#but again none of these are final I'm just having fun

[fivestaralien]

cinnamon chai's and unexpected meetings

-> non idol!changbin x gn!reader

warnings+”: none! fluff

word count: 3036

notes ִֶָ ࣪˖ its finally here!!! stays secret gift exchange!! thank you so much for creating this and having me be apart of something so fun!! @starlostastronaut I had a lot of fun doing this!! I had May @minniebbang !! I tried so hard to fit a little bit of angst but I couldn't figure out how to write it into this so for that I am sorry but I really hope you like this little guy. July has been such a bad month for me medically so I'm sorry if this feels a bit rushed. I didn't want to let anyone down and tried to write something fun while going through the absolute most physically and mentally. pls let me know what you think and if I missed anything!! as always please stay safe and take care of yourselves<3

//

 The heat is coming down hard when you park at the new cafe you’ve been meaning to try. You wipe at your forehead and quickly make your way inside. Air conditioning envelopes you the second you walk in and you welcome it with open arms. The atmosphere is cozy and the decorations are fun and adorable. Nothing over the top but just enough to feel inviting. 

 It’s packed to the brim with people and almost all of the tables were taken. You look at the menu as you wait in line and then after about fifteen minutes you finally get to order. After the barista puts your drink in you try to spot an open seat to wait. 

 You spot a table with a couple open seats. Someone sits there with their back facing you, hood pulled over their head. A few seconds of contemplation later, you carefully maneuver your way over. 

 “Sorry to bother but do you mind if I sit here while I wait for my order?” 

 Your heart skips a beat when the stranger looks up to meet your eyes. His dark black hair falls just above the rim of his glasses, eyes curious yet cautious as he looks you over. He then reaches up to remove his earphones and you realize he didn’t hear so you ask him again. 

 “Mind if I sit while I wait?” You point to the chair. 

 “Not at all.” He sends you a small smile then puts his earphones back in. 

 You thank him and then scroll through your phone until your order is called. Thanking the man again, you get your drink and then leave to go back home. 

-

 The next day you find yourself coming back and it is just as packed, if not even more. Only out of curiosity do you glance over at the table you sat at yesterday. To your surprise you see the same man sitting there, hood up just the same too. You take the risk and walk up to his table again after ordering the same drink as yesterday.

 “Hi,” the man looks up from his notebook with a surprised look on his face, “can I sit here again?”

 “Of course,” he looks out the window then back at you, “what did you order?” 

 You’re surprised by the question but perk up at the fact that you don’t have to sit here awkwardly while you wait. 

 “I got the cinnamon chai. What about you?” 

 “Iced americano. Are the chai’s good? I’ve been wanting to try and branch out of my basic order.” 

 You smile,” I think they are! The subtle spice keeps me coming back.”

 He hums in response then begins writing something in the notebook laid out in front of him. You glance down at it to see a bunch of different work out plans scribbled down. When you look back up you take the opportunity to really look at him. 

You could tell just by looking at his back earlier that he worked out. His hoodie doing little to hide the way his biceps bugle against the fabric. You look out the window before he could catch you staring and then you hear your order being called in the mix of a few others and stand up. 

 “Thanks for letting me sit with you again. Sorry that I keep disrupting.” 

 “You aren’t and I don’t mind.” He smiles up at you. 

 -

 All of last night, you couldn’t stop thinking about the man at the coffee shop. How kind he was to you even though you for sure were bothering him. His curly hair was always a little messy but in a cute way. Even his voice caught you by surprise by how velvety and deep it is. 

 You weren’t able to go back for the next couple of days and when you do eventually find yourself walking through the tall doors, your eyes immediately go to the left corner. To your disappointment the table is empty. So, after you get your order you leave. 

-

 Your head is pounding as you walk into the cafe a few days later. Nothing sounded better than a hot chai so that’s exactly what you ordered. Since the weather is a lot cooler today you needed to warm up a bit. 

 It’s busy as always so you look for a certain table and hide the smile that tries to shine when you see him sitting there in his usual hoodie. Before you could even say anything he looks over his shoulder, a sparkle in his eyes as they meet yours that nearly makes you trip over yourself. Suddenly your headache is nowhere to be seen. 

 “Need a place to sit?” He smirks up at you. 

 “Only if you don’t mind?” 

 “Course not.” 

 Instead of sitting adjacent to him like you usually would, you decide to be a little bold and sit across from him. When you sit down you notice an iced chai placed in front of him. The condensation dripping down the sides makes you think he has been here for a while. 

 “What did you get this time?” You ask, gesturing to the half empty drink. 

 “The cinnamon chai. It took me a minute to get used to the flavor but I am really enjoying it.” 

 The excitement on your face says it all, “I’m glad I could help expand your flavor palate.”

 He laughs then takes a sip of his drink, not once breaking eye contact. You look out the window to try and calm your racing heart and see giant rain clouds looming over the area. A few seconds later it starts pouring rain and lightning strikes not too far. The thunder booms soon after, making you jump a little. 

 “You okay?” The man asks, eyebrow slightly furrowed. 

 You nod your head and then look to the pick up counter as your order is called, “just wasn’t expecting it. I wish I had brought my umbrella.” 

 “Here,” he reaches down a little and pulls out an umbrella, “use mine. I have an extra one in my car.” 

 “Are you sure?” 

 “Yeah don’t worry about it.” He smiles at you as he passes the umbrella to you. 

 “How will I get this back to you?” You ask after standing up. 

 He turns slightly in his seat, resting his elbow casually on the back of his chair, a playful smile etched onto his face, “guess you’ll have to come back tomorrow.” His confidence leaves you startled and you can tell he is enjoying how flustered you are getting. 

 “I guess I will.” Your voice is a little shaky so you clear your throat, "I'm Y/N by the way. I don't think we have formally introduced ourselves. 

 He stands up and extends his arm out, leaving his hand open for you to shake. You're not surprised by the rough feeling of callouses but you are surprised by how gentle his grip is. 

 “Changbin.” His smile is so effortless it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

-

 The rain is even worse the next day and you once again forgot your own umbrella. You are so grateful for Changbins’ umbrella that is sitting on your passenger's seat as you pull up to the cafe. Quickly you make your way inside, shaking the umbrella and closing it before passing through the doors. 

 Changbin is at your usual table and heat rushes up your neck when you see two drinks in front of him. Just from the color alone you know it’s your usual and it makes you like him more than you already do. It’s crazy to you how fast you have caught feelings when it’s only your fourth time being around him. Something about how kind and easy going he is pulls you to want to learn more and more. 

 “You didn’t have to get me a drink.” You voice when pulling out your chair and sitting across from him. 

 “I didn’t, this one is also for me.” The glint in his eyes tells you he’s kidding but you decide to play along. 

 “Oh, and here I thought you were trying to woo me.” 

 Changbin lights up at the implication,” would it be wrong if I was?” 

 “No.” You take a sip of your drink to try and hide your smile. 

 The both of you chatted for what felt like hours. Talking about the small things at first and eventually getting into the deeper things. Changbin never pushed too far if you didn’t feel like sharing and vice versa. It had been a while since you were able to be so open with someone and it felt good. 

 You learn that he is a personal trainer and does music producing on the side for fun. He has a few close friends that he hangs out with often and he is really close to his family, which you really liked. In your past relationship, your partner always talked badly about their friends and family just because, which never sat right with you. 

 Changbin tells you about his past relationship briefly. He fell first and fell harder but she just strung him along until she found someone else. Since then he has been trying to better himself and focus on finding someone who wants the same things as him. 

 “What kind of things would that be? You know, for research purposes.” 

 Changbin huffs out a laugh, “someone who is kind and honest, respectful towards others and definitely has a good sense of humor. Someone to help me expand my drink palate wouldn’t hurt either.”

 Your stomach flutters. 

 “What about you? What do you look for?” He throws the question right back at you. 

 “I don’t like my time being wasted so knowing what you want is pretty important. Someone who doesn’t take themselves too seriously, but knows when to tone it down and is able to have serious conversations. I also want someone who is honest. I’ve had my fair share of liars and I don’t tolerate those kinds of people anymore.” 

 Changbin listens intently, nodding his head along with everything you’re saying. He can’t help but get a little excited over the similarities between the both of you. You are definitely his type and hearing what you are looking for just solidifies to him that he wants to get to know you better. 

 “Stop me if I am reading things wrong,” Changbin takes a breath before asking, “but, would you maybe want to go out sometime? You know, outside of this cafe.” 

 “I’d really like that actually.” You confess way too quickly.

 By the time you are getting ready to leave you exchange numbers.The rain is still coming down heavily so Changbin tells you not to worry about giving his umbrella back and opens the door for you when you both exit. He gently takes the umbrella from your hand, holding it above your head for you as he walks you to your car. 

 “Thank you for the drink and walking me to my car. You didn’t have to do that.” You smile at him while taking the umbrella back. 

 “Of course and no need to thank me. I wanted to. I’ll see you on Sunday then?”

 You nod, “yeah. Now hurry and go back inside before you get soaked!”

 Changbin laughs and you wave goodbye after getting into your car. You wait until he dips back into the cafe to finally make your way out of the parking lot and back home, your stomach fluttering the entire drive. 

-

 The weather is finally clearing up and you are almost to the bowling alley you and Changbin had agreed to meet at. The two of you had been texting non stop since you last saw him and your heart felt so full. You’ve never had such an easy time getting to know someone. The conversations flow so easily and a few days ago he suggested taking you out for a first date. 

 Of course you couldn’t say no and when you were throwing date ideas back and forth, you decided that bowling could be really fun. Which leads you to where you are now. Your heart beats out of your chest when you see Changbin leaning against his car, waiting for you. He looks up from his phone when you park across from him and he instantly has a smile on his face. 

 “Hey! You look really pretty.” He states. 

 “What? Shut up.” You lightly hit his bicep and look down as you feel heat rushing up your neck. 

 He looks you up and down with a soft smile, “I never say something I don’t mean. Come on, let's go inside.” 

 You follow him into the building and are immediately met with loud noises and the smell of food. Changbin pays for a lane and you both get your shoes and bowling balls before walking over to it. You watch as he is about to put your names but then he turns towards you. 

 “Do you want to go first?” 

 “Oh no, you should probably go first. I wouldn't want to intimidate you with my skills.” You tease. 

 Changbin's eyes light up and he lets out a small laugh. He turns back to the little tablet to put your name first and his second. 

 “Come on then. Show me what you got.” 

 Your first turn you bowl is a strike. Looking back at Changbin you can tell he is not going to go easy on you. When he takes his first turn he also gets a strike and the competitiveness in the both of you lights up. 

 “Want to make a bet? Make this more interesting?” He suggests and you don’t think twice before nodding. 

 “The loser has to pay for ice cream after.” 

 He puts his hand out for you to shake to make a deal and you gladly take it. His hand is just like you remember. Rough in some places but somehow still soft. It’s your turn next and you hit nine pins but easily come back by making it a spare. 

 Changbin gets another strike and you wanted to rub that smug look off of his face the second he turned around to walk back. You get up and purposefully brush your shoulder against him, lightly knocking him to the side and your heart flutters at the sound of his laugh. 

 “Playing dirty I see.” 

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You flip your hair over your shoulder and get ready for your next turn. 

 Back and forth you both get strikes and spares and by the time there is only one round left you are beating Changbin by three points. 

 You hold the ball up to your chest and right before you could wind it back, you feel a warm presence suddenly behind you. Changbin leans near your ear, “good luck.” Then he walks back to the booth seat. You stand there, rigid for a few seconds then take a deep breath. 

 After you release the ball, you hold your breath as it starts to curve slightly and then smile when you hit all the pins down. Changbin is still standing behind you, ball  in hand. You already know that there is no way for him to win, but his determination as he rolls the ball perfectly is really attractive. He knocks down all buy one and easily throws for a spare. 

 He walks back with a knowing look on his handsome face and you can't help but laugh a little bit.

 “So ice cream on you then?” You playfully tease and your heart warms at his smile. 

 “I wouldn’t have let you pay for it anyway.” 

 You roll your eyes and then follow him to give your bowling shoes back. Changbin holds the door open for you and then you make your way over to an ice cream shop in his car, which was just down the street. It’s a cute little corner shop that has a lot of colorful decor. The line isn’t too long and Changbin asks which flavor you would like. You look at the options and tell him which one and then he asks for you to find a seat while he waits in line. There weren't that many tables so the only ones available that you could see were outside and you didn’t feel like being outside alone. 

 “I don’t mind waiting with you.” You smile up at him. 

 Changbin smiles back easily, “How long have you been bowling? You are way too good for that to be your first few times at least.” 

 “I used to go with my family a lot. It was something that everyone enjoyed so it was an easy thing to get us all together. What about you?” 

 “My friends and I have been going for years. I also just love bowling.” He tells you and then you are next to order. 

 After getting your respective ice creams, Changbin holds the door open, letting you lead the way to pick which table you want to sit at. Once settled you get straight back into your previous conversation and before you know it, it’s nearly ten pm. Your ice creams are gone and the smiles never leave your faces. 

 “How are you feeling? Are you cold?” Changbin asks after seeing you slightly shiver. 

 “Oh, maybe a little but I’m fine, really.” 

 Changbin shakes his head before slightly jogging to his car. You watch as he pulls his signature hoodie from the backseat and you nearly faint. He comes back and instead of just handing it to you, he carefully places it around your shoulders. 

 “Thank you.” Your voice is quiet and cheeks warm.

 “Of course,” he looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes, “I’ve had a really good time tonight.” 

 “Me too. Thank you by the way, for paying for everything. You really didn’t have to.” 

 “Stop that. You don’t have to keep thanking me. I wanted to and hopefully I can do it in the future too.” Changbin looks at his hands sheepishly. His cheeks also heating up a little. 

 You wait until he looks up at you to answer, “I’d really like that.”

//

main masterlists , skz masterlist

[shelleyminx]

this was written for @corrodedcoffinfest Media Mania

Picture This

Prompt Day 31: Closing Time | Word Count: 901 | Rating: G | CW: none | POV: Outsider | Pairing(s): Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington | Tags: Eddie has a crush on Steve, Chrissy as Corroded Coffin's manager, end of tour blues/joy, Steve and Robin are two menaces (and sweethearts), all of them are just dreamy young people and I think that's beautiful

Summary:

Corroded Coffin releases many albums, goes on tour, become the main characters of rock n' roll controversies as bands do. But decades later, one specific picture appears on the preface of their photo biography.

One that only exists because of a ridiculous idea and a hot stranger willing to go ahead with it and make it even greater.

Eddie tackles Doug onto the floor and they both gasp when Gareth adds himself to the pile of people. Jeff doesn't seem convinced to join in, but Chrissy gives him a light shove and he lets his own body fall, the four of them kinda laughing as they roll to the side, lying on the stage they just made the last show of their first national tour. The venues are not that big, but it's fulfilling, a sense of dream coming true tucked under layers of hard work, traveling in an uncomfortable bus, eventually sharing motel rooms. It's amazing anyway. The sold out date tonight left them with a burning hope that there will be a next album, another tour, a lifetime of this. They're exhausted, but so happy it's hard to leave the place and pop up the bubble.

“Man, I want to climb that!” Eddie laughs, pointing to the theatrical hardware that holds multiple lightning equipment.

“You don't!” Chrissy, their former classmate and now tour manager answers, eyes widening.

“Uh-” a guy enters the stage. Not someone they know, probably around their age, wearing a plain black shirt tucked under his jeans. He doesn't look like a staff member either. “They're not here!” he shouts at someone backstage “Yeah, I'll let you. Have you tried the back entrance? You know these rock dudes… They just vanish.”

The five at the stage trade suspicious looks. Unknown guy starts picking up stuff like used water bottles and setlist papers and throwing them in a trash bag.

“This might've got you guys some more twenty minutes. Then you have to go, I'm sorry.” he keeps his work, never minding their excitement.

“I doubt it would break just with my weight!” Eddie continues, despite the others' silence.

“It wouldn't. But I don't recommend climbing there. You'll be seen by the lightning guys and probably get a fine.” Trash guy says.

“Hey, you're like a security guy or something?” Jeff inquires, analyzing the way he's dressed; not rock n’ roll at all.

“My dad owns the place. And we're closing, but you seem to be enjoying some last minutes with the stage, so. Have your fun, just don't break anything.”

“Can I like… Pretend to be climbing? If one of you guys give me a hand I'll be able to reach it and we can take a picture and-”

“No. Chance. My shoulder is fucked.” Doug is still lying on the floor, facing the stage turned off lights. Jeff doesn't even bother answering.

“Oh… It would be a cool picture, though.” Chrissy pouts “Gar?”

“Don't Gar me, Chris. I can't and won't lift this sack of bones. Take a normal picture instead.”

“I can do it.” Son-Of-Someone interjects, uninterested. “It seems like a cool photo to have.”

Eddie rolls on the floor and finally looks at him. Tall, broad shoulders, athletic, All-American-Hot-Type. Chrissy jumps excitedly.

“Thanks! What's your name again?” she asks, offering a hand for him to shake.

“Steve.” He smiles charmingly at her, but it's Eddie's stomach that begins to flutter.

“No need to worry, man. I was just joking-” he starts, desperately trying to get himself out of a possible crush and to go back to his post-concert euphoria.

“It's nothing. Actually… Wait here!” and he runs yelling something that sounds like Bob or Rob or whatever before coming back with a girl on his tow.

“Father Harrington is gonna kill you if he hears about this.” she sighs.

“Father Harrington always wants to kill me either way, might as well give him some reason.” He shrugs “Okay, figure out a cool pose or something.” He turns back to the band “You too! Robin will take the picture for you, join them!” Chrissy shyly gives Robin her camera and the others discuss what they should do.

“Hi. You're… Ed, right?” Steve approaches casually, smiling like he's hiding something. Eddie thanks every God for his lack of blushing.

“Yeah, Eddie.” He's still wondering how to greet this handsome stranger when he's interrupted.

“Cool, Eddie. Hop on.” Eddie thanks every God because no one is paying attention when he actually blushes because this stranger is pointing at his own back.

Their pose is kinda stupid. Doug and Jeff hold Chrissy up in their arms and she laughs, surprised. Gareth Kneels in front of them, making Devil horns with both his hands and sticking his tongue out. Eddie climbs on Steve's shoulder and pretends to be trying to reach the hardware with a hand while making devil horns with the other and opening a devilish smile. Robin takes their picture then asks them to hold on.

Corroded Coffin releases many albums, goes on tour, becomes the main characters of rock n' roll controversies as bands do. But decades later, this picture appears on the preface of their photo biography.

She does something they can't see in the back of the stage and two canons shoot bright colorful pieces of paper at them, just like it happened at the end of their last song. Shocked, everyone but Steve looks kinda marveled at the beauty of it and Robin shoots a picture that showcases their spontaneous joyous faces. Steve is smiling with a knowing look, while Eddie looks up to the paper, Gareth falls to the floor laughing in shock, Chrissy is on the verge of tears.

What a way to close. What a way to start.

A/N: and that's it for Corroded Coffin Fest 2025! What an honor it was to participate!!! Joining this fest gave me the courage to post some of my writing, read amazing fics and get a lot more love than I ever thought I would!!!! My first fic for the fest was about pre-concert jitters, so nothing more fitting than the last being about post-concert joy.

I hope you guys enjoyed this little thingy! Immense thanks to the CCfest organizers, writers and readers. I hope I can see you on the pocket events and on the next edition!

[mrsjjongstby]

I'm so proud of my ex - P.SH

You met Park Sunghoon in your hometown — a quiet coastal place. What started as friendship turned into something more. You had dreams outside that town — dreams he understood, even as they quietly pulled you apart. Now, years later, you’re back for your best friend’s wedding as the maid of honour. You didn’t expect to see him as the best man of the wedding. And even after all this time, maybe… you’re still his favourite what if.

starring: ex!sunghoon x f!reader | wc: ⸻ 5.48k | tw: exes to what?! second chances, angst, hurt, comfort, suggestive (if u squint hard enough), mentions of skin ship, kisses, (let me know if i missed anything)

The streets are still warm. 

The walls absorbed the last of your gasps and groans. Sunghoon’s fingers traced your bare back- slow and unhurried like he wanted to save the remnants of you that were already slipping away. 

You were lying on the bed, both of your minds elsewhere but hands tightly around eachother. None of you really tried to break the silence knowing the weight the air held.  

You were leaving in the morning.  He knew.  You knew. 

But here, in his bed, beneath the familiar hum of your hometown’s crickets and the faint buzz of the air conditioner, it almost didn’t feel real. 

“You’re not sleeping, baby.” he murmured, voice thick with something heavier than sleep. 

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because if you spoke, you’d cry. 

So instead, you turned toward him — eyes glassy in the dark and pressed your forehead against his. His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing a tear you hadn’t noticed had fallen. 

“I wish things were different,” you whispered. 

And Sunghoon smiled — that soft, broken smile he only ever gave when he was trying not to fall apart. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.” 

"Stay." he whispered, forehead pressed to yours, like he was praying. Like if he held you close enough, you might change your mind. 

Your hands trembled where they cupped his jaw.  “I can’t,” you whispered back, even softer. “You know I can’t.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes searched yours like they were looking for an answer that wasn’t there. “We could make it work, sweets." 

You smiled — broken, knowing and traced your thumb across his cheek. “You hate cities, Hoon. You hate crowds. You’d lose yourself there. And I… I already have a future planned out there.” 

The silence that followed was thick. Final. 

He didn’t ask you again. And you didn’t apologize.  There were no screaming fights, no dramatic exits.  Just two people who loved each other… but loved their futures more. 

You kissed him one last time. Long. Slow. Like a goodbye stitched into your bones. 

And when you pulled away, he said it — the line that would haunt you every time you rolled over in bed and found empty space. 

“I’ll wait for you, you know.” 

But you never asked him to. And he never promised how long. 

But that was 3 years ago. Now, you’ve moved to the city, landed your dream job — the one you’d dreamed of all through high school — made new friends, tried new things, and thrived in your new city life. 

And about your dating game? Well, lets just say it wasn't that interesting. After sunghoon, you went on multiple dates, each with a hope of finding the one but those all came crashing when you realized no matter what, sunghoon had your whole heart back in the hometown with him. 

Sure, you moved places, and made a new life around you but you never truly moved on from sunghoon. Sunghoon was like a stubborn keeper of your heart — guarding every inch, never letting anyone else in. 

And so, you stopped trying. You immersed yourself in work, friends and fun. You didnt dare go near the relationship zone because you knew, even if you somehow managed to like someone, you’ll always compare them with sunghoon. You'll draw similarities between them. dissect every single thing they'd do and wonder if sunghoon would do the same. 

But besides those random breakdowns and the constant ache in your heart for sunghoon, your life went pretty smoothly. No interesting events, no big surprises.  

Well that was until, your childhood bestfriend, Emily informed you that she’s getting married to her long term boyfriend andrew- the one who you used to pick up fights over who emily loves more, the one who used to tease you like there was no end and the one who was like your older brother who you never had. 

They both were quite literally your second parents. Always taking you around, being overly clingy infront of you and moreover treating you like a thirdwheel you were. No matter how many times you fake vomited at their pda, you truly hoped that everything good came their way.  

So it was no surprise they were getting married, it was also no surprise that emily asked for you to be her maid of honour. And now, unless and until you were dumb in the head, youd say no- but you arent so, obviously you agreed while on a FaceTime call where she had fake tears and a real engagement ring. 

“If your loving fiancé doesn’t cry while you’re walking down the alter then you bet I'm going to trip him into the sand.”  

You say grinning while sitting on your bed with your suitcase getting filled with cloths you are packing as your phone’s tripod while on a video call with your best friend, Emily. 

"Oh he'll cry," Emily replied laughing. "He cried when we were testing the wedding cake. He's emotionally unstable and madly in love- exactly how I like him"  

You laughed shaking your head as you tossed a bikini in the mix. "God, I miss this. You. The ocean. Fresh air." 

"You'll be here tomorrow!" she said with a bright grin in her voice. "We'll go to the beach, take ugly photos, get lemonades and oh! go to our favourite library-  

"Where the librarian absolutely hates us cause we end up being too loud" You cut her off grinning and closed the suitcase with a huff. 

“I can’t wait.” You flopped onto the bed with a sigh. “Three whole days of early sunrises, salty hair, and wedding duties. You'll have me and your emotionally unstable husband will have his best man and- wait, you never told me who the best man is?"  

There was a beat of silence on her end.  

It stretched for over a second. 

A second too dangerous.  

You frown as you turn and lay on your stomach as you look up at her- her face in your phone. You narrow your eyes at her as she smiles sheepishly.  

“…What did you do.” 

“Nothing!” she said quickly. Too quickly. Then: “Okay—listen, don’t freak out.” 

You sat up slowly. “Ok, spill it Emily Confer" 

Another pause. Then, in one breath: 

“Sunghoon’s coming.” 

Silence. 

Your eyes blinked once. Then twice. 

“I’m sorry. What?” 

“He’s the best man,” she said carefully. “I thought I told you.” 

“You did not tell me that.” You stared at your open suitcase like it had personally betrayed you. “You told me this would be a chill, healing beach wedding. No stress. No drama. No—exes.” 

“Okay but you like drama,” she tried. 

“Not when the drama is six feet tall with broad shoulders and a jawline sculpted by Poseidon himself.” 

She had the audacity to laugh. 

“I thought you said you were over him?” 

You clear your throat, you were over him- of course you were... of course you dont think about that one time where you tripped while chasing Sunghoon on the beach and hurt your ankle to which he felt so guilty and he carried you all the way back to your house while apologizing over and over with words and kisses.  

Hah. Of course you dont think about that- you dont think about him.  

"I am...over him" You say looking everywhere except her. 

She raised her eyebrow, "You don't sound so confident." 

“You invited my ex to your wedding!” you argued. 

“He’s the groom’s best friend!" she argued back 

You groan and fall back on the bed again, at this point its a wonder how your phone is standing up with falling down due to your unhinged movements.  

“You’re so dramatic.” 

“YOU INVITED MY EX TO A ROMANTIC BEACH WEDDING.” 

“...You said you were over him!” 

“I am over him!” you snapped, pacing across the room now. “I am one hundred percent, absolutely, spiritually, emotionally—” 

You paused. Sighed. 

“...Eighty-seven percent over him.” 

“Aha.” 

“Don’t ‘aha’ me.” 

“Aha,” she said again. “Just say you're still in love with him and we’ll plan the seating chart accordingly.” 

You groaned dramatically and fell face-first into your bed. “I am not still in love with Park Sunghoon.” 

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. The silence was judgmental enough. 

“I’m not!” 

“Mhm.” 

“I’m not in love with him,” you repeated, lifting your head just enough to breathe. “I just occasionally check his Instagram. For closure.” 

“He’s literally going to be staying at the same resort.” 

You blinked. “...What.” 

“It’s a wedding in the hometown,” she said, and you could practically hear the shrug in her voice.  

“You think we all booked separate Airbnbs? No babe, we’re sharing a beachfront property.  

You, me, the bridal party, groom's mates and him." 

"Just dont say that we're going to share a room" 

"Oh about that..." She trails off as you widen you eyes and take your phone in hands, sitting up. 

"Omg Emily, I swear-" 

"Ok y/n! have a safe journey!" She said quickly and cut the call.  

You threw your phone somewhere on the bed as you sank back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling again, heart thudding a little louder now. Not in a panicked way. Just… unexpected. 

Sunghoon. 

The same boy who once kissed you with saltwater on his lips and whispered he wanted forever. The same boy you let go when you both had different definitions for forever.  

“I can handle this,” you said to no one in particular. 

Then, quietly: 

“Right?”   

“Right.”  

The memory crashes in, uninvited, like a tide that never really left. 

Salt in the air. Sand between your toes. The sky blushing orange as the sun began to dip beneath the ocean. 

“You run like a baby goat,” Sunghoon had said, breathless with laughter as you chased him down the shoreline, your hair wild and your grin wilder. 

“Excuse me?” you shouted, right before your foot caught on something and your ankle twisted. 

You went down hard. 

“Y/N!” He was by your side in seconds, panic chasing away the laughter on his face. “Shit—are you okay? Does it hurt? Oh my god, I shouldn’t have made fun of you. I’m the worst—here, here—” 

Without waiting, he scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing. 

“You don’t have to carry me—” you protested, blushing. 

“Shut up,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re hurt. I’m carrying you. That’s the rule.” 

You had laughed. Soft. Small. 

“Okay… but what if I’m faking it to get carried?” 

He paused, looked down at you with a sparkle in his eyes, and whispered like a secret: 

“Then I’ll carry you forever.” 

You inhale sharply, blinking up at the ceiling as your chest tightens. 

Yeah. 

You were absolutely, undeniably, hundred percent not over him. 

The cool breeze hits you as you walk out of the airport, two suitcases occupying your hands. You close your eyes and take a breath, enjoying the wave of nostalgia. You open your eyes to see Emily—the bride herself—jumping up and down, holding a board that reads, "Y/N, THE MAID OF HONOUR."

You grin, leaving your suitcases behind as she throws the board at her fiancé, who stumbles a bit and runs toward you. You both give each other a crushing hug, jumping up and down with smiles on your faces and tears in your eyes. After what felt like an eternity—quote-unquote, according to Andrew—you both pull away and look at one another, soaking the moment in.

"Welcome back!!" Emily exclaims, jumping again as you wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt and hug her once more, which she returns gleefully.

Soon, taking one of your suitcases—the other being dragged by Emily—you reach near their car, where Andrew is still holding the board with a happy face. You hug him as he pats your back. As you pull away, he gives you a teasing smile and ruffles your hair—just like he used to.

"How have you been, kid?" You return the smile, swatting his hand away—just like you used to—and say, "Great! Now that I’ve finally reunited with my parents!"

The couple chuckles at that, and soon, the three of you get into a very much-needed group hug. Then, you quickly set your luggage in the car, and you three start the journey to the house you'll be staying in—the beachfront property. You sleep on the way due to jet lag while Emily and Andrew talk quietly so as not to disturb you.

The sudden jerk of the car stopping wakes you up. "Home sweet home," Andrew says while removing his seatbelt.

You don’t know what you expected to feel. But as the wind hit your face and the scent of the town seeped into your bones, all you could feel was nostalgia. The kind that doesn’t hurt, but definitely pulls at something inside you.

"The maid of honor is here!!" Emily exclaims, practically jumping in her seat.

You smile at that, but your smile quickly falters when you hear Andrew's next words, "...And the best man too." Emily looks out to see the best man already standing in front of the house, "Oh, he’s here already!"

You follow Emily's gaze to see the best man—Sunghoon. He's in a fitted black shirt and grey sweatpants, probably seeming to have settled in already. And God, he looked so good—too good. You immediately regret your outfit choices; you would’ve dressed up in advance if you knew he was going to be here already.

Emily and Andrew both sneak a glance at you, having known your past, and you just give them a quick smile, acting like it's okay because you didn’t want them to feel bad or guilty.

All three of you leave the car as both Andrew and Emily hug Sunghoon while you take your luggage out. He hugs them back with that small smile on his face. The couple soon disappears into the house, murmuring about the tons of work they have.

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you. "Hey, sweets."

There it is. That damn nickname again—the one he used to call you all the time—the one he said only he had the right to call. And it isn’t helping how he used that sweet tone he always used when it was you he was talking to.

"Hi, Hoon. How have you been?" you ask, trying to sound casual. You swear you saw Sunghoon freeze for a second as you let his nickname slip from your lips. "Better, now that you're here."

Your stomach does a little flip as he says that with that stupid, idiotic, sweet, handsome smile. You clear your throat as you go over to your suitcases.

"Um… let’s go inside. It’s getting dark."

"Sure thing, sweets," he says as he takes the suitcases from you and vanishes inside the house before you can even protest. You try not to crash out as you follow him inside.

You enter the room as he opens the door and drags your suitcases in. The room is just like how you remembered it to be—a bit renovated but the memories still rooted in the concrete.

"We’re sharing a room?" you ask, noticing the open suitcase on the floor, which you assumed was his because of the familiar shirts in there.

He keeps your suitcases aside. "Believe it or not, everyone’s sharing a room. The house doesn’t have fifteen separate rooms."

You nod and sit on the bed. "And they put the two of us together?"

He shrugs while unpacking his luggage. "We’re familiar with each other- we’re used to each other."

There he goes. Did he already move on? How’s he so calm with the situation going on in here? I mean, certainly anyone would freak out if they're sharing a room with their ex, right? Or maybe I wasn’t that important in his life to be missed or to feel the tension. Or did he move on? Did he get tired of waiting? I mean, anyone would. It's not like he was being honest that day anyway. Like, c’mon, who would wait for a girl who’s not even in the same state as you?

All of these thoughts get interrupted by the sound of him closing his suitcase.

You push those thoughts away and try to act normal. "Who said? I’m still not used to your snoring."

He throws one of his shirts at you. "Hey! C’mon, that was one time."

Talking with Sunghoon is always easy—at least, he makes it so. Your conversations used to last for hours. Well, he used to only listen to you yap, but that’s besides the point. And maybe that’s why you didn’t move on. How can you when it feels like you're repeating the seasons? How can you when all you want to do is get in his arms and forget about the world?

You remove the shirt from your face and lay back on the bed. "Sure. Whatever makes you sleep at night."

He sighs and shakes his head. "Want to sleep?"

You nod, turning to your side. He hums—turns off the lights, pulls the blinds, and covers you with the comforter. "Good night, I guess."

You hum and snuggle deeper into the comforter, sleep slowly knocking you out.

You woke up groggy, eyes barely fluttering open as the soft morning light filtered through the curtains. Your head ached slightly — a mix of travel exhaustion and the emotional chaos of last night — and your limbs were tangled in the sheets in the most unflattering way.

With a quiet groan, you turned your head… and paused.

There, standing by the sink near the corner of the room, was Sunghoon. Shirtless. Toothbrush in mouth. Hair a messy, just-woke-up disaster. And yet he looked stupidly good.

You blinked once. Then again.

"Seriously?" you muttered, your voice raspy. "Do you walk around like that now?"

He turned slightly, foam at the corner of his lips, and grinned at you through the mirror.

"Sorry," he said, spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth. "Forgot I share a room with my ex."

You grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it weakly at him. "You're annoying."

He caught it easily, still smirking as he walked back to the bed, completely unbothered. "And you still drool in your sleep. So I guess we're even."

You shoved your face into the blanket to hide the way your lips tugged up.

Breakfast followed soon after. The kitchen was a mess — Emily running around in her robe, flipping pancakes like her life depended on it, while Andrew poured orange juice into wine glasses for no reason other than pure chaos.

You were seated across from Sunghoon, knees brushing occasionally under the table, and every time they did, you swore you saw Emily glance at the two of you with the most obnoxiously knowing look.

She didn’t say anything, of course. Just sipped her juice like she didn’t notice how Sunghoon quietly pushed the bowl of cut fruit closer to you or how you passed him the syrup without even looking up.

But you knew her. And by the slight smirk tugging at her lips, she definitely knew something. Maybe she knew everything. Everything which you, yourself arent sure of.

The day before the wedding was nothing short of a beautiful mess.

Emily’s house — once peaceful and scented like vanilla candles and lavender diffusers — now looked like a battlefield of open boxes, tangled fairy lights, last-minute checklists, and too many people talking over each other.

You stood in the middle of the living room, holding a curling iron in one hand and Emily’s jewelry set in the other, as she ran past you, barefoot and in a satin robe.

“I can’t find my lashes!” she yelled, more to the universe than to you.

“You don’t even need lashes. You’ll blind everyone with that highlighter alone,” you muttered, placing the jewelry safely down before trailing after her.

“Check the second drawer in my vanity!” she called from somewhere upstairs, her voice echoing.

Meanwhile, Andrew was in the kitchen, stress-eating chips out of a salad bowl and pretending he had control over the situation.

Sunghoon sat cross-legged on the carpet, surrounded by flower petals and name cards, trying to finish seating placements because apparently the wedding planner had to rush home for a family emergency. His brows were furrowed, lips slightly parted in concentration — and for a moment, you just stood there, watching him.

Still the same boy who used to handwrite your project assignments when you had a cold. Still the same boy who could get overly serious over something like wedding chairs.

"You're doing it wrong," you said, stepping closer, gently nudging one of the cards.

He glanced up, eyes narrowing. "How?"

"These two hate each other." You pointed to two names placed side by side. "Unless you're aiming for a food fight at the reception?"

He sighed. "Great. I love drama but not at someone else's wedding."

You laughed softly, sitting down beside him. “Scoot over.”

He shifted, and the two of you started rearranging cards in silence, your knees brushing again, just like this morning. Only this time, neither of you moved away.

Upstairs, Emily screamed again — this time about not being able to find the veil — and Andrew called out, “Babe, I thought you said you put it in the red bag?”

“There are five red bags, Andrew!”

You smiled despite yourself, glancing at Sunghoon, who was now smirking like a spectator in a rom-com.

“It’s like watching a live episode of a drama series,” he whispered, leaning in just slightly.

You rolled your eyes. “A very chaotic one.”

And yet, in the midst of all the madness, the laughter, the misplaced veil, and the wrong name cards, something about being there — next to him, with your best friend marrying the love of her life — felt strangely comforting. Like maybe, not everything was falling apart.

The wedding morning was a dream wrapped in silk and nerves.

The house, surprisingly quiet at 6:30 a.m., was already breathing excitement. You were up before your alarm — which never happened — and found yourself tiptoeing down to the kitchen barefoot, just to feel something calm before the chaos began.

Emily was already seated at the breakfast table in her white robe, sipping herbal tea with her eyes closed. You paused in the doorway, just watching her.

“You look like a Pinterest bride,” you said softly.

She opened one eye and smiled, the kind that reached all the way to her lashes. “That’s the goal.”

You joined her, both of you sitting in silence, letting the moment sit between you like a warm blanket. The hours ahead were going to be loud, teary, and chaotic — but this, this quiet breath before everything changed, was something you both needed.

And then the clock struck 7:30.

Suddenly the house erupted. Makeup artists arrived, steaming dresses were carried across rooms like fragile clouds, and hair curlers buzzed from every direction. The soft white light outside turned golden, bouncing off the windows and bathing the rooms in a glow that felt like something from a movie.

You had your hair half done when Emily turned around, already in the middle of her own glam session, and said, “Did you steam Sunghoon’s suit?”

You blinked. “That’s not my job.”

She raised an eyebrow in the mirror.

“…But I’ll do it anyway.”

Ten minutes later, you were in your guys' room, holding a steamer with one hand and his black suit with the other. He walked in with damp hair, still in sweatpants and a plain white tee, yawning.

“You’re steaming my suit?” he asked, surprised.

You looked over your shoulder. “It was either this or you walk down the aisle looking like a crumpled brochure.”

“Wow. So thoughtful.” He grinned, walking closer and watching you work. “You’d make a great wife someday.”

You didn’t look at him. “Don’t project your regrets on me.”

He chuckled, leaning against the wall. “You’re so aggressive before 9 a.m.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, returning to your task. “You’re lucky I didn’t ‘accidentally’ burn a hole in this.”

But the moment — the silence between lines — hung thick with something else. The way his eyes stayed on you a second longer than necessary. The way you fiddled with the steamer cord just to avoid saying something you’d regret. It was always like this with him — quiet war, loud heart.

Eventually, you handed him the suit. “Try not to spill anything on it.”

“I’m very responsible now,” he said, already pulling off his shirt, forgetting or maybe not caring you were still in the room.

You turned around immediately. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he mimicked, laughing as he walked into the washroom.

By noon, the venue was glowing.

Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows of the old garden chapel Emily always dreamt of, casting multicolored light over ivory chairs and lilac petals. Guests began to arrive in waves — relatives, college friends, coworkers — all buzzing, all dressed up in love and perfume.

You stood near the altar, adjusting the bride’s bouquet, running through your maid-of-honor checklist in your head for the seventh time.

That’s when someone tapped your shoulder.

“Excuse me,” an older woman — possibly from Andrew’s side — gave you a warm smile. “Are you Emily’s sister?”

You blinked. “Oh no, just her friend.”

“Oh! You must be the maid of honor then. You’ve been running around like the bride’s bodyguard,” she chuckled.

You gave a tired smile. “It’s part of the job.”

She looked around and then leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “So… you know the best man? Heard you both are a pair!"

Your eyes instinctively followed her gaze to Sunghoon, laughing at something the ring bearer said. He looked so natural, so him — the exact version of him that used to fall asleep on your couch mid-movie. That version still lived in small corners of your mind you refused to dust off.

You cleared your throat, smiling a little. “We used to date.”

“Oh,” the woman said, surprised. “Well, it’s really mature of you both to be here, still showing up for them like this. He's a lovely man, really hard working too!

You nodded, eyes never really leaving him. “Yeah... I guess you can say that, I’m really proud of my ex.”

And you meant it. Even if it stung.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the garden, Sunghoon adjusted his tie while one of the groomsmen cracked jokes beside him. He gave a small laugh, but his mind wasn’t there.

“Dude,” the guy nudged him. “Isn’t that your ex?”

He glanced across the lawn. You were standing with Emily now, holding her veil so she wouldn’t trip.

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it weird?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

A pause.

“Honestly?” he said, after a moment, voice lower. “She’s doing great. Like… really great.”

Then a small smile tugged at his lips.

“I’m proud of her- I'm so proud of my ex."

The garden was glowing under the fairy lights, chairs lined with white ribbons, and the soft melody of a piano playing in the background. You stood to the side, just behind Emily, holding her bouquet while she faced Andrew at the altar.

Everyone had tears in their eyes, but you… you were already sniffling before the vows even began.

And then Andrew spoke.

“I’ve loved you since the first day you told me I was your favorite person even when I ate all your fries.”

Everyone chuckled.

“But more than that, I’ve loved the way you make a place feel like home. I promise to hold your hand through every bad movie, every thunderstorm, and every time you forget where you kept your keys.”

You wiped a tear, eyes blurry as Emily took her vow sheet with slightly shaky hands.

“And I promise,” Emily’s voice broke, “to never let go of the way you look at me like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world—even when I’m yelling at you in my ugliest pajamas.”

People laughed through their tears.

You… broke.

Tears slipped down your cheeks freely now. You didn’t even try to hide it. It wasn’t just about them. It was love, so raw and open, it cracked something in you that you hadn’t dared touch in years.

You felt someone gently press a tissue into your hand.

You turned slightly, and there he was—Sunghoon. Not teasing. Not smirking. Just… looking at you like he got it.

The ceremony ended in a wave of cheers and claps, and as the evening unfolded into soft music and warm hugs, the first dance began under the starlit canopy.

Soon enough, the dance floor opened to everyone. You were sipping punch at the edge, quietly soaking it all in when a familiar hand reached out in front of you.

“May I?” Sunghoon asked, eyes hopeful.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Seriously?”

He raised a brow. “I’m told I clean up well in a suit.”

You rolled your eyes but placed your hand in his anyway.

As the two of you stepped into a slow sway, the music melting into something soft and nostalgic, there was a comfortable silence.

You didn’t speak for a while. Just… moved. Familiar and unsure. Close, but cautious.

Until he leaned in a little.

“You still cry at vows,” he murmured near your ear.

You glanced up. “You still tease me when I’m emotional.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “You still look beautiful when you’re emotional.”

You looked away. Heart beating a bit faster.

And then… softer, barely audible above the music:

“I missed this. You. Us.”

You met his eyes again — searching, unsure, but open.

“I missed you too,” you whispered.

He didn't say anything more. Just gently pulled you closer, as your hands rested on his chest.

And then, like a moment that had been waiting three years to happen — he kissed you.

Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just a soft, steady press of lips — careful not to steal the spotlight, but quietly claiming the moment for just the two of you.

The kind of kiss that doesn’t scream we’re back, but simply says:

Finally.

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works

liked this? click here for more: (∩^o^)⊃━☆

A/N: Finally, indeed. ummmmmm so, sincere appologies cause i kinda half assed it half way thru. so, really sorry about that........... also, tysm for all the love nd support u guys r showing! MWUAH! stay hydrated.

perm taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie @jwyoceans @jaylaxies (lmk if u wanna be added!)

taglist for this fic: @miauumin @nctubatu @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @iwishyourosesxo @nmurark05 @aheewonenthusiast @jaeminchiaa @wonnieswife @iluvhoonn @danielladida @skzenhalove @honestlyatomicpanda (closed cause... it ended.)

[titaneus]

"That's right young man there's no such thing as too late or too early to find the one for you that could handle your spice." The elderly man chuckled with a shake of his head before he gave a not so subtle look in Tania's direction. "Alright you, none of that he's just an acquaintance."

"Oh come on let an old man have his fun! You two would have beautiful kids by the way—"

"Nope not listening!! Take your damn money and stop that before I go next door and tell your wife you've been making up stories about her dying so you can get more customers again." And with that the old man finally surrenders with a laugh as he takes the money from the nurse. She always paid him for the extra meat and noodles regardless of if he said it was on the house or not.

"Thanks again for keeping me company Grimmjow, and it was nice getting to meet you." She gets up from her seat and holds out her arms to the sky as she stretches out her back. "If you're ever bored and Ichigo's not around feel free stop by I'm usually at work in Karakura High as the school nurse, or loitering around the places we've been to today." Would it be weird to offer him her number? Maybe, if they meet up again and this turns into a blossoming friendship than she'll offer her number then.

Funny enough, he'd heard an array of different comments about his waist, or his body shape, some were in awe, others were jealous. Not that many people could see him but that was beside the point. He happened to be rather fond of spicy food though, he'd never thought as to why that was.

"It is really good ramen. I like the flavor, the spice is real good too." He wasn't even breaking a sweat, but given that Grimmjow wasn't human that might be why. Sure, his waist was tiny but that didn't really mean he wasn't strong, or capable, right? Maybe people would judge him but not many cold see him and he was just fine as he was.

He wasn't thinking of finding a partner. As an Arrancar, he wasn't human, so dating wasn't exactly something he was overly familiar with in the first place. This was just an outing between new friends, nothing more and nothing less. They hardly knew one another. So surely the old man wasn't implying they could work out or something along those lines.

"Somethin' tells me findin' anyone who can handle th' same level of spicy I can will be pretty tough." It was more a try to easily dismiss the idea in the first place. Him, date someone? How odd would that be? "That's alright though I ain't in any rush fer that kinda thing." He wasn't looking at all but he didn't want to say something to upset the old man. Why would someone who wasn't human look for a partner?

"It's a nice place, I can see myself stoppin' by every so often fer some ramen since it's so good." The flavor was immaculate, really, he'd tried a number of spicy ramen before, but this old man made the best tasting, seriously spicy yet balanced broth.

[doekimakura]

His personality is not final but I really do think he only acts like this around his 'arch nemesis' (one-sided).

Besides this, he is an ikemen with serious rizz.

[zestyzigzagoon]

I have a new little icon that I love very much. not only does it have beta design zigzagoon (the best zigzagoon), but there's a LEMON pattern. because it's ZESTY. get it. lemon zest,,,, zestyzigzagoon... 🥁

[yeehawitsjakee]

Back in my Elden Ring era 💅💅💅

Doing a Davyd run, duel welding daggers (one has bleed!!! Cuz I got that ash of war for it!!). He uses daggers in bg3 so I want to try them in Elden Ring too cuz I've never used them, aiming for a better bleed weapon cuz that feels very durge 🕺

[fennthetalkingdog]

Okay, so I saw a thing mentioning how you could wag your butt as if you have a tail to kinda mimic the feeling and that's so smart!! For me, unless I'm super super super happy, wagging my butt is usually just a shaking-water-off-my-fur motion T-T Like, I've been feeling a tail behind me pretty consistently for years now, and when I'm really happy it wags and the feeling gets stronger, but wagging for me is an exclusively tail motion. There's no physical signs because just it's moving (and that's part of why wearing a tail feels weird for me, cause mine will be wagging but since I don't move my butt the tail doesn't move with me T-T ). But I might try that sometime to let my friends know my tail is wagging :3

[cerulesen]

everyone should be insane about at least a few rarepairs in their life i think it's good for the soul

[dawntheduckrb]

Low resolution borb chilling on the curb

[yandere-romanticaa]

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

[rrivlet]

hi I would really like to hear the story of you getting kicked out of a museum for being a 9/11 fan

Okay, so lets set the stage here. 9/11 happens. I'm pretty young at the time, and I don't remember shit about it.

Several years pass. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but I wasn't even 10 yet. I develop an absurd obsession with Aviation Disasters. I watch a lot of Seconds from Disaster about this, eventually learning that Human Error is my least favorite cause of incidents because nothing funny happened to the plane.

However.

I learn about 9/11 in school and my first thought is "this is fuckin rad" because there was a big aviation disaster. I love that shit. I learn that this happened because it was deliberate. I then discard this information because it's no longer necessary. Queue the start of my 9/11 Simulation Era.

I use everything. Boxes, cans, whatever is stackable. A few times, I make a cardboard airplane. My parents are none the wiser because they just think I love airplanes (which is true, but only part of it). This goes on for some time.

Now, the museum I mentioned in those tags was called the "Imaginarium" or something like that. Childrens interactive museum. Lotsa fun stuff, and my family took me there often. One of the things they have here (which is, of course, my favorite exhibit) is a flight simulator cabinet.

One day, my obaachan takes me to the Imaginarium. I take my time, perusing through all the exhibits, making the big bubble, playing with the air cannon, all that jazz. All the while, I'm SUPER excited to get to the end, where the flight sim is.

The flight sim is running some version of microsoft flight simulator and is locked on a cesna of some sort. It has fully functioning foot pedals, throttle, and flight control. I eat this shit up every time for as long as whoever is taking me will let me. You probably already know the shape of this.

The space they have you fly over is like, a small city with surrounding countryside. As luck would have it, the city has two buildings of remarkably similar height next to each other. Sure, I'm piloting a cesna and not a passenger liner, but I don't care. I'm in the moment, I'm fucking crazed out of my tiny child MIND about 9/11, and I can do ANOTHER simulation. In my head, I'm the second plane. I get close enough to the ground (having played the simulator a lot, certainly enough to be familiar with the controls), and I set course, full throttle, for the Second Tower.

As I collide (and the plane bounces around because the game doesn't do exploding planes for some reason lol), I say aloud, and very audibly, "Oh my god, they hit the second tower." Or something to that effect.

It's maybe been 5 or so years since 9/11, so while it's not 100% fresh in peoples memories, it's near the surface of a lot of people's minds. The attendant at the counter not far from where I'm sitting looks at me after I say this, makes a 100% correct read on what I'm fucking doing and what's going on, looks at my obaachan and tells her in no uncertain terms that we need to leave and that "this disrespect cannot be tolerated here."

I don't go to that museum again for many many years, and when I do finally return (for a field trip or something), the flight sim is gone.

But it's okay because I pestered a great many of my caretakers (including my foster parent at one point) with my 9/11 sims, and I'd do it again in a fuckin caffeinated heartbeat.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug like angel

pt2

Girl Afraid

May 12, XXXX

4:45 AM

"Shit," you think to yourself as you realize you're going to be late for school

Yes, your school usually doesn't start till 7 AM, but you have a field trip today, and the bus leaves at 5:30 AM.

"Ms.Rose is gonna kill me if I'm late again! Where did I put my bag? Where are my earbuds?" you whisper to no one in particular

You had a million thoughts running in your head, but one thing was sure, you were so late.

You still had to grab your phone, eat breakfast, put on your clothes, do your hair and makeup on the bus, and run towards the bus and then maybe you can make it in time.

You rush downstairs to get breakfast and realize you don't have to be as quiet because it's empty in the kitchen.

You quickly eat breakfast and finish your morning routine before making it out the door.

It's 5:43 when you make it onto the bus, Ms. Rose was waiting on you and thankfully didn't you much of a hard time.

"Ms.y/n, please be more considerate of others time next time."You sat down next to your "friends"

You don't fully consider them your friends, they're too full of themselves and you all know none of you guys are friends, just close acquaintances.

After finishing the coffee you brought onto the bus ride, doing your hair and makeup, and taking a quick nap while listening to music, you finally made it.

Alchemax.

You were excited for the trip, even asking Dick, Jason, and Bruce if they wanted to tag along as chaperones.

They said no, which you both understood and were also sad about but, whatever, who cares? Anyways- you're at the coolest place!

It's perfect for someone who wants an internship that would look great on your resume.

Why do you want that resume? You don't know. Maybe it's so you can impress your family? You aren't fully sure.

Before you question yourself further, you get off the bus, along with your schoolmates.

You hear them all chatting about whatever, but it's clear to everyone that you are the most excited to go on this trip.

You, who wouldn't shut up about it despite everyone at school and home telling you to. You, who kept bouncing off walls while talking about it. You, who constantly wrote about it in journals.

Nothing could stop your excitement, and that was clear to others.

While you were there, you were practically the only one participating.

The only one wasnt scared to ask questions.

The one that would ask questions for others who wouldn't.

You were sure that this was the best trip of your life! You were so interested in everything!

It wasn't until later in the day after you got home at 7:56 that you saw everyone in the dining room sitting together eating, like usual, without you.

Every time you saw them together your heart broke a little more.

You tried to not make a scene and just walk away quietly, and it worked!

With everyone but Alfred.

"And where have you been, young miss?" He asked in an authoritary tone.

"I've been on a field trip in Alchemax! I just got back! It was soo fun, why?" you asked, knowing what he was going to ask.

"Wouldn't you like to have dinner with the others?" it's clear he just wanted the others to notice you, he knew you've tried so hard to be with them.

"it's alright, Alfred. I grabbed lunch with my friends earlier, I'm still full!" you said enthusiastically. It wasnt a lie, afterwards you all went to your favorite fast food place, batburger. You're sure theres no better fast food place than batburger.

"Oh, that's quite alright then." as soon as he said that you went upstairs to get unready and unpack for the day. you didnt notice Jasons slight dissapointment on his face when you refused and walked away.

It's good that it was a Friday, you could rest tomorrow.

You didn't notice how you accidentally took Project 111 with you. Mustve sneaken in your bag while you went to the bathroom while at Alchemax.

It took you a while to open your bag due to you getting ready for bed, and you screamed when you saw a spider in your bag and crawling onto your hand.

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK STOP CRAWLING ON ME LEAVE ME ALONE WHERE DID YOU COME FROM GO AWAY!" the stupid spider kept crawling on you.

It's honestly suprising no one heard you scream. Either that or they didnt care.

You didnt know what to do. You hate spiders.

It took you minute or two of just flailing before actually doing something.

You tried to reach for your nearest hairbrush to hit the spider with, only to accidentally hit yourself anywhere but where the spider was. Thats gonna leave a mark.

The spider, project 111, ended up biting you on the wrist. You ended up killing it with your hairspray.

You started panicking on whether you would die or not, you may have cried a little before realizing you were being a tad bit dramatic.

You realized the spider didn't look like the venomous ones you researched online while trying to find common ground with Damian back when he was new

So you decide to keep this to yourself, a nice little secret.

3:37 AM

You woke up sweating, panicking, hot, cold, tired, wide awake, hungry, full, thirsty, not thirsty.

You didn't know what was happening.

You forced yourself to fall back asleep.

it's around 12 PM when you wake up again.

You hope it was just a weird nightmare.

You realize you woke up late to breakfast, which was usually at 9:30 for you, so on your desk was some cold breakfast Alfred left for you.

While eating it, you thought about what happened.

Was it a dream? Was it a sign? Were you high?

You start walking in circles trying to figure out what it could all mean...it took you a while to realize you were literally upside down on your ceiling.

Oops?

Before you processed it, you panicked.Why are you on the ceiling? Why were you walking on walls? How were you walking on walls?

So many questions. No one to answer them.

After a bit of panicking and running around making a mess, you realize you sort of have powers.

You could stick to walls, that was one.

You could make webs, thats two. You could be a hero, like the others!

At first, you find it so cool!

..then you realized your father doesn't want metas in Gotham...

You decide to keep this to yourself, for now at least.

oml this is so short oops guys i swear im. tryigg my hardest but also im kind of a bad writiter 🙏

anyways the next one of these i make is most likely gonna be emu reader cause shes so silly

anyways

[littlemissaddict]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

"Oi, where do ya think ya going love?" Simon grumbles, sleepily reaching out for her as he feels her body moving from his own. Perks (or rather problems when he's on leave) of working in the field is that while he can sleep almost anywhere, the slightest sound or movement is enough to jolt him awake.

Her on the other hand, didn't hear a word Simon just said as she's still fast asleep, lost in dreamland as she rolled away from him.

Simon, though, seems to take it personally that she moved away from his embrace no matter how unintentional it may have been. The mattress dips under his broad form as he shuffles along the bed towards her still sleeping form, his large hands finding her waist and pulling her back into him with a sigh.

The unexpected movement finally wakes her, "Mhmm Si-" She mumbles out groggily, trying to turn in his hold to face him.

"S'kay love, jus' go back t'sleep"

Johnny 'Soap' Mctavish:

Normally, trying to wake Johnny when he was on leave was like trying to wake the dead but tonight it seemed the tiny movement of her climbing out of bed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night was more than enough to wake him. His strong arms curling around her middle and stopping her in the process as her bladder cries in protest.

"Where ya runnin' off ta?" His voice rough with sleep as he asks.

"Nowhere, just need to pee" she almost pleads with him, squealing when he tightens his arms around her a squeezing slightly.

"Nah, I think I'll keep ya righ' 'ere" he hums, closing his eyes again as his arms rest heavy against her body.

"I swear Johnny, let me go or there'll be a puddle in the bed" She warns, "and not the fun kind" She frowns, forgetting that he can't see her as he still has his eyes closed, in hopes of spurring him onto let her go.

"Ooh, the fun kind eh" he teases, perking up again, "an wha' fun would that be?" He smirks, knowing the answer already as to what she was referring to.

"Doesn't matter because you won't be getting none if you don't let me go" She threatens as a last-ditch effort for him to finally release her even though they both know that she could never refuse him for too long.

It works in her favour as he let's her go with a pained groan as if she's wounded him. She's used to his dramatics now, rolling her eyes as she rushes to the bathroom.

She returns to find Johnny watching her expectantly from the bed, the mischievous glint still shining brightly in his eyes, but she cuts him off before he can start again. "I don't think so, I'm going back to sleep" she warns sternly, knowing that a few well planned touches from Johnny and she'll be putty in his hands.

[maximoffsgirl]

Felis

summary: Wanda Maximoff had a well-known reputation for barely tolerating humanity— well, except for you. That much was obvious. What wasn’t so obvious was the Wanda only you got, the Wanda who took you to secret late-night dates spent under the stars, where it was just You, her and the constellations. But now, meeting face to face with the misfortune of having to share you, will Wanda be able to survive nosy adults - known as the World's mighty heroes- that want to "take her girlfriend away"?

warnings: Established but new relationship, late night car drives, make outs, Slight alcohol consumption, Wanda being an emo black cat and cute, Jealousy and Possessiveness (W to R), otherwise I think there's none, but please let me know!

not proofread

author's note: to the anon who requested this, I hope this is what you were thinking about❤️ (I'm sorry it took sooooo long, i hope it was worth the wait)

words count: 7.905

The room buzzed with a relaxed, lively energy, the kind that paired perfectly with the faint chill creeping in from the late hour. Unfortunately for Wanda, your animated conversation with Yelena seemed destined to stretch into eternity—or at least until the yawning hours of the morning. And, according to Wanda’s resolve, it was already late enough for her to contemplate the sweet relief of her bed.  

You threw your head back in laughter, your carefree joy radiating through the room as you sipped your drink. Every now and then, your gaze flicked toward Wanda, scanning for her familiar figure. When you spotted her lingering at the edge of a small demilune table, you gestured for her to come closer. But she just pointed toward the couch where the rest of your friends were perched, and you nodded, giving her a quiet, reassuring smile.  

Your friends had practically staged an intervention to convince you to bring Wanda to your group’s monthly reunion. Sure, she’d bumped into some of them before—an impromptu chat here, an accidental coffee shop encounter there, maybe a party or two—but being submerged in the full, unfiltered chaos of your entire friend group was a whole different beast.

 It wasn’t that Wanda didn’t like them or that they didn’t like her. They got along quite well, and to Wanda’s surprise, they actually had some interesting things to talk about and fun stories to share. The problem was just… people.  

Even if your group was as friendly and easygoing as they came, they were still people. And that didn’t make them any less exhausting.  

Wanda handled it all as the night stretched on. Polite conversations, a few strategically timed smiles, more small talk than she could ever count. She kept her drink alcohol-free, making sure to stay in condition to drive both of you back. But a woman can only handle so much. She quickly found her brief moments of relief by sneaking off to the bathroom, where she’d check her phone—just long enough to catch her breath before re-entering the chaos. When that didn’t suffice, she’d quietly gravitate toward you, slipping her hand gently around your waist. It wasn’t to draw attention or interrupt; just a quiet connection, a grounding touch that offered her comfort without taking too much of your focus, letting her steal a few moments of peace before braving the crowd again.  

At some point, she even got roped into a game with two boys named Billy and Tommy, her competitive streak sparking a few rare grins. But soon enough, the buzz of social interaction began to drain her reserves. By the time you and Yelena’s gossiping marathon was winding down, Wanda had settled into her default role as the quiet observer, her emerald eyes trailing you across the room like a moth drawn to its flame.  

When you finally made your way back to her, you leaned in to press a kiss just behind her ear, instantly switching her attention to a more interesting subject: you.

Wanda’s focus shifted instantly, her gaze snapping to you as quickly as her hand placement now, a possessive grip on your thigh. She had long stopped pretending to listen to Kate Bishop’s rambling. The words coming from Kate’s mouth were nothing compared to the sight of you. Your skirt, the way it clung to your skin despite the cold, was far more interesting than… well, she really had no idea what that girl was saying.  

It didn’t take one with powers to be able to read your girlfriend. Wanda’s forest-green eyes, though soft and subtle, practically screamed, Please, let’s go home. Her social battery was drained down to fumes, and the longing for the quiet solitude of her own space was undeniable.  

When you leaned closer and murmured, “You’re ready to go. Aren’t you?” your words were laced with humor, teasing her indirectly for her lack of love for people. The spark in her eyes flared to life, a silent but emphatic yes. With a quiet chuckle, you nodded, rising from your seat and signaling the end of the night.  

Both of you offered your goodbyes to the group, earning a chorus of exaggerated complaints about how the night was still young—even though the clock had struck 2 AM half an hour ago. You smiled apologetically, tossing out an excuse about needing to get up early, even if everyone knew it was only half true. Wanda appeared beside you just in time, draping her leather jacket over your shoulders—because, naturally, you hadn’t thought to bring one yourself.  

A few quick waves later, you were stepping out into the crisp night air, Wanda’s hand finding its place on your lower back, gently steering you toward the car. You glanced up at her, smiling softly, and her lips curved into a smirk before she leaned in, stealing a quick kiss. Your surprised giggle encouraged her, and she peppered your lips with more playful pecks all the way to the car. Once there, she opened the door for you, her touch lingering as you settled into the passenger seat.  

The drive home was nothing unusual for Wanda, though her mind wandered. If it were up to her, you’d be spending the night at the tower, wrapped up in her until morning. But she knew better—your schedule was packed, and persuasion, no matter how charming, wouldn’t change your mind. Believe her, she’d tried before, and you were infuriatingly stubborn.  

“I’ll pick you up at 7 PM then,” she said as you unbuckle your seatbelt, her tone firm with a touch of affection.  

“Okay, but text me when you’re leaving the tower,” you replied, grabbing your purse.  

Wanda hummed her agreement, though her focus had already shifted. Her fingers trailed teasingly along your thigh, drawing your attention back to her. You tilted your head, leaning slightly against the seat as you flushed under her gaze. Without hesitation, Wanda’s hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss that was far more intense than you’d expected. A quiet moan escaped you, caught off guard by the heat of it.  

That sound was all it took for Wanda to tug you into her lap, her hands firm on your hips, drawing you closer with every second. One hand wandered upward, settling confidently on your neck as the kiss deepened. When you finally broke apart, breathless and grinning, you murmured, “I need to go hooome.”  

Wanda’s response was a low murmur against your neck, followed by a series of distracting kisses. “And?” her tone lazy and unbothered, her lips never straying far from your skin created goosebumps all over your body. The sheer audacity of it made you groan, tilting your head back. You knew what she was doing.  

You giggled softly, shaking your head at her antics, the warmth of the moment lingering between you. Placing your hands gently on her shoulders, you immediately drew Wanda’s attention. Before she could dive back toward your neck, you leaned in, pressing a light peck to her lips, halting her progress.  

“As much as I love this, and as much as I love you. I really, really need to go.”  

Well, that wasn’t what she was expecting at all. Her expression softened as she let her hand wander, her thumb tracing slow, deliberate strokes along your hip. Brushing her other thumb against your skin with an affectionate rhythm as her eyes met yours.  

“But you’ll stay tomorrow at the tower,” she said, and you knew better than to take that as anything other than an affirmation.  

Either way, you nodded, a faint smile curving your lips at her certainty. The two of you lingered in each other’s arms for a while longer, chatting about silly, inconsequential things, along with Wanda’s now-and-then complaints about people, in general.  

Maybe it was because Wanda grew up with only her brother by her side, her world small and quiet, that adjusting to life with far more people than she’d ever anticipated felt like stepping into chaos. It explained a lot about her demeanor—your girlfriend was, without a doubt, the definition of a black cat. From her emo wardrobe to her piercingly observant nature, right down to that deadly tilt of her head, she carried an air of mystery and quiet defiance that was entirely her own.  

A mystery that she was letting you slowly resolve.  

But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Wanda walked you to your door, her hand resting snugly against your lower back, and stole one last kiss for the night. Alright, she stole three kisses… maybe four before she said goodbye.  

--- 07:13 PM, Saturday.

Wanda knew countless ways to show you love. She absolutely hated those five love language quizzes. But took every possible quiz known to mankind, because it made you happy. To her, there was no point in defining her love when her goal was simple: to love you in every imaginable way known to humanity.  

Take words of affirmation—Wanda had mastered them. Sometimes she’d leave you anonymous notes tucked in unexpected places, filled with songs, poems, or plain “I love yous” scribbled all over the paper. Of course, those notes often came paired with flowers, seamlessly tying into her “gift-giving” love language.

 Or she would whisper sweet things in your ear, maybe after fucking you into the mattress to a point that your legs simply decided against working; or during a cozy cuddle session, that she was so overwhelmed to the thought of loving you that expressing what her heart felt was the only way to breathe.

But Wanda had her personal ranking system, and in her imaginary list, the “best love language of all time” title went to a combination of three: acts of service, quality time, and physical touch. It might seem odd if you thought about it. Because as much as she loved her brother and cherished the company of the team, Wanda Maximoff was known as the ultimate lone wolf; who cherished her independence and had always preferred her space. But who now, lived for your presence.  

The once-solitary soul found herself missing you in your absence, casually touching you whenever you were close, and pouting—yes, pouting—when you weren’t. She’d found herself wanting to do anything and everything for you, from tying your shoelaces to painting your nails, actions that spoke volumes without a single word.  

And tonight, you realized she’d be using all three in full force the moment you shut your front door. Wanda leaned against her car casually, exuding an effortless confidence that made it look like she owned the world. Her combat boots gave her a slightly taller stance, her short black skirt was just enough to drive you insane, and her crimson lace corset hugged her waist with a perfection that could make statues weep.  

Topping it all off was her signature leather jacket, the one both of you knew would end up draped over your shoulders by the end of the night, as it always did.

She greeted you with a sweet pet name, her tone soft as she guided you to the passenger seat. Then, as soon as she got in, she kissed you—a teasing, gentle press of her lips that left your lipstick intact but made your heart flutter in the way only Wanda could.  

Too wonderstruck by Wanda’s presence to notice at first, it wasn’t until you glanced around the car that something seemed off. A frown slowly crept onto your face as you noticed the unfamiliar vehicle: a pickup truck you were certain Wanda didn’t own.  

“This is not your car,�� you stated, turning to her with a puzzled look, silently asking for an explanation.  

“It’s Clint’s. And I’ll say no more because it’s part of your surprise,” she replied with a sly smirk, clearly enjoying your confusion.  

She tried to steer your attention elsewhere, initiating a conversation about anything but cars or dates. Soon enough, the two of you were caught up in the comfort of your usual rhythm. Wanda shared new stories about the team and Pietro that you hadn’t heard before, and you found yourself revealing snippets of your life before her, the kind of details you didn’t usually think to share but felt natural with her.  

Of course, curiosity got the best of you, as it always did. You tried again, your tone playfully insistent. “Where are we going?” But Wanda wasn’t budging.  

“I’m not saying. You’ll just have to sit there and look pretty,” her smile only making you more curious.  

Resigning to the mystery for now, you shifted your focus to the little comforts inside the car. You picked the music—your shared playlist, the one you’d made together late at night before you’d even started dating—and absentmindedly played with the rings on Wanda’s right hand, the same hand that rested comfortably on your thigh.  

The conversation, once again, changed to random facts, half-formed ideas, and musings stories that hadn’t come up before. But neither of you cared; every small discovery about each other felt like another thread tying you closer together.  

Then the car slowed. Wanda stopped near a gate, grabbing a set of keys and tapping your leg as she stepped out. It wasn’t until she walked toward the gate—a sophisticated, intricately designed one—that your curiosity turned into full-blown amusement.  

When she returned, you tilted your head at her with a half-smile, your curiosity now brimming. “Wanda… what is that?”  

She giggled, looking up dramatically as if in thought, before you poked her side, your need to know finally winning out.  

“I was talking to Clint about taking you on a date, like that movie we watched. But I didn’t have a place, and the park just wasn’t it. So, welcome to Anthony Stark’s country house,” she said casually.  

Your eyes widened in disbelief, a startled laugh escaping you as you processed her words. “Stark?! How?”  

If it had been Clint offering, it would’ve made more sense. He was practically Wanda’s surrogate father figure, even if she refused to admit it. But Tony? That was a different story.  

“He offered,” she said with a shrug. “Said it’s a family property he barely uses. I wasn’t going to take him up on it, but Barton called me out. And, well… it’s for you.”  

Her voice softened on the last words, and she looked away, parking the car near a tree. Even in the dim light, you could see the faint blush dusting her cheeks, a blush too strong to go unnoticed.  

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you reached out to her, feeling overwhelmed by the gesture. Wanda Maximoff, the girl who claimed she didn’t need anyone, had gone through all this trouble just to give you something special.  

“You’re too good,” you murmured, the words spilling out unfiltered, your heart feeling fuller than ever.

Wanda’s smile was a perfect blend of shyness and confidence, like she knew exactly what she was doing but still couldn’t quite believe she was pulling it off. She parked the car under the shelter of a sprawling tree, its branches reaching out like they were trying to touch the stars. And oh, the stars—countless, glittering, and impossibly bright against the deep blue canvas of the night sky.

You stepped out of the car, immediately captivated by the celestial display, your head tilting back, trying to watch it closely. You turned, ready to gush to Wanda about how breathtaking it all was, but your words caught in your throat. She wasn’t there.

Your eyes darted around, and there she was—Wanda, already moving with purpose, shutting the backseat door and making her way to the truck bed. Curiosity piqued, you followed, your footsteps crunching softly on the gravel.

What was she up to now? Your mind raced, but nothing could have prepared you for what you saw next.

The truck bed looked like a scene straight from a rom-com, but this was real, and it was all yours. Blankets and pillows were spread out neatly, candles flickered softly, and a few containers sat nearby, hinting at snacks waiting to be discovered. There was also a wooden board, though you didn’t know what it was for yet. 

And then, of course, there was Wanda. She sat on the edge of the truck bed, her dark brown hair catching the soft candlelight, her eyes shining with a mix of mischief and warmth. She stood there, effortlessly magnetic and, but her smile? always sweet.

Suddenly, the constellations above you felt insignificant, obsolete.

Why gaze at distant stars when the most radiant being in the universe was standing right in front of you? And then, like a quiet ripple in your memory, you thought back to the first time you saw Wanda.

It was a Friday night, and you were out with your friends after a long week. The local club was packed, as it always was on weekends, but the drinks were good enough to make the crowd bearable. You weren’t there for anything in particular—just to unwind, sip on a drink, and enjoy the company of your closest friends. The music pulsed through the room, and you found yourself laughing, dancing, and letting the night carry you along. That’s when you noticed her, in the middle of it all. 

Her hair tied up in a ponytail, wearing a sleek black short skirt and tall boots that added an air of elegance to her presence. There was something about her—the way she carried herself, the way she seemed to glow even in the dim light of the club—that made it impossible to look away. Your first thought was that she reminded you of a constellation. Hard to find, but impossible not to search for it.

Astronomers might say that constellations are only hard to find if you don't know what you're searching for; you didn’t know much about stars—you could barely find the three stars of the Orion Belt—but spotting her in that crowded room felt as natural as finding the constellation Cassiopeia.

But as far as looking goes, you didn’t approach her. You wanted to, but the moment never felt right. By the time you gathered the courage, she was gone, disappearing into the night like the stars fading at dawn. And there goes your North Star…

Later, after you’d been talking for a couple of weeks, Wanda confessed something that surprised you. She had noticed you that night too. In fact, she had stared at you the whole night. To the point where Pietro - her twin brother, who practically forced her out of her room that night - teased her about the intense and long stares she was giving you, saying you would soo call the cops on her ass if she continued to look like a creep.

 But she didn’t care. She was drawn to you, too busy admiring you. 

That is, until she saw Kate - your overly affectionate, completely wasted friend - throw her arms around your shoulders and drag you onto the dance floor. Wanda spent the rest of the night pouting like a child, downing a few more shots, and probably plotting Kate’s demise. 

Now, standing here with her, the stars above seem dim in comparison. Wanda is luminous, magnetic, and real—not some distant, untouchable light in the sky. And in this moment, no constellation could ever come close to her.

There was once a constellation named Felis. Created by a French astronomer in 1799 who felt sorry that there wasn’t a cat among the constellations (though that was not entirely true, because the constellation Lynx was formed by another astronomer in 1687). The constellation could be found between the constellations of Antlia and Hydra, a small cluster of stars meant to honor the elegance and mystery of a feline.

You chuckled at the cat-loving astronomer, amused by their dedication to carving out a place for a cat in the vast night sky. But at the same time, you couldn’t blame him when you, yourself, would create a constellation for Wanda. A cat, as well, because she more than half of the time took pride in her black cat personality. 

When finding yourself sad on the news that the Felis constellation has become obsolete, you decided that Wanda Maximoff would be your new Felis. Something you never got the courage to mention to her, but a silly nickname that found its way into your diary every single time you wrote about her

So as you stared at the woman in front you, your brain short-circuited. Though it always did when “Wanda Maximoff” was involved. The first thought that popped into your head was, “I’ll never get over her if we ever break up.” Because how could you? Who else would go to such lengths to make you feel like the center of the universe?

You pouted at her, your face a mix of disbelief and awe. No words came out—just a soft, overwhelmed exhale. The kind of exhale that comes when you realize just how loved you are. 

“Wands…” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda’s smile widened, and she patted the space beside her, a silent invitation. “You’re just going to stand there like a dork or will you join your girlfriend?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes full of affection.

Girlfriend. That word never fails to make your heart skip a beat. You giggled, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside, and quickly climbed into the truck bed. You settled onto the blanket, draping another one over your legs as Wanda handed it to you. 

“This is… wow,” you said, still taking it all in—the stars, the candles, the tree, her. “I mean… you are wow.” Wanda chuckled, the sound warm and low, and leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek before pulling you closer.

The night unfolded in the most perfect way. You lay there together, staring up at the stars, trying to spot the Orion’s Belt as Wanda tried to explain to you how easy it was to find it - you called her crazy right after. The sound of a nearby river added a soothing soundtrack to the moment, its gentle babble mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves. At one point, you gasped, noticing the strings of light bulbs hanging from the tree above. They cast a soft, golden glow, and you realized that’s where the light had been coming from all along. 

After a while, Wanda’s gaze shifted from the stars to you. She had this habit of staring, and while it used to make you blush furiously, you’d grown to find it endearing. You stared back, holding her gaze as long as you could, until the intensity became too much and you had to look away, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“Are you hungry?” Wanda asked, breaking the silence out of sudden, another habit she had.

“Right now? Hmm, not really,” you replied, though your stomach might have disagreed if it weren’t so busy being distracted by the romance of it all.

Wanda nodded, but then, she quickly slid off the truck bed and disappeared toward the backseat. You frowned, curious, and watched as she reappeared with a bottle of wine and two glasses; the wooden board now serving as a perfectly sized table for two. She balanced it between you two, one leg on your side and the other on hers, and then, like some kind of romantic magician, produced two drawing books and a set of crayons.

“What is happening right now?” you asked, half-laughing, as she handed you a half-glass of wine. She poured herself a glass of water, explaining that she’d be the designated driver tonight, as it usually happened. After all, someone had to sneak you both back into the tower and find the way to her room without raising suspicion.

You took a sip of the wine, the rich flavor warming you from the inside out, and glanced at the drawing book in your lap. “So… are we having an art night under the stars?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

And it was exactly that. Wanda had planned a cozy little coloring and drawing session just for the two of you. You leaned partially against her, finding the most comfortable position possible, and your cheeks warmed up when she casually draped her leather jacket over your shoulders. She made sure to tuck the blanket snugly around your waist, making sure that you stayed warm and cozy. You silently thanked her with a shower of soft kisses, making her giggle as she playfully tried to wiggle away—though you both knew she wasn’t actually trying to escape.

Just when you thought she couldn't possibly outdo herself, she hit you with the ultimate surprise: a container of your favorite cookies. Yes, your favorite cookies. Freshly baked. Homemade. You stared at her, eyes practically glistening, and the look you gave her in that moment was so full of love that Wanda was convinced she could die happy, right then and there.

And so, the two of you stayed like that for hours—though it felt like mere minutes. Coloring, talking, kissing, eating, just loving

At some point in the night, when your wine glass had been emptied, with not a single drop to be found and the cookies had long since disappeared, you noticed Wanda giving you a look. That look. You couldn’t pinpoint what was happening inside her head at that moment: after all, you haven't yet got the time to figure out the meaning behind Wanda Maximoff’s indecipherable gazes. And that woman had an entire collection of unreadable expressions.

You weren’t the only one who noticed, though. A lot of people thought Wanda was “cold” or “distant” because of the way she carried herself—her infamous resting bitch face and her preference for not engaging in unnecessary small talk. But you knew better.

You wished people could see Wanda through your eyes. See how thoughtful she was, how much effort she put into the things and people she loved. But at the same time, there was a selfish part of you that liked keeping this version of Wanda all to yourself. You liked having this Wanda just for you. For your eyes to see, your heart to hold, and yours to have..

Especially now, when she was looking at you like that - a “that” that you didn’t even know what it meant or how you could begin to describe it -, her fingers idly tracing up and down your neck, a habit she had picked up a few weeks ago.

“I have another thing for you,” she murmured, her voice so quiet it felt like speaking any louder would disturb the peaceful bubble you had built around yourselves.

“Wanda…” You groaned, though the smile stretching across your face completely betrayed your attempt at scolding her. “You’re spoiling me too much.”

She just shook her head, a smirk playing at the edge of her lips; the red lipstick now smeared on her glass.

You giggled as she helped you hop off the truck bed, steadying you with a firm but gentle grip. But when she led you to the car and opened the backseat door for you, you couldn’t help but frown in confusion.

Settling into the seat, you looked up at her, curiosity swimming in your eyes. Wanda simply closed the door behind her, a small smirk playing on her lips. You didn’t have much time to admire her, though, because in the next moment, you realized you were trapped. Wanda had you against the door, your back somehow comfortably resting against it as she crawled closer and closer to you, until she was hovering over you, her body caging you in.

You turned your head to the side, blushing under the weight of her full and undivided attention. But Wanda wasn’t having any of that. She reached out and gently grabbed your chin, supporting herself with her other arm as she leaned in closer. 

“What? You’re too shy to look at me?” she teased, her face carrying a curious expression, though her voice betrayed her with a mock tone. “You didn’t even drink that much wine.”

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. “I had enough,” you replied, your voice soft but playful, an intense blush quickly growing on your cheeks. Wanda’s smirk grew wider, and she raised her eyebrows at you, humming in acknowledgment. 

Her thumb traced a slow, deliberate path from your chin to your jaw, then down your neck, before returning to where it began. Finally, she moved her thumb to your lips, tracing your bottom lip gently. The touch was feather-light, sending a shiver down your spine.

As she leaned down, it became clear that Wanda just wanted to kiss you right there in the back seat - that’s what she had stored for you there. You smiled up at her, your cheeks burning with a scarlet red shade as you looped your arms around her shoulders, gently pulling her closer. Wanda smiled back, her lips brushing against yours in a way that was soft and teasing, her quiet laugh escaping as she playfully poked your sides.

You kissed her lightly, quick little pecks that made her grin, but Wanda wasn’t satisfied with just that. She cupped your cheek, her touch warm and steady, and paused for a moment, her eyes holding yours - you could lose yourself in her eyes, the soft green piercing into yours with a tenderness so profound it felt almost unbearable, an intensity that seemed to pull at the very core of your being, leaving you breathless and exposed.

She leaned in, and the kiss started slow—gentle, almost hesitant, like she was savoring the feel of your lips against hers. It was sweet, unhurried, and you felt yourself melting into her, your fingers lightly threading through her hair. But the pace changed, the kiss growing more urgent, more intense. Wanda’s hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer. Her other arm tightened around your waist, holding you firmly against her. The softness gave way to something hotter, hungrier, her lips parting as the kiss turned breathless, consuming. 

You stayed there, kissing, for what felt like an eternity—minutes, hours, it didn’t matter as long as Wanda was with you. You could only focus on the way her lips moved against yours, soft and sure at first, then growing deeper, more insistent. Her tongue brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine as she reached down to grab your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your fingers tangled in her hair, gripping lightly as if to anchor yourself, but it only seemed to spur her on.

Every now and then, the kiss would break, just for a moment, as one of you pressed a wandering kiss to the corner of the other’s mouth, or along their jaw, or to the soft spot just below their ear, or just a playful bite at their bottom lip. 

Her lips trailed down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp, and you could feel her smile against you before she returned to your lips, hungry and demanding, exploring and claiming, as if she couldn’t get enough of you. And you couldn’t get enough of her. 

You stayed like that, kissing, touching, completely lost in each other. The world outside the car seemed to fade into the background, and all that mattered was her—the way her hands held you like you were something precious, the way her lips moved against yours with a quiet intensity that made your heart race.

The night stretched on, neither of you noticing the passage of time, too wrapped up in each other’s embrace to give the rest of the world a second thought. But the moment was interrupted when Wanda’s phone slipped from the seat and hit the car floor with a loud thud. The sound startled you both, and you broke the kiss, laughing as you craned your necks to see where the phone had landed.

When Wanda picked it up, you gasped at the screen—3:45 AM glared back at you. “Oh my god… I had no idea it was that late,” you said, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. 

Wanda chuckled softly, the vibration of her laughter against your skin making you smile. Her free hand found its way to your hair, fingers casually twirling a strand or scratching gently at your scalp in a way that made you melt.

After a few minutes like that, you reluctantly pulled away, insisting that the two of you should pack up and head home. Wanda groaned, complaining about how she never wanted to leave, but she eventually caved, giving in to your logic. 

Soon enough, everything was packed and ready to go.

The drive back to the tower was peaceful in a way you hadn’t expected. You never knew a a relationship could be so intense and sweet at the same time. Wanda’s hand rested on your thigh most of the time, her fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns just for the comfort that the action offered. The shared playlist playing softly in the background once again, filling the occasional silences that didn’t really need to be filled.

Sleep was already tugging at both of you, soft yawns escaping more frequently as Wanda drove. But maybe it was the music—one of your favorite songs had come on—or the way her fingers were laced with yours, your index finger idly playing with the rings on her hand, that kept you from drifting off completely.

You sighed, the idea of finally getting the sleep you so desperately graved feeling just out of reach.

“What was that for, sweet girl?” Wanda asked gently, her hand already resting on your thigh giving it a light poke.

“I was so sleepy, but now I don’t think I can sleep at all,” you complained, pouting up at her. Wanda chuckled at your dramatics, reaching over to grab the garage remote from the car door.

“We’ll find your sleep, my love. Don’t worry,” she reassured you, her voice soft and teasing. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, nodding along to her words even though you weren’t entirely convinced.

Now, here’s where things started to get a little tricky. It was well past 4 AM, and the two of you were trying to sneak into the tower as quietly as possible. But there were two problems: 1) some of the Avengers, like Steve Rogers, were known to be up before the sun, and 2) others, like Natasha Romanoff and Bucky Barnes, seemed to have a sixth sense for every single movement in the tower, even when they were supposedly asleep.

As much as Wanda loved her teammates—her ugh, she’d have to admit it—found family, she wasn’t exactly in the mood for a full interrogation about why she was coming back so late, why she looked like she’d been “attacked by a bear” (messy clothes, wild hair, and all), or why her girlfriend looked equally disheveled. So, she did her best to walk as lightly as possible, her footsteps barely making a sound.

But, for some reason, the absurdity of the situation had both of you stifling laughter. 

It all went downhill when her jacket, which was still lazily draped over your shoulders, slipped off. The zipper hit the floor with a loud clink, echoing through the quiet hallway like a gong. You promised yourself you wouldn’t laugh. You really did. But the sight of your usually cool, collected, and slightly emo girlfriend tiptoeing through the tower like a spy on a mission just to get away from nosy adults was too much. The contrast between her usual nonchalant demeanor and the sheer ridiculousness of the moment had you biting your lip to keep from bursting out laughing.

Wanda shot you a look, half exasperated, half amused, as she quickly scooped up the jacket. “You’re not helping,” she whispered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

“I’m trying!” you whispered back, your shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Wanda rolled her eyes, though the smile on her face gave her away. She held your hand tightly, quietly dragging you down the hallway as if you were on some top-secret mission. 

When a door near her room clicked open, Wanda quickened her pace, pulling you along with her. You couldn’t help but giggle at her exaggerated urgency, even though you knew it was completely unnecessary.

She practically yanked you into her room, instantly closing the door behind you. You immediately threw yourself onto her bed, burying your face in the pillows to muffle your laughter. Wanda stood there, arms crossed, looking completely unamused—though she was trying so hard not to laugh.

Once the laughter finally died down, you rummaged through her drawer and pulled out one of her oversized shirts to wear as pajamas. The familiar comfort of her clothes wrapped around you, and you felt the pull of sleep creeping back in. You and Wanda stood side by side in the bathroom, lazily brushing your teeth, the quiet hum of the tower settling around you.

Wanda finished first, and before you could even ask her to stay with you, she hugged you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. She let out a long, dramatic sigh, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off her shoulders. You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back into her for a moment before finishing up. You kissed the side of her face as you set your toothbrush next to hers—a small but meaningful gesture that made your heart swell. 

It was your turn to sigh when you finally curled up in Wanda’s arms, her soft blankets draped over you both. Your arms wrapped around each other, and for a moment, you just lay there, breathing in the quiet comfort of being together.

You shared a conversation that might’ve lasted three minutes—less maybe. As one of you  finally dozed off, and the other followed soon after, finally giving in to the exhaustion of the night. You smiled in your sleep, somewhat feeling the steady rise and fall of Wanda’s chest and the warmth of her arms around you, pulling you into the deepest, most peaceful sleep you’d had in a while.

Before you started dating, Wanda had quickly noticed your insatiable curiosity. You were always asking her questions—about her life, her thoughts, her experiences—and she found it endearing. You’d dive into every little detail she shared, researching things she mentioned just so you could come back with more to talk about. It was cute, the way you were so eager to know every part of her.

So, it wasn’t a surprise to Wanda when she woke up to find you standing in the middle of her room, intently studying the little photo mural she had near her study table. She watched you for a moment, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable as you analyzed every corner of her space.

You’d been in her room a few times before, but most of those visits had been in the dark—escaping from a party she’d convinced you to attend, too caught up in  kissing and taking each other’s clothes to notice the little details. Now, in the soft morning light, you were finally taking it all in: the guitar leaning against the wall, the painting supplies tucked neatly next to her wardrobe, the little trinkets scattered across her shelves.

“You’re very nosy, you know,” Wanda said, her voice soft but teasing, breaking the silence.

“Hm?” You turned to face her, a smile spreading across your face despite the faint pink tinting your cheeks. You hadn’t expected her to be awake.

Wanda grinned at your slightly embarrassed expression, propping herself up on one elbow as she watched you. “You’re being nosy,” she repeated, her tone playful.

“That’s a love language, you know,” you shot back, walking over to the bed with a smirk.

“What? Stalking?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow to tease you further. You nodded, climbing onto the bed beside her. “Yes. It means I like you.”

She let out a fake, dramatic gasp, clutching her chest as if wounded. “Like me?! And here I was thinking you loved me.”

You laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek, then her nose—which made her scrunch it up in that adorable way you absolutely adored—before finally pressing a soft peck to her lips. Wanda smiled, her hands instinctively finding your waist as you settled into her lap.

“So, you’re nosy, a stalker, and a thief?” she teased, her eyes scanning you from head to toe. She made no effort to hide the fact that she was checking you out, her gaze lingering on the way her gray sweatpants and black tank top hung loosely on your frame. Even your damp hair smelled like her shampoo.

“You knew all of that before you started dating me,” you fired back, grinning sweetly at her

Wanda chuckled, her hands moving to your hips as she gently swayed you from side to side, her touch playful and affectionate.

“I can’t run away now, hm?” Wanda teased, arching her eyebrows at you with that playful smirk you loved so much.

You quickly shook your head, grinning from ear to ear. “Nooo, no! You can’t,” you replied, leaning in to kiss her again, as if to seal the deal.

Before Wanda could fire back with another quip, a slightly robotic voice interrupted the moment. It was Jarvis, the ever-helpful A.I. that seemed to know everything happening in the Avengers Tower.

“Miss Maximoff, you have been requested in the kitchen for breakfast. Miss Y/L/N as well,” 

You blinked, surprised. “They know I’m here?” you asked, turning to Wanda with wide eyes. Wanda shrugged, her expression a mix of amusement and nonchalance. 

It didn’t take long before the two of you were heading to the kitchen—after Wanda’s whole morning routine, of course, and a few (okay, maybe more than a few) kisses in between. 

You were kind of used to walking around the tower by now—not enough to feel completely at ease wandering alone in the massive building, but enough to find your way to Wanda’s room, the gym, and the garden without getting lost.

But here’s the thing: even though you were somewhat familiar with the place, you’d never been in a room with all of the Avengers at once. Sure, after Wanda dragged you to one of Stark’s infamous parties, you’d met a few of them. There was Clint, who somehow always gave off “cool dad” vibes. Natasha, who you still couldn’t figure out—did she hate you, or was she just like that with everyone? (Wanda assured you it was the latter.) And, of course, Tony Stark himself, the party host. You’d exchanged polite smiles with a few others, but that was about it.

Being in a room with all of them, casually having breakfast? That was an entirely different beast.

You expressed your nerves to Wanda as the two of you walked down the hallway, your fingers tightening around hers. “What if I say something stupid? Or, I don’t know, spill coffee on Captain America?” you whispered, only half-joking.

Wanda chuckled, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “You’ll be fine,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “They’re just people. And besides, you’ve already survived a Stark party. This is nothing.”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but the way Wanda laced her fingers with yours and gave you that soft, encouraging smile made it a little easier to breathe. Still, as you approached the kitchen, you couldn’t help but feel like you were walking into a lion’s den.

But right now, as you sat at the table with a cup of coffee poured by Tony Stark himself, a stack of pancakes offered by Bruce Banner, and an excessive amount of chocolate syrup drizzled over your plate by none other than the God of Thunder, Wanda found herself feeling increasingly uneasy. 

Everything was about you. They wanted to monopolize your time, your attention, your breakfast. They bombarded you with questions: about your life before Wanda, your life with Wanda, your thoughts on global warming, and even your theories on what lies beyond a rainbow. They wanted to know every single little thing about you, it was like they’d collectively decided you were the most fascinating person in the world, and Wanda couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

She tried, though. Oh, she tried. She crossed her arms, pouting like a child, and reached for you every chance she got—your thigh, your arm, your waist, your hands—but every time she managed to steal even the tiniest bit of your attention, someone else would jump in with a question or a story or a joke.

For heaven’s sake, you were her girlfriend. You were in the tower because of her, to have breakfast with her. And now it was all about them.

Even Natasha, who had always been hard to read, seemed to have taken a sudden liking to you. She poured you more coffee, for crying out loud! And Bucky—ugh, don’t even get Wanda started on Bucky—the man who had been silent all breakfasts until the present day, suddenly became way too curious about your life. Wanda made a mental note to hide his fake arm later.

When Sam teased Wanda about “losing her girlfriend to the team,” her eyes flickered red, jealousy flaring up like a wildfire. Sam laughed, clearly getting the reaction he wanted, but he quickly assured her he was just joking. It didn’t help. Wanda gave up on her nearly finished breakfast and decided to keep both hands firmly on your upper arm, as if claiming you back.

But even that wasn’t enough. After a few more minutes of watching you laugh and chat with everyone, Wanda had had it. She stood up abruptly, sighing heavily.

“The questionnaire time is over,” she announced, her voice loud and clear. “If you’ll excuse me, she’ll spend her time alone with me now. Because she’s my girlfriend.”

Her jealous tone made you chuckle, but you didn’t argue. You waved goodbye to the table as Wanda dragged you down the hallway, her grip firm but not unkind. Before you even made it to her room, Wanda had you pinned against the wall in a dimly lit hallway—somewhere you were pretty sure you’d never been before.

She kissed you like her life depended on it, her hands gripping your waist as if to remind you who you belonged to. You smiled into the kiss, knowing full well this was her way of reclaiming you.

“I can’t believe they took all of my breakfast time,” she complained between sweet, lingering pecks on your lips.

“You know I’m all yours,” you smirked, trying not to laugh at the adorable jealousy she couldn’t quite hide.

She nodded, burying her face in your neck, her arms tightening around you. “Mine,” she muttered, her voice muffled but firm.

But as possessive as she was, Wanda couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness underneath it all. She hadn’t planned on introducing you to her found family like this—not so early in your relationship—but seeing how easily you fit in, how naturally you charmed everyone, made her heart swell. You had a way of making her feel comfortable, of making her feel like she belonged, even in her own chaotic world.

As she’d watched you at the table, your lips smudged with chocolate syrup and your hand lazily wrapped around your coffee cup, she realized something: she could never, ever let you go. 

How could she, when you made her feel like a perfect, solved puzzle—like everything in her life finally made sense?

Because when she was with you, she didn't care if things made sense, they always did if she had you by her side.

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thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌