I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus - Damian Wayne x Batmom
Prompt: You know the song I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus? Pretty much what the title says with Damian being shocked to see Batmom kissing “Santa Bruce Wayne Claus”.
“Damian, sweetie, what are you doing?” You asked looking suspiciously as you observed Damian setting up a dangerous looking bear trap in the fireplace. As a parent you figured you should at least a little bit worried, as Batmom though little surprised you anymore.
“I’m protecting us from unwanted intruders.” He answered simply, not bothering to stop setting the trap or at the very least act like he should be hiding what he was trying to do.
“Protect us from who?” You asked.
“The supposed magic fat man who breaks into homes through the chimney. He won’t be getting into this home.” Damian said with fierce determination. You racked your mind on how to possibly rein in this situation.
“You mean Santa Claus?” You asked.
“Yes. He will pay dearly for breaking and entering into our home.” He said threateningly.
“Sweetie, Santa leaves presents. He doesn’t have any ill intentions when he comes into houses.”
“It’s about the principle mother! He has no right!” Damian said righteously. And to think you thought Damian didn’t believe in Santa Claus …
When night fell and all the boys went to bed you went down to the kitchen to grab a glass of water when you ran into Santa Claus himself. You smiled fondly at Bruce while he set presents under the tree in a bright red suit.
“I’d watch where you step if I were you. Damian took … precautions.” You cautioned him, leaning against the doorframe as you slowly sipped your water.
“Believe me, I know. I had to disable a trip wire connected to the trigger of a crossbow.” Bruce chuckled setting the bag of presents down and walking over to wrap his arms around your waist.
“You should have at least triggered a few of them. An arrow imbedding in the wall or some spilled blood will go a long way to keep Damian’s belief alive.” You joked poking him in the side.
“Duly noted.” He grumbled. You smiled warmly at him before being overcome by a deep yawn.
“Come to bed soon? Knowing Dick, it’ll be an early morning.”
“Go ahead and go to bed. I’ll only be a few more minutes.” Bruce encouraged gently.
“Alright.” You agreed reaching up to press a kiss onto Bruce’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Santa.” You said playfully. Bruce smirked and tilted his head slightly so that your lips met. You giggled lightly at the feeling of his fake beard scratching your face.
“Intruder!” Damian’s voice shouted out furiously from the stair case. “Get your hands off my mother!” He snarled, charging at ‘Santa’ with his sword raised. Bruce sent you a quick wink before throwing down a smoke bomb and disappearing to goodness knows where.
“Coward!” Damian shouted into the emptiness of the room, hoping that the intruder would show his face and battle him. When it was clear that wouldn’t happen Damian rushed over to your side.
“Did he hurt you? I swear I will hunt him down if he hurt you!” Damian promised. You gently laughed and hugged him to you, your fierce over-protective son.
“I’m fine, sweetie. Let’s go back to bed.” You said, already leading him towards his room. “No buts.” You said firmly when he looked like he wanted to argue. He let you lead him back to his room but stopped you in front of you and Bruce’s door.
“I’m staying with you tonight, Mother. I won’t let him hurt you.” He insisted. You smiled fondly at him and gently ran your fingers through his hair. From the look in his eyes he wasn’t about to take no for an answer.
“My hero.” You smiled genuinely and opened the door to your room. Luckily Bruce lay “sleeping” in the bed, appearing to never have left. Oh you’re good …
Smiling to yourself you crawled into bed with Damian not far behind you, falling asleep between you and Bruce. It would seem that Damian scared the intruder Santa off because he quickly fell asleep and didn’t wake up until early the next morning when Dick bounded in during his rounds to wake everyone up.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” You looked up from trying to put the
tiny Iron Man helmet back onto the Tony doll.
“Why didn’t Daddy ever wear a cape?”
James was looking over the Captain America action figure
curiously, the two of you sitting on the floor on either side of the set of
Avengers action figures Tony had bought him last Christmas. Steve glanced over
his shoulder at you from his place at the stove but left the question for you
“That’s a good question,” you said, tilting your head in
thought and letting your eyes sweep over your husband with an evaluating gaze.
“Uncle Thor has one… and Uncle Vision.”
“You’re right! Hmm… You know, I bet he didn’t wear one
because it would hide his best asset,” you said with a grin, biting back a
laugh when you saw Steve shake his head and let out a sigh.
“Like his best feature.”
“What is it?” There was no stifling the giggle that resulted
from the blush that was coloring the back of Steve’s neck and ears in
anticipation of your answer.
“His calves,” you answered in a conspiratory stage whisper,
pointing at his legs.
James looked over at his father curiously, pushing up from
the ground to scamper over to him. You had to clap a hand over your mouth when
James tugged up the pant leg of Steve’s sweatpants to compare his dad’s calf to
“What’re you doing, buddy?” Steve asked, reaching down to
ruffle his son’s hair.
“Am I gonna have calves like yours one day?” he asked
hopefully, a disappointed pout threatening the tiny bow of his mouth.
You snuck up behind him, reveling in the surprised squeal
and delighted laugh you earned as you scooped James up into your arms.
“Only if you eat all of your vegetables,” you answered,
planting a noisy kiss on his cheek and receiving another giggle in return.
“Promise.” You offered up your pinky, smiling when you felt
your son’s tiny finger curl around yours. “Now go sit at the table while Dad
and I finish making lunch, please.”
“Clean up first?” he asked, glancing towards where his toys
still lay on the ground when you set him down.
“I’ll take care of it, but thank you. I’m proud of you for
His little chest puffed up a bit at the praise, and you
watched him head into the dining room with a proud smile.
“My calves?” Steve asked, bumping your hip with his.
“Admit you were scared for a little bit there,” you said
with a laugh, retaliating with a gentle nudge to the ribs.
“You’re ridiculous,” he said with an exasperated sigh, but
you caught the smile that curled the corner of his mouth.
“Maybe so,” you admitted, smacking his butt as you walked
past him to pull bowls from the cabinet.
Summary: Sam and the Reader’s son creeps out of bed on Christmas eve and catches Santa and his mom under the mistletoe
Pairings/Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, OMC (J.D. Winchester, Sam and Reader’s son), Dean Winchester
Word Count: 1693
Warnings: Implied smut, cursing, fluff
A/N: I heard the song “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” and got this idea and it just wouldn’t leave me alone to work on the challenges that I have due and the requests I’m working on. So, here you go! An unsolicited, unplanned Christmas fic! Once again, thanks is due to the Sam to my Dean for serving as the best beta a girl could ask for.
Underneath the Mistletoe -
There was a shuffling sound coming from downstairs and J.D. sat up quickly and reached under his pillow. He pulled out the water gun that his dad had helped him fill with holy water and that his mom didn’t know he had hiding there and crept out of his room. J.D. snuck half way down the stairs before he stopped, his eyes wide and mouth gaping open. “Santa!” he whispered as quietly as he could.
Pete is six years old. She has red hair and a snaggletooth Mom promises will fall out any day now; a name she hates and a nickname she loves. She lives in the smallest house ever, but at least it’s right next door to the Countrytime Diner. Mom works there almost every day. Some days she brings home leftovers.
Pete’s favorite food is burgers, or hot dogs with mustard and lots of relish, or raspberry-swirl cheesecake. Her favorite show is Knight Rider—Mom says she’s watched it over a hundred times, but Pete knows it’s closer to two hundred. She doesn’t have a favorite song because she’s heard too many.