Summary: Bucky warms you up after the power goes out on a cold winter evening.
Warnings: Smut, unprotected PinV sex, multiple orgasms, some fluff, pet names (sweetheart, honey, baby).
A/N: Thank you @the-slumberparty @navybrat817 & @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for hosting the Winter Whims Mini Challenge. Prompts: power outage & too cold to get out of bed. Dialogue: “You’re hogging the blankets.”
A/N 2: Thank you to my beta readers @late-to-the-party-81 & @stellar-solar-flare & @societyfolklore for the header
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A snowstorm was coming down outside in Brooklyn, where you and your husband Bucky lived. The power had gone out hours ago and you were currently in bed wearing one of Bucky's henleys and your flannel pajama pants
You wanted to get a fire going in the bedroom fireplace, but didn’t know how to – that was normally your husband’s job. So that left you freezing under the blankets. Alone.
You were too cold to get out of bed and grab more blankets to warm yourself up and your teeth chattered as you tugged the comforter closer to you. This had to be the worst way to try to fall asleep. What you wouldn’t give to have a certain super soldier home to help warm you up. Currently, he was on his way home from a mission he had been on for the last week.
Time seemed to drag on slower than usual as you cursed the winter weather. Then, finally, you heard the front door opening and closing. You listened to the familiar sound of footsteps as your husband moved through the house and headed to your shared bedroom.
Bucky walked into the dark room and caught your silhouette in bed from the snow-reflected moonlight that shone through the window.
“Honey, are you okay? I heard all of Brooklyn is without electricity. I was worried about you.” He walked over to the bed and sat next to you. Your eyes and nose were the only things not covered by the comforter and your teeth continued to chatter.
“I’m o-okay,” was your muffled assertion. “Just chilled to the bone. Could really use your body heat right about now.”
Bucky smiled and kissed your forehead. “Let me start a fire to help heat the room. Then I’ll climb under the covers to get you warm.”
It only took him a few steps to reach the fireplace and within minutes, a fire sputtered to life, its glow lighting up the room. You could immediately feel the warmth of it fill the bedroom, but you were still cold.
Bucky quickly changed into a t-shirt and black boxer briefs and made his way back to the bed. Slowly, he tried to pull the blankets back from your body so he could crawl underneath, but you were having none of it.
“Baby. You’re hogging the blankets. Let me under and I’ll warm you up,” Bucky gently said as he tugged at the blankets again. With a whine, you let him under and rolled over to hug him.
“Mmm… warmth!” You murmured as your cold body wrapped around his warm one.
“Geez, sweetheart, you’re freezing. How long have we been without heat?” He asked as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back. Bucky always ran hot, so he wasn’t fazed by the cold inside the house.
You wriggled even closer as you tried to get warm. “It’s been several hours,” you whispered against his chest. You clung to Bucky and sighed in contentment as his body heat started to warm you up.
You groaned at the feeling of both his flesh and vibranium hands as they softly caressed your body. He kissed your forehead with affection and smiled as you cuddled against him. His beard felt nice against your skin as well.
“I’m starting to get nice and warm between you and the fire,” you said as you played with his dog tags where they lay against his chest.
“Good, I’m glad ‘cause I hate seeing you freezing like this in the winter. I’m gonna show you tomorrow how to start a fire so you don’t get this cold again.”
“Thanks, Bucky. I’d like that.”
Before you knew it, the temperature in the room had greatly increased, and you sighed in relief. However, that didn’t stop you from snuggling against Bucky to get even warmer.
While you cuddled, you asked him about his mission, and he happily answered. At least the mission was now over and he wouldn’t have to do any stakeouts, at least for the time being. Inevitably though, talking and cuddling turned into soft kisses and caresses and you didn’t complain when Bucky turned you onto your back and deepened the kiss.
His tongue danced with yours as he ground his hardening cock against your covered core. A low moan erupted from your throat as Bucky’s flesh hand slid under the henley you were wearing and he started to gently pinch your nipple.
“I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but I’ve missed you terribly. Let me show you how much.” Bucky whispered in between kisses.
You gasp and grip his long hair when he rolled his hips, rubbing his hard cock against you.
“Yes, Bucky,” you whined. “I need you. I’ve missed you so much.”
That’s all Bucky needed to hear. He sat up and started pulling your clothes off, and in mere seconds, you were naked underneath him and he was naked above you. Bucky slowly stroked his thick cock a few times and you watched in the dim light as a bead of precum dripped down the tip.
You licked your lips instinctively as your legs fell open for him. Bucky leant down and settled on top of you, his arms caging you in. His flesh hand gripped his cock and he rubbed it through your wet pussy a few times. Your eyes were locked with his blue ones as he pressed inside you, inch by glorious inch. The stretch of his cock inside your pussy stung for a moment, but your body quickly adjusted to him, like it did every time.
“Fuck, your pussy is always so tight for me,” Bucky groaned as he bottomed out inside you.
Your legs wrapped around his trim waist, and you moaned out his name. Your fingers dug into his back when he started to pull slowly out, before thrusting hard inside you again.
His movements were firm but slow as he started to take you apart piece by piece. You met him thrust for thrust as you both made love to one another. His right arm was holding himself above you while his vibranium hand caressed your cheek as you both kissed again.
“Fuck Bucky, right there! Ohmygod, it feels so good.”
Bucky sped up and kept hitting your sweet spot. Your breaths were growing quicker and you could feel that coil in your stomach start to tighten.
“I know you’re close, sweetheart. You’re gripping me like a vice. Cum for me. Cum all over your husband’s cock.” His vibranium fingers dipped between the two of you and he started to rub your clit in circles.
That’s all you needed for you to fall off the ledge and cum for him. “Bucky!” You screamed his name to the heavens above.
Bucky fucked you through your first orgasm and then continued to fuck you with pride. He scooped your legs up and placed them over his shoulders, changing the position so he could go even deeper inside you. It let him hit your sweet spot over and over again, and you couldn’t be happier.
Your moans were loud and your toes started to curl as you felt orgasm number two fast approaching. Your fingers curled around his dog tags and you held onto them as he tried to take you apart again.
Bucky loved listening to the noises you made and smirked down at you with love.
Harder and faster he thrust until you were coming around his cock again. Your pussy clenched around him hard and his movements started to get sloppy.
“Fucking hell, baby, so tight for me. Fuck I’m not gonna last.”
With a nod from you, Bucky chased his orgasm. Your pussy was so tight, fluttering wildly around him, that all it took was a few hard thrusts and he was cumming deep inside you. Bucky groaned against your neck as his hips thrust a few more times, your pussy milking him completely.
You lay in silence for a few moments, Bucky breathing heavily against your neck. However, it wasn’t long before he slowly pulled out of you, slipping to the bathroom to clean himself up. A couple of minutes later, he returned with a washcloth and towel to clean you up.
After ensuring you were comfortable, he threw both things in the hamper, and climbed back into bed, next to you. His vibranium arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you to his side.
“How do you feel, my love?” Bucky whispered before he kissed your forehead.
“Mmmm… I feel great. Highly satisfied and toasty warm now.” You cuddled against his chest as your fingers lazily drew patterns across his body.
“I’m glad, sweetheart, that I could help keep you warm. I hate it when you’re cold like you were earlier. I’ll always keep you warm and safe.”
“I know you will, Bucky. That’s why I love you more than anything in this world.” You leaned up and kissed his lips.
“I love you too, sweetheart. More than you’ll ever know.”
The two of you started to kiss and caress one another again and with the fireplace still crackling with life in the grate, you made love again several more times before you fell asleep from exhaustion.
Tags: Post-Endgame. Neighbors. Fluff. Slight Angst. Slice of life.
Summary: Two neighbors, one alley, and an unexpected Christmas Eve.
Word Count: 5k
Part of 2A & 3B Oneshot Collection
note: Submitting this for @the-slumberparty's Winter Whims Mini Challenge. The prompts are: Forgotten at the holidays and “Are you hiding or stuck?”
The apartment was dark except for the intermittent flash of street lights below -red, green, white, red- casting blinking colors across the walls. Bucky sat on the couch in the half-light, staring at the whisky bottle on the coffee table.
Three-quarters empty. Or maybe one-quarter full, if he wanted to be optimistic about it.
He didn't.
Next to the bottle was an open bag of chips, oversized, meant to feed a family during movie night. He'd eaten maybe a handful.
The lights outside blinked again. Red this time. It painted the bottle cap crimson for a second before fading back to shadow.
He sighed. He could finish the bottle, buy three more, and the result would be exactly the same: completely sober, sitting in the dark on Christmas Eve.
Forced sobriety.
What a gift that was.
His phone bipped three days ago. Sam.
Hey man, forgot to ask earlier but we're doing Christmas dinner at my place. My sister's coming and some friends. You should come. Bring whatever.
Casual. Like an afterthought, which it probably was.
He had stared at the message for about five minutes before typing back something short. Polite.
Thanks, but I'm good. Have a good night.
Sam had sent a thumbs-up emoji. No follow-up. No insistence. Which proved the point, didn't it? The invitation had been a checkbox.
Invite Bucky so I don't feel like an asshole.
Checked.
It wasn't Sam's fault. They barely knew each other. Most of their interactions had been hostile, then Steve left, and suddenly, Bucky was Sam's problem by default. The awkward leftover.
He took a sip from the glass. Barely tasted it anymore. Just went through the motions because what else was there?
Christmas Eve.
The last real one he remembered was 1941. Before everything went to shit.
And now?
Now he had an empty apartment. A bottle that couldn't get him drunk. An invitation that came as an afterthought. And absolutely no idea what the hell he was supposed to do with the rest of his life.
The street lights blinked again. Green. White. Red.
Merry fucking Christmas.
He set the glass down on the table, harder than necessary, and dragged both hands through his hair. He should cut it. Should do a lot of things. Should get off this couch and figure out how to be a person again.
Instead, he reached for the bottle.
----
He looked at the clock on his phone. 11:04 PM.
The bottle was empty.
He stared at it for a second, then at the chip bag. Somehow, he'd eaten half of it without noticing. His mouth tasted like salt and fake cheese powder. His stomach felt hollow in a way that had nothing to do with hunger.
Sleep wasn't happening, and he knew it.
He could sit here until morning, staring at the empty bottle, or he could go out. Get more. At least it would kill twenty minutes.
The liquor store three blocks over was probably closed. Everything was probably closed. Normal people were at home with their families, or at parties, or doing whatever the hell people did on Christmas Eve in the 21st century.
But he grabbed his jacket anyway.
----
Two blocks down, most of the shops were dark. Closed signs. Security gates. String lights in windows that weren't for him.
Three blocks.
A Chinese bodega. Lights still on inside, fluorescent and harsh. The sign in the window was crooked, and half the letters were burned out, but it was open.
He pushed through the door. A bell chimed, too cheerful for the atmosphere. The guy behind the counter didn't even look up from his phone. Middle-aged, tired-looking.
Bucky grabbed a bottle from the shelf. Cheaper than the last one. Did it matter? It all tasted the same when you couldn't get drunk anyway.
The guy rang him up without a word. He paid cash. Left.
----
The walk back felt longer than the walk there. The streets were quieter, except for the distant sound of laughter from an apartment somewhere above. A party. Music. People.
He gripped the paper bag tighter and kept walking, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk.
He was half a block from his building when he heard voices. He snapped his head up on instinct.
The front entrance. A neighbor couple, both dressed up like they were heading somewhere nice. The woman had a bottle of wine in one hand. The guy was carrying a six-pack.
He slowed his pace, still too far away for them to notice him. They were laughing about something, heading toward a car parked at the curb. He could wait. Let them get in and drive off. Avoid the whole thing.
Or, he could just walk past them. Quickly. They probably wouldn't even notice.
Except he didn't do either, because the second he started moving again, the woman glanced up and made eye contact.
Shit.
She smiled. "Merry Christmas!"
Her voice was bright.
Bucky nodded once, stiffly, and veered left.
Into the alley.
It ran along the side of the building, narrow and dim, the kind of place people cut through during the day but avoid at night.
He didn't care.
His boots hit wet pavement, slush, and melted snow, probably mixed with things he didn't want to think about. The dumpster was against the brick wall about halfway down, big and green and reeking even in the cold.
He heard the car doors slam behind him. An engine starting. Driving away.
Good.
He should go back now, and go through the front like a normal person.
Except his feet kept moving forward, deeper into the alley, and he wasn't even sure why. He made three more steps before his boot hit a patch of ice.
His left foot went out from under him.
The paper bag flew from his hand -he heard the bottle hit the ground, didn't hear it break, thank fuck- and his ass hit the pavement hard. Whatever was on the floor soaked through his jeans immediately.
"Fuck," he muttered, more reflex than anything.
How the hell had he even fallen? Should've adjusted mid-slip and landed on his feet, easily. He'd dodged bullets with his arm. Landed from three-story drops.
And he'd just eaten shit on a patch of ice like some asshole.
Self-sabotage, probably. Wouldn't be the first time his brain decided to fuck him over in creative ways. Wouldn't surprise him at all.
He sat there for a second, sprawled between the dumpster and the wall, stretching his legs out in the slush.
He should get up. Should grab the bottle. Should get out of this goddamn alley and go upstairs and sit in the dark some more.
But he didn't move.
Just sat there, back against the cold brick, feeling the ice water soak into his pants, and thought about how this was exactly the kind of Christmas Eve he deserved.
That's when he heard footsteps.
He kept his head down, letting his hair fall forward like a curtain across his face. Who the hell would be walking through here at this hour-
"Are you hiding or stuck?"
3B.
Of course it was her.
His brain kicked into overdrive. What the hell was she doing out here, alone, in an alley at eleven-fucking-thirty on Christmas Eve? Did she go back for something? Leave somewhere early?
And why -why the fuck- did it have to be her who found him like this? Sitting behind a dumpster with his ass soaked through, gloves filthy from catching himself on the pavement, sprawled out like some vagrant who couldn't handle basic walking.
Perfect. Just perfect.
He didn't answer. Couldn't make his mouth work.
She tried again, "Are you tipsy?"
He fucking wished.
She stepped closer and extended her hand.
He stared at it for a second. He couldn't take it. If he put any real weight on her, she'd end up face-first in the dumpster or flat on top of him. Plus, he didn't even want to know what was on his gloves right now.
He pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly. "Thanks. Don't want to get you dirty."
He braced his metal hand against the wall and pushed himself up, scraping his boots against the wet pavement. His jeans stuck to his legs, cold and heavy. He could feel her watching him.
Silence.
She didn't leave. Just stood there, a few feet away, shoving her hands in her coat pockets.
He kept his eyes on the ground, clenching his jaw. Of all the people in this building, in this city, why did it have to be the one person who'd been decent to him, the one finding him sitting in garbage water, hiding in an alley from neighbors wishing him Merry Christmas?
She moved, crouching down near the bottle. The paper bag was soaked through, practically disintegrating. She picked it up carefully and straightened.
"Here." She held it out to him.
He took it. Didn't meet her eyes. "Thanks."
Another beat of quiet. Then- "Were you heading somewhere? When you... had your accident?"
There was no judgment in her voice. Just curiosity. Maybe concern. Like she thought he'd been on his way to some party, some gathering, with a bottle to share.
He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "Just home."
"Oh."
She looked at him then, and she dropped her gaze to his jeans, dark and soaked from the ass up, clinging to his legs. Like she'd just remembered he'd actually fallen.
"You should probably get inside," she said, softer now. "I'm heading in too."
Bucky hesitated. Then, because he couldn't help himself, couldn't stop the question, even though he wasn't sure he wanted the answer: "Did you forget something?"
She let out a small laugh. Self-deprecating. Tired. "My self-esteem."
It wasn't entirely a joke. She'd left a party early -early enough that people would notice, would talk about it tomorrow-. Seeing him had been worse than she'd expected. Seeing them together, happy, like he hadn't blown up her entire life a year ago, like she was just... nothing.
So she'd left. Because she couldn't stand another second of pretending she was fine.
And now here she was, standing in a freezing alley with her neighbor -her good-looking and socially awkward neighbor-, while he clutched a bottle of cheap whisky like a lifeline.
They made quite a pair.
----
Bucky looked at her. Actually looked at her this time, instead of keeping his eyes on the pavement.
She looked tired. Not just physically, but in a way he recognized too well. The kind that came from holding yourself together when everything inside wanted to fall apart.
Halloween. She'd noticed he was struggling. Offered food when his stomach had betrayed him in the lobby. Made it easy for him to say yes by turning it into something else. A trade, a story. Gave him a reason to accept help without it feeling like charity.
He could do that. He could give her something similar.
His mouth moved before his brain caught up.
"You want to come up?"
He cleared his throat, feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck despite the temperature. "If you want. I've got..." He glanced down at the bottle in his hand. "This. And probably stale chips."
It wasn't much of an offer. Wasn't even a good one. But it was something.
Her face brightened immediately. Something sparked in her eyes.
"Yeah," she said, and there was relief in her voice. "Yeah, I'd like that."
She'd been bracing herself for going upstairs alone. Sitting alone on Christmas Eve, replaying the party over and over in her head. The perspective of spending it with Bucky instead -quiet, awkward, comfortable Bucky- was infinitely better.
She looked at him. "You sure?"
Was he sure?
No.
Yes.
Maybe.
His apartment wasn't the Taj Mahal, but she'd seen it before at some point and hadn't run screaming, so that was something. What had he left lying around? There were probably takeout containers on the counter. Dirty dishes in the sink. And fuck- his laundry. The stuff he needed to wash was in a pile in the bathroom.
He realized he hadn't answered.
"Yeah," he said, trying to sound casual, like this was no big deal, like he invited people over all the time. "Let's go."
----
They were halfway up the stairs when she spoke.
"Give me like five minutes?" She didn't slow her pace. "While you change." She gestured vaguely at his pants, stating the obvious. "I'll grab some stuff and head over."
Perfect. That gave him time to make the place less of a disaster zone.
"Yeah. Okay." He tried to sound casual. "Take your time."
She kept climbing toward the third floor. He watched her go for half a second, then almost bolted to his door.
----
She shut the door behind her and leaned against it for a second, closing her eyes, exhaling slowly.
Okay. Okay.
She was doing this. Spending Christmas Eve with her neighbor. Her attractive, brooding neighbor who'd just fallen on his ass in an alley and looked at her like she'd caught him committing a crime.
She pushed off the door, went to the kitchen, and opened the cabinet. The chocolate-covered coffee beans she'd bought for tomorrow were still there, unopened. She'd planned to have them in the morning, alone, while trying not to think about how pathetic that was.
Screw it. She grabbed the bag.
Then the instant coffee from the shelf. Knowing Bucky, there was a fifty-fifty chance his kitchen was completely empty. She turned to the fridge. The can of whipped cream was in the door, the fancy kind she'd splurged on last week. Half-full. She grabbed it too.
She dropped her eyes to her feet. The boots she'd worn to the party were cute but uncomfortable as hell. Black leather with a slight heel, the kind you wore to look good, not to feel good.
She kicked them off right there in the kitchen and went to her sneakers by the couch. Bucky wouldn't care. He probably wouldn't even notice.
----
The second he got inside his apartment, he flipped on the lights and immediately went into damage control mode.
Takeout containers. One still had the plastic fork sticking out of it. The sink had a plate, a mug, and what looked like the remnants of... something. He didn't even remember what he'd eaten two days ago.
He grabbed the takeout containers and shoved them into the trash, crumpling them down so they'd fit. Then he snatched the stuff from the sink and rinsed everything under the faucet for exactly three seconds.
The living room wasn't terrible. The couch, the coffee table, the empty whisky bottle… fuck. The empty whisky bottle. He grabbed it with the chip bag and tossed both into the trash, applying a little more force than necessary.
Then-
The bathroom.
He scooped the dirty laundry up in one armful, marched into the bedroom, and dumped it in the corner behind the door where she wouldn't see it unless she went looking.
He looked down at himself. Wet jeans, still clinging to his legs. Right.
He peeled them off, the denim fighting him the whole way, and tossed them onto the laundry pile. Grabbed a clean pair from the drawer.
He was halfway through pulling them on when it hit him.
When was the last time he'd showered?
Yesterday. Or... no. Day before yesterday? Fuck.
He didn't smell bad -he was pretty sure he didn't smell bad- but he'd been sitting in alley slush ten minutes ago, and now she was coming over and he couldn't just-
He yanked the jeans up the rest of the way, grabbed a clean shirt from the drawer, and headed for the bathroom.
He turned on the faucet, then bent over the sink and splashed his face. The cold shocked him awake. He scrubbed at his jaw, his neck, and behind his ears.
He grabbed the soap, lathered up his right hand, and ran it over the back of his neck, his collarbone, under his right arm.
He was mid-rinse, water dripping down his chest, when he heard it.
A knock at the door.
Shit.
He grabbed the towel off the rack, wiped his face and neck in two quick swipes, and yank the shirt over his head, fighting with it as it stuck to his damp skin. His hair was everywhere, wet, messy, falling in his face.
Another knock. Softer this time.
He snatched the hair tie off the counter, twisted his hair back as fast as he could, and secured it in something that barely qualified as a ponytail. Pieces were already falling loose.
"Coming," he called.
He gave himself half a second in the mirror -presentable enough- and headed for the door.
----
She was standing there with her arms full -a bag of something, a can of whipped cream, a jar of instant coffee- and wearing sneakers instead of the heeled boots she'd had on in the alley.
"Hi," she said, a little breathless. Then, before he could respond, she held up the items like an offering. "So, your bottle. I figured… Irish coffee. If you're up for it."
He blinked. "Irish coffee."
"It's good. Way better than drinking scotch straight." She paused, tilting her head slightly. "No offense if that's your thing, but I'm not great at it."
Bucky stepped aside, holding the door open. "I've never had it."
"Well." She turned to face him, with a small smile on her lips. "If you let me borrow your kitchen for like five minutes, you'll get the chance. And if you don't like it, I'll drink yours too. Won't go to waste."
He almost smiled at that. Almost. "Yeah. Okay."
She headed straight for the kitchen like she'd been there a dozen times before, setting everything down on the counter. Bucky followed, shoving his hands in his pockets, watching as she looked around.
"You got mugs?" she asked, opening one cabinet, then another.
"Top shelf. Left side."
She stretched up on her toes to reach them, pulling down two mismatched mugs and set them on the counter, then turned back to him.
"Sugar?"
He moved to the cabinet next to the fridge and pulled out a small plastic bag with a twist tie.
"Perfect." She took it from him, their fingers brushing for just a second.
She didn't pull away immediately. Just took the bag and turned back to the counter.
"Oh, and-" She glanced back at him. "You have a kettle or something? To heat water?"
"Yeah." He moved past her -carefully, making sure not to crowd her- and grabbed the electric kettle from the corner of the counter. One of the few modern things he owned.
He filled it at the sink and plugged it in. The light clicked on, and the faint sound of heating water filled the silence.
She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms loosely, watching the kettle like it was the most interesting thing in the room.
"That's a good one," she said after a moment, nodding at it. "Heats up fast."
"Yeah." He scratched at the back of his neck. "It was... easier than I thought it'd be."
She smiled at that. "Well, you have to push a button. The 21st century's not all bad."
"Jury's still out."
That made her laugh. A soft, breathy sound that made something stupid to his chest.
The kettle kept humming. Bucky stayed where he was, watching her from across the small kitchen. There was something loose in the way she held herself. The way she'd smiled at him just now. The way her words came out just a little softer.
She'd been drinking. Not a lot, maybe. But enough.
He filed that away and didn't say anything.
The kettle clicked off.
"Okay." She straightened, rubbing her hands together like she was about to perform surgery.
She unscrewed the jar of instant coffee, spooned some into each mug, then poured the hot water over it. The smell hit him immediately: sharp and bitter and familiar.
"How much whiskey do you want in yours?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.
He had no idea. "However much you're putting in yours."
"Good answer." She said, grabbing the bottle he'd bought and pouring a generous amount into each mug. Then she added sugar, stirred both with a spoon, and topped each one off with a swirl of whipped cream from the can.
She handed him one of the mugs.
"Try it."
He took it, looking down at the whipped cream floating on top. It smelled sweet. Nothing like the straight whiskey he'd been drinking earlier.
He took a sip.
It was... good. Warm, sweet, with just enough bite from the alcohol to remind him it was there. The cream smoothed everything out.
"Well?" She was watching him, mug in her own hands, raising her eyebrows.
"It's good," he admitted.
She grinned. "Told you."
She took a sip from her own mug, then nodded toward the living room. "Come on. Let's sit."
She sat on the couch first, bending one leg under her and cradling the mug in both hands. Bucky hesitated for half a second, then sat down on the other end, leaving a careful amount of space between them.
Silence.
He took another sip of his coffee. She did the same, staring at the whipped cream dissolving slowly into the dark liquid.
He should say something. Ask. She'd left a party early, walked home alone in the cold, and ended up in an alley on Christmas Eve. Something had happened.
"So," he started, then cleared his throat. "What happened? At the party. If you... want to talk about it."
She looked at him, blinking once like she was surprised he'd asked. Then her expression changed. Something between bitter amusement and irritation.
"You know what?" She took a long sip of her coffee. "Yeah. I do want to talk about it. Because it was shitty."
He waited.
She shifted on the couch, turning slightly to face him, gesturing with one hand with the mug. "It was supposed to be a thing with friends, right? Just people I know, casual. And I show up, and everything's fine for like, I don't know, an hour? And then he walks in."
She said "he" with enough venom that Bucky’s eyebrows pulled together slightly.
"He, as...?" he asked carefully.
"My ex," she sighed. "And not just him. Her too. The woman he cheated on me with. Holding hands like they're in some kind of fucking rom-com."
She brought her free hand up, rubbing at her forehead like she was trying to physically push the image out of her head.
"And here's the thing that really pisses me off," she continued, gaining momentum with her voice. "It was a party with friends. People I've known for years. And not one of them thought to give me a heads-up? Not one person thought, 'Hey, maybe we should mention that they are going to be there'?"
Bucky watched her, resting his mug on his thigh. She was leaning forward now, elbows on her knees, and when she gestured again -too wide, too loose- her shoulder bumped against his arm.
She didn't pull back. Just kept talking.
"And the worst part? He looked good. Like, annoyingly good. All dressed up, smiling." She shook her head, taking another drink. "And she was hanging off him like a barnacle. Laughing at everything he said. That stupid laugh, like a hyena on helium."
Bucky twitched his mouth. Just barely.
She caught it. "What?"
"Hyena on helium," he repeated, deadpan.
She stared at him for a second, then snorted into her mug. "It's accurate."
"I believe you."
She smiled at that -small, but there- and settled back against the couch. Her shoulder stayed pressed against his arm. She didn't seem to notice. Or maybe she did and didn't care.
Bucky noticed. And was very aware of it.
"Anyway," she said, waving her hand vaguely. "I lasted maybe another half hour. Smiled, made small talk, pretended I was totally fine. And then I just... left. Didn't even say goodbye. Just walked out."
She looked down at her mug, swirling the liquid inside. "Probably seemed dramatic. But I didn't care. I wasn't going to stand there and watch them while I felt like shit."
"You shouldn't have to," Bucky said quietly.
She glanced at him, her gaze softening a little. "No. I shouldn't."
Silence again. But this time it felt different. Less heavy.
She took another sip, then looked at him sideways. "So. Your turn. What were you doing alone on Christmas Eve? Besides falling on your ass in an alley."
Bucky looked down at his mug, watching the last bit of whipped cream dissolve into the coffee. He'd known this was coming. She'd told him her story; now it was his turn.
He cleared his throat. "A... friend invited me to dinner. His place. With his family."
"Oh." She tilted her head slightly. "But you didn't go."
"No." He shifted, the leather of the couch creaking under him. "He asked me three days ago. Last minute. I think it was..." He paused, trying to find the right words. "I think it was more out of obligation than anything else."
She frowned at that. "What makes you think that?"
Bucky shrugged, still not looking at her. "The message came late. Really casual. 'Forgot to ask earlier' kind of thing." He took a sip of his coffee, buying himself time. "And when I said no, he just... sent a thumbs-up. No follow-up. Nothing."
He could feel her watching him.
"So yeah," he continued, quieter now. "I think he asked because he felt like he had to. Invite Bucky because it was what it was supposed to be done. But when I said no..." He made a small gesture with his free hand. "Problem solved."
She was quiet for a moment. Then- "That's shitty."
He glanced at her. She was leaning back against the couch now, cradling her mug in both hands, looking at him with… not pity, just understanding.
"It's fine," he said, even though it wasn't.
"No, it's not." She shook her head. "But- are you sure that's what happened? Maybe he just... didn't want to push. Didn't want to pressure you into saying yes?"
He considered that. Tried to see it from Sam's angle. Maybe he had backed off because he thought Bucky wanted space. Because he thought pushing would make it worse.
"I don't know," he said finally. "But it doesn't matter now."
She took another sip of her coffee, then added, softer: "For what it's worth, I'm glad you didn't go. If you had, you wouldn't have been in that alley. And I wouldn't have anyone to drink Irish coffee with right now."
That made his chest do something stupid again. He looked at her, and she was smiling.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Me too."
She nudged his arm with her shoulder. Just a light bump. "We make a good pair of Christmas rejects, huh?"
He twitched his mouth. "Sounds about right."
She laughed at that -soft and a little breathless- and snuggled down into the couch. Her shoulder stayed pressed against his arm. He could feel the warmth of her body through his shirt.
They sat like that for a while, sipping their coffee in comfortable silence.
Bucky realized, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was the first time all night -maybe all week- that he didn't feel completely hollow.
"You know what the worst part is?" she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
He glanced at her. "What?"
"I don't even miss him." She was staring at her mug, swirling the dregs of coffee inside. "At all. I'm over him, completely. I wouldn't take him back if he begged." She paused, then added, quieter: "But seeing him there, happy, with her... it just made me feel... forgettable. Like I didn't matter. Like what we had didn't matter."
Bucky was quiet for a moment. Then- "You're not forgettable."
She looked at him.
He wasn't sure where the words had come from, but they were true. She wasn't forgettable. Not even close.
"I mean it," he said, holding her gaze. "Anyone who makes you feel like that is an idiot."
Her expression softened. She didn't say anything, just looked at him for a long moment. Then she smiled -small and tired and grateful- and leaned her head back against the couch.
"Thanks, Bucky."
He nodded once, then turned his attention back to his mug. His heart was beating a little faster than it should've been.
They fell into silence again. The kind that didn't need filling.
She shifted slightly, adjusting her position on the couch, blinking slower than before, then leaned forward and set the mug carefully on the coffee table.
"I'm just gonna..." She settled back, bending her legs up under her. "Rest my head for a second. I think I put too much scotch in that coffee."
He didn't say anything. Just watched as she closed her eyes and her breathing evened out almost immediately, tipping her head slightly to the side against the back of the couch.
A minute passed. Maybe two.
She didn't move.
He should have woken her up. Tell her to go upstairs and sleep in her own bed, where she'd be more comfortable.
But he didn't.
Instead, he stood slowly -careful not to jostle the couch- and grabbed the blanket draped over the arm. The one he slept with since the floor was the only place that made sense most nights.
He unfolded it quietly and draped it over her.
She made a small sound -half-sigh, half-hum- and shifted slightly, pulling the blanket closer.
He stood there for a moment, looking down at her, and then he sat back down on the couch. Close. Closer than before.
He could allow himself this small indulgence. It wasn't that crazy, he told himself. Decidedly far less abnormal than stealing her underwear to-
He didn't want to think about that.
He shifted, sinking deeper into the couch, and let his head fall back against the cushions.
For the first time in a long time, Christmas didn't feel quite so heavy.
Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, ft. The Thunderbolts
Word Count: <1.4K
Summary: After multiple days of snowfall leave the team feeling trapped in the Watchtower, an idea sparks which sends the New Avengers—and a grumpy Bucky—for some team bonding in the snow.
Prompt: Too old to be sledding, and “I’d say things can’t get worse, but I’m here.”
Content Warning: fluff, grumpy Bucky (but not really), protective and worried Bucky 🥰, brief mention of reader being a bit clumsy, sleds are somehow from the tower because idk, author doesn’t know what the landscape looks like and only picked the location based on a Reddit post.
A/N: My submission for @the-slumberparty’s Winter Whims Mini Challenge! Dividers by me. Written and edited on my phone; any and all mistakes are my own.
Masterlist || AO3
Thick snowflakes drift through the Manhattan skyline, passing by the large glass windows in a flurry of white as they make their way to the street far below.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere inside the Tower is an odd mix of cozy and cold, exacerbated by the gloomy weather outside and the random pieces of Christmas decorations that still somehow linger despite the holiday being long over.
Your gaze slides lazily between the warm glow of the electric fireplace flickering in the common area to the large snowflakes fluttering by outside.
It's been snowing for days.
On day one, no one bat an eye as the snow came down; starting out as a light dusting on the window ledges before quickly growing heavy.
Around mid-day on day two, Bob was the first to comment on it—something about it being perfectly ideal—with his nose pressed against the glass in an attempt to look down below.
By day five, you couldn't even remember the last time it wasn't actively snowing. A thick blanket of white now sits on any outdoor surface of the building it could settle on. The electric fire and the building's heating system was only doing so much in the large space while you, Ava, and Yelena lie bundled up on the couch.
"This is ridiculous," Ava mutters under her breath. "Stuck in this damn place and we're still cold. Can't Valentina find us a mission in Hawaii or something?"
Bucky sighs from a corner of the room where he's quietly cleaning his weapons. "That would be too kind. With our luck, she'll send us to Siberia."
Alexei saunters into the room, a large crooked grin on his face. "Reminds me of winter as child. Everything stayed frozen for months. If enough snow, we would go sledding for hours, all us kids. Made for good neighborhood bonding time. So fun."
Yelena rolls her eyes, sinking lower into the couch cushions as she tugs the blanket tighter around her frame.
As you continue to watch the snow fall, your mind begins to replay Alexei's words—tumbling around in your head incessantly until it finally hits you.
"That's it!" you exclaim, suddenly sitting up straight. Four pairs of eyes snap to you in surprise, though no one says a word. "We should go sledding!"
The air goes completely still in the room. No one moves a muscle, almost scared that if they do, you'll actually move forward with the idea and drag them outside where it's far colder. Even Alexei is frozen in place. Much to their dismay, you grin and pop off the couch.
"Come on! Team bonding activity!"
Still, no one moves. It's as though the room itself is holding its breath. After a few tense seconds, Bucky is the first to break the silence with your name slipping gruffly into the air.
"It's cold outside," he mutters.
You scoff, hands finding your hips. "Is the Winter Soldier afraid of a little snow?"
His lips part in surprise, a little offended but fighting back a chuckle at the audacity. He wanted to point out the temperature, the idea of trudging through snow just to get anywhere, or even traffic. Instead, he shakes his head, the smallest smile tugging at his lips, before finally saying, "Fine. Everyone bundle up."
By the time the group makes it to Riverside Park, not a single person is unhappy at the prospect of being there; letting loose for the first time in years despite the frigid cold. Well, everyone except Bucky.
"Why the long face?"
He's quiet for a moment. "I'm too old for this," Bucky mumbles, his hands gripping the hard plastic sled in his hands tighter than necessary.
"Scared you'll break a hip?" you tease. A quick bump with your shoulder has him grunting and shaking his head. "You'll be fine, Buck. Besides, kids do this. We'll go down together."
Bucky winces almost imperceptibly, his gaze moving through the park. Kids are everywhere—screaming and laughing without a care in the world—while parents converse with other parents as they watch their kids go down the hill.
Then he spots Bob—who somehow convinced John to join him on the only other two-person sled they could find—clamber onto the plastic with the widest smile you've seen in weeks.
"Is that supposed to reassure me? You, the person that trips over air, steering a sled?"
Before you can respond, Ava suddenly calls out with a wave, "Hey! Barnes! Race you two to the bottom!" She hops on her sled before you or Bucky can even process.
Unfortunately for him, you're not about to lose.
Snatching the sled out of his hands to his bewilderment, you throw it to the ground and climb on before urging him to follow your lead.
He stands there for a second too long, glancing down at you before looking back at Ava who's already sliding forward to go down the hill. Reaching up and grabbing his gloved hand, you yank him down and force him to sit right behind you.
He barely has a moment to wrap his arms around you before the sled is moving, his legs spread around you in a miserable attempt to fit two grown adults on a child's sled. Cold air whips around you, freezing the tip of your nose, but it doesn't stop the laughter bubbling out when Bucky clings just a little bit tighter, pressing his chest into your back.
Ava successfully makes it down the hill first, much to your disappointment, and it only takes a second of you not watching where you're going before Bucky stiffens behind you.
Before you can blink, strong arms throw you to the side, forcing you into the snow just as the front of the sled rams into a tree with a sickening crunch. You groan, sitting up on your elbows. Your legs are still tangled with his before he quickly climbs off the sled and crawls closer to you.
With a gloved hand cupping your jaw, his blue eyes roam over you carefully, concern evident all over his face.
"Are you okay?" His tone is hushed and full of worry. "Are you hurt?" His other hand moves to your arm as he glances down; checking over your arms, your hands, your legs, before meeting your gaze once more.
"I'm fine, Bucky," you say with a short laugh. "Are you okay?"
"I'd say things can't get worse, but I'm here."
You smack him in the arm with a loud laugh, making Bucky grin.
Ava runs over, hair flying. "Are you two okay? Do you not look where you're going?"
The rest of the team joins you quickly, each one displaying various degrees of concern. Upon seeing that you're unharmed and Bucky's ego is just a little bruised, they all begin the trek back up the hill, leaving you and Bucky sitting alone in the snow.
"Remind me never to let you drive. Clearly you can't be trusted."
Your jaw drops, brows furrowing as you turn to look at him. "You think it's so easy to drive a sled? You steer then."
"That would involve me getting back on one, and that's not happening."
"Not even if I begged?"
Bucky stares at you, something twinkling in his eyes. "Wouldn't hurt to try, would it?"
You snort. "Fine, stay down here and sulk in the snow while I go have fun and try not to hit you on the way down." Ignoring his loud loud groan, you stand up and adjust your coat before turning to pick up the sled—only to find Bucky's beaten you to it.
"What kind of team leader would I be if I let you put your life in danger…again? No more, I'm driving."
With a shake of your head and a silent gesture for him to lead the way, Bucky stands, squares his shoulders, and heads back up the hill for another race.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅write something with a seasonal theme using the prompts below as inspiration. This can be cold, snowy, frosty, or holiday-themed⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅
The Rules:
‧͙*̩̩͙❆pieces must be at least 500 words and up to 5000 words in length; please us a 'read more' after the first 100 words
‧͙*̩̩͙❆works can be fluffy, angsty, or dark; please include warnings where relevant; you may opt to include 'author has chosen not to include warnings'
‧͙*̩̩͙❆tag this blog and add the tag #winterwhims25
‧͙*̩̩͙❆open to all fandoms
‧͙*̩̩͙❆we encourage inclusivity for fics; please ensure any custom banners include inclusive images
‧͙*̩̩͙❆you may choose as many prompts as you like to be inspired
‧͙*̩̩͙❆authors can submit up to three works
‧͙*̩̩͙❆Be kind to yourself and to others. We are here to support and include each other
‧͙*̩̩͙❆This event will run for a full-month, with an end date of January 13th
❅PROMPTS ARE BELOW THE CUT❅
Things:
❄️Getting lost at the holiday market
❄️A fall on the ice
❄️Tangled in string lights
❄️Find the perfect Christmas tree
❄️Power outage
❄️Too old to be sledding
❄️Making a snowperson
❄️Stuck in the snow
❄️A trip away from the cold weather
❄️Sick with the seasonal cold
❄️Missed flight
❄️Burnt holiday baking
❄️Lost at the store/mall
❄️A secret santa gone wrong
❄️A cozy night interrupted
❄️Volunteering at a food bank
❄️Losing your holiday cheer
❄️Forgotten at the holidays
❄️Too cold to get out of bed
❄️Warming your hands by the fire/heater
Dialogue:
⛄“I’m not merry. I'm really frigging un-merry.”
⛄“I burnt my tongue and now everyone must suffer.”
⛄“It’s so beautiful out. Almost worth freezing to death.”
⛄“There’s a storm outside. Much preferable to in here.”
⛄“You’re hogging the blankets.”
⛄“No one really likes this time of year. Family? Spending money? Being cold? Terrible.”
⛄“It’s okay. I have plans to not have plans.”
⛄“I’d say things can’t get worse but I’m here.”
⛄“Hey! That’s my sweater!”
⛄“I made this for you.”
⛄“Peppermint doesn’t belong in desserts. It belongs in hell.”
⛄“No one wants to be alone on the holidays.” “I do.”
⛄“I just want to go back to sleep.”
⛄“It’s slippery out… I found out the hard way.”
⛄“Neither of us want to go so why don’t we go together?”
⛄“FYI the berries on the table are decorative only.”
⛄“The laundry on the floor is for insulation.”
⛄“I’ve been banished from the kitchen.”
⛄“Are you hiding or stuck?”
⛄“I’m sitting with the cat. He’s cool.”
Characters- Curtis Everett x Single!mom Reader x Son!Jasper
W/C -800
Prompts - Getting lost at a holiday market and “I’m sitting with the cat. He’s cool.”
This is my submission for @the-slumberparty Winter Whims mini Challenge. @navybrat817 and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Thank you so much for hosting another lovely challenge and continuing to come up with prompts that spark the muse! Love you both! 🩵
Today is a big day for Curtis, and he is really hoping there is some holiday magic on his side. Because today Curtis is taking your son on a solo outing. You and Curtis have been dating for almost 3 years. Naturally with you being a single mom the two of you took it rather slow at first. Then about a year ago you finally felt comfortable enough to introduce him to your son Jasper. And honestly it went better than he could have imagined.
It's been a long road to get here and Curtis is aware of the significance of it all and he is trying not to be too intimidated. It's clear you trust him. After all this was supposed to be a family outing all 3 of you were supposed to check out this Christmas market together. But you weren't feeling well and rather than push yourself too hard you simply just gave Curtis a slight shrug and said "it's fine you two go on without me." In such a casual fashion.
Granted Curtis has logged plenty of hours with your son Jasper at this point. Helping with drop off and pick ups for school and extracurriculars. They've even started doing 'boys night' when you're working late or want to go out with your girlfriends. But this market is almost an hour away. It is a full day activity with just him and Jasper. This is definitely the biggest outing Curtis has done so far with your son and it makes his heart race with both joy and nerves.
He knows this is what you 3 have been building towards. A life, together, a family. The 3 of you and maybe even 1 more. You've talked about it of course you have. You made it very clear Curtis wasn't going to be able to meet your son if he wasn't actually going to stick around and so… he made sure to stick around. To open himself up to love and give love in return. And now here he is in a happy, healthy, loving relationship with you. And it is by far the best thing that's ever happened to him.
He's determined to make this day count. For all of you.
The day started off fine. The ride to the market was long but easy. As soon as they arrive Curtis and Jasper beeline it straight to the hot chocolate stand as soon as they arrived. They're having a blast checking out vendors and joking and paling around. And everything is going incredibly well. Or at least…it was.
Curtis isn't sure how this happened. One second he was at one of stands chatting with the vendor about bath salts and shower bombs. Jasper was right here with him one second and then the next second gone. He is trying not to panic. But how could he not? You trusted Curtis with your son. And now he may have lost him and he will never forgive himself!
He starts retracing his steps hoping Jasper maybe went back to one of the previous booths they stopped at. He assumes the market probably has a loud speaker system maybe he should find someone who works here and have them make an announcement…?
Curtis is doing his best to stay calm and figure out his next move when he hears it. Jaspers laugh. He follows that sound like his life depends on it and low and behold he turns the corner and he is finally able to breathe. As soon as he lays eyes on your beautiful little boy it's like his heart can finally start beating again.
His sigh of relief is audible. After sending a quick thanks to God, the universe or whoever else might be listing up there he makes his way over to your son.
Curtis approaches Jasper where he is sprawled on a rug playing with a fluffy grey cat. Turns out there is a book store stand and the owner happened to bring her cat Theodore with her. And somehow your son managed to find them.
Curtis let's Jasper play with the cat for a few more minutes with the owners permission of course. After which he has to explain to Jasper why he can't just wander off like that. He makes sure to keep his tone calm and even using techniques from all those Parenting reels he's watched and books he's been reading.
He doesn't realize it now but this is the moment when Curtis starts shifting from Mom's boyfriend into a co-parent. And it feels wonderful, and delightful and a little terrifying. But he wouldn't have it any other way.
Minus that little hiccup Curtis and Jasper have the best day. They get a whole lot of shopping done they both find gifts for Mama. They grab a hot chocolate for the road and jump in the car to race back home to you.
Summary: You wanted a peaceful NYE in. Jake has other plans..
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: PG NYE Kiss, Friends to Lovers, No description of reader given, Fluff, black cat reader, Golden retriever Jake
A/N: Winter Whims Mini Challenge for Navy and Ross’s @the-slumberparty for Winter Whims Mini Challenge
Prompts: A cozy night interrupted & “Neither of us want to go so why don’t we go together?”
You had planned this night carefully.
Not in the meticulous, colour‑coded way you planned work things or the quiet mental way you planned exits from conversations you didn’t want to have, but in the softer, more deliberate way that meant this is what I need. Lights low. Curtains drawn. Phone on silent. The TV murmuring something harmless you weren’t really watching. One drink poured, the good glass, because you weren’t punishing yourself for wanting peace.
New Year’s Eve didn’t feel sacred to you. It felt loud. Performative. A night where people pretended the calendar turning over meant something had been fixed.
You tucked your feet under yourself on the couch and sighed, settling in, letting your shoulders finally drop now that the night was yours. The cushions dipped just right beneath you, the room warm and dim, everything arranged the way you liked it. For a moment, you let yourself believe you might actually make it to midnight without anyone asking anything of you.
Then there was a knock.
Not tentative. Not apologetic. Three solid raps, sharp and confident, like the person on the other side already knew the answer and was just waiting for you to catch up.
You stilled, eyes flicking toward the door.
Slowly, deliberately, you turned your head and stared at it, unimpressed and a little betrayed, like the universe had personally decided to test you.
“Don’t you dare,” you muttered to the empty room, lifting your glass in warning.
The knock came again.
You didn’t rush. You didn’t jump up. You stayed exactly where you were for a few seconds longer, stubborn enough to hope whoever it was might rethink their life choices and leave.
But Jake knew where you lived. He knew your rules. And he knew, because he always did…exactly how long to wait before knocking a third time, that careful stretch of silence designed to make it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.
With a resigned breath, you stood and crossed the room.
You opened the door on a rush of cold air and Jake Jensen in a jacket that definitely wasn’t warm enough, shoulders dusted with winter chill, hair a little wind‑tossed, cheeks pink from the cold. His eyes were bright in that familiar, dangerous way that always put your guard up before he even spoke.
“Hey,” he said, grinning like he’d just won something.
“You’re freezing,” you said flatly.
“Worth it.” He shrugged. “Can I come in?”
You didn’t move aside.
“What do you want, Jake?”
He shifted his weight, hands shoved into his pockets. “Clay’s throwing a thing. I kinda have to show up.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
He nodded like he’d expected that. “Yeah. It is.”
You waited.
He leaned against the doorframe instead of stepping inside, eyes flicking past you to the warm, quiet space you’d built for yourself.
“Neither of us want to go,” he said carefully, like he was offering a solution to a mutual inconvenience. “So why don’t we go together?”
You blinked.
Then you rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt.
“You’re lying,” you said.
"I never." He gasped, hand to his chest. “I am reframing.”
“You’ve been busting to go to this party all week.” You rolled you're eyes at him.
“I like… the people,” he said, clearly fibbing. “And the vibes.”
“You want to go,” you said instead.
He huffed a quiet laugh, caught out but unbothered. “Yeah. I do,” he admitted. Then his expression softened, honest in a way that took the edge out of it. “I just don’t wanna go without you.”
You sighed, already feeling it..the way he’d planted himself in your doorway like a golden‑retriever-shaped obstacle. He wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t pleading.
He was waiting. Puppy wanting to play..
“Jake,” you warned.
He smiled, softening just enough to be dangerous.
You looked back at your couch. Your drink. The quiet.
Then back at him. Why couldn’t you ever tell him ‘No’
“Fine,” you said.
His face lit up instantly fists pumping in front of him. “Yes-”
“One hour,” you added. “One drink.”
He froze for half a second.
Then he answered way too fast.
“Midnight,” he countered. “As many drinks as you want. I’ll pay for your streaming next month.”
You narrowed your eyes. You held his gaze. Let him sweat, tongue pushing into your cheel
“Deal,”
The buzz hit him immediately.
You could see it. His shoulders lifting, his grin widening, energy sparking under his skin in a way that was impossible to miss. His eyes glittered behind his glasses, bright and alive, like he’d just been handed something precious and unexpected. He shifted on his feet, barely containing himself, excitement humming through him so openly it made your chest ache in a way you didn’t bother naming.
~#~#~#~
Clay’s place was already loud when you arrived. Music thumping, people spilling out onto the porch, breath fogging in the cold. Jake’s hand found your lower back the second you crossed the threshold, steady and familiar, not steering, just checking.
“You okay?” he asked near your ear.
“I will be,” you said. “Just get me that drink you promised so I have something to do with my hands.”
He laughed and practically jogged to the kitchen to make good on it.
Watching Jake at parties was… an experience.
He lit up. Talked with his hands. Laughed loud and easy. Introduced you like it mattered that you were there, as if you were part of the story he was telling, not an accessory for show. And through it all, he kept circling back, fingers brushing your arm, his hand warm at your back, checking in without hovering.
You caught yourself smiling more than once, at something Pooch said from across the room, at the way someone passed you a drink without making a fuss. You didn’t tense when Cougar handed you a refill, didn’t feel the old instinct to pull back. Somewhere between Jake’s easy presence and the low hum of conversation, you realised you were comfortable.
This didn’t feel like enduring something for his sake.
It felt like being let into a version of him you didn’t always get to see.
And then, slowly, it started to shift.
At some point…quiet enough that you almost missed it, Jake’s arm settled around your waist. Not possessive, not showy. Just there. Solid. Familiar. Like he’d decided you belonged at his side and didn’t feel the need to announce it.
He started talking about you more, too. Little things at first. How you met. A story from a year ago that made Pooch laugh. A comment about how you always knew where the good food was, how you were the one who kept him grounded.
You realised, with a small jolt, that he was showing you off.
Not in a loud way. Not like a performance. Just… proud. Jake wanted people to know you were starting to become important in his life.
That’s when the suspicion crept in.
Because it stopped feeling accidental.
It felt like a set up.
Like a date.
When the countdown started, the room pressed closer, voices rising, glasses lifted. Jake turned toward you instead of the crowd, expression suddenly quieter, steadier.
“Hey,” he said.
You looked up at him, a quiet sound slipping from you before you could stop it.
“Hey,” the word coming softer, your tone giving you away more than you meant to. Not guarded. Not sharp. Just… aware.
You knew what was about to happen. You just weren’t sure yet what it meant that your chest tightened at the thought.
“It’d mean a lot,” he said softly. “If you stayed right here.”
Something warm and uncertain curled low in your stomach.
But you didn’t look away.
Just hope.
“Don’t get weird about it,” you said.
“I won’t,” he promised. But you doubted it, hell you doubted you wouldn't, not with the way you felt heat flushing down your own neck.
At midnight, when the room erupted, you let yourself lean in.
The kiss started gentle.
Careful. Like both of you were testing the ground beneath your feet.
His lips brushed yours first, barely there, warm and hesitant, as if he was waiting for you to pull back…or lean in. You did the second without quite realising it, the soft press of your mouth answering him, curious and unsure and achingly slow. It felt different than you expected. Softer. Realer. Like the rest of the night had narrowed down to just this small, suspended space between you.
His breath hitched when you lingered, when your lips stayed instead of retreating. One of his hands came up to your cheek, thumb warm against your skin, not urging, just grounding-like he needed to feel you there. The world kept cheering somewhere around you, glasses clinking, voices shouting, but it all blurred, muffled by the way his mouth moved against yours again, a little surer this time.
You felt it shift then.
The hesitation melted into something warmer, more wanting. Your lips parted without thinking, and Jake followed the invitation instinctively, the kiss deepening in a way that made your pulse stumble. There was heat there now, unspoken and contained, his mouth fitting to yours like he’d been waiting for permission to want you this badly.
His fingers brushed your cheek again, then slid into your hair, not gripping, just holding you there as if he was memorising this too; the way you tasted, the way you leaned into him, the way the noise of the entire room seemed to fall away until there was nothing left but the two of you, breathing each other in.
When you pulled back, breathless, you shook your head.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Your hand was still splayed against his chest, fingers curled lightly in the fabric of his shirt, like you needed the solid proof of him there to steady yourself. His heart was racing under your palm, you could feel it, fast and real and your own head felt a little floaty, the room slow to come back into focus around you.
Jake swallowed, lips parted like he might say something, then thought better of it. His eyes flicked down to your mouth, then back up again, wide and a little stunned, like he hadn’t quite caught up to what just happened either.
You were the first to recover.
You let your hand drop, stepping back half a pace, reaching instinctively for the familiar shield of your humour before the moment could tip you too far off-balance.
“This was the plan, wasn’t it.”
He smiled then, still a little breathless, unapologetic in that way that somehow only made him more endearing.
“Only way I could think to do it where you wouldn’t kick me for it.”
You huffed a laugh, the sound grounding you again. “Smartest idiot I know.”
~#~#~#~#~
You didn’t stay long after that.
Jake noticed before you even said anything, nodding like he’d been waiting for it.
“Yeah,” he said. “I was hoping you’d say the word.”
You slipped your fingers into his before you could overthink it, the gesture small but deliberate. His hand closed around yours instantly, like it had always been meant to be there.
“Do you want to-” you started, then hesitated, suddenly shy. “You could come back with me. If you want.”
He stopped walking.
Turned fully toward you, eyes bright and warm in the spill of porch light.
“Actually,” he cut in gently, squeezing your hand, “I was gonna ask if you’d come back to mine.”
Your breath hitched. You shook your head once, smiling despite yourself.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He beamed, unabashed and thrilled, already sticking his free hand out to flag down a taxi. “Good. ’Cause I’ve got a lot more kisses left if you’re keen.”
You laughed softly, leaning closer.
“I think I can handle that.”
“Perfect,” he said, tugging you in just enough to brush his mouth against yours again. “Just promise not to hiss at me in the morning.”
“No promises,” you warned.
He grinned like that only made it better.
When the taxi pulled up, he opened the door for you, still holding your hand like it was something he didn’t intend to let go of.
You left together, really together…the noise of the party fading behind you as the car pulled away, the new year already starting exactly where you wanted it to.
Summary: You have lost your Christmas Spirit and plan on hibernating until it's over. But when Priestly finds out he makes it his mission to restore it, and refuses to let you spend the day alone.
Word Count: 2630
A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty 's Winter Whims Mini Challenge the prompt is “I’m not merry. I'm really frigging un-merry.” and wil be in bold and italic in the fic.
Warnings/Tags: Loss of Christmas Spirit, Priestly being a sweetheart, fluff, festive activities.
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
The shop was a hive of activity. People popping in for a quick bite to eat before continuing on with their Christmas shopping. Priestly was in the zone, making subs like a pro with Piper's help. Tish was manning the register, while Jen took the orders at the counter and kept an eye on the online orders coming in. Trucker was floating between all stations helping out where needed. And you? You were clearing tables and washing pots thankful for the distraction it provided you.
Eventually the rush began to die down and the sounds in the shop turned from clattering plates, the beep of the card machine and the register drawer, accompanied by Priestly's calls of ‘order up!’ To a gentle chatter of the few remaining customers.
As you made your way back out to the front of the shop you heard the others talking about their Christmas plans. Grabbing the remainder of dirty pots, you tried to retreat into the back while Piper was telling the others how excited she was to spend her first Christmas with Noah and Julia. You weren't that lucky though.
“What about you?” She called over. “When are you heading off? You usually go back to your parents don't you?”
You can feel everyone's eyes on you waiting for your response. “Oh um I'm not this year. Can't afford the tickets,” you shrug.
“So what are you doing?” Priestly asks frowning in confusion why you hadn't said anything.
Plastering on a fake smile you shrug slightly, “thought I might catch up on some sleep, watch some telly, eat a load of junk food.”
“Really? That's your Christmas plan?” Tish studies you. “C'mon what are you really doing? Is there a guy?”
“What? No. No guy. That's really what I'm doing.” Looking at their expressions ranging from disbelief, shock and sympathy you double down. “Guys I'm fine really. Guess I'm just not in the Christmas spirit this year,” you add before heading out back again.
Priestly watches you retreat while the others go back to chatting. Frowning to himself he follows you through to the back.
“You sure you're ok with your plans?” He starts. “You're normally so into the Christmas period and I know how much you look forward to going home.”
“Yeah I'm fine.”
“Uh-huh. Sure you are,” he counters, raising his brows, and breathing out a big sigh. He steps closer. “What's going on? You don't seem your usual merry self.” Watching you as you pause, bracing your hands on the counter in front of you before turning slowly to face him.
“I’m not merry. I'm really frigging un-merry. It sucks!”
“That's why you've been avoiding the subject,” he muses. “Why didn't you just tell us? Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because... I didn't want people feeling sorry for me. And… I've got no Christmas spirit and didn't want to ruin it for you guys.”
Priestly felt something break inside him at that moment. He hated how broken you looked and sounded right now.
“So I'm just gonna hibernate until it's over and then get drunk for New Year's,” you continued.
“Come with me,” he blurts out.
“What?”
“Spend Christmas with me.”
“Did you miss the part where I didn't want to ruin it for you?”
“Ok, if I can get you in the Christmas spirit will you come with me?”
“Won't your parents mind?”
“Are you kidding? They'd love it. They always complain they never meet any of my friends. You'd be doing me a favour.”
“Won't they think it strange you're bringing a random girl back though?”
“First you're not a random girl. They've heard about you. And so what if they think there's more to it,” he shrugs. “It could be like we're in our own Christmas movie. Maybe we'll even fall in love. Who doesn't love that troupe?” He grins.
“Ok,” you agree, smiling. “If you're sure they won't mind, and you can get me in the Christmas spirit… I'll come with you.”
Clicking his fingers and pointing at you Priestly can feel himself beaming. Truthfully he thought he'd have to work harder to get you to agree.
“Two days to get you in the mood. You know what I mean,” he says, giving you a look at the amusement on your face. “Operation Christmas Spirit is a go! Prepare for the festivities to begin.”
Day One
As you approached the first stop on Priestly's ‘Operation Christmas Spirit,’ you realised where he was taking you.
The Christmas Market.
“You ready for some festive cheer?” He asks you, grinning.
You look at Priestly and then back to the market in front of you. Taking in the twinkling lights overhead, the gentle sound of Christmas carols drifting your way, and the scent of spices with their unmistakable smell of Christmas. Linking your arm through his, you smile and head into the market.
Wandering around you have to admit you do feel a little more merriment seeping in. Although you're not sure if that's to do with the market itself, or the company you think to yourself, watching Priestly enthusiastically trying all the free food and drink samples. And his insistence that you needed to have your photos taken at Santa's grotto. ‘To fully embrace the magic of Christmas.’
“So what do you think?” Priestly asks you a few hours later, as you reach the end of the market. A hopeful look in his eyes.
“I had a really nice time.”
“Yeah? Feeling more festive yet?”
“Maybe. A little bit,” you tell him, holding your hand up, finger and thumb indicating a little.
Priestly nods in thought, “not a bad start. Are you ready for our next stop?”
The next stop as it turned out was the holiday lights train. A moving festival of lights, weaving its way through Santa Cruz.
Day Two
“Ok everyone, first we're going to prepare the base. I want you to wrap your wire frame with moss and twine to create a full, soft base. Then you'll need to gather 3 or 4 sprigs of the different foliage in front of you to form small, fan-shaped bouquets and secure the stems with wire.”
Wreath making.
Not what you expected Priestly to pick, but here you were. Both of you concentrating trying to follow along with the demonstration the lady at the front of the workshop was giving.
“Add the next bundle,” she continued, “slightly overlapping the previous one so the stems are hidden, and continue around the circle. When you reach the beginning, tuck the last bundle under the first and secure it. Add in smaller sprigs to fill any gaps. Once completed choose from your larger decorative items to add to it and secure a ribbon for hanging. Like so.”
“This is a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.” Priestly whispered to you.
“Yeah, I'm not sure anyone's going to want to hang this,” you laughed gesturing to your attempt.
“You know I once saw a wreath made entirely out of beer cans.” He announced.
You turned to look at him.
“What,” he shrugs, “it was pretty cool.”
“Ok final stop,” he tells you as you wander your way down to the harbour.
You look around confused. You don't see anything particularly festive, just a lot of people milling around. Turning to your friend you ask, “what are we doing here?”
“You'll see,” he smiles back. “You want a drink?”
You see him making his way back over to you two drinks in hand, you gratefully accept a cup when he holds it out to you.
Just as you are about to ask him what you are waiting for, you hear the sound of several boat horns cutting through the still night air. And into view come a parade of boats of varying sizes all adorned with hundreds if not thousands of LED lights. All twinkling away, transforming the waterway into a shimmering canvas. The still water reflecting them back perfectly.
“It's so beautiful,” you whisper to Priestly. “I had no idea they even did this.” You lean into him and he wraps an arm around you.
As the last of the boats passed through, fireworks end the show. Priestly sneaks a look over at you watching in wonder. His heart swells.
Once the last of the fireworks has ended and the crowd's applause has died down you turn to face Priestly, standing on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. “Thank-you.”
He could feel his pulse quickening and a warmth develop in his chest, creeping its way upwards. Warming his cheeks.
“Does that mean ‘Operation Christmas Spirit’ was a success?” He asks hopefully.
“Yeah,” you admit, laughing at the dance he does in celebration.
Truth be told though, you thought that probably had more to do with the man standing next to you than the activities themselves. He saw you. When everyone else was willing to buy your lie. He saw you and went out of his way for you.
“So you gonna come with me for Christmas then?”
“Only if you're sure your parents won't mind?”
“Are you kidding? My mom's been so excited since I floated the idea past her. I think she's more excited to meet you than to see me.”
It's Christmas Eve and you are in the car with Priestly on the way to his parents. He's sitting behind the wheel tapping his fingers to the song playing on the radio. You have no idea what track it is, it's not really your kind of music, but you are following the ‘driver picks the music’ rule. Glancing over at him he looks completely relaxed. You on the other hand are a ball of nerves. Your leg has been gently bouncing since you got in the car and you're currently discreetly wringing your hands in your lap.
“Relax. You're gonna be fine. They'll love you.” Priestly tries to reassure you.
Not as discreet as you thought.
“So what does Christmas in the Priestly household look like?” You ask to try and ease your nerves.
“Nothing fancy,” he glances over at you. “Christmas day we usually open presents mid morning, after everyone's up and had breakfast. Mom doesn't let anyone in the kitchen while she's making dinner. She always shoo's me and dad out of there. Uh then we play games in the afternoon. Y'know cards or boardgames or something like that. And then there's usually a snack spread to help yourself to in the evening. Probably watch a bit of TV and bed. The day after if no-one's at work we just have a chill day. Thought we could head back in the afternoon if you're ok with that?”
“Yeah of course. Whenever you normally would.”
“Here we are,” Priestly announces as he pulls up in front of a brightly decorated house. “You ready?”
Taking a deep breath you nod as you open the car door. “As ready as I'm gonna be.”
You have only just made it to the door with your bags when it's flung open.
“Boaz!” A woman calls out, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for a hug. “I'm so happy you're here.”
Letting go of him she turns to you. “You must be y/n. It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you.”
You heard Priestly groan next to you.
Smiling, you extend your hand, “it's nice to meet you too Mrs Priestly.”
“Oh that sounds so formal. Call me Suzanna, please,” she says, taking your hand.
You nod your head politely. Holding out the tin you've been clutching. “I uh, brought some homemade shortbread to say thank you for having me.”
“They are really good,” Priestly added.
“I had to stop him eating them all on the way here.”
“It's true. She did,” he grins.
Priestly's mom stood watching this interaction with a small smile on her face. “Thank you dear. That's very kind of you. You didn't have to bring us anything though, we're happy to have you here.”
Peering round his mom in the doorway Priestly asked “Where's dad at?”
“Oh he's inside. Come on in.” She gestures leading you both through to where his dad is sitting watching the game, beer in hand.
“Jonathan look who's here,” she announces.
“Hey dad.”
“Good to see you son. Is this her?” Nodding in your direction.
Priestly sighed before introducing you. “Dad, this is y/n.”
“It's nice to meet you Sir.”
“Call me Jonathan.” He smiles, “Sir makes me feel old. Gotta say I was surprised when I heard Boaz was bringing someone with him this time. I don't think he's ever brought a girl home.”
“Alright, alright,” Priestly groaned. Can we at least get settled in before you two start?”
“Aww sweetie,” his mum rubs his arm. “We're just excited you're both here. You're in your old room and I've set up the guest room for you dear,” she says, turning to you. “Go and get yourselves settled in. Oh and Boaz,” she says quietly, holding onto his arm. “She's very pretty.”
“So your parents seem nice,” you whisper to Priestly as you make your way to your rooms.
“Yeah. They just can't wait to embarrass me.” He groans.
Pausing in thought you lay your hand on his arm to stop him. “Have you really never brought anyone to meet your parents before?”
Rubbing the back of his neck he mumbles something you don't quite hear, before he repeats it a little louder. “No.” Clearing his throat, “this is you. I'm just in the next room if you need anything,” pointing at the door. “And the bathrooms just at the end of the hall. Get settled and then we can head back down so they can embarrass me some more. I'm sure mom's hunting out a photo album as we speak.”
“Thanks.” You laugh heading into the guest room.
Christmas morning.
You wake early, laying in the guest room for a while staring at the ceiling. Deciding you're not going back to sleep you pull on your cardigan and head down to the kitchen. Silently hoping that Priestly is already up. No such luck though. As you enter the kitchen you are greeted by the sight of his mum sitting at the table.
“Morning dear. Merry Christmas,” she greets, a little too cheery for that time of the morning.
You muster up the most enthusiastic smile you can before caffeine and wish her a Merry Christmas in return.
She points to the counter, “Coffee hasn't been made long if you'd like some. And we've got cereal or toast if you're hungry.”
You head over to the counter to pour yourself a cup of coffee.
“I hope you don't mind me saying,” she starts, smiling at you as you head back to join her at the table, coffee in hand. “I'm really happy you're here. I haven't seen Boaz this happy in a long time.”
The two of you fall into easy conversation after that.
Priestly pads his way downstairs heading for the kitchen, stopping when he hears your voice followed by his mom's. Pausing outside the kitchen door he listens with a smile at how the two of you are getting on before entering the kitchen himself.
After exchanging Merry Christmas’s his mom excuses herself to go and find her husband, who apparently is outside tinkering with some lights. Leaving you and Priestly alone in the kitchen.
He’s grabbing you both another drink when he feels you wrap your arms around him from behind. Resting your face against his back.
“What's this for?” He asks, turning slowly in your hold and wrapping his arms around you.
“Just thank you.” You whisper. “For not listening to me, for bringing me here, for being you.”
_______________________________________
A/N: Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed it. I would love to hear what you thought. ❤️💚
Hoping to partake in the Winter Whims Mini Challenge. Thanks to @the-slumberparty for having 20 prompts for Things and 20 for Dialogues! I'm going to roll for my prompts.
While I will end up with a total of four options, I will not require myself to use all of them, this is just a guide for me to prevent choice paralysis.
Things:
1. ❄️Getting lost at the holiday market
12. ❄️Burnt holiday baking
Dialogue:
9. ⛄“Hey! That’s my sweater!”
14. ⛄“It’s slippery out… I found out the hard way.”
I can definitely work with these. But which character? 🤔
