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hyukascampfire · 2 months ago

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GIFT WRAPPING ﹒ ､､ c.sb

it’s a shame that soobin has to work on christmas eve, but coming home to a fire-toasted home and his little family is enough to make up for it. ˒´-

꣑ ࣪˒ 〈 🌰 〉･ 3.4k

ρairings ˒ husband!soobin x reader

ɠ ; smut ˒ fluff

ωarnings ˒ breeding kink, soobin rlly wants to get reader pregnant, lactation kink, general smut, traditional roles, tradwife reader, whiny soobin, breast fondling, mentions of balls cause i know how some people feel abt that, they’re both whiny for each other, soobin’s big, and lmk if i missed anything!

✎୭ ashlynn's note this one’s at the request of my lovely @biteyoubiteme! i love you baby, and could not thank u more for giving me this gift. this was the best gift i could’ve gotten for christmas >.<‘ but yes, since we are always giggling over dad!txt, this one i dedicate to u!!!

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

The best thing you’ve heard today is the jingling of keys at the front door.

Soobin comes through the door with heavy, tired eyes. When the kids come tumbling down the hallway for him, they soften into something warm. Lifting one to pepper kisses over her face, and listening to the other tattle about something that’d happened earlier, his mouth tugs into a gentle smile.

Dusting powdered sugar off your hands, you wait your turn. The scene falls over you like a dryer-warmed blanket. All you three had done today was wait for him to come home. When finally it’s you that he turns to, your heart flickers.

The Christmas tree is up and in a stand, but it’s bare. You didn’t want to decorate it without him, as much as he told you he wouldn’t mind if you and the kids did. It’s not every Christmas eve that he works, but he’d been scheduled this year. You’d spent the whole day rolling out dough and slipping the kids some, even though you knew the sugar would wind them up, just to make the house feel less empty.

And, wind them up it did. You took them outside, bundled up in thick cashmeres and puffy jackets, at one point, hoping they might work some of it out in the fluffy snow that’d fallen fresh on yesterday. It hadn’t worked, but watching them with pink cheeks and giggling was worth the while. Then, the three of you drug snow-wetted feet indoors to defrost, tugging off layers to accept the tingle of warm air against your numb skin.

You wish he was there, too, though.

Soobin reaches up to pull his tie loose from his neck as he comes to give you your greetings. He just manages to get it loose before taking your lips against his.

With his hands steadying you by the hips and the counter at your back, you sigh out a soft breath. Your lips speak of your longing—the both of you. Slow and intimate tugging of lips and soothing, your lashes dust against your cheeks. He tastes like some peppermint candy he’d probably picked up on the way out of the office. Fingers still a bit cold from outside, he brings one hand up and cups your cheek, brushing a thumb up and down the flushed skin there.

He smiles against your mouth and parts from you only to sprinkle sugary kisses over your face. They fall everywhere: a few over your cheeks, one just beside your mouth, and the last to your forehead. He cups your cheeks through each. When he pulls back and you think he’s done, he steals a quick peck for good measure. His hot-chocolate eyes catch yours once he’s done for real, nose crinkling.

“Hi, baby,” he says. Your heart sings listening to his smooth timbre. It resonates through you and brushes down every last frayed nerve. “How did home treat you?”

You reach behind yourself to tug your apron off. It’s a mess of flour and stray buttercream icing. “It’s Christmas eve,” you tell him. That’s answer enough. “How was work? Did you have a good day?” you say, smoothing your hands over the knitted sweater you’d swiped from his drawer. “We missed you.”

His chest is like home against your back as he wraps you up in his frame. “Doesn’t matter; I’m home now. It’s a good day.” He murmurs his words into your hair. “Mmm. You smell good. Are all these cookies for me?”

“You know who they’re for,” you say. The smile on your mouth is light and fluffy, like whipped cream. Sweet. You’d waited all day for this—for him.

His arms encompass you, wrapped across your front like ribbons over a present. You can hear the lazy smile in his words. “Were you baking all day waiting for me, beautiful?”

With the weight and warmth of him against you, you let your head fall back on his chest. You hum. “I missed you so bad,” you say.

“I know,” he says. Pressing a toasty kiss right into your neck where it’s bared to him, he adds, “I missed you too. Wish I was able to spend the whole day with you guys, not paperwork. But, it’s okay. I had my pretty wife here waiting for me.” Toward the tail-end, he hangs sweet suggestion over his words.

Your cheeks go pink. Maybe you’ve got the heater up too high. It’s not usually this hard waiting for him to get home from work. You’ll usually be busy with your own stuff, so that time passes you by fast enough. And then, he’ll come home all tired, and you’ll finally get the kids to sleep and he’ll make slow, sweet love to you, and then the whole household goes quiet as you all knock out. But today... you found yourself missing him more. On Christmas eve, you’re all supposed to be together; spending the day sprawled over the couch with intertwined limbs and running through Christmas classics with bellies full of hot chocolate and candy canes.

But, he’s here now. That’s all you can ask for. A full, content home.

“The kids want to do the tree,” you say, curling your fingers over the warm skin of his forearm where he’s bunched the cuffs of his button-up to his elbows. “They waited very patiently all day.” You drag the word all out, because really... it’d felt just as long to you. Usually, you’d have had your tree up and laced with twinkling lights and ornaments two weeks ago, but you really wanted to wait until you could do it all together.

“Well,” he says, leaving you with one last nip to the column of your neck before dragging himself off you. You miss the security of his arms almost pathetically quick. “Let’s get it decorated, then. Wouldn’t want to make you guys wait any longer.”

Soobin departs to find the tubs of Christmas stuff, and you go to pull the kids from their playing.

You can hardly help the excited little smile that finds its way to your mouth as you do.

❅

The lights on the tree wink at you, a cozy warm white like ice crystals among green pine needles. Its branches dip under the weight of heavier bulbs. Starry silver and Santa red, and even those assorted ornaments that you’d let the kids pick out, shimmer in the low light. It’s serene and familiar, like the Christmases that you can only relive through orange, flickering memories of better times. Your chest aches in the good way, looking at it.

All of you had put your touch to it, but mostly, you’d sat back and watched them all work, committing it to memory so that it might never go spotty—so that you can remember it years down the road, and use it like a dose of soothing balm when you no longer have this.

Now, you and Soobin just sit and admire it. In true Christmas fashion, you two had to wrangle the kids to bed. You raised your brows at them and warned them with the same old things you’d heard on Christmas night: Santa doesn’t stop by the houses of kids who don’t sleep, and he especially doesn’t stop for kids that don’t listen to their parents. That got them, warm in their jammies, dragging their feet to bed. Reluctantly, yes. But it did the job, and now it’s just you two.

Your stomach does an excited flip as, in between his mindless smoothing over your skin, Soobin toys with the waistband of your plaid pajamas. Lifting your head from his chest, you look up at him.

“Baby,” he says, taking that hand up and under your shirt. Running the warm, calloused tips of his fingers up the plane of your belly and then just under your breast, he says, “I missed you...”

Sweet and slow, a familiar hunger kindles between your thighs just at the way he says it. You know when your doting husband needs you. Your heart tugs toward him—you need him just the same. Surrounded by the home you’ve made together, made lovely by the scent of Christmas, and in his safe arms, all you want is him.

You tug yourself up from him and the cushions, sliding yourself over his lap so that your two thighs part around his waist and your heat meets his bulge. He’s hardened there already, strained against the fabric and hard against your clothed cunt even through the layers. Sucking in a breath, he supports the small of your back with two sturdy arms.

“Missed you too, Binnie,” you mumble into his neck. You’d said it a few times already, but you think it still isn’t enough to convey what you feel. His hands come down to cup your ass, digging divots into it and pressing you into soft grinds down onto him a few times. Your skin prickles wherever he goes.

When his hands find their way back to the elastic band of your bottoms, you lift your hips and let him tug them off you. It’s an awkward position, and you have to lend him a little help with those and your panties with a snort. He presses his forehead into your shoulder, laughing too.

At a brush of your bare cunt against his cock as he frees it, stood proud between the space of you and against your belly, your smile gives way to soft gasp. The tip of him weeps with pearly beads from the slit. He takes it into his hand taps it against your bud a few times, his free hand at your back, and relishes in the twitching of your hips above him.

With the warmth of his cock lined up with you, he pushes some of your hair out of your face and says, “Hate having to wait all day to see my pretty girl...” His chocolate eyes dart up and down between the sight of you just about to join bodies and your face.

Sinking down on him, letting yourself feel every inch of him anew, you hum agreement. You nestle him all the way down until the tip of him brushes just before the end of your depth, and then you give your hips a few rolls to let your insides adjust to his cock. Soobin’s big—no matter how many times you take him, it’s still a stretch. He doesn’t mind the wait; he sits patiently for you to adjust each time, running his hands up and down your hips just to touch you.

You dig your knees into the cushions and lift yourself off his cock. You let him slip all the way up until the flared tip of him threatens to pop out, letting the moment linger there for a moment before dropping back down on him. His shoulders take the blunt of your weight as you fuck yourself up and down him. “I...wish you didn’t have to work that stupid job...” Your voice permeates the air, above the crackle of the fireplace and the soft smacks of your skin against his.

His fingers dig into the soft curve of your waist where your shirt bunches. Each time you push yourself up, he helps, the corded muscles of his forearms twisting. It’s an intimate dance that the two of you have practiced and mastered, knowing when to give and to take without even the need for words. “I know,” he says, his voice taut. “But... I’m here now, baby. I’m here now. I’ll give you anything you want.”

Your chest feels full at that. You know he means it; he works so hard for you all. The couch cushions are abrasive against your knees, and your thighs burn with a terrible ache, but all that matters in this moment is how he sucks his lips into his mouth and lets his head fall back into the cushion at his back. He rocks his hips up to try and meet you. Each time you bring yourself down on him in a way that has his brow twitching or eyes screwing shut, you aim to find it again—in all of it, you hope he feels you thanking him.

Lifting his head, he tugs your shirt up to watch your tits bounce along with you. Taking his palm over one, he says, “Fuck—miss when these were all full of milk. All heavy for me...” His thumb rolls a pert nipple. Shuddering around a chill, your chest jumps against his hand.

Rather than controlled drags up and down his cock, you devolve into frantic rutting hips and whines. Each roll—back, forth, and in messy circles—nudges his twitching cock right up against that weak spot. Flame rolls in your belly and your thighs.

When you’d been pregnant, your tits had swollen up to produce milk, and they’d never gone back down. Maybe a bit, but never back to what they’d been before pregnancy. Soobin loved it. Not that he hadn’t been content with your breasts before, but you think it was more that he was fascinated that it was him who did that to you. That he had filled you with his cum, and got you round and pregnant. When you’d first started leaking, it wasn’t even you who’d realized. You had been stood in the kitchen with a flimsy grey shirt tugged over your body. When you looked up to see what your husband was up to, his eyes were all glazed over and heavy on your chest, where your shirt had gone dark and wet around your nipples. Before you could hurry off with reddened cheeks to change, he’d pinned you against the counter by the hips to suckle the mess up himself.

“Baby,” he says, voice coming from his throat a hoarse plead, “Beautiful, please, can you give me something for Christmas? Just one thing?”

Hair on your neck damp, you nod frantically. Around his waist, your thighs twitch with exertion and each blazing brush of his cockhead against your gummy walls. You’d give him anything; you’d already grown two children for him.

“You—gonna let me put another in you? Can I please get you all pregnant again?” he grits out, his hair falling out from its styling and over his rose-dusted cheeks. He looks at you heavy-lidded.

Your cunt squeezes him, an answer before you can even form the words. It does a number on you, the way he says it. Because really, you do think that to Soobin, the greatest gift you could give him is to carry his children and to just continue to love him. It’s no different for you; you want nothing more. “Yes, please... I’ll give you as many as...you want, please, just...”

The entirety of your pleading is not even out of your mouth before he’s pressing a strong arm across your back and laying you under him. The cushions accept your back lovingly.

Soobin takes a moment to situate you two. He drags you down by the hips, closer to him, tugs your shirt fully off to let it flutter to the floor elsewhere, tugging his own off in the same fashion, and he pushes your mess of hair out of your face so that he can better see you. And then, melding the bare, warmed skin of your soft chest to his own hard one, he rolls his cock up into you.

It’s slow and tender, like promises of love baked into each grind. He makes love to you in the form of open-mouthed kisses and puffs of breath fanning out over your skin when a deeper thrust has both of you shaken-limbed. In your ears, hot, he whispers filthy nothings.

“Gonna knock my pretty girl up again,” he pants. “Want—you to go around wearing me, big and round. My wife. You look so pretty pregnant... Fuck..” The skin of his chest brushes up against your hardened nipple each time he fucks himself up to you, his hands everywhere as he can’t find where he wants to hold you most. Eventually, he settles on linking his fingers with yours above your head with one hand, and the other splayed over your belly. Right where your belly might be swollen, were you pregnant once more. “Right here... can’t wait—h-oh, shit. Do you want that, baby? Want to give me another?”

Chest and belly tight, you can only manage a squeak and a nod. Through bleary eyes, you take in his face. The soft and masculine angles of his cheeks and jaw, his sweet brown eyes, his pinched brows... and all you feel is safe. Safe in his arms, safe in his love. His body cages you against the cushion, slung over you and delivering languid strokes, but you don’t feel trapped. Not one bit. In his arms, you feel untouchable. Secure beyond a doubt.

Nowhere else, with nobody else, would you rather build a family.

“Soobin, please,” you whine, welcome tears prickling at the corners of your eyes like snowmelt. “Want it so bad... I want it so bad....” Wrapping your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his lower spine, you urge him deeper.

“Okay,” he says. The smacking of your skin punctures the serene air as he picks up the pace. He lets his head fall into your shoulder, stunted breaths falling out as his belly tenses. “Okay, love. Gonna fuck you full of my cum, n’ keep it in there so I know it takes... shit, gonna give you my cum now, okay?”

Face screwed up, you try and roll yourself to meet him, to chase the tightness in your own belly, but he’s got you. With a few more hot stripes of his tongue over your tits and over your neck, and a few frantic nudges right into that spot he’s so familiar with, you go still and then break into full-body shakes. You press your mouth into his shoulder to obscure the sharp, sweet cry that comes rushing out along with your orgasm, worried about waking your sleeping kids. Your thighs twitch and shudder around him, some deep and innate part of your brain taking over through the fog to make sure he cums well and right into you. Fingers and toes curling and splaying through it, you allow yourself to fully feel the sweetness his cock gifts you with.

You don’t doubt that he’ll get you pregnant, cumming in you. Soobin’s seed is heavy and potent. He could knock you up whenever he pleased; the last two times he’d done it, you were surprised how easily it took. Your insides twist up around him harder.

“Fuck,” he half growls, half whines. “Fuck, fuck... Love you, baby... Love you so much...”

He holds you to the couch, fucking you into it as his heavy balls smack against your bottom. And then, spewing murmured expletives and taking your face into a big hand of his to press frantic kisses to your cheek, his hips stutter.

As promised, he spills his cum right into you, right where he knows it’ll reach your womb and give you just what you want. It’s hot and thick against your gummy walls. He holds you through it, taking your hips in kneading hands to hold you still. When you think he’s done rolling his hips up into you to shoot more ribbons, he grinds harder.

Soobin slumps over you, finally stilling. He does not pull out, nor unplug you, though. He wants to make sure his cum stays right where he wants it. His heart thunders a lovely song against your chest, and yours his. He runs long fingers through your hair mindlessly, the both of you basking in the slow fire as it burns through your veins and leaves you lazy.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he mumbles.

Heart fuller, you hold him closer. “We have so much wrapping to do...” you mumble, trying to blink away your content sleepiness.

He pushes himself off you just to say, “Don’t remind me.” His weight cradles you once more, running appreciative fingertips over your thighs as he says, “Just a little more.”

Who are you to deny him that? You cherish the lines of his face, all soft in the yellowish glow of the tree’s light. Here, in his arms, you let yourself forget about that and anything else but the simple love buzzing in the air.

“Just a little more,” you agree.

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn's note ZOOWEE MAMA!! soobin come over here, let’s recreate this for christmas! pls!

﹙📋﹚ @hmusunoo , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @joycelyjjj , @sunoolver , @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @apeachty , @fandomtrashsblog , @bewitchless , @yezzns2 , @hhoneyhan , @ethystclove , @darkdayelixer , @calumcxke , @biteyoubiteme , @bamgeutsz , @soobabby , @little-shiny-starr , @bambammtori , @bunniebun-posted , @heeambi , @bunnisoobin , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @bakugosbottombitch , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

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moonlightwritingf1 · 2 months ago

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Worthy of You | LN4

❄️ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando rented a cabin in France for Christmas but couldn’t enjoy it when Y/N suddenly left. Desperate, he flew back to England, where she admitted overhearing his doubts about being worthy of her. Lando confessed his love, and Y/N revealed she felt the same but feared rejection.

❄️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❄️ word count ━━━━━━━ 4k

The cabin was nothing short of breathtaking. Nestled in the heart of the French Alps, it seemed straight out of a holiday movie—a sprawling chalet with rustic charm. The exterior was draped in a blanket of snow, the wooden beams of the house warmly contrasting the wintery landscape. Snow-dusted balconies framed sweeping views of the towering peaks outside, their jagged lines stark against the pale sky. Inside, the atmosphere was nothing less than luxurious: vaulted ceilings with exposed timber, a massive stone fireplace crackling with warmth, and furniture covered in soft faux fur throws. Twinkling fairy lights danced around the banisters, casting a soft glow, while the scent of fresh pine from the enormous Christmas tree filled the air, welcoming everyone into its festive embrace.

Lando had rented the cabin for the week leading up to Christmas, hoping to host a cozy retreat for his closest friends. It was supposed to be the perfect escape—a time to unwind, relax, and create new memories. But as he stood in the living room, with the warmth of the fire behind him and an unshakable emptiness in his chest, he felt anything but at ease.

Pacing back and forth, phone in hand, Lando’s jaw was tight with frustration. Y/N had left earlier that day, telling him that she needed to return to London for some "urgent" matter. The words didn’t sit right with him. Something was off, and he couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that she was hiding the real reason.

"She just... left," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his messy curls.

"You’re going to wear a hole in the floor," Max commented from the couch, watching Lando with an amused, yet concerned, expression.

Lando didn’t respond, his eyes glued to his phone. He had already called Y/N three times and sent two messages, all without any reply. Max raised an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen counter with a beer in hand.

"Still no word from her?" Max asked.

Lando shook his head, glancing at the phone in his hand as if it might magically ring with her name. "No. Nothing. She just said she had to leave and that was it."

Max frowned, clearly puzzled. "That doesn’t sound like her."

"Exactly," Lando agreed, frustration lacing his voice. "She was fine this morning—excited, helping decorate the tree and everything. Then out of nowhere, she says she has to go. It’s like she couldn’t wait to leave." He tossed his phone onto the coffee table with a huff, running a hand through his curls again.

Max shrugged, his expression neutral. "Maybe you should wait until she gets back to you instead of spiraling. She’s probably just busy."

But Lando wasn’t convinced. "I can’t wait. Something’s wrong. She looked at me before she left—like there was something she wanted to say but couldn’t. It’s not like her to just leave like that."

Max raised a brow, offering a pointed look. "You sure you didn’t say or do something to upset her?"

Lando scowled, shaking his head. "I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her. One minute everything’s fine, and the next... she’s gone."

Max didn’t press further. Instead, he simply sighed. "Well, maybe give her space. She’ll reach out when she’s ready."

But Lando couldn’t do that. He needed answers now. Without another word, he slipped out of the kitchen and onto the balcony, the chill of the evening air biting at his skin despite his thick coat. Leaning against the railing, he gazed out at the snow-covered mountains, his mind racing with unanswered questions. Y/N had been acting strange lately—distant, quieter than usual. The sudden departure was the final straw. Something didn’t add up.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Y/N sat alone in her London flat, the flickering lights from her modest Christmas tree casting a soft, warm glow in the otherwise quiet room. Outside, the city streets were slick with rain, the muted sounds of traffic filling the silence. Her fingers curled around a steaming mug of tea, but she barely noticed the warmth.

Her phone sat on the coffee table, buzzing intermittently with Lando’s name lighting up the screen. Each time, her heart clenched, and each time, she couldn’t bring herself to pick it up.

She sipped her tea, trying to quiet the storm in her mind, but the memory of that morning wouldn’t leave her. She had been standing in the hallway of the cabin, a box of ornaments in her arms, when she overheard Lando and Max talking in the living room. The words they spoke felt like a punch to her gut.

"I don’t know what to do, mate," Lando’s voice was low, tense.

"What are you talking about?" Max had asked, clearly confused.

"It’s Y/N," Lando admitted, and hearing her name made Y/N freeze, her breath catching in her throat.

"What about her?"

Lando sighed deeply, and Y/N could almost hear the weight of his thoughts. "I care about her more than I should. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I can’t tell her. She’d probably just laugh in my face or—worse—pity me."

Y/N’s heart twisted painfully in her chest.

"You really think she’d react like that?" Max asked, his voice skeptical.

‘’Wouldn’t you?" Lando responded bitterly. "She's amazing, Max. She deserves someone who's not... me. Someone who doesn’t come with all the problems of my life. I don’t know... it’s just complicated.’’

Y/N couldn’t bear it anymore. Hearing Lando doubt himself, and by extension, their connection, had hurt her more than she could explain. She dropped the box of ornaments where it stood and rushed to her room to pack her things, not bothering to tell anyone why she was leaving.

Now, in the solitude of her flat, Y/N replayed his words over and over, trying to make sense of her own emotions. Did she love him? She realized that the answer had been in her heart for months, but she’d been too afraid to face it.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her from her thoughts. Lando’s name flashed across the screen once more. This time, her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating before she tapped it.

She read his message: Please, Y/N. Just let me know you’re okay.

Her heart ached as the words weighed heavily on her. She typed a reply but paused, her fingers trembling. After a deep breath, she hit send:

Y/N: I’m fine. I just needed some time to think.

On the other end, Lando’s phone buzzed once more, and he lunged for it, his heart leaping when he saw her name appear.

"She responded," he said quietly to Max, who gave him an encouraging nod.

Lando opened the message and read it quickly, his brow furrowing with confusion. "She’s fine?" he muttered, feeling unconvinced by her words.

Max leaned over to glance at the screen. "Sounds like she just needs some space."

But Lando wasn’t satisfied. He typed back immediately: Think about what? Did I do something to upset you? Please, Y/N, talk to me.

Back in London, Y/N stared at his message, her chest tightening. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she wasn’t ready to confront her feelings—his or hers. She needed more time.

Lando opened his mouth to argue, but then stopped short. He had spent months hiding his feelings for Y/N, terrified of scaring her off, of ruining the connection they shared. But now, her sudden departure was making him question everything.

"Do you think she knows?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Max frowned. "Knows what?"

"How I feel about her," Lando admitted, his gaze shifting away as if he were ashamed.

Max studied him for a moment before shrugging. "If she does, she hasn’t said anything to me. But maybe that’s the problem—you’ve been waiting for her to figure it out instead of telling her."

Lando’s jaw tightened at the suggestion. "And if I tell her and she doesn’t feel the same?"

"Then at least you’ll know," Max said simply. "But honestly, I think you’re underestimating her."

The next day, Lando couldn’t take it anymore. The cabin, with all its festive decorations and roaring fire, felt too big and too empty without Y/N. With no more time to waste, he grabbed his coat and car keys.

"Where are you going?" Max asked, looking up from his phone.

"London," Lando replied with quiet determination.

It was late afternoon by the time Lando arrived at Y/N’s flat. The crisp winter air stung his skin as he knocked on her door, nervous energy bubbling inside him.

The door opened, and there she was—her expression a mix of surprise and apprehension.

"Lando," she said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"You didn’t answer my calls," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "I needed to see you. I needed to know why you left."

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. The warmth of her flat enveloped him, the scent of cinnamon and pine filling the air. They stood in the living room, the silence between them thick with unspoken words.

"Y/N, talk to me," Lando urged. "Did I do something? Did I say something?"

Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice trembled as she finally spoke. "I heard you, Lando. At the cabin, talking to Max."

His heart sank. "You... heard me?"

She nodded, her voice breaking. "You said you cared about me but couldn’t tell me because you thought I wouldn’t feel the same. That it was too complicated."

Lando closed his eyes in anguish. "Y/N, I didn’t mean for you to hear that."

"But you meant it," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached for her hands. "Of course I meant it. I care about you more than you know. But I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d pity me—or worse, push me away."

Y/N’s tears spilled over, and she wiped them away quickly. "Lando, I could never pity you. And I would never push you away."

His brows furrowed, searching her eyes for understanding. "Then why did you leave?"

"Because I didn’t know how to handle it," she admitted, her voice raw with emotion. "Hearing you doubt yourself—it scared me."

Lando gently took her hands in his, looking deeply into her eyes. "I’ve been scared, too. Scared of losing you, of ruining what we have. But I can’t keep hiding how I feel."

Her breath caught in her throat as his words sank in.

"I love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ve loved you since the moment we met. And if you don’t feel the same, I’ll understand. But I couldn’t let you leave without telling you."

Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him, her heart pounding. "I do feel the same," she whispered. "I’ve been in love with you, too. I just didn’t know how to say it."

A smile spread across his face as relief and joy flooded his chest. Without another word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that."

She smiled through her tears, resting her forehead against his. "I’m sorry for running. I should’ve just talked to you."

Lando held Y/N close, his heart racing as if it were a race day. For months, he’d rehearsed this moment in his mind, but nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming relief and joy that came with hearing her say she loved him too.

"You don’t have to apologize," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I should’ve told you how I felt sooner. I was just too much of a coward to risk losing you."

Y/N pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his with a soft vulnerability. "You’re not a coward, Lando. You’ve been so patient with me, and I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t care."

"You didn’t," he assured her. "I just... I got in my own head. I do that sometimes."

She smiled gently, the tension finally starting to ease. "We’re both pretty good at overthinking, huh?"

"Clearly," he replied with a chuckle, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand. "But maybe we can work on that together?"

Y/N nodded, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I’d like that."

The air between them shifted again, quieter now, but no less intense. Lando’s gaze flickered to her lips, and for a moment, he hesitated.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her response was immediate—a shy but confident nod as she leaned in. Their lips met, soft and tentative at first, but quickly deepened as weeks of unspoken feelings spilled into the kiss. Lando’s hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer, while Y/N’s fingers tangled in his curls.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

"That was worth the wait," Lando said, his voice tinged with humor and awe.

Y/N laughed softly, her cheeks still flushed. "Yeah, it was."

Lando glanced around her cozy flat, the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over everything. "As much as I love this place, it feels like we’re missing out on our cabin Christmas."

Y/N frowned slightly, guilt creeping back in. "I’m sorry for leaving. I ruined the trip for everyone."

"Hey," he said firmly, cupping her face with both hands. "Don’t do that. No one blames you, least of all me. Besides," he added with a teasing smirk, "I rented that ridiculously fancy cabin for selfish reasons."

Her brows furrowed. "Selfish reasons?"

"Yeah," he admitted, leaning in closer. "I was hoping I’d get some time alone with you."

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, and then she laughed, a sound that sent warmth flooding through him. "Well, I guess you got what you wanted in the end."

"Not quite everything," he said, his tone turning serious. "But I’m working on it."

By the following evening, they were back at the cabin. Y/N had been reluctant at first, but Lando insisted, saying he wanted to finish what they’d started.

As the car pulled up to the chalet, Y/N couldn’t help but gasp. Seeing it again, with its snow-covered roof and twinkling lights against the backdrop of the Alps, it felt like stepping into a postcard.

"It’s beautiful," she said softly.

Lando grinned as he grabbed their bags. "Wait until you see it at night."

Inside, the warmth of the fireplace welcomed them, and Y/N felt a wave of nostalgia for the short time she’d spent there.

"I didn’t unpack everything after you left," Lando admitted as he set her bag by the stairs. "Figured you’d be back."

Y/N turned to him, her heart aching at how much faith he’d had in her. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

"Never," he said simply, his eyes locking with hers.

They spent the evening decorating the tree, finishing what they’d started days ago. Lando playfully scolded Y/N for her questionable ornament placement, while she retaliated by draping tinsel over his head.

When the tree was finally done, they sat on the plush rug in front of the fire, a bottle of wine between them.

"This feels nice," Y/N said, her voice soft.

Lando leaned back on his hands, watching her intently. "It feels perfect."

Y/N glanced at him, her cheeks heating under his gaze. "You’re staring again."

"Can’t help it," he said with a small shrug. "You’re kind of my favorite thing to look at."

Her laughter was quiet but genuine. "You’re such a flirt."

"Only with you," he admitted, his tone earnest.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire filling the space. Y/N sipped her wine, her mind wandering back to the moment she overheard him at the cabin.

"Lando?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"When you said it was complicated... What did you mean?"

He exhaled deeply, setting his glass down. "I meant that my life is messy. The travel, the attention, the pressure—it’s not easy, and I didn’t want to drag you into all of that if you weren’t ready. But I realized something after you left."

"What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"That none of it matters if I don’t have you," he said, his eyes shining with sincerity. "You make everything better, Y/N. And I’m done letting fear get in the way of that."

Her chest tightened, and she reached out to take his hand. "I don’t care about the mess, Lando. I just want you."

His smile was soft but filled with relief. "You’ve got me, then."

And as the fire burned low and the snow fell gently outside, they sat together, finally at peace. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

As the evening drew on, the crackling warmth from the fire grew more comforting, and the glow of the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree made the cabin feel like a perfect little world of their own. Lando and Y/N had fallen into a comfortable silence, the soft clink of their wine glasses and the occasional laugh over a shared memory keeping the air light.

Y/N leaned back against the soft rug, feeling the warmth of the fire seeping into her body, and caught herself glancing over at Lando. His attention was on the flames, but there was something different in his expression tonight—a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before. The weight of everything between them—the distance, the confusion, the undeniable connection—had been lifted, and what remained was something new. Something hopeful.

"Lando," she began, her voice just above a whisper, tentative, yet full of curiosity.

He turned toward her, his eyes still soft but intense, always making her heart beat a little faster. "Yeah?"

Y/N swallowed, the words feeling heavy on her tongue, unsure of how to articulate the depth of her thoughts. "I’ve been thinking about everything—the way things unfolded, the way I left, and how much I was running from us… from what was right in front of me."

Lando’s gaze softened even more, and he scooted closer to her, his hand brushing against hers before he stopped, as if asking for permission. She placed her hand in his, lacing their fingers together, the simple touch sending a jolt of warmth through her chest.

"You’re not the only one who was running," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "I think I’ve been too scared of what we could be. Of messing it up. But now… with you here, everything feels right. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t."

Her heart fluttered at his words. "I was scared, too," she admitted softly, gazing into his eyes. "Scared that maybe I was just a distraction for you. That maybe I was too much for you, or that you wouldn’t feel the same. But I don’t want to feel like that anymore."

He smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it was a smile that reached his eyes—gentle, warm, full of promise. "I feel everything for you, Y/N. I just didn’t know how to show it. How to tell you, especially when I thought you might not feel the same."

Y/N looked down at their intertwined hands, feeling a tightness in her chest at the realization of just how much they had both been holding back. "I’m sorry for leaving like I did," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I shouldn’t have run away. I just… I was so overwhelmed."

Lando lifted her chin gently with his fingers, his touch tender as he urged her to meet his gaze. "You don’t need to apologize," he said softly. "What matters now is that we’re here. Together. And we don’t have to hide from what we feel anymore."

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the air thick with the weight of everything they hadn’t said before. There was something sacred about this moment, as though time had slowed, giving them space to let everything they had kept buried come to the surface.

And then, without warning, Y/N felt the rush of emotions she had been holding back for so long. She leaned in slowly, her eyes never leaving his, as if testing the waters, seeing if he would pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, he met her halfway, their lips brushing in a tentative kiss that was soft but filled with an intensity neither of them had expected. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of years of friendship, years of longing, of waiting for the right moment.

But when their lips finally met, it felt like the world had shifted. It wasn’t just about a kiss. It was about all the unspoken words, all the time they had spent pretending they didn’t care, when all along, they had been waiting for this very moment. The kiss deepened, slow and desperate, as though they were both trying to make up for lost time, to erase the doubt and the distance they had allowed to grow between them.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, and neither of them spoke for a while. The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire and the distant howling of the wind outside.

"Everything feels different now," Y/N whispered, her voice full of wonder.

Lando’s lips quirked up in a gentle smile. "Different in a good way?"

She nodded, her fingers tracing the lines of his palm. "In a way that makes everything else feel unimportant. Like nothing else matters but us."

"Yeah," he agreed, the weight of the words settling in. "I’ve spent so much time thinking about the future, about racing, about everything else. But in this moment, with you… I know what really matters. It’s you."

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, her heart swelling with affection. "I’ve been thinking the same thing," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I was scared. But now that we’re here, I’m not afraid anymore."

Lando tilted his head, studying her face with an intensity that sent a rush of heat through her. "So, no more running?"

She shook her head, her smile gentle but full of certainty. "No more running."

Lando leaned in again, his lips capturing hers in another kiss—this one slow, full of everything they had been holding back. There was a tenderness in it, a promise that they would take this slow, that they would learn to navigate whatever was to come together. But more than that, it was a kiss filled with the knowledge that they were finally on the same page, finally together in a way they had always been meant to be.

As they broke apart, Lando reached for the bottle of wine and poured them both another glass, the soft clink of the glasses a gentle reminder that they had come a long way.

Y/N glanced out the window at the snowflakes gently falling from the sky, each one unique and fleeting, just like the moment they were sharing. "It’s beautiful out there," she said softly.

Lando turned to look as well, and for a moment, they were silent again, watching the world outside. But then he turned back to her, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Not as beautiful as you, though," he said with a grin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. "You’re such a flirt."

"Only with you," he replied, his voice low and teasing. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. "And I always will be."

Her heart raced at his words, her body feeling alive with the anticipation of everything that was unfolding between them. She leaned into him again, her lips brushing his, more sure of herself now than she had ever been.

And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of everything—the future, the love they had shared, and the love that was still waiting to be discovered between them.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x y/n #f1 x you #formula one x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #ln4

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months ago

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Idea: Isha thinks Santa is real and is horrified of him because she thinks he doesn’t like her because she never celebrated before as well, she was a kid in the mines.

When decorating time rolls around she’s all pouty and sad until you and Sev confront the poor baby.

this is so fucking funny hahahaehhhaheahe

men and minors dni

it's christmas eve.

your family doesn't do the traditional christmas, especially since your family wasn't even a family this time last year.

you and sevika's usual christmas tradition is a nice homemade meal by the fire, maybe exchanging a few gifts, ending the night in your matching mr. and mrs. claus lingerie (just two santa hat and whatever red underwear you can find.)

but now you've got the girls, so you're trying to get a little more festive.

jinx and isha drug home a fallen pine tree branch a few days ago, decorating it with streamers and paper snowflakes they made themselves.

you and sevika splurged on christmas lights, hanging them on your front porch and lining the walls of your home with the multi-colored twinkles. of course, you've both been hoarding gifts for the girls-- anything and everything you could find that you thought they might enjoy you've piled up in the you and sevika's super secret hiding spot (under the bed) waiting to be wrapped tonight when the girls go to sleep.

it's been fun!

isha's been endlessly enchanted by the sparkly lights lining the streets, she squeals each time she sees a rudolph or snowman decoration, and she's obsessed with all the sweet treats that come around with this time of year. hot chocolate, christmas cookies, candy canes-- isha loves it all.

jinx has been having a wonderful time introducing isha to all the fun traditions that come around with the season. she custom made herself and isha matching stockings (she made you, vi, and sevika stockings too-- but none of them were quite as sparkly and fun as isha's.) she's been referring to the little girl as her 'elf'-- isha always bursts into giggles when she does. and when there's fresh snow-- jinx has been bundling the little girl up and dragging her outside to introduce her to the joys of snowballs and snowmen and snow angels.

so, overall, you've all been feeling pretty jolly.

but... you're starting to get a little worried tonight, because isha's been becoming increasingly restless.

you've got the fire going, christmas music playing on the radio, the four of you sharing a plate of cookies and sipping on eggnog in matching flannel jammies.

isha's frowning down at her feet, a worried furrow in her brow.

jinx is fighting off sleep on the couch, sevika's stoking the fire. you reach out and nudge the little girl's shoulder.

"you okay, baby?" you ask. sevika blinks over at the pair of you concern on her face as she looks at isha.

isha blinks up at you with anxious eyes. what is santa? she signs.

you look at your wife, the two of you having a panicked, telepathic conversation.

should we tell her he's not real? sevika's face reads.

you shrug. she's only five, she deserves at least one year of believing, don't you think? you ask with a quirk of your brow.

sevika sighs and gestures for you to speak. you giggle.

"santa's an old man who lives in the north pole, making toys all year with the help of his elves. on christmas eve, when we're all sleeping, he travels across the world using magic and flying reindeer, leaving presents for well-behaved kiddos just like you!" you explain happily.

only, isha looks horrified.

he comes in our house when we're sleeping!? she signs. sevika chuckles. what if he robs us?

"nah, kid, santa's a jolly old man. he's not a thief. he's been doin' this for hundreds of years and he's i've never heard of anyone getting robbed by santa." sevika says.

isha still looks skeptical. okay... but what about the song? he sees me when i'm sleeping and knows when i'm awake? how?

sevika snorts. "you're awfully smart for a five year old." she says, ruffling her hair. "santa's magic kid, 's how it all works." she explains.

isha hums, kicking her feet and digesting the new information. jinx snorts awake, blinking around and trying to pretend she's been awake the whole time.

what if he doesn't like me? isha signs.

your heart breaks a little, and you wrap your arm around her. "why wouldn't santa like you, kiddo? you're a great little girl. way better than jinx-- and jinx never got coal."

"hey!" jinx protests.

isha giggles a bit, then she frowns again, a tear trailing down her cheek. but... he never left me presents before.

your heart shatters. beside you, sevika lets out a heartbroken whimper.

"oh, isha baby..." you coo, pulling the girl into your lap.

"santa's not real, isha." jinx cuts in. you and sevika gasp and glare at her and she chuckles. "what?! it's true. he's made up, he's a fairy tale-- parents use him to trick little kids into behaving well."

isha sighs in relief. so, if i'm bad ms. baby and big mama will still give me presents? she asks.

you burst into giggles, and beside you sevika cackles.

"'course, kiddo. sevika gave me a holiday present the same year i blew her fuckin' arm off-- there's not much you can do that'll stop 'em from spoiling you from now on." jinx says.

well... shit. now you've got tears in your eyes. you didn't know that about sevika, and it only makes you love her more. you reach out and grab her hand, only to find it shaking a little. she must be just as affected by jinx's words as you are.

it takes you a few seconds to make sure your voice won't wobble before you speak. "alright, speaking of-- the two of you gotta go to your room so me and sev can put your gifts out. try to sleep, please." you say.

jinx giggles and pulls isha in her arms, both of them hugging and kissing you and sevika goodnight before wandering to their room.

the second their door clicks closed, you and sevika are in eachother's arms, crying with gratitude for your girls; the best gift you could've fucking asked for.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #ok i need to know how old u guys were when u figured out the Truth about santa #bc i was depressingly old. i was like 10 and getting in arguments with my friends DEFENDING santa a;slkdjf;alskdj

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celestie0 · 4 months ago

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Hey!! Do you have any ihm headcanons for gojo and y/n?

I honestly love them both so much especially reader. Your writing is amazing

suuure!! i mean they're not like officially in a relationship yet so these will just be kinda random facts about them i supposeee, some separate and some together :0 but i hope they're still interesting haha <33

in holy matriphony headcanons

ᰔ note. for anyone new here, these headcanons are based off of my gojo x reader long fic series called "in holy matriphony"!! header art by @/3-aem

ihm!gojo woodworks in his free time. he’s building a coffee table right now. he passed out in his workshop last weekend because he accidentally inhaled too many wood stain fumes

ihm!gojo already has a college fund set up for his future kids (he started it when he was 26 lmfao)

ihm!gojo on that note is veeery financially responsible (unlike ihm reader hahaha)

ihm!reader only chose nursing for her post undergrad plans because she dressed up as a nurse once for halloween and it drove choso crazy and that’s basically what she ended up rolling with for the rest of her professional career 👍🏼 (a questionable yet relatable decision)

ihm!gojo’s ex-wife, who shall still remain mostly a mystery, is actually someone he’s known since he was four years old (childhood friends to lovers type beat)

ihm!gojo’s favorite weekend pass times are hanging out with juno, taking his boat out to the lake, and watching SNL

ihm!reader secretly really wants to go for a ride on the lake on ihm!gojo’s boat but she’s spent so much time yelling at him for parking it halfway across her driveway curb that she feels like asking would be damage to her ego

ihm!gojo & ihm!reader were actually veeeeeery civil with one another when they first met, like very sweet neighbors, but then obviously things became sour down the line haha

ihm!gojo eats a generally pretty clean diet other than the occasional takeout on a friday. he PIGS out when he’s sold a house though. also, he’s a massive slut for home baked goods especially if they were made just for him. one time juno brought him a plate of (very burnt) chocolate chip cookies and he damn near cried (it’s the thought that counts)

ihm!gojo became a real estate agent fresh out of college but his actual major in college was entirely unrelated to marketing, sales, or business (shall be revealed later)

ihm!reader was voted prom queen not once but twice when she was in high school and she believes that’s when she peaked in life

ihm!gojo gets sent on business trips to foreign countries pretty often by his brokerage firm to assess new housing markets and he always tries to bring back souvenirs for everyone in the neighborhood (except reader because he once brought her a stuffed animal from the airport in taiwan but he saw her throw it away in her garbage bin on trash day :( …she’s so mean sometimes)

whenever ihm!gojo & ihm!reader have arguments over things, they always vent about it to their neighbors in passing, and reader gets so pissed off when neighbors take gojo’s side because she’s literally lived there her whole life and yet they have the audacity to advocate for HIM

ihm!reader holds a lot of resentment towards her father because he was a heavy smoker for the entirety of his marriage to her mom, and so she suspects the reason her mother has cancer in the first place is because of the secondhand smoke

ihm!gojo is obsessed with avocados. he eats avocado toast everyday. and he makes a meaaaaannn bowl of guac. he only has one avocado tree in his backyard right now but he would like to have a whole farm of them someday

ihm!gojo is really social, he loooves to talk to people and get to know them and ask them for their whole life story even if he just met them like two minutes ago lol, but his actual close knit group of friends is only like 3-4ish guys

ihm!gojo gets frequently invited to his clients’ dinner parties, christmas parties, thanksgiving meals, kids birthday parties etc lmfaooo but he often has to politely decline

ihm!reader’s doctor is very concerned for her symptoms of insomnia (due to her abnormal sleeping schedule from nights shifts) because she already has risk factors for alzheimer's from her mother and insomnia only increases that risk

ihm!reader’s favorite store ever is costco. she wants her ashes to be spread across a costco parking lot

a/n. hope u enjoyed :0 much love!!

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narrycherries · 2 months ago

Text

ivy: how’s one to know..

Harry is just an ass and she’s just a stranger.

masterlist // ivy series

word count: 8.6k

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, harry x fem oc, angst

[before you start: i edited this bc i ended up giving her name back to her, it’s no longer (y/n) but of course feel free to read it however you want and change the descriptors to whatever you prefer!]

The holiday season had wrapped up a handful of days ago and things were slowly starting to go back to normal. The sparkling strings of lights decorating neighborhoods and businesses all around the city were being taken down and shoved back in their storage boxes until the last month of the year circled around again. The weather was staying consistent, though. The gloomy overcast skies and chilly wind that whipped through the streets were enough to keep people bundled up and wishing for spring to arrive.

Most people she knew enjoyed the holidays a lot more than she did. Sure, she loved to see the colorful lights lining roofs and windows of boutiques and restaurants along the main strip. There was something so juvenile, so innocent about the giddy feeling that would fill her stomach as she saw a pile of fake presents and a decorated tree in a shop window. Somewhere deep down inside of her heart, she still had that spark that a child would have.

When she was growing up, she sought happiness during the holidays by admiring other people’s outdoor decorations or gazing in awe at the displays put up in her schools. She didn’t have what most people had that she went to school with, but she tried to be grateful, even as a young chlid, and appreciate what surrounded her.

A strong sadness was building in her chest as she slid the ceramic Santa Claus into his box to pack him away with the other Christmas decorations. She thought about the many years she questioned if Santa was real. There were so many nights when she’d squeeze her eyes shut and whisper out loud, her knees on the floor as she put her elbows into the mattress. There was so much hope in her. She believed that if she wished and prayed and dreamed enough, Santa would leave a present or two on the coffee table next to her dad’s stained coffee mug. There wasn’t a tree most of the years of her childhood, but her dad give gift her things (there was no magical Santa though). There were no twinkling lights outside of her window, hanging down from the roof with a clumsy droop. There were no ornaments to place on the branches of a fake tree, lined with a dusty skirt that would be covered with presents. There were no fresh baked cookies and steaming hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. The television never displayed joyful Christmas movies and specials. The radio on the kitchen counter never once sang a tune of a wintery song about snow and ice. No, none of that. It was just her dad, her brother, and herself for a while.

“Did you keep the box for this guy?” Emma’s curious voice snapped her from her trance.

She cleared her throat and looked up from her spot on the living room rug. Her ‘new’ roommate was holding a ceramic snowman who’s decorated style matched the Santa she just put away. She reached into the plastic storage container and grabbed the box, passing it up to Emma.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, Ivy.” She smiled back, noticing that there was a glimmer of disappoint on her face, but she didn’t mention it to her. “You didn’t have to put everything away so fast. I would’ve been fine with it for a few more weeks.”

Emma had just moved in before Christmas. Her things were half way unpacked throughout the small house they now shared.

“I didn’t want it to crowd you. Besides, Christmas is over.” Ivy’s tone was partially rough as she began to pack away the miniature houses placed across the console table that the television hung above.

“I’m so excited to actually be here, like, full time. Niall’s a bit upset.. but I told him he’d survive.” She said with a laugh as she started to collect the small figurines that went with the village.

“I’m excited, too. I’m glad you’re actually up for decorating the space and not just.. letting me do it all. My last roommate was not particularly outgoing.” Ivy snickered at the thought, knowing she wouldn’t be missing that person at all. The girl was nice and all, but she was quite boring.

“Oh, totally! I’ve already got some stuff I want to show you in my room. Maybe we could put it out here or something.”

“I’m fine with anything as long as it’s cute.” She shot her friend a grin.

Emma wasn’t a new friend by any means. They met early on while they were both at university. Emma was actually her first partner for a project in one of their biology classes. They met on the third day of class and became friends very quickly. Their chemistry went far beyond the confines of the science lab. Emma was joyful and adventurous and offered Ivy that motivating spark to actually go out and have fun. Not that Ivy couldn’t match Emma’s energy once her veins were filled with alcohol, she just didn’t go out as much.

“Speaking of Niall, I haven’t seen him a while. How’s he doing?”

A proud smile crept to Emma’s lips. “He’s been good. But he’s been super busy with the store.. almost never get to spend time during the actual day with him.”

“But it’s going well, the store, I mean? Like he’s having success?”

Emma nodded. “It’s been great. I told him it would do good around here, especially with the college students. And besides, people are always looking for music lessons. I’m glad he took my advice and decided to offer those through the business.”

Niall was an excellent musician, or so Ivy has been told. She hadn’t actually seen him play anything in person, only through recordings and videos Emma had shown her. She knew Niall was talented, though. He played the guitar and the bass, both of which seemed entirely too complicated in Ivy’s mind. When they started dating last year, Niall was in the midst of finalizing a business plan and opening his music store. Emma told her all about it, including her fears and anxiety about the situation - but only because she was afraid Niall would get so caught up in the store that he would abandon their relationship. Niall ended up not doing that, obviously, and was able to balance everything in his life. He and Emma would be celebrating their one year anniversary on Valentine’s Day - which Ivy thought was particularly sweet and romantic.

“I’m glad everything’s working out.”

The store opened back in the summer, and Ivy had only gone by once to see the place. It was in a part of town she didn’t frequent very often, so the opportunity to casually stroll in was rare. It wasn’t like it was Emma’s store. While she did know Niall well enough to refer to him as a friend, she wasn’t close with him. She was supportive, of course, but not overly involved.

“He’s coming by later to help me put together the dresser. Well.. he’s going to do it for me, not help me.” She snickered as she joined Ivy on the floor to start gently laying the mini figurines in a small cardboard box they knew as home.

“I can make dinner if you’d like. Niall likes that pasta I make, right?”

“Yeah! He actually asked me about that a few weeks ago. He said I have to get your recipe.” She grinned back, rolling her eyes at the thought of her boyfriend’s obsession with food.

“He’s only had it like twice.. but it’s flattering to know I’m such a good chef.” Ivy laughed under her breath. “I’ll give you the recipe.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent on putting away the last of the decorations and moving them into the hallway closet. The box fit perfectly in the bottom of the closet. Emma disappeared into her room to continue unboxing her belongings. Ivy was mostly occupied with dusting the wood furniture and wiping down the kitchen. She liked a neat, tidy home and she was very glad to know that Emma did as well. She checked the cabinets to make sure she had the ingredients required for the pasta she’ll be making later on.

Every now and then, she’d hear a crash of something hitting the floor come from the hallway, presumably from Emma’s room. She would just giggle to herself as Emma’s dramatic cries of curses and sighs would fill the small home. Despite being friends for a handful of years, they had never lived in the same space before. Even while at university when it was mandatory for them to live on campus, they lived in different dorm buildings. Emma was in a sorority and definitely more comfortable with herself than Ivy was. She kept to her small dorm with her roommate, whom she didn’t have anything in common with but she was kind to her. If she were being honest, she thought Emma would try to move in with Niall once her old lease had expired. But, Niall was comfortable where he was in his apartment and he already had a roommate. As much as Emma wanted to live with him, it was just too soon anyway. They tossed around the idea, but Ivy mentioned to her that perhaps she needed to wait, just in case. Niall wasn’t upset with Emma’s decision to move elsewhere, as long as she was in the city close to him. Ivy was also informed that Niall’s roommate wasn’t too keen on letting someone else share their space. She had never met him before, didn’t even know his name, but she couldn’t blame them. She wouldn’t want her house to be permanently crowded either. Niall let Emma stay over there a lot, though, but spending the night for the weekend or on a random weekday when it was too late to drive back home was different than staying full time. And of course, Niall was allowed over whenever he wanted and she made that clear to Emma before she signed the lease. As long as he respected their home and didn’t leave a mess behind, he was welcomed.

A gentle sigh slipped past her thick lips as she trailed back to the living room. The open concept of the front of the home meant the living room was attached to the kitchen with no barrier other than the island. She sat down on the end of the couch, the damp kitchen towel she used to wipe down the furniture sat on the side table. She picked it up, along with the framed photo that was next to the pretty gold lamp. The gold of the frame didn’t quite match the lamp, but it was still beautiful to her. The ornate metal that decorated the frame was cold as she carefully rubbed the pads of her fingers over it. She stared at the photograph locked behind the glass, the speed of her heart beating increased only slightly.

The image was of her and her mother when she was around three years old. It was Halloween, she was dressed in a pink dress that was modeled after Princess Aurora, and her hair was curled and a little makeup playfully swept over her features. Her mother was dressed in a Cinderella themed costume, her matching golden blonde hair curled, too, and pinned up. It wasn’t the last holiday they spent together, but it was one of the only ones Ivy remembered. She doubted herself at times about the memory - she was only three and a half, did she actually remember it or was she imagining it? Despite always doubting herself, she knew too well that the memory was burned into her brain. She can remember the smell of the burning iron as her mom curled her hair. She remembers getting tickled by the fluffy makeup brush as a bit was applied to her face just to add to the illusion. She remembers the taste of the mini chocolate bar her mom unwrapped for her in the car in between neighborhoods - the night was full of trick or treating and giggles and squeals. She even remembered the way her mom’s hand carefully adjusted her curls when they got caught in the zip of Ivy’s costume. It was a memory she held dear to her heart, one she prayed she’d never lose. Ivy had always tried her hardest to find things to fill in the void of not having her mother around. But no matter how determined she was, nothing ever seemed to be enough. She found joy in little things, like collecting whatnots and trinkets that reminded her of the ones that littered her house when her mom was alive. She enjoyed searching for squirrels and birds in the park, collecting odd looking rocks during her walks, listening to her favorite songs on repeat, and a plethora of other things. But nothing could really fill the space in her heart.. It was quite a big space, after all.

That evening, after the sun nestled below the horizon and stars littered the dark winter sky, Emma invited Niall over for dinner. It was third day of actually staying here, since she opted to spend two weeks with Niall for Christmas between her parent’s place and his. Ivy was working on preparing the ingridents for the pasta when Niall knocked and was let in with a grinning Emma planting a kiss to his mouth. He laughed and brushed her off, not a big fan of showing affection in front of other people, even though he knew Ivy wasn’t watching.

“Hey, long time no see!” Niall said with a smile as he followed Emma into the kitchen.

Ivy’s eyes glanced over her shoulder. “Hi, Niall. It’s been a while, yeah?”

“I think you guys haven’t seen each other since the day we moved my crap in.” Emma said with a slight unsure tone.

“Your crap that still isn’t unpacked.” Niall sighed as he leaned against the counter, his arms crossing on his chest.

Ivy chuckled to herself as Emma began to give him excuses for why her things weren’t put away and in their new spots yet. The list included things like being busy with work, having errands to run, and of course ‘spending all my time with you’ that made Niall smack his lips and give her a sarcastic ‘okay, sure’.

They kept up their banter for a bit while (Y/n) rinsed her hands at the sink. She had finished everything she needed to do before actually cooking the food. When she turned towards them, Niall was peering his eyes into the pot of boiling water, frowning as he saw it was empty.

“She’s making the pasta you said you like.” Emma said as she grabbed his forearm to tug him away from the oven.

“Oh, really? That stuff was so good.” Niall’s eyes shot to Ivy’s. “I want a whole pot of it for my birthday, please and thanks.”

She shook her head in disbelief as a laugh rolled out of her mouth. “Isn’t your birthday in September?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just don’t want ya to forget.”

“C’mon, let's start with the dresser, Niall. Let Ivy cook.” Emma said after checking the time on her phone. “We’ll clean up the kitchen after dinner, okay? Don’t worry about it!”

“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll let you know when it's done.”

And just like that, she was alone in the kitchen again. It didn’t bother her to be alone, she had been for most of her life, especially her late teenage and adult years. Finding something to occupy her bored mind was not a new task for her to learn. She opted for sitting at the small dining table after setting the timer on the oven in case she forgot to check the time.

Ivy pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweatpants and started to maneuver through the notifications that had come through since she last checked. One was a message from a random company that was offering a sale this coming weekend, there were two texts from Niall - the first asking if he needed to bring anything, the second saying Emma told him not to and to just ignore the text - the rest were random notifications from different apps.

Her attention went to her photo app as she scrolled to a few days ago, just a day or so after the New Year began. She went for a walk in the park close by one day during lunch when she had nothing else to do. She snapped a few photos of little random things, like a wild flower that had somehow managed to survive the low temperature, a bird that was perched on top of the black metal fence that lined the park, and a snapshot of the sky with the clouds parting in such a way that made it look like heaven. After having lost so much in life, she learned and forced herself to appreciate the little things that were around. Details of daily life, like the fall of a leaf to the ground or the chirp of a bird in a tree, were almost therapeutic for her.

Dinner didn’t take too long to cook, but the dresser was seeming to take much longer than Emma had expected it to. When Ivy knocked on the bedroom door and stuck her head in, she grinned as she saw Niall sitting on the floor with his head thrown back and Emma pacing the room with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Her once neatly fixed dark hair was messily tied in a bun on the back of her head. The instruction booklet for the dresser was laid out in between Niall’s legs, along with a torn bag of hardwear.

“Food’s ready.” She said with a singsong voice that made Niall pop his head up.

“Finally.” He quickly rose to his feet and grabbed Emma’s wrist, tugging her behind him as they followed Ivy down the hall and towards the kitchen.

“Eat as much as you want, I made plenty.” She said as she let them make a bowl first.

“Don’t have to tell him twice.” Emma’s mouth shaped to a smile as Niall practically pushed her aside to be first.

“Guests eat first, right?” He joked as he gave them both a quick glance, a smirk on his face as he grabbed the serving utensil.

Once the three of them had fixed what they wanted and claimed a spot at the table, Ivy offered to grab everyone something to drink. Emma and herself chose a glass of ice water while Niall requested a Coke. Emma had just brought home a box this morning after her quick run to the grocery store. The food appeared to be a big hit as Niall scarfed it down, spitting out compliments and satisfied hums that made the girls giggle and roll their eyes jokingly at him.

“Em told me the store is doing great.”

Niall nodded as he sipped his drink. “Yeah, it’s been good, actually. I’m glad.”

“I’m glad you do the lessons. I told her that people are coming in pretty much all day long.” Emma said.

“Yeah, if it’s not someone who’s into music already or just curiously out shopping.. The sign about the lessons really brings people in. And even if they don’t go through with it, they end up looking around and finding something.” Niall told them with a pleased smile, he was relieved his business was staying crowded and people actually enjoyed coming to the store.

“Did you end up finding someone to teach the guitar lessons? I know Emma said something about you were looking for someone else, since you got so busy with your bookings.”

“Yeah, my roommate actually. He’s decent at guitar and he’s just working with the beginners. I’m sticking to the people who sorta know how to play around that just wanna get better.”

Ivy nodded as she took another bite. “That’s good.”

The cooking had made the kitchen a bit warmer than it was before, so she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. The exposure of the small tattoo on the inside of Ivy’s elbow caught Emma’s eye.

“Oh!” She chirped suddenly, making Niall flinch. “I forgot to tell you, Ivy, I’m getting a tattoo in a few weeks. Already got my appointment.”

“Oh, really? Where at this time?” Ivy asked with genuine curiosity.

“On my foot. Just a cute little flower. Niall says it's going to hurt.”

Ivy squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. “You don’t have any, do you?”

Niall chuckled. “No, but I’ve been told the foot is terrible.”

“I’m not a baby, Niall. It’s not my first one. Besides, Zayn said it would be fine since I’m used to the feeling.”

“Zayn is lying to you to spare your feelings and get your money. He is my friend, I think I'd know when he lies.” Niall was only teasing her, but it brought a flush to Emma’s cheeks.

“Shut up.” She mumbled through a pout.

Ivy was amused by their interaction, but she chose to move on with the conversation so Emma wouldn’t get too sensitive. She wasn’t over emotional or anything, but sometimes she would get embarrassed if Niall playfully taunted her in front of other people.

“Zayn.. is that the guy I met that time at the bar?” Ivy couldn’t remember the person’s name, but she was sort of sure that it was the same person they’re referring to.

Niall nodded to her. “Yeah. The one with all the tattoos.. I would say the one with the black hair but right now it’s platinum blonde.” The lift of Niall’s brows made her think that maybe he didn’t approve of the look, but he had no choice but to accept it.

“I thought that was the same guy. I’m pretty sure he told me he owned a shop.”

“He’s the best around.” Emma said with a laugh. “Plus.. he gives me a discount.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Niall puckered his lips and leaned her direction, demanding a kiss that he knew he wouldn’t get.

“Hush.” She pushed her fingers to his mouth and gently shoved his head back.

He laughed at her reaction. “Just saying, Em. He’s my friend.. like I said before.”

Emma ignored him and turned her eyes to Ivy. “Anyway, Niall can’t come with me.. so I was going to see if you wanted to go.”

“I can see if I can.. just let me know the date and time.”

“Alright. I will. Niall, don’t be a pig.” She groaned as she saw he had slipped from the table and was at the stove, piling his bowl full again.

“Let him eat it. That way we won’t have to worry about leftovers.”

Emma shook her head. “He’d eat the actual house if you’d let him.”

—•—

Ivy was puckering her lips in the mirror of the car visor as she applied her lip balm. It was chilly outside and the weather wasn’t being kind to her skin at all. She huffed as she saw the patch of dry skin right in the middle of her forehead. She had just applied her moisturizer before they loaded in the car to drive to the tattoo shop. Emma was driving, and every now and then she’d glance Ivy’s way and notice she was still staring in the mirror.

“What’s the matter?” She finally asked as Ivy slid the cover over the mirror and flipped the visor up, her back hitting the seat as she felt defeated.

“My skin is horrible right now.” She rolled her eyes to herself, upset that it was bothering her this much. It was just a bit of dry skin and chapped lips, she shouldn’t be so affected by it.. but she was. “Even my lips are dying.”

Emma smiled. “I’m sure lots of people are struggling right now. I’ve got a dry spot on my cheek. It’s been there for a few days. Just the weather.”

“But it's annoying. Y’know my hormones are whacky sometimes.. feel like as soon as I get it under control, I break out or have something like this happen.”

“When we get home, we can look up some different products. Maybe we can find something better for seasonal dryness. My cream isn’t working either.”

Ivy shrugged and took out her phone to mindlessly look through one of her social media apps. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Even though the shop wasn’t too far from where they lived, Emma didn’t want to walk in the cold and she didn’t want to have to cover the tattoo with thick, tight shoes afterwards. So, Ivy agreed to drive back after they left, and after they grabbed some food. The shop was right around the corner, and it caught Ivy’s attention as they turned onto the street. It was just off the main road of the downtown area. The street was lined with different restaurants, stores, thrifting spots, boutiques, and a few law firm offices and an emergency clinic that stayed open during the weekend. She was familiar with the area, and had actually looked towards the tattoo shop’s sign plenty of times. They pulled into a spot and Emma took in a deep breath before pulling the keys out.

“Are you nervous?” Ivy said with an amused grin plastered over her lips as she opened the car door.

“What if Niall’s right? What if it hurts real bad?”

“You’ll be fine. You got one on your ribs and your spine. You can take it.”

Emma was still nervous as she followed Ivy to the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, allowing Emma to slip into the building first. It was warm in the small lobby of the tattoo shop. She was unfamiliar with the specific shop, but not the reality of one. It looked like the others she had been to and the place she got her tattoos done at. The walls were dark grey and decorated with interesting pieces of artwork and posters. There were rock band posters, most of which she recognized, on the wall behind the dark wood desk that acted as a check in counter. Nobody was at the counter, though. There was a small sleek, black leather couch pressed against the side wall, above it hung a large canvas with what appeared to be an original artwork painted on to it. She saw the signature in the lower left corner and smiled as she read over the name she had heard Niall use a few weeks ago during dinner. So this Zayn character was more than just a tattoo artist? She was intrigued by the brush work on the canvas, the beauty of the image was breathtaking. The muted colors stood out oddly bold against the stark white and midnight black areas. It was nothing like she had ever seen before. Although she didn’t partake in any form of art herself, she was an admirer. She enjoyed frequenting art galleries and museums and contributing to artists as much as she could. She once got a commissioned painting of a bouquet of flowers from an older woman in the area who was a somewhat known artist. The piece lives on the wall near the hall closet.

“Zayn?” Emma called out suddenly as she grew impatient with standing in the middle of the lobby.

Ivy sighed to herself as Emma disappeared through a door. It lead to the main tattoo room, with three different stations placed in it. The back room was Zayn’s private room that his clients were able to be secluded in. Emma knocked on that closed door and waited patiently. A few moments later, Zayn opened the door with a smile, happy to see her.

“Hi, Em.” He said, his accent thick as it rang through the small building.

Ivy heard them chatting, so she decided to peek through the door, a nervous smile on her face. Zayn’s eyes caught hers as he towered over Emma. He offered a friendly wave and gestured for her to join them. She nervously stepped over the threshold and swallowed gently.

“Zayn, do you remember Ivy? You guys met a while back.” Emma said with a gesture of her hand as Ivy approached them.

Immediately, she recognized his features - from his dark eyes to his nearly fully inked arms. His tattooed sleeves wrapped over his shoulders, around his neck, crept over each wrist and wiggled around his fingers. He was covered, to say the least. She could only presume the rest of him looked like that. Colorful tattoos mixed with jet black ones littered his skin. And she noticed, of course, that his hair was blond now like Niall had mentioned.

“I think so, yeah. You’re the chick Niall said could outdrink me, right?” Zayn asked with a laugh.

“I don’t drink that much.. but yeah, that’s me.”

Emma gave her a nudge of her elbow. “She can out drink anyone when she actually lets loose.”

Her eyes rolled as a smile toyed on her lips, still slick from the lip balm. “Yeah yeah.”

“Let me get my chair cleaned off and you ladies can come back here.” Zayn said just as he grabbed the knob to his private room.

They heard something hit the floor and then a shuffle of shoes moving against the tile. Emma furrowed her brows and gave Zayn a curious look.

“Someone in there?”

“Yeah, I just finished a piece.”

He opened the door and went inside, shutting it behind him again. Ivy turned towards Emma and gave her a smile, unsure of what to do next. Emma grabbed her hand and nodded towards the open lobby door.

“We can wait in here.”

They returned to the lobby, where Ivy was easily distracted by the art on the walls again. There was a print of a skull near the door. It had flowers pouring over the crown of it, which then melted to puddles as they hit the imaginary ground. She thought it was interesting and quite cool. From what she could tell about Zayn’s vibe, it fit it well. The music playing from the speakers in the ceiling was loud enough to be heard but not too invasive. She could tell it was a curated playlist going, because the song that just begun seemed to be sung by the same person as the one before.

“Zayn just texted me.. he said we can come back.”

“I thought someone was-“ Ivy stopped speaking the second a body appeared in the doorway. “Oh.”

“Hey, Harry.” Emma said with a friendly tone as she stood up, motioning for Ivy to follow her.

“Hey, Emma.” The stranger replied with a quick lift of one corner of his mouth.

Ivy was slightly confused because it obviously appeared that the two knew each other. She had never heard Emma refer to anyone by the name of Harry, at least not that she could recall. She licked her lips and let her eyes fall down his tall, broad frame.

“What did you get?” Emma asked with her usual curious voice.

Ivy was listening, but she wasn’t paying that much attention. She couldn’t help but be taken aback by the appearance of the person in front of them. He was tall, much taller than Niall but probably close to Zayn’s height. He looked like a sky scraper standing in front of Emma and herself, both of which were shorter than average. His long, dark hair shaped into curls that were messily laying on his shoulders. He suddenly swept his hand through his roots the second she realized he had such long hair. The motion caused the lights above them to ricochet off the rings covering his fingers.

“This.” He said as he extended his right arm to them, well mainly to Emma.

There was a freshly inked snake curling around his forearm, each scale placed perfectly on his tanned skin. There were remenents of blood speckled across his skin, and a deep redness that hazed over the entire tattoo.

“Wow! That’s so good.” Emma beamed at the delicate work.

“Yeah, took two sessions. Zayn got a bit tired last time.” He smirked gently at the girl he knew, completely ignoring the one he didn’t.

“Well, it was cool seeing you! Are you headed home?”

He shook his head. “Gonna sit here for a while. I’ve got to be at the store in an hour to help Niall.”

She checked the time. “Yeah, he said he was the only one closing tonight.”

“Emma?” Zayn called from the back room, his head looking around the doorframe searching for her.

“Coming!” She hollered back, taking one last look at Harry’s freshly inked arm. “It was good seeing you. If you leave before I get out of here, I’ll see you later.”

Ivy didn’t even realize she was tracing her eyes over his body. His arms were like tree trunks, muscles taut under his skin and veins popping out, rolling around as he moved. His legs were tightly wrapped in a pair of dark jeans, she could tell through the fabric that they were toned as well. It wasn’t until he suddenly walked past her, not even sparing her a glance, that she realized she had been standing frozen.

Emma started towards the back room, Ivy in tow as she felt an embarrassed blush cover her cheeks. She didn’t know this Harry guy, but she hoped she wasn’t staring too hard at him. It definitely wasnt polite to just stare at a stranger, especially when she was blanking out. What if she was making a face at him? Something nasty, or something rude looking? She was unsure, but chose to ignore it. He didn’t seem bothered by anything as he took a spot on the couch.

Zayn’s office was just as she expected it to be. It was a deep shade of green, the walls coated in framed prints and a few smaller canvases of what she figured was his work. There was a small accent chair placed in the corner for guests. She sat down and started darting her eyes around the room. The type of work that Zayn had pinned to a board on the back wall caught her eye. He seemed to be good at everything, but most of it was bold color work or extremely detailed realism, sort of like the snake she saw on Harry’s arm moments ago. She wondered if Zayn had given himself any of his own tattoos or if he went to someone else. Surely, not every place on his body was accessible by his own hands, but maybe some of them were done by him. She felt like an amateur compared to him. She had a few tattoos placed on her body, but nothing quite as big or detailed as what she saw on the board or on Zayn’s skin.

“Ivy is your new house mate, right?” Zayn asked Emma as she got comfortable on the chair.

“Yeah. I moved in before Christmas.”

“But.. you’ve known each other for a while, right? I can’t exactly remember.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, since we were in college together.”

“Zayn.. do you mind if I look through this?” Ivy asked politely as she picked up the small binder off the console table next to the chair. A few figurines of characters she recognized, an hour glass with black sand, and a plant lived on the table as well.

“Of course not, that’s why it’s there.” He gave her a chuckle, but kept his response nice.

She opened the book and started to slowly flick through the pages. She saw his signature on the bottom of the designs. They were all so perfect. Some were executed with such detail and precision that she could've sworn they were fake, others were more loose drawn in a free handed style or just more whimsical in nature. She saw a sketch of a few bees on one of the pages. They were in black and grey, mostly realistic with subtle, soft shading and delicate lines. The drawing was pretty and neat. She glanced to the corner, searching for his signature, but she didn’t find it. Instead, in the corner opposite of where Zayn favored to sign his name was a small H. She hummed to herself, curious to know why Zayn had someone else’s drawing in his book. She quickly shook the thought out and reminded herself that there three other stations in the front. They were not abandoned by any means, she could tell people worked at them based on the different things displayed and the personal trinkets and objects adnoring the areas. Maybe this was one of his college’s work or maybe it was random.

For the most part, the book was filled with things Zayn did. Some of them were his own creations while others were common tattoo designs just drawn by his own hand instead of being pulled from the internet. She liked the way he had a bunch of his own things offered in styles that were more popular. He appeared to be a well versed artist with the talent to create just about anything.

As Zayn prepped Emma’s skin for her tattoo, he was talking to her about Niall’s store. He asked how it was going and if she had heard any horror stories yet of Niall messing up payroll or forgetting to stock an item. She only laughed and said she was surprised he was staying so calm and organized. Everything about the store was going more than according to plan, as at least as much as Ivy could tell from what she’s heard. She was still so happy for Niall. His hobby had turned into a passion and a business and he was able to share it with others, it was like a dream come true she bet.

“Alright, are y’ready?” Zayn said with a deep breath of his own as Emma grew more and more nervous in the chair.

“I think so.”

“You’ll do fine, Em.” Ivy encouraged from the corner, her eyes now focused on her friend.

“Just take some deep breaths. Tell me if it’s too much.” Zayn told her as he pulled the stencil paper off her foot. The flower wasn’t that big, but there were lots of tiny details that Zayn knew would probably hurt her more than anything else she’s gotten. “Just a tattoo.”

“If I cry, you can’t tell Niall. I told him I could handle this.” Emma mumbled out with a frown as she stared at her foot.

Zayn smiled and leaned back, the gun still buzzing in his hand. “Before I start, is it in the spot you want?”

“What do you think? Is it good?” She asked him, twisting her foot to a different pose.

“It’s not my foot, love.”

She groaned and looked over towards Ivy. “Can you check?”

Ivy laughed a little but nodded as she stood up. Just as she was about to step towards them, Emma called for someone else to take a peek at the design.

“Harry? Are you still in there?” Her voice echoed through the room, she hoped that it spilled into the lobby so he could hear her. After a few seconds, she grunted and pulled her phone out to shoot him a text. “I’m so nervous.”

“It looks fine to me.. but it’s your decision.” Zayn told her with a gentle sigh.

Ivy looked down at the placement of the tattoo, her arms behind her back with her hands locked. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

She gave Emma a hopeful smile before turning around. The door opened just as she moved her body, the stranger that wasn’t a stranger to anyone but her, walked in the room, chuckling as he saw Emma fanning her face, the heat swelling her skin with sweat and her eyes with tears - she was nervous.

“You always do this.” Zayn couldn’t resist laughing as Harry walked to them.

Ivy was back in her seat now, her eyes fixed on her phone as she waited for Emma to decide her fate. She could hear snickers coming from Zayn and Harry as they talked about the tattoo and Emma’s apparent hesitation that always came out when she was in Zayn’s chair.

“It’s fine, Emma.” Harry said, giving her a smile before looking to Zayn. “Make sure it hurts.”

“Harry, shut up!” Emma groaned and tried to kick at him. He laughed and took a step back. “You guys are bullies.”

“You’ll be alright, Em. It’s not like it's your first.” Zayn reminded her.

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever. Go ahead, then. Thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome.” He said lightly before disappearing out of the door again.

Ivy wondered why he didn’t stay in the room with them. Was he not interesting in hearing the painful grunts Emma would sure be letting out soon or watching Zayn draw his design perfected for Emma into her skin? Maybe he was tired of being near the tattoo gun since he spent however long getting his own. She pushed the thought aside entirely the moment she heard Emma groan, curses falling form her lips but not directly towards anyone.

Zayn leaned over her foot, his fingers pulling her skin tight as he worked the needle into it. It didn’t look like it was much fun, and Ivy became grateful that she had no intention of ever inking anything onto her foot.

—•—

There was a freshness in the air as she looked around Niall’s music store. It smelt like freshly picked lemons, probably because he had just sprayed down the counter before she came in following behind Emma. Niall was in one of his usual band tees and a pair of jeans as he sat on a stool with a guitar resting on his thigh. He was talking with a customer, comparing the similarities of two different guitar brands. Emma found herself busy with the items on the checkout counter - dropping loose pens back into their cup and adjusting the pile of papers Niall had pushed to the side.

Ivy stayed curious as she looked around the store. It was very easy to get caught up in the different items, especially since she had little to no idea what some of the accessories were for. Niall provided more than just items for guitars. She didn’t try to decipher every thing on the shelves, just simply moved her eyes across the packages, curiosity settling in her instead of blurting out questions to Niall. The girls came by to bring him some lunch before they did some grocery shopping for the week. Niall was appreciative, but he was unable to entertainment right away.

Emma smiled as the customer approached the counter, the one Niall had been chatting with. She stepped aside and let Niall take over the register. He had another employee here, but he was in the back room looking for a specific thing they needed to restock on one of the shelves. Ivy waited near by as Niall scanned the guitar music book the customer wanted to get and told him that he’d see him when he returned for the guitar - the customer hadn’t made his decision just yet.

When it was just the three of them at the counter, a few customers were lingering around the store just browsing, Niall gave them both a warm smile before wrapping his arms around Emma for a quick hug.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll eat it when Josh gets off his break.” He said with a sigh, folding his arms and leaning them on the counter.

“The store is so nice, Niall.” Ivy complimented as she glanced around.

“Thanks.”

Emma walked from behind the counter to where Ivy was standing. She was about to ask her something about their plans for the day when her eyes fell on the few pieces of paper taped to the front edge of the counter. One was the refund policy, one was about the instrument lessons, and the other was new since the last time she was here.

“Oh, a flyer? That’s unusual.” Emma suddenly said as she pressed her finger against the pink dyed paper. “For the show?”

“The show?’’ Ivy asked with a drop of her brows as she read over the words printed in bold black letters.

“Yeah, Niall’s band. They play at a bar across town every couple of weeks.” Emma told her.

Ivy remembered as soon as she heard it. Emma had told her before, long ago when she first started dating Niall, that he was in a cover band. It wasn’t anything serious, not trying to search for record deals or gain stardom, it was just him and his friends having a good time. They got decent money for it, including tips from audiences, and it allowed them to play the instruments each member enjoyed. She wasn’t sure who was in the band as Emma never got to that detail before.

“Oh, right.” She nodded as the memory returned to her brain. “That’s cool.”

“Can’t believe Emma’s never brought you to a show.” Niall said with a somewhat surprised expression.

“I invited her a few times but she’s usually busy with work stuff.” Emma defended herself, even though there was no issue with it.

Ivy smiled at her and shrugged. “I remember you asking a couple times.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to attend if you’d like.” Niall offered as he pushed himself off the counter the moment the bell jingled above the entrance door.

He went to greet the customer, someone he actually was used to seeing come in the store, leaving the girls alone again.

“Yeah, it would be fun if you came! You could finally meet Alyssa. She’s usually just home with her and Zayn’s kid.. she doesn’t go out much anymore, but she loves the shows.” Emma exclaimed with a sparkle in her eye.

“I dunno.. when is it?” She asked, glancing at the flyer.

“Next Saturday night. It would be cool, Ivy! We haven’t went out since Halloween.”

The stress building up at work during the holidays definitely set her back from enjoying a lot of things, including several invitations from Emma to join her and Niall at a bar or go out for dinner with just the two of them. It truly felt like forever since she got to have fun with her friend. She thought about it for a moment, but only lifted her shoulder at the idea. The mention of meeting Zayn’s fianc�� was intriguing since she had heard so much about her from Emma, but she doubted that would be enough to pull her out for the night.

“Maybe.. depends on how the week goes.”

Emma gave her a partial smile. “Okay. I really hope you can go with me.”

“Yeah, you should definitely come, Ivy.” Niall said as he appeared next to them, the customer gone to look for the item they asked him about.

Once again, she let out a small sigh and faked a smile for them. “I said I’ll see how the week goes, but no promises.”

He gave her a fake, dramatic frown. “C’mon! Live a little!”

“I live a lot.. at work.”

Emma grabbed her elbow and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll convince you before the week ends.”

“M’sure you will, Em.”

After spending a few more minutes talking to Niall, and then waiting in the car as he and Emma disappeared into his office to say a private goodbye, Ivy was ready to get the grocery shopping over with. The store they frequented was near by, so the drive was short and easy. It wasn’t close to their shared house, but the prices were better than anywhere else. Emma offered to take her car, so that left Ivy in the passenger seat with her eyes glued to whatever passed by the window.

“Are you okay, Ivy?” Emma asked as they strolled through the fruit section in search for the items on their list.

She gulped gently, distracting herself by collecting a few apples for the cart. “M’fine, just tired.”

Emma watched as she walked towards the basket of lemons and grabbed two, she’d need them for a receipe she was going to try later in the week. Ivy was normally not this quiet. She enjoyed the task of grabbing their groceries and checking things off their combined list while Emma pushed the cart and double checked everything. Something about doing such a mundane thing made her feel content and comfortable, even if they decided randomly to try a new store they’d never been in. But today was different, Emma was growing concerned with her unusually quiet friend.

“If you’re irritated with me and Niall pushing you about the show.. I’m sorry. You don’t have to go.” Emma said with a soft frown as Ivy returned to the cart with a handful of bananas.

She sat them down and lifted her hesitant gaze to meet her closest friend’s. “I’m fine, Emma. Just tired.”

She shook her head gently. “No, you’re too quiet. What’s wrong?”

“You and Niall didn’t bother me, I swear. The bar thing is.. whatever. I’ll think about it, I promise. It’s just.. one of those days.”

Emma wasn’t believing it all the way. Sure, maybe Ivy was being truthful about the role her and Niall played in her newfound mood, or didn’t play - but something else was up. She licked her lips and decided to stay quiet as Ivy busied herself with grabbing the rest of the fruits before moving onto the fresh vegetables.

Although she didn’t want to press it any further, Emma couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened at the music shop or on the way to the grocery store. Her worry was growing quickly and it wasn’t very long before she was asking another question.

“Ivy, please tell me. Are you alright?”

She received a sigh as a response, a couple of tomatoes and a bag of baby carrots joined the cart. “Emma, please.. I’m fine.”

“Something is wrong with you. I don’t want to see you so down.”

Ivy walked towards the next section of the store, knowing that Emma would follow her with the cart no matter if they were talking or not. She held her breath as she thought about what was bothering her. She was too caught up with her racing mind to realize she was actually expressing her emotions on the outside. Emma noticed everything, so clearly she wasn't doing well at hiding it. There was no real issue, really, nothing that anyone caused by saying or doing anything. A lump slid down her throat, Emma was her friend - there was no need to keep anything from her.

Just as they turned down the aisle where the bread was, she stopped in her tracks and turned towards the cart, her hand reaching out to stop it. Emma froze, a lift of her brows offering confidence like a good friend should.

“The guy that walked through the door right before we left.. at Niall’s store..” She started with a strong voice, but it slowly faded to almost a whisper.

Emma nodded, encouraging her to continue. She looked down to the floor as the moment replayed in her memory. It wasn’t an unusual thing for her to experience, in fact it was more common than not. One little thing, one random glance from a passerby, one glimpse of someone with a similar shade of hair as her own, one note from a list of songs she knew were special..

“He reminded me of my brother. I.. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her response made Emma’s stomach turn to knots. She knew that the conversation was over then, and there wasn’t anything else she could try that would break Ivy. The forbidden topic had been brought up, and quickly dropped back to the vault she kept it locked away in. Emma didn’t mention it again..

[a/n: this is a series! It’s a lot longer per part than my other stuff so I hope you enjoy! This is just the intro so it will be more interesting and exciting as it goes on! reblog, like, do all that lovely stuff!!] ** I did change this from y/n to an actual character but feel free to read her name as whatever you’d like

taglist: (notified for all // if you want to join a taglist for this series, lmk in a comment or message and I’ll start one)

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden

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wikiangela · 2 months ago

Text

swept completely off my feet, this snow globe scene is turning me

written for @bucktommywinterfest prompt: December 8-14: hallmark movies/movie night and/or “I've actually never seen snow before.

rated: G word count: 2.5k

[also on ao3]

“You know,” Tommy’s voice is quiet, barely a whisper, almost drowned out by the sounds of the TV. It’s some kind of Hallmark movie Buck’s half-paying attention to, half-dozing off after the gruelling shift today. “I’ve actually never seen snow before.” “What?” Buck raises his head from where it’s been resting on Tommy’s shoulder to look at him, immediately more awake. Tommy looks back, almost surprised, as if he didn’t mean to say anything. His fingers keep moving in soothing motions over Buck’s knee, where his legs are thrown over Tommy’s lap. They’re cuddled up under a blanket, and it’s almost too hot – it’s a combination of the blanket, hot chocolate, and the quite warm early December LA evening. It’s far from a true Christmas-winter atmosphere Buck grew up with, but he got used to the warm weather a long time ago. He still misses snow sometimes. He’d never think his boyfriend never saw snow, though. “Never?” Buck asks, trying to keep his shock out of his voice. “I mean, I’ve seen it in movies or pictures.” Tommy gestures vaguely to the TV screen. Buck glances at it to see the characters walking through a snowy landscape. Ah, so that’s what prompted the confession. “I just never had the opportunity to see it in real life.” “In all your forty one years alive? Not once?”

“Evan.” Tommy levels him with a look. “You know I’ve lived in LA my whole life.”

“Yeah, but- but you’re a pilot! You can fly anywhere! And you’ve never travelled?” Buck asks incredulously.

“Nowhere where there’s snow.” Tommy shrugs. “And I’m a pilot for LAFD, honey, not a lot of travelling outside of California. Why is this so shocking? There’s plenty of people who have never seen snow.”

“Still, it’s Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, I love LA, this is my home. But Christmas with snow? That’s a totally different atmosphere. Like in those movies,” he nods towards the screen, now presenting a cozy-looking room, snow behind the window. “The air smells crisp and fresh, you can actually curl up under a blanket with your hot boyfriend and a hot chocolate and not feel like you’re burning ten minutes later,” he says and Tommy laughs, “and all the decorations look so much better with snow – why do you think some people put fake snow in their backyards?”

“We’re not doing that, by the way.” Tommy is quick to add, because lately they’re in the middle of discussing decorating his house, which Buck thinks needs to be much more festive. He already started putting up decorations as soon as December rolled around. Tommy has been indulging him with everything so far, all the lights and garlands and a wreath on his front door, and stockings – Buck ordered custom ones, one with ‘Evan’, the other with ‘Tommy’ on them. There’s also little figurines, like Santas and Christmas trees, and reindeers and whatnot all over the place. They’re only missing an actual tree and decorations outside. And mistletoe, that’s a must. Buck has plans for everything, but there’s still time until Christmas, so they’re taking it slow.

“Of course not.” Buck rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, it looks better with snow. Also, snow is just fun! You’ve never been sledding? Or ice-skating? Or made a snowman? Or angels in the snow? Or had a snowball fight?” He can feel his eyes get wider with each question, as it’s just settling in how much Tommy’s missed out on – and a plan is forming to remedy that.

It’s not that Buck loves snow so much – he likes it just fine, but he prefers the hot LA weather. It’s just that it’s Christmas, and as un-festive as his holidays at home usually were, some of his favorite memories are when Maddie took him to play in the snow as a child, and how much fun he had with his friends, skating over frozen lakes and having snowball fights.

“And Santa!” He continues, eyebrows raised high. Tommy looks amused now, looking at Buck’s outrage with a grin. “Santa travels by sleigh!”

“Baby, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Santa doesn’t exist.” Tommy says teasingly, mock-concerned, and Buck lightly slaps at his chest. “Besides, he’s magic, he doesn’t need snow.”

“We’re getting off-track here.” Buck shakes his head. “You’ve never seen snow.”

“Never.” Tommy nods.

“Well, you’re gonna.” Buck says decisively, moving to get off of Tommy’s lap, but Tommy’s strong hands keep him in place.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab my phone. I need to find someplace to take you this Christmas to see snow.” Buck says simply, a plan already forming in his head, a thousand ideas coming at once. It suddenly becomes one of the most important things that he makes sure Tommy sees snow this year.

“You wanna go away for Christmas? Really?” Tommy asks skeptically, frowning.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because you’re the biggest family guy I know. Don’t you wanna spend it with your family? I thought we were going to Maddie’s.” One of Tommy’s hands is moving softly along Buck’s back, the other still resting on his knee. Buck sinks into his touch again, relaxes against him.

“Right, we are.” Buck nods, thinking intensely. “Well, we can go away for New Year’s Eve?” He suggests. “We could take two days off, make a trip out of it. And if we can’t get time off then,” he adds, because it is a very busy time, and people usually take time off well in advance. They might need all hands on deck, and then they won’t get time off – or even spend it together, unless by some miracle they run into each other at a call. “We can take a random weekend in January. Or maybe even now, way before Christmas. And we’ll go see snow.”

“Where? You gonna take me to meet your parents or something?” He asks with a teasing smirk, knowing full-well that’s not what Buck meant. He’s on good terms with his parents now, they get along much better, but he’s not taking Tommy to meet them. He already has met them, but also he doesn’t feel the need to go back to his childhood home. Though he hasn’t been back there in years, they could get a hotel room and visit his parents for an hour or so, since they always visit him and Maddie lately… Hm, maybe. It’s a thought, for much, much later. Right now, all he wants is to take Tommy somewhere with snow.

“Ha, you’re so funny.” Buck shakes his head, leaning forward to press a kiss against Tommy’s smile. “No, I’d take you somewhere nice. To one of those towns in your rom-coms.” Buck grins, turning back to the TV and gesturing at the screen, the movie evidently ending, the main couple currently kissing in the snow. He wants to kiss Tommy like this, too. In a quaint, quiet Christmas town, snow falling into their hair, melting on their hot cheeks as they smile into each other’s lips. He wants to give Tommy the most Christmas rom-com kiss he’s ever had.

“Not sure those exist in real life.” Tommy chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest where Buck’s pressed against him. He loves the sound of Tommy’s laugh, but he also loves feeling it vibrate through him, it’s always so nice and soothing, Buck could fall asleep to it.

“Well, I’ll find one.” Buck says decisively. Tommy laughs again, presses a soft kiss to Buck’s forehead, right on his birthmark.

“If anyone’s gonna make it happen, it’s you, baby,” he whispers against Buck’s skin. Buck feels his cheeks warm up, a shiver running down his spine, a dopey smile on his face.

“Yeah,” he smiles smugly, “so if you just let me grab my phone-” He tries to move off of Tommy again, but his man holds him in place, one hand sliding down his back to his hip, the other still on his knees, his grip tightening.

“Later, I’m too comfortable like this.” Tommy pouts, and it’s so adorable Buck can’t not relent. He leans back again, head back on Tommy’s shoulder, Tommy’s fingers resuming caressing Buck’s knees thrown over his lap.

“Okay,” he mutters, his hand settling on Tommy’s chest, right above his steadily beating heart. “I can think of places now, and do my research later, when you’re asleep way before me, like always, old man,” he teases, and gets pinched in his side for this, accompanied by his boyfriend’s laugh.

“Oh, really?” Tommy quirks an eyebrow. “Remind me of that next time you want me to hold you up against a wall for a long period of time.” He says with a teasing smirk, then huffs. “I’ll show you old.”

“Shut up.” Buck laughs. If he wasn’t as tired as he is, he’d try that right now, he loves riling Tommy up, and there’s a good chance they would end up against a wall, his legs wrapped around Tommy’s hips; or on the floor, or in bed, or even just naked on the couch, or just about anywhere in Tommy’s house. Alas, he’s beat, and all he has the energy for is cuddling. Maybe he could use a quick nap during the next movie before he tries to start anything. “Are we watching another one?”

“Of course we are.” Tommy grabs the remote. “You wanna choose this time?”

“No, it’s fine, you choose, baby.” Buck sighs snuggling against his boyfriend, as he watches Tommy scroll through the movie options. All of them Christmas-themed, snowy, perfect for this time of year. And normally it might not be Buck’s first, or even tenth option, but with Tommy, he really finds those movies enjoyable. Or maybe that’s his boyfriend’s presence making everything better, as always.

They can’t find time to get away until mid-January, but as soon as they both get time off at the same time, Buck books a little resort in some small snowy town he found on one of his research binges. As soon as they exit their plane, he can’t take his eyes off Tommy’s face, wanting to see even his smallest reaction to snow. It’s silly. He’s seen snow, on TV, in movies, in pictures. Still, seeing the real thing must be different. Besides, Buck will use any excuse to get away with his boyfriend for a few days.

Especially once they get into the town center, the cab driving them to their resort. There’s still leftover Christmas decorations, there’s a thick layer of snow on the ground, it looks like it’s sparkling in the early afternoon sun. It looks magical. The look on Tommy’s face is even better.

When they exit the car, their feet sinking into the snow, Tommy takes a deep breath, inhaling the icy, fresh air so distinct for snow. He bends down to touch the snow, childlike wonder in his face. Buck is so happy to give this to him, as simple and silly as it might be. He loves Tommy so much, he wants to give him everything he ever dreams of. He’s also very happy to be able to give him some firsts, even if they’re not as groundbreaking as the firsts Buck’s experienced with Tommy so far.

Tommy’s still looking at the snow, now melting in his hand, probably freezing. Buck pays the cab driver and takes their bags out of the trunk, but before they go inside, he gives Tommy a second more. It’s adorable how awed he looks.

It’s starting to snow, too, and when Tommy looks up at the sky, snowflakes dotting his cheeks and getting caught up in his hair, his smile could light up the darkest night, all scrunched up nose and crinkling eyes – the most gorgeous smile Buck’s ever seen in his life. He looks like an angel. It really looks like a scene straight out of Tommy’s favorite cheesy holiday rom-coms. They’re basically alone on the street, surrounded by so much snow, the town really quiet and serene, some vague sounds of life reaching their ears from a few streets over.

Tommy’s so entranced by his first time touching snow and seeing it fall in real life, he doesn’t notice Buck bending down to pick up some snow himself. Buck grins wickedly.

“Hey, baby,” Buck gets his attention, and is almost sorry to ruin the mood, but getting hit with a snowball is a crucial snow experience, and he won’t deny his boyfriend that. So, he throws, gentle enough, the soft snow basically falling apart – fortunately, because he hits Tommy’s face. Tommy yelps in surprise and Buck laughs – and then starts running when Tommy retaliates.

That’s how they end up in a snowball fight, turned wrestling in the snow, turned making out in the snow, right at the entrance of their resort, not caring who sees or judges them, just full of pure, unadulterated joy, happiness, and so much love.

They’re both soaking wet and freezing when they get the keys to their room, giggling any time they glance at each other like a couple of teenagers, the elderly woman at the front desk smiling at them amusedly and fondly. Buck grins at her, and puts an arm around Tommy, kissing his temple. He can’t stop smiling.

They take a walk in the evening, fingers intertwined, snow softly falling, the town looking so peaceful and beautiful and picturesque, like from a postcard. But all Buck sees is Tommy’s face. His sparkling eyes and wonder in his face, and that amazing, wide, happy smile.

“So, you’re having fun?” Buck asks, swinging their hands back and forth. Tommy turns to look at him with a grin.

“Yeah. A lot. More than I expected.” He nods, brings their hands up to his lips to kiss Buck’s knuckles – and as always, this move makes Buck violently blush. “Thank you.” Tommy adds softly, squeezing his hand tighter. “For bringing me here, for being here, for being you. For every day since we met. I’m so grateful to have you. I-” he stops, turns fully towards Buck, his face serious but still so, so fond. And oh, Buck thinks he knows where this is going. His heart starts beating faster. “I love you, Evan. I love you so much sometimes I can’t believe it’s possible.” He shakes his head, his eyes shiny, the gorgeous smile on his face melting Buck’s heart.

“I love you, too, Tommy.” Buck whispers, not wasting even a second once Tommy stops speaking. His heart has been screaming those words for weeks, if not months, and it feels like the biggest relief to finally voice them. “So, so much. I’ve been dying to tell you, I love you. I love you, I love-”

He presses the rest of the words into Tommy’s lips when Tommy puts a hand under his chin and brings him in for a kiss. It’s soft and gentle, both of them not able to stop smiling, as snowflakes fall all over them, catching in their hair and on their eyelashes, small specks of cold on their skin, Tommy’s cold nose pressing into Buck’s cheek. It’s perfect.

He’s standing in the middle of a snowy little town, kissing the man who’s his everything, who’s his entire future, while snow falls around them, and it might just be the most perfect kiss of his life.

[also on ao3]

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please-destroy · 2 months ago

Text

River

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4k

There were two of you. You knew that from the start. You did not ask about her.

You were in love. You wanted to be.

When she took your hand, her fingers would thread slowly with yours. Your heart beat stronger with her gentle touch. You ignored the cool metal of her wedding band.

You pretended that no one else loved her like you did.

Her lips were always rougher than they looked. You lived for the feel of them on your skin.

Sometimes, she told you about her wife. Only in passing, only in reference to their shared life. Mentions of weekend trips and dinners after work.

At first, you listened eagerly. Naive and envious in the same breath, you longed for a life just like it. Most embarrassingly, you started to hope for it. You remembered small details purposefully, how she always forgot to wear sunscreen, that she hated the stress of driving to new places.

You didn’t ask her to choose you, not yet. But, now she was with you in your daydreams.

Months passed like water pouring out. You let each one wash over you.

She rented an apartment in the city just for you to share. Soon, it felt more like home than your own cheap rental.

You found yourself on your lunch breaks at the cafe, living for her short texts, laughing at her snarky complaints.

In the evenings, her nails scraped through your hair and you felt alive.

Winter froze the city but you’d never felt warmer.

She saw you the day after Christmas. You’d already decorated a small tree in the apartment. Her long dark hair sparkled under the strings of lights that you’d hung. She smiled with a special kind of relief when you told her about the takeout that you’d ordered.

You listened to her quiet murmurings about the exhausting holiday season trapped with a woman who only drained her.

She gave you a watch that felt too expensive to sit on your wrist. You glanced down at it while you ate your takeout, feeling unspeakably special.

You gave her polaroids that you’d been very shy to pose for.

She left the next morning, extra early to ensure she was on time for some obligation at her wife’s work.

You lay an extra hour, tangled up in the sheets, realising that you didn’t know who you were without her.

She had flooded your veins, watering down whatever had made you up before. You decided that you liked it.

She called you on New Year’s Eve; she’d bailed on some party just to speak to you. You could hear the frustration simmering in her tone. You ached at her unhappiness, but you also thrived on the feeling of being wanted by her. That you could be her place to turn to.

At last, she said the words that you’d been praying to hear.

She was ready to end her marriage.

The new year began with fresh anticipation.

January ended and nothing had changed.

You tried to be patient, waiting for her to tell you about divorce papers or formal separations.

You saw her more than ever in that sacred apartment. But, the precious lingering moments started to feel sluggish. You felt like you were on the edge of something real. You awaited the promised vacations, the shared domestic life, your own evening dates in fancy restaurants.

The delay made you feel more stained by everything you’d done together. Reality began to feel heavier.

In the evenings with her, you’d curl in her arms and let the white sheets take away the sin of it all. Slowly, in those quiet moments together, she started to tell you all the details of her marriage.

The words seemed unstoppable, unflinching in their honesty. At first, you felt proud that she could confide in you.

She listed the reasons that she’d strayed, the reasons that she’d found you.

The abstract wife who’d never seemed real, now became increasingly formed.

‘Natasha’ started to haunt your dreams.

You heard bitter stories about Natasha’s crippling fear of intimacy, the impact it had on everyone close to her. How frustrating it was. The way she distrusted simple kindness. The holidays she had ruined with her petty arguments. Her insecurities that never seemed to go away.

Natasha’s motives seemed twisted, illogical, cruel, as you were told them. The stories seemed like bad fairy tales but you listened patiently to each one.

She continued to confide in you. Stories from years ago and moments from her day to day. You waited for the inevitable conclusion to be reached, for the logical choice to separate from the villain in every tale.

All you seemed to get were more bitter stories.

You started to feel like a stone embedded in a riverbed, caught in the constant stream of water but never quite dislodged enough to break free.

You started hearing the bias in her stories, the cruelty of her tone. You started seeing a side of her that you didn’t want to.

More than anything, you found yourself starting to root for another woman who could only hate you.

Natasha was so much stronger than either of you.

Snippets of description lingered in your head, even when you were alone.

Sometimes, sitting in your own apartment, you tried to imagine what shade of green Natasha’s eyes were. If she was really so tiresome or just not as self-interested as her wife.

You’d spent half a year living for the moments in that apartment. For warm towels wrapping around you, soft sheets and tangled limbs. The fleeting comfort of being held from behind, warm kisses on your bare shoulders.

You’d felt precious, like a gift meant for her. Someone to be cherished.

Now, you looked at yourself, staring back in the foggy bathroom mirror and knew that you were unloved.

You realised that your eyes were empty. You had stopped trying to be someone you liked.

You felt drained and understood at last that you were being used. .

You realised that you didn’t covet another woman’s wife. You didn’t covet anything at all.

You felt like an empty vessel, now filled to the brim with someone else’s bitterness.

You wanted yourself back. You broke free.

The end was brutal in its abruptness.

Two texts from you finished something that should never have been started.

You didn’t give her a reason. You couldn’t think how to justify yourself. How to explain that you hated the way she talked about her wife. How you were starting to hate yourself. That her adultery was suddenly unforgivable.

You felt like an accomplice to something gut-twisting.

It was the precipice of summer now. You blocked her number when texts and calls continued to flood your phone.

You took extra shifts at the cafe. You’d grown distant from friends during the winter and now you tried your best to make amends.

Each apology was painful and awkward, forcing you to confront your own selfishness when close friends gave you long overdue life updates.

When you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your eyes were brighter. Every new morning, you hated yourself a little less.

You started walking more, trying to fill time that had been saved for her. You took detours to and from work, listening to thudding music through cheap earphones. You tried to leave your mistakes behind. Putting distance between you and your regrets.

You couldn’t walk away from the guilt. Thoughts of Natasha were inescapable, regret took a heavy seat on your heart.

It was a Saturday afternoon, simmering with uncomfortable city heat.

You walked back to your apartment lethargically, sweat sticking your shirt to your back.

There was a woman standing in the dim hallway, just outside your door.

Fear pinned you to the spot. The world moved in slow motion as she turned to face you.

Her red hair was braided back. Her jaw seemed tight, but her lips looked too soft for words. Anger flickered behind her green eyes.

‘I think you know my wife.’ She spoke clearly, the crisp words slicing through the air between you.

‘Fuck.’ You whispered, doused in sudden icy panic.

You knew you were a homewrecker. You hadn’t realised that it was an Avenger’s home.

Your stomach sank through the floor as you warily regarded her at the end of the hallway. Natasha Romanoff was capable of anything. You’d heard rumours that she was super human.

She was also hypnotising with her casual beauty.

Her eyes were a deeper green than the woman you’d imagined.

Silence stretched between you. You waited in fear.

Finally, Natasha nodded her head toward your front door.

The pointed reminder of social etiquette threw you off. You huffed an embarrassed breath as you hurried forward to unlock it.

You held the door open and Natasha walked past you. You caught the way she held her breath as she passed by you. You felt her disgust like a harsh blow to the chest. You reminded yourself it was the least you deserved.

An apology burned in your chest, desperate to be spoken aloud.

Standing in the centre of your shitty small apartment, Natasha turned back to you. Her diamond stud earrings stood out comically in the dingy room.

‘I hear we are in love with the same person.’ She commented, looking you straight in the eye. Her hands were buried deep in her leather jacket’s pockets, but you could make out the clenched fists.

Her tense frame seemed sharply vulnerable. She was much smaller in person.

‘I think we’ve known different people.’ You replied cautiously, sympathy beginning to build in your chest.

‘You need to leave her alone.’ Natasha bit back and her eyes flashed suddenly.

‘We’re not-’ You stumbled over your words, rushing to correct her impression. ‘We ended it. Everything.’ You cleared your throat. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Natasha blinked with clear surprise; she ignored your apology completely.

‘What do you mean?’ She asked, voice dropping unexpectedly. Your gaze lowered to the ground, hot shame burned through you.

‘It lasted six months and ended three weeks ago.’ You answered factually, hating the taste of the truth. ‘I’m so sorry.’ You added again uselessly.

Natasha’s expression closed off and for a moment she was very still. Then, she moved suddenly across your apartment. The heel of her hand slammed against your wall, leaving a clear dent. You watched her forehead tilt forward, leaning heavily against the old wallpaper. You heard her rapid breathing. Every inhale was drawn shakily.

Your next apology died on your lips. Tears burned in your eyes. You hovered in awful limbo in the centre of the room.

Slowly, Natasha faced you again. Her eyes were rimmed red, but she wasn’t crying. She swallowed once. Her gaze dropped and she stared down at your wrist. Distress flickered behind her eyes.

You followed her stare to the wristwatch that had stopped feeling special a long time ago. Wordlessly, Natasha reached up to her earrings, undoing them one after the other. She threw them with unerring aim onto your side table.

‘There.’ She murmured, sounding broken in ways you couldn’t comprehend. ‘You might as well have all my Christmas presents.’

Nausea rose like a tidal wave as you tried to swallow down your disgust.

‘Oh God.’ You whispered in horror, unclasping the watch and throwing it onto the nearby sofa.

Natasha’s focus returned to you. Her lip twitched with a strange, resigned half smile.

‘You’re not special.’ She commented neutrally. ‘And neither am I.’

You shook your head with automatic fervour.

‘You’re a superhero.’ You countered quietly, unable to meet her eyes all over again.

Natasha’s hand brushed her cheek harshly and you realised that she’d started crying.

‘I wreck everything.’ She muttered harshly and you recognised her honesty as another sign of your irrelevance to her. ‘Everything I touch, I ruin.’

‘You’re an Avenger.’ You tried to speak up again. You’d been fucking her wife, who’d been complaining whilst she’d been saving the world. Everything was so twisted.

‘They just point me at the right targets.’ Natasha whispered. ‘It’s what I was made to do. I’m not made for anything else. I can’t even make a fucking marriage work.’

It felt like pieces of the room were falling down around you. The woman you had no right to speak to was imploding quietly at the edge of it.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You whispered one last time.

The apology seemed to snap Natasha out of her misery. She blinked away the tears clinging to her eyelashes and straightened up.

‘I don’t even know why I bothered you.’ She admitted tiredly as her hands slipped back into her pockets. You caught the reddened palm of the one that had hit your wall. ‘I should go.’

As she took a step toward the door, you took a step forward too.

‘Your earrings.’ You began, eyes darting unsurely to the watch that you realised was also technically hers.

Natasha caught your hesitation and sudden exhaustion rinsed her face clean.

‘They’re not worth saving.’ She murmured in dismissal.

‘Don’t tell anyone about this.’ Natasha added in a tighter, controlled voice, before shutting the door with abrupt finality.

Your next hesitation was short lived.

‘Wait.’ You called suddenly, hurriedly following her out into the hallway.

Natasha turned around at your voice. Fresh, private tears stained her cheeks.

‘Can I give you my number, just in case?’ You asked nervously, hand already reaching in your pocket for your phone.

‘Why the fuck would I want to talk to you?’ Natasha bit out so harshly that you flinched.

‘Because who else can you talk to about this?’ You retorted with sudden certainty.

Natasha’s mouth shut abruptly.

You reeled off your number aloud, Natasha didn’t write it down but she stayed stoically until you’d finished speaking.

When you returned to your apartment, you sat on your sofa and stared up at the cracked ceiling, thinking about the mess you’d made. The pain you’d inflicted on someone else.

Natasha’s eyes were going to haunt you forever.

Natasha called you three days later. You answered the unknown number unsurely. You were on your lunch break, sitting on a step just behind the heavy fire exit door. The warm breeze barely made the summer air tolerable.

Your throat closed at her voice.

‘There’s definitely someone else.’ She told you, without preamble. You felt sick, you realised how little you wanted to have this conversation. You felt like you owed her everything.

‘How do you know?’ You asked, forcing your voice to be even.

‘How do you think I knew about you?’ Natasha retorted, voice deceptively cool. ‘Did you think that she’s subtle?’

You stood up, beginning to pace with the phone pressed to your ear.

‘Are you going to confront her?’ You asked, wondering if she was looking for courage.

‘No-’ Natasha’s voice faltered obviously, as if your question had thrown her. ‘No, it’s not that simple.’

‘She’s being cruel.’ You whispered, thinking guiltily back to the horrible things that Natasha’s wife had said about her.

‘I can make this work. Natasha replied, voice cracking. ‘I just need another chance. I just need to-’

‘You can’t push all this bad shit down, that’s not balance.’ You heard yourself advising in a low voice. ‘You’re the only person here who hasn’t done anything wrong.’

Natasha hung up the phone.

You spent another afternoon filled with regret.

The next evening, she was standing outside your door again. You tried not to be relieved to see her again.

There was something laughably put together about her professional outfit. The black suit jacket was pristine.

You let her in this time without hesitation.

It felt like a movie cliche. Natasha sat tensely on your sofa. You sat nervously beside her. She put her head in her hands and you watched the way her jacket went taut against the curve of her spine.

‘I can’t tell anyone.’ Natasha whispered into her hands. ‘I’m so ashamed.’

Your heart shattered silently. You didn’t understand.

‘This isn’t your fault.’ You murmured softly.

Natasha adjusted, crossing her arms tightly as she sat up straighter.

‘I promised her that I’d get better.’ Natasha told you, in a voice dripping with self loathing. Her tone was too cold, you found yourself resisting the urge to shrink away from her.

‘What do you mean?’ You asked hesitantly.

The line of Natasha’s jaw tensed before she answered. Her long straight hair was loose, obscuring her face slightly. Her eyes flickered to you and you remembered how little she must trust you.

You lifted your hands in mock surrender.

‘What I meant to ask.’ You corrected hastily. ‘Is, do you want a drink?’

Real surprise flooded Natasha’s face at your words. Still, you didn’t miss the way her shoulders relaxed at the turn in conversation. She swallowed a lump in her throat, nodding wordlessly.

You left for the kitchen, returning with an unopened bottle of vodka.

Natasha took it silently, unscrewing the cap between her thumb and forefinger.

‘I hate that I’m here.’ She admitted after lifting the bottle to her lips.

“I hate what I did.’ You admitted readily too.

‘Stop saying that.’ She advised suddenly, twisting the gold band on her finger. ‘It doesn’t make anyone feel better, except you.’

You nodded, feeling embarrassed.

‘When I told my boss that I was getting married. He said it wasn’t something I could do well.’ She confessed suddenly. Natasha made you feel invisible, her eyes skated over you as she spoke.

You didn’t matter to her. You had no right to.

‘Pain only makes us stronger.’ She breathed softly and the sound filled the hesitations between her words. ‘I don’t know how to deserve her but I have to keep trying.’

‘She doesn’t deserve you Natasha.’ You hated yourself completely. You knew she couldn’t hear you, that your opinion held no weight and it was your own fault.

Natasha took another drink from the vodka bottle.

‘I get stuck behind these walls in my head.’ She mumbled in a low voice, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘I can’t be normal.’

A lump rose in your chest. Her words were unbearably sad.

Your hand moved carefully to rest in the space between her shoulder blades. Natasha flinched away sharply.

‘Don’t touch me.’ She told you angrily and you felt yourself truly want to die.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whispered, embarrassed tears filling your eyes.

The air was stifling as you fought to keep your breathing even.

‘Every time I look at you, I think about her fucking you.’ Natasha continued, anger flowing through her, uncontrolled. She slammed the bottle down on the side table and fear iced up the back of your neck.

‘Do you think I just fucking forget about that?’ She asked cuttingly, getting to her feet.

There was an awful pause. Then, with sudden clarity, you felt brave. You owed Natasha everything, no words could tear you down lower.

‘Do you forget when you’re with her?’ You asked, standing up too.

‘You have a wife who is breaking your heart.’ You heard your voice growing stronger and you barely recognised yourself. ‘Do you think she loves you? Do you know what she says about you?’

Natasha’s face went ashen.

‘You are better than her.’ You continued fiercely. ‘I can’t forget the things I did either. The only person who can live with themself is her.’

The silence that met your words was pervasive. You could hear your refrigerator humming in the other room.

Natasha ran her hand through her hair, leaving it messier than before. Another piece of her collected image fell apart.

‘I’m trying.’ She muttered brokenly. ‘I’m trying so hard.’

‘It’s not your fault that she’s hurting you.’ You countered quietly, feeling self-conscious after your outburst.

Natasha gave you a strange look, filled with twisting guilt that you recognised too familiarly.

‘It is.’ She whispered in a cracked voice.

She sank back down onto your old sofa.

‘Fuck.’ She muttered, rubbing her face briefly with her hands. ‘I love her. I do love her.’ She started quietly, twisting her wedding band harshly.

‘But, everything is hard.’ Natasha confessed, staring down at her lap. ‘And I asked her to be patient with me, but I can’t figure out how to make myself change.’

You watched Natasha with bated breath. It felt cooler suddenly, like a breeze had finally found its way into your shitty apartment.

‘Don’t fucking change.’ You determined firmly and Natasha turned to stare at you in shock. ‘You’re fine as you are.’ Your confidence came from a certainty in your chest.

‘There’s nothing wrong with how you love people.’ You continued. ‘Your love has saved so many fucking lives.’

Natasha watched you like an unsure child.

You felt stronger, closer to a freedom that only her happiness could bring.

‘You’re not failing by being yourself.’ You continued to assert. ‘You can’t be.’

‘I really do love her.’ Natasha murmured and you realised that she was looking at you differently now.

You hoped she knew that you were on her side.

‘I know.’ You reassured her softly. ‘Love shouldn’t be this hard.’

‘Believe me, I know.’ You added in a mutter under your breath.

A short laugh left Natasha unexpectedly.

You fought a tiny smile as the air settled, drenched in unspeakable relief.

The end was brutal in its abruptness.

Two texts from Natasha finished something that should never have been started.

She didn’t need to give a reason. But, she did.

She explained how much she hated the way that her wife talked to her. She wrote that her adultery was unforgivable.

At last, you felt like an accomplice to something good.

It was autumn when you next saw Natasha.

She walked into your cafe like she was a regular. A hush fell over the busy establishment. Whispers of Black Widow circulating faster than the caffeine did.

Her hands rested on the counter and you noted the absence of her wedding ring. Natasha caught your gaze and she smiled simply.

‘When’s your break?’ She asked, as you began filling the coffee cup.

You sat together, on the step just behind the heavy fire exit door. Natasha’s shoulder was pressed against yours. The cool air was made pleasant by your warm coat.

Natasha told you that things were easier now.

She had better friends than she’d ever realised. She told you about Friday movie nights with some people from work. She told you about the cat that had moved into her new apartment, only a few weeks after she had.

You sipped on your coffee as you listened, not tasting anything except its warmth.

You asked carefully if she still spoke to her ex-wife.

Natasha shook her head and gave a gentle laugh. Her hair caught the autumn light and you realised suddenly that it was made up of many shades of red.

Before she left, Natasha gave you her number.

You didn’t text her.

Natasha was a better person than you. She was brave, strong and kind.

You’d been granted more forgiveness than you deserved.

Natasha’s eyes finally stopped haunting your dreams.

It was the start of winter when Natasha called you. She invited you to the next Friday movie night with her friends, she was hosting it at her apartment. You didn’t realise how easy it was to say yes, until you did.

The streets were icy when you walked over that evening. Natasha wore an oversized wool jumper and leggings when she answered the door.

She’d invited you earlier than anyone else. She offered you a glass of wine and introduced you to a black cat that slunk away from you in distaste.

There were various framed photos placed around the living room. Natasha was smiling in every single one.

More people arrived and soon the small gathering felt like a party.

Natasha introduced you to each new guest as an old friend. You caught the way her work friends exchanged curious glances.

More wine was poured and soon a cheesy romcom occupied the room’s attention.

Her living room now held more people in it than there were comfortable seats and so Natasha sat on the floor, just in front of you.

Somewhere, between the wine and the easy laughter, and Natasha’s back pressed comfortably against your legs, you started braiding a piece of her hair.

You watched the way Natasha smiled to herself, pink cheeks from the alcohol.

The new year began better than the last.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #avengers fic #natasha romanov

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inkievoid · 2 months ago

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An answered prayer || K. Wagner x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Content Warning: Christmas stuff, fluff and a sprinkle of jealous Kurt

Words: 1.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request, I believe? Might have Lost a name on accident, oopsies... Enjoy <3 And Happy Holidays!!!

Christmas, what a wonderful time of year. The fire's lit, holiday music playing as the rest of the team enjoys the annual party and secret Santa exchange. Holding his own gift from his dear sister in his lap. Trying to focus on anything but the sight he's transfixed on.

He's supposed to be blue, feeling the sharp green of envy pulling at the edges of his being as he stares down their leader. Grinning wide as he hands over your gift. Watching you rip away at the shiny silver wrapping paper across the common room, hearing you loudly gasp.

Probably something practical and thoughtful... Typical Scott.

And now you're gushing over some stupid cable-knit sweater as you put it to your front. Pulling Scott into a tight embrace as he, albeit awkwardly, hugs you back with a tight smile. Kurt can feel his brows pin together, tail flicking against his own calves in irritation. He knows he has no real right to be jealous. You're not his. Not officially, at least.

You're aware of each other's feelings and have been on a few dates even. But with his duties to the council in Genosha, he hardly gets to see you unless it's fairly important or the occasional time off. Which, obviously, he hates, holding a candle for you for the longest time now.

Kurt sighs, turning his attention back to the fire, arms crossed over his chest as he takes in the dancing flames in the fireplace as everyone buzzes around him. The sound of the party makes it hard to think of anything but your smile crossing his mind.

Sighing, he stands from the couch, heading outside into the cold. Standing out on the back step of the mansion. Looking across the beautiful blanket of fresh white snow just fallen earlier that morning. The inky night sky filled with stars for once over the trees.

That feeling of jealousy still not leaving him. Heart beating against his chest as he takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes as his hands pressed together, a huff of cloudy air escaping him as he softly prayed to himself.

"Heavenly Father, give me the strength to resist the temptation of jealousy. Help me to trust in Your plan and to find contentment in Your provision... She knows not what she does to me, and I know a devil like me isn't supposed to ask for anything... But all I want is her... Bless my friends, bless my dear family, and please, Lord, bless mein Schatz. Amen."

The door creaks open behind him, yellow eyes cutting through the darkness as he looks back to see you standing at the door, arm behind your back with that sweet smile he's come to love.

"Am I interrupting something?" You ask softly, a half smile coming to his lips as he shakes his head, waving you to come outside.

Coming out, you close the door gently, stepping over to him with a quiet kind of grace. Silence filling the air as you both look out into the night sky. So close together, you can feel Kurt's body heat from just being next to him.

It's now or never...

Clearing your throat, you meet his eyes, moving your arm from behind your back. A cute little bag with two kids building a snowman together hanging off your fingers. Blue, sparkling tissue paper billowing from the top with a tiny tag hanging from the handle.

"Merry Christmas..." He looks a little dumbfounded, looking down at the bag before taking it in his palms.

"My sister, she... gave me a gift already?" You chuckle with a nod.

"I know, I got Remy for the Secret Santa. Gave him this really nice deck of cards I found when we had a mission overseas a few weeks ago, but I wanted to give you something too... Special people deserve special gifts." He thanked God in that moment; it was dark out, and you'd see his entire face turn purple as he blushed.

"I... didn't get you anything." You just shrug, not honestly caring about it in the long run.

"My gift can be the look on your face when you open yours. Come on." You nudge the side of the bag, making him look it over. Taking note of how you crossed out "from" on the attached card and wrote "love" instead. Making his stomach do an involuntary flip. Moving the tissue paper away, he pulls out a flat square box, glancing up at you with a small scoff.

"This isn't going to be dozens of tiny boxes, is it?" You tap his shoulder with a roll of your eyes.

"Just open it!" He smiles, pulling the lid away. Face falling as the dim light catches the shiny silver circle pendant. A piece of ivory in the middle with their initials engraved together. He feels his chest tighten, looking up into your eyes in shock.

"I thought it would look good next to your rosary... And you always talk about how we don't get enough time together... Now I can be with you all the time in some way." His eyes fall back to the box, quickly pulling out the necklace and inspecting it closer.

"This... This is beautiful. And so thoughtful..."

"Well, it's just something I thought you needed... Plus, I... I've been wanting to talk to you about something." His eyes shoot back up to you. Looking into your eyes with a hint of disbelief.

"About what?"

"Us." His eyes widen, mouth opening like a fish as you close the gap, pressing your hand to his cheek with an affectionate stroke of your thumb.

"You mean so much to me, Kurt, and it's been killing me to not... Be with you. I miss you constantly and can't stop thinking about you all the time." His free hand drifts over yours on his cheek with a content sigh.

"I can't stop thinking about you either... I don't want you to think that it's necessary for us to be together if we're—" You silence him, kissing him with a tender touch he's never felt before. His head tilts, pressing into you, hand traveling to snake his arm around your waist. Pulling you even closer to his warm frame with a fondness he could only hold for you.

Lips separate, the shared warmth between you almost suffocating to a degree.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that, mein Schatz... Merry Christmas." Leaning back in, your lips connect briefly before there's a bang at the door, making you both nearly jump out of your skin.

It's Gambit at the door with a grin on his face, Rogue behind him with a soft giggle as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Quickly you turn away from their prying eyes, feeling your face heat up as the thick Cajun drawl pours through the glass.

"Dinner's on the table, lovebirds! Time's ticking' before Cyclops has that aneurysm if you two don't move." He laughs before walking back towards the dining room, arm around Rogue as they disappear. You sigh, rubbing your cheeks to make the heat go away, Kurt only smiling wider as he slips his present box back in the bag. Holding up the necklace, he gives it one last look before turning your face back to look at his.

"Could you help me put this on so I can show my gift to everyone, mein Schatz?"

All content on this page is fictional and I do not condone the acts I enjoy in a fictional sense. I don't consent to my work being reposted or translated.

#x men #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner x fem reader #xmen x reader #x men 97 #kurt wagner #nightcrawler x reader #Nightcrawler x fem reader #nightcrawler

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milliesfishes · 2 months ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎSilver Bells౨ৎ꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎ12 Days of Christmas Masterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: fluff :) pairing: fem reader x young politician coriolanus snow summary: coriolanus doesn't understand why you want to decorate the tree yourself, but you insist author’s note: welcome to the first fic of twelve this month!! I hope you love them as much as I do <3 Spotify Playlist

The smell of fresh pine cut through the air of your home, filling you with a sense of whimsy that you were sure would stay for the rest of the season. You stopped, leaning against the wall and balancing the box of ornaments on your hip. A smile crept up your lips, and you shook your hair back, the mere idea of what you were about to do filling you with holiday joy.

Gliding into the living room where your husband was reading a report from his favorite chair, you set the box down and knelt at his feet, folding your arms on his knees and resting your chin there. He lowered what he was reading, raising his eyebrows. "Yes, darling?"

You gave him a sweet smile when he reached a hand out, smoothing back your hair. "Are you going to help me?"

"You know, the servants can just as easily do the tree as they did the rest of the house," Coriolanus remarked, giving you a fond look.

"But it's more fun to do it yourself," you insisted, surveying him with soft eyes. Though he was wearied by the day, it made him no less handsome. His hair had been gelled into place when he left this morning, but now you could see the hint of curl peeking out, softened by his fingers running through it. The tie he'd worn in the office was discarded and two buttons were undone at the top of his shirt.

Standing up, you reached your hands out. "Please? It'll be fun." You flexed your fingers, blinking innocently at him. "You'd deny your wife-?"

He stood, setting his report to the side neatly and sliding his arms around you, a kiss buried in your temple. Coriolanus smoothed the top of your head, lifting a strand of hair caught in your earring. "Never."

You bounced on your heels, pleased to have gotten your way.

And so it began. You eagerly opened boxes, gingerly lifting ornaments from their cushioned packaging and cooing over each one. Coriolanus patiently held decorations on his fingers by their hanging strings, smiling at you when you gushed over how excited you were about each one. He stood faithfully beside you, ornaments in the palms of his hands while you determined their perfect place on the prickly branches of the tree. The radio crooned soothing carols and you hummed along, smiling at the way Coriolanus' lips twitched upwards.

He didn't used to like music, the radio only there for decoration. But when you moved in you started flipping it on when you entered the room, twirling and singing along. He endured it stiffly for awhile, but about a month in you walked by his dark wood office door and heard the smooth sounds of the oldies station you favored.

Standing there, gently hanging a glass snowflake, you breathed in the pine scent, thankful once again that you had insisted on a real tree. Coriolanus, eager to give his wife what she wanted, had called for a massive thing to stand in the front room, and it looked rather pretty there against the snowy backdrop behind the window. But you had requested another tree, one to go in the living room. Simple and pretty, just for the two of you.

He'd hardly blinked at it, kissing your forehead and saying you knew what would look best. You knew something of your husband's past, of his struggles to scrape together anything that looked decent. There were remnants of his past in his mannerisms. In the way he valued nice things, the way he finished every bite on his plate. He enjoyed luxury, but not wasting money. It meant the world that he wanted to spoil you so, make your home look perfect the way you wanted it.

Additionally, he worked like a madman, almost paranoid that his fortune would disappear from between his fingers. So having him here, at your side hanging ornaments from the evergreen branches of your tree was a gift. A holiday miracle.

You stepped back, the box of ornaments emptied completely, only cardboard and bubble wrap left inside. Tugging Coryo back with you to view the full effect of the tree, you gave a little squeal, squeezing his elbow. "Oh, it looks so beautiful, doesn't it?"

"You did a wonderful job, darling," he praised, dropping his lips to your hair.

"Oh, I forgot the star!" Rushing over to the table, you picked up the golden burst, rays extending from the center like splayed fingers. You strained with all your might, but even in heels you couldn't reach the top of the tree.

A warm pair of hands found your waist, lifting you off your feet so the star in your hands was inches from the tip of the tree. You plunked it on top and Coriolanus set you down, sweeping your hair behind your shoulders. "There we are. Better?"

You nodded quickly, tugging on his sleeve. "Would you turn the lights off? I wanna see how it looks in the dark."

Dutifully, he went to the switch, waiting for you to click the twinkle lights on. The room went dark, and you stepped back to admire the effect. "Oh!"

Coriolanus appeared at your side, sliding his arms around your waist and pressing his cheek to the side of your head. You had the distinct impression that he was watching you, not the tree.

When you turned your head, he mouthed a kiss on your cheek. "You like it?"

"I love it!" You touched his big hands on your stomach, squeezing both. "Coryo..." Turning around in his arms, you cupped his face in your hands, kissing his cheek and leaving a red lipstick mark. "You're so sweet to me."

His smile warmed you like a cozy hearth, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck. Coriolanus hadn't let go, just tightened his arms around you when you shifted. He began to sway gently, and you squeezed him tighter when you realized it was to the melody from the radio.

"It's our first Christmas together," you murmured, bending a knee one at a time to kick your shoes off.

You could feel his smile in your hair. "Hardly."

"Our first Christmas married," you clarified, tapping him on the nape of his neck. Pulling back, you searched his eyes, lifting a hand to push back a wayward strand of his hair, loosened into a curl.

Catching your hand, Coriolanus pressed a kiss there, right over the diamond on your wedding ring. "What do you want for Christmas, darling? I don't think I've asked you yet."

"You give me so much already." With a smile, you kissed his other unmarked cheek. "You spoil me."

"Not nearly enough." He smoothed your hair, cupping your face with one hand. "You're my angel. Nothing could ever be too much." A sweet smile bloomed on your face as he dipped his head to kiss you. "I'm sure you've been overdoing it with your Christmas shopping too."

"Spending your money," you pointed out, and he shook his head, still rocking you back and forth with the music.

"What's mine is yours, sweetheart," he repeated, a favorite mantra of his. You could almost mouth what he said next, but you loved it. "I work hard for you." After you kissed him, Coriolanus chucked you under the chin, other hand rubbing your hip. "So tell me. What do you want for Christmas? Last year it was a wedding, and I gave you that. So what is it this year?"

You hummed, running a hand up and down his chest, subtly unbuttoning his shirt. "I want..." you paused, hand going to his belt, holding it for a moment. "...a kitten."

"A kitten?" His voice was only slightly breathier than normal.

"You like cats, don't you?" you asked, reaching through his shirt to flatten your warm palm on his chest. He was a sight with his half-undone shirt and a lipstick kiss on each cheek.

Coriolanus walked backwards to the sofa, sitting and holding you across his thighs. You played with the edges of his shirt, and he watched you fondly. "I do." He smoothed your sides where your dress had bunched up. "Theoretically...what color?"

"I like all the colors," you giggled.

He raised his eyebrows. "Shall I get white to match the furniture?"

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. "That might be a little too much." Thinking for a moment, you said, "I've always liked black cats. They're so sweet."

"Hmm." Coriolanus stroked your back. "I'll keep that in mind."

Lifting your head, you hummed a bit of the carol emanating from the radio. "Do you think it's snowing?"

"I'll make it so if you want it to be," he muttered, and you laughed, standing up and going to the window. Indeed, thick flakes were wafting from the sky, sticking to the icy grass.

Coming back to him, you quietly said, "It is," and he smiled, pleased as if he'd done it himself. You sat back on his lap, cheek to his shoulder as you looked at the tree. His hand settled on your stomach, securing you to him.

"It's going to be a perfect Christmas," you whispered, eyes on the tree still glowing. The candle you'd begun to burn was a peppermint one, the sharp scent tickling your nose and making you dream of wintery things.

"It will be." Unlike how you'd said it wishfully, Coriolanus said it as a promise. And you involuntarily cuddled into his chest, cozy and warm. Fire crackled in the hearth, warming your back. Coriolanus stroked your back. "I'm going to call up for tea in a minute."

"Hot chocolate?"

He smiled. "Peppermint hot chocolate."

You smiled, nuzzling his shoulder. Drumming his fingers on your thigh, Coriolanus said, "You'll need a new dress for the winter gala, won't you?"

"A red one," you confirmed, and he squeezed your thigh.

"I can take you shopping if you'd like tomorrow?" He drew little patterns on your leg as he made the suggestion.

"No work?"

"It's the holidays, darling," Coriolanus brushed it off. "I'm allowed to spend time with my wife."

You smiled, leaning in to press a third lipstick kiss to his cheek. Coriolanus looked satisfied, adjusting your dress over your knees when you said, "I'd love to."

The season wrapped you in all sorts of fuzzy feelings and scents and colors that brightened your world the same way he did. Christmas had always been your favorite, and it only became more so with him.

Coriolanus carefully reached around you to the house phone, dialing the number for service and holding the tightly coiled wire away from you so he could talk to the servant on the other end. You closed your eyes, letting the soothing echo of his voice in his chest draw you to rest for a moment. He'd wake you up when your drink got here, maybe even carry you to bed once it made you sleepier.

Setting the phone back in its red cradle, he lifted a hand to your hair, stroking it gently, warm palm only serving to make you feel safer. As you grew heavier against his chest, you swore you caught him humming under his breath along with the song on the radio. The one about bells in the city.

It twitched your lips up. If he'd been frozen cold before, now he was melting.

Right in the palm of your hand.

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christmastreesbarnsley · 2 months ago

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The first batch of #yorkshire grown #poinsettia are ready

Yorkshire Grown Poinsettia!

Plenty to choose from, lots of different varieties.

Why not pop in and have a look in the heated greenhouse?

Poinsettia like a warm even temperature. They like to go dry before watering.

They originate from Mexico! They do not like any draughts.

It is so wonderfully colourful right now in the heated greenhouse.

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Horsfields Nursery Tel:- 01226 790441

[email protected]

Horsfields Nursery

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South Yorkshire

S75 4JU

We are open seven days a week.

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Beautiful plants in a beautiful place

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mountaesan · 2 months ago

Text

[ 10 : 46 ] ; k. leehan

alternative title : baby , it's cold outside , 794 words , fluff, est. relationship

You tugged a corner of your blanket closer to your body, humming with contentment as you further nestled into the warm cocoon you had made for yourself. The soft glow of the winter morning filtered through the frosted window, casting tender rays of light on the walls. The door clicked open and your boyfriend stepped in, revealing himself and his fluffy morning hair in all its glory. His facial expression softened at the sight of you resting so comfortably in his bed.

“Good morning, baby,” he spoke softly. His footsteps approached the side of the bed where you laid. “C’mon, it’s time to wake up. We’ve got lots to do today.”

You grumbled as you shifted under the duvet, tugging the fabric over your head with a loud pout. “It’s colddddd, Hannie, and it’s so warm in here.”

“I know, baby. But we have to get ready. Jaehyun and Woonhak are going to be here in less than an hour.”

You poked your head out of the makeshift cave you had made out of the blanket, peeking up at your boyfriend who smiled down at you with a loving smile. “Ten more minutes?”

Leehan’s resolve crumbled the moment he saw your pout and the sleepy glint in your eyes. He sighed dramatically as he looked down at you, still tucked snugly in your blanket fortress. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” you teased, grinning as you burrowed deeper into the duvet.

With a soft chuckle, he shrugged off his sweater and climbed back into bed next to you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and you squealed softly as his cold hands found your waist, pulling you against him.

“Leehan!” you gasped, squirming as his icy fingers sent shivers up your spine.

“Payback,” he said with a small smirk, though he was quick to tuck his hands under the blanket, letting your shared warmth build. “There. Better?”

“Much better,” you mumbled, snuggling into his chest. His scent–clean and warm, like fresh laundry–filled your senses, and the sound of his steady heartbeat began to lull you back to the edge of sleep.

For a moment, the two of you simply laid there, your legs tangled together under the blankets. The muffled sounds of the world outside only made the bed feel even more like a haven, safe and untouched by the cold winter morning.

“So,” Leehan began softly, his voice barely above a murmur. “What’s the grand plan for today?”

You smiled sleepily, tracing lazy patterns on his arm with your finger. “Christmas tree shopping first. Then maybe that market downtown? You said you wanted to check out the handmade ornaments, remember?”

“Mm, sounds like a lot of walking in the cold,” he teased, though his voice carried no real protest. “Are you sure Jaehyun and Woonhak are going to be able to handle that?”

You hummed, pressing your face against your boyfriend’s chest, making your voice come out mumbled. “Oh, they will.”

He chuckled and rested his chin atop of your head. “What about right now? Any plans?”

“Yeah,” you replied, grinning. “Getting out of bed. We need to go–”

Before you could finish your sentence, Leehan tightened his arms around you, pinning you in place. “Absolutely not. It’s freezing out there, and we’re already so comfortable.”

“Leehan,” you warned half-heartedly, but your resolve wavered the moment he looked at you with those dark, round eyes.

“Baby,” he mumbled, voice low and sweet. “It’s cold outside. Don’t make me go out there yet. Please?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes but laughing anyway. “You’re so bad at sticking to plans.”

“Not true,” he countered with a grin. “This plan, staying here with you, is going perfectly.”

And so, you gave in.

Leehan fished his phone out from the nightstand, his other arm still holding you close. Typing lazily with one hand, he sent a quick message to the group chat.

“Let me guess,” you mumbled against his chest. “Telling them you’re bailing because you’d rather be lazy with me?”

“Not lazy,” he corrected with a cheeky grin. “Strategically prioritizing warmth and quality time with my one and only.” He hit send and tossed the phone aside. “Jaehyun’s already saying ‘GMFU crying emoji’, by the way. Whatever that means.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you,” he countered smoothly, pulling you even closer as you both settled back into the bed. The winter morning drifted by slowly, warm and drowsy, and by the time the sun climbed higher in the sky, both of you had drifted off. You were tangled together in a heap of blankets and soft, shared warmth. Whatever waited for the two of you outside could wait just a little longer.

wrote this in the comfort and warmth of my own bed . . . but alas no leehan (◞‸◟) merry christmas and happy holidays !

ᰋ liked this ? consider liking, reblogging, or providing feedback !

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loverboykirstein · 2 months ago

Text

sdv secret santa // sugar and spice

sebastian (sdv) x afab!reader

wc: 1470

mdni -> toys/vibrators, oral (reader receiving), fingering, pet names

***fixing the red ribbon bows in your hair, you emerged from your bedroom to the sight of sebastian on your couch, holding a small box wrapped in gold paper.

staring at him for just a moment, your eyes met, a slight flush to his face, fidgeting ever so slightly with the frays on his jeans.

“what’s this?” you giggle, leaning over him, hands behind your back. “it’s not christmas yet,”.

“i just wanted to beat santa, obviously,” a small laugh, soft hand pulling you to sit next to him. “c’monnn, open,”.

gently opening the paper along the folded edges, met with a sleek box that made your face run hot. i know we talked about these, i didn’t think he’d actually get one***

ᥫ᭡。thank you @bvnnybrains for asking me to participate in this!!! i hope i fulfilled your wishes and created a reader that fit you! mwuah!! ᥫ᭡。

the life you had begged for, cried for, pleaded for, filled your log cabin with cinnamon and vanilla that soaked your airways, settling at the base of your throat.

your dogs napping by the warmth of the fireplace, cuddled up against each other without a single care in the world.

the suns setting rays saying their goodbyes through blinding orange streaks through your double-paned glass, missing its warmth already.

“c’mere,” sebastian ushered you over, snowman printed oven mitts covering his hands.

a small skip in your step, bubbling with excitement as your infinite wait was over.

twelve near perfect cookies, baked to perfection, more than ready to replace your dinner with as many as your heart desired. what else were you supposed to do on christmas eve?

“open,” sebastian hummed, catching your chin under his finger to pull your attention towards him.

pulling apart a fresh baked treat, rewarding your obedience with sugar and spice, mixed with the love they had been missing all this time.

“oh my god,” a soft hum from your chest, a satisfied smirk on seb’s lips as he wiped away the crumbs on yours. “these are so good,”.

“now get your cute ass ready, don’t we have somewhere to be?”

skipping off to the bedroom, rushing for no real reason at his gentle demand.

with the sun shutting its eyes, power grids took over, illuminating hundreds of thousands of lights strung across yards, roofs, trees, and everything in between far beyond your comprehension.

sure, the valley had many, but you were dying to see the neighborhoods that lined the outskirts of Zuzu, rich families who didn’t mind the electric bill that came with their decorations.

and besides, it was the anniversary of your first date together, this was a celebration of swallowed nerves and a shared first kiss. of course you were excited.

despite the snow coating your farm, you put on your favorite dress, yellow with little red flowers, covering your arms with a matching red sweater.

you knew he already started your yellow volkswagen, giving her ample time to warm up before taking her out on the salted roads towards Zuzu, knowing you only needed to face the cold for a few short seconds.

fixing the red ribbon bows in your hair, you emerged from your bedroom to the sight of sebastian on your couch, holding a small box wrapped in gold paper.

staring at him for just a moment, your eyes met, a slight flush to his face, fidgeting ever so slightly with the frays on his jeans.

“what’s this?” you giggle, leaning over him, hands behind your back. “it’s not christmas yet,”.

“i just wanted to beat santa, obviously,” a small laugh, soft hand pulling you to sit next to him. “c’monnn, open,”.

gently opening the paper along the folded edges, met with a sleek box that made your face run hot.

i know we talked about these, i didn’t think he’d actually get one.

“is this..?” you looked up at him, doe eyes shimmering, nervous excitement bubbling in your tummy.

“mhm, let’s try it out, see if you can handle it,” he peppered a few small kisses on your jawline, a shiver down your spine that mixed with the swell of your burning hot blood.

far out of your agreed upon budget, a bluetooth vibrator that worked inside and outside, built to nestle up to your cunt under your panties.

“will you help me?” looking at the purple toy, you fell a little confused, worsened by your embarrassment, pulling you shy and submissive, something seb hadn’t yet experienced since your stumbled introduction the very first time you met.

knowing it would be a bit of a stretch to even get it in, you took this chance to play dumb, to see him fall apart at your request.

“what’cha need help with, hmm?” his purrs melted your insides, bones mushy and fingertips tingling.

“y-y’know…getting it in ‘n stuff,” you shrugged, a slight pout on your lips.

“i think i can make that happen, bunny,”. his thumb brushed against your lip, still jutted slightly at your exaggerated embarrassment, drawing a slight giggle from the depths of your lungs.

“be a good girl and don’t get greedy, m’kay?” his tone fell deeper, stronger.

you nodded as you watched him fall to his knees, pushing your thighs apart to welcome him in.

feathered kisses met the plush of your thighs, vein-ridden hands pushing the skirt of your dress up high enough to expose the panties that matched the ribbons upon your hair.

his heavy breathing tickled your skin, warm against the slick you barely noticed already pooling out of you.

“off, now,” his tug at the red fabric barely holding on to your false innocence, you lifted your hips just enough for him to yank them off you, throwing them on the floor.

leaving no time for games, no teases that made you beg for more more more, he drug his tongue up your slit, brushing against your clit just enough to send vibrations through your skull.

hands on either thigh, he pulled you closer, suffocating in your scent and ready to die right there.

his tongue starved for more, dancing around your hole as you squirmed under his touch, restraining your hips from bucking into him entirely.

“ ‘s fucking good,” he mumbled under his breath, sloppy sucks on your already aching clit, drawing breathy moans out past your bitten lips. “ ‘s fuckin’ good for me,”.

he somehow always managed to unravel you in a matter of seconds, pulling apart the threads that held your thoughts together.

“baby..” you whined in frustration, so easily wound up from such a short moment of lost touch.

ignoring your whine for attention, he made a mess of his face instead, your syrup mixing with his saliva, dripping down your cunt and coating his lips.

“babyyyy..” you whined again, allowing your hips to kick into him, wanting so much more from him, needing more from him.

running your fingers through his hair, you tried to pull his face away, forcing him to pay attention to your pleas.

“what did i say about getting greedy, hm?” he unwillingly pulled away, a shimmer of deviance in the corners of his eyes.

you huffed out in annoyance, jutting your lip out again at his remark, knowing that there was no way on planet earth you wouldn’t get greedy with him between your legs.

despite his passive reprimand, you felt the cold touch of his fingertips trace your swollen slit, middle dipping into your squishy hole without warning.

a single sharp gasp pooled out from your open lips, jaw already slacked. rhythmic in nature, pumping in and out of you at an agonizing pace.

“babyyyyy…” you whined again, wiggling your hips towards him in fevered need.

“yes, bunny?” his words slightly slurred, eyes blown out as they were pulled away from your sopping wet cunt, slick pooling into his hand.

“another?” you dressed your wish in sugarcane, too sweet refuse.

wordlessly accepting your plea, slipping his ring finger in right beside.

slow scissoring, gushy pumps as he barely stretched you out, just enough to his liking.

quiet whimpers, goosebump ridden skin, wanting so much more.

as quickly as his fingers filled your hole, they were gone, leaving you whimpering in frustration.

his fingertips glossy against the light as he pulled away, fingers finding the toy he had already prepared for you before settling it back into its box.

“you ready?” he looked at you through his lashes, eyes glassy, matching his lips.

“mhmm,” you nodded, chest and neck burning up with your unexpected excitement.

cold to the touch, he coated the silicone in the mix of spit and slick, slowly circling around your entrance until you silently begged for more friction, trying to restrain yourself as much as you could.

dipping the toy inside your already desperate walls, hissing at the stretch forced so quickly.

uncomfortably full with something other than his cock, silicone end snuggled up your slit to press against your swollen bud.

“now..you ready..?” he raised from his knees, pulling your skirt back over the sticky mess of your pussy.

a meek nod, still adjusting to the weight of the toy inside your tight, gummy walls.

slipping his phone out from his back pocket, a few swipes as you picked at the side of your thumb, startled at the sudden wave of vibrations buzzing inside and out.

bitten lip whimpers, pushing your thighs together at the unfamiliar feeling, collapsing into it nonetheless.

through his hooded stare, his thumb toying with the pulses and strengths, watching your nerve endings react to each change.

“c’mon darling, the lights are waiting for you. gotta prove you can still stay on the nice list, yeah?”.

he’s so going to pay for this.

--------------------

it's a miracle i finished a work on time! i hope you enjoyed! mwuah!

ᥫ᭡。

#stardew valley #sdv sebastian #sdv smut #sdv #sdv fanfic #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #sdv sebastian smut #sebastian stardew valley #stardew sebastian #stardew valley fanfic #bvnnybrains

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