#like i would recommend it to y'all to read it once

[sunshiinnne]

"I'm learning the language of the World, and everything in the world is beginning to make sense to me...even the flight of the hawks."

The Alchemist, written by Paulo Coelho

(P.s I've read this book like a couple times and I discovered something new every time like there's so much between the lines. This is the one book that i mostly carry with myself around.)

[gurugirl]

Sex Tutor

Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.

A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!

Word Count: 10k

Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink

. . .

“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough

You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.

So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.

“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”

“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.

“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”

You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”

Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.

“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.

“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”

You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.

And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.

Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.

Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.

Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.

Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.

Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.

You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.

Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.

You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.

Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.

You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.

He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”

You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.

When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.

He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”

Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.

You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.

“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”

He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”

Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.

“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.

Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”

You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.

“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”

He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”

You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”

He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”

You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”

“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”

You nodded again.

Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”

“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well…” you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”

He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.

But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.

Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.

And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…

You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”

“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.

“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”

Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.

“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”

You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.

“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.

So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.

Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.

“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.

He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.

When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.

He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.

“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”

You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.

“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”

You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”

You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”

“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”

“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”

Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.

“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”

It made sense you guessed.

“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”

He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”

You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.

“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“

“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”

“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.

You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.

“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”

You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”

Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”

“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”

Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”

“Did it turn you on?”

Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”

Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”

You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”

“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”

“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”

It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.

“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”

Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”

You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.

“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”

“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”

“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”

It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.

He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”

You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.

 “So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”

You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”

Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.

For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.

“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”

He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.

You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.

Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.

Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.

“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”

You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”

Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“

“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”

“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”

Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.

The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.

Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”

“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”

You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.

Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”

You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”

You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.

You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”

You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”

“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”

You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.

You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.

He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.

He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.

“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”

He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”

You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.

The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.

“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”

You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”

Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”

You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”

“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.

After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.

Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”

You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”

Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”

Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.

When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”

The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.

The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.

And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.

Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.

It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).

The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.

He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.

When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.

Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.

“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.

“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.

Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”

You nodded.

“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.

He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”

Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.

You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.

“Fuck! Yes…”

You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.

You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”

You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”

He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.

You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.

When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.

And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.

But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.

Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.

He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”

You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…

You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.

“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.

A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.

Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.

“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”

Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.

And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.

Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.

The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.

“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”

Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.

When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”

He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.

You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.

You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.

He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.

When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.

You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”

But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.

When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.

“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”

He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.

He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.

The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.

Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.

You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.

“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.

You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.

If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.

He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.

“Did that all for me? Yeah?”

You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.

“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.

Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.

“Feel okay?”

You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”

“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.

You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”

You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.

“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”

There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.

Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.

You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.

When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.

“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”

He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”

“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“

He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.

You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”

“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”

PART 2

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[jjoongiesbetter]

✎ᝰ. mon's ateez fic recommendations (part 1)!

mdni!

│hi there! i haven't read much lately so the first part came across as a bit shorter than i expected but the next ones will surely be longer!

— as a writer myself, i just wanted to take a moment to thank all the authors for sharing such incredible writing, your hard work is truly appreciated! thank you for sharing your writing with us! ♡

──────── ♡⸝⸝

⤷ kim hongjoong x reader

♡┆ugh, as if by @ennysbookstore; the whole mini-series is just amazing and i enjoyed each part a lot! once i started i couldn't stop reading! loved how well hongjoong was written! the build-up of the first part was top-notch! and the character development... i should thank the author on my knees for writing this masterpiece. one of the best authors out there! definitely will read again!

♡┆swapped by @daisykihannie; the prompt is just so fun and interesting, one of the most creative ones i stumbled across! i haven't read something like this before. enjoyed it very very much!

♡┆punching bag by @mulloey; i must admit it was so just so undeniably hot, angry hongjoong and also so well-written! you will find me re-reading it an unholy amount of times.

♡┆clumsy hearts, steady love by @edenesth; WHAT IF I TELL YOU I CRIED? i already commented on this one on my main but im going to repeat myself! incredibly written, hongjoong suits the concept so well, my heart hurt a bit while reading but it's hongjoong, of course, i forgive him. somehow still very cute.

⤷ jeong yunho x reader

♡┆active recovery by @k-hotchoisan; y'all so i was always so shy about commenting on smut but tbh don't we all read it? author killed it yet again! got me hot, bothered and i am starting to consider a gym subscription!

♡┆the drill by @byuntrash101; look i know this one was posted last year, and i am so mad for not reading it sooner😭 i loved the storyline, wooyoung as a side character was just so funny, yunho without rizz altered my brain chemistry. i can't lie i was thinking about this fic for days after i read it! it's the perfect blend of fun and smut.

♡┆private lessons by @bombuni; i must admit i love professor yunho and it is always a pleasure finding and reading such fics, especially when it's as good as this one! (would love to see a part two one day)

♡┆muffled by @desirehorizon; the plot!!! the writing!!! the smut!!! and it was funny too!!! what more can i want? perfect!! imma say it once again but i enjoyed every word of this fic!!! can't wait to read more from the author!

⤷ song mingi x reader

♡┆still your biggest fan by @byuntrash101; good god it was just so incredibly hot, we need to appreciate the idea because it surely is creative! who doesn't just love teasing mingi? let's agree that we all do.

♡┆sour candy by @0097linersb; loved the idea🙂‍↕️ needy mingi is my favorite mingi, it was very very hot. you better find the time and read it!

⤷ choi jongho x reader

♡┆minor nuisance by @everyonewooeverywhere; i tell you they are in love love! trust me, you definitely need to read this one! jongho was just so sweet, a great fluff/smut combo and now i need jongho in my life even more :(

♡┆freestyle lap by @bro-atz; we all should know by now that bro is just simply one of the best when it comes to smut and they never, never disappoint. i definitely needed to read this one after i saw that pool jongho pics. if you haven't read it yet, what are you even doing?

♡┆falling and sleeping by @seonghwaddict; it was posted earlier this year but i just had to include it :( it was just utterly cute, jongho is adorable. well-written, and melted my poor heart.

multiple members:

⤷ choi jongho x kang yeosang x reader

♡┆the post show high by @bombuni; i must shamelessly admit while reading it i felt like the author somehow got into my brain and just picked one of my fantasies, hope it's not tmi. so saying i loved it it's an understatement! one of my favorite authors for real!

pairings:

⤷ kim hongjoong x jeong yunho (hohong)

ao3 ♡┆darling, you will bury me (before i bury you) by SunshineAndRayne; cute cute cute! i loved every letter of it, yunho is so whipped and i am living for it!

ao3 ♡┆waiting for you by marspacz; i absolutely loved this one so much! my heart needed this, had me smiling the entire time i was reading! and then the shotgun scene—damn, that was hot!

[endlessthxxghts]

Animals

DBF!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈2.5k

Summary: Joel randomly calls you and tells you to meet him outside. Your parents are home though, and you can't necessarily tell them that Joel, your father's best friend, is asking you to go with him somewhere. Do you give a little white lie and leave, or do you wait until it's safer?

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified, but legal). Reader still lives with parents but she is an adult. Nosy and controlling ass parents to their child who's a grown ass adult. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Inappropriate car activities while driving. Handjob. Blowjob. Pulling into a parking lot in broad daylight to do some stuff... P in V unprotected. ✨Save a horse, ride a cowboy (in a parking lot)✨ Reader has bit of a size kink. Cum swallowing... Is there a term for kissing with semen in both y'all's mouths??? (Don't look at me...). Possessive kink. Spanking (just once though). Getting caught... Exhibitionism...😵‍💫 I think that’s as much as I can say without spoiling anything, so! After you read it, let me know if there’s anything that I should put in here that I missed out on!

A/N: One of my all-time favorite songs is Animals by Nickelback. As of lately, though, with all my Joel brain rot, I can't NOT think DBF!Joel every time I play it... so... here we are... I recommend listening before or when you read, just to really add to the experience hehehe.😈 @javierpena-inatacvest I hope you’re hungry!😋 Enjoy, y’all!!!

MASTERLIST

You’re beside me on the seat,

Got your hand between my knees,

And you control how fast we go by just how hard you wanna squeeze.

“Two minutes, get your ass outside.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. You blindly brought your phone up to your ear with your parents in the room with you, not taking the time to check the caller ID. 

“I-” you start as you head to the bathroom, not wanting your parents to overhear anything. “I can’t just leave right now, and especially not with you.” He scoffs over the phone. “I was at the dining table with my parents, jackass.” 

“But you’re not anymore, right?” 

“No.”

“And they didn’t question you?”

“Didn’t give them the chance to.”

“Just get out here. I’ll drive off quick, no one will see,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Joel,” you say, your tone betraying your logical responses.

“Now,” he says before ending the call. 

Your heart racing, you peer at yourself in the mirror, making sure you look semi-presentable even though you know Joel’s intentions are going to ruin your appearance anyway. You leave the bathroom, heading for the front door as fast as possible. 

“Who called ya?” your dad asked. 

“Going somewhere?” your mother followed.

“Just a friend. And I’m gonna step out real quick, I’ll be back in a bit,” you say nonchalantly, not trying to raise any suspicion. Your mother raises her brow at you. 

“I really hope you both find the value in respecting people’s privacy,” you say, stepping out the front door as you speak, erasing the chances of any further commentary. That may have come across more harsh than you would have liked, but even into adulthood, the three of you have gotten into huge fights for your whereabouts. It’s not like you left them in the dark all the time or kept them up late waiting for you to get home. You were living under their roof, so you still respected their time. Yet, it was never enough. And you were too wound up thinking about Joel to bite your tongue.

He parked a house away, and you’re practically running at the speed of light to get into the passenger side so he can pull away before your parents decide to make it to the window to gain any more information they can. 

As soon as you get into the passenger seat, though, Joel has different plans as he immediately puts one hand around your waist and the other on the thigh closest to him. You’re barely able to shut the door before he pulls you into the middle of the bench seat of his truck, your body flushed against his. You squeak out at his quickness, his strength. He smirks at it. 

He lets his hand on your thigh drag up your body and situate itself on your jaw, turning your face to his and kissing you deeply, all tongue and teeth and thickened spit due to how fucking turned on both of you are. 

You pull away, breathless, “Baby, you need to drive off, now.”

“Shit, sorry,” he says, releasing his hold on you. “Stop distractin’ me,” he playfully scolds, a smile full of trouble across his face as he pulls out of the neighborhood. 

You scoff at him now, perplexed at his audacity to tell you that you’re distracting him. It makes an idea pop in your head. You’ll show him a distraction. 

You shift your body to face him. Your hand lands on his thigh, running up and down lightly, getting closer to his hardened bulge that’s been begging for your attention since he dialed your number. 

His grip on the wheel tightens, his jaw twitching, “Darlin’,” he grits. “What are you doin’?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say as you lean in closer, licking a stripe up his neck, your mouth at his ear. “Just,” you cup his erection, “being a distraction.”

His hips push up into your hand. He is painfully hard right now, his entire neck and face a bright red from your ministrations. You unzip his jeans, pulling it and his underwear down to let his cock free. You moan at the sight.

“I’m warnin’ you, girl.”

“Want me to stop?” 

Silence. 

He moves his arm closest to you to sprawl along the back of the bench seat, giving you complete access to him as he attempts to drive you two to God knows where. 

You scoot closer in, and let out a content giggle. You place a wet kiss at his pulse point, whispering in his ear, “Thought so, baby.”

You bring your hand up to your mouth and let your spit pool in your hand, bringing it back down to his length, spreading it all over before you wrap your fingers around him.

“Joel, baby, fuck-” you moan in his ear as you slowly begin pumping him, “look how fucking big you are in my hands,” you whine. “Can barely wrap my hand around you,” you say as you nip at his neck again. 

Joel begs his eyes to stay on the road, knowing that if he were to look down right now, he’d lose every ounce of his control — on both his self restraint and his damn truck. But, God damn, the slapping sound of your hand on his spit-soaked cock as you whine and writhe at his side has him desperate. He glances down for barely a millisecond, and he can’t help the groan that leaves his throat, his head threatening to throw itself back in utter pleasure. 

“Am I doing good, baby?” You ask him. “A good distraction?” You add, your lips ghosting his jaw with each syllable. 

“F-fuckin H-hell, baby,” he stutters, hips softly meeting every push and pull of your hand. “G-gonna make me c-crash this f-fuckin’ car.” 

With his admission, your grip gets a little tighter, pumps get a little faster, and you're giving extra attention to the head of his cock. He’s pulsing beneath you, breathing erratic, and you can’t stop the urge to lean down and take him into your mouth. 

On instinct, Joel’s foot falls a little heavier on the gas, causing him to drive a little roughly over a bump on the road. His dick pushes deeper into your mouth, causing the tip to hit at the back of your throat. 

The spit that forms from your gag reflex gives you an easier ability to devour him just as he likes—warm, wet, and sloppy. Your head begins to bob faster, your hand still supporting the base of him as you periodically cup him below, and he’s an absolute mess. 

You pull away for one moment in a choked breath, your hand now jacking him off, and you look up at him through your eyelashes. 

“I know you’re close, baby, I feel it,” you gasp out as your hand squeezes a little more, at the pressure you know makes him break. “Need you to cum, baby, need you to fill my fucking throat,” and with that, your mouth is back on him. 

“Oh, f-fu-…” Joel nearly growls out, immediately pulling into some random parking lot, thankful the nearest slot was empty. The second the car is in park, he’s shooting his load down your throat, his hand flying to the back of your head to keep you stuffed full of him. 

The way that you’re so turned on right now just by giving him the sloppiest head he has ever experienced has you absolutely dripping—an absolute moaning mess, vibrating him into overstimulation. He pulls you off, and you can’t help the blissed out smirk that forms on your face as you swallow almost everything he gave you, residue dripping down your chin. 

He brings your face to his, and his tongue collects up his own spend, feeding it back to you in a desperate, sloppy kiss—if you can even call it that. 

As your lips tangle in a nasty embrace, he’s quick to rip your bottoms off as he settles you on his lap. The feel on your pussy of his spent cock slowly getting erect again has you moaning into his mouth, your hips grinding down onto him, arousal coating him, urging him back to his full, hard length. 

“Sh-shit,” falls from your mouth as his trails further down, leaving kisses down your throat. Joel brings his hand down to pump himself a few more times, ensuring he’s at full attention. Your hips lift up on instinct, Joel notching his tip at your soaking entrance. 

You lower yourself onto him, going in with ease with how wet both you and him are, the stretch of him still providing that delicious burn. No matter how prepared or lubed up either of you are, that burn will never go away. You never want it to. It flips a certain switch of lust within you—an animalistic need—knowing just how fucking big he is, knowing that it’s all for you. 

Usually when you’re on top, he’s extra sensitive, and you wait for him to give the signal for you to move. That need is there, though, and you can’t wait. As soon as your hips are flushed with his, you’re immediately lifting back up and dropping down on him again, maintaining a brutal pace that has you both uttering incoherent filth. 

You place your hands on either side of his head, gripping the back of his seat to give you better momentum as you bounce on him. His hands are gripping at the globes of your ass, guiding your movements, fingertip-shaped bruises threatening to form. “Fuck, sweet girl,” he lets out, “just like that, baby.” His face is nuzzled in between your breasts, nipping and licking at them with every bounce of your thrusts. 

His words cause your pussy to flutter, a possessive feeling gliding down your spine. Your one hand releases the chair and grasps at the curls on the base of his neck. “T-tell me,” you stutter, “t-tell me who my p-pussy belongs to,” you get out, licking into his mouth before you let him answer. 

His hips begin to meet your movements, his pubic bone providing the cherry on top to unravel you. His lips are against yours, breaths intertwining into the thick air, windows beginning to fog. “Mine,” Joel growls. Your hips speed up, the truck shaking and squeaking with every movement. “This pussy is mine. You,” he breathes, “are fuckin’ mine,” a stinging pain fills your senses before your brain registers the slap to your ass. 

Your thighs begin to shake and your body goes rigid, your climax teetering against the edge. 

“Joel,” you cry out. 

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, let go for me,” he coos. And just as he’s about to hold you down to fuck up into you, a car parks right next to you, door immediately slamming as the person gets out and urgently peers into the driver’s side window. 

Both of you are too close to stop your movements, the person’s face outside the car falling into pure horror and shock at what’s going on inside. 

“Oh!” you scream out, both of you using all your strength to stop but unable to.

“That’s my dad outside the car!”

Oh please, the keys, they’re not in the ignition,

Must have wound up on the floor while we were switching our positions. 

Before you know it, you’re pulsing around his cock as he fills up another one of your holes with thick, hot ropes of his cum. 

Neither of you realize just when your father scrambled back into his car and drove away, but the idea of getting caught turned both of you on more than you’d ever admit. 

You don’t get off of him just yet, both of you sitting in each other’s sweaty embrace as you let your breathing and heart rates return to normal. 

“So…” he says, rubbing circles on the small of your back. 

You look up at him, chin perched on his chest. “So,” you giggle. 

“What the fuck do we do?” he asks, wordlessly referring to the mishap with your father.

Not as worried, you mess with him before giving a serious answer. “Mmm,” you say as you place a light kiss to his chest, “I was thinking you give me your boxers since you ripped the only bottoms I have on me, and you deal with the jeans chafing your balls until you get back home.”

His eyes go wide, completely forgetting that he did that, and silently cursing himself for doing something so stupid. Luckily he decided to actually wear underwear today.

“Oh, fuck, baby, I’m so sorry, I just-” he pauses for a moment. “You fuckin’ distracted me!” he says before he completely busts out in laughter, a deep howl filling the car. You smack his chest, your laughter following suit. 

“You motherfucker,” you say, sitting up a little straighter, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. 

He smiles at you, pure warmth and adoration in his eyes. He clears his throat, his face a little more serious. “I, uh, I was actually talkin’ about your old man, though.”

“I know,” you say, completely unbothered.

“Are you not worried?”

You shrug your shoulders. “No.”

“You don’t think he’s gonna try and wring my neck out?”

“Baby,” you laugh, “no, he’s not gonna wring your neck out. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

“Oh, gee. Thanks,” he deadpans.

“I promise you, I’ve got it taken care of.”

His fingers grasp your chin, pulling you in for another kiss, a little longer than the last. “I trust you.”

As soon as you enter the front door, you see both your parents at the dining table again. Though, this time around, instead of controlling and angry, they look pale and embarrassed. 

You stroll to the dining table, not caring to sit down, and you get straight to the point. They can’t even look you in the eye. 

“So? Did we learn our lesson about-”

“Yes,” your parents say in unison, “please just,” your mother continues as your dad starts to retreat anywhere else but here. “Let’s not talk about it.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles in your chest. 

“You’re a grown woman,” your mother says, rigidly. “It’s really not our business what you do anymore.” You peer at your father. He throws a thumbs up at your mother’s words, eyes still trained on everything else but you. 

“Glad ya guys came to your senses,” you say, offering a smug smile. You can’t help it. If catching you having the steamiest sex in an older man’s car is what causes them to stop breathing down your neck, then so be it. You’d have intentionally done something like this ages ago if that’s what it took. 

You start heading to your room when your dad finally speaks. Still unable to look you in the eyes. “Tell Joel I don’t give a fuck what he does—what y’all do—just,” he pauses to take a breath. “Tell him not to address any of this with me. Ever.”

“Deal.”

No, no matter where we go,

‘Cause everybody knows,

We’re just a couple animals. 

End Note: Well. That killed me. The amount of laps I took writing this...🥴 Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc, — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback for my stories (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @akah565 @pedrostories

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[hoe4hotchner]

Après toi | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader CW: You're dead in this one, grief, loss, depression. WC: 1.3k

This is for all the people who complain about there being too much smut in general. I hope y'all cry so hard that you have to lay in bed for 5 days contemplating life.

I'm crying -> I strongly recommend listening to the song while reading.

           Aaron Hotchner sat alone in his office, staring blankly at the stack of case files on his desk. The once-familiar sight now felt foreign, almost meaningless. He had been through countless cases, seen the worst of humanity, but nothing had ever prepared him for this. For the unbearable, all-encompassing emptiness that consumed him now.

           It had been months since you died, and still, the world around him carried on like nothing had changed. But for Aaron, everything had changed. The moment you were taken from him, the light in his life went out. The days blurred together, each one a repetition of the last, filled with work that he barely had the energy to do and memories that haunted him every second.

           Before he met you, Aaron had thought he was fine. He was strong, he was focused, and he had his son, Jack. He didn’t need anything else. Or so he thought. He had been lonely for a long time, but he buried that feeling deep, keeping himself busy with work and his responsibilities as a father. He didn’t allow himself to think about the empty spaces in his life - spaces he wasn’t even fully aware of.

           Then you had come into his life. You, with your bright smile and warm presence, had filled every empty space he hadn’t known existed. You were his soul mate, the one person who made everything make sense. When you were there, the world seemed softer, kinder. Aaron could finally breathe in a way he hadn’t been able to in years. It felt like you were the missing piece he hadn’t known he needed, the one who made him feel complete.

           Those moments with you were the best of his life. The small, everyday things - watching a movie together, cooking dinner, the way you laughed at his dry jokes - they meant everything to him. He remembered how you would reach out and touch his arm when he was lost in thought, grounding him without a word. You just knew him, in a way no one else ever had. You made him feel like it was okay to be vulnerable, to let his guard down, if only for a little while.

           He thought about those memories constantly now, clinging to them as if they were the only things keeping him afloat. Because in a way, they were. Without you, he didn’t know how to exist anymore. The love you had shared had become the foundation of his life, and now that you were gone, that foundation had crumbled, leaving him adrift in a sea of grief.

           He closed his eyes and could see you so clearly, as if you were still there with him. Your smile, the sound of your voice, the way you used to look at him like he was the most important person in the world. But no matter how hard he tried to hold onto those memories, they always slipped through his fingers, leaving him with nothing but the crushing realization that you were never coming back.

           The day you died had been like any other. Just another case, another day at work. But the explosion came without warning, tearing through everything. And just like that, you were gone. Aaron had been right there, so close, but he couldn’t save you. He hadn’t been fast enough. The guilt was unbearable, a weight he carried with him every second of every day. It gnawed at him, making him question everything. If he had done something differently, maybe you’d still be here.

           He replayed that day in his head over and over, torturing himself with the "what ifs." What if he had seen the danger sooner? What if he had told you to stay back? What if he had just been a little faster? The questions never stopped, and the answers never came. All he was left with was the raw, gnawing pain of your absence.

           It was worse at night. When the world was quiet and there was nothing to distract him, that’s when the grief hit hardest. He would lie awake for hours, staring at the empty side of the bed where you used to sleep. The silence was deafening. He’d give anything to hear your voice again, to feel your warmth beside him. But all that remained was the cold, hollow space where you used to be.

           Aaron found himself sinking deeper into the darkness. The weight of your loss was too much to bear, and he didn’t know how to carry it. He had tried to move forward, for Jack’s sake, but every step felt like he was walking through quicksand. He was drowning, and there was no one there to save him.

           His colleagues had noticed the change in him. They could see the shadows under his eyes, the way he had pulled back from everyone. But no matter how much they tried to help, no matter how many times they offered their support, he couldn’t let them in. He couldn’t burden them with his grief. This was his to bear, and his alone.

           The team had been through so much together, but this was different. This was personal, and no one could truly understand the depth of what he had lost. And despite their loss too, you weren’t just a colleague, you were his other half. Without you, he felt like half of himself had been ripped away, leaving him raw and bleeding. He had never felt this kind of pain before, and he didn’t know how to live with it.

           Sometimes, he would catch himself talking to you, even though he knew you weren’t there. He’d tell you about his day, about Jack, about the team. It was a way of keeping you close, of pretending for just a moment that you were still with him. But the silence that followed was always a brutal reminder that you were gone, and that nothing could bring you back.

           Aaron thought about the time before he met you, and how he had managed to survive without you then. But now, after knowing what it was like to have you in his life, he didn’t know how to go on without you. He was lost, and he didn’t know if he would ever find his way back.

           His life had become a blur of numbness and routine, each day a copy of the one before. The only thing that broke the monotony was the overwhelming waves of grief that would crash over him without warning, leaving him gasping for breath. He had lost count of how many times he had broken down in his office, tears streaming down his face as he clutched the photo of you he kept on his desk.

           The pain was relentless, a constant ache in his chest that never went away. It was as if a piece of him had been ripped out, leaving a gaping wound that would never heal. He had loved you with everything he had, and now that love was all that was left, a burning reminder of what he had lost.

           He thought about the song you used to play on lazy Sunday mornings. It had been your song, a beautiful melody that spoke of love and devotion. Now, the lyrics felt like a cruel reminder of the life you had built together, a life that had been torn away in an instant.

           Before you, he had been fine. After you, he was nothing.

           Aaron wiped at his eyes, feeling the familiar sting of tears. He missed you more than words could ever express, and the thought of living the rest of his life without you was unbearable. But as much as he wanted to give up, he couldn’t. Not for Jack. He had to keep going, even if it felt impossible.

           But in the quiet moments, when the weight of the world pressed down on him, Aaron allowed himself to mourn. To remember you, to grieve for what could have been, and to ache for the love he had lost.

           And in those moments, he was nothing more than a man who had loved deeply, and lost everything.

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [2]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but what you can't do is accept the fact that they're your soulmates.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory

Words: 8.6k

I posted this a day later than the one on ao3 because I forgor :''DD

Seeing the support and comments from both website got me off my ass to fix the storyline, even made a lot of changes on the chapters I've had preserved.

this chapter got rewritten a LOT, and was longer than it initially was so I hope y'all don't mind long chapters.

[1] [2] [3] ...

__________

There's been times where your heart has truly fluttered for a man throughout your lifetime. Too many times has it been because some of your bosses (read: Jimin) flirted with you but you have never felt anything remotely giddy for anyone else outside the group.

Except for the man now sitting in front of you, flashing you a dimpled smile after handing out his card with an ease you only see in your friends and male leads in dramas. An action more attractive than any kabaedon or flexed muscles.

He's attractive but you don't like like him.

Yoo Guwon came to you as a bashful giant, rubbing the back of his head whenever he’s flustered and a constant sheepish smile featuring his deep set of dimples indented on both cheeks. He’s charming and articulate with his words just like a lawyer would be. Everything about him reminds you of another gentle and clumsy giant probably hunched over his music equipment back in the BigHit building.

It’s only been a few hours but you surprisingly covered most of the basic grounds of first meeting conversations during the short time you drove around Han River in a two seated bicycle. From the meager questions of ‘what dreams do you have?’ to the more complex and deeper ‘If the world falls into ruin, will you burn my body when I die?’. 

Too graphic for a first date but you wanted to test the waters and you concluded that he’s too perfect.

He knows the right words to say, the proper way to act and it makes you suspicious. Your mother has never recommended you to a good guy before, having a track record of ten shitty suitors who all ran their mouths about their mediocre achievements, and dared to ask you about your purity before ranting about how dirty you are for not saving yourself for your husband the moment they find out you're not a virgin anymore. Then all of a sudden, she led you to good boy Guwon.

And it makes your skin crawl.

What did that woman eat? Has your father fed her something bad this time? What is she planning? It’s scary how she has finally advocated for an actual nice guy.

After taking you to a museum you're sure Namjoon has visited once, he drove you both to the Han River to rent a double seated bike to drive around with before ending the night with a nice reservation somewhere in the Seocho district.

The place is as sophisticated as fine dining areas usually are. With an intimate lighting, marbled tabletops matched with soft cushioned seats and high ceilings to make space for modern glass chandeliers, the restaurant was no doubt expensive, the type you have to reserve a spot two months prior to be able to experience its greatness. The point was driven home when you saw the amount of zeros it cost for one can of soda. 

You asked him how he managed to get a table and he went down the rabbit hole of the many advantages he got from successful cases, ranging from a free monthly subscription to fruit baskets to a free week-long voucher to a five star hotel somewhere in Busan. 

Going back to the butterflies, while not as wild as it got when Hoseok possessively wrapped an arm thrown around your waist to pretend as your boyfriend to ward off a persistent suitor, they're there, albeit subtle.

Very subtle.

Maybe it's in the way he didn't think twice to hand out his card towards the waiter in the most suave way with the thick golden watch decorating his wrist, sleeves neatly folded up to reveal the thick cords of veins on his forearms with his hair strewn messily and a dimpled smile that made you react like that.

You ignore the voice comparing his uncannily similar traits to someone else.

Meeting Guwon wasn't like how the movies illustrated love at first sights. They talked of fireworks exploding in the background and hearing the sweet chimes of wedding bells upon eye contact but for him, it's just that. A meeting far more formal than you'd like. He has a lot of qualities that check your list of husband material traits yet instead of butterflies, you could only feel an echoing hollowness in your chest as you listen to him list out his future plans. 

It felt like surrendering to the fate the divinities had weaved out for you which is being an untethered forced to love someone you don't even feel any spark with.

He's a nice man who’s offering a comfortable future and you're just a woman who wishes to live a lavish life at home while your husband wastes his years away in the office. You might be a hopeless romantic who wished for soulmates and the like but you're not blind to the opportunity Guwon offers you.

You haven't texted the gc anything during the date other than the selfie you took before you left for the date but there's been constant vibrations in your purse and it's no doubt the guys asking for updates but for a moment you wanted to try to focus on the man before you.

Not that it wasn't hard to try with Guwon anyways.

Whenever the man spoke of his achievements and hobbies with a humble approach, he never forgot to ask you for your opinion or input on the topic. You also noted how he has never cut you off and let you speak whenever you wanted, listening with an eagerness only your friends usually show. He asked relevant questions with a genuine curiosity, eager to know more about you. 

So when he asked if you wanted to go on a second date that night, it came to no surprise for anyone when you accepted it albeit the heaviness in your heart.

It was funny how eagerly you searched for a husband you could bring to your parents' doorsteps but the moment someone with all the qualities you seeked came, it felt disappointing. Boring even.

But you can learn, this man is your ticket to living without working anymore.

It came to no one's surprise that your mother was overjoyed, she wasted no time calling you before you could even change to squeeze the memory of today out of you.

The shrill scream of victory she let out that night was unforgettable because finally, a suitor you actually liked. Your dad even congratulated her off-screen for her matchmaking achievements before telling you to bring Guwon home to meet them.

Logically, you’re aware you've won the love roulette—Guwon has it all, he checked every box on your list, yet it felt like defeat and it tasted foul, bitter on your tongue.

You couldn't tell them that it was you deciding to settle, that would break her heart.

Tapping the end call button felt like the dam breaking and all the water held onto for so long flowed out. You fall lifelessly on your bed with a heavy sigh. Taking a couple evening breaths, you finally opened the group chat with an overwhelming number of unread messages.

[Today, 08:49]

[08:49] Mimi: I'd run my bank dry to take you on dates if you'd dress so pretty like that, noona~

[08:49]Tete: We're really seeing this for free when the poor guy has to pay for it. #livingapriviledgedlife😁👍

[08:49] Hobi: Wow noona🤯

[08:50] Yoongs: 👍

[08:55] Tete: Wait, I don't think those shoes fit you, go back home and change it😁

[08:56] Jinnie: Hey, you're showing too much skin on the first date! Go back and change!

[08:57] Joonie: Ignore these haters noona, I hope you enjoy your day😊

[Today, 21:48]

[21:48] Jinnie: are you home yet? You haven't seen our messages in HOURS.

[21:48] Tete: NOONA DID YOU GET MURDERED?!😱

[21:50] Joonie: Let's be rational guys, don't jump to conclusions. The date might just be going great if she's busy enough to not check her phone😊.

[21:51] Mimi: doing great? don't scare me like that hyung😵‍💫

[21:51] Tete: BUT WHAT IF SHE GOT KIDNAPPED HYUNG????

[21:51] Hobi: please reply soon, we're worried🥲

Jungkook's absence from the conversation didn't come to you as a shock, the kid doesn't even reply to you for a week despite being one of the people who raised him. Nonetheless, you sat up from your bed to record a quick video of you giving them a thumbs up and turning the camera to show your room.

The latter was an assurance to Taehyung that no, you also didn't get kidnapped into someone else's house to be someone's housekeeper, and no, it wasn't a clone either.

The moment your message gets sent, the replies blow up your phone almost instantaneously.

[22:28] Mimi: noona you're alive!

[22:28] Joonie: How did the date go?😊

[22:28] Jinnie: how nice of you to remember to update us PEASANTS.

[22:28] Mimi: How was Guwon?

[22:29] Tete: I KNEW WE SHOULD'VE WENT WITH YOU ANYWAYS

[22:29] You: Shockingly, he's a pretty nice guy. Not too bad on the eyes, and pretty smart. I think you'd get along well with him, joon. He's a lawyer so he covered most of the expenses today😁

[22:29] You: Overall, it was great, we're gonna go on a second one. He's pretty cool.

Instantly, messages from the members, even Jungkook’s to your surprise, flooded your screen.

[22:30] Tete: Noona you've been cursed! We need to bring you to the nearest shaman to break it!!

[22:30] Mimi: don't joke with us noona

[22:30] Mimi: I just got goosebumps!

[22:30] Joonie: Congratulations are in order then? Will we be expecting him around you soon?

[22:31] Yoongs: I need to meet him, need to know if he's good enough

[22:31] Yoongs: men are trash, I need to see him for myself before I decide

[22:32] Yoongs: and you know what they say about lawyers, they LIE. I wouldn't trust him 

[22:32] Jinnie: WE need to meet the man who managed to steal your heart! I want to talk to him😊

[22:32] Mimi: don't use that emoji again, hyung

[22:32] Hobi: SCARY JWANN😱

[22:32] Joonie: Let’s not threaten anyone please.

[22:32] Joonie: But I'm really happy for you 😁.

[22:33] Tete: Those periods really scares me hyung…

[22:33] Tete: Somehow, I don't think you mean it…

[22:33] Joonie: What makes you think that, tae?😁.

[22:33] Tete: 😰

[22:34] Ggukie: a few drinks will fix you up, noona😁

[22:34]  Mimi: you'll invite me this time right?

[22:34] You: I don't know, you already used your mischief hours this week, I doubt Sejin would be so kind next time.

[22:34] Hobi: if he does that right now during practice, I also wouldn't be so kind to him😊

[22:34] Mimi: you are scaring me hyung…

[22:34] Hobi: good😊

[22:34] Tete: Hyung, are you just gonna ignore Jungkook leaving?!?!!?

The messages continued for a good five minutes, mostly consisting of holding Jimin back from leaving practice and him sending pictures of the infamous Hoseok death glare from across the room before your doorbell chime rang, making you shoot up straight.

A beat. Then it continues in three quick successions, the knocks almost in sing-song and sounded like two hands were used to produce the tune, giving you an inkling on who might be visiting you at this late hours of night.

Padding out of your room, the front door suddenly swings open without warning and you yelp. By the doorsteps stands the intruder, a tall man in a black coat with his face hidden by a mask and a cap. Your body would've frozen a thousand times over if you didn't know this stranger who's hugging two paper bags, one overflowing with snacks and the other a breeze away from tearing apart from the weight and water drenching the material of the bag.

"Hi noona!"

After today, seeing Jungkook felt like a cure, his presence alone repelling the heaviness in your shoulders and you ushered him inside and he wandered into your home with ease, approaching the coffee table to place down the shopping bags. 

Suddenly you remembered what he had scheduled prior.

"You're putting me on Hoba’s punishment rotation, what are you doing here?" 

He giggled. “We both know he won't, hyung loves you more than me.”

He falls on your couch with the ease of someone who has visited your space numerous times throughout the years, propping up his feet on the back support and folding his arms underneath his head before staring up at you, expectantly.

"Anyways, I brought us food and drinks, don't I deserve a little praise?" 

Sometimes it's easy to forget how young Jungkook really is, forced to grow and act mature to blend in with his surroundings, you've always seen him stand with pride alongside his hyungs. Seeing him awaiting for your praise so eagerly like a pup fills your heart with awe.

"Yeah yeah, good job. Now move over, let me sit down."

You tapped his arm, motioning him to move over so you could sit next to him, something he obeyed without resistance, busying himself in removing the contents from the soiled paper bag instead.

“Couldn't you have put some effort into it? At least sound grateful.” He pouts. Placing down the cluster of beer cans, you turned to him and pinched his cheeks.

“Oh my dearest darling, thank you for saving this noona of yours. Such an amazing baby I have here.”

Despite being the one who asked for it, Jungkook only rolled his eyes with a barely held back grin as he slapped your hands away, making you laugh, and turned to the bag holding the snacks he bought. You didn't miss the redness dusting his cheeks or the cheeky grin that tugged his lips wide as he spilled the contents of the last bag onto the table.

There's a significant amount of sweets and snacks laid before you, as well as stacks of canned beers and you turned to him with furrowed brows.

"Wouldn't this ruin your diet?"

He waved you off with a huff. "I work out enough to eat all of these in one sitting."

Instantly, your mind brings you back to white walls and gray furniture, faced with manager Sejin who warned you about interfering with the idols' diet at the start of your career. If it wasn't for Bang PD waving off their concerns, saying they needed to be rewarded for their hard work anyways, you would've been long booted out of the company.

It's a matter long settled yet it remains to weigh heavily in your head.

Seeing the hesitation in your eyes, Jungkook continues.

"I can show you proof of my efforts," 

He then reached down to the fabric of his shirt tucked into his jeans and tugged it up, flashing you the tightly corded muscles in forming on his abdomen and the thin happy trail you often see when patting his sweat down during concerts and you hastily pulled it back down with a yelp, cheeks growing hot while he laughed.

As he throws his head back in his mirth, you couldn't help but notice the way adulthood has taken away the fullness of his cheeks and has sharpened his features. A far cry from the sensitive young boy who cried his eyes out every time his hyungs got hurt. 

There was no denying that Jungkook had grown without you noticing and it makes your chest swell with pride knowing he's been raised well by the others, in extension, although not so much, you as well.

"Don't worry so much about me, noona. I can handle the consequences now, you leave the reprimanding to me."

Under the warm overhead light of your living room, even with the exaggerated puff of his chest and his nose turnt up high, Jungkook's shoulder had never looked sturdier, reliable, in your eyes. You smiled, reaching to pinch both his cheeks making him grin wider than he already was.

"Look at you acting so cool, when did you grow so much?"

He rolled his eyes, pulling your hands away from his cheeks and entangling it with his. “I've always been cool, you just don't pay attention to me, noona.”

Before you could reply, he's already moved to reach for the beverages on the coffee table, popping two of them open and handing you one can, immediately you take a swig.

The beer fizzled in your tongue and left a trail of burns down your throat. The sensation is refreshing nonetheless and you place it down next to him before picking up the large bags of chips and standing up.

"I'll go put these in a bowl, go put something on the tv."

"Can I play anime?"

You waved at him dismissively, unable to find it in yourself to say no to him as you head towards your kitchen to transfer the junk into a bowl when a shrill tune from your bedroom cuts through the air, someone was calling you. You look over to Jungkook, scrolling through his phone, no doubt looking for a movie online.

"Gguk, can you pick up the call for me? My hands are busy right now."

There's a shuffle of feet behind you and in a moment, your phone quietens down. Finished with filling one bowl, you turn to find Jungkook leaving your room with a deep look and your phone in hand. His jaw set tight as he stood there with furrowed brows, eyes lit with irritation.

Looking at his reaction, you asked about your mysterious caller.

"Who was it?"

When he turned to you, the tick in his jaw dispersed. All of a sudden, he's smiling at you with mischief twinkling in his eyes, the change giving you a whiplash.

"It was the others, didn’t answer their calls cause I want you for myself tonight, noona."

(Later on, you'd find yourself staring at the many unread messages and two missed calls from Guwon, wondering in your drunken state if you've muted your phone at some point earlier.)

Hearing it from his lips now, your body locks, heart stuttering in your chest and butterflies exploding in your stomach, spreading a tingly feeling throughout your body and you laugh. 

"Where did you hear that line from, brat? You just activated my fight or flight!"

"Taehyung says that and gets thanked but when I do it, I'm punished?" He pouts, stomping as he approaches the island counters and crossing his arms on the marble surface.

It reminded you of a bunny you saw from a video on the internet, angrily thumping their feet at their owner when it was being purposely ignored.

“In his defense, he does it while he’s acting like my crazy ‘exes’ and saves me from dates.”

“That’s just favoritism! I saved you once from a date!”

You threw him a deadpan stare. "Throwing me over your shoulders and kidnapping me isn’t the same as Tae and Jimin acting crazy enough to make the other guy uncomfortable to save me.”

Hoseok had your favorite troublemakers kneeled on the floor with both their hands up and facing the wall at the time, punishing them for being an hour late to their practice. He had called you in, asking if they had been accompanying you during —they weren’t. 

Long story short, you didn't risk sharing Hoseok’s wrath with the two and took Jungkook instead, a decision you quickly regretted later on in the night when instead of approaching to act like one of your exes when you gave him a signal, he hoisted you up onto his shoulder and ran away while your date only watched in terror.

“Now that’s blatant favoritism! I didn’t kidnap you, we ran away together into the sunset! It was romantic!"

"Not for the other guy, no! He was shitting bricks when he called my mom. She got me squatting the entire afternoon when we met again."

Mentioning it alone made phantom pains throb in your knees and thighs, you shivered. If torture wasn't a socially unacceptable and punishable offense in the modern world, you were sure your mother would have stripped you down to your underwear and made you squat under the sun in front of your family house instead. 

The absolute fury she unleashed on you that day is enough proof that she would've done it with no hesitation if it was lawfully appropriate.

"That's too much for a failed date."

"No reason to dwell on it. Main point is, don't take notes from dramas anymore."

With a last roll of his eye, Jungkook then picked up the bowls and brought them to the coffee table following you who had returned to your seat ahead of him. Once the two of you are situated back on the couch, he navigates through the streaming app for an interesting title before eventually settling on the romance anime he claimed to have heard amazing reviews about.

Without hesitation, Jungkook navigates himself into a familiar between your legs and leaned back on your chest, head finding his rightful space under your chin with a precision gained from doing so for years.

It goes without saying that Bangtan is affectionate. With the pressure they had during their rise to fame, it wasn't shocking that they comfortably seeked each other's comfort and spared no skinship. As one of the only staff within constant exposure that's close to their age, you too became one of their pillars of serenity. 

It was the reason you had crushes on everyone at least twice during your time as their make-up artist, not that any of the boys knew nor does it matter.

Stability and work takes precedence over something as shaky as love.

There's only so much comfort another man can offer, your mother says from years before.

Jungkook more than anyone else in the group. 

As a boy who sacrificed his childhood and time with his parents to pursue his dream, you felt more inclined to watch over him than the others who were adults by the time you joined. You were there for his first heartbreak, his first drink, his high school graduation; the point is, you were there and you held him every time he struggled with problems—mostly girl problems—he's too shy to seek his hyungs for.

But now with his growth spurt, cuddling up to you like he used to when he was younger with his gangly legs awkwardly hanging from the couch, carelessly leaning his head in between the mounds of your breast while his large hand mindlessly drew circles on your knee, you found yourself wondering about the appropriateness of it all.

A man and a woman alone in a room at night in close proximity, body leaning against each other. Society would argue they wouldn’t end the night as friends anymore after the encounter.

You paused mid-drink and grimaced.

It must be the beer talking.

"Noona."

"Yeah?"

"Wrap your arms around me, it's cold."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "It's not though? I always keep my house warm." 

He let out an exasperated groan before reaching behind to grab your arm and roughly slinging it on his shoulders.

As time continued its cycle and episodes started to fly across the screen, the pile of opened beer cans on the table expanded. You really tried to focus on the movie but the feeling of his fingers tracing stars on your bare thigh left you oddly bothered. Jungkook has shifted his position higher at some point during the movie, his body now turned sideways, successfully squeezing himself into the small space between you and the back of the couch, legs entangling itself with yours while an arm is thrown across your body.

This position puts his nose closer to your ears and it makes you shiver. The feel of his hot breath fanning across your skin has given you more goosebumps in under an hour more than you've had throughout your life.

Even drunk, you could feel the building tension thickening around you and the will to tell him to off ebbs away with every caress of his fingers.

Gone were the innocent traces of stars and hearts on your thigh, his hand now grabbed onto your waist almost possessively, thumb rolling slow circles on your bare stomach; the motion conjuring the most unholiest of thoughts known to mankind.

When the credits started rolling, you knew you had to draw the line before you lost yourself to intoxicated thoughts and end the night with regrets.

"Time for you to go home now, your hyungs must be looking for you."

You tried prying his hand from your waist so you could reach for your phone on the table only for him to tighten around you, stopping you from moving away. He groaned, head nuzzling closer into your neck and his lips grazed your skin. 

Instantly, electric jolts shoot through your body.

"Jungkook, I need to get my phone and tell someone to fetch you from here."

"Can't I just stay the night? I'm too comfortable right now…"

The gruff in his voice and the sensation of his lips moving on your skin has your stomach fluttering and you're too drunk to address the growing heat in your abdomen but thanked the sense of professionalism seeping through the fogs of your intoxicated mind.

Managing to pry him off, you reached for your phone and opened up SMS to tell Jin to pick their youngest up.

           [01:21] You: Jwannn

           [01:21] You: can you pick up your kid from my house? He's drunk and stinkyyy

           [01:23] Jinnie: your knight in shining armor is on the way!

“Just let me stay the nighttt,” he whined into your skin.

"I don't have any more spare beds other than this couch for you to sleep in, Gguk. I turned the other room into a closet, remember?"

"I can just sleep with you on the bed, we used to do that, didn't we?"

He attempted to reach around you again but you pushed his limbs away once more before slapping his arm.

You tried not noticing how thicker and harder the muscles felt, you really did. 

"But it's different now, Gguk. Come on, go wash up and drink water, I've already told someo—"

The moment you rose to stand, his arms shot around your waist in record speed and pulled you flush to his front, nuzzling his nose on the back of your neck before he sighed. When the first hot exhale hits your skin, you flinch away but the limbs wounded tightly around your middle restrict you from moving.

You try to ignore the heat simmering under your skin but it was hard when you felt the press of his plush lips on your nape as he leans closer into your skin. 

“You always smell so nice, noona.” He whispered breathily, the sensation of his moving mouth sending shivers down your spine and you shivered.

“I-I can give you my lotion brand later, let me go so I can get it.”

“But I'm comfortable here…”

Mustering every strength left in your body, you manage to pull an arm out of the death grip he had on your body and slapped his hand. Jungkook easily ignores it.

“Come on Gguk, let me out now. This isn't appropriate.”

"How is it different now?"

The alcohol intoxicating your system loosened your grip on your inhibitions and your lips regrettably moved faster than your brain.

"You're a man now, Gguk. Honestly, we shouldn't be even doing this right now. It's inappropriate."

You try to stand once more, managing to pry him from your waist and standing up before his arms hooked around you once more and tugging you back down, this time on his lap as he burrows his head onto your back.

"Gguk?"

"Yo-you see me as a man, noona?"

As a child your mother has taught you how words could heavily influence and drastically change a situation, now as an adult, you've mastered the art of speech. But as you sit still on his thighs, body warm and inhibitions blurred by the alcohol, your loose lips have led you back to the very thing you try to avoid.

"It's hard not to think so when you've grown up this much."

In a flash, Jungkook is now hovering over your face as he places you back down on the couch, his nose a hair's width from touching yours and his hands planted on each side of your head. 

There's a feral hunger swimming in his eyes as it stared into yours, desperate and intense before it fell to the plush of your parted lips and his gaze darkens. All of a sudden, you're a prey pinned down by an apex predator who's ready to devour you at any given moment.

Fire alarms blared in your mind and you regained control over your senses.

“Jungkook.”

"Noona."

You tried wriggling out of his grasp but it was no use, he's stronger. "Get off of me, kid."

“How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not a kid anymore?”

“I'm not hearing anything out when you're acting like this, Gguk.”

He scoffed. “I just want to sleep here, in the same bed, nothing else is gonna happen. Why is it such a bad thing?”

“It's different now, Gguk. Come on, let me go.”

“How is it so different? You and Jimin hyung cuddle sometimes, I've seen you fall asleep next to Hobi hyung once, why is it different with me?”

“It's different because we're both drunk and things could happen.”

“I wouldn't mind it.” Jungkook responds with a cheeky smile. His grip on one of your wrist loosened enough that you were able to hit his arm and he giggled in response.

“But I do. It wouldn't be fair.”

Even something as small as letting one member stay at your home without the others can be the loudest announcement for the rest of the group. All those times you've rejected your friends, with reasons like ‘I don’t want to risk everything’, and ‘I don't want to hurt the others’, to turn back around to accept their youngest would be hypocritical of you.

He scoffs. "You tell us about all your stupid dates, don't you think it's more unfair for us?”

A familiar weight grows in your chest. Guilt tasted like rust on your tongue and dug into your heart with a ribbed knife. Your own late night thoughts manifesting before you and you pushed him away.

After everything, you were all friends, you trusted them more than you do with your other circle. There's not a secret left undiscussed between the eight of you so it was no surprise that you had indulged them with the details of your quest for a husband. Nobody ever raised any complaints with you sharing your days so you never thought twice about it.

It's been five years since Jin had confessed, three for Taehyung. Their eldest had confessed for the sake of him finally being able to move on after your rejection and with how he acted after, you had believed him. It was different for Taehyung who had continued to act like normal after his confession, neither dejected nor did he show signs of letting go but he did introduce a date to your group once, a year later, so you had assumed the same.

Were you wrong after all?

“Jungkook, we're drunk. Let’s talk about this tom—”

“I've never been more sober in my life than I am right now, noona.”

You didn't respond, couldn't reply.

What were you supposed to even say?

Jungkook usually obeyed you and his hyungs without hesitation, happily offering his aid whenever he could. He's the type of friend who's run himself dry just to fetch you a cup of water from the other side of the world but now as he hovers over you, he became a whole new person.

Greed has always been an irritating parasite that eats away at a person's morals but somehow in your drunken mind, you thought it looked so good on him. It fits him and his generous character the way one light clothing molds well with the dark fabrics. His familiar scent of vanilla and coconut clouded your senses, calming your panicking mind into a hush, leaving nothing but the thoughts of how his lips tasted and wondering if he’s as sweet as he smelled.

He let out a shaky exhale from through his mouth as he watched your parted lips with a rapt attention as if hypnotized by the way they subtly trembled with every breath that passed through.

In the pregnant silence of your room, his voice cuts through like a knife.

“Can I kiss you?”

He whispers against your lips, voice breaking in the middle from the weight of his request, honeyed and pleading, as if your kiss holds the answer to the problems of the world and holds the power to break him.

His hand travels up to cup your cheek oh so carefully like you're fragile china yet you feel yourself shatter under his touch.

You are losing grasp on your sober thoughts as lust starts to cloud your already compromised judgment, his request far too tempting to ignore.

Maybe a kiss wouldn’t hurt. 

But wouldn’t it be unfair for the others who have expressed their romantic intentions to you since years ago? 

It was a last ditch effort to reason with your mind and your body froze from the cold wave of realization. In the short time after his question, you recall the confessions you turned down to not ruin the relationship Bangtan has established for themselves and the bitter taste it left on your tongue.

“Jungkook… we can’t.”

Watching his expression contort into confused hurt almost made you want to take your words back, but your mind takes you to memories of apologetic and understanding smiles you’ve received throughout the years and the aches from those moments resurfaces, squeezing your heart in a tight grip.

“I-I’m sorry I can’t control my feelings, I just wanted to tell you about it… Thought that maybe after this, I could move on.” An apologetic voice whispers, the memory of premature confessions in the middle of a cleanup resurfacing.

“I can’t—I can’t do it to them, it’d be unfair.”

You pushed him back and he relented, letting himself be sat back onto the other side of the couch defeatedly. Despite it, his tight grip on your waist remained, pulling you flush to him and burying his face in your chest as if trying to hear the lie in your words through the beatings of your heart.

“I’m also seeing Guwon now.”

“Then don’t let me meet him. I-I don’t know if I can take it.”

It was heart wrenching and at the same time, left an uncomfortable twist in your stomach. Jungkook never had to beg since you first met him, everything he could ever want was given to him by you and his hyungs without hesitation. Hearing him plead for you to never bring Guwon around if fate had actually paired you both, it was a different kind of pain.

It felt like thorns growing and rooting its stems of pointy ends into the deepest parts of your heart. You hated this, but you don’t want to hurt any of your boys by accepting one.

Relief comes in the form of Taehyung when he busted into your apartment while Jungkook has excused himself to your bathroom to sober up just a moment before. Seokjin trails behind him, calmer than the younger man who declared his arrival with a deep voice and a loud bang of the door. You immediately thought of the elderly couple and the new family of three living next to you and internally facepalmed.

“Noona! We’ve come to take Jungkook away!”

Kim Seokjin’s face has never been more handsome when he closed the door behind him, and you verbalized your thought, leading his ears to glow red in embarrassment.

“Am I only handsome to you when I’m closing the doors?! This face that people fawn over all over the world?!”

“It’s your true calling, door guy.”

“Oh shut it hyung, you’re making my head hurt.” Jungkook mutters as he reentered the living room, looking far better than when he left.

The tension was palpable, the effect of a rejected profession still raw and thick in the small joined space of the living room and kitchen and you caught Jin's eyes as the two youngest bickered, there’s a knowing look passed between you, an unsaid ‘let’s talk later’ hanging in the air.

“Hey, just because you got to escape Hoba’s practice without scratch doesn't mean you're hot shit, show me some respect!”

Seokjin scolds, accompanied by a playful kick to their youngest’s butt. Immediately the stuffy air dissipates and Jungkook responds in kind; by kicking him in the shin, hard enough to launch Seokjin into another lengthy nag.

It was a quick retrieval after his rant. Jungkook lets himself be towed out of your apartment by an oddly enthusiastic Taehyung who's going on about a new game trailer he saw online while Jin has offered to be left behind to clean up the mess. It was no doubt obvious, the familiar awkwardness and tenseness brought by a rejected confession lingered in the air when they arrived, it only took him one look at you and he already knew. 

The moment the door slams shut behind the boys, he immediately began:

“Did he admit it?”

His voice was soft yet it rang loudly in the pindrop silence of your living room. The sigh he let out echoed more when you nodded.

“I told him to not do it, you know? But you know how stubborn he gets.”

You didn’t reply. You simply move, walking to the trash bin to put the empty beer cans in and Jin follows close with the bowls stacked on top of each other to place in the sink. It was a brief moment of reprieve. He let the moment from earlier simmer in your stomach, let the smoke from it fill your lungs and weigh your heart till you burst.

Out of the seven boys, you've always turned to either him or Yoongi as they're older than you, so it came to nobody's shock when you break and told him.

“It just never gets better, I always feel guilty even if I didn’t choose. I’m just lucky I didn’t have to suffer through seven of these, I don’t think I could take it and just quit.”

It was a thought you’ve entertained when Taehyung came to you with his heart in his hand, giving it to you carelessly despite knowing how you’ve handled the other confessions. He was all dopey smiles and flushed cheeks, it continued even when you’ve pushed his heart back to him with an apologetic look.

Seeing the happy creases in his eyes iron out despite the huge boxy smile continuing to play on his lips, the existing pressuring guilt reawakened. Taehyung’s heart that gleamed and glowed gold, vulnerable for you to take and use from where it settled in the middle of his offering palms. You could’ve taken advantage of it all as they were rising in fame, when they were facing discrimination from the other companies and had found comfort in you but you didn’t.

Even with the attraction you've felt for them, you were nothing but a makeup artist to the company. Another asset to deploy and replace if it got annoying to handle. You couldn't risk your career on uncertainties, this is your dream job.

You loved them all equally and held them in the same regards as the others, they’re your best friends, chosen soul companions even without the marks to solidify it. 

They loved you and you loved them all but you wouldn't bet your life on an uncertain future.

“You should give us more credit, you know?” 

He says from the kitchen sink, the sound of water slowing into a halt. Seokjin didn’t move for a while. When he did, it was to place down the plates, washing his hands before turning around to face you.

“We’re grown adults now, we can handle rejection so don’t feel too bad about it. You can choose and we’d even help you keep it a secret from everyone besides us eight.”

It was genuine. Even in the haze of your intoxication, those words felt like a cool balm for your aching heart. While Namjoon’s words were cited research, formal and factual and Yoongi’s were calming droughts to ease the discomfort of sadness brought by gloomy thoughts, Seokjin speaks from the heart, true and unbiased but says it with a gentleness and care. 

Guilt sets like a boulder on your heart. Being able to feel, to experience such a privilege when all you've done is break his heart since your hunt for a husband, the weight in your chest multiplied and tears sprung from your eyes.

You wanted them but you couldn't risk your dream job, couldn't risk a friendship as precious as theirs for kisses and hugs that eventually has its ends.

You didn’t even notice it when he crossed the distance between you both and pulled you plush to his chest but you recognized the familiar sensation of plush lips pressing against your forehead.

If it lingered a few seconds past what's platonically allowed, you didn’t mention it.

Seokjin’s muted scent of freshly baked cakes brought silence to the rampaging waves of thoughts in your mind and if you pressed your nose flush to his chest to bury yourself in his fragrance, he didn’t say anything, bringing one hand behind your head protectively.

“I'm sorry to put you through this pain, Jinnie. I-I didn’t know.”

“I knew you didn’t know but I'll be fine... eventually.” He breathes out before leaning down to bury himself into the nest of your hair. "As long as you're happy, then I am too."

It was heavy, being loved and held so preciously even after you’ve turned him down, it felt cruel, sadistic even. But like the selfish woman you are, you accepted it. Soaked in his affections greedily.

“You know, he asked me to never show Guwon around you guys.”

He sighed. “I knew he would.”

“Do you want that as well?

Silence followed but you heard his answer loud and clear.

The second date happened after the first leg of the tour in Seoul.

Although planned suddenly, you appreciated the downtime after being lost in the haze of rushed outfit changes, reapplying makeup, and patting sweat from foreheads. If anything, you were thankful you could loosen up after earlier. The awkward tension didn’t go amiss, it only took Namjoon and Yoongi one look between you and Jungkook before taking charge on how the night progresses.

Yoongi didn't waste any time waving you over to ask for help for his makeup, even when he was already being prepped by one of your older colleagues, Ji hae. Thankfully, the woman lets you take over, saying she wanted a snack anyways.

The man didn't bother asking you what happened and settled comfortably in his chair but not before offering you the snack he bought earlier and was laying neglected on his lap. Yoongi asked about Guwon in a hushed voice, because while you were living in a reverse harem with most of his brothers, he was genuinely curious about your boyfriend-to-be.

Maybe it was the fact he has never admitted his affections for you that made it comfortable to discuss topics you could never talk about with the others with him, but you let your tongue a little loose.

And he listened.

Yoongi has always been a man of action not words, his love language has always been opening water bottles, blankets appearing from nowhere when you're passed out on their couch, and listening attentively. Despite what the world says about his nonchalance and silence, in your eyes, he's the sweetest guy on the roster—not that you'd tell Jimin that of course, he'd riot if he were to find out.

By the end of the concert, Guwon asks you on an impromptu date. A simple late night walk on a market nearby because there's apparently a food fair, and as usual, the expenses are on him. Hungry with a principle of never turning down free food, of course you accepted. 

Though you had a long time deciding whether to go or not with Jungkook’s confession still fresh.

Minutes later, he's waiting for you by the exit. The scene of him leaning on his Mercedes, waiting for you to reach him at the bottom of the stairs looks like it was pulled out of a kdrama.

Oddly enough, they didn’t question your lack of updates in the group chat but Jimin reached out later on and you suspect he told everyone your whereabouts instead, hopefully minus the date part to spare the others (read: Jungkook) from heartbreak.

The fair looked like a mirage of a paradise in the night hidden away in a small gently-lit up alley. The path was lightened up with gentle lanterns hung above you, the warm colors setting a more intimate scene. It wasn’t as luxurious as dinner from yesterday or as calming as the bike ride around the Han river but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You’re ready to drop dead but you pushed through, you wanted this relationship to work. Because then, maybe the monsters—your mother and her wide selection of personalities as well as aunties, her friends, trying to refer you to their horrible sons—haunting you from under your bed will finally leave you alone.

It was cruel that you’re using someone else to erase the memory of being professed to by one of your best friends.

Guwon was happy enough to take charge the whole date, leading you from food stall after food stall, ordering whatever your eyes lingered at which is half of what the fair offers. He understands your lack of responses as it is, tired from work, and talked enough for the both of you. Which you are grateful for.

He talked about his job and what happened that day, willingly telling you about the story of how he and his co-workers clicked back in College, never to part till now in the field they wanted. He spoke of his dreams, how he envisioned his dream home by the province surrounded by nature and the cat named Nabi waiting for him at home.

There's nothing more blatant of a signal than the last part, whether you accept it or not depends on you.

Normally, you would've frowned at the thought, immediately thinking of running away but as the night deepens and stalls start to close, the idea grows more and more tempting despite the logical voice in your head disagreeing. Seeking a distraction and possibly leading on a kind man is cruel, both to him and you.

But at the end of the day, it’s just an escape from the reality you're stuck in, a temporary answer to a long time problem. 

How harmful can it be? 

People had hookups before, you’ve had hookups before your mother has started a hunt for your husband this year so what are you so reluctant for? 

If this man is to be your husband, you should check your physical compatibility right?

You shivered. God, you sounded like one of those shitty guys you’ve dated before.

"Hey, the stalls just closed. Are you fine with me driving you back to your house?"

His voice cuts through your deep thoughts and you turn to him. Even in the dimly lit corner of the alley, Guwon looked attractive as ever with his dimpled smile and laid back attitude, his soft eyes gleaming under the lanterns, affections overflowing from his gaze and you. shuddered from its weight. 

Staring at the man, you wondered if you'd ever fall in love with him as he seemed right now.

Soon enough, you both arrive in front of your apartment building. However, not every plan goes through as you thought it'd go and you find two familiar figures rushing down to meet you. 

Taehyung didn't hesitate to run up to you with open arms and a wide smile. He didn't even care that you both almost toppled over if it wasn't for Guwon hand supporting you from the back.

"Wh-why are you two here? Shouldn't you guys be resting?"

Jimin shrugged but you caught the mischievous glint in his eyes as a small smile tugs his lips. "Hyung got so worried and wanted us to make sure you got home safely."

"Even a thumbs up would be great but you ignored every text and call! Jin hyung panicked and sent us out, if you didn't come home, he would've had a huge manhunt for you." Taehyung chimed in, pulling away but keeping his hands on your shoulders as he stared deep into your eyes, as if trying to hypnotize you into believing them.

Jimin snickered. “Yoongi hyung was an hour away from declaring you missing so the good dongsaengs we are, we decided to camp outside your apartment.”

You would've accepted his explanation, it was logically sound yet the dark glint of mischief and something else in his eyes as his gaze bounced from you to Guwon told you a different story.

They've always had to interrupt your dates when it becomes sour but this was the first time they've confronted a potential partner outside the intentions of ruining a date because you wanted it to suck.

This was them laying their claim over their own, a silent statement. A declaration you try not to think so much about, fearing you'd dig yourself deep and fall to your death.

“These must be one of your kids?” Guwon asks from behind, reminding you of his presence and you turn to him with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, Taehyung and Jimin. I practically raised them.”

Jimin scoffs and your head snapped to him, widening your eyes in warning to which he ignored. “Just because you’re a year older, doesn’t mean you could say you raised us you know?”

“See what I deal with everyday?” 

Guwon laughs lightheartedly before patting your head to get your attention. “Since your kids are here to protect you, I should get going now.”

“Drive safely.”

“See you soon?”

“Definitely.”

Then he placed a haste kiss on the edge of your lips, catching you off guard and you froze. Guwon was already in his car by the time you realized what happened and turned to chastise him. You couldn't even knock on the passenger window when the arms coiled around your shoulders tightened and tugged you close.

Letting Guwon kiss you in front of one of the men who confessed to you once was the first mistake, second was looking up at Taehyung whose hug is starting to hurt.

Gone were the usual giddiness and child-like enthusiasm that would pour from his eyes. It was replaced by a colder glare, almost blank and emotionless as it narrowed behind you and jaw locked tight. There was something primal in the way his hand behind your head was pushing you closer to him as if he was hounding over his game from another predator.

Goosebumps prickled your skin awake.

If butterflies exploded in your stomach and ignited a molten heat in your abdomen at that very moment, it's a secret you’d take to your grave.

“Tae?”

“Noona, I think we should head inside. It's getting cold.” Jimin’s sweet voice sounded forced and you resisted the urge to look at him.

While their reaction to being challenged is obvious, you couldn't, for the life of you, figure out why he should feel like that when he’s been seeing other people since his confession. From your past dates where he attended as one of your escape plans, he’s  never expressed such an intense show of displeasure so you thought his fleeting crush had passed.

Until tonight.

When Taehyung pulled away, the traces of his hostility were gone and you had to double take at how vastly different he's appearing now. He has his lower lip pushed out into a pout, eyes wide with mirth as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, his warm palms heating your cold-nipped skin.

“Aigoo, you're so cold noona. Let's go in and binge that foreign show you've been following.”

With hands now intertwined, he leads you inside the building where Jimin was already standing inside and was holding the door open for you both. You were being tugged into your own home yet you couldn’t help but feel tense as Taehyung and Jimin welcomed you back in with the same dark look you saw earlier.

[thel0v3hashira143]

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐄! ❞

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ yuuji megumi gojo nanami n choso ☆ how jjk men act when they have a crush on you!

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ fem!reader, black coded but anyone can read

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: ahhh the comeback post!! let's just say my old works were...less than coherent. but im here and ready to slay the day after 2-ish years!! take these crumbs while i try and find my footing again. stay hot lovies 🎀🎀

yuuji itadori 🌸

my babyyy (sob sob) yuuji would def try to impress you with his athleticism, bc girls like that stuff right? (gojo told him that...save him)

he frequently challenges you to friendly competitions when sparring to showing off his skills.

he def let's you get quite a few hits on him and he may even let you win from time to time (seeing your smile makes getting knocked on his ass worth it)

he might act a bit bashful, but he's straightforward. he knows he has a crush on you so why would he hide it?

expect nice gestures like him wanting to carry things for you, buying you food, watching all your fav movies, ect.

speaking of which, movie hangouts!!!

every friday usually you, megumi, nobara, and yuuji all get together and watch a movie

buuuttt if he's feeling especially brave he'll invite you to his dorm to watch the newest movie in your favorite series! (yes, he keeps track of when they come out)

he loves that it becomes y'alls thing and he loves it even more when you lay your head on his shoulder and doze off <;33

he also gives hella compliments cause something in my gut says his love language is words of affirmation.

anticipate many "isn't [name] just the coolest?" or "you look great today [name]!"

im telling you he could never run out of nice things to say to you, whether it be about your looks or personality

as soon as he realizes he likes you he takes down those pin up girl posters in his dorm

he also obviously thinks you're more beautiful than jennifer lawrence argue wit ur mama

he is also obviously a personality over looks guy so dont act surprised if you see him looking at you with a lovesick grin if he catches you doing something kind for someone

expect him to confess his feelings sooner rather than later

"yeah, why wouldn't i have a crush on [name]? shes beautiful and badass! but don't tell her, okay?"

megumi fushiguro 🌸

megumi, unlike yuuji is quite reserved, even with his friends

honestly gives no indication that he likes you at all 💀💀 he stares at you pretty intensely at first (to admire your beauty) but quickly catches on that you think its weird..

once you two get closer though, megumi would frequently express his crush through small gestures

he strikes me as a reader so i can see him recommending his favorite books to you or even lending you some of his.

you two exchange books often and he highlights quotes that remind him of you

i can also see book shop hangouts where you two sit and read together in some small bookshop he found in the city.

(he's just admiring you read)

he's not a huge compliment/affirmation guy but quality time is a big one for him

whether it be on missions, sparring, or out with the rest of the first year's, he enjoys any time he can have with you.

megumi is also very protective but like...subtly

he secretly watches out for you during missions, making sure you're safe without drawing attention to it

he'll insist you two split up but send one of his divine dogs to accompany you to wherever you go.

even when you're out and about in tokyo he always likes to stay close to you. he follows you around (not in a creepy way more like a lost puppy way)

follows you into stores you like even if he has absolutely no interest.

all in all he's just a shy guy who's whipped for you <3

"i enjoy spending time with you. a lot."

teen!satoru gojo 🌸

gojo...you bastard...(affectionate)

erm ngl i can def see him being a bully to you at first...

not like a bully bully but he def teases you a lot and it gets under your skin sometimes. (you hate him)

but in reality hes jus a spoiled litte rich boy in love.

once he realizes his feelings he still pokes fun at you sometimes, but tones it down hard and turns on his charm.

gojo's approach is confident and playful. he teases you, always with a charming grin, creating a dynamic that keeps things lighthearted and enjoyable.

he'll find excuses to spend time with you, whether it's offering to train together

unlike yuuji he doesn't care if he likes you this son of a gun will NOT let you win istg

it's like he's trying to rile you up, saying ridiculously cheesy one liners as he dodges all your attacks.

"thats the best you got? oh [name], we'll never get to be together if i keep beating you!"

one thing he does enjoy doing with you however, are snack runs.

gojo is a big back in disguise with too much money to spend so you already knows most of that goes towards food.

he has a huge sweet tooth so i can see you guys browsing multiple sweets shops in the city. if he sees you even look at something for too long he'll buy 10 of them.

every trip you guys both leave with full bellies and full hearts <3

gojo wants to be around you, and he makes sure it's fun for you both

his confession is likely to be straightforward. ccompanied by his trademark smile and his sparkling blue eyes peeking from his shades.

"you know, i've been thinking... i'm kind of into you. what do you say we make things a bit more interesting?"

teen!kento nanami 🌸

my emo boy ❤️‍🩹

nanami, with his composed demeanor, expresses his feelings (though you were unsure if he even had any) through thoughtful actions.

he remembers every. single. detail. of anything you say to him.

your favorite attist dropped an album today? he already bought you the cd/vinyl. you never got a chance to go to the store to get your favorite snack? he went 2 days ago.

he revels in the fact that he knows so much about yousnd the surprised look on your face gets him every time.

(haibara claims he's seen nanami smile at you multiple times but he vehemently denies it.)

despite his serious appearance, he'll occasionally crack dry jokes when it's just the two of you

look at that man and tell me he doesn't have a dry sense of humor 😭😭

you help him to relax and he feels he can truly be himself around you. when you two are alone its like hes showing a different side to his personality.

like megumi, i can see quality time being a big thing for him since attending jujutsu high leaves him quite busy

hes also not a huge talker so whenever you two do spend time together its probably somewhere intimate like your dorm or the library.

no words, just vibes. which he appreciates since he's around a bunch of yipper yappers all day.

nanami's confession is understated but sincere.

"i appreciate the time we spend together. it's made me realize there's something more i feel..."

choso kamo 🌸

my babyyyy no. 2 (i need him biblically)

let's get one thing straight tho. choso is a curse. in my opinion curses have no idea of love in a healthy, positive way so let's just say bb is confused.

he obviously knows what love is. he loves his brothers but he doesnt wanna kiss them...and cuddle them...

he goes to yuuji for advice (was it a bad idea? perhaps.)

"bro you totally have a crush on [name]!"

"a crush?"

after some further investigation hes pretty much got the gist of it.

one thing he becomes quite fond of doing is giving you small gifts from his missions.

these aren't typic gifts persay, like food, clothing or jewelry but more like knickknacks such as shells or rocks.

these tokens become a way for him to express what words might fail to convey.

i headcannon choso likes nature documentaries and after seeing that penguins mate for life by gifting a rock to their mate he's hooked.

idk but i also feel like he's very touchy.

he always has an eye on you in public and ik he does the thing where he guides u with his hand on the small of your back or he locks pinkies with you UGHHHH

with him being protective, he also subtly keeps an eye on you during missions.

he's not one to voice his concern directly but prefers to ensure your safety from the danger.

choso's confession might catch you off guard, but it's filled with honesty and sincerity.

"i've found myself caring about you more than I expected. it's strange..."

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ omg i actually really like this...(watch me hate it in a week) but reqs are open!! i have 1 or 2 more pieces planned to get me in the swing of things but take this before then. love y'all!!

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

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𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

[goldsbitch]

That one Bologna drive

part 2 to That one Christmas flight (strongly recommend reading that one first! made me so happy you guys liked this one, so let's continue!)

summary: They were suppose to not look for each other. So of course they didn't.

warnings: crushing hard, swear words I guess, typos probably

PS: y'all gonna hate me

Lando really wanted to keep his promise not to search for her online. He enjoyed the mystery and the option to keep this little encounter as a nice "why if". Until he didn't.

With the only information he had being her first name and the fact she was a student at Bologna university his private burner account was truly burning up. He must have seen every account of the current Bologna alumni. It was strange being on the other side of these pseudo stalker fan games. There were moments where he deactivated his account, to stop him from doomscrolling. And then there were nights when he did nothing but that.

He was fed up with the emptiness and shallow lifestyle that followed him. His friends were surprised, when he started to carry classical literature books with him. Since he hated those looks, decision to really keep all of this to himself had been made. It felt like a pose sometimes - he did not have to prove anything to anyone, he was fine as he was. But a strange feeling of wanting something more is hard to navigate when the life around you seems dead set in the current ways.

Weeks passed by with his eyes fixed on one moment in particular. The Imola Grand Prix. It felt like a cruel joke when he realized this circuit was a mere hour away from Bologna.

Lando was not sure if he was supposed to be proud or scared when finally found her account. At this point, it was hard to find a better expert on the social life of that university town. But it would be a massive lie, if he said he did not sprint up from his chair when he saw her in one of her friends insta story. Tagged.

He nearly DM'd her about 20 times. But, this was not the way it was supposed to feel. No. It seemed like a way better plan to ride up to Bologna and hang out at what seemed to be her favorite cafe / bar in the centre. If it was meant to be, he would run into her and it could all be called a second lucky accident.

He had an average start of the season. Maybe Imola would bring him luck one way or the other.

//

His plan was to ride up there the evening after his first practice - then the team debrief dragged until late hours. He hit the wall on the second day - his team made sure he went through all and every medical check up, no matter how much he protested. Then there was this and than that and suddenly he realized the only possible evening would be the Sunday one. He requested the latest flight him team would allow.

Finishing fourth felt like a joke, even though it was his best finish this season. Missing the podium by a mere second was a cruel of a metaphor.

Once he managed to run through all his duties, exhausted as truly was, he hit the road.

Within a half an hour, he was in what seemed her most favorite cafe, sitting on a bar stool, ordering a glass of white wine.

She was nowhere to be found. His heart jumped when her friends came in and sat outside, lighting their cigarettes. Lando waited. He had to laugh at himself, pathetic as he was right now. By his luck lately, she was probably in her bedroom sleeping, or worse - on a date with some Italian fuck boy. Going up to her friends and asking was absolutely not an option - he wanted to surprise her, not scare her and creep her out.

He left the bar after one hour for a stroll around. He walked around the lively square filled with young people sitting on the ground and having the time of their life, the one he saw hundreds of times on his screen. Who knew, maybe she'd be around somewhere. Jealousy swept over him, envying those who were fortunate enough to keep her company right now at this very moment. After one hour he was back for a second glass. But this time he heard his name being called loudly immediately as he stepped inside. All of his tired muscles tensed up in disbelief. And to continue with the theme of pure luck - it was an ordinary fan. The surprised guy with a Mercedes t-shirt insisted on a photo and signature. Lando smiled, signed and went back to his car.

He probably needed this closure.

//

Y/N was a person who prided herself on her principles. So when she and the mystery boy from that Christmas flight agreed upon not looking each other up, she kept herself away from doing so. Exam season and university life got in the way, providing a great distraction.

Only when she went on a date with what seemed to be a lovely French physics student, she allowed herself to think back to her encounter with Lando. That's when her internal facade fell apart. She spent the whole date imagining Lando would appear. He'd sit at a different table, right in her view, and then once her date would go on the toilet, they'd run away like little kids would do. They'd sit in a local park and laugh while sharing a bottle of wine. She knew he was somehow famous. He heart crushed at the thought that she was probably overshadowed by girls way prettier than her.

And then, on a random afternoon during a first study session the weather allowed her and her friends to spend outside, in one of the university gardens, one simple conversation she accidentaly overheard from the people sitting nearby, caused her to loose the last chance of keeping the meeting with Lando intact.

"Yeah, Lando Norris. Way hotter than Leclerc, I must say."

"I still don't understand why you love formula 1."

"They just know how to sell the story."

Surely, they were not talking about Lando. "Sure, there must be thousands of well known people called Lando," Y/N replied to her own question.

She took this as a sign, gave up on her principles and went full ballistic on her research. Downforce, penalties, the teams history, qualifying, chequered flag.

Since she was so deep in, keeping her obsession to herself as she had no idea with whom she could possibly share this, she might as well ask her mom for tickets money. The idea that she knew that he was just an hour away and she would miss that was simply not on the table.

Formula 1 race in an event meant for groups of friends to share their passion. So sitting there on the stand alone felt a little bittersweet. She made sure to push down any thoughts about seeing him up close again, let alone talking to him. It was something that half of the people present would try to do. And risking having him look through her, or worse - not remembering her - was not something she wished to live through.

But she cheered for him, she really did. Anytime he passed around her stand she got up, she watched him on the screen during interviews and when it became clear, he would have his best result of the season so far here at Imola, she celebrated with all those around her. Feeling proud that he was doing good. There was an electrifying energy in the air which could not compare to the times she watched races in her room on her laptop. If he had been standing near to her, she knew he would say something to beat himself up for missing a podium. And if she was standing next to him, she would tell him that he is an idiot and should also celebrate.

He looked a bit off during the interviews. Probably the crash few days ago. Y/N stayed sitting there just a bit longer than an average fan would.

Probably to avoid traffic...

part 3

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Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @superlegend216

[dixons-sunshine]

Saw your birthday post and I’m here to say dad!daryl especially during pregnancy would be act like a caveman. You’re growing his child? He’s hunting for a mounting of food (more specifically animals especially deer) and presenting them to you like he’s at an altar. You want something. He’s already got it. Craving something that’s lots to the old world? Don’t worry he’ll do his best and if not he’ll find a suitable replacement. Dad!daryl would do anything for you already, and now you’re with his child… you really get to see how far he’d go.

Let’s not mention if you were ever in a position where he thinks you’d be in danger because he’s animalistic ensuring that you and his baby are okay.

Thank you for listening to my ted talk

Also happy early birthday!!

No because I think about this on a daily basis. You'd think I'm lying but I'm not. The amount of times I think of Daryl as a dad should be illegal lol. My own thoughts under the cut. (Sorry this isn't a proper fic. I didn't know how to write this in a way that would be in a way you deserve, but I loved this so much and didn't want this to go to waste, so I'm doing this. Hope it's okay!)

Basically everything you said is so freaking true. As far as I'm aware, aka on what I've seen in movies and what my mom has told me, the correct meat is an essential part to a pregnant woman's diet. Oh, boy, once you're pregnant and the doctor says that you need protein? You be rest assured that Daryl is not resting until he finds you the best goddamn venison he can. No rabbit or squirrel meat for the love of his life and his unborn baby. Y'all deserve only the best. He'd even fight tooth and nail if he could only find a small deer and there wouldn't be enough venison for everyone in the community and everyone wanted some. You needed it more than they did, and he'd hold someone at gunpoint if he needed to.

I've also wondered a lot about Daryl finding whatever you're craving. A few nights ago, I was really craving chips (fries) but I couldn't go buy any, so I had to make my own. While making it (at 3am if I may add) I thought about Daryl making you what you're craving during your pregnancy. If he can't find what you're craving outside the walls, he's gonna try his damn best to make it. Fries? He's picking potatoes out of the community's garden to make you that. You want a sandwich? He's gonna make you a sandwich. You want some crisps (chips)? He can't make it, but he's not gonna rest until he finds you some. It may be stale, but he doesn't care. Anything for you.

I've seen a couple of videos where the guy stands behind his pregnant partner and raises their belly to relieve some pressure. Daryl would do that! I read it in my favourite dad!Daryl series (Blood Ties by @celtic-crossbow. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it!) and I was like “yes, he would totally do that!” Anything that would help make you even the slightest bit more comfortable, he'd do it. Also, I feel like it would bring a sense of comfort to him when he does that. It'd make him feel more connected with his baby before they're born, y'know?

Don't even get me started on Daryl being extremely overprotective of you. He doesn't want you to be in any sort of danger in general, but the need to keep you safe when you're carrying his baby increases by a tenfold. Your escapades beyond the walls are put on a hold for the foreseeable future. Anything you need beyond the walls, he'll get it for you. And if you don't want him to leave you, he'll get someone else to do it for him. He wouldn't ever let you willingly put yourself in danger, and if you ever were in danger, the people responsible for it would pay dearly.

I have a lot of thoughts on this but my brain isn't working with me right now. Thank you so much for sending this in! I really loved this so much.

[honeytonedhottie]

extra self care routine⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍦

this 8 step self care routine is meant to be super DUPER over the top but its intended more so to make u feel like the goddess that u are and to simply pamper, and spoil urself as u should...plus you'll smell like a cupcake after 🎀

warning, LONG post ahead but thats because i tried to be thorough and clear on the steps of this 8-step routine.✨🧁

STEP ONE ; ICING UR FACE

the benefits of facial icing include more radiant skin, helps with spider lines, and blemish control. if u wanna know more about icing ur face i recommend u read this.

but typically you'll fill up a bowl with some water and ice and dunk ur face in the ice in 60 second intervals (thats how i like to do it) or you take an ice cube and run that on ur skin.

STEP TWO ; OILING UR HAIR

i personally dont recommend oiling ur hair overnight, once u apply ur hair oil into ur hair let it sit for 30 minutes - 4 hours depending on how much time u have on ur hands, but if ur gonna do the 8 step self care ritual i would assume u had some time.

use the scalp massaging tool for blood flow to ur head and MASSAGE. imagine all of ur stress seeping out of ur body. it might sound strange, but when im doing this step i imagine myself rearranging and organizing my thoughts 💀.

while ur doing this whole routine i recommend playing an affirmation tape in the background, or ur favorite playlist. 🧁

STEP THREE ; MASKS

next i'll use a spray bottle and wet my hair before going in with my hair mask, and once thats in ur hair use the claw clip to keep ur hair up and out of ur face.

now its time for the facial mask and i recommend keeping kind of an ARSENAL of masks, whether its a liquid or clay mask or sheet masks just have them on u because i usually do face masks of any sort 1-2 times a week for my LUSTROUS glow.

while u have the hair and face masks in, its a good time to do some dry brushing to remove dead skin cells and improve blood circulation. some other masks that u can do to be EXTRA are lip masks and under eye masks.

STEP FOUR ; IN THE SHOWER

wash ur hair as you would usually do, use the body scrub before using a body wash that has similar tones to the body scrub (this is called scent layering) and while in the shower i recommend to do a shower meditation.

if y'all r interested i'll make a shower meditation guide and u can record ur own voice doing the meditation so u can use it ✨

while ur in the shower make sure to be meticulous and take ur time while u wash ur body. do double cleansing so that u can ensure that you're squeaky clean.

now is also the time to shave if u like to do that and remember use a body scrub BEFORE u shave and once ur out of the shower to use a body oil to prevent ingrowns and to just have a smoother shave in general.

STEP FIVE ; OUT OF THE SHOWER

use ur body oil and ur body lotion, this kind of goes along with the before bed slugging notion which gives the SOFTEST most amazing skin in the morning so i highly recommend it.

HOT TIP FROM HONEY ; using a warmed up towel adds to the whole spa experience so i def recommend that, warming up towels/blankets/robes makes me feel so cozy and toasty 🧋✨

the formula for before bed slugging is (body oil + body lotion + a thick body butter/cream)

STEP SIX ; REPAIR AND REPLENISH

once your out of the shower and you’ve slugged ur body, use a leave in conditioner to repair and soothe damaged hair.

use a face milk

cuticle oil

now’s the time to use pimple patches

and things of that nature in general

this ensures that ur being absolutely meticulous and replenishing ur body the proper way. taking care of ur base so that u can make it absolutely GLOW ✨

STEP SEVEN ; FACIAL MASSAGE

use a gua sha and any other facial massage tools to help blood circulation and just be EXTRA. to sculpt ur face like the goddess you are.

facial massage stimulates blood circulation, promoting oxygen flow and nutrient delivery to the skin cells. facial massage helps to release the tension held in the facial muscles, alleviating stress lines and promoting a more youthful appearance.

AND if ur consistent with facial massage, you'll can enhance skin elasticity AND diminish fine lines.

STEP EIGHT ; YOGA AND STRETCHES

nothing feels better then massaging and stretching stiff limbs, especially if u have pains or aches in ur body. look up a follow along, super light, yoga routine or a stretching routine.

i think that a rly good stretch is the perfect way to end ur super duper over the top 8 step self care routine 💗🎀

[dollfaceirene]

do better or stay bitter

So i'm finally off my blog posting break and i came up with this idea a few days ago so i decided today to finally write it up as a post today.

Imma cut it short and keep it blunt, some of yall do alot more complaining than changing and its like don't yall find it tiring?

Some of yall will come on apps to complain about "not being able to manifest", someone gives you advice or recommends useful posts and yall read over the post and never actually apply it to your own mindset/state and its like, don't yall find it tiring?

It comes to a point where y'all will be aware that you are re-affirming the same assumptions that simply don't benefit you and keep reinforcing the fact you are in a state of lack rather than actually taking time to reflect and affirm & make assumptions that are actually beneficial to what you want.

☆ lemme give an analogy,

We have Samantha and we have Jessica. Both Jessica and Samantha found out about the law of assumption around the same time and have recently finished their uni degrees.

Both Samantha and Jessica are currently applying to work at their dream jobs. Samantha, working at a bank and Jessica, working as a pharmacist.

Currently, both Samantha and Jessica haven't been having much success with looking for jobs as they either don't get any interviews or just don't get any callbacks.

This put Samantha and Jessica into a spiral of them affirming stuff of lack, e.g. "i will never be able to find a job" and since its their dominant assumptions, they are constantly shown in the 3D that they find it hard to get a job.

One day, Jessica was scrolling through her phone and saw a loa youtube video from a youtuber she subscribed to awhile back. She decides to watch this video and it gives a simplified summary of what the law of assumption is & how to apply it. She decides to keep affirming that she has her desired job no matter what was shown in the 3D. If she saw she didn't get any callbacks, she would keep affirming that she did have her desired job and that she was in control of her reality. Awhile later, she gets an interview to work at a private pharmacy and ends up landing the job there.

Meanwhile Samantha starts to overconsume alot of law of assumption posts, success stories, etc and never wants to apply the information. She always feels insanely jealous of people who have manifested desired things. She one days decides to do a mental diet however, instead of being disciplined with her thoughts & flipping any thoughts that didn't benefit her, only a few hours into the mental diet, she "quits" saying its too hard and that the law of assumption never works for her, even though it is universal & can be used to manifest anything.

the main point i want yall to get is that,

i) anyone is capable of changing their dominant assumptions

ii) only you can change your reality

iii) the law of assumption is neutral

Yall need to stop sitting on the sidelines while reading other success stories wishing it was you, newflash, it can and will be you once you've decided you have that in your reality.

Do better. Start that mental diet, listen to your affirmation tapes, do whatever helps you feel fulfilled or whatever. Stop going back to old story once you see something unfavourable in your 3D. Stop moping around how you "wish the loa will work for you" when it does! it works for everyone, you are no exception.

Be the Jessica of your reality. Be the one who identifies & decides that they have their desire no matter what instead of being the one who allows themselves to be the victim of their reality (which they can easily change) *cough, cough* Samantha.

Words of comfort: i just want to close off this post by saying i know alot of the time, circumstances can be so overwhelming that its so hard to affirm against it and can just be so frustrating at times. I hope you find peacr & comfort in your reality and wishing you all the best <3 rooting for yall, you can do this :)

stay limitless, xoxo irene

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Pick a Card: Message from your Spirit Team

I love connecting with everyone's guides! Thank you to the collective and their spirit guides for your support in this reading. I love you! The universe loves you! and your guides love you!!! <3 Take what resonates and leave the rest behind but always be open to new perceptions.

Decks used are: Alchemy Oracles, Archetype Oracle, Necronomicon Tarot

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PILE ONE

Astrology: Virgo, Gemini, Scorpio

Song: Shooting Star by Owl City

Vibes: Black, white, green, blue, thunder, rain, prophetic dreams, illusion, secrets, finders-keepers, forests, 9999, corsets, darkness, frozen fruit, con artist, narcissistic, Hera

Cards: 6 of Swords, Eros, Destroyer, Quicksilver

My friend, you have bitten off more than you can chew while standing upon a really unsteady foundation. It will crumble eventually. It isn't a matter of "if". It will happen. It is a matter of "when". You can't go on like this. You can't play both sides. You are going to lose people who you dearly love if you keep it up. Your intentions are pure I know. You don't want to rock the boat. You don't want to make the wrong decision. The actions you took were driven by a good heart but you are stretching that good heart too thin to be able to continue like this. What you are doing was supposed to be temporary but you are treating it as if it is sustainable and permanent. Luckily, there is an escape from the desolation you could face. You must be honest about how you feel to yourself. You must be true. You can't just follow anymore to make everyone happy. Decide for yourself because there is no staying out of it anymore. If it takes you time to decide that's alright. If you need time to do research on whatever decision this is that is fine. Take your time deciding. But you MUST decide and if you don't decide then it will be decided for you.

This feels like a different decisions for different people reading this. I can see it might be about a situation-ship or familial/friend drama. It could be political as well. Either way you have spent most of your time in this situation sitting on the side lines and not making any moves. You believe if you ignore whatever is happening it will solve itself. It won't. I'm sorry. You are being tested and being indecisive is the only way you can fail. Not deciding will have the most cons and very little pros. I can definitely tell why it has taken you a bit to think about. Either decision you make there will be pros and cons to whatever it is you decide. You think you can escape the cons by not addressing it at all. However, being complacent is a decision, my dude. Not deciding is still a decision to do nothing.

When you do decide, you must stand firm on your decision. You MUST. Don't be wishy washy about it and change your mind once you have chosen. Even if you have regrets you MUST stand firm. Your guides will reward you after with many gifts of love. I also see gifts of knowledge. Later down the line you will see why you had to make the choice. You will be enlightened on what would have happened if you chose the other route. I can hear you sighing in relief when you learn this and not regretting your path. I wish you luck, my dear.

_____________

PILE TWO

Astrology: Sagittarius, Leo, Capricorn

Song: Gold on the Ceiling by The Black Keys

Vibes: Yellow, pink, red, crows, bats, crowbars, dirt, grave yards, 333, courtesan, aging, mushrooms, pine needles, sewing, weaving, looms, large dogs, Persephone, Hades

Cards: The Sun, The Poet, The Lover, Smoke

My dear, why are you so mean to yourself for attempting to be happy? What is the logical purpose of that? Listen, I get it. You have been through so messy messy stuff. It fucked up your head and it corrupted the way you think and talk about yourself. But seriously, can you think of any reason besides "it feels familiar to hurt which means it's safe." Dude. For real, stop being so mean to yourself. It doesn't get work done faster. It doesn't help you when you aren't working and you are trying to rest. It isn't doing you any good to put yourself down for what you enjoy. It just makes life harder than it already is. It doesn't have to be that hard. It SHOULDN'T be that hard. I know what you say to yourself, dude. You mimic those who have criticized you in the past. You are parroting the pain they caused you and repeating the cycles of abuse you faced. The people who hurt you before were looking in mirrors. They weren't truly looking at you. Their opinions of you don't resemble reality. They just wanted to bully someone besides themselves to feel better about themselves.

The insults you are repeating aren't how you truly feel. You are a so much more than a victim. First of all, you are an important person. Second, you are an artist. A very good artist, I might add. You can capture the emotion you are feeling perfectly when you create. When you write, you communicate what you wish to say so clearly that it touches the hearts of even the most emotionless people. That is power. That is magic. I am not going to say you are talented, my dear. Because I know your skill came from years of practice. Years of love drenched artwork and thoughtful choosing of words. You are more than talent, my dear. You are driven. You are intelligent. Any road block you faced you gracefully jumped over or powered through. Do not be mean to yourself. Do not. You deserve more recognition than that. Only you can do what you do. You are inimitable.

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PILE THREE

Astrology: Aries, Libra, Aquarius

Song: Charmer by Aimee Mann

Vibes: Rainbows, candles, moths, reading, pearl, gold bars, ripped clothes, 555, 88, garden, ghost trees, vampires, higher self, lions mane, alternative beliefs, collecting, coffee, Athena, Artemis, Apollo

Cards: 4 of Swords, The Self, The Cave, Mystical Sisters

I am so proud of you. You have locked away who you are for a long time. You recently started to do some self discovery after you left a person who wasn't good for you behind. I don't think you understand what a huge step you've made. I don't think you really see how what you have done is a huge fucking deal. You stood up for yourself. I think you really water down this accomplishment because you had an ally help you. My dude, even if they helped you. Do not forget you have free will. They did not force you to start exploring yourself and standing up for yourself. You could have ignored their offer of assistance. You totally could have said "Nope, I don't want to." Did you forget that? Please don't water down how well you have done. Acknowledge yourself, please.

You are realizing how wonderful you are. You are finally seeing how kind you are and how considerate you can be. I know leaving that person was painful and it is difficult to reopen the book of you without them in it. It is for the best for both you and them. Again, I am very proud of. Your guides congratulate you as well. It is okay to be guarded for a while. I encourage you to protect your peace while you are exploring more of yourself. I encourage you to ask for help if you need it. Especially because I can still feel your heartache from the loss of someone important to you. If it helps your feel better maybe put some energy to your spirituality. I know it might be tempting to look at old photos and dwell on the past connection. It is okay to do that a little bit while you heal but don't get too caught up in what could've been. It is time to focus on the present and keep your mind on where you want to be and not where you were. Your guides are backing you the whole way through.

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PILE FOUR

Astrology: Taurus, Cancer, Pisces

Song: Sunrise by More Plastic and Halvorsen

Vibes: Red, light blue, yellow, grey, white, cats, divine geometry, snakes, science, spills, reality tv, 1111, hearts, wine, falcon, dragon scales, astrology, grand square/trine, Hermes, Zues, Chronos

Cards: 8 of Cups, Kairos, Gnosis, Conjunction

Alright my dear, the time is going to be right soon. You know what to do and you know when to do it. Don't question it. Even if it makes zero sense logically, just trust that inner knowing. Trust that you know what to do and where to go. Trust. You will be leaving something soon. Perhaps a group, a relationship or a club. Again, you WILL know when and how, when the time comes. The stars are aligning for this escape route of yours. I know it is a bummer to leave because you have had such good times where you are at. You worked really hard on everything you built there. I know you are really anxious about hearing this because it is a bit vague but you knew this was coming, darling. You could see the signs way before any of the drama started. When shit hits the fan you need to be ready to dip out. Don't worry about preparation. Don't worry about details. The universe is going to take care of that for you. You just have to watch and listen to your heart.

Yes, you are in the right. No, you haven't done anything wrong. Spirit is sorry that it might be kind of sudden but I really believe you have already seen the red flags in the place you are leaving. The BIG drama that is about to take place isn't supposed to be part of your journey. It is meant for others to figure out on their own. You are not their teacher. You are meant to be their friend and companion and I think they have been parentifying you in a weird way. Spirit doesn't want you getting in the crossfire of everything that is about to hit. It wants you to listen closely to your intuition and trust yourself to know. This part of your journey is supposed to be mostly chill at the moment. Except for the sudden upheaval. That part is probably gonna be rushed. Everything will be just right for you, I promise. Keep your eyes narrowed and your perception high. Someone is sprinting in your direction and you will need to keep pace with them when they arrive. They will be your getaway driver. I believe in you. The universe will protect you. You will be rescued. Good luck, darling.

[mayakern]

Update on Our Moving Process + Free Book Request!

Hey, y'all! I know that a lot of you guys have been a little bit confused about our moving process and what that is going to look like for the customers, so we wanted to explain some of that and lay out a timeline to give everyone a better idea of what will be occurring within the next few months.

First thing's first, on July 29th, our Luck & Folly products will be delisted from the store while Devin packs them for transfer to the new warehouse. Any returns for Luck & Folly items will be halted during that time period, so please hold tight until we get the 3PL going and are able to facilitate those once more.

After that, we will be delisting any remaining mini skirts during the August 19th-23rd time frame. We will be packing and transferring these as well, so returns will receive the same treatment as above.

On top of that, there is a good chance that the Luck & Folly short sleeve, long sleeve, and Farfalle crop tops will not be returning next year. Mini skirts will also be VERY limited next year if we decide to do them at all. None of these products have been selling well enough for us to produce them in the large quantities that we have been producing them up until now.

So, if you have had your eye on any of these items, we recommend getting them now, because they may not be returning next year! 

Next, we wanted to let our preorder customers know that preorders are now being handled by the 3PL. The timeline is a little shaky, but they should start somewhere between end of August and early September.

So if you ordered any of our preorder items, keep an eye out for those!

Lastly, we have a decent amount of Monster Pop books and Confetti Art Books left.

Not interested in purchasing or have already done so? We would like to request that any of our librarian customers that are interested in receiving donated copies for their local library please email us at hello@mayakern.com. Ash will gladly send some your way!

These are simply too heavy for us to ship to the 3PL, so this is the last chance to purchase or request donations for these books. Otherwise, we'll be donating them locally!

And if you managed to read this entire update, thank you for sticking with us! We know that this is just as confusing and awkward of a time for our customer base as it is for us, so we appreciate everyone's patience and understanding.

Be sure to follow our socials for more frequent updates! 

[thenatashamaximoff]

Heart Of Stone; Ch. 3

Summary: After decades of being HYDRA’s most prized possession, you’re finally free and find yourself under the protective eye of the Avengers. But with a piece of one of the Infinity Stones embedded into your heart, you’re never truly safe…

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, mind control, panic/anxiety attacks

Words: 22,897

✎ | დ

a/n: The add-ons are not necessary to be read to understand what's going on, but they are very subtly mentioned (the "what if" ones are not canon). You're not missing anything if you don't read them, I promise you. However, the events of the main storyline will be mentioned and will connect with this chapter. It's been a long time since we've been here. If y'all need a refresher, I recommend rereading them. Also, don't be afraid to comment! Your thoughts and opinions always motivate me to write more. ┌─────────────ᗢ─────────────┐ @diaryoflife @women-am-i-right @creatively-analytical @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @beforeoursecrets @iliketozoneout @olsensnpm @hoefnagel521 @chasingmaximoff @unrealskye └─────────────ᗢ─────────────┘ ┌─────────────∞─────────────┐ @myfavoriteficss @pinkytoecrust @cyncity32 @peachbear88 @magicallymaximoff @therealmeari @peggycarter-steverogers @ba-romanoff @natashabelovas @morbid-gaymer @reminiscingtonight @when-wolves-howl @idontknownemore @natashasilverfox @sayah13 @fuxk182 @scarletwitchofthewilds @natashamaximoff69 @wuwu96 @jsonebraincell @whendarknessturns @marvel4liferz @red1culous @cd-4848 @theperfectlovestory └─────────────∞─────────────┘

2023 You took it with you when you left. And, for the longest time, it wandered lost and wounded; the heart that she misplaced. But it didn’t give up. It kept beating, albeit with a dull ache, as it searched for a place where it could belong once again. It encountered moments of despair and moments of hope, but it never stopped yearning for the one who had taken it away. Through trials and tribulations, the heart carried on, fueled by the memories of a love that had once been so strong yet so… incomplete. A love that had never gotten the chance to blossom into its full potential. The scars left by the absence of that love were etched deep within, a constant reminder of what could have been.

And, just when it had almost given up hope, destiny intervened, leading the heart on a path of an unexpected reunion, where it would finally find solace and healing in the most astonishing way.

“Do you know what a… a supernova is?” She couldn’t help but smile at your soft-spoken question, and it was extremely easy for her to turn her gaze away from the night sky to look at the side of your face. How untroubled you were in this moment, relaxed in a state of bliss that was nearly contagious. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm wash over her as she gazed at you, her healing heart beating steadily in her chest. “When a star… A star can run out of fuel, and that triggers a series of- of explosive events.” She could feel her stomach flip when your cheeks stretched against your lips as a smile formed. “It can briefly outshine an… entire galaxy.”

“Tell me more.” Her voice was lower than yours, a mere breath in the scant space between you and her, but she knew you heard her when your grin only grew wider.

“It marks the end of a- a star’s life,” you continued, “but it also creates new… elements that can be used to form new stars and… and planets.” Finally, you turned your head to meet her gaze, and she had to fight every fiber in her being to not close the little distance. “The end of something old, but… the beginning of something new. Like a… a rewritten story.”

No need for her to utter a sound, no need to fill the new quiet with meaningless words. Instead, she preferred to simply enjoy the view, to bask in the beauty of you. Your face, illuminated by the moonlight, gave you an ethereal aura. The soft light of the stars embraced you as if they were shining solely for you, creating an image of a heavenly being in her mind.

“You could be an angel.” The whispered words slipped past her lips before she even realized it, and she saw your expression change. Your features, once warm and relaxed, now creased with wrinkles of confusion. Your eyebrows knitted together, and your head tilted slightly, but a faint smile still lingered on your lips. However, the uncertainty in your eyes was unmistakable.

“But I… I don’t want to die, Wanda…” you said softly, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Her throat constricted almost as tight as her heart did when she gasped lightly at your words, a thin yet obvious layer of tears glossing over her eyes. She found herself inching toward you on the blanket, desperate to get close enough for your nose to brush across hers. “You won’t,” she declared, the bewilderment riddling your features washing away at the determination in her voice. “Nothing will happen to you. Nothing will ever hurt you.” She shook her head, swallowing a mouthful of saliva thickly. “I won’t let it, dove.” 

She leaned forward, but her movements were interrupted by the appearance of your hand in front of her face. Her eyebrows furrowed tightly together, confusion washing over her like water, yet it was all dried out when she noticed all of your fingers tucked into a fist, with your pinky standing tall and proud. “Do you… promise?”

A soft smile lifted the corners of her lips as she wrapped her pinky around yours tightly. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.” As you nodded, her eyes fluttered closed long before she pressed her lips against yours in a deep kiss that ignited a fire in her soul. She broke the hold your pinky had on hers to move her hand toward you, the tips of her fingers gently caressing your jawline in a delicate touch. The tenderness of her gesture sent a shiver down your spine as if her fingertips carried a soothing warmth that spread throughout your body. 

In that moment, it felt as if time stood still. The world faded away around her, replaced by a sense of peace and security. It was just the two of you, connected by the gentle touch of her hand and the soft, passionate pressure of your lips. And, even when you parted to catch your breath, her fingers remained, eyes locked in a hypnotic trance.

Her touch spoke volumes in the silence, conveying a depth of love and affection that words couldn’t fully capture. It was a dialect only the two of you understood, a silent conversation that transcended the boundaries of spoken language.

“I… I want to stay here. With… you. My Wanda.” Your eyes somehow sparkled brighter in the darkness, making the stars above envy your shine. The vulnerability in your voice tugged at her heart, and a gentle smile graced her mouth. She brushed the pad of her thumb across your bottom lip, featherlight yet warm all the same. “I like… the stars.” Your movement was reluctant, not wanting to turn from her touch, yet you ultimately returned your gaze to the night sky above. Wanda’s heart swelled with a mixture of adoration and longing.

She shifted closer, her body pressing against yours as if to bridge the gap between the stars and your souls. Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with an unwavering determination and tenderness, “Then let’s stay.” She wanted to feel you, to relish in the warmth a single touch brings. She brought her hand back up, tracing gentle circles on your cheek. The chills that overtook your body caused you to shiver underneath her fingertip, and she smiled softly at you when you pulled your attention away from the stars to meet her gaze. “Right here.”

Your lips pursed together, your eyes unmoving as your mind raced through words. “Aren’t you… tired?”

“No, my dove,” she answered warmly, her voice filled with affection. “I want to hear more about the stars.” As her words danced through the air, she couldn’t help but feel her stomach twist with joy. The way your eyes lit up, a radiant smile spreading across your face, was a sight that made her heart skip a beat. 

You extended your arm, a silent invitation for Wanda to move closer, and instinctively she leaned into you. But instead of resting her head against your shoulder, she nestled her ear over your chest, finding solace in the rhythmic thumping that reverberated through her being. It was as if she sought refuge in the steady cadence, the comforting song that echoed within your body. When you spoke, your voice was low and husky, “Some stars are so far away that… that their light takes thousands of years to… reach us.” The steady beat in her ear, your lulling voice in the other, she felt a profound sense of calm and tranquility. Every word that slipped from your lips was like a gentle caress to her soul, painting vivid pictures of serenity and peace. “We’re actually gazing into the past… Seeing the remnants of… the stars long gone.”

Wanda’s fingers gently intertwined with yours, deepening the connection between you and her. “Show me some constellations.”

Gently, you guided Wanda’s hand, pointing to the night sky speckled with stars. Your fingers traced invisible lines, connecting the celestial dots to form constellations. “There…” you said softly, your voice filled with a mix of enthusiasm and admiration. “That cluster is… Orion. The hunter. Do you see how the three stars in the… middle form his belt?”

Wanda’s eyes followed your guidance, her gaze fixed on the starry canvas above. She leaned in closer as if trying to capture every detail of the constellations you were unveiling. “And what about that one?” she asked, her voice filled with curiosity, as her fingers traced the outline of a different group of stars.

“That’s… Ursa Major,” you replied, your voice holding a touch of wonder, “the Great Bear. The seven stars that form the… the Big Dipper- They’re part of it.”

Gradually, the tranquility of the night and the lilting beat of the drumming in your chest began to soothe Wanda into a peaceful slumber. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her, but in your embrace, she found solace and safety. With a gentle sigh, her eyes slid closed, her head nestling further against you. Your heartbeat, the steady rhythm that had provided her comfort through the night, now served as a lullaby, lulling her deeper into sleep.

Your ancient tales of the stars faded to a pause when you looked down at her, a soft smile tugging your lips as you watched the rise and fall of her chest with each tranquil breath. The sky above continued to twinkle as if keeping watch over the two of you, the celestial light casting a gentle glow upon your peaceful tableau.

Carefully, you adjusted your position, ensuring Wanda was comfortable against you, as you leaned your head against the warm blanket beneath you. You gazed up at the stars that had become witnesses to your love story, and, as the night embraced you both, you surrendered to its tender embrace, knowing that tomorrow would bring new adventures, new constellations to discover, and a love that would continue to shine brightly… just like the stars above.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ᗢ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Wanda’s eyes fluttered open, greeted by the gentle caress of sunlight on her face. As her surroundings came into focus, she found herself sitting on the blanket, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric beneath her. A sense of disorientation washed over her as she realized the space beside her was empty.

Brows furrowed with confusion, she searched the immediate vicinity, hoping to catch a glimpse of your familiar presence. But all she found were the remnants of the night’s stargazing adventures, the memories still fresh in her mind.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she recalled the warmth of your embrace, the comforting thump of your heartbeat, and the whispered words that had filled the air. Had it all been a dream? The doubt lingered, tugging at her heartstrings. Questions swirled in her mind as she tried to make sense of the situation. Had you left while she was lost in slumber? Was it all just a figment of her imagination, a manifestation of her longing and desire?

As she rose to her feet, determination mingled with trepidation in Wanda’s gaze. She turned her attention towards the front of the house behind her, her eyes scanning the windows in search of a glimpse of you. Her stomach twisted with anticipation, knowing that the next few moments held the answer to her unspoken question.

Leaving the blanket behind, a testament to the fleeting moments shared, Wanda made her way toward the quaint home. Each step felt like an eternity, yet she couldn’t help but feel drawn to the possibility that awaited her inside. Reaching the front door, her trembling hand grasped the doorknob. With a deep breath, she turned it and pushed it open, allowing the familiar creaking sound to fill the air. The weight of her anticipation was palpable as she stepped across the threshold, her eyes daring around the still room.

“Y/N?” Her voice was barely a whisper, catching in her throat as she called out your name. The silence that followed was deafening, echoing the emptiness that mirrored her heart. It threatened to swallow her whole, fueling the fear that she was too late, that you had slipped away. 

But then, a sound reached her ears. A clanging noise emanated from the kitchen, a hint of life amidst the stillness. Her pulse quickened, and a glimmer of hope sparkled within her. With renewed determination, she followed the sound, her steps becoming more assured with each passing moment.

Rounding the corner, her eyes fell upon you. And there you stood, amidst the chaos of bubbling pots and sizzling pans, a concentrated expression on your face - seen underneath the smudges of flour coloring your complexion - as you were oblivious to her arrival. Smoke wafted through the air from the burnt bacon that sat on the hot stove, and it was then that Wanda noticed the broken fire alarm sitting next to the sink, silent and useless.

Amusement washed over her as she took in the scene, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the doorway. A playful smile danced on her lips as she watched you navigate the confusion of the kitchen,  your movements an uneven blend of purpose and panic. Pots and pans clanged, ingredients were scattered haphazardly, the nose-burning smell of charred meat… There was a certain charm in the disarray.

She observed your furrowed brow and the occasional look of perplexity that flickered across your face. It was evident that this culinary endeavor was challenging, but your enthusiasm remained unwavering. She couldn’t help but be captivated by your perseverance to tackle something new, even if it resulted in a temporary state of chaos.

As you reached for a spice jar, knocking over a measuring cup in the process, Wanda couldn’t contain her laughter. The sound echoed through the kitchen, filling the room with contagious joy. The sound brought a momentary pause to your frantic activity, causing you to look up and meet her gaze. And though your eyebrows shot up in shock, it seemed as if her presence brought a sense of calm amidst the culinary storm.

An embarrassed smile tugged your lips as your arms fell to your side, looking down while she walked further into the room. “I- I wanted to… surprise you.” You rested your hands on the counter, digging your thumb nervously into your palm. Wanda’s laughter subsided, replaced by a tender expression.  “You… You cook for me all the time. I wanted to…” You huffed, shaking your head and, though she couldn’t see it, she could see the signs that your bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “I’m… I’m not very good at it. Maybe I should just… stick to peanut butter sandwiches.”

She rounded the island, placing a delicate hand over your nervous ones upon reaching you as she swiftly flicked the stove top off. “It’s not about the perfect meal, my dove. It’s about the effort and intention behind it.” You looked up at her through your lashes, and seeing the warm smile on her face caused you to relax further. “And, in my eyes… you’re already succeeding.”

Your posture straightened with newfound determination. The embarrassment that had made a home on your face washed away as a bright smile turned that frown upside down. “Will you… teach me?” The words slipped from your lips, laced with eagerness and vulnerability. Wanda’s eyes softened as she looked at the culinary disaster spread out on the counter - from the charred strips of bacon to the watery pancakes sitting on a plate - and she nodded her head in agreement.

“After we clean up,” she offered with a soft laugh, her voice gentle and reassuring. Her hand moved from yours to rest against your cheek, her touch both comforting and electrifying. The warmth of her palm against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but lean into her touch, reveling in the affectionate connection between you. Her thumb moved in soft circles, wiping away some of the flour painting your features.

With a shared understanding, you both set aside the wreckage of your cooking attempt and began the task of cleaning up. It became a shared endeavor, a dance of laughter and gentle touches as you worked side by side, turning a chaotic kitchen into a space of order and cleanliness.

As the last dish was placed in its rightful spot, Wanda turned towards you, a playful glimmer in her eyes. “Now, let the real culinary adventure begin,” she claimed, your face lighting up with excitement.

You watched carefully as she turned the stove back on, the flame flickering to life beneath the burner. She grabbed the pan and placed it on the now-heated surface, the metal hissing with anticipation. With a graceful motion, she picked up a few strips of bacon and expertly placed them onto the skillet, the sound of the sizzle filling the kitchen.

Your eyes were fixed on her hands, marveling at the precision and confidence with which she handled the task. Each movement was deliberate as if she had done this a hundred times before. It was a simple act, cooking bacon, but the way she did it made it seem like a work of art.

As the aroma of crackling bacon filled the air, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for Wanda’s skills. She had effortlessly transformed a chaotic kitchen into a space of culinary magic, and you were grateful to be a witness to her expertise. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you leaned against the countertop, content to watch her work her magic. The clattering of pots and pans, the occasional laughter, and the tantalizing scent of cooking filled the air, creating a symphony of domestic bliss.

In that moment, it didn’t matter that the pancakes had been watery or that the fire alarm had been broken. What mattered was the connection between you, the shared experience of learning and growing together. And as you watched Wanda cook, you knew that every adventure would be an opportunity to strengthen your bond and create beautiful memories. Together, you would navigate the world, supporting each other, laughing at the mishaps, and savoring the delicious results. It was a journey you were excited to embark on, hand in hand, knowing that with Wanda by your side, every day would be a celebration of love, passion, and shared experiences.

As Wanda turned off the stove and stacked the dirty dishes into the sink (once again), a realization struck you. Lost in the mesmerizing sight of her, you hadn’t paid attention to the details or learned anything from her culinary expertise. The awareness brought a sheepish smile to your face.

With an amused smirk, Wanda met your gaze, her eyes twinkling with mirth. It was as if she were reading your thoughts this very moment, knowing that you had been too captivated by her presence to absorb any practical knowledge. She took a step closer, her hands gently cradling your face. She couldn’t help it, thriving on the way your touch warms her insides.

“Why don’t you go freshen up while the food cools down?” she proposed, her voice filled with affection and a hint of playfulness. Her suggestion was accompanied by a tender gesture, her thumbs moving in delicate circles against your skin. The intimacy of the moment made your heart skip a beat, and you found yourself getting lost in the deep emeralds of her eyes, feeling a connection that went beyond words.

You nodded in agreement, appreciating her for just a moment longer before taking the opportunity to collect yourself after the whirlwind of emotions and sensations. As you turned your head towards the kitchen door, you couldn’t resist stealing a quick glance at Wanda, admiring her in that moment. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners, the soft curves of her lips, and the gentle touch of her hands on your face - they were all reminders of the affection and tenderness you shared.

A light laugh parted her mouth after you stole a sneaky kiss before making your way out of the room.

With a couple of fixed plates in her hands and a hint of intrigue in her eyes, Wanda set aside the task of arranging the meal and walked toward the front of the house. The knock grew slightly louder, slightly more impatient, as she approached the door, filling her with curiosity. When she opened it, a soft smile formed on the Sokovian’s lips, yet the unfamiliar face didn’t sate her confusion.

“Hello, dear.” The woman beamed widely, a potted plant held carelessly in her hands. “I’m Agnes, your neighbor to the right.” Wanda’s soft smile strengthened at the friendly greeting. “Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block! My mother-in-law was in town, so I wasn’t.” She walked further into the house, plopping the housewarming gift into Wanda’s arms. “What’s your name? Where are you from? And, most importantly, what is that fantastic smell?”

“Well, I’m Wanda.”

“Wanda. Charmed.” Agnes chuckled softly as she looked around. “Golly, you settled in fast! Did you use a moving company?”

“I sure did,” Wanda claimed, quickly nodding as she placed the plant on the table. “Those boxes certainly didn’t move themselves.” She wiped her hands across the front of her shirt, watching Agnes lean forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with interest.

“So, what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house?”

Wanda’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly, her mind briefly wandering to you just upstairs. “Oh, no. I’m not single,” she replied, her voice a touch softer.

Agnes raised an eyebrow playfully, her gaze shifting to Wanda’s left hand as she sat down on the couch. “I don’t see a ring,” the neighbor pointed out.

The Sokovian cleared her throat, her cheeks growing warmer. “Well, I- I assure you I’m happily married.” She placed her hands on her hips in hopes of hiding her fingers, though she knew there was no use now. “As a matter of fact, she’s just upstairs.”

“Wands, I-” The two women turned their heads at the sound of your approach, and you froze in the middle of the stairs upon making eye contact with Agnes. Wanda was quick to move toward you, catching one of your hands before you could bother the scar marking your palm to gently tug you down the rest of the way as the unknown woman stood up respectfully. Your lips seemed to glue shut the moment you processed the guest, your hand squeezing Wanda’s fingers.

“The woman of the hour!” Agnes announced, stepping up to you. “Always in the know, that’s me. How are you, dear?” She laughed heartily, and you glanced at Wanda uneasily, who was looking at you with care and concern. Agnes’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she beamed at you with the widest smile you had ever seen on a stranger. “Aren’t you a precious little thing,” she claimed, tapping the tip of your nose in a quick and unexpected move that caught you off guard. “I could just eat you up!”

You took a small step to the side, instinctively trying to protect your nose from further attacks, and peeked over Wanda’s shoulder, hoping to find some sort of shield from Agnes’s playful teasing. “Please don’t…” you whispered, and her robust chuckle told you she heard you.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I don’t eat people.” A smirk played at the side of her lips, leaning forward slightly as she added in a low voice, “At least, not anymore.”

Feeling a surge of apprehension, your hand squeezed Wanda’s gently once more, seeking comfort and support. Sensing your need, she cleared her throat, redirecting Agnes’s attention back to her. “Y/N and I were just about to sit down for breakfast,” the Sokovian clarified, her voice steady and composed.

The neighbor’s eyes lit up with curiosity, and she nodded in understanding. “Ah, breakfast! Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt such a delicious affair! I’ll leave you two lovebirds to enjoy your meal.” She winked mischievously, her playful demeanor evident. “But remember, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to knock on my door. I’m just to the right.” You stayed behind Wanda as your eyes followed the retreating woman, watching her pull open the door as she turned to face the two of you. “My right, not yours!” She chuckled softly this time as she stepped out, leaving you and Wanda alone.

The witch turned to you, a gentle expression on her face. “Are you okay?” Her fingers intertwined with yours as you nodded, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Did you want to do something today?” Wanda used her hold on you to tug you to the table, leaving you to take your own seat for a brief moment before she returned with the two plates piled with the food she had cooked moments before the interruption. 

“Can… Nat come over?” Your hopeful eyes met her bright green ones almost instantly as you picked up a fork. “I… I want her to see our… home.”

Wanda could feel her posture weaken as her shoulders sagged at your question, her bottom lip finding its way in between her teeth as you turned your attention to the food in front of you. “Oh, sweetheart…” She eyed you carefully. “She’s not in the country, you know that.” The prongs of your fork poked at the slices of toast on your plate, and she could feel the sharp tug of her heart at the sight of your frown. She reached toward you, placing her hand gently over yours to offer comfort. “I know how much you miss her,” she said, her voice filled with empathy. “I miss her, too, but she’s on a mission. We have to respect that.” Her thumb traced soothing circles on the back of your hand, trying to ease the disappointment you felt. “How about we take a walk this afternoon?” she continued, her tone growing more cheerful.

Your eyes brightened a little, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “That… sounds nice,” you replied, your voice carrying a glimmer of enthusiasm. “Just the… two of us, right?”

Wanda’s grin matched yours as she squeezed your hand gently. “Of course,” she stated. “We can even go to that little place we went to the other day. What was it called again?” Her heart skipped a beat when your small smile grew wide, a comfortable knot forming in her stomach when you flipped your hand over to intertwine your fingers through hers. It was the source of the warmth radiating throughout her entire body.

“For… For Art’s Sake?” She couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your enthusiasm, wondering how it was possible for a human to hold more light than the sun. “I… We can go?”

“Anything for you, my dove.” She moved her hand to rest her palm against your cheek in a delicate touch, feeling just how quickly she relaxed when you leaned against her.

With renewed optimism, you picked up your fork and resumed eating, savoring each bite of the delicious meal. As you enjoyed the breakfast together, the anticipation of exploring the neighborhood filled the air, creating a sense of excitement and possibility. In that moment, you knew that no matter what the day had in store, being with Wanda was all you needed to make it special.

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As the afternoon sun painted the neighborhood in golden hues, you and Wanda embarked on a leisurely stroll down the charming streets, reveling in the beauty of your new surroundings. Towering trees line the sidewalks, their branches swaying softly in the breeze. The houses, adorned with charming facades and well-tended gardens, exuded a sense of warmth and tranquility.

A symphony of colors greets your eyes as vibrant flowers bloom in every yard, splashing the landscape with nature’s artwork. Roses in various shades whispered sweet scents, while daisies and tulips danced in the morning light. The air was alive with the melodic chirping of birds, their songs interweaving harmoniously to create a serene soundtrack.

But Wanda’s attention wasn’t captured by the picturesque scenery alone. Her gaze was fixed on you, captivated by the way you eagerly absorbed every detail around you. She didn’t fight the feeling, becoming enchanted by the way your eyes darted from one beautiful sight to another, like a child in a candy store. She smiled warmly, filled with affection as she observed the way your features sparkled with excitement. The gentle breeze tousled your hair, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to the way your face lit up with joy. It was in these simple moments that she found herself falling in love with you all over again.

“Witnessing the world through your eyes is a gift,” Wanda murmured, her voice filled with admiration. “You have an incredible ability to find wonder in the smallest things.”

You turned to her, a bright grin gracing your lips. “It’s… It’s hard not to be amazed when everything around us is so… beautiful.” Your arms swayed by your sides as you walked, and there was no mistaking the intentional brush of your knuckles against hers. “But… it’s even more special because I… I get to share it with you.” Her heart fluttered at your words, warmth swallowing her insides as she looked away to hide the dark red coloring her cheeks. “It’s… surreal.”

Her gaze returned to you, eyebrows pinched together tightly with confusion. You noticed the change, the sign of her perplexity, and it made you pause for a moment as you realized your words might have come across as ambiguous. Your lips pursed together, your eyes bouncing back and forth between hers as you worked your mind to come up with a better explanation.

“I- I mean… being here with you. It’s like a… a dream come true.” You breathed out as you slowly reached out for her hand, looking down to watch your fingers intertwine through hers, and the way her heart skipped a beat was serene. “I never imagined I’d be able to… touch you like this.”

Her brows unfurrowed slightly, the confusion giving way to a glimmer of understanding. Wanda’s lips curved into a tender smile, a mixture of relief and affection shining in her eyes. She hooked a finger under your chin, delicately guiding your head up to meet her gaze once more. “Being here with you feels like a dream for me too,” she murmured lowly, feeling a surge of warmth flow through her arm when you gave her hand a subconscious squeeze. “To hold your hand, to feel your touch… I never thought we’d see the day when I’d be able to do that.” The gentle breeze continued to brush against her skin, almost as if nature itself was encouraging her to bridge the gap between you. And she did.

Using her finger under your chin, she gently steered you closer, closing the distance between your lips. As they met in a soft kiss, the warmth that lingered in her arm expanded, spreading like wildfire through her entire body. Time seemed to stand still, and the world around you faded away. With each lingering touch of your lips, the warmth only intensified, enveloping them in a cocoon of bliss and contentment.

When you finally parted, a shared breathless smile danced on your lips, and Wanda’s eyes sparkled with a newfound certainty. “I never want to let go of this feeling,” she whispered. “Being with you, touching you… It’s everything I’ve ever longed for. And I won’t take it for granted.”

With a nod of her head, you continued your stroll, hand in hand. “I-” You looked down, watching your feet move you forward. “I don’t want to… take it for granted either.” You picked your head up, turning toward her to catch her small smile and twinkling eyes. “Wands… I l-”

“Hey there, Wanda.” Her smile tightened as she turned her head at the sound of her name. The mailman, with a cheerful expression, approached you with his cart in tow. He reached into the cart and retrieved a single card, instantly recognizable by its appearance. Wanda’s heart skipped a beat, and a sense of anticipation filled the air. “Just this today,” he confirmed, extending the card towards you. However, after a moment of hesitation, Wanda reached out and took it instead.

“Wh- Where?” you asked, your eyes fixed on her as the man walked away. She laughed lightly when you eagerly accepted the card from her outstretched hand, your fingers grazing hers. Your gaze shifted to the picture on the postcard, revealing a serene beach lined with people and what appeared to be a castle hidden behind trees dancing on the space between sand and grass. As you studied the image, Wanda’s gaze was glued to you, observing the emotions flickering across your face. “Spain… She’s in Spain.” Your voice was laced with excitement, yet there was a tinge of longing minced in your words. Handing the postcard back to Wanda, you watched as she delicately flipped it over with another soft chuckle, tracing the curves of the handwritten message with her eyes. “Wh- What did… she say?”

“‘Thinking of you from the shores of Spain. Wish you were here to explore the enchantment together. Until then, let this postcard be a glimpse into the magic we’ll experience when we reunite. Sending love across the distance. Nat.’”

“She’s… She’s…” Your eyes shimmered with a mixture of joy and wistfulness. Excitement overwhelmed your entire being, leaving you rendered incapable of speaking. 

“She’s thinking of you,” Wanda finished your thought with a soft smile, her eyes filled with fondness. “Nat always had a way of making every place magical, whether she’s on assignment or not.” You let out a contented sigh, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you. The weight on your shoulders seemed to lighten, and watching them relax helped Wanda do just the same.

She extended her hand, a silent invitation to continue exploring the city together. You gladly accepted, intertwining your fingers with hers. The postcard, now safely tucked away in your pocket, held a cherished place in both your hearts as you walked hand in hand.

“What’s… that?” Wanda hadn’t realized she had been lost in your smile once again until you spoke, pulling her out of her reverie. She followed your gesture and looked in the direction you were pointing. In the distance, a lively scene unfolded before them. Tents were pitched, colorful balloons adorned tables, and the sound of music gradually grew louder as they approached.

It was a block party.

A mix of excitement and curiosity bubbled within Wanda as she observed the gathering. Laughter filled the air, and the aroma of delicious food wafted through the streets. Adults of all ages mingled, dancing to the upbeat rhythm and indulging in the festive atmosphere. As you slowed to a stop, her hand tightened around yours, a silent expression of her anticipation and willingness to join in the celebration, before the connection between you fell away. You looked at her, captivated by the longing in her eyes, and took a deep breath before walking forward.

“Y/N?” Wanda tailed after you, her face pinched up in confusion. “We don’t have to-”

“I’m…” You pursed your lips together, contemplating the next few seconds, before saying, “I see your new… friend.” Wanda, momentarily taken aback by your sudden determination, followed your gaze and spotted Agnes among the partygoers. A flicker of recognition crossed her face, and she couldn’t help but have her curiosity overwhelmed with intrigue. With a small nod, she understood your intentions and followed you to the festivities.

As you entered the lively atmosphere of the party, Wanda couldn’t help but notice the subtle glances you would steal in her direction. It reminded her of the way you used to look towards Natasha, seeking her support and comfort in public settings. The memory stirred a bittersweet feeling within her, as she understood the significance of those stolen glances. Realizing that you now sought solace and reassurance in her presence warmed Wanda’s heart. It was a testament to the bond you had developed and the trust that had grown between you. She felt a deep sense of gratitude and a renewed determination to be there for you, just as Natasha had been.

“Wanda!” Agnes, leaving her little group behind, made her way toward you with her signature grin. “And Y/N, a pleasure.”

Wanda’s gaze shifted towards Agnes as she approached, her curiosity piqued by the woman’s loud but friendly demeanor. She quickly glanced toward you, but your eyes were drawn to the neighbor’s nearing figure. She couldn’t see what you were thinking if you wouldn’t look at her.

“You two look absolutely fetching,” she claimed, crossing her arms over her chest with a touch of enthusiasm. “I’m thrilled you joined us! A block party just isn’t complete without the whole block, am I right?” Her laughter boomed, causing a faint twitch in your expression, a subtle reaction that Wanda’s observant gaze didn’t miss. Agnes’s piercing blue eyes seemed to fixate on you, making you instinctively tense up beside the Sokovian.

“We actually weren’t aware that a party was planned today,” Wanda confessed, luring Agnes’s attention away from you and onto her, “but it’s a pleasant way to get to know the neighbors!” Her chuckle was soothing and melodic - a stark difference to Agnes’s - and the sound of it melted away the tension that had gripped your muscles. “How about we explore the food options together? I’m sure they’ll have your favorite…” Her words trailed off as she realized you were suddenly no longer by her side, an instant knot of worry forming in the pit of her stomach. Swiftly, her eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for your familiar presence amidst the crowd.

“You’ve got quite the crafty spouse, huh?” Agnes teased, her laughter carrying a light, playful tone. But she could see panic slowly overtaking the color of Wanda’s eyes and she gestured towards her with a reassuring wave. “No need to fret, dear. I’ll help you find her.”

Wanda gently moved past Agnes, her brain not quite registering the words the neighbor had just spoken. A heavy sensation settled in her chest, constricting her breathing and causing her heart to beat in slow, heavy thumps. The party’s atmosphere was warm and inviting, filled with friendly faces, but she hardly noticed them as she pushed deeper into the gathering. Her thoughts spun in a whirlwind, waves of worries and scenarios flooding her mind. How had you managed to step away from her without her noticing? Where could you have possibly gone in this small space? And, more importantly, what’s going to happen when you bump into a stranger who is overly friendly?

She let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head gently. The party scene wasn’t exactly your forte, and that was one of the aspects she cherished about you. Your preference for cozy nights indoors, where you’d spend time doodling in your notebook or sitting together, engrossed in her favorite sitcoms, had its own kind of charm she absolutely loved. The sight of the lively party, though, had stirred a fleeting thought in her - a desire to proudly present you to the neighborhood, to walk in together with her arm intertwined with yours, showing off the treasure she had found. However, it was a fleeting thought, gone almost as soon as it had surfaced. A brief moment, a flicker in her eyes, which you had perhaps misconstrued for something else.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” Wanda snapped out of her daze to focus on the woman in front of her, her hands resting on the witch’s shoulders as if she were keeping her up. “I should’ve been focusing on where I was walking!” The woman laughed generously, awkwardly, releasing the gentle hold she held on Wanda. The stranger sighed, shaking her head lightly as she fanned herself with her hand. “I actually don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“I’m starting to feel that way myself. I’m Wanda.” She held out a hand, smiling politely, yet the expression felt forced as the panic that had formed in her stomach only seemed to grow tighter the longer she went without seeing you.

“I’m, uh… Geraldine.” Geraldine accepted Wanda’s hand, giving her a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Say, I’m pretty new to town and I-” She interrupted herself when she noticed the lack of attention she was receiving from Wanda, an eyebrow raised slightly with curiosity as she watched the Sokovian’s eyes dart around the party behind her. “Are you-” She maneuvered her way to get in front of her, cutting off her line of sight to gain her attention. “Are you looking for somebody?”

“What?” Wanda blinked, focusing her gaze to meet Geraldine’s. “Oh, yes. My wife.”

“Your wife?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I lost track of her a few minutes ago and I’m just worried she might be…” Wanda’s voice faded as her gaze landed on you. You were seated at a picnic table with Agnes beside you, positioned at your preferred distance. The sight of you began to untangle the knot in Wanda’s gut. Her yearning to be closer to you was palpable as she watched you dig your thumb into your palm while Agnes chatted with you. However, she wondered if the neighbor’s words were even registering with you.

Agnes picked up a fry between her fingers delicately from the plate in front of her. “So, what made you and your wife move to our charming little town?” You blinked, muscles freezing as if you hadn't expected her to break the silence. Your eyebrows knitted together as you processed her sudden question, a hint of uncertainty playing on your features. Your mind worked quickly, trying to recall the answer to this seemingly straightforward icebreaker. A slight unease settled in as you searched for the words. You pushed your thumb into the scar riddling your palm slowly, breathing out deeply through your nose as you focused intently on the empty space before you. Agnes watched you for a moment longer, chewing thoughtfully. It didn’t seem like you had any intentions of answering the question. Hell, it didn’t seem like you had any intentions of talking at all. There had to be something Agnes could do to make you more comfortable around her. She leaned back, her wide grin shrinking to a softer, warmer smile. “No pressure, dear,” she assured, sliding the plate closer to you. “Are you hungry?”

For a fleeting moment, your gaze moved towards the food before you raised your head to lock eyes with her, a spark of curiosity coloring your irises. As her nod of encouragement came, your fingers moved, and by some accident, they brushed against Agnes’s. The connection was brief, but it sent a puzzling warmth flowing through you as your muscles locked. She moved her hand as she cleared her throat, and that managed to pull you out of your panic state. You grabbed a fry, bringing it to your mouth to let the salty flavor dance across your tongue. A sensation of ease embraced you at the taste, your shoulders falling as you relaxed. However, as you reached for another, the plate seemed to move away from you, as if you had unintentionally pushed it. Confusion knitted your brows together as you looked up at Agnes, only for a tightness to return to your muscles at the sight of her crooked smile.

“How about we indulge in a little game?” she proposed, keeping the plate - complete with a hotdog, though your attention was riveted on the fries - closer to herself. “I’ll happily provide you with more of these,” she gestured toward the food, “in exchange for an answer.” You found yourself chewing on the inside of your cheek, your gaze darting quickly across the party as you searched for Wanda in a moment of unease. Unable to locate her, you relented, nodding in agreement with Agnes’s offer, a subtle grin of satisfaction gracing her features.

“I-” You cleared your throat, a bit of discomfort lingering as you gathered your thoughts. “We… We were looking for a… change. A quieter place to… to settle down.” Your eyes flickered toward Agnes before your hands found their way onto the table, tracing an idle pattern with your nail across your palm.

Agnes nodded appreciatively as if you had just shared a fascinating tidbit. “Ah, the quest for a peaceful haven. It’s something we can all relate to. Westview is the perfect place for that.” Her lips curled into a knowing smile as she noted your subtle interest in the plate, the way you’d look at it from the corner of your eyes. “A deal’s a deal.” She inched the food closer to you, her chuckle soft as she observed the way you eagerly reached for another fry. Leaning in slightly, she added, “Have the two of you explored the town a bit? Discovered any hidden gems I ought to be aware of?”

Your enthusiasm surged, and a radiant smile painted your face as you eagerly nodded. “We found a little… art museum,” you began, your gaze lifting to meet Agnes’s, where you found her typically piercing blue eyes now soft and gentle. “It’s… uh, a l- local place.” You glanced around the party once more, your gaze seemingly searching for your other half, but this time it wasn’t in need of comfort. It held an air of secrecy, as if you were about to share a juicy secret with your nosy neighbor. You turned back towards Agnes, your voice lowering an octave to keep your next sentence out of the ears of any bystanders. “I’m trying to… get my art displayed so… so I can surprise Wanda.”

“For Art’s Sake?” Agnes wore a sly smile when you cautiously nodded, her voice suddenly tinged with excitement. “Can you believe it, my husband, Ralph, is the one who runs that place. Isn’t that a marvelous coincidence?” She playfully wagged her finger, adding, “In fact, there’s an empty spot in the gallery he’s been itching to fill.”

“R- Really?” you responded, perking up.

“Absolutely!” She beamed, sliding the plate of fries closer to you. “It’s a charmingly small town, darling, just teeming with delightful surprises.” She leaned in even closer, her tone conspiratorial. “How about we make a little reverse art heist? You and I can swing by your place to grab that painting. Meanwhile, I’ll discreetly pop over to the museum and set it up. By the time you return with Wanda, it’ll be a wonderful surprise waiting for her.”

You scanned the lively gathering, but amidst the bustling crowd, you were still incapable of locating Wanda. A nagging thought in the back of your mind urged you to seek her out, to share the scheme you were hatching. After all, she was your confidant, your partner in navigating life’s twists and turns. Yet, here you stood at a crossroads, torn between the instinctual desire to include her in your plans and the wish to keep the surprise intact.

Agnes had a fleeting concern that you might change your mind as moments stretched in silence, so imagine her surprise when you finally nodded, returning your gaze to her with newfound determination. “Okay…” As you began to rise from your seat, it became clear that there was no room for her to do or say anything else; you had made up your mind, and you fully expected her to follow your lead.

To her credit, she did indeed follow. And, soon, she found herself standing in front of a map of the world hanging up in your living room. A few postcards were pinned to it, marking the locations from which they were presumably sent, although the pictures on the front held no names of the states. Agnes, being the nosy neighbor she is, couldn’t help but sneak a peek at what was written on the other side, but the sound of you descending the stairs quickly made her abandon her attempts.

“I… I’ve got it.” You presented a canvas as you looked toward her, your eyes landing on the map she was standing in front of. You made your way over to it, reaching into your pocket and leaning the artwork against the wall. She watched with curious eyes as you pinned a new postcard over Spain, now totaling four in all. “We can… We can go now.” You picked up the painting as you turned to leave, but her curiosity got the better of her.

“Who are they from?”

“Nat.” You looked at the map, your expression briefly clouded by sorrow. “She’s… on an assign- mission. But she’s going to take me and Wanda to… see the world when she’s done!” A grin spread across your face, eyes lighting up with excitement as you pointed at the postcard you had just pinned. “She’s in… Spain right now. She’s tracking down a… a rogue agent.”

Agnes tilted her head to the side as she looked at you. “Who’s Nat?”

“Natasha,” you expressed, meeting her gaze, “Romanoff. She’s…” Your smile turned rueful. “She’s my mom. I- I miss her… all the time, but… she’s doing her job. And her job… It’s important.” She watched as your gaze quickly shifted back to the card on the wall, your lips caught between your teeth. There was a sense of innocence about you that Agnes almost found endearing, a childlike wonder that time hadn’t managed to erase.

“Well, this painting isn’t going to hang itself, dear!” she declared, extending her hand. “May I?” 

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek as you stared at her opened palm. It was as if you had momentarily forgotten the plan altogether, pulling the painted canvas against you to prevent Agnes from reaching it. She released an impatient sigh but maintained a small, warm smile as her hands fell away. “Do you… Be- Be careful with it,” you quietly pleaded, passing the artwork to her. You felt a momentary tension in your muscles as her fingers brushed lightly across your knuckles. Yet when she pulled away, a perplexing warmth flowed through your veins, leaving you somewhat bewildered and frozen.

She rewarded you with a radiant grin. “I’ll be extremely delicate with it,” she assured you. “Give me an hour.” She passed you to make her way toward the door, pulling it open before glancing back over her shoulder. “It’ll be perfectly set up by then.” With a wink, she vanished behind the closing door, leaving you frozen with deep breaths to steady your racing heart…

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“There you are!” Wanda’s voice resonated with relief the moment you joined her. If that wasn’t enough to convey her emotions, her arms wrapping around you in one of the tightest hugs you’d ever experienced certainly did the trick. “Where did you wander off to?” She pulled back slightly so she could look into your eyes, yet her wrists still lingered on your shoulders with the tips of her fingers dancing across the bottom of your jaw.

“I, uh… I- I was with-” You attempted to explain, but your words were interrupted.

“Sorry, Wanda, but I can’t seem to find her anywhere.” A newcomer approached, and you turned to regard her, eyebrows knitting and head tilting slightly with curiosity.

“Geraldine, meet Y/N.” Wanda introduced you with evident pride, her posture radiating confidence. “Y/N, this is Geraldine. She’s new to Westview, too.” Geraldine extended her hand, but you only glanced toward Wanda, eyes pleading for assistance. She chuckled softly, intertwining her arm with yours and pulling you closer. “Thank you for your help, Geraldine, but I think we should be heading home,” Wanda remarked, steering you away before any further conversation could ensue. You felt a mixture of relief and lingering uncertainty.

“You… We should’ve stayed,” you ventured, clearing your throat as Wanda continued to walk down the sidewalk, her arm still linked with yours. “They- You were making… friends. Why not stay… hang out?”

She looked at you for a brief second before saying, “I’m quite tired. You know someone can only withstand so much social time before getting burned out.” She smirked, bumping her shoulder against yours. “Besides, I’d much rather cuddle on the couch with you and get some TV in.”

“Are you… really tired?” you questioned, looking down at the way her arm wrapped through yours. “Are we really going… home?” You picked your head up to meet her gaze, and you had trouble fighting the smirk teasing your lips when you saw the way one of her eyebrows was quirked.

“Why?” Her voice held a hint of playful skepticism. 

“Can… Can we still go to the art gallery?” You straightened your form just slightly, yet it gave you the confidence to continue,  “I- I heard that there’s a… a new piece there!” You flashed her a wide smile, one she always had a hard time saying no to, and she chuckled softly, knowing exactly why you were giving her that grin.

“Of course, Y/N,” she expressed, “but let’s take the long way there, shall we?”

The charming art museum came into view not long after, filling you with overwhelming excitement. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you courteously held the door open, allowing Wanda to step inside before you.

Once again, the museum appeared just as it had before, but that didn’t diminish the sense of awe that washed over you, reminiscent of the very first time you’d set foot in this place. And, as before, Wanda paid no attention to the art on display. After all, why would she when the most beautiful artwork she’d ever bear witness to was holding her hand?

Then she saw it. And, when she did, she couldn’t seem to look away.

The painting presented an enthralling tapestry of colors and forms, orchestrating an enchanting ballet where lines and edges converged and blurred, weaving an almost dreamlike quality into the portrait. At the heart of the canvas stood a solitary figure, radiating an air of enigma and power. Her hair cascaded around her like a fiery halo, and her expressive eyes held a deep emerald hue that seemed to move, capturing the endless ebb and flow of emotions.

The indistinct strokes that shaped her features conveyed an evasive allure, as if she were in an everlasting state of metamorphosis, perpetually shifting between an array of sentiments. Behind her, a blend of hues swirled into existence, employing a rich combination of reds and blacks. This vivid palette created an illusion of chaos and magic, as though the very essence of reality was bending and undulating in response to the figure’s presence.

It was clear that she had momentarily lost her ability to use her lungs, her breath having been caught in her throat the moment she laid eyes on the painting. However, when you gently squeezed her hand - as if you were reminding her that she was actually awake - it brought her back to reality. She quickly glanced at the plate beneath the artwork…

“The Scarlet Sorceress” Y/N Maximoff

…and in an instant, her gaze locked onto yours. “Y/N,” she gasped, her eyes wide with astonishment. “H- How?”

You cleared your throat, feeling a sudden wave of nervousness under her intense gaze. “I- I can’t cook… for you, Wanda,” you stammered as her focus returned to the painting, “but I can… I can paint for you.” Your eyes stayed fixed on the side of her face, noting the subtle part of her lips and the sparkling of her eyes as they remained locked on the artwork as if it were the only thing in the room. “I just- I wanted to… surprise you,” you added quietly, but as she continued to remain silent, your anxiety grew. “Is it… too much?”

“Absolutely not,” she quickly declared, turning her head to focus her gaze on you. “It’s… beautiful, Y/N.” Bringing your intertwined hands up, she pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, causing the anxious knot in your gut to begin to untie. “It’s the best thing anyone has ever done for me.” Her smile illuminated the green hues in her irises, making them even more vibrant. “I love it.”

“I… didn’t name it,” you whispered, and she followed your gaze back to the painting as she pulled you closer to her. “But it… fits.” Your smile nearly matched Wanda’s brightness as the two of you stood there for a while longer, because at that moment, nothing else seemed to matter…

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“I’ve made us some hot chocolate,” Wanda announced as she entered the living room later that night, carefully carrying two steaming mugs topped with overflowing whipped cream. A soft smile played on her lips as she recalled the first time you had tasted the drink, the look on your face when your entire body had relaxed the moment the rich, chocolaty liquid touched your tongue. “Remember when-” Her voice caught in her throat when she spotted you on the couch. Your legs were drawn up to your chest, your arms tightly wrapped around your knees, and your thumb pressing harshly into your scarred palm. She pursed her lips, then placed the cups onto the end table, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong, my dove?”

“A- Agnes.” A tightness formed in her gut as the name left your lips, and she took a step closer to you, her jaw clenched tightly, feeling as if it were nearly impossible to pry it open again. You had filled her in on your little “art heist” with the nosy neighbor on the walk home, yet it only left her mind to race through all the possible scenarios of what might have transpired during the time between. Did Agnes make you feel uncomfortable? Nervous? Did she make you feel scared, or even unsafe? The possibilities seemed endless to Wanda, and she was already planning a warpath to the house to the right- “She… She called you my… wife,” you continued, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Wanda’s lips. Her tension eased, and she continued listening as you spoke about the nameplate at the museum, realizing that Agnes had merely echoed Wanda’s own words toward you. “Is… Is that what… we are?” You looked up at her, seemingly melting into her brilliant green eyes as you softly asked, “Married?”

Wanda felt a sudden wave of nerves wash over her as if she had popped the life-altering question right then and there and was waiting for you to give her an answer. She shifted closer, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of you. Her voice, low and warm, broke the silence. “Is that what you want to be?” she asked gently.

Your response was equally soft, tinged with doubt. “We… don’t have rings… And I- I never… proposed.”

“What if I propose?” Wanda suggested, leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and her chin cradled in her palms. She smiled at you kindly.

“Is… Is that what you… want?” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with hesitation.

She bit her lower lip, her warm gaze locked onto yours, momentarily lost in their depths. Then, she blinked herself back to the present, moving closer until she was perched at the edge of the table. Wanda gently took hold of your wrists, coaxing you out of your curled-up posture. “Y/N Romanoff,” she began, her voice filled with emotion as she enveloped your hands within her own, “will you marry me?” Now she had popped the life-altering question, and she was waiting for you to give her an answer… which felt like forever. It seemed as if you could only manage to stare into her eyes as if you had lost your voice and didn’t know how else to give her a response. She could feel her heart picking up speed in her chest, beginning to thump against her ribcage as it gradually picked up the urgency to escape this tense silence. She was going to be sick, her stomach twisting angrily. She just needed to hear your voice. She didn’t care what the answer was, she just needed you to break the silence…

“I- I do,” you finally said, granting her reprieve as she visibly relaxed.

And then she chuckled softly as she interlaced her fingers with yours. “You’re not supposed to say that yet,” she teased, leaning closer to you, a mischievous smirk playing at her lips. “You’re supposed to wait for the wedding.”

A glint of excitement filled your eyes as you perked up. “Can… Can Nat come? I want her to… walk me down the aisle.” It was impossible to fight at this point, she lost the smile that had stretched her lips, yet you didn’t see it as you were already on your feet, making your way to the map on the wall. She was slow to follow you, watching as you tapped your finger against the new postcard. “She’s… here now,” you claimed, “so… it should take…” Your finger drew away from Spain, tracing a line towards America, but she was quick to catch your hand with hers, clearing her throat with a newfound nervousness.

“Y/N…” She sighed out, rubbing the top of your hand with her thumb. “We should talk about Nat…” She was hesitant to meet your gaze, watching her fingers twirl seamlessly around yours, her stomach twisting as her nerves caught fire. She needed to address the issue, to face it head-on. There was no point in dragging it out any longer. “Dove-”

“I… I know,” you assured in a hushed tone, prompting her to slowly raise her head, meeting your eyes. They held a kindness, a softness, an aura of forgiveness that unraveled the knot in her gut. And your smile, so innocent and just as forgiving, further eased her. “I… She came here and we… we talked.” Wanda’s brows furrowed with curiosity. She tilted her head slightly but remained silent as you went on, “I’m not… sure how she appeared, but… she told me not to… worry about her. That death is just a… a one-way ticket to a distant star.” Your face reflected intense concentration, momentarily distant, before reconnecting with her as you asked, “Is… she right?

Lost in the depths of your eyes for the millionth time, Wanda found solace in the gentle squeeze of your hand. You looked at her with a hopeful expression, waiting for an answer. “She is,” she whispered, nodding solemnly. Using your grip, she tugged you closer, savoring the warmth as your arms instinctively wrapped around her waist. “She got taken away, but it doesn’t mean she’s gone forever.”

Your lips pressed together in contemplation, your narrowed pupils seeming to gaze through her, despite the mere inches that separated your faces. She resisted the temptation to delve into your thoughts, instead patiently waiting for you to express your feelings aloud.

However, the warmth that had been steadily enveloping her began to dissipate when you stepped back, leaving an icy void. It was evident that you struggled to find the right words to express your feelings, and you chewed the inside of your cheek as your thoughts raced without capturing the depths of your emotions. She trailed after you as you slowly moved past her, making your way to the front door and then stepping out into the yard.

“Y/N….” Her words trailed off as you stopped and gazed up at the night sky, your shoulders slumping. She stood beside you, and despite the countless twinkling stars decorating the dark canvas above, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, your fingers wrapping around hers when you felt their presence at your side, seeking solace in her touch. “I- I wanted… to see her.” You exhaled a heavy, soft breath as Wanda tilted her head toward the sky with you. “Just… Just one more time.”

She gently squeezed your hand, sharing the moment of silence with you as you both stared up at the vast expanse of the night sky. The stars above seemed to twinkle with a knowing grace as if they held secrets of the universe. “I understand,” she whispered gently, her voice carrying a soothing tone. She turned her gaze toward you, her eyes reflecting the starlight. “Would you like to stay out here for a while, just the two of us?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you spared another second to gaze up at the starry canvas above. When your eyes returned to meet hers, they shimmered brightly. However, the smile that slowly graced your face contradicted the sadness she had expected. “No,” you spoke softly, gently shaking your head. “We… We have hot chocolate waiting for us. I don’t… want it to get cold.”

Wanda began to speak, her voice laced with concern, but you interrupted her.

“It’s…” Your smile held a touch of melancholy, yet your shoulders relaxed as you turned your head back to the bright dots coloring the night sky. “It’s okay, Wands. This… This was my goodbye.” You punctuated your words with a firm, confident nod, signaling a sense of closure and acceptance that enveloped the both of you like a comforting embrace. You flashed her a smile before being the first one to step away, gently releasing Wanda’s hand as you made your way back into the house.

However, Wanda lingered for a moment longer, releasing a long, low breath as her eyes locked onto the brightest star above her. With a soft smile directed at the beacon, she mouthed the words, “Thank you,” while pressing her palms together in a silent expression of gratitude.

“Wands!” Her name rang out, causing her to turn with a soft, amused laugh as she walked through the door, closing it gently behind her. You were back on the couch, your legs folded comfortably beneath you, cradling one of the mugs of hot chocolate in your hands. “I… Thank you for the… the hot chocolate,” you said, tilting your head back against the couch to look at her from an upside-down perspective. You shot her a small smile, your eyes sparkling vividly.

Observing you closely, she noticed the way you watched her, and her expression became pensive. There was something wrong, a question lingering in her mind. Were you truly okay? She knew the profound significance of Natasha in your life, which was why she had initially chosen not to reveal the truth. Yet, in less than five minutes of stargazing, you appeared to have accepted her death with an unexpected ease. Shouldn’t you be more emotionally affected by the passing of someone you regarded as a mother? How could you seemingly be so composed? Furthermore, you continued to carry on the illusion of her being alive even after discovering the truth. If Wanda hadn’t mustered the courage to reveal the reality, how long would you have maintained that pretense?

She cleared her throat, and your eyes attentively followed her graceful movements until she settled beside you. Sitting up, you reached for the second mug, offering it to her. “We should talk, Y/N,” she asserted, her voice firm yet gentle, as her hands enveloped the cup.

“Am… Am I in trouble?” you asked in a faint tone, your arms lowering to rest your drink in your lap.

“No, my dove,” she assured with a soft laugh, removing a hand from her cup to press her warm palm gently against your cheek. Her heart fluttered with warmth as you leaned into her touch. “I just think we need to talk about Nat.” She sighed, her thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. “It’s going to be a very long time before you see her again, sweetheart.”

Your lips formed a thin line, and she felt her heart tighten when she noticed the hint of tears glistening in your eyes. Your next words were barely a whisper, and she had to strain her ears to hear you, “What if I… forget her, Wanda?”

Her heart swelled with empathy, finally seeing the pain and vulnerability in your face. “You once told me that looking at the stars is gazing into the past,” she reminded you, and you nodded in agreement. “So, whenever you gaze upon the night sky and see her star shining with all its might… it will be as if you’re experiencing those cherished memories with her once more.” Her hand tenderly ascended, her fingertips softly caressing your forehead. “You will never forget her, baby. Not as long as she’s up there.”

She managed to wipe away the tear that had escaped its confinement with her thumb, and your subtle but unmistakable smile warmed her heart. Leaning against her, you allowed her to wrap her arm around you, drawing you closer in a comforting embrace. You rested your head on her shoulder, your gaze fixed on your untouched drink. “I’m… I’m going to miss her… forever,” you confessed softly.

“I know, love,” Wanda whispered. “I’m going to miss her, too.”

“Wands,” you murmured. She responded with a low hum, gently rubbing your arm as you took slow breaths. “I… I want to keep… her name.” A smile tugged at her lips as she leaned her cheek against the top of your head. “Is… Is that okay?”

“Of course, my dove,” she assured quietly. 

“Can you… Can you fix another problem?” A mischievous glint sparkled in your eyes as you tilted your chin up to meet her gaze. “You’re my wife” - Wanda’s heart skipped a beat at the word, excitement fluttering in her stomach as she eagerly awaited your next words - “but… but we don’t… We need… rings, Wands.”

She laughed softly, a proud grin dancing on her lips as you picked up your left arm to showcase your bare finger. In response, she positioned her hand next to yours. “I can certainly fix that,” she declared. With a wave of her wrist and a shimmer of scarlet light, your once-bare finger was now adorned with a magnificent band. “A beautiful ring for my beautiful wife.” Your chuckle filled her body with warmth as you looked up to meet her gaze once more, but instead of saying something, you inched forward to bring your lips against hers.

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Each night, darkness and silence enveloped the room as bedtime approached. You and Wanda would assume your familiar sleeping positions - she always insists on resting her head on your chest - and she would gradually succumb to slumber, guided by the rhythmic thump of your heart. Meanwhile, you counted the seconds, matching them with her gentle breaths, until you, too, surrendered to the world of unconsciousness. However, it wasn’t the restful slumber most experienced; instead, it was a void of dreams, a peaceful yet empty serenity…

But tonight was different. Your descent into that bottomless abyss was extremely short-lived, interrupted by an unfamiliar yet unmistakable sound, jolting you awake. Your eyes darted around the room, quickly detecting the absence of Wanda on her side of the bed. Panic gripped you for a moment before you threw off the blankets, eager to find the source of the distress. Peeking around the door of the bathroom, your brows furrowed deeply with concern, you found your wife on the floor, clutching the toilet bowl as if it were her lifeline.

“Wands?” You cautiously moved to stand in the doorway, but she quickly raised her hand, signaling you to stay put. You paused, nervously pressing your thumb against your palm as you watched her heave into the toilet. “Are… Are you okay?”

She drew in a deep breath, resting her cheek against her arm for a moment before slowly regaining her composure enough to rise to her feet. Stepping over to the sink, she turned on the faucet, and you remained silent as she washed her hands. “I’ll be fine, dove,” she reassured you in a soft voice, barely audible over the rushing water. “I think it’s just a stomach bug.” 

She stood up straight, freezing when she noticed you were no longer in the doorway. Frowning with confusion, she took a step toward the hallway and gasped when she almost collided with you when you turned the corner back into the bathroom. Her laughter was soft, and she placed a hand over her heart while the other gently rested on your shoulder. “I- I’m sorry,” you whispered, your face briefly showing guilt before a smile lit it up. “I… I got you a ginger ale.” With a cup in hand filled with fizzy soda, you extended it toward her. “It almost always helped when… I get an upset tummy.”

“Thank you, my love,” she expressed, her fingers curling around the cool glass. “You should go back to bed. I’ll be okay, I promise.” She placed her free hand gently against your cheek in case her words weren’t enough, but the frown on your face made her tilt her head in curiosity. “What’s wrong?”

You looked away, focusing on your thumb tracing your scar. In a hushed tone, you confessed, “I don’t… I don’t like going to sleep.” She sighed, her eyes softening with sympathy as she placed her drink on the sink.

“Why not, baby?” She added her second hand to your other cheek when it was clear you were hesitating, gently guiding your head up until your eyes met hers. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” You nodded in response. “Why don’t you like sleeping?”

You chewed your bottom lip, taking a moment to gather yourself while the greens in her eyes offered you comfort. The warmth radiating from her fingertips encouraged you to share your feelings. “I… When I… close my eyes now,” you began, your voice barely more than a breath in the quiet room, “I don’t see you… anymore. It’s just… darkness.” Your hands moved to cover hers. “I… miss dreaming.” Wanda regarded you with a soft, understanding gaze. “It feels more like I’m sitting in a… in a dark room instead of sleeping. I… I'm always tired.”

“How long has this been going on, Y/N?” she inquired, her tone tender and empathetic. Her thumbs glided smoothly across your cheeks, and you found yourself melting further into her touch. “You know I could have helped you.”

“I- I know,” you replied, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. You offered her a soft yet melancholic smile. “I just… I’ve been enjoying sleeping with… you.” Then your eyes widened, and Wanda burst into laughter, her amusement contagious as you stammered to clarify, “Not- Not like that. I- I mean… I do en- enjoy sleeping with you… in that way, b- but in this case, I…” Your expression shifted to a frown, your bottom lip jutting out, a telltale sign that you felt like you’d messed something up.

“It’s alright, my love,” she comforted, her hands sliding down to grip the nape of your neck, a smile growing on her face, unstoppable and unhidden. Leaning closer, her lips brushed across your earlobe, sending a wave of shivers down your spine as she whispered, “I enjoy sleeping with you as well.” Pulling away, she left a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. But her mischievous grin was cut short as waves of nausea hit her, sending her rushing back to the toilet.

You snapped out of your stupor, moving to her side, a hand on her back as you gently held her hair out of the way. “Did you eat… something?” you asked quietly when her convulses paused. “I… I noticed that the milk… went bad.”

She sat up a bit, looking over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “And when did you notice that?” she returned, but you only managed to send her a sheepish smile in response before she returned to the retching.

You had lost track of the time the two of you spent in the bathroom, but the sun was high in the sky by the time Wanda’s sickness seemed to ease a bit, allowing you to finally persuade her to lie down. Your nerves were palpable; taking care of someone when they were sick was uncharted territory for you. Natasha had always been the one to care for you when you fell ill, and she consistently downplayed her own illnesses, refusing your attempts to return the favor. In an attempt to distract your anxious mind and keep busy while sleep remained elusive, you found yourself rummaging through the refrigerator, searching for expired foods to dispose of.

The milk was the first to go.

Your distraction with reading expiration labels had been so effective that you hadn’t noticed the back door open, let alone any knocks, if they had occurred at all. You turned around, attempting to place an expired bottle of salad dressing onto the kitchen island when you suddenly spotted Agnes standing right behind you. Your heart jumped in your throat at the unexpected sight of your neighbor.

“Sorry, dear,” Agnes chuckled. “I’ve been told I can be awfully quiet on my feet!” She shifted to the side, allowing you to place the bottle down, and cast a curious eye over the assortment of perishables on the counter as you returned to the fridge. “Am I interrupting some spring cleaning?”

Your brows furrowed, and you turned to face her again. “It’s… It’s not spring.” Then, shaking your head, you stepped closer to her, closing the fridge door behind you. “Wanda. She’s not… feeling well.” Your lips pressed together as you glanced at the food, uncertain about what to do now that you’d isolated it. “I… I don’t know how to help.” Meeting Agnes’s gaze, you asked, “Y- Have you ever… taken care of someone with a… a bug?”

She laughed lightly, waving her hand as if the question was absurd. And, to be honest, it kind of was. “Of course,” she replied. “Ralph always manages to catch the latest stomach bug going around.” She cupped her hand around the side of her mouth and added with a wink, “Sometimes I’m pretty sure he’s even patient zero, if you catch my drift.”

You perked up, eyes widening with hope. “Wh- What can I do… to help Wanda?”

“Well,” Agnes mused, “I know chicken noodle soup does wonders.” She offered a reassuring smile, but her expression turned quizzical when she noticed you seemed a bit hesitant.

“I… I’m not exactly a… skilled cook,” you confessed, your gaze drifting to the battered smoke detector that had been moved to the table, a reminder of your last culinary adventure. She followed your gaze and let out a sympathetic sigh, placing her hands on her hips as she turned her attention back to you. “Is… Is there something else I can… do? Maybe I… I can run to the store a- and buy it-”

“I can teach you,” she offered with a broad grin. “Trust me, dear, it’s going to make her feel so much better knowing it came from you and not some store.” Her gaze shifted back to the array of food on your counter. “We can use some ingredients from my house. Let me go get them, and I’ll be right back.” She playfully winked at you before turning on her heels and heading out.

She wasn’t sure how long she had drifted into sleep, but the sun still painted a glow through the sliver in the curtains when Wanda opened her eyes. Inhaling deeply, one hand resting on her upset stomach, she stretched the other across the bed. Turning her head, she noted your absence, prompting her to sit up and strain her ears. Muffled voices reached her, guiding her to rise and follow the source of the commotion.

“Exactly like that, dear!” Agnes’s voice, unusually enthusiastic, was more animated than Wanda had ever heard it. Apparently, the neighbor could be even more energetic. “Now, let’s get that chicken into the broth.”

Turning the corner into the kitchen, Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, a soft and slightly confused smile gracing her features as she observed you with curiosity. You were handling a bowl of chicken with deliberate caution, slowly pouring the contents into a pot of bubbling broth. “What’s going on here?” Wanda’s voice broke through your focus, and your eyes snapped to meet hers. It was as if you’d been caught in the act of doing something you’re not supposed to be doing, and the bowl you were holding slipped through your fingers, making a metallic sound as it hit the counter before spinning to the ground. A flush of red spread across your cheeks, and you cleared your throat.

“Y- You…” You huffed. “I- I was making you chicken noodle soup be- because you’re sick and Agnes… She said that it… helps.” Your voice wavered, and the confused smile on Wanda’s face transformed into a bright grin. The tension in your muscles visibly eased when she laughed softly.

“We did lose most of the chicken, dear,” Agnes claimed with a downward glance towards the mess at her feet, “so now it’s just noodle soup.” Your hand reached for a towel resting on the counter, seemingly coinciding with Agnes’s attempt. The tension in the room seemed to swallow you when your fingers brushed against hers, causing a noticeable stiffness in your muscles. That familiar perplexing warmth flowed through you, and it was only when Wanda’s voice reached your ears that you managed to release yourself from the unintentional discomfort once again.

“Thank you, baby,” she said, moving further into the room. “It smells delicious.” You had to look away to hide the blush that burned your face.

Turning to Wanda, Agnes sized her up with an assessing look. “How’re you feeling, Wanda? Y/N told me all about your morning adventures!”

As the two women chatted, you knelt down to address the spill. Their conversation formed a comforting backdrop as you efficiently scooped the chicken back into the bowl and stood up, placing it aside. Gazing into the simmering pot, you pondered if this simple remedy would suffice. It wasn’t a permanent solution, you knew that, but you hoped it might provide Wanda some relief, easing her nausea. Catching a bug was unpleasant, and it frustrated you that you couldn’t do more for her.

The ladies’ talk returned more prominently to your awareness, Agnes’s next words snapping your attention to them. “Oh, honey. You’re not sick.” Frozen, confusion etched across your face like a painting, you locked eyes with Wanda. There was no doubt she was! You held her hair back while she was- “You’re expecting! Congratulations.” Applause echoed through the room, but your mind struggled to process the revelation while your gaze dropped to your fingers as if they were magic, eyebrows knitted together tightly. Could that even be possible?

“Surely I’m not pregnant, Agnes!” Wanda scoffed, shaking her head. “It’s-” The abrupt pause in her sentence drew your attention back, and as you looked at your wife, you noticed her staring at her stomach. Following her gaze, you realized Agnes was right. The small bump that had formed under Wanda’s shirt attested to that. Your heart started to burn. Was this what a heart attack felt like? “Could that even be possible?” Wanda echoed your previous thought in a faint tone.

Whatever Agnes said to Wanda only became more background noise as your mind raced. You hadn’t received the most ideal education when you were younger, but you weren’t ignorant about the basics of human reproduction. You and Wanda? Well, that’s definitely not how that works. However, the evidence was undeniable. The sudden morning sickness, now coupled with the noticeable bump you had somehow overlooked until now, painted a vivid clear picture. Wanda was pregnant - a little bundle of joy was on the way, a child that would be part of both her and you. A newborn. Panic set in. How were you going to take care of a baby when you struggled to care for Wanda, an adult? A child would need much more, unable to do things for themselves. This wasn’t something you had ever thought of before. Children? You and Wanda had just decided to get married a few days ago. Children? You’re not ready. Would you ever be ready? What’s going to happen when the baby arrives? You struggled to talk confidently, would your child pick up on that? Would your child pick up on your other traits? You became uncomfortable with physical contact. Would you be able to pick up your child? You had gotten accustomed to Wanda’s touch, would you do the same for your child? You sure are thinking your child a lot. Because that’s what this was going to be. Your child. Your child. Your-

“Dove.” Wanda’s voice was a soft murmur, and the feel of her breath caressing the side of your neck caused you to snap out of the whirlwind of your thoughts. You turned, finding her unexpectedly close. Her green eyes shimmered with concern, a faint shine highlighting the contours of her face. It was a familiar glow, one you hadn’t seen in what felt like ages. You dropped your gaze to see the yellow hue matching the brilliance of the sun coloring your veins, enveloping your arms. It wasn’t a heart attack. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, her fingers leaving goosebumps as they gently traced your cheeks. “Take deep breaths.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, seeking release. As you looked back into her eyes, your nose tingled, the yellow glow only intensifying. “Wands…” you choked, shaking your head subtly, unable to tear your gaze away from her. “I- I can’t… I-” Your eyelids squeezed close tightly.

“Listen to me,” she urged, her palms tenderly cradling your face. Her touch worked like a tranquilizing agent, pacifying the chaotic thoughts in your mind. “We’re going to get through this together, you hear me? Just the two of us.” She rested her forehead against yours, your noses lightly grazing. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself. You never have to face anything alone, my dove. Not as long as I’m here. And I’m here to stay.” Your eyes fluttered open, locking with hers as she teased with a playful smirk, “You’re stuck with me.”

You nodded, finally feeling the grip of panic loosening as her hands moved down to your shoulders. Her fingers intertwined behind your neck, and the yellow glow in your veins gradually faded. Your racing heart slowed, and you sniffed harshly. “T- Three.”

“What?” She furrowed her brows slightly, a hint of confusion in her expression as she pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, trying to decipher the meaning of the singular word before you voiced the explanation out loud.

You rested a hand against her stomach, inhaling deeply. “Just… Just the… three of us.”

In that moment, an overwhelming wave of emotions engulfed Wanda - joy, pride, excitement, and, at its core, love, all flooded her entire being. Leaning in, she captured your lips with hers in a tender, passionate kiss. It felt as if this kiss was imprinting the moment, sealing your future. She realized now she needed you as much as you needed her, and the two of you were going to embark on the journey of raising this child. Together. And she wouldn’t change that for the world.

“The doctor’s here.” Agnes’s voice cut through the air before she strolled into the room. You instinctively distanced yourself from Wanda, a flush of red coloring your cheeks. Agnes eyed the two of you, folding her arms with a knowing smirk. “Didn’t realize I was interrupting a celebration, dears.”

“Doctor…?” You furrowed your brows, sharing a glance with Wanda, who took your fingers into her hand to give them a gentle squeeze.

“It’s just a precaution, dove,” she reassured softly. “We need to make sure the baby’s okay.” Your lips pursed, nodding in understanding. Wanda guided you into the living room, and a glance at the doctor left your heart racing. If she weren’t tugging you, you would’ve been frozen at the doorway.

“I’ll give you three some privacy,” Agnes declared, lingering in the kitchen. “Just holler if you need anything!”

Wanda settled onto the couch, drawing you down beside her as the doctor delved into his bag, retrieving his stethoscope. Her grasp on your hand remained steadfast, sensing both your unease and the unconscious desire to fidget.

As the doctor pressed the instrument against Wanda’s belly, your breath caught, and a surge of nervous questions flooded your mind. Why were you so anxious? What was the source of this nervous energy? Were you more afraid of the possibility of a baby or the absence of one? The idea of a mistake crossed your mind. If Wanda wasn’t pregnant, she would be devastated. Her excitement at the notion was unmistakable. But how about you? Just five minutes ago, the news didn’t excite you. No, they made you panic. Had your feelings changed so swiftly? Were you… excited now? A baby - Wanda’s and yours.

A small smile tugged at your lips at the thought.

“Yep, definitely pregnant,” the doctor confirmed, and you felt a surge of… relief. Your smile grew as you gazed down at your intertwined hands.

“We pretty much guessed that,” Wanda commented. “It’s just taken us by surprise. It’s sudden. Overnight, practically.” You glanced at her, a slight furrow in your brows at her unexpected nervousness. Was she not ecstatic earlier? “How… How does this even happen?”

The doctor looked between the two of you as if contemplating the complexity of the situation himself. He then broke into a wide smile, attempting a light-hearted approach. “You see, when two people love each other very much-” He halted his joke mid-sentence, knowing how impossible it was, and straightened his form to place his hands on his hips. “You’re about four months along, right?” Wanda nodded, though you absentmindedly shook your head dubiously… until she sent you a look, causing you to switch your doubt to agreement. “I thought so. At this time, the fetus is about the size of a pear.”

You cleared your throat, leaning forward. You had to ignore the doctor’s stare, focusing on the feeling of Wanda’s fingers still interlocked with yours to say, “Wh- What… size would it be at, uh… twelve hours?”

“Pardon?” He smiled, hesitating. “Twelve hours?”

Wanda laughed lightly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it to pat your knee. You looked at her with curiosity as she said, “She’s just concerned.”

“Every new mother-to-be gets nervous,” the doctor claimed happily. “Don’t worry; that feeling will go away when you look your newborn in the eye!” He picked up his bag.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you see the doctor out?” Wanda’s eyes met yours, and it took you a moment to process her words before you blinked yourself out of her hypnotizing gaze, standing up. As you walked away with the doctor, Wanda’s face lit up with a smile, and she rose from the couch, her hands gently caressing her belly as she made her way toward the kitchen.

“It’s a stroke of luck you caught me in time,” he claimed as the two of you stepped out onto the porch. You looked away from him as he stopped to turn to you, eyes landing on the neighbor trimming his edges with curiosity. “I’m taking the wife on vacation this afternoon.” You watched him - you were pretty sure his name was Herb - as he ran his trimmers across the hedges. “Oh! This should be of great use for you.” You looked back at the doctor in time to see him reach into his bag, pulling out a book with an animated picture of a stork on it. You slowly accepted the gift. “It has all the answers to everything you need to know about being a parent. Maybe even help you with those nerves a bit.” He waved his fingers at you as he started to walk away, yet your eyes were too focused on the book to notice. “I’m off to Bermuda!”

Your attention returned to the neighbor, his wide smile contrasting the odd scene of him driving the hedge trimmers through the wall. Stepping backward, the book clutched in your hands, you closed the door before turning around. “Hey… Wands? Our… neigh-” Wanda pivoted to face you, your voice catching in your throat as you noticed her expanded belly. “You… You got… bigger?”

“Did I?” She looked down as you approached slowly. “It’s kind of hard to tell from this angle.” Her hands cradled her stomach as she picked her head up to meet your gaze, her eyes sparkling brightly as you stopped in front of her. “I have a surprise for you!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “Was… Was the pregnancy not the… surprise?” She rolled her eyes with a playful smirk, bringing your wrist in a gentle grip, and guided you to the room off to the side.

The room off the living room was a familiar mystery, a door you’d seen countless times but never put much thought into it. It seemed like just another storage space or perhaps unused territory. Until now. The assortment of wood, varied in shapes and colors, drew your attention immediately. A lone rocking chair sat to the side, and the walls were adorned in cheerful, childlike paint. It begged the question - how did this room come into existence? The pregnancy revelation had been mere moments ago, so how had Wanda managed to set up this nursery so quick?

“Sit down.” Wanda’s directive wasn’t optional, and you found yourself complying. Seeking comfort in the rocking chair, you observed as Wanda worked her magic, fingers wiggling to deftly assemble the pieces of wood into a crib. Your thoughts shifted from questioning the room’s origin to wondering where all this baby furniture had come from. It’s not like you had a dismantled crib lying around… did you?

Your gaze dropped to the book in your hands, lips pressed together in contemplation as you opened it.

“What does the book say?” Wanda’s soothing voice cut through your thoughts, prompting you to lift your head and meet her warm eyes. Her smile was soft, giving no hint of concern. She seemed genuinely happy about this whole parenting journey, and it left you grappling with the enormity of it all.

“You’re, um…” Your eyes flickered back to the book, scanning the page you’d opened to. “Morning… sickness.”

“We’ve already dealt with that stage,” Wanda breathed out, a soft laugh woven into her voice. With a casual wave of her hand, decorations levitated about the crib. “What else?”

“Uh, m- mood swings,” you mentioned, raising an eyebrow. “Aching back and… and feet.” Glancing back up at her, you swiftly rose from your seat. “Do… Do you hurt?” You gestured toward the rocking chair, then placed a firm hand on its back to halt any inadvertent rocking. “You shou- Sit down.”

Wanda dismissed your concern - and your attempt at being assertive - with a shake of her head. “Don’t be silly, dove. All I feel is excitement!” Her wide grin soon dimmed, forming an ‘O’ of shock as her gaze dropped to her belly.

“Wh- What? What’s wrong?” You took a tentative step toward her, then redirected your attention to the book, rapidly flipping through the pages. The doctor had claimed all the answers, but how were you supposed to find them if you didn’t even know the right questions?

“Y/N, sweetheart…” Wanda’s fingers delicately wrapped around your wrist, halting your quest through the book. Your body melted at her touch as she drew you closer and closer, until your palm pressed against her belly. A gasp caught in your throat as you felt the baby’s kick against your hand, your eyes wide… and smile even wider.

You leaned in closer to her, the tip of your nose gently brushing against the fabric concealing the bump of her stomach. “D- Do it again,” you whispered, laughing excitedly when you felt the push against you once more.

“He’s certainly a mama’s boy,” Wanda murmured softly, her eyes filled with a radiant warmth as you sank to your knees. The book lay forgotten on the floor as you pressed your other hand against her, and Wanda sensed a soothing calmness wash over her, seeing the joy she felt mirrored on your face. No more traces of concern or anxiety hiding in the lines around your eyes; just pure, unadulterated happiness.

“What… What does it… feel like to you?” You lifted your gaze to meet hers over the bump.

“It’s a… strange sensation,” she admitted, gently moving her hands to cover yours. “It’s kind of fluttery.” She chuckled, and as her laughter filled the room, the butterfly mobile hanging above the crib came to life, wings flapping in a graceful dance to the melodic sound emanating from Wanda. “Oh, did I do that?” With a sense of wonder, you eased one of your hands from beneath Wanda’s to hold a finger up, marveling at the beautiful insect as it perched lightly on you. Moving with delicate care, you placed the butterfly on top of Wanda’s belly, a proud and tender smile gracing your face.

“She’s… She’s going to be… gentle,” you murmured, meeting her gaze once more, “like you, Wands. A… butterfly.”

“She?” Wanda watched as you rose to your feet, briskly rubbing your hands together.

“I… I’m hoping for a… a girl,” you confessed sheepishly. “We can… name her after Nat. Is… that okay?”

Wanda reached up, the tips of her fingers delicately tracing the contours of your forehead and down your cheek. “We can definitely do that,” she assured with a tender smile, “but what if we get a boy?”

Your lips pursed together briefly before saying, “Wh- What would you… name him?”

She pondered for a moment, then leaned forward. “Tommy,” she answered. “A nice, classic, all-American name.”

“T- Tommy.” She felt her heart flutter as the name rolled off of your tongue. And she could’ve sworn she had flat-lined when you smiled after taking a moment to process it. “I… I like it.”

“But you’re still hoping for a girl,” Wanda pointed out, and you nodded unashamed, a broad grin of pride on your face as you walked out of the room with your head held high, causing Wanda to chuckle happily.

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“Wands.” She lifted her head at the sound of your voice, noticing you standing in the doorway of the kitchen, your nose buried in that book in your hands. A small smile played on her lips as she wiped her hands onto a towel, humming a response. “A- Are you going to the… bakery?” you inquired, picking your head up to meet her gaze as you stepped further into the room.

She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, tilting her head with a hint of confusion. “No?” A light chuckle accompanied her answer. “Why would I go to the bakery?”

You grinned, “Because you… you have a bun in the… oven.” Her soft laughter filled the air, a sound that brought a flutter to your gut as you moved closer. Placing the book onto the counter, you leaned against it. “Do you need… help? Are you… hungry? The book says that pregnant women get… weird cravings.”

“I’m okay, dove,” she assured lightly, smiling warmly as she reached over to stroke a thumb across your cheek. “I’ll tell you what, though. How about I make us some popcorn, and we can catch up on some-” Suddenly, she grasped her belly, a gasp escaping her lips. You straightened up, eyebrows furrowing with concern as you reached out to support her.

“Wands?”

“Does your book say anything about this?” she asked, gripping the edge of the counter. “It’s not painful, but it’s odd.” Panic flickered in her eyes, her worry evident.

Before you can say anything, the lights in the room began to flicker. The microwave behind you beeped rapidly, and the smell of popcorn filled the air. The kitchen faucet started to run, water building up in the sink and pouring over the edge onto the floor. Despite everything happening around you, your focus remained on your wife. You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She watched you closely and followed your lead, grabbing your hand as the two of you took a moment to breathe.

The easing of contractions was evident as the vice-like grip she had on you gradually loosened. Simultaneously, the appliances around you ceased their malfunctioning, returning to their off state as she let out a deep exhale. A moment of relief passed, and her eyebrows twitched, a wide smile gracing her lips as she cleared her throat.

“How’d you do that?” she questioned.

“B- Braxton Hicks. Fake… False labor. I read it- The book says it can help with your… breathing exercises.”

But she shook her head, and your gaze turned into confusion. “How’d you manage to stay so calm,” she chuckled lightly. “That was… pretty impressive.”

You shrugged sheepishly, feeling you lose yourself in her shining emerald eyes. “I just… I saw you panicking and… and I wanted to help.” You placed another hand over hers, relishing in the comfort her touch brings to your palms. “We’re in this together… you and me. So… at least one of us has to stay… calm and think straight.” You released her, sending her a tender smile as you brought her face between your hands. “It was… It was my turn.” She blew out a soft sigh, and your small grin grew as you felt her breath caress your chin like a delicate breeze. The way your eyes lit up, emitting a cozy warmth no fire could replicate, she knew what needed to be said…

“Y/N-” Her voice caught, noticing the small yawn you tried to conceal. Your exhaustion was now unmistakable, reflected in the weariness coloring your eyes. She pressed her lips together, exhaling softly before a small smile graced her face. “You need sleep.” Bewilderment took over your expression, evident in the deep furrow of your eyebrows. She laughed, placing her hands over yours to gently pull them away.

“Wands-”

“Come on.” With her fingers wrapped around yours, she led you out of the kitchen and into the living room. With each step, the stress that had built up over the day seemed to gradually evaporate into a sense of relaxation.

Sitting on the couch, she gently led you to lie down, guiding you effortlessly. Your head found a comfortable spot on her lap, and as you breathed deeply, content, you looked up into her soft, warm eyes. Her fingernails traced soothing patterns across your forehead, lulling you into a deeper tranquility. “There’s…” You chewed the inside of your cheek, your thoughts momentarily scattered as if erased by the magic of her gaze. “There’s no… point,” you whispered.

“Trust me, baby,” her tone as gentle as her gaze. “Just try.” You sighed softly, adjusting your position before allowing your eyes to flutter closed. Oblivious to the crimson wisps of smoke disappearing into your skin, and with Wanda’s soft hums reaching your ears, you felt yourself drift away into the void of dreams… only, it wasn’t quite so empty anymore.

Wanda always found solace in watching your peaceful slumber, even if it did sound a bit creepy. In sleep, you weren’t burdened by the conscious efforts you made while awake. The realm of dreams she had opened for you offered a sanctuary where you could be entirely yourself, free from the shadows of anxiety that haunted your waking moments. It was a place where the exhausting overthinking ceased, and you could simply let go.

She cherished this moment, yearning for it to stretch into eternity. The gentle caresses of her nails against your forehead, the soothing hums that filled the air - she didn’t want to stop any of it. Above all, she dreaded the mere thought of you waking up, shattering this serene intermission. So delightful. So calming. So… soothing…

An elusive shift unfolded, as she shut her eyes for what she thought was a brief moment, only to open them to a radiant light. It appeared she had slept through the night and into the early morning, with the rays of sunshine illuminating the room. The weight on her lap almost tempted her back into slumber. As her hand, nestled in the crook of your collarbone, meandered downward, she jolted awake when her fingers met an unexpected searing heat.

Wait… heat?

Her eyes shifted downward, and her heart surged into her throat. The luminous glow she had mistaken for daylight was emanating from you. The warm, yellow light gently bathed the room, casting a surreal ambiance that mimicked the morning sun perfectly. Wanda’s concern deepened as she focused on your sleeping form, realizing that something potentially worrying was unfolding right beneath her.

Your face contorted with subtle twitches, and your eyes moved restlessly beneath your closed lids. It hadn’t occurred to Wanda until now that her ability to unlock the dream realm didn’t necessarily shield you from unsettling nightmares. After all, nightmares were dreams as well. Her protective instincts surged, and she gently rested a hand against your cheek, whispering your name with a mix of worry and care.

“Y/N.” Her voice was a hushed murmur.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the soft glow surrounding you seemed to dim as you blinked, evidently disoriented. Confusion etched your expression as you gazed up at Wanda, furrowing your brows in bewilderment. Scanning the room as if trying to piece together where you were, your thoughts ran rampant, quietly grappling to make sense of the situation.

“Y/N?” Wanda’s hands instinctively retreated as you sat up, confusion lingering on your features as you rose to your feet. She mirrored your movements, tension tightly wrapping around her heart as she observed the careful way your eyes traced the protective placement of her hands around her belly. “Dove.”

In an instant, your grin surfaced. The uncertainty that had clouded your face vanished as if it had never existed. Your eyes sparkled with a newfound light, your smile radiated warmth, and your shoulders relaxed. Nevertheless, Wanda’s unease lingered, and she couldn’t divert her curious gaze from you.

“Are you… Are you hungry?” You perked up, but she wasn’t oblivious to the glimmer of concern in your eyes. “I… I can make you a sandwich.” Without waiting for her response, you swiftly made your way to the kitchen. But just as you reached the doorway, you heard her gasp from behind. “Wands?” You turned, your hands nervously rubbing together. “Wh- What is it?”

“This is a real one,” she expressed.

“A- Already?” 

“Y/N.”

“Wands, I… I thought there was more… more time.” Panic started to seize your eyes, your arms once again taking on that vibrant yellow glow. She slowly guided you into doing some calming breathing exercises, moving closer to take your hands in hers.

You followed her lead, taking deep breaths until the glowing subsided. “Better,” she whispered.

“What- Should I get the… doctor?”

Before she could answer, thunder violently shook the house, and the room was suddenly drenched in rain. She met your wide-eyed gaze and offered you the softest smile you’d ever seen in such an intense moment. “I’m pretty sure my water just broke, dove, so I do believe it’s time to get the doctor.”

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You found yourself rooted at the front door, almost paralyzed by the sudden realism. It had all happened so quickly. Everything. It was like blinking and finding yourself here. How could you have seen this one coming? Confined within the walls of a HYDRA lab, never daring to dream of a life beyond. And then, out of nowhere, fate had found you. Like a lost child at a local flea market, you were scooped up by a patient woman and a suspicious man. It felt like just yesterday. As if you had only just tasted your first French fry. As if you had witnessed the sunset for the first time. And now… here you were, listening to the cries of a newborn and watching your wife cradle the other one. Yes, the other one.

Twins. Could you believe it?

“Dove.” You snapped out of your daze at the sound of Wanda’s voice, her soft smile a balm to your racing thoughts. “Come meet your boys.” It shouldn’t have caught you off guard with how many times you had thought it, but it did. Your boys. Hearing it out loud from someone else made it different. It made everything more real, more tangible, in a way that your own thoughts hadn’t.

Your steps were hesitant, slow, as if you were walking into a moment you’d long been preparing for (which, in reality, was only two days). The moment to meet one of your children face to face, to let the panic subside, just as the doctor had assured you…

But as you reached the bassinet, as you looked into the eyes of your baby, that panic which had become your unwanted companion seemed to intensify. His tiny hands appeared to reach out for you, and you found yourself frozen once more. Your fists clenched, your jaw locked. What if holding your own child triggered an uncontrollable overload? The idea of putting your children in danger was unthinkable. How could you protect them when you were the weapon?

Wanda was suddenly next to you, the other baby still cradled in her arms, her focus fixed on the one lying in wait in the bassinet before you. “Y/N-”

“I- I- I- I… can’t.” Disappointment, shame, and guilt, all flooded through you as you shook your head adamantly, tears pricking your eyes, tugged at your nose, and painted your cheeks a deep shade of red. Wanda’s gaze snapped onto you, her irises soft with understanding, but you were walking away long before she could speak a word.

You retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a resounding click, then leaned against the sink and stared down at the faucet. What were you doing? You were allowing your fear of potential overloads to keep you from even attempting to hold your newborn child. You had mastered your control over your powers, hadn’t you? …hadn’t you? Were you willing to test that?

A soft knock echoed through the room, and you lifted your gaze to meet your reflection in the mirror. Your complexion appeared pale, bearing a bluish hue. A chilling sensation seemed to wrap around your body. It suddenly felt as if you couldn’t breathe as you slowly lowered your gaze, an eerie emptiness occupied the hole in your chest where your heart should be.

A hand gently landed on your shoulder, pulling you out of whatever nightmare you had fallen into. In the mirror, your image reverted to your usual self with your heart intact. “Y/N?” You met her reflection’s eyes for a fleeting second before you pivoted to face her. You cleared your throat, mustered a half-smile, and focused. “Did you hear what I said?” She regarded you with a hint of skepticism as you shook your head. “I know physical contact makes you uncomfortable, but there are other ways to express your love for them.”

“Like… what?”

“Well,” she hummed, gently taking your hand and directing you out of the bathroom, leading you on a leisurely stroll back to the living room, “what did you do with the boys at the compound?”

Furrowing your brows, you concentrated on her question, and she chuckled softly as she noticed your struggle to give her a response.

“You spent time with Tony in his lab.” You always sensed a hint of loneliness in Tony. You even picked up a thing or two from him since he did all of the talking. “You listened to Clint gush about his family all the time.” Learning more about Clint’s family and the gleam in his eyes when he spoke about them always brought a smile to your face. “You lightened Steve’s load by going through all the mission reports.” Not being on the team gave you a glimpse of the tremendous responsibility Steve carried as the captain. You thought helping him by taking on some of the mission reports would make his life a bit easier. “You’d bring Bruce a coffee whenever he worked late.” Bruce often got lost in his work, and though you only ever had one-way conversations with him - much like the others - you recognized that he couldn’t be pulled away from it. Bringing him coffee was your way of offering support. “You even made everybody your delicious peanut butter sandwiches when they returned from a mission.” They were always too exhausted to make something themselves, and you’d noticed just how hungry Natasha was after an assignment. You presumed the rest of the team felt the same.

With a hint of confusion, you looked at her. “What does… that have to do with anything?”

“Those are all ways to express affection without physical touch, Y/N, because you showed you cared enough to go out of your way to be there.” She guided you to stand in front of the bassinets, where the boys slept peacefully. “You don’t need to hold them… You just need to be there for them.”

“I… I can do that,” you expressed firmly, nodding confidently. Wanda smiled softly, entwining her arm with yours and drawing you close. “I’m sorry I… missed the birth. I was trying to find the… doctor, but he was already…”

“It’s okay, my dove. You didn’t miss anything exciting,” she assured with a soft chuckle, stepping back to sit on the couch, pulling you down next to her. “Just a lot of screaming and crying. Mostly from me.” You grinned, laughing lightly as she rested her head on your shoulder.

“How did you… do it by yourself?” You nestled your cheek against the top of her head, and she inhaled deeply. 

“Geraldine helped me.” It was said automatically, and you felt her hold on your arm tense very briefly before she added, “It’s a shame she had somewhere to be, though. You would think you’d want to spend a bit more time with the babies you helped deliver.”

You stared at the two bassinets sitting in front of you, holding your twin boys. “I didn’t… expect two.”

“We still need to name the other one,” she pointed out, picking her head up to look at you, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes off of the cradles. “I know you were hoping for a girl, but-”

“W… William.” You sniffled as you finally turned to meet her gaze, showing her the way your eyes glistened with fresh tears. You smiled at her, but she wasn’t oblivious to the sorrow you were trying to hide in that grin. “After my first… friend.” Her lips pursed together tightly as memories resurfaced.

“Tommy and Billy.” She settled back on the couch, leaning her head against the cushion. “I don’t think there’s a better pair of names than that.”

Your smile broadened, the earlier sadness she had noticed now replaced by genuine happiness. “Wanda and… Y/N.” She tilted her chin to look at you to see a teasing glint in your eyes. “A… A close second… right?”

She chuckled lightly, the melodious sound warming the room. “You’re adorable,” she whispered. Leaning closer, your noses brushed, and your lips hover tantalizingly close. But the sudden cries of the babies broke the moment. Wanda let out a sigh, still smiling, and rose to attend to their needs.

You followed her, standing by her side as she scooped one of the babies in her arms, swaying gently as she held him against her chest. You cleared your throat, looking away from Wanda to lean over the bassinet in an effort to soothe the other little one, but your attempt at rocking the cradle just seemed to make it worse as his wails only grew louder in unison with his brother.

Wanda tried everything in her repertoire to calm down Tommy. She hummed soft lullabies, swayed gently, rubbed his back, and even attempted some bouncing, but nothing seemed to ease his crying. She felt a growing sense of helplessness as her boys’ sobs echoed through the room.

Then, a hushed relief passed her lips as Tommy’s cries began to wane. However, as she shifted her attention from the baby in her arms to the one she had left with you, it was then that she realized it wasn’t Tommy that had settled down, but Billy, and her heart skipped a beat when her eyes landed on you.

You were standing beside the bassinet, your arm extended, eyes squeezed shut incredibly tight, and a soft, yellow glow emanated from within the cradle. Panic initially surged within Wanda, but it swiftly receded as she took a step forward to take in the full scene.

Billy was eagerly reaching out one of his tiny hands, aiming to touch the bright, glowing object before him. His wide eyes radiated a contagious joy, and an adorable smile painted his little face. Wanda couldn’t help but exhale softly, a smirk playing on her lips as she observed you just being there for your son.

“Y/N,” she began gently, her hand resting on your shoulder.

“I… panicked. I’m so… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, dove. Just take a look.” You hesitantly obeyed her, opening one eye, then the other, a sigh of relief escaping as you realized that your child was unharmed. You stood up, your grin returning, but as you pulled your arm away, Billy’s cries resumed, matching Tommy’s once more.

“Well, it was nice while it lasted,” Wanda mused, gently laying the baby back into his own bassinet. She smiled, glancing over at you. “Do you think you’re willing to do that all day?”

You met her gaze. “We… We’re new at this, Wands. I… I think we just need more time.”

“We just need some help.”

The front door swung open, and both of you turned to see Agnes confidently striding into the room. “Hello, kiddos,” she chimed, casting a broad smile toward the sobbing babies. She nonchalantly dropped a duffel bag onto the couch before approaching the two of you, resting her hands on her hips. “I was just on my way to yoga when I heard your new little bundles of joy were on a sleep strike.”

A perplexed frown creased your forehead. “Who… told you that?” 

“Uh… my ears,” she retorted matter-of-factly, causing you and Wanda to exchange a bemused glance. Agnes leaned over the cribs. “Anyway, Auntie Agnes has arrived, and I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve to settle fussy newborns.”

“A- Auntie…?” you began, your curiosity piqued.

“You’re a lifesaver, Agnes!” Wanda interjected.

You watched as your nosy neighbor eagerly rubbed her hands together, ready to work her magic in soothing the bawling babies. Clearing your throat, you cautiously stepped forward to gain her attention. “Okay, but just… Don’t forget to… support their heads.” You gave Agnes a pointed look as you took another step closer. “And… When was the last time you… washed your ha- Wait, Wands, I… I don’t think we should let her…” You moved yourself in between her and the cribs, shielding your children from the woman.

The once wide smile on Agnes’s face faded, replaced by a hint of uncertainty. In the meantime, the incessant crying that had been dominating the house for hours began to gradually subside. “Um…” Agnes hesitated, then turned to Wanda, and the room fell into complete and utter silence. “Do you want me to take that again?”

“Sorry?” Wanda’s expression bunched together with confusion as you looked at her, exchanging perplexed glances with you and Agnes.

Agnes tilted her head, scoffing out an awkward laugh. “You want me to hold the babies. Should we just take it from the top?” She casually picked up her gym bag, her gaze shifting between you and Wanda.

“Wh- What?” Your own confusion mirrored Wanda’s.

Wanda couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle, waving her hand dismissively as she approached you. “Don’t be silly, Y/N,” she encouraged you with a smile. “Let’s let Agnes give it a try.” The babies’ cries grew once more, and Wanda guided you aside, her hand gently resting on your shoulder. You observed Agnes behind her, rocking the cribs, mixing her baby-handling duties with lunges.

“Wands-” you began, your concern still evident.

“I’m pretty sure we’re both going insane from the crying, Y/N,” Wanda remarked.

“They… just started,” you pointed out, studying her emerald eyes. “Did you… really not see that?”

Wanda’s brows furrowed subtly, her lips forming a tight line. She laid a delicate hand against your cheek, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb. “Dove, the boys haven’t slept in days,” she reasoned. “We’re all tired and we all need a break.”

“It’s… It’s been less than a… day…?” You shook your head, gently removing her hand from your face. “Wands, I- Do you… hear that?”

“I don’t hear anything,” Wanda said, walking towards the cribs, perplexed by your sudden shift in focus. However, movement on the stairs pulled your eyes in a different direction.

You turned to find two young boys, side by side, standing on the bottom step, gazing at you and Wanda with wide, expectant eyes.

“Mommy?”

“Mama?”

“Kids,” Agnes chuckled, her tone filled with amusement as she sat on the counter, a glass of dark amber liquid in her hand, which she raised in a toast. “You can’t control ‘em! No matter how hard you try…” She took a long sip of her drink, and you furrowed your brows as you turned your attention back to your sons.

“Do they… usually grow this fast?” you whispered as both boys rushed towards Wanda, eagerly wrapping their arms around her legs in a tight hug. You watched, running a thumb across the scar marking your palm.

“At least they’re not crying anymore, sweetheart,” Wanda pointed out with a smirk. She met your gaze, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach as she added, “We can finally get the sleep we all desperately need.”

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Wanda descended the stairs with a gentle, measured stride. Her eyes found you almost instantly, curled up on the couch with your sketch journal resting against your knees. A pencil danced graceful across the pages, creating professional, elegant strokes. She tried to sneak a peek at your latest artwork, but the creak of a floorboard under her weight dragged you from your creative trance. You swiftly pulled the journal out of her view, and she regarded you with curiosity but chose not to press further.

“Where are the boys?” she inquired.

“They’re in… the kitchen,” you responded, using the eraser-end of your pencil to indicate the other room. “I heard the… sink running. It seems like they’re doing the… the dishes.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Just so you know, kids never willingly do chores, dove.”

“Oh… Well, I…” You dropped your journal on the vacant cushion beside you and quickly rose, setting the pencil atop it. “I can go… check on them.” You flashed her an innocent smile, your eyes bright and enthusiastic. Wanda crossed her arms, giving you a skeptical look. “I… I got this.”

“Alright,” she agreed, nodding. “I’ll give you five minutes, but you better be bad cop this time, Y/N. The last time I let you try to discipline them, you gave them ice cream before dinner.”

“They… They have your eyes, Wands,” you confessed quietly, causing her to laugh lightly as you made your way into the kitchen. The boys stood at the sink, turning at the sound of your approach to block whatever was happening behind them. 

Wanda watched you cross your arms over your chest, and she smiled softly as she watched you attempt to be assertive. She knew she was going to have to walk in before the five minutes were up otherwise you’d end up giving the boys a unicorn, but curiosity nagged at her as she turned to look at your art book. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she reached over the cushions to grab onto the journal, flipping to the last page you were drawing… and she felt her stomach tighten at the nearly-finished, monochromatic image on the paper.

Your eyes remained closed, the hushed sadness in your face accentuated by the delicate graphite strokes. A lone tear meandered down your cheek, a poignant contrast against the muted backdrop. But the most striking element was the chasm in your chest, a vividly rendered void that laid bare your absent heart with a stark yet haunting elegance.

A gasp caught in her through, and a rush of emotion welled up, stinging her nose with the threat of tears. Her body froze, as if turned to stone, her feet anchored to the ground. But then, a single, unexpected bark pierced through the wall of fear that had started to build, shattering it and snapping her out of her daze. With a quick, decisive motion, she tore the paper from the journal and tucked it safely into her pocket.

She steeled herself, cleared her throat to dispel the lingering remnants of fear, and ventured into the kitchen. Her movements halted abruptly as her eyes fell upon the small dog cradled in your arms.

“And who’s this?” She stepped up beside you, resting her hands on her hips as she assessed the dog and then her sons.

“We haven’t named him yet,” Billy explained.

“Name him?”

“Mama said we can keep him,” Tommy chimed in, his excitement evident. This news prompted Wanda to slowly turn toward you, her brow arching impressively, her arms crossing over her chest. Your eyes widened, and you cleared your throat as you faced the boys.

“I-” The back door swung open, and once again, Agnes entered the room, brandishing a dog collar in her hand.

“Hey, kiddos. I noticed you two got a new pooch! I’ve got just the thing you need.” She extended her arm, offering the collar to you, and you began to reach for it. But Wanda swiftly intervened, snatching the collar from Agnes.

“If we put a collar on him, then it’s official,” she pointed out, giving you another meaningful look.

“Uh, boys… Your mother and I… We don’t think you’re ready to… care for an animal until you’re at least…”

“Ten,” Wanda coughed under her breath.

“Ten… years old,” you confirmed with a firm nod.

As the twins exchanged a sly glance, Wanda made an effort to halt their rapid aging, but your attention flickered toward Agnes as they persisted. She remained unphased when Tommy and Billy transformed from innocent five-year-olds into mischievous ten-year-olds. Her response was far from astonished; she simply chuckled, folded her arms, and remarked, “Let’s hope that dog stays the same size.”

While the boys engaged in a spirited debate over a name, you peered down at the little creature cradled in your arms, completely oblivious to Wanda’s keen observation. When you gently set the dog onto the floor, she grasped your elbow before you could leave. Leaning closer, her voice was a hushed murmur in your ear, “What’s going on?”

“I… don’t…” Your head swiveled to meet her inquisitive gaze. “I just… I need some… air.” You exhaled softly, your arm slipped from her grasp as you continued toward the door, just as Tommy called for her attention.

Wanda’s search for you was swift, but her escape from the house proved more challenging. Every time she made a move toward the door, the boys required her assistance with something. By the time she finally set foot in For Art’s Sake, the moon had already claimed the night sky.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she felt relief flood over her like a gentle stream as she spotted you seated on the bench across from your painting. Her eyes flickered to the plaque underneath it.

“The Scarlet Sorceress” Y/N Romanoff

It was nice of Ralph to change the nameplate. Your gaze wasn’t fixed on the artwork, though; instead, you were gently rubbing your palm, as if the scar was a mere pencil mark and your thumb, the eraser. You didn’t look up when she took a seat beside you, nor did you react as she cleared her throat to make her presence known. Her eyes met her own in the painting, and she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Where are… Are the boys okay?”

“They’re sleeping, but Agnes is still at the house.”

Nothing. Your refusal to meet her gaze hung heavily in the air, creating a tension that could suffocate her if it were able to. She disliked the sudden distance that had grown between you.

“Care to talk to me?” She broke the second wave of silence this time, her tone gentle but concerned. It was evident that you were making no effort to provide any response. The longer you stayed quiet, the tighter the knot twisted in her stomach. She needed to do something, say something to encourage you to open up. It was unfamiliar territory; usually, you were more than willing to share your thoughts with her. But this time, things had shifted. You were closing yourself off, and she could see the protective walls you were constructing.

She needed to destroy them before you finished.

Releasing a short breath, she dipped her hand into her pocket, producing a folded piece of paper. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and began to unfold it, her peripheral vision catching the slight turn of your head. “Is it this?” She unveiled your self-portrait, turning her attention to you, observing that you were now fixated on the artwork in her hands. “Y/N-”

“I… died… didn’t I?” You returned your gaze to your hands. “I… I remember. Nat. She showed me. In my… dreams.”

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows. “Nat seems to be showing you a lot of stuff,” she commented.

“T- Thanos. He… got the stone, didn’t he?” You sniffled, your brows knitting together in thought. “I… I died. And… Nat died…” You cleared your throat. “You… brought me back?”

She let out a deep sigh, relief washing over her once more. But why was she feeling relieved?

“You left a hole where my heart should be, Y/N, and I just… wanted to fill it up.” Your eyes shifted back to the drawing in her hands, and you emitted a dry chuckle. She exhaled in frustration, reaching out to grasp your hands to prevent you from fidgeting with your scar. But you swiftly withdrew from her, standing up and pacing forward. “Are you angry with me for bringing you back to life?”

“I- I don’t know.” You inhaled shallowly, exhaling rapidly. “I just… I… I need to… breathe, Wands… Please.” She leaned against the wall, her shoulders slumping, as you headed for the exit. She glanced back at the drawing in her hands once more, then shook her head, clenched her jaw, and began to chase after you.

“Y/N.” She caught up to you outside as you stepped onto the street. You paused, her voice holding you back, and she disregarded the single, cool raindrop landing on her cheek as she crossed the distance to reach you. “Please just talk to me, baby.”

“Why… me?” You turned to face her, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. More raindrops fell from the sky. “You c- could’ve brought anybody back. Like… V- Vision. But you… you chose me- Why didn’t you change me? Make me more… more confident. M- More… better? Why am I still… me?” you asked, your voice tinged with insecurity and self-doubt. Wanda moved closer, her eyes radiating warmth, her expression gentle. “I… I can’t be who you want me to be, Wands.” You huffed. “I’m… I’m not a people person. I can’t even… hug our own children.” You shook your head as if trying to shake the tears away from your eyes, but they continued to well up. “We tried- I tried. You… You deserve somebody who can… be with you, inside the house… and out.” Rain now poured down, a storm enveloping you both. Thunder rumbled overhead, lightning briefly illuminating the area. You sighed, your gaze drifting away from her to your hands. “You could’ve… made me that kind of- of person.”

Her head tilted to the side as she watched you intently. She gently clasped your wrist, ignoring your surprised look, and brought your hand close to her mouth. “I didn’t change you because I didn’t want you to change. You are exactly the person I want, just the way you are,” she declared, her voice ringing above the rain but her words a soft breath against your skin. “The Y/N I met all those years ago was already better than anyone I’ve ever known. And you’ve only become more perfect with time.” She placed a tender, affectionate kiss on the permanent mark on your palm, a smile gracing her lips as she added, “Scars and all.”

She couldn’t tell whether you’d finally let those tears escape, not with the raindrops tracing down your cheeks. Yet, the way you exhaled and gazed at her indicated that perhaps you had. She sensed those emotional barriers you’d been constructing beginning to crumble as you moved closer, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that felt like a blaze amidst the cool rain shower drenching both of you.

Amidst the brief symphony of thunder overhead, she knew that the sensible choice would be to break the kiss. To seek shelter from the rain. But instead, she defied this logic, her arms winding around your neck, pulling you closer to her, deepening the embrace as raindrops continued to fall and lightning continued to streak the sky.

Soon, she found herself chasing your lips as you pulled back slightly, and you ultimately rested your forehead against hers to quell the temptation. “We should… go home,” you whispered, and she nodded, your breaths mingling as you locked eyes. “Wands, I-” Just then, a louder clap of thunder seemed to shake the ground, forcing you apart. She beamed at your laughter, reaching for your hand as you looked up at the sky. She tugged you down the street, hand in hand, heading home. Together.

The door closed just as lightning illuminated the sky behind her, casting playful shadows on the wall. The rain had left you both drenched, but you paid little attention to it as you tugged her close, caught up in the embrace. The world outside faded away, and the fact that you were dripping wet ceased to matter, all except for a pair of eyes that observed you from the kitchen.

“Looks like you’ve figured things out in paradise,” Agnes chimed in, her voice breaking the intimate moment. Your muscles tensed, and Wanda let out an embarrassed laugh. “Don’t worry about me, dears. I’m just glad to see you both okay.” She grinned knowingly before adding, “I should get home. Thunderstorms don’t only affect the two of you, you know.” With a wink, she slipped out through the back door into the kitchen, leaving you with a sense of curiosity. You turned to Wanda, confusion written across your face.

“You don’t want to know,” she reassured you before you could question further. 

You pursed your lips together, hesitant, conflicted. She watched you with patience as you worked the situation out in your mind. And then you finally spoke, “Do you think that we can… There’s something else I- I need to tell you.”

“Okay, dove,” she said, pulling you back to her. “But let’s dry off before we turn our home into a puddle.”

“I’ll grab… some towels,” you replied and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. Then, you dashed upstairs, leaving her with a contented smile as she took a step forward.

However, the moment was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Wanda turned to open it, and her gasp matched the rain’s now-gentle patter outside. Before her stood a man, his presence triggering a mix of emotions. She couldn’t find her voice, and her heart raced as she watched the man throw his arms up in the air.

“Long lost bro get to squeeze his stinkin’ sister to death or what?”

“Pietro?” Her voice quivered as her brother stepped forward, enveloping her in a tight hug. “Oh.”

While they embraced, the floorboards behind them creaked, and you emerged on the scene, towels in hand. Uncertainty was etched across your features. As the siblings broke apart, Pietro sent you a quizzical look, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s the maid?”

Chapter 4

[ellesliterarycorner]

Writing Scenes Out of Order

Gonna be honest with y'all, I have never ever written a story completely in order. I am actually incapable of doing that. Even though I write the most detailed outlines known to man before I even think about writing, I still can’t write the scenes in order. I swear by this because I sincerely believe that writing scenes out of order increases my productivity which I’ll talk about later. Even if you haven’t done this before, I recommend everyone try it at least once, so without further ado, here are a few reasons that you should write your stories out of order. 

You Can Write The Ending First

When you write your scenes in order, generally that means that you’re going to write the ending last. In my experience, the ending is one of the most important things in your story, so I recommend that even if you write everything else in order, always write the ending first. Writing the ending first always gives you a light at the end of the tunnel. It gives you a destination to eventually reach. Even when you feel like your story is going absolutely nowhere, it allows you to go back and see what you want the ending to look like from the beginning which should help your motivation and hopefully lessen that pesky writer’s block!

Oh, Those Continuity Issues 

Continuity issues are the absolute worst. I can never seem to remember the way that I described stuff at the end of the book when I’m writing everything back at the beginning. One thing that does get frustrating about writing scenes out of order, is keeping up with continuity like what season it is, what characters have already met, and even who is alive and dead at certain points. Writing scenes in order eliminates these issues because you are writing everything in the order that it happens. I would most definitely recommend keeping an outline or at least a sheet of notes when you’re writing scenes out of order, so that you can keep yourself organized and lessen the continuity issues that you have to go back and fix in later drafts!

You Can Follow Your Inspiration

I plot every scene out extensively, but if I do have an idea for a scene, I immediately write it down and worry about where it fits into the story later. For me, this increases my motivation because at least I'm writing something even if it wasn't in my original outline. Every story has scenes that aren't the most interesting, and as writers, those can be the hardest scenes to write. Especially if you write all of the interesting scenes first, you won't have anything to look forward to when you're struggling through the more transitional parts of the story. This is just my opinion, but whenever I write in chronological order, my motivation goes down a lot. I like writing whatever scenes I want to write instead of writing what comes next in the story. Knowing that I can write whatever scene I want to next makes me super excited about writing

Sprinkle In That Foreshadowing

Y’all know how much I love me some well done foreshadowing. It’s simply one of the best things about reading and writing. But, writing foreshadowing can be really complicated if you aren’t sure how the story ends or even how the foreshadowing will fit into the story later. Because I normally write the ending scenes first, when I finally get around to writing the beginning scenes, I can easily sprinkle in little bits of foreshadowing or allusions to later scenes. It also helps me not overly foreshadow anything because I can go to the end and make sure I'm not doing too much.

[banjjakz]

Seven Days at Granny Orimoto's Flower Shop ; Yuuta x F!Reader

My name is Okkotsu Yuuta. I am a recent graduate of a martial arts vocational school. I just completed a year-long internship abroad in Africa. Due to my recent re-entry into Japan, I am still in the process of setting up my phone and internet. I apologize for the inconvenience and I am extremely sorry for the burden. As a supervisor and business, you may benefit from the set of skills that I have to offer. I can lift upwards of 25kg. I am neat and detail oriented. Due to past life experiences, I am a fast learner and quick to adapt to new surroundings. I am accustomed to taking orders and delivering results. It is my utmost goal to ensure the comfort and satisfaction of those around me. I am eager to be of service. Please think of me kindly.

Or: An odd boy shows up every night begging for a job offer. Did you mention that he gives you handwritten letters? Do you have to report a workplace romance if the only other employee is your boss, who is currently dying? Asking for a friend.

notes: commission for the lovely mielle! thank you very kindly for 1) commissioning me!!!!!! and 2) putting up with my compulsion to surpass any and all word count specifications

warnings: general off-putting vibes, casual discussions of child death, implied stalking (at the very least), unethical(…? maybe ethically gray?) necromancy, etc. y'all know what's about to go down

♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

Life as a florist is every bit the dream that you’d hoped it would be.

The thought of working from nine to five in some cubicle for the rest of your life was enough to drive you out of university before even completing the feeble attempt you’d half-assedly made at a degree. While the path to your current state of employment had not been linear, easy, or even recommended, you cannot imagine ending up anywhere else.

You’re lucky enough as it is that Granny Orimoto was willing to take you on – perhaps, at first, out of pity – as a shop-hand. That day, all those months, is still as clear as unmarred waters in your mind. What a pitiful image you must have made: underfed, poorly clothed, with roving, vacant eyes.

Nevertheless, you adjusted quickly and gratefully to your new place of employment. Within months, your sense of self and purpose in life had been restored, watered and nurtured underneath the guiding light of Granny Orimoto’s flower shop. Like a corpse risen again, your days were once more filled with hope and aspirations.

Eventually, Granny Orimoto began bestowing upon you more and more responsibilities. You tend to think of your daily tasks as privileges more than anything else. You’ve graduated far beyond merely ringing customers up on the till – at this point, you’re somewhat of a budding horticulturalist. Or, at least, that’s what you’d like to think on your good days.

Recently, Granny Orimoto has even begun to entrust you to manage the shop on your lonesome for several days out of the week. It used to be the case that she would require you to work only hours that coincided with her own availability, so that you might fall under her constant supervision. Of course, this was back when you could barely keep a plant alive. Nowadays, things are quite different.

Quite different, indeed.

On this slow, Monday evening, managerial status finds its way to you once more. Closing the shop used to feel weird, without Granny Orimoto there to lay into you about your posture, or your clumsiness, or your naturally shy, stuttering nature. Now, it’s starting to feel eerily more and more like business as usual.

When the bell above the front door rings, you don’t think too much of it – this town is a bit of a tourist trap, so there are quite a few out-of-towners who aren’t used to respecting closing times. Usually, you’re too nice to shoo them out, but the weight of the day bears heavily upon your apron-clad shoulders.

But when you spin around on your heel, the polite-yet-firm “we closed four minutes ago” withers on your tongue like dead leaves crumbling away upon the unrepentant, earthen ground.

The most disturbing thing is not that he’s exactly your type of handsome: tall, gaunt, malnourished, with a strange, lost look in his wideset eyes. It would be easier, somehow, if your immediate and arresting attraction to the gangly stranger was the most of your worries.

Perhaps what unnerves you so, is the fact that you are powerless to do anything but devote the entirety of your attention to the odd young man. The terra cotta pot once in your grasp has suddenly been placed on the nearest shelf. The gardener’s gloves on your hands have now been stripped away and flung carelessly to the ground, the delicate flesh of your fingers on display for the world to see.

“Are you hiring?” He asks. The lights flicker. Granny Orimoto should really stop fighting you about calling an electrician – they aren’t that expensive.

No, is what you should say, because you don’t have the authority to answer this question and also the thought of having to train someone else when you are just barely getting the hang of your newfound managerial status is a terrifying prospect.

And yet, what ends up leaving your mouth is:

“Yes.”

His black hair is overgrown and in dire need of a trim. The bangs are in a liminal state: too short to part, too long for comfort. It dangles limply in his eyes. Those eyes. Big and glassy and dark, like a dead doe gazing up, unseeingly, at the sky.

“Okay,” he says. “Is there an application that I could fill out?”

Is he not cold? The weather chills significantly at night, and his layers look rather thin. Or maybe that’s just the way the clothes hang off of him. “No, it’s alright. You can just – um, you’re good.”

“I’m…?”

“You’re good,” you repeat and then you have to fight for control over your own body, so that you can turn around and break eye contact before it actually kills you.  “When can you start? Do you have a phone number? Um, so we can get in touch with you about scheduling and training and verify your location and such and so forth.”

Okay, that last sentence was hastily tacked on. You’ll be the first to admit that much. But what kind of girl would you look like, asking a random stranger for his number out of the blue?

You hear more than you see him shuffle his feet, still lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “Um, no, sorry. I don’t have a phone.”

“E-mail?”

“Ah..no…would communication via letter be alright?”

What is his problem?

He shows up, four minutes past closing, poorly dressed and clearly in poor health, as well, to inquire about a job opening, and doesn’t even have a phone or any form of contact to provide other than handwritten correspondence?

Is this a prank? Are you being pranked, right now? You pause your fastidious, frustrated handling of today’s arranged bouquets just to surreptitiously scan your surroundings for any hidden cameras.

It’s like the man of your dreams has walked through the door. It’s almost too good to be true. You know you have eclectic tastes—and this is exactly why you’ve never had a boyfriend, before.

Because what living man could possibly compare to the fictional freakshows you stay up late at night reading about? Who would be worth fawning over, when you are already well equipped with a wealth of off-putting – and, quite frankly, disturbing – characters of ill-repute? Never has there been a living, breathing vessel capable of catching your jaded, heavy eyes.

Until now, that is.

“Sure,” you say, allowing the brain-rot to take control of your faculties. “Give me one second to write down our mailing information.”

But before you can cling desperately to another excuse to evade his magnetic presence, the strange boy speaks up, alluring you with the unsettlingly tranquil timbre of his voice: “That won’t be necessary. I can hand deliver the letters every day, around this time.”

You blink, sizing him up once more. Any normal human being would find this situation incredibly odd and even worth of a police report.

However, you’re comfortable in your own skin and are able to recognize that the screws you’ve knocked loose over time have, for better or worse, permanently altered your threshold for “red” or “green” flag recognition. For all you care, the flag could be purple. You aren’t thinking about flags right now. You’re thinking about his murky bangs, dark and deep, a rich obsidian, metastasizing over the smooth expanse of his alabaster forehead like a natural disaster.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting at this time every night, then.”

For the first time this evening, his gaunt face split into a tender grin, pink lips parting like spliced flesh. Somehow, he’s able to make the act of smiling something gory, something haunting. Your eyes are glued to the bone-white of his teeth. It’s like watching a car crash. You want, desperately, to look away. You cannot.

“I’m glad,” says the strange boy. “I’ll be here every night, right on time.”

A soft breeze stirs outside, just restless enough to tickle teasingly at the windchimes which dangle from the shop’s awning. Usually, the barrier of the front door dulls the melody. Tonight, you can hear the bells loud and clear.

Before you can think to demand (beg) that he reveal additional identifying information about himself – like, say, his name – the boy has all but disappeared from sight. Incredulously, you whirl around on your heel, scanning every visible inch of the shop for any possible clue as to where he went. But your searching is all for naught. It seems that he is, both in presence and absence, a complete mystery to you.

Well. There are certainly worse things that have happened to you. At least you got to chat with a cute, creepy guy for your trouble.

;

The next day, Granny Orimoto abstains from work yet again. Her modest apartment sitting atop the flower shop has kept her out of sight for many days, now. You’re no stranger to her fits and bursts of ill health, but you cannot recall the last time the brusque, full-hearted old lady has been bedridden for such a prolonged length of time.

You almost consider trying to drop by unannounced to bring her some soup and vitamins, but the thought dies immediately upon arrival. Memories of the last time you’d tried to caretake for her and were subsequently thrown out with indignant, irate gusto are enough to curb your momentary sympathy.

This means that you are effectively head of shop, once more. Over time, it gets easier to deal with the random accidents prone to any small, self-run business: leaks, clogs, jams, flickering lights, disappearing items, strange sounds at odd hours with an unlocatable source. All of it, you handle with def improvisational methods.

Even the spontaneously shattering bathroom mirror is no match for your handywoman capabilities! Really, Granny Orimoto should be lucky that it is you who happened to show up on her doorstep just as her health began to take a dive.

These are the kinds of thoughts buzzing around your skull as twilight descends upon the horizon like flies to a carcass. The death of the day is, as usual, a bloody affair: hues of bright vermillion spill across the sky, setting everything in the shop a brilliant, flagrant shade of fresh-burning red. The terracotta pots seem almost to be radiating with internal heat.

Night comes soon enough, bringing with it a brisk chill in the air. The wind rustles the windchimes, a forewarning of what is to come.

And sure enough, at 8:04 P.M., there he is, lingering in the doorway, daring to take not one step past the threshold, just as he’d done yesterday, that first night.

“Good evening.”

Clutched in his fingers is a wrinkled letter, wrapped in plain stationery. He offers it to you with both hands, politely.  

The space between the both of you evaporates in the fraction of a second it takes for you to cross the shop and greet him back, accepting the letter with greedy hands and a greedier heart. “Good evening. Thank you for the correspondence.”

“Thank you for receiving it,” he replies, scratching the back of his head in a stupidly endearing self-conscious gesture. “I know the manner of communication is a bit unconventional… sorry about that…”

“It’s okay.” And it really is. You, of all people, are no stranger to unforeseen and harrowing life circumstances. That the young man does not possess a phone or email address is not so uncommon, anyways – you’ve had time to reflect on the situation, and for all his off-putting looks and strangely formal manner of speaking, he could easily be a country mouse who has recently relocated to a more urban area. Who are you to judge?

“Shall I have a response waiting for you tomorrow night?”

He bows, then, for a bit longer and a bit deeper than what is normally appropriate for two virtual strangers. “I’d be grateful. Thank you for the trouble.”  

Once more, he evaporates seemingly into thin air, leaving behind not even the faintest trace of his existence. He appears to possess an uncanny ability to slip out of sight just as your eyes fall shut in the millisecond it takes to blink, to breathe.

Taken in stride with his dark-circled eyes and general aura of mysterious tragedy, the whole schtick is a little bit sexy, you have to admit. His vibe is that of a haunted family heirloom: beautiful, priceless, stained in generations of blood and cursed to doom those who dare to draw too near.

Your eagerness is almost feral as you tear apart the seal to the envelope in your hands, greedily pawing at the innards. What awaits you is a handwritten letter, complete with smudged pencil marks obscuring some of the more intricate kanji scribbled onto the page. Some of his radicals waver, lines bending or sprawling in odd and abnormal ways, as though he’d been shaking when we wrote it.

 As though he’d been nervous. So nervous, in fact, that upon handing you the thing, he had to immediately abscond from the premises without another word.

Cute.

To Whom it May Concern,

Thank you very kindly for your willingness to take me on as an apprentice to your shop. Please allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Okkotsu Yuuta. I am a recent graduate of a martial arts vocational school. I just completed a year-long internship abroad in Africa. Due to my recent re-entry into Japan, I am still in the process of setting up my phone and internet. I apologize for the inconvenience and I am extremely sorry for the burden.

As a supervisor and business, you may benefit from the set of skills that I have to offer. I can lift upwards of 25kg. I am neat and detail oriented. Due to past life experiences, I am a fast learner and quick to adapt to new surroundings. I am accustomed to taking orders and delivering results. It is my utmost goal to ensure the comfort and satisfaction of those around me. I am eager to be of service.

Please think of me kindly.

Upon reading the very last word of the very last line, you discover that your bottom lip has been bitten so severely that a fine trickle of blood is descending down your chin.

There is no resume or CV in sight – just this handwritten, strangle little letter in which he divulges some most interesting truths.

Is he playing mind games with you? “Accustomed to taking orders”? “Eager to be of service”? Is he trying to tell you something? Outside of the hiring process, that is.

The note itself is perfectly polite and proper. It’s you whose mind succumbs hedonistically to the gutter. Oh, for shame.

 At night, the shop tends to turn into a gnarly jungle of pots and leaves and vines and poorly-placed smatterings of soil; you wade through theses trenches, aided by no more than the moonlight attempting to feebly infiltrate through the shutters – as the lights are out, again. Should probably call someone about that.

In your frantic haste, it’s a miracle your hands aren’t sliced by a spare pair of shears lying forgotten on some counter or another. Before injury occurs, you’ve already located what you’ve been searching for: a usable pen and some clean, uncrumpled paper.

The matchbox in your back pocket proves useful as you strike up a flame and light a nearby candle, paying no mind to the potential danger of the wobbly column of fire in a room full of fauna.

Like a woman possessed, you feverishly scribble away at your reply. It takes you longer to draft this one particular letter than it had to complete your college entrance exams.

But it’s alright – the candle beside you burns throughout the night, neither the wick nor the wax diminishing even a wink.

Dear Okkotsu,

Your eagerness to work hard is clearly evident. Color me impressed.

As fate would have it, I am in dire need of some help with running the shop. The owner has been absent with illness for quite some time and the workload is starting to get unmanageable. The addition of a strong set of arms is more than welcome. Even when it was the two of us putzing around, we still wouldn’t have been able to do some of the heavier lifting.

I’m curious to hear more about your passion to serve. Was this instilled in you during your time at vocational school? What does “being of service” mean to you?

While we are ultimately a public-facing shop, the stream of customers is slow, and your daily tasks will often look like physical labor and horticultural activities. But, from your letter, it sounds like this will pose no object.

Overall, your enthusiasm is appreciated and your hard-working attitude is attractive to future employers.

You could start as early as tomorrow.

Please do respond at your convenience.

It was rather quickly with only a slight bit of panic running through your veins that you tacked on “to future employers.” Even while reading it back, you cringe a little bit. Too forward? Oh well. It’s written in ink and it’s much too late to go for hunting for another clean piece of paper in the shop’s opaque blackness.

Speaking of which… you really should call an electrician. And a plumber. And some sort of handy man, to help you clean up all the broken glass from the shattered bathroom mirror. And maybe it may also me a good idea to get in touch with a security footage company and inquire about their installation rates. It certainly can’t be normal; how many things go missing so frequently. Although you’ve spent most of your waking hours with an aging elderly woman up until very recently, you’re quite sure that dementia isn’t contagious.

Ah, well. These are all things to take care of tomorrow. Sighing, you tuck away the letter into your back pocket for safe keeping before you go about locking up.

You try not to think too hard about the lingering gaze you feel on the back of your neck. If anything, it feels better than being completely alone.

;

The fragrant scent of okayu fills your nose as you climb the stairs to reach Granny Orimoto’s apartment.

Usually, you would not dare to trespass inside her abode, despite it’s close proximity to the shop. She is a grouchy old lady who does not take kindly to meddling. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the seed of worry in the pit of your belly, which had blossomed over the course of the past few weeks into full-blown concern for her wellbeing. Besides her once-daily text message in the evening confirming the status of shop operations, you have not seen or heard from the old woman in what must be almost half a month at this point.

So, you’ve bitten back your pride and prepared a meal to personally deliver to her.

You are moderately concerned when there is no response to your three separate attempts at knocking on the door. Granny Orimoto hadn’t responded to any of your text messages, so you’d naively assumed she’d been asleep and hadn’t seen them. But is it possible to sleep through the ruckus that you’re creating?

The tension in your body only heightens when you try to the doorknob and realize, in shock and slight horror, that it’s open.

“Granny Orimoto?” You call out, haltingly yet loudly – loud enough to reach her wizened ears. “Granny, I’m sorry, I’ll be coming in now! Pardon the intrusion!”

Taking care not to jostle the still-hot bowl of rice porridge in your hands, you slip off your shoes at the Genkan and make your way inside of the apartment. Although you’ve only been here once before – and it had been an extremely brief stay before Granny Orimoto had shooed you off the premises – it still doesn’t feel all that unfamiliar to you.

It’s a traditional set-up, that much is for sure. Not much has changed, either. Same old floral blankets folded in various assortments and piles around the tiny room, same old plastic draining rack laid across the kitchen sink.

And, of course, there is that strange pair of guest slippers by the front door.

A bright, childish pink with the width and depth to accompany the foot of a young girl no older than six, these slippers had given you pause the first time you’d set foot in Granny Orimoto’s apartment. As far as you know, the old lady doesn’t have any living relatives with which she maintains contact. She spends every holiday alone, in her room, and refuses any offers of companionship between the two of you. You’ve always assumed something tragic must have happened, for a woman this advanced in age to have no one to visit or host during the New Year.

So why, then, does she keep a pair of children’s house slippers by the front door?

Although they are neatly placed and carefully aligned, the heels of the slippers face the direction of the household – as though they’ve been recently taken off and exchanged for outside shoes. Like someone has been here and left. Were they in that position when you stopped by before? Perhaps Granny Orimoto set them that way during her last cleaning.

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you move past the entrance area and towards where you know the bedroom awaits. There is no overt stench of death and decay, so you aren’t afraid of walking in on her corpse. You’re, like, 85% sure that you could mentally recover from handling that situation, but it would be unfortunate and would likely mean an endless night for you and the poor EMTs who would be dispatched to the scene.

The bedroom door, too, is slightly ajar, and when you push it open all the way, you’re greeted by a sight that hits you squarely in the chest, knocking the wind from your lungs, stealing your voice, marring your eyes with shock and sympathy.

Granny Orimoto lies on her back, skin so pale that it is a near perfect match to the futon covers draped around her frail body. Even from this distance, you are able to clearly track the pathway of her veins as they course across her, the deep blues and greens standing out abnormally against the thin, alabaster flesh. Her hair, significantly grayer than the last time you’d seen her, has escaped from it’s usual, customary low-slung bun. You’ve never seen Granny Orimoto in any other kind of style – in fact, you’d begun to think – somewhat mischievously – that her hair had been surgically arranged to the nape of her neck.

But now, it sprawls around her skull in scraggly spirals, spilling across the pillow like leaking liquid. Thin and brittle, you’re sure that if she tried to gather it into a bun as she once had, it would split and break into a million fine pieces of ash.

“So, you’ve come.”

That hoarse voice snaps you out of your trance. You hadn’t even noticed that she was awake. One moment, you’d been gazing at her motionless body – and the next, you find her entirely unchanged except for the fact that her eyes are now open, peering at you. Unblinking. It’s disconcerting.

It looks like the effort pains her, to lift one hand and pat weakly at the comforter. “You came all the way here, silly girl. Might as well sit.”

You aren’t being kicked out?

Wow. She really must be dying.

Gingerly, you fold your legs beneath you and linger at the edge of the futon. “Granny, how are you feeling? I brought okayu. If you are feeling up to it, please eat. You must take care of your health.”

“Alright then,” says Granny Orimoto, mildly. “You’ll have to help me.”

“Of course.”

There is ultimately an insignificant amount of spillage down the front of her shirt, in the end. Still, you take it as an opportunity to encourage her to take a bath and change into fresh clothes, which you expect she has not done in far too long. This, too, requires your assistance. You don’t mind it at all. In fact, it brings you peace – to be able to care for the woman who had most probably saved your life by taking you in, all that time ago.

When it’s all said and done, Granny Orimoto lays back in the bed. The sheets could use some washing and the futon itself should surely be hung out in the sun to dry, but you recognize that this might be a bit too much excitement for her today. Having eaten and bathed, Granny Orimoto appears ready to return to her slumber.

You decide not to push your luck by overstaying your welcome. “Please rest well, Granny Orimoto. I will come back soon.”

It is when you are almost past the threshold of the bedroom door that you hear Granny’s whisper, faint as smoke and so soft it almost doesn’t sound like the stubborn, strong-willed woman you once knew:

“You remind me of my granddaughter.”

As though you’ve been struck by lightning, your body is immediately paralyzed, muscles helpless to do anything but twitch in confusion, overstimulation. “Oh…? I hope she is well…”

“She’s dead,” says Granny Orimoto. “The stench of death follows you.”

Ironic, coming from a woman who is quite obviously preparing to approach the far shore herself. “I see.”

“Whatever is hanging around you, get it taken care of. You’ll stink up the shop and the plants will wither.”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Are you taking care of my zinnias?”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Better be. How can you own a flower shop if you can’t take care of zinnias…”

You want to whip around and ask her what the hell she means by that, but the rumbling of her soft snores fill the space before you can get another word in edgewise.

As you make your way downstairs, Granny’s words continue to marinate in your mind – and not just her implication that the shop would be left to you. That she thought it fit to tell you that you remind her of her dead granddaughter was certainly an event that occurred in your life. But what exactly had she been on about, telling you that you smell like death?

In absentminded thought, your hand fiddles around in your jacket pocket with the latest letter from Okkotsu. You can’t stop thinking about his response to your last letter.

To You, Whom it Concerns,

Are you taking care? The seasons are changing during this time, so I hope your health is faring well.

I’m glad that my enthusiasm comes across as clearly as my physical capabilities.  Sometimes I struggle to convey my intentions and inner thoughts. It seems like we can understand each other well, even while communicating through letters, which makes me happy.

To me, being of service means unobstructed and clear-minded dedication of the self, body and mind, to another’s fulfillment. Not dissimilar to pure love. This “pure” element is important to me. In fact, I believe total service is a form of pure love. Would you agree?

Maybe this is a bit strange to say, and you might hate me for it, but you remind me of a girl I once knew. She is long gone now. It has been nice to see some of her, again. Of course, it has been even nicer to get to know you.

Regretfully, I cannot begin formal employment just yet. The country re-entry procedures are taking longer than expected and things are a bit complicated right now. It is burdensome, but if you could please kindly allow for some additional time I would be very grateful. I’m sorry to trouble you.

In the meantime, it’s fun to chat together, like this. I’d be happy if we could continue.

Take care not to catch a cold.

The first time you’d read it practically had you squealing into your hands like a schoolgirl. Pure love? Expressing concern for your health? Expressing his desire to continue exchanging letters, even if he can’t formally start the training process?

At this rate, you’re on track towards a confession.

Which, of course, is the ultimate goal. You could never forgive yourself for letting the physical manifestation of all your wildest fantasies slip away. No, you’ve got to reel him in. You’ve got to ensnare him in a web of infatuation, so convoluted and intense that he won’t be able to find his way out. You’ve already decided that he is yours. It’s only a matter of time before things fall into place.

As has become customary, Okkotsu drops by the shop at precisely 8:04 p.m. and not one moment sooner or later. You’ve grown to anticipate the tinkling of the windchimes which herald his otherwise soundless arrival. Like an apparition, his visage manifests in the front door.

There’s something different about tonight: uncertain, he chances a foot past the threshold. “Could I trouble you to come inside?”

Oh. Oh! Are you finally past the stage of contactless letter exchange? You could cry tears of joy. “Please come in.”

“Pardon the intrusion…”

When he breaks past the entry area, it’s as though a wave of heat pulses throughout not just your own body, but the entire shop, as well. A light sweat breaks out at the crest of your brow. Is this seasonally appropriate? You aren’t sure if there is any season wherein a heatwave past sundown is normal.

Okkotsu looks at you like a lost puppy, floundering at what to do, what to say next. You yourself are no less awkward, but you take on the burden of breaking the silence first:

“It’s funny, you mentioned in your letter that I remind you of a girl you once knew. Today, my boss said that I remind her of her dead granddaughter. Wouldn’t happen to be the same girl, huh?”

You’re trying for lighthearted, but the joke falls flat when Okkotsu pales, white as a ghost.

Damage control, damage control! “Oh, I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, it’s alright,” he cuts you off, raising a hand. “I should’ve been forthright from the beginning. You aren’t too far off from the truth.”

Huh?

Okkotsu continues, “When I was a little boy, Mrs. Orimoto’s granddaughter and I were best friends. Her name was Rika. When she was six, Rika died in a car accident. I was with her at the time and failed to do anything to stop it from happening, or to save her. I’ve always been very sorry to Mrs. Orimoto, who raised Rika from a young age. By working at her shop, I hoped to repay some of that debt…”

You blink once, twice. Time seems to fall apart and reconstruct itself in the space it takes you to conjure up a response. What can you possibly say, to a story like that?

“You don’t, er, have to say anything,” mutters Okkotsu, as though he’s read your mind. “I know it’s heavy. But that’s the truth…”

“Okkotsu,” you say, voice tinny and faraway to your own ears. “You have a good heart.”

His downcast face shoots upwards, wide eyes seeking out your own with a desperate sheen to their dark, bottomless depths. “Huh…?”

“I mean it,” you press on, stepping closer as you do. He doesn’t even flinch or waver. You know this, because your senses are acutely aware of every fiber of his being. “Not many people would be that brave, or honor that sense of duty. You’re an admirable man. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

It seems you’ll be staying well past closing tonight to mop up the puddle that Okkotsu is about to melt into. His ears burn such a bright red that they almost glow in the dim lighting of the shop.

“I- I--!”

“So that’s the depth of your service,” you muse, your toes stopping just shy of his own, “or your ‘pure love’?”

Okkotsu’s eyes flutter shut. The sound of his gulp echoes like a gunshot. “Ah… er, miss manager, I—”

“Call me by my name. I’ve written it to you for a reason.”

Obeying your direct command, he feebly whispers your name, invoking you like he’s scared of what he’s about to summon. It sets a live wire alight at the base of your spine. Sparks fly throughout your body and it’s all you can do not to pounce on him then and there in this very shop, sleeping Granny upstairs be damned.

“Good. It seems you really are skilled at taking direction.”

His eyes are still closed when you nods, face flushed. Cute. You can’t help but want to tease him more, push him further. “Good job.”

His head all but hangs, now, as he resolutely refuses to make eye contact with you. In front of him, his hands are clasped suspiciously in front of his crotch – a detail which you take in ravenously, hungrily.

Curbing the overwhelming desire to do more, you settle with pushing your sealed envelope into his firm, solid chest with both hands, letting your fingernails press lightly into the muscle. “Here’s today’s letter. Read it and respond well.”

“Yes, I understand,” he says, eyes still shut, head still hung.

It requires you to stand on your tiptoes, when you try to lean into his ear and whisper: “You deserve a chance to make things right. Let me help you with this.”

You let him go, then, because you’re sure he’s about ready to burst at the seams. The last thing you throw his way is yet another bit of praise, because you’re a little bit awful: “I admire your idea of pure love, Okkotsu.”

Before tonight, you’ve never seen a grown man walk straight into a windowpane. Okkotsu reels back, nods and bows to you in acknowledgement before hightailing it out of the shop so fast that, as usual, you fail to actually see him go through the motions of stepping out and leaving. He’s always in such a rush. An odd one, he is.

Good thing “odd” just your type.

From that night onwards, Okkotsu starts making himself more available outside of his usual 8:04 p.m. haunting. Now, he’ll drop by early enough in the afternoons for his shadow to be visible against the door. Still, he resolutely avoids any times when current customers are present. You tease him, lightly, for this, asking how he plans to work partially as a sales attendant if he is afraid to interact with the customer base.

His response?

“I want to work here for two reasons,” he’d stated simply. “For you, and for Rika.”

Normal women would probably find an issue with their ideal man likening them to his dead childhood sweetheart. Fortunately, you are not normal. It’s flattering, even.

Clearly, Rika was another manifestation of his pure love. That you can even approach that category, let alone be mentioned in the same breath as her, is, to you, a vibrant green flag. You must be doing something right here.

So you continue intertwining yourself deeper and deeper with Okkotsu Yuuta: the letters are a constant in both of your daily lives, as well as his visits become more frequent. As an interesting development, he’s started to bring you homecooked food. Usually, it is you who does the caregiving. The first time he shows up with an obento made specially for you – complete with a heart made out of specially cut seaweed set atop the fresh rice – you almost start crying.

Admittedly, it’s all moving very fast. Hasn’t it only been four days, now, since he’d first darkened your doorway, pitifully asking for a job with no form of communication? And now, here he is, feeding you the food he’d prepared for you to enjoy as you go about your closing shift.

“Would you ever want to go out?” You blurt, and then pause, mortified at the overtly forward implication to your words. “Like! To a restaurant! Or a café! You always bring me stuff. Let me treat you.”

“Hmmm…”

Okkotsu’s wide, dark eyes roll upwards in thought. “But I really like staying here. I like eating here. No one else gets to see your pleased, comfortable face while eating except me. I don’t think I can share that. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, dizzy. “You don’t have to.”

This is the right answer. Despite his soft, youthful features, the ginger grin he offers you is undercut by the ominous glint in his intense gaze. “I don’t have to share?” He gathers some pickled plum in the chopsticks, bringing them to your open, waiting mouth. “It’s all for me?”

“I am,” you say, and accept the bitter, delicious fruit on the tip of your tongue. It is pungent. It is sweet. It is overwhelming. You almost aren’t able to swallow.

Time spent with Okkotsu makes life seem so fantastical that it almost blinds you to the world of the living. That night, you cannot find it within yourself to leave the shop and go home after closing, instead opting to chat with this gaunt, ghoulish boy until you are startled awake in the morning by your phone’s automatic alarm.

When you come to, you discover that you’d all but passed out behind the front desk, where the two of you had sat, talking, for hours into the night. Okkotsu is nowhere to be found, but in his absence is a crisply folded piece of paper lying innocently upon the desk. Hastily, you scrub at your eyes and smack your lips, trying to wake yourself up as much as is possible before you unfurl the letter and dive into its contents.

To You, Whom it Concerns,

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be apart from you?

If I could have, I would have stayed with you all throughout the night. I’m sorry to have left you by yourself. But you aren’t really alone. If you ever feel lonely, in the shop, please remember that I’m always there with you. Watching over you. Can you feel me?

Thanks for listening to me last night. It was a heavy story to tell, but now that I’ve confessed it, I feel so much lighter. And you accept me! Words can’t express how I feel, so please allow me to keep showing you.

Also, since Mrs. Orimoto isn’t well these days, can I ask that you don’t share with her that I’m here? The shock may worsen her condition. When she is no longer bedridden, I will tell her myself that I wish to remain and work in the shop. You shouldn’t be caught in the middle of my situation.

As always, I can’t wait to see you again. I miss you so much already, and I haven’t even left the shop yet. I’m writing this as I watch you sleep. Did you know that you snore a little bit? It’s cute.

Please think of me often.

On the one hand, you want to bury your face in your hands and scream and cry and maybe roll around and die a little bit. A love note! It’s a proper love note, this time. The thought makes your insides feel as though they’re being set alight with a bright, brilliant, inextinguishable flame.

On the other hand, Okkotsu’s mention of Granny Orimoto has brought to mind the fact that you haven’t heard from her in what is now two days. Usually, she’ll send you a message or two at the end of every day, making sure that things are in order and that you haven’t burned down the shop yet. But the last time you’d spoken to her had been when you brought over the okayu to soothe her sickly stomach…

Inexplicably, a chill overtakes your body.

Operating on autopilot, you pull yourself together – running a hand through your hair, smoothing your wrinkled clothes – and make your way out of the shop, to the external set of stairs running along the west wall.

With haste, you climb the steps, nearly tripping over yourself to reach the front door which has been left, once again, unlocked. The sense of wrongness occupying your faculties only heightens when you realize this must mean that Granny Orimoto has not been up out of bed since you’d last visited.

When you stop to toe off your shoes at the genkan, you notice that the bright pink pair of children’s house slippers are nowhere to be found, absent from their perpetual perch by the front door, as though someone – or something – has stepped inside.

Mind whirling a mile a minute, you push into the apartment and immediately reel back at the offensive scent of pure, unadulterated rot.

Oh.

Oh, no.

It could be the spoiled ingredients in the fridge, you think, desperately, as you hustle towards the bedroom. It could be anything. Anything but what it is you’re most afraid of.

Dazed, confused, scared, and still freshly woken up, your clumsy limbs somehow manage to collide with one of the low-sitting tables filling the living space. The abundance of knick-knacks and keepsakes cluttering the surface clatter in indignation, making an obscene ruckus as they fall over and to the floor. Upon closer inspection, you realize, to your horror, that it is an altar which you’d disturbed.

The only things left unshaken by your blundering blight are two framed photos: one of which displays the portrait of a young girl, no older than six, with long, dark hair and a serene smile. She seems to peer at you through the barriers of the picture frame, through the barrier of time. Her gaze hooks into your soul and invites you to step closer, to look harder. The longer you stare, the higher the gooseflesh on your skin raises in alarm. It’s an uphill battle to slide your gaze over to the picture beside her, which displays the likeness of a young boy close to her in age – presumably unrelated to her, given their distinct features, and yet, he is placed next to her on what is surely a memorial altar meant to honor and house the deceased.

While the personal effects and other supplicating items have all been disrupted and thrown off by your collision, the incense in front of the two picture frames still burns brightly, steadfastly. Oddly, it does nothing to quell the horrid stench of decay in the apartment. If anything, the altar seems to be exasperating the smell, which brings involuntary tears to your eyes and a pucker to your lips.

It's less so that the stench itself is what drives you to such a reaction; rather, the sensation invading your olfactory senses fills you with an abominable concoction of violent emotions: rage, pity, sorrow, envy, despair. You are drawn follow the source of these feelings, and your feet lead you to the bedroom, hands trembling underneath the sheer weight of all that you are experiencing as they push the slightly ajar door all the way open.

A gasp escapes you, unbidden. There, in that same, white futon adorned with layers and layers of her signature floral blankets, lies the corpse of Granny Orimoto. You can tell she’s dead because her skin has started to sag and bloat in strange and inhuman ways. This is the least surprising thing before your eyes.

Next to Granny sits a little girl – the spitting image of the girl in the portrait you’d glimpsed mere moments ago. Her gaze had once been trained steadfastly on Granny’s body, but now she looks up at you, unblinking, all-seeing.

“Hello,” says the girl, with a little girl’s voice.

“Hi,” you respond. “Do you live here?”

“Yes,” says the girl. “This is my granny.”

You remind me of my granddaughter.

She’s dead.

Granny Orimoto’s parting words to you echo in your head, rattling your brain, fizzling your consciousness.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rika. Granny Orimoto told me about you.”

Slowly, cautiously, as though you are approaching a spooked animal (ironic, given the fact that it is you who is shaking like a leaf), you crouch down and kneel on the floor, sitting on your haunches in a polite manner, mirroring the girl before you. Granny Orimoto’s body is the only thing separating you as you both sit, face to face, hands clasped in your laps, peering curiously at one another.

“I know,” says Rika. “Yuuta told you about me, too.”

Of course she would know about the conversations you and Yuuta have. This also might as well happen. At this point, after all you’ve just witnessed – first, the fresh corpse of your former employer, and now, the physical manifestation of a girl who died over ten years ago – there is very little left that could happen which would truly shock you out of your wits.

“Yes, he did. Have you been hanging out in the shop? Have you been lonely?”

The girl sticks out her bottom lip. “Yeah. You guys didn’t pay attention to me. Even when I was really loud, or turned the lights off, or broke the mirror. Sorry for breaking the mirror. I was mad.”

“It’s okay to be mad, but we mustn’t break things, or hurt others. I’m sorry for not noticing you sooner. Do you like plants and gardening? Like your granny?”

Rika nods. “Mhm, yeah. But Granny never lets me into the shop. Granny says all I do is mess things up. Granny says I’m no good. Granny says people died because of me. Did you know my dad is dead, too?”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“It’s okay,” says Rika. “I wanted him to die.”

You blink. “Did you want Granny Orimoto to die, too?”

She takes a moment to contemplate before answering. “Granny had to die if I was going to play with Yuuta again.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, desperate to understand. When she begins to explain, you lean forward, forgetful of the fact that it is an old woman’s corpse which lies beneath you.

“Granny has already lived for so long. I wanted to come back. I died before my seventh birthday. Yuuta and I were supposed to spend it together. Yuuta never forgot about me. Yuuta talks to me every day. Yuuta went to Africa. Have you ever been to Africa? I went with Yuuta because he made a shrine for me there. Now Yuuta is back in Japan. Yuuta promised that we would play together again. Yuuta said he needed some time to prepare things. Yuuta is good at things like that – Yuuta can fight and do magic. Yuuta does jujutsu. Do you know jujutsu?”

“I know it,” you tell her.

“Yeah, Yuuta has powers. Yuuta knows a lot about dying and things like that. So, anyways, Yuuta said he would use his powers to help me come back so we can play together again. Yuuta said that me and granny have to switch places. I said ‘OK, Yuuta!’ and then Yuuta said he needed seven days. What day is it today?”

Somehow, you know the answer, even without looking at your phone’s calendar. “Monday.”

“Oh, so it’s been seven days. Yay! We can play together again. Do you want to play with us, too?”

“I would like to play together, yes.”

Abruptly, Rika unfurls from her graceful little seated position and makes her way over to you, crawling over Granny Orimoto’s corpse. You try not to think too hard about the graphic squelching that occurs underneath the childish palms of Rika’s tiny hands.

“Yay! Let’s go downstairs. Maybe Yuuta will be there.”

You don’t have the heart to tell her that Yuuta only swings by when the sun is out of sight. Her arms raise, clearly indicating that she’d like to be carried, and you are content to oblige her, as you scoop her up in your arms and make good on her direction. You exit Granny Orimoto’s apartment with Rika in your arms, her little feet dangling from your hip. The bright pink pair of slippers almost fall off as you make your way down the stairs, and you take care to remind her to make sure not to lose them.

When you get back to the shop, you must admit that you were mistaken in thinking Yuuta would not be there. As though he’d been anticipating this – which, you realize, he absolutely was, as this marks seven days from the first time he’d set foot in the shop – Yuuta stands by the front desk, wringing his hands before him nervously, sweat visible at his temples.

The both of you lock eyes, and he smiles, warm and fuzzy and entirely ill-fitting for the increasingly absurd scenario in which you find yourself. But you have little time to interrogate him about what the hell is going on – for Rika leaps from your arms and hits the ground running, screaming at the top of her little lungs, Yuuta!! Yuuta!!!, excited and so full of life, in only the way that children can scream in pure joy. Pure love.

He crouches and readily meets her, scooping the little girl up in his arms and sweeping her into the air, spinning round and round with Rika in his arms. Rika-chan!! Rika-chan!!! he cries – literally cries, that is, as you cannot help but spot the stray tear or two running down the swells of his flushed cheeks.

It is right as you are starting to feel a bit voyeuristic that Yuuta slows to a stop and finds your eyes once more. He comes to you, then, with Rika still perched on his hip, a chafingly tender smile splitting his face into two.

“I knew it was you,” he whispers with charged intensity, voice potent with unspoken feeling. “I knew you were special. I’ve always known. You never judge me. You always listen. You accepted me. And you accepted Rika, too.”

Have you? Accepted them, that is.

You shock yourself when you realize that you really have accepted all that’s transpired. Granny Orimoto saved your life when she’d taken you in and, for that, you must always be grateful. But from what Rika shared with you about how she’d been treated as a small child, and from what you’ve observed from Yuuta’s generally traumatized disposition and extreme reluctance to come face-to-face with the old woman, you realize, now, that there is a reason why Granny Orimoto had no living family to speak to or rely on when she was in her final days.

Whether or not her death had something to do with Yuuta’s apparent preternatural abilities (you remind yourself to ask about that later), it remains clear that she’d been in ill health long before you’d arrived at the flower shop. With no one to talk to. No one to care for her. You’d always felt pity. But, now, you realize that it may have been a situation of her own doing.

How could you argue with the living, breathing testament to that fact, who stand before you in fresh-faced, smiling glee?

“Of course I accept you both,” you say, earnestly, and mean it. “Rika is too cute not to love!” The young girl giggles, bashfully burying her face in Yuuta’s neck.

“And what about me?” Yuuta’s brows are quirked, his smile dipping into something a bit more cutting, a touch more heated than his simple joy from moments ago. “Am I cute enough to love, too?”

The answer is simple and requires no effort on your part: “I love you, Yuuta.”

You had more to say after that, but it proves a bit challenging to monologue your undying devotion to this man while said man is currently enveloping your mouth inside of his own. He kisses like a black hole: devouring, dark, impossibly comprehensive, and providing you without hope for possible escape.

He really is your type.

;

After those first seven days, Yuuta finally begins training at the shop. And Rika joins in, as well.

The three of you make an odd, adorable little family unit. After Yuuta had taken care of cleaning and renovating the apartment space upstairs, the three of you moved in without further delay. Your days are filled with home-cooking, raising Rika, maintaining the shop, and working alongside the man who has quickly made himself to be your life partner in every endeavor.

In fact, so much of your life is consumed with this newfound domesticity that there is little reason for you to leave the shop in the first place. Whenever you stray too far outside, you are prone to headaches, dizziness, fatigue, and even fever. It’s best to stay where is familiar, you reason. And Yuuta’s cooking is too good for you to want to eat anywhere else. He makes sure you eat three times a day, at least, and insists you finish your plate every time. Perhaps this is why you can’t stand life outside of this four, cozy walls – where else could you possibly find contentment such as this?

The business is re-named to “Rika’s Flower Shop,” which all three of you find quite agreeable given the current state of affairs. More customers than ever flow in, attracted by the colorful designs hand-painted by Rika herself on the building exterior. You generate enough revenue for additional renovations to be made on the shop. There is enough room in the budget to hire some part-time shop hands – local university students in the area looking to support themselves.

Everything is coming to fruition. For once, you truly feel as though life is blossoming.

And you can attribute all of it, every last bit of happiness, to them: Granny Orimoto, Rika, and Yuuta. The happiness is so overwhelming that you don’t ever want to leave their side, not even to run to the konbini, or to visit the post office. Why would you need to leave, when everything you’ve ever wanted is right here?

You have a family, a home, a life. You’ll remain in this shop with your loves until the day you grow as old and sickly as Granny Orimoto, and you’ll likely die upstairs, lying next to Yuuta, the both of you wrinkled and gray, curled together atop the futon, exactly where Granny had wheezed her last, bitter breath.

You wonder if Rika was there to watch it happen. You wonder if Rika will be there to see the both of you off, too.

You hope so. You really, really hope so.

You’re sure death will be every bit the dream you’re hoping it will be.