#Christmas Gifts for Grumpy People | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

priniya · 1 year ago

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🔮 OPPOSITES ATTRACT

synopsis. a quiet slytherin and a loud gryffindor find themselves on a chilly evening, which results in something unexpected — at least for people around them. the oldest weasley’s daughter finds herself infatuated with nott’s only child and vice versa, even if their worlds seem so different, being apart just doesn’t feel right.

notes. theodore nott x weasley!reader. slightly sunshine x grumpy (pretend you’re a ginger if ur not). part 2 containing the date, thoughts?

theodore nott never thought he would be given a chance to love and be loved, upon all the terrible mistakes he has made. and maybe it seemed silly for a sixteen years old to say, but with an upcoming war, he wasn’t so sure if he could live through it.

theodore nott never thought he would have someone to call his own, someone to help him, when times get tough or someone who would understand him wordlessly. to be fair, theodore nott never thought he deserved anything like that, so the surprise on his face, when he found someone who was involuntarily willing to be his person was enormous.

he was walking around the crowded streets of the city, the dim lighting allowing him to see muggles running around with different expression on every other face he has passed — some of them were happy, cheering the slowly creeping holiday on them, some of them were exhausted and/or angry, probably from trying to find a perfect gift for someone and failing. just watching them gave him some sort of comfort, he had never had to look for gifts too much, his father wasn’t keen on being all festive and christmas was just any other day. the exception itself was looking for presents for his friends, which never had troubled him so much he looked exhausted.

he was in his thoughts, when he felt like he collided with someone. his eyebrows were squinted as he looked down on the red-haired girl, whose face was all red, either from cold or embarrassment. though, there was something so familiar about the girl that made him study her face for a brief second, the tea stain on his unzipped jacket didn’t seem to bother him at all, not as much as the familiarity of the girl.

“oh my god, i am so sorry, sir.” she let out ashamed that she didn’t look where she was going and that she probably ruined someone’s evening with her no sugar, lemon tea. it was then, when the familiar girl finally gave up and looked at the person she rudely bumped into.

“nott?” her words weren’t coated with layers of disgust and regret that out of all the people in london that night, she bumped into theodore nott. her words had surprised and confused undertones, almost as if she didn’t mind seeing him there. now, he obviously recognized his attacker — y/n weasley, a girl he sits behind in history of magic, a twin sister of potter’s best friend, someone who should hate him with burning passion.

“are you alright?” redhead’s question took him off guard.

theo was expecting something else, like a mockery of the fact that he was walking amongst muggles without hexing them all. though to be honest, theodore never hated muggles, well, yeah, he said some stupid shit, when he was younger and he was far from proud, but it was the need to appease his father. he definitely didn’t expect to see the worried manner in her, her brows scrunched as she tried to read his emotions, while standing in front of him in silence.

“theo…?” repeated y/n. he wasn’t alright and he didn’t know if he should show it. for merlin’s sake, he really wanted to get so much things out of his system, but venting to a weasley? he knew better than that — she would probably go around, and spread out the word about everything she heard from him.

nott was about to mumble something in response, when her eyes flickered with concern, demolishing all his justification why shouldn’t he talk to her for longer than needed. she was genuine, not caring that ron and harry weren’t on a good terms with him, she wanted to know, and help if possible.

so, theo simply gave up the act. “uh, no. not really.” he confessed, confirming all the suspicions she got to gather from observing him for a few minutes, when he thought of an answer. her expression changed from concerned to slightly sad, even.

before the boy could realize, he was sat in one of the small coffee shops beside her, a half empty, steamy cup of hot chocolate in his hands as they talked. something was so incredibly off about the way they conversed, first time in a while, he never wanted to conversation to end, just like when he was talking to his friends. his body itched at the thought that soon both of them would have to come to their respective houses and the talk would be just a memory that never happened again.

he had to admit that y/n’s presence was soothing. it was like the smell of a freshly printed new book, a cigarette on a foggy morning, a sensation of someone’s nails gently scratching the inside of his palm. the last one was a habit his mom developed to calm him down before she died, leaving him with an aching need for someone to find out about his perk and do it when he needs.

her muffled laughter filled his ears as he watched the girl cover her lips with a palm, he couldn’t help but smile. the gloomy atmosphere that he brought with his tiny vent was long gone, since she declared it her mission to make him feel better. so, since he wasn’t a big talker himself, she let him listen to all the stories from when she was growing up. even though he never experienced a family like hers, a family that cared for each other, it was comforting.

his eyes darted to the clock hung up on a wall, followed by hers and a long sigh that left his lips. his fingers ran through his curls as he parted his lips to bid goodbyes, though y/n was faster. “we could meet up here some other time, if you want.” she gave him a shy smile, the one he never thought he would see on her face.

y/n weasley wasn’t the shy type of girl, she was a big talker, a smart-ass with witty comebacks and a obnoxiously loud aura coating her small frame, though right now, upon his gaze that wandered around her face for quite some time now, she grew shyer.

“uh.” stuttered theo. “yeah, i guess it’s a good idea.” his reply made her smile go bigger, and in the back of his head, it felt like a reward for the decision he just made, some kind of reassurance that he did something good.

“perfect.” she grinned, taking the two of their cups and taking them to the shop’s kitchen, revealing that either she works there, or she’s just insanely crazy for barging into someone’s workplace as an unwanted stranger. “there’s a fireplace in the back.” weasley added, taking his hand in hers before he could even refuse (he wouldn’t though).

the tips of her long nails gently grazed his palm, when she led him the back, greeting a few of her coworkers. her touch on his skin ached, almost burnt, although if that’s what the insides of a normal, fireplace without floo powder felt like, he could grow to like it, only if a part of her body was pressed against his. few minutes later theo’s hand felt empty as he watched her disappear in green flames, having bid their goodbyes.

***

theo hated that feeling. this warm, strange feeling that coated his heart whenever he thought about the obnoxious gryffindor, who he met at those muggle streets. nevertheless, he found himself unable to think about someone else. he was replying to a letter pansy has sent him, and the only thing he had on his mind was y/n, he wondered if ginny told her about her little getaways with theo’s best friend, if all her brothers got back to their house, and — if she thought about him.

his hands throbbed. his fingers wrapped tightly around the quill, before putting it down on his deck. why on earth would he text her? it was one accidental meeting at some crowded street, one conversation that shouldn’t mean anything to them.

nott squeezed his eyes, the muscles on his face tensed as he focused on the paper in front of him, scribbling down a few words in his neat handwriting. a long sigh has left his lips, his eyes tracing the sentence he wrote for her. shit, why would he even do that? if any of his friends knew, he’d have been doomed — one weasley hanging around their friend group was enough, but he didn’t want to push draco nor blaise’s limits.

on a christmas’ eve, he went out for another walk, slightly hoping in the back of his mind that he’d accidentally bump into her again. this time, theodore would make sure to hear her laugh more often, to see her teeth, when she smiles or to watch as she gets shyer upon his gaze on her face.

his feet got him into a familiar looking café, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion — he couldn’t pinpoint from where he knew the place — and looked around. then, he heard it.

“theo!” a female voice rang in his ears. the boy turned his face, a smile slipping onto his lips as he realized where he was. the god damned café y/n was working at. “what can i get you?” a grin spread across her face, visibly delighted to see him there, almost as if she hoped for it.

her forearms laid on the counter as her body leaned a little closer, her hair pinned up in a ponytail that probably got ruined during her shift from running around the place, having a chat with each customer every now and then, a pinkish tint on her cheeks, maybe from the heat in the back or maybe, because he was there.

it took him a second to realize that he was staring with his mouth slightly parted. “uh—” he stuttered, getting a small, barely audiable giggle in response. “i just came to see you.” he blurted out. thank god his ears were covered by the beanie, because just by saying those six words got him all flustered.

“theo.” his name sounded so well coming from her. theodore wanted to hear it again, again, and again. it was melodic, like most beautiful song he’s ever heared. how could he get so whipped after one hangout?

“i hoped you’d come by.” she confessed shyly. “i have something for you in the back, could you give me five minutes? i gotta tell the manager i’m taking a break.” she beamed at him sweetly, rushing off to the back, taking off the green apron that hung on her waist in the meantime.

when she came back, she was still wearing the café’s shirt with a small, green logo, black jeans, and was carefully walking towards his table with a neatly wrapped package and on a top of that a plate with a big piece of some sort of chocolate cake, two drinks (the same as last time), and a cookie. her hair wasn’t in a ponytail anymore, ginger strands falling into her shoulders as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

“you– you got me something?” a question left theo’s mouth, leaving him all surprised — the strange feeling warming him up from the inside. he took a big sip of the hot chocolate in front of him, hardly minding that he burnt his tongue, he didn’t want to say anything stupid. “y/n, we talked once and you… got me something?” he asked once again, not believing his own eyes.

the girl just smiled wider, passing the box towards him. “uh. yeah.” she answered, shrugging. “last time, you said that you never really celebrated christmas the right way, so… please open it.” she tried explaing herself, but gave up at the end, pushing the box further with her fingertips. “please?”

shit.

if she didn’t ask, if she didn’t give him those eyes and that smile. maybe he would be able to refuse, think of some lame excuse that wouldn’t hurt her feelings and give her the box back. but y/n was so sweet, and thought of him hard enough to prepare him a gift.

for half a second, theodore could see something flicker in her eyes, when his lean fingers gently pulled the green ribbon, ripping the gift paper afterwards. the gift turned out to be a sweater, a hand-made one that made the feeling come back to him.

the sweater was dark green, in the similar shade of his tie or the snake symbol on his robes, it had a large, dark blue letter T with a silver outline. his eyes scanned the piece of clothing, the corner of his lips going slightly upwards. “you got me your mom’s iconic sweater?” asked theo.

his mind was filled with different thoughts and emotions right now. he could never call y/n weasley a sweet girl, not because it wasn’t true, but because it would be an understatement — she was the sweetest, or at least somewhere in that range. his cheeks almost hurt from smiling at her, and never in his life nott had felt it.

“actually…” her cheeks started getting a little more pinkish than usual. “it’s based on my mom’s sweaters, i did it on my own. it might not be perfect—" y/n started rambling in nervousness, afraid that the boy won’t be happy about getting a meaningless piece of fabric from her.

“y/n, i love it.” theodore’s words were like honey to y/n’s ears, she gave him a small smile, not really expecting him to gently grab her hand out of sudden. the reason behind it? even theo didn’t know (probably to ease her nerves).

when he realized what he did, he wanted to take his hand back and mutter a quiet apology, the crime scene awkward as much as only possible. although, from the corner of his eye, he noticed that the pink on her face intensified, few more minutes of skin-to-skin contact, and she would turn into a tomato, so his hand stayed on hers, taking the chance and intertwining their fingers together.

“would you– uh,” the redhead started, stumbling over her own words, easily losing focus, each time his thumb stroked her hand, a tiny smirk hovering over his lips. “like to, uh, come here once in a while, you know… until the break’s over? keep me company, maybe?”

and he did. how couldn’t he? this girl was constantly on his mind ever since she bumped into him on the streets and spent literal hours at the café.

although, beside just keeping her company during the winter break — but also at school. he grew so fond of her (and believe me, it worked both ways) that cutting their fresh friendship short was something he couldn’t let happen. so… even though her younger sister was already swaying her way into theodore’s friend group, y/n seemed like a different topic.

theodore nott liked sharing. as unbelievable as it sounds, he really did. whenever he had something he enjoyed, he was willing to share, he was the type of person to give away his last cigarette to one of his friends, but the thought of sharing y/n weasley never crossed his mind. he wanted her all to himself, so… their hangouts always contained just the two of them.

small study dates in the library, late night walks around the courtyard, meet-ups in the room of requirement, picnics in the astronomy tower, while smoking some pot and cigarettes together.

back then, it felt strictly platonic. even if they called it their little dates, nott had a feeling they weren’t moving past the friendship line, while his emotions towards the girl were getting more and more serious. nevertheless, theodore was confident, but not confident enough to ask her out — to confess his silly crush without the fear creeping up on him that y/n would reject him and turn his dreams into nightmares.

***

the weather outside was getting better with each day until spending time inside the castle was unbearable. it was around the time, theo decided to finally push his luck and ask the girl of his dream out. ever since he woke up, he was nervously fidgeting with everything that got to his hands and when then classes were to start, it only got worse.

“you alright, theo?” a whisper left y/n’s mouth as she stood next to him in potions, her elbow nudging him lightly, trying to catch his attention.

merlin. the way his name sounded so wonderful on her tongue. if it wasn’t for the small attention-grabber, he would definitely accidentally ignore the question to daydream about how sweetly her voice is.

“no, i mean– yes, yes i am.” he stuttered. “i just– can i ask you a question?” she nodded, making his stomach turn around. “would you, uh– like to go out to hogsmeade with me? like on a date?” the question left his lips.

his throat went dry as he waited years for an answer (which was actually just about two seconds, theo’s brain just got really dramatic from stress), legs giving up, so he had to lean his palms on the table.

“f’course.” weasley grinned, not minding the blush that spread all over her face, just from the ask. “i thought you’d never ask, really.” she giggled, turning her eyes away for a second, before flashing him another beam of hers.

nott’s face was now bright pink. “i– what?” he was struggling to form a logical sentence. “you wanted me to–?” the boy was supposed to finish his thought, though it didn’t really sit well with snape who interrupted their little talk, postponing it until the evening.

the two of them were walking somewhere outside, laughing about something so insignificant, when the situation from classes popped into his mind. “so… about that date. you really want to?” asked nott.

he expected any kind of answer — yes, no, maybe, you should guess, nah — whatever was only possible. however, the feeling of her lips on his wouldn’t cross his mind. she kissed him. y/n has kissed him, leaving him breathless, when she pulled away.

“does that answer your question?” redhead chuckled, her fingers still curled up against the collar of his white shirt. he shook his head, still mind-blown. “yes, theodore faustus nott, i was dying to hear you ask me out on a date. whatever we have between us, i wanted it to move forward and go on a date with you.”

she laughed. “you really think i’d spend hours crotcheting a sweater for a guy i met few days earlier if i didn’t feel something? theo, i almost passed out when you touched my hand months ago.” another laugh left her lips that were now so close to his, clouding his mind with one certain thing.

upon hearing all those words, the boy couldn’t stop himself anymore, he pressed his mouth against hers, savouring the moment. cherishing the fact that she wanted him like he wanted her.

“the date is still a thing, yeah?” y/n smiled as her nose brushed his.

“you’re gonna love it.” he answered, grinning.

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #pansy parkinson x ginny weasley #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #theodore nott fic #theo nott x you #theo nott fic #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys fic #theo nott rec

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f10werfae · 2 years ago

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Sugar Sweet Thong

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Wife!Reader

warning: After Y/n gets a new thong, away up in his cabin where no one can touch her but him, her wild man of a husband can’t keep his hands off her (Major Dom Henry)

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

requests are open/likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Baby, how did your little gift exchange thing go today? n’ what’s behind your beautiful body?”Henry asked watching his girl creep in through the front door, a clearly visible Victoria Secret bag in her hands. “It went well” She said shortly, her act falling once Henry patted his knees, beckoning her to sit on his beefy thighs; a strong arm curling around her waist. “Well what’d ya get sugar? C’mon n’ let me see, even brought more firewood in so we can snuggle in close tonight”

He growled nuzzling his nose against her cheek, his lips pressing a sloppy kiss onto her jaw. “We actually did something a little different this year, w-we did a thong exchange, so we all-“

“So you all bought each other thongs huh? Go on baby, show me your pretty new lace on for me to play with” Henry leant back in the arm chair, Y/n easily cuddling back with him, instantly missing his body heat. Henry’s arm around her waist softly stroked her stomach, his fingers teasing the rim of her underwear

“But that’s embarrassing! I can just hold it up for youu” Y/n whined shoving her face in his neck, the smell of pinewood and cologne filling her nose, his chequered over-shirt unbuttoned to reveal a tight white shirt.

A year ago Henry took a trip to the closest town for new tools, his eyes immediately caught onto the sweet little thing working in her grandparent’s candy shop. Dressed in a lavender dress she always greeted him with a smile, clinging onto his burly arms every time they walked about town, gaining a few stares as people thought ‘How could such a grumpy thing get that light?’

Of course once Henry convinced her to elope, it only made sense that she moved out with him to his isolated luxurious cabin out on the slopes. Their wedding consisted of just her family, Henry’s being nowhere in site but that didn’t bother any of them, frankly Y/n’s parents were just glad she was finally married despite her still being in her early 20s; for a man in his 30s like Henry to want their daughter’s hand in marriage, that was a gift.

“You’re my wife, if anythin the lace is the frame for my pretty picture. Now go get the damn thong on” Henry said more dominantly slapping Y/n’s ass causing her to squeal and giggle to their shared bedroom.

Pulling the thong up her thighs, Y/n couldn’t help but feel confident at the sight of the new lace on her body, when her friend’s words came back to her. “Come on Y/n, think of it as a present for both you and your grumpy ol’ man” Lucy giggled handing Y/n the bag.

Putting on one of Henry’s plaid shirts over her, she walked back out to the armchair in front of the log fire, wearing nothing underneath but her new thong. “Well?” Henry asked taking another swig of beer, throwing his cap onto the floor.

Y/n shyly pulled up the shirt revealing it to her husband, causing him to sit up and lean forward, his nose hitting her mound. “Sugar, you decorated my flower with another pretty flower, how thoughtful of you” He said looking up at her before taking his tongue and striping a lick up her thinly covered pussy.

“W-what are you doing Hen?” Y/n asked threading her fingers through his messy curls, his, “Kissing my pretty pussy” Henry growled placing kisses all over, finally setting one on her clit, causing his woman to slightly jolt in his hold. Henry leant back, unbuckling the belt she had recently gotten him for Christmas, his jeans falling to just his knees.

“Sit on my lap baby, get comfortable with your man, tell me about your day, wan’ hear all about it” Nodding Y/n sat back on his lap, the only thing between her pussy and his thick cock, being her lace thong. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other starting to slowly rub her clit through the lace as she talked.

“W-we went to starbucks, oh fuck, and- and then”

“Language baby” Henry growled slapping her pussy out of nowhere, before going back to slowly playing with her nub, his other arm making sure she doesn’t wiggle away from him.

“T-then we went back to Grace’s and we did the thong- thong exchange” Y/n gasped feeling Henry’s cock slide between her thighs, his red head bumping her clit every single time, just like he wanted. “That’s it baby, keep talking to me” Henry urged, his fingers going into his mouth and going back onto her clit, his other hand groping onto her right breast as she clawed onto his arms.

“Can’t do it, feels too good bear” Y/n breathed out leaning her head back onto his shoulder, his lips instantly landing onto her cheek, her head turning to give him a small kiss on the lips. “Got you all dumbed up on my cock, right honey? Can’t think when i’m all up on you, you drive me crazy” He growled fixing her up tighter against him, both his hands now going to her waist for his next move.

“Can’t imagine what woulda happened if I didn’t marry ya and bring you up here with me, you ever going to keep my pussy away from me?” Henry taunted pushing her body up and down, his cock sliding up and down her pussy lips which were now visible with the soaked lace.

“N-no. is’ your pussy baby, can have it whenever you want” Y/n moaned, her eyes going to the back of her head, knowing damn well that his words were enough to make her cum then and there. “Want you inside me Hen”

“Nuh-uh honey, maybe tomorrow, m’tired tonight. You understand right? Was busy working for us day n’ night” Henry said smirking knowing damn well his bank accounts were big enough to supply them another 10 lifetimes, but his baby didn’t need to know that, and she wouldn’t.

“Y-you’re right Hen, m’sorry, love you so much” Y/n whimpered feeling tears prick her eyes, her head turning coaxing out Henry’s tongue with her own, their rapid movements causing their kiss to turn wet and messy real quick. Filthy just like they both liked it. “I love you too baby. I’m going to cum on top of your pussy, that okay sugar?” He asked in her ear, her voice now rasped and broken as she screamed for him to do so. His cock painting the lilac lace white with his cum, Y/n’s eyes starting to lid close from exhaustion

“Can I at least keep this pair?” Y/n shuddered feeling her husband peel the sticky fabric down her thighs, watching as he threw it to somewhere in the living room, her eyes basically love hearts as she watched him attend to her. Kissing her nose, giving her a massive drink of water, bringing her back onto his lap this time with a soft blanket.

“You know the rules sugar, no underwear indoors” Henry whispered watching their log fire, his arms clasped around her waist as she resumed her story of her day, her nails softly playing with the wedding bands on their fingers. “Then I saw Stephanie’s new baby, n’ I was thinking can we have one?”

Henry woke up from his daydream to see Y/n looking up at him cutely, a sweet sugar like smile on her face, “Course baby, i’ll give you anything you want”

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @stormcloudss @keiva1000 @spencerreidat4am @diyabhanushali1 @angelmather1 @hp-hogwartsexpress @lastwandastan @fdl305 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @aerangi @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @sparklemarysunshine @oliviah-25 @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mansaaay @princess-paramour @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @mysticfalls01 @kebabgirl67 @athena-roy @tinyelfperson @madebylilly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @beck07990 @kimhtoo17 @thereisa8ella @pandaxnienke

#henry cavill #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill smut #romance #henry cavill fandom #lumberjack!henry cavill

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joelscurls · 11 months ago

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a heart for melting

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: post-outbreak, implied age gap, themes surrounding child loss and grief, some angst but mostly festive fluff, grumpy x sunshine dynamics (Joel is a grinch & reader loves the holidays), reader is described as having long-ish hair

summary: Jackson's first annual Holiday Market brings about more than just cheer.

a/n: Merry Christmas @thetriumphantpanda; I'm your pedrostories secret santa! I hope you enjoy this lil festive take on grumpy!joel x sunshine!reader — I had lots of fun writing it 🤍🎄 🥧 🪵 🦌

Joel doesn’t want to be here — surrounded by garland and ribbons and so much unadulterated joy, it’s nauseating. No, he was forced to be here.

Please, Ellie had begged, it’ll be good for you to do something other than patrol or drinking with Tommy. Plus, they’re too good to keep to yourself.

They, being wood carvings — the tiny sculptures of deer and bears and birds, tufts of hair and bunches of feathers drawn out of driftwood with the tip of his blade. It was only ever meant to be a hobby, a way to busy his hands after they’d been wrapped around the cold metal of his rifle all day. Something lighter, creative rather than destructive, an act of giving rather than taking.

But sharing them with other people? He hadn’t been interested. Maybe he’d make one for Ellie or Tommy. Wrap it up in a piece of cloth and offer it as a gift for their birthday.

Not that he thought they were any good, really.

With the announcement of Jackson’s first annual Holiday Market, though, came Ellie’s pleading. “I’ll help you,” she’d bargained. “You don’t even have to give me anything!”

“Who said I would anyway?” he’d grumbled, digging his spoon into the bottom of his bowl of stew and sifting out a chunk of meat.

Joel despises the Holiday Season. He’d welcomed its disappearance with the end of the world. Because he had no reason to celebrate, with Sarah gone. Her absence stung like salt in an open wound on any normal day. But on Christmas, memories of her hanging her favorite ornaments on the tree and sneaking one of the cookies baked for Santa burned behind his eyelids. Left him heaving through hot tears.

The holidays had no place in his world, but they certainly had a place in Jackson. The first time he and Ellie had strode through those gates, they’d been met with that damned Christmas Tree, towering over the settlement like a beacon. And he hated it, hated the way it brought about that pounding in his chest and that spinning in his head.

How could anyone find any good in such a poignant reminder of loss?

Tommy says it’s about new beginnings, finding ways to be happy again. And what’s happier ‘n Christmas? God damn Santa Clause, hot chocolate, children singin’ carols?

Still, Joel isn’t convinced — not yet.

Standing across the mess hall, at your table piled high with baked goods, you are far too cheerful. You’re humming some song with a jovial beat, absentmindedly swaying as you rearrange rows of gingerbread and muffins and scones — all of which are draped in white icing, like flocking on Christmas trees. You pause to wish a happy holiday to everyone who passes through.

Joel knows he’s seen you before, flitting in and out of the community’s kitchen, always with that signature smile scrawled across your face.

And god, you’re so bubbly, taking to everyone you meet like a bee to honey, letting them in without a care in the world. Popping from table to table, making sure they have enough to eat. That they’re doing well.

It shouldn’t surprise him that you’re so…spirited, too. You seem to find the good in everyone and everything, after all.

It infuriates him, nonetheless.

Joel groans to himself. Stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans as an elderly couple rounds on him.

He grumbles a hello to them when they approach. They offer him half-smiles in return, beginning to pick up some of the carvings laid out on the table — turning them, inspecting them.

“This one’s nice,” the man says to his wife. She hums in agreement.

“You got any tigers?” the man asks.

“Tigers?”

“Yeah — I used to love ‘em as a kid.”

“Got what��s on the table,” Joel grumbles.

“You make ‘em custom? I can offer some homemade jam in return — elderberry.”

Joel sighs in annoyance.

“Don’t make ‘em custom. Got what I got.”

The man seems defeated, nodding and walking off without another word. The woman follows closely behind.

Just as they leave, Ellie appears. She sidles up to Joel and shrugs her jacket off. Pulls a chair up next to him.

“There’s so much cool shit here!” she exclaims, too loud. A judgemental set of eyes flit her direction. She glares right back at them.

“Do you mind?” Joel huffs, jaw ticking.

“Jesus, who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“How do you even know what Cheerios are?”

“Don’t,” she admits. “I read it in a book.”

“Of course you did.”

Ellie leans back in her chair, pulling an apple out of her backpack and biting into it. She shuffles some of the carvings around on the table. “Gotta fill in these gaps, man,” she says, juice dribbling down her chin.

Joel ignores her. He sneaks a glance at you; finds that you’re already looking. Your expression is unreadable, gaze unmoving as he studies you.

Despite your upbeat disposition bothering him, he can’t deny that you’re gorgeous: bright, beckoning eyes, siren-like smile — it’s like you’re peering into his soul.

He didn’t think he still had one of those.

“Dude.” Ellie nudges him. He peels his eyes from you reluctantly. “I asked how many takers you’ve had.”

“Uh.” He pretends to think.

“You have no fucking idea, do you? Too busy staring at that girl.”

“Wasn’t starin’,” he clips defensively.

“No? Well she’s coming over here, man.”

Sure enough, you’re striding right toward him, abandoning your post. Joel barely has time to prepare for impact.

He unconsciously straightens up and pulls his hands out of his pockets. He brushes them on his jeans just as you stop in front of his table.

“Hi there,” you say.

“Hi!” Ellie chimes.

You pick up a carving of a two-headed deer. His favorite.

“This is beautiful,” you coo. “The craftsmanship is lovely.” You’re running a finger along the grooves in the wood, holding the piece delicately in the palm of your hand — as if it’s made of glass, not wood. “You have a real gift…”

“Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat. He ignores how sweet his name sounds coming out of your mouth. You tell him your name, and it fits you, he thinks. It’s pretty.

“How long have you been making them?”

“Just since I got to Jackson. ‘ts somethin’ to pass the time.”

You nod. Continue scanning over the intricacies of the deer. “I was never much of a baker before I got here, either,” you joke, gesturing back toward your table.

“Good one,” Ellie laughs. “You’re funny — isn’t she funny, Joel?”

In his head, he’s glowering at her. Outwardly, he feigns amusement.

“Real funny.”

“I’d love to see how you make these sometime,” you say, then, placing the deer back on the table gingerly. “Do you have a workshop?”

“In our shed,” Ellie pipes in before he can say anything. “You should come by tomorrow! Joel’s off patrol.”

He shoots her daggers. She pretends not to notice.

“I’d love that! I have to work in the kitchen, though. I could come by after?”

Joel starts to shake his head no. Ellie’s hand wraps around his arm like a vice grip. He stills.

“Sure,” he grits.

“I can bring some pastries, if you’d like.”

“Don’t like sweets.”

“Oh,” you say, a little thwarted, but you’re undeterred. You shift on your feet. Chew your bottom lip. “Well, how about something not sweet, then?”

Your brows lift, narrowed eyes on him as you await a response. Joel still isn’t thrilled about the prospect of a visitor. Really, he doesn’t like anyone on his property that isn’t Ellie, or Tommy and Maria if he’s invited them. But you don’t seem so bad, offering to bring him food.

He can probably deal with your sunny disposition in exchange for a full belly. Lord knows he went too long without that luxury, and he’d be a fool to deny himself of it ever again.

So, he agrees, the garbled sure less than enthusiastic leaving his mouth. Still, you don’t seem too offended. In fact, you smirk at him, wordlessly sauntering back to your table, sneaking glances at him every so often for the remainder of the afternoon.

Sure enough, the next evening, while Joel is whittling in the shed, you show up.

You’re wielding a basket of savory hand pies, as promised, and Joel has to stop himself from drooling. They smell incredible. And they’re still warm, somehow, steam wafting off of them even after your walk here.

“Come in,” he gruffs, his nose following the scent like a dog’s as he trails behind you inside.

His set up is minimal: a rocking chair next to a bench, a couple stools he made for when Tommy comes by to play poker. But his works are scattered throughout, every surface in the small room cluttered with little carvings.

He settles atop one of the stools as you begin to wander around the room, plucking sculptures off shelves and awing at them with such genuine admiration, it causes something to pull in his chest.

Every so often, you make a remark about the details in a piece, how the fur on the deer looks real, how you can practically smell the replica evergreen in your grasp.

And something shifts — carried by your kind words through the stuffy shed.

Taken by the slight lilt in your voice when you speak to him, the almost-shy smile that pulls at the corners of your lips — Joel is attracted to you.

He’s following the line of your neck down to your collarbone, ogling at the exposed skin there when you pick another carving up off the shelf. And he feels guilty — he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. You’re just being nice, being neighborly, and he’s gawking at you like you’d have any interest in him.

No; you’re young, beautiful, could do a lot better than an old grump like him.

He averts his gaze quickly when you suddenly set down the tiny, carved bird that had been in your palm, round the workbench and perch yourself atop the stool next to his. You retrieve a handpie out of the basket and pass it over to him.

“It has braised rabbit and carmelized onions in it,” you explain, taking a bite and letting the steam roll out.

He follows suit and — it tastes just as good as it smells, if not better. He’s salivating again, letting the dough melt in his mouth before swallowing.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, getting through the entire basket in mere minutes.

When you’re finished, you ask him where he’s from.

The question shouldn’t feel like such a shock to the system. But after a year of being in Jackson, successfully avoiding conversation about his life before the outbreak, it sets off a panging between his eyes, a dull ache in his viscera.

“Texas,” he tells you plainly. “From Austin, originally.”

You nod. And you must be able to tell that he’s not used to talking about himself — by the tick of his jaw or the lack of eye contact — he’s not sure. Because you don’t pry. Instead, you say, “you can ask me something.”

He nods. Thinks on it for a moment.

“When did you arrive here? To Jackson?”

Unlike him, you do not grimace at the intrusion. Instead, you tell him: about your parents, their untimely deaths, the harrowing road that led you here. You do not cry, but Joel can see the pain in your shiny eyes.

It’s inevitable; there isn’t a single person here who hasn’t been dealt a bad hand. But you wear your past like a badge of honor, like you’re still grateful, after it all, to be alive.

Joel envies your tenacity.

So when you ask him about Ellie, if she is his daughter, he lets the walls around him down — just an inch. He doesn’t get upset when he stumbles over his words while telling you about Sarah. He finds comfort in confiding in you, in the way you so attentively listen, quietly nodding along as he recalls his version of the end of the world.

“Thank you,” you say when he’s done, burying his hands back in his pockets.

“For what?”

“For sharing that with me. I know it can be difficult to relive it.”

“I relive it everyday,” he admits. “Everything reminds me of her in one way or another.”

“I understand,” you nod. He believes you do.

So sweet, gaze like honey, you are an enigma to him. He hasn’t met many people who are kind just for the sake of it — not in a long while. Maybe that’s why he’d been so bothered by it at the market. It had felt almost unnatural to him, bound to be laced with an ulterior motive.

He’s still learning how to trust people again. It doesn’t come easily after twenty-odd years of rationing it like the pills he’d stowed. Still, there is something innate about baring his soul to you. Letting you in through the cracks in his battered being. You are safe, he’s sure of it; benevolence radiating from you like warmth.

It drips off your tongue when you ask him to show you how he does his craft — slips down your fluttering lashes. No longer can he deny you of anything — he’s accepted this swiftly — and so he obliges.

A half-whittled fox materializes from his coat pocket, along with his blade. He passes both to you and pulls his stool closer to yours.

He guides you, taking your hand in his, encouraging the press of the blade into the wood. Shows you how to round out a corner with a subtle twist of the knife. You’re a fast learner, Joel notes, attentive, taking every instruction like gospel.

The slow drag of steel, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle; you’re so focused that you jump slightly when he places a reassuring hand on your knee.

“Doin’ great, darlin’,” he says, and your lips pull around pearlescent teeth. Joel feels as enraptured by you as you do the carving — the loose tendrils of hair that drape over your shoulder, the clinging of cotton to your soft curves. Though he hardened into stone a long time ago, he feels smelted in your presence. So he cannot help it when his fingers begin to drift up your leg, settling at your side as he turns his body toward yours.

The blade stalls, tip still stuck into the wood, puncturing the fox’s non-existent spine, and your face lifts.

“Is this okay?” he whispers. You nod, gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

You’re so close like this; Joel can smell the floral perfume dappled along your neck, can feel your warm breath fanning his face. He has half a mind to stop himself from sealing the sliver of distance left between you. But then you’re sighing, placing the blade and the wooden fox on the tabletop. And it’s your turn to guide him — winding your delicate fingers around his wrist and settling his hand at the small of your back.

The air in the tiny workshop grows heavy with unspoken desire, a longing to disrupt; to create. Your body forms to his languidly, arms interlocking behind his neck, fingers weaving in his hair to pull him closer to you. And then your lips press to his — hesitant at first, then not. You drink from each other until you are drunk, breathless and giddy when you separate.

“That was nice,” you whisper, and Joel chuckles.

“Just nice?”

“Great,” you amend. “It was great. Better than I imagined, even.”

“You imagined this?”

“Yes,” you smirk. “On a loop since I first saw you at the market.”

He pulls you back in. Gives you another chaste kiss. “For good measure.”

“Joel,” you say then, “will you and Ellie come by mine on Christmas? I could even cook — it’s just-”

“Yes,” he’s accepting before you can finish. “I’d love that. As long as you make more of those,” he gestures toward the empty basket on the workbench.

“That can be arranged,” you grin.

As soon as you leave that evening — sent off with a goodbye muttered between slotted mouths — Joel starts on your Christmas present.

end notes: thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you enjoyed <3

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal as joel miller #pedro pascal #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories

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zeezelweazel · 11 months ago

Note

a fic where alexia stares too much, doesnt have to be smut

Alexia Putellas| Being subtle|

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I've been having this idea for a long time but I'm horny so I wanted to get all the smut fics done

Summary: You and Alexia have been dating for a while but keeping it a secret from the public. During an interview Alexia can't seem to get her eyes off you and you're afraid she'll expose you to the whole world.

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With Christmas so close you have quite a few media obligations. You and Alexia are very popular players and amongst the fans you seem to be favourites when it comes to shipping. If only the fans knew that you two have been together for well over a year.

Neither of you feel the need to confirm the rumors and speculations as you're very comfortable in your privacy.

Now you find yourself sitting on a stool next to Alexia, opening various gifts for the video. Alexia is wearing an ugly Christmas sweater and a reindeer hat. You have a festoon wrapped around your neck like a scarf and you're wearing a shiny Santa hat. A big Christmas tree sits behind the two of you with ornaments and pretty lights.

"Alright, let's move on to the next one."

You say and throw the empty box to the pile of trash on the floor. Your eyes scan the pile of still unopened gifts and you grab a long and heavy one wrapped in blue paper.

You tear the wrapping with glee, like a child on Christmas Eve, as you pull out a huge bubble gun. You laugh and turn the toy on your hands carefully inspecting it. Alexia looks at you, completely ignoring the gift. You've never looked so beautiful. With the lights outlining your gorgeous face and the happiness in your eyes you look a hundred times prettier. When she looks at you her heart skips a beat and she softly smiles at you just being you. Alexia's obvious love eyes don't go unnoticed and you point the gun at her face, releasing dozens of soap bubbles on her face. Alexia yelps and pulls back surprised as you almost fall of the stool laughing.

The captain snapps out of it, completely embarrassed at being caught looking at you so softly and with so much love. She looks at the floor blushing and hopes that her blond hair will shield her from the camera.

You notice Alexia's tense posture and place your hand on her bicep. You smile at her when she finally looks up at you.

"It's your turn captain."

Alexia clears her throat awkwardly and bends down to grab a gift when Mapi giggles in the background. Mapi was invited for this gift opening video since her injury put a stop to all activities. She was enjoying seeing her best friend struggle to keep up her infamous 'la reina' persona.

To the public Alexia seemed stoic and cold, most of the time she kept a straight face but when she was with you that facade crumbled. She was always relaxed around you, giggling and cuddling up to you even when she kept up her usual cool charm. That's the reason why people shiped you so much. You were the "shunshine x grumpy" couple that everyone fawned over.

Seeing Alexia be so easily caught off guard made the tattooed spaniard want to roll on the floor with laughter. Alexia sent a cold glare towards her best friend hoping to keep her quiet for the rest of the video. Alexia quietly sighed and composed herself as you two continued opening gifts for the camera.

It was your turn again, you opened a gift and found a photo album with the rest of the team inside. You were pointing at all the photos and explaining the stories behind them.

You were speaking with excitement, your free hand moving around wildly and a wide smile was spread over your face as you talked about that time when Lucy accidentally threw a bucket of cold water on Keira's face instead of yours. Alexia was resting her head on her palm, looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky. A smile crept on her face as she watched you laughing at all the happy memories.

You're always gorgeous in Alexia's eyes but when you're happy, when you're laughing so much your cheeks hurt afterwards, that's when she finds you absolutely perfect. At this point Mapi has given up on laughter, instead she's filming Alexia's lovestruck face to sent it to the group chat.

Before you can realise it there are no more gifts to open and the video ends. The filming crew starts picking up their equipment and you slowly turn to a still smiling Alexia. You smile a little at the fact that the captain still has no idea that the filming is over. You press a quick kiss on her face and Alexia finally snaps out of it, looking at you with shock.

"Are you done looking now Ale?"

Alexia blushes and looks at Mapi with a confused expression that is absolutely adorable. You're grinning at her lost face and burst out laughing when she groans in realisation.

"Dios mio, I'll never live this down." Alexia says with her face in her hands. You pat her back and try to hold back your laughter. That's until you hear Mapi laughing.

"Oh yeah, just wait till you see the group chat."

Mapi is laughing so hard you think she might fall from the couch. Alexia jumped from the stool panicked as she looked between you and Mapi.

"You sent that to the group chat?!"

You laugh even harder and look at Alexia apologeticaly.

"Babe, the entire internet will see this video."

Alexia sighs and flops back down on the stool. You pull her into a side hug and kiss her head softly while Alexia continues her wheeping.

"My reputation is ruined."

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#wlw #female reader #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #fc barcelona #barcelona femeni #barca femeni

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risuola · 11 months ago

Text

I DON'T NEED MISTLETOE TO KISS YOU — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN, who doesn’t exactly agree with your human traditions

It is the first Christmas party Sukuna ever went to and it’s really safe to say that most of the traditions are surreal, borderline absurd to him. Especially the one with the hanging weed…? A mistletoe? You couldn’t be serious when telling him that if he wants to kiss you, he needs to find himself underneath it with you.

cw: fluffy, suggestive?, lot's of kissing (duh), Sukuna has his own body and he's a grumpy old man — 2,5k words

kissmas masterlist

There is a certain amount of respect Sukuna has grown to expect from people around him ever since he’s got a body of a human. Even though now somewhat mortal, he’s still a king of curses and that alone is enough of a reason to assume that he deserves some honors. You, of course, as his partner, are allowed to respect him a little less, but as Ryomen was sitting on the couch in the apartment you share, wearing the absolute atrocity that you called a Christmas sweater and listening to your rambling about a weird weed he wondered if it could still classify as “a little less”.

And it was a fact that you looked quite pretty in the little sweater-skirt combo you wore, the high socks made your thighs look absolutely delicious and the white, fluffy edges from the Santa hat you had on your head made you look almost too cute for your own good, but he wouldn’t be mad if you just shut up.

“Ryomen, are you even listening?” You whined, pointing a finger of accusation in his direction and, again, looking too adorable for your own safety with the pout your lower lip formed. It took the greatest art of control to not kiss it off your face immediately.

“No, honestly, not really,” he replied and it should touch him, the way you groaned upset, but at the same time he couldn’t help but find you oh-so-sweet at the moment. So sweet, in fact, that he’d gladly eat you.

“I was trying to get you into the Christmas spirit and you are ignoring me,” and you were pouting even more. Great. “It’s our first holidays together and it’s your first Christmas party in this era, you could pay me a little more attention.”

“No, I’m paying you all of my attention,” he retorted quickly, his eyes slowly scanning your figure from the tip of your head, down to your feet and back up. “I just tend to lose my interest when I hear something foolish.”

If you wouldn’t know the ex-curse well enough, you’d probably feel insulted, but thanks to the many months you’ve already spent with him, you know it’s just his way of expressing his thoughts. It made you sigh deeply.

“You are a human now, you know? You could indulge a little into our foolish traditions.”

“I am wearing this atrocity, am I not?” Sukuna scoffed, getting up and catching you quicker than you managed to run away from him. His strong, long arms wrapped around you, enclosing you in the warm embrace of his chest. “I admit, the human traditions were always below me. Even in my era, I never truly participated in whatever people were doing, but what you’re now telling me sounds straight up absurd to me. I mean, this… whatever the fuck that is. Weed thing with kissing?”

“It’s a mistletoe!”

“It’s preposterous,” he snapped quite softly, one of his hands sliding down your back and onto your ass. “I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you and you have my word that I will snap the neck of anyone who dares to use this tradition to touch you.”

“You will not snap anyone’s neck, Sukuna Ryomen,” you warned, poking his chest with one of your prettily manicured fingers, the one on which you wear a ring he gifted you not too long ago – golden band with dark red diamonds embedded into the metal, the stones being a perfect representation of a color of his eyes. It was a warning, but he couldn’t help but smirk. “And during the party you will look for the mistletoe, otherwise you’re not allowed to kiss me.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

And you were, to Sukuna’s greatest dismay, in fact avoiding his kisses as the evening went by. The party at Gojo’s apartment was annoying, but not nearly as much as the fact that you were just so damn stubborn. But you looked so pretty, all smiley and so open, he was willing to push through it all just to see your face twisted in so much happiness. It is, after all, only for you that he even agreed to come and surround himself with the celebrative aura that he had no will to understand. It was enough for him that you enjoyed it.

The apartment had been festively decorated for the holidays. Filled with the warm glow of Christmas lights that were scattered throughout the space, hanging from the walls and even wrapping around the legs of some of the furniture, along with the rows of ribbons and tinsel. A Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, decorated with sparkling ornaments and colorful lights, a large star on top of it. The party was already in full swing and the laughter and cheers of the guests warmed up the air, together with yummy smells of homemade treats, hot chocolate and mulled wine, the merriment adding to the festive magic. Everybody was chatting with one another, enjoying themselves and sharing stories, catching up on the holiday season, cherishing the time.

The music was playing softly in the background, the holiday hits spreading its warm melodies throughout the entire apartment, but in the midst of all the holiday cheer Sukuna’s attention was drawn to you. He watched you laughing and chatting with other guests, with people that usually he would hate but for you he forced himself to tolerate. He observed you mesmerized by your beauty, the way you moved, and though he had seen you countless times before, yet somehow it still never ceased to take his breath away. His eyes drank every detail of you, from the way your eyes sparkled just as brightly as the twinkle lights on the Christmas tree to your bright smile, the soft and subtle curve your lips had on all the time during the evening. He admired the way the few stray strands of hair had fallen from your hairdo and he could have sworn they were just for him to push back behind your ear. The cozy sweater you wore that though he deemed as atrocious, he couldn’t deny its vibrant colors made your skin tone pop. You were a sight to behold, an angel he knew he never deserved and yet, you were his. And yet, some of these beautiful smiles you aimed at him, and your hands searched for his, not caring at all about how much red and sorrow his skin had soaked during his lifetime.

“You’re not enjoying this, aren’t you?” Your soft, sweet voice poured into Sukuna’s mind, pulling him out the trail of thoughts and admiration.

“I couldn’t possibly care less about the Christmas spirit,” he replied, wrapping his arm around your waist as you sat down next to him on one of the sofas. Out of habit he leaned in to have a taste of your lips when you put a finger on top of his own. “What the fu—”

“Mistletoe, remember?” You grinned, a playful tease apparent in your voice.

“I already told you that I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you, did I not?”

“You did but I also told you that you will need one during the Christmas party, didn’t I?” Your retort was both funny to him and annoying and if it wasn’t for you, he would have already snapped. There was a thin layer of patience Sukuna had and you were poking through this layer constantly, pushing his buttons and pulling on his nerves. He was ready to say something less than polite, when you spoke again, “please, ‘kuna, just for this night,” and the pout that your lips formed made it just that much harder for him to not kiss it away.

Ryomen found it comedic, really. He was considered the strongest of them all, the King of Curses feared for hundreds of years and yet when he was with you, he felt like he could melt into your arms and soften. As he stood in the face of danger, he never felt fear. Whether he was battling nations, facing enemies who had never seen defeat or fighting back a raging fire, his strength and determination never faltered. He was used to people looking up to him, he was used to giving orders and degrade the pawns and yet with you he let his guard down. In your presence, he felt comfortable and at peace with things he would never consider himself doing. The sweater you made him wear, he wouldn’t ever even think of putting on because someone asked. The party he was now sitting through, he would never attend if it wasn’t for you. And most importantly, there was no way throughout heaven and hell that someone would tell him what he can and cannot do, except from you. You were his weakness and his strength and he knew he would do anything for you, gladly following you to the ends of earth. The very thought of hurting you sent a chill down his spine, you had the power to make him forget everything else in the world and when everyone else would cause his blood to boil, you had the ability to unleash a huddle of butterflies into his stomach. It took him a thousand years to feel something like this. Your love was the only thing that truly scared him, the force that rendered the king completely powerless. But he wouldn’t have it any other way and though it made him conflicted, he was willing to follow the silly tradition just to see you smile. But on his own conditions.

“Fine.” He grumbled, a smirk already forming on his lips and just by the look of him you knew there’s an idea blooming in his head and for a moment you wondered if you should be worried or not. He wasn’t going to do anything inappropriate in here, right?

“Love you,” you whispered to him to award his willingness to bend his own rules and even gave him the softest of pecks onto his temple before you got back to chatting with your friends. Sukuna was, let’s say, okay with coming to the party but it didn’t mean he was going to carelessly chat with sorcerers. He already spent some unwanted time with the brat Yuji, wondering why on earth was that kid so happy. Needless to say, Sukuna was vibing much more with Megumi.

As the time was passing and your boyfriend was looking uncharacteristically relaxed in the festively twinkling surrounding, you managed to feel more at ease as well. You felt the slight burden at first, that you forced him to take part in something he had no wish to participate, something as odd and unknown to his nature as friendly people gathering but turned out he was able to push through the party and not kill or threaten anyone too much. He was sitting so calmly that you managed to forget about the mistletoe.

That’s why it took you by the biggest surprise when the strong, familiar arms wrapped around your middle as you got to the balcony to breathe some air and cool yourself, the hot chocolate in your system making a great job at raising your body temperature.

“Got you,” Sukuna’s low tone sounding right next to your ear made you smile and you turned in his embrace to face him. He pulled you close, pressing his large body against yours. “And I also got this,” he chuckled, showing you the little branch of mistletoe that he most likely salvaged from the much bigger bouquets inside Gojo’s apartment. He gave you no time to respond when he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. The impact of his passion pushed you back and as your butt touched the railings, instinctively you grabbed onto him more, melting into safety of his form. If your mind wouldn’t be so consumed by the feeling of Ryomen’s lips on yours, you’d probably curse the seventeenth floor Satoru got his apartment on.

There was a hunger to the kiss, it was intense and the passion was electric. It felt like time stood still and all you could do was to lose yourselves in one another.You felt as if you were about to melt into your lover’s body, his warmth pulling you in like a magnet, closer and closer. You leaned into the warmth of his love that sheltered you from the chill air. His embrace made you feel the cold night slip away, when he kissed you, you felt like you and him were the only two people in the world. One kiss led to another and another kiss led to the tongues dancing to the melody of longing and desire. It was magical, it tasted sweet, it was addicting.

You were breathless when Sukuna pulled away, just enough to look at you. The cold winter wind blew through your hair and the knit of your sweater making you shiver as you stood on the balcony overlooking the world below and yet your cheeks were hot and flushed. He was looking at you for a moment, saying nothing but the silence was comfortable. He was examining your features, just softly washed over with the lights coming from inside the apartment. He watched the snowflakes stick to your hair and reddened cheeks and allowed his fingers to brush it away. Then he was kissing you again, pressing himself to you even harder, the kiss sizzling in the cold of the night.

As your lips met, your heartbeat began racing again. Every touch felt like a jolt of electricity, the rush of adrenaline filled both of you with ecstasy and lust that made you forget about the frigid winter air nipping at your nose. Your tongues danced and your breaths grew heavy. Sukuna’s hands were roaming around your body, exploring your curves and sneaking underneath your sweater, but the chill air that he invited there was no match for the heat his hands were leaving on your skin. It was as if he wanted to devour you right here and you couldn’t help but to touch him as well.

“’kuna—“ you whimpered against his lips, feeling his calloused fingers gripping your thigh. “Wait ‘till we get home.”

“Why would I? I got the weed,” he mumbled, a smirk apparent on his mouth as he let his other hand squeeze your butt.

“Yes, to kiss me, not to fuck me,” you chuckled, cuddling to his chest, seeking the heated safety his form provided.

“If you’re gonna tell me I need another herb to—”

“You don’t,” you cut him, giggling softly. “But the balcony at Gojo’s apartment, during the Christmas party is not the right time for that. Besides, I’m freezing, so let’s get back inside.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel all giddy. Of course he was going to find a way to get what he wanted, and of course he was going to do it in the most scandalous way possible.

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paranormaltheatrekid · 14 days ago

Text

welcome to vhs christmas carols, we have

-grumpy old man learns to appreciate the people around him before it’s too late

-cute couple realizes the best gift they have is each other

-little girl dies

#vhscc #vhs christmas carols

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Note

Hello. I was wondering if you could write an imagine in the BMD-verse (been following it for a while now; love, love, love it, by the way!) where Ben cries?

Like something really bad happens in general or to the Reader, and he losses it? I mean, personally, I have never known this man to cry, and I would love to see you conjure up something that could possibly elicite that reaction from him.

But no pressure - will definitely understand if you don't want to write it!

Oooh, so you really wanna kill me, huh? 🫠😭😭

Lol it's okay, thank you for loving Break Me Down!! It's one of my favorite story verses that I've been able to create on here. ❤️❤️

This request was difficult for me on multiple levels, but I think I was able to pull it off? (I'll let you be the judge.) This is set in the BMD-verse, shortly after "Love Actually."

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 2,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst, show-level violence, hurt/comfort, "twist" ending (you'll want to read until the end, trust me).

Imagine: Ben loses you.

Ben restrained another sigh when he realized you were no longer walking next to him.

He turned and saw you stopping in another damn kiosk, this time looking at a selection of Pashmina scarves. As if you didn’t have enough clothes.

“We’re not here for a damn shopping spree,” he called after you.

He ignored the people who glanced at him as they walked past, a couple of them even shooting him an annoyed look.

One didn’t just stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk in New York City, but as with most societal protocols, Ben couldn't really give a fuck.

He almost started tapping his foot. Instead, he crossed his arms as he glared in your general direction. You were smiling and chatting with the woman selling her wares as you finished the transaction.

Ben at least could admire the view of you bent over in those tight jeans and ankle boots. You also wore the dark green winter coat he bought you last month, lined with faux fur to keep you warm.

When you eventually came back to him, you shot him an amused smile. You held a new scarf in shades of green and blue, to match your coat. But you also held out a new pair of leather gloves for him.

“Here you go, Grumpy. I didn't forget about you,” you teased. He raised a wry brow at you and took the gloves. He inspected them with a half-critical eye.

“And how much did these cost, five cents?”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. He caught up with you and slipped the gloves into his pocket.

“My hands don’t get cold anyway,” he reminded you. And you often complained that his body heat was like a radiator, especially at night. Although, you hadn’t been complaining since the winter turned frigid this February.

“All right, whatever. Just don’t say I never get you anything,” you quipped. “Besides, you know you love to accessorize.”

A smirk pulled at Ben’s lips. The gloves were a half-assed gift, but he still wore the watch you got him for Christmas proudly on his wrist. That was a nice silver Rolex.

“All I know is, we’d better not be late for this damn meeting,” he said. “I don’t wanna hear Mallory’s fucking mouth.”

The two of you had made a day of coming into the city, hitting a nice brunch spot and ice skating at Rockefeller center before your date had been rudely interrupted—by a call for a new mission.

Grace Mallory had been a bit cryptic on the phone, but it had something to do with the mess Ben left of the drug cartels in South America. After they got back to the States, Ben left that “business” behind…he just hadn’t thought of how that would shake out in Colombia.

So now, you two were headed to the Supe Affairs building. You slipped your arm around his, while his hands were in his pockets. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Try to enjoy the little things, Ben,” you told him. “We had mimosas and some bougie ass lobster tails with our eggs this morning. I skated circles around you on the ice. And now we’re going to get some work done.”

“On our day off,” he retorted.

“To be fair, you made the mess, Mr. Kingpin,” you pointed out. “We’ve just gotta clean it up…as usual.”

“Hey," he eyed you. But you both knew the warning had little heat behind it.

He still reached for your cheek and brushed his thumb across it. He felt how cold your face was, and he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk. Neither of you cared when pedestrians gave you dirty looks as they passed by.

Maybe you were right though. Maybe he should take stock of the small moments. Ben held your face with both hands and caressed some warmth back into your skin.

Your smile softened, and your eyes closed when his lips found their way to your forehead. He then took the newly bought scarf out of your hand and wrapped it comfortably around your neck.

“What a gentleman,” you said, with a small grin.

Ben smirked down at you…until his face fell.

He heard the whistle of the bullet before he saw it.

It took him another second to move, grabbing you and shielding you with his entire body when it hit his back. The bullet itself bounced harmlessly off his skin, but the inner compartment of Novichok exploded like a small smoke bomb. The smell was too familiar to him to be anything else.

Ben coughed and was forced to push you away from him before the gas reached you. You yelped and almost tripped on your feet, but you scrambled back against the wall of a drycleaners. Your wide eyes met his as his knees buckled; the gas had clouded around his head.

“Run!” he shouted through fits of coughing.

You hesitated, for just a second. But when another bullet ricocheted into the wall behind you, near your head, you ducked and had to take off running.

You wove through the busy sidewalk, pushing people out of your way as you went. Whoever was after him this time, you had a feeling these were the people Ben had pissed off in Colombia.

Fuck! You sprinted past an alleyway and saw the hand coming for your arm, but even when you turned, there was another man, dressed a black military-style uniform with his face covered by a black mask, waiting to grab you from behind.

It was muscle memory. You released an elbow into the man’s neck, a punch straight into his teeth and nose, then kicked his knee out with the heel of your boot.

You grabbed your gun from under your jacket and would've shot him, except the next man wheelhouse kicked it out of your hand. You stepped back on instinct, ducking the following punch, and the rest of his arm to run in the opposite direction.

The first man pointed a large automatic gun straight in your face. You gasped and put your hands up. With a quick glance in either direction, you realized that they’d cornered you.

Your hands were pulled behind your back by someone else. That’s when they started dragging you toward a black SUV parked in the corner.

Except that car was soon destroyed, by an old Honda Civic being shoved into it. The SUV's hood constantined like an accordion.

You looked up with wide eyes, and there stood Ben, at the crossroads of the alley. He was furious.

“Soldier Boy,” greeted the man who once again held the automatic gun poised at you. He pulled down his mask, revealing the tan face of a middle-aged man.

He moved over to you and grabbed your arm from his subordinate. He raised the gun to your back. With one press of his finger, your insides could become Swiss cheese.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to take in even breaths. You focused on Ben. His green eyes met yours, and briefly you caught the worry behind them before his steely gaze moved back to the man who held you.

“Pretty ballsy, Reyes,” Ben said. His voice was a drawl, more controlled than he felt. “You really thought this was gonna go down that easy?”

Reyes scoffed. “You’re the ballsy one. Taking off with all that product you stole.”

“You’ll have to take up with the CIA on that one,” Ben replied. “They confiscated all the smack from my place. Probably reselling it to a few hobos down the street. You’re welcome to check under the bridge over there.”

He gestured in the direction of the Hudson River.

Reyes shrugged. The sound of a gun’s safety being clipped back resounded through the alley. You felt the vibration of it on your back. Your eyes closed for a moment.

“Bad news for her,” he said.

"Hey," Ben snapped. "There's no fucking need for that."

"I think I'll decide what we need," said Reyes. Your lips pursed as the gun dug into your back. "Maybe it's your bitch's insides at your feet."

Ben slowly raised a placating hand. Though his gait was still relaxed and arrogant, as always, you knew it was a well-crafted act. To hide his anger. His fear. To seem in control of himself, and to reinforce the intimidating presence he still was, even unarmed.

“Listen. If it’s money you want, we can work it out,” Ben replied.

His eyes once again found yours. He could see you were holding your breath. You were good at hiding it, but he knew you were scared. He wanted to tell you that he had this handled. That everything would be all right.

He focused on Reyes again. The other man considered the supe with a tilt of his head. He sucked his teeth and spit on the ground, out of the corner of his mouth. It was mixed with a bit of blood from when you'd punched him in the teeth.

“Okay, my friend,” said Reyes. “Let’s work this out. Pull out your phone.”

Ben made slow movements in grabbing his phone from his pocket. They all stepped further into the alley to avoid prying eyes and discussed the transfer of funds, and how much was fair. Ben claimed he was giving him a deal with his first offer.

Reyes demanded three times that amount. Ben raised his brows...but he complied. The money transferred from his bank account.

“Okay, we’re fucking done,” Ben snarked. He gestured at you with his eyes. “Let her go.”

In his mind, he was already contemplating how thoroughly he'd rip Reyes apart for this. After you were safe. He'd have a first class ticket to Medellin by tonight, ready to Colombian-necktie this cocksucker.

Reyes sighed through his nose. There was still about ten feet between him and Ben. He didn't seem to think it was enough. He took the gun off your back and backed up with you a few steps. Eventually, he released your arm.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart,” Ben reached a hand out, beckoning for you. You met his gaze once again, and let out a subtle breath.

You took three hesitant steps forward.

And the gunshots echoed horribly through the alley.

As it turned out, Reyes always had an escape plan. You were merely the distraction.

It proved effective, as Ben’s protest rang out as soon as the bullets fired. He raced forward and caught you as you stumbled, but his hands soon became coated in your blood; it fled from your back in thin rivulets.

You gasped and clung to his arms. His ears rang with the sound, along with tires squealing and shouts and police sirens. All he could focus on was the color draining from your face.

Both of your breaths came out ragged as he slid with you down to his knees. He brushed your hair away from your face, even as his blood-covered hand stained your cheek. Your pained eyes drew up to his face. You tried to speak, but you didn't have the strength.

“I hear the sirens. They’re coming for you, take you to the hospital,” he promised. His voice was rough, but his throat was tight. His eyes scanned over you. “All you need is my blood and…Christ. Fuck it all.”

He laid you down on the dirty asphalt and hurriedly yanked up his coat sleeve until it ripped. It exposed his arm. He was about to drag a blunt nail across his own skin to bleed into you.

“Ben.” Your fingers twitched against his knee.

When he looked at your face, there was no longer life in your eyes.

His own were wide, almost uncomprehending. His breathing was harsh as empty hands fell to his thighs. His head felt heavy, though his ears were still ringing.

He drew enough strength in his hand to wipe the blood from your cold cheek…but your face was beginning to blur.

Or not, he realized, as the sting in his eyes took him by surprise.

In a fit of mania, he gathered you back up in his arms and ignored the wetness covering your back. He held you, impossibly tight. Tighter than he’d ever held you, because he was alone in the alley…because he was alone again.

And it was his own fault.

His eyes squeezed shut against the burn, but it was futile. Everything was. His breaths were sharp and stifled as pain tore inside. A pain worse than anything the Russian's could've inflicted on him.

His lips pressed against your forehead, trembling there. The first drops of wetness rolled down his cheek. He couldn't stop it from happening, but then again. He guessed he truly was a failure, after all.

You made the mess…

His first tears had been spent at his mother’s funeral, when he stood alone at her gravestone.

His last ones would fall and die with you.

“Ben,” your voice was soft but insistent.

He finally woke with a start. A sharp inhale through his nose.

He had been sleeping on his side. Before he even truly registered where he was, in the safety of his bedroom, he turned his head toward you.

His eyes found your face in the dark, over his shoulder. Your hair was frizzy from sleep. The strap of your nightgown had fallen off one shoulder. Your face looked bleary and tired, but you frowned in concern.

“You okay, baby?” you asked. Your hand soothed across the dewy skin on his arm.

Ben’s throat constricted. He was starting to remember bits and pieces of the dream…the nightmare. He rubbed at his eyes, then dragged a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said at last.

“Hmm.” Your gaze narrowed at him. “You sure?”

Ben had only enough energy in him to nod in response. His heart was still racing. Maybe you sensed that, because you leaned onto his arm and dropped a hand down his chest. You kissed his bare shoulder with soft lips, and he couldn’t help himself.

He raised a hand to cup the back of your head. He let out a long, relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. Then he turned onto his back and brought you closer, with an arm slipping around your frame and pulling you against his chest. You made a sound of surprise, but you went willingly.

You brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his face and pressed a kiss against his neck, to his jaw, his cheek and above his brow. He accepted it all and tried to calm his breathing with the feeling of your touch, and the smell of your flowery soap that lingered on your skin.

With a hand still cupping your head, he guided your lips to his. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. You answered him by tilting your head, deepening the kiss for a moment.

You parted from him just as slowly. You knew everything wasn’t okay, but you also knew it wasn’t the time to push him for an answer.

Maybe in the morning, you thought. …I’ll make pancakes. Haven't done that in a while. And he’s always happier with something sweet.

You rested contentedly against his warm chest and let his heartbeat, gradually slowing back into a steady rhythm, lull you back to sleep.

Ben tangled his fingers into your hair. He laid one more kiss on the top of your head.

And for damn sure, he was going to cancel that trip into the city tomorrow.

AN: I know, I know. The "it was all a dream" thing is super cheesy, but I couldn't leave it on heartbreak. I just don't have it in me with these two. 🥲❤️‍🩹

Read the Sequel:

A friend of mine requested a sequel to this imagine: "You confront Ben about his fears."

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#ask me stuff #soldier boy #Imagine Ben losing you #angst to the max #hurt/comfort #Soldier Boy imagine #soft!Ben #BMD verse #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #Break Me Down verse #zepskies answers

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wildestdreamsblog · 2 years ago

Text

Santa Tell Me

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You needed protection. Steve was only too un(willing) to take you in his mountain.

Warnings: Swearing, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: One shot that has more that 5k words. One day, I’ll get over Chris Evans. But today isn’t the day. My Christmas gift to you hihi merry christmas lovely humans~

“No.”

A door slammed on Bucky’s face. He had not even said a word and yet, his best friend, Steve Rogers took one look at him and decided that it was best to slam the door in his face.

This punk, he thought.

Bucky took a deep breath before turning to look at the lady hiding behind his back. He offered you an assuring smile, pointing his thumb on the closed door before making a face as though saying that his friend was unnecessarily grumpy.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I think it’s menopause.”

Bucky cleared his throat before knocking once again.

The door opened with excessive force and once again, the brawny man appeared. Now that he didn’t slam the door, you were able to see what he really looked like.

What your supposedly temporary sanctuary looked like.

What he looked like.

When Bucky Barnes showed you what his best friend looked like, you thought that he seemed like an old-fashioned yet friendly man. From what Bucky told you, Steve used to be a captain in the military, until he quitted. The man just one day decided to retire because, and you quoted Bucky, ‘the man was simply fed up with people’s bullshit’.

You thought he looked handsome in his military uniform.

The hulking man in front of Bucky looked like the man in the photograph, yet at the same time so different. The Steve standing tall in front of you had beard on his face. In comparison to the photo, he now sported a longer hair that framed his manly face. You noted that his locks looked darker now. He was even bulkier now, too. The man on the photo looked like a hero. The one in front of you looked like an anti-hero.

“Heeeey,” Bucky grinned at Steve before slapping his arm in a friendly gesture. “I was just talking about you! So this is-“

“We’re the same age,” Steve cut Bucky off, glaring at him with his intense eyes before stepping closer to the equally huge man. You almost wondered how Bucky did not look intimidated at all when you remembered that underneath Bucky’s friendly persona was a man as deadly as him.

Steve never once looked at your direction as if you were inconsequential to him. Well, you thought, of course you were. To him, you were a nuisance. Bucky was not the one assigned to your case, yet you were immensely grateful that he stepped in once he noticed how the other man was bungling your case and almost caused your demise. That was to say it kindly when in truth, you walked out of their office one day after meeting with the other sergeant to go over your case. He assured you that the case was simple and that your life was not in grave danger. One moment you were crossing the road and was about to enter your car, and the next thing you knew a car was driving alarmingly fast to where you were standing. Your fight and flight instinct seemed to fail you as you did nothing but looked at the car with wide eyes and stuck limbs.

You should have been dead.

You would have been dead if it weren’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes and impeccable speed. And well, his metal arm. You felt a powerful arm tugged you behind a car, shielding you with his body and metal arm as the assailant pointed a gun at you and began shooting. The loud bangs from the weapons felt like it went on forever. Bucky had his other arm wrapped around you and he felt your uncontrollable trembles. He looked down and noticed how pale you were.

And he hated it.

He loathed seeing someone took advantage of helpless people.

Perhaps, that was what made him snapped. With practiced precision, Bucky pointed his gun and with a singular shot, he managed to hit one of the wheels. The car crashed to the post with deafening sound of collision. A moment passed before the forces were able to cautiously walked to the car, their guns pointed at the injured assaulters.

Bucky thought they were all useless.

After he made sure that you were indeed unharmed, Bucky gently dragged you back to the headquarters and berated the sergeant in charged of your case. He called the man, and you quoted: ‘a simpering buffoon’, ‘an intolerable fuck waffle’, ‘a spam email’, and lastly, he likened the sergeant to a wet sock. By the time he was done verbally kicking the man, the sergeant looked like he was one insult away from crying. Bucky thought that he deserved it. One mistake could cost someone’s life, and it almost costed yours.

Had the man simply looked deeper into the case, had he just noticed the familiar patterns of the crime, then he would know that the man you unknowingly outed was none other than the villain they had tried so hard to capture. He could not simply hand this case to another person. No, he knew what needed to be done, what level of protection you needed in order to get out of this disaster alive, and who could protect you as he resolved the case.

Which brought the two of you in front of his old friend’s cabin in the middle of nowhere. Okay, that might have been a tad bit exaggerated. Technically, Steve had neighbors in this mountains…just not near him…for miles..

Bucky cocked his head to the side, clearly confused as to what Steve said. “What?”

“We’re the same age. Therefore, If I am experiencing menopause, shouldn’t you be too?” Steve answered scathingly, clearly taking offense on Bucky’s senseless quip. He squinted his eyes at the equally tall man. Bucky’s jaw dropped dramatically, his hand covering his mouth.

“What?” He gasped theatrically. “Meaning to say you can still procreate?”

Steve clearly wasn’t amused. He stepped closer and to your astonishment, Bucky ran behind you. He humorously cowered on your back, using you as a human shield between him and the slighted former captain.

And that was the first time Steve Rogers laid his eyes on you.

To an untrained eye, no one could see him paused. But Bucky saw it. It was as though someone knocked the air out of his friend’s lungs. It was as though you were an occurrence that he never saw coming.

As the case may be, Steve led the two of you in his cozy cabin. The fire from the chimney made the place considerably warmer. Steve wordlessly placed a steaming cup of tea in front of you. Before you could even express your gratitude, he was already turning his back on you and sat on the chair in front of you and Bucky.

“Where’s my tea?” Bucky asked, looking longingly at the cup in your hands.

Steve merely spread his legs further, getting comfortable as he leveled his glare at his best friend. “She’s a guest.”

“I’m you guest, too!”

Steve shook his head slowly, “No, you’re not. You’re an unwanted nuisance, my acquaintance at best.”

Bucky could only blinked owlishly at his best friend. How could he categorized him as an acquaintance as if he didn’t grow up with him? The audacity. The nerve. But then he remembered, he must be kinder to Steve because he was the one needing a favor from him.

After Bucky went to the kitchen and served himself a tea all while mumbling under his breath how hospitable and recluse his friend had become, he went straight to business.

He laid out the facts, and Steve in turn listened intently. Bucky could see that he was just an inch closer to agreeing, and he needed just a push.

“She knows how to cook! She wouldn’t be a bother to you, right Y/N? You know how to cook?” Bucky exclaimed, his expression hopeful as he looked at you.

You shook your head slowly and you could see him visibly deflate.

“She knows how to do the laundry. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger while she’s here-“

You tapped his broad arm, before scooting closer to him. You whispered sheepishly to him, “I don’t know how to do that, too.”

“What?” he whispered back in astonishment and utter confusion.

Steve watched the two of you with a bored expression. His arms were crossed in front of him as he assessed the situation. This was not the first time Bucky used his space as a safe house. Usually, they only stay for a couple of weeks because that was how quick Bucky moved. When his best friend was intrigued with a case, he became so hyper focused that he only breathed for the case. In addition, the last time Bucky brought someone, he promised that it would be the last one.

And yet, here you were.

He could already feel the headache coming.

“Maybe you two want to talk it out first?” He asked when few minutes passed and you two were still conversing under your breaths.

Bucky offered him a sincere smile. “Come on, punk. For the spirit of Christmas, do it for me.”

He looked at him with deadpanned expression, “It’s October.”

He did not know how, but you and him watched as Bucky drove out of the property with a victorious smile on his face. How he was able to convince him was lost on Steve.

The first week went by quickly. You were somehow starting to be familiar with Steve’s routine. You noticed that early in the morning and before he locked the doors in the evening, he did parameter check. No matter how cold it was outside, he would do it without fail. You would admit that it made you feel safer. For the first time in months, you felt as though you were out of harm’s way. And in turn, you attempted to cook him meals. But that ended up a peril to the both of you…and his house.

You tried your very best to do his laundry, even his underwear. You were confused at first why you were having a hard time removing the stains form them. The look of horror in Steve’s face when he saw you hand washing his delicates was priceless. He was a man of great stature and nothing and no one managed to faze him. Until you.

He was so focused on your hands holding his underwear that he failed to notice how you were able to turn his white shirts into red.

He was still blushing and was unable to look in your eyes when that night, you gently place a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He nodded his gratitude to you before engulfing the cup with his massive hand. He took on sip before he started coughing uncontrollably. In your panicked state, you went to him and touch him for the first time. You rubbed his muscular back, looking at his reddened face.

“What is this?” He asked between coughs. Only when he looked like he was near dying did he look at you.

“A coffee,” you answered.

“With salt?!”

A look of confusion passed your face before you realization dawned on you. Hurriedly, you went to him to take his sorry excuse for a coffee away from him. You were pouring it on the sink when you heard his concerned voice near you. In fact, you failed to notice him move and stand beside you because of your embarrassment.

“What happened?”

You contemplated whether you should tell him, but for his safety (and the safety of his food) you told him. With a deep breath, you turned to look at the tall man beside you.

“I lost my sense of taste.”

“Why?”

“Traumatic brain injury,” you admitted as though this was not a big deal, as though you didn’t almost die that night.

He didn’t need to know how- he had an inclination. Your enemy was powerful. Remarkably powerful that Bucky had asked for his help when he promised never to again. You were in danger.

You thought Steve would attempt to say something comforting like other people. Yet, all he did was to look at you intensely and nod his head as if in acknowledgement of your pain.

The next morning, you woke up to find all the ingredients in the kitchen with label, his beautiful handwriting on each of the container.

It was a cold night in November when Steve and your dynamic changed. You couldn’t sleep that night, your thoughts and anxiety about your future was getting ahead of you. It was as if you no longer had something to look forward to, as if it was solitary or death. You tried everything- from counting sheep, to reciting the alphabet backwards. And yet, you still couldn’t sleep. And so, you decided to warm a glass of milk when you heard it.

A sound of pain.

Fearing that something had happened to Steve, you ran to the side of the house you had never been in. You were thankful that the door was not locked when you barged in. The only weapon in your hand was a wooden spoon you would have used to stir your milk. Your eyes swept over the darkened place to fight the danger off and found none. The danger was in Steve’s mind. He was groaning in his sleep, his brows furrowed, showing his distressed. The sheet was entangled in his muscular limbs, sweat was rolling down his forehead.

He looked like he was in pain.

And you knew what it was, you had experienced what it was. It was something you wanted to run away from, and yet, you couldn’t. You were trapped in your own mind. And tonight, Steve was trapped in his own personal nightmare.

Softly, you brushed your hand on his hair, trying to soothe him. You called his name to wake him up, running your other hand up and down his arm in a pacifying manner.

“Steve, come on. Wake up,” you whispered when he started struggling, his muscles rippling from the intense emotions and anxiety rolling off of him.

“I’m here. No one’s gonna hurt you,” you buried your face on his chest. You had read somewhere that pressure was a good thing when someone was experiencing this to keep them grounded. You had desperately prayed that someone would be there for you when you felt like dying.

“I’m here for you..”

You repeated saying that until you felt him move. And only when his breathing turned normal did you look up at his confused and frightened eyes. Seeing as he was now awake, you attempted to move only for him to shackle you to his front with his muscular arms. He looked at you as if he couldn’t believe you were there with him, as if you were an angel that saved him the moment he thought he would perish.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. You were wary at that point. You felt as though you were crossing a line- something that you could never go back to. With his face so close to yours, you could feel something you never should have felt for this was only a temporary dwelling, your resting place.

This had a deadline.

You had gotten good at ignoring how handsome he was, how strong he was, how gentle he was to you… and how patient he was to all your shenanigans.

Most importantly, you were almost successful at ignoring how protective he was of you that he did not even let you cook. Or how he always had his hand on the small of your back when you two were walking outside. Or how he always checked on you each night and bid you good night. Or how he said without words how no harm would come upon you.

Or how feminine he made you feel.

It was so unlike how other men you had dated treated you. No, they didn’t treat you wrong… they just didn’t treat you the way he was treating you. Or look at you the way he was looking at you right now.

“Please,” he whispered.

And stay, you did.

It was before sunset when you opened your eyes. A heavy arm was thrown on your stomach, you back so close to his front that you could feel his warmth and a hardness you knew what it was. You felt a tinge of heat on your core. It had been too long… You could smell Steve this close. And by heavens, he smelled like home.

He smelled like yours.

But you knew you shouldn’t get attached. This would only bring chaos to his peaceful life. You weren’t ignorant to assume that his life in the military was peaceful. He wouldn’t be like how he was last night if not for the terrors he faced during his service.

And falling for him would only bring terror in his life. You could not bring yourself to ruin the peaceful and idle life he made for himself in this mountain.

With a firm decision, you left his bed.

Steve couldn’t remember sleeping as peacefully as he did…or waking up as late as he did that morning. Yet, all the calmness he felt vanished when he woke up without you. He knew he did not dreamed you. You were there. He felt you there. He held you in his arms. You soothed the demons living in his mind.

But where were you now?

His movements were abrupt as he scanned his room. He hastily moved out of his room, sweeping a look at every room he passed. He placated himself by thinking that you might have moved back to your room to sleep only to be disappointed. Your room looked cold. You weren’t there. He felt his heart beating, the sound drumming out of his ribcage that it hurt. He felt as though he could not breathe. With a poorly constrained terror, he started calling out your name loudly as he moved to every room of his house.

And still, you weren’t there.

You left, he was convinced.

And he felt betrayed.

How could you leave just like that when you brought color to his bleak life? When for the first time in years he felt that he wasn’t alone? How could you leave like that when you were able to silence the demons he tried so hard to kill?

He was hunched over the kitchen counter when he heard a door open. Unknowing that you left a bomb to explode by stepping outside, you flashed Steve a small smile. In your hand was a bunch of flowers you had plucked from around the area. Your smile froze when he walked to you like a bull ready to eviscerate his opponent. Barely stepping back, you were unprepared when you felt his powerful arms around you, his body trembling with anger and anxiety.

“S-Steve?”

If he heard you, he didn’t give an ounce of indication. His hold on you tightened, his face buried on your dainty shoulder. It went for so long that you started feeling uncomfortable. Your mind was set from your morning walk that you would go back to treating him like a friend. You were attempting to get out of his hold when he finally did speak.

“Do you even have an ounce of idea what I would do if you end up getting hurt?” His voice was cold when he spoke. He let you go to look at you. His anger was palpable. The calm and quiet Steve you knew was gone.

“I just went out to-“

“And you didn’t think of the danger?” He asked in indignation. The way he was looking at you made you feel like a petulant child, as though you did a terrible mistake. “You didn’t think that Bucky placed you in my care only for you to get hurt because what? You wanted to pick up flowers? Are you that thoughtless-“ He finally trailed off when he saw tears threatening to fall. Your lips were quivering from hurt. Steve suddenly felt at loss. He went too far, he was afraid to admit.

Without meeting his eyes, you stepped out of his hold, placed the flowers on the counter, and went up to your room.

It was hours later when a knock disrupted you from your hateful thoughts toward him and pitying thoughts for your situation. You were pouting when the door opened, revealing the person who vexed you today. You didn’t say anything, merely threw daggers his way. Steve didn’t know how to deal with someone like you, yet he knew he was in the wrong. He let his emotions get the best of him.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he said, watching your expressionless face. You hated how he talked to you. There was already someone bungling your life and making it miserable and making you feel like you were so small that he could step on you. You didn’t need another man to do that.

Coldly, you replied, “I only accept apologies in cash.”

And that was how you found yourself in town. Steve was on guard as he walked with you, his towering height made it possible to see everyone. He was serious while you were jumping up and down from excitement. It had been close to half a year since you were out in the public, and this felt like a treat to you. You were so used to living and providing for yourself that when shit happened, it was a big adjustment for you. Yet now, you had no qualm spending his money. It was reparation for damages that he did to you, you thought.

You smiled evilly as he paid for the camera that you bought.

It was not the fanciest, you were not that evil. But it was so long since you last held a camera. You were a photographer, one of the best actually. You were winning contests left and right. One day, you were innocently taking a photo of a landscape, admiring the nature and the vast land before you. Your focus was on the deers wandering aimlessly. You went home that day like any other work day. It was the next day when you were reviewing your photos that you noticed that just behind the deers, almost hidden behind the trees, were three men. One man looked like he was running, the other two was laughing with guns in their hands. It turned out you were a witness to a crime. Not long after, the body was found.

And that was how you got entangled in this whole fiasco.

It was almost December, and the market was already decorated with Christmas lights and in the middle of it all was the huge tree. You pulled Steve in front of it, lifted the camera, and took a picture of the two of you. You were looking at the camera, and he was looking down at you with a small smile in his face.

December came. It was the day before Christmas when Steve found you in the kitchen, attempting once again to cook properly. Regardless of the taste, Steve always ate your food without any reluctance. Yet, what you were cooking looked festive that it confused him.

“Is there an occasion?” He asked as he sipped his coffee, thankfully no longer salty.

“I’m one year closer to death.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s my birthday.”

You faced him with a smile. Steve walked to you, before embracing you in his arms. “I am so happy you’re alive, angel. Happy birthday,” he whispered in your ears. He wanted to say how happy he was you were here, too. Yet, he didn’t.

That night, he laid out the table so beautifully. Candles were lit in the middle. Steve cooked for the two of you, and he took out wine from his cellar. You and him were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace with wine glass in your hand.

“You never asked me why I had a nightmare,” Steve stated, he was swirling the wine as he looked at you. You could feel his body warmth this close. The wine, the candle, and the way he looked at you felt like this was something intimate.

“I figured if you wanted me to know, you would.”

“You weren’t curious.”

“We all have demons to live with. That’s what I thought. And I hope you defeat your demons,” you admitted before sipping from your glass.

What you didn’t know was his demons were becoming less and less strong the longer you stayed with him, he thought. You could silence them.

“Did you enjoy your birthday, angel?”

“I did. Also, why are you calling me an angel?”

“Because I feel safe with you.”

“What?” You sputtered. If anything, he should be the angel with the way he took you in when he didn’t have to. “If that’s the case, you’re the angel, Steve. You make me feel safe,” you stated with sincerity in your voice.

“I know I’m an imposition to you. I’m thankful that you took me in. Bucky mentioned that he’s almost sure that this will end soon. Thank you for letting me stay here, Steve. Soon, you can have this haven all to yourself. I will never forget your kindness. You’re my angel.”

When you finally looked up, you noticed how serious he was looking at you. His eyes drifted to your lips. Unconsciously, you licked your lips. Suddenly you felt as though you were parched. Steve hated the thought of him living in this mountain without you. You had been here for only close to three months and yet, you changed him. His house no longer felt cold. His house no longer felt empty. He hated the thought of losing you.

He thought that you were meant to be here.

Steve lowered his face to you, inch by inch. Until you felt his lips on you. He kissed you slowly at first, so softly that your eyes fluttered close. It was only when you opened your lips did he kiss you with such intensity that it made your breathless. His hand was on the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. His tongue demanded entrance, and you were too willing to give in. The taste of mint and wine on his lips made you kissed him deeper. With his strength, he pulled you on top of him. You were straddling him, and his hands were discovering your curves. The hard evidence of his pleasure was pressed on your core.

You were humping him, all rational thoughts flew out of your brain the moment his lips touched yours. From this angle, you could feel how big he was. You were moaning when his lips skimmed to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your pulse was erratic, he noted. You were as affected as he was. With barely restrained impatience, Steve placed you on the carpeted floor, his body closely following as he topped you. He caressed your soft thigh, your dress falling to your waist which gave him access to your core. As if to tease you, Steve ran his hand from your neck to your chest, down to your stomach, and finally to your thong.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered in your ear. “I bet you’re dripping wet for me.” Without any warning, he tore your thong away from you. He was in the middle of your parted legs, his look dark as he focused on your core. His finger traced your slit, making you moan as he smirked at how wet you were for him. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Your cunt is so wet for me.”

He slid down. Steve opened your pussy wider with his fingers and with his tongue, he tasted you. You were shocked at how much pleasure he was giving you that when he dove in and ate you like a man starved, you felt yourself go. Yet, he didn’t stop. A finger eased in you as he sucked your clit, moaning with gusto. You were so tight that he wondered how he would fit in you. He was thinking you were his, only his after this.

You were on your second orgasm, your legs shivering when he finally lifted his face. His beard was drenched with your essence, his hair falling on his forehead as he looked at you with heat in his eyes. Your dress was the next to go.

You were too in hazed from your orgasms, and his mouth sucking ferociously on your breast that you didn’t know how he got you and him naked. Yet, the next thing you knew, he was pressing his hard cock against your pussy. He kept pressing the head against you.

“You want me,” he said darkly. It wasn’t lost on you that it was not a question. Yet, you nodded your head. Because at that moment, you did want him more than anything else.

Steve rub his cock on your swollen clit before sliding it down on your tight hole. And then he shoved it inside you, pushing you to the edge once again.

He was only too glad you were too into it that you didn’t notice he had no protection. Or that he came inside you.

He was only too glad to taste you when you were awake. He had craved hearing your moans.

He was only too glad that you were a heavy sleeper some nights that he was able to spread your legs and taste you. He even marked your pussy with his cum on some nights. Of course, you would never know that. It was his secret.

Your talk about how this would all end, how he was going to be alone soon made him crazy. You didn’t know, but you unknowingly traded a dangerous man to another devil. He’d have a talk with Bucky, of course. Bucky would understand that he had to keep you. You’d go nowhere. You were his. He had been good all his life. Didn’t he deserve a Christmas gift, too? You and a baby soon, perhaps?

He smiled at your sleeping form. He couldn’t stop himself from hugging you closer. The snow was falling beautifully outside, the fire had long simmered. The sun was starting to rise. This was what Christmas truly felt like, Steve thought.

When you finally stirred, he whispered, “Merry Christmas, my angel.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers smut #dark steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #soft!dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfic

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laroserie · 11 months ago

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— characters : my oc's - separate ! ( yandere!incubus - yandere!omega - yandere!high noble fae - yandere!piercer )

— content : x gender neutral reader - spending christmas with them, typical holiday fluff, the yandere-ness isn't really here ( expect for yan!omega )

— authors note : ... i haven't posted the introduction post for my yandere piercer but ! it's okay :) also ! this was supposed to be a lil bonus but writers block is kicking my ass so you get this

• yandere! incubus

Before you he wasn't exactly big on doing christmas at home - he used to go out in bars and picked people up to go have 'fun' in the bathroom of the said bars.

After you came into his life, and he kidnapped you, he obviously stopped doing that and finally saw the perspective that christmas was a holiday to spent with thoses that are dear to you. And well, you were more than dear to him.

He will set up and decorate the christmas tree with you - he prefer for it to be neat so he may fix up what you put up when you aren't in the room.

In term of christmas eve, unless you are a good cook - you both are eating a regular take out for it, but he will purchase a yule log though !

And for christmas in itself, he will buy you a gift - you most likely will know what it is in advance because he isn't exactly discrete when asking what 'you could eventually want but it's only hypothetical and totally not for christmas'.

On the 25th of december, he will wake you up very early, like 6am. He will act surprised and happy whatever you gift him. Will jump into your arms and kiss you. And you better act surprised and happy at this gift too if you don't want him to be all grumpy.

• yandere! omega

Asper most likely forces you two to spent christmas like a 'regular' couple - except for the all hanging out outside and looking at the decorations or going to a christmas market. It maybe a holiday season but he cannot afford any risks or you leaving him.

He will try his best though. He will decorate the entire house to be christmas themed - in the hope that he may win a few points with you, after all yes. He may be holding you captive but hey, at least he made the house cute, he deserves something for that right ?

He'll try to make you forget for a moment your current situation - he is delusional enough to think that him trying to give you a sense of normalcy ( which he do mostly for himself ) may make you like him more - or forgive him a bit for kidnapping you.

He's the type to cook an entire christmas dinner and force feed you it - he will buy oysters force them down your throat, he will cook scallops and cut them in smalls bits and make you eat them while you are tied up to a chair, with red ropes, obviously.

• yandere! high noble fae

Christmas is not really a thing for faes, they have somewhat similar holiday, mostly focused around gift giving and spending time with your family but it happen during the summer and is quite underwhelming compared to christmas.

Realistically they already knew about christmas but they couldn't bring it first, they could wait for you to bring it up. But they already have prepared a few things like a gift for you and a small tree, it's in one of their closet which they forbade you from cleaning since you started working as a servant.

Once you bring up christmas, they laugh at your face and tell you something along the line of 'Do you really think, I could celebrate a silly human holiday ? How do you take me for ?' but it will be quickly followed by a 'Well, if you beg well enough I may indulge you.". Even if you don't beg, they will be very much in on celebrating christmas.

With only the two of you of course ! They refuses to get anyone else involved - with the exceptions of their family cook which they will give the tasks of cooking.

They use this as an occasions to make a ginger bread house, they saw various things about it while reading human literature and they always wanted to try so they will act as if they only did it for you. ( The house ended up breaking after 30 seconds and the kitchen they borrowed was such a mess, cleaning up was awful and they regret their idea - they still check it out of their list of thing to do. )

• yandere! piercer

Thomas was never big on christmas and it doesn't change with you - if you really insist in it he will try his best to be enthusiastic about it but don't expect too much from him.

He won't even help you decorate or anything - at most he will get you a gift for christmas that he won't brother wrapping up and will accompany you at a christmas market solely for the food, and because he does find it cute and romantic to walk around with you in the snow.

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 2 months ago

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Harry’s Birthday Weekend PR

Don’t mind me, I’m just making a list here…

Before we get into it, the Emmys are tomorrow so any exclusive attention Harry or Meghan might get will be quickly pushed out of the news cycle by the red carpet. (If you're not familiar, the Emmys are the E in EGOT and recognize accomplishment in television. This year's ceremony is hosted by Eugene and Dan Levy and will mark the 25th anniversary of one of my favorite shows of all-time, The West Wing.)

Anyway, let's see how the fauxyals are celebrating this weekend. No links today because I'm already a bit queasy from painting.

September 10--

How Prince Harry plans to spend his 40th birthday - with help from Meghan Markle (Page Six exclusive)

September 12–

Bryony Gordon: What my friends Harry and Meghan are really like (Daily Mail exclusive)

Who's who in Prince Harry's 40th party posse? And will he let his hair down? (Daily Mail exclusive)

Prince Harry: I was anxious about 30, I'm excited about 40 (BBC exclusive statement)

Prince Harry shares the best gift he's ever received ahead of 40th birthday (Page Six)

September 13–

Pap photos of Meghan and Archie in California. Archie is cropped out of the photos. (Apparently the photos were a People exclusive from September 4th)

Prince Harry's thoughts on turning 40 and how Duke plans to celebrate with family and inner circle (Daily Mail)

Prince Harry tells of his excitement at turning 40 ahead of his birthday celebrations this weekend (Daily Mail)

The problem with Harry in royal circles? He's left behind feelings of disgust, is accused of wreaking Biblical vengeance...and some vow never to speak to him again (Daily Mail exclusive)

Prince Harry reveals the 'best gift' he's ever received as he prepares to celebrate his 40th birthday at home in California with 'close friends' (Daily Mail)

Prince Harry on turning 40: My mission is to do good in the world (Telegraph)

How the Queen Mother spent her fortune - and the millions Prince Harry is set to inherit from her (Telegraph)

Prince Harry's troubling admission amid Meghan Markle's 'absence' on trip (Mirror)

Prince Harry 'could never have envisaged his life as it is now' when he turned 30 (Mirror exclusive)

Prince William 'sent last-minute text to Prince Harry in olive branch move' (Mirror; remember, olive branch is a Sussex PR phrase)

Prince Harry hit with warning before 40th birthday as he 'wants one thing so badly' (Mirror)

Prince Harry's sweet Archie and Lilibet update could be painful for King Charles (Mirror)

Prince Harry's cryptic statement on 'fresh perspective' as painful feud rumbles on (Mirror)

Prince Harry issues surprise message about 'his mission' to mark his 40th birthdhay (Mirror)

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle 'invited to UK for Christmas' by forgotten family (Mirror)

Prince Harry facing up to 'saddest part of exile,' says royal expert (Mirror)

'Sad reason Prince Harry is determined to give Archie and Lili perfect childhood' - expert (Mirror)

Prince William's devastating text to Prince Harry that left him at a loss over next steps (Mirror)

Meghan Markle's UK return date 'revealed' amid Prince Harry Christmas royal reunion rumors (Mirror)

'Here's the real reason Prince Harry has grumpy look in photos', royal expert claims (Mirror; royal expert is Ingrid Seward and she says the grumpy look is because Harry doesn't want to be photographed)

Prince Harry's special tribute to Princess Diana in his Montecito home (Express)

Prince Harry's heartbreaking last moments with late Queen revealed (Express)

Prince Harry says he's 'excited' to turn 40 in birthday message: 'A fresh perspective on life' (People)

September 14–

Meghan is dubbed 'Duchess Difficult' by 'terrified' US staff as source claims she throws 'tantrums' and 'makes grown men cry' - while 'enabler' Harry is increasingly isolated with his closest friend his bodyguard-for-hire (Daily Mail)

King Charles 'will reach out to Prince Harry on his 40th birthday' (Daily Mail)

How conflict over fashion industry contacts sparked tension in Meghan and Kate's relationship (Daily Mail; remember, any article that lists Meghan first is Meghan PR)

Prince Harry's 'best friend': The security guard who has royal's back for more than a decade (Daily Mail)

When Prince Harry was the cheekiest member of the Royal Family (Daily Mail)

Harry at 40: Prince will be worried about 'financing' next decade says royal biographer (Mirror)

Prince Harry to receive olive branch from King Charles with huge gesture on his birthday (Mirror; olive branch is a Sussex PR phrase)

Prince Harry 'relegated from royal heir to Meghan Markle's sidekick' ahead of milestone birthday (Mirror)

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's neighbors in California are 'fed up' with couple (Mirror)

Truth behind Prince Harry's final birthday present from Diana weeks after tragic death (Mirror; Spare recap)

'Cheeky' Prince Harry's daring escape from palace prompted frantic search (Mirror)

Princess Diana's nickname for Prince Harry resurfaces as fans all say same thing (Mirror; the nickname is "my little Spencer")

Royals won't 'trust' Prince Harry again amid 'fractured' relationship, expert claims (Mirror; the expert is Chris Ship)

Meghan Markle question that meant Prince Harry 'lost a friend' (Mirror)

Princess Diana's brother's 'warning' to Prince Harry over Meghan Markle (Mirror)

Harry thought he could 'step in' during Royal crisis but William 'drew a line in the sand' (Mirror)

Hidden reason Prince William 'cut ties' with Prince Harry revealed by expert (Mirror exclusive)

Prince William won't make birthday call to Prince Harry as key reason revealed - 'don't even speak' (Mirror exclusive)

Prince Harry's pal's 5-word verdit on his life in US with Meghan (Express)

King Charles extends olive branch to Prince Harry (Express)

Meghan Markle preparing to 'take off the gloves' in plans for tell-all memoir (Express)

Prince Harr's pal 'refuses to speak to him' after private remark about Royal Family (Express)

Rare boost for Prince Harry who's 'more popular than King Charles' in US before birthday (Express)

Prince Harry and Prince William could take years to speak again (Express)

Prince Harry insists he will 'always love' the UK despite unpopularity with Brits (Express)

Prince Harry takes key steps to give 'trauma-free childhood' to Archie and Lilibet (Express)

Prince Harry is unhappy in California and filled with regret (Express)

Prince William will 'not call' brother Harry on his 40th birthday as pair no longer speak (Express)

Prince Harry snubbed by 2 celebrity pals for his birthday (Express)

Prince Harry's birthday woes as deeply unpopular in UK (Express; or something like that - the Express's website has a ton of phishing ads on it)

Prince Harry's one skewed 'belief' over UK security pleas and King Charles's position (Express)

Prince Harry reveals biggest regret about his mum Diana as milestone birthday approaches (Express)

POLL: Should the Royal Family wish Prince Harry a happy 40th birthday? (Express)

Prince Harry's heartbreaking 11-word remark about late Queen as he reveals 'real problem' (Express)

Meghan Markle is a 'dictator' who 'terrifies' staff, has 'reduced grown men to tears', bombshell Hollywood Reporter expose claims (New York Post)

#harry's birthday #sussexes #brf #pr shenanigans

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rozxii · 11 months ago

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don't say you loved me when you hated me (yourself) this much

sana x reader

wc: 1.2k

angst, extremely messy writing

it's a pity.

life moved along and you get swept up in the process, never being able to truly understand why or how you fell so hard, never being able to stand up on your own two feet again. never able to keep up with the current.

minatozaki sana was that current.

she was the end all, be all. she was the epitome of perseverance and hard work. she was the spitting image of persephone herself. and you'd never be enough for her, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you were.

because opposites attract.

though you're not sure why because how could you be her better half when you were undermined by such a huge gap between you and her? sana was surrounded by glitz and glamor, surrounded by fame and fortune, cameras in her face with blinding flashes.

her life was eventful and fun.

and yours was not.

she went on variety shows, talking away about her dream vacation out in the bahamas while you were talking away about why you chose this company to work for, bouncing from building to building. she spent her days trying to make this world a better place through any way she could, sticking out her neck for people in need like the philanthropist she was while you were just sticking your neck out on the chopping block, waiting for your corporate hell incarnate of a boss to slice it clean off.

your head rolls while sana watches.

she's unhappy and hates you.

or at least that's what you perceived it as.

but she bears witness to it all first hand. the rise and the fall of what you two were. what you became in face of her.

when you two met, you were the sweetest thing. you never forgot to compliment her on the days she felt at her worst nor did you ever forget to say good morning and good night, even when she was half way across the world on a business trip.

you even remembered to gift her parents an anniversary present before you had to leave for a week in a business trip. she fell for you as you did her because these were the parts of you that she absolutely adored. how could she not?

but maybe she was blinded too much then to see all of you.

your mouth runs, harping on about some random minute detail that you just can't quite stand after your trip and sana sits there, smiling and pretending she understands what you mean.

yes, your coworker sucked. should you have started some stupid argument and yelled at her though because of some minor inconvenience at work? that's up for debate.

sana cries that day on your couch for the first time, though you don't know it.

you were long out the door, too focused on yourself to realize what you've done. you refused to change your ways and she never stopped you. she couldn't change your mind and rather trying to no avail, she would let you be, waiting for the day and possible chance that you would realize that you were wrong.

and sana waited for a long time.

a whole year passed with you on the sidelines, bouncing from job to job as sana takes on the world. sana makes time for you, as she always would've, and wishes a long time with you though you're grumpy and unbecoming of someone celebrating their first year anniversary. you're distained at the thought of sana coming back to your quote on quote "shoddy" apartment just to celebrate when she could've 'been doing better things.'

she recognizes the looming thoughts playing around inside your pretty sweet mind, poisoning it and tainting it from the inside. she tries to ease your worries though it's not in her power to do so.

you lash out at her again during the following christmas in front of all her friends, even if it were just a spur in the moment. why was the star placed on the side of the tree instead of the top? that question sana couldn't have answered herself, because she wasn't the one who put it there. you did 4 days prior and you forgot, but you're too lost and irritated to understand that.

nayeon's distraught at the fact that sana has stayed with you for so long, all things considered, and sana tries to convince nayeon (and herself someway through the discussion) that you're worth it. though her beliefs waver.

it's three years too late before sana can even realize how superceded and twisted your mind has become. you're lost in whatever deep-rooted delusions and worries that have implanted themselves in your head. she can't go a moments notice anymore without a text on her phone, asking where she was, checking her location and prying in her affairs whenever you you had the time.

you had work, she knew that, so why were you constantly wondering where she was? why couldn't you have just trusted her when she said she was at a modeling gig? instead, you barrage her phone with a series of phone calls and messages, ones that could have people assume she was in a relationship she couldn't get out of if anyone heard.

she calls you back immediately the second she has the time to rush to the bathroom and pick up the phone, but you're tearing her ear off the second she does. she shouts over the phone, her voice bouncing off the walls. she doesn't get it. she doesn't understand why you do it. she maybe never will.

she cried for the second time in that restroom stall, covering her mouth as you rattled on about you're scared that she might cheat on you.

but she wouldn't. never. she loved you too much.

it's the new year and you look happy, though that's maybe because everything is going your way so far. you're having the time of your life with your newly made friends at this massive opening event as nayeon tries to get into a conversation with sana, dragging her to a nearby corner.

she's worried, but sana tries to ease her worries, pointing at you and saying that you're fine. the both of you are fine. nayeon doesn't pry though she's definitely still worried for her as she lets her go back to your side, where you're all up in her face again, wondering what nayeon said to her.

sana promises it was nothing though you don't believe her. you haven't believed her in a while because at this point, you couldn't believe in yourself anymore. your mind is a cluttered mess, filled with situations that even sana herself couldn't believe. you harp on about how you knew she was cheating on you, with nayeon of all people, her best friend, in front of everyone there at the party.

she slaps you there and then, leaving a red mark on your face and standing firm in place as she cried for the third time, letting these tears be the last.

she's had enough. she can't wait any longer. she absolutely couldn't. cameras flash all around her as you laugh in disbelief at sana's next 5 words, your hand hovering over your cheek.

"fuck you, y/n. we're done."

#sana imagines #sana scenarios #sana x reader #sana angst #twice x reader #twice scenarios #twice imagines #twice angst

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