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Christmas Eve - Blog Posts
Merry Christmas Eve to all who celebrate!!! And Happy Holidays/Solstice to the rest!!
To my fellow pagans: It’s my first Yule and i’m so happy that there are so many supportive and lovely people out there who have given me advice! Love y’all!
P.S. Loki says hi :) 🕯️
Love is the most twisted curse of them all.
Happy Christmas Eve ^_^
IT’S CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!
It’s Christmas Eve…😢😢😢
The sugar plum fairy
Prunella or as you know her is the sugar plum fairy the only one in the North Pole with a heart of gold she flys around on Christmas Eve with Noelle to give presents and sugar plums to all the sleeping children
Noelle claus(daughter of Santa Claus & Mrs. Claus)
Noelle is the daughter of Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus growing training to take over the factory after her father while she has a lot to learn she is ready with the daughter of jack frost by her side and the sugar plum fairy near nothing can stop her
Let's do it!!!!!!!
⚠️❗️VERY IMPORTANT POST, PLEASE READ!❗️⚠️
everyone. on christmas day, december 25th, we all search up “halloween” to make it a trending search. it would be the FUNNIEST thing ever to see halloween be a trending search on christmas day. tell all your friends, repost this, do everything you can to make sure we can do this. REBLOG AS MUCH AS YOU CAN.
The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992) dir. Brian Henson
Yeah, when me and Santa bang-it-out on Christmas eve-Eve to get him hyped for Christmas Eve sometimes I put his entire beard in my mouth to feel the hairs saturate with my saliva and then I yank it back out through my teeth making sure to suck hard as I pull so it comes out mostly dry. It’s important to leave cookies for Santa because his blood sugar gets really low because he’s diabetic and if he catches you skimping out on him he’ll kill your entire family in their sleep in a post nut clarity fueled rage. Btw
⚠️❗️VERY IMPORTANT POST, PLEASE READ!❗️⚠️
everyone. on christmas day, december 25th, we all search up “halloween” to make it a trending search. it would be the FUNNIEST thing ever to see halloween be a trending search on christmas day. tell all your friends, repost this, do everything you can to make sure we can do this. REBLOG AS MUCH AS YOU CAN.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY!!!
“Your gift is here, it will be something you’ll never forget. Most people don’t realize there are troubled realms within our world, and you hold the key to their secrets. Remember, Clara, nothing is as it seems.”
I thought I’d redraw a very old post of mine from last year for the holiday season (I think you can still find the full screen version of the old one in my old acc @snowie-sparks. Just putting it out there if y’all wanna check that out). Above is the new art and below is the old one.
Below is the palette I used and its based on the Disney film “Nutcracker and the Four Realms.” I couldn’t find any palettes for this film so I went and made my own.
Hope y’all like and enjoy the palettes and art. Bye and may y’all have great days ahead!
Christmas Eve
Peaceful
But I wish you were here
All wrapped up and under the tree for me to find
Adults making the magic happen
Running around and a bit frantic
Santa feeling a tad mad and rundown
I wonder what you are doing,
Where you are,
What you look like now
The mashed potatoes are being made
Church plans are being made
Stores of toys are full of adults making a last minute raid
Do I ever cross your mind
When you walk under the mistletoe
Or has time crossed me out like a wrong answer
Dishes being washed and put away
Showers being taken
Cleanliness taking place
Do you feel like something is missing?
Peaceful but lacking
In the fragments we posses of each others hearts
Ah Christmas Eve
The time where everyone gets together and have some quality time with one another
Unless your me who like many are scrambling around buying presents
Gingerbreadbunny
My other Holiday fic!
❄️🎄❄️
The light pitter-patter of small feet on the carpeted floors is enough to tingle Harry’s senses to awaken.
That’s what being a father to a too sunny, too active, too animated, too independent three-year-old daughter does to you.
Harry feels the familiar dip of his side of the bed, lips threatening to curl up on their own as his closed eyelids can imagine the highly cute way his daughter crawls to reach his ‘sleeping’ body, her little bum wiggling upwards to reach her father’s long torso. The sign of his daughter’s success is felt through warm, small hands finding purchase on Harry’s sleep-puffed face.
“Wakey, daddy, wakey.” Harry’s daughter tries to whisper in the quiet of the cold room, little fingertips tapping her father’s cheek in earnest.
Harry acts as if he was still asleep, body rumbling in a loud snore like all those times his daughter has decided to wake his wits too early in the morning without the necessity of waking at such time. Her giggles at Harry’s ridiculous acting etches the smile on Harry’s lips that he’s been trying to hold-off, his daughter’s knowing hands squeezing his cheeks together.
“Daddy, I know you’re awake, silly.” Molly giggles, same green eyes brightening up as Harry flutters his own to look at her daughter.
Harry is known to exaggerate sometimes, but he thinks it’s only fair that he feels the air get knocked out of his system every time he gets a good look at his daughter’s face that is no doubt a mini replica of his sleeping wife’s gorgeousness. Molly might have gotten his green irises, but all other physicalities (and personality, just wait and see) is all Sophia’s down to the T.
With that being said, the faux innocent tint his daughter is giving her sleep coated eyes, is one that Harry is familiar with even before Molly was born.
“Princess, why are you awake this early?” Harry quietly rumbles, hands reaching up to fix his daughter’s sleep rumpled hair, the little girl barely allowing Harry to do so as she moves away from his hands by crawling her way up to plant herself on her father’s chest.
“Ooof,” Harry lets out in slight surprise, resting his hands to hold Molly’s little body steady on his warm chest. “Always so jumpy in the morning, you are.”
Molly only giggles at her father’s comment, little chubby arms wrapping around Harry’s neck as she perches her chin right at the top of her father’s sternum.
“Have to wake-up cause it’s the 24th daddy,” Molly explains, “Why you and mummy still sleeping?” she tilts her head in a frown, far too adorable for Harry’s tired state.
Harry bops her nose, “And how do you know it’s the 24th hm, miss smarty?”
In a tone far more exasperated than the fond look Harry is giving her, the three-year-old rumbles, “It’s in the advent calendar, daddy! Last door today, mummy said!”
“Shh.” Harry quickly tells her daughter in a gentle approach, forefinger placed on his lips that his daughter tries to copy but fails ultimately because her pouting lips are pressed on Harry’s skin. “Inside room voice please. And mummy is still sleeping so we have to be quiet, okay?”
Understanding dawns swiftly on her daughter, green eyes rounding just like her cute little mouth formed in an ‘oh’ as she looks at her mother’s sleeping form beside Harry on the bed.
“Quiet, mummy is asleep.” Molly repeats firmly to Harry, the latter dimpling that he just got slightly told-off by her daughter by doing nothing after he slightly told her off for the one being too loud.
Harry really doesn’t want to accidentally wake Sophia by their daughter’s far too early bright energy since Sophia had been a real trooper last night finishing all their unwrapped gifts. Harry prides himself in being ace at gift wrapping so Sophia and him had planned to do most of it last night in one go. What they didn’t put into consideration is their daughter’s absolute excitement to anything Christmas related, Harry needing to assist a fussing Molly last night who didn’t want to sleep because the toddler was high-strung for their Christmas Eve activities the next day.
Nine hours of sleep later (she could have had twelve if she didn’t hackle her father for three hours worth of Christmas stories, singing and cuddles), Molly is obviously invading her parents' peaceful room to exude her youthful excitement for the festive day ahead.
That makes Harry stop in realization.
“Princess, how did you know it’s the 24th today? I don’t remember mummy ever saying that to you exactly.” Harry quietly hums, brow raising at the way her daughter bites her lip at his question. “Have you woken-up extra early to practice your numbers?”
Molly is obsessed with Christmas. She has been asking her mother to assist her with her special, sugar-induced treats advent calendar because despite her persistent independent desires, Molly is not yet completely fluent with her numbers thus the dates of the month are still quite tricky for her to remember correctly. How she was able to remember that today is the 24th of December, brings high suspicious thoughts into Harry’s mind.
Molly spills out giggles from her pink lips, cheeks squishing down and nuzzling on the expanse of her father’s neck like the cuddlebug that she is. Harry only hugs her tighter to his body, gently soothing her giggles to not escalate into full-on rambunctious laughter that will wake her sleeping, pretty mummy.
When Harry gently squeezes Molly’s hips, a reminder that he’s still waiting for an answer, Molly’s grinning eyes are trained at her father before answering in full honesty.
“Went downstairs to counted the days on the advent calendar before going to mummy and daddy’s room.”
“Darling.” Harry drawls, voice trying to sound exasperated but is overthrown by the feeling of endearment at his daughter’s antics. “What do I keep on reminding you about going down the stairs by yourself?”
Molly pouts, the words uttered by her father usually proceeds to him being cross with her. “Daddy, I promise I really went carefully down. I hold with my two hands the bars of the stairs, promise, daddy.”
“Did you really?” Harry exhales, eyes shining in admiration for his daughter’s innocent words of pure sincerity.
Molly nods her head enthusiastically, little chin digging on Harry’s skin almost uncomfortably. “Yes, I super promise, daddy.”
Instead of replacing her pout back to that of her saccharine smile, Molly’s bottom lip protruded even farther, green Bambi eyes rounding in a full wounded look which got Harry alert in mere seconds. But before he can fuss over his daughter and ask what’s wrong, Molly is grumbling on his chest.
“My tum-tum was telling me it was wanting food so I went down, daddy.”
Harry’s resulting laughter now deserves that earlier reprimand of his daughter to be quiet. How can he be blamed for letting out such an obnoxious noise when his daughter’s words are not far from the way Molly’s own mother would grumble to him. Sophia is highly notorious for getting close to tears when she’s hungry, there’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that Molly’s saddened pouting face right now would escalate to that level if he doesn’t give her something to eat real soon.
“Did you eat anything then, darling? To soothe your tum-tum’s hungry calls?”
Molly shakes her head glumly, “No. Never eat breakfast with no mummy or daddy, mummy and you said.”
Harry positively coos at his daughter’s sweet words, Sophia and him instilling in Molly at a young age the importance of a family eating together when all are in the same place. Whether it’s in the kitchen at their home, daddy’s kitchen at his tour bus, or mummy’s kitchen at her nail salon. It’s a testament to Molly’s strong-willed mind that always wants to explore how far her parents would let her do things on her own, by still valuing the words they tell her.
“Aw, poor baby.” Harry coos, lips dropping to kiss his daughter’s forehead behind her messy fringe. “Did my darling wake daddy up so she can have food for her tum-tum?”
Like the true toddler that she is, Molly’s earlier display of a saddened puppy instantly shifts to that of an excited puppy at the mere mention of her father being there to provide her with food. Due to another thing contrary to his daughter’s wishes of feeding herself, she actually can’t do that if she can’t even reach the top of the kitchen counter without using one of their wooden chairs to stand on.
“Yes please, daddy.” Molly politely replies, the dents on Harry’s cheeks digging even deeper at the way he’s beaming at his daughter.
“Okay.” Harry taps her cotton bottoms clad bum, “Go wait for me near the stairs while daddy needs to get dressed before he becomes your chef.”
Molly makes a conscious effort of covering her giggling lips with the palm of her small paws, Harry shaking his head, highly endeared at his daughter who has quickly slid away from his hold on her body. Harry only realizes that Molly is actually already dressed for the day in a warm toned jumper with a silver, sparkling collar and plain, cream trousers. Gone were her favorite Frosty the Snowman pyjama set that Harry had stressed over last night after his daughter started having a tantrum when Harry told her it was still in the wash. Thank god for dryers really!
Harry’s slight lamenting for all his efforts washed away just like that is interrupted by Molly’s excited form turning back at him before making her way out to wait near their stairs.
“Daddy,” Molly says in a loud whisper, “wear a jumper cause mummy said it’s going to be super coldest today.”
Harry chuckles lightly, “How cold did mummy say it was going to be today, darling?”
Molly wraps her small arms around her own form, acting like she was shivering, “The super coldest!”
If only Sophia and Harry weren’t against the idea of having their daughter star in ad campaigns at such a young age, Harry’s pretty sure Molly’s charisma and adorable acts would have garnered them a hefty paycheck, enough to have bought all her Christmas gifts this year.
“Well in that case, daddy should bundle-up and listen to mummy, huh? The same way you little miss should be listening to daddy’s instructions earlier. No food for the tum-tum if cuddlebug isn’t careful.”
That etches a serious aura on Molly’s face like a determined little puppy, “Cuddlebug would be careful, daddy.” she says in full determination before making a show of slowly walking out of her parents room. That leaves Harry giggling to himself while fetching his equally warm clothing in their closet.
Having learned how to dress up quickly not only for hectic tours and Gucci fashions shows, but that too of being freshly out the shower and your daughter is already wailing for your attention, Harry easily finishes getting ready for the day in just under five minutes. The man smiled approvingly at his daughter who was waiting patiently at one of the single couches in the upstairs living room area by the stairway, the couch big enough to look like it was swallowing her small form.
“Look who’s being a good girl early this morning.” Harry says, offering his hand for Molly to take. “Such a patient girl, princess. I think you’re definitely going to get your pressies from Santa tomorrow.”
Molly gives him a toothy smile, preening at her father’s words while accepting his help of getting down from the large single couch. “You think so, daddy?”
Harry easily picks up his toddler to carry down the stairs, the little girl’s one arm snaked behind his neck while the other rests on his cheek waiting for an answer with her green doe-like eyes exhibiting intense anticipation.
“Daddy really thinks so, princess. You’ve been really good and helpful to mummy while daddy was away so I’m sure that Father Christmas will know that too.”
“How he know?” Molly quirks a confused brow as Harry takes the two of them to their kitchen. “You talk to Santa, daddy?”
“Not really because I don’t need to. Santa sees everything, remember?” Harry says while carefully depositing Molly on the surface of the marbled kitchen counter.
Something in his last words spiked a current of sheer joy on Molly’s face, the latter quickly wobbling to stand on her feet on the kitchen counter allowing Harry to assist her excited frame as to not to fall on the floor and cause her father a heart attack.
Despite being Sophia’s daughter through and through, Molly is still Harry’s daughter as well. Greatly exemplified when said daughter suddenly begins singing a classic Christmas tune all animatedly, with her small body bopping this way and that.
“He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake!” Molly all but belts in her high-pitched voice, “He knows when you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!”
There’s nothing that gets Harry the most than seeing his daughter singing her heart out, easily getting tranced to join along the fun as they sing the chorus together, Harry’s arms gently swaying along Molly’s in a little happy dance.
“So! You better watch out, you better not cry. You better not pout, I’m telling you why. Santa Clause is coming to town!”
The two finish in absolute flourish, Molly’s ear-piercing screech hitting the last note of the song perfectly in Harry’s opinion. They both dissolve into rambunctious laughter after their singing moment, Harry’s heart growing triple its size at how unbelievably amazing his daughter is.
Harry drops a kiss to Molly’s grinning cheek, “I think that wonderful singing has made my princess more hungry, huh? Don’t worry, daddy’s going to give you a smoothie first before I start baking our brekkie.”
Harry misses the pout that formed on his daughter’s lips, back already facing her while getting some lime and spinach in the fridge, only to be interrupted by his daughter’s whine.
“Daddy! No green stuffies, please!”
Harry faces his daughter with his mouth ajar, “What do you mean no green stuffies? You love daddy’s smoothies, love.”
Molly shakes her head furiously, “Nu-uh, green smoothies are yucky!”
Harry actually gasps at the disgusted face his daughter is sporting, “Since when did my smoothies become yucky to you?”
“Mummy said eewiee last time you maked us smoothies so I say eewiee too.” Molly replies like it was a no brainer and Harry’s amused to say the least.
He should have seen it coming with the way most things about his daughter are slowly unfolding to be like the traits of her mother every day that she grows-up. Sophia’s aversion to green vegetables and fruits were put into a hold after the two of them have discussed that it was important that Molly would learn to love healthy foods and drinks at an early age. Harry’s quite certain that Sophia didn’t mean for their daughter to hear her disgusted comment about his smoothie since she’s been the best mother by being a good example to Molly and gulping her own pains away with Harry’s green smoothies every time he makes them.
But of course, their daughter had to be an attentive one and all Sophia’s efforts are put to waste at their daughter’s incessant look of displeasure after seeing Harry holding the green ingredients this morning.
“Don’t wanna green stuffies, daddy.” Molly pouts further, “Tum-tum don’t likey.”
Harry sighs, “What are you going to eat then, darling? Daddy’s still going to bake our brekkie and that would take awhile.”
Molly’s grin springs back to her face in an instant, it’s tone far too devious for a toddler which makes Harry quite apprehensive of what she’s about to say.
“May I please go to the pantry and I find snacks to eat while you bake brekkie, daddy?”
Molly asks the question so innocently, Harry not seeing the harm of agreeing especially with how polite she had asked for his permission.
“Alright.” Harry relents, acting exasperated at his daughter’s cheerful face. “You may go to the pantry and pick a snack. But please, pick something healthy, love. And please eat it at the dining table where I can see you, okay?”
His daughter nods her head enthusiastically, “Yes, daddy.” puckering her lips to land a kiss on Harry’s chin before quickly asking for help to be brought down to the floor.
Harry shakes his head in amusement once again as he easily carries Molly’s lithe body from the kitchen counter down to the heated floors, the little girl scurrying away to the door of their pantry before Harry can even tell her to be careful with her steps.
Like her mother, Molly has grown-up to love snacking at any moment the hunger for it strikes. Being the independent bee that she is, Sophia had decided it was only wise to get Harry to make their daughter a stepping stool that can be used for the pantry so that the little girl could go and get her snacks by herself after informing the two of them where she’s going.
Harry had been hesitant of the idea at first, scary thoughts of his baby girl loosing her footing on the stepping stool and falling on the ground without them near had plagued his mind. Those negative thoughts were quickly diminished when Sophia had ordered online a kit for the stepping stool, Molly’s eager aurora excitedly asking her father to assemble it for her, small hand not only tugging on his bigger palm but that too of his heart strings, was enough to get him to agree.
And now he isn’t regretting the decision. Harry makes the most out of the silent reprieve his daughter has given him by getting the dough that he chilled last night together with some butter, sugar, and flour from the cupboards all for the cinnamon rolls he’s going to be baking for their Christmas Eve breakfast.
Harry’s sweet tooth of a wife had actually been the one that had requested for this specific dish, and who was Harry to deny her kind wish when it was the season of giving after all. Besides, Sophia deserves some doting love from him after being the best mum in the world this past year with him being away from tour, or with Sophia being also his mum on tour when they were in the city where Harry was set to perform.
Harry wants to make this a special and delicious breakfast for his wife and daughter that he actually doesn’t notice what Molly is eating, just content seeing the flurry of her crazy-messy hair as she busies herself in the dining table while Harry begins to roll out the dough he proofed last night.
After rolling out the dough to be thin and wide enough for his liking, Harry’s focus was shifted to making sure he’s brushing equal amounts of butter on every surface of the dough as well as the brown sugar and cinnamon mixture he’s sprinkling is also of equal parts.
Too focused on the art of baking for his girls, Harry does not notice his wife coming down the stairs in all her sleep-rumpled glory, all cozily dressed-up and warm for the winter weather.
“Mind if I join the two of you here?” Sophia’s sweet voice breaks Harry’s engrossed state as he watches his wife almost glide to the kitchen towards them. Such a graceful creature that one.
It should have been a tell-tale sign when Molly didn’t even acknowledge the presence of her mother despite always worshiping the floor she walks on, wanting to be Sophia’s little version every single day. But one thing the married couple has learned after having their first child, is to value every second of child-less time that God gives them. So can you really blame the two when they went straight to each other in a tight embrace, lips locking in a sweet morning kiss.
“Good morning, my sunflower.” Harry dimples at his smiling wife, “I’d really want to cradle your face and kiss you so tenderly but my hands are sticky with sugar and cinnamon.”
Sophia coos at Harry’s pout, “It’s okay bunny, I’d just be the one to hold your face and kiss you good morning so tenderly.” Cupping Harry’s giggling face on the small of her palm, Sophia raises on her tiptoes to entangle their lips together in a loving kiss.
“Mummy! My kissies too!”
And that’s why you grab every opportunity you have to be able to snog your wife peacefully.
Harry and Sophia both sighed in each other's lips, more endeared than exasperated really, just like for everything else their daughter does.
Sophia turns her head towards Molly at the dining table, “Of course, my love. How can mummy forget my kissies for you?”
Their daughter shrugs, infamous pout forming once again, “I don’t know. Mummy should not forgetting to share daddy’s kissie with me too.”
Both Harry and Sophia let out surprise laughter at Molly’s clear admission of childish jealousy regarding Harry’s kisses. He should have known that a jealous mother would also mean a jealous daughter. Come to think of it, it’s not the first time Molly has interrupted their holiday smooches, only this time there weren’t any tiny hands pushing their heads away from each other.
“Oh, how unkind of mummy for not sharing daddy’s kissies with you, baby?” Sophia humors their daughter. “Why don’t you come here with us darling and give daddy amazing kisses and I go fix your messy hair while you’re at it with your father’s affection.”
Molly smiles, adorable baby teeth showing. And that’s when they see it.
“Molly!” Harry gasps together with Sophia, “What have you been eating, young lady?”
Molly shuts her toothy grin in an instant, features flushing in muted pink at being caught. She doesn’t reply to her father, so Harry has no choice but to follow his wife whose hand he’s holding, drags him to the dining table.
“What is this?” Sophia asks, gesturing incredulously at the plate of ‘snacks’ Molly had chosen from the pantry.
One of Sophia’s dainty white and gold plate sets that’s perfectly arranged for tonight’s roast dinner, is filled with mini Lindt chocolate bears, its classic gold wrapper with the touches of red, blue, and green all fit for the holiday outfits the adorable bears are wearing.
Seeing that her parents are more fond rather than cross (unfortunately) at her, Molly doesn’t cower away in the fear of getting scolded and instead gives her parents another toothy grin, evidence of her early sweet treat visible.
“They’re choccys, mummy.” Molly answers, so angelic-like it makes Harry believe Sophia and him are doomed when Molly becomes a teenager and get away with every single devious thing she’ll do because her parents are utter suckers for her precious face.
“I can see that they are choccys, darling.” Sophia confirms, head turning to Harry with a curved brow. “Now I don’t understand why your daddy let you eat some this early.”
Harry’s brows furrow, bottom lip sticking out just a little bit because it feels like the scolding will be directed at him unlawfully. “Sunflower, I told our little princess to get a healthy snack. Didn’t I, love?”
Molly might charm her way to get past her cheeky antics but one thing that she can’t do is lie straight to her parent’s faces, another thing she’s inherited from Sophia who can’t lie (even for a surprise for her husband) for the life of her. That trait goes in favor for Harry most of the time, easily getting the answers from Sophia when it’s date night and she had planned for them a surprise. Sophia can’t even last a whole five minutes in their ride and she’s already spilling the beans to Harry.
“Yes.” Molly pouts, nodding her head dejectedly. “Daddy said healthy snack before brekkie but I gotten choccys instead, sorry mummy and daddy.”
Molly makes grabby hands for either of her parents to pick her up, Sophia being the nearest one extending her arm to raise her daughter up and hold her tights to her chest. Molly quickly presses her soft baby lips on her mother’s in a kiss filled with apology, little head tilting at the side to reach for her father with her lips remained pursed. Harry coos, bending a little to meet his daughter half-way through, Molly smacking an equally apologetic kiss to his lips.
“It’s alright baby,” Harry promises quietly, “You’re forgiven, mummy and daddy aren’t cross with you.”
Sophia hums the same sentiment, giving her daughter a soft smile, “Daddy’s right, we’re not going to get mad at you if you’re so kind for being honest and apologizing right away. Look who’s in the nice list of Father Christmas?”
That brings the grin on Molly’s face back, giggling almost bashfully at her mother’s praise. “Sure mummy? Santa didn’t putted me in the naughty list cause I eated choccys for brekkie snack?”
“Yes, mummy’s sure baby. Remember, Santa has eyes everywhere, yeah?”
Both Harry and Molly lock gazes at that, mirth swimming in their green irises causing a frown of wary to etch on Sophia’s face.
“Uh-oh, why are you two looking at each other like that?”
Instead of replying, the father and daughter turned into the amazing singing duo that they are, breaking into the same Christmas song number from earlier. This time around, they’ve placed Sophia in the middle of their little dance routine, Harry and Molly showing Sophia how to properly shimmy her shoulders and bop her bum and hips like they’re back on tour once again.
It doesn't take long before Sophia and Molly tap out from tiredness, Harry giggles on his hands at the rather adorable flushed faces of his girls, bodies bent with their hands placed on their respective knees catching their breath like they’ve just ran a marathon. It’s yet another trait Molly got from her mother, getting easily physically exhausted and then pouting up at Harry asking for ‘cool down cuddles’.
On any regular day, Harry would have instantly jumped at the opportunity of getting to smother his two tired girls in his snuggles. But today’s Christmas Eve, he’s not going to let them have shitty breakfast just because they’re all too clingy and need attention, that’s really the bottomline of it, isn’t it?
Hence, Harry musters the bravest face he can make, one that can resist the double-trouble of his wife and daughter’s identical puppy eyes and pleading pouts (a hundred times more fucking difficult than anyone can ever imagine), asking Sophia to help Molly freshen-up and erase any traces of chocolate on her face. Despite Sophia’s resistance, she agrees minutes later upon remembering the bird nest state of her daughter’s hair, and the promise of freshly baked cinnamon rolls once they arrive back.
Harry promptly returns to work once Molly and Sophia have left hand-in-hand up the staircase once more.
One who absolutely loves cooking for his girls, Harry expertly cuts and rolls the cinnamon buns and is placed perfectly in a large baking dish in no time. It still does have to be baked though, so Sophia and Molly arrive back in the kitchen with the growing aromas of sugar mixed with spicy notes from the cinnamon, inhibiting the entire room.
“Oohh, smells yummy.” Sophia observes, nose visibly raising in attention to waft the heavenly scent.
Molly, who’s in her mother’s arms with her hair fixed into little adorable spacebuns, copies her mother with ease, eyes closing all lovely, “Oohh, smells yummy!”
The two adults share a laugh at their daughter’s undeniable cuteness, amusement unceasing when the cinnamon rolls have baked with Molly physically sitting on her own tiny hands to prevent from taking a bite of her own roll after Harry had served them with it at the dining table. Both Sophia and Harry have told their daughter about five times (in the span of two minutes) not to eat it yet for it’s still piping hot after being taken out fresh from their oven.
Harry would like to think that as much as Sophia is on his side for their daughter’s safety, he’s pretty sure Sophia is also at the edge of her seat, waiting for the go signal from Harry when it’s already alright to eat their sweet breakfast without anyone burning their tongues.
After all, the two do love their sweet food. Harry shares the same observation at the table once Sophia and Molly have dived straight into their own cinnamon rolls, forgetting about knives and forks unlike Harry.
“I mean, I like sweet food.” Sophia answers Harry's comment, “But I don’t know if I love it, per say.” and then proceeds to lick her fingers clean from the sugary icing Harry had poured earlier.
Harry raises an incredulous eyebrow at that, Sophia huffing with an eye-roll at her husband’s smirk.
“Okay, I love sweet food then,” Sophia relents, “but I don’t like sweet breakfast all the time. Like, I also want some savory food in the morning on some days.”
Harry snorts, “Since when? I’m pretty sure our baby girl was eating chocolate bears earlier because she got that from you, like all things really.” and he gives Sophia his own set of eye-rolls, the underneath tone of bitterness in his voice is not lost in Sophia’s ears.
Sophia cackles, “That’s so not true.”
At the same time, Molly perks-up after hearing the magical word, “Choccy bears?” she asks in excitement, mouth messy with white icing and crumbs of sugar and cinnamon making the spouses giggle at their daughter’s messy nature.
Harry reaches forward to wipe his daughter clean, chuckling when Molly cranes her little neck to catch Harry’s thumb on her mouth to eat the sweet mess. Honestly, if anyone didn’t know any better, they’d probably think Harry is starving his daughter from the way she absolutely lights up after savoring those little granules of sweet food.
“Yeah, choccy bears,” Harry muses with a grin at his daughter, “darling, don’t you just love choccy bears cause mummy loves choccy bears?”
That makes Molly beam, all toothy and sticky hands clapping in glee, “Yes! Mummy loves choccy bears so I maded sure I love it too!”
The smug look Harry offers Sophia after that, is enough to convey the ‘I told you so!’ without needing to say it verbally. Sophia just pouts at her husband, brows meeting in the middle.
“Well mummy has a sweet tooth, so what can she do?” Sophia shrugs before turning to give Harry a fleeting look, baby blues looking too devious for Harry’s liking which all of a sudden disappears to give Molly an excited beam.
“But good thing daddy does quite well with helping us with our sweet cravings, yeah princess?”
Molly nods eagerly at her mother before turning to Harry with a lovely smile, “Yup! Daddy loves giving mummy and Molly with sweet treats, love daddy a bunch for gotted us choccy food all the time!”
Harry just absolutely preens at his daughter’s love-oozing words, “Aww, I love you too, princess. There isn’t anything daddy won’t do to get you and mummy what you like.”
“That’s why we love you,” Sophia says, devious baby blues back on a locked gaze with Harry’s own curious ones, “Always doing your best to give what Molly and I want or need. It’s a good thing you’re also down to help Molly make gingerbread cookies later because we’ve been craving for some since the start of the month.”
Molly actually screeches on her seat at the mention of that, fisted hands banging on the table ardently. “YES! Daddy and I bake gingerbread men NOW!”
In turn, Harry actually groans on his seat with Sophia cackling in laughter and Molly continually exclaiming the need for Harry and her to start baking already, the toddler far too keen already after talking Harry’s ear off about baking gingerbread cookies together ever since last night. And yes, it’s mainly the reason why his daughter didn’t want to have her kip last night.
This lot mainly stemmed from Sophia’s love for watching the Hallmark Christmas movies once the start of the holiday season has arrived from around the corner. Molly, being the studious girl that she is in wanting to be the best mini version of her mother, had also taken a liking to these films as mother and daughter tandem made a routine of watching a film or two a day to get their Christmas spirits going.
Most of the Hallmark films that Sophia has taped in their telly, revolved around some sort of Christmas baking with a love story entangled in it in some cheesy way. Molly, being a child who doesn’t really care about kissing under the mistletoe or awkward fumbling in the skate rink that turns to cliché falling on the ice and accidentally kissing, has focused her keen attention on all the baking of sweet treats in the movies.
As much as Harry is thankful that his daughter is not yet at the age of thinking that any boy would be much suited at taking care and loving her compared to her father, Harry is also placed in an unfavorable position after his daughter had pleaded with him that they too bake in the holidays like those people in the films.
Sophia’s a decent cook but she’s absolute crap in the field of baking, so it was clever of their daughter to direct her widened eyes and fluttering lashes at her daddy who on a normal day can’t resist giving in to that look.
What happens when it’s given to him during Christmas time?
Harry absolutely stumbles on his feet to teach his daughter how to make gingerbread cookies, that’s what happens.
That statement is also conveyed in literal terms, like Harry is literally stumbling on his own two feet from the amount of flour his daughter is placing in their dry ingredients bowl, so much that it’s also spilling on the kitchen floor causing Harry’s clumsiness to come into action.
“Alright, I think that’s enough, baby.” Harry says, hands coming up to wave off the puffs of flour floating in the air. He stands closer to his daughter who’s standing securely on one of their dining chairs, head raised to look at Harry in clear concentration, an extremely adorable look that Harry can’t help but giggle at.
“What’s next, daddy?” Molly eagerly asks.
“Now we have to add the remaining dry ingredients, like the salt, baking soda, and all our spices.”
To prevent more spillage, Harry takes it upon himself to tell Molly to wait (a hardship on its own that would take a lot of time to share how) while he measures into little cups all the other dry ingredients so all that his messy daughter gotta do is to dump its contents on their big bowl in an easy, and way cleaner manner.
Harry learns quite quickly that there’s nothing easy with teaching a toddler how to bake. Molly’s pudgy tiny fingers dipping on every measured cup, tongue poking out in disgust after having a taste of pure powdered cinnamon, clove, all spice, and ginger, all of which Harry had told her not to put directly in her mouth.
“That’s so yucky!” Molly grumbles, “Why we putted that in our gingerbread men, daddy?”
Harry shakes his head at his daughter’s cluelessness, filling a glass of water for Molly to drink to wash out the unpleasant symphony of spices in her pink tongue. Harry finds her amusing because he’ll never forget how Sophia did the exact same thing, and asked the exact same questions when they first baked gingerbread cookies together way back when their daughter wasn’t even born yet. Harry just hopes that Molly has a far better future in the baking scene than her mother.
“It won’t taste horrible later, princess, I promise.” Harry replies, accepting the empty glass from his daughter’s careful hands. “It just doesn’t taste good right now because it’s not cooked yet. Once it’s all mixed with our wet ingredients, we’ve rolled the dough and cut our gingerbread men, it’s going to taste really yummy once it’s done baking in the oven.”
His daughter only hums in acknowledgement at that, her attention span of being a toddler is quickly transferred to the pink KitchenAid mixer that Harry has just placed in the kitchen counter.
“I like the color pink.” Molly points out the electronic mixer.
“Why’s that?” Harry humors her despite knowing the answer just like he knows the sun will come down later and it will rise again tomorrow.
“Because mummy likes pink, so I like pink too.”
And how can Harry forget about that? His bloody nails are painted pink right now because Sophia seems to have a collection of all the shades of pink found in the spectrum of colors in the form of nail polishes. At the same time, he still lets out a shudder from the pointed glares that Sophia had given him for all the red outfits he wore at tour.
Harry proceeds to slowly instruct Molly about the wet ingredients that she needs to pour in a separate bowl. This time, he doesn’t bother warning Molly not to taste the sugar or molasses, but does place a foot forward when his daughter all out gobbles a cube of butter, buttery fingers trying to reach for another one which Harry intercepts easily.
“No more butter for you, missy.” Harry chuckles at Molly’s disgruntled face, traces of butter smeared on her lips, “Or we won’t have any cookies if your tum-tum eats them all.” Harry then tickles her pudgy stomach causing Molly to shriek in laughter.
In no time, Harry’s strong arms are guiding Molly’s smaller ones in combining both the dry ingredients with the wet ones, Molly’s fascinated eyes trained on the whirling motion of the mixer as it combines all the components of the gingerbread cookie into a warm brown colored dough.
“Wow.” Molly awes as Harry scoops the dough from the bowl, molding it a bit with his practiced hands before wrapping it in clingwrap.
“That’s cool, huh?” Harry dimples at his engrossed daughter. “Now we just have to wait and put it in the fridge to chill for an hour.”
His daughter’s enchanted expression of seeing their creation turn into a dough for her gingerbread men is quickly replaced by a petulant pout.
“Why?” Molly asks in a tone of pure protest, “Why put in the fridge, daddy? I thought we going to maded it now?”
Harry, having the sixth sense for a Christmas-obsessed toddler tantrum, makes his way to the fridge and swaps the dough they just made to one that he made from last night.
“Ta-da!” Harry showcases the chilled dough to his daughter animatedly, the green eyed girl covering her mouth in a gasp of surprise.
“Oh my.” Molly mutters when Harry begins to sprinkle the surface of the kitchen counter with flour, rolling out the batch of dough he prepared last night.
“Amazing right? I knew your little impatient bum couldn’t wait to get your gingerbread men assembled.”
Molly doesn’t reply from her father’s rib at her character. Either because she’s a child who can’t detect teasing that well, or because she’s precisely like her mummy who doesn’t take a damn from Harry whenever he calls out Sophia’s own impatient whining. Harry has his bets on the latter option of why Molly just ignores his words in favor of excitedly arranging the assortment of gingerbread man cookie cutters he bought specifically for her as an early Christmas present.
“Alright,” Harry claps his hands free from any excess flour after successfully rolling out the dough in the perfect thinness he was hoping to achieve, “daddy is going to show you how to cut out one gingerbread man, and you princess can do the rest after.”
Molly wordlessly hands Harry one of the cookie cutters, eyes glued solely on the slow motions of her daddy’s hands as he flours the cookie cutter before placing it in the dough.
“Now you have to press it hard, like this.” Harry tells her, pushing on his palms quite exaggeratedly with his face frowning in the faux strenuous activity just to hear his daughter’s amused giggles. “No giggling here darling. You have to put all your big girl strength in cutting these cookies or else there won’t be any cookies to eat.”
“No way!” Molly protests easily, “Have to get the gingerbread men cutted cause it looks so good in the telly that mummy and I watch.”
“Well here you go then,” Harry says, offering the jar of flour for Molly to take some for her cookie cutters, “cut away, my fine baking apprentice!”
Once again, Molly doesn’t pay attention to anything he said, just proceeds to copy her father’s earlier actions, little tongue poking out all cute in concentration as she presses hard on the cookie cutter to make sure it makes a dent on the dough.
Harry watches the scene unfold with unbridled pride blooming in his chest, attention lasered on every minute changes in Molly’s features that the second a small frown begins to form on her forehead, Harry is straightaway ready to ask what’s wrong.
“Why the gingerbread men have no heart, daddy?” Molly replies with a frown.
The question catches Harry off-guard. “What do you mean, darling?”
Molly sighs, “A heart, daddy!” she exclaims like Harry doesn’t know his basic anatomy. “Mummy said every living creature on earth has gotted a heart. That’s why we have to be kind to everyone even if they are meanies cause they also have heart and I can’t breaked other’s heart, daddy. Have to be kind, always, mummy and you said.”
Harry and Sophia have properly taught their daughter the vital importance of being kind in this world no matter the circumstance. What they should probably think of teaching Molly is how to not go melting people’s hearts from how wonderful and precious she is!
“So you also want to give your gingerbread men a heart, baby?” Harry coos, eyes probably formed into its own heart slits.
Molly nods, pink lips curved upwards, “Yes, daddy! Heart for my gingerbread men too cause people have gotted to be kind with them, too.”
Harry’s endeared to say the least, needing no other prompt to get their heart shaped cookie cutters for his daughter to use. “And we can’t go having people being mean with your gingerbread men cookies, yeah?”
“Yeah!” Molly affirms brightly, hands planting themselves on her hips with her eyes narrowing. “Don’t like meanies hurting my gingerbread men, but I still be kind if they do cause mummy said I be the bigger person.”
Harry tries to cover the laugh trying to escape from his mouth at the look of utter danger in his daughter’s green pools. “And you are the bigger person, princess. Look at you, you’re almost as tall as daddy!”
Harry’s poor attempt at joking results in an unimpressed pout on Molly’s lips, whining, “Daddy! That’s not funny.”
Harry wants to feel offended at Molly’s unpleasant words against his humor if only he didn’t know already that once again, his daughter takes on her mother for not being quite fond of Harry’s love to jest around. Oftentimes, the two girls are the first to groan at Harry’s dad jokes every time there’s company at home to entertain. Harry could say he might be annoyed, but he really isn’t when he knows deep down, Sophia and Molly would not have him in any other way despite their matching contempt every time he says, ‘knock, knock..’
The pair return to cutting their gingerbread cookies, Harry helping Molly to get the heart cookie cutter in the middle of each gingerbread man. Harry even made sure that the heart cookie cutters they’re using are all of the same size since Molly had given him a stink eye when he said some of them might be smaller than others.
“Daddy! All have same big heart, no small hearts!”
Harry prefers not to get berated by a toddler with a lot of sugar in her system, so he just follows along as he gently transfers each perfectly cut gingerbread man - with BIG hearts - on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.
Molly knows that neither of her parents allow her to be anywhere near any heat source which enables her to not start-up a fight when Harry proceeds to put the baking sheet in the pre-heated oven by himself.
“Want to go watch with mummy in the living room while daddy cleans up here?” Harry bends down to his daughter’s level to ask.
Molly shakes her head. “No. I have to help daddy to cleaned the messy in the kitchen.”
“Of course,” Harry smiles with a knowing glint in his eyes, “Mummy doesn’t like messy too, huh?”
Molly nods her head this time, a little smirk forming on her lips that makes Harry shiver internally on how in the world can she already look this devious when she wants to be at such a young age.
“Yeah, mummy doesn’t like messy.” Molly repeats, shaking her head. “That’s why mummy doesn’t like your studio, daddy!”
“Heyy..” Harry pouts at his giggling daughter of a traitor who’s exposing the current disarray state of his at-home studio, “That’s not true, love. It’s only messy right now because I let you color your Frosty the Snowman and Santa books there while I’m recording my songs for the new album.”
“Not true!” Molly declares, “Daddy’s studio is always messy!”
His little three-year-old should have thought better before saying that.
If she did, Harry would not be chasing her around in their messy kitchen with the promise of tickling her until she laughs so loudly like Father Christmas. It’s no surprise though that Harry catches Molly in his arms not even a full five minutes later, the child flushed tired in his arms once more making Harry embody the Christmas spirit of peace and decides not to go ahead with his tickling spree.
They’re in the middle of actually cleaning the kitchen counter when Molly does catch Harry in surprise.
Harry was now sitting on the chair Molly was using earlier as a stepping stool to reach the top of the kitchen counter, his daughter sitting comfortably on his lap, face nuzzled into the warmth of his neck, Harry’s own arms wrapped around Molly’s little frame hugging her tight in his embrace.
“Daddy?” Molly whispers into the skin of where his shoulder meets his neck.
“Hm?” Harry hums, hands gently running up and down Molly’s spine in an act to relax his surely tired daughter from all their baking and running about.
“May I please give mummy the first piece of our gingerbread men cookies that we maked? I love mummy a bunch of tons so I want her to gotted the first one.”
Molly Styles might be the exact replica of Sophia from the top of her head until the ends of her tiptoes, personalities and traits might also be a carbon copy despite her young age.
But one thing that Harry is dead-on sure that Molly got from him, is something so special that he doesn’t give a fuck if it’s the only thing his daughter got from his gene (the green eyes too, thanks).
Molly loves her mummy just the same as Harry loves his wife.
They give Sophia the same love, care and adoration that she deserves, Harry’s definitely happy to know and that it’s something he’s proud to say Molly got from him.
Molly wants to give Sophia the first piece of the gingerbread cookies Harry and her made just the same as Harry would make sure his wife gets the first serving of food in any Christmas party held under his honor.
Molly would wait patiently for her mummy’s reaction upon taking the first bite of the holiday cookie just like Harry who waited for Sophia’s reaction to the Christmas ornaments he got from every state he visited in the US during his last tour. Both father and daughter need that smile of approval from the woman they love to function properly afterwards.
Despite being a lover of sweet treats herself, Molly would only give half of her attention on the gingerbread cookie she’s eating, the remaining half is trained on her mother, waiting if she needs a drink before ordering her daddy to make mummy her special Christmas hot cocoa with extra marshmallows at the top.
Similarly, Harry would only give his favorite Christmas film ‘Love Actually’ half of his mind while the rest is focused on his wife who’s decorating their home all festive and cozy for Christmas time, always on high alert if she needs a hand on something.
After having enough taste on the gingerbread cookies, Molly would gladly cuddle her mummy in her small but insanely powerfully huggable arms, knowing full well how much Sophia loves a good warm snuggle with every food coma she nurses. Sophia’s tired state from last night had also garnered similar results, Harry welcoming his tired wife from all the gift wrapping she had done, her entire body going pliant in Harry’s strong hold as he oozes all the love and appreciation he has for her in that simple body contact.
The Christmas-obsessed Molly would even disregard all the fun holiday activities she has in mind just to show her mummy how much she loves spending time with her and doing barely anything. The little girl would no doubt agree to Sophia’s request of cuddling all day of Christmas Eve in the couch watching more Hallmark Christmas films or the Grinch once Harry gets bored of all the soppiness.
In the same regard, Harry would gladly politely decline any offers his friends have to join them for some Christmas party at some high-class pub or even a shopping trip to a fancy Christmas market, all in favor of joining Molly in loving up Sophia with her favorite hugs and kisses.
Harry and Molly’s love for the woman truly has no bounds, would happily do the same thing again come dinner time with Molly letting her mummy have the first bite of the Christmas roast, attentive eyes waiting for the signal to get her daddy to make mummy the ‘Christmas special drink for mummy and daddy only’ aka: mulled wine.
Harry wouldn’t even mind if that was the case, he’ll most likely even volunteer to start the cuddle fest himself after their Christmas Eve dinner. Arms wide open for his girls with Molly helping him make sure mummy is snuggled tightly with the thick, knitted blanket they got from Nanny Anne. It wouldn’t be a secret if the two indulge Sophia with another Christmas movie at night time, maybe one of the Princess Switch movies or Elf once Harry gets confused on why there are two Vanessa Hudgens that suddenly turn into three come the next movies.
All in all, when Christmas morning comes, Harry is confident that Molly and him love Sophia wholly and just the same by letting her have the first go at the pressies under their fabulously decorated Christmas tree.
Never mind the fact that Molly is a three-year-old toddler who’s been waiting for Santa’s gifts ever since the start of the ber-months, or that Harry is a 27-year old man who still outshines her daughter by opening more gifts than her in under a minute because he’s definitely still very much in-touch with his inner child once the holiday season strikes.
All of those Harry and Molly can disregard and throw the notion outside the door and into the snowing England pavements.
All in the name of their shared love and gratitude for Sophia.
“Yes.” Harry simply replies to his daughter, the two’s features slowly brewing in identical grins despite their clear differences in looks. “We can give mummy anything we want this Christmas Eve because we love her.”
“YES!” Molly cheers far too brightly for something so simple and so innate to them, “We love on mummy on Christmas Eve!”
And pretty much any other day of any other week of any other fucking year, they’d love on Sophia as much as they want.
This Christmas Eve is no exception.