#i am also a hypocrit who likes to gift expensive/big stuff if i know they really want it but i just hate getting gifts like that myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sightofsea · 5 years

Note

GOD the "I dont go shopping I get and retrieve" prompt for the south downs PLEASE

ok so I just wanna say this may have gotten away from me

❝ I don’t go shopping I get and retrieve. I have a narrow focus, unlike some people. ❞

Aziraphale crosses his arms, trying to look above all this and failing. "I have no idea what you mean."

Crowley makes a series of disbelieving noises, wildly waving the receipt in his hand. "Look at this! We needed eggs and you came back with--" He sputters some more before holding the receipt close and taking off his glasses. "3 dozen lemon marionberry muffins, a tin of £20 rose tea, four different types of cheese danish, a recipe book from 1877, and brioche."

Aziraphale shrugs. "Well what's wrong with that? Those were all perfectly delicious."

"You forgot the eggs!"

"Oh." Aziraphale blinks. "Yes, I suppose I did."

"And it's not just that," Crowley continues. "Every time we go into that antique shop you end up buying half the store. And I'm all for irritating consumerism, you know me, practically invented it when I got the home shopping channel up, but the expenses."

"Crowley, again, we have an endless supply of money."

Crowley grumbles. "Fine! Fine, yeah. But the space, Aziraphale. I mean." He gestures to the room.

Aziraphale looks around. There's stacks of books on the coffee and tide tables, and some wedged between the couch cushions. The window is open, and the multitude of antique chimes he bought a few weeks ago glitter gloriously in the light with their greens and ambers but tangle up when the breeze passed through. The shelves are lined with his collection of regency snuff boxes. There's stacks of plates on the floor--not used, of course, but they're a set from 1813 he had wanted for so long, and he found them for a steal. Even the mantelpiece is choked with porcelain figurines and fancy pots that Crowley has been filling with plants.

"I," Aziraphale starts, though he hates to say the rest. His hands twist in on each other, and he sighs. "I suppose it is getting a little cluttered. Oh, but I like the clutter."

"I'm not suggesting a total overhaul," Crowley says, voice soft. "Just, you know, some spring cleaning. The human way. Pack up some stuff for the attic." He pauses. "And also getting eggs this time."

Aziraphale sighs again. "Alright. And I'll go get the eggs. They also had a lovely selection of peaches there that--"

Crowley rolls his eyes. "You're lucky I love you. Walk or ride, you think?"

Aziraphale considers. "Walk."

"Right. Eggs only."

When they return, eggs in hand (along with the peaches, and some Hazelnut Ritter Sports because Crowley can admit that he is a hypocrite, unlike some people) they get to the cleaning. Crowley has promised the human way, but looking at the mess now resolves to first snap them neatly into piles on the floor. Easier to go through everything and all that.

After a few hours of sorting they've got the books back in the study, at least, which has been steadily becoming a larger and larger room with the confines of their tiny cottage, and some of the wind chimes tucked away in the attic. The box of porcelain figurines was especially surprised to find itself in an antique shop in Dorset, but what Aziraphale didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

(The box will be equally surprised tomorrow morning to find itself unpacked and back on the mantelpiece, while a smug angel looks on and a mussy haired demon groans in exasperation.)

For now they've moved to the snuff boxes. Aziraphale is sorting through them now, criss-cross on the floor. It's late now, and the wisps of his hair glow orange in the lamplight. He's wearing another hideous jumper that their neighbor's knitted for them. It's fraught with knots, but Aziraphale can't find a way to say no to a gift and he figures that if he wears it once it's enough to call it a job well done. Crowley watches as Aziraphale checks the inside of one box before setting it aside and inspecting another. He feels a sort of warm stretching in his chest. Aziraphale always looks his best when the lights are low.

As if his ears were burning, the angel looks up. "What is it?"

"Hm?" Crowley hums.

"You're staring. Do I have snuff ash on my face?"

He does, but Crowley won't tell him that. "No, no. Just, erm." He's still very knew to this, the whole saying what he means kind of thing. "Just like looking at you, is all."

Aziraphale beams. The warm stretchy feeling grows more. "Oh, Crowley." His smiles softens. "You are--"

"Oh, tell the whole blessed world, why don't you," Crowley grumbles. His cheeks are hot. Is it hot in here? Perhaps it's the furnace. He should check the furnace.

"We're married, darling, there's no need to be embarrassed."

"Not embarrassed, just." He's not used to it, still. The whole thing of saying something so true and having the other person hear it and respond to it. To even like it, is. He shakes his head and picks up one of the snuff boxes. It's metal, and lightly carved with ivy leaves. "Why do you have so much of these anyway?"

Aziraphale sees the moment pass and moves on. "Well, I don't know. I suppose I just think they're neat."

Crowley smiles. "Oh, you would, wouldn't you?" He opens up the box, and inside the lining is a single piece of folded paper. He remembers this. He knows what this is. He tries to stuff it somewhere before Aziraphale notices, before he--

"What's that you've got there?"

Fuck. "This? It's nothing. Uh, shopping list, looks like."

Aziraphale raises his eyebrows. "Shopping list?"

"Or a receipt. Or something of the like."

Aziraphale leans forward. "Well, let me--"

"No! No," Crowley yells. He keeps the paper from Aziraphale's reach. "I'll, uh. I think it's best if I keep it, yeah?"

Aziraphale looks at him dryly. "Crowley."

Crowley's resolves crumbles. He pulls his arm back down. "It's. It's a letter. From me." He swallows. "To you."

"Oh, well we used to send each other letters all the time, didn't we?"

"It's a." He grimaces. "Love letter. From back when they were in fashion. Regency or something like that." He opens the letter, grimacing again at the language. "1817, to be exact. Got drunk and snuck it in the box thinking you'd never open it. Completely forgot about doing it, actually."

"What does it say?" Aziraphale asks.

"I don't--" Crowley starts, shaking his head. "'S all flowery words, it's not really--"

"Crowley, please."

He's giving the big shiny eyes this time. Crowley rolls his own eyes and takes off his sunglasses. "Yeah, alright," he says. "My dearest Aziraphale." Oh, this is going to be much harder than he thought. "Every day without you grows lonelier than the last. To think I spent centuries without you is laughable. You have found me bewitched, I am sure. Bewitched by your smile, your eyes, the wisps of your hair. Every day I look at you and find something new to love. To say I have loved you for ages would be to understate time and all of the years I have looked upon your face with utter adoration. I would kiss the rose of your lips if you would be so kind as to let me. I cannot ensure you against the wrath of an unjust God, but if she be so she is not the God for us. As such, however, I understand if your feelings are not true to mine. That which is divine has no obligation to be upon sullied ground. I stand with a flawed love, but it is yours nonetheless. As am I. Best regards, Crowley."

He swallows. He can't bare to look up from the paper. In the time it's taken to read it his voice has gone rough and his eyes are wet. "Told you, 's a load of--"

Aziraphale's lips are on him lightning quick, cupping his face in his hands. Crowley leans in, bringing one of his hands to feel the groove of Aziraphale's knuckles before the angel pulls away. "You never cease to amaze me."

Crowley rolls his eyes. "It's not that good."

"No, I refuse to see it as anything other than amazing." He snatches the letter from Crowley's hands. "I'm framing it."

Crowley frowns. "Framing it?"

"Yes." He runs his thumb over the paper, looking at the words before blushing a bit. "If you wish, I can give you one of mine and you can frame it as well."

Something short circuits in Crowley's brain. "One of yours. You--" A half consonant tried to escape his mouth a few times before hitting jackpot. "You wrote love letters about me?"

Aziraphale shakes his head. "Well, much later, yes. And some poetry." He looks bashful. "You're not the only one who had trouble getting their words out." He smiles a bit sadly, and reaches out to take Crowley's hand in his.

Crowley stares at Aziraphale for a while before returning the grip, interlocking their fingers. "Well," he croaks. "Lucky we found a way."

"Yes," says Aziraphale. He brushes a thumb over Crowley's knuckles. "Extremely lucky."

They forget about cleaning for the rest of the night.

2K notes · View notes

huearmy · 4 years

Text

I’m Happy! 200 cuties!

Is written in portuguese but I have 202 followers :)

Actually is much more than I expected, cuz I’m a big flop on internet in basically everything I do, and, I know, I could treat this blog better... maybe.

Anyways I’m happy and feeling I must celebrate some way, even as a gift to myself, since life doesn’t do it for me a t a l l. My mental health thanks me for every little achievement I recognize.

So I decided to answer these questions of this image I found on pinterest, that probably had its origin here on this site, but I don’t have idea of who is the owner at all.

So, I little bit about myself:

Name: Nanda. (you can call me that)

Age: 23. I’m a 97 liner.

3 Fears: I’m odontofobic, like, I have an irrational fear of dentists, that's why I take extreme good care of my teeth, so I never need to do any more complex procedures.

I am also afraid of walking alone on the street at night (what woman doesn’t?), and afraid of breaking my foot again, because it happened three times and all were bad.

3 things I love: I love acting, it's my passion. The creation of a character, construction of body and voice, the entire theatrical creative process. I love this.

I love music, and I can’t imagine my life without it. And a looove Jesus, I think he is a pretty cute eternal guy.

4 turns on: Long hair. Not being white. Soft and fragrant skin. Keep any kind of conversation, be it the most stupid and fun thing or the most serious matter, and everything in between.

4 turns off: Any hate speech. The lack of minimal hygiene. The lack of humor. If smokes (I hate the smell and the taste).

My best friend: I have some................ diferent kind of besties. Like my brother.

Sexual orientation: Pansexual. I have never been attracted to girls at all, although I think them all wonderful, but on the other hand I do feel attracted to trans guys and non-binary. I am in the process of understanding this, because straight doesn’t feel right.

I also identify myself as Demisexual. know me to kiss me.

My best first date: N/A.

How tall I’m: 5' 5" - 1,65m

What do I miss: My grandpa.

Favorite color: Red.

Do I have a crush: Nope. For a long time now.

Favorite quote: “I don’t need you to respect me, I respect me. I don’t need you to love me, I love me. But I want you to know you could know me if you change your mind.” - Steven Universe, Change Your Mind

I love this song.

Favorite place: The stage.

Favorite food: Food.

First thing I notice in a new person: The way they dresses and their smell.

Shoe size: Small. In Brazil, the number of shoes I wear is 33. I think in the USA it's 5 and in the UK it's 3, or something... That's what google told me.

Eye color: Brown.

Hair color: Black/dark brown.

Favorite style of clothes: No clothes at all.

Meaning behind my URL: “hue” is an old brazilian meme, which basically means that the zueira never ends. I won’t try to explain the zueira.

It is only necessary to understand that I am a b-army and that's it.

Favorite movie: Spirited Away.

Favorite song: I love too much songs to just choose one.

Favorite band: Read the previous answer.

Someone I love: My dog, Tantan. He is just so precious.

Current relationship status: Single.

Favorite Holiday: I don't think I have any ... I kind of am the person who doesn't care about Christmas and thinks the independence day is a little bit hypocritical (like, independence for whom? black people were still enslaved when it happened, and the natives still struggle to be treated like human beings today, so...)

Tatoos and piercings: None yet :( tatoos are expensive :(

۹(ÒہÓ)۶۹(ÒہÓ)۶۹(ÒہÓ)۶۹(ÒہÓ)۶۹(ÒہÓ)۶۹(ÒہÓ)۶۹(ÒہÓ)۶۹(ÒہÓ)۶

That’s it, I little bit about who I’m. Again, thanks for everything, and please keep reading my stuff. Feel free to talk to me.

I really like to connect to people, and writing is a way I found to do it.

#200 followers #202 actually #i'm happy #thank u #so #so much

3 notes · View notes

dat-fandom-losertown · 4 years

Text

Happy NHPC Day!

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 2

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Spideypool / Peter Parker + Wade Wilson

Warnings: None, unless you click the first link in this chapter. It’s just a flower, but it’s mildly NSFW?

Word Count: 4,862

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Heyy... 😅 It's way past Feb. 15th now, but the 15th was my brother's 15th birthday, and I got roped into the activities (for the literal first time in 10 years lmao), then later that evening there was a power outage due to a huge wind storm. As for the rest of the days, I kinda just... didn't post the finished product for some reason? Like, I rewrote this thing, like, four times (and I still hate this but it's whatever at this point I guess), then I thought I posted it on the 16th but didn't?? So I was checking my other work and saw this was uncompleted?? So here! Take the late chapter! Better late than never I guess? 😅😂

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

{ Yellow } [ White ]

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

The first and only thing Wade notices when he wakes up is that Peter is still in his arms. He rubs his face along Peter’s bare back and neck, enjoying the warmth and softness of his skin.

[ That’s strange. He’s usually up early. ]

{ Yea. One of those nasty “Early to bed, Early to rise” people. Honestly, don’t they see the appeal of nighttime? }

The second thing Wade notices when he wakes up are those fucking boxes, and the blissful “I just woke up and can’t remember much” feeling is gone instantly.

{ Uh, rude! }

[ No, that’s fair. You’re an idiot ]

{ Again, rude! And hypocritical! }

He ignores them both in favor of hugging his boyfriend tighter. Once he does, Peter exits out of whatever app he had on his phone and rolls over in his arms so their noses almost touch.

“Good morning.” he says lowly, looking like he just woke up but sounding like he’s been up for a while. He must have just never gotten out of bed.

“Mmm… Mornin’ hot stuff.” Wade can’t resist kissing him sweetly. “What has you in bed still? Hm?”

Peter smiles, and it lights up his beautiful brown eyes. Whoever says that brown eyes aren’t beautiful can go fuck themselves. Peter is living proof that eyes like that may as well be the most delicious chocolate, they’re so alluring.

[ I don’t think you’d describe chocolate as alluring… ]

{ Speak for yourself. My problem is that now I can’t stop thinking about that trend where couples would lick each other’s eyeballs. Please don’t tell me you’re going to do that to Petey, are you? }

[ Even I know to have more confidence in him than that. Maybe. ]

“Didn’t people die from that? Or go blind?” Wade murmurs out loud, knowing Peter doesn’t care when he does.

“What did?” he asks back.

“People licking other people’s eyeballs.”

Peter gets that look on his face that he denies having. The one that says “I really wanna question where that came from because that was completely random and unrelated to our conversation, but I also don’t want to know the answer because I’m scared of the rabbit trail that lead you to it.” He rarely asks how he got to whatever topic he randomly brought up, but he always humors Wade and answers him as if he was talking to him and not the voices in his head.

His expression turns to one of hesitant acceptance. “What are you talking about?”

“When people were licking each other’s eyeballs for that one trend.”

Peter just nods. “I think people went blind, but I don’t think anyone died. It was a risk, but wasn’t that back in, like, 2013 or something?”

Wade shrugs and kisses Peter again. “Dunno. Yellow mentioned it cause your eyes look like chocolate. No worries, though, licking eyes is nasty.” he adds at Peter’s concerned and disgusted look.

“Good, cause I’d never allow it.”

“Same here.”

There’s a minute of peaceful, comfortable silence before Peter breaks it.

“Why the hell do all of our morning conversations end up like this?”

[ Because you have even less of a filter than you normally do, which shouldn’t even be possible, but it is. Honestly, it’s terrifying. ]

“White says it’s because we have less of a head to mouth filter than normal when we’re first waking up.” Wade paraphrases.

Peter nods again, “Yeah… It’s probably a good thing you rarely see me when I first get up.”

{ He probably says some really cute things! Or maybe it would be much dirtier ;) }

[ I can’t tell if you said “colon end parenthesis” out loud or just implanted a picture of a winky face in our heads and it’s making me uncomfortable. ]

{ Well technically you don’t have a head to implant that to. And I’ll do whatever the hell I want, so the readers won’t even get to know the answer to your inquiry. }

[ Ooo, big word for you. ]

{ Yeah, bigger than your tiny– }

“Wade, are the voices bothering you?” Peter interrupts, causing Wade to smile.

“Nah, honey, they’re bothering each other more than me.”

He affectionately bumps his forehead on his Peter’s and leaves it there, basking in the warmth.

{ You should ask Peter! }

“Ask him what?” Wade almost groans.

{ If he says cute or dirty thing, of course! }

“No. Later. ‘M warm.”

{ Pansy. }

[ Right now he looks more like an Orchis italica than a Pansy, really. ]

“Do I wanna know what those look like?”

“What?” Peter pulls back.

{ Yesss! Nirlan left the links there for a reason! }

[ Who the fuck is Nirlan? ]

{ Gasp! How dare you not know the name of the author of this fanfic! }

[ There’s so many authors and artists out there, how are we supposed to ever keep up with them? ]

“Can we not? It’s too early to be breaking this many walls…” Wade complains because hot damn the boxes are getting annoying, and, quite frankly, they’re taking over the fic at this point.

The boxes don’t even get to respond before Peter is on Wade, kissing him in a way that is neither soft nor chaste.

“Need a distraction?” he asks with that sexy smirk of his.

“Always.”

{ I guess it’s dirty things, heheh ;) }

[ I swear to god– ]

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

“And you’re sure that two hours is enough time for you to browse around? And you won’t get something absurdly expensive, even though we can afford it?” Peter asks for the third time right before they split up. Wade doesn’t even blame him for asking. They both know how he can get sometimes when shopping without a list.

“I promise I won’t get distracted and show up three hours late with nothing or too much to show for it.” He hesitates, “Well, I can’t promise on the late part, but if I am late, I’ll have a really good present to make up for it!” He says it in his usual joking manner, but they both know that he’ll be on time unless something super-vigilante-y (‘cause he may be super, but he ain’t no hero) happens.

Peter smiles in a way he can only describe as fond. Wade remembers when he was shocked every time he saw it on the other’s face, back when their relationship was newer and Wade’s self-esteem at an almost all-time low. Now, though, it only brings a rush of warmth. This person, this beautiful, humble, kind, strong man loves him– Him! A mess of a barely-if-at-all-human being that used to kill a shit ton of people for money and fun (even though they were all baddies, it still goes against the “Spidey Code”)– enough to smile all dopily at seemingly random times. Like, how did he ever get so lucky? What did he do in his past life do deserve such a sweet reward for going through the horrors he has?

[ Maybe it’s less about previous lives and more about karma. You used to be an asshole and killed almost indiscriminately, so karma punished you. But then you started killing only people who had no right being alive, and here we are. ]

{ White! Did you just call Wade a good person! I thought you didn’t care! }

[ Shut the hell up. The only thing I did was say that maybe karma realized that it went a little too far. I mean– ]

“Wade, you alright?” Peter voices, holding Wade’s wrist and looking far more concerned than he should.

“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Yeah, actually. I think White just indirectly called me a good person.”

[ I did fucking not! ]

“Or, well, that I’m a good enough person now that karma decided I deserved one last good thing after all the shit it’s been giving me all my life. But close enough, right?”

And there goes Peter, smiling that same fond smile as before, even if it has a touch more worry in it than it did before. Wade practically melts.

“Of course you’re a good person. I don’t date just anyone, you know.” Peter kisses him quickly before letting go of his wrist. “Now we really should go get those presents. Meet back at the apartment in two hours, or sooner if we find something before then?”

“You know it.” Wade blows him a large kiss with a wink.

Peter catches it in a fist, which he then kisses and puts in his pocket before turning around. Wade follows his lead and turns to jog across the street while the crosswalk sign is still green. The bounce in his step doesn’t leave even as he slows to a casual stroll, or as casual as it can be in the middle of fucking New York City.

God, never in a million years did he think he’d be a part of that couple. The couples who shamelessly blow kisses and make goo-goo eyes at each other in public. At least, not when it’s no longer the obnoxious honeymoon phase with someone he doesn’t really care for and he’s trying to subtly drive them away. He and Peter certainly aren’t in the honeymoon phase anymore, and Wade is actually trying his best to keep his boyfriend around for as long as possible this time before he inevitably ups and leaves.

[ At least you’re self aware in that aspect. Nothing lasts forever. Even if you and him did, you realize that chances of you outliving him just because he ages is extremely likely, if not certain? ]

{ So you should get him a present now! A really, really good one! Not like your prank anniversary gift. }

“Hell no, nothing like that. I was cleaning slime and glitter for weeks.”

[ It was only four days. ]

“Yeah. Like I said, weeks.”

{ So what should we get Peter? }

[ We? ]

{ Yes we! I want to get him one too this time! He’s the only person besides Wade who tries to talk to us! }

[I suppose that’s true… ]

Wade can practically feel White thinking this over, but he already knows that there’s no swaying Yellow about this. He doubts (hopes) that Peter doesn’t mind that they got him stuff too. He already has plenty of reminders that Wade is insane as it is.

{ A blanket won’t do! And he doesn’t like stuffed animals like we do! }

[ And he doesn’t like shoes or socks around the house because he falls off the ceiling easier. Mittens and gloves are out of the picture for the same reason. ]

Huh, so White is planning to get Peter something, then.

[ If I’m forced to, then a new camera. It’s functional and he’s been wanting that new Canon one. ]

That is very true. Back when he and Peter were first moving into their current apartment (which is way nicer than either of them had before, Wade because he had no self-respect, and Peter because he had no money) found his old camera and eventually got back into the hobby. When he bought a more professional upgrade so he could dabble in selling some of his stuff, it ended up having a built in flash that turned on whenever it was darker than “in direct sunlight” unless he put it on the shitty “No Flash” setting. He returned it pretty quickly, but he still hasn’t bought a new one yet.

Fuck, that would have actually been a really cool gift idea, and if White’s taking it–

[ We’ll share it. ]

Wade stumbles in the middle of the sidewalk.. Did he just hear that right?

{ Holy shit, I think you did! }

[ Fuck off. You guys are hopeless. This is an offer of pity. ]

{ And that sounded very tsundere of you. }

[ And I’m not going to grace that with a response. ]

{ Let it be known that White actually cares! }

[ Do you never listen? ]

Wade tunes the boxes out while they argue. As much as the camera is such a good idea– and he will be getting that; he’s on his way to a store he vaguely knows of to check for the one he thinks he remembers Peter wanting– he doesn’t like the idea of getting Peter something that White thought of before he did. It doesn’t exactly shout “I’m a good boyfriend” to buy something someone else suggested, even if he’s positive he would have thought of it eventually, if given some time.

By the time he reaches the store, interrogates a knowledgeable employee and the internet for what the best Canon camera for Peter might be, buys a camera, extra lenses, a small, foldable camera stand, a reflector of the same variety, and a large, red and grey camera bag, and walks out of the store with several bags, the boxes have moved on from arguing and are strangely into the whole gift-giving thing. It was actually Yellow’s idea to get the stand and backpack, and White’s idea to get the extra lenses.

He finds an empty alleyway to dump all of this stuff out and organize the goods into the backpack. He’s not stupid, he knows that alleys are usually where various crimes happen, but he’s also not so stupid as to let someone sneak up on him, either. This alley is completely empty, and it will stay that way either because no one comes around, or he returns it to its empty state. No one’s stealing his baby boy’s Half-Priced Candy Day present on his watch.

It doesn’t take nearly as long to organize everything into and on the bag as Wade thought. Just put the default lense on the body of the camera and stuff that and the charger into the biggest hole in the bag, the other lenses get caps on both ends and they get put in the smaller ones. The reflector get is put on top of those and the bag still closes just fine, and the collapsible stand can be strapped to the side of this particular bag. He tosses all the boxes and bags into the nearby dumpster after pulling the camera bag on like a backpack and he’s ready to go.

He casually heads out and starts making his way towards Target. That place usually has unique games that he and Peter sometimes play with a couple of other friends. That, and they usually have sinfully soft pillows, blankets, and sheets. He would get an indoor hammock chair, but they don’t own their current apartment and he doesn’t want to risk ruining the ceiling in order to hang it up. Besides, he doesn’t feel like carrying something like that back from Target by foot.

[ So by process of elimination, you’re getting yet another soft blanket or pillow? ]

“Listen, I don’t need your sass. There is no such thing as too many soft things, and Peter completely agrees.” he responds out loud. He is far beyond not giving a fuck about what other people (who aren’t Peter, of course) think about him.

{ That may be so, but, like, this is your chance to buy matching onesies? }

“Peter doesn’t like onesies. They get too hot for him too fast, and they usually fall under the ‘no shoes or socks’ thing.” Wade gasps, “Gloves! He doesn’t like gloves because they cover his fingertips!”

[ Yes, we all knew this Wade– ]

“So finger-less gloves should be fine, right? I could buy a pair or two or seven for him!”

{ All different colors and patterns! And they’re still soft! }

Wade hums happily as he skips into Target. He walks in with the resolve to buy at least five pairs of finger-less gloves, but probably more. After a while of looking around and mild complaining and raving, though, he ends up walking out with two pairs of finger-less gloves (one black and one mitten-convertible pair that are navy blue), an expansion pack for Exploding Kittens, some discount candy, a case of Peter’s favorite soda, and a grey teddy bear that is soft soft he couldn’t not get it (he made sure to get the one with the wonky face, though, because he and Peter always grab the ones with “personality”).

A glance at his watch tells him that he’s already 15 minutes late, and he still has to walk home.

“Shit!”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Wade bursts through the apartment door, panting. Sprinting up the stairs instead of waiting a minute for the elevator probably wasn’t the best call.

“Peter?” he calls out before he even gets inside.

“I’ll be right out!” he hears from their bedroom.

He heaves a sigh, closing the door behind him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I took so long.” he says at a normal, indoor volume, knowing Peter can still hear him clear as day, “I really didn’t mean to be late this time, but when I finally got out of Target I was already ten minutes late and I didn’t want to run and accidentally drop something, y’know?”

Peter walks out of the bedroom, and Wade notes how he carefully kept the door closed just enough to where he can’t see inside.

{ Ooo!! I wonder what it is! Maybe a new comforter? }

[ God, there’s no more fucking room in the closet for this shit. ]

“Hi, honey.” Wade greets softly. His face feels warm and soft, so he knows he’s making heart-eyes at Peter, but he just can’t help it!

“Hey, love.” Peter greets back, stepping forward and taking Wade’s face in his hands.

They meet in the middle in a soft kiss, then lean each other’s foreheads against one another. It makes Wade suddenly aware of how much he missed Peter. Like, he normally isn’t this clingy, but NHPC day is meant for sleeping and cuddles and all Petey time.

“As much as I liked trying to find surprises for you, I don’t think I want to do this again.”

Peter hums, getting Wade’s unspoken message. “I agree. I missed you, too.”

They stand there for a while, swaying slightly together with Peter cupping his cheeks and Wade pressing as close to his other as he can without the bags becoming awkward to hold. Peter kisses his nose, then both of his cheekbones, then his cheeks, then his mouth and lingers there. When they pull away, Peter takes a step back.

“So, what’s all this?”

He wrings his hands together as he tries to inspect the bags. He’s nervous or anxious about something, and, honestly, Wade doesn’t blame him for being worried about what’s in the numerous bags. Not after their last anniversary and April Fools, anyway.

“Nothing bad, I promise. Should we move this to the bed?–”

“Couch is fine!” Peter says a tad too enthusiastically and spins to go sit on the couch.

Well, that just means there's something in the bedroom, but he can be patient if it’s for his Petey.

He settles everything onto the floor before sliding the bag off of his back and handing it to Peter. The vigilante stares at it with wide eyes, and takes it extremely carefully, as if the bag will fall apart if he so much as moves it too fast.

“So, normally, people open the biggest thing last so they aren’t disappointed with everything else, but…”

Peter takes the hint and sets it on the ground so he can unzip it and open the flap. He removes the round reflector and suddenly freezes. Wade can’t tell if it’s a good freeze or a bad one, and that in itself is decidedly not good.

“I don’t know if this camera is too advanced or too shitty for you so...” Wade trails off again, not sure what to say.

Peter picks up the camera and inspects it. He tries to turn it on, but it still needs to be charged, so he assumes the screen remains black. He flips it around to look at it and uncap the lense, flips it back to hold it and maybe find the buttons. He looks through the camera and manually adjusts the focus. After that, he adjusts the focus back to where it was, puts the camera safely back into the bag.

A split second later, Wade has a lap and armful of Peter.

“Woah! Okay, I take it you like it?” Wade curls his arms around Peter’s middle while his abdomen, in return, is squeezed.

“Thank you.” Peter whispers into his neck.

Wade squeezes him tighter. “You’re welcome, love.”

Upon hearing the seldom-used name, Peter kisses Wade one more time. It quickly becomes much less than innocent, and as much as Wade is loving this, he still has a few other gifts to give, and at least one thing to get in return.Therefore, he reluctantly pulls away, softly stopping Peter from following his lips.

“You still have a couple gifts from me.”

Peter does not move. “Describe them.”

Damn if Wade doesn’t like it when Peter gets like this. Any other time he would have given in to that sinful look on the other’s face, but not this time. He’ll prove he has at least some self control.

“As much as I would love to– and I really would– I wanna see your reaction to two of the other things I got.”

Peter huffs and sits back with a slight pout. “Fine.”

He quickly eyes the Target bags and gathers his presents. He politely thanks Wade for buying the candy and soda because he didn’t have time to for a reason he didn’t state. He finds the expansion pack and smiles at it, and challenges Wade to a game as soon as they’re done with gifts and snuggles. Then he finds the bear with the wonky face.

“I actually got you something similar to this.”

He seems nervous again, almost more so than before. It has Wade becoming concerned.

“Hey, you know it’s alright if all you got me was a stuffie, right?” He reaches over and grabs Peter’s hand. “It isn’t a competition.”

He smiles fondly in return. “I know.” He gets up and offers Wade a hand. “Time for my presents.”

Wade accepts his hand, but barely uses it to get up. Peter doesn’t let go once he’s standing on his own and the ex-merc finds himself being led to the bedroom.

{ What do you think it’s going to be! I vote for the room being covered in petals and Peter offering himself as a gift! }

[ Peter has stated many times that he has more dignity than that, so no. ]

{ Aww, you’re such a party pooper… I can still dream, you know! }

[ That’s what I worry about the most. ]

{ Hey! }

Peter opens their bedroom door and what Wade finally sees inside almost makes his jaw drop.

There are colored fairy lights strung up simply around the room, just like he’s always wanted, but either forgot the lights or lacked the motivation to try setting it up. The bed is made with a new bed set that is predominantly apple red with accents of maroon, and when Wade strokes his hand across it, it is extremely soft, but doesn’t feel like it’ll overheat them and irritate his scars. On the center of the bed are a little Spiderman and Deadpool tsum tsum-looking plushies laying right next to each other. It’s perfect.

“How did you even have time to do all of this?” Wade asks as he takes in the lights while stroking the comforter.

“I was banking on you being a bit late, actually.” Peter clears his throat– another obvious show of nerves. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” Wade doesn’t hesitate, “This is beautiful. Where did you even find all this?”

“Uh, you know, at the store.” Peter sounds more anxious than before, so Wade turns around to ensure that everything is perfect–

This can’t be happening. Wade feels his eyes widen and his jaw properly drop. This can’t be real. There’s no way.

{ This isn’t another hallucination, is it? }

[ I don’t think so. No one is trying to kill us. ]

Peter is on one knee right in front of him. Those stupidly handsome eyes flicker around his face, and his shoulders are tense in a way that broadcasts he’s nervous. They’re standing in their gorgeous room that’s in their shared apartment, they’re both in the comfiest clothes that are still appropriate to go out in public in, and Peter is kneeling in front of him while holding out a ring that’s made of rose gold with a large, deep-red center gem with tiny black ones swirling around it.

This can’t be fucking real. This is way too good to be–

“Judging by your face, this is completely unexpected, but this is something I just realized recently that I’ve been wanting for a while. And I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I think you know what I’m talking about anyway.”

Peter didn’t ask for a response or acknowledgement, but Wade nods anyway. He understands the feeling. Peter’s gaze moves to the walls and the floor, purposefully avoiding Wade now. That isn’t a great sign.

“Like, everyone else I dated I kinda new from the start wouldn’t last? But with you, everything feels natural, and we work really well together, in suits and out of them, and I just– I was thinking about something or other, and I imagined trying to live a life that didn’t have you in it, and I couldn’t do it. As disgustingly cheesy as this is going to sound, I don’t think I can live without you anymore, at least without it being torturous, ‘cause you’re the one who literally knows the most about me and you help me stay away from especially bad habits but don’t treat me like a child when I do something stupid. And, like, the only way you can leave my life permanently is if we broke up– well I guess we could still technically get a divorce, or you could just say ‘no’ right now and break up with me eventually–”

“Yes.” Wade hears himself say, quietly. Peter doesn’t register it, so Wade doesn’t try to use words again. He’s too caught up in his head. He kneels down to Peter’s height and reaches around Peter’s outstretched hands to cup his cheeks. Peter blinks, looks into Wade’s eyes, and lowers the ring closer to their chests, but never stops speaking.

“–but anyway. You’re actually the best thing that’s happened to me since Spiderman and it would really mean the world and more to me if you say–”

Wade cuts him off with a slow, soft kiss. He slowly pulls away when his own smiling makes it too hard to continue, but keeps their faces close.

“Yes.”

Peter blinks hopefully. “Yes?”

Wade yanks him into a tight hug. “Of course! Why would I ever say no?– Actually, don’t answer that. But god, yes! Fuck, I love you so much!” Wade suddenly pulls back. “Lemme see the ring! How did you even get something this nice on such short notice?”

Peter takes his left hand– and oh, if that doesn’t send a pleasant thrill up his spine then he doesn’t know what will– and gently slides the ring on– actually, that right there would– and then doesn’t let go of his hand.

The ring looks more feminine on his finger than it did in the little, velvet box, but if anyone knows Wade, it’s that he doesn’t give a flying fuck. He actually really loves it. It’s rather unique, especially compared to the classic “white diamond(s) on a silver band” engagement rings. And while Wade would have loved a ring like that if Peter got him one, he probably would have only liked it for what it symbolized, rather than actually liking the ring itself like he does this one.

“I did some research during the late night patrols yesterday, and found this one online this morning before you were up. I just went to pick it up after it got sized.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I was worried it wasn’t flashy enough–”

“Nonsense, Peter!” he exaggerates an accent.

“–then I was worried it was too flashy for just in case you wanted to wear it under your Deadpool suit–”

“Of course I will!”

“–and I didn’t want it to irritate your scars, but, again, I didn’t want to be super simple or flat. That just isn’t the Spiderman and Deadpool way, after all.”

“No, it really isn’t.” he confirms fondly.

Wade looks back down at the ring. It hasn’t quite hit him yet that they’re officially engaged.

“So…” Wade starts seductively, “How about we try out these new sheets?”

Peter perks up. “Snuggle day time?”

Wade’s smile turns into a large grin. “You go get the candy and soda, I’ll rearrange the pillows.”

“Maximum effort!” Peter says as he jumps up to sprint out of the room.

Wade gets up too. “Hey! That’s my thing! And this is mediocre effort at best!”

As Peter’s laugh rings pleasantly through the apartment, all Wade can think is that this is hopefully going to be the rest of his life. He’ll get to have moments like these for years and years to come, snuggles and candy with someone he loves and someone who loves him back for years and years to come. And since the boxes aren’t arguing anything, that must mean it’s true on some level, at least.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Heyo! I still hate this chapter but I've given up trying to make it better, so here we are. I hope y'all didn't totally hate it though! I had an idea for a beginning and an end, but not the middle, so it's all kinds of bleh XD Anyway, I hope you all have a pleasant day/night, and thank you for checking this fic out! <3

#spideypool #peter parker x wade wilson #spideypool valentines fanfic #spideypool fic #spideypool fanfic #spideypool fanfiction #spideypool scenario #nirlan's spideypool fanfics #nirlan's marvel fanfics

8 notes · View notes

ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[RO] All Night Study Session

Attraction got Levi and Stella together, but what kept them together was shared values. Hard work topped the list.

They lay opposite each other on Stella’s kitchen floor, surrounded by a jungle of pillows, towels, and pencil shavings. Neither noticed the clock strike 3am; if they had, they wouldn’t have cared.

Levi gnawed on his eraser, willing himself awake, but the diagrams blurred into darkness. Stella heard his hair bristle against the pillows. “Hey, heyyyy” she nudged with her foot. “I’m up!” Levi shook his head and flipped the page with feigned determination.

“Want some ice?” Stella pushed the bowl towards him. “I want a pizza.” “Stores are closed.” “Ughhhh this town sucks.” “How are you complaining, your town doesn’t even have stores at all.” “False dichotomy.”

Levi sank back into the pillows. “Not on my watch.” Stella declared, though she secretly hoped he’d insist so they could sleep without her being the one who gave in.

“All night study session, not 3am study session. Let’s go. You’re not gonna cure the common cold in your sleep.” “Do you really think that’s all pharmaceutical researchers do night and day?” “I don’t think that, but I hope it.” “I’m doing a sleep study.” Levi mumbled, turning over.

“Alright, up, up, come on, we’ve got to move around.” Stella pulled Levi’s arms, even as he tried to go dead weight like a dog resisting a trip to the vet.

Stella turned on some music and turned up the air conditioning. “Stand! Come on. You’ve been working on the same project too long, let’s switch.” “This exam is all I’ve got.” “Do mine then, I’ll look at your problem sets for Thursday.” “Fine—what?” “Look at them Levi, with my eyes.” “...ok, just, do not write on anything. Not even in pencil, got it?” Stella snorted. “Anyone can do this, big shot.” She snatched the paper away. “Fine, what am I doing?” “Writing a paper on religious symbolism in Joseph Conrad’s early novellas.” “Oh, of course. Can’t get hired with a solid benefits package if you don’t know... that.” “Shut up.”

Levi was shivering even with his coat on. He knew he’d have an easier time staying awake if he took it off, but Stella loved touching his arms when he wore leather, so lately he wore this jacket all the time.

His baleful hazel eyes scanned Stella’s writing. He could bullshit for at least five minutes about this stuff at a cocktail party, on a confident night, but he didn’t really have any clue what was going on. He decided to go through and hide innuendos in her earlier pages.

Stella couldn’t bullshit about Levi’s project for five seconds, because she couldn’t pronounce half these words. She read to herself, carefully.

“You decide to make a genomic DNA (gDNA) library from Plant X. Below are statements that might describe a type of DNA library. Indicate if the statement describes a gDNA library, a cDNA library, both types of libraries or neither by circling the appropriate word.

(i) the library is “kept” in bacteria gDNA, cDNA, both, neither

(ii) making the library requires they enzyme reverse transcriptase gDNA, cDNA, both, neither”

Levi was tracking her. He wished she’d written about Melville instead of Conrad. Moby Dick lent itself to a lot more cheap jokes than Heart of Darkness. Stella shattered his concentration.

“Got a sharpie in here?” “Why?” “I’m circling ‘neither’ on all the questions—never mind, found one. Oooh, and it’s pink!”

Her trick worked, Levi was wide awake. “I’ll take that.” He launched himself on top of her, faking her out with his right hand and grabbing back the sheet with his left.

He laughed realizing she couldn’t even decipher a page from his easy class. “Time is up. You fail college. Pack your things.” “Well let’s see how you fared professor” Stella sneered as she pulled her laptop over. “Congo line dancing? Is that really the best you could do? Oh—oh wow. Never mind. You win. Oh poor Nellie. Oh, they need to christen that ship again.”

Levi stuck an ice cube in his mouth, even as the cold worked it’s way under his skin. He cringed to think of diving back into his anatomy flashcards.

“Let’s pause academics. Let’s go pre-professional.” “Emails?” “Emails.”

Levi felt like a puppet operated by strings of willpower as he cracked his spine to a standing position and unzipped his book bag, searching for his tablet.

He flipped the case open, thank God, still had some battery life.

He made his way to the couch. Stella’s kitchen and living room were open concept. He patted the cushion next to her. “My ass can’t handle the floor for another six hours, join me.”

Stella eased into the spot next to him. She took a mental snapshot of the moment. All those lonely nights she dreamt of having a boyfriend, it wasn’t wild sex or expensive gifts she was dreaming of. It was someone who’d want to sit up with her all night, requiring nothing special to entice him there.

Levi started to type an email to a professor he wanted to cozy up to for a spot on their next research team. Stella sent a few follow up emails to alumni she had been pumping for interview prospects.

Levi stopped typing. Stella was so engrossed, she hardly noticed. “Stel?” “Yah? Hold on.” “Never mind.” “No, I’m just—“ Stella skimmed her email, removed a few exclamation points so she’d sound less crazy. “What’s up?”

Levi shifted uneasily. “Nothing.” “Not nothing.” Stella shut her laptop. Levi bit his bottom lip. “Do... do you worry about me?” “Is this because I’ve been checking to see if you’re still breathing while you sleep? I didn’t think you knew, I thought you were sleeping. I saw this YouTube video about sudden death syndrome, and you usually snore a little, so when you don’t—“ “Sudden death? Wait, I snore? I ok—No. No, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t know about that. We, uh, we do need to talk about that. Later though. Do you worry whether or not I’m going to be a success?” “Like what, like financially?” “I guess, yah.” “Bruh, I’m an English major. That would be a tad bit hypocritical of me, no?”

She went back to her email. He didn’t. She realized this must go deeper. “What?” “I said it already.” “Why would I be worried about your financial success?” “Are you proud of me?”

Stella knit her eyebrows and placed a hand on his knee. “That’s a very broad question. I mean, no matter how you sharpen it, the answer is yes. But I’d appreciate some context.”

“I just overheard some girls talking and they were all like ‘hey my boyfriend’s on the pre-med track’ or ‘my boyfriend has an offer from Goldman and McKinsey and they’re bidding each other up’. And I realized, if you’d been in that group, I don’t know what you would’ve said.”

Stella sighed, wrapping her arms around her gentle giant. “Your worth is not measured by your professional aspirations. Not to me, not at all. But that being said—“ Stella cleared her throat for her best snotty prep school voice “Well Levi’s on track to be the salutatorian. Not that he cares, he doesn’t get grades to win titles, he does it because he believes in the purpose of the research.” “Damn. Well, ok. I like that.”

Stella was too tired to muster an adequate reply, she just turned her attention back to clearing her inbox. But a seed had been planted. Levi had switched his browser to a GTA live stream when he thought Stella was distracted. She was.

“Levi!” He slammed his tablet case closed “What? It’s for class, you don’t win, I didn’t break— ok maybe it isn’t. Five minutes Stella. I didn’t call you out when you were on reddit and—“ “Not that. I just realized something.” “What?” Levi silently cursed himself for not keeping his mouth shut. He was so close to winning the all nighter. Maybe she’d forget.

“Your friends must do the same thing, what do you tell them? You’re in an impressive department with a clear career path and grad school aspirations. Do they think I’m not good enough for you?” Levi was not prepared to field this question. No matter how he answered, he would upset her.

“We don’t talk about that.” “Bullshit.” “That’s... are you going to make me say it?” “No, you’re going to say it of your own volition because you value an open exchange of communication with me and trust me not to judge you.” “On most things, sure, but...” “Levi—I’ve been up since 6am yesterday. I’m in the mood for direct statements only.” “We compare looks. Not brains. I mean, smarts also, but I heard the way the girls were talking about their boyfriends jobs. It had nothing to do with the job and everything to do with how much status was granted to the girlfriend for hooking a guy with that job. Men don’t do that. Not the ones I know at least. I mean, yah, if you were an astronaut or won an Oscar or something, I’d brag about it. But they’d be as impressed as if you had, like, really nice boobs. Which you do! But—come on, you’re setting me up to fail here.” “Are you censoring yourself?” “Sure fucking am. I can already tell you hate this answer. I’m not digging a deeper hole.” “Well, of course I hate it, you’ve got nothing to brag about!” “Did I say that? Ever?” Levi protested.

Any remnants of sleep that remained in Levi scattered far away in all directions. “Come on, what are you talking about?” Levi presser. Stella was pulling away from him. What did he say? What could she possibly mean by that? She drew a shaky breath.

“Your friends are dating tall girls who watch makeup tutorials and they’re really skinny and their boobs are the same size and—“ “I never would’ve noticed that about your boobs if you didn’t tell me. And now that I know I only think about it when you bring it up. They are not that different.” “So you admit that they’re different!” Levi sat in silence, trying to pick his next words very carefully.

“I wouldn’t want to objectify you by quantifying your worth by your looks...” Stella’s jaw dropped to the floor. “So I was right, you don’t have anything to brag about.” She said it cooly, but each word was like a dagger in her heart, a mace shredding apart what little self esteem she had before the conversation began.

“Oh my God, you’re getting ahead of me. I said I wouldn’t want to objectify you, I wasn’t finished. I don’t want to, I don’t like it, it makes me uncomfortable and it feels misogynistic and wrong and whenever I talk like that I feel like somehow my mom can sense I’m talking bad about women... but I do. Of course I do. How can I not? You give me like a toastmaster’s seminar worth of things to discuss. You’re a fucking trophy Stella. Your personality is why I consider you that way, but that’s not what I one up my friends with when we’re stupid drunk and trying to impress each other. Ok?” “Ok.”

Levi prayed that would be the end of it. Not hard enough. “Ok....? So, what do you say?” “You’re going to get mad at me.” “Total amnesty. As long as I like what you said.” “Oh my God.”

Levi brushed his hair back and decided honesty was the best policy. Not only because he half suspected Stella would be sending her friends out to fact check his statements by the end of the night, but also because he was beginning to suspect she’d figured out a tell for when he was lying.

“I don’t want you to take any of this too seriously. I mean, it’s all good stuff, but like I don’t think of you like a gross pervert leering through a window checking off mental boxes of likes and dislikes.” “What dislikes?” “Oh my God Stella! Come on!” “Sorry, sorry, keep going.” He was rethinking his honesty policy and called an audible to a “whatever she responds best to” policy. “Ok. Um... like, well... I always talk about how you’re a good kisser.” “Boring.” “Uh... ouch. I am complimenting you.” “You’re skipping details. No way you and your friends sit around just going ‘oh yah man, my girlfriend is such a good kisser’ ‘wow, hot’.” “Are we fighting?”

Stella realized how she might be coming off. It didn’t even occur to her Levi might take it as her escalating things. “No. No, fuck. This doesn’t have anything to do with you, I should not be taking it out on you, you don’t deserve it. I’m just deeply insecure about my appearance and... I worry. I worry that I’m... that... you know.” “Clearly I don’t know. We’re past that.” “That you got like, the short end of this deal.” “Deal? What deal? Oh my God. Deal like the relationship, like I’m not lucky to be with you?” Levi stammered. She looked past him.

Levi did his best to recapture the bravado with which he usually delivers this type of speech. “She’s like a Fast Pass bro. You know, like at Disney world? She is all the rides, and there’s no line.” He saw her face fall. “Not that guys aren’t after her, I mean I want to punch these moronic fucking Sigma guys in the teeth the way they look at her like they’re slick.” He added that bit in just for her self image. It was true, but he didn’t go around saying it to people.

“No line like, usually girls that hot play mind games, you know? They answer your texts for a while, but then they don’t. They introduce you as their boyfriend, but then it’s just ‘and that’s Levi’ for a while. Or they post an ominous photo of some guy you’ve never seen on their insta and make you feel like the crazy one for asking about him. She doesn’t pull any of that. She could, easy. But she doesn’t.”

He searched Stella’s face for any signs of relief. None. He didn’t want to go into much more detail but he had a feeling he’d have to give her the whole penthouse letter before she’d let up. “The sex is, to use her word, bananas. But the foreplay is wild. Bro, did you know you can cum from making out? I had no idea and I probably never would have if I didn’t meet her. I don’t know what it is.”

He thought he might be detecting the faintest edge of a smile. He had to stay in this vein. He usually did with some variant in real time, anyways. “I mean, I know a little what it is. She’s got these ginormous titties, like a blow up doll. You’ve got to check it out, next time you see her just look at her and think to yourself ‘that bra isn’t padded’ and then wish you were me.”

He skipped the long stretches where he’d be shutting up so his friends could swap stories and tests to tell if boobs were real or fake, or argue over which they preferred, all while Levi made mental notes of who in the room was a virgin and completely making their shit up as they went along.

“She’s got actress hair. Like it looks like it should come off when you pull on it. But it’s all natural. She doesn’t dye it, nothing. I love that about her. What you see is what you get. I never wake up next to a different woman than the one I got into the bed with. You know?”

Levi had been a virgin before Stella and he hated that he’d just tipped his hand to her that he might have fabricated few past lovers to his friends, but she seemed to finally be almost enjoying herself, so he soldiered on.

“Her eyes, man. It’s like a white girl manga. The longer I look at them the bigger they get. I get so lost, google maps couldn’t get me out.” (He didn’t say this to his friends either, but he thought it all the time, so figured it couldn’t hurt for her to hear it.) He wondered if he was flattering her or sounding like a colossal dork forcing a lot of cheesy lines. He figured at worst, he’d settle for both.

He debated telling her this next part, but it was the thing he volunteered about her most on the rare occasion he did get in a dick measuring contest with other guys about their girlfriends. “But get this, dude, when she stays over, half the time... I wake up in her mouth. No, really. I don’t know if she just likes it or likes me but, breakfast is the most important meal of the day so, who am I to deprive her, you know?”

Stella burst into a fit of laughter. “Yo, you ask why I don’t want to be open and vulnerable, this is why.” Levi chided, more lighthearted than when the exchange began.

“Sorry, just... wow. You’ll never tell me what you actually say, huh?” “Not in this lifetime Stella. I touch on some of those same topics, but, yah. You don’t need to know exactly what I say.”

“You’re just so fucking, ugghhh, you’re so hot, Levi. Your like one of those rugged cowboys from a 1960’s cigarette ad, but you’re smart. I mean, fuck.” She kissed him like she was seeing him for the first time.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder I guess.” Levi muttered. “What do you mean?” “I don’t lack confidence the way you do, but I’m not hot. It just doesn’t bother me that I’m not hot.” “Are you kidding? You’re like a walking lump of muscle and pheromone.” “As long as I am to you, that’s all I care about.” “You don’t think you’re sexy?” “I’m a heterosexual man, Stella. I don’t think any creatures with a dick are sexy. The fact that you willingly come within ten feet of my junk never stops surprising me. I mean, have you ever looked at any woman and thought ‘damn, she’s sexy’” “I mean, no, but” “Ok. So think of all the supposedly hot women you’ve seen. If even like, supermodels you see, or porn stars or, I don’t know, like, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, aren’t enough to make you go ‘damn that’s sexy’ then how could you ever think that about your own body. A body you know every horrible, disgusting, idiosyncrasy attached to?” “I guess I can’t.” “That’s right. But if that ever changes, and you do find a woman you think is sexy, it can be my birthday, Christmas, and anniversary presents from then until the end of time if you bring her over and touch her while I watch.”

Stella laughed so hard she teared up. Levi didn’t get it. “I wasn’t joking.” He realized as she gasped for breath between heaving chortles that he’d have to set that dream aside for now. “Yah, haha, funny. Joke.” He rolled his eyes.

“You know what I really love?” Levi inquired, looking at her closely, trying and failing to see her as she saw herself. “No, what?” “Waking up next to a stunning woman. But I can’t do that if I never go to sleep, you feel me?” “Well... maybe just a few minutes rest.” Stella conceded, laying her head in his lap. He wanted to complain that he couldn’t lie down that way, but he was so tired he didn’t really care.

He put one hand on Stella’s ginormous titties. He said a silent prayer that she could see herself, even if just for an moment, the way Levi saw her all the time. And he waited until she’d drifted off to snap a selfie of her passed out and text it to her with a time stamp. “I won.”

Once he slipped into dreams and his hand relaxed, dropping his phone to signal he’d gone to sleep, Stella cautiously maneuvered her hand to her jeans pocket, — careful not to disturb Levi’s hand — she liked it just where it was.

She snapped another selfie of his head cocked back, mouth half open in a light snore, her smug smile in his lap. Her fatigued pallor matched only by her competitive enthusiasm. She sent the photo with a new, later time stamp, and the message “Nope. I won.” And hit send.

But as she laid in his lap, feeling safe and cared for, basking in the glow of his sweet and well intentioned words she’d given him such a hard time about, she reconsidered. She angled the camera lens and shut her eyes, snapping a photo of them both asleep, his hand on her boobs, her free hand on the leather jacket. She sent that, with the final time stamp, and caption “It’s a tie.”

submitted by /u/Nightingale_Effect [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/36qofit

#Blogger #Story

0 notes