#we love fluffy scrooge

[hheckkingart]

I've been overtaken by ducktales mania once again. This is my official process of learning to draw scrooge, from tracing the show's style to using it as a reference for a mix of the show's and my own style (i really just wanted scrooge to be more fluffy lmao)

[catsukkii]

— UNDER THE MISTLETOE !? ft. katsuki bakugo

IN WHICH…when decorating the house with your boyfriend, you unpack a mistletoe and hang it over your archway, what was supposed to be a sweet kiss turns into your boyfriend decorating you with hickeys.

comments, likes & reblogs mean the world to me! 18+ — minors DNI.

CONTENT CONTAINS; SMUT! mdni, swearing, marking, squirting, pussy eating, use of petnames, established relationship, vulgar descriptions hehe, katsukis a loser for you, reader calls katsuki ‘kats’ & ‘suki’

WORD COUNT; 1.6k

A/N; don’t diss me to hard everybody 😔 I actually am not to upset with how it came out so ayyye !

song rec; santa baby <3

all rights reserved © CATSUKKII 2024-2025. all fanfics & layouts belong to me. do not copy, translate, repost on tiktok or any other platform of the works seen here.

“katsuki, put the garland up on the fireplace,” the wind was howling outside, soft white snow covering the ground, children playing and squealing in the white fluffy snowflakes. It was almost christmas.

katsuki was a scrooge, a grinch even when it came to the holidays. he liked thanksgiving to eat, and halloween to scare kids. that was it.

but once you and your jolly self marched your way into katsukis life, he found himself tolerating, hell, even enjoying the holidays.

“yeah yeah woman, I’m goin.” he gets up off the couch with a groan, stretching his arms up, and dropping them back to his side. you roll your eyes at his old man tendencies and continue your work on the pretty little tree that sat in the corner of your living room.

“katsuki when your done hand me the box,” you were standing on a step stool to reach the top of your abnormally large tree katsuki insisted on having. you pointed to the cardboard box that sat underneath the fireplace. “I think there’s more ornaments there.” you continue putting the glass balls on the tree, the dark green matching your red and white bulbs elegantly.

“damn gotta do everything around here…” katsuki mumbles and you shot him a sharp glare, he closed his mouth quickly and opened the cardboard box.

“babe there’s no ornaments here..” he digs through the box in search, “only…some stupid figures, more stupid figures, and….” he continues the search, you roll your eyes at him calling your pretty decorations ‘stupid figures’. “mistletoe?” he holds the green leafs up as if he was inspecting it, he then smirks.

“ahh, cmon we gotta hang up the mistletoe right?” he shoots you a cocky look mixed with a smirk. “oh wow, katsuki bakugo wanting to kiss me under the mistletoe?” you put a faux shocked expression on, fanning yourself with your knees buckling as if you were one of his fangirls. he rolls his eyes at your antics.

“yeah yeah, only one I’d kiss under some damn mistletoe…” the last part comes out as more of a grumble but it made your heart flutter nonetheless. he offers a hand to help you get off your stepstool, but as soon as you put your hand on top of his he grabbed you and lifted you down as your legs kicked with an ‘eek!’

“alright when have I ever dropped you.” he deadpans, “never but I didn’t expect it!” he scoffs at you and drags you to the archway entrance into your living room.

“okay lift me up a little so I can see better kats.” he rests his hands on your waist and lifts you up effortlessly, as always. you put the little green leafs up with a thumbtac, and tap his arm to let him know you’re done.

once he places your feet back on the floor, you both look at the work you did and smile brightly, he snakes an arm around your waist and whispers in your ear.

“cmon we gotta kiss under the mistletoe right?” you smirk at his words and drag him underneath the archway.

he grabs the back of your neck one hand still rested on your waist, you wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you in for a slow passionate kiss.

your lips moved in tandem, you couldn’t help the small smile you let out into the kiss. they moved slowly against one another’s, love and passion mixed into this one kiss.

the kiss quickly turned heated, mouth parting as you moan into the kiss, he takes advantage and shoves his tongue in your mouth, twirling together fighting for dominance, he’s pressed you up again the archway knee resting inbetween your leg, applying pressure occasionally; causing you to moan into the kiss. he wasn’t any better off, breathing heavily but refusing to pull away for air. you just tasted so sweet to him.

you subconsciously started grinding on his knee, to which he smirks into the kiss as you let out a moan, the friction hit just right into that sensitive spot. the pleasure became to much, all you could do was tip your head back as your mouth formed into an ‘o’. he took this as an opportunity to kiss down your neck, sucking and licking at the sensitive skin, marking you.

he hums into your neck while nipping at your skin, your hands find the back of his head and tangle into his hair.

“mmm..katsuki—“ you cut yourself off with a sweet moan when he applied pressure to your wetness again, he breathily laughed at this.

“cat got your tongue baby?” you stupidly nod at his question, only thing on your mind being how good you felt.

he pulls away from your neck and tugs at the hem of your shirt, you quickly take the hint and pull it up over your head, your pretty red bra being on display for him. he wastes no time and dives to mark the skin on your breasts, causing a moan to ripple through you.

he releases his knee from your leg and kisses down your body, from your neck all the way down to the waist of your pants. he’s squatting, kissing and sucking on any piece of skin he can get his lips on.

he greedily licks around your hips and lightly tugs at your pants, you’re quick to pull them off and throw it across the room someplace where your shirt landed, he kisses up your thighs and spends most of his time sucking and nipping at them, purplish and red hickeys shown on basically every inch of your skin, he just had such an obsession with marking you.

so here you were, only in your pretty little red lacey bra and panties below the mistletoe, underneath the archway in your living room.

“suki, wanna see you—“ you breathe out through the tension, “take your shirt off.” he quickly complied, placing himself fully on his knees and pulling his tank over his neck, his sculpted body on full display for you.

he proceeds to take his pants off as well, throwing them and his shirt across the room; probably somewhere near yours.

he quickly gets back to his work marking you, finding himself between your thighs sucking and licking; getting so close to where you need him.

“kats, please don’t tease me. need you.” you reach for his blonde locks and tilt his head back to make eye contact with his pretty red eyes staring lowly at you, already drunk just off the taste of your skin alone.

luckily for you, he was just as needy as you were.

he licked his lips and nodded at you, pulling your panties to the side, not even bothering to slip them off at this point.

he immediately makes work on your cunt, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit, you moan loudly and tug on his hair out of response.

he sucks and drinks up everything you give him, high-pitched moans making their way past your mouth, squirming in his grasp; he holds you down sternly with his muscled arm, pushing on your lower belly in the process.

to katsuki, your pleasure was always truly his pleasure, he loved the sounds of your sweet whimpers and whines as you tried to wiggle away from his assault on your wetness. he loved it all.

“s-suki—!” a moan bubbles past your lips as you feel that all so familiar climax approaching, but something was different about this one.

“kats!— s-stop! g’nna pee!” at this he moans into your heat, humming against it causing shivers to run down your spine. he knew what that meant, katsuki had always done research on women, obviously knowing the basics, but he seriously started focusing on it more when he got with you.

he shakes his head back and forth, your begs and pleas to stop going on deaf ears as he makes it his mission to work even harder and bring you closer to your orgasm, pushing down on your lower stomach even harsher now.

“n-no! g’nna pee…! ‘ts comin!” your vision whites as you embarrassingly can’t hold back anymore, your orgasm crashing through you harshly as your sticky liquid sprays all over katsukis face, he greedily laps and slurps at all of your juices helping you ride out your orgasm.

once your breathing calms down you tap on his head as a signal for him to get up, the sight was unfortunately attractive seeing your wetness dripping down his chin, he wipes it off with his hands and sucks on his fingers much to your dismay.

“what…the fuck was that.” you breathe out panting, catching your breath still. he simply smirks and chuckles at you, getting off his knees to make eye contact.

he meets your lips with a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue before he pulls away with a sly smirk on his face once again.

“that, was you squirting.” you facepalm at his words in sheer embarrassment before he’s quick to reassure you. “that shit was hot, think you can do it again?” you perk up at his words, your own smirk tugging at your lips now.

“let’s see, why don’t we take it to the bedroom yeah?” he happily obliges and follows you like a giddy little kid into your bedroom.

you were definitely gonna kill him for millions of purplish red marks splayed all over your skin, but that was tomorrows problem.

for now, he’s gonna make his dick and your clit kiss.

a/n; I feel like a whore writing smut guys.

[catchyhuh]

Sometimes what people wear as pajamas is a weird indicator of personality so... What’s your opinion on their pajamas?

it took less than a second for me to go “how do pjs indicate personaliOhhh wait yeah that does make sense” as I realized I was folding up multiple adult size cartoon character onesies for my own pajama drawer. let’s get into it BUT UH DISCLAIMER i mostly talk about patterns in canon i’ve noticed with just… tiny personal thoughts in here. less headcanons more breakdown. NOW let’s get into it

lupin:

two modes-- soft, fuzzy button up set, or just his underwear. somewhat depending on weather, DEFINITELY depending on mood. i mean you don't wanna get COLD and he got those nice purple heart pajamas with an actual, legal purchase, so it'd be stupid to waste them ALL the time!

there could be a joke here about how he’d probably just sleep naked if the gang weren’t constantly groaning in annoyance, throwing pillows at him begging him to put on some damn pants, but the reality is… he can’t really sleep like that. it’s uncomfy :( he tried :) but it’s uncomfy :(

jigen:

you aren't ready for this. or you are. you likely are, given i had to choose between like 3 different pictures i have of him in fits like this

and i’m dead serious. big ass ankle length nightgown with matching cap. no, really. these are his actual pajamas. they’re comfy to him. i can’t fathom why, maybe the fabric is just equal parts breathable and warm, maybe he did this once for the bit and realized it was the best sleep he ever had, WHATEVER, these are his pajamas, and no amount of teasing by now will stop him from changing into these before going to bed

i have to respect them for committing to this bit, because you think, oh, he’s the coolest. he wouldn’t have lame pajamas. no he does. very lame. hilariously so. arose such a clatter type shit. nighty night scrooge

fujiko:

now, she would LIKE to say big, fluffy, fancy nightgown… but the texture feels bad scrubbing against your skin all night, so she usually just opts for a simpler nightgown. or, like lupin, just her underwear. obvious fanservice aside she’s clearly comfy bundled up like that so you show em how its done fujiko

no matter how cold it gets, she can never really sleep in pajama pants. shorts, maybe, but anything that reaches past her knees feels restrictive, hence why she normally just goes for the nightgown. she doesn’t even kick in her sleep idk why it’s such a big deal!

goemon:

i had to look through a bunch of stuff because i was like. wtf. what DOES he wear to bed. he can’t just be wearing his usual clothes all day and night, it would be uncomfortable. so i’ve come to the conclusion that these virtually identical clothes here are just made of a softer material, designated as goemon’s jammies

or he just. sleeps in his underwear. it really is comfsorry the mental image of the camera panning across three beds where they’re sleeping in their underwear vs jigen still rocking the victorian fit is killing me a bit

zenigata:

have you noticed he sleeps with his hat on more than jigen does. isn’t that fucked. jigen has a special sleeping hat but the alleged NON-hat-obsessed guy is the one sleeping in it. due to his… hectic routine, he never really has a default type of pjs. either he just sleeps in what he was already wearing (c’mon, man) or he’s packed like, some pajama pants, or (take another shot because this series loves this gag) just hits the hay in the heart print boxers. jigen really is a scientific outlier.

USUALLY if he’s bothering to actually change, it’s just the undershirt he’s already got on and some comfy pants, the kind you can get at like walmart for five bucks, so if he’s forgotten to bring them it’s no biggie. damn anon was right this IS a personality indicator!

BONUS YATA!:

as we have oft discussed, yata is a man we have all met at one point in our lives. so, yata has the basic boring man pajamas. t-shirt that’s too big for him but he forgot to return it, and seasonal pajama pants. the pants always seem to mismatch the season, he wore the snowflake ones during summer, and now he’s wearing the halloween ones in winter?

the shirt itself is also mundanely mysterious. nobody can really place the logo on it, and he doesn’t really remember where he got it from either. it doesn’t bother him too much until it’s pointed out to him

[rom-e-o]

♡ That's My Job ♡  (Constance/Ebenezer) (Modern AU) (18+ Fic)

Major shout out to @quill-pen for inspiring this fic with a delightful gif they shared a little while back. This isn't the longest fic, but i had tons of fun writing it!

Although, in my typical fashion, even the smutty things end up fluffy. i cannot help myself. Tegardless, i hope you enjoy!

This fic is rated 18+. MINORS DNI. Full fic is below the cut.

With a sweep of his arm, Ebenezer cleared his mahogany work desk of papers and other essentials, sending the items scatting without a second thought.

Any anxiety he would have normally felt regarding the mess was immediately snuffed out by the fact that his lovely fiancée, blouse already unbuttoned, watched him breathlessly. She was pulled tightly against him, her breasts plush against his chest and her hips nudged perfectly over the growing steeple in his trousers.

Everyone else that worked at Scrooges & Cratchit’s was long gone for the evening, leaving only Ebenezer and Constance as the one two remaining to lock up their high-rise office suite.

They had, in fact, locked the front of their office and drawn the blinds for the glass partition separating their office from the other businesses they shared a floor with. Just enough to make the office look completely vacant at a glance. It was enough that the building security wouldn’t give their space a second thought on rounds, if they even cared to take them on such a lovely Friday afternoon.

With all that done, his hands reached down to cup Constance’s bum and lift her onto the desk, her legs remaining open as he moved between them to cover her lips with his own. His large hands made easy work at gripping her sumptuous thighs, the tips of his fingers worrying the garters that held up her stockings. The bloody minx, he thought as he tugged the material. He’d bought her the garters for her hose – a perfectly sensible gift, he’d thought, and she took great pleasure in wearing them with her skirts, knowing he could see them if she moved her legs in just the right way.

Of course, she always did, and he was near powerless to resist. Her desk was in clear eyesight of his, and she took ample advantage of this. Not that he minded.

He groaned as he pulled the material taut and snapped it against her skin. He followed the light snap with a hard sway of the hips, rutting against the delta between her legs. When he felt heat there, a growl loosed from his lips.

“F—uck,” he drawled, his tone already ragged from their breathless kissing, “Did you know I’ve always wanted to do this to you at the office, angel? Pop those buttons off your blouse—”

He reached up with one hand and gave once heavy breast a squeeze. Her spine kinked in response, and he smirked impishly.

“—Lift those glorious legs of yours—"

His other hand moving northward and under the hem of her pencil skirt to cup her bottom, urging her legs wider. As his fingers dug into her flesh from his severe grip, she moaned in delight against his lips.

“—And fuck over on this desk until your throat is raw from screaming?”

Constance whimpered at the word, which he punctuated with another surge against her legs. His clothed erection was hard against her soft center, and even through his fly, he could feel the moisture gathering there. Just imagining how slick she already was for him made him rock his hips again, chasing the imagined sensation.

“P-Please, hurry,” Constance urged, her breath coming in pants.

“We won’t get caught,” he assured her softly. Even if security walked past, they’d have to try the locked door. They’d have plenty of time.

“I-I know,” she corrected. With a quick swallow,  her eyes darted to his. “I-I’ve just…I really want…”

His gaze softened further, a hand reaching out to cup her cheek. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

He angled her hand to lean into his large, calloused fingertips.

“You,” he said, relaxing into his palm. Her eyes fell shut as she inhaled deeply. “This. All of this. Waiting all day for you to manhandle me like this…”

She flexed her manicured fingers against his chest, nails scraping his chest even through his starched shirt. “It’s been torturous.”

That last little plea was all his cock needed to rise to full mast. Unable to contain the discomfort, he pulled from her just long enough to undo his belt. The hardware clinked deliciously as he let it fall to the wayside, clinking against the executive’s desk. A second later, his fingers loosened the zipper and undid the clasp keeping his trousers closed. When his cock sprang free, he gripped the base firmly to ground himself. All the effort he put into gathering himself was immediately shattered when Connie lifted her hips and rutted against his exposed erection. The little gasp she let out provoked a possessive growl from his throat.

“Keep that up, and I’ll be spent sooner than my liking,” he panted, his lips curving into a slight smile as a delicate pink color crossed his complexion. “Ah, speaking of which, hold a moment …”

He reached onto his back pocket and fumbled for his bifold. Snapping it open, he dug inside, very aware of her eyes lingering on him. Thanks to the fact that he carried all cards and no cash (Harry would be proud, he thought, his uncle living in the 21st century) he quickly found a condom tucked discreetly in the folds.

After nearly dropping the bloody thing thanks to his trembling hands (“S-Sorry” he mumbled), he unwrapped in and rolled it down his shaft. It was cold for a second because of the lube but warmed relatively quickly. “T-There we go.”

She grinned at him, her smile full of pure love, and another surge of pleasure shot through him.

“Ah, fu—uck…” he gasped. One smile from her was just as arousing as a glimpse of her breasts or a kiss from her lips.

Wordlessly, Constance lifted one of her beautifully sculpted legs to wrap around his waist. Heel resting just below his bum, he urged him forward with a little kick, like one would do spur a stallion.

The tip of his cock, engorged with blood, nudged the damp swatch of fabric between her legs. Feeling the thin stripe of soaked material again his sensitive skin made him tremble, teeth worrying his bottom lip to suppress a moan. “M-May I?”

She nodded, reclining on her elbow and lifting her lips. She squared her hips over his, her amble breasts jostling with each movement. Then, she spoke a single word:

“Please.”

When they emerged from the main office building’s elevator, they were hand-in-hand and walking on rickety legs.

If the security officer that waved them out noticed the shakiness of their steps or the fresh wrinkles on their otherwise perfectly tailored outfits, they did not call attention to it. Like many of the other individuals that slogged the week away in London’s financial district, the man was mentally checked out for the first evening of the weekend and wouldn’t lift a finger if he didn’t need to.

Both Ebenezer and Constance were quite grateful for that.

They were even more thankful that Ebenezer’s flat was just a few blocks away from his downtown office, just across A10 and a short waltz from there. Even if they encountered photographers or nosy onlookers, they wouldn’t have much time to look. Most of the individuals navigating the financial district were businessmen who knew of the Scrooge Twins, and the lovely company the men kept. Many of the locals didn’t pester the philanthropists, as they had their own lives, emails, and stock notifications to address with as much attention as possible.

As they walked along, a few even spared a nod to the couple.

Regardless of the distance, he still carried her briefcase for her, and offered her an arm and shoulder to lean on. She took ample advantage of the gesture once they were a few paces from the building. He noticed with some concern that she was leaning on him quite heavily. He slowed his pace slightly.

“Are you walking okay, love?”

He whispered the question into her ear once they turned the corner onto Leadenhall Street. It was a strategic route for them to take, as vehicular through-access to Leadenhall Street was prevented by a firegate, forcing drivers to bear right onto Fenchurch Avenue instead. The pedestrianized state of the street made it harder for paparazzi to hide in cars and take pictures of the couple. As such, it was the preferable route for the billionaire and his socialite wife to take for their nightly walk home.

By that time, many of the travelers with longer commutes had already filtered into the nearby London Underground stations of Aldgate and Tower Hill. Meanwhile, the nearby Leadenhall Market bustled with patrons ducking into the bars for drinks, and friends crowding the boutiques looking for dresses and shoes for spring weekend getaways.

Constance laughed, a musical sound, and nodded. “Yes, I’m okay. A little weak, but in the most pleasant way, I assure you.”

“Truly?”

“I actually love feeling a little sore after a nice workout,” she replied with a smirk. “I’m a little tender, but in the most delightful way.”

Another blush colored his cheeks as he patted her hand affectionately. “W-Well, I’ll draw you a warm bath and order some dinner the moment we’re home. How about that?”

“Oh, that would be delightful.” A pause, then more delicately, “Can we order Chinese takeout? Erm, sorry, takeaway?”

He chuckled and kissed her crown. “Of course. That sounds divine. It’ll pair perfectly with the new Malbec that we picked up from that tasting last weekend.”

“The one from Argentina?” Constance asked, then hummed. “Oh, I think you’re right! The tannins will be so delightful with eggrolls and lo mein, don’t you think? Mmm…I’m already hungry.”

He laughed at that. It did sound good, he had to agree. A perfect, hearty meal to wind down after a wonderfully scandalous romp.

“Are you sure you aren’t too sore to eat?” he asked. He was partially teasing, but also somewhat serious. There were many nights where Constance drank bone broth for dinner, or had only a wheatgrass shot after a day of back-to-back pilates and meetings. While he didn’t like to control areas of her life (especially since her ex-husband had done just that for nearly 20 years), he always felt better when she ate real, tangible meals.

Thankfully, she was keen to assuage his curiosity. “Too sore for takeaway? Never!”

“Really? Well, good to know. I also was going to suggest we break out that lovely Cartier tray and eat dinner cuddled on the couch so you could rest …”

A pause. “Well, maaaaybe I am sore enough for that.”

He clicked his tongue knowingly. “Ah.”

“I see that cheeky little grin of yours, sir.”

“I’m not grinning,” he said while very obviously grinning. “I’m taking you very seriously, as a matter of fact.”

“Hey, now!” she chided gently, “Our dining room furniture is lovely, but those wooden chairs can be hard on your bum, especially after … activities.”

The comment was made in jest, but a small part of it stuck to him even after his laughter petered out. ‘Our dining room furniture’, she’d said. His flat was becoming more and more of a shared space for them, and he couldn’t have been happier about it.

Heavens above, he thought as he chanced another secret dance down at her happily flushed face, How is this my life?

As they turned the corner onto Lime Street, the building housing Scrooge’s flat was easy to spot. The massive building, home to some of London’s wealthiest investors and philanthropists, practically spanned the width of three average skyscrapers.

Ebenezer held the massive glass door for her as they entered the lobby, the walls burnished in deep mahogany with gold accents. After a quick greeting to the receptionist, he called the private elevator for them and stood in the threshold to hold the door while she wobbled in. The Louboutin heels that normally gave her no trouble were proving difficult to walk in on her exhausted legs.

“S-Sorry,” she apologized as she eased in, Ebenezer holding her hand all the while. His eyes watched where she stepped, making sure her ankles stayed straight.

“Take your time. Careful – watch your step.”

Once inside, the apartment was only a short ride up. Somehow, the man managed to hold himself back from carrying her, but he did urge her to lean on him for the final stretch down the hallway to his front door.

“Almost there.”

He keyed in, tapped the code on the security system, and swiftly shut the door behind them. Couldn’t be too careful, after all. “There we go.”

Almost instantly, Constance eased herself out of her tall heels, opening their hall closet to put them on the shoe rack. Scrooge mirrored her actions and placed his oxfords right next to hers on the rack. It was a routine gesture, but in that moment, the domesticity of it rendered him soft.

For many years, Ebenezer had fancied himself a lifelong bachelor, completely undesirable and undeserving of love or romance. Now, he was courting a woman who was not only attracted to him, but returned his affections and desires in every way, shape, and form.

While their office romp had gotten his heart racing, the bliss and security he felt in that moment made him well up.

Remembering his promise from before, he straightened his back and helped her out of her coat. “I’ll go draw your bath. Wait just a tick, okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Thank you, darling.” She beamed again, reaching up to remove the claw clip holding her hair in a bun. As she shook out the curls with a light moan, he had to force his gaze away from her immaculate form yet again.

Feeling bold, he husked a vague command.

“Don’t take anything off.”

When she glanced his way with a questioning glint in her eyes, he returned the same cheeky grin from before. “That’s my job.”

While he did turn away to leave her in temporary stupor, he did linger just long enough to glimpse the delightful blush that spread on her cheeks.

That, just like the sight of their shoes nestled together in the entryway, was one he was certain he’d never tire of.

It's a fluffy fic, AND a lesson in downtown London's geography.

Seriously, the way I actually mapped their walking route. It's too late for me. Save yourselves if you can.

[carsonian]

Cap-IM Rec Week: Fluffy Friday

@cap-ironman, it's Friday! Coincidentally, I'm in love. 🤔

"met my destiny (in quite a similar way" by ishipallthings (@ishipallthings)

“I’m in love with you.” The spatula in Tony’s hand clatters to the floor with an audible thwack. (In which Tony is incredulous, Steve is determined, and absolutely no pancakes are made for breakfast.)

There's been a longstanding campaign by well-known and less-well-known dentists to delete this fic from the interwebs because of its devastating effect on readers' dental health. 'Nuff said.

"Rushing Headlong in the Wrong (Right) Direction" by nostalgicatsea (@nostalgicatsea)

“Steve,” Jan said slowly, “what did you think you were bidding on?” He could feel the heat of his blush creeping down his face and neck, and considering its intensity, he knew he was as red as a fire hydrant. “Uh,” he said for the second time in minutes. Or: Steve bids on Tony thinking Tony's auctioning off a date and gets something very different instead.

Steve may be the only white man underwhelmed by a wheel of cheese. And to that we all say: respect!

"The Way You Love Me" by Saber_Wing (@saber-wing)

Tony mustered up his best, ‘look at me, I’m so put together,’ voice, the one the press ate right up. And there was next to zero chance Steve was going to buy it, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying. “Don’t worry about me, sugar plum. I’ve got this.” Tony tried to open his eyes again, as if to prove a point even though no one could see him. And oh, oh no, that was a mistake. Frantically, he grasped for the wastebasket, dry heaving into it. Oh, he did not have this. He did not have this at all. Tony underestimates the severity of one of his migraines, and pays for it.

I really don't use this word lightly so it's after carefully considering every angle that I bring it up here. This fic is: scrump-dilly-icious. Again, I don't use that word lightly. But this fic is. Scrumpdillyicious!

"My Favorite Things" by Captain_Panda

Tony Stark loves Christmas. Too bad he's dating Scrooge's more miserable cousin.

Captain_Panda, the writer you are. . .

"very first words (of a lifelong love letter)" by picturecat (@snoozingcat)

Steve punched a triceratops and all he got was this lousy love confession. (He's pretty happy with it.)

I have no words because when I read this, my body had a magic-girl transformation into just. A pile of goo. So it goes. Hashtag worth it.

There's a reason why The Cure said "It's Friday, I'm in love." Because-- now--here's the reason: it's Friday. We're in love.

Go forth: SteveTony lovers, fuckers, ambassadors, champions, perverts, freaks, losers, dreamers, legends! Read, re-read, kudo, comment, spread legs and spread love.

[jenkys-hoard]

No hate to Della but I wish their was an angsty/fluffy/funny/family drama filled custody battle for the triplets between Donald and Della fic. Mainly because Della gets too arrogant and wants fully custody of the boys. And like all I want for this type of fic is angst for Donald and the boys, but ultimately all of Donald's friends standing up for him and saying he deserves to keep custody of the boys in court. All the people in Donalds life and the boys saying he's a good dad. Like emotionally and legally everyone shutting Della down because Donald is the very best for the boys and he's their dad. Like how dare she even attempts this. And the climax of the fic is Scrooge being 100% on Donald's side saying the boys deserve to be with Donald on the stand. Like at first he's on Della's side(gets her a very expensive lawyer and everything). But than he steps back and thinks about it. Like this could take place somewhere after Donald comes back from the island or season 3. Either way I really would love a fic like this. Especially that emphasize that Della choice to leave the boys on a rocket, and Donald made a commitment to rase the boys as his babies. For fun in this Uno/Odin can be his lawyer.

I'm not gonna lie hun, if you caught me like maybe a year ago I woulda jumped on this 😔

I will tell you that if you look hard enough on AO3, this EXACT premise exists (and a good couple very similar)

However I'm kinda picky with my Della content now because like- I don't like writing assholes. So when I think of Della I see her as exceedingly impulsive. She would not give a FUCK what the law says, those are her kids and Donald is the one who raised em. Because he would NEVER deny her access to the kids and she LOVES her brother. She's short sighted, brash, and definitely doesn't think things through fully even if she *thinks* she did. (Tbh I cannot fucking FATHOM that DuckTales17 decided ms.'shot myself into space in an experimental rocket alone' should be known as the twin that could "sEe AlL tHe AnGlEs") but she loves her family dearly.

Plus you cannot tell me that Della 'sleep is wasting time here I made the most sugary inedible cake ever' Duck remembered to legally alive herself again (and tbh I don't think Scrooge remembered either but he's old and sad so we forgive him for it). This woman is legally Dead to the US government.

Also I like watching crazy irl court stuff enough to know that, unless Della *lies*, a Judge would not fucking entertain that case, plus the friends can help socially and probably write letters to the judge, but family court is just set up differently from what I've seen and it would take some crazy extenuating circumstances to get like a full jury and witnesses.

If I DID do something like this, I'd use someone else as an outside force to influence Della (she's the type to not stop once an idea is in her head and that's canonically been taken advantage of) and it would more be around the DRAMA of her serving her brother papers. Like- my Donald angst usually involves all of his friends either being out of touch or unavailable. Parenthood takes a lot of time and personal social circles are the first to go under the stress most of the time.

So really focus on Della's shortsightedness and Donald's lack of support.

Honestly I think Scrooge would just be confused. They're siblings and they love each other and they fight about petty shit, sure, but this?

Also the kids would be stressed as hell and probably start fighting amongst themselves over it which would make Donald cave pretty fast, I think.

Anyways this has been Jenky's rambles, don't mind me and go have fun uwu

[doorrobloxstuff]

Mmmmm, wants me some rushbush rn

What if ambush gives its partner a nice brushing cause fluffy rush

.

Only because I love you.

Yay I get to do swearing now you get to see them being the silly potty mouths they are but just a tiny thing for now.

“Cmon ‘yeh baby. It’s not that bad.” Ambush said as it carefully brushed away the layer of fur on Rush’s back.

Rush whimpered and shivered as it felt the excess mound of fur it had amassed during the winter be brushed away. “My..my fuff..” it said sadly as it brushed Ambush’s ratty, magenta and green mess of hair.

“It’ll grow back in a month big guy, but yeh ate a mound of hair along with with your dinner.” Ambush let out a distorted purr as Rush brushed its face. It’s hand slowly getting rid of the excess fluff on its partner’s belly.

“Besides, just think about how many knobs we’ll get when we sell all this!”

Rush’s frown grew deeper.

“That’s if we CAN even sell em.. Seek always tries to get us to undersell our fuckin hair.”

“Well I mean it is literally bags of fucking hair-“

“But it’s special hair! It’s my hair!”

“Yea well, tell that to Slimeneezer Scrooge. It’s our friend don’t get me wrong. But it’s as greedy as..uhh..” Ambush scratched its chin. “I think I’m outa juice.”

“Outa what?”

“Ya know, juice? Like inspiration? Creativity..?” Ambush continuously brushed Rush’s back fluff into the ever-increasing pile of fur.

“..Ahhh.” Rush pushed itself closed and brushed Ambush’s chin.

“Wait, you sayin my fluff ain’t special?~” Rush flicked it on cheek and Ambush laughed a tiny bit.

“Speaking of fluff- is it just me or do you think it’s about time we should ahh.. brush Sally??”

“Is it that bad?”

“It looks like a little cotton ball.”

“ ‘Dawww..”

[retirement-home-rumble]

Oh actually I'll send more Scrooge propaganda; he's fluffy, he loves his family, he's dating a con woman and also Santa (bi king), and the writers accidentally implied that he's trans (through admittedly dumb writing but hey, diversity win; the richest duck in the world is trans)

We take those!

[fantasticenthusiasttale]

Okay, life is sad, soooo... fluffy and silly one-shot ^^

Context: cartoon "Mickey and the Roadster Racers"

Enjoy :)

《》《》《》

It was a normal, boring friday morning of job to the team of mechanics. They made some repairs in two cars and then went to lunch. Before the afternoon shift begins, Minnie received a letter.

"Who's it, Minnie?" Daisy asked.

"It's from my sister, Mandie! She's sending the girls for me to take care for the weekend while she's taking care of our aunt, she's a little ill."

"I hope she gets better soon." Mickey said.

"Thanks." Minnie answered.

"We all hope it!" Daisy answered "Millie and Melody are coming? My nieces will love it! They loves to play with them!"

"Tell them they're coming tomorrow!" Minnie said happily.

"I'll talk with Felicity, maybe she can take the boys to play with them too!" Mickey said happily.

"You all can take all your nieces and nephews! It will be a wonderful party!" Minnie invited."

"All of them? Wait Mickey, how many kids Oswald have? 4? 5?" Donald asked.

"Eh... 420." Mickey answered, in a mix of proud and embarrassment.

"WAK!! What kind of place we can put that much of kids?" Donald got worried.

"In the park!" Minnie answered easily "They would love to play together under the sun, as we ourselves did so long time ago!"

"As if you could complain about that." Mickey growled. "Your family is bigger than mine!"

"It isn't! I know, my family is a total craziness, but it isn't that big!" Donald answered.

"No way! Despite my nieces and nephews, how many uncles and aunts you have?"

Donald started to count in his fingers. "Well, there's uncle Scrooge, aunt Matilda, uncle Rumpus, uncle Gideon, uncle Ludwig..."

"Garsh!" Goofy said, surprised.

Mickey smiled "Ha! Look at this! Your family is soooo big!"

"That means nothing! I don't even spend so much time with them! They doesn't even like me! They only calls me when they needs me!" Donald complained angrily.

Mickey laughed. "Don't lie! Obviously they likes you!"

"Hmpf! Let's just return to work! C'mon!" Donald got angry.

30 minutes after the return to work, a sound of people running and screaming was getting closer to them, like they was running up the aisle for cars. Luck that there's no car coming now.

Pluto was the first who noticed the sound and told it to Mickey, who asked of the others are hearing that too.

"NEPHEW!!"

"Oh no." Donald would recognize that voice anywhere, he's heard it so many times.

Before Donald could just turn around to be sure of his thinking to start running, a pair of strong arms grabbed him hard and spun him around in the air.

"My dear nephew! I was lookin' for you!"

"Hi, u-uncle Scrooge." Donald replied embarrassed amidst his uncle's grip. He grew more embarrassed when the old man started kissing him on the forehead and cheeks.

"Sorry unca Donald" Donald's nephews arrived tiredly after running to catch their granduncle.

"We were with unca Scrooge, as you told us..." Huey started.

"...And he had a dentist appointment scheduled for today, so we went with him..." Dewey continued.

"...The dentist used an anesthetic to pull out a decayed tooth, but this made him loose the control." Louie finished.

"And we came here to get you!" Scrooge said happily, still holding Donald.

"Urgh... So you won't let me go until I agree to go with you?" Donald asked.

"Yeah! I want my favorite boys along with me right now!"

"Don't worry unca Donald, the dentist said that the effect will pass in four hours!" Dewey said.

"Oh me, oh my! At least let me breathe!" Donald managed to loosen his grip a little so he could breathe better.

His friends was laughing silently to him "What?"

"Nothing." They said. "You can leave early today if you need to, Donald 'my family don't like me' Duck" Mickey needled his friend.

"It's wrong, his middle name is Fauntleroy." Scrooge added.

"Uncle Scrooge!" Donald complained.

"Donnie!" Scrooge happily tightened his hug. The friends and nephews laughed of that cuteness while Donald was mad.

Luckily for Donald, the effect of anesthesia took longer than expected to wear off. Scrooge made all of them walk down the aisle holding hands, they ate ice creams, walked in the park, and then took the old man to Donald's house for dinner and to sleep, because he didn't want to go to the Money Bin. The effect of the anesthesia wore off early in the morning.

[quill-pen]

Scrooge Headcanons Masterlist

Scrooge is a switch NSFW

Scrooge is all about eye contact NSFW

Scrooge's NSFW alphabet: A & B

Scrooge's NSFW alphabet: C-G

Scrooge's NSFW alphabet: H-K

Scrooge's NSFW alphabet: L & M

Scrooge's NSFW alphabet: N-Z

Bess' NSFW alphabet

Scrooge proposes with flower rings SFW

Who Isabel married and why that makes it even sadder SFW

~Modern AU HC: Bess meets Scrooge pre-visitation SFW

Scrooge doesn't like being called 'Benny' SFW

Scrooge rolls his 'r's--anyone else notice? SFW

Scrooge plays the piano--end of discussion SFW

What Scrooge's personality type is and what Bess' personality type is and why it works SFW

Things that Bess will definitely do in the fic we just might not ever see them--lol SFW

Scrooge is gonna get long hair--deal with it SFW

Scrooge's favorite color SFW

The Scrooges: Victorian styles SEXTING NSFW

Scrooge honoring Jen SFW

Bess just needs some long, deep snuggles, okay? SFW

~(Probably) Modern AU HC: The "get along" shirt SFW

Granny FeFe's bed

Ebenezer Scrooge is a foot-popping-kiss kisser SFW

Scrooge always romances his wifey NSFW-ish (gif)

Ebeness' safe-word NSFW

Scrooge's body hair NSFW

Scrooge physique NSFW

Bess with the cute aggression SFW

Scrooge gets an accent when he gets heated SFW

Bess goes posh when she gets heated SFW

Bess Scrooge and her... interesting vocabulary SFW

Ebenezer Scrooge and holding his liquor (ficlets for examples) NSFW

Scrooge fell first SFW

Ebenezer's robe SFW

Eb's watch chimes because nostalgia for me SFW

Bess is quite low-maintenance in romance SFW

SHIRTLESS, SWEATY EBENEZER DOING FARMWORK--THIS IS HAPPENING--YOU'RE WELCOME SFW

More fun and sexy Scrooge farmwork SFW

Josephine Sulivan--Fashion designer extraordinaire! SFW

Bess talks to the animals SFW

~Modern AU HC: Cotton briefs are sexy SFW

Ebenezer's father SFW

Those bed curtains are handy for many reasons NSFW

~Modern AU HC: Netlix and chill NSFW (just to be safe)

A brief history of Jacob and Beatrice Marley SFW

Bess' body hair SFW

Bess' favorite and least favorite colors SFW

Ebenezer is top-tier dad material SFW

Scrooge-Sullivan family height comparisons SFW

Bess' hair is glorious and Ebenezer loves it SFW

Do not call Bess "the little woman" SFW

The kids think Bess is awesome SFW

American vs. British SFW

~Modern AU HC: The result of breaking up with Oliver SFW

The sweet, protective things Ebenezer does SFW

Fluffy the Turkey SFW

Adopted Scrooge headcanon: Grind or bounce? SFW

Beryl's last name SFW

~Modern HS AU HC: Bess was an emo girl SFW

~Modern AU HC: Ebeness couple shirts SFW

~Modern AU HC: Scrooge characters Starbucks orders SFW

~Modern AU HC: Kick-boxing Bess SFW

~Modern AU HC: Mixtapes SFW

"I'm not perfect, but I'll be as close as I can be for you" SFW

Bess' oral fixation NSFW

Lots of head kisses SFW

Scrooge characters' ages SFW

Just sayin'--Scrooge is probably wearing long undies SFW

Wedding and engagement rings SFW

I still call them the Hannahs SFW

~Modern AU HC: Fourth of July SFW

~Modern AU HC: Motorcycle SFW

~Modern AU HC: Elvish SFW

~Modern AU HC: Bess' YouTube SFW

Portraits SFW

Do NOT insult wifey SFW

Mickey's real name SFW

Birthmark NSFW only because pictures of nude posteriors

~Modern AU HC: Bess and Oliver NSFW-ish

~Modern AU HC: Bess and horror movies SFW

*Sims AU HC: Why it took so long for Bess and Connie to meet SFW

*Sims AU HC: Ebenezer and Ebenezar SFW

~Modern AU HC: Tattoos SFW

*Sims AU HC: Bess just LOVES to torment Orin SFW (mostly--involves a crude bumper sticker)

^^Continuation of above SFW^^

*Adopted Sims AU HC: Scrooge family meeting Bea SFW

*Adopted Sims AU HC: Scrooge family meeting George SFW

*Timeless Sims AU HC: Connie and Bess-"Yes you are flirting, honey." SFW

Bess and self-care SFW

Pinkie-swear--Eb and Millie SFW

~Modern AU HC: Cutting hair SFW

George's shirts SFW

~Modern AU HC: Eb's shirts SFW

⚔️DND AU HC: Eb and Bess origins SFW

~Modern AU HC: Bess' opinion on new age SFW

[thethingything]

7, 23 & 46 for tha weird asks ^_^

7: hair-ties or scrunchies?

normally hair-ties but that's mostly because we bought a bunch of them at once last year and never got round to buying any scrunchies. I kind of want to get some scrunchies now though. also the hair-tie I normally use is a yellow one

23: how do you feel about chilly weather?

I kinda like it because it means we can get really cosy and wear wrm fluffy clothes, but it does make some of our medical issues worse (joint pain, raynauds, etc). it's easier for us to handle than hot weather is though.

46: favourite holiday film?

so as a kid we loved watching the 1951 version of Scrooge and I got to watch part of that last year and really enjoyed it, but I also really want to say The Boy, The Mole, The Fox, and The Horse because we watched that on christmas eve and then watched it a couple more times afterwards and I would highly recommend it

[rosiewitchescottage]

After the glorious 1951 movie starring Alistair Sim, this is my second favourite movie of A Christmas Carol.

It has all the quirky charm of every story told Muppet style. Yet it manages to remain true to Dickens' book.

Sir Michael Caine was an unexpected choice as Ebenezer Scrooge, but he pulls it off, 'like a good 'un'.

And like all the best human co stars of The Muppets, he treats Kermit, Gonzo, Miss Piggy, Fozzy etc simply as fellow performers, not as puppets.

So when we add in the splendid musical score and songs. We have an absolute winner.

On Christmas Eve I'll be watching Alistair Sim late at night with my Hubby.

Earlier in the day, I'll be watching Michael Caine and The Muppets, on my own. So that I can happily sob my fluffy little heart out, as usual, as Kermit and Miss Piggy's Cratchit family sing about the blessing of family love.

[grapesodadarkchocolate]

On My Mind: Not wanting a cotton candy Christmas

How Cotton Candy Is Made | Unwrapped | Food Network:  Watch , June 8, 2020 🎥

Ramble Write: I know this time of year has taught me about honesty. Not making the moment up or pretending it to be something other than what it actually is. Not much gets kept under the emotional rock. The one that at other times of the year seems to be allowed or at least is less present. Less in your face. If a gesture is only offered because it is a holiday, what does that mean about the other 364 days of the year? A “reach out” at Christmas because ???? The Tuesday before last doesn’t count? Or the Monday after the first full moon, what about that day? Or the first snowfall? All days that could easily be granted their own “reach out." Other very regular days where what has gone off course could be addressed. Where the truth gets to reside. It is where honest living asks us to speak up with what is truly transpiring. Is Christmas Day an easy target to not really say anything? To feel you are doing your “job,” being the “bigger person” in the relationship and yet nothing is actually said. It is much like cotton candy. As you eat it, it simply melts away to nothing. It is big and fluffy and yet it is all just colored sugar and air. Huh. Living a life more substantial and real. Having my fur loved off, is what I prefer.

Being real is hard. It is where Christmas time is pushing the truth envelope open demanding us to follow the road less traveled. Life, otherwise, is all empty bowed boxes and unlit houses where we roam on our own in the dark. It is Scrooge on Christmas Eve or no livestock in the stable. It is out of tune carols and burnt sugar cookies left unfrosted. It is missing the mark of what I believe this time of the year portends. Asking for meaning and an intent to do a deeper dive. To sing and dance and confess. Being real with those we aim to love with the honest intention of being more Christ like in all of our actions. The reminder of the season is blasting me in the face. Not altering its message when I simply feel there is too much heat in the kitchen. 

Wanting more of a Herdman Christmas ( The Best Christmas Pageant Ever Trailer ) where honesty is what is sought with little compromising. Where learning and growing while probing for answers to questions that are often never retrieved. It is where falling down can happen as often as standing upright, especially when sense is sought as things seem so nonsensical. It is living not existing. Growing each respective day, seeking to move toward additional understanding about this complex world we all inhabit. Where love and kindness seek to lead. Where performative connections are called out for what they are not. They are not a way of relating that breeds honesty. It’s a narrowness that gives a false sense that all is right with the world.

Transformation has to be a part of how life is lived. Pulling oneself away from that which is actually at hand isn’t going to fly. Staying small does only a disservice to everyone present. It dishonors the gift of life we all have been given. The gift of making this a better world, how ever that might look for each one of us. Being honest and forthcoming about what is transpiring. I have been getting too entangled in what doesn’t make any sense. Trying to make it be other than what it is. If life were a movie there would be enlightenment for all the actors casted before the final credits would roll. People would see the light. Altering their actions and assumptions. Contributing something that speaks more forthright. Claiming their own imperfections. 

Being kind, loving and honest seems so much easier, why is that not the road most often taken? Why go small and then smaller still and pretend that your actions are genuine? Weird upon weird. Strange upon strange. Being authentically connected is the world I want to be roaming in. Inhabiting that which is real, as imperfect as it may be. Trying to fill up one another’s cup, instead of opting to leave it bone dry empty. Being more than less — my never ending mantra about life. +++

Resources: 

The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams: Watch 🎥

Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown 📕

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever: Trailer 🎄

Broken Open by Elizabeth Lesser 📗

December 19, 1943

Dearest Uncle Richard ✈️, Thanks for the gift of leading me to crafting your story. Allowing my heart to pilot the way, I found you. Your transformational strength charmed and empowered me. I will be forever grateful.  Love beyond words ❤️,  Your ever inquisitive niece 

Resource: Tree. Table. Book. by Lois Lowry 📗

[daydreamingleclerc]

it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas // charles leclerc

in which, you and your children wake up charles - a certified humbug - early one morning so you can decorate the house for christmas.

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, dad!charles that’ll make your heart go boom, the odd swear words. other than that this is pretty tame so enjoy. as usual, feedback is greatly appreciated! and enjoy the christmas themed stuff <3

requested: no

the return of charles & esm��e !!!! plus some more little leclerc’s <3

charles leclerc was many things, a man of great renown, a man of many talents, a man with several world championships to his name, a man who bloomed in fatherhood.

there was one thing he was most of all, and despite never admitting it, your husband was a humbug. he loved christmas day, the presents, the food, the family time, but the lead up was a thing he couldn’t stand; and as the pair of you grew up and had children, that seemed to get worse.

december 1st rolled around faster than you’d expected, and esmèe, your eldest daughter who was six, had officially broken up from primary school. as had her little brothers, antoine and lucien, who were three and a half. your youngest daughter, juliette, was six months, and so she was usually permanently at your side.

it was difficult to try and figure out what to do with the children during their time off from school, but it proved even harder during the christmas holidays, especially now that there were four of them.

you’d managed to drag charles out from his scrooge-like hole to come and watch the christmas lights switch on because esmée was singing in the choir, of that he was proud, but he was anything less than amused when the kids squealed with joy after the town was lit up in a beautiful array of colours. plus, he still was not used to the bitterly cold winters of your hometown where the six of you now resided.

“i just don’t understand why they have to be switched on so early.” charles stated, fumbling with the lock on the front door because of his cold, shivering hands. the boys bickered jokingly behind you, shoving one another with their shoulders as they waddled up the path in their matching snowsuits and wellington boots.

“it’s december the first tomorrow, charles and the children all broke up from school today,” you replied, counting the heads of your three walking children as they entered the house. juliette was bundled up cosily across your chest in her fluffy pramsuit and wooly hat, “that’s why the lights were switched on tonight.”

“i know but—”

“—mummy! daddy!” esmée squealed excitedly, bundling in through the kitchen door. her cheeks were red and blotchy from the cold, and charles’ face softened when he looked at his baby girl, her face almost the splitting image of his.

“yes, sweetheart?”

“the naughty elves are on the fireplace! and they’ve left us a note! come and see!”

charles shot you a look of daggers through slitted eyes, irritated that you’d already kicked off the christmas celebrations in the house. esmée took her dad’s hand in hers, practically dragging him through the house until they stopped in the living room. the twins were already there, waiting eagerly for the rest of you to join.

“look! daddy! can we open the letter?”

esmée pulled charles down to her level, and he saw the four elves all sat along the top of the fireplace with a little envelope held in their hands. you smiled softly when you joined them all in the living room. charles looked over at you and you shrugged, “don’t look at me, baby, they’ve asked you.”

he looked back from you to the three eagle eyed children staring back at him, and as much as he wanted to say no and call the whole thing off, he couldn’t say no to his kids.

“okay! we can get the letter, but only if you read it to daddy.”

esmée, lucien and antoine all squealed and esmée, being the taller of the three, reached in carefully and retrieved the letter. charles sat down next to you on the sofa and the kids all bundled up in your laps - your eldest daughter on charles’ lap, antoine on yours with juliette and lucien stuffed in the middle. esmée handed the letter to antoine, who let his brother take the other corner of the envelope and together they peeled it open. esmée snuggled into charles’ side, and began to read the letter.

“dear esmée, antoine, lucien and juliette, we are your elves, elfie, elvie, eddie and ellie, and christmas is nearly here, so santa wanted us to keep an eye on you all to make sure you’re being good (even if we like to be a little bit naughty ourselves!) we will be here to play until christmas day, remember though, you aren’t allowed to touch us or else we lose all our christmas magic! we’ll try to behave while you sleep, but we like to get into mischief too! let’s make sure santa doesn’t have to check his list to find your names on the naughty list! be on your best behavior and enjoy finding us, love from elfie, elvie, eddie and ellie.”

charles, despite himself, was smiling. his heart swelled at how excited esmée, antoine and lucien got at the thought of their elves coming back, and the only part of the lead up to christmas he would admit to enjoying is seeing the look on his children’s face at what kind of mess their elves were getting themselves into when they woke up in the morning.

“mummy, they remember our names!” antoine’s nose scrunched up as he looked up at you, his eyes a deep brown like charles’.

“i know, baby,” you kissed his head and ruffled his thick head of hair, “they know everybody’s names.”

charles jumped up, and turned to face the five of you. “right, who wants a bath?” he wiggled his finger around the kids, “i think lucien needs a bath!”

charles’ fingers tickled at lucien’s side and the little boy wriggled around on the sofa in a fit of giggles, “no! daddy, no!” he managed to choke out, “anty needs a bath!”

soon, all three of the bigger children were being tickled by charles, and juliette started to stir on your chest. “i think mummy needs a bath!” esmée said, pointing over at you. charles leaned down and jokingly sniffed at your skin, making a scrunched up face and nodding.

“mummy smells,” charles noted, agreeing with his daughter, “she definitely needs a bath.”

“mummy hardly ever has time to have a bath, because she’s got four kids and a husband to look after,” you kicked your husband in the shin softly, “isn’t that right, baby?”

just as charles was about to lean in and kiss you, juliette started to wail. he frowned, pulling the hood and hat from his youngest daughter’s head and giving her a soft kiss through her thin hair.

“what’s all that crying for, babygirl?” he squeezed her cheek softly between his finger and thumb and she stopped wailing momentarily — juliette loved the attention, much like her big sister — but she soon continued to wail. “are you hungry? is that what’s wrong?”

charles’ baby voice was something you adored. “boys, esmée, are you gonna go with daddy so he can give you baths?” the boys nodded, jumping up from their place on the sofa, “and then if you’re all good mummy’ll let you have some chocolate after dinner, okay?”

the boys nodded eagerly and raced one another up the stairs, followed by charles’ shout to ‘please just go careful’.

“can i help you feed juliette, mummy?” esmée asked, taking up the extra space on the sofa by laying down and resting her head on your shoulder. she stroked juliette’s hair softly and you smiled, running your fingers through her curls.

“of course, sweetheart,” you kissed her head, “promise you’ll have a bath afterwards, okay?”

“mhm, i promise.”

you kissed her head again and told her to head to the pantry and pick a pouch of baby food that juliette could eat. you began bouncing the baby up and down so she could stop wailing, and charles let her suckle on his finger for a little moment of peace. he leaned in for once again in an attempt for that kiss, but it was interrupted by antoine shouting for him to come upstairs.

“i might end up getting that kiss by the end of the day if i’m lucky.” he joked.

*

“sophia‘s mummy let her decorate her christmas tree yesterday.”

it was a simple statement that esmée had said while you were feeding juliette, she was sat at the dinner table next to you with her favourite strawberry milkshake and twisty straw, feet dangled over the edge.

“sophia’s got her christmas tree up already?” you questioned, but you weren’t sure why. you knew sophia’s mother, and she could have her christmas tree up all year round if she could get away with it.

“mhm, and so has cindy and so has marcus,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. you scooped some of the fallen sweet potato and pumpkin mixture from juliette’s chin with the spoon and she smiled at you giddily when you put the spoon in her mouth. “when can we put our christmas tree up, mummy?”

“i don’t know sweetie.”

“can we put it up tomorrow?”

you thought of your husband, how much distaste he would have at seeing the christmas tree sitting in the living room this early, at seeing the tinsel lining the stairwell and the christmas lights out the front of the house. but then you thought of your children, and how their eyes would light up and their giggles would fill the room exactly like they did last december.

“okay, baby. we can put them up tomorrow, but you need to promise not to tell daddy, okay? we can surprise him with the decorations tomorrow morning.”

“is daddy going to be mad?” esmée pouted, worried that she was going to get told off if they went through with their master plan. you paused feeding juliette and looked across at your oldest child. your hand stroked at her face and you kissed her nose.

“no, angel, daddy isn’t going to be mad with any of us, he just…” you paused, thinking of how to phrase what you wanted to say, “daddy’s just a little bit weird when it comes to christmas decorations, but he enjoys them when they’re up.”

she smiled softly and you kissed her nose. you could hear charles and the boys upstairs making some sort of scenario up in the bathroom, because there was an awful lot of splashing, shouting and laughter. “why don’t you go and get ready for a bath, and then maybe if you ask daddy nicely you can have a piano lesson.”

your daughter nodded, kissing your cheek before kissing juliette’s head, and off she scurried. if you really were going to put up the decorations tomorrow, you had a lot of planning to do.

juliette’s hands flew up and down with excitement when she’d finished the last spoonful, and antoine and lucien came downstairs in their ferrari towels, which charles’ longtime teammate and best friend, carlos, had bought them as one of their many birthday presents this past birthday.

soon after, esmée returned hand in hand with charles, both of them beaming from ear to ear after a quick, but very effective shower & piano lesson. charles took juliette off of your hands and allowed you to cook dinner for the kids, wandering off with her to the play room so she could do tummy time.

“mummy, are we really going to put up our tree tomorrow?”

lucien spoke from the dinner table, eagerly awaiting his dinner with his knife and fork in either hand. antoine sat opposite him and esmée sat at the head of the table, a pink blush coming to her cheeks.

“lucien! you weren’t supposed to tell her you knew.” your daughter frowned at her plan failing.

“we might be,” you shrugged at your boys, who looked at you with eager, excited eyes. “but that depends on how much you love me.”

they giggled, shouting and screaming about how they loved you more than anything in the world, and as you handed them their plates they each gave you a kiss on the cheek. you ruffled their curls, “you have to promise mummy that you won’t tell daddy, okay?”

“promise,” antoine said, nodding his head affirmatively and holding out his pinky finger for you to lock yours into.

the evening drew to a close eventually, with esmée falling asleep on the sofa opposite you and charles under her favourite blanket and the boys in bed just after seven o’clock. charles conked out on the other side of the sofa, with juliette splayed out on his naked chest, and you saw this as the perfect time to get out the decorations and hide them in the playroom.

most of the decorations were in the hidden cupboard tucked to the side of the playroom, and you were grateful that you threw them in there at the end of january during the lazy stage of your pregnancy when charles was away training and the children were at school, rather than climbing up into the attic. it certainly made tonight a lot easier.

there were several things missing, like the wreath you normally hung on the front door, and one of the lights that you hung on a bedroom window, but you figured you’d find them later.

“charles,” you whispered, prodding your husbands shoulder, “baby it’s almost one in the morning, come on.”

you managed to place juliette in the cot beside the bed without her waking, and charles carried esmée to bed without another word. his arms wrapped around your waist and he puckered his lips for a kiss, which you obliged.

*

esmée, lucien and antoine had managed to find the christmas decorations before you’d even woken up at 7:30 that morning, and it was only because juliette stirred that you got up in the first place. you left the bedroom with her so that charles could sleep in a little longer, only to find your three other babies with the santa hats that pascale had bought them last year at the lights all sitting on their heads.

“mummy, look, the elves found the decorations and left us this note!”

antoine handed you the note and you chuckled at seeing your handwriting scrawled on the paper from only eight hours earlier.

dear esmée, antoine, lucien and juliette, we found these in the cupboard and snuck them in places all around the house. your mission for today is to retrieve all the items and decorate the house, but listen to mummy when she tells you where to hang the stockings or else they won’t get filled! p.s, you must make sure daddy gets into the christmas spirit or else he won’t get any presents! good luck, we’ll report back to santa tonight! love from, elfie, elvie, eddie and ellie.

“can we please go and wake daddy?”

“okay, sweetie, make sure you take him a santa hat though, okay?”

your children nodded and rushed through the door to your bedroom, barging in on charles who was barely awake. the children all bundled on top of him and he pulled the duvet up high, covering his chest and he smiled sleepily when he saw them all with their sleepy eyes and toothy grins.

“morning babies.”

“daddy, look!” antoine shoved the letter in charles’ face, “the elves sent us this letter and they found our christmas hats!”

charles rubbed his eyes and you and juliette sat at the edge of the bed, admiring your family as you sat down. “can we please put up the decorations? please?” esmée drew out the ‘e’ syllable at the end of please, begging her father to let them do as the letter says. charles kissed her head.

“if that’s what the elves say then who am i to say no?”

your children all cheered in excitement and quickly pulled the hat from behind them, “wear this daddy! wear it!” lucien jeered, wagging the hat in front of charles’ face until he gave in and stuck the hat on his head.

“come on, daddy! the elves put the tree in the playroom! we have to put it up so they can tell santa!”

esmée grabbed charles’ hand and juliette began to cry on your chest again. she was hungry, and you smiled down at your family. charles pushed back the covers and you thanked the gods above that he was wearing boxers, and got up to follow his kids to the door.

“mummy, are you coming?” antoine asked, his voice soft and feeble as he stood in the door.

“mummy’s gotta feed juliette, bud,” charles ruffled his sons hair, “she’ll meet us and help out soon, okay?”

your son nodded and you ordered them all back in to come and give you a kiss, “and you, charles,” you scowled your at your husband until he kissed you.

“did you really think i’d forget to kiss you, mon chérie?”

your children all made sounds akin to a retch when they saw you kiss, turning up their noses at the sight and looking away. he kissed the top of juliette’s head and then went back in for another kiss with you, “come down soon, okay?”

you nodded, and began to feed juliette almost instantly. her feed took a particularly long time, but she soon fell straight back to sleep almost immediately, and so you stuck the baby monitor to the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

when you arrived downstairs, the christmas tree had been assembled in its usual place, and the kids were bickering about where on the tree to put the tinsel, while charles was telling them to play nice and pulling out extensive decorations with a furrowed eyebrow; he clearly couldn’t remember where they’d come from.

“why don’t we ask mummy where to put the tinsel!”

esmée spotted you in the doorway and ran over with extensive ribbons of red tinsel that were all tied at the ends to make them longer, while antoine and lucien held up a long golden piece of tinsel. charles was still pulling out random decorations with a puzzled look on his face.

“i think you should put the tinsel wherever you like,” you said, crouching down to their level, where they all bundled into your chest, “and let daddy help you with the top, yeah?”

the three of them nodded and you smiled, your heart beating double time in your chest. “what are you going to do, mummy?”

“well,” you said, hooking your arms around charles’ waist and letting him smother you, “i was thinking… why don’t i go and make us all breakfast while you decorate the house with daddy, how does that sound?”

your children nodded excitedly and ran around with the tinsel, claiming they were creating a new game called tinsel wars. charles kissed you once more and leaned down to face you.

“i love you.”

“i love you too, baby.” you kissed his lips and rested a hand on his chest as you watched your children continue to play with their tinsel, and you realised that you wouldn’t have your family any other way.

[stevesbestgirl]

Their Girl - Christmas Special

Soft!Daddy!Stucky x Little!Reader

5098 Words

A/N: Shameless, self-indulgent fluff. This is long and I haven’t had time to proofread it, but I doubt I’ll have time tomorrow to get it up, so I’ll try to give it a read through tomorrow. Enjoy! And Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!

You fidgeted with the fluffy skirt of your dress, toying with the fuzzy white trim around the sleeves. You were half-hiding behind Bucky’s legs- luckily for you, he wasn’t really one for parties either. Steve was across the room, sipping a beer and laughing with Natasha and Sam. Wanda and Peter were camped out, coloring by the enormous Christmas tree at the center of the room. Their crayons were moving over the paper, but the two of them were obviously  eyeing the presents wrapped in sparkly paper. Loki was pretending to read a book in the corner, but his eyes were shifty, no doubt scanning the room for opportunities to toy with someone. 

The room was lavishly decorated with lights and garland and Christmas music drifted lazily from F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s speaker system. You loved Christmas- the decorations, the food, the parties, the music, you name it. But this was a boring grown-up party. And you weren’t quite used to being around everyone all at the same time. You were nervous.

Bucky draped his arm over your shoulders, “Are you sure you don’t want to go play, babydoll?” He pointed at Wanda and Peter, “I see some new coloring books over there.” 

You shook your head, “Nuh-uh.”

He gave your shoulder a squeeze, “How about something to drink then, hm? I’m kind of thirsty.”

“Okay.” You stayed close to Bucky as he made his way to the bar, grabbing a beer for himself and filling a cup with chocolate milk for you. “Thank you, Daddy,” you chimed, clutching his hand in yours. 

“You’re welcome, doll. Do you want anything else?” He leaned in and kissed your forehead. You shook your head; you just wanted to stay with Bucky until it was time to go home.

“How are my two favorite Scrooges doing?” Steve’s voice floated over as he crossed the room.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “We’re doing just fine, thanks for asking Stevie.”

“I need to borrow Daddy for a minute, okay angel?” Steve slung an arm over Bucky’s shoulders and began to steer him away.

Unwilling to let go of Bucky’s hand, you trailed after them with a faint whimper. Bucky shooed Steve away, promising to catch up in a minute before crouching in front of you, “I’ve gotta go socialize a little bit, okay? Why don’t you go play, just for a few minutes?”

Instead of answering, you whined again, shuffling in between his knees and burying your face in his neck. He gave a bemused chuckle, “Oh, babydoll, you’ll be okay. I promise.” He led you over to Wanda and Peter and left you with another kiss on the forehead. You watched him take a long swig of his beer before making his way over to the other adults.

You looked at Peter and Wanda for a second; they were animatedly discussing what could be in the presents. Wanda’s oversized sweater was covered in stray glitter and Peter had tinsel stuck in his hair. Instead of joining them, you shuffled over toward Loki, sidling up next to him.

“What are you reading?”

“Hm?” Loki tore his gaze from the crowd of grown-ups, “Oh, this? That’s nothing.”

“Then what are you doing?” you asked.

“Same as you. Avoiding them,” he tipped his chin at Wanda and Peter.

“How come?”

“Why are you?”

“I asked first.”

He heaved a sigh, “Look at them; all they care about is gifts. This whole holiday is pointless.”

“It is not!”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” you huffed. 

“Then what is the point?” he asked scornfully. “And if you say Santa Clause, I’m leaving.”

“Making people happy. And being nice.” You crossed your arms, “You don’t get it. You just like to tease.”

He smirked a little, “Yeah, I do. But I can be nice too.”

“Prove it,” you challenged.

“Fine,” he huffed. He stood, grabbing your hand, “Come on.”

“Wait, where are we going?” You frantically looked back over your shoulder at your daddies, but they were still engaged in conversation.

“We’re going to do something nice.”

He led you to the kitchen, where he began rifling through the pantry with single-minded determination.

You glanced around, waiting nervously for an adult to catch you somewhere you shouldn’t be, “What are you getting?” 

He continued to dig, clearly looking for something in particular, “Mother always told me food is what makes people happy. Whenever we had visitors in Asgard, we would have a feast for them.”

Your eyes grew wide; you were always fascinated when Thor and Loki talked about Asgard, “Really?”

“Yes- it always works.” He emerged from the pantry, triumphantly brandishing a package of oreo cookies, “We can make some of those holiday treats you Midgardians are so fond of.”

That actually wasn’t a bad idea. “But we need frosting. They can’t be Christmas cookies if they don’t have red and green frosting.”

“In the fridge- I think there’s some leftover from when Natasha and Wanda were baking yesterday.” 

You nodded, hurrying to the fridge while Loki unsleeved cookies and laid them out on a plate. You grabbed the nearly empty frosting bag from the shelf and held it up, “D’you think it’s enough?”

He nodded, “Bring it over.” He took the bag and squeezed some out while you dug through the drawers for a spoon. Spreading the frosting over the cookies, you licked a little bit from your fingers, giggling. This was way more fun than the party.

Loki glanced at you, grinning toothily at the sound of your laughter, “See? I can be nice.” You nodded, unwilling to vocally admit that you’d been wrong. He squeezed some frosting onto a finger, “And I can still tease too.” 

Too slowly, you realized his intent, and then you had frosting down the bridge of your nose. Swiping the bulk of it off, you lunged at him, but he deftly dodged out of the way, laughing.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” you pouted.

He considered for a moment, “Fine. But you can’t tell anyone.” 

You nodded your agreement and he tucked his hands behind his back to show you he wouldn’t fight back. Dragging green frosting down his nose was satisfying, pulling more giggles from you.

“What’s going on in here?” You whirled around at the sound of Steve’s voice, your guilt literally right on your face. 

“We wanted to make Christmas cookies for the party,” Loki said smoothly. 

You picked up one of the oreos smeared with frosting and held it out, “Do you want one, Papa?” You were hopeful; maybe the cookies would make him forget that you’d snuck out of the party.

“Y/N, you know better than to wander off.” He’d used your real name; that wasn’t a good sign. He grabbed a paper towel from the counter and cleaned off your nose, “And you’ve got frosting all over your face.” He urged Loki over and did the same for him.

“That’s my fault,” Loki spoke up. “I made her come with me. And I put frosting on her.” You stared at Loki; it was unlike him to take the blame. But he was trying to be nice.

“Is that true?” Steve asked, gazing at you intently.

You bit your lip; you didn’t want to get in trouble. Even less so today, of all days. But it was Christmas Eve. “No, Papa. I wanted to teach him about Christmas. It was me.”

He hoisted you up on his hip, “Then we’ll talk about this later. For now, let’s get back.”

You gave him your best doe eyes, “But Papa, what about the cookies? We made ‘em.”

He sighed, glancing back at the messy plate of frosting covered oreos, “Fine. You can bring them back with us, Loki.” 

Beaming triumphantly, Loki grabbed the plate and trailed after you and Steve to the party. Everything was as you’d left it, though Thor and Bucky approached as you came in.

Bucky reached for you, “Where’d you get to, doll?”

Steve handed you over and spoke before you could, “She and Loki were in the kitchen. They were making cookies.” He tilted his head at the plate of cookies Loki was still holding, though this time, a hint of a smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.

Bucky gave an exaggerated gasp, “You made those?”

“Yeah! Do you want one, Daddy?”

“I sure do.” He took a cookie, giving you a little nudge on his hip, “Did you offer one to Papa?”

“Papa doesn’t like Christmas cookies,” you glanced at Steve. It was why you hadn’t asked to bake any.

Steve seemed to realize this, brushing your hair back from your face, “I would have made some for you, angel. I didn’t realize you liked them so much.”

“Steve Rogers, you dislike cookies?” Thor asked, brow furrowed. 

“I don’t, I just don’t like having so many sweets around,” Steve answered guiltily. He turned back to you, “Of course I’ll have one, sweetheart. And if you want, we can make some tomorrow and share them with everyone.”

You instantly brightened, “Really?”

He took a cookie from Loki and bit off half of it, making sure to hum his approval before he fed you the other half, “Absolutely.”

Thor glanced at Loki, “He wasn’t up to anything, was he?”

Steve shook his head, “Not that I could tell. It seemed like they were just frosting cookies. Though they both had frosting on their faces.”

Thor raised an eyebrow, but he seemed satisfied with that, patting Loki on the back and ushering him over to the snack table to put the plate down.

Bucky toted you over to the Christmas tree, setting you down by Peter and Wanda, who had moved significantly closer to the tree and were discussing something in hushed tones. Tony came striding over, one eyebrow raised, “Do we have all of our rugrats now?”

“Present and accounted for,” Bucky chuckled.

“Alright, anklebiters, gather round. It’s time for a Stark family tradition: the Christmas pickle.”

Steve snorted a laugh, “Are you telling me that Howard Stark used to hide a pickle in his Christmas tree?”

“Absolutely not. He hated the pickle. But my mom would sneak it in there every year before the Christmas party. Drove the old man mad. So it only seems appropriate to keep it going.”

You looked around at the others; no one else looked confused. “What’s Christmas pickle?” You murmured the question to Wanda, hoping she would subtly explain it to you.

Instead, she blurted it out, “Y/N has never played before!”

Your face got hot, but Tony knelt beside you, “It’s really easy, squirt. Somewhere in the tree, there’s an ornament that looks like a pickle. First person to find it wins an extra present. Got it?”

You nodded, glancing back at Bucky and Steve for reassurance. They urged you closer to the tree, whispering encouragement in your ear.

“Alright, everybody ready?” Everyone nodded, though Loki didn’t look particularly interested. You guessed he was only participating because Thor had insisted.

Tony gave the go-ahead and you carefully examined the tree, unwilling to wreck the decorations in the process. But it didn’t matter; it seemed like mere seconds before Wanda was jumping up and down, “I found it!”

“Guess I should have made it a little more difficult,” Tony mused. He plucked one of the gifts from under the tree- a white gift bag with shiny, silver tissue paper.

But before he could hand it to Wanda, Peter cried out, stamping his foot, “Wanda cheated!”

“What do you mean, Pete?” Tony asked, curiosity piqued.

“She was looking for the pickle while we were coloring,” Peter protested.

Wanda looked aghast at Peter’s betrayal, “Peter knew too! He’s just mad he didn’t get it first!”

Now Tony looked disappointed, “That true, Petie?”

Peter’s face flushed and he didn’t answer, instead running off to hide under the snack table. You weren’t sure what to make of all of this; what was the big deal? It was just a pickle. 

Tony sighed, “Okay then. All the kids join Peter under the snack table. I’m re-hiding the pickle. And if I see anyone peeking- and I will see- you’re out of the game.”

Seemingly relieved to not be in trouble, although Natasha looked quite annoyed, Wanda grabbed your hand and pulled you over to the snack table. Once you were under the cover of the tablecloth, you waited until Tony gave the okay again. Wanda dragged you back out with her, though once you were back in front of the tree, she released your hand- it was every man for themselves. 

Now that you were on even footing, you felt more comfortable playing the game. You looked with a bit more enthusiasm, though you were still mindful of the decorations. 

Seconds ticked by and you felt sure that someone else was going to shout their victory at any moment. But Wanda and Peter were just as focused on their search as you. 

“Switch places with me?” Loki’s voice broke your musing.

You hesitated for a second; it would be like Loki to toy with you, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt, nodding and swapping places. Wanda and Peter noticed the switch and followed suit, seeming to grow frustrated with their lack of results.

You began to look in your new spot, but you didn’t have to look far; there it was. Right on the front centermost branch. You cupped it in your hand, glancing at Loki; there was no way he could have missed it. He caught your eye, only offering a half-hearted shrug in response. 

Taking it carefully off the tree, you held it up to Tony, who was supervising Peter and Wanda this time. “That’s the game folks, we have our winner.” He seemed relieved to be done with it at that point. He traded you the gift bag for the pickle while Wanda sulked in the background, although Natasha was quick to remedy that.

Steve and Bucky approached and knelt beside you, “What did you get, sweetheart?”

Removing the paper, you pulled out a gift card with Donkey Kong emblazoned on the front. Bucky examined the text, making a face, “We might have to swap it out for something else, doll.”

“What is it?”

“Something wrong?” Tony asked, approaching with a pouty Peter on his hip.

“She doesn’t have one of those game systems,” Steve explained.

“No worries. I’ll replace it, alright squirt?” You nodded; you were disappointed, although you weren’t sure if it was because you couldn’t use your gift or because it was for the game you wanted.

“Well, now that the first gift is opened, how about we tear into the rest of these? Hm?” Tony set Peter down, who immediately cheered up. 

Bucky and Steve sat beside you on the floor while Tony distributed gifts. You had three; one from Tony and Peter, one from Thor and Loki, and one from Natasha and Wanda.

“Go ahead, baby,” Bucky urged, putting the present from Nat and Wanda in your lap. Peter and Wanda were already tearing into their own gifts. 

Tearing off the glittery paper revealed a gift basket. It was full to the brim with bath stuff; bubble bath, toys, bath bombs, a waterproof shower speaker, a hooded towel, and a set of cozy pajamas, complete with fuzzy socks.

Steve pushed over Tony and Peter’s gift next. It was a large box, decorated in red wrapping paper with a gold bow. You tore off the paper, pulling out an easel, complete with real canvases and paints. There was also an art kit, full of crayons and markers and pastels and pretty colored paper to use them on.

Last was Thor and Loki’s gift. It was smaller than the other two, wrapped  in shiny gold paper. Unwrapping the box, you gasped audibly as you caught a glimpse of what was inside.

“What is it, angel?” Steve moved the frayed paper out of the way, revealing the image on the front of the box. “I thought we set a price limit.” He sounded a little annoyed, but you were too over the moon to notice. 

“Daddy! Daddy, d’you see? It’s a game, just like everyone else has!”

“I see, doll,” Bucky chuckled softly. “Stevie,” he squeezed the back of Steve’s  neck, “Let’s not be rude, hm?”

Oblivious to Steve’s frustration, Thor clapped Bucky and Steve on the shoulder, “Quite the idea Loki had, isn’t it? There was some new version he just had to have, so we thought there was no better place for the old one to go. He said she was quite taken with it.”

“That was very thoughtful,” Bucky replied, rubbing Steve’s back reassuringly. 

Beaming, your gaze fell on Loki across the room. He was deliberately not looking your way, it seemed. But it seemed to catch his eye when your face fell; he finally glanced your way, offering a small smile. 

“Can I play right now?” 

“No sweetheart, that would be rude.”

“Later?” you offered hopefully.

“Maybe later.”

“Will you play with me, Papa? I can show you.”

His face softened, if only a little, “Sure, angel.”

Bucky held out a hand, “Here doll, let me hang onto that. Why don’t you go talk to everyone else? See how they liked their presents.”

You were reluctant to part with your new game so quickly, but you knew your daddy would keep it safe. You handed it over and hurried over to Wanda and Peter, excited to tell them you would be able to join them. 

You nodded, giddy with excitement, “Okay! Guess what I got!” You didn’t wait for her to guess, “I got a game, just like you guys! Now I can come visit you and we can play together!”

“Y/N, look! I got a bunch of new movies! We can watch them next time you come visit!”

Wanda squealed and Peter chimed in, “Me too?”

“Yeah!” 

You noticed Loki back in his corner, alone since Thor was still talking to Bucky and Steve. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

You left Wanda and Peter to their gifts and made your way over, clutching your hands behind your back, “Did you like the blankie we got you? I picked it out.” You glanced at the half-opened gravity blanket on the floor by his other gifts. 

He nodded, uncharacteristically shy, “It’s nice. Thanks.”

You rocked on your heels, “Thank you. For the game. ���M really excited.”

That drew a smile from him, “I’m glad you like it.”

“Did you really get a new one?”

“Not yet. But it’ll be here soon.”

“Then we can play together.” He nodded. You opened your mouth to say more, but you heard your name. 

“Babydoll, come on back. It’s almost time to go.”

You glanced at Loki, “I gotta go. See you.” You waved, “Merry Christmas!”

He smiled wryly, “Merry Christmas.”

You practically skipped back to Steve and Bucky, though Steve wandered off to help clean up the stray wrapping paper. 

“You ready to go, doll?” Bucky squeezed your hand. 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, excited to get home. 

Bucky knelt, “Alright, doll. I’m working on Papa, okay? But you gotta play it cool. I know you wanna play your new game, but tonight, I know Papa wants to watch a movie before bedtime. Do you think you can do me a big favor and wait until tomorrow to play?”

Your face fell, “But Papa said-”

“I know he said maybe later. But it would make him really happy if you watched a movie with us tonight.” He cupped your cheek, “Please?”

You gave a reluctant nod, “Okay. I can play tomorrow?”

“I’ll do my best.”

He kissed your nose, “That’s my girl.”

 Steve came back over, “We ready to get going?” You raised your arms and he scooped you up, chuckling, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Bucky gathered up your gifts, somehow managing to juggle them all, “Tell everyone goodbye, babydoll.”

You waved goodbye to everyone as they were gathering up their own things, following up with thank yous for your presents. Wanda and Peter called cheerful goodbyes back and a chorus of Merry Christmases followed the three of you out the door.

“Did you have fun, sweetness?” Steve brushed his hand over your leg, giving you a little squeeze.

You nodded, “Can we watch a movie at home, Papa?”

He seemed surprised at that, “Of course we can, angel.” Bucky gave you a subtle nod of approval over Steve’s shoulder. “What do you say to a bath first?”

Once you were home, bathed, and into your new Christmas pajamas, you climbed onto the couch while Steve and Bucky took seats on either side of you. The opening credits rolled and you accepted your paci from Bucky, feeling content and excited for tomorrow.

*

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but when you woke up, you were in bed. Steve’s arm was draped over your waist and Bucky’s soft, even breathing was warm on your forehead. It didn’t take long for you to remember that today was Christmas, a small gasp escaping your lips. 

You wriggled carefully out of bed, slinking out the bedroom door, too focused on your destination to hear the soft chuckle that left Steve’s lips. You padded out to the living room, eyes growing wide the sight of the Christmas tree, lit up and surrounded by presents. You were proud of the Christmas tree; you’d all decorated it together, with Steve’s Christmas record playing in the background. You’d even put the star on top, after Steve had hoisted you up on his shoulders so you could reach. 

Now, candy canes hung from the branches and the wrapped gifts waited for you to open them. You darted back down the hallway, throwing yourself onto the bed, “Santa came! Daddy, wake up!” You grabbed Steve’s arm and gave him a little shake, squealing when he grabbed you and pulled you back into his grasp.

He gave an exaggerated yawn, “I don’t know sweetheart, I’m pretty sleepy. Maybe we’ll sleep for another couple of hours. What do you think, Buck?”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky mumbed, snaking his arms around your waist.

You wiggled in their arms, “No Papa, it’s Christmas! You gotta wake up! It’s time to open presents!”

“Oh, is it Christmas?” Steve teased. “I completely forgot. Good thing we have you here to remind us.” 

“Are you coming?” you pleaded, jutting your lower lip.

“I suppose so,” Steve chuckled. “You comin’, Buck?”

“‘M comin’.” 

Steve released you, though you were still trapped by Bucky, kissing your forehead before getting out of bed, “Make sure Daddy gets up, okay? I’ll meet you out there, sweetheart.”

“Daddy, c’mon,” you pleaded. 

He yawned, a real yawn, before brushing your cheek with a finger, “Merry Christmas, doll.”

“Merry Christmas, Daddy.”

By the time you finally tugged him out of the bed, Steve had music going in the background and the kitchen smelled like coffee. A groggy Bucky followed you down the hall and Steve handed him a steaming mug. Bucky murmured a thank you and kissed Steve on the cheek before heading into the living room and plopping down on the couch.

“You want some cocoa, angel?” Steve offered you a sippy cup.

“Thank you, Papa. Can we open presents now?”

“Yes, we can open presents now,” he chuckled. Steve followed you into the living room and took a seat on the couch next to Bucky, finally giving you the go-ahead.

 An hour later, all of the gifts had been opened and Steve had finally given the okay for you to play your game while he and Bucky made breakfast. Wrapping paper was strewn across the living room floor, though your gifts were set aside: several new stuffies, a few new outfits, some records of your own for the record player, and a new set of crayons and a coloring book to go with it. You were using a fuzzy new blanket and a custom paci designed with Captain America’s shield on it while you played. 

“Sweetheart, time for breakfast,” Steve called from the kitchen. You carefully put your game down and scurried out to the kitchen, unwilling to risk having it taken away so soon. 

“Do you need help, Papa?” you chirped, hovering at his elbow. 

Bucky ushered you over to the table, hoisting you into your chair, “Everything’s all ready, doll.” He kissed your forehead before he took his own seat. Steve set down a plate piled with pancakes and took his own seat before dishing food out, first for you and then for himself. Bucky cut your pancakes for you.

“Can I play my game some more after breakfast?”

“I was gonna say we should make cookies,” Bucky countered. “That sound good?”

You nodded, “Yeah! And then we can take them to Wanda and Loki and Peter?”

“Sure thing, angel,” Steve agreed, seemingly relieved at the distraction from the video game. 

So, after breakfast, Bucky got out a bowl and gathered everything you needed for cookies. He sat you up on his lap and let you mix the dough until it became too hard for you to stir, taking over and mixing with ease. Once he was satisfied with it, he floured the table and rolled the dough out, setting you to work with the cookie cutters. Pretty soon, you were covered from head to toe in flour, despite how careful you’d been with your cutouts. 

“Doll, you’re supposed to bake with flour, not wear it,” Bucky teased, flicking a bit more in your direction.

“Buck-” Steve sounded exasperated, but he was too late. You squealed a laugh and climbed into his lap, smearing white all down the front of his shirt. You giggled as you buried your fingers in the scruff of his beard, leaving white streaks of flour over his cheeks.

Bucky’s mouth fell open in mock surprise, “Did you just get me all messy?”

“You did first!” you laughed.

Bucky leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I think Papa is a little too clean over there, what do you think?”

You grinned and clamored off Bucky’s lap, scurrying over to Steve, who was working on mixing frosting, “Can I help, Papa?”

“I heard that, Bucky,” Steve rolled his eyes. But still, you lifted your arms and shuffled closer. Steve sighed, “Come on then. Get up here.”

He hoisted you into his lap and let you stir the food coloring into the frosting while Bucky loaded the cookies into the oven. Steve watched you stir the frosting with a look of blissful exasperation; you were dusting him with flour, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

Once the cookies were baking, they wiped you off and you helped Steve clean up the living room while Bucky manned the kitchen. You helped Bucky frost the cookies as they were cooled and then you got another bath to get the remaining flour and frosting off you before delivering the cookies. 

First up was Thor and Loki. You knocked on the door, rocking on your heels while you waited. When Thor opened the door, you beamed, “Merry Christmas! We brought cookies!”

Thor accepted the tupperware, “Thank you very much, little one. Loki! Y/N has brought us cookies.”

Loki shuffled into the doorway behind Thor, muttering a thank you. Your brow furrowed, “Are you okay?”

Thor chuckled softly, “We are a bit grumpy today. Pay him no mind.”

You bit your lip, “I hope the cookies make you feel better!”

Steve squeezed your shoulder, “I’m sure they will, sweetheart. You ready to give Natasha and Wanda theirs?” You nodded, waving goodbye to Thor and Loki before trotting after Steve down the hall.

When Natasha opened the door to their apartment, she smiled, “Merry Christmas, you guys.”

“Merry Christmas, Nat,” Steve replied.

You still felt guilty whenever you went to Nat’s, remembering when you’d run away. “We brought you cookies,” you offered, holding out the dish.

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you so much,” Natasha trilled. “Wanda, do you want to come say ‘hi’?”

Wanda’s head poked up from the couch and she hurried over, her game clutched in her hand, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Wanda!”

She held up her game, “Do you wanna play with me when you get home?”

You looked to Steve, “Can I, Papa?”

He stifled a sigh and Natasha snickered, “For a little bit.”

You beamed, “Okay, let’s go see Petey!” You were in a hurry now.

Wanda nodded her approval and Nat clapped Steve on the shoulder, “I’ll text you Wanda’s friend code.”

“Her what?”

“I’ll explain it later.”

Finally was Peter. Tony opened the door, with Peter on his hip, “To what do we owe this patriotic pleasure?”

“We brought cookies!” You offered them up and Peter was quick to accept.

“What do we say, Pete?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Steve chuckled.

“I’m gonna play my game with Wanda when we get home. Do you wanna play too, Peter?”

“Can I, Daddy?” Peter turned his doe eyes on Tony.

“Sure thing, it’s Christmas, isn’t it?

Peter cheered, “Okay, I’m gonna go get ready!”

Tony released the now-wriggling Peter with a chuckle, “I guess that’s that. Thanks for the cookies, guys.”

“Merry Christmas,” you offered shyly.

Tony nodded, “Merry Christmas, squirt. Merry Christmas, Cap.”

“Merry Christmas, Tony.”

One more stop to Bruce, who seemed pleasantly surprised to have visitors today, and you were ready to go home. Once you were finished, Steve hoisted you up onto his hip, “You can play for an hour, okay? Because you were good and used your manners.”

“Okay! Thank you, Papa!” You hugged his neck and he gave you a little squeeze as you returned home. 

You played with Wanda and Peter while Steve and Bucky cleaned up the kitchen. Bucky had started dinner while you two were gone and the smell of honied ham was permeating the apartment. By the time your hour was up, it was time for dinner and before you knew it, the day was over. 

Dressed in clean pajamas, your teeth brushed, belly full, and paci in your mouth, you climbed into bed with Steve and Bucky. “Did you have a good Christmas, doll?” Bucky murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You nodded, already growing sleepy, your words sloppy around the paci, “The best Christmas, Daddy.”

Steve hummed, tracing circles on your back and pressing a kiss to your cheek before settling in, “We love you, sweetheart.”

You cuddled close, closing your eyes, “Love you guys too.”

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Aww I'm so happy I could serve up some Christmas fluff for ya! 😘😘

Ah yes, the "testy bitching" of Sam Winchester. Could in this instance we call it him being a scrooge? 😂

LOL yep in this instance, Sam's our resident scrooge. 😝

Imaging Dean's little embarrassed call of the reader's name in shame just had me giggling. He got caught red-handed like the Grinch by Cindy Lou Hou 😂 🎄

He really did! More than once, the little Grinch! 😂😂

Also the idea of Dean being really handy and DIY around the house in my opinion is so 😳. Idk I might be a little crazy, but there is something so sexy about watching a guy fix something or watching a guy cook something or do some little thing around the house that you meant to do but kept forgetting or even just watching a guy through binoculars as you stand outside his window LOL jk 🤣. No seriously though, I just think it's really hot when a guy knows how to do stuff around the house. And imagining Dean doing any of those things was just 😮‍💨

lmfaoooo girl YES. Absolutely (with binoculars. JK.)

Imagining domestic Dean and DIY Dean is a lovely daydream. 😮‍💨

Dang it Zep. Why you gotta do this to me??😭😭😂 And I LOVE the Scooby Doo ornaments.

Hahaa the teary fluff along with the fluffy fluff -- I just loved the visual of Dean insisting on Scooby Doo themed ornaments while Sam went for the traditional ones. 😆😆

This was such a funny thing to picture. Again, catching Dean doing something that he didn't want the reader to see and him having a comical almost cartoon-like reaction and falling on his ass. It's so good. And the "cheeky ending" was *chef's kiss*

Caught red-handed!! loll It really was cartoony, wasn't it? 🤣 Oh, Dean...

Girl again, this was so good! And the thought of falling asleep on the couch with Dean while watching Christmas Movies was literally just what I needed today. ❤️

Thank you SO very much, my friend! Along with DIY Dean, I love the idea of just chilling on the couch together, giving his head a little scratch, watching Home Alone and all the cozy Christmas movies. I'm so glad this could give you a little fluff to hopefully brighten your day, like your feedback did for me! 💕💕

'Twas the Night...

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean listens, sometimes when you least expect it. This year, Christmas begins to become something new for both of you.    

AN: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa gift for @eldritchlibertine! The idea is based on this request from @whichwitchwanda (a story prompted from the header image).

Word Count: 2.4K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and more fluff! Christmas feels. ❤️

A door burst open, and your eyes raised from the page. You nearly dropped your book into your lap when you saw it—the wide, bristled top of an evergreen tree trying to shove its way through the door of the bunker.

Or rather, it only seemed that way.

All the way up at the top of the rod iron staircase, grumbled cursing and muttering and arguing filtered down to you in the common room, where you were leaning back in your seat with an old copy of Wuthering Heights. You sat up, an incredulous smirk beginning to curve your lips.

“Dean, it’s not gonna fit.” That was Sam, obviously. You’d recognize his testy bitching anywhere.

“You kiddin’ me? All that work I spent sawing this thing outta the ground, I’m gonna damn well make it fit. Come on, put your big boy pants on.”

The equally familiar gruff, grousing tone of your man’s voice almost made you snort. You set down the book on the table and debated whether you were going to get up and try to help, or let them hash it out. You were surprised they hadn’t called out for you yet.

After a few more seconds of listening to their frustrated huffing and puffing, you shook your head and got up. You reached the top of the stairs, and their sounds of irritated, breathless struggle became even clearer.

“Dean,” Sam protested.

“Shut up. I’ve almost got it…”

“You’re gonna break the damn frame—”

“Something tells me you didn’t get this thing at Home Depot,” you remarked.

There was a pause, and Dean called your name questioningly. He also sounded a bit embarrassed.

“Yep, I’m here, Chevy Chase,” you said, laughing as you grabbed the branches that were stuck in the doorway. You bent them at the angle the guys needed to get the whole thing inside, and all too quickly you had to step out of the way as Sam and Dean broke through the doorway with the rest of the tree.

Sam caught himself on the wall, while Dean threw a hand out to grasp at the railing of the stairs. You grabbed Dean’s arm to help steady him. Once he had his feet planted, he slung an arm around your waist and looked down on you with a satisfied smile—one that he then aimed at Sam.

“See? Told you it would fit.”

“Where did you even get this thing?” you asked. You eyed Dean in curiosity, even as you were helping him stream the lights around this seven-foot monstrosity. You’d also taken great delight in putting on some holiday music. Now, Frank Sinatra’s “White Christmas” was playing from a Bluetooth speaker on the War Room table.

Dean shot you a distracted smile as he worked in concentration, bringing a string of lights around the part of the tree that was closest to the wall. He handed off the other end to you, and you wrapped the line of multicolored lights around.

“Eh, there’s a nice bit of forest a few miles out of town,” he said. Your brows raised high. You’d suspected, of course, but you still shook your head with a smile.  

“You know you need a permit for that, right?” you said.

“I tried to tell him,” said Sam. He was on his way up the stairs, heading out back to the car to get the box of ornaments he and Dean bought at Walmart this morning along with the pretty multicolored lights, all while you were still sleeping.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, but just kept focused on his task. Once he started something, he had to finish it, you noticed. And when he got into something, he was Mr. DIY, putting in his all. You liked watching the crunch between his brows, the set of his lips, the sureness of his hands while he mentally calculated what they were going to accomplish next.

Most of all, you liked the look of self-satisfaction when he was done, and happy with his finished product. It didn’t matter if he was tuning up the Impala, making a home-cooked meal for the three of you, or decorating a wild tree. That face was the same. 

“Illegally obtained tree aside,” you said, not bothering to temper your smile, “I thought you guys didn’t really celebrate Christmas. Or any holidays, for that matter.”

Dean gave you a small grin, though again, he seemed a little embarrassed. He freed one of his hands to scratch at the back of his head.

“Yeah, well…weren’t you the one who was talking about the Christmases you had growing up?” he said.

You blinked, your mouth gently falling open in surprise. That had been a couple weeks ago, when the first snow of December began to fall over Lebanon. Late that night, after settling into bed together, you’d turned towards him in his arms. Maybe it was the turn of the season making you nostalgic, but somehow the conversation drifted into you making a confession, about what you missed the most about your family.

Your parents had passed on, and your sister was distant. She had her own family and her own life, and she wanted to keep it far away from the things you hunted. You couldn’t blame her, even if the thought of her always pierced your heart.

Beyond than that, what you missed was the house where you grew up, small but cozy and lived in. You missed the smell of pine and cinnamon that filled the living room every day of December. You missed the nights you and your sister curled up by the fire late at night playing imaginary games, long after your parents’ had put you guys to bed. You missed your mother’s cooking, and helping her bake molasses cookies on Christmas Eve.

You missed togetherness, the feeling of warmth and safety.

You tilted your head at Dean.

“Yeah, but…” you trailed, not willing to finish the thought as another suspicion grew in your mind.

“Just thought we could do some of that this year for you, that’s all,” he said. And he shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. His hands were busy untangling some lights. “Matter of fact, we could all use the time off.”

You couldn’t help but pause. Your breathing shallowed, and no matter how much you fought it, tears stung in your eyes. You bit your lip to try and hold it all at bay. When Dean glanced up at you, he had to do a double take. It made you smile, despite your slightly blurring vision.

“Hey, what—”

You dropped your end of the lights and went to him. You raised up on your toes so you could wrap your arms around his neck in a warm hug. Dean uttered a surprised huff, but his arms came around your waist and gathered you closer. He soon realized he was still holding onto the tangle of lights, and he hung them on a nearby tree branch for now. His smile overtook his surprise and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I love you. You know that right?” Your voice was muffled in his neck, but he heard you well enough. He chuckled and slipped a soothing hand up and down your back.

“I do know, actually,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

A giggle escaped you. You tugged on his short hair in retaliation, making him chuckle.

“Hey,” he warned, but it had heat of a different kind. His hand began venturing down to your ass, but before he could do some retaliating of his own, a door swung open and Sam came down the stairs hefting a couple different boxes of ornaments.

He raised a brow, though he smiled at the way you and his brother were entwined. You half pulled away to nod at Sam, sniffling at quickly wiping at your face. Dean dried some of the wetness from the corner of your eye with a curled finger. You glanced up at him and couldn’t help blushing, smiling, despite your embarrassment.

Dean still had an arm wrapped around your waist as you peered over at the boxes Sam set down near the tree. One of them caught your attention and made your eyes widen.

“Oh my God. They’re Scooby Doo themed!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent decorating the tree with Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby echoing throughout the common room. After you made a trip to the grocery store, soon the smell of cinnamon, brown sugar and rich molasses joined the scent of pine throughout the entire bunker.

It was a Christmas Eve well spent. The night was filled with a rewatch marathon of Home Alone and Christmas Vacation. You agreed to Dean throwing in Elf into the mix, as long as you got to watch Love Actually,and The Holiday with Jude Law. Dean complained more than Sam about your girly chick-flicks, but he became just as invested in Colin Firth pouring his heart out in mangled Portuguese to Aurelia as you were, if less teary-eyed.

When The Holiday came around though, he was half asleep as he laid sprawled across your lap and the couch. Your nails gently massaging his scalp nearly did him in, along with Sam’s heavy-ass pour of eggnog. It was tradition, at this point.

By the end of the movie marathon, you were the one snoozing from your corner of the couch, your hand still in Dean’s hair.

He carried you to bed that night, your eyelids heavy as you teetered back and forth between slumber and the waking world. At least you were already in your pajamas. All he had to do was tuck you under the sheets on your side of the bed, then slip in behind you afterwards.

His arm draped around your waist, and you curled towards him, half on instinct as you let out a deep breath. Dean smiled as you settled against his chest. Your soft snores soon greeted his ears. Only then did he let himself rest…

Just not for long.

You woke earlier than you planned to in the morning, mainly because your man pillow was no longer beside you. You reached out a hand and found Dean’s side of the bed empty and cold, the covers pulled back. With a frown, you opened bleary eyes and checked your phone. It was around the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m.

What the hell was Dean doing up at the crack of dawn?

Unless… You paused as your memory served you a grim reminder. Unless he’d had a rough night, kept up by memories and dreams he didn’t always want to talk to you about. It wouldn’t be the first time he came back to bed after a few hours with the heady smell of bourbon on him.

You got up with a sigh, rolling your neck as you did so. You just wanted to check on him. Maybe you could even persuade him to come back to bed.

You threw on a sweater over your pajamas and some fluffy slippers Sam bought you for your birthday—all to shield you from the bunker’s chilly air and ice-cold floors. You’d have to remind Dean to check on the heater.

You padded out of the bedroom and down the long hall…and became distracted by the Christmas tree in the common room. It really was beautiful all lit up. The lights softly flashed in green, red, purple, and gold. Traditional red and gold ornaments hung beside the Scooby Doo themed ones, with Fred and Daphne front and center, along with the rest of the gang scattered throughout.

And then you found Dean.

“Damn it…friggin’ piece of shit ribbon…” 

Dean’s muttering drew your attention to his hunched figure kneeling at the base of the tree. Your head tilted in wonder as your face broke out into a smile. What the hell is he doing? You tried to be light on your feet as you approached him from behind. Peering over his shoulder, you could almost see what he was trying do with some shiny red wrapping paper and a big golden bow.

Your heart swelled. Had he really gotten you and Sam something for Christmas too? He didn’t need to get you anything…

Dean’s hunter reflexes must’ve been tingling though, because suddenly he sat up straighter and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw you standing there in your pajamas, arms crossed over your robe.

He actually jolted, muttering a curse as he tried to cover up what he was doing.

“What’cha doin’, babe?” you asked. Your eyes gleamed with amusement.

Dean tried to get up, but his foot slipped on a stray ribbon. He careened back onto his ass and knocked into the tree. Not only did its branches poke into his face and arm, making him wince, but he managed to displace a couple of ornaments, sending them tumbling to the floor by his hand. He grunted and raised up onto his forearms. For the pièce de résistance, that lovely golden bow landed right in his lap.

With raised brows, you took in the sight of your man—all bedraggled and looking sheepish (and adorable) as hell. Your hand went up to cover your mouth, but you were unable to quiet the giggle that bubbled up and escaped your lips.

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey.”

You glanced down at the bow, almost perfectly placed in his lap.

“Hey,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile.

You lowered down to kneel in front of him, and you took his face in your gentle hands before you leaned in for a sweet, sensuous kiss. Dean breathed into it. Your eyes shut along with his as you savored the moment, and him.

When you parted, your smile remained as you fingered the shiny edge of the bow. Dean began to smirk as well, despite how warm his face had gotten. His big hands found their way to your hips, welcoming you when you took a comfortable seat over his thighs.

You whispered against his lips, “I already know which present I’m gonna unwrap first.” 

AN: Lol there we go, a cheeky ending for you! Let me know if you liked this! ❤️💚

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