#don’t make me pick between pining or domesticity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sandersgrey · 2 years

Text

A Study in Greys

Eventual Kit/Ty Endgame, Mutual Pining, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Psychological Trauma, Kit Rook Has ADHD, Kit Rook has C-PTSD.

First / Second / Third / Fourth / Fifth / Prev. Fic also available on ao3.

Wordcount: 6k.

A/N: Huge thanks to everyone who commented and gave me the motivation to finally finish the chapter. As always, shout out to @thechangeling for being a very supportive friend and not killing me for the hiatus, and @jynxlovesluck for being the amazing partner and beta they've been this entire time. I could not do it without you. At the very least, I could not do it this well. TW for a bit of unconscious self harm right at the beginning, and for a lot of conflict between characters, including brief fear of domestic violence that doesn't come to pass. (Not a lot of physical injuries, though. Not... yet.)

Seventh Chapter: The Ghost At The Feast

“Absolutely fucking not.”

With her arms crossed and that snarl, Livy would be any horror director’s first pick. Ty could feature in it, too; he’s pretty enough to be the star cast in marble in the dusty light of the room, his silence heavy. He hasn’t spoken in five minutes.

Kit would have liked to say he’s been handling this tension with all the poise and resilience of a Herondale. It’s true if you know a Herondale’s bad habits. He’s bit down so hard on the inside of his cheek that the thin rope of badly-healed skin split open again, coating his tongue with a taste of iron.

He’s never been good at arguing with people he actually likes. It’s his biggest flaw.

Still. No better time to learn than the present. Draping a shaky arm over his knee, Kit risks a grin: “Are you sure?”

Livvy’s stare grows unimpressed:

“We’re not using you as bait.”

“Why not?” Kit asks. “I’d be really good at it.”

Ty’s frown deepens. He’s been incessantly tapping the ground since the idea first came up, faster the longer it went on. It’s honestly a little insulting. Kit might not be the best with a dagger, but he can figure out a social situation better than anyone in this room, alive or dead, that’s for sure. He resents the worry.

“No,” says Ty.

Livvy emphatically gestures at him. “Yes, thank you, Ty. It’s a terrible idea.”

“Eh, is it?”

“Kit, we’re not risking you getting hurt.” she sighs.

That gets a snort out of him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m already at risk. I’ve been at risk since the beginning. The safest option- for everyone- is to shut down their entire operation as soon as we possibly can, or did you forget about their whole Puppet King idea?”

“That doesn’t mean we should put you at more risk!” Ty blurts out.

“I think that’s really up to me, isn’t it? We’re-” - sitting on top of a time bomb, waiting for it to explode- “ risking more the more we wait. Someone might figure out we know; I’d be really fucking surprised if they don’t already suspect you, and I’d really rather not figure out how subtler the next assassination attempt is gonna be, okay?”

Ty presses his thumb against the center of his palm, massaging the muscle. Stress tightens his shoulders into boulders- it makes Kit feel a little bad, honestly. He doesn’t mean this to be anxiety inducing to anyone else.

Rolling his tongue against the open wound in his mouth, Kit waits.

The mortar between the stones, at least, is easy pickings for a clever enough hand. He digs his nails into it and wonders how long it’d take to bring the whole castle down in itself. Longer than he has. He picks at it anyway.

“It’s too big a risk,” Ty says at last. “I won’t be able to get to you fast enough if you’re caught.”

Shaking his head impatiently, Kit says:

“Look, I can do it, alright? It’s like ten, fifteen minutes, tops, and then we’re home free. I know I fumbled it- I know I should’ve realized what they wanted sooner, but I’m not completely incompetent. I can handle some manipulative idiots.”

A tilted head. Confusion briefly crosses Ty’s expression, resolving itself into something unreadable. His clever fingers grip the hem of Kit’s jeans until the fabric stretches, near painfully, over his bruised knee. Kit doesn’t flinch. He can’t.

“It’s not about whether you could do it. You shouldn’t have to.”

Kit shrugs. “I shouldn’t have to do a lot of things.”

“What does that mean?”

Right. He sighs, more disappointed in himself than on anyone else, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his pointer and thumb. No more cryptic bullshit: Ty doesn’t play mind games.

But, as he opens his mouth… Kit finds himself stuck. He pauses, wondering, and closes it back again. What does that mean? Does it mean anything?

For some reason, what comes to mind is this: his ten years old self, the Market, and a pocketful of stolen wallets. Then: his fifteen years old self, the Market, and a pocketful of strange ingredients. The way he had felt stuck back then, too. The way he’d felt useful.

Ty’s attention tastes like iron. It feels like it, too.

“I just want-” Kit swallows. His exhale cracks, brittle. “I don’t know. I guess I can’t go home.”

He picks at a loose thread in his jeans, wrapping it around his finger until it turns his skin swollen, a purple protest. Lets go. Once, twice, a third time, relieving the pressure just before it bursts. Ty says:

“You could go.”

It hits like a wave of nausea. Kit squeezes his eyes shut, dizzy with it.

A familiar tempo, discarded like a dirty coat on the ground. There’s nothing to say. The thread digs into his knuckles, a bright spot of pain in the darkness, and Kit holds onto it.

“What we mean ,’ says Livvy, in a meaningful tone of voice, “is that it’s a really fucked up situation that you don’t need to stay in. We’re not saying we don’t want you around.”

“Of course we’re not,” Ty says, a little perplexed. His elegant fingers twitch towards Kit’s own.

Kit can’t help it: he laughs. God. How like Ty to utterly destroy him without even meaning to. Dragging a hand over his face, he presses the palm against the orbit of his skull until he could map the bones by feel alone and asks, tired:

“What even for?”

It’s nearly comforting how baffled Ty’s “What for?” sounds, like he can’t even figure out why they’d need a reason at all. Ty pauses, his grip on Kit’s jeans tightening. “Just because, I guess.”

Just because.

It’s not anything. It’s just a sentence. Kit lets his hand fall on his lap, exhausted, the strength of Ty’s earnest expression a little too heavy to bear. It’s no good. Kit can’t deal with that right now.

“I-”

His phone rings.

The sudden trrrrrrrr makes Ty wince back, his entire face scrunching up in pain.

Scrambling, Kit paws at his pocket, frantically mumbling sorry sorry sorry until sweat-slicked fingers manage to get a grip, pressing against the screen harder than they usually need to. He hangs up.

Ty rubs a thumb against the palm of his other hand, self-soothing. “Who was that?”

“It says Nessie”, Livvy observes from over Kit’s shoulders. He sighs, mourns his privacy, explains:

“A friend from Devon.”

“You’re not going to call back?”

A grimace. Kit gently kicks at Ty’s thigh until he gets the memo and lets his foot go. Pulling his knees up, Kit rests his chin in his arms, just a little bit colder, and says:

“Nah, all my friends at home are mad at me. I’m going to wait til the dust settles.”

Ty frowns, the perfect line of his jaw tightening, but Livvy tilts her head and a few of her hair strands no-clip into the wall. It never looks quite right. Kit holds back a shudder.

She asks:

“Why are they mad at you?”

He sucks air in through his teeth. “Well, Lizzie and Mari are mad because I left with Zach, which makes sense. He was a dick to them. Nessie is mad, because…” Wincing, Kit raises a shoulder in a how to put this? way. “Well, because I’m here.”

Ty shifts his weight to lean closer, staring down at the thread around Kit’s finger until Kit lets go of it, shame-faced. “What do you mean?”

The awkward position strains at the seams of Ty’s right sleeve, the sculpted, lean shape of his arm tensing to keep him upright. There’s deceptive strength there. It had felt like a steel bar across Kit’s chest when Ty had caught him.

Someone pointedly clears their throat:

“Could it be,” entones Livvy, “because you left? Did you even tell her you were coming here?”

The tiniest flicker of a flinch in Ty’s hand. Kit tightens the reins on his own gaze, tips his chin up at Livvy, half-lidded and scornful:

“How would you want me to explain this to her? Sorry, I can’t hang out this week, I’m too busy scheming? Would you mind putting our plans on hold while I uncover a conspiracy I can’t tell you about?”

“If that's the truth,” says Ty. Kit scoffs:

“She would’ve wanted to come.”

“Then let her.”

“Yeah, that sounds like such a great idea,” Kit sneers, then pauses, chagrined. Adds: “That’s sarcasm. Nessie is a vampire. Letting her come would probably be the most efficient way to get her fucking killed. It’s too dangerous. No , thank you.”

Ty says, aggrieved:

“Then tell her that.”

“Yeah? Have you told Alyssa?”

A pause. “How do you know about her?”

Kit looks away, dragging his feet across the floor. He hadn’t meant to say that.

(Dust rises through Livvy’s form. She shakes herself off, impatient, and floats a little away when that previsibly fails to do anything. Like this, they can barely see her.)

“You’re not hiding it as well as you think you are,” he says. “Not everyone thinks you’ve cut off all contact.”

“Ragnor wouldn’t tell.”

“You’re right, he wouldn't. He didn’t need to, anyway. Harry noticed you’ve been sneaking off.”

“Like you do? You haven’t been all that careful either,” Livvy points out.

Shrugging, Kit leans back against the wall as casually as possible. He tips his chin up, allows a leg to extend, and keeps a very tight lid on his voice as he says:

“Sure. The difference is that people suspect Ty’s ‘consorting with the enemy’ because he’s openly done it before,” like an idiot, Kit doesn’t say. “They think I’m having an affair because that’s the fun and exciting thing to believe.”

Ty pauses. “They think you-”

“There’s no proof, obviously, but that doesn’t matter. It makes sense. You should’ve given them a hint of a scandal, Ty… It would’ve worked better than silence.”

Shoving the (quite helpful, honestly) suggestion away with a gesture, Ty frowns:

“They think you’re having an affair… with me ?”

Livvy turns to the wall, concealing her laugh with a cough. Briefly, but fervidly, Kit wishes for the ability to banish a spirit.

“Sorry”, Kit says. “I know I’m not your type, but I figured it’d be safer than them realizing we’re colluding. It gets the message across now that they know they can’t just kill you off openly. Heather had a moment-”

“The poltergeist.”

Kit nods. “I know you noticed. Me insisting on going with you is what sealed it, I think. Now she’s at least going to be a little subtler about it- make sure it can’t be tracked back to her.” A pause, then: “You should be careful.”

“You should have told me.”

“I knew you already knew you were in danger, Ty.”

Ty drags himself into an upright position, jaw tight with the kind of defensiveness Kit usually saw in him around Julian. His dark brows are furrowed. They cast a shadow upon his eyes.

“I didn’t know about this ,” Ty snaps. “I’m glad you trust my intelligence, but I can’t just guess what you want, Kit. I can’t just know what you’re thinking. You need to tell me things.”

He bristles. “You didn't tell me anything until last night either!”

“I didn’t know you wanted to hear it.”

“Of course I do!”

“Kit”, Ty says, “I didn’t know. Of course I didn't tell you. The last time we’d seen each other you said you didn’t know when you’d forgive me, and then you show up here, years later, dating one of the people who are trying to kill me. I knew you were after something, but fuck if I knew exactly what-”

“I had to do that! I had to date him, how the fuck else was I gonna get here-”

He bites down, but it’s too late.

Dread filling his chest cavity with something far too cold and heavy to name, he watches, scared even to blink, as the blood drains from Ty’s face. There is something devastating about the delicate pink of Ty’s mouth trembling, the dark brows creasing his marble-perfect skin into the kind of expression that would send Kit to his knees if he could move at all.

Kit watches, and fears, and regrets only that he misspoke.

Slowly, Ty says: “You’re using him.”

The tone is very nearly casual. It’s the phrasing that sends a jolt of ice into his stomach. Kit lowers his head, sinking his teeth hard onto the inside of his cheek, and waits.

“That’s why it didn’t fit. That’s why you felt so off around him. You knew he was a centurion; you knew he could bring you here, so you… instead of doing anything else, you…”

“He was insulting my friends in a downworlder restaurant. He wanted a fight.” The voice out of his mouth is nearly unrecognizable. “Ty, he was a threat. I was unarmed.”

“And now?”

Hands into fists. Sharp nails.

“He’s still a threat. This is my best weapon.”

“So you lied to him.”

Kit raises his head, heated. “We just found out that they sent him as bait on purpose, so what does it matter? That’s what I was meant to do!”

“You didn’t know that back then!”

“I knew he was a racist piece of shit who would love a chance to kill all my friends,” he says. “I knew things were going wrong here and I knew that you’d know that, but- I couldn’t just stand there! I couldn’t just hope you’d be fine!”

That pale throat moves as Ty swallows, his face a blank canvas- Kit could project anything on it, anything and nothing at all. His mouth moves:

“You said you didn’t forgive me.”

“I don’t.”

“ When,” bites out Ty, “will you start making any fucking sense?”

Kit throws up his hands, careless of the dust:

“Well, fuck me, Ty, I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“Why are you here?” Ty immediately lists. “Why would you put yourself through all that trouble for someone you’ve said you don’t forgive? Why would you send the necklace? Why would you send the book ?”

Bashful, Kit says: “So you know about the book.”

“Of course I know about the book. There aren’t that many people who would anonymously send me a special edition of Sherlock Holmes. It was either you or Ragnor Fell.”

“Ragnor doesn’t do presents.”

“Yes. I know.”

Kit runs a hand through his hair, tugging just enough to feel it under his skin. “I don’t forgive you,” he says. “Fuck. That doesn’t mean I don’t…”

“You don’t?”

A strangled, frustrated noise, deep in Kit’s throat:

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

“Oh, you never forget anything”, says Kit, bitterly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you dig hard enough. It was a big day for you.”

From behind the dust, Livvy says: “Don’t talk in riddles.”

His amygdala screams. Feeling a little like he’s buzzing, Kit cradles the elbow he’d thrown against the wall and considers, not for the first time, the very few weapons the living have against the dead.

“ Fuck, Livvy, you scared me!”

“Boo”, she says flatly. “Shouldn’t have forgotten I’m here.”

“ Say something next time, Jesus-”

“I did-”

Movement in his periphery startles Kit back into his guard. Ty has taken a step forward, his delicate fingers hovering over Kit’s hold- too afraid to touch and overstep? The darkness of his brows have furrowed further, worried:

“You’re hurt.”

Kit shakes his head, softening. “It’s fine. I was just startled.”

Finally resolving himself, Ty lays a gentle hand on top of Kit’s. His skin is dry and bitingly cold, the tips of his fingers and parts of his palms hard with calluses, his grip loving. Kit clenches down on the shudder before it starts.

“If you weren’t fine,” says Ty slowly, “would you tell me?”

No. Kit wants to lean back against the wall, wrestle himself back into the shape of someone who doesn’t care about it, but he can’t risk Ty moving away. He stands still. “Does it matter?”

“ Yes.”

“I came here because you were in trouble,” Kit says, because that , at least, is easy. “I sent you the book because I thought you might like it.”

Something about Ty’s mouth softens. “I do.”

“Good.”

“I still don’t get it, though.”

He shakes his head:

“I can’t explain.” Please. “Don’t make me.”

Ty’s hold on his arm tightens, sinking nearly deep enough into his flesh to be satisfying, before Ty lets go. “Fine,” he bites out. It doesn’t feel good.

Hardly anything does, these days.

“I have to go back before anyone gets suspicious. We should put the plan in motion tonight- it’ll only get harder the longer we wait, alright?”

Alarm and frustration rise with Ty’s head: “Kit, no- you should at least have a weapon-”

“I’ll come with you,” Livvy interrupts. Both boys stop in their tracks. “It’s been a while”, she explains, confronted with Ty’s surprise. “Promise I won’t read over your shoulder, Kit.”

It’s a lie.

Kit lets her tag along anyway.

It’s not so bad at first. Livvy hums, some unfamiliar melody that echoes strangely in the stone corridors. Sound carries. Kit can imagine the notes floating down, down, down into the lived spaces where the enemy lies. He nearly tells her to be quieter before he remembers. If no one else can hear it, does it even make a sound?

Her white dress flutters to a wind that isn't there. Her hair is as still as the grave, irradiating a cold spot big enough to envelop Kit in its gelid embrace.

It’s never good to spend too much time around ghosts. You’ll forget how to be warm.

Her legs curl under her as Livvy leans forward, unbothered by gravity:

“He’s right, you know. You really should have something to fight with if you’re going through this.”

Didn’t help you, he doesn’t say. “I guess.”

Kit’s never liked swords much. They always make him feel like he’s pretending to be the storybook hero he just isn’t, but, besides the gun, they’re still what he’s best with. Getting close enough to use a dagger isn’t exactly his favored position.

And things are not nearly bad enough for the gun. He hopes, at least.

He’ll just stand behind Zach around his little posse. Idiot or not, he could make a good body shield. The shame churning inside his stomach isn’t relevant.

Livvy hums. “I’ve been thinking a lot about when we met.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s been three years…” and I haven’t changed since, her frown says. She catches him looking. “Kind of weird to be nostalgic for that, right? Everything was so awful.”

“I get nostalgic about that, too. Sometimes. I think it’s just human nature.”

That makes her smile. It’s a thin one, nearly invisible against the backdrop of the stone wall. “Back then,” she says, “did you already know?”

Kit sighs, resigned.

“Know what?”

“That you’re in love with my brother.”

This time, he manages to avoid his elbow making contact with the wall- Kit still curses, unnerved, and turns to her with about the same urgency of a spy who just heard his co-conspirator sneeze mid-infiltration:

“Don’t say that!”

Livvy straightens herself up, unimpressed: “If I can’t say it and you won’t, what’s the plan there? Morse code?”

“I’m not saying shit, and you better not fucking tattle.”

“Yeah, I got that . That’s why I’m asking about the plan,” she drawls. “I don’t think you’re the type to keep Zach as your pet centurion after this is over, but then again, I didn’t think you’d do it at all. Where did you learn how to honeypot?”

Sighing, he gently butts his head against the closest wall. Wishes for brain damage. Then starts walking again:

“I’m a good improviser.”

“I guess,” says Livvy, doubtful.

“And there’s no plan,” he adds. “ I’m going to get this over with, make sure Ty’s okay, and- I don’t know, go home, probably, if my friends aren’t waiting outside with torches and pitchforks… Livvy?”

She’s only a step or two behind him. Her expression is dark.

“So you’re leaving him again.”

“It’s not leaving him”, Kit scoffs. “What, did you want me to move in permanently? I should be going home soon anyway . Didn’t you guys just say I could go?”

“That’s different.”

“ How?”

“You’re not leaving because it’s dangerous,” she accuses. “You’re leaving because you’re a coward. You’re too afraid to be around him.”

There is, he thinks, something deeply wrong with his heart. “ And ?”

“You can’t do that to Ty. Not again.”

Kit scoffs, and turns to keep walking.

Temperature shock stops him in his tracks as Livvy emerges from his body and plants herself in his way, a dangerous glint in her eyes . His body shakes. The hallway behind her nearly fades from view.

Silver-green eyes.

“Christopher, you’re my friend,” her voice is like velvet. “But if you break his heart again, I’m going to make your life a living hell.”

It gives him a second of pause. Mostly, to assess the damage. It’s not so bad- he’ll stop trembling, but his body doesn’t know it yet. That’s always the hardest part.

“I didn’t break his heart a first time,” he finally says. “It’s not like that.”

“You didn’t see him then. Kit, he was-”

“Yeah, because the thing with you didn’t work. I bet he was fucked up about it, but it was never about me. ”

Livvy crosses her arms, stubborn as a mule and just as strong. “He needs you.”

“Sure,” Kit says, “like a thief needs a crowbar. But I’ve taught him about picking locks. He’ll be fine.”

“Could you, for just a fucking second, pretend like I know what I’m saying about my own twin brother and listen ?” Livvy snarls.

A half mocking sweep of the arm: “Go ahead.”

“He does need you, Kit. Not just to help solve this situation. He was devastated when you left- I’ve never seen him quite like that before, not once, and it wasn’t just because of me. I know you don’t want to believe it, but he lov-”

“No.”

“Kit!”

“Don’t you dare stand there and tell me that. I don’t want to hear it.”

She makes a deeply frustrated noise in the back of her throat: “Why not?!”

“Because,” Kit grits out, “it’s not fucking true.”

“But-”

“I told him, okay?” Kit snaps. “I told him, back then, and it changed nothing. I was never anything more than- than a shiny new toy, someone he could drag around and have fun with. It was never about me , Livvy, it was about the first guy his age who wasn’t either related to him or a piece of shit, and good for him!! I’m glad I could help for a bit! But I can’t- I can’t- I can’t let myself believe it means anything again. Livvy, you’re my friend, too, but let’s not pretend you wouldn’t bleed me like a pig if it would make Ty even slightly happier. I can’t do it, okay? I don’t have anything else to give.”

Livvy tries: “I wouldn’t-”

“You’re doing it right now,” says Kit. “You’re even doing it to yourself. Are you happy like this , Livvy? Really? Or are you just sticking around because you think that’s what Ty needs?”

The ghost says: “Fuck you.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not even the one who dragged you back up.”

A sneer:

“You didn’t stop him.”

Kit lunges.

Something is deeply, deeply wrong.

It takes a small eternity. The fingers of his right hand cramp with the bone-deep certainty of the cold, but he sets his jaw, ignoring the oppressing pressure of Livvy’s presence grasping at him with much more force than a non-corporeal being should have any right to. She’s dead . She can’t keep him. That’s not how it works- that’s not what happens, and Kit shoulders through.

When he emerges, shivering, her eyes are as wide as plates.

She opens her mouth- Kit snarls, something primal taking over- and she snaps it shut with an expression of deep resentment.

Wordlessly, she turns her back and leaves.

And he’s the coward?

It takes him a long time to stop shaking. It’s not even the cold; it’s the fragile, flimsy way it’d made him feel, like ice ready to shatter. The pain is nearly welcome compared to that.

Distantly, Kit thinks his phone vibrates a few times while he gets himself together. It’s such a far off worry it barely registers until he can breathe again, uncurling himself from a fetal-like position next to the wall. God. With numb fingers, he clicks on his messages.

Jem. Jem, and an answer.

Not much, Kit thinks, could make him smile right now. This does.

It’s not a nice smile. It’s not a nice smile, but it’ll do.

He does get lost on the way back, though.

It’s fine. If you keep walking long enough, eventually you’ll get somewhere.

And, anyway, it’s not his fault every single hallway looks exactly the same. The Scholomance, Kit thinks, was designed by someone who thought labyrinthine was in fashion and so was bare, grey stone. You could drop a Minotaur at the center and it would not find a way out in seven years. It’d have to make itself wax wings. It’d have to drown.

At least it’s marginally warmer without any ghosts around. Raymond’s coat tail does briefly infringe upon his peace of mind, but the local spirit grimaces at him and disappears through a wall. Kit’s not even offended. He gets it.

He would also disappear through walls if he could. He’s done that once or twice, actually; it’s called climbing through windows.

Still. Ghosts do have an advantage in that field.

The window he’d nearly fallen through on his first day is, therefore, a welcoming sight. He has kind of some idea of how to get back from here.

“You’re really quite low, though,” Kit tells it. “That doesn’t seem safe.”

It doesn’t answer, which is good news.

The halls get less and less dusty as he goes on. His fingers stop leaving cleaner trails on the walls, gathering a thick layer of grime themselves. There’s a packet of tissues in his pocket, which means he can get most of it off, but seeing it there reminds him of Mina’s own sticky fingers, and it’s just- he misses home. He misses his family.

It’s better like this, though. If even shadowhunters are already trying to use him, they’re probably safer with him away. At least for now.

He wonders what his dad- what his first dad would say. Nothing good, probably. Nothing helpful.

What would his first mom say? Kit doesn’t know. She hadn’t stuck around long enough for him to be able to guess. Then again, maybe that’s an answer in and of itself. Maybe she’d agree with him.

Tessa wouldn’t. Kit sighs, shoving cleaner hands into his pockets.

“Herondale?”

“ Fuck ,” he groans.

The centurion, sword fortunately sheathed at her hip, raises a judgemental eyebrow. “Hello. I was unaware there were any cremations here today.”

He’s taken aback for a second before he realizes that the dust coating his jeans is peeling off, leaving a gray, grimy trail on the ground. Maddening. It’s stone, who the fuck cares- she should be at home with dust by now, old as their fucking traditions are, no chance centurions lower themselves to do spring cleaning.

None of that leaves his mouth. Instead, he smiles blankly and says: “Can I help you?”

Looking a lot like she wants nothing more than to correct him on the proper usage of can versus may , the centurion replies “No, I don’t think you can. However ”, and, with a flourish, takes an envelope out of her pocket, “I believe I can help you. This was left with the rest of the mail this morning. We checked for traps.”

The reason is clear. There is no name on it besides his, not even an address at all, and none of the marks of a fire message. “And it came out negative?”

“ Obviously,” she rolls her eyes.

He takes the envelope. It’s immediately, nearly dropped.

What the fuck? Even to his numb fingers, the stiff paper is cold- much, much colder than it should be, nearly enough to burn. His hand cramps again; he fumbles with the envelope, catching it at the last second.

The centurion scoffs. “Jace Herondale is alive and well, I presume? We all wish him a fruitful marriage.”

Envelope forgotten, Kit tucks it into an inner pocket and straightens up:

“Thanks. Virginia Whitecastle, was it?” Same patrol shifts as Zach. Which means he’s off duty right now, and yet was not the one to bring him the letter. Fuck shit damnit. “How’s your brother? Still hasn’t been sent out?”

Her upper lip curls. Bingo.

“He’s too important to be on the field,” she blusters.

“Oh, I bet. Don’t worry. I’m sure your brother is very, uh… integral to the cause, somehow. What’s he called again?... “

Whitecastle’s face is a silent mask of fury. “Shut it, H- Carstairs. I’m not here for chit chatting. Some of us are working, you know- you may want to check your correspondence yourself from now on.”

“Of course”, Kit says sweetly. “Thanks again for taking the time. I know your family is very busy.”

Her hand twitches toward the pommel of her sword; Kit tips his chin up, daring her. It twitches again, but she moves it away, her jaw set.

“You’re welcome,” she grits out.

Her tightly wound retreat, it must be said, is a sight for sore eyes.

Zach’s door looks the same as it has always been, which is to say: better than a lot of people.

The doorknob is a beautiful round mirror, as silver as mercury. Kit can never get himself to grip it right away- it always feels like he’s going to dirty it, somehow. Even the wood itself is shiny. The zipper on this hoodie, Kit knows, is rusted.

Eventually, you do have to face the music. The smooth surface of the doorknob feels judgmental.

“Christopher.”

Of course.

Zach is waiting for him on the bed.

Much like the door, he is- hatefully well groomed. Shoulders squared, hair carefully combed to a solid geometric shape, uniform precisely creased. His shoes shine so bright Kit starts automatically planning how to steal them.

When Zach’s eyes flick up to meet his, they’re shadowed by a deep scowl.

The only saving grace is that his sword has been carefully laid out on the dresser, out of arm’s reach. He’s not optimistic enough about human nature to assume Zach did it on purpose.

Resentfully, Kit allows the door behind him to slam shut with a bang. Zach winces. Good. Kit hopes he broke his precious door.

“It’s been an hour,” Zach informs him briskly.

“I’m sorry,” snaps Kit, “was I being timed?”

Thin lips purl like an asshole. “You know that’s not the point, Christopher. I can’t keep covering for your shenanigans. It’s not easy, people have already seen you chasing after ghosts like a madman-”

“You wanted a Herondale,” says Kit. “Don’t complain now that you’ve got one.”

“It’s not about that; I can’t keep protecting you.”

Halfway through hanging up his jacket, Kit pauses. “ Protecting me?”, he softly repeats.

Zach grimaces and turns his hands palm up in the air, pacifying: “Look, you know I think you belong here. You’re a shadowhunter too. But some people think- you weren’t raised as one of us, you didn’t drink from the cup, you don’t even live with other shadowhunters…”

“Jem was a Silent Brother. Tessa-”

“-is a warlock”, says Zach, “and Carstairs is retired, which isn’t supposed to happen. Face it. Your entire family is an outlier.”

Kit tugs the worn denim back onto his shoulders, its weight unnaturally light without the anchor of Oliver’s dagger. A muscle twitches in Zach’s jaw. His big hands flex, ripple the fabric of his gloves, but nothing else moves- still the perfect statue of a centurion. Raymond would be proud.

“And?”

“You can’t let them have leverage”, Zach emphasizes. “There are some concessions you get from being Jace Herondale’s cousin, but once people stop thinking you’re fun, they’ll- you’ll lose all privileges. Stop hanging out with the Blackthorn. He’s a ticking bomb.”

In a velvet tone, Kit says: “Would you like to elaborate on that?”

“Stop getting mad at me. I’m the one who should be angry- you’re making people think I’m a cuckold!”

“I haven’t done shit. It’s not my fault your kind doesn’t understand the concept of friendship. And, anyway, cuckold ? What the fuck kinda word choice is that? We’re not married, Zacharias.”

Zach says: “ Is it friendship, though? He has your fucking necklace.”

“It might be a little too complex for your little shadowhunter brain to understand,” Kit sneers, “But outside of this death trap of a cult, some of us manage to have meaningful friendships without having to have our skin burned about it.”

“You can’t possibly be comparing that to parabatai.”

The very idea is repugnant. Still- “I’m sorry, were you there for me when my dad fucking kicked it?”

“You haven’t talked in years!”

“As far as you know,” Kit scoffs.

“Why does it have to be fucking Tiberius Blackthorn, anyway? Can’t you pick literally anyone else?”

Kit takes a step closer. His hand grips the back of a chair, nails biting into the wood. “Oh? Would you like to explain to me why Ty is such a bad choice, then?”

Wisely, Zach stays silent.

“C’mon, now, don’t be shy. Tell me exactly what your thought process was on that one.”

“See?” Zach blurts out, glaring. “You’re even defending him now!”

It’s hard not to laugh at that. Kit doesn’t even try. “I never said I didn’t care. I’d like to believe I wouldn’t go for such an obvious lie, dollface.”

“You’re in love with him.”

Wood creaks. “ Don’t,” Kit bites out, “ ever say that again, or I swear, Zacharias Cross, I will end you.”

“You couldn’t. I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking, anyway.”

Carefully easing his death grip on the back of the chair, Kit puts forward a smile. “Oh, I love hearing gossip. Do go ahead.”

Stupidly, he does. “The Blackthorn’s family is half changeling already, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Tiberius were one of them, too. You know that. I don’t care how many privileges he gets because he’s the Unseelie King’s in law, the only one allowed headphones in the training room-”

“It’s not a privilege. He needs them.”

Zach makes a dismissive noise. “That’s what he wants you to think. The precious little Blackthorn- Ragnor Fell nearly bites off the head of anyone who dislikes him, it’s pathetic. You can’t expect people not to assume anyone who wants to be around that has ulterior reasons. You can’t expect them not to want to balance the scales a little.”

“I see.” Kit does. “Those people your friends?”

“Maybe. Maybe so.”

Kit allows the smile he can feel tugging at his mouth. Judging by Zach’s expression, he doesn’t find it very reassuring. What a shame.

“They actually tell you what they plan to do with their ulterior motives, or do you just do whatever the fuck they say and hope it works for the best?”

“Don’t- it’s fine, okay? They’re mad right now, but it’ll just blow over. I just need you to keep your head down.”

The bark of laughter startles both of them.

Kit leans into it, throwing his head back, until the hysteria bubbling up inside of him has left his stomach empty. He bares his teeth:

“Really? You think I can just keep my head down and everything will be fine ?”

“Sure. You’re a shadowhunter- you’re a Herondale. We’ll be fine. Just- just need to be careful, right now, just need you to stop acting like a Market rat, and then everything will be alright. It’s not like this shit will last forever.”

That’s hilarious. Laughter punches Kit’s throat, but he presses his lips together, grinning. The expression on Zach’s face nearly sends him right back into a fit. God. He should be spending more time around Zach, he really should; this is fucking priceless.

“Zach”, Kit manages, “They tried to kill you.”

A flinch. The smooth planes of Zach’s forehead scrunch up into mountain ranges, his confusion palpable. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Heather sent you to a famously shadowhunter-killing poltergeist in your uniform .”

“I mean, I know she wanted Ty to die-”

Now that’s new. Kit takes in a sharp inhale, reeling. “You knew?”

“It wasn’t subtle, of course I fucking knew. I knew as soon as Mayhew told me about the assignment- That’s why I volunteered. We don’t have enough centurions to be wasting them out of grudges; I knew you’d be acting up again, and I could handle it, anyway.”

“Aww. Could you?” A hysterical grin stretches Kit’s mouth a little too wide. He can see it in Zach, clear as day; the curl of his upper lip, the unnerved twist of his fingers against the bed, leaning away from him. “You were a second away from being minced meat when I saw you.”

“I had it under control-”

“She gave you physical weapon s to fight a ghost .”

“It worked the first time!”

Kit leans against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “You know, I did wonder about that. How could a poltergeist have turned up in Devon without me knowing about it? I have been dealing with those things for years.”

Zach’s eyes dart from him to the door and back, a cornered animal. Broad fingers twitch restlessly. His weapon is still laid out of immediate reach, an useless tool this far from home. Kit bets he’s regretting it now.

“Unless, of course, there was no poltergeist. Not really.”

“There was,” Zach immediately protests, “They wouldn’t-”

Kit drops the smile, face turning to stone. It makes Zach take a sharp inhale.

“They wouldn’t- what? Lie to you about it? You just admitted to believing they’re at least attempted murderers. Tell me, Zach. Did anything even happen when you walked into that first ‘haunted’ house?”

Silence. His lips twitch upwards.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“That makes no sense,” says Zach, empty.

A carefully casual shrug. Kit’s hand finds the doorknob behind his back, curling around the key ring. “Face it, Zach”, he says. “Your entire social circle is a death cult."

"You're lying. You’ve always hated them- of course you're lying! You want to keep me away from them so you can have your way with Blackthorn! Well, fuck that shit, I’m not falling for that!" Zach stands up, a head taller, two heads wider. Kit's back touches the perfect door:

"Alright. You’ve done me a favor, Cross, so I’ll do you one better. If they don't think you're disposable, if you feel like they actually care about you- then why don’t they know you're only second gen?"

Mid-step, Zach freezes.

"How do you-"

"Your surname was the first clue. Cross isn’t really a shadowhunter name, is it?” Kit says. “You guys like to pretend you’re not painfully Christian where it matters. Now, Zacharias- that’s a good, respectable name for a shadowhunter, if a little overused. I never understood the urge to recycle all the same names.”

“Kit…”

“You have my dad to thank for yours, you know? Jem oversaw your mother's Ascent. Sarah- the real poltergeist- that’s what made me think about it, because why wouldn’t you accept at least a little disguise, unless you’re overcompensating- but he’s the one who really confirmed it for me,” Kit adds, pleased. “That's the thing about him being a retired Silent Brother; he can actually talk , now. You'd be surprised just how much ."

Unlike some, Zach doesn’t look good that pale. It just makes him look unwell.

"You can't tell them. Please."

Kit can't help it: he coos, as sweet and cloying as honey. "Aww, what's wrong, Cross? Do you not trust your friends to stick by you?" He clicks his tongue. "Afraid to find out how little they really care? You can't escape that, you know. No matter how fast you run, you’ll always just be- their tool . You’re not even that important, you know? They were talking about replacing you."

Zach’s hand closes around the pommel.

Kit lurches back, twisting the doorknob, and the cold air of the hallway hits his back like a physical wall- Zach's eyes widen in horror; he takes one, two, three quick steps forward- Kit slams the door shut on his face-

And, at the end of his last shred of self control, Kit does what he does best.

He runs.

#alex wont shut up #alex's arty: writing #tda #tsc #sobh #twp #kit herondale #kit x ty #ty blackthorn #livvy blackthorn #zach au #a study in greys #blood tw #self harm tw

46 notes · View notes

devotedtomarvel · 1 year

Text

I'm doing it again!!! Limited Time Harry Potter Requests!!!

Soooo here's the rules dudes, dudettes and everyone else -

Pick one from each category (ship, trope and location) and any extra requests for your fic and either drop in in a private message or a comment on the post! All of the fics will be posted on my ao3 and I'll post on tumblr, tagging you as soon as I've posted it. Because I'm back at school in a couple weeks, I can't really give a time frame of how long it will take for me to write it but I'll aim for about a week. The fics won't be incredibly long (3000 words +) unless I get super inspired!

Now for the ships!

Drarry (Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter)

Wolfstar (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin)

Dramione (Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy)

Ronmione (Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley)

Jily (James Potter/Lily Evans)

Snarry (Harry Potter/Severus Snape)

Hinny? (Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter)

Jegulus (James Potter/Regulus Black)

Snamione? (Hermione Granger/Severus Snape)

Hermione Granger/Harry Potter (couldn't think of a ship name so make your own 😂)

Remione (Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin)

If there are any other ships you want for a fic other than the list, just drop me a message and I'll see whether I can do it!

The tropes -

Any AU (Give as many details as you can in the request!)

Getting together

Domestic Fluff

Friends to lovers

Enemies to lovers

Only one bed (I had to include it!)

Hurt/Comfort

Established relationship (If you don’t say that its a getting together fic, I’ll assume that its established relationship anyway)

Mutual pining

Letter writing (as in, the fic’s in the form of letters between one another)

Enemies to friends to lovers

Omega verse

Pregnancy

My level of spice (as in, not a lot but as far as I’m willing to go with your specific story)

I know that some of these tropes aren’t to some people’s taste, and I am open to other suggestions, like I said with my ship list. However, if something that you want makes me uncomfortable writing and posting, I will message you and let you know that I am uncomfortable with writing that, and you can choose another trope!

The Locations -

The Forbidden Forest

The Gryffindor Common Room

The Slytherin Common Room

Third Floor Girls Bathroom (Moaning Myrtle’s Bathroom)

Number 12 Grimmauld Place

Privet Drive

Classrooms (whichever one is appropriate)

Teacher’s office (again, whichever one is appropriate)

Again, I'm open to more suggestions in requests, because I want to be able to write things specifically for you and I want you to enjoy it! If you want a fic to actually happen in Draco Malfoy's walk in closet, I'll try my hardest to write that for you!

I'm hoping to do more of these little request things in the future, with more specific themes, so look out for them after this one!

Deadline - 24.9.23

#ao3 writer #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fanfiction #ao3fic #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #drarry #remione #requests #prompts #fanfic tropes #drinny #snarry #jily #wolfstar

11 notes · View notes

waywardxrhea · 5 months

Text

Chapter 8 - Strawberry Mentos

What happens when you lie to the Devil? How long can one woman keep a lifetime of secrets from the Devil of Hell's Kitchen? The answer may surprise you...

installment list

pairing: Matt Murdock x enhanced!fem!OC

series content: coffee shop AU, fluff, humor, friends to lovers, pining, language, canon typical violence, angst, drinking, implied smut, medical emergencies, mental health disorders (PTSD, panic disorder).

"you started eating my favorite candy, you buy a pack in every store you're in, stocking up on strawberry mentos so when you kiss me it'll taste like them" / "i've been searching for someone like you my whole life, so i pick up black licorice in every candy isle, and even though i hate the taste of it, i know that when i kiss you it'll make you smile" - strawberry mentos, leanna firestone

word count: 2k

A taste of domestic life with Matt: implied smut, Josie's, fluff, a little bit of angst.

One night a few weeks later Crystal headed over to Matt’s place to meet him before going to Josie’s with Marci, Foggy, and Karen. After knocking on the door, she was greeted by one of Matt’s usual charming smiles as he opened the door. “Well don’t you look dashing?” Crystal asked as she took in Matt’s look of a dark red tie, grey slacks, and white button-up.

“Oh it’s nothing special, we just got out of court,” he told her.

“Well I think you look fantastic,” she replied, her arms settling on his shoulders as she leaned up to kiss him.

After a few moments, Matt pulled away from the kiss, his head tilting to the side a bit as he ran his tongue over his lips, asking, “Dark chocolate? I thought you hated dark chocolate.”

Crystal felt her heart flutter at the statement and heat rising to her cheeks as she replied bashfully, “Well I know that you like it a lot, so I went out and bought a bag of that organic dark chocolate you like so that…” She paused for a moment before shaking her head as she said, “Well now it sounds daft saying it out loud…”

Matt ran two of his knuckles gently across Crystal’s jaw, his gaze nearly landing on hers before he said, “Go on, you don’t have to be embarrassed around me, sweetheart.”

She took a quick breath and ensured that no one else was in the hallway before telling him, “Well I just thought that…with your senses and all that you would like the taste of it when you kiss me… It’s silly, I know, but-”

She was cut off abruptly though as Matt leaned in for another kiss, pulling her into the darkened entryway and shutting the door behind her. After a few more heated moments of kissing, Matt pulled away, resting his forehead on Crystal’s before mumbling, “That is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

As Matt leaned back in for another far more heated kiss, he began running his hands over her body, pulling her hips into him as she wrapped one leg around his, trying to get their bodies as close as possible to ease the building tension between her thighs. Between kisses, Matt managed to get out, “Berry lip gloss? And a silk blouse? You’re practically begging me to fuck you against this door right now sweetheart…”

“Maybe that was the plan for later,” she whispered before running her hands over his muscular chest and shoulders.

“Well I think later’s going to have to come right now,” he told her, his hands already fidgeting with the waistband of her pants.

“What about Josie’s?” Crystal whispered as his hands began skillfully undoing the button and zipper of her jeans.

“It can wait,” he told her as he started peppering kisses down her jaw and neck.

A little over an hour later, Matt and Crystal finally showed up at Josie’s, Matt’s hand around Crystal’s arm to feign her guiding him without his cane. “It’s about time you two finally showed up, what took so long?” Foggy shouted from across the bar as he saluted them with a beer. “Actually, I probably don’t wanna know.”

“Don’t ask and we won’t tell,” Matt said with a wide smile gracing his lips, a look of mischief behind his dark red lenses.

“Well I for one am asking,” Marci said, a smirk making its way onto her lips. “So I’ll ask you again, Miss London girl, what’s the difference between the British and New York men?”

“Let’s just say there’s less left to the imagination here…” Crystal replied with a laugh before she took off to order herself and Matt a drink.

When she returned and gave Matt his drink, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders after opening his beer. Across the table, Foggy smiled at them before saying, “You know, I’m glad you two finally sucked it up and got together.”

“It was only a matter of time,” Matt told him with a quiet laugh, then took a sip from his beer.

“Oh no it wasn’t, you had a crush on her for months before you made a move, Murdock!” Karen countered, disbelief in her voice at his statement.

“What finally happened that made you ask, Matt?” Marci asked curiously before taking a sip of her drink.

Crystal’s heart stuttered in her chest at the question, knowing that Marci didn’t know about his late night persona, much less hers, unlike Foggy and Karen. She threw a quick glance in Matt’s direction and saw him loosen his tie with one hand before replying, “It was after we went to karaoke at Stardust.”

“But didn’t she go home with Raeyes that night?” Marci asked, one eyebrow raising into her forehead.

“Matt walked with them home, remember Marc?” Foggy asked.

“Probably not, we all had a lot of wine that night,” Karen said with a laugh.

Crystal leaned into Matt’s embrace a little more as she smiled and asked, “Didn’t you think there was a reason I chose the song I did?”

A look of skepticism crossed Marci’s face for a moment before she finally said gleefully, “I knew it! I knew that’s why you chose that song!”

“Guilty,” Crystal replied with a quiet laugh. “I just didn’t know how to approach the situation so…”

“Well I say it was perfect,” Matt said, kissing the top of her head before the six of them began engaging in conversation for the evening.

After a few drinks and good conversation, Crystal and Matt began to make their way back to his place when all of a sudden a storm rolled in with loud thunder echoing off the tall buildings and rain pouring down hard. Crystal saw the way Matt cringed at the volume of the thunder, so she grabbed his hand and said, “Come on, let’s get you back to your flat, it’s no good for you out here right now.” Matt nodded in response and the two took off at a faster speed down the sidewalk until they finally emerged into the dry sanctuary of Matt’s building.

As the two of them got into the flat, Matt offered Crystal some of his clothes to change into since hers got thoroughly soaked on the walk back. When she got changed and re-emerged into the sitting area, she saw Matt standing by the window, the bright light from the sign outside illuminating his face as he said, “Well if there was any chance of going out on patrol tonight that’s out the window now…”

“Too loud?” Crystal asked softly as she gently ran her hands over Matt’s arms to try and soothe the tension in his now exposed muscles.

Matt nodded. “Usually if it’s just raining I’m fine to go out, but with this downpour and the thunder, it’s just…a lot. Too hard to tune out what’s not important.”

“I get that,” she said while wrapping her arms around him and hugging him from behind. “It’s hard for me out in this weather too. Everything gets super unpredictable and hard to control so I usually don’t bother on nights like tonight.”

“So then it sounds like we’re staying in,” Matt said as Crystal released him from her embrace.

“I can make those brownies you like,” she offered.

“That would be nice. It’ll give me something more soothing to concentrate on until this storm passes,” Matt said, a quick smile ghosting across his lips as he placed his glasses on the kitchen counter.

While Crystal baked and sang softly to music playing from her phone Matt came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms, lazily kissing her neck which brought a smile to her lips as she sighed contentedly and relaxed into his embrace for a few moments. “You know, I’ve always meant to ask where you learned to bake,” Matt mumbled into her skin between kisses.

“Oh, cooking and baking were always how Mum and I spent quality time together. My father and brother avoided the kitchen like the plague, so it was like our special place,” she told him, her eyes closing momentarily as she tried to stop the tears from falling. “Now it’s how I honour her memory.”

“That’s beautiful,” Matt told her. “I think Foggy and I will forever be indebted to her for making you such an amazing cook,” he added with a chuckle.

“You flatter me, Matty,” Crystal told him with a bashful laugh before finally putting the brownies into the oven to bake.

Hours later, after both Matt and Crystal had finally managed to fall asleep as the storm raged on, Crystal felt Matt’s strong arms tighten their hold around her waist as he slept. The firm hold made her slowly open her eyes and once she was beginning to become more awake, she heard Matt quietly mumbling what sounded like, “Please don’t leave.”

Crinkling her eyebrows in confusion and concern, Crystal managed to wiggle around to face Matt and saw a tear escape his eye. Her heart broke for him as she gently wiped away the tears and whispered, “Matty, wake up, love. You’re having a nightmare…”

Slowly, Matt began to stir awake. When he finally woke, he mumbled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“Hey, don’t apologize, I was just worried,” she whispered, gently running a hand through his messy hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Matt was quiet for a moment before finally nodding. “Remember how I told you about the whole situation with Stick and Elektra? How they were part of a secret organization made to take down the Hand?” Crystal nodded, so Matt continued, “Well what I haven’t told you is that when we were fighting the Hand originally she uh…she got killed. Died in my arms.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Matt…” Crystal whispered, her heart aching for him. She wanted to say more and tell him that she knows exactly what he went through and tell him that she still has nightmares about the same situation too. She held her tongue instead though, because he still didn’t know how Kit died and she didn’t intend on letting any one of her friends here know that nasty truth…

“It’s okay, they brought her back. She definitely wasn’t the same after, but…” He sighed and shook his head. “Point is, in the nightmare, at first it was Elektra in my arms dying but then as she took her last breath I heard your voice. It ended up being you who died in my arms instead of her and…” Matt’s eyebrows creased in the middle before he shook his head and added, “But then you got up and left. Said you never wanted to see me again and that you were better off without me.”

“Oh Matt…” Crystal whispered before taking his hand in hers and kissing his scarred knuckles gently. “Matt, you’re the best thing about my life and I don’t intend on leaving any time soon as long as you’ll have me. Just know that no matter what has happened in the past or what you may do in the future, I’m here for you and it’s going to take a hell of a lot to get rid of me. Got it?”

Matt’s unseeing eyes concentrated on the left side of her chest for a few moments, a habit she started to pick up on that meant he was listening to her heart to know if she was being sincere or not. After a few seconds of silence, a smile ghosted its way onto Matt’s lips as he said, “Thank you, Crys. I guess some days I just need the reassurance…”

“And I’ll be happy to provide whenever you need it, because I have no intention of leaving any time soon, Murdock,” she told him before gently placing a kiss on his lips. While getting to know Matt more as they grew closer as a couple, Crystal figured out that the man has severe abandonment issues because of his past, and ever since figuring that out, she’s made sure to put a conscious effort into assuring him he knows how much she cares for him and that he knows she isn’t going anywhere.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he replied before pulling her close as they both attempted to drift off into slumber once more.

next chapter

#daredevil #daredevil x oc #matt murdock #matt murdock x oc #fanfic #short fanfic #marvel #romance #friends to lovers #coffee shop au

3 notes · View notes

kyupidos · 1 year

Text

07/??/23’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

when he loves youヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘they acknowledge their love for you, so of course, they tell you.’

characters. scarabia : kalim al-asim , jamil viper ( separate ) ;; romantic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is yuu, confession time, pre-relationship, romantic fluff

📡 _a/n. currently experimenting w my layout, hope y’all like it, i’m reformatting my other post to make it look the same as this one :3

kalim

— let’s start with how all relationships start, with a confession. or, the realization that you both like each other, at least.

— i think it’s 50/50 as to who may confess first, but i like to think it would be kalim. granted, it may take some time to realize it’s a confession since he’s affectionate with everyone, but you’ll get there. eventually!

— something tells me that when he confesses, it’s like the cliche under-a-cherry-blossom-tree sort of confession, but also not.

— there’s a few clumsy mistakes, and for some reason the first that comes to mind is that he ends up being late to his own confession, because he was busy with being so excited about the whole ordeal that he couldn’t sleep the night before.

— however, not to worry, because he makes it just before you think it was a prank or that you got stood up ( even though he was the one to invite you )!

— when he does make it he more or less looks like he’s out of breath and on the verge of falling to the ground because of how far he ran, but no matter, because he manages to get the words out anyway.

“i’ve been looking for the perfect way to tell you this, but i’m going to put it bluntly..i love you!”

— something like that. no way for there to be any miscommunication or misunderstanding, just his feelings, right there for you to hear. and then should you accept, he breathes a sigh of relief that his feelings are reciprocated.

— and now that all is said and done.. it’s party time!! kalim wasn’t sure if you would accept or not, but just in case you would, he wanted to prepare the party to celebrate such a joyous occasion! and you did!

— on the off chance that you’re not type to enjoy parties then.. pay no heed to kalim nervously shooing away everyone he hired for the party to make sure you’re comfortable, and just bask in the fact that now, you can officially call him your boyfriend.

jamil

— of course, a relationship with jamil will start with a confession too. but it’ll be a little different when it comes to him.

— and by that i mean, there is no 50/50, because he is the type to pine because he thinks there’s no chance a relationship will start between you two. so you’ll be the one to confess this time.

— it’ll be slow, a confession to a man like jamil isn’t something to be rushed, but it’ll happen i assure you. confessions like these shouldn’t be fast-paced and forced, but slow and natural.

— thankfully, this time, you have a helping hand to figure out the perfect confession; kalim! well, he helps as much as possible, but of course, it’ll be hard even with his help. he still gives you great advice though!

— the way i envision a confession to jamil..i’d say you’d be cooking with him, to help out with one of kalim’s parties, and it’s calm and has a domestic feel to it. i think this is a popular scenario when it comes to jamil but there’s a reason for it!

— that, of course, is when you would have to confess to him. maybe bring it up casually, in a blunt manner, no beating around the bush. but he’ll pick it up anyway, and when he does, he’ll be flustered yes, and his breathing will halt just for a split second. but he’ll find it in himself to muster up a response even so.

“ah..you love me you say..? well, then, i guess i should say that i’ve felt the same way for quite some time now.”

— actually, he might have a bit of difficulty to give you a proper response. but don’t worry, even if me messes up, and even if he ends up struggling with his words, he’ll be sure to let you know that he really does accept your confession.

— before either of you know it, you’ve already finished with whatever you may have been making, and the food has been plated. time certainly does fly when you’re confessing your love to someone, doesn’t it?

— and if you’re wondering why there’s a light giggling in the background, don’t worry about it. kalim’s just very happy that he successfully helped you confess to jamil, is all. but don’t fret, he knows to leave you two alone.

#(๑^⤙^๑). . approved!#kyupidos #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twst x gender neutral reader #twst headcanons #twst scarabia #scarabia #twst book 4 #twst jamil #twst kalim #jamil x yuu #kalim x yuu #jamil x reader #kalim x reader #jamil x gn reader #kalim x gn reader

90 notes · View notes

6-paris-6 · 2 years

Text

This or That? tropes edition

Thank you @camptriplepine for tagging me! I feel involved now

slow burn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt-comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut or fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or middle aged romance // time travel or isolated together // neighbours or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or gender bend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

#I couldn’t pick between mutual pining or domestic bliss #I love when the pining turns into domestic bliss like they have to make up for lost time or something #the love at first sight pick probably reflects that #doesn’t help that I didn’t pick slow burn though #the amount of shows I watch with crappy endings so I read fix-its to cope is insane #so shoutout to the people who write those for me so I don’t get that upset #until I inevitably watch the show again #the accidental marriage trope is just funny to me #I’m also on a Stranger Things Steddie binge so that’s the reason behind the kid fic pick #I’m going to stop because this is getting out of hand and I shouldn’t have creative control over the hashtags #rose <3 #there #now we match #the one I stand by the most is the enemies to lovers

6 notes · View notes

workofheart · 4 years

Text

jean kirstein relationship hcs

sorry for the inactivity lately y’all school is whooping my ass </3 in the mean time, have some modern jean relationship hcs bc i miss him

protective boyfriend #1 ♡ ♡ ♡ will not hesitate to yell at ppl if they’re mean or rude to you, he doesn’t want anyone coming near you like that. thinks his partner deserves the absolute best and will not tolerate people disrespecting you or even thinking of disrespecting you. he will defend you til the day he dies, even if it embarrasses you

asks the waiter for a new dinner when yours is undercooked and you’re too nervous to say something. if you’re a person w social anxiety or just don’t feel like doing something, he would do things for you no problem, whether its fetching you something, paying for you, ordering for you, etc. he’s not gonna tease you or make fun of you, he’s just happy to help

he’s a sappy drunk :’) when he’s hammered, he gets all clingy and drags you onto the couch to cuddle w you/hangs off of you while you walk home and tells you all about how he feels about you and how he wants to spend his life with you and have dogs and a cute home forever. has the cutest little giggle while literally pouring out his feelings for you

and if you bring it up in the morning, you KNOW he’s gonna get so shy and red like “oh... i said that? haha...”

his biggest dream is just domesticity with you - like i mentioned, living somewhere beautiful in a nice house with a beautiful family or just you and him :( he really cherishes you and just dreams about spending his life with you. his “happy place” is very likely just the two of you sitting in a field by a river on a sunny day, maybe with some sandwiches and sparkling water, with all the time in the world watching ducks swim by

i imagine that you were previously friends before starting to date, but he’d been seriously pining for you since the beginning, just never wanted to make you uncomfortable and was too scared to say anything. he’d go home after hanging out w you and just sigh (probably yell into his pillow in frustration too but shh) bc he just felt like if it wasn’t you, then who else?

meanwhile you’re being so obvious that you like him back but he keeps reasoning that you’re just being nice and wouldn’t actually want him like that

was ready to settle for friendship and just lock away his feelings when you just pulled him aside and confessed directly. he was a strangely confused yet happy daze for the following weeks

is a sucker for romance movies - likes imagining him and you in those scenarios, romanticizes your own relationship shamelessly. i feel like he’d enjoy 500 days of summer and... wait for it... clueless. I KNOW. it’s his guilty pleasure. also consider: he bawled his eyes out at the end of la la land.

loves beach dates! loves the beach, loves the boardwalk, loves everything about that summer atmosphere. waits in line to get you funnel cake and then you sit and eat, people watching and making up stories for everyone that passes by and just laughing while you enjoy the fresh summer air. in the arcades, totally the type to win himself a cute plushie but when ur like “omg!! is that for me?” he goes oh yeah haha.. but don’t think he doesn’t notice when you’ve been eyeing up a specific toy at the ring toss stand. he will not hesitate to play game after game until he gets it for you.

lover of back hugs. he is so generous, literally towers over you no matter ur height, just wraps his arms around u and holds u <3 it makes you feel so safe and loved and that’s all he wants for you

carries you wherever possible. up the stairs, down the stairs, from the kitchen to the living room and back. he always boasts about how easy it is to pick you up bc he’s strong and it boosts his confidence lol

constantly tells you how pretty he thinks you are. jean always thinks you look beautiful so he always compliments your outfits and your hair and your makeup, leans into ur ear to whisper it to u and make u giggle even when it’s just the two of you at home

on that note: always gets caught staring at you and he blushes so easily when you call him out for it. can’t stop looking at you over the top of his newspaper when you’re having breakfast in the morning, can’t stop looking at you while you’re making dinner for him, can’t stop looking at you while you work or study

for valentines/your birthday/holidays he always makes you cute handmade cards out of colored construction paper. he finds a new design every single time and spends so long on it, and finishes by writing out how he feels on the inside. can u just imagine him sitting at his desk, tongue poking out of his mouth with a glue stick in hand as he lays down different colored paper hearts :(

teases you nonstop. always poking fun at you, probably make jokes about how “irresistible” he is and how you can’t keep away lol, thinks you look adorable when you’re flustered

u give him haircuts when it’s getting long, he sits on a stool in ur bathroom and u just give him a trim every once in a while. trusts you not to fuck it up (not that you ever would) and it always comes out so nice and it makes his heart swell just to have you there to do such intimate, sort of domestic things for him.

pet names! i know so many people have talked about this but it’s just so true. has tried everything in the book to see what you like, watches carefully to see how you respond so he knows, occasionally calls you something silly like “pookie” just to get a reaction out of you

needs verbal communication. jean always has so much on his plate and has a lot of insecurities, so he really needs that reassurance that you need him and love him every day until he can accept it for himself

favorite position to sleep in is him on his back with your head on that area between his neck and shoulder, holds you really close during the night. loves loves loves when you nestle into him and cling to him for warmth when you’re asleep. has trouble sleeping if you aren’t there

dotes on you so much seriously he is so sweet and caring, just so whipped for you. he is literally so weak and always gives into you just bc it makes you happy. you want to drive out for mcdonald’s at two in the morning for an apple pie and a shake? he’s getting his keys rn

nsfw below the cut (18+)

i think mostly everyone is in agreement that jean is a total pleasure dom - he spends all night getting you to cum again and again, always asking if you can give him one more

as mentioned earlier, teases. avoids giving you what you want at first, makes you use your words, and when when you do get it, you’re getting it. aka, overstim galore. he’s not stopping until you’re spent

so much dirty talk, asks so many questions to get you to talk. “louder for me, princess” type of guy. wants to reduce you to babbling with how good he makes you feel - the sounds you make get him so incredibly hard

he is also vocal bc he knows you like it. groans his name into your ear just to feel you clench, then laughs.

never forgets to mark you up, leaves hickeys all over your neck and chest and thighs. loves to look at them later on when you’re changing, and especially loves your reaction to seeing them for yourself

size kink!! this man is almost 6’3 so chances are he’s gonna be bigger than you regardless. likes being close to you, likes being in positions where he can see you, probably has an arm slung around your waist or back whenever the position allows for it so he can hold you close

pins your arms down, holds your hips to the bed so you just have to sink into the mattress and take it

every time he aims to fuck your brains out and make sure the only thing you’re thinking about is him and how good he makes you feel

his fingers are fucking magical, dear lord, he gets you so worked up and knows just how to touch you to make you squirm, loves seeing you go hazy and unravel on his fingers. his fingers are so long and gentle and stretch you out so nice + he knows exactly what to do, where to touch you, when to change his motions to get you there in minutes

needs to be kissing you when he makes you cum. swallows your moans, adores how you struggle to kiss him back with the pleasure he’s giving you

mirror sex is top tier for him, probably has one of those siding door closets w mirrors next to his bed so he can make you look at yourself and watch just what he’s doing to you

eye contact, will 100% grab your jaw to make you look at him, loves seeing you stare up at him through glassy eyes

literal KING of aftercare. takes such good care of you, gets you anything and everything you need, cleans up so well, gives you the world and more

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein fluff #jean kirstein fanfic #jean x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein hcs #jean kirstein headcanons #aot hcs #aot headcanons #aot x reader #aot fluff #jean kirstein smut

1K notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Sorry for your loss - Final Chapter

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction pining, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, domestic Wanda, hurtful behaviors.

Chapter Warnings: Mention of Smut, Brief Smut.

Tag list: @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @imapotatao // @aimezvousbrahms / @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia // @myperfectlovepoem

Author’s note: I don't know what to say exactly, just good reading, and sorry for any spelling/translation errors. I hope you enjoy the ending, and who knows, maybe a second season?

Read on AO3 || Serie Masterlist here

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chapter Five - I will love again

You were up early on the weekend.

Since you were going to travel to New Jersey for Wanda's father's wedding anniversary, you didn't want to keep her waiting.

When you arrived at Wanda's house, she was already on her feet, running back and forth through the house, trying to find Tommy's lost toy, who kept crying that he wouldn't travel without it.

"Make yourself at home, I just need to find that bear." She said to you as she opened the door. You placed your only luggage on the floor as you looked around. Billy was watching television, and Tommy was sitting on the kitchen counter, crying.

You walked over to him.

"Hey, Tommy, why are you crying?" You asked stopping beside him, keeping your voice calm so as not to make him more nervous.

"I want my teddy bear!" He cried out between tears.

"Mommy will find it for you." You reply. "What is the name of your teddy bear?"

"Star Lord." Sniffles the boy. Your distraction is working, because he stops crying to talk.

"Wow, that's an incredible name!" You say. "How did you get the Star Lord?"

Tommy sniffles again, wiping his tears with his forearm.

"I got it for my birthday." He counters. "Billy got a skateboard, but Star Lord is cooler."

"Is that so?" You retort with interest in your voice, realizing that Tommy was barefoot and his socks were on the countertop, you show him that you are interested in hearing him talk as you help him finish getting dressed for the trip.

"Yes, it came in a huge, red box." Tommy counted with a smile as he gestured at the size of the object. "And he sleeps with me every night, so I need him to go to Grandpa's house."

"Oh, yes, of course you do." You agree with a smile as you tie the boy's shoelaces. "Do you remember the last place you played with Star Lord?"

Tommy sniffles thoughtfully.

"I don't know." He replies tearfully, you rush to ask about his favorite memory with the bear to avoid him to cry again, and it works.

When you finish tying the child's shoes, you pick him up on your lap as he tells you about the day he took Star Lord swimming, and then you sit him down in the living room next to his brother, and he is distracted enough by the cartoon on the TV to forget about the teddy bear.

Wanda joins you in the living room a minute later, looking nervous and with her hands empty.

"Hey, I think I have an idea." You tell her as you mentally review the things Tommy said. "Finish getting them to the car, I'll go find the bear."

You found it.

Ten minutes after you left the room, inside the pool.

Wanda couldn't hold back her laughter when you arrived in front of the car with your wet clothes up to pool height.

"Your idea was to get into the pool instead of using the cleaner to reach the bear?" She teased as soon as you handed her the toy. You laughed awkwardly, watching her give the bear to Tommy and seeing the boy celebrate excitedly. "You're not getting in my car wet like that."

You laugh, and then you have an idea. Approaching Wanda with open arms, you see her raise her finger in warning, but you are already hugging her with wet clothes, making her laugh.

The joke only ends because Pietro is parking the car in front of the house next, looking at you both curiously.

"Should I let dad know we're going to be late?" He teases putting his sunglasses up. You let go of Wanda as both of your giggles slowly stop, the two of you looking like children who have been caught up to mischief. "Come on girls, we have a road ahead of us."

"Shut up Pietro." Wanda grumbled humorously, starting to push you into the house by the shoulders. "Watch the boys while we get changed."

"Yes, ma'am." He retorted wryly as he took off his seat belt and got out of the car. You let Wanda push you inside.

Upstairs, you had smiles on your faces as she searched for clothes that would fit you.

"Are you sure it isn't better if I grab something I brought in my suitcase?" You ask distractedly as Wanda rummages through the closets.

"I don't want you to be one change of clothes short, I don't know what we'll end up doing over there." Wanda retorted. "And don't worry about it."

Wanda eventually handed you a set of very soft sweatshirts and underwear. You smiled in appreciation, looking away from the clothes in your hand to the woman in front of you.

As you turned toward the bathroom, Wanda spoke.

"You can stay."

Swallowing dryly, and ignoring the unregulated beating of your heart you turned to her again, one eyebrow raised not sure you had understood correctly.

Wanda sighed heavily, as if she was gathering the courage to say it again. But her gaze said it all. She was inviting you to change in front of her.

You felt your face heat up, but you gulped dryly, forcing yourself to reason correctly.

"I... I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Wanda retorted in defiance, and you let out a breathless laugh. She seemed to misunderstand your reaction, because her expression immediately fell. "Oh, you don't want to. Damn it, I..."

"What?" you interrupted quickly. "No, Wanda. I want to." You confess half breathlessly. "I really do."

"Oh."

You shift your weight between your feet, feeling your stomach turn with the way Wanda looks at you.

"But not like this." You say, swallowing dryly to confess correctly. You approach Wanda slowly as you speak. "Not in a hurry." Wanda breathes heavily, leaning back against the cabinet. You stop walking just inches from her body. "I want to be with you, with enough time to kiss every inch of your skin.” You confess again her lips. “Touch every spot that will make you lose control and scream my name."

"Fuck." Wanda gasped against your mouth, almost near enough to touch while closing her eyes.

Ignoring the tightening sensation at the tip of your stomach, you fought your baser instincts and pulled away, sighing.

"Let's hurry before your brother comes to get us."

You smiled at Wanda, ignoring the urge to kiss her. She just nodded, trying to normalize her breathing. You took advantage of her lack of reaction to turn around and walk towards the bathroom. You had better get out of there soon, because you feel that you couldn't resist that woman again.

//-//

Tommy and Billy were singing in the back seat as you drove to New Jersey. You laughed at the scene, thinking they were adorable.

Your gaze was watchful on the road, following Pietro's car to his father's house.

When Wanda began to murmur the song, you looked at her for a moment. Absolutely stunning, with her red hair flying in the wind, the smile in the corner on her lips. The sunlight making her eyes sparkle.

Turning your attention forward because Wanda caught you looking, you bit back a smile, feeling your heart race a little. But neither of you commented, and you didn't care that Wanda was looking at you now.

//-//

When you arrived, you whistled impressed at Erik's residence. It was practically a mansion, but really it was just a very well built summer house. The neighborhood was very nice too. Wanda smiled playfully at you when she noticed your reaction.

The boys ran out of the car, excited to hug their grandfather who was already waiting for them at the door. They also hugged Charles, who was a short, balding man, very friendly.

"Grandpa, can we go ride the horses?" Tommy asked excitedly, and the man laughed lightly.

"Go wash your hands and get something to eat first okay, boy?" Erik said to the boy, ruffling his hair.

The child agreed, entering the house along with his brother and his cousin, who had gotten out of the cars shortly after.

You were unpacking the bags from the car after parking and felt your breath catch when Wanda picked up one of the bags and caressed your hand with her fingers as you handed it to her. She smiled innocently, passing you to walk toward the door, and you cleared your throat before closing the trunk and following her.

"You must be Y/N." Erik greeted you as soon as you came to the door. "It's very nice to finally meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, Erik." You replied with a smile. "And you too, Charles."

The man smiled, giving you room to pass him and enter the house. Wanda was standing in the living room next to Pietro and Monica, who had their suitcases on the floor.

"Papa, which rooms are empty?" She asked the man who had entered behind you.

"You can occupy any one upstairs." Erik warned closing the door as he and Charles entered.

You accompanied the group upstairs. Wanda placed the boys' backpacks in one of the bunk rooms, since the children always slept together.

"You can have the room down the hall." She said, showing you the direction. "Next to mine."

She whispered the last part like a secret. You wanted to ignore how your stomach churned at the suggestion. Pietro and Monica passed you both, the man gave you a playful look, but made no comment. They would be in the room across from yours and next to the children's.

You guessed that the other door at the other end of the hall belonged to Erik and Charles

After putting your suitcase on the bed, you left the room. Pietro opened the door at the same moment.

"Come on, Y/N, I'm going to give you a full tour of the Maximoff residence." He announced excitedly and you giggled, following him around the house.

//-//

The Maximoff residence was much larger than you thought it was. There were even stables and a large wooded area that was part of the place, but Pietro didn't take you there, he just pointed you in the direction. You eventually discovered that the place used to be a simple farm, inherited from Pietro and Wanda's paternal grandparents, and when Erik married Charles, they renovated the place with money from the Xavier family, who were British and had a fortune built up in the vineyard area.

Pietro led you back to the kitchen when he finished showing you the property, patting you on the shoulder as he sat down on the kitchen counter, grabbing the jar of candy on the counter.

"The guests will be here soon, Pietro, get down from there." Warned Erik noticing his son's position. He was in the kitchen too, finishing sorting out some of the appetizers. During the tour, you noticed the decorations set up in the gardens, some tables and chairs and party decorations.

"Yes, papa." Grumbled Pietro as he obeyed. He reached over to accept the tray of food his father handed him.

"Take that outside please." Erik asked and you moved to get out of the way of Pietro, who gave you a wry smile as he passed, making you laugh slightly.

"Can I help too?" You asked noticing that there were still things to be carried.

"Thank you, dear, you are very kind." Erik said as he handed you one of the trays. You nodded and then turned around.

The garden was really nicely decorated, you noticed now that you were up close, placing your tray on one of the tables. There was also a small stage, which you imagined was meant for Erik and Charles to repeat their wedding vows. You smiled, remembering how your marriage to Natasha had gone. It was just nostalgic to think of her now, and it didn't make you unhappy anymore.

"I think you're all set now." Erik said behind you, arriving with a tray and placing it on the table next to yours. Pietro who had left earlier, was stealing one of the candies and received a disapproving look from his father. "Really, boy?"

Pietro laughed, raising his hands in surrender.

"I'm hungry, papa." He playfully retorted and you laughed at the interaction.

"Go help the ladies with the kids." Erik commands with a grimace, and Pietro laughs as he walks away. When he leaves, you feel slightly anxious about being alone with Wanda's father, but his posture is friendly. "I haven't had a chance to talk to you properly, Y/N. Would you like to take a walk with me before the party?"

You ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach when you agree. And Erik takes one last look at the decorations before leading the way.

//-//

A few minutes of walking later, where Erik asked you several questions about your life, your job, your age, who you lived with, that sort of thing, you reached a plantation area. You imagined it to be the vineyards of the property.

You could see the manor house in the distance, and the backyards, and a lake many meters away. The landscape was breathtaking.

"It's beautiful here." You comment beside him.

"Yes." Erik agrees with a smile, also looking at the scenery as you do. "I enjoyed your conversation, you are as lovely as Wanda usually tells us."

The comment makes your cheeks warm, the image of Wanda talking about you makes your heart soar. Erik seems to appreciate the way you react to it, smiling gently as he adds, "It's nice to know she's found someone nice to love."

You swallow dryly, glancing quickly at the man next to you, but he has his gaze on the landscape. You feel a warmth in your chest, mixed with embarrassment and happiness.

"Thank you, Erik." You say clumsily.

"For what?"

"For accepting me here I guess." You retort with a smile. "For having me into your home. And well, for saying those things about me and Wanda." You say and he makes an understanding noise through his mouth. You are silent for a moment, until he speaks again.

"You know, when Magda, their mother, passed away, I thought I would never love anyone again.." Erik tells nostalgically. He keeps looking at the field in front of you, but you stare at him, attentive to his words. "But then I met Charles. And well, it did. It's different from what it was before. And I wouldn't change it for anything."

You nodded in understanding, letting the words echo in your head. You also think about how Agatha said you could move on. There was no problem in loving again, as intensely as before.

"I figured I'd be uncomfortable talking about someone marrying my daughter, but here we are." Erik comments humorously a moment later, making you chuckle awkwardly. "I guess it must be the way you look at her. You look like a lovesick puppy. "

You scratch your neck awkwardly, looking at the scenery, making Erik laugh at your blurriness.

"Don't get upset, I'm just teasing you." He comments with a smile, patting you on the back. You laugh clumsily.

"Do you guys have a garden around here?" You ask trying to change the subject, just as you notice the glass structures in the distance, capped by the vineyard. You figured if you turned around you would find your way to them.

"Oh, yes." Erik confirms. "Charles loves gardening. We have two greenhouses over that way. Would you like to see them?"

"Yes." You confirm with a smile. "But it can be after the party."

"Oh yes, I should get back and welcome the guests." Erik agrees as he checks his watch. You start walking back to the area of the house next.

//-//

You meet a lot of people at the party. It's a little overwhelming, because you really didn't expect Erik to invite so many people, and although you're glad that they had so many friends, your anxiety has increased a little. You were smiling politely at two ladies who said they were Charles' college friends while trying to pay attention to the story they were telling when Pietro rescued you.

"I need to steal my sister-in-law for a second ladies." He said and you widened your eyes. He only realized the mistake of his words when he noticed the looks on the women's faces in front of him. " Shit, I don’t mean like she got married to Wanda... I..."

You snuck out from behind Pietro when the ladies started attacking him with questions about the wedding, and when the ceremony had taken place and why the family wasn't called. You took the opportunity to escape when Pietro was convincing the ladies that you were not Wanda's wife, and that there was no secret wedding.

Walking over to one of the far tables, you frown in disbelief as you watch Luna run under the food table, clearly looking for a place to hide from her cousin, who is looking around a few feet away.

You crouch down, pulling the towel up to speak to the child.

"Luna, honey, maybe that's not the best place to play." You tell her with a smile. She looks around.

"Sorry, Aunt Y/N." She asks. "I'm hiding from Billy."

"Oh, is that so?" You ask extending your hand to her. She accepts, and you help her stand, taking care that she doesn't hit her head on the table. "Do you remember the path we took when we first got here? Try to hide behind that tall statue, I'm sure Billy won't find you."

"Wow, that's right, Auntie. Thank you." She mumbles, leaving with her head down next, watching for any sign of her cousin. You smiled, knowing that everyone at the party would get a glimpse of the children playing if she stood where you spoke.

You noticed that the two women who were talking to Pietro looked at you, and not wanting to be dragged back into that conversation, you made your way back to the house.

Bumping into Wanda on the way, you giggled.

"There you are." You remark.

"Where were you?" Wanda retorts with a mixture of curiosity and humor, noticing your "escape mode" posture.

"Well, apparently all of your father's friends like to meet everyone, so I've spent the last thirty minutes being introduced to everyone at the party."

Wanda gave a pout of pity.

"Sorry, dear." She says and you smile awkwardly, feeling your cheeks flush. "I'm looking for the boys, they need to change for the suits."

"I saw Billy in the gardens." You tell her as you gesture briefly in the direction. "I'll go find Tommy for you."

Wanda smiles, biting her lips. You nod but when you make mention of moving away, she holds your forearm and moves forward, depositing a kiss on your cheek.

"Thank you, sweetheart." She whispered, smiling mischievously at you before she turned away and left the kitchen. You bit your lip, feeling your heart racing. You didn't understand why Wanda was teasing you, but you weren't complaining.

//-//

Non Readers Pov

Wanda laughed affectionately when Billy launched himself onto her lap as soon as she found him in the backyard.

"Luna, dear, your mother is calling you too." Warned the red-haired woman to her niece who nodded turning toward the direction her aunt pointed.

"Mommy can I play after I change my clothes?" Asked the boy as the woman carried him back to the house.

"Of course honey, but you have to be careful, okay? You can't get your suit dirty."

Just before she reached the entrance, someone called her name, causing Wanda to turn her head curiously.

"Sweetie, I need to ask you something." It was Ruth Eisenhardt, a nasty distant cousin of Wanda's known for gossiping, and lots of it, about all her relatives. "I just heard from Aunt Susan that you are dating that pretty girl you brought over."

Wanda felt her face heat up, but kept her expression impassive. Before she could add anything else, the woman was speaking again.

"Of course we are all happy for you, but when I went to share the good news with Uncle Jeff, he said that Pietro had already denied this affair. Now I'm left not knowing if you're really going out with that beefcake."

Wanda let out an awkward giggle, frowning slightly at the way her cousin spoke.

"We're not exactly together, cousin." The redhead replied. "But that's not really your business."

Ruth grimaced in surprise, but then her expression changed to one of malice.

"You know, I'm just confirming it. Because after all, we don't have pretty things like that lying around in New Jersey."

Wanda clenched her jaw. Ruth was exactly the kind of girl who had a mania for taking what didn't belong to her.

"Cousin, don't flirt with her." Wanda said. "I'll only warn you this once."

Ruth giggled, surprised at the reaction. But Wanda didn't continue the subject, turning and continuing toward the entrance of the house.

"Mom what's flirt?" Billy asked next, drawing Wanda's attention away from her own not-so-pleasant thoughts about someone taking what was hers.

"It's a way adults talk, honey." Wanda explained, biting her lips thoughtfully briefly. "When they want to be more than friends."

"Like best friends?"

Wanda laughs briefly, denying it.

"No, Billy. Like lovers."

Billy makes a noise of agreement. "Why can't Aunt Ruth flirt with Aunt Y/N?"

Wanda sighs lightly, forcing a friendly expression so as not to confuse her son.

"She can."

"But you told her..."

"I know." Wanda interrupts with red cheeks. She takes a deep breath, smiling at her son. "Can I ask you something sweetie?" Billy nods in agreement. "If mommy started dating someone, would you be upset?"

Billy frowns, denying it.

"Mommy, you want to date Aunt Y/N don't you?"

Wanda's eyes widen in surprise.

"Where did that one come from?" she asked.

"You didn't like it when Aunt Ruth flirted with Daddy either, I remember Aunt Monica's birthday." He tells, and Wanda sighs slightly, remembering when she caught Ruth complimenting her husband as she ran her hands through her hair, and Wanda might have gotten a little carried away by accidentally flipping a wine glass in her cousin's lap. On the way home, when the twins asked, she said that she was upset with the way Ruth spoke to their father, and now Billy was able to understand everything. "And now you don't want Aunt Ruth to talk to Aunt Y/N like that." He concluded as if it was obvious. Wanda smiled as she went upstairs, careful not to trip on the steps with Billy on her lap. "Mommy, if you date Aunt Y/N will she move in with us?"

"I don't know dear." Wanda replied with a shy smile.

"If she lives with us, will you let her sleep in my room?"

Wanda laughed, looking at Billy curiously.

"And why is that?"

"Because she knows how to play dragon. And also tell fairy tales." He says counting on his fingers. "And she also helps Tommy with his headache, so she can sleep on our rug and when he wakes up at night, she helps him."

Wanda smiles fondly, shaking her head slightly.

"Those are very good reasons indeed." She says. "But I think Y/N would like to sleep in a bed, no? The floor is uncomfortable."

Billy looks thoughtful and Wanda laughs briefly as she sets him down on the floor, already inside his room. She helps him out of his clothes to put on his party suit that is already on the bed.

"I can sleep in your bed mommy, and then Aunt Y/N sleeps in mine next to Tommy so he won't be alone."

Wanda laughs again, denying with her head. She bends down to button her son's shirt.

"Tell you what. Y/N sleeps in my bed, and if Tommy feels bad, she goes up to his room, how's that sound?"

//-//

Reader pov

"I think it sounds amazing." You spoke as you entered the room, a mischievous smile on your lips. Wanda startled slightly, surprised that you arrived at that moment, but she smiled shyly as she looked at you before turning her attention back to her son.

"Yay, mommy!" Billy spoke excitedly. Wanda sat him down on the bed again, helping him put on his shoes. You guided Tommy gently by the shoulders to the bed, and as soon as he had a look at the suit he began to undress.

"I didn't know you were going to live with us, Aunt Y/N." Tommy comments as he removes his sneakers.

"I didn't know either." You retort, biting back a smile at the sight of Wanda's reddening cheeks. "I guess your mother forgot to invite me."

Wanda mumbles at you to shut up, making you smile.

"Mommy, you have to let Aunt Y/N know that she is going to live with us now." Billy said making you cross your arms, and turn to Wanda, joining in on the joke.

"Yes, Wanda! You need to let me know about these things." You say with false seriousness, and Wanda rolls her eyes in amusement, finishing putting on Billy's shoes and getting up to face you.

"Y/n, honey, you're going to move in with me when we get back home, okay?" Wanda asks in the same tone. You bite back a smile, ignoring how your heartbeat has quickened. You can't help but look at Wanda adoringly however, and her expression goes from playful to shy in microseconds.

"Okay, Wands. I'll love living with you." You say to her next, sounding slightly affected. The twins let out an exclamation of excitement, and break the bubble you are in. You clear your throat slightly as you turn your attention back to them, looking away from Wanda.

"Wow, you guys look great." You comment as you see the boys properly dressed next. The suits are very nice indeed.

"You can go back to the party, but be careful not to get your suits dirty. No playing in the dirt!" Wanda warns the boys, who are already running excitedly outside.

"Okay, I'll go get ready too." You say next, thinking to check your cell phone as well, since you haven't turned it on since you left New York. "See you at the party?"

Wanda nods in agreement and you turn to leave.

At the door she stops you, pulling you by the forearm lightly and raising her hand to your neck, then bringing your lips together.

You both sigh and you feel your whole body tense up and heat up all at once. Wanda pulls away in the next moment, breathing as out of rhythm as you do.

You want to ask her why she did this now, but you think the question can wait until later, because she brings your lips together again, in a kiss far less innocent than before. Wanda closes the door with one hand, and with the other she pushes you against the wood.

You gasp, letting your tongue run across her lip, and she gives you passage.

Her taste intoxicates your senses quickly, your hands moving up to her waist as hers move to your hair, deepening the kiss. You both gasp for air against each other's mouths, unable to separate.

Panting, you feel your head spin as Wanda moves her tongue against yours, slow and sensual, and you can't help but squeeze her waist tightly, enjoying the feeling of her sighing against your lips.

You switch positions next moment, pressing Wanda against the wood of the door, your knee coming up between her legs.

"Oh." Wanda moans breathlessly breaking the kiss. You move your kisses down her jaw to her neck, sucking on the skin and releasing just before marking. Your fingers play with the hem of her blouse, and Wanda brings your head up, kissing you again.

You press your body against her, wanting her to be touching you everywhere. The sensation makes you breathless, and hot in all the right places, causing you to moan.

You think you could kiss Wanda forever if she'd let you. The feeling of having her in your mouth is the best you have ever felt.

There are noises of footsteps coming from the stairs, and you both sigh when you hear them. It's Monica coming up with Luna, who is chatting animatedly. It's just what you need to snap back to reality, and slow down the kiss.

You keep your foreheads together, and your hands around Wanda until the sound becomes distant, signaling that Monica has entered their bedroom with Luna.

You let out a giggle, and Wanda follows you. You look just like two teenage girls making out in secret. When you stop laughing, you kiss her again. Calmer this time. Before you let go, she bites your lip, tugging lightly, and making you gasp before letting go.

"Come on, go change." She commands, pushing you lightly. You smile because she keeps her grip against your blouse as she tells you to leave.

"It is you who are keeping me here, Maximoff." You tease with a smile. Wanda smiles too, and steals a kiss from you before letting go. You stumble backwards out of the room, grinning like an idiot, but you don't care, because Wanda looks at you just the same.

//-//

Wanda looked stunning in her party dress. You wanted to kiss her again, but you knew that if you did you would smear her lipstick, and she would have a lot of inconvenient questions ahead of her. So you just smiled, and breathlessly confessed how beautiful she looked, enjoying her flushed cheeks.

By the time you joined the party, the guests were arranging themselves at the correct places, and you joined a conversation circle with Wanda at your side, greeting a few more people.

As the sun set, Erik and Charles signaled that the ceremony was about to begin.

//-//

It was all very beautiful.

Maybe you cried between one confession and another, but everyone was emotional, so no one really cared.

Your cell phone had lots of pictures on it when you came back to the house, after saying goodbye to the guests who left when the party was over. You were holding Tommy by the hand, while Billy went with his mother, and the boys looked very tired.

"Let's go to bed, okay?" Wanda warned the kids as they followed her upstairs.

Erik wanted to open a bottle of wine, so after the kids were in bed, all the adults were outside on the balcony. Wanda sat very close to you, and you resisted the urge to put your arm around her.

"I guess I'll never get used to parties." Erik then comments, smiling nostalgically, making the group smile.

"I hope you're looking forward to the twenty-year anniversary one, papa." Pietro humorously retorts, and Erik laughs, looking at his husband tenderly.

"I look forward to it."

You smiled at the passionate way the couple looked at each other. You wondered what it must be like to stay married for so long.

"I know we are all tired, but I had something to tell you." Erik then says, exchanging a look with Charles before continuing. "It's about the farm."

"What about the farm?" Pietro asked curiously.

"It 's yours."

Pietro frowns in confusion, looking at Wanda, who has the same look on her face.

"Papa, what?" Wanda asks, and Erik lets out a short laugh.

"You know I've always wanted to remodel this place, ever since you were kids." He recounts. "And Charles and I finally did it. But now we're old. And you two have your whole lives ahead of you, and well, you are our family. So Charles and I agreed that the house should belong to you both."

Wanda and Pietro exchange incredulous laughter.

"Papa, what? Are you sure?" Wanda asks looking from her brother to her father and stepfather. The older men just smile and the next moment they are hugging their children. You and Monica exchange looks of amusement.

"So, does this mean we're moving?" Monica comments once everyone is seated, and elicits a giggle from the group.

"Let's save all this serious talk for tomorrow, shall we?" Erik asks with a smile. "Today, let's just enjoy the stars."

"Someone is feeling romantic." Charles jokes making the group laugh.

"Papa, tell us some of your stories." Pietro asked with a smile, and Erik sighed, taking on a thoughtful expression.

"Um, let's see." He begins. "Have I ever told you about what happened in Budapest...?"

//-//

It was quite late when you and Wanda were finally alone, after Charles and Erik came in, you stayed talking to Pietro and Monica for a few more minutes, until they walked in as well.

You smiled at Wanda as she leaned back in her armchair to face you cross-legged, and you mimicked her position.

"Hey." She called out to you with a smile.

"Hey."

"Did you enjoy the party?"

"Yes." You assured her tenderly. "It was pretty good actually."

Wanda nodded slightly, her gaze falling momentarily to your lips.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything you want, Wanda." You retort, making her smile.

The redhead looks intently at you.

"Did you mean it?" She asks and you blink in confusion. "About moving in with me."

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you smile.

"You're not even going to ask me out first, eh?"

Wanda laughed, looking away with flushed cheeks. You swallowed dryly, lifting your hand to turn her face toward you again, stroking her cheek lightly. God, Wanda was beautiful. Her bright green eyes looking back at you, the way her hair fell around her face, every part of her.

"Don't you think we're happening too fast?" Wanda asks insecurely, you don't put your hand down, enjoying the feeling of her skin.

"It depends." You answer letting your gaze wander to her, your free hand searching for hers in your lap, twining your fingers together.

"On what?"

"If you care about me..." You whisper as you bring your faces closer together, stopping when your lips are almost touching, and you and Wanda both close your eyes in anticipation. " As much as I care about you."

You kiss Wanda before she responds. Sweetly and softly. The sensation makes you smile against her lips, and you ignore the urge to deepen the kiss to pull away.

"Is that your way of saying you're in love with me?" Wanda teases half breathlessly a minute later, her tone playful and confident, but her rosy cheeks give away how affected she is. You think she's irresistible.

You laugh lightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face before looking into her eyes.

"I'm in love with you." You confess simply, watching her blink in surprise and amazement. "So, you still think it's too fast?"

Wanda smiles, denying it, and then approaches you.

"I'm in love with you too" She confesses as a secret against your lips. You feel your stomach rumble with nervousness and excitement, but you don't say anything else, because Wanda kisses you again. She asks for passage with her tongue a second later, making you sigh.

You hold your mouths together in a passionate kiss for long minutes, panting against each other' lips as Wanda moves to sit on your lap with her hands on your neck while your hands move up to her waist. You feel hot and bothered, squeezing her skin as if you want to merge with it. It is only when your kisses begin to move down to her collarbone that Wanda gasps saying that you two should go upstairs.

She moves off your lap, breaking the kiss, and you bite your lips, chasing her mouth again. Standing up, Wanda slides her tongue against yours one last time, making your head spin, before she pulls away, smiling at you as she pulls you by the hand into the house.

She signals with her finger for you to be quiet as you enter, and you swallow dryly as you observe the way her eyes are dark.

Getting to your room seems to take forever, especially since you can barely breathe, but finally you arrive.

Wanda locks the door after you enter. And then the atmosphere changes, because you both know what is about to happen.

She smiles shyly at you and you hold out your hand to her, leading her to sit on the bed beside you.

You exchange a glance before you sigh softly, slowly moving closer to her face. When you kiss her, much more tenderly and gently than any other time, Wanda melts.

She raises her hands to your neck, deepening the kiss as she falls onto the bed and takes you with her. You kiss her firmly, swirling your tongue around hers slowly, making her shiver.

There is no rush in what you are about to do, and you certainly want to enjoy every second of it.

You rest your weight against Wanda, enjoying the feeling of having her beneath you, and the sound that escapes her throat. Your mouth separates from hers only for you to move your kisses down her collarbone, causing Wanda to close her eyes and sigh.

Your hands reach behind her back to pull down the zipper of her dress. When your fingers make contact with her exposed skin, Wanda bites her lips, entwining her legs together in search of more friction.

Your kisses move down as you pull the dress off her body, Wanda shifting on the bed to help you undress her. You move away from her neck to remove the piece completely, your gaze falling to her exposed skin the next moment. The redhead blushes at your stare, but all you can do is admire. The sight of her bare breasts makes your core throb, and you feel the urge to touch and kiss every inch.

You kiss her again in the next second, but part your mouths again quickly to move your lips down her body.

At the first touch on her breasts, Wanda gasps loudly. You smile, controlling the urge to tell her not to be so loud, but you are distracted by the growing heat in your core when you suck on her nipple and she whimpers, bringing her hand to your hair to keep you there.

Dividing your attention between the nipples, you kiss, bite, and suck the sensitive skin, keeping enough of it in your mouth for the skin to be marked red, which elicits a hearty moan from Wanda.

As your kisses begin to descend again, Wanda's body tenses. You kiss at the height of her navel before looking up, and already find her looking up at you with darkened eyes, biting her lip.

"Everything okay?" You ask in a sigh, trying to reason properly out of the bubble of lust.

Wanda's hesitation causes you to raise your face back toward her again, keeping your hands by her side so as not to fall against her body.

"What's wrong?" You ask gently, trying to find any sign of discomfort.

"Nothing." She says with a shy smile. "It's just... it's the first time I... since..."

"Yeah, I know." You interrupt half breathlessly, knowing exactly what she is referring to. "Mine too." You confess, but at this point, you knew she should have guessed it too. You have been grieving partners for quite some time, after all. "Do you want to stop?"

"No." Wanda quickly denies, biting back a smile. "I feel good."

You smile, nodding in agreement.

"Me too."

You kiss Wanda gently again, but before the kiss gets more heated, you pull away to whisper against her lips. "Let me know if you feel uncomfortable at any time."

Wanda nods, bringing your lips together next.

//-//

When you awake, it is probably the best sleep you have had in months. Wanda is curled up on you, her clothes spread across the room lit by the sunbeams from the window.

You mumble that you have to get up because the children will be up soon, but Wanda says that her father will take care of them, and kisses you until you completely forget where you are.

When you finally get up, and go downstairs for coffee, neither adult comments at all on the way Wanda's hand remains in yours throughout the meal.

//-//

While Wanda is talking to Pietro and Erik about how they are going to organize the inheritance of the farm, and the children are playing in the backyard in front of the veranda, you decide to call your mother.

You end up learning that she got a buyer for your apartment, but you tell her that you would deal with these matters when you get back. After checking email and that sort of thing, you turn off your cell phone again.

Taking one last look at the children, you walked back into the house, catching a small piece of the conversation of the others in the living room about what would be done about Wanda's flower shop, but you didn't intrude.

"We know a lot of people around here, Wanda." Charles was counting. "I'm sure we'll be able to find a new location for the flower shop."

Wanda looked slightly apprehensive, probably considering all the consequences of the relocation, but she relaxed her posture completely when you entwined your hand with hers.

When the conversation was over, it was decided that the families would move to the farm. Selling the properties in New York would take some time, but they would still move to the city during the vacations. It was going to be a rush, but Erik and Charles were willing to help too.

Since you guys were leaving that afternoon, you went back to your room to pack. And Wanda joined you a moment later, kissing you on the cheek before sitting down on your bed.

" All good?" You asked as you folded your socks.

"Yeah." She confirmed with a smile. "I'm just trying to believe that all this is really happening."

"It's not every day we get a farm, is it?" You joke making her laugh. Wanda bites her lips next, looking at you fondly, and you look away to your bag, feeling your face heat up.

"I forgot to ask you something yesterday." She begins somewhat shyly. You frown slightly, muttering for her to ask. "Are we dating?"

You laugh in surprise, throwing your folded party clothes into your suitcase, before approaching Wanda, raising your hand to her chin.

"What do you think, love?" You ask against her lips, dragging your mouth down her jaw to the height of her ear. "After what you did with your tongue yesterday, you're not going anywhere."

Wanda gasps, clenching her hands in the bed. You smile because you know the memories have hit her all over again. But you turn away next, smiling innocently at the woman in front of you before turning your attention back to the suitcase.

"I don't get a ring?" She teased next, making you laugh briefly. You looked back at the door before advancing against her, kissing her firmly, completely overturning her confident posture. When Wanda sighed against your mouth, you pulled away, and she grumbled, her hand reaching up to grab your belt and pull you back to her, but noises of footsteps made her give up.

Soon the boys came running into the room, talking excitedly about living on the farm and riding every day, and you wanted to laugh at the way Wanda had to disguise how affected she felt by your small make out session to answer her sons' questions.

//-//

After saying goodbye to your hosts with hugs, you sat in the back seat with the boys, because Tommy insisted that he wanted to show you a video game. Wanda drove you to your apartment, and after getting your suitcase from the trunk, you waved goodbye to the boys, and approached the driver's window.

"I'll call you, okay?" You tell her with a smile, Wanda nods, and you kiss her. Tommy and Billy make disgusted noises in the back of the car, and you and Wanda laugh as you part.

Waving to everyone in farewell one last time, you wait for Wanda to leave with the car before you go into the house.

"Kissing girls on the doorstep, heh? Looks like high school all over again." Your mother teases from the kitchen just as you enter. You laugh as you close the door.

"Spying through the kitchen window, Mom? And I thought I was a grown-up." You retort in the same tone as you walk to the kitchen to greet her with a kiss on the forehead, tossing your suitcase on the counter afterwards.

"Are you really dating then?" Your mother asks and you murmur in agreement. She smiles. "I'm so happy, honey. I can't wait to prepare for the wedding."

You roll your eyes humorously, picking up an apple from the countertop.

"We need to talk about your apartment, by the way." She starts again, looking through her briefcase for something. "I've found buyers, and well, I'm already looking at some houses for you, too." She says as you take a seat next to her at the table. "Of course I love having you here, but we both know you can't wait to have a place of your own again."

You sigh lightly.

"Yeah, Mom." You confirm. "About that..."

//-//

"You're late." Agatha remarked as soon as you stumbled into her office. You gave her a lopsided smile, closing the door as you entered.

"Sorry, I had a date and lost track of time."

Agatha raises her eyebrows at you.

"A date, hm? Let's talk about it then."

//-//

You had just deposited Melina's share of the apartment in the bank when your cell phone vibrated.

A message from Bucky, asking if you were coming to therapy with him today, as he was already at the station. You reply with an emoji, and a text saying coming.

//-//

"I am immensely happy for your progress, even though I am upset that you will not be continuing with us." Stephen says to you and Wanda, in your last group session.

"Well, New Jersey has its support groups. But this one is always going to be special." You tell him as you lightly tap his arm. Stephen smiles as he hands you the progress brooches. Wanda has her hand intertwined in yours, and the man in front of you looks at that before commenting.

"You know, I always find it curious the way pairs develop in the group." He comments. "We never ask that the activities be romantic, but still, many of them end up falling in love."

You and Wanda exchange a mixed look of embarrassment and happiness.

"I guess we have you to thank for that." Wanda says next, but Stephen smiles, denying it.

"Not at all. I'm happy for both of you. After all, I always thought you would get along together." He hints last, making you and Wanda laugh softly.

//-//

"I just need to lock up and grab a few last things in the office, and then we can go." Wanda told you when you arrived at the flower shop. The establishment was now empty, as the moving crew had already passed by.

You waited for her in the reception area.

With the key to the flower shop in hand and the last files that were there, Wanda hesitated. You looked at her, standing in the center of the place, eyes watering, and smiled as you approached.

"Everything okay?" You asked as you touched her arms, stroking her to calm her down.

"Yeah." She sighs, looking around one last time before looking back at you. "It just feels like I'm ending something. Like a chapter in my life."

You swallow dryly briefly, nodding.

"Are you scared?"

Wanda smiles.

"Terrified." She confesses. "But I have you, so I know I'll be all right."

You smile, lifting your hands to your neck to kiss her. It's brief and sweet, and it's exactly what you both need to be sure you're doing the right thing.

"You're a flirt, aren't you Maximoff?" You tease with a smile, and Wanda giggles lightly against your lips.

"And you are breathtaking, love."

You felt your face heat up, kissing Wanda again.

"Are you sure about what we're doing, Wanda?" You let the words escape your anxious brain next. Wanda raised her free hand to your face, caressing your cheek.

" Absolute." She assures. "You are my future."

You swallow dryly, affected by the intensity of the confession. A shy smile escapes your lips in the next moment.

"And you are mine."

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxyn #wanda x yn #marvel imagines #sorry for your loss

443 notes · View notes

imagine-a-life-like-this · 3 years

Text

You Are In Love (M.YG)

Warnings : mentions of cheating

Word Count : 2149

Synopsis : while laying in bed, she realizes she’s in love with min yoongi

When my eyes opened, I was met with my boyfriend’s sleeping face, and a smile spread across mine. His arm was lazily draped across my body, unlike the tight hold he had on me when we had fallen asleep the previous night. Watching him sleep peacefully like this, I couldn’t help but think about how lucky I am to call him mine. “What are you looking at?” He grumbled in his morning voice, his eyes slowly opening to meet mine.

“The most handsome man in the world.” I whispered, leaning up to kiss his nose. He scrunched his face before pouting, saying I missed the obvious target and pulling me in for a sweet kiss. When we pulled away and I met his eyes again, his hand moving to brush some hair out of my face, I was hit with the sudden realization that I was in love with him. I knew I was falling; I’d been falling for him since we started dating. But being with him like this feels so domestic, and I want to wake up to his face every day for the rest of my life.

“Coffee for the pretty lady.” Yoongi smiled as he sat across from me, placing both our drinks on the table between us. I thanked him and reiterated that he didn’t have to pay for me. “Let me be a gentleman.” He pouted and I giggled, completely giving into him.

I was so nervous, playing with my hands in my lap as we talked and got to know each other better. But as the date went on, I found myself laughing more and becoming more comfortable with him. After we finished our coffees, we decided to take a walk around and enjoy the nice weather. At one point, he had slipped his hand into mine, smiling down at me when I looked over to him. “I like holding hands.” He said simply, his gummy smile on full display.

“Me too.” I tightened my grip on his hand, and we continued walking around like that, telling each other stories of our lives, and just enjoying each other’s company.

I met Yoongi through a mutual friend, Jung Hoseok, and there was a connection almost immediately. He was a bit distant at first, and I later found out through Hoseok, and then Yoongi, that it was because he found me pretty and got nervous around me. It took him almost three months to ask me on our first date, and then another month to make us official.

“For you.” He said with a nervous smile as he handed me the plush he had won at the game at the fair. A blush rose to my cheeks and I accepted it, thanking him. “Those games are rigged, but I really wanted to win you something.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as we slowly walked by all the concessions.

“You’re cute.” I told him, causing him to stop walking. I stopped a couple steps ahead of him, and turned to face him, a look of confusion on my face. He just stared at me in silence, a small smile dancing across his lips that slowly grew into his wide, gummy smile that I adored.

“You think so?” He chuckled, taking the two steps towards me, and slipping his hand into mine as we continued walking.

“I know so.” I countered as I started swinging our arms back and forth, looking around at all the lights that seemed to brighten the darkening day. We made our way to the ferris wheel, completing our fair date night with a cliché. I looked out at all the lights, and watched as couples wandered around hand in hand, much like Yoongi and I.

“Can I kiss you?” His question caught me off guard, and I looked at him with widened eyes, before giggling at his question.

“You’ve kissed me before; you don’t need to ask.” I told him, and he wasted no time; cupping my face and crashing his lips to mine as if he would die otherwise.

“Just let me be a gentleman.” He said softly after he pulled away, his hands still cupping my face as he rested his forehead against mine. The ride quickly came to an end, and we decided to call it a night.

We held hands as he drove me home, his thumb running over my knuckles subconsciously. The ride was silent save for the soft music playing from the radio, but the silence was comfortable. When we made it to my apartment, he walked me to the door like he always does, but he seemed really nervous this time. I thanked him for a fun night and gave him a quick kiss goodnight. “Y/N.” He called before I could open the door, and I turned to face him. “Be my girlfriend.” He spit out quickly and my eyes widened. “I mean, uh, would you want to be my girlfriend?” He started kicking his feet and rubbing the back of his neck, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“I’d love to, Yoongs.” I walked towards him, lazily wrapping my arms around his neck, and bringing him in for a sweet kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch with Hoseok?” He asked and I nodded, asking him if he could pick me up. “It would be my pleasure.” He kissed me one more time before heading home.

Hoseok wasn’t surprised when we told him we were dating, having to deal with our pining for months. He would act as if he hated being the third wheel but was actually really happy we both were happy. He’s taken so many photos of us it’s almost like he’s our own personal photographer.

“God you two are disgustingly cute.” Hoseok rolled his eyes as he walked into Yoongi’s kitchen, Yoongi behind me with his arms wrapped around me as we cooked together. Neither one of us moved from our position, and Hoseok snapped a couple pictures. He definitely wasn’t complaining when he dug into the food and ate most of it, going on about how delicious it was.

“It was made with love.” Yoongi smiled, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

“Wow I cannot wait until you two are out of the honeymoon phase.” He quipped, but I could see the small smile on his face as he watched his two best friends fall in love.

Before meeting Yoongi, I believed I wasn’t meant to find love. Everyone I liked and dated seemed to treat me like shit; toss me aside for something better. I was scared Yoongi would do it as well, but he’s proven over and over again that he’s in this for the long run. And as I lay here in bed, staring into his eyes, realizing that he’s the love of my life, I can picture him at the end of the aisle, smiling as I walk towards him.

“Y/N! What a small world.” Mark exclaimed, pulling me in for an awkward hug. “This is Jennie, my fiancée.” I looked down at her ring finger, seeing a beautiful diamond ring adorning it. “This is Y/N, my ex. She’s chill people though.” He said to Jennie. I smiled at her, extending my hand for her to shake. She did so with little hesitation. Yoongi slid his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him as he looked at the couple in front of us.

“This is Yoongi, my boyfriend.” I told Mark, smiling up at Yoongi who was already looking at me with a smile. “This is Mark.” The two of them shook hands, and the four of us stood around for a couple of minutes before I excused us so we could go greet the man of the hour. “I forgot he and Jackson were friends.” I told Yoongi, trying to calm my pounding heart.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” Yoongi immediately led me to the closest chair, sitting me down and kneeling in front of me. He placed his hand on my forehead, checking my temperature while looking at me with concern in his eyes. I grabbed his hand from my forehead, holding it in my hand as I told him I was okay.

“Mark’s the guy I told you about. The one who doesn’t do marriage. The one who was cheating on me; with Jennie.” He cupped my face with his hands, wiping away the tears I didn’t know fell.

“Well honestly, that’s his loss. You are the most beautiful, kind-hearted person I’ve ever met. And because he was an idiot, I get to show you what true love looks like.” He ended his small speech with a small kiss. “Now, what do you say we go wish Jackson a happy birthday and then sneak away and go see that movie you wanted to see?” I smiled and nodded, taking his hand as we both stood up and made our way to Jackson.

Yoongi was right. We just celebrated our 6 months last night, and I’ve felt more loved during these last 6 months than I did the 2 years I was with Mark. Yoongi always reminds me how much he cares about me, how beautiful he finds me. Not a day goes by without him reminding me. I was so sure I was going to marry Mark, but in this moment, I know that was just a silly dream, a wish. But marrying Yoongi, I can picture it. I want to spend the rest of my life showing Yoongi all the love he’s shown me, and then some.

Come outside. His text read, and I didn’t even think twice about throwing on some clothes and meeting him outside. The sun had long set, and the stars littered the sky. There was only a small breeze ruining an otherwise perfect night.

Yoongi was standing beside his car when I got outside, a wide smile spreading across his face when he saw me. I practically jumped into his arms, giving him a quick kiss. “You make it seem like you haven’t seen me in ages.” He joked; his arms still wrapped around me.

“I haven’t seen you in 2 days. That is forever!” I jokingly exclaimed, throwing my head back to further make my point. A chuckle escaped his lips, and I absolutely loved the sound. I have since the first time I heard it. I could listen to it on repeat all day and not get bored.

“You know what, you’re absolutely right. 2 days is far too long without you, angel.” He leaned in for another kiss, one I happily returned. “Shall we go?” He asked, pointing to his car, and I nodded, even though I had no idea what he had planned. I trusted him.

He had driven us to an open field and laid a blanket down. “I wanted to star gaze with you.” He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You really are too cute, Min Yoongi.” We laid beside each other, and I listened as he pointed out different constellations to me. He would tell me the stories about them, and I would hang onto every word.

“And that one right there, that’s Y/N Y/L/N.” My eyes widened as I looked at him, sitting up quickly. He sat up too, pulling a folded paper out of his pocket, unfolding it, and showing it to me. “As of today, there is a star named after you. Because you are my star.”

“You really just went and named a star after me.” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. “Just take my whole heart, Min Yoongi. I don’t even want it back.” He chuckled, wiping away the tears that fell.

“If I could buy you the entire world, I would.” He told me. And I know he would.

“You are my world, Yoongs.” I admitted to him. And that’s when he pulled me in for the most passionate kiss I’ve ever felt. And it didn’t end there. It ended later that night, in my bed, soft moans in the air as we slept together for the first time.

As I laid beside him, recounting all my memories with him, I realized I’d been in love with him the entire time. For me, there wasn’t going to be anyone else. Min Yoongi was it for me. “What are you thinking so hard about, love?” He said softly, a small smile on his face.

“How absolutely, irrevocably in love I am with you, Min Yoongi.” I admitted and watched as his small smile grew. “I’ve always been in love with you.” I continued.

“I am so in love with you, Y/N Y/L/N.” He chuckled. “And I’m going to show you that every day for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I was thinking forever.”

“Forever sounds good.” Forever sounds perfect.

#bts imagine #bts au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi au #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin

150 notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

together | myg

pairing: min yoongi x singlemother!reader

genre: fluff, very soft fluff, domesticity

words: 5, 007

summary: min yoongi is a good man but even a better father ... figure

“Baby … what did we say about boundaries?” You crouch down to reach Jihoon’s eye level and the mini you—as said by your friends—simply ignores your oncoming lecture by staring at his feet.

“Limits …” He mumbles softly and all you want to do is hug him and tell him he can do no wrong but motherhood is tough despite all the online blogs telling you that they’re with you. You loved your baby, you really did—but God decided to fuck with you by making him the reflection of yourself when you were younger and you heard nightmarish stories from your parents from when you were growing up.

You run your hand over his hair soothingly because as much as he was like you, he was still only two years old and his own person, fluff and bread arms. You knew not to restrain him with furrowed brows or raised voices but instead with the patience your parents always taught you to have and the compassion that you wished you were naturally blessed with. But life had a funny way of taking away things from you.

Well—your ex-husband was never really taken from you—he left you, and instead of feeling shambled and distraught you were made of such resolve that you merely blinked when he packed his bags after he said he was cheating on you. The only sweat you broke was realising that Jihoon was only three months old when his dad left without sparing him another glance.

But your baby grew up and so did you. Your job at office paid well enough for you to live comfortably with Jihoon and hire nannies to look after him whenever you couldn’t; even though you tried your best to always be with him so he wouldn’t grow up resenting an absent mother. But you worried like anyone else would because while your friends and family would say you were doing an impeccable job, your self-sabotaging tendencies nagged at yourself by saying that he needed a male figure in his life.

He mumbles a soft apology, so respectful with his big eyes and you smile at him. You knew he meant no harm when storming into your office and scrambling off with important documents because he was still impressionable and curious about nearly everything. Your heart dropped when you realised your reports were pretty much incoherent with the way he doodled over them but you knew not to blame him.

“Forgiven Hoon.” You kiss his forehead.

His eyes turn into tiny slits with his toothless smile and your heart clenches at the little human you created and love dearly.

“Love you mama.” He plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek before waddling off to his playpen where his toys are laid neatly. If there was anything he inherited from you; it’d be your meticulous tendencies.

You sigh, leaning into the wall of your kitchen as you watch Jihoon with fond eyes as he plays with his dolls and figurines, dressing them in dresses and pants just like how you taught him that gender had no look and that everyone was different. Obviously, explaining the concept of social constructs to a two-year-old is not a conversation any parent would have with their child but you believed that these fundamental core values of humanity were important to his growth into his toddler stages and eventually adulthood.

“I can’t believe you squeezed that cutie out of your vagina.” Taehyung snorts, sneaking up behind you and you don’t flinch because you’re way too used to his unwanted comments and sudden appearances.

“I am 90% cute so it’s only right that my child inherits that from me.” You retort, eyes still trained on your baby boy.

Taehyung looks over at Jihoon who directs a mini-play of a loving family, and your heart is still sad at the prospect of his adolescent years only being with you.

“You know … hyung is asking about you,” Taehyung says and you immediately still in your position, hands freezing in your pockets because you know exactly who he’s referring too and you weren’t exactly ready for that conversation, especially with your older brother.

“He says he misses Hoonie.”

You sigh, turning your head to face your older brother and you can only muster enough emotion to look fine with his statement but you simply looked constipated with the way your face scrunches up.

“We’ve been busy …” You mutter.

“Jihoon is two-years-old and the only thing he’s busy with is trying not to give you a heart attack every time he nearly runs into the wall and you literally work from home now that your boss is some progressive liberal that tries a new system every two days,” Taehyung says dryly, pinning you with a deadpan.

“Stop offending me by insulting my son!” You whine.

“That’s my nephew too.” He rolls his eyes as you punch him in the shoulder.

“That has a name and it’s Jihoon you bitch.”

“Mama said beech?” Jihoon tilts his head in a curious manner and your expression morphs into one of mortification as Taehyung cackles in response.

“Stop. Laughing.” You hiss but it’s no use because your brother has never once listened to anything you had to say throughout the last twenty-nine years of your life.

“You—” Your snide is cut short by rapt knocks on your door, and you see Taehyung’s grin widen. You know that look intimately because it’s the expression he wears before he pisses you off or embarrasses you.

“He’s here!” He sounds delighted as he skips towards the door. You want to pull his back by his collar to ask him what the fuck he was talking about but he’s quick with his hands and the door is open. Your mouth falls and you nearly get whiplash with the way that you stare at your guest.

“Y-Yoongi.” He was possibly the last person you wanted to see and you had no idea what he was doing at your apartment at night on a weekday.

Then you see Taehyung’s pleased expression and put two-and-two together.

“___, hey. Taehyung said you needed help with Hoon tonight?” He offers a tilt of his lips because Yoongi was not an expressive man by any means. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have a good heart; that was far from the truth of the enigma that was Min Yoongi.

He was a good person and an even better friend. Although the two of you had tip-toed on the line between friends to something more than that, he never explicitly said anything about his interests to you. And you didn’t want to pressure him by saying anything because even though he was in his thirties and still very much single with a stable job as a surgeon at the top hospital, a two-year-old son is rarely what a man that appealing ever wants when looking for a relationship.

That was why you stopped replying to his texts or inviting him over to hang out with Jihoon anymore because Jihoon adored him so much and your poor heart couldn’t bear to see the two boys interact without an ugly flower called hope bloom in your chest. He only ever knew who you were because he and Taehyung were co-workers and probably only tolerated you by association.

You loved Jihoon and wanted the best for him. Even if that was Min Yoongi—you needed to protect your heart too.

“I did?” You tilt your head and Yoongi automatically notices the habit that you and Jihoon share. Taehyung is somehow next to you already and you know that because he stomps on your foot and shoots you a glare when you hiss.

“I did.” You cough.

“Mama?” Jihoon peeks his head through the divider between the kitchen and the common area, and his eyes immediately light up when he sees Yoongi hovering by the entrance.

“Yoongi!” He squeals as he speeds as fast as he can with his little feet towards the man in his scrubs who shoots your son with his gummy smile.

“Hey, buddy.” He picks your son up effortlessly and you know you’re staring but you rarely ever see men who are this patient let alone this good with children.

“Close your lips,” Taehyung whispers into your ear.

“I’m—that’s not what was happening …” You mumble, a blush appearing on your cheeks as you look away from the hugs and kisses that Yoongi gives Jihoon.

“I meant your other ones.” Your brother says dryly.

“Kim Taehyung—!” Your arms are already reaching for his neck to strangle him but Yoongi calling your name snaps you out of your anger.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”

Your head snaps to Yoongi who now has Jihoon on his hip while he plays with the material of his scrubs. You hate how your heart flutters at the domesticity of the question and how Yoongi looks so much like a father to your son and a husband in your home.

You realise the dangerous daydream you’re falling into and shake your head to snap out of it before you hurt yourself even more.

“Us? No, we haven’t. Tae and I were planning to order in at our favourite place.” You tell Yoongi with a small smile.

You see the hint of a frown marring on his face but it goes as quick as it comes as he stalks towards you.

“Actually—” Taehyung cuts in before Yoongi can say anything, “—I have a … thing.”

He points his thumb towards the door and you curse him in your head so much that you hoped sibling telepathy was a thing so he could hear what you felt about him right now.

“You … do?” Yoongi asks.

Taehyung shrugs, as ambiguous as ever before ruffling Jihoon’s hair and offering a fist bump and a kiss before he approaches your door.

“Taehyung—” You grit.

“Bye, buddy! Yoongi.” He acknowledges the two other boys but not you and you know it’s because while Taehyung loved to annoy you, he knew you were a handful and quite literally the spawn of satan when you were angry and you weren’t just angry but livid.

“Get back here—!” And he’s gone before you know it, and even Jihoon mumbles a soft bye Tae samchon after he’s gone.

You sigh, resting your head against the frame of the door that was now shut in your face, stuck in your own house with the man that you’ve been helplessly pining over that looks way too at home with the way Jihoon plays with the softness of his black hair.

You turn around, closing your eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

When you open them, Yoongi has an eyebrow raised, placing Jihoon on his high-chair. And you don’t know why you found that act so hot but you couldn’t even set your own son down into that chair without him making a fuss but he only giggled cheekily when Yoongi did so.

“What for?”

He doesn’t sound angry, just genuinely confused. You purse your lips and walk towards Jihoon who was simply babbling to himself and grab a cloth to wipe at the appearance of a new stain on his shirt which you suspect he got from his playtime earlier, and you internally groaned at the fact that he probably found some food and decided that it would be a good addition to his play family.

“I know it’s really busy at the hospital this time around and Taehyung basically scammed you here … with us.” You fiddle with your fingers after you pick up a toy on the floor and pass it to Jihoon to keep him occupied as you have a much more … adult-esque conversation with Yoongi. While you made it clear to Jihoon that he didn’t necessarily have a father in his life because you owed him that much, you tried to steer far from conflict and turmoil so he wouldn’t have to grow up knowing only the lows of life.

Yoongi just … stares. And it’s unnerving because you could barely read the man in general and he was looking at you with a blank expression that only causes your anxiety to settle further into your bones. You’re thinking of about a million different ways to apologise or to spontaneously combust so you could save yourself from the scrutiny of Yoongi’s eyes. But before you can say anything and embarrass yourself, even more, he speaks.

“Do you think I don’t enjoy spending time with the two of you?” He frowns, and that’s the most expressive you’ve seen him throughout your entire friendship with the man. The fact that the first time he’s ever shown any explicit emotion around you is one of … disappointment … only makes you realise how far out of his league you were.

“N-No!” You shake your head, flustered at his tone. When you look at him, his face is much softer; a type of expression that shows longing but you aren’t quite sure why it’s there.

“It’s just … you’re busy, Yoongi. You’re a hotshot doctor at the best private healthcare facility in the city and you’re here spending the last night before the weekend with some pathetic single mom who still—by the way—can’t decide on how to brush my teeth just because it doesn’t feel right.”

Yoongi blinks at you, then he looks over at Jihoon and you’re confused for a second because it seems like he’s dismissing your mini ramble, but instead, he reaches out to Jihoon’s hand and bends down so he can look Jihoon straight in the eye.

“Hey, bud?” He calls out to Jihoon and your son looks at Yoongi with all the stars in his eyes.

Your heart softens at the interaction and notices how the way Jihoon doesn’t pull away when Yoongi reaches out to carry him in his arms again.

“Yoongi!” He squeals, squeezing the man’s cheeks between his chubby fingers and you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm and the way that Yoongi resembles a cat.

“I need to ask you something.” He whispers as if it were only the two of the room and you stand on the opposite of them with your arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

Your son bobs his head up and down in agreement as he waits for Yoongi to ask him his question.

“Yoongi …” You trail off but he pays you no mind.

“Do you love your mama?” The question surprises you and your mouth opens and closes, and your emotions are all over the place because the question makes you feel nearly inadequate. The way that he asks the question prompts you to wonder if it seemed like what you were doing for Jihoon just wasn’t enough.

“What is this even about?” You snap, eyes narrowed at Yoongi but he still ignores you.

Jihoon nods his cute little head eagerly without a moment of hesitation after Yoongi asks his … what you would say—preposterous question.

“I love mama with all my heart. She’s the best!” Jihoon giggles into Yoongi’s shirt as he leans his head against his chest. You don’t know why his words make you choke up when he tells you he loves you every day but the reassurance that your son does indeed love you makes you feel like you can do anything. It was also probably the fact that you noticed Yoongi smiling fondly between the two of you.

“Do you think she’s pathetic, Hoonie?” He throws your words to your son and you scowl at Yoongi who is still keeping his act of ignoring you very much alive.

“Pathedic?” Jihoon tilts his head again and you almost coo at the slight lisp he has when he asks.

Yoongi chuckles warmly and offers you a small smile as if to tell you that you’d see soon enough before repeating himself to your son.

“Bad.” Yoongi settles.

Jihoon gasps in his tiny little way and frowns, looking over at you with a cute crumpled expression that makes your heart swell even more. The urge to hold your son increases tremendously but you were still confused and curious as to what Yoongi was getting at.

“No no no! Mama is the best, didn’t you hear?” Jihoon squabbles.

You bite your lip to refrain from smiling so wide and choke back the tears that well up.

“Mama always cooks yummy food and never yells at me! I always see other mama’s yelling at their babies but mama … mama loves me too, right?” He rambles off and you sniffle.

“Love you a lot, Hoon.” You say from a distance and Jihoon is satisfied with your answer.

You turn to look at Yoongi and sigh.

“What is this about, Yoongi?” You sound stern and he acknowledges that. He knows the situation is much more serious than what he perceives but he can’t help but observe how the furrow of your brows resembles a squirrel. The comparison makes him want to laugh because you were so cute even when you were angry.

“I have one more question.” He tells you.

You don’t say anything but watch the way he leans in closer to Jihoon with eyes more serious than you’ve seen before.

“You want to see mama happy?” Yoongi whispers so softly that you almost miss it.

Jihoon nods.

“Of course. Mama always makes me happy. But she looks … lonely.” Jihoon frowns a little and you can’t help but have a tear fall. Your baby boy was young but observant and had a heart of pure gold. You didn’t need anyone but Jihoon but—

“What do you think if she gave you a papa?” Yoongi asks and the question stills your entire body. You don’t even see the way Jihoon lights up at the proposition and you also miss the way Yoongi looks over at you once to gauge your reaction.

“Will you be my papa Yoongi?” The question is what snaps you out of your reverie to realise the situation you were in and the allusion of Jihoon’s question.

“Jihoon! You can’t just—say sorry.” You squeak but Jihoon doesn’t pay you any mind because his attention is all on Yoongi who is smiling as wide as he possibly can.

“Only if your mom says yes, Hoonie. If only she knew how much I liked her.” He tells Jihoon but he’s looking at you. Your eyes are wide at the confession and your hands fall limp by your side; not knowing how to respond to Yoongi’s sudden confession.

It wasn’t anything spectacular, and it didn’t cause butterflies to erupt like it was in the movies but the confession was so wholeheartedly Yoongi that you felt so … comfortable. A surprising yet welcoming emotion.

Jihoon looks over to you but you’re looking at Yoongi who looks at you with soft eyes.

“Say yes mama!”

Yoongi stands up from his position to walk over to your frozen state until your hands rest on his chest unconsciously. He looks down at you as his arms wrap around your waist to pull you flush against his body. You blush and avoid his stare when he tries to catch your eyes. You know Jihoon is watching and that makes you feel all the more flustered. It was like you were back in high school and you were ‘canoodling’ behind your parents’ backs.

“Y-Yoongi …” You try to push him away but he reaches his hands to wrap them around your own.

“I’m sorry but you can’t run away from me this time ___.” He teases.

You flush and look away.

“I wasn’t … running …” You mutter.

He chuckles and shakes his head that you feel strands of his hair against your forehead when he leans in closer to connect your forehead with his own.

“Okay.” He agrees. He doesn’t put up a fight and you hate how even when you’re the one that’s flustered he can make you feel … safe. Calm.

“I like you, dumbass. I would go as far to say that I’m in love with you but I know how scared you get so let’s settle for the baby steps first, yeah?” He says so casually that your eyes bulge out of your eye sockets comically.

“You c-can’t just …” You blubber, “Say that!”

Yoongi scoffs.

“I like you Kim ___.”

You punch him in the chest but he doesn’t even flinch.

“No you don’t …” You whisper.

You don’t look at him but you can feel his frown.

“And who are you to tell me how I feel?”

You sigh.

“Yoongi … I don’t know if you heard what I said earlier but you’re … you … and I’m just some other girl that you know because of Taehyung and I’m a mother of a two-year-old. You could literally be with anyone you wanted and I just … you don’t like me. You just—can’t.” You exasperate.

He frowns at you, forcing your chin up to look at him with his index finger. You burn even redder at how close you were.

“I love you. I love Jihoon. And you need to get out of your pretty little head because I don’t want to be with anyone but you. I don’t know where you’re getting this weird picture of me being with anyone I want because I don’t want anyone. I want this—I want in, in this little family.”

You feel yourself choke up, and Yoongi notices so he holds you closer until your head is against his chest.

“I’m emotionally constipated half the time I interact with anyone but you just … you make me feel alive and things that I generally don’t feel on a daily basis. You and Hoon are the only things that keep me going with all the surgeries and stuff. I’m in love with you and it’s all your fault and Hoonie wants you to be happy as much as I do—so please: stop running.”

“Why are you running mama?” Jihoon asks and you remember your son is watching it all.

You flush but don’t move from Yoongi’s grasp. He thinks of this as a step forward because all you do is turn your head to look at Jihoon and offer him a smile through your tears.

You and Yoongi hear Jihoon’s whine and you see him reach his arms towards you as a gesture for you to carry him.

“Mama why are you crying!” He cries.

You feel Yoongi release you and you immediately reach out to Jihoon like it was second nature because it was. Jihoon was the only thing that kept you going when people would give you odd stares as a single mother especially when you were starting to look into preschools for your son. All the superiors would question your legitimacy and income when you were earning more than the average working man. You were always very particular about who you allowed into Jihoon’s life because he was young and got attached easily. But Yoongi made it so … easy. Just like he was that missing piece in both your and Jihoon’s lives.

“I’m okay bubs.” You kiss Jihoon on his cheeks as you hold back your tears.

“Don’t cry, mama.” Jihoon frowns and puts his thumbs between your furrowed brows just like you would always do when he was starting to sulk. You chuckle and hold your son closer to your chest, feeling all the more comforted.

“I’m serious about this ___ …” Yoongi steps closer to you and wraps an arm around you and Jihoon and the action feels so utterly domestic. You feel safe and content within his grasp.

“Yoongi …” You look up at him through your eyelashes and Yoongi has always been entranced with your beauty. It was never just about how beautiful you looked when you were a mother to Jihoon but the energy you carried around you was contagious and he’s immediately lightened up in your presence. He was patient with you because he knew you were serious about Jihoon and that he was your number one priority.

“No, please … listen to me ___.” He cups your cheeks while Jihoon is looking between the two of you with keen interest.

“I know you’re scared because of Jihoon and that’s valid. But I don’t want you to think that you’re not enough for me for superficial reasons because the truth is I probably won’t ever be enough for you and you’re here being the woman of my dreams. I respect your decision if you aren’t ready for a relationship and I won’t push you but I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere just because we aren’t together because I rather have you next to me as a friend than lose out on you forever.”

You had always been a crybaby and Taehyung was probably the reason why you cried all the time as children since he always had been the more rambunctious one between the two of you while you were far timider. But Yoongi knew that under all the times you shed tears because you were touched is a strong-willed woman that could withstand nearly anything in this world if it were for her son.

“And I know that I’m not over my head thinking this but … you want me too and it’s okay if you do but you don’t want a relationship. I respect you as a person, a woman and the mother of Jihoon. I just don’t want you to push me away.” He whispers so softly when he looks into your eyes.

“Mama …” Jihoon whines and you look down at him for a moment when he gives you a glare that doesn’t look so intimidating because of his bread cheeks.

“Yoongi is fun! Can he be our daddy?” You know his choice of words didn’t necessarily entail that context for you in particular but you blush anyway because he was just two. Yoongi senses your flustered state but squeezes your cheeks in between his hands and you feel coddled. It was a new feeling, one that was almost unfamiliar with how long you’ve been deprived of a significant other’s touch.

“I—Yoongi … I really don’t know what to say …” You mumble.

Yoongi smiles at you, comforting and homey all at once because Yoongi was a lot of things but never pushy.

“You don’t have to say anything. I don’t know if you realised this but I’m basically Hoon’s dad whether you like it or not because he and I spend more time together than I do with my colleagues at work and I work overtime all the time.” He teases.

“Jihoon really adores you.” You agree, biting on your lip as your mind races for the hundredth time this hour.

You liked Yoongi. You really did—and somewhere along the way, like turned into something more … dangerous. A territory that you usually reserved for Jihoon because you only had the capacity to care for one boy in your life but Yoongi smuggled his way into your heart and here he was causing a hurricane in your stomach.

The words he spoke were so truthful and genuine that you can’t help but believe that against all odds in the universe, Yoongi has somehow chosen you. You were the one that was afraid. He has always chosen you. That enough is shown when he makes his way after tiring shifts just to lay on your couch and play with Jihoon in times where all he could do was babble incoherent words. He chose you when he made surprise visits with the homemade stew that you knew he knew your son and you loved. He chose you when he invited you and Jihoon to spend Chuseok together because you mentioned just spending it with your son than with your family. His parents adored you and were even more taken with Jihoon.

He has always chosen you but now it was your turn.

“I love you.”

You say those words without much further thought because you’ve always felt it. Three words have never felt so safe on your tongue to utter into the atmosphere and you feel the same after the truth is out there. You always knew how you felt and you knew that Yoongi was smart to observe your feelings too, which was why when you finally said it he just looked … content. Happy—like he was in a place that was so familiar and comforting that he didn’t need to react any differently.

“I want—I want to be with you.” You clear your throat, “If you’ll have me.”

You look so shy and young—because you were. But you had that childlike innocence that he’s only ever had the pleasure to see when you would play fight with Jihoon. He feels his chest swell with pride knowing that he was the reason you looked like that and felt the way you did.

“Hmm … should I?” He leaned in closer until his breath was on your cheek.

You knew he was teasing you but you still can’t meet his eyes, and Jihoon simply giggles at the way Yoongi squeezes him between your chests in a way so comforting that Jihoon feels like it’s a warm hug from a blanket.

“Don’t tease …” You grumble.

Yoongi runs his hand through your hair and pulls your head closer to his to give you a gentle kiss on the lips. It was nothing seductive or implicative but so Yoongi. A kiss to show you he wanted this and that he felt whatever flurry of emotions you felt. A kiss like he was coming home.

He pulls away and you see Jihoon frowning between the two of your through your redness and shock.

“I wanna’ kiss too!” He whines, and you and Yoongi both look at your son with the stars in your eyes, then lock eyes with each other; and you do what comes naturally next.

You both kiss your son on the cheeks.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #yoongi imagine #yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #fluff #imagine #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi #yoongi

490 notes · View notes

matan4il · 2 years

Note

where do you see them going with Lucy? I truly don't think it's a romance with Buck they would have set it up by now. The first kiss would have revealed a spark there and nothing from Lucy, it was meaningless to her. Also the episodes have highlighted that they're not compatible with one another, Lucy wants none of the things buck wants in a relationship.

Hi Nonnie! Thank you for the ask. It’s also very similar to this one, so if it’s okay, I’ll answer them together!

BL is written incredibly platonic, I think it was just meant to show us Taylor has it wrong and she really doesn't understand Buck hence the next episode her going after his family. Lucy is not a love interest, just look at the way she reacted to Taylor's accusations she looked so confused and taken aback like what the hell is she talking about meanwhile the real threat is literally in back of them next to her BF the entire time. Nothing of BL has been written romantically, and they certainly have not been written in the serious/endgame way whatsoever. They also are not compatible and we've seen already multiple instances in dialogue where Lucy makes it clear her and Buck want different things from relationships. Buck wants marriage, Lucy thinks marriage is a sham. Buck wants family, Lucy loves the rush and chase. Buck wants stability, Lucy doesn't believe in serious relationships.

TBH, I’m not ruling out a romance between Buck and Lucy. I don’t think they’ll be endgame any more than Buck and Taylor were, but I don’t discount the possibility. Just like when Taylor returned and a lot of people in this fandom seemed to assume she’s there to just be besties with Buck. In 408, the ep in which she returned, they already had an exchange that implied 911 is most likely to have brought her back to be Buck’s newest LI. I’ve written about it in response to several asks at the time.

One of the things I pointed to was that once a male/female relationship had included sexual tension of any sort, most Tv shows are not likely to let it go easily and move onto “just friends” without ever revisiting the possibility of something else. When Lucy was introduced in 511, she had a few character traits that we know she shares with Taylor which Buck seems to appreciate (very confident, gives Buck a no-nonsense attitude, highly passionate about her line of work), then she kissed him and he kissed her back. True, they were both drunk and she brushed it off later, but this could be played later as “in denial” or something similar. And then there’s the similarity to quite a few “they’re co-workers secretly pining for each other” storylines I’ve seen over the years. Most especially, that line from Buck in 516, assuming we rely on subtitles and the transcript. I’d also take into consideration Lucy’s reaction to his line. She looks like he said something very impactful, she appears taken aback for a second, then she gives a small smile, like she realizes she means more to Buck than she knew. Even the choice to have a close up of her before cutting to a shot with Taylor in the background of their conversation and then a close up on of her tells me that Lucy’s reaction is supposed to be meaningful. That Taylor didn’t pick up on nothing.

Regarding Lucy’s reaction to Taylor’s threat... It might have taken Lucy a moment (especially if she was so drunk that she doesn’t remember the kiss, which was implied though not confirmed, she wouldn’t think Taylor has a reason to have this extreme reaction... Threatening someone is not exactly a common reaction in real life), but she did get the threat and reacted not with, for example, “What is she on about?” Instead we got, “Well, she’s a peach.”

And I agree, Buck and Lucy are def not compatible IMO in terms of what they want in a r/s, but then, Taylor didn’t seem like the most domestic or romantic type either (not even in 408, when she implied she expected her and Buck to be fuck buddies of some sort), and 911 still got her together with Buck.

So IDK where they’re going with Lucy, romance is my best guess after 517 and before 518 has aired. I’m not saying it will def happen, and even if it will, IDK when, if it’s slated for the s5 finale or for s6. I just don’t see that they’ve done anything else with her character so far in 5b, so if it’s not to be another Buck LI, I’m not sure what she is meant to do there once Eddie is back with the team.

I’m sorry if this is disappointing! I can tell you, if 911 does go there, I can’t see them lasting any more than Buck and Taylor did. And hey, if I’m wrong, and Lucy won’t be Buck’s next LI? Then that will be a nice surprise! I guess I prefer to be ready than to be insanely let down if that’s where the show chooses to go next. It still doesn’t mean Buddie aren’t endgame either way. And I also wanna be honest with you rather than tell you what’s maybe more fun to hear or might get this post more notes. So I hope you don’t hate me for this reply.

Hope you have a lovely day and that you keep smiling! xoxox

(I got an influx of asks, I WILL answer all of them, but it might take a sec. If anyone wants to check whether I've already answered theirs or to read my replies, here's my ask tag. Thank you! xoxox)

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #evan buck buckley #anti-bucktaylor #new girl lucy #anti-bucklucy #ask #anon ask #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

35 notes · View notes

onetoomanyfandomfixations · 3 years

Text

I’m Struggling with figuring out who Annora’s love interest/s are. Mainly because I love all of the tropes they fit. They just make me 🥺🥺

A I Z A W A

grumpy x sunshine. the parents of UA. would both Die for their kids, but express their love differently. annora dotes; she hugs and praises and rewards her students. she proudly proclaims them as her beloved children. shouta is almost the opposite; his love for the kids is harsh. it’s pushing them so they learn to push back, it’s quietly watching them figure things out and being silently proud. the kids don’t pick up on their relationship for ages, but once they figure it out it strangely makes sense. their teachers are opposites, but the same. their love for eachother is soft, and domestic. their love is built in gentle kisses and breakfast in bed and late night tv binges.

H A W K S

mutual pining. specifically between the extrovert and their adopted introvert. two people so confident in their relationship turned uncertain. friends for years but yearning to be more for even longer. they dance around their feelings, brushing every slight attempt off as a joke. everyone knows how they feel except eachother. all their friends have bets as to who will confess and when. they are teasing and sharp tongue paired with flushed faces and stuttering. lingering touches that are instantly denied. they are extravagant dates, only to be abandoned for a pillow fort. they are the kindergartener pulling hair for attention. together they live the childhood they had stolen from them far too young. will they eat chicken nuggies for dinner, exclusively? perhaps. do they care? absolutely not.

D A B I

childhood friends to enemies to lovers. a love so innocent and sweet turned to bitter grief. extreme betrayal from seeing how life brought them apart. the pain of seeing glimpses of what was, or might have been. they are pain, and grief, and longing. they are nights spent crying and screaming into a pillow. they are hesitated throws in the heat of battle. they are soft where they should be brutal. annora wants to help, to heal. and dabi wants to be heard. their love is passionate and forgiving. it is putting in the effort to look after yourself. dabi is learning to put yourself first. annora is learning to look after others as well. together, they can heal. they will learn, and hurt, and love unconditionally. they will hold one another accountable, but with soft encouragement.

What do y’all think??? Comment or pm me your preference :))

#bnha #bnha oc #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero acadamy #bnha heacanon #bnha x oc #bnha x reader #my hero headcanons #oc #aizawa x oc #hawks x oc #dabi x oc #shouta aizawa #keigo takami #touya todoroki

55 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

Somebody to love (PART 2/2): (Richard Alonso Muñoz x fem!reader)

Summary: PART ONE IS HERE. Whilst your neighbour, Richard, is in love with love, you are a little more commitment averse. When he performs a small act of kindness though, your feelings start to unravel, and you wonder if you may have found somebody to love - right next-door all along.

Richard is a sweet, gentle man, and so I hoped to create a sweet, gentle story. I hope you enjoy spending some time in it!

I HAVE POSTED THIS IN TWO PARTS, ONLY BECAUSE OF LENGTH. WHILST YOU COULD PROBABLY(?) READ EITHER PART AS A STANDLONE, THEY ARE MEANT TO WORK TOGETHER.

Genre / tropes: pining, friends to lovers (sort of - neighbours to lovers), getting together, domesticity, fluff, smut, nothing bad happens, ends happily, quite a slow burn for a one-shot, I guess?

Author’s note: This is part of my friends to lovers event, prompt requested by @foxilayde who I adore and you should too. Prompt was: he does something utterly mundane which shows how well he knows you, and your feelings hit you. I took some liberties with the prompt, and there is zero pressure to read this - IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB! :P More of these requests in pinned post!

Tags: (will add tomorrow)

Warnings/ Ratings:

PART ONE (Mature, 18+ ONLY): swearing; sexual themes (erotic poetry, thirsty internal monologue, sexual tension); food themes inc. mentions/ consumption; family mentions - reader has nieces but they need not be biological; brief mentions of the prison system - Richard is a Corrections Officer; exceedingly brief mention of the Holocaust in context of a non-fiction book Richard is reading (I believe this is a canon read but may be wrong); loneliness (theme, not too angsty); self-esteem issues if you squint.

PART TWO: (Explicit, 18+ ONLY): swearing; explicit sex, including - oral m + f receiving; unprotected vaginal sex; creampie; f squirting (first time doing so); well-endowed man, ahem.

Word count: 10k for part 1, 9k for part 2.

The date has been flawless. The best date you’ve had.

Richard is amazing to talk to and appealing to look at. He makes you feel safe and secure, yet also ignited and pleasantly destabilised. His laugh is music. His smile is sunshine. He is at times serious and in other moments delightfully playful. His gentle, quiet nature suckers you in to him, and once you are in the circumference of his warmth, you simply don’t want to leave.

You want to treat this special man to all the love he deserves.

You reflect, as you walk together towards your street, hand-in-hand, that it feels as though you’ve known him for years - and, of course, you have. You simply hadn’t been paying adequate attention. It is evident that Richard has, however. That he already knows you and understands you better than you could have imagined.

So, now, as you step up on to your porch, Richard stands a couple of steps below you, his cola-coloured eyes big and gentle and sparkling as he looks up at you. You loop your arms so that they rest on his shoulders, your fingers dipping into the glorious manicured curls at the nape of his neck. You had hoped that Richard might respond by winding his arms around your waist -or perhaps gripping your hips or your ass, to be quite honest- but instead, he stands there, taut with nerves, and yet his arms hung limply by his sides.

He seems so responsive; so receptive to every small touch you give him, the man humming lightly as you stroke his soft skin, and yet, he hasn’t returned the favour. You wish he would touch you, but, in resignation, you smile softly, guessing that if Richard won’t take the initiative, you will simply have to. After all, you’ve been desperate to kiss the man all evening. So, with a gentle smile and a search of his eyes, you shift one hand to cup his shapely chin, tipping his face up towards you.

“I want to kiss you, Richard. Is that okay with you?”

Keenly, he lets out a half-strangled affirmation, the weight of his plea creasing the space between his brows. “Please.”

And so, you pick up his unsure arms and you guide them around your waist, until his hands tentatively settle, polite but also firm and broad and warm around you, and you rehoop your arms around his neck, readying to move in for the kill.

Dipping your head down, you inch yourself closer and closer towards Richard’s lips, and you wonder if his heart is hammering the way yours is. You take in the beautiful sight of his eyes fanning closed and chin tilting up eagerly towards you, before your own eyes follow suit, your noses bumping awkwardly as you tilt around each other. The first sensation you feel is his moustache, the thick brush of it tickling your lips and causing you to faintly moan as you feel this small indication of his closeness. This breathy, broken sound from you causes Richard’s hands to tighten around your waist, finally, and with either a surge of bravery or a collapsing of his resolve -perhaps both- it is he who closes the remaining distance, his warm lips keenly meeting yours.

At first, it is a chaste, closed-lipped kiss that, even so, makes your legs tremble almost immediately. His soft lips are so moreish that when you break from him, leaning your forehead against Richard’s -both your chests heaving and your breaths practically one- you immediately sink back again to his lips, needing to taste him again.

You smile into the kiss as you become accustomed to the sensation of that glorious moustache, scraping lightly against your upper lip and cheek and nose, and you feel desire sink all the way through the pit of you like a stone as Richard’s tongue delves gently into your mouth. This surge of his kiss is like nothing you have felt before, and whilst Richard may seem timid, and while his ministrations may be gentle and slow, you could swear you have never felt a more assured tongue in your life.

“Do you want to come inside?” you ask urgently, your voice a broken, breathy thing, the air for your words ripped from his lips.

“Yes. Yes, I’d like to, very much,” Richard answers just as quickly, his eyes dancing with a delicious brewing heat as you take his hand and lead him into your home.

Your lips find him again as shoes and jackets are shrugged off, strewn haphazardly in the hallway, his kisses slow-moving and deliciously sweet, sending a cloying desire like warmed syrup sinking to the pit of you. Your stomach flips each time you feel his tongue against yours, as though your core intends to mirror the languid circling of his tongue, and suddenly you are already throbbing there, thinking of where these burgeoning kisses might be leading.

“You’re so beautiful,” Richard breathes, sinking on to your lips again, and your legs weakening beneath you.

You lead Richard deeper inside your home, and you vaguely consider your options, but with this hazy, hungry heat all around you, dragging him to your bedroom by the hand seems like the only viable course of action.

“Do you... want to come to my bed with me?” you ask, voice levelled with need and stomach buzzing with the pleasant thrum of nerves.

He answers affirmatively and you waste no time, until you are both seated on the edge of your bed, continuing your slow, sensual make-out session, bodies twisted towards each other. Richard kisses you deeply, opening your mouth up to him, until he breaks from you with a wracked groan, squirming with slight discomfort and apology as he adjusts himself, to better accommodate the growing bulge between his legs.

When he spreads his denim-clad thighs, like that, they look so sturdy and appealing that you want to climb him. Want to straddle his lap and writhe your heat right over his tenting arousal.

Still, you hesitate. He’s eager, you know that much; and God, so are you. However, he still seems nervous about reaching out to you or taking the lead. His hands never stray far from zones he may consider more polite or more comfortable, despite the fact he has happily allowed your hand to inch up and up his clothed thigh and towards that tenting crotch of his, his pretty, wracked moans spurring you on.

So, as he breaks from you, momentarily, you pull back to search his eyes.

“Would you… Would you like to touch me, Richard?” you suspire, wanting to progress this further, but only if he’s comfortable.

As you regard him, you note that you have never seen a man look quite so dishevelled with need - both literally and figuratively. Your hands have upset his perfectly fixed curls, mussed tendrils now draping over his forehead. His kiss-plumped lips are parted to accommodate his now ragged breaths, and he looks almost forlorn - pained with it, as though he might end if he isn’t kissing you again within moments. “Yes. Please.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” he responds, brow furrowed with weighty desire and eyes searching yours.

The tone with which he responds to you, sunken with need, has a hard swallow trailing down your throat. An immediate and impossible ache building between your legs.

“How about… here?”, you say tentatively, gingerly taking his hand, and moving it beneath the fabric of your dress until his warm fingers meet the bare flesh of your thighs. His thumb instantly sinks in to knead you as he works his hand up further, inching towards your core, exactly where you need him.

“God, you’re so soft. You feel so good.”

“C-can I touch you?” you ask, as he inches higher, and it comes out as a plea. You need to. Need to touch him. Everywhere. You need to feel him under your hand - feel him all over you. On you. Against you. Buried in you. Fuck, you need him.

With your question though, Richard’s hungry eyes are momentarily clouded by apprehension, and so, you take a moment to rein in your snowballing desire; to properly check-in with him.

“Let’s talk for a minute. Can I do anything to make you feel more comfortable?” your voice soft and soothing, your hand smoothing over his thigh.

Richard flutters his eyelashes and looks down at his lap, withdrawing his hand from under your dress. Your skin shivers, instantly cold with the loss of him. He nods, slowly, soberly, his face set and moustache downturned. Then, when his words come, his voice is small and sad. “I asked my buddy at work for advice. Said I had a date with someone out of my league. Somebody so perfect, and that I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Your eyebrows knit together. You shake your head in disbelief. Your one single desire now, is to set his misapprehension to rest. “Fuck that. I’m not out of your league, Richard. You’re gorgeous. You’re perfect.” You cup his cheek again, planting a kiss on that now familiar spot, right on the tip of his cheekbone, a spot perfectly contoured to your lips.

His eyes flick back up to yours, shining with gratitude, but he still looks unsure.

“Perfect,” you repeat, dipping to press a kiss to his opposite cheek. “Gorgeous.” To the tip of his nose. “Sexy.” To the corner of his lips. “Handsome.” To the column of his neck. Meanwhile, smoothing your hand over his thigh and arm and chest, keeping your desire stoked but mainly aiming to offer him comfort, and to bolster his wavering confidence.

A smile claims Richards eyes, at least, if not his lips, and he brings his hand to your face, caressing you gently in gratitude. You pull up to search his eyes and his expression says it all.

You are beautiful.

And, despite his nervousness, his timidness, when Richard next speaks, there is no hint of self-consciousness in his voice. Not an ounce, his kind eyes backlit with lust. With that now familiar, gentle, nuanced heat. “He said… Said that I should eat you out like a man starved.”

To your credit, you try to speak. You really do, your mouth opening and closing again wordlessly, but all of a sudden, you have lost language. You can barely breathe. Can barely form a coherent thought. Barely an incoherent one. Barely a -

“Would you like it? If I did that, bonita?”

You whimper. You actually whimper, as he sits there, coolly holding your face in his broad palm, caressing you with the pad of his thumb. Behaving as though he’s an innocent thing and yet making you feel like this.

“I would not be. Opposed to. That,” you muddle out, barely, your voice trembling with need. An insistent pulse between your legs, causing you to press them tightly up against one another, just for a morsel of relief. “But… you. Ohhh.” His thumb brushes over your cheek. Towards your mouth. “Y-you don’t have to. Um.” Skims your lower lip. “Ahhh. Do. Anything you. Uh. Don’t want. To.” The pad of his thumb pushes inside, just deep enough for the tip of your tongue to meet it as he grazes over you. “Uhhh.”

Richard nods in understanding, and when your tongue fleets out to taste the tip of him, his eyes darken deliciously, pupils lust-blown.

You, meanwhile, are vapour. Your breath is ragged. Your arousal is soaking through your dress. You can feel it. Feel your own slick, a mess on your thighs.

And yet, you can tell there is more he wants to say, so you encourage him to go on. “Richard?” you plead.

“I... I want it to be perfect for you. You’re so perfect. But I...” his moustache twitches as he sucks his own lips between his teeth. His hands drop dejectedly into his lap, and he can’t meet your eyes, fixing his gaze on a spot of carpet. “I want to. So much. I‘m aching for you.”

Then what? You search his beautiful big eyes, reaching up to gently tuck a cute, hanging strand of curls away from his eyes and urging him to go on.

He reaches behind his head, to self-consciously stroke the nape of his neck. “The last woman I was with... It wasn’t... She didn’t like the moustache. And she... she said I was... too big.”

Fuck.

Your hand drops from his face into your lap, and your jaw slackens in shock as you let his words sink in. Meanwhile, his face becomes tinged again with that undertone of crimson you’re becoming rather familiar with.

Too big?

“Fuck, Richard,” you breathe -or, rather, can barely breathe- as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes, nervously, humbly awaiting your reaction. He really has no idea what he’s doing to you, does he? How perfect he is? You can feel the heavy pulse of desire throbbing between your legs once more - even more so now. A slow-crawling heat under your skin.

Can he really be so... endowed?

Can he really be so shy and so hot at the same time? (Yes, apparently, he can.)

You gulp. You take in a breath to speak and then literally say nothing. You consider, so help you, burying your face in the mattress and silently screaming. But, somehow, you hold it together.

“That’s. Wow. Well, we can definitely figure that out. Together, Richard. Can work around… That,” you reassure, your blood rushing in your ears, your hand slowly trailing back up his thigh. “Will you… will you let me take care of you?”

Looking reassured, he nods. He smiles softly. His eyes ardent as he looks at you.

You reinstate your hand on to his sturdy thigh, and you begin your slow, languorous crawl up towards his crotch, following the seam of his pants like a trailing spark along a fuse line. As you inch further, his eyes flutter shut and he groans when you reach the junction of his legs, lightly ghosting your fingers along his straining zipper.

“Can I... see?” you purr. “Are you hard for me, sweet man? Can I take you out of your pants?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Yes. Please.”

You proceed when Richard eagerly shifts position for you, parting his thighs for you and leaning back on his hands so that you’re able to unbuckle his belt, and to slowly release his zipper.

You’re playing really well at having any shred of self-control left, for his sake, but in reality, you’re a trembling, wet mess, overtaken by a furious, barrelling need. You simply can’t take this. Shit, you wonder if you will actually, very literally, be able to take this. Take him. Still, you certainly don’t want to stop, and so, with Richard’s cooperation you tug his jeans and his boxers down on his hips, and, biting down on your lip, you release his proud length.

“Fuck,” you say, almost inaudibly as you drink the sight of him in.

He wasn’t exaggerating. He is big. He’s long, but perhaps not the longest you’ve ever had – a fact you are honestly thankful for. He certainly is thick too – especially thick, his contoured head ruddy and gleaming for you. Launched on an urgent breath, you ask if you can touch him, and when he encourages you, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, his length warm and heavy in your hand. He fills the circumference of you in such a pleasing way, hard and velvety and thickly veined. He eagerly strains against you; engorging even further against your touch.

“What do you think?” he asks shyly, intently watching your fingers tease and skim and squeeze him. “Can you work with this?”

“You’re perfect. Fuck, Richard. This is the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen.”

“You mean it?” he asks, modest as ever.

“Every inch of you is perfect, sweet man.” You want to prove it to him. And you know exactly how. “D-do you… Do you want to feel how wet you’ve made me? How much I want you, Richard?”

“Please,” he begs hoarsely, his voice quaking, desire knotting his brows, and, you stretch out on the bed beside his already half-reclined form, the mattress dipping beneath you. Eagerly, you return his hand to your thigh, where his girthy fingers resume their slow path towards your core. This time though, Richard doesn’t stop. Positioning himself, propped on one elbow, he turns on to his side, his other hand travelling under your dress - inching, achingly slow, all the way up your thigh. He traces a warm, steady, torturously slow pressure along your clothed slit, over your aching nub, until he reaches the top hem of your panties -silly, silky little things- and then, he pushes the elastic hem aside, dipping his two, thick middle fingers down into your folds, gliding effortlessly through your slick until he curls towards your entrance.

You shudder from his touch, submitting an open-mouthed moan to him already as he skims through your wetness, his half-bared cock twitching against his soft, rounded stomach in response to the feel of you. The sound of you.

He pulses and swirls his fingers up and down over your heat, simply gathering and playing with your arousal, and you can imagine what he is feeling beneath his fingers. You can hear your own wetness, your sweet nectar aiming to sucker him in.

It works.

“Please. Can I taste you?” he asks, in that wrecked voice again- the one which ends you.

Your eyes traverse him, hungrily. His mouth tipped open, needy breaths circling beneath that flourishing facial hair. His forearm exposed and veins popping as he works his fingers against you. His cock. Fuck. His delicious cock looks so hard and ruddy, the head of him practically crimson -fit to burst already- and the man must need some relief, and yet all he can think of is sinking his mouth to you? Not that you’re complaining, mind you.

What most gets you though – still – are his eyes. Those gentle, heat-infused, heavy-lidded, lust-laden, adoring, cola-coloured eyes.

Still, you throw your head back, as his fingertips continue to haphazardly explore your folds, your hips bucking and writhing readily, messily against his fingers. “You… ohhhh. You don’t have to do what your buddy said, you know? Only if you want.”

“I want to. I want to taste you, please. Hermosa. Please.”

Fuck, those beautiful brown eyes.

You never imagined you would end the evening with this handsome man begging to eat you out, and you don’t have it in you to resist, not even for a moment. Instead, you nod eagerly, scrambling to spread your thighs for him and hitching your dress up over your hips, opening for him with slick and eager hinges. Richard’s exposed member gleams for you, peeking out from his jeans, and each item of his clothing now looks like it is an impediment; however, he wastes no time on that. Instead, he simply begins a slow, deliberate peel of your panties down to your ankles, and, as you expel a string of affirmatives and pleas into the air, he sinks his face towards your heat.

You weren’t ready for it. You weren’t ready for the feel of his supple, eager tongue writhing against you, nor the feel of his lips engulfing you, his moustache scraping your sensitive skin ever so slightly as he munches over your clit. You weren’t wrong either - he is definitely, unequivocally not afraid to make a mess of himself. At all. In fact, you wonder if he has forgotten this is for you, as he truly does seem intent on tasting you, drinking from you as though he’s slurping on a milkshake, or relishing a cherry sucker. You think he might drink you dry. Or, you would think so, except you are getting wetter, as his assured, quietly confident tongue laps and probes and licks at everywhere it counts.

“Unnng. Dulce. Como duraznos en almíbar,” he praises into your heat.

Sweet. Like peaches in syrup.

You mewl for him. You writhe yourself desperately, embarrassingly, but this man moans eagerly into your heat as if he’s gaining as much pleasure from this as you are. That can’t possibly be true, however. It can’t be true because you are positively alight with ecstasy. You are experiencing such an abundance of it that you can scarce handle it, pleasure both balling and knotting tightly at your centre, and zipping out to every extremity. Your body bows and bucks under the weight of it and at the same time soars, weightless, to another plane.

When you think you couldn’t possibly take any more, Richard’s thumb begins a slow circle of your entrance, tracing around you. Dipping in to you. When his thumb slips in to fully puncture your heat, your juices spill over him, like you truly are a ruined peach, your fists clenching wildly in the sheets. You are his fruit. His ruined, ravaged fruit, existing and perishing only on his tongue. Coming to life and ending when he tastes you.

“Fuck, Richard!” you exclaim, as your peak threatens to overtake you so soon, and you worry that the sound was too weak for him to hear it; however, the man is apparently attentive as ever, even when he’s lost in between your thighs. He stops immediately, lifting his pretty eyes to yours, running his hands up and down along your quivering legs, trailing his fingers reverently over your mound and your patch of hair.

“You’re shaking, bonita,” he says, sounding awed.

“F-feels too good. But I want you inside me. I need you. Please. Will you – W-will you undress and lie down for me?”

It’s all you want. He is all you want. And you can’t explain why, but when you do fall apart for him, you need it to be together. Perhaps, so that when you unravel, you can bind yourself to him. You will tie those knots so tightly, you think, that they will not come undone.

In response to your request, Richard looks positively wrecked with need -and still a little nervous- but he obliges you, and your eyes keenly watch him as he slowly relinquishes his clothes. First his lower half, jeans kicked off to the floor. Then his shirt. He hesitates, when it comes to his white undervest. He looks so appealing in it that you wouldn’t mind if he kept it on; and yet, you are endlessly pleased when he peels it over his head, revealing his smooth chest and stomach and arms to you, your hungry eyes wandering over his form.

“Mmm. Gorgeous man,” you praise, rolling onto all fours with a surging, tidal wave of desire, trailing kisses and skimming your hot, wet mouth all the way down his bared torso as he kneels on the bed. He tastes faintly of sweat; salt on your tongue.

“Tell me what you want, Richard.”

“I… I need to feel your skin. Feel all of you,” he pleads hoarsely, and so, you follow his lead, tugging your dress over your head, and, with a ravenous, seductive stare, slowly releasing yourself from your bra. Richard’s jaw actually goes slack as he takes in the sight of all of you, entirely bared for him, the word “wow” gently suspiring from the pillow of his lips.

You smile as you guide him on to his back, and, tucking your body into his side, propped on one elbow, your hand smooths over his chest as you kiss him deeply. You taste yourself on him, a sweet, heady musk lingering on his moustache; and then, your hand traverses his chest and soft stomach, inching closer to where you crave. His body shivers under your hand as your fingertips stroke him at a spot where he’s evidently a little ticklish. He half-giggles, but the sound transforms quickly into a stuttered moan as your reach his arousal, a single finger circling the head of him.

Your fingers have barely so much as grazed him there and his cock is twitching, his hips bucking in search of your hand and his shapely chin tilted up towards the sky.

“Fuck. Are you sensitive there, baby?” you purr, and, as your fingers curl gently around him again, he nods vigorously – desperately- his expression almost tortured and his arms pinned by his sides.

“Yes, Ma’am. It feels so good when you touch me. Please. Please don’t stop.”

He shivers again -in a whole new way- as your thumb swirls, gingerly, spreading the glistening pearl of precum around the head of him.

You believe the man – that you make him feel good. He expels a breathy, gasping moan, or a tortured half-chuckle every time you so much as brush him. His might even be the most sensitive cock you’ve had, you think, and you watch, enraptured, as his pleasure plays out over his face, his hands fisting into the sheets at his sides as his body writhes for you. Still, you want more. You are greedy for him. Want to feel him everywhere.

“Can I take you in my mouth, Richard?”

“Do you want to?” he asks, and you nod, slinking cat-like down the bed, until you are in position, your mouth settling over his cock.

“You look delicious,” you purr, and when he pleads with you, you dip your head, your tongue laving out to encircle him in a wet, writhing embrace. He’s moreish here too, and so, you sink your lips down around his straining mass. He’s big, and he stretches your capabilities. You can’t even take all of him right away, but you give it your best effort as he moans beneath you.

“Unngg. No-one has ever fit so much,” he praises in disbelief as you take him deeper, humming around him, your head bobbing languorously over his shaft. Richard bucks his hips up ever so gently into your mouth - very careful not to drive into you further than you can take him. His hands come to rest tenderly on your head too, and his fingers smooth so delicately over your hair - reverently even. He doesn’t make any move to grab you to push you down on him- even if you might like that, or he might like that, at a later stage. Right now, you are more than content with this rare, unparalleled gentleness. This delicate, tender joy.

With relish, you continue. He makes such pretty sounds when you have him under your tongue, and yet, for how sensitive he is you are certainly impressed with his stamina. After a particularly deep bob down on to him, you surge off his length, using your hand to rub your slick into him as you look up at him, finding you have him transfixed.

“Need you inside of me, Richard. Can I get on top of you?”

This ache between your legs is becoming untenable.

“Unngg. Want to be inside of you so badly, bonita. Are you ready for me?”

Indicating your readiness, you shift yourself to straddle his hips, your core practically dripping over him as you settle your arousal over his. You writhe him along your folds, coating him in your juices, before rising up on your knees. You have to rise a little higher than you’re used to, to reach the tip of him, and eagerly you settle the blunt pressure of his ruddy, gleaming head at your entrance. You can barely steady yourself in position as your thighs and core tremble for him, in mere anticipation of him filling you. You are grateful when Richard’s hands come to lightly grip the meat of your hips -steadying you, supporting you a little- thumbs caressing your soft spots.

You tug in a breath as you prepare to spear yourself on him, the air faltering in your lungs as you pause where you are, just for a moment, Richard looking up adoringly from under you.

“Soñé contigo por tanto tiempo,” Richard whispers, barely audible. I have dreamed of you for so long. You’re not sure whether it is his sincere, heartfelt words igniting this pleasure within you or the slow inch and drag of your wet heat down his thick, veined shaft. Likely both, but either way, you know you want more.

“Uhhh. Slow. Slow, bonita,” he groans, as you begin to sink all the way down on him, his steady hands guiding you, now cupping your ass, staccato breaths escaping his parted lips as you engulf him. You take him, slowly, gradually, feeling him inch by inch as his girth and his length stretch you open. As you take him to his base, all the way, the full weight of you settling on his hips, Richard’s eyes practically roll back into his head. “God, it feels so good inside you. Can you take me like this?”

Your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip and you nod, stilling as you adjust to his size. He’s a lot, but it’s a pleasant kind of pressure as he strains against your walls and all your sweet spots. “Can you… take a little bit more, hermosa?” Fuck, how does he have even more to give?

“Say stop if it’s too much,” Richard pleads. “Promise?” When you nod, Richard slowly plants his hands on your hips and pulls you down on to him, just a little, as he bucks his hips up, ever so gently. You cry out, your face contorting in disbelief and your head arcing to the sky as Richard fills you to your limit. Meanwhile, Richard is studying your face with gentle concern, feeling it out, checking you are comfortable, letting you slowly reconfigure your insides to the shape of his girth and length. He’d never hurt you. He’d simply never.

And, even though he has filled you all the way up, it feels so good.

Richard stills under you, until you are ready. His fingers trail tenderly over your thighs and belly and breasts. Over the mound of you. Your legs are shaking, folded and clamped down around his hips, and you’re not sure that your weakened limbs have the strength to allow you to rise on his length. But damn it, you will give it a valiant try.

“I need to move,” you beg, even though you are in the position of control, and Richard looks up at you with big pretty eyes, and God, he’s buried in you that you can feel him all the way in your guts. You gasp, whimper, as, gingerly, you rise up, feeling the fullness and drag of him against your walls as you start working and undulating against him, feeling out all the angles which feel best and…

Fuck there are no bad angles.

As you melt, become molten, Richard is your stiffness and he gives form to your boneless, bodiless flesh. You are full, all the way up. You are so full and it could feel urgent and dirty, having his cock deep in you like this, but it… doesn’t. It feels… Fuck. It just feels…. right. You can only describe it as a caress, as he comes to be held safely and tightly inside you, and you begin to move slowly, wanting -somehow- to imbue each drag of him over your walls with the care and affection you feel for him. The adoration you feel so deeply; as deeply as he’s buried in you. Deeper.

“Richard,” you plead, and you hinge forward at the hips, until your chest sinks down to his, your lips on to his lips, and as you undulate on his body you cling to him. Bury your face and your tongue and your hopes and your dreams in him, as though, if you plant them deep enough you can take root and call him home. As if you are a fruit and you need his ground to grow.

In turn, he holds you, arms wrapped around you, fingers caressing your back, moustache scraping against your cheek, your lips, your neck as speaks honey into your skin, nourishing you with sweet, wholesome praises. And, when he’s content that you can take him, when you’ve shown him how you can, Richard starts moving too, working in tandem with you as your bodies roll and heave together.

You show him not only that you can, but how much you enjoy taking him. There are sounds of pulverised fruit, leaking over him, his cock pushing your juices out of you, as though there is no room inside you for anything else but him. And, as your tightness surrounds him, his arms surrounding you in turn, he bestows you with simple yet jewelled praises, calling you all the beautiful names under the sun in both of his tongues.

It’s sweet, and it’s slow, and you both embody tenderness, all caressing fingers and lips and sugary, grateful noises. Clutching hands and arms, drawing the other closer, deeper into this tangle. As he stokes you, you can barely stand these sensations. You can barely comprehend something so pure and so perfect.

He glides into you now, your slick everywhere, your sex increasingly loud and obscene as his beautiful cock is suckered into your wet, liquid heat. As you quicken your pace, Richard’s mouth settles over your shoulder, teeth lightly gripping your flesh as he stifles a moan into your skin. Then, his breaths are billowing gusts fanning over you, and you can guess that he is trying to bring his approaching release under control.

By this stage, you are overwhelmed, your legs spent and tremoring, and you can barely rise and sink on his length anymore for shaking. You have become weak for him, practically liquid from this slow, torturous build. You need Richard to be your stiffness and your joints. You need to be a fluid thing beneath him, or else, you think, you will perish.

“Lie down for me, bonita?” Richard whispers sweetly, so attuned to you, and, seeing, as you flounder with need, your full weight almost limp on top of him, that a change of position is in order.

He draws out of you with a shudder and rolls you, carefully, his own body following and chasing yours. Richard’s weight settles pleasantly on top of you this time, and, as you fumble into position you spread your legs for him, wrapping your thighs and arms tightly around him. You hold him close to you, your hands cradling his head, fumbling through his grizzled curls, now mussed wild tendrils falling around his face. Then, ever so gently, dipping to kiss you sweetly with that assured tongue, Richard re-sheaths himself, sliding easily inside you now with a divine caress of skin. He feels overwhelmingly good. He feels like heaven reaching inside you to kiss your soul and you pray out loud, your moans greeting his kiss.

The angle and the pressure like this is something else, the press of Richard’s soft stomach and hips and the driving of his cock pushing you pleasantly down into the mattress, your body given a little bounce from the springs which helps you set a perfect rhythm together. You are moments away from unravelling, already, as Richard pistons in and out of you, over and over, a glorious pressure building as you are wrapped up safely in the warmth and scent and sound of your sweet, perfect man. You are lost in the feel of him, both of you clammy and breathy and sheening with sweat as you writhe and combine; and fuck, you want to unravel. You need to.

You want to unravel so you can bind yourself to him with more than this ephemeral tangle of limbs. You want to get lost in him, in a way that makes you feel found.

“I’m going to lose it for you, Richard. It feels too good. I... can’t take it. I… It’s too much. I’m… Harder. Deeper. Please.”

Richard is spurred on by your praises, his pace becoming quickened, his thrusts slightly harder. He sinks into you with vigour, though not with any need to dominate or take from you, you think. Simply as an expression of the overwhelming need to be closer. Deeper. More held by you. To hold you in return. It’s not close enough, even as you hold him tightly in your arms. You are so greedy for him that you don’t think you could ever get enough, even as it’s all too much.

You moan. You moan like a sob. Like a plea. Like a prayer. And he shushes you. Soothes you. He shushes you while he’s buried so deep in you -burying himself so deep in you- that you are fucked wide open. There’s something so pure and yet so wicked about the contradiction of his gentleness and this huge, undeniable force in your centre. You feel that he has crawled so deep up in you that he can never leave; and you want it that way.

“Can you take a little more, hermosa?

Fuck. No. Can you? But, yes. Please, yes. God yes.

“Yes. Please, Richard. Give me everything. I want all of you inside me. Need you.”

He thrusts his hips forward. He’s been holding out on you.

“Ohhhh, just like that,” you plead, voice ragged and your moans escalating, both your bodies slick with sweat now as you tangle together. “Right there. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Richard! I need. Unnggg. Fuck. Need you deep inside me, just like that. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop!” You plead desperately with him -as if you even need to bargain- your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip and your hands reaching for him, tugging him closer to you as he drives his length into you over and over, pressing you harder into the mattress as you sucker him into your tightness.

His lips sink to the column of your neck, that moustache grazing you there, his own rich sounds of pleasure reverberating against your skin, his voice humming so close it sinks into your bones.

“N-never want to stop,” he gushes hoarsely into your skin. “Always want to be inside you- feel you wrapped around me, preciosa.”

His words are sincere. Earnest. And, with his words, and the repeated drag of his perfect cock, and his warmth enveloping you, you finally cry out, omitting a wracked, disbelieving moan as your pleasure pulses through you; toes curling, head thrown back, body jerking and spasming beneath him. This is an orgasm which keeps on giving, deep and strong; waves of bliss rolling through you whole body. A star bursting out from your centre. A flood. Quite literally a flood, intense and urgent and everywhere, and you look down at yourself. This is something else. Something more. A bigger heaven. You hear a new sound even, and you look down, realising that Richard’s cock has you squirting all over him, your release gushing and sloshing wet between your bodies as he continues to thrust into you, coaxing you through your peak and deepening your earth-shaking orgasm with every single movement.

“Ohhhh fuck... Richard-” you cry out, in what can only be described as awe, almost sobbing with ecstasy, your legs violently twitching and trembling as they wrap more tightly around him “-no-one’s ever made me do that before!”

Despite his gentleness, his control, this flood seems to overcome Richard too, and his thrusts become sloppy, as though he can barely stave off his release long enough to keep going, his body going near limp over you for a moment. You even swear he gets harder and bigger and deeper -if that was even possible- when he realises exactly what he made you do. When he realises that you soaked him. Flooded him. Your liquid and your juices shining on his stomach and coursing down his sturdy thighs.

You worry for a moment- you wonder whether he minds or if he likes it, as your release coats his skin and the tangle of sheets, but you needn’t worry for anything more than a moment. In response to your deluge, Richard looks at you as though you are a divine being, and, if you thought he seemed dishevelled with need earlier, this is something else. He’s undeniably into it. Indeed, as he takes in the sight of you below him, bared and writhing in ecstasy amidst a tangle of wet sheets, he stutters moans into the air, his thrusts become more determined, his cock pumping into you with refreshed vigour.

“N- never done that b-before?”

“No, Richard. Fuck. You made me-”

“-I’m going to make you do it again,” he purrs, and it is not a command at all. He never loses his characteristic gentleness. It is half a plea and half a promise, his sincere as ever. “Do it for me again, Bonita,” he coaxes, and he sounds thoroughly levelled by you. He sounds like he can’t get enough of you.

Fuck. You don’t know if you can...

“You can do it, baby. Please. Soak me again.”

You don’t think you can, until Richard is talking to you like that, with profuse, sugared pleas, and until he is hitting you exactly where you need, how you need, all over again.

You practically scream with it, weep with it, curse with it, sending a hoarse, high-pitched crescendo into the air, the keen punctuated by quickened, spent grunts Richard expels into the air with each deep, thick, purposeful thrust into you. You don’t think you’ve ever felt a more assured cock.

You don’t think you can, until-

When you gush over him a second time you are more prepared for it. Prepared enough to watch as you spill over him. Prepared enough to catch the positively awed, sunken expression which spreads over Richard’s face. To appreciate the sound of your release squirting over him and sloshing, wet in-between your bodies, liquid slapping against the roundness of his soft stomach as he thrusts into you faster; more urgently. This time -how can he help it- Richard comes undone with you; and, suddenly it seems everything is liquid, like a flood.

You can feel him fill you up, can feel his hot seed pulsing all the way from the base of him and coating your walls with thick ropes of cum as his hips stutter, burying his length into your heat as deep as he can go. He goes practically limp on top of you, hips collapsing into yours, and you feel him filling you -once again- to your limit, as the motion drives him just a little deeper, just a little closer. Meanwhile, you twitch and shudder and writhe and clench through your aftershocks with Richard still balls deep inside of you, barely able to comprehend the new heights of pleasure you have reached together. Awed, by the way your bodies are speaking like they’ve known each other for years too - despite that this is their first encounter.

There’s this wetness. This wetness everywhere; inside you, on you, under you, and for several moments you feel you too could be liquid, melting and pooling and coursing from the bed. Becoming vapour and evaporating from his hot, sweat-slickened skin. You might, if it wasn’t for Richard - his weight settled on top of you in a pleasing crush. His head settling in the crook of your neck, his length still inside you, his tongue laving to bury itself in your mouth too in a desperate, haphazard motion. He means to bury himself in all ways he can, you think, and you let him. You let him become your stone heart, as you are nothing but boneless, bodiless flesh; an oiled thing beneath him like pulverised, spent fruit - all your juices squeezed out.

You coil your limbs fluidly around him, and you engulf his sturdy form with your softness, holding him at the centre of you. Still buried -softening too- in your centre. Held in this intimate circle of your arms. Becoming the centre of your universe.

You bind yourself to him. You become his. His fruit.

Still panting, spent, hot, Richard rolls off you then, his stiffness gone and his body boneless now too, his stomach and his thighs sheening with a concoction of wetness. His smooth, hairless chest slick with sweat. He collapses beside you, but he immediately reaches for your hand and presses his body to your side. Immediately checks that you’re alright, as you truly become corporeal again, flitting down from heaven and into his arms; a conduit of heaven too, you think.

Now, what the… hold up a damn second. What did this sweet man just-

You gush. You gush for him in words now that the old relic of language and (almost) coherent thought has returned to you, your voice still breathy and discombobulated. “Richard. Richard? Richard! Fuck me. That was... I need you to know that was... Fuck. Phenomenal. I’ve never. In my life. I’ve never done that before. I’ve never... Oh my God. I can’t feel my face. Was that... good for you? Was it...? Fuck. Sweet man.”

Richard chuckles fondly at your near-incoherent babble of words, drawing you into his chest and cradling you like you are a precious thing – the most precious thing.

“It was perfect,” he whispers, satin soft, through a disbelieving breath, and his words make your heart flutter and your stomach tumble pleasantly. Richard’s soft sounds continue, as he whispers sweet names and gentle praises into your hair, kissing everywhere he can reach to punctuate his words, and smoothing his fingers in nonsense shapes over your skin. Hermosa. Bonita. Preciosa. “Everything was perfect. You’re so perfect. I’ve never... I’ve never had someone take care of me so well, princesa. Thank you.”

You can hear it - the flood of emotion in his voice, and, at his admission, his praises, the rush, tears pool in your eyes. It seems he has yet more water to drain from you as a patter of tears course over the bridge of your nose and settle in the hollow of his chest. However, it is not sadness, but joy, you realise. You are thoroughly overwhelmed by how held you feel. By how happy you feel. However, when your eyes brim over and you sniffle, Richard cranes his head down towards you, pulling you up from him so your eyes can meet his.

He looks momentarily devastated. “What’s wrong? Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“No, sweet man. Not at all. It was perfect for me too,” you are quick to reassure, and, as you shuffle on to your stomach, propping yourself up to gaze into his eyes, Richard runs a solitary thumb across your cheek. You ache with the tenderness of his touch. “Just... I’ve never had anyone take care of me like that either,” you admit, and his eyes shine gently at you, misting over with pure, unadulterated adoration. “I’ve never felt so-”

Loved.

Loved, you realise you want to say, but that would be ridiculous, right? This is your first date.

Who said anything about love?

Still, you realise that is the truth of things. That is exactly how he made you feel. Richard was so tender with you, so present, so sensual, so connected. So… right. Had you made him feel this way too? Will he let you take care of him again?

You want to. You so desperately want to. Want to protect him, care for him, laugh with him. Rest your head on the soft pillow of his stomach as he holds you close to him.

He has taken care of you so well, and you don’t want him to stop.

Please. Don’t stop.

Still, as you silently contemplate all of this, Richard simply bundles you firmly into his chest. if you are unable to find the right words, at least he is able to find the gesture. And so, the need to clean up forgotten, the cloying wetness of your skin and the sheets seemingly not bothering him, you languish against him, safe and warm and held.

“Did it feel good?” he asks, after a few moments of comfortable silence. “When you… um…?”

“Squirted all over your cock? Hell yes.” You interject, able to find the words for that at least, filling in the blank for him and laughing gently against his skin. You weren’t able to turn the act into poetry, not yet, your words clumsy and crude, but you didn’t exactly need to. The whole act felt like poetry already. Poetry written on your bones. Etched into your heart.

When he flooded you.

“Maybe you can write about it,” he suggests, and you can hear the cheeky, playful smile dancing on his lips.

“Richard Alonso Muñoz,” you scold, teasingly, your fingers dancing equally playfully over his smooth chest. “Is that what you want me for? You want to be immortalised in poetry? I don’t think you’re as innocent as you let on, are you?”

“I’m not?” he chuckles warmly.

“You read erotic poetry and trashy romance novels… and you fuck like that.”

Make love, like that.

You still cannot move beyond crude words, but in your heart, he makes the words come easily.

“Truthfully, it’s... not always like that,” Richard admits. “It’s… only like that with you.”

Once again, his sincerity has you speechless, and it is all you can do to hold him close to you, as tightly as you can, your eyes squeezing closed and a soft smile tipping your lips. He holds you in return. Holds you in this perfect moment.

“It really did feel good though. It was… I can’t even describe it. My body feels likes a… fucking… limp, wet noodle.”

The laugh he emits at your words is music. “Wet noodle? Aren’t you supposed to be a poet, darling?” Oh, he’s teasing you now? This sweet man is teasing you?

You gasp, mock affronted, and jab him playfully in the stomach with your finger, in the spots you remember he is ticklish. “Rude!” you exclaim, and he jiggles joyously against you. When the laugh dissipates, leaving only smiling, appled cheeks, silence once again enfolds you like a warm, comfortable blanket.

“I was thinking,” he begins softly, after a few moments of laying together. “We could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. The one with the cider donuts. We could take Lady.”

You can’t answer right away, can’t find the words, and it is all you can do to tug in a slow breath. Your hesitation evidently has Richard worrying again, and he rushes to fill in the blank space with his own insecurities. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice brittle. “I assumed... because I want to, but... but maybe you’re not thinking that you want to see me again...”

You pull back. Urgently moving so that you are face-to-face with him on the pillow, his body following yours on to his side too, like a magnet. You cup his face again, with your tender, open hand. You look him in the eyes. Those sweet, expressive, cola-coloured eyes. Your heart is shining for him, and it feels rubbed until it gleams.

You examine his tentatively hopeful expression. You get the sense that this man falls hard. Falls quickly. He’s in love with love, after all. You, on the other hand, love slow. And so, even as it breaks your heart that you can’t yet say the words aloud, you deflect. “You want to know what I’m thinking, Richard?” He nods. “I’m still thinking about how you turned me into a wet noodle. You should be the smuggest Adonis this side of Midtown - how on earth are you playing that one so cool?”

Richard’s face pinches a little, his gaze dropping from yours, lashes fluttering.

“It was perfect,” he agrees, in a small voice. “But, I guess, I’m not as… surprised as you are.” You shake your head slightly, in mild confusion. Wanting him to elaborate. “I always imagined you would be perfect.” He blinks shyly, and attempts a masking smile. “I don’t know if you thought the same way about me.”

A terrible lump swells in your throat. Your chest tightens.

It’s time to speak. To make your words a little more like poetry.

But it’s scary. It’s hard. You know that now.

“That’s not quite it, sweet man,” you begin. Realisation sinking heavily through you, drawing your brow down with it. Richard searches your face, encouraging you to go on, expression open; pretty eyes big. And, although the words are hard to say, they are easier. The words are easier around him. “Honestly, Richard? I think, you’ve always been perfect. I just didn’t want to realise it. I didn’t want to notice you,” you confess, your voice cracking with emotion.

“Why?” Richard encourages, a knot in his brow now too as he smooths his thumb earnestly over your cheek, breath bated. His touch is like the path of a match against its counterpart box; it is a little thing, which threatens to ignite something far larger.

“I…” you sigh out some of your tension and nerves with a billowing exhale. “I suppose… because I knew. That as soon as I saw you, there would be no going back. I must have known deep-down, that if I saw you, that I… I could love you so quickly.”

Richard swallows. “Is that… not something you want? Love?”

“It didn’t used to be. I… didn’t used to believe I deserved it,” you reveal, tears balling in your eyes as all of your deepest fears and secrets loosen and rattle inside your chest, gradually being shed and needing to find their exit.

“And now, preciosa?” Richard asks, gingerly smoothing a hand over the crown of your head, dipping a moustached kiss to the centre of your forehead. “What do you believe?”

Now? Now, it is different, and a cautious smile slowly claims your lips - even as your cheeks are wet by tears.

“I’m thinking, Richard Alonso Muñoz, that… That nothing would give me greater pleasure than accompanying you to the farmer’s market.”

Your words sound flippant, perhaps insignificant, but you can tell, from the way Richard’s eyes pool with a subtle, brewing joy, that your true meaning is abundantly clear to him. So, in mutual celebration your lips press together in a crush, smile lines radiating across his face. When he pulls back though, a gentle, playful heat seemingly overtakes him. “Are you sure about that, bonita?” he asks in a fond, teasing tone. As his chest shakes in a rich, gleeful chuckle, you perfectly catch his meaning too.

“Okay, okay,” you concede, with a giggle, as he slants his hips forward, pressing his already hardening length against your thigh. “Maybe there is one thing that could give me more pleasure.” You tick-up a suggestive eyebrow. “Want to remind me?”

“Please,” he purrs, just as broken with need as before. “My beautiful, wet little noodle.”

At his ridiculous new pet name -which you only have yourself to blame for, honestly- you squeal brightly, expelling musical peals of laughter into his open-mouth as he surges to kiss you, the act imbued with deep affection. He kisses you until the laughter pleasantly dissipates, your bodies suffusing with a resurgent heat, as you tangle together all over again.

As Richard holds you, every so tenderly, you are overcome. Your loneliness? It has never felt so far away. You hadn’t realised how much you needed somebody to love. You hadn’t realised that someone was him. You hadn’t wanted to admit it. But, oh, you are realising it now. And, you are never going to forget it.

“Kiss me again,” you plead into the air.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

Everywhere.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he responds, affirmatively, and with relish, you feel his moustache graze the column of your neck. Somehow, you don’t think you’ll ever tire of that feeling.

As his lips crush to your again, you note how he tastes. A combination of your sweet, nectar-like juices, and the subtle tang of sweat he has kissed from your sex-flushed skin. He tastes like a salted peach. He is pure poetry, you think. You’ve never tasted anything quite as sweet, and you’ve never experienced such a flood. And, now that your deluge of joy is through -your happiness instead streaming steadily- it no longer feels heavy. It no longer weighs you down.

You want to love him, and be loved; and, you will.

What’s more. You deserve every bit of it.

It’s the little things. One by one. And then, suddenly, there it is. There’s everything; in your arms.

#Richard Alonso Muñoz #richard alonso munoz x reader #the letter room #Richard Alonso Muñoz x reader #Oscar Isaac

364 notes · View notes

deannaroxannewrites · 3 years

Text

Tropetember Day 7 - Mutual Pining / Requited/Unrequited Love / Angst with a happy ending

My boys

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: Teen and up

TW: Angst (all of the angst), Angst with a happy ending, Witness Protection

AN: Day 7 of @tropetember. Another Hotch story that could be expanded into a small series. Enjoy the angst (and fluff because I CANNOT HELP MYSELF)

You've been looking to spending a quiet day with your boys, until a phone call turns your world upside down.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.6k

You were in the middle of pottering around the kitchen putting your groceries away when the phone rang.

Glancing at it, you realise it’s Aaron. Why would he be ringing you right now? Jack’s soccer game wouldn’t have been finished for very long and they usually got a treat before coming to visit you.

You answer with a smile, you were looking forward to spending the day with your boys.

“Hi sweetie, what can I do for you?” You ask.

Aaron says your name and his voice shakes. You instantly stop what you’re doing. Something is wrong. Something really bad is happening. You can tell.

“Scratch.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Scratch was at Jack’s game.”

You gasp and panic floods through you.

“Is he ok? Are you both ok? He didn’t get to either of you did he?”

"No, he didn't."

There's a pause and you feel your heart start to calm. At least they're OK, although you can't figure out what's happening. Unfortunately, your relief at them both being unharmed is immediately destroyed.

"Jack and I are being put into witness protection."

You hear the glass you were holding smash as it connects with the marble floor of the kitchen. It's funny, you feel like a spectator in your own body. The only other thing you're aware of is that you feel like you can't breathe.

Aaron calls your name a few times but you're hyper fixated on one thing he says. 'Jack and I.' Not we. Why hadn't he said we?

"Can I not come too?" Your voice is small. Lost. "If this madman is following Jack, he'll know who I am, Aaron."

You hear him exhale.

"I know. I tried to get the Marshals to offer you the choice of coming with us." You imagine he's scrubbing his hand down his face in frustration. "They said that, since Scratch's focus is the team, and I will no longer be around or know what's happening, you will no longer be at risk." He lets out a scoff.

Tears silently trace down your face. Your world was ending but, no matter how much you wanted to beg and scream and demand they stay, this was already a done deal. Jack's safety was the most important thing in the world and you wouldn't dare risk it for your selfish desires.

"OK." You take a moment to breathe and clear your throat. "Can you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Tell Jack I love him? Give him a big hug and kiss and tell him that I'll see him when this is over?"

That breaks him, and he quietly sobs out your name.

"You're going to be OK. Both of you. And I'll be here waiting." You take a shaky breath. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm putting everything into your name. I don't mind if you move into the apartment or if you rent it out and put everything in storage. Just try to hold onto the keepsakes and Jack's stuff."

"I've got it. Don't worry. It's in good hands."

"The very best." He gives a shaky laugh. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Aaron. God, I love you so much."

You both go quiet, knowing you don't have long until the Marshals disconnect his number.

"I can't ask you to wait for me." He tells you. It makes a sob break through your restraint. "That would be selfish of me. Just know that I love you. And, once this is over, we'll see you again."

"I know, it's OK. I love you."

"I…."

The line goes dead and, like the glass spread across the floor, you break.

---------

The weeks following are hazy in your memory. You imagine it's not totally dissimilar to a bereavement. After all, you'd discussed seeing each other again, but you both knew that there was a chance it may not happen. Scratch had been evading law enforcement for months with ease. He was watching Jack and no-one even knew. It didn't bode well.

Time continued to pass. Eventually, from around the 6th month mark, people started offering to set you up with friends/relatives/colleagues. You weren't getting any younger they kept saying. You can't miss out on the rest of your life.

It was something you were well aware of. You were only a couple of years younger than Aaron so you were moving past your prime, particularly if you wanted to have kids of your own. You couldn't do it though. It just felt wrong when Aaron was out there alone somewhere with a new name and identity. How could you move on? Instead, you focussed on work, even getting a promotion for your efforts.

You didn't move into the apartment, you couldn't bring yourself to. You and Aaron had been discussing moving, and potentially purchasing a proper house with a garden Jack play soccer in in the future, mere days before everything happened. It was just another thing that didn't feel right. Instead, you moved the important things out to Dave's basement. He had the space and it would be much safer than a storage locker. It also helped sooth his guilt over the fact that none of the team were supposed to have much contact with you to try and keep you off Scratch's hotlist.

Since you didn't need the income from the apartment, you instead approached a charity who worked with women and families escaping domestic violence. You'd offered them the apartment at a reduced rate for short term lets that rolled month by month, with potential to go up to a year. The plan was to give people time to get back on their feet and regain their independence in a safe and secure environment.

You'd had two small families in so far. Both had moved on after securing jobs with good salaries and new full time accommodation. They were both keeping you updated about how they and their kids were doing, and you were happy that you were able to help them even just a little. It was empty at the moment and you were busy organising some basic maintenance and were going to repaint some of the rooms to freshen it up.

You'd just been on the phone with Derek, who'd offered to do the small repair jobs you needed doing, when someone knocked at the door.

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was nearly 9pm, you paused and texted Derek as a safety precaution. It was probably nothing, but better safe than sorry.

The knock sounded again, a little more urgent this time, and you hustled to the door to open it.

When you realised who was on the other side, your knees gave way.

There in front of you, looking almost exactly the same as when he left, was Aaron with Jack peeking out from behind him.

Realising what was happening, he reached out to steady you and you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing as if your life depended on it.

He held you just tightly, rocking from side to side until you pulled back. You lower yourself into a crouch and hold your arms out to Jack, who collides with you with enough force to knock you on your behind.

You both laugh as you land on the floor, a light, carefree combination of sounds that tinkles around the room as you press kisses all over his face. Aaron bobs down to join the hug before helping you both to your feet and guiding you all to your sofa.

"I'm so glad you're both back" you tell them. Jack is snuggled into your lap and you're snuggled into Aaron. Declarations of love pass easily and frequently between the three of you and it fills you with warmth.

You spend the evening catching up with them. Apparently Scratch had been caught at the end of last week but it had taken this long for word to get through to the Marshals and for them to organise transferring them home.

Jack tells you over dinner (pizza, Jack picked) about his school and all the things he's learnt since the last time he saw you. Aaron tells you about his cover job as a law clerk in the backwater town of Nowhere, Iowa. In return, you tell them about how you got promoted at work and what you've done with the apartment in their absence. Aaron's eyes shine with pride as you explain the cause and you know it's one that's close to his heart.

Before you know it, it's almost midnight and Aaron is suggesting they go back to the hotel that they've been set up in for the next few days. You won't allow that though. They'll be lucky if they're allowed to leave your sight ever again.

You all brush your teeth together in the bathroom while joking around before getting sorted and all clambering into your bed together.

Wrapped in Aaron's arms, with Jack tucked up against your side, you finally feel whole for the first time since that dreaded phone call.

"My boys," you gently sigh. "I love you both".

Aaron presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and you let the sound of their breathing calm you as you fall into the deepest nights sleep you've had in forever.

Even better, they're still there when you wake up.

#Tropetember #fanfiction #Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #angst #angst with a happy ending #witness protection #jack hotchner

64 notes · View notes

moonflowerdamie · 2 years

Note

First off, HI! Hello! How are ya? Ronance truther here <3 you asked so i have some questions for you: 1. Otp 2. Controversial notp 3. Fic rec (ship of choice) 4. Hc's (ship or otherwise) 5. Have you read and/ or listened to rebel Robin? 6. Fave character(s) 7. Hot takes?

I'm new here so I apologize if I'm asking something you've answered before (if at all lol) and do not be afraid to gush! I'd love to read it.

hello!!!! i’m ok, i’ve got my exams on at the moment so i’m a little stressed about that, but otherwise pretty good, how are you? good to hear from a fellow ronance truther😌

OTP: gosh there are loads haha. if i had to narrow it down, my all time favs are dani and jamie from the haunting of bly manor, kai and amelia from grey’s anatomy, leah and fatin from the wilds and god i’m such a sucker for ronance atm so probably them too <3

Controversial NOTP: hmm that’s a tough one. there are ships that i don’t particularly like but not really ones that i hate if that makes sense? i suppose my least fav canon ships are jim and lee from gotham (the man is a walking red flag and the whole ship in general is underwhelming), bruce and natasha from the mcu (seriously marvel, why????) and meredith and nick from grey’s anatomy.

Fic Rec: oooh there are loads of good ones. here are some of my personal favs

-and she taught me a lesson alright by obsetress (damie)

-domesticated dogs by coldmackerel (villaneve)

-forever and more by blkmgck (bishova)

-roommate problems by ultraviolentluv (ronance)

-five times max brews an americano by gaps42 (elmax)

these are all amazing, everyone should go check these out!!!

HC’s: again, i have lots so i might make a bigger post about this for the different ships and characters, but here are some of my favs:

-dani knows all the words to ‘whatta man’ (even the rap part) and the first time jamie discovered this was on a road trip to california when the song came on the radio. dani sang along the whole time and jamie was so beyond shook. when the song finished, she had to pull over just so she could kiss dani senseless.

-after the island, leah wakes up with nightmares almost every night. she dreams about being back there, in that hellish place, with no rescue coming for them. she wakes up screaming, and after a few weeks her parents stop coming in at night to check on her. to calm down, she reads (not jeff’s book, no way). she particularly like to read kids books, because the fantasy and the joy of it all takes her away from her world for a moment. if that doesn’t work to calm her down, she calls one of the girls. sometimes shelby, because that girl’s voice is magical at preventing panic, sometimes rachel (and who knew they’d become such good friends?), but most of the time, she calls fatin. and fatin always picks up. always. leah doesn’t even need to say anything, fatin just let’s her breathe on the line until the sobs start, and then fatin will mumble a gentle ‘i’m on my way’. fatin sneaks in through leah’s window and joins leah in bed. they’ll spoon most nights this happens and they never ever talk about it in the morning.

-robin, after getting closer with the whole party, starts to figure out there’s something going on between mike and will. she doesn’t say anything, just sits back and watches as will pines and mike tries to be subtle about his enormous crush on his best friend. she secretly theorises about who will ask who out, and when will finally tells mike about his feelings, she pats herself on the back and seriously considers a career in matchmaking (after all, there’s still el and max to think about. those two are about as subtle as nancy wheeler is, who pretends she cannot stand robin, but has perpetually red cheeks in her presence and gets caught staring every other day).

Rebel Robin: ah no! i haven’t listened to the podcast yet, but i really want to! i’ve just been swamped with revision atm and tbh i keep forgetting it exists haha.

Fav Characters: again, so many to choose from haha. at the moment (because it changes like every week lol) it’s wanda maximoff (wanda maxiMOMMY😩), robin buckley, leah rilke, nell crain (baby🥺) and nancy wheeler.

Hot Takes: i’m not sure i have any? i’ll give it my best though, idk how controversial these are:

-mileven was cute for the first two seasons but it’s toxic now and they’d be better as friends.

-the whole pineapple on pizza debate is silly. nobody cares that much, people just like having something to argue about i think haha.

-straight girls kissing their friends at parties is fine, kiss whoever you want, but posting it on social media with captions like ‘lover’ or ‘wife’ is fetishising wlw and is just straight up lesbophobic. please don’t do it straight girls.

there ya go!!! thank you so much for this wonderful ask, friend!!!! have a great day <33

#moonflowerdamie’s asks #my asks #ronance #stranger things #elmax #bishova #leatin #the wilds #villaneve #damie #robin buckley #wanda maximoff

12 notes · View notes

sagemusesoutloud · 3 years

Text

Anti-Romantic, Part 2

(credit to the original owner of the image)

Character | Jaehyun x reader

Genre | nonidol!au, Mutual Pining, Slowburn, Fluff

WordCount | 2 K (bitesized for your convenience lol)

Author'sNote | I know this is kinda short, but I've decided not to rush the ending. I'm for sure not drag it out too much, but the slowburn reaaaally got to me and I ended up liking more than I orginially thought, so! I'll be back to post Part 3 tomorrow!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I know that you love me, It makes me deeply drunk

You’re like champagne, I shouldn’t do this

You’re at the base of the stairs to your apartment complex when he pulls up. The window on the passenger side rolls down.

“Hurry! I think they’re about to wash the machines at the ice cream shop!” he reaches over and opens your door while you grab your two bags and your pillow. You loved him, you really did, but he had the flattest, most uncomfortable pillows in the world in his guestroom.

“What? Why didn’t you stop there before picking me up? It’s not like you don’t know what I like.” You’re trying to move all your stuff to the backseat as he pulls away.

He sighs, “Thank you Jae, you’re so nice to pick me up,” he mutters. You’d be a bit apologetic if it wasn’t for the grin he was trying to hide. “I’ve already spent most of my ‘special’ day alone, thanks to someone who had to bail on me. I wanna spend the rest with you.”

“I knew it, it bothered you didn’t it?” You accused while fastening your seatbelt. “Next time, just tell me, I know it seems as if I know everything but I actually can’t read minds.” You knew he was just messing with you but for some reason his words cut at the guilty feeling you were trying to push away. “I actually got you something this time around, it’s why I wanted to see you before the day ended.”

Jae parks the car outside the shop before turning to you, “wait, did you really get me something?” You sigh, offended, “well, if you don’t want it or don’t like the idea of it, then I can still return it.”

“I just thought of you when I saw it…” crap, it’s too soon for you to go anywhere near that subject.

“That’s not what I meant,” he shakes his head, “It’s just been a while since we shared birthday gifts.” You look away from him. If he kept this up, you’ll start to regret calling him. Your hands were slightly shaking with the effort of not reaching over and pouring all your feelings into him. Unlike what you’re used to, he was dressed down with a simple t-shirt and grey sweats. He looked so soft, and domestic. You hated how much you loved it. At least for work, you had both always been professionally dressed, which was a nice barrier for your thoughts. If you dressed professional, you felt professional. This helped control your thoughts. But now that you were here with him, it was definitely harder to keep track of your thoughts.

Today was a day for him, not for you. You took in a deep breath as you turn to look at the shop. It looked like they were getting ready to start closing duties. Even if you weren’t looking at him, you could feel your heart race with acute awareness to his proximity in the small car. He was waiting for a response.

You open your door, “yeah well…if we don’t hurry, we won’t get those diabetes-inducing bombs you’re so fond of. And this all would have been for naught.” You needed to get a grip, fast.

I can clearly see the end, Worse than a hangover

It will be hard, Now, Just end it somewhere here

“I can’t believe you told them it was my birthday,” he groaned, pushing off his shoes at the door. You followed suit.

“Of course I did, it meant free goodies!” You raise the plastic bag with macarons. “It just sucks that they’re all valentine’s themed.” You make your way to the kitchen to put away the snacks you brought, dumping your overnight bag at the door of the guestroom. Maybe if you kept the heart-shaped gift out of sight, it won’t make you as nervous with him.

“I brought your fave by the way, chocolate covered almonds and gummy bears,” you call out. He appears in the kitchen, hair out of his way with a headband. Be still my heart, you thought. You decide to hyper-focus on placing some snacks on a plate to bring to the living room.

“So, what’s the plan?” He reaches over you to grab a water bottle from the fridge, brushing your hip with his front. No no no no no no no!

Was he teasing you? You knew that your face would give you away, you could feel how warm your ears and cheeks were. You hated how honest your face was, and it didn’t help that Jae knew you like the back of his hand. Maybe this is how he is nowadays? Flirty and confident? You’d be lying if you didn’t find it attractive, but not when his attention was only directed at you. You felt like you were slowly suffocating but even that wouldn’t stop the warm light that seemed to burst from your chest.

It seemed so easy to pretend you were closer to him, to pretend this happened all the time. That you were close enough to reciprocate his flirty actions.

“uh, em,” you clear your throat, “actually, I remembered you wanting to see that movie last time we hung out. I have it ready in my apple tv account.” You back away with the tray, “can you also grab me a water?” your throat was suddenly parched.

You settle in the couch, grabbing the throw blanket behind you. Any physical barrier you could place between you, you’d take it gratefully. “You remembered? That was almost three months ago, when the trailer came out.” He handed you your water and grabbed at the corner of the blanket nearest to him, covering himself with it and moving closer to you so that you both could fit under it.

“Jae, there’s another blanket on your side of the couch,” you wanted to feel embarrassed but you just felt an unexpected giddy feeling at him wanting to be near you. “Yeah but it’s my birthday and this blanket is my favorite,” he says as he pulls you closer and wraps his arm behind you on the couch.

“here, put in your credentials so we can start the movie,” he hands you the remote.

You suddenly thank your lucky stars that the movie was an action packed one and not a romantic one. You couldn’t help but sink further into his side, wanting to be comfortable. As the movie starts, he takes the remote from your hand and wraps your arm around him. “I’m cold, keep me warm,” he mutters. Oh sweet Jesus.

Back in the day, this wouldn’t have been something new. Your friends knew you were very heavy with the affectionate touches. A hug, sharing seats, even holding hands. You never shied away from it because it was part of how you showed your friends that you loved them. Some of your friends were also this way, so it was never weird. But now that you’re older, and now that it’s been a long long time since you’ve been close to someone else, the once innocent touches Jae was giving you felt like hot brands across your shoulders and under your arm. If you focused enough, you could feel his hard work at the gym in the way your softness gave way to the hard contours of his leg that pressed against yours and how your shoulder leaned against his chest.

This was going to be a long movie.

You prayed that Jae wouldn’t ask you what the movie was about, you only had enough sanity to pay attention to the first fifteen minutes. It was all a blur after Jae pulled you half over on his lap, “you’re hogging the blanket, move over,” was the only excuse he gave.

Now, your legs were tangled with his and you sat almost on his lap, his arms encircling you from behind. He felt so soft and every little movement made your skin break out in goosebumps. You felt like a live wire about to explode.

“D-did you like it?” you started shifting to the side so you could face him but he held you tighter in place, resting his chin on your shoulder. “yeah, it was pretty good, we have to wait for the end credits though. I heard that they’re starting to give hints about The Eternals.”

“Did you like it?” he squeezes your middle.

Did you? You’re not sure, but you sure as hell loved the attention you were getting for the past two and half hours. “Yeah, all Marvel movies are great,” you finally concede.

“Wanna watch another one? You can pick this time,” his hand started tracing through your arm as you waited for the stupid end scene that was taking too long to start. Is it getting hot in here?

“Sure, whatever you want,” you mutter. He could have asked you for the most ridiculous thing and you would have still agreed to it.

Jae wakes with a start, the room was dark, the only light came from the still on TV. A show was playing softly, the clock under the tv read 3:45 am. He felt pretty hot, was the A/C not working?

He begins to shift when he realizes the position you both are in. Your legs were still tangled together, as if unconsciously refusing to let go of the proximity. You gripped his shoulder, your breath hitting his neck as you slept soundly on top of him. God, if this is a dream, let me never wake up, he thinks.

He usually hates being too close to someone, any sort of intimacy was bad news to Jaehyun. Either emotionally or physically, he kept everyone at a distance because he had seen it too often. How people settled for something they weren’t sure of and hurting those involved. He was aware he was too logical sometimes, but it’s what he knew to protect himself. Moments like these, they only lead to expectations and empty feelings, leaving behind only pain that even time couldn’t heal sometimes.

But why was he finding it so hard to untangle himself from your embrace? He should go to his bed and sleep comfortably, but at the same time, having you in his arms felt just right. Like two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

He could smell the light scent that was you and it almost made him squeeze you closer, as if it was possible. You smelled of spring, a light floral scent that reminded him of better days.

He was glad he woke up, he was going to enjoy every second of peace this brought him. He would store it in a little box and hold on tightly when the cold reality came back. As he fought with his drowsiness, he felt you nestle closer. He kissed the crown of your head as he finally gave in to sleep. I hope I dream of you… If this was love, he finally understood why sometimes the pain was worth a shot.

So stupid, sweet love song, extravagant rom-com

As much as I was happy, on the receipt there’s a red line

EndNote | I know this chapter was pretty short. In all honesty, I had written something else before deleting it entirely and starting again, but I really like the direction the story is going now. Hopefully I can update Part 3 tomorrow, but I'm really excited about it!

Previous: Part 1 | Next: Part 3

90 notes · View notes