#folijollyxmas

[foli-vora]

masterlist | foli jolly xmas list

meet the yorks

dave york x f!reader

summary: just a fucking filthy fic that is also so very soft i'm struggling to breathe.

warnings: divorced parents (Dave & Carol), soft dad!Dave with his babies, playful sarcastic!dave has me by the throat, i want this man to be my fucking husband, SMUT 18+ ONLY unprotected p in v, toy use, restraint use, spanking, brief barely-there choking, smidgen of oral (f rec), smidgen of tit play, ass play, overstimulation, squirting, cock warming

word count: 4.2k

a/n: the original idea for this was soft... i don't know what happened LMAO. usually i’d work into the smut later in the fic but we’re turning it around and jumping straight into the good shit before ending on a very soft note. enjoy! x p.s the song i chose for dancing in the kitchen is 'snowman' by sia - i'm so fucking SOFT for them together ok bye

You don’t want to stop until everything feels perfect. The tree, in all of its 8ft glory, twinkles peacefully in the lamp-lit lounge, throwing off waves of warm light that shine over the mound of presents crowding its base. Is there too many? Not enough? You fuss with the ribbons and bows on each, ensuring the labels were placed perfectly over the various shapes before straightening and chewing on your lip in thought.

A body presses into you from behind and you sigh lightly, leaning into the lips that press softly against your throat. Dave’s hands land on your waist, palms smoothing along the shape of it before he glances at the tree, smiling against your skin.

“Everything looks great,” he murmurs.

“Really?” You perk at his approval, your hands coming to land over his. “I want everything to be perfect.”

“It is,” he replies lowly, grinding softly into the swell of your ass. “You’ve worked so hard.”

“Dave,” you scold lightly with a grin, squirming in the tightening hands latched to your waist, “stop that—”

“Stop what?” He asks innocently into the skin of your throat, pressing a series of hot open mouth kisses into your flesh and pushing into your back. 

“You know what you’re doing,” you sigh lightly, head tilting to grant him better access. “I still have some things to do –”

“We’re done, you’re just being fussy.”

He’s right and you know it. You’re being pedantic. A part of you just had higher expectations of this Christmas than last year. Maybe it was the newly placed wedding band fit snug beneath your engagement ring that caused it. Maybe the idea of this Christmas being your first as an official York had birthed these little insecurities and needs of having everything picture perfect. 

The feel of him behind you has you pulling out of your thoughts before you could fall into them too deeply.

You feel the hard outline of his cock dig into your ass cheek and you’re done. You’re practically putty in his hands, unable to resist melting into his touch with an ache sparking to a flame deep in your core. He spins you softly, a brief smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he notices the way your eyes flutter already.

“I have something for you,” he murmurs, lips only inches from yours. “Have you been a good girl this year?”

A dazed smile pulls at your lips, “Nope.”

He grins, dark and wicked, “No? Good. Get upstairs.”

The feel of him shadowing you the entire rush to the bedroom brings a wash of adrenaline to your bloodstream, the wild beat of your heart practically thunder in your ears when you eventually break into the open space of your bedroom and turn to him. He’s loosening his tie when you find him striding across the room, his smirk devious as he passes you for the walk in closet.

Every second that passes, you feel the anticipation churning in the pit of your stomach grow, winding along your nerves and bringing an excited buzz to your system. You stay in place, eyes wide and eager when he eventually reappears, a sleek black box in hand.

“And you’re still dressed, why?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, eyes narrowing in on your covered frame.

You can’t move fast enough.

Buttons slip through your fingers in your haste to open them. You fumble trying to undo your bra, and you almost topple over trying to tear your pants and underwear down your legs. He watches on with a shine of amusement but makes no further comment, nodding his approval once you’re bare to his eyes.

“How do you want me?” You ask quietly, voice giving way to how breathless you feel.

He advances into your space, breath warm over your face and carrying the lingering note of sweet wine you’d shared after dinner. You dive to taste it straight from his tongue, groaning when his large hand comes to splay on your throat, his thumb digging into the soft underside of your jaw.

Kissing Dave was an experience like no other. You were powerless against his strength, against his passion. You were simply left to try and keep up, to try and return the dizzying force he methodically took you apart with again and again. 

He manoeuvres your head as he sees fit, finding the angle best for him to taste you deeply, his tongue pushing past your lips to caress your own and stealing the remaining oxygen left in your lungs with the consuming way he all but devours your mouth.

You can’t help but chase his lips when he breaks away, a noise sticking in your throat when the rough hand sitting there tightens ever so slightly in warning.

“On your knees, face the headboard. Hands behind your back.”

The bed melts under your knees as you climb onto the mattress and settle yourself as he requested. You feel him climb onto the bed behind you, your heart threatening to beat its way out of your chest with the amount of tension curling along and tightening your muscles. 

The silky soft feel of his tie drags along the skin of your wrists before it tightens with a sharp tug of his grip, and your hands flex with the sudden pressure filling them. His fingers dance along where the tie digs into your skin, ensuring it wasn’t too pulled too tight around your wrists and kissing your bare shoulder.

“Spread your legs and lean forward for me. All the way, baby.”

Your ass sinks closer to the bed as your thighs part further, the muscles in your belly and legs tightening as you bend to press your upper body into the mattress. The feeling of exposure hits you hard as your pussy parts from your position, the cool air of the bedroom hitting your dampening slit. You swear you can feel his eyes on you.

The sound of the box being opened captures your attention but you dare not move, instead left to fight the thrum of anticipation getting worse and worse with every minute that goes by without his touch on you. You can’t help but focus on every little rustle and sound behind you, trying to piece together a picture of what exactly he’s up to, but nothing prepares you for the tongue that suddenly licks a firm, wide stripe up from your clit before pushing into your cunt.

He groans into you, the firm feel of his tongue rubbing and massaging at your slick walls enough to get your hips working a little rhythm grinding back against his face as your moans melt into the sheets. He lets you work yourself up, your building arousal soaking into his tastebuds and driving him fucking wild, almost tempting him to stay right where he is and see it through to your end, but then he’s gone.

He’s pulling away and your head is flying up, a disappointed whine falling from your throat at the sudden loss of attention, words building in your mouth to all but beg him to keep going. Your cunt throbs from the loss of him, your walls fluttering and clenching with the need to be filled after having the tease of his tongue work you open.

You jolt forward from the palm that swats at your ass cheek, delivering a quick sting and shock to the system, only adding on to the borderline painful ache taking over your clit. You relish in the tingle left behind from his hand, your skin prickling and throbbing from the slap.

Something smooth runs through your folds, the feel of silicone moving against your pussy familiar and welcome. He spends a minute coating the toy in your arousal, watching the creamy shine of it smother the black surface before pushing the thick, egg-like shape of it into your cunt, while the thinner side curls up and slides up to meet your swollen clit.

The thick end fits snug and comfortable against your walls, pressing on that deliciously deep spot within you but you don’t get a moment to work out the c-shaped toy in your mind before something wet and warm hits just above the tight puckered entrance above your pussy. His thumb smears through his saliva and rubs it over your ass, teasing the muscle and working the tight entrance until the thick width of his thumb can push into it.

But again, you don’t get time to enjoy the feel of it. His touch disappears, quickly replaced by the tip of something smooth and cool to the touch. The familiar nudge of your butt plug pushes at your ass and you hold your breath with every centimetre it moves in until the base of it meets your skin, the pretty blue crystal shining from between your ass cheeks.

It’s overwhelming.

It’s wonderful.

“Always such a good girl for me,” he murmurs from behind you, the low gravel of his voice melting into your ears and sending your heart into a frenzy. “Think you can take a little more, sweetheart?”

More? What more could there possibly be?

You feel him shift on the bed, the feel of his bare thighs pressing into the backs of yours and you briefly wonder when he undressed. Your body waits, high wired and practically trembling, waiting for something, anything. The feel of the toys simply sitting in you, with nothing more to bring you any closer to the edge your body aches for, is fucking maddening and it takes everything in you not to throw something snarky at him.

The blunt end of his cock pushes along your folds, following the thin curve of silicone up to your clit before running back up to your cunt, testing the waters by giving a shallow thrust and you automatically tense from the feel of the intrusion. The toy sitting curved into your g-spot was by no means huge, but Dave was. Anything extra alongside him would surely be too much—

“Relax, baby,” he soothes, bending over you to press kisses along the hot skin of your back, “open up for me. I’ve got you.”

He waits until he feels some of the tension dissipate from your body before pushing forward again, burying his slickened cock into you slowly, inch by inch, until you feel completely full to the fucking brim, the oxygen you drag in through your parted lips catching in your throat and unable to quite fill your lungs.

“Fuck—that’s my girl,” he grits out, his hands curling around your waist and tightening until his blunt nails dig harshly into your skin, “taking it so fucking well. Come here—”

You will your body to work, focusing on putting strength back into your legs to assist his efforts as his arms wind around your torso and haul you up against his chest. It all hits you as you move, the plug pushing and rubbing deeper in your ass as the thick width of Dave splitting your cunt open and pushing the toy firmer into your g-spot brings a sting of tears to your eyes.

It’s good, it’s all so fucking good, and yet you can’t get the words out.

Your mouth opens, the words build on your tongue, but the only sounds you manage to get out are incoherent and breathless. Your hands tighten in their bounds where they press against the softness of his stomach. Your nails dig into the soft skin of your palms. You don’t know what you want, you just know you need something. 

“Let’s see here,” he reaches for something beside him, momentarily jostling you and bringing you another wave of ecstasy before he holds something in view, his chin perching on your shoulder as he gives a quiet chuckle at your pathetic choked noises.

It’s a remote, sleek and simple, fitting perfectly in the palm of his hand.

He turns it on, the lights shining beneath the soft black silicone, and you wail.

It’s not even strong, but the mixture of the gentle vibrations on your swollen clit working in tandem with the humming mass pressed against your g-spot, the full stretch of his cock in your cunt and the plug in your ass, has you seeing stars, and you know then that you’re in big fucking trouble. His hold tightens on you as he feels the walls of your cunt flutter and tighten around him, the light buzz of the toy buried in you vibrating his solid length.

“I don’t think it’s strong enough,” he mutters thoughtfully, mostly to himself as you struggle to focus on anything other than the vicious assault of feelings overwhelming you, “what do you think, baby?”

It’s rhetorical.

He ups the speed before you even manage to understand his words, let alone form a response.

The click of the button becomes torture.

Sweet torture, but torture none the less.

He increases the speed again and again, clinging to your writhing body as he relishes in the feel of it against his cock. The large span of his free hand comes to cup and weigh your tit, the rough pads of his fingers tweaking and pulling and twisting at your nipple as your body jerks and jolts from the immense, unforgiving waves of ecstasy coming from what feels like everywhere.

It hits you out of fucking nowhere.

You have no idea what’s happening until you’re already toppling over the edge, your cut off scream of surprise bouncing off the walls. Your cunt clamps down around Dave’s cock as the muscles in your ass spasm around the plug. There’s no relief. He keeps the toy on and constant, relentless against your throbbing clit and giving your body no time to come down.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

It’s fucking happening again.

You fight it.

You can’t do it. You can’t. It feels like a hurdle you’ll be unable to get over. The pressure becomes intense, churning and tightening in your core as you feel your legs start to shake. He holds onto you, fights to keep you pressed against his body. Your cum and arousal start to seep out from where his cock fills your cunt, the plug continues to fill your ass and rub along his cock through the thin wall of muscle separating them.

“Give it to me,” he grinds out, face pinching with the effort of keeping in control, “Fucking give it to me.”

He tears it out of you, rips it from the very core of you.

A blinding light takes over your vision, stealing all sense of thought and time. Your body erupts against him, around him, a searing ecstasy soaking deep into your bones as a gush of liquid spurts forth and soaks the bed. It ends it all for him. Your obscene cries, the intense thrum of the toy vibrating his length, your cunt spasming wildly around him, you making a beautiful fucking mess all over him and the bed—he’s done. 

He follows you over the edge with a rough, feral groan that melts into the sweat slickened skin of the curve of your shoulder, his cock twitching against the press of your cervix as wave after wave of cum erupts from his tip. He fills you to the brim, his release soon joining the mess of your own cum where it leaks down the skin of his balls from where your cunt wraps around him.

Thankfully you finally find relief when he meets his end, his fingers smoothing over a button on the remote and putting a stop to the wild vibrations shattering your entire fucking world. You can finally inhale then, dragging in your first proper lungful of oxygen since his attack began and it brings a wave of clarity back to your mind.

“Holy fucking shit,” you pant quietly, face tilting towards the ceiling in a show of exhaustion as his fingers tug and release the tie around your wrists. 

Dave eyes the methodical blink of the alarm clock beside the bed before kissing your throat, the curve of his nose tracing the shell of your ear as he exhales softly. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

—

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

Dave’s peaceful features briefly scrunch before his eyes crack open, immediately zeroing in on where you stand beside the bed, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a small, neatly wrapped box in the other. He goes for the coffee first, sitting up to lean on an elbow and taking a much needed mouthful of the hot beverage before giving you a little grin.

“I told you not to get me anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismiss lightly, placing the box delicately on his chest and perching beside him on the bed. “You tell me every birthday, anniversary and Christmas, and yet I ignore you every single time. Open it.”

His grin widens as he ducks to set his coffee on the side table before sitting up better and tearing into the paper. It’s a watch, a Rolex. Christ. He studies the stark black dial and luminescent hour markers, feeling the sturdy weight of it in his hands and the cool steel against his skin. He flips it, his lips tugging at the corner as his thumb brushes over the neat engraving on the back—

My heart.

“I love it,” he murmurs, slipping it over his hand and admiring the way it sits against his wrist.

A deep appreciation shines in his eyes and you feel yourself warm all over when his gaze slips to you, your heart beating that little bit harder against your chest. You hope that feeling never fades. The rough pads of his fingers pinch your chin and he brings you forward to mould his lips to yours, kissing you slowly, deeply, licking into your mouth and coaxing you to follow his lead. It takes everything in you not to melt straight into his arms and back into bed.

“Thank you, baby.”

His thumb brushes over your cheek and you peck his lips softly.

“You’re welcome, honey.”

The morning is spent mostly in the kitchen, preparing the little brunch spread you wanted ready for when Carol dropped the girls off. Christmas music falls from the small bluetooth speaker on the counter and laughter often mixes with it, with you fighting Dave’s wandering hands as you cook, evading the palms he aims for your ass and dancing out of his grip whenever he presses into you from behind.

He grins at the game and ups his efforts, crowding you into the icy shelves of the refrigerator and taking advantage of you stuck at the stove flipping pancakes, dipping to press a series of hot, open mouth kisses along your throat and tightening his hands low on your hips until you’re arching back into him.

The doorbell saves you from potentially burning anything by Dave’s attempts at distraction, and you quickly place the pancakes and waffles into the pre-warmed oven before following Dave to the door. Alice launches herself forward the second it opens, jumping eagerly into Dave’s ready arms with a squeal, Molly quickly following and pressing herself into his free side.

You leave the three to enjoy each other's greetings and move for Carol, giving her a friendly smile and a warm hug. “Merry Christmas, Carol.”

“And you,” she returns sweetly. “And thank you for the wine.”

“Oh, you’re more than welcome, it was only something sm—oh!’

A little body tackling you from the side throws you off balance and you laugh lightly, wrapping your arms around Alice and soaking up her excited giggles, saying a quick goodbye to Carol as the girls pull you towards the lounge. Dave stays behind to see Carol off and you kneel by the tree and gifts, cheeks aching from your smile as the girls shift restlessly on the floor.

“Daddy, hurry up!” Alice cries.

“Patience is a virtue, young lady,” he grins, walking into the room and settling himself next to you with a groan. “Alright, who’s first?”

The girls take turns tearing into their gifts, creating a mountain of wrapping paper and torn cardboard as they release their toys from the boxes. Dave slides an envelope to you, giving you a secret smile as the girls busy themselves in the background.

“What’s this?”

A playful frown deepens his features, “You didn’t think that was the thing I got you, did you?”

You think back to the sleek c-shaped toy Dave had shown you once you had relaxed into the pillows after he had cleaned you up last night, or rather, early this morning. A heat washes along your chest and fills your cheeks. 

“I’ll have you know I was more than happy with last night’s present.”

His grin turns devious, “I bet.”

You tear into the envelope carefully and open the card within, your chest tightening with fondness at the neat script wishing you a Merry Christmas and the simple I love you penned beneath it. Dave was a man of very few words when it came to the emotional side of a relationship, but you knew he meant the words he did say with pure sincerity and a full heart.

A neatly folded piece of paper hangs stapled on the opposite side, and you pry it open in curiosity, a quick wave of excitement rolling through you when you read over the destination on the printed plane ticket.

“Paris?”

“And London,” he murmurs, “and Venice, and Amsterdam… we’re gone for over a month.”

“A month? But your work—”

He shrugs, grinning. “Susan insisted, and you know what she’s like. She won’t have me back any earlier.”

“The girls—”

“—are meeting us in Venice after we have a bit of time to ourselves.”

You hurl yourself at him, pouring every bit of appreciation into the kiss you press to his lips, smiling at the disgusted noises the girls make. He returns the kiss softly, cupping your cheek and licking teasingly at your bottom lip before breaking away and pressing his forehead against yours.

“Is that okay?”

“Is that okay?” You parrot sarcastically, slapping at his chest. “Of course it is! It’s amazing, honey, thank you.”

The girls choose to have brunch on the floor in the lounge under the sparkle of the tree, making a makeshift picnic over the rug and telling you of their presents from Carol and her partner Sam, and the ones Santa had left in sacks beside the tree. Alice tells her sweet story of preparing milk and cookies the night before, ensuring to also have nine carrots out for the reindeer.

She blinks at Dave from where she sits on the kitchen counter, snacking on a now cold waffle, asking if he knew the reindeer’s names. He thinks for a moment, wiping over and drying the plate in his hold before listing them out confidently.

“You’re missing two.”

Dave frowns at your words, his sharp eyes landing on you where you stand at the sink.

“Fuck.”

Molly snorts next to Dave, grinning at the apologetic look he throws her way as he passes along the plate for her to put away.

“That’s a bad word, daddy!” Alice scolds sharply, pointing accusingly at him. 

“It is, I’m sorry, baby.”

He ducks forward to press a kiss to her forehead and she forgives him with a little nod of her head.

“Come on,” you coax, grinning, “name them all.”

Dave’s jaw rolls and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, staring at you as if seeing the thoughts run across your features. Your face remains void of any clue, your cheeks giving way to an ache the longer your lips spread pulled into a grin at his expense. He takes the dripping dish from your hands and runs the towel over it with a purse of his lips.

“Dancer, Cupid, Dasher—”

“Rudolph,” Alice reminds him around a mouthful of waffle.

“Rudolph, thank you, baby—” he nods thankfully at her, “—Vixen, Blitzen, Prancer…”

He rolls into silence, irritation tugging at his face and your brow raises expectantly.

“Fuck,” he grits out in growing annoyance.

Both you and Molly dissolve into laughter as she takes the dish from Dave, while Alice reprimands him again. He swoops to snatch her from the counter, sitting her on his hip and swinging her around gently, murmuring another apology into her hair as he starts to sway to the music filling the kitchen.

She giggles into his shoulder and wraps her little arms around his neck, moving to the music in his arms.

Molly’s hands tug at your own arm and you let her pull you into the space next to Dave and Alice, holding your wet hands and ducking under your arm in a makeshift spin.

You grin and spin her in the opposite direction before dancing her around the kitchen, oblivious to the way Dave watches you fondly over the top of Alice’s head.

It’s not long before you all meet in the middle, a mess of arms tangling around bodies and huddling closely together, moving gently to the new, softer song falling from the speakers.

You catch Dave’s gaze and smile, murmuring a quiet Merry Christmas and soaking in sweet tenderness drowning the group of you.

-

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena​, @lv7867​, @dihra-vesa​, @katronautt​, @radiowallet​, @januarystears​, @missminkylove​, @beskarprincessjenny​, @mswarriorbabe80​, @danidrabbles​, @sergeantbannerbarnes​, @amneris21​, @eri16​, @absurdthirst​, @hnt-escape​, @acourtofsnakes​, @ezrasbirdie​, @mstgsmy​, @lovesbiggerthanpride​, @coaaster​, @sherala007​, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44​, @wyn-n-tonic​, @you-got-me-starry-eyed​, @shirks-all-responsibilities​, @withasideofmeg​, @harriedandharassed​, @andruxx​, @buckybarneshairpullingkink​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future​, @tanzthompson​, @mad-girl-without-a-box​, @hope-for-the-best-98​, @fangirl-316​, @christina-loves​, @jediknight122​, @hallway5​, @xoxabs88xox​, @nicolethered​, @churchill356​, @massivecolorspygiant​, @just-here-for-the-moment​, @gracie7209​, @pinkie289​, @lavenderluna10​, @goodgriefitsawildworld​, @juletheghoul​, @punkerthanpascal​, @itswanktime​, @karolydulin​, @pedrostories​, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere​, @cannedsoupsucks​, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair​, @alexxavicry​, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist​, @outercrasis​, @thisshipwillsail316​, @toxicfrankenstein​, @hotchlover​, @ew-erin​, @mishasminion360​, @jitterbugs927​, @penelopeimp​, @woodland-mist​, @pedro-pastel​, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell​, @1andthesame​, @elegantduckturtle​, @captain-jebi​, @magpie-to-the-morning​, @sharkbait77​, @sleep-tight1​, @musings-of-a-rose​, @karlawithacapitalk​, @woomen23​, @frasmotic​, @songsformonkeys​, @loonymagizoologist​, @aynsleywalker​, @ruhro7​, @bluestuesday​, @what-iwish-you-knew​, @princess-djarinn​, @totallynotastanacc​, @girlofchaos​, @pjkimrn​, @bangaveragewhitewine​, @trickstersp8​, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate​, @ms-loverman-066​, @bunniwarrior​, @detectivecarisi-1​, @tintinn16​, @iceclaw101​, @bport76​, @thatpinkshirt​, @tusk89​, @withakindheartx​, @curiouskeyboard​, @pedropascalsx​, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance​, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx​, @dnxgma​, @astronomeoww​, @dindjarinswhore​, @alwaysdjarin​, @mando-amando​, @mx-ferelden​, @trinkets01​, @jxvipike​, @thesmutslut​, @thereisaplaceintheheart​, @scentedthingtidalwave​, @mwltwo, @loveslide​

dave york tags: @sanfransolomitatm​, @pedrohoe04​, @evyiione​, @for-my-satisfaction​, @androah​, @naughtynecromancer​, @flamesocks​, @lawfulgranola​, @dins-cyare, @clydesducktape​, @f*cklife_imdreaminghere, @littleone65, @flamesocks​, @curiouser-an-curiouser​, @h-hxgirl

so many aren’t working, idk why.

[foli-vora]

masterlist | foli jolly xmas list

my only wish: part one

jack daniels x single mum f!reader

summary: typical hallmark movie. he’s never been one for christmas - he hates the tacky decorations and the ear drilling music, but maybe the owner of a small town bakery and her children will change that.

warnings: mentions of drugging/use of sedatives, minecraft talk, swearing, nothing really to note yet, but this story is rated explicit so is strictly 18+ ONLY.

word count: 4.1k

a/n: gif by moi. happy december! christmas is officially within reach and i am fucking buzzing. i originally started this last year but with the arrival of mini foli, i never got around to working on it/finishing it sooo better late than never i guess? lmao. cringe cheesy hallmark romance coming right up! i hope you angels enjoy x

“It’s fuckin’ November.”

Jack glares at it, picking up his distorted reflection in the absurdly large golden baubles being clipped onto the branches and curling his nose slightly at the ruffle of cheap tinsel as it gets draped and wound around the thick body of the tall tree. He studies it with a heavy air of judgement, deciding very quickly that it’s tacky.

What’s with the plastic shit nowadays? Where are the real trees? The ones that throw off heady waves of pine and shed their dry needles all over the damn floor?

And why the hell is everyone so hell bent on celebrating Christmas so damn prematurely? What’s the rush? Everyone celebrates through November and it leaves no excitement for December. By the time Christmas eventually rolls around, surely everyone’s sick of trees and gaudy decorations and that damn chirpy ear drilling music —

Tequila tsks lightly, slapping his friend's arm affectionately as he continues on to Champ’s office.

“Aw, c’mon man, don’t be a grinch! Gotta get that Christmas spirit flowin’.”

He was a Christmas person, Whiskey discovered. December the year they met, partnership still fresh and admittedly unstable, the man had been humming Christmas songs and munching on gingerbread and candy canes like they were going out of fashion. If it wasn’t for his damn good company and decent sense of humour, Whiskey probably would’ve requested a transfer.

Whiskey grunts, tearing his eyes away from the bright and merry decorations and following along after, fingers running along his belt and tucking in any stray untucked pieces of shirt that had rucked up during his walk. 

“I ain’t a grinch – it’s November. Act accordingly.”

Tequila’s still laughing and poking at the so-called Scrooge when they breeze past Champ’s ever busy secretary and into his office, delivering a breezy two fingered salute as the man in question turns from gazing out of the floor to ceiling window running along the length of the room.

Champ eyes them both seriously, features pulled into tight scrutiny, before he smacks his lips quietly and levels his gaze on Jack.

“You still stealing gifts and telling kids Santa ain’t real?”

Tequila hides a snort in his palm and Jack gives a little glower, unable to keep his lips from twitching.

“I’d never.”

Champ’s face eventually breaks into a grin and he gives a low chuckle, lowering himself into his chair with a small exhale that blows out from around the press of his lips.

“I will admit I’ve never seen the appeal of celebrating a month early.”

“Thank you,” Jack’s head rolls to eye Tequila critically.

The man remains unbothered and lets his shoulders lift into a small shrug, a grin stretched across his lips. “I don’t even care. The second spooky season ticks over midnight on October 31st? It’s Christmas.”

“You’re a damn embarrassment.”

“Man, you love me.”

“Fellas,” Champ rumbles with mirth and catching both men's attention, “enough now. Shall we get to it?”

Time rolls by as Champ gives Tequila his next mission and Jack listens attentively, throwing in his opinion when asked and preparing for whatever is coming his way next, but in a strange turn of events, nothing comes. He frowns as Champ finishes up the meeting, slipping the thick framed glasses from his nose and throwing them softly onto his desk.

“Uh, sir?” His confusion only grows when it becomes clear Champ had nothing for him. “What about me?”

“What about you? You are takin’ some leave – startin’ this afternoon,” Champ says, reclining into the aged leather upholstered backrest and watching the deepening twist of Whiskey’s features with a shine of amusement.

Leave? Is he being stood down? He wasn’t aware of any misdemeanours or wrongdoings during the latest missions — everything had gone smoothly, despite the minimal hiccups along the way… but that wasn’t anything unusual, hiccups were a part of the job. He hadn’t been reprimanded for any decision or direction…

Do they find him lacking? Sure, his back protests every now and then, but he was still in his prime. He had years left, with aims to get somewhere higher up when he could no longer do field work. Do they think he doesn’t have it in him anymore?

An odd feeling of desperation builds in the pit of his stomach. This is his life. What would he do without it?

“Sir, I assure you I’m more than capable of handlin’ any assignment –”

“I know that,” Champ cuts in, soft and reassuring, “but you’ve accumulated quite the collection of vacation hours.”

Whiskey blinks in bewilderment, “... and?”

“You’re a workaholic,” Tequila whispers teasingly, lips tugging up into an amused side grin. “Means you need to get a hobby, man.”

“I have hobbies,” he snips in return, defensive.

Silence overcomes the office space and it feels slightly stifling. He swallows, readjusting himself in the seat to sit straighter as his eyes dart between the disbelieving expressions of both Tequila and Champ, and what makes it worse is nothing comes to mind as quickly as Jack needs to prove them wrong.

There’s not a damn thing to back up his argument. Does he work too much? Maybe. That’s not a bad thing – he’s damn good at his job. Sure, he spends more time out in the field than at his home, but again, that’s not a bad thing… he’s just busy. What does it matter, anyways?

Their brows raise, sensing their little victory, and Jack wets his lips, ready to deflect.

“Why’re you so interested in what I do in my free time anyway? I’m fine, I like to keep busy.”

“There’s keepin’ busy, and then there’s overdoin’ it,” Champ says in disapproval. “We’re not havin’ one of our best agents work himself into the damn ground. You’re takin’ a vacation and that’s it.”

In search of some back up on the matter, Whiskey exhales softly through his nose and lets his eyes roll to his partner, who remains uncharacteristically quiet. Tequila pointedly avoids his gaze and takes an interest in picking at his cuticles as he slumps down in his chair. 

“You in on this?” Jack accuses, a twinge of irritation grating his tone.

Tequila blinks innocently, his eyes finally meeting his friends. “What? ‘course not.”

Giving a quiet grunt, Whiskey turns back to Champ and sighs.

“And if I refuse?”

They can’t fire him, they wouldn’t. Would he be stood down? No field work for so many weeks? Couldn’t he just gift his vacation hours to someone else? Hell, Tequila loves any excuse to get away —  he’d give them all to him if it meant still working like normal.

Champ smiles, anticipating his reluctance.

“Ginger’ll activate the sedative Tequila here put in your drink and we’ll see you right to your accommodations.”

Jack's eyes snap back to his partner, his nostrils flaring.

Tequila smiles guiltily, “Merry Christmas?”

—

Glen Ridge is a small town with a modest population, but was surprisingly open and welcoming to tourists, used frequently by travellers for its snowy peaks just bordering the town centre.

With the centre buried deep in the valley, the mountains provide a pretty picture no matter what street you walk along, and the thick forests sprawling opposite give a sense of comfortable seclusion, like you were closed away from the world in a wonderful little winter paradise.

Even Jack can’t deny the roll of calm that overtakes his body as he enters the town limits, taking in the smiley faces along the sidewalk and the charming old school feel of the shops and cafes lined along the road.

It’s picturesque, practically straight out of a movie.

His cabin has the same feel much like the town did — old, comfortable, cosy. The timber structure of it was nestled amongst some towering trees, with a wonderfully creaky porch swing sat stationary on the porch. Inside reflected the out, with stained timber shiplap walls stretching towards the tall cathedral ceilings running throughout.

It was nice. As far as accommodations go, it wasn’t bad for a forced vacation.

He wanders, finding the bathroom, and then the master bedroom, the large what looked to be handmade king bed looking wonderfully welcoming with a hand stitched throw, thick duvet and fluffy pillows. No, not bad at all.

There’s a single bottle of Statesman Whiskey sat centre on the kitchen countertop, with a large emerald coloured envelope perched against it. He eyes it in vague curiosity, and plucks it from the stone top before fingering the envelope flap out of the way and pulling a card free.

An overly joyful cartoon reindeer greets him and he grunts at it, rolling his eyes and flicking the card open, wincing at the sudden screech of Christmas music playing loudly from it.

Merry Christmas, Ebenezer. Don’t be pissed at me. Enjoy your break, old man. 

The icy resentment that had grown in the pit of his stomach cracks slightly, giving way to an affectionate warmth and understanding. Sure, he’d been pissed at the kid for not giving him a heads up and slipping him a sedative, but Tequila had meant no harm or cruelty. He wasn’t built like that, not with those who meant something to him.

Regret tugs at his insides the more his eyes trace the words. He didn’t say goodbye before he left, admittedly quite sour over being practically forced out of work. He wasn’t going to be humiliated by being sedated and carried to his vacation spot, and the irritation over the situation had only grown as he cleaned up his desk and passed along the work he still needed to complete to other agents.

It felt wrong.

He hadn’t even been allowed to take any of his usual work tech from the office. No laptop, no tablet… hell, Ginger even put locks on his phone. He wouldn’t be able to reach the Statesmen headquarters, or any other agents privately, and vice versa. He was truly on his own, with no temptation of work clouding his mind and keeping him from enjoying some down time.

He doesn’t even know where to start.

Jack sighs as he wanders back into the main area, his hands finding his hips as he looks around his lodgings, taking in the cosy feel of the lounge and the vacant fireplace, soot and flame remnants licking up the brick.

“Well,” he drawls dryly to himself, “now what?”

— 

“Just in town for a few weeks,” he smiles at the stranger, jaw clenching with the effort of keeping the growing irritation out of his features.

It’s the same answers over and over. The townsfolk were incredibly kind and open, often stopping along their way to ask how he is, what he’s in town for and how long is he staying, but with each question having the same direction as the ones asked by previous passersby, the small talk gets old fast. 

He lingers in the cereal aisle of the small grocery store, smile turning somewhat stiff as the conversation moves on, answering any other questions directed towards him with a patient expression. Are you single? What do you do for work? Have you travelled much? Where are you from?

Despite the impatience steadily building in his system, he ensures to keep his attitude easy and charming, quickly winning over the trio of elderly ladies crowding him into the breakfast foods until they seemed satisfied with the information he had provided.

His cheeks ache from the force of keeping up appearances and he ensures to make it quick upon leaving the store with his groceries, ducking his head and hiding behind the yellow tint of his sunglasses to avoid meeting any other strangers’ eyes who seemed keen for a chat. 

It almost works.

“Hey mister, would you like to buy a cookie?”

Jack’s steps falter at the younger voice, and his head turns to find a boy standing behind a little foldout table just outside the sliding store doors. His eyes drop to study the individually bagged gingerbread men, each obviously decorated by the hands of a child with uneven icing and odd designs.

“He don’t look much like a festive gingerbread man,” Jack says, pointing to a particular cookie and the bright blue icing covering it in some sort of blocked blob.

“That’s because he’s wearing diamond armour,” the kid replies frankly, the silent duh obvious in his tone.

What the fuck is diamond armour?

“Is that right? You do these yourself?”

“My mum bakes them – she’s got a bakery. I decorated them, though. I made the icing, too. My sister says she likes it. She’s kinda why I’m selling them – I want to buy her the doll she’s wanted all year.”

“That’s real good of you, kid. She’s lucky to have a brother like you.”

“So…?”

“So what?”

“You gonna buy a cookie or what?”

Jack snorts in amusement, shaking his head. “Maybe another day.”

“You’re gonna say no to a kid trying to do something nice for his baby sister? It’s Christmas, mister.”

“And?”

“Well,” the boy shifts, a small frown pinching his brows, “what if I don’t have enough for her doll? I’m trying to do it all by myself and I made her a promise, but if I break my promise she’ll be crying on Christmas and I would’ve let her down and I can’t let her down because I’m her big brother and she should be able to believe in me and if I can’t do this, then she won’t talk to me and I love my sister and I want her to talk to me and… and —”

Tears build in his eyes.

His lower lip startles to wobble. 

Ah, hell.

First day in town and he’s already making a kid cry. Tequila would never let him live this down if he knew. A quick look around tells him no one had caught him terrorising a child — yet — so he juggles the bag of groceries into one arm and dives a hand into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Alright, kid, alright… I’ll take the fancy diamond fella.”

It’s funny how quick the tears dry up once the money is handed over and stashed in the little tin covered in cartoon stickers. He’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book – hook, line, and sinker.

The kid grins in triumph, popping a small blue bubble of gum between his lips and Jack frowns playfully at him, unable to stop the pull of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well played, kid. Does that kind of stuff work a lot on your mama?”

The boy shrugs loosely, popping another bubble of blue gum. “Nope, stopped working on her years ago. Works all the time on strangers in lame cowboy hats, though.”

The brief wave of surprise gives way to a heavy flood of amusement and a laugh rumbles from deep in Jack’s chest, his grin widening, “You’re alright, kid. What’s your name?”

“Gabe,” the boy grins in return, cheeks creasing with dimples.

“Gabe,” Jack hums, “I got my eye on you. You’re lucky I don’t string you up like a Christmas ham for insultin’ my favourite Stetson. Am I free to leave now, or are you gonna trick me into buyin’ more?”

“Depends… how much money you got?”

Jack laughs again, shaking his head and continuing on his way, tucking the blue man into his grocery bag and grinning at the loud goodbye Gabe shouts after him.

—

You eye the handsome stranger from your place in the kitchen, unbothered as flour flicks up from the bowl in your hands and dusts the front of your apron. He’s alone as far as you can see, and when you squint extra hard, you find no ring on his finger when his hand rises to fix the Stetson perched on his head.

A cowboy?

And a very pretty one at that. 

“You’re making a mess,” comes an amused murmur next to you, and your eyes immediately fall away from the cowboy and drop to the noticeable catastrophe in your hands.

“Oh, fuck!”

Most of the mixture had flicked out of the bowl due to the distraction currently standing at your shop counter studying the treats on display. José chuckles, a wet cloth already in his hands and he gently ushers you to the side to take care of the small disaster. 

“Go on, go talk to him,” he grins, wiping your mess away and chuckling lowly at your wide eyed panic. 

It’s the possibility of embarrassing yourself that keeps your feet firmly planted in the safety of the kitchen. You were… shaky at best, your experiences with men lacking after focusing on nothing but the kids and the bakery for the last few years. You preferred it that way, you think. No distractions.

You didn’t have room for someone in your life then, especially after everything. You didn’t have the patience to foster a new connection at that point in your life, you didn’t have time to dedicate to another… but you can't deny the ache of loneliness that surrounds your heart now. The focus and dedication of building a new life came at a cost, and the empty feel of a bed every night reminded you of that harsh fact.

“No, no I can’t. Besides Stacy’s already doing a great job of—”

“Stacy, I need your help back here!” José calls before you can stop him.

Startled, your head whips back to the front of the store.

“No, no, no—”

It’s too late.

You hear Stacy politely excuse herself from assisting the handsome cowboy and then she’s entering the kitchen with a smile, more than happy to be dragged away to a fresh batch of pies by an all too smug José. You give him a soft glare and sigh, wiping your hands down the front of your apron and stepping out into the front, not wanting to keep your customer waiting for too long.

“Hi,” you greet politely, heart picking up a bit in your chest as his eyes fly to you, “sorry about that. How can I help you?”

His smile is rich and warm when he looks at you, and it’s impossible to not let the small bud of attraction building in the pit of your stomach grow stronger. He straightens, the leather jacket hanging from his shoulders parting around the thick burgundy scarf wound around his throat as his hands bury in the front pocket of his dark denim jeans.

“Hey darlin’, I’m after s—”

It’s typical. Of course something would have to go wrong, someone would have to interrupt. It’s so typical you should’ve expected it, but you still jump in surprise. The door slams open and Gabe rushes in with a loud “Hi Mum!”, bringing a sharp breeze of icy air into the shop, before running back behind the counter and brushing past you to dump his school bag in the corner. 

“Hi baby. I’m so sorry,” you murmur, turning back to the man, heat washing along under your skin as the stranger’s eyes dart between you and Gabe, “this is my son.”

A grin slowly forms on the strangers lips, and your stomach tightens at the sight of it.

“Yeah,” he drawls deeply, “we’ve met.”

Apparently only just now bothering to notice that you had a customer and were in the middle of serving him, Gabe perks at his voice. His body straightens and he openly grins at the stranger, obviously pleased to see him and your brows furrow lightly in confusion.

“Hi, lame cowboy!”

Your confusion evaporates.

You’re mortified.

“Gabriel!”

Your son had always been… lax with his verbal filter, but never at the level of insulting strangers. What is he playing at? The heat in your cheeks grows until they throb, and you fight the urge to run back to the protection of the kitchen.

Leave it to your son to insult the first truly attractive, seemingly unattached, man to walk into town in what feels like years.

“I’m so s—”

“No, no – he’s fine,” the stranger quickly cuts in, his smile still friendly and your internal alarm calms slightly. “It was a comment from our conversation yesterday.”

“He bought the diamond armour gingerbread man,” Gabe explains. “Did you like it?”

The stranger looks down at him, a more serious expression overtaking his features. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, kid… hand on my heart, it was the best damn gingerbread man I’ve ever had.”

Your insides twist at the compliment, thrilled that he enjoyed something you had baked, and a self satisfied smile threatens to spread across your lips. His eyes fly to meet yours and your smile turns somewhat shy under his approving gaze, the teasings of his own smile causing the corners of his lips to twitch.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you say softly, heart running wild.

His lips part, but Gabe beats him to the punch.

“Did you want another one? I have some leftover from yesterday – hold on, wait right there!”

Gabe turns and disappears into the kitchen without another word. Silence falls over you and the handsome stranger, but it doesn’t seem to feel uncomfortable… in fact, it’s quite the opposite. You give another small smile when your eyes meet, relishing in the warmth running along under your skin.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” you note with a tone of interest, leaning against the counter. “Are you just passing through…?”

“Jack,” he supplies with an easy smile, “Jack Daniels.”

“Like the whiskey?”

His smile widens, and he turns to lean a hip against the front of the counter casually. You become hyper aware of the fact that there’s just the width of the counter between you and it does nothing to calm the flutter of butterflies building in the pit of your stomach. 

“Exactly like the whiskey. I’ve got a cabin for the holidays… boss decided I work too much.”

You laugh softly, head tilting as you appraise him, studying each line and crease of his face with appreciation. “Well, do you?”

Jack gives a small unbothered shrug, a deep chuckle oozing with guilt falling from his throat. “Probably, but I got nothin’ else to do so it keeps me busy. Plus those bills won’t stop comin’ in.”

“I know the feeling,” you reply.

Your index finger dances along the cool countertop as you deliberate your next question, clinging to the small wave of confidence you've been riding since stepping out of the back.

“Does your other half not think anything of your work habits?”

You hope the way the question is phrased doesn’t come across as completely fucking obvious, but you know you’ve failed when a wider grin starts to pull at his lips, something more playful seeping into his eyes. His gaze flickers over your face, briefly dropping to your lips before rolling back up to meet yours and the small action comes to settle low in your stomach.

“No other half to complain about it, I’m afraid,” Jack replies wistfully, and it’s exactly what you want to hear.

“Oh,” you breathe softly, tongue coming out to wet your lips, “that’s too bad.”

Gabe reappears in the next moment, halting whatever direction that particular conversation was heading, and you smile softly at him, stepping aside to let him lay the remaining gingerbread men on the counter. He quietly orders them into a neat line before looking expectantly at Jack, his fingers tangling together in waiting.

The man in question studies each man carefully, lips pursing in thought as he bends to get a closer look.

“I’ll tell you what, kid,” he murmurs, crossing his arms on the counter and levelling his gaze with Gabe’s, “I’ll take ‘em all and give you a nice tip for your great service, and you go buy your sister that doll — deal?”

Gabe hurriedly nods, his lips stretching into a wide grin as he eagerly shakes the hand Jack holds out to him. You warm further at the kind gesture, unable to stop the ache of your smile as Gabe eagerly packs the cookies into a bag and accepts the offered cash with a heartfelt thank you, his giddiness obvious as he beams up at Jack.

“You both take care now,” Jack smiles, his Stetson dipping as he gives a nod of farewell.

Cowboy.

“Don’t be a stranger, Jack,” you call to him, welcoming Gabe into your side as he presses himself close to you.

Jack half turns as he leaves, giving you a radiant final smile that you're sure will haunt your thoughts for the rest of the day.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”

-

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80,@danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, 

jack daniels tags: @pedrohoe04, @stardust-galaxies, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @dins-cyare, @eatommo, @serini-ty, @bbyanarchist, @raphaelaisabella​, @breakfastonpluto19, @churchofrain​, @joelmiller81​, @h-hxgirl, @mischiefnevermanaged94​,

[foli-vora]

masterlist | foli jolly xmas list

my only wish: part two

jack daniels x single mum f!reader

summary: typical hallmark movie. he’s never been one for christmas - he hates the tacky decorations and the ear drilling music, but maybe the owner of a small town bakery and her children will change that.

warnings: this man. this man is a warning. this is soft. S O F T. i have heart eyes. swearing, more minecraft shit, almost kisses, yearning, the good stuff hits next chap (18+)

word count: 5866

a/n: gif by moi. so this is a combo of part 2 & 3 and it's fucking late because i'm so fucking busy and have fallen so fucking behind i want to cry. i will forever apologise for the utter shitstorm this month has turned out to be. catch me fighting off the burn out til at least mid january lmao. this made me so disgustingly soft. enjoy!

His first morning, after an admittedly restless sleep, he was wide awake and ready to go at 6am – his body clock just used to waking early to get a start on the working day. He takes a shower, has a coffee, wipes down the already clean counters and stares outside the kitchen window for an hour.

He flicks through the books left behind by previous tourists lining some of the shelves in vague interest, but none appeal enough to him to laze about on the couch as he had hoped. He flicks through the channels on the mounted TV, but finds nothing intriguing enough to watch. He moves for the porch swing, the icy air biting at his cheeks, and rocks in the creaky seat, trying desperately to just be.

It’s not too bad, he supposes. It’s a calm he doesn’t get to experience a lot, especially seeing as he constantly bounces between Kentucky and Manhattan. There’s not a whole lot of nature to soak up from his penthouse in the city, and he never bothers to hang around long at his ranch at home. When was the last time he put his riding boots on? 

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

No, it’s not bad at all. He’s been in much, much worse predicaments. Maybe it was a good thing to put his feet up after doing back to back missions for God knows how long. Lord knows his body needs a damn good rest, but how could he shut his mind off? 

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

It’s only for a few weeks, and then he’ll be able to dive right back into it. Maybe Champ will already have something lined up for him. Did Rum file those papers correctly? Has Cointreau taken over his Manhattan office for the time being? She’d better not kill his peace lily, she’s incapable of keeping a plant alive for longer than a week…

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

“Fucking Christ,” he grits out to himself, deciding to give up on the swing and marching back indoors, wondering just how long it would be before he loses his entire fucking mind.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Was it always this hard? Any other normal person would delight in taking a vacation, would relish in having nothing to do but lounge around and soak up the peace and quiet. Why is it so damn hard for him? 

He grabs his jacket and keys before locking up the cabin and heading into town, deciding to stroll the streets and window shop to fill some time, maybe even take a wander past the bakery. Purely for the treats and not the pretty thing he’d been pleasantly surprised with yesterday.

Didn’t even get a name, and he only realised when he got back to the comfort of his Bronco. He couldn’t just waltz back in there and ask like an idiot… maybe he could persuade the kid to give him some information. Should be easy enough to convince with a couple of dollars if the last two interactions with him were anything to go by.

He frowns out of the windshield as he drives, wondering if he’s really lost that much game he’s resorting to bribing a kid for things he could quite easily get the answers to himself. This wasn’t a job — a quick flirt and seduce for the sake of a mission… this could be a real thing, no matter how brief due to him not being in town for long.

He was coming here as Jack, not Agent Whiskey.

There’s a slight pressure there in the back of his mind that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

—

“He should come over for dinner,” Gabe mumbles around a mouthful of muffin, crumbs spilling from his lips and raining over his sweater. “I want him to meet Snickers.”

A few crumbs fall to the freshly cleaned floor beside you where you kneel on the cold tiles and you scowl lightly at them before returning your attention to the decorations in your hands, rifling through the tangled pile of lights and signs until you find what you’re looking for.

“We barely know the man,” you reply after a moment of fiddling, tearing through tape with your teeth and sticking your Merry Christmas banner to the front of the counter, taping around the edges to ensure it sticks. “We can’t just invite a stranger over, Gabe.”

No matter how pretty said stranger is. You’d be lying if you hadn’t had Jack lingering in the back of your mind since meeting him yesterday. He was quite a hard man to forget, what with his strong, handsome features and warm charismatic presence. Apparently you’re not the only one who thinks such—

“He’s very handsome,” Edith murmurs, smiling thankfully at Stacy as the young blonde places her usual tea and pastry in front of her. “Betty said he’s available, too.”

You chuckle quietly, turning your attention to Edith where her small, aged frame hunches slightly in her thick winter coat. 

“You on the market, Edith?” You grin cheekily, giving her a little wink. “He looks like he’d be a good handful.”

“Oh, you never know, pet. I did just have my hip replaced.”

A snort tears its way from your throat before you laugh, your smile widening as her own chuckle fills the shop. Gabe’s eyes move between you both, a growing frown of confusion deepening between his brows.

“I don’t get it.”

“Never you mind, young man,” Edith smiles, sipping delicately at her tea.

“Mi amor, you wound me! I thought I was your only one!” Jose cries, walking out from the kitchen and sliding a fresh tray of various slices into the display case before waltzing over to her with a playful frown. “And now you leave me for some cowboy? My heart aches—”

“Oh you,” Edith murmurs warmly, melting into the embrace he gives her from behind her chair and patting the arm he has across her chest fondly. “You’ll always be my favourite.”

“That’s more like it,” he returns indulgently, planting a kiss on her temple before straightening up and returning to the kitchen. He pokes the side of your head as he passes, grinning at your swat of annoyance. “And you? He won’t be a stranger if you invite him over and get to know him.”

Gabe makes a garbled noise of agreement after shoving the remaining muffin into his mouth. “Exactly! He’ll always be a stranger if we don’t give him a chance, and h—Cowboy!”

You roll your eyes, on the brink of telling him not to be so loud in the shop when Jack’s sudden deep chuckle has you fumbling with the tape in your hands before it could drop to the floor from your surprise.

A quick glance over your shoulder confirms that he’s here in the flesh, stepping into the shop and sliding the yellow tinted glasses from his nose with a charming half grin tugging at his lips.

Speak of the devil himself.

“Glad to know you’ve dropped the ‘lame’ title for me, kid.”

“Mum said it was rude,” Gabe shrugs lightly.

At your mention, Jack’s attention falls on you and your reaction is immediate. It’s like that sweet high school crush all over again. Your heart quickens as a small thrill rolls through your body, humming along your nerves and causing the muscles of your stomach to tighten in delight.

He nods politely, the rim of his Stetson briefly ducking over his features, and you grin at the greeting, rising unsteadily from your spot and inconspicuously wiping your hands down the front of your apron to dampen the sting of sweat biting at your palms. 

“Are you here for more gingerbread already? I haven’t made any new ones yet so you’ll have to wait til later,” Gabe says frankly, lips pressing into a line as he gazes up at him.

“Now that’s a real shame,” Jack drawls, a frown pulling at his features as his arms cross over his chest. “I was lookin’ forward to one of them fancy diamond fellas of yours.”

Gabe suddenly brightens, seemingly struck with quite an idea, and you feel the trickling of dread begin to grow along your shoulders. It’s never good when he gets that shine in his eyes… God, what is he up to now?

“We could make them together! It would be so much fun with all of us! Can’t we, mum?”

Where is he going with this? Of course you could, but would Jack even want to? He could just be playing nice after all, and now Gabe’s practically cornering him into something he doesn’t want to do. Would Jack be too polite to decline? Maybe you should swoop in before he gets too uncomfortable.

You shift slightly, eyes quickly darting to Jack. “I mean… yeah, but I don’t thi—”

Gabe grins, “Cool! Come over tonight, okay Cowboy? You can meet Lou and Snickers! Do you promise? Promise me!”

“Whoa hey, slow down, kid,” Jack grins, holding his hand out in a calming manner. “That’s not your decision to make. You gotta talk these things through with your mama before you go makin’ plans.”

“Mum,” Gabe whines, whirling on the spot. “He has to come over tonight. You were just talking about having him over for dinner—”

“Is that so?” Jack swoops in, dark eyes rolling to yours and shining with interest.

Heat grows along your cheeks as your mouth suddenly dries up, your mind whirling and whirling yet giving you fucking nothing in terms of words. Though it’s only a moment, it feels like hours until you finally manage to speak, clearing your throat of the feeling of shy discomfort and giving a small shrug.

“I was just saying we can’t invite a stranger over,” you explain dumbly, inwardly wincing.

He cocks his head, a playfully charming smile tugging gently at his lips and you feel the effect of his eyes settle low in your stomach.

“How do you make friends without givin’ a stranger a chance, sugar?”

His tone curling the pet name on his tongue brings your heart to an unsteady beat, blood rushing along under your skin as your smile briefly widens. 

“You make a good point, cowboy,” you reply softly.

“That’s what I said!” Gabe agrees loudly, suddenly snapping you out of the apparent daze Jack had all but forced upon you.

You become very aware of Edith glancing at the three of you from her table, an amused smile playing along her lips as she sips at her tea. Jose is unusually quiet in the kitchen — no doubt eavesdropping, and Stacy seems to be wiping over the same spotless mark on the display case, trying her hardest to not make it look like she’d been lingering to purely listen in.

How had you not noticed them all? They were hardly discreet.

It’s his damn smile.

Jack, unbothered by the interruption, grins widely at Gabe, raising a hand to ruffle the thick knitted beanie forced over his hair. “You got a good head on your shoulders, kid.”

You catch Edith’s eyes over Jack’s shoulder and she gives you a nod of encouragement, throwing in an impatient point to the cowboy for good measure.

“Did—did you want to?” You ask, hoping your nerves didn’t shine through your tone. “Come over for dinner, that is. We could decorate cookies after…”

“Yeah,” Jack answers after a moment of studying your features, his smile softening briefly when he finds whatever he’s looking for. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Relief washes through you, followed steadily by a wave of anticipation and sweet excitement. You’re positive everyone can hear your heartbeat. It drums loudly in your ears, quickening when Jack sweeps forward to pluck the pen from where it hangs off the top of your dusted apron.

He bends briefly to jot something down on the back of a business card he’d pulled from the little holder in front of the till before straightening, smoothly slipping the card into your apron pocket.

“Let me know where and what time, and I’ll be there. See you later, kid — be good, y’hear?”

“Bye cowboy!” Gabe hollers after him, grinning and waving when Jack turns to give him a nod of goodbye.

“Holy shit,” you breathe when he’s finally out of sight, hand flying to rest over where you feel the business card tucked into your pocket and feeling the sharp edges of it through the thick fabric with a wash of warmth rolling through your body.

—

He still doesn’t have a fucking name.

His steering wheel had taken the brunt of his irritated palms during his drive back to the cabin and his brows had been furrowed over his eyes for the entire journey. He’d been so confident, so set on finding out your name the moment his gaze landed on your familiar shop front.

Well that went to fucking shit, didn’t it?

The second your pretty little eyes found his, he couldn’t remember a goddamn thing. Not a goddamn fucking thing. He’d been struck off balance, practically clawing to keep his cool calm. Hell, he couldn’t even say hello — he’d had to settle for a nod because his throat was so damn dry.

Thank god the kid had been there or he’d have made a right ass out of himself. How does one get a date before a name?

And he damn well couldn’t ask for it after receiving a text from you, noting your address and a time you’d be home after closing up. He couldn’t even label your fucking contact details in his phone.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” he’d growled to his reflection in the mirror while he was getting ready, his fingers smoothing his damp moustache down as leftover steam from his shower swirls towards the ceiling. “Get your fuckin’ act together.”

He’d come too far.

Now he needed to bribe the kid.

The drive to your house is mostly spent giving himself an internal pep talk, all of which seems to be forgotten the moment he rolls to a stop alongside the curb.

It’s a dark-bricked two storey with stark white lined windows and smaller in size than the others that line the roads heading towards the town centre, but not at all lacking in its own special charm, set amongst some trees with a paved path lining the way to the small, welcoming porch.

He knows he has the right place by the familiar face squished against one of the upper floor windows, and he gives Gabe a wave as he walks towards the steps, chuckling quietly to himself when he vaguely catches the kid yell his arrival from inside.

His knuckles rap softly against the light teal door, and he takes that brief moment to collect himself with a steadying breath while shaking the tension from his shoulders, before the door suddenly swings in, revealing your frame in the vacant space. His fingers tighten around the small bouquet of flowers held loosely by his side, suddenly struck dumb by you once again.

“Hey darlin’,” he greets softly, his smile automatic as your own spreads across your lips.

“Hi Jack,” you murmur, delighting in the buzz that runs along your nerves.

He raises the flowers, pride rolling over his shoulders when you blink in surprise before giving him the sweetest fucking smile he’s ever seen. God help him.

“These are for y—”

“Cowboy!”

The door is shoved open further by a new body, and Gabe grins up at him, tugging along another little body behind him. The girl stays half hidden behind her brother, her shy smile mirroring her mothers as she blinks up at him from around Gabe’s shoulder.

“Hey kid,” Jack greets fondly before leaning to take a better look at the girl, smiling when she ducks to hide further behind her brother, “hey sweetheart.”

“This is Louisa,” Gabe explains the second your lips part to form her name.

He takes a small step to the side, encouraging her to say hello with a comforting half embrace but she stays silent, hiding her face into Gabe’s sleeve and chewing on the nail of her index finger. He remains unphased and shrugs, tightening his arm around her and returning his attention to Jack.

“She’s a bit shy, but she’s cool.”

“Alright guys, let’s move out of the way before he freezes on our doorstep.”

You herd the kids out of the way and he steps in with a murmur of thanks, relishing in the warmth that fills the small home as you close out the cold behind him. He offers the bouquet of flowers to Louisa as she clutches at your leg, grinning when she carefully reaches for them. Gabe jumps to help him take his jacket off, as well as his hat, straining on tip toes to hang it neatly on the coat rack beside the door.

“Come on through, Jack,” you murmur, smiling at him over your shoulder as you walk deeper into your home, Louisa in tow, and he feels his heart jump in his chest. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Gabe goes to follow but Jack holds him back with his fingers pinching the collar of his t-shirt, waiting for a moment until you’re out of ear shot before bending at the waist and flashing the ten dollars he’d had ready in the front pocket of his jeans.

“You wanna make a deal?”

Gabe eyes the money and grins, “Sure.”

“I’ll give you this for your mama's name.”

—

“You really don’t have to do this, Jack.”

He gives a low rumble of a chuckle, turning to shoot you a brief grin as he passes you a wet plate. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, his hands turning slightly pink from the high heat of the soapy water filling the sink. He bumps softly into your shoulder, returning his attention to washing the small stack of dishes piled next to him.

It’s domestic, cosy.

“After that meal? Darlin’, it’s the least I can do.”

Dinner had gone down without a hitch, full of endless questions on Gabe’s part and a comfortable conversation with you when the kid had been too busy shovelling food into his mouth. Gabe had disappeared briefly and come back with his most treasured friend for introductions — Snickers, a soft tri-color Holland lop that stayed snuggled into his arms during the rest of the meal despite your disapproval.

Jack was at peace for the first time since he walked out the Statesman doors.

He tries not to enjoy it too much. His time in town is brief, after all.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you murmur softly, relishing in his sincere appreciation, “I’m actually not much of a cook.”

“Now, I refuse to believe that—”

“No, it’s true,” you grin, sharing a quiet laugh with him, “I can’t cook very well, but I can bake.”

“Yes, you can,” Jack agrees immediately, glancing over his shoulder to where the batch of gingerbread shapes sit on the counter before looking back at you. “I’ve never been one for gingerbread, and now it’s all I’m thinkin’ about.”

Maybe not all he’s thinking about.

He swallows, dragging his eyes away from the sweet curl of your lips.

“Well, in that case—” you spin and throw the towel playfully at his chest, “—let’s stop wasting time with the dishes.”

His eyes follow you as you move away, preparing somewhat of a decorating station over the clean kitchen counter, and he only becomes aware of the dazed little smile tugging at his lips when his cheeks start to ache from the pull of it.

He steps up next to you at your request, grinning at the cries of excitement from the other room when you call out for the kids. They settle on the two stools and take their pick of shapes from the tray you hold out to them, chattering about the various sprinkles and colours of icing you bring out already prepared.

Gabe quietly coaches Louisa along with decorations before glancing at you, his brows rising.

“You’re forgetting something, mum.”

“Oh, shit.”

Gabe grins as you grab your phone and mess with a little bluetooth speaker before the familiar notes of a certain song that is overplayed way too fucking much during this time of the year starts to fall from the speakers. Jack can’t help the little scrunch of his nose and you notice it with an amused tilt of your head.

“Don’t like this song?”

“I don’t like any Christmas songs,” Jack admits, accepting the little bowl of candy cane sprinkles Lousia shyly holds out to him with a tender smile.

“Oh no,” you murmur, catching Gabe’s attention as he turns to look up at you in question. “I think our new friend is a grinch.”

“What?!” Gabe abandons his decorating in favour of frowning up at the cowboy. “Do you hate Christmas? Why? Were you naughty?”

Jack chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ve just never really celebrated it, kid. It doesn’t interest me.”

“That’s fair, but I’m sorry cowboy,” you coo, leaning against the counter and giving him a coy smile, “when we make our gingerbread cookies—the Christmas playlist comes on.”

He decides he’s more than okay with it if he gets to spend a bit more time in your presence, and, all things considered, it’s not that bad. The music brings out a sweet giddiness in both you and the kids, and it only deepens the smile stretched out along his lips as he swims in the comfortable atmosphere falling over the kitchen.

“I have never used one of these in my life,” Jack notes dryly, holding the piping bag in his hand and frowning at the tip of it.

He glances at the way you work your own, looking so effortless in the way you ice intricate patterns over the cookies while softly swaying to the music. You side eye him with a grin, finishing off a swirl with a smooth flourish and raising a brow at him in a silent challenge.

Looks easy enough…

It’s not.

He makes a low noise of distaste at his shaky attempts, discovering the piping bag is not as innocent as it looks. Laughter melts into his ears and he throws you a playful frown, nudging your arm softly with his elbow.

“Are you laughin’ at me?”

“What? I would never,” you return cheekily, stepping closer until your front brushes against his arm.

Your hands cover his, the warmth of your palms oozing into his skin and he’s only vaguely aware of the instruction you quietly murmur into his ear. How could he focus on anything else with you so damn close? He ignores the pattern you help him ice over the cookie, too busy studying the way the kitchen light reflects in your eyes and the way your lashes brush against your skin.

You become hyper aware of his gaze burning into the side of your face and your body reacts automatically, your heart picking up in your chest and thudding heavily against your ribs. You sneak a glance at him, suddenly caught in the pools of warm brown focusing solely on you, and your breath catches in your throat.

It lasts only a minute, the chatter of Gabe and Lou obliviously decorating their cookies in the background keeping you both from falling any deeper into the temptation building along your nerves to close in on those last few inches.

Jack’s the first to look away and break the spell, his eyes falling down to the counter, before he gives you a final glance from his peripheral. You spy the smile tugging at his lips and your chest tightens, lost to the feeling of blood rushing to fill your cheeks.

Could he hear your heartbeat? God, you hope not.

The curl of anticipation never fades from the pit of your stomach as the night rolls on, stretching out over your system whenever you’d catch his gaze or feel the brush of his body against yours. It becomes harder and harder to deny the level of attraction you have for him, despite only meeting him yesterday.

And he’s wonderful with the kids… a fact that does nothing to temper the lure you feel for him. 

He listens attentively to every word Gabe says when he goes on a ramble about his new world and how creepers keep blowing up his house, despite quite clearly not knowing what the hell he’s talking about. He’s delicately soft with Louisa, never pushing her to talk and simply content to watch her work, interacting with a kind smile whenever she’d ask for his help or thoughts.

She’s completely smitten by the end of the night, and you don’t blame her.

She gives him a small tired wave from where she snuggles into the couch under a blanket with Gabe who’s long passed out, head thrown back against a pillow and snores falling from his open mouth. You follow Jack out once he returns Louisa’s goodbye, cringing at the icy temperature when you step onto the darkened porch behind him.

“You’ve got a couple of great kids,” Jack murmurs, turning to you.

You grin in return, glancing over your shoulder to the warmth of your home where they rest before meeting his gaze and giving a little shrug.

“I know.”

He chuckles deeply and the low timbre of it shoots straight to the pit of your stomach, the feeling only worsening when he takes a step closer and leans in to press a soft kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your lips. He lingers for a brief moment, his moustache tickling your skin as his nose brushes your cheek and it sends your heart into a frenzy.

You can’t help but turn into it, the movement bringing his lips within breathing distance, much much closer than before. His breath is warm over your lips, heavy with the hot chocolate you’d made after the cookies, and you feel your heart beating in your ears as the tip of his nose briefly catches yours.

“Thank you for havin’ me, sugar.”

“You’re welcome any time, cowboy.”

“Careful now,” Jack drawls quietly, tongue slipping along his lower lip as his eyes shine mischievously, “I might take you up on that offer quicker than you think.”

“I sure hope so,” you smile, watching fondly as he finally steps away from you and raises a hand to place the weathered Stetson atop his head.

You’re in trouble. You can feel it in your very core. You can feel it in the way your cheeks refuse to let go of the smile stretched across your lips. Despite spending the entire evening in his company, you ache with the question of when you’ll be able to see him like this again, his brief time in town only fuelling this need, and it prompts you to speak up before he goes too far.

“Jack?” You call as he slowly swaggers down the porch steps.

He stops instantly, turning to face you with a curious brow raised.

“If you want to take me up on that offer, we’re putting our Christmas lights up tomorrow… we could do with an extra hand if you’re available. Unless Scrooge has to work…” you trail off teasingly, grinning at his chuckle.

“I’ll be here, darlin’.”

—

It’s different, and very much unlike you.

Inviting a stranger over for dinner? Inviting him back to help decorate your home? It’d all felt so natural the day you spent clipping rows after rows of small, twinkling colourful lights along the eaves and windows, sharing conversation and jokes until the sun melted behind the mountains.

The feel of his hands steadying you on your trusty little step ladder had burnt you, even through the thickness of your coat. The way his eyes had reflected the wild flash of colour from the lights had settled something soft and tender in the pit of your stomach, pleased that he seemed to be enjoying himself in your company, even doing something as mundane as tacking lights everywhere. 

His farewell was much like the night before, leaving such a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips and lingering right there until you thought for sure he was going to kiss you, only to step away with that dazzling little grin and sauntering away with a raspy goodnight.

You’d stared at your ceiling longer than you cared to admit once he left, lost in the thoughts of his lips, his hands, the way he’d feel. 

He quickly lost his title of stranger, becoming something of a fast friend the more he spent time with you. The feelings that bubbled to the surface and swam merry little circles around your heart came so naturally in his presence. You desperately try to ignore the way they strengthen with each shared glance and charming smile, convinced it’s just the thrill of a new crush and nothing more.

It couldn’t be anything more. Though he didn’t tell you a whole lot about his work, he did tell you he was never in one spot for too long. He bounced between Kentucky and New York, often going overseas and all over, and it didn’t give him the opportunity of settling, or even dating.

He had said it with a tone of apology, as if he was giving you the option of walking away before you stepped any further after knowing it could be nothing like you were potentially dreaming. You’d enjoy it while it lasted, you decided. It didn’t have to be anything serious, or even romantic, just a sweet memory to treasure when he eventually drives out of town.

“That one is huge!” Gabe cries, running to a monstrous 11ft thing towering over the other trees and fluffing its lower branches. “We have to get this one.”

“And put it where, Gabriel?” You question in amusement, rolling your gaze from the thick width of the tree to the tip top of it. “We wouldn’t even be able to get this through our front door, let alone stand it up inside.”

He gives a dismissive shrug, “We can make it work. Can’t we, Jack?”

Jack chuckles next to you, walking over to Gabe and resting a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re askin’ a bit much of your door, kid. How about we find somethin’ more… compact?”

Gabe sighs, but eventually yields, giving one last look of longing to the monster before snatching Louisa’s hand and dragging her to other potential trees. You watch them dart between trunks with a small smile, your insides turning to fire when you feel a hand press into the small of your back to guide you between two close set trees.

“I’m sorry Gabe roped you into today,” you murmur as you step past Jack, your heart thudding when you feel his hand linger before sliding away. “I know Christmas isn’t your thing – this must be very painful.”

The night Jack had helped you with the lights, Gabe had asked — begged — him to come Christmas tree shopping with you, and had asked him every day leading up to the day a week later. Jack had given in early in the week, but Gabe had still asked every time Jack wandered into the shop for a treat to ensure his newest friend would help him pick the ‘coolest and bestest tree ever’. 

Jack laughs, reaching out to feel the needles on a passing tree and giving you a grin. “Don’t be, sugar. I’m havin’ a great time. I’ve got good company.”

He gives your shoulder a playful little bump with his own and fire spreads across your chest, curling around your heart and filling the tips of your ears. Instead of stepping away, he stays close, keeping his side constantly brushing against yours as you both leisurely follow after the kids and your heart starts to hammer.

“I could say the same,” you grin, shooting him a look from the side, “you’re not too bad for a grinch.”

“Hey now,” he drawls with a smile, “there’s still time for me to go ‘round town stealin’ Christmas.”

You’d let him if he kept smiling at you like this.

“I’ll make sure I keep an eye out for you on Christmas Eve.”

“Speakin’ of Christma Eve,” Jack murmurs, fighting the feel of something curling around his throat, “what’s this Christmas Ball thing I’ve been hearin’ about?”

“It’s hardly a ball,” you grin, trying to not let the brush of his body send your heart into too much of a frenzy, “that makes it sound a lot fancier than what it is. It’s just a Christmas Eve party at the hall — they’ve had it for years. It’s gotten bigger over time, what with more and more tourists coming into town.”

Jack nods along to your words, wondering when the hell he started getting so goddamn nervous to even speak. He swears his heart is beating in his throat. It’s not him, it's you. It’s you doing this to him, catching him off guard with those pretty eyes and making him feel like he was a clueless boy head over heels all over again. 

What in the hell are you doing to him?

Your voice breaks through his reverie.

“Will we see you there?”

His eyes flash up to meet yours, once again struck dumb by your smile. He gives a nod, barely able to catch his breath before your lips widen into something much more pleased and it rockets through his system. Originally he wasn’t going to, but the idea of going with you seemed much more appealing that staying in the cabin and nursing the bottle of whiskey for the night, waiting for the holiday to be over.

It’s just too bad he can’t get his damn mouth to form the fucking words to ask. Speak, man—

“Darlin’, I was wonderin’—”

“We found it!”

You both startle at the cry of victory that comes from in front of you, cutting through the moment of potential. Gabe has his hands clenched and arms high in the air while Louisa gives an excited little hop beside him, her face split from the grin stretched across her lips. Jack sighs quietly, weak to fight the smile that pulls at his cheeks at the kids’ excitement.

“Hold on a second,” you call back, turning those sweet eyes back onto him. “What were you saying, Jack?”

His eyes flick over your face, his throat bobbing with a swallow as he studies your features.

Maybe it’s best to leave it as it is. He already knows you’ll be attending, so what’s the point in asking you to go with him? He can just catch up with you there. Not to mention you probably had things to do with the kids, with your fellow townsfolk… no. He’ll leave it be. Besides, it’s not like he’ll be in town for much longer.

“It’s nothin’, sugar,” he finally replies, lips set in their charming curl. “Come on now, let’s go get this tree before this kid finds an axe and does it himself.”

-

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide

whiskey/jack tags: @pedrohoe04, @stardust-galaxies, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @dins-cyare, @eatommo, @serini-ty, @bbyanarchist, @raphaelaisabella, @breakfastonpluto19, @churchofrain, @joelmiller81, @h-hxgirl, @mischiefnevermanaged94, @shadowolf993​

so many aren’t working lately, sorry x

[foli-vora]

deck the halls with hundreds of fictional cocks, fa la la la la, la la la la—

It’s my favourite time of year!

Here are my holiday fics for this december - all of which have been completed/mostly completed and scheduled for the noted dates. They're packed with the fluffiest of fluff and spiciest of smut and are made to provide cosy comfort and warmth - no angst will be found here!

These are the 'main' ones, but I'll probably get drunk off of holiday spirit so there'll most likely be extra drabbles that I'll throw out whenever and add on as I go. Fics will be tagged #folijollyxmas if you wanted to follow along!

↳ my only wish

jack daniels x singlemumf!reader. rating: explicit 18+ ONLY.

typical hallmark movie. he’s never been one for christmas - he hates the tacky decorations and the ear drilling music, but maybe the owner of a small town bakery and her children will change that.

- part one

- part two

- part four : coming soon

↳ meet the yorks

dave york x f!reader. rating: explicit 18+ ONLY.

just a filthy soft as fuck christmas fic in the york house.

↳ under the tree

bradley “rooster” bradshaw x f!reader. rating: explicit 18+ ONLY.

santa came early for bradley and he’s positive you’re trying to kill him. too bad mav also decided to arrive earlier than planned. awkward chaos ensues.

coming soon

↳ tinsel tangle

matt murdock x f!reader x frank castle. rating: explicit 18+ ONLY.

christmas decorating and baking and gift wrapping and porn. it's just porn idk.

coming soon

↳ curse breaker

marcus pike x f!reader. rating: explicit 18+ ONLY.

after an embarrassing confession to the pretty stranger at the bar, you find that maybe this is the year you break your apparent 'curse'.

31/12/22