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toruro · 1 year

Text

— ✧ oh my!

pairing: xu minghao x reader

description: choosing to be roommates with vernon chwe would undeniably be one of the few life-changing decisions you made in your lifetime. he brought along support, friendship, and most importantly: a hot friend. — or, in which you’re roommates with vernon and you happen to fall for one of his many chaotic friends.

tags: smut (18+), oral (m receiving), just stupid mutual pining, fluff, seriously self indulgent, mentioned past toxic/controlling relationships

w/c: 13.6k

a/n: REPOSTED. this was my first attempt at a kpop fic ever and my first time writing smut so please bear with how awkwardly written it is. a fic that was supposed to be multiple parts but i couldn't come up with a real plot either so ummm … nevertheless i hope u enjoy!

I. OH MY!

Moving in with Vernon is among your top life changing decisions, pretty much ever.

You two met in college, first sharing a calculus class together and occasionally studying together. Your friendship was budding—he was someone you could count on and never had to second guess. Spending more time together, you naturally grew closer, eventually reaching a point that when Vernon mentioned moving out of his shitty studio, you two immediately decided to find a place together.

Fresh out of college, it was the best decision in all ways possible—money was not nearly as big of a burden as before, and it was fun having a friend to talk to whenever you wanted in the vicinity of your own home.

It’s been an enjoyable eight months since you two started renting out this place together, and this evening, you’re in the kitchen cooking some brownies with an old package of brownie mix you found shoved in the back of one of your cupboards. You’re making a bit of a mess, but you can only hope that Vernon doesn’t mind too much—you will clean it, after all.

You’re in the midst of pondering about how long it’ll take you to clean up the little (big) splatter of flour you dropped on the ground when there’s a buzzing that comes from your phone. You huff, looking down at your fingers that are coated in oil and brownie batter. Setting down the bowl you were mixing, you then go to wash your hands as the buzzing dies out. After wiping down any moisture left on your skin, you pick up the phone to see a missed call from Vernon.

Did he forget something? you wonder, pressing the call back button and holding your phone up to your ear. You hear him pick up the line almost immediately, curious to know why he called you. “Hey,” you say casually when you know he can hear you. “Everything good?”

There are a few voices in the background that you hear, and you recall how he told you this morning he’d be hanging out with his friends. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s great. Look, I was wondering if it would be okay with you if my friends came over to our place? I would’ve asked earlier but I didn’t think we would be hanging out more and…well you get it,” Vernon sighs.

Your lips make a little ‘o’ shape, nodding to yourself as if Vernon could see you right now. “Yeah of course they can come over!” you tell him.

“Are you sure?” he clarifies, and you smile at the sincerity. “It’s just—I mean like they’re probably going to stay a while?” It comes out as a question and you laugh. “Don’t laugh at me,” Vernon grumbles, “I’m just making sure because they’re probably going to stay late in the night and there’s a lot of them.”

“Yes Vernon, I know there’s a lot of them—twelve to be exact,” you retort. “Yes, I’m okay with it, it’s not like I do anything these days anyways. I’ll be fine,” you tell him honestly.

“Okay, thank you so much,” he replies, relieved. “We’ll be there in like ten minutes.”

“Ten?!” you shrieked, quickly taking in the giant mess you made around you, baffled when you think about how you’re going to clean this up.

“Yes, sorry,” Vernon murmurs. “These guys change their minds so much and—ugh—you get it. We’re already close to the apartment complex so we’re just going to come up. Is there a problem?”

You hum, looking around you. “I might’ve made a bit of a mess in the kitchen, but…but I’ll figure it out.”

Vernon laughs. “I doubt they’ll care—most of them are dogs.” You giggle at the muffled protests heard in the background before he continues. “Anyways, thank you, I owe you one. See you in five.”

Your phone beeps when he hangs up and you stand by yourself in the middle of the kitchen. “Five?” you whisper to yourself, “Fuck! He said ten! But now five? Fuck!”

You whip your head around to look at the kitchen, grimacing as you’re dawned with the realization that there is no way you’re going to clean this up before they come. It takes you around 5 seconds to debate your options, finally deciding to just give up on trying to clean up and focus on finishing the batter and getting the pan in the oven.

You set your phone back down on the counter, picking up the batter bowl and giving it a few more stirs to rid it of any clumps before spreading it all out on a pan. It takes you a few moments to find the mittens and stick it in the preheated oven, a wave of relief washing over you when you’re done.

That’s one thing out of the way…I guess , you think to yourself, letting your hair down from the tight up-do you had it in earlier. Looking down at your black t-shirt and yoga pants, you take a few moments to try and dust off whatever flour rubbed off on the cloth. Of course, many stains still remain, but you figured this was better than nothing.

You’re about to grab a broom to clean up the floor when you hear a knock at the door. Sighing in defeat, you wash your hands once before heading to the door. You’re placing your hand on the door knob before you hear some clicking, hesitating to open once you realize it’s Vernon on the other end unlocking it himself. You step back from the doorway as the door is pushed slightly ajar, allowing you to poke your head through the small gap.

You’re met with the sight of multiple guys crowding around the door, a slightly frantic and honestly exhausted-looking Vernon leading the group. “Hey,” he greets as you step back once more, pulling the door open fully.

“That was less than five minutes!” you exclaim, trying your best to ignore the gazes of the unfamiliar faces behind Vernon. You’ve seen pictures of them before on Vernon’s social media and stuff but you don’t really know them at all—you’re only aware of bits and pieces from the stories he tells you occasionally.

“I’m sorry!” he puts his hands up in surrender, stepping through the doorway as you back into the kitchen that remained in the chaotic state you left it in.

“I didn’t have time to clean!” you whine, frantically waving your hand at the kitchen, allowing Vernon to take in the scene.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a new voice pops in and you see a hand snake it’s way around Vernon’s shoulders. A man with blonde hair and a chiseled face looks at you sympathetically. “It’s not Vernon’s fault,” he tells you calmly. “You can blame it on us for changing plans quickly. Don’t worry, Vernon feels bad about it, he told us.”

You sigh, a small pout making its way onto your face. “Fine,” you huff as the rest of the boys fill the large room that contains the kitchen and living room. You aren’t sure what to do now, watching them all shuffle around, taking off their shoes and attempting (key word: attempting ) to organize them in front of the doorway. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead—should you go to your room now? Would it be awkward to just hang around here while they’re in the living room (your kitchen and living room are basically one large room, so there’s no real way to avoid them)?

You’re glad Vernon picks up on your uncertainty. He turns to his friends, speaking up and saying your name, which catches you by surprise. “My roommate,” he clarifies, as they all look at you. You smile awkwardly, giving a small wave before averting your gaze. Vernon then turns around, pointing at the couch across the room, “Now can one of you set up the Mario Kart?”

The rest of the boys nod, beginning to break out into small conversations by themselves as they all make their way to lounge in the connected room, finally giving you a bit of space to breathe (not that they were making you uncomfortable or anything—you’re just a little shy).

“I’m sorry again,” Vernon tells you, and you can hear the genuinity in his voice. “What were you making, by the way?” he asks curiously, peering over at the mess.

“It’s okay! And I was making brownies—I found some old box mixes in the back of the cupboard and I figured I should make them before they expire,” you explain, looking over at his friends who have now settled in the living room comfortably. “Do your friends want some? I’ve made a big enough batch for everyone, I’m sure,” you tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Vernon can you stop asking me if I’m sure,” you complain loudly, running a hand over your face. You hear a snicker come from the other side of a room, catching sight of one of Vernon’s friends seated on ground, a playful smirk on his face upon hearing your conversation. You feel your ears burn, quickly turning back to Vernon. “Yes, I just made them for fun. It’s better to share with them than have us eat all of it,” you chuckle, picking up a dustpan from the corner of the kitchen to begin cleaning up.

“Okay fine,” Vernon murmurs. “Thank you a lot,” he concludes, finally turning and joining friends on the couch. You begin your work to clean up the flour you dropped on the ground, getting lost in your own little world after slipping in your airpods, tuning out the noises of rowdy men and Mario Kart sound effects.

You’re practically done with cleaning the kitchen when you hear your timer go off, nearly skipping to the oven to turn it off and pull out the pan of brownies you’ve been putting so much effort into. The aroma floats through the room, and you catch the glances of a few of Vernon’s friends who peek over, trying to get a look at whatever you’ve come up with.

You smile to yourself, placing the pan on the counter before pulling out a knife to make nice, even pieces. It takes you a few moments, but once you’re done, you look down at them happily. Slipping on your mittens, you carry the tray over to the living room, a small, upwards curve pulling at your lips.

The boy you remember from earlier—the one who laughed at your reaction to Vernon—notices you first, and you can’t help but wonder how you didn;t recognize him from any pictures because holy hell he’s pretty. His eyes are looking at you through heavy eyelashes and there’s a coy smile tugging at his lips—he’s charming .

It takes you a good five seconds to realize you’re staring at him and another five to realize he’s caught you in the act. You whip your head away, looking at the rest of the boys, some of which who are intently focused on the game on the screen, others of which who are indifferent.

“Um, I made some brownies, if you guys want,” you tell them all, clearing your throat. ��They’re fresh, so they’re a little hot, but you can wait for them to cool down.” You set down the pan on the table as the rest of them quiet down, some immediately spewing out words of gratitude.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” one of them asks, and you recognize him as the tallest. Mingyu? You recall some stories about him.

You shrug. “I kind of just made it because we had the boxes left…I think it’d be better if you guys shared it.”

Another boy with glasses sitting on the armchair speaks up. “You can eat it with us—our way of saying thanks,” he encourages. You throw out a close lipped smile, glancing at Vernon as if to ask if this was all just a show of politeness or an actual offer. He offers the slightest nod, and your once tight smile is let loose. You nod your head cheerfully, looking around you to find a spot to sit.

Noticing your confusion, the boy with the blonde hair and sharp face from earlier points to your right. “Sit next to Minghao, I’m sure there’s room there.”

You look down, met with the gaze of him , trying your best to hide your twinge of excitement as you silently shuffle over and sit down at the edge of the rug. Minghao . You like that name, you say to yourself in your head before shaking your head lightly—what are you thinking? You can’t be crushing on a guy you just laid your eyes on!

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head to the screen, grateful to see everyone else’s attention has also averted to the heated one-on-one match between the glasses guy from earlier (you now have learned his name is Wonwoo) and Mingyu.

They’re a loud bunch, but you can’t find it in you to mind—watching them all get along so well, so freely, is liberating in itself. You feel relaxed in a way you didn’t know you could be.

As content as you feel right now though, there’s an anxious thought buzzing at the back of your mind, and no matter how desperately you try to push it back, it keeps crawling its way up, especially when you feel your thigh brush Minghao’s .

Stop it , you chide yourself. Stop it! A little more harshly. Stop thinking about him!

“Hey…” the first time he says it, the words don’t quite reach your ears. “Hey,” he says again, nudging your thigh with his knee, increasing the minimal physical contact you two already had. You’re snapping out of your daze in an instant, whipping your head up to look at him . “You good?” he asks, and while you can tell he’s being sincere, there’s an almost playful smirk gracing his lips.

“Huh…oh, yeah,” you murmur, bashful that he caught you lost in your own head, thinking about him. “Just zoned out for a second,” you explain with an awkward laugh, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your chin on your knees.

“I could tell,” Minghao replies, and you can’t help but gaze at how cool he is as he reaches toward the coffee table, cutting himself a piece of the brownie. You watch him carefully as he takes a bite—you’re honestly just admiring his face, but you think you can brush off your shameless ogling as looking to see if he likes the brownie. He catches you staring, and you’re unsure of what he thinks of it, opening his mouth to talk again once he’s swallowed it. “It’s good,” he tells you, and you smile.

“I’m glad…it would have been kind of embarrassing if it wasn’t.”

“Don’t worry—chocolate isn’t even really my thing but I like it,” Minghao compliments, and you can’t tell if he’s being genuine or faux out of sincerity. Your grin brightens nevertheless as you sink back into the front of the sofa behind you, averting your gaze to the screen once again.

You’re feeling a little shy, of course, and the silence that now sits between you and Minghao isn’t uncomfortable or awkward, rather it’s…heart-warming. Your smile doesn’t leave your face as the room is full of cries and laughter and taunts as the results of the first round are revealed.

You sit in an amused silence, watching them for around another twenty minutes and even getting to play once (albeit your minimal effort—Mario Kart always gives you a headache anyways), before quietly standing up as the boys are cheering over Wonwoo winning yet another match. Minghao looks at you as you raise yourself above him, and your stomach churns at the way he raised a brow.

“Leaving already?”

You shrug casually. “I think it’s about time I get to doing my own stuff,” you explain, throwing out a small smile before retreating to your room before Minghao—or anyone else—can notice or say anything. You’re grateful Minghao didn’t make a scene about you leaving—it’s not that you don’t like the boys (far from it), but you’ve been tired the whole day and were looking forward to a nice nap.

Settling into your bed after shutting your blinds, you pull the covers up to your chin shooting a quick text to Vernon to make sure he wakes you up for dinner if you didn’t wake yourself up in time. You shut your eyes tight, doing your best to ignore the tight feeling that settles at the bottom of your stomach.

The second you identify the feeling, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Your words don’t aid you, of course, because all you’re thinking about his stupid fucking Minghao and his stupidly hot face and his stupidly cute smirk and the stupidly handsome way he looks at you and— oh my god you need to turn your brain off right now.

You settle on not breathing, trying to pretend you’re dead, in hopes it’ll lull you to sleep. Of course, the effect is the opposite of your intentions—the lack of oxygen only reminds you of the way Minghao took your breath away when you first noticed him.

You huff to yourself, rolling your body over so your face is pressed into the pillow as you quietly curse to yourself. “God, I’m so fucked,” you whine, childishly pounding your fists against the plush of your mattress.

You’re being immature, you know you are—like a child throwing a tantrum—but who can blame you? He’s just so pretty and that smile of his is so endearing and you can’t help but find yourself so falling for him.

It’s a miracle that you fall asleep at all, let alone so quickly. You figure the exhaustion from the past week has finally caught up to you, even with the onslaught of attraction that came your way after seeing Minghao.

When you wake up, it’s much darker. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but the sky is painted a deep red which is bound to morph to purple within a few more moments before finally sinking into nighttime. You glance around and you realize that the only thing besides the outside light that’s illuminating your room is your bed lamp that you forgot to turn off.

You rub your eyes a few times, still in a bit of a groggy, drowsy daze, before remembering what woke you up in the first place—the knock on your door. “Hello?” you croak out, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth at the mangles sound that leaves your mouth. It’s quiet for a moment and you’re able to identify the faint voices in the rest of the apartment as Vernon’s friends.

Your mind is suddenly racing through the possibility of who could’ve knocked on your door and— oh my god! What if it’s Minghao?! What if he heard y—

You hear your name being called out softly and your speeding train of thought falters. It’s Vernon. Thank fucking god. “You up?” he says through the door and you pull the covers off of you to meet him at the door. Poking your head through the crack as you open it slightly, you squint immediately at the intrusion of light to your unadjusted eyes.

“Good morning,” you joke, stepping back to let him in. “Thanks for waking me up…jeez, I was knocked out,” you murmur to yourself, rubbing a hand over your face as you walk to your dresser to find yourself a comb. “What time is it?”

“It’s like six…the guys were worried that they were being too loud when I told them you were sleeping,” Vernon muses, pulling up his phone to scroll through something. “But I was like nah she sleeps through everything—and I was right,” he says with a laugh as you roll your eyes, trying to make yourself more presentable as you pull your hair back into a low do.

“Whatever…did you guys have fun? I’m assuming so since they’re still here…”

“Yeah, we’re ordering dinner right now. I told you they were gonna stay for a while. That’s why I woke you up too: I was gonna ask if there was anything specific you wanted—if you wanna eat with us of course,” he explains, holding up his phone to display the food delivery app he had opened earlier.

“Would that be okay? If I had dinner with you all?”

“Yeah of course, no one would mind,” Vernon assures you as you look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair, narrowing your eyes at your roommate.

“You sure?”

“Okay now you need to stop asking me if I’m sure,” Vernon huffs with a roll of his eyes followed by your laughter.

“Okay okay, fine,” you reply. “Give me like two minutes I’ll come out and we can decide something with everyone,” you say, ushering Vernon out. He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around to join his friends in the other room. After he leaves, you debate with yourself whether or not you should change or join the rest with your pajama pants and loose fit t-shirt.

Overcome with the still lingering drowsiness from your nap, you choose comfort, and decide to just throw on a loose cardigan over whatever you’re wearing now before stepping out of the room. A yawn escapes your lips as you enter the living room, catching sight of all the boys lounging around—some are seated on top of the kitchen island, legs hanging over the edge, while others are laying down on the couch with their feet kicked up, the rest with their legs folded on the ground.

You try not to stare at Minghao too much when he enters your line of vision, but the task is becoming impossibly harder the longer you look: he’s laid back on the couch, feet resting on a blonde boy—Jun, you think is his name’s—lap, and you don’t miss the way his arms are crossed behind the back of his head, shirt lifting up just enough to reveal a little bit of the skin that dons his torso.

You begrudgingly peel your eyes away from the marvelous sight when you hear someone call your name, heads turning to you once they realize you’ve finally joined them.

“About time,” the boy with sharp features from earlier—Jeonghan—says as a greeting, waving you over as he stands next to Vernon. “Come on, help us decide what to order.”

“D’you sleep well?” another asks, and you turn your head to see who’s speaking as you approach Jeonghan. You recognize the boy now as Seungkwan, and you smile while nodding. “I swear me and Chan thought you were dead!” he exclaims jokingly as you furrow your eyebrows.

The boy next to him shoots Seungkwan a death stare before speaking up, much to your amusement. “What Seungkwan means is,” Chan begins with a huff, “we were playing a game and Mingyu lost and he yelled and we were scared we woke you up but nothing happened!”

“I told you, she sleeps through everything,” you hear Vernon mumble from behind you, not missing the joking look that’s toying with his face. You roll your eyes and hit his shoulder, loud enough for everyone to hear and cause them to laugh, smiling internally at the reaction you were able to elicit.

“That’s not true!” you whine, looking over his shoulder to see what restaurants they were choosing from.

“Joking, joking,” Vernon mumbles, turning his phone so you could see better. “We’re choosing between Mexican and Thai. You can choose which, since we’re all pretty evenly split.”

You hum for a second, thinking about which you’re craving more, finally settling on, “Thai!”

There are some cheers that erupt behind you, and your face heats up right away when you turn around to see some of them (Minghao in particular) with cheerful smiles and fists of victory in the air. “Thai it is!” Vernon announces. “Tell me what you guys want,” he says before looking at you. “The usual?” you nod with a grin, backing away as he places the order while the others call out the array of dishes you want, making your way to the seating area to sit down by one of the sofas (totally not because that’s where Minghao was sitting).

As you settle down onto the ground, Minghao speaks up. “Do you want to sit here?” he asks, sitting up from his horizontal position, pulling his legs back to make space between him and Jun on the couch. Your eyes shoot up, darting between Minghao’s deep brown eyes and the space on the couch.

“Are you sure? You can lay down if you w—”

“Nonsense,” Jun says with a chuckle, and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on until you feel Minghao’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you up slightly as a direct invitation to take up the spot next to him. God his skin is so soft and his touch is demanding yet so gentle and it’s just enough to get the butterflies that you thought died off to be resurrected once more. “Our way of thanks for choosing Thai,” Jun tells you.

“Yeah,” Minghao agrees, and you try your best to focus on what he’s saying even if it’s impossibly hard with the way his body is pressed up right against you. He leans back as if to stretch his body, arms reaching back behind the couch and settling in the space behind you,

God, you feel like you could die on the spot—it’s not like he’s got an arm wrapped around you or anything so why does this feel so intimate? You can only hope and pray that he doesn’t feel the immense heat radiating off of you as you adjust yourself to sit more comfortably on the couch. In hopes to diffuse the tension that you’re kind of sure you’re the only one feeling, you speak up. “Do you guys want to watch something? A show? A movie?” you suggest reaching forward to pick up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“I’m down,” Wonwoo says with a shrug.

“Oh yeah!” Seungcheol speaks up, “I’ve been wanting to rewatch Batman for a while!”

“Batman then?” you, looking around at everyone as you click the remote to pull it up after you see the nods of their heads. You put on the movie, sinking back into the couch as you do your best to focus on the screen in front of you, and not the faint touch of Minghao’s arm to the back of your neck.

You’re successful for a bit, thankfully, but your peace of mind hardly lasts when the food comes in and everyone settles on the ground to eat—your and Vernon’s rule that there’s no eating curry on the couch. You, Minghao, and Jun slip from your spots on the couch and sit on the ground where your feet lay just a few moments ago, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of the little space you three are squished up against.

It’s a miracle, you think, if Minghao doesn’t notice the way your skin burns against his as his thigh is pressing right up against yours. This touch is different from the one in the afternoon—that one was…light…innocent. This one…this one’s different—it has you burning and yet shivers run down your spine. If you were a little bit more in your senses, maybe—just maybe—you would notice the tight lipped smile that tugs at Minghao’s li ps as well.

Oh my! Now the crush begins.

II. COME TO ME

That night, after the movie, the food, and some beer, the twelve boys shuffle out of the house at around eleven, murmuring soft and tired “thank yous” and “goodbyes.” You can’t deny that you’ve been…a little stiff the entire evening. Sitting next to Minghao for a good 2 hours wore you out—it was a constant battle between your moral consciousness and your…budding feelings.

Stop looking at him! You’d say one moment, but then, god—oh my god his hands! No! Stop! He’s so close to me —stop acting like you’re in middle school! But his smile is just so pretty, god he lights up the room , but wait, stop being so cliche!

Naturally, you're convinced you’ve gone insane. Once the boys left, you and Vernon are left in the comfort of each other’s silence before beginning to make small conversation as you guys begin to clean up (the others honestly didn’t leave that much of a mess, you were just a bit of a clean freak).

“Your friends are fun,” you tell him quietly as you throw out the food containers that you finished earlier. Vernon looks up at you with a small smile, and you can tell that he’s been anxious about you not enjoying your time.

“That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Why haven’t you brought them over before?” you ask curiously, pondering about how there might have been a chance you could have laid your eyes on Minghao ages earlier. “Aren’t they like your best friends?”

Vernon shrugs. “Well yeah, they are, but there’s a lot of them, like you saw. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that, today just happened to be a day where it was hard for me to say no to them.” You laugh heartily at that—the image of Vernon being persuaded by twelve guys looking at him with puppy eyes. “I really am glad you liked them though. If it’s okay I’d like to have them over more,” he puts out tentatively.

Of course, you perk up at that—maybe a little too noticeably. “I’d love that!” you say excitedly, before shrinking back down at how eager you sound. “I mean like, of course I won’t barge on your time with them but they’re really fun to be around and I’d like to see them more often,” you explain, placing your hands on the counter now that you’re done cleaning all the dishes. Vernon seems to catch onto something and you want to die from embarrassment with the way he’s raising a brow at you.

But if he does notice anything, he doesn’t say it, instead choosing to shrug again and trudge away from the kitchen. “That’s great. Can I have them over next Saturday?”

You blink once then blink twice. “Of course,” you reply without a second of hesitation.

Saturday can't come soon enough. With your own work to do, you find your mind drifting constantly to the face of a pretty man who you can't seem to stop thinking about. You need to scold yourself every single time you realize you're daydreaming—god no, more like fantasizing—about a man who you've not only seen only once, but is one of your roommate's best friends.

Daunting as it is, you're finding this whole situation quite...fun. You can't remember the last time you've felt something so pure and rejuvenating as this crush—gosh, you feel childish for calling it that but what else can it be? Your heart palpates when you think about him, your eyes ache to see his beautiful face again, and holy hell you don't even want to get started on the raw goosebumps you get when reimagining the moment where his skin brushed up against yours.

It's Friday night now, and your stomach swims with anticipation of what tomorrow will hold. You're sitting on the couch in your living room when Vernon comes home from the gym, dropping a bag of food on the kitchen counter. "Hey, I was at the gym with Mingyu and he got me some leftovers that his mom made," he tells you as you look up at him.

"Oh sweet," you say, relieved you won't have to go through the effort of figuring out what to make for dinner. "Your friends are coming over tomorrow, right?" you ask, feigning nonchalance—fucking acting like tomorrow hasn't been the only thing on your mind for the past one week.

"Yeah, they're gonna come up pretty early actually. I was gonna ask you actually, if you wanted to come with us since we're planning on going to the beach later. It's gonna be pretty hot and we haven't gone down in a while," he explains, beginning to open the bag of food as you get up and join him, trying to ignore the endless thoughts that run through your mind.

"The beach? Of course I'd want to come—wait, would that be okay with them? I wouldn't wanna intrude in on your day."

Vernon shakes his head with a chuckle. "Oh my god can you stop?" he says jokingly, "they were the one's who suggested, actually. Not that I don't want you to come either—I do—I just want you to know that they enjoyed you being there last week just as much as you did."

"Really? Who suggested it?" You hope you aren't coming off as too curious—Vernon is perceptive, and you'd be a fool to think he couldn't figure out exactly why you're so insistent on figuring out who asked for you to be there.

He seems preoccupied though, taking the food out of the containers, much to your relief. "Uhh, it was Minghao I think. But like everyone agreed after that, Jeonghan even said he'd pay for your ice cream if you came."

You're convinced the universe is bullshitting you right now. Minghao? Your Minghao? Asked if you could join them? At the beach?

You might just pass out.

Naturally, Vernon looks at you funny. "Are you good? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

You shake your head nervously with a smile, turning back to grab a piece of fried chicken he pulled out. "No no, I was just thinking about if I even have any swim suits—I think I threw them out last summer because of Jungho," you murmur, and while it's not the full truth about what you were just thinking about, it is something that's on your mind. Vernon looks at you with a frown.

"You threw them out because of Jungho?" he asks sadly. "Fucking hell, I forgot how crazy he was," he murmurs, looking down to take his own bite of the food. You shrug solemnly, finding yourself in a mood a bit more down than you'd like.

"Weird times," you reply simply. "Think I could just go to the beach in like some shorts and a shirt? It's just water after all."

"Yeah that should be fine. We'd be leaving before noon so I don't think you'd have the time to buy new ones anyways," Vernon agrees, pushing himself off the counter.

You nod with a smile, ignoring the small pang of sadness you felt just moments ago. "Sounds good."

You're a heavy sleeper—you always have been—and given that it's a Saturday, it's no question that you're bound to sleep until Vernon is banging your door to make sure you aren't dead. Seriously. Saturday morning, despite your excitement, kicks off with a groggy start. You're rolling around in bed, ming hazy as you aimlessly try and figure out what time it is and what exactly woke you up since you know you don't set alarms for weekends. It takes a few seconds for the knocking on your door to register in your brain.

You blink once and rub your eyes, squinting so that they can adjust to the light as you peer at the clock, realizing that—shit, oh shit, it's almost 11. Didn't Vernon say that his friends were going to be here in the morning?! And that they were gonna leave before noon?! Shit!

You're scrambling out of bed, digging through your drawer as you call out a meek, "I'n up!" to whoever's knocking on your door, throwing on the only swim suit that you—thankfully—found tucked away in your closet the night before, covering it up with some shorts and a loose top that you picked earlier as well. You're quickly faced with realization that you still look like you just rolled out of bed which, to be fair, you had. That doesn't stop you from frantically brushing through your hair, trying to put it into a simple braid before finally feeling ready to open the door.

You're expecting to see Vernon, in all honesty, since that's how it went the last time they were all over. The man standing in front of your door is, in fact, definitely not Vernon. No, the man in front of your door is Xu fucking Minghao, and you think you're absolutely fucked by the way your knees go week.

"Hi, sorry, I hope I didn't rush you," he greets politely, stepping back, allowing you to take a good look at him. He's wearing a white sleeveless shirt that hugs hugs his body tightly, followed by a blue hawaiian shirt that sits loosely on his upper half. His lower half is adorned by simple swim trunks, and you do your very, very best to not stare at his calf muscles.

"I, uh..." your voice trails off, in a haze from how attractive he is as well from your fading drowsiness. You rub your eyes once under your glasses before responding. "It's okay, I don't know why I didn't get up earlier," you huff to yourself, looking down, "I thought I would."

"Don't worry about it," Minghao murmurs, and he brings a hand up to your head on top of your hair to ruffle it a bit. You might just scream. "It's good that you slept," he continues, walking back to the living room as you follow him. "We thought you'd wake up from how loud we were," he says with a chuckle as you enter the room with everyone else in it as they turn to you.

"Yeah," Seokmin agrees through a mouth full of muffin, Joshua lightly hitting his shoulder and chiding him for talking with his mouth full.

"She's awake!" Jeonghan cheers playfully.

"i know Vernon said you'd sleep through anything," Chan begins to admit, "but literally do not understand how you didn't wake up until now. I swear, there was a moment where Soonyoung was just screaming at the top of his lungs and we were all wondering if that was gonna get you to come out but Vernon didn't even bother to check."

Your face burns at the comment, but there's a warm sort of feeling that bubbles up in you when they all laugh—it's not a mean laugh, no, it's friendly and it's kind, and it's making you feel welcome.

"You guys just don't listen to me," Vernon huffs, tossing you an orange from the kitchen. "We're going to head out in like five minutes," he tells you. "We need to figure out the car situation because I think Wont's car and Joshua's can only five each and mine can hold four."

The next few minutes are spent trying to figure out who's going to go in which car, everyone deciding that Seungcheol, Seokmin, Chan, and Jun would be going in Wonwoo's, Jeonghan, Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Minghao would be going in Joshua's, and Mingyu, Seungkwan, and you would be going in Vernon's. You won't and say that you aren't a teensy bit disappointed that you don't get to sit with Minghao, but the beach is only a twenty minute's drive away anyways, and you feel this is also a chance to get to know Vernon's other friends better too.

The car ride is fun, and you enjoy Seungkwan's cheeky remarks to everything, laughing along to pretty much everything he says, as well as Mingyu's oddly calm hyperness...? You aren't sure how to explain it but there's a constantly endearing and jumpy aura radiating from the tall boy, yet he seems quite tame for the most part. Nevertheless, you're entertained and excited to spend more time with them as Vernon parks the car on the beach, pulling out his phone so he can figure out where the other's are.

"Ah" you murmur, as the fourteen of you are grouped up finally, making your way into the hot sand and towards the water. "This is like the perfect weather for the beach," you say, wiggling out of your slippers so you can walk on the sand with your bare feet. Seungkwan is standing next to you as you both trail behind the rest of the crowd a little, the both of you immersed in the warm feeling of sand between your toes.

"I love the beach," he says, throwing his head back to look up at the bright side. "I'm from a beach town, so when I found out that the beach—and all my friends—were here, I just had to move here too, you know?"

"The beach is nice, but I won't lie, it always makes me so exhausted after I spend a day out here," you admit, dragging your feet across the sand, basking in the hot feeling it brings. "Who knows, I'll probably go home and sleep so hard tonight that even Vernon might think I'm dead," you joke, causing Seungkwan to chuckle.

You two continue to talk about the beach and Seungkwan's home town as your group nears the water, everyone beginning to set up their towels and the picnic blankets you bought. Everyone helps out, and before you know it, Mingyu, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Seokmin, and Seungkwan are ripping off their shirts and running towards the water. You watch them with amusement, standing up to shimmy out of your shorts and shirt.

Vernon looks at you, speaking, "You were able to get a swim suit?" he asks, confused considering your conversation with him last night. You smile somewhat sadly, and Minghao, sitting next to Vernon, can't help but notice.

"Uh, not really," you mumble, looking down at your black bikini. "I think Jungho just never knew about this one so I didn't get rid of it, and it was just shoved in the back of my closet or something. Anyways, I'm burning and I really want to get into the water," you conclude, turning around without giving Vernon a chance to respond.

As you run off into the water, Minghao turns and looks at Vernon him. "Who's Jungho?" he asks, shameless about his curiosity.

Vernon frowns as soon as he hears the name, and Minghao wonders just what kind of person this Jungho guy might be. "Just some ex. A really shitty one," Vernon murmurs, looking out at the sun. Minghao feels something uneasy churn inside of him. He gives Vernon that look, which tells him he wants to know more. "Like he just sucked. Didn't treat her right and shit. I didn't like him at all. None of her friends did. He tried to get her to throw out all of her swim suits and stuff because he didn't trust her at the beach or some bullshit like that."

"Goddamn," Minghao hisses, leaning back on his hands as he watches you play in the water. You looked like you were having so much fun—you were so at ease. He wants to chide himself for looking at the way your skin glistens in the sun, your bikini hugging your body in all the right places and in all the right ways. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about you like this, especially when he's only just met you a week ago, but that isn't to say he hasn't missed your quick glances. The way your eyes dart towards him, his body, his eyes, his lips, and quickly jump away when you realize he's caught you.

You feel the same way, he's sure of it. Minghao knows you feel the same tingles, the same sparks, the same rush of pure happiness when you see each other.

His thoughts are interrupted by Joshua speaking. "He made her throw out her swim suits?" he exclaims incredulously. "Insecure much," he mutters under his breath, and Minghao laughs along with that. "Good thing he's just her ex now—that sounds horrendous."

"Agreed," Minghao replies while Vernon nods, standing up to pull off his hawaiian shirt and top. "I'm gonna go into the water," he tells the rest of his friends before jogging lightly, following in your faint footsteps.

You're feet hit the water, and you stop in your tracks as you take a few moments to get used to the temperature change. You're looking up to see Seungkwan and Jeonghan waving you over to around twenty feet further into the water, but you call out to them to tell them to wait a second as you just melt in the feeling of the water against your toes. You stand there for a few moments before you hear a familiar voice coming up from behind you.

Oh. My. God.

You don't even want to turn around because you're scared of your reaction to seeing him shirtless—god, you aren't even sure if you'll be able to contain yourself! You think if you pass out, you'll just have to blame it on the heat, but still, how are you going to be—

"Hey," Minghao says cooly, stepping next to you in the water and holy crap, he's toned and he's practically glowing in the sunlight, the shadows hugging every peak and curve of his chest, his arms, his hands, his collarbone, his v-line—oh my god you need to stop. Practically ripping your eyes away from the wondrous view that is Minghao's body, you're forcing yourself to look up at his eyes (not that it's any less of a view—his eyes sparkle just as much as he does).

"H-hi." Did you just stutter? No fucking way you just stuttered. You think you might have to drown yourself right now. "I thought you were going to stay around with the others a bit longer," you say sheepishly. Minghao smirks at you, and he thinks now is his chance to try and fluster you up a bit more.

"Well I can't just let a pretty girl go into the ocean by herself, now can I?" he replies smoothly, taking a few steps in front of and waving you to follow him, and you would only if you hadn't just stopped breathing. How could he say that so casually!? How could he—wait. Wait! He just called you a pretty girl. He thinks you're pretty. Xu fucking Minghao finds you pretty, and he's saying it to your fucking face. You actually might die right now.

You can't even formulate a response, just tearing your gaze away from him and smiling shamelessly at the ground as you follow behind him slowly. Mission accomplished, Minghao thinks to himself, and something inside of him goes batshit crazy by seeing you so smiley and undone.

"W-whatever," you finally say as the water near to your hips as you two start nearing the others guys who are currently splashing each other with water. Minghao watches them, and get an idea, playfully splashing some water your way. You jump back quickly, eyes widening before you gasp. "You did not!" You quickly splash water back, but Minghao seems to see it coming and he moves out of the way. "Get back here!" you yell, running after him as he nears Mingyu, hiding behind the larger boy. With your eyebrows, you pay no mind to this, continuing to splash water everywhere, hoping that at least some of it will get on Minghao.

Mingyu puts his hands up, eyes scrunched up as he tries to block the water that's inevitably going his way. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Not me! Not me!" he cries out as the others laigh.

"Get Minghao!" you call out to the other boys who catch on quickly, joining you on your rampage against Minghao. Eventually there's just so much water splashing everywhere that within minutes you're all spent, gasping for air as you all try to rub the water away from your eyes. Once your vision is no longer blurry, you blink hard a few last times before turning your vision towards Minghao again and holy hell, you didn't think he could look any hotter than he did sitting in the sun but wow. His hair is wet and hanging low on his forehead but it's so messy and so hot and all you can think about is running your fingers through those locks yourself and making a mess in your own little way and—okay stop, you can't be thinking about this, especially not in public.

It takes a moment for you to fully calm yourself down before you're laughing with the other guys as they start to play a new game. You try to ignore the butterflies you get whenever you near Minghao, but it's a painfully hard task. You grow to accept the feeling as the minutes go on, simply existing alongside the bubbly feeling instead of pushing it down.

The next hour is spent in and out of the water, everyone else eventually joining those of you in the water, and you find that time is passing faster than you can even think. Time with them is fun, it's carefree, it's liberating, it's refreshing. Once you're all too tired and too spent, you're trudging back to the little spot you all have set up as everyone begins to pull out the food they packed. As you snack on your lunch, the fourteen of you sit in a circle and talk about the plans for the rest of the day.

"Let's play beach volleyball," Wonwoo suggests after everyone's finished eating, and it's no doubt that everyone else pretty much agrees immediately.

"Yeah, I saw a court in that direction, and I'm sure we'd be able to find a ball," Jihoon adds on as everyone stands up.

"I think i'll stay behind," you tell them all, leaning back on your hand as you fan your face with the other. "I'm kind of tired and I think I just need to sit down for a bit," you explain.

"That's okay, but you sure you won't be lonely," Vernon clarifies as he stands up.

You shake your head, but right before you're going to respond, Minghao speaks up. "Don't worry about her, I'll stay behind too." God, someone save you—your poor heart can't take much more of this.

"Oh okay, great!" Joshua says happily, the others standing up as well to go follow Jihoon to the volleyball court. "Catch you later!" You and Minghao wave at the rest as the drift off into the distance before being left in the silence that sits between you.

Minghao speaks first. "It's nice that you came, it's refreshing to have someone new, especially if they're like you."

You raise a brow at him, turning your body so that you're completely facing him, legs crossed as you lean forward. "Like me? What does that mean?"

Minghao gives you a sly smile, like he was expecting this. "Fun. Easy-going." He pauses. "Pretty."

"Is this your way of flirting or do you just enjoy being very direct about what you're thinking."

He laughs at that, throwing his head back. "Nice one. Those two are actually the same thing for me, so take that as you see it," he says with a shrug. You're face is on fire, and you're sure he can tell by now. Minghao catches on and he leans forward. "Is it working?"

"Maybe it is," you murmur nonchalantly.

"I think it definitely is," he shoots back with yet another smirk. God, you can't do this anymore. He's just so close to you and you don't know if it's because it's hot or if you're flustered or whatever but you're burning and not thinking straight and before you know it you're leaning in so close that you can feel Minghao's soft breath on your lips, stopping right before you two can connect.

It's the silent words now: kiss me, kiss me Minghao, and you almost think that this is true love when he leans in immediately after, heeding your silent requests.

Minghao's lips are plump and soft and taste slightly salty from the remains of the ocean water, in contrast to the sweet way he's got one hand cupping your chin. His thumb strokes at your skin and the touch is so light that you think you might go insane, gripping onto one of his biceps as you try to ground yourself in reality—in this moment, that you're scared might almost just be a figment of your imagination.

News-flash, it's not. In fact, this moment is very much real, very much happening, and very much one of the closest things to heaven you've experienced.

When you pull away, his hand is still on your chin and yours still rests on his arm. "I won't lie," you whisper, "I've been thinking about doing that all week."

"Me too," Minghao admits almost immediately, the revelation sending both shock and relief coursing through your veins. You let go of his arm, finally, and he drops his hold too, but you scoot closer to him so you're not sitting side by side as you face the ocean. "We shouldn't do anything else right now," he says quietly, and you know he doesn't have to say to know what you're both thinking. "I don't think you'd want the others seeing anything."

"You're right," you say with a nod, but you still interlace his fingers that are next to you with yours on the ground. Minghao squeezes your fingers back slightly in confirmation that this is very much okay. "Do you want to get something to eat? I saw some people selling fruit on our walk through the sand," he suggests after a few moments. You nod along, shuffling through the pile of clothes that are everywhere so you can find your shorts—it's sp warm out right now that your skin and swim suit have already dried off.

While you're fishing out your shorts and slipping them on, Minghao finds his hawaiian t-shirt and slips it on, although his bare chest is still very much on display, despite your poor heart's cries for him to cover it up—no! Don't let anyone else see! You blush bashfully at your newfound jealousy of others seeing Minghao the same way you do, but those thoughts are soon pushed away as he reaches out a hand to you to help you stand up. You grab his hand with a smile, following after him as you both head toward the fruit stands at the front.

"What do you want to get?" he asks you when he sees you squinting to try and see what they're selling.

"Pineapple!" you cheer when you realize one of the stands has your favorite fruit, and Minghao can feel his heart swell at the sound. "Can we please get pineapple? It's my favorite fruit and it's the best for hot days."

Minghao smiles and nods, and your heart nearly pops out of your chest. "Pineapple and mango?" he suggests as you stand in front of one of the stalls, pulling out his wallet. You nod before thinking for a moment, pulling out your own wallet before he has a hand a hand on your waist, pushing it away. "I'm paying," and it's not a question when he says it. You slowly push your wallet back into your pocket, mind racing with the thoughts of how a man can be as perfect as Minghao.

"Okay well," you reply, pulling your wallet back out in defiance, "I want to buy some fruits for the others too," you explain. "And I don't think it's fair for you to pay for all of that."

Minghao huffs, letting go of your wrist before turning back to guy at the stall. You two end up splitting the cost of five cups of fruits before returning to the set up on the sand that you have with your arms much fuller than before. Back once you're both sitting, you chat about whatever and you definitely forget how to breathe the multiple times that Minghao picks up a toothpick and feeds you the fruits himself. There's something so domestic and so comforting about the way you both smoothly speak, move, flow—being with Minghao is languid and despite your racing heart at the thought of being with him, you feel...relaxed.

This feels right.

After around an half an hour of talking, you find yourself laying on your back as you have Vernon's hat on top of your head as you listen to the ocean. "Should we go to find them? They'll probably be hungry by now and beach volleyball is starting to sound fun," you say, sitting up and readjusting Vernon's cap on your head.

"Bored of me already?" Minghao teases, sitting up as well, readjusting his shirt.

You roll your eyes. "You know that isn't it. The fruit isn't gonna taste as good later, even if we keep it in the cooler. It tastes better fresh," you reason.

"Fine fine," he murmurs in defeat and you grin, getting up to pick up two of the cups of fruit while Minghao grabs the other two.

"You know where they went?" you ask him, looking to your left and right, trying to recall which direction the boys left in.

"This way I think," Minghao says, pointing to your left and you squint, nodding excitedly when you see some volleyball courts in the far distance.

"Wow, that's pretty far," you think out loud as you both start walking in that direction.

"Can't handle it?" he coos, looking down at you as he takes his effortlessly long strides.

You scoff, turning your head away as you feign nonchalance. "Whatever."

"I'm joking," Minghao says quickly, reaching one hand over to pick up the cups of fruit your holding so that he's holding all four now. You're about to protest but he simply turns his arms away from you so they're out of your reach.

"Thank you," you say sheepishly, holding your hands behind your back as you two begin to speed up your pace when you both realize that the fruit will grow warm soon. It takes around seven to eight minutes for you guys to reach the volleyball courts, calling out to Vernon when you reach hearing range. "We brought fruit!" you yell, pointing at the cups that Minghao graciously carried for you.

The boys run over, almost all of them in a panting, sweating mess.

"It's like you read our minds," Seungcheol tells you and Minghao, picking a strawberry and stuffing it into his mouth.

Seokmin nods along, picking up a piece of mango. "We were just talking about how we're already hungry again."

"Yeah," Chan agrees, "and I think Mingyu was gonna pass out in the next five minutes if you didn't bring him something to eat." You all look at Mingyu who's sitting across from you, legs out and upper body leaning on his arms behind him as his face is scrunched up—he nearly looks like he's dying.

"Fuck you all!" he groans, falling back onto the sand. "I swear, Jun and Cheol were targeting me! They kept hitting the ball in my direction!"

Jun laughs at that, throwing a hand up to Seungcheol for a high-five. "Damn, I didn't think you'd catch on."

"How could I not!?" Mingyu whines, sitting up again to pick up another fruit. "I was on the verge of the death because of you guys."

Jeonghan ticks his tongue as everyone laughs, "Ah, don't be so dramatic Gyu, we were just having fun. Plus, who doesn't want to win."

Mingyu grumbles as he kicks some sand Jeonghan's way as everyone retreats back into the normal conversation of the plans next. After a few moments of discussion, you all decide to go back to your set up and stay there until sunset before heading home.

Once you all make your way back, the hours are spent chatting, building a moat (Mingyu and Chan seemed especially interested in this for some reason), and playing in and out of the water. As the sky begins to merge from blue to yellow to a deep orange, you begin cleaning up. At the moment, you aren't sure who brings it up, but the word "sleepover" gets thrown around and everyone is practically on their knees, asking to sleep over at Vernon and your place.

"Why our place?" Vernon complains. "Why not Minghao and Jun's? Or Joshua and Jeonghan's?" he begins throwing out the other's names.

"Because we like yours the most," Joshua says simply, everyone nodding their heads vigorously in agreement. Vernon huffs and looks at you for help, but you only shrug—you aren't sure how to respond to this and you aren't going to pretend like you aren't a teensy bit excited about the chance of Minghao spending the night (even though there'll be 12 other guys in your home).

"You guys owe us," Vernon finally says with a deep sigh, "big time."

The car ride back begins by Vernon, Joshua, and Wonwoo yelling at all of the passengers to not get sand into the car, and while you all desperately try to heed by their wishes, it's nearly impossible. You should've expected that nothing with this group is ever especially peaceful, but you're pleasantly surprised by how every event with them somehow has you bursting into laughter until your stomach hurts.

When you all return to your apartment, it takes a messy, chaotic hour or two for everyone to sort out when they would be taking showers, realizing that you should have planned this better once you knew that fourteen people would be scrambling to try and use your and Vernon's single shower. Once you're all washed up, you're left sitting in the living room, trying to figure out how you're going to pass the next few hours. Of course, one brings up Mario Kart, and suddenly they all perch against the couch trying to see who can beat Wonwoo.

It's now when you start to feel the exhaustion of the day catch up to you, recalling how you told Seungkwan that beach days make you tired. You excuse yourself to your room, locking the door behind you before slipping under the covers and nuzzling against the pillow.

In the silence—well not really silence, since apartment walls are thin and boys are loud, but still—of your own room, you find yourself catching a moment for you to properly think. And then it all comes crashing onto you.

Minghao. His lips, his eyes, his arms, his hands, his fingers, his lips (yes, his lips again), his touch, his gaze—and holy hell do you need more. You almost whine out loud into the sheets at the thought of having to wait for him any longer, your brain fuzzy from both your exhaustion and the tingling feeling that courses through your nerves.

Your mind races through the endless possibilities of what has happened and what can happen and before you know it you're falling asleep.

It's two hours later at around 8pm when you hear your phone buzzing by your chest, hardly lifting your head to see who it is. When you recognize the caller as Vernon, you hit the answer button, putting minimal effort into lifting the phone up to your ear as you grumble.

"God, do you ever stop sleeping?" he huffs on the other end, and you can faintly hear someone in the background laugh. You rub your eyes as you push yourself out of bed, rummaging through your drawer to pick out a cardigan to throw on.

"Sorry," you grumble with a yawn. "Beach days make me tired."

"I can see that. Anyways, we're in the living room ordering takeout, so hurry up if you want to have your choice," he threatens playfully.

"Alright alright," you mumble, trying to make your bed a little neater before leaving your room and heading towards the living room. They're all there, as expected, some movie playing on the TV as Jihoon is playing something on the guitar (where the hell did he get a guitar from?!) and Wonwoo and Mingyu are playing yet another game of Mario Kart on the Switch tablet.

"And she's here!" Chan exclaims, causing some eyes to turn to you. Minghao, sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen island turns to you quickly, and the eye contact has you turning into mush immediately.

"When you went to your room," Vernon begins to say, distracting you from your thoughts and placing a hand on your shoulder, "I thought you were just going to chill for a bit. I didn't expect you to be napping."

Seungkwan comes in and swats Vernon's hand away from you. "You're so judgemental Sollie! Let her be!"

"Thank you Seungkwan!" you agree immediately, turning to raise an accusing eyebrow at Vernon. He rolls his eyes and steps away, holding up his phone which has the food order on the front screen.

"Hey, I'm ordering your food!"

You step back, putting your hand sup in surrender. "Okay fine! Fine! What are we getting tonight?"

"Mexican!" Jeonghan calls out. "It's my treat!" Everyone cheers as you tell Vernon your order, sitting down on the ground in the living room as everyone bunches up in the middle to begin discussing the next big problem you all have—sleeping.

It seems like no one quite thought this out earlier but your apartment is small and fitting fourteen people into this space seems near impossible, especially when you know that they'll all insist on you sleeping alone in your own room. It's a hassle to pull out all the extra pillows and bed sheets that you have, everyone trying to clear space to make as many makeshift beds on the ground as they can.

Somehow, you're all able to fit eight "beds" in the living room, Chan and Seungkwan being the lucky ones to squeeze into the extra space that Vernon has left on his bed and Jun and Jihoon calling the spots on the sofa and arm chair. From there on out, time seems to pass easily with the thirteen of them, and you're starting to understand how Vernon's been able to be their friend for so long. The hours pass quickly and by ten p.m., you're spent and tired from the day—too tired to go on.

Before you know it, you're helping them all make the final touches to the makeshift beds, bringing out as many extra comforters as you can in hopes to make sleeping on the ground a bit more comfortable. Bidding goodnight, you wave to them all and retreat to your room, but not before staring at Minghao for maybe a little too long. He stares back, of course, and anyone else would miss it, but you don't—the way he nods slightly, before turning away to say something to Jun.

III. OUR DAWN IS HOTTER THAN DAY

It's eleven when you hear the knock on your door, and it's embarrassing how quickly you scramble out of bed to open it. On the other side, as expected, is Minghao. You're pulling him in without a second of hesitation, grabbing his neck and slamming his lips onto yours hard. His hands are making their way onto his hips immediately, moving up and down along your waist and torso to feel every inch of you that he can. You've both been waiting for this for ages, and it's about time you lose control.

"Hao," you whine softly as he presses you into your wall, his tongue running against the corner of your mouth. His only response is kissing you deeper, teeth clashing as you seek to explore every last bit of each other. Minghao swears he feels his dick twitch at the way you call him by his nickname, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

"You'll drive me crazy," he murmurs, kissing down your neck as you run your hands up and down his arms to feel the curve of his arms.

"That's the—ah—plan," you grunt as you sucks at one spot on your skin. Minghao continues peppering your skin with kisses before you feel like enough his enough, intertwining your fingers in his hair and pulling his head up so he can look at you. "Can I suck you off?"

Minghao is, undeniably, taken aback by your forwardness, and while his head his telling him to take his time with you right now, his other head is telling him to give in. In any other situation with any other girl, he would be denying you, taking his time to at least finger you first but he's been too pent up and too horny since the first time you kissed him to say no.

You're surprised when he quickly nods—you aren't the type to dive right into this kind of stuff but Minghao has been doing something that's reconnecting the wires in your brain, causing the overwhelming urge to sink to your knees for Minghao to crash into you.

The second you're on your knees, you have your hands on the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down at once with his boxers to reveal his length, long and pretty and hard with a bead of pre-cum dribbling off the end. You reach up, holding the base with a hand as you look up at Minghao to meet his eyes.

"Fucking hell," he groans, throwing his head back before you reply with a hiss.

"Quiet! They can't hear," you remind him, before adjusting yourself on your knees so you're in a better position to prod his tip at the front of your mouth. You drink in the way Minghao's breath hitches as your lips wrap around him, tongue swiping at the tip softly before pulling back.

"Don't—" he takes a deep breath, "don't be a fucking tease."

"'m sorry," you mumble, pulling your head back. "Can't help it." You kind of mean it and you kind of don't. Honestly, you aren't sure what to think—all you want to do is make Minghao feel good and do it now. Minghao notices the desperate glint in your eyes, and he takes this chance to wind his fingers into your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift pony tail so he can move your face in the face that he wants. The thought has you both going down into a spiral.

Minghao looks down at you so intensely that you think you just might cum from the look alone, but then he's speaking. "You okay with this?" he asks quietly, running a thumb along your lower lip with the hand that's not holding your hair back.

"Yes," you reply almost instantly, and your eagerness has his eyes darkening—you can see it.

"Fuck," he groans, leaning back again while he takes your hand that isn't wrapped around his length up to his thigh. "Tap twice if you want me to stop, 'kay?" You nod quickly, hoping Minghao will get the idea that you're beginning to grow impatient.

Message received, it seems because before you know it, Minghao is guiding your mouth back to the tip of his length, so you can take him in. Once you have your lips wrapped around him, he pushes you forward more, causing your eyes to widen as you realize he's nearly hitting the back of your throat. You take this as your chance to do exactly what you've been aching for, and you begin to bob your head back and forth.

The moan Minghao lets out is near perfection, and you're immediately encouraged to push more, to push deeper, to do whatever it takes to make him make that sound again. You're about to do it again before you feel your hair being tugged so that you're fully pulled off his cock. "Fuck," he chokes out, looking down at the sight of you with red, puffy lips and blown-out eyes. "Do that again," he demands, and you don't waste a second before you wrap your mouth around him and push down as far as you can. His hand is pushing at the back of your head, his soft words from above encouraging you to go harder to go deeper because you're his angel and he knows you can do it.

God, the words that are spilling out of his mouth are downright filthy but they're messing with your head and before you know it your moving your head back and forth in sync with Minghao's hips that are snapping forward slightly, causing him to batter the back of your throat. It's not the most comfortable feeling but the discomfort definitely not what you're thinking about when you hear Minghao's pants—his soft groans that escape his lips now that you've got him so desperate.

There's drool running down your chin and it's so messy but it's so hot and it has your pussy aching but you can't even think of relieving yourself—not when you can feel the vein on the understand of his dick against your tongue, not when his hand is laced in your hair with such a tight hold you think you might just pass out, not when you know he's so close to his release within minutes all because of you. "Fuck," he grunts again, snapping his hips once more, particularly harder and sloppier this time. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'll come soon."

Your jaw is aching by now but it doesn't compare to the throbbing you feel in your panties—god, you're going to go crazy. You use your hand to rub whatever of his length you can't fit in your mouth, using these last few moments to let Minghao jut his hip and shove your mouth further onto him and holy hell do you love it. You can feel it coming with the way he twitches inside your mouth and you can tell he's about to come when he pulls you off of him, before you're opening your mouth wide again, eyes silently begging him: inside my mouth.

It's like earliedirtr, when you kissed, except now it's so much more frantic, so much more ecstatic—Minghao hears your silent requests and only takes a second to push himself back into your mouth. You only need to suck once or twice before you feel it in your mouth—his cum, hot and shooting down your throat. He pulls out after that, you taking a second to swallow and then lick the glossy tip, your body filling with pride at the way you see his leg twitch.

"God—fuck," Minghao finally manages to say between sputtered breaths, "You're so hot." He pulls you up by the arm as he slips his boxers and shorts back on, placing a hand on your hip as he brings you up for a fierce kiss. Your lips are all swollen and Minghao is extra gentle with the way he runs his tongue along them, kissing you so softly you almost forget that he just face-fucked you less than a minute ago. He's pressed up against the wall right now, but takes this moment to flip you both so it's you who's leaning back.

Minghao pulls away from your lips, chuckling at the way yours chases his in the few seconds after, before connecting his lips to your neck like earlier. "Let me give you something in return, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree, nodding dumbly the second you feel his hand slip down your shorts, ghosting over your panties.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans as he pressed down through your panties.

"Hao," you moan, as he rubs little circles on your clit over the fabric, "please, please, hurry." Minghao chuckles and usually you'd be embarrassed but then again, there's nothing usual about getting fingered by your roommates best friend while all of his friends are asleep in the next room over. Minghao still is going slow with you, taking an extra moment to slowly push your panties aside. You're growing so impatient, the throbbing between your legs getting so impatient, that you think you might start sobbing. "I've been so good, Hao, please? I wanna cum," you beg, meeting Minghao's eyes as you look up at him.

God, you're doing something to him, he thinks—you might just be the death of him. You just look so cute and so desperate and the way your eyes are already glossy has his dick hard again. The fact that he didn't even have to ask you to beg for him is more than enough for a million thoughts to be racing through his mind, but in all honesty, the only thing he wants to focus on right now is making you come.

"Angel, fuck," he murmurs, into your skin, placing a kiss on your collarbone as he uses one hand to lift your shirt up to your neck so he can hold one of your tits, the other hand running through your folds so he can coat his fingers in your slit. "You wanna come?" he coos, prodding one finger at your entrance, and he thinks he might tease you a little longer but then he sees how quickly you respond and it has his resolve crumbling. He sinks is finger in and it's so long and so thick and reaches places in one go that you can't even even imagine of reaching with your own fingers.

You let out a deep sigh, instinctively grinding down on his hand so that your clit is also brushing against his palm adding to the stimulation. Minghao is gentle in the first few moments, moving his finger in and out at a steady pace before you murmur his name once more, causing him to push a second finger inside. "Oh my god, Minghao," you moan, and his eyes shoot up at yours, using the hand that was at your tits to cover your mouth.

"Quiet," he demands, as he continues to fuck you with your fingers. The sound of your wetness and his fingers against your gummy walls is echoing though the room and all you can think about is how dirty and how erotic this feels, and you moan again quietly again at the thought. Minghao's fingers still inside of you at the sound, and you feel your eyes widen and tear up once more. "Be quiet, or I'll stop," he murmurs, resuming his ministrations once he sees you nod.

"Minghao," you say quietly, throwing your head back when you feel him start to play with one of your nipples. "Feels so—so good," you hiccup, doing your best to keep quiet. He's fucking into you ruthlessly now, the pads of his fingers hitting spots you didn't even know existed, and you know your end is close by the way your vision nearly goes white. You grind against his hand harder, and Minghao picks up on the subtle movement.

"Gonna cum?" he breaths out and you don't even have it in you to say anything, your only response being your quickened movements. "C'mon angel, cum for me," he whispers into your ear and maybe it's his voice or maybe it's the way his fingers have you seeing stars or maybe it's the stimulation of your clit against his palm or maybe it's everything combined but you're cumming hard and fast within seconds around his fingers, and holy shit you think that might just be the best orgasm of your life.

You're left panting as Minghao's fingers slow down inside of you, twitching every few seconds from the overstimulation, before he's pulling them out of you and your panties completely. You want to hide your face, looking away when you realize how wet they are. "Why're you looking away?" Minghao asks, grabbing your chin so you can look at him. "It's hot," he tells you with a shrug, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, raising a brow. You're slightly embarrassed, yes, but you'd be a fool to try and deny him, opening up your mouth and suck your own wetness off him when he presses his fingers into your mouth.

After you swirl your tongue around him a few times, he pulls his hands back, replacing his fingers on your mouth with his lips, kissing you sweetly. You bring your hands up to his hair, moving your lips in unison as he places one hand on your waist, pulling your shirt back down to cover you.

"That was fun," you finally say when you're both pulling away.

"You're gonna drive me up a wall," Minghao mutters under his breath, taking a small step back. "But it was." He's silent for a moment before speaking again. "I'm gonna head back—wouldn't want anyone to wake up and find out I'm not where I supposed to be."

"You think someone would wake up?"

Minghao chuckles, and you feel those butterflies again. "You were pretty loud," he says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of your neck.

"Whose fault is that again?" you ask.

"Dunno," Minghao says casually. "He must be super hot though."

You click your tongue as Minghao walks backward toward your door. "Hmm, I'll have to agree with that."

He smiles and kisses you hard one last time before ruffling your hair. "Sleep well angel."

a/n. not even going to bother reading this through because i'll get embarrassed. dw guys i'm working on a better hao fic soon >_<

#xu minghao #xu minghao smut #xu minghao x reader #minghao x reader #minghao drabbles #minghao imagines #minghao smut #minghao fanfic #minghao #seventeen imagines #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #📝 writing

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storeecbrcod · 6 months

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In light of recent events (watch your back, Activision), I’d like to share a domestic Ghoap thought, or add to an existing one.

Soap and Ghost, living together. Whether it’s on leave, or after their time in the military, whatever. Usually, they take turns cooking; Soap is a good cook, whipping up delicious and hearty meals like his hands were guided by God himself (even if it looked closer to a failing juggling act despite the results, much to Ghost’s amusement). Ghost likes cooking, even if his food isn’t as good as Soap’s, because he likes doing things for Soap to help him. He likes taking some pressure off of his partner if he’s had a bad or tiring day (acts of service, amiright?).

Soap loves cooking. It occupies his mind, it’s something he’s got a natural knack for, and the end result is always worth the effort. While he’s never been one for instructions, he’s always shadowed his mam in the kitchen, which has compounded over the years despite not really having a space to cook since he was 18 unless he was on leave. All in all, it’s cathartic and helps him overcome his pestering perfectionism with small accidents that have no effect on the heavenly result, most of the time.

One day, Johnny tried baking. Unlike cooking, it’s not quite as smooth. Whether it’s baking paper that won’t rip right and won’t sit in the tray, or accidentally messing up the measurements, or having to go out to the store again because he forgot something, or trying his hardest to stir every little lump out of the batter, it just isn’t working right. He’s frustrated, struggling to understand why nothing was working as the recipe says it should, and he’s about ready to throw the batch of still lumpy batter at the wall.

Ghost, having been out on some errands, walks into the apartment to complete silence. There was always some sort of noise; music, tv, Soap’s own humming or playful singing or laughter. Now, though, it was eerily quiet, and Ghost couldn’t help but revert to creeping around silently, trying to find Soap.

When he enters the kitchen, he sees a scene. Flour spilled onto the counter and ground, a batter-covered spatula lying on the counter surrounded by opened containers of ingredients, and a metal bowl of batter sitting amongst it all, alone. As Ghost rounded the island, he found Soap sitting on the ground, legs out in front of him and his back against the corner of the cabinets.

If it wasn’t for the pure defeat on Soap’s face, Ghost would have laughed. Instead, he sighed, his concern melting to calm. He placed his wallet, keys, and handful of mail on an empty space of counter, then sat next to Soap on the floor in silence for a few minutes. He could practically feel the frustration rolling off of the other man, Soap’s jaw clenching and unclenching in silent irritation.

“What do you call a baker holding sugar in both his hands?”

Silence.

“Ambidextrous.”

A reluctant snicker later, Soap’s burying his face against Ghost’s shoulder, groaning.

“Ye’r fuckin’ insufferable, Lt.”

“And you’re a useless baker.”

“Aye.”

“C’mon, I’ll help.”

Ghost helps Soap finish up, fixing the batter as much as he could and setting it in the baking tray. They cleaned up as it baked, though somehow Ghost ended up with a face full of flour, and Soap ended up with his shit-eating grin being wiped off his face in surprise when a white handprint ended up on his ass with an accompanying chuckle.

When the offending brownies were finally done, they tried them.

“Steamin’ Jesus, these are incredible.”

“Not bad.”

“What d’ye mean? They’re beautiful, Simon!”

“Needed salt. And batter was over beaten, but yeah. Not bad.”

For Soap, it was yet another surprising thing he’s learnt about Simon in his time of knowing him. He was a damn good baker, a talent he’ll be looking to take advantage of in the future.

For Ghost, it was the first time in a long time where the memories of his childhood weren’t exclusively bad. Right now, with Johnny, he could almost feel his mother’s hands on his shoulders, a whispered “Good job, baby,” breathed against his ear like she used to in their own kitchen, with their own batch of brownies.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw ghost #cod mw soap #ghoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #cod drabble #ghostsoap #soapghost #domestic ghostsoap never fails to make me happy #soap is a great cook and ghost is a great baker #soap is me fr though

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99hook · 5 months

Text

home for the holidays

your friends get together to help tyler surprise you at a christmas party

a/n: i just wanted to write something with some of my fav comfort characters so here we are. it turned out way sillier than i thought so it’s not gonna collect dust in the drafts. enjoy babes 🫶🏼

“Something smells delicious in here” Jack says as he walks into the kitchen. He reaches for one of the brownies on the counter before Anna smacks his hand.

“Not until everyone gets here.” She sends him a pointed look. You glance up from the cake batter you were mixing and chuckled at them.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be helping with that thing.” Skye chips in from where she stood in front of the stove, stirring melted chocolate in a pot.

“What thing?” You asked.

Jacks hand stilled as he tried to make an attempt to sneak a brownie again. His eyes adverted between you and Anna.

“Uh, the decorations.” Anna blurted, smacking his hand again before she turned him around and pushed him away from all the food. “Go help finish decorating.”

Jack nods before he walks out, and you caught the look Anna sent Skye right after. You dropped the spoon in the bowl to get their attention.

“Okay, you guys are being weird. What’s going on?” You asked. You said it harshly but you couldn’t help it. You tried not to be, but you were still sad that Tyler couldn’t make it home in time for this Christmas party.

“Nothing.” Skye shrugs, avoiding your stare. You look at Anna instead. She’s focusing solely on organizing the chocolate covered pretzels on a platter.

“Anna” You raise your brows at her.

“Hm? Nothing. We’re just trying to get everything ready before everyone gets here. We’re running short on time, is that cake batter almost mixed?”

You look down at the bowl and nod, grabbing the pan she’s handing over to pour it in.

“So what’s next?” Skye asks as she brings over the melted chocolate to pour over some more pretzels.

“Let me see” Anna scans the counter. “I think we forgot something but I can’t place my finger on it.”

“The oreo pie” You muttered as you used the spoon to smooth out the batter in the pan.

“Fuck you’re right!” Anna throws her head back. “What time is it? Six? How long does that take to make?”

“Don’t worry about it” You tell her. “I only put that on the list because Tyler wanted it when he thought he was going to be able to come. We can leave it out. I think we have enough sweets.”

“No, we should make it.” Skye says. “I like oreo pie.” She shrugs.

“Yeah, me too.” Anna nods, opening the fridge to grab some ingredients.

You placed the pan in the oven and set the timer before you turned around to help. Just then, Julia and Willow both walked into the kitchen, their arms filled with bottles.

“Sorry we’re late.” Willow says as she sets the bottles down on the table.

“It’s fine, the eggnog mix is in the fridge.” Anna says as she crushes a bag of oreos on the counter.

“Feels tense in here. And why is Tyler-“ Julia gets cut off by Anna shooting her a glare and Skye was quick to talk over.

“What time is everyone else getting here?”

“What time is it now?” Anna asks.

“Six-fifteen” Julia says as she starts preparing the eggnog with willow.

“I told everyone seven. So we need to hurry the hell up.”

“Wait, Julia-“ You looked up at her. “Why is Tyler what?”

She glanced at Anna and Skye both. She got the memo but she definitely let it slip her mind.

“He’s on the phone with Jack, I was just wondering why he isn’t here with you.”

“He couldn’t make it. His flights not until tomorrow morning.” You shrugged.

“Oh, damn that sucks.” She says as she and Willow place some glasses of eggnog on a tray.

“Yeah, but it’s okay.” Skye nudges your arm with her shoulder. “She has her girls here.”

You smiled at that, but the smile fell when you finished the toppings on the oreo pie.

“Okay, I’ll be right back. If Jack tries to steal anything one of you slap him.” Anna directs before she rushes out the kitchen.

You placed the pie in the fridge and grabbed a sponge to scrub the melted chocolate off the stove. It wasn’t long after, Anna came back to the kitchen and announced that people were starting to show up.

———

Two hours had gone by and you found yourself back in the kitchen where the food and Jack of course was.

“Don’t tell Anna I dropped those.” He points to the trash and you glance over to see a whole sheet of her sugar cookies laying at the bottom of it.

“Dropped what?” Anna asks as she comes into the kitchen. Jack throws his head back and you raise your hands up and step away.

“You wasted all my sugar cookies?!”

“It was an accident! They were so good I just got too excited and they fell out my hand, I don’t know.” He shrugs as he stuffs his mouth with the chocolate chip ones.

“You know what, c’mon-“ she grabs his arm and pulls him away from the food once again. “It’s time for secret santa, everyone! Let’s go to the living room! Secret santa time!”

You followed them and everyone started filing towards the living room. Skye caught up to you with two glasses in hand.

“Here, you’ve been so sad all night. You need this.” She says, and you take the glass even though you questioned what was even in it.

“Why is it green?” You asked.

“Christmas colors.” She cheersed her glass with yours. “It’s just dyed eggnog.”

You shrugged and sipped it. It wasn’t bad.

“Who did you get for secret santa?” She asks as she sits down on the couch next to Kyle, and you sit down on the armrest next to her.

“Jack. Thankfully Anna helped me with it cause I had no idea what to get him.”

“Leopard print socks would’ve been what I got him.” She chuckles. “I got Orange. I didn’t know what the hell to get him so I went with a jean jacket like all his other ones.”

“Safe choice” You nodded as you sipped your glass.

“Okay everyone!” Anna clapped her hands together. “I know this is secret Santa and we should play by the rules but I have to go first cause my gift is the best. Sorry but it’s true.” She grins at everyone in the room.

She taps Jacks shoulder and he gets up from the chair he was sitting at next to the christmas tree. You watched him disappear down the hall but turned back around when Skye caught your attention again.

“Do you think this eggnog is a little strong?” She asks.

You looked down at your glass and shook your head. “If anything I think it could be stronger.” You shrugged before you sipped.

“Try mine. I can mix yours like this if you like it.” She says as she hands over her glass. You take it out of her hand, and then it’s taken out of your hand from someone behind you.

You looked back and saw Tyler standing there trying to hold back his smile.

“Happy to see me?” He asks as he steps around and stands in front of you. He handed Skye her glass back and cupped your cheeks, placing three soft kisses to your lips.

You looked up at him with eyes wide and a silly grin spreading across your face.

“Told you.” Anna pats herself on the back with a satisfied smile.

“I knew there was a reason why you guys were being so weird.” You shook your head.

“Shit, I almost gave it away.” Julia remarks from the other couch. “I saw him sitting in the back of jacks car like a weirdo and forgot he was supposed to be your surprise.”

“We had to hide him.” Anna defends. It was clear that she came up with the whole plan. “And it wasn’t easy since he kept trying to ruin it.”

“I was in that backseat for three hours” Tyler says as he slings his arm around your shoulders. “I just wanted to see my girl.”

“You were outside the whole time?” You asked.

“No, Jack had to stick him in the hall closet thirty minutes ago cause he said it was getting too cold in the car.” Anna tells you.

“It was getting cold in there.” He looks down at you.

“Wait, how did you even fit in the hall closet?” Willow chuckles.

“He had to sit criss cross applesauce. I was just gonna send yn back there and find him like that but Anna said no.” Jack adds.

“Not criss cross applesauce!” Kyle bursts out laughing. “This man is six foot tall. Why didn’t you just send him to one of the bedrooms?”

“Shut up, we had to think fast.” Anna snaps back.

“You’ll never catch me sitting criss cross applesauce in a closet.” Julia chuckles.

“I feel like that’s something you would do.” Jack chimes in.

“Who says criss cross applesauce? Are we in kindergarten?” Tyler looks around at everyone before he looks down at you with a smirk.

“Who sits criss cross applesauce in a closet?” Orange teases.

“Jack said if I ruined the surprise he was gonna be dealing with a pissed off girlfriend.” Tyler shrugs. “I didn’t have much choice.”

“Sounds like she didn’t buy you anything, Y/N.” Orange commented from the corner he sat in. Anna shot him a glare but everyone else in the room laughed.

You looked over at her and smiled when the laughter died down. “She couldn’t have gotten me anything better than this. Thank you Anna, you’re seriously the best.”

“I know.” She bashfully smiles before she sits down on Jack’s lap.

You feel Tyler’s arms sneak around your waist as he sways you side to side. He leans down and places a kiss to your cheek before he whispers, “I got you an even better gift, but I can’t give it to you here.”

A blush crept up to your cheeks as you leaned your head back against his chest, about to whisper something back before you were interrupted by Jack saying,

“I just heard all that. Please work on your whispering skills.”

“Yeah, I heard that too.” Skye chuckles as she shakes her head.

“Unfortunately so did I.” Orange mutters as he drops his head.

The room erupted in laughter and Tyler dropped his head to your shoulder to muffle a laugh of his own.

“Anyway, time for everyone else’s gifts. Good luck topping mine.” Anna pridefully announces.

As soon as everyone started passing around gifts Tyler determined that they were distracted enough. He turned you around and you recognized the mischievous look in his eye immediately.

“Sneak out?”

“The closets roomier than you think.” He shrugged, making you roll your eyes.

“Seriously Tyler, what the fuck” Jack called him out again. “My jackets are in that closet!”

You had to bury your face in his hoodie to hide the way your face blushed and when you pulled back he was doing all he could to hold back the widest grin.

“So sneak out?” You whispered.

“Sneak out.” He nodded.

———

taglist: @madhatterbri @730hook @multi-fandom-things730 @willowgreens @shawtys-things @justdamnpeachy @wickedval @730bliss @theworldofotps @madds-97 @gethooked @benjaminka @5secondsofmoxley @cypherpart15 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @littlemissbliss06

still getting used to adding the taglist and i’m sorry if i’m forgetting anyone. lmk if you wanna be added/removed!

#hook aew #aew hook fluff #hook aew x reader

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captainsophiestark · 6 months

Text

Like A Damn Disney Prince

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Prompt: Aphrodite; Love, Passion, Beauty, Desire, Rose

Summary: Elijah asks the girl of his dreams to accompany him to the Mikaelson ball.

Word Count: 1,396

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Just a second!" I called at the sound of the doorbell. I set down the whisk and the bowl of brownie batter I'd been working on, then quickly wiped my hands before heading to the door. I peeked outside to see who it was and found none other than Elijah Mikaelson standing there, dressed impeccably in a suit as always and with his hands behind his back. I smiled, trying to ignore my racing heart as I opened the door.

"Hi Elijah," I said. He smiled as soon as he saw me, and my heart thumped a little harder than before.

"Hello, Y/N. It's lovely to see you," he said. With that, he brought his hands out from behind his back and held out a rose to me, along with a nice manila envelope. "For you."

"Oh my goodness, thank you," I said, reaching out to take both items from him. He'd brought me an actual rose, while wearing a suit. Like a Disney prince.

"The letter is an invitation to a ball my mother has decided to throw. She asked us each to find a date, and I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather go with."

"Oh my gosh, Elijah! I... I don't know what to say."

"How about... yes?"

I beamed, holding the rose and the letter a little tighter to my chest.

"Yes. Absolutely yes, I'd love to go with you. I'm so happy you asked."

He smiled. "Excellent. I'd offer to pick you up, but my dear sister beat me to that request. She wanted me to ask you if you'd like to go dress shopping and get ready with her in, say, an hour?"

"Absolutely," I replied with a grin. "Rebekah and I are due some girl time."

"Wonderful. Then I'll see you tonight."

Elijah reached out and took my hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it before stepping away from me with a smile. My heart melted.

"Until we meet again."

With that, he turned and walked away. I watched him go, waving when he got into his car and gave me one last smile before driving off. I stood on my porch for a few more minutes after he'd gone, a dopey but happy smile on my face. I could already tell this night was going to be magical.

Rebekah showed up on my doorstep an hour later on the dot. She'd just finished asking Matt Donovan to be her date, and although she insisted she didn't have feelings for him I felt confident she was lying. Still, I didn't press her on it as we cruised the shops of Mystic Falls trying on every dress that caught our eye. Once we'd each found the one, we went back to my house to get ready.

"Oh. My. God. My brother is going to have his first heart attack in a thousand years."

Rebekah grinned at me as I twirled around the room in my literal ball gown, feeling just like a princess. We'd done each others' makeup and had gotten completely dressed, and now we were basically ready to go. After, of course, we properly hyped each other up.

"You really think so?" I asked, the heat rising to my cheeks. Rebekah nodded.

"I know so."

"Thanks, Beks. And Matt's absolutely gonna fall over at the sight of you, too."

"You're damn right he is," she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder and holding out her arm for me. "Now let's go, shall we?"

I smiled as I took her arm and the two of us headed out to the car. The last rays of sunlight still stretched over the town as we came to a stop outside Mikaelson Manor. Cars lined the street and every other available parking spot, the party already in swing as Rebekah and I arrived.

"I can hear your heart racing," said Rebekah with a smile as we walked up the steps side by side. I huffed.

"Great. Good to know my nerves will be loudly on display for any vampire in attendance."

"You don't need to be nervous."

She said the words as we came to a stop in the entryway, people pausing to look at us before carrying on with their evening. A little ways up the grand staircase in the middle of the room, I could see Elijah standing and talking to Klaus. When he glanced in my direction and first caught sight of me, however, he froze, mouth slightly open before a smile tugged its way onto his face. He said something to his brother, then started walking down the stairs and towards me.

"See? He's head over heels," said Rebekah, leaning in to whisper the words in my ear. I could hear the smirk in her voice. "I'll give you two some space."

With that, she disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, Elijah stood before me, looking even more handsome than usual (which I hadn't thought possible) in an immaculate tuxedo.

"I'm so glad you made it," he said, his words a bit breathless. He looked me up and down, his expression awed, and I smiled back at him. "You look... absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," I said, doing a little curtesy. Elijah grinned. "You look fantastic, too."

"You're very kind."

He paused, staring at me for another few moments, and despite the noise in the rest of the room I had a feeling he could hear my heart pounding. Finally, he held his arm out to me, grinning with a gleam in his eye.

"Come with me," he said. "I have a few people I'd like you to meet."

We made our way around the room, me holding tight to Elijah's arm as he at last introduced me to the rest of his family. I'd met Klaus and obviously Rebekah, but now I got to meet Kol, Finn, and his mother, too. I got the distinct impression his mother was up to something bad, and Elijah shared similar suspicions with me as we moved back into the crowd. But, for tonight, we decided to put every supernatural problem on hold and enjoy the magical evening together.

Finally, after a toast from the Original family themselves, it was time to take to the dance floor. Elijah immediately found me, offering a hand.

"May I have this dance?"

I smiled and took his hand. "Of course."

Elijah led me out onto the dance floor, twirling me into the dance's starting position amidst all the other couples. All kinds of different friends, foes, and otherwise interesting guests dotted the floor, but I ignored every single one of them. The rest of the room fell away as Elijah and I twirled into the first steps of the dance, eyes only for each other.

"I feel like I'm in a fairytale," I admitted, smiling as Elijah twirled me out and away from him before pulling me back into his chest. The look on his face sent warmth blooming through my chest.

"You certainly look the part of a fairytale princess."

I grinned, laughing a little and leaning my head on Elijah's chest. When I looked up again, I found him smiling at me, and in that moment I couldn't possibly have been happier.

"Says the literal Disney prince."

Elijah chuckled. "A Disney prince, hm?"

"Impeccable manners and honor, a true gentleman, handsome, dresses nice, and brought me a rose to ask me on a date? Yes. A Disney prince."

"I didn't realize I checked so many of the boxes."

"Easily."

"Well then, I'm very lucky to have found my princess."

I beamed at Elijah as the dance wound to an end, his arms wrapped tight around my waist as he held me to his chest. Slowly, just barely, he leaned down and glanced at my lips. I knew he wanted to take it slow for me, which I appreciated, but this was one thing I didn't want to take it slow on anymore.

"May I kiss you?" he muttered, voice low with only a few inches between us. I grinned.

"Hell yes."

"You know, I don't think Disney princesses swear-"

"Oh, shut up."

With that, I closed the distance between us and kissed Elijah, hard. He immediately returned the kiss, deepening it a little bit, although not too much since we were still in the middle of the dance floor. And just like in basically every Disney princess movie, in that moment, with Elijah, I knew I'd found my happily ever after.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

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devilfic · 4 months

Text

❝small favor❞

V. the christmas special.

parts: previously / next plot: it's the most beautiful time of the year. pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: christmas shenanigans, alcohol mentions, harry gets drunk for norman osborn related reasons, peter is a little ball of anxiety because he likes you, can I share with you what jobs I think ned and mj got after graduation. words: 8.4k.

a/n: this was gonna be a two-parter but I thought. no. so instead it's just super long :D

Peter has started visiting more.

There were the surprise visits on weekends. Something was just too important to wait a week, and too important to give you a call, and you liked that he made a note of bringing you food for the trouble. Then he was popping in on Wednesday nights—sometimes Friday mornings—because he'd forgotten to tell you this or he just couldn't wait to tell you that.

And he has texting you more, too. Not super serious things either, and after a few days of it, you had worked the fight or flight reaction to his ringtone out of your system. At some point, you had started feeling like this was becoming... a genuine friendship.

"I mean... I... yeah. We talked about it, didn't we?" Peter stops pouring, brownie batter dribbling off the lip of the bowl, "Friends. I- I think of you as a friend. If you think of me... as a friend."

You gnaw on your pen as you study him. It's another weekend surprise visit, and this time he's brought you boxed brookie batter as an olive branch. You'd actually been busy this time, and so you'd put him to work baking it while you made your vacation list, "It's just... crazy. I mean, we went from being strangers to only seeing each other once a week—purely professionally—and now you bake me things. And we hang out."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! It's just weird," he continues to pour as you talk, "I used to see you as this unattainable hero. I couldn't believe you trusted me, felt comfortable enough to tell me your name, to care enough that even EDITH knows who I am. And now we're friends."

Peter's nose scrunches at that, and you've never wished more than now that you could see the rest of his face. He starts placing balls of cookie dough in the batter, "You talk about me like I'm Beyoncé or something."

"You're the Beyoncé of superheroes."

"Hey, that is not true. That title goes to Captain Marvel."

"Not to me."

"Well, of course not to you. You're my biggest fan."

"Wow, demoted to a fan already."

Peter slides the pan into the oven, "You know what I mean. You're biased."

"You're starting to sound like Jameson now."

He kicks the oven door closed and hops up onto the kitchen counter next to you, nudging your knee with his knee, "Oh, you haven't heard my Jameson impression. Watch this." Peter clears his throat, clenches his fist, and shakes it in the air, "Spider-Man is a menace and should be charged with domestic terrorism!"

You giggle, "Do more."

"5G isn't giving your kids cancer, it's Spider-Man leaving his webs all over the city!"

"More!"

"Spider-Man is laying eggs in our city's sewers so that one day, all his freaky spider children will rise up and take over New York!"

"Please, keep going."

Peter groans. You see his head tilt toward the notepad in your lap, "How's the vacation going? Or vacation planning, I guess."

You sigh. Your list to pack kept getting longer, and yet, anytime you tried to focus on what to bring, you would just remember something else you needed to do before leaving New York. "How do you think, based on my utter lack of excitement?"

Peter raises a brow, "Whaaat? You're not excited for Miami?"

"I was, but... everything in the world is happening at the same time. Jameson wants me to get two more articles out before I leave and my family wanted me in Florida three days ago. At this rate, I'm just barely going to make it there before Christmas. Not to mention..." You trail off as you look to Peter, whose mask eyes have gone comically wide in interest, "I don't want to leave you all alone."

"You know I've been Spider-Manning since I was like, 14, right?"

"Well, yeah, but- wait, 14?" Peter grimaces. You gloss over it before he can worry himself about it, "Anyway, I just worry. I mean, with Fisk turning the PR tide and God knows what he's planning, I don't wanna just fly to the other side of the country. It feels wrong."

Peter smirks, "Nah, nah. It's fine. I can take care of myself."

"Don't make me remind you about how all of this," you gesture between Peter and the oven, "started." He looks away from you, sheepish. "You know what I mean, right? Maybe I'm overestimating my worth to you, but-"

"You're definitely not. You have no idea how much you mean to me." That stuns you. It stuns both of you, clearly, if Peter's frantic peek at your face was anything to go by. His mouth gapes like a fish out of water for a moment, "I just mean that... you've made being Spidey... easier on me. It's nice knowing someone's actually on my side in this city. So yeah, it will feel really weird without you being just a swing away."

"You can still call, Peter. I won't mind."

"And when your family asks who's bothering you while you're sunbathing on the beach?"

"I mean, my little cousins will be impressed if I name drop Spider-Man."

He smiles. He kicks his feet out, heels bumping the cabinet doors beneath you while silence settles. You take this chance to examine a slight fraying on the fabric of his suit, a hole beginning to form on his upper thigh that you could just fit your pinky through. You remembered a time when his suit was made out of sweatpants and a dream.

He was 14 when he first started all of this. When you were 14, you were stressing over high school essays and alien invasions. You couldn't help but think that maybe he'd lost his youth to this thing. This thing that brought you together.

Spider-Man who, back then, was really a kid. He'd had to grow into it. You couldn't imagine having to grow into that. "Well, that's enough about my holiday plans. What about you?" Peter prepares to answer, then deflates. "What's up?"

He bites his bottom lip, "I don't... have any."

Your heart sinks, "What? Why not?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'll probably be out on patrol making sure everybody else is having a safe, criminal-free winter break."

Sliding off the counter, you come to stand in front of Peter with your arms folded, "Absolutely not."

"Okay, before you say anything-"

"It's Christmas, Peter! You're supposed to take time off! Be with friends and family. If you never take a break, you'll wear yourself out."

"Just hear me out-"

"No! I won't have it. You're not the only hero in New York. You're taking Christmas off. I don't care if I have to stuff you in a carry-on and take you with me but you will not be working-"

One hand clamps around the back of your head and the other silences you, turning your complaints into mush, "If you would let me finish..." you huff indignantly against his hand, "you'd know that a friend of mine is throwing a Christmas party and I was invited. There. I have plans."

Your face softens. "Really?" You ask, but the sound is muffled and it comes out more like, "Will-ee?"

Peter laughs, hand slipping from your mouth, "Really. I'll at least take a few hours off. Maybe more if I fall into a food coma."

Peter's other hand is still cradling your head, but you don't bring it to his attention. "You promise? I won't have to fly back early and check up on you, will I? 'Cause I'll do it."

"I wouldn't stop you." You glower, making Peter's mask eyes squint with amusement, "I promise."

"Sometimes I think you like making me worry over you."

"Would you believe me if I said that I'm just this awful all the time?"

"Yes, but that would make me worry even more."

The hand at your neck gently curls around the side of your throat, Peter's thumb angling your chin up to his own. The brush of it makes you tremble just slightly.

Was he trying to make you dissolve into a puddle?

"I'll be okay. Just... come back to the city, will ya? Don't fall in love with Miami."

You place one of your hands over the hand on your throat. The other hovers somewhere near his knee on the countertop, unsure of yourself. When you admire his exposed mouth, you think of Peter. Parker.

You remember you hadn't actually talked about that since it happened. It was Peter's intention to skirt around Parker, regardless of how certain you were that they were the same person. It was all in jest, sure, but some small part of you (some incredibly small, minuscule, microscopic part of you) wondered if your reporter brain just fit the two pieces together because it wanted them to fit.

Perhaps he wasn't Peter Parker. Perhaps this really was all a coincidence, and perhaps aliens didn't fall from the sky and gods didn't save the world.

You wouldn't push him on it. You wouldn't look into it either, because reporter brain be damned. You cared more about the Peter you knew than the Peter you didn't.

You smile up at him, "How could I? Miami doesn't have you."

"Nice to see you could finally make it, kiddo." Jillian is grinning at you when you arrive, her baby tucked at her hip and her wife entertaining the little monster over her shoulder. She sees the winded look on your face and immediately motions you over, pressing a hand to your cheek, "Did you crawl out of a snowdrift? You're freezing!"

You lean into it, chasing the warmth in hopes that it would restore some feeling to your skin, "The storm's getting awful out there."

"Came outta nowhere, didn't it?" Jillian's wife snorts, booping the baby's nose. "We almost didn't risk coming with the little one, it was so bad."

Said little one looks perfectly warm wrapped up in her blanket, an envious sight as you shiver and shuck off your coat to hang. You would offer the kid a boop on the nose yourself, but with your fingers frozen solid around your offering—a plate of sugar cookies—you don't want to make her cry. You give her a smile instead.

"Oh, and would you believe it?" Jillian whispers, sidling up to you, primed for gossip, "We've got a real treat here tonight. Take a wild guess who decided to show up."

"Jonah's wife?"

Jillian cackles, "God no. The stalker."

As soon as she says the name, your eyes zero in on him.

He's wearing that plaid shirt again, but the collar and cuffs are all that peek out from underneath a wrinkly blue sweater. His hair is free and gelled back, revealing his nervous expression more clearly. Nursing a cup of apple cider, he just barely looks like he wants to be here. But then he catches your eye across the room.

And he waves.

"Oh my," Jillian teases, "you must've left quite the impression if he came all this way just to see you."

"He did not come just to see me." You reply in a hushed tone, but she laughs at you all the same.

"Sure. And that's not him heading over right now, even though he's been hugging the wall all night."

You jerk your head to where Parker was standing, and, sure enough, he's pursuing you.

You part from Jillian before she can get the chance to embarrass you (she accepts your cookies as payment), and so you all but jog to meet him halfway.

He doesn't get the chance to be polite before you're interrogating him, "Where did you go?"

"Uh... What?"

"At the gala. When I ran back inside the ballroom, I couldn't find you anywhere."

Peter's eyes slowly widen, "You went back inside?"

"Answer the question, please."

"Wh- I... I was there. You didn't see me?"

"No, I didn't."

"It got crazy after Fisk rushed the stage. I got swept up in the crowd. You must've missed me."

"Really? 'Cause I was with the crowd, you know. In front of the building? Where Fisk was giving his big speech about how he saved the day? I didn't see you anywhere."

Peter blinks, then gasps as if he'd just remembered something important, "You know what? That's right. I went to go find Harry. I wanted to make sure he was alright, and then I couldn't find you in the crowd so I just assumed... I'm sorry for leaving you back there all alone." You watch as he fumbles for something convincing, "I texted Spider-Man about it, though. He said you were safe."

You fold your arms, "...Is that all he said about me?"

"Well, that. And something about your conspiracy theory?"

"Conspiracy theory."

The topic change gets some of the tension in Peter's shoulders melting away, replaced with a smile faint enough to not pass as overtly smug. He waits for one of your co-workers to move out of earshot before continuing, "You think... I'm Spider-Man."

Your jaw tightens. You know that anyone would draw the same conclusions you did after that night. You also know that no matter how logical your reasoning is, you sound highly illogical when you admit to it out loud. If you brought up the same accusation to Jillian or Jameson, they'd both laugh you out of the office.

You have to stand your ground, though. If there was one thing you were learning about Peter, it was that he was easy to fluster, "And if I do?"

"I'm flattered, really, but I don't really have the hand-eye coordination."

You know it's bullshit. He should know you know it's bullshit. If it hadn't been for his quick thinking, you and Harry would've been trampled under the masses at the gala. It's bullshit and he's waiting for his checkmate that will never come.

You do not give it a second thought. You toss your phone at Peter's head.

And he catches it. Of course he does. He stops it mere inches from his face.

If anyone saw you try to give him a concussion, they don't come over to question you on it. "Can you..." Peter starts after a breath, a bit dazed, "...can you stop trying to hit me?"

You go to defend yourself because, at the very least, you hadn't meant to try to punch Peter—which meant it didn't count—when someone barrels right into you.

And, to prove you right twice in a row, Peter is quick to catch you. He scoops you up into his arms before you end up a reporter pancake on the floor. One of your co-workers, already blitzed off spiked eggnog, had bumped you on their way to the drinks table for what looked like the umpteenth time tonight, and didn't have enough marbles to apologize before bumping someone else.

Peter is careful in how he holds you. There's that unmistakable strength behind his grip, but also... he was gentle. He felt safe.

You don't make to escape just yet, all your bravado knocked right out of you. "Jesus, you okay?" His eyes dart over to your co-worker and a scowl turns his expression sour, "Jonah should put a cap on the drinks."

You feel more than embarrassed stumbling to your feet, even more so when Peter still coddles you after you're standing upright. "I'm fine. Thanks." Peter's looking at you, brows drawn together, with so much concern it makes that second thought from earlier come in hot with a sizable topping of shame, "Talk about instant karma."

Then it's gone. Peter laughs and... it sounds just like your Peter. Undeniably. You can't help but give in. For a fleeting moment, the question of secret identities has melted away and it's just the two of you, giggling about something silly.

You're ashamed enough to apologize for throwing your phone at his head when the laughter dies down. You succeed in stealing it back and lead him over to the windows, far away from any more drunken disasters, "It's alright. I've had worse thrown at me before."

You raise an eyebrow, "Oh? Like what?"

His voice catches in his throat at first, "A... carton of expired milk. High school bully, Flash Thompson. We were both on the same academic decathlon team but he never gave up on his dream of professional baseball."

"Flash Thompson? You mean, Silicon Valley, MIT grad, tech startup millionaire Flash Thompson?"

Peter winces, "The one and only."

You frown at the distant look on Peter's face, aware of some regret there at the mention of Flash. "You and Harry went to ESU together, right? Is that where you always wanted to go?"

Peter shakes his head, but a smile comes to his face regardless, "MIT was my first choice, actually. But... even with a scholarship, I just couldn't imagine leaving New York behind. So I stayed. Went to ESU. Helped my Aunt May with the mortgage on her first house since my... my uncle passed. And now I'm selling pictures of Spider-Man to pay my rent."

You can't help the way you soften. "I'm so sorry about your uncle, Peter. Your Aunt May is lucky to have you around."

His eyelids flutter closed for a breath, and his smile grows wider. If it were even possible. "I'm lucky to have her."

You stand there together in silence after that, but it feels more comfortable than before. All the scrutiny and speculation you'd come in with had faded away, and now you were left wondering more about Peter. His hopes, his dreams, his life before all of this. What would it have been like if he'd gone to MIT? Where would you be? Or Spider-Man?

Peter's eyes peel open, "So, what about you?"

"Oh. Well, I took a shine to my school newspaper. After... everything in 2012, I knew the world would never be the same. So I had dreams of becoming a journalist, covering the street, being the first on the scene. Took my ass to college on part-time jobs and a dream, and interned at nearly every newspaper in the city before Jameson gave me a shot here. As much as I can't stand the way he talks about Spidey... he's not that bad of a guy. All things considered."

Peter agrees, "He did hire you, so..."

"Yeah, well," you lean your cheek against the window, glass cooling your blush, "At least Spidey doesn't hold it against me... but, I have to ask: why the Bugle? I mean, with photos like yours, you should be fighting off every publication in the city. Instead you turn in these... absolute masterpieces, freelancing, for a guy who can't even give you due credit, and you only stop by for a paycheck."

Peter looks to the window, the wind howling over a crooner's cover of Santa Baby. The storm was still raging on outside, and you dreaded the thought of having to walk through it to get back home. The taxis wouldn't have much luck either from the looks of it. "I... like my job, but it's not what I wanna do forever. I don't care about fame or Pulitzer prizes. It's always been about taking care of me and my Aunt May, and Jameson is a lot of things but he's always understood that. He pays me enough that I can have a place of my own and a little leftover for my aunt, and he doesn't ask questions.

"I don't need to be seen. And that's the whole point, isn't it?" His expression gradually warms as he recalls something, "It's not who's behind the lens that matters, but who's in front of it."

Your expression warms too, "I can see why Spidey likes you."

A notification disturbs the moment. Raising a finger at Peter, you check the latest notification... and your stomach drops.

Peter takes a step forward, sensing the change in atmosphere, "What? What is it?"

"My flight's been cancelled. I was leaving tomorrow for Miami but the storm..."

"Oh. Man, I'm sorry."

"I should've left sooner, I should've left when my family..." You lose the motivation to even finish your sentence, feeling exhausted all at once, "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm stuck here for Christmas."

Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet as he searches for something to say. You're about to tell him not to worry about it when he speaks up, "You know," he starts, the uncertainty in his voice giving you pause, "it's no... Miami, but my aunt throws this Christmas party every year? For Christmas Eve. We invite a few friends over for dinner. She'd love it if you came."

"Oh, Peter, that's sweet but... I don't really want to intrude on a friend thing-"

"No, no, it's okay! Anyone can come. It'll just be my aunt, some of her co-workers from F.E.A.S.T., a few of my friends, my ex-girlfriend-"

"Your- what?"

"Oh. Well, I mean, we were friends before we dated. Well... technically? She sort of just... hung around me and Ned in high school and then we started dating for a while but then we broke up in university. But we stayed friends. Became better friends, actually. So, she's my ex but also a really good friend. I promise it's not weird or anything. She's super cool about it. And I am too! Her name's MJ. I think you'll like her."

You stare at Peter. You think you see a bead of sweat twinkle on his forehead underneath the Christmas lights above.

He insists that you're welcome to come, and staying home alone for Christmas would be pretty hypocritical after your argument with Spider-Man.

Spider-Man.

"...and Spider-Man will be there."

Spider-Man?

You abruptly lock eyes with Peter. "Spider-Man?"

Peter's smile is tight-lipped, "Yeah." His voice cracks. "I mean, he's just stopping by real quick, but I invited him. He might not come. But... he also might."

Was this the friend of his throwing a Christmas party? Why in the world would Peter (Parker) invite you to the same party Spider-Man would be at, unless he could stand in the same room as him at the exact same time? There'd be no other way to convince you otherwise, and you'd be forced to accept that they really were two completely different people.

Yeah, right.

You'd go to this party and suss it out for yourself.

And it wouldn't hurt, would it? Peter was nice, if not the most awkward person you've ever met. To offer you a place at his aunt's Christmas dinner not long after hurling an object at his head was a sign of true Christmas spirit. You could learn a thing or two from him, "Okay. You've convinced me. What's your number? You can text me the address."

Peter blanks for a moment, "Um... yeah, um..." You watch him flounder, growing increasingly suspicious, "Can I see your phone?"

You drop your phone in his hand. His fingers move quickly across the keyboard before returning it to you. Peter Parker is now in your contacts. You check the number against Spidey's but there isn't a match. "Thanks," you glance at his wobbly smile, "I sent you a text."

Peter gestures behind him, "Oh, cool, awesome. Will you excuse me for a sec? I gotta use the restroom." And he doesn't wait for you to affirm before he's rushing down the hall and out of sight.

A full minute passes before you receive a text back from Peter.

15 Amfan Ave Forest Hills, NY 11375 7pm :) Hope you can make it! He never shuts up about you *I *shut

Hm.

So... I hear you're throwing things at people now Who told you that? You lose one phone, then you try to bludgeon an innocent man with another. I should lock you up and throw away the key I wasn't trying to bludgeon him, because I knew he'd be perfectly *fine*. And he helped me prove a point Which was... That the chances of him being you are more likely than either of you would have me to believe Could it be that you just have a thing for attractive, masked men? That is That is irrelevant to the conversation HA you so do Literally nothing to do with anything I just said It's okay. The mask makes it really easy to project one's ideal man onto me. Or so I've learned through Twitter I'm not projecting *anything* onto you Do you picture Ryan Reynolds when you talk to me? It's okay if you do Peter, shut up Maybe someone more boyish like Timothy chalet Timothee Chalet Timothee Chalamett I'd say you just like hearing yourself talk but this is a textual conversation I like that we can talk like this :) I like it too :) What about Tom Holland? We've got the same jaw If you think me accusing you of being Parker is me projecting a handsome man onto you, I can only assume you think he's hot. Which means I can assume you have a thing for him. Because I can also make things up Like Batman and Clark Kent? Are you saying Parker is the Clark Kent in our fictional relationship? More like Superman and Jimmy Olsen And you're my Lois Lane? ... Goodnight, Peter

Aunt May's home is beautiful. There's a lovingly sculpted garden out front that has since given into the snow, but you can tell it's a sight in the spring. For now, the Christmas garland lining the doorframe—wrapped in a rope of rainbow lights—brightens up the porch. As does the collection of little striped sweater-wearing gnomes gathered around the front door.

There's a commotion of voices behind it as you approach. You shift your plate into one hand, pressing the doorbell with the other, and the voices get louder. You swallow down your nerves when the door is ripped open by a stranger.

The stranger in question is staring out into the dark at you like they weren't expecting you. Your eyes quickly dart to the plaque beside the door and see a bold "15" emblazoned there. Nope. This is the house.

Their eyes zero in on the plate in your hand. Smiling, they open the door wide and step back, "Sweet! Peter said you'd bring dessert."

You kick the snow off your boots before stepping inside. The stranger shuts the door behind you before any more of the cold could get in. "It's peppermint bark," you explain, returning a smile of your own, "but I hear May's making a cake."

"May and Peter. May's great with everything but the oven- don't tell her I said that. I'm Ned, by the way." Ned holds his hand out for a shake.

Ned is really talkative, you find out. He holds your peppermint bark as you undo your boots and coat at the door, rattling off about how Peter and he had been friends at Midtown. He tells you about his job as a cybersecurity specialist, a job he'd naturally floated toward after graduating from MIT, and how he'd stayed with the Parkers for a few months after moving back to New York. It's how he knows that the downstairs bathroom door won't close unless you lift up when you shut it. You only remember about half of what he says by the time you get to the living room.

There are considerably fewer people than you expected, one of which makes his way over the minute you catch his eye.

"Hey," Harry grins. Unlike the nice suit he'd worn to the gala, he's dressed down in jeans and an ugly sweater with "I've been naughty" printed in big letters across the front, looking a lot less tense than when you'd first seen him, "Fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same." You can't help but ask, "Don't the Osborns host Christmas Eve at Oscorp tower every year?"

Harry's good mood fizzles out right before your eyes. You feel pretty awful about it. "Uh, yeah. Norman does. But it's more business than anything, so I dipped. I'd rather be here watching Pete fuck up a perfectly good cake."

"I heard that!" Peter's voice calls from a room away.

Harry's good mood returns, "Well, it's good to see you at the annual Parker holiday celebration. And I'll forgive you for poking into my family business if you hand over those treats."

Bashful, you let Ned pass the plate into your hands before passing it to Harry, "Sorry. Reporter brain."

Harry's nose scrunches up, "Don't apologize. Unless these taste like ass."

"I promise they taste better than ass."

"Good enough," he backs away, turning his head to shout down the hall, "Peter! Get in here already!"

When the redhead is immersed in a game of UNO, you turn to Ned, "And that doesn't... feel weird? Having Harry Osborn at family dinner?"

"There are weirder things about Peter. Speak of the devil."

The ugly sweater is the first thing you notice. A companion to Harry's, it is nearly the exact same design, except for the "I've been nice" where the "I've been naughty" had been. He's dusting his hands of something when he comes around the corner. His eyes soften when he sees you with Ned, "Hey, you came." He says in a much too gentle voice. Harry and his opponents nearly drown him out with their cheers and boos.

Unlike at the office party, you notice, Peter's hair isn't tamed by hat nor hair gel. Instead, it curls incessantly around his flushed cheeks. He looked like a damn Keebler elf. It was frustratingly adorable. "Of course. I heard there'd be cake."

"How is that cake, Peter?" Ned pulls on a piece of the ugly sweater as he walks by, and you realize that some of the red had been singed. You follow Peter's frantic gaze from the hole to you.

"This was unrelated to the cake."

"You burned something else?"

"No! One of the stockings fell into the fireplace and I-" Peter trails off as you begin to smile, "you don't get to laugh at me if you didn't bring sweets."

"I did! Harry stole them." You nod over to the coffee table where the group is devouring your peppermint bark with reckless abandon. At least you knew they didn't taste like ass. Peter rushes over to steal the plate before they could polish off the last handful, much to their protest.

"Dinner's almost ready, I swear. You've met Ned, uh, Harry..." Peter scans the group, using his free hand to point out people, "...that's Yolanda, Katie, Lexie, Eduardo: all May's friends. May's in the kitchen but I'd stay out of her way until the ham comes out unharmed."

You notice that out of everyone gathered in the house, he does not mention his ex-girlfriend. "And MJ?"

You wait for an answer. Instead, something heavy shakes the house from above. It doesn't sound like it came from outside, but rather somewhere in the house. Not quite above your head. Weirdly enough, only you seem to be concerned about it.

Peter just glances at the ceiling, "And MJ."

MJ is tossing an empty storage bin to the side when you crawl up through the floor behind Peter. She's crouched on the balls of her feet, shoulders slouched, the sharp bones of her back poking through her tight graphic tee. Her head snaps toward you both when she hears you grunt up the last rung of the ladder. Her eyes narrow on you, then Peter, "I can't find it."

Peter offers you a hand to hoist you further into the attic, "Did you check the-"

"Yes. And I checked the one next to it. And the one next to that."

You look at Peter for an explanation, but he doesn't provide you with one. He walks over to where MJ has now fallen back on her ass, rifling through one of the bins. His mouth twists to the side. "Maybe she meant the box next to her old CDs?"

"There's like 15 boxes in here, Peter."

Off to the side of the room, where MJ was currently facing the mysterious dilemma, were about nine—not 15—storage bins in disarray. Two were off to the side, emptied of their contents: there were piles of men's clothes, women's clothes, baby blankets, and more. The third box that MJ was poring over had Halloween decorations in it.

"Well, you're getting close." Peter encourages.

The way MJ grumbles resentfully has you squirming. As time ticked on, your presence unannounced, you were starting to feel like an intruder. You clear your throat and MJ looks over at you for the second time, "Maybe I could help?" You offer.

At this, MJ brightens. "Finally! Someone cares about my plight. I don't know you, do I?"

You crawl over to where MJ is sitting and Peter gestures to you, "MJ, I told you about the reporter from the Bugle, right?" You give your name for good measure, and MJ's eyebrows raise. She gives a quick, indecipherable look to Peter. He returns it. Then she examines you.

After a moment, she dusts her hand off on her khakis and holds it out for you to shake, "Michelle Jones. Call me MJ." You repeat her nickname warmly. "Peter never shuts up about you."

Peter chokes on his spit.

"He... he does?"

MJ continues shaking your hand for longer than necessary, smiling secretively now, "Oh, yeah. He's got your blog bookmarked too. Post notifs for your Twitter, the works." You cut your eyes to Peter, appalled that he'd ratted you out to someone else, but MJ is quick, "I figured it out on my own ages ago."

"Is it really that obvious it's me?"

"No." And she smiles wider.

Peter is about to cut in with something when a woman's voice rings out, shrill and clear despite two layers of flooring in between you. He's needed with the ham. He looks between you and MJ, reluctant, "Look, if you can't find it-"

"We will." MJ's reply is confident, leaving no room for failure. You feel a little pressure applied to "we".

Peter nods. He mouths an apology at you and skitters out of the attic.

Left alone with MJ, you notice that she is staring at you now. You feel like you've been left alone with an oracle, prepared for your innermost being to be laid bare before you: past, present, and future. She looks like the type to know what makes people tick.

"What are you looking for?" You try to break the silence, though your voice comes out meeker than you'd have liked.

She doesn't look away from you as her fingers grip the container in between her legs, "Uncle Ben's favorite Christmas sweater. All I know is it has a reindeer holding a beer on the front."

Reinbeer. You almost laugh at it. You imagine it would tickle an uncle pink too. "Then I'll get to looking."

You've only just crawled over to a bin of your own when MJ asks you outright, "You like Peter, right?"

Your hand stills as it pries the top off. You feel her eyes burning into your back. "He's... nice, yeah."

You can hear how unimpressed she is with that, "I don't know if it's obvious, but Peter isn't exactly popular." You think that's kind of a cruel thing to say about someone you consider a friend, but MJ keeps going, "All he had was Ned back at Midtown. And me, eventually. I've known him since high school and he's made maybe a handful of friends, maybe less. The last time he invited someone new to Christmas dinner was Harry."

And that had been at least a few years, judging by how long Harry had been away at Oxford.

But why was she telling you this?

"He likes you." You yelp when you realize MJ's voice has gotten close. You turn, and she's kneeling behind you with no interest in your fear. "But do you like him?"

In her hands is a faded, toy Iron Man mask. "I... I think he's nice. I mean kind," you correct yourself when MJ frowns, "but I... I don't really know him. I mean, I don't think I do. I've only actually spoken to him twice and one of those times, there was a gun involved. Everything I know about him is through his pictures and Spidey, and I trust Spidey. So, I trust Peter."

"And Spider-Man?"

"What?"

"Do you like Spider-Man?"

You swallow. Like didn't really sum up how you felt about him. He was a hero, an inspiration, a friend, and also... yeah, you felt something more there too.

You think about why she would ask. Why it would have anything to do with you liking Peter or not. You look at her and it feels like she hasn't really asked you that different of a question at all. Your answer is much more definitive this time, "I do. I like him more than I know what to do with."

MJ leans back on her haunches. She appraises you, "He's pretty great, isn't he?" Her tone is considerably softer.

"Yeah. He really is." You smile.

MJ hands the mask to you and you take it, admiring the chips in its paint and the lovingly worn edges. She scoots between you and the bin you'd been looking into and pops the lid off. Almost immediately, she swears in relief. Sitting folded on top is the most gaudy sweater you've ever seen. A deformed reindeer is embroidered on the front, and sure enough, holds a can of beer in its hoof. When MJ shakes it out, little specks of dust fly everywhere.

This, too, she hands to you. You look at her in bewilderment. "You'll wanna make a good first impression with May," she advises, "just be prepared for the water works."

And there are water works.

May throws her arms around your neck and just about sobs her thanks to you, squishing the sweater between your chests. You note that she smells like candy canes. When she draws back, her glasses are all askew, "And I'm so glad you could make it! Peter wouldn't shut up about you. Isn't that right, Petey?"

Peter's eye twitches. "I'm gonna set the table. Ned, you wanna set the table?" And he scoots past you and May without waiting for a response.

"Don't mind him, he gets testy when he's cooking. Did Petey give you the tour?" You shake your head and May kisses her teeth in Peter's direction, "Okay, this is the kitchen, around the corner here is the dining room. You've seen the living room and the attic. The bathroom is by the front door, and the bedrooms are upstairs. If someone's in the bathroom down here, do not use the bathroom by the stairs. That's Ned's favorite when he gets bubbly guts, and he will get bubbly guts."

Ned complains under his breath as he walks by.

"If you need somewhere to get away from the festivities for a bit, backyard's that way and my room's upstairs, first door to the left. All good?" She pets your shoulder. Then, she looks down at the sweater still in your hands and takes it from you, tenderly. "I'm gonna go change into this and then dinner is served. Help yourself to anything, okay?"

May leaves you in the kitchen with that. Around the corner, Peter and Ned are fussing over where to put the ham and sides. Around the other corner, Harry is drunkenly singing Christmas carols with Yolanda. MJ watches on from the corner of the room, recording on her phone. She catches your eye and mouths, "For blackmail."

You peek into the dining room and Peter is worrying over one of the chairs. You can hear Ned scold him, "Sit next to them. You don't wanna talk over the ham. It'll kill the mood."

"But how do I... subtly get them to sit in this chair and not next to MJ or something?"

"Tell MJ not to sit next to them."

"But what if-" You jolt a little when Peter suddenly spots you eavesdropping. He straightens up with a death grip on the chair he'd been messing with, "Hey! Hi. This is your chair by the way." And he tops it all off with a smile.

It's warm in May's home.

You don't even register the cold at first. You do register Harry's frenzy, the way he grabs far more napkins than he needs to, pressing them to your stomach where the majority of his spilled drink had gone. When you finally do comprehend what just happened, you place your hands over his, "How long have you been plotting your revenge?"

Harry is red-faced. He lets you hold the napkins there while May rushes to find a towel, "Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was- sorry."

You don't get to dwell on the déjà vu of it all. May is ushering you up the stairs with a beach towel pressed to your front, muttering about how she'll have to put Harry on ginger ale for the rest of the night. She guides you into what you're certain is Peter's old bedroom.

It's been cleaned out, and most of his personal belongings must be at his own place, but there are still old posters on the wall, and a calendar dated in April, two years ago. His bed is ruffled like he'd slept overnight. It's neat, and looks like it usually is neat, but there are traces of him everywhere, like picture frames with Peter and May and a man you don't recognize.

"Peter probably has something here you can wear. It's all stuff from college." She digs through the top drawer of his dresser, finally stopping on a sweatshirt with Empire State University in college block across the chest. "Here! You think this'll fit?"

She stretches it out and you nod, thankful, "Yeah, thank you so much, May."

She smiles, "Okay. Bathroom's across the hall if you need to wash off. I can run your shirt through a wash while you're here if you'd like. Just let me know, okay?"

May is, perhaps, the sweetest woman on earth. She leaves you with a thumbs up and shuts the door behind you, reminding you to lock it after she leaves.

Your shirt had absorbed most of the drink, and you're relatively unscathed besides some sticky residue. You wipe at your stomach with the towel she'd given you and slip Peter's sweater on. It feels... odd, wearing it. It smells like May's house with little traces of Peter.

Your eyes drift back to the picture frames.

One such frame sits on top of the dresser, a photo of Peter and the man who you assume is Uncle Ben. He holds Peter in a headlock but they're both smiling at the camera. You smile too, tracing a finger around the wooden edges.

Another picture is of Peter and MJ and Ned, standing outside of MIT with their fingers pointing at the school. Another is of Peter and MJ sharing cotton candy at Coney. Another is of Peter as a little boy, with two people flanking his side that you do not know. You realize you'd never asked about Peter's parents.

There are other photos of him around that age with May and Ben, and as you piece together what feels like an undoubtedly tragic story, you catch something outside the window.

A person. Hanging onto the side of the house.

Your heart hammers in your chest as a hand pushes the window up, and then, "Did I scare you?" Spider-Man perches on the sill with what you can imagine is a shit-eating grin.

You stomp over to the window and shove at his shoulder, but he doesn't budge in the slightest, "You almost gave me a heart attack! Were you watching me get dressed?"

The mask's eyes blow open, "What? No! I swear I just got here."

"Do you ever use the front door?"

"Not if I can help it," he crawls in, staying planted by the window, "don't tell me you're snooping through Parker's things."

"I was just... looking. At the pictures. And Harry Osborn spilled his drink all over me so I had to borrow Parker's shirt."

"Hm. ESU looks good on you."

You look up at Peter, who keeps his hands tucked behind his back, leaning against the wall by the window. "Aren't you gonna say hi to the party? Make Parker look cool?"

"Eventually. Maybe. Might just watch from afar."

"No, nuh-uh. You said you had holiday plans and that you were going to a party. That doesn't count if you're watching from afar."

Peter's head sways to the side, "I never said this was the party I was going to."

"Is there another?"

"Well... maybe. Maybe not."

"Peter-" You whine, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not a party guy! Sue me."

"Well, then Parker's got you beat two for two. Unless you're lying, since I haven't given up on my conspiracy theory."

Peter presses himself off the wall, sauntering toward you in a zig-zag. Your eyes follow him, back and forth, back and forth, until he's a step or two away. His hand reaches out to play with one of your sleeves, its seams resewn with mismatched thread, "Leaving a party as Peter Parker to come back as Spider-Man. Give Parker some credit. That's the kind of plan you come up with in high school."

You shrug, trying not to act like Peter playing with your sleeve wasn't giving you goosebumps. "You never know."

Peter nods, "Yeah, you're right. I mean, he was really excited to see you."

"Oh yeah?" You swallow.

"Yeah. Was kind of pathetic, actually."

Peter shoots a web at the ceiling and twists, catching the web between his feet so he could hang upside down. The suddenness makes you stumble back with a breathless laugh, "That's not a very nice thing to say about a friend."

"Weren't you the one who said he'd be shaking and crying if you yelled at him?"

You sigh, "I was... I was teasing you."

"Because I'm Peter Parker."

He says it matter of fact. You stare at him, "Yeah," you whisper, "that's right."

He pulls himself up the web until he's face to face with you, "Then that wouldn't be very nice to say to a friend, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't. If you were Peter Parker, I guess I'd have to apologize to you."

"Yeah? How?"

You breathe deep. Everyone is still laughing downstairs. You become hyper-aware of the fact that you hadn't locked the door. At any moment, someone could walk in and...

Peter waits, curious.

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, pressing into the fabric of his mask, feeling over the ridges where black lines broke red. You know what you want to do. And you also know that there is no going back if you do it.

Your fingers reach the place where the mask meets the rest of his suit. Hooking two fingers under the fabric, you pull.

Your fingernails trace over the curve of his Adam's apple as it bobs, over the jut of his chin. Peter's breath is heaving. One of his hands releases its grip on the web and you see it glide toward yours out of the corner of your eye. You just feel the skin of his bottom lip under your finger when you realize how this might look. What he might think you're trying to do.

Mask in hand, questions of his identity hanging in the air, your curiosity and his vulnerability. You release the mask, awash with worry. You want to get it out before there's any misunderstanding, but as your hand drifts back to yourself, his catches it. You would give anything to know what he's thinking right now.

Peter lets your fingers fall. Silently, he drags the mask over the tip of his nose and leaves it resting there. An invitation. "I trust you." He promises. And kisses you.

He has to stretch a little to reach you. You understand this and press closer, taking the back of his head in your hands and holding it steady for you, but you know you're trembling. You curse yourself for how much your body reacts to this, how uncool you must look, how you shake with all the excitement and terror of this. You kiss him and feel silly about how you claimed to know his lips so well before now. That was nothing.

This is everything. So many things. Each time you go back in for more, you lock away some new little detail about him.

Peter places a hand against your neck and tugs you even closer, but the momentum makes him swing a little bit so his nose bumps your chin. You're too stiff to laugh, but he does, "Sorry," his voice is raspy, "this looked cooler in my head."

You lean into him, dizzied, "Was this... did you plan for me to kiss you? When you got up there?"

"I've wanted to kiss you plenty of ways." Peter's admission is followed by a sigh. He presses a hand to your chest and nudges you back a step before he's dropping to his feet and advancing upon you once more, bumping you against the dresser as the picture frames rattle. Your fingers sneak under his mask at the back of his head so they can sink into his silky hair.

He probably kisses you a hundred more times after that. Every kiss you think might be the last, but then you feel a tug in your chest and go in for one more. An itch that no scratch can soothe.

Peter's mask starts to slip and you feel one of his hands leave your waist to fix it, but the warmth your fingers had snuggled into disappears and-

You keep your eyes screwed shut, "Peter." You gasp against his mouth. Your fingers twitch in his hair, finding no resistance.

"It's okay," he nudges your nose with his, still pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth, "it's okay."

"But-"

"Don't you wanna know if you were right?"

You squeak when his lips find the underside of your jaw, "I don't need- you don't need to-"

"You're always right," Peter interrupts you, kissing down your neck, "I was never fooling you. You're so smart, you know that?"

"Peter." You say his name with no real plans for it to do anything, letting your head fall back.

"Please." He says back. Urging.

You lift your head, heart hammering away, and meet the eyes of Peter Parker.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @bi-andready-tocry @thescarletfang @spider-biter @hufflepuff-n-fluff @daydreamdrive05 @mentalidrainedfangirl @gwennesy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #tom holland peter parker #marvel #mjwrites #if you see any mistakes in this no u didn't #this has gone through a few revisions and uh. i'm sleeby #pp; small favor

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organicxslime · 7 months

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☆baking together (gojo, nanami, yuji, megumi)☆

Baking with GOJO is a mess. When you decide to make an afternoon date out of baking cookies together, he immediately takes over the project, refusing to follow the recipe and coming up with measurements and ingredients on the fly. Your kitchen looks like a tornado made of sugar and vanilla extract had torn through it, grit and brown splatters on every surface, and there's cooking utensils scattered haphazardly on all the countertops. At some point, he's going to take a bite out of the raw dough and declare himself immune to "Sal Monella, whoever that is," before placing misshapen globs of dough on a baking sheet and putting it in the oven. When they're done, he shows off by taking the burning-hot sheet out of the oven with his bare hands (protected from third-degree burns by limitless, of course.) His chaotic creations inexplicably (and infuriatingly) become perfectly golden-brown cookies that are warm and gooey from the first bite, and you'd better believe he demolishes half a dozen of them in the time it takes you to finish a single one.

Baking with NANAMI means that he'll be doing all of the work. The man is simply a perfectionist, and that means that the entire time he's mixing up a batch of brownies, you'll be reduced to the role of his loyal assistant, fetching whatever utensil or ingredient he needs. He's meticulous - sleeves rolled up for optimal cleanliness (and maybe a little because he knows you're into his forearms) as he carefully measures out bits of cocoa powder and powdered sugar. He lovingly scolds you as you use a fingertip to scoop out some of the batter and eat it, and you purposefully smudge a bit of it on the edge of your lip, knowing that he'll roll his eyes and use a thumb to gently wipe it off, his grasp on your jaw lingering a moment too long before he kisses you and returns to his work. The brownies come out impossibly perfect, and he dips a fork directly into the dish, pulling out a chocolatey clump and lightly blowing on it before feeding it to you. As your savor the taste, you're not sure what's sweeter - the brownies, or your boyfriend.

Baking with YUJI is just plain fun. Yuji has zero baking experience, so you decide to take the lead as you bake a cake together. He's hugging you from behind and looking over your shoulder the entire time, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as the batter comes together, and he's more than happy to eat the warm scraps that you give him as you even out the top of the cake once its been baked. Decorating it is where the real fun begins - you both take a layer of the cake and decorate it to your liking. When you peek over and realize that he’s creating a grotesque replica of your face, wobbly lumps of frosting misshapenly mimicking your features, you lose it completely. You’re laughing so hard there are tears rolling down your cheeks, your face turning bright red. He’s right there with you, giggling as he hunches over his cake with frosting bag in hand, adding the finishing touches to your deformed eyes. “It’s cute, like you!” He declares, defending his work, and to prove his point he leans down and shoves his face into the frosting, planting a kiss on your replica’s frosted lips. He comes back up, grinning obnoxiously with his face smeared with frosting, and you’re red-faced and giggling as you wipe his face clean with a dishrag. The cake tasted okay, a good try for something that came out of a dingy apartment kitchen, but sharing it with Yuji made it taste much better.

Getting MEGUMI to bake with you is like pulling teeth. He’s not super into sweet things, so you placate him by telling him you’ll make his favorite kind of muffins if he helps you. Begrudgingly, he’s by your side in the kitchen, washing blueberries in the sink as you whisk the batter. He’d never admit it, but he feels his heart skip a beat as he watches you work, listening to you chatter about your day while your practiced hands expertly crack eggs into the mixing bowl. He adores soft moments like these - when it’s just the two of you, quietly existing together and completely comfortable in each other’s presence, he feels at peace. He doesn’t realize he’s staring at you, and you notice, giving him a knowing smile and leaning over to pluck a clean blueberry out of his hands and pop it in your mouth. He flushes bright red, and hands you the remaining berries to mix into the batter. The muffins come out smelling heavenly, crisp golden-brown on the outside and soft and fluffy on the inside, just a hint of sweetness - exactly how he likes them. You tear the crust off one of the muffins, holding it up to his mouth and letting him take a bite. “Good?” you ask. “Amazing,” he responds, the faintest trace of a smile on his face.

#gojo satoru #nanami kento #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #yuji x reader #megumi x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 months

Note

This babe is getting you something from your favorite coffeeshop. What's your go-to order and what did he bring you?

Sorry for taking so long, Cia!

My go-to order is a decaf hazelnut latte, but I love when there are seasonal specials that are more cream than coffee.

So what does the Captain get me? Head on under the cut for a 500 word, un-beta'd drabble.

Steve and the other Avengers had been off doing one of their public appearances, talking to sick kids down one of the local hospitals, so he was dressed up in his Cap suit, but for once wasn’t bruised, battered or sweaty when he eventually returned to the Tower. In fact, he and the others had had time to swing past the local coffee shop on the way back and load up on some much needed caffeine and sugar.

As they walked back through the doors, Tony’s voice echoing loudly through the reception area, you couldn’t help but look up from your desk, where you worked as the face of Stark Industries, greeting and directing visitors and acting as the first line of defence against Avengers super-fans.

The light shone through the huge windows that seemed to stretch ever upwards and lit up Steve Roger’s golden hair. You let out a sigh. He was so fucking handsome.

You considered yourself a grown-up professional, but for some reason whenever the Captain was near or, god-forbid, spoke to you, you turned into a giggling school girl. It didn’t stop you from admiring him from a distance though - a girl could dream.

However, as the gaggle of heroes got closer, heading towards the executive elevators, Steve peeled off, heading towards you. Your eyes went wide with confusion and your heart started to race. What could he possibly want? Somehow, you managed to return your expression to one of corporate pleasantness as he crossed the last few feet of space, a soft smile on his features.

“Can I help you, Captain?” you asked .

“Actually, I thought I could help you.” He placed a coffee cup and a small paper bag in front of you. “I got these for you. Thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at the gesture, but then your heart sank at the sight of the coffee.

“That’s, umm, very thoughtful, Captain, but I can’t have normal coffee because…”

He cut you off. “Because you’re intolerant. That’s why I got you decaf. A latte, with a shot of hazelnut. And one of those brownies with the caramel running through it.”

Your eyes started to bug out again. “How did you know?” You squeaked out the question, no longer able to maintain your professional composure.

“I always remember important information,” he replied and despite his relatively simple words, there was an implied meaning under them. Was Steve Rogers - Captain America - flirting with you?”

You swallowed thickly and picked up the coffee cup. “Well thank you for thinking of me, Captain. It’s much appreciated. But I’d best let you go,” you gestured to the rest of the gang who were standing near the elevator, all trying to look as though they weren’t eavesdropping. “The others are waiting.”

“And I’d best let you return to work. See you around.”

He turned around and started to walk away, and you tried your best not to just stare at his ass. However, he suddenly stopped again and looked back over his shoulder.

“Oh, one more thing.”

You sat up in your seat, feeling a bit like a meerkat. “Yes, Captain?”

“Call me Steve.”

tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions

#jen's got mail #asks answered #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine

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katzkinder · 30 days

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Servamp headcanons, ice cream edition! Because my grandma got an ice cream maker and we’re all super eager to try it out but then she broke her back (she’s fine, don’t worry)

Mahiru: plain old vanilla. Misono introduced him to vanilla BEAN ice cream though and he’s feeling a little guilty about wanting to splurge a bit for the more expensive, creamier stuff… Kuro is an enabler and his encouragement is the only reason he’s still managing to resist. Just do it Mahi!

Kuro: Cookies and Cream is his favorite, but he’s also partial to cookie dough, or crumbled chocolate mint cookies as topping. He likes both the taste and the texture

Misono: chocolate lol. He’s predictable. His absolute favorite though are those ultra decadent brownie batter type of chocolate ice creams. Yknow the ones. Chocolate pieces, brownie bits, hot fudge swirl… He gets sick off the stuff easily though, so even though he loves it, self control is everything

Lily: vanilla bean with strawberry topping and cheese cake bites! He loves fresh strawberries in his desserts, and often he and Misono will trade bites if they’re getting flavor fatigue. Also very rich but the strawberry helps cuts through the sweetness

Tetsu: a Basic Boi who loves GariGariKun the most. Prefers popsicles over dairy treats. Yeah technically this isn’t ice cream but like. It’s the taste of summer and after bath refreshments. I’m not taking that from him

Hugh: vanilla with hot fudge sauce (and/or blood). He still prefers his chocolate parfaits, or better yet for this scenario, a milkshake

Licht: yknow those ultra sweet cotton candy flavors? If it’s ice cream by itself, he loves that. But if it’s a float, it’s gotta be vanilla in melon soda. If you take him to marble slab or similar place that lets you mix in a bunch of toppings, he will make a beeline for the gummy bears. Gets disappointed every time that they turn hard and unpleasant to eat, even though he already knows the outcome

Lawless: he has two favorites. Coffee bean (distinct from just plain coffee flavor) and moose tracks. I’m not sure what that’s called in other places? Basically it’s vanilla with peanut butter cups and fudge. Only goes for this when he’s depressed, if I’m honest. Otherwise it’s too sweet.

Mikuni: haagen daz amaretto almond crunch and their hojicha latte flavor. Forever sad that the former was limited edition and doesn’t make seasonal returns. It was absolutely perfect for his and jeje’s terrible Netflix movie nights (with the occasional appearance by johannes so they could make fun of the bad science together)

Jeje: since Mikuni only buys haagen daz (spoiled pretentious shit) he’s grateful they a rich pumpkin flavor that becomes available during autumn. He also really likes horchata milkshakes for the comforting taste of cinnamon.

Iduna: Tried butter pecan once and was hooked. The crunchiness of the pecans is her favorite part. It’s her go to for when Haagen Daz Creamy Vanilla Pudding flavor isn’t in season. Back home, though, it’s got to be the rather… Unique. Salty licorice flavor. She gave some to shuuhei one time just to watch him gag. She knows what she’s doing to that poor boy.

Freya: the simple freshness of strawberry ice cream is her guilty pleasure. She been thinking of making her own with an old hand churner. It would be fun, right? And it’s not like it would be difficult to get the ingredients she needs.

Nicco: Pistachio gelato, though he also enjoys the tartness and slight bitter aftertaste of limoncello flavor. He likes taking Ildio with him whenever there’s a new flavor he wants to try but isn’t sure he’ll like. Even if he doesn’t care for it, his servamp probably will. Does that make him mean?

Ildio: No preference as of yet. He’s still figuring this whole… Tasting your food thing out

Tsubaki: as expected, he loves matcha and red bean flavors. REALLY excited some of the Hagen daz hanamochi series is becoming a permanent flavor

Sakuya: rocky road. Sweet, crunchy, and a little bitter on the back end from the chocolate. Refuses to admit it but he also enjoys the hanamochi series. He’s stubborn. Whenever he wins a free popsicle he gives the stick to Mahiru, so inevitably when they hang out, that’s what he buys if they stop at the konbini, just for the chance to maybe earn some good boy points with his best friend and crush. And he thinks he’s subtle—

Reblog with your own headcanons! I love seeing what people add to my posts :3

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hey-august · 5 months

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Date Night (Buggy x GN!reader)

Description: You and Buggy work on a cozy meal for two while the ship is out at sea.

Word count: ~1.4k

A/N: One shot fluff with an established relationship. Gender neutral reader, no use of Y/N, pronouns, or physical descriptions. Let me know if you see any errors or typos. ♡

Warnings: SFW goodness.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was date night. The kitchen door was hard at work containing the flurry of activity in the room. You and Buggy moved around the galley, preparing a meal for two. After running into each other a few times too many, you were beginning to regret this idea.

Cooking together sounded romantic, but this was starting to feel like a competition to outdo the other person. Neither of you intentionally committed sabotage, despite the handful of mishaps making you both think otherwise. The eggs Buggy pulled out for dessert disappeared, cracked into the pasta sauce you were in charge of. You grabbed a rubber spatula and nearly stirred brownie batter into your pan.

With his finish line in sight, Buggy sauntered over to the oven. He nudged you to the side with his hips, while his disconnected torso slid the brownie pan into the pre-heated oven. You leaned over his lower half-body to bat his hand away from the sauce that he was about to dip a finger into.

“It’s almost ready, just hold on!”

Buggy winked and flipped you off before moving to dip the offending middle finger into the sauce. His legs were still trying to corral you away from the stovetop, so this time you grabbed the nearest utensil to smack the pirate captain with. When the pasta scooper made contact with his skin, Buggy cried out and grabbed his arm dramatically.

“With the spikey end? How could you?” the clown howled while reconnecting his body and twisting away from you.

“I’ll do it again if you don’t stay away,” you warned, attempting to sound menacing through the goofy grin on your face.

A prickle on the back of your neck suggested you turn around, alerting you to the sneaky hand floating by the stovetop. Faced with the risk of being scooped up and flung across the room, the clown’s hand sheepishly waved at you before moseying back to its owner. You weren’t sure how a singular body part could give off such an attitude. Maybe reading his emotions, no matter how they were displayed, was a skill you picked up by spending so much time with the pirate captain.

Buggy put out place settings while you finished cooking. He gave you a helping hand, which held a dish for you to plate the pasta on. It floated back to the table and returned with the second dish for you to plate. You settled down just as the wine bottle in Buggy’s hand relinquished the last few drops into the glass sitting on your side.

Your eyes sparkled like diamonds as you surveyed the table. Pride and admiration glowed in the ruby flush dusting your cheeks. The treasured look was almost too much when you turned to Buggy, staring at him with a hopeful and expectant expression. It took his breath away.

“A-another amazing idea from your great captain, huh, babe?” He flashed a self-important grin, rightfully taking your excitement as praise for the night.

Little did the pirate captain know, this was all your doing. You dropped hints for ages and the winning move was finding a jar of baking mix at the last port the ship docked in. Although Buggy could make some basic food, he was not particularly skilled in the kitchen. The baking mix, however, required hardly any skill. All you needed to do was mention the purchase and deliver a few choice compliments while batting your eyes before Buggy was puffing out his chest and planning the night.

Your excitement wavered when you picked up the first forkful of pasta. The pale yellow glob of sauce that slid off the noodles and fell to the plate with a sad plop was the real life expression of the feeling in your stomach. You’re not sure if the sauce broke or if you used too much oil, but the sauce was painfully reluctant to stick around. Glancing at Buggy, he seemed to be too busy scooping food into his mouth to notice. His enthusiasm calmed the anxiety in your stomach.

Then you took a bite. The pasta was more than toothsome, a texture that shattered the image of a perfect dinner you had in your mind. You chewed slowly, eyeing the man across the table, trying to read his expression. Maybe he liked hard pasta? Buggy was a talker, but would shut up for good food, and he was silent right now. He gave you a saucy grin - actually, since the sauce wouldn’t stick to anything, it was really just excess oil glistening on his mouth - and took a swig of wine before going back to attack his meal.

You choked down your mouthful of soggy, oily, wheat sticks, only to be left with an overwhelming taste of salt coating your tongue. Even a hearty swallow of wine didn’t wash away the taste of disappointment. Afraid of giving up on the night you envisioned, you shoved down a few more bites.

“That was delicious, I’m going to get another plate.” Buggy’s declaration had you choke on your wine. Even if he was enjoying the meal, it could not be healthy to have more of this salty oil concoction.

“Actually, could you get more wine first?” The thrust of your nearly empty glass made this more of a demand than a request.

Buggy eyed you cautiously, noting how the flush on your face increased. You felt the heat on your skin and hoped he thought it was the wine and not embarrassment. Buggy nodded and downed the rest of his glass, planning to refill both in one go. By the time he opened a new bottle, a timer chimed. A heaven-sent sound signaling that dessert was finished. You took over pouring the wine while Buggy pulled out the brownies from the oven.

“Do you want more pasta too?” Buggy asked, setting aside the baked goods on the center island. A sugary decadent smell wafted through the kitchen, wrapping around you like a toasty warm blanket.

“No, let’s have the brownies now,” you encouraged anxiously.

Feeling hesitation radiating from the pirate clown, you walked over to look at the brownies. The crispy, crinkly top was a gorgeous deep brown, the color of dark chocolate. A stark contrast to the pale, sloppy mess you created. You swallowed the cocoa dusted jealousy stuck in your throat.

“Bugs, they look amazing! I bet they taste better than they look. Let’s try them while they’re fresh out of the oven.” Your honeyed compliments poured over Buggy, turning his apprehension to a happier buzz.

He cut two squares and you both tapped the confections together in a saccharine rendition of “cheers.” The warm brownie practically melted on your tongue.

Rich chocolate gave way to a slightly bitter flavor. This wasn’t the enjoyable bitterness of dark chocolate, but the unwelcome side effect of an overzealous oven. Your abused tongue shrank under the burnt taste. Then, an unexpectedly sharp crunch in your mouth had you both freeze in place. You pulled out a piece of eggshell and held it up.

“This is different. I usually prefer chocolate chips or maybe crushed nuts-” Buggy flicked the eggshell from your fingertips and glared at you. You went to take another bite and he slapped the brownie from your hand.

“I thought I pulled them all out,” Buggy groaned while tossing his half-eaten square back into the pan.

“...how did you miss such a big piece?”

“How did you undercook the pasta?” he said mockingly while rolling his eyes.

A burnt retort fell to ash in your mouth before you could respond. So Buggy did realize that the pasta was not good. And he kept eating. But he stopped you when he realized there was a problem with his brownies. Shit.

“I’m sorry…I can pick through the eggshells. It was good otherwise,” you offered. A hand on your wrist stopped you from reaching for the downer dessert.

“No,” he said in a soft voice that made your heart ache. “There’s no reason we should both suffer through such atrocities.” Buggy looked at you with a sad, pained expression.

Jerk.

He fluttered his long eyelashes, a move that always made you melt. He’s an adorable jerk.

“Oh captain, you’re so right. Let me make it up to you.” Sliding closer to the pirate, whose shoulders remained heavy with the weight of his false martyrdom, you pressed yourself against his body.

“What do you have in mind?” Buggy tilted your face up towards his, letting you see the signature twinkle in his bottle green eyes. Maybe date night wasn’t a failure after all.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy fluff #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #buggy x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #x reader

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 1 year

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Latte Love | Wanda Maximoff

Summary: When a new coffee shop opens up across the street from your bakery, you enter into a rivalry with its new owner

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (minors DNI), language, mentions of major character death, house fire, mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 7.3K

Masterlist

A/N: This was a request from @aloneodi. The prompt was pretty straightforward: enemies to overs with lots of angst and smut. Enjoy ;)

For the past two months the construction across the street from your bakery had driven you insane. The constant sawing and hammering was grinding your gears. You weren’t sure what was coming in the old storefront. It had been vacant as long as you could remember. You were in elementary school when Mr. Neely retired and the building now sat in a state of dilapidated disrepair: the front awning was threadbare, the windows were partially boarded up, and graffiti was spray painted over the brick storefront. Inside the empty cases gathered dust and cobwebs. It was a bit of a pleasant surprise when you came to work one day to see a ‘SOLD’ sign taped to the front door.

“Maybe we should blast some music, give them a taste of their own medicine,” Natasha suggested with a smirk. Natasha Romanoff was your right hand woman when it came to running the bakery. Not only was she an accounting whiz and could balance the books in her sleep, she also made a mean creme brûlée.

“I just don’t understand why it’s taken them so long to remodel. It’s construction, not rocket science. What’s going in there anyway?”

“It’s a coffee shop. I met the owner when I went to the wholesaler the other day,” Sam explained as he dumped another batch of bagels into the bucket. A slightly intimidating Air Force veteran with the heart of a teddy bear, Sam was your resident bagel maker and donut fryer. People came from all corners of the state for his famous brownie batter donuts and egg everything bagels,

“So literally the exact same as us?” You could hardly believe what you were hearing. The Rolling Scones had quickly established itself as Westview’s premiere (and only) bakery. Why did someone else need to open up right across the street?

“Hold up, it’s not exactly the same thing. We’re a bakery that serves coffee and they’re a coffee shop that serves baked goods. Totally different.”

You shot Sam a glance that immediately made him do an about face and head back to his boiling batch of bagels. Flour covered fingers ran through your hair as you leaned up against the back counter thinking about all the negative ways this new shop was going to impact yours.

“What are we gonna do, Nat? I can’t lose this place.”

“Y/N, relax. It’s just another business. We’re not going to go out of business just because there’s a new place in town. If anything they’re the ones who should be worried. They have to compete with Sam’s bagels.”

“We could just burn it down!” Peter, the teenager who washed dishes after school and on weekends, added. “Then we wouldn’t have to worry about them!”

“He’s got a point,” Sam added as the door jingled open.

“Peter! Arson isn’t the answer here!” Nat rolled her eyes, heading to the back to work on handling the latest invoices.

“But it is a solution,” you teased. Natasha groaned as she kicked the back room door open. “Can I help you?” you asked, turning your attention to the customer who walked up to the counter.

“Yeah, I’m looking for a - oh, SAM! Hi!” The young woman in front of you raised up on her tiptoes and waved over the counter.

“Wanda hey!” He walked over, an overflowing basket of hard rolls in his arms. “Glad you came. How’s the remodeling going?”

“Good! My contractor told me that we should be able to open by the end of the month.”

“That’s great news! Did you pick the name yet?”

“My brother and I argued about it for a while, but we finally settled on Latte Love.”

“You’re the one who bought the old deli?!”

“Mmhmm. I always wanted to open a coffee shop and I thought it was an absolutely charming little spot. So I saved and took out some loans and got it! I’m Wanda. Wanda Maximoff.” The overexcitable brunette shoved her hand out in front of you.

“Y/N L/N,” you responded as you reluctantly clasped her hand. The last thing you wanted to do was be friendly with the person who was your direct competitor.

Sam chatted with Wanda, asking her all sorts of questions about the wholesaler and how she was faring getting her deliveries set up. Your vision went red at the sight of your friend and this despicable woman having a friendly conversation. Why on earth would he invite her into your shop, the shop your parents worked so hard to build and the one you worked so hard to keep thriving? The fear of losing the family business permeated your mind on a daily basis. This wasn’t making it any better…

“Who’s that?” Natasha’s voice snapped you out of your stewing. She leaned against the counter, sizing up the scene in front of her.

“That’s the new coffee shop owner. Wanda. I have no idea why she’s here or why she’s talking to Sam,” you huffed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter.

“Someone sounds a little jealous,” Nat teased.

“Jealous?!” Your face flushed red with embarrassment. “You think I’m jealous? Nat, that’s the woman who’s going to try to steal all our customers! She’s the enemy here, not the prize!”

Natasha looked at you, then at Wanda, then back at you, and back at Wanda. “She’s hot. Think I stand a chance?”

“Can you pretend you’re not gay for like, five minutes please? Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking. I’m not jealous, I don’t want anything to do with her, and I swear to Christ if she’s into chicks too and you sleep with her your ass is so fired. ANYONE who sleeps with her is outta here!” As much as you hated to admit it, Natasha was right: Wanda was gorgeous. She had the perfect figure, her cropped jeans hugging the curves of her hips just right. The billowy light blue and white button up and oversized sun hat gave her a youthful exuberance that radiated from her glowing face and stunning green eyes.

“You’d have less of a stick up your ass if you got laid, you know?” she smirked. Groaning, you headed back toward the kitchen, kicking the swinging door with your foot. The sweet smell of powdered sugar and freshly baked cupcakes instantly calmed you. Unsure of how to amuse yourself until Wanda left, you grabbed a cooling rack of cookies and began frosting, turning the sugary discs into half moons. The repetition of frosting and smoothing calmed you. With enough time and vanilla Wanda’s unwelcome appearance would soon become a distant memory.

************************************************

Latte Love had been open for almost a month. The cafe had a slow start initially. Customers trickled in and out for the better part of two weeks. For those two glorious weeks you paid no heed to the brunette who could often be found sweeping the sidewalk and arranging the outside tables just so. Suddenly, something changed. Before you knew it a line formed outside the locked doors every morning with people waiting to get their morning cup of coffee. You didn’t pay much attention to it at first, but once you spotted a couple of your regulars in the line your vitriol for Wanda increased tenfold.

“That’s the third time today they’ve had a line out the door!” Peter exclaimed as he pressed his nose to the glass.

“Thank you for that reminder, Captain Obvious,” you snarked as you counted back change to the lady at the counter. “Anything else you want to add?”

Peter quickly recoiled from the glass, a sheepish expression on his face. “Ned says their coffee is really good….and so are their muffins,” he mumbled.

Oh great. Now I’ve gotta compete with her pastries, too. What a bitch…you thought to yourself as you handed the lady back a fistful of coins. Wanda was frustrating you more and more every single day. You sighed, taking off your baseball cap and running your hands threw your sweaty hair.

The door jingled. Sam and Nat walked in, the two of them eating cookies that suspiciously didn’t look like yours.

“What are those?” you asked.

“You want one? Wanda gave them to us. Pietro’s trying out a new recipe for sugar cookies. They’re honestly not half bad.” Sam reached into the brown paper bag and grabbed a large cookie, its warmth causing it to bend ever so slightly.

“Goddamn it! You slammed your cap down on the counter. In your mind, this was an act of war and you were not going to stand for it. Who did she think she was, bribing your employees?

“Y/N, just relax, okay? Wanda didn’t mean anything by it. She’s really nice if you get to know her,” Natasha asserted.

“She’s stealing our customers!” you shouted. “And I can’t believe you guys are eating her food!”

“Dude, relax. The cookies are good and she’s nice. Her brother’s cool, too,” Sam added, wiping cookie crumbs from his goatee.

“Unbelievable,” you mumbled, storming around the counter and yanking the door open. You were going over there to give her a piece of your mind.

You didn’t care what customers thought as you pushed Latte Love’s door open. Lucky for you there weren’t any at the moment, the last one having left moments ago. You heard the commotion of dishes crashing from the back and a voice you hadn’t heard before mixing with Wanda’s. As the commotion in the background subsided, it was the perfect opportunity to look around at the transformed deli.

The new design was rustic chic with exposed brick walls, stained wooden tables, and the same rustic counter that Mr. Neely once stored his meats and cheeses in. A series of shiny metallic coffee machines sat behind the counter, the shelves above it stocked with containers full of different types of coffee beans. The front case was stuffed full of various breads, pastries, cookies, and sandwiches. It wasn’t a bad place at all, and the food didn’t look half-bad either. She’d actually done a decent job at bringing the old shop back to life.

“Y/N?” You whipped around as Wanda called your name. She looked exhausted, her face glistening with sweat and powdered sugar as she pushed a rack of cupcakes and sweet breads out of the kitchen. Her hair was swept up in a messy bun, strands hanging askew as she wiped the sweat from her bow with her arm. Her black apron was peppered with sugar and frosting stains. “How are you? Did Sam give you a cookie like I asked him to?” “Did Sam - what?”

“Oh, I gave him some cookies to try. Pietro’s working out a new sugar cookie recipe and he needs taste testers so I figured-”

“What are you playing at here, Maximoff?”

“Excuse me?” Wanda tilted her head as she questioned you, her gaze quickly hardening into a stare.

“You heard me. What are you playing at? Is stealing my customers not enough for you that you need to go after my employees too?”

Wanda’s jaw dropped open as she stared at you incredulously. She laughed, shaking her head as she started unloading the cupcakes. “Are you for real right now?”

“Before you showed up we’d sell out every single day. Now more often than not I’m throwing stuff out. Sales have dropped and I’ve lost regulars that I’ve had for years. So I’m telling you this now: stay away from me and my staff.” It was all you could do to not take all your frustration out on her.

“I don’t know what you think’s going on here,” Wanda started, placing the trays neatly in the case. While she wasn’t outwardly aggressive, she shoved them in there harder than she normally would. “But you are absolutely insane if you think that I’m trying to steal your customers or staff or whatever. Sam and Natasha have been nothing but kind to me and Pietro, I just want to return the favor.”

“Well stop. The last thing I need is for my guys to be fraternizing with the enemy,” you grumbled, your blood pressure reaching a boiling point as you stared her down, fists clenched tightly at your side.

“Oh, so now I’m the enemy then?” She slammed the tray on the counter, sending loaves of bread tumbling off the sides. “Jesus, Y/N, what’s wrong with you? Have you ever stopped to think that maybe people stopped going to your shop because they wanted to try something new or, here’s a novel thought, maybe they like my place more than yours?”

“Fuck you, Wanda! That place means everything to me! You have no idea what I’ve done to keep that bakery running and I’m not gonna let your stupid bucket list adventure ruin my life’s work!”

“Get out!” Wanda shouted as she threw a muffin at your head. Her aim was wide and the pastry hit the wall with a splat as you leaned out of the way. “Get the fuck out of my store you bastard!”

Your vision tunneled as you stormed out of the shop, not neglecting to flip her the bird as you slammed the door behind you. Ever since Wanda Maximoff came to town everything had gone completely and utterly wrong. Everyone seemed to be flocking to her and her business. Even Sam and Natasha, two of your closest friends in the whole wide world, had taken to her. It irritated you to no end. She constantly invaded the deepest depths of your mind, and many nights you awoke in a cold sweat after she invaded your dreams. There was nothing you wouldn’t do to get her out of your mind: grueling pre-dawn runs, sleepless nights spent getting ahead on cake orders, countless after-work happy hours throwing back whatever alcohol you could get your hands on…anything to get that frustrating, irritating, beautiful woman, out of your mind.

************************************************

After your spat, it was like someone had built the Berlin Wall in the middle of the street. Patrons realized that something was up with the two shops and most had picked a side. Lucky for you a majority of the customers you lost returned. Things finally went back to normal for a while. Sam and Natasha stopped frequenting Latte Love, or if they didn’t they kept quiet about it. Natasha reamed you out for the way you snapped at Wanda, telling you to grow the fuck up and deal with it like an adult while Sam became unusually quiet around you. It was exasperating, but at least you felt like you were in control again. Yet as things started to go back to normal, there was something looming around the corner that would change your life forever.

************************************************

“Hello?” you mumbled groggily into your phone. It was the middle of the night and your phone jolted you awake with its abrasive ringtone.

“Y/N, it’s Nat.” You shot right up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. She sounded extremely concerned to the point where you were worried.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s the bakery. It’s-”

You didn’t even let her finish before you hung up, frantically searching for some clothes and your keys as you raced down the stairs of your apartment toward your car. As you sped down the road toward downtown, an orange glow illuminated the dark buildings while sirens grew ever closer.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no. Please no. Please. You white-knuckled the steering wheel, your damp palms sliding as your heart pounded in your chest. The turn onto the main drag confirmed your worst fears: The Rolling Scone was burning.

You skidded to a halt almost as soon as you turned the corner. Fire engines, police cars, and ambulances blocked the area surrounding your store and the other end of the road while firefighters rushed into the burning building. You jogged down the street, looking for a familiar face in the crowd of first responders.

“Y/N!” Natasha jumped out of the back of an ambulance and came running over to you, a reflective rescue blanket draped over her shoulders.

“Nat! Oh god, are you okay?” She threw her arms around you and squeezed you tight. You instinctively pulled her close, cradling her head with one hand as you wrapped your other arm around her.

“I don’t know what happened. I was working on the books in the office before I got started on the donuts and I started smelling smoke, so I walked out there and the kitchen was on fire. I tried to put it out, but when it got too big I called 911. It’s all my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes were brimming with tears as she apologized for the mistake that wasn’t her fault.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled against the top of her head. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” You held her close to you as she cried into your shirt. The sight of your beloved bakery burning to the ground in front of you should’ve elicited some emotional response from you, but you felt nothing. None of what was happening seemed real. You’d wake up in a few hours, shake off your nightmare, and head back to work like nothing ever happened, but that wouldn’t happen again for a very long time. Now when you woke up, you’d have to spend the foreseeable future picking up the charred pieces of your livelihood.

************************************************

Gone. It was all gone. The last tangible reminder of your parents had gone up in smoke. Words couldn’t accurately describe just how devastated you were. The bakery was the way you dealt with the crushing pain of having tragically lost your parents so early in life. Now your coping mechanism was gone. You looked around, seeing the charred remains of the booths, the front counter, and the collection of employee and family pictures that hung on the back wall. One picture in particular caught your eye. It was you and your parents after the little league championship game the year your team won. The picture was charred around the edges, half of your mom’s body was burnt off, but it was mostly intact. You ripped it off the wall, sighing as you stared at the faded memory.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered at your parents’ beaming faces. You let their dream burn down and with it your last memories of them.

You stayed in the building most of the day. Natasha stopped by at one point to find you on the floor leaning against what was left of the front counter. She offered to grab you some food or take you home, but you declined, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the void. That’s where Wanda found you when she showed up later in the evening.

“Hey,” she said as she crouched under the CAUTION tape. You ignored her as you stared at the charred photograph in your hand. She stood awkwardly in front of you, a brown paper bag in one hand and her purse in the other. Wanda was the last person in the world you wanted to see right now. You wanted to scream, to tell her to leave you alone, but you didn’t have the energy.

“Please go,” you murmured, flipping the photograph through your fingers.

She didn’t go. She walked over to the counter, kicking a piece of charred wood to the side as she sat down next to you. There was an unspoken tension in the air as neither of you looked at each other: you stared down at the picture, she stared at the brown bag in her hand.

“Here,” she said as she slid the bag over to you. Taking a look inside the brown bag, you saw two delicious looking honey butter muffins staring back at you. “I figured that it’d help you feel a bit better.” Wanda smiled, her emerald eyes glimmering back at you. For the first time since you met it made your heart skip a beat.

“You figured that muffins from your still-standing cafe would help me feel better about my bakery burning down?”

“Look I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry about your bakery…” she trailed off as she brought her knees up and hugged them close to her chest. “It should’ve been my place that burned down, not yours.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true! Sam told me all about this place. How your parents built it from the ground up, how you’ve literally spent your whole life working here, how you dropped out of school after they died to-”

“Please stop,” you interrupted as you felt another lump in your throat. .

“Is that them?” she asked, leaning over to get a better look at the photo in your hand.

You nodded. “That’s, umm, that’s the day we won the little league championship. Dad coached my team that year and…” You trailed off as your eyes filled with tears. “Umm, this place is the only thing I have left of them, you know? Coming here every day, it’s almost like they’re still here. And now that it’s gone I…” You looked down at the picture as hot tears rolled down your face. The emotional breakdown that had been brewing all day was finally bubbling up through the cracks. “Sorry.”

Before you could say anything else, a pair of soft hands wrapped around you and pulled you close. “It’s okay, you can let it all out,” Wanda whispered. That was all it took for you to finally break down. You sobbed into her chest as she held you. She squeezed you close as she gently rocked back and forth, her fingers gently stroking your hair. “You’re okay, Y/N. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you,” she soothed. Your body was wracked with sobs as you finally let everything go.

Wanda’s touch was calming. You’d never felt so calm or safe wrapped up in someone else’s arms before. You never cried in front of anyone, not even Natasha and she was your best friend. Somehow you knew that Wanda was someone you could trust completely. “I’m sorry that you’re going through this, but you don’t have to go through it alone,” she whispered in your ear as your sobs started to calm. You didn’t have enough control to speak yet so you simply nodded into her chest. Her scent was intoxicating, a combination of sugar, roasted coffee beans, and vanilla blossom shampoo. You never noticed it before.

“Sorry for getting your shirt wet,” you sniffled as you sat up.

“Sorry for throwing a muffin at your head,” Wanda chuckled as she reached up to brush a stray tear from her face. Her hand was incredibly soft as she rested it on your cheek. You felt your face grow hot, but you weren’t sure if it was from the way she was touching you or the lack of distance between your faces or all of the above. The knot in your throat instantly migrated down to your stomach as you locked eyes with her.

“ S’okay,” you mumbled as you lost yourself in her deep green eyes. After staring for a moment too long, you turned your head away and blinked. She shook her head, realizing for herself the tense intimacy of the situation. “What kind of muffins are these?” you asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Honey butter. Pietro found the recipe online and fell in love with them.”

“I can see why,” you responded with your mouth full. “They’re good, but I think mine are just a bit better.”

“Shut up,” she answered with a playful smack.

************************************************

Over the course of the next few weeks, Wanda came over to your bakery almost every day. At first it was just to bring you something from the cafe: a cup of coffee and something sweet in the morning or a sandwich after she closed up for the evening. Her presence soon became a familiar comfort to you and you looked forward to the few moments you spent with her every evening. Daily food deliveries turned into offers to pick up dinner, and you often found yourself sitting up with her until all hours as you ate and continued the arduous rebuilding process. Soon enough Wanda was coming over to help you on her days off.

As you spent more time with her, the way you thought about her changed. You no longer woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares that involved her. Nowadays when you dreamt about her you woke up with an uncomfortable throbbing in your pajama pants. Her smile made you weak at the knees and you craved any opportunity to touch her. She was an incredible woman but you were terrified to tell her how you felt.

Natasha, of course, had noticed the shift in your demeanor towards her. “So do I get to fire you when you sleep with her or are you gonna fire yourself?” she teased one night while you were tearing the tile flooring out of the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Nat,” you answered, not steering your attention away from the floor.

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t drooling over her when she wore those shorts in here the other day. Besides, I see the way you two are when you’re together.”

“She’s just being friendly. She’s like that with you and Sam too, you know.”

“Y/N, she kept staring at your crotch when you wore those grey sweatpants last week. Even if she doesn’t like you, and I’m telling you she does, she still wants to fuck you.”

“Right, yeah,” you guffawed. While you brushed Natasha off, you hoped she was right. You had caught Wanda staring when you wore your grey sweats last week…and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

“You should tell her how you feel. I’m pretty sure she feels the same way.”

“Nat-”

“She’s over there now. Just go talk to her. Ask her out for dinner or something.”

“Nat-”

“Relax, I’ve got everything under control,” she smiled at you. “Go talk to Wanda.”

You groaned as you pushed yourself up from the hard floor. “Fine. But if this all goes wrong I’m blaming it on you!” You wiped your hands on a rag, throwing it at Nat as you headed for the door.

“It won’t!” she called from the kitchen. You shook your head, grinning as you pushed the door open and crossed the street to Latte Love. The store was closed for the evening. Inside, Wanda was cleaning up, wiping down the tables and counter like she did every evening before making her way to The Rolling Scone.

Wanda looked up as she heard the door jingle. Her exhausted face lit up at the sight of you. “Hey you,” she called. “What’s going on?”

“Not much. Just helping Nat rip up the tile in the kitchen. Contractor says he’ll be ready to go by the end of the week for that.” The words felt like cotton balls in your mouth. You never got this flustered around her but the thought of telling Wanda how you truly felt about her had your stomach tied in knots. “How was your day?”

“Good! Pietro left early for an appointment, so it’s just me closing up. I was planning on picking up Indian for dinner. Wanna join me?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Listen-”

“Oh! I got this call for this INSANE order. This lady wants twelve dozen cupcakes by Sunday. SUNDAY. Can you believe that?!”

“Wanda-”

“I mean of course you can, you’ve been doing this a lot longer than I have. But I mean we’re a coffee shop, not a bakery! I would’ve sent them to you but, well, you know, it’s a little hard to bake cupcakes when you don’t have an oven.”

“Wanda-”

“So I said ‘Sure, why the hell not?’ and I think that was a mistake because-”

“WANDA!” you said a little more aggressively than you intended.

“Yeah?” She threw her hand towel over her shoulder.

“Wanda. I, well, fuck. Sorry, I’m not good at this.” Your hands were all sweaty and your knees felt weak. “Look. What I want to say is, well, for the past few weeks we’ve…spending time with you…fuck! Why is this so hard for me to say?” You ran your fingers through your hair, frustrated that you couldn’t figure out the right words to say.

Wanda’s quizzical look slowly softened into a smile as she started to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She looked down at the ground, biting her lip as she threw the towel on the counter right before she jumped up on it, spun around, and hopped off on the other side. She walked right over to you, stopping less than a foot away as she looked up into your eyes.

“You know, for an emotionally suppressed type of guy, you’re pretty cute when you get all flustered,” she teased.

“Wanda, I-”

Before you could finish your thought, Wanda grabbed your waist, leaned in, and kissed you. Your hands somehow found their way to the back of her neck, palms resting on her cheeks as you cupped her head. Every single coherent thought you had flew out of your brain the second her lips touched yours. They were just as sweet as you imagined they’d be. You smiled into her lips, eternally grateful that she had been the one to initiate this in the first place. She smiled back as you deepened it, capturing her bottom lip between yours. There was no need for talking, no need for any other explanation. The dance between your lips told the entire story: you were hers, and she was yours. The knot in your stomach burst into a million butterflies as every touch ignited a burning sense of desire within you.

“Wanda, I-” you somehow managed to choke out as she began to kiss the side of your neck.

“There’s a couch in the office and the door locks,” she mumbled. Her lips grazed your sensitive skin as she spoke and it took everything in you not to let out an offensive moan.

“Lead the way.” Wanda grabbed your hand and dragged you behind the counter and through the kitchen to the small office in the back of the shop. You slammed the door shut behind you as Wanda pinned you to it, locking the door with one hand before bringing it back up to roam your body. She slammed her lips into yours as you grabbed her hips, pulling her flush against your body. The contact sent a surge of energy through your groin and you knew it would be only a matter of moments before your shorts became unbearably uncomfortable.

You explored her body as you kissed her, tracing over every curve as she moaned into your mouth at the sensual contact. She was heavenly. You decided to change up the intensity of your make out session, swiping your tongue over her lower lip. She willingly opened up and allowed your tongue to explore hers.

Before you realized it, Wanda’s hands made their way down your body to the front of your shorts. She unbuttoned them, stopping right afterwards to palm your throbbing erection. You nibbled on her bottom lip as she fondled you and she smiled into your mouth in response. As she pulled your pants and boxers down, you pulled off your t-shirt and threw it off to the side.

“You’re beautiful,” Wanda whispered as she looked at your naked body for the first time. She ran her hands over your toned biceps, strong and wiry from years of kneading dough, and your pecs, down your toned stomach before reaching your cock. She grabbed it with one hand, stroking it gently as she dropped to her knees.

“Wanda,” you groaned as she worked her hands up and down your shaft. Pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she lined up her mouth with your tip and swallowed the first part of your penis. She swirled her tongue around your tip, coating it in saliva before removing her mouth and using it as lube to jack you off. Your knees felt weak as she took you in her mouth again, bobbing her head up and down your entire length. She sucked and licked and swirled your cock, hollowing her cheeks as she took you down her throat. The noises that came from her mouth as she gagged on your length were sinful, but it only made you want her that much more.

At one point she reached for your hand, placing it on the back of her head. You took that as a sign to do what you wanted, so you moved her head up and down at a speed you liked. You moaned as you felt the familiar fire burning within you, spurred on by the way Wanda’s eyes watered as she let you fuck her throat. She grabbed onto your thighs as you pounded into her, nails digging into your flesh as she looked up at you with those pleading green eyes.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned as Wanda ripped your hand away from her head, bringing her other hand up to jack you off as she sucked on your tip. The sudden suction and added stimulation immediately caused you to tumble over the edge as you released down her throat. She greedily swallowed every last drop. Having her suck you off like that was a life-changing experience.

Wanda sat back on her heels, wiping the drool from her chin as she gasped for air. “Nice cock,” she chuckled. “Hope it feels as good as it tastes.”

“Why don’t we find out?” you teased, offering your hand to her as she stood up. “But I think you’ve got too many clothes on for that.”

“I think we can take care of that,” Wanda smirked, reaching down to pull her shirt over her head. “Want to get my pants?” she asked as she reached behind her to undo her bra.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” you joked as you unbuttoned her jeans. You slid both them and her panties down her legs before she kicked them off. “Wow,” you said, taking a step back to admire her.

“Like what you see, tiger?”

“Wanda, I’m sure you’ve heard this a million times, but you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Wanda blushed a deep shade of crimson at your words. It wasn’t an exaggeration. She was absolutely gorgeous.

“Thank you,” she whispered sheepishly as she sat on the couch.

You sat down next to her, your eyes darting from one part of her nude figure to the other before you settled back on her lips. Leaning forward, you kissed her as she fell back on the couch. It didn’t take much to shift your position so that you were completely on top of her. You relished the taste of her lips as you kissed and you wanted to savor the sensation of every second.

“Fuck,” you murmured as you reached a hand down between her legs. “You’re absolutely soaked, Wanda.” She whined as you drew a finger up the length of her cunt, teasing around her engorged clit. “You do that to me every day. I go home soaking wet and fuck myself thinking about how good you’d feel inside me.” She bucked her hips against your hand, desperate to relieve the ache building within her. “God, I want you in me so bad, Y/N.”

“Jesus,” you whispered through gritted teeth as your erection swelled at her words. “And here I was trying to figure out how to tell you how the first thing I do every morning is jack off to the thought of you.”

“I guess we both have filthy minds then,” she grinned. Her face was flushed with arousal, the redness spreading down her neck and onto her breasts. “Fuck!” she exclaimed as you dipped a finger ever so slightly inside her before quickly pulling out. “Please just fuck me!”

“You’re cute when you beg,” you sighed as you lined yourself up with her entrance. You teased her with your tip, rubbing it up and down her slit and over her lips and clit before barely pushing your head in. She whined, rolling her hips in a feeble effort to lower herself onto you.

“Y/N please-” Wanda’s words turned into a sharp cry as you slammed your entire length inside her. Her pussy was absolute heaven. She was warm and wet, her slick velvety walls engulfing you and squeezing in all the right places.

“Oh my fucking god,” you croaked. You laid over her for a minute, trying to regroup yourself enough so you wouldn’t immediately blow your load inside her. As she adjusted to your intrusion and you calmed yourself down, you began to roll your hips against her, thrusting in and out.

“Shit,” she gasped. Wanda rolled her hips in time with yours, meeting you as you thrust your length all the way inside her. You continued at a steady pace, the sounds of her wet pussy being the only noise in the room.

“Are you okay?” you asked, noticing Wanda’s eyes were screwed shut.

“Feels really good. Can you go faster?” Not wanting to disappoint, you began to pound into her. Her mouth gaped open at your newfound intensity as she reached up to wrap her arms and legs around you. “Oh fuck, right there.”

The couch shook under the duress of your movements. You pounded into Wanda, her tight hole stretching perfectly around your cock with every thrust. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you grunted from exertion. Your moans and groans, along with the squelching of Wanda’s pussy, filled the room. As you pounded into her cunt, your cock disappearing within her wet folds, Wanda’s moans became louder and more erratic. “You close, baby girl?”

Wanda nodded, wrapping her legs tighter around your midsection. “My clit,” she choked out. You helped her move one of her arms from your back to the sensitive spot. She circled it furiously, a loud groan tearing from her chest. “Faster,” she commanded.

You doubled down on your efforts and hammered into her dripping cunt. The way her walls fluttered and clenched around you told you she wasn’t far away from her orgasm. The way she tightened around you sent that familiar coil through your lower abdomen. It wouldn’t be much longer until you reached your climax as well.

“I’m gonna cum,” she whined. You pounded into her as fast as you could, groaning as your hips slammed against her swollen pussy. Her hand circled her clit furiously. Wanda came with a loud groan, her back arching off the couch as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed down on her. Her walls throbbed and clenched rhythmically around you, the intense sensation finally causing you to cum as you released your thick load of cum deep inside her. Wanda dug her nails deep into your back as you absolutely ruined her.

“Fuck I love you,” you gasped as you collapsed on top of her from sheer exhaustion. Blood pounded in your ears and black dots peppered your vision as you recovered from the best orgasm you ever had.

“You love me?” Wanda asked, her eyes blown wide with desire from the afterglow of her incredible orgasm.

“Shit, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that.” A sense of panic overtook you as you stared down at Wanda.

“No it’s okay. I mean, I feel the same way,” she admitted, smiling back up at you.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm”

You chuckled as you leaned down to kiss her. “Guess I have to quit my job now.”

Wanda looked at you with a confused expression. “What?” she asked as she cocked an eyebrow.

“I told everyone that they’d be fired if they slept with you, so I guess I’ve gotta quit.”

“I love you,” Wanda giggled as she shook her head.

************************************************

“So let me get this straight: we’re merging with Latte Love after you threatened to fire us if we talked to Wanda?” Sam crossed his arms as he sat on the newly reconstructed front counter. You had called the team together to announce the new business venture you were about to embark on.

“Okay first off I only threatened to fire you if you slept with her. Talking to her would’ve resulted in a stern talking to and overnight donut duty for a week. Second, it's not a merger so much as it is a partnership. Both businesses will operate independent of one another, but now we’re going to start carrying some of their baked goods,” you explained. Everyone looked at you in utter disbelief, unable to fathom your sudden shift in the way you viewed Latte Love.

“What changed?” Nat asked, tapping her pen against the table.

“Oh you know…stuff…things,” you murmured sheepishly as your face reddened.

“Oh my god!” Nat’s eyes widened in realization as she stood up. “You slept with her!”

“Dude what?! That’s so -” Peter exclaimed before Sam slapped his hand over his mouth to shut him up. You pinched the bridge of your nose as you looked up at the ceiling. Natasha was laughing at the irony of the whole situation before she lambasted you with questions.

“How long has this been going on? Wait, was it a one time thing? Oh, it was definitely the time I made you go over there to talk to her when we were ripping up the floor. And you told me you two just talked. Talking my ass…Is this a business deal, like sex in exchange for pastries? Are you two a thing? I should’ve guessed with how much time you’ve been spending over there and how you never want to do anything fun with me anymo-”

“Nat, will you please shut up?!” Her endless questions were exasperating. Yes, you and Wanda were in fact a thing but you hadn’t told anyone about it. You hadn’t even told Nat about your back office hookup even though it happened two months ago. There was so much going on with rebuilding the bakery and dealing with insurance claims that you wanted to keep this part of your life private. “I just think it’d be a good idea for both of us, maximize our profits, boost both of our busin-”

“Hey babe, is there any way you can come help me with the rest of the-” Wanda paused as she barged in on your team meeting. “Oh hi guys!”

“Mmhmm, it’s definitely good for both of you,” Nat smirked as she took a sip of her coffee. You shot her a warning look while Wanda stood utterly oblivious to the scene unfolding around her. “Go on, go help your girlfriend with whatever she needs. I’ll show Peter how to do the bagels.”

You smiled at Wanda as you headed toward the door. “So what do you need my help with?”

“Nothing,” Wanda responded as she reached for your hand. “Just wanted to spend some time with my favorite guy.”

“Don’t let Pietro hear you say that.”

“That’s okay, he already knows.” She squeezed your hand reassuringly as you crossed the street.

You smiled as her grip tightened around your hand. Six months ago there was no way to predict that the woman who ruined your life would ultimately become the greatest thing that ever happened to you. As you crossed the threshold from your bakery to her cafe, you were grateful to be able to call The Rolling Scone, Latte Love, and Wanda home.

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