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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years ago

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Hey my family out the Christmas decorations up today and it made me think of a cute little request for roosters brood? Like one where the kids tell the squad that they say mommy kissing Santa thought it would just be funny and cute 🥰

Aww that is super cute! I’m totally getting into the holiday spirit despite it being my busiest season, work-wise 😫 Hope you like this little drabble which may or may not have somehow turned into a Hannix thing.. I don't even know haha I've just been in a Jake mood lately 😅

The Secret

Rooster x Wife!Reader

Summary: One of your children confides in Hangman after he sees you locking lips with Ol' Saint Nick.

CW: just a tiny drabble, fluff, Christmas, kids, hints of Hannix

WC: 400+

“Guess what?” you hear your son say excitedly as he pulls on Jake’s pantleg while the latter is hanging a string of lights above your window.

“Chicken butt,” Jake responds without looking down.

“No!” Your son cackles. “I have a secret!”

Jake glances at him with a smirk. “Let me guess,” he says. “You’re not planning on keeping it.”

“Keeping what?” the boy asks in confusion.

Jake’s grin widens and he steps down from the stool to sit on it instead. He leans forward and gives your son his undivided attention. “Alright, go ahead.”

Your son brings his face to Jake’s ear and starts saying something when Jake jerks away from him. “Buddy!” he exclaims. “When you’re talking into my ear, whisper. You’re gonna burst my damn eardrum.”

“Bagman!” Phoenix tosses a garland at his back. “Language.”

“Phoenix!” he responds, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Can you save the violence for when we’re alone?”

Natasha’s eyes widen and her mouth curves into an outraged grin. She goes back to her poinsettia arrangement in silence.

Jake returns his attention to your son, who starts whispering feverishly into his ear.

“Oh, really?” Jake says, his mouth stretching into a wide smirk. He glances up at you with a roguish smile.

“You can’t tell daddy,” your son warns.

Jake nods, still watching you. “I agree.”

…

“What was that about?” you ask Jake later that evening after Bradley goes to put the kids to bed.

Jake turns to you with a laugh. “Apparently, you’re on the naughty list.”

“What?”

“Little Pete –”

“It was Nick,” Natasha interrupts Jake, rolling her eyes.

“Whatever, they’re practically the same person.” Jake waves his hand. “Little Nick saw mommy kissing Santa Clause.”

You clap a hand over your mouth, gasping. “Oh no!”

“What happened?” Bradley asks, coming down the stairs.

“Bradley was trying on the new Santa costume he bought,” you say with a slight whine. “I can’t believe they saw us!”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Natasha muses. “Finding out that Santa isn’t real or thinking that your mom’s having an affair with old Saint Nick.”

You cringe. “Both are terrible!”

Bradley makes a face. “Someone saw us?”

Jake nods. “Yeah, Pete –”

“Nick,” Natasha corrects him again.

Jake sighs in exasperation. “How can you even tell them apart?”

Natasha shrugs. “Pete is shorter.”

Bradley chuckles, taking you by the waist and kissing your cheek. “Don’t worry, darling,” he mutters. “We’ll just tell the kids that Santa kisses everybody.”

Jake glances at the two of you sourly and then reaches over to take Natasha by the arm. He pulls her toward him possessively. “As long as Santa doesn’t demonstrate it,” he comments with a grimace.

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callsign-venus · 1 year ago

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I'll Be Home for Christmas | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Description: With Bradley on deployment, you don't find the Christmas season as cheery as usual. The Daggers make it their mission to help you get into the holiday spirit. Cue intensely competitive gingerbread house decorating competition.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Fluff with a teeny dash of angst. Drinking. That’s pretty much it. Really just self-indulgent, friendship-heavy fluff with lots of pining. Enjoy x

Nat King Cole’s voice dances out of your record player has you put the finishing touches on your cranberry Aperol spritzes. Their cherry warm color makes you smile despite yourself.

You have always loved Christmas, but this year it hits you like a truck – and not even one with a tree strapped on top. All the little traditions that usually warm your heart with holiday cheer feel just plain sad to do alone. You had a tremendous battle with your artificial tree, which fell on you twice. You were proud of yourself for not crying, and in the end you were able to admire all of its eight feet of glory. Then you remembered you had to light the whole thing. Two hours later, you had undone no less than three tangles of light strands, found out two of them were dead (and all your untangling had been for nothing), and had one big cry fest for yourself. Not even a steaming cup of cocoa made you feel better after that disaster.

Wrapping presents for your friends and family, rewatching all your favorite Christmas movies, and driving around rich people neighborhoods to admire their lights hadn’t gone as poorly, but they all made his absence grow harder to ignore.

When Bradley told you his deployment would last through the holidays, you struggled to keep your disappointment to yourself, though you’re sure he could see it shining in your eyes. As much as you would miss him during the holidays, you knew it was worse for him, with only emails and skype calls for comfort – no silly little Christmas rituals to occupy his mind.

“You need help in here?” Natasha’s voice jolts you out of your pity-party spiral.

“No, I just got distracted,” you say, scooping up two of the spritzes and offering her one. “Let’s get this party started.”

Phoenix smiles and accepts your cocktail. She herself had just gotten back from her own deployment, and pretty immediately sensed your holiday ennui. She was the one who suggested this festive evening, and you’ve never been more grateful for her friendship.

While you were listless in the kitchen, she had assembled the most perfect gingerbread house making station you’d ever seen: frosting packed into several near-bursting bags, candy canes arranged in perfect rows, gumdrops with a shimmering dusting of sugar, and a scattering of gingerbread roofs and walls waiting patiently to be dressed.

“Wow, Nat, this looks great.”

“Thank you. I’m sure the boys will mess it up in three seconds flat, but at least you appreciate it.”

As if on cue, your front door bursts open, and a clot of merrily dressed sailors spills into your home, arms stacked with presents for Secret Santa. You point to the open space under the Christmas tree, and quickly your and Natasha’s presents are joined by all the others.

After the presents are unloaded, you and Phoenix are engulfed in hugs. Fanboy is wearing a Santa hat, and he has two in hand that he passes to you and Phoenix, insisting that you put them on right now. You happily oblige, as you’re inching closer to how you usually feel during the holidays now that you’re surrounded by friends. Even Jake is cheery, having rocked up in an ugly Christmas sweater covered with bows and tinsel, which is bizarre yet comforting. You do your best not to think about the person you wish was here most, as the Daggers seem dead set to help you have a great Christmas despite his absence.

“This is for you, our gracious host.” Bob hands you a potted poinsettia. “Thanks for putting up with us.”

“It’s really no problem,” you insist as you place the flowers on the side table by your couch. “I love you all.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Still, we’re a lot, I know.”

He’s not wrong – Coyote and Payback have already found the spritzes and Fanboy’s popped three gumdrops into his mouth – but you don’t mind. Even when the gingerbread house decorating competition starts. Calling it a competition might be an understatement. The Daggers are more than competitive, especially about inconsequential things. Nobody speaks as they draft their houses in bright white icing and stud them with decorative candies. The only way to get them to quiet is through arts and crafts, you muse as you decorate your house with swirls of icing like snow drifts and tiny snowflakes dotting the roof and walls.

The sabotage begins early, when Hangman reaches for a bowl of peppermints and not-so-subtly brushes his hand over Phoenix's roof, smearing the frosting.

“Hey asshole,” Natasha says. “That’s my house.”

“Oh really? Looks like you got a little smear there.” Jake slides a finger across Phoenix’s carefully piped shingles, messing up her roof even more.

“You’re a dead man, Seresin.” Nat narrows her eyes. She won’t go for Jake’s gingerbread house, she’ll bide her time. You’re glad you’re not Hangman right now.

“Got anymore spritzes?” Coyote asks you.

You nod your head. “In the kitchen, help yourself.”

When Coyote gets up to refill his glass, Fanboy snatches his piping bag and swaps it for his almost empty one. While Fanboy’s distracted, Payback helps himself to the pile of Twizzlers Fanboy’s been hoarding since the beginning of the competition.

“Who is even going to judge these?” You ask almost absentmindedly as you stand a gingerbread couple together at the door of their house with copious amounts of frosting. “We all know whose house is whose.”

There’s a smattering of laughter.

“We’ll figure it out after Secret Santa,” Nat assures you as she completes the retiling of her roof, the eaves perfectly punctuated with peppermints.

Before you can question the logic of that solution, Bob asks for your opinion on colored versus strictly green and red gum drops.

“Hey, no helping the competition,” Fanboy complains.

“What?” You level a heavy gaze on him. “Scared you won’t win if Bob and I combine forces? I would be.”

“I’m just saying, this should be a fair contest,” he says.

You shrug him off and answer Bob, but in the spirit of sabotage, you neglect to tell him about the frosting dried on his cheek.

Even though you’re risking your gingerbread house’s safety, once you’ve finished, you slip into the hall. You refresh your inbox on your phone, and you smile as you see an email from Bradley.

Subject: Miss you

Hey pretty girl. Been missing you all day today. Wish I was there to hang stockings and give you the best mistletoe kiss the world’s ever seen. Don’t forget to hang it – you can leave it up until I get back. Don’t have a lot of time, but I just wanted to let you know that I love you and I can’t wait to come home to you.

Your heart flutters, as it always does when you get an email from him. You quickly type out a response.

Subject: Miss you more

Hey hot stuff. I’ve already hung the mistletoe and have no plans to take it down until you make me see stars under it. I miss doing holiday things with you (you really know how to wrangle the tree), but Nat especially has been helping me through it. Still, I really miss you. All I need is your arms around me and everything will feel right again. Can’t wait to see you again.

You press send and sigh. You never want to complain – it’s Bradley who had to live on an aircraft carrier for months at a time – but sometimes it feels so unfair for two people to be so in love and yet spend the holidays all alone.

You give yourself a moment to collect yourself before you go back to the increasingly hostile competition. Jake has icing in his hair – you know Phoenix is responsible, but her wrath won’t end there – and Payback’s house had a giant fist-sized crater in the roof. Surely unrelated, Coyote’s knuckles are dusted with gingerbread crumbs. You couldn’t help the smile the chaotic scene pulled from you. Especially since your gingerbread house remains in pristine condition.

You thank Nat for watching over it, and she responds with a bright smile. “No problem, I can’t have the boys messing up your Christmas celebration.”

“Hey!” All the boys except Bob protest in unison. Phoenix raises her brows, point proven.

Once all of the gingerbread houses are complete and aligned in a row like a candied neighborhood block, the party shifts toward the Christmas tree. Bob distributes presents to each of you. Yours is an envelope, and you know it is from Nat. Your name is written on the thick, cream paper in Nat’s graceful script, which you know like your own after years of friendship.

“No one can beat my present,” Nat boasts as she catches you studying the envelope.

“Oh we’ll see,” Coyote says.

You swallow down a little lump, seeing everyone around the tree without Rooster. Though you love and appreciate your friends, the emptiness of his presence is almost smothering.

Your mood warms when Jake volunteers to go first. You’re his Secret Santa, and just as you predicted, he loves the smartphone-controlled paper airplane you got for him. He opens it and has it folded in a matter of seconds. He syncs it to his phone, and his first flight ends with the plane crashing into Coyote’s head.

“Durable.” Hangman remarks as he picks up the paper airplane, which holds its shape just fine.

“Asshole.” Coyote replies.

Payback is next, and he gets a bottle of scotch from Jake. You don’t know much about scotch, but from Payback’s reaction, you can tell it’s a really nice bottle.

Coyote gets Bob a navy Aran sweater, which Bob wastes no time throwing on.

“Feel how soft!” Bob says as he smothers Coyote in a hug. Cue three minutes of Bob inviting everyone to touch his sweater – you can’t blame him, though, it is really soft.

Bob’s gift to Coyote makes you wonder how Nat is going to top it. Bob made a crochet version of Taffy, Coyote’s miniature pinscher.

“Thank you, I love it.” Coyote cradles the crocheted dog tight, and you wonder if you’re just imagining the tremble in his voice or if he’s actually about to cry.

“Come on Javy,” Jake says, “don’t go all soft now.”

Fanboy gets a countertop pizza oven from Payback, which instantly becomes one of his most prized possessions based on the sheer amount of pizza he consumes.

“Thanks, man.” He gives Payback a friendly punch on the arm. “You all have to come over for pizza night.”

You all hum in agreement. Fanboy’s pizzas are amazing, and you wouldn’t mind spending another night with everyone together. Well, almost everyone. You swallow down the lump in your throat.

Phoenix opens her gift from Fanboy slowly, as if she’s afraid of its contents. She peels back the shiny green paper to reveal a charcuterie board and a set of cheese knives with wooden handles that match the board. She hugs it close to her chest and mouths thank you across the room to Fanboy, who doesn’t notice because he’s reading the pizza recipe included with his oven.

Finally it is your turn. All eyes in the room land on you, strangely sober despite the freely flowing spritzes. You give Phoenix a quick glance as you slide a finger under the flap of the envelope, but her expression is unreadable.

“It's a…” you say as your fingers graze a satiny band of fabric. “Blindfold?”

You hold it up for everyone to see. Everyone’s expressions are carefully arranged to not convey anything. Not quite the laughter you were expecting. A sense of uneasiness blooms in your stomach.

Nat stands up and takes the blindfold out of your hands. Quicker than you can think, she’s tying it around your head.

“What is going on?” You ask.

She finishes the bow and pats your shoulder. “Just you wait.”

A few suppressed snickers fill the room and make your uneasiness melt into dread. The gentle shush of a door opening and closing makes it worse.

“I swear, if you guys are ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas-ing’ me right now I will be so angry.”

The silence that falls after you speak is so, so loud. No one turned the record, so even Nat King Cole is quiet. But then you hear it. It’s hard to explain, but you’d know that breathing anywhere. You’d spent many nights falling asleep to that gentle lullaby or hearing it as he held you close in the kitchen, neither of you caring that dinner was burning on the stove.

You rip off the blindfold, and there he is. Bradley. Bradley. Standing next to your Christmas tree, a bow tied around his chest. The Daggers surround him like magician’s assistants, all their hands raised in a sort of ta-da manner.

You leap off the couch and into his waiting arms. He smells like an aircraft carrier and shitty coffee, his clothes rough and government-issued, and his hair cropped a little too close to his head than you know he likes – but he’s yours. He’s yours in the way his embrace consumes you, blurring the line between you and him, erasing the months and miles of distance between the two of you. He’s yours in the way the beat of his heart drums in rhythm with your own. Yours in the way that you are his as well. He lifts you up so your feet dance in the air, pressing kisses to the top of your head.

He sets you down and crashes his lips into yours. He slips his tongue into your mouth unabashedly, and despite your audience, you let him. The kiss is long enough that you start to feel bad for everyone else, so you sheepishly pull away.

“Goddamn, Rooster,” Hangman says, “let the girl breathe.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves the comment away.

But you don’t want to breathe. Not if your other option is to kiss Bradley until you’re both oxygen starved. Because you’re starved for him, need to feed on his presence.

Then the realization sets in. Rooster is supposed to be deployed for another month. You wheel around to face Nat. “How the hell did you do this?”

She shrugs. “Loverboy emailed me last week, just after I got home from my deployment. Said he was coming home earlier than expected, and he wanted to surprise you.”

“Wait, so all of you knew?” You pointedly look at everyone, but nobody can quite keep eye contact with you.

Bradley wraps an arm around your waist. “They all did pretty good keeping it under wraps, huh?”

“I would hope so, given our clearance levels,” Jake says.

Everyone laughs, but you’re still reeling. You can’t believe Bradley is here. His calloused fingers rubbing the skin of your back, just under the hem of your shirt. His gentle laugh reverberating against your body, reminding you what wholeness feels like. His lips, slightly chapped (with none of your chapstick to steal on the carrier), murmuring into your hair. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you know what he means nonetheless.

You’d imagined Bradley’s homecoming as a flurry of ripped clothes, bruising kisses, and mutual insatiable hunger, but this is better. All of your friends in the same room, sharing in this festive homecoming, looking like absolute dorks. Fanboy’s Santa hat sits askew on his head. Payback and Coyote are obviously drunk off their asses (they definitely pregamed the festivities, as Payback has been reduced to giggles and Coyote has actual tears streaming down his face). Jake has yet to realize the frosting in his hair, Bob the frosting on his face. And Natasha is a dork by association. You and Bradley too. But the overwhelming love in the room makes you want to sob happy tears.

Bradley happily indulges you all in judging the gingerbread houses. He gets down to eye level with each entry, runs his fingers along the roofs, occasionally snaps off a piece of candy and pops it in his mouth.

“Very good job, everyone.” He speaks to the group as if you’re all kindergartners, reveling in the building anticipation. There’s never a prize for Dagger competitions, but there doesn’t need to be. Bragging rights is all they need, no matter how menial the situation.

Bradley carefully reshuffles the houses in order from last to first place. Fanbody. Jake. Payback. Coyote. Nat. He purposefully shields first and second place. Only you and Bob are left – maybe the least competitive people in the room – and still, tension is thick in the air.

“And the winner…” Bradley’s voice booms like an old-fashioned gameshow host, “...is…”

He finally slides to the side to reveal your house sitting in first place.

Bob sticks his hand up for a high five. Your hands collide with a solid thunk.

“Not fair,” Fanboy protests. “Rooster’s obviously biased.”

“Come on, he didn’t know whose house was whose,” Phoenix says. “Besides, you weren’t even in the top five, and Payback had a hole in his roof.”

“It’s ok, Nat,” you voice oozes with fake sympathy. “I’d be upset too if I spent so much time on a shit gingerbread house.”

Fanboy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh you want to play that game?”

He lunges around the table, and you immediately grab Bradley to use as a human shield.

“Lots of talk from someone who’s gonna hide behind her boyfriend,” he says teasingly.

“I’m not hiding.” You tighten your grip on Bradley’s waist, his hands covering yours. “You can get to me, you’re just gonna have to get through him first.”

Bradley puffs out his chest. “Nobody disparages the gingerbread contest queen. She earned her title by being the best.”

Later, because he can’t keep a secret from you (the only thing that saved the Secret Santa surprise was only being able to communicate through email), Bradley confesses that he knew which house was yours the moment he saw it. But still, that one little detail doesn’t negate the fact that you are the gingerbread contest queen.

And Bradley defends your honor well as you maneuver him from behind to keep a distance between yourself and Fanboy. Eventually, Bob steps in to broker a peace deal to end the conflict. Somehow, you are roped in for bringing more spritzes to Fanboy’s pizza night, but he can no longer dispute the fact that you have the best gingerbread house. A win is a win, and your gloating privileges remain.

Later, when everyone is winding down and glancing at their coats hanging by the door, Bradley pulls you into the kitchen.

“Honey, I think our guests are about to leave.” You try to move back toward the living room, but Bradley keeps hold of your hand. “Please, let’s not be rude.”

He shakes his head. “They’ll understand. They know. They know exactly what it's like.”

You relent because he’s right. Even you don’t know what it’s like. Loneliness has been a long lingering companion of yours, but you suffer her presence at home surrounded by close comforts and your parents a short drive away. For Bradley, for Nat, for Jake, for Bob and all the rest, it’s different. It’s their job. They suffer loneliness with mostly long shifts and shitty food for company.

So you let Bradley chase out his – and your – loneliness in the kitchen. As he pulls you ever closer, his palms flattening you against him, you wonder how you ever survived apart when it was so clear that your souls were really just one.

You break away panting. God knows how long you were indulging, but you just about jump out of your skin when you realize Phoenix is in the kitchen right behind you, pouring herself a glass of champagne.

Your cheeks warm. “Nat!”

“Sorry, didn’t bother me, so I didn’t want to bother you.” She shrugs. “Want a glass?”

You decline, and you and Bradley shuffle out of the kitchen like teenagers caught in the act. Nearly everyone is shrugging their coats on, chatting about the night, when they catch sight of the two of you.

“Now, just where in the hell did y’all run off to?” Jake prods.

You can’t even look at them.

“Just the kitchen,” Rooster says, locking his hand in yours. “Needed to make sure the champagne was still flowing.”

Everyone shares the same knowing look that makes you want to shove them all out the door. Instead, you and Bradley post up at the door like perfect hosts and thank everyone for coming as they slip into the surprisingly chilly night. Then, only you, Bradley, and Phoenix are left.

While everyone was saying their goodbyes, she was sipping her champagne and quietly wiping sugar, gingerbread crumbs, and crusted frosting off the dining table.

“You bitch,” you say as you swoop in to help her clean up. “How come you didn’t tell me as soon as you found out?”

She laughs and takes another sip of wine. “Why don’t you ask Rooster?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. He sheepishly grins.

“In my defense,” he says, “it was a really good surprise.”

“I can’t believe you two.” You laugh. “But thank you for the surprise. It was wonderful.”

You try to direct your gratitude to them both, but something in Rooster’s expression snags your gaze and won’t let go. There’s still an unsatiated hunger heavy in his eyes.

Nat sets down her now empty glass. “Alright, lovebirds, I’ll take that as my cue to leave.”

She gathers her things, and you walk her to the door.

“Thank you.” You give her a hug. Neither of you are super touchy, but your gratitude for her tonight is almost endless. “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t mention it.” She squeezes you tight before letting go. “Goodnight, Rooster!”

“Goodnight!” He calls from somewhere deep in the house.

“Sounds like he’s waiting for you,” she winks. “See you soon.”

“Get home safe!”

And with that, it’s just the two of you. You expect Bradley to pounce the second the door closes, but he doesn’t appear as you linger by the doorway. Odd. You check the kitchen, living room, and dining room. All empty.

“Bradley?” You call.

“Right here.”

His response floats from down the hallway, from your bedroom.

And sure enough, there he stands in the doorway. Right under the mistletoe you hung up earlier in the week, the biggest grin on your face when you pictured his homecoming some time after New Years, all the Christmas decorations gone except the lonely mistletoe, waiting patiently for his arrival. But now, you can put the mistletoe to good use while Christmas is still bright on the horizon. The warmth of the season bleeds into the warmth of your kiss. Christmas will come as surely as it would have if Bradley was on deployment, but now you welcome it. You want lazy days sipping eggnog and baking cookies. You want late, festive nights at the Hard Deck with the Daggers, getting into pool competitions with Bradley as your loyal teammate despite how disastrous you are at pool, assured in his easy we-lose-together attitude. You want a Christmas morning with presents that don’t matter because the best gift you could ask for has already appeared right by your tree tonight, wrapped in a bow.

“Don’t leave me ever again,” you whisper against his chest.

“I won’t,” he says, “I won’t.”

You both know it’s not something you can ask of him, not a promise he can keep. It’s not fair to either of you to pretend like this will be his last homecoming, the last time you both are starved of each other for months. But right now, it feels good to pretend.

You can’t think long about his future deployments, however. Your worries melt away as Bradley makes good on his promise to give you the best mistletoe kiss the world’s ever seen.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff

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tired-fandom-ndn · 7 days ago

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It's November so here is a reminder, when you're making a fantasy or inclusive or generic winter holiday, that:

sleighs and jingle bells

stockings filled with presents

presents in general

candy canes, gingerbread men, fruitcake, etc

reindeer

poinsettias, mistletoe, and holly

Christmas trees and similarly decorated conifers

literal fucking Santa Claus

are not secular and generic images of winter. They are not universal across winter holidays. They are not all inclusive and they are not pan-religious and they turn the potential of a really interesting winter celebration into Christmas Repackaged™, even if you happen to throw in a happy Hanukkah or put in a single menorah in the background, with the vague implication that Hanukkah is just Jewish Christmas™ and interchangeable with Christian celebrations and practices.

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honeybeedrabble · 11 months ago

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what it is hoe, best writer ever, can i please request an abbacchio x reader but christmas themed?? like mistletoe and santa hats and passionate smut pls pls pls 🎄🎅

This is gonna make a great gift… for christmas…

CW: piv (unprotected so be safe), cream pie (don’t do thaaaat…), very soft honestly, lots of fluff, breast play, mistletoe 🤭🤭, lmk if i missed anything.

Team Bucciarati was coming over for the annual Christmas dinner party you and your boyfriend hosted at your house. The food was ready and the table was set, however, there was a crucial element that was missing at this festive feasting.

“Oh c’mon, Leone. What ever happened to your Christmas cheer?” you giggled, setting a floppy santa hat on your boyfriends head.

He sat on the loveseat, arms crossed as the red and white hat adorned his grumpy face so perfectly.

“What are you talking about?” he huffed, adjusting the hat as the small white puffball swung from side to side.

“Look around, isn’t the place missing something?” you asked. Abbachio looked around, an eyebrow cocked.

“No… the stockings are hung, the trees been decorated for weeks, there are about a hundred lights in this room alone, and I genuinely believe we wouldn’t be able to fit a single poinsettia anywhere else in this house.”

You softly pouted, leaning in the doorway from the living room to the dining room, tilting your head to the side and looking up at the bare ceiling.

“Are you sure we aren’t missing something?” Just then something clicked inside of him. The mistletoe. He tried to hide his blush, but you knew this look all too well and felt your lips tug into a smirk.

“Last year Mista wouldn’t let up until we kissed under that god forsaken ceiling bush…” you couldn’t help but blush yourself as you reminisced.

“Come on, it was cute.”

“It was indecent…” he said, a slight hint of humor in his voice. “I don’t see why you feel the need to try to impress them so much with all your decorations.”

“Because it means we get to spend time together making this place a home… our home.” You added softly, walking over to the nearby coffee table and grabbing the mistletoe.

Abbachio stood up from his seated position on the loveseat, walking over to you where he would gently take the plant from your hands and hang it right above you on the ceiling with a nearby thumbtack.

“Well when you put it like that…” he smirked, towering over you as he positioned the decorative plant just right.

“So you’ve come around after all?”

“Well I’m no Scrooge, and if doing this means I get to see you happy then I don’t care what they’ll ask of us tonight.” Abbachio looked almost proud of his decorative skills, admiring the perfectly symmetrical placement.

You looked up at him and smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his chest. He looked down at you with a curious face, interested in your sudden display of affection.

“Looks like it’s just us under this thing.”

“It seems so, and what of it, hmm?” he asked, his large hand caressing the back of your head and smoothing your hair down from its ruffled place against the santa hat.

“And it means we have to kiss now.”

“Oh really? I wasn’t aware,” he teased, something that was rare from him and heavily welcomed by you.

“Well then now you are, and you need to fulfill your duties and kiss me,” you smiled, an arm unwrapping around his waist as your hand snaked up his abdomen and lay against the warm skin of his chest.

He bent down to your height, gently cupping your face in his hands and placed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. You always loved this, the way he held you so gently, the way he seemed to calm even the slightest of nerves in you with his kiss alone. It was moments like these you considered him a godsend.

He gently caressed your cheek bone with his thumb, then broke the kiss as gently as he started it. You opened your eyes to see him and felt your heart ache at the look he gave you. His eyes were blown wide, lilac hair softly drooping towards his face. You smiled as you collected his hair and tucked it behind his ear. That stupid santa hat on his head knocking the lock of hair back in his face. You two giggled, then looked back in eachothers eyes.

You hadn’t realized how anxious you really were for this party until you felt how relaxed you were now. It’s as if all that time you spent running around for gifts and wrapping them, mixed with the troublesome time of decorating the house and preparing the food hadn’t happened to you at all. You knew in a way that was true. Who was there to tell you Bucciarati’s jacket size when you didn’t know? Who was there to help you with the food when you still needed to go grocery shopping? And who was there to help put the star on the tree because you couldn’t reach? It was all Abacchio. In your heart you always knew you loved him, but now you were finally presented with the knowledge of your devotion for him. As if it was something that kept the world going.

“Have you opened the wine? You have that heavy lidded look to you,” Abbachio asked, thumb still caressing your soft skin.

“No no, it’s not that.” You smiled, eyes shutting as you tilted your head into his hand, placing your own on his wrist.

“Well then, beautiful, what is it?” He spoke so softly, something he regularly did to you out of respect.

“It’s you, Leone. It’s all you.” You opened your eyes, watching how his cheeks warmed up at your sentiments. “You know I love you. I couldn’t ask for a better gift than you, in fact you might’ve just ruined all presents anyone may have gotten me tonight.”

“I hope that’s not true, I have something special planned.” He smiled. “But regardless, I was thinking the same thing.”

He kissed you again, more hunger this time. His arms wrapped around your waist as yours interlocked around his neck, your jaw going slack as he licked along your lower lip. A sigh escaped your mouth, one of your hands tangled in his long, silky hair. You could feel his smirk against your lips, his teeth running along your lower lip to tease you as you threw your head back.

“It’s shocking to me how easily you can switch on the flip of a dime for me,” he softly cooed, bending down further to lick a stripe up your neck.

You shuddered as he latched into your jaw, sucking a small hickey just underneath it that would be impossible to hide. Your hands continued to tangle in the back of his head, legs threatening to give under his massive presence if it weren’t for your arms holding on tight.

“I love it when you get like this,” he whispered sensually in your ear, his grip on your waist becoming more firm as he kissed you again, swaying side to side with you.

He gradually led you over to the loveseat he was sat in previously, moving gracefully almost as if he were dancing with you there. He sat down on the loveseat and pulled you into his lap, stroking your neck as you looked deep into his eyes that twinkled in the soft light of the christmas tree.

His hands were now on your hips, guiding you closer til you could feel the heartbeat pounding in his chest, along with the growing erection hitching in his pants as you slid further into him. You shuddered at the feeling, your skin growing hotter and the exchange becoming steamier.

There was an small yet audible groan rumbling in his throat when you shifted your hips just right, his jaw falling slack, urging you to explore eachothers mouths more on the velvety couch. His large hands slid up your back, sending chills up your spine until they settled at your upper back, pushing you further into his chest.

You ran your hands up his chest, landing on his neck, you lightly moaned as you felt goosebumps rise on his skin as you two continued making out in the living room. You could feel every subtle moment, the smooth curves of his muscular neck, the was his tongue caressed your lips before diving back in your mouth, the way his muscles tensed when you ground against him just right, the texture of his long hair as you pushed it back for more leverage. By now he was sure that all he wanted was you, he was also sure he’d be replaying this moment over and over again throughout the evening if he found himself alone.

“Abbachio…” you whimpered his name softly, legs shivering in excitement, the movements only arousing his hunger for you.

Abbachios hold on you became tighter, he wasn’t even aware of it in the heat of the passion. His hands left your back and moved up to the front of your blouse, unbuttoning it and feeling up your soft skin that was just underneath it.

As your blouse opened up so did the rest of you, with a sigh your head fell to the side, exposing yourself even further. Abbachio was pleased as he unclasped your bra, his tongue caressing your cleavage before your breasts spilled out of their confines.

Quickly you reached for his pants and undid the button and zipper, signaling you wanted them off. You got up on your knees which was enough for him to slide off, a strange hardness hitting you inner thigh as he slid them off. You ignored it, preferring the hardness hitting your stomach right now.

“You know we’re going to have to make this quick, if I’m not mistaken I think everyone’s about to be on their way soon.” Abbachio turned his head to the large grandfather clock next to the roaring fireplace.

“Trust me, we can get this done pretty quick.”

You pulled your panties to the side, your red skirt making his access easier. Delighted, his hand lifted it up caressing your folds with his thumb. You shivered, grasping his shaft and replacing his fingers for his tip, running it up and down, spreading his warm precum along your clit. You bit your lip when he smiled devilishly at you, wanting to grab you by your waist and plunge himself deep into your cunt, but stopped himself when he realized it would be at his pace instead of yours. It was something he did to let you warm up the way you saw fit.

Lucky for him you sunk down onto his length soon enough and you could feel his muscles tense up when you took him until he bottomed out. You put your hands on the headrest of the couch and kissed him on his forehead.

“Mmmm…” he hummed, face turning a pale pink when you put a twist in your hips. “Enjoying yourself up there?”

“Y-yeah,” you grunted, pushing yourself up only to slide back down into his lap with a breathy moan.

He placed a hand on one of your tits, his index and thumb rolling a nipple after he spat on it. You stiffened up, then arched your back, feeling him throb inside of you.

“Seems like y-you are too,” you let out, feeling juices run down your thighs.

“You read me like a book,” his other hand was now firm on the underside of your thigh, guiding you up and down his length as he deliciously stretched you out.

You let him take control for you, his slippery cock penetrating you over and over again, pushing against spots inside of you he was well acquainted with. He smiled when he watched your face contort, eyes watering with pleasure.

He moaned your name, gently nibbling your earlobe as he held you up and lifted his hips into you, his pubic bone grinding against your clit making you see stars. His pace began to become more and more rough, your cunt squeezing his girth tightly as his smooth tip explored your insides.

Abbachio became flustered as he watched you writhe in his lap, unable to help himself he turned you both over and grabbed the outer sides of your thighs. He realigned himself with you enterance and you both let out matching moans when he thrusted inside. You both got louder when you realized how much deeper he could be inside of you. In and out, over and over, the mix of noises between your gutteral groans and the squelching of your cunt only made him pound you harder.

You watched as his hat threatened to fall off and when it almost did you grabbed his face and brought it closer to yours, making out now as he fucked you senseless. You moaned in his mouth while you wrapped your legs around his torso, holding on for dear life.

“It’s good?” He asked, voice husky now as he felt you flutter around him.

“S-so good! Ngh- love… i love you!” you cried out, diving back in for another kiss.

You felt yourself shake, your stomach churn, and body burn hot as you came hard. You thought he looked so pretty with his hat on as he sunk his teeth into his lip, grunting while he rearranged your organs with his cock.

Soon enough he couldn’t help himself as he spilled his cum deep in your walls, you felt the way he shuddered and knew it was over before he did. He almost whimpered as he drained himself inside of you, your kisses became sloppy through both your orgasms. When he finally pulled out he noticed how late it was and was anxious to gain his composure.

“Shit… Theyll be here any minute now! I’m sorry my love, I’ll make this up to you later tonight- I promise!” He panted as his chest rose and fell, leaning over to kiss you one more time before rushing over to your linen closet to find a towel.

You reclasped your bra and buttoned your shirt, finally tossing off that santa hat. You bent down to pick up his pants so he could put them on easier when a small red box fell out of his pocket. It had a silver bow on the top and you smiled at how cute it was. Absentmindedly you opened it and froze when you saw a small ring sitting in the middle.

“Lay back and I’ll take care of the mess, okay?” Abbachio asked entering the room again. He also froze when he saw you holding his ring. “So you found it…” He sighed before letting out a small laugh.

“I was planning on proposing after presents and… at the very least while I was wearing pants, but I guess these things can’t be helped.” He walked over to you and sat down next to you.

“Marry me?” He asked, taking one of your hands and placing it on his chest, heart beating a million miles a minute.

You threw your arms around him, crying happily as you kissed his face all over, muttering soft “yes”’s over and over again. He placed the ring on your finger and grabbed your face gently in his hands. He looked up for a moment and you did too, seeing a mistletoe you must’ve forgotten hanging right above you. You two laughed softly until there was a knock at the door. You jumped and ushered Abbachio out of the room to change as you quickly cleaned yourself and fixed your hair.

Soon enough you opened the door and we’re greeted by all your friends, each one holding their own gifts for eachother. It didn’t take long for them to notice your ring and when Abbachio came out they all congratulated you profusely. Dinner went well, the whole party did. There wasn’t a moment you weren’t grateful for your fiancé, and as the night went on you realized that he wasn’t lying about making it up to you.

AN: happy holidays everyone !! i’m very grateful to have such amazing people interacting with my stuff and i hope everyone had a great holiday season !!

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