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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 years ago

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This evening has been so very nice

AN: Hello folks! After the chaos of Kinktober I’ve been taking a little break, but also working on this for the Thot Neighbourhood Discord Server Secret Santa.

I drew @yarnforbrains - I hope you enjoy this, my darling Dani. This is my first time writing for the Moon Knight boys, so I hope I did them justice.

My prompts were Winter Wonderland, Lyrics from 'Baby it's cold outside' and a picture from a German Christmas Market.

NB- I have no experience with people with DID, but did a load of reading from this website

Beta’d by @sidepartskinnyjeans, Spanish help from @aquariusbarnes

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Moodboard by me

Masterlist

Relationships: Steven Grant x plus sized Reader, Marc Spector x plus sized Reader and Jake Lockley x plus sized Reader

Word count: 4k

CW: Fluff, drinking, PDA, explicit sexual content (Oral - F receiving, Rough PinV sex, unprotected sex, cum eating), swearing.

You hurried through the dark streets, your scarf flapping around your neck and your bobble hat pulled down tight on your head. As much as you loved this time of year, sometimes the cold got too much, even for you. However, you could almost feel the Christmas cheer seeping into you as you neared your destination, and therefore your boyfriend. Or was it boyfriends? You’d admit you still had a lot to learn about dating multiple members of a DID system.

The lights ahead of you were bright and you couldn’t help but smile as you walked into the hubbub of the German Christmas themed farmer’s market. Alongside the usual stalls selling honey, vegetables and homemade items there were gaily decorated huts selling mulled wines and ciders, strong german beers, bratwurst and an array of sweet treats. Lights were strung everywhere, carols played over speakers and children squealed as they went round and round on the vintage style carousel. You felt as though you’d stepped into a winter wonderland.

You turned in a circle, taking it all in, but also trying to find your boyfriend in the crowd, a near impossible feat it seemed. Pulling out your phone, you checked your messages, but there wasn’t a new one indicating where you should meet. With a small huff, you decided he could come to you. However, just as you were about to press send on your message for him to meet you in front of the singing moose, a pair of hands covered your eyes from behind.

“Oi-oi, saveloy!”

You spun around with a squeal and threw your arms around his neck.

“Steven!”

You were happy to see the mild mannered alter. He was always so sweet to you. You pressed a kiss to his lips and smiled as a blush made its way up his neck and onto his cheeks. He got embarrassed easily with public displays of affection stronger than hand holding. It was cute.

“So you’re my date this evening then?”

“Yes. Well at the moment, anyhow. The lads and I had a chat and divvied up the night, so to speak…” He stopped speaking suddenly, looking at you earnestly, head tilted slightly to the side. “ I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

You beamed at him, cupping his face and rubbing your nose against his.

“It sounds great. Now, where are we off to first?” Steven twined your fingers together, kissed your knuckles and with a smile dragged you towards the carousel.The pair of you laughed and squealed just like the children from earlier as you bobbed up and down on your horses as the ride spun round and round.The cheerful organ music reminded you of the Christmas’ of your childhood, but the thing that made you giggle the most was Steven trying to get on and then off his horse, sliding on the smooth surface. He was adorably clumsy sometimes.

After the carousel you walked around the food stalls, your head leaning on Steven’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne. There was more laughter between you as you both chose foot long german sausages that hung out of the bun at each end, setting off immature fits of giggles from you both. It was impractical to eat them as you walked, so you managed to find a space in one of the market shelters, set up with trash cans and perching stools.

You both chatted about your days as you ate, taking it in turns to lean over and wipe mustard and ketchup off each other’s cheeks. When you sucked a bit of sauce off your thumb you saw a flash in his eye, which made you smile even more. While Steven looked quiet and demure from the outside, you knew how he could get if the mood took him. Although, that flash could easily have been either Marc or Jake coming briefly to the surface.

Napkins and cardboard trays thrown in the trash, you grabbed Steven’s hand.

“Let’s look at the stalls. I saw some cute wooden ornaments, and some snow globes.”

“Whatever you want, babes. Your wish is my command.” He made a dramatic bow in front of you, like a fairy tale prince, and you giggled once again. You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve such a handsome, sweet guy like Steven, but you thanked the universe daily.

After some retail therapy, where you’d managed to pick up a few gifts for family members, Steven steered you towards the sideshows.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun and excel at these, babes, but they’re not really my forte. Hate to love you and leave you.” He leant forward and pressed his lips to yours, in a soft and sweet kiss.

When the pressure against your mouth hardened slightly, becoming less sweet and more spicy, you knew that Marc had made his appearance.

Stepping back, you looked up into his eyes. Marc was ‘harder’ around the edges than Steven. He stood straighter, with more confidence in both his body and expression. Reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled out a baseball cap and set it atop his head, before sliding his arms around your waist and smiling down at you.

“Hey, baby. Have fun with Steven?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m all shopped out and full of hotdog, but if you wanted to win me the giant teddy bear, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Consider it won, Angel.”

He led you over to one of the stalls, a shooting game with battered bb rifles chained to the counter. The targets, bobbing up and down, and moving side to side at the back, were elves peeking out of boxes and reindeer flying across the sky. There were even a pair of black boots moving up and down out of a fake chimney.

Handing over some cash to the stall owner, Marc picked up one of the rifles with cocky assurance, flashing you a grin, before tucking the stock up against his shoulder. He watched the motion of the targets for a few moments, getting a feel for the pattern and speed. With a squeeze of the trigger a spherical piece of metal flew across the space and landed with a ‘thunk’... three inches to the right of the target. You tried, and failed, to suppress a giggle as Marc scowled, looking over the rifle with a huff. Then, without a word, he raised it up again and let of a series of shots across the target area, the chimes of metal hitting metal ringing out one after the other, much to the frustration of the stall holder. You squealed and bounced on your toes as the massive polar bear wearing a santa hat was begrudgingly handed over. Leaning across the huge stuffy, you pressed kisses all over Marc’s cheeks and lips.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

His arms went around your waist and he spun you around until you were both dizzy and laughing, uncaring about the spectacle you were creating. Eventually Marc slowed you down and pulled you into a short, but deep, kiss that left you both breathless.

“Come on, Angel. Let’s check out the other games.”

The pair of you laughed as you played ‘hook a duck’, then skeeball and then failed abysmally at the ring toss.

“I’m sure it’s rigged,” Marc grumbled. You silently agreed with him. It was unlikely that your highly trained boyfriend couldn’t beat a fair version. “Let’s go sit and get a drink instead. I think there’s a mulled wine and cider shack around the corner.”

“There’s an idea I can get behind. Lead the way, my Prince of sideshows.”

The temperature had dropped over the last hour and you could feel the cold burning at your nose and cheeks, so when the pair of you made your way into the brightly lit, wooden bar, you let out a sigh of relief. The small space was crowded with other market patrons and you were grateful for Marc’s presence, as you squeezed through the press of bodies, along with your bear and shopping bags, to get to a small table in the corner.

“Sit tight, sweetheart and I’ll be back.”

The smile he flashed you made your heart jump and your core pulse. As you watched him walk off to the bar, unashamedly watching his ass inside his slacks, an electronic squeal caught your attention. In the other corner of the bar was a small raised stage, with a couple of microphones, speakers and a large monitor; a karaoke set up. A pair of giggling blonde girls were making their way up onto the dais, talking to the man who appeared to be in charge. What occurred next was what could only be described as two cats screeching along to the backing track of Whitney Houston’s ‘I’m Every Woman’. Marc returned to your table part way through the rendition, placing the steaming glass mug in front of you, the red, fragrant liquid with bits of orange peel floating in it, sloshing gently. You cupped it in your hands, warming them on it and inhaling the heady scent of red wine, spices and citrus.

Marc’s foot toyed with yours under the table, and despite the caterwauling you could feel the romance. You were so lucky that you’d been able form such strong relationships with both of Marc’s main alters. It made all your lives much easier, having those connections, with none of them feeling guilty if they appeared unplanned; you loved them all equally.

The atmosphere, and the second cup of wine, lulled you into relaxation and you knew you had a dopey, slightly buzzed look on your face. You pulled his hand across the table, turning it so it was palm up. With your index finger you started to trace patterns across his skin.

“Marc…” You let out a dramatic, needy whine. A wry smile spread on his face as he looked at you.

“Yes, Angel?”

“Come sing with me. I wanna do karaoke. We’d be so much better than these guys.”

He rolled his eyes, but you knew he’d say yes. He always indulged you, and you weren’t above taking advantage of that once in a while.

His hand tightened on yours and pulled you to your feet.

“Come on then - do you know which song you want to do?”

You nodded in reply, your lower lip pulled between your teeth, as you both made your way to the stage. As Marc sorted out the microphones you gave your song request to the DJ. With your performance confirmed you moved to stand next to Marc, taking one of the microphones from him and looping your free arm through his. The short piano intro played and you saw a smile of recognition on your boyfriend’s face, before you breathily sung your first line.

“I really can’t stay…”

Marc didn’t miss a beat before leaning towards you, crooning.

“But, Baby, it’s cold outside…”

“I’ve got to go away…”

“But, Baby it’s cold outside…”

His voice was deep and velvety, a soft caress across your soul. His eyes bored into yours, and you were helpless to look away as you sang to each other. You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point during the song the playful lightness decreased and the banked heat between you began to rise. When your voices came together in a final, synchronous crescendo you didn’t know if your racing heartbeat was due to the unaccustomed effort of singing or because your mind was already imagining all the things that Marc would do to you when you got back to your apartment. You didn’t notice the applause and cheers from the audience in the wine shack, because all there was was Marc, the way his arm was around your waist, his eyes locked on yours, his breath warm on your lips…

The world lurched as he dipped you, pressing his mouth to yours and kissing you with unreserved passion. You returned the kiss, forgetting for a moment that you were in public, and not in either of your apartments. However, before you could embarrass yourself any further, Marc pulled back, his dark eyes filled with lust. Whoops and hollers surrounded you, but you just blinked at him, slightly dazed.

“Let’s get outta here, Angel. I’ll just get your bags.” Marc dashed away to collect your things from the table, and you passed the microphones back to the grinning DJ, your face heated. You were glad for the warmth flooding your body as you stepped back out into the cold air, Marc holding your bags and with his body almost pressed up against your back. You quickly re-wrapped your scarf and jammed your hat on your head, before grabbing one of the bags from Marc so you could slip your hand in his. He grinned, a devilish smile lighting up his face before he practically dragged you out of the market and towards the main road.

With a shrill whistle, which pierced the night air like a stiletto knife, he’d hailed a cab and hustled you inside it. He rattled off your address to the cabby, and then he was kissing you again. The bags and the teddy were jammed against your legs, and your big coat, scarf and hat were getting in the way, but you didn’t care. You didn’t recall much of the ride, nor getting through your door, other than the rush to shed your outer clothes and kick off your shoes. You did register the moment your back bounced off the hallway wall as Marc steered you down it towards your bedroom, as you chuckled into his kiss and he growled back comically.

You both fell to the bed in a tangle, but working together to remove all and any clothes between you. You moaned as Marc’s lips fastened over one of your nipples, sucking the swollen flesh in to his mouth. At the same time one of his hands roamed over your soft body, stroking you and slowly making his way between your thighs.

Those deft fingers found their way without hesitation between your folds, spreading your wetness before teasing your clit into a firm peak. He teased it mercilessly, stroking and caressing it, giving it light pinches that made lightning dart across your vision, as his mouth swapped between your lush breasts, worshipping them.

“Marc!” You cried out his name as a plea, a plea for more. He lifted his head and you looked at him, glassy eyed, taking in the mess of his hair where you’d been gripping it without realising. He grinned once more, travelling down your body.

His lips kissed, sucked and nipped at your skin, leaving small marks in their wake. He saved the strongest bite for when he reached your hip. You’d realised early on in your relationship that it was one of Marc’s particular quirks; he loved the softness of your hips. How when he gripped them your flesh spilt between his fingers. How they held the evidence of his passion for you. He loved to decorate them with bite marks, finger marks, hickeys. When Stephen saw the mottled blemishes he’d stroke them gently and ask if you wanted him to apply ointment. When Jake saw them he’d just snort knowingly and grin.

When your lover was level with the apex of your plump thighs, the hand that had been teasing you left you so he could push your legs further apart, hooking your knees over his shoulders. Without preamble he fastened his lips to your core, drinking from it as though you alone could slake his thirst. He pulled moans and cries from your throat as you fisted the sheets, already hurtling towards your orgasm. His fingers joined his mouth and tongue, delving into your wet heat, stroking you, stretching you. Shivers raced over your heated skin, the way you were dragging air into your lungs leaving you dizzy. The force of Marc’s lovemaking never failed to leave you startled.

You came with a scream, open-mouthed and uninhibited, uncaring that Mrs Smith next door would probably shoot you daggers in the morning. Marc’s arm clamped across your abdomen, holding you to him as he continued to feast, drawing out every tremble, every whimper from your body, until you went loose and lax beneath him.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

You lay, dazed on the bed as Marc kissed his was back up you. You felt him smile against your skin until he was finally eye level with you again and you gave him a breathy smile before drawing him close and kissing him, deeply.

“I love you, Angel. I could spend all night dragging those noises from you and be satisfied. But a bit like the Ghost of Christmas Present, my time with you for the evening is almost over.”

In your lust addled state, you’d almost forgotten about Jake. You were torn. You didn’t want Marc to go, but it had been a while since you’d spent the night with the most reclusive off the alters, and had to admit the thought of it was exciting. Where Marc made love, Jake fucked. He fucked hard and feral. He left you aching after for days in the most delicious way.

Marc could obviously see the indecision in your expression.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m only a tiny bit jealous. I’m sure I’ll see you again tomorrow at some point, and I wouldn’t have missed out on our evening for anything.”

He kissed you again, his passion almost overwhelming. The hands around you tightened, the firm body rolling to be fully on top of you, leaving you in no doubt who was in charge. Jake had arrived.

You knew he was the most dangerous of your boys, birthed in the darkest moments of Marc’s army career; A way for his mind to cope with horrors he’d not only seen, but had to carry out.

As he raised his head you saw his hard eyes looking at you like a wolf looked at his prey. A shiver of anticipation racked your body.

“Buenas noches, mi cielo”

You dug your nails into his shoulder blades and nipped at his stubbled jaw.

“Hi, Jakey. Long time, no see.”

He shrugged a little, as if to say it was no big deal.

“No, don’t be like that.” You moved your hands to cup his face and force him to look at you. “You ever need me, I’m here. You matter as much as the others. I love you as much as the others. You don’t need to hide from me.”

“No me escondo, mujer.”

“Well then turn up more often for me then. Cos now you’re here…” your lips travelled up to his ear lobe and gave it a sharp tug with your teeth. “I need you to fuck me. Fuck me, Jake. Let’s fuck off Mrs Smith like we’ve never fucked her off before.”

His eyes narrowed, but before you had a chance to wonder what he was planning, you found yourself flipped onto your stomach, your hips yanked up, and a strong calloused hand on the back of your neck, pressing your cheek into the coverlet.

“¡Mantente abajo!”

“Not like I can go anywhere with you pinning me like… oh god!” Your snarky retort was cut short as Jake pushed three of his fingers into you without warning.

“Marc got you so wet, mi amor.”

Fuck, you loved his accent.

He pumped his wrist, and although you couldn’t see his face you could imagine him looking at your stuffed pussy, watching your juices, which you could hear squelching lewdly, spill out around his digits and run down your thighs. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he curled them, the most indelicate sound making its way past your lips.

“That’s it, cariño, be loud for me. Let the whole world know how good I am making you feel.”

He was merciless as he fingered you, seeming to revel in every salacious noise his movements pulled from your throat.

“Si, sing for me, pajarito. You sound beautiful.”

“Jake! Oh god! Fuck!”

Your legs shook as you came, and you were glad that you were mostly lying down, otherwise you would have collapsed. Your orgasm had barely finished when Jake pulled his fingers from you, with a wet, smacking sound. You heard him sucking on them, muttering under his breath, too low for you to really catch, and then he was pushing into you. Your eyes that had fluttered closed during your throws of ecstasy flew open, as he ploughed into you. One hand on your hip, the other still on the back of your neck, this was primal, feral fucking, and it was just what you wanted.

“Fuck, yes! Fuck me, Jake. Fuck me, hard!”

Jake shifted behind you, pressing his whole body against yours, his weight pushing down on your ass. Your legs slid out from under you and he followed you down, still pounding his cock into you, ferociously.

“You want it hard? Then I’ll give you hard. You will feel me in tu coño for days.”

He withdrew abruptly, but easily manhandled you over onto your back. He sunk back in, just as hurriedly, before hooking your legs over his muscular forearms and planting his hand on the mattress either side of your chest. Your legs were spread wide and your body folded in half as he rose up on his knees and started up his sweet torture. Each animalistic thrust pushed more noises and curses from you, rambling nonsensical sounds of lust and desire.

His thick cock was rubbing you just right on the inside, and the trimmed hair at the base of it rubbed over your engorged clit. You could feel yourself falling into that delicious spiral - the push and pull of sensation dragging you towards your inevitable, and explosive, end.

“Mírame, amor.”

You hadn’t even realised your eyes were closed, but at his gruff command, you managed to open them slightly, taking in the fierce look on his face, the sweat peppering his brow, causing his hair to curl more.

“Cum, cariño. Let me feel you coming undone.”

He leant forward, capturing your lips again in an unforgiving kiss, a kiss that felt as though he was trying to pull your soul from you, and as he dragged that part of you from your body, he also dragged your orgasm from you. He let your lips go right at the moment that you screamed out your pleasure, with all the air in your lungs. Your vision went simultaneously black and white, your eyes unable to see anything but static as the waves of ecstasy dashed you on the rocks.

How long you lay there, dazed, you weren’t sure, but you came back to yourself to the feeling of Jake gently mouthing at your core.

No, not Jake. It didn’t feel like him.

A change in your breathing must have given away your more alert state, because he raised his head, smiling softly. You reached out your hand to weave into his soft hair.

“Steven. When did you get here?”

“You know aftercare is my thing, babes. Now just lay back and let me clean you up, alright?”

You let yourself relax back into your messed up bed, enjoying the soft sensations as Stephen licked and stroked you. Your body juddered with a gentle, final orgasm, lulling you to the edge of sleep. A few dips of the mattress and two strong arms pulled up the coverlet before wrapping around your body, a few gentle kisses pressed to the corner of your mouth.

“You staying?” you questioned, sleepily.

“Of course, babes. It’s cold outside.”

Taglist: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @talia-rumlow

#steven grant x you #marc spector x you #jake lockley x you #steven grant x female reader #marc spector x female reader #jake lockley x female reader #late writes #tis the season to be thot y #the thot neighborhood

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ovaruling · 1 year ago

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All technological developments can usefully be studied with a focus on women's social interactions, even those developments which would initially seem to have little to do with women's lives. For example: girls' and women's uses of bicycles. I have been fascinated by nineteenth century feminists' accounts of the bicycle as a mechanical device which changed women's movement through their communities. (Elizabeth Cady Stanton declared in 1895 that 'many a woman is riding to the suffrage on a bicycle' [Kramarae and Treichler 1986, 69].) Early feminists told stories of the ways women were discouraged (bottles and insults thrown their way) from riding bicycles. In some families bicycles and motor bikes are still considered more suited to boys' than girls' lives-and boys are often allowed more freedom as to when and where they ride. (One of the contributors for this collection tells me that her brothers were allowed to learn to ride at an earlier age than she was, and that even now her father discourages her, a postgraduate student, from riding her bicycle to work.) But in general in Western countries the bicycle is no longer considered only a male mode of transport. The situation is much different in other parts of the world. In Delhi I asked friends why I saw many men and no women pedalling bicycles or steering motorcycles-only some women getting rides on the cycles. I was told that even if a woman could afford a bike or motorcycle, she couldn't use it for fear of ridicule; those are men's modes of transportation. Besides, the woman's sari would make bike riding very difficult. (In the US, women's interest in bicycle riding was early linked to arguments for 'rational dress,' that is, women's clothing styles which did not require yards and yards of skirt material.) Millions of women in India daily walk many miles hauling water for their families; procuring water is a woman's duty just as riding a bicycle is a man's activity (Rami 1985). Women seldom use bicycles for such activities as getting water, visiting relatives, or taking their homemade lace to collection points for selling. Men with bicycles market the products of women lace makers (Mies 1982). Thus gender-differentiated technology deepens women's economic and social dependence. In this and other cases, we can see that the genderizing of transport affects women's talk, including when and where it occurs, the topics, and the perceived value of the talk by women and men. — Cheris Kramarae, Technology and Women’s Voices: Keeping in Touch (1988) REFERENCES: Kramarae, Cheris and Paula Treichler, with the assistance of Ann Russo. 1986. A Feminist Dictionary. New York and London: Pandora Press. Mies. Maria. 1982. The Lace Makers of Narsapur: Indian Housewives Produce for the World Market. London: Zed Press. Rami, Prabha. 1985. 'Just one more queue: women and water shortage in Tamil Nadu.' In Madhu Kishwar and Ruth Vanita, eds. In Search of Answers: Indian Women's Voices from Manushi. London: Zed Books, 104-14.

#technology and women's voices #bookposting

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na-ta-sh-aa · 11 months ago

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Aww the sweetness of this, I absolutely loved reading it! As usual I was amazed by your detailed descriptions and your ability to insert details that make the story even more real, truly wonderful!💗

“But as he flicked on the lights, Bob discovered that you must have been in there not too long ago, for the mirror above the sink was still beaded with condensation and the bathmat had the imprint of damp footprints.

I love the detailed way you wrote this scene

“P.S. I almost forgot—I packed some lunch for you and left it in the fridge! And there’s a pot of coffee ready to brew. Have a great day!!!”

She is so sweet🥹 I love that before she left, even though she was so busy, she packed lunch and got coffee ready for Bob

“To Bob, every day was Christmas so long as he got to spend it with you”

Aww Bob!😭🫶🏼

“You needed the extra sleep, honey,” he said in a voice so sweet and filled with concern that you couldn’t even dream of staying mad at him.”

Bob is so sweet, the fact that he cares so much about her shows perfectly how much he loves her!

“That was when your eyes landed on the cup of coffee and the small red-and-white striped bag on your nightstand. “Is that for me?” you gasped in delight, looking back at your husband eagerly.”

Aww breakfast in bed! this gesture from Bob warmed my heart so much🥹

“It’s perfect,” Bob nodded, smiling as he rose from the couch and took in your appearance. “Just like you,” he added, winking as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.”

Bob is starting to ruin all the other men! He is so sweet and affectionate.

“It was as close to a German Christmas market as you had ever come, with vendors of all kinds set up in little wooden booths ringing the perimeter of the square. There were shopkeepers selling a whole assortment of things, from hot chocolate and gingerbread cookies to homemade candy to personalized ornaments to fine wine and jewelry. Amidst all the different stalls were small stages where performances ranging from choirs to magic shows were taking place, not to mention the life-size snow globes and the giant sleigh where guests could take pictures. And at the center of it all was a ginormous Christmas tree that had to be at least thirty feet tall.”

Aww this is literally every Christmas market lover's dream, it's wonderful!

“Thank you for coming!” she said brightly, offering an adorable little gap-tooth smile.

“Thank you for having us!” you replied brightly, squatting down so that you were on eye level with her. “You all sounded amazing!”

I loved this part so much, I don't know who is sweeter and cuter between the two of them, but I think they both are equally🫶🏼

“You’re going to make an amazing mother one day,” Bob told you softly

I'm sure that Bob is absolutely right, she is a unique sweetness, just as I'm sure that Bob will be a wonderful father!

“We’re going ice skating,” he explained, chuckling at the shocked expression on your face.

Ice skating is an activity that cannot be missed during the Christmas period🫶🏼

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Bob murmured encouragingly, holding tightly to your hands as he guided you onto the ice, sticking close to the wall in case you needed extra support.

“You’ve got it, honey. Try looking up at me. I won’t let go,”

Aww, it's these very natural gestures from Bob towards his wife that fill me with joy. I loved how he never let go of her until she felt more confident, just as I loved how he took off her skates in such a sweet and gentle manner.

“Actually this time, it was Payback who knew a guy,” Bob laughed, reaching across the table to take your hand in his, brushing his thumb across your soft skin. “His cousin works concierge at the hotel, so he managed to pull a few strings.”

It was so nice that many members of Dagger helped Bob make this day so wonderful

“That was my mission, and it sounds like it was a success. I wanted today to be a day where you just got to have fun and enjoy this time of year. I know how much it means to you, and I also know that it’ll be over in the blink of an eye, so we have to make the most of it while we can.”

Bob succeeded in his aim perfectly

“You’re right. Today was a pretty good start to some Floyd Christmas traditions, I think,” you told him with a grin.

I think this is just the beginning of a wonderful tradition

“You’re the love of my life,” he told you. “No matter how many traditions come and go, that’s one thing that will never change.”

I'm literally in tears at how beautiful and sweet he was

“What made this Christmas so perfect was the handsome man with blue eyes and a wide smile waiting for you beneath the mistletoe.”

Aww their Christmases will always be special because they will spend them together.

To say I loved every sentence and word of this would be an understatement, it was wonderful from start to finish. I loved the love with which Bob wanted to organize this special day for his wife to ensure that she could enjoy her favorite holiday to the fullest. The day was perfect and unforgettable. I loved how you wrote about their love, you managed to convey through words how much they both want each other's happiness and how strong their love is. This was a truly perfect Christmas fic. I loved it madly, truly beautiful!🥹💞🫧

What Christmas Means to Me, My Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Summary: You're determined to make your first married Christmas the best one yet. But when you start to overextend yourself, Bob steps in to remind you what's most important.

Word Count: 10.6k

Author's Note: Whew! The relief I feel that I was able to get this story completed before Christmas Eve! This is my contribution to @lewmagoo's A Lew Magoo Christmas challenge! It was inspired by the Stevie Wonder song, "What Christmas Means To Me." I hope you all enjoy!

(Special shoutout and thanks to @luminousnotmatter and @ryebecca for listening to me ramble when I was having a total meltdown about writing this story. I'm very thankful for you both!)

Warnings: References to being stressed during the holidays and a few brief innuendos, but it's mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

From the time he was a young boy, Bob Floyd had been cognizant of one very fascinating phenomenon—his bed never felt so comfortable or so warm as when his alarm clock was blaring in his ear, giving him a rather forceful reminder that it was time to get up and start the day. After he met you, that troubling phenomenon seemed to increase tenfold. As responsible as he was and as much as he prided himself on getting to work early each day, Bob would be lying if he said there weren’t times when he felt like chucking his alarm clock across the room and playing sick just so he could stay tucked away in bed all day, cocooned under the blankets and wrapped around your sweet warmth.

This morning, as his alarm started roaring at 7:00 on the dot, Bob let out a small grunt of protest, blindly reaching out from beneath the comforter to pound a resentful fist on the top of his alarm clock. Once it was silent, he rolled over in the bed the two of you had been sharing as husband and wife for nearly six months now and reached an arm out, fully expecting to wrap it around your soft, pajama-clad body. When he was met with emptiness instead, Bob blinked his eyes open in confusion and sat up slowly, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his vision as he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and slipped them onto his nose, albeit a bit crookedly.

“Sweetheart?” Bob called out, frowning when he was met with nothing but the early morning stillness of your quaint little home.

Immediately, he flung the covers back and climbed out of bed, padding towards the bathroom to see if maybe you were in the shower and couldn’t hear him calling you over the sound of the running water. That theory was quickly disproven, however, when he found the bathroom door hanging open, lights off and no sounds of a shower in progress. But as he flicked on the lights, Bob discovered that you must have been in there not too long ago, for the mirror above the sink was still beaded with condensation and the bathmat had the imprint of damp footprints.

“Honey?” Bob called again, thinking maybe you’d stepped outside to enjoy your morning coffee on the front porch. Although why you’d be up this early—and showered already, too—on one of your days off from work was beyond him.

Walking into the kitchen, Bob immediately spotted a piece of festive note paper resting on the countertop. He recognized it instantly, the cream colored paper outlined with a ring of cheerful poinsettias. You’d been ecstatic when you’d found it at the dollar store a few weeks ago—"You never know when something like this will come in handy during the holidays, honey," were your exact words. But what stood out even more was your delicate handwriting etched across the paper in dark ink. Picking up the note, Bob adjusted his glasses and read the message you’d quickly penned on your way out the door.

Good morning, honey! I decided to head out early to try to hit some of the stores before they get too crazy. There’s a lot that I still need to pick up, so I’ll probably be gone most of the day. Also, Lorraine and I are going to run over to check out the venue for our staff holiday party and finalize the menu. Speaking of which, I also need to finalize the menu for OUR party, plus Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Text me if there’s anything you want me to get! Hopefully I won’t be home too late. I love you!!!

P.S. I almost forgot—I packed some lunch for you and left it in the fridge! And there’s a pot of coffee ready to brew. Have a great day!!!

He sighed softly as he set your note back down on the counter, running a hand through his honey brown hair, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as he silently lamented your early departure. He could hear your voice in his head as he read your words, chuckling to himself as he pictured you quickly gulping down a cup of coffee—in your favorite Christmas mug, no doubt—and shoving a piece of half-burnt toast in your mouth before running out the door.

You absolutely lived for this time of year, and all the hecticness that the season entailed.

Bob had known, almost from the very start of your relationship, how much you adored Christmas. It was one of the things, in fact, that had made it so easy for him to fall in love with you. Seeing the way you lit up like a firefly when a Christmas song came on the radio or when your favorite coffee shop started offering peppermint-flavored drinks made Bob’s heart melt in absolute love and devotion. He had never known anyone as whimsical or as full of genuine Christmas spirit as you. And your joy was infectious—Bob had never loved the holiday season so much as he did once he started celebrating it with you.

Waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, Bob couldn’t help but grin as he glanced around the kitchen at all the decorations you’d been putting up since Thanksgiving. They gave your home a warm, cozy feeling that had nothing to do with aesthetics and everything to do with the loving care with which you’d hung them.

To Bob, every day was Christmas so long as he got to spend it with you.

Which was why he sighed again as he poured a splash of cream into his coffee mug, brows furrowing above his glasses as he considered how little he’d seen you these past couple weeks.

With both of you working full-time jobs, it made sense that you couldn’t possibly spend every waking moment together. But Bob looked forward more than anything to your routine of dinner in the early evening and then hours spent lounging in each other’s arms, talking about your days or listening to music or watching a movie together. It was a habit you had gotten into even before you were married, and it was made all the sweeter by the fact that your lives were now entwined so intrinsically.

These past few weeks, however, that routine had been seriously upended by all the hustle and bustle of the holidays. Bob knew you took this time of year seriously—and he really did love how happy it made you—but it seemed like this year more than ever, your schedule was jam-packed and filled nearly to bursting.

On top of the usual shopping that needed to get done—you bought gifts for everyone, even down to your mail carrier and the barista who made your favorite coffee—there were preparations for not one, not two, but three separate parties you had volunteered to host. First up was your staff holiday party. Your colleagues knew that no one loved Christmas more than you, and so they had unanimously nominated you to spearhead the planning, which you’d graciously agreed to, with some help from your co-worker, Lorraine. Then was the party for the Daggers and their families that you had convinced Bob it would be fun to host a few days before Christmas Eve. All of your friends couldn’t stop buzzing about it, and you were going to great lengths to make sure it was perfect. As if all that wasn’t enough, you were also going to be hosting both of your families for the holidays this year, parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, and all.

“It’s our first Christmas as Mr. and Mrs. Floyd,” you’d told him one night, when he’d asked if you were really okay with all of the planning that would be involved. “I want it to be special.” Your smile when you said it warmed him from the inside out. As introverted as he could be, he’d gladly host twenty parties so long as it made you happy.

The reality, however, was that you were swamped. Every day after work, you were either running around to stores or scouring the internet for the best cyber deals or researching recipes that you wanted to try for Christmas dinner. One night, Bob had even found you making an alphabetized list of holiday games you could play at the parties.

“Are you sure you’re really okay?” Bob asked at one point, when he caught you yawning over your dinner. “I know I’ve been busy with work, but I can help more. Just tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine, silly,” you giggled, waving off his concern with a hand. “I just want everyone to have a good time.”

“They will,” he told you, resting his large, calloused hand over yours. He looked intently into your eyes, sincerity shining in the blue depths of his. “They’ll have a good time no matter what. You don’t have to make yourself sick over planning.”

You had just smiled at him and given him a kiss, but clearly you hadn’t heeded his words because now you were even using your day off to run errands, waking up even earlier than your naval aviator husband to do so.

Rinsing his empty mug out in the sink, Bob frowned as he thought of how tired you’d seemed these past few days. Your joy and your sweetness never diminished, but he could tell just from looking in your eyes how exhausted you were getting. You were overextending yourself, and he was terrified you were going to burn out before Christmas even arrived. Not being able to fully enjoy your favorite time of year would devastate you, and nothing would hurt Bob more than that.

You needed to take a day for yourself, Bob decided as he let the warm water flow over him in a quick shower. No shopping, no planning, no organizing—just a day where you actually got to enjoy all your favorite things about this season.

That idea remained buzzing around in his head as he drove to work, hanging on the periphery of his consciousness even as he spent hours flying test runs with Phoenix and the rest of the Daggers. On his lunch break, he enthusiastically hunkered down in the rec room to research some of the plans that were percolating in his mind. And by the time he drove home that evening, he was wearing a smile bright enough to rival any of the Christmas lights twinkling in your neighborhood.

The fact that you still weren’t home when Bob unlocked the front door and carefully placed his work boots on the shoe rack only further solidified his plan. As if you could somehow read his mind, his phone buzzed suddenly with an incoming text.

Are you home? I’m so sorry I’m not back yet! I’m on my way now. I picked up some dinner from that BBQ place that you like 😋

Bob’s heart squeezed with affection as he read your words. You’d been up for nearly twelve hours at this point, and you were no doubt exhausted, but you were still always putting others ahead of yourself. He typed out a quick response as he walked into the living room to turn on the lights on the Christmas tree.

Yum! Thank you, sweetheart. Can’t wait for you to get home ♥️

About twenty minutes later, just as Bob was stepping out of your bedroom after changing into a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt from his time at the Naval Academy, he heard your key jiggling in the lock and hurried to meet you.

“Oh!” you gasped in surprise when your husband swung open the door before you could finish turning your key. “Hiya, honey,” you beamed, holding up the bag of take-out food you’d picked up especially for him on your drive home.

“Man, I tell you, these delivery people keep getting cuter and cuter,” Bob teased, drawing you close and taking the food out of your hands as he dropped a kiss on your lips.

“Mmm,” you giggled against his mouth, kissing him back as you felt some of the tension you’d been carrying in your shoulders slowly dissipate. “Maybe this delivery girl can join you for dinner tonight,” you winked playfully, smiling when you felt Bob’s fingers lace through yours.

“I was counting on it,” he chuckled, tugging on your hand as he turned into the house.

“Oh, just give me a couple minutes, honey,” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering you’d left your car idling in the driveway, the backseat and trunk filled to the brim with your purchases of the day. “I just want to get everything out of the car.”

“Sweetheart, it can wait,” Bob insisted, glancing longingly between you and his dinner. “Your food’s going to get cold. I’ll help you unload the car after we eat.”

You bit your lip in hesitation, but finally relented when you saw the puppy dog expression on your husband’s face. “Okay, fine, let me just go turn the car off.”

A few minutes later, you and Bob were seated side by side at your small kitchen table, your legs pressing together and your fingers brushing against one another as you nibbled on wings and scarfed down some chili mac and cheese.

“How was your day?” you asked curiously, glancing up as you took a sip of water and wiped your fingers on a napkin.

You always asked that question so sincerely, even after all this time. It made him feel so seen and loved. Smiling, he rested his hand over yours and squeezed your fingers gently.

“It was good,” he said lightly, not yet ready to divulge the plans he’d been formulating all day. “You know, same old, same old. How about yours?”

“It was great!” you chirped, beaming brightly.

Bob smiled and nodded as you told him about the gifts you’d picked up for all the nieces and nephews, the menu you and Lorraine had decided on for your staff holiday party, the grab bags gifts you’d snagged for the Dagger party, the new gingerbread recipe you’d just heard about, and a whole host of other things.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” you murmured sheepishly after you realized you’d hardly stopped for a moment to take a breath.

“It’s okay, I love it when you ramble,” Bob grinned, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Mmm, I love it even more when you taste like barbeque,” he laughed, nudging your nose with his own.

Laughing, you wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders and kissed him tenderly. Pulling back, you rested your forehead against his with a contented sigh and gazed into his eyes. “Want to go find a movie to watch while I do the dishes?” you suggested.

Bob pulled back slightly to more fully look at you, though he kept his large hands wrapped loosely around your waist. “As much as I love the sound of that plan, I think we should call it an early night tonight, honey,” he said softly, reaching up to lightly brush your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You look exhausted.”

You pouted slightly, but couldn’t stifle the yawn that suddenly came upon you, which made the both of you laugh. “I guess you’re right,” you admitted ruefully, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment.

“How about you get started on the dishes and I’ll unload everything from the car? Then we’ll head to bed, alright?” Bob asked, hyper aware of the drawn look around your eyes.

“Deal,” you nodded, giving him one more kiss as you jumped up to clear the table.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were cuddled up under the covers, the warm glow from the little battery-operated lantern you kept near the window casting a cozy feel over the room.

“Do you have any plans for Saturday?” Bob asked softly, running his fingers up and down your arm gently as you lay in his embrace. Saturday was the one day that the both of you had off, and he intended to make the most of it this weekend.

You let out a soft sigh, snuggling up further against his chest. “There are a few new recipes I wanted to try for dinner on Christmas Eve and Christmas, so I figured maybe I should test them out ahead of time, just in case they end up being a disaster. Saturday seems as good a day as any to do that. Want to be my taste tester?” you grinned, eyes crinkling as you smiled over at him.

“Uh-uh,” Bob shook his head, a slightly mischievous smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him. “Why not? You’ve got other plans?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, his blue eyes twinkling, which you could see even in the dark of your bedroom. “I’m going to have a very full day.”

“Doing what?” you huffed jokingly, arching an eyebrow as you rolled onto your side, gazing at him curiously.

“You’ll find out,” Bob grinned, not letting the cat out of the bag just yet. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” you asked, clearly taken aback as your eyes widened once again. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he chuckled, leaning over to give you a quick kiss.

“Bob!” you exclaimed, nudging him lightly with your foot.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he grinned, rolling over and closing his eyes. He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as he heard you huffing softly beside him, clearly desperate to know what he was planning. Within minutes, however, he heard the sound of your breathing soften and deepen, your eyes closing in a deep slumber.

Turning back over, Bob watched you sleep peacefully and felt his heart clench inside his chest. You were going above and beyond this Christmas, and it was clearly taking its toll, whether you wanted to admit it or not. He was glad to see you sleeping so comfortably after such a long day.

You were striving so hard to make this Christmas magical for everyone else. This weekend, Bob was going to make it magical for you and remind you what this season was really all about.

Nobody deserved it more than you.

Saturday morning dawned bright and crisp, just as Bob had been anticipating. He’d been checking the forecast every day to make sure that nothing was going to interfere with his plans for today. The weather was better than he could have hoped for—the sun was shining bright, hardly a cloud in the sky, but the air had a nice winter chill as the temperature hovered somewhere between the high fifties and low sixties.

That was one of the only things you ever lamented about moving to San Diego—it was harder to make it feel like Christmas when it was still warm enough to wear shorts and go to the beach. But today’s weather, while certainly not cold by any stretch of the imagination, would at least give you an opportunity to wear one of those new sweaters you’d bought for yourself.

Grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning, Bob quietly tiptoed into your bedroom, where he was delighted to see that you were still fast asleep, buried so deeply under the covers that only the top of your head was poking out. Swallowing back a laugh, he sidled over to your side of the bed and carefully placed the treats he’d set out early to procure on your nightstand.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured softly, gingerly taking a seat on the edge of the bed to avoid crushing you. You stirred slightly, but didn’t open your eyes, so he bent down to drop a kiss on the crown of your head, still the only part of your body exposed to the mid-morning light. “Honey, wake up,” he tried again, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

Letting out a soft hum in response, you slowly pushed the covers back and ran a hand down your face before opening your eyes halfway, peeking up at your husband through hooded lids.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bob chuckled, ducking his head to peck your lips tenderly.

“Mmm, good morning,” you replied, your voice still heavy with sleep as you stretched with a satisfied little groan. You were so distracted by the extremely pleasant view of your handsome husband hovering above you that it took you a moment to realize how much light was filtering in through the windows, and to catch a glimpse of the time on your alarm clock. Gasping, you bolted upright, looking at Bob with wide eyes. “Is that really the time? I thought I set an alarm!”

It was nearly 9:45am. You couldn’t remember the last time you had slept in that late. Between work and all the other things you were usually running around doing, even on your days off, your internal alarm hardly ever let you sleep that long. Not to mention the fact that you normally had an alarm set. You could have sworn you had set it last night.

Bob had the grace to look a bit sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck, gazing at you with those big blue eyes behind the frames of his adorably gawky glasses. “You did,” he began slowly, glancing guiltily at your alarm clock and then back at you. “I shut it off.”

“Bob!” you exclaimed in astonishment, uncertain what would have possessed him to do that, especially when he knew how busy you were lately. “Why would you do that?”

“You needed the extra sleep, honey,” he said in a voice so sweet and filled with concern that you couldn’t even dream of staying mad at him. Reaching out, he took one of your hands between both of his, gently rolling the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “You’ve been running yourself ragged these past couple weeks. I wanted you to get some real rest.”

You bit your lip, averting your gaze as you silently thought about how busy you’d been lately and how exhausted you’d been feeling. You’d had three cups of coffee at work yesterday just to make it through the day.

“I guess you’re right,” you conceded, your lips curving upward in a rueful smile. “I do feel a little bit better already. Thank you, honey,” you told him, leaning forward to give him a kiss of appreciation. That was when your eyes landed on the cup of coffee and the small red-and-white striped bag on your nightstand. “Is that for me?” you gasped in delight, looking back at your husband eagerly.

“Mhm,” Bob chuckled at your open excitement, reaching for the cup and the bag and placing them in your hands.

Your very favorite coffee shop in all of San Diego, which also happened to be the spot where you and Bob went on your second date, was a tiny little hole-in-the-wall place not far from where you worked. From the outside, it didn’t seem like much to behold, but it was one of the city’s best kept secrets. Their coffee was brewed to perfection and their baked goods were a sweettooth’s dream. But what you loved most of all was the way they went all out for the holidays. The entire cafe was decked out in garland and bows and twinkling lights, Christmas music pumped through the speakers all day long, and their menu reflected everyone’s seasonal favorites.

At this time of year, your go-to order was a large peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream and a gingerbread scone that you swore you wanted to be your last meal on this earth. Bob had gotten to the cafe just in time that morning to get a scone fresh out of the oven.

“Oh my gosh, it’s still warm,” you sighed happily, the spiced molasses melting on your tongue as soon as you popped it into your mouth. You closed your eyes in bliss, washing it down with a sip of the peppermint mocha. “Thank you, honey. This is such a sweet surprise.”

“The first of many, I hope,” Bob smiled, resting a hand on your thigh as you enjoyed your breakfast in bed. “I have lots planned for you today, Mrs. Floyd.”

“You do?” you asked, raising an eyebrow over the rim of your coffee cup.

He nodded, his smile only growing wider. “Don’t you remember what I said the other night? We’ve got a lot to do today. So as soon as you’re done enjoying your breakfast, you better hop in the shower. We don’t want to be late,” he told you, his gorgeous baby blues sparkling as he rose from the bed and started towards the door.

“Wait!” you cried, jumping out of bed with your coffee and scone still firmly in hand. “What are we doing?” you called after him, chasing behind him in bare feet. “Bobby!”

“You’ll find out,” he laughed, turning around and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Just wear something comfortable,” was all the information he gave you.

You sighed in a purposely dramatic fashion, shooting him a playful glance. You knew from the look on his face that he wasn’t going to tell you anything else, so there was no use in trying to get the information out of him. Instead, you quickly gulped down the rest of your coffee and finished off your scone—still trying to savor every bite—before tearing off your pajamas and jumping into the shower.

An hour later, you were ready to go, dressed in a cute pair of jeans and a new red and white sweater you’d just recently purchased. The weather today finally gave you an opportunity to wear it.

“Is this alright?” you asked Bob as you stepped into the living room, holding your arms out at your sides. It was hard to know what to wear when you had no idea what you were doing.

“I could say the same thing to you,” you giggled, resting your hands on his broad chest. He was wearing a dark green crew neck sweater and dark jeans that fit his long figure exquisitely. “Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Bob just shook his head, laughing out loud when you released a groan of exasperation. “Patience, my sweet wife,” he teased, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the front door. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

You really hadn’t been sure what to anticipate when you climbed into the car with Bob. As many guesses as you tried to make to figure out what his plans were, your husband’s expression was impenetrable. He didn’t give anything away, no matter what you said.

What you hadn’t been expecting was to pull into the parking lot of Petco Park.

As soon as Bob put the car in park, you glanced over at him curiously, trying to figure out what you were doing here. Your husband wasn’t a big baseball fan. And even if he was, it was the middle of December.

“I’m guessing we’re not here for a Padres game?” you ventured with a playful smile, glancing around the crowded parking lot.

Your husband laughed, shaking his head. “Not exactly. Come on,” he told you, climbing out of the car and hurrying around to the passenger side to open your door.

Slipping your hand into his, you followed his lead as he guided you through the milling crowd towards the entrance to the baseball stadium. He seemed almost giddy as the two of you got closer and closer to the park, glancing down at you every few seconds as if to check that you were still with him. You had no idea what was awaiting you, but his excitement was infectious and you found yourself buzzing with anticipation.

You weren’t disappointed.

As soon as Bob handed over your tickets to the attendant, you were swept up in the crowd of people surging towards Gallagher Square, where you were met with a breathtaking display of Christmas beauty.

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, coming to a halt as you stared, wide-eyed and in awe of the beautiful market that surrounded you.

“Do you like it?” Bob asked, a thread of nervousness in his voice as he looked at you, watching the way you were silently taking everything in.

Turning to face him, your face split into a huge grin and you threw your arms around him, peppering his cheek with kisses. “I love it! It’s so wonderful!”

It was as close to a German Christmas market as you had ever come, with vendors of all kinds set up in little wooden booths ringing the perimeter of the square. There were shopkeepers selling a whole assortment of things, from hot chocolate and gingerbread cookies to homemade candy to personalized ornaments to fine wine and jewelry. Amidst all the different stalls were small stages where performances ranging from choirs to magic shows were taking place, not to mention the life-size snow globes and the giant sleigh where guests could take pictures. And at the center of it all was a ginormous Christmas tree that had to be at least thirty feet tall.

It was magical. It made you feel like you were a little girl again, attending your town’s local Christmas fair with your family.

“I didn’t even know this existed!” you exclaimed, still holding tightly to your husband as you continued to gaze around you.

“I didn’t either,” Bob admitted, unable to stop smiling at how happy you looked. “But Phoenix and Hangman told me they took the kids here last week and had a blast, so I knew I had to get you tickets.”

“Oh, thank you, honey! This is amazing!” you beamed, wrapping your arms around him to give him an enthusiastic kiss.

Bob chuckled and blushed slightly as he adjusted his glasses with one hand, his other hand resting on your hip. “Should we walk around?”

Nodding, you took his hand and practically hauled him across the square, bouncing from stall to stall and oohing and aahing over all the various trinkets and baubles.

“Oh, honey, look! We should get this,” you cooed, holding up a sweet ornament of a hand painted Christmas tree with a little banner draped across it that read Our First Christmas as Mr. and Mrs.

It didn’t matter that you had three other ornaments with similar messages already hanging on your Christmas tree at home. Bob gladly pulled out his wallet to buy it for you, his heart fluttering at the gorgeous smile that lit up your entire face when the vendor carefully wrapped it up and handed it to you.

“Thank you, Bobby. I can’t wait to put it on the tree when we get home,” you told him, carefully slipping the wrapped ornament into your purse.

“Anything for you, honey,” Bob murmured softly, kissing your forehead. “Alright, what’s our next stop?”

You and Bob continued to wander among the stalls for the next couple hours, stopping on occasion to take a photo or grab a snack—"This is sustenance," you grinned, holding up the little brown bag of freshly glazed almonds that you’d purchased for the two of you to munch on.

At one point, as you were admiring the work of a local artist, you heard the sound of the sweetest voices imaginable. Following the music, with Bob trailing closely behind, you walked a bit further up the path before stopping in front of a small choir made up of the most angelic looking children you had ever seen. The sign in front of the platform declared that they were students from a local school for children with special needs.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered, tears sparkling on your lashes as they sang the most beautiful version of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” you had ever heard. Resting your head on your husband’s shoulder, you let the music wash over you, smiling brightly as they transitioned from one song to another.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there exactly—was it for three songs or six?—but when the children finally stopped singing, you and Bob burst into thunderous applause, prompting nearby onlookers to join in.

The pride on the children’s faces melted your heart as they shyly waved to the crowd and began making their way off the platform.

A little girl with Down syndrome, who couldn’t have been older than six or seven, suddenly broke away from the others and grabbed her mother’s hand, dragging her towards where you and your husband stood.

“Thank you for coming!” she said brightly, offering an adorable little gap-tooth smile.

“Thank you for having us!” you replied brightly, squatting down so that you were on eye level with her. “You all sounded amazing!”

To your surprise, the little girl lunged forward to wrap her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” her mother exclaimed, touching her daughter’s shoulder and trying to pull her back.

“It’s alright,” you smiled, patting the little girl’s back before she let go. “No need to apologize.”

“Thank you for staying to listen for so long,” the woman said, looking between you and Bob. “The kids worked really hard on their program for today, so it was nice to have such a captive audience.”

“We were happy to do it, really,” Bob told her, smiling down at the little girl as he rested a hand on your lower back. “Christmas music is my wife’s favorite,” he told her conspiratorially.

Her eyes widened in delighted surprise. “Mine, too!”

You all laughed happily at that.

“Well, I hope you have an amazing Christmas and that Santa brings you everything you’re hoping for this year,” you told her, grinning at the way she lit up at the mention of Santa.

“Santa! Santa!” she cheered.

“That’s right,” her mother nodded, brushing her daughter’s hair back over her shoulder. “We should get going soon if we want to go see Santa. What do you say to the nice people who watched you sing?”

“Thank you!” the little girl said sweetly, giving both you and Bob another quick hug around the legs. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” you and Bob replied in unison, waving to both mother and daughter as you went your separate ways, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re going to make an amazing mother one day,” Bob told you softly, the unadulterated adoration in his eyes warming you up from the inside out.

You just smiled dreamily in response, very much looking forward to the day when you would get to see Bob Floyd become a father.

“Well I think that was a very successful trip to the Christmas Market,” your husband said a few minutes later after you circled back to the center of the square.

“I had so much fun, honey. Thank you for thinking of this,” you told him, touched by the effort he’d made to bring you here and make it such a lovely afternoon.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bob smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He glanced down at his watch and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, but we better get going if we want to stay on schedule. Still have a lot to do.”

“Wait…what?” you questioned, startled. “There’s more?”

“I said I had a lot planned, didn’t I?” That mischievous twinkle had returned to his eyes. “You didn’t think this was it, did you?”

“Bob Floyd, what do you have up your sleeve?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and looking up at him with a quirked brow, trying and failing to mask the smile tugging at your lips.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, taking your hand and leading you back to the car.

If you had been uncertain about what your husband’s plans were when you’d arrived at Petco Park, you were doubly unsure what he had in mind when he turned onto the bridge connecting San Diego to Coronado.

“Are you taking me with you to work?” you wondered with a laugh, looking out the window at the afternoon sun sparkling on the San Diego Bay. You often told Bob that you were jealous of the view he got to enjoy on his commute to and from North Island.

Bob laughed at your question, but simply shook his head in response, turning up the radio as Mariah Carey began belting “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

“Hmmm, saved by the Queen of Christmas,” you joked, nudging him playfully as he took a turn off the bridge.

“Now, honey, you know that you’re the Queen of Christmas,” Bob retorted, winking at you as he made a few more turns.

“True,” you giggled, singing along to the radio until Hotel Coronado appeared in your sights, in all its glorious grandeur. You glanced over at Bob curiously, but he didn’t say anything as he searched for a parking spot.

“The suspense is killing me, Bobby,” you lamented, clinging onto his arm once he finally did manage to park the car. “What are we doing now?”

Turning to face you, Bob was struck once again by just how deeply he loved you. There was no one else he’d drag himself all over San Diego for on his day off from work.

“We’re going ice skating,” he explained, chuckling at the shocked expression on your face.

“You mean…Skating by the Sea?!” you gasped excitedly, practically bouncing up and down in your seat. “Bobby, you got tickets?”

“Sure did,” he nodded, pulling them out of his pocket to show you.

“Oh my gosh, how?” you breathed, reaching out to touch them as if you were afraid they would disappear.

“Mav knows a guy,” Bob chuckled, shaking his head affectionately as he thought of his boss and mentor.

As Hotel Coronado’s most popular winter attraction, it was nearly impossible to get tickets to Skating by the Sea during the Christmas season, but when Bob had mentioned it at work, Maverick had promised that he would be able to procure him a couple tickets. How he managed it, Bob didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know either. All that mattered was that you were looking at him right now like he had hung the moon and the stars, and there was no better reward than that.

“Ready to go?” Bob asked, holding out his hand to you.

“Ready!” you cheered, placing your hand in his and holding on tight.

It had been quite some time since you had actually been ice skating, and you were a bit rusty, especially in comparison to your midwestern husband, who had grown up ice skating on frozen ponds every winter. Still, despite your wobbly knees, you were determined to enjoy every moment of this experience.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Bob murmured encouragingly, holding tightly to your hands as he guided you onto the ice, sticking close to the wall in case you needed extra support.

“If you had told me we were coming, I could have brushed up on my skills ahead of time,” you teased, glancing down at your white rental skates as you carefully slid one foot in front of the other.

“And ruin the surprise and the look on your face when I told you what we were doing? Never,” he grinned, gently squeezing your hands as you slowly started to become more confident and steady on your feet. “You’ve got it, honey. Try looking up at me. I won’t let go,” he promised.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze from your feet up to your husband’s midsection, and then finally up to his face, that face that you adored more than anything else on this earth.

“There you go, you’ve got it. You’re doing such a good job,” Bob praised you, his confidence unshaken as he moved backwards across the ice. It was incredibly attractive how sure of himself he was out here.

“I think I’ve got it now. Want to try letting go?” you asked with a grin, feeling a little nervous but willing to give it a shot.

Smiling proudly, Bob nodded and slowly released his grip on your hands, letting you glide independently for a few seconds. You moved forward tentatively, your hands still out at your sides so that you could grab onto him—or the wall—if needed.

“That’s it, honey! Look at you go!” your husband cheered, making you laugh as you carefully made your way over to the opposite wall, which afforded you breathtaking views of the beach and the ocean beyond.

Seconds later, Bob skated up beside you, resting with you against the wall and enjoying the same view. “Pretty beautiful, huh?” he asked, gazing down at you.

“Insanely beautiful,” you agreed, resting your hand over his and squeezing gently. “I’m so glad we’re here.”

“Me, too,” Bob nodded, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “But it doesn’t matter what we’re doing. I’m just so glad to be with you.”

“Honey,” you breathed out, touched by the sweetness of his words. They actually made you well up a little bit.

“I mean it, sweetheart. It’s not the things we do that make days like this special. It’s getting to do them with you. That’s all I really wanted. I’ve missed you these past few weeks,” he confessed.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Bob was quiet for a moment, just holding you close and resting his cheek atop your head.

“I love you so much, you know,” you told him, lifting your head to press a kiss to his jaw.

“I know,” he nodded, his mouth turning up in a tender smile. “I love you, too. More than anything.”

After a couple moments of comfortable silence, you took his hand and started to push away from the wall. “Come on, let’s go show everybody what an amazing skater you are,” you laughed, nearly toppling over in your eagerness. Thankfully, Bob had some of the quickest reflexes you’d ever seen and was there to catch you.

He was always there to catch you.

You and your husband spent the next hour twirling around on the ice, you trying your best not to fall and Bob trying his best to keep you from falling. By the time your legs were starting to ache in protest, the sun was just beginning to set over the beach, the sky exploding in hues of orange, pink, and red.

“Isn’t that the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen?” you whispered in awe, resting your cheek against your husband’s strong chest and soaking in the moment.

“A close second to you,” Bob replied, chuckling at the adorable way you got all flustered at his compliment. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get those skates off you.”

Stepping off the rink, Bob carefully guided you to a nearby bench and sat you down before squatting in front of you to untie your laces.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” you asked softly, reaching out to lightly caress his flushed cheek as he ministered to you.

“I ask myself the same thing every day when I get to wake up beside you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your knee before pulling your skates off. He then rose and plopped down beside you on the bench, pulling off his own skates with ease.

After you returned your rental skates and collected your things, Bob stopped you on the pathway near the beach and looked down at you.

“I hope you’ve worked up an appetite after all this,” he told you, a knowing smile on his face. “Because we’ve got one more stop.”

“We do? Oh, Bobby! This day has already been so special. I can’t imagine how it could get any better,” you declared, wondering what more he could possibly have in store.

“Wait and see,” Bob winked, taking your hand as you began strolling off hotel property and towards where you had parked “Oh, and I’ve got a little something in the car for you to change into.”

The last thing on earth you had been expecting when your husband handed you a small duffel bag out of the trunk of the car was to open it up and find the beautiful red dress you’d worn last Christmas—the one Bob hadn’t been able to stop gushing about or get you out of fast enough after Christmas dinner—and your favorite pair of high heels, plus the diamond studs and pendant he’d gifted you last year, the ones you only wore on very special occasions.

And yet, there you were, sitting beside your husband in the passenger seat of his car in your holiday finest, flying along the open road towards some unknown destination.

You weren’t the only one who had changed after your ice skating escapades. Bob had packed a second duffel, it seemed, for when you had returned from getting changed, he was waiting for you, no longer clad in his crew neck and jeans, but in a pair of black slacks and a dinner jacket, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

“For you,” he said with a wide smile, handing you a small bouquet of red and white roses—another surprise he’d been hiding in that trunk of his.

You held the sweet-smelling flowers close to your nose now as Bob made a few turns, heading in a direction that was not totally familiar to you.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” you whispered softly, a hint of emotion catching in your voice as you rested the beautiful bouquet in your lap. You couldn’t wait to put it in one of your Christmas vases when you got home and proudly display it on the coffee table in the living room.

Bob glanced over at you as he came to a red light, his blue eyes brimming with adoration as he soaked in how happy and content you looked. “You deserve it,” he told you, reaching out to rest a hand on your thigh, his fingers lightly stroking the inside of your knee. “You deserve all this and so much more. And I’m so lucky to be the man who gets to give it to you—or try anyway,” he added with a sheepish laugh.

Before the light could turn green, you leaned over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. “You succeed,” you murmured against his lips. “Every time. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

“I love you,” he smiled, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb before returning both hands to the wheel, ignoring the disgruntled driver who was honking behind him.

You giggled as you settled back in your seat with a happy sigh. “I love you, too, honey.” You paused for a moment or two, then tacked on, “Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“Nice try,” Bob laughed, shooting you a sideways glance. “I haven’t spoiled any of my surprises today. You think I’m going to start now?”

“Oh, fine,” you replied, heaving a dramatic sigh and then grinning. “I can’t wait to find out what it is though.”

“I have a feeling you’re really going to love it,” he said, his smile warmer than the San Diego sun as he tapped his hands excitedly on the steering wheel, his own anticipation building.

“I know I will,” you nodded, lifting the bouquet of roses to your nose once more and taking a delicate sniff. “I love anything so long as I’m doing it with you.”

A few minutes later, Bob made a final turn that led the two of you up a winding, gorgeously manicured road. Leaning forward, you gazed out the window eagerly, trying to place exactly where you were. At that exact moment, a large sign came into view that read FAIRMONT GRAND DEL MAR.

Gasping in delight, you practically had your nose smushed against the glass as your husband drove past stunning gardens and twinkling fountains, all decked out with the most darling, demure decorations you had ever seen.

Fairmont Grand Del Mar was one of the most luxurious and glamorous hotels in all of Southern California, and while it was basically right in your own backyard, you had never stepped foot on its grounds before.

You suddenly found yourself very grateful that your jeans and sweater were safely tucked away in a duffel bag. Thank goodness your brilliant husband thought of everything.

“Oh my goodness, Bobby!” you squealed, covering your mouth to try to control the delighted laughter that was bubbling up inside you. But it was no use. “It’s so beautiful here!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Bob hummed in agreement, taking in the view as he slowed his pace along the property’s winding pathways. “A beautiful girl in a beautiful place. Sounds about right to me,” he added, eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

You just smiled at that, a pleasant warmth rushing to your cheeks as you tried to take in as much of the views as you could. As if the hotel grounds weren’t breathtaking enough on their own, they’d clearly gone to great lengths to turn the property into a winter wonderland for the holidays and they had more than succeeded. You loved every inch of it.

Moments later, after Bob had helped you out of the car and handed his keys off to a valet parker, he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you into the lobby of what seemed to be one of the hotel’s restaurants. It was elegantly designed, with Persian rugs and cream-colored marble walls, scrolled detailing on the ceiling, and a roaring fireplace to give the room a cozy, inviting atmosphere. It was decorated for the season with class—golden candelabras, dark red poinsettias, aromatic garland wrapped in red ribbons and bows, giant wreaths practically the size of you hanging on the walls.

It felt like a little Christmas paradise.

You were thankful for Bob’s strong hand on your back, guiding you along as you tripped over your own two feet, gazing around the room in unabashed awe.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he whispered in your ear as you approached the host stand. “I’ll make sure to take lots of pictures of you in that gorgeous dress with this perfect Christmas backdrop,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I want you in the pictures, too,” you whispered back, grinning as you squeezed his hand where it was resting on your hip. “Too bad we didn’t think to come here for our Christmas card photo,” you added, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Next year,” Bob winked. He managed to tear his gaze away from you only when the two of you finally got to the stand and the hostess looked at you expectantly.

“Good evening,” she said in a voice that was calm, cool, and cultured. “Do you have a reservation with us tonight?”

“Yes,” Bob told her, squeezing your hip softly as he spoke. “Dinner for two. It should be under Floyd.”

The hostess checked her computer screen and smiled. “Ah, yes. We’re pleased to welcome you tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Floyd. Please, follow me,” she said, leading you through a small maze of elegantly set tables, bedecked with what appeared to be antique tablecloths, romantic candles, and subtle hints of holly and garland.

The three of you finally came to a stop at a cozy table right near a window which overlooked the gardens, a twinkling Christmas tree right in your line of vision.

“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess told you as the two of you got settled in your seats. “We hope you very much enjoy our special Christmas menu here at Fairmont Grand Del Mar,” she added with a gracious smile before turning to head back to her post.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a soft smile, maintaining every ounce of decorum you could possibly muster until the woman was out of earshot. Then you let out a delighted squeal, the same sound you used to make when opening your presents on Christmas morning as a little girl. “Bobby! This is incredible! How did you manage this?” you demanded, gaping at him in amazement. Then you giggled. “Wait, let me guess. Mav knows another guy?”

“Amazing,” you grinned, squeezing his hand lovingly. “Don’t let me forget to thank Mav and Reuben when I see them at the party.”

“Just Mav and Reuben?” he teased, pretending to be wounded.

You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice as you told him, “Well I’m going to give you a proper thank you tonight.” Your eyes sparkled in tandem with the diamond pendant hanging around your neck.

Bob’s cheeks turned bright pink as he caught your meaning, and he reached up to tug lightly at the collar of his shirt, clearing his throat.

Winking, you leaned back with a smile. Your husband was saved from having to come up with a reply by the sudden appearance of your waiter, an older, dignified man named Antonio, who greeted you both warmly as he shared some drink recommendations.

Despite the fact that Bob hardly ever drank, he ordered the two of you a bottle of champagne that came highly recommended, which Antonio happily delivered along with a bucket of ice.

“To you, sweetheart,” Bob toasted, lifting the flute that your waiter had filled just a moment earlier. “This time of year wouldn’t be half as special if it wasn’t for you.”

“No, to you,” you smiled, raising your own champagne flute to mirror your husband’s. “Today was beyond words, and none of it would have been possible without you.”

“To us then,” he grinned, compromising as he tipped his glass towards you.

“To us,” you nodded in agreement, lightly clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. “Mmm, that’s delicious,” you murmured appreciatively, licking a drop of the champagne off your lip.

“Mhm,” Bob hummed, looking almost surprised. “I mean, not that I have much to compare to, but I’d say this is the best champagne I’ve ever had.”

“Better than at our wedding?” you joked.

“I stand corrected. This is the second best champagne I’ve ever had,” he chuckled.

You and Bob relaxed into smooth and easy conversation. Both your mothers would have scolded you for resting your elbows on the table, especially in such a fancy restaurant, but neither of you cared as you leaned in closer to one another, whispering over the candlelight as the twinkling lights outside the window illuminated your lovestruck faces. Faintly, in the distance, you could hear the soft sounds of classic Christmas tunes being played on a piano. It was the most perfect evening you could have imagined.

The food was some of the best you’d ever tasted. After much debate, you finally settled on the filet mignon with a bearnaise sauce, roasted vegetables, and what had to be the world’s creamiest mashed potatoes, while Bob selected the pork medallions with roasted garlic fingerling potatoes and a brussel sprout salad. Although really it was hard to say who had ordered what considering the way you kept picking food off each other’s plates.

By the time the sour-cherry cheesecake trifle that the two of you had ordered for the grand finale came out, you felt like you were going to burst right out of your pretty red dress. But like you always said, there was always room for dessert.

“You want to know the craziest thing?” you asked, looking up at Bob as you set your fork down on the plate resting between you and your husband. When he nodded at you, you went on, “I just realized that I didn’t think about any of my holiday planning at all today—the shopping, my work party, the parties we’re hosting, none of it. It didn’t cross my mind at all even though it’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few weeks. Isn’t that funny?”

Bob set his fork down as well and gazed at you from across the table, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. “Good,” he said, reaching out to take your hand in his once more, gently playing with your wedding band. “That was my mission, and it sounds like it was a success. I wanted today to be a day where you just got to have fun and enjoy this time of year. I know how much it means to you, and I also know that it’ll be over in the blink of an eye, so we have to make the most of it while we can.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you felt the corners of your eyes pricking with happy tears. Your husband was truly the most thoughtful, selfless, caring man you had ever known. You would never know what you had ever done to get so lucky as to find him.

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, mimicking his actions and lightly rolling his wedding band underneath your finger as you reached for his other hand. You were quiet for a moment, then thought of his words from earlier, the words that had been niggling the back of your mind on and off since you’d left the ice skating rink. “What you said before,” you began slowly, chewing on your bottom lip, “about missing me these past few weeks. Have I really been that busy? I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Bob gasped, squeezing your hands tightly in his own. “I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty. I’ve just been worried about you, that’s all. You’re always so happy this time of year, and I know how much it means to you, so I hate to see you running yourself ragged like you have been. I guess I was starting to be afraid that you were going to burn yourself out before Christmas even got here.”

Your heart constricted at the genuine concern in his voice, at the way he was always looking out for you, even when you weren’t paying careful enough attention.

“And I have missed you,” he added softly, lifting one of your hands to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to it.

“I’ve missed you, too, honey,” you whispered, your throat clogging with emotion as you thought of the many nights you’d come home later than usual after running to the stores after work, too tired to curl up on the couch and watch a movie with your husband or just get to enjoy his company. “And you’re right—I have been running myself ragged. I can feel it. I’ve been so tired, and I feel like I don’t even have the time to enjoy all my favorite traditions.” You sighed softly, shaking your head. “I just—I just wanted everything to be perfect this year, you know?”

“It always is perfect,” Bob murmured encouragingly, gently stroking the inside of your wrist with his calloused fingertips, his movements slow and soothing.

“I know, but with it being our first married Christmas, I guess I just wanted it to be really perfect. I got it into my head that we needed to start all these new traditions and that I had to keep on top of everything at all times to make sure that it happened, but now I’m realizing that in the process of all that, I lost sight of what’s most important about celebrating our first Christmas as husband and wife—you,” you admitted, reaching up to lovingly cup his cheek in your hand.

He smiled softly at your words, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the inside of your palm. “Sweetheart, the good news is that we have a whole lifetime of making traditions together. So long as it’s you and me, then that’s all I need,” he promised you.

You nodded, a couple stray tears spilling down your cheeks, which you wiped away with a sheepish little laugh. “You’re right. Today was a pretty good start to some Floyd Christmas traditions, I think,” you told him with a grin.

Bob reached out to thumb away the tears sparkling like diamonds on your skin. “I agree,” he smiled. “But the truth is, I don’t care what we’re doing. We could go ice skating on the beach or watch a movie on the couch. We could have a five-star dinner at the Fairmont Grand Del Mar or eat take-out on the kitchen floor.” He glanced around for a moment, just to check if anyone had heard him, his blue eyes laughing as he turned back to you. “I just want to do it with you. That’s what Christmas really means to me, sweetheart. All the other stuff, that’s icing on the cake.”

“I love you so much,” you whispered, leaning across the table and capturing his mouth with your own, the taste of sour cherries and champagne still clinging to his lips.

His fingers tangled in your hair as he cradled the back of your head and kissed you back until you were both sitting breathless in your chairs.

“You’re the love of my life,” he told you. “No matter how many traditions come and go, that’s one thing that will never change.”

As soon as you and Bob got home that night, exhausted in the best way after a perfect day together, you both ran to change into the Christmas pajamas you’d worn last Christmas Eve, then curled up on the couch with steaming mugs of hot cocoa to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas.

“Tired?” Bob asked softly as the Peanuts crew sang ��Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” while the credits rolled.

“Mmm, a little,” you nodded, lifting your head from where it had been resting on his shoulder.

“Ready to head to bed?” he yawned, pushing the blanket back and rising from the couch before turning to hold his hands out to you.

“Mhm,” you murmured, slipping your hands into your husband’s and allowing him to pull you to your feet. “But not to go to sleep just yet,” you added pointedly.

At your husband’s raised brows, you giggled softly.

“I still have to properly thank you for today,” you reminded him with a playful wink.

You had never seen him move so fast.

That Christmas turned out to be one of the best you’d ever celebrated. Your work party went off without a hitch, the Daggers were already talking about how they needed to make a party at the Floyds’ an annual Christmas tradition, and your families loved getting to spend the holidays together as one huge unit. Every gift you’d purchased was well received and every meal you cooked was touted as the best anyone had ever eaten.

But that wasn’t what made it so special.

As you had been reminded this year, Christmas was about so much more than the planning and the presents and the parties. Those things were nice, sure, but they weren’t what made this time of year so magical.

What made this Christmas so perfect was the handsome man with blue eyes and a wide smile waiting for you beneath the mistletoe.

He was the only gift you needed, today and every day for the rest of your life.

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hermitblurbs · 3 years ago

Text

Grian has been staring at the sweet in his hands for far too long. Scar figures it’s probably time for him to say something.

“Something up, G?” He asks, bending at the waist to get a good look at his boyfriend's face.

“Are you sure this is edible?” Comes the response, immediate.

“100 percent positive!” He chirps. Grian looks at him, really looks at him. Scar knows his boyfriend’s picking apart the details of his smile, and he knows his boyfriend knows that he knows he’s doing that. He makes his smile as sugary sweet as possible.

Grian’s eyebrow twitches, and Scar has to hold back a laugh.

“Why is it this offensive shade of pink?”

“Kissed by fairies.” He found the pink food coloring, and no one stopped him.

Grian doesn’t need to know that though. Or he already does. They’re in the kitchen together pretty often.

“Kissed by fairies,” his boyfriend repeats, the corner of his mouth twitching. The first crack in his denial phrase. Denial of beautiful, homemade sweets.

“There’s no sweeter thing!” He sells with a flourish of his hands.

“What about a vex’s kiss?”

Scar overbalances, catching himself on a nearby table. He laughs, a little flustered, a little impressed at how quick that response was.

"I can give you that too,” he grins.

"Well what are you waiting for?"

"For you to eat your treat, silly!"

Grian laughs, and he reaffirms it as his favorite sound in the world. It rings like a bell, his head thrown back with the strength of it. It takes the air from his lungs to ring, and Scar wonders how on earth he could have gotten so lucky.

He stoops again just to press a kiss beneath Grian's jaw and hear him squawk.

"So are you going to eat it?" He asks as Grian collects himself, collects his shulker to continue building. Just what he was doing before Scar flew in and distracted him with neon pink mini-cakes.

Grian takes a moment to reach out and vanish the sweet to his inventory, probably to keep it fresh.

"In a bit. Want to help me with this alley?" He offers.

Scar grins, affection blooming feather soft in his chest and holding him tight.

Grian abruptly looks away, blushing with a shifting of his shulker.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He asks, smile warming his words.

“Like I built you the sun.”

“Why would you need to build the sun when you shine so bright yourself?”

He means every word of it. He knows Grian sees it too, ever the observant one.

“Come on,” his boyfriend huffs.

There's nothing Scar can do but follow, smile never falling from his face.

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

Text

Love Sick

Masterlist

Summary: A story about how Spencer’s worst decision ever somehow ends up being his best.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! This fic is loosely based on a request I got about Spencer faking an illness to keep the reader from going on a date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: swearing

Word Count: 4k

Spencer has done a terrible, awful thing.

He wants to argue that he doesn’t know what came over him, but that would be untrue and he’s already met today’s quota on little white lies. Spencer knows exactly what possessed him to call you up at seven thirty on a Saturday night, and it wasn’t so that the two of you could discuss the weather or the recent upward trend in the stock market. Spencer’s spontaneous (panicked) phone call to you was a brazen attempt to abate the green-eyed monster that had been whispering dreadful things in his ear for the better part of a week.

To put it simply; Spencer is jealous, and he’s dealing with it rather poorly.

So poorly that he’s resorted to sabotage.

As he sits on his couch and worries at a hole in the bottom of his designated lounging sweatshirt, Spencer attempts to justify his actions. His tiny fib won’t hurt anyone . . . except, perhaps, one annoyingly perfect and stupidly handsome veterinarian. But Spencer can live with that. Potentially scorning an animal care specialist isn’t the thing that has his stomach in knots. That, he can live with. Spencer doesn’t even have pets, so there’s no longterm consequences as far as the vet is concerned. The notion of lying to you, on the other hand?

Spencer is positively sick with nerves.

He’s not sure why. Spencer’s gotten rather good at lying to you. Several months of pining for you from across the hallway of your shared apartment complex has turned him into quite the master of deceit, after all. He was a sucker from the moment he opened his door and lay his eyes on you, arms outstretched and wielding a plate of homemade sweets. The cookies were lovely, but the breathtaking smile on your face is what really did him in.

Since that first day, Spencer’s gone out of his way to ensure that he’s on the receiving end of that smile as often as possible. His efforts are never in vain; for reasons unbeknownst to him, you seem to enjoy spending time with him just as much as he did you. This mutual fondness results in most of Spencer’s off days being spent in your company. Spencer was certain that, with time, he would work up the nerve to ask you out on a date. He’s halfway to convincing himself that you might even say yes when your cat makes the unfortunate decision to steal a brownie from your plate and gulp the whole thing down.

Enter, aforementioned veterinarian.

The sound of your door opening from across the hall has Spencer breaking out into a cold sweat. His hand is halfway to his forehead, ready to wipe away the perspiration when he pauses. His body’s anxious reaction might just help him sell his story. Yes, Spencer thinks, this is a good thing. Authenticity, and all that.

Several soft footsteps are muffled by the door that separates him from you, and then his doorknob jiggles as you struggle to fit your key into the lock. A jolt of adrenaline surges through Spencer and in the blink of an eye he’s on his feet and sprinting to his bathroom in the name of authenticity. If he wants to keep up this ridiculous façade, and he really, really does, Spencer is prepared to fake it until he makes it. The alternative is far too mortifying. Failure is not an option.

Spencer cringes when he lifts his eyes to meet his reflection. He’s been told more than once that he’s an absolutely terrible liar, and the wide, guilty eyes that stare back at him confirm this. All it will take is one look at him and you’ll know something’s amiss. Perhaps it isn’t too late for Spencer to come clean. It would be embarrassing, yeah, but no less embarrassing than it would be an hour from now when you call him on his shit. But then again, there is always the possibility that you will get angry with him and leave, and Spencer isn’t willing to risk you walking away from him. Not tonight.

Spencer barely has the time to splash some cold water on his face and dive to the bathroom floor before you’re pushing open the door to his apartment and calling out his name. His brain, the part that isn’t rendered useless in his panicked state, reminds him of just how many germs can be found on the average bathroom floor. It’s enough to make him pause, but only for a moment. He takes a deep breath before slumping over against the toilet.

Showtime.

“M’ in here,” Spencer calls out in his croakiest voice. It comes out exactly as he intended, all rough and pitiful. Maybe he can pull this off, after all.

The soft pitter patter of your bare feet makes his heart rate increase exponentially. Spencer steels himself, recites a reassuring mantra in his head. I can do this; I can do this.

Spencer’s poor, overworked heart gets a much-needed rest when you step into the doorway. In fact, he’s almost certain it stops completely at the sight of you in a tiny red dress. A tiny red dress that leaves very little to the imagination. Spencer can’t even see past his mounting panic to enjoy the way you look. That damn red dress serves as a brutal reminder of why he’s sitting in his bathroom floor, clutching his toilet bowl and damn near drowning in a nervous sweat.

The thing is, Spencer hadn’t intended on sabotaging your date with the vet. He had every intention of staying in, wallowing in his sorrows and waiting up for you. Spencer even said this to Derek, who was kind enough to call him and remind him of how big of a jackass he was. Spencer didn’t need the reminder. He was well aware.

But then Derek said something that made Spencer’s blood run cold.

“And what exactly do you plan to do if she doesn’t come home?”

So, really, it’s Derek’s fault that Spencer promptly ended the call and dialed your number. It’s also Derek’s fault that Spencer is about to give the most convincing performance of his entire fucking life.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just feel so awful.” And he does feel awful, just not in the way you think.

You’re quick to close the distance between the two of you, dropping to your knees and brushing stray pieces of hair away from Spencer’s clammy forehead. His skin sings where your hand grazes it. If he didn’t have a fever before, he will if you don’t stop touching him.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spence. I wish you’d have called me sooner,” you murmur. Warm, concerned eyes drag across Spencer’s bedraggled appearance. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

Spencer gulps. “A few hours, I guess. I ate my leftovers from last night for lunch. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.”Lies, lies, lies!

Your brow furrows. “That’s strange. I ate mine, too, and I feel fine.”

Spencer doesn’t really have an argument for that, so he fakes a pained groan and rests his head against his arm. He closes his eyes and prays the intro to theater class he took in high school will pay off.

You must deem his act convincing enough because you press a soft kiss to the top of his hair and stand. Spencer hears the sound of a cabinet opening, followed by the sound of running water.

The tender touch of your hand on his shoulder has him raising his head and looking up at you, inquisitive. You place a cold washrag to his forehead, and Spencer melts into the touch. It feels heavenly against his hot skin.

“Do you think you could manage to take a shower?” you prompt, earning a feeble nod from Spencer. He doesn’t even have to fake the way he trembles as you run the damp cloth down his neck. “I think I have some broccoli and cheddar soup at my apartment. I’ll go change and grab it while you shower.”

Elation spreads through Spencer, pouring from his heart until it reaches the very tips of his extremities. He can’t believe his scheme hasn’t blown up in his face already.

With the help of your outstretched hand, Spencer rises to his feet and braces himself against the shower door. You make no move to remove your hand from his, and that gives him the courage to ask his next question.

“What about your date?”

You shrug and an easy smile spreads across your face. Spencer feels faint. He blames it on his imaginary illness.

“Don’t worry about that. The only thing I’m concerned with right now is taking care of you.”

Spencer bites down hard on the flesh of his cheek to keep a smug grin at bay. This is a victory he’ll have to celebrate at a later date.

Spencer enters his living room, freshly showered and donned in clean pajamas, to the sound of your voice speaking quietly into your cellphone. He halts just before he enters his kitchen, straining to catch a snippet of your conversation. As he leans closer to the sound of your voice, Spencer halfheartedly chastises himself. First, he deceives you, now he’s resorting to eavesdropping. Rock, meet bottom.

He’s just about to wrench himself away and retreat to the couch, when:

“I really am sorry about cancelling, especially on such short notice.” A short stretch of silence follows. “Next Saturday? Oh. Um, yeah, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Spencer is very much like a popped balloon; the earlier feelings of elation leave him in a harsh gust. Next Saturday? He barely managed to derail this Saturday’s date! No way he could get away with it a second time.

In the midst of his inner turmoil, Spencer misses you exchanging goodbyes with the vet before collecting Spencer’s bowl of soup. He’s still standing there, absolutely crestfallen, when you round the corner. You nearly collide with his chest, narrowly avoiding it by skidding to a halt in front of him. Your eyes run up his frame, assessing him, until they rest on his face.

“You scared me, Spence,” you chuckle. You cock your head to the side. Spencer imagines his expression is none dissimilar to that of a disgruntled frog. “You feeling okay? You’re not going to puke again, are you?”

Honestly, he might. The idea of you rescheduling your date with the vet is about as vomit inducing as it gets.

“I’m fine,” Spencer says on an exhale. Funnily, it’s probably the biggest lie he’s told all day. “The shower helped.”

His delivery is flat, but you don’t seem to mind. You smile up at him, relieved, and Spencer’s chest aches.

“I was thinking you and I could watch a movie?” you offer, and Spencer nods his assent. He can’t fathom turning you down. Not when you’re wearing an old sweatshirt you stole from his closet and a pair of fuzzy socks with little hearts on them. The ache intensifies.

“What are we watching?”

You plop down on the couch and look at him expectantly. He follows in suit, settling in beside you.

“I was thinking that you could choose,” you murmur as you place the bowl in his hands. Spencer shoots a teasing smile your way as he raises the spoon to his mouth.

“You mean, you’re actually going to let me pick the movie? I should get sick more often.”

His cheek earns him an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “You always pick the movie.”

He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s gotten to pick the movie.

Spencer is about to launch into an impassioned rebuttal when the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp renders him speechless. His eyes dart to your face as you concentrate on scrolling through the TV guide, seemingly unaware of the effect the simple act has on him. Meanwhile, Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.

You begin to read off a list of potential movies to him, but Spencer barely hears you. He’s practically purring as you twirl his curls around lithe fingers, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as an intense feeling of euphoria washes over him. Maybe it’s because he’s touch starved, or maybe it’s because it’s been so long since someone just looked after him. Whatever it is, Spencer embraces it wholeheartedly.

“-heard it’s pretty good. So, what do you say, Spence?”

Spencer pulls himself back to the present, blinking lazily at you. You’re looking at him, expectant, and Spencer’s eyes flit to the TV. His eyes skim its contents, reading briefly about a movie in which some family moves into a haunted house.

His face breaks out into a grin and he nods, because Spencer’s known you long enough to recognize that watching a horror movie usually results in you pressed tightly to his side and clinging to his hand. He also knows that nine times out of ten, you choose to watch a horror movie over anything else. No wonder he always lets you choose.

And sure enough, not even ten minutes in, Spencer is ditching his bowl of soup and pulling you into his arms. Once you’ve draped a blanket around the two of you settled in, you glance up at him.

“How are you feeling, Spence?”

Spencer responds by saying that he’s suddenly feeling much better.

Spencer Reid - 1, Veterinarian – 0

Spencer’s not sure at which point he fell asleep. All he knows is that he certainly does not remember sprawling out across your body, nor does he remember tucking his head into the crook of your neck. But this is how he finds himself when the sun begins to pour in through his windows the next morning, and Spencer can’t bring himself to care about how he came to be there.

Spencer guesstimates that it’s no later than seven in the morning. You’re still fast asleep underneath him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. It’s early, and it’s Sunday, and Spencer can’t think of a single reason to wake you. Instead, he snuggles in closer, because he’d be a fool not to enjoy this while it lasts.

Unfortunately, the shrill sound of Spencer’s ringing phone shatters the serenity. He prays that it won’t disturb you, that you’ll remain oblivious and continue to sleep, but that hope is shattered when you begin to shift underneath him. Spencer makes quick work of peeling himself off of you before dashing to his kitchen and snatching his phone off the table.

He’s prepared to verbally assault whoever has the audacity to defile the sanctity of lazy Sunday mornings when a quick peek into the living room finds you still fast asleep on his sofa. He smiles, soft and fond, before pressing the accept button and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive.” Spencer’s smile transforms into a grimace. Apparently, Derek Morgan doesn’t believe in lie-ins. “I was preparing myself for a rescue mission.”

“It’s seven in the morning. I was asleep.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Who pissed in your Cheerios, Pretty Boy?”

“You, when you decided that it was acceptable to ring me before eight,” Spencer whisper shouts. He knows that he’s being touchy, to say the least, but who can blame him? Five minutes ago, he was cuddling with the most beautiful girl he’s ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Now, he’s shooting the breeze with a colleague. Obviously, Spencer would prefer the former to the latter.

“Jesus, kid. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that girl of yours didn’t make it home, after all. You okay?”

The guilty feeling returns and Spencer cringes. “Uh, define ‘okay.’”

Derek curses on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, kid. Try not to beat yourself up about it, okay? There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you’ve just gotta put yourself out there. How’s this; you and me will go out next weekend and bar hop. I’ll teach you some Derek Morgan tricks of the trade. Soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about her.”

“I don’t know, that might be hard.” Spencer scratches the back of his neck. “She’s asleep on my couch right now.”

A long stretch of silence comes from the other end of the line, and Spencer thinks for a moment that the call dropped. Unfortunately, he isn’t that lucky. A booming laugh erupts from the speaker and makes him jump out of his skin.

“My man!” Derek laughs, incredulous. “I didn’t think you had it in you, I’ll be honest.”

“It’s not what you think-”

“How did you manage that? Did the Good Doctor make a grand romantic gesture? Damn, I really hate that I missed that.”

“No, there were no gestures. And it’s not-”

Derek cuts him off. Again. “How’d she take the news? I’m assuming she took it well, if she stayed the night.”

“I didn’t tell her anything!” Spencer spits out, frustrated. “I… I told her I was sick. She came over to take care of me, and we fell asleep on the couch.”

Spencer’s proclamation is met with another long silence.

“So, you sabotaged the date?”

Spencer winces. “I did not sabotage it. I just… manipulated the situation a little.”

“Oh, you certainly did,” Derek chuckles. “How did you pull that off? I’ve seen you try to lie. That shit is laughable.”

Spencer opens his mouth to defend himself, but the pitter patter of socked feet approaching him from behind has his mouth running dry.

“Yeah, Spencer. How did you pull that off?”

Spencer had been correct in his earlier assumptions. The inevitable moment in which you called him out on his shit has arrived, and it’s every bit as mortifying as he expected. So mortifying that he can practically feel the blood drain from his face. And the thing is that he knows he deserves whatever you’re about to throw his way… it’s just that the thought of you being angry with him kind of makes him want to cry. And that would only add to the mortification.

He turns around slowly, his body rigid, until he’s met with the adorably rumpled vision of you with your arms crossed and your hair sticking up in all directions.

Spencer’s never seen anything quite so mesmerizing, and it hurts because he knows he’s ruined everything. He’ll never get to watch another scary movie with you tucked neatly against his side, or wake up in your arms again. He’ll never get to kiss you.

And the worst of all; Spencer will never get to tell you how he really feels. It’s a crying shame, because he thinks he could have been really good at loving you.

“Hey, Derek, I gotta go.”

Spencer presses the end call button and immerses himself in what has to be the most awkward stand-off of all time. You stand there, arms crossed, head cocked to the side with one hip jutted out. Spencer isn’t sure how you manage to look intimidating and endearing at the same time. He supposes the fuzzy socks are to blame.

Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. Spencer is approximately three seconds away from dropping to his knees and groveling when you finally speak.

“You sabotaged my date.”

Spencer lets out a strangled laugh. Perhaps humor is the way to go? It couldn’t hurt to try. In his opinion, the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. “I think sabotage is a strong word. I prefer the term obstruct.”

You let loose a laugh of your own, but this one holds no humor. “And I prefer keeping the company of people who don’t lie to me.” Okay, maybe it can get worse.

Spencer visibly deflates. It was a stupid idea. He’s never been a funny guy.

“I am so, so, so incredibly sorry.” Sorry for lying to you, that is. Spencer isn’t in the least bit apologetic for ruining your date. Given the chance, he’d do it again - in a more tactful way, of course. Preferably, in such a way that didn’t involve him laying in his bathroom floor.

Spencer attempts to take a step forward, only to be rooted to the spot when you fix him with a look. He’s not funny but he is smart – smart enough to know better than to push it.

“Why did you do it?”

Spencer was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that.

“I-I…”

Apparently, an eidetic memory doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to confrontations involving pretty girls. One quirk of an immaculately plucked eyebrow and Spencer loses the ability to recall a single word of the English language. It’s tragic, really.

“Spit it out, Spencer.”

“I didn’t want you to go on the date.” It’s like ripping off a band aid, the way the words tumble from his lips. It’s painless at first, but then the sting sets in when he realizes what he’s done.

Your lack of reaction doesn’t help. Your face remains passive, as if he didn’t just offer himself to you on a silver platter. Spencer squirms uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you want me to go on the date?”

God, this is excruciating. You’re clearly out for blood, and the twinkle in your eye shows just how much you’re enjoying this. Spencer would have never taken you for a sadist.

“Because…” Spencer trails off and allows his eyes to drift closed. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it his way. With his eyes closed, because he can’t bear the thought of looking you in the eye when you reject him. “B-Because I like you. A lot.”

Spencer hasn’t had a lot of practice at being wrong. In fact, he’s spent the majority of his life being right. It seems the universe is making up for that now, because he can’t seem to get a single goddamn thing right today.

You laugh at him. You actually laugh in his face. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“You like me.” It isn’t a question.

Spencer keeps his eyes shut tight.

“Y-Yeah.”

You know how they say if you take away one of a person’s senses, all of the others are heightened? Spencer couldn’t disagree more. In the midst of his despair, he’s completely unaware that you’ve crossed the room and are now standing directly in front of him until you speak again.

“Well, that’s rather unfortunate,” you sigh. Spencer inhales a sharp breath when he realizes you’re close enough to touch. Still, he keeps his eyes closed.

“Uh, why is that?”

Spencer nearly jumps out of his skin when your hand reaches up and caresses the side of his jaw.

“Because, Spencer,” you murmur, silky and sweet. “I was hoping you just might love me.”

Spencer’s eyes fly open and he’s greeted by a lazy, contented smile. It’s similar to the one that greeted him when he opened his front door on that very first day, but it’s better somehow. Later reflection will determine that it’s better because it’s the kind of smile reserved just for him. And that’s all he’s ever wanted, really.

“W-What?”

“You heard me.” You tilt your head up and rest your palm on Spencer’s chest. His heartbeat is erratic, thundering hard against his ribcage. He’d surely be embarrassed if he wasn’t about to faint from shock. “Do you love me, Spencer Reid?”

Spencer doesn’t even have to think twice.

“More than anything.”

“Good.” Your thumb brushes across the apple of his cheek, eliciting a full body shudder. “I was beginning to think you would never catch up.”

Spencer must be hallucinating. That, or this is all a dream and any second now his alarm is going to go off. He subtly pinches himself on the thigh to test the theory. You can imagine his surprise when nothing changes. He doesn’t wake up in a pile of his own drool, and now the skin on his thigh stings.

“You . . . You like me, too?”

You shake your head. “No, Spencer. I love you, too. Why do you think I bake you cookies and spend all of my free time in your apartment?”

“Because my couch is better than yours?” Spencer deadpans.

“I mean, that certainly doesn’t hurt. But it’s not the only reason.”

“What about the vet?” It must be his guilty conscious talking, because Spencer cannot conjure up any other reason he has for asking such a moronic question. He, personally, could not care less about the vet. Full offense intended.

“Cameron is a nice guy, sure,” you trail off. Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift down to his lips before returning to his eyes. “But he’s not really my type.”

“And what is your type, exactly?” A giddy grin finds its way to Spencer’s face. He’s notorious for being chronically clueless, but even the master of imperception himself can see where this is going.

You snort, and it’s adorable. “Liars, apparently.”

It’s impossible to determine who moves first, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the end result of Spencer’s lips colliding with yours. It’s earth-shatteringly lovely; slow and sweet and tentative. There’s no rushing, no frantic fumbling of hands. Just the reverent drag of your lips against his, warm and intoxicating.

Spencer eventually regains the use of his limbs and when he does, he’s snaking one arm around your waist as the other entangles itself in your wonderfully unruly hair.

You sigh a happy sigh against his lips and Spencer’s heart soars. In a completely unforeseen turn of events, the possibility of more lazy Sunday mornings is now back on the table. Thank God he’s better at lying than he gave himself credit for.

God, and Derek Morgan’s meddling ass.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff

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babygirlwolverine · 3 years ago

Text

pick of the patch

Kiss #16 - One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

50 types of kisses collection. Also posted on ao3.

Word Count: 978 words, continued under the read more

“Dean. Dean! Look at these ones,” Cas said with a bright laugh, fingers wrapping around Dean’s wrist as he tugged them through the bales of hay towards another pile of pumpkins; these ones taller and brighter orange than the last ones they’d just seen in the middle of the pumpkin patch. “We need a variation of shapes, don’t you think?”

Truth be told, they’d already amassed 20 pumpkins for their Halloween get-together they were hosting, which apparently wasn’t enough for Cas; not when they’d invited Sam and Eileen and Jack, Jody and the girls, along with Garth and Bess and their twins. There were more pumpkins covering Baby’s backseat than Dean had ever thought possible; splashes of yellow, orange, and deeper rich tones of red filling the car to the brim. But Cas couldn’t stop smiling at Dean as they shared a warm cup of apple cider and slowly walked through the winding pumpkin patch. And God, Dean would do anything to see that smile, so here he was, making a pumpkin patch of his own in the backseat of his car.

“Such a good harvest this year. Did you know all these pumpkins are grown locally?” Cas said as he bent down and ran his fingers over a particularly tall pumpkin with a wistful smile. It reminded Dean of their Sunday trips to the farmers market; how Cas was instinctively drawn to the stalls selling homemade honey and jams.

“Yes, Angel, but only because you’ve told me 10 times already,” Dean said, and goddammit, he was far too fond of the way Cas gravitated towards all things nature. It was endearing, as if Cas’ Grace, even after all these years, still hummed at the same frequency as the natural elements around him.

“This one is perfect,” Cas said, scooping the pumpkin into his arms and standing back up, motioning with his free hand to the cider Dean was still holding.

Dean looked down at the cup and then over to the pumpkin in Cas’ arms and he grinned. Taking a step backwards, he held the cup back out of Cas’ grasp. “Don’t you think we’ve got enough pumpkins already? Baby is full to bursting with how many you’ve managed to cram into the backseat. I don’t think we need any more.”

“There’s still room in the trunk,” Cas pointed out with a shrug.

“Put the pumpkin down and you can have the cider.”

Cas shook his head. “Just one more, Dean,” he said, trailing his fingers along the ridges of the fruit. “I really like this one.”

“You like the other 20 currently wedged in my car, too. I agreed to finish walking around the patch if you didn’t pick up anymore,” Dean pointed out, which, to be fair, really had been the agreement. But Dean knew he was already losing the battle. Half because he really would do anything to see Cas happy, and if that meant another pumpkin, then, yeah, Dean was going to buy it. But also half because he could see the shift in Cas’ expression, and now he knew he really didn’t stand a chance.

Cas looked down at the pumpkin with sad eyes, and then looked back up at Dean with a pout on his lips. He glanced up at Dean through his lashes, eyes softening into pools of blue as tilted his head in that adorable expression that made Dean’s knees weak. “Please Dean?”

God. That pout could bring Dean to his knees.

He couldn’t be blamed if he had a thing for feeling that pout pressed against his own mouth.

Stepping closer, Dean carefully leaned over the pumpkin and pressed his lips to Cas’, stealing a kiss. Cas pouted into the kiss for one second, two, three, and then he was smiling, leaning as far into Dean’s embrace as he could with a pumpkin in his arms.

Dean hummed softly, using his free hand to trail a feather light touch over Cas’ jaw as he kissed the pout away. Cas let out a little gasp, pumpkin wobbling in his grasp as he started to reach out to pull Dean closer.

Laughing into the kiss, Dean pulled away for a second, plucking the pumpkin from Cas’ grasp and placing it on the ground at their feet. He’d barely managed to stand back up before Cas’ hands were on his shirt, pulling him back into the kiss.

This time, there wasn’t a pout on Cas’ lips. When their mouths met, they were both pressing their smiles against each other. Cas nipped at his lip before deepening the kiss; arms wrapping around Dean’s neck.

When Dean had initiated the first kiss, he really had meant for it to just be a simple touch to remove the pout from Cas’ mouth. But now Cas was pressed against him, and between the sweet apple taste on Cas’ tongue mixed with the warm scent of pumpkin in the air, Dean swore his knees were going to give out. Wrapping his arms around Cas’ lower back, Dean leaned further into the kiss until his fingertips snuck under the hem of Cas’ shirt and he trailed a touch along Cas’ spine.

Cas hummed in pleasure, the sound tingling along Dean’s lips as they kissed. God, Dean would give Cas the whole world if it meant he could sneak in kisses like this. When he finally broke the kiss, he tipped their heads until their foreheads were pressed together.

“Is that a yes then? To the pumpkin?” Cas whispered, the words ghosting against Dean’s mouth.

Chasing Cas into another kiss was easy. Giving Cas whatever he wanted was even easier. “Yes,” Dean said into the kiss.

Yes to the pumpkin. Yes to Cas’ lips on his. Yes to spending the rest of their lives going to pumpkin patches and stealing kisses whenever they wanted just because they could.

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goblinshork · 3 years ago

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Ok so what abaut Bodyguard and Agony whith a a naga prince that just hates the royal life and dreams of just having a simple life living in a cottage and selling homemade jewelry, so Reader his childhood best friend, personal bodyguard and person who he feel in love whith decides to make his dream come true (bonus if the prince has a sister so the kingdown whont stay whiout a ruler and she helps Reader whith the plan, bonus+ if the prince is kinda huge and scary to other people but he is just a chill dude that likes to make rings and necklaces)

Short scenario please! (Also sorry if its too long, feel free to just ignore this if you whant)

Not too long at all and I think it's an extremely charming idea! Thank you for sharing; big gruff, undercover sweeties are one of the most Choice(tm) archetypes.

This also got super long, but the vibes were singing to me.

Features: Slight angst, happy ending, kissing

Bodyguard + Agony (Monster Ask Meme)

Hands, Touching Hands (m!Naga x gn!Reader) [3.7k]

“Don’t lie, how many names do you remember?”

Alok yawned, curved fangs peaking out from almost-lips.

“None, thankfully,” he said, scratching at his curls, cut short enough that they barely formed.

“Impressive.”

“Oh—no, you won’t distract me. You agree with me don’t you?”

The book Alok had toyed the entire briefing slammed shut, the many bracelets at his wrist clinking for emphasis when you did not answer.

Watching him unfurl his tense length of tail, broad shoulders rising far above you as he 'stood', there was little to say but, "It’s not my place."

"Then it’s not mine, either."

He slunk toward the door and you picked up the book--the monstrous thing--with your arms rather than your hands before following him.

"Just give it time," you said in a reassurance that was too shallow to drown his mood.

Every move forward looked painful as he slithered forward like a child first learning to move against stone rather than soft grass. Unlike when he was a child, he was stilted by frustration rather than inexperience.

The conversation was left dropped, burning like the weight of the tome in your arms. If you were alone, you'd tell him to carry it. But servants, nobles, and royals passed frequently, all low bows and murmurs, moving on a touch quicker than polite.

When you first arrived to the kingdom, a slave dressed sweetly and presented as a gift, you'd marveled at how anyone could find the royal family intimidating when removed from their wealth and status.

Baby yellow skin and soft pink dapples painted everyone of them. Alok, himself, was more pink than yellow, and it reminded you of those delicate, painted dolls you'd press your face against glass to get a closer look at before being shooed away by the shop-keep.

You supposed little had changed since then, except now you were simply stared at, expected to keep your fingers off the pretty pink glass always, always in front of you.

The hallway Alok stopped moving forward in was empty, private; his. Without a word, you tossed the horrible book toward his crossed arms and swept the windows, floors, and ceiling for anything strange. His fumbling for the book, fingers audibly skimming against pages, made you smile.

"It's clear," you nodded. "Workshop, right?"

Alok deflated a bit, too caught between the mention of his workshop and pretending to have perfectly caught the book to keep his anger stoked.

"You're asking now," he said flat, looking from the book to you.

Putting up your hands in mock defeat, you turned, alert enough.

"I'm not angry at you.” The slits that served for his pupils, deep red and small in their focus on the gem he was cutting, turned to you when you said nothing in response.

“Sorry, I--” was dazzled by your eyes? Was enamored by how passionate you are for perfecting that sparkling little gem? “I know.”

“I just wanted to say it.”

You stretched from your place beside the door, perched on one of the few chairs at your disposal in the entire castle, “Thank you.”

“Don’t be patronizing,” Alok grumbled, pausing in his work. “I know...I know very well you must be tired of this, even if you won’t say it.”

The window was suddenly so interesting, your throat burning as you swallowed down the feeling kindling there.

“This is my home,” you said after hearing the scales of his tail shift closer. “There’s nothing to be tired of.”

Slowly, his hand rose to hover over yours, where it lay on your lap, “But you should be. I’d give you anything you needed. They couldn’t stop me.”

Everything you wanted to say was tucked in the patch of air that separated his touch from yours.

Any person, bought and raised to be singularly loyal would hesitate at the offer of freedom, wouldn’t they?

They’d want to grab his hand, wouldn’t they?

You could only guess as a love for a prince was not something to be said aloud unless you were allowed.

And you, a slave turned body guard, were not.

Standing, you scattered the almost-moment with a shake of your head, “I don’t care about freedom half as much as you think I do.”

His hand fell limp to his side, the slits that served as his nose flaring wide, as you continued.

“I’m your bodyguard and I’ll be your children’s bodyguard and I’ll be the same to whoever you choose from that book,” you finished, thoroughly shooing yourself away, wanting so much to run out the door.

Alok said your name quietly, but you remained silent.

And everything was still until it wasn’t.

In one smooth motion propelled by his sheer size, Alok stretched to the book and hurled it out the open window.

“No, you won’t. I’ll be their prince,” he said low, body suddenly too large for the room. “But I won’t be their king.”

You did run, then.

Perhaps the only place off-limits for a would-be king allergic to potential suitors was his sister’s drawing room.

Adur payed you no attention as she demanded entertainment from the brightly colored darlings and dark patterned beauties of the upper echelon.

“Did you know, I simply adore the pattern of your bangles lately,” she cooed, pointing to a decorated tail. “So perfectly in style.”

She continued on, picking this and that to sigh over, as you stood against the corner that provided the best view of the room, next to the door.

You recognized each piece she fawned over as being similar to something Alok had on display or nearly-done in his workshop. Ah, to know a magician’s tricks.

Melting into a squat, you let their voices wash over you. No heart could hurt for long listening to women enjoy court gossip as much as this bunch did...from a distance.

When you, Alok, and Adur were younger, the rules seemed less stone and more like blades of grass, flexible and beneath you. Adur set you in front of her always revolving group of friends and tried to fit tail bangles around your thighs and waist. Alok insisted you sit side-by-side while studying geography, arithmetic, and etiquette. You lay between them on sunny afternoons, napping, legs touching tails.

But everything golden goes grey eventually.

“Well, do tell me. Did he throw it in the fire?”

You turned from the window, swapping red, setting sun for sharp, red eyes, “Out of the window.”

The room was empty but for you and her now. Adur pacing around, tail making quick work of circling the room as she read from her collection of letters.

“Still the amount of melodrama I expected so,” she shrugged, raising shoulders toward her pleased mouth as a silent finish to her sentence. “I, on the other hand, did pick.”

You rose, legs tingling from the sudden change. “Who?”

“Prince Talsa,” she said after cutting open a letter with her claw, “I’ve already decided on a short engagement and a respectable wedding down south. Perhaps closer to his kingdom than ours.”

“Talsa? Not rare one who everyone’s after?”

Adur looked at you as though you should know better before deigning to explain, “Prince Talsa is rather plain looking for a naga, yes, but that’s just the point.”

“Go on,” you said, wanting so much to be distracted.

“Think about it,” Adur scoffed. “Rare, beautiful babies create wonder amongst people, but children who look as though they could be born anywhere....don’t you see the appeal?”

She leaned against the window, long black hair obscuring her pink and yellow face, “They would be royalty that even the most common of folk could feel familiar to--feel endeared to. Even someone as devoid of charm or pretense as Alok could gain some favor. From their birth, I’ll have them attend every little festival and celebration. Their bond with the people will be unshakable.”

“You’ll make the best queen,” you said, unthinking to the implication.

“Has something happened to Alok?”

“No, you ju--”

Adur turned to you, delicate face empty, “It doesn’t matter what we know. He’s the eldest and alive and destroying a book won’t change that.”

Your hands shook as you laced them together, risking at least your life, by asking:

“What if we could change it?”

Everything in the little room lacked splendor, save the jewelry that her brother displayed to no one but himself, built only to separate Alok from his mentor. A failed attempt to elevate a man too gargantuan to grow further.

Even the flooring was rough on the tail, not smooth stone but brick for retaining heat. Only care for function within these four walls.

Adur noted her brother’s tail was bare as she swept over the lacking room, only his leather work belt draped over the apex where tail met torso. Every bit of jewelry he wore crowded his wrists and fingers, noisy as he worked on some large bangle unfamiliar to her.

He looked haggard, frown too ugly and deep to be a mere product of concentration. Grey tickled the roots of his bangs, pronounced enough to shine in the lamplight. Alok was getting too old to be a prince with only time for his hobby.

“Sometimes I think it would be kinder to simply put you out of your misery,” Adur said, closing the door behind her.

Alok’s back tensed, but he did not pause his work, “I’m surprised you said it out loud, but don’t say it like a joke.”

“Don’t be so serious,” Adur sighed, “of course it was a joke.”

“Where is--”

“Your human delight? Running errands for me.”

Alok did turn then, face flickering through emotions too fast to name, “They’re just as much your dear friend as mine, you little viper.”

“Forgive my callousness, but I find you respond to little else,” Adur said, picking at the sheer fabric of her top so it draped correctly against her arm again. “And perhaps they are my friend. But they are not just yours.”

“I won’t be king...even if they weren’t here.”

Adur laughed in a sizzling tone, forked tongue dancing with humor, “Oh? And I suppose your little fantasies of running away involve you doing so alone?”

Only the flames licking back and forth in the small forge answered her.

“You’re too old to be deluding yourself like this,” she went on, dropping a bottle and a sheer robe on Alok’s work desk. “It’s time to make choices once and for all, brother.”

“I’m not--”

“I’m not asking you to rule. You’d be pathetic at it, yes, I know. If not for our dear human friend, you’d have flunked every tutor save for your precious jewelry maker.”

Alok curled back over his tail, fingers picking at the fabric of the robe his sister had dropped. “Then what are you asking?”

Hand on the doorknob, Adur smiled, “if you had your way and left to live like a common man with your human, would you really never come back?”

“Never.”

Adur opened the door. “Good.”

The drider--Woodnet? Woodne? Wodner?--stayed near the the door as you did, but unlike you his sleek, black legs rested on a few thin lines of webbing where wall met ceiling.

Slowly, Alok raised his face to address the bodyguard, entirely unused to being the short one. Worse still was the struggle to match sights with the correct pair of the drider’s many blinking eyes. If you were here, you’d have nudged him to follow your lead already.

If you were here...this wouldn’t be happening in the first place. Just another wishful thought to swallow down as Alok struggled to stay polite in the face of his father’s prime bodyguard.

“Outside the room is fine,” Alok said in a clipped tone, turning as he did to avoid dealing with anymore niceties.

“Forgive me for questioning, Prince Alok,” the drider said, voice drifting down like floating silk. “But bathing is when you are most vulnerable. I can not help but object to the risk.”

The drider polished each word, in no hurry to finish his sentence and Alok’s eyes rolled once--twice--thrice by the time there was silence. If only this were any guard other than his father’s favorite.

“I understand,” Alok said. “But, the windows are trapped and you will be guarding the only entrance.”

The sound of burdened legs skittering down stone, followed by the opening and closing of the lone, stone door was his answer.

Driders were generally no longer friends of Alok’s kingdom. Wodnel....no, Wodni perhaps, was a relic of a time long gone, when his father was just proving himself a leader of a nation. That Wodnir--that was it, Wodnir--was so protective of Alok, having sparsely been involved with him and having been enslaved through ruthless, warmongering means made Alok’s shoulders bunch, the muscles between protruding over scales.

Is that how it was between you and he? Did you feign fondness and care or was it true? Was it true but maligned of him to hope for it due to how you came to be near him? Because of he was?

Alok disrobed and slunk into the hot water, hoping to drown his pithy doubts that crowded so large in his mind.

Flakes of shed rose to the top the longer he soaked, proof of a difficult shed. There was sure to be more bits to come as he scrubbed himself with the, apparently, ‘to die for’ body scrub his sister had left last week.

You were usually the one to soothe his bubbling stress in a life of constant politics and decorum, but the bits of dead skin were proof enough that Alok truly was getting too old for delusions. You’d only been away for a week and a spare number of days and here he was, so tense that not even a hot bath could unfurl him.

Ugh.

Politics and decorum. How would he survive tonight without you? Adur was announcing her engagement tonight, in tandem with the nobles emerging from their collective sheds at the tail end of the Harvest Festival.

Alok scrubbed himself raw, hoping to emerge a new man who could weather life half as well as everyone around him. But the harder he lathed himself in soap, the clearer the truth rang.

If only he could have you.

You had relieved Wodnier of his duties, thanking him with a bow, and standing stiff beside the door for precious minutes, waiting for his delicate range of hearing to wane.

As an apprentice, you had met Wodnier often enough to know he wished you well as much as any spider did a fly.

Hammering against your chest, you feared the vibration of your heart was loud enough for him to hear. And there was always a chance the door shutting at the end of the curved hallway was a trap; that Wodnier still stood in Alok’s quarters and was not making his way back to the King.

But you didn’t have time to be safe, only quick.

Jittered by adrenaline, you sprinted to Alok’s room---toe first, heel last--and back, holding your breath once you made it back to the door of the bath.

Sweat pooled against your forehead, but nothing sprang toward you sans the faint sounds of Alok bathing.

You slipped past the door, the pack in your hands bulky enough that the door opened wider than you’d wanted, the hinge creaking.

“Alok?”

The figure behind the curtain froze before calling back your name.

“We don’t have much time, Alok,” you pressed in a sure voice, but your legs wobbled as you neared the curtain. “I’m....I’m running away and I’m taking you with me.”

“What?”

Coming past the curtain, your chest could barely contain your quick breathing. His hair was devoid of any gray, blacker than pitch as it fell just above his ear holes and forehead. Muddy brown and maroon scales were sleek and wet, droplets rolling down his body, even near his---

You looked back up quickly, away from where his belt always covered. “I mean, I want us to run away and we need to go now.”

Having followed your wandering gaze toward the apex of his stomach and tail, Alok frantically looked toward his arms, the muddy water, “What in the fuck is this?”

“Adur is helping us,” is all you said and it was all Alok seemed to need as he picked up the bottle the dye had been in, nodding. “She said it’ll only last until your next shed but, by then, hopefully....”

“She wants to be queen very much,” he murmured.

You tore open the pack, reminding yourself that time was short, and held them out. “Yes. So, we need to go.”

“You have no idea--,” Alok started, before interrupting himself. “I need something from the workshop.”

“We don’t have time.”

He shook his head as he took what you offered, dressing himself in plain leather and thick, scratchy wool. “It will be quick.”

You opened your mouth--- “Please.” --but couldn’t keep firm in the face of his pleading.

“Okay.”

Alok threw a few rings, bangles, and tools into the bag.

“Only enough to sell and get started again,” he assured.

But as you turned to leave the room, his hand was on your arm, pulling you back.

“We--”

“I love you,” he breathed, holding two thick, ornate bangles in his free hand. Both were decorated, from the side you could see, with marigolds, jewels gleaming in the center of their petals. You recognized each one.

One was the size to fit a large tail while the other...

“Alok.”

“I want us to leave belonging to one another.”

Your shaking hands dropped the large bag and his slid to hold both yours in his large one. “If we leave together, we’ll live together too won’t we?”

Even your head shook now, from side to side, hoping to discern the moment as waking or dreaming. “Alok. Of course, because...Of course we will.”

“Oh, please say it,” he said, tugging you nearer still.

He repeated your name and like a spell, you found your words, “We’ll live together because I love you, too.”

His thin mouth, soft and bloodless, fell to yours from his full height, his body curling over you as he pressed against your lips again.

“Let me put it on you,” he whispered, mouth moving against yours as you clung to him.

“Hurry and then we can....Just the bangles and then we must go before it’s too late.”

Careful of his claws, he lifted you to sit on his work table before slipping his own bangle over the small tip of his tail and up further, until it stuck in place under his belt.

There was no time to remove your pants, to mold the bangle against your bare thigh as was intended, but Alok’s thick hands skimming around the metal the entire way up burned as though he were doing just that.

You slid off the table, when the bangle was snug, to melt against him for one brief moment of loving calm, your face rubbing against his neck.

You didn’t have time for more.

After disentangling from his tight hold, you threw the bag at him, near tears as he scrambled to catch it. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m so glad you’re going to be mine instead of a king.”

And then you ran, hand in hand.

“Hey! Heeeeey,” one of the children yelled as the whole group of five ran toward you, kicking up dust on the dirt-packed road. “My momma said that snake man eats kids who don’t do chores!”

“My papa said he can’t help with the festival because he’s growing more arms!”

“That’s dumb, Brittany. My papa is smarter and he said the same thing as Corey’s momma. He’s a kid eater!”

The group shrieked in delighted horror as they squabbled on the specifics of what was really, truly going on in their village.

You hiked the basket in your arms higher after several attempts to respond, loudly telling them to pay attention or you’d leave.

As though pulled forward by strings, they straightened as still as a child could, a few even holding their hands over their mouths to keep silent.

“All of your parents are right,” you nodded, “Every two months he must curb his huge appetite and force back his new, child-grabbing arms so he doesn’t hurt the very naughty children of this village.”

They all clamored to stress their innocence in a cacophony of babbling that soon grew into questions.

“Is that why you live with him? ‘Cause you protect the village?”

“And him,” you said.

“At the same time?!”

“Of course, it’s my job. Now go back toward the smithy before you find out just how many arms he has.”

Lunging forward in jest was enough to urge the children away, all of them teasing the other that they would be last to get there and a snake man’s lunch.

“You’re horrible,” Alok groaned, scales pale pink and yellow from a successful shed. “Soon, they’ll be grown-ups, running us off.”

Hefting the basket onto the dining table, you laughed, “they adore you in secret.”

The cottages here were baked of mud, hay, and a few supportive beams of wood and yours was no different. There was no splendor in the room-less house, but it was truly yours and his. And that was luxury enough.

“They had enough this time?”

You shook the canteen of dye, moving to stand next to him on the low hammock that served as bed, “And the next shipment of birch will contain enough to last us three months or more.”

Alok smoothed his claw down your face, his own expression wistful, “I feel too content to explain.”

You pressed your nose against the pink of his jaw, letting him raise you to straddle him.

“Then show me.”

#monster x reader #monster x human #monster fucking #monster romance #exophillia #terato #monster boyfriend #naga x reader #naga boyfriend #naga x human #fluffy.foam #new.shork #goblin.writes #conch.answered #alienfromagalaxy #I love adur and it is a shame how much of her had to be cut to make this not a mess #exophilia

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pocket-luv101 · 3 years ago

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Summary: Mahiru makes a costume and he wants to show it off to Kuro. His reaction confuses him though. Kuro didn’t react the way he thought he would. (KuroMahi)

“I keep saying I’ll tell people ‘no’ more often but, somehow, I ended up volunteering to make costumes, paint the backdrop and help sell tickets.” Mahiru sat with Kuro on their living room floor. Their backs were pressed against each other. While Kuro was facing the television and playing a videogame, Mahiru was sewing ruffles onto a dress. “I’m not a very talented artist so the backdrop won’t be as good as I want for the play. At least I’m more confident in my sewing.”

He gasped lightly when Kuro suddenly leaned forward and the movement caused him to lose his balance. He began to slip off his back. Before he fell to the ground, he placed his hand beneath his head and caught him. He shifted so they were now sitting with Mahiru laying on his lap. Their positions would often be reversed but he enjoyed feeling his warmth pillowing his head. He set aside his sewing so he could turn and hug his waist. “I’m going to be busy with the play for the next week.”

“I’ll help you paint the backdrop so you can finish quicker and take breaks. Hopefully, there will be enough time to make your homemade ramen. I would like a reward.” He said in a joking tone. Mahiru wanted to roll his eyes and feign annoyance but he could only smile when he saw the love in his red eyes. He reached up to circle his arms around his neck and he lightly tugged him closer. Kuro followed him happily and he tickled his nose against his neck. A part of him was tempted to bite him but he held himself back.

“As much as I would love to make something nice like that for dinner, I don’t think I’ll have enough time— even with your help. Are you okay if I just make hamburger steak, steamed vegetables and rice tonight?” Mahiru sighed heavily. While Kuro’s favourite food was instant ramen, he also loved his cooking and his hamburgers. “Thinking simply, a lot of people are depending on me and I don’t want to let them down. The director gave me this complicated design for the lead’s dress.”

“What kind of play is your theatre putting on?” Kuro picked up the white dress that Mahiru was making. “This looks like a wedding dress. The skirt is a little short for that though.”

“It’s about an angel who is tormenting this demon. The director gave me three hundred dollars to turn a prom dress into something fit for an angel. I’m planning to make the hem of the skirt look like it has been torn and burnt.” Mahiru told him how he planned to customise the dress. Kuro couldn’t follow most of his explanation but he enjoyed listening to his voice. “Once I’m finished, I’ll have it fitted to the actress. It’s just a shame I won’t see how well it flows before then.”

“You can always see by trying on the dress yourself. White suits you. Last night, you said I could choose my birthday present and you’d look nice in—”

“Kuro, this dress is for the play and I won’t be able to face anyone knowing that I had sex in this costume.” Mahiru blushed and he turned from him. From Kuro’s laugh, he knew that he was only teasing him but the thought still made him flustered. He looked back to him when he placed his finger beneath his chin and he guided his face back to him. “Don’t think your pleading cat eyes will convince me.”

“Worth a try.” Kuro shrugged and then he kissed his forehead. He kept his arms around him so he wouldn’t slip off his lap as he sat up. He fit perfectly in his arms and he could lean his head against his shoulders. Sometimes, Mahiru would be jealous of how much taller Kuro was but he cherished the quiet moments where he simply held him. He picked up the controller and said, “I’ll make tea for you after I beat this level. I know you like having tea while working.”

“That’s sweet but I can’t work on the dress while you’re holding me like this.” Mahiru pointed out.

“I can beat this level in only a few minutes. Don’t you have faith in your boyfriend? Videogames are one of the few skills I have.”

“We both know that one level will turn into twelve levels and you’ll be playing for another hour.” Mahiru understood that Kuro was only joking but he wished he wouldn’t self deprecate so much. Kuro was a wonderful person to him and he had supported him through difficult fights. Beyond the war, he loved how Kuro chased away the shadows of his lonely nights. He set down the dress so he could pick up his phone. “I’ll text Tetsu and ask him to hang up posters in his inn for the play while you clear the level.”

“Are you going to stay up late working on that dress, Mahiru? I can keep you company for a bit.” Kuro had seen how he would often push himself to finish each task he took on. He admired how he was always willing to offer his help to others, he also wished Mahiru would think of himself. He would never ask him to change and he stayed by his side to support him.

Mahiru was in the bathroom and Kuro leaned against the wall as he waited for his response through the door. Most nights, he would have to coax him to take breaks and relax. So, he was surprised when Mahiru said: “I’m almost finished with the dress. We can go to bed early tonight. Are you ready?”

“That’s a silly question to ask since you’re the one who always complains that I—” Kuro’s breath became caught in his throat the moment Mahiru stepped out of the bathroom. He wore a sheer white dress shirt that reached his knees but it left little to his imagination. His brown hair was slightly damp from a shower. A water droplet fell onto shoulder and it made the fragile fabric translucent.

“Ready for bed, Kuro?” He repeated the question when he didn’t answer him. Mahiru’s heart was beating loudly and it almost drowned out the sound of his own voice. He purchased the costume for Kuro’s birthday but he decided to try it on early because he teased him about wearing the costume. The anticipation he felt became mixed with nervousness after Kuro continued to stare at him without a word.

Kuro lifted his hand and he tenderly brushed his wet bangs from his face. The moment he felt his touch, Mahiru rose onto his toes so he could meet his kiss and he closed his eyes. The heat of his hand disappeared and Mahiru opened his eyes in confusion. He watched Kuro quickly turn around and he walked into their bedroom. From his pace, he almost appeared like he was running away from him.

Mahiru followed him and he sat on the bed. The soft smile he gave Kuro was accented by his flushed cheeks. “I guess that’s a yes.”

“Goodnight, Mahiru.” Was the last answer Mahiru expected from Kuro. He crawled beneath the covers and then he laid with his back facing him. The reaction confused him when he said he wanted him to wear something white and frilly. He couldn’t guess why Kuro suddenly lost interest. Mahiru bit his lip and he thought of what he should say next. He worried that pushing Kuro would make the situation more awkward.

They had been dating for a few years now and they recently started to sleep together. He thought of the heated words he whispered and the way he touched him a few nights ago. Mahiru understood there would be times one person wanted sex while the other didn’t. He didn’t expect Kuro to lose interest so quickly though. He self-consciously tugged at the white fabric to cover his legs more.

“I’m going to change into something more comfortable and then I’ll join you in bed.” Mahiru began to stand but he stopped when Kuro grabbed his wrist. He pulled him back onto the bed and he laid on his chest. Kuro held him close as he rolled onto his side until he was spooning him. He hooked his leg around his. In that position, he couldn’t see the expression he had. He felt warm and protected though.

Kuro tucked his head beneath his chin and whispered, “I can’t have sex with you in that outfit but can I hold you at least?”

“What?” Mahiru’s brows drew together in confusion. He reached back and he lightly patted him to signal for him to loosen his arms around him. Kuro understood the small gesture and he let him go so Mahiru could turn around. Almost immediately after he did so, Kuro buried his face into his neck. He ran his hand through his blue hair. “I wore you because I want you to take it off.”

“Are you tempting me on purpose or are you this oblivious? Can’t deal. You said we can’t have sex in this dress and I know I’m going to tear it if we do. You spent six hours on this thing.” Kuro’s warm breath tickled his neck as he sighed. He sat up after he heard Mahiru laugh lightly. “I’m trying to control myself and think of your play here, Mahiru.”

“Kuro, this isn’t the dress I was working on earlier. I bought this for your birthday as a surprise but then you said you wanted me—”

Kuro interrupted him with a kiss. He licked his lips and immediately teased his way into his mouth. Mahiru didn’t protest because his focus was on the heat of Kuro’s hands slipping beneath his loose fabric to his skin beneath. He rolled his hips forward and he blushed when he felt how hard he was beneath his shorts. Kuro’s desperate touch contrasted their tender kiss. He pressed their lips together slowly and softly. Each time they parted for air, the lingering heat sent a shiver through Mahiru.

“You really do look beautiful in anything you wear. How about a suit for my birthday next week?” He placed his hand under his thigh and he lifted his leg over his shoulder. The long shirt became bunched up around his waist. He looked down at Mahiru with his hazy brown eyes and how his chest rose with each shaky breath he took. Kuro was certain that he was the only Servamp to find an angel.

“A suit? Kuro, that’s expensive. I’m already—” Any answer Mahiru would’ve given became a moan. Kuro gently bit his thigh and licked at the blood he drew.

“Okay, no suit.” He mumbled against his skin. “I was honest when I said you’re beautiful. You can just wear my t-shirt and turn me on.”

#servamp #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction

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saiyanprincessswanie · 3 years ago

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Chrome & Leather - Chp 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC, Brother Bucky x OFC, Eventual Billy Russo x OFC

Chapter Warnings: Smut, Cussing, Verbal Threats, Little Angst

Word Count: 3475

Chapter Summary: While raising money for a charity Jessie overhears Becca talking with someone about owing them. As she confronts both, Becca goes on the defense about it. Tension and secrets start to build between the two sisters. Will Jessie be able to find out what she is hiding?

A/N: This is my first fic with an original female character, Jessie Barnes. Face claim for Jessie Barnes is model Jessy Hartel, Images of her are slightly altered to give her blue eyes for my OFC by @happygowriting. (Thank you for also creating the biker cut from pics online) All photos in moodboard are from Pinterest.

To read more of my work here is my Masterlist

Thank you to my beta @bxccxdxll for looking this over for me. Thank you to my friends in the discord who helped bounce ideas around with me.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

Taglists are closed. With Tumblr not sending notifications I’m going to see if the side-blog works better. I will tag those who interact. To stay up to date with my writing follow my side-blog and turn on the notifications for @saiyanprincessswanie-sideblog

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps or third party sites. If you see my work anywhere else besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts then it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

Jessie’s life was exactly how she pictured it years ago as a daydreaming teenager. Now as Jessie wanders the farmer’s market with Wanda in tow, she finds her head once again in the clouds. Today the Howling Commandos booth was selling homemade pies to raise money for renovations at a women's shelter on the far edge of town.

The shelter housed battered women and children from the surrounding towns. This was something Jessie had brought to the club's attention and they all voted to help this shelter until all repairs were made. Seeing these women who came in with nothing but the clothes on their backs broke her heart. If there was one thing for sure Jessie lucked out on it was a good guy.

Living with Steve for almost a year has changed her daily routine for the better. She had quit working at the bar with Sam so she could have weekends off with Steve. With Wanda still dating Sam, he hired her for the hours Jessie used to work. It gave each couple time to spend with the one they loved. That left Jessie working the diner shifts Monday to Friday, either open or closing shifts depending on when Becca needed her.

Working a forty-hour work week was strange at first to her but now Jessie knew there was no going back to long hours. It helped that Steve would help with household bills. On top of that their mom's debt was finally paid off with the debt collectors. Becca had surprised everyone when she told them she took care of it. Though Becca was vague about where the money came from she kept a tight lip about it when she was pressed.

Wandering the market both women purchased various jams, fruits, and vegetables for the shelter to help feed the families that were currently there. Jessie was paying for something when she caught a tall, built man with his back to her talking to Becca behind one of the booths. Becca was waving her arms in the air as the man kept pointing a finger at her chest. Quickly Jessie paid for her items, placing them in a bag Wanda was carrying. Jessie looked at Wanda and lightly squeezed her hand. “Stay here.” Jessie left Wanda where she stood as the redhead called after her.

“I told you I would have the rest at the end of the month. I just need a little more time,” Becca frantically spoke.

“I have been very patient with you but I think you don’t understand how deep you’re in. Between that diner and the people you keep around you, there’s no excuse,” The man harshly spit out. “It would be a shame if something happened to those you loved to get the point across…”

Jessie didn’t like the little bit she heard and interrupted. “Is there a problem here?” The man turned around to face Jessie as Becca looked at her with concern. Jessie eyed the man up, warily taking in his size and demeanor. “Brock, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you in town. When did they release you from jail?”

“There is no problem, just a friendly conversation with your sister here.” His eyes raked over Jessie’s body as he took a few steps towards her. “Look at you kitten, you have grown into a beauty. I got out of the big house months ago, maybe you and I could catch up.” Brock lifted his hand to touch Jessie and she quickly swatted him away, sneering at him.

“Don’t touch me,” Jessie growled out, hands balling up into fists by her side.

“The kitten has claws.” Brock held her glare for a moment before his gaze caught someone approaching.

“Is there a problem here?” A deep, authoritative voice spoke.

Jessie turned around and saw Billy standing behind her in his uniform. Billy’s dark eyes were staring back at Brock who threw his hands up in defeat.

Brock looked at Becca and frustratingly said, “You know what you have to do, no exceptions.” Brock looked over Jessie once more and chuckled at her. “See you around kitty cat.” He walked away leaving Jessie and Billy to stare after him.

After Brock disappeared from sight Jessie smiled at Billy. “Thank you.”

Billy nodded at her as his eyes looked between both sisters. “I’m going to follow him out of the market. I will leave you both to talk.”

As soon as Billy left Jessie then turned to her sister. “What was that about?”

Becca rolled her eyes and pushed past Jessie storming through the farmer’s market. “It’s none of your business Jessie so leave it alone.”

Walking fast past Wanda, who was watching everything unfold, Jessie grabbed Becca by the arm to stop her. “It’s kind of my business when Brock is threatening my sister.” Becca wrenched her arm away from Jessie and shoved her.

“Stay out of my business Jessie I have this under control. Whatever you think you heard or know, just forget about it.” Taken back from Becca’s outburst she watched as she stalked by the Howling Commandos booth heading towards the parking lot.

Steve and Bucky had apparently watched the exchange between the women and stood watching Jessie approach them. Thor quickly got up and chased after Becca as Jessie walked by everyone trying to avoid their stares, heading in the opposite direction of her sister.

Jessie was hurt and angry because of how Becca acted. Never in her adult life did Becca snap like that. There was just an odd feeling about what she did hear between Brock and Becca. Why would Becca talk with him in secret? What was she hiding? Keeping secrets was not something they did in her family. Lost in her thoughts she didn’t hear Steve approach.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” His voice softly asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She turned to see Steve walking towards her with a concerned look on his face.

Jessie let out a sigh as she walked the short distance to him. “Yeah, just a little annoyed but I will be fine.” She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest.

His strong arms enveloped her as he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now. Can we go for a ride? I really need to clear my head right now.”

Steve smiled as he hugged her tighter. “Of course we can. Let me go tell Bucky we are heading out. I’m sure Nat and Buck can handle the last hour by themselves.” He pulled back and kissed her briefly on the lips. Before she could deepen it Steve grabbed her bag full of goodies and jogged off to the booth. A ride with Steve was always something that calmed her nerves when she was feeling tense. Steve jogged back with a grin on his face. “Bucky said he would drop your bag off at your house when they are done.”

Jessie put her helmet on as Steve got onto his bike. “Sounds good.” She climbed onto the back of the bike and the engine roared to life. Jessie wrapped her arms around him as they sped out of the parking lot.

Riding with Steve around the surrounding areas was something that always calmed Jessie’s nerves. They had pulled off to an area that oversaw a lake. There Jessie had told Steve what had happened back at the farmer’s market. Steve was not happy to hear what Brock had said or the fact he tried to touch what was his. Just the thought of another man touching Jessie made him so angry that he could punch someone. Hell would freeze over before he allowed that to ever happen again.

As for Becca, Steve thought that they needed to find out what she had gotten herself into. Brock had been a troublemaker through their high school years and eventually, his bad-boy ways caught up to him as an adult. With Brock out of prison and working for an unknown person, this smelled like trouble. If there was trouble then the Howling Commandos would have to look into it. No one would be allowed to cause trouble in their town, not while Steve and Bucky were around. Steve would be bringing this to the club’s attention tonight. Maybe this is something they could squash before it became a bigger problem.

They were riding back into town just as the sun was setting. The orange and pink hues in the sky were fading as the dark starry sky started to take over. Steve and Jessie were heading over to Bucky and Nat’s place for the club’s cookout. The house sat alone on a large plot of land not far from Winnie’s place. Bucky had always wanted a house away from nosy neighbors and out in the countryside. This is where most weekends were spent if they weren’t at Sam’s bar. The bonfire was already roaring when they pulled up to the house.

Steve had slung his arm around Jessie’s shoulders as they made their way to the back of the house. In the back, Bucky was manning the grill as Tony, John and Clint criticized his grilling skills. Thor was sitting in front of the fire with Becca in his lap while Nat was bringing out the condiments. The redhead caught you both walking her way, “About time you two showed up. Was the ride good? I thought for sure you would be walking funny. Apparently, Steve didn’t do a good enough job.”

“Gross Nat, you know they took the Harley out. Why must you make me lose my appetite with those nasty thoughts of them.” Bucky groaned as he grabbed his beer and chugged it down. Nat was chuckling at Bucky, she absolutely loved traumatizing him any chance she could.

Steve walked over to Bucky, patting him on the back. “Don’t worry Jerk, I swear my hands are clean.”

Bucky elbowed Steve, “Don’t start punk. I swear I’m not against punching you.”

Jessie watched her sister who refused to acknowledge her presence. Something definitely felt off and she was going to get to the bottom of it. A beer was dangled in front of Jessie’s face breaking her from her thoughts as Nat waved it back and forth.

Grabbing the beer from Nat, Jessie took a swig of it as she turned her back on Becca. “Want to tell me what happened between you two today?”

Jessie shook her head. “I’m not even sure what exactly is wrong.”

“Well, give it time. When you both are ready, talk it out. There isn’t anything that was done that could keep you both this mad at one another.” Nat’s hand squeezed Jessie’s shoulder lightly to reassure her. “Now how about we take some shots and dance.”

The night was filled with laughter, drinking, and good food. When the club came together they all knew how to let loose. Sam and Wanda had shown up later in the evening, leaving the bar tended by a new assistant manager named Joaquin Torres.

Steve and the guys were all joking around while Jessie, Nat, and Wanda danced to the music playing on the outdoor speakers on the back porch. There was still tension between Becca and Jessie but Steve figured they would eventually work everything out. For now, he would watch his girl dance provocatively with her friends. Jessie was dressed in jean shorts, a tank top, and sneakers. His eyes danced over her sweat-slicked skin as she swayed to the music.

“So Bucky tells me that you bought some land with a garage on it?” Steve snapped out of his trance as Sam's question hung in the air.

Steve’s eyes cut back to his friends as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, it was a really good deal. John here told us about a friend he knew that wanted to get rid of the property. I bought it outright with cash that I’ve been saving with Jessie. I haven’t been able to really get a good look through the garage yet but I’m hoping to get over there by the end of the week.”

John patted Steve on the back. “Least I could do for my boss. You will love the location and the wide-open property. The garage is huge by the way and my friend said it would need to be cleaned out. Anything we find though he said you could keep.”

Steve took a swig of his beer as his eyes went back to Jessie. Her hips swayed to the music as his eyes traveled up her body, finally locking eyes with her. Jessie flashed him a grin knowing how to get a rise out of him. Steve could feel his cock twitch in his pants as she continued to tease him with a sultry dance.

As the men continued to talk amongst themselves Steve made his way over to his girl. The song ended just as he stepped up behind her, his lips kissing the side of her neck. “You’re a tease sweetheart.” His warm breath tickled her ear as he spoke. “Come with me.” Steve grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the music and their group of friends.

Jessie giggled as he pulled her into Bucky’s garage attached to his house. The only light inside came from the moon shining through the side window. Steve knew the garage by heart having worked in here with Bucky on their bikes. Steve brought her over to the workbench.

Their kiss was a frantic mix of lips and teeth as they both fought for dominance. Steve’s hands undid her shorts, pushing both her shorts and underwear down her legs. Jessie stepped out of them and Steve lifted her onto the workbench. He pulled her tank top off discarding it on the ground leaving her in a black lacy bra.

Jessie pulled his shirt over his head just as his fingers swiped through her wet folds. A needy moan escaped her lips as he covered his fingers in her arousal and thrusted his fingers into her channel. His fingers pumped into her, working her open for his cock. Jessie gripped the base of his neck as she felt him bringing her higher with each pump of his fingers. Her fingers worked open his jeans and pushed them down just low enough to free his hard cock. Her fingers wrapped around his length, giving him a few languid strokes.

“Stevie, I need you, please,” Jessie whined as his fingers curled inside of her. Her hand sped up on his cock making him groan from the feeling.

He pulled his fingers from her, sucking her slick off them. Steve looked down as he dug into his pockets searching for a condom. “Fuck, sweetheart. I don’t have protection on me. I will just have to get you off another way.”

Jessie’s hand squeezed just a little tighter around him making him bite down on a groan. “The fuck you are Steven. You will take me now or so help me God I will push you down and ride you.”

Steve’s blue eyes searched hers as he took in what she said. There was longing written on her face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please, Steve.” Jessie pleaded with him as her fingers wove through his hair.

Steve could never deny her anything in this world. If she wanted the moon he would give it to her in a heartbeat. His hands pulled her to the edge of the workbench. Steve replaced her hand with his and ran his cock through her wet folds a few times, coating his cock with her arousal.

Jessie mewled from the feeling of his cock so close to where she needed him. Finally, she felt the tip of his cock breach her entrance, and he sunk into her, both gasping and moaning from the feeling. Jessie hitched her legs around his waist, pulling his body as close as she could to hers.

“Fuck doll, so warm and tight for me.” Her pussy gripped his cock like a vise. Feeling the inside of her for the first time without a condom almost made him cum right then. Steve’s fingers dug into her hips as he set long, hard strokes into her.

Her breath hitched every time he thrust into her as he hit her special spot over and over. “Steve. Ah-fuck, baby. Right there. Don’t stop. Please.” Jessie’s fingers grasped onto his shoulders as they both met each other thrust for thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin and moaning filled the garage as they both took each other higher. Jessie could already feel that coil within her building.

“Jessie, I’m close. Can feel you gripping me so well. Do you want me to pull out?” Steve fumbled the words out as he concentrated on making her cum before him.

Her legs wrapped tightly around him. “I want you to cum inside me.” Steve’s eyes looked at her again in surprise. “Please. You feel good.”

Steve nodded, as he continued to pound into her. His right hand left her hip, moving in between them as his thumb found her clit. Jessie’s breath hitched again as he circled it firmly. Her walls gripped him tightly as she finally cried out her release. “Ah-Steve!” Her legs trembled from the aftershocks of her orgasm as Steve frantically chased his end.

He loved the feeling of her walls hugging him tightly. A few sloppy strokes had him cursing as he emptied himself into her. Jessie’s walls continued milking him for every single drop he had. Steve rested his forehead against hers as they both shivered from the intensity of their release. Jessie lightly kissed his lips as they started to come down from their high. The sound of the door to the garage opened and the light turned on. Jessie and Steve looked to see who it was and saw Bucky nonchalantly walk in.

Bucky made it halfway into the garage before he caught sight of Steve’s bare ass and Jessie’s head peeking over his shoulder. “Jesus Christ, you have got to be kidding me.” Bucky covered his eyes and turned to leave but walked into a shelf, knocking things off it. “I swear you two better be changed in the next five minutes or so help me god I’m going to put a bullet in your ass Rogers!” Bucky slammed the door shut leaving Steve and Jessie laughing from once again traumatizing him.

“As funny as that was, I love your ass too much to see it shot.” Jessie chuckled.

“Yeah, I wouldn't want to walk with a limp,” Steve said as he pulled out of Jessie and tucked himself back in his pants.

Jessie hopped down from the workbench and pulled her clothes back on. “Let’s head out there before he comes in with guns blazing.” She finished straightening herself out and grabbed his hand as they headed outside to where everyone stood. Whistles and catcalls erupted from their friends teasing them about being caught.

Bucky locked eyes with Steve, “You are going to clean that entire garage tomorrow to get rid of any bodily fluids.”

“Sure thing Buck.” Steve chuckled out.

Nat looked up at Bucky. “It’s not like that garage has never been used for sexcapades before. If I remember correctly you had me bent over your Harley before everyone showed up.”

Jessie was the one to let out a groan now. “That is not an image I needed Nat.”

Nat smiled at her friend. “Only fair since you defiled my garage.”

“On that note, we are leaving. See you guys later.” Jessie and Steve waved goodbye to their friends as they headed home.

Brock was smoking his cigar as he listened to his informant on the phone.

“Everything is transferred to the garage like you asked Brock. Also, If you want to get your point across to Becca I found out she is working the closing shift with her mother in two nights. They will be keeping the money they raised today in the safe at the diner until they can go to the bank. It will be an easy in and out.” The man on the line spoke quickly.

Brock blew out a puff of smoke. “That’s perfect. My boss will be pleased to hear that everything is coming together as planned. Keep me updated if anything changes.” Brock hung up the phone with his inside man. He took out his phone and texted his employer relaying the information to him. Both Brock and his boss wanted the same thing, to see the Howling Commandos crumble. If everything went to plan, Bucky and Steve would be out of the picture.

Chapter 7

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