#i think hes someone who when happy he glows

[archivequinn]

I loved your breaking up angst fic! Can I request an angst with a happy ending fic.

Eddie and Reader get into an argument and he does a really sweet gesture to make up for it.

I love your fics and always look forward to reading them when they pop up on my dashboard 🥰

Hello lovely! I hope your day is going very well. Your kind words make me very happy and I'm glad you like my fic. I wish I was able to write a fic like you wanted and I hope you enjoy reading it. I look forward to your comments. 🩷

Summary: Eddie forgets about your anniversary and makes up the night for you after you argue with him. angst to happy ending, fluff.

credit for dividers: @saradika-graphics

While waiting for Eddie to come home, you excitedly rolled up your sleeves to prepare for a day that would make him feel how special it was to you. Since the morning, there had been only one thought on your mind: celebrating your anniversary perfectly. You decided to prepare everything with both great care and love to make it flawless.

First, you headed to the kitchen. You thought about Eddie's favorite dishes: maybe the creamy pasta he's loved since childhood, or that amazing dessert you both recently discovered together. You took out the ingredients from the fridge and carefully began the preparations. As the clinking sounds of pots and pans filled the kitchen, you imagined how the evening would unfold. Once the food was ready, you elegantly plated it—creating a meal Eddie could never say no to.

Afterward, you moved on to setting the dinner table. You chose a soft champagne-colored tablecloth, something both romantic and elegant. On top, you placed tall white candles. When the idea of decorating the candles with red rose petals crossed your mind, a sweet sparkle lit up in your eyes. Once the petals were scattered across the table, it transformed into a work of art. The plates and silverware were meticulously arranged—every detail thoughtfully designed so Eddie would notice how much effort you'd put into this.

Next, it was time to get yourself ready. You picked that stunning dress—the one you were sure Eddie couldn't take his eyes off of every time he saw you wearing it. A long, elegant gown... perhaps black satin or one with lace details in a deep burgundy—whatever you chose, you felt incredible in it. As the dress brushed lightly against the floor, you twirled in front of the mirror and smiled at your reflection.

You began applying your makeup. A subtle eyeliner to highlight your eyes, a warm pink blush on your cheeks, and that favorite lipstick you loved. Once your makeup was finished, the mirror didn't just reflect your image; it showed someone who would absolutely take Eddie’s breath away. You styled your hair the way Eddie always adored: maybe natural waves or an elegant updo—whichever you chose, you felt absolutely beautiful at that moment.

For the background music, you put on the playlist you and Eddie had created together. Your favorite songs as a couple brought back happy memories one by one. The metal riffs resonated with the energy Eddie always brought whenever he picked up his guitar. But the playlist also had one or two slow, romantic songs Eddie had sneakily added as a surprise for you. Remembering how Eddie had thought of you while making this playlist brought an uncontrollable smile to your face.

When everything was finally ready, you gave the living room one last glance. The table glowed in the candlelight, soft music played in the background, and the delicious aroma of food filled the air. And of course, there was you—prepared and brimming with excitement for this special moment. Thinking about the expression on Eddie’s face as he walked through the door helped calm your nerves just a little.

The hours ticked by, and Eddie’s arrival was drawing closer. Everything was set, and now all that was left was to wait for him. Before greeting him, you took a few deep breaths and checked your reflection in the mirror one last time. Tonight had to be unforgettable.

Hours had passed. At first, you eagerly waited for the moment Eddie would walk through the door, but over time, anticipation slowly turned into despair. You had meticulously prepared the meal, elegantly decorated the table, and considered every detail, yet Eddie was nowhere to be found. Your phone remained silent; no messages, no explanations. It silently tore at you.

Initially, you tried to console yourself. "Maybe he’s stuck in traffic," you thought. "Maybe work ran late, but he’ll definitely come." However, as the hours dragged on, disappointment began to set in. You were hungry but kept waiting for Eddie. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold out. Finally, letting go of your dream of sitting down and sharing the meal with him, you reached for the food on the table. The first bite felt like a lump stuck in your throat; this was a meal you were eating alone. The candles in the center of the table were still burning, but instead of a romantic ambiance, the flickering light filled the room with a melancholy loneliness.

When the meal was over, your hand reached for the wine bottle. "I’ll have a glass or two; it’ll help me relax," you thought. With the first sip, memories of clinking glasses with Eddie flashed before your eyes. Glass after glass, the wine bottle on the table was soon halfway empty.

The makeup on your face started to feel like a burden weighing on you. You hurried to the mirror and wiped it off. Staring at your bare face in the mirror, you noticed the disappointment etched into your eyes. The hair you had styled so carefully just hours ago was now disheveled, and your spirit was completely drained.

Now, you sat alone at the head of the table. Your eyes grew heavy with fatigue, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to give up waiting. "Maybe the door will open any moment now," you thought. Resting your head on the table, everything began to blur like a dream under the dim, flickering candlelight. The wine’s slight haze made your eyelids grow heavier.

At that moment, the lock on the door turned. Eddie stepped inside with his key, noticing the smell of wine that filled the room and the candles nearly burned out. As he took a step into the room, he saw the remains of the meal on the table, the wine bottle nearly empty, and you, with your head resting on the table, dozing off. His eyes scanned the details on the table in surprise: the elegant arrangement, the rose petals, the half-melted candles, and you sitting there in silence. Eddie’s expression changed rapidly—surprise, guilt, and a hint of panic flickered across his face.

He stepped quietly, trying not to disturb you, and approached you cautiously. "Sweetheart…?" he called softly, but as he saw your eyes fluttering open, he crouched down beside your chair. "What happened here? Are you… are you okay?" he asked, looking at you with concern.

You brought your hands to your face and groaned lightly, still groggy from sleep. For a brief moment, Eddie’s puzzled expression mingled with your own. But as the depth of your sadness and disappointment resurfaced in your mind, you let out a deep, sorrowful breath. "Why were you so late?" you murmured, your voice slightly cracked, tinged with a trace of reproach.

Eddie’s face grew more serious. "I’m sorry… work ran late, and I lost track of time," he explained, raising his hands in helplessness. "But… what’s all this? The table? The candles? What’s it for?"

Seeing how unaware he was only amplified the depth of your disappointment. You fixed your eyes on him, but for a while, no words came out. Eddie could sense that there was a storm brewing beneath your silence. "What’s wrong? Please, tell me," he said, more insistently this time, but still in a gentle tone.

Finally, you took a deep breath and spoke the truth. "Today was our anniversary, Eddie," you said, the words feeling as if they were stuck in your throat. "And you forgot." Your voice was calm, but the hurt it carried was enough to devastate Eddie. His eyes widened, his hands trembled for a moment, and deep regret etched itself onto his face.

“Oh… no,” he whispered, rubbing his forehead with one hand. When he raised his eyes from the table back to you, it seemed as though he finally understood all your preparations, your effort, and ultimately, your broken heart.

"Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I forgot… no, how could I forget something like this?" he muttered, his voice cracking. But you turned your head away, avoiding his gaze.

Eddie stood before you, his face filled with remorse. Meanwhile, you avoided his eyes with a look that was both hurt and a little angry. You glanced briefly at the melted candles on the table, the empty wine bottle, and the darkened plates, then turned back to Eddie. As you tried to suppress your disappointment, his guilt-ridden expression only hurt you more.

"How could you forget something like this, Eddie?" you said, your tone now unrestrained in its hurt. "I mean… our anniversary… It was something special. And you..." You had done everything for him, planned the entire evening, but he… he had forgotten. This reality made you feel worthless.

Eddie took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair as if trying to straighten his thoughts. "I know, you’re right. But work has been so busy, and I lost track of time. I could have called, yes. But—" he began, but you raised a hand to stop him.

"You lost track of time?" you snapped, your brows furrowed. "I planned the entire day, hour by hour. I set up the table, cooked the food, played your favorite playlist. But what did you do? You just showed up late. You didn’t even call to let me know." Tears began to well up in your eyes, but you didn’t want to appear weak in front of Eddie. So, you quickly wiped them away and took a deep breath.

Eddie spread his hands, his voice filled with regret but also tinged with helplessness. "Sweetheart, I didn’t realize how important this was. If I had known—"

"If you had known?" you interjected, your voice rising. Eddie, with his usual calm demeanor, tried to absorb your anger, but that only made you more furious. "Eddie, this is our anniversary! How many times did we talk about it? How many times did you say, ‘Let’s go all out this year’? And what happened?" By the time you finished your sentence, you were nearly out of breath.

Eddie lowered his head, his gaze falling to the floor. It was a gesture he always made when he felt guilty. But instead of calming you, it only fueled your frustration. "Yes, I forgot," he finally said, his tone quiet and subdued. "And it’s entirely my fault. But… please, try to understand. Work… my mind has been all over the place. There’s just been so much going on..."

"There’s always an excuse, isn’t there?" you said, getting up abruptly and pacing around the table. Eddie flinched slightly at your movement. "Eddie, just one day, just a few hours—was it so hard for me to be your top priority? Was it so impossible to set your work aside and put me first?"

Eddie’s eyes softened as he heard the slight tremor in your voice, but you were too angry to notice just yet. "I… I let you down, I know. But I don’t want to make you feel unimportant. Because to me, you’re… everything," he said. However, his words weren’t enough to soothe you in that moment.

"Yes, Eddie, and the person you call your 'everything' was left alone on an anniversary," you retorted. "How ironic, isn’t it?" Your eyes filled with tears again, but this time, you chose to stay silent, not wanting to say anything you might regret. You sat back down and moved away from Eddie as he tried to reach for you.

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded slightly. "Look, you’re right. You’re completely right. But please, give me a chance. I’ll make it up to you tonight. Just hear me out."

Eddie stepped closer. "I’ll do whatever it takes. I can’t stand seeing you this upset," he said, placing his hands gently near yours.

In that moment, beneath your hurt, you still felt the love you had for Eddie. But you weren’t ready to show it to him just yet. "Let’s see what you’ll do, Eddie Munson," you murmured. "It’s going to take a real miracle to make up for tonight."

Eddie tried to smile, but the guilt was still evident on his face. "I’ll make that miracle happen," he said with determination.

He paused for a moment, and a familiar mischievous smile appeared on his face. As you raised an eyebrow and looked at him skeptically, Eddie had already started heading toward the kitchen.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" you asked, following after him. But he was already in the middle of the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets and opening and closing the fridge. When you saw a plate of chocolate, some flour, and milk on the counter, your eyebrows arched even higher.

"I’m going to make something for you with my own hands. How about some chocolate pancakes?" he said, a hopeful expression in his eyes. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "Chocolate pancakes at midnight? Eddie, seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring your smile back," he said as he started organizing the kitchen like a professional chef. You watched him, trying to keep the serious expression on your face, but Eddie’s clumsiness was mildly amusing. When a bit of flour ended up in his hair, you struggled to suppress a small smile.

As Eddie mixed the ingredients, your playlist continued playing in the background. When one of your favorite songs came on, Eddie stopped stirring and turned to you. "Okay, wait, isn’t this our song?" he said excitedly, extending a hand toward you.

"What are you doing, Eddie?" you asked, trying to maintain your stern expression.

"There’s a way to make this better," he said, taking your hand. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, my lady? Let’s make the rest of this night a little brighter." "Eddie, weren’t you making pancakes?" you asked, but he had already pulled you into the middle of the kitchen. As the song continued to play, Eddie’s warm hands found their way around your waist. "A quick break, then the pancakes will be ready," he whispered, spinning you gently.

At first, you hesitated, but you couldn’t resist the affectionate look on Eddie’s face. Even the creaking sound of the old wooden floor beneath your feet as you moved to the rhythm somehow became endearing. "You can’t win me over that easily," you murmured, but the way Eddie held you close softened your heart.

As the final notes of the song played, Eddie rested his forehead against yours. In his eyes, you saw a mix of regret and love. "I’ll do better for you. I promise," he said softly.

In that moment, you felt that Eddie was truly trying, that he genuinely wanted to make things right. The anger within you started to melt away, though you weren’t ready to forgive him just yet. "If the pancakes are good, maybe I’ll consider it," you said with a small smile. Eddie immediately dashed back to the kitchen, grabbing the mixing bowl.

Five minutes later, Eddie returned to the table with a plate in hand. The pancakes weren’t exactly masterpieces—they were a bit uneven and slightly overcooked—but the chocolate sauce he had drizzled on top made them look sweet enough. As you sat down, you took the fork he offered you.

"This is the best I can do for now, but next time, I’ll whip up something worthy of a pastry chef. Promise," he said, watching intently as you took your first bite. Eddie’s eyes stayed on you, his expression a mix of nervousness and hope.

"They’re not bad," you said, taking another bite. Eddie exhaled deeply and burst out laughing. "Not bad? That’s the highest compliment I’ve ever received!"

As you chuckled lightly, Eddie walked around the table to sit beside you. "Seeing you smile like this… it’s worth the world to me," he said, taking a bite of his own pancake.

The night began to feel normal again. When Eddie offered his hand, you hesitated at first but then took it with a faint smile. "Eddie, you really are the most stubborn and sweetest man in the world, you know that, don’t you?" you said. Eddie winked and pulled you back toward the living room.

Another song started playing from the playlist in the background—this one from the first night you two had danced together. Eddie gave you his signature mischievous look and gently pulled you closer.

"This song," he whispered, "reminds me of you. Every time I hear it, I think of that first night on the dance floor. You, in that red dress… and me, with too much hairspray and maybe a little drunk…"

You chuckled softly at his words. “Don’t be so hard on yourself; you were amazing that night,” you said. Eddie spun you gently and pulled you back into his arms, his eyes locked on yours.

“Every night is amazing if it ends with you,” he added.

As you danced, Eddie’s hands moved from your waist to your back, drawing you closer to him. The intimacy of the moment slowly erased the tension left by your earlier argument. Near the end of the song, Eddie twirled you one last time but, instead of ending the dance, he did something unexpected: he took your hands and started leading you toward the front door.

“Eddie, where are we going?” you asked, your voice laced with both surprise and curiosity.

“Surprise,” was all he said, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. Before you could press him for more answers, he grabbed your coat and handed it to you, grabbing his own jacket before opening the door.

The cold night air brushed against your face, making you instinctively move closer to Eddie for warmth. “Seriously, Eddie, where are we going at midnight?” you asked again. He just smiled, guiding you toward his van.

Soon, you were driving down a quiet road leading out of Hawkins. Eddie kept glancing at you with a playful smile, his hand occasionally tapping the steering wheel in time with the music. He’d restarted the playlist, making sure one of your favorite songs was playing to fill the silence.

Finally, he stopped the van near a small hillside. From there, the lights of Hawkins twinkled faintly in the distance like scattered stars. Eddie hopped out of the van, pulling a blanket from the back. Then, coming around to your side, he opened your door and held out his hand.

“This place…” you began, but Eddie interrupted immediately.

“Just wait, okay? Everything’s almost ready.” He spread the blanket on the ground and guided you to sit on it before returning to the van to grab a thermos and some snacks. Sitting down beside you, he handed you the thermos and gestured toward the view of the town below.

“So, this might not be a grand anniversary gift,” he said, a touch of nervousness in his voice. “But this place is special to me because, no matter how much I want to get out of this town, there’s always one thing keeping me here. You. And I might have forgotten about tonight, but I could never forget you.”

His words made your eyes glisten with unshed tears. As always, Eddie’s sweet and heartfelt way of expressing himself struck a chord deep within you.

“And also,” he continued, pulling a small box from his back pocket, “I thought this might help make up for it. It’s small, but it’s meaningful. I actually got it a while ago…”

When he opened the box, inside was a necklace that was unmistakably Eddie’s style. The chain was delicate but stylish, with a small guitar charm hanging from it.

“This represents us,” Eddie said as he carefully fastened the necklace around your neck. “Every note is you and me.”

Your eyes shifted from the necklace to Eddie. “You’re really going all out to make up for this, aren’t you?” you said with a smile.

Eddie nodded and whispered, “Because you’re worth it.” Under the lights of Hawkins, you stood beside Eddie, and the argument had melted into a warm harmony. “I think I can forgive you,” you finally said, resting your head on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie pulled you into a tight hug and chuckled softly. “I knew it.” The night ended under the stars, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket and the peace Eddie brought to your heart.

taglist: @t-folklore13 @nicholaschavezslut69 @multyfangirl

[angelsfat3]

ⓘㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄. ⠀⠀( 她。)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. 𝖡𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌. She forms your perfect eclipse.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Angst, fluff, au, drama, wlw.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Death wishes (brief), mention of cheating, crying, comparison with someone.

“You know... I think this time it’s different,” Karina said suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled as you both worked on the project.

You were sitting on the school bleachers, surrounded by scattered papers and open books.

The soft orange glow of the late afternoon sun painted the sky, but nothing in that serene moment could prepare you for what you’d just heard. Karina spoke with that spark in her eyes that made everything about her seem more radiant, and all you could do was look at her, trying to keep your expression from betraying what you felt.

“Different? With who?” you asked, striving to keep your tone casual as your fingers fidgeted nervously with a pen.

You knew the answer, but you didn't want her to confirm it. You weren't ready.

“With Anthony,” she replied, almost as if she couldn’t contain her excitement. “I don’t know.. there’s.. there’s something about him… He’s not like the others. He makes me feel special.”

That name hit you like a punch to the chest. Anthony.

The guy everyone knew, the one who never seemed to take anything seriously, especially not relationships.

You felt your lips moving before you could stop them.

“Anthony? The same Anthony who…?” you began, but Karina interrupted with a wide smile, as if the question didn’t matter.

“Yes, I know what everyone thinks of him, but I think it’s different with me. He listens to me, makes me laugh, and… I don’t know, I feel like this could be something real.”

Her voice was a melody of happiness, and for a moment, you looked at her, wishing that smile was because of you.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned her attention back to the project, as if she hadn’t just sent your world spiraling into confusion and heartache.

“Well if that thi..-he, if he makes you happy... Then so am I.” you finally said, forcing your voice to sound steady, even as something inside you shattered with each word.

Karina gave you a warm smile before continuing to talk about Anthony—the things he did for her, the promises he’d made. You nodded, feigning interest, while the weight of unrequited love settled more heavily in your chest.

As much as you tried to focus on the project, all you could hear were her words, each one carving deeper into the part of your heart that had always belonged to her.

Since you were fifteen, Karina had been your everything. Friend, confidant, the safe haven you always turned to when the world became too loud.

Being by her side was effortless, as if she'd been born to fit perfectly with you. The shared laughter in school hallways, the movie nights that turned into hours-long conversations until dawn, and those moments when silence spoke louder than words...

Everything with Karina felt natural, like breathing.

But time has a cruel way of bringing clarity, even when you'd rather stay blind. Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, you began to see her differently.

It wasn't just her laughter that felt like home anymore; it was the way her lips curved when she smiled, how her hair fell over her shoulders, and that spark in her eyes that made the rest of the world disappear.

You fell in love. And it hurt.

It hurt because every hug from her felt too brief, because every time she held your hand, it was a reminder that you'd never hold it the way you wanted to.

It hurt because she shared her secrets and dreams with you, and you sat there, smiling and listening, while a longing so deep swelled in your chest that it became unbearable.

There were nights when you closed your eyes and let yourself imagine a world where she looked at you the way you looked at her. A world where your laughter intertwined with kisses, where her hands sought yours not out of habit but out of need.

But then you'd wake up, and reality would strike with a devastating coldness.

And then came the cruelest blow of all. The day you found out before she made it obvious.

It wasn't Karina who told you actually, but a mutual friend, mentioning his name so casually it left you frozen: Anthony.

You didn't need an explanation; everyone knew who he was. The guy with the easy smile, the sweet words, and a reputation that made any relationship with him feel like a countdown to disaster.

That afternoon, when Karina spoke about him with a smile so wide it seemed to light up the entire room, you felt something inside you break.

You tried to smile, to pretend you were happy for her, but the ache in your chest was unbearable. Every word she said about him was like a small wound, a confirmation that what you felt for her would never have a place in her life.

The nights that followed were a whirlwind of emotions. Sadness, jealousy, anger.

Why him?

Why someone who couldn't possibly see Karina the way you did? You knew how to care for her, how to love her, how to make her happy.

But she had chosen someone who, in your eyes, didn't deserve her.

And yet, you couldn't hate her.

Every time you saw her, the love remained, tangled with the pain. That bitter mixture consumed you, but you didn't walk away. Because the only thing worse than watching her be with someone else was imagining a world where you couldn't see her at all.

So, you stayed, her friend, enduring her confessions about that guy, the little details of their relationship that quietly tore you apart.

You stayed, trapped between love and sorrow, between hope and resignation, while Karina remained the center of your universe, blissfully unaware that you had made her that way.

Little by little, that feeling of emptiness took hold of you.

Seeing Karina with Anthony every day made you feel like a shadow, like you were nothing more than a spectator in the life of someone you once thought would be yours alone.

Every time you saw her smile with him, every laugh they shared, it was like a piece of your heart slowly breaking.

You told yourself it was normal, that it was just a phase, that your love for her was something you had to let go of, but as the days passed, the words you repeated no longer held the same weight.

Karina was more radiant than ever, her face glowing with the shine of something new, something that wasn't you. There was something in the way Anthony looked at her, something that overflowed inside you, and all you could do was stay there, watching from a distance, feeling the pain you never managed to express.

One day, while they were walking down the hall, you stayed behind, feeling the anguish choke you as you watched Karina laugh while Anthony held her hand.

That hand you once wished was yours. That connection they shared made you wonder if what you had felt had ever been more than just an illusion.

"I love you so much, beautiful," Anthony told her with a smile that made it clear how much he adored her.

Karina, with that smile of hers, the same smile she had shared with you countless times, responded with the same warmth. "I love you too, Anthony. You're amazing."

Her words cut deep. Very deep.

You felt so small, so invisible, as if everything you had been for Karina was never enough. Sometimes you wondered if maybe, in some corner of her heart, Karina saw you the same way, as the person who had always been there, waiting, but never to be anything more than a friend.

The truth was, at that moment, doubt settled in you.

Did you really think there was something more between you? Had you deceived yourself for so long? Because seeing Karina so happy, so in love with him, told you that there was nothing you could do, nothing you could be, that would make her look at you the way she looked at him.

The days grew longer, each conversation you had with her felt heavier.

Karina talked about Anthony, about their plans, about the little things they shared, and you smiled, but inside it just hurt more and more. Every time you saw her so happy with him, you felt like you were losing something you never had.

You sat there staring at the clock, waiting for Karina's call, but it never came. Instead, there was a message from her saying, "I'm going out with Anthony today, can't talk, but I'll see you later!!! ♡"

That was it.

The words that had always made you feel special had faded, and in their place, there was something you couldn't ignore.

You couldn't be the one by her side. You'd never be that person. And though you tried to smile and pretend everything was fine, inside, something broke every time you thought about how happy she was with him.

A deep emptiness took over you, as if all the love you had given her was a breath that vanished into the air, leaving behind only the echo of something that never came to be.

Maybe you would never understand why she couldn't see you the way you saw her, but with every

moment that passed, you were certain that there was something in you that would never be enough for Karina to love you the way you loved her.

And even though you tried to convince yourself it didn't matter, that she deserved to be happy, deep down you knew that, even if only for a moment, you wished you could be the person she looked at with that smile, the one she now gave to Anthony.

But damn, the tears on your pillow weren't lying, this was killing you, she was killing you, your love, her smile. The way you knew you'd never be him, that you could never give her everything.

The days seemed to pass in slow motion. Every time you crossed paths with Karina and Anthony, it felt like the air grew thicker, heavier.

Communication was becoming more and more empty, you stopped seeing each other daily, even the places in the classroom changed, now you were behind her.

And Anthony? Next to her.

The way they looked at each other, how their hands intertwined with such ease that it tore you apart, made you wonder if you'd ever had a chance. Because, if you really thought about it, maybe there never was one. Not even when it was just you and her.

And yet, deep down, you clung to the tiny spark of hope that remained inside you, the one that still made you dream that maybe, one day, she would see in you what you saw in her.

But that hope was starting to crumble, slowly, like a sandcastle being washed away by the waves.

One afternoon, as you left class, you found Karina sitting on her usual bench in the park, her head resting in her hands, her eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't quite read.

For a moment, you thought maybe today would be different, that you could break the silence that had settled between you, talk about what you felt, take the risk at last.

But then, before you could approach, you heard her laugh. That laugh you used to share, the one that always made you feel like the world paused just for the two of you. But this time, it wasn't you making her laugh. It was Anthony.

He approached her with that arrogant smile he always wore, and kissed her on the cheek, such a simple, natural gesture, but one that made your heart break a little more. Karina looked at him, her gaze so full of affection, of something you had never been able to reach in her life.

And then you just stood there, frozen, watching from afar. You couldn't move, couldn't stop yourself from feeling everything you had kept quiet, everything you had hidden deep inside, spilling out uncontrollably.

Karina, upon seeing you, looked up as if she had been waiting for you all along.

"Hey! Have you been standing there the whole time?" she asked, with that innocent smile.

You smiled back, but couldn't help that your voice sounded a little lower than usual. "Yeah, just... thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Her tone was curious, without malice, as if nothing were different. But to you, everything happening around her was changing at a speed you couldn't stop.

You stayed silent for a moment, fighting against the words that piled up in your throat, the words you could never say.

Because if you did, everything would break even more. And even though you knew that, the sadness burned inside your chest.

"Nothing," you finally answered, trying to maintain your composure, though you felt something inside you crack every time you thought about what could never be. "Just a few things about my project."

She nodded, completely unaware of what you truly felt, and continued talking about her plans with Anthony.

You, on the other hand, stayed there, trapped in that moment, feeling how the love you had saved for her faded in the face of the reality of her happiness with someone else.

Every time you saw her smile, that smile she shared with him, you felt smaller. More insignificant. Like everything you had been, everything you had wanted to give her, wasn't enough.

And then you realized something that had been eluding you all this time. Karina would never look at you the way you looked at her.

The love you felt wasn't anything more than an unattainable dream, an illusion of what could have been if things had been different. But they weren't. And while she carried on with her life with Anthony, you stayed in the shadows, just another friend.

That day, when you said goodbye to Karina, your smile was as fake as ever, but inside, you felt broken.

You knew you would never be the one by her side in those moments of happiness anymore. And though you tried to convince yourself that it was best to let her go, the pain lingered. Because, in the end, all you wanted was to be the one she looked at that way, with that love that seemed reserved for Anthony.

And you knew that, no matter how much you wished for it, it would never be you.

And by the time you realized...

You had lost all hope.

You had reached a point where you accepted that you would never be more than just her friend, that you would never be the chosen one, that your feelings for Karina would only be a silent burden you would carry forever.

That day, the pain embraced you so tightly that the fake smiles you had held for so long completely crumbled. There was nothing left but an empty sensation deep in your chest.

You were in your room, lying on the bed, trying to calm the mind that screamed that everything was lost.

But then, suddenly, you heard a knock on the door.

You were so immersed in your thoughts that you didn't expect it. When you opened the door, the sight of Karina froze your body.

She was there, standing in front of you, her face wet with tears, her expression of anguish so deep it almost hurt more than anything you had ever felt before.

Before you could say anything, she wrapped her arms around you, holding you with a desperation that broke your soul.

You instinctively embraced her, though the pain in your heart was so overwhelming that it was hard to breathe.

But what really consumed you was seeing Karina broken, so far from the perfect image you had always seen in her. She sobbed, her trembling body against yours, and you, though you held her tightly, felt a mix of rage and despair you couldn't explain.

"He... he told me he loved me, that nothing would change," she continued, sobbing. "And now... he did this to me."

"What... what happened?" you asked, your voice trembling as you held on to her tightly, as if the weight of her pain was something you could ease, something you could fix.

Karina sobbed, trying to speak, but the words came out halting, almost drowned by her tears.

"Anthony... was... with another girl." The way she said it, how broken she sounded, made something twist in your stomach. "He was kissing her. We were supposed to go to the mall to see a movie, and when I arrived, I saw him... with her. He saw me, and... he didn’t care. He just looked at me and left with her. I... I don’t know what to do. I... I feel so stupid."

Karina’s face in your arms made you want to break something, destroy everything around her, but at the same time, her suffering was a direct stab to your chest.

Because yeah, you felt anger, you felt that Anthony deserved the worst for doing this to her, but there was also a part of you that wanted to see Karina suffer for giving herself to someone like him, for leaving you behind like that. The contradiction ate at you from the inside.

The world faded for a moment. All you could hear was the rapid beating of your heart and the muffled sound of her tears.

"I’m so sorry," you said, your words heavy with pain and frustration. "I’m so sorry, Karina... you don’t deserve this."

The hatred for Anthony was a flame that spread quickly inside you.

For a moment, you imagined yourself doing something you never thought you were capable of.

You wanted to see him suffer, you wanted him to pay for every tear Karina had shed. You wanted to tear him apart with words, gestures, anything you could. But at the same time, something inside of you was holding you back because you knew what really mattered was Karina, her pain.

She clung to you tighter, as if it was the only way to stay afloat in that sea of confusion. "I don’t know what to do," she whispered, her voice broken. "I thought... I thought Anthony was different, he promised... That he wouldn’t do this to me. And now... I don’t know if I..."

You sat with her on the bed, still holding her tightly, listening as her sobs became softer but didn’t disappear.

Her face, so messy and tear-streaked, made you wish time would stop. Because while all of this was happening, you felt closer to her than ever before. But the pain remained, the uncertainty remained. In that moment, even though Karina was broken and vulnerable, you felt broken too.

"I’m so sorry, dear.." you whispered, holding her even tighter, as if you could stop her suffering. "I’m so fucking sorry for not being there for you.."

She, with her face against your shoulder, nodded, her breathing ragged. "I don’t know what to do... I don’t know how to go on." she sighed. “It's like... in such a short time he made me feel so many things..”

It was hard to know what to do, how to comfort her, how to make her stop feeling that devastation.

You knew what you wanted to do, what you desired with every fiber of your being, but you didn’t know if you should.

You didn’t know if you should release all the anger, all the frustration inside you, or if you should keep being the friend who had always been there for her.

As the minutes passed, only a sense of stillness remained in the room.

The tension in the air was palpable, as if both of your emotions were on the verge of exploding, but for a moment, everything calmed down.

Karina, exhausted, lifted her head, looking you in the eyes with a mix of pain and vulnerability. And there, in that gaze, you could see something else, something that, though painful, spoke more than any word.

She trusted you.

But despite all the pain, despite the betrayal, you knew that the feeling of being next to her, of having her close again, even in her worst moment, was the only thing that truly made you feel whole.

Karina continued crying, her eyes red as if they had been flooded with tears that could no longer fall.

Her cheeks were wet, but most of the tears had already evaporated, leaving behind an expression of exhaustion, someone who didn’t know how much more she could endure.

Her breathing was still irregular, broken, and she couldn’t stop inhaling her own sniffles, as if the pain was so great she couldn’t even hold it back.

With her head fallen to your chest, she slowly pulled away just enough to look at your face, her eyes resembling two broken mirrors, reflecting the torment she carried inside.

In a movement so soft, so subtle, that you almost didn’t notice, Karina took your hand with hers, as if she needed to be closer, as if she feared that if you pulled away, she’d lose the last connection she had left.

She stayed like that for a few seconds, her gaze fixed on your eyes, but then, with a low, trembling voice, she asked, as if unsure that what she felt was real.

"You... won't leave me, right?"

The question hit your chest like a blast of icy wind.

The fear in her voice tore at you from the inside. It was a fear you had never heard before, a fear that, if it weren’t for the situation she was in, would have seemed inhuman. But there she was, the girl who had always been strong, always so sure of herself, now vulnerable, completely lost.

A knot formed in your throat, but you shook your head immediately. You couldn't bear the thought of seeing her even more broken.

It couldn’t be any other way. No matter what happened, you would never abandon her. Without thinking, your other hand went to her cheek, and when you touched it, you felt the softness of her skin, still wet with tears. It felt so real, so close… like the whole universe had paused in that moment.

"No, never," you said, your voice firm, almost as if it were a promise sealed in your soul. "Over my burnt corpse, Karina. I won't leave you, never."

It was a promise so strong, so heart-wrenching, that not even you could believe it as you said it, but it was what you felt. It was what you thought with every fiber of your being. You would never leave her. Never.

The air between you two thickened with something so intense it almost hurt. Everything was too close.

Every breath you took, every movement Karina made, felt like an electric shock running through you. You were completely trapped in her pain, her vulnerability, and the moment her eyes looked at you as if searching for something that only you could offer.

Karina didn’t look away, not for a second. She kept facing you, her body slightly leaning toward you, as if the gravity of the situation forced her to get closer.

She couldn’t pull away. She didn’t want to. She was broken, yes, but somehow, it seemed like only you could fix the broken pieces of her.

Slowly, Karina began to speak, her voice cracked but needing to come out.

"It's... it's just... I never thought this would happen to me. I... I thought he really loved me, that... that this would be different," her words choked in her throat, and her breathing remained labored, as if each phrase were too much for her heart to bear.

"He told me so many times that he wasn't like the others, that I was special... But... why did he do this? Why did he make me feel like I was the most important thing to him, if I really wasn't?"

The sadness on her face deepened even further, her expression crumpling in such a way that seeing the pain in her face made you feel like a dagger was piercing your own heart.

Your hand continued to caress her cheek, trying to calm her, while your own thoughts grew darker. The image of Anthony kissing that girl overwhelmed you, but for some reason, hearing Karina's pain through her words made you feel more powerless, as if everything you wanted to do—kill Anthony for what he had done—was insignificant in the face of her suffering.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” she continued, not stopping to look at you, almost as if she were waiting for you to have the answer. “I... I just wanted someone to love me. I thought that... that he would...” she repeated, her head slightly tilting to the side as her tears started to fall again, still unable to stop.

Each word Karina spoke seemed to pull you closer to her, and though the temptation to caress her face, to hold her in your arms and take away that pain, consumed you, you stayed there, facing her, as if the world had frozen in that moment.

The desire to comfort her was uncontrollable, but the tension between you was so palpable that you didn’t even know what to do with your own emotions.

Her sobs continued, but this time, it felt different.

This time, Karina’s pain was cutting through you even deeper. It wasn’t just her suffering that affected you; it was the way she was surrendering to you, without reservation. Every tear that fell from her eyes felt like a sigh of pain, a sigh you felt as your own.

The room fell silent again, a heavy silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Karina, between sobs, she tried to speak again, to let off steam with the air, perhaps.

She kept talking, her hands resting on her knees as she tried to explain everything running through her mind, as though pouring it all out could somehow rip away the pain Anthony had left behind.

"It’s just… it hurts so much, you know? Because I thought this was different… I thought, at least this time, someone would choose me, that someone would actually love me for who I am and not for my status, my body or my money."

She paused, letting out a small, tear-filled laugh as she wiped her cheeks. "But here I am, crying like an idiot over a jerk who isn’t even worth it." she said, letting out a small, uneven laugh as she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweater.

"You know? Out of all this, I think the only good thing is… that you’re here. That I can talk to you. If you weren’t… I don’t know how I’d be handling this."

She laughed again, but this time tears glistened in her eyes. It was a desperate sound, as if she were trying to find relief in a moment where none existed.

"At least you’re not an idiot like Anthony," she added with a faint smile, one that barely concealed the sadness beneath.

You looked at her, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it could echo throughout the room. In that moment, everything blurred. Her voice, her words, even her laughter.

It was as if the universe had narrowed to just her—to her face so close to yours, to the way her eyes still shone despite the tears. It was too much. Everything was too much.

And then it happened.

"Hey, everything okay?" Karina asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

That simple question was the breaking point. Before you could stop yourself, before your brain could process what you were doing, you leaned in and kissed her.

It was a brief kiss, almost desperate, yet filled with everything you had been holding back for so long. Your lips met hers—soft, warm—and for one fleeting moment, the world ceased to exist entirely.

When you opened your eyes, she was still. Her eyes were wide, staring at you in shock. She didn’t push you away, didn’t say anything, but she didn’t kiss you back either. She just sat there, frozen.

Your heart stopped, and you pulled away instantly. You stood up so quickly you nearly tripped over your own feet.

"I’m s-sorry… I-I’m so so-sorry," you began, your voice trembling as you avoided her gaze. "I don’t know what came over me, I… I-I didn’t mean to… I w-wasn’t trying to take advantage of you, Karina, please b-believe me…"

You brought your hands to your face, the heat rising so fast it felt unbearable. Fear clawed at you—fear that she would think the worst of you.

You were so consumed by your apologies, so lost in your own panic, that you didn’t notice when Karina stood and moved closer to you.

“I-I'm sorry, I-I don't know what I was thinking, I-I let myself... I-I was an idiot... I-I really didn't want to..”

You were so consumed by your apologies, so lost in your own panic, that you didn’t notice when Karina stood and moved closer to you.

"Can you stop apologizing already?"

Her voice cut through the chaos in your mind, grounding you.

You looked up at her, still trembling, and saw her smile. It wasn’t mocking, nor was it angry. It was soft—almost… affectionate.

"Okay," Karina said, placing one hand on her hip while taking your hand with the other. "Thanks for confirming I’m irresistible, but you could at least give me a heads-up next time, you know?"

Her tone was half playful, half serious, and it only made your head spin more. But before you could respond, she gently guided you back to the bed.

"Come on, sit down," she said, pulling you by the hand until you were both seated again.

"Now, tell me… was that because you couldn’t stand to see me cry, or because you really wanted to kiss me? Because, honestly, both options are pretty flattering."

Her light tone contrasted with the weight of what had just happened, yet the tension remained—thick, almost tangible.

It lingered between you, like something waiting to unravel. You were trapped between shame, confusion, and something else—something closer to hope. Again.

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⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ Karina is for pretty girls.︐⠀📍

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

˖⠀⠀ ݁⠀©⠀،،⠀If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!!

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

[monster-disaster]

https://www.tumblr.com/monster-disaster/760344475674542080/i-need-a-part-2-of-your-dragon-fic-where-he-fucks?source=share

He's a dragon, I'm sure he can find some kind of potion or spell to shrink down his size for even just a few hours (I need him)

dragon!Diman x human!Reader Good to know: smut

Previous request: [dragon] Diman

-

You sit on the cold, unforgiving ground, your legs crossed awkwardly beneath you as you stare intently at the small jar before you. The liquid inside shimmers faintly in the dim light, and you can’t help but scowl as you blink at it, convinced it looks suspiciously like water.

“Are you sure it’s not just water?” you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the stillness. You don’t even bother to glance at the large dragon a few meters away behind you. You know he is there. His presence fills the cave even when he says and does nothing.

The male huffs in response. “Do you really think someone would dare to scam me?” His voice rumbles like distant thunder.

You shrug, feeling a mixture of uncertainty and defiance. “Well, everyone can be stupid at least once,” you reason.

“Sure they can,” Diman scoffs again.

A moment of silence stretches between you before you break it again. “And what if something goes wrong?” you ask. “I don’t want you to get hurt just because-”

When your sentence trails off and you glance at him over your shoulder, Diman’s large mouth splits into a wolfish grin. His sharp teeth gleam under the candlelight's orange glow. “Just because you want my cock?” The teasing lilt in his voice sends a rush of warmth through you.

You’ve lived with Diman for almost a year now, and in that time, he’s pushed you to the brink of ecstasy more times than you can count. Some days, it’s almost a competition to him to see just how many times you can reach your climax, yet, despite the familiarity of his teasing, you still feel your cheeks heat up at his words.

“Come now,” he purrs. His voice is smooth as silk and dripping with playful seduction. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want it.”

You can’t deny the truth in his words. The longing that has built inside you each day has become maddening. No matter how close you feel to Diman, there’s an unmistakable barrier created by the vast difference in size between you.

“Of course I want it,” you reply steadily despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “I want you, but not at all costs.”

You hear him rising to his feet, the powerful thud of his clawed paws against the ground reverberating through the silence. He moves gracefully, as if the weight of his massive body is a mere afterthought, and settles down beside you with a gentle thump that stirs the earth beneath you. His head lowers, resting next to your body, and you can’t help but admire the contrast between his imposing form and your own.

Diman’s large eyes soften as he gazes at you, a flicker of understanding shining in the depths of his golden irises. He leans into your offered hand, rubbing his nose against your palm, the warmth of his breath sending shivers up your arm. “It’s safe,” he assures you, his voice deep and reassuring. “The worst that can happen is nothing.” There’s a calm certainty in his words that soothes your worries, but still, a part of you hesitates.

“And what if you stay that size? What then?”

His expression shifts to teasing in an instant, that signature glint returning to his eyes. “What? You won’t love me anymore?” He laughs.

You elbow him playfully, though you can’t shake the feeling that he feels it less than you do. “I don’t want you to change. Would you really be happy if you stayed my size?” The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.

Diman’s large mouth opens, and for a moment, it seems he’s ready to respond, but then his voice falters, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features.

“See?” you point out, a small smile playing on your lips. “You would hate it. You like being this scary dragon who can burn down anything.” The words come out more playful than accusatory.

He locks his gaze with you, a knowing look passing between you. “You love that too,” he counters. “And my offer still stands.”

“You won’t burn down my ex-village,” you tell him firmly, your brow furrowing slightly. The thought of it doesn’t stir any deep feelings within you; the village holds no charm or attachment. They had cast you aside, throwing you into the dragon's arms as if your life were a mere game, an expendable pawn in their fears. Even though Diman is the best thing that ever happened to you, the villagers didn’t know that. They had always seen him as a monstrous threat, and now, they likely think you already died at his claws. You are sure they had already forgotten you even existed.

He huffs in mock disappointment, but you can see the spark of mischief in his eyes as he glances back at the small vial still sitting on the ground. The shimmering liquid inside catches the light, glinting like a treasure waiting to be uncovered.

“So?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Do you want me to drink it?”

“You won’t leave me alone until I say yes anyway,” you reply, attempting to suppress the flicker of worry that still lingers in the back of your mind.

“You’re right,” he nods, his golden eyes alight with mischief. Stubborn as ever, and not even trying to hide it.

You sigh, relenting. “Then drink it.”

Diman gives a satisfied rumble, rising to his feet and approaching the small vial on the ground with a careful slowness. He lowers his massive snout until it hovers just above the tiny glass container, his eyes narrowing with annoyance.

Then, after a long pause, he glances up. “Could you… open it?”

The request sounds so awkward, so endearingly out of place, that you can’t help yourself, you lean back, bursting into laughter. “Oh, you beast!” Your voice echoes off the mountain walls.

“Har-har-har,” he grunts, rolling his eyes but staying completely still, clearly waiting for you to help.

Shaking your head with a grin, you finally stand and walk over to the vial. Reaching out, you pop it open. The glass feels cool and smooth beneath your fingers as you twist the tiny cap, releasing a faint, fragrant aroma that drifts up to your nose. It doesn't smell familiar, and it only makes you more worried.

Diman’s eyes remain locked on yours, his gaze intense and unwavering, as you hold out the open vial. For a brief moment, time seems to stand still, the air thick with anticipation, and then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he parts his jaws, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth that glint in the dim light. You carefully reach over the intimidating barrier of fangs, and tilt the vial.

The moment the liquid touches his tongue, the two of you hold your breath, eyes locked on one another as you pull back, watching him intently. You wait, bracing for some shift, some sign of transformation, but the seconds drag on, stretching into a long, tense silence. Diman’s form remains unchanged.

“Do you feel anything?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Nothing,” he replies.

You raise an eyebrow. “How did it taste?”

Diman gives a small shake of his head, his expression unreadable. “Didn’t feel that either,” he mutters, glancing down at the vial with an annoyed huff.

“So… you think they really scammed you?” you ask cautiously, watching his expression closely. Though a part of you feels relieved that nothing bad happened, you can sense Diman’s disappointment like a wave radiating off him. The excitement in his eyes has faded, replaced with a quiet frustration that’s hard to ignore.

“Not necessarily,” he says, shaking his large head slowly, his gaze lingering on the empty vial. “These things… Magic isn’t something you can predict.” His voice is low and thoughtful, as though he’s trying to reason through his own expectations.

More seconds pass, each one dragging with anticipation. Finally, Diman lets out a deep, frustrated huff, the sound echoing off the rough mountain walls. “I’ll still be asking for my gold back,” he mutters, tinged with irritation as he turns, flicking his tail dismissively.

You can’t help it. Your jaw clenches, stifling a laugh as you watch him stalk toward the nest you’ve built together. The sight of a massive dragon sulking over a failed potion is so absurdly endearing that a warm amusement bubbles up in your chest. You know you should feel some disappointment, at least to some extent, but the truth is, your fears had outweighed your hopes all along. A part of you braced for the worst, imagining scenarios where the magic might have gone wrong, and relief floods you. Diman, however, had believed in this wholeheartedly, his hopes stretching far beyond your cautious expectations. As he lies there, huffing quietly to himself, you can feel the lingering frustration radiating from him. For him, the vial had promised something grand, a spark of magic that could have changed everything. Something that could have brought you closer together. And now, that possibility sits hollow between you.

With a sigh, you settle into the nest beside him, pressing yourself close to his hard, scaly skin, feeling the familiar warmth seep through. Blankets and layers of fabric cocoon you, but it’s his presence that truly wraps you in comfort. Reaching out, you let your fingers trail slowly over his scales, each ridge grounding you with its solid, reassuring warmth.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work,” you murmur, resting your hand on his muzzle, feeling his steady breaths rise and fall. “I know how much you wanted it.”

Diman lets out a soft sigh, his eyes drifting shut, the weight of his disappointment evident in the subtle slump of his shoulders. “I suppose… magic can’t fix everything,” he says, a note of reluctant acceptance in his voice.

You scowl, the words prickling at something within you. “We didn’t need fixing,” you correct him firmly, your voice resolute. “We just needed a little help, that’s all.”

His eyes flick open, absorbing the certainty in your tone. “Careful,” he teases, the edge of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you get any angrier, you just might breathe fire.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “Please. Like that wouldn’t turn you on.”

A rumbling laugh escapes him, deep and rich, reverberating through his chest and into you, filling the entire nest with his amusement. “Without question.”

Soon, a comfortable silence settles between you, wrapping around you as gently as Diman’s scales. The dim light casts soft shadows across the nest, and the warmth of his body radiates through the blankets, lulling you into a calm, drowsy state until you both fall asleep.

The morning feels like it comes too soon as you awaken to the sensation of something, or someone, touching you. A large hand grips your hips roughly, and something warm and demanding grinds against your backside from behind, and your instinct kicks in almost immediately. You jolt up, adrenaline flooding your system, a mix of fear and anger igniting within you.

“Who-” you start to threaten, ready to defend yourself, but your words falter as your gaze settles on Diman. The dragon, though still large and dominating, is much smaller than last night.

He looks at you, an excited grin spreading across his muzzle, and those familiar golden eyes sparkle with mischief. “Good morning,” he rumbles. The low growl of his voice reverberates through the air, sending a thrill through you despite the surprise.

You blink in confusion. “What happened to you?” you ask, your heart racing as you process the changes. The potion actually worked.

Diman shifts slightly, his movements graceful even in this smaller form, and he chuckles softly. “Seems like the potion had a bit of an effect after all,” he replies with a playful gleam in his eye. “I suppose it decided to play a trick on me.”

"You are smaller!" you exclaim, still shocked.

Diman huffs with a playful mockery in his tone. “Yeah, every male loves to hear that.”

You can’t help but laugh, nearly throwing yourself at him as you eagerly scan his new form over and over again. “No, really! Look! I can cup your face!” With that, you do just that, cradling his still-large head in your palms, marveling at how you can finally reach him so easily. Though he’s undeniably still big and powerful, the change is strikingly evident.

The dragon lets out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Yes, you can.” His fingers curl gently around your wrists, holding you steady as you settle over his torso, your heart racing with the thrill of exploration. “And you know what else you can?”

“What?” you ask, curiosity piqued by the teasing lilt in his voice.

“You can kiss me too.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you process his words, a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness unfurling in your stomach. Though you’ve shared many intimate moments, the size difference has always kept you from kissing. Now, with Diman smaller and more accessible, it feels like a significant milestone. A first kiss with the male you love. You stare into his warm, golden eyes, seeing a playful invitation and a deep sincerity in his gaze. The moment stretches between you, heavy with anticipation. Everything you feel for him swells, memories of your shared experiences flooding your mind, and you realize how much you’ve longed for this simple, yet profound act.

Bracing yourself on his broad chest, you lean in, closing the distance with a racing heart and burning anticipation. The moment your lips meet his, his arms curl around you, holding you tight as he captures you in a searing kiss that feels both exhilarating and surreal.

It is a little awkward, his snout makes things difficult, creating a strange angle, but you don’t care about anything. As his tongue slips into your mouth, a thrill runs through you, sending shivers down your spine. You respond instinctively, matching his intensity. Your own tongue shyly dances with his as the world around you fades into a blissful haze. Every worry and every lingering doubt dissipates in the wake of this kiss. You grip his scales, feeling the power beneath your fingertips, and you can’t help but smile against his mouth, exhilaration bubbling up inside you. Diman’s hold tightens, his powerful form radiating safety and warmth, and you revel in the delicious contrast between his strength and the tenderness he holds.

Soon, your kiss turns even more heated. The world outside is completely forgotten as you lose yourselves in each other. Diman’s hands move with a surprising gentleness, yet there’s a firm intent behind them as they find your hips, guiding you across the length of his cock that juts out from the sheath of his scales.

You gasp against his mouth, the sensation sending a rush of heat through your body, amplifying the electric tension that fills the air between you. His touch is both exhilarating and overwhelming, the sheer size of him a reminder of the powerful creature he is, even in this smaller form.

The friction between your bodies ignites a primal instinct within you, a desire that has been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long. As he guides you, the reality of the moment washes over you, filling you with a mix of excitement and need.

“Fuck me,” you hum against his mouth, the words spilling out in a breathy whisper. “Fuck me, please,” you plead, desperation creeping into your voice as the heat of the moment grows inside you.

“As you wish,” he replies, his tone low and filled with a teasing promise.

With quick, deliberate movements, he tugs your nightgown off your body, the fabric sliding away to leave you bare and vulnerable atop him. The cool air kisses your skin, contrasting sharply with the warmth of his body beneath you.

Diman’s eyes darken with desire as he takes in your exposed form. His hands roam across your skin, exploring the curves of your body as he takes his time, savoring the moment. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, igniting every nerve ending as you arch against him, hungry for more. Your hips grind down on him in a restless motion, each movement filled with desire, and your lips part with a silent whine when one of his hands cups your breast, the hard pad of his thumb brushing over your nipple with just the right amount of pressure.

“Perfect,” the dragon groans, the sound rumbling deep within his chest as he pulls you closer, just enough so he can take your breast into his mouth. His warm breath sends another wave of tingling pleasure through you, and you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him as he swipes his tongue over the hard bud again and again, sending sparks of electricity shooting through your core. Diman’s mouth is a warm haven, his skilled tongue teasing and exploring in ways that leave you breathless. You can feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the need for him growing with each passing moment.

He responds to your silent plea, his other hand sliding down your body, fingers trailing along your waist before finding their way between your legs. You shiver as he brushes against your most sensitive area. “You’re so responsive,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “I could stay here forever.”

You feel your body respond eagerly to his touch. Diman’s fingers find your most sensitive spot, teasing you with a gentle caress that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. The heat pooling in your belly intensifies as he continues to explore, each movement deliberate and intoxicating.

“Please,” you gasp, the word slipping from your lips as you lose yourself in the sensations. You can’t get enough of him, of the way he touches you, the way he makes you feel utterly desired. Your hips rock against his hand, chasing the pleasure he offers, and you can feel your body tightening, coiling with need.

Diman’s gaze is locked on you, filled with a mixture of hunger and adoration as he watches your reactions. “You’re beautiful like this,” he growls, the timbre of his voice sending another rush of warmth across your heated skin. “So responsive, so ready.”

His fingers begin to work in earnest, sliding through your slickness, exploring your heat with a confidence that sends you spiraling further into bliss. You arch your back, gasping as he finds the perfect rhythm, his touch sending you closer to the edge with every passing second.

“Diman, I-” you start, but the words fade into a soft moan as he applies just the right pressure, his thumb circling your sensitive nub while his fingers plunge deeper into your pussy. You can feel the tension building, a delicious wave of pleasure that threatens to wash over you.

“Let go,” he urges, his voice low and sultry as he leans in to capture your lips again. The taste of him, of warmth and desire, fills your senses, pushing you closer to the precipice.

With every thrust of his fingers and every flick of his tongue, you feel the world around you dissolve, leaving only the two of you caught in this moment.

“Diman, I’m so close,” you breathe against his mouth, your body trembling with the effort of holding back. His eyes gleam with anticipation, and you know he wants to see you come undone for him.

“Then let it happen,” he whispers with a raw need that matches your own. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

With his encouragement, you surrender to the pleasure, letting it wash over you in powerful waves. You cry out, the sound escaping your lips as you feel the release crash over you, your body shaking with the force of it. Diman holds you close, his hands steadying you as you ride the waves of ecstasy, feeling utterly consumed in his protective arms.

The day passes by in a hazy heat, the cave echoing with your moans and the wet sounds of your bodies meeting over and over again. Each moment feels intoxicating, a blur of pleasure that leaves you half-delirious. You lose track of time, lost in the warmth of Diman’s body and the fierce kisses you share.

But soon, a low growl emanates from your stomach. Diman’s keen ears perk up at the noise, and he pauses, his gaze shifting from the heat of the moment to your flushed face. “You need to eat,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Before you can protest, he rises from beneath you, his large frame casting a shadow over your body as he retrieves a sizable plate piled high with fruits and leftover meat from yesterday. The sight is mouthwatering, but your legs feel so shaky from your recent orgasms that you can’t even attempt to stand.

Diman sets the plate down beside you, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “You need your strength, little one,” he murmurs, concern threading through his voice.

As you nibble on the fruit, you feel a mix of satisfaction and frustration. The sweetness of the berries bursts in your mouth, refreshing and filling, but it’s difficult to focus on anything other than the ache of longing still lingering inside you. Even this brief pause to eat seems too long without him inside you, all over you.

There’s a playful glint in his gaze as the dragon watches you, one that makes your heart race in anticipation. “Do I need to remind you how to eat properly?” he teases, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh. “I think I remember how to eat, thank you very much,” you reply, your voice teasing back. But as you finish the last of the fruit, the lingering heat from earlier starts to settle back in, pooling low in your belly once more.

“Good. Now, what do you want next?” he asks, his voice dropping to a low rumble that sends a thrill through you.

You meet his gaze, the air thick with unspoken desire. “I want you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I want you again.”

His smirk widens, revealing sharp teeth that glint in the dim light of the cave. “Then I suppose we should get back to it, shouldn’t we?” he replies, his tone dripping with mischief.

Your heart leaps at the promise in his words, and you eagerly nod, ready to lose yourself once more in the heat of his embrace.

Even though your body has adjusted to his large size, you can still feel every inch of him penetrating your drenched heat as Diman pounds into you restlessly. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure rippling through you, igniting the fire that smolders in your core. Your fingers grip the soft fabrics of the nest beneath you, desperately trying to anchor yourself as you keep your shaking legs spread wide open, moving against him with each powerful thrust.

His grip is bruisingly tight on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he drives into you with a primal intensity that leaves you gasping for breath. The sounds of your bodies meeting, skin against skin, and the wet squelch of your pleasure, echo in the cave, mingling with your moans and his deep growls of satisfaction. It’s a wild symphony of desire that fills the air around you.

You can feel the heat radiating from him, the raw power of his body as he claims you over and over again. The slickness between your legs becomes a glistening mess, a testament of the last several hours. Your juices mix with his cum, dripping down your thighs and smearing across your skin.

With each thrust, the pressure builds within you, a delicious tension that teeters on the edge of release. “Diman,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “I’m so close… Please.”

He responds with a low, rumbling growl that vibrates through your body as he quickens his pace. “Then let go, little one,” he urges. His voice is a sultry whisper against your ear. “I want to feel you come around me.”

The way he says it, filled with longing and authority, sends you spiraling closer to that edge. You can feel your body tightening, the pleasure pooling and building until it feels almost unbearable. You arch your back, pushing against him, urging him deeper, craving the sweet release that hovers just out of reach.

With one final, powerful thrust, Diman hits that perfect spot deep inside you, sending you over the edge. Your body quakes with the force of your climax, a wave of ecstasy crashing through you as you cry out his name. It echoes in the cave.

The dragon growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrusts into you a few more times, riding out your release with you. You can feel him swell inside you, the heat of his body overwhelming as he spills into you, filling you completely. It’s a sensation that makes your heart race and your body sing, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed in the afterglow.

The dragon settles down beside you, both of you weak and breathless, the air heavy with the lingering scent of your shared passion. “There are not enough positions for how much I want you,” he says, low and raspy.

You can’t help but laugh, a light sound that echoes softly in the cave. Turning around to face him, you meet with the warmth of his gaze. The golden hue of his eyes is still filled with need and affection. Your muscles shake slightly from the exertion, and you can feel the delicious sensitivity radiating from your core. Even the lightest rub of your thighs together sends tremors through your body, making you keenly aware of just how much he’s awakened every nerve.

“Careful,” you tease, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “I might take that as an invitation for round-” Your words halt, caught in the air as you lock eyes with him.

Diman shakes his head, amusement sparkling in his golden gaze. “I lost count,” he replies, the corners of his mouth curling up in a sly grin. “But I know I’m not done yet.”

The playful banter hangs between you, thick with a tension that electrifies the space. You can feel your heart racing, anticipation bubbling up inside you. His confidence is intoxicating, and the warmth of his body against yours only heightens your own, never-easing hunger.

“Maybe we should start again from the beginning,” you suggest, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper as you lean in closer. “Explore every position until we can’t move anymore.”

A low growl rumbles in Diman’s chest at your words, sending a thrill of excitement across your spine. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “But you might need to hold on tight. I have a feeling this will be one wild ride.”

You grin, the challenge igniting a spark of mischief in your eyes. “Bring it on,” you reply boldly, pushing against him playfully.

With a quick movement, Diman rolls you onto your back, his weight settling over you, strong and powerful yet careful not to crush you. The playful glint in his eyes mirrors your own excitement, and you can’t help but laugh as he leans down, his snout hovering inches from your face.

“Let’s see just how many ways I can make you feel good again,” he says, thick with promise.

Without saying a word, you arch your back against him, craving his touch once more, and Diman, with a wicked smile, lowers his head. His warm breath fans across your skin as he presses soft kisses along your collarbone. Each gentle caress of his lips sends tingling shivers cascading down your spine, awakening every nerve ending in your body. “I hope you’re ready."

Your heart races in anticipation, and you nod, breathless and eager. “I am.” Your reply is barely louder than a whisper. “I want you, Diman.”

His eyes flare with heat at your words, and he responds with a deep, possessive growl that vibrates through your chest. With newfound urgency, he captures your lips with his. You melt into him, your body arching against his as he explores your mouth with a hungry fervor.

With each kiss, Diman’s hands wander, tracing the curves of your body and igniting flames of desire with every gentle touch. His fingers find your waist, gripping you tightly as he pulls you closer, their strength both grounding and exhilarating. You can feel the heat radiating from him, overwhelming yet comforting, as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a sultry dance that leaves you breathless.

As he pulls away slightly, his gaze locks onto yours, intense and full of promise. “Tell me what you want,” he urges.

You can’t help but let out a soft moan, feeling the delicious heat pooling in your core. “I want to feel you inside me,” you confess, trembling slightly with excitement.

A predatory smile spreads across Diman’s face, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “As you wish.”

With that, he positions himself above you, his powerful frame eclipsing the dim light of the cave. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air as he slowly begins to guide himself to your entrance. Your breath hitches at the sensation, the fullness of him hovering just at the brink, teasing you with every passing second.

“Please,” you urge, the need in your tone is undeniable.

Diman’s gaze darkens with lust as he pushes into you, filling you completely in one smooth motion. You both gasp at the sensation, the exquisite pressure and warmth engulfing you as he stretches you to your limits. It’s overwhelming, exhilarating, and utterly perfect.

“Just like that,” you encourage, your hips instinctively rolling against him, urging him to move deeper. “Don’t hold back.”

He grins with a wicked glint in his eyes as he responds to your plea. With powerful, deliberate thrusts, he begins to move inside you. Each stroke of his cock in your drenched pussy causes a mix of pleasure and pain to throb through your body. You are oversensitive and tired, but the burning knot in your stomach doesn't let you rest. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mingling with your gasps and moans.

Diman’s powerful frame shifts and molds against yours, finding that perfect rhythm that leaves you breathless. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, consumed by the fire of your lust for each other.

“You feel so good,” the dragon growls, his breath hot against your skin as he leans down to capture your lips once more. The kiss is fervent, filled with raw passion and impatience.

“Don’t stop,” you plead. Your voice trembles with desperation as you cling to him, your nails digging into his scales as you move with him, wanting more, craving everything he has to give.

Diman responds with a primal roar, his movements becoming more frantic and more intense as he drives deeper into you. The air between you becomes electric, each thrust bringing you closer to that delicious peak of your orgasm.

“Let go with me,” he commands.

And then, just as you reach another climax, the world explodes around you in a blinding rush of pleasure. You cry out his name, the sound echoing through the cave as waves of ecstasy crash over you, pulling you down into the depths of bliss as Diman follows you, his body shuddering against yours, filling you completely with the heat of his release.

The morning comes, and you aren't sure how. You’re convinced you simply lost your consciousness at some point, overwhelmed by the intensity of the night. As you turn around, the warmth of your shared body heat lingers in the air, but you are met with the familiar sight of Diman in his original form.

He’s large and imposing, his scales shimmering in the soft light filtering through the cave. His tail curls around you possessively, an instinctive gesture that makes your heart flutter. Diman opens his eyes slowly, blinking at you sleepily, a low rumble of contentment emanating from his chest.

“Good morning,” he rumbles, his voice still thick with sleep yet filled with an undertone of affection that sends warmth spreading through you. You can’t help but smile at the sight of him, a mix of fierce power and undeniable gentleness.

"You are back in your form," you tell him quietly, reaching out to caress his snout, your fingers gliding over the smooth, cool scales.

"I am back," he replies, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief as he leans into your touch, savoring your closeness.

Though yesterday was amazing and mind-blowing, and you can still feel the lingering sensation of him between your sore thighs and the warmth of his body enveloping you, you’re just as happy to see him back in his original form as you were to experience his smaller size. “I’m happy to see you,” you confess, your voice filled with sincerity.

Diman’s eyes soften at your words, and he lifts his massive head slightly. “I’m glad you are,” he murmurs, and you can sense the warmth of his emotions radiating from him.

For a while, you both lay in your nest, snuggled close, the world outside forgotten in the comfort of each other’s presence. The rhythm of his breath lulls you into a peaceful state until Diman breaks the silence. "Now, how about burning down your village?"

You blink, taken aback by his sudden shift in tone. "Would you really have the power to leave the mountain?" you ask, curiosity piqued despite the absurdity of the idea.

He hums in amusement, the sound deep and rumbling. "Not even the nest," he admits with a playful smirk curling his lips. "But I can go and get more of that potion if you want."

You shake your head, curling yourself against his massive, warm head, already half-asleep. "No," you sigh, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the comfort of his presence. "Let’s sleep for a whole week."

[ocean-bookss]

❄️ 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 ❄️

Leon Kennedy x Reader

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

Snow falls gently outside my living room window while the warm glow of fairy lights fills the space with a cozy atmosphere. The scent of cinnamon, oranges, and a hint of mulled wine lingers in the air. My friends are scattered across my couch and armchairs, glasses clinking softly as Jill laughs at one of Carlos' jokes.

"Alright, everyone, before you're all too tipsy, let's do the Secret Santa exchange!" Claire raises her voice above the hum of Christmas music. She's curled up with her legs tucked under her, holding her mulled wine tightly.

My heart sinks into my stomach. The Secret Santa exchange. The gift. Leon. My eyes dart to him briefly. He's sitting a little apart from the others, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, nursing a half-full glass of whiskey. The flickering lights cast shadows across his sharp features, and his thoughtful gaze is focused on the drink in his hand. How can someone look so effortlessly good while just sitting there?

A light nudge on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts. Jill grins knowingly at me. "Hey, you're practically shaking. You okay, (Y/n)?"

"Yeah, totally fine," I mumble and take another sip from my drink. It's my third, I think. Or my fourth? Who's counting, anyway?

Carlos raises his voice. "Alright, who's up first?"

One by one, we hand out our gifts. Jill bursts out laughing when she unwraps an absurd reindeer onesie from Carlos, Claire squeals over a personalized pocket knife, and Leon gifts Claire a high-end flashlight that looks like it could survive the apocalypse. The mood is light, and the drinks keep flowing.

"Okay," Claire begins, her eyes landing squarely on me. "Your turn, (Y/n)."

My heart is pounding so loudly, I'm sure the others can hear it. I feel everyone's eyes on me, especially Leon's. He looks relaxed but curious.

"Uh, yeah, so..." I clear my throat and stand up. My hands are trembling slightly as I grab the gift from the table. The boxing gloves are neatly wrapped, the vodka bottle securely placed beside them, and the card is carefully tucked between the two. "This is for you, Leon," I say, holding the package out to him.

His icy blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. He takes the gift from me, his warm fingers brushing mine, and I can only hope I'm not visibly blushing.

"Thank you, (Y/n)." His voice is deep and calm. "Open it!" Jill calls out excitedly, elbowing Claire, who looks equally invested.

Leon sets his glass down and carefully unwraps the package with an ease that makes me even more nervous. When he pulls out the boxing gloves first, his eyebrows raise slightly.

"Boxing gloves? These are... great. My old ones are pretty worn out." He smiles at me, and my heart skips a beat.

"And vodka," he mutters, holding up the bottle. "You really know how to make a guy happy, (Y/n)."

Claire and Jill shoot me conspiratorial glances, and Carlos chuckles behind his glass. "There's also... a card," I stammer, feeling the last bit of courage draining from me. Leon pulls out the card and opens it. My heart stops, and I forget how to breathe entirely. His eyes scan over the words, and then he looks back up at me. His gaze is warm, soft, but also... surprised?

"'If you're up for it, I'd love to take you out to dinner. Just the two of us.'" Leon reads the words aloud softly, then lowers the card.

Silence fills the room, and I'm pretty sure Claire and Jill are practically boring holes into us with their stares.

Leon stands up and takes a step toward me. I'm frozen in place, unable to move an inch.

"Thanks for the gifts, (Y/n)." His smile is gentle, and his eyes hold an expression I can't quite decipher. "I'd really like that."

A massive weight lifts from my chest, and I can't stop the wide smile spreading across my face. "Really? I mean... cool! That's great."

"I'm looking forward to it." He slips the card into his jacket pocket and lifts the vodka bottle slightly. "Maybe we can crack this open on our date."

Jill can't hold it in any longer. "Finally! Oh my God!"

"Hey, hey, don't scare them off now," Carlos says, holding up his hands in mock surrender, but he's grinning widely.

Leon shakes his head slightly, trying to hide a smirk. "Thank you, (Y/n). Really. This is one of the best gifts I've received in a long time."

"I'm... I'm glad you like it," I reply honestly, and this time, I meet his gaze without looking away.

The music continues to play, and the others settle back into their spots. Leon sits back in his armchair, but this time, he glances over at me more often. And every time our eyes meet, I feel a warm flutter in my stomach.

─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─

Later That Night

The others have already made themselves comfortable in my guest rooms, and the apartment has fallen quiet. Only I remain in the kitchen, clearing away the last of the glasses. "You're still up?" Leon's voice makes me jump slightly. He's leaning against the doorframe, hands tucked into the pockets of his gray sweatpants.

"Yeah, I... just wanted to clean up a bit."

He steps closer, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. "Thank you again for the gift. And the invitation."

I smile shyly. "No problem. I thought... it might be a nice idea."

"It was." He smiles softly, and for a moment, it feels like time stops.

We stand there in silence for a moment. Then Leon pushes away from the counter and steps closer to me.

"Merry Christmas, (Y/n)."

"Merry Christmas, Leon."

Before I can even process what's happening, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. His lips are warm and gentle, and I'm pretty sure my heart just stopped beating.

When he pulls back, there's a faint smile on his face. "Good night."

He turns and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me standing there, frozen in place. My hand instinctively rises to my cheek, and I can't stop the wide grin from spreading across my face.

Maybe this Christmas wasn't just another night with friends. Maybe it was the start of something beautiful.

─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─★─ׄ─ׅ─ׄ─

Oneshot Collection on Wattpad !

[kiwriteswords]

Omg based on the gifs you reblogged with our man and his tight shirts, could you write a story (maybe christmas) where Reader keeps buying Hotch shirts that are too tight and hes like why? and has to explain lololol

He's a little bit older...got a bit of a dad bod [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: >1k|| AN: omg YES. YESS. YES. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. The title is a nod to Sabrina Carpenter's Christmas Song! xoxo

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, dad bod Hotch, Hotch x His Tight Button-Ups, Christmas Morning, Christmas activities, Gift Giving, Established Relationship, BAU Reader, mentions of weight changes/body changes, Jack is present, age-gap relationship

Summary: You really...really love Hotch in his tight button-ups, so you choose not to size up this Christmas for his gifts.

Aaron Hotchner woke early on Christmas morning, the subtle glow of winter light filtering through the curtains. The tree in the living room twinkled with lights, the gifts beneath it carefully wrapped. Hotch was always the first to rise, a habit from years of early morning cases. Today, though, it was the excitement that nudged him from sleep. This Christmas was special—not just because of the holiday, but because he was sharing it with you and Jack.

You stirred beside him, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you felt him shift. "Morning," you murmured, your voice thick with sleep but bright with the day's joy.

"Morning," Hotch replied, his voice low. He watched as you stretched, the corners of your eyes crinkling with a smile. "Ready to see what Santa brought?"

You laughed, the sound as warm as the blankets piled around you. "Only if I get coffee first."

Hotch grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed to start the coffee. By the time he returned with two steaming mugs, Jack was already rummaging through the stockings, his excitement palpable.

The morning passed in a flurry of ripped wrapping paper and joyful exclamations. Hotch couldn't help but feel a profound sense of contentment watching you and Jack. You had integrated into their lives seamlessly, bringing a lightness to their home that Hotch hadn't realized was missing.

When Jack finally settled down with his new video games, Hotch found you in the kitchen, tidying up the remnants of the morning’s chaos. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Thank you for the shirts," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "But I think I might need a bigger size these days."

You turned in his arms, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh? And why is that?" you teased.

Hotch chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Well, it seems I've filled out a bit more than I used to." He wasn't ashamed of it—his body had changed, but he felt strong, healthy. And if the way your gaze lingered on him lately was any indication, you didn't seem to mind the changes either.

Your smile widened, and you reached up to trace the collar of his shirt, the fabric taut across his shoulders. "I've noticed," you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. "And I have to say, I really like it. The way your shirts fit now... it’s incredibly attractive."

Aaron Hotchner felt a familiar warmth spread through him, a warmth that had nothing to do with the coffee or the fire crackling in the living room. He was acutely aware of the changes in his body over the years. He wasn't as lean as he had been when Jack was born, or even when you first met him. Getting older, his fitness routine was not quite what it once was; he sometimes worried about how these changes were perceived, especially by someone younger like you.

"Yeah?" he asked, a part of him needing to hear more, to understand how you saw him.

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his jaw. "Yeah. It suits you. It’s…really hot," you confessed, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Hotch laughed, the sound rich and full of genuine happiness. He pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist. "Well, I'm glad you think so," he said, and then, softer, "because there's no one else's opinion I care about more than yours."

You blushed at his words, your eyes shining with affection. "Good," you said simply. Then, with a teasing poke to his chest, you added, "Maybe Santa should bring you some more of those shirts next year."

Hotch pretended to consider it, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Only if Santa agrees to keep making comments on how hot they look on me."

"You have no idea," you laughed, leaning in closer. "Sometimes, at work, it's honestly a little distracting." Your voice dropped to a playful whisper, "There are meetings where I'm definitely more focused on your...shirt situation than the case briefings."

Hotch's eyebrows rose, his lips curving into a smirk at your confession. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone equally teasing.

"Absolutely," you affirmed with a nod. "Especially when you're up there giving a profile, all serious and command-mode with your suit jacket off... It’s a lot to handle," you grinned, poking him again gently.

Hotch's laughter filled the kitchen, deep and heartfelt. He pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist. "Well, I'll have to make sure take the jacket off more often then, just to keep things interesting," he quipped.

"I'd appreciate that," you said, your eyes alight with mischief. "Maybe I'll even start a personal rating system for them. You know, to provide feedback."

"Looking forward to your reviews," Hotch replied, the warmth in his voice reflecting the warmth in his chest. This easy banter, the shared smiles, they made everything feel right.

This Christmas, like all the moments since you'd joined his life, felt complete. Hotch knew there would be challenges ahead, cases to solve, and long nights. But with you by his side, sharing whispers and stolen kisses between cups of coffee and Christmas lights, he felt ready for anything.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

@iyskgd

[rootedinrevisions]

Home for the Holidays

SUMMARY: After years of feeling like an outsider, you finally decide to embrace the Christmas holiday - something you’ve never celebrated - with a little help from your friend, Bucky Barnes. As the two of you decorate a tree, share stories, and create new traditions, the bond between you deepens. Bucky starts to reveal parts of himself that you’ve kept hidden for years. As Christmas Eve draws near, your friendship blossoms into something more, and for the first time, you feel like you’re truly home - right where you belong, with him. James "Bucky" Barnes x Witch Reader.

A/N: I wanted to include a quick note to say that this is only my third or fourth attempt at writing something with Bucky Barnes, so I’ll be the first to admit it might be a little rough around the edges. I’m still finding my footing with his character, but I hope I’ve done him justice. Chronologically, this story takes place sometime after Avengers: Endgame but before the events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. It’s a little slice-of-life moment that focuses on the softer side of Bucky—a side I firmly believe exists beneath all his trauma and guilt. In my opinion, he’s a sweet, protective angel who deserves all the love and happiness in the world (and yes, I will die on this hill). This story was so much fun to write, and I hope it gave you some warm, fuzzy feelings too. I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a comment or send me a message. Thanks for reading, and happy holidays! ❤️

WARNINGS: Mentions of past trauma (Bucky's past as well as some mentions of the reader's past)

WORD COUNT: 9.9k

TAGS: @missmarveledsblog @lonelysoul50 @missbmc94 @multifandomgirl12

This is what I had listed as my tag list for Bucky Barnes. If you would like to be added to the Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

Snow drifted lazily past the frosted windows of the Avengers compound, blanketing the world outside in a soft, silvery glow. The quiet hum of holiday music filtered through the common area, a gentle reminder of the season. Twinkling lights adorned a massive Christmas tree near the far wall, its ornaments carefully curated by the team. The air smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon, a testament to Wanda's insistence that the compound should feel festive, even if not everyone shared her enthusiasm.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over your chest, watching the scene from a distance. Laughter echoed from somewhere down the hall—probably Steve and Sam bickering over how to properly hang a string of lights. You didn’t need to look to know they were failing miserably.

Four years. That’s how long you’d been part of the Avengers. And yet, this time of year always felt... complicated. Christmas wasn’t something you’d ever celebrated growing up. Your coven had been insular, focused on rituals and traditions far removed from anything as commercial or joyous as this. The holidays had always felt foreign, like peering into someone else’s life from the outside.

But this year was different.

You weren’t entirely sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the line, the cold, isolating walls you’d built around yourself had started to thaw. Maybe it was because of the team—their relentless attempts to include you in every mission, every celebration.

Or maybe it was because of him.

Your gaze shifted toward the armchair by the fireplace. Bucky Barnes sat there, his metal hand resting idly on the armrest as he stared into the flames. The warm glow of the fire danced across his features, softening the lines etched into his face. You wondered what he was thinking. Bucky rarely volunteered that kind of information, but over the years, he’d let pieces of himself slip through the cracks. You cherished every one of them.

The two of you had a quiet understanding, an unspoken bond forged in shared silences and late-night conversations. He didn’t ask questions you weren’t ready to answer, and you offered the same courtesy in return. But something about this year—this season—made you want to try.

You stepped into the room, the wooden floor cool beneath your feet. “You look like you’re a million miles away,” you said softly, breaking the stillness.

Bucky glanced up, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just thinking.”

“Good thoughts, I hope.”

He shrugged, gesturing toward the tree with his vibranium hand. “Trying to remember if I ever actually decorated one of these. It’s been... a long time.”

You took a seat on the couch across from him, tucking your legs beneath you. “Maybe it’s time to start again.”

His eyes flickered to yours, holding your gaze for a moment before he looked away, as if considering the idea. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Maybe it is.”

Bucky’s eyes lingered on the tree for a moment longer before he shifted his attention back to you. “What about you?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “Ever done all this before?”

You tilted your head, studying the tree’s glittering ornaments. They reflected the firelight, casting shimmering patterns across the walls. “Not really,” you admitted. “The coven didn’t exactly prioritize Christmas. Too commercial, too... human, I guess.” A wry smile tugged at your lips. “The closest thing we had was a winter solstice ceremony, but it wasn’t exactly festive. Mostly chanting and lighting candles.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between curiosity and amusement. “No tree? No presents? Not even the tiniest bit of tinsel?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Nope. Honestly, I’ve spent the last few Christmases in my room, trying to stay out of the way while the rest of you celebrated.”

His brow furrowed at that, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Why?”

The question caught you off guard, though you supposed it shouldn’t have. Bucky had a knack for asking the things no one else dared to. You hesitated, tracing a finger along the seam of the couch. “I don’t know. Maybe I just felt like I didn’t belong. Watching everyone else—it was like looking at something I could never be a part of.”

Silence settled between you for a moment, broken only by the crackle of the fire. When Bucky finally spoke, his voice was quiet but resolute. “That’s not true, you know. You do belong.”

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes—something earnest, almost vulnerable—that made your chest tighten.

“Well,” he continued, leaning forward slightly, “maybe this year’s the one to change that. Your first real Christmas.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He gestured toward the tree again. “We’ll do it right. You and me. Decorations, presents, the works. If you’ve never celebrated Christmas before, we’re gonna make sure this one’s special.”

The idea warmed you in a way you hadn’t expected, though you tried to hide the flutter of hope rising in your chest. “Bucky, you don’t have to do that—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind. “We both could use something good this time of year, don’t you think?”

You studied him for a moment, the firelight painting golden highlights in his dark hair. There was no hesitation in his expression, no trace of doubt. He was serious.

A small smile crept onto your lips. “Alright,” you said softly. “But only if you let me help.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Deal.”

For the first time in years, the thought of Christmas didn’t fill you with a sense of loneliness. Instead, it felt like the beginning of something new—something warm and unexpected. And as the snow continued to fall outside, you couldn’t help but feel like this might be the Christmas you’d been waiting for all along.

You and Bucky stand up and make your way over to the tree. Sam glances up and smiles when he sees the two of you approaching.

“Ah, you two finally decided to join the fun, huh? Don’t worry, we saved the best job for you two - tinsel duty.”

You blinked. “Tinsel duty?”

“Yup.” He pointed to a box overflowing with shimmering strands of silver and gold. “Just toss it around. Try not to overthink it.”

You glanced at Bucky, who gave you an almost imperceptible shrug before grabbing a handful of tinsel. “Alright. But if this ends up looking like a glitter bomb exploded, it’s on you.”

Sam grinned. “That’s the spirit, Barnes!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you and Bucky began draping the tinsel over the tree, your initial hesitation melting away as the room filled with laughter and banter. Wanda teased Clint about his meticulous star placement. At some point Bruce wandered in with a tray of cookies, offering them to everyone.

It was... nice. Warm, even. For the first time, you felt like you weren’t just watching from the sidelines—you were part of it.

As you looped another strand of tinsel over a branch, Bucky leaned in slightly. “Not so bad, huh?”

You smiled, glancing at him. “Not bad at all.”

After an hour or so, the tree was finished, a sparkling masterpiece of lights, ornaments, and, yes, tinsel. The team stood back to admire their handiwork, and for a moment, you caught yourself thinking that maybe, just maybe, this Christmas thing wasn’t so bad after all.

As the others started to disperse, heading to the kitchen or settling onto the couches, you turned to Bucky. “You know,” you began, your voice quiet but thoughtful, “this was fun. But I think... I’d like to have a tree of my own. Just something small, for my quarters.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Your first Christmas tree, huh?”

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s silly—”

“It’s not silly,” he interrupted, his tone sincere. “It’s your Christmas. And if you want a tree, we’ll get you a tree.”

You looked at him, surprised. “We?”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. I’ll help you pick one out. Tomorrow, if you want. We can make a day of it.”

Your smile widened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something close to excitement bubbling up inside you. “I’d like that,” you said softly.

Bucky’s grin grew, and he gave you a small nod. “It’s a plan, then.”

As the evening wound down and the team slowly trickled out of the common room, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted—something subtle but significant. And as you and Bucky left the room together, the promise of tomorrow lingered in the air, warm and full of possibility.

****

The following day dawned crisp and cold, the snow falling in delicate flurries outside the windows of the compound. You tightened your scarf around your neck as you waited by the door, watching the snow coat the parking lot in a pristine white blanket. When Bucky finally appeared, he was bundled in his usual dark jacket.

“Ready?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied, grinning.

The drive into town was quiet but comfortable, the radio playing soft holiday music as you watched the snowy landscape blur past. Occasionally, Bucky would glance over at you, his gloved hands steady on the steering wheel. There was something peaceful about the moment—a stillness that felt like the calm before something new.

When you arrived at the small Christmas shop nestled in the corner of town, you stepped inside and were immediately enveloped by the scent of pine and cinnamon. The shop was charming, its shelves crowded with twinkling lights, ornaments of every shape and size, and garlands that sparkled like freshly fallen snow.

Bucky stepped up beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets as he surveyed the room. “Alright,” he said, his tone light. “Where do we start?”

You hesitated, scanning the rows of ornaments and decorations. “I don’t even know,” you admitted with a small laugh. “There’s... a lot.”

“Pick whatever catches your eye,” Bucky said, giving you an encouraging nudge. “It’s your tree, after all.”

You smiled at him, warmth blooming in your chest at his easy acceptance. Slowly, you made your way through the shop, stopping every so often to admire something—a tiny reindeer with jingling bells, a delicate snowflake made of glass, a cheerful Santa with rosy cheeks.

Bucky followed close behind, offering the occasional comment or nod of approval. When you paused to inspect a set of miniature ornaments shaped like stars, his voice softened.

“That one’s nice,” he said, reaching for a small wooden sled nearby. “This reminds me of... something from when I was a kid. My ma used to have one like it on our tree.”

You looked at him, the nostalgia in his tone tugging at your heart. “You should get it,” you said gently.

He hesitated, turning the sled over in his hand as if weighing the decision. Finally, he nodded, slipping it into the basket you were holding. “Maybe I will.”

A few minutes later, as you reached for a small silver ornament shaped like a bird, Bucky’s hand brushed against yours. You both froze for a moment, your fingers tangled over the delicate decoration. Then, almost simultaneously, you broke into laughter.

“Guess I’m not the only one who likes shiny things,” you teased, handing the ornament to him.

Bucky smirked, taking it from you but placing it back on the shelf. “Nah, you can have it. It suits you better.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that lingered on your face.

By the time you left the shop, your basket was filled with an assortment of ornaments and decorations, each one a little piece of your first Christmas. Bucky carried the bags to the car, brushing the snow off the windshield before climbing into the driver’s seat.

As he started the car and the heater roared to life, you turned to him, your breath misting in the cold air. “Thanks for this,” you said softly. “For... helping me figure all this out.”

Bucky glanced at you, his blue eyes warm beneath the shadow of his beanie. “Anytime,” he said. “Everyone deserves a good Christmas.”

The car hummed softly as Bucky steered it back toward the compound, the snow outside swirling in lazy spirals under the gray December sky. You rested your hands on the shopping bags at your feet, the ornaments inside clinking gently with each bump in the road.

“Hey, Bucky?” you asked after a moment of quiet, your voice tentative.

“Yeah?” His eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the road.

“What was Christmas like... you know, for you? Back then.”

Bucky’s grip on the steering wheel shifted slightly, his jaw tightening for a moment as if considering the question carefully. He exhaled through his nose, his breath fogging slightly in the cold air. “I don’t remember much,” he admitted, his voice low but steady. “A lot of it’s... blurry. Like looking through a frosted window, you know?”

You nodded, watching him closely. He seemed lost in thought, his gaze distant as if reaching for a memory that hovered just out of reach.

“But,” he continued after a pause, his tone softening, “I do remember one Christmas. I must’ve been... seven or eight. It had snowed like crazy the night before, and my ma was in the kitchen making these cookies—pfeffernüsse, she called them. Little spiced cookies covered in powdered sugar. The whole house smelled like cinnamon and cloves.”

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth tilting upward as the memory came into focus. “My sister and I were running around, trying to peek at the presents under the tree. My ma kept shooing us out of the living room, telling us to let the tree ‘rest’ before Christmas morning.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like the tree needed a nap or something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the image. “That sounds... really nice,” you said quietly.

“It was,” he agreed, his voice tinged with wistfulness. “That was the year my dad made us this little wooden sled. It wasn’t anything fancy, just some planks nailed together, but... man, we thought it was the greatest thing in the world. Spent the whole day outside, taking turns sliding down the hill behind our house.”

You watched him as he spoke, his expression unguarded in a way you didn’t see often. It was like the snow outside, rare and fleeting but beautiful in its clarity.

“Do you still have the sled?” you asked gently.

Bucky shook his head, his smile fading slightly. “No. Most of that stuff’s long gone. Especially since I was…away for so long. But... I don’t know. Sometimes I think about that Christmas and it feels... warm. Like a piece of home, even if it’s just a memory now.”

The car fell quiet again, the soft strains of a holiday song playing faintly on the radio. You looked down at your hands, fiddling with the edge of your scarf.

“I think it’s nice that you remember that,” you said after a moment. “Even if it’s just a piece of it. It’s... kind of comforting, you know?”

Bucky glanced at you again, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It is.”

As the compound came into view, you felt a warmth settle in your chest, like the glow of a fire on a cold night. Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t just be about creating new memories—it would also be about finding pieces of home, even in the unlikeliest of places.

Your quarters were bathed in the soft amber glow of the small lamps you’d lit earlier, the snow outside casting a faint blue tint through the frosted windows. The scent of pine filled the room as Bucky helped you set up the tree you’d picked out earlier. It stood proudly in the corner, a little uneven at the top, but perfect in its imperfections.

“Alright, let’s see if we can make this thing shine,” Bucky said, crouching by the box of lights. He began untangling the strands with practiced patience, while you dug into the bag of ornaments you’d chosen earlier.

You laughed softly as you pulled out the first ornament, a sparkly snowflake. “How is it possible that these lights tangle themselves when no one’s even using them?”

“It’s one of life’s great mysteries,” Bucky replied, shaking his head with mock seriousness. “Right up there with why Steve always insisted on going to battle without a helmet.”

You laughed, handing him the snowflake. “Here, start with this. We’ll figure out the lights after.”

Together, you worked to string the lights around the tree, pausing every now and then to adjust a strand or laugh when one of the bulbs flickered out. By the time the lights were glowing softly against the green branches, you felt a quiet contentment settle over you.

“Not bad,” Bucky said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. He reached for one of the ornaments, the small wooden sled he’d picked out earlier. As he held it in his hand, his expression softened, a hint of nostalgia flickering across his face.

“Do you remember something?” you asked gently, watching him closely.

Bucky nodded, turning the ornament over in his hand. “Yeah... I was just thinking about when I was younger decorating the tree with my mom and my sister. My mom had this old box of ornaments she’d pull out every year. Some of them were cracked, some missing hooks, but she insisted on using every single one. My sister and I would try to sneak the broken ones back into the box, but she always caught us.”

He smiled faintly, his eyes distant. “She’d put on this old record of Bing Crosby, and we’d all sing along while we decorated. I wasn’t much of a singer, but my mom didn’t care. She said Christmas wasn’t about being perfect—it was about being together.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at the warmth in his voice, the way the memory seemed to wrap around him like a blanket. “That sounds... really nice,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm.

Bucky glanced at you, his smile fading slightly. “What about you? Did you ever...?”

You shook your head, lowering your gaze to the ornament in your hand. “No. My life was... different. I never really felt like I belonged anywhere, not with my coven, not with anyone. Holidays were just another day to remind me of that.” You hesitated, then looked back up at him. “But... being here, with the Avengers, with you... I don’t know. For the first time, I feel like I’m part of something. Like I have a family. Like I finally have somewhere I belong.”

The words hung in the air between you, soft and vulnerable. Bucky’s gaze lingered on yours, something unspoken flickering in his blue eyes.

Before either of you could say more, you turned to grab another ornament, your foot catching on the edge of the tree skirt. You stumbled forward, a startled gasp escaping your lips—but before you could fall, Bucky’s arms shot out, catching you effortlessly.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low as he steadied you.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, his strong, steady presence grounding you. For a moment, neither of you moved. The room seemed to shrink, the glow of the Christmas lights casting a soft halo around you both. His hands rested gently on your waist, his touch warm even through the fabric of your sweater.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He didn’t let go right away, his gaze searching yours as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. The air between you felt charged, every breath a little too loud in the quiet room.

But then, just as quickly, he stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. “You okay?” he asked, his voice steady but softer than usual.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, brushing your hands down your sweater as if to smooth away the moment. “Guess I’m not very graceful when it comes to decorating.”

Bucky chuckled, but the sound was softer than usual, almost hesitant. “Good thing you’ve got me to keep you on your feet.”

You smiled, picking up the ornament you’d dropped and hanging it carefully on the tree. As you worked side by side, the moment lingered in your mind, the warmth of his hands on your waist and the way he’d looked at you etched into your thoughts.

****

The days slipped into weeks, the festive atmosphere of the compound becoming more pronounced as Christmas drew closer. You found yourself caught in the whirlwind of preparations alongside the team, but your thoughts often drifted back to that night with Bucky.

You’d replayed those moments over and over again—his quiet laugh as you picked out ornaments together, the way his hands had steadied you when you almost fell, the warmth in his eyes when he’d talked about his family. It was silly, really, how those memories clung to you, but you couldn’t help it. For the first time in a long time, someone had made you feel seen.

But then... nothing.

Bucky had been called away on a mission not long after that night. You’d overheard someone mention something about Siberia, and though you weren’t sure of the details, you knew it must have been important. The days without him had stretched on, each one marked by his absence. You told yourself it was no big deal. He was an Avenger, after all. Missions came first, and it wasn’t like you had any claim to him.

Still, you couldn’t shake the way your chest felt heavier when you passed by his empty quarters or the way you caught yourself glancing at the door to the common room, half-expecting to see him walk through it.

With a sigh, you dropped onto the couch in your room, tucking your feet beneath you as you stared at the softly glowing tree in the corner. The lights twinkled, casting a warm, comforting glow across the room, but tonight they only seemed to remind you of how quiet things had become.

Your fingers toyed with the edge of a blanket as you tried to push the thoughts away. He’d be back soon, you told yourself. And when he was, things would go back to the way they were—comfortable, easy. That’s all it was. Just... comfort.

****

The compound was quieter than usual, the emptiness pressing against you as you moved around the kitchen. Christmas Eve wasn’t supposed to feel this... lonely. You glanced at the clock above the stove. Another hour had ticked by, and there was still no word from the team. They were supposed to be back days ago.

You sighed, brushing your hands down the front of your apron as you tried to push the ache in your chest aside. The menu you’d planned—a simple, homey meal—sat scribbled on a piece of paper beside you. Roast pork loin, roasted vegetables, and sugar cookies. It wasn’t extravagant, but it felt like something you could offer as a small gift to the others.

Even if no one else was around to enjoy it, cooking gave you something to focus on. You’d spent the morning shopping for the ingredients, carefully selecting the best cut of meat and the freshest vegetables. Now, as you peeled carrots and diced potatoes, the steady rhythm of your knife against the cutting board was almost soothing.

Almost.

You paused, your hand lingering on the edge of the counter as your gaze drifted to the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree in the common room, visible through the doorway. It had been weeks since you’d decorated your own tree with Bucky, and you’d replayed that night so many times in your mind. You’d held onto the hope that he’d be back in time to celebrate with you, but as the hours slipped away, it was starting to feel like this Christmas might pass quietly, like all the others before it.

You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t hear the faint creak of the kitchen door opening. The sound drew your attention, and you glanced up, your heart skipping a beat when you saw who was standing there.

Bucky.

He lingered in the doorway, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his dark hair slightly damp from the snow melting on it. His blue eyes softened when they met yours, and for a moment, the tension in your chest eased.

“You’re back,” you said, your voice softer than you’d intended.

“Yeah,” he replied, stepping further into the kitchen and setting his bag down. “Mission took longer than expected.”

You nodded, gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself as a wave of relief washed over you. “I didn’t think anyone would be back in time for Christmas.”

Bucky’s lips quirked into a faint smile as he took in the sight of the half-prepped meal spread out on the counter. “Looks like you’ve been keeping busy.”

You glanced at the cutting board, suddenly self-conscious. “I just... thought it’d be nice to make something for everyone. If they came back.”

He tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he moved closer. “Need a hand?”

“You’ve just got back,” you said, shaking your head. “You should rest—”

“I’d rather be here,” he interrupted gently. His voice was steady, but there was something in his tone, something unspoken, that made your chest tighten.

For a moment, you simply stared at him, caught in the quiet intensity of his gaze. Then you nodded, stepping aside to make room for him at the counter. “Alright. But don’t blame me if you end up peeling all the potatoes.”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm as he shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “Deal.”

As you handed Bucky a few potatoes and pointed him toward the sink, the two of you slipped into a quiet rhythm. Cooking felt easier with someone there to share the work, and you couldn’t help but notice how naturally he fell into step beside you. He peeled the potatoes with steady, practiced movements, while you worked on seasoning the pork loin and tossing the vegetables with olive oil and spices.

It wasn’t exactly what you’d envisioned for your first Christmas dinner, but the ease between you and Bucky made it feel... right.

“You’re pretty good at this,” you said, glancing at him as he rinsed off the peeled potatoes.

He smirked faintly. “Peeling potatoes isn’t exactly rocket science.”

“No, I mean all of this,” you gestured toward the counter, where bowls and ingredients were strewn about in organized chaos. “You’re a lot more... domestic than I expected.”

Bucky chuckled, his gaze softening as he dried his hands on a towel. “Grew up helping my ma in the kitchen. She made sure I knew how to cook a decent meal.”

The image of a young Bucky helping his mother in a warm, bustling kitchen tugged at your heart. You smiled, trying to picture it. “Well, consider me impressed. I was expecting more of a... ‘break things and punch stuff’ skillset from you.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m still pretty good at that, too.”

You laughed softly and handed him a cutting board. “Alright, tough guy. Chop those into chunks while I get the roast ready.”

He followed your instructions without hesitation, his knife slicing through the potatoes with precision. You couldn’t help but watch him for a moment, the way his hands moved deftly, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration. There was something grounding about his presence, something steady and reassuring that made the kitchen feel warmer.

As you worked together, the sound of soft Christmas music from the compound’s speaker system filled the room, mingling with the rhythmic chop of the knife and the clatter of pans. The smell of seasoned pork and fresh herbs began to fill the air, cozy and inviting.

The door to the kitchen creaked open, and Wanda poked her head in, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air. “That smells amazing,” she said, stepping fully inside.

“Dinner’s not ready yet,” you said with a laugh, glancing at her over your shoulder.

“I wasn’t rushing you,” Wanda replied with a grin. Her gaze flicked between you and Bucky, her eyebrows raising slightly, though she didn’t say anything else. “Let me know if you need any help. Otherwise, I’ll just sit here and enjoy the smell.”

She wandered off toward the common room, leaving you and Bucky to exchange a quick glance and a quiet laugh.

Not long after, Clint wandered in, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Whatever’s cooking in here, I want in on it.”

“Noted,” you said, rolling your eyes good-naturedly.

He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, gave you both an approving nod, and left just as quickly as he’d arrived.

“Is this what Christmas is supposed to feel like?” you asked aloud, half to yourself, as you slid the roast into the oven.

Bucky, who had just finished chopping the last potato, glanced at you. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, wiping your hands on a towel. “The smells, the warmth, the people coming and going... it’s nice. Feels... cozy.”

Bucky smiled faintly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned his attention back to the cutting board. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It does.”

As the minutes slipped by, the kitchen grew warmer, the scents of roasted meat and caramelizing vegetables filling the air. You and Bucky worked seamlessly together, trading jokes and small smiles as you moved around the small space. It was easy—easier than you’d ever imagined—and for a moment, you let yourself believe that this could be what home felt like.

The dining area was simple but welcoming, with the table set for six. You’d managed to find a festive red tablecloth in one of the compound’s storage rooms, and Wanda had added a few candles and some greenery she’d somehow conjured up at the last minute. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it felt warm and inviting.

Everyone filed in slowly, drawn by the smell of the meal you and Bucky had prepared. Sam was the first to sit down, followed by Clint, who made a show of sniffing the air and declaring, “This is going to be the best Christmas dinner I’ve ever had that didn’t involve takeout.”

Bruce arrived next, carrying a bottle of wine he’d found in the compound’s pantry. “Figured this could help wash down the meal,” he said with a small smile, setting it on the table.

“Classy touch, Doc,” Sam said, giving Bruce a thumbs-up.

Wanda floated in last, her eyes lighting up as she saw the spread on the table. “This looks amazing,” she said, taking her seat beside Clint.

You stood at the head of the table, looking around at the assembled group. Bucky lingered near your side, his presence steady and reassuring as always. He caught your eye and gave you a small nod, as if to say, You did good.

“Alright, dig in before it gets cold,” you said, gesturing to the food.

There was a brief scramble as everyone reached for plates and serving spoons. Conversation soon flowed effortlessly around the table, voices overlapping in that warm, chaotic way that only happened when people felt comfortable.

“This pork is incredible,” Sam said, pointing his fork at you. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

“Well, you’ve set the bar pretty high,” Clint added, slicing into his roasted vegetables. “Next year, we’re expecting a full five-course meal.”

Bucky chuckled softly beside you, his own plate half-finished already. “Ease up, Barton. You’re lucky she didn’t make you a peanut butter sandwich.”

You nudged Bucky with your elbow, grinning. “I could’ve done that, you know. Would’ve saved a lot of time.”

The table erupted into laughter, and for a moment, you let yourself soak it all in. The warmth, the banter, the feeling of being part of something.

As the conversation drifted to other topics, your eyes found Bucky’s across the table. He was leaning back slightly, his fork idly pushing a roasted carrot around his plate as he listened to Bruce explain some scientific experiment. When he felt your gaze, he glanced over and offered you a small, almost shy smile.

You smiled back, your heart doing a little flip.

“So,” Wanda said suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts, “what’s everyone’s favorite Christmas tradition?”

The question sparked a flurry of answers. Sam talked about how his mom used to make beignets every Christmas morning. Clint shared a story about a Christmas Eve prank war with Natasha that had involved a strategically placed mistletoe and a very grumpy Steve. Even Bruce opened up, reminiscing about reading “The Night Before Christmas” to his nieces and nephews when he could make it home.

When it was Bucky’s turn, he hesitated, his gaze flickering to you before he spoke. “We used to decorate the tree together,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “My mom, my sister, and me. She’d make hot chocolate, and we’d argue over who got to put the star on top.”

The table fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling in.

“That sounds nice,” Wanda said softly, breaking the quiet.

Bucky nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “It was.”

The conversation picked up again, but you found yourself watching Bucky out of the corner of your eye. There was a softness to him tonight, a vulnerability that he didn’t often show. It made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

As the meal wound down, Clint leaned back in his chair with a satisfied groan. “Alright, I’m calling it. Best Christmas dinner ever.”

“Agreed,” Sam said, raising his glass of wine. “To the chef—and her assistant.”

“Assistant?” Bucky scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “I did half the work.”

“Sure you did, buddy,” Sam teased, smirking.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, alright. Thanks for the help, Bucky. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the noise around the table faded. “Anytime,” he said softly.

As the others began to clear their plates and drift off, you couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly what you’d been missing. A family, a place where you belonged—and maybe, just maybe, something more.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft clinking of dishes and the steady rush of water from the sink. You stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, as you rinsed off the last of the dinner plates. Bucky was beside you, dish towel in hand, drying each plate you handed him with quiet efficiency.

“You really don’t have to help,” you said, glancing at him. “You’ve been on a mission for weeks. Go put your feet up, or something.”

Bucky smirked, taking the plate you passed him and wiping it dry. “Nice try, but I’m not leaving you to clean all this up alone.”

“I mean it, Bucky,” you said, though your tone lacked any real conviction. “You’ve done enough.”

“And yet, here I am,” he replied, his voice calm and steady.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Stubborn as ever.”

He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm. “Takes one to know one.”

For a while, the two of you worked in companionable silence. You washed, he dried, and every now and then, your hands brushed as he took something from you. Each touch was fleeting, but it sent little sparks through you nonetheless.

After a few minutes, Bucky broke the silence. “You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I haven’t really done this...celebrated Christmas, I mean, in decades.”

You looked over at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the plate he was drying. “After everything I lost—my family, my friends—it just felt...too painful. Like I didn’t deserve it anymore. Or like celebrating would make it harder to forget what I’d lost.”

Your chest ached at his words, and you reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. “I’m sorry, Bucky.”

He shrugged, but his expression was pensive. “It is what it is. But tonight...” He trailed off, his gaze meeting yours. “Tonight didn’t feel so bad. You’ve got this way of making things feel...lighter.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice. “I—thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “And thank you for helping me. This whole holiday thing is new to me, and...I don’t know. I feel like tonight was the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, one that reached his eyes. “I’m glad,” he said simply.

The moment stretched between you, the air charged with something unspoken. You glanced down, focusing on the water in the sink to keep yourself grounded.

After a moment, you handed him the last dish. “Well,” you said, clearing your throat, “that’s the last of it. We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” he said, drying the plate and setting it on the counter. “We do.”

You turned off the water and wiped your hands on a towel, feeling strangely reluctant for the moment to end. “Thanks again, Bucky,” you said, meeting his gaze. “For everything.”

He nodded, his expression soft. “Anytime.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The kitchen was quiet, the warmth from the evening lingering in the air. It felt like there was something just out of reach, something waiting to be said or done. But neither of you took that step.

“Goodnight,” you said finally, your voice soft.

“Goodnight,” Bucky replied, his voice low and steady.

As you turned to leave the kitchen, you felt his gaze follow you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same pull you did.

You paused just as you reached the doorway, your hand still resting on the frame. A thought struck you, sudden and vivid, and you turned back toward Bucky, your heart skipping a beat.

“Bucky,” you called softly, your voice carrying across the quiet kitchen.

He turned immediately, his blue eyes meeting yours with an almost questioning look. “Yeah?”

You hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling nervous. “I, um... I got you something. For Christmas.”

His brows lifted slightly, surprise flashing across his face. “You got me a present?”

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting with the towel in your hands. “It’s nothing big, just...something I thought you might like. Do you—do you have a minute to come to my room?”

For a moment, Bucky just stared at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, a small smile broke across his face, warm and genuine. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Of course.”

Relief flooded through you, and you smiled back, gesturing for him to follow. Together, the two of you left the kitchen and walked through the quiet hallways of the compound. The soft hum of the lights overhead was the only sound, and the air between you felt charged with anticipation.

When you reached your quarters, you opened the door and stepped inside, glancing back to make sure Bucky was following. He lingered just inside the doorway, his gaze sweeping over your room. The Christmas tree you’d decorated together stood in the corner, its soft, colorful lights casting a warm glow across the space.

“You did good setting the rest of the stuff up. It looks good,” he said, his voice low and approving.

“Thanks,” you replied, your nerves returning as you moved toward the small dresser where you’d stashed the gift. You pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box and turned back to face him, holding it out with both hands.

Bucky’s eyes flicked from the box to your face, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his expression. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, his voice soft.

“I wanted to,” you said simply, stepping closer. “Go on, open it.”

He hesitated for just a moment before taking the box from your hands. His fingers brushed yours briefly, and the small touch sent a shiver up your spine. Carefully, he unwrapped the paper, revealing a small, vintage-style pocketknife with a dark wooden handle. The owner of the shop said it was from the 1940s but you weren’t sure if that was true or not.

He turned it over in his hand, his thumb running over the smooth surface of the wood. “This is...” He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “This is really nice.”

You shifted on your feet, suddenly self-conscious. “I thought it might remind you of...well, of home. Of a time before all the chaos. I figured it might be something you’d actually use, too.”

Bucky’s gaze lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, the weight of his gratitude was almost overwhelming. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This...this means a lot.”

Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze. “I’m glad you like it.”

He looked down at the knife again, turning it over one more time before tucking it into his pocket. Then, he stepped closer, his blue eyes fixed on yours. “You know,” he said, his voice low and earnest, “this might be the first Christmas in a long time that’s actually felt...real. Like it means something.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m glad,” you said softly. “You deserve that, Bucky.”

For a moment, it felt like time stood still. He was so close now, close enough that you could see the faintest trace of stubble on his jaw, the way his lashes cast soft shadows under his eyes. The air between you was heavy with something unspoken, something fragile and electric all at once.

But then, with a small, almost shy smile, Bucky stepped back, breaking the spell. “You’ve got good taste,” he said, patting the pocket where he’d tucked the knife. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

Bucky lingered, his eyes still locked on yours. Just as he seemed ready to turn and leave, he paused, reaching into the pocket of his jacket. “Wait,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head in curiosity, watching as he pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package. Your breath caught when he held it out to you.

“I, uh... I got you something too,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his tone.

“You did?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat as you reached for the package.

Bucky nodded, his gaze flickering down to the gift in your hands. “I wasn’t sure if I should give it to you, but...it felt right. I saw it a while back, and it reminded me of something my mom used to wear.”

Carefully, you unwrapped the package, your fingers trembling slightly. Inside was a delicate vintage bracelet, its silver chain adorned with a single charm—a tiny engraved locket that opened to reveal enough space for two small pictures.

Your breath hitched as you turned it over in your hands. The craftsmanship was intricate, timeless, and utterly beautiful.

“Bucky,” you whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. “This is...it’s stunning.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks. “It’s nothing fancy. Just thought it might be something you’d like. Something that...you could carry with you, you know? To remind you that you’re never alone.”

Your throat tightened, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. “I love it,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Bucky. This means so much to me.”

You looked up at him, your fingers still clutching the bracelet. The room felt charged with a warmth that wasn’t coming from the soft glow of the Christmas lights. It was him—his presence, his quiet strength, his unspoken care that seemed to radiate and fill every corner of the space.

“Bucky...” you began, hesitating as the words bubbled up inside you. “I—there’s something I need to say.”

His eyes softened, his full attention on you now. “What is it?”

You swallowed hard, summoning the courage you’d been holding back for so long. “I care about you,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. You’ve done so much for me, and being around you...it feels like I’ve finally found where I belong. I’ve never had that before, not until you.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his lips parting as if he hadn’t expected your confession. But then, slowly, a smile touched his face—a real one, not the guarded half-smiles he often wore.

“I’ve cared about you for a long time,” he said quietly, his voice deep and steady. “But I wanted to give you time. To find your place here, to heal, to figure out what you wanted. I didn’t want to push you before you were ready.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your heart aching with a kind of happiness you’d never experienced before. “I am ready,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Bucky took a small step closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush your cheek. The touch was soft, tentative, as if he was afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into his touch, your eyes searching his.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice so quiet it was almost a breath.

You nodded, your answer coming without hesitation. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was gentle yet filled with unspoken longing.

You responded instantly, your hands finding their way to his chest as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the quiet hum of the Christmas lights.

When the kiss ended, Bucky rested his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I don’t want to rush you,” he murmured. “But I want you to know how much you mean to me. How much you’ve always meant to me.”

“You’re not rushing me,” you assured him, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. “This feels...right. It feels like home.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and relief. Without another word, he leaned down and kissed you again, deeper this time, as if to seal the promise between you.

****

The room had grown quiet, save for the soft hum of the Christmas lights strung around your quarters and the faint whistle of the wind outside. You were curled up on the couch with Bucky, your head resting against his chest as his arm stayed wrapped protectively around your shoulders. The warmth of his body and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing had lulled you into a hazy calm.

Bucky’s hand absently traced slow, soothing circles on your arm as his gaze drifted to the window, where snowflakes swirled in the darkness. He glanced down at you, noticing the way your breathing had slowed and how your hand, resting against his chest, had slackened.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, his voice low and tender. “You falling asleep on me?”

You stirred slightly but didn’t lift your head. “Mm...maybe,” you mumbled, your voice heavy with sleep.

Bucky chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” he said, shifting slightly to sit up.

But the moment he moved, your arms tightened around him instinctively, and you pressed closer, your cheek nuzzling against the fabric of his sweater. “Don’t go,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Bucky froze, his heart skipping a beat at your words. He leaned back against the couch, his hand brushing your hair gently. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised softly. “I just don’t want you to wake up with a stiff neck from sleeping on the couch.”

You finally tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes heavy-lidded but filled with a quiet plea. “Stay,” you whispered, your voice more certain now. “Just for tonight. I don’t want to be alone.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, the vulnerability in your voice cutting straight through him. He searched your face, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to gauge if this was truly what you wanted. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, your fingers clutching the front of his sweater. “Please,” you said, your voice so soft it was almost a breath.

Bucky exhaled slowly, his resolve crumbling. “Alright,” he said finally, his tone filled with quiet understanding.

Carefully, he shifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you effortlessly toward your bed. You clung to him, your arms looped around his neck as he gently laid you down. The warmth of the blankets enveloped you, but you refused to let go, your fingers still clutching his sleeve.

Bucky hesitated, his weight balanced on the edge of the bed as he looked down at you. “You really want me to stay?” he asked again, his voice softer now.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation, your eyes meeting his. “I feel safe when you’re here.”

The honesty in your words made something inside him shift. Slowly, he slid onto the bed beside you, careful not to crowd your space as he leaned back against the pillows. You immediately nestled into his side, your head resting against his shoulder as your hand came to rest on his chest.

Bucky let out a quiet sigh, his arm wrapping around you once more. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the heater and the distant howl of the wind outside.

As your breathing evened out, Bucky tilted his head down to look at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, his voice filled with a warmth that matched the glow of the lights around the room.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, both of you fell asleep with a sense of peace you hadn’t known you were missing.

****

The soft glow of morning light filtered through the curtains, blending with the warm twinkle of the Christmas tree lights still glowing from the night before. The compound was quiet, the usual hum of activity stilled by the early hour and the calm of Christmas morning.

You stirred first, the warmth of Bucky’s body next to you a grounding presence. His arm was still draped around your waist, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. For a moment, you stayed still, savoring the peace of the moment—the steady beat of his heart, the faint scent of cedar and something uniquely him, the weight of his arm holding you close.

You shifted slightly, your movements stirring him. Bucky let out a soft, contented groan before his blue eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep. His gaze found yours, and a small, sleepy smile curved his lips.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly from sleep.

“Morning,” you replied softly, your own smile spreading as you propped yourself up slightly to look at him.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the quiet intimacy of the morning wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Eventually, you broke the stillness, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Coffee?” you offered, your voice gentle.

Bucky nodded, his smile growing. “Coffee sounds good.”

You slid out of bed, your bare feet padding softly across the floor as you went to the small kitchenette in your quarters. Bucky followed a moment later, tugging his sweater back into place as he moved to help. You waved him off with a playful smile, insisting, “You just woke up. Sit. Relax.”

He smirked but obeyed, settling himself on the couch as he watched you move. The rich aroma of brewing coffee soon filled the room, mingling with the scent of pine from the Christmas tree. You brought over two mugs, handing one to him before curling up next to him on the couch.

The tree’s lights cast a soft glow around the room, their colors reflecting faintly in the steaming surface of your drinks. You pulled your legs up beneath you, leaning against Bucky’s side as you cradled your mug in your hands.

“This is nice,” you said after a moment, your voice quiet and thoughtful. “I didn’t really know what to expect for my first Christmas, but... this? This is perfect.”

Bucky glanced down at you, his expression softening. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice filled with a kind of tentative hope.

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. Last night... and now... this is the best first Christmas I could’ve imagined.”

His arm tightened around you, pulling you just a bit closer. “Good,” he said, his voice steady and warm. “Because I meant what I said last night. There’ll be more. As many Christmases as you want.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you turned slightly, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Thank you,” you murmured.

Bucky’s free hand came up to brush softly against your hair. “For what?”

“For everything,” you said, your voice quiet but full of emotion. “For being here. For making this feel like home.”

Bucky didn’t reply right away, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the way his thumb brushed absentmindedly against your arm.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a low murmur. “You’ve given me more than you know,” he said. “I didn’t think... I didn’t think I’d ever feel this again. This kind of peace.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. For a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the words unspoken but understood.

The moment lingered, soft and quiet, as the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the world in a serene stillness. It was a Christmas morning you’d never forget—the first of many, just as Bucky had promised.

The hum of activity and cheerful chatter echoed down the halls as you and Bucky eventually made your way to the common room, hand in hand. The soft buzz of excitement in the air was unmistakable—it was Christmas morning, and despite the team’s various histories and struggles, they had all come together to celebrate like a makeshift family.

As the two of you stepped into the common room, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, hot cocoa, and cinnamon pastries hit you instantly. Wanda and Clint were seated on the couch near the towering Christmas tree, their attention briefly shifting from the pile of wrapped gifts underneath it to you and Bucky. Sam stood near the fireplace, gesturing animatedly as Bruce tried to hang a strand of garland that kept slipping off.

It didn’t take long for them to notice.

“Well, well,” Sam said, turning to face you with a sly grin as his eyes zeroed in on your intertwined hands. “What’s this? I step away for one mission, and suddenly you two are attached at the hip? Called it!”

Wanda turned to look at you both, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “I did sense something was different when I walked in earlier,” she added playfully. “But I didn’t want to pry.”

Clint, perched on the arm of the couch, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “About time, Barnes. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, his free hand rising to rub at the back of his neck, but the faint pink that dusted his cheeks gave him away. “You’ve been back for all of five minutes, and you’re already running your mouth,” he quipped, shooting a halfhearted glare at Sam.

“Oh, come on, Bucky,” Sam teased, folding his arms and leaning casually against the fireplace. “I mean, look at you! The guy who used to sit in the corner and brood now looks downright cheerful.”

Despite the teasing, the warmth in the room was palpable. No one was being cruel or overbearing—it was clear they were genuinely happy for you both.

You squeezed Bucky’s hand, shooting him a small, reassuring smile before addressing the team. “Alright, alright,” you said, your voice light but firm. “Get it out of your systems now. We’ve got presents to open, and I’ll be damned if I let Sam’s running commentary delay the fun.”

Sam threw his hands up in mock surrender, grinning. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I won’t circle back to this later.”

The morning unfolded with laughter and lighthearted banter. The group gathered around the tree, taking turns opening gifts and sharing stories. Wanda surprised you with a beautiful scarf she had hand-knit, and Clint gifted you a set of books he had noticed you admiring during a rare team outing. Sam gave Bucky a “World’s Okayest Teammate” mug, which earned a hearty laugh from everyone except Bucky, who muttered something about breaking it “accidentally.”

As the festivities carried on, you found yourself glancing at Bucky every so often, catching his gaze as he looked back at you. Each time, a small, private smile passed between you, a silent acknowledgment of the new chapter you’d both begun.

At one point, Bruce approached you with a warm smile, his voice quiet amidst the lively chatter. “You seem happy,” he said simply.

You nodded, your eyes drifting toward Bucky, who was laughing at something Clint had said. “I am,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with certainty. “More than I’ve been in a long time.”

Bruce gave you a knowing nod before stepping back into the group, leaving you with a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in years.

As the morning turned into afternoon, the team began to scatter, some retreating to their rooms, others lingering in the common room to enjoy the warmth of the fire and the quiet buzz of the holiday. You and Bucky stayed together, finding a comfortable spot on the couch near the tree.

Bucky reached over to take your hand, his thumb brushing gently against your knuckles. “You alright?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You turned to him, your heart swelling as you took in the warmth and tenderness in his gaze. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steady. “I’m more than alright. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a soft smile, his hand tightening slightly around yours. “Good,” he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken promises.

The two of you sat there for a while longer, surrounded by the quiet hum of the compound and the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights. It was a moment you’d cherish forever—a memory of warmth, love, and belonging that marked the start of something truly beautiful.

[savstan1]

hey sqh gang i have a quick sketch of my pride and joy. this is inspired by the song wǒ yào wǒ yào, specifically this vid, it genuinely makes me so happy to watch. + /horsegirlwarcrimes WINRN reaching the end (!!) of the main story i imagined this vibe he would bring on one of the gang’s get together nights. i want to show him just soo happy nd in love with life.

[alastor-simp]

Alastor x Reader - Sleeping On His Lap

Here is my attempt at a Alastor x reader fanfiction. Took me awhile to kinda get into his character so please don't be mad if Alastor seems a bit off. Enjoy!

Sigh, it was another eventful day at the Happy Hotel, or Hazbin Hotel as it was now called as a certain deer demon decided to change the name. You had spent all day doing certain tasks around the hotel such as helping Charlie create posters for the hotel, clean the rooms with Nifty, break up the brawl between Vaggie and Angel Dust as he had pissed her off one too many times and organize the bar for Husk as he was passed out drunk. You could have refused to do these things, but you enjoyed helping people, so it made it all worth it.

You had started working at the hotel after you had saw Charlie singing on the 666 news about the hotel and redeeming demons, only for her idea to be made a laughing stock upon everyone who watched the broadcast. You actually had mixed feelings about the whole redeeming thing, seeing as you weren't sure if someone like you could be sent to heaven, despite not being a very big criminal during your time when you were alive, but apparently doing a little shoplifting is enough to send you a one way ticket to hell. Charlie's words did inspire you a little bit, so even if you felt that you couldn't be redeemed, others probably had a better chance, so you decided to head to the hotel and ask for a job after the broadcast was cut off from the brawl with Charlie and Katie Killjoy. You were hired in a split second and immediately pulled into a bear hug by Charlie, and then introduced you to the others.

Back to the present, you began to feel extremely exhausted from moving around everywhere, so you headed over to one of the rooms with the long couches so you could take a rest. Heading into one of the rooms, you peeped around and saw that no one was there, which made it better as you really needed some peace and quiet. Heaving a deep sigh, you sat down on the couch, turning and falling back, as you laid your body down, with your head facing the front of the couch. "What a long day", thinking to yourself as your eyes slowly began to close and you were lulled into a deep sleep.

**2 Hours Later**

As you were sleeping, you felt the sensation of someone petting your head, the soothing feeling had awoken you a bit, but you quickly fell back asleep at the warm touch. You could feel that you were holding something in your dreams, and you assumed it was one of the pillows on the couch, so you brought it closer to your face and nuzzled it. "Mm, smells nice ", as the scent from the pillow was making you more relaxed, as it reminded you of a being in the middle of a deep forest. After sleeping for 30 more minutes, you slowly began to open your eyes, and try to make out what was in front of you. Expecting to see a pillow, you saw red stripes in front of you, "Huh?" As you were still trying to make out what was in front of you, a loud voice interrupted your thoughts: "Ah, awake now are we?", said a static voice above you. Eyes opening wide, you looked up from your position and saw Alastor staring down at you with his trademark smile. Slowly, you began to piece together that you were laying on his lap, and nuzzled into his chest as you were sleeping. "AHHHH", jumping up from your position, you rolled off his lap, and your body fell to the ground as you stared at Alastor in shock, as he continued to look at you with his glowing eyes, amused at your reaction. "Um, h-how long was I sleeping on your lap?", you softly asked, as your face was red, but your eyes were showing fear, as you remembered that Alastor did not like to be touch, and you happened to hug him in your sleep. "HAHA, For quite a while, darling. It was a very busy day, I assume?", Alastor said as he placed his arm on the armrest of the couch, and his hand against his cheek, smiling even wider.

Nodding your head, you slowly got up from your position, and started apologizing to Alastor, eyes aiming towards the ground and fingers twiddling together. Alastor raised an eyebrow and wondered why you were apologizing, to which you answered that you had hugged him in your sleep, and that he made it very aware that he did not enjoy physical contact from someone unless he initiated it, feeling extremely bad if you made him uncomfortable. Listening to you, Alastor's smile relaxed to a small grin as he looked at you with gentle eyes. He did admit that he was not use to being touch by others, and was quite surprised from the sleep hug, but he didn't detest it as much coming from you, which boggled his mind completely. It must be due to your kind and innocent nature that made him react different around you, as he was used to more of the common riff raff being terrified of him or trying to battle in a turf war, but how you were with him, made his black heart melt.

Feeling that Alastor was upset as he didn't respond to your apology, you quickly excused yourself and began to head over to the door to leave. A loud SNAP was heard and before you knew it, you had been teleported back on to the couch, this time being seated on Alastors lap. "A-Al, what are you doing?!", your face began to become as red as his hair, while your eyes stared at Alastor in shock. Smiling at you, Alastor moved his hand to your chin and tilted your face up: "There is no need to apologize, darling. If I had been upset about you hugging me, you possibly w̩͉͍̱̍̂̉̊o̫̼̐̎̋͜u͚͌l̳̓d̠͉̗͋̔͞'̼̳̣̼͊̏̾̾t͜͝ ͕̱͐͠ḇ̅e̙͗ ͍͓͔̱͍͛̔͌͘͞a̝̜̘̎́͒ḽ͒í̱̙̈́v̧̌e̠͠ ̢̹̜́́̈̀ͅr̲͇̳̅̽͌i̩͈̒̅ĝ̲̦̎ẖ̛̳̲͙̀͌̽͘ͅt͉̅ ͖̞͍̞́̋͛͛ň͚̫̦́͂̿͟o̱͌w̡̕" he said, as his eyes flashed for a second into radio dials. "However! I am not opposed to be touched by you. So no need to apologize, my dear.", Alastor said as he continued to smile at you widely, but his glowing eyes were looking at you softly, letting you know that he was not angry with you. Feeling shy, you turned your head away from Alastor, muttering a soft okay, as your heart was beating rapidly. "Smile my dear!" Alastor said as he moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, to have you look at him again. Baring through the embarrassing situation, you gave Al a small smile, which pleased him. "You always over do it, darling. While Charlie and I appreciate your efforts at helping the hotel, it does no good to work yourself to the point of fatigue. If you are ever feeling exhausted and need a break, don't be hesitant to come find me, as my radio tower is open to you. Understand, my dear?" said Alastor, as he leaned closer towards you, making you flustered again.

Nodding your head was enough to let Alastor knew you understood as he chuckled, while sliding you off his lap, and as he stood up from the couch. "Now then, we should probably head back to the lobby before the others get worried about our lack of presence.", He said, as he straighten his coat out, while turning towards you, extending his hand out for you to take it. "Yeah we should", as you grabbed his hand, and made your way with him back to the lobby. You were still trying to process what just happened between you and Alastor, but you feel like you both have become much closer then before, and you didn't mind it one bit.

[seumyo]

bakugou’s never been happier to do this alongside you.

The sound of Bakugou’s ringtone—specifically one for those calls—the kind that only came when villains decided to cause trouble at ungodly hours—jolted him awake on the second ring. The kind that meant neither of you were getting any more sleep.

He groaned loudly, his voice raspy from sleep. “Son of a—” He didn’t even finish the curse as he snatched his phone and squinted at the glowing screen. “What the hell is it this time?”

Beside him, you stirred, mumbling groggily as you pulled the blanket over your head. “Is it another one?” you asked sleepily, your voice muffled.

Bakugou ignored you for the moment, his phone pressed to his ear as the barking voice of the dispatcher filled the room. His brows furrowed deeper, his scowl turning deadly as he listened to the report. “Villains in the old district? At this hour? Those bastards don’t sleep or somethin’? Yeah, yeah—I got it. We’ll be there.”

He slammed the phone down on the bed, letting out a deep sigh as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Goddamn it. I hate this stupid job.”

You let out a small laugh beneath the blanket. “Liar.”

Bakugou glared at the lump of fabric that was you—his partner. “What’d you just say?”

“You heard me,” you teased, peeking out just enough for him to see the drowsy smile on your face—which can barely be seen with the dim light of the moonlight outside the bedroom window. “You love this job, Kats. You’d combust without it.”

“Like hell I would,” he muttered, standing up and running a hand through his already messy hair. “I’m only outta bed ‘cause I don’t trust those extras not to screw up.”

“You’re up because you want to. Big difference.”

“Whatever.” Bakugou shot you a glance over his shoulder. “Hurry your ass up. Don’t got time for you to sit there all cozy like we ain’t got villains to blow up.”

You didn’t budge.

“Give me two minutes. I just need to—hey!”

Bakugou had moved without warning, stomping back to the bed and scooping you up in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised squeak as he effortlessly picked you up, blanket and all, and cradled you against his chest.

“Katsuki!” you protested, trying to wriggle free. “What are you doing?!”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, barely sparing you a glance as he carried you toward the door. “You’re slow as hell when you’re tired. This’ll save time.”

“You can’t just carry me every time we get called in!”

“Watch me.”

He stomped down the hallway, his bare feet thudding against the wooden floor, while his voice dipped into a string of curses. “Stupid villains. Stupid middle-of-the-night calls. Stupid hero work. I’m gonna blast whoever’s causing this into the next century.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter now, your head falling back against his shoulder. “You sound like a cranky old man.”

“Keep talkin’ and I’m droppin’ you,” Bakugou threatened. “Why the hell are you laughin’? Think this is funny?”

“Very. You’re like my happy pill.”

“Yeah? And you’re heavy,” he grumbled, though the way he carried you effortlessly said otherwise.

“Excuse me?!”

A corner of Bakugou’s mouth quirked up as he looked down at you, amusement flickering in his eyes despite his perpetual scowl. “I didn’t say nothin’. Quit wastin’ time.”

You smiled against his shoulder, listening to him grumble about this whole ordeal. He sounded pissed—like the world had wronged him personally by waking you two up—but you could see the truth in his actions. His grip was steady, his movements careful as he carried you to where your hero gear was waiting. It was such a Bakugou thing to do: grumble and complain, but still take care of you without hesitation.

By the time you make it to the gear room, Bakugou carefully sets you down on your feet. You wobbled slightly from the sudden shift, and Bakugou’s hand instinctively shot out to steady you.

“Oi, don’t fall on me now.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you murmured, rubbing your eyes before turning to grab your hero suit. “You’re way too grumpy for someone who just carried me all the way here. Admit it—you love being a hero.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You do, though,” you teased, already halfway into your gear. “I know you do.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, but he didn’t argue. Instead, his voice softened just enough to make you pause. “I wouldn’t do this job if it meant leavin’ you to deal with shit alone.”

You stilled, looking at him from the corner of your eye. He was standing by the doorway now, fully suited up and waiting for you, his face set in his usual determined scowl. But something about the way he looked at you, about the small, unspoken truths in his words, made your chest feel warm.

“Y’know, you’re so sweet to me at the most inconvenient times. Why can’t you say things like that when I don’t look like I’ve been ran over by a truck because I’m sleep deprived?”

“Die.”

“Is that your way of saying you love me too, Ka-tsu-ki?”

He scoffed. “Hurry up, dumbass. We’ve got work to do.”

“Ha! You didn’t deny it, so I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Shut up, you’re annonyin’.”

You smiled faintly, finishing the last of your preparations before walking over to him. “But you love me.”

“Of fucking course,” Bakugou said, opening the door and stepping out into the brisk night air. “Let’s go. Those idiots could only hold out for so long ‘cause they really had to call us in.”

You followed close behind, still smiling to yourself as you fell into step next to him. Despite his grumbles, despite the curses under his breath, Bakugou had never been happier. Because at the end of the day, no matter how ungodly the hour, you were always there—and as far as he was concerned, nothing else mattered.

Because he loves this job—especially when he’s doing it alongside you.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- the aha moment

or...how they realize they're in love with you

seungcheol doesn't get that aha moment, falling in love isn't something that happens within seconds for him. it's like he's slowly drifting into love, not even realizing you've become the focal point of his entire existence. when it finally hits him, it's a quiet, simple moment. he's watching you make him breakfast in the morning, admiring you quietly from the kitchen counter. he zones out for a moment, blinking suddenly and realizing damn. that's my woman. and he knows he's ruined for life.

it's kind of silly, how jeonghan realizes he's in love with you. he's just returned home from a busy day at work, entering the house to find it empty. searching the place top to bottom, he's about to call you when - BOO - you jump out from one of the closets and scares the soul out of him. he's clutching his chest, watching as you collapse onto the ground in a fit of giggles. he can't help but laugh along, realizing through the chaos that he's found his soulmate, and he'd be damned not to admit he's in love with you.

joshua's a simple man by nature. he's easily happy in life, only needing his members, his job, his lifestyle, and of course, you. it doesn't take long into your relationship before he realizes he's in love, as the two of you take a stroll along the Han River after a long day. he's watching the setting sun reflect against your figure, taking his phone out to snap a few pictures. it's when he notices his camera roll is full of pictures of you does he think well, that's it. i'm in love.

upon meeting his family, jun notices how much work you've put into it. you're doing your best to speak his town's dialect, communicating with his parents in a language that made them most comfortable. his heart swells when he sees you amidst his childhood home, trading stories and eating with the people who raised him. it's when he notes that you look so perfect here that he realizes you just fit. he's in love.

as if everything else is with soonyoung, his aha moment is full of fireworks and pizzazz. having just finished the most record breaking performance of his life, he finds himself with one thought only: i want to go home. usually, it's because he's tired. but now, ever since you stumbled into his life, he finds himself wanting, needing, to go home so he can hold you and recite everything that happened today. he's practically thrumming with energy to rush home, and everyone around him sees what is so painfully obvious. he's so in love.

wonwoo's always credited himself to be a loner. not a lot of people can fit with his quiet personality, so when you offer the idea of "parallel play" he's a little confused. his heart warms when you explain that you don't mind doing separate things as long as you're in the same area, understanding that he needs more time to himself than others might. it's when you tell him you love him enough to compromise does he think im so in love with this girl right now.

woozi's used to writing songs dedicated to his fans and members. he sits down for another writing session, brainstorming ideas and the thought of you pops into his mind. he shrugs, thinking it might be nice to mix it up a bit, sitting down to write something about you. it's when he reads his own words back does he realize he's irrevocably screwed and so in love with you. thought about settling down, buying her a house and saying screw the music. yeah, he's in love.

having always been a realist, minghao doesn't necessary believe in true love, or love at first sight. he understands there's going to be someone out there for him, but he's skeptical that that someone is going to be perfect. all his beliefs go out the window the moment he sees you - it's like you're surrounded by a golden glow - and he realizes maybe love at first sight can be real.

seokmin loves and gives as easy as breathing. he's always been a generous guy, and it's when you sit him down and kindly remind him to leave some for himself does he stare at you and realize ok i've found the one. you've become that steadiness in his life that used to be just his members, and you love and give to him like it's as simple as breathing too.

having always been the resident cook, mingyu's eyeing your food creation like it's some kind of poison or drug. he had insisted you didn't need to cook for him, he's always been the cook and doesn't mind it, but you were stubborn and he relented. it's when the first bite blows him away does he realize he kinda misses having someone cook for him too. if you're this good at cooking i might just have to marry you, he says, ignoring how you blush, going back for another bite.

seungkwan's always been the entertainer. he doesn't mind it, he enjoys the fact it's his job to make everyone laugh. but when times get tough and he's in no mood to be the entertainer, you're right there to support him. it's when he gets home to you after a particularly rough day and you welcome him in with open arms, murmuring how he's done well and doesn't need to do more. it's when he realizes he can just be seungkwan - not seungkwan the entertainer, but just seungkwan - and he loves you for that.

vernon never really thought about finding the one. he always just assumed that they would find him. and that's exactly what happens, when you bump into each other at the movie theatre - both there alone just cause. it's when you're enthusiastically going band for band with vernon about movies that he's forced with the realization that shit. maybe i have found the one.

chan's always known he was in love with you. he doesn't like to admit it cause he thinks it makes him sound sappy, but he truly never questioned his love for you. it was a simple thing in his mind - this person makes me so fucking happy - i must be in love. and how could it not be simple for him? he's staring at you quipping about some joke to his friends and he's thinking i love you. he's watching you just wake up from a nap and he's thinking i love you. he sees a text from you on his phone mid-dance practice. i love you. he's always been in love with you because he loves everything to do with you.

[no-144444]

sweating- o.piastri

summary: oscar has been acting strange

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Brown! reader

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Zak had been worried about Oscar for a while. The far-off looks in meetings, the silence at dinners, the constant stares he was getting, all of it. He’d even been so worried, that he came to you, and you’d told him that Oscar had been just fine at home, so it must be something to do with work. 

It was a strange thing, to be dating your boss’s daughter. Oscar had in fact fallen for you within seconds of meeting you back in 2022, his first visit to MTC, before everything else happened. You, a legal trainee on the McLaren legal team, was the one running him through his contract, and he was very thankful that his lawyer was there to ask questions, because he was just focused on you. As he joined the team, you two got closer. About half way through his rookie season, he finally plucked up the courage to ask you out, and you had said yes. What ensued was a few months of sneaking around until you finally told your dad, who supported you two, but from afar. He liked Oscar, would he have preferred you pick someone that wasn’t his driver, yes, very much so, but he didn’t have a say in your life. You were an adult and if you wanted to go get your heart broken by an F1 driver, that was up to you. The one thing Zak hadn’t accounted for was the fact that Oscar was a sweetheart who was genuinely head over heels for you. He saw it when you were in the paddock, how Oscar smiled a little brighter, how he made you a priority all weekend, how he performed better. 

So what the fuck was going on with Oscar now? 

Zak was worried that he was planning on breaking up with you, or maybe he was just going through some mental roadblocks at work, so he called him into his office. 

Oscar awkwardly took a seat across from him, waiting to be addressed. 

“Are you alright, Osc? You seem a bit… off lately,” Zak asked, nothing but concern in his voice. 

Oscar shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, but even he knew it sounded wrong. This is really not how he wanted this to go. He was insured of Zak’s worry by the way his brows furrowed. “You can talk to me kid, you know that right? If it’s about Y/n or-”

“It’s not about Y/n,” Oscar assured him. “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Oscar, talk to me, I’m here for you. If you’re going through something-”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask for your blessing!” he admitted, speaking far too loud and far too fast. Oscar looked up to see Zak’s face blank, his jaw slightly dropped. “I’m so sorry-”

“You have it,” he said. Now it was Oscar’s jaw that dropped. “Of course you have it,” Zak’s lips turned into a smile. “She adores you. You clearly adore her. I love you, my wife loves you, my sons love you. Of course you have my blessing.”

He took a deep breath and smiled. “Thank you,” he chuckled. “God, I was terrified.”

“You thought I’d say no?”

Oscar shrugged. “Maybe?” 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Zak was very happy when he woke up to a call from the two of you, engaged, a few weeks later.

oscarpiastri

liked by pierregasly, zbrownceo, landonorris and 348,928 others

oscarpiastri: awesome season, can't wait to marry this girl though :)

comments

landonorris: OMFG YALL ARE YOUNGER THAN ME PLZ SLOW DOWN -> oscarpiastri: no more papaya rules 🤷

pierregalsy: too young -> kikagomez: bitch -> user92: lmao he's never said that before

zbrownceo: Congrats guys! Can't wait to walk you down the aisle!

charlesleclerc: MY SON IS GETTING MARRIED!!!!!! -> oscarpiastri: thank you adoptive father :)

user93: god she is GLOWING

user12: these are the cutest photos ever!!!!!!!

user8: THE RINGGGGG

lilymunihe: OMG I'M SO EXCITED!!!! ->youruser: OMG LOVE YOUUUUU

user98: they're so in love it's actually sickening

logansargeant: no ring picking creds? -> oscarpiastri: I don't think grimacing at every ring I chose was very helpful -> hattiepiastri: nah, but it was funny

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[misswynters]

𓏲 ˖. ♡ Ekko as your bf

having the boy who shattered time as your bf

warnings. none, just all fluff (truly need it after act iii)

How You Got Together.

• It started with a deep friendship. You were someone who always stuck by him through thick and thin, whether it was sneaking into Zaun’s alleys to watch him race or sitting on rooftops together while he talked about his plans to make Zaun a better place.

• Ekko didn’t realize his feelings right away, but every time he saw you cheering him on or patching up his wounds after another risky stunt, something in his chest warmed.

• One day, during a quiet moment after a long day of running with the Firelights, he blurted it out. “You know, you’re the only person who keeps me sane around here. I think I’m in love with you.”

• You were stunned for a second, but when you smiled and told him you felt the same way, he grinned so wide his face hurt. “Guess we’re stuck with each other, huh, Firefly?”

Nicknames He Gives You.

• Firefly — His favorite. You’re his little spark of light in Zaun’s darkness.

• Shorty/Tallie — Depending on your height, he’ll playfully tease you about it.

• Gearhead — If you have any interest in tinkering or helping him fix things, this becomes a fond nickname.

• Starling — For when he’s feeling extra soft and poetic.

• Babe — When he’s feeling casual or playful.

Love Languages.

• Acts of Service: Ekko loves taking care of you in small, thoughtful ways: tinkering with gadgets to make your life easier, fixing anything you need, or walking you home to make sure you’re safe.

• Physical Touch: He’s touch-starved, and it shows. He thrives on hand-holding, cuddling, and casual touches like ruffling your hair or resting his hand on your knee during meetings.

• Quality Time: Ekko values the moments when it’s just the two of you. Whether you’re hanging out in the hideout or watching the stars from the rooftops, he treasures your company.

How He Shows Affection.

• He has this way of looking at you like you’re his entire world, especially when you’re laughing or talking about something you’re passionate about.

• He’s a sucker for forehead kisses: quick, soft, and full of love.

• Ekko likes to surprise you with little gifts he makes himself, like a glowing trinket to wear or a gadget that makes your life easier.

• When he’s feeling especially bold, he’ll pull you close by the waist and murmur something sweet in your ear just to see you blush.

What He’s Like in a Relationship.

• He’s fiercely loyal and protective, always making sure you’re safe and cared for.

• Ekko is a mix of playful and serious. he’ll joke around to make you laugh, but when it comes to your happiness or well-being, he’s all locked in.

• He listens to you like it’s the most important thing in the world, always giving you his full attention. He’s like completely mesmerized with the way you speak to him. like it could literally be you just yapping about the stupidest thing and you will still have his full attention. Ekko would be all smiley and smitten he just loves hearing you talk about your interests.

Dates with Him.

• Rooftop stargazing is one of his favorites. He’ll bring a blanket and snacks, and you’ll spend hours lying side by side, talking about anything and everything.

• Late-night walks through Zaun, where he shows you hidden spots he loves, like graffiti walls he painted or quiet corners with the best views of the Undercity lights.

• He loves taking you everywhere with him. Anywhere, that would allow him to proudly show you off to his crew.

• Sometimes, dates are simple. Fixing things together, cooking (well, attempting to), or dancing to music in the hideout.

• Taking you to do inventions. Whether it’s with heimerdinger or not he will not mind having you around while he does his nerdy stuff. Encourages you while you try to do something while failing miserably.

What He Loves About You the Most.

• Your unwavering support. He’s always carrying the weight of Zaun’s struggles, and you’re the one person who makes him feel like it’s okay to lean on someone else for a while.

• Your laughter. It’s his favorite sound, and he’ll do anything to hear it.

• Your determination. Whether you’re helping him with the Firelights or pursuing your own goals, he admires your drive and tenacity.

• The way you care for others. It reminds him of why he fights so hard to protect Zaun.

Arguments with Him.

• Ekko HATES arguing, especially with you. He’ll try to keep his cool, but sometimes his frustration slips out.

• He’s quick to apologize if he’s in the wrong. He doesn’t like going to bed angry, so he’ll do whatever it takes to make things right before the night ends.

• If you’re upset, he’ll give you space if you need it, but he’ll always check in to make sure you’re okay. “Look, I’m sorry. I just… I hate fighting with you. Can we talk about this?”

• Arguments never last long because both of you care too much to stay mad.

Little Things He Does for You.

• He always checks in on you, whether it’s through quick messages or showing up to see you in person.

• He’ll steal your snacks but always makes sure to bring extras so you don’t actually lose out.

• Ekko loves playing with your hair, whether it’s braiding it, twirling it around his finger, or just running his hands through it absentmindedly.

• When you’re stressed, he’ll pull you into a hug and whisper, “You got this, Firefly. I believe in you.”

• If he notices you shivering, he’ll shrug off his jacket and wrap it around you without a second thought.

Moments That Make Him Soft.

• When you fall asleep on his shoulder after a long day. He’ll sit perfectly still so he doesn’t wake you, his heart melting at how peaceful you look.

• The way you light up when you see him, like he’s the only person in the world that matters.

• When you cheer him on during one of his missions. Your belief in him gives him strength like nothing else.

• Watching you interact with Scraps or other animals. He loves seeing your gentle, caring side.

Overall in my opinion.

Ekko as your boyfriend is a mix of excitement, warmth, and unwavering devotion. He’s someone who will always have your back, someone who will fight for you and with you, and someone who will treasure every moment you spend together. With him, life in Zaun feels a little brighter, a little safer, and a whole lot more full of love.

note. just my opinion :3

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @annybah @niredsw @stqrlxght @kriss-w @marilovz @blkmystery @multiverse-fandoms-2001 @turquoizxe @mishellii @kor-0suu @feelya @theamazingmilli @multim00n @m00nd0v3 @sodavrr @maialublmere @radtragedyarcade @spiderhook @night-fall-moon

banner. @anitalenia

[werecreature-addicted]

Have you ever written about an amnesiac werewolf? Like the reader finds a poor lost soul in the forest and takes them in, unknowingly dooming herself to becoming a breeding pet when the moon strikes and his instincts take over? He doesn't know what's come over him. He really doesn't. :'(

TW: car accidents. dubcon. do i know anything about hospitals? no. shhh. enjoy the werewolf porn.

You've grown quite attached to John Doe. He came in three days ago, he'd been "found" naked wandering a forest road at night and gotten cleaned out by a driver in a pickup truck. The driver said he thought he hit a dog or a deer that had wandered onto the road and was horrified to see a man there instead lying bloody on the asphalt.

Despite how bad John Doe looked when he was wheeled into your clinic, he'd been recovering quite nicely. He was even conscious now although he didn't seem to remember anything from before the accident. That coupled with the fact that he was found naked in the woods, it was proving difficult to contact any friends or family who might be able to give a concrete identity.

You weren't too worried though. It was a small community, and you were sure someone who knew him would turn up eventually. As for you, this was a slow time of year for a humble trauma center doctor, you were able to spend lots of time with your favorite amnesiac. It was a little miraculous really how well he was recovering everything but his memory. If you didn't know any better you'd say it was supernatural.

You found yourself spending more and more time with your John Doe, he was sweet and funny, Not to mention he was very attractive, even bloody and bruised. Although the budding warmth you felt for him was tainted slightly both by the fact that he was your patient and the nagging worry in the back of your head that this wasn't the real him. This could all be a false personality that he would lose once he got his memories back.

You'd already started toying with a daydream where once recovered John Doe would still come by to visit you. You shake your head and try to dispel those fantasies from your mind. You mentally chided yourself, you weren't a teenager with a crush you should be handling yourself more professionally than this. Still, your heart raced when he smiled at you.

In the end, it wasn't a friend or family member who revealed who John Doe really was, but it was the summer rain. You were just about to leave for the night when you started getting phone calls. A bad storm was coming in and soon it wouldn't be safe to drive on the largely dirt roads in this town, no one would be coming up to fill in the night shift. You could make it home safe if you left now. But that would mean abandoning your patient and you couldn't do that. So instead you just sighed and hunkered down preparing to wait out the storm inside the hospital.

John Doe was more than happy to have your company- he liked you better than any of the overnight team anyway, and over the past day he'd begun to feel strange. Not in pain just energized in a usual way. there was a tingling sensation just below his skin, he felt hungry but not for food. He couldn't really put a name to the strange pressure in his body, he only knew that it was growing and it made him want to keep you close.

You were in the break room when it happened. You were trying to figure something out for dinner which was hard with only vending machine options available when lightning strikes and the lights die. you hesitate, waiting for backup generators but only the red EXIT lights stay on, casting an eerie red glow to the room. You were just starting to pull open cabinets looking for a flashlight when you heard a loud crash and what sounded like an animal growl. Your heart stops and before you can think you're running toward the sound relying on muscle memory to navigate the darkened halls.

You freeze seeing the hulking form of a wolf over the tipped-over bed of John Doe. How the hell did a wolf get in here? And alone. Even panicked you know something isn't right. Wolves don't come this close to humans, they don't attack humans and they never ever do it alone. Then the wolf looks at you and stands on its hind legs and you realize it's not a wolf but a monster.

Your hands tremble, you should run- call the sheriff- search the lost and found for a gun and shoot the damn thing. But you can't bring yourself to run. The creature in front of you is awe-inspiring despite your fear, you're curious. Then the monster moves and the interest vanishes. Again your body moves before your brain can think you turn and run. You don't look behind as you run but you can hear the beast howl and the solid thud thud thud as it chases after you.

It's a small emergency room, you know there's nowhere to hide unless the werewolf can read and respect "staff only" signs. You feel a large clawed hand wrap around your waist your legs are still kicking trying to run as you're lifted in the air by the monster.

"You took such good care of me...now let me take care of you, sweet mate," the werewolf growls in your ear, turning you to face him, forcing you to look at his hulking monstrous form. You struggle futilely in his grasp he's strong and you can see his muscles bulge under his dark black fur. Lightning strikes again illuminating his sharp white teeth and his bright hungry eyes.

It takes you a moment to catch up to the fact that 1. The werewolf had spoken and 2. That he had promised to "take care of you". Before you can catch your breath let alone ask what that meant he's shoving you down onto the cold linoleum floor, shredding your pants with one clawed hand and the other he presses down hard on your back in between your shoulder blades keeping you pinned to the floor. You can feel his warm breath on your exposed skin as he huffs your scent. you can't see him but you know he's drooling. The attention makes you tremble, and then he pushes his thick rough tongue against your body and you moan. His tongue is thick and wet against your trembling cunt. He can't keep his hands to himself, his clawed hand wraps around your breast squeezing as he pulls you back against his hungry lapping mouth.

You can't keep your moans to yourself. The little cries of pleasure slip from your mouth only making the beast more aggressive as he eats you out. Eventually, you give up trying to even hold back the sounds or pretend that you aren't enjoying the ravishment.

It doesn't take much longer for you to cum, he doesn't pull away when you reach your peak. He pushes his tongue deep inside of you savoring the flavor of your cum and the fact that he had successfully pulled an orgasm from you just like he'd promised. His tail wags as he cleans you up, then you start getting wet again and he's not cleaning you up as much as he is eating you out again. His cock hangs heavy between his legs too big and thick for his erection to lift so it just throbs with need and drips thick beads of precum onto the clean floor.

He can't quite decide what he needs more, to jerk himself off or to keep both his hands on you. Eventually, his own ache can't be ignored and he starts to jerk himself off. it doesn't take long for him to cum the sweet flood of your cum just drives him insane. his knot swells pitifully as his semen splatters against your legs and ass dripping down to your pussy. two of his clawed fingers scoop up some of his spilled seed and push it inside of you.

"Next time I cum tonight it's going to be inside of you." It sounds like a threat, you can't wait.

[brownblob]

"I Love You"

When the words "I love you" spill from the prefect's lips, how do the Housewardens react?

Part 1

TW: Kissing in Malleus' part, forehead kisses, mentions of insecurities (Fluff)

Part 2 (Separate): Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

ᥫ᭡. Kalim Al-Asim ᥫ᭡.

Like the scorching sun in the Scalding Sands, Kalim's feelings for you burned deep within his heart. Why is it that he wants to spend time with you, but the moment he does, his heart seems to stop? Why is it that the word 'friend' bugs him when associated with you? Why is it that he wants to be selfish, to hog you for himself? His mind become's mush whenever you're near and his throat feels dry, he just feels so shy.

Kalim is everything but shy.

Expensive gifts, prized heirlooms, rare gemstones, and any luxury you could name- he'll give it all to you, so why do you reject? Anyone else would accept his gifts with open arms, encouraging him to give more. Wait, you aren't anyone, you're you. You don't take, you give. Despite the little you have in this new world, you who harbors no magic, gives him joy. You spend time with him, you care for him, and you don't take from him- he really wishes you would.

Take his riches and look back at him just one more time, he swears he'll hand you all the gold he can acquire. So please, please just look at him more.

You're caring, so much so that he could just melt in your arms. How lucky he feels when you look at him, but why? Jamil looks at him too, he doesn't feel as if mice are tickling him then. No, when you're around, all he can see is you. You who shines brighter than any gemstone his wealth could buy. You are not a prize to be won, he knows, but he wishes that the glitters of gold could woo you, make him your number one.

He feels so lost and it hurts, nights spent sobbing away.

Kalim, the name alone makes you smile. Someone who's kind despite all that he's faced, all the horrible people he's met- he still believes in the good of people. Some call it naivety, you call it 'a heart of gold'. Yes, he's sheltered, there's some things he's slow at, and he has flaws. Despite said flaws, he want to become better and you see him try every single day. You've seen how he makes everyone comfortable, always including anyone and everyone, how he's akin to a drop of sunshine. It's a rarity and you appreciate it greatly. Twisted Wonderland, it's new to you and things are difficult but when Kalim's there, things don't feel that difficult.

He doesn't look down upon you, he doesn't think you're weak despite having no magic, and he certainly never belittles you- others have and that hurt.

He's always up for some fun, but it always feels better when he can share the fun with you. Thus, flying carpet rides have become your nightly routine. There's a soft knock on your window every other night, a hand extended your way; calling you to live, be happy. You can't help but blush when the carpet takes off, his body huddles closer to yours and the moon seems tease you with how bright she is.

It's another night and he's come to pick you up to go see the Scarabia moon. You're sitting next to each other, the desert seemingly glowing underneath. The stars twinkle and you swear the breeze is cool on purpose, just so the both of you have no choice but to lean into each other. Hands intertwine, both of you looking the other way, cheeks red like cherries.

"I..I love you."

You fumble out on mistake, your breath hitching the moment you realize. His head whips towards you, garnet eyes appraising your blushing visage. A soft smile appears on his lips, his sun-kissed skin peachy with a blush of his own.

"I love you too."

He says eagerly, hands wrapping around you as he pulls you in. The moon looks bigger, the stars winking at you, and the scent of sandalwood engulfs you. A soft kiss is planted on your forehead, one that lingers. Like a pair of sea otters, you both hold the other's hand.

ᥫ᭡. Vil Schoenheit ᥫ᭡.

Center of attention, even the room's filled to the brim with pretty faces. Eye's the color of violets and a smile that's so striking, it could cut right through you. Just how a bright star commands everyone's admiration, Vil himself does exactly that. With beauty that's akin to a velvety rose, thorns sharp and drawing blood of the one who dares touch. He's not sure why he's so fond of you, really, it baffles him. Your constant babbling should bother him- your posture isn't perfect, you don't regularly use the products he recommends to you, and your diet could use improving.

He only recently realized the perfection of imperfection. That's what you are, like an abstract piece of art that can draw even the most elegant man's heart. Truly, you can take his breath and keep it, which is a difficult feat to accomplish. Yet, you seem to have done just that.

He doesn't like how drawn he is to you, the you who could improve so much. Nevertheless, he can't deny how his heart flutters when you ramble on and on, the words you spew seem like pearls to him. Undeniably, you've got his heart, and it bothers him.

Vil seems unreachable to you, as if he's a god and you're a follower. You can see him, but you can't touch. Everything about him is captivating- the way he moves, how he walks, how he talks, everything. You feel like a toad in front of him sometimes. Still, the reason your heart continues to flutter is not his beauty but how soft he can be. His words may be harsh, telling you to fix your posture or add a certain product to your skincare, but he means well. It used to irk you, how he pointed out your flaws, but he never touched an insecurity- it was never something you couldn't fix. Many times, he only tells you how to improve and that's in his nature. It started with you muttering curses under your breath, now all you do is give him a dopey smile as he flicks your forehead.

It's hard to love Vil, and you're sure that it's even harder to be loved by him. He's untouchable and you're not sure if he'll even spare you a glance. But, the nights you spend at his dorm, him tending to your skin as you blabber about your day. Or the few rarities when he opens up, speaking of his insecurities. It shows how human he is; how he too, can feel.

It's another night at his dorm, your skin's worsened as of late and Vil's ordered you to give him a visit. You sit at his vanity, the light's so bright that it could blind you, but what truly blinds you is Vil himself in all his glory. His dampened hair, the ends the color of wisteria, and the scent of patchouli just makes you want to melt right then and there. He strides over with a new product in his hand, carefully beginning to massage your face with it.

"I love you."

The words come out instantly, his hands stopping in motion as his violet eyes widen. A sheepish blush coats your face as you realize what you said. Your breath hitches, the fear of rejection drilling into your mind, and your heart drumming against your chest.

"That's quite bold of you, sweet potato.."

He lets out a small chuckle, eyes holding content. He leans closer before flicking you on the forehead gently.

"I love you too."

ᥫ᭡. Idia Shroud ᥫ᭡.

The buzz of video games, the stench on junk food, and an interest for oddities. Idia Shroud was a wallflower, yet you'd managed to befriend him, something he's truly grateful for- your presence. He liked you. You understood him, you never belittled him for what he enjoyed, in fact, you encouraged him to continue. No matter how good or bad you were at a game, you'd play alongside him. It didn't matter whether you enjoyed his rambles, you'd listen no matter what, before babbling on and on about something of your own interest. Nights like this, filled with games, reading manga, watching anime, and spending time with you- he never wanted these to end.

You were brave, so unlike him. You had no magic, still you managed to show courage, to fight against overblots. How he wished he was you, no, how he wished he was yours. The realization hit him like a truck in an isekai, quickly and out of nowhere. When he figured he liked you, he didn't let you anywhere near him for a week- opting to hide in his room and not leave. It took some convincing from Ortho and also the fact that you may dislike him if he ignored you, before he opened his doors for you once again. Nevertheless, he was skittish, averting his gaze from your face, and sitting on the other end of the couch when you visited. That worried you, you were sure you'd messed up big time and he became uneasy around you because of it. Thankfully everything became normal after two weeks, he was sure he wouldn't be able to recover.

The truth was, you liked him too. It was weird and something unforeseen, you both started out as friends- you'd visit his dorm, play games all night, munch on junk together, and then laugh at all the cringe characters in the current anime you both were binging on. Right now, you were experiencing that cheesy crush from a shoujo manga, and the feeling was messing with your brain.

The gloomy boy you pined for was everything but dreamy, somehow, that's what made him so charming to you. Hair an electric blue that flared up like flames, pale skin akin to porcelain, and eyes yellow like daffodils. His physicality was mesmerizing but there was so much more to his character too. He was passionate about what he enjoyed, jabbering on for hours about his interest, something that you didn't mind one bit. He was competitive, striking a triumphant grin whenever he'd win a game against you. He's prideful too, his creations making him an utter genius. At the same time, he held such emotion, a man who would never judge for he himself experienced the badmouthing of others.

There's just something about Idia, something that makes your cheeks flare up. You're not sure if he notices how his presence can make you skittish, how you become timid when he's near, and how divine he seems to you. He never notice how he makes you feel, how ironic that you become just like him when he's near.

Just like the usual, you're cooped up in his dorm alongside him. You've been binging an anime for the past few hours and the way he's so focused on the characters while you're so focused on him, it bothers you. He feels so close yet so far and the fact that you're having such thoughts about the whole situation, makes you feel stupid.

"I love you.."

You immediately pause at your own words, Idia pauses the show too. There's a long silence in the room and before you know it, Idia's moved far away from you. His hair's become an electric pink and his eyes are wide.

"W-w-w-what..!?"

He exclaims the words as if he's animated, the feeling of fluster surging throughout him. Were you playing a joke on him? This wasn't right, it couldn't be. His gaze averts the other way every time you look at him and he won't admit it, but he really hopes you're not joking.

"I love you, Idia."

You say again, softer this time and you yourself look the other way, peachy blush coating your face. You're cursing yourself for speaking up, palms sweaty and clammy. You feel dizzy and your breathing is erratic , the feeling's mutual. The room's silent again, no one says anything and the only sound either of you can hear is the buzz of the computer.

"I...I...I dove, no, love you too.."

He mutters out, fumbling his words while he does. You both look at each other, shy gaze. Your lips form a small smile, making Idia's hair flare an even brighter pink. His face is rosy and he'd rather not look at you but you're just so pretty that he can't help but look.

You're not sure how it things fell in place but he accepted your confession, and now you've somehow managed to cuddle up to him. He's stiff but that's fine, the mere fact that he's holding your hand tightly is enough to reassure you. That, and how smug he looks.

ᥫ᭡. Malleus Draconia ᥫ᭡.

Child of man, you truly are peculiar. Malleus Draconia, the name alone makes millions, if not billions, tremble to the bone. He holds such unrivaled power that the thought alone is fearsome- he is fearsome.

A monster, that's what many would call him, but you don't. No one dares approach him as carelessly as you do, a bumbling smile on your lips as you walk next to him without a care in the world. Do you truly not know what he's capable of? 'Tsunotaro', that's what you've named him- quite bold of you, not that he minds. Please continue to enlighten him about human practices, he's interested in every thing you have to say.

Loneliness is a disease that he's suffered from since his childhood. It's second nature to be alone with his own presence, silence a bandage that covers but doesn't heal his wounds. Yet, the way you come to him, invite him to all your little events, how you choose him. How can he be lonely when he has you?

You, who is so bright like a star coated in gold- is he even allowed to go near you? It feels as if you'll break in his hands, yet you seem so brave, putting yourself in danger with a smile. You've got his heart in your hands and it hurts that you don't realize.

'Friend' was a word he grew to love, knowing the special bond you shared. Nevertheless, it's the same word that has caused Diasomnia to have horrible whether for the past week- you're a friend to many but a lover to none. Be his, child of man, he's the only one worthy enough to call you his.

Since the day of his realization, Malleus follows you as a second shadow would. Now, no one with ill intentions would dare approach what he's already considered his. Truly, how precious you are. Giving him small shiny pebbles you find, trying to tuck daisies into his hair but being unable to reach his head, and the times you try to tease him as a joke, making the silliest of faces. Please tell him that he's the only one who has the honor of seeing you in such various forms. Dragons are hoarders, you know? And he wants nothing but to hoard you all for himself.

Spending time with your Tsunotaro is always fulfilling. His knowledge on gargoyles, the depth in which he speaks of them and how little he knows of human interactions. It all makes your heart flutter, eliciting a smile on your lips. It's not difficult to have feelings for someone such as him, it comes naturally. He seems so intimidating, dangerous even and it's not that he's not- he is, but there's so much more to him. He's curious, always listening to what you have to say. He's sweet, always handing you gifts whether small or unimaginably grand. And the manner in which he speaks, the elegance he holds, he's just as charming as any prince in a book- if not more.

When you began actually having feelings for him, all his words seemed to make your mind all fuzzy. Could he really not tell how his vocabulary affected you? 'My dear', 'my love', and all other forms of endearments had become a usual, so much so, that it felt right.

You went on walks with him, spotting gargoyles and chatting about them. Sometimes you drag him to picnics with and he happily follows, letting you braid his ebony hair. Still, not everything you shared seemed friend-like, and if it was, you didn't want it to be. The way his emerald eyes gazed over you, how his touch lingered so gently, and how his lips brushed agains your ear when he said he'll keep you safe. It couldn't mean nothing, you didn't want it to.

A walk in a meadow at nighttime, how strange, but also the daily for you. You walk alongside Malleus, skittish and timid- this isn't how you usually act. The moon's peeking out from under the clouds and casting a silver sheen on all that it lands on. Fireflies scurry around slowly, the cool night air making you feel at ease- but it's not enough.

Your face is flushed and you won't meet his gaze, he's not sure what he did wrong. His frame towers behind you as you seem to walk quicker, increasing your pace. Hurt, that's what he feels; did you start seeing him as a monster too?

You can't leave, please- he'll beg if he has to, give you all of what he has and can create. Promise you'll stay, and don't ever leave.

Then you pause, turning around as you take deliberate steps towards him. You look up, your smaller frame covered by his daunting shadow.

"I love you, Tsunotaro."

You say with a certain melancholy in your voice, as if you know he'll reject you and your love. How could he ever think of rejecting? He'd rather pierce his own heart and bleed to death than ever think of rejecting any of your words.

His viridescent eyes widen, the glow of them seeming intense. His hands holds you in place gently, he seems to be staring at you, looking you as if you're the most fragile piece of glass. The words don't spill out of his lips and you look more desolate by the second- he seemingly can't speak, he's not sure if this is but a dream.

"I love you too, child of man. So much that you wouldn't believe it."

His hands wrap you in a desperate embrace, almost as desperate as the words he'd just managed to choke out. It was as if you would wither away if he let go, as if he was making sure you were not a dream.

Your own eyes widen, lips parting shock at his words. The night seems magical and his embrace is sincere. He pries away from you only to look at you more, all your expressions- please continue to show such faces to only him. Only he should see you like this, with your face flushed red and eyes widened as you stare at him as though he's the only man in the world. His hands seem shaky, unlike who he usually is.

No, he seems so vulnerable and you seem to be his vulnerability.

Everything seems alright when you're there, he doesn't feel loneliness; far from it, actually. He doesn't feel like a monster when you love him, when your own arms loosely wrap around his neck as you pull him in for a soft kiss- no, monster's don't get such luxuries.

Note: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post, my blog, and reblog! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Note 2: Please reblog, even if you don't press like on the post. Reblogs help a ton more!

Note 3: I didn't expect the last part to get so much attention, thank you so much everyone. I greatly appreciate everyone's interactions with my posts! As of now, I'll be working on requests and maybe some other ideas! (I really hope this part 2 is good too)

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[requiemforthepoets]

hey, are you still there? 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: you know yourself that it’s sad that you settled on being a backburner, but you didn’t mind crisping up on lando’s backburner as long as he still think of you.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, unrequited love(?), open ending, insecurities, reader being treated as a backburner, childhood best friends, christmas angst, luisa, typos, and few grammatical errors.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i had always wanted to write this for so long, but i’m not sure how to pen it, but finally, here it is! so far, i’m satisfied. i don’t know much about luisa, but i’m sorry that luisa is kind of villainized in this 🥲 i’m sorry. this is like another christmas one shot, sooo haha i intentionally made it as an open ending bc i want to leave the ending to you, and let me apologize now bc this one shot won’t have a part 2. it just felt right for me to leave it as an open ending and leave the ending up to you. so i hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The glow of the snowy afternoon sun filtered through your apartment windows, casting long, golden shadows across the floor as you sat cross-legged amidst a pile of forgotten keepsakes.

Your plan was simple, really. To declutter, toss out what no longer sparked happiness, and finally reclaim some much-needed space in your small New York apartment. But simplicity soon faded the moment you stumbled upon a memory box that was buried beneath old blankets in the closet. You hadn’t thought about it in years, the worn out wooden edges now slightly faded, but just holding the box again made you feel something deep in your chest.

Sliding the lid of the box open, the faint scent of nostalgia greeted you. There was a mixture of paper and dust that carried you back to another time, another place. Polaroid photographs, ticket stubs, concert tickets, and tiny trinkets spilled out as you began to sift through the box’s contents, fingers brushing against fragments of a life you had once shared with someone who knew you better than anyone. Then you saw it—the camcorder.

It sat nestled at the bottom of the box, its black casing slightly scuffed but still intact, as though it had been waiting for you all these years. The sight of it made your breath catch, fingers hesitant as they wrapped around the familiar shape. A small laugh escaped you, soft and bittersweet, as a wave of memories washed over you.

The camcorder had been a gift from your parents, given to you when you were just a teen. At the time, you had rolled your eyes at the thought of having a camcorder. You were not exactly the type to obsess over gadgets or record everything, but your parents had insisted, saying something along the lines of making memories worth keeping.

You hadn’t even opened the box properly before you had told him about it. Lando had always had a thing for photography, an almost childlike fascination with capturing the world around him. Naturally, he had lit up at the mention of the camcorder. You remembered the way his face had brightened, how he had practically snatched it from your hands when he saw it, excitement radiating from him like it was Christmas morning.

“Trust me,” he said, voice brimming with certainty as he flipped the device open with ease. “This is going to be so much fun, you’ll see.”

And it was.

The camcorder had quickly become his, in everything but name. Lando had used it more than you ever had, his artistic streak shining through in the way he would capture the smallest, most mundane moments and make them feel extraordinary. But what stood out the most was his favorite subject. You.

Every time you hung out, or visited a new place, his focus would inevitably turn to you. At first, you had protested, laughing and batting the camcorder away, but over time, it became a rhythm of sorts. Lando, behind the lens, coaxing your laughter and teasing your smile, and you, rolling your eyes but secretly loving the way he saw you. Through the lens, even the quietest days seemed to feel alive.

You traced a finger along the camcorder’s edges, the faint outline of his fingerprints etched invisibly into its surface. Four years. It had been four years since you had left the UK—four years since you had left him. You told yourself that what you did was for the best, that you needed to grow, chase bigger dreams.

Part of it all was true, but the other part, the one which you didn’t say out loud, was the reason why your chest tightened even now. Was because Lando made you feel too much, and you were not sure you could bear it any longer.

You grabbed your laptop, briefly hesitated over the laptop’s keyboard before finally connecting the camcorder. The familiar chime of recognition echoed through the room as your laptop detected the device, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of nervous anticipation.

It had been years since you last thought about these videos, let alone watched them. As the files began to load, thumbnails filled the screen—tiny, burry windows into the past. You clicked on the first one, and the second is the screen lit up with a younger version of yourself, smiling awkwardly into the lens. Lando’s voice filled the room almost immediately.

“Come on, you can smile better than that!” he teased from behind the camera, chuckling.

Without even realizing it, a small smile tugged at your lips as you watched. The video playing one after another, each one showed a snapshot of your lives back then. There were clips of you on spontaneous trips—forests, city streets, karting, and endless car rides with Lando singing loudly and off-key while you laughed at him.

There were also quieter moments—rainy afternoon when you were sat by your bedroom window, lost in thought, while he filmed you from across the room, calling it aesthetic. Lando captured everything, from the highs to the lows.

The memories felt vivid, almost too vivid, as if you could reach through the screen and relieve those moments. It was the year he had started his Formula 1 career, and the first time you saw him truly chasing his dreams with everything he had, and were beyond proud of him. At the same time, it was also the year you were filling out endless applications to universities in America, unsure of where you wanted to go or what you wanted to do in life. It was like you were both standing on the edge of something new, something big, and it was both thrilling and terrifying.

It was also the year you finally admitted to yourself that what you felt for Lando was no longer just friendship. You had been so close for so long that the shift felt almost imperceptible at first—lingering glance here, flutter in your chest there. But you acknowledged it, there was no going back.

You found yourself looking at him differently, noticing the little things about him that had always been there but suddenly felt so significant. The way how his eyes crinkled when he laughed, his curly hair, aquamarine eyes, the quiet focus he had when working on something he cared about, and most of all, the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you feel better.

But you kept it to yourself. You couldn’t tell Lando, not when he had told you so casually, like it was nothing that he liked someone.

“I don’t even know if she feels the same,” he had said, voice laced with uncertainty.

For a brief moment, a hope sparked in you. Maybe after all this time, Lando felt the same way about you. Maybe this was the moment that you had finally been waiting for.

But that hope shattered almost immediately when he pulled out his phone and showed you a photo. The girl’s name was Luisa, and she was stunning. She was everything that you were not—model, successful, gorgeous, has a radiant smile and a presence that seemed magnetic. Luisa was exactly Lando’s type, and you knew it.

The realization hit you harder than you had expected. You felt dumb and foolish, for even thinking one second that Lando could ever see you that way. You were not like Luisa, you were not the kind of girl who turned heads or made people stop in their tracks. You were just…you. Lando’s best friend. The person he could have a joke with, confide in, and lean on, but will never see you anything as more.

So you stayed quiet. Buried your feelings deep, gaslighting yourself that everything was better the way it is. The less you talk, the less you risked losing him. Maybe if you kept on pretending that everything was fine, you could learn to let him go.

A new clip began to play. You were seated on the edge of a bench, face scrunched in frustration as you ran a hand through your hair. The sound of Lando’s laughter crackled through the speakers, light and teasing, as he zoomed in on your expression from behind the camera.

“You’re such a drama queen,” he said, voice laced with amusement.

It was clear that from that clip that he was trying to cheer you up. It had been one of those moments when everything felt overwhelming. Your plans, future, and feelings. Yet, even in your frustration, Lando had managed to make you laugh. He always did. Watching it now, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at how young and naïve you looked.

But the video carried more weight than just a frustration afternoon. That day, you had a front-row seat to another chapter in Lando’s pursuit of Luisa. It was the day he told you that he finally confessed his feeling to her, and you could still remember how his voice sounded. It was a mix of hope and vulnerability as he recounted every detail, but his excitement had quickly dimmed when Lando explained how his confession had met an uncertainty from Luisa, not really sure how she felt about Lando.

You remembered how that hurt him, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado. It was one of the few times you had seen Lando genuinely shaken, his confidence chipped away by a single sentence. Still, it did not stop him, if anything, it only made him more determined to win her over.

This is exactly what Lando is—relentless, persistent, unwilling to let go of something he wanted.

Then there was you, caught in the orbit of it all. A pattern had started to form, one you did not want to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore. Whenever Luisa turned her back on him, when his texts went unanswered, or her attention drifted elsewhere, Lando would always find his way to you. His calls would come late at night, voice low and tinged with sadness as he stumbled through excuses to keep you on the line, and you, despite knowing better, would always answer.

Those were the moments you chastised yourself for loving. When Lando was hurt, when he felt small and alone, he always came to you. You were the person he confided in, one he leaned on. It almost felt like you mattered to him in the way you wanted to. Even if you knew, deep down, that it was not that. That it was temporary, a band-aid for his bruised ego—you couldn’t help but savor the attention.

But then, inevitably, Luisa would give him the smallest bit of her time, and you would become invisible to him again. The calls would stop, texts would taper off, and Lando would be lost in the glow of her half-hearted affection. You would feel the ache of being left behind, sting of knowing you were nothing more than a safety net, a placeholder, a convenient fallback plan.

It was a never ending cycle you despised, one that made you look at yourself with pity as you played into it. But whether it was out of hope or some cruel sense of inevitability, you stayed. You let it happen. Time and time again, picking up the pieces when Lando fell apart, only to watch him hand them back to her the moment she glanced his way.

It was always like this. It had always been like this, and somehow, despite everything, you definitely hadn’t learned your lesson.

The video continued to play, the faint static of old footage mixing with Lando’s voice can be heard, his laughter like a distant echo from another life. As you watched yourself on the screen—smiling, frowning, existing in a world where everything felt so much simpler—memories came rushing back, faster and heavier than you had expected. They were not just simple memories of moments, they were reminders of how deeply you felt, how much your life revolved around Lando without you even realizing it.

Your feelings for him had always been the silent undercurrent of your friendship, unspoken but ever-present. You had spent so much time trying to convince yourself that it was just a phase, that you would grow out of it, but you never did.

Instead, those feelings rooted themselves deeper, becoming a part of you. You wondered if the reason you hadn’t moved on was not because you could not, but because you hadn’t really tried at all. Maybe you were afraid, maybe life felt easier when you let it stay messy, undefined—when you clung to the hope that Lando might see you differently someday.

But the reality of it all was far less romantic. You had become his backburner, a place he turned to only when he had nowhere else to go, and the most pathetic part? You didn’t even mind. You let yourself burn quietly on his backburner, knowing full well you would never be the main thing in his life.

No matter how many times you say to yourself that it was okay, that you could handle it, deep down it ate you. There wasn’t anyone else you wanted, there hadn’t been for years. It was always him, it will always be Lando—his laugh, his voice, his stupid smile that made you forget the pain he caused by just being himself. You hated it, and yet you couldn’t even let it go.

Your memory reeled in to that one particular night, a night etched into your memory like a scar. Lando had called you on facetime, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone. His eyes were red, voice trembling with raw emotions as he told you what happened with Luisa.

She had hurt him again, made him feel small in a way that he couldn’t quite put into words. Lando looked so broken, so unlike himself, that it made your heart twist in ways that you did not want to admit.

And yet, you couldn’t help but tease him. You told him how he looked ugly when he cried, masking your own hurt with humor. But inside, there was a flicker of something else—something cruel and selfish. You felt happy that he thought of you in that moment, that you were the person he called when everything else in his life fell apart. It was sick and twisted, and you couldn’t have hated yourself more for it, but it was the truth.

At the same time, you felt conflicted, torn between two versions of yourself. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt you by treating you like an afterthought. But the other part of you, the part that still believed in him, in the friendship you had shared since you were kids—wanted to comfort him, to be there for him even if it meant breaking yourself in the process.

You always knew how it would go. In a week or so, Lando would be back on his feet, back in Luisa’s orbit, and you would fade into the background again. He would stop calling, texting, and you would be left alone again, waiting for the next time he needed you. You wished you could stop caring, that you could let him go and just move on, but you couldn’t. You cared too much, loved him too deeply, and it was destroying you.

You stayed. You stayed because even though it hurt, even though it made you feel small and invisible, there was still a part of you that believed in him. In the boy who had once held your camcorder, laughing as he filmed you spinning in circles in the park. In the friend who had always been there, even when it felt like the rest of the world wasn’t. You believed in him, even if it meant you couldn’t believe in yourself.

You checked the timestamp on the video and realized it was nearing the end. The final clips began to play, taking you back to a day you remembered so clearly—the beach trip. The screen filled with bright sunlight and sand, camera jerking slightly as Lando filmed you running along the shoreline, wearing one of his bucket hats and sunglasses, your laughter ringing out over the crashing waves.

You watched yourself as if through someone else’s eyes—carefree, alive, darting back and forth like a puppy with boundless energy. Lando’s voice came from behind the camera, teasing you for your antics, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the memory.

It was one of those days you had hoped would change everything. Lando wasn’t thinking about Luisa then. He was with you, laughing, joking, making you feel like maybe you mattered more to him than you let yourself believe. You had clung to that slight flicker of hope every time he drifted back into your orbit, telling yourself that the moments he spent with you would eventually outweigh the hold Luisa had over him. But you know then, deep down, you knew better. You had always known better.

The last clip began to play. The two of you were in one of his cars, the camera shakily capturing the scene as he handed it to you. Lando had insisted you try driving it, grinning with the kind of reckless confidence that was so quintessentially him. You know that he hated someone driving him, especially that it was his car, but he didn’t even hesitated when it came to you.

The video was cut to him standing outside, filming you through the windshield as you tried to maneuver his car into a parking spot, and it was a disaster. He zoomed in on your face, flushed and irritated, as you waved frantically at him to get back inside of his car and help you. Your lips moved as you shouted something at him, your expression twisted in mock anger, but it only made him laugh.

That sound, the sound of his laughter—echoed through the room as you watched yourself scowling at him, completely oblivious to how the moment would look years later.

When the video finally faded to black, you sat there in silence, staring at the black screen of your laptop. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as a sad smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. The memories left a bittersweet feeling in their wake, filling your chest with an ache that never really went away.

You always knew the truth. You would always be in Lando’s corner, even when it felt like he had forgotten you existed. You would stay, waiting in the shadows, knowing full well you were his second choice, or maybe not even a choice at all. Yet, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care, you had settled on being Lando’s backburner long ago, content to exist where he had placed you, because even the smallest scraps of his attention felt like more than you deserved. You knew it would never be enough, but it was all you had.

When you left the UK, you had never properly said goodbye to Lando. You couldn’t face him—not after everything. It had been the hardest thing you had ever done, leaving the place where you grew up and leaving the person that mattered to you the most.

The day you were about to board the plane to America was supposed to be the start of something new for you. But it also turned out to be the same day Lando and Luisa had finally gotten together. It didn’t make sense at first, you had been too wrapped up in your own plans to notice anything strange.

You were so focused on your own future, dreams, and adventure that lay ahead. But the moment you realized what had really happened, the gut-wrenching truth hit you all at once. Despite everything, despite all the years of friendship, despite the deep feelings you had kept buried, Lando had never said a word to you.

The first sign came two weeks before your departure, when you noticed he had not contacted you. Not once. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had spoken, and then, one evening, it hit you. While youwere scrolling through instagram, lost in the sea of photos and videos, you saw it.

Lando and Luisa standing together in a sunlit paradise. They were everywhere—clinging to each other, smiling like they had always been this happy. Their arms wrapped around each other, looking like the couple everyone thought they were meant to be, living out the kind of romance you had always imagined for yourself—only, it was not with you.

It stung more that you could have imagined. It felt like a cruel grip and punch to the stomach—seeing them together, seeing him in a way you never thought you would. There they were, living life, having fun in Dubai, while you had been silently fading into the background, unable to say anything, unable to be anything more than just a shadow.

It suddenly made the decision easier for you. Maybe it was petty, or childish. But at that moment, it felt like it was the only way to protect yourself. You didn’t need to say goodbye, or talk to him again. You didn’t think that talking or saying goodbye to him would even change anything. You didn’t want to face the truth anymore—didn’t want to admit how much it hurts to be forgotten, be pushed aside while he moved on.

So, you did what you had to do. You packed up everything, every piece of your life that had been tangled with Lando’s, and left. You left without a word, without any explanation. The silence between you felt so final, so complete, as if you were never even meant to matter.

When you landed in America, you didn’t waste any second. You changed your number, blocked him on social media, deleted every trace of him from your phone, from your mind, from your life. It was easier that way, right? No more reminders of what you could never have. No more wondering if he still thought about you. It was better to start fresh, even if starting over meant leaving everything you knew behind. You never looked back, at least that’s what you told yourself.

You gently closed your laptop, the soft click of the screen snapping shut, and disconnected the camcorder. You wanted to throw it away, erase it from your life entirely, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the hope that one day, you could look at it without all the pain attached to it, or maybe it was the attachment to something that had once meant so much.

With a deep sigh, you placed it back in the memory box, careful not to let it settle to heavily among the other momentos you had packed away. You knew you wouldn’t be able to part with it—not yet at least. Instead, you pushed the box deeper into your storage room, where it would sit quietly for now, out of sight but never far from your mind.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the box as if it might somehow speak to you, but all it did was remain silent, like everything else in your life that you had tried to put behind you. The soft sound of snow falling outside caught your attention, and you moved toward the window, your gaze drawn to the soft flurry of while blanketing the streets below.

Christmas was approaching in just a week, and for a brief moment, you wished you could go home, back to your family, to the familiar comfort of the holiday season. But the thought quickly passed. Home felt too far now, and you had your own life to navigate, a life in New York that, for all its challenges, had become a place you had grown to love.

You turned away from the window and began to change, pulling on warm clothes fit for the snow outside. It wasn’t much, just a quick errand to stock up on groceries before it got too dark. You didn’t mind the task, it gave you a reason to get out, to take in the city and its wintry charm. The air was fresh and crisp as you made your way out of your apartment, locking the door behind you with a soft click.

The world around you was calm as you stepped out into the quiet of the snowy streets, snowflakes falling gently around you, almost like a veil between you and the hustle of city life. New York felt different in the winter, quieter somehow, even as the holiday decorations began to shine brighter. Streetlights casting long shadows across the snow, and you admired the festive cheer that the city wore like a second skin. You had seen the Christmas tree lighting at the New Haven Green just last week, a tradition that always brought a sense of warmth despite the chill in the air.

Walking through the snow, you felt a small sense of contentment, something you had been searching for but hadn’t fully realized was within reach. The lights, crisp air—all of it made you feel like you had carved out a space of your own here. You hoped that it would stay that way, that the peace you had found wouldn’t be disturbed, even as the holiday season and all its chaos loomed on the horizon.

The grocery store was just a few blocks away, but your thoughts drifted to other things—nothing too heavy, just the soft hum of city life. It had been a peaceful walk, but then, you froze.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of something, or rather someone, someone so familiar in the distance. Curly hair that you could picture in your sleep. At first, you thought it was a trick of the light, a resemblance that your mind conjured up after hours of rewatching old videos. You quickly dismissed the thought, trying to shake it off. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be here.

But then, as if the universe had conspired to pull the past back into your life. The person looked up, and everything in your world stopped. It was him.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. The air around you seemed to thicken, sounds of the city dimming in the background as you took in the sight of him. Lando. In New York. Of all places he can be in right now, why was he here?

It had taken a long time to convince yourself, year after year, that you were fine, that you had moved on, that everything was better this way. Yet here he was, standing only a few meters away from you, the same familiar figure that had been a part of your life for so long.

You both stood there, frozen in place, just staring at each other as people around passed you by. Neither of you moved, as if the moment held too much weight to let anything else happen. It was like time had bent around you, your mind racing, questions swirling, but none of them found their way to your lips. You couldn’t speak, you weren’t even sure you could breathe.

Lando stood there too, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that everything else feel irrelevant. You knew he hadn’t expected to see you. Not here, not like this. Yet, there he was—right in front of you, a ghost from your past made flesh, making the familiar ache in your chest resurface.

You had thought you were done with him, that you had moved on, but standing here, with him so close and yet so far, you realized that maybe you had not moved on as much as you thought.

The world around you seemed to hold its breath.