#close up the restaurant on christmas but here's some more background for my thoughts on it lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsallyscorner · 4 years

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Thank you for the request, love!🎄❤️ Hope you don’t mind, I did some changes but it still follows the concept of your request! I hope you like it and happy reading!!❤️ @palna

💌.

The One I’ve Been Missing

This was kinda inspired by Little Mix’s song, “One I’ve Been Missing”, give it a listen :)

Warnings: some angst? Kinda sad for a Christmas fix..but has a some what happy ending. This came out longer than expected..enjoy, I tired:)

(Gif from Pinterest)

The living room was full of smiles and laughter as your family began to create plans for Christmas Day. It was Christmas Eve, and knowing your family, everything was to come together last minute. Though your family didn’t live too far, they had been staying at your place since the weather at your hometown had been absolutely horrible. There had been snow storms that closed down schools, took out power lines, and covered the ground in a thick white blanket of snow.

Your cousins have been arguing about who was going to make the Mac and Cheese this year when your phone began to vibrate in your pocket. You took your phone out and saw that it was Paddy. Paddy was Tom’s younger brother. Even though you and Tom had broken up, your relationship with his family was still strong. You and his brothers had gotten along so well, that they loved you like you were their sister. His parents, Nikki and Dom, have been very supportive of you during the breakup. They were disappointed in Tom for what he did and even apologized for their son’s actions. Though your relationship with their son was undecided at the moment, they always made an effort to call you on holidays or to just say hello once in a while.

You quietly excused yourself and entered the kitchen. Answering the call, you lean on the marble counters of your kitchen. The call goes through and Paddy’s adorable face pops up on your screen. His smile grows into his rosy cheeks when he finally sees you.

“(Y/n)! Merry Christmas!” He happily screams through the phone. You hear Nikki scold him in the background.

“(Y/n), darling! Merry Christmas!” She smiles while waving at the camera.

“Thank you! You guys look like you’re having a blast over there!” You hear a ton of commotion in the background, which was most likely Tom and his siblings showing off their presents to each other or having some pointless argument.

“We are! Sam’s cooked our lunch and he’s planning on making dinner later today! We’ve already opened presents and everyone’s happy! How are you, love? Are you with your family?” She questioned you as she sat on the couch. You saw Dom beside her, who made a funny face and waved at you. You chuckled waving back.

“I’m doing really good, my family has been staying with me for the last few days, so we’ve been together for about a week now? But everything’s going great! It’s Christmas Eve here and now we’re just waiting till midnight to start passing out presents!” You answer.

“Oh that’s good! I’m glad you got to spend time with your family because I’ve heard the weather there has been harsh! Thankfully Harry made it out before that big storm, if he didn’t he wouldn’t be home for the holidays!” Harry had been in your hometown because Tom was filming a new movie there. The set was only an hour away from where you lived, but you never went to visit. Although, you and Harry would meet up sometimes to have lunch together in the city, Harrison would tag along once in a while as well.

“Harry made it home! That’s good news, I was worrying that they wouldn’t make it back on time for Christmas!” You hear someone talk in the background.

“Is that (y/n)?” A deep voice asks. You recognize it to be Harry’s. Nikki nods and motions at him to say hello. Sam and Harry’s heads pop onto the screen with silly grins.

“(Y/n)! Merry Christmas! You look beautiful!” Sam compliments you with a charming smile.

“Aw thank you Sam! You look handsome!” A light blush forms on the boy’s cheeks. Harry takes the phone and asks, “How’s the weather there? Has the storm died down?”

You glanced out the window and saw nothing but white. The storm had stopped yesterday, but there were some random snowfall here and there.

“Well it’s stopped for now, my backyard is literally nothing but white.” You chuckle as you turn your camera to show your spacious backyard.

“Oh! Isn’t that wonderful, we haven’t gotten much snow here this year.” You hear Dom comment. You turn the camera back to yourself and ask Harry, “How was the flight, Haz? Hope it wasn’t too bumpy.”

Harry hummed, “The plane departed when the storm died down so it was a decent flight. There was some turbulence when we got up in the air but it went by smoothly after.”

“At least you got home safe, that’s all that matters.”

“I’m quite surprised I handled the turbulence well on my own. I was getting anxious when the plane started to shake, but towards the end of the flight it was all good.” Your brows furrowed. It was a known fact that Harry wasn’t that good with turbulence (I made that fact up, he’s probably ok w/ turbulence idk). Since he usually traveled with Tom, he had to board many flights. Tom would be the one to calm his brother down when his anxiousness got the best of him. Which made you concerned because you knew Tom wouldn’t let his younger brother board a plane on his own while a snow storm was happening outside.

“Wait Harry, you were by yourself?” You began to question him. Harry was a grown adult, he’s 21, but it still concerned you.

“Yeah, Tom had to stay back since he had to film more scenes.” Harry answered.

“Oh. Did he at least make it back home before the storm?” You continued. A frown was on the boys lips.

“Nope, he got stuck in (your hometown). I was supposed to still be there with him, but he literally forced me to get on a flight home before Christmas.” Harry shrugged. A pout formed on your own lips at the thought of Tom getting stranded in (your hometown). Also the fact that he was probably alone during the holidays. Sure, you and him weren’t on the best terms, but it was Christmas. No one should be alone on Christmas.

You continued to talk to the Holland family for a few more minutes until they told you they had to go. You bid them all goodbye with kisses and a wave before hanging up. When the call ended, the smile on your face fell. You should’ve been happy. You were spending time with your family and it was Christmas Eve! But some things never change. As always, Tom had crept his way into your thoughts.

The breakup between you two was rough and messy. Though you should have seen it coming. There was a lack of communication on both sides of the relationship. You weren’t being honest with your feelings with him and neither was he. Of course, you understood his job. You knew he would have to travel long distances and be in a different time zone as you, he had to be gone for months, and had to work with some of the most beautiful actresses in the business. But there was something about this certain costar that didn’t sit right with you. You trusted Tom and knew that he would never cheat. You just didn’t trust her. You really tried to like her, even had some conversations with her when you went to visit Tom on set. But the way she would touch his arm whenever she would laugh or look at him the same way you would just made your blood boil. Maybe it was the green eyed monster in you that caused all these emotions, you just couldn’t help it. The green eyed monster had taken over you.

For months while Tom worked on that movie, you had been feeling your lowest. You were insecure about yourself and began to second guess things that occurred in your relationship with Tom. Which was not healthy, but it happens, you know? You hated the way you looked and how your body was shaped. You compared yourself to her even though you knew most of the pictures on her Instagram were very much edited. The more Tom got busy, the less he texted or called. Your relationship felt like it was drifting but you still made an effort. You would text him to ask about his day or to just say a simple “good morning” or “good night”. He never got the chance to reply most of the time, but when he did it would be a short response. It wasn’t like the paragraphs of him going on and on about his day and how great it was. Sometimes he would talk about getting a stunt correctly done in one take or how he would get his lines right the first time. You didn’t think much of the short replies, you usually chalked it up to him just being busy. But then you would see him on Harry or Harrison’s story at some restaurant gathered all together. Then she would also be there, nuzzled up against his side while his arm rested behind her chair. That should’ve been you.

You didn’t want to think that he was cheating on you, but the signs were literally there. You shouldn’t have fallen for them and should have talked it out with Tom instead of focusing on the scenarios that were created in your head. You knew Tom was smarter than that. He wouldn’t cheat on you, he promised you that he wouldn’t break your heart. Then those pictures from the club came out.

They were all over Instagram and Twitter. You had multiple fans tagging you on them and saw them everywhere on your feed. It was as if the world was trying to shove it into your face. The picture was taken at a club, it was the usual group of boys accompanied by some cast members from the movies. You assumed there had been some drinks involved, but Tom looked sober as ever. There were many pictures of them. There were some of them laughing, dancing, and drinking together. You spotted his arm wrapped around her waist or his hand touching her in almost all of them. Finally, there were the pictures of them practically sucking the lips off of each other’s faces. They disgusted you. The way his hands were combed through her hair or how they stroked her cheek reminded you of how he kissed you. You remember feeling sick to your stomach. The pain and the anger blended together as the tears blinded your eyes. It was like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake up from.

You realized you had been staring at your phone for the past 10 to 15 minutes. Tears welled up in your eyes as your memory began to remind you of the scar that Tom had left on your life. You felt the presence of the emptiness in your heart that you thought had healed months ago. You still love him. No matter the bullshit you went through with him, you’ve never loved anyone like Tom. The one you’ve been missing was the only thing that could fix the hollowness in your heart.

“You should invite him.” You jump as your mother makes herself present in the room. You place a hand onto your heart to calm its rapid beating.

“Geez, don’t do that.” You run a hand through your hair as you lean on the counter again. Your arms touch the cold marble, bringing some coolness into your warm body.

“You’ve been gone for about thirty minutes, it’s past twelve. Everyone was worrying about you.” You mother settled herself beside you, instead her back was leaning against the marble.

“You still love him.” She tells you quietly. You’re quick to react and stand up straight, “No I— ow my tongue!”

You whine as your teeth bite down on your tongue, your actions acting before your words.

“I don’t.”

“Really? If you didn’t love him anymore, you wouldn’t be talking to his family still or meeting up with his brothers during the weekend” you mother tilted her head at you, her arms crossed.

You shrugged, “They’re nice people.”

“You know, you should stop avoiding the truth. Denying your feelings and lying to yourself is only going to hurt you even more. I’m your mother, I hate seeing you hurt.” You turned to your mom.

“Don’t you hate him?” You asked her, voice quiet.

Your mother had a look of thought on her face, “Of course, I do, he broke your heart. But I don’t know, there’s just something about that boy.”

She snapped her fingers, “Ah! He reminds me of your dad!”

You raise a brow at her, “Tom reminds you of dad?”

“He does. I remember when we were younger, your dad made the same mistakes. I hated his guts but we crossed paths again somewhere down the road and I gave him a second chance. Now how many years later, we’re married with beautiful children and grandchildren.”

You remain silent as you stare at your phone again. You thought about asking Harry for Tom’s address but you were hesitant.

“He’s probably stuck here for a reason, (y/n).” Your mom says with a knowing look. You sigh rubbing the tiredness out your eyes. It had been a long day and you were low on energy.

“He could also be thinking about you right now.” She hummed, starting to make her way out the kitchen.

“How would you know?” You ask her.

“You bit your tongue.” She simply answers before turning the corner. You were alone in the kitchen staring at your phone once again. The debate in your head continuing throughout the night.

~The Next Day~

Your gloved hands gripped onto the steering wheel as you drove through the snowy roads. You were mindful to keep an eye out for any glossy patches to avoid getting into an accident. You turned on the street Harry sent you and peered out your window to look for the number of Tom’s rented house. Harry texted you that the house was a light gray color with black accents and had a 35 nailed to the door. When you spotted the house that matched Harry’s description, you pulled over and put the car in park. You hopped out the car, shivering when the brisk winter air came into contact with your face. Your boots sink into the snow as you trudge your way up to his door.

You get to his doorstep and began to stomp the snow off your boots. Taking a deep breath you brace yourself before you can ring his doorbell.

“It’s Christmas, he shouldn’t be alone on Christmas, this is why you’re doing this.” You mumble to yourself. You started to shake but you weren’t sure if it were your nerves or the cold. It was probably both.

You finger hovered over the doorbell for a moment before you forced yourself to push it. A string of “fucks” began to play over and over in your head like a mantra.

You waited for a few seconds for him to answer but heard nothing. You debated on ringing the bell again but your feet were already turning you away from the door, too scared to face Tom again. You were about to step off his doorstep when you heard footsteps behind the door. The lock clicked and the door opened to reveal Tom, looking disheveled as ever.

His eyes widen when he realizes it was you who rang his bell. His mouth is agape as he tries to form words. The only thing he could muster out is, “(y/n).”

“Hey.” You breath out, taking him in after avoiding him for months straight. You slowly approach him, settling to stand a few feet away from him. His hair had grown out a bit longer and there was a shadow of some facial hair on his face. You noticed that his eyes were a bit dark, almost blank. It was as if the light in his eyes had disappeared.

“What—What are you doing here?” He began to ask. He rushes to add, “Not that I don’t want you here, I’m actually really glad you’re here, but—um. I’m just— hi.” He sighs, shoulders slumping. He eyes you for a second before jumping on his feet.

“How rude of me, do you want to come in? It’s freezing out here.” He moves to the side and opens the door wider so you can walk in. You didn’t want to enter his place but the warmth of the house and the familiar scent of Tom entranced your senses.

You wiped your boots on the doormat and quietly thanked him as you walked into his rented home. You noticed that Love Actually had been playing on the tv while the couch was occupied with a bowl of popcorn and an abandoned Sherpa blanket. You loosen the scarf around your neck and turn to Tom who was already looking at you.

“So, what brings you around? Thought you didn’t want to talk to me ever since what happened.” His voice is strained as he leans against the doorway to the living room.

“Paddy called me on FaceTime yesterday.” You started. Tom sighed, shaking his head at his younger brother. You wave him off, “Don’t worry, I didn’t mind. He actually helped me avoid a family argument about Mac and Cheese.”

Tom was looking down at the floor but you saw his cheeks slightly raise, “Yeah, you never did mind Padd’s eagerness.”

“Well, he’s adorable. Anyway, I ended up talking to Harry and he said that you got stuck here during the blizzard. Also, that you were spending the holidays alone.” You began to explain rocking on the balls of your feet. You turn to his tv, the voices from it murmuring quietly, “So, if you’re done watching Love Actually for the hundredth time, um, you could come over at my place and spend Christmas with my family.”

Tom pushes off the wall and slowly shuffled towards you. His arms are crossed, something he did when he felt nervous or awkward.

“I wouldn’t want to impose, (y/n).” He finally looks up at you, his familiar brown eyes that you missed so much sending comfort into your body.

“Mom insisted.” A hint of a teasing smile played on your chapstick covered lips. No matter the situation between you and Tom, you knew he could never turn down your mother. He adored your mother, he always remembered the time when you first introduced him to her. She welcomed him with open arms and treated him like he were her fifth child.

He lets out a laugh, looking down at himself, “Guess that means I should clean up then?”

He was wearing a grey jumper with black sweatpants. A blue beanie was on his head, the ends of his curls peaking out, and his feet were covered in socks to keep him warm.

“Yeah.” You breathed out, relieved that he agreed to come and you didn’t embarrass yourself.

Tom begins to dust off the couch and moves the popcorn bowl to the coffee table. He sloppily folds the blanket and fluffs the pillows.

“I might take a while, so why don’t you get comfy?” He suggests.

“Sounds good.” You hum and unwrap the scarf from your neck. Tom is by your side at an instant and takes it from your hand. He motions at your jacket causing you to unzip it. He shuffles behind you to help you remove your arms from the sleeves. You turn around to thank him while moving your hair to rest on one side of your shoulder. You catch him staring at you once again.

“What?”

“You just look really beautiful.” He immediately answers. You’re about to respond but Tom begins to talk again, “I—I know I have no place in telling you that, but you just are.”

“Thanks, Tom.” You quietly say. He nods and moves to hang your things on the coat rack. He’s about to head up the stairs but he turns around to look at you again.

“Can we talk after?” His tone is soft, as if he were afraid of breaking the peacefulness between the two of you.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can talk.”

~⏰~

You wait in the living room for Tom to get himself ready. You try to watch the movie but all you can think about was what Tom and you could possibly talk about. You knew it would be about the breakup, but what else was there to discuss?

You heard Tom make his way down the stairs. Your eyes avert themselves to where Tom was coming from. He wore a dress shirt that had white and cream colored stripes going down it, pairing the shirt with dark jeans and dress shoes. His outfit wasn’t too fancy nor casual, it was perfect for Christmas Day with your family.

The smell of his cologne lingered it’s way to your nose. You recognized the smell even months after not seeing Tom. It was the cologne you had gotten him for his birthday. He fell in love with it the moment you gave it to him and had been wearing it ever since. You honestly thought he would switch it up after the breakup, but according to your nose, he hasn’t.

Tom presents himself to you, standing a few feet away from where you were sitting. “How is this? Too much?”

“You’re good, it’s spot on.” You reassure him. Tom hums in approval before settling himself beside you.

This was it. You guys were finally going to talk.

Tom rubs his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees. He looks at you over his shoulder, “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?”

“Or talked.” You add with a slight shrug. An awkward silence placed itself upon you two.

Tom was the first to speak, “I was a dick. I still am, but I was a dick back then for all the shit I put you through.”

You hesitate to answer but end up agreeing, “You were a dick. But we were both responsible for what happened.”

Tom shook his head, “No, don’t try to make me feel better. I know what I did was stupid and I should have been honest with you from the start. This was all my fault. I was a horrible boyfriend, everyone made me see that. Including my parents.”

Tom turns his body to face you, “I thought not telling you this would hurt you and I less, but it only made it a hundred times worse.” Your brows bunch together.

“What do you mean?”

“I know when we broke up I said a bunch of bullshit, but I just want to explain myself, please?” His eyes are pleading, almost glossy. You motion for him to continue.

“The thing that happened between me and her was all the studio’s plan. Though I’m not going to lie and say it was all their fault, because I also played a part in it. But that was how it started. They wanted us to put on a show and lead the fans on so it could be used as promo for the movie.” He admitted. Your mouth gapes at his confession. He was probably telling the truth, but it could’ve also been a front.

“And you’re telling me this now? What, did it take you eight months to come up with an excuse for cheating?” You angrily said. “And even if it was for promo, it’s still cheating, Tom! You knew you had a girlfriend when you agreed to go along with their stupid plan!”

Tom sighed frustratedly, rubbing his palms against his face, “I know, I know it sounds made up but I swear to you, (y/n) I’m telling you the truth!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me about it from the start? Did you really think lying was better than telling me the truth? I thought we were supposed to be honest with each other, you literally broke so many promises, Tom!” You stood up, the anger fuming in you growing too much for your body.

Tom stood up as well, “I only lied to you to protect you! I thought it would be better if you thought we were drifting apart than telling you I had to be publicly seen with a girl that’s not you! By the way, I wasn’t the only one who was being dishonest, so were you!”

“No, don’t turn this around on me! I wouldn’t have to had lie about my feelings if you would’ve told me the truth! This was all your fault Tom, you’re the one who agreed to some stupid pr stunt.” Your finger jabbed itself into his chest as you told him off about his doings.

Tom took your jabs as he shamefully looked down at his feet. “You don’t think I know that?”

“I know this was my fault, (y/n).” His tearful eyes lock onto yours. His jaw clenched as he tried to stop his tears from falling.

Your hand comes back to rest at your side, “If you knew it would break us up, then why did you agree to it, Tom?”

“Because it was either actually breaking up with you or agreeing to some stunt that’ll make me seem like some Hollywood hotshot who gets all the women.” He confessed. To Tom, it felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders. But to you it felt the opposite. All the new information seemed as if it were piling up on you, making you overwhelmed.

“If I chose neither of them, I would’ve been fired from the film and they were planning on blackmailing me, so I chose the second option. I know it wasn’t the best decision, seeing how we are now. But it was the only choice where I would still be with you.” He explains leaning forward to her closer to you. Your arms crossed to form some kind of protection for yourself.

You had just realized that Tom forced himself into a stunt just so he can still be with you. It wasn’t the best option, but he chose the option where the two of you could still be together. You sighed not knowing how to react, it all just seemed like too much.

“I—Tom you can’t just tell me all of this and expect everything to be okay between us.” You run your hand through your hair. Your eyes watering from the frustration.

“I understand why you would keep it from me, but why did you wait so long? You could’ve said that eight months ago and I probably wouldn’t have hated you as much as I do now.” Your nails dig into your skin.

Tom looks up at you, “You hate me?” He croaks out.

Your head tilts at him, “Why wouldn’t I hate you? I hate you—I’m supposed to hate you but I just can’t and I don’t know why. You’re just, you’re you and no matter how many times I try to hate you I just can’t.”

Tom shifts closer, his frame now towering over you. His fingers slightly brush against yours, causing a rush of electricity to shoot through your body.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything, I know I should have been honest and told you the truth. I know what I did wrong and I’m sorry.” He gently cups your face to look up at him. You missed the feel of his hands against your skin and couldn’t hold yourself back from nuzzling against his warm palms.

“I still love you so much, (y/n). I never stopped. I just—is it too late for a second chance? I know it’s not going to be the same as when we were together but I’m willing to try again. I promise I will try harder and I’ll be honest, I’ll do everything for you to be mine again. All I want is just another chance.” His thumbs brush against your cheeks. Your hands come up to grip onto his wrists.

“Tom, I don’t know.”

“Please (y/n), it’s been so hard without you. Please I just need you again. I miss you so much, everything’s been going wrong ever since you left and I feel empty. I’m not complete without you.” His voice cracks as he begs for you to give him a chance. You stare at him for a moment and your mother’s voice echos in your head.

“He’s probably stuck here for a reason, (y/n).”

Maybe your mother had a point. Things happen for a reason and maybe this was one of this moments.

Your thumbs stroke the skin of his wrist, “Fine, I’ll give you another chance Tom.”

A look of relief is on his face as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you flush against his chest. You feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest as he shoves his face into your neck.

“Thank you.” He mutters against your skin multiple times. “I promise I won’t screw it up, I’m serious.” He pulls away to make sure you’re looking into his eyes.

“I’m trusting you to keep that promise. You’re only getting one chance, Tom.” You warn him. Tom nods eagerly.

“I know, I know, I’m not going to mess this up I swear. I’m going to prove that you could trust me again, I’ll do anything.”

You smile before pressing a light kiss on his cheek, “Ok, if you’ll do anything, then we better get going. Mom’s probably wondering what’s the hold up.”

“Right. Yeah, um before we go. If you want to talk more about what happened before or have any questions, you could ask me anytime. I just dumped all of this on you unexpectedly and it probably feels like a lot.” He offers.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

~⏰~

You and Tom arrived at your house to Christmas music blaring from the tv’s speakers and the happy chatter of your family. Your mom spots Tom at the doorway and her face lights up.

“Tom, you came!” She climbs her way through the mass amounts of wrapping paper and your niece and nephews. Tom meets her halfway and helps her remove the wrapping paper that had stuck onto her pants. She pulls him into a hug, which Tom returns immediately.

“Thank you for inviting me.” He smiles as your mom pats his cheek fondly. She waves him off, “Please honey, no one should be alone for Christmas.”

They continue to talk as your mother leads him into the living room. You see him greeting your siblings and cousins, a shy smile on his face as he shakes their hands. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he interacted with your family. It made you feel whole and warm inside, as if the emptiness in your heart was finally recovering.

You were taking off your boots when a shadow fell upon you. You look up to see Tom standing above you. “Need help?”

“No, I almost had it, the knot’s too small for my nails to undo it.” You mutter as your fingers continue to fumble with the knot. Tom kneels in front of you and gently removes your fingers from your boot.

“Let me do it, I know how fussy you get when you mess up your nails.” You smile fondly at him. The fact that he remembered how you hated messing up your nails after getting them done made the butterflies in your stomach erupt.

He gets the knot undone successfully and pulls off your boot. He holds a hand out for you and you take it. You stand up and thank him before glancing at your clothes.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and clean myself up for lunch. I’ll be back.” You place a hand on his shoulder before turning to go up the stairs. You feel his hand grip onto yours, pulling you back.

“I’ll save you a seat beside me?”

You squeeze his hand, “Yeah, I appreciate it.”

He watches you head up the stairs till the moment you turn the corner. He couldn’t believe you were back in his life. You haven’t changed at all in the months you’ve been apart. You were still beautiful and radiant as ever. He was so thankful for whatever gods that allowed him to have a second chance with you. You were all he wanted and he wasn’t going to screw it up like last time.

Your mother had called for everyone to sit at the table and you still weren’t there. Thirty or more minutes had passed since you went upstairs and so far he’s been catching up with your siblings and cousins. He’s also been dragged into playing “race cars” with your nephews and “princesses” with your only niece. Everyone had slowly shuffled into your dinning room but you were still missing. Tom even hung back in the living room for a while to see if you would catch up.

You mother spotted Tom looking back at the stairs as he decided to join your family in the dining room. She approached him and turned him towards the stairs, “Why don’t you go and check on her, tell her lunch is ready.”

Tom nods and climbs up the stairs. He’s been to your home multiple times while you two were together so he wasn’t lost. He found your door and knocked on it.

“I’ll be down in a sec!” He hears you yell from behind the door.

“Your mom said to call you down for lunch and see what’s been taking you so long.” Tom leans against the wall as he wait for you to open the door. The lock clicks and you pull it open. Your hair was in loose curls and there was some light makeup on your face. You weren’t in the jeans and sweater you were in earlier, now you were dressed in a white sweater and grey knee high boots.

“Hey.” He greets you. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” You close the door behind yourself and stand across from Tom. He notices a shimmer around your neck. The silver chain with a circle charm hanging from it caught his eyes.

“You still have that?” He points out stepping closer to you. You glance at the necklace, “Of course I do. You gave it to me for my birthday.” Your fingers envelope around the charm, fiddling with it.

“You look stunning.” He says.

“Thanks.” The two of you stand there for a moment before Tom’s stomach grumbled.

“I think we should get going.” You laughed as you hooked your hand with his.

The two of you sat side by side at the table. He was a gentleman as always. He pulled your seat out for you and pushed it in once you were settled. He helped passed the dishes to you and even insisted on placing the food onto your plate. Lunch had gone smoothly, it was only filled with laughs, some catching up, and the stories your parents would tell at the table every year.

Your parents were in the middle of retelling their first Christmas together with your older brother, their first born. Your parents were reminiscing about the pearl ring your father gave her and how much it meant to her. You were listening to your parents when you felt a hand grip onto yours under the table. You glance down to see Tom had placed his hand above yours. His large hand enveloping your smaller ones.

“You alright?” You lean closer to him so only he can hear you. Tom squeezes your hand as a small smile forms on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m just glad to be here. Thank you.” He whispers. Your other hand covers his, your thumb stroking the top of his hand.

“So am I.” For the first time in those months apart, you finally felt like everything was complete again. Sure, you two had many things to work out and discuss. But right now, all you can think about was the man sat beside you. You weren’t missing him anymore, he was right there beside you. He was actually with you. All you wanted for Christmas was the one you’ve been missing and after eight long months of pain and longing, your wish finally came true.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland angst #tom holland headcanon #tom holland drabble #tom stanley holland #Peter Parker #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker imagines #ally’s requests

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

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line without a hook.

mingi x reader; lovers to strangers au

word count: 13k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death)

you could personally never understand one’s desire to run as far away from their hometown as they could.

maybe it’s because you’ve had the privilege of growing up in a beautiful, prosperous place, with cozy winters, amazing festivals and snowfalls on the frozen lake before spring came and melted it away.

maybe it’s because you have fond memories tied back to this picturesque place, shops and restaurants surrounding the lake in a way that almost seemed too magical to really exist.

you’ve met so many different people purely because of that sight, men and women of different cultures and backgrounds always so eager to take in your hometown’s natural beauty.

fortunately for you, the lake ran right through your yard and acted as a place of solace where you could get away from everything in the busy, touristy town.

a place you went when you were feeling happy, sad, angry or when, truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel.

it’s also where you first met your boyfriend, one of the many come and go visitors, who introduced himself as mingi.

except he had walked right through your backyard like he owned the place, a small smile on his handsome face as he took in the sight of the frozen water.

he looked at it with such wonder and fascination, like he’d never seen anything like it before in his life; and you can remember that night, even with how you’re feeling right now, that he looked at you the same way.

it’s the only thing that reminds you, at some point, you two must have really loved each other.

two years ago - december 13th

you were hunched over your desk finishing the last of your final essay, only a page left before you could throw every syllabus away and rejoice at having two months of winter break.

it was a chilly night but you couldn’t help but be outside on the porch, a big warm sweater and fuzzy socks on as you read over your work so far.

you’d gotten used to the sounds of nature, the chirping of birds, pitter patter of animal feet and even the loud, slightly terrifying barks of deer.

but the footsteps crunching on the leaves in your driveway definitely weren’t those of chipmunks or rabbits, your strained neck craning over to see a tall figure walking right past your porch and deep into your backyard.

strangely enough, whether it be the frigid temperatures getting to you or the stress of finishing this paper, you weren’t panicked; the man technically wasn’t even on your property, he was right outside of it along the grass that turned to decking.

so you continued to make revisions and edit your paper silently, your eyes fluttering up ever so often to check on the mysterious, tall figure. his shoulders were broad and his hair was messy, that much you could tell from your spot on the porch.

when five minutes past, then ten, then twenty, and he had still yet to move or realize he was in someone’s yard, you decided to investigate - because one, how long could he really stare at this frozen mass of water and two, your head was pounding from looking at this stupid document.

so without an ounce of fear or hesitation, you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body and made your way down to the man.

your slippers were loose so the last remaining bits of snow were seeping into your socks, a slight grimace on your face when the coldness touched your skin.

the sound of crunching snow caused him to turn around, his lips quirking up into a small smile when you came into view.

it was when you got closer that you saw just how attractive he was, pale skin that glowed, plump lips that were slightly chapped and messy hair that looked even better up close.

he looked different than most locals and tourists around here, many of them pastel wearing men who wouldn’t dare stick an earring in their skin.

but the man in front of you had a completely different vibe, earrings and chains and a gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest despite the freezing temperatures tonight.

a few minutes of silence pass, neither him nor you concerned about filling it; it seemed as if he could’ve stared at the lake just as long as you could’ve wondered why the hell he liked it so much.

“aren’t you cold?”

more silence passed and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear your blurted out question.

but then you discover he did when he looked at you with a smirk, the snow crackling underneath him as he shifts to take in your big sweater and pink slippers.

“no.”

it’s a short and simple response but his voice is somehow incredibly warm, looking at you with a twinge of soft light in his eyes before he opens his mouth again.

“why? are you?”

a confused smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head, looking over his bare (muscular) arms conspicuously.

“no. but i’m not wearing a t-shirt in december.”

he sends a smile your way, his large body turning allowing you to fully take in just how big he is. you feel incredibly small next to him and it should probably make you nervous - a large, stranger unwelcomed in your yard and staring down at you.

but there’s a weird sense of tranquility over both of you in this moment, the moon shining off the frozen lake as his gaze meets yours.

“well that’s a good thing,” he hums, your eyebrow quirking up before he continues. “because i don’t have a jacket to give you.”

a surprised chuckle leaves your mouth that has a smile spreading across your face and he feels his own doing the same at the sight of it.

“what makes you think i’d take a jacket from a stranger?”

his eyebrow raises after a few seconds of pondering the rhetorical question, his large hand suddenly coming between your bodies.

“my name’s mingi. i’m staying a few houses over at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

your lips purse together as you wrack your brain for which neighbor it could possibly be, remembering that the woman who brought you left over lasagna for thanksgiving mentioned her nephew was coming for christmas and new years.

she didn’t mention that her nephew looked like this or that he went onto the property of anyone he pleased.

“i’m y/n,” you say, taking your smaller hand in his cold one before a teasing smiles crosses your face. “and we’re actually standing in my backyard. so thank you for trespassing so politely, mingi.”

his eyes widen as an embarrassed look crosses his face, the small hint of pink on his cheeks just as endearing as it is humorous.

“i- i’m so sorry, oh, my god,” he chuckles out, your cold hands still intertwined. “my aunt said i could take the first road i saw to get to the lake. that there was a better view down here than from her house.”

and you can see in his eyes the exact moment his next sentence came into his mind, like he thought it was gonna be the smoothest and coolest thing he’d ever said.

“and it looks like she was right.”

the loud laugh that bubbles out of you is uncontrollable, mingi’s quickly following as his cheeks turn even more pink.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself,” he mumbles sheepishly, sounding completely unapologetic as he finally pulls his hand away from yours; you try not to think about how much colder your hand feels now, quickly sticking it in the pocket of your sweater to compensate.

“right,” you quip, a tiny giggle leaving you as you crane your neck to meet his gaze. “but really, you should probably get a jacket if you’re gonna be out here a lot. you don’t wanna get sick and it can get pretty cold here.”

“will do,” he hums, his eyes roaming yours and making your heart jump in your chest; he really is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

there’s a few beats of silence as he cranes his neck to look out at the lake, eyes roaming what seems like every piece of frozen ice and snowy tree surrounding it.

“my aunt actually told me people sometimes skate on it.”

“yeah,” you confirm with a nod, taking the time to look at the beauty you take for granted every day. “it’s thick enough this year. sometime we’re not allowed.”

“cool,” he says with a smile, a slight shiver running through him that makes you frown. “so... can i come back here to do that?” he asks, his eyes hopeful and soft as he looks at you. “or should i use the real path?”

your eyebrows pull together at his question, confusion covering your face but only meeting his cocky, playful one.

“are you asking if we can skate together?”

he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t smile larger, his tongue peeking out just before his teeth make contact.

“yeah,” he hums lowly, the deep tone of his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. “i guess i am.”

your lips quirk to the side as you weigh out the pros and cons.

you’re on your own a lot and definitely miss talking to someone.

he’s attractive and funny and seemingly nice enough.

you know his aunt and can easily confirm his story, the chances of him being a murderer who moseyed into town considerably low.

the only con you can think of is falling on your ass in front of him and even that it isn’t such a deal breaker.

so you smile at him and nod your head, a melodic “okay,” leaving your mouth that has him smiling back at you just as sweetly.

present day:

you knew going to this dinner with mingi was gonna end in disaster.

you were both too on edge after your fight this morning, past the point of screaming and yelling for hours that, now, you’ll exchange a few harsh words at each other before falling silent.

you’ve learned that the tense silence after a fight is worse than screaming and yelling.

at least with that, it seems as if there’s still some passion there. there’s words being exchanged and feelings coming to the surface that both people feel motivated enough to express.

but with the silence, you’re both bottling it up.

deeming it useless and letting it brew and brew and brew until one of you goes completely over the edge - and more often than not, that person is him.

the car ride over is no better, not even the radio playing to distract you both from the building tension in the air.

your friends know immediately that something is up, yunho eyeing mingi and san eyeing you; yunho, san, seonghwa, and wooyoung had been your friends since elementary school.

you’d been through a lot with them and have seen each other at all your highs and lows.

throughout your two-year relationship with mingi, him and yunho had grown especially close and it was sweet to see; you knew it was important for mingi to have another friend in a place he didn’t grow up in and you were genuinely happy they created a great friendship.

“hey guys!” wooyoung chirped happily, already chowing down on the chips and salsa in the middle of the table. “how is everyone?”

and like he’s almost oblivious to the tension in the room, mingi only mumbles a grumbled “fine,” before he starts happily babbling again. you try a little harder to put up on a happy front, giving wooyoung a small smile as you talk to him about your last semester of school.

as the dinner goes on, appetizers turning to meals and meals turning to alcohol, mingi downs sangria after sangria before he becomes a lot more chatty.

“oh, shit, there he is,” wooyoung smiles happily, a drunken flush to his face as he pokes his arm playfully. “you were scaring me for a hot second. looking all pissed off and shit.”

“that’s because i was pissed off. still am, if i’m being honest, woo,” mingi says, a conniving hint in his tone as he finishes the last of his drink.

your eyes immediately move to him and you’re quick to narrow them, hoping and praying he doesn’t start round two in this public restaurant right now; but apparently, that’s exactly what he plans on doing.

“what’s with the face, y/n?”

mingi spits your name out like it’s the last thing he wants to say, a quietly snapped “nothing,” leaving your mouth.

san and yunho look to each other immediately, concern on both their faces as they feel the tension start creeping back up.

they knew something was wrong the second you both came in, have known things have been off between you two for months, and it was even more obvious when you immediately took the seats a few spots away from each other.

“nothing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely due to his anger and the alcohol. “because it sure looks like you wanna say something.”

“i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“you never do, do you, babe?” he asks, his humorless laugh and vindictive tone making your skin prickle.

“did you even miss me?”

your eyes meet his from across the table when he finally speaks, your eyebrow raising as you two stare at each other blankly.

he had left two nights ago after telling you he needed space, not hearing a word from him until he came barreling through the door just a few moments ago at seven a.m.

you’d just gotten up to make yourself coffee, plagued with worry and upset over your fight and his lack of communication.

“maybe if you looked at your phone, you’d know.”

because how could he think you wouldn’t miss him? how could he think you’re actually okay with him leaving after every fight? not hearing from him for a day or two while you stay in this apartment and let your mind go off into every worst case scenario.

a humorless laugh can only leave him as he shakes his head.

“of course you’re putting the blame back on me. i just can’t make you happy, can i, y/n?”

“you staying after a fight would make me happy. but of course, you can’t do that for me, can you?”

he doesn’t say anything and instead just clenches his jaw painfully tight.

you watch it tick dangerously and instead of feeling anger or sadness, you just feel utterly defeated; you don’t know how many times you guys have had this exact conversation.

a fight will happen.

he yells, you cry.

you just want him to see your tears and obvious pain and stop the yelling.

hold you and kiss your hair and mumble that you guys are gonna figure this out and get passed it.

he leaves, you stay silent.

he just wants you to fight for him a little.

call him out on his shit and prove to his insecure self that you still love and care for him, even though he’s a dick. ask him to please stay because he wants to figure this out and get passed it.

but then he comes back and you’re both okay for a bit, just for the cycle to repeat itself over and over.

“is that why you leave, mingi?” you speak again, looking at him curiously as you shake your head.

“make me sit here and worry about you for days, while you purposely ignore me, just so i can tell you i miss you? is that what you want?”

the words are on the tip of his tongue. that yes, that’s exactly what he wants from you.

but the words are also on the tip of your tongue. that you want his first instinct to be to stay. to stay here and talk things out with you before immediately jumping up to flee.

he wants you to tell him you miss him but you want him to tell you he loves you, that he loves you enough to stay when you guys fight; but right now, neither of you are even sure if that’s true anymore.

“i don’t know about y/n, you guys,” mingi says suddenly at dinner, the drunken slur to his voice evident to everyone. “i love her but sometimes.... i think i actually fucking hate her.”

you feel your heart sink when those words leave his mouth, your face dropping just as the boys call out his name roughly.

“mingi, what the fuck,” san growls from across the table; but the boy is completely unbothered, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looks directly at you.

“how ‘bout you, babe? how do you feel about me?” he asks, leaned back against his chair like he’s completely calm, cool and collected.

“i’m not having this discussion with you right now.”

“you never want to have this discussion,” he mocks, the anger and rage in his eyes only making your blood boil even more.

“i’m getting tired of it, y/n. i’m getting tired of all this shit.”

his voice is raising and you’re becoming increasingly embarrassed, knowing that the last place for this blowout fight is in front of your friends in a public setting.

“mingi, this really isn’t the place to-”

“shut up, yunho, we’re gonna finally-”

but you’re not intending on doing anything, already feeling humiliated and belittled as you get up from your seat and walk toward the door.

you leave your bag and jacket so the boys know you’re not leaving, hoping and praying that your drunk asshole of a boyfriend follows you outside; and sure enough, two minutes later, you smell his familiar cologne when the door opens.

neither of you say anything for the first few seconds, him leaned against the wall and you facing him with your hands on your hips.

“what’s your problem?”

it’s the first thing you think to ask, looking at him with such concern and defeat in your eyes.

you hope he can see it but you’re sure he can’t, far too absorbed in whatever he’s been going through for the past few months to notice.

“i don’t have a problem.”

“you obviously do,” you snap, your voice raising as you take a step closer to him.

“you just embarrassed me in front of everyone and you’re acting like a fucking child. we could’ve had this conversation at the house instead of not speaking for days.”

“why? so you could just turn shit around on me or ignore what i’m saying?” he snaps back, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you. “maybe we need an outside source to listen.”

“not our friends, mingi, and not at a public dinner when you’re getting drunk.”

“you always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snaps, his jaw clenching and eyes flaring as he continues to peer down at you.

“and it’s always on me. when we tried to talk this morning, you blew me off, too, y/n. it’s like you don’t ever wanna have this discussion.”

“because i don’t know what you want me to say, mingi. how many times do i have to repeat myself and tell you i don’t know what you want from me?”

“have you ever thought that maybe that’s the fucking problem, y/n? that after all of this, you still don’t know what i want from you? are you fucking stupid?”

“are you fucking stupid?” you yell back, the suppressed anger and rage you knew was brewing boiling over right here and now.

“you want me to tell you that i miss you when you leave every other week, mingi? why would i tell someone that who could give a shit? i could tell you i miss you or that i’ll miss you and you’ll still fucking leave me.”

“how do you know?” he snaps, “you’ve never tried!”

“i’ve never tried?” you yelp, tears of frustration burning your eyes as you look at him.

“what’s me texting you when you leave like a little bitch every single time? or me obviously worrying when you pull that stupid shit over and over? i’ve been trying mingi and you don’t care! you leave me crying alone every single time!”

he meets your gaze with fire in his eyes and you can only stare back with tears in yours, waiting for him to scream something before he decides to kick over the metal garbage can a few feet away from you.

you watch as it clatters against the side walk, a loud, deep “fuck!” leaving him as you watch him blankly. his chest is heaving and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now but you also don’t know anymore.

because you’re shaking inside and out and feel like you wanna throw up, knowing that right now you both look like the worst type of couple; but it’s nothing compared to how you feel, how even though you don’t want to, you can’t stop yourself from acting out on these negative feelings.

“and if i never try, mingi, then just leave again,” you say, tears blurring your vision and a lump growing in your throat. “you can stay and come home with me tonight. or you can leave. at this point, i’m too tired to care.”

you weren’t surprised to go home alone that night.

watch as seonghwa and yunho helped your boyfriend to their car and promised that he’d be back in a few days; you were only able to sleep soundly that night because you knew he was safe with them.

but it didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep that night, the night after that and the night after that for the next week; the same would’ve probably happened the next night, too, at least for a little bit, had you not heard your front door open just after midnight.

you were getting in one last episode of your drama when mingi returned home, craning your neck back to see him lazily kicking off his shoes at the front door.

his head looked up to meet your gaze, the glow of the tv hitting him just enough to tell you he looked like shit.

he had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled messily, like he hadn’t washed it since you last saw him. his face was sunken and pale as if he’d been away in the wild for months opposed to his friend’s house for just a little over a week.

but when he’s away from you, this is what happens each and every time - he can’t sleep or eat or function properly.

he’s only plagued with the thought of you, memories running through his mind or constantly wondering what you’re doing. if you’re safe and feeling okay or if something bad is gonna happen to you because he’s not there.

the couch dips next to you before you feel his skin graze yours, a quietly mumbled “hey,” like he just came in from work casually spoken through the air.

you crane your neck up at him to look in his sunken eyes, an uncontrollable frown on your face as you swipe your finger across his purple skin.

it’s the softest touch he’s received in a week and he’s missed it more than he cares to admit. shutting his eyes and smiling slightly when he hears you mumble “hi” back.

you bask in each other’s comfort and warmth for the rest of the episode in silence, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wound tightly around you until the tv screen falls black.

you two walk into bed and he pulls you down with him, your head falling to his chest and his hands in your hair. you moan against him sleepily and it’s a sound he’s missed so dearly, tightening his hold on you as he feels his body immediately relax.

you’re both completely comfortable and at ease, days of worrying finally calmed as you’re beside one another again.

but even with this comfort, even with the familiar feel of each other’s skin and warmth soothing both of you, you know it won’t be enough.

because you still don’t say you missed him and he still doesn’t tell you he loves you.

a year and 11 months ago - january 10th

you weren’t sure if it was possible to fall in love in less than a month but it really felt as if you and mingi did.

from the moment you saw him two days after your initial meeting, skating together and braving the frozen lake together, your connection was immediate.

you’d spent everyday with each other, frolicking through the town in the afternoon before going back to your house at night.

you usually spent it cuddled up on the couch or making food in your kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist before tossing you up on the counter playfully.

“you didn’t strike me as a chef,” you tell him, watching him stir a pot of noodles with a content look on his face.

“well, i didn’t strike you as a rapper either,” he says, a smirk on his face as a giggle leaves your mouth.

you learned that mingi was an aspiring rapper, him and his friend hongjoong trying to get their foot in the door for the past year. you listened to a few of their songs and even got a live performance from him, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you watched him.

in a fit of absolute astonishment, because you didn’t think mingi could get any more attractive, you blurted out that he didn’t seem like a rapper. that his personality was too “cute and charming” despite the deep growl to his raps and voice.

“i told you just personality wise,” you whine with a pout, reaching your hand out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “but appearance wise, absolutely. you’re very tough. very cool looking. i’m scared of you.”

“you’re making this a lot worse for yourself, baby,” he hums lowly, another giggle leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lip.

“did your friend hear back from that producer yet?” you ask him curiously, your legs criss-crossed as you sit on the counter and peer up at him.

he looks over to see you staring at him all wide-eyed and interested, a soft, happy glint in your gaze that makes his heart pull in his chest.

he hasn’t even known you for a month but he’s never been this happy before.

he’s never had anyone be there for him the way you’ve been, dedicating their time to him and being so actively interested and supportive of his decisions; it also doesn’t help that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both inside and out, that made him extend his trip a week longer.

he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to you yet and he’s still not sure if he can; he’s grown incredibly attached to you and it’s something he’s never felt before.

something all consuming and magical that’s making him incredibly vulnerable.

“not yet,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your face.

your eyebrows pull together when you notice the way he’s looking at you, soft and sweet with a fondness that makes your heart flutter dangerously.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

a smile crosses his face as he lowers the heat on the stove, caging your body in and cocking his head to the side. he bites down on his lip when he sees your eyes widen, a large hand coming up to push pieces of hair out of your face.

“because i’m happy i met you.”

a small, touched smile pulls at your lips as you peer up at him, raising your own hand to smooth out the chain around his neck.

your fingers brush against his warm skin and it’s like there’s electricity coursing through both of you, your bodies close and hot breath wafting together.

“i’m happy i met you too, mingi.”

his heart soars at the way you say his name, eyes falling to your lips as he presses himself closer to you. you push yourself against the cabinets, swallowing the lump in your throat when you follow his gaze.

your tongue peeks out to lick over them unconsciously, your own eyes falling to his lips. you feel your stomach swoop dangerously, wanting so badly to feel them on yours - they’re one of the first things you noticed about him.

“y/n?”

“hm?” you hum, your eyes lingering on his mouth before hazily meeting his eyes; and there you see it, the soft intensity you’ve yet to grow used to.

you’ve seen this look from him more times than you can remember despite the short time you’ve known each other.

on the lake when you two were skating, grasping each other’s hands and giggling as you tried to keep yourselves from falling back.

in town when your hands bumped and you’d stop dead in your tracks to look at each other, completely unaware of the people around you giving each other knowing looks.

on the couch when you’d allow your head to rest on his shoulder, cuddling closer to him because the weather is really cold for january and you need body heat.

but it’s never been as strong as it now.

your heart’s never been beating this fast and you haven’t been able to feel his own pounding against his chest. probably because he was nervous to ask-

“can i kiss you?”

neither of you can remember what happened after he uttered those words.

just that one minute, he said it and the next, your mouths were connected. parting on one another’s as he completely caged your body with his.

your arms wound around his neck and he hummed contently against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he had half the mind to turn off the stove before carrying you to the couch, your legs wound tightly around his waist as every hint of desire and want overtook you.

he plopped himself down as you situated yourself on his lap, lips never disconnecting. you moaned against him when you felt his body underneath yours, tongues colliding and mouths pulled into smiles.

his hands gripped onto your hips gently, pulling your body closer to his as your kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

you finally pulled apart for air with heaving chests and red, puffy lips, your eyes meeting and every hint of vulnerability and longing in them.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he finally says softly, almost whispering it in fear that someone else would hear.

but this house is empty. it always is and it has been for quite some time.

until you met him and he completely changed your life.

now there were two pairs of shoes at the door and two empty cups in the sink. there was someone to talk to and someone to be in the silence with.

because you’ve learned over this past month that even a silence with someone else is way better than the silence of being alone.

“me... me too,” you admit shyly, a warm blush creeping up on your face. “i’m... really, really happy you’re here, mingi.”

his eyes widen when he sees tears well up in your eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown as he brings his hands to your face.

but you only shake your head before he can comment on it, placing your hand atop his before connecting your lips again.

he meets the kiss with the fervor you need, everything about it soft and sweet and passionate. like you guys know time is running out and you need to fit it all in.

“that producer got back to me and wants to meet in person so you’ll be home next week, yeah?” hongjoong asked mingi over the phone, the boy laid out on his bed a few days later.

he can only keep replaying the memory of you in his mind, the tone of your voice and the teary look in your eye when you told him how happy you were that he’s been here.

there was a certain type of sadness behind you that he hasn’t been able to shake, making it incredibly hard for him to pick a day to just pack up his car and go.

“i... uh. i don’t know, yet.”

“what?” hongjoong asked.

him and mingi had been waiting to meet producers for months, getting either put on a list or straight up rejected. and now when they have a chance, “you don’t know yet?”

mingi licks over his lips as he hears the disbelief in his friend’s voice, knowing that hongjoong won’t be able to believe this. they’ve been waiting for this moment ever since they were in high school and had the dream of rapping as a duo.

he was only supposed to be here for a few days and now it was almost a month. what could possibly be keeping him there? what could possibly have made mingi-

“what could you possibly not know, mingi? we’ve been waiting for this moment for years. you even extended your trip for a bullshit reason thinking i’d really buy it.”

“okay but my aunt really did need help around the house...” he mumbles because yes, she needed help around the house as she redid her bathroom but she was quick to hire professionals so, technically not a lie.

“so what, what’s your excuse this time? did you meet some chick?”

there’s a silence that stretches over the phone for what feels like hours, mingi attempting to find any words before hongjoong lets out a loud groan.

“a girl? mingi, are you fucking kidding me?”

“i really like her, hongjoong,” mingi tells his friend, a sweet genuineness and innocence in his deep tone. “i really, really like her and i... i don’t think i can leave her yet.”

he reluctantly opens up to hongjoong about you, telling him that you’re in school and live alone in this quiet little lake town. that you and him have been spending every second together and he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

“i’m happy for you, man, i really am,” hongjoong says, never having heard his friend talk like this before. “but i mean... is she worth changing your plans? what the hell is there for you?”

he wants to say that you. you’re there.

the girl he’s known for less than a month but has gotten him so tight around her finger - and once he leaves, will still be here.

except she’ll be within the walls of her house all alone again, in a town based off people coming and going where she’s never seemed to have a stable relationship with anyone.

where she now knows what it’s like to spend every day with someone and look forward to their company every morning and night. spend hours talking until the sun rises and sleep until it’s dark out.

“i wouldn’t be changing my plans that much. i still have our music, hongjoong. we can still do shit even if i live here.”

“live there?!? hongjoong blurts out, “you’ve been there for a less than a month, dude, that’s fucking crazy. you’ve barely know her and you’re gonna move there?”

“i can’t leave her.”

he didn’t think at the time that it was crazy. he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret that decision because, at the time, he really couldn’t imagine leaving you.

he couldn’t picture himself hugging you goodbye and telling you that you’d keep in touch via texting and facetime.

he couldn’t picture going back home with a genuine smile on his face when it felt as if he left behind something, someone, would could make him the happiest he’s ever felt.

he couldn’t picture that he’d ever come to resent you because when he told you he was gonna consider staying in town longer, a bit more permanently, the smile that lit up your face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“really?” you smile, jumping up from your spot on the couch and running over to him.

you’re so smiley and happy and bouncy until you’re not, your face dropping ever so slightly when you look over his face.

“but wait... what about the producer? did he ever answer?”

“he did. hongjoong’s meeting with him tomorrow.”

your eyes widen at the news but he’s quick to cut you off, bend down and press a long, lingering kiss to your lips before scooping you up into his arms.

“but i told him there was something better for me here.”

present day:

he wasn’t sure when the resentment started.

he just knew that, one minute he loved you, and the next, he started to question everything.

it could’ve been from seeing hongjoong’s success, album after album and talk of him all over social media right in his face every day.

it could’ve been his lack of success, pursuing a music degree via online school while still keeping up with his previously established career as a rapper; it was enough to get the bills paid and keep his name lingering around but that’s all it was now.

it could’ve been that all of his passion was gone and he blamed you for that; because if it weren’t for you, he’d be with hongjoong now. he’d be making money and feeling inspired and at the peak of his creativity and motivation.

but he loves you, right? he loves you more than he’s loved anyone in the world and he made the right decision.

“sometimes i question if i made the right decision.”

it was a relativity quiet night for you and mingi, the past few days calm and uneventful, so you knew a fight was bound to happen soon.

and with that statement, it seemed as if the night was quickly headed in that direction.

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your textbook.

he was sat on the love seat opposite you, computer in his lap and a beer on the side table as he watched you. he’d been wordlessly watching you all night and you hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

now, you can see, he might’ve been watching you with disdain.

“i mean i sometimes wonder if i made the right decision in staying here. just... so quickly not accepting that producer’s offer with hongjoong’s.”

his words hurt you more than you let on, your stomach sinking and knotting as you let his words sink in.

you had asked him for weeks after he made that decision if he was sure.

if something he worked so hard on and something he looked forward to for so long was something was worth giving up.

and anytime you asked, he’d say the same thing.

“you’re worth it.”

you wonder now if he said it so many times to qualm your ever present worries or to convince himself. tell himself over and over again that, yes this girl is worth staying here and no, i won’t come to resent her.

it’s something you worried about in the beginning but faded with time.

because your love grew stronger and you both became more secure. your relationship was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced.

but not now.

now it’s a fucking disaster.

“where did that even come from?”

you can hear to your own ears how shaky and unsure your voice sounds. it’s filling you with as much shame as it does embarrassment, knowing that you can’t even talk to your own boyfriend openly and honestly.

without feeling upset, like you know you have to walk on eggshells or can’t express how much he’s been hurting you.

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking,” he hums, taking a swig of his beer as he adjusts himself on the couch.

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, only humming lowly as you nod your head.

you lick over your lips as you look back down uncomfortably, blankly staring at the words of your textbook. your brain can’t absorb any of the terms or phrases on the page, the sinking, awful feeling in your stomach taking over.

you can’t even remember how long you’ve felt like this.

when butterflies turned to this gut wrenching, awful feeling.

like the feeling before a plane takes off or you have a presentation to do or when the one person you’ve loved in this world has decided they don’t want you anymore.

“i stayed for you.”

the words you feared hearing pierce the air and you hold back a shaky breath, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly you’re hit with the metallic taste blood.

you look up and see his eyes narrowed in on you, tears burning the back of yours as you beg them not to fall.

because you can’t keep crying in front of him just for him to ignore you. to just watch you lose it with a blank look in his eyes, instead of holding you or attempting to soothe you.

“i couldn’t leave you alone in your house,” he begins, like the words he’s rationalizing in his head are coming out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“i wasn’t ready to leave you yet and i didn’t even think twice about how i would feel in the future. because i was so fucking consumed by you, y/n.”

there’s an obvious and palpable pain in his voice and it makes your gut wrench even more; you hate that he’s in pain but you’re in pain, too. you were in pain before him and now you’re in pain because of him.

“i’m still consumed by you but i feel...angry now. i feel so fucking angry, y/n, and i don’t know why. i don’t know if i’m mad at you or myself but i know i stayed for you. if i never met you, i never would’ve stayed here and now i feel like i’m stuck.”

“but i never asked you to stay, mingi,” you whimper out, the tears quickly coming to the surface.

they’re a mix of sadness and frustration, because it hurts so much hearing this, the obvious regret in his words, but it also makes you mad - that was his choice and his choice alone.

and it’s like he knows that too. because he doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to stare at you with a look in his eye that breaks your heart.

“i asked you so many times if you were okay with doing that,” you begin after moments of silence, your teary, wet gaze meeting his. “i asked you again and again because i knew you’d come to regret it.”

“i’m not saying i regret it, i’m just saying i-”

“you’re saying you stayed here for me like it’s my fault,” you say, shaking your head as tears leak from your eyes and down your cheek. “like i asked you to and like meeting me was your downfall. but i never told you to and i would’ve never ever expected you to.”

“what, so i was just supposed to leave you alone?” mingi growls lowly, emotion behind his tone that’s almost masked by the brashness.

he can’t help but feel all of this coming up, all of these feelings he’s been going through these past months and making him a completely different person.

“why would i have left you when i knew i loved you?”

neither of you focused on loved being past tense, probably because it’s a fact both of you know by now.

“i didn’t want anything else but you in that moment.”

“do you want a prize, mingi?” you snap, every defensive and defeated emotion coursing through your veins.

“you could’ve left me alone. you could’ve just left the way you wished you did so fucking badly. you would’ve saved yourself all of this obvious regret.”

“you think i regret staying with you?” he asks, his voice low and deep as he rises from the chair.

his frame is tall and broad and looming as he walks closer to you, standing over your chair as you sit there and stare up at him. his eyes roam your face and he follows the few tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands stiffly hanging at his sides.

he used to hate seeing you cry.

it used to make him wanna destroy whatever was hurting you. he used to kiss your tears away and wouldn’t let you leave his arms until you were smiling and laughing again.

“well, what do you call this?” you whimper quietly, sniffling and stuffy and feeling small tears stream down your face.

“you basically said if it weren’t for me, you’d be happier with your life. and i... i was so happy when you decided to stay, mingi, i’m not gonna lie to you. i was so happy because i knew we would love each other so much,” you whimper out, the knot in your throat making it difficult to speak.

“but i also knew that one day, you would probably regret it and resent me. it’s why i asked you over and over and over again. because i was so scared this was gonna happen.”

his mouth grows dry as he licks over his lips, a burning behind his eyes as he hears your voice break. he’s quick to shake his head and blink away the tears, though, because he knows if he starts crying, he’s never gonna stop.

“i thought you would leave with me eventually,” he’s finally able to get out, his throat clogged and voice gruff as he voices his innermost thoughts and wishes.

you compromised for him once, why wouldn’t you do it again?

“i thought if you actually loved me the way you claimed to, you’d be able to go.”

“well, i was always honest with you about that too,” you murmur, feeling utterly defeated and guilty as you meet mingi’s glossy eyes. “you know i never intend on leaving.”

a year and 5 months ago - june 19th

he learned about your parents accident on the 4th year anniversary of their death.

he had noticed that week you were especially gloomy, a sad look in your eye and the fake smile on your face making him cling to you just a bit more than usual.

and apparently, you had noticed too.

“mingi, are you okay?”

the words were muffled against his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as the two of you lay on the couch. his hand had been running up and down your back gently all night, like he’d been trying to calm you without any words.

like he knew there was something wrong, even though you hadn’t said a word.

his eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing his fingers under your chin. he lifts your face as his eyes search yours, that sad look behind them masked by a soft curiosity.

you’re trying to hide your pain because you think he’s hurting and that alone only makes him even more sad.

“of course i am, baby. but are you okay?”

you can’t find it in you to say yes so you only nod shyly, a small smile gracing your face as you look at him.

his eyes are full of such warmth and love that it makes tears prick behind your eyes, dropping your gaze quickly as you bury your face back in his chest.

the movement causes him to swallow nervously, adams apple bobbing as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

he knows something’s wrong. he knows something’s very wrong but he doesn’t know what happened or what’s brought this on.

“you can tell me anything,” he mumbles against your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. “you know that, right?”

because he also noticed that you started seeming off when he mentioned moving in together, looking at apartments in town for himself before getting the idea to live with you.

you guys are already together all the time, it only made sense for you two to live together as well.

but he could tell immediately the idea unsettled you, you clutching desperately on to him as you muttered that you’d think about it.

at first, he would’ve assumed you didn’t wanna go that far with him. that it was too serious a commitment and you were completely uncomfortable with that.

but it was the way you were clinging to him, burying your face in his chest like you were begging him not to leave you that made him realize something deeper was going.

it’s why he dropped it at first. looked for apartments on his own with the idea that, best case scenario, you’d move in with him too.

could that be what’s wrong right now? you dealing with moving in with him and fears coming from that? or something else entirely?

he just knows that when he starts to hear you cry quietly into his chest, he needs to know what’s been wrong because he hates seeing you like this.

“hey, hey, hey,” his deep voice mumbles, large hands pulling you from his chest and wiping at your face. “what happened, baby? what’s wrong?”

and since you started crying about this, remembering the day and the circumstances around it so well, you won’t be able to stop. you can only continue to cry into him, tiny sobs wracking your body as you clutched onto him tightly.

“i... i can’t.”

you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell him, he wasn’t sure.

that’s why he shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, the warm safe place you’ve come to know so well and usually calmed you whenever you needed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong but i promise you’ll be okay,” you hear him mumble against your head, his hand running up and down your back gently. “i’ll try to help you in any way i can, baby, but i’m gonna need to know what’s wrong.”

but he can’t help you bring back your dead parents.

he can’t help you time travel the way you so desperately wish you could to tell yourself not to go on that senior trip.

that if you didn’t go, your parents never would’ve driven you to the airport and they never would’ve gotten in the car accident that took their life on the way back.

you’d spent a week in a foreign country while they spent a week in the hospital, your aunt and grandparents dealing with the repercussions before you came back and said your goodbyes in a dingy, hospital room.

mingi doesn’t know how long you both sat there in silence, your cries muffled against his chest and his arms wound tightly around you.

he loosened his hold immediately when he felt you try to pull away, watching as you stared at him, wiped your eyes and told him everything.

“my parents died four years ago, today.”

he watches with soft, sympathetic eyes and a breaking heart as you tell him about your guilt.

how if you just decided to stay home after weeks of begging them to go, they’d still be here.

“they didn’t have the money but i begged them for weeks, mingi,” you tell him, tears in your eyes and voice thick with emotion.

“i wanted to go so badly because all my friends were going and i was too selfish to see they really couldn’t afford it.”

he can tell you’re not done talking so he only presses his lips together and grasps your hand tightly. squeezes it reassuringly as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against your skin.

“they both worked overtime for two weeks straight and gave me the money the last day it was due. and i barely thanked them,” you remember, the scene you’ve replayed in your mind hundreds of times flashing yet again.

you jumped up from the couch and snatched the money from their hands, throwing your arms around them in a quick hug before screaming your thanks and running up to your room to tell your friends.

“a drunk diver hit them on their way home from the airport and the doctors couldn’t believe they both didn’t die on impact. a-and no one in my family could even call me so i said my goodbyes when i got home, in the hospital.”

you look to mingi with tears streaming down your cheeks and you see wetness in his own eyes, his hand grasping onto yours tight.

“i couldn’t even talk to them one last time. or hear their voices. i don’t even know if they heard me.”

your voice breaks off after that, not being able to handle recounting this after years of staying silent about it; he’s the first person you’ve talked to about this besides the counselor you saw a few months after their death.

he pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth as he presses his lips to your head.

your eyes are closed tight as you focus on his breathing and soft murmurs. his deep, full voice muttering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances.

that your parents did hear you and they loved you till the end.

that it was no one’s fault but the driver who decided to get in a car after getting drunk.

that you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself, because your parents would want you to be happy and thriving.

“i know but it’s just hard,” you tell him, you teary face pulling away from his wet chest.

you look around the living room full of books and wooden furniture, a family portrait hung above a cluttered-filled desk; it was taken when you were ten and you remember hating that day because you had to wear an uncomfortable dress and tights.

“i don’t know how i’m ever gonna leave this place,” you voice aloud to him, one of the many concerns that muddled your mind when you started deciding on college or jobs or moving in with your perfect boyfriend of almost a year.

“it’s the last thing i have of them. i don’t... i don’t know if i’d be ever to leave this place, mingi.”

not after what happened last time.

not wanting to leave the house you grew up in to strangers who would create more happy memories and replace the ones you made with your own parents.

his face contorts into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking as the obvious guilt and dread is in your eyes.

he’d always seen a bit of torment behind them but you were always able to smile.

laugh with him and tease him and push whatever demons he knew you had aside; but he started seeing it again when he mentioned moving in, fear and anxiety and discomfort that he hated to even see behind your eyes.

“i don’t know how that will effect us, it’s something i’ve thought about a lot recently,” you confess quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. “especially when you mentioned us moving in together. i... i want to, so bad, because i love you and i think it’d be fun. but... i can’t leave.”

your tears start up again and a frown crosses mingi’s face, his body hovering over yours as he takes your face in his big hands.

he wipes at the tears threatening to slide down your cheeks before placing his lips on your head, breathing slowly and calmly against you as his warm breath wafts over you.

“baby, i understand completely, i really do,” he says, everything making sense now but... “but i don’t think your parents would want you to... limit your life like this.”

because you obviously had an interest in seeing the world. you obviously wanted to see different places and cultures and sights in the world that even your precious little town doesn’t hold.

but he can see tonight isn’t the night you’re gonna see that, if the way you shake your head and bury yourself back in his chest doesn’t show that.

and because he loved you more than anything else in the world, he understood it. held you and kissed you and made sure you knew he’d be by your side in whatever way you needed.

it was with his patience and love and unconditional support that you were able to live with him. keep your parents house as a sense of security but slowly move yourself out of it.

leaving a toothbrush at the apartment, a few sets of clothes, some shampoos and soaps until one night, you were waking up and falling asleep with him every morning and night.

present day:

the fight that ended you and mingi was over a trip to disney.

something meant to be so childish and fun and innocent morphing into a blowout, gut-wrenching fight that left the two of distraught.

hit both of you with the realization that whatever you once had had fizzled out and turned so horribly toxic, you were both losing yourselves.

it had started with yunho, san and wooyoung planning the trip, mingi over their house one day after the tension in the apartment got too much. he had scoffed when san mentioned it at first, wondering what business they had as college going twenty-somethings booking a trip to disney.

“it’ll be sweet!” san said, “we could go to the parks for a few days, everyone loves roller coasters! and then we can drive down to the beach, go surfing and go to bars and shit. it’d be so much fun, guys.”

and the more all of them thought about it, the more excited they got. looking at flights and car rentals and getting all their swim suits in order - that was until mingi came back home a day later and informed you of these plans.

“me and the guys were talking about booking a trip to disney,” was the first thing he said to you. not a hello or how are you or sorry for leaving and making you worry for a week.

“oh?” you hummed quietly, looking up from your spot at the kitchen sink; you’d made breakfast for two just in case he came home early but it was another serving of eggs and bacon in the trash.

“yeah, so is that something you’d wanna do?”

there’s something off about his tone that you immediately pick up on. snippy and on edge and defensive, like he’s already fully prepared to break out into a fight.

because he already knows you won’t do it. you won’t leave the 70 mile radius you’ve trapped yourself nor will you even try to go out of your comfort zone for him and you or anyone else.

and quite frankly, he’s grown really fucking sick of it. call him selfish or call him someone looking out for you, someone who knows this type of living isn’t normal, he can’t deal with it anymore.

“i... well i mean...how would we get there? and when?”

“we were looking at flights three weeks from now,” he says, carefully observing your face with slightly cold eyes. carefully waiting for the next hint of a breakdown he’s not gonna properly respond to.

you bite the inside of your cheek as panic starts to stir in your chest.

you haven’t been anywhere since the accident. you’ve gotten yourself so used to this environment that going anywhere else seems terrifying.

but you’ve seen how bad things will happen when you try to venture out. you left to do the same and it cost your parents your life - who’s to say you wouldn’t get your karma soon?

leave mingi without a girlfriend he doesn’t even care about anymore or your grandparents without a granddaughter you can’t help but feel they blame for their child’s death.

tears are quick to prick your eyes as you try to push down all of these feelings, looking down at the floor in a move mingi already knows is dismissive.

you hear him scoff and it sends a flurry of emotions through you, not even needing to lift your head to know he’s shaking his head.

“figures,” he hums lowly, making extra noise as he puts down his bag or plops down on the dining room chair. “i don’t know why i bothered asking.”

“mingi...” you begin breathlessly, guilt and shame and sorrow filling you.

“no, y/n.”

his voice is firm and hard and makes you meet his gaze, the look he’s throwing you icy and completely empty. he’s done and you’re done and there’s basically a ticking time bomb between you two.

“you didn’t even let me give you an answer.”

“because i know what it’s gonna be!” he roars, feeling stupid for getting excited when he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to leave. “i know you’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse about school or work or money and you’re gonna say no.”

you can’t say anything because you know he’s right. but what he doesn’t know is that you’re trying. you try every day and every week and every month to push yourself out of your comfort zone and it just doesn’t work.

you’ve tried going away with him and you’ve tried expanding your horizons - you’e even moved out of your parents house to live with him. but it’s hard when you’re constantly reminded by the fact that your decisions ended a life.

while it was technically the drunk driver’s fault, your survivors guilt heavily outweighs that. intrusive thought after intrusive thought until you start to question why you’re even still here, too.

“i’m trying, mingi,” you say, your voice shaky and defeated. “i’m trying but you don’t even see that.”

“how are you trying?” he asks, watching your dejected form a few feet away from him. “you haven’t done anything different since you moved in with me. we’ve been living the same life for the past two years, y/n.”

but you just remember how patient he was when you first tried moving in. how he was so patient and kind and gentle and was everything you needed him to be.

but he can just remember how much he loved you. how patient and understanding he was, not fully grasping the severity of what happened to you and how incapable he was of dealing with it.

“i’m... so fucking sick of it. i’ve grown to be so sick of you and i hate that, y/n. i hate feeling like this but it’s the truth.”

“and you don’t think i am?” you blurt out, the dam of tears breaking as you hear him say those specific words to you - i’ve grown to be so sick of you.

your frame is smaller and fragile and you’re like a shell of the person you were when you first met as you make your way up to him, looking over him with all the pain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“you don’t think i’m sick of feeling this way? of seeing how much you obviously hate me and are over this when i can’t stop feeling this way? because i’m sorry it’s been inconveniencing you, mingi, but it’s been ruining me, too. sometimes i can’t even believe i’m still here.”

the last part of your sentence stirs something in him but he can only focus on your broken state. watching as you grow weaker and weaker because of him.

“you haven’t even been helping me,” you suddenly say, words quiet and soft-spoke but filled with an obvious hurt. “i... i don’t know why you’d even wanna go on a trip with me because we’d just fight, mingi. we’d just fight and i’d cry and you’d leave me. th-that’s what we keep doing.”

tears burn the back of his eyes, a knot growing in his stomach so big it feels like he’s about to puke.

“because i don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he say, his voice less harsh but still holding a certain degree of bite. “i tried so hard with you and nothing seems to work. i loved you, i still love you, and i was there for you and i tried so hard with you but... i don’t know how to help you.”

“you think yelling is the way? or leaving me is the way?” you laugh out manically, tears rolling down your face that you desperately try to reach out and wipe. “you’re sick of me but i’m sick of you, too. i’m sick of feeling this way and i’m so fucking sick of thinking you still love me.”

“you don’t think i love you?” he asks, rising from his chair and making his way over to you.

his looming height should make you nervous, the way he’s looking down at you and threatening to trap you against the counter should make you nervous, but it doesn’t.

because coming to terms with this right here is the worst part. the conversation you’ve been avoiding for months and the obvious change in what you two have become.

“i don’t,” you say, finally meeting his gaze and seeing hurt and anger swirl behind them. they used to hold such a sweet softness that would sometimes make you feel better, even if just for a little bit.

“because even if you do, you’re still sick of me, right?”

one year ago:

“what if you get sick of me?”

the newest compromise had been his family coming here to meet you.

you and mingi had booked refundable tickets for a week in his hometown, a part of you wanting to desperately prove you could do something for him. something that would make him happy and maybe prove you love him a little more than you can convey.

but the second you got on the highway to the airport, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to.

memories played through your mind of you in the backseat of your parents car, laughing and talking with them as you promised to be careful and take a lot of pictures with them.

hearing them tell you they loved you and were so happy you were able to go after all.

and then you’d looked to the other side and see in your mind a car hitting the other. spinning out and smacking into the divider as an eruption of fire, car parts and the chaotic screeching of breaks echoed through the air.

mingi had to pull over to calm you down, bring you back to the real world in the form of hugging you close to his body and his hand running through your hair.

“i’m- i’m sorry, mingi, i’m sorry, i-”

“sh, you don’t have to apologize, baby, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he hums against your head, pulling you over the console to rock you gently in his lap.

he was warm and broad and soft spoken and everything about him made you feel safe. you couldn’t grasp at the time how or why he was so understanding and sweet but you didn’t even wanna question it.

because he was the one thing in your life that made you feel okay. that you had him and he had you and there was nothing that could be that bad if you had each other still.

he didn’t let go of your hand once as pulled onto the highway, got off the exit and made his way back home.

he guided you back into the apartment and told you to go lay down and that he’d be there in a second.

he cancelled the flight and called his mom, telling her you guys got rained out and that, if it was okay, he’d pay for them to fly out here next week.

the bed dips a few moments later, broad strong arms wrapping around your waist before you’re pulled into his chest.

it was after a few silent minutes stretched between you two, the calming rise and fall of his chest against your back, your small voice pierced the air.

“i’m sorry, mingi.”

he could tell you were gonna cry before you even started, turning you in his arms as he pulled you closer to him.

“baby, i already told you you don’t have to-”

“but i do,” you cut him off, lower lip trembling and stomach knotting guiltily.

“i... i don’t think this is normal, mingi. i should be able to move on with my life and travel somewhere. i wanted to go so badly and meet your mom but i-” your voice breaks as tears fill your eyes and you try to catch the breath threatening to suffocate you.

“i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever,” you say quietly, looking up and meeting his soft, sweet gaze. “i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever and you’re gonna become tired of it.”

“baby... that’s never gonna happen,” he assures you, voice gentle but firm as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“and you’re not gonna be like this forever. we can get you help. and i can help you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours with such a raw honesty and love. “i... don’t really know how but i’ll do whatever it takes.”

“what if it’s not enough?” you ask, because at the time it’s like you knew just how bad this was gonna get. that even with as low as you felt then, it wasn’t even rock bottom.

“what if you get sick of me?”

“i won’t,” he reassures, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your head before settling you onto his chest carefully. “that’ll never happen because i love you, y/n. and i always will.”

present day:

in a turn of events, you were the one who left after that.

came right to the place you first met, except now the lake isn’t frozen over and the late-afternoon sun had just set.

his words were too harsh and reminded you too much of his broken promises.

you felt too weak and pathetic and completely hopeless, the tense silence so horribly loud between you two you left without a word; and he hadn’t said anything either.

and now, as you sit at the spot you’ve always come to and found solace in, you can feel why he was always so hurt when you didn’t ask him to stay. because even though you were fighting and even though you both hurt each other, you wanted him to ask you to stay.

to please not go because that would’ve been the last possible way for you both to see there was something still there - even though it’s plain to see there isn’t.

too many fights and too many words have been said. too many lapses of silence and too many unspoken thoughts that now when uttered are just hurting both of you.

you’re both too hurt and you both have too many things to sort through that you can’t do together.

one second you were staring down at the lake, your own broken reflection staring back as your feet hung in the water, and the next you couldn’t see. tears flooded your vision and sobs wracked through your body, loud, ugly, horrific sobs that you’ve been holding back for far too long.

you cry because you know it’s over with him, you know it’s been over for a while, but now it all feels real.

you cry because you know you need some help to get past all of the guilt you feel, how if you don’t get help, you’re never gonna leave this town and see what else is out there.

you cry because you don’t even know where to start and know, even though it hurts, you have to do it alone.

you’re so lost in your thoughts and the way your cries echo through the yard that you don’t hear footsteps approach you.

you don’t even know anyone’s behind you until someone bends down and pulls you into their broad, warm chest. a chest you know far too well and a body that hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever.

he knew you’d be here and he couldn’t stop his legs from jumping in the car and coming to see you after you left. half because he knew this had to happen and half because he was far too scared for you to be out here like this.

he knew what conversation was gonna follow but he knew had to hold you one last time. he missed holding you and he missed wiping your tears away.

“i don’t know what happened to us, mingi,” you whimper into his chest, the tears that have been building behind his eyes finally coming to the surface.

he doesn’t know what happened either. he doesn’t know when or where you guys went wrong or when you stopped talking to each other. he doesn’t know when he stopped loving you in such a way that was all consuming, where he knew he’d do anything and everything for you.

“i don’t... i don’t think this is working. i don’t know what to do but i know i can’t do this anymore.”

“i don’t know what happened either, baby,” he mumbles against your head, his words wobbly and wet as he tightens his hold on you. it feels as if every part of is heart is breaking, for the way he’s neglected you and the way your crying against him.

“i’m sorry i can’t help you. i wanted to so fucking badly but now... i just, i can’t, baby.”

you cry harder as you shake your head against him, feeling him plop down and pull you into his arms tighter.

it feels every bit as heartbreaking and upsetting as you both knew it’d be. it’s probably why you guys put it off for so long. because even though you feel the love you used to feel, you both know nothing will change.

he’ll resent you and you’ll resent him right back.

he’ll say he stayed for you and tried to help you and you’ll say you never asked him to do any of it.

you both sit there and cry and hold each other until the sky falls dark and air turns crisp, the moon reflecting off the lake in a way that hasn’t changed in two years.

but everything’s changed between you both and it’s too heartbreakingly obvious.

“i’ll miss you,” you mumbled to him.

because you know he’s gonna go on and do all the great things he’s wanted to. move out of this town and pursue whatever dreams he put off for you, the girl he once loved more than anything.

“i love you,” he confesses quietly against your head. “i really really did love you.”

because he knows he still does, he knows he always will, but it’s not something either of you can bear to hear right now.

you both have said what the other needed to hear and when you guys part tonight, maybe you’ll finally start feeling better. fix yourselves and the damage you’ve caused each other and maybe reunite when the universe deems it right.

two and a half years later:

it had always been your dream to see the northern lights.

something about them had always fascinated you, how they almost didn’t see real or were just a figment of fake editing that would only ever be seen in photos.

but you had an overwhelming need to see them before your very eyes. see the sight before you and marvel in just how truly fascinating and beautiful it was.

so that’s exactly what you did.

you wrote down a list of all the places you wanted to see: the egyptian pyramids, the great wall of china, the taj mahal, the eiffel tower, all of the sights that you knew in order to see, you’d have to leave the perfect little town you loved so much.

it took a lot of attempts, a lot of tears and anxiety and frantic calls to your therapist, but finally, you were able to do it.

it was the third to last place on your 6-month journey around the world, jet lag getting to you immensely but an extremely fulfilling pride and excitement within you.

you were able to do it. see the sights and meet hundreds of different people and experience all the things you convinced yourself you didn’t need or want.

and you didn’t have a single regret until this very moment.

because the rookie mistake you made within this amazing, journey of self-discovery around the world was not investing in a parka.

the biting temperatures of alaska were surely getting to you right now, your glove covered hands over your ears as you trekked through the snow with other groups of (properly dressed) tourists during the aurora season.

you found yourself in a snowy, freezing field, tall evergreen trees above your heads as you waited patiently for the sky to change perfectly, a buzzing excitement and low chatter from the people around you.

footsteps crunching on snow filled your ears from every direction, your eyes on the trees and large sky above you. a harsh gust of wind whipped past you and you let out a tiny squeal, your hands shooting up to your red, wind-burnt face.

you could hear a quiet, low chuckle beside you, something about the strangely familiar sound sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. you didn’t understand them at that moment, ignoring your bodies odd reaction and keeping your eyes focused on the sky.

it took hearing his voice, the same one you’d fallen in love with in your own backyard, for your eyes widen and quickly look over the snowy vast of land surrounding you.

mingi stepped in front of you, eyes full of amusement and pride and even disbelief, looking over your face with the same type of a fascination he had when he first met you.

“aren’t you cold?”

inspired by: line without a hook by ricky montgomery, ty tiktok

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii

#so aha.... not the dystopian au #but i was inspired by a song in the car and this happened <3 #mingi #mingi angst #mingi fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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theficplug · 4 years

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ll 𝒾 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 ll

Yahya x Black Reader

{a little malcolm & marie loosely, not so loosely inspired fic and after seeing a few things from Yahya. I’ve decided to write this.}

Warnings: none, i think ? possible tw: the brief mention of abandonment issues

Yahya was already padding through your shared cozy modern loft.

His “good shoes'' as he calls them, long forgotten by the welcome mat.

He headed straight to the kitchen to reheat leftovers from the Valentine's Day dinner you prepared for him last night.

“Hors d'oeuvres weren't cutting it baby. And it was dry as hell.” he says jokingly as he turns on the Alexa.

All Night by Beyonce plays softly in the background.

“What’s with you? You’ve barely said two words since we’ve gotten back from the event. You mad?” he asks slinging the blazer over the counter and kicking back against it.

"I'm not angry Yahya. I want to take this tight ass dress off, have a warm shower , and go to bed. Can I do that in peace? " You say to him as you kick off the heels and make your way to the bedroom.

He was right on your trails as he followed you in and crossed his arms.

“You looked beautiful tonight. Look at you.” he compliments

The day of love was supposed to be just that but it felt like it was veering towards the opposite end of the spectrum. You take off your ears placing them in the jewelry holder carefully before sighing and kicking off your heels next.

Yahya reassured you that he’d be home for Valentines Day but instead chose to take the last minute wrap dinner with his castmates and talk with the producers of his current project to secure the role on the next.

You were more than happy for your man after busting his ass and finally securing a major role in the reboot of Candy Man and the newest male lead in his upcoming show. You truly were but it seemed as though for a while now he held no space for you in his chaotic world.

You could feel Yahya eyeing you down as you silently, apart from the occasional huffing and puffy or mumbling little words to yourself.

Yahya stands in the doorway of your bedroom watching you angrily snatch the clothes from the floor and set them aside before unzipping your dress.

He frowns for a second before loosening his tie and contemplating walking over to you and helping you. After unzipping your cherry coloured silk gown the rest of the way his hands caresses slowly from your hips to your back, up your arms and finally settle on your shoulders. Yahya moves your hair curls to the side for a second placing soft kisses on to your neck.

His hands already pulling at the end of your dress to your waist letting his hands wander

He gazes at you for a moment noticing that the stoic expression is still etched across your face.

"So you just gon’ be silent with me the whole night? No congratulatory kisses for your man."

“For.” kiss. “Your.” kiss. “Man.” kiss.

He whispers again against your neck and you move his hands off of you gently.

"What’s up with you?" He asks again this time his voice laced with confusion as he tries to figure out why you've been acting this way since you left the event and the restaurant.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. I'm just tired. I ended up working all day yesterday since you didn’t come home and now I just want to relax and sleep." You reply before stripping down to just your stockings and grabbing your shower gels and caddy.

"How am I supposed to fix whatever is going on here if you're going to act like this? What's wrong with you?" He asks again this time a little more concerned with the way you brushed him off.

"What's wrong with me? Hmmm, Let's see, I've had to take care of our home and its repairs by myself for the past 8 months. I feel like I’m in a relationship by myself most days. And my fiance drives me to yet another fucking cast dinner . Where he fails to put his castmate in her place when she was clearly flirting with him right in front of his fiancee." You unload and Yahya whips his head around at you to process all of your words.

He cocks his head to the side before scoffing at your accusations.

"So, instead of telling me how you felt you’d rather fucking explode on me on tonight of all nights. When I’ve just landed a record breaking 6 season extension and approval from Netflix. Who basically has the film industry by it’s balls right now. I’m not a mind reader. Baby, I didn’t know that she was going to say all of that. I was trying to be professional and let her make a fool of herself all on her own." He replies and you walk in the bathroom to put all of your things on the counter.

“Oh, I picked you because I knew we would drive the fans absolutely freaking wild. You know we’re just hot and have that chemistry on and off camera to make it you know like, work. Love scenes are easy to portray when you’ve got a man like Yah as your scene partner.” you mock her nasally and obnoxious tone as you pucker your lips mimicking her stiff lip fillers.

"You never do Yahya. Nothing’s ever your fault! The waitress that asked if you could bench press her. The random woman holding onto your arm at the “celebratory dinner” in Denmark. I saw the pictures. You can have your head tossed back laughing hysterically with her but you can't even pick up the phone and see how your fiancee is holding up in the first winter without you here.``

"That’s not fair. It was dinner. The director’s daughter. A dinner that he attended too. What do you want me to say? "No I'll sit this one out because my girl doesn't want me to talk to other people because she still hasn't learned to deal with her insecurities and projects them onto everything I do"." he retorts and you stare him in the eye before tears well in yours.

The silence falls over both of you as you stare him down. He was really standing here bringing out things you've told him during past pillow talks.

You stare at each other in the mirror and he immediately wraps his arms around you to apologize and kiss all over your shoulder and face.

"No, You tell them that I can count on one hand how many months out of the year we spent together last year. You tell them that my girl had to spend Christmas watching everyone else get loved on and share the holiday cheer while I got to watch you skii over facetime. You tell them my girl made a beautiful steak dinner last night and got me tickets to watch my favourite fucking team for VaIentine’s Day, but I’d rather spend it talk about an old white guy’s scripts. I thought about breaking up with you around Thanksgiving before you came home. I blamed it on the distance, you know. I just felt that way because I only ever got to see you over facetime for what seemed like an hour or 2 a day. I said that when you came home everything would be okay again. I think that I may have been wrong. There’s two people in this relationship. But I also feel as though I may be holding onto something that's just not there." you tell him before grabbing your things out of his hands and stepping into the shower.

Yahya swallowed hard and looked down at you for a moment, his jaw going slack for a second but his pride not letting him admit that he may have been in the wrong.

"You didn’t tell me none of this. When I call you and I ask you how are you feeling? You always say it’s fine , it’s fine, everything’s fine. I mean we knew the kind of lives we lived when we got on this ride together. You traveled. I traveled. We traveled together. That’s how it was until you decided that acting wasn’t for you. I’m not abandoning you bae. That’s not what’s happening here." Yahya explains as he starts his skincare routine.

You let the warm water wash over you and the coils of your hair as you peel off the lashes and let out a long sigh.

Yahyah knew that one of your things was that you didn’t want to feel like a burden or to feel like you’ve been forgotten but this rough spat felt different.

"I wanted you. I wanted you to hold me and tell me you loved me and that I looked pretty for once."

"You always look pretty though. You know that."

“Happy Anniversary, Yahya.” you say quietly and you can hear him let out a drawn out “damn it” as he washes the cleanser off his face and looks up at you through the fogged glass.

He drops his head slighly as he stands at the door before openingn it. .

“I’m going to fix all of this. I love you and I want you to know that I’m sorry. You are the last person in my life that I wanna lose or hurt. I need you to know that I’m still the one you can turn to. You’re still the one I wanna experience this life with. Your greatest joys and highs. Your sad days when you just need to be held. The days where we lay together in bed and I can hear your heartbeat. Probably the cheesiest shit you've ever heard but it's my favourite sound I mean you calling out my name is a close second but that one is my favourite.” he reassures. He relaxes against your touch when you turn to face him and wrap your arms around him.

Yahya embraces you, unphased by the fact that his shirt and pants are getting soaked.

“Now that I’m thinking about it. I’ve fallen in love with you over and over again. There’s so many layers to you. It’s everyday I’m falling in love with something new about you. Even on days like this. First time I fell in love with you. We were sitting at this coffee shop tapping your pencil against a notepad. You had Diary by Alicia Keys stuck in your head and you kept singing parts of the song to me throughout the day. You had this pretty floral pattern type of baby blue dress that fell off your shoulders. You wore your grandmother’s ring cause you said it always calms your nerves to have her there with you when you auditioned. Nobody had even heard of me before. I was going for some feature film role. At the time you were going for a recurring role on the Young & The Restless or some show like that. I remember you were reading the script and you let out a laugh. It was your laugh. The loud remedy of it curing the butterflies in my stomach. The little patch of the 4c bangs in the front, the rest of your hair slicked back into a puff. I loved the way that it framed your lil round face. The gold hoops against your deep beautiful brown skin. I liked the way you did your makeup. With the lil highlight at the tip of your nose. It made you look like a lil fairy...I proposed to you that day. After 6 months of knowing you. Baby it was you, everything about you. You were laughing at having dump iced coffee all over your scene partner’s head but I was smiling because I knew. I was like so this is what made all them oldheads sing like that in the blues songs my daddy used to play. I wanted to be in it for the long haul. And I still do. I know I got a lot of making up to do. But I want you to know that I see you. I see you and I’m going to do what I need to do to make everything more than just alright. I love you.”

You let his words soak in as he cupped your face and you nodded along to his words. After helping him strip off his drenched clothes he steps into the shower with you where you embraced him in your arms gain.

“You’ve always told me that you knew early on but you never told me. I love you too, you know. It’s just you know how I am more than anybody. I know that your dreams are finally coming true and you deserve that. I don’t want to stand in the way of that. But I still find a way to balance my work and our relationship. I just want you to meet me in the middle.” you say against his lips before capturing his plump lips in a kiss.

“I’m gonna fix it..” He reassures you in between kisses

“We’ve still got 3 hours left of our anniversary. Our record is 5. We can still try to break that” you whisper in his ear-

( i don’t know what this is lol. sorry I didn’t get any valentines posts up. i had a whole migraine and have had more low days than up in the past weeks but we keep going. i hoped you like this little, i dont know what to call it. i dont really know how to write fluff lol so here’s the angst.)

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya x black reader #fanfic for black girls

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mrsgiovanna · 3 years

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Buon Compleanno (Don Giorno x Fem! Reader)

It's as the name says... This fic is close to my heart and I really enjoyed writing it for our Golden king's birthday. Mostly fluff, it does contain mentions of alcohol consumption though. I hope you all enjoy. ❤️🎊🎉😘🐞💭

P. S. Let the fluff ensue 💐

Word count: 2.5k

“So Mista... Fugo, are things ready on your end? I’ve got confirmation from North Island that everything is ready for us on their end. We have to stagger our arrivals so that Giorno doesn’t actually see you guys there until the party. All our villas are ready for our arrival and his presents are being safe guarded there until we arrive,” you beamed as you secretly went over the final checklist for Giorno’s birthday get away with the team and Trish.

Your friends had ever so thoughtfully come over to see you and Giorno off… well more so to iron out the last details of your master plan, but your boyfriend didn’t need to know that. Attempting to keep your plans for his birthday hidden from him was a near impossible feat. Trying to get him to take some time off and just live for himself was an even bigger task, but being who you are, you managed to plan everything down to the finest detail.

Trying to get the entire island to yourselves and plan the party of a century for your closest allies was a mammoth task, but it was what you felt Giorno deserved. In the years that he’s spent running Passione, he had always placed his own needs secondary to the needs of the organization, which is why you resolved to give him the best experience imaginable for his 21st birthday.

“Hi Giorno! We were just talking about you,” piped up Trish in a voice loud enough to alert everyone to the young don’s looming presence. Eyes widening for a split second, you manage to compose yourself without him catching on and flashed him a pleasant smile. You were taken aback by how handsome he looked dressed down in an azure linen Armani suit, hair braided loosely and cascading down his shoulder. He took his place at your side, casually circling his arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Morning everyone, what’s this about me?”

“Oh, we’re just discussing what we’re going to be doing when you’re away… you know, cats and mice and the like,” joked Fugo, earning him a worried look from Giorno.

“Gosh, relax my love… come on, we have to go, it’s a pretty long flight,”

“Alright, alright, let’s go bella. Well, I’ll see you all in a few days’ time,” leaving to the collective goodbye wishes of your friends you set off to catch the private jet which would take you to the little piece of heaven in the Seychelles.

Upon landing at the airport, you were just one short helicopter flight away from your destination. Giorno’s demeanor was akin to that of a child on Christmas eve, taking in his beautiful surroundings on the helicopter. Stepping onto the helipad, you were greeted by the wonderful fresh scents of the salty sea air, clear blue seas and white sandy beaches for as far as the eye could see. After the welcome, you were lead to the main villa, given your golf cart and allowed yourselves to get settled in for the rest of the night, choosing to spend a quiet night lounging on the balcony overlooking the ocean.

Giorno couldn’t help but stare at your beautiful form. The way the moonlight bounced off the ocean behind you and illuminated your skin mesmerized him. He had known you ever since he had taken over Passione. You served as a valuable ally when it came to weeding out the members who were still unwilling to adopt his ideals. As the years marched on, he started seeking out your company more and more, until it became apparent that he was at his happiest when he was around you… and once the realization had dawned on him, he wasted no time in making you his. You fell hard, and fast, and it was so easy fall into step with each other’s lives, as if you had been created just for each other.

“Bella, this is incredible, I know I put up a bit of a fight but I’m so glad you did this…” he uttered with a dreamy look on his face.

“I’m glad you think so my love, you’re going to love the day I have planned for us tomorrow… Ah! Actually, later on today," you say, glancing at your watch, "it’s just past midnight! Happy birthday my love! I hope you know how much I love you, and I’m incredibly proud of you and all you have managed to accomplish at such a young age… you’re… you’re pretty amazing you know,” the emotions swirled around in Giorno’s eyes while listening to your heartfelt speech.

“(y/n) … I… you’re… I just love you so much tesoro, you’re everything I could ever want,”

“I love you too Gio… come on, it’s late, let’s get some rest,” you say while leading him to bed.

You rose early, just as the sun made its glorious appearance over the ocean. As early as you had woken up though, Giorno was already awake, nursing a cup of coffee as he stared pensively at the brilliant blue water.

“Good morning handsome, penny for your thoughts?” you greeted your lover, wrapping your arms lovingly around his shoulders and nuzzling into his soft hair.

“Good morning principessa… I’m just thinking about how much I love you…”

“Oh? Is that so, Mr. Giovanna? Well prepare to love me even more, go get ready, we have lots to do today,” you say, a lovely light, lilt coloring your voice.

“Any hints?”

“Wear something comfortable, something that we can walk around in,”

With that, your day had started with a guided hike through the island. Between Giorno’s life-imbuing ability and your affinity for adventure, you were both mesmerized by the flora and fauna you encountered on the hike. Once that was over you looked forward to coming back to a special couple’s massage which eased your sore muscles and relaxed you both into a dreamlike state. Finally, after your last treatments, you could get ready for your “dinner” at the piazza. Feeling a sense of pride as you put on the last of your accessories, you smiled at your reflection in the mirror while inspecting your stunning outfit, and grew even happier when you saw Giorno walking out in a casual charcoal grey Dior suit which matched your dress, but not his expression unfortunately.

“What’s the matter my love? You look great by the way…”

“Thank you tesoro… you’re quite the vision yourself,” standing behind you, sharing the mirror, he raked his fingers through his uncooperative hair, sighing in annoyance.

“Gio, stop- here, sit down, I’ll help you,” you say as you gently brush out the tangles and scrunch the wave back into his lovely golden hair. You carefully braid the length of his mane but leave his signature triad of ringlets out, admiring how beautifully the shorter sections of his hair framed his face.

“There…” you leaned back to admire your efforts, acknowledging the fact that you had a particularly exquisite model as well.

“Are you sure this is fine my love?” there was a hint of doubt in Giorno’s voice, but you made sure to banish any such thoughts.

“Of course, I love your hair like this,”

“Well, that’s good enough for me. Shall we leave my princess?”

“Yes… but can I drive the golf cart?” you ask, extending your arm to him, gesturing for the keys.

Speeding past the rest of the villas, you just wanted to make sure that everyone was already at the piazza ready to surprise the young don.

“Are you sure we’re at the right place my love? Or should we be at a different entrance, this looks like it’s closed,”

“Yes caro, come on, I’m sure the staff are inside… I’ve picked up on your habit of wanting to dine in solitude,” you explain as you walk towards the entrance hand in hand. Stepping into the restaurant, the lights dipped and instantly got brighter revealing your closest friends jumping out of their hiding spots with a collective, rambunctious yell of “surprise”, startling your unsuspecting boyfriend.

“Happy birthday my love,” you softly say once again, as the lively music started to play in the background.

“You… did all of this? For me?”

“Of course bello mio, well, I did have help though” you gestured behind Giorno, pointing out Mista, Trish and Fugo walking towards you both.

“Oi, happy birthday Giogio, haha, you look like you need a drink, I’ll be right back,” said Fugo as he went to order the first round of drinks for your little group. Between flitting amongst your guests, dancing with your handsome beau, and stealing moments away to be alone him, you almost forgot to give him his gifts, which were safely stored in the wine cellar of the establishment.

“Well, what do you think my love?” Giorno’s eyes widened when he saw the glass-encased, white Fender Stratocaster signed by just about every rock star, most importantly, his favorite guitarist, Jeff Beck.

“I’ve been looking for this for the longest time… how did you find it tesoro?”

“I also know some people… that’s not all, look next to it…” you motioned towards 5 Morocco solander boxes that housed a rare first edition of the complete 10 volumes of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables.

“I thought that might look quite beautiful in your study… adding something especially meaningful to your collection,”

“I’m speechless (y/n) … you’ve gone to such great lengths…” you hush him with a passionate kiss preventing him from gushing about your efforts as you were determined to make this night about him.

“I’m sure we’ve been gone for too long, lets rejoin our guests my love,” you started to walk towards the staircase exiting the wine cellar, but you were pulled back against Giorno’s broad chest, grasping your face in his hand, he kissed you with so much fervor this time, leaving you flustered and battling to calm your racing heart. Noticing the effect, he managed to have on you, he gently coaxed you back upstairs with a wicked smirk.

“Hey, you’re back, we’ve been looking all over for you two. We have one more person who wants to say hello,” with a soft smile, Trish reaches behind her to pull out coco jumbo, which meant only one thing…

“Signore Polnareff! Even you…”

“You know I’ve always had a soft spot for pretty girls Giorno… Joyeux anniversaire! You’re a brave young man with a good head on your shoulders and integrity in your heart, always hold on to that,”

“Thank you signore Polnareff, it means a lot coming from you, considering…” cutting him off before Giorno could complete his sentence, Polnareff attempted to lighten the mood.

“Non non non, no sad thoughts tonight, get this man a drink someone, you’re all slacking here,” he said looking at you as you mouthed a small thank you in his direction.

“(y/n), you’ve really outdone yourself. Giogio, you’re a lucky man,” said Mista as he brought a special bottle of champagne for you all to raise a toast with. “Alright, while we’re all here in the same place, I just want to say that you’re all important to me…”

“Mista’s drunk guys, prepare yourselves,” Trish says with an eye roll resulting in hushed giggles as the gunslinger tried to (unsuccessfully) arrange his sentimental thoughts.

Unable to stand it any longer, Trish takes over and pays homage to Giorno, as well as the special people who had given everything in order for them to live, enabling them to carry on their will.

As the party raged on, you took a small break in a dim corner of the piazza, and took a moment to marvel at the fruits of your labor. Everybody was having the best time, including Giorno. After being called away by one of his associates, it filled your heart with fluttery sensations watching the man you loved finally able to act his age for once.

“May I sit with you, carina?” startled out of your musings, you find an old friend standing over you.

“Lorenzo, of course, please, have a seat,” you offer emphatically.

“So, how is one half of Passione’s power couple doing?” his question earning a loud giggle from you. You continued to make conversation with Lorenzo, until Trish came to inform you that one of the service providers needed to confirm a few details with you, so you politely excused yourself and followed Trish. You were confused as she lead you to a secluded part of the beach, where you find Giorno standing alone, staring broodingly at the ocean for the second time that day. You realized that she just made an excuse draw you away to check on Giorno, being slightly concerned yourself after seeing the expression on his face.

“Gio? My love, what’s the matter? Did you just need some fresh air?” he turned to faced you with the softest smile.

“You know bella, I’ve loved you so deeply for years now… you always know what I need… even before I do. I never really feel complete anymore unless you’re with me… which is strange because I’ve always been content on my own. And then it hit me, you will always hold a part of me, and I’ll always seek you out because of it… You’ve given me probably the best experience of my life tonight, but, there’s just one more thing I would like from you to make the day perfect…” you felt light-headed when you saw Giorno moving to kneel down on one knee, pulling out a little trinket box, opening it to reveal the most beautiful ring.

“(y/n), would you give me the greatest gift and agree to spend the rest of your life with me as my wife?”

Emotions tugged at your pretty features, as you whispered a breathy affirmation, while nodding excitedly. Exhaling sharply with a stunning smile, Giorno got back to his feet and placed the elegant ring on your finger, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss thereafter. You threw your arms around his neck, and held him tightly, before the realization dawned on you.

“Wait! How long have you been planning this, Gio? Your question was met with his soft, exasperated laugh.

“Oh! For the longest time amore, I’ll admit though, your plans had forced me to adapt my own, but I had some help in achieving all of this… Trish is a lifesaver,” explained your new fiancé with a hint of pride in his voice.

“I love you Gio, but you managed to hijack your own celebration… I don’t know what to do with you!” the mock exasperation dripping from your voice drew a small laugh from Giorno.

“That’s your problem now tesoro, you already agreed to marry me, no take backs,” with that, you both decide to return to the festivities. Intertwining your fingers with his as you slowly walked back, you both stole loving glances at each other, communicating your intense affections for each other through your eyes alone… perhaps it was as he said, you mused… that a part of your soul resided with him also, and so you always sought him out to feel complete too, just as he did with you.

#giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #giorno x y/n #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #giorno #giorno giovanna #don giorno #don giovanna #vento aureo #jjba #golden wind #jojo's bizarre adventure #giogio #jojo no kimyou na bouken #Happy birthday Giorno #jjba fanfic #jjba fluff #my writing

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puckngrind · 3 years

Text

Leave Her Wild: Chapter 2 - N. MacKinnon

Summary: MacKenzie and her friends head to opening night for the Colorado Avalanche.

Warnings: swearing, alcohol

Word count: 2, 675

Series masterlist / Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Flames.

"You are really gonna wear that?" Mosi looks her friend up and down.

"Yeah, why?" MacKenzie tugs at her jersey. Of course she was going to wear it. Opening night, only hockey jersey she owned. Was a Christmas gift from her parents last year. She did a little twirl to show it off to the group of unamused friends.

"Because..." Drew rolls his hands and she rolls her eyes.

"Laissez les bons temps rouler!" Remy waves his hands in the air.

"That means, Let..." MacKenzie starts.

"Let the good times roll! We know.” Drew and Mosi say in unison.

"Alright, Mac is going to be wearing that. Remy has clearly pre-gamed. Mosi should’ve. We have our tickets and I'm driving so let's go." Drew starts herding the friend group out of MacKenzie's condo.

Opening night at Pepsi Center was always an event. MacKenzie and Drew got tickets from their volunteer efforts so the group headed out for their first time ever. They had gone to a Rockies game after Remy moved to Denver but normally the friend group didn't really do sporting events as outings.

“Is someone gonna explain these rules?” Remy plopped down from his first beer run with Drew and handed MacKenzie one. Eyeing her for the answer.

“Yeah. Kinda like soccer. You know?” She started. Knowing she was the only one who knew anything about hockey. “You can yell, cheer, boo. Doesn't really matter because no one really pays attention to the crazy you say.” The group all nod and she knows they will just clap when those around them do.

“So pizza-Jeep boy is wearing what color?” Mosi whisper yells while leaning into MacKenzie’s side during warmups.

“He’s in the blue and maroon jersey. The white is the Flames.” MacKenzie doesn’t take her eyes off the ice looking for Nathan to point him out but feels Mosi’s eyes on her. “Yes, Mo?”

“But… um... never mind.” Mosi stutters strangely.

"There he is." Kenzie ignores and points to the screen where they have a close up of Nathan showing his stats from the previous season.

The game starts which quieted the group’s chatter while everyone but Kenzie tried following the puck and going from watching the ice to the screen and back.

“Let’s go boys!” MacKenzie stands and yells after a big play with everyone in her section turning to look at her.

“Mac!” Drew pulls her down to her seat. “Check your surroundings.”

“You know I don’t care, right?” MacKenzie starts clapping again with a little cheer.

“As always, you do you.” Drew slow claps along as the game progresses.

Even though MacKenzie warned her friends that there might be only a goal or two, the game was high scoring which the friends all enjoyed. Remy cheered when anyone scored regardless of team. Colorado winning made the home crowd pumped and buzzing about being the year.

"We realize the season has over 80 games, right?" Kenzie comments to no one in particular as they head down the stairs.

“Food! Real food and drinks that don’t cost a million bucks.” Mosi begs on the way out.

“Allons! Let’s go!” Remy points to the closest restaurant he can see. "That one! Onward." Remy leads the group over.

Drinks, food, laughter fill the table as they banter back and forth.

“Isn’t that her, Mac?” MacKenzie hears someone nearby. She turns to see Nathan, Cale and a few more guys at a table about ten feet away. Nathan nods. She raises her hand then quickly feels the blood rushing to her face.

“Kenzie Lou, why are you the same color as your jersey?” Remy looks her up and down.

“Oh.” Drew mumbles with his mouth full seeing the table MacKenzie just waved towards.

“Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun!” Mosi clapped and is greeted with a kick under the table. “Ouch. Well it is.”

MacKenzie huffs and stands to her feet. Inhales and walks right over to the table of what she assumed was full of professional hockey players.

“Nice game Nathan.” She stops right at the end of his table and knows her face is still bright red.

“Looks like you were rooting for the other team there. Sorry 'bout that.” One of the boys down the table barks out.

“Hi MacKenzie. Thanks. Were you there? At the game, I mean.” Nathan turns his body towards her.

“Yes. Got tickets because of the foundation thing so we all went.” She gestures towards her eager looking friends. They wave and Nathan waves back with a flick of his wrist.

“Oh cool. So you are a… a Calgary fan?” Nathan gulps hard taking in the home Flames jersey.

“Well, a Tkachuk fan, actually. Yeah.” MacKenzie looks over at the 19 on her shoulder. “He was phenomenal last… ya'll. Well. Yeah.” MacKenzie looks around the amused players and shuts up.

“Sorry, let me introduce you. Guys, this is the other Mac. MacKenzie. Uh. Shit. I never caught your last name.” Nathan looks at her searching for a name.

“Blackwood.” MacKenzie answers and the guy across from Nate spits out his drink. “Um.” She just looks at him.

Nate wipes his face and stares down his teammate. “Are you fucking serious, EJ?”

“Sorry man.” EJ hands him another napkin. “No teeth.” He flashes his massive gap which makes MacKenzie giggle softly and Nathan groan.

“Let me get this straight. You live in Cale and Tyson’s building, volunteer with youth, only seem to follow Tkachuk 'cause you don't seem to know Avs hockey.” He wipes his mouth to continue. MacKenzie recognizes him as the captain from the game. “Have the same name as a goalie in the league, and are giving my boy, Nate here a run for his money.” Gabe winks with a sinister smile.

“Wait what?” MacKenzie puts her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

“What he means is…” Nate starts and MacKenzie places a finger up to stop him.

“No the goalie thing. I’m choosing to ignore the last part for now.” She says which gets a reaction from the entire table.

“Mackenzie Blackwood is a goalie in New Jersey. You happen to have the same name.” Nate explains.

“Gotcha. I’ll be honest, I catch games when I can but it’s background noise.” MacKenzie still feels her cheeks on fire but doesn’t let it stop her. “I will go to a Flames games if I'm in town when they play ya'll then a Blues game when I’m home with my dad and brother. Most of my hockey following is checking stats or social media.” She takes a deep breath not wanting to look directly at the table that all seem mesmerized by her presence. “Anyway, just wanted to say hi, which I did. So…. Nice game gentleman. Enjoy your post game dinner. Good seeing you again Nate. Cale.” MacKenzie nods and turns on her heals to her friends who haven’t touched their food since she left.

"Kenzie Lou!" Remy softly squeals.

"Don't." MacKenzie grits her teeth.

"What the hell did you talk to an entire table of NHL players about?" Mosi ignores her friend's request.

"I guess I have the same name as a goalie in the league." She annoyingly answers.

Drew starts typing before anyone can respond. "Oh yes. Mackenzie Blackwood. K not capitalized. Canadian. 22. New Jersey rookie who started last year. Wait, how does that happen?" Drew looks at MacKenzie's face . "Later. I'll google it later."

"Could we eat please?" MacKenzie takes a drink of her water and starts to finish her meal. She feels a ping on her phone and turns it over to read the notification.

Nathan's i-phone wants to airdrop you. Accept?

MacKenzie looks over and he nods at the phone. She looks back to accept and sees a screenshot from his notes apologizing for being awkward and asking for her number. She seems confused.

"Kenz?" Mosi questions.

"He wants my number." MacKenzie whispers.

"I'm confused." Remy whispers back.

"Found my phone on airdrop. Smart at least." MacKenzie chuckles.

"So airdrop your digits back to him or I will." Mosi pulls her phone out. "I just need to turn on mine. Who keeps it on? You, of course you do Mac." Mosi looks at Kenzie amused.

"Should I?" MacKenzie pulls at her loose curl wrapping it around her finger and letting it bounce back.

"YES!" Drew almost yells. "What could it hurt? Have a new contact for work at the least." Drew knew exactly what would get MacKenzie to send her number. She looks down to see Remy had written down her number on his napkin. The man always had a pen on him.

"Snap this to 'em." Remy pushed it over so MacKenzie did just that. Almost throwing her phone down as soon as she did. It buzzed not even a minute later.

Maybe Nate: Hi Mackenzie. This is Nate.

MacKenzie: Hi Nate. You can call me Kenzie or Mac

Nate: Okay Kenzie.

She looks up at him and he smiles wide.

Kenzie: enjoy your dinner

Nate: Same. I’ll text you later

She didn’t expect to hear from Nate but the next morning while getting ready for work, MacKenzie hears her text notification.

Nate: good morning. We are off Sunday and a few of us are playing cards at Cale’s place. Would you and your friends want to come over? It’s not far for you.

She stares at the text and starts to pace. Then sends out a group text.

Kenzie: Nate and some of the Avs want us to come over Sunday. Thoughts?

MacKenzie got all three messages immediately in return.

Mosi: obviously yes

Drew: yes is the only answer

Remy: fuck ya!

MacKenzie sent a text to Nate saying yes and asked what they could bring. She wasn't surprised Nate said nothing just themselves.

Sunday rolled around. MacKenzie and her friends walked down to Cale’s condo. She stopped in front of the door and Drew reached over her to knock. Kenzie looked up at him.

"What, just making sure we don't have to stand here forever." The door swung open as Drew finishes his statement.

“Nate, they are here and at least she’s not in a Flames jersey today.” The curly haired guy MacKenzie knew was Tyson from a quick google search of the team over the weekend.

“Decided to leave that at home, Tyson, but I can go get it.” MacKenzie points while giving him a half smile.

“Oh, and she...” Tyson turns to see Nathan behind him. “And she knows my name.”

“Sorry, don’t mind him. He got checked a little too hard at practice this morning.” Nathan pulls Tyson back into the condo. “Come in please.” He gestured and they moved past Nathan into the condo that was the mirror image of MacKenzie’s just slightly larger.

"Make yourselves comfortable." Cale popped his head out from the kitchen. "I'm sure you know where everything is."

"Yeah, just backwards." MacKenzie looks down the hall to the rooms. "Two or three?"

"Three. You?" MacKenzie raises two fingers and realizes her friends have already made their way into the living room.

"Thanks for coming." Nate was still standing behind her and she jumped.

"Thanks for inviting us. My mother tells me I need to make more friends here." MacKenzie sighs.

"Same actually. Tells me the team isn't enough." Nathan looks over her at his friends that were also his coworkers.

"Work, travel, and such keep my circle small." MacKenzie admits. "Oddly, same. You travel for work?" Nathan pushes his hands into his pockets and leans against the wall.

"I do then try to do different things for fun, you know?" She leans against the other wall.

"That's cool. Where are you heading next?"

MacKenzie's mind normally would be racing. Thinking of all the reasons why she shouldn't tell this essential stranger her work schedule but something about him made her feel easy. Maybe how he had more to lose if he burnt her. He didn't know what she did for a living but she could make his life miserable. Maybe it was the simplicity of their conversation or the kindness in his eyes. She felt like she could talk to him.

"Colorado Springs then off to Washington D.C. for the rest of the week and into next week." She answered him.

"Oh, I think we are in D.C. next weekend or maybe the beginning of the week." He stares at his foot kicking the invisible dirt then looked back up at MacKenzie.

"We are. Now are you two just gonna talk in the hall or are you gonna play cards here?" Gabe leans around the corner. "We've already gotten to know Kenzie's friends... let's go!" He gives Nate a look that doesn't go unnoticed. The two walk into the living room.

“Do I need to make introductions?” Nate looks around the room at all the eyes on both of them.

“Well, I googled ya’ll in preparation for today… so… I think I’m good.” She scans the room and sees a few of the girlfriends or wives. “Well, I don’t know the ladies.”

Nate took a moment to identify the few sitting around the room and who they belonged to. Pulling out an empty chair for MacKenzie. “Here, you can play here.” She sat down and pulled her legs up criss crossed under her as Gabe explained the rules. The group played poker until there were four left. JT, Nathan, MacKenzie, and Mosi. Mosi kept saying she accidentally won her table which made the competitive men agitated but made MacKenzie amused. Eventually it was just Nathan and MacKenzie.

“Kenzie, I think you and Nate need a wager of some sort.” Drew drops a bottle of water next to her and she glares up at him.

“I’m game.” Nate pipes up.

“Okay, so what if I win?” Kenzie takes a sip of water.

“Glass seats at the game of your choice.” Gabe declares.

“Okay, and if Nate wins?” Kenzie directs her attention to the captain who now has his hands on Nathan’s shoulders.

“You go out to dinner with him.” Gabe squeezes Nathan’s shoulders and smiles at Kenzie.

“Uh…” Nathan tries to nervously interject.

“That’s fine.” Kenzie tries to control her blush by not directly looking at Nathan then overcomes it to look right into his soft eyes. "Let's play."

Cale starts to deal and everyone can feel the shift of all eyes on the table even though most had scattered once they were knocked out in individual conversations. After three hands, Nathan goes all in.

"I think he's bluffing." MacKenzie whispers and pushes all her chips to the center.

"Kenzie..." He breathes out and Gabe's hand returns to his shoulder.

They place their cards down and Nathan wins with a full house. The cheers start and Nathan just stares at Kenzie who gives him a small smile. She gets up and heads to the kitchen to grab a drink. Finding Cale's rum and starts pouring more than necessary into her diet coke. Takes a drink and feels someone behind her.

"Drew, I'm not that competitive." She doesn't even turn around.

"It's not Drew." Nate murmurs.

MacKenzie turns around slowly. "Sorry. Nice game." She raises her glass to him.

"We don't have to go out for dinner, you know." Nathan shifts his weight.

"Well, a deal is a deal, right?" Kenzie tries not to breath him in as he reaches around her for a water but he smells amazing. He shrugs his shoulders. "If I won, would I have glass seats?" She leans into the counter.

"Yes, you can still have them if you want." Nate fiddles with the bottle, flicking at the paper label.

"So, dinner. When we both get back in town, okay?" Kenzie takes a sip and looks up at Nathan.

"Yes, I'll have my people call your people then." Nathan laughs.

"So Gabe will call Mosi?" MacKenzie bites her cheek with her comeback.

"Oooorrrr... I'll just text you." Nathan replies.

MacKenzie takes a drink again and winces with the burn. "That works too."

#leave her wild fic #N MacKinnon fic #Nate the great 29 #K's new series #2019 hockey season #nathan mackinnon

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lovelytarou · 4 years

Text

fixer upper — sero hanta

pairing: sero hanta x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.5k

a/n: i'm sorry this took so long, but this got longer than intended and i'm proud to announce that i am a sero simp now 🤧 part 6/7 of the event!!! also sorry for the header my braincells run out and it was p last minute, this is also not proofread

having sero as your lover has been amazing. he's a gentleman, he's patient with you, he understood you, and most of all he cares for you more than he liked to admit.

your relationship consisted of showing each other your endless affection through actions, words and in many ways you both possibly could. one of your favorites about sero's way of showing his love to you is by paying attention to the smallest disarray in you and fixing it.

you admit that you loved it when he doted on you, fussed over you like a mother hen would. but it just shows even in the trivial things, you see that he cared.

it made your heart race and beat wildly inside your ribcage that prisoned your restless heart whenever he does so. leaning close to you unknowingly, his breath fanning your face and mingling with yours, feeling his warmth, seeing the crease in his eyebrows as he tried to fix whatever it is he found in your physique.

you'd thank him right after. claiming that 'you didn't notice' and proceed as if nothing happened. as if what he just did didn't make you fall for him harder and as if you didn't do it intentionally.

that's why you took your date night as the perfect opportunity to 'test' your boyfriend and see just how far his limits go with him being caring for you. call it a little social experiment without his knowledge. it's not to take advantage of him, but more like, a challenge perhaps.

before exiting your shared bedroom, you made sure you let one strand of hair untucked and the necklace that he gave you lie on top of your collar bones in the wrong way.

you greeted him with a smile, ready and giddy for tonight. he looked handsome as ever with his usual self. hell, he can wear whatever and you'd still find him gorgeous and breathtaking.

“wow,” he breathed out in shock as if he just saw you for the first time. “you look stunning,”

“thank you, you look...hot.” you complimented him back, not without your face feeling hot which he so definitely noticed.

he stared at you in awe for a minute or two. you counted in your head, it was only a matter of time before he's unable to resist himself. the slight movement of his hand caught your eye and it was already moving to tuck the loose hair behind your ear, beaming at you with a starry gaze.

“let's go?” he offered his arm for you to take and you both walked out of the house.

and it was the perfect opportunity to execute the second step of the plan. it was rather chilly out that night, good thing you purposely left your coat inside the house and now as you're rubbing your arms, sero definitely noticed how you shivered in your bones.

“i told you to always bring a jacket, my love.” he had a worried frown on his face but nevertheless, took off his own jacket and placed it on the top of your shoulders like the gentleman he is. your heart just about celebrated inside your chest at the action even though you had planned it all along.

his jacket and his shirts that you loved to wear even if sometimes they don't fit you, offered their services when he was busy during work and he wasn't there to cuddle you. they became your secondary source of comfort while he's away.

“i know, but i love it when you lend me yours.” you smirked up at him, snuggling close. “plus it smells better, smells like you.” it smells like home, is what you wanted to say.

“you're lucky you're cute,” he teased, kissing your temple as you both walked towards the designated place you're going to have your date.

it was a lovely retro looking restaurant. granted, not many people are around at that time but it's because sero may have slipped in a coin or two just so no one else will bother you. it took your breath away – the scene can only be seen from the movies or posters alike. they even have old songs playing inside the diner and the staff have uniforms that fit the theme.

“hanta, this is amazing!” you giggled like a child on christmas. it truly was amazing, they even had their own jukebox at the corner, and the decors are what you really loved. you made a mental note to take a photo here later.

“it definitely is,” sero mumbled back, eyes focused on you as yours roamed with newfound wonder at the place. he loved that awestruck look on your face, immortalizing it in his mind and happy that he get to be the one to put it on your beautiful visage.

he led you both to a booth and sat down. not a moment longer, a waitress walked up to the two of you to get your orders. after that, you were both left alone as you waited.

you stared back at sero in slight confusion, patiently waiting for him to bite into your next plan which he still hadn't noticed yet.

that was an exaggeration, obviously, but you were thankful for this date night tonight. you were just adding a bit of spice to it per se.

“how did you know about this place?” you attempt at small talk, anything to divert yourself from talking about your motives for tonight. you're not going to lie, you appreciated that he made time for the two of you to have a date despite him being busy all the time with his work that he barely get to squeeze in this date night without going through so many obstacles and yet here you are, analyzing him like a scientist pointing a magnifying glass on an ant.

“oh, i once stopped here for some coffee then i thought i should probably get you here someday because this place is awesome and you definitely need to try their food!” sero enthusiastically explained, eyes sparkling in excitement as he animatedly moved his arms while talking.

on that note, the waitress was back carrying a tray of food you ordered. after thanking her, you both digged in and started eating. sero was right, their food was worth trying.

“this is so good!” you moaned after taking mouthfuls of your burger.

“i feel like i'm in heaven,” sero added, eyes closing as he bite into his.

“we definitely need to go back here again, babe.” their burger was like a luxury and you wanted to savor every last moment of it. your tastebuds and senses were clearly satisfied and you can't wait to go back for more.

“wait,” he put down his burger and grabbed a few napkins. he leaned across the table to gently hold your face in place, the other holding a napkin dabbing softly at the mess you have made on yourself while eating.

at last, he had succumbed to the next step.

fighting back a smile, you thanked him and proceeded to eat. the both of you stayed at the diner for as long as you could, mainly to not disturb the ambience you both created and because you still wanted to stay there longer with your lover.

once you're completely satisfied, you both walked out and basked in the chilly night air. sero's arm hugged you close to his warm body as you strolled peacefully as if you have all the time in the world. well it was peaceful until he turned to you with a focused expression.

“i can't believe you'd go out looking like that,” he clicked his tongue in mock annoyance, shaking his head as he leaned closer and he finally, finally noticed the necklace that's been sitting on the wrong way dangling on your neck.

you can't help the smile stretching your lips at his kind act, letting him do his thing. his soft, gentle fingertips arranging the cold metal of his initial on your neck before sliding up the necklace and onto the side of your neck.

you were no longer smiling as the spaces between you two became smaller and smaller. he stared deep into your eyes, his searching and absolutely in awe of you no matter how frazzled you look, you know he's ready to fix it in a heartbeat. the moonlight shining from behind him along with the twinkling stars truly provided a romantic, dreamy and magical background to the same thing you are feeling right now.

he took your breath away for the nth time that night – his plump (and burger tasting) lips met yours, massaging and moving against each other in a slow dance, caressing it softly and then you felt his wet tongue poke at the corners of your lips and you can't help but mash it with your own, the kiss turning passionate as you slid your arms up – wrapping it around his neck while his own hands went down to your waist.

it felt like eternity after he pulled away, eyes hazy and a faint blush you weren't able to see due to the low lighting of the place but you certainly felt the heat emanating from it. yours were heating up from the passionate kiss you shared, smiling at each other filled with nothing but affection.

“you had ketchup on your lips,” sero chuckled before pulling you close as you walked home.

general taglist: @chibishae34 @bukojuiice @heyheysey

#WAAAAAH IT'S FINALLY POSTED AFTER 253749473 YEARS 🤧🤧#sero hanta date me challenge #okay but i feel like he'd be such a gentleman if he would take you on a date tho #also not me getting kinda turned on while writing that makeout scene 👀👀#tarou writes 🌹#tarou at 200 🎉#💫. sero hanta #sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #sero x reader #sero fluff #sero hanta fluff #sero imagines #sero hanta imagine #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha fluff

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

The Accidental Family - Chapter 4

Henry Cavill x OFC - multi-chapter

< Chap 3 | Chap 4 The First Date night | Chap 5 >

Disclaimer: fluff, mild smuttiness, some strong language

Word count: 2.303

Author’s note: I had so much food the past couple of days 😂So yea, despite the Christmas days having been weird at best, me and my bf had quite a bit of fun - and a whole lot of romantic dinners to kill the time. And ..now we’re talking romantic dinners..

(Link to my Masterlist)

‘Black or purple, what do you think?’ Henry held up the two ties before Kal, the dog tilting his head left and right, as if deciding which one was better. The answer was apparently quite simple according to Henry’s dog; with an excited huff the Akita jumped right up in Henry’s face, licking him all over.

‘Yea, yea, hahahah - that’s the goal. Hahahah. You got me there. So..no tie, then?’ He pushed the dog back down and ruffled him through his thick fur. Kal borked softly and Henry agreed. ‘Very well, a little less formal is probably better, you’re right. We’re having a date at home, anyways.’

Henry breathed in deeply and looked in the direction of the kitchen, his stew simmering on a low fire as he heard Phoebe rummage upstairs, some closet cabinets opening and closing in a mildly hasty manner.

With Henry still in full recovery, it was decided that it would be best to just stick to a cute home dinner for their first dinner date since his memory loss - just to avoid any overzealous fans that would disturb him in a restaurant after the news had been released that he had suffered a serious head injury in a motorcycle accident.

The accident had left many scars. Both physical and mental. It was weird to be here at home now more people lived here, the kids on a prolonged stay with the grandparents while Henry and his wife recuperated from the shake-up his - their - life had had.

In the past days Henry had seen about every specialist and doctor in the book. He went from lengthy couch sessions with a psychologist - the story of the introduction of his kids having been received with mild horror - to the keeping of sleep and medication schedules with his doctor to make sure he got enough recovery and rest in between re-learning the basics of his new life.

The fact that a good many people surviving such head trauma would never be the same, troubled Henry greatly, and so whenever he was allowed to search the internet, which was sparingly, he scoured it like a starved man, the printer in the living room doing over-time to print all the articles and research he had found.

But, all that research would have to wait for the moment. First he’d have to get reacquainted with another part of his life: his wife. And even now as he heard her rummage around the master bedroom, he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter with nerves.

What if she didn’t like the new Henry? What if he couldn’t fall in love with her. Or the sex would be awful, or..

NO! Stop those thoughts.

Looking back in the hallway mirror, he unbuttoned his blouse a little further, a little peek of chest hair popping out over the sleek white fabric.

‘Button up or down?’ Henry looked over at Kal, but the dog thought his human dad was being ridiculous, his body turning around to trod back to the kitchen to slobber up some water.

‘..Very well then.’

It was near surprising how easy dinner went by. Which of course, shouldn’t be too much of a surprise; Henry and Phoebe had several dinners at home before this one, though they never had been quite so romantic. Henry had turned the lights down low and lit some candles, the kitchen radio playing some soft jazzy music playing in the background.

With dinner over and the dirty plates returned to the dishwasher - the dance of moving around the kitchen together now quite well practised, they ended up on the couch, the both of them sipping on some tea, since it was strongly advised not to consume alcohol after Henry’s brain injury.

‘So...’ Henry finished the last sip of his tea and placed it on the side table next to his right elbow, his blue eyes searching for his wife’s slightly dazed expression - she did have a wine or two with his stew.

‘Hmm?’

‘Are you falling asleep on me, wife?’

‘Hahaha you wish.’

‘I do wish.’

‘Oh stop it!’ Her cheeks burned a bright pink, making Henry chuckle - at least he still got some of his charms.

‘I WAS actually wondering about what you mentioned earlier. When I asked you on this date..remember?’

‘Yea…’ She lifted her legs and crossed them, snuggling herself more comfortable in her nook on the couch, lips blowing over her slowly cooling tea.

‘What did you mean by “we never really dated”?’ Henry quoted the last words with his fingers.

‘Oh!’ She quickly looked away, her hands deciding it was best to put her tea away on the side table on her side of the couch. ‘Yea….’ She looked back at Henry. ‘That’s a funny story..’

‘Mmm?’

‘Okay, okay. So, I’m just curious. How do you think we met?’ Her eyebrows rose in expectation, her body fully turning towards him, legs still crossed before her chest. Henry also turned slightly, his arm stretching out over the back of the couch, his fingertips just about able to reach her knees.

‘Hmm. I’ve actually thought about that. Though of course I don’t know. But ehh..’ He squinted his eyes a little, as if playfully wanting to guess. ‘I think I met you on set.’

‘How’s that?’

‘I don’t know. Just a feeling.’

‘Well. It’s not. Try again.’

‘Okay..Ehm, then I totally met you at the grocery store and hit on you so hard that you thought I was some weird creep?’

She laughed. ‘That has happened. Not with you though.’

‘Shame.’

Phoebe laughed and shook her head. ‘Dork.’

‘OH! A comic book store?! A Comic Con? A..’

‘No, and.. no.’

‘Alright, I don’t know. Spill the beans, wife-dear.’

She shot him an exasperated look, before clicking her tongue. ‘We shagged at an after party.’

Henry’s face blanked. ‘I’m sorry, say that again: AT an after party?’

‘Yea..we definitely did it AT the after party.’

‘Was I drunk?’

Phoebe laughed. ‘Shit Henry. Of course we were. We both were. I wouldn’t for the life of me shag anyone on any party, but there we were, fumbling hands and tearing expensive dress shirts in a toilet stall.’

Henry’s eyes widened at her words.

‘Yea..classy, right? And you left me a little present too.’

‘We’re not talking about just a phone number here, huh?’

‘Nope. You knocked me up with our ray of sunshine, Sam. Funny thing was that I lost my phone that night, and with it your number. I then contacted your assistant, Aunt Lea, whom TOTALLY didn’t believe you’d do anything of the sort, so it took me a good three months to get in contact with you.’

‘Holy crap.’

Phoebe sighed deeply and turned away again, as if wishing to shut out Henry from her thoughts. ‘Yea, it’s been a wild ride.’

‘Wait.’ Henry pushed himself a little closer so he could brush a hand over her shoulder, his eyes searching the curve of her nose and the pull of her lips. ‘Do you regret it? It’s okay if you do. I mean, we’re all out, bums out - besides I can’t remember a thing of the things you just said.’

Phoebe shook her head. ‘No.’ She finally looked back up at Henry, her eyes a lot more warm and welcoming than he had expected. ‘I was already smitten with you before I rang this doorbell to give you the happy news you were about to become a dad...and I’d have kept sweetheart Sam either way the wind would have blown.’

‘Sam..Fixing his dad and all.’ Henry smiled.

‘Gods.’ Phoebe chuckled. ‘That was bad.’

‘Kinda. I’ll need some help with managing that rowdy bunch.’ Henry sighed, feeling Phoebe’s hand reaching out to brush through his curls again - he liked it.

‘I had a good night.’ She said.

Henry looked at her and instantly felt his heart flutter, his stomach dropping and palms going sweaty. It was quite obvious that IF he wanted to make a move, he’d have to do it now. And so, with perhaps a bit too awkward a hastiness, he scooted closer to Phoebe, his black burning eyes staring down into her expecting dark blues.

‘I liked it too. I like YOU..too.’ He breathed, making her eyes also grow darker by the second.

‘Good,’ She whispered, switching her focus between his left and right eye, noses slowly crawling closer to one another until their lips were but a breath away from touching.

‘Can I kiss y..-?’

His words lingered somewhere in between the crashing of their two bodies, Phoebe’s arms eagerly pulling him towards her, her lips savouring the taste of mint tea and musk on his tongue. And as eagerly as they started, so eagerly it to-tal-ly escalated. In moments Henry had flipped her flat onto the couch, his hands scorching the skin on her neck and chest, fingertips teasing and touching whatever piece of flesh her simple black dress revealed.

‘FUCK.’ She whined, turning her head to offer him more neck for him to bite down into.

Henry growled and lowered his hip, making her feel the eagerness he felt in the tightness of his dress pants, the fabric strained around his crotch.

‘Oh gods,’ Her breath hiccuped and were it not for Henry’s attentiveness, he wouldn’t have picked up on the tears that had started to spill from her eyes, his body immediately pushing back up before he wiped the stray hairs in her face away, worried eyes studying her trembling lips and blurry gaze.

‘I-I’m so sorry.’ She mumbled, turning her head into the couch pillow, wishing to hide from his penetrative gaze.

‘No, no. It’s okay. Sshhh.’ He sat up on his haunches and pulled her with ease onto his lap, his chin pressing down onto her head as she cried into the open V of his shirt, his chest hair wetting with her agony - yep he kept it buttoned down. ‘Sshhh.’ He hushed, pressing more and more kisses into her golden hair. ‘I’ve got you.’

‘I’ve missed you so much.’ She whimpered, and it was in that moment Henry hated himself for the way his erection twitched beneath the plush of her thighs, his mind having to focus on anything but her scent and warmth - and failed. Henry failed miserably, Bee’s head starting to shake “no” as she pushed herself off his lap.

‘Fwooo…’ She breathed, focusing on slowing her breath before she looked back at Henry with watery eyes, their bodies separated by the magic of opposing magnetic energy; if Henry tried to come closer, she leaned back and vice versa.

‘Maybe we should give THAT a little more time.’ She chuckled through her tears, the back of her hand wiping away the smudge of mascara that was running down her cheek.

‘I’m sorry about that.’ Henry muttered, feeling like he had failed completely, though thankfully Phoebe could only see the hilarity of it:

‘Guess nothing much has changed in that department.’ She sighed and turned her body back towards him. ‘Is it okay if we sleep apart for a little bit? Just to..-’

‘Calm down?’

‘Yea.’ Her lips curled in a smile.

‘I’m not really used to sleeping with women on the first date anyways.’

Phoebe laughed, poking him in the bicep. ‘OH PLEASE, don’t tell me I was the only one you ever..’

Henry laughed along and shrugged with boyish innocence: ‘Can’t remember, but from what I know, I ...never..’

‘Will you go on another date with me though?’

Henry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was pleased with her gentle plea, his hand catching hers to press a sweet and tender promise of a kiss onto the back of her hand. ‘Absolutely.’

That night Henry found himself bunking up with a bed full of stuffies, the bed of his 4-year old the only one he could somewhat fit into.

Turning towards the stuffies, he remembered the notes his wife had given him in the past days: Sam had a stuffy named Mr. Stinky, which he had left behind to watch over his other friends while he was away.

Henry studied the line up of rabbits, elephants, bears and foxes. Which one was Stinky anyways? His wife had said it in between a avalanche of other information, so Henry hadn’t quite managed to catch on like he so wished.

‘Oh..There’s a LOT to learn huh..Mr Stinky? Or ..were you Mr Stinky?’ He looked from stuffy to stuffy, the large beady eyes looking back at him in silence. With a slight smirk on his face Henry pushed his nose into their fluffy bellies, inhaling deeply to find out which one would be Mr. Stinky. But, apparently it was just a name; they all smelled fine.

Rolling onto his back, he switched off the Mario mushroom shaped night light, the ceiling above glowing up with a hundred small stars that had been put up to keep the nightmares at bay.

‘Woa..’ He breathed, feeling his heart flip at the idea that everything about this was real. He had kids. He had..a wife. A family life. And now all he needed to learn was how to fit into his new role. This new ..Henry. And, for the fuck of sakes: if he wasn’t going to jerk off soon, he’d jump his wife before the night was through. It was quite clear how they had never made it to a first date; she simply made his heart and loin ache in a way he had never quite felt before.

Sighing deeply he looked back at the dark row of judgmental beady eyes next to him. He chuckled.

‘Yea...let’s not do that here.’

Chap 5 >

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama

@ceilingfann @do-youseeme

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x ofc #memory loss #the accidental family #date night #mild smut #only mild #more like a tiny smidge #but more to come later

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thadelightfulone · 4 years

Text

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 22

December 25th - Part 1

Erik was at DeeDee’s house waiting for her to finish getting ready. He was relaxing on the couch when his phone rang. He went out to her patio to take the call.

“Merry Christmas man! What’s up?”

“Merry Christmas E! Reena and I wanted to know what you were doing today? You are more than welcome to spend the day with us and the kids.”

“Thanks Quis. You know I would but I already have plans for the day.”

“Take out does not count, E. I know how you are about today. And I don’t want to see you holed up in your hotel room while everyone is with family.”

“Quis! Relax.” He heard noise and turned back towards the apartment. “I promise you, I’m not alone.”

“Who could you possibly - nevermind.”

Erik could hear another voice and some noise in the background.

“Get back woman. He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Put it on speakerphone, Marquis. NOW!”

“Fine.”

Erik heard the click and started to laugh.

“Hello Erik and Merry Christmas.” Serena’s voice came through.

“Good morning. And Merry Christmas to you too, Serena.”

“So, who are you spending the day with?”

“Don’t answer that.” Marquis’ yelled. “Ouch, woman. That hurt.”

“Answer the question, Erik.”

Erik laughed and smiled as DeeDee walked outside to him.

“E, what are you doing outside?”

He pointed to the phone.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She whispered to him, “I’m ready when you are.”

She turned to walk inside and Erik grabbed her hand, pulling her to him.

“You aren’t interrupting anything. Quis and Reena are on the phone arguing about us.”

“About us? What do you mean?”

He pointed to the phone and put it on speaker.

“I told you he was gonna be with her. Pay me my money.”

“Reena, you bet on that?” DeeDee looked at the phone.

“Oh, hey DeeDee girl. I mean I just had a hunch.”

They all heard a loud thump.

“Quis, just get me my money and stop playing.” Serena’s voice sounded far away. “Look, I gotta finish cooking but you two have a wonderful day together.”

“Erik, be careful. She got a family full of women.”

“I think I’ll be ok.”

“We’ll talk to you later. We gotta get over to Ma Dear’s. Merry Christmas Oubres.”

“Merry Christmas DeeDee.”

Erik hung up the phone, leaned against the wall and pulled DeeDee towards him.

“So, what am I truly getting myself into today?”

“You wanna ask that now?” DeeDee crossed her arms over her chest. “After what Quis said?”

“I don’t care as long as I am with you.” Erik held her in his arms.

“Oh, they are going to eat you alive.” DeeDee fixed the collar to his shirt, “We could always order in and chill here.”

“Nope. Since you told me you weren’t cooking me a home-cooked meal.” Erik walked forward and backed DeeDee inside. “I gotta get that from somewhere before I leave.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” She went and grabbed her coat and purse, “Well, then let me not keep you from eating good.”

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed the trays of food.

She shrugged, “I figured all you wanted was pie.”

Erik sighed and rubbed his temples, “You do not play fair, Miss DeeDee.”

“Fair? Don’t know the word.” She tugged at his arm, “Let’s go.”

---

The drive over to the house was comfortably quiet. Erik observed the scenery as he drove past the big trees lining the one-way streets and highways. He looked at some of the large one-story ranch homes as they entered the residential side of town.

Erik held DeeDee’s hand as she softly dozed in the passenger seat. They were bringing some of the desserts for today. And DeeDee told him store-bought was not an option. They spent last night making apple, pecan, and sweet potato pies from scratch. He had fun and he knew it had everything to do with the woman next to him.

He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss when he noticed a family outside in the cool winter morning. Some older women were sitting on the porch and watched the men of the family play catch or touch football in the front yard. A young mother stood at the top of the steps holding a baby and some little girls were running around with dolls in their hands.

Erik smiled at the scene. He was his parents’ only child but he always wanted a big family, especially during the holidays. And even though he had his father’s family, they didn’t do holidays like this, not like he grew up with. But his DeeDee already had all of that down here.

He couldn’t believe how intertwined their lives were and they only officially met a month ago. There was definitely something to what Miss Carrie told him last week, but he knew he was not the man that he is today. No telling what could have happened between them had they met before he was ready for her.

“Erik.” DeeDee’s sleepy voice drew him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“You’re about to pass the house.”

DeeDee pointed towards the house he was just admiring.

“That’s Ma Dear’s house?”

“Yeah, she’s about 2 streets over from Mama.”

“My bad, I was on autopilot to Miss Carrie’s.”

DeeDee laughed, “Yeah, I know.”

Erik pulled over and parked. They got out and moved to get the pies from the back seat. DeeDee tapped his arm from her side.

“Marquis didn’t lie. The women run my family. But you should know that since you know Mama.”

“Awww, are you worried about me, Miss DeeDee?”

“You? No. Me? Yeah.”

“Hey. Come here.”

DeeDee pushed the tray over to his side, closed the door on her side and walked over to the driver’s side with Erik.

“What’s up?”

“A lot and nothing.”

Erik lifted her chin.

“I don’t bring guests.”

“Just desserts?”

“They know who taught me. So, it’s a safe bet.”

“You say the word and we can go.”

DeeDee sighed, “Yeah.”

“I mean it. Deal?”

“Okay.” She looked at him, “Did I mention that most of my cousins are single?”

“What’s that got to do with me? There’s only one woman’s attention I want.”

DeeDee smiled and nodded.

“And that’s Miss Carrie.” Erik laughed and caught DeeDee’s hand when she tried to hit him. “Aht, aht, aht. I already have yours.”

“Maybe.” DeeDee laughed at his facial expression.

“Wow, ok.” He picked up the pies and grabbed her hand. “You ready?”

She looked down at their hands, “Yup.”

---

“Is that little DeeDee? And with a man?” The man with the football called out, “Ma, you gotta see this!”

“Junior, why you yelling at me?” One of the women on the porch stood up, “I see her. Go sit down somewhere.” She shooed him away.

Erik and DeeDee came up the walkway and were approached by various members of the family. Erik squeezed her hand and DeeDee put a smile on her face.

“Hey babies.” Miss Carrie pushed her way through the crowd, “Don’t worry about them. Come on inside and put them pies down.”

“Oooh, DeeDee made the pies again?”

“There is a god.”

DeeDee shook her head and waved to her cousins.

They followed Miss Carrie into the house and the kitchen. Erik handed the pies over to a woman who looked like she could be DeeDee’s older sister. Same bright eyes, height, and smile, only her hair was streaked with white. She set the pies on the countertop and turned down the music.

Then she walked over and gave DeeDee a hug. “DeeDee, you gonna introduce us to your friend?” She sat down at the table and pulled a bowl of beans towards her.

“Ma, this is Erik.” DeeDee looked at him. “Erik, this is my mom, Gloria.”

“Call me Glory, everyone else does.”

“You already know Mama.”

Erik stepped over and gave Miss Carrie a hug. He looked at the table and saw two more women who shared the family resemblance.

“At the table with mom are my aunts, Randi and Kayla. They are her sisters.”

DeeDee’s aunts nodded to Erik and continued with their work. DeeDee reached up into the cabinets and got out two glasses. She tapped Erik and gave him one, then walked over to the counter near the sink. Erik followed her as she got some sweet tea for herself.

“DeeDee, make sure he stays with the boys. You know them sorry daughters of mine.”

“Aunt Kay!”

“Aunt Kay, nothing.” She picked up her glass of lemonade. “If they don’t bring someone, they searching and you know this.”

“Don’t want to see you crying like Crystal was year before last when -” Randi tapped the table with a knife, “that Gregory boy was snatched up by one of them. I don’t understand why ya’ll don’t wait until you married to bring ya men around.”

“DeeDee, if one of them try you. I give you permission to snatch her bald.” Kayla continued.

Erik filled his glass with tea and lemonade. He leaned against the counter and took a sip while the ladies talked.

“Oh, I don’t think it will come to that. And my mama taught me better than that.”

“What I say? Cuz I am with them on this one. Don’t let them heffas try you over him.” Gloria looked at Erik, “Especially when he seems to be the type worth fighting for.”

“I know that’s right,” Kayla spoke up.

“Are you Mr. Erik?” Randi asked.

“Ma’am?”

“Worth fighting for?” Randi repeated.

“I believe I am.”

All the women nodded and Miss Carrie smiled from her corner.

“We’ll see about that.” Gloria mumbled.

“Let’s go. Time to introduce you to the boys.” DeeDee dragged Erik out of the kitchen.

They walked outside with their drinks and DeeDee leaned on the railing.

“Are they playing a real game of touch or just passing the ball back and forth?”

“You would have to ask them. I never pay them any attention when they’re outside.”

The two oldest men looked over at them. He had the ball and ran over to Erik and DeeDee. The rest followed.

“Aye DeeDee. How you been girl?”

“I’m fine Uncle AJ. And you?”

“You know I’m good.” He pointed the ball at Erik, “Whose your little friend?”

“Everybody, this is Erik.” She looked to him, “Erik, the two older gentlemen are my uncles, AJ and Rob. And the other two knuckleheads are my cousins, Junior and Darrick.”

“We’re Ma Dear’s boys. Have you met her yet?” Rob said.

“Not yet. I only know Miss Carrie.”

“Of course, he knows Mama.” Darrick spoke up, “You one of them Southern boys she be feeding at her restaurant?”

“Not anymore, but I used to be.”

“You play?” AJ held up the ball.

“Yeah, I do.” Erik sipped his drink.

“Good, we just messing around now. But we will have a game of touch later.”

“Just let me know when I’m down.”

DeeDee turned around and saw Ma Dear headed over to her chair. She pulled Erik in that direction.

“Hey Ma Dear.” DeeDee called out.

The older woman stopped and turned around to face them. DeeDee walked over and gave her a hug.

“Hey baby.” She looked at her, “You look good.” Ma Dear looked over at Erik, “And who is this fine young man you brought home?”

“This is Erik, ma’am.”

He leaned forward and gave her a hug. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Carrie!” Ma Dear yelled out.

“Yeah Etta?” She could be heard from inside the house through the front screen.

“Is this that boy you were talking about?”

DeeDee dropped her head, “Seriously?”

Erik coughed to cover his laugh. Then Miss Carrie burst through the front door and looked over at them.

“Oh yeah, that’s him.”

“Hmmm. Well, she looks happy so I can’t complain.” Ma Dear sat down in her rocking chair, “Don’t ever let her smile drop son.”

“Yes ma’am,” He looked at DeeDee. “I don’t intend to.”

---

Everyone was scattered around the house after eating during the first round of food and taking the first of many naps. The second and third turkeys were finally done and the uncles brought the rest of the meat in off the grill. All the food was done for whoever arrived or was ready for their next plate.

DeeDee and Erik were sitting on the porch swing. Her legs were on his lap and she leaned back with her arms laid across her body. Before long, she was asleep again. Erik took out his phone and snapped a few shots of her.

“Uh huh.” A voice came from the screen door before it opened.

Erik looked over and saw Ma Dear as she walked out of the house. She sat down in her chair right next to him.

“Ma’am.”

“Does she know?”

“About?”

“You helping Carrie?”

“No ma’am.”

“Good. And the other thing?”

“What other thing?”

“That you love her?”

“No ma’am.”

“Don’t wait too long.”

“I actually plan to tell her -”

“Ma Dear! How are you?” A loud voice bounced up the steps.

DeeDee stirred on the swing and lost her balance, but Erik caught her before she fell. He looked up to see her friend from the other day.

The young woman looked at him, “Erik, right. What are you doing here?”

“Phylly Phyll, what are you doing here?” DeeDee asked mid-yawn.

DeeDee moved her legs off of him and sat up straight.

“Bev invited me like she does every year.”

“And you finally came.” DeeDee said under her breath. “How nice. Where is she anyway?” She spoke up.

“Over there with Brandon. They are getting stuff out of the car.”

DeeDee tensed up at the mention of his name.

“Bev is your other friend who I met on Friday, right?” Erik directed his question to DeeDee.

“Yeah. She’s also my cousin.”

“Let me go help them out. I’ll be back.” Erik tapped DeeDee’s leg and left the porch.

“Why would you bring him here?” DeeDee yelled at Phyllis.

“Because he wanted to see you, duh.” Phyllis rolled her eyes, “How was I supposed to know you were bringing Mr. Note here for Christmas? Shouldn’t he be home with his folks anyway?”

“Little girl, you better not start no mess this year.” Ma Dear called out, “I will have my great-grands toss your fast ass right on out my house.”

DeeDee stood up when Ma Dear got up and helped her inside.

“I don’t understand why ya’ll keep her around?” Ma Dear mumbled as DeeDee closed the door behind her. “Ain’t that much friendship in the world.”

DeeDee turned around and faced Phyllis.

“Keep him away from me. I mean it Phyll.”

“I have no control over a grown ass man.” Phyllis shrugged.

“WOW! Phyll.” DeeDee turned and stormed inside the house, slamming the screen door behind her.

---

Erik ran over to Beverly and Brandon down the street.

“Bev?”

She turned around to see who called her name. Brandon stopped what he was doing to find out also.

“Oh, Erik. Hey, did DeeDee send you over here?”

“No, Phyllis mentioned you were out here with stuff to bring to the house. Figured I could help.”

“Thanks man. But we got it handled.” Brandon responded.

Erik looked him up and down. Brandon did not look a day over 16, but he recognized the smug look on his face. Fuckery was afoot and Erik was ready to play.

“You sure about that?” Erik watched him struggle with some cases of water, “Let me get that for you.”

Erik took the case from Brandon, lifted it up and onto his shoulder. He picked up the other case from the trunk, put it on his other side and walked back to the house.

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @arafatih @issimplyaamazinggg @tchallasbabymama @killmonger-fics @beautifullmelodyxx @raysunshine78 @fd-writes @ljstraightnochaser @just-peachee @kaleidoscopeofsoul @sincerelykas

#25 days of christmas challenge #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #bp christmas #all i want #thadelightfulone

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aeroknot · 3 years

Text

kinda riffing off the exhausting thought about 2019 only being 2 years ago...

like. every hour i feel guilty for “not doing more.” some of that guilt and shame i think is... more suited to me just needing to take some personal responsibility for procrastination and laziness. but a lot of it is... truly, what i suspect to be undiagnosed ADD that i haven’t learned how to manage yet. and fatigue.

i have to let myself remember the fatigue. to remember - spurred by my flippant comment - that 2020 knocked me on my ass. i know it was truly horrific for the whole world, so i think i downplay my own struggles because of that. i’m alive, i have a home, and i’m not in a depressive spiral— that’s the win, right? i should be grateful. i should be thriving.

but, like... my dad’s cancer came back and hasn’t really budged. my brother was almost stuck in russia— his flights kept getting canceled (not even because of covid— because of bomb threats); he just barely squeaked through the travel bans. my car was repossessed because of an error in renewal and payment instructions given to us by the dealership. so we bought it— just paid off what was left of the lease. 3 months later that car was rear-ended and totaled— when i already barely left the house bc of covid and especially bc of my immunocompromised father. so in the like 10 times i’d left the house in 6 months, i suffered a year-long insurance runaround over a crash that was 0% my fault. a few weeks after the car being totaled, i had to flee my home when raging wildfires encircled it on all four directions of the compass. i cried every day in the hotel room. the fires got within 2 miles of my home, with every sentimental item and art piece of mine inside. my mother was attacked in her own home— broken ribs, broken knee, the psychological trauma. covid closed our family restaurant multiple times— and continues to; we are pouring personal loans from our savings / investments and federal loans into the business to keep afloat. meanwhile all of the election distress and pain of our polarized society was buzzing in the background. and oh, the isolation: i haven’t seen a friend in real life in over a year, and i’m already a very majorly introverted homebody with rejection sensitive dysphoria so i self-isolate. and at christmas i found out my cousin was admitted into long-term rehab for her eating disorders, which i didn’t even know she was struggling with.

and after all that... i am sitting here, beating myself up for art block— and for struggling to re-organize my life— and for being reluctant to go fight the mental health system that wants to tell me i’m overreacting to diagnose myself with adult ADD— and for being afraid to hope for success— and having trouble believing in myself— and overall just berating myself for worrying about my most basic pyramid levels of security needs being met.

it was a hard year. can i let that sink in? can i allow myself some grace?

#some negativity #i mean i guess it’s only negative in the sense i’m listing so much crappy stuff #but i guess my point is positive bc it’s like ‘....damn cut yourself some slack’#venting #personal shit #the occasional public diary entry #aero whines sometimes #mental health #aero talks to herself

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callmeelle22 · 4 years

Text

Snow

Gifted to @dameintoyland for the Flash Holiday Gift Exchange @theflashholidaysgiftexchange

Pairing: Barry Allen x Iris West

Word Count: 5912

Rating: M

Summary: Softly falling snow, spiked hot chocolate, and some light smut for the holiday season.

I want a snowfall kind of love, the kind of love that quiets the world.

When the snow starts, Barry recognizes how ridiculous it was to decide to walk to the store in the middle of the night. But, in the end, he’s sure it had been worth it.

It’d been because of a mere case of insomnia, that and the gnawing need for sustenance. A look into his refrigerator had revealed only a carton of expired eggs, an empty jug of orange juice, and a ridiculous amount of condiment bottles, so he’d stuffed his socked feet into a pair of sneakers, zipped himself into a coat, and jammed a beanie on top of his head before he’d ventured out into the cold.

When the snow starts, he’s only a few minutes into the fifteen minute walk to the grocery store. His collar is pulled up and his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants as he takes cursory glances at the world around him. The snow is just flurries, tiny drops that appear more like rain before it hits the ground, but Barry knows how picturesque this place will look when the snow gets going in earnest. The little neighborhood he lives in, one they’re calling the arts district, is filled with tiny shops owned by rich women and their Etsy jewelry, restaurants where the food speaks, murals painted on every single building that depicts a sort of effortless diversity that isn’t actually true for the area. That’s even more notable when he looks at all of the Christmas decorations in the windows of the shops, sparkling garland wrapped around every available column, bright green wreaths chock-full of shiny gold ornaments, brilliant red bows on door handles and lamp posts. It’s all been up, much to Barry’s chagrin, since the season apparently started on November 1st, and it’s why he’s survived on work, take-out, and The West Wing since.

He curses his own absurdity as he enters the small grocery store and picks up an arm cart with a half frozen hand. The store is one of those small ones, the ones that sell mostly single serving portions at regular prices, the store’s bright lights and gleaming floors convincing customers it’s worth paying five dollars for a half a carton of eggs. They’ve been bit by the Christmas bug too, a song he doesn’t know, I want a snowfall kind of love, that lights up the sky from below; I want a snowfall kind of love, that brings people to their window, playing in the background. They’ve managed to plop a tree smack dab in the middle of the store and the aisles are full of what he’s sure the manager thinks are only subtle odes to this godforsaken holiday.

He tries to be quick, to hurry home before he has to start sliding through the snow. He throws a loaf of bread into his cart, some cheese and eggs, packages of bacon and deli ham. He remembers that they’ve got a pretty decent frozen pizza section too, so he grabs a couple of those, trying not to focus on the fact that he’s 27 and lonely and still eating like he did when he was in undergrad—and let’s be honest, in grad school too. He rounds another corner to decide on a six-pack, or two, of beer. And that’s when he sees her.

She’s a petite thing, shorter than she normally looks when Barry sees her hightailing it from the apartment across from his, in pencil skirts and shoes with heels like spikes. Her hair usually falls straight against her shoulder blades, soft looking and shiny, and he’s only ever seen her mouth painted in shades of purple and red. Tonight, this morning, she’s as dressed down as he’s ever seen her. She's only in a pair of gray leggings, a tight white t-shirt that cups her firm chest, a faux fur-lined coat thrown over it. Her hair is in a curly wavy style that falls right at her shoulders, and he likes it, how soft and sweet it makes her look.

When he sees her in the mornings, as she’s leaving their building, it makes him a little tongue-tied, especially when she’s in those tucked in blouses that show off the deep curve of her waist. The look of her like this, though, makes Barry wonder what it feels like to have heart palpitations and if he’s having them.

He’s watching her, probably a little creepily, and so when she turns, she catches her eyes. Now, Barry really can’t breathe. Her face is improbably pretty: deep ochre skin, dark chocolate eyes, a full pouty mouth that calls for his attention as she bites at the bottom one. He thinks, for a moment, of what it might be like to be beside her, naked, her lovely brown skin next to his paler body, her small, soft hands laced in his. He wonders, in the same moment, what it might be like to kiss her—her mouth, the soft heat between her legs—her long-lashed eyes closed in ecstasy. It paints a pretty vivid picture and Barry is sure he loses a bit of time.

“Oh, I know you,” she says, a hint of passion in her voice.

Barry blinks, looks behind him at the freezer full of overpriced beer, and then back to where there’s more than a hint of a smirk on her face.

“You mean me?”

“Yeah. You’re the one with the lab coat.”

Barry would like to note that as long as she’s been living across from him, a few months now, he’s been hoping for glimpses of her each time he’s left his own apartment. It’s a bit astonishing to know that she’s noticed him too.

“I, uh, yeah,” he mumbles, reaching up the rub at the back of his head. “I, I wear a lab coat.”

“Nice,” she says, and there’s some honey in the way she says the word, the way it drips down off her tongue.

Barry tilts his head, a bit incredulous. “Lab coats get you off?”

It isn’t what he meant to say, but her grin gets wider and there’s no doubt that Barry’s face goes bright red.

“I didn’t mean…” he starts, but the words get stuck.

She doesn’t seem offended. If anything, her grin gets wider, turns dirtier, and she winks at him as she starts to push her cart away. “See ya, lab coat.

“Wait,” he calls, and she turns, neatly shaped eyebrows raised.

“It's, uh, it's Barry, Barry Allen," he manages to get out.

“I'm Iris West," she tells him. And then she—and Barry admits he could be hallucinating, admits that he might be high off the scent of her, of shea and coconut—gives him a slow, long look over, taking in the length of his legs and his slim torso, his broad shoulders. She lingers, in a few places he’s sure, at his crotch and somewhere around his throat, and then she's looking at his face again. She licks her lips. "I'll see you around, Barry Allen."

That should be it, Barry thinks, as she leaves the aisle and he presses as much of himself against the cold freezer glass as he can. Good lord. But then Barry pays for his food with the scowling person they’ve convinced to work the night shift at a 24 hour grocery store, and then he’s walking out of the store, clutching his purchases, prepared to make his way back home. And then Iris West is calling out for him, her car idling at the corner beside him.

“Just taking a late night stroll?” she wonders.

He licks at his lips where they've suddenly gone dry. "Yeah. I got hungry and there wasn't any food in my apartment."

“So you thought a quick walk in the snow would do it?"

Were it anyone else, he thinks he might have been annoyed at her for goading him. But she's pretty and he likes the way her dark eyes sparkle with mirth, and something a bit deeper, darker, when she looks at him.

“I feel like you're judging me," he says, his own mouth quirking up.

“Of course I am." She pauses as she turns back into the car. She seems to be moving things around. “Get in, Barry Allen."

They don’t make much conversation on the short ride to their apartment building. The night is quiet on the empty streets, made quieter by the radio turned off and only the hum of the heater as noise. He wants to talk, but he doesn’t know what to say, or if she even wants to speak, so he let’s the ride soothe him. It reminds him of time spent with his parents, years ago. He’d always had trouble sleeping, a condition that has no true origins. But, sometimes, when he couldn’t get to sleep and he’d started to get grumpy because of it, his parents would bundle him up, sit him in the back of the car, and drive around until easy listening jazz and soft falling snow had lulled him to sleep. It’s one of many memories of his family, of the parents he’d lost when he’d been old enough to register their absence. He tries to keep them at bay, those memories that could turn overwhelming and crippling were he to let it.

Christmas doesn’t help. They’d been big Christmas people, spending the Friday after Thanksgiving picking out a tree and dusting off ornaments that had been sitting in the attic for the year, baking cookies as they let him throw tinsel everywhere. The last year he'd had with them, when he was seven years old and had just begun wearing those hideous coke-bottle top glasses, had been the biggest one yet. He'd been allowed to do more: actually pick the Christmas tree, carefully put the cookies in the oven, write out the full thank you for Santa Claus. It'd all been so exhilarating, until the day after Christmas, when date night had turned into a crushed car and stoic police officers and a bull faced woman who'd made him throw clothes in a duffle bag he hadn't owned; when he’d been stuck with the reality that the last time he would ever see his parents was through the window of his old house, Christmas lights blinking back at him.

“Hey, we’re here."

It’s only when she speaks that Barry notices they’ve stopped and she’s parked in one of the spots designated for their building. He looks at her, blinking back into the present. He answers the question written all over her face.

“Oh, yes. I'm," he shakes his head, trying to clear it. He swallows. "Yeah, I'm good."

This time, the smile she gives him is kind.

“Sure?"

“Yeah." He rubs at his eyes. "Let's get inside before the snow starts falling more."

Later, Barry will give half a thought to what makes Iris West invite him into her apartment. They both schlep up the stairs to their third floor apartments, bags in hand, Barry trying not to wish her coat would rise a little higher as he follows behind her. He grabs his key from the pocket of his sweatpants, poised with a hand at the door, and when he turns to tell her good night, she’s staring back at him, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. If he didn’t know any better, he might think she was nervous.

“Chances you’d want to come in?” she blurts, “for some hot chocolate?”

Barry has two choices here. He can say thank you and go into his apartment, where the snow will still be falling and he’ll drink at least two of the beers he bought, and he’ll think about what he and his parents might’ve been doing for this Christmas holiday. Or he can go into the apartment of the woman he’s been drooling after for months and share some hot chocolate.

So really, there’s no choice at all.

************

The clock on Iris’s microwave reads 1:15 when he finds himself standing beside her stove.

When they’d first come into the apartment, she’d left him awkwardly at the door while she’d gone to change. He’d kicked off his shoes at the door, placed his coat on one of the hooks near her door, and then he’d taken a casual glance around the room. Her apartment has the same layout as his, an open floor plan with a large living room and nice sized kitchen, a large island separating the two rooms in lieu of a dining area. A hallway off the living room leads to two bedrooms and a separate bathroom. That is where the similarities end, though. Her place is cozy, the living room featuring an overstuffed couch in a robin's blue fabric and a cream colored loveseat. A large rug under a distressed cream coffee table in a swirling pattern of blues and golds and greens ties it all together. It's a far cry from the hand me down-albeit comfortable-sectional that takes up most of his living area and the hardwood floors he hadn't bothered to cover when he realized that any decent rug cost his grocery bill for a couple weeks.

Even more is the fact that it's decorated for Christmas. There's a neat tree in the corner, teeming with shiny ornaments and blue garland and strings of white lights. There's some gold and silver tinsel thrown artfully in a way that Barry would never be able to manage, and even his cold, anti-Christmas heart can admit that with the giant blue, gold, and cream bow at the top, the tree is beautiful. Other knick knacks find their places around the room: two stockings on her mantle, a few blue bows tied on various pieces of furniture, an intricate figurine of a black Santa Claus. He’d thought that he should have figured her for a Christmas person.

When she'd come back, it’d been confirmed. She'd thrown on a pajama short set, the top with buttons and a collar, the bottoms showing the expanse of legs that look too long for her short stature, all of it in candy cane stripes. Barry doesn't always love the symbols of Christmas, especially those that remind him too much of the last one he had with his parents, but nothing in Barry's body objected to seeing her walking out like that, not even the reindeer socks covering her feet and ankles. He's glad that he'd showered and thrown on clean clothes after his Netflix binge.

Now, he stands beside her as she whisks cocoa powder into a large saucepan full of milk and sugar. Her kitchen is neat and clean, with bright yellow accessories and framed quotes that claim her love of coffee.

“Did you ever make cocoa with your parents?”

He glances down at his socked feet, and then over at her. She's still whisking, her small hands and nude nails gently gripping the base of the whisk. His heart clenches at the question, but when she starts speaking without his answer, he thinks maybe it expands, just a little bit.

“My grandma swore by homemade hot chocolate. Homemade everything, really. She'd only ever make it in December and only on Sunday nights. It was a thing to look forward to, I guess, a sort of tradition.”

“Does she still make it every Sunday in December?”

She shakes her head, her answering smile only a touch sad. "No. She died when I was 15."

Barry wonders how she does it, says the words without the pain of death overtaking her, without the memory of drinking hot cocoa with her grandmother sending her running away from milk and chocolate and sugar.

“I,” he says, and decides that this must be the way people feel when he used to tell them about his own parents, full of pity and sympathy. “I’m really sorry, Iris.”

“Thanks. She was ready to go, so I think I made peace with it early on."

Barry stays leaned against the counter as he watches her, the stirring methodical, an easy, constant clockwise motion. “Did your grandmother teach you how to make anything else?”

“She tried,” Iris tells him, laughing up at him. “But it never took. I am woefully inadequate in the kitchen.”

There’s something about a woman like Iris, beautiful and seemingly kind, that intimidates him. She seems so self assured, so well-adjusted, that he seems too good for him, like he’d only manage to bring her down into the depths of his own grief if he wasn’t careful.

“Can you cook?” She wants to know.

He shakes his head. “I literally just bought frozen pizza and eggs.”

“Good.” She gives him a sharp nod. “If you could cook on top of being this cute, I’m not sure I’d let you leave this apartment.”

Barry leans down and catches her eyes. “I could learn, if you wanted me to.”

Iris hums, holding his eyes, and hers flash, white teeth biting into her bottom lip. It feels like heat, swirling around them, taking over, settling in the middle of the kitchen. It feels tight, his entire body, the result of a strange mix of swirling thoughts and deep-rooted emotions. There’s the underlying feel of heartache, a steady companion since his childhood. The loneliness that usually accompanies has taken a backseat to the growing lust flooding his system, the tightening of his chest and the tingling in his hands he gets when he looks at her. He isn’t normally a flirt, is normally a fumbling mess when he gets around beautiful women. But it’s her, this woman, that makes him feel a touch bolder, a touch daring, a bit more like he would be if he didn’t live so much in his head.

“It’s time for chocolate chips,” she announces, and it’s the only warning Barry gets before she’s suddenly pressed against him. In reality, it’s quick, he knows it is. She merely reaches over him to grab a package of chocolate chips from the cupboard above his head. But god, if the world doesn’t stop moving as he feels the full length of her, supple thighs flush against the hardness of his, her flat belly and firm breasts almost molded to him. The smell of her is overpowering, the coconut and shea butter, the cocoa powder she’d stirred into the milk.

Barry swallows as she steps back into her own space. He would think that the moment would be gone, that her dropping those chocolate chips into the pan and stirring them to melt them faster would calm him down. It doesn’t.

It’s there, festering, as she finishes the hot chocolate, pouring the sweet drinks into giant mugs and topping them with a bit of Bailey’s. That earns him a wink, the gesture even more potent than the boozy cream he’s drinking on a mostly empty stomach. He follows her to her living room, where she sits down on the couch and motions for him to do the same. She grabs a blanket from the top of the couch and spreads it out with one hand, placing it over her lap and his, closing the distance between them just a little. He sits with his back fully against the sofa, but she’s cross-legged facing him, her attention on him intense. The room adds to it all, the Christmas tree providing the only light in the room, the small white lights casting shadows across her face. It doesn’t help, or it doesn’t hurt rather, this smooth setting. It brings it all to the forefront, the lust flowing as easily through his veins as the blood tends to do.

The following order of events he’ll give more than half a thought. He’ll question, but certainly not complain about, how they go from talking to falling against her bed, naked and twisted in her sheets.

The questions start innocently enough: how old are you? What’s your career? What are your hobbies? He finds that she’s 28 to his 27, a journalist to his research scientist, loves hiking to his personal science experiments. It’s almost like a date, the way they laugh with each other over their mugs, the spiked chocolate the invitation they need to go deeper than he imagines either of them would on a first date, to bare secrets he’d probably never speak aloud.

He learns that she’s been watching him, waiting for a chance to speak to him, except the combination of her rushing and his own grumpy morning face kept her from reaching out. He tells her that the feeling was mutual, that he’d had improper thoughts of her after seeing her in those skirts, that he’d figured she’d never go for a guy like him so he’d just kept his distance. This takes them into deeper, dirtier waters. She wants to know his type, and he tells her, between warming sips of chocolate, that “I didn’t know, until recently, my love for women with deep brown skin and wide set eyes, and a mouth I want to sink into.” It’s the Bailey’s, he knows, but it’s her too, and him when he’s with her, and he likes the way the words tumble from his mouth, the way she pulls the words from him.

If she were lighter, he figures there might be a touch of red at her cheeks, but she only looks down for a brief moment, a long pink tongue swiping over that bottom lip, and he watches as much as hears her say, “I always wonder if those moles are just on your face, at your throat, or if they’re everywhere else,” and Barry swallows at how her eyes drop down, as if she can see beneath his t-shirt where more moles are peppered, as if she can tell that they’re dotted on his thighs too, right around where he’s slowly growing thick and hard.

It’s after this revelation, that the tides turn.

He watches her, for signs that this isn’t just the talking of strangers drunk of chocolate and each other. There is the rise and fall of her chest, the parted lips, her eyes that keep caressing the length of him. There is her leaning towards him, her body titled enough that he can look down the front of her top, where the mounds of her breasts are free, calling for his teeth and tongue. He swallows the rest of his drink and sits the mug down on her coffee table. Iris’s moves are similar, yet more deliberate. Barry finds himself enamored by the column of her throat as she drinks, by her nude brown nails as she wipes the excess from her mouth. She stands, her shorts riding high up on her hips, and time slows again as she plops her mug down and then comes to stand in front of him. He sits back, so that he can see all of her, until she’s sliding into his lap, and then he can really see all of her, just in the curve of her smile. And then she kisses him.

The taste of her is unbelievable, like the cream she’s been drinking and like something else warmer, something else sweeter. It’s been months since he’s kissed anyone, and the times had been few and far between before, but Barry knows that nothing has ever, could ever, compare to the feeling of kissing Iris West. She’s so soft on top of him, so much warmer than he would have thought, and he’s so overwhelmed with the feel of her, that he doesn’t know what to do outside of kissing her.

Iris takes the lead. She grips both of his hands in hers, placing one at her waist and the other at her hip, and then she sinks her fingers into his hair. The kiss turns deeper, the slide of her mouth against his, the slip of her tongue between his lips, the soft clash of teeth as they figure each other out. He tries to learn her, to adjust. She likes when he nips at her bottom lip, when he brings into his mouth to suck, so he takes advantage of that, swallowing the sounds of her moans. He likes the way her fingers tip down his throat, her nails lightly digging into his skin.

It is the sort of kiss that is written about, odes to the shape of her lips, sonnets that praise the taste of her tongue. There are songs, made for nights like this, for faint lights. and warm hands and hearts pounding. If he had the ability, he would pen poems about her, about her thick thighs spread over his lap and the heat of her body he swears he can feel through the fabric of their clothes.

She pulls back, her lids lowered, those chocolate eyes more black than brown now. She licks her lips again, as she watches him, as if chasing the taste of him, and Barry groans low in his throat. Her response is to smile at him, easy and seductive.

“Want to go into my bedroom?”

Barry’s hands tighten on her hips. “I want to go anywhere with you.”

It becomes, Barry decides, the best night of his life. She climbs off of him, and takes his hand, pulling him down the hall. He only takes enough of a glance around to know that the blues and the yellows and golds extend to this room too, accents to the soft white comforter over her queen sized bed. He sees the matching dresser and bookshelf, and it’s all pieces of her that Barry hopes he gets to explore.

She instructs him to take his clothes off, and he does, peeling off his shirt, his sweatpants, his boxers and socks too. Her clothes come off in quick and elegant movements, and Barry laments not being able to stare at her for longer, at the even, deep brown skin and the full breasts hanging heavy, her nipples like the perfect pieces of chocolate chips she’d melted earlier. Her belly is flat, hips round, calves shapely, and the look of her warms him from the inside.

He has very little control, and he happily gives it up, falling onto his back when she pushes him down and crawls atop him again. She uses the sharp tips of her nails and the wide flat of her tongue to trace constellations into his skin, to connect the dots across his chest, the dots at the slight v of his hips; to stamp her name on the imperfections marring the skin of his thighs. It’s a heady feeling, only multiplied when Iris takes the length of him into her hand and then into her mouth. His head drops back onto the pillow, her mouth warm and wet. She takes as much of him as she can and then she pulls back to the tip. She gathers the spit in her mouth, letting it drip down his dick, and then she’s sucking him with purpose, her hands sliding up and down where her mouth can’t reach, the suction of her lips glorious. She swallows him down, the slight gag when he hits the back of her throat releasing something primal in him.

“Fuck, Iris,” he says and it’s something more like a growl, the feel of her indescribable. She hums around him, and then pulls away with a pop, giving her attention to his swollen, aching testicles. He lets her suck him until his breathing grows labored, and then he’s pulling gently at her curly hair, stuttering, “want, want to come in you.”

She stays on her knees in front of him, for moments longer, and then she smiles, the sultry one she’d thrown at him in the grocery store, the one she’d thrown him in the kitchen, the smile that’s got him in her bedroom.

“It’s insane how beautiful you are,” he tells her, and he likes the way it makes her body flush, a red tinge to her skin. He motions for her now, and she crawls back up, settling her crotch over him. He notes the warmth of her pussy on his belly, and it makes his own grin a touch sordid.

“Is this because of me?” He finds himself asking. “Did sucking me off get you wet?”

Her eyes flutter closed briefly.

“I like it,” she says, “when you say these dirty things I’m not expecting.”

“It’s only because of you,” he says, and then he curls his finger around her neck and brings her down to kiss him.

This kiss is wet, open-mouthed, filthy. Barry wonders how he got here, how a short walk in the snow led to this gorgeous person writhing atop him, mumbling increasingly coarse things in his ear. He touches her where he can: fingers tipping down her spine and over her hips; hands kneading her breasts, pinching gently at the hardened peaks of her nipples; thumbing her swollen clit until the wet of her is dripping down her thighs.

Then Barry flips her over, under the insatiable need to have her spread out beneath him, and he watches her tiny hands cover the length of him with a condom.

When he’s finally inside of her, Barry swears that, when she kicks him out of her bed, he’ll do everything in his power to be worthy of her. As her thighs clamp at his hips and he swivels them until he’s buried all the way inside her, he vows to work to be enough for her, and for him too.

She’s so wet, as he rocks into her, and he tells her so, murmuring into her ear, “god, you’re so wet, baby; you feel so good around me.” She talks back, as she digs her nails into his skin enough to leave scars. “I, I never,” she whispers, her voice is soft like white falling snow and sweet like warm, melting chocolate. “I never guessed you’d feel like this.”

She milks him, gripping him in her heat, clenching around him as pulls out, letting her wetness flood him when he pushes back in. Their rhythm is steady, rocking and sliding, rocking and sliding. He holds onto her thigh, hiking it over his hip, and he tangles his hands in her hair enough to hold her steady, enough to take her mouth again. His mouth is gentler on her, mimicking the slide of his body. This feels deeper somehow, their bodies so close he’s touching every single part of her. She pulls away only enough to gasp against his mouth, “damn, Barry Allen,” falling off against his lips, followed by a laugh that turns into a low, slow “ffffuuuucccckkkk.”

When he comes, it’s at the same time that she’s clenching around his dick, their bodies slick with sweat. He falls on top of her, and their breathing mellows out. Eventually, he tries to move away from her, but she holds him there, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his neck.

“You okay?” he whispers.

He feels her nod against him. “Perfect.”

************

She doesn’t kick him out after.

Instead, they clean up and then she asks Alexa to play a song, I want a snowfall kind of love, the kind that keeps you in bed all day; oh I want to walk through with you, and watch it all melt away, and she curls into him, her naked breasts pressing against his side, her leg thrown over his thigh. He’s in the space between exhaustion and awareness, his eyes heavy lidded as he comes back down from the high that was being inside Iris West.

There’s a sort of ambiance to the room now, one that makes this all seem more romantic and intimate than he knows what to do with. The blinds are open to the wall length windows that make these apartments worth it, and the night is dark, any stars in the navy blue blanket overshadowed by the softly falling snow. The flakes are thicker now, sticking to where they drop. It has the makings of a storm, especially in how much faster it’s coming down than when he’d been walking in it.

He can imagine them, in only a few hours, when the sun has barely crested the horizon and the cold is settling into the room, being wrapped up in Iris again. He can imagine even more, when the snow melts and the sun is on its way back down again, holding Iris’s hand in his as she walks beside him, in red high heels that match his shirt, in an easy smile that looks like his own, as they head to where they’ll talk and laugh and flirt over red wine and candlelight.

And because he can imagine it, because he wants to imagine it, to make it a reality, he finds himself telling her all of it: about The West Wing marathon he’d been watching since the start of the month because he remembers it had been his parents’ favorite show and he’d seen that it was on Netflix; about his attempts to befriend one of his colleagues, Cisco, because he’s never really had a friend and he thinks that he can be one, if he tries hard enough; about the crashed car that changed his life and the pain of Christmas lights and shiny tinsel that he’s begun talking to someone to alleviate.

For a moment, he thinks he’s said too much. Sure, she’s pretty and she’s sweet and she makes him feel like no one ever has before. But he’s only met her hours ago and it’s this, this kind of baggage, that’s kept him from reaching out, from trying to get close to anyone.

She still doesn’t kick him out. Instead, she tells him about her own childhood, about how distant parents had turned into divorced ones and how the strained tension hadn’t left just because they were no longer in the house yelling at one another. She tells him the struggles she’s had at work, at having to write whatever the paper deems as “black issues,” and the double edged sword that comes with wanting to write universal stories, and also wanting to take those black stories for fear no one else will write them with as much care and nuance. She explains how unlucky in love she’s been, how her thoughts are dismissed because men think she’s too pretty or how her well-earned independence is far too independent for them to see her seriously. It makes her more real to him, and Barry ponders how quickly one could fall in love.

They talk, until the sun does rise over Iris's window sill. And Barry rolls onto his back to pull her atop him, fingering into her until she’s dripping down his wrist. He sheathes himself and pushes himself into her, wet hands holding onto her hips as she takes over, grinding down onto him until they’re both a simpering, moaning mess, soaked and sated. After, Iris cuddles on top of him again, her mouth against his throat as she tells him, “of course, we’ll go out later,” when he whispers the question into hair.

They fall asleep to the still quietly falling snow.

Won't you bury me in your quiet love, oh bury me in your quiet love, bury me in your quiet love, and we will blow away.

#westallen fanfiction #Barry Allen #iris west

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