#cold nights cosy hearts

[darktrashsoulbear]

Cold Nights, Cosy Hearts

Modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend!reader

Based on this request made by Hannah @gwaynesprincess

Summary: After an unexpected interruption to their cosy night in, Aemond and reader try to find a way to somehow salvage the night and spend some quality time together.

House of the Dragon Masterlist

Taglist

Warnings: Smut, minors do not interact

Word Count: 3350

Divider Credit: @saradika-graphics

Any likes, comments and reblogs are always always appreciated :)

The sound of his ringtone interrupted Aemond’s reading of Arnold J. Tonybee’s ‘A Study of History’. With a grin he looked down at his phone hoping it was his angel. The grin soon soured as he declined the call, eyes rolling to the back of his skull - Aegon. Averting his attention back to his book he continued, the serene silence making for the perfect autumn, late afternoon atmosphere to catch up on his reading as he waits for his angel to come home.

Aemond learnt from a young age that his elder brother had a penchant for ruining perfect moments, he was a fool to think this time was an exception. He hastened to the front of the flat not wanting the neighbours to believe there was an attempted break in occurring at the sheer volume of the banging at the door. Swinging open the door sporting a glare that could freeze the sun, Aemond grasped the arm of the nuisance and dragged him inside before quickly slamming it shut again.

Said nuisance, unphased by his anger, jumped onto the sofa in order to lay down - ignorant to his shoes rubbing all over the fabric. Momentarily unsure of how to react to the scene before him, Aemond stilled before snapping back to reality and ripping Aegon’s legs off of the sofa, almost throwing him to the floor. 

“Oi, what was that for!”

“Get out Aegon!” Aemond snapped not bothering to dignify his question with a response

“Must I remind you that it was YOU who just yanked me through the door, weirdo!” Aegon fired back, his amusement clear

“Why are you here?” The younger demanded

“I had no other choice with you dodging my calls!” Aegon continued, “what if it was urgent?”

“Is it?” he questioned, defeatedly leaning against the wall adjacent to the sofa

The hesitation that followed told Aemond all he needed to know as he, once again, began ushering his brother out, telling him he’s busy. Stubbornly Aegon refused clinging onto the backrest of the sofa as though his life depended and at this point, it very well could have. As the brother’s struggled they found themselves on the floor, forgetting the actual task at hand and just exchanging brotherly blows trying to get the advantage.

The scene you walked in on was one you wouldn’t forget. On the carpet before you was Aemond half kneeling on the floor with Aegon wrapped around the one not touching the floor, like a koala - seemingly in a struggle as you watched one of Aemond’s hands go from trying to pry him off to his hair and yank. At this you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore as, body curling in as the sound of your cackles rang out. 

This caused Aemond to lose focus, letting go of Aegon’s strands, as his head snapped back towards you. Just as he opened his mouth and went to say something, Aegon used his distraction to his advantage and rose up, arms still wrapped around Aemond’s leg using it to shove him onto his back and triumphantly sat on both his legs, pinning them down and casually waving at her. 

“If you boys are busy then I can text Helaena, see if she wants to meet up or something,” you suggested, half genuinely wanting to give them space and half desperately not wanting to be forced to babysit the two brothers.

“That would be grea…” Aegon began but was cut off by Aemond yet again burying a hand in his hair in order to free himself.

“No!” he interjected, “we promised we’d spend the evening with each other, I’ve got the movies rented and menus ready to order a takeaway. Just give me a sec to get rid of him and we can start baby.”

Aegon finally freeing himself again began “I may have a thing for hair pulling but certainly not with you little brother, with your girlfriend on the other hand…” he trailed off, shooting you a wink, “and now there’s no way you’re getting rid of me, movies and a takeaway? Count me in!” he moved back over to sit in the middle of the sofa tapping the spots on either side of him with his hands.

Aemond chose to ignore him entirely and walked over to his angel, grasping your hands and telling you to go “relax, get into something comfortable and decide what we should watch first” while he dealt with the 5”9’ problem in the flat. However, before you could even take a step in the direction of their bedroom, you were interrupted by a loud declaration from the man on the sofa.

“I do agree you should get changed doll, but into something to go out in. The three of us are going to go meet some people at the pub, maybe go out after”

Judging by the vein protruding from the side of her boyfriend’s neck, you knew now was the time to step in. Nodding to Aegon, you grasped Aemond’s hand, interlocked your fingers and led him to their bedroom, ensuring the door was locked behind them. You guided him to take a seat on the bed as she stood before him, bringing his head against her stomach, running one hand through his hair and the other massaging circles between his shoulder blades.

After a few minutes of silence, Aemond mumbled something about how Aegon must have a compulsion of ruining everything. His angel only softly chuckled as you continued soothing him.

“Would it be so bad if we indulged him and just went along?” You began before he moved his head away and looked up as if you’d sprouted another head, taking a seat next to him you quickly added on, “Let’s say we do go, what would really happen? We have a drink or two with him, then he gets distracted by a pretty girl and leaves us alone, we have a couple of drinks and chat, then we come back here and watch movies and get a takeaway like we planned.”

After a moment of thought, the corner of Aemond’s lips quirked up and he put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in to press a few kisses on the top of her head. “A fine plan, my angel, a fine plan indeed.”

Preening at the praise you added “and besides we could use this as an excuse to get out of future plans we want no part of, ‘what do you mean we never go out with you Aegon? Do you not remember last time when we cancelled our date night just to join you, only for you to ditch us for a girl?’ We’d have a solid argument baby.”

At this Aemond let out a genuine laugh, pulling you up to her feet before wrapping his arms around your waist. He pressed a kiss to your lips, trailing his hands further down, copping a feel before letting her go to allow the two of them to get ready for the night.

One would think that after acquiescing to his wishes, Aegon would become more manageable. That would incorrect, instead he was bounding down the street as free as a child half his age. Aemond and his angel trailed behind him, huddling closer together for warmth. His left and your right were in the pockets of your own coats while the others were intertwined and shoved into Aemond’s other pocket.

Reaching the too lively pub, Aemond tugged you inside, eyes frantically scanning the place for an available seat. Aegon, of course, made a beeline for the bar and was frantically waving back at them to join him. Smirking, his angel pulled him over towards him and he reluctantly trailed behind. 

“See guys, isn’t this so fun? Seriously Aem I don’t know how you managed to bag a girl like her, what with the giant stick permanently lodged up your -” Aegon was cut off by you sliding close to the rogue.

“Don’t look now Aegon but that girl over there, on the other side of the bar, she’s staring at you. Like really really into it,” and Aegon of course immediately whipped around, eyes zeroing in on the girl whose eyes were flicking over with mild interest - but he didn’t need to know that.

“Well then, my lady, weirdo, I’d best not deprive her of the best night of her life for much longer! I’ll catch you guys in a second, just stay close.” Aegon instructed, walking backwards towards the girl in the hot pink dress.

With that the couple were left alone and Aemond’s relief was evident. As Aemond got the attention of one of the bar staff, you turned to find somewhere a lot more discreet to sit. Spotting somewhere in the back you grabbed the drinks as he paid and the two of you made your way over to a small table near the back.

Taking a seat on the small stools you set the drinks down and Aemond turned to you giving you a small smile and retaking your hand, palm up, tracing the lines on it. Abruptly looking up a final time his eyes darted back over the where Aegon was, relieved to see he was still by the markedly more interested looking girl.

Turning back to your eyes he felt an overwhelming sense of adoration flow through him, reaching out he tucked a rogue strand of your hair behind your ear as you bit your lip looking up at him with a gaze that made him dearly regret ever entertaining the idea of leaving their bedroom.

Just as he cupped your face with one hand, the other tugging your chin up and closer, and began leaning in, he heard a dull thud on the opposite side of their table top. Looking across you saw a man at least in his early 40s, wearing a worn suit slump into the stool opposite you - eagerly grabbing and downing half his pint of Guinness.

Slowly he lifted his gaze to the two of you and looked at you as though you were the inconveniences. Which apparently was the final straw for Aemond as he gave him the deepest scowl you’d ever seen. This caused one of the most amusing exchanges of words you’d ever seen your boyfriend involved in…

“Don’t know why you’re giving me that look boy, you don't own the table you know,” the man began.

“Look mate, I meant no harm, me and my girl were just wanting-” Aemond began feeling less than civil.

“Oh boy you couldn’t harm a fly even if you did mean it,” the man scoffed, flicking his hand dismissively.

You could see the way Aemond’s hand tightened into a fist and his jaw clenched. Knowing you had to do something to de-escalate the situation you opened your mouth to address him.

“Don’t you even think about putting your two-pence missy, this is between me and the lad,” the balding man interjected.

At this your eyes widened, eyebrows slightly lifted momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of the man that came and sat at your table. Aemond angled his head towards you, his gaze sending a clear message ‘just say the word and I’ll deal with it’. But before he was given the chance your pint of Stella Artois somehow made its way all over the man’s front.

At his shocked gasp, you and Aemond looked at each other and the message was clear. Run. Darting out of the pub, hand in hand, Aemond leading the way. The seven o’clock evening chill in the night was biting compared to the heat in the pub and caused you to shiver as you realised you left your coat inside near the bar.

Realising this Aemond offered to go back and fetch it but not wanting to risk getting barred from the pub, you shook your head reassuring him that you’d be fine for the walk home. Turning to begin the walk, another shiver coursed through you as you attempted to huddle further into your knitted dress, thankful you had the forethought to wear plain black leggings instead of tights.

Observing, Aemond tugged on your wrist causing you to swivel back as he draped his own coat around your shoulder, helping you slide you arms in. You tried to refuse, insisting he kept it for himself, but vehemently denied you stating that Targaryen’s have warmer blood - thanks to their royal lineage from centuries ago, blood of the dragon apparently.

Finally acquiescing, you gave him a peck on the lips grasping his left hand to shove into the coat pocket until he yet again stopped you. Looking up at him confused, he moved you so that you were now standing on his right - away from the pavement. He then allowed his right hand to find home in the coat’s  pocket, the other sliding into the pocket of his jeans.

Seeing your eyes roll at his actions, he simply gave you a smirk “you always claim that chivalry is dead in modern society angel, I’m simply proving otherwise”.

Turning the corner, relief filled you as you spotted your flat building meaning you’d soon be out of the cold. As much as Aemond liked to pretend he was unaffected you could tell the cold was getting to him. Still clasping his hand in the coat pocket you leaned against his side providing as much as you could without bruising his ego. As he looked down at you, you could see the shift in gaze, darkening at you wearing his clothes.

He abruptly stopped and walked you back until your back hit the brick wall behind you, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, the other sliding down to the small of your back pushing you against him. As he leaned his forehead against your own, your hands trailed up - one hand resting against his chest, the other coming up to curl around the back of his neck. Your legs slightly opened allowing his thigh to slot in between your own.

Just as he leans down to finally lock your lips in what was sure to be a passion infused breathtaking kiss, a shocked gasp interrupted him. An incredibly deep and agitated groan escaped Aemond, was having a brief uninterrupted moment with the love of his life really so much to ask for?

Slowly pulling away from each other, detangling your limbs you looked over at where the sound came from. It was Billy, the little boy from a few doors that had an affinity for sneaking out while his parents were distracted. Walking over you crouched down before him, “Hey Billy, are you alone sweetheart?”

He hesitated before slightly nodding his head “…yeah”.

“Are your mum and dad upstairs?”, prompting another small nod of his head.

“Well then I guess Aemond and I should take you back up to them, right Aemond?” You said over your shoulder.

Aemond, in return gave a deadpan look - to which you responded with your own - but eventually nodded wrapping an arm around you, pulling you inside as Billy’s little hand grasped your own.

Walking over towards the lifts Aemond went inside and pressed the up button. That’s when you noticed the out of service sign and couldn’t help but chuckle at how the universe seemed to be plotting against him tonight. 

Taking a deep breath to steady himself he ushered you and Billy up the stairs before following after, which proved to take a lot longer than initially thought due to Billy’s much smaller legs climbing up to the fourth floor. Finally arriving you quickly stepped across the hallway walking past your door to the flat three doors down and rang the doorbell.

It was safe to say Billy’s mother had quite the shock when she pulled it open to be met with her son, the friendly neighbour and her sometimes friendly boyfriend standing before her. Recovering quickly she immediately began chastising Billy for wandering off again and profusely thanking the two of you for returning him safely. Reassuring her that it was no trouble at all, you allowed Aemond to drag you away back up the hallway and into your own flat.

Closing the door behind him, he turned to you the same predatory glint in his eye returning as he eyed you up and down, drinking you in.

As you pushed  Aemond up against the door to your bedroom, he removed his coat from around you, throwing it to the floor all while kissing each other as though your lives depended on it. Parting from him you turned the doorknob behind him, pulling him behind you with a finger curled around one of the belt loops on his trousers.

Moving him to sit on the bed, you pulled his sweater off along with the top he was wearing underneath. You then guided him to stand and instructed him to take off his trousers and pants as you removed your own dress and leggings. As he returned to full height, stark naked he gazed into your eyes, waiting. 

Parting your legs before you, you slightly tilted your head down and that’s all the prompting he needed as he gracefully fell to his knees before you. Hooking your left leg over his shoulder, he began kissing up your leg - starting at your calf- licking and sucking as he went.

When he finally reached the apex of your thighs your body fell back against the mattress as he licked as though it was his final meal, nose rubbing against your clit, tongue dipping inside your core. Moans and whimpers escaped your lips as you pleaded - unsure of what for but he seemed to understand as he drove you closer and closer to your release.

Finally with his whisper of “let go for me, my love” you tipped over the edge, thighs shaking and back arched, fisting the sheets.

Climbing up the bed, Aemond’s hand stoked your hair bringing you down from your high. Flipping over onto your stomach, you brought your hand down to wrap around him before sitting up to straddle his thighs, pushing him back to lean against the headboard. Reaching back to unclip your bra, you threw it in the direction he’d discarded your panties.

Re-taking his length in your hand, you guided him to meet your entrance, sinking down you both let out pleasured groans. As he reached up towards your breasts, you took both hands in yours and pinned them by his sides - intertwining your fingers as you moved up and down. Leaning over to kiss him again, you allowed him to move from your lips, down your neck and chest until they wrapped around one of your nipples - alternating between the two between chants of your name.

Switching so your hips were now rotating in circles and grinding against him to make him brush against your g-spot. Releasing his hands you allowed him to touch you all over. Moving your hand to circle his throat you felt his heart beating erratically as the other hand moved to brace yourself against his hard chest as you leaned forward which allowed him to piston his hips up, chasing both of your releases.

When he felt you squeezing him tighter than before he moved a hand down to your clit, driving you to your release as he chased his own. Staring into each other's eyes you fell apart together while you collapsed against his chest. Arms wrapping around you, he rolled you to your side, pressing a kiss to your lips as he left to grab a rag to clean the both of you up.

Returning, he pulled you against his chest as you both felt the built up exhaustion from your day overcoming you. Before allowing sleep to whisk you away, you once again made eye contact, gazes expressing nothing but the pure depth of love you hold for each other. Regardless of how the day didn’t go to plan, in the end you had each other and that’s all that mattered.

[lay-z]

sleepy omega!reader x poly 141 just constantly wanting cuddles or just sliding into their beds in the middle of the night because the massive stuffed teddy in their nest isnt doing it for them-

Gosh dang it, I've become such a sucker for anything Omegaverse 🥹 Thank you for your request! I hope you'll like this blurb 🩷 And I'm so sorry this took so long, omg!

Pairing: alpha!TF-141 x omega!gn!Reader

Warnings/Info: military!Reader; packmates; alpha/omega dynamics; domesticity; hurt/comfort; fluff; teammates/friends to lovers

No matter how much you're tossing and turning while clinging to your favourite ginormous bear plushie (a gift from Price himself), your nest feels... off. It's not nearly as warm and cosy enough as you need it, and you don't understand why.

You haven't made any big changes, have you? You'd simply fluffed up all the blankets and pillows and plushies you own; the usual routine. Your nose wrinkles as you sit up inside your nest to sniff around in the dark. Okay, perhaps the scent of your pack mates isn’t quite there anymore—only barely lingering on your nesting materials, but that shouldn’t bother you as much as it does right now.

They’re right here, just across the hallway in their respective rooms or perhaps still lounging in the living room, quietly suffering with their episodic insomnia. So, knowing that they’re under the same roof with you should be enough, but it simply isn’t.

As you dig yourself out from under your pillow fortress, you immediately shiver as soon as the chilly winter breeze currently sweeping in through the cracked window hits your flushed body, because even in the deepest winter season, you cannot sleep with the window closed. And now clad, or rather drowning, in one of Simon’s hoodies and a pair of warm sweatpants, you’re still cold.

No, something isn’t quite right.

You feel too restless, uncomfortable, and lonely.

Crawling out of your nest, you scramble to your feet and make your way out of your bedroom and into the living room down the hall—where you can already see the flickering light of the flat TV around the corner, though the volume is low and heavily drowned out by your pack leader’s hackle-raising snores. 

Peeking around the corner, not wanting to disturb him, you find John sprawled out on the large armchair, clutching the remote in one hand, his head tipped back and mouth wide open while he continues to sound like a berserker with sinusitis. It’s an endearing sight, seeing him this openly vulnerable and relaxed, and you can't stop yourself from getting a whiff of his sleepy, musky scent as you sniff the air greedily.

It makes your heart flutter and a pleasant shiver run down your spine.

Oh, how tempted you are to simply walk up and crawl into his lap, bury your face into his chest and sleep with him like this, but you don’t want to risk waking him up, so you let out the softest sigh and slowly turn to sneak off into the other direction, back towards your own cold, empty bedroom—

Just to bump into a tall, solid mountain of lean muscle.

“Havin’ fun stalking the Cap while he’s knocked out cold?”

You swallow a surprised squeak and stare up at Kyle with wide doe-eyes as he swiftly reaches out to grasp your forearms to keep you steady and in place. His voice is soft, full of amusement, his warm brown eyes nearly twinkling in the flickering lights of the TV as he looks down at you. “Aw, did I scare ya, little mouse?”

You shake your head adamantly. “No, I was just getting a glass of water.” It’s a white lie, but you don’t want to start explaining something you have no explanation for yet.

Kyle lifts an eyebrow and releases you to cross his arms as he scrutinizes you while you can clearly see his nostrils twitch as he scents you discreetly.

“I see,” he replies eventually, though, knowing Kyle, you can tell that he’s not buying your lie one bit. “So, you’re good, yeah? Headin’ back to your den then?”

The question lingers in the air and as you open your mouth to answer, he beats you to it.

“Or perhaps another room tonight?” Kyle watches your lashes flutter as you blink dumbly, and he ignores the sudden urge to squish your cheeks with his hands and pull your face against his neck to scent-mark you thoroughly. “I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “ya haven’t been seekin’ out any one of us lately, ‘s all.” He’s not accusing you, just stating an observation he’s made.

And it’s true. You haven’t been seeking out the alphas of your pack; too afraid to be viewed as annoying or too clingy. It’s been hard enough to be the only omega in TF-141, after all. You don’t want to be their burden but an asset instead. 

Swallowing thickly, you really wish you had a cold glass of water right about now. “Uhm, well–” You press your lips into a tight line before you shrug, feeling like a complete idiot. At this point, you might be worse than Simon when it comes to articulating your feelings—not that you’d ever willingly admit that out loud.

“I just... don’t wanna bother anyone. You’re all stressed and busy and uh... yeah, I’ll just go back to my room, I guess,” you grumble, hoping that neither sadness nor disappointment spike your scent to tell on you.

Kyle lets out a small huff through his nose and rolls his shoulders as he listens to you. There’s a slight twitch between his brows as you mention being a bother to them, but then he fixes his face into a more neutral expression before he steps aside.

“Alright. Have a good night, sweetheart.”

You give a small nod, wishing deep down that he’d simply tug you along and make you sleep in his bedroom tonight, but Kyle stands stock still, and you walk past him back down the hall and into your empty, chilly omega den—somehow feeling worse than before.

Your gloomy bedroom feels even colder while you rearrange your nest for the third time, but never feeling satisfied with it. You keep swallowing down the little, high-pitched chuffs and whines of distress bubbling up in your throat; afraid someone might hear or smell the underlying bitterness now lacing your usually bloomy, comforting scent.

When the door suddenly creaks open, you freeze and hold your breath, spine straightening as you kneel in the middle of your nest, clutching your plushie to your chest.

“Relax,” Johnny chuckles quietly, his voice hoarse and gravelly with sleep, “…s’ jus’ me, hen.”

He slips through the crack and leaves the door ajar before he casually walks towards your nest, stretching languidly with a yawn before slipping inside with you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble reflexively, nearly whining, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

But Johnny only clucks his tongue, eyes already fluttering shut in bliss as he pulls you into his arms. “None ‘o tha’, hen,” he grumbles, letting out a contented chuff as soon as he buries his nose into your hair. “Ah missed ye.”

The vibration of his low rumble makes you shiver, it breaks you out of your momentary stupor, and you swiftly reciprocate his embrace, burying your nose into his neck and huffing his lightly smoky scent eagerly with a happy purr.

And while you and Johnny cuddle, bringing balance back to your room, your bedroom door is pushed open once more and a warm, musky scent is added to the atmosphere—like suede and cask aged bourbon.

Simon slips into your nest and curls his massive body around you from behind with nothing more than a deep, sleepy grumble as his heavy arm snakes around your torso, pulling you closer until the tip of his nose is pressed against the nape of your neck.

Feeling like you’re finally on omega cloud nine at this point, surrounded by two of your precious alphas in your own nest, you can barely hear the other two males stumbling into your room above the beginning snores coming from both Johnny and Simon.

“C’mon, Cap, this way.” Lifting your head up, you can hear Kyle mutter quietly as he guides a sleep-drunk Captain Price towards your nest.

“Stay.” Johnny mumbles in his sleep, curling his arm tighter around your waist below Simon’s arm as you shift in their snug embraces, but before you can reply, Price lets out a soft growl—not a warning but a non-verbal order—and suddenly, all four men arrange themselves in your nest, dragging their bulky bodies around sluggishly until they’ve build a proper cuddle pile around you.

They end up snuggling and hugging you one way or another, their noses pressed into your skin while you’re practically buzzing as you purr for them.

“T’was a proper pain in the arse to wake ‘em up, sweet’eart,” Kyle mutters with a soft sigh, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Next time you feel like this, you let us know. We’re here to take care of our ‘mega… and don’t lie to me again,” he grumbles, interlacing his fingers with yours tenderly while your heart thuds steadily against your chest.

“You’re a shit liar.”

[the-travelling-witch]

CUTE THINGS WITH HIM

summary: just some cute things they do in a relationship

pairings: atsumu :: osamu :: suna :: kita :: oikawa :: iwaizumi :: matsukawa:: semi :: akaashi :: kenma :: kuroo :: daichi :: suga :: sakusa :: komori :: futakuchi :: keishin x gn! reader (these characters just started adding themselves, i swear)

warnings: only my undying love for these characters

haikyuu masterlist || tokyo revengers version

Letting you stick your cold feet under his legs (with only minimal complaints) x Miya Atsumu

Atsumu is a whiny complainer at heart, so whenever you creep your frigid feet underneath his thighs while watching a movie, he’s doing exactly that: whine and complain. But he never pushes you away or moves his legs. Instead he drapes the blanket higher over you and tugs it in, his warm palms running up and down your calves caringly. He’s also bought you numerous pairs of fuzzy socks and cosy blankets, worrying aloud about your health and blood flow, especially in winter. Then again, it is a good excuse to pull you in closer and bundle you up in his comfy clothes, so who is he to complain, really?

Offering you his food x Miya Osamu

Osamu takes his food very seriously, still, he offers you the first bite without fail. You’re also his most important critic, always getting to taste test his creations, whether it’s for his shop or just for the two of you. He might roll his eyes playfully when you eye his food after saying you’re not hungry but he’ll still share. After all, seeing the content expression on your face as you chew your (or his) food is one of his favourite things.

Sending you stupid memes x Suna Rintarō

The fact that Suna has a near infinite amount of unflattering candids and other blackmail material of his friends on his phone is something you’re well aware of. So it shouldn’t be surprising either that he is digging up the most cursed reaction pics or posts to send them to you with nothing but ‘u’ following it. But, among all the weird stuff, he sends you cute animals cuddling and tags them with ‘us’. Every time you respond with ‘that could be us but you’re at practice’, his teammates come up to ask what he’s smiling about.

Buying flowers without occasion x Kita Shinsuke

Kita doesn’t believe in letting societally accepted commercial holidays dictate when he buys you flowers or chocolates or takes you out on a date. No, he prefers showing his love for you equally all year round. Oftentimes, that means you coming home to a bouquet of flowers or being told to keep your calendar clear for the weekend. To him, grand shows of affection once a year pale in comparison to a steady stream of adoration. After all, your relationship is built on the small acts of love you share each day.

Taking weird photos with his phone x Oikawa Tōru

There’s no room to argue that Oikawa and you trust each other blindly. Considering the circumstances of his career and the vigour of his adoring fans, you kinda have to. But Oikawa has always been very open and honest with you, even going so far as to outright tell you his phone’s passcode. And you use that knowledge wisely. No, not to go through his texts or social media. Instead you open his camera when he’s not around, taking a myriad of selfies or pictures of random objects near you for him to find later. After a night out with his highschool friends, Tōru might wake up to a pretty set of new wallpapers too.

“Helping” him work out x Iwaizumi Hajime

You’re not sure if you’re really all that helpful as you shuffle around your living room, handing Iwa water or a towel as he powers through his at home workout. Maybe ogling his biceps or the way his tank top clings to the defined pecs and abs underneath is what you contribute to this training session. Well, you’re good at that, anyway. But your time to shine comes as Iwa asks you to hold onto his legs as he does sit-ups, giving you an even better view. All your hard work is rewarded with the kiss he presses to your lips each time he leans up. 

“Is this guy bothering you” x Matsukawa Issei

Whenever you stub your toe on the edge of a drawer or bump your hip into the edge of a table, hissing at the shock and/or pain, Matsukawa is right beside you in seconds. Then, after assessing you’re not actually hurt, he turns towards the offending object with a glare. With his voice lowered by an octave or two, he’ll ask “Is this guy bothering you” before pretending to get ready for a fight with the big bad. It’s corny but you’d lie if you said it didn’t make you laugh.

Shared headphones and playlists x Semi Eita

Music is Semi’s passion, naturally he wants to share that part of his life with you. Not only does he play his own songs for you, he also shares his headphones with you, adding all the songs you like to your shared playlist. You’ve also started making recommendation playlists or playlists with songs that remind you of the other and swap them regularly. Driving with Semi is also the most fun, especially on late summer nights with the windows down, going nowhere in particular.

Understanding each other without words x Kozume Kenma

To outsiders, conversations between Kenma and you might seem a little court or even incomprehensible. He just happens to be the type that lets his actions speak rather than his words, unless he gets really fired up about something. Still, your communication seems to work perfectly - or maybe both of you just share a brain cell. Questions like “Have you seen my…” can just be left hanging like this as you’re already pointing out that his old Nekoma sweatpants are in the wash. But no conversations are clearer than the ones you can hold through eye contact alone. Sometimes rolling your eyes conveys more than a thousand words… or however that saying goes.

Letting you win x Kuroo Tetsurō

Despite his suit and tie career, Kuroo is still a playful guy at heart and he’s carrying that energy into your relationship. He also grew up around Kenma, so making a game out of ordinary stuff is normal to him. That said, even if he challenges you in a board or video game, he’ll let you win on purpose every now and then. Not enough to give himself away, but often enough to see your beaming grin. However, if it’s a physical contest like an arm wrestling match, he will let you win (or rather he won’t let you lose immediately) just to tease you over it. Aw c’mon, he knows you’re stronger than this, sweetheart.

Good morning/ good night texts x Sawamura Daichi

Daichi is a busy guy, often out of the house before you wake up or back in after you go to sleep. Depending on which shift he has to work and how your schedules line up, you might not see much of each other for some time. But that won’t stop him from being the sweetest partner, instead sending you good morning and good night texts as well as updates on his day/night, if he has the time. It’s something that came with the territory of not living together before, but the practice never really retired. Equally, it puts him in a good mood to see you update him on your day as well.

Bragging about you x Sugawara Kōshi

Suga is your number one fan, no doubt about it. Not only is he vocal about that to you but also everybody else, whether you’re there or not. Daichi and Asahi are kind of used to it already, but there is always some new unfortunate soul who gets to experience just how smitten he is with you. He never makes it uncomfortable but weaves his praise for you naturally into a conversation. And if it flusters you, that’s just all the better. Although, lately, the classes he’s teaching have picked up on it and are trying to stall for time by asking questions about you.

Writing notes x Sakusa Kiyoomi

This probably started out as something entirely practical. After moving in together, Sakusa just started labelling stuff, writing grocery shopping lists and sticking them to the fridge, especially on days where he left early for practice. By the time you pointed out he could just text you at any given time, he’d already gotten used to this little habit of his. But his messages had slowly turned from chore-related to reminding you to take care of yourself or informing you he prepped lunch for you to just telling you he loves you. The first time he wrote that last one, he blinked down at the note for a few moments before sticking it to the mug cabinet.

Midnight snack run x Komori Motoya

Obviously, Komori wishes his job wouldn’t pull him away from you as often as it does. Though that being said, it also makes coming home after an away game all that sweeter and he feels like the constant change of pace makes him cherish the moments you do get to spend together more than he already does. And he appreciates that you can indulge him, both in his lifestyle and whenever he gets a sudden burst of energy. So yeah, now you’re bundled up in one of his hoodies as you go on a late night snack run, your hand in his as you walk along the calm streets.

Remembering little things about you x Futakuchi Kenji

Futakuchi comes pre-installed with an attitude, no matter who you are to him, it’s his factory setting. And while he’s a lot softer on you as his partner, he’ll still give you a sarcastic quip or poke some fun at you when you complain about something to him. But he always listens carefully and commits it to memory. You offhandedly mentioned you’re running out of something? He adds it to his shopping list. You rant to him about a coworker who’s giving you trouble? Oh, he remembers everything you told him about that guy before (and he’s ready to drag him to hell and back if it makes you feel better). Whenever your birthday or an anniversary rolls around, he never has trouble picking out a gift for you; Kenji could list so many things you’re into or that you could have use for in your everyday life, it’s not even a challenge.

Getting into your hobbies x Ukai Keishin

Keishin has got to be one of the most supportive partners ever. Whatever you set your mind to or whichever hobby you dive into, he’s there to root for you. But he doesn’t stop there; he reads up on your interests, so he can actively participate in the conversation when you talk about them. Similarly, he also adapts to your lifestyle and tries to show up for you in all walks of life. You, on the other hand, also get involved in his life too; his parents were keen to meet you, considering they hounded Keishin to get married in his 20s already. He’d also be over the moon if you showed interest in his work as a coach and met the Karasuno Volleyball Club.

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haikyuu!!: @mccnstruck

[stayfortwominutes]

💭 reaction: bc, lk, hj, sm | pillow talk

disclaimers: written from third person perspective, no depictions of the members' personalities, actions or thoughts reflect their true character.

pairing: skz members × gn reader | content: fluff, mentions of anxiety and other mental health terms

‧ ୨୧ ‧ pillow talk: intimate conversation and moments between a couple ‧ ୨୧ ‧

‧ ୨୧ ‧ 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏 ‧ ୨୧ ‧

୨୧ you and chan both shared a love for affection and when you would stir in the middle of the night, squirming in his embrace ー likely from a nightmare ーhe would reach over to your side to turn on the lamp, easing his grip to give you room to breathe.

୨୧ he would gently wake you by squeezing your arm, wanting to make sure you felt safe. before you can fully grasp the situation, your bleary eyes come into focus to discover chan leaning over you with his eyebrows furrowed, and concern flooding his eyes. his hand hovers over your forehead, a soft cloth in his grasp, that he kept nearby to help wipe the cold sweat that often accompanied your unpleasant dreams.

୨୧ once chan notices you have rejoined him in the realm of the conscious, a small lopsided smile would emerge on his face: "it'll be alright, it was just a dream" ー he would repeat this in a comforting, hushed tone. without a single word, he would bring you some water, in case you needed to refresh yourself.

୨୧ as you two begin to lay back down and settle in, chan would have his arms open, ready to cradle you back to sleep. without skipping a beat, you would find yourselves in a mess of tangled limbs. you press several short kisses against his cheek in appreciation of his thoughtfulness, before cuddling into him, ready to return to a deep slumber with the silent, hopeful wish of reuniting together in your dreams.

୨୧ this time, you relish, both emotionally and physically, in the warmth of chan's care: a fuzzy warmth emanates from your heart.

‧ ୨୧ ‧ 𝒍𝒆𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 ‧ ୨୧ ‧

୨୧ the topics during your pillow talk sessions are generally light hearted ー ranging from how the day went to whatever thoughts had been preoccupying either of you that week ー it was always a moment of unfiltered thoughts, frequent laughter, and momentary, childish debates.

୨୧ often times, you could be very animated, as you lay on your back, eyes to the ceiling detailing your grand dream from an earlier nap, minho lays on his side, gazing at your silhouette, completely enamoured.

୨୧ one arm props him up, and the other is busy gently patting your stomach above the covers. you are both cosy underneath the blankets in your matching gingham pajamas. a delicate, loving smile is etched on minho's face that cracks only to hum in agreement, or annoyance, should something have upset you. during moments of serious contemplation, you would lean into him to fiddle with the hem of his top, fingers haphazardly grazing against the skin of his abdomen causing him to stifle a laugh because for his sanity, he would rather you did not know just how ticklish he was.

୨୧ occasionally, when your movements are a little too energetic, and the blanket falls away from your waist, minho nonchalantly gathers it and subtly tucks it back into place, it's a habit that he had developed from day one since you had moved in, and you always appreciated it, reciprocating the act with a peck to his knuckles or cheekily against his pulse point.

୨୧ when minho would notice your voice becoming quieter and your speech slurring from sleepiness, he would pull you closer in his arms, shifting like a puzzle piece that fit perfectly against you.

୨୧ the arm that propped him up would become your pillow, and you naturally snuggled, akin to his feline siblings, into his chest, favouring his left side so you could enjoy the lull of his heartbeat as you drifted off.

୨୧ on nights when you felt restless, he would offer to sing, which you would gladly accept, with your ear planted firmly against his chest, captivated by the reverberation of his voice, the soothing atmosphere would swiftly assuage your worries.

‧ ୨୧ ‧ 𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏 𝒋𝒊𝒏 ‧ ୨୧ ‧

୨୧ after the two of you showered, and changed into your pajamas; yours was one of hyunjin's oversized shirts ー just being engulfed by his scent gave you a glimpse of a sanctuary from the demands, frustrations and stress of the outside world; a place where you could just peacefully exist ー the full experience was only true when you were enveloped in his loving arms.

୨୧ due to your respective schedules, when you two finally reconnected, it was already nighttime so you made a conscientious promise to each other to spend even just a moment of heartfelt, quality time together. on this occasion, you nestled in his lap, between his thighs, as he busied himself with drying and eventually braiding your hair.

୨୧ besides talking through your days, hyunjin loved sharing the photographs he had recently taken and any sketches he had been working on. with genuine interest, you exchanged thoughts, and oftentimes, you earnestly encouraged him to transform his sketches into paintings, try new mediums and techniques and to not give up if the work in progress did not match the initial vision he mentally crafted.

୨୧ being a lover of poetry, hyunjin was a romantic at heart, and so, he never fell short of appreciation and adoration of you. he often found the beauty of you reflected in nature and would always point out and remind you of how precious you were to him. photos of picturesque sunsets, a hand-picked bunch of wild flowers, a miniature keyring of your favourite plushie or an artisanal box of your favourite pastries ー hyunjin would happily present his devotion to you through thoughtful gifts: a song, a poem, a drawing or a whisper of reassurance; all were a proud, sincere declaration of love.

୨୧ loving with hyunjin was as easy as breathing: unconsciously, it took root, blossoming steadily, persevered in unfamiliar conditions and strengthened under the tender touch of patience and gratitude.

‧ ୨୧ ‧ 𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒊𝒏 ‧ ୨୧ ‧

୨୧ the fondest memories of your relationship with seungmin were built on the spontaneous, intimate moments that broke through the walls of fear and insecurities and found an abundance of acceptance and understanding in one another's arms and most importantly, in your hearts.

୨୧ it was an innate awareness that you each developed, you were sensitive to the other person's mood and disposition. on nights like these, where anxiety bubbled unendingly in the depths of your mind and your inner turmoil manifested into unusual silence and emotional withdrawal, seungmin was attuned to even the slightest of your movements, ready to provide you with whatever your heart desired.

୨୧ on this particular evening, seungmin lay with his back facing you, which was to accommodate your expressed wish to have space because you felt suffocated, not by him, but by all the thoughts swirling in your mind. seungmin complied, but his concern overruled his fatigue and he was subconsciously waiting for you to reach out to him.

୨୧ when seungmin felt your side of the bed shift, your hands winding around his waist and your forehand gently burrowing between his should blades, he broke from his drowsy state and regained his composure. silently, he brought his hand to lay above yours, his thumb mindlessly running back and forth across your knuckles, an unspoken affirmation of unwavering support and togetherness.

୨୧ seungmin knows you will signal when you're ready, and though he feels the stiffled sobs that rattle through your frgaile soul and it's accompanying warm tears that seep and seem to sting his heart, he resists the urge to sweep you into his chest. tap tap. you wearily nudge his back with your forehead. the signal releases the air caught in his throat, and he steadfastly turns over, gathering your delicate being into his secure hold.

୨୧ "i'm here, i'll listen." those simple words unravel the knotted worries, they open the floodgates and the bubbling hurt oozes out. seungmin doesn't know nor does he care how long it takes for you to let out all those pent up emotions. he is well aware that while it is a privilege to have found such a pure love, he is also grateful to be a source of comfort and a shelter you seek refuge in.

୨୧ when the exhaustion has consumed you and you've fallen asleep, he takes a tissue to dry your stray tears, the strands of hair that drape across your face in disarray are tucked gently behind your ear, before he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

୨୧ seungmin vows that he'll walk alongside you on whatever path life presents, whether it's cloaked in flowers or the path becomes muddy, and unclear. so long as you're by his side, hand-in-hand, you will walk that road together.

consider reading more: masterlist

© stayfortwominutes ; january 20,2025 | edited: january 21, 2025

author notes: i went with a rather G-rated definition of pillow talk, and tried a new different format! it took me too long to write and post this... please let me know if you enjoyed this. slowly but surely, i want to get back into writing and sharing with everyone.

[gooondocks]

and if your heart wears thin — evan buckley.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: after taking an unfortunate spill on the job, buck's fiancé decides that life is too short to wait any longer.

─── pairing: evan buckley x gn!reader.

─── warnings & notes: angsty angst and then fluffy fluff. near death experience, descriptions of drowning and rescuscitation, brief mention of needles (not graphic), incorrect medical procedure for Plot purposes. no use of y/n. title is from 'beside you' by marianas trench. this starts out with some mild peril but devolves into some of the fluffiest shit i've ever written so. enjoy. not proofread bc i'm lazy.

─── word count: 3.9k.

     YOU SHOULD'VE BEEN EXPECTING IT, is the thing.

     The callout comes about halfway through the shift. Intoxicated male on the boardwalk at Echo Park Lake, bleeding from a head wound, having tripped getting out of one those damn swan boats. Dispatch warns that he’s been hostile and combative to both employees and civilians on scene, and that a police unit has also been sent to assist.

     So really, you should have been expecting it. Aggressive patients aren't exactly rare in your line of work, unfortunately. Hell, this wasn’t even the first confrontational call you attended this week. So you're pretty used to being on your guard on these kinds of calls.

     Except.

     You turned your back for only a second, just to grab something from the medkit. Buck and Eddie are doing their best to coax the patient onto the gurney, gritting their teeth as he hurls slurred curses their way. Hen quietly asks you to grab the pulse oximeter out of the bag, and so you turn, crouching down at the edge of the dock to rummage through the kit.

     You’re not sure what causes it. Why the patient decided to lash out at that exact moment. But there’s a gruff roar behind you and the man flails, edging around Eddie to give you an almighty shove. Crouched like this, your center of gravity suddenly shifts. You lose your balance.

     And then you're in the water.

     Panic floods your body as you breach the surface. It's instinct to gasp for air, except there isn't any; you take in a lungful of the lake instead, sputtering and hacking beneath the water as you try to kick towards daylight.

     It’s deeper than you thought it would be, so close to the shore. You keep kicking and kicking, but your boots never scrape the bottom, nor do you find the surface. It’s cold, too. Colder than you thought possible, in a lake in the middle of Los Angeles. But it’s winter now, you suppose. A grim, chilly February. Most of it has been spent curled up beneath a blanket with Buck, the pair of you ensconced in your cosy apartment.

     The past week has been overcast and windy. And the water is never as warm as the air temperature. Buck laughs every time you run into the surf at the beach, squealing at the sudden, sharp chill of it lapping at your skin.

     How cold can a human body become before it’s dangerous?

     You try to remember, but cold water curls around your limbs like heavy iron shackles, dragging you down. You can’t remember. Buck would know. Buck wouldn’t even have to think about it, he’d just reel off the answer in a heartbeat, and you’d smile proudly and kiss his cheek and insist, once again, that you should do a quiz night at your wedding reception.

     Your lungs are burning. God, your whole body’s just screaming for air, but you can’t find it. There isn’t any. Just endless, depthless water and the occasional wink of sunlight, mocking you from high above, then gone again. Never around long enough for you to find it. Never long enough to save you.

     Instinctively, you suck in another breath. Another barrage of lakewater floods your lungs. Dark spots start speckling across your vision.

     On the dock, Buck is screaming.

     He’d had one hand on the patient’s shoulder, his grip firm but gentle as he helped Eddie guide the guy onto the stretcher. You’d ducked out of sight for a moment, but Buck had been focused on subduing the patient. He tried not to grimace as waves of hot, rancid beer breath crashed over him.

     Then, with a strength that surprised them, the man wrenched out of Buck’s grasp and staggered away from them. Buck doesn’t think he shoved you on purpose, but it didn’t matter; one moment you were suspended, wobbling dangerously close to the edge of the dock, and the next—

     The next, you were gone.

     The patient’s still yelling nonsensically, curses and insults blending together into one unintelligible mess, but all Buck can hear is white noise. He blinks, but you’re still missing. He sees the gurney, the patient, Chimney’s pale face, the ripples spreading over the surface of the lake.

     But no you.

     Terror bolts through him, and without hesitation he’s sprinting to the edge of the dock. No, no, no. Ragged breaths tear out of his lungs as he scans the surface of the water, frantically searching for any sign of you.

     You’re okay, you’re okay, he repeats under his breath, over and over. Any moment now, your head will bob into view, and you’ll shoot him a waterlogged scowl, and he’ll laugh at you doing your best impression of a drowned cat, and everything will be okay.

     But the seconds tick by, one excruciating breath after another. There’s no sign of you.

     Buck shouts your name. A heart-wrenching cry. No, no, no.

     The rest of the team leap into action. Some of them load the patient quickly into the ambulance while Bobby radios for another RA unit. Eddie scrambles to grab the life preserver as Buck tears off his jacket, kicks the heavy boots off his feet. Hen and Chimney prepare their equipment for the worst.

     Please. Please. Buck doesn’t believe in God, but he spares a moment to pray before diving into the lake after you.

     The current catches him off-guard, tugging harshly at his clothes. It rained a lot earlier this week, so the lakes and rivers around Los Angeles are more swollen than usual, but the strength of it sends a spark of fear zipping up his spine. Falling in here, disoriented and panicking…

     He can barely make out your figure through the water’s murky gloom. Kicking hard, he swims down to you, loops strong arms around your waist. Wrapped in Buck’s unrelenting grip, he drags you back to the surface.

     “Eddie!” Buck calls out as he breaks through. Eddie wastes no time in tossing the life preserver towards him, who grabs hold of it with one hand, his other arm coiled tightly around your limp body, trying to keep your head above water.

     Bile rises in his throat as your clammy skin presses against his. You’re so cold. Panic wraps a hand around his throat and squeezes, hard, with every inch he gets closer to shore.

     Eddie and Bobby are quick to pull you both back to the dock, using the life preserver as a tow line. Hauling you out of the water, Buck lowers you gently to the ground. Your head rolls limply sideways, your face unnaturally pale, lips tinged blue from lack of oxygen.

     “They’re not breathing,” Hen murmurs worriedly. She sets the pulse ox on your finger while Chimney tries a sternal rub. You don’t flinch. “Respiratory arrest. Starting CPR.”

     Buck hovers at the edge of things. His chest is tight like a vise, steadily squeezing all the air of his lungs and replacing it with cold, slippery dread. He watches Hen and Chimney work over you, counts the reps in his head alongside them.

     He can’t tear his focus from your hands. They’re so still. Like a doll.

     Or a corpse.

     Please. You can’t leave him. You can’t. He hasn’t had enough time. You’re supposed to be getting married. Walk down the aisle together, spend a lifetime together. You were talking about getting a dog just last night. Planned a trip to the shelter for your next Saturday off. You were going to ask Chris to come with.

     And between one breath and the next, all of that could just be… gone.

     “Buck.” Eddie clasps a hand on Buck’s shoulder, wrapping a blanket around him to stave off the chill. Oh. He’s shivering, hands quivering at his sides, soaked clothes clinging to his skin. The blanket is tiny compared to Buck’s broad frame, but it’s something, at least. “Buck, breathe.”

    On the ground, Hen keeps administering rescue breaths. Every few seconds, she'll pause to check your response, but you remain frighteningly still every time.

     Buck can’t breathe until you do. He can’t.

     He feels so hyper-aware of everything around, the onslaught hitting all at once. The crowd of nosy onlookers gathered at the end of the dock, held back by frazzled park employees and a few other members of the 118. The wind ghosting over his skin, chilled gusts that ruffle his damp curls and creep beneath the blanket seeking wet skin to freeze.

     But most all, you. Always you. He can’t look away.

     Eddie’s hand on his shoulder feels like a tether, not quite breaking him from his thoughts completely but keeping him from falling over the edge of the precipice.

     “Buck, breathe.”

     His whole body shudders as does, finally, sucking a ragged breath into screaming lungs. His vision blurs just slightly. He blinks to clear it.

     You’ll make it. He cannot allow himself to think the worst. He won’t give up on you, won’t acknowledge the dark thoughts creeping in from the corners of his mind. You’ll make it. You have to.

     "Come on, kid," Chimney whispers as Hen administers another round of rescue breaths. "Come on, kid, you've got this—"

     And then between one second and the next, your whole body jolts, and you're vomiting out lungfuls of water. Hen rolls you onto your side, rubbing a soothing palm along your back as you wretch onto the ground.

     "That's it, baby, get it all out," she murmurs. You're gasping and hacking and sputtering lakewater all over the place, still not quite conscious, lips still a little blue and face still startlingly pale, but at least you're breathing.

     A wave of relief crashes over Buck and it almost takes him out at the knees. His heart’s still racing dangerously in his chest, trying to break past his ribs to reach you, and his hands still shake, but you’re breathing again.

     You’re breathing.

     He sways a little as his legs go weak. Buck feels lightheaded just witnessing you expel all that water, and sudden nausea grips his stomach in a vice. But he fights through it, unwilling to take his eyes off you for even a moment, even as his vision begins to blur again.

     Tears gather along his lash line, threatening to fall. He remains silent, not trusting that he won’t dissolve into tears the moment he opens his mouth.

     You’re still gagging, heaving onto the deck, but at least there’s no more water.

     He’s itching to reach out, touch you, feel your pulse flutter beneath his fingers to prove he’s not hallucinating. His hand twitches just slightly, like he almost does, but he feels rooted to the ground.

     Body wracked with violent tremors, you start to relax back onto the ground, limbs limp and leaden, throat and lungs burning like wildfire from the water you expelled. Your breath hitches every few seconds, still shallow and slow, so Hen fixes an oxygen mask to your face as Chimney mutters something about getting you to a hospital just as the second ambulance arrives on scene.

     You don't hear any of that. Blinking once, twice, the light is bright enough to make you squint as your mind swims hazily between waking and unconsciousness. Your head is pounding. You feel like you got hit by a goddamn truck. A pained moan whines out of you as you squeeze your eyes closed again to block out the weak, grey daylight.

     Buck bites his lip bloody as he watches you drift, your eyelids fluttering and your slow, stuttering breaths. His eyes are fixed on the oxygen mask. With every exhale, it turns foggy with condensation, and another knot of worry in his chest starts to loosen, but it’s not enough to put him at ease. Not yet.

     He’ll calm down only once you’ve been checked over at the hospital. Preferably with a second (or third) opinion, just in case.

     “Buck.” Eddie’s grip on his shoulder tightens momentarily as he nudges Buck gently forward. “They need you.”

     On the ground, you're only semi-conscious, still not fully aware of your surroundings. But you feel like you're looking for someone. Like there's someone missing, and you reach out blindly with one cold, trembling hand.

     Buck’s own fingers flex in response, but his legs still feel too heavy. He looks to Eddie, who nods at him, before Buck allows himself to be pushed towards you.

     Eddie’s right. You need him.

     Stumbling forward, he drops down to his knees, a dull thud echoing up from the wood that nearly makes him wince. He edges closer, eyes flicking all over your face, taking in your gaunt, washed out features, that cyan tint to your lips, the way you’re reaching out to him.

     Slowly, so slowly, he hesitantly takes your hand in his, curling careful fingers around yours. He squeezes tightly, and then it’s like he’s afraid someone will steal you away from him, because his grip turns almost tight enough to bruise.

     “I’m here, baby.”

     The hand encircling yours is warm and huge and comfortingly familiar, and when his voice drifts over you, something in your mind flickers with recognition. Your eyes flutter as you search for him, ignoring the way the light feels like skewers in your brain. "Buck?" Muffled by the oxygen mask, your voice is barely more than a whisper, throat rubbed raw from expelling the water.

     "Let's get her on a gurney." Hen is all business, but there's a soft, relieved smile on her face. "We'll start an IV of warm fluids in the ambulance to bring your body temp up. You weren’t down for too long, but I want to get you checked by a doctor soon in case there's any neurological issues."

     She’s addressing you, but it’s Buck who’s listening, taking in what she’s saying. He squeezes your hand again, trying to be a tether to consciousness as you weakly nod. He watches as your eyes search for him again.

     “You’re okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs softly, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

     It’s more to reassure himself than anything.

     They're quick to transfer you to a gurney, and soon you're being wheeled towards the ambulance. Buck's hand in yours is a comforting anchor to reality, even as your whole body aches with pain.

     "Cold," you mutter once the doors have closed. Chimney's driving. Buck's in the back with you and Hen. You wouldn't have let go of his hand if they'd even tried to separate you, but they didn’t.

     Buck watches over you like he’s scared you’ll stop breathing if looks away. The lines of his fave are still creased with worry, but his thumb is soft, tracing soothing, mindless circles over your skin.

     When you speak his head snaps up slightly, eyes immediately locking with yours as you call out for him, murmuring in a raspy voice that you’re cold.

     “I know, it’s okay. Here, let me.” Hen wordlessly passes him a heated blanket and he’s gentle as he strips you of your wet shirt. Expertly avoiding the leads and tubes attached to your body, he tucks it around you, still holding your hand all the while.

     "Mm." You make a small, pleased noise as the blanket's warmth envelops you. It barely registers when Hen reaches across to take your other hand, wincing a little as she inserts a cannula to start you on an IV of warm fluids.

     "ER is ten minutes out," she murmurs quietly, and settles back to monitor your vital signs, offering you and Buck a little privacy.

     You're still shivering beneath the blanket, even as the warmth of it starts seeping into your bones, but that's more of an aftereffect of drowning than actual cold. You squeeze your fiancé's hand as hard as you can. "Buck?"

     “Right here, baby,” he murmurs softly, squeezing right back. His free hand moves to your head, fingers gently running through your damp, tangled hair.

     "Wanna marry you."

     The words that spill out of you are little more than a mumble, your eyes still closed, face still hidden beneath the oxygen mask. Soaked strands of hair drip murky lake water onto the floor.

     Buck is already your fiancé. You're already engaged. But there's an urgency settling in your gut, twisting up your insides in the worst way.

     You want— no, need to marry him.

     As soon as possible.

     It takes a few seconds to understand what you said, but when the words finally register, it feels like they’ve grown talons that tear right into his chest. The urgency in your tone makes his eyes still, and his heart starts to race all over again, threatening to beat right out of his chest so it can live next to yours.

     Eyes softening, he moves his hand from your hair to rest his index finger under your chin, gently tracing his thumb over your lip.

     “Marry me, huh?” he mumbles softly. You’d never be able to tell that on the inside, his brain is screaming gleefully that he’d marry you right now if Hen were ordained.

     He taps your nose over the oxygen mask, and if you were a little more awake (and not encumbered by the oxygen mask), you’d nip at his finger, a playful smile toying at your lips.

     Instead, you make the cutest grumbling sound he’s ever heard. "Mm. Now.” Your engagement ring is tucked safely in your locker back at the station, replaced on shift by a black silicone band that won't get damaged on a call.

     You squeeze his hand again, tugging insistently on it. Blinking against the harsh light of the ambulance, your gaze finds his, eyes still foggy and unfocused. “Marry me.”

     If another day passes before you’re married to this man, you may actually lose your mind.

     Butterflies swirl around Buck’s stomach, a far cry from nausea that rolled through him not that long ago. The small smile on your lips and the way you’re tugging on his hand make him feel all warm and gooey.

     He laughs softly at you, tapping his finger against your nose again. “Right now? We’re gonna get married right now? With you in the hospital?” He’s got no hope of masking the amusement in his tone. He wants to marry you yesterday. His eyes sparkle as he looks down at you with a quirked brow.

     You nod a little, trying not to wince as that sets off the pounding in your head. God, you pity those who get regular migraines. This is torture, and you only suffered a little oxygen deprivation!

     But Buck is smiling.

     He’s smiling and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You thought you'd never see it again. You want to see that smile every moment for the rest of your life

     "Mm-hm," you mumble, leaning into his touch. "Eddie can be flower girl. Wedding night in a hospital room. Scandalise the nurses."

     You're not sure how much of that was coherent, but you hear Hen snort, so you figure it was mostly audible.

     Buck’s grin broadens at your suggestion, but he bites his tongue to stifle the laugh bubbling in his chest. “Scandalise the nurses, huh.” He glances at Hen out of the corner of his eye, catching her trying to smother a similar smile.

     You huff at him, as if he’s being particularly difficult. As if you didn’t almost die twenty minutes ago. As if there aren’t more important things to focus on than the elopement you’ve suddenly decided you need.

     Besides. They’re nurses. You’re pretty sure they’ve seen worse.

     “Sucked your dick in the broom closet at work,” you mutter, your eyes falling closed again as warmth and safety wrap you up like a swaddled baby. “We’re pretty scandalous, baby.”

     Hen is barely able to muffle her squawk in time, hand clapped over her mouth, and you can't help but smile at the bright sound of it. You're sleepy, and you've got no filter, but at least everyone else gets to enjoy it.

     Buck, meanwhile, almost chokes on his own saliva. Eyes wide, jaw slack, a rosy flush creeps up his neck. It’s Hen’s reaction that makes him laugh, though, and he finally lets it out, quiet but affectionate as it tumbles from his lips.

     He shakes his head a little as he looks back down at you. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” His thumb keeps tracing lightly over the back of your hand, and the expression on his face is impossibly soft, his heart still racing in his chest.

     "Eddie in a pretty pink flower girl dress," you mumble, nonsensical images flitting through your mind of your friend drowning in tulle. You sigh. "You'd still be prettier. Just wanna marry you."

     The way he’s looking at you makes you feel warmer than any blanket. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud instead of stretched out on a gurney in the back of an ambulance.

     You want nothing more than to curl up in his arms right now, at home in your bed. This situation is certainly not ideal.

     "Bet we could get Eddie to wear a dress." More sleepy grumbles. You try to roll over, shuffle closer to your fiancé, but annoyingly, your body feels far too heavy to cooperate. "Play the I nearly drowned card. That would work. Bobby can officiate. Hen gets the cake. Can't wait another day."

     Buck snorts at the idea of Eddie in a dress, but his heart feels so full it’s like his body can barely contain it. The urge to wrap you up in his arms, to hold you close and never let go, hits him like a baseball bat to the head.

     “We gotta wait until you’re able to talk without being a smartass,” he says teasingly, tapping your nose again.

     You whine, frowning like a grumpy, tired child. “Then we’ll never get married.”

     Truly, if you have to wait for until the day you stop being a smartass, the world might end first.

     You look over at Hen through sleepy, puppy dog eyes. "Back me up here, Hen." You're so drowsy, exhaustion pulling you into its delicious embrace, but you’re pretty sure you'll remember all of this when you wake up.

     Hen certainly will, at least.

     A slow, sly smile creeps onto her face. Buck feels distinctly like he’s being ganged up on. For once, he really doesn’t mind.

     "Well, we as a firehouse are well-known for our impromptu party planning..." Hen recalls her vow renewal, and Chimney's wedding to Maddie, and every back-to-work celebration she ever organised. They are pretty damn good at this. "As long as the doctors clear you, I don't see why we can't plan a shotgun wedding in your hospital room."

     A triumphant, extremely sleepy grin spreads across your face, and you look back at Buck. "So marry me, hotshot."

     He huffs a melodramatic sigh, as if this is the world’s biggest inconvenience for him, but he cannot hide the way his ears turn pink, the way his whole body lights up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.

     “A shotgun hospital wedding it is,” he says, bright with glee as he lifts your hand to his mouth, brushing a sweet kiss to your knuckles.

     With that settled, contentment curls up beneath your ribs like a cat in a patch of sunlight, and you doze off into a dreamless sleep, feeling like the luckiest person alive.

[leascorner]

j.b.b. | Fake it ‘till you make it

Summary: Y/N’s ex-boyfriend will be at the Christmas party she will be attending. Bucky poses as Y/N’s +1.

Pairing:  Modern!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N and feminine pronoums, a few mentions of food and alcohol, mention of cheating and ghosting people and breaking Y/N's heart, mention of christmas and the dear corporate world, loads of mention of anxiety/stress, some vulgar language

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This is the 3rd Xmas OS of the series. It was a bit thougher to write than I imagined, but I'm quite happy out it turned out. Please do share and like if you enjoyed it, it means a lot!

2024 Christmas Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Y/N’s hands were so sweaty that she had to wipe them on her black coat every five minutes. The air in the car was warm and cosy, a sharp contrast with the cold and dry weather outside. If it should have relaxed her, it wasn’t enough. Instead, she couldn’t stop her right leg from shaking and her heart was beating so fast that it made her blood ring in her ears. She couldn’t believe that even after all this time he was making her this nervous.

Though, it wasn’t him exactly; it was this whole situation…

The he in question was her ex. An ex that, one night, had decided to throw away a four-year-long relationship with a note left on the kitchen counter of their shared apartment. An apartment from which he had planned to move out without facing her. Too bad for him, that same night, Y/N had gotten back from work earlier than expected and had, of course, walked in on him moving out. In the end, she had been the one to kick him out. Nevertheless, the shock had been real when, one week later, Natasha, her dear friend, had seen him at the supermarket, hands in hands with some other woman.

He had broken her entirely: her heart, her trust in this world, her self-esteem and probably everything else. More than one year later, she was still fixing what he had done to her. So naturally, when she heard that he was going to attend the Christmas party of the firm she was working at, she did the only thing she thought she was capable of… She decided not to go.

That was without counting on Natasha, who was determined not to let this slip that easily. He was the bastard that broke her friend. He would be the one daring to attend the Christmas party of the firm his ex was working on for more than six years now. He was only a small accountant from the accounting company to which finance had started to outsource their activities a couple of weeks ago. He was insignificant, while Y/N was expected to take on the role of head of her department after the retirement of her manager. Y/N couldn’t simply decide to not attend. She was going to be there and showing how much better she was doing without him.

Thanks heaven, she wasn’t going to do this alone. When Natasha had succeeding in convincing her to go to this party, Y/N had admitted she didn't feel like going alone. Sure, there would be her coworkers – she had become good friends with a few of them and all were aware of her romantic situation ship (or lack of, therefore). However, between Gina and her three kids, Maria on maternity leave, and Zach who she knew was going to hit on every waiter present, she needed more support. Y/N had made puppy eyes to Natasha, trying to get her to come with her. A look in her agenda later, the redhead had declared with a huge smile on her lips that she would be in Europe that week, closing the most important deal of the year for her own company. That was how Bucky had offered to be her “+1” for the night.

Ever since, Natasha had made up this fantasy of Bucky posing as Y/N’s fiancé for the night. She wanted Y/N’s ex to know Y/N was doing better, much better indeed, now that he wasn’t in her life anymore. At first, Y/N had embraced this idea, it was only payback for the way he had embarrassed her. However, thinking about it again, it definitely didn’t feel like such a good idea. How pathetic was she to try and make him jealous when the simple thought of him should make her indifferent…

Y/N had gotten cold feet a million times. If it wasn’t for Bucky insisting to call a cab to pick them both up and then have it drive them to the party, she would have spent her Friday evening ordering pizza and watching Netflix or if she would have had the courage to get out in the cold, testing this new winery bar that opened downtown to drink away her sorrow.

Even now, on her way to the party, she was only a second away to ask for the car to turn around and go back home. It would be a shame with all the money she had put in her outfits, make-up and hair, and with how Bucky had dressed up too, but she could still pretend to be not feeling well or be sick, no?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed that the car had stopped, and her door was already opening. A wave of panic washed over her.

She did not want to be here.

She wanted to be anywhere, but here.

“Hey,” Bucky spoke, and she was surprised to see that he was the one to have open the door car. She had not realized Bucky had already gotten out and was offering her his hand to help her get out as well. “Just like we said,” he searched for her eyes as he took a deep inspiration. Eyes lost in the blue of his eyes; she copied him instinctively. It was just one night; she reminded herself to try to ease her nerves. As did Bucky, she breathed out. “It’s going to be okay,” he promised. She nodded weakly, still hooked to his eyes as if they were buoys.

They continued to breathe together for the time she needed to successfully calm herself and her heartbeat. When she was ready, she grabbed her handbag and took his hand. She couldn’t help but notice how her heart fluttered in her chest and how her cheeks heated up when their skin touched, but she quickly pushed the thought aside.

This was how Bucky was, not only with her, but with everyone. He was very well mannered and always nice; opening the door, pulling out the chair for the person he was with to sit down, offering his coat or jacket were anyone too cold. One smile and everyone would fall for him. Y/N couldn’t lie, Bucky was also very good looking. Tall, but not too tall. Definitely muscly under his button-up shirts. Flashing bright smiles. Piercing blue eyes.

Y/N had met him through Natasha. At that time, she had just moved to New York, and they worked at the same company. Natasha had introduced her to her group of friends; people she had been to university with: Wanda, Clint, Sam, Steve, and Bucky – and she was quick to be a part of the group.

While they had always been in the same group of friends, they had never been particularly close. Bucky being Bucky, he was always eager to know what was going on in her life, always interested in discussing about her hobbies, but they had never hanged out outside of their little group gatherings.

Y/N only really acknowledged him after her break-up. It was as if she had worn blinders for all those years. Suddenly, she realized he had been there all along. He continued being nice to her and much more than that. He became a really good friend, showing up at her place with ice-cream so she could cry her heart out. He listened and dried her tears. More than anything else, he made her feel important.

Like he really cared.

And in this past year, it had been everything to her.

As they walked into the building where the party was happening, Bucky spoke to her about the plans Steve and him had over the weekend. He spoke to her as if they were only going to the supermarket do groceries on a Tuesday night. She realized what he was doing – he was trying to clear her mind – and she was grateful for it. It did stop the easiness in her stomach and thankfully, the cold of the night made her hands dry.

In the hall, Bucky took her coat to leave it in the cloakroom. It was the exact same moment her phone decided to ring.

Natasha, less than one minute ago: Don’t forget to send me a picture of the two of you.

Natasha, less than one minute ago: And have fun!

Smiling, Y/N send her a quick answer, a mix of ‘yes mom’ with a rolling eyes emoji and ‘have a good day’ wherever she was – Natasha’s schedule was so hectic it was a bit difficult to follow sometimes; she could have been in London in the morning and Moscow at night.

Y/N put her phone back in her handbag as Bucky walked back to her. With a motion of his hand, he invited her to lead the way and enter in the reception room. His right hand rested in between her shoulder blades that her backless dress left naked. His palm was barely touching her skin, yet the touch of his fingertips grounded her, made her focus on him rather than what was happening around them.

“Y/N!” Gina called out as soon as they entered the room. She left her husband with her boss and nearly came running in their direction.

To Y/N’s disappointment, Bucky’s hand left her back as he let her go to greet her colleague. Gina didn’t lose time to hug Y/N as if the last time they had seen each other was not in the HR meeting that same morning. From the empty glass in her hands, Y/N assumed she had already started to celebrate the end of the year. Gina had never been one to handle alcohol well.

“Bucky, right?” Gina questioned as she turned to her left, to him.

“And you must be Gina.” Bucky stated in return. Gina giggled like a middle school girl – that was typically Bucky’s effect and even if Y/N knew him for a good decade now, it still amazed her. Gina went for a hug and Bucky happily obliged, barely touching her though.

“Hot,” Gina mouthed not so silently to Y/N, who was standing behind them.

Y/N only gave her a stern look and watched as Gina took her sweet time to let him go. If she had thought for a long time already that she would never let Natasha and Gina meet, she knew now that she was indeed right. The two of them in the same room would be the death of her.

Thankfully, someone going up on the stage in front of the dance floor was enough to put poor Bucky out of his misery. The CEO of the firm was about to give his traditional end-of-year speech, and everyone was invited to listen. Gina’s husband was quick to get her to join the crowd who was quickly gathering around the stage.

Y/N turned to Bucky who still wore his typical soft smile and acting as if the interaction with Gina had never happened. Maybe it happened to him more often than Y/N would know. “She is… something. I’m sorry.”

Bucky chuckled to wave it off and only offered her his arm, “Shall we?”

As they stand next to each other, in the crowd of the firm employees in front of the stage, Y/N only listened to the speech with one ear. She couldn’t help watching around the room. She saw the faces of all the persons in the crowd, some she had never seen before and a few familiar ones. Somewhere in the crowd, her eyes met with Zach who raised his glass to her, and she nodded in return to acknowledge him; considering who he was with, she knew she was most likely not going to see him again tonight. Thankfully, she didn’t see her ex and release a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

When her eyes turned to Bucky, he was already looking at her. For the first time, she saw a very subtle frown on his face. He was worried about her. Even if he had agreed to it – and he did so willingly, she felt bad for having him spend the night with her, attending a Christmas party where he knew nobody even more so. The company he was working at must also have its own Christmas party and everybody knew that one company Christmas party a year was much than enough. She wanted him to have a good time, not remembering this night in a bad way. So, she needed to relax.

She was so lost in her thoughts that Bucky had to nudge her in the ribs so she would applause at the end of the speech.

“Do you want a drink?” Y/N said more for herself than Bucky at her side. Without waiting for him to answer, she continued: “I’ll get us some drinks.”

And just like that, she had left him on the spot and was walking in direction of the bar. One second later, she was turning back and walking to where Bucky was still standing. He looked at her, surprised.

“Thank you so much.”

Bucky smiled, sweetly. That was probably what she liked the most about him, he knew exactly was she was on about. “Doll, pleasure is all mine.”

Doll… Bucky wouldn’t stop calling her by all those sweet nicknames ever since the break-up. It somehow made her stomach fluttered. She wished he was only using those with her, but she knew with how he was, he did it with everyone else.

“No, really,” she insisted. “You didn’t have to do it.” Bucky was going to answer something when she cut him off. “You must think I am pathetic to do this. I swear, I do not have any feeling for him anymore. I just don’t want him to think he won. He can’t be the one to have thrown away a four-years-long relationship and be the one to walk away happy. Not after all he put me through.”

Slowly, Bucky took her chin into his right hand, his eyes meeting hers again. She had not noticed, but they were yet again so close to one another.

“Love, we are going a hell of a time tonight. Screw him. You are much better without him. You would have to be blind not to see it.”

And what a time they were going to have indeed…

After a couple of drinks, Y/N was much comfortable about being here that night. Bucky had somehow managed to get them a full tray of appetizers for them both to share as their dinner. They had been joined by Zach afterwards, who against all odds spent a part of his evening with them. They shared some shots of vodka, took a dozen of silly pictures at the photobooth that was set up, and once the DJ had started to play actual music, they had been quick to join the dance floor. In the crowd of employees, Bucky had made Y/N spun around herself more times than she could count. His hands had been on herself at all times – on her hips, on her arms, on her back, definitely leaving Y/N aching for more.

“I need to take a break.” Y/N announced after a while as she started to walk away from the dance floor. Zach was too busy with some other man to care about her and Bucky was quick to follow her.

“You good?” he asked. As the music was too loud, Y/N only saw his lips moving without hearing what he had said. Bucky stepped closer and had his lips close to her ear to repeat her question.

“Yes,” she nodded, moving her hands in front of herself as a fan to have some air. She had this hotness on her cheeks and nose; her backless dress was now clenched to her features. At this point, she didn’t know anymore if it was from all the dancing or from him being so close to him. She was hot, needed some air and probably also a drink. “I’m thirsty. Do you want something?”

Bucky had to lean in again onto her to let her know what he wanted to drink. Y/N gave him a thumbs-up before walking to the bar. She was wearing a big smile on her lips and was feeling absolutely content. As she walked away from the dance floor, she thought this night couldn’t have gone better… except her feet in those heels and she would have to drink water at some point if she didn’t wish to wake up with a massive headache… And that, as if destiny was playing with her, her eyes landed on the only person that could spoil her night.

Y/N’s smile faded when she was her ex, waiting for his drink at the bar, hand pianoing on the wood of the counter, eyes scanning the room. Bucky’s presence had finally made her totally forget what she had asked him to come for in the first place.

Sighing, she decided she wasn’t going to turn back now. She didn’t have to talk to him, let alone have to look at him. She went to the bar side on her left, at the very opposite of him. Focusing on the barmaid that smiled when she stood against the bar, she repeated Bucky’s whisky order and ordered a soft drink for her. She was about to get back to Bucky with their drinks when a shadow overed on her.

“Y/N, how nice to see you,” his snide voice called her out.

Her two drinks in her hand, she turned to look at him with a stern sight. Still the same charming smile. The same malicious eyes. That same dimple. It had made her heart flattered in the past, though now it only made her want to vomit.

“It has been a long time, how have you been?”

“I am awaited,” was all she answered. Her tone was not rude – though she would have very much like to throw her glass to his face; it was only very firm to pass on the idea that she did not want to talk to him. At all.

“Oh, so you’ve been able to coax someone to come with you?” he said, grabbing on her elbow to keep her from moving away from him.

“Her boyfriend, actually.”

Bucky appeared at her side, out of nowhere. The surprise made him drop his hold on her, making Y/N lose her balance. Thankfully, Bucky firm hand found the exposed skin of her lower back in a second and she gently crashed onto his side.

Unsure of what to do, Y/N looked back at Bucky, who was now getting his drink out of her hands.

“Thank you, doll.”

He smiled at her, and she smiled back, loosing herself in his blue eyes, totally forgetting the room around her and the fact that her ex was right in front of them. The physical contact of his skin on hers was started to make her head fizzy. Or was it the multiples drinks of Champagne finally making it to her head?

“Nice to have seen you again, buddy.”

And without waiting for an answer, Bucky brought Y/N with him to a cocktail table, not so far from the dance floor, but a little bit calmer where they could talk. A couple of steps away from her ex, when he knew they weren’t within earshot, he leaned on Y/N to mutter:

“See, wasn’t that bad.”

Y/N smiled weakly and took down the glass of orange juice she had ordered in one go, now wishing she had ordered vodka with it. Her heart in her chest was pounding and she felt his eyes on her back; he was watching them. All her energy seemed to have left her body. Their encounter had been like a wake-up call, and she didn’t want to be here any longer.

Yet, she didn’t want to be the first one to leave, she didn’t want to let him win. So, she tried to calm herself and she stayed at the limit of the dance floor, watching her colleagues dancing the night away before her eyes. Bucky stayed at her side. He did not say a word, probably because he had understood she did not want to talk.

It was only when the DJ played a slow dancing song that Y/N seemed to wake up from her trance and turned to him.

“Would you dance with me?”

Bucky didn’t need much persuading and was quick to grab Y/N’s hand to lead her to the dance floor. He found them an empty space, where he had her turned to him. His hands immediately found a place on her naked back, sending shivers down her spine, and her hands found their way to the back of his neck.

They moved slowly, body pressed against one another. Y/N let her head fall on his chest while he slowly stoked the skin of her back. Her belly tingled in such a strong way that she finally had the courage to look at him in the eyes. When their eyes met, he was already looking at her, a small smile on his lips that inadvertently draw Y/N’s eyes. His lips were so close, so reachable, that she was tempted to just lean in and see what would happen. The fire in her stomach wanted her to do it. After all, she had already lost so many things this year, nothing worse could happen, right?

She bit her own lips and tried to come back to earth. Bucky was a good friend and if it meant losing him, she didn’t want to risk it. He was too precious to ruin everything, even if she wanted him more than anything.

“What would you say of getting out of here?” Bucky asked when the song finished. Even though the next song was not slow-rhythmed, they had stayed in the same position. Body pressed together, moving slowly.

“Yes, please.”

Yet, none of them moved.

They kept eyeing each other, Y/N’s gaze going from his eyes to his lips and back again. Finally, Bucky made a move. Her breath got caught in her throat when Bucky’s hand took a loose string of her hair and put it behind her ear. The air seemed to have thickened and the time to have paused.

His hand hot on her cheek, he leaned in slowly.

“Please,” she begged him to put her out of her misery.

He chuckled deeply and leaned him more, their lips barely touching. Y/N didn’t waste a second more and brought him closer, crashing their lips a bit too brutally together that they could hear their teeth crashing together. Y/N withdrawn, eyes wide, worried she had hurt him.

“I’m so sor-” Bucky was quick to kiss her again, this time much gently. A second first kiss that they would remember. One of those kisses that would electrify their whole body. One of those kisses that would leave their lips swollen and them asking for more.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Once again, Y/N let Bucky grab her hand and lead her to the cloakroom. He asked for their coats with the ticket he had kept in his wallet as Y/N stood her back against the wooden counter, trying to realize what was going on. She was going to go home, with him of all people.

“Well, that was one hell of a show out there,” Zach whispered as he stood next to her. He too was waiting in line to get his coat and go home with the person at his side, a man from the Californian office she had seen twice in her life. “Couldn’t figure out if you were faking it or not.”

Y/N turned to Bucky at her side, whose hand was still holding her hip, as if he was scared, she would slip away. Then, she turned back to Zach, a big smile on her face.

“Definitely not fake.”

[gtgbabie0]

Cregan Stark x Reader

Synopsis: {You learn that your husband is a very affectionate drunk}

I’m so back… Enjoy my lovelies! 💕

Northern men know how to drink, it’s something you learned from first-hand experience on the night of your wedding. How the lords and ladies danced and drank together throughout the night, slurring their words and spilling their ale.

Today was no different, a celebration for your husband's name day that has been going on since the sun had started to rise. You couldn’t complain about it, it was nice to see Cregan not overwhelmed with his duties.

The dining hall is dimly lit with candles that are littered everywhere, the white wax melts in clumps on the wooden tables that are stained with ale and wine. You notice how much calmer the atmosphere seems to be, now that the evening has approached, as you lean back into your chair.

Most of the guests had taken their leave by now and only a few Lords and Ladies remain, and even their faces were visibly exhausted. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you glance over to Cregan, who is already looking at you with soft, glossed-over eyes.

“You look beautiful” he whispers, his words are slurred from his drunken state, but they still carry so much honesty and love that it melts you.

The smile that teeters on your lips is uncontrollable and it only makes Cregan admire you even more. He leans back in his chair whilst he drinks the sight of you in with hungry eyes.

You rest your hand over Cregans as he squeezes your thigh gently. “Have you had a good day?” You ask as he nods his head, his big hand caressing your thigh lazily.

“The best… thanks to you my lady” he says with a soft chuckle at the way you give him an almost shy smile. He can’t help but adore everything about you… you’re beyond perfect, 'a gift from the gods' as Cregan always says.

“I’m glad, though, perhaps it is time to call it a day now?” You tell him as you take his calloused hand within yours. He hums in agreement as his thumb soothes against your palm.

Getting him back to your shared bedchambers was a very humorous challenge. You were practically dragging him along as he leaned onto you for support, his hands soothing against your hips and waist whilst you guided him through the cold halls of the Winterfell castle.

The fireplace warms your bedchambers, bathing the cosy room in a soft light, as it crackles and pops. Cregan watches you take off your jewellery before changing into your nightgown with a soft smirk, his eyes gleaming with fondness.

“Gods, look at you… an absolute goddess” he says, his raspy voice just above a whisper. He wastes no time in approaching you clumsily, his hands grasping needly on your body as he tugs you closer to him.

The giggle that escapes you leaves Cregan breathless and it certainly doesn’t help when your fingers begin to brush through his hair as you stand between his legs. He looks up at you with a smile as you cup his face gently… he simply can not get enough of you.

“You should sleep,” you tell him softly knowing how awful his morning fog will be. He shakes his head softly as he rests against your stomach, his hand still grasping at your hips.

“Not before I thank you properly… my queen” His tone is teasing as he lets out a soft chuckle at the way you gasp.

“Shh… your words are dangerously close to treason” you whisper softly as your hand moves to clasp over his mouth, you look down at him with an almost shy smile.

"My words will only be treason if someone hears them... and we are alone." He pulls your hand away from his mouth, his fingers caressing your wrist. The way you look when he praises you makes him crazy. Your eyes, your smile, you are beautiful.

He hugs you close, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "But you are my queen. You rule over my heart. No one could ever take that place from you."

The honesty and love that are woven within his each and every word takes you back, your expression softens and your eyes start to well up with tears. It’s an overwhelming feeling that warms your chest and makes your skin tingle.

You take a seat on the bed beside him with a soft sigh. His thumb wipes away your tears as he presses another kiss to your cheek. “Don’t cry… you’re far too pretty for that” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours.

A bright smile teeters on his lips at the sound of your precious laughter, he brushes your hair behind your ears before pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“I love you, Cregan.” The words feel so natural and he absolutely relishes in the way you say it. He buries his face into the crook of your neck with a boyish smile.

“I love you too… my queen” he replies, his tone heavy with exhaustion as the alcohol starts to weigh on him however that doesn’t stop him from pressing lazy kisses all over your face, his hands soothing against your hips and waist whilst he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

Cregan will soon find sleep, with his arms wrapped around you and his face buried into your neck. You’ll have to tease him tomorrow about how much of an affectionate drunk he is.

[pastryfication]

winter wonderland

pairing: kimi antonelli x leclerc!reader

note: i’m not really satisfied with this but it’s cosy and christmassy so we ball 🙂‍↕️

part one of my advent celebration

december had a way of coming creeping just at the right time. it brought a lightness to everything, spreading a nice warm feeling across everything as it rolled around with its christmas cheer and holiday cosiness.

to celebrate christmas that year, your family had rented out a cabin at your favourite ski resort, nestled in the heart of the french alps. it was a tradition you had kept up for a long time, but for the first time, the friend you brought wasn’t just a friend. he was someone much more special.

the small chalet style cabin your brother had arranged for your group was the perfect charming blend of rustic elegance and winter magic. it was made of dark wood with steep, snow-covered roofs adorned with twinkling fairy lights that cast a warm glow as the night settled in. snow piled neatly on the nearby balconies, where wreaths and red ribbons hung along the edges, adding festive touches to the scene.

you and kimi had gotten your own room—much to arthur’s dismay—and it was as magical as the rest of the house. until then, you had enjoyed your evenings together, cuddled in the warm, cozy bed, but as it was your boyfriend’s last night with you before he flew home to spend the holidays with his family, you had decided to go explore a small village located just outside the boarder of the resort.

you were walking along a small road close to the middle of the town. the square was alive with the cheerful hum of holiday spirit, and market stalls lined the cobblestone paths, selling everything from hand-knit scarves to spiced cider and roasted chestnuts. a large christmas tree stood proudly at the center, its branches decorated with delicate glass ornaments and shimmering tinsel, while the soft notes of a carol floated through the air from a street performer’s violin.

beyond the village, you could see the ski runs snake down the mountainside, illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. skiers and snowboarders still dotted the slopes, gliding gracefully down the white mountainside. the peaks of the surrounding alps, capped with snow, rose majestically against the sky shifting from pale blue to the soft lavender of twilight.

it was getting late, and your mum had already sent a message to let you know that you had to be home soon, but everything about the moment was so absolutely perfect, and you didn’t want to break it just yet.

the snow crunched delicately under your boots as you took another step through the magic winter wonderland of the small village. the street performer had changed to a christmas love song, the soft tones creating the perfect backdrop to your walk.

despite the thick, fluffy gloves you both were wearing, kimi’s hand felt warm in yours. every so often, he’d squeeze it a little tighter, a silent signal that made you glance up. his eyes always met yours with that familiar, loving sparkle, sometimes followed by a quick kiss on the tip of your cold nose.

he adored the way you looked all bundled up in your thick coat, scarf and woollen hat with a frosty blush covering your cheeks. it made him all giddy on the inside and he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger as a goofy smile took over his face. it made your heart skip; it was rare to see him this relaxed, away from the newfound pressure of the track and cameras.

“i wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered as you passed a stall selling handmade ornaments. kimi’s fingers squeezed yours again, and when you looked up, he had that smile—the one that made your heart flutter.

“me too,” he said, his voice low and earnest, before he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

you looked at him, puzzled. he turned to you fully and whispered your name, his breath visible in the cold air. “i love you.”

your smile widened, a new blush spreading across your cheeks—this time not from the chill. “i love you more.”

“not possible,” he immediately remarked back, not giving you a chance to protest. even if you hadn’t been able to see his face, you would still have been able to hear the smile in his voice.

you smiled right back up at him, but before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. it was short and sweet, both of you smiling into the kiss, and when you pulled apart, giggles filled the air between you.

“we should probably head back,” you said, the reluctance clear in your voice as you glanced at the sky now deepening into night.

he sighed, nodding. “yeah. wouldn’t want to give your brothers another reason to dislike me.”

you pouted, your gloved hand coming up to caress his cheek. “they don’t hate you. they just have a hard time accepting the fact that i’ve grown up.”

he leaned into your touch, nodding his head with soft eyes. “yeah, yeah. whatever you say.”

✦ ✦ ✦

later, as found yourself at home in the cabin once again, with the glow from the windows of the chalets and lodges reflecting off the snow, casting a magical light over the landscape, you found yourself back at your favourite place in the world: your boyfriend’s arms.

the scent of pine trees and wood smoke came in from the slightly open window and mingled with the faint sweetness of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen, where your mum and charlotte were cooking up snacks for your movie night.

a small fire crackled in the stone fireplace, its warmth spreading throughout the room. your family were all gathered around, laughter and cheerful chatter filling the air. charles emerged from the hallway with a soft smile, leaning down to ruffle your hair before pressing a kiss to your temple before he moved on to alex, who sat on the couch with an amused grin, and they exchanged a friendly nudge and a few teasing words.

arthur was sprawled out in one of the armchairs, wrapped in a blanket with only his tousled hair visible. he shot you a playful glare when he caught sight of you and kimi on the loveseat, but it was softened by the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

lorenzo was resting next to him, more up right and put together, but still relaxed in a way he only was around you. next to him, two empty spots were waiting for the rest of your close knit family.

leo was shuffling around on the floor, overwhelmed by the amount of cuddly people within his vicinity. his cute little snout poked at all of you as he surveyed the room, before he finally decided to join you and kimi by jumping into your lap.

you let out a small giggle and went to pet him. as the dog settled in between you, kimi’s arm tightened around you just a bit and you looked up at him with an adoring smile.

this, right here, felt absolutely perfect. this was your epitome of happiness. this was your wonderland. the most magical place in the world.

[nicverse]

crawling back to you

where jason can't stop coming back to you every night.

jason todd x journalist!reader

warnings: small mention of blood and wounds. just a little bit of fluff.

You were too busy writing your next article about the last incident in Gotham, too focused on the sound of your fingers against the keyboard that you didn’t even notice Jason’s body slipping behind you, resting his body on your couch.

It had been a long, long night. He was tired and probably didn’t have a good night's sleep for weeks, so as soon as his head touched the soft material of your couch, he dozed off.

His own apartment had been long forgotten since the first time he entered yours. Yours was full of life, small little cosy lights instead of the cold ones he had, lots of books and music records you loved to play when you were cooking. Everything was so nice and warm, like you. Jason always told himself he kept coming back to your place because he just loved the good decoration it had, but mostly, he loved the person who was living there.

He really loved the pretty thing that was sitting in front of him, quickly writing on her laptop.

You didn’t notice his presence until you stood up from your desk and saw his body passed out on your couch. Your heart jumped in your chest as your soul left your body for a few seconds, you were not yet used to his late night appearances in your house. You walked very slowly towards his face, gently removing his mask as your fingers slowly caressed his face. He had a few deep cuts but the worst one was in his brown; an ugly, deep cut that started to bleed a little.

You went for your aid kit. It wouldn’t be the first time you stitched him up and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Your fingers lingered against his skin carefully, starting to clean his wounds.

Jason was a light sleeper, so he noticed your presence as soon as you touched his skin, but he didn’t open his eyes. He felt your fingers taking care of his face so carefully as if he would break. His heart started to pound like a horse running, so hard that he was afraid that you would feel it too.

Your hand was a rose petal cleaning the skin of a killer, and the worst part was that he didn’t even flinch. He just closed his eyes and relaxed in the warmth of your body close to his. Jason never thought he was worthy of so much love, especially you, a broken body like his would never be able to get better.

But you made him believe otherwise. From the first time you took him in your arms and cleaned his wounds he knew deep down that maybe there was hope for him to be better.

"I know you are awake, Jason," you murmured with a chuckle, patching up his wounds. "You're the worst light sleeper I've ever met," Jason opened his eyes to find your pretty face looking down on his as your body knelt beside your couch, "You don't have to patch me up, you know," he replied, biting his cheek to stop the smile that threatened to appear on his face.

He never wanted you to stop patching him up, though. Every night, he would crawl back to you and seek your warmth.

"I know, but I want to," you said, fixing the hair that covered his face. Your eyes pinned in his, no, you didn’t look at the scars in his body, you never looked at him with fear or anger but it was always love and affection.

He wanted to kiss you so badly, to hold you close and never let go, to feel your soft embrace melt into his.

But he couldn't. He didn’t want you to get involved in his world or in his life, not because he didn’t love you, it was because he loved you so much that he wanted to keep you away from his problems— from him.

“Just sleep a bit, Jason, your eyebags make you look like a raccoon” you passed him a blanket, his favorite “could say the same ‘bout you, princess” Jason responded as you rolled your eyes.

"Good night, Red Hood," you said as your body disappeared in the door to your bedroom.

Maybe he should be keeping away from you, but he didn’t want to— not anymore.

—there's something about this type of jason, he loves you buy is too afraid to fuck everything up. yet he can't stop craving your love!

—this is something i took out of the fic im writing about jason x journalist!reader and I love these two already

—i'd love to do requests! feel free to ask them <3

[luveline]

Ok this isn’t Halloween but I would love to see a fic of the first time r spends the night at Aaron’s and she changes into her pj which r these super cute delicate tank and shorts set and Aaron goes crazy!! Like he’s a gentleman obvi (or trying hard to be) but he starts opening my flirting with her and she’s so confused bc usually he’s much more subtle

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

cw adult theme mdni

You don't bother changing in the bathroom. It's not an attempt to come onto him, though you're wondering if he might want that, but a realistic practice. If Aaron wants to be intimate with you tonight he's going to see much more of you than your bra.

He returns from the bathroom as you're pulling down your camisole. It's a simple pair of pyjamas but made of a more expensive fabric, the shorts bordering immodest and the camisole cupping your breasts with enough support that a quick glance in the mirror tells you what you'd wanted to know; you look cute. 

Aaron smiles at you, something unreadable in his expression. His brows lift ever so slightly. "Nice socks." 

"I get cold feet sometimes," you say, pressing your fuzzy heels together. 

"Yeah?" he asks, pushing his hair out of his face. "Me too." 

"What side do you sleep on?" you ask. 

"What side do you sleep on?" he asks back. "Go where you want." 

You pick a random side, too nervous to think about it in depth. The sheets are crisps to the touch and smell freshly laundered, soft against your naked legs. You feel a little like you're playing make believe all cleaned and washed yourself, your heart in your wrist as you squeeze it, watching him flick off the big light and cross the carpeted floor slowly. His room, his entire apartment, is smart but cosy, ambient lamp light and open space. 

"Do you wanna watch TV?" he asks, putting the remote in your lap as he shakes out the sheet and slips in next to you. His body heat is immediately felt. His knee brushes yours as he leans in. "Hold that button down." 

Despite what you'd said about cold feet, you're nervous and he runs warm; by the time you've found something to watch on TV he's sewn his arm through yours and you're practically running a temperature. You have to take your legs back out and lie atop the sheets. 

You pull a knee up. The shorts ease down. 

Aaron sinks into the bed with you, his head just a touch higher than your own. "I'm really happy you're here," he says. 

"I'm happy too," you say, turning your face to his. Nervous, sure, but this is a milestone for your new relationship you're ecstatic to achieve. 

Even if he doesn't have any seductive intention tonight, you're eager to spend the night in his arms. He's older (impossible to ignore), more gentlemanly as a consequence, and during the course of your relationship there have been more important things than sex, like establishing trust with one another, and making sure that your relationship could withstand his constant working. 

"I'm really happy," you say, lifting your chin and fireworks erupt in your chest as he leans down to meet you, kissing you gently. 

"Is this…" His hand trails to the soft of your stomach, pink brushing your thigh where it's hiked. "Your usual nighttime attire?" 

"This is the wanting my boyfriend to like it attire," you confess, because he already knows. Aaron knows everything. He could tell you where you bought them if you gave him long enough.

"Consider them true to form," he says, hand sliding like a heavy, hot weight across your stomach and leaving a worse heat behind. "You look amazing." 

"Yeah?" you ask. 

His lips skin your cheek. He nudges you with his nose to encourage your head back and kisses softly under the line of your jaw, "They're a little small," he says, kissing between whispers, "the shorts." 

"They're not tight," you whisper in turn. 

His hand falls to your thigh, spreading your legs a terrible inch as he tugs at the hem of your shorts. His fingertips dip under them a millimetre as he agrees, "No, they're not. Your top, though…" 

"It was a matching set. I couldn't choose–" 

"Do you have many like it?" he asks, pulling away, meeting your eyes with a charge you've only seen a handful of times. You know exactly what it means, your chest aching with want as his hand comes to rest at the top of your thigh. 

"Sure. Two or three." 

"That won't do." 

You're nervous, but he's your boyfriend. You know more about him than he might think even if you don't know him intimately yet, and his arduousness makes you laugh. He's always been such a gentleman —not many men would ask you to be their girlfriend with a pearl necklace, or invite you to stay the night via text rather than at the end of a date. You'd expected your first time together to be a come up for coffee situation, but he's never propositioned you that way. The text was a sweet surprise, an addition. 

Would you like to stay over after dinner on Friday? Let me know. Can't wait to see you either way. 

No matter what you want, Aaron wants that too. 

You turn into his lap and catch his lips with yours, his hand encroaching on the soft fat of your inner thigh. 

His lips part under yours and you take his face into your hands, a giving in if there ever were one, hoping it says everything you're too shy to admit aloud. No matter how much he clearly likes the shorts, he abandons your thigh and hugs your back to him instead, your chests pressed together until yours is heaving for air. 

"You're usually more subtle than this," you tease, breathless, good-natured. 

"You aren't usually wearing this," he says, his usually smooth voice roughened, "I'm losing my mind." 

"Well, we can't have that." 

He leans back in, laughing against your lips. When his hand works its way under your camisole, you think about where you can get more pyjamas like these ones considering he likes them so badly, but then his hand crawls higher and the thought leaves your mind for the time being. 

[blingblong55]

No Judgement- Simon "Ghost" Riley

---- F!Reader, fluff, dad!Ghost, husband!Ghost, mentions of dad-bod!Ghost ----

A/N: I've been having baby fever for about a week now and recently saw a tiktok and…it made me emotional for some reason so…here's this piece I wrote

Simon was the man who saw himself living in war and dying in it and then you came into his life. For some reason only he knows, he found himself being more careful during missions. Before you, he would rush into a room without care and now, he is more cautious. All because he wants to make it home, to a warm and cosy house. To your arms and loving kisses and to those three kids he swears he'll forever love.

You dated him for 2 years before he knew that you were it for him. Two years and five months, that is what took him to get on his knee and ask you to marry him. Oh if only Tommy was here to see this, that laugh he would have. Before you, Simon didn't show much emotions, besides anger or that cold and rude one he presented himself with. Now, all he can do is talk and talk about all he feels and most of the time, he shows that love and raw emotion through actions.

He didn't cry before you either, except for when his family died but when he saw you walk down the aisle, he couldn't contain the tears. Soap patted his back without judgement for he knew the girl walking to the groom was the one who made the crying groom's heart beat once again. Three years into the marriage, you become pregnant with your first child, a son and oh was Simon delighted.

He was prepared for it all, took courses, read books and made sure the home was baby proof of course, you took the role of being the princess, not a finger lift from you or he would pretend to get upset at it. He needed to protect you, even from the corners of the table, which he of course made sure were ready in case you or the kid would bump into them.

One baby and a puppy later, Simon Riley was a father and for the first two years, he took leave from the military and focused on you and the baby. His eyes are like his father and his energy is just like his. There were days when Simon cried, from sadness and happiness. For one, he was sad his mother didn't get to meet his son and he was happy that for the first time in so long, he knew what a family was like. Lazy Saturdays and Sundays, laying under a tree in the back yard, the grass all nice and soft so the baby would learn to crawl and eventually walk. The puppy watching with the guard, just in case the baby fell.

Simon was always there, for motivation, protection and love. He wanted to ensure that he wouldn't fuck up with this life of his. Soon enough though, he went back to work but he made sure to always have his family in mind. The giggles, the lullabies, smiles and that sweet emotion he had when he watched you and his son. It was bittersweet but so beautiful.

The birth of your second son came as no surprise when Simon once walked to you, shirtless and holding his son with one arm. For some reason that sight alone provoked you to want a second child, which as the loving husband Simon is, he obliged. Nearly ten months and he was by your side, holding your hand, letting you grip it and cry as your second little one came into the world. That cute nose and that smile, what a delight to be a mother to a whole new little light of life.

The holidays became more chaotic as the two boys grew up. Simon slowly left the military, doing fewer missions and being home more often. He began to grow a soft tummy and muscles, something he grew to be insecure about but with plenty of hours of cuddling one night and many kisses that included sweet nothings to his ear, he loved this new him. He wasn't his father but rather the best dad those two little monsters could ever ask for. His beard grew a little and you began to love this sight of him, it was beautiful really. So much so, that one day, as he was doing push-ups with his sons on his back and how they giggled, you teared up.

Making a home was easy but making a happy family was hard and rewarding. Before you knew it, Simon was carrying the kids around the living room, letting them beat him in a playful game of fighting and tag. The giggles around the house, the way Simon smiled like he had entered heaven, that is what made you tear up the most. This is home.

During the holidays, Simon gets so excited that he overdoes it all. He dresses like Santa Claus, eats the biscuits, drinks milk and even gets a treat from the woman of the house. A sneaky little kiss before Santa has to leave for other homes. "I've heard the woman who lives here is the most beautiful, maybe she'll kiss me as a little treat?" He smiles, pleading with those eyes of his. And who could you be to deny him of a sweet kiss?

For the first 5 years of being a proud dad to his two sons, Simon would wear matching outfits with them. It was sweet, watching him get excited like a child, trying to dress his sons up and take them for a walk.

There is one thing he was always making sure would be a rule at home and that is how they treated you. No son of his would be discarding a woman, no son of his would be disrespectful and no son of his would not see how much it takes being a mum and one who works and keeps a home clean and steady. And you bet he taught his sons how to clean and cook later in life.

One warm Spring day came in when you told him the news. Baby number three would be on her merry way. Just like before but with some slight changes, he spoke to your belly. He kissed it, read to it and told his jokes to it. His warm hands are placed on your soft belly when he looks up at you, "Thank you," his eyes are watery and you tilt your head just a bit. "For what?" you ask.

"For giving me a family, for making a home with me. Lovie, before you, I was truly nothing, just a man in a borrowed body and now, I have reason to own this old body of mine. I'm a husband and a dad, I love you," he kisses you and then your belly.

After the birth of your daughter, he like your two sons carried her in a camouflage carrier. A pink bow is one of the little patches. 'Baby girl Riley' is one of those patches as well.

As time went on, he transformed into a retired military officer. Now, he is a full-time dad. Night shifts and diaper changes were his duty as well as your comfort. With more time, he had a softer tummy, his dad bod making him insecure some days but as always, you were there to reassure him it was normal and it was beautiful.

There have been moments when you catch yourself being mesmerised by him.

For instance, when he plays dolls with your daughter or he gets into his role of the cashier when playing grocery. His sass when your daughter doesn't hurry up paying with her card or cash and how he calls her sweetheart any time she pays. There was one time when you saw him sat down on the sofa, watching telly all as your daughter did his makeup, hair and how she gossips with him and he gossips back. By the end of the day, he asks you to undo the tiny rubber bands from his hair.

Before he retired, you found him sitting by his desk, toys all over it as he wrote a report, played and gave his attention to his sons and this was because you were tired and he wanted to give you extra hours of sleep.

He became a football coach for your son's team, every Saturday he was on that field, whistling and shouting for when they make a goal. Of course, you and your daughter sat on the bleachers, eating snacks and cheering for the young footballer of your son. Simon of course would have dark cargo jeans and in most pockets, he had snacks for all his kids. "Daddy, mummy says you have my gummies," his youngest son would softly say and Simon would just pat his bottom pocket and his son would soon take out his gummies.

As his daughter grows old, it's his dad duty to not allow his daughter to date some idiot so, he makes sure to take her on dates, bring her flowers and make her understand how a man should treat her. When he and his two sons go to a different city for some sporting event, he comes back with two bouquets, one for you and one for his princess.

Since he didn't have a stable childhood, Simon, during winter buys everyone matching pyjamas. It just makes things 110% better in his opinion and who can deny a man with easy needs such a cute need? Never you, certainly.

By the time he reaches forty-three, Simon has his entire camera roll filled with pictures of his beautiful family and the occasional picture of a bird he thinks the kids would like to see.

Now, as you lay in bed with him, he turns to you, "I think I have lived this life to its fullest, lovie," he smiles and caresses your face. "Hm, yeah?" you lean into his touch and he nods like a little kid. "I mean, I have three amazing monsters, I am getting to see past thirty and I have always wanted a hot and funny wife, so I know for a fact that I have lived the best of it," he kisses your hand and holds it as he falls asleep.

A/N: Sometimes, I want a husband, a picket fence and lazy weekends with our kids bursting through the door in the morning and feeling like I made it in life…anyway…bye!

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[lvnleah]

clingy mornings | alessia russo.

You woke up slowly, the soft light of morning creeping in through the curtains. The familiar warmth of Alessia’s body was pressed against yours, her arm wrapped loosely around you as she slept soundly. Her hair was scattered across the pillow, and her breath was steady and peaceful. For a moment, you just lay there, taking in the quiet of the room, the world outside still a blur.

You shifted slightly, trying not to wake her, but she stirred anyway, her hand instinctively pulling you a little closer. You couldn’t help but smile, the comfort of being in her arms feeling like the most natural thing in the world.

“Morning baby,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, but there was a softness to it, something that made your heart skip a beat.

“Morning,” you whispered back, your fingers brushing lightly against her wrist. You knew the day would be busy for her, but right now, in this moment, it was just the two of you, the world outside forgotten.

Alessia groaned softly, stretching out beside you before her arm found its way back around your waist, pulling you closer still. “Do you want to get up?” she asked, her voice more awake now but still heavy with the remnants of sleep.

“I don’t know,” you replied, your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on her arm. “I like being here with you.”

She hummed in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Me too. But if we stay here much longer, we’ll never get out of bed.”

You laughed quietly, the sound of it mixing with the soft rustle of the sheets. Slowly, you both shifted, finding your way out of the warm cocoon of the bed. Alessia stretched again, her body moving with ease. You reached for your phone on the nightstand and checked the time, but Alessia was already halfway to the kitchen, making her way toward the coffee machine.

You followed her, your feet hitting the cold floor, and you felt a sense of calm settle over you as you entered the kitchen. She was already preparing the coffee, her movements fluid and practised, and you leaned against the doorframe, watching her in silence for a moment.

“You’re always so organized in the mornings,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Alessia glanced over her shoulder and grinned, “Someone has to be. You’d still be in bed if it were up to you.”

“Maybe,” you agreed, walking toward her. You slid your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder as she poured the coffee. “But I like waking up with you.”

She turned her head, catching your eyes with hers. “I like it too,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

As she handed you a cup, you both settled into your usual spots, her legs stretched out as you sat close, sipping your coffee in silence. The world outside could wait. 

The rest of the morning passed lazily, with Alessia clinging to you like a second blanket. After breakfast, you both found yourselves curled up on the sofa, a soft throw draped over your legs. Alessia’s head was resting on your shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.

“Comfy?” you teased, though your voice was soft, almost as if you didn’t want to disturb the cosy atmosphere.

She nuzzled further into you, her breath warm against your neck. “Very,” she murmured. “You’re not allowed to move, by the way.”

You chuckled, your fingers absentmindedly running through her hair. “I wasn’t planning to. Someone seems a little clingy this morning.”

Her lips curved into a smile against your collarbone. “I just missed you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart melted at her words. Alessia wasn’t one to shy away from expressing how she felt, but it never failed to make you fall for her all over again. “I missed you too,” you said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Even though we were literally together all night.”

She tilted her head up, her blue eyes meeting yours, sparkling with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you while I was asleep.”

“Smooth, Russo,” you said, grinning.

She laughed softly, her arms tightening around you for a moment before she settled back into her spot. “I’m serious, though. Days like this—when we don’t have to rush anywhere—I love them.”

You hummed in agreement, resting your cheek against her hair. “Me too. No alarms, no schedules. Just us.”

The movie playing in the background was one you’d both seen a dozen times, but neither of you paid much attention to it. Alessia’s fingers traced slow patterns on your arm, and you could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing as she relaxed completely against you.

“Do you think we should do something productive today?” you asked, though you didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic about the idea.

Alessia shook her head, her grip on you tightening slightly. “Nope. I vote we stay right here all day.”

You laughed, your hand sliding down to intertwine with hers. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me,” she said, a playful smirk on her lips as she tilted her head up to look at you again.

“I do,” you replied, your voice soft, sincere. “I really do.”

Her smile softened, and she leaned up to press a kiss to your lips. “Good, because I’m not letting you go anywhere today.”

And as the day stretched on, the two of you stayed exactly where you were, wrapped up in each other, letting the world outside fade into the background.

[literatureloverx]

Celebrating Valentine’s Day with BSD men

BSD men x reader, I did not use pronouns for the reader, but in some cases, it is subtly implied to be female, though not overtly so.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

He would gift you—very much in line with what Asagiri confirmed—an entire country. Be prepared to manage political affairs because you will be the president and owner of your favourite nation. Congratulations!

Expect a lavish candlelit dinner, accompanied by classical music and an exquisite orchestra.

You can also look forward to many other gifts—he is never one to hold back. Your shared bedroom will likely be filled with presents, each meticulously crafted and designed just for you. The sheer intricacy and depth of his knowledge about you will leave you breathless.

The night will conclude with a magnificent fireworks display.

You made the right choice by choosing to live in isolation with him, basking in the luxury he provides—not that your answer would have made a difference if you had said no.

Dazai Osamu

We all know that Dazai—the Dazai—is, unsurprisingly, utterly broke and survives off the money of his fellow ADA members, such as Atsushi and Kunikida. (We love a pest.🩵)

He isn’t the overtly romantic type, but that doesn’t mean his love is any less intense.

He will likely buy you a bouquet of roses with Kunikida’s money and give Atsushi his best puppy-dog eyes to help him get you a pair of matching rings.

But then comes the truly unexpected part—he takes you stargazing in the freezing cold, having put in all the effort to create a soft, cosy space for you both to lie on, complete with extra blankets and pillows.

And when it starts snowing? You are going home, of course—not that he didn’t account for this. He has another present waiting for you there—one he actually bought himself, which is precisely why he had no money left for anything else.

He is a pervert. That is all I am going to say.

Nakahara Chuuya

Another man with refined tastes and a big, considerate, loving heart for his darling. He would spend weeks—if not months—thinking about the perfect way to celebrate this day with you, determined to make it unforgettable.

Chuuya pays attention—he really does, because he cares that much. Though he is not the best with subtleties, he does his best to take mental notes on everything you like and dislike, everything you want and do not want.

So, expect gifts that are carefully chosen, each one making it clear just how much he notices about you.

The evening will likely begin with him presenting you with a luxuriously crafted dress from a high-end designer—one he specifically picked for you. He wants you to wear it because he is taking you somewhere special, and of course, you will, with the brightest smile on your face.

You will dine at an exclusive restaurant, sharing exquisite wine and food together.

And knowing Chuuya, he will not stop at just one gift. Throughout the night, he will keep surprising you, giving you something new every half hour—because spoiling you is just second nature to him.

Nikolai Gogol

Haha, you silly thing. You actually think Valentine’s Day is romantic? That ridiculous day where Homo sapiens willingly cage themselves—not even in their own perception of love, but in the artificial fantasy constructed by capitalism?

Just joking. If you find it romantic, then of course, he does too. Or at least, he pretends to. Watching your reactions to his “gifts” is far too entertaining. He might as well play along and turn this whole romance thing into one of his little games.

Expect the most outrageous surprises—perhaps he will take you on a helicopter ride, only to reveal that he has written I love you on the ground below… using meticulously arranged corpses. A heartfelt, handcrafted message just for you.

Or maybe he will gift you something else grotesque—something that reminds him of you or symbolises your love in his own twisted way.

Oh, and expect plenty of Valentine’s Day quizzes.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Now, here is someone who has no idea what to do with himself on Valentine’s Day.

To him, it is pointless. Why should this day be any different from the others? And why are you looking at him like that? The expectation in your gaze makes him feel cornered.

But Akutagawa hates being behind on anything. So, despite thinking this whole thing is ridiculous (such a tsundere), he still makes an effort. He prepares something for you—a small but meaningful gift, something that proves he has thought about you, about this day, and has put effort into making you happy.

And once it is over, he lets out a relieved sigh.

Yet, later that night, when he recalls the joy on your face upon receiving his gift, he feels something warm and unfamiliar flicker inside him. He refuses to acknowledge it—but deep down, he knows.

[bywons]

WITH AND WITHOUT ﹆ LHS

⌕ where lee heeseung realises he messed up too bad

𖦹 pairing. toxic!bf! lee heeseung x f!reader w.c. 0.7k tw/cw. cursing, implications of cheating at end genre. angst/hurt sru's note. pls don't let this flop TT ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

heeseung's head aches more than ever, and for every second that he stares at the minimalist silver pendant sitting still between your collarbones, it's thin silver chain hugging your neck ever so softly, it aches even more.

and now it's the time for his heart. he physically cringes out of guilt when he watches you retract your hand away from his. he just wants to hold your hand in his, wants to embrace the soft warmth that once felt like home, that cosy and cordial sensation that gave him butterflies.

but now that is long gone.

it started with heeseung really. from your shoulders missing the embrace of his arm to his cheeks missing your tickling, feathery kiss. neither of you know when this started; an invisible wall growing between you two, and all you can do is sit and watch, letting the wall increase the distance you've already built in between you both.

“you should focus on the movie instead”, your tone is boring, maybe even annoyed. or maybe none, heeseung simply doesn't know. he can't concentrate on whatever's playing in front of him, his eyes are fixed on your necklace, sending such visuals to his brain out of which he can only think of scenarios that hammers his heart even more.

the pendants’ a heart. it's a fucking heart.

“yeah, i am”, heeseung lies, again. just like the way he lied to you three months ago saying he would definitely attend your birthday party albeit his rough basketball practice.

you searched for your boyfriend's compelling face for hours that evening. waited for him the whole night, an hour passed by, then two, then three. every face in your apartment left and the one that should've been there by your side on the couch, holding you in his arms and kissing you all over, was not there. lee heeseung indeed broke his promise that day, along with a piece of you.

“really? what just happened right now then?”, you yawn, munching on the caramel popcorn, a flavour you didn't really like. but heeseung is unable to answer your question right now, he doesn't find enough words to formulate a sentence and explain why he didn't really know what was going on in the movie. his eyes just mindlessly read over the subtitles at the bottom of the screen not really getting the context behind it, there are more vital thoughts in the back of his head, eating him alive in this moment.

heeseung mentally curses himself for instances that took place months ago. instances which once broke your heart, you cried over it, burying your face in the pillow and then eventually forgetting about it. instances that heeseung never cared enough to think about twice before going to bed, or use to reflect on his actions or even think about it.

but suddenly heeseung wishes he could go back in time and return to your birthday party that evening, he wishes he was not that casual to flirt with your best friend in front of you, he wishes he hadn't caused those meaningless arguments with you, he wishes he'd never told you that his ex was better. heeseung wishes he was a better boyfriend for you.

“this one new?”, and heeseung's eyes are back on the necklace you were wearing, it's dainty silver heart infuriating him even more and he can't find the reason why. why the fuck can't he recognize the necklace?

“this one?”, you very well know which one he means when you point at the silver necklace on your neck, or else why will you be sitting with your cardigan pushed all the way down to your collarbones? “you gave it to me, don't you remember?”, you smile.

“not really”, heeseung trails off, a smile from you felt odd after days of cold shoulder from you. it doesn't feel genuine though, so he returns another fake smile hoping you wouldn't notice, “maybe i forgot.”

heeseung can never forget, never ever when it comes to you. he might have been the worst boyfriend ever but he's dying for your touch right now, maybe playing hard to get in your own relationship got him? he can't bet on being ‘good boyfriend’ all over again, he knows he fucked up. but he can bet on one thing though.

he swears and he swears to god and all his 23 years of life, he has never bought that necklace for you.

‘cause why the fuck would it have a ‘J’ engraved on it?

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

(📌) :: TAGLIST IS OPEN! @euncsace @fleumiu @leaderwon @dimplewonie @yrhome @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaasia111 @ashtxrie nets! @/k-labels

[lukolathoughts]

Is it a shark? Or an Anchovy?

Dearest gentle reader,

The ship's main cabin is cosy and intimate with an ornate fireplace, stimulating the crackling flames of a roaring fire illuminating the room with a toasty orange glow. Around a large round table sits my crew. We are laughing and merry. We discuss war stories, baby photos and battle scars. The ship rocks peacefully over gentle waves as the sun sets to darkness. Laughter echoes around the cabin and glasses clink as many a bottle is shared. The atmosphere is jovial. Jokes are told and raucous laughter erupts.

I glance towards the ships round porthole. We are below decks so I can see the deep darkness of the ocean. Occasionally, fish swim past in a swirling shoal. An occasional red jellyfish. A lone crusty crab scuttles by. I marvel at the wonder of the ocean and our great ship. The USS Lukola. Splendid in in's majesty. Last week's attack, practically forgotten. The USS Lutonia lurks somewhere near shore, cloaked in darkness.

In the midst of another great anecdote by a crew member, I glance again towards the porthole and a large shadow glides past it. I sit forward, frowning. My eyes narrow towards the porthole. Am I the only one who has noticed?

Show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I want to go to bed, I had a little drink about an hour ago, And it's gone right to my head, Wherever I may roam, On land or sea a-foam,

My crew member abruptly swings her leg on the table and pulls up her trouser leg, proudly showing us last June's battle scar. Now, long, red and nasty looking, but healed. I swing my head towards the porthole and the shadow darkens it again and swishes past. Is that a fin?

"Guys..." I sit forward, warily. My heart starts to beat, but my voice is drowned out by laughter and merriment. I stand and walk towards the porthole and press my nose against the thick, cold glass. I can only see the endless depth of the ocean and the deep blue of the sea.

"What are you looking at, ZG?" Number 2 asks. "I'm not sure..." I reply, quietly. I squint again as the laughter fades and I see it. A shadow blacker than night, has started to journey head on towards our ship. The shape gets gradually bigger and bigger. It becomes unmistakable in it's speed and ferocity.

Dum dum, dum dum, dum, dum, dum......

You're gonna need a bigger boat.

I brace for impact.

No there is no Jaws-esque crash through the porthole as it smashes into the ship. No thrusting of an air tank into the razor sharp teeth of a shark. No me getting my head chomped off.

Not a torpedo this time either. There are no holes in our ship, but it does take a beating. We once again lose some passengers. Even I, run up to the deck and put my leg over the side and cry. I peer down at the murky depths and I see the tiny little anchovy circling like the predator she is. Dressed cheaply in black, disguised as a great white. But more like a shrimp. My number two, drags me back over. She shakes me, puts me in timeout in the crew cabin and takes over cleaning up. She is the best. The crew rally around and I know we are ok.

Then we process.

Ok, guys enough with the fish analogies. Lets call Antonia out for what she is. The girl with the snake. I haven't forgotten. As for Luke, please if you are reading this know that we support you and we are sorry you have to pretend with this farce of publicity. Call me delulu if you want to. I know what a lot of people think of us 'hardcore' Lukola's. It really is not delulu now, it is critical thinking as I have discussed previously. I was just as upset on Sunday evening as everyone else. It is not the fact that I may be wrong in my tarot readings, I can admit that freely if I have to. It's my concern for Luke and examination of the evidence that gives me pause. Luke, blink twice if you need help.

If we go back to the world tour and watch Luke's behaviour and body language for the entire six month tour when around Nicola and the Bridgerton cast, we can see that his behaviour around Antonia the last two times we have seen him at the Boss event and last Sunday's GQ, is vastly different. It is like night and day. Light and darkness. We can go back further than Nicola, to see his behaviour with Jade. There are plenty of video evidence that Jade shared to prove this to be true.

Last Friday, high off endorphins from the Polin - heavy Bridgerton event, the fandom was overjoyed to see a relaxed looking Luke sans Antonia on Valentine's Day at a dinner. He happily greeted and spoke to fans outside and answered questions. Lukola's breathed a sigh of relief. He was alone on Valentine's Day. No rings, wearing black. Nicola was also wearing black at the IFTA's. Also no rings. Their soul - matism from different countries is poignant.

All is quiet on Saturday, but what we didn't know is that there is a hilarious joint birthday for Jake and his friend Becky 'Jecky'. A combined name quite similar to 'Jakola' don't you think?

Nicola, like the magic travelling person she is, is in attendance. Now this party seemed to go over the head's of the Jakola's on Sunday and I had to log out of twitter for a good week to escape the pure vitriol against Nicola. This is also classic British humour. It is what us Brits do, we take the piss. I do not mean to discriminate if you are not British, but some jokes seem to go over some people's heads. It is not fair for me to keep on about Jake's sexuality on public platforms, but Jakehole's I am speaking directly to you. Let this young lad be and let him be who was born to be. He was wearing a 'too old for Leo' badge because now he is 25, Leo will not date him anymore. The joke is Leonardo Dicaprio won't date anyone over the age of 25. (I'd say 19 these days, but whatever). So why would Jake wear a badge that says that? I'm telling you now no straight man in the UK would do it. Being gay even in 2025 in the UK is not funny. Is not something straight or gay men joke about. Homosexuality discrimination is very real.

"The UK, which once used to be one of Europe’s most welcoming places to be gay, has seen a 462% increase in sexual orientation hate crime reports since 2012." Metro, June 2024. Jake is from Nottingham which is up in the Midlands in the UK. The area is very working - class. A while back he shared an extract on his Instagram stories from Shuggie Bain by Douglas Scott. The book is about a young boy growing up on one of Glasgow's toughest council estates. The book is then followed up by Young Mungo, which is the story of a young gay relationship on the same council estate. In England, hate crimes against homosexuals rose to 2,591 per 1000,000 people in 2023/2024. My point is, Jake would have been extremely familiar with homophobia growing up in the midlands (Nottingham) in the 2010's onwards. He has had reported issues with his own father and acceptance of who he is. The article that accompanied the music video that Jake starred in, 'You me at Six - Mixed Emotions' states, "With Jake Dunn who played the protagonist in the video, we actually spoke a lot about toxic masculinity and his experiences within his sexuality and the impacts it has had on his relationship with his dad."

Jake has clearly been through a lot to get to this point. I google him and every article I can see is how he is in a relationship with Nicola Coughlan. I feel they have agreed to this in some shape or form, but I think now enough is enough. Denying a young person like this his sexuality, is extremely damaging. There was no shade towards Nicola on Saturday. It was shade for the sub-fandom of Jakehole's who refuse to see the truth. Jake is being as clear as he can with who he is. It is time people listen. The ship is gone. Red Jellyfish, I am talking to you.

Back to Luke, Sunday went from bad to worse for me. I will not stand for people disparaging Nicola publicly. I was upset over that and then here comes black widow Antonia clutching on to Luke like the barnacle she is. Ok, we're back to fish! Again, she had no coat, purse or phone and was dressed cheaply for the event. There is video footage of her walking way in front of Luke entering the event. He did not pose with her for official red carpet photos and then he made it damned obvious in my opinion that he left without her. Alone. Getting into the car alone. Antonia nowhere in sight.

Then comes his stories. He makes the whole thing look like he is single until the bed pasta. Luke knows that pasta is associated with Anchovy and traumatises his fans, so he also throws in Love Island which is Nicola's favourite tv show and fries/chips with various sauces, again Nicola coded. Then a text message to some bloke called Gary. Are my messages getting through Gary? (General audience) are you getting it yet!! I'm not so delulu to think that Antonia could very well be in the bed of pasta, but for someone so vapid as her, watching Love Island would equate to her mentally wishing she was on it. Prediction for a few years. Anchovy again doesn't post to her stories about the event. She does however post her 'Barely' knickers brand (don't get me started) and Luke obligatory likes it. Cue fandom eyeroll. There's a lot more I could say about the timing of Luke's 'forced' appearances with Anchovy and her 'barely' brand and dance video launches, but frankly my dear I don't give a damn. (My six year old would not wear knickers like that, let alone my wedding party).

What upset me most is watching Luke's aura and personality change when he is around Antonia. As an empath, it hurts me deeply and it's literally like watching him get cloaked in darkness. When I think of Anchovy this comes to mind:

"A succubus is a female demon or supernatural entity in folklores who appears in dreams to seduce men, mostly through sexual activity. Repeated sexual activity with a succubus will result in a bond being formed between the succubus and the person; and a succubus will drain or harm the man with whom she is having intercourse." Wikipedia. I am not calling Anchovy a demon, calm your jets. It is a metaphor for her influence over Luke whatever it may be.

Luke literally looks drained when he is around this girl. It seems to me, he can only stand it for short periods. It was rumoured he only stayed for forty minutes maximum at the Bafta after party on Sunday.

I have seen this before. I have watched painfully as Meghan Markle decimated Prince Harry to the literal shell of a man he is now. He is broken, isolated and the laughing stock of the world. I cannot and will not go through watching another yacht girl from Soho House destroy a man I care about in the media. That is why it has to be PR. It just has to be.

What I will say about the Sag awards is for everyone to remain calm and stay on the ship seated and buckled up. I did get some nice cards for Nicola yesterday of victory and success, so we shall see and we wish the Bridgerton cast the best. If Luke takes Antonia I will be shocked, because if he won't pay for her dress, hair and makeup for small events, I'm confused why he'd bankroll a costly LA trip. Also, is he planning on wrestling her phone out of her hands the entire trip? Anchovy ruined two Bridgerton premieres, so hopefully Luke will not be coerced into dragging her bony behind across the world. I still believe this is a massive PR distraction. Why hasn't Deux Moi posted about Luke and Antonia? Why the solo pap pics of Luke released on Tuesday, but no mention of Anchovy. What is going on? Stay tuned folks and pray.

[writingrock]

the tale of two lovers [1]

pairing: barbarian! katsuki bakugou x reader (female) summary: a bard approaches a lone barbarian in search for a story to tell. Who could have known that the barbarian end up being such a romantic tale.

notes: fantasy au, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, bakusquad, barbarian bakugou

word count: 7.1k

part list

part one: chapter list

a/n: I told myself this would be a oneshot and now it's accumulated to six chapters with no end in sight.

In the heart of this simple town, a rambunctious group of adventurers stumble through the night. Seeking refuge from the cold night. A towering barbarian leads— His broad shoulders clad in woolly animal fur that puffs upwards adding height to his figure. Over his red cape, a scimitar slings over his back serving as a warning to all. Irritation grows with each step, his red eyes darting around his surroundings for shelter.

“Tch.” a grumble leaving his throat as they trudge on, “How hard is it to find a damn inn?” annoyance laces the blonde’s voice. The pink skinned fighter and dragon shifter exchange glances, silently communicating through their facial expressions on how to mitigate Katsuki’s temper. After a brief and wordless discussion, Mina turns to the barbarian.

Attempting to ease the tension, she speaks gently. “Don’t blow a fuse just yet, we’ll find one soon,” Her bright pink skin stands out even in the dim setting, blush pink curls bouncing as she walks, “you’re not the only one who’s exhausted ya know.”. The barbarian rolls his eyes as he moves forward.

Their mindless bickering fills the cool air as they traverse through the town, searching for somewhere easy and simple to stay for the night. Folks that happened to pass by the group could feel their agitation seething from them. Their frustrations would be understood if one simply knew what they’ve been through. Heavy grunts and whiny complaints leaves their mouths as they search for an inn. Exhausted from finishing their recent commission that brought them on a long-winded journey.

Finishing their commission feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from the group’s shoulders. They’ve returned to town to meet with their employer for their reward. Despite how antsy the group is for their pay, they’ll have to wait until it’s day. At the very least, they can get some deserved rest after such a long journey.

A warm glow stops them in their tracks. There’s a bustling inn standing with pride in the centre of the town. The windows are aglow with a golden light, casting a warm, inviting hue onto the weathered cobblestone street below. To them, this inn is a warm haven against this cold night. It appears that their earlier frustrations seem to vanish with this finding. Atop the thatched roof there are wisps of smoke curling lazily from the chimney, carrying the comforting scent of wood, smoke and roasting meat. The smell alone causes their stomachs to grumble. Hunger finally hit them. How long have they been starving? Flickering lanterns hang on either side of the heavy wooden door, their flames dancing within their confines. Hanging above the entrance is a creaky sign emblazoned with the tavern’s name, “The Tipsy Hippogryph”.

The heavy wooden door creaks as it swings open, allowing the sounds and scents of the tavern to spill into the night. The tavern's walls, made of sturdy stone and timber, are adorned with flickering torches and a few faded tapestries. There is a cosy, golden glow over the room. Wooden tables and benches, scarred by years of use, are scattered across the floor, most occupied by patrons enjoying their evening. The low hum of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter create a comforting, lively ambiance. The tavern keeper, a burly man with a thick beard and a booming voice, moves deftly behind the bar, filling tankards with frothy ale and serving plates of hearty stew. His wife, a kind-eyed woman with a quick smile, greets the weary travellers.

“Evening.” She greets warmly, “Looking for rooms or just here for a bite?” It’s clear she’s experienced with her work. There’s a homely touch to her that puts one at ease. Her voice is pleasant with a maternal tone, it welcomes all that step foot into the inn.

Bakugou strides up to the counter, his imposing figure catching the attention of a few patrons. He simply ignores them and speaks to the innkeeper. “Two rooms, we’ll share.” He wastes no time getting straight to the point. Not really keen on small talk or talking in general.

The innkeeper gets to work immediately, flicking through the log book to search for the requested rooms. Her hands are fast to hand the barbarian the keys and inform him where they are located. “If yer hungry, our kitchen is still open.” she gestures to the busy meal area by her side. The place is scattered with patrons from all walks of life. Townsfolk, travellers and merchants. They sit hunched over their mugs, deep in conversation, while others sing raucously, their cheeks flushed from the ale.

At the sound of food, the adventurers do not waste any more time. They find a table by the fireplace. The blooming fire roars in the large hearth, its crackling flames adding to the tavern's warmth. The air is thick with the mingling aromas of roasting meat, fresh bread, and the sharp tang of spilled ale. The scent alone sends them to the edge of their hunger. Eagerly ordering a feast with an abundance of ale to satisfy their stomach. A barmaid weaves through the tables with practised ease, balancing trays laden with food and drink. She exchanges friendly banter with the regulars as she serves them.

In the corner, a minstrel plucks at a lute, singing a cheerful ballad that competes with the din of the crowd. His nimble fingers dance across the strings, and his voice, though not perfect, adds a layer of charm to the tavern's atmosphere. A few patrons clap along, and a couple of children, likely the tavern keeper's, dance near the hearth, their laughter ringing out above the noise. Candles set in iron sconces flicker, casting long shadows that shift and sway with the movement of the patrons. The wooden floorboards creak underfoot, worn smooth by countless feet over the years. The bar is a hub of activity, with patrons jostling for the keeper's attention, coins clinking as they pay for their drinks.

It wasn’t long for the barmaid to come by with their order. As she approached, the enticing smell of the freshly made food made their mouths water. Swiftly, she begins to place the platter onto the round, wooden table. ​​In the centre of the table, golden-brown turkey legs are piled high on a simple steel plate. The skin is crispy and glistening with savoury juices. The sight teases the group as they wait patiently for the maid to finish her job.

A basket of freshly baked bread is placed beside the turkey legs. The bread was still warm, the crust crackling slightly as it cooled. The innkeeper had sliced the loaf thickly, revealing a soft, fluffy interior that begged to be torn apart and slathered with butter. Following that is a large bowl filled with baked potatoes. Each potato was perfectly roasted, the skins crispy and slightly salted. A dollop of melted butter pooled in the centre of each potato, seeping into the fluffy interior and releasing a heavenly, buttery fragrance.

Finally, the barmaid props down a wooden pitcher of ale, frothy and cold, with a rich amber hue. The most exciting addition to the meal. She hands out the sturdy mugs. The ale foams up to the brim, a few droplets spilling over the edges and onto the table.

“Thank you pretty lady.” Denki shoots a charming smile at the barmaid, earning a laugh from her. She waves him off before going back to tend the busy bar. The impatient one, Bakugou, grabbed a turkey leg first, tearing into the tender meat with a satisfied grunt. Kirishima and Mina followed suit, each reaching for a leg of their own. In turn, Sero and Denki dove into the bread, slathering it with butter and passing around the baked potatoes.

They settle into the warmth of the inn, enjoying the hearty meal. Laughter filled the air as they recounted the day's journey, from the close calls during their journey to Denki’s less-than-graceful attempt at flirting with the local from earlier. Bakugou, as usual, mostly grunted in response, too focused on his food and drink to indulge in much conversation. As the night wore on, the group began to grow tired. They’ve satisfied their hunger and now it’s time to turn to other needs. Kirishima stretched and let out a loud yawn, his dragon scales glinting in the firelight. "Alright, I’m beat. Think I’ll hit the hay."

Mina nods, agreeing with Kirishima’s words. She pushes herself off the chair and straightens up, “Busy day tomorrow, we should all get some rest.” The other two members rise from their seats except for one. Bakugou stays in his seat, looking down at his ale. Admiring the deep amber colour. It looks rich and inviting under the flickering light of the hearth. A thick, frothy head crowned the top, with bubbles rising lazily to the surface, creating a satisfying hiss as they popped. The ale clung to the sides of the sturdy wooden mug as Bakugou tilted it slightly, leaving a thin, foamy residue in its wake.

“I’ll be here a while longer,” Bakugou doesn’t look up, “Don’t wait up for me.” He tosses the keys onto the table, keeping the spare for himself. Usually, he’d be the first to hit the sack. Always emphasising on the importance of sleep for the body. But his comrades already know the reason for the sudden change. He needs to be alone. Denki and Sero exchange a glance.

"Don’t stay up too late, Bakugou," Denki teased, slapping the barbarian on the back as he walked past. "We need you in top form tomorrow." As he skips over to Denki, Sero manages to ruffle Bakugou’s hair. Not that it changed much, it’s still a mess.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, taking another swig of ale. "Just.. get outta here." He doesn’t have the energy to be foul. The others laughed as they headed upstairs, leaving Bakugou alone at the table. He leans back in his chair, savouring the quiet and the last few bites of his meal. The inn had began to empty out, with only a few patrons lingering near the bar, their voices low as they finished their drinks.

He stays in his seat, lost in thought, with his pint of ale. Mindlessly watching people leave the tavern, lost in thought. Warmth spreads through Bakugou's chest as he takes a long sip. There was a subtle sweetness from the roasted barley, balanced by a hint of bitterness from the hops that lingered pleasantly on his tongue. The finish is smooth, with a slightly smoky aftertaste, leaving a satisfying sensation that made him reach for another sip almost immediately.

Just as Bakugou was about to take a sip, a figure approached his table. It’s a bard, a lithe man with a lute slung across his back and a curious glint in his eye. He wears a wide-brimmed hat adorned with a single feather, and his fingers were adorned with rings that glinted in the firelight. Bakugou has the intention to ignore the man, he isn’t in the mood for company. Especially from some halfwit in a dumb hat.

The bard gives Bakugou a respectful nod before speaking. “Mind if I join you for a moment, sir?”

Bakugou looks the bard up and down with an unreadable expression. “I do mind, now fuck off.” he gruffly replies as he takes a sip of his ale, “Go bother someone else.”

The bard’s smile remains steady, unruffled by Bakugou's gruff tone. "Forgive me for intruding," he speaks, his eyes twinkling with genuine curiosity. "I couldn’t help but notice you and your companions earlier. You strike me as a man with stories to tell, and I’m always on the lookout for inspiration for my songs. Care to share a tale or two?" His gaze is earnest, carefully assessing Bakugou’s mood, hoping to coax a story from the reluctant barbarian.

Bakugou leans back, grumbling as he takes another swig of ale. "I don’t tell stories. It’s not my thing."

The bard chuckles softly, sliding into a chair without waiting for an invitation. "Everyone has a story, even those who claim otherwise. Perhaps a tale of a great battle, or a quest that brought you to this town? A man like you must have seen his share of adventure."

Bakugou’s eyes narrow, studying the bard. His instinct is to brush off the intrusion, but something about the bard’s easy confidence and genuine curiosity makes him pause. Maybe it was the warmth of the ale or the unusual openness of the evening, but Bakugou found himself surprisingly open to the conversation. He did have a story— one that weighed heavily on him.

"Why do you care?" Bakugou asks, surprised by his own willingness to engage. On any other night, he’d have tossed the bard out or shouted him away.

The bard shrugs, resting his elbows on the table with an air of quiet conviction. "Stories are what keep us alive. They remind us of where we’ve been, what we’ve survived, and inspire others to forge their own paths. Besides," he adds with a grin, "I have a feeling your story is one worth hearing."

Bakugou is silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. He thinks back to all the battles he had fought, the friends he had made, the enemies he had faced. He isn’t one to dwell on the past, but he couldn’t deny that his life had been anything but ordinary. Especially with the most recent chapter of his story: you.

Finally, he sets his mug down with a decisive thud and meets the bard’s gaze. Perhaps the ale has made him loose-lipped. "Alright, I’ll tell you one story. But just one. Don’t expect me to get all sentimental or anything.”

“I met a woman, her name was …”

Your name was scribbled on the back of a map. That was Bakugou’s first introduction to you. He scowled down at what was supposed to be an intricately drawn parchment, then back up at the merchant. “You’re telling me this costs eighty gold and twenty silver?” His teeth clenched, barely containing his frustration at the absurd price. This flimsy, poorly drawn map isn’t worth half that. The barbarian’s patience was wearing thin—this was the twentieth merchant he’d approached in search of this damned map, and all he had to show for it was what looked like a cheap knock-off.

They were hunting for the map of Niniel’s Veil, an ancient, mysterious elven forest known for its dense, enchanted woods. Those who dared venture into it often wandered lost for years, if they ever returned at all. Information about the Veil was scarce, and what little existed was shrouded in myth and legend. All most people knew about was how difficult it was to go in and out of the forest alive. Bakugou was furious to find that after all this effort, all he was offered was this questionable scrap of parchment.

Niniel’s Veil was more than just a forest—it was a vast, sprawling labyrinth of nature. A forest shrouded in ancient magic and mystery, its reputation known far and wide as both a place of wonder and peril. The towering trees, with trunks as wide as castle towers, reached impossibly high, their dense canopies weaving together like an impenetrable tapestry of leaves and branches. The forest floor was an entanglement of twisted roots and thick underbrush, where sunlight barely penetrated, casting the entire woodland in perpetual twilight. Swallowing anyone who dared to enter. Every step inside the Veil felt like stepping into another world, where the air was thick with the scent of moss and the whisper of ancient secrets carried on the wind.

This forest had once been the sacred domain of elven ancestors, a place of refuge and mystery. It was said that within its depths lay countless treasures and artefacts, hidden away by those ancient elves who had stolen them in times of war and turmoil. The promise of these lost relics had lured many adventurers into the forest, but few had ever returned. Those who did spoke of twisted paths that led them in circles, illusions that played tricks on their minds, and creatures that seemed to be made of the very shadows that filled the Veil.

For Bakugou, entering Niniel’s Veil was not a choice but a necessity. He needed to find a lost piece of his draconic artefact, a relic of immense power that had been passed down through his family for generations. Without it, the artefact was incomplete. The artefact was not just a tool; it was a part of him, tied to his very identity and strength. The thought of it being lost forever gnawed at him, driving him to desperation. It’s been left missing for too long and he intended to do something about it.

He stared at the map in his hands, frustration and doubt warring within him. This map was his best chance of navigating the cursed forest, but its authenticity was questionable, and the price was absurd. Eighty gold and twenty silver for a flimsy piece of parchment that might not even be accurate? It felt like a cruel joke after all he had gone through.

But the alternative was wandering the Veil blind, with nothing but his instincts to guide him. The thought of spending years lost in the forest, of never finding the artefact, made his stomach twist. The merchant watched him carefully, sensing his hesitation, but Bakugou was too focused on his internal debate to notice. As he reached for his coin pouch, a pink hand halted him from doing so.

Mina crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently as she watched Bakugou wrestle with the decision. The merchant’s smug grin only made her more irritated. Eighty gold and twenty silver for a flimsy map? It was a rip-off, and she wasn’t about to let her friend get swindled.

“Bakugou, we’re not paying that,” she said firmly, stepping forward. She shot a glare at the merchant. Her voice cut through the tension like a blade, drawing the attention of the entire group. “This is daylight robbery, and you know it. We’re leaving.”

Bakugou’s eyes peeked to her before shoving her arm off him. The ever-present scowl on his face tightened. He was not in the mood. “Mina, we need this map. I don’t have time to play around.”

Mina grumbled under her breath, thinking of the possible choices they could make. That is until she takes another good look at the map. She squints at the name, puzzling over each letter. That name scribbled on the map. It's an obviously forged signature of the true creator of the map. But it seems so awfully familiar. The name. Where has she heard it before?

All of the sudden, it clicks in her head. “Thanks for your offer but we’ll have to say no!” Mina stepped in abruptly.

What was she thinking? They needed that map to better their chances of going through the damned forest. Bakugou was about to bark at her but she cut him off. Without waiting for further argument, she grabbed Bakugou’s arm and yanked him away from the counter. “Come on, guys. We’re out of here.”

“What the hell Mina? We needed that map!” Bakugou barked, fighting Mina as she dragged him out of the shop.

Sero was the first to react, a grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold. “Guess that’s that, then,” he said with a shrug, casually following Mina’s lead. He was more amused than anything, enjoying the way Mina took charge. “Gotta admit, it was a pretty steep price for a piece of paper.”

Denki, on the other hand, looked a bit disappointed. “But what if that was the only map?” he protested, jogging to keep up as Mina pulled them out of the shop. “We might have just walked away from our best chance!”

“Or we just saved a ton of money,” Sero countered with a laugh, clapping Denki on the back. “Relax, Denks. We’ll find another way.”

Kirishima looked between Mina and Bakugou, his expression torn. “Mina’s right, Bakugou. That map didn’t even look legit. I know you’re desperate, but we’ve been through worse without needing to pay through the nose for something like that.”

Bakugou’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t resist as Mina practically dragged him out of the merchant’s shop. He hated to admit it, but Kirishima and Mina had a point. The map was overpriced, and there was no guarantee it was even real. Still, the thought of wasting more time searching for another lead made his blood boil. He was a man of action, and every delay felt like another step further from his goal.

Once they were outside, Mina finally let go of his arm and spun around to face the group. “Look, I have a better plan. I know how to get the actual map!” She seemed confident. It raised some eyebrows. What did Mina have up her sleeve to guarantee a rare map?

Bakugou glared at her, his frustration evident, but there was no real anger behind it. “You better be right about this, Mina,” he muttered.

As the group walked away from the merchant, Mina could feel the tension still radiating off Bakugou. She knew how important this quest was to him, but she also knew something that the others didn’t. With a sly smile, she stopped the group and turned to face them.

“I didn’t mention this before because I only just realised it, but I actually know the author behind that map.” Mina began, catching their attention. “I took a good look at that dumb, fake-ass map and recognised the name on the back.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. “You what?”

A few months ago, the others had been busy with their own tasks— Bakugou training with Kirishima, Denki and Sero fooling around in the market— Mina had taken some time to explore the outskirts of a small town they’d passed through. She hadn’t meant to wander too far, but something had drawn her deeper into the woods until she stumbled upon a naturally formed dungeon hidden beneath a thick canopy of trees. The entrance had been nearly invisible, covered in moss and overgrown vines, but she’d caught sight of it and felt an irresistible urge to investigate.

Inside, the air had been cool and damp, the walls of the dungeon shimmering with faint traces of ancient magic. As she ventured further, she heard a weak voice calling for help. Instinctively, she followed the sound until she found a small chamber, where a person was slumped against the wall, barely conscious. Their mana and health were dangerously low, and it was clear they wouldn’t survive much longer without assistance.

Mina had acted quickly, using what little healing magic she knew and offering her own supplies to help the stranger recover. As she worked, she couldn’t help but feel a connection to this mysterious individual, and when they finally regained consciousness, she was shocked to learn their identity. The person she had saved was none other than one of the most renowned cartographers in the land, famous for their unparalleled skill in mapping even the most treacherous and unknown territories.

Grateful for her help, the cartographer had offered Mina a unique artefact as a token of thanks—a small, intricately carved crystal pendant. It glowed with a soft, blue light, and the cartographer explained that it was enchanted to allow them to communicate with Mina at any time, no matter the distance. “You’ve shown kindness when you had no obligation to,” the cartographer had said, placing the pendant in her hand. “If ever you need guidance or help, you need only call, and I will answer.”

Sero whistled, clearly impressed. “You’ve been holding out on us, Mina. That’s one heck of a connection.”

Bakugou’s frustration began to ease as he listened, his interest piqued. “And you think this cartographer can get us a real map of Niniel’s Veil?”

Mina nodded confidently. “Absolutely. If anyone can, it’s her. And since I helped her out, she’ll probably do it for a fraction of what that greedy merchant was asking. Or maybe even for free.”

Bakugou finally let out a sigh, nodding in approval. “Fine. Contact her. But this better work.”

Without wasting any more time, Mina reached into her pouch and pulled out the crystal pendant. It was a small, clear gem that glowed faintly with a soft, bluish light. Holding it in her hand, she whispered a few words, and the crystal began to hum gently, a sign that the connection had been made. The blue light pulsed gently as the magic connected, and soon a voice came through, calm and familiar.

“Your name and what you need?” the voice asked, tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Mina smiled, her fingers tracing the edges of the pendant. “Hey, this is Mina from a few months ago.”

There was a brief pause, then a soft chuckle. “Ah, yes, I do remember you. Calling for a favour?”

Mina nodded, even though the cartographer couldn’t see her. “So, I need a map for Niniel’s Veil. Could you get me that?”

The line went silent, the only sound the faint crackling of magic in the air. Mina’s heart skipped a beat as she waited, anxiety creeping in as the seconds ticked by.

Finally, the voice spoke again, steady and thoughtful. “Where are you currently?”

Mina quickly glanced around at her friends, who were watching her intently. “Oh, um—we’re at the town of Leford.”

There was a pause, then the cartographer’s voice returned, sounding pleased. “How fortunate, I’m in Khela. I’ll go over to Leford tomorrow. Let’s meet, Mina.”

Mina’s face lit up with excitement. “Really? That’s great!” She could hardly believe her luck, and her grip on the pendant tightened in gratitude.

“Don’t mention it,” the cartographer replied, their tone warm and reassuring. “See you then, Mina.”

Mina exhaled, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as the connection faded and the pendant dimmed. She tucked it back under her shirt, looking up at her friends with a triumphant smile.

“Looks like we’re meeting her tomorrow,” she said, her voice brimming with confidence.

Bakugou gave a satisfied nod, and Kirishima patted her on the back, beaming with pride. “You really pulled through, Mina. Thanks.”

Sero grinned and Denki let out a whoop of excitement, the tension from earlier completely dissipated. They had a plan, and thanks to Mina, they were one step closer to finding the path through Niniel’s Veil.

You look down at the pendant in your hand, watching the soft blue glow fade away. The magic within it settles, leaving only the cool touch of the crystal against your skin. You turn back to the view of Khela, the prosperous town sprawling before you, its beauty tinged with the golden light of the setting sun. You had just finished your business here, so Mina's call was perfectly timed.

Niniel’s Veil. The name stirs something deep within you, a mixture of pride and apprehension. Your mind drifts back to that forest, the memories of navigating its treacherous paths still vivid. That place was hell to map— an ever-shifting labyrinth of ancient trees and hidden dangers. It had taken you and your father five long years to chart every inch of it, and even then, the forest had resisted your efforts, as if it had a will of its own.

Being a cartographer wasn’t just a profession for you; it was a legacy, woven into the very fabric of your being. From the moment you turned ten, your father had taken you under his wing, guiding you through countless expeditions, teaching you the secrets of the trade. Every line on a map, every curve and symbol, held a story—a story your father had passed down to you.

Your thoughts shift to Mina’s request. Niniel’s Veil. It’s not a place one simply wanders through with just a map in hand. You know this all too well. The forest was a living entity, a place where the unwary could lose themselves for years, or forever. Sending them in with nothing more than a piece of parchment would be a death sentence. And after what Mina did for you— saving your life when you were at your weakest— there’s no way you could let that happen. Besides that, you knew your principles wouldn’t allow you to abandon them like that.

Your conscience won’t allow it. You owe her more than just a map. You owe her your guidance, your expertise. She and her companions would need more than directions; they’d need someone who knew the forest’s secrets, who could navigate its shifting trails and hidden perils. With a resolute nod, you make up your mind. You’ll be their guide through Niniel’s Veil. But first, you’ll have to convince them to accept your help.

When you arrived at the inn in Leford, you found Mina and her companions huddled around a large wooden table, deep in conversation. Their chatter halted the moment you stepped closer, their eyes flicking to the pendant hanging around your neck—the very one Mina had described to them. You could feel their wariness, especially from the blond barbarian who fixed you with a hard, scrutinising stare, as if he were already imagining how he might take you down if needed.

“So, you must be the cartographer,” Kirishima said with a friendly grin, his dragon-like features softened by his genuine warmth.

Bakugou, however, was more reserved, his sharp eyes sizing you up. “You got the map?” he asked, cutting straight to the point.

You nodded, but before you could reach for your satchel, you raised a hand to pause them. “I do have the map, but… I’m not just here to hand it over.”

That got their attention. Bakugou’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Sero tilted his head curiously. “What do you mean?” Sero asked.

You gave them a small, knowing smile as you pulled up a chair, sitting down without waiting for an invitation. “Are you guys really planning to brave Niniel’s Veil with just a map?”

Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at you. “What’s it to you?”

You chuckled, leaning back casually in your chair. “Everything. That forest is no joke. I know because I’m the one who mapped it. If you think you can just waltz in there with a piece of parchment and come out in one piece, you’re either fools or far too brave for your own good.”

Mina shot Bakugou a look, clearly trying to defuse the tension. “We appreciate the concern, really, but we’ve been through a lot together. We can handle it.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt your abilities,” you said, your tone still light but with an edge of seriousness. “But Niniel’s Veil isn’t like anything you’ve faced before. That forest has a mind of its own. It twists and changes to trap you, to keep you lost. I’ve seen seasoned adventurers disappear there, never to be seen again. And frankly, I’d rather not add your names to that list.”

Denki looked a little nervous at your words, glancing at his friends for reassurance. “So, what are you saying? That we’re doomed?”

“Not doomed,” you replied, waving off his concern with a smirk. “Just…in over your heads. Which is why I’m offering to be your guide.”

Kirishima leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What’s the catch? People don’t just offer to lead groups into dangerous forests for fun.”

You shrugged, pretending to think it over. “Well, I could ask for some gold, but honestly, this is more of a personal matter. I don’t like seeing good people get themselves killed when it can be avoided. Plus, Mina here did save my life, so I figure I owe her one.”

Mina blushed slightly at the mention of her good deed, while Bakugou’s scowl deepened. “We don’t need charity,” he growled.

“Who said anything about charity?” you countered, meeting his glare with a challenging look. “This is about survival. You need someone who knows that forest inside and out. Someone who’s already spent years mapping its every inch. Like I said, you can try it on your own, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

The group exchanged glances, each of them weighing your words. Finally, it was Bakugou who broke the silence, his voice gruff but grudgingly accepting. “Fine. But if you slow us down, you’re on your own.”

You chuckled again, nodding. “Fair enough. Just try to keep up, and we’ll get along just fine.” You could tell your words struck a nerve with Bakugou—no one tells him to keep up. With a smirk, you tossed the rolled-up map across the table to him, watching as he caught it and unrolled the parchment. The group crowded around the map, eager to take a look.

The moment Bakugou spread out the map, the difference was clear. The shoddy, overpriced map the merchant had tried to sell them was nothing compared to this. Your work was meticulous and precise, every detail painstakingly drawn. The map was likely the best they had ever seen, a masterpiece of cartography. Bakugou’s scowl softened as he took in the craftsmanship, a flicker of something like respect in his eyes. He was relieved they hadn’t wasted their gold on that flimsy knock-off.

“Looks like you really know your stuff,” Kirishima commented, impressed, to which you slightly nodded.

Bakugou said nothing, but his silence was telling. His crimson eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, scrutinising every inch of your expression as if trying to find a crack in your resolve. But the map in his hands, its detailed lines and intricate markings, spoke louder than any words could. He might not admit it, but the quality of your work had earned his grudging respect. For someone like him, that was saying something.

With a huff, he rolled the map up and rose from his seat, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. “We’re leaving at first light. Don’t be late,” he grumbled, his tone more of an order than a suggestion. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the stairs leading up to the rooms, his heavy boots thudding with each step.

As Bakugou disappeared from view, the atmosphere around the table shifted. The rest of the group visibly relaxed, the tension that Bakugou’s presence often brought fading away. Kirishima chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t mind him. That’s just how he is. He’s actually a good guy—just takes a while to warm up.”

Sero leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, once you get past the scowl and the growling, he’s practically a teddy bear. A really, really angry teddy bear.” Denki snickered, nodding in agreement. “Just don’t tell him I said that. I like my head attached to my shoulders.”

Mina, ever the peacemaker, smiled warmly at you. “He’s right to be cautious, though. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s just looking out for us. But I’m glad you’re here. I think we’re going to need all the help we can get in Niniel’s Veil.”

You couldn’t help but appreciate their camaraderie, the easy banter and the unspoken trust that bound them together. It was clear that they had faced their fair share of challenges, and the way they talked about Bakugou revealed a depth of loyalty that went beyond mere friendship.

As the conversation flowed, they began sharing stories of their past adventures, tales of battles fought and enemies vanquished, of close calls and hard-won victories. Each story painted a picture of a group that had seen the worst the world had to offer and come out stronger for it. You listened intently, absorbing their words, getting a feel for the dynamics at play.

But amidst the laughter and reminiscing, there was also a word of caution. Kirishima, his expression serious for once, leaned in and said, “Just one thing: Bakugou’s on a mission. It’s personal for him. He won’t tolerate anything—or anyone—that gets in his way. So just…be aware of that.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of what he was saying. They had told you briefly about their journey to Niniel’s Veil. The draconic artefact, the quest they were on—it wasn’t just about survival or adventure for Bakugou. It was about something deeper, something that drove him relentlessly. They didn’t really tell you details. You respected it quietly, not wanting to pry over something private.

Despite the thrill that tingled at the edge of your senses, there was a weight in your chest as you thought about Niniel’s Veil. The forest was no ordinary place—its dangers were real, its curse tangible. Returning there as a guide was a challenge that stirred something deep within you, but it was tempered by the sobering knowledge of what awaited. You knew the risks, the treacherous paths, the way the forest itself seemed to conspire against those who dared enter.

This wasn’t just another expedition. It was a test of survival, a journey where one wrong step could mean the difference between life and death. And yet, you had accepted the responsibility to lead them through it, to navigate the shifting shadows and ancient traps that had claimed countless lives before.

Tomorrow, at first light, the real journey would begin. You steeled yourself for the challenges ahead, knowing full well that what lay beyond the veil was as deadly as it was unknown. But this was your path now, and there was no turning back.

You had long grown accustomed to the early mornings, a discipline hammered into you by your father from a young age. He believed that a cartographer had to rise with the sun, to seize every bit of daylight for the work ahead. Expeditions didn’t wait for anyone, and neither did the maps that needed to be drawn. Over the years, waking before dawn became second nature, ingrained into your very being. So there you were, seated alone at a worn wooden table in the inn’s common room, the first rays of morning light filtering through the dusty windows.

You tore off a piece of buttered bread, savoring the simplicity of the meal as you waited. The inn was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old floorboards or the distant sounds of a town beginning to stir. It was a moment of solitude you had come to appreciate—a calm before the storm that was sure to follow once the others arrived.

Bakugou was the first to appear, his heavy boots thudding down the stairs. You glanced up from your breakfast as he entered the room, surprised to see him pause when he spotted you already seated. It was clear from the flicker in his eyes that he hadn’t expected you to be awake, let alone waiting. There was a brief moment of mutual acknowledgment—him noting your early rise, you noting his surprise.

“Hmph,” he grunted, more to himself than to you as he strode over to the table. “Didn’t think you’d be up before the sun.”

You shrugged, popping a bit of bread into your mouth. “Old habits die hard. Besides, I figured I’d give you lot some extra time to get your beauty sleep.”

Bakugou snorted, dropping into the chair across from you with a scowl. “We’re not here for pleasantries, so don’t think I’ll be impressed by your early wake-up calls.”

“Good,” you replied, leaning back in your chair with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to set any unrealistic expectations. But I’ll warn you—Niniel’s Veil won’t wait for anyone, not even you. Early starts might just save your hide.”

He narrowed his eyes as if he was weighing your words. “Just make sure you don’t slow us down. I’m not in the mood to babysit anyone.”

“Babysit?” you echoed with a laugh. “You’ve got it backward, Bakugou. I’m the one making sure you don’t wander off and get yourselves killed. That forest isn’t going to play nice just because you’re loud and stubborn.”

“Loud and stubborn gets results,” he snapped, but there was an edge of amusement in his tone. “But we’ll see if you’re as good as you say you are.”

You locked eyes with him, the challenge hanging in the air between you. “Oh, I’m good, alright. Just try to keep up.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension taut but strangely invigorating. Then Bakugou huffed, breaking the silence. “Don’t get cocky. We’ll see if you’re still talking like that when we’re deep in that cursed forest.”

You chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “I’ll be fine. Just worry about yourself, barbarian.”

Bakugou leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a grunt. Eyes glaring at you with a shadow of annoyance. “Tch. We’ll see. Sthyarli.”

The word rolled off his tongue with a sharp edge, his tone laced with disdain. It was clear he didn’t expect you to understand it, let alone respond. But you had spent years travelling the continent, picking up languages like a second skin. Draconic, while not your strongest, was one you had made sure to grasp. It was a necessity when mapping regions native to dragonborn. What began as a practical skill soon became a weapon in your arsenal. One you were now thankful for, if only to wipe that smug look off his face.

You scoffed, unimpressed by his attempt to catch you off guard. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

The surprise in his eyes was brief but unmistakable as your retort slipped out in his own tongue. “Tiamash.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening for a moment as the insult sank in. He hadn’t seen that coming, and for a split second, you caught the barest hint of respect mingled with the irritation in his gaze.

“Hmph,” he grunted, his voice low and dangerous. “Careful. You might just bite off more than you can chew.”

You grinned, unfazed. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Bakugou’s lips twitched as if he was fighting back a retort, but instead, he just shook his head, rising from his seat with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Keep running that mouth. Just don’t slow us down.”

As he turned away, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Matching wits with Bakugou might have been risky, but it was also undeniably rewarding. The tension lingered in the air as he stalked off, but it was clear that you had earned a small measure of his respect. There was a sense of mutual understanding between the two of you now—a recognition that while you might not be friends, there was respect born from the knowledge that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy for any of you. And as you sat there, finishing the last of your bread, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps this journey, dangerous as it was, might just be worth it.

next chapter

a/n: thats the first chapter, the next one will come next tuesday !! be ready for the next one @chocogoldie

sthyarli: idiot tiamash: asshole

border credits: @enchanthings & @adornedwithlight

© writingrock 2024 do not copy, translate or repost.