#how to make christmas poinsettia

[planthouseandgarden]

How to Care for Poinsettias? All You Need To Know

How to Care for Poinsettias? Welcome to our How-To Guide on caring for Poinsettia plants, the perfect addition to your home’s festive decor. As the holiday season approaches, Poinsettias bring vibrant colors and elegance. This guide will walk you through essential steps to ensure your Poinsettias not only flourish during the holidays but thrive year-round. For a visual walkthrough, check out the…

[holylulusworld]

Big grumpy bear - Christmas snippet

Summary: He’s grumpy. You are sweet. A match made in heaven.

Pairing: Alpha!Walter Marshall x OmegaReader

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, grumpy alpha, tooth-rooting fluff, pregnant reader, overprotective alpha

Big grumpy bear masterlist

“What is this?“ Walter grumbles under his breath as he enters your office. There is a huge bouquet of roses on your desk. “Why are there roses on your desk? I got you a…” He inhales sharply as the poinsettia plant he gifted to you now stands on the windowsill. “Why did you move the plant I bought for you?”

“Uh-it needs bright daylight, alpha,” you giggle as he seems to be jealous of whoever gifted the roses to you. “You want it to survive, right?”

“Sure…sure,” he says but eyes the roses with darkened eyes. “Who gave you these?”

You’d love to tease your alpha and make him jealous but you show mercy and tell him the truth.

“Oh, these are for Susan, but she’s allergic and gave them to me,” you explain. “She didn’t want to throw them away.”

“Susan. Hmm…” Walter considers your answer. He watches you like he does with a perpetrator. Arms crossed over his wide chest, and with a grumpy expression, he watches you watching him. “That true – or did that douche not get the message last time?”

“Walter,” you purr his name as you slowly get up from your chair. His eyes immediately drop to your middle to watch you run your hand over your swollen belly, “I think everyone knows that you laid claim on me and that I love you.”

“Good,” he clears his throat. His shoulders relax and his features soften as he looks you up and down. “Your belly got bigger again.”

This time, you cross your arms over your chest, and huff. “He’s huge, like his daddy. What can I do? The baby always wants to eat. I’m hungry all the time.”

His eyes light up as you keep on talking about your baby. He hums and stuffs his hands in his pockets to search for the chocolate bar he got you on his way back to the office. 

“I’ve got something for you,” he says and offers the chocolate bar to you. “It’s your favorite with chocolate-nougat cream filling, omega. Only for you.”

“Walter,” you suppress a giggle. “How about we have lunch together first? I’ll eat it for dessert.”

“I got lunch for you too, angel,” he crouches down to cup your belly with his large hands. Walter presses his ear to your belly and closes his eyes. “It’s waiting for you at my office. You can sit on the couch and enjoy your food.”

“You think of everything, huh?” You run your fingers through his luscious locks. “My alpha takes good care of me and our pup.”

He hums happily and enjoys your attention. The last weeks were stressful, to say the least. Case after case kept him away from you and your shared home for longer than he liked.

“I’m an attentive grump.”

“No, you’re my sweet grumpy bear,” you softly say. “Big. Strong. Sweet. Cuddly.”

Walter laughs at the last one. “Cuddly?”

“Yeah. You love to cuddle me,” you point out. “You always wrap your arms around me and nuzzle your face in my neck.”

He grins and nuzzles your belly. “Let’s go to my office. The food is calling your name, and I guess little Walter is hungry too.”

“Another bite, for me,” Walter whispers in your ear. He holds a slice of apple in front of your mouth, waiting for you to eat it. “You need fresh fruits and vegetables. Doctor’s order.”

You giggle and open your mouth. “For you.” You chew the apple while wiggling on Walter’s lap. He always wants you to sit on his lap to have you as close as possible. “Hmm, tastes great.”

“I told them that I need a few days off over Christmas,” Walter casually says. “I need to take care of my omega. We will have delicious food, and a lot of free time.”

“What about gifts?”

“We will have gifts too, Y/N,” he murmurs. “Lots of it.”

“I got something nice for you. I got it after my last ultra-sound. I swear it wasn't expensive.”

“A new sweater?”

“No. I won’t tell you, Walter. Not before Christmas morning!”

“Please tell me,” Walter whispers in your ear. “Omega, tell me…”

“Not a chance…”

“Walter, what are you up to?” You wonder why Walter wanted you to stand in front of the Christmas tree he bought and decorated. He didn’t allow you to lift a finger. “Alpha?”

“I-“ he clears his throat and snaps a few pictures with his phone. “Give me a moment to sort my thoughts.”

Walter walks toward you. He looks you all over, hums, and then he goes down on one knee.

“Angel, you are my sweet, annoying wonder. You just popped up in my life and never left.” He glances at his phone. “Wait…not…this sounded awful…crap.”

Your heart flutters with every word that leaves his lips. Walter stammers but tries to play it cool. “What I wanted to tell you is that you made me a better man, and I love you for it.”

“I love you too.”

“Wait, I’m not done,” he grunts as his knee hurts from kneeling so long. “I-I want more. You already wear my mark and carry my child. But I want you to wear one more thing.”

He gets a beautiful ring out of his pocket, hopefully looking up at you. 

“Walter,” you sniffle and clap one hand over your mouth.

“I want you to wear my name…”

“What if I want you to wear mine?” He chuckles, and you laugh. “Of course, I want to wear your ring and your name.”

He exhales deeply. “Thank fuck.” 

“Same, baby,” you offer your hand to let Walter put the ring on your finger. “I love it.”

Walter slowly gets up to cup your face and kiss you softly. “So, what is my gift? The one you were talking about the whole time.”

“I got it right here, Walter,” you grab his hand to place it on your belly. “Say hi to your baby boy and your baby girl.”

Tags in reblog.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

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.

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Rooster fics <3 Sorry if I've missed anyone who has asked to be tagged!

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

@lonelywitchv2

@cashwheelersgirl89

@callsign-jupiter

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@everything-i-love-in-life

@malindacath

@rosiahills22

@wandering-wah

@olliepig

@m1llydins

@emilyniamh3679-blog

@footwatter

@books-for-summer

@harper1666

@coffeeaddictedmay

@diabeticgoth

@katiebby04

@problematic-420

@wishfulhope

@elizabitchsshit

@inarabee

@boringusername3

@zombiedixon89

@izz-ayes-world

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@sunnysofia

@a-nostalgic-disaster

@aaliyahjovel

@anyonehaveanyorangeslices

@bcon24

@lovemesomevesey

@daydreamingalways

@gerudolivinliv

@emilybradshaw

@olivethenerd16

@kaitlynw011

@l-rexter45

@xoxo-lyss

@beebslebobs

@dracosluvbot

@peoniarose

@annedub

[daydreamingyuta]

Baking Christmas Cookies | Mark Lee

summary: fluff, boyfriend!mark surprises you by planning a baking Christmas cookies date wc: 1,351

Spending your first December with Mark as your boyfriend was already better than you could have imagined. On December 1st he surprised you with an advent calendar he made for you. You felt like a little kid again because as soon as you woke up, you couldn't wait to see the little present Mark has gifted you today.

You hop out of bed and throw on your fuzzy socks to keep you warm before you go downstairs into the kitchen. You make eye contact with the advent calendar that's sitting on your kitchen table, begging to be opened. You resist though, deciding to make some coffee first.

Your coffee machine whirs as it pours into your mug. You add your creamer and sugar and just as you're about to take your first sip, you hear your phone ding. You pick it up from the counter and see that it's from Mark.

Mark: Good morning :) did you open day five yet? Y/n: I'm just about to!

As soon as you hit send, you head over to the calendar. Mark is clearly excited for you to see what's inside, so you knew it had to be something good. It takes you a minute to find day five, as all the days are jumbled and out of order. You finally find it though and notice that it's the smallest box out of the whole calendar.

You wonder what could possibly be in the tiny box, and are only left more confused when you do open it. All that's in there is a piece of paper folded up about ten times. You unravel it, expecting a note to be written on it and you were correct.

"We're baking Christmas cookies today ♡"

Your heart jumps at the idea of baking with Mark, an activity you have yet to do with him. You immediately grab your phone and text Mark about how excited you are.

Y/n: There's nobody I would rather bake Christmas cookies with Mark! Mark: 🥹 samee

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Hours go by as you two both complete your tasks for the day, the thought of baking getting you through your work. Mark had informed you that he already had all the ingredients ready so all you had to do was come over to his place.

You were ecstatic about all the things Mark has been doing for you recently, but a part of you couldn't help but feel slightly bad. Since the advent calendar gift was a surprise, you didn't make him one. It felt wrong that he was showering you with gifts, while he won't get any until the 25th.

You decided to solve this issue by going into the store real quick before you left for his house. This last minute gift wasn't going to be extravagant or anything, but at least he would have something fun to open tonight.

You scoured the department store, Christmas music blaring in the background, until you spotted the perfect gift. Even though you had never baked with Mark before, you knew him well enough to know that he was more than likely going to end up spilling flour all over himself. So, the forest green apron with hand-stitched poinsettias all over was what you were going to get him.

Luckily, you had given yourself enough time to go home and wrap the gift before you actually have to leave.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

As the sun was starting to set, it was getting progressively colder out. You dressed yourself in a red off-the-shoulder sweater and a cream skirt with tights to keep you warm. You would usually just bake in your pajamas, but dressing up for Mark was always so much fun, especially since his compliments were always so sweet and left you with the biggest, goofiest smile on your face. Plus, Mark happened to really love this sweater on you, considering how he reacted the last time you wore it.

You hide Mark's gift behind you, as you knock on his front door. Almost like Mark was already waiting right by the door, he opened up right away. He was about to bring you into a hug, but then takes a step back as he notices your cute little outfit. He tilts his head at you and gives you his little smirk. "C'mon..."

"Do I look nice?"

He takes a step closer to you and cups your face into his hands. "Honestly, y/n. I have never in my entire life seen someone as beautiful as you." He squishes your cheeks and gives you a quick kiss to show just how much he adores you.

He un-squishes your cheeks and pulls you into a hug, rocking you back and forth like he always does. His eyes must have been closed because he hadn't noticed his present until he pulled away from the hug and you pulled it out. "For you."

"babyyy, I'm supposed to be the one spoiling you with gifts."

"We can both spoil each other." You say, leaning in and offering him an invitation to give you a kiss. Of course he happily takes the offer, pulling you in by your waist to get you closer.

Mark had suggested opening his present after you baked cookies, but since the gift was going to be perfect to wear while you were baking, you convinced him to open it now.

Mark tore into the present, revealing two Christmas aprons. He immediately puts it on and poses for you so you can judge how it looks and, of course, he looks adorable. "You're so cutee Mark."

"This is perfect for today! You got yourself one?" Mark say, pointing at the second one.

You nod your head and Mark helps you put it on. You grab the string so you can tie it around your waist, but Mark moves your hands away, wanting to do it for you.

Once you're all set, you finally start the activity you've both been looking forward to all day. Mark had already put out all the ingredients as well as put on the Christmas music, so you got started right away.

You two mixed all the ingredients together, following the recipe closely, wanting the cookies to turn out perfect. Just as you had expected, Mark had managed to spill some flour all over him, making a mess of the apron.

"Thankfully, I have the most amazing girlfriend who got me this apron so I didn't make a total mess."

"You're a lucky man, Mark Lee." You say, playing along.

"I really am y/n." Mark says, serious all of a sudden. "Like actually I am the luckiest guy in the world to have you."

Your heart melts because you know he means every word. You feel yourself start to tear up, so you bring your attention back to making the cookies. Never has anyone made you feel more loved and more special than Mark does.

Feelings of unworthiness cross your mind, but you quickly shut them down knowing that those thoughts would be heartbreaking to Mark if he ever found out.

Instead, you coat your fingertips with leftover flour and flick it at Mark for making you emotional.

"Woww. Here I am like pouring out my heart to you and this is how you act?"

"Because you're gonna make me cry!" You laugh, now feeling slightly back for flicking flour at him. You go to wipe off his face, but you use the hand with flour still on it and end up smearing more onto him. "I'm making it worse." You say, laughing harder.

"You're doing it on purpose." He says, wrapping his arms around your waist as he takes a few steps backwards. You lift your sleeve up to his face to fully get the flour off. "All clean?"

You nod your head and Mark pulls you into a kiss. You melt into him, your heart so full it feels like it could burst. "You know, some hot chocolate would go perfect with our cookies."

"Then we have to stop getting distracted and actually make the cookies." You say, not moving from his grasp.

"but you're my favorite distraction, baby."

[callsign-venus]

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.

[nerdy-nook]

Do you guys have any idea how much I love Pre-Kerberos headcanons??

Oh My God. It's basically half of my Voltron thoughts (the Voltron brain worms have been eating me alive).

I love thinking about Pre-Kerberos Pidge (or should we call her Katie?) and her possibly meeting pre-kerberose Keith. Shiro has taken Keith under his wing and decides it would be a good idea to try to get him to socialize more, and it just so happens that Commander Holt's annual Christmas Party is coming up.

Normally Shiro wouldn't recommend something as intense as a party for such a socially stunted kid, but he knew the Holt's were someone he could trust. Shiro particularly hoped to introduce Keith to the Holt's daughter, Katie. She has some social issues of her own and it's been affecting her at school. Because of this, she's having trouble making friends, and some of her classmates picking on her.

Both Katie's parents and Keith's "parents" (Shiro and Adam) think it would be a good idea for them to meet. Matt, who became friends with Keith through Shiro, told Katie all about him. She was thrilled to meet someone with similar interests and couldn't wait to quote "Have an intelligent conversation with someone her own age."

Cut to the day of the party, Keith is shaking with anxiety and doesn't know if he can do this. It takes a while but Shiro and Adam manage to calm him down. Because of this, they're a little late so to make up for that Adam suggests that they grab some flowers for Colleen. They stop at a store and pick out a poinsettia because they need to have some Christmas cheer in Arizona and then are off to the Holt's.

They decide that Keith should be the one to give Colleen the flowers. Keith introduces himself to the Holts, fumbling all the way, shakily gifting the flower to Colleen while trying to make eye contact. She sees Keith's effort and is somewhat charmed by him. Once inside Colleen calls Katie over to meet him.

Katie dashes over, excited to try to make a friend, and immediately starts to bombard Keith with questions. "Hi! My name is Katie, but you probably already know that from Matt. What's it like studying at the Garrison? I heard you're at the top of your class! What's your favorite subject? Do you like Physics?"

She grabs his arm and pulls him away from the entrance towards the couch where they can talk more. Keith is bewildered but does his best to keep up with the excited young girl. Colleen smirked, thinking this was the beginning of her little girl finally having a crush. Boy was she wrong.

Katie holds Keith hostage for the rest of the night, and he finds himself genuinely enjoying the company. He's still quiet and a bit reserved but he answers, managing to ask Katie some questions about herself. He's glad he's found someone his own age he can relate to and doesn't look down on him.

By the end of the night, after dinner, both Katie and Keith fell asleep next to each other on the couch. Katie's head leaning on Keith's shoulder, little did they know this would be the start of a lifelong friendship.

[fastcardotmp3]

Nancy & Eddie; Nancy & Wayne; 1.4k; post-S1; the melancholy of Christmas; grief/mourning

That night, after Steve goes home and the leftovers are put away and the voices from Mike's walkie talkie murmur through the walls, Nancy creeps past the gleaming tree in the living room and out the front door.

The dark of the sky is gray with the potential for overnight snow and her layers of shirt and sweatshirt and coat and scarf and gloves keep the cold from permeating too quickly, but her cheeks pink over before she reaches the end of the cul-de-sac, let alone her destination.

She shouldn't be out this late. Her mother would hate it if she weren't wine drunk and sleepy enough not to notice, and there's not a good place for Nancy to do what she needs to do, but it's also not an optional thing.

It's not, to her.

There's no grave to visit at the cemetery, because Barb isn't dead to anyone else the way she is to Nancy, but she goes there anyway. Has been. Will continue to.

She's making do, in this and in so many other ways, and so she tries not to feel the utter not enough-ness of the little stack of stones she's built in a lopsided pyramid under a big oak tree with far-stretching branches right at the highest point of the cemetery.

She tries not to think about how she can't add Barb's name to this sham of a grave, can't even call it that when Barb's body is trapped somewhere she can never reach and thus can't bring home either.

Nancy just lowers herself to the cold, hard earth and goes about straightening the pile again, as she always does. She uses them as a barrier this time, a little fenced-in square to hold up the poinsettias she'd stolen from the centerpiece that had sat in the center of their Christmas dinner.

Her hands tremble. She lets them.

Her swallow grows thick. She lets it.

Her tears do not fall. They stay caught in her gut where the rest of her guilt resides, the rest of all her worthless searching, the rest of the hope she never got to mourn for fear of seeming ungrateful for the return of her brother's best friend.

Nancy sits here in front of her makeshift memorial and she does not cry, because there are no tears, and she does not speak, because there are no words, but her heart screams loud enough to shake the town apart.

Her soul wails and laments and begs. She lets it.

She lets it be loud enough that she doesn't hear the footsteps coming up behind her until there's the quiet clear of a throat and question of--

"Hate to bother you, kiddo, but can I bother you a moment?"

Nancy startles, both at the gentle gruffness of the self-contradictory question and the realization that her face is damp with the silent remnants of tears she cannot feel past the numbness of the cold.

"Sor-- Sorry?" she clears her throat as she stumbles quickly to her feet, brushing off her skirt and the thick tights beneath it as she does.

The man behind her isn't someone she knows, which would be a frightening thing if she were in any other mental state than this one, so doused in apathy for her own self that danger doesn't really register.

He wears a warm looking hunting jacket, a thick winter cap with flaps over the ears, and holds a thermos out in front of him.

"S'only, my boy spotted you out in the cold over here," he gestures to Nancy's left where she sees a boy she does recognize, the flit-away of his gaze back to a headstone at his feet all she gets out of Eddie Munson before his arms are crossing over his chest and his shoulders are hiking up around his ears. "Wondered if maybe you couldn't do with some company? Or just somethin' warm to drink?"

He holds the thermos up, this-- this person speaking for Eddie Munson when Nancy has never seen the guy be anything other than outspoken.

The sky is gray in its darkness, a muted sort of black that doesn't allow for stars beyond the heavy clouds.

There's a little pile of stones which are the only remembrance for a girl who deserved so much better than she ever got on the ground behind her.

"You want me to...?"

"We're visitin' his Mama," he says gently, and Nancy understands Eddie's posture better now, that distance away feeling shorter between them. "Anyone out here on Christmas oughtn't be alone, though, don't you think?"

"She didn't run away," Nancy blurts, the sudden need to explain overwhelming any of the kindness being offered to her.

He just nods. Succinct but not dismissive.

"Okay."

"She--" Nancy chokes. She can't tell if her cheeks are still wet. "She didn't run away."

She's not allowed to say it. She's not allowed to talk about it. She can't impart the seriousness of how much Barb didn't leave, didn't go, didn't get far enough away before her time ran out.

But this man, this Munson, he just takes a step closer with the suggestion of an offer with the slightest raise of his arm and Nancy is-- Nancy is hugging him.

She's leaning into the warmth of him, letting him wrap his arm across her shoulders and rub her back with a gloved hand because-- because no one, not a single person, none of them listen when she says it.

Not even the ones who know, not even the boy who loves her, not her own mother who cared more about the fact that Nancy lost her virginity than her best friend.

"I hear ya," he says in a quiet murmur and Nancy believes him. Can hardly breathe past the force of what it feels like to have the words she speaks land softly, with understanding.

"Sorry, sorry," she swipes at her face as she pulls away, and he lets her go without argument, but stays standing there. "Sorry, I know I look hysterical, I just."

A hitching breath. She doesn't hear these footsteps getting closer either, but she feels Eddie's presence in that familiar posture she has gotten to know too well since that first week in November.

She's about to enter a new year, a year with a new number and a new turn of the earth that Barb will never see.

"We're going for pie," Eddie says, even as Nancy wipes her face with the tail of her scarf like a child. "Diner off Walnut's open on Christmas. If you wanna come and be a fuckin' mope with me."

And there's something to it, this undeniable acceptance that Nancy is, in fact, facing the same sort of loss as a boy without a mother, that has her snorting with laughter.

There's something about them, the Munson's with their seeing of her in the most vulnerable state she's allowed herself to express outside the privacy of her shower, that feels like the same sort of relief as the release of pressure that comes along with laughter.

"Do you always pick up strays at the cemetery?" she asks with an attempt at humor, expecting the same dry witted sarcasm in response.

Instead she gets a softening.

Instead she gets this: "I was in band with her," with the lowering of a gaze to a pile of mismatched stones, only to raise back to meet Nancy's with intent, "she made me laugh."

Nancy's chin wobbles. Her lungs too tight in her chest.

She knows then, even before she says it and earns the drape of Eddie's arm around her narrow shoulders, that she'll go with them and eat pie with them and grieve with them.

They'll tell her about the woman they've lost and maybe Nancy will be able to choke out a sentence or two about the girl who raised her only for Nancy to fail her.

They'll eat and she will listen to them because she knows the importance of such a thing and it will hurt.

It will always hurt.

"You said something about pie?" she manages to get out with a hard sniff of her frozen nose.

There is a piece of her lost to a world locked off from the rest of them.

She wonders, tucked into the Munson's pickup truck on a journey in search of pie, whether maybe that's not such an isolated feeling as she thought.

[k-marzolf]

Broken Crown

Neighbors to lovers, neighbor au, scarred!Billy, Christmas fluff, alcohol consumption, reader is disabled, fem!reader.

I have never really written for S2 Billy, so I’m a little nervous posting this. But I do like how it came out. I usually don’t write long stuff, but the words really flowed here.

1,027 words.

x

His scars never gave you pause, you’d always smiled at him softly, giving him eye contact. You hauled your groceries up the stairs, your leg shaking with each step.

He paused at his door, looking like he wanted to help you, but was too self isolated to want to engage with anyone.

“Hi, Billy.” You huffed and puffed, almost making it to the last step before your leg buckled, and you could feel yourself falling down the stairs.

“Shit,” Billy cussed, pocketing his keys and jogging down the steps. You laid at the bottom groaning.

“The grocery—“ you mumbled, seeing fruit rolling away.

“I don’t give a fuck.” He said, bending over and scooping you up, he struggled a little, you weren’t very small, but he managed to carry you up the stairs, and open your apartment door.

He set you down on the couch, and went to go collect the groceries. His heart hammered in his chest, the only interaction he had was with Frank and his family.

He hid away otherwise, despite Maria’s best attempt to play matchmaker. “What about Karen?” She had suggested, “Or maybe Matt if you’re into men.” He grabbed your groceries, and your phone and climbed back up the stairs not even winded, his training in the Marines benefiting him, and set your groceries down on your counter, noticing a cat bathing herself in the window. “Need help puttin’ these away?” He asked reserved, hands in his pockets.

You shakily stood up from the couch, “I’ve got it.” You said, approaching him. “Thank you.” You said, kissing his scarred cheek.

He flinched and you pulled away. He was sorry for it.

“I’m sorry, Billy. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” You said softly, biting your lip.

His eyes were drawn to the action, burning to see what your lips tasted like. Maybe like the cherry chapstick you always wore. He could smell it, and his mouth watered.

He kissed your cheek this time, feeling your cheek dimple as you smiled, his beard scratching your skin. He lingered, enjoying the touch of your skin, and the smell of your shampoo.

You reached into one of the bags, and pulled out some flowers. “I can’t have poinsettias or lilies because of Luna, so I got red roses instead.” You plucked one off. “I’m broke after shopping, but here, for picking my sorry ass up.” You grinned.

He took it, feeling a smile that he hadn’t felt in a while, tugging at his lips. “Thanks, rose.” He said, teasingly. He didn’t know your name but rose was a nickname as good as any.

You giggled, cheeks warm.

x

You bumped into each other again, both peeking your heads out at the awful music blaring in the upstairs apartment, like they were having a party on the whole floor upstairs. Billy shook his head, “Thought it was you, rose.” He smiled sheepishly.

You laughed, “Nah, just George upstairs. He likes polka music.”

Billy curled his nose, and you thought it was so cute. “I guess at least it’s not country music.”

You huffed, “Excuse you.” You said, flicking your braid over your shoulder.

He grinned, feeling joy for the first time in a while. “I said what I said.” He smirked, lazily.

You smiled, heart fluttering at sight of his smile, “You should come over some time for cheap wine and—“

“—country music?” He teased, wondering where his good mood was coming from.

You huffed again, “Oh, you. Christmas movies!”

He leaned against his door, “That’s worse.” He said, as you flicked some wine in your glass that you’d brought into the hallway. “Sure, baby. I’ll come over.” He said, shutting his door.

You squealed, dragging him into your apartment. Luna, your cat sniffed him before promptly sitting on his lap on the couch. “Luna-approved.” You said, handing him a wine glass.

You put on A Christmas Carol, sitting down next to him. If Maria knew he was here, she’d be asking when the first date was.

He hadn’t told anyone about you, he wanted to keep you to himself, he didn’t want to share you. Your affection, your kindness. He was selfish, and so rarely on the receiving end of kindness, most people pitied him. It was why he moved out of the penthouse, no longer feeling worthy of it, like a scarred freak.

Halfway through the movie, he realized you were a little tipsy, leaning against him, cheek pressed against his sweater, sipping your wine a little slower.

He touched your cheeks, they were warm. You looked up at him, smiling sweetly. “You’re real handsome, Mister Russo.” You said, kissing his chin, spilling a few drops of wine on Luna.

She meowed angrily, hopping off Billy’s lap, tail swishing as though you’d offended her. “Sorry, Lune.” You said, snuggling further into Billy’s side.

You were drunk for sure, and god he thought it was cute. He felt a warmth in his chest, the first time in months since his accident he felt happy.

He’d been after a target that led to Rawlins, who’d scarred Billy’s face in the fight. He swore he’d get the piece of shit back for it, but for now he was content to wrap his arm around you, as the snow began flying outside.

“I think it was wrong to pity Scrooge. But I guess people did try reaching out to him, I just think pity is just as cruel as apathy.” You rambled, slurping your wine.

“You don’t pity me, rose?” Billy asked, eyebrows raised.

“Why would I? You’re nothing to pity, Billy. You deserve kindness, and compassion. But not pity.” You hesitated, before reaching up and tracing one of his scars. “In Japan, broken objects are often repaired with gold. The flaw is seen as a unique piece of the object's history, which adds to its beauty.” You said, still stroking his face.

He leaned into your hand, “Yeah?” He husked, heart burning for you.

“Mhm!” You said, kissing his chin again, before yawning and resting your head on his shoulder, wiggling your toes in your thick socks.

For that little while, Billy was beautiful.

x

Tags: @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

[moremaybank]

Can you do a Christmas smut with Klaus X witch reader and Klaus fucks her out of jealousy/anger. Also, can he tie her up with his own black suit tie? Love your work! <3

TINSEL & TIES — k.m

pairing klaus mikaelson x fem!witch!reader

summary after an argument, you try to make klaus jealous. in return, klaus has to let you know just how wrong that decision was.

warnings 18+, unprotected sex, bdsm (reader is tied, gagged and restrained), clit-slapping, orgasm denial, face-fucking, cum-swallowing, klaus being tied and gagged at the end, i think that’s it

author's note merry (belated) christmas. this is six days late, but who’s counting? (me. i’m counting. and the guilt is immeasurable) but anyways please enjoy :)

klaus masterlist

the compound looked magical.

warm white lights were strung carefully around the staircases alongside garland that complimented the extravagant christmas tree. poinsettias were laced through the lights and garland. mistletoe hung in strategic locations, a part of klaus's holiday shenanigans. the sweet aroma of baked holiday goods roamed through the air, and fake snow — provided by a spell of your own making — was littered everywhere, making it feel like a white christmas.

everything was perfect, courtesy of you. so it really was a shame that you didn't get the opportunity to enjoy it.

"you're being ridiculous! i put this entire party together, down to every last ornament hanging on that gorgeous tree downstairs. i'm not gonna sit out on my favourite holiday just because you're being paranoid!"

klaus sighed in exasperation, "i'm not being paranoid! i'm playing it safe. excuse me for trying to protect you from the countless enemies i have roaming about this city."

"well, whose fault is that? all you've done over the thousand years you've walked on this earth is turn everyone against you. this is your own fault. i don't deserve to be punished for your mistakes, klaus!"

klaus takes a step closer to you, the aggravation growing more apparent as the seconds ticked by.

"i'd hardly consider taking preventative measures to ensure your safety to be a punishment, y/n."

you rolled your eyes. it was a regular occurrence for klaus to treat you as if you were helpless and weak. it irked you to your core, and tonight, you'd had enough.

"i am so sick and tired of you breathing down my neck. you seem to forget that i can protect myself against anyone who dares to come at me. i am one of the most powerful witches this city has ever seen. i don't need you to babysit me, and i certainly don't need you to treat me as if i'm defenceless."

you shoved past him, shoulder hitting against his as you tried to storm out of your shared bedroom. klaus's hand clasped around your elbow, though, preventing you from making your escape.

"and just where do you think you're going?" klaus questioned, giving you a look of warning.

"downstairs. who knows, maybe i'll meet someone who respects me enough to let me fight my own battles. it'd be ten times better than having my boyfriend treat me like a child," you respond bitterly, "and maybe they'll also be able to make me come, unlike some people here."

it was a low blow and an untruthful one at that, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. it was exhausting having the person you love to act as if you were a burden. and on top of that, it's even worse when you feel as though they constantly undermine your strength.

so, there you were, flirting with a random party-goer who had absolutely no chance with you.

to be quite frank, what you really wanted to do was spend time with klaus. you wanted to dance with him, your bodies pressed close as you felt his undead heartbeat thump against your living one. to feel his hand stroke the small of your back as you two whispered sweet nothings to each other. to bask in the simple intimacy of holding him close to you. but he'd spoiled your mood, and in turn, you refused to be near him.

klaus's eyes had been daggering you two all night, no doubt making good use of his vampire-enhanced hearing abilities as he eavesdropped on your shameless teasing as the hours went by.

he was angry with you, there was no question, but all he could think about was that handsome stranger kissing you in places only klaus had kissed. touching you in places only klaus had touched. breaking you down until you were a mess in his arms as you cried out his name. it was taking everything in him to not tear his heart out of that man's chest and serve it to you on a silver platter.

klaus watched as you stroked the man's arm, fingers lingering over the material of his far less fancy suit as you laughed at his poor excuse of a joke. klaus then slammed his empty glass down on the bar after he chugged the contents of it down his throat, walking over you to and clutching your arm.

"if you don't back off my girl within the next five seconds, your head will be on a spike for everyone here to see. understand?"

the man gulped, nodding without a word before disappearing into the crowd.

you turned to klaus, irritated beyond measure. he was causing a scene — a pointless one — all because of the jealousy that coursed through his veins. before you had a chance to say anything, klaus was dragging you out of the party and up the stairs. once you two had reached your bedroom, he slammed the door and shoved you against it.

"you want to fight your own battles? to force me to watch you lead on some imbecile solely because you're angry with me? fine. that just means you'll take your punishment like a good girl, doesn't it?"

as angry as you were, klaus's words were soiling your panties as he stared down at you. his angry side in the bedroom had always been something you considered to be a blessing, and this time it was no different.

his hand came up to your neck, fingers squeezing your throat when you failed to answer, lost in your own thoughts. "you'd do well to answer me, sweetheart."

"yes, klaus. i will."

"good answer."

and with that, he spun you around, your front pushed flush against the wooden door as klaus's hands ripped the corset of your dress apart with one swift motion. your dress dropped to the floor, pooling around your high-heel-clad ankles. klaus's thick digits wrapped around your hip bones, digging into your skin as he pulled you against him. you could feel his length, hard and throbbing through the material of his suit pants, and it sent butterflies into your core. he was so close, yet so far, and it already had you reeling.

in a flash, you were on the bed, your back against the plush duvet as klaus towered over you. his fingers worked to remove the tie around his neck. when he was finished, he clasped your wrists together with one hand, drawing them to the headboard and securing them in place with the tie. he leaned back to admire his work.

your dress had done wonders for your cleavage, so you'd opted to go braless for the night. you'd also decided against panties because pre-argument-you had hoped to eliminate as many obstacles at the end of the night when klaus would inevitably have you at his mercy. in hindsight, you'd wished you'd worn a damn chastity belt to make things harder for him. your anger was diminishing slowly, but it was still present.

klaus's gaze drank in the sight of you, completely bare and exposed for him. he could sense your arousal from his place at the edge of the bed, and he wanted nothing more than to ravish you in every way possible. he wanted to fulfill your every desire; it was just the way he was. but he also wouldn't let you get away with your attitude and teasing so easily. he was still klaus. he relished in taking his revenge, and it was no different when it came to your treatment in the bedroom. especially when you pushed his buttons.

"i don't think your restrained wrists are enough for me. i do need to teach you a lesson after all."

"jealousy doesn't suit you, mister mikaelson."

"oh, darling. you haven't seen anything yet."

klaus disappeared into the closet, quickly finding three more neck-ties to bind you with. he returned, watching your brows furrow in confusion as he grabbed a hold of one of your ankles.

"as angry as i am, these shoes look gorgeous on you. i think we'd better leave them on," he spoke, bending your leg toward you as he tied your ankle to the headboard. he did the same to the other, and when he got to the last remaining tie, he tied it around the back of your head, gagging you.

the sight of you tied up, your body practically bent in half with each of your legs on either side of your restrained wrists, ready to be used by him...it was all too much. he could feel the madness, the dominant and possessive side of him fully present.

"here's what's going to happen. you'll let me fuck you just the way i want to without using any magic whatsoever to your advantage. disobey me, and you won't get to come tonight. are we clear?"

you gave him a glare, nodding angrily at him. he had you bound and gagged, for christ's sake. it was all you could do.

"good."

klaus began to strip himself of the remaining pieces of his suit, hearing each thump of your heart grow louder and louder as he revealed every inch of his bare skin to you. he climbed back on top of you, fully exposed as his flesh pressed against yours.

goosebumps spread over your skin in anticipation as his lips adorned your neck, nibbling harshly as he sucked love bites into your skin. you tried to hiss through the gag that kept your mouth open wide but to no avail. all you could manage was to pant heavily at the contact. you ached to touch him. to run your hands through his curls. to claw at the flesh of his back. to wrap your legs around his hips and tug his bottom half further into yours as he expressed his love to you through his actions. but alas, you couldn't.

as if he read your mind, his hips ground into your exposed and dripping core. the tip of his length brushed past your entrance, both of you jerking at the near intrusion.

"i'm going to wreck you. i want you to regret even conjuring the thought of someone making you come as hard as i do. we both know that no one could ever compare to me."

his lips trailed down your chest, leaving more love bites across your bare chest. he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue flicking it as he created the same motion on the other with his fingers. your chest heaved, already so far gone.

unbeknownst to you, he sunk his tip inside of you, the relief not quite enough to satiate your yearning for him. then, he buried himself inside of you with a harsh slam of his hips. you whimpered around the gag as he started to move mercilessly, leaving you no time to adjust to his monstrous cock.

"bloody hell, that mouth of yours never fails to get you into trouble, but without it, i wouldn't be able to rip you apart until you're begging for mercy."

klaus's teeth were gritted, the anger bleeding through his expressions and rough actions. his hand found your throat, fingers squeezing as he rutted into you deeper and harsher than ever before. his vampire abilities were on his side now more than ever, the speed of his thrusts quite literally inhumane.

"you're mine. mine to protect, and to love, and to fuck. mine to punish as i see fit. and the next time you force me to watch you flirt with a man who could never own you like i do, i'll do a whole lot more than just tie you up."

his tone was raspy, coated with jealousy but also with a certain want, and it made your toes curl as you took all of him inside of you again and again.

your wrists and ankles felt ached already, the fabric of the ties rubbing your skin raw and leaving behind red marks around them. but you didn't care. you couldn't focus on anything else as klaus fucked your brains out, watching him angrily mutter things to himself as he pulled your body against his to meet his movements. immense pleasure coursed through you as klaus's cock plunged deep into your core.

klaus brought a hand down to your lower stomach, pressing down as he thrusted and thrusted. you could feel every ridge and vein that adorned his length rub against that sweet spot inside of you. your legs were trembling on either side of you, as much as they could while being bound to the headboard.

without warning, he slapped your clit harshly as he fucked you, your hips jerking at the sudden strike. your walls clamped down on his length as if to keep him inside, and your cream began to coat klaus's cock. you hadn't come yet, but you were damn close, and klaus knew that.

"always so responsive. you drive me absolutely mad, did you know that?" he spoke, his hand slapping your clit again repeatedly. you were writhing beneath him, though you were folded and restrained. klaus, who had memorized all your tells when it came to you reaching your high, knew that you were right on the brink, and he smirked as he pulled out of you. "it's too bad that you won't get to come tonight."

he then yanked on the tie that gagged you, casting it behind him as he crawled on top of you. in a matter of seconds, his hand was sliding his aching member down your throat. your mouth was stuffed with him, even though it was still sore from the tie. the corners of your lips burned as he began to fuck your face, balls slapping against your chin as he forced you to take all of him down your airway.

tears brimmed in your eyes as he now held your head in place with both of his hands, and you gagged around him. you struggled for air, but you couldn't bring yourself to care as you looked up at klaus with your big doe eyes.

he was biting his lip, fingers threading through your hair and tugging as he brought himself to his orgasm. he let out a groan, his hips starting to stutter as he let the hot ropes of his cum slide down the back of your throat. you could see his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath, and he pulled out of you slowly. he looked down at you once more, his thumb stroking over your wet lips.

he went to speak, but he was cut off when he heard you breathe out what sounded like a spell. he knew he'd heard you correctly when the ties that bound you to the bed gave out instantly. your limbs sprang free, and as soon as you could, you pushed klaus beneath you and used your magic to restrain his own hands. you also gagged him with the tie he'd used on your mouth, and you could see the fury in his eyes.

he mumbled something through the tie, much like you had earlier, and his frustration bled through his barely-formed words.

“i could tell you really needed that, so i let you have your fun. but now…” you paused, your hand coming up to his throat, “it’s my turn to take what i want.”

~

klaus tag list (join here!): @princess-charming-01 @maybankslover @trenchmaniac @techlipse @the-kaya-aa @catmikaelson20 @hopesdadswife @amournoir @skydisneylover @kittyqrt @Iluvniklaus @diyabhanushali1 @your_best_hoe

[prolix-yuy]

Plus One

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader "Ms Jackson"

Summary: It's Ms Jackson's company holiday party, and Frankie makes his debut.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, references to past escort work, semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism kink, references to oral sex and anal play, unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), spanking, possessive play, little bit of brattiness, Frankie is too damn hot and Ms J is gonna make him pay for it (in the best way).

Notes: Here's my (slightly late) SW!Frankie Christmas story! This is dedicated to @lowlights for saying "All I want for Christmas is SW!Frankie" and I couldn't resist giving her exactly that. She also picked Frankie's holiday party outfit, which is absolute perfection and I would climb him like a tree if he showed up in this fit.

Takes place after Callback.

Cross-posted on AO3

Sex Worker!Frankie AU Masterlist

The internal monologue running in the back of your mind comments on the tasteful decor, how the poinsettias and fake candles and red and green tablecloths really dress up the restaurant. The thought that “HR did a really nice job” skitters through your mind, and the warm scent of cider and mulled wine and store-bought cookies all envelops you in a nostalgic holiday mood.

Well, it would, but on the other hand this holiday party might actually kill you. Honestly. And yet you have to pretend that you’re not dying inside, a calm smile on your face while you fight back against the urge to scream.

It all started with an email.

Hi Team!

It’s that time of year again - our annual holiday party! Please join us for appetizers and drinks at Lesandro’s at 6pm Friday, December 23rd. If you want to enter the raffle for a special prize, please email Alison for a ticket.

This was all fine and dandy until you got to the next line.

Plus ones are welcome!

You shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s not the first time your office has extended invites to partners. You had brought your ex-husband in the past, the brief sting of the memory flitting through your mind. It was to be expected every year, a night to enjoy yourselves on the company’s dime in lieu of bonuses. 

You would gladly accept a check rather than the cocktails and finger foods, but you weren’t not on the planning committee. 

A little tremor of excitement over that line lightened your spirits for the rest of the day. Thinking of Frankie schmoozing with your coworkers made a smile come to your face, and his solid comfort being by your side actually made you look forward to the event. The scales tipped more towards anxiety when you walked into your home, Frankie coming down the stairs with damp hair.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, a quick squeeze of a hug before heading to your car for groceries. Worrying at your lower lip, you waited until you were both in the kitchen sorting produce before you spoke up.

“I’ve got a company party coming up in a couple weeks,” you said, toppling a few apples onto the counter.

“You’ll be out late?” Frankie asked, dumping fruit into a colander in the sink. The running tap let you take your time with your response.

“Actually, I can bring a plus one,” you tried to say breezily, rolling a stray lemon under your palm. It grounded you as Frankie turned to you. “If you want to come,” you added at the end. When his pause went on too long you hazarded a look up at him. He was smiling in that somewhat exasperated way that let you know you’d been overthinking again.

“Why wouldn’t I want to come? Maybe I can guess which one of those girls steals your yogurt on Wednesdays.” The remark made you giggle, leaning back against the counter as Frankie’s mischievous eyes eased your tension.

“I don’t know, I built it up in my head, asking you.” You shrugged, voice getting a little softer. “My ex never liked going to these things. Complained for weeks before and after, then would barely talk to me when we were there.” You shifted, crossing your arms over your chest. It wasn’t the first time you’d talked about your past relationships with Frankie, but having to feel the grief, the sickness in the pit of your stomach, the tension of revising those memories still made you want to crawl out of your own skin. Frankie’s hands, heavy and soothing, wrapped around your biceps.

“If you want me there, I’m there,” he said, rubbing your arms with a reassuring smile. You nodded, letting your forehead drop against his shoulder when he stepped closer. Sucking a deep breath in, Frankie’s clean musk and fresh soap smell released the tight muscles in your jaw. “Where are they having it?”

“Lesandro’s.”

“Oh, so it’s like, a nice party,” Frankie mused, hand kneading at the back of your neck where you held much of your stress. You melted into the massage, pressing your cheek to his plush chest.

“Eh, we come from the office, you don’t have to dress up,” you mumbled into his worn t-shirt. He hummed in response.

“Could be fun, though,” he said, working his thumb into the meat of your shoulders. “Dressing up for it. I’d like to make a good first impression.” 

Leaning back, you raised an eyebrow at Frankie.

“Oh really?”

He blushed, and you thought your heart might explode at the sight. Slipping your fingers into the wisps of gray-brown hair at the nape of his neck, you swayed against your boyfriend.

“Then bring your A-game, handsome.”

Which is why you’re standing here now, close to literally exploding.

Because when Frankie texted to tell you he was here, you didn’t expect what walked in the door.

First of all, no Standard Oil hat. You didn’t expect him to wear it, but it’s such a part of himself now you forget he can go without it. He styled his hair loose and curling, not a wild mane but controlled wisps that flick out around his ears and bounce along his forehead. Little glints of silver you refuse to let him cover up at a salon catch the glittering lights in the restaurant. He’s wearing a white button-up, the top two buttons open to bare a delicious vee of tan skin around his throat. He clearly wasn’t patient enough with the sleeves, though, because he’s rolled them up around his elbows, accenting his strong forearms. You’ve never seen the pants he’s wearing, some sort of dark blue-black slacks that hug his trim hips perfectly before descending to black leather monkstrap shoes. 

And he’s wearing his fucking glasses.

Your cunt throbs at the sight.

He searches the crowd, the smile that breaks out when you lock eyes making your legs weak. He weaves his way through your coworkers, a few watching him curiously as he scoots by. Once he’s made it to you, a hand on your lower back and a kiss to your cheek, the eyes that followed him now land on you. The pride this swells in your chest makes you giddy.

“Have I missed all the food?” Frankie asks in your ear, your response a shaken head. He mock-sighs in relief before Cindy strides up to you both, ever the nosy one. Her smile is too big, hand outstretched to Frankie.

“And who have we here?” she asks, eyes flitting between you both. You brim with a little more pride when Frankie takes her hand, giving her a kind but firm handshake.

“Francisco Morales, the boyfriend,” he says with a little jest in his voice, Cindy laughing louder than necessary. 

This is the theme of the night, Frankie approached by coworkers and chatting his way through the first impressions. You smile and schmooze along with him, but inside marvel over how smooth he is. The perfectly timed jokes, the attentive smiles. As Cindy (and some people you’ve never even met) approach and leave, he knows exactly how to engage and play off their differing personalities. Giving space to the chatterbugs, coaxing conversation from the quiet ones, engaging in interests and offering his opinions. 

“This won’t be my first time in a room full of strangers with high expectations,” Frankie had said a few days before when you offered him an out on the party. The implication flew over your head until he added, “I’ve been hired as an escort too.” 

The revelation led to another one of those matter-of-fact conversations that were so fascinating with Frankie. He talked about sex work (and escorting, in this case) with no more emotional attachment than discussing what cars he worked on.

“I did a charity event once, older woman who wanted a younger man on her arm but didn’t want to look pathetic.”

“A girl had a bodyguard fantasy we played out at the Plaza. One of the nicest hotel rooms I’ve worked in.”

“You learn a lot by acting like the trophy, and people will tell you the wildest shit if you just listen.”

All of these skills were in action now as you watched him listen to someone from customer support discussing chatbot services. The second glass of champagne in your hand is warming under your fingers but you barely notice because this is a Frankie you rarely see. He’s in an element that’s foreign to you, used to his soft competency and attention and now witnessing his surety, his confidence, his ease at shifting into exactly what everyone wants.

Even the moments when you feel a stab of jealousy - Debbie touching his arm when he makes a joke, how he gives everyone his undivided attention - he always makes his way back to you. His hand rests on your lower back,  pulling you into conversations when you’re being edged out. And when you’re leading, having a discussion with a coworker, he listens closely by your side and nods along, even if you know he’s lost as to the topic.

It’s turning you on way more than you want to admit. 

The party is grating on your nerves after an hour and a half, your brain screaming at you to leave. Listening to Carl complain about the cost of events planning pales in comparison to showing Frankie exactly how much he’s been affecting you all night. The ache only worsens when you catch a glimpse of his profile, smiley and easygoing, as his shirt gapes to reveal no undershirt underneath. You could slip your fingers inside and drag them along the smooth expanse of skin there, before slipping them down to pop every button open as you descend lower and lower…

“Your man not dress up for you much?”

Erica, one of your favorite coworkers and confidant, sidles up next to you as Frankie tries to leave a conversation by the drinks table, two glasses in hand. Your face heats up as you fan yourself surreptitiously with a napkin.

“Mmmhmmm, okay no need to answer that one for me. Boss left ten minutes ago, go get your man out of here before Johnson bores him to death,” she murmurs, giving you an approving look before going back to her lost-looking husband. Her revelation, coupled with your increasing need, rockets you across the room to Frankie’s relieved face.

“Sorry Johnson, I need Frankie for a minute. Nice seeing you!” you rush out, depositing Frankie’s proffered glasses on a waiter’s tray. Hands free, you tug Frankie to the exit, his voice lost in the rush of blood to your ears. 

Out of the stuffy room and into the cooler night, Frankie huffs in surprise when you push him back against the building’s exterior and steal a heated kiss, a quick press of the lips preceding your tongue pressing into his mouth, stifling his moan with your own. Taking the hint, he pulls your hips flush with his, attacking your mouth with as much fervor as you’re giving. His teeth scrape against your tongue, letting you grind him against the concrete wall before he spins you to switch places.

“You had to wear the fucking glasses,” you gasp when he pulls back enough to nibble along your jaw. 

“Thought they’d make me look smarter,” he whispers in your ear, palming one breast with the broad expanse of his hand. You mewl under the attention, mind hazily realizing you’re way too out in the open to be getting groped so thoroughly. 

“Thought you’d ruin my panties is more like it,” you hiss back, spreading your legs to invite him between them. He shakes his head against your neck.

“Not here, let me take you home and take my time,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear. The whine you squeeze out surprises you both, “needy little thing” the next words that Frankie drips against your skin. 

“C’mon Frankie, feel how wrecked you made me,” you goad, the roll of his hips against your core revealing Frankie’s desire as plainly as your own. Stealing a glance towards the front door, he slides a hand under your skirt and swiftly pulls your panties to the side, sliding two fingers through the slick mess.

“Fuck, baby, all this for me?” he asks, and the buck of your hips against his hand slides his fingertips inside you shallowly. He growls in your ear, that feral noise that makes you want to push him until he snaps and takes from you. Pulling you away from the wall, he sucks his wet fingers into his mouth with a flash of darkness in his eyes.

“Get in the truck, we’re going,” he says quickly, his stride longer and faster paced than usual. His own need mirroring yours makes a wicked idea bloom in your lust-addled mind. It would get you into some trouble, but the reward would be as good as the punishment. Maybe better.

Frankie buckles in and drives you swiftly out of the parking lot, your house only a twenty minute trip from Lesandro’s. Twenty long, aching minutes with Frankie so close you can almost taste him. You need to taste him.

Palming his hard cock through the slacks earns you a groan and a swat at your hand, Frankie’s knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

“Baby, stop, I need to get us home. You can last twenty minutes,” he admonishes, which only mounts your need. Another long stroke, another warning, and you’re popping the top button of his pants open. He says your name now, hand coming to wrap around your wrist as you slide his zipper down.

“Please, Frankie, just let me taste you. I’ll be good, I promise,” you beg, one hand slipped under your own skirt and sliding through your slick. “You got me so worked up, I just want to make you feel good.” Leaning over you blow a puff of hot air onto his cock, still straining against his boxer briefs. A string of curses fall from his lips as you mouth him, wetting the cotton with your tongue.

“Fuck, you just can’t wait, can you? Okay, baby, okay, but you can’t…you can’t suck me off, I’ll crash the fucking truck if you try. Just hold me in your mouth if you need it that bad,” Frankie gasps, the words finally allowing you to slip his cock from its confines and into your hot mouth. He groans loud at your heat engulfing him, your clever fingers finding your clit and stroking quick circles as you try your best to follow his rules. But Frankie is large and thick in your mouth. You can’t help sliding back up to adjust your jaw wider. Or when you slide back down your tongue flattens against the underside, lapping at the thick vein. That’s just a force of habit. 

When you hum at the feeling of his head brushing the back of your throat, you can’t help but admit that you’re doing it on purpose.

“Fucking Christ,” Frankie swears, and you feel the car move from asphalt to dirt before coming to an abrupt stop. You slide your lips up and off his cock to ask why he stopped, but Frankie is already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you up to his mouth. He crashes his lips against yours, holding you in place with one firm hand on the back of your neck. 

“Little tease,” he purrs, and the rush of heat to your cunt has you arching into his chest, burying your wet fingers in his hair. “I was going to take you home, spread you out on our bed and make you cum so many times you’d lose your voice.” Frankie’s thick fingers pinch your jaw, widening it so he can delve deeper with his tongue. You’re practically dripping on the bench seat, trying to move to your back but he holds you there, and the roughness of his touch makes your body thrum like a live wire.

“Was going to lick this pretty pussy until you came on my face, then flip you over and do it again. Maybe even tease your perfect little asshole,” he continues, your heart hammering in your chest as he pushes your arousal higher and higher. “Then I was going to make you cum around three fingers. Get you to squirt for me.” 

“Frankie, fuck, please…” you whine, hips rocking against nothing, but he wraps his hands around them and bumps your noses together.

“Oh I’d have you begging by then too, but no, you couldn’t behave. Couldn’t wait the twenty minutes to get you home.” Your world spins as Frankie turns you to face away from him, pulling your ass tight against his hips. Heat blooms along your chest and face when you realize you’ve pushed him enough to lead to this.

“So you’re getting what you wanted, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you, needy little thing. Gonna give you my cock and you’re gonna take it just like this.” With that he flips your skirt up over your ass and slides his cock through your slick. Your jaw drops open; the truck is barely off the road, hidden by a few overhanging trees and a lack of streetlights but still very visible to another car passing by. Thighs trembling, you try to steady your breathing. It’s dangerous and mollifying, exhilarating and terrifying. 

“You know what to say if you don’t want this,” Frankie murmurs in your ear, gentler than before. You do, you know the colors and the words that will slow Frankie down. But like hell do you want that right now.

“Green, handsome,” you shoot back, wiggling your butt against him. He chuckles darkly, guiding your hips to slide his cock over your clit. 

“Then put your hands on the door,” he says, nudging you forward to brace yourself against the passenger door. Knocking your knees apart, Frankie’s bulk settles against your ass before his thick head begins breaching you.

Eyes rolling back and your mouth open in a silent moan, you savor the girth of Frankie’s cock with no preparation. You’re so slick and yielding, but he always stretches you to your limits. Even as he fucks shallowly into you, getting you used to him, you beg for more.

“Please Frankie, fuck me, want you to wreck me, been wanting you inside me all night,” you groan, pushing back to bury him deep inside, grinding the base of his cock to tease your throbbing clit. Frankie’s hands tighten around your hips, and with a sharp snap that knocks a gasp out of you as he sets a powerful pace. 

The truck cabin fills with the lewd sound of Frankie’s fat cock fucking into your wet cunt, his guttural moans mixing with your higher ones. When you look behind you, Frankie’s baring his teeth and puffing air through his nose, curls sticking to the sweat at his temples.

“This what you need, beautiful? Needed me to pound this pussy until you can’t think? Needed me to claim what’s mine?” His filthy words hit a chord deep inside you didn’t know existed until he spoke it into life. You roll your hips back against him, leveraging your thrusts with your hands on the door.

“Yes Frankie, need you to fucking take me, make me yours, take what you want, I want everyone to know I’m yours,” you babble. A sudden crack of skin on skin makes you cry out, flooding your cunt with arousal. Frankie soothes the red handprint on your ass before tapping his fingers along it. 

“Fuck, baby, you like that?” he moans as you nod vigorously in response. “Yeah, I can feel how much you liked that. Take it,” he orders before he slaps your other cheek, admiring how your movements get sloppier as you writhe in pleasure. “Mine,” he growls, another gentler slap. “Mine,” he pants as he yanks you back and pushes your chest to the seat, arching your ass up high for him to keep pounding into. “Mine,” he growls into your ear when he folds over your body, his thrusts shortening but hitting that powerful spot, tightening you around his cock.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, I can feel it, you’re so close. Cum on me baby, I’m…fuck, I’m yours,” Frankie gasps, the possessiveness now curling in your own heart as you listen to him rail you within an inch of your sanity while repeating “yours” under his breath. 

“Frankie, please…” you ask, not sure of what you need but he nods against your spine. Threading his fingers between yours, he slides his other hand to your clit and strums it fast and hard, the intensity throwing you off the edge of your impending orgasm. 

With a muffled shriek you cum, feet scuffling against the leather seats and your hips bucking beneath Frankie’s weight. He holds you down, guiding you through it as he works his cock slowly through the grip of your channel. When the aftershocks subside, Frankie pumps into you a handful of times, then pulls out to spill on your ass with staccato moans. 

For a long moment the truck is filled with gasping breaths, Frankie using your own skirt to wipe up his spend. When his heat disappears you prop yourself up to catch him leaning against the driver door, legs splayed and his head tipped against the cool glass, chest heaving. It takes a moment to rearrange your limbs but you finally slide between his legs and rest your head against his chest. His arms come up to cradle you there, stroking your back. You enjoy the silence, the comforting cadence of Frankie’s breathing bringing you back down.

“Was that too much?” he asks, a little apprehension in his voice. “I know we don’t go down that kind of path often…”

“Frankie, that was fucking amazing,” you soothe, grinning into his chest. “And I instigated that, I knew what I was asking for. Though you did almost make me end it with that plan you laid out.”

“Oh did I?”

“Very tempting.”

“You made your choice.”

You both laugh a little, the glow of the truck’s clock reminding you of the late hour. But Frankie has one more question to air in the dark.

“You weren’t jealous tonight, were you?” he asks, tucking his chin to look at you. “Because nobody in that room held a candle to you tonight. Or any night. I’m yours, babe,” he says, stroking his thumb along your cheek. The love that blooms in your chest is all the answer you need, but you’ll still say it.

“I loved being yours tonight. And every night.”

After getting back on the road, Frankie hums thoughtfully.

“If you wanted to do that every now and then…” he says tentatively, drawing your attention to his stunning profile. “You know, tease me, get me riled up, I’d be into that.” 

A wicked smile curls your lips, half hidden in the dark.

“You like it when I rile you up?” you ask, leading Frankie’s hand back between your legs. You could find the energy for another round, your folds still soft and dripping. He gives you a look like he could devour you whole.

“I like it when I can show you you’re mine,” he rumbles, cupping your sex as the minutes until you’re home tick by.

“Show me again, then.”

END

The story continues in Frankie's First Time

[harrystylescherry]

tis the damn season vol. 2 SNIPPET

A/N: yes, you did in fact read that correctly. there will be a vol. 2 of tis the damn season...NOT part 2, but VOLUME 2. Meaning, this is not a continuation, or a kind of epilogue, but a whole other scenario. with a different character, in a different universe, but connected by the premise of miss swift's song...bc it is my favorite holiday tune. this will probably be posted around new years, so see you then!

read tis the damn season!

It was the Wednesday before Christmas, and the pub was empty—just how Harry liked it. This year, the holiday was on a weekend, which meant the crowd of school-days-past wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow at the earliest, semi-finishing out their work weeks.

Harry had been in Chesire for a week already, lazy-ing around his mum’s house and patiently waiting for his sister to come from London (she’d be part of the hoard arriving tomorrow). His mum was out for the night, at a holiday party she had with her friends every year. She had invited him along, but that week, he had already crashed a lunch and a festive dinner. The idea of round three felt pathetic.

His cousins were Christmas shopping for their baby—and it’s not that Harry didn’t want to join them, he just knew that it wasn’t the kind of shopping he was into. It was mission-based. Harry preferred the kind of shopping day that took hours and ended with a nice meal—whether or not he completed his list didn’t matter. It was the spirit of it.

So, he was alone. In a pub he frequented every time he came back. They had decorated for the holiday, with the top shelf of the bar lined with stockings that had the staff’s names written on—there were a few he didn’t recognize from the year before. It sat uncomfortably on his chest. He should make more time to visit home—because that’s what it still was to him. It didn’t matter where his house was, that he had spent more months in LA and New York alone (mostly) than he did his mum’s house. They weren’t the same, devoid of that special warmth and love that hit him each time he opened the heavy, oak door.

Garland hung around the perimeter of the room, from the ceiling, and also draped beneath the bar. Poinsettias (which he hated) filled vases on shelves that usually housed more appealing faux bouquets. He did like, however, the Christmas lights strung along the ceiling and wrapped around the posts throughout the space. It made it all quite cozy.

“Thanks, Gerry,” Harry said as he took his pint from across the bar.

The pub door opened, and with it came a gust of cold hair.

“Aye, it’s the new girl,” Gerry called across the bar to the other tender, his younger brother Tommy.

Harry turned just in time to see the smirk on the face of the supposed newcomer. He wasn’t sure if the chill that moved through him was from the burst of cold or the energy that radiated from her. She was completely bundled up, from her big boots to her bright red beanie.

She plucked it off by its pom-pom and dropped it onto the bar top, only five seats down from Harry. “Not new, temporary,” she said.

“Only ‘cause we haven’t won you over yet. Just wait, you won’t dream of leavin’ by time we’re done with you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and unwound the pink and red striped scarf from her neck. She draped it over the seat next to her, then peeled off her coat, revealing long, dark hair that had been tucked down her back.

She was pretty. Harry could tell just from her profile. From her voice. Her nose was suited for a fairy and her cheeks were round—stained pink from the wind.

“The usual?” Tommy asked.

“Please,” she said as she pulled the sleeves of her cream sweater over her hands and fought off a shiver.

“Hi.”

Harry jolted out of his trance and flushed with embarrassment at being caught staring.

“I’m Rosie.” She smiled.

“Harry.”

“I know.” The smirk was back, and he thought, seeing her face so clearly now, it made her look even more beautiful. If that was even possible.

“Right.” He looked down and spun his glass on its coaster,

He heard her thank Tommy for whatever her usual was and listened as they fell into easy, friendly conversation.

“Care to join us?”

He looked up and was met with her smile, and expectant looks from the boys who stood on the other side of the bar, their own drinks in their hands.

“Uh, yeah, why not?”

Harry moved down until they were only a seat apart.

“Rosie’s from London,” Tommy supplied. “Like you.”

“No, technically, Harry’s from here,” Gerry corrected.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Are you visiting family?” Harry cut him off. “For Christmas?”

“Uh, no,” she said with a scrunch of her nose. Harry left her room to elaborate, but she didn’t.

“Rosie’s a writer,” Gerry offered, before taking a sip of his beer. She blushed behind the curtain of her hair.

This was how his small village operated. A new person meant new information, new stories to pass around and gossip about. It didn’t matter if that person was sitting right in front of them. It was charming, but also terrifying. Especially if the stories making the rounds about you weren’t exactly tame, or inconsequential, or PG-13.

“Is she?” He asked, his eyes looking over her.

“I write novels for young adults. Well, I wrote one novel. I’m working on the second. Supposed to be, anyway.”

“S’why she’s here.” Tommy supplied before downing the rest of his glass, just as the pub door opened again.

“Is it?” He was aware that his attempts to flirt right now were abysmal, but he didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to talk to her, not Tommy. He wanted to pry and tease and slide into the seat next to her, but he couldn’t do that with them watching so closely. The things the town would say about that...so these redundant questions were all he had.

“Sort of.” That was all she offered before taking a sip from the glass of white wine in front of her.

[ghulehunknown]

Papa Headcanons - Holiday Edition! 🎄❄️🎁☃️

WARNING - mild NSFW: rated PG-13 for adult themes, but mostly fluff

How do you imagine the Papas spend that special holiday? My headcanons of the Papas’ holiday gift giving and other traditions.

Primo

Plants a very special plant he knows you like - different colored roses, or a poinsettia then surprises you with it on Christmas morning

Also takes the time to knit you a scarf that has your favorite colors

Wants to spend quality family time with his brothers before/while diving into presents and a big holiday dinner

Wants to bake cookies with you

Enjoys watching Christmas movies all bundled up with you in the matching fuzzy robes and slippers he got the both of you

Makes sure you feel loved and appreciated on this special day

Falls asleep while sipping on hot chocolate or tea in front of the TV

Secondo

Buys you some very nice jewelry

He’ll plan a vacation to the Bahamas or somewhere warm and you’re leaving the day after Christmas!

For Christmas Day he’s happy just to open presents, bake cookies, and watch movies with his loved ones

He’s not a fan of Hallmark movies but watches them with you because you love them

Plans an extravagant meal with all the Clergy members

Wants to go ice skating with you (mostly so he can guide you along by touching your waist the entire time)

Terzo

He’s horny 24/7/365 but something about the holidays gives him that extra warm feeling

Has definitely put his dick in a box and wrapped it. When you take the lid off the box, there’s a bow around his dick

He’s probably also put mistletoe around his dick and asked you to kiss it (for a visual of this, you can read my fic of this exact scenario complete with artwork!)

Says that He Is the present

Buys you sex toys, but also other things, most of them not practical in the slightest

He LOVES opening presents. “Ooh what did you get me?”

He’s proud of the presents he got you too, although half of them are basically for him anyway (he’s totally stealing the gel manicure set and skincare items and the soft blanket he got you)

Makes you feel so loved that you hardly care about presents and all your holiday stress melts away

He loves those silly Hallmark movies and wants to watch them with you unironically

Fuck Christmas pajamas, you’re going to be naked in bed with him most of the day

But when he does have to be up and around, he’s wearing comfy PJ bottoms with fuzzy socks

Makes lots of sexual Christmas innuendo/puns like how he’s going to be coming down your chimney or something

Copia

His gifts are usually the most thoughtful

Pays attention to your interests and gives you something based on that

Wears a cute matching PJ set, and gets you one to match him

He’s so excited to watch you open the gifts he got you and to show you how each electronic thing works (even if it’s just a pair of headphones). It’s sweet how attentive he is so you let him show you even though you already know how it all works

Wants to bake cookies with you

Assuming there’s a white Christmas he insists on sledding after opening presents

Carries mistletoe around just to have an excuse to kiss you throughout the day (“And eheh, other things later,” he says)

Nihil

Gets everyone gift cards

Loves Christmas crackers

If he branches out it’s usually something practical like kitchenware or a vacuum

He prides himself on finding the best Hallmark card around because they always profess love better than he can communicate

Falls asleep on the couch watching classics like “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “White Christmas” because that’s what reminds him of his youth

Eats the cookies you bake

[theaceofarrows]

Reasons why I think a TOH Christmas special would have been amazing⬇🎄🦉

The chaos of Luz explaining the holiday and all that it entails

Willow, Gus and Hunter make an elaborate overly complicated plan to capture the mysterious Santa Claus because he "breaks into people's houses while they sleep, Luz! That can't be good!"

Lumity struggling to come up with the perfect gifts for each other, and then on Christmas morning they both say how spending Christmas with each other is already the best gift that they could ask for

All the kids getting together to make/buy Camila a special gift to show how grateful they are for her

Vee baking Christmas cookies non stop, and trying to teach the others how to bake

Decorating the most outlandish Christmas tree in all of Connecticut

Hunter not understanding why everyone keeps calling his "amazing" new sweater ugly

Amity going for the sick goth girl Christmas aesthetic™

Willow growing poinsettias and holly

Camila getting all the kids a personalized stocking

Gus doing all kinds of research on Christmas traditions from all over the world aka Krampus is now on the capture list with Santa Claus

Palisman wearing little Santa and elf hats

SNOWBALL FIGHT❄

Snowman building compaction; some of the snowmen look more like biped demons⛄

Christmas movie marathon. The Nightmare before Christmas is a big hit

Going out to look at Christmas lights

Willow taking all kinds of adorable pictures

Demon Realm worthy renditions of classic Christmas songs; Gus really likes The Alvin And The Chipmunks

A big chaotic trip to the mall for Christmas presents that ends with almost being escorted out by security

Just them all being one big happy found family enjoying something special together

Feel free to add to this!

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Yesterday was the art show I spent sixteen very busy days preparing for, and I'm happy to say it went well!

It was a smaller art show than others I've typically seen, but I can't say making around $119 in five hours was a bad sale!

This was definitely a good learning experience! Next year, I may just sign up to do a bigger farmer's market now that I know what works, what doesn't, and what I need to add, or do differently! (Next art/craft show I know to be sure to have bags to offer for customer purchases.)

Lots of people loved the pumpkins; many said the micro pumpkins were super cute, probably got the most compliments on those. 🥰 Many admired the blankets too, with one kid giving me a pretty big compliment by laying his head on each of them to feel how soft they were! Can't say I blame him; they are pretty cozy!

Good thing I washed the blankets before the art show, with plans to wash the ones that made it home with me after, haha.

After making 140 pumpkins, I am so ready to try my hands at something new, or make more blankets for a while. Probably more seasonal stuff, too. Mini Christmas wreaths, pinecones, Christmas trees, poinsettias, things like that! ✨

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY Christmas Tales

A Feast for Kings

Yang: Jaune! Quick! I can't find my dress! *runs all over the house*

Jaune: Woah, woah there! *gently grabs Yang* What's going on?

Yang: I can't find my dress! I've been looking all day for it and it's gone missing! I even tore up our mattress to see if it was under there.

Jaune: You mean this dress? The one you're holding in your hand right now?

Yang: ...oh. *chuckles*

Jaune: Are you okay, babe?

Yang: Yeah... I guess I'm just a little bit nervous. Arthur's coming to dinner and I want everything to be perfect.

Jaune: *chuckles* You don't have to worry about that. He's seeing us, not the King of Vale. We're his friends. I'm sure he'll appreciate the dinner and the gift.

Yang: You think so?

Jaune: I do. Don't forget, I was his Master at one point. Still, we can't give him some basic Christmas dinner. We need to show him how we do it Arc-Long style.

Yang: *nods excitedly* That we do! Shall I bring the reinforcements?

Jaune: Make the call, soldier!

[20 minutes later]

Jaune: *opens the door*

Ruby/Oscar: *saluting* Ruby and Oscar reporting for duty, sir!

Jaune: At ease, soldiers! Now then, did you bring what I asked for.

Ruby: *shows bag* All here!

Yang: Alright everyone, battle stations! Each of us is gonna make a signature dish. Ruby what do you have?

Ruby: Garlic rolls, with my own butter, pigs in blankets, and a cranberry apple salad!

Yang: Nice one! Honey, what do you have.

Jaune: Our ever so awesome roasted duck, with a side of potatoes, parsnips and carrots.

Yang: And now for the best part, dessert! What have you got for us, Oscar?

Oscar: *smirks* Strawberry cheesecake!

Jaune: Excellent! *puts on apron* Ladies and gentleman, let's get cooking!

[2 hours later]

Jaune, Yang, Ruby and Oscar, now dressed up in their suits and dresses, prepared the table for the arrival of their guests. As soon as Ruby placed a poinsettia in the vase, the doorbell rang. Jaune opened it and found Arthur Pendragon standing alongside Robyn Hill and Mordred.

Jaune: Arthur, you made it!

Arthur: *chuckles* Good to see, Jaune. Merry Christmas. *hugs him*

Jaune: *hugs back* You too man! Merry Christmas!

Yang: It's great to see you again, Arthur.

Arthur: You too. Oh, me and Robyn have something for you.

Robyn; *hands Yang a present*

Yang: Aww, you shouldn't have. Thank you so much!

Mordred: Ruby, Oscar, I got something for you guys too. *hands them two long boxes*

Ruby: *jumps with excitement* Oh my god! I can't wait to see what it is!

Oscar: Now, now, Ruby. Wait until after dinner.

Ruby: But-

Yang: Come on, sis. Patience is a virtue.

Ruby: Hmph! *pouts*

Jaune: Now that you're here, let's get started on the appetisers.

Robyn: Oh don't go through so much trouble.

Jaune: Oh don't worry. Come on, everything's hot. We got a lovely apple and cranberry salad, pigs and blankets and- gah! What happened to the garlic rolls?

Ruby: What?!

Everyone rushed over to the table and saw that the garlic rolls had gone, including the plate.

Ruby: ...I worked so hard.

Oscar: There, there. *hugs Ruby* It'll be okay.

Jaune: How did they just vanish like that?

Yang: Guys, look! *points to an open window*

Mordred: Wait, was that open the whole time?

Arthur: Who'd be that crafty to steal garlic bread unseen?

[Outside]

Ren: *sneaks behind the tree*

Blake: Did you bring what I asked for?

Ren: *shows garlic rolls* It's all here.

Blake: *licks lips* Excellent.

[thezombieprostitute]

Music in the Air

A/N: Written for Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge (@sstan-hoe). Reader is implied fem, "girls like me". No physical descriptors used.

Prompts: Bucky Barnes - My house, my rules. The Christmas music stays on.

Summary: You and Bucky discuss poinsettias.

Bucky's arm was having problems. Again. In all the years he had the arm he never really got to understand how it worked. He could figure out how to fix a lot of things, but his arm wasn't one of them. That's why he was glad he had you to turn to. You had quickly become his go-to engineer in the Avengers Tower. You were a rare and delightful combination of "not afraid of him" and "not overly friendly". You would smile, but let him initiate the conversation when he wanted.

At least, normally you were his favorite. Ever since December started you only every played Christmas music in your lab. He was still trying to get used to how much the holiday had changed and the music was, well, a lot. Especially when you were always listening to some kind of heavy metal Christmas music and he had only ever heard Christmas music sung a capella or maybe a church organ.

"Do you really need to listen to that music all the time?"

You smiled while working, "I did the respectful thing and waited until December before I started listening."

"Yeah, but it's just so..." he struggled to find the words.

"Non-traditional?"

"Jarring."

"Well, Sergeant Barnes," you reply, setting your tools down, "My house, my rules. The Christmas music stays on. However, I am willing to switch it for something that's maybe a little more your speed."

You walk over to your laptop and open up your playlist. It takes you a minute, but you finally find the song you're looking for and press the play button. As the speakers sing a lighter, slower tune, you turn back to Bucky, "you should be grateful. I don't turn off Trans Siberian Orchestra for just anyone."

Bucky blushed as he smiled, listening to the song. It was very different from what you had been listening to. For a start, there were lyrics. They told the story of a poinsettia named Percy and how had been overlooked and abandoned but grew and shone when given love. He almost smacked himself for having empathy for an imaginary plant.

To distract himself he said, "I'm surprised you like this song. It's so different from what you were listening to before."

You smile and respond, "it's a childhood favorite. This song just really hit my heart in a way no other Christmas song did. It stuck with me so much that, even in college if I saw my flowers for sale that were wilting or on their last legs, I'd buy them. Just to make sure they had love before they fully wilted."

Bucky looked at you with a softness in his eyes before you shook your head, "I know, it's stupid. I was an adult, I should've known better but some things just stick with you, you know?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "I know. Did you stop buying flowers because you kept getting them from dates or something?"

You chuckle, "I stopped because I had to prioritize my budget. I can't remember the last time I had flowers in my apartment. But thank you for the compliment."

"What do you mean? The guys you date don't give you flowers?"

"Girls like me don't get dates, Sergeant. I'm not whatever enough for guys to ask me out. Whether it's my size, my intelligence, my hobbies, there's just always something that keeps guys from asking me out, let alone bringing me flowers. But, again, thank you for the compliment."

You set down your tools and start putting them away, "your arm is all patched up. Hope this fix lasts you at least through the end of the year. I've got a lot of projects to finish up before the end of the year so I might not have the time to take care of you."

"You're not staying here for Christmas, are you?"

"I am," you nod. "My family celebrates holidays on days that aren't the day of so that we can avoid traffic and last-minute shoppers. So I set up an office lunch for the people who either don't celebrate, have nowhere to go, or whatever other reasons. Mr. Stark has been very generous with the budget for that."

"I'm glad you won't be alone on Christmas," he gives you a gentle smile.

"How about you," you ask. "You're welcome to join us if you'd like."

"Sam is insisting on taking me to Louisiana," he replies.

"Good," you assert. "I'm very glad you also won't be alone on Christmas."

You really shouldn't have been surprised to see the poinsettia on your desk the next day. There was no note, but you suspected. It wasn't very big and it had started wilting, but you loved it nonetheless. You gently hugged the plant and promised to give it the best of care for as long as it needed. After a week it was like a brand new plant, bright and strong. Doesn't hurt that you asked the biolab techs for help and resources.

It made Bucky's year to see how big your smile was, watching your poinsettia grow and how much you clearly loved it. It took him a while after to gather his courage and ask you on a date but your quick "yes" reassured him. Neither of you would ever be alone on Christmas.