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moonlight-records · 3 months ago

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Favorite Days | Multiple drivers

who's involved?: ln4, cl16, mv33, lh44, op81 & bonus

summary: a glimpse into driver's favorite thing they do with you

warning: fluff. just so much fluff.

fc: n/a

wc: 1.6k

a/n: hi! holiday season is fast upon us and so is my chaotic work schedule! with that my series: playlist series, toto concert series, and rbdhh are going to take longer for me to roll out but i have not forgotten them!

Max loves nothing than being an introvert with you. If Max could have it his way, the two of you would just stay home unless necessary. How could he not? When he’s streaming and takes a moment to turn around and see you on the couch watching TV. Jimmy and Sassy both curled up around you as you lazily pet whichever one is close. The way you’re so invested and silently reacting when you aggressively toss a hand out in shock. When you catch him staring and point to the TV as if he’s been watching the entire time seeing the same shit she is and he can’t help but smile and return to his stream. His favorite was ending stream and immediately going to you. You shift a bit to make room as Max lays on you, hugging your waist and he melts when you run your nails through his hair. How you two could stay like this for hours and be content in each other’s silence. It was pure bliss.

Lando adores game nights with you. He adores how you are so not competitive compared to him for most things. While Lando got really into games, even like Jenga, you were so nonchalant about it. You just smiled and laughed at Lando when he went on his little rants or his little gloats. He knew that you knew it wasn’t that deep. Though his favorite was you two playing ‘Overcooked’. It was the only time you got serious about a game. Suddenly you were calling the shots and now Lando was the one laughing as you yelled at him for forgetting a tomato or something. He almost fell over laughing the next time you two played and you presented two chef hats and told him you were giving him some ‘call out lessons’. Lando got them mixed up which resulted in him screaming from laughter as you gently smacked him with one of the pillows while shouting ‘HAVE I TAUGHT YOU NOTHING?’ It’s his favorite side of you during game night for sure.

Charles enjoys going on side quests with you. Charles really did try to balance his work and home life and he thought that he did well. Yet according to some of his ex’s they can’t handle all these random “side-quests” he takes (though he always made it a point to tell them). Yet, you are the complete opposite of them. You absolutely adored the random side quests Charles got to go on and was ecstatic when you got to join him because that meant more side-quests. You two getting lost to one restaurant and finding a cute ma and pop shop. Sometimes you guys would plan to hit a bar and end up outside, eating ice-cream, just people watching. Sometimes you two would just go out to walk and see where the day would take you guys. You were so easy going and just enjoying quality time with Charles that it was a breath of fresh air that he could be himself.

Lewis loves to spend a night in and cook with you because you always kept it interesting. The first time Lewis had ever cooked with you was in Brazil when he brought you to his house. You had insisted you wanted to help him cook and he let it. He had looked away for two seconds and whipped around to a very small fire starting on the pasta. You two swiftly put it out and Lewis couldn’t help the laugh as you apologize profusely. He reassured you that he is not upset or laughing at you but he’s laughing at the sheer shock of the situation. Lewis thought it was a fluke but realized the longer you two date that this is just you cooking. He found it both amazingly scary but truly enduring at your ability to take a simple dish and create some chaos about it. Though Lewis has now found peace in the chaos and laughter that followed along with the ‘how did you manage this?!’ ‘i don’t know this is a first!’ conversation.

Oscar finds the most mundane things exciting when you’re with him. Shopping his favorite thing to do with you. Typically, Oscar is in and out with the bare necessities for him to survive until another race weekend and only doubles during breaks. Though when you join him, shopping becomes the most interesting thing ever. It always starts with iced coffee and ‘we’re only buying what we need’ though you both know that’s far from the truth. He just happily pushes the cart as you walk up and down every aisle. Stopping to sniff the candles before getting both because it’s a ‘little treat’ and the ‘sale is too good to pass up’ (as if you were paying). He lets you pick out matching pajamas, board games, all the snacks and drinks. Oscar happily pays for everything and helps you load the car up and unload the car before you two are in your own little world for days on end.

Bonus!

Logan loves amusement parks at heart and it was bonus that you also love amusement parks. The two of you always made it a point to see if there was an amusement park nearby the hotel or track when he was in F1 and go check it out. When Logan was let go, he was absolutely devastated and really didn’t want to do anything. Though, when you mention that you’ve never been to Universal, Logan is rolling out of bed rambling bout how his parents had just renewed the family annual passes. Logan seemed to come to life after parking and making his way up the escalator with you and walking into the City Walk. The two of you went into Island’s first to some rides. You deemed the ‘Cat In The Hat’ ride was the weirdest ride you’ve done yet but overall, 9.5/10. You two then hopped over to Hollywood studios where you experienced the joy that is ‘The Mummy’. You two had a dance party in Spongebob’s shop under the pineapple (that you two were a little big for but still fit comfortably) before ending it with some Fat Tuesday’s and Voodoo Donuts. It seems that Logan can never have a bad day when he’s at an amusement park, sharing the joys of memories with you as he steps back, looking at all the photos he paid for from the rides smiling to himself.

Mick loves a good snow day. The days where there’s too much snow so everyone stays home. He loves making a cup of hot chocolate and just looking at the snow enjoying the quiet before you come in and gasp before disappearing. He turns seeing you come out about five minutes later, all bundled up and rushing out the door. Mick is quick to follow, bundling himself up before opening the door and getting a snowball right to the face. Mick shakes his head out before rushing you the best he can. He ends up tackling you, the two of you laughing and rolling in the snow as Nala, the Saint Bernard puppy you two had recently adopted, comes out and jumps around. She tries to eat as much snow as possible which you and Mick try to control so she’s not puking up water. The three of you (really you and Mick with Nala barking for support) make a snowman before Mick ushers you three in. Getting dried off, the three of you cuddle up under a blanket to watch movies.

Arthur loves playing music with you. Typically, Arthur is rather bashful about the music he makes as the imposter syndrome seeps in. Though when it comes to you, Arthur could sit for hours playing. His favorite is when you showed an interest in learning piano. The two of you on the piano bench, he guides your hand to the keys. Arthur rambles on about the keys and gently plays a scale before looking at you. He smiles seeing you try to intimate him, sticking his tongue out. It didn’t sound as fluid as him but you hit all the keys right. He gently places his hands over yours, guiding your hands to play the scale while murmuring about relaxing as you were so tense. It took you about three lessons to finally relax, which Arthur took as a huge win. His favorite is when he’s playing a piece and he glances over, seeing how you watch him with such a proud and loving smile. How your eyes sparkle in awe and how you whisper ‘wow’ as you watch him. He may never release his music to the public but he would gladly play all of them for you.

Toto actually quiet enjoys rainy days. He enjoys waking up to the sound of rain and watching the rain fall while he drinks his morning coffee. Typically, Toto would move as many meetings to Zoom as he could and only go into the office if necessary but there were rare days that he had nothing schedule when he wakes up to a rainy day. Now these days are his favorite because he loves watching you sleepily make coffee in one of his shirt. How you gently cradle your mug and take a sip and sigh in relief. Toto loves watching you shuffle to the living room and pick up your kindle before curling up on the couch. How you look up with a happy but sleepy smile as he sits next to you on the couch with his own coffee in the hand and blanket. Placing the blanket over both of you, Toto moved his arm as you cuddled up into his side. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, he turns the TV on, gently resting his cheek on top of your head as you two spend the morning laying around. Rainy days were truly his favorite.

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solxamber · 1 month ago

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Heartbyul, "for you anything" , comfort pls 🥹🙏🏽 could you please make the character say it? Have a nice day 💜💜💜

i didn't know if you wanted hurt/comfort so I made just fluffy

Light of My Life || Trey Clover

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "For you, anything." ; Genre: Fluff

The door to Trey’s room creaked open, and the two of you stumbled inside like a pair of zombies. Both of you were utterly drained from the day.

"Never… again," Trey muttered, dragging himself to the couch and flopping down like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

You groaned in agreement, tossing your bag onto the floor and collapsing next to him. "I swear, the freshmen are plotting our downfall. Why is it always us?"

"Because no one else has the patience to deal with them," Trey replied, running a hand through his hair. "Do you know how hard it is to stop Ace and Deuce from throwing cake at each other while Cater’s livestreaming? And Riddle’s just in the corner writing his execution list? I had to confiscate a fork as a weapon today."

You snorted. "I spent half the day as NRC’s official delivery mule. ‘Hey, can you bring this to the library?’ ‘Oh, while you’re at it, can you swing by Sam’s shop?’ ‘Hey, Prefect, got a sec?’ Spoiler alert: I didn’t have a sec."

Trey sighed, his head lolling back against the couch. "Rough day."

"Yeah," you agreed, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Can we just… sit here forever?"

There was a pause, and then Trey shifted slightly.

"I’ll make dinner," he said, starting to rise.

You grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. "Trey, no. You’ve been refereeing a food fight all day. Sit down."

He smiled softly, shaking his head. "No way. You deserve it."

"But you’re just as tired as I am!" you protested.

He placed a hand on your cheek, his eyes warm and unwavering. "For you, anything. You’re the light of my life, you know that?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a wave of guilt wash over you. "Trey…"

"Don’t worry about me," he said, his smile widening as he stood up and headed to the kitchen. "Just sit tight. I’ve got this."

You watched him go, feeling simultaneously touched and terrible. It wasn’t long before the delicious scent of your favorite dish began to waft through the air, and you couldn’t help but smile.

When he returned with two plates, you reached out and gently tugged on his sleeve. "Hey. Thank you."

Trey sat down beside you, handing you a plate and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "Always."

As you ate together, the exhaustion of the day began to fade away, replaced by the quiet comfort of each other’s company. Trey might have been tired, but he looked content—his shoulders relaxed, his smile easy.

And as you leaned into him, your plate balanced precariously on your lap, you couldn’t help but think: maybe the chaos was worth it, so long as you had Trey by your side.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #trey clover x reader #trey x reader #trey clover #trey #twst trey #𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 holiday event

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1980shorrorfilm · 2 months ago

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unadulterated yearning

click!!!

pairing…abby anderson x gn!reader

in which…a cruel patrol somehow brings you and your roommate closer together.

before you read…angst with comfort.

such few words have been spoken between you and abby, despite being in her presence a significant amount of the day— every single day.

you weren’t sure what you did to warrant the hostility, and why it hasn’t fleeted within the few months of you replacing her prior roommate. you knew she missed him, abby made it abundantly clear she’d rather have manny back, but you knew her despising you ran deeper than just that.

her one-sided frustration was a lot. it hurt when all you did was grace her with overbearing kindness, to simply be mocked by the woman to her friends. her friends; she wouldn’t let you in the group, leaving you isolated and alone.

you wondered if she spoke behind your back, almost hoping that was the case when they’d give you the cold shoulder, like you had done something wrong. you never thought you did. abby made you feel that way, though.

abby couldn’t seem to find a soft spot for you. all the good things about you, she took issue with, and she would let it be known each time. god forbid you fold a shirt she had thrown on your floor, or decide to do your shared dirty dishes, or open the door for her first. she always found a mistake, a flaw, she searched for it.

you couldn’t win with her. every single try has been a failure, and for some reason, that was a hard thing to accept.

it shouldn’t be— abigail anderson should have no fucking impact on your feelings. but she does, deeply, and right now, as you wake up early for a patrol you originally weren’t scheduled for, all you feel for her is resentment.

it’s entirely her fault, somehow getting her day switched with yours, so you get the shitty shift no one wanted.

you weren’t sure why until you were informed the wlf had some sort of get-together for the holidays, an excuse for a feast and drinks. and you would be excluded from it all, because better you than her, apparently.

you tried not to mind it, truly, you weren’t a bitch about small things like this. if you were annoyed by every little thing abby had done, you might have given up this sanctuary just to be out of her presence utterly.

it’s simply her entitlement that troubles you, the fucking audacity.

“might wanna put on more gear. pretty cold out there,” her voice calls from the other side of the room, where she’s lying comfortably in bed with a book on her chest, eyeing you getting ready to leave. you scoff.

“i’m serious,” she dares to add, though her tone lacks sincerity to you, “wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”

“how thoughtful, abigail.”

she rolls her eyes at the use of her name, a small win for you.

those are the last words you tell her before taking off, leaving abby alone, and feeling alone. it’s odd. she likes when you’re around, to bother you, of course. the cool wind is harsh against the stadium window, a tinge of guilt already hitting her.

but if she could praise you for anything, it’s how much you can endure. nothing here has been easy for you, and yet you’re still here. she pushes you, and you push back. you’d be fine, might even make it back for the last hour of celebrations, making patrol worth it for the sweet reward at the end of the harsh day.

abby was very wrong.

harsh was a kind word to put for the day you had.

the sun is down by the time you arrive back. you’re freezing and bleeding, having skipped the infirmary out of embarrassment. you didn’t want to be a letdown or a burden, especially if abby were to find out how poorly you performed out there; so you’d pretend today was fine.

at least, until you’re locked away safely in your bedroom.

once you are, you turn on the light, letting out a deep sigh you hadn’t known you were keeping in, leaning against the door just so you could stop walking for a split fucking second. that’s when you feel the throbbing on your thigh, eyes drifting to the now crimson-stained makeshift bandage wrapped tightly around it.

you don’t have the energy to change it. you don’t even have the energy to change in general, only peeling off your jacket, and picking up whatever grey sweatshirt was thrown on the floor near you.

you know it’s not yours when you smell the familiar pine scent, the one you associate with abby.

weirdly, it’s incredibly comforting right now. even if she would scold you to not touch her shit when she got back. you really don’t care. you drag your sore feet to your bed, climbing beneath the covers, clinging to the blanket, begging for warmth that seems to refuse your body.

it’s moments later that you hear the door open.

abby enters, a bit buzzed from the party, tripping on your discarded jacket right away. she mutters beneath her breath, picking the piece of clothing up, and walking toward your bed. when she opens her mouth to speak again, it immediately shuts, and she halts her steps.

her gaze fell on you, huddled under your blanket, body shivering even in your sleep.

there’s a strange tug at her chest— both sympathy and guilt stirring deeply inside of her. you’re curled into yourself like a child, and you appear as innocent as one before her. innocent and in pain. left out from the festivities of the night, alone, out there, to come home, and be alone again.

maybe it’s the alcohol, but abby feels like she’s suffering with you, simply by watching your body involuntarily shake.

“y/n?” abby calls out your name softly, closing the gap between her and your bed. you don’t stir at first, not until she repeats your name once more, but even then, you hardly acknowledge her.

you hum, not daring to open your eyes and welcome the light to your corneas.

“you okay?” abby asks, knowing it’s a stupid question with an obvious answer. you don’t think of it as stupid, though, it might be the kindest thing she’s done, checking in on you…are you dying?

“mhm,” you hum again, “just…cold.”

the words come out in an accidental whisper, unsure if she had even heard you. she does, not even questioning her next decision; she had the urge to help you, one she couldn’t shake off or ignore like in other moments where you could’ve used a hand. this is different. she doesn’t know why, but it is.

it’s just a few seconds later that abby had taken her blanket, the comforting weight of it being draped carefully over your body, abby doing her best to cover your head to toe.

the long-going tension between you two doesn’t exist at the moment, abby’s sweet gesture becoming the highlight of this stupid fucking day. she had a heart. and she gave a tiny piece of it to you with the blanket.

“thank you, abby,” your voice is still barely audible, but she catches it, nodding though you couldn’t see her.

the room fell silent again, and abby wasn’t sure if she should walk away, or keep awkwardly watching you from the edge of your bed.

she walks away; only after you stop shaking, soft breathing from your sleeping form. she wonders if it is weird she literally watched you sleep, but her concern is overbearing.

abby crawls into her bed, laying her head on her pillow, and shutting her eyes. your face is the last thing on her mind before drifting off, not the first time this has occurred, but the first time acknowledges it’s not due to the loathing she has felt for you. it’s something else.

the next morning, abby wakes up to the sunlight barely filtering through the window, eyes drifting to the lower half of her body.

her blanket returned, along with yours, an additional warmth that has her dreading the idea of getting up.

especially when she notices you had already left the room, and you weren’t going to be the first face her eyes laid upon…fuck. abby gulps at her thoughts about you.

these now, suddenly, extremely confusing, thoughts. what is this feeling?

#-🐈‍⬛#abby anderson x reader #why is this short .. let me write p2 #abby anderson x gn!reader #abby anderson angst #abby x reader #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson #abby angst #wlw fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #wlw writing #why are you still reading this? do you want me??

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milunalupin · 2 months ago

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— five golden rings

james potter x reader ★ 1.4k words

twelve days of nico-mas masterlist

It was a snowy evening at the Potter household, and the flickering fire in the hearth cast a warm glow across the cozy yet chaotic living room. The group of friends had gathered around a large wooden table, piles of snacks and drinks scattered about, ready for their annual holiday game night. Laughter echoed in the space as everyone settled into their seats, teasing one another about who would be crowned the ultimate winner.

James Potter’s house was big, a sprawling manor on the outskirts of Godric’s Hollow, but tonight, it felt small, filled with the warmth of friendship and the buzz of excitement. His parents were away for the holidays, so the house was all theirs.

James stood next to the table, holding a stack of cards, trying his best not to look nervous. His heart raced, and he stole a glance at you, seated next to Lily on the far side of the table. You were laughing at something Sirius had just said, your eyes sparkling in the firelight. James swallowed hard, trying not to let his cheeks turn red. The Marauders all knew about his feelings for you—hell, they’d been teasing him about it for months—but he hadn’t managed to muster the courage to actually talk to you about it.

Lily caught his glance and raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. She knew, of course, but she wasn’t about to let him off easy. Marlene, seated next to her, leaned over to whisper something in her ear, and the two girls exchanged an amused look. James couldn’t help but feel the heat of their eyes on him, but he quickly tried to distract himself with the cards in his hand.

“Right then,” Sirius said, clapping his hands together, “let’s get this party started, yeah? We’ll start with a round of Exploding Snap and see who has the fastest reflexes.”

James glanced over at you again. You were fiddling with your hair, a quiet, content smile on your face as you chatted with Peter about the dish you'd brought for dinner. He wanted to make you smile more. He’d been daydreaming about ways to make you laugh, but every time he tried to speak to you, his mouth went dry.

“James!” Sirius called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you going to play, or should I just call dibs on the first round?”

“Right, right!” James replied, shaking his head. “I’m in. Let’s go.”

The game began, and almost immediately, it was clear that Marlene and Lily were the most competitive of the group, their eyes locked in intense concentration as they faced off against each other. James, however, couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances at you, trying to act casual as he shuffled the deck of cards.

As the game progressed, James found himself in an unusual position—shifting the cards in his hand, acting as though he was focused on the game, but really, he was just trying to help you. If a card came too close to your hand, he’d nudge it toward you just a bit, without anyone noticing. If the pile of exploding cards in front of you looked like it might get out of hand, James was the first to warn you.

“You’re doing great,” he said quietly, under his breath, as the game reached a fever pitch. “Just don’t touch the card on the left, trust me.”

“I knew I could count on you, Potter,” you said, your tone teasing, but friendly.

James felt his cheeks warm, and he looked away quickly, feigning concentration on his cards. He was so caught up in his own internal battle—should he be so obvious? Did it matter if everyone knew he liked you?—that he almost missed the card that jumped out of the pile and exploded in front of him.

“Merlin’s beard!” he yelped, ducking as the card went off with a loud bang, sending sparks into the air.

The room erupted with laughter. Even Peter couldn’t hold back his giggles as he reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “Nice one, Prongs,” he teased. “I guess that means you’re out for the round.”

James groaned, rubbing his ear, and shot you an apologetic glance. “I swear, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

You just laughed, shaking your head. “It’s all good, James. I think you’ve helped me enough tonight anyway.”

He smiled back at you, his stomach doing flips at the sound of your laughter. As the rounds continued, James found himself increasingly wrapped up in small gestures to help you win, each one carefully subtle—leaning over to fix your cards, tossing you a sweet treat from the kitchen when he thought no one was paying attention, even dropping a little hint about strategy when the other weren’t paying attention. He wasn’t being obvious—at least, he hoped he wasn’t—but he couldn’t help himself.

Finally, after a few more rounds, it came down to the fifth and final game with Marlene, Sirius, Remus, and you left. There would be a prize of 50 galleons for the winner. The group had decided to take a quick break before beginning the finale. James stayed by your side, giving you you an encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry, you’ve got this,” he said quietly, leaning in toward you again.

You shot him a soft grin, one that made his heart race. “Thanks, James,” you said, “I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

James’s mind raced. He wanted to tell you how he felt. Wanted to tell you that the little things he’d been doing all night—helping you with the game, finding excuses to sit near you, passing you bits of food—were all because he couldn’t help it. He liked you. More than he had ever liked anyone. More than he had ever been brave enough to admit.

He looked at Remus out of the corner of his eye, who gave him an encouraging nod. He knew his taller friend was right. If he didn’t do this now, he might regret it forever.

"James?" You glanced up at him, sensing the change in the air. "You okay?"

"Yeah," James managed to say, though his voice came out softer than he intended. "I, uh... actually, I wanted to tell you something. You know, if you’ve got a second."

You looked at him with a warm smile, clearly intrigued.

"You’ve got my full attention, Potter."

James cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. “It’s just… well, I’ve been thinking for a while, and it’s now or never, isn’t it?” He glanced down at the table for a moment, then back up at you, locking eyes with the person who had unknowingly been occupying his thoughts for months. “I like you. A lot. I know I’m not the most... smooth with these things, but I just thought you should know.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, to his surprise, you smiled—the kind of smile that made his heart feel like it was about to jump out of his chest.

“I’m glad you said something, James,” you said, your voice gentle but sure. “Because I like you too. And you’ve been making it pretty obvious all night.”

James blinked, stunned, as the reality of your words sank in. "Wait, really?"

"Really," you confirmed with a soft laugh. "All those little gestures, the way you always look out for me. I wasn’t exactly blind to it, you know."

It felt like the room had faded away, and there was nothing left but the two of you. The warmth from the fire, the laughter of friends, the soft crackling of the hearth—it was all background noise to the quiet, exhilarating moment shared between you and James.

“So, what now?” he asked, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips.

You reached out, placing your hand gently over his. “How about we start by winning this game together?”

James chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in ages. “I think that sounds like a perfect plan.”

Sirius, who had been pretending to mind his own business but clearly listening in, smirked and raised his hands in mock defeat. “Well, I see how it is. James gets the girl, and I’m left here losing fifty galleons. Typical.”

The group laughed together, the atmosphere lighter than ever. But James couldn’t stop smiling—he had finally said what had been on his heart, and it felt like everything had fallen into place.

— taglist ♥︎

@willowlovestheweasleys

#twelve days of nico mas #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #james potter #james potter x reader #james fleamont potter

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misshoneyimhome · 2 months ago

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What’s up buttercups! 🎄✨

We’re slowing things down a bit for something more romantic—at least for a little while 🥰 It’s time for another chapter of Sexy Christmas ☃︎, and this one brings the festive heat with none other than our captain himself, Nico Hischier ❤️🔥

Writing this chapter was an absolute joy. Nico’s charm, vulnerability, and sweet intensity shine in this holiday tale, and I hope it captures all the magic of the season with just the right sprinkle of spice 🌟

Wishing you all a warm and magical holiday filled with love, laughter, and just a bit of passion. 🎁✨

Merry reading, my loves! 💕

➼｡ﾟ

Steamy Christmas Eve Confession - Nico Hischier

During a cosy Christmas Eve dinner, one of them confesses their long-hidden feelings. What starts as an innocent conversation turns into a passionate Christmas confession neither of them expected.

Tropes & warnings: 18+ smut, Nico Hischier x reader, fingering, protected sex (p in v), Christmas eve with Nico's family in the living room.

Word count: 2.3K

The smell of roasted pork and fondue chinoise filled the air, mingling with the soft sounds of Christmas music drifting from the living room. The Hischier home was a picture-perfect holiday scene, with fairy lights twinkling across the walls and a beautifully adorned tree standing proudly in the corner. It was warm, welcoming, and filled with the laughter and chatter of Nico’s family.

This year, Christmas Eve felt different—charged with a quiet intensity that you couldn’t quite place. Nico had invited you to join his family after learning you’d be spending the evening alone, and though you’d hesitated at first, the gentle way he’d taken your hand and said, “It wouldn’t be Christmas without you,” had left you unable to refuse.

Throughout the evening, Nico had barely left your side. His hand brushed yours as he passed you dishes, his laugh echoed warmly when you made a joke, and his eyes lingered on you in ways that left your cheeks flushed. The unspoken tension that had always simmered between you felt magnified, pulling you closer to him even amidst the festive chaos.

Dinner had been filled with stories and teasing, his family’s warmth making you feel like one of them. But as the plates were cleared and everyone settled into the cosy comfort of the living room, Nico leaned toward you, his voice low and private as he said, “Can we talk for a minute?”

You nodded, your heart fluttering as he took your hand and led you down the hallway, away from the soft hum of his family’s conversation. His bedroom was quiet and dimly lit, a sanctuary compared to the lively energy of the rest of the house. The door clicked softly behind you, and when you turned to face him, his expression had shifted—his usual easy confidence replaced by something more vulnerable, more serious.

“I didn’t mean to steal you away,” Nico began, his hands fidgeting slightly at his sides, “but there’s something I’ve been wanting to say. And I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

Your breath caught, the charged energy between you heightening as he took a step closer. “What is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, running a hand through his dark hair, before meeting your gaze. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while—about us. You’re one of the most important people in my life, and I’ve been too scared to say this because I didn’t want to lose what we have. But after tonight, I just can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

Your pulse quickened, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “Nico…” you started, but he shook his head gently, his lips curving into a soft, almost nervous smile.

“I like you,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “More than just a friend. And I have for a long time.”

The air in the room seemed to still, the only sound the faint murmur of Christmas music and laughter drifting down the hall. His gaze searched yours, his eyes filled with hope and a hint of fear as he waited for your response.

For a moment, you were too stunned to speak, your heart pounding as his confession replayed in your mind. Then, slowly, you stepped closer, your hand reaching out to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I’ve liked you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your own feelings. “For so long.”

Relief washed over his face, his smile widening as he closed the small gap between you. “You mean it?” he asked, his tone soft and disbelieving.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his hands came up to cradle your face, his touch warm and grounding. “I mean it,” you said, and before you could say anything more, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was tentative at first, filled with the nervous energy of two people finally crossing a line they’d both been tiptoeing around for years. But as you melted into him, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against him, it deepened into something more. His lips moved with a certainty that made your knees weak, and when he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours, he whispered, “Sorry for waiting so long.”

The room felt warmer, the scent of pf Christmas roast and sweets more vibrant, as you leaned into him, smiling against his lips. “Better late than never.”

The warmth of Nico’s breath lingered against your lips as his forehead rested against yours. The soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the raw emotion in his honey-brown eyes, and the steady beat of his heart echoed in the space between you. His hands, warm and steady, framed your face, his thumbs brushing gently along your cheekbones, as though grounding himself in the reality of the moment.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you like this,” Nico murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine. “To feel you.” His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering for a moment before he leaned in, capturing them in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, but charged with unspoken longing.

Your hands rested around his neck as you pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours in a rhythm that made your knees weaken. His arms moved to circle your waist, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours as the world outside his room seemed to fade away.

His lips left yours, trailing along your jawline until they found the sensitive spot just below your ear. “I want you to be mine,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. His fingers gripped you firmly, his restraint barely holding as he fought the urge to give in completely.

The two of you knew the risk—his family was just down the hall, immersed in holiday cheer—but the pull between you was impossible to resist. This had been building for far too long, and there was no stopping it now. You needed this moment, this release, to finally give in to everything you’d both been holding back.

“Nico… I’m already yours,” you whispered, your voice trembling as your fingers deftly found the buttons of his shirt, eager to feel more of him.

You fumbled slightly in your haste, your need for him outweighing your coordination. He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Let me help.”

With practiced ease, he undid the buttons, shrugging the shirt off and tossing it aside. Your hands roamed over his bare chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle and the soft warmth of his skin. The way his body responded to your touch—the slight hitch in his breath, the way his hands tightened on your waist—sent a surge of confidence through you.

When his hands found the zipper at the back of your dress, he hesitated, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Okay?” he asked, his voice rough but tender.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely audible as you nodded. The soft smile that curved his lips melted your heart as he gently pulled the zipper down, his hands steady as he slid the fabric from your shoulders. The dress pooled at your feet, leaving you standing before him in nothing but your lingerie.

His gaze roamed over you, the admiration in his eyes unmistakable. “Can’t believe I waited this long,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as his hands returned to your waist, his thumbs brushing over the bare skin just above the lace of your underwear.

You reached for his belt, your fingers working quickly to unfasten it and push his jeans down over his hips. The bulge in his boxers pressed against you as he stepped closer, his hands sliding up your back to unhook your bra. The straps slipped from your shoulders, and the garment joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Nico’s hands covered your breasts, his touch reverent yet insistent as his thumbs brushed over your hardened nipples. The sensation sent a spark of pleasure through you, and you gasped softly, your body arching into his touch. His lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, hungrier, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

He guided you backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed, lowering you onto the soft mattress with a care that left you breathless. Crawling a bit backwards, Nico’s body hovered over yours, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your heart race. His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone before continuing their path lower.

When his mouth closed over one of your breasts, his tongue circling your sensitive peak, a soft moan escaped you, your hands tangling in his hair as your body arched toward him. His free hand slid down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. The first brush of his fingers against your core made you gasp, your hips lifting instinctively toward his touch.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as his fingers explored you, stroking with a precision that left you trembling. His lips returned to yours, swallowing your soft cries as his movements grew more deliberate, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with slow, deliberate pressure.

“Nico… please,” you gasped, your body on fire as the tension built, coiling tighter with every touch.

He groaned at your plea, his hand leaving you only long enough to push your underwear down and toss it aside. His boxers followed, leaving him bare before you. When he settled between your thighs, the heat of his skin against yours sent a shiver racing down your spine. Every movement felt deliberate, charged with the weight of unspoken longing that had finally found its release.

“You’re perfect,” Nico murmured, his voice a low rasp as his hand reached for the nightstand. He pulled out a condom, his movements steady and deliberate as he tore it open. His forehead rested against yours, the intimacy of the moment making your breath hitch as he rolled it on, his eyes never leaving yours.

Lining himself up with your entrance, his free hand settled on your hip, his thumb brushing soft circles over your skin. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice filled with both tenderness and restraint, his gaze searching yours for any hesitation.

Your heart raced, your body humming with anticipation as you shook your head. “It’s not too much,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. “It’s perfect.”

Nico’s lips curved into a soft smile, the tension in his body palpable as he began to press into you, his movements slow and careful. The stretch was intense but exquisite, the sensation leaving you breathless as he filled you completely. His groan of pleasure mixed with your soft gasp, the connection between you both deep and electrifying.

He paused for a moment, his forehead still pressed to yours, his lips brushing lightly against your temple. His hands caressed your sides, his touch grounding you as he gave you a moment to adjust. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded, your hands gripping his shoulders as you whispered, “More than okay.”

Encouraged by your response, Nico began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one sending ripples of pleasure through your body. His hands clenched the sheets on either side of you, as he found a rhythm that felt as though it had always been meant for you. The sounds of your mingled breaths and soft moans filled the room, the intimacy between you magnified by the flickering glow of the Christmas lights outside the window.

The way he moved, the way his body fit perfectly against yours, made you feel completely consumed by him. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word of affection deepened the connection between you, the years of unspoken feelings finally given the space to bloom.

When he leaned down to kiss you, it was slow and consuming, his lips capturing yours in a way that made the world outside the room fade into oblivion. The tension between you built steadily, the heat rising as your bodies moved together in perfect synchrony, each touch and shift bringing you closer to the edge. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, his whispered praises mingling with your soft gasps.

“Nico…” you breathed, your voice trembling as the wave of pleasure built inside you, sharp and unrelenting.

“Mmm, yes… baby, yes,” he growled deeply, the sound vibrating through you, making your body arch instinctively into his.

It wasn’t about anything deliberate; it was simply the way your bodies fit together, the way you responded to each other so naturally, so perfectly, that brought you closer and closer to the edge. The rhythm, the connection—it was overwhelming.

“Nico, I’m gonna—” The words barely escaped your lips before the crest hit, the perfect angle of his cock striking that sensitive spot repeatedly, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your climax overtook you, leaving you trembling, your body clenching around him as you cried out his name.

The feeling of your release pulled him into his own, his hips stuttering as his thrusts grew more erratic. A deep, guttural groan escaped him as he followed you over the edge, his body pressing tighter against yours as he spilled into the condom, the intensity leaving him shaking.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your breaths heavy and uneven, mingling in the heated space between you. Nico buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you as though anchoring himself.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, warm and filled with an emotion that made your chest ache. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his lips curving into a soft, boyish smile.

“Merry Christmas, Nico,” you replied, your own smile mirroring his as you brushed a strand of hair from his face, the moment feeling impossibly perfect.

#sexy christmas #18+ smut #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #new jersey devils imagine #nhl hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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imaginedanvrs · 11 months ago

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almost doesn't mean never

masterlist

summary: wanda maximoff x reader. '3 times we almost kissed, 1 time we did' trope

warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of angst

word count: 3.6k

You didn’t comment when Wanda repeatedly took fries out of your bag instead of her own, too enthralled in the story she was telling to notice what she was doing. At one point, she even took a sip from your milkshake and you weren’t sure if that was accidentally or on purpose because she had a habit of continuously trying your food whenever you had any. You would always offer to get her her own portion but she would frantically decline only to take several more sips or bites. You never minded.

“-and the moment we got back Vis already had dinner made for me,” she told you fondly, missing how your smile dropped as promptly as the anchor in your stomach.

“I suppose that was the least he could do,” you said lightly, struggling to hide your disdain for the robot. You would think that after a year of hearing your best friend tell you all about how amazing her boyfriend was that you would get the hang of pretending to like him, or better yet, stop being in love with her. It was never that easy.

“It’s not that simple for him,” Wanda defended with a soft chuckle that even the angels in heaven would have a hard time rivalling. “He has no taste buds,” she said simply. “Your cooking is far superior,” she told you, peering out at the car park and giving you the chance to admire her side profile.

The casual compliment gave you a surge of pride no matter how many times you had heard it before. It felt good to know you had something to offer the Sokovian that Vision couldn’t match, more so when it was something so important to her. You often replayed the memory of the night she was missing Pietro and dropped by your apartment unannounced to find you practising her favourite dish from her home country. It had been hard tracking down all of the ingredients you needed and it was your fourth time doing so when Wanda got to taste it, insisting you had perfected it. You hadn’t believed her until she started crying.

“I could have made something for you tonight,” you pointed out before taking a bite of your burger before Wanda decided to start on that too.

“I just needed grease,” she admitted, peering around the deserted McDonald’s car park. You were parked in the far corner and probably looked super dodgy to any strangers that spotted your car lurking in the blind spot, but Wanda liked to people-watch from the comfort of your car that she spent so much time in. She said that your car was comfier than hers.

“You need a holiday,” you corrected.

“We should take a roadtrip,” she said at once. You immediately loved the idea.

“Where do you want to go?” You asked, willing to take her to wherever came to mind.

“Anywhere,” she admitted, resting her head back to gaze at you with excitement. “I miss spending time with you,” she told you, not having a single clue how much of your days were taken up by you missing her. You didn’t see each other as much as you used to and even when you did get to hang out it wasn’t for as long as you wished. That was partly how you had developed the ritual of going to fast food car parks for your meals, it was convenient in case Wanda was suddenly pulled away. Her job required her to have one foot in her work life at all times.

“Me too,” you said. It was far safer to underplay your feelings.

The Sokovian shifted to the edge of her seat and took her hand comfortably in yours as she often did. You watched as she twirled her fingers around yours, feeling the warmth of the astonishing magic that lay beneath the surface. Her strength was incredible, everyone knew that, but it was the gentleness she coated it with that you had always been in awe of.

“Will this roadtrip be just us?” You asked even though you both knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“Of course,” she muttered, letting her fingertips dance across your palm. “Just us and the road,” she laid on with a smile. That smile made you feel things no platonic best friend should. That smile made you love her. With the way it reached her eyes when it was directed at you, it was too tempting not to pretend like her heart didn’t carry that same devotion to you, that her eyes hadn’t glanced down to your lips as she became just as lost in that fantasy as you. The electricity that charged the small space only existed in your world, because for her, it was saved for him.

The chiming of her ringtone snapped you both out of your separate thoughts and disconnected your hands just as swiftly. You didn’t have to glance over at her phone to know who it was and you shouldn’t have felt a sting when she opted to answer instead of calling him back later.

“Hey, Vis,” she said, voice so tender and yet still striking a blow.

You hated that toaster so much.

The slight murmur of Wanda reciting the lines of the character’s held your attention far greater than the original could ever hope to. She knew every episode of the sitcom by heart and you were pretty sure you were coming close to being able to say the same. She had been quiet that night, caught up in her own head about the events of her latest mission, so hearing her voice at all was a relief.

She had her head resting comfortably on your shoulder so you felt a soft vibration with every mutter of words. You smiled, not daring to move which was easy when she stunned you with her next words.

“I want to quit my job.”

“Oh?” You said casually to her statement you fully supported. You knew she had an incredible role in saving countless lives multiple times a week, but you also weren’t blind to the fact that your best friend didn’t enjoy her job. Unimaginable danger aside, no matter what she did, the public criticised her endlessly and did nothing to ease the gnawing feelings she had that she was a threat to her team and the people she helped. She had come so far in controlling her abilities, but she was only human.

“I won’t,” she said. “I just wish I could.”

“Why don’t you?” You enquired after a pause. Wanda sighed, lifting herself off of your shoulder and bringing her knees up to her chest.

“This place keeps me in check,” she admitted. You hated how she talked about herself.

“You’re not an animal or a criminal, Wanda. And this team has no possession over you. They can’t keep you here, no one can.” Except someone did. Vision was the only reason Wanda really remained on the team. He had convinced her to. But really, as long as he was an Avenger, Wanda would be too. Yet another reason for your disdain for him.

“Yeah,” she sighed, clearly not believing you.

“Wanda,” you prompted. She looked at you. “It’s your life. You can do whatever you want with it.” She still didn’t seem convinced. “If you want to run away, I can cause a distraction,” you told her, finally earning a smile from the brunette.

“I can count on you for anything,” Wanda said simply because it was the one thing she had never doubted. She had doubted her safety as a child. She had doubted Ultron’s intentions. She had doubted her team’s trust in her. She had doubted Vision’s loyalty. But she never doubted you.

“Always,” you assured without a beat. “I’ve got your back.” You wished that could have been enough for the brunette to decide that it was you she would run away with, but it was clear that if Wanda ever did opt to flee, she would take him with her and leave you behind.

“That might put you in danger one day,” she said sadly, letting her anxieties cloud her judgement.

“I don’t care.” You really didn’t. How could you?

She smiled at you softly and pulled your forwards slightly to kiss your forehead. She didn’t linger but her lips left a deeper imprint than she would ever know. You had always wondered what her lips would feel like against your skin and it was even better than you had dared dream.

When she pulled away and left a minute gap between you, there was a split second where you thought she was about to bring her lips to your own. But that moment passed when Vision casually faded through Wanda’s bedroom wall. She had told him countless times not to do that and you had to use all of your willpower not to scream at him to get out.

“My apologies, I didn’t know you had company,” he said but made no effort to turn around. “Good evening, y/n.”

“Vision,” you replied without looking his way.

“You’ve got to knock, Vis,” Wanda chuckled as you subtly placed a couple more inches between you.

“Should I come back?” He enquired.

No. Just keep floating off and never turn back.

“Yeah,” Wanda smiled warmly at him past you.

“That’s okay, I should probably head off anyway,” you excused. You had nothing planned and no work the following day so there was no legitimate reason for you to go. But if you stayed you would have just felt like they were both waiting for you to leave.

“Really?” You missed her surprise and touch of hurt at your sudden shift, watching on as you stood up from the bed to grab your jacket.

“I’ve got some errands to run tomorrow.” Lie. “And it’s getting late.” Not really.

“Okay, but I’ll still see you tomorrow, right?” The hopeful edge in her voice was going to stick with you for a while and you knew you were going to be replaying and over analysing it constantly that night. You had a way of hurting yourself with your optimism more than Wanda hurt you with reality.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you grinned back at her with sudden ease. You were only getting coffee, but there really was very little that would stop you going.

“See you then,” you called as left, purposefully ignoring her mechanical boyfriend.

As far as maid of honours went, you probably weren’t the best.

You didn’t carry the enthusiasm that any of the guests at the wedding did and it proved difficult to maintain your fake smile the entire day. You really were happy for her, your best friend was finally getting married to the love of her life, cementing your role as something far less significant. You just didn’t get it, he wasn’t even human.

The ceremony was nothing short of gorgeous. It was a small reception, Wanda had been adamant that she wanted to keep it intimate despite Tony trying to throw more and more money at the event and add more guests. But it was Wanda’s day, it was her choice.

You had never seen the Sokovian look so happy in her life, or so beautiful. You supposed the two went hand in hand, her joy had always been so warming and infectious that it was impossible not to see the perfection in it. Everything was finally coming together for her, while your world fell apart.

You didn’t acknowledge Natasha when she sat down next to you. As much as it pained you to watch, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the tender slow dance the bride and groom swayed along to. She looked like a Disney Princess, her dress wrapped around her with an elegance you were in awe of.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to come,” Natasha told you. You still didn’t look away.

“I couldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding,” you muttered, barely audible over the gentle music around you.

“Still, it can't be easy when you’re in love with her,” the Russian stated. You noticeably stiffened but didn’t bother to deny the fact. Your heart raced at the confirmation that your feelings weren’t a total secret, but you still knew Natasha well enough to be sure she wouldn’t tell anyone else. “No one else knows,” she assured. “Including Wanda.”

“Maybe this will be what finally makes me move on,” you wished aloud. Natasha didn’t respond, following your gaze to where the dance had come to an end. Most of the guests were beginning to disperse and you planned to do the same soon, you had already stayed longer than you had thought you could be able to.

“Carol’s into you.” You were aware of that, just as you were aware the usually confident Captain was working up the courage to ask you out. It would be good for you if you said yes. Carol was great…

“One lesbian crushing on another that’s in love with her best friend, you guys are hopeless,” Natasha quipped and you gave her your first genuine smile of the evening.

“I know, I know,” you admitted, holding your hands up and chuckling with the redhead. “I should go, see you around, Romanoff.” Natasha waved you off and watched you go with an edge of pity that she knew you would hate. As you reached the door, the redhead noticed Wanda frown in your direction and started after you, swaying in her slightly intoxicated state.

“Y/n,” she called once you were outside and finally alone. You spun around, feeling a pang of guilt that you had been caught leaving her wedding without saying goodbye.

“Hey, sorry. You looked busy and I…” you hadn’t thought of an excuse and you didn’t have the energy to lie to her anyway. “You’re married,” you stated with a shaky exhale that Wanda wouldn’t have missed if she hadn’t had a bottle of champagne to herself.

“I am!” She beamed and suddenly threw her arms around you. You hugged her back with a hesitation you had never given her before, uncomfortable and pained by the feeling of her wedding dress beneath her fingertips. You had swallowed your tears all day, but actually feeling how real it all was threatened to be too much. You just wanted to run home and cry into your pillow.

“I just,” she sighed heavily with bubbling excitement. “I’m so fucking happy right now,” she giggled and finally pulled away. “I love him so much and…” she seemed at a loss for words. You were too.

“I’m really happy for you, Wands,” you told her, ignoring how your throat felt like it was swelling to the size of a balloon. She grinned and hugged you again, holding you flush against her.

“Thanks, y/n. I can't wait for it to be your wedding day.” Her words were as rough as a sucker punch to the gut. Would you even ever have one? Surely. Right?

She barely pulled away to kiss your cheek, letting the alcohol do as it pleased and numb the feeling of your hands twitching around her waist at the act. “I hope he treats you well,” you whispered. Wanda smiled and rubbed your cheek affectionately with her thumb, as though she was about to use it to pull you closer once more. You would never know if she would or not, because you stepped away.

“Goodnight, Wanda,” you smiled, catching one last glance at the ring around her finger that glimmered under the fairy lights strung above you. They were your final reminder that your best friend was getting her happy ever after, because everything had fallen into place.

The moment your back was turned, tears streamed freely down your broken features.

You reread the offer letter for perhaps the seventh time that hour, determined to find some fault with it that you had missed before. Regrettably, you found nothing. It was the perfect promotion. Better pay, better hours, better benefits. There was an apartment available just a short walk from the office and from what you had seen from the online viewing, you couldn’t get a better deal on such an ideal place to live. There wasn’t a single flaw that was reason enough for you to turn it down, except for the fact it was on the other side of the country.

It wasn't that big a deal. People moved away all the time, it was a natural part of advancing with your life. It just meant that you would have to leave your friends behind, that you would have to leave her behind. Again, that wasn’t really a bad thing. Maybe distance was the only thing that was finally going to put an end to your insistent feelings for Wanda, who had been happily married for nearly a year. It could finally cease your reluctant ‘what ifs’.

“I knew you would be here,” she called a second before you heard the car door slam shut. You pocketed your phone and glanced behind you.

Wanda strolled up the cliff side towards you as the wind gently caressed her hair, though it didn’t seem to ease the concern written over her features. “You didn’t answer my texts,” she said as she joined you on the hood of your car and overlooked the vast ocean stretched out beyond the drop just metres ahead of you.

You knew what she was implying, you always answered her texts so she immediately suspected something was wrong. “Girl troubles?” She asked. You scoffed, Carol (sweet as she was) was the least of your concerns. You had only seen each other a handful of times and it felt more like you were hooking up than establishing something with a deeper potential.

“Not exactly,” you told her.

“Then what’s up?” She asked, nudging your shoulder lightly.

“I got a job offer,” you shrugged. Wanda’s eyes widened and she began to grin. Her excitement was infectious.

“That’s what you’re moping about?”

“It’s in California,” you said at once. Wanda’s smile wavered, but she refused to let it visibly disappear when it didn’t change the fact that you had a significant opportunity ahead of you.

“Wow,” was all she could say. “Have you talked to Carol about it?” She asked even though you both knew it didn’t make the least bit of difference to the Captain what part of the country you were in. You could be on the other side of the world and she would still visit you as frequently as she did. It was clear that the Sokovian couldn’t think of anything else to ask, but it still irked you that it was Carol’s opinion she enquired about.

“No, we don’t talk about that stuff,” you dismissed.

“Really? It’s a big deal.” You could see her frowning in your peripheral and it was no secret that Wanda had been trying to get you and the blonde to be something you couldn’t.

“It won’t make a difference to how we hook up,” you huffed, growing agitated at your best friend’s blindness to where your interests truly lied.

“I thought you two were getting closer,” she said slowly, noting your shift.

“Carol and I aren’t going to become anything more, Wanda,” you told her firmly, but she insisted on pushing you further.

“Why?” It was as if she wanted to see you snap and finally admit-

“Because she’s not you!” You exclaimed, feeling a sudden rush come over you as you let all of the lies you had been held back by all those years to finally dissipate. Wanda stared at you, stunned.

“How long?” The question was almost carried away by the breeze.

“Years,” you admitted, no point down playing the truth. It wouldn’t make it any easier.

“Y/n-” she started but you recognised her voice and you knew what was coming.

“Don’t. Please don’t,” you begged, tears brewing in your eyes as you realised this could be your long awaited breaking point in your friendship. It was inevitable. It had been since the first day you met the brunette.

You took in each other’s drastically different emotions, confirming the alternate cross roads you were about to take. But if that was to be the case, you wanted to have at least one small victory to take away. You cupped Wanda’s cheek as she had done to you so many times before, never understanding the burn you had felt at her touch at the time. She understood it then though, because the softness of your hand protected her from the winds that were picking up and made it all the more tempting to follow your lead as you closed the gap between you.

Sometimes in romance novels, they say that the first kiss was better than either of the characters had dreamt of, but that wasn’t the case with your kiss with Wanda. Sure, her lips fit perfectly against your own and yes, the faint taste of strawberry could have made you light headed with a giddy glee. But your kiss was filled with remorse and regret. There was a striking pain to the way your lips moved together and an overwhelming sense of anguish that neither of you would be able to rid yourselves of for quite some time.

Worst of all, that kiss was your unspoken goodbye.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted the chance to feel as lucky as he does,” you told her as you pulled away entirely. Wanda didn’t respond, you didn’t expect her to. She had already given you more than you ever thought possible. So you got off of the hood of your car and Wanda willed herself to do the same, standing back solemnly as you got in the vehicle she would never join you in again. She couldn’t bring herself to watch you drive, nor could you glance back at your best friend in your mirror.

My fault for falling in love with a straight girl.

#marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel angst #gxg marvel

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daily-deliciousness · 1 year ago

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Garlic butter roasted brussels sprouts

#brussels sprouts #garlic butter #garlic #vegetables #food #roasted brussels sprouts #veggies #side dish #roasted vegetables #parmesan #healthy recipes #easy recipes #holiday food #foodporn #delicious #cooking #food photography #foodgasm #recipe

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neferaskingdom · 2 months ago

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♡ Sugar, Spice and Everything Sainz | CS55

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Wanting to make Christmas special for Carlos Y/n is determined to give him a taste of home. But when her thoughtful plans take a disastrous turn, Carlos shows her that the only sweet thing he needs is her.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The kitchen was warm and bustling with activity, the faint hum of Christmas music playing in the background. Carlos leaned casually against the counter, a steaming mug of hot chocolate cradled in his hands, the marshmallows piled so high they threatened to spill over. He wore an easy smile, the kind that made her stomach flutter even after all this time.

Y/n watched him from the other side of the room, her heart swelling with affection—and guilt. For the past week, Carlos had been doing everything he could to make Christmas special for her and her family. He’d taken over the kitchen, filling it with the mouthwatering aroma of Spanish holiday dishes. Her relatives adored him, her younger cousins practically attached to his side as he played board games with them, letting them cheat outrageously just to make them laugh.

And then there was the fact that he’d chosen to be here, with her, instead of flying back to Madrid to spend Christmas with his own family. That decision alone had floored her. She knew how close Carlos was to his parents and sisters; he’d told her all about their holiday traditions, and the thought of him missing out on that for her made her chest tighten.

She needed to do something to show him how much she appreciated him. Something meaningful.

That’s how she’d ended up scrolling through her phone late one night, her eyes locking on a recipe for polvorónes. She remembered how his face lit up when he mentioned them, describing how his mother always made the crumbly almond cookies during the holidays. She’d even called Reyes, his mother, for the recipe, trying not to feel embarrassed as she explained her plan.

“It’s all about love,” Reyes had told her warmly, her voice rich with affection. “Carlos will know you care just by trying, cariño. Just don’t be too hard on yourself if they don’t turn out perfect.”

Perfect, Y/n thought bitterly now, staring at the chaos that had overtaken her once-clean kitchen. She’d underestimated just how bad she was at baking.

“Everything okay in here?” Carlos’s familiar voice rang out from the hallway, making her jump.

She spun around, quickly shoving a charred tray of cookies behind her back. “Fine! Everything’s fine!” she said a little too quickly.

Carlos appeared in the doorway, his dark eyes scanning the room with amused suspicion. Flour covered the counters—and her. A sticky measuring cup was teetering dangerously close to the edge of the table, and the air smelled distinctly... burnt.

“Are you sure?” he asked, suppressing a grin. “It smells like... an accident.”

Y/n glared, trying to look authoritative despite the flour smudged on her face. “I said it’s fine, Carlos. Go sit down or something.”

Instead of obeying, Carlos stepped further into the kitchen, his gaze landing on the tray she was hiding behind her. With the kind of speed she’d come to expect from a Formula 1 driver, he reached around her and plucked it from her hands.

“What is this?” he asked, his lips twitching as he stared at the blackened cookies. “Are these supposed to be polvorónes?”

She groaned, defeated. “I wanted to make them for you,” she admitted, dropping her face into her hands. “A surprise. But I’m horrible at this.”

Carlos’s teasing expression softened immediately. “Why didn’t you ask me for help? You know I love cooking with you.”

“Because it’s for you,” she said, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “I wanted to do it by myself. Now, go away.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Y/n—”

“I mean it!” she said, grabbing a wooden spoon and pointing it at him like a sword. “Go sit down, or... or go charm my grandma again. Just let me do this!”

He hesitated for a moment, looking like he wanted to argue, but then he sighed. “Fine. But I’m not far,” he warned, backing out of the kitchen.

She huffed, brushing stray hair out of her face. “Good. Stay there.”

But the moment he was gone, the pressure of the situation began to creep back in. She tried again, following Reyes’s instructions step by step, but the dough didn’t come together properly. It crumbled in her hands, falling to pieces on the counter. The next batch came out of the oven too dry, and when she cracked an egg for the third batch, the yolk exploded across the counter.

“Ugh!” she groaned, swiping at the mess with a paper towel.

By the time she pulled the final tray out of the oven, her frustration was boiling over. The cookies were completely burned, blackened to the point of no return. In her haste to set the tray down, she brushed her hand against the hot metal.

“Ah!” she yelped, dropping the tray with a loud clang.

Carlos was in the kitchen before she could even think about hiding the evidence. His face was etched with concern as he hurried to her side.

“That’s it,” he said firmly, taking her wrist to inspect her hand. “You’re done.”

“No!” she protested, even as her voice cracked. “I’m not done! I can still—”

“Y/n.” His voice was gentle but resolute. “Look at me.”

Her gaze reluctantly met his, and the tears she’d been holding back spilled over.

“You’re crying,” he said softly, his thumb brushing a tear from her cheek. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I ruined it,” she said, her voice trembling. “I wanted to do something special for you, and now the kitchen is a mess, and the cookies are awful, and—”

Her words broke off into a sob, and she covered her face with her hands.

Carlos didn’t say anything at first; he just pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She buried her face in his chest, her tears dampening the fabric of his sweater.

“Mi amor,” he murmured, his voice filled with warmth. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “Yes, I did. You deserve—”

“It doesn't matter what I deserve,” he interrupted gently, cupping her face in his hands. “You pouring your heart into this is more than enough. It doesn't have to be perfect, Y/n. I don’t need perfect. You didn’t need to do any of this, cariño. But the fact that you put so much effort into it? That’s more than enough for me.”

Her lip trembled, but he smiled, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “But you deserve cookies that don’t taste like charcoal,” she said shakily, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “I wanted it to be special. For you.”

“It is special,” Carlos said firmly. “You made it special the moment you decided to do this. Burned cookies or not, I already feel like the luckiest man alive because you care enough to try.”

Another tear slipped down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb. “Mi vida,” he murmured, “you could burn every batch a hundred times, and it wouldn’t matter. The only thing I need is you, and nothing can change that.”

Her lip quivered as she stared up at him. “You’re just saying that because you feel bad for me.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” he replied, his eyes locking onto hers. Then, with a teasing grin, he added, “But if you want to make it up to me, you could let me teach you how to bake them properly.”

She let out a watery laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he said, pulling her close again.

An hour later, the kitchen was still a mess, but the air smelled amazing. Carlos had taken over, guiding her through each step as they remade the cookies together. They laughed at her earlier disasters, and he sneaked bits of dough into his mouth when he thought she wasn’t looking.

When the first batch of perfect polvorónes came out of the oven, Carlos grabbed one, taking a bite, and groaned dramatically.

“Delicious,” he declared, setting it down and pulling her into his arms. “But you know what’s even sweeter?”

“What?” she asked, rolling her eyes but smiling.

“This,” he said, cupping her face and leaning in. His lips pressed against hers, soft but insistent, pouring every ounce of his affection into the kiss.

When they pulled apart, she felt breathless, her heart racing.

“Merry Christmas, mi vida,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers.

“Merry Christmas, Carlos,” she murmured, her lips curving into a grin as she kissed him again.

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4linos · 2 months ago

Text

takeout and true love.

han jisung x gn!reader

synopsis: jisung’s cooking mistake leads to an unexpected christmas dinner of takeout, but an honest conversation helps clear the air, reminding both of you what truly matters.

wc: 1338

part 4/8 holiday series. 🎄

It had been a long day, filled with both anticipation and unspoken stress. You'd spent hours in the kitchen, carefully planning and cooking the perfect Christmas dinner. You knew how much this meant to both of you, especially Jisung, who had never experienced Christmas in this way before. The idea of making a particular memory for him, the two of you together on this special day, filled your heart with both joy and anxiety.

You had everything planned out, from the appetizers, main dish, and side dishes, all perfectly planned. The main dish was a golden-brown roasted turkey stuffed with herbs and spices and gleaming with a rich glaze that would undoubtedly impress. The table was set, candles flickered, and Christmas music played quietly in the background. You could already envision Jisung's eyes lighting up as he saw the feast you had prepared for him.

But, as excited as you were about the dinner, there was also a sense of stress. You wanted everything to be perfect, and the pressure to get it perfectly began to weigh hard on you. This wasn't just about the food, you realized; it was about showing Jisung how much you cared, how valuable the relationship was to you, and how much you wanted this Christmas to be memorable.

As you worked in the kitchen, Jisung entered, eyes wide and full of eagerness. He smiled, as he often did when he was excited to help, his enthusiasm palpable. “Can I help with anything?” he asked, his voice hopeful. You’d hesitated at first. You loved him, but you also liked doing things yourself, especially when it was something you cared so deeply about.

Still, his persistent offers and puppy-like eyes made you relent.

Maybe this is something we can do together,

you thought, feeling a bit guilty for trying to handle it all on your own.

You assigned him a few easy tasks, but as you continued to juggle the various dishes, you couldn't help but notice that Jisung, despite his best intentions, seemed to be too enthusiastic and careless with things. When it came time for him to help with the turkey, you reminded him to be cautious, this was the main course, after all. But, eager to prove himself, he ignored the time, the heat, and the careful steps you had had mapped out.

And that was when it happened: the smell of burnt meat filled the air, choking out the savory aromas that had once made you feel so proud. You felt your stomach drop. Whipping around, you saw Jisung’s panicked expression as smoke wafted out from the oven. He fumbled with the mitts, pulling out a charred, unrecognizable mess that had once been your perfectly seasoned turkey. It was ruined.

“I—uh—” he stammered, his voice laced with guilt. “I think I turned the wrong knob…”

It wasn't only the food that felt ruined; the entire evening. The stress that had been building up all day suddenly erupted. You couldn't hold it in any longer. All of the little irritations you had been suppressing, the pressure to make everything perfect, and the dread that everything would fail to meet expectations, came rushing out. “Why didn’t you just leave it alone?!” you snapped, “I told you I’d handle it! I’ve been working on this all day, and now it’s completely ruined!”

The words came out sharper than you intended, cutting into him, and the look on his face told you everything. He wasn’t angry. He was just… hurt. You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, his eyes faltering. It was like you’d slapped him without meaning to.

You felt a rush of guilt hit you almost immediately. You knew that this wasn't his fault. He was just trying to help. Instead of recognizing his gesture, you unleashed your frustration and disappointment on him.

Eventually you decided to give up on the ruined dinner completely. There was no purpose in recovering something that couldn't be repaired. You ordered takeout, nothing extravagant, just something to fill the void where a grand dinner should have been. It did not seem right, but it seemed like the only option.

As you both sat in front of the dazzling Christmas lights, the room was now illuminated solely by their soft glow, and the image was distant from what you had imagined. The lights, which should have been the finishing touch, now appeared to mock you. Instead of warmth, they heightened the tension in the air, the discomfort hanging between you two like a heavy curtain. The dinner, while good, didn't give any consolation. It was only a diversion. You could not concentrate on it. The taste of sorrow stayed in your mouth longer than the food did. You felt ashamed of your reaction. This was not the night you had hoped for, and you were aware that you had ruined it.

You couldn’t stay silent anymore. The guilt gnawed at you, and you knew you needed to make things right. This was supposed to be special. You couldn’t let it end on this note.

You turned to him, your heart heavy, and spoke softly. “Jisung… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the day with my attitude. I… I’ve been so stressed trying to make everything perfect, and when it all went wrong, I didn’t know how to handle it. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were just trying to help, and I snapped at you. I feel terrible.”

For a moment, Jisung said nothing. He simply looked at you, his hand laying on the table, fingers nervously tapping. Then he carefully grasped your hand into his. The warmth of his touch caused your heart to throb even more. "It's okay," he said calmly. His voice was soft and compassionate, not angry. He smiled, but it was gentle, mournful, and full of something deeper. "The food isn't important. "You're what makes Christmas special for me."

His words hit you harder than you expected. You had been so caught up in the idea of perfection, in the little details, that you had forgotten the most important thing of all: he was here, with you, and that was enough.

The dinner didn’t need to be perfect for it to be meaningful. What mattered was the time you spent together, the way you cared for each other, and the love you shared.

You realized, suddenly, that everything you had worked so hard for, the flawless meal, the immaculate decorations, the perfect Christmas wasn’t what made the holiday special. It was the connection you had with Jisung. It was the way he showed up for you, even when things weren’t perfect. It was how he loved you, even when you were stressed or frustrated or snapped at him.

“You’re right,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you looked at him. “I got so caught up in trying to make everything perfect that I forgot about what actually matters. I’m sorry for taking it out on you. You make Christmas special, not anything on this table.”

Jisung squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a calming gesture. “And you make my Christmas perfect, no matter what happens.”

Jisung pulled you onto his lap and wrapped you in his arms as the Christmas lights shed a warm glow over the room. "I love you," you said softly, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "I love you, too," he said, laying a kiss on your temple. "Even if you yell at me over burned food." You drew back to swat him lightly, but the laughter that bubbled between you felt like the greatest gift of all. Christmas may not have gone exactly as planned, but as you sat in Jisung's arms, you realized it didn't matter. You already had him, so that was enough.

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