’re going. Mark your calendar. You’re going to cream your pants when you try Bobby’s turkey.”

Tommy had smiled and thought maybe. Maybe this will be the year.)

Tommy sighs and opens the box of Stovetop stuffing. His water and butter are already boiling, so he pours the mix in and watches it saturate. He stirs it and takes it off the heat to sit. A strange, painful sadness claws at the inside of his throat. It hurts. It hurts worse than it usually does.

He doesn’t think about Evan and Bobby’s allegedly orgasm-worthy turkey and Howie introducing Tommy to Jee-yun and how close they had all seemed at the hospital for Denny. He walks over to the mantle above his fireplace, with a small, framed pawprint inside, and Teddy 2021 written underneath.

Five minutes passes slowly without anyone to distract him. Tommy tries and fails not to think about every holiday he’s spent alone, or wishing he was alone. This is the first holiday he’s wished for someone in particular who wasn’t his mom or Teddy.

Tommy eats stuffing and canned cranberry sauce at his kitchen table. Somewhere, Evan is in a house warm with love. Somewhere, Evan is loved, wholly and unconditionally. Tommy’s glad people love him. He deserves to be loved.

Tommy doesn’t like watching football on Thanksgiving, so instead he puts on Mean Girls. After his stomach settles, he’s too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and sleep until his shift in the morning.

When Tommy gets to work, he’s surprised when Lucy says, “Delivery for you in the fridge, Kinard, you better eat it before I can get my hands on it.”

Inside the fridge is a glass Tupperware container wrapped in a plastic Chinese takeout bag. There’s a sticky note attached to it that says Bobby’s turkey is even better the next day.

Tommy texts Evan and asks about it. Evan doesn’t say anything back.

But he does get a text from Howie, and the timing is too quick to be coincidence. When you’re reheating it, remember to put half a teaspoon of water in the dish so it doesn’t dry everything out in the microwave.

[motthe]

Married+jayce viktor, visit relatives +she/her reader? Continuation please!! I gotta know more

i hope you enjoy the continuation!!!

warnings: more crazy family shenanigans

Dirty Santa had the family in an uproar when cousin Pat drew number one for the second year in a row. Seeing as your grandmother had made the pieces and walked around with the bowl, no one had any real proof Pat had cheated.

You were happy with your number. It wasn’t dead last like you’d hoped but close enough to see more gifts and get your pick of the litter.

Jayce was scrambling to understand the rules again with Viktor’s help, but even then you’d had to correct him on a few rules.

“Okay,” Jayce muttered, thick brows set in a determined line, “stolen twice and it’s frozen, no stealing back, number one gets to go again at the end and you’re stuck with whatever they trade you.”

“Perfect,” you said. “The rules change from family to family but that’s ours.”

Your more rowdy aunt who was a bit too serious when it came to any type of games shouted for Pat to get a move on. You sat back with your husbands, head cushioned by Jayce’s arm and one of Viktor’s hands in yours. You don’t know where your energy went after dinner, but you could fall asleep to your insane family after years of these events. Although loud and encompassing, it was home, and you were happy your loves were sharing in the madness.

“Who’s five?”

“That would be me,” sighed Viktor as he leaned forward. No one had a chance to offer him assistance as he snatched his cane and use the handle to snag a bag. Everyone whooped as it slid down the length and into his lap.

“Show off!” someone called.

Viktor merely smiled to himself, passing you tissue paper as he revealed a pack of pens, a book of crossword puzzles, and a few of those brain teasers you’d see in bookstores made of wooden figures or metal rings.

“That’s right on the nose for you,” you said, tossing the trash to your father who had the black bag by his chair.

“Yes, I’m quite happy with these,” he hummed, flipping through the crossword puzzles.

“I’m glad someone got them who will actually do them,” your mother sighed, clocking herself as the buyer. “They’re good for your brain!”

After a few more turns, Jayce browsed the lingering gifts on the table in the midst of everyone before eyeing the tool set in Uncle Jimmy’s arms.

“Now, son,” your family member began, mean mugging, “think about that decision.”

Jayce hummed, tapping his chin and staring at ceiling. He was so dramatic. God, you loved him.

Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “I’m thinking I need a new tool set.”

“Ooh, that’s cold,” Great Aunt Lynda cackled, sipping her wine. You could’ve sworn she mentioned a dry December when you all were fixing your plates. Apparently she’d had an incident at Thanksgiving, but you hadn’t been here. You all had gone to Jayce’s mother’s.

Now or made sense why your mother had made it clear that no was to bring beer into this house on the holidays—only wine.

Viktor was sipping some of his own as your number was called. Pulling yourself from his side, you looked over each gift that had already been opened. None of them appealed to you, so you went for the smallest gift bag.

Your husbands leaned in as you pulled out what was clearly a gift card, opening the little flap to see where you’d be buying from.

“How much we talking?” Aunt Pat asked.

“If it’s for fast food I’m taking it,” one of your younger cousins declared.

Viktor choked on a sip while Jayce shrugged, clearly confused as he read the brand. “I don’t dont know this store. Is it local?”

“Oh, it’s local all right,” Great Aunt Lynda said. Everyone snapped their heads to her when she spoke.

“It’s not fast food,” you announced, shoving the card back into the bag. “It’s for medicinal purposes, kiddos.”

“Ew! Medicine?” one of the twins whined, sticking out a tongue. “Who’d want that?”

“Ooh,” Jayce said, tapping away on his phone. “That makes a lot more sense.”

“Lynda there are kids playing!” Dad barked.

She waved a hand, draining her wine glass. “It’s a gift card. Be glad I didn’t bring a D-I-L-D-O—they were two for one!”

“A dodo?” one of the kids questioned.

Jayce lost it. You just shoved the gift bag behind your back and told them to move the game along.

In the end, you and your husbands got to keep your gifts. Aunt Lynda was all too happy to waddle over and talk about the best things to buy before you excused yourself for a bathroom break. Viktor was safe chatting away with Jimmy while Jayce was heading for another snack in the kitchen.

You had all of three, peaceful minutes in the bathroom before your phone lit up.

Groupchat: Jayce 💍 Viktor

Jayce: someone save me Lynda’s blocking the kitchen exit and there’s a mistletoe hanging above her!!

Viktor: That sounds like a trap.

Jayce: no shit!

Viktor: I meant for me. If I come to the rescue, I’m sacrificing my lips for yours.

Jayce: So you’re just going to leave me here?

Viktor thumbed up the question, hearing your laughter from down the hall.

You: Hold on my damsel in distress. I’m on the way.

Jayce: I’m glad to see SOMEONE loves me in this marriage

Washing your hands, you pocketed your phone and readied yourself for the last bit of the party which always ended in more christmas games or old home videos.

Only time would tell.

[thesassypadawan]

Stuffed (Clay x WifeReader)

Summary:  Thanksgiving, a time to gather together with loved ones and friends.  To, well, give thanks and show how much you appreciate one another…by stuffing yourself full of all the delicious eats.  Which your loving husband is more than happy to do…until you gobble and wobble.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  Fun from behind (giddy up), inappropriate table manners, manipulative/possessive Clay, and…  his thick, long dick.

Notes: Happy Thanksgiving all you, lovelies! 🧡❤️

- Hand glides over your pillowy thigh, palm resting a touch too high.  Fingers play with the hem of your nearly inappropriate dress; the one he chose, insisted told you wear.  “What’s the matter, mama…”  Pushing, sliding the material higher and higher.  Exposing more of your supple flesh to the warm kitchen air.  “You’re so quite…”

- Tips press against your flimsy panties, the skimpy pair he laid out this morning.  Rubbing, massaging them into your soaked folds.  “Barely touched your meal…”  The brush of the lacey fabric, accompanied with his wedding ring grazing your pudgy mound.  Forcing you to swallow down each tiny gasp and coo, keep your lips sealed tightly.  “Did I cut the pieces too big for you…”

- Nudging them aside, he slips two long digits into your drooling cunny.  Curling teasingly, dragging them agonizingly slow.  “Peanut giving you grief…”  All the while carelessly carrying on, pretending like you’re not struggling to keep up with the conversation.  Ignoring the fact that you’re sitting in front of your whole extended family, a mess of sticky arousal pooling between your thick legs.  “Tummy upset…”

- Adding a third, pumping slightly faster.  Mind grows increasingly more hazy, hardly able to comprehend the words he’s saying.  “Do you need to lay down for a bit…”  You begin to tremble, shake in your seat.  As Clay nonchalantly sets his wine glass down, leans in close.  Hand settling on top of your bountiful bump, thumb running along its gentle swell.  “Is my little turkey already that stuffed…”

- Somehow you manage to nod in agreement.  Suppressing the whimper that threatens to fly loose when he abruptly removes, mumbling weakly.  “Y-yes…  Can yo-you help me to t-the guestroom, hub-hubby…”

- Tugging, pulling your dress and panties back in place.  He casually wipes off your slick on the patchwork tablecloth, before draping a comforting arm over your shoulders.  “Of course, but let’s make a small stop at the bathroom first,” he mutters, voice caring and yet commanding.  “All right…sweetheart.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- The soft clanking of plates, sound of muffled laughter filters through the paper-thin walls.  Mixing with the loud clinking of his belt buckle hitting your thighs, the almost deafening slap of his hips against yours.

- Bent over the sink, skirt bunched up high on your waist.  “Sssh, need to be quiet…”  Big hand covers, long fingers shoved into your mouth; attempting to stifle the small squeals that escape.  “Need you to be my good girl…”  When the bottom of your bare stomach kisses the cool porcelain with each rough drive.  “Unless…”

- Saliva coated digits trail and descend, wind around your throat.  Squeezing it tenderly, hold firm.  “Unless you want them all to hear…”  Clay forces you to stare at your disheveled reflection; to gaze into his darkened, blue eyes.  Tongue dragging slowly, tantalizingly over the shell of your ear.  “Hear all those lovely noises you make for me…”

- Pace increases, becomes wilder.  Your hands scramble, slip on the smooth surface in a desperate attempt to brace yourself better against his unrestrained thrusts.  To center yourself against the onslaught of raw pleasures that ravage your hormonal, bloated body.  “How well I take care of their precious daughter…”

- Palm kneads, gropes your ample love handle.  Harshly, bruisingly before moving lower.  Gliding across your round tummy, cradling it possessively.  “How you ended up and will stay like this…”

- Grip on your delicate column tightens.  Ring digs, leaves an impression on the sensitive flesh.  “That’s what you want, don’t you…”  Addled brain begins to spiral, pussy clenches and flutters franticly.  Stars burst, vison begins to fade to white.  “For them all to hear how completely I ruin you, to know how utterly you’re mine…”

- Slamming into you one final time, fat tip punches your poor cervix.  Knocking the remaining air from your lungs, causing a mess of strangled mewls and whines spill from your lips.  “Yes…yes…”  As you gush all over his thick length, while he packs your abused pussy to the brim with his hot seed.  “All…all…yours, Clay…”

- Slumping forward, pressing his broad chest to your back.  He loosens his hold, showers your neck and shoulders with sweet kisses.  “That’s my pretty wifey…”  Caressing and rubbing your bump lovingly, droplets of your combined releases trickle down your legs.  “Now, let’s clean you up…  Get you some dessert…  Fill you with the other kind of cream…  Until you’re absolutely stuffed…”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @anakinstwinklebunny, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @beresfordsgirl, @kenmaiica, @sythethecarrot, @xx-ttamaraa, @everydaydreamer, @rafeswifeyy2, @laoif, @xhunnybeeex, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @reaperr-of-souls, @r0ttenz0mb1e, @anisdolly, @milliesrealgf, @ala2ilas-s

[disneyprincemuke]

santa baby * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic!femdriver

notes: hi i know i took forever to write this but uh what r u gonna do? ik u love me B)

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

you hum, whirling around at the camera crew settling right by the front of the mercedes racing home. “ah, it’s that time of years again, isn’t it?”

“yes! are you excited?”

you nod with a smile as you see a box being pulled out of the cart they’ve been lugging around in the paddocks for the video. “have you seen the present? got any hints for me?”

“aw, we can’t do that,” she giggles. “where’s the fun in that?”

secret santa is the yearly affair that you find yourself looking forward to as the year progresses. it’s always the santa hat and the fun of guessing who’s gotten you what this year. what used to be a silly game of gag gifts when you first started out, is now an endearing event filled with thoughtful gifts that you keep on your shelf for years to come.

last year, max had gotten your name. he is very thoughtful with his presents. his present sits at the top of your shelf: a paper mache trophy he admitted that he made with penelope (you’ve met her and she loves you) deeming you his toughest competitor in 2022.

you’re curious to see who drew your name this year.

“oh! do i get to keep this one?” you giggle as she hands you a santa hat. you pull it over your head snuggly and clap your hands. “where is it?”

“here.”

a box is handed to you, wrapped neatly in a mercedes green paper. you squeal as you take it into your hands and carefully unwrap it. there is something about wrapping paper that is so incredibly delicate and worth keeping.

you carefully tear at the tape holding the seams and edges of the box.

“any guesses who it could be right off the bat?”

“it could be anyone at this point,” you sigh, shaking your head. “could it be max again? hopefully it’s not charles — who knows what he will give me.” you look up to the camera. “in secret santa terms, of course. he is actually a good gift giver.”

you tear off the wrapping paper, folding it up neatly before pinning it between your body and elbow. “okay. truth time.”

you pull the cover off the box and tilt your head at the array of presents sitting comfortably in mercedes’ coloured confetti.

“what did you get?”

“a ‘best mum’ mug?” you say, coming out in a slight question as you lift up the pastel green mug to the camera. “am i pregnant and somehow it’s passed me?”

you hear a chorus of laughter as you venture further, each of the presents somehow getting weirder by the second. “and a christmas card? seriously?”

you graze your fingers over the 3d design on the card with a small smile, reading ‘merry christmas!’ with a cute doodle of a christmas tree in the centre. “we’ve been instructed to tell you to read that after you get all the presents and guess him correctly.”

your eyes trail to the gold plate in the shape of a star.

“another trophy!” you shriek. you squint your eyes to read the inscription on the plate. you sigh and press your lips together into a thin line. you hold it up. “best grid mum. the spelling alone gives it away!”

you step forward and let the camera zoom into it, the inscription reading “best grid mom”. “logan’s my secret santa?”

“ah, rookie mistake with the spelling there, wasn’t it?” she laughs. “there’s one more gift. he told us to give it to you when you figure it out.”

somebody else reaches out with a frame in their hands. you take it into your hands and smile, a picture of you and logan sitting right outside the mercedes home together for lunch sits tightly behind the glass.

“this is so sweet!” you coo, one hand covering your red cheeks. “do you want me to read the card?” she nods. you open the folded card and read as you speak. “thanks for welcoming me this year to the grid. you’re the best ever. hope i get to race with you longer than just this season. love, your secret santa.”

you look up as tears well in your eyes, looking into the camera. “aw, you’re the sweetest, logan. don’t worry, i’ve already got a present for him this christmas.”

you point to the lens of the camera. “can i grab this thing real quick for dramatic effect?” he nods. you grab the frame of the lens and take a step forward. “james vowles, if you do not re-sign logan hunter sargeant, i know where to find you.”

@cashtons-wife

[rottenpumpkin13]

please how does friendsgiving go for asgzc??

• Sephiroth spends three weeks researching "typical family Thanksgiving dynamics". His primary conclusion: family gatherings are less about gratitude and more about emotional warfare. He decides he will replicate this to get the most authentic experience possible.

• Angeal assigns everyone designated dishes through a groupchat he forcibly created titled "ain't nobody help last year"

• Texts sent to the group include "Genesis, you're on pie duty, and I swear to Gaia if you bring apple pie instead of pumpkin pie ,I'll personally escort you back to the goddess with a wooden spoon inserted in an unkind place."

• Sephiroth walks through the door and immediately starts asking everyone who they voted for in the last election.

• Cloud is assigned potatoes. He brings yams. Angeal is confused. Cloud is confused. Angeal just pats him on the head and tells him to go sit down.

• Zack is banned from bringing anything requiring actual cooking after the time he tried to "speed up" the cooking process with fire materia and singed off Angeal's eyebrows. He's now only allowed to bring drinks and plastic utensils. Still manages to bring paper plates that dissolve on contact with hot food.

• Sephiroth sees Zack and Cloud having a friendly talk and decides to bring up Aerith and his opinions on who's a better suitor for her.

• Angeal starts stress drinking in the kitchen as soon as Genesis walks through the door with an apple pie and his sword to defend himself.

• Zack gets effectively banned from the kitchen because he keeps picking at the food and eating it. Angeal tried the wooden spoon as a method of discipline, but the spoon had gravy on it so Zack kept trying to lick it.

• Sephiroth hones in on Zack as he's leaving the kitchen.

Sephiroth: So how are your career aspirations progressing relative to statistically average performance metrics for individuals of your demographic? *Zack starts crying*

• Cloud brought Banora White apples instead of the bread rolls he was assigned. When asked about this, he says Genesis told him bread rolls were "cancelled" and he had to bring apples instead. Angeal has the type of breakdown where he's on the kitchen floor, laughing with a wine glass in hand while having a conversation with the turkey in the oven.

• Angeal posts an aesthetic picture on his social media with the whole group smiling. He captions it "Grateful for friends ❤️" but the reality is that he yelled at them two minutes before the photo was taken because no one remembered to bring drinks.

• Three different music playlists compete for dominance: Genesis' orchestral versions of Loveless: the musical, Zack's "All I Want For Christmas Is You" on repeat, and Sephiroth's documentary podcast about the history of cutlery.

• There's a photo of Sephiroth on Zack's camera roll where he's dissociating while eating a turkey leg ???

• Cloud and Zack have a fallout because the way mac n' cheese is made in Gongaga vs. Nibelheim is a serious cultural divide.

Zack: In Gongaga, we add tomato sauce! Cloud: In Nibelheim, we add breadcrumbs! Sephiroth: Mac n' cheese is not native to either regions. *unintelligible yelling from Zack and Cloud*

• Genesis is asked to lead the group in prayer before the meal.

Genesis: Our goddess who resides within the Lifestream, when the war of the beasts brings about the world's end— Zack: NO.

• They all go around saying what they're thankful for.

Zack: I'm thankful for my best friend Cloud!

Cloud: I'm thankful for the opportunity to be here with you guys.

Genesis: I'm thankful for poetry.

Angeal: I'm thankful for patience and wine.

Sephiroth: I'm thankful that statistically speaking, all of us have unresolved childhood traumas that directly stem from our inability to process emotions, form healthy attachments, and keep secrets. For example, Genesis broke Angeal's favorite mug.

Genesis: YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T TELL!

Angeal: THE GREEN MUG?

Zack: WTF YOU TOLD ME THE YELLOW MUG I GAVE YOU FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY WAS YOUR FAVORITE!

Cloud: YOU GAVE ANGEAL A MUG BUT GOT ME A KEYCHAIN?

*they all start yelling at each other*

Sephiroth: Thanksgiving feels authentic now.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Even Luckier Man » Lee Bodecker

Pairings: Husband!Lee Bodecker x Wife!Reader

Summary: You tell Lee the best news when he comes home from work.

Warnings: Fluff, language, pregnant!reader, kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

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

Lee sighs tiredly as he walked in the house. His senses immediately picked up when he smelt something good coming from the kitchen. He followed the smell, finding a freshly baked cherry pie on the kitchen counter. Lee licks his lips and hums in satisfaction, excited to eat it. He then furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. You only make pies for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and sometimes for his birthday. It’s none of those days. What day could it be?

“Oh good! You’re home!” You exclaimed happily.

Lee turned around, greeting you with a kiss on your lips.

“Just out of curiosity, what’s with the freshly baked pie, darlin’?” Lee asks curiously.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” You rubbed your hands against his chest. “Sit down at the table and I’ll cut you a slice.” You say sweetly.

“Yes, ma’am.” He says.

Lee went to the dining room and sat down at the table, patiently waiting for you to give him a slice of pie. You cut him a decently sized piece of pie and went to the dining room, placing the plate in front of him on the table.

“Looks amazing, sugar.” Lee compliments before taking a bite. “Oh my god! This tastes amazing!” He exclaims.

“Thank you, sweetie.” You blushed.

“I do have to ask though…” He took another bite of pie before asking his question. “What’s the occasion?” He curiously asks. “It’s not my birthday and it’s not Thanksgiving or Christmas.” He says.

You bit your bottom lip and fiddled with your fingers, trying everything in you to contain your excitement. You have extremely exciting news for your husband.

“I know.” You continued to fiddle with your fingers. “I made you a pie for a very special reason.” You say.

Lee looked at you and took another bite of pie, waiting for you to say what the special reason is.

“Let me start off by saying, you’re a lucky man.” You began.

“I’ve been a lucky man since that day I laid my eyes on your gorgeous self, darlin’.” He smiles, making you blush.

“Well, you just got even luckier.” You smiled. “You’re gonna be a daddy.” You tell him, smiling widely.

Lee’s eyes went wide, his jaw dropping. He was completely speechless.

“I’m- you’re pregnant?” Lee asks, making sure he heard you right.

“Yes.” You smiled and nodded.

Lee stood up from the chair, pulling you up with him and hugging you tightly. He kissed you with so much love and passion that it took your breath away.

“We’re having a baby.” Lee whispers, putting his hands on your soon to be pregnant belly.

“We’re having a baby.” You confirmed softly, putting your hands on top of his.

The whole night Lee couldn’t stop smiling and touching your belly. He even talked to your soon to be bump before he went to sleep. Lee slept well that night.

The following day, you made Lee lunch and took it to the station. You walked in the station with Lee’s lunch and a smile on your face.

“Knock knock.” You say in a soft singing voice, knocking on his office door.

“Come on in, darlin’.” Lee smiles, motioning for you to come inside his office.

You walked in his office, putting his lunch in front of him and sat on his lap. Lee wrapped an arm around your waist while his free hand found its place on your belly. You gave him a sweet and soft kiss.

“You look even more beautiful.” He says.

“I did just buy this dress.” You looked down at it, smoothing it out with your hands. “Do you like it?” You asked.

“I love it.” He murmurs softly. “Just imagine what your belly will look like in it soon.” He muses, rubbing your belly.

Lee’s fingers tickled you a bit, making you giggle and squirm in his lap. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders to steady yourself.

“What did you bring me, sugar?” Lee asks, moving the paper bag closer to him.

“Your favorite.” You answered.

“You’re my favorite.” He smirks, playfully nipping at your neck.

You blushed at his words.

“I fucking love you, darlin’.” Lee whispers.

“I love you too, sweetie.” You whispered back.

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

-Bucky’s Doll

[michelle-is-writing]

Birthday Pie, Spencer Reid

I was inspired to write this while watching the earlier seasons, so I know I wrote this a very long time ago.

Word Count: 1.1k~

Waiting at Spencer's desk with the rest of the team, we all happily stand in anticipation of the celebration of a certain holiday. Today is October 12th, meaning it is officially Spencer's birthday, and because of the very special occasion, we plan on spending it the best way we can. We'll have "cake" here in the morning and let him open our gifts for him, then once we all get off of work later, we'll go to a Chinese restaurant - one that has forks for Spencer, of course.

In all of our hands, we each have a gift for Spencer, and in the middle of his desk sits a pie I made for him which I am praying he will like. It's a chocolate chess pie which I thought was very fitting since Spencer likes chess and chocolate. I also know on your birthday you're supposed to have cake and ice cream, but maybe after 27 years, he'll want something else...?

"Do you think he'll like the pie instead of a regular Birthday cake?" I ask JJ, slightly unsure.

"Oh, he'll love it, (Y/n)," She assures me with one of her perfect smiles.

"Pretty boy loves anything you do," Morgan adds with a smirk. "Trust me."

I lightly laugh at his remark before sarcastically saying a small "Sure."

"No, no," Penelope cuts me off, waving her hands frantically with a huge smile. "You could walk a straight line and Spencer could give an hour-long seminar on how perfect your movements were," Immediately, my cheeks begin to blush while the rest of the team laughs at her comment. "Just sayin'," She finishes, holding her hands out in a shrug motion.

Just as she finishes speaking, my eyes move to the main entrance hall where my handsome brunet boyfriend is currently walking through the doors. Without noticing us at first, he mindlessly heads over to the area while straightening out his brown and green harlequin-pattern sweater vest. He doesn't even realize the spot he just fixed is going to be messed up again by the inevitable Birthday pin that Penelope plans to bestow upon him.

I watch as Spencer turns the corner, his pace slowing down before coming to a stop as sees us all waiting at his desk. It only takes a short second before he realizes what's going on, causing him to break into an award-winning grin and quicken his speed over to us. "Happy Birthday!" We all yell at the same time, making his eyes light up like fireworks.

"What's this?" He asks as he stops beside me, one of his hands instantly coming up to rest against my back.

"A birthday surprise, my love," I answer him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Pushing my gift into his hands, I smile at him as he gazes at me with what hope is a mix of love and happiness. "Happy twenty-seventh birthday, Spencer."

After opening all of our gifts, Spencer sits down in his chair while I sit on the edge of his desk and cut a slice of pie for him. "What kind is it?" He asks, his eyes matching the sweet treat in front of him. Smiling, I push the slice of pie onto a paper plate before handing it to him.

"Chocolate chess," I tell him with a nod, watching as he chuckles; I'm glad he got the joke.

"I already like it," he tells me, referring to the name. Looking over at Morgan, I see both he and Penelope mouth "Told you so."

Handing Spence a fork, I watch as he takes the first bite of the pie, a half-surprised, half-happy emotion filling his face as he begins chewing the morsel of food. "Oh my God," he says, food still in his mouth. A moment of panic fills me as I begin to think he doesn't like it. "This tastes amazing," Those three words instantly take all the fear and worry away, causing me to grin and let out a sigh of relief.

Soon enough, everyone else has a slice of pie, each having reactions like Spencer. "This is really, really good, (Y/n)," Prentiss approves.

"Yes, it is!" Penelope agrees, taking another bite of her slice.

"Mama, I am coming to your place for Thanksgiving," Derek announces, causing me to hide my grin. Even Rossi and Hotch had something good to say about the pie I made, all of the comments making me feel like I've done a good job.

Once Spencer is done with his slice, he places the empty plate on his desk before wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me from the edge and onto his lap. Meanwhile, the rest of the team heads back to their desks, all of them having so much work to do all of a sudden.

Smiling at Spencer's antics, I lean my head back against his shoulder and look up at him, his chocolate eyes meeting my own (e/c) eyes. We both know we can't do this for long as neither of us want to be written up, but we can risk it for today.

"Did you like your birthday surprise?" I ask him, watching as he nods.

"Of course I did," he assures me, reaching a hand up to cup my cheek. Leaning my head down toward his, Spencer attaches his lips to mine for a second before pulling away, trying to keep it at least a little professional at work. "You should know that I enjoy anything you do."

"Oh yeah?" I can't help but ask, leaning my head a bit further into his shoulder. Still smiling, he looks away from my eyes as a red tint spreads across his cheeks. I almost laugh at the sight, finding the irony in the situation that he's already blushing despite me not saying my next comment yet.

"Well then, I know you'll enjoy tonight," I tell him, dressing another kiss to his cheek as his eyes growing wide at the many implications behind my words. I can only giggle at his reaction, reveling in the knowledge that that's the best part - he truly has no idea what's in store for him tonight. He doesn't know about our plans to go to the Chinese restaurant and eat with the rest of the team later, nor does he know about my plans to surprise him with a new set of lingerie in his favorite color tonight. However, I think he might have some growing suspicions going by the smirk that slowly worms its way across his face.

"I can't wait," He finally murmurs to me, giving my hip a tight, yet discreet squeeze. With that, I know he definitely has an idea of what's in store for him and I can't wait either.

[mayahawkesfirstwife]

To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before (Part 1)

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This series is based off of the movie “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” but like the gay Stranger Things version. If you haven’t seen it you should go watch, it’s so good! This is more of a modern day, so they have cell phones and social media! I hope y’all enjoy.

Parts: Part 1, Part 2

Pairings: Robin Buckley x Fem! Reader

Summary: Y/n writes secret, soul-baring letters to her five crushes, but never meant to send them. Now they are out and wreaking havoc on your life.

Italics are Y/n’s thoughts.

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Y/N’S POV

The forbidden kiss.

We knew that it was wrong, that she was betrothed to my brother.

But if this wasn't what she wanted, then why did she come to the field of desire?

It was fated, that we should meet like this.

I snap out of my fantasy when I feel a pillow get thrown at me.

“Are we hanging out or what?” Will, my little brother asks.

I sat up on my bed, “I just want to finish this chapter.”

We hear dishes clatter and Johnathan walks up beside Will, looking into my room.

“Should we go help her?” I ask, looking up from my book.

“She wants to do it herself, but please come help me set the table.”

I stood up and followed my brothers out of the room and we heard a knock at the door and Johnathan opened it, revealing Nancy.

“Hey.” Nancy says, Johnathan smiles. “Hey.”

“I’m not too late, am I?” She asks, nervously.

“Of course not.” Johnathan says as he lets her in and she pecks his lips.

“Smells great, Ms. Byers.” She says, as we all walk to the kitchen.

“Hey, Nancy!” Our mom, Joyce says, as she was placing a pan down.

I leaned on a nearby wall and Nancy walks over and gives me a smile. “Hi, Y/n.” She says.

“Hi…”

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“I can’t believe we aren’t going to see you till Thanksgiving…” Will says to Johnathan as we all are putting food on their plates.

“It’s going to be Christmas, actually, Sweetie.” Our mom corrects him.

“Wait, are you kidding? We’re not going to see him till Christmas?” I gasp.

“Listen, on the bright side…Johnathan won’t be taking the car every day so you can practice driving.”

“I forgot I have to drive with Y/n now…” Will groans, and I furrow my eyebrows, looking over at him.

“Or you could ride the bus, since you hate the thought of me driving you.”

“Or I can drive and if we get pulled over we can just switch seats real quick.” Will says and our mom chuckles.

“That’s a good idea, hon!” She jokes.

“Johnathan…I have a surprise for you!” Nancy giggles as she pulls out a paper from her purse.

She hands it to Johnathan, “Oh.” he grabs it and opened it.

“Since you couldn’t come home for Thanksgiving, I figured I’d bring home to you.” She smiles.

“It’s a plane ticket, for me!” She puts her hands together, excitingly.

“Nancy, how sweet!” Our mom smiles, rubbing Johnathan’s shoulder.

“You…you already paid for this?” Johnathan asks and Nancy’s smile starts to fade.

“Yeah…why?”

Johnathan sighs and hands the paper back to her as Will takes a bite of his food, “Mm, yum!”

I guess I should tell you a little bit about Nancy.

She and Johnathan have been together for the past 3 years, but before he even cared who she was, Nancy was my friend.

I could talk to her about anything.

We didn’t stop being friends when she and Johnathan got together, things were just different.

It’s not that I wanted to steal my brothers girlfriend or anything, I was super happy for Johnathan, he deserves a girl like Nancy.

So I wrote her a letter.

I wasn’t going to send the letter, or anything. It was just for me to understand how I was feeling.

My letters are my most secret possessions.

I open the little blue circle box with the ribbon on top, pulling out the five letters, tied with a bow.

There are five total.

Heather from my first job;

Robin from seventh grade;

Tina from homecoming;

Amelia from summer camp;

And Nancy.

I write a letter when I have a crush so intense that I don’t know what else to do.

Re-reading my letters reminds me of how powerful my emotions can be.

“What are you doing?” I heard my brother ask, I turn around quickly and shove the letter back in the blue box and hid it under some clothes.

“Nothing.”

“Your rooms kind of a mess.” He chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I look around at the clothes and make-up scattered on the ground and got up to sit beside him.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He says, “Well, I don’t know, I just broke up with Nancy.”

“You did what? Why?” I exclaim.

“It’s just not a good idea to go to college with a girlfriend,”

“But you love her.” I said, he nods. “I know, I do, alot.”

“So, do you think you might change your mind?” I asked and he sniffles, hesitating.

“No, no, it’s over.” He says with a sigh.

“So when I was packing, I had mom make a box of things to take to Goodwill. I think you should do it too, I made you a box.” He said.

I looked around my room and sigh, “Well, I don’t think theres anything I can part with at the moment.”

“Y/n, i’m leaving tomorrow. That means you’re going to be the biggest sibling. You need to set a good example for Will.”

“Fine.” I said while I roll my eyes playfully.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

The day after Johnathan left I had went to school and things just didn’t feel the same.

I was walking through the hall, I spot Nancy and we make eye contact.

My eyes linger on her as I walk, I waved awkwardly and bump into someone.

“Ow! Excuse you?”

“Oh, my god, Vickie.” I said, noticing who it was.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” I said, fiddling with my rings.

“Oh, it’s you.” She says, rolling her eyes.

Vickie…

We used to be best friends.

But post-middle school, for reasons i’d like to not discuss right now, we are now not best friends.

“Cute shoes.” She says, sarcastically as she eyes my Mary Janes.

“They’re vintage, I got them on Etsy.” I said, defending myself as Chrissy walks up to us.

“And they’re amazing! Not everyone can pull them off.” She says, wrapping her arm around me.

“But for you, well, it’s probably a good thing you’re playing it safe with those…uggs.” She says, with a chuckle as she looks at Vickies shoes.

I giggle and Vickie looks down at her shoes and makes a face at Chrissy.

Chrissy.

My best friend, my only friend really…

“You know what, Chrissy? Screw you, my feet are always cold.” Vickie says as Robin walks up behind her.

“Hey, babe.” She says, wrapping her arms around the girl and kissing her cheek.

“Hi.” Vickie smiles, looking up at the girl.

“How are you?” Robin asks, Vickie looks back at Y/n. “I’m good. How are you?” “Good.”

Remember, Robin?

The second one of my love letters?

That’s this Robin.

Vickie’s Robin.

Seventh grade, my first real boy/girl party. Everyone knew that Robin and Vickie, who was my still BFF at the time, only wanted to kiss each other.

We kissed at a game of spin the bottle, it lasted one second and Vickie was pissed.

Robin looks over at me and Chrissy and nods her head at me, I smile awkwardly and look down.

“So I was just complimenting Y/n’s, pretty little princess shoes.” Vickie pouts and me and Chrissy give each other the look as Robin and Vickie look down at my shoes.

“Well, bye!” Vickie pulls away from Robin and walks off, Robin stands there. “Oh…she just stopped drinking caffeine for some diet, I think it’s just a…um, withdrawal?”

I roll my eyes and look over at Chrissy who smirks, “Right…” Robin walks off.

“Do you really like my Mary Janes?”

Chrissy chuckles, “Duh!” She pulls me to walk with her and I giggled.

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