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I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

“Are we gonna have cake today?”

It was just the next in an already long list of excitable questions from the toddler who had been helping her prepare for the Christmas dinner they were hosting in their home later that evening. And by helping, she meant kneeling on the bar stool with her elbows on the counter and chin in her hands while she watched Michonne knead the dough for the rolls, all of which was just fine with Michonne if it meant keeping her little red velvet dress free from little floured handprints.

“We might,” Michonne said hopefully for her benefit as she dusted a little more flour over the dough. “Aunt Carol is bringing dessert, so I’m sure it will be something good.”

“And we’ll sing the song?”

Michonne glanced up at her, unsure of what the song was, but whatever it was, it didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility for the evening.

“We can sing some carols,” she allowed, a little smirk forming on her lips as she heard the back door open. “In fact, I’m sure your dad and brother would love to.”

“Love to what?” Rick asked as he rounded the corner with an armful off freshly chopped firewood.

“Sing Christmas carols,” she teased as he passed by on his way over to their fireplace.

“Oh,” he said in monotone as he just kept on walking.

She wasn’t wild about the idea of singing in front of others, even if they were her nearest and dearest, and she knew Rick would be even less so. It’s not that he was a Grinch, it just simply wasn’t him. But he showed his Christmas spirit in other ways like red and black check flannel shirt he’d dug out of his closet for the occasion. The only other time she’d seen that shirt was last Christmas, so she figured it was now his own little tradition, and it was as cute as could be.

“You know, I heard Daryl sayin’ how much he was lookin’ forward to that,” Rick deflected as he rejoined his girls in the kitchen, stopping at his daughter’s side and leaning down to get down to her level. “You should go find him out back. See if he wants to practice.”


Her chubby cheeks and naturally pouty lips contorted as she stared long and hard at her father, and he playfully mirrored her face with his own squinty eyes and pouty face, leaning in so close that their noses were touching. She was only four years old, but even she knew that the man of few words who dressed in all black and sulked around their house from time to time would probably not be interested in singing with her. Her father placed a kiss on her nose and she pulled away, then hopped off the stool, off to find her Uncle Daryl.

“She is so on to you,” Michonne said once she was out of earshot.

“It was only a matter of time with your influence,” he said as he stood and began to walk around the kitchen island over to her side.

“That’s my girl,” Michonne shrugged.

“It shows.”

As he disappeared behind her, her hands slowed and a grin started to form on her lips in anticipation of what was coming, and he didn’t disappoint. His chest pressed against her back, arms slid around her waist, and his full, mostly white bearded chin pressed against her temple. The soft flannel of his shirt and heat radiating from his body only served to make his embrace that much warmer. She leaned her head back against his chest, breathing in the scent of soap still lingering on his skin and the freshly cut wood smell on his shirt, then tilted her chin up to meet his lips with hers.

“I love this shirt on you,” she murmured into his lips in the brief pause between the end of her kiss and the start of the next one he leaned in for.

She loved all of his shirts, though; the white t’s, the denim button downs, the occasional linen shirt, and even the old pearls snaps from the prison days.

“I’m gonna remind you of that tonight after everybody leaves…”

“Tonight?” she asked as she turned in the space between the counter and his body and placed her arms over his shoulders and crossed her wrists behind his head, careful not to touch his back with her flour-covered hands. “They don’t need us. Judith and Carl can run the show if we want to slip away for a bit…”

He tilted his head, pleasantly surprised by her proposition, and hooked his hands over her outstretched arms that bridged the gap between them.

“That sounds like somethin’ I would say,” he whispered as he leaned in to capture her lips with his and see just how game she was.

But the back door flung open, slamming against the wall, and the thud of small, but mighty steps barreling down the hall followed.


“Yes?” Rick called out through gritted teeth, frustrated with the interruption, as he pulled away from Michonne immediately stepped to her side so as not to get caught in the almost-act.

“I saw Mommy,” she started with breathless excitement as she reappeared in the kitchen.

“Saw Mommy what?” Michonne asked curiously as she watched the little girl climb back on the stool.

“Kissing Santa Claus.”

“What?” Rick asked.

“Daryl said you wanna sing that song.”

Michonne bit down on her lip, trying to stifle a grin as she looked up at the love of her life with his greyed out beard and red shirt, frowning at Daryl’s selection once he put it all together.

“You know Jingle Bells and Rudolph, right sweetheart?”

She nodded vigorously at her father.

“Perfect,” he said of the two most cloying, upbeat Christmas songs he could think of. “Then let Daryl know that’s what we’ll be singing, and don’t you leave his side until he knows every single word, OK?”

She narrowed her eyes at her father, again getting the sneaking suspicion she was the pawn in some sort of game going on between the adults even if she couldn’t quite figure out what that was. She looked over to her mother for reassurance who just nodded, agreeing with her father.

“OK…” she sighed as she climbed off the stool and started for the back door again.

“I feel like I need to go shave and change my shirt,” he mumbled, now feeling self-conscious about the comparison.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned as she grabbed a handful of his shirt in her hand and pulled him closer to recapture his lips with hers. “Later,” she whispered.

“Later, Mrs. Claus,” he agreed before snagging just one more kiss to tide him over until then.

(written by @birdnmouse)

@thesuperkenz said :  DamiTim and “you can’t get tattooed drunk, come back in the morning and if you still want my name on your ass we’ll talk” AU, please

LOOK WHO IS ALIVE YES YES I AM POSTING A PROMPT omg so much still waiting in my box I’m sorry everyone T.T This is a “no super hero” AU, meh


Tim was turning on his heels, twirling around the shop. “That’s… Quite a chance that place isn’t closed ‘till midnight.” He mumbled, his voice slurred. Bart and Conner were behind him, Bart with an apologetic look on his face, the other smiling like mad.

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@skyungill replied to your post: ❝ i’m drunk, dizzy & missing you. ❞ - Jae
Jaebum stared at the phone when he text him back and unconsciously poked his bottom lip out as he rested his chin on the bar counter. [text]you come take me home. I am at the bar where we met.

It was some sort of rule for him to not stick with someone for too long in order to not get them attached to him -but mostly he did it to avoid having himself grow feelings over someone-.
His intention was to ignore him now, so he put his phone back in his pocket without replying, going back to his work.

….. His will wasn’t that strong that night though and, eventually, he found himself walk thought the door of said bar, looking around to spot the other guy.

At The Last Minute || Rachel & George

She was nearly dozing where she sat, her elbow resting on top of the counter, chin resting on her open palm while her other hand gripped a coffee mug which she had just poured. Who knew that the last minute preparation could get rather hectic? And after dealing with the last minute food preparations, and having fireworks explode in her face on accident, her face was still stinging and had ash from where it had exploded. And making sure the shelves were all stocked and ready to be purchased by the customers they would be getting.

And that only left the matter of the entertainment. Rachel knew she would be performing and had been practicing inside her room at the Leaky Cauldron, after making sure the room was sound proof, because she did not want anyone shouting at her for being loud. Which was also another reason she was a little sleepy. Her elbow slipped and the jerk woke her up, nearly making her slosh her coffee over her hand. But she quickly steadied herself, shaking her head as she took a sip of the warm beverage.

“I feel like crap.” She grumbled to herself, frowning at her murky reflection in the coffee knowing she didn’t look any better with how dirty she was at the moment.


You were so upset. Like, seriously - you had never been this sad in your entire life before and you didn’t know if you were going to get over it. You were sat at the kitchen counter, your chin propped up against your palm as you let out a heavy sigh. The day had finally come and you didn’t know how to deal with this - it had never happened before and it was absolutely surreal that it was actually happening right now.. 

“Why so glum, my little plum?” Harry padded into the kitchen, standing at the opposite side of the counter as he mimed your position. He had noticed you had been a wee bit moody this morning but he couldn’t figure out why - he hadn’t done anything… right? 

“S’terrible, Harry. Absolutely heartbreaking.” You shook your head, Harry pouting a little at your response. 

“If you told me about what was so heartbreaking I could try to help.” Harry offered, eyebrows knitting together in curiosity. “Yeh know ‘m always here t’ help you. Tha’s what boyfriends are for.” 

“I suppose..” You murmured, rubbing at your eyes before letting out another sigh and sitting up straight. 

“Okay, then wha’s the matter?”

“It’s just..” You stopped yourself, looking up at the ceiling for a split second. “It’s just.. Sephora stopped selling my favourite lipstick shade.” There was a moment of silence before Harry let out a loud groan, dropping his head onto the kitchen countertop. 

“Tha’s it?! All tha’ whinin’ and poutin’ for one lipstick shade??” 

“Wha- hey! It’s a pretty shade! This little plum is going to be even more glum without her favourite lipstick on!” You defended your stance, Harry rolling his eyes and letting out a playful scoff. 

“You are such a drama queen, Y/N.” 


honestly me af 

gifs aren’t mine!


Request: littleflower-boy- Thank you! Could you do one where the reader is a teen Avenger that can turn invisible and is really depressed and angsty but when brotherly Pietro tries to help, she freaks out and disappears? ;-;

A/N: Here’s your request! Hope you like it :) *”îngerul meu dulce” translates to “my sweet angel” in Romanian*

Warning: Depression is mentioned (I don’t know if that triggers anyone, so I rather be safe than sorry)

Word Count: 1477

 It was like any other morning in the Avengers tower–Bruce and Tony sat on the couch talking about what they’d be experimenting, Nat Clint and Steve went over the training sessions, while Wanda and Vision sat at another couch while Pietro reeked havoc between the two. You, on the other hand, were glued onto a stool as you leaned your elbow on the counter, chin placed in the palm of your hand while you twirled your spoon around in your cereal bowl. “One month,” You thought as you looked over to the calendar that was plastered on the wall next you. “One month since I left…”

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Open starter (kimmie)

Sundays were always slow during the mornings, the candy store would get a few customers every so often, mainly kids stocking up for school the following day. Kimmie sighed resting on the counter, her chin resting in her palm. The owner had trusted her to supervise the store alone and quite frankly she was bored stupid. And when she was bored.. she ate. “Oh screw it, diets are stupid anyway” she huffed and popped a jelly baby into her mouth chewing happily. After all she would rather be happy and eat that to starve herself, she didn’t care what bullies said about her weight. As long as she wasn’t a health risk she didn’t mind being a bit chubby!

             He didn’t account for the other to be frustrated or busy with something. He sulked silently when he didn’t get the reaction he anticipated or wanted and leaned his elbows onto the counter, his chin resting in the palm of one of his hands a moment later. He wanted play a little game, get the other’s favourite restaurant through a series of hypothetical questions before he asked him out but Tin seemed uninterested in him entirely. In the month that he spent subtly courting the other, throwing in gentle flits between actual questions of interest and conversations that he unfortunately had to cut short, his attraction to the other only grew mostly because he grew to knew him and his crush only deepened until it became unbearable. But perhaps he would have to lay his plan to rest for another day. One hand dropped back onto the counter, fingers drumming rather impatiently against it and his pout stayed consistent on his lips.  ❛ What are you working on there, anyway? ❜ He asked, sending small death glares towards the paper that seemed to hold the other’s full attention.

                                                  ( cont. @affectionesque )

A low curse comes from across the room and Angie glances up. Peggy gives her an apologetic look, before continuing to speak. “Look, James, I really need those files as soon as possible. Courier them over if you have to. Yes. To my home. No, I don’t care if it isn’t protocol. It’s secure.” She exhales, her nostrils flaring, and Angie leans on the counter, chin in her hand, watching.  This version of Peggy captivates her, the version of Peggy in control and dishing out orders like she’s back in France and jumping out of planes with Captain America. “And get me MK’s number in Paris.” An exasperated sigh. “Yes, James. I will hold.”

“Who’s MK?”

Peggy softens, and her smile is one she reserves only for Angie. It’s enough to make a girl’s heart jump clean outta her chest. “An Austrian Operative from close to the Czech boarder. She’s in Paris now, but has connections all over the place. I needed her to look into—” she stops and lunges for a pen. “Yes, okay James, I’m ready.”  Peggy copies down the number dutifully and Angie just shakes her head.

“Anyone ever told ya not to bring work home?” she asks when Peggy hangs up the telephone.  The eggs are cooking quickly.

“I’m sure a little bird might have said something about it once or twice.”

“Well no more work until you eat. The eggs are ready.” Angie cuts off the gas.

“I really should call Mirc—MK back.” Peggy checks her watch. “We’re getting into the dinner hour.”