#i immediately regretted doing a snow angel

[joelsrose]

First Date? Part 6

Hi my angels, here is a long awaited part 6 xx its a tad bit shorter but i wanted to give you guys somethin as ive been holding out on yall. i love you guys sooo much pls enjoy - there will be another chapter!!

previous chapter

word count: 6k words

The days blurred together in an endless, suffocating loop, stretching out like an expanse of barren land where nothing grew, where nothing changed, where time was both crawling and slipping through your fingers.

You barely left the house. You barely ate. You barely slept.

It was pathetic, really— sulking like a heartbroken girl convinced her world had shattered over a boy, except this wasn’t even that. There had been no confession, no love declared and returned, no sweet promises broken. Just a drunken moment, a slip of the tongue, a feeling dragged into the light and left there to wilt under his silence.

And Joel—Joel hadn’t come to see you. Hadn’t so much as looked in your direction. He was out there, moving through the world, working, speaking, drinking, doing anything and everything except facing what he’d done. A part of you hated him for it. Not just for walking away, but for making you feel stupid for ever believing he might have stayed.

Spring crept in slow and golden, its warmth seeping into the bones of Jackson, melting away the last remnants of winter, softening the air, making the rivers swell and the ground smell of damp earth.

The whole world was moving forward. Days stretched longer, the snow thinned into streams, the buds bloomed against sun-warmed wood.

And yet you remained unchanged, frozen beneath the thaw, untouched by the season’s promise of renewal.

Regret sat thick in your chest, wound tight as barbed wire, pressing sharp against your ribs, scraping with every breath. You regretted it all—getting drunk, speaking too freely, telling him you loved—

No.

You regretted feeling anything for him at all.

Whatever it was—this raw, impossible, consuming thing that had settled deep inside you—it had become something you could neither hold nor rid yourself of.

It pushed and pulled, twisted and tore, made you ache with longing and fury all at once, until the two bled together so thoroughly that you could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.

And at night, when the world quieted and the town lay still beneath the silver glow of the moon, you thought of him.

Spring had arrived, but it had done nothing for you.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You forced yourself out of the house today, dragging yourself from the tangled sheets and the stale air of your room.

It took effort—more than it should have—to pull a brush through your hair, to find clothes that didn’t reek of days spent in bed, to step outside and face the world that had continued to turn without you.

You walked without purpose, without real direction, but your feet knew where to take you before your mind did, leading you down the familiar path toward the stables, toward something steady, something safe.

When you reached the stables, you pushed the door open without thinking, the familiar creak of the hinges breaking the silence. The smell of leather and hay washed over you immediately—warm, steady, safe, like stepping into a memory that wasn’t yours but still felt like home.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tightness in your ribs loosened, if only just a fraction. Your eyes found Winnie in her stall, the sight of her sending the smallest most fragile flicker of warmth through you.

Your girl. She was still here. Still waiting.

Her ears twitched at the sound of your boots scraping against the dirt floor. You moved toward her and reached for the stall door, brushing your fingers over the worn wood, when a sound stopped you cold.

A click. Subtle, metallic. Deliberate.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t dare look up. But you didn’t need to. You knew that sound. Knew it better than you wanted to.

When you finally lifted your head, your heart gave a heavy, painful lurch in your chest.

Joel was there.

He sat on the bench against the far wall, half-shrouded in the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the wood. His broad shoulders were hunched forward, his head bent low as he worked the gun in his hands, his fingers moving with an ease that didn’t match the tension carved into his face. His brow was furrowed, his mouth a tight, hard line, his eyes fixed on the task as if he could will away whatever thoughts had followed him here.

He looked good—too good—caught in the kind of light that didn’t seem fair, the soft, golden rays spilling through the gaps in the barn walls, framing him like something meant to be remembered, something holy.

The warmth of the day had coaxed him out of his usual layers, leaving him in nothing but a faded t-shirt that clung to him in a way that made you forget how to breathe. The fabric stretched taut over broad shoulders, hinting at the strength beneath, the sleeves brushing just enough to expose the curve of his biceps, the hard lines of his forearms—a quiet, unassuming display of power he didn’t even seem aware of.

The sunlight kissed his skin as though it had been made for him alone, drenching him in gold, illuminating every ridge and valley of his face, deepening the ruggedness carved into his features by time, by loss, by the weight of things unspoken.

Shadows stretched across his skin, soft and reverent, tracing the faint scars along his forearms like scripture, like devotion, like something sacred.

The weathered roughness of him—the calloused hands, the lines around his mouth that spoke of too many battles fought, too many nights spent awake—only added to the unbearable beauty of his presence. His hair was tousled, unkempt in a way that was careless but perfect, the strands falling over his forehead like they had a mind of their own.

And then he looked up.

It wasn’t just a glance. It never was with him.

His eyes—God, his eyes.

A deep, sin-darkened brown, rich and endless, like the earth after rainfall, like soil warm beneath the sun, like something meant to swallow you whole and never let you go.

They held depth, a heaviness, a sorrow that ran deeper than flesh, deeper than blood, something ancient, something eternal.

They were the kind of eyes that had seen too much, carried too much, and yet they softened when they found you, dark lashes casting shadows against his cheeks, gaze sinking into you like a whispered prayer.

For a moment—just a breath, just a heartbeat—the barn, the sunlit dust floating in the air, the aching hollow in your chest—it all ceased to exist. There was only him.

“Hey,” he murmured, soft and coaxing, a word wrapped in something gentle, something unfamiliar—so distinctly opposite to the man he was, it almost felt like a trick of the light.

Your breath hitched, stomach twisting, and you swallowed hard, tearing your gaze away with a force that nearly unsteadied you, as though breaking eye contact might somehow lessen the hold he had on you. As though not looking at him might make it hurt less.

“Hi,” you muttered, barely more than breath, barely more than sound, your voice catching against the tightness in your throat. You forced yourself to focus on Winnie, on the warmth of her nose beneath your trembling fingers, on the steady rise and fall of her breath.

“How are you?” His voice was soft, careful, like he was stepping onto thin ice, aware that any wrong move could send everything crashing into the freezing depths.

“I’m fine.” The words slipped out too quickly, too sharp, the lie embedded in every syllable. You hated the way your voice trembled at the edges, betraying the knot of tension in your throat. In your peripheral vision, you saw him shift, his jaw tightening, the slight clench of muscle betraying the sting of your tone.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t push, just nodded once—a short, measured motion, his expression unreadable as though bracing himself for the silence that followed.

Then—after what could’ve been moments, or minutes, or an eternity—his voice came again, cutting through the stillness like a blade softened at the edges, quieter this time, barely above a whisper, so gentle you might have missed it if not for the way it curled around you, wrapped tight and unshakable.

"Hey."

It was softer than before, rougher somehow, like it wasn’t meant to be spoken aloud, like it had been pulled straight from something raw and aching inside him.

You shouldn’t have turned. Shouldn’t have looked. But you did. Your heart stammered, stumbled, its rhythm uneven, a weak, faltering thing, as you turned your head just enough to catch sight of him.

"C’mere."

Two syllables. Quiet. Coaxing. His voice held that same impossible ache, that quiet longing, like he was pulling at a thread neither of you had the strength to break.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t move.

His fingers curled slightly at his sides, a subtle motion, barely a movement at all, but somehow it still carried weight, as if the gesture alone had the power to pull you closer, as if some invisible tether had wrapped around you both, dragging you toward something inevitable. His eyes were locked onto yours, deep and dark and unreadable, except—no. No, they weren’t unreadable at all. They were speaking, murmuring, pleading.

"You’re too far away."

The look he gave you—it was unbearable. The weight of it, the sheer intensity of it, the way it stripped you down with nothing but silence.

Your fingers curled against the edge of Winnie’s stall, gripping the rough wood like a lifeline. "I’m fine here," you murmured, the words quiet, forced, barely scraping past the tightness in your chest.

His brow furrowed. A flicker of something crossed his face, there and then gone again, replaced by something unreadable. But then his voice came again—low, rough, frayed at the edges, like a thread pulling taut, like something on the verge of snapping.

"I ain’t gonna bite."

There was something wry in it, something that might’ve made you smile if your ribs didn’t feel like they were caving in. Almost. But even his quiet attempt at humor couldn’t mask the weight in his voice, the guilt clinging to him like a second skin.

And still—you didn’t move.

He exhaled then, the sound quiet but heavy.

Then—soft. Barely more than breath.

"Please."

Before you could stop yourself, before logic or pride could anchor you to the ground, you moved. It was terrifying, how easy it was to move toward him after everything, how little resistance your body put up against the very thing you had sworn to fight.

You didn’t dare look at him, didn’t dare lift your gaze and risk seeing what might be waiting there, because you knew—you knew it would ruin you, that it would be too much, that whatever flickered in his eyes would only make the ache in your chest worse.

You reached the bench before you had the chance to second-guess yourself. You sat stiffly, carefully, deliberately leaving space between you, hands gripping your knees as though keeping them still might somehow keep your heart from threatening to break free from your ribs.

Joel's gun sat forgotten at his feet, abandoned without a second thought, but you could feel his attention locked onto you, unwavering, unrelenting.

You didn’t have to look to know that he had turned toward you, that his body had angled ever so slightly in your direction, that his shoulders had shifted like he was preparing himself for something, bracing himself against a force greater than either of you knew how to name.

Joel noticed the gap you had left. Of course, he noticed. He always noticed.

You saw it in the way his gaze dropped to the empty space between you, in the way his lips pressed into a faint line, in the way something in his expression tightened, just for a second, just long enough for you to catch it before he forced it away.

He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. You felt it. The quiet, unspoken wish, the way he longed for you to close the distance, the way he wanted—needed—you to reach for him first.

You saw it in the way his fingers curled loosely over his knee, in the way his shoulders tensed as if holding himself back, as if waiting.

He wanted you to lean into him, to let the warmth of your leg brush against his, to rest your head on his shoulder the way you used to, to fold into him like it was something instinctive, something natural, something you had both forgotten how to live without.

He wanted it more than he would ever let himself admit. But he didn’t ask. He wouldn’t. Because he couldn’t. Because he was the one who had walked away. Because he was the one who had put the distance there in the first place.

You swallowed hard, the tension coiling tighter with every second of silence. Words caught in your throat, heavy and clumsy, and you were scrambling for something—anything—to break it.

“Thanks—” you started, the word barely out before his voice cut through yours.

“Can we talk—”

The two of you froze, words colliding mid-air, tangled and awkward, stumbling over each other in the thick silence that stretched between you.

It was ridiculous, really—how hesitant, how unsure you both suddenly were, as if the past week of distance had left you fumbling, out of sync, two halves of something that used to fit but now felt just a little off-kilter.

Your eyes darted to his, startled, unsure, and found him already looking at you, his brows drawing together ever so slightly, the barest flicker of something indecipherable passing over his face—something caught between an apology and quiet amusement.

Neither of you spoke, neither of you moved, and the moment stretched long, thick with something almost unbearable, something teetering on the edge of too much, until the sheer absurdity of it—the hesitation, the silence, the way you were both acting like strangers—finally broke you.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest before you could stop it, breathless and unsteady, soft around the edges, but real, and the second it escaped, something in him shifted.

His expression changed, subtle but devastating, the lines of his face loosening just slightly, as if the sound of your laughter had reached into some hidden part of him and shaken something loose.

He blinked, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, like he had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

His lips parted slightly, caught between surprise and something softer, and for a moment, it looked as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. And then—

He smiled.

Not just a polite smile, not the distant, barely-there twitch of his lips he gave when he wanted to keep people at arm’s length.

No, this was different.

It was crooked and boyish, unguarded in a way that was almost maddening, something warm and reckless and so infuriatingly, devastatingly Joel that it felt like a punch to the chest.

It made him look younger, somehow—not in age, not in years, but in a way that made your throat tighten, in a way that made you ache.

And God, it was so Joel.

That impossible contradiction of him—the man who had lived through more than most could ever comprehend, who carried the weight of too many ghosts, but who could still look at you like that, like he had been caught off guard by something good, something soft, something he hadn’t quite believed he’d get to have again.

It was boyish and rugged, maddeningly beautiful, something both careless and careful all at once. Like an angel who had long since fallen, like a devil who had learned the art of tenderness, like something carved from both sin and devotion.

"Sorry." The word barely scraped past your lips, quiet, uncertain, almost fragile. Heat flooded your face before you could control it, rushing up from your chest, blooming hot beneath your skin, betraying you. And Joel—of course he noticed.

You saw the way his eyes flickered, how they lingered just a second too long, how something in his expression shifted, subtle but devastating, like he wasn’t just looking at you—he was feeling you, imagining the warmth of your skin against his, the press of your body, the way heat lived in your veins the same way it did in his.

Blood with blood. Flesh and bone. It was a fleeting thought, something primal, something dangerous, but it rooted itself deep inside him, settled into the quiet places he tried not to think about.

You dropped your gaze before you could drown in the weight of it, fixing your eyes on the dirt floor beneath your boots as though it held something worth looking at, as though the uneven, scuffed earth could offer you an escape, a place to rest your attention instead of meeting the impossible intensity of his stare.

And then he chuckled, low and quiet, a sound so warm and unguarded that it forced you to look at him, as if your body had decided before your mind had caught up.

He shifted slightly, his shoulders rolling beneath the weight of your gaze, his body adjusting like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself, like you were the thing making him nervous.

And then you saw it.

The faint blush creeping along the edges of his ears.

Joel Miller—this strong, unshakable, impossible man—was blushing.

"Don’t apologize." The words were soft, meant only for you. "You go first."

You hesitated, your fingers clenching slightly against your lap, unsure, unsteady.

And then, softer this time, lower, steadier, his voice curling through the thick air and settling over you like something warm, something solid—

"Go on."

“I, um…” The words caught in your throat, fragile and uneven.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you murmured finally, barely above a whisper, as if speaking them aloud might steal the last of your courage. “For taking me home the other night.”

He froze. The subtle rhythm of his movements—the faint sway of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched against his knee—stilled completely.

“What?” The single word came low and careful, but you heard it—the faint tremor just beneath the surface.

His head tilted slightly, and his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, your skin flush. Those dark eyes searched you, narrowing slightly, as if the answer to his confusion might be written somewhere on your face.

Thank me? The question didn’t leave his lips, but it hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable, his silence thick with thoughts he couldn’t bring himself to voice.

For what? For leaving you when you needed him most? For all the ways he’d failed you, all the promises he’d never kept? The questions burned in his eyes, sharp and unrelenting, but he swallowed them back.

You pressed on, your voice trembling, your fingers curling into the rough wood of the bench to ground yourself. “I don’t…” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sound steady even as your chest felt like it might cave in.

“I don’t remember much from that night,” you lied, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, each syllable heavier than the last. “Maria told me you… you took me home?”

Joel looked at you like he was trying to make sense of something, trying to find an anchor in a sea of things unsaid.

“Yeah,” he murmured finally, his voice rough, barely audible. “I did.” His eyes searched yours, dark and intent, like they were trying to pull the truth from you, to find something you weren’t ready to give.

“You don’t remember,” he said, so softly it barely reached your ears.

You don’t remember saying—

"I more than care about you. I love—"

He could still hear it. Still feel it like a ghost against his skin, something whispered, something fragile, something that had hit him so hard it had knocked the breath from his lungs.

And maybe if he were a different man, if he were better, he would’ve stayed. He would’ve let himself believe that you meant it, that it wasn’t just the alcohol speaking, that maybe—maybe—it was something real, something he could hold on to.

But instead—he had walked away.

And now, sitting here, listening to you say you didn’t remember, he wasn’t sure if it was a relief or a knife to the gut.

Because if you did remember, and you were pretending you didn’t, it meant you regretted it.

And if you really didn’t remember—

Then maybe you hadn’t meant it at all.

“You don’t gotta thank me,” he murmured finally, his voice rough, dragged out like it hurt to speak.

A pause. A breath. And then—

“You really don’t remember anything?” The words were quieter this time, almost hesitant, edged with something he couldn’t hide quickly enough.

“No,” you said softly, shaking your head.

The lie burned its way up your throat, scorching and bitter, but you forced it down, swallowing hard as you buried it deep.

“The last thing I remember is being sprawled out on Tommy’s living room floor.” You let out a brittle laugh, sharp and hollow, the sound grating against the stillness like shattered glass. “I must’ve made a fool of myself.”

He looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line as though holding back words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“I shouldn’t’ve let you drink that much,” he muttered finally, his voice quieter now, almost rough with regret. “That was on me.”

“You didn’t let me,” you said quietly, your voice wavering as you forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I made my own choices. I always do.”.

“Right,” he said finally, the word flat, drained of life, like it had been dragged out of him against his will.

God, his eyes. They were dark and intense, warmth swallowed by the storm of frustration and something far more devastating. Something that looked a lot like hurt. Those eyes—deep, unwavering, devastating—held only you, burned into yours with an intensity that felt like it might unravel you, echoing the silent, aching question that sat heavy between you - Why are you lying to me?

“Anyways,” you blurted, the word tumbling out too quickly, too sharp, cracking under the weight of his stare. You risked a glance at him, hoping for a reprieve, but his gaze had already shifted, fixed on some distant point like he could will himself anywhere but here.

“You were gonna say something before?” you asked, the question tentative, your breath catching as you waited for him to answer.

Joel blinked, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second before he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Oh. Yeah,” he muttered.

“Tommy and I are headin’ out on a two-day patrol. Overnight,” he said finally, his words slow and deliberate. He hesitated, his voice faltering before finishing softly, “So… I won’t be here.”

The realization struck you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for, the ache blooming in your chest so sharply and suddenly it felt like the air had been stolen from your lungs.

Two days.

It wasn’t a long time—not really, not when measured against the steady pulse of Jackson’s days or the quiet, unspoken permanence of the life you’d built here—but the thought of him out there, beyond the gates, scraped against something raw, something tender, something that ached before it even had the chance to bruise.

“Right,” you said, your voice quiet, brittle, as you fought to keep it steady. You forced a shrug, hoping it looked nonchalant, but it felt like it might shatter you. “Well… be careful, I guess.”

He watched you closely, his gaze fixed on the way your hands remained tightly clasped in your lap, fidgeting with nothing, refusing to find any anchor beyond yourself. You wouldn’t look at him—not really—and the absence of your gaze, the way you kept your eyes so firmly averted, felt like a hollow ache in his chest that he couldn’t ignore.

“Always am,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady, though a softness lingered just beneath, barely there but impossible to ignore.

His mind, unbidden and bitter, dragged him back to just a week ago, to a version of you who might’ve thrown your arms around his neck without a second thought, laughing as you made some teasing comment about him pulling his back out or grumbling about having to carry Tommy’s weight.

He could almost hear your voice, light and familiar, cutting through the heavy moments like it was nothing, like it had always been your natural gift to lift the impossible weight of the world off his shoulders without even trying.

You would’ve made him laugh, he was sure of it—really laugh, the kind of laugh that didn’t feel like it had to fight its way past the hardness of the life he carried.

A thought, wicked and insidious, placed there by the devil himself—selfish, desperate, utterly inappropriate for the fragile tension strung between you—urged him to kiss you, to press his lips to yours and steal away the hurt, to show you, not with words but with touch, just how much he needed you.

But all he could do was sit there, helpless and aching, watching as you pulled further away, retreating into yourself like a tide slipping from the shore, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake.

And before he could stop himself, before the rational part of his mind could scream loud enough to pull him back from the reckless, selfish thing he was about to do, his hand moved.

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t even something he thought about—it just happened, slow and deliberate, like instinct had taken over, like it was something he was meant to do all along.

His fingers found your cheek, rough and calloused against the softness of your skin, the contrast so sharp it made his chest tighten, made something deep and aching bloom in the space between you.

His thumb moved, treacherous and traitorous, dragging slowly along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward him with a reverence that felt almost sacred.

It was a betrayal of everything he’d been trying so hard to hold back, an admission he hadn’t meant to make, but he couldn’t stop himself now. His breathing hitched when your lips parted, soft and uncertain, the warmth of your stuttered breath brushing against his fingertips like a quiet plea, like something unspoken passing between you.

And still, his thumb moved again, dragging over your bottom lip this time, so slow, so careful, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him, as if this tiny act of closeness could somehow soothe the ache that had settled so deeply in his chest. It was reverent, desperate, dangerous—a quiet, trembling act of defiance against the walls he’d spent so long building.

His heart hammered against his ribs as his thumb lingered there, just a moment longer than it should have, and when your throat bobbed, when your breath stuttered again, he felt his control slipping further, felt himself drowning in everything he wasn’t supposed to want.

"Be good," he murmured finally, his voice low and rough, breaking under the weight of everything he couldn’t bring himself to say.

"Take care of yourself while I’m gone," he added, quieter this time, almost too soft to hear, and the words felt like they cost him something, like each one dragged a piece of him out with it. And then, as if the act of speaking hadn’t already been enough to break him, he swallowed hard and breathed, "You need anything, you go to Maria, okay?"

You didn’t answer—not right away, not in the way he had hoped, in the way that might’ve made this easier. Instead, you just breathed, sharp and uneven, the weight of it pressing into the space between you, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, slowly, like it physically pained you to do it, you shifted back, putting distance where there had been none. His touch slipped from your skin, his thumb no longer caught in the trance of you, no longer resting against the softness of your lips.

And because the silence threatened to swallow him whole, because he couldn’t bear the ache of it anymore, he did the only thing he could—he stood abruptly, the old wooden bench groaning loudly under the force of his movement.

It was sharp, unsteady, almost frantic, like he was trying to outrun whatever had settled between you. He reached for his rifle, grabbing it with more force than was necessary, slinging it over his shoulder in one quick motion, his jaw so tight it sent a sharp ache through his teeth.

"Well," he muttered finally, his voice low and rough, barely carrying the weight of the words. "I better get goin’."

You nodded once, a quick, small movement, like it was all you could manage.

Joel stood there for a second too long, hesitating, his fingers twitching slightly at his side like they wanted to reach for you one last time, like they couldn’t help themselves.

But then he forced himself to move, his steps slow and deliberate, each one feeling heavier than the last as he turned and walked toward the door.

The stable door groaned under Joel’s weight as he pushed it open, the late afternoon sun spilling in behind him in a flood of warm, golden light. The glow caught on the edges of his frame, outlining the broad cut of his shoulders, the curve of his neck, the tousled strands of his hair that curled just slightly in the heat. It painted him in shades of amber and firelight, casting uneven shadows across the dirt floor that stretched like reaching hands, as though the room itself couldn’t bear to let him go.

He paused there, one hand resting against the weathered wood, his fingers curling slightly into the grooves of it, as if something unseen was holding him back, as if leaving was harder than he’d expected it to be.

For a moment, you thought that was it. That he’d go. That he’d step into the light without another word, without sparing you a second glance, and leave you here, drowning in the ghost of his touch, in the heavy, suffocating ache of all the things you’d left unsaid.

And then, slowly, deliberately, he turned.

"Hey."

His voice was soft, a low, steady warmth that slipped through the silence like a balm, untying the knots that had coiled themselves so tightly in your chest.

You blinked, swallowing hard, dragging yourself out of the spiral that threatened to pull you under. “Yeah?”

"We’re okay, aren’t we?"

"Yeah. We’re good."

It was a lie. A terrible one. And the worst part was that you both knew it.

Joel’s jaw twitched—just the slightest flicker of movement, but it was enough. Enough for you to know he felt it, the weight of your dishonesty settling between you like a lead weight. He didn’t believe you. Of course, he didn’t. And you knew he didn’t. You saw it in the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides, in the way his chest rose with a slow, measured breath like he was holding something back, in the way his eyes stayed locked onto yours—steady, dark, searching.

And still, he didn’t call you on it. Didn’t say a word. He just stood there, staring at you, seeing you in that way only he ever did, like he could read every thought before you could even voice it, like he could reach inside you and pull out the truth no matter how hard you tried to bury it.

"Alright."

He turned then, his boots scuffing against the dirt as he stepped toward the open doorway.

And then—just like that—he was gone.

So quick. Too quick. Like a shadow disappearing the moment you tried to grasp it, slipping through your fingers before you could hold onto anything solid.

A shiver crawled up your spine as you stared at the empty space where he had been, something cold and unreal settling deep in your chest. It was dizzying, disorienting—had he even been here at all? Had you imagined the weight of his touch, the way his voice had softened, the quiet devastation in his eyes? Or had you conjured it out of thin air, a cruel trick of your own longing, your own inability to let go of something that had never truly been yours?

You weren’t a religious woman. Never had been. But there, in the quiet of that stable, with the last remnants of Joel’s presence still lingering in the air, you fell to your knees. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, before logic or pride could stop you, before you could convince yourself that it wouldn’t make a difference.

Your elbows braced against the edge of the bench where the two of you had sat only moments ago, your hands clasped together so tightly that your knuckles ached, and you begged.

Not to anyone in particular, not to anything you truly believed in, but to something—something holy, something divine, something greater than yourself.

You begged for the hole in your heart to heal, for the ache in your chest to ease, for the unbearable weight of loving him to lift from your shoulders.

You begged for the strength to let go, for the kind of peace that had always eluded you, for the impossible relief of forgetting what it felt like to need him. And, most of all, you prayed.

You prayed that he would come back safe.

And you prayed that one day, somehow, you would be able to stop loving him.

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[bobasthrone]

J X J <33 (Jesse X Jo) and my shitty snow angel

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

If I Could Melt Your Heart | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | One shot 5k

The end of the mission goes wrong when you fall through the ice. Bucky manages to get you to the safe house, unresponsive and hypothermic. Bucky worries for your safety, trying everything to warm you and melting the competitive animosity between you.

Warnings: 18+ for suggestions of sex, language and both Reader and Bucky being idiots. Flirting, frenemies to lovers nonsense, kissing. Whump, reader falls through ice, symptoms of hypothermia. Rated I and L for Idiots in Love.

Final divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The fall was easier than you thought it would be. Conditioned to have confidence in your decisions, you’d run across the ice fully expecting to reach the other side and then, just as suddenly as you’d made your decision, you were looking up at the sky between two walls of dark green water. 

The lake closed in just as fast, covering the sky, and your salvation, and panic set in, there was no air, your lungs burning from the cold and you gasped involuntarily, drinking in the crisp clean lake. It was over, the entire adventure was over, no more missions, no more tower, no more compound, no more galas and holidays and, worst of all, no more Bucky. 

No more late nights bickering over films, no more inventing reasons for him to be your partner during training, no more glances during meetings and arguments after briefing, just so he’d stay closer, just so he’d look at you a little longer. 

Despite everything you’d achieved, you’d wasted it all really, by not telling him how much you loved him. 

You closed your eyes, arms still beating in the water, heaving against the pack on your back dragging you down. 

The snow had come in fast, separating you from Sam and Steve. You'd meant to take a separate path each, converging on a safe house for extraction in the morning. Bucky had caught up with you a mile or two before. But somewhere in the storm you'd taken a wrong turn and now the darkness was closing in, your eyes fluttering closed, chest burning and Bucky still on the shore. 

Hands appeared, covered in Avengers issue gloves, one hauling you upwards, the other pushing on the clasp that held your pack and letting it fall into the water while lifting you into the biting air. A face glowed in the bright sun and you were happy to allow the angel to take you where they wanted, closing your eyes again seemed the only sensible thing to do, then at least you could dream about your regrets. 

Everything was hazy, but you knew you were being hustled into a safe house by the sound of the keypad beeping.

That's okay, maybe there's safe houses in the afterlife, maybe there's the crack of the fire and the cold won’t be so biting. 

When Bucky reached the safe house the wind had picked up, forcing him to wrestle the door open before half falling into the small porch, the wind no longer holding his weight. But he managed to keep you steady as he shuffled inside, locking the cold out behind him. 

He’d seen you go down, thinking you'd fallen, and had spotted the crack in the ice immediately after. It was clear where you’d gone wrong, leaving the track at the side of the lake, but he didn’t have time for that, he only had time to rush across the ice, sliding the last metre on his belly to stop it cracking further. 

Thankfully your pack had done its job and the two small buoyancy aids that Tony had added after the last jet crash were keeping you close to the surface. You were in shock though, eyes misty and for a heartbreaking second, as he dragged your flopping body onto the ice, Bucky wondered if he’d been too late. 

Beneath his fingers your pulse was still there, slow, but steady, and he flipped you onto your side and smacked your back as hard as he dared until you threw up the freezing water. 

He took a different way off the ice, just in case it had cracked under the soft snowfall. Carefully, he had trudged across a more dangerous ridge to reach the safe house faster, the snow storm picking up around him, aware of your solid weight on his back, his pack slung around to his front. It had still taken half an hour and all of his energy. 

By the time he’d placed you on the couch,  Bucky’s long hair was frozen at the ends where it had fallen from his black stealth issue snow hat. His lips were chapped and his shoulder ached where his prosthesis met the joint. But he could see you, and he could see you breathing and moving and you weren’t dead. 

He slumped to the floor and wiped a wet glove down his face, breathing out heavily. 

You'd argued, on the jet, about the drop site, about the evac, about the contents of your pack. There was always an argument, a bet, a challenge to be had with you, but he didn’t care as long as you were looking at him. And he’d never had the courage to tell you, to pin you to the mat when you sparred and tell you that he couldn’t go a day without seeing you. 

With another ragged breath he looked up. You were here, safe, together. 

Now what? 

Bucky called Sam and Steve’s emergency number together, hoping whoever wasn’t driving would pick up. He liked Sam and he trusted his medical judgement and while the tension in their friendship was easing, it was still easier with Steve around too. 

“That you, Buck?” Sam said, there was a distinct hum from the truck in the background that told Bucky they were on their way at least. Help is coming, Bucky told himself, you don’t have to take care of her alone, help is coming. 

“Bucky?” The side of Steve’s head appeared on the video call and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Thank god you picked up, things went from shit to worse out there, she fell through the fucking ice. Managed to get her out but she coughed up a helluva lot of water and now she’s all -” he looked behind him at your floppy hands and droopy eyelids, “she doesn’t look right, she isn’t talking, can’t stay awake.” Bucky rambled, his Brooklyn drawl appearing again through his worry. His words were getting mixed, he could feel them, heavy on his tongue, hypothermia? Something else? What had he been taught in basic training?

“Look, don’t get excited,” Sam said, pausing slightly, the howl of the snow storm still evident behind him. “But I need you to take off any wet layers she’s wearing, she could get hypothermia and her being unresponsive isn’t a good sign.” 

“Why would that get me excited?” Bucky said, indigent but propping the phone up so he could start unzipping your coat. 

On the video Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t see anything out of the truck windows, the snowstorm made everything static, but the video kept trying to focus anyway.

“Just do it, Buck, okay. There should be some spare clothes somewhere, if she needs them.” 

Bucky peeled back your sopping coat and set about removing your snow boots. Underneath you were wearing waterproof trousers, a thick thermal sweater and long sleeved standard issue t-shirt and leggings, also wet. He sat back, peeling the leggings from around your ankles. At least you had one dry shirt on but it was so small, just a strappy vest as your first layer and there were already goosebumps rising on the skin around your shoulders and collarbone. 

Bucky snapped his eyes away, cheeks flushed, and stood, searching for spares, coming up short. 

“There’s nothing here -”  he groused, standing his phone up against the empty fireplace while he searched. 

“Check the bathroom, they normally leave sweat shirts and things by the towels.” 

Bucky gave you one last look and left the room in search of something to keep you warm. 

Your eyes felt so heavy, your head full of lead and your arms and legs weighed down. Your throat burned and tasted awful, worse than the pack rations you’d eaten before you’d set off on the last leg of your walk to the cabin. 

The memory of the water washed over you and your arms flew out, grasping for the ratty sofa cushions.

You were safe. 

Everyone else must have made it too because you could hear Sam and Steve talking, saying something about Bucky. 

Blinking your eyes you were sure they were sat by the fire, maybe they’d light it soon, you were so cold. 

Bucky returned with a blanket and socks, sweat pants and towels and dropped them on the floor by the couch. It was one thing to find supplies, quite another to get you changed, he felt bad enough about taking your outer layers off. 

At some point during his search Sam and Steve must have dropped off the call, the phone now laying quiet on the hearth. 

He’d get you dressed and then worry about a fire.

The sweat pants were fine, they were loose and pulled up easily over your hips, the socks and towels warmed your feet slowly. But your shoulders and chest were still uncovered and he could see you starting to shiver. That was at least a good sign, your nerves were working and you were responding correctly to sensory input - but he couldn’t bear it.

Without thinking he pulled his henley off and sat you up, carefully placing it over your head and manoeuvring your arms until you were covered. 

You let out a deep sigh, smiling in your sleep. Bucky didn’t want to think about the way you seemed to snuggle into the collar, it was just body heat, that’s all, that’s all you needed. 

Bucky tucked you back in, being careful to tuck the soft edges of the shirt between your bare skin and the rough wool of the blanket. This was not the way he wanted to see or touch you like this for the first time. He sat with his back to the sofa, gun across his lap and trained his eyes on the door. 

Bucky’s eyes were open in half a second, body crouched, gun extended into the darkness until he noticed his phone lit up beside him, vibrating against the aching joints in his shoulders. 

“Hey, Buck, hows it going?.” Steve asked from the gloom of the truck’s cabin. Sam must have taken over the driving, Steve never used his phone behind the wheel. “We should be with you in the morning.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.” Bucky let his head flop back against the sofa and instantly regretted it when he felt the softness of your thighs behind him. 

Sam’s voice was an echo on the line,“tell me what’s going on?”

“I took her uniform off like you said and she was awake very briefly, just eyes open then closed, but she’s been asleep awhile.”

“Awake is good, right?” Steve asked and Sam hummed in agreement. 

“Hey man, you need to get some rest too, okay. No falling asleep by accident, get in the bed or under a blanket and really sleep,” Sam scolded, it rankled Bucky sometimes, how well Sam really knew him, but he was grateful for this new team as well. 

“I shouldn’t I -” the words ‘I don’t deserve to rest’ were so close to stumbling past his lips. Instead he closed his eyes and turned his head to the wood beamed roof. 

“Look punk, whatever stupid thing you two were arguing about, it’s not your fault she got hurt, okay?” Steve’s voice was sterner now, demanding attention. 

“It was a bet,” Bucky admitted, weakly. “I bet her I could get here first and when I did I’d get the bed and the blankets. She was rushing because of me, she took a stupid fucking risk because she thought she’d have nowhere to sleep.” Bucky bit his cheek, the tang of blood staining his tongue. 

“For gods sake, Buck, that’s not your fault, she made her own choices -” 

“She’d have made better ones if I wasn’t such an asshole, what would my Ma ? Making a bet like that, you know I’d never have let her go cold.”

In your sleep your hands inched forwards, searching for something. The tips of your fingers found his earlobe and then, with a hum, you tucked your hand between his cold, bare, back and the sofa. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, your ma would’ve tanned your hide from here to Coney Island. But I know, I know you would never have let her suffer, you were playing games and makin’ stupid bets because you respect her as your equal. She’d be just as mad if she though you were goin’ easy on her.” 

He had nothing to say, no way to defend himself or make it better that didn’t involve him punishing himself somehow, so he said nothing. 

“Just hang on until the morning, okay. I’ll send over some more information on hypothermia in case we lose contact. But you just have to get through to the morning and then we can take over.” 

“Shouldn’t we get her to the compound now?” Bucky didn’t try to hide the worry in his voice, you hadn’t fought him off, complained, made a sarcastic comment or done any of your usual ridiculous arguing when he’d helped you. It wasn’t right. 

“No, no, best thing is to let her sleep and warm up. She’s fine. You need to sleep though, properly, on a soft surface.”

“Floors aren’t soft surfaces!” Sam shouted. 

“Okay, but -” Bucky paused and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Just sleep, Buck.” If Bucky was worried, Steve was amused, unable to keep the smile from his voice as he said goodbye. 

You were still underwater, you were sure from the way all the voices in your head sounded muffled. But then you could smell Bucky’s shampoo, so maybe everything was okay after all.

“Hey, are you awake,” Bucky’s voice was so far away, like listening through a bubble, “if you’re awake you should eat something and then I can take your temperature again.” 

There was a movement, an earthquake, but the water didn’t move, there was no water anymore, just the cushion, the lap, the arm, the hand. You clung to the arm, but it didn’t yield under your fingers, it was solid and whirring and - 

“Hmmm, Bucky,” you whispered, nuzzling back into his hold. 

“No, come on, sit up, time to eat.” Why was the world moving, tilting? The voice was louder now, clearer. 

“Buh-” The words were gone again, the world was quiet again, blissful sleep with Bucky’s hand in yours. 

Sam’s face appeared on the phone screen, sleep in his eyes while Bucky gave him an update. He’d decided to stay awake, insisting he’d nap in the truck when they moved on in the morning. As soon as you’d started talking he’d called Sam and Steve to check on you. 

“She was slurring a bit. She wasn’t shivering but I think she’s warmer.”

“You think she’s warmer?,” Sam cut over Steve, looking pointedly at Bucky. “Feel her back and chest.”

“Her chest…” Bucky looked down at you, curled into his t-shirt, eyelids fluttering in your sleep. “She’s wearing clothes.” 

Bucky’s hand was still on your cheek and you turned into the touch, a small smile gracing your lips. 

“Bucky just put your hand on her collar,” Steve suggested.

“Awh, Buck, are you nervous around her, that’s so cute.” Sam teased and Steve scoffed at him. The line went quiet, but he could still make out some muffled arguing. 

He ignored them, sliding his left hand down to your collarbone, gently tucking his fingers under the collar of the t-shirt. His left hand was surprisingly sensitive and he could feel the prickle of your heat, you were definitely warmer than you had been. Your heartbeat steady beneath his palm, his thumb rubbed higher, feeling your pulse in your neck as well. 

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Steve sighed and Bucky snatched his hand away as if he’d been caught, “but if you can get her to have some soup that would be great -” 

“We have to do something else.” Bucky knew he sounded panicked, but he didn’t care. Hypothermia could be deadly and there was no way he was losing you. “She’s still asleep, she should be coming round.”

“There's not much more we can do,” Sam's voice was sleepy. “Sit with her, if she wakes up, get her to eat something and try to keep her awake. Steve and will get there as soon as we can. In the meantime, there may be one more thing you could try -” Sam’s eyes lit up and Bucky just knew he was in trouble somehow. 

Body heat, that’s what Sam had said.

“You need to get under a blanket with her properly, keep her warm.” Sam suggested.

“You mean cuddle.”

“Fine, cuddle, would that be the end of the world?” He’d rolled his eyes and Bucky had felt a sort of sick feeling inside. He’d love to cuddle you, actually, would love to feel your body close to him without the threat of you pulling a training knife or trying to flip him on his back again. But he just can’t.

He stared at you, replaying Sam’s words over and over. Bodyheat, it’s the only thing for it now the fire was roaring again and the huge blanket was folded over twice. Why weren’t you waking up? Why were you still so cold to the touch? 

He lay down, rearranging the blanket over you both and let his right arm fall over your waist, pulling you closer. 

The fire crackled, the snow fell in quiet drifts by the windows and for a moment he could pretend that this was all normal. Just you taking a nap on a winter evening. Would you nap in your clothes? Or would you change into your pyjamas early on in the day and stay like that. Would you fall asleep as easily in his apartment? Would you want to stay?

The snow had stopped again, banked up against the windows in what would have been a wonderful Christmas scene, if you weren’t stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Bucky’s tactical comms were blinking with a new message but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His head was clearer from having slept, but the feel of your hand sitting low on his hip, your body perfectly aligned with his and, crucially, your face so close, lips brushing his cheek, had his thoughts reeling again. 

You stirred, nuzzling closer and placing a sleepy kiss on his cheek. Bucky’s heart sank, who did you think he was? 

“Hmm, where are we?” Your eyes were closed still, but at least your hand was hot against his skin and you were talking, cogent. 

“You fell through the ice, I'm trying to get you warm. How do your toes and fingers feel?” He whispered. 

You stretched your hands out in front of you, wiggling your fingers at him, “they did hurt, ugh, they hurt so bad,” there was a sad whine in your voice that made Bucky want to right every wrong you’d ever endured. You just sounded so small, so vulnerable for a change. “But they don't hurt anymore.” Your eyes drifted closed again and Bucky bit his lip, it really was now or never. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on your face. 

“You cracked the ice?” 

“No, but you wouldn’t have gone over it if we hadn’t made that stupid bet.” 

“Oh -” and then you laughed. 

“Why are you laughing, this is really serious, you could’ve died.” His breath caught in his throat, you were laughing and moving and his chest was still bare and you were in his t-shirt, pushing yourself against him with every movement. 

“It’s not your fault though you idiot.” You smacked his chest playfully and he caught your hand, holding it tight. 

“Are you feelin’ okay now?” His eyes darted over your face, taking in your pupils - slightly too dilated, your skin felt flush now which was good, but you couldn’t look at him properly. “You’re not concussed, your pupils are -” his fingers lingered on your wrist, feeling your pulse quicken. 

You pulled away, “I’m fine, I just needed to sleep it off I guess. Where are we?”

You took in the cabin, the little bed in the corner, stripped of its blankets. There was a fire still in the grate and evidence of Bucky eating, judging by the little ration packets scattered next to the sofa. Your tactical gear was drying over the back of a chair and Bucky’s was arranged neatly by the door. 

“We made it to the safe house, you were really close, you would’ve won.” Bucky kept his hands to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way your eyes had looked when he’d held you, the light hadn't changed, you hadn’t moved your body, the only thing that had changed was his touch.

“Good, I knew I would, slow old man.” You laughed and it was such a relief to hear you happy, safe, Bucky closed his eyes again. “Where are Sam and Steve?”

Still driving, there was a snowstorm so god knows when they'll get here now.” 

“Better get some rations together then, I'm starving.” 

You wriggled off the couch and stood, eyeing up the kitchenette. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was trying to keep his eyes from straying to you. The sweat pants were far too big, sliding down over your hips, as we're the socks which pooled around your ankles. You looked so…cute.

“I don’t think you should be doing that, why don’t you rest?” He pushed the blankets and towels off the worn couch and tried to steer you away from the kitchenette. 

“Bucky I’m not dead, I was fine, I can make some-” you turned the can over in your hands, it sloshed, but there was nothing on the label, “mystery soup.” 

“No, you’re not dead, but -” 

“You wish I was, blah blah blah.” You laughed making your hand talk along with your words. 

“No, No -” Through your laugh, Bucky’s voice was laced with distress. “I never wanted you to get hurt.” 

He dodged around you, trying to get you to slow down and look at him but you were turning a pan over in your hands, deciding if it was too rusty for cooking with. 

“I know, you just wanted to win. No hard feelings, Buck. We’ll pick a winner next time.” 

You were determined to carry on like this then, with your arguing and betting and banter. Even though Bucky had sat with you through the night, certain you were going to die and it was entirely his fault that you’d die without knowing you were the one who kept him going. 

“I don’t want there to be a next time.” He said, plainly. 

“Oh, right, well, I guess we can just ask to be placed on different teams. If that’s what you want.” Suddenly the laughter had stopped and it was like you'd been dipped in ice again, the atmosphere was frosty and tense. 

“No, for god's sake, that's not what I mean. Fuck, I'm messing this up!” Bucky grumbled, making a grab for you.

“Hey!” You tried to dodge again, but he took your hands and pulled you close. 

“I don't want there to be a next time because I never want you to be in danger because of me. There won't be a next time because I was so scared I was going to lose you without telling you…”

“Telling me…what?”

“That you make all of this worthwhile.” He said, the tension leaving his body. “I couldn't imagine training without you, dinners and galas and missions. It wouldn't be the same, it wouldn't be worth it if you weren't there too.”

“Bucky-”

“You don't have to say anything, I just needed to tell you.” He dropped your hands and turned, “I'm going to go and call Sam and Steve, see if they're nearly here for evac.”

But you heard the water turn on and knew he wasn’t doing any such thing. He was having one of his angry, ‘wash away the argument’ showers that infuriated you so much when you had to share a hotel room or a safe house or when you followed him to his room to continue whatever ridiculous argument you’d both cooked up.

You continued stirring the soup slowly. Soup was really all you could find that didn’t make you feel sick just from reading the label, and you bent over the stove allowing the steam to warm your fingers and cheeks. 

The door to the bathroom slammed and you turned to see the light spilling from under the door. What did he mean ‘you make all of this worthwhile’. He was messing around, right? All the bets and fights, the arguments. He liked to get under your skin because, well, he clearly didn’t like you very much. 

You dropped the wooden spoon against the side of the pan, letting the too short handle slowly drown in the now spitting hot soup. 

But you liked him. Your heart had been pounding when he touched you and now your mind was racing at the thought of him even more than tolerating you. 

Before you could stop yourself you were crossing the cabin and hammering on the bathroom door. 

Bucky’s face was flush when he opened the door, pink staining his cheeks and blending with the faint lines on his face where he’d been cut during your mission.

He said nothing. 

“Tell me what you meant.” You demanded, trying to keep your eyes up. It was difficult, Bucky had stripped off already, you’d sparred enough times to know what his chest felt like, it seeing might actually tip you over the edge. 

“Don’t do this.” He grumbled, “just leave me alone.” 

He went to close the door but you pushed your flat palm against the wood, “Bucky you can’t go saying shit like that and then walk off and make it my fault.” 

“I can’t deal with it today, okay? I pulled your lifeless fucking body from underneath a sheet of ice. I thought you were dead, okay, dead.”

His jaw ticked as he closed his eyes and you could see how dark they were underneath, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“I carry you back here and - god - you were so cold, freezing, and I stripped all those clothes off thinking ‘Bucky she’s going to kill you’ and then you wanted to hold me while you slept. And you could’ve died, I thought you had died, and it’d be my fault because I made a fucking bet with you just so you’d talk to me and smile at me and I wanted you to win, I really did, because when you win you look at me and your eyes sparkle and I can pretend its because of me -” he took a breath, shocked that he’d allowed such a stark confession out. But he was so tired and - 

“It is you.” You whispered, “if my eyes sparkle -” your lips quirked up at the corner, “if they do it is because of you. I like when you make bets with me because then I know you’ll be thinking about me. I like when we fight because you touch me and I can pretend it's because you want to and -” 

Your thoughts were cut off by Bucky wrapping his arms around your back, his hands were wide on your shoulders when he pulled you up and into him, kissing you hard enough to bruise. 

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” his eyes were still full of emotion, his eyes piercing, it still felt warm to be under his gaze but there was something extra something more in your honesty that had you pressing your lips to his again. 

“I fucking love you too.” You confessed against his mouth and jumped into his arms.

Bucky stumbled out from the bathroom, balancing you on his hips so his hands could cradle your back, pressing you close. Between you he could feel how soft your breasts were, peaked nipples hard and your heartbeat fast.

Your chest heaved, pulling back for breath with a huge smile, a laugh in the corner of your mouth.

"We've been so stupid."

"Uh -huh," Bucky knelt, lowering you to pile of blankets that had been kicked off the sofa so recently, "stupid, yeah." He went back to kissing you, holding himself up with one hand and using the other to trace over every curve of your body.

"I've waited so long to have you like this," he murmered, lips brushing your own, "and you've been so sick, I can wait a while longer."

Bucky pulled away, but you tightened your grip around his neck and pulled him down with you.

"If you think you're leaving me now," you groaned, "you're very much mistaken."

Bucky's smile turned almost feral, his pupils wide and eyes roving your face for any sign of discomfort.

"I'll be very -"

"Bucky,"

"Hmm?" He was lost in touching you again,

"Just fuck me."

He seemed to lose all control, crushing a kiss against your lips and letting the hands that had been so gentle grip you even tighter, his finger pads digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, tipping your hips up so he could grind his hard cock against you.

"Is that an M249 in your -"

"I'm just very pleased to see you," he countered, smiling into your kisses.

You laughed, the fire of your sparing still there in the way he hiked your leg over his hip, and you remembered all the times he'd rolled you over on the mats just like this, your breath fanning over his cheek and his body so close to yours.

"Can't promise it's as big though."

You slid your hand into his tight tactical trousers and squeezed the still growing bulge beneath, "I dunno, Buck, pretty close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I'm exactly where I want to be."

His kisses slowed and he pulled back, brushing a hand down your cheek, "me too."

Sam was exhausted when he pulled the truck up to the safe house, Steve was dosing in the passenger seat after his stint at driving and Sam was looking forward to his own sleep before they made their way to the evac point. 

He shoved the door open, expecting to see the familiar sight of you bickering over cards but -

“Sam!” Bucky shouted, throwing a blanket over your naked body and accidentally exposing himself in the process. “Get out!” 

You laughed, clinging to Bucky’s arm in peels of laughter. 

“Steve!” Sam shouted as he retreated, “you owe me twenty dollars! And Bucky owes me an hour with his therapist” 

“He can have whatever he wants as long as I get to keep you.” Bucky smiled, kissing you on the cheek. 

“That’s so cheesy, Bucky, gross.” Your laughter turned into giggles. 

“You love it.” He kissed you again and your lips parted in anticipation. 

“Hmm, I guess I do…” You let him push you back into the blankets, kissing down your neck before- “ I bet you I can get dressed faster!”

[desperate-gay]

christmas request for leah williamson:

"Just because we’re stuck under mistletoe doesn’t mean I have to kiss you.”

“Scared you might enjoy it?"

A Christmas Tease

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

summary: your teammate has quite the reputation and she will do anything to catch your attention

a/n: just a quick blurb i thought id write due to a sleepless night

“There she is!” Katie shouts, arm extended with a beer in hand, announcing your late arrival at the party.

“Yes, here I am. My tires are horrible with the snow and everyone drives like there’s a whole blizzard outside.” You roll your eyes, removing your outdoor gear to throw on the coat rack and embrace the warmth of the house.

You greet everyone with a smile and catch up to all the conversations that have happened within the last 20 minutes you have missed. You’ve gotten extremely close with many of your teammates despite only playing for Arsenal for only a couple of months. Once your USWNT teammate, Emily Fox, was signed, you weren’t too long after.

You had already known a lot of your teammates from international games and previous clubs you had played for, so there weren't too many people to get used to.

Besides one very obnoxious player.

Leah Williamson.

She has a reputation for sleeping around and placing girls in her trophy case. The team jokes that she’s challenging herself to sleep with every girl in London, and, unfortunately, her new target is you.

“Were you too busy answering prayers, angel?” A thick british accent breaks you out of your trance, making you jump in surprise.

“More like digging myself up from hell.” You say, giving her a plastered grin before taking a sip of the champagne that rests in your hand.

“I’ll have you one day, you know.” Leah states confidently, earning herself a sharp glare from you in which she only returns with a cocky smirk.

Not even wanting to argue with the girl, you scoff and walk over to where Lia and Mariona sit and join them in conversation. You’d never admit this to the blonde, not wanting to make her ego swell bigger than it anyway is, you used to have the biggest crush on her before you transferred to Arsenal.

You always found the blonde extremely attractive, especially on the pitch, but when you finally met her and found out about her off-the-pitch affairs, your crush faded away.

“You still there, amiga?” Mariona asks softly, noticing your silence.

“Yes, of course. Sorry, just a bit distracted.” You smile apologetically, twisting the glass in your hand for distraction.

“No need to apologize, but if I may, does this have anything to do with a certain english blonde defender?” Lia smirks teasingly as you roll your eyes and shake your head rapidly.

“Absolutely not. You know my feelings about that, Lia.” The swiss girl allows the conversation to disappear although she doesn’t believe you one bit.

—

“Next question, what is everyone’s favorite christmas song?” Kim asks the team who all are huddled around in the living space, you coincidentally smushed on a loveseat with Leah.

Many shouts are thrown across the room from voices trying to top each other, debating on what christening song is the ultimate song, including your voice.

Noticing the girl next to you zoning out and not participating, you bump your shoulder into hers, asking, “What about you? What’s your favorite christmas song?”

“Rockin’ around the christmas tree.” Leah nods in confidence.

“Why that one?” You immediately regret asking when that familiar cocky grin stretches along the older girl’s face.

“Because I know I can rock your world when you finally let me.” She whispers, leaning closer to you so no one else can hear, and quickly snapping back when you push her in disgust, making the girl chuckle and take a sip of her drink.

Many hours pass by with more questions, movies, karaoke, and so on before people start to trickle out to head back to their destined homes. It was only you and a few people left, cleaning up the snacks that were on display and garbage littered in small areas.

Leaning against the wall of the archway, someone clearing their throat grabs your attention next to you. You quickly see the blonde locks and huff in annoyance before turning back to look at what you were.

She taps your shoulder and points above the two of you, causing you to scoff when you notice the holiday plant hanging down by a string. Leah’s white teeth shimmer at you before puckering her lips and making exaggerated kissy noises.

“Just because we are under a mistletoe does not mean I have to kiss you.” You declare, watching the older girl with squinted eyes.

“Afraid you may enjoy it, darling?” Leah questions, pulling herself off the wall and moving slightly closer to you with a wide grin plastered on her face.

A weird shock runs through your body from hearing her husky tone, but you shake it off as the thought of a cold shiver. You swiftly look around to make sure no one is around before closing the gap between you and Leah, grabbing her arms and placing them on your hips while yours wraps around her neck.

The blonde’s smile fades and instead is replaced with a huge face of shock.

“I know I’ll enjoy it. I have been dreaming of you railing me into the mattress over and over again, having your way with me on every surface of every room, and making my legs shake violently with every orgasm you give me.” You whisper, lips brushing against the girl’s ear as her hands grip your hips together with every word.

“Yeah?” Leah’s voice shakes.

“Oh yeah, but this won’t ever happen except in your daydreams.”

With that, you down the rest of the drink in your hand and strut off to help Kim with the rest of the cleanup, leaving the defender in complete bewilderment and arousal.

Merry christmas indeed.

[sadnymi]

Heather

[Theodore Nott x reader]

•Words:1.9k

Sitting on the stone bench outside the castle, you couldn’t feel your fingers anymore. The cold bit at your skin, sharp and unrelenting, as the snow fell steadily around you. Everyone else seemed to be inside, laughing with friends or warming themselves by the fires in their common rooms. But you didn’t have a group to belong to. Not really.

The silence was comforting and suffocating all at once. You hadn’t brought a jacket, thinking you wouldn’t stay outside long, but you regretted it now. Your teeth began to chatter softly as you hugged your knees, trying to keep what little warmth you had.

“Strange place to be sitting in this weather,” Theo’s voice broke through the stillness, smooth and curious.

You looked up, startled. There he was, Theo Nott, with his hands shoved into his pockets, his hair dusted with snowflakes. He tilted his head slightly as he regarded you, that same calm intensity in his eyes that always made your heart flutter.

You forced a small smile, trying not to seem as pathetic as you felt. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Theo smirked as he lowered himself onto the bench beside you, brushing snow off the seat first. “Nothing better to do? Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who doesn’t know how to enjoy snow.”

You chuckled softly. “I never said that.”

“Then go make a snow angel or start a snowball fight,” he suggested, his voice light with amusement. “Or, if you’re feeling particularly brave, go sledding down the hill by Hagrid’s hut. I hear Pansy tried it last year and nearly broke Draco’s neck.”

You shook your head, laughing a little. “I think I’ll pass.”

His smirk fading into something softer. “Why are you really out here, Y/N?”

Your breath caught, and you hesitated. You didn’t know how to tell him you just wanted to escape the overwhelming loneliness you felt inside. So you shrugged instead. “Just needed some air.”

he didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned back, glancing at the snow-covered grounds. “Well, it’s freezing out here. You could’ve at least brought a jacket.”

“I didn’t think I’d stay this long,” you admitted, rubbing your arms for warmth. You shivered visibly then, your whole body trembling.

He noticed immediately. “Merlin, you’re shaking like a bloody leaf,” he muttered, already unzipping his sweater.

Your eyes widened as he pulled it over his head, revealing the fitted white shirt underneath that clung to his chest and shoulders. You quickly looked away, your face burning despite the cold. “Theo, no. You’ll —”

“Nuh-uh,” he cut you off, holding the sweater out to you. “I’m fine. Put it on, Y/N. You’re going to turn into an icicle.”

You hesitated, shaking your head. “No, really. I’ll be fine. You don’t have to—”

“For Salazar’s sake, just take it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not arguing with you about this. Put it on.”

Reluctantly, you took the sweater from his hands, your fingers brushing his briefly. It was still warm, and it smelled like him—You slipped it over your head, the fabric enveloping you like a hug.

“See? That’s better,” he said, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips as he leaned back again, his arm casually draped over the back of the bench. “You look ridiculous in my clothes, though.”

Tugging the sleeves down over your hands you side eyed him. “Thanks. Really appreciate that.”

He grinned. “Don’t mention it, but seriously, Y/N, you shouldn’t sit out here alone like this.”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I like the quiet.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and you wondered if you’d said too much. But then he leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a quieter, more sincere tone. “Next time, tell me. I’ll sit with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you glanced at him, surprised. “You would?”

He smirked, but there was a warmth behind it. “What, you think I’d let you freeze out here by yourself? I’ve got a reputation to maintain. Can’t have people thinking I let my… friends suffer.”

Friends. The word stung a little, but you pushed the feeling aside, nodding. “Thanks, Theo.”

“Don’t mention it,” Theo said again, his smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “But if you do end up sledding by Hagrid’s hut, let me know. I’d pay good money to see that.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, the warmth of his sweater and his presence dulling the bitter chill in the air. But before you could say anything more, movement caught your eye.

Heather Whitmore. She was walking toward the courtyard with her usual group of friends.

Heather wasn’t just beautiful—she was radiant. With her golden hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders and her perfectly pressed robes, she looked as if she had stepped out of a fairy tale. Everyone adored her. Professors sang her praises, students gravitated toward her, and even the portraits seemed to lean closer when she passed. She was kind in a way that didn’t feel forced, effortlessly graceful, and charming without trying.

As she approached, her soft laughter carried on the winter air, and you didn’t need to look at Theo to know his attention had shifted. You could feel it.

But you looked anyway.

His eyes followed her, his smirk fading into something softer. His gaze lingered on her face, taking in the way she smiled, the way she carried herself as if she floated instead of walked.

You knew that look. You knew it because it was the same way you looked at him. Like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he was everything.

And now you were watching him look at Heather that way.

Your chest tightened, the air freezing in your lungs. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. The ache was too raw, too consuming.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” you heard yourself say before you could stop.

His nod was almost imperceptible, but it was there. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight you weren’t used to hearing.

The lump in your throat grew harder to swallow. “She seems… nice,” you said, your voice cracking just enough to betray you.

Theo glanced at you briefly, but his eyes were already drawn back to Heather. “She is.”

“She’s got a lot of friends,” you added, trying to sound casual, like you were making an observation instead of feeling your heart splintering into pieces.

“She’s easy to get along with,” Theo replied simply, his tone nonchalant, though his gaze was anything but.

“Everyone loves her,” you said softly, barely above a whisper.

“Hard not to,” Theo muttered, his lips twitching into a small smile.

The final blow came when Heather glanced in Theo’s direction and smiled, her cheeks rosy from the cold. You saw it—the way her eyes lit up when they met his. And he smiled back, faint but unmistakable.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of it all—your loneliness, the unspoken feelings you’d harbored for so long, the way he looked at her the way you’d always dreamed he’d look at you—it was suffocating.

“I should go inside,” you said suddenly, standing up.

Theo frowned, pulling his eyes away from Heather to look at you. “What? Why? You—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, forcing a smile as you reached for the hem of his sweater to pull it off. “Here—”

His hand shot out, gently grabbing yours to stop you. “No, no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”

The casual smile he gave you was enough to make your heart flutter and shatter at the same time. You hesitated, swallowing hard before whispering, “Thanks, Theo.”

You turned before he could see the tears threatening to spill and started walking away, your steps unsteady.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Heather excusing herself from her friends, her gaze set firmly on Theo. Her radiant smile didn’t falter as she crossed the courtyard, her steps confident and deliberate.

You didn’t stay to watch the rest. You couldn’t.

Each step back toward the castle felt heavier than the last, the warmth of Theo’s sweater doing little to soothe the cold sinking into your chest.

A week later, the air at Hogwarts still carried the sharp chill of winter. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you made your way across the courtyard, keeping to yourself as you always did. You didn’t mind being alone, not really—but lately, the silence felt heavier, harder to bear.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called, pulling your attention.

You turned to see Enzo, his bright grin cutting through the cold, waving you over. He stood with the usual group—Mattheo, Blaise, Pansy, Draco, and Theo. But your gaze faltered when you saw Theo. His arm was draped casually around Heather’s shoulders, her blonde hair shining in the pale sunlight. She leaned into him, her perfect smile turning up as she laughed at something Blaise said.

Steeling yourself, you walked over, forcing a smile as you greeted them. “Hi, guys.”

Enzo immediately dropped his arm over your shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “There’s my savior,” he said dramatically.

You laughed lightly, though your pulse quickened at the sudden attention. “Savior?”

“You helped me not fail that Potions exam,” Enzo reminded you, grinning.

Heather’s soft voice chimed in, her tone light but pointed. “That’s cheating.”

Enzo smirked, tilting his head dramatically. “Cheating? Nah. I call it teamwork. Besides,” he added, nudging you with his elbow, “Y/N’s a good friend. The best, actually.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal. You knew most of the answers already.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t downplay it,” Enzo said, squeezing your shoulder. “You saved my life, and I owe you. Big time. Dinner, drinks, whatever you want—it’s on me.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Enzo,”

“Alright, but if you change your mind, just say the word.”

Draco smirked, nudging Blaise. “Careful, Enzo. I think she might just take you up on that.”

“Wouldn’t mind if she did,” Enzo shot back, winking at you.

You smiled, trying to keep the moment light, though the weight in your chest grew heavier.

Heather had gone quiet. Her arms crossed against the cold as she glanced up at Theo.

“It’s freezing,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around herself.

Theo was quick to respond, shrugging off his sweater and draping it over her shoulders. “Here,” he said, his voice gentle in a way that made your stomach twist.

Heather smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed. “Thanks, baby.”

And then he kissed her, a soft, casual press of his lips to her temple, but it felt like a dagger straight to your chest.

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to keep your composure. “I—um—I have to go,” you said abruptly, stepping back.

Enzo’s hand slid off your shoulder as he turned to you, frowning. “What? Already?”

You nodded, avoiding Theo’s gaze entirely. “Yeah, I just remembered I have something important to do. I’ll see you guys later.”

“You sure?” Enzo asked.

You forced a smile, nodding again. “Positive.”

Before anyone could say more, you turned and walked away, your boots crunching through the snow as you headed back toward the castle. You didn’t dare look back, but the image of Theo and Heather lingered in your mind like a brand.

The cold bit at your cheeks, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t the cold that made your chest ache.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Snow Angel

Daemon's Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Version

Daemon Targaryen x Snow!Reader | 700< | cw: fem!reader, reader is Lord Rickon Stark's bastard daughter, canon divergence, angst, violence, blood, war, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved

Though you were his wife by law, you were not by heart.

It did not hurt you, at least not anymore. You understood your place. You understood your duty; your duty was to your house, to your family, to him.

This was how you found yourself in the crosshairs of peril.

Daemon had been lost for days on end. He'd not given word ever since his proclamation to seize Harrenhal for the Queen— for his niece, his beloved niece. You knew why he was so eager to act. He so badly wanted to win Rhaenyra's favor.

They had not seen eye to eye lately, and one could say it was your fault. You were getting in the middle of their relationship, you, his wife. It felt as though there was not a soul in Westeros who did not know of their relations, and yet even in that blatant shame, not once did you ever bring it up to your husband.

Not once.

Why?

Because he saved you when you were wed. You had been promised to an old lord known to be a wife beater. You were told that it was the best match you would ever get, but then you caught the interest of the prince of Dragonstone, even if for a fleeting moment.

You thought that what you had was akin to desire, if not love, but it seems he only married you to spite someone that truly stoked such a thing within him. And now, you were sent to the North to remind your half brother of House Stark's pledge to that person, to Queen Rhaenyra. Your kin did not take kindly to that. But it was not Cregan that found offence in your appearance, but his men, some five of them.

Daemon dreams about this in Harrenhal. He dreams of five direwolves pulling you apart, limb from limb. He wakes up in a cold sweat because of it. When he rouses with word that a raven came telling of the conditions of his wife, he did not need to read its contents to be inspired to saddle Caraxes.

He makes his dragon land inside Winterfell and demands, "WHERE IS MY WIFE?!"

Cregan runs and meets him once he dismounted, leading him to your room.

His expression falls when he sees you. You were badly cut and beaten. You looked like you were ready to greet the Stranger. He grabs Cregan by his furs and hisses, "where are the men that did this?"

"I've sent them to the Wall," Stark raises a hand, indicating he did not want to fight.

"The Wall?" he shoves him away, "their heads should be on a sp-"

"They are my men. I will do with them as-"

"They outnumbered and ambushed my wife! You think they deserve the honor of keeping their heads?!"

Daemon was about to draw Dark Sister, until he heard a soft voice call his name. He turns to you, catching the way you stirred, and immediately comes to your side.

You weakly reach out a hand and he takes it. He is warm, a complete opposite to you. You feel lethargic but you manage to pull your lips into a semblance of a smile. You whisper, "you've come."

Your husband stares at you. He clutches your hand in both of his.

You rub his skin with your thumb.

He shakes his head, "I will exact your injuries of your attackers. They will regret the day they left their mothers' cunts."

You no longer have the energy to respond. You weakly smile at him before closing your eyes.

He stays with you until you fall asleep. He stay with you until he is told your eyes would no longer open again. He had to be subdued before he killed the maester that announced the news.

Cregan could do little to stop the prince and Caraxes from flying off to the Wall. He all but threatened to burn the whole of it down if your attackers did not come forth. And when they do, Daemon tells them to fight him or be fed to his dragon.

And so the fools attacked him, and were slain, and were fed to his dragon anyway. He flies back to Harrenhal after, and you haunt him in his dreams.

[lurochar]

A Snow Day in Hell

Heeey, anyone else remember that ‘special feeling’ meme from years ago? No? Me either

–----------------------------------------------

Hell had frozen over.

Literally.

It was an extraordinarily and incredibly rare occurrence, according to Charlie, who, a literal native demon born of Hell, had only seen it snow once before in her lifetime.

It generally occurred once every few hundred years, perhaps add or minus a century here or there, Lucifer could not be bothered to keep track when Charlie had asked him how often it actually happened since the snow only stuck around for a day at the very most and was just a minor inconvenience.

You were honestly excited to witness such a unique experience and were dismayed to find that Alastor could care less about such a thing.

And so, you had to pester him and even promised him a favour (his proceeding and chilling smile sent immediate shivers down your spine) just to take a stroll with you around town (and would probably regret when he came to collect that favour).

“Of course, Darling! I have no important tasks to complete today. Why, I would be ever so honoured to escort you to town on such a… lovely day.”

You gave Alastor a skeptical look when he glanced outside with an expression that screamed the opposite of what he was saying.

He clearly hated snow.

“But, seeing my partner beg me in such a pitiful manner – well, how can I possibly say no to that?”

Maybe you should have just asked Charlie? She seemed just as excited as you to see the snowfall.

It took quite a bit of self control for Alastor to not let out a dark chuckle at your varying expressions. You may be his companion, but he was still a sadist through and through. 

Maybe it was a bit soft when it came to you though. Just a little bit.

Besides, as irritating and cold as it was, a little snow, that would literally only last for a day, would never hurt anyone, right?

~00~

“It’ll be on any minute now!”

You covered your face with a pillow in pure embarrassment, unable to look at the screen of the TV as Charlie bounced in excitement. 

How did she find out? 

Ah damn, she already gathered the others to watch.

“W-why are you here?” You barely lifted your face enough to eye Alastor, seeing him sitting smugly in his usual chair. “It was you, wasn’t it?! You told Charlie, didn’t you!?”

“Well, of course I did!” Alastor’s grin was utterly demonic and he was obviously taking pleasure in your mortification. “Normally, I am completely against these awful picture box shows and was utterly baffled when you agreed to a… television interview, Darling, with me when you are completely aware of my distaste.”

“Uh, wait,” Angel Dust raised his arm, “you’re on TV, Smiles? How did they capture you on camera? How’d you not, ya know, blow up the whole network with that whole staticky thing you do? Why is Vox even letting this air?”

Everyone glanced over to Alastor, but he answered nothing.

You had no idea either.

“Oh, it’s on!” Charlie pointed with a wide grin and you slumped over, ready to just pack your bags and leave to save yourself the embarrassment.

On the TV, the scene was that of you and a tall figure that was distorted, blurry, and pixelated, yet was clearly Alastor from shape and colour alone. Honestly, you were surprised he was showing up even this much and not blowing out the camera like Angel Dust had pointed out.

It was a simple question, you were only stopped by the news reporter to ask what you thought of the unprecedented snowfall.

You had just been caught up in the moment, the idea of experiencing the whole once-in-a-lifetime thing with your partner.

So you had replied with something straight out of a Christmas romcom movie or something equally as cheesy. You really had no idea where it came from. Maybe the fact that Alastor had summoned an umbrella and was holding it over both of your heads?

It was mainly so he wouldn’t get snow in his ears, you would find out later.

“Isn’t this just amazing? Snow that falls only every few hundred years? It’s stunning, isn’t it?” Your face was beginning to turn red as you continued on without waiting for another question from the reporter. “Being in the snow with my lover like this immerses me in a special feeling. I love it.”

Oh fuck.

How the fuck could you say that with a straight face!?

It was clear that Alastor felt the shame for you, even through his blurry distorted figure, you could see his ears flatten against his head and his head completely turn away from the reporter like he wasn’t there to hear your cringey words.

“Oh my Satan, are you fucking serious?” The news reporter sneered at you. “I just asked you about some fucking frozen water. Not your version of a romantic date you’ll have in your shitty wet dreams.”

You blinked and the distorted Alastor slowly turned his head back towards the reporter.

“This is fucking Hell, not some Barbieland bulls–”

You couldn’t help it and a few of your more demonic features were showing before you could stop them and you grabbed the umbrella Alastor was still holding. “You asked me a question about snow and I answered and then you make fun of me for that!? So what if I want a romantic outing with my lover!?” You shoved the umbrella’s pole into the gut of the reporter and growl into the camera, hearing the cameraman cry out before it cuts out and the interview is over.

.

.

.

There was complete silence.

“W-well, maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.” You scratch your cheek, “J-just forget what I sa–”

“Oh, that was so romantic!” Charlie’s eyes were wide and sparkly, “I never knew snow could make you feel that way.” She gasped loudly, looking at Vaggie. “There’s still time! Come on, Vaggie! We need to go out in the snow to ‘immerse ourselves’ in that special feeling!”

Vaggie just throws you a grumpy look before sighing and following after Charlie.

Angel Dust is laughing his ass off, “Special feeling? Seriously, Dollface? Did that cold freeze your brain cells or somethin’? Well, at least ya showed that dick reporter who’s boss. Smiles, over there, did nothin’.”

“I don’t need him to do everything for me.” You muttered, glancing over at Husk and, for once, glad to see he’s too drunk to care and Niffty had lost interest as soon as she saw a cockroach. 

You looked over to Alastor.

“Are you satisfied?” You asked with a sigh, “Watching me embarrass myself and then lose control on the news that’s aired all around Hell?”

Alastor’s grin widened. “Very much so, Darling. Not only have you provided me with great entertainment, but now you have also given me an excuse to go after the one who aired your follies. I do believe I should give my ‘old pal’ a visit quite soon.”

Yeah.

You really should have just asked Charlie earlier.

[aanoia]

OMG I HAVE ANOTHER ONE I HAVE ANOTHER ONE

What about putting lights on the house with single dad James that’s also next door neighbor. So basically Harry sees their nice next door neighbor struggling to put up the outside decorations and he forces his dad to help. And Que cute decorating time and end with hot cocoa and baking cookies with Harry!

I LOVED this idea, thank you

𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - a hallmark christmas movie

James Potter x reader day eight of christmas advent calendar words; 1,600+ warnings; broken glass i made harry really clumsy and lily evil so enjoy

Y/n sighed, hands on her hips, as she stared at the bucket of tangled Christmas lights. She thought hard on how she could possibly do this, the years before she’s always had a boyfriend or her dad do it. But this year, not only was she single but her dad was visiting her sister in America this Christmas.

‘If only magic was real,’ She thought while shaking her head and beginning to work on the Christmas lights. 

Y/n struggled to pull out a single strand, so she decided to just pour them all out instead. She sat on her snowy lawn, thankful she had decided to wear her snow gear before she came out. Y/n sat there, pulling roughly on the lights and fighting off frustrated tears.

After ten minutes of trying she threw the lights onto the snow in annoyance and flopped onto her back, spreading out her arms and legs as if she was making a snow angel. She glared at the snow falling from the sky.

From inside the next door house, a little boy with charcoal hair watched the woman intently from the window. His breath fogged up the window, so every breath he exhaled he wiped his sleeve against the cold glass.

“Harry, it’s rude to stare.” The boy's dad, James, said as he hugged his son from behind and pulled him up. Harry laughed as James tickled his stomach.

“I think she needs help, dada.” Harry mentioned - his lisp making his “s” sound like a “th” - and James cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, what makes you think that?” He asked his son.

“Look, she can’t get her Christmas lights to go apart.” He explained and James peered out the window to see his neighbors figure in the snow, struggling to untangle lights.

James ruffled his son's hair and set him back down, “She’ll figure it out, bud, don’t worry.”

Y/n sighed in relief as the Christmas lights were finally untangled. She stood up, her legs cracking loudly, and picked up the connected strands. She connected the end to a long extension cord. Y/n waddled over to the ladder and prayed her driveway didn’t have any ice she couldn’t see as she climbed up cautiously. 

A gust of wind blew past and she gripped onto the sides roughly, closing her eyes and sending a prayer to the universe. She took another step up, and another, until she could finally reach the hooks on the edge of her house. Y/n looped the strand around the hook and brought it over to the next.

She repeated this multiple times until she got to the end. Y/n glanced at her neighbors window and smiled at the sight of the small boy looking at her from inside. He gave her a wide smile, showing his missing two front teeth. She waved at him, instantly regretting her decision.

A large gust of wind blew by and her lights flickered and zapped, causing her to startle and slip from the ladder. A loud crack filled the air and immediately she was in a warm pair of strong arms. Y/n didn’t care who it was, she just held on tightly to her savior as she tried to calm her heart.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice asked as he set her down and Y/n finally looked up.

‘What in the Hallmark Christmas movie is this?’ She wondered as she stared in the framed eyes of her hot neighbor. His front door closed loudly as his little boy ran over worriedly.

“Are you okay, Miss Y/n?” Harry asked, grabbing onto her hand with both his small ones. His snowcoat was on backwards and his scarf was in a tangle around his head, but at least he tried.

Y/n smiled and leaned down to the boy, “Oh, yes, I’m perfectly fine, Harry, thank you.” Harry took a step and wrapped his arms around the woman.

“Up, please.” He said quietly and Y/n laughed as she picked him up. James watched the interaction with awe in his eyes. He’s never seen a woman like that with Harry, not since Lily left the two for America. 

“Thank you, James. I really appreciate it.” Y/n said and James smiled.

“Of course, anytime. Let me finish the job for you though.” He offered and Y/n nodded, holding tightly onto the little boy. 

“Be careful.” Y/n warned as James climbed up the ladder. He laughed and put the strand on the last hook before sliding down the ladder.

“Easy peasy.” He boasted and Y/n rolled her eyes and set Harry down. “We better get back to our house.”

“No!” Harry complained.

Y/n held out a hand, stopping the man from dragging his kid back to their house, “Do you want to come in? I have a tree I still need to decorate and some cookies practically begging to be baked.” James was silent as he contemplated. “I have hot cocoa! With the little chunks of candy cane in it.”

James immediately nodded, “I’m sold.”

“Okay, crack the eggs carefully, Harry. We don’t want any of the shells getting into the batter, alright?”

Harry nodded, “Okay.” He smashed the egg against the bowl and cracked it perfectly and he did it again with the second egg. When the third egg came around, he hit against the bowl with just a little too much force and the insides of the egg out, half going onto the table and the other half in the bowl, egg shells going along with it.

The room was silent for a moment before Y/n began laughing, the two boys quickly joining in. Y/n shook her head in amusement as she grabbed a spoon and handed it to Harry, instructing him to fish out the egg shells as she grabbed a napkin and quickly cleaned the egg on the table.

“Harry, don’t eat the raw egg.” James said with a smile and Harry stuck his tongue out at his dad. James returned the gesture as Y/n measured a cup of flour. She handed it to Harry who dumped the flour onto his head instead of in the bowl.

“What?” Y/n asked as James stood in shock as bits of flour fell from his sons head.

“What was the point of that?” James asked and Harry laughed, the adults joining in with him to make the kitchen full of laughter once again.

“Oh, you’re such a dork.” Y/n teased. “Tell you what, the bathroom is just down the hall, I’ll finish the batter while you go let your dad clean you up, yeah?” Harry nodded and jumped off the stool, causing more flour to cover the ground in white.

“I’m sorry.” James said as he followed after his kid.

Y/n smiled, “You can use my shampoo.”

“Okay, Harry, you have to be very careful with this one. It’s very fragile.” Y/n said as she handed Harry a glass ornament. Harry nodded and held the ornament by the string.

Unavoidably, Harry tripped over a box and in an attempt to steady himself the ornament dropped to the floor and shattered into pieces. Harry immediately began crying and worry filled Y/n’s body, afraid he had been cut by the glass. She swept him off the floor and checked his bare feet to see nothing but blank skin. She looked at his hands to see them in the same condition.

“Oh, Harry, what’s wrong? Did you get hurt?” She asked as James rushed to get the broom from the kitchen. 

“I broke your tree decoration!” He said, which only made him wail louder. Y/n sat on her sofa and cradled the boy in her arms.

“Oh, love, it’s okay. It’s just an ornament. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She said quietly and James froze at the sight, broom in hand.

His heart swelled as he only fell deeper in love with his neighbor. He had always thought she was beautiful, but seeing how she interacted with Harry - both today and many previous interactions - made him feel more than just attraction. He was curious and felt a longing for her. He didn’t want her to only take up the hole Lily left in his heart, he wanted her to take his whole heart, and Harry’s too. 

Once Harry stopped crying, he quickly fell asleep, exhausted from the day and its endeavors.

“We had a really good time.” James said as the two adults walked to the front door.

“Yeah, I did too. I’ll make sure to bring over some cookies for you two.” Y/n responded with a smile, leaning against the doorframe as James took a step into the dark night. 

He turned around, “Y/n…” He hesitated.

“Yes?”

James glanced up and smiled, “There’s a mistletoe.” He said quietly and Y/n’s eyes flitted up as well. She furrowed her brows at the mistletoe, she had definitely not put that there. She didn’t even own one.

Her eyes met James again, “So it seems.”

James leaned in, and when Y/n didn’t protest he went farther. Y/n’s hand found James’ cheek and she gently connected their lips. The kiss was soft, and warm, despite the cold air nipping at their cheeks. Y/n laughed softly as they pulled apart.

“What’s so funny?” James asked with a grin.

“You’re cute.” She whispered and he was thankful the cold reddened his cheeks before she could.

“Good night.” He responded.

“Good night, James.” Y/n said and closed the door, leaning against it once he left. She slid down and sat with a giddy smile. “Definitely a Hallmark Christmas movie.”

my masterlist

If you'd like to be added to my main or christmas taglist comment or DM me!

christmas taglist; @loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins @poetrypirate @ashisabitgay @kodiskisses @whitemanswh0r3 @ultraoreoqueen @miss-mercuryy @peanutbutterinacup @r-scneptune @pheonixfucu @slay345-7 @luannemaru @jluvsjpotts @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @maraudersgirlie @thescarletredwitch @irjdujsksjahhbs @irjdujsksjahhbs @1-800-ididurmum @jennasco @myradiaz @chellyrps @lixiefelicis @ittybittyhogan @lollloki @dreamingofmarauders @everybodyhatesari @agy-mari @wayytoocooll @notaboutlovebyfiona @harrington-potter @little-bubba @mblacksworld @optirizzprime @whoreforlupin @0-cherries-0 @itsjustpoppy-blog @jdoshalablab-blog @mybelovedneilperry @gublers-gf @bellathethirstybitch @poetrynerdsunite @talesof-old

[iateyourparents]

snow angels | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x fem!reader

summary: you love winter but you hate getting sick. but when it happens you have colby to take care of you.

warnings: bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language)

an: it’s short but i love snow and colby so i decided to make this because it snowed so much yesterday in my city <33

pictures are from pinterest:)

„Baby you will get cold.” Colby warned looking at you with a little smirk when you were laying on the ground doing snow angels with Katrina.

It was winter, your favorite season and because Los Angeles wasn’t known for snowy and cold weather, Sam and Colby decided to surprise you and Katrina with a little travel to Norway. It was heaven for you, so much snow and cold weather.

„I won’t love.” you rolled your eyes „Come here and make your angel!”

He rolled his eyes but started walking to you with Sam and they both laid down and started copying your and Kat’s movements.

„Come on love, let’s go inside baby.” Colby took your hand some time later „You will really catch a cold if we stay outside for any longer.”

„No.” you whined letting go of his hand „Let’s buid a snowman!”

„You will regret it.” Colby warned with a laugh but also got to work on your snowman.

And truth to be told, you should listen to Colby when he was urging you inside but you only realized it couple of hours later when you were laying in bed coughing and sneezing.

„I told you so babe.” Colby sighed looking at termometer in his hand “You have high fever.” he looked at you with worry and you took his hand.

“I’ll be alright. It’s only a cold. Plus I have the best nurse on the world to help me get better.” you smiled at him and he only laughed kissing your nose.

“You look like a rudolf with this red nose.” he kissed it again “I will go make a soup, okay?”

“Don’t leave me here all alone.” you pouted.

“You should have listened to me and you wouldn’t be in this situation.” he smirked and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re no fun.” you whined but let’s be honest, he was right, but you would rather spend three days sick in bed than admit he was right.

“Sure love.” he kissed your head and walked out of your room.

You laid there for a few minutes but you quickly got bored and your phone wasn’t any help, so you got up from the bed and ignoring your body’s shivering, you started walking to the kitchen where from you could hear Colby singing.

You quietly stood behind him and hugged his back placing your cheek on his shoulder blade.

He jumped a little but then sighed “I told you to stay in bed.”

“I was bored.” you pouted slightly “I missed you.”

He laughed quietly but continued making a soup.

“You didn’t miss me?” you faked a gasp and stopped hugging him. You immediately missed a warm his back was providing you but you took a few steps back acting as if he did something cruel “How could you?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t miss you.” he defended himself.

“Your silence did!” you accused “Alright then, go back to your no missing me and I will go hug Kat and Sam.”

You walked out of the kitchen hearing Colby’s laugh and him shouting your name and I love you behind you but you ignored it and went to the living room where Sam and Kat were already looking in your direction with smirks.

“Problems in paradise?” Sam joked and you pouted.

“He doesn’t love me anymore!” you accused loudly to make sure Colby could hear you in the kitchen.

“I didn’t say that! I love you!” you all could hear Colby screaming and that made Kat and Sam laugh and you rolled your eyes.

“Do you wanna hug?” Kat looked at you and you quickly nodded, sitting on her side and snuggling into her body while Sam covered you both with a fluffy blanket.

Some time later Colby came into the room with a steaming bowl and also steaming cup in the shape of gingerbread man.

“I made the soup and I also made you a cocoa as a sorry for making you think I didn’t miss you while I was in the kitchen and you in the bedroom. It was wrong.” he smiled at you and you laughed.

“Add kinder surprise and I will forgive you.” you smirked at him and he smiled at you.

“They are waiting in the kitchen.”

“I love you.” you kissed his cheek when he was sitting things on the coffee table in front of you.

“I love you too baby.” he kissed your forehead “Now eat.”

[kazutora-kurokawa]

TokRev Christmas HCs

♡ SFW, fluffy, final timeline au, gn reader (mostly about the characters and less about reader lol) ♡

note: A day late but Merry Christmas (and whatever other holidays y'all celebrate 💕) hope everyone had a good time yesterday and it wasn't too stressful, now let's jump into a lot of headcanons lol

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

🎁 Mikey goes outside as soon as it starts snowing, he could spot a little snowflake out the corner of his eyes and he's immediately calling everyone outside

🎁 Takemichi used to go outside without a jacket all the time and always regretted not listening to his mom when she told him to put one on

🎁 If Pah is standing under a mistletoe he won't even notice, Peh has to explain (and scream) what the mistletoe means

🎁 Kazutora and Hanma carry around mistletoe and hold it over your head to get you to kiss them

🎁 Baji and Chifuyu dress up Peke J in a little elf costume and end up with multiple cat scratches (worth it tho)

🎁 Peke J also loves messing with the decorations on the tree, twice as annoying as any toy with a bell in it

🎁 Shinichiro always decorates the Christmas tree in the Sano household (with Izana and Emma's help ofc) and one year, Mikey was half asleep and walked into it, knocking the entire tree over and putting a hole in the wall

🎁 Mikey can never reach the Christmas decorations, so he throws his sandal at the box and knocks it off the shelf (and it falls on him lmao)

🎁 Koko and Inui (and Akane) always spend Christmas with Taiju, Hakkai, and Yuzuha, even when they tell Taiju they have other plans (loyalty to the boss fr)

🎁 Mitsuya makes Taiju a shark plushie and he almost cries

🎁 Mitsuya makes scarves, hats, and gloves for a lot of Toman members (even when he knows they probably won't wear them)

🎁 Mitsuya also makes stuff for his sisters and mom because he's just an absolute sweetheart

🎁 Izana and Kakucho still make snow forts like they did when they were younger, except now they do it with the rest of Tenjiku and the kids they take care of

🎁 Takemichi and Hina have accidentally gotten each other the same thing at least three times and they pretend that they planned to match

🎁 The Toman captains and vcs do a secret Santa gift exchange and Nahoya and Baji just steal stuff from the person they have to get a gift for and give it back disguised as an actual present

🎁 Nahoya and Souya bake cookies for the Toman captains and vcs and put them in cute little gift bags

🎁 Takeomi doesn't really like Christmas (Grinch ass mf) but he tries to make it fun for Senju and Haru

🎁 Wakasa loves Christmas because he always gets gifted fancy candy and chocolates

🎁 Benkai puts Waka on his shoulders so he can put a star on top of the tree

🎁 December is Akkun, Chifuyu, and Makoto's birthday month, so they all get double presents

🎁 Kisaki buys Hanma a new motorcycle and Hanma never lets him live it down

"Aww, you do love me Kisaki ♡"

"Shut up you freak." - a flustered Kisaki

🎁 Everyone goes to Takemichi's for Christmas and damn near wreck his house (Michi just can't get a break can he?)

🎁 One Christmas, Kazutora got a letter from his father and proceeded to burn it (as he should), then him and Baji tracked him down and busted his car windows out

🎁 Toman always takes a bunch of pictures during Christmas and Emma prints them out and puts them in little photo books to gift to them

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

[misswynters]

Snow Angels

short drabble

featuring. ricky shen x gn!reader

wc. 520

Synopsis: Ricky is waiting for you outside while it’s snowing outside. He looks so adorable as the snow falls on his face that you couldn’t resist even though it’s cold outside.

The snow was falling steadily, blanketing everything in a soft, serene white. You stood by the window, watching the flakes drift lazily from the sky, and spotted Ricky waiting just outside your front gate. His figure was bundled in a dark coat, and his breath escaped in faint clouds as he blew into his hands to keep warm.

Even from the distance, he looked adorable. Snowflakes dusted his hair, catching on his lashes, making his already bright features seem ethereal in the wintry glow of the streetlamp. He tilted his head back, letting the snow fall on his face, a small smile curving his lips as he basked in the quiet magic of the moment. You couldn’t help yourself.

Grabbing your thickest coat and wrapping your scarf snugly around your neck, you pulled on gloves and hurried outside. The cold hit you immediately, biting at your cheeks and nose, but the sight of Ricky waiting, so patient and beautiful in the snow, made you forget the chill “Ricky!” you called, your voice muffled by the layers around your face.

He turned toward you, his eyes lighting up as a wide grin spread across his lips. “You actually came out!” he said, jogging toward you, his steps crunching in the snow.

“I couldn’t resist,” you replied, pulling your scarf down just enough for your voice to carry. “But why are you out here freezing? You look like you’ve been standing in the cold forever.”

“Worth it,” he said simply, his grin turning a little smug. “It’s not every day I get to stand outside waiting for the most amazing person in the world.”

Your cheeks flushed, and it wasn’t from the cold. “You’re such a flirt,” you muttered, tugging your scarf higher to hide your growing smile.

Ricky laughed, his voice warm and rich against the stillness of the snowy evening. He stepped closer, tugging playfully at the end of your scarf. “Come on, it’s beautiful out here! The snow is perfect—it’s like we’re in a winter wonderland.”

You looked around, taking in the stillness of the world around you. The trees were heavy with snow, their branches glittering faintly under the streetlight. The ground sparkled as if scattered with tiny diamonds, and the only sound was the occasional rustle of snow falling from the trees.

“It is beautiful,” you admitted, looking back at him. He was still watching you, his eyes soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“See? I told you,” he said, his tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips tugged upward. “You’re going to catch a cold, though, standing out here like this.”

“I’m fine,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m waiting for you, so it doesn’t feel that cold.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and your heart did a little flip. You reached out to brush some snow off his shoulder. “Well, now I’m here. What do you want to do, Mr. Winter Wonderland?”

His grin turned mischievous. “Funny you should ask.” Without warning, he bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, compacting it into a ball.

“Oh, no,” you said, already taking a step back.

“Oh, yes,” he replied, laughing as he threw the snowball gently at you. It hit your shoulder with a soft poof, scattering in a spray of white.

“Ricky!” you yelped, bending down to grab your own handful of snow. “You’re going to regret that!”

The next few minutes were pure chaos. Snowballs flew back and forth as you chased each other around the yard, slipping and sliding on the fresh powder. Ricky’s aim was annoyingly good, and he was quick on his feet, ducking behind trees or diving into snowbanks to avoid your throws.

“You’re too good at this!” you shouted, crouching behind a tree for cover.

“Years of practice,” he called back, his voice full of laughter. He peeked out from his hiding spot, smirking. “You’re going to have to do better than that, my love!”

You grumbled under your breath, trying to aim your next throw, but just as you were about to launch it, Ricky appeared out of nowhere and tackled you into the snow.

“Truce!” you gasped, laughing as you fell onto your back.

“Truce,” he agreed, flopping down beside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

For a moment, the two of you lay there in silence, staring up at the sky. The snow continued to fall, soft and steady, and the cold seeped through your clothes, but you didn’t care.

“This is nice,” you said quietly, turning your head to look at him.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice softer now. His eyes met yours, and with the way he looked at you. Let’s just say it was joyful. It was like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire snowy world, it made your heart ache in the best way.

Then, without warning, he started moving his arms and legs, the snow crunching beneath him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Making a snow angel,” he said, grinning up at the sky. “You should try it.”

You rolled your eyes, but his enthusiasm was infectious. “Fine,” you said, lying back down and copying his movements.

When you both sat up to admire your work, the snow angels were slightly crooked and uneven, but they looked perfect side by side.

“They’re kind of cute,” you admitted, brushing some snow off your gloves.

“Kind of?” Ricky nudged you with his shoulder. “You mean completely adorable, just like us.”

You laughed, shoving him lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied, his tone teasing but his eyes soft. He reached out, brushing a stray snowflake from your hair. “I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you leaned into his touch. “Maybe I’m the lucky one.”

He smiled, leaning closer until your foreheads touched. “Guess we’re both pretty lucky, then.”

The cold didn’t matter anymore. With Ricky by your side, the world felt warm, even in the middle of a snowy winter.

banner: @anitalenia

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Adore Me (Seungcheol x reader)

Summary: You are to go on vacation with Choi Seungcheol, Scoups, a member of a popular Kpop group Seventeen as a videographer, recording his vacation in Japan alone.

Genre: fluff

its a work of fiction!

Seventeen Masterlist

watch his Japan vacation vlog for more context

"Your hair looks okay, stop playing with it" the manager chimes in while we get some lunch. Seungcheol hijacked the camera for himself in front of him, partially so you could focus on the food. you were grateful.

Seungcheol and you were acquaintance, you've shot with seventeen multiple of their behind the scenes YouTube content so the boys are familiar with you. But this vacation seemed a little extra burdensome. Going with just Cheol and his manager was a bit awkward. You were always awkward around Cheol. Maybe it was his aura that intimidated you. With the other members around it wasn't as tense. "It's too cold here, my lips are chapped" he says gobbling up the food in front of him.

"Eat y/n, the food's gonna get cold" the manager says to you.

"It's it hot, there's steam coming out of it" you mention with your eyes on the food wanting to eat but not burning yourself.

You gather courage and take a bit of the food, immediately regretting it, you could not feel your tongue. You let out an involuntary squeal.

"Yah yah!" Cheol hands you a glass of water, his glass of water.

"Thanks" you mutter under your breath. Unsure of if he heard it even.

___

After lunch, you head out to the snow festival, the first thing that catches your eye are the small snowmen made by kids, there were at least a 50 of them, they were too cute, you ended up taking an insert.

"Are these what the kids made?" a voice behind you startles you and makes you jump.

You put a hand over your chest, "you scared me"

He giggles.

You've never seen him giggle this up close. It was kinda cute. You get why there's people praying to have him.

He catches a small smile on your face. "That's the first time you've smiled at me all trip" he says causing you to blush a little bit.

"Let's get your making a snowman" you say quickly changing the subject and he squats to collect the snow to make one.

He balls up the snow and hunts for twigs to make limbs out of. A kind child comes up to him and offers the twigs he had. It makes your heart melt.

___

The next day you head out to get some pictures in the beautiful snow. The manager felt sick from all the cold and could not make it. It made you nervous.

"Just some cute pictures for CARATs" He says and plops on the snow. He looked smaller than when he usually towers over you. Very pocket sized.

"Play with the snow, do something" you suggest. He ends up making a snow angel getting snow all over his beanie.

A couple more shots and you were done. He was on the snow and he tries to get up but couldn't. A chuckle escapes his lips embarrassed.

"My butt is frozen"

That makes you laugh too hard. You give him a hand not realising he is a huge man. He plops back down. He was now sulking while you laugh some more.

"You did that on purpose didn't you?"

"I didn't, I promise" you say and give him a hand again this time anchoring your feet in the snow a little better.

___

You are now headed the museum music boxes. Cheol stops to take pictures here and there.

"Something's wrong, I can't get this to focus" he says sulking and bringing the camera to you.

You take a look while he was right next to you looking, the cold air from his breathing was fogging up the screen. "You're fogging the screen" you say pulling the camera away from him.

"But I wanna see" he whines.

He's very sulky for a 28 year old man. You found it cute.

You fix his focus and he was now a happy child.

You make it to the museum and you follow him around as he tries out every music box. The way he intently tried to listen to the music from the box admist the crowd and the noise was adorable. His eyebrows furrowed, trying really hard to concentrate. Sometimes his eyes widen like a child, surprised at the tune.

"What song is this?" he hums a tune unfamiliar to you.

You listen to it, trying hard to remember.

"I have no idea"

"ah! It's Celine Dion! Every night in my dreams.." he sings softly.

"How did you not recognise that? Are you new to earth?" he jokes, putting the clock down. You crack a smile.

"Guess I am an alien from the star"

After some more picture taking you head out for dinner. ____

"Is not just my trip, you're allowed to get pictures"

You were clicking some pictures on the streets of Cheol. He thought you should get some pictures as well.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course, it's a vacation" he states and takes the camera from you pushes you to the scene.

You awkwardly throw a peace sign as one does.

"Ma'am look here, look here" he acts like a paparazzi that makes you laugh a little. He clicks multiple candids of you laughing.

You check the photos and they've come out well.

"Maybe you should consider switching career, Mr. Choi" you tease.

The pictures were cute.

"It's all the subject of the photo" he compliments and makes your face red.

____

You hand him a chapstick at at the restaurant, you've come to have dinner. His chapped lips were bothering you too much.

"Why are you looking at my lips anyway"

"They're so chapped! Don't they hurt?"

"Aww you care about me"

You roll your eyes, "Whatever helps you sleep well tonight"

He opens his mouth to say something but on second thought stops. He hijacks the camera once again to place in front of him.

He gets a few clips of him eating while you annihilate the food in your plate.

____

You were now walking back to the hotel, today was the last day of the vacation. You were a little bummed, Japan was beautiful, you made a promise to yourself mentally to come back here someday with your friends and family.

"How was this trip?" cheol's voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"How was your trip?" you ask him, it was his trip. You were only an employee he hired at the end of the day.

"I had a relaxing trip"

"That's all that matters" you smile.

"That's not true"

"Why?"

You hear him inhale sharply.

"Did you not feel relaxed?"

"I did" you look at him confused, there was definitely an answer he wanted to hear, but you were unsure of it.

"Good" he says, looking satisfied with himself.

"Dokyeom told me you've been running around a lot lately" he starts.

"I have, there's so much content to edit, I've just been cooped up in my studio"

"I know, I thought this trip will do you good"

"What do you mean?" you stop at your tracks looking at him. He stops too.

"I asked for you specifically to come with me to shoot me"

You were touched and confused at the same time. "Why'd you do that?"

"I don't know, I thought you could use a break"

You smile at him appreciatively. "That's sweet of you, I didn't think you would do that" you add.

"What makes you say that?"

"It's just you have this aura"

"Have you been scared of me all this while?"

"Of course not!" you don't sound convincing at all.

He laughs at the lack of conviction.

"I hope you're not scared of me anymore"

"You're actually very adorable" it just slips out of your mouth as you defended yourself.

"why, thank you" he says confidently with his ears going red, either because of your compliment or the cold. You weren't sure.

"I hope you continue to adore me"

"I will"

[staygolden-and-chaotic]

You'll never guess who's requesting this cuz you've never met me 😈

Anyways CAN you do maybe the outsiders boys reaction to an albino greaser? It can be any gender and be reader I just wanna know what you think they'd do or say

Sincerely

A greaser named bug

Nice to meet you bug 😏 but ofccccccc I hope you like it bug💗 I’ll also try to make it gender neutral.

Sincerely

Someone who is winging it🫶🏻

Darrell Curtis

Darry first met you at the grocery store when you were struggling to reach a box of cereal on the top shelf. Being the gentleman he is, he stepped in to grab it for you, and that’s where your conversations started. He was instantly intrigued by your unique appearance.

At first, he was nervous about asking you out. Darry’s got that quiet, steady confidence, but something about you threw him off in the best way. Maybe it was the way your pale skin seemed to glow under the store lights or the sharp intelligence in your eyes.

He loved learning more about albinism and made it a priority to understand how to support you. He’s the type of guy who’d read up on the importance of sunglasses, sunscreen, and any health concerns, making sure you’re always protected. He’d carry a pair of your sunglasses in his truck just in case you forgot yours.

The gang noticed how protective he became of you. If they were hanging out in the sun, Darry made sure there was a shady spot for you to sit and wouldn’t hesitate to drag a chair over for you.

Ponyboy, being a little poetic, would occasionally compare you to the moon soft, glowing, and beautiful. You’d always laugh, but Darry would get this proud, quiet smile like, Yeah, that’s mine.

Darry loved running his hands through your hair. He was mesmerized by its silky white strands and would sometimes find himself just brushing it back while you sat beside him. It became one of his favorite ways to relax after work.

He’d often remind you that you’re beautiful, especially if you ever felt self-conscious about standing out. If someone dared to make a rude comment, Darry’s calm demeanor would snap. He wouldn’t cause a scene, but the steel in his voice when he told someone to back off made it clear they’d regret crossing him.

Date nights were always thoughtful but practical. Darry loved taking you to quieter places, like drive-in movies or picnics at the park during sunset when the sunlight wasn’t too harsh. He loved seeing you comfortable and happy.

The boys absolutely adored you. You brought a calmness to the Curtis house that even Darry appreciated. Whenever things got rowdy, you’d just smile and remind Darry to let loose every now and then.

One night, Soda teased Darry by calling him “lovesick” after he caught Darry staring at you while you talked with Ponyboy. Instead of denying it, Darry just grinned and said, “What can I say? There one of a kind.

Sodapop Curtis

Soda first noticed you while working at the DX. You came in to ask for directions, and the way the sunlight hit your pale skin and silvery hair made him freeze mid sentence. He’d always been a charmer, but with you, he couldn’t help but stutter.

He immediately turned on the charm after recovering, offering to help you with more than just directions. “Need your tires checked? Oil changed? A tour guide around town? I’m your guy.”

From that day, you started coming by the DX more often sometimes for gas, sometimes just to chat. Soda would always light up when he saw you pull in, running to your car before Steve even had the chance to look your way.

Soda loved how unique you were, always calling you his “snow angel” or “moonbeam.” He’d joke that you were so stunning, people had to wear sunglasses just to look at you.

He’d constantly find little ways to dote on you. If it was sunny, he’d remind you to put on sunscreen and even apply it for you if you let him. On cloudy days, he’d wrap his arm around you, saying, “Perfect weather for my perfect baby.”

Soda was fiercely protective. If anyone ever stared too long or made a rude comment about your albinism, he’d immediately jump in with his signature mix of charm and sass. “Yeah, they’re gorgeous, ain’t they? You want an autograph or something?”

He’d love showing you off to the gang. When he introduced you to them, he couldn’t stop grinning and kept saying, “aren’t they just the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Ponyboy would occasionally ask questions about your albinism, and you’d patiently explain it to him. Soda would listen intently too, wanting to understand everything he could about you.

He loved touching your hair. Whether it was brushing his fingers through it or playing with a strand absentmindedly, he was mesmerized by how soft and silky it was. He’d often joke, “How’d I get lucky enough to date someone straight out of a fairytale?”

Date nights with Soda were always fun and full of energy. He’d take you to the drive in, carnival, or the park for a late night walk when the sun wasn’t an issue. He’d always make you laugh, whether it was through goofy jokes or sneaking extra popcorn into the movies.

Soda would constantly remind you how beautiful you were, especially if you ever felt self conscious about standing out. “You’re one in a million, babe. Nobody else could even come close to you.”

One time, you caught Soda telling Steve, “they’re not just gorgeous, man. They’re everything. I don’t know what I’d do without them.” Steve teased him for being so sappy, but Soda just shrugged with a goofy grin.

One day when you felt out of place or overwhelmed by the stares, soda would wrap you in his arms, kiss the top of your head, and whisper “Your my moonbeam, babe. Nobody else shines like you do.”

Ponyboy Curtis

Pony first saw you at the library, tucked away in a corner with a book in your lap. He couldn’t help but stare your pale skin and snowy hair seemed almost unreal, like you’d stepped out of a storybook.

You caught him staring, and he quickly looked away, blushing furiously. When you smiled at him, though, it gave him enough courage to strike up a conversation.

He was captivated by how soft spoken and kind you were. You bonded over your shared love of books, and Ponyboy found himself seeking you out every time he went to the library.

Pony was curious about your albinism but was too polite to ask at first. When you brought it up yourself, he listened intently, asking thoughtful questions to understand you better. He admired how confident you were about explaining something so personal.

The first time he complimented you, it was so casual and genuine that it caught you off guard. “Your hair looks just like starlight,” he said while flipping through a book, as if it was the most obvious observation in the world.

Pony would write poems about you how your skin glowed in the moonlight or how your unique beauty reminded him of something ethereal. He’d never show them to you unless you stumbled upon one in his notebook, which would make him turn redder than a tomato.

He loved taking you to quiet places where you could talk and relax. His favorite spot was a secluded area by the riverbank where the sunlight wasn’t too harsh, and you could read together.

Pony was fiercely protective in his own quiet way. If anyone made a rude comment or stared too long, he wouldn’t yell or fight, but his sharp, icy glare was enough to make them regret it.

The gang absolutely adored you. They teased Pony about how smitten he was, but they genuinely appreciated the calm and warmth you brought to their rowdy group. Even Dallas, who wasn’t easily impressed, would crack a rare grin when you were around.

Pony loved running his fingers through your hair, fascinated by its silky texture. “It’s like clouds,” he’d murmur, almost in awe.

On tougher days, when you felt out of place or overwhelmed by how much you stood out, Pony would comfort you with his words. “You’re not different in a bad way, y’know? You’re different in the kind of way that makes people remember you. Like a rare flower or a shooting star.”

He’d sometimes read aloud to you, his voice soft and full of emotion. Whether it was poetry, Shakespeare, or something you’d picked, he always managed to make the words sound magical.

One time, Johnny caught Ponyboy staring at you with this dreamy expression, and when he teased him about it, Pony just shrugged and said, “Can you blame me? They’re like the main character in every story I’ve ever loved.”

Johnny Cade

The first time Johnny saw you was at the park. You were sitting alone, sketching in a notebook. He was too shy to approach you at first, but when he saw your drawing, he couldn’t help but compliment it. “That’s real nice,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him with a smile, and Johnny was immediately struck by how unique and beautiful you were. He wasn’t used to talking to girls, especially not ones who looked like they belonged in a painting.

Over time, you and Johnny started spending more time together, often at the park or the lot. You’d draw while he watched, and he’d tell you about his life, feeling comfortable enough to open up in a way he rarely did with anyone else.

He was fascinated by your albinism. When you mentioned it casually one day, he listened intently, his dark eyes filled with curiosity and admiration. “You’re… real different. In a good way,” he said softly, trying not to sound awkward.

Johnny was always gentle and considerate, making sure you were comfortable. If the sun was too bright, he’d offer his jacket to shield you or suggest moving to a shady spot. He’d even remind you to put on sunscreen, though he’d blush while doing it.

He loved your hair and often found himself staring at it, amazed by how soft and light it looked. If you ever let him touch it, he’d do so tentatively, like it was the most delicate thing in the world.

The gang noticed how much happier Johnny seemed when he was around you. They teased him about it, but he didn’t mind too much he was just glad to have someone like you in his life.

You made Johnny feel seen and appreciated in a way he wasn’t used to. He’d always felt like a shadow, but with you, he felt like he mattered.

He’d get protective of you, especially if anyone made rude comments or stared too long. While he wasn’t the type to start fights, he’d stand his ground if he thought someone was being disrespectful.

One of Johnny’s favorite things was watching you draw. He’d sit beside you in quiet awe, occasionally asking about your process or offering ideas. Once, you surprised him by sketching a portrait of him, and he was so touched he couldn’t find the words to thank you.

Johnny wasn’t great with words, but he had his own way of showing how much he cared. He’d bring you little things he thought you’d like a pretty rock, a flower, or a book he borrowed from the library.

On days when you felt self conscious about your albinism, Johnny would do everything he could to comfort you. “You’re… special,” he’d say quietly, his voice full of sincerity. “Not just ‘cause of how you look. You’re just… you. And that’s more than enough.”

He loved quiet moments with you, like sitting under the stars and talking about your dreams. You’d reassure him that he was more than his tough life, and he’d start to believe it when he saw how much you cared.

One night, when you asked him why he always seemed so amazed by you, he looked at you with soft, honest eyes and said, “’Cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen… and I’ve seen a lot of sunsets.”

Dallas Winston

Dally first noticed you when you walked into Buck’s for a drink. Your pale skin and bright hair stood out in the smoky, dimly lit bar, and he couldn’t help but stare. “Well, ain’t you a sight,” he said, flashing his trademark smirk.

At first, you weren’t sure if he was teasing or genuinely interested, but Dally didn’t waste any time making it clear he was intrigued. He’d swagger over, lean against the bar, and say, “What’s someone like you doing in a place like this? Lookin’ for trouble?”

Dally was fascinated by your appearance. He wasn’t used to seeing someone so unique, and he made it a point to tell you just how stunning you were sometimes in the bluntest, most Dally way possible. “You’re somethin’ else, doll. Never seen anyone like you, and I’ve been around.”

He loved the way people’s eyes lingered on you when you were together. It fed his ego to know he had someone as striking as you by his side. If anyone dared to say something rude, though, Dally wouldn’t hesitate to throw a punch. “Got somethin’ to say? Didn’t think so.”

Dally was surprisingly attentive when it came to your albinism. He’d tease you about being a “snow angel” or “ghost,” He’d casually hand you his jacket if you forgot to bring something to cover up. “Don’t need you fryin’ out here, babe.”

He wasn’t the type to outright say how much he cared, but his actions spoke louder than words. Whether it was making sure you stayed out of trouble or keeping people from bothering you, Dally always had your back.

He loved your hair. He’d run his fingers through it, tug it gently, or just brush it back while giving you that cocky grin. “Soft as hell,” he’d mutter, almost like he was talking to himself.

Despite his tough exterior, Dally had a soft spot for you. You brought out a gentler side of him that few people ever saw. He’d still act like a rebel, but around you, he’d lower his walls just enough to let you see the real him.

The gang noticed the change in him when you were around. He was still Dally rough, cocky, and wild but they could see how protective he was of you. Even TwoBit joked, “Looks like Dally’s finally gone soft,” earning a glare from him.

Dally loved taking you on reckless adventures. Whether it was sneaking into movies, speeding down empty roads, or getting into places you weren’t supposed to be, he made sure life with him was never boring.

When you felt self-conscious about standing out, Dally wouldn’t sugarcoat his response. “So what if people stare? Let ‘em. They’re just jealous they’ll never look as good as you do, doll.”

He loved showing you off, especially in public. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, he’d smirk at anyone who dared to look your way. “Yeah, they’re with me. Got a problem with that?”

On rare, quiet nights, he’d open up to you about his rough life, surprised by how much comfort your presence gave him. He’d never admit it outright, but being with you made him feel like maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

One night, after a particularly wild day, he turned to you with a serious look in his eyes and said, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, doll. Don’t let it go to your head, though.”

Steve Randle

Steve first noticed you at the DX when you came in to get your car checked out. He was working under the hood of a car, but when you walked in, he nearly dropped his wrench. “Holy smokes,” he muttered under his breath, barely able to keep his cool.

Unlike Soda, who was always smooth with compliments, Steve’s reaction to you was clumsy. “Uh, you need… uh… gas or somethin’? Wait, no, you’re here for the car. Obviously.” It was awkward but endearing.

He was fascinated by your looks but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Instead of outright saying something, he’d sneak little glances your way, trying to act casual. It was Soda who eventually teased him into actually asking you out.

Steve loved working on your car just so he had an excuse to see you. He’d take extra care to make sure everything was perfect, even throwing in a free tune up here and there. “Gotta keep your ride running smooth, just like you.”

He quickly learned about your albinism when you explained why you always wore sunglasses and avoided the sun. Steve didn’t know much about it but was eager to learn. “So, sunscreen’s, like, a must, huh? Don’t worry I’ll keep some in the car for you.”

He loved showing you off to people, especially when they stared. Wrapping an arm around you, he’d smirk and say, “Yeah, they’re with me. Bet you’ve never seen anyone like them, huh?”

Steve could get hot headed if anyone said something rude about you. He wouldn’t hesitate to throw hands if he thought someone was disrespecting you. “Got somethin’ to say? Say it to me.”

The gang teased Steve endlessly about how much he adored you, but he didn’t care. “Yeah, I’m whipped. So what?” he’d say, shrugging it off with a grin.

Steve loved taking you for rides in his car, especially at night when the sun wasn’t a problem. He’d crank up the radio, roll down the windows, and let you feel the wind in your hair as he drove around town.

He wasn’t great with words, but he’d always find little ways to show how much he cared like fixing things for you, bringing you your favorite snacks, or surprising you with a mixtape of songs that reminded him of you.

On days when you felt self conscious about your albinism, Steve wouldn’t let you dwell on it. “Babe, you’re a knockout. People don’t stare ‘cause you’re weird they stare ‘cause they’ve never seen anything as gorgeous as you.”

One time, he caught himself staring at you while you were talking to Ponyboy about books. When you asked what he was looking at, he just smirked and said, “My baby, that’s what. Can’t blame me, can ya?”

Two-Bit Mathews

Two-Bit first saw you at the movies when you were sitting in the row ahead of him. He couldn’t help but lean forward and crack a joke about the film, just to get your attention. When you laughed, he was hooked.

After the movie, he practically ran after you to introduce himself. “So, do I get the honor of knowing the name of the prettiest person in the theater?” he’d ask with his signature grin.

Two-Bit loved teasing you, but it was always playful and never mean-spirited. He’d call you things like “Snowflake” but the way he said it always made you laugh instead of cringe.

He was completely fascinated by your appearance. “You look like you belong on one of those fancy magazine covers,” he’d say with a smirk. “Maybe I should start carrying a camera around just to keep up with you.”

The first time he learned about your albinism, he made a big deal about how cool it was. “Wait, so you’re, like, one in a million? That’s wild. I always knew I had good taste.”

Two-Bit was incredibly protective in his own goofy way. If someone stared at you too long, he’d walk up to them and say, “Take a picture it’ll last longer.” If they kept it up, his tone would shift to something sharper. “You deaf, pal? Move it.”

He loved to joke about how pale you were, but he always followed it up with a compliment. “You’re so bright, you’re putting the sun to shame. No wonder I need sunglasses around you.”

The gang quickly noticed how smitten he was. They’d tease him relentlessly, but he’d just shrug and grin. “What can I say? I’m a lucky guy. Not everyone gets a snow angel for a partner .”

Two-Bit loved taking you on silly adventures, like sneaking into drive ins or pranking random people in the neighborhood. “Life’s too short to be boring, babe. Let’s make some memories.”

He was surprisingly sweet when it came to taking care of you. He’d always remind you to put on sunscreen or bring sunglasses, even jokingly offering to carry an umbrella for shade. “Gotta keep my snowflake from melting.”

If you ever felt self conscious about your albinism, Two-Bit would immediately shut it down with his humor and charm. “Babe, if everyone else doesn’t see how gorgeous you are, that’s their loss. Guess that means I get you all to myself.”

He loved showing you off in public. “Yep, that’s my mine,” he’d say with a cocky grin whenever someone glanced your way. “Go ahead and look, but don’t touch. They’re taken.”

One time, he surprised you with a snow globe he found at a thrift shop. “Look! It reminded me of you tiny, perfect, and way outta my league.”

Late at night, when the two of you were alone, his goofy side would fade, and he’d get more serious. “You know I’m crazy about you, right? Don’t need to change a thing about yourself, doll. You’re perfect as is.”

Tim Shepard

Tim first saw you hanging around the neighborhood, and while he didn’t usually stop to notice people, you caught his eye immediately. Your pale skin, white hair, and quiet confidence stood out in a world of chaos.

He wasn’t the type to stumble over his words, so he walked right up to you, smirking. “You lost, or do you just like hangin’ out in rough neighborhoods?” When you fired back a sassy response, he knew you were someone he wanted to know better.

Tim was intrigued by your albinism, though he didn’t make a big deal out of it. He’d ask a few questions here and there, always casual, but it was clear he found your uniqueness fascinating.

He loved the way you stood out from everyone else. “You’re not like the other people around here,” he’d say, his voice low and sincere. “And that’s a good thing.”

Tim wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but he was fiercely protective of you. If anyone stared too long or made a rude comment, they’d get a cold glare or worse.

Despite his tough exterior, Tim had a soft spot for you. He’d go out of his way to make sure you were safe and comfortable, even if it meant slowing down his usually chaotic lifestyle.

The Shepard gang respected you immediately because of how much Tim cared about you. Nobody dared to mess with you, knowing full well Tim would make them regret it.

Tim wasn’t much for words, but his actions spoke volumes. He’d walk you home after dark, make sure you ate when you were too busy to remember, and even fix things around your house without being asked.

You brought out a softer side of him that few people ever saw. While he was still tough and intimidating to everyone else, with you, he was patient and gentle.

On tough days, when you felt self conscious about standing out, Tim would sit beside you, his hand resting on your knee. “Look, you’re not just different you’re better. They don’t like it? Screw ‘em. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

He wasn’t big on romantic gestures, but he had his moments. Once, he carved your initials into a tree in the lot where his gang hung out, grinning as he showed you. “Figured I’d make it official.”

Tim loved taking you for rides in his car , especially at night when the world felt quiet. He’d let you wrap your arms around him as he sped through the streets, the wind in your hair. “Ain’t nobody out here but us, doll. Feels nice, don’t it?”

Despite his rough and tumble lifestyle, Tim was incredibly careful with you. He made sure you never felt like you had to change who you were to fit into his world. “You’re already perfect,” he’d say, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Curly Shepard

Curly first noticed you at a party when one of his friends pointed you out, saying, “Look at that angel over there.” At first, he rolled his eyes, but when he turned and saw you, his cocky smirk faltered. He wasn’t expecting someone who looked so… different and stunning.

He sauntered over to you with that signature swagger, crossing his arms and flashing you a grin. “So, what’s someone like you doin’ at a party like this? Slummin’ it with us hoods?” He meant it as a joke, but he couldn’t help the genuine curiosity in his tone.

Curly was the type to tease you relentlessly, calling you “Snow White” or “Frostbite,” but there was never any malice behind his words. If anything, it was his way of flirting and he loved how flustered you’d get.

He was fascinated by your albinism but didn’t ask a million questions like most people did. Instead, he’d make casual observations, like, “Your hair’s brighter than the streetlights, babe,” or, “You’re the first person I’ve met who can outshine the moon.”

Curly was protective to the extreme. If anyone stared at you too long or said something stupid, he’d immediately step in, cracking his knuckles and smirking dangerously. “ you got 3 seconds to apologize or I’m going to knock your face in’.”

He loved showing you off, especially to his gang. “Yeah, they’re with me,” he’d say proudly, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Ain’t they somethin’?”

Curly had no problem stealing things for you. If you mentioned wanting something, he’d show up with it the next day, shrugging nonchalantly when you asked how he got it. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, babe. Just call it a gift.”

He was always playful, constantly messing with you in the cutest ways. He’d steal your sunglasses, hold them above your head, and laugh as you tried to grab them back. “C’mon, you don’t need these. You’re already too cool.”

If you ever felt self conscious about standing out, Curly would be quick to shut it down. “Who cares what anyone else thinks? They’re just jealous they ain’t half as good lookin’ as you.”

He had a wild side and loved dragging you along on his adventures, whether it was sneaking into drive-ins, racing through town on a stolen bike, or just causing trouble in the neighborhood. “Stick with me, doll. Life’s never boring when you’re rollin’ with Curly Shepard.”

Despite his tough exterior, Curly had a soft side that he only showed to you. When it was just the two of you, he’d let his guard down, resting his head in your lap or holding your hand while you talked about everything and nothing.

He wasn’t great with romantic words, but he’d show his affection through his actions. Whether it was giving you his jacket on a chilly night or showing up to your house at midnight just to see you, he always found a way to remind you how much he cared.

One night, as the two of you sat on the hood of his car, staring at the stars, Curly turned to you and said, “You know, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it.���

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

An Offer You Can't Refuse- Part 3

Part 2

Hero did not win. They woke up back in their bed, a few bruises blooming across their body, with the beginnings of a black eye. They groaned, sitting up.

“Ow…” Hero mumbled.

“How are you feeling?”

Hero jolted, and immediately regretted it, as that only served to aggravate their angry bruises. They turned their head- ow- and saw Supervillain sitting at their bedside. Their brows were knitted together, and their mouth was drawn in a thin line. Oh, Hero had really screwed up now.

“I, um,” Hero stammered, “listen, if you’re going to kill me- please just make it quick-”

Supervillain’s expression softened. They held out an ice pack to Hero.

“I’m not angry with you, Snow Angel,” he said, “though I am a bit upset you ignored my instructions.”

Hero cautiously took the ice pack and held it up to their swollen eye. They used their powers to make the pack a little colder.

Supervillain grabbed a glass of water and two small pills off the nightstand. Hero eyed the pills warily.

“they’re not drugs,” Supervillain said, “just pain relievers.”

Even if they were drugs, what choice did Hero have? They took the pills and swallowed them with the water.

“I’m afraid your little stunt has forced my hand- I’ve had to increase your security,” Supervillain said, taking the empty glass from Hero, “but before we get into anything else, let me apologize.”

Hero blinked in surprise.

“I gave my men strict orders that you are not to be harmed under any circumstances,” Supervillain said, “the henchman who apprehended you seemed to have forgotten that. You won’t have to worry about them anymore, however. The only thing they’ll be doing now is fertilizing my plants.”

Hero’s face went pale. So now someone was dead because of them.

“Oh, Snow Angel,” Supervillain sighed, “what am I going to do with you?”

“You could start by telling me why the heck you brought me here in the first place!” Hero shouted, “I can tell you right now I’m not going to be your living weapon!”

“Who said you were?” Supervillain asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hero sputtered in disbelief.

“It’s very heavily implied- it’s- it’s- if it’s not that then what for!?”

There was an all-too-convenient knock on the door, and Supervillain was more than happy to take the opportunity to go open it and forget about Hero’s question entirely. A henchman walked in, pushing a cart full of breakfast food inside. Supervillain thanked them; the henchman nodded and left the room. Supervillain sat back down at Hero’s bedside and set a tray from the top shelf of the cart in their lap.

“That isn’t drugged either,” Supervillain said, reading Hero’s face.

Hero’s eyes bounced from the tray of food, to Supervillain, to the food, to Supervillain, and finally back to the food. Hesitantly, they took a very, very small bite… and melted.

“Good, isn’t it?” Supervillain smiled.

“Mhm…” Hero agreed.

Their mouth was in heaven, and before they knew it, the plate was empty.

“Judging by the state of this-” Supervillain held up the cleared plate, “-someone was indeed hungry. First you sleep for almost a whole day, then this. It’s a good thing I bought you when I did, you’ve been neglecting yourself.”

“Wha- I have not been neglecting myself!” Hero protested.

“Hm,” Supervillain hummed, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Supervillain took the tray up, setting it back on the cart and pushing it to the side. They got up, holding their hand out to Hero. Hero eyed it with a puzzled expression.

“Wouldn’t you like to see the grounds?” Supervillain prompted.

Hero blinked. Yes, actually, they very much would. If they knew the layout of Supervillain’s home, the easier it would be to escape it. Hero took Supervillain’s hand and slid on some slippers that had been left out for them. Supervillain smiled and led Hero out of the room.

Part 4

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[tortillamastersblog]

꧁ Angels Don’t Cry - Part 5 | Mor ꧂

Pairing: Mor x reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, injuries, blood, kidnapping, vomiting and explicit language

Summary: After Hybern’s defeat, the Inner Circle makes a grave discovery in the late King’s dungeons. . .

Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

“Y/N!”

Elain’s frantic shout makes me drop my decorating spatula and before I get the chance to leave the back of the bakery to meet her out front she’s already standing in the doorway with flushed cheeks.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I ask, frantically taking off my apron.

“I figured it out!” she exclaims ignoring my questions and beaming from ear to ear.

“You figured it out?” I echo with a frown. “What did you figure out?”

“What it means, of course! The tugging, the longing!” she exclaims.

Oh. . . That. I completely forgot to tell her about it when I figured it out myself, but it seems as though she didn’t need me to tell her.

“I have a mate!” she goes on, gesturing wildly with her hands. “And it’s not Lucien!”

“It’s not?!” I’m too shocked to even pretend I didn’t know the tugging is caused by the mating bond, whether it’s snapped into place yet or not.

Elain shakes her head and closes the small distance between us to hold onto my forearms. She hasn’t even bothered to take off her snow covered coat yet, leaving a trail of water and dirt on the floor. “No, it’s not. . .It’s Azriel.”

My jaw drops at that. “It is?!”

“He came by the Town House this morning and told me how he felt and then it all kind of just clicked, I guess. It’s hard to explain, but. . . He’s my mate! Can you believe it?

I gape at her for a moment longer before snapping out of my trance and smiling at her. “I— Wow, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you. So, what now? Are you two together?”

Elain shakes her head but her smile doesn’t disappear. “No, not yet. He wants to take me on a date first before we make it official.”

“That’s great, El! I’m so happy for you, you definitely have to keep me updated and tell my brother that if he breaks your heart I will rip his spine out and beat him to death with it,” I joke lightly, but the underlying message is clear. If he hurts her, I’ll make sure he regrets it.

Elain starts crying happy tears and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you! You’re the best.”

I snort and pull back. “I hardly did anything.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she says, wiping away her tears. “You’re always here for me and I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

I smile at that and pull her in for another quick hug. “You’re not too bad either, little one,” I joke. “But I do have a job to get back to, so if we could continue this over lunch or dinner sometime I’d be eternally grateful.”

“Oh, of course!” she smiles sheepishly and hands me back my apron. “Here, I’ll stop by for lunch tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I’m looking forward to it.” I slip the apron back over my head and send her one last smile as she leaves before getting back to work.

I’m happy for Elain and my brother, but the fact that the bond snapped into place for her immediately after he told her makes my head spin a little.

Why didn’t it snap into place for me when Mor told me about our bond? Is it because we’re not actually mates? Or is it there already and it’s just not as strong or life-altering as I thought it would be?

Suddenly self-conscious, I get so lost in my work that I jump with a yelp a couple hours later when someone places a hand on my shoulder from behind.

“By the Cauldron!”

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mor chuckles softly and when I spin around she has a tentative smile on her face. “Didn’t you hear me come in?”

“No, not really,” I admit with a faint blush. “So, what brings you in? How did you even get back here? Isn’t Renee working the shop out front?”

Earlier when Elain came by, I was alone, but my coworker Renee showed up a couple of minutes ago to start her shift.

“Well,” Mor steps closer, her smile not fading. “when your coworker saw me she almost died of shock, so she kind of just waved for me to go in the back when I asked about you.”

I can’t help but chuckle at that because Renee’s reaction is completely understandable. It’s not often that Rhysand’s third in command just strolls into one’s workplace, especially not on a fairly busy day like today.

“As for why I’m here. . .” she trails off and lifts the brown paper bag in her hand. “I got you this.”

She hands me the bag with flushed cheeks after I wipe my hands on my apron. “What is it?“

Mor’s brown eyes soften as she watches me take a very thin, rectangular gift out of the bag. “Just open it.”

I narrow my eyes, but drop the paper bag and unwrap the gift. It turns out to be a vinyl record and once I get rid of all the wrapping paper I turn it over and read what it says on it, “A collection of the most beautiful piano pieces.”

My jaw drops and my eyes snap up to find Mor already watching me with a hopeful smile and a twinkle in her eyes. “Do you like it?”

I gape at her for a moment before looking back at the record in my hands. “I love it, b-but I don’t understand. Why are you giving me this?”

Mor takes another hesitant step forward. “The necklace you gave me for Winter Solstice was so thoughtful and it made me realize that I didn’t even get you anything in return which, in hindsight, I still don’t know why not, I just thought you wouldn’t even want a gift from me, but then I saw this–“ she pulls the necklace from beneath her jacket–“and I knew I had to get you something, too, so. . . Happy belated Winter Solstice, I guess.”

I clutch the record to my chest for a second before putting it down and pulling her into an impromptu hug. It makes her gasp and for a moment I think it was the wrong thing to do, but then she hugs me back and buries her face in my chest.

“Thank you.” I squeeze her in my arms. “I love it, but you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Yes I did,“ is all she says before pulling back.

We’re now so close I can smell her sandalwood perfume which makes my nose tingle and my heart beat rapidly in my chest.

“So, I heard a little rumor about Azriel and Elain. . .” she whispers, fixing the collar of my shirt.

I raise an eyebrow and try not to shiver at the brush of her fingers against my neck. “How could you possibly already know about that?“ I ask incredulously.

She shrugs, but smiles knowingly. “I have my sources. . .”

I raise my eyebrow even more which makes her elaborate. “Cassian told me this morning because he overheard Azriel telling Elain how he felt about her.”

I scoff and roll my eyes playfully. “Of course he did. He’s such a gossip.”

“How do you know?” she asks.

“Elain came in earlier and told me.” I explain, gulping when her brown eyes meet mine.

“And?” She stills her hands and rests them on my chest for a moment before stepping back. “How does she feel about it?”

I chuckle. “Pretty good I’d say, judging from the way she shouted the news.”

Softly biting her lip to hide a smile that’s beginning to form, Mor takes another step back and points a thumb over her shoulder. “Well, that’s good for her. I’m glad those two found each other. I’d love to stay and continue this little chat, but you’re busy and I’m already late for a meeting with Rhys, so. . .”

“I’ll see you around.” I smile and wave awkwardly, a gesture which she mirrors with a smile of her own before leaving.

“Bye!”

The record is beautiful. I’ve been listening to it daily for almost a week now and I’m still not sick of it.

I hum along to the current song and finish getting dressed just as a knock sounds at my door.

“It’s open!” I shout over my shoulder, checking my reflection in the mirror again. The front door opens and when I round the corner a smile tugs at my lips.

“Hiya!” Feyre beams and hugs me softly. “You look dashing.”

My eyes sweep over her midnight blue dress and I raise an eyebrow. “Me? Have you seen yourself? You look absolutely breathtaking. Rhys is one lucky son of a bitch.”

Feyre laughs and slaps my shoulder with a shy smile. “Oh, shut up. You ready to go?”

It’s Starfall tonight and because I’m still not comfortable flying, Feyre has offered to winnow us up to the House of Wind where the celebration is going to take place.

“Yeah, one second.” I rush to the mirror again and check to make sure my hair is still in place. I honestly have no idea where this sudden urge to look good has come from.

You look nice tonight. . .

The memory of Mor’s voice makes my skin flush and I raise a hand to tug at the suddenly too tight collar of my shirt.

“Y/N?”

My eyes snap up to connect with Feyre’s in the mirror. She’s watching me with a raised eyebrow and a half-smile playing on her lips.

“What’s got you all worked up?” she asks.

I clear my throat and turn around, tucking in my wings. “Nothing.”

Feyre crosses her arms, her eyebrow rising even more as she levels me with a challenging look.

“It’s—“ I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale shakily. “It’s Mor. . .”

“What about her? Has she said something else to you? I swear I talked to her! I thought the two of you were getting along lately.” Feyre is quick to step into my space, tugging on my forearms to get me to look at her.

I shake my head and chuckle softly. “No, no it’s not about that. We have been getting along, if that’s what you want to call it. . . She’s— Uh— She’s actually my mate.”

Feyre’s jaw drops and her eyes widen instantly. “She’s what?!”

Shrugging, I smile sheepishly. “She’s my mate, Fey. . .”

“I— What?! — How long have you known? Are you two, like, together now? Or is—“

“No, we’re not together,” I cut her off immediately, blushing at even just the thought of being with Mor. “Things are a little more complicated than that.”

Feyre frowns and tilts her head slightly. “How come?”

I sigh and step out of her embrace to grab my jacket from the back of the couch. “I haven’t accepted the bond yet. . .”

“Why not? I mean— I know the two of you had a rocky start, but the mating bond—“

“It hasn’t snapped into place for me yet.” I explain, putting on my jacket. “And I’m still not exactly sure how I feel about it.”

Feyre watches me with a contemplative look. “Okay. . . I get that, but you do know that the connection is only going to get stronger, right? So if you really don’t want it, you should reject it sooner rather than later.”

I nod. “Yeah, I know. . .”

Feyre’s eyes soften and she crosses the room to pull me into a tight hug. “I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s best for you soon.”

I scoff playfully and squeeze her in my arms. “Thanks. I appreciate you always being here for me.”

Feyre pokes my wing and pulls back with a smile. “Of course. Always. Now. . . Should we get going?”

I nod and gesture for her to lead the way out of the apartment.

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Only one (or two) more parts to go after this one!

[lilacwrite]

🎀NXX boys~Winter Wonderland (winter dates!)

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ARTEM: Gingerbread house decorating!

Artem would love nothing more than decorating your dream house together. Artem cooked everything beforehand and all you had to do was to decorate it the best you could. He knows you got this! Although if you somehow struggle he's more than happy to show you and guide your hands while he's behind you, practically whispering the instructions to you. His gentle hands carefully move yours up and down along the gingerbread house. Never once hurrying you, making everything at your own peace. All so he can teach you the best technique on how to decorate and create the most stunning gingerbread house ever seen. (He's probably thinking that one day it won't be just the two of you in your dream house 🤭)

In the end, the house ends up looking so good that none of you could eat it. It would've been too cruel of a fate for such a stunning house.

LUKE: Cozy night in!

Luke just wants to be closer to you and cuddling while watching a Christmas movie is the perfect activity for the both of you. He knows you're tired so he makes it his mission to make you feel as relaxed as possible. Luke would give you a shoulder massage if that would make you feel better. He would try to make hot chocolate and you'd have to rush to help Luke to make sure he doesn't completely destroy your kitchen. Back to bed, with warm mugs in your hands, the two of you cuddle again, Luke putting an arm over your shoulder so he can feel as close to you as humanly possible. Every kiss scene he'll look at you and you have to raise your head and give him a peek on the cheek. At the end of the movie, impatient Luke finally kisses you while you smile in his arms, mugs long gone from your hands, on the nightstands.

Breaking the kiss, you have to answer the 'are you still watching?' question on the screen before choosing another cliche movie. (The main reason Luke likes them is that he ends up with a tone of kisses from you during and after the movie🤭 )

MARIUS: Snow angels!

The two of you are finally on a break from work and what better activity than running wild through the snow together. You throw one snowball at him just to have his attention, but he quickly turns it into a snow fight and now you're running for cover. With no place to hide, you throw yourself on the ground hoping the distance between the two of you would hide you a little of Marius's massive snowball. But there's no help, he spots you immediately. "Marius wait! I have a better idea!" you yell at him as you start moving your hands and legs, making angels in the snow. Marius seems to be pleased by this activity so he tosses the snowball away and throws himself in the snow by your side. He gets up first, helping you up before throwing you in another pile of snow so you two can make another pair of angels. Laughing, both of you get up simultaneously and seeing your rosy cheeks, Marius leads you to his car and back home.

You decide to have a sleepover at his place and end up in his clothes. To warm yourselves, Marius figured the best way was to cuddle. Tiredness takes over both of you so you end up falling asleep in each other's arms. (after you fall asleep first, Marius admires how beautiful you look, your hair down and rosy cheeks🤭)

VYN: Skating date!

This could go one of two ways. He's either stupidly good at it, olympic skater level or he's like a fish on land, barely holding himself.

In the case in which he's extremely good (not very likely) he'd guide you, hand in hand showing you how to move forward. If you're struggling he'd come near you, one hand in yours, the other on your waist, keeping you close to him making sure you're not slipping away.

In the opposite case, he's a complete mess. Vyn regrets every decision he has ever made that lead him to this torture than everyone seems to enjoy. He's confused, never once leaving the side of the ring, holding himself for dear life. You'd have to show him a few tips and tricks and he gains a little courage trying out your tricks. Vyn holds your hand as he tries to skate forward but he manages to drag the both of you on the floor. Laughing, you help him up and catch his cheeks, bringing him for a quick motivational kiss. "It's okay, no one is good on the first try. Let's try again!" That calms all his nerves as he's used with people looking at him with expectational glances. Vyn loves that you never looked like that at him, allowing him to make mistakes, reminding him that he's also a human.

At the end, Vyn managed to finally skate forward without falling more than two times. Good thing he's a fast learner. You get out of the ring and Vyn suggests getting a warm drink to warm the two of you and while you walk toward the nearby café, he takes the opportunity to hold your hands in his pocket to warm them because "skin to skin contact will warm you quicker than those gloves of yours". You smile at his probably not so factual remark and put your hands in his pockets. ( he loves the way your hand fits perfectly into his, reminding him how the two of you are so much better together )

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3 days left until Christmas is here!