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bumblebeesfromvenus · 5 months

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Burning Touch ♠︎

Bale!Bruce Wayne x reader

A/N: MORE BALE!BRUCE 🥳 I adore possessive Bruce, especially Christian's! So, have this treat for the weekend <3 Enjoy!

~Fi 🐝

Warnings: NSFW content. proceed with caution. cunnilingus, It's so filthy, and it's literally just Bruce eating pussy, he's a lil insecure in this one, and feral.

Word count: 3.2k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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The chilly November air of Gotham city nipped at your cheeks, turning them a rosy shade. The cold wind was blowing on your face, making a few tears burn in your eyes.

Gotham was its usual grey and gloomy self, but the low temperature made it bearable. This kind of weather wasn't unusual for this time of year, after all. Snowflakes would cascade from the heavy clouds soon, coating the dark city in a powdery blanket. The long-awaited holiday season had yet to come, but snow would always awake that cozy and warm feeling in your chest.

Your arm was hooked into Bruce's as you two walked through the moderately bustling streets of Gotham. The two of you had decided to take a walk, not a regular occasion, but when it did happen it was lovely. Bruce had never been one to go outside for fun, the fact that there always were paparazzi hiding somewhere didn't really contribute to his lacking enthusiasm.

He did it for you, to spend time with you. The way you were all cuddled up in your huge scarf and winter coat always coaxed a smile onto his face. Your excited smile as you went on about whatever came to mind perfectly extenuated your red cheeks, the unforgiving cold stinging on your delicate skin. Little did he know you had similar thoughts about him. His adoring eyes as he listened to your ever on going rambling, and his hair that sat so perfectly, even on a day like this. The long wool coat he wore made him look incredible handsome and put together.

Well, he always looked handsome and put together, but there was something so uniquely different about that damn coat.

You'd told a really bad joke, but he still laughed, his head thrown back as that wonderful symphony reached your ears. Occasionally, a stray strand of hair would fall into his face, but he'd just blow it away without a care in the world. The center of his universe was right in front of him. Why would he care about something as unimportant as that?

"We should head home. I'm about to turn into a popsicle." You laughed, it was airy, your breath forming a little cloud in the cold air.

"Well, Honey, you'd be a very, very delicious popsicle." Bruce smirked, turning his head towards you.

"Oh, stop, you!" You playfully hit his arm as a pout settled on your lips. You really hoped he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks through the redness the cold painted on your face. If he knew he could still fluster you after all this time together, he would use it against you as much as he could. And all of it would be for his amusement and his amusement alone. He'd tease you relentlessly, and maybe you enjoyed it just a little bit more than you should.

"I'm serious! I'm freezing my ass off." You huffed, a slight tremble to your tone from the cold. His arm unhooked itself from yours, and it trailed down your lowerback, all the way to your ass before giving it a squeeze.

"Still there, sweetheart, you don't need to worry." He looked like the cheshire cat with that huge grin on his face. You squealed at the unexpected touch and smacked his hand away. "Bruce Thomas Wayne!" You scolded, your brows scrunching together.

"I'm just keeping you warm, Honey." Bruce snaked his hand around your waist and pulled you against his side before pressing a kiss to your temple. You could feel his smirk against your hairline as he kissed you, and you had to admit it made you smile.

"You're lucky I love you." Grumbling quietly, you let him pull you into his embrace. You were cold, and he was warm. It was a no-brainer, really. Well, you also loved him dearly, which made his embrace twice as warm.

"I'm very lucky indeed." He said with a small smile, littering more kisses along your temple. You giggled as his action, pressing your face closer to his coat covered side. His heart felt full. It never had before, no matter how many new dates he took to galas or how many new cars and expensive watches he bought.

Not even Rachel had made him feel like this. Only you did, only you could. He would cherish you and the way you made his heart beat faster, the smile that would creep onto his face whenever you entered the room and a subtle heat rose to his face, until it all came crashing down. He swore it. He swore himself, and he swore you, and he'd do everything in his power to keep that promise.

You continued your path through the city, getting closer and closer to a much needed hot shower and a hot beverage of your choice. It would probably end up being Alfred's hot chocolate. You don't know what he puts in there, but god, it's good. You were just telling Bruce some gossip from this month's book club, which you attended with Alfred and Selena.

Although the latter of your friends was very hesitant and not at all fond of the idea, she enjoyed the time after discussing the books, which she'd never read anyway. You didn't see each other much, so catching up during a cozy afternoon was always a nice experience. Not to mention Alfred's cookies had your fellow book clubers, who were mostly middle-aged women, absolutely swooning.

"You won't believe which book Carol recommended we read next."

He raised an eyebrow glancing over at you. "And what book is that?"

"The fucking Bible." You replied, slightly shaking your head.

"The.. Bible? I doubt she could finish that in a month." He grinned, making you laugh. You went on about all the gossip about their grown-up children, who quit which job and others, which relationship. It was quite entertaining, actually. It was also the only reason Selena put up with the bookclub idea in the first place.

By this point, she was more excited to go than you and Alfred were. Bruce listened to all the stories that had been exchanged during this months meet. He would gently guide you around street lanterns and people as you were too captivated in your storytelling to notice.

He wondered sometimes, did he make your heart feel as full as you made his? He didn't want to doubt you, or your love, but he couldn't help the dark thoughts that would worm their way into his brain in the late evenings. He couldn't help the deep, dull ache of jealousy and insecurity that pounded in his heart when you would talk to other men. Bruce knew you would never break his trust and love like that, but it just felt so.. wrong. Wrong when you would smile at the barista at your favorite coffee shop and that idiot would smile back, or even worse, start small talk while he was right beside you.

At Galas and charity events, he'd hold you especially close. What if you found someone who was richer? Better looking? Someone who was more charming than he was? Bruce was an expert at hiding his feelings, so events were no different for him.

He'd laugh along and smile as you talked with some handsome billionaire, who was already undressing you with his gaze. He always felt uneasy around men like that. What if you left him? He was shocked at how insecure he really felt when it came to you, but he never had something like this before, something real.

Everyone always left him, what if you weren't any different? What if you would leave, just like everyone else had?

Bruce quickly caught sight of a tall, well built buisness man coming your way. He was on the phone, very entranced in the conversation, as were you. Before Bruce could pull you aside, you collided with the man, making you grunt has the air was knocked from your lungs. "I'm so sorry, Miss," he bent down to pick up his phone, which he had dropped at the impact, "are you alright?"

"I am, don't worry. It happens." You smiled with a little chuckle. The man, who was way too close to you for Bruce's liking, touched your arm and bid you a farewell with a very charming smile.

You went on your way, but Bruce was a little absent from that point. He tried catching everything you told him, but he couldn't stop thinking about how that guy had touched you. He had just touched you, who does he think he is? First, he's careless and bumps into you and then he touches you? He could feel a mix of emotions bubbling in his veins.

First, there was Rage. The hot, red anger of that fool putting his hands on you. Even if it was an objectively nice and innocent gesture, it made his blood boil. And then there was it again, that strange, fizzy feeling of insecurity. Would that small touch and exchange of words be enough for you to leave him? Was he good enough for you? Was he doing this right? He had no answers to any of these questions, and they were bouncing around in the inside of his head, pounding against his skull.

"Bruce, my love, are you alright?" You brows were pulled together in concern. You'd noticed that he was in his head, barely listening to what you were saying. He'd slightly stiffened and sped up his pace as well. "Hm?" He snapped his head towards you. It took him a second to process what you had asked.

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He forced a small smile, but you could see through that immediately. He'd forget that you were in a relationship sometimes, being completely vulnerable around each other. There was no way you'd fall for his little number. He cleared his throat. "Let's get home, shall we?" He hastily pulled you along, resulting in you stumbling behind him.

Once you were back at the Manor, you sighed in relief at the warmth that eveneloped you. You rubbed your hands together, hoping they'd warm up quickly. Bruce was still acting strange, a stoic expression and he hadn't said anything on the way back. You couldn't even get your shoes off before he was dragging you up the marble staircase, quickly finding the way to your shared bedroom.

"Honey? What's going on- mh!" You were interrupted by your lover turning around and smashing his lips to yours, probably to shut you up, cupping your cheeks in the process. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands again and reached the bedroom with a very confused and flustered you in tow.

Locking the door behind him, he was on you immediately. Groping and kneading at your body, although you were still in your full outside attire, pushing you back on the bed. His kiss was hungry and desperate, he was practically devouring you. You fell back onto the bed as Bruce crawled on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"What- what's gotten into you?" You managed to ask between kisses, your breathing already heavy. "Need you." Was all he responded, mumbling the words against your lips. His hands which had previously rested on your waist slid down to your hips, over your thighs and calves until he reached your boots which he quickly made work of, making them hit the floor with a thud.

Your coat was next, being thrown across the room, same with your scarf, which then joined your coat on he floor. Bruce sucked and nibbled on your jaw as he eagerly pushed your top over your head, exposing your bra. He groaned at the sight, the vibration making your lips tingle. It wasn't a rare occurrence to see him like this, but usually, you'd know what caused this behavior. But today, you were clueless.

Not that you weren't enjoying it. It was an absolute sight to see Bruce like this. How this well-mannered, calm, and patient man lost his self-control so quickly when it came to you managed to ruin your panties every single time. He placed one of his hands on your back, making you lean slightly forward before he expertly unhooked your bra with one hand. Your soft tits spilled from their confinement, and you moaned softly as the cool air of the room hit your skin.

Bruce trailed his kisses down your neck and over your chest, but they weren't as slow and precise as usual. They were sloppy and rushed, it was like he was trying to reach as much skin as fast as possible. A few gentle sucks to your hardened nipples had your breath catching in your throat, but before you could say or do anything in response he had already moved on, hooking his fingers in your skirt and tights, quickly pushing them down your hips.

He slid off the bed, sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around your plush thighs to pull you to the edge. "We have all the time in the world, no need to rush things," you breathed heavily, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

"No." He growled, already at work to bite and suck marks into the supple skin of your thighs. Your head fell back at the sensation and you groaned. He looked so fucking good on his knees. Bruce was almost feral, groaning and grunting as his mouth tasted more and more of your skin. Finally, he turned his attention to your soaked pussy.

He stroked over the wet spot on your panties, licking his lips when one of those sweet moans fell from you. Kissing your ruined underwear, he gently caressed your thighs, soothing the bruises he had left. The sound of fabric ripping made your head snap forward, looking at your lover with an alarmed expression. Bruce was in a different world. His pupils were dilated and his chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths as he looked at your glistening cunt. It dawned on you once the cold air it your sopping slit. He had ripped your panties off of you.

"Honey, those were new-" you were cut off, yet again, as he dove in, licking at your folds. A high pitched moan ripped from your throat and you were gripping the sheets so tight there'd surely be holes in them by dawn. Bruce hummed in delight at your taste, his arms tightly wrapped around your thighs whil his hands were splayed out on your tummy, keeping you still as he devoured you.

Goosebumps were rising on your soft skin. The room was cold and you laid bare, making the sensation of his warm mouth on your pussy overwhelming. The scratchy fabric of his wool coat rubbed against your calves, reminding you that he was still fully clothed. A dull ache of arousal shoot into your tummy at the thought of him being so eager to have you, taste you, that he didn't even have the patience to undress himself.

He laped at you, drinking in all you were giving him. The lewd, wet sounds echoed through the quiet room, accompanied by your beautiful moans. All of your nerve endings were on fire, his touch almost burning as he kneaded at your body.

"Oh, Fuck- Bruce, oh my God-!" You whined and moaned once he circled his tongue around your clit. Your blood was boiling, almost as if hot lava was flowing in your veins. He pulled away for air with a gentle kiss to your bundle of nerves. The sight made your cunt squeeze around nothing. His hair was messy, your slick was dripping down his chin, he was heaving, the breaths sitting heavy on his chest.

A light layer of sweat covered his forehead, from both the warmth of his winter clothes and the burning pleasure he got from fucking you with his tongue. His beautiful brown eyes were almost black, his pupils swallowing his irises whole as he looked up at you.

"You're mine, right?" He asked, with such vulnerability and softness that your brows furrowed. That question caught you off guard, frankly. "W-What?" Your mind was hazy, your otherworldly bliss having been ripped from under your nose.

"Tell me you're mine. Please, sweetheart." He continued slowly licking at your cunt again, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Tell me you're mine." This time, it was more a demand, a hard tone to his voice. His cold gaze pierced through you, but there was an underlying look of pleading, like he was begging you to assure him you were his with his eyes alone.

"Tell me." It was a desperate plea, the raw emotion was something you'd seen rarely. You didn't know what to think, the jump between emotions and his demeanor couldn't cut through the thick fog of pleasure hanging over your mind. In a rough manner, his hands settled on your thighs, prying them open.

His tongue was back on your clit with small licks and kisses before wrapping his lips around it and suckling. The sensation made pleasure shoot up your spine, your eyes widening and your mouth was slightly agape, breathy whimpers and moans left your lips while your back arched off the bed.

"Shit- Yes, yes I'm yours! Jus' yours.." it came off your lips as a drawl, a slurry of words as ecstasy gnawed its way into your brain. The grip he had on your thighs tightened, his nails digging into your delicate skin. A delicious feeling of the subtle pain seeping into the pleasure you were experiencing coaxed another string of moans from your lips.

"Good." He said it so lowly, it was unlike anything you'd ever heard come out of his mouth. It vibrated in his chest and throat, and in succession against your sensitive pussy as well. You were so close, the mere touch of a feather could tip you over the edge.

"B-Bruce.." You panted, his name was forced out of your throat as best as you could. Your hands were gripping at his hair by now, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer. He knew you were impossibly close, he hungered for you to fall apart on his tongue and only think of him. Bruce buried his face even deeper between your thighs, finally snapping that thin rope that was keeping you from earth shattering bliss.

You came with a cry of his name, your thighs quivering. Your breathing was fast and uneven and your mouth was dry. The movements of his tongue slowed and became gentler as he helped you through your high. He slowly kissed his way up your body before finally capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

"Did you get all of it out of your system now?" You laughed breathlessly while a small smirk settled on his lips.

"I'm not so sure, actually."

"Oh, give me a break!" You whined as he pulled you close to his chest with a chuckle. It was kind of odd, seeing as you were completely nude, and he looked like he was ready to go out.

"Are you okay? I wasn't too rough, was I?" He inquired gently, pressing kisses to your head.

"No, no, it was really good." You smiled, resting your head against him with a sigh. You were burning up, your skin shinning with sweat.

"At least I'm not cold anymore." You glanced up at him with a smirk and one of those signature Bruce Wayne grins crept onto his face.

"Told you I'd keep you warm, Baby."

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There's more of our favorite playboy to come very soon!~ 🐝

#bumblebeesfromvenus #bale!bruce x reader #bale!bruce wayne smut #bale!bruce wayne #bale!bruce wayne x reader #bale!batman x reader #the dark knigth rises #dark knight #the dark knight #christian bale #bruce wayne x reader

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 6 months

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Bucky isn't a fan of children roaming the streets in costumes and asking for candy. But it only takes one little boy to change his mind.

This is my Halloween contribution to the fandom and a shoutout to @jessybarnes, congrats on reaching 500 followers!

Word count: just over 1k

He had just gotten home. Bloodied and bruised. There hadn't been any time for him to change. In fact, he had barely stepped through his front door when his phone pinged with a notification from you.

Went to the store to grab more candy!

Bucky scowled. Halloween. He didn't have time to think about such mundane things as your favorite pagan holiday. Naturally, you felt otherwise and had taken the liberty of decorating his home for him.

It was lucky he lived in an apartment building. What was the likelihood that any kids would-

"Trick or Treat!" A chorus of voices accompanied a knock on the door.

His shoulders drooped in disappointment. Maybe he could ignore it?

"TRICK OR TREAT!" There was only one voice this time but louder than before.

Bucky was a patient man who knew multitudes of silence and stillness. He would be patient.

"Come on, Mister! I saw you go inside!" The voice of a little boy who was far less patient than he was.

A sigh escaped Bucky's lips. He was exhausted and didn't particularly want to deal with the emotional baggage that came with the way he expected a child would react to his appearance. He knew people still saw him as a monster, despite his pardon. He had no desire to see fear reflected in the eyes of innocence. But the pounding didn't stop.

He looked around wildly for something to give the expectant youth. His eyes finally landed on a bowl beside the door. There was one candy bar left inside.

Well, it was better than nothing. Bucky grabbed the bowl and wrenched open the door. An audible gasp stopped him in his tracks. He looked down to see an eight year old boy dressed as Captain America standing before him, mouth agape.

"Here kid, this is all I've got," he held out the candy bar to the frozen child.

Both Bucky and the boy stood facing each other for what felt like an eternity to Bucky. Neither of them moved and Bucky wondered if the boy's jaw could drop any further. His silence was making Bucky very uncomfortable.

"Look kid, just take this and go," he dropped the bar into the kid's pumpkin basket. As an afterthought he added, "you don't have to be scared."

"Are you an Avenger?" The boy whispered.

"Not exactly, kid."

"But you're friends with Captain America?"

Bucky was loath to answer this question, but he couldn't exactly deny that he and Sam were friends.

"I guess you can call us friends."

"Do you have superpowers?"

Bucky shrugged. He thought of superpowers belonging to heroes. He would never describe himself as one.

The kid smiled and continued talking despite Bucky’s nonverbal state. “My dad lives in Washington DC now.”

“That’s nice?” Bucky felt the need to respond to the wide eyes which hadn’t left his face since he opened the door.

“I went to visit him over the summer. He doesn’t live with me and my mom anymore.”

Bucky didn’t miss the glaze of sadness which washed over his face, and he didn’t like how it made him feel.

“Did you like it there?” he asked the boy.

“Yeah! He took me to the Smithsonian.”

Bucky finally understood what the boy was telling him.

“I read about you.”

“Oh.” Bucky’s face fell. The kid had read about the Winter Soldier and his past. “Look, I’m not-”

“You’re my favorite!” The kid was positively beaming up at him.

“F-favorite?” Bucky stuttered, utterly baffled by the response he was receiving. “Favorite what?”

“Howling Commando!” He bobbed up and down with excitement. “You’re Steve Roger’s best friend!”

“Yeah,” Bucky’s face softened and he replied softly, saddened by the thought of his oldest friend. He missed Steve. He looked down at the child before him, his bright eyes and blonde hair. “What’s your name, kid?”

"Steve," he smiled. "My mom named me after Captain America because he saved her life when she was pregnant with me. Dad tells me what happened as a bedtime story on my birthday." The light behind his eyes dimmed with his last words. "He missed it this year."

"I'm sorry, pal."

"Next time I see him, I'm going to tell him I met an Avenger!"

"I bet he will be real impressed!" Bucky smiled, choosing not to correct little Steve.

"When I grow up, I wanna be just like you!"

"I don't think you want that," Bucky answered wistfully.

"You don't think I can be a hero?" Little Steve's face fell.

"Of course you can!" Bucky inwardly cursed his use of language. He knelt down in front of the boy and laid a hand on his shoulder. "But you know my friend, Sam Wilson? Captain America?"

Little Steve nodded solemnly.

"He's the guy you want to grow up to be. Got that?"

"Yes sir, Mr Bucky."

"But if you ever tell him I said that, you'll never get candy here again. Understood?" Bucky said sternly, dropping his last candy bar into the kid's pumpkin basket.

"I'd better get going or I'll miss out on the good candy. No offense, but you gotta get something better than this."

"Working on it, pal," Bucky smiled as you turned the corner, arms laden with several bags. He unburdened you and emptied the contents of one bag into Little Steve's small hands.

He delighted in the sight of the boy's bright eyes and toothy grin. "Thanks!" he cried, backing away with his sugary horde.

"Don't eat it all at once!" Bucky called after him.

You stood to the side watching the way Bucky had spoken to the little boy, giving him a smug smile.

"What?" Bucky frowned.

"What was that about?" You pointed between Bucky and the spot where Little Steve had stood.

"Kids these days, no respect. We didn't have the luxury of being given this much sugar when I was a kid."

"Is that why you gave him half of what I just brought back?"

Bucky shrugged.

"Come on, let's go inside. The kids may think that blood is fake, but I know better!" You steered Bucky into the apartment. "And if you're good, you'll get a treat too!"

“Did I mention that dress looks incredible on you?" Bucky smirked, eyeing your rockabilly cap sleeve dress with its sweetheart neck and flared skirt. True to the Halloween spirit, it was covered in a pumpkin and ghost design.

You put your arms around his neck. “There will definitely be treats tonight,” you purred into his ear.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #jessybarnesreaches500

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bradshawsbaby · 4 months

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What Christmas Means to Me, My Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

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

Word Count: 10.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody deserved it more than you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t disappointed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You all laughed happily at that.

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

“Santa! Santa!” she cheered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was always there to catch you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt like a little Christmas paradise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better than at our wedding?” you joked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had never seen him move so fast.

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

But that wasn’t what made it so special.

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

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

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

#a lew magoo christmas #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman

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the-boy-meets-evil · 2 months

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today of all days | vernon

(the lull of the new year never really comes for you, which is fine. it's better to be busy. this year, you're a little too busy planning something else to worry much about valentine's day. It's never been your favorite holiday anyway. but, could your boyfriend have forgotten in entirely?)

pairing: vernon x afab!reader genre: est. relationship, non-idol!au | smut, slight angst, fluff rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~4.6k warnings: mentions of food, there's a little angst, but it's mostly miscommunication, kissing, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, marking, unprotected sex (don't do this without talking about it), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, i think that's it

a/n: happy valentine's day to the always wonderful, absolutely amazing @wonwussy 💕 it's been so much fun to get to write this for you. i hope you enjoy it! this is part of @svthub's cupid for you valentine's exchange organized by my bby @wongyuseokie (who is very amazing and also made the banner & divider). happy valentine's (and carat day)!

There’s usually kind of a lull at the beginning of the new year. Like everyone decides that after the holidays, you’re due for a break. People try to work on their resolutions, businesses expect to see the drop off in their sales. Everything just feels more peaceful. It’s that calm before the storm when everything picks up again.

Not for you, though. At least not this year. February brings Valentine’s Day and your boyfriend’s birthday. You don’t really care that much about the former. It’s nice to have someone to celebrate with, and you’re sure the two of you will do something, but it’s nothing crazy. As long as you have him and a quiet night in, you’re good. It’s the latter of the two things that’s keeping an otherwise peaceful time from being peaceful.

Here’s the thing. Vernon isn’t one to make a big deal of his birthday, never has been. He feels similar to the way you feel about Valentine’s Day. He likes to do something to mark the passing of time, definitely enjoys the presents, but doesn’t feel the need for it to be some huge thing. It’s a little difficult, too, because he’s got another friend with the same birthday. For the years that they’ve been friends, they’ve always tried to work it around each other. Seokmin is a year older and feels a little more strongly about birthdays as something that should be celebrated. Somehow, that led to this year. A coordinated birthday for the two of them with all their friends there to celebrate the both of them. Two different cakes, two different contributions to the menu, and twice as many people to coordinate with.

To say it’s been a bit of a headache is an understatement.

You love Vernon. He’s been your person for over two years and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. You also love to plan things for other people as a way to show them how much you care. This has just been a bigger undertaking than you imagined. Especially when you have to keep the party under wraps. Vernon knows you’re doing something with a group of friends. He thinks it’s only a small group. But, he’ll appreciate it all the same. Just like he seems to appreciate everything that you do.

“Babe,” Vernon calls from the living room. He’s in the middle of gaming with Wonwoo, connected by their headsets.

“Yeah?” you answer.

“Wonwoo says that I’m gonna get in trouble for not planning some big thing for Valentine’s,” Vernon tells you.

You can hear the protests from Vernon even through the headset, which makes you chuckle. “As long as we get to cook something together and have a night in, I’m good.”

“See?” Vernon says triumphantly. There’s a pause where Wonwoo must be asking something. “Oh, yeah, I’m definitely getting a gift.”

“What?” you ask with clear surprise. Gifts were not part of the plan for this year.

“It’s nothing big, but I’ve got the perfect idea,” Vernon says with a familiar look of mischief.

“Oh no, no you are not,” you counter. He bursts out in a cackle. “Vernon, you are not getting strawberry flavored condoms for Valentine’s Day. We don’t even use condoms.”

The laugh through Vernon’s headset is just as loud. You would probably be embarrassed if it was anyone else, but Wonwoo has been in both of your lives long enough that most barriers have been erased.

“No, don’t worry, that wasn’t actually it. I have a plan,” Vernon says and you watch him suspiciously. “Promise!”

You decide to let it lie for the time being. At least partly, because you don’t want to keep standing there while he’s playing video games. Partly because you knew it meant he would be distracted enough that you could sneak off to the bedroom to make a call about the party.

Jeonghan had not been your first choice for a party planning committee because sometimes it’s hard to get an actual thought out of him. You’re not always sure what he’s thinking. But, he’s Seokmin’s best friend and one of the best schemers you know. Thankfully, these days he really only uses his talents for good. Well, it would be thankfully if you didn’t harbor a grudge over a prank he played when you first met.

Miraculously, Jeonghan is also free and willing to do some final planning. It’s that stage where the final group of friends get clued in. Some friends, who shall remain nameless, had to find out much closer to the day. They just couldn’t be trusted to keep the secret. You’re actually impressed that you’ve managed to keep it from Vernon and Seokmin. You confirm that Vernon doesn’t know. He would have absolutely told you. Jeonghan also confirms that Seokmin doesn’t know because he can’t keep a secret either.

When you wander back out into the living room, Vernon is still very engrossed in his game. You kiss the top of his head, watch the small smile with his eyes trained on the screen, and plop down at the other end of the couch. You prop your computer on your lap and reach for your headphones when Vernon turns to you between matches.

“Wanna order in for dinner?” he asks and you smile.

“Oh from that place around the corner?” you suggest. Vernon rolls his eyes without any real annoyance. It’s your favorite place.

“Whatever you want, babe,” he says and turns back to the game.

It’s easy, not only because you like it, but also since you know what he orders there. He’s kind of a creature of habit. Maybe you are too, since you always want to order from the same place. It’ll give you a chance to watch a few things while waiting as well as giving Vernon the chance to keep playing with Wonwoo. The gaming is always seamless for them after years of working together.

When the food arrives, Vernon finishes his last game so that he can eat with you. It’s one of the things you love about him. He’s so thoughtful with things like that. When you first moved in with him, you were a little worried. You had never lived with a partner and weren’t sure how to navigate it. As it turns out, with the right person, it’s pretty easy. You leave each other to do your own things and then come together after.

“You’re sure you’re okay with a quiet Valentine’s Day?” he asks when you curl into him after dinner.

“It’s a little late if I’m not considering it’s in two days,” you say with a light laugh.

“I’m being serious,” he says.

“I’m good, Vernon. I’ve got you and we’re going to make something together,” you say.

“I promise not to burn down the kitchen,” he assures you.

“You’ve been getting a lot better,” you say. “Plus, we also have dinner this weekend for your birthday.”

“We don’t really have to do anything crazy for my birthday, you know. It’s so close to Valentine’s Day and…” Vernon trails off before you press a kiss to his lips.

“I love to celebrate your birthday. It’s another year of you and everyone should be thankful for that,” you say.

Valentine’s morning comes bright and early. Sun streams through the cracks in your shades. Not quite enough to wake you up, but enough for you to know that it’s morning. You smile and stretch out, thinking it’s probably earlier than you need to be up. As you’re considering waking Vernon up to celebrate the day when you register an emptiness.

You’re the only one in the bed.

You open your eyes and confirm what you already knew. Vernon isn’t in bed with you. The door to the bathroom is open and the light is off, so he’s not in there either. Although you prefer to lay in bed to wake up, curiosity gets the better of you and propels you out of bed to the living room. The entire apartment is quiet, still. Well, still apart from your cat that’s weaving between your legs. He doesn’t seem hungry, so you think he’s just wondering what you’re doing. It’s odd that he would have left the apartment so early in the morning.

Padding back to the bedroom, you find your phone on the nightstand, plugged in like it always is. When you unlock it, you have a myriad of messages and notifications. Conspicuously absent, though, is a message from your boyfriend. There’s nothing to tell you where he is or went or could be. Which is odd, yes, but mostly it just makes you a little irritated. Sure, you don’t ever want to make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. It’s plenty to spend the day with someone you love that loves you back.

Vernon can be a little spacy at times. It’s not his best quality, but it’s also impossibly endearing. Maybe it’s because you know how much he’s thinking about when he’s got that look like he’s never had a thought in his life. It also makes him really chill, which matches you well. He doesn’t always have to be going or doing something. But, he’ll just as happily go out and be your shield because he’s much more of a people person than you are.

All this to say, there’s part of you that wonders if the holiday just slipped his mind. It’s not like it’s a big deal, you said as much to him. But, you still expect something. Even if it’s just to know where he is so early in the morning. You hate that you wonder if he forgot because you trust Vernon with your life. He can get distracted sometimes. One time, he got so caught up in a project that he entirely forgot dinner plans with his friends.

The mature thing to do would be to send him a text and ask where he is or even to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day. You’re not feeling especially mature, though. And you feel very justified in that annoyance because he’s the one that left early. He should be the one to let you know where he is. It should not be on you.

Trying to push the thoughts of Vernon out of your mind, you get ready for the day. Opt to leave earlier so you can buy yourself something to eat and some coffee on the way. By the time you reach work, you’re even more irritated rather than calmer. Every radio station was playing love songs that fit the genre. Every host seems to want to know what people’s plans are for the day. The coffee shop by your office was decorated in red, white, and pink hearts with all sorts of specials for the day. When you head into the office, it only gets worse. People have flowers on their desks, are exchanging happy wishes, talking about how they can’t wait to get out of work for their plans. Some people are spending it with partners, others are spending it with friends. Either way, everyone seems to have plans that are better than whatever will be waiting when you get home. Why did Vernon have to pick today of all days to be forgetful?

Your work best friend stops by your desk with the typical cup of coffee mid morning and stops in his tracks when he senses your mood.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Minho asks.

“Wow, hello to you too,” you respond when you take the coffee from him.

“You seem like you’re in a bad mood,” he says.

“Maybe I am,” you answer.

“But, it’s Valentine’s Day and you have, like, the most perfect boyfriend. What’s there to be mad about?” he asks.

“Can’t be the most perfect boyfriend if he was gone before I woke up and didn’t even text me to say anything,” you say with all the irritation you feel.

That catches Minho’s attention. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I woke up and the bed was empty. No note. No text. Just empty,” you say.

“And you haven’t heard from him?” Minho presses.

“No,” you say, only to be distracted by your phone lighting up.

“Looks like a message from him,” he observes.

You quickly glance at your phone, hating how eager you feel just to hear something from him. It’s disappointing, though.

Vernon: sorry that i wasn’t there when you woke up, i had a last minute errand Vernon: when do you think you’ll be home from work?

Instead of telling Minho what happened, you just hand your phone over to him. His grimace says all you need to know. It’s not an overreaction.

“That’s…all he’s said to you today?” he asks.

“You can scroll to see,” you say because he still has your phone.

“No thanks,” Minho says with a laugh. “I don’t wanna accidentally see something.”

“It was one time,” you say, snatching your phone back with an eye roll.

“And I’m still scarred,” he says. “What are you going to say back?”

“Nothing,” you say.

“But…” he starts.

“No, I’m not saying anything. I know I’m chill about this holiday, but to not even say anything? And what errand does he have to do at 7 in the morning?” you ask, more irritated that you had been.

“If you want to hold onto a grudge, who am I to stop you?” he asks when he stands. “Let me know if he manages to get out of the dog house.”

With that comment, he’s off to his own desk. It usually goes something like this every day anyway. Minho shows up with coffee for you, looking to see what you have to say. Even though he’s the one that has the best gossip. Sometimes, he just wants someone to share it with. It’s a nice reprieve from your irritation. One that he repeats in the afternoon, which is a break from the norm. Unfortunately, the irritation that settles in his wake is worse than before he stops by.

You consider staying at work late when the end of the day comes. It’s not like you’re in a rush to head home. There’s also a part of you that wants to punish Vernon for forgetting a holiday that you don’t even care that much about. (Okay, maybe you care, but that’s the whole point of having someone you love that also loves you to spend it with.) Staying late by yourself feels even worse when nobody else from the office is. Everyone seems to be out the door as soon as the day ends. And, despite not answering any of Vernon’s messages, you know he’s home. At least it’ll give you the chance to figure out how to approach this.

The drive home gives you a chance to run through all sorts of conversations in your head. You’re still stewing, a bit, because you’re upset at how the day went. But, you’re also preparing yourself to have a potentially difficult conversation with Vernon. Of course, he’ll be receptive to your feelings. He always is. It’s more that you’re frustrated it happened in the first place and don’t want your feelings to seem invalid.

All of that goes out the window the second you step into your apartment. The lights are low, so it takes your eyes a second to adjust. When they do, however, you see that Vernon has transformed your living room into a scene from your favorite video game. It’s like stepping into another world. Every little detail is so carefully thought out that you can’t even appreciate it all in one look. Your feet carry you forward to examine the small things. The ones that very obviously took extra effort. You’re so busy appreciating it all that you don’t even notice Vernon coming in from the kitchen.

“I know we said no presents, but I wanted to do this anyway. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, pulling you out of your head.

“How did you…” you ask, unable to even finish the question.

“I found someone who had this whole set for their ex and wanted to get rid of it. He was practically giving it away, but I had to go pick it up like 2 hours away,” he says.

You look around and can tell the level of care that went into creating this. “That’s why you were gone when I woke up?”

“Yeah, I left you notes on breakfast in the fridge and coffee in the microwave, but I guess you didn’t see those,” he says.

“I’m so sorry,” you say and don’t even realize that tears started to fall until Vernon’s pulling you into his arms.

“It’s fine, what are you sorry for?” he asks, holding you tightly.

“I spent the whole day thinking you forgot Valentine’s Day and being mad. That’s why I didn’t answer your texts,” you say.

“I just figured it was a busy day and you were excited to get home,” Vernon says.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat.

He pulls back so that he can look down at you. Wipes the tears gently away from under your eyes. “It’s fine, babe. I’m not upset at you when I can be forgetful.”

Nobody has ever done something like this for you. You can’t imagine how long it took to transform the living room this way. There aren’t any words you can think of to express how much it all means to you, so you just press your lips against his. Throw your hands around his neck to keep him close to you. He’s surprised, at least for a second, before he pulls you in tighter against him and kisses you back. It’s not the time to talk, at least not right now. How could you have thought this man would ever forget?

“Can I show you what I was thinking about before I realized you were already gone this morning?” you ask when you break the kiss.

“Should I be concerned?” he asks.

“Just trust me,” you say and pull him into the bedroom with you.

Any hesitations that he may have had disappear when you resume kissing him. Your fingers nimbly undo his pants so that you can slide them down his legs. The clothes come flying off in a flurry from there, far quicker than usual for the two of you. There’s just an urgency given the way the day went. Neither of you seems to want to let your lips leave the other. As Vernon kisses down your neck, you take the opportunity to push him back onto the bed.

It’s the first time you take a second and you appreciate how beautiful he is laying on the bed. The lean lines of his muscle, his eyes hungry as they drink your body in, the way his cock rests heavily on his stomach. You need to do something, though. You nudge his legs apart as you settle yourself onto the bed between them.

“You don’t have to…” he starts and you’re quick to cut him off.

“I want to,” you insist.

And you do. You take his cock into your hand and lick a stripe up it. It’s not enough, though, so you spit into your hand so you can run it along his length. He shudders under your touch. Once you wrap your lips around his tip, you pull a groan out of him. For just a second, his eyes close and his head lolls back on the pillow. It’s so pretty to watch him from this angle. To know that this man, usually so relaxed and chill, is so wound up under your power. It’s not long before he’s watching you, though. Letting out a stream of praise for how good you look with his cock in your mouth. How it turns him on, how you know just how to use your tongue. You hollow out your cheeks and it’s more than he can take.

Vernon pulls you up so that he can kiss you, so hard that you lose your breath. You’re a little off balance, which makes it easier for him to flip your positions. Now he’s the one between your legs. That same fervor is back when he spreads your lips so he can lick up your entrance. He’s always been insanely good with his mouth. It’s actually unfair. When his thumb circles your clit, you see stars for a second and arch your back into his mouth. All you can do is watch as he works his tongue in and out of your cunt. The thumb on your clit is bordering on too much sensation. Makes it hard for you to watch him even though you love the sight of him between your legs.

“Fuck, Vernon, I need more,” you whine.

“I should make you draw it out,” he says, still so close to your pussy that you can feel his breath.

“Please, Vernon, please,” you beg. You know it’ll make him cave.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he answers.

He runs his fingers through your folds before sliding one into your pussy. The moment his mouth finds your clit, he inserts a second finger and pumps into you at a punishing pace. It’s everything you can do not to squirm under his efforts. As it is, the words coming out of your mouth are entirely incoherent. What you want to say is that he’s a god with both his mouth and his fingers. That he knows just how to fit you where you need him most. That nobody has ever felt as good as him.

What you manage to yell out: “Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna come.”

Vernon hums against your clit and it’s all too much. Your release is nearly instant. You don’t even notice how he guides you through your high or that he doesn’t remove his fingers until your body stops shaking. Miss the way he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before kissing you. Not that you would mind. His lips wander down your neck to your chest, kissing all the way. He loves your breasts, loves the soft skin there. Loves to nip and watch the way you react. Most of all, he loves to leave marks there. Even if you won’t let him mark you where other people can see (at least, not often), you’ll always let him mark up your chest. He roughly sucks a mark into your sensitive skin and you squirm.

Any other time, you would let him enjoy it. Let him take his time. Not today. You need to feel him. Need to have that connection with him. He seems to realize it too.

“Roll over on your side,” he directs.

You hasten to do exactly what he asks. He slides right in behind you and you bring your leg forward a little so that it’ll be easier on him. One of his arms slides under your neck. The other lines his cock up at your entrance. He presses lightly, at least at first, giving you time before he’s fully inside you. No matter how many times you and Vernon fuck, you’ll never be fully prepared for the way he feels. It’s the most perfect type of full. Just enough of a stretch without it being overwhelming.

It’s only a second before he starts moving, with his hand on your stomach. Not too fast. Just enough to give you the relief that you need. Not enough that it’s going to push you over the edge again. You’re still sensitive, though. The connectedness of your bodies is exactly what you need. It’s intimate in all the ways that you couldn’t tell him that you needed. But, he knows. Of course, he knows. This man knows you better than anyone else, a fact clear in how he thrusts into you.

Vernon’s free hand moves from your stomach up to your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and you groan out. That’s the other best part about your relationship with Vernon. There isn’t a need for constant communication during sex. He knows what you like and you know what he likes. He knows how to interrupt your moans and your pleas. Knows when to pick up the pace.

It’s entirely too soon when you feel your second orgasm coming on. “I’m close, oh my god.”

“I know, baby, just come for me,” Vernon urges as he continues to thrust hard into you.

Despite that, you try to hold out because you know that he’s not there yet, can feel it in the way he fucks into you. It’s a losing battle, though, and you end up coming even harder than the first time. Vernon fucks through your high before slowing down to give you a minute to breath. Always so considerate of what you need.

“It’s okay, keep going,” you urge.

He doesn’t have to ask if you’re sure, he can feel it in the way you clench around him. Makes him groan as he moves again. You’re still a little out of it from the two orgasms, so it doesn’t register just how sensitive you are. You tilt your head so that you can kiss him. Catch all his groans with your lips. Partly since you know how much the intimacy of it all means to him. Know that it’ll send him over the edge.

A minute later it does just that. Even though you feel spent, he manages to pull a third orgasm out of you with his own. There’s a moment when you’re both catching your breath that neither of you move or even say anything. It gives you a moment to remember just how much you love him. Vernon slides out of you carefully and you roll over so that you can face him.

“I love you,” he says with a soft smile, fingers gently moving a few strands of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you say.

“Do we have to get up right now?” he asks.

You shake your head and let him pull you into his body. His arms feel strong and safe around you. Like home, which is what he’s always been for you. From entirely too early into the relationship. A feeling that’s only grown in the time you’ve been together.

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

“You don’t need to be, “ Vernon assures you. “I’m forgetful sometimes and you’ve been busy lately. I figured this was a good way to say thank you for everything you do.”

“What? The sex?” you joke.

He huffs into your hair. “I take it all back.”

You pull back to look at him. “It was perfect. Almost as perfect as you.”

A light blush creeps up. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” you whisper into his skin when you cuddle back against his chest.

“We still have to cook dinner,” he says.

“Let’s just order something. I don’t want to move from this spot right now,” you say.

“We can stay as long as you want,” he says.

Forever, you think. That’s how long you want to stay with him. It’s never felt more real than it does right now. You think, by the way he holds you, that maybe he wants to be with you forever too. It may have gotten out to a rocky start, but it ends up being the most perfect Valentine’s Day of your life.

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spnexploration · 4 months

Text

A Christmas Case

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Dean drags you out of bed to go to a case, ruining your Christmas plans. But does he have a plan to make up for it?

Words: 1.1k

This is my submission for @spnfanficpond Secret Santa 2023 (ignore the fact it was posted in Jan 2024...) and is a gift for @apocalypseornaw ❤ Sorry for the delay!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Come on, we’ve got a case,” Dean said, shaking you awake.

“Fu’ offfff,” you grumbled at him. “You’re not allowed in my room.” What you’d really like was Dean to stay in your room permanently, maybe some ravishing… But that was never going to happen.

He chuckled, “Just channel that energy to the monster. We leave in twenty.”

---

You sulked in the backseat. It was December 23rd, why the hell were you off on a case? You’d put in a little bit of effort at the bunker, getting a tree and some dollar shop baubles. That was all for naught, now.

Dean caught sight of you in the rear-view mirror. “What’s up with you, princess? We interrupt your beauty sleep?” You didn’t appreciate his teasing.

“I don’t see why monsters couldn’t give us the bloody holidays off.”

“It’s just another day in our line of work, don’t know why you got your hopes up.”

You glared at him. “Yes, how could I, when known Scrooge, Dean Winchester, was going to be trawling for cases at 6am on Christmas Eve Eve.” It was his own damn fault he wouldn’t be getting the present you’d spent a lot of time choosing for him.

“Hey! I didn’t even find it!”

You turned your glare to Sam, “Got anything to say, Second Scrooge Winchester?”

“I just have some google alerts set up, sorry.”

You crossed your arms.

“You might have been expecting a bit too much from a Christmas at the Bunker anyway,” Dean said in a tone of voice as if he was trying to make you feel better. “We’re not very good at Christmases.”

You rolled your eyes and looked out the window. The boys decided to let you be.

---

You decided to keep a tally of how many people said something about the FBI making you work so close to Christmas: you were already up to 4 and it was only mid-afternoon on the first day. Happily the drive hadn’t been too long from the bunker to the crappy town where the case was, so you’d been able to get started straight away.

There was a giant Christmas tree in the main street of town. You felt like it was mocking you.

You dragged your feet as you followed the boys into the library, conveniently still open. You wondered if Dean even realised everything was going to be closed on Christmas Day. Serve him right if he couldn’t get pie that day.

You half-heartedly trawled some books, not really contributing to the research effort.

“Sorry,” Sam said quietly as he came to sit by you. “I didn’t mean to ruin your holidays.”

“It’s alright,” you said, not really feeling it but not wanting to sound petty, either.

“I can tell you’re upset. Hell, even Dean can tell you’re upset.”

“You know, Dean’s better at reading people than people give him credit for,” you said, always quick to defend inappropriate criticism of Dean.

“Ok, you’re right, that was a low blow. But you’re still upset, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, solve the case fast enough and maybe we can do Christmas on Boxing Day at least.”

He gave your arm a friendly squeeze before standing up again and heading back to the shelves.

“I think I found it!” Dean called from somewhere. You stood to go find him.

---

It turned out to be a very quick case, over by late evening Christmas Eve. It was late enough that ordinarily you’d all head back to the motel room and go home early the next morning, but Dean suggested something different. “How about we head back to the bunker tonight, I’ll drive.”

“It’s pretty late,” Sam said, nursing a couple of injuries.

“You can sleep in the backseat until we get there. Won’t it be better to get to sleep in your own bed?”

“If you’re doing this for me, you don’t have to,” you said. “It’s fine, it’s just a stupid day. You don’t have to kill yourself driving late at night just for me.”

“No, come on, it’ll be nice to be back home.” He gave you that beautiful smile and you couldn’t help but melt.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Sam mumbled agreement and so you all piled into the Impala, Sam stretched out on the backseat. He was asleep almost instantly, and you weren’t too far behind.

---

“Hey, hey,” you woke to Dean whispering your name and gently shaking your shoulder. “Wake up.”

You looked around blearily, this wasn’t the bunker. It looked like the middle of nowhere. You started to ask Dean, but he held up his hand.

“Shh, don’t wake Sam,” he said, still whispering. “Come out of the car for a sec, I’ll explain it all.”

You looked at him quizzically but followed, closing the door as quietly as you could behind yourself. Dean took your hand and pulled you around to the front of the car. Your heart was racing; this was different…

“I’m sorry Sam and I ruined the Christmas you had planned,” he said, standing very close to you. You looked up into his stunningly gorgeous face wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but knowing that he saw you like a little sister. “But I thought we could look for Santa delivering presents,” he said, gesturing to the huge expanse of the night sky you could see.

You laughed, “What am I, 7?”

“Well, ok, it doesn’t have to be Santa. But it’s a nice night for stargazing, and I wanted to make it up to you.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over your cheek. This was definitely new. You nodded in agreement and he took your hand again, pulling you up on to the top of the bonnet.

He scooted very close to you. You could feel his body heat, which was good in the freezing night air. You felt a wave of goosebumps break out over your skin, but you weren’t entirely sure if they were because of the cold or the proximity of Dean.

He reached behind him and grabbed a blanket you hadn’t seen was there, then put his arms around you and draped it across your shoulders. He was so close, so beautifully close. And yet, always so far.

He didn’t put his arms back down, like you were expecting.

He put a hand on your shoulder. What was he doing? He put his other hand on your cheek. So warm, so close. So... intimate.

You looked up into his big, green eyes.

He leaned in close.

Oh. Oh! This was happening!

His soft, Adonis-like lips were suddenly on yours. You closed your eyes and leant into the moment.

He pulled away, “Merry Christmas. Hope this makes up for having to be on the road.”

“Oh, this definitely makes up for it,” you said before capturing his lips again.

The stars looked down from above, forgotten.

Dean Winchester tag list:

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@lyarr24

@waynes-multiverse

@deans-spinster-witch

@zepskies

Everything Supernatural tag list:

@leigh70

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@ellie-andthemachine

@iprobablyshipit91

@123passwort

@kazsrm67

@nerdymuffinbonkcloud

@magssteenkamp

Spnfanficpond Dean Winchester x reader fluff tag list:

@babypieandwhiskey

@bkwrm523

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #pining #spn christmas #spnfanficpond #spnfanficpond secret santa 2023 #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 26 days

Note

AITA for refusing to use Facebook Messenger?

For most of my life I havent really been into using social media. I've never really liked the culture around it and when I was a teenager it contributed to my depression. As I got older I realized I didn't have to use it and phazed it out if my life except for the rare Facebook post of pictures from a event I went to like a concert. Thats more for me than anyone else so I don't lose the photos. My family has for some reason always been obsessed with Facebook. There's always a Facebook group for our family events and parties and everyone else mainly messages each other through Facebook Messenger. Once in high school my mom told me that if I didn't check Facebook once every three days I would be grounded (I was a super good kid that never got in trouble so this was a shocking threat). I've made it very clear to my family that I will not be using Facebook Messenger and that if they want to communicate with me they can text me (all of my family has perfectly functioning newish phones so there's no reason texting isn't a option). Thankfully for day to day chatting they respect this. However when it comes to any kind of family planning or event announcement those conversation are souly discussed on Facebook. I have been left out of conversations around holidays, fun group chats, and invitations to events because I don't know there's a Facebook group about them. I've always told them I will get on my computer and respond if I'm told there's a group happening but I usually find out months later when I happen to get on Facebook on my computer. I once almost missed a invitation to my own birthday party my mother was organizing because it was a event posted on Facebook. I've gotten into several arguments with my mother over this, her not understanding why I won't just download Facebook Messenger and me not understanding why it would be so much harder to have these conversations over text. At this point I want to feel right that my families obsession with Facebook is over the top and it's my right to avoid a social media platform I don't want to communicate through but I can't help but wonder if it's unreasonable of me to not just give in.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mangywayway · 4 months

Text

✨This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race ✨

So, it must be said that neither Steve nor Billy actually celebrated Christmas.

Despite being a believer, Billy had never celebrated Christmas with his old family, and he still couldn't let go and celebrate as he would like, even though several years have passed; Steve on the other hand, had stopped believing in whatever otherworldly creature rules the world since he was around 14 and had realized that he couldn't rely on anyone else but himself. So, no celebrations in the Harrington-Hargrove house.

But, BUT, despite everything, they continued to put up a small tree every year, also because more often than not the children (who weren't children anymore since they were now close to their twenties, which Steve refused to acknowledge because it meant that he was getting old) invaded their house to put it up and decorate their house, and then they had to admit that they both liked the lights and that they brought them comfort even after all those years (and the company was always welcome, despite the confusion it brought) and therefore they continued with this little tradition of theirs, just to celebrate the holidays together ✨

Soo, first of all, if you saw any typos or grammar mistakes, no you didn't (I'm joking, I'm joking).

Second, I really want to thanks the @harringrove-relay-race to let me participate, and I want to remind all of you that we are just at the beginning, so please get yourself ready and look forward to wonderful work from the next contributor, @kiraixi 💙✨✨

(adding this here, I knew the theme wasn't strictly holidays related but I couldn't resist and, btw, Happy Holidays to all of you guys!! Even if you don't celebrate at all I still hope you can spend a wonderful time!)

AND, because my brain is stupid and I couldn't find it again, to whoever created the post about Billy buying a lot of sharks related decorations, please know that I loved your idea so much that I needed to add some sharks in there just for that. Seriously, thank you so much ✨ (so all credits and kudos to you for that).

#art #fanart #harringrove relay race #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #btw yes I have a thing fro drawing Billy on Steve's lap #shame on me I suppose #mangywayway

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maple-seed · 4 months

Text

Thrown - Chapter 45: Absence

Summary: Loki takes a trip abroad and longs for what he left behind.

Word Count: 2,059

Author's Notes: Hey everyone. This chapter of Thrown will be the last one posted until January. Holidays are taking their toll and my writing speed has slowed considerably so I'm going to take a little hiatus. My current plan is to start posting again on January 11, 2024, and hopefully returning to the once-a-week schedule at that time. Thanks again for your patience. Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates, and take care.

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

Loki didn't care for it, the Avengers compound. It was all much too pristine. Clean lines and straight edges. Crisp white and chrome and glass. Sterile. It felt lifeless, when compared to the meandering streets and stone buildings back in New Asgard. Perhaps worst of all, it was full of Avengers.

The tower had been superior, Loki felt. At least the tower had a certain element of grandeur going for it. He kept this opinion to himself. Something told him that may be a sore point.

This trip had been mandatory. There were things to discuss regarding New Asgard, but chief among them was the fact of Loki's continued residency. They called it a "review of progress", but obviously it was a check in to make certain he hadn't been using his freedom to plot some sort of coup. The euphemism was laughable. Loki wouldn't deny that he had progressed, in many ways quite drastically, since he came to this realm, but in what way could these men hope to measure it?

Moreover, he found it insulting that they believed if he had been plotting a coup, that they any hope of detecting it.

There had been interviews and meetings and endless questions. Thor had, apparently, written very detailed reports regarding the goings-on of New Asgard, and particularly Loki's contributions. While the descriptions in the reports were true, Loki felt they portrayed his actions in an overly-generous light.

Throughout the assessments and interrogations, Loki hadn't mentioned you. There were a number of reasons, of course. They would not be likely to understand the way he cared for you, and even less likely to understand the way you cared for him. They would wonder how it was possible that someone like you might love him. He didn't have the energy to explain that he wondered the same thing. They would suspect he had bewitched or corrupted you somehow. Possibly, they might insult you for your folly, which was certainly not something he would be able to tolerate. More than any of that, however, describing you to them simply felt wrong. You were something more precious than this. This trip here was a direct result of the most terrible period of his life. A punctuation on his misery. Even drawing the concept of you into this mire felt like it would sully you somehow.

And so he refrained from mentioning the source of his most drastic changes while here on Midgard. Thor followed his lead, and only brought you up occasionally, and then he only described you as their friend. Loki was grateful.

The days dragged on. Any time he felt that surely he had answered every question of every authority, there was someone new with something else they had to ask, just to be sure. And still that was not the most unbearable part. The most unbearable part was being away from you. This absence made him question how he had ever gone so long without putting his hands on you. It was ridiculous, in the basest sense. He had gone much longer than this without seeing you. He had gone a thousand years without seeing you. He had ached for you for months while standing by your side, but somehow this ache was stronger.

Thor relayed messages by text, and even offered to facilitate a call, which Loki accepted only once. The walls here were listening, quite literally, and there was little he wanted to say to you that he was comfortable having recorded by Stark. Still, hearing your voice had buoyed his spirits and made the rest of this trip moderately more tolerable.

One night, Loki dreamed. He was aware of the dream immediately. He was on the mountain terrace that your hiking trail led to, standing by the stream. The moon was bright and the stars were out, as they had been this past winter when you had brought them here. You were there, standing near the edge, looking out over the landscape. He breathed your name. You looked back over your shoulder, a smile breaking immediately. "Loki." It was only his name, but it carried with it all the longing that he felt. The two of you met and embraced and it all seemed so real; the air, the sky, your skin. It was an illusion, yes, but it was true enough for now, and he held you in his arms for the rest of the night, if only in his dream.

This morning was to be their last here at the Compound. There was another meeting, supposedly the final one, where Loki would be interrogated. Thor insisted that "interrogated" was not the right word. Loki felt certain that it was the right word when he found himself sitting at a glass table in some conference room, his brother beside him, with Stark, Rogers, and Fury seated across. Stark and Rogers seemed to be amiable enough, but Fury kept a stone-faced expression. Loki realized he had never seen the man look anything other than angry, or at best mildly irritated. It could be that his face simply looked that way. Perhaps having just the one eye was naturally limiting in expression. He and Thor should exchange notes, he thought. He was not foolish enough to say it out loud.

"I gotta hand it to you, Billy Goat Gruff, you're earning all the gold stars here." Stark wore that insufferable smirk of his. "What he means to say," Rogers, ever the peacemaker, cut in, "is that we think you've been doing very well in your time in New Asgard." "I'm grateful that my existence meets your approval." Loki fought to keep his teeth from grinding. "Oh come on, don't be like that." Stark closed a folder in front of him with a flourish. "You know why we feel the way we do. Before you showed up here in your TARDIS, the last time we met you were blowing us up and tossing us off buildings. I mean, you cut out a man's eyeball for god's sake. Completely unnecessary move, I might add." Loki looked away with a scowl, fighting back violent memories. "And now," Stark continued, "now you're carrying groceries and building homes and teaching underprivileged kids magic algebra or whatever." He leaned back in his chair. "I think it's understandable that we're impressed. You've worked so hard to overcome your natural tendencies." "Perhaps you've mistaken what my natural tendencies are." Loki muttered. "And we're willing to accept that." Rogers offered. "But you understand why we've had to take these measures." "Certainly." "That being said," he glanced at Stark and Fury, "I think we can agree that we can lighten up a bit. Less surveillance. Fewer reports. You've put in the work and you've earned a bit more trust." Loki was annoyed with himself for feeling appreciative of such a meager gesture. But he did, all the same. "Thank you."

Fury spoke for the first time. "I have a few questions first, before we loosen the leash on this would-be mass murder." Thor scowled at the title, but didn't respond otherwise. Loki nodded. "I am happy to oblige." Fury leaned forward and rested his hands on the table, lacing his fingers. "We've spoken at length about your past; the good and the bad. I want to talk about your future." "Of course." "What do you see in your future? Are you really content living in a small town on the coast of Norway? Ruling over nothing in particular? Do you truly think a prince, a god, like you won't get bored? Crave something more?"

Images passed through Loki's mind. The winding streets of New Asgard, the road that led to the mortal town, your farm nestled in the bend. He saw your studio, your kitchen, your face. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I can say with absolute certainty that everything I crave can be found in New Asgard. Even now, all I wish is to be there again."

Fury's eye bored into him, perhaps trying to judge if he was sincere. He seemed to find what he was looking for and leaned back in his seat.

It was silent for a moment, Stark cut his eyes from one person to the next and drummed his fingers on the table. "Okay, so we're done here? The wonder twins are free to go?"

If Loki had his way they would have made for the hangar directly from that conference room, but there were hours still to pass before departure. Thor had to pack, he had farewells to bid, and even had lunch with some of his teammates. Loki caught word that the Widow would be there and he was certain his presence would sour the mood. He abstained, and had a meager meal in his room instead. He fixed his mind on the promise of seeing you again and whiled away the hours until finally, finally they boarded the quinjet. The flight was tolerable enough, knowing that every minute brought him closer to you. When they landed he didn't bother going home at all. He said his goodbye to Thor and immediately set off down the road from New Asgard.

He opened your door and was met with the smell of baking. You were in the kitchen, one tray of cookies cooling on a rack and another about to enter the oven. His ache was soothed at seeing you, but it wasn't enough. He called your name as he crossed the room as quickly as he could.

You glanced up at him as he reached you. "Oh, hey Loki." It was much more casual than he expected. Not deterred, he leaned in to kiss you but missed his target as you turned away to place the tray in the oven. "How was your flight back?" He was stunned for a moment, but took a step closer. "It was fine." He leaned again and once more you took no notice and turned at the last moment to another counter. This time he narrowed his eyes. "No fights with Thor?" He didn't answer, instead he placed himself in your path and his suspicions were confirmed when you casually turned from him and reached up to open a cabinet. You startled when his arm shot out and snapped it shut. His eyes were burning as he loomed and growled. "If you don't kiss me immediately I will burn this realm to the ground." You considered this for a moment. "Where would you start? There are a couple places I would-" You were cut off as he looped an arm around your waist and pulled you close in a crushing kiss. He was gratified when your hands immediately found their place at his shoulders.

Once he was satisfied he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours. "You are, without question, the most irritating, petulant mortal I have ever had the misfortune of loving." A smirk curled your lips. "How many mortals have you loved?" He chuckled softly and kissed your cheek. "Just the one." "Sounds like I'll be winning a bunch of titles, then." "Yes. Superlative in all respects."

He was pleased to notice that your hands didn't leave him, winding their way around his neck. You leaned your head against his shoulder and sighed. "I missed you." "And I, you. Desperately." "How did it go?" "Very well. For several days I refrained from throwing Stark out of a window. A resounding success." You laughed. "I'm so proud of you." "And how were things here?" "I wasted away, pining for my lost love." "I should expect nothing less." He stated solemnly. "I do have the remedy."

Without notice, he bent and grasped your waist, effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder. You squealed. "Loki!" He started carrying you toward the bedroom. You kicked and wriggled, to his absolute delight. "Loki wait!" "Oh, I have waited long enough, I think." You reached away from him, toward the oven. "The cookies!" "You should have considered that before you gave that insolent performance at my homecoming." You struggled some more, laughing. "At least let me turn the oven off!" He waved a hand and there was a click of a knob. With no more excuses, you relented.

He stepped into the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him.

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gingernut1314 · 4 months

Text

'Tis the Season

Straw Hat Crew x GN!Reader

Summary: You share your holiday celebrations with your crew aboard the Going Merry.

Warnings: fluffffffff, some (very little) mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Soooo I've gotten into the holiday spirit and needed to write this, so I hope you all don't mind too much! @fanaticsnail thank you for contributing to my holiday cheer with your wonderful x-mas works! (go check them out if you haven't already! Very good!!) I hope everyone has an amazing holiday or can find joy in something that brings you happiness this month!!! 🩷

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Luffy: 🍖

As soon as you tell him anything about the holiday you celebrated back on your home island, he would insist on doing it right then and there

Festive and colorful decorations? He’s stopping at the nearest island to gather supplies and doctorate the Merry to your liking

Hot chocolate and food? Yes please.

Turkey, roast beef, or ham for dinner? Why not all of it?

The food is the most important part of this new holiday, he thinks

He’s getting Sanji to whip up every delicacy you can possibly think of

Fun holiday activities? The crew will be dragged along and they will have fun

He’ll want to double--no triple check that Santa is going to visit the Merry because he sounds super cool and he wants to recruit him onto the crew

I mean, come on! The guy loves cookies and milk and those are some of Luffy's favorite things!

…and he will be very skeptical of you telling him Santa is, unfortunately, not real

Luffy is dead broke so he goes to Nami to beg for berry so that he can get you a gift

Nami, of course, refuses to give him a single coin and tells him to make you something

So he would spend hours making you a gift

He would hand you a drawing of him hugging the life out of you on the Merry

And you would have to have him explain to you what is happening in his creation because all you can make out is the colors red and blue and what looks to be his signature straw hat

You love it regardless and hang it on the wall next to your hammock

Luffy will want to recreate the picture of course, and you’ll be more than happy to hug your captain back

Will leave cookies and milk out for Santa (and will eventually devour what he left out) and will try (and fail) to stay up all night to see Santa

You would find him dead asleep half an hour later and would be sure to leave a few gifts under the too-large tree he had Zoro set up on the deck for him

Luffy will get that guy next year, just you wait and see

Zoro: 🗡️🥦 ⚔️

He is uninterested

None of it is his style

Too flashy and too loud

He’s good to take a nap during the festivities

You will be able to entice him to come and eat the food Sanji was kind enough to prepare

And you’ll entice him further with some spiked holiday drinks

Luffy is all over the holiday, so it won’t take much convincing to sail back to your home island for the day

And while the rest of the crew is partaking in the festivities your home village is throwing in the snow-covered street, you’ll slip away with Zoro’s hand in your own

You will tell him how this holiday isn’t just about joy, food, and festive songs, but about life and death

You showed him back to the ruins of your childhood home, which he had been in mere moments before the villain you had been helping them fight set fire to it

The scorched front lawn was covered in clumps of candles, garland wreaths, rocks, and food, just as you knew it would be

You explained that your village had done this in celebration of the life your family had lived--to remember them and keep their souls filled with joy in whatever afterlife they might have entered

He would watch you light a candle and pull a small trinket from your pocket, placing them both on the blackened steps of your home

Zoro would light a candle and place it next to yours, sitting there with you for as long as you needed

He would even wrap you up in one of his strong arms, holding you tight

Later, you would gift him a bottle of sake

He had no clue gift-giving had anything to do with your holiday, so he would insist you share the bottle with him

He will be sure to get you a gift next year

Nami: 🍊

She would be a little on the uninterested side at first

But after watching how excited you got as you explained to the rest of the crew about the holiday you celebrated, she would warm up to it

She would even warm up enough to allow you to doctorate her tangerine trees with lights and tinsel

The lights were pretty enough, she supposed. The tinsel shiny

And she does love shiny things

Once in the holiday spirit, she would let it fully take her over

Nami would dock the Merry on the closest island and go searching for the best gift she could find you

When it came to you, she hardly thought much about how much berry she was spending

You and your joy were more important to her than a number

You had commented on needing a new pair of shoes a week ago? Bought.

Commented on wanting something so offhandedly you had forgotten the moment you stepped away? Bought and wrapped in whatever wrapping paper she could find that screamed your holiday in its bright colors

She would be very excited to watch you unwrap everything she had gotten you (which you had been very shocked at, but had been told strictly to just unwrap everything and not worry so much)

You would feel a bit embarrassed at how little you had gotten her, but she wouldn’t care because your gift was thoughtful

So thoughtful it nearly brought her to tears

After everyone else had gone to bed, she would take you back up onto the deck and hand you a cup of hot chocolate she had attempted to make (which she had done a pretty good job at creating without the help of Sanji)

The two of you would sit, snuggled up next to each other under a heavy blanket and watch the dancing, multicolored lights adorning her trees late into the night

Usopp: 🤥

Will get into it right away

He loves any excuse to celebrate, so your holiday is already perfect

Usopp is quick to make colored lights to hang up around the ship

And he’ll want to make everyone a stocking, which will be color coordinating and have some sort of special technique that didn’t need to be added in the first place

He loves all the different holiday-themed stories and songs

Throughout the day, he’ll randomly burst into horribly off-tune song and you will be expected to join in

The traditional stories you tell him get the typical Captain Usopp spin to them

But it just makes them that much better in your opinion

They become your crew's stories, making them so special

While the crew eats and drinks holiday drinks, he’ll tell the stories and have everyone, even Zoro, entranced by their colorfulness

You made the big mistake of telling him about Krampus

And now he is utterly terrified of getting kidnapped and beaten by the goat-demon

Though he won’t say he’s scared

He'll be very admit that he isn't

But a loud stomp of the foot against the deck floor from Zoro has the poor storyteller jumping out of his skin and using you as a shield

Usopp is a very good gift-giver

Not only is it handmade, but it is also functional (for once) and it will help you out loads

You give him his gift and he bursts into tears, thanking you and hugging you profusely

Everyone will go to bed, the lights hanging up everywhere only adding to the cozy, homeyness of the Going Merry

And you’ll just be nodding off when Usopp comes crawling into your hammock, begging you with tears in his eyes to keep Krampus away from him

You’ll laugh at him at first, but end up promising to keep him safe while you hold him tight

And he’ll hold you back just as, if not more, tight

Sanji: 🧑‍🍳

Of course, Sanji gets into the holiday spirit

It's a holiday you celebrate and one that makes you happy

And all he ever wants to do is make you happy

You’ll sheepishly bring him your family's old cookbook full of recipes passed down from generation to generation

And he’ll be more than happy to cook you whatever your heart desires

Nothing is too much in his eyes when it comes to you

He’ll insist you help him cook everything, seeing as you are the expert when it comes to these recipes

And you two will share bits and pieces of everything before it all disappears into the void that is your captain’s stomach

He will also be very interested in this mistletoe tradition

He makes it his mission to not only hang the green sprigs everywhere around the ship

But to get you under as many of them as he possibly can, for as long as he possibly can

You find yourself purposely wondering under the mistletoe and lingering there until Sanji notices and rushes over

Though Sanji wants to get you the best gift he can possibly buy, he’s not the best when it comes to gift-giving

Food and physical touch are his love language after all

So he bakes you a sweet treat you had once told him about, one you hadn’t had since your childhood

And it’s the best gift you could have ever wished for because he made it just like how you remembered it

He loves whatever you give him

It could be a stick you say reminds you of him and he would be over the moon, mounting it and hanging it up in the kitchen

Though you are sure to get him a very nice gift, one you had spent weeks thinking over so it was just right

He doesn’t need the mistletoe to show you just how much he appreciates the gift

Sanji makes you both hot chocolate and holds you tight as you two talk in the abandoned and cleaned kitchen

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lluringli · 4 months

Text

like clockwork.

PREMISE. when the saying goes, “‘tis the season to be jolly,” it really didn’t apply to you in one bit. perhaps it should be more of, “‘tis the season to be jealous!” PAIRING. choi yeonjun x gender-neutral!reader CONTENT. fluff, suggestive content — (mentions of) kissing. WORD COUNT. 1,725 words.

note. merry christmas, everybody! ♡ this was supposed to be just a blurb, but i got carried away, and now i have this written as my comeback from my short hiatus! i might write more for the other txt members, but it really depends if i manage to finish writing them early.

“What’s got my favorite present acting so pouty?” Yeonjun’s voice playfully chimed in from across the room.

The room embraced a warm, twinkling cocoon of holiday lights, the air infused with the irresistible scent of festive joy—well, except for the miniature storm cloud of pouting that seemed to have made a temporary home around you. And, perhaps, your dog caught a whiff of the atmosphere, contributing with adorable small barks that were seemingly aimed in your direction. You couldn’t help but wonder if your dearest, sweetest boyfriend was cradling the pup in his arms.

But there you were, left in the frosty outskirts of the festive glow, a slight pang of jealousy tugging at your heartstrings. You envisioned your boyfriend, wrapped in the soft embrace of holiday warmth and sharing whispered secrets with your furry friend while you were relegated to the sidelines.

It felt like an unintentional exclusion from the coziest club in the world—a club that consisted of your boyfriend, your dog, and, well, not you. Unfair was an understatement.

The twinkle of the lights seemed to highlight the disparity, casting shadows that danced in tandem with the flickers of jealousy. You sighed, a mixture of amusement and longing, as the room continued to be a haven for holiday cheer that you couldn’t quite fully embrace.

“Baby, you’re going to get cold. Come over here and let me warm you up with a kiss,” Yeonjun cooed, closing the distance between him and your unmoving form on the shared bed. Your dog chimed in with an enthusiastic bark as if wholeheartedly endorsing Yeonjun’s proposal.

When the saying goes, “‘Tis the season to be jolly,” perhaps it really didn’t apply to you. And maybe Yeonjun as well—but hey, it was more directed to you. With your back faced against him as you lay still on your side of the king-sized bed (honestly, he wouldn’t mind you taking the whole bed with your sulking, but you vowed to be as dramatic as possible, deciding quite literally to be a stone on your small side) if it was even considered to be your side of the bed considering how you’re at the deathly edge, your hands clinging on the bedding for dear life, like it’s a raft in a sea of grumpiness.

But your pride goes up and beyond, Yeonjun included. Maybe. But right now, he’s at the very least on the list of your concerns.

So, while you kept showing the world and Yeonjun that you were impervious to the emotional frost, the truth sparkled beneath the surface like freshly fallen snow catching the moonlight. Well, you did care. You wore it like a cozy sweater, shielding yourself from the chill of admitting that, well, maybe you did care. A lot. The jack was out of the box, and it turns out it wasn’t a mischievous jester but a big, fluffy heart that spilled out.

“Baby?” Yeonjun called out, his voice now softened, a realization dawning upon him that the straightforward approach might not be enough to turn your attention. There was a gentle plea in his tone, an attempt to bridge the emotional gap that seemed to have taken root.

To subject your beloved boyfriend to the lonely confines of your hushed bedroom, his adorable pout likely evolving into an even more pronounced expression of cute disappointment as he spots you cozily tucked away in a corner, not even gracing him with a glimpse of your face? Well, that’s a mischievous act in his eyes, a misdemeanor you’re wholeheartedly ready to commit if it means wrapping him in a cozy blanket of guilt.

"C’mere and give me a kiss," he repeated, the words a warm invitation that promised to banish any hint of chilliness. The shared bed transformed into a haven of affection, with your dog serving as the fluffy cheerleader in the background, affirming that, yes, a kiss was undoubtedly the solution to all things cold and frosty.

Oh, the lengths you’re willing to go to ensure he’s bathed in a sea of regretful fluffiness. It’s a temporary tactic, sure, but for now, the silent corner treatment is your chosen strategy. Yeah, that should work. Well, for now, at least.

Entertaining your own mischievous musings is all well and good, but reality has a way of outshining even the most whimsical daydreams. Yeonjun, much to your surprise and dismay, wasn’t exactly sulking and pouting as your vivid imagination painted him. Instead, there he was, with the audacity to sport a soft smile, his eyes gleaming with an affectionate sparkle that defied the fact that you were, quite literally, giving him the cold shoulder.

Your gaze remained fixated elsewhere, more so on the blank wall in front of you, the realm of your focus stubbornly diverted, giving him no indication that you were ready to relent. The air around you crackled with a silent standoff, an unspoken tension that painted the atmosphere in shades of anticipation.

Usually, Yeonjun despises those moments when you're mad at him. It’s like a merry-go-round of internal chaos for him, his head spinning with a whirlwind of thoughts, and more often than not, he ends up pouting more than a toddler denied their favorite toy. But today is different from that—a lot more different than the normal occurrence, in fact, because as much as Yeonjun can and will annoy you (he’s done it before, so there’s no saying he’s not afraid to do it again), it’s the holiday season.

Yeonjun swallows the lump in his throat. Deep down, secretly, ever so slightly, he’s annoyed at the fact that he’s the only one channeling the jolly vibes of the festivity. So, in the spirit of the season (and because, well, he loves you), Yeonjun decides to be the miracle of patience and understanding.

“Come on,” he coos, the warmth in his voice akin to a soft embrace. Yeonjun, determined to crack the code to your mysterious mood, tries a different method, “What’s in my pretty baby’s head that they don’t want to tell me, hm?”

It’s a feeble attempt, a gentle nudge to unravel the truth from the cocoon you've spun around yourself. But hey, an attempt is an attempt, and Yeonjun is on a mission.

“Why don’t you go spend some time with your pretty baby,” you spat out, though it came half-muffled with the way you buried your face not just in a pillow but in Yeonjun’s pillow. And, of course, he just smiles at this because, spitefulness aside, you’re honestly just adorable. Yeonjun, in all his charm and playfulness, is doing his best not to combust into a pile of lovesick goo.

Keyword: trying. Truth be told, he’s confused. But then, in a moment, you turn around, and Yeonjun sees it—the furrowed brows, the daggers in your glare. Speaking of glares, he notices exactly to whom you’re looking, or rather, to what you’re looking at.

“Care to say that again, doll?”

If there’s anything in this world, it’s the dog your eyes have undoubtedly landed on. The air is suddenly charged with unspoken tension, and Yeonjun, with a flicker of realization, feels the weight of your gaze directed at the fluffy animal.

Consider him a saint, indeed, for at least trying his hardest to act civil about it. The moment you tore your eyes away from the innocent dog, who was just merely barking your way (and most definitely not being spoiled by your dearest boyfriend), you locked eyes with Yeonjun. Now, consider that your worst mistake.

“I said, why don’t you go–” you retaliate, the words poised on the tip of your tongue, but they come to a screeching halt. In the middle of your sentence, you see him.

He and his stupidly soft hair, with bangs that seemed to frame his face in a way that was almost too perfect. And those soft, pouty lips—you definitely did not miss the feeling of them on your own set of lips. Then there were his eyes. Stupidly attractive eyes that were now fixated on your figure, and if you focused hard enough, you could have sworn you saw them quickly glance at your lips. The mere thought takes your breath away, and like clockwork, you suddenly forget why you’re even jealous in the first place.

At this moment, everything else fades into the background, leaving only the image of Yeonjun in your mind, and you find yourself caught in the magnetic pull of his presence.

“So that’s what's been taking up my pretty baby's mind all day long?” Yeonjun’s voice breaks the silence, a teasing glint evident in his voice, and there’s nothing more you want than to punch him and wipe the look on his face. Lightheartedly, of course, you don’t actually want to hurt your boyfriend. Well, perhaps just a little bit. There’s a playful glint in his eyes as if he’s deciphered the unspoken thoughts swirling in your head. “Am I not showering you with enough of my attention, hm? Is that it?”

But you know better than that. You don’t respond because Yeonjun has you right where he wants you to, and he wasn’t asking a question in the first place. He and his absurdly attractive voice, him and his ridiculously flustering gaze that lingers on your face for far too long, him and his overwhelmingly captivating presence–

Yeonjun’s words hang in the air like the sweetest fragrance. Like that, he’s suddenly above you, his arms on each side of your head, which basically rendered you with no escape. But if there’s anything sweeter than that, it’s Yeonjun’s lips on yours that sent a delightful shiver down your spine, like an unexpected rush of warmth spreading through every fiber of your being. The gentle pressure of his kiss held a magnetic quality, leaving you momentarily breathless and pleasantly disoriented.

It was a wordless exchange, yet it conveyed a myriad of emotions. And when Yeonjun saw you kiss back almost immediately, a playful smirk curved his lips.

“You should’ve just told me you wanted my attention so badly, baby,” Yeonjun whispers in your ear, his voice a velvety caress that sends a delightful shiver down your spine, and the dog nowhere in your sight.

But then it barks, and you realize he dropped it on the floor.

#₊˚ʚ penpal #kflixnet #k labels #txt x reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt timestamps #txt fluff #txt drabbles #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun drabbles #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun soft hours #yeonjun oneshot #txt x gender neutral reader #txt x gn reader

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masterjedilenawrites · 4 months

Text

All I Want for Christmas

Clone x Reader Life Day Exchange 2023

My gift is for the lovely @anxiouspineapple99! Hope you enjoy, and have a wonderful Christmas! 🎁❤️💚

Please go check out the @cloneficgiftexchange blog for all the other contributions to this great event! Fics are being posted all throughout today (12/16). Spread the love for fandom writers/creators by reblogging!

Fives x fem!reader | 2.8k words

Content: fluff, Christmas themes, snuggling for warmth, confessions, friends to lovers

Prompts: "Keep doing that and you'll end up on the naughty list." & "All I want for Christmas is you."

It was a crisp and windy night, though you wouldn't feel the effects of the cold right away. Your eagerness for the evening's activities would fill you with enough warmth for a short while, as would the enjoyable company of your best friend, Fives.

You were surrounded by many friends and clones, a group of you who tried as often as possible to celebrate the year's holidays together. This year, not everyone would be on planet when Christmas Day came around, but you'd all managed to find a night earlier in the month to come together and exchange gifts, share good food, and, as you were about to do now, walk around the neighborhoods to admire the lights.

And while you loved all your friends dearly, it was Fives who you'd been most eager to see. You felt closest to him the most. You seemed to understand each other so well, falling into step right where you'd last left off, as if he hadn't been gone for the past several months. As if there hadn't been whispers that his unit had fallen under attack and may not be coming home this time, leaving you numb with worry. As if you hadn't realized you were in love with him when you heard he would come back after all, safe and sound.

"What the hell is that?" he laughed beside you as you passed by a house that seemed to be quite normal.

"What's what?" You gazed around but could only see the standard set up of dazzling lights and festive lawn ornaments.

Fives wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pointed to two reindeer decorations... that were stacked rather suggestively on top of one another. "That."

You could only momentarily process how close he was, how warm you felt being held like that, before you fell into sync with his laughter. It was a pretty funny thing to come across, especially as Fives began to muse whether the owners of the house set it up that way on purpose or if they were pranked. Either scenario was humorous. He then insisted on taking a photo of you with the indecent display in the background.

Though your laughter over the reindeer had warmed you up, the moment you two spent over it caused you to fall behind the rest of the group. You could no longer see them on the street, nor could you hear their lively sounds of chatter.

"They must have turned that corner up there," Fives said as you two started walking again. He was no longer holding you but was walking alongside you a little closer than before. Or, at least that's what it felt like. Maybe you were just imagining it.

There was a little bit of silence as you passed by the next brightly lit house and admired it. But Fives wasn't one to keep quiet for too long.

"So, what do you want for Christmas?" he asked.

You forced your gaze away from the pretty lights to look at him, noting a flush in his cheeks but deciding it must be the wind.

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled a little. "What do you mean? It's a simple question. What's on your wishlist this year?"

"I just thought... never mind," you shrugged, having thought he wanted to know what to get you, which of course was silly since your group was doing a white elephant exchange this year. "Um, I don't know. There really isn't anything I want, to be honest."

Fives knocked his shoulder into yours, accompanied by a dramatic gasp. "You don't want aaaa-nything? Impossible."

You just smiled and shook your head. "Yeah, not really."

"So you're good? You're perfectly content? Everything in your life is amazing and you're in need of nothing more?"

Of course the answer to his questions was a lot more complicated than the simple "Yep" you responded with. You were content in this moment, walking alongside your best friend, enjoying the festivities of the season in his company. But before this moment, you hadn't really been happy. You'd been worried sick by his absence, impatient to see him again, doubting that he'd be as thrilled to see you. You'd been nothing short of lovesick and you had no idea how to admit such a thing to him now.

"I don't buy it," he said, bumping playfully against you again. "There has to be something."

You finally came up to the corner you assumed your friends had turned down. You took it without thought, knowing it would loop back around to your friend's house. A house that was starting to sound really appealing given that a chill was settling back in.

"Clothes?" Fives asked.

"Huh?"

"Like a nice scarf or a dress or something?" Oh, you realized he was still trying to figure out your Christmas wish list. "Or fuzzy socks?"

"I have plenty of fuzzy socks," you said. And with that thought, you realized your toes were getting rather cold, despite being wrapped in thick socks and boots. That then led to you recognize just how cold you were all over: your nose, your hands, your knees....

"Okay, then how about jewelry? Girls always like jewelry, right?"

You rolled your eyes as you dug your hands deeper into your pockets, searching for warmth. "I don't really need any more jewelry."

You weren't paying much attention to the lights anymore, instead picking up the pace so you could get back to the warmth of your friend's house sooner. Fives didn't seem to care about the lights, either. He was still trying to figure out your supposed Christmas wishlist.

"What about a box of chocolates?"

"I buy enough chocolate as it is."

"A candle?"

"Pretty sure half of the white elephant gifts in there are candles."

"Hm... You like games right?"

"I have enough games."

"Nonsense, you can never have too many games."

"Well, when your friends aren't around to play them with you, you can."

Fives was silent. You looked over to find he was watching you with a sort of sadness in his eyes. No, not sadness... guilt.

"I'm sorry," he said after a beat. "I wish I was around more..."

"No, no," you were quick to jump in, not wanting him to feel that way at all. "It's fine. It is what it is. We all know that."

Fives nodded but didn't seem convinced. He looked away, stared straight ahead, as you passed by the last house and arrived at your friend's. The change of course up to the porch seemed to snap him out of his mindlessness and bring him back into better spirits.

"A puppy!" he declared as you approached the door. Both of you were stomping your shoes against the wood of the porch to dislodge any dirt you'd picked up along the way. "No one in the entire galaxy could say no to a puppy."

You huffed out a laugh of defeat. "Okay, sure, I'll take a puppy for Christmas."

He laughed with you as you opened the front door. You expected a wall of warmth to hit you, accompanied by smells of food and chatter of friends. Instead you were met with dim lights, silence, and a cold that almost rivaled the frigid air you'd just walked in from.

"What the..." Fives joined your confusion in the entry hall, and then snapped his fingers as he realized something. "Kix said he knew someone in this neighborhood. They all must have gone there. We beat them back."

You vaguely recalled passing by a house with loud voices from inside, surely including voices from your friends, but you were too busy trying to warm your hands now to dwell on it further. Fives placed a gentle hand on your back as he scooted past you and down the hall toward the thermostat. He messed with it a bit as you shuffled into the little den off the entry. You were reluctant to remove your coat and scarf when it was still so cold.

"Hm," Fives frowned, joining you a few moments later. He flicked on a lamp on the table beside you. "Heat's not coming on. Something's broken."

"Can you fix it?" You tried not to let your teeth chatter.

"Yeah..." he trailed off and you followed his gaze to the fireplace on the opposite end of the room. His lips quirked, a sign he was going to get up to something. "Or... we could have ourselves a cozy little fire instead!"

He shuffled around the sofa and started investigating the decorations on top of the mantle.

"What?" you asked as you stepped around the sofa as well.

"Ah ha!" He opened up what had looked to be merely a decoration of an old fashioned truck, but apparently doubled as storage for some matches. In no time, Fives had started a humble fire amongst the wood in the fireplace and was stepping back toward you.

"Take your coat off, get cozy!" he laughed in delight, sitting down on the sofa and patting the cushion next to him.

You reluctantly shrugged off your coat. You could feel little puffs of warm air from the fire but the room overall was still too cold to be comfortable. You let out an involuntary shiver as you joined Fives on the sofa.

"Uh oh," he teased, scooting closer. "Need to cuddle for warmth?"

You knew his offer was in jest, but you couldn't resist the thought, especially when your cheeks were already heating at an alarming rate just by sitting this close. Fuck it, you decided, and promptly slid your arms around his middle and pulled him close.

"Well okay then," he laughed in amusement, wrapping his own arms around you in return. He wasn't angry, which you took as encouragement and buried your frozen nose into the crook of his neck. You felt one of his hands come up to rest on the back of your head, keeping you in place for a wonderful, peaceful moment.

You warmed up fairly quickly, though your fingers still felt numb. Without thinking, you shifted a bit and slid your hands underneath Fives' shirt, seeking the warmth of his skin. His muscles tensed in response.

"Whoa there," he chuckled lowly. "Keep doing that and you'll end up on the naughty list."

The heat from the blush on your cheeks immediately shot through the rest of your body. You were mortified. Fives was your friend, what were you doing?

You detached yourself quickly and mumbled an apology. He was still laughing a bit so you joined in nervously, but not daring to meet his eyes. Not when you were this flustered. He relaxed back onto the sofa and draped an arm along the backside, just beside your head.

"So, um, what do you want for Christmas?" you asked, trying to get past your awkwardness and back to the easygoing state of your friendship, despite the ache deep within your chest that yearned for something more.

"Me? Oh, nothing much."

Now you looked over at him, balking. "Fives!"

"What?" he grinned.

You swatted at him. "You just gave me shit for not wanting anything!"

"I said I didn't want much, not that I didn't want anything at all."

You huffed. "Okay, then what is this 'nothing much' that you want?"

His smile didn't completely disappear, just settled into something a little softer, more pensive. He cocked his head a bit as he looked at you, considering what to say.

"Would you be mad if I said that all I want for Christmas is you?"

You blinked at first, unable to come up with an other reaction. How could you? How could you process such a confession? Was it even a confession? Or was he just being cheeky?

You forced yourself to clear your throat. "Mad? Confused is more like it."

"Confused?" He smirked for only a second before settling back into that strange and soft look. "What's so confusing?"

"Uh... I mean..." you stammered through an awkward laugh. "What does that even mean? You want me... to do something? To... to... see me? You're seeing me right now..."

Your skin was still alight with a fire that seemed to burn brighter than the one in the fireplace. You were so flustered, and Fives was getting a real kick out of it.

"Calm down, cyare," he laughed, scooting a little closer and taking your hands into his. "I want you, as in, I want to... you know.. be with you."

He was starting to get a little shy himself, though you weren't really paying attention. Your heart was threatening to beat its way out of your chest, so you instead focused on the feeling of Fives' hands wrapped around yours. So warm, so firm. They grounded you just enough for his words to sink in. He wanted to be with you.

Now you felt like you were floating. That nasty knot that had settled into the pit of your stomach, back when you'd thought he wasn't coming home, was finally coming undone. Freeing you from its weight. Letting you soar with hope for a different kind of future with your best friend.

When you finally brought your eyes back up to meet Fives', you could finally see the blush in his own cheeks, the way his eyes searched yours for validation. He'd made himself vulnerable in a way he'd only ever been a handful of times with you. Like when he'd confessed how frustrated he was about the war, how angry it made him sometimes to think about it, how he secretly held dreams of one day escaping and living a normal life somewhere. You thought back to those conversations now, viewing them in a different light. You'd always wondered what his idea of normal was, if it included anyone else... anyone like you. And now you were starting to get an idea that it did.

"I'm sorry if this is sudden," he said quickly and quietly, filling in the silence you didn't mean to leave. "It's just... you know this last mission was... well, it didn't go very well. And it made me reevaluate my life. What I really want. And honestly, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

He gave a bashful smile and you returned it, easing his nerves just a little.

"I was really worried about you," you confessed, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. "I didn't just want you to come back, I wanted you to come back to me. And I'm so glad you want the same."

You both laughed once more, though more out of relief than nervousness, and ended by resting your foreheads against each other. Fives then let go of your hands so he could bring his arms back around you and pull you close again. You let yourself rest against him with a contented sigh... and then bolted right back up as a thought occurred to you.

"Wait, you said you want me for Christmas?"

"Yeah..." Fives' eyes were wide with alarm.

"Just for Christmas? And that's it?"

The tension immediately left his shoulders as he realized what you were doing. He gave you a look and you used all your willpower to hold back your amusement.

"So when Christmas is all over, you'll be done with me?" you pushed on with the bit. "You won't want me anymore?"

"Ugh, cyare, please," Fives rolled his eyes and tried wrapping his arms around you again.

"I just want to be clear about this." Your voice was breaking, as was his own act to be annoyed. The two of you could never hold it together for very long.

"Of course I'll want you after Christmas is over," he said through a chuckle. "I'll want you for Valentine's and for your birthday and all the solstices..."

"So you only want me on holidays?"

"You're killing me here, you know," he grumbled into your shoulder.

You would've continued with your teasing, but just then the front door opened behind you, letting in your missing friends. Even if you and Fives had tried to act innocent, you wouldn't have been quick enough. Whatever they'd been talking about on their way in immediately changed into a chorus of gasps and cheers.

"Well it's about time!"

"Oh my god!"

"Finally!"

"I knew it!"

You snuggled closer to Fives, in part to hide your embarrassment, but also to escape the wisp of cold air your friends had let in with them. Fives laughed along with the commotion while holding you, and it felt like the most natural thing, being in his arms like this.

"For the record," he later whispered into your ear, when things had died down with your friends enough, "I want you every day for the rest of my life. If you'll have me."

You smiled into his chest and held him closer.

"Of course. You're all I want, too."

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully

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#star wars #the clone wars #one shot #fives #arc trooper fives #fives x reader #fluff #christmas #snuggling by the fire #cloneficgiftexchange

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nerdgirljen · 4 months

Text

Unfortunately, I was unable to get my contribution to @lewmagoo’s A Lew Magoo Christmas challenge completed before 11:59pm EST on December 24. The holidays completely snuck up on me, and before I knew it, it's Christmas Eve and I only had a mood board completed, and yet I had so much left to do. It is, however, being posted on Christmas, and I am so extremely sorry I missed the deadline.

It was inspired by the Eagles song, "Please Come Home for Christmas." I hope you all enjoy!

Please Come Home for Christmas by NerdGirlJen

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick Character: Bob Floyd Pairing: Bob Floyd x reader Word Count: 1,300ish... Rating: G/PG

Summary: Bob’s away from home on Christmas, and he absolutely hates it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Top Gun: Maverick, I just like to play with the characters a bit. I also know nothing about the Navy, Navial aviators, aircraft carriers, so all mistakes are on me because I did very little research. Also not betaed… did you miss the part where real life has been hectic af and I didn’t even start this until late on Christmas Eve?

Warnings: missing family, homesickness, other than those, no warnings.

__________

An aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific Ocean was not where Bob Floyd wanted spend Christmas, but here he is sitting in the ship's mess hall waiting for his allotted time to video call home. A bag of peanut butter M&Ms sat before him, open, but Bob was too distracted to eat any of the tasty treats. His mind wasn’t concentrating on the chocolate goodness, nor on the television they wheeled in that was currently playing White Christmas. No, his mind was somewhere else, indeed.

Home.

The one real place he couldn’t get out of his head for the last three weeks at sea. He missed you dearly, and he was wracked with guilt knowing that he should be stateside with you. You were partners, in life and in love, and he doesn’t think it fair to you that he’s not home to help with such a momentous day.

He especially doesn’t think it’s fair to himself that he’s not home to celebrate his daughter’s first Christmas. Charlotte only gets one first Christmas, and it’s killing him that he’s missing it.

Bob doesn’t regret enlisting in the Navy. He’s done some amazing things since beginning his career as a Wizzo, gone to some amazing places, both domestic and abroad, and he’s met some amazing people, as well. However, none of those things, places, or people compare to where his head is currently daydreaming of and where he left his heart behind. So no, he doesn’t regret enlisting, but he sure doesn’t appreciate the timing of the mission he just wrapped up.

“Bobbo, you alright over there?” A voice close to him knocked him out of his thinking, and he turned to face his friend, and pilot, Natasha, looking down at him with concern.

“Oh, I’m alright, I guess” he sighed. “I was just thinking about back home.”

Natasha’s face lit up at the mention of “back home” knowing exactly to whom Bob was referring. He smiled at her exuberance and motioned for her to sit at the table he currently occupied.

“How is my baby?” she asked, excited to hear about her god-daughter’s latest antics. “Lottie still keeping her mom up at all hours of the night wanting to party instead of sleep?”

Bob smiled, remembering the last phase the 8-month-old had gone through. He was still at home for the beginning of that stage, and no matter what you or he did, Lottie didn’t sleep much at all, and so neither of you got much sleep either. Natasha thinks that Lottie has a strong case of ‘fear of missing out’ and doesn’t want to miss anything going on around her, and, unfortunately after a few weeks of restless nights in a row, Bob and you started thinking that the pilot was right. It didn’t matter what the time of day was, but whenever she was awake, Charlotte’s beautiful hazel eyes would look at everything around her so intently and so curiously that Bob wondered if she were trying to solve some puzzle neither of you could see.

“Lottie’s perfect, Nat,” he bragged. “Growing like a weed, and sharp as a tack.” He regaled his friend with her latest antics you told him about over the phone. Just before he deployed, Charlotte had just started to crawl; however, it was on the call he made to you last week that you told him that instead of forwards, Lottie was now crawling backwards with great enthusiasm. Bumping into any and everything along the way. Natasha’s eyes lit up and she laughed, delightedly. “I can’t wait to get home and be able to hold her again. I’ll take the sleepless nights just to be home soon.”

Bob missed his baby girl. He missed you, too, and he was so grateful that the mission he and Natasha had just finished was completed safely and successfully so that he could get home in one piece to be with his girls. If he had his way, he’d not leave the dock again for a long time. Maybe it was time to request he be stationed on land for a while, that way he doesn’t have to be away from you like he currently is.

“Well, I can’t help you be there quicker,” Natasha noted. “I mean, not unless we steal a jet, but I’d prefer to not be court martialed, dishonorably discharged, and face jail time.”

Bob grinned. “Yeah, if I can’t stand spending a month away from them, I know I couldn’t spend twenty plus years away.” Natasha grabbed at the bag of chocolate in front of him and started munching at a few of the candies. She smiled, wistfully, at the melancholy she could hear in her friend’s voice and the faraway look in his eyes.

“Trace!” came a barked shout. “You’re next! Floyd, you’re after Trace.” Finally.

Bob expected Natasha to stand and follow the Info Systems Tech to the conference room they had set up for the day, but Natasha surprised him by calling out to the IST instead. “Sir,” Nat said, “I’m forfeiting my time to Floyd so he can spend a bit more of the holiday with his family.”

Bob’s eyes grew wide, and he grabbed Natasha’s hand to object. “Nat, no,” he started to protest, but the look she gave him told him not to argue with her. It wasn’t a secret to anyone on board the carrier that he had a wife and new kid at home that he loved with every fiber of his being. He was constantly showing photos of the two to anyone who asked or even stood still long enough to chat. Other sailors and officers with families knew and understood where the WSO was coming from because they all did the same.

The IST looked pointedly at the pilot before nodding once and amending his earlier proclamation. “Floyd, you’re up!”

Bob stood, still gaping at his friend – his daughter’s god mother – in shock. “Nat, I don’t know how to thank you,” he sputtered.

“The only thanks I need, Bobby Boy, is a special Natasha/Lottie Day after we get back,” she stated. “Okay?”

“More than,” he was barely able to say as his emotions were overwhelming him. He squeezed Natasha’s hand in thanks, and quickly got up to follow the tech officer. Once reaching the conference room, Bob sat in front of the provided laptop, and gave the IST the number to call.

One ring, two rings, three…

The screen lit up with a small face with a gummy grin that was mid giggle. “Merry Christmas, Daddy!” he heard his wife exclaim through the speakers, but Bob was more mesmerized by the cherub cheeked infant whose eyes sparkled brightly and whose jubilant squeals lightened the WSO up from the inside.

“There’s my girls,” he said, gratefully, beginning his scheduled video chat time.

Now, while Bob Floyd couldn’t be home for Christmas this year, he was happy to receive what little bit of time he could have with you on the screen. He was up for reassignment soon, and he was absolutely going to be ask for fewer, and shorter, missions and deployments. Whether the Powers that Be would grant his request, he didn’t know, but he was certain he didn’t want to spend another holiday being away from you two.

“Tell me, how has Christmas been so far?” He smiled as you started detailing the holiday spent with his parents and family.

Yeah, he definitely couldn’t wait to be home.

___

Annnnd end scene.

Feel free to tell me what you think in a comment. If you think it's completely horrid, keep that to yourself! (Just kidding, all constructive criticism is good constructive criticism.)

Anyway, happy Christmas to everyone. Or Happy Holidays to whatever holiday you celebrate. Love you all!

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #top gun: maverick #tgm #natasha trace #phoenix #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction

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bitterie-sweetie · 1 year

Text

Redo

Pairing: Wonwoo x reader Genre: fluff WC: 3.5k Warnings: mentions of alcohol

The party was a little crazy and you wake up not remembering who you were making out with last night. Luckily your best friend was there and can help you solve this mystery, right?

Is it bad that the only thing you can remember from last night is making out with some guy?

Yeah, you were wasted out of your mind. The obnoxious pounding of your head and the lack of memories beyond your fourth shot at the party is only further proof of that. But oddly enough, you can clearly remember the stranger's gentle touch, the heat of his mouth, and your heart pounding so hard it might explode.

Which, when you think about it, is the other weird thing. That kind of knee-weakening, heart fluttering type of feeling has only ever been evoked by one person before—

"Y/N? Are you even listening?" Wonwoo waves a hand in front of your face, thankfully interrupting your train of thought. "Are you sure you don't remember anything from last night?"

"Based on the way you keep asking me that, I'm starting to think I'm better off not remembering it," you retort, groaning at the growing headache when you attempt to recall any memories at all. "Anyway, that's exactly why I called you. You're the last person I remember from yesterday, and I need your help."

Wonwoo's instant frown tells you that he's already wary about where this conversation is heading. And sure, he has every right to be after having spent years being dragged into the antics of his closest friend.

In your defense though, the party last night wasn't exactly your idea.

The party was Joshua's holiday party that he was co-hosting with his friend, Jeonghan, at a local bar where one of their friends works. You definitely weren't expecting an invite from Joshua, but there he'd been, handing it to you at the end of your tutorial one day. By this point, you'd already heard the rumours about how their parties tend to be... just a little bit sketchy. They had a bad rep, so to say, but no one ever talked about the reason behind that. Of course that only made you all the more curious.

So really, you were just an innocent guest attending a party that your friend personally invited you to.

And it was a good time, at least to you. But judging by Wonwoo's unamused expression, you're now wondering if you perhaps contributed to this bad rep, whatever it was you ended up doing.

"Yeah so. Did you see who I, um..." You have to pause to figure out how to ask your question without asking it directly. "Like, how I ended up getting home? After leaving the party?"

No response. You can feel him staring at you, likely to be judging you internally, but when you meet his eyes, he looks away.

"Right, okay." You give him a wry smile. "That's fine. I was thinking that retracing my steps from last night might help me recover my memories."

Wonwoo blinks.

"Please? I'll buy you that skin you've been eyeing lately?" The least you can do is try to appeal to his gamer side.

He considers for a moment, acting as if the two of you don't already know what the outcome would be. "Make it two skins."

"Deal. Now let's go do this thing."

An hour later, you're getting a strong sense of deja vu as the two of you head to the dinner spot you were just at yesterday. Nothing has changed within the span of a day—the lights are still up, not yet lit in the fading afternoon sunlight, and the trees are still decorated with the tiny trinkets and colourful tinsel. If anything, it's just slightly quieter on the streets without the same bustle of people out like last night.

The stillness on the streets coupled with Wonwoo's strange silence gives you the opportunity to finally slow down and think about why exactly you want to remember the events from last night. Why are you so adamant on finding this mystery person you were making out with? Truth to be told, you don't really know the answer to that; it was just a kiss after all, albeit a good one, but did it need to mean something? You save the thought to examine later.

"Here we are," Wonwoo breaks the silence. He opens the door to the restaurant and steps aside, waiting for you to enter first. "Anything ring a bell yet?"

You snort. "Please, it's not like I can't remember anything from this early on."

He follows right behind you, and soon, the two of you are seated. You're on the opposite side of the restaurant today, though yesterday's table with the couple currently occupying it is within your field of view.

"Oh yeah?" Wonwoo raises a brow at you. "Then what were we talking about?" He slides a menu your way and then opens his own, though he chooses to stare at you instead of reading it, awaiting a response.

You shoot him a dull look back. "We went over your hatred for the holidays. Sorry—not hatred, but distaste. The crowds are terrible, the lights are way too much, and you obviously don't like the red and green colour combo. Don't even get me started on the music."

When the waitress comes by to take your orders, you snap your mouth shut, hoping she didn't overhear this odd conversation. Wonwoo picks something off the menu as if he'd been reading it, while you end up ordering the same thing as yesterday.

"Wow, is that really how you think of me?"

"Who knows," you shrug, feeling the smug smile on your lips. "But you see, I have a theory that it's not really about any of that at all."

"Really? Go on."

You lean a little closer and gesture for him to do the same, intentionally pausing to up the suspense. "I don't think it's about the holiday or festivities at all. What you actually dislike is the—how do I say this..." you wrack your brain for the right term. "It's the couple-ness of it that you don't like. The whole cuffing season thing, the way couples are all around you, from the moment you step out of the house to when you turn on your screen and those hallmark movies are playing. You hate how love is in the air."

He doesn't respond immediately, and so you take a sip of your water to make your whole demeanour a little more nonchalant. The subject is one you don't bring up much—you may have known him for a long time and are his closest friend, but you still don't know why he's never shown any interest in love. There has never been a crush, a dating app, or someone he vaguely found attractive, and he's never cared much about your love life either and would much rather avoid the topic entirely.

Well, not that you've had much of a love life in a long time.

The crease between Wonwoo's brows deepens as he thinks, and by the time he opens his mouth, his entire face is a look of disdain. "I'll go with answer A: shitty crowds, lights, and colours."

"Bingo. I got it, didn't I?" You push it just a bit more so that maybe then he'll tell you what's really on his mind. But before he can respond, the waitress comes back with the food, and you know you've lost your opportunity.

Wonwoo stays silent for a while as the two of you eat, but you can feel his analytical eyes on you every now and then. He almost looks like he wants to say something, like he's wavering and might actually answer your question instead of avoiding it like you expect him to.

He doesn't, though. In the end, he decides to change the subject. "What about you? Why do you want to find the person you were with last night?"

"Because—"

You stop to think.

Perhaps it's what you remember about it that stirs this feeling in your gut. You remember the way it felt, the softness of his lips and the warmth of his fingers as they gently held you. The absolute tenderness that existed despite the heat of the moment and despite the alcohol in your veins making everything glow as the world spun around you.

And then there were the butterflies, the ones that only come out in the presence of that one special person. You're sure not just anyone could've made you feel like that no matter how inebriated you were, so this stranger had to be someone special. There was definitely something there.

Or so you think. Of course it might've been something you misremembered because of your delusional state last night, but at least it was something you could cling onto, right? You've been telling yourself to get out of this cycle of unrequited love and hopefully move on with your life next year. This would be the perfect excuse, and a much better one than the blind dates that your aunt keeps trying to set up for you.

"My family is still on my back about that blind date," you say, rolling your eyes for extra effect. You might as well lay the foundation now so that you have a back up excuse. "Maybe if I find this person and things work out, then they'll finally stop pestering me about that."

"How are you going to find this person? Surely you're not going to go around kissing strangers until you recover your memories? Do you remember anything about them?" Wonwoo's questions come one after the other, and it's the first time he's so interested in your love life. Usually by this point he'd be looking slightly uncomfortable and then changing the subject, and seeing this odd behaviour makes you wonder if it has anything to do with what happened yesterday.

"I... haven't thought that far," you admit. "I guess finding them isn't that important; I just want to know who they are."

"Does it matter who they are?"

The question surprises you again, so you peer at him, trying to analyze him the way he often does to you. Wonwoo's face doesn't give anything away though; he stares back without moving away once you meet his gaze, almost as if daring you to answer the question. Just like you did earlier when asking about his aversion to the holiday stuff.

"Hey, how are we doing over here?" The waitress stops by just in time.

You send a silent thanks to the greater powers.

After finishing up the meal mostly in silence, you're now heading toward the bar where the party was held last night. It's not too long of a walk from the restaurant, which was good for yesterday when you were trying not to freeze in your party outfit—or, well, maybe it wasn't so good since Wonwoo did pull you in and open up his coat to try to shield you from the wind with it.

What this short walk is also not good for, is today when he seems to use every opportunity to convince you to turn around.

"Are you sure you want to know, Y/N?" Wonwoo slows down his steps beside you until he's practically dragging his feet. "It's not too late to go home. We could watch that movie on your list or put up the new ornaments you bought."

His offer is so strange, not quite unlike your offer to buy him skins for his game, that you nearly accept on the spot. But as tempting as it sounds, today needs to be spent finding the potential love of your life.

You pretend to consider for a moment. "Tempting, but no," you shake your head. "I need to solve this mystery."

He doesn't say anything to that, but you don't give him a chance to before you're speeding up and heading to the next spot.

The sun has now set, and the many coloured lights of the streets are just beginning to light up as the two of you head towards the bar where the party was last night. More people are out and about; couples holding hands as they walk side by side, singles hurrying home, groups of friends heading to the Christmas market nearby. Everyone you look at could potentially be the person you were with last night.

But who could it have been? Surely it couldn't have been the worst-case scenario, your ex—you don't even think he was at the party since you've never talked about him before, but knowing Jeonghan and Joshua, they totally could've found a way to bring him there. Maybe it was the hottie, Mingyu, whose name is the only thing you can remember just because of his thousand-watt smile. Or maybe it was—

No. Your heart gives an involuntary jerk at the thought, and you have to shake your head to get rid of the idea. No, it's not possible at all.

"Y/N?" Wonwoo stops a few steps ahead of you, glancing back with concern at your abrupt stop. "You good?"

"Yeah, of course." You shoot him a quick smile but avoid his gaze. Now you definitely need to get rid of that thought.

The two of you make your way to the bar, but the search is futile the whole way. People are everywhere all around you, walking along the streets and gathered by the bar, and yet, somehow no one you look at seems to fit the picture. You see the same bartender from last night and he greets you with a wave, but his hair is much longer than what you remember about the mystery person, and his lips much thicker.

But you soon realize that the lack of resemblance isn't even the issue. At the back of the bar when you do seem to spot an attractive stranger with similar features to what you remember, your heart still sinks at the thought of having kissed them. And it's the same with every person you look at, which only means one thing: the problem is that you can't possibly imagine ever being in love with them. You can't imagine being in love with anyone other than your best friend.

It feels like hours later when the two of you finally decide to call it a day.

There's an empty bench just down the street from the bar, close enough to the Christmas market that you get a nice view of the lights when you collapse onto it. The bustle of earlier has calmed down at this late hour, though it does little to calm the nervous pulsing of your heart. You can't quite pinpoint what it is that's making your stomach twist, and it certainly doesn't help that Wonwoo is so close you can see the fresh snowflakes landing on his eyelashes and in his hair.

It'd be nice if this moment could last forever—only the two of you existing as the rest of the world is muffled by the snow.

But nothing lasts forever, and you know that you have to end this and move on with your life.

"It was someone from the party, wasn't it?" you ask tentatively. Wonwoo seems to be analyzing you when he looks over, but otherwise doesn't respond. "And you know who it is."

That earns you a nod.

"I thought so." You heave a sigh, turning away from him to stare at the lights in the distance. No wonder he seems to have been dropping hints all day—the cryptic questions, the subtle slip ups. He can be a really careful guy when he wants to be, but this time it's as if he wants you to know that he knows. And yet, the two of you still spent all day aimlessly retracing your steps. "Then why wouldn't you just tell me who it is?"

"Because," Wonwoo mumbles, "what if it's someone you don't want it to be?"

"Then it would just have been a fun time and nothing more, I guess. Why does that m—"

"What if it's someone that you can't see that way? Someone you'll never be able to have feelings for?"

The question catches you off guard. Here you are, half expecting a name drop at this point after having spent so long searching in vain—you expect him to simply tell you that this mystery person really was your ex or maybe the bartender, or maybe even Joshua himself for whatever reason. Gross. So yes, there might be a list of people you don't want it to be, but what you don't understand is why Wonwoo is making such a big deal out of it.

When you look over at him, there's a sort of apprehension written on his face that he doesn't bother hiding. And while it confuses you why he's taking this so seriously, you can also feel the growing tension in the air between you, making each ticking second veer towards a slope that you'll be unable to turn back from. You never thought this would matter so much, but it's as if everything depends on this one, singular moment. The instant when he reveals the truth.

Why would he care so much about it though? Why would it matter to him who his best friend was drunkenly making out with? Why would he be so oddly hesitant yet curious about what you thought of this person—

"What if you're disappointed by who it is?"

The memories rush back so quickly that you nearly kneel over.

Stumbling out of the bar, finding this exact bench. The world spinning in a kaleidoscopic blur of lights, the warmth of his hands guiding you. You'd sat here and teased him about his distaste for the holidays—you asked if he hated it when you brought him to the Christmas market with you every year, and if he'd much rather not help you put up the tree. You asked why he even went to the holiday party with you this year despite hating both the holidays and parties.

Then when you looked up...

"The mistletoe." You let out a gasp when you see it right above you, still in the same position it'd been in last night. The very mistletoe that you'd pointed out to Wonwoo and asked him if he hated it too.

If he hated being underneath it with you.

"You remember it now?" he asks quietly. He appears calm, stoic as usual, but it's all too easy to see that there's anxiety swimming just beneath it all.

"Yeah, it's coming back to me now. So that's why you didn't straight up tell me even though you knew all along." You nod to yourself as you put together the pieces.

"We were drunk and caught up in the moment so I didn't think you meant what you said or would even want to remember it. I was going to let you forget it, Y/N, in case you thought it was a mistake."

It all makes sense now. All of that would explain his nervous energy today, the odd questions, the sudden interest. Except there's just one more thing... "But then why did you agree to come with me and retrace our steps? You—you wanted me to remember."

He sighs and gives in with a nod. "Yeah, it was a chance to redo the day. Last night was wild and things kind of went out of control, but this way, we can do it differently. I kept hoping that maybe there's the slightest chance you really meant it, what you said about..."

About being in love with your best friend, you think, internally cringing when you can hear the words in your own voice from last night. You'd nearly screamed it out loud, and the situation was probably more than embarrassing and not pretty at all—blame it on Joshua for having this party in the first place. This was nothing like how you might've pictured confessing to a crush at all.

But as crazy and mortifying as it was, it feels almost like an inside joke, a moment that only the two of you would ever know. And when you finally manage to process what Wonwoo just said, your heart speeds up for an entirely different reason.

Hope. This is what you'd been hoping for, too.

"I meant all of it," you quickly say, diving right in before you can chicken out. "Did you? When you said that you don't hate all this holiday stuff, but actually enjoy it because it's with me? That you... feel the same way?"

"Yeah, Y/N. You have no idea how long I've been holding onto that." The tension in his body has eased and there's finally a smile on his lips, perhaps for the first time today. "And about the mistletoe right above us? I don't hate it, Y/N," Wonwoo repeats his words from last night. "Not at all."

"Ah, I see," you tease despite the hammering of your heart at what's to come. "Is that what you want to redo this day for?"

Wonwoo's smile widens. "I'd gladly redo any day if it's with you."

When the distance closes and you feel the tenderness in his touch and taste the soda on his tongue, you know that this redo of a night would be committed to memory forever.

#wonwoo fic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #my fic #if you've seen this for a diff fandom... this was the og :')#i promise i have other stuff to post!!!#but oh well at least it's fun guessing which member might be the equivalent? ahahah

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