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lumi077 · 2 months

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X-Men HCs

A/N: my hyperfixations are not very hyperfixating rn. literally they’re changing so fast. But take some nice little relationship headcanons, and the next Chapter of Winters’ Servants is coming soon!!

Characters included: Logan (Wolverine), Scott (Cyclops), Kurt (NightCrawler), Jean

Warnings: potential OOC, nothing else really. kept it nice and light.

Logan (Wolverine):

Logan would absolutely, if you use them, stretch out your new hairbands for you. If you express that you dislike using them unless stretched, he’ll offer to wear them on his wrists for a day or two till they��re stretched to your liking. It could be the most girly hair ties and he’ll proudly wear three on each wrist. When asked, he’ll happily tell them “Just stretchin ‘em for my woman/man/partner”

Scary dog privileges? Scary dog privileges. He adores making you feel safe enough to wear the most skin revealing or feminine clothing. You want to wear something revealing/very feminine but tell him you're scared? He’ll instantly assure you and tell you to wear anything you want. If someone says something, he won’t hesitate to shut them up before you even hear.

There’s going to be a point in your relationship that you’ll realize he absolutely doesn’t care about any of the gross stuff you do. Burp, Fart, don’t shave? He really doesn’t care in the least bit. Definitely the boyfriend that will go, unphased, into the bathroom while you're on the toilet and brush his teeth or shower without a care in the world. If you are comfortable that is, and he secretly preens when he realizes that you're comfy enough to do that stuff around him lol.

I wholeheartedly believe that when he realizes he wants you to be his forever partner, he’ll gift you his dog tags. His past is very personal to him, because he could never remember it for a good part of it. His dog tags are only second to him getting down on one knee.

Speaking of getting down on one knee, sorry for all the people who want it to be a surprise, but he won’t make a big deal and will tell you about his plans beforehand. No surprise engagement, and no public one. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he wants to make sure you’re ready and want it too. He doesn’t put much on marriage because it doesn’t change much, and doesn't want you to feel pressured to say yes because there are people there. He’ll love you the same married or not, but he does note how pretty you look with the ring he bought you on your finger.

I personally believe he would be more likely to get in a committed relationship with another mutant. I just think a lot of the X-Men would want to be able to relate to their partner and have their partner relate to them, and Logan is going to live a long life so…I can't truly see him with a normal person.

If you are apart of the X-Men, while he won’t baby you or anything, he finds himself keeping an eye on you the most. There have been a fair amount of times that you find yourself having a Logan shield on the field, and even more often if you are susceptible to projectiles.

Dates are a norm at this point, Fridays are always the day he takes you out. It’s usually the same place, but he thinks it’s nice.

Flowers are also a norm, if you mention you like them.

He doesn’t do much on Valentine’s day because he already does all the normal valentine’s day stuff it weekly or bi-weekly. Does get cheat food so you guys can eat it and watch stupid rom com movies though.

Scott (Cyclops):

First and Foremost Scott is such a golden retriever. Anything you want, he obtains quickly and with 0 thoughts of you getting him something in return. He just wants to see his partner happy and healthy, with a smile on their face as often as possible.

He is very big on PDA, likes to hold your hand, or slip an arm around your waist, put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, etc. Overall he just likes touching you, and just because you're in public doesn’t mean anything.

Adding on to his liking of PDA, I feel like he’s possessive. Like in the one X-Men movie, when Logan goes into the past and stops bad shit from happening and goes to touch Jean and he blocks him? Yeah he does that with you but with everyone. He likes people knowing your his and what’s better than you two being attached at the hip in public?

He likes when you wear his things as well, not so much for people knowing you’re his like mentioned above but just because you're adorable in it. Want his sweatshirt? He’s giving it to you even though it's negative 5 out. His cologne? Just take the whole bottle, even though it’s brand new. He’ll get another one!!

When he’s on missions and away, he gives you so many shirts and even a pair of sweats. Sprays the stuffed animals he got you with his cologne, same with your pillows. He will expect the same if it’s you going away for a long time. Or you’ll come back to him sleeping on your side of the bed where it smells the most like you, his face stuffed in one of your pillows that has one of your shirts on it.

He is very vocal about being your boyfriend, and you being his partner. Everyone in the world knows, yet no one asked. He’ll gush about you to whoever will listen, the rest of the team is so done but they do admit his devotion to you is adorable.

All the ladies and gents and nonbinary pals who want an over the top surprise proposal, this is your man. It’s super romantic, he pays for your nails if you wear them, getting your hair done, and a new outfit. And you can’t even tell it’s because he wants to propose because he does this all the time. Then he takes you to your fav restaurant and pops the question.

Make no mistake though, he has to be 100% sure that you want him to propose to do so. He’s so attuned to you and your likings he gets your dream ring without having to ask everyone close to you first. Which also assures him no one can spoil the surprise.

He is one of the few ones who probably doesn’t care if you're a mutant or not, because his love is 100% blind. He would probably want a mutant partner, but once he falls he falls hard.

He also won’t baby you if you’re in the X-Men, but if he happens to laser them first? Not his fault.

Kurt (NightCrawler):

He is a very shy partner at first. But once he falls for you, and you make it obvious you have fallen for him it all goes out the window. He is a completely different person around you, confident and flirty. He is just so in love.

Teases you almost constantly, he’s a teaser with everyone but he loves to see you blush and squirm from his words.

Loves if you run your fingers through his fur, and almost emits a low purr when you do. If you brush it for him, especially if he doesn’t ask you but you WANT to, he swears he is going to marry you one day.

He takes you places you told him you wanted to go to when you guys were in the talking stage. Paris? Done, let’s get some baguettes for back home! The Bahamas? Pack a bathing suit, and make sure to bring the detangling brush.

He loves non sexual acts of intimacy, like taking baths together!! Your fingers feel like heaven on his scalp when you massage the shampoo and conditioner in his hair. He also loves touching your body, he’s always careful with the fact he has claws but he would never dream of hurting you.

Big on cuddling and all that stuff in private, but I feel like he would want to keep it behind closed doors. Not because he doesn’t love you, but because he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands on you otherwise.

Long missions with him are never a problem, he’ll just teleport to you wherever you may be and spend time with you before heading back.

He’s your call bird, and the gossip you two are able to share with one another? It is divine. He seems to know everything, and you know the most obvious stuff but he always makes you feel like Sherlock Holmes when you tell him things he already heard and was going to tell you about. Which is why he always makes you spill the tea first lol.

For marriage and proposing, I can see him accidentally proposing on a mission. Tensions are high, and he’s worried that one of you won’t make it home to the other. The thought alone makes him dread the upcoming battle, but he grabs your hand and looks into your eyes and states with all the conviction in the world “We’ll get married after this.”

You brush it off, after you both survive the battle, that he didn’t mean it. He just wanted you to know how much he loved you. But oh how wrong you are when you walk into a room with all your close friends and family, Kurt in the middle down on one knee and asking you to marry him. Your face was priceless, and lucky for him everyone took pictures.

He definitely carries around a photo with you wherever he goes, and when he prays he takes it out and not only asks that God protect him, but you as well because there is no life beyond you. Even if you’re not religious he’ll still do it, just for the peace of mind.

Jean:

She’s the black cat of the relationship for sure. I mean, she has a lot of issues but she always makes you her first priority.

She keeps tabs on you constantly. What’s your mood, why? She’ll talk to you in your mind when you’re anxious to calm you, and let you know that she’s there with you. She’s probably an anxious persons’ best friend. You don’t even have to talk, she knows what you mean and changes accordingly.

She is big on communication for sure. If you do something that bothers or hurts her feelings she will sit you down and talk to you about it. And she has this certain way of doing that doesn’t make you feel guilty. She’s just letting you know what she does and doesn’t like and won’t tell anyone else. These things are very private to her. And she expects you to do the same, and her feelings are never hurt by it.

Jean’s type of love is selfless. She would put herself in danger tenfold just to keep you safe. Mutant or not, she would be the one to baby you if you’re a part of the X-Men as well. There’s always a kind of bubble around you, that not many but you notice. Hence, people think you’re indestructible because you’re the only one who came back uninjured for the fourth time.

She wants to be independent, but also loves when you do stuff for her. She will never ask, but her heart warms so much when she sees you did something for her because you wanted too and not because she asked.

She plans your dream proposal. She is almost a roommate in your own mind, she knows what you like and don’t like.

Small extra blurb: imagine giving telepathic hints that you want a proposal. She thinks “Why are they broadcasting their ring si-ooooh. I see.”

She is so gentle with you, almost afraid that you’ll break and it’ll be all her fault. The way her hands gently caress you or how she holds your hand is so incredibly gentle.

#xmen #xmen x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #scott summers #scott summers x reader #Cyclops x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner x reader #jean grey #jean grey x reader #xmen headcanon #lumiwritings

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yuusishi · 3 months

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hi could I pls request malleus and Leona headcanon with spouses who are best friends (preferably this takes place alittle bit in the future) my and my friend both love the each and where just talking about how funny it would be for them to have to put up with eachother for their spouses :3

. . . JUST BEAR WITH IT!

pairings : Leona Kingscholar , Malleus Draconia (sep.) x gn!reader

genre : fluff + time skip !

cws/tws : none

a/n : I'm sorry if this might be ass this is the first req I'm working on after my small hiatus 😭

Leona Kingscholar !!

He didn't know if he should be impressed by you being best friends with the literal spouse of Malleus Draconia or the fact they were able to pull him in the first place.

But one thing that he does know is the fact he.does.not.want.to.be.here.

You'd notice that neither Malleus or Leona have changed since graduation. Still the same old tired cat from savanaclaw and the imposing but mainly socially inept fae from diasomnia.

As much as he'd like to bicker with the old prince, he'd prefer not to have (older) Sebek yelling into his ear how "ungrateful" he is for insulting Malleus during their "reunion".

So he sticks to the most passive aggressive jabs you can think of, ones that just almost fly over the fae prince's head. Almost.

These two were one of the smartest third years in their batch after all...

When their side of the table is stuck in a slightly tense silence, he just stares at you and your friend who had the totally opposite atmosphere around you two compared to him and Malleus.

He's glad you're enjoying yourself at least. He doesn't realize it himself but he's unexpectedly enjoying this get-together with old 'friends'.

Honestly you thought he'd be grumbling to himself once you got in the car about how much he dislikes Malleus, but you realize he's in an unexpectedly happy mood (with his resting bitch face still in tact), even agreeing to indulge in co-op gaming or having a movie marathon at home at the cost of staying up late :).

Malleus Draconia !!

😊

He's not one to purposefully rile up others for the sake of his own enjoyment, but if the other person starts it then who is he to reject the invitation to a fun little "argument."

To tell the truth, he was excited for this hang out with your friend. He's glad to meet your bestie and he doesn't mind catching up with a college friend (in his words).

After graduation he doesn't get to be as free as he was in NRC since he was the king now, so this meet up is like a breath of fresh air in the usual stuffy halls of the Briar Valley castle.

He isn't that different compared to Leona, their minced words against each other betraying their friendly smiles while you and your friend continued catching up.

You'd think the words Leona threw at Malleus would annoy the fae at least a tiny bit, but the sky remained as clear and sunny as it was when you left the castle for the day.

He enjoyed this atmosphere that the gathering brought, sometimes even wishing the other NRC students he studied alongside with were present.

Once your back inside the castle, you watch Malleus do his paperwork in his study with a little more pep in his step. He really is still that housewarden of diasomnia you've come to love.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader

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d0youc0py · 11 months

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Can I you do the 141+Konig (or whoever you’d like) realizing that reader feels safe with them?

Love your work!!!!

To outside eyes it was something so simple- but to him it was the highest form of a compliment.

The group was sprawled out all over the living room preparing for the weekly movie night and somewhere between Gaz and Soap arguing who’s turn it was to pick the movie- you had fallen asleep.

Not just that- you had fallen asleep on him. His arm had been draped over the back of the couch and when you could no longer fight back sleep, his side was the perfect pillow. He knew you probably didn’t mean too, but just the fact your bodies natural instinct was to fall in his direction was enough to send a warm buzz through his body.

Sleep had always been a touchy subject for Ghost and Simon. He was lucky if he slept more than four hours a night. Being a light sleeper and falling victim of night terrors made nighttime his least favorite time. He disliked the vulnerability of it.

So the fact that you trusted him in your most vulnerable state was rather precious.

And a mission he wouldn’t take lightly.

Your skin had been crawling for the last fifteen minutes. You’d hope that by ignoring his unspoken advancements he would take a hint, but you were wrong. You peaked at him from the corner of your eyes. He wasn’t unattractive. He had nice features- chiseled but still approachable. Yet something about him just twisted your stomach. Maybe it was the way his eyes were glued to your ass.

Could you handle it yourself- absolutely. Did you feel like having to prove yourself in a bar full of people that you could take care of it yourself- not really. Especially not when you had a Big Bad Captain who could handle it with just a glare. You quickly excused yourself from the rest of the 141, heading over to where Captain Price and Laswell were gossiping.

“Sorry if this is confidential, but a guy over there is giving me the creeps.” You explained.

“The one in the blue jacket?” Price smirked. You went wide eyed and nodded your head wondering how he knew. “Been eyeing you since we walked in. I’ve been keeping an eye on him.” He held out his arm for you and you quickly linked arms with him. The simple action was enough to cause the man to sneer and grumble something to himself. You shot Price a smile and he shot you back a wink.

“That’s why I come to you when I’m scared.” You complimented. You didn’t know it but that comment was the ego boost of a lifetime for him.

Your vision was starting to turn foggy. Buildings became less sharp, people became blurry figures and the ground was looking mighty comfortable. You hands gripped your abdomen the other pressed against the wall.

Your eyes scanned the area, hoping to come across a familiar mohawk. You thought the best route would be to follow the sound of explosions, but that was just bringing you closer to the action.

“Y/N?!” Johnny boomed from behind you. You sighed in relief your back hitting the wall. He caught you before you could sink down completely. “Steamin Jesus.” He grumbled. He worked quick, tearing off a piece of his sleeve and holding it tightly against you wound. He called for an evac. “Why didn’t you call for help?” He scolded. You rested your forehead against his.

“I wanted you.” You mumbled. His hardened face softened- a smile almost ghosting his features. You were sure if you weren’t bleeding out he would’ve made some snarky comment, but neither of you had the energy.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, letting you rest against him.

You don’t know why you agreed to this. Well technically you all voted and you lost but you probably could’ve put up a bigger fight. You hated horror movies. You’d think they wouldn’t bother you given your line of work but you were wrong. You had your sweater pulled up to your forehead trying to block out the urge to take a peak at the TV.

You eventually caved and peaked just in time for a jump scare. You heard a stifled chuckle come from the couch across from you. Kyle was biting back a smile, mouthing a ‘you good.’ You nodded feeling determined to not let the movie get the best of you. That plan was sort lived as a scene so brutal even Ghost had to look away, crossed the screen.

“Don’t be babies!” Soap yelled. You had had enough. While the others were engrossed in the movie you quietly crept over to Kyle’s side of the couch.

“Can I sit with you?” You mumbled. He quickly nodded his head expecting you to sit near him- not press yourself against his side. He chuckled softly, removing his arm from the back of the couch resting it around you.

“You know, performing an exorcism has always been on my bucket list. You’d be in good hands.” He’s always so cheeky.

“Not nice.” You grumbled, sending him a glare. He put his feet up on the coffee table and relaxed against the couch. The calmness in his body started to spread to yours, and pretty soon you had fallen asleep. He was absolutely going to tease you about this later- but for now he was enjoying the prideful bubble in his chest. You had chosen him.

Price tried to take a picture of you two but his flash went off causing everyone to scream.

“Colonel.” You hummed, knocking at the door. His eyes shot it away from his IPad trying to adjust to the darkness of the room.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, beginning to stand up. You shook your hands.

“Nothing.” You lied. You had a nightmare. One so bad your body was still trembling.

“It’s three in the morning. What’s wrong?” He pressed. He stood up, cracking his back. His eyes had finally adjusted enough to see your tear stained face and shaking shoulders. Suddenly he realized. He had woken up enough times like that himself. He walked around his desk and grabbed a spare blanket from underneath the couch. “Come here.”

You did as you were told, smiling softly as he wrapped the fluffy blanket around your body. “You can sleep in here. I have to pull an all-nighter anyways.” He grumbled that last part to himself.

“I won’t bother you?”

“No.” He assured, grabbing a pillow from under the couch. “You’re not the only one who could benefit from some company right now.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You snuggled into the couch and he trudged back over to his desk.

“Thanks Konig.” You mumbled before you finally fell back asleep. He took a moment to stare at your sleeping form. There had been many times he wished someone was there for him in moments of weakness. He was honored you had chosen him to be that person for you.

Thank you for your kind words!

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singmyaubade · 6 months

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Forget-Me-Nots

James Potter x Female!Reader

A/N: Hi there! I haven't written in a while, but this idea just struck me, and because I've been struggling with writer's block, I really needed to write it. In a way, it's my salvation. This is the first series I am starting, but I will be finishing and starting others.

IB: The Other Zoey by Sara Zandieh. (This movie so good by the way).

Summary: James could never forget a love like yours.

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

There were three things that you couldn't stand.

One was really cold classrooms, which not only made you sleepy but also made it difficult to concentrate on your studies. As a result, you started carrying a jumper with you everywhere you went.

The second was being sick; you detested missing out on opportunities and activities due to circumstances beyond your control, as well as how awful it would feel and how little you could do about it.

Three was crying,

Since fifth year, the idea of crying had both repulsed you and made you dislike how vulnerable everything was, as well as when someone felt sorry for you.

Of course, others could cry in front of you and you would give them comfort but you didn't want people to see you in pain and you making it everyone else's problem.

It wasn't right in your book.

But those were the three things you absolutely despised. They were all simple things you could avoid if you truly tried and you had for years.

But if we wanted to add a bonus point,

You would add James Fleamont Potter.

Quite ironic to hate "The Golden Boy,"

It was one of the most funniest cliches that even you could think of.

The girl who basically had no friends or social standing versus the most popular guy in Hogwarts.

Sounds about right.

But the reason that you couldn't include this in the things you couldn't stand is because it was complex. It wasn't simple and it wasn't something that you could easily describe nor avoid.

You couldn't say that you weren't being immature but what James had done had completely indescribably affected you.

To be fair, it was in fifth year and you were now on your seventh year which means the hatred is pre-historic but when 'The James Potter' cheats on you with Jade Davies AKA the girl you despise that has bullied you since first year,

It gets pretty intense.

Since then, you had refused to talk to James and he let you have your space.

Unfortunately, it didn't mean that Jade would stop bullying you but it only meant that she had more material to bully you with but James did his best to help you avoid her by distracting her when you came by or kissing to distract her.

But you weren't thankful for his gestures, you wished nothing but a quaffle to be shoved up his ass in all honestly.

Then again, it was all so long ago and you wanted to let it go and just have fun for your last year.

Which is why you attended the first Quidditch game of the season.

You were practically freezing, hugging your cheeks with your palms. It was especially cold and you forget to bring another jumper to top over the one you had now.

There was loud cheering all around you as you heard a few chants for James as you saw him dive for the golden snitch.

At the same time, the quaffle came fast in the same direction, colliding with James's head.

He went into instant unconsciousness as he was about to dove straight in the ground.

The crowd went silent as James fell in the air but it felt like he was already moving in slow motion.

Your instincts kicked in as you stood and grabbed your wand from your boot "Arresto Momentum!" You yelled, pointing your wand at him as his movements slowed and he hit the grass floor lightly.

You gasped as everyone watched you, their mouthes agaped but a small part of you only cared if James was okay.

You heard people yelling and whispers asking if he was okay and parts about how you had saved him.

But it wasn't your problem.

You grabbed your bag, moving from the stands as you made your way to the castle. Your feet rushed over to your dorm, trying to make it there as fast as you can.

"Y/N!" You heard someone yell as you looked behind you to see Lily.

You looked ahead of you, trying to rush faster and then Lily said, "You saved him," She panted as a few seconds of silence went.

"It wasn't intentional," You responded, rolling your eyes.

"But you did it instantly," She replied, "You saved him," She looked at you as if she was trying to figure you out.

You stuttered, "Y-You said that and shouldn't you be with him?" You questioned, trying to keep your composure.

"You should come with me," Lily said.

"No, that's a bad idea," You declined, "Jade should already be with him," You cleared your throat, setting your book bag on your shoulder again.

"They aren't together," Lily mentioned, "He wants to see you,"

You raised your eyebrow in confusion, why would James want to see you?

"Lily I don't think-" You tried,

"You must!" Lily responded.

"But-" You tried again.

"You have to," Lily sternly said.

"If I do, will you leave me alone?" You asked, her face lighting up as she grabbed your arm dragging you into infirmary.

You both entered the infirmary, surrounded by hospital beds. You looked around at other sick students as Lily dragged you over to where James was laying.

Sirius, Peter, and Remus were around him, quietly talking as you approached him.

He had a harsh, purple bruise on his temple that was the size of your hand and a bandage wrapped around his head.

"James, I got her for you," Lily said as James groaned, blinking to take a good look at you, his eyes still squinting from the light and how much his head hurt.

"Baby," He sweetly said, a wide grin appearing on his lips as he squinted.

Baby.

He hadn't called you that in so long.

You flinched, trying not to show how taken aback you were in order to not freak him out but you were. You looked at the three boys in front of you but they were equally confused too.

"Potter, have you lost your-" You said as Lily elbowed you, earning a hiss from you.

"Play along," Lily mouthed, making you even more confused.

"But-" You were about to speak before Lily pushed you in front of James.

"Um, are you okay?" You asked, looking at him awkwardly.

"I'm amazing now that you are here," He said, smiling.

"Oh that's great!" You fake excitingly said.

"I missed you so much," James took your hand, rubbing it as your face was hit with surprise, "I heard you in my dreams," He dreamingly smiled.

"That's nice," You awkwardly laughed, "You should sleep, your head is probably pounding," You said, patting the back of his hand as he only caressed yours.

"Stay with me?" He asked, drifting into drowsiness.

You looked around at his friends as they urged you to say yes, "Sure," You sighed.

James's eyes closed as you laid his hand next to him on his bed. You watched at how pretty he looked sleeping, his eyelids fluttering but that was before you snapped into reality.

"What is going on?" You asked sternly, crossing your arms.

"Well," Sirius was about to start but Remus continued for him.

"James had called your name on the field after you performed that spell for him," He explained, making you blush, "And he wouldn't stop calling your name until the nurse gave him a drowsy potion,"

Your eyebrow raised, why was James Potter calling for you out of all people? You couldn't help but question the entire thing.

"And why was he calling my name?" You asked.

"We don't know," Lily answered.

"Well, I can't be with him when he wakes up," You said, looking off.

"You have to," Sirius answered, "Prongs can't be stressed out, it will only worsen his brain and he will end up like a pound of sausage," He said, confusing you.

"Great analogy but I really should be-" You started as you were interrupted.

"James!" Jade yelled dramatically, running over to him, "Oh will he make it?" Jade asked, fanning herself as the group rolled their eyes.

"He will be fine," Remus said.

"But I think seeing you will make it worse," Sirius added with a smile.

Jade scowled at him before looking at you, "What is she doing here?" She furiously said.

You were about to speak before Lily did it for you, "He called for her,"

"No he didn't," Jade laughed, dismissing the ridiculous thought.

"But he did," Peter said as Jade has a disgusted look on her face.

"Well I'm his girlfriend so I'm sure he will want to see me," Jade boasted as if she only cared about the label and not the fact that James had truly gotten hurt.

"You guys have been broken up for six months," Sirius scoffed.

"I would prefer on a break," Jade corrected, glaring at Sirius.

"Okay well, this has nothing to do with me," You said, trying to move past Jade but she blocked you.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jade asked.

"Moving out of the way so that you can coddle James and kiss his boo boo's away," You mocked.

"Honestly, I keep forgetting that James chose me over you, it's actually quite hilarious," Jade smirked as you rolled your eyes.

"Congrats on being easy, it's one of your best accomplishments," You insulted, trying to move past her but failing once again.

"Nice of you to assume that James was only with me because I'm "easy," She gaped, causing you to step back.

"Seriously bugger off Jade," Sirius defended.

Jade kept going, "Or are you sure it's not because I'm better than you in everything I do and that James couldn't stand to be with you for another second with your daddy issues and a failure at everything," She aggrieved.

Your eyes watered as Madam Pomfrey came in, "Oh Mr. Potter must have a lot of admirers," She joked as you only smiled in return, "Which one of you is the famous Y/N?" She asked, looking between you, Jade, and Lily.

You spoke, "I am,"

She smiled at you, "He had been calling you for ages, what a beautiful girlfriend he's got,"

"I'm actually not his-" You started but the nurse kept going.

"Mr. Potter will be fine but a few things are jumbled in there" She said, checking his vitals, "It's best if he isn't stressed out or confused because it could only make matters worse," She finished, looking at all of you.

You all nodded in reply, "Other than that, he is good to go tomorrow morning but he can only have two visitors tonight," She mentioned, exiting.

"Y/N, you should stay with him," Peter said shyly.

"I don't think-" You started before you were interrupted.

You were getting tired of being interrupted.

"No, James would wanna see me," Jade almost yelled.

"You will only give James more brain damage, Y/N stays," Lily spat, clearly annoyed by Jade.

Jade huffed, "I will be back in the morning," She stomped away.

"We'll leave you to it," Remus said as Sirius smirked, leaving with the group as Lily squeezed your shoulder before exiting too.

You sat on the chair next to James's bed, wondering how you got in this situation in the first place.

And then you wondered how you would get out of it.

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freyito · 7 months

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ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ & ᴋᴇɴꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴀʜᴀꜱʜɪ + ᴀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ-ꜱᴛᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

this ones super self-indulgent, simply cause im in a bit of a mood and i need comfort. so why not write little drabbles with my HUSBANDS!!!! sorry im still working on requests! my schedule is packed and thursdays are about the only days i get to myself, so im working on them, i swear!!!

for more context, there's a couple different ways people can be touch-starved and how people react. i know some people seek out touch actively, but im one of the people who has an aversion to it. that's why it's written like the reader doesn't quite enjoy it!

also, this was kind of inspired by Kocham Wolność by Chłopcy z Placu Broni

cw: male reader, just fluff really, bonus, proofread

-Johnny Cage

Johnny's flashy, touchy, and over-the-top. Of course he is, he has to be. With his status, he wants everyone to know exactly who you are and show you off. You're all his, and only his, and he needs every single one of his fans to know.

So when you shy away from his touch, dodge away from his hand, or even keep your distance the very first time, his heart shatters. He doesn't quite know how to handle it. But he doesn't go with the same approach. He doesn't give up, either.

He's a sucker for physical touch, and if he's denied it, he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He quite literally looks down at them and wonders what he can do.

His first thought is that you dislike him, actually. That you hate him. He has a deep-seated fear of rejection, and for his beloved to turn away from his warmth and love, it stings. He overthinks, and he reacts as such.

Johnny is a 50/50 with being logical. It depends where he is and what environment he is in. However, with love, where he is completely and utterly vulnerable, giving his all to his boyfriend, logic does not take place with his emotions. He does not think that you do not seek the touch he seeks, he craves.

But, before he can let that vile, horrid, agonizing feeling in the back of his throat take hold, there's slight reassurance. A soft gaze that mends his broken heart, if only for a moment. That's when he finally rationalizes.

You don't even need to tell him at that point, he silently understands. Besides, he has other ways he can show his love for you. Spoils you rotten, tells you all he loves about you. See, he can find ways to make up for the lack of physical touch!

Johnny makes sure to ask you before any physical encounter. He asks to hold your hand, asks to hug you, asks to hold you, asks everything. And each time you say yes, he has the biggest grin on his face.

One night, while you two were sitting on the hood of Johnny's car by some cliff,- like those stupid romantic scenes in movies- you lean over to Johnny and rest your head on his shoulder. Your arms are touching, his shoulder provides a comfortable pillow. You feel safe. Gazing at the very few stars scattered in the sky, the night sky's beauty stolen by the city below (and by you, Johnny says). Johnny's beaming. He's trying so hard not to show it, he's trying to act cool. But he can't. He's almost vibrating because of the butterflies in his stomach. He's proud of you, he's in love with you, and god, he's so happy. He leans his head on yours, and whisper all sorts of sweet things, 'I love you', 'You mean so much to me', 'You're the most beautiful man I know', and 'Thank you'.

-Kenshi Takahashi

Since Kenshi focuses on touch mainly in the relationship, he has to re-evaluate how he goes about this without touch. He doesn't start off with it, like Johnny does. But he slowly builds up to it. And when he tries to place a hand on your shoulder, feeling you completely dodge him almost feels humbling.

He's at a loss. But unlike Johnny, his first thought is the right one. Perhaps you aren't ready, you aren't comfortable. And that's okay. He's going to think of different ways to seek out your affection, even though physical touch is the only way he really understands love.

But, he also understands. He knows what it's like to dislike touch, after years of hollow touch and forced affection. And he understands if you just don't trust him enough, he's empathetic.

He'll wait for you, however long it takes. He isn't afraid to admit it's a bit disheartening, but he understands and he loves you and he will always wait for you. He still cherishes your time together, and it isn't spoiled one bit. Besides, he can tell you just how much he adores you. He doesn't have to rely on touch every time.

Like Johnny, he will always ask. But he does prefer that you make the first move, at that point. Any little touch, he also cherishes. Even if it's your hand accidentally brushing against his while walking. You always catch a small smile from him when that happens.

He's happy as is, really. The lack of physical touch doesn't take away anything from the relationship or from you. Simply basking in your presence is enough for you. He adores you, and he knows you're his as much as he's yours. That understanding is really the only thing he craves in the relationship.

He relishes in every little touch you give him, however. Simply holding hands is the most intimate thing to him. He isn't big on PDA, but he loves holding your hand anywhere in public. Even if Sento offers slight guidance to him, he loves knowing you're there to guide him.

The night you finally initiated contact, he fell deeper in love with you. It was quiet, alone, still. In your room, you lay next to him, simply enjoying the pleasures of the mundane. You reach for his hand, and gently trace the ink on his hands. He's calm, collected, but inside burns a fire so bright, that you can feel his body temperature rise. He slowly turns his hand, opening his palm to you. For a moment, your fingers linger, tracing the creases in his hand, before finally intertwining your fingers with his. He turns his head to you, a soft and inviting small on his face. He breaks the silence, whispering an 'I love you, so much', before the silence lay over you two once more.

-Bonus! Johnny Cage AND Kenshi Takahashi

They both agree not to smother you and take their time with you and your comfort. Since most dates and activities will always center around all three of you, they're specifically gentle with you, and are rather hands off with both you and each other (as hard as that is for them).

Just because they are comfortable with each other and each other's touch, doesn't mean they are going to flaunt it. Kenshi believes the ideal is to slowly incorporate you into events. To suffocate you with the idea of touch is too much.

And they do just that. Johnny follows Kenshi's lead, really. Neither of them can live without your touch, and the idea of turning you away is a mutual fear.

When you found yourself between Kenshi and Johnny, simply "watching" a movie from Johnny Dearest, you ended up placing your head in Kenshi's lap, and your legs in Johnny's. You were tired, that was all. Just so happens you had the most comfortable men to lay on. Johnny gave Kenshi the most bewildered look, before realizing the man was still blind. But regardless, Kenshi almost shared the sentiment. However, Kenshi didn't waste his chance. He places his hand on your head, scratching at your scalp. While Johnny just revels in the fact that you've finally warmed up to them.

#*ੈ✩ freyito #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 x male reader #mortal kombat x male reader #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x male reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi takahashi x male reader #johny cage x reader x kenshi takahashi

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kaylasficrecs · 9 months

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stupidly yours | miguel o'hara

you found your roommate stupidly annoying, from the girls he brought home, to the way he never cleans up. so why, all of a sudden, was he trying to get into your good graces? (this is a horrible summary, i didn’t really know how to explain this one.)

college roommate!miguel au. he could still be spider-man 2099 in this, but it doesn’t pertain to the plot of the fic.

note: this was technically a request, but i think i deleted it before i knew i was going to start posting fics. sorry anon! this one's for you! also i didn't use too much spanish except for a couple of words because i hardly know any of the language (i know waaayy more french).

tw: talks of Miguel’s toxic family, language (pls let me know if there are others)

wc: 2k

It’s not that you didn’t mind your roommate Miguel, but you thought about throttling him regularly.

Between the girls he brought home and his sometimes too-brutal of honesty, you’ve thought about packing your stuff and sleeping under a bridge (not that there were many bridges in Neuvea York) instead of dealing with O’Hara on a daily.

But instead, you got your shit together and just retaliated in other ways.

You stopped cleaning up his shit, because sometimes he was indeed a college guy, and you were tired of being that nice of a person to do his dishes, vacuum, dust, and clean his stuff. You stopped buying groceries and making meals for both of you. Whenever he brought a girl over to his room while you were in the apartment, you blasted the High School Musical soundtracks. Yes, all three of them. You had heard doors and slam and groans of frustration in lieu of this, but Miguel never argued with you about it.

Because that was the thing, he knew he was being a prick, but it didn’t ever seem to occur to him that it would affect the people in his life. Or that he should apologize for it.

The last part of your ‘Miguel must be put in his place’ plan was if he was ever extra rude to you during a conversation, you would just stop talking to him. At first, it annoyed the hell out of him, he couldn’t seem to figure out why you had simply stopped talking to him at the moment. He would get even more frustrated, his brown eyes seemly burning red. But he was smart (smarter than you probably) and put it all together pretty fast. So now when those moments happen, he would apologize softly. Which in turn, surprised you. You never thought you would hear a “sorry” muttered from his lips.

After enough apologies from O’Hara, you decided to let up on some of the parts of your plan. You stopped playing music loudly unless they were being extra loud during sex. You started cleaning up again because honestly, it was starting to bother you too. But what surprised you the most, was that Miguel met you halfway: brought over fewer girls, - and when he did, he kept it quiet - helped you with dishes, and started taking out the trash all of the time. Miguel even started cooking for the both of you. When both of you were home for dinner, you would sit on the floor in front of the small living room TV, and eat and watch a show together.

More time spent together meant getting to know each other better. You told him about your family, and he told you about his fucked up one. You discussed likes and dislikes, learning that he couldn’t stand trashy Mexican food from fast-food places; making you swear you would never bring home Taco Bell again.

You started to maybe feel things for him after you fell asleep on him during one of your dinner-and-a-movie nights. And it wasn't the fact that you fell asleep that made butterflies form in your gut, but that you woke up in your bed the following day. It had taken you a few minutes to piece it together through the drowsiness, but you realized he had carried you from the couch to your bed. You had been pouring yourself coffee when you came to that realization. Let’s just say most of the coffee didn’t go into the mug.

The next time you started to blush after thoughts of Miguel was when he came from work to drive you home in the rain. After living together for so long, you got used to each other schedules, even before you started spending all this time together. So when it was raining Wednesday night after coming from the library, you weren’t nervous about Miguel knowing where you were, more just shocked. The library on campus wasn’t too far from where you guys lived, so you always walked. But you would have at least brought an umbrella if you were expecting rain. The downpour opening the doors outside made you face the fact that you would likely catch a cold.

To the left of the doors though was Miguel's fancy sports car; rolling down a window, yelling at you to get in.

As you shut the door, setting your backpack on the floor, you asked, “How… Why are you here?”

“I got off work a little early. And seeing it rain, I decided picking you up on my way home was way easier than dealing with you with a cold for the next few days.”

You looked at him aghast. Of course, he was a bit of a jerk about it, but the actual gesture made you pause. A few months ago, you would have never thought he would do this. Even now, you had never known Miguel to be this generous to anyone.

You tried to hide your small smile as he started the drive home, but you don’t think it worked because you saw one on his face too.

But the worst part for you was that he kept on picking you up. Week after week, Miguel would text you after he was done with work and pick you up to take you home from the library on campus (even though it really wasn’t that far of a walk). Soon after, he started dropping you off on his way to work too.

Miguel kept up the niceties till Christmas: carrying all the groceries (now that you were back to paying for them since he cooked for you both now almost on a daily), letting you fall asleep on him, not bringing girls around, buying you coffees, opening doors, and letting you pick movies for your dinner nights.

He made it really hard not to fall for him.

Then Christmas time rolled around. You knew it was hard for everyone that didn’t have the best family relationships, especially in Miguel’s case where he didn’t really have anyone left that was a good human being. Finals must have also rubbed off on him, he was snappy and rude to you for the weeks leading up to the holiday. He didn’t cook and barely ate for himself.

You gave him a pass this time, mostly because you owed it to him for being so nice to you, but also because maybe you liked him. Just a little bit.

So you tried to cook, were patient with him, let him pick the movie, and hopefully cheered him up some days with one of your sarcastic jokes. You didn’t want to leave him alone. But come December 23rd, and you had to go home for the holidays.

You had your suitcase all packed for the coming week, ready to say goodbye to Miguel, when he hugged you. He hugged you. He was a massive person but felt so small wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your shoulder. It felt like an atonement for all the bad things he has said or done the past few days. You wrapped your arms around his neck in gratitude, threading a hand through his hair, whispering in his ear, “Please call me. If you need anything.”

When he finally let go, Miguel’s arms still slung loosely around your waist, you met his eyes, and reached up to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. He leaned into your touch, so you pushed a little further and kissed his jaw, “I’ll be back after New Year’s.”

His hands tightened around you, eyes closed, and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t think of what more to say in the moment and didn’t want to ruin the soft glow that surrounded you both. You slowly pulled away, taking quiet breaths as you left the apartment. You desperately tried to forget about him while you were home.

But that wasn’t going to happen, as Miguel showed up at your parents’ front door three days later. Thank goodness it was you who answered the knocking late one night, as your parents were getting ready for bed, your siblings nowhere near the door.

“Miguel, what-” you backtracked, “are you okay?”

“I was going to call bella. Prometo. But I just needed to see your eyes. Just for a few seconds.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. You bit your lip and twiddled your fingers, wanting to help Miguel, truly, but you were nervous about how your parents would react to you bringing a 6’ 6” man into the home randomly. And at night.

“I-”

He didn’t even let you get a word in, “I apologize bella, I should not have sprung upon you like this. I will just see you at the apartment in a few days.”

Before he could fully turn around, you grabbed his wrist, caressing his hand as you slotted your fingers in between. Yes, it would be hell to talk to your parents about Miguel staying, but you knew you didn’t want him to leave. “Wait just… come inside.” You pulled him in, staring up into his eyes as you reached around to close and lock the door, “Stay right and let me… uhh… discuss with my parents, okay? But please, don’t leave, we’ll figure something out.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you gently slid your hand from his, walking toward the back of the house where your parents were.

Though it was one of the most awkward conversations of your life, your parents agreed to let Miguel stay the night, they could all discuss details in the morning, and formally meet him when they were wide awake.

You were going to let Miguel sleep on your bed and you take the couch, as your house didn’t have a guest room, and he was too big for said couch, but he insisted you could share your full-sized bed, and you really didn’t want to upset him more by arguing with him at this time of night.

You asked no questions about why he showed up at your house, just got ready for bed. He already showed up in more relaxed clothes so he could just hop right into bed. He was sound asleep by the time you got done with your shower and face care routine. Slowly slipping under the covers, you studied his face; still seeing the grimace he always wore, even in his sleep. It made you worry and smile at the same time, you wished you could ease whatever pain had caused him to come to see you in such a state. Clearly needing comfort, you brushed some hair back from his face, “Sweet dreams, Miguel.”

Sometime during the night, you swore you felt that same softness again, his arms cradling you, his breath softly blowing your hair. But when you woke up, the side he slept on was only faintly warm, a sign that he had been gone for just only a little while; a note laid on your nightstand:

Thank you for everything last night. I just needed to escape to you from these past few days. I can explain everything when you come home. I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful I’m sorry I left. Tell your parents I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to meet them, but thank them for letting me stay in their home with their precious daughter. Happy New Year bella,

Miguel

If it weren’t for your stupid family you would rush to the apartment, or home, as Miguel had put it.

With those words, he had confirmed it, you were stupidly in love with him. His stupidly warm eyes, his stupidly thoughtful actions, stupid full lips, stupid words (stupidly round ass), and most of all, his stupidly wonderful soul. He could pretend to be a hardass, mean, rude man to everyone but you.

And January 2nd couldn’t come soon enough, for your stupid brain could only think about Miguel’s arms holding you tightly once again.

©mixedficrecs 2023

thanks for reading <3

note: i think i might do a sequel to this one, let me know if you are interested!

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderverse #atsv #mcu #imagine #flangst #comfort #fluff #fanfic #my writing #writing #request #fem!reader #reader insert #au #roommate!miguel

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witchslove · 2 years

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I Can Do It Better

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: When you find out your best friend has never had an orgasm, you help her out.

Warnings: 18+ nsfw content; smut, bottom!wanda, fingering, semi-clothed sex, drinking games, cheating(?)

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“Never have I ever had a boyfriend.”

Wanda threw her head back in a laugh at your statement and took a swig of her drink. “Well, obviously. You don’t like guys,” she said, glaring at you playfully.

“Anything is fair game in Never Have I Ever, Wands,” you retorted with a smug smile on your face. “And technically I could’ve in the past before I realized it.”

“Fair point,” she mused, giggling as she began to think of one for you.

The two of you had decided to have some sort of a girls’ night, which consisted of watching a movie and getting drunk. After the movie ended, you were a little more than halfway through a pack of beers and decided to play some drinking games.

You and Wanda were long-time best friends and told each other nearly everything so you figured a friendly game of Never Have I Ever couldn’t hurt. If anything, you might find out something you didn’t know and it would only bring the two of you closer.

Wanda racked her brain trying to think of something she’d never done that you had. She finally landed on one and before her slightly drunk brain could register just how personal it was, she blurted it out.

“Never have I ever had an orgasm.”

If you had been drinking from your beer, you were sure you would’ve spit it out everywhere.

Wanda’s face paled as she realized what she just said out loud to her best friend; it was something she’d never told anyone before.

She couldn’t go back in time and not say it, so she just looked at you and waited for you to take a drink, because that was the rule of the game. She hoped you would brush it off and take your turn, but you didn’t.

“What about… I thought you and Vision…” you said, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Wanda sighed, her cheeks turning rosy. “Um, yeah, we did but he didn’t- I didn’t…” she mumbled out, feeling shy.

You sat there, processing what she was telling you. It didn’t surprise you that Vision wasn’t good in bed. You’d never really liked him and you’d told Wanda she could do better, but she disagreed with you. He was the first guy to ever put in real effort on dates and he was kind, if not a little odd.

You tried to appreciate him for at least that and at the end of the day you just wanted to see the brunette happy. Sometimes you weren’t sure if you just wanted to dislike him because she wanted to date him instead of you.

No, she was your best friend. You didn’t see her that way - or at least that’s what you told yourself.

“And you’ve never… you know, touched yourself?” you asked awkwardly, not really wanting to pry or make her uncomfortable, but genuinely curious. Her admission caught you terribly off guard and you weren’t sure if it was your interest as her best friend or your interest as someone who maybe wanted to be more than friends that pushed you to drag out the conversation.

Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. “No,” she said quietly. “I mean I’ve tried, I just… couldn’t get there.” As the words left her mouth, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She was certain the night couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

The image of Wanda with her hand between her legs trying desperately to get herself off flashed in your mind and you had to suppress the groan you wanted to let out at the thought of it.

“I’m sorry,” you responded, causing her to look up at you inquisitively. “That you’ve never, you know.”

It could’ve been the way you said it or it could’ve been the drinks, Wanda didn’t know, but either way she was speaking once again before she could stop herself. “Is it as good as everyone says it is?”

“It’s better,” you muttered, immediately feeling bad when you saw a frown overtake her features. “I mean, it’s okay I guess.”

Wanda let out a defeated sigh. “I wish I knew what it was like, I feel like it’s this big inside joke everyone’s in on except me,” she said dejectedly. When you turned to her, she was playing with her fingers in her lap, a nervous habit of hers that you found adorable if not a little disheartening knowing she was anxious. “Vis and I tried and he- he got there. But I don’t know, I don’t think I did.”

“Oh, trust me, you would know if you did,” you quipped, trying to lighten the mood. You realized that was the wrong thing to say when she brought her knees up to her chest and avoided eye contact.

“Wanda,” you started, scooting closer to her. “It’s okay that you haven’t, I was just surprised is all. I don’t want to see you sad over this, how can I get that pretty smile back on your face?”

“Give me an orgasm,” she joked, but it came out sounding more like a demand.

You stopped breathing for a second, not sure if she meant it or not. “Do you really want that?”

It was her turn to tense up, taken aback by your response. Her eyes met yours and she could sense your nerves, which mirrored her own. “You- you would do that?”

“I mean… I could,” you swallowed. “But would it be weird?”

She stared at you thoughtfully for a moment before replying. “I don’t think so. It would just be a friend helping out another friend, right?”

“Yeah,” you lied, knowing that doing this favor for her would be dangerous for you and your repressed crush on the brunette. “Right, exactly… a friend helping a friend.”

“Okay,” she paused and took a breath. “Then yes.”

“Yes?” Your mind was reeling with what was happening and you were struggling to keep up.

“Yes, I want… that. For you to…” she trailed off, waiting for it to click in your mind.

“Oh, right, yeah.” Your body felt warm and you worried your hands would start sweating. “Okay, so just… here? Now?”

“I don’t see why not,” Wanda answered, fidgeting.

“How much did you drink?” You really didn’t want to miss an opportunity to touch the girl you’d been fighting the urge to want for so long, but you definitely weren’t going to take advantage.

“A little more than two beers. I’m fine, Y/N, I’m not drunk.”

You looked into her eyes for any sign that she was lying and all you saw was anticipation.

You nodded, before trying to figure out how you would do what she asked of you. “Lay down, get comfortable.”

She complied, leaning back against her pillows before looking up at you expectantly. You cleared your throat, your mouth feeling suddenly dry. Mentally trying to shake away your nerves, you moved closer so you were hovering over her.

“Is this okay?” You wanted to be sure she really wanted this.

“Yes,” Wanda breathed out. “Now get on with it.” You both chuckled and the suffocating tension began to ease up.

“Yes ma’am,” you said teasingly, before leaning forward. “Um, can I kiss you? Or do you just want me to…”

Wanda blushed, almost looking away. “If you think it will help, then it’s okay.”

You smiled reassuringly and leaned in, closing your eyes as you pressed a featherlight kiss to the corner of her mouth. Pulling away to read her reaction, you noticed her pupils had dilated and couldn’t help but smirk before attaching your lips to hers.

You kissed her slowly and gently as if to let her know she could stop you at any time, but she didn’t. She lifted her head to deepen it, following your lead as she moved her mouth against yours.

Your tongue swiped against her lips to ask for entry and she opened her mouth in response. The first touch of your tongues together made her moan softly into your mouth and you felt a pang of arousal upon hearing it. You wanted, no, needed, to get more of those sounds out of her.

You broke the kiss to trail your lips down her jaw and neck. You kissed the skin and sucked lightly, avoiding leaving any marks. Once you reached her ear, you took the lobe between your teeth and gave it a soft tug, noticing the way her body shuddered beneath you.

You pulled away to take her in, enjoying the sight of her so clearly worked up already. Her eyes were dark, her chest heaving. She looked adorable biting her lip as she looked up at you.

Your fingers played with the hem of her shirt, sliding into the fabric to touch heated skin, silently asking for permission to keep going.

She gave you an enthusiastic nod and you let your hands explore freely, finding her covered breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze. Her breath hitched in her throat and you wanted more. Removing your hands for just a moment, you slipped them under the cups of her bra, letting your fingers brush against her straining nipples.

A whimper escaped her mouth at the feeling of your hands on her and the delicious sound made you throb.

You decided against putting your mouth on her breasts and sucking the sensitive buds into your mouth because, as much as you wanted to, you weren’t sure if she wanted to be so exposed to someone that wasn’t her boyfriend. This wasn’t supposed to be anything more than you helping your best friend solve a problem, scratch an itch. The last thing you wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

You removed your right hand from her bra and brought it down to just where her skirt ended. “Are you ready?” you asked, drawing teasing circles on the soft skin of her thigh.

“Yeah,” Wanda answered breathily. “Please.”

The sound of her begging made your head fuzzy, but you focused on the task at hand: giving Wanda an orgasm. Just the thought of what was about to happen made you undeniably aroused.

Your hand moved up her thigh, under her skirt, until you reached her underwear. You ran your fingers along the front of her panties, almost moaning at the wetness you felt seeping through the fabric.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, heat settling low in your stomach at the realization that Wanda was this wet for you.

Wanda was underneath you, so turned on from your touch that she was dripping and making a mess in her panties.

You applied more pressure, finding her clit through the fabric and rubbing small circles into it.

Wanda threw her head back and whined, her hips jerking up at the new sensation. “That- that feels really good.”

You smiled and stopped only long enough to tug her panties down her legs. She kicked them off and spread her legs when you brought your other hand down to pry them open.

Your fingers immediately went back to their place on her clit, massaging it more purposefully now that you were touching her without any barriers.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” she moaned, her face scrunched up in pleasure.

Her bare pussy felt amazing under your fingertips, her clit pulsing and folds drenched. She felt soft and warm against you and you were already addicted.

You dragged your fingers through her slick folds, nudging her clit on each upstroke, drawing cute whimpers from her. Straightening your middle finger, you slid it into her slowly, watching her face for any signs of discomfort. You knew she wasn’t a virgin, but you wanted to be gentle and work her up to an earth-shattering orgasm.

She moaned at the intrusion, her throbbing pussy practically sucking your finger in as deep as it would go. You moved it slowly in and out before adding another finger, making her gasp and buck her hips.

You could definitely get used to the feeling of her velvety walls clenching around you, but you quickly shook the thought from your head. This was a one time thing, a favor and nothing more.

You began to thrust your fingers inside her at a steady rhythm, curling them in search of the spot that would make her scream.

You knew you found what you were looking for when she let out a choked moan, her back arching off the bed.

“God, that feels - oh - so good,” Wanda panted out, desperately gripping the sheets for something to hold on to.

You brought your thumb up to rub her clit in time with your thrusts, smiling to yourself at the way her hips couldn’t seem to stay still.

Your free hand came to her waist, pinning her down as you continued to pleasure her.

“You look so pretty like this, Wands,” you said, unconcerned with whether or not you might regret saying too much. “I can’t wait to see you fall apart for me.”

The moan that followed your words was nothing short of needy and loud. You couldn’t help but take a mental note that she liked being talked to while she was getting fucked.

Whatever you were doing to her, it was working. Wanda had never felt like this even when she tried to grope her own tits and slip her own fingers inside herself. She felt a tight heat deep within her, building up, begging to be released. Her whole body felt like it was burning, a delicious warmth that started deep in her core where your fingers expertly curled against a spot she didn’t even know existed, spreading out like wildfire across the rest of her body.

She didn’t know it could feel like this. With Vision, it started out as a dull pain from him entering her with little to no foreplay besides a lengthy makeout session. At some point it had felt nice and she could feel herself craving for a release, but it never came. He didn’t really bother to touch her clit, nor did he manage to hit whatever heavenly spot you were stroking over and over again, making her see stars.

You were nothing like him; the way you were touching her was unthinkable. She didn’t even know it was possible to feel this good.

She was close, so close she could taste it and she almost didn’t want it to end so soon. But as much as she wished she wasn’t coming undone so embarrassingly quickly, she also wanted it more than anything in the world.

With your eyes on her, dark and full of lust, your mouth saying things that made her even wetter if that was possible, and your fingers curled deep inside, she knew she was about to break.

“I think- fuck, I think I’m gonna-” Wanda tried to get out between moans and whimpers. “It feels so…”

You leaned down until your lips were nearly touching her ear, so close she could feel your warm breath sending shivers down her spine. “Come for me, Wanda. Make a mess on my fingers.”

That was all it took for Wanda to tumble over the edge into pure bliss. Her back arched and her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth hung open in a silent scream as she trembled beneath you. Her legs closed around your hand, trapping you there, not that you had any intentions of leaving just yet, your fingers still pumping slowly inside her as she twitched against the bed.

She clutched the sheets so tightly she was almost worried she might rip them but she couldn’t be bothered to care. She couldn’t even form a coherent thought as she rode out her orgasm, pulsing around your fingers and coating them in sticky wetness.

When she finally came down, she laid there trying to catch her breath as your movements slowed to a stop. You tenderly pulled out, making her whine either from the emptiness or the sensitivity, and wiped your fingers off on the sheets.

She hummed as her pussy clenched with the aftershocks, finally calming down enough to open her eyes and look at you.

When she did, she almost felt ready to go again. You were laying by her side now, still facing her, but what really drove her insane was the way you were looking at her. Your gaze was hungry, your eyes twinkling and lips parted to let out uneven breaths.

She could see in your face that you wanted her and she couldn’t remember ever feeling so desired, not even by her own boyfriend.

The moment lasted but a second before you were sporting a smug grin like your normal self again. “How was that?”

Wanda laughed. “Did you like… miss everything that just happened?” she joked, making you chuckle with her. “It was amazing. Thank you.”

“As good as everyone says it is?”

“It’s better,” she repeated your words from earlier back to you and you beamed at the compliment.

“Glad I could help,” you paused, trying to decide if you should say what you really wanted. “I think… I think you should break up with Vision.”

Her eyes widened, but she let you continue.

“You deserve someone who can please you like that all the time. And it’s really not that hard if they’re actually paying attention to you and what you like. I’m not telling you what to do or trying to ruin something that makes you happy. I just think you deserve better.”

Her heart fluttered with how much you cared about her and she didn’t know how to respond, feeling uncharacteristically shy in the face of a serious conversation about feelings, so she teased you instead. “So what you’re saying is I deserve mind-blowing orgasms.”

You snorted at that before answering. “Something like that.”

“Okay then give me another one.” She wasn’t sure where her boldness came from, but she couldn’t take it back now.

“What?” Your mouth dropped open in shock.

“I said…” She leaned forward until your faces were inches apart. “Give me another one.”

“What about Vision?”

Wanda’s face softened, her tone becoming more serious. “I think I actually am gonna break up with Vision,” she admitted. “Not just because of what you said. Although you were right.”

“That you deserve mind-blowing orgasms?”

She slapped you on the shoulder, laughing. “No! Well, yes, but about all the other stuff too.”

You smiled at her and couldn’t resist messing with her again. “So, about what you said…” You reached out to place a hand on her waist, gripping her hip with a smirk forming on your face as you leaned in. “I’m guessing no one’s ever tried to make you come with their mouth?”

Her breath hitched. “No,” she replied, biting her lip in anticipation.

“Let me make you feel good.”

She nodded and you lowered your head, excited to give in to temptation. As soon as she felt your mouth on her, she knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff imagine #bottom wanda maximoff #top reader #alexa writes

2K notes · View notes

hollybell51 · 10 months

Note

here me out. Adam Warlock and sex pollen.

It's ok - one

Navigation

Part two

Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: foreign flora has an unexpected effect on your human physiology.

Content: sex pollen and associated DUBCON, fuck-or-die, smut, maybe very slight perviness (but I don't think it's creepy or really triggering), Adam being down bad, SMUT. Gratuitous smut. Non-explicit masturbation, handjobs (kinda), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's a virgin, reader isn't, bit on angst, unresolved, there will be part 2. Maybe some out of character-ness, but it's hard cause he only had like 10 minutes screen time so what I've written is based on my own interpretation and what I've read since I watched the movie

Notes: I hear you anon! I actually haven't done sex pollen before, though I always found it kinda fun, so this was new to me. I actually wrote a part 2 which I'll post with this, and that's much of the same xx. Also sorry I haven't done anything in ages, I've been super under the weather and busy so I haven't really had time lmao. Anyways, have fun with this!

“Hey, did you get through those notes?” Your voice echoed in the stillness of the forest, seeming to bounce off the lush petals of the giant flowers towering overhead. The local flora was all supersized, bigger than anything Adam had ever seen, and filtered the harsh light of the planet’s nearest star in sickly sweet hues of pinks, greens, yellows and even blue.

“Breathable atmosphere, mostly docile wildlife. Predators are nocturnal.”

“Ok, just… How much longer are we gonna be out here?”

Adam turned, letting the machete you’d armed him with – “bush bashing. Gotta learn those life skills, huh?” – hang by his side. You were panting, face flushed and beaded with sweat as you planted your hands on your hips and frowned at him. Even like this, speckled with bright yellow and orange pollen and clearly uncomfortable, Adam couldn’t ignore the odd swooping sensation in his gut. It was like someone was constantly pulling a rug from under his feet.

He checked the time displayed on the tablet. “Two hours. Maybe less. Are you ok?”

You groaned, but nodded and walked the few paces to stand beside him. “Goddamn flower dumped its load all over me. You sure this shit is breathable?”

The atmosphere. Right, you were joking about the humidity. “If you don’t mind a bit of a steam,” he tried, smiling at the short bark of laughter the remark conjured.

You tapped his machete-holding hand, jerking your head towards the wall of fleshy greenery. “Nice. Let’s just get this over with.”

Adam simply nodded. The falling feeling had been replaced by something warm and sticky, the simple touch and your laugh flowing like syrup to sit low inside him. It had been like this for a while now, since he’d started really talking to you, spending time with you, noticing things about you. Like your hair, now dusted with fiery plant spores and stuck to your forehead, and how it caught the lights of Knowhere just right when you sat down beside him to eat. Or the little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you smiled – really smiled. The High Evolutionary had disliked wrinkles and other physical signs of ageing, viewed them as imperfect and a blight on existence. Adam could have stared at yours all day.

“Can I see that?”

Again, Adam stopped and turned. You were craning at the tablet, your hand absently running around the collar of your suit.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just… It’s really hot. Do you feel that?”

Adam shrugged. Temperature wasn’t a huge concern to him, but you looked truly uncomfortable now. “Humidity can often make it feel hotter than it is.”

“I know, but…” You grimaced, pulling your collar down further and wriggling your shoulders. “I feel really hot. Worse than before.”

Adam frowned. He knew humans were often sensitive to their environment, much more so than was practical, but you seemed more affected than you should be. There were places on Earth hotter than the current reading, you’d told him that, so why were you–?

The comm on his wrist buzzed, Rocket’s voice crackling across the emergency frequency. “Warlock? You copy?”

“Yeah,” Adam replied, still watching you. You were taking a semi-restrained drink from your flask, no doubt aware that it had to last the whole trek and back.

“Is (Y/N) with you?”

“Yeah, why?” As he watched, you held the back of your hand up to your forehead, then your cheek, then your neck. The suit still seemed to be bothering you.

“Are you on the ground?”

“Yes.”

“You need to get out of there.”

Adam didn’t think he was imagining the urgency in the raccoon’s voice, distorted as it was over the distance. He was in an entirely different corner of the galaxy, after all. “Why? What’s wrong?”

A pause, then, “The flowers, they’re… uh, they’re kinda…”

“They are very powerful aphrodisiacs!” Ah, Kraglin, just as worried-sounding as Rocket. “They can be harmful to humans!”

Your other hand had joined the first on your face, but it didn’t seem to be doing a lot. You’d managed to get the zipper on your suit down, the neck pulled down to expose your shoulders and collar bones, the skin there just as flushed as your face.

“What?”

Rocket groaned, but Kraglin either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Aphrodisiacs,” he repeated. “If she breathes the pollen her body temperature will rise until she develops a fever, and if she doesn’t have sex she could die.”

His entire (relatively short) life, Adam’s mother – and pretty much everyone else – had been more than generous in pointing out that he was lacking, that he was slower than he should be, that he was not up to the same speed as they were. It was because he’d left the cocoon early, he knew that, but he’d never really felt that much slower. Maybe a little, but he’d always understood where he’d gone wrong and why. This was totally different. For the first time, Adam felt like he was lagging behind.

“What?” he asked again. “What do you mean if she doesn’t have sex she’ll die?”

“Makes ya horny, genius. Means what exactly that. Fuck or die.” Rocket took over, clearing his throat. “I’m reading off the notes, bit further down. It’s small, so you might have missed it. It says it works normal for most species, but humans are more fragile so…”

Yes, that made sense. Adam couldn’t remember that in what he’d read, but he’d also been distracted by your legs slung across his and the little wrinkle that had appeared between your brows as you’d carefully packed your bag, sliding everything perfectly into place. He’d wanted to just reach across and run his thumb over the line, smooth it away forever.

Now, that same bag thudded as it hit the ground and you frantically fanned yourself, eyes closed. There was no telling if you’d heard the conversation, but Adam didn’t want to waste time finding out.

“Ok, I’ll, uh, get her back to the ship.”

“She ok?”

He paused for a moment, then settled on, “yeah, she’ll be fine.”

“You got this, golden boy.” The radio crackled and fell silent, and that was that. What a great help.

“(Y/N)?” he ventured, picking up your pack. “Did you get all that?”

You nodded, wriggling to get the zipper further undone. Your back was beaded with sweat, and in any other circumstance, maybe Adam would have let himself dwell more on the soft contours of your spine, the roll of your shoulder blades, the harsh line of your bra strap in contrast to your smooth skin.

“I’m really… It’s so hot, holy shit. Why’s it gotta be so hot?”

“I think that’s the fever bit. Come on, we should get back.”

You drew a sharp breath when his hand met your back, your whole body tensing.

Adam withdrew at light speed. “Sorry, I didn’t–”

“No,” you cut him off, “no, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Ok.”

It couldn’t have been more than half an hour since you’d set out, but it felt like a long time to get back. You were slower, for one, stumbling and muttering apologies whenever you became disorientated – which was often – and wriggling like your clothes were full of insects. Your breath came heavy, your skin becoming more and more flushed as you drew closer to the ship, and you looked so uncomfortable it made something twist inside Adam.

“I heard it,” you panted, stepping clumsily over a root. “What Kraglin said.”

“Oh,” was all Adam could think of.

“You don’t— You shouldn’t— You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Hey, no, it’s ok. You’ll be ok.”

“I’m– fuck, Adam.”

“You’ll be ok, (Y/N). We can sort this out.”

“I don’t wanna force you to do anything–”

How cruel could the Universe be? Adam wondered as he patted your shoulder – then regretted it when you stumbled. You were the first person he’d really wanted anything with, the first person he’d thought about and imagined and, dare he say it, fantasised about, and now you were worried you were going to somehow hurt him or make him do something he didn’t want to. It was sweet, bitterly so, and ironic enough to feel like a punch in the stomach. If anyone should be worried, it should be him. After all, how were you ever going to look at him the same way after this? How was he going to look at himself the same way?

“I’m so…” You broke off as you emerged into the clearing where the ship was parked, a sob – relief or something else, Adam couldn’t tell – torn from you.

Your legs were shaking now, your skin so hot Adam could feel it through the material of your suit. He helped you quickly aboard, avoiding your eyes as you peeled the suit from your shoulders and pushed yourself against the cool wall. The pollen still lay over your hair and clothes, insultingly cheerful and innocent.

He sighed. “We should get rid of that.”

“Huh?”

“The suit. It’s got pollen all over it.”

“Oh, right.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, peeling the material from your body without a second thought. Well. Adam hadn’t expected that. Trying not to watch as you sunk down to the floor, he shoved the offending clothing into the disposal to be dealt with later.

“You should probably take a shower. There’s pollen in your hair and… on you.”

You nodded, legs pressed firmly together, arms spread over the cool surface at your back. “Yeah, sure, I… Can you… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry I—”

“It’s ok, (Y/N), don’t worry.” It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, but seemed to help a little. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need…” You trailed off in a low whimper, your legs shaking now. You didn’t even seem to notice you were in nothing but your underwear. “I…”

Again, that twisting feeling. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with a relieved sigh, your head tipping back.

So Adam went with you, helping you into the tiny decontamination spray shower, trying to avoid touching you as much as possible – not for lack of trying on your part. You seemed to gravitate towards him, pressing your body into his hands wherever they lay, leaning hard against him. Your breath was still laboured, your face still pink, but it seemed less painful now that you had direction and were free of the suit. You’d stopped wriggling, anyway.

You sighed as you sank down to the floor, your fingers vice-like around Adam’s. His free hand found the taps easily, turning on a cool jet and directing it to the pollen in your hair. It flowed down your neck and shoulders, an orange river spiralling into the drain.

“I’m sorry,” you said for what must have been the millionth time, your own free hand pressed between your legs, tension radiating from every line of your body. “I’m so sorry, Adam.”

“Hey, no, don’t be. It’s going to be ok.” He crouched, ignoring the water as he reached across to lay a hand on your forehead. You practically whined at the contact, your fingers tangling even harder with his, skin hot despite the cold water.

“(Y/N)?” he said softly.

“Hm?

“Rocket, uh… Rocket said the pollen’s an aphrodisiac.”

“Yeah, I – fuck – I know. Trust me.”

“He said it works, um, strongly on humans.” Adam paused, heart pounding. Why did it have to be you, of all people? And why him? “If you don’t,” he continued, “you know… The fever might get high enough to kill you.”

“Oh fuck, come on!” Water sprayed where your foot slapped the shower floor, your voice echoing.

Adam had never felt worse about anything. “I’m sorry, I should have checked the notes first, I didn’t even consider–”

You didn’t seem to care. “So now I’m gonna overheat and die?”

“Unless you have sex. With someone.”

Your head thudded on the wall, a sob flopping wetly from your throat. “Fuck this. Does it have to be with someone? Will it work if I just… do it myself?”

“Uh, actually, I don’t know. Maybe.” He paused, unsure, then, “Do you want to try?”

“Yeah, yeah I—” You took a shuddering breath, blinking through the water dripping over your face. “Yeah.”

Adam nodded, standing. “I’ll… I’ll be around. If you need anything.”

“Thanks.” It was barely a whisper, so wretched it made his heart hurt. You released his hand, and he turned quickly to leave you alone, your relieved moan following him out the door. Adam didn’t like this, not at all. You weren’t quiet, though he supposed that wasn’t your fault, and he hated, really hated the heat your moans and gasped curses sparked in him. It was wrong, so wrong, and he should not be here. But he couldn’t leave you.

“Fuck, fuck oh my God–” you cried eventually, a wet thud echoing through the wall. “Oh my– fuck fucking fuck!”

Adam listened carefully, unsure whether or not he should…

“Adam?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t…” You broke off in a sob, genuine fear lacing your voice. “Fuck.”

“(Y/N)?” He stepped back into the shower, pausing only for a moment to take in the mess that was you. Your hand was still between your legs, thighs spread wide, panties crumpled in a wet bundle in the corner and your bra pulled halfway down your torso. In any other situation, it would have been the hottest thing Adam had ever seen.

“I can’t… It didn’t work, I’m still so hot, why am I so goddamn hot?”

Adam cursed as he crouched beside you, taking your free hand only a little gingerly. He cursed fate and circumstance, himself for not reading the notes properly, Rocket and Kraglin for not miraculously having a cure, and you for still looking so fucking beautiful while you were quite literally dying. He swore that if – when – he and you got out of this, he was going to burn that whole jungle.

“We’ll fix this,” he assured you, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You sighed at the contact, shifting closer.

He frowned. “Is that…?”

“Feels better when you touch me,” you murmured.

That was going to haunt his dreams, he just knew it. This whole ordeal was going to haunt him, and probably not in the way it should have. He already knew he’d be seeing your shoulders silky with the water, your back slicked with sweat and the smooth curve of your thigh for months, let alone everything else. Wrong wrong wrong wrong, he reminded himself.

“Do you…” He stopped. It was absurd. It was wrong. It was not something he’d ever live down.

Your eyes were open, overly bright and dark with want, searching his face like he held all the answers. You were still so flushed, hair plastered to your forehead and dark with the water, lips parted and so, so pink.

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes.” The syllable was torn from you, ragged and desperate, followed quickly by another sob. You shook your head. “I don’t want to pressure you, don’t wanna make you do something you don’t want to.”

He could have laughed. How were you still so focussed on that of all things? It brought that syrupy feeling back, only now it was darker, hotter, and tinged with guilt.

“It’s ok,” he said softly. “(Y/N), it’s ok. Don’t worry.” He carefully moved his hand to your face, pushing the wet hair off your forehead.

You leaned into it as you had before, your eyes closed. “Then yeah, I… Fuck, Adam, I want you so bad. You have no idea how much I want you.”

It wasn’t you. Not really. He did his best to ignore the spread of the tingling warmth, his own want, as he helped you to your feet and did his best to dry you – again, as gently as he could. You just let him, casting your bra away when he paused at it, still struggling to stand and trying your best to get as close to him as you could.

Vaguely, Adam wondered how the hell this would actually work. He hadn’t had a lot of experience with much of anything before he met you and the other Guardians, let alone sex, and he had no idea if you had either. He somehow doubted you were in the same position as he was – you were gorgeous, after all, and so friendly it was a wonder he hadn’t ended up head over heels for you sooner.

He really wished this wasn’t happening. He wished you really did want him, that he’d worked up the guts to ask Quill about Gamora and how that had gone before he’d taken off, then told you about his feelings properly. If he’d gotten that far, he was sure you’d have shown him how it went with the same patience and care you’d shown him everything, and he’d have liked to have taken his time. He’d have liked to kiss you, touch your pretty hands and hold you close, feel you all over and let you take the lead, tell you about the things he thought about you and everything you did to him.

But it was happening, and you were probably not going to want to talk to him after it had run its course. At least you’d be alive.

You’d stumbled to a bed – one of the standard fold-out ones – beside him, and now he sat you down on its edge. You hadn’t released your hold, pulling him down with you, hands flying straight to the fastening of his own damn suit.

“Is this ok?” you breathed, practically vibrating with anticipation. Your hands were flitting everywhere; his hair, his neck, along his jaw, his face, his own hands. You were very clearly trying very hard to make yourself slow down, wait, and Adam’s heart melted.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s all ok. You do what you need to.”

A sigh of relief, a soft “thank you,” and then you were clambering into his lap and peeling his clothes off like it was nothing, your lips hot and hard against his. Adam hadn’t kissed anyone before, but he’d seen enough movies – most of them with you – to know that this wasn’t how it usually went. There was little technique or rhythm, more your tongue licking into his mouth, teeth occasionally knocking against his, so forceful he wondered if it was hurting you.

You’d completely stripped him remarkably fast, and now your hands explored his shoulders and arms, trailing goosebumps down his chest and stomach. You fit perfectly over him, and he allowed himself to run his own hands up your back, down again, over your hips, finally settling in the curve of your waist. How often had he wondered what it would be like to hold you there?

You moaned, the heat at your centre slick and wet against his own rapidly hardening dick. And now you were moving, too, grinding against him like your life depended on it and why had nobody told Adam it could feel like this?

You’d broken the kiss, your lips swollen and even redder than they’d been before, your hands now in his hair, fingers tugging ever so gently. Adam had to stifle his own little sound of pleasure, bending his head to kiss at your neck and those collar bones he could look at forever. You gasped a “yes” when his tongue darted out to taste the skin, the faint tang of sweat mingling with the sweetness of the water that had dripped there from your still-damp hair.

Your fingers tightened in his own hair, the delicious pull sending more heat straight down. You directed his head in that direction, too, arching your back until his mouth found the soft mound of your breast and he licked, then on a whim, sucked.

“Oh, yes, Adam–” you panted, your movements becoming even more frantic.

“Hm?”

“Oh, that’s– that’s so good.”

Did you know what you were doing to him? Adam supposed you didn’t, sucking again at a different spot, licking it, placing a kiss there, moving on. Rinse and repeat.

Then your hands disappeared from his hair – that was a shame, but this wasn’t about him – and the next moment your fingers were wrapped around his cock and you were stroking it better than he ever had, your palm a million times softer than his, sliding easily with your own slick.

“Can I?” you were asking. “Please, Adam, can I?”

You could do whatever you wanted, Adam didn’t care. If he’d thought about it, he’d have realised that he actually liked the idea of you having your way with him, using him for your own pleasure, taking what you needed from him. But he didn’t think about it, he was too caught up in the smell and taste of your skin, the little sounds you were making, the wonderful movement of your hand.

“Yes,” he breathed, “yes, go ahead, (Y/N). Please, just– just go ahead.”

You were moving, rising on those wonderful thighs and your hand was moving too, something hot and slick rubbing over the head of his dick and then holy shit Adam’s mind went blank. If he’d thought you felt hot before, it was nothing compared to this. He groaned in unison with you as you sank down, taking him fully and gripping his shoulders, your breath fanning his face. You fit perfectly around him, squeezing spongy and smooth, and nothing could have prepared him for it.

You braced yourself on his shoulders, rising off him – for a second he wondered if that was it, if you were pulling away – before you sank back down. You did it again, then again, and again and again until the only sounds in the room were your breaths mingling with his, your unrestrained little moans and his own half-stifled ones, the slap of your skin on his.

Adam held you close, hands still anchored to your waist, transfixed by the silken heat of you and the brush of your chest against his, the bounce of your breasts and solidity of your body on top of his.

“Feels so fucking good,” you panted. “No idea, so fucking – shit – good–”

“(Y/N),” he choked, unable to form a single coherent thought.

“You’re so good, Adam oh my God.”

Something was building in his stomach, he could feel it. The warm syrupiness was gone, something hotter and harder and so tight coiling in its place, growing with each moan and sigh and whispered curse from you. It was so much, almost too much, and half of his brain wanted you to stop right there. But the other half, the half that created those late-night daydreams, real dreams, half-formed ideas and scenes in his mind… That half wanted you to go harder, slam your hips down faster and say it again, tell him he felt good, he was doing well.

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you murmured, as if you’d read his mind. “You’re so… ah, fuck, Adam, I’m so close–”

Close to what? he wondered vaguely, but the praise was spinning that coil faster, faster, tighter and faster until–

“Adam, oh, Adam—!”

It snapped, electric and white hot and rolling up his spine like a damn shockwave. He could hear you crying his name, your movements slowing and your body spasming around his. He’d cum before, of course he had, but never like this. That had been small and so quick he hadn’t even realised what was happening until he was spilling into his hand or the bedsheets, confined to his dick, never spreading through his whole body and never with that glorious buildup. This was something else entirely.

After what felt like an age, Adam’s mind returned to his body. You were shaking, collapsed against his chest, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around your waist, your face pressed into his hair, his own nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder. You fit so perfectly against him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice husky even to his own ears.

You didn’t lift your head, but he felt you nod.

“Are you sure? You’re shaking.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m fine. I feel better, actually. How about you?”

Adam just nodded, unwilling to move. He could feel himself softening inside you, but didn’t want to lose the warmth and the feeling that he was yours, that he was fully with you. But… “Do you want me to stay?”

No response, then a deep sigh. “Yes,” you whispered.

Adam ignored the butterflies and the spark of hope that conjured, opting instead for practicality. He could feel the rapidly cooling sweat on his own back, the coldness of your damp hair, the mess of spend around the place where your body swallowed his.

“I’m going to clean you up,” he said softly, “then I’ll come back. Alright?”

“Ok.”

Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted you off himself and set you down further back on the bed. You whined at the loss of contact, curling in on yourself and shivering. But you weren’t so hot anymore, the flush had been replaced by what he could only describe as a glow and the overly bright look had vanished from your eyes. You really did look better.

After a moment’s hesitation, Adam rose and turned away, making for the cabinet where the medpacks and other supplies were kept. You wanted him to stay. You’d told him he felt good. You’d held him afterwards, let him hold you, and had made no move to make him leave. If anything, you’d looked disappointed when he’d broken the contact. But still, you weren’t yourself.

He paused, a horrible thought crossing his mind. Was he going to end up like Quill? Hopelessly chasing a woman who didn’t feel the same way about him? He hoped not, he’d seen how miserable the man was. But you weren’t hard the way Gamora was -- as much as Adam knew her, anyway, which wasn't much. You were soft and open, and you did care about him, he was sure of it. At least you had.

Shaking his head, Adam returned to the room with a damp cloth in hand.

“(Y/N)?” he asked softly, pausing at the door. No answer.

You were where he’d left you, he saw as he stepped around it, still curled up on your side. Your eyes were closed, the rise and fall of your ribs deep and even. Asleep. The surge of tenderness surprised him, strong enough that he was sure he’d been swamped by an actual wave. You really were beautiful, even damp and naked, lips swollen and hair mussed.

He was careful not to wake you as he brushed the hair off your face, wiped away the worst of the mess, and then pulled a blanket over you. He wondered briefly if he should stay with you, slide down beside you and wrap his arms around your waist, warm you with his body heat and be there to tell you it was all alright when you woke up.

You shifted, heaving a deep breath and adjusting your position minutely, and that decided it. Adam couldn’t disturb you, as much as he wanted to, and there was still your suit and discarded underwear, not to mention the original task. On an impulse, he bent and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning, scooping his own clothes off the floor and making for the shower.

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock smut #adam warlock x you #gotg3 #mcu #fanfiction #fanfic #shameless smut #smut #marvel #gotg vol 3

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headkiss · 2 years

Text

are we more?

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: using the prompts “‘don’t go on that date’ ‘why’ ‘you know why’ ‘tell me’” “i think i’m in love with you and i’m terrified” for the longest time you thought steve was an asshole, but one date changes that.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: a terrible date (he gets really touchy but nothing happens), and fluff!!

a/n: sorry this one took me so long, but it’s finally here!!! i’m not the happiest w it but it’s taken forever and i hope u guys enjoy it <33

༄

Working at Family Video wasn’t all that bad. It certainly got better when Robin and—though you’d never tell anyone—Steve joined the staff.

Keith was quite the character, but as a manager, he was mostly chill. He didn’t really care what went on in the store as long as it was still running. But, when you were working there with only him, it got boring, and sometimes weird. Having more people your age there really was great, even if you weren’t one of their biggest fans.

It’s not that you disliked Steve, per say, it’s just that he got on your nerves in such a unique way and you couldn’t stand it. He was an absolute asshole in school, too, which didn’t help his case. You put up with him the best you could, because you enjoyed Robin’s company so much.

She quickly became a really close friend to you, brightening your days when you shared a shift. It was just unfortunate that Steve Harrington came along with that.

You couldn’t deny the boy was pretty, the prettiest ever, probably, but that didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. He was a dork, a huge flirt, and he teased you relentlessly. You gave it right back, and still, he never gave up.

You sighed when he walked into the store for his shift.

“Hey, babe! How’s it goin’ today?”

“Great until you got here, Harrington.”

“Ouch! You wound me, princess.”

“Would you stop calling me that?”

“No! It gets you all flustered and mad.”

God, he was so aggravating.

Steve loved to bother you, loved to have your attention on him even if it wasn’t positive. He didn’t know exactly why you hated him, and he wanted to change it so badly, but he didn’t know how. You were a stubborn person, and no matter what he tried, you still rolled your eyes at the sight of him. So, instead of pouting about it, he forced his way under your skin.

From his place leaning on the counter, he observed you as you restocked shelves. He liked watching the stretch of your arm when you had to put something on the top shelf, the way your hair fell around your face when you bent to a lower shelf. He liked you, really. Robin would tease him for it constantly; having a crush on someone who couldn’t stand him was very Steve of him.

When you finished unloading the box, you walked over to where Steve stood behind the counter. You perched yourself on the small stool near the computer, sighing in boredom and drawing Steve’s attention over to you once more. He didn’t say anything, only eyed you softly, and you took notice.

“What are you looking at?”

“You. Duh.”

“Can you not.”

He’s about to reply, to egg you on, when the bell above the door rings signaling the entrance of a customer. She’s young, about your age, and Steve walks around the counter, saying a quick, ‘duty calls!’

You roll your eyes because you know he’s just going to flirt with her, that he’s just going to get himself another date that won’t work out. You ignore the small punch in your gut at the thought, the irritation you feel at the image of him bringing her flowers and driving her around in his BMW. You hate that image.

He doesn’t notice when the bell rings once again, too busy with his conversation. You notice, though, because the person walking in is Ryan. He was in school with you and Steve, and lately, he’s been trying to get you to agree to go out with him.

“Hey, y/n.”

“Ryan, how can I help you?”

“Well I’m not looking to rent a movie. I’m looking for a date to go see a movie.”

“Are you ever gonna quit?”

“Nope. What do you say? Tonight?”

You spare a glance back at Steve and the customer he has giggling, she’s pretty, you think. There’s that pinch in your gut again and you decide, yes, this time you will agree to go on a date.

“Okay. Fine.”

“Cool. See ya.”

Then, he was walking out.

You felt weird about saying yes, no excitement, no giddiness. But, when you saw Steve ushering the customer out with a hand on her back, you felt better about it.

By the time Family Video was closed and you and Steve were finishing up, you were eager to get out of there, to leave and get your date over with. He noticed your picked up pace, the way you moved quicker than usual.

“What’s with the fire under your ass, princess? Wanna get away from me that badly?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I have a date to go get ready for.”

You don’t know why you told him. It could be because you had to tell someone, or because you wanted him to hear about your plans for once. He’s always mentioning his dates, rubbing it in your face, even. So, it’s quite possible you wanted to get his reaction for once, a taste of his own medicine.

“Really? With who?”

He didn’t mean to sound so shocked, but he hadn’t seen you entertain any flirtatious advances, let alone agree to going out with someone. He was surprised, and, yeah, he was jealous. He wanted to take you out, to pick you up with flowers and compliment you right away. But, he knew better than to hope for that.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’d go out with someone?”

“No! No, I’m just taking it in. Who is it?”

“Ryan.”

“Absolutely not. He’s an asshole, seriously.”

“So were you.”

Were. Like you were finally admitting to having seen the change in him since school. For as much shit as you gave him about ‘King Steve,’ you weren’t blind, you knew he was different. But, that didn’t erase his actions. Not for you.

“I know that. But he still is!”

“Whatever, Steve. I’m gonna go now.”

The date was going horribly.

Ryan took you to the movies, which wasn’t bad, but his car was messy and he drove a little too recklessly for your taste. You were tense the whole drive, hands gripping the sides of your seat, deep breaths puffing out of your mouth.

Then, he made you pay for the tickets, even though he’s the one who asked you out because ‘you’re a working lady!’ and stuff like that. The last thing you wanted was for Steve to be right, but he was.

Ryan was still an asshole.

You were kind of grateful he’d chosen the movies, because it meant less talking and getting to eat popcorn. You could put up with that and pretend it went just great when Steve inevitably asked you about it tomorrow. No worries.

As you walked up the steps to your seats, Ryan behind you, no doubt looking at your ass, you were trying to force yourself to have a good time. To really try to have fun even if it wasn’t an ideal situation. Ryan couldn’t be that bad, you could handle him.

You didn’t see it when your date high fived a random guy in the theatre for being there with you.

As the movie went on, Ryan kept trying to hold your hand, to put his arm around you. You weren’t a fan and he clearly wasn’t taking the hint. At some point, you thought he’d finally given up, that he’d just leave it alone.

Unfortunately, you were wrong.

One second, you were just eating popcorn with an annoying date next to you, the next, he was putting his hand on your thigh. You tried shaking your leg to get him to take it off, and it didn’t work. You were getting uncomfortable, so you stood up quickly and muttered a quick excuse that you were going to the bathroom.

He waved you off.

Your heart was beating quickly as you made your way out of the screening room. You needed a way out of this date and you needed it now. You paced in the hallway of the theatre, deserted and warmly lit. Before you could even think about a plan, Ryan was there, grabbing your wrist too tightly.

“Got lost on the way to the bathroom there?”

“No. I actually have to go.”

His grip tightened on you when you tried to walk away, fingertips pushing into the delicate skin of your wrist, bruising and painful.

“You sure about that?”

“Ryan, let go. That hurts.”

“You’ve been teasing me all night. Wearing a fucking skirt and you want to leave?”

“What?”

He threw your wrist out of his grasp, and you massaged the area he’d been holding with your other hand. You knew he was an asshole but you never expected it to be this bad. Your hands were shaking and your breaths weren’t steady. You needed to leave.

“Fucking bitch. You can walk home.”

He stormed off after that, getting in his car and driving off. You watched him go through the glass doors of the theatre. At first, you were one hundred percent happy he was gone, then you remembered you didn’t have a way home anymore and the walk would take you eternity.

The only number that came to your mind was Steve’s, which was odd considering you never used it before. You only knew what it was because of work, having to know all of your coworkers contact information was annoying, but you supposed it worked out for you in the end.

You found the nearest pay phone, shaky hands inserting a coin and dialing Steve’s number. Sighing as you heard the dial tone, cursing yourself for calling him when the phone started ringing. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that he wasn’t home, but you didn't need to because he picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Steve?”

He was shocked to be hearing your voice on the other side of the phone. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him why you would be calling him. Didn’t you hate him? Or was he wrong about that? His mind was reeling all because of a phone call from you. Maybe he felt something for you that was stronger than like.

He was snapped out of it when you said his name again, quiet and barely there, but he heard it.

“Yeah. Hi. It’s me. Why are you calling? You never call.”

“I know… I just, um, I didn’t know who else to call. I need a ride. Please?”

He noticed the way your voice cracked, the way you had to pause between words like you were trying not to cry. He racked his brain trying to remember where he put his keys.

“Are you okay, princess?”

“Guess you were right. Ryan’s still an asshole. Can you come get me?”

He was standing before you even finished the question. He’d do anything for you.

“Where are you?”

You told him, and he hung up with a promise of being there soon.

You all but ran to Steve’s BMW when he arrived, eager to escape the nightmare that was this night. You were so relieved to see him for once and your mind was too frazzled to think about that.

He unlocked the doors for you as soon as he saw you stand from your seat on the curb. He went as far as leaning over the console to open the passenger door for you, giving you the quickest way into his car.

Your mood was evident as soon as you took your spot in the passenger seat. Your leg immediately bouncing up and down, hands fidgeting with the hem of your clothes. Being calm was not happening for you, still on edge from being grabbed and talked down to the way you were.

“Want me to take you home?”

Steve spoke in an almost-whisper. It was like he didn’t want to scare you, to cause you any amount of distress. He could tell that you were anxious, uncomfortable about what happened. He wanted to take it away so badly.

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve.”

Your voice was small, shaky. Your eyes seemed to be permanently teary and the last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Steve. Over a date.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He spared a quick glance over at you as he drove. He noticed the way your bottom lip was wobbling, the way your eyes were squeezed shut so you wouldn’t cry. The car was pulling over before he even realized. The boy just wanted to comfort you, and he couldn’t do that if he was focused on driving.

“Hey, princess. It’s okay. You’re okay. Talk to me.”

“You probably think I’m so stupid.”

The tears were falling now, and you couldn’t stop them. You just felt like an idiot, like you deserved everything Ryan said to you. You felt gross and dirty and all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball on your bed and sob.

“Look at me. I do not think you’re stupid. What happened, sweetheart?”

“He, um, he kept trying to put his hands on me and stuff and-”

“Did he hurt you? Oh my god.”

“Steve. No, nothing happened. He just grabbed my wrist kinda tight and said some stuff and it was humiliating.”

“Your wrist? Can I see?”

You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand before holding it out to Steve, letting him hold your forearm in his gentle grasp.

“Shit. He left bruises.”

“I’m fine.”

He shook his head, a small frown on his face at the image of fucking Ryan hurting you. Steve brought your wrist up to his mouth, kissing your marked skin so lightly you almost missed it.

“You don’t deserve anything he did or said to you, okay? None of it. You’re a great girl.”

He was so soft with you at this moment, so caring and it was like your whole view on him just shifted. All this time you thought he was this egotistical ass, you were too distracted by the banter between the two of you to see how good he was. Maybe the irritation was something else, buried under the false pretence of dislike when in reality he made you smile. He made you think about him constantly.

You get jealous when he gets dates, for fucks sake.

“I’m sorry I’m so mean to you, Steve.”

You felt awful because of it. He deserved more than what you were, better than how you treated him. All this time this pretty, sweet boy was right in front of you and you couldn’t stop teasing him long enough to see that.

You were crying more now, the tears a constant stream down your face leaving small tracks in your makeup.

“Hey. Shhh. No, stop that. It’s okay, listen to me,” he was holding your face in his hands, thumbs swiping at the wetness on your cheeks. He forced you to look at him with his hold on your face, your sad eyes blinking up at him.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop, sweet girl. You’re not mean to me, okay? It’s okay. Do you want me to take you home now?”

He was so shocked at the apology you gave him, the genuine sadness he could see all over your features at the idea of hurting him even after the awful night you had.

“Okay.”

“Okay, I’ll drive you home. Please stop crying.”

“I’m sorry. Thank you for getting me.”

“You call me anytime you need to. I’m there.”

As he drove the rest of the way home, your small sniffles breaking the silence in the car, he couldn’t help but think about what you said. The fact that you were taken on this awful date and that wasn’t even what you were the most upset about was killing him. He wanted to hold you and never let go.

He loved you. He knew that now. And you called him when you needed someone.

You called him. Not Robin, not anyone else. Him. That had to mean something.

You and Steve were both working the next day, which was going to be awkward.

You cried in front of him. He wiped your tears away and cared for you while you were hurting even after everything.

You did a lot of reflecting last night, after showering off the disgusting feeling of Ryan lingering on you. You realized that all this time, you didn’t actually harbour negative feelings towards Steve, only to the person you once knew him to be.

As soon as you opened your eyes to who he is now, to how you felt when he was around, you realized you liked him. A lot. Maybe more than liked, even, and it was scary.

The decision you made to show up way too early for work paid off because Robin was there, and she’s exactly who you needed to talk to. She was confused to see you an hour before yours and Steve’s shift started, but she welcomed you all the same.

“Hey! Why are you here so early?”

“I really need to talk to you and you can’t say anything until I’m done, okay?”

“Okay, shutting up now!”

“So last night I went on the worst date ever, it was awful and I freaked out and called Steve to come get me because Ryan left me there-”

“Why would you go out with Ryan?”

“Robin!”

“Sorry! I’m actually shutting up this time.”

“So Steve took me home and I cried in front of him in the car. He literally had to pull over and he wiped my tears and stuff. I’m just so confused because I thought I didn’t like him but I was so wrong. So, so wrong. I really like him, I think I love him and I’m freaking out.”

She just stared at you blankly, absorbing everything you just said and making sure you were done talking before she responded. When you simply nodded at her to let her know she could reply, you were surprised with all she had to say.

“Finally!”

“What?”

“You two have had feelings for each other for so long it’s been driving me insane! I mean, seriously, all the teasing and glances. You’re so oblivious to it all, seriously.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Tell you how you feel? Come on! Steve’s liked you forever, too. Can't you just suck it up and tell him?”

“No! I’ve been so mean to him and why would he want that around him? He’ll never believe me or want to be with me.”

“God, you two are so annoying.”

“Robin!”

You couldn’t believe the idea that Steve liked you a fraction of how much you recently discovered you liked him. After everything you’ve said, everything you put him through, how could he?

You and Robin changed the subject after that, deciding that it was better for you to just think about what was said and what you wanted to do from there. The rest of the time before your shift flew by, and before you knew it, Steve was walking through the door to get to work.

Mostly to see you, though.

Steve’s mind was reeling ever since last night. Thoughts about you, wondering if you were okay, analyzing everything that was said. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you cried, how you let him hold you and how you apologized to him even though he didn’t need it. He was already in love with you, sorry or not.

He decided he would tell you how he felt sometime soon. The time was wasting and after everything he’d been through he couldn’t imagine letting it keep ticking by without trying.

As soon as you heard the bell above the door ring signaling Steve’s entrance, you looked over. His eyes locked onto yours and the seconds seemed to slow then. The world pausing for the two of you.

Robin noticed the moment. She just rolled her eyes and excused herself saying, “that’s my cue!”

You both snapped out of it when she called out a ‘bye lovebirds!’ before walking out of the store, leaving you alone with Steve. He walked behind the counter, leaning on it beside you.

“Hi, princess. How you doing?”

“Steve, I’m okay. Thank you, again. I’m really sorry I made you come get me… and that I cried. That was really embarrassing.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m here for you, I mean it.”

“But, I’ve been rude to you.. judged you because of high school. I just feel awful. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

He hated how sad you looked over his feelings. You were the one who had an awful, scary night. Not him. The boy wanted you to be okay, to forgive yourself because he forgave you the second your gaze softened towards him.

“Stop it. You deserve everything good. Everything. I’m gonna go put these returns back, okay? Stop beating yourself up. We’re okay.”

He touched your arm softly as he passed, the small brush of his hand sending waves through you. Mind, body, and soul. He affected you and you wanted him. You loved him.

You never thought you would be one to call for Steve Harrington, but here you were. You had probably been falling for months now, never even knowing it. This was crazy.

To make everything even crazier, the next time the bell above the door rang, it was none other than Ryan. Your nightmare date. Absolute asshole. You were not ready to deal with him.

“y/n. Hey.”

“Go away Ryan.”

Steve was in the back now, organizing movies and trying to give you space. He didn’t hear the bell jingle and he didn’t know who was out there. If he did, he’d have some choice words and maybe even a punch to give.

“Come on. Let me make it up to you.”

“No. Please leave.”

Your eyes were searching around the store for Steve, for an escape from this guy and this conversation. You couldn’t see him, though. All you could do was hope that he would come back soon, that some kind of intuition would lead him to find you.

“Babe, seriously. One date and I’ll prove to you last night was a fluke.”

“Don’t call me ‘babe’ and stop asking me out. No.”

“Such a bitch.”

Steve chose that moment to walk out of the back room, brows furrowing at the sight of fucking Ryan talking to you. He could tell you weren’t having it, that you weren’t comfortable with it. Your hands were fidgeting, shaking.

“I think she told you to leave.”

“Steve Harrington! A hero!”

“Get the fuck out, Ryan. Seriously.”

Steve was talking slowly, menacingly. His voice a demand that you’d never heard come from him before. He was always soft, light, and right now he was anything but.

“Jesus, Steve, you really fell off since school.”

“No, I’m better now, thanks. You can leave now.”

You stood watching the two of them, not able to utter a word. You were nervous to see what would happen, hoping that Ryan would just leave and no punches would be thrown. As much as he deserved one.

“Whatever,” Ryan turned to you then, eyes scanning you up and down in anger, disgust. “You’re lucky King Steve was here to save you. You’re a fucking bore anyways. Bye.”

You let out a breath after he left, one of relief and shock. What the fuck. Steve defended you. Ryan came back and was just as horrible as you remembered. Why was this all happening to you? There was so much confusion and self-doubt running through your head.

“Hey, sweet girl. What happened before I showed up?”

“He tried to get me to go out with him again. Redemption or something.”

“Fuck that. Don’t go on that date.”

The atmosphere seemed to shift. You were standing really close together. When did that happen? Steve was holding both of your hands in his, stopping your nervous fiddling and soothing you. He looked all over your face, eyes scanning and sweet and captivating as ever.

“Steve…”

“Don’t go.”

“I wasn’t going to. But why? What’s it to you.”

“You know why. Don’t make me say it. Please.”

Was this really happening? Were things about to be confessed in the dingy space that was Family Video? You really hoped it was. That you weren’t dreaming some kind of crazy realistic dream. Because Steve was the most real you’d ever seen him now.

His eyes pleading with you, trying to find any sign that you would relent, let him save his words to himself. It was too early. He still didn’t know if you felt the same, and no matter what he convinced himself earlier, he was scared. So scared to admit his emotions.

You let go of one of his hands to push his hair off of his forehead, “tell me.”

“Fuck. I can’t.”

“Steve. Tell me.”

Your hand grasped his face, coaxing him to keep his eyes on yours. To see how serious you were. You wanted to hear this and you wanted to say it back. All this considering he was going to say what you thought he was.

“I’m in love with you and I'm terrified. I’m so scared because for a long time I was convinced you could never feel the same and then last night you called me. You called me, and all I wanted to do was hold you and kiss you and make sure you were okay and I still do. I still do and I’m scared. I don’t deserve you, I don’t think I ever could-”

You cut him off by kissing him, too overwhelmed with everything he said to say anything back before pulling him into you. Steve reciprocated right away, his free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you as close as possible.

He was dreaming. He had to be. His dream girl, kissing him. You were perfect, and he was kissing you.

You pulled away after a bit, needing to say it back.

“I love you, Steve. I’m so sorry for how long I’ve been blind, I haven’t been fair to you and I want to fix it. But I love you, and I want you to let me prove that to you.”

“Maybe you can just kiss me again? Think that’ll work.”

You did, impossibly grateful that it was a quiet day in Family Video. You supposed you should be grateful for this job. It ultimately brought you and Steve together.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington requests #steve harrington one shot

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girlwithamissingpearl · 7 months

Text

I understand things have been dry in Outlander land but even desert dry has me smh. Ladies, if you have to try that hard to shit all over SH, I’m not saying it makes you a hater but it sure as shit doesn’t make you a liker.

Back after a bit- admit it, we all need to occasionally take a break- I feel I needed to pace myself during the drought. But after a bit of scrolling, I felt compelled to dive right in. Isn’t this fandom about fun, entertainment and guilty pleasure? That’s why I’m here. So why the endless posts from the SH haters? Do people dislike SH, enjoy the snark or just think the man is stupid?

So just for fun (or insomnia) I thought I would play a short game of SH: Stupid, Smart or just SMH?

1. SH and Cons/Private events for $

Why do people have such a problem with SH trying to make a living? Most if not all actors part of a series or movie franchise participate. In my opinion SH is doing it now, so he won’t need to in his 60’s to pay the rent. While most fans are priced out of the more exclusive events, all I can say is the paying fans are the only ones that never complain. Supply and demand. If any charitable component is part of the deal, great. So can we finally put a line under this?

Verdict: Smart as hell

2. SH always “Shilling” SS to his Fans and on SM

Uhm, he is the brand. It’s his company. Can it be a bit much? Yes. Promotion to the fan base and the use of sm is marketing 101. In order for people to try the product they need to know about the product. We can disagree as to his methods or success to date, but fans are not the only ones buying bottles. As for the constant and consistent presence of AN with SH during events? Suddenly they are a couple? WTF. AN is a business partner. He owns part of the business. They both work hard promoting SS, and so far it looks like they will continue to release more SS. Ladies, don’t put your lawn chairs away yet!😉

Verdict: Smart

3. SH and boundaries with his fans

Regardless of the letter you attach to SH, he is a recognized actor around the world. Definitely a people pleaser, in imho, he will happily take a selfie with anyone. Obviously, he never wants to disappoint any fan, but his lack of boundaries and security at events can be cringe worthy at times. If a female actor was touched, mauled, or asked to sign fans boobs or t-shirts it would be a #me too moment. Someone, anyone in security or a handler needs to be bad cop if he won’t. How far is too far?

Verdict: Stupid with a side of SMH

4. SH as a Philanthropist and Charitable Causes

This one really bugs me. MPC has raised over $6m for charity. SH’s name attached to any cause raises awareness and $. The BS from the haters who discount this based on the fact SH apparently never donates his own money is petty nonsense. Gentleman’s ride is one example. Agree it was his female fans that made it happen. And? This is my only fandom but SH is held to an impossible standard. Apparently he is a hypocrite in his support for clean oceans because someone on his team had a catered lunch using single use plastics. Great topic for discussion, but the man didn’t throw the containers in the ocean. Also let’s not judge a person’s commitment based on sm posts. SH can literally, yes ladies literally never win. Thankfully the causes he supports do. I dare you to disagree.

Verdict: Smart

5A. SH’s dating life

According to an extremely ardent part of this fandom, SH has dated😉 every fit blonde 👱‍♀️ within a 250 mile radius of everywhere. I wish that someone would keep track of all the mysterious initials and lack of any literal proof of these women. This is where I separate the snark from the hater’s. While I’m in owe of the investigative skills of some, and enjoy the gossip-even though mom thought gossip was a sin, sorry mom- not all women aka initials welcome the attention. Any woman save CB that SH is remotely warranted or not attached to, has an avalanche of hate comments and 💩emoji in their future, welcome or not. Personally, I believe SH, goes out of his way to protect the people he cares about, and perhaps even those he may not. I think we can agree he is not a monk. However an actor is entitled to privacy. Ginger Jesus included.

5B. SH ‘s Sexuality

From the beginning, 3 years for me, I’ve read posts about someone who knew a friend of a friend of a bartender’s friend who knew for a fact SH had a boyfriend. WTF. You know the drought is real when this bullshit gets recycled. We all know the question has been asked and answered by SH. More than once. Next.

Verdict: SH keeping his private life private: Smart as hell.

6. SH and the use of all things Outlander related

If you don’t get it, I don’t have the time and am too lazy to explain it to you.

Verdict: Smart. Smart as hell

7. SH and CB

The only real problem here is obvious. And I don’t know why the fans or even the haters- btw, I use the term haters like I do profanity- perhaps not the best word, but like GFY, FU, MF, C, etc. I’m lazy and it saves time and no confusion to whom I address. So where the actual f&ck is the audition tape we all want to see? You know the part of which I speak. If only the fandom investigators could put aside any petty differences and uncover the SH, CB chemistry kiss tape? I’m not saying it will be a unifying and CTJ moment, but it would give SH fans something to make the drought less….thirsty.

No verdict necessary. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨😚😉

And last but definitely not least…

8. SH and Thirst Traps

Ladies, because of Outlander and all things Outlander related, we’ve had the pleasure to observe SH from every view and lovely angle. Come on, if you 👀 closely it’s all there. Why the actual f&ck people in this fandom have a problem with his shirtless posts is beyond me. Not only is he promoting the results a good fitness regime can produce, he is literally, yes literally giving his fans something they want. And don’t even try me with- you’re treating him like an object. This is a 100% consensual relationship. And if the word “hater” seems harsh about the same gang that complains and shits all over his shirtless thirst traps, then please find me a better name.

Verdict: Smart as hell and thank you

So for those who may not get it, this post is silly and something for my handful of friends or any SH fan to have a laugh. If anyone has the patience to read the entire thing😉 So any comments are welcome, but to the people or person sending awful and cowardly anon messages: save your time. Or GFY. See what I did there?🤓

#outlander #outlander season 7 #sam cait #sam heughan #sassanach #men in kilts #men in kilts 2 #waypoints #clanlands

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sanccharine · 4 months

Text

blueberry muffins | sn

single parent au, christmas au

pairing: babysitter!sana x single parent!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 7.2k

warning: so sweet it'll rot your teeth ! ew that ryhmed, i'm sorry

summary: when your own life becomes a b-rated hallmark holiday movie (not that you're complaining)

a/n: finally, what was supposed to be last year's christmas fic and the sequel to pizza party! is here !! all thanks to this request !! this was co-written by @eternallyghosting (she wrote three (very important) sentences and the summary, which is easily the hardest part of writing fics) strangely, it was nice writing domestic fluff again and also i gave up on the banner :D also is this happy belated christmas bc this was for last year or is it early bc christmas is in five days ?? anygays, happy holidays !!

The moment the car stopped, a door was being shoved open. You didn’t have to check the rearview mirror to know that your son had sprinted out. Shaking your head, you shifted the gear to park before turning your gaze at your girlfriend.

Minatozaki Sana was a confident woman. Or at least that is what you’ve gathered over the last year. She was never one to hide how she felt; it was she who had made the first move. So to see her eyes glazed over, trained on the raindrops collecting at the edge of the windshield was concerning, to say the least.

“Hey,” was all you uttered, even quiet to your own ears. But Sana was attuned to your voice so she straightened before she turned to meet your gaze.

In the many years that make up a life, a year may be inconsequential. Between those three hundred and sixty-five days many things can happen. You can meet new people, spend time with them and get to really know their likes and dislikes, understand what truly makes and motivates them. During this time, you could gain lifelong friends, whom you instantly sync with only to lose them by the end of the year. Twelve months is enough time to drive you away from your family, to uproot your life and start anew, or perhaps return home to loving arms where everything remains unchanged. A year is a million moments of frustration and tears and happiness, a combination of beginning and endings, and gain and loss. But many years later, those instances would be fleeting at best.

A whole year; a passing moment.

Perhaps that’s why you were pleasantly surprised with how well things were with Sana. Having known each other for almost two years, from kind greetings building up to genuine conversations. The slow build of your relationship, from when you first asked her about her bad day to when she finally asked you out for a coffee date. There was not a moment you regretted, and to think that this was all the result of your son, the last shove the pair of you needed.

Now Sana has moved in, you wake up to her running around your home alongside your son. She’d gone from his babysitter to someone who takes an active role in his life, someone who shapes him to be better. Someone he can learn from, grow with, and rely on, especially when you weren’t there for him.

Simply put, you couldn't be more sure of your decision to be with her. Now, there were only a few more steps.

Without saying a word, you reached for her hand, her fingers interlocking with yours instinctively. “I’m not worried, I just need a moment,” Sana said, the frozen glaze slowly dissipating from her eyes.

Exhaling, you reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Silky soft to the touch, even with her constant dyeing. How she managed to maintain the texture remained a mystery. From her natural brown to blinding orange to auburn to back to her brown, you’ve seen Sana’s hair shift faster than the seasons. Though in the dark of the night, your car was only illuminated by the lamppost a meter away, her hair seemed so depthless it was inky black.

Sana leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as you held her. Just as you were about to assure her, a loud thump on the glass startled you both apart.

“Aren’t you coming?” Your son asked loudly, though it sounded muffled since he had the side of his face and palms pressed flat against the glass. With another slap to the glass, he moved away but not before saying. “Open the trunk, I need to show grandma my chef’s hat and cookbook.”

Sana had gone from clutching her heart to clutching her stomach as she doubled over with laughter. You, on the other hand, had to rest your forehead on the steering wheel to let out a long and exaggerated groan.

“He will be the—”

Your son hit the car twice, yelling. “Trunk, please!”

“Okay, okay, I’m opening it! It’s opening,” you stumbled to find the button. With a huff, you took out your car keys while Sana was still giggling as she got out to help with the suitcase.

Your son had catapulted himself into your father’s arms as you headed up the porch, luggage in hand. Sana followed behind you, not necessarily hiding, but slightly obscuring herself from your parents. Smiling, you extended your free hand to take hers as you reached the door.

“Oh, look who’s home!” your father exclaimed, as he swiftly lifted your son up and placed him on his hip.

“Don’t do that! Who’s going to pay for another surgery?” you said, scowling while your mother slapped at his arm, trying to pry your son away.

“With all that hard work, it will be you, of course,” your father said, before whispering at your son who then burst into giggles after peeking at you.

“Well, if it's all the same, help me out with our bags—”

“Not happening,” your father said before walking into the house.

“Here, let me,” your mother passed right by you and attempted to take the bag Sana was shouldering. Sana tried to decline politely, but your mother wasn’t having it. Soon the bag was in her hands and she took Sana’s hand in hers. Your mother gave you a smile as she guided Sana into the house. “She’s beautiful.”

“I know, Mom,” you groaned, the smile hard to suppress.

Home felt familiar. There was a smell, something you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. Of course, there were notes you recognised. A blend of your mother’s baking and your father’s obnoxious perfumes against the smell of rain. Something you’ve experienced so many times before and have long yearned to return to. As for furniture, nothing seemed to have changed. You spotted a few new frames, photos of your son now competing with numerous photos of yourself. Then one that really stopped you in your tracks.

Your mother, artistic in all of her endeavours, had a growing collage of her favourite photos on a pinboard. You don’t come home often to notice all the small edits she makes, but this one was glaringly obvious. It was a picture that was clearly printed out recently. On normal paper it seemed, it lacked the gloss. It was cut to the shape of the three people in the photo, bordered with orange craft paper and stuck on at the very edge of the board.

It was a picture of you, your son… and Sana.

One night, when Sana decided it was time for her classic bright orange to return, she asked whether you wanted to dye your hair as well.

Of course, in an instant, you answered no. Unfortunately, your son had overheard the question and practically begged you to let him dye his hair. So that night, both you and your son earned a few strands of orange hair that matched Sana.

Almost on instinct, your hand drifted to the spot behind your neck, hiding a few stray strands of fading bright orange hair. When you had sent the image to your mother, you’d laughed at it because your face was barely in it to your mother’s disappointment. In fact, you were showing your back and looking over your shoulder so the orange was peeking through. Sana wore a blinding grin that also matched your son’s, who was pointing at the streak of orange in his fringe. But here it was, printed and cut out and pasted.

The sight invoked a feeling you couldn’t place.

Someone stepped to your right to observe the same picture.

And then Sana turned to look at you, her eyes glassy.

Even if it wasn’t said, you know what this means.

The words were in your mouth when your mother spoke from your left. “I hope you don’t mind me putting up that picture there,” she said with scrunched eyebrows. “I really liked it.”

Sana’s lips twitched upward as she shook her head. “I don’t mind at all.”

Introductions were quite brief, having heard each other quite a bit from you. Besides, you knew once your son tired himself out and was asleep, your parents could really get to know Sana. So, you decided to move your bags up to your scheduled room.

Unfortunately for you, Sana stopped by another door.

Gasping, Sana pushed the door open and took in every corner of your childhood room.

The room was exactly as you left it. Except less messy. No furniture was moved, no posters torn down, no trinkets replaced—it was as if you had never even left.

Sana moved to your study desk, her finger brushing the spines of textbooks that had made your high school years a living hell.

“Did you study a lot?” Sana asked, her voice light as if she were absent-minded.

“Not really, just enough to pass I guess,” Sana sent you a look over her shoulder, head slightly tilted in suspicion before turning her attention back to the desk.

She poked the trophies and participation awards, smiling at your photos crammed to a side before picking one up.

“Someone looks awfully upset here,” she brandished a photo of you standing on a podium, glaring holes at the person in front of you while you gripped your smaller award. “Sore loser much?”

“I deserved first place! You weren’t there, alright?” you rolled your eyes, plucking the photo away from her while she moved towards your bed.

“I can’t imagine you’d ever have such a tidy room,” she chuckled as she took a seat by the foot of the bed, bouncing a little on the comfortable mattress.

“Yeah, well, you have my mother to thank for that,” you smiled, as you leaned on your desk, facing Sana. Watching her.

Perhaps, it was nostalgia. Or exhaustion. Who knows, maybe even the holiday spirit. But you liked staying here, being in your old room, surrounded by things you’ve long forgotten, from a time you don’t particularly miss, but now, with Sana. Someone who promised a new start.

Sana watched you in turn, her lips pressed thin as she suppressed a knowing smile.

Leaning back, she asked. “So, is this where we’ll be sleeping? In your old room?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “Not a chance,” you jutted your chin at the single bed, “you feel like being crammed into that?”

Sana shook her head as she turned around to feel the quilt, lips quirked up at the shark pattern.

“No, we’re taking the guest room,” you said, walking to your door. From here, you could just about see over the stairway railing and into the kitchen. Both your parents buzzed around your son like moths to a flame, grins on all of their faces. With a soft sigh, you said. “The one that will be coddled, pampered, and spoiled for the next week will be sleeping in here.”

Content for the moment, you turned your attention back to Sana but she was already looking at you. An expression akin to worry was on her features.

“They’ll like me right?”

Sana closed in on herself, hands dragging down the quilt to feel it one more time before folding in front of her stomach. Her eyes darted around the room before settling back on you. You hated seeing Sana like this.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” you pushed away from your place at the door and took Sana’s face in your hands, helping her to look up at you. “They’ll love you.”

You leaned down, your nose brushing against hers as a chuckle escaped her.

“Just like you do,” she giggled cheekily.

You kissed her to stop her teasing.

“Hmm, sure,” but still, you admitted. “Just like I do.”

Once your son had tired himself out and you had unpacked your things, you decided it was time to put him to bed. With his blue set of pyjamas that matched your ancient shark-patterned bed sheets, he clambered and got under the sheets, tucking himself in neatly. You took a seat by him on the bed, hand reaching out to comb his unruly hair out of his face.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, a bit slowly.

“Good,” your son admitted, “it’s nice to see grandma and grandpa again.”

The muscle in your jaw tensed.

You wished you could visit home often, a long drive or not, it wasn’t too hard to come back home. However, work dragged you away and you didn’t even have time to consider a plan for the weekend. Even now, your ‘long’ weekend as an excuse for a holiday was extended into a week of freedom after you’d lined up your leave days and practically begged for the holidays. There was no shame in it, the end of this year was important. There were big changes ahead.

“Good,” you parroted.

“Grandma loved my hat and said we can bake some treats from the cookbook,” he exclaimed. You nodded as he continued. “I asked her if we could make a cake—a blue one!—like Percy!”

“Like Percy,” you scoffed as you completed the sentence with him.

“She said she knows a trick so the food doesn’t come out green,” he added and you didn’t doubt him.

Ever since his class was given free rein over the library, your son has been reading quite a lot. On top of his fascination with cooking, of course. This was the longest he’s stuck with a hobby or interest, and reading that his favourite character managed to eat special blue food, catered to him by his loving mother, only spurred your son more to mimic it.

With your help, and Sana’s… mostly Sana’s, your son has mastered green pastries, desserts and sweets. Or ogre food, as you lovingly call it. For reasons that you couldn’t guess, no dye seemed to do the trick, perhaps you were buying cheap brands?

“Yeah, I’m sure she does,” you rolled your eyes before pinching his nose, at which he swatted your hand away.

“So which book are we reading tonight?” Sana asked, walking into your childhood home with a book in her hand. You could guess which one it was.

“The Lightning Thief!” your son squealed when Sana held the book up.

“Don’t you get tired of reading the same one again and again?” you asked, watching Sana as she took a seat on the other side of the bed.

“Nope!” your son said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“Okay, but aren’t you curious about what happens next—?”

“Oh, don’t start this again,” Sana said, as she conspirately shook her head with your son, clearly over your grumbling.

“I’m just saying—!”

“Oh look at the time,” your son pulled up his empty wrist. “It’s bedtime, we only have time to read a few pages, let's get started!”

Scowling, you pinched your son’s cheek and he had the audacity to giggle.

Sana had started reading the chapter you’d stopped on. Her voice was soothing to listen to, even if the story wasn’t too uplifting. Getting comfortable, you curled up next to your son over his quilt and watched his drooping eyes struggle to stay open.

As Sana finished the chapter, she glanced over. A smile tugged on her lips when she found that your son was deep asleep.

With a nod, you kissed him on the forehead and made sure he was comfortable. Following suit, Sana placed a kiss of her own on his temple. The pair of you exited the room on your tiptoes and slowly closed the door behind you.

“I’ll take the book back,” you said, extending your hand out.

Instead, Sana placed a kiss on your cheek, her eyes lidded.

“What was that for?” you asked, surprised but you weren’t complaining.

“Just because,” she shrugged and then handed the book over to you.

“Are you stalling seeing my parents?” you asked with a smirk as your hand came to rest by her neck, your thumb tipping her jaw to face you.

“Not at all,” Sana said with such conviction that if you didn’t know her better, you’d have believed her.

“They won’t take much time, I won’t let them interrogate you. I can tell them we’re tired and we need rest,” you said tilting your head to the side. “Which we do, honestly.”

Sana nodded with a sigh, her eyes shuttered close as she leaned into the warmth of your palm.

You pulled yourself in for a kiss, a gentle one, on her lips. Sana hummed before pushing away.

“I’ll see you in a second,” you whispered. “You got this.”

She nodded and turned towards the stairs. You waited till she reached the bottom of the stairs before making your way to the guest room. Staying for such a short time, there was no need to unpack completely, and for that, you were slightly grateful. That meant you could hide things without anyone being the wiser.

Dropping the book down on the open suitcase, you kneeled to rummage through the clothes. Making sure to lift layers of clothes as it is, you find a small velvet box at the very bottom. The sight of it brought a smile to your face. It can only mean so many things, though you still have some things to complete.

Leaving it in the same room would be a gamble. The guest room was basically empty, anyone would be able to find it. Every other room in this house had someone staying in it or had them frequent it often. Anything moved out of its place would ring the alarm bells, no, you needed to hide this somewhere no one was likely to check.

So you walked back to your childhood room and entered as quietly as you could. Your son was sound asleep. The left door on your cupboard creaked when it opened, but if you applied pressure on the hinges as you opened, it made barely any sound. Locating the bottommost drawer, you pulled up your old clothes and shoved the box at the very back before hiding it under the clothes.

Happy with your task, you exited the room just as stealthily and made your way down to join your family as if nothing were amiss.

Even with the help of your mother, it seems your son had difficulty mastering blue food.

Somehow your mother managed to convince your son from an elaborate tiered cake to a classic sponge cake to plain old blueberry muffins. You’d hoped that maybe you could escape for the day, maybe with Sana, around your old neighbourhood. Unfortunately, you’d been roped in as assistant chefs and taste-testers instead.

Seated on the couch, you watched three of the most important people in your family take a crack at making blueberry muffins which were actually blue in colour. Sana had been assigned mixing duty, which made no sense to you because you knew for a fact your mother had an ancient stand mixer lying around somewhere in the house. Though Sana didn’t seem to share your sense of justice as she was happy to do so.

Your mother was taking her time going through the recipe book and teaching your son her own techniques. The sight helped you recall some of your own moments under her wing in the kitchen, though you were neither as interested nor skilled to be there. Oh but your son, he was completely enraptured. You’ve never seen him in school and struggled to attend parent-teacher meetings, but you guessed this is how he was in class as well. The swell of pride on your chest was an indescribable feeling.

When Sana said that the batter was ready, your head perked up. Leaving your place on the couch, you made your way to the kitchen. Making sure your mother and son were distracted by the oven, you moved behind Sana. You had to be quick!

Rounding one hand on her waist, you placed your chin over her shoulder and at that, she chuckled while snuggling into your side. And then, you struck.

Your free hand’s index finger dipped into the bowl to carry a dollop of aqua-blue batter straight into your mouth.

By the time Sana had realized what you’d just done, you were already out of her reach. Her indignant shriek altered the other two chefs of your crime, though even they couldn’t do much now.

When the muffins had been completed, you were surprised to see they were properly blue. Not some horrid inedible shade of green.

Your first question after inhaling a few muffins alongside your father was to your mother.

“How did you get them so blue?” you asked, staring at the dishes in the sink, looking as if a smurf had been murdered. “We never managed.”

“Well, depends if you bothered to buy the brand I told you to,” your mother showed an empty tube on the counter and you rolled your eyes at the dig.

“I did buy that brand!” you said, moving to pick up and examine the tube… only to find two more tubes hidden, flattened beyond recognition.

“Well, then it depends on quantity,” your mother said as you turned on the balls of your feet, incredulous.

“Is this much dye even healthy?” you asked, already reading the ingredients on the tube.

“Guess we’ll find out,” your mother only shrugged as she looked at her husband, still scarfing down the muffins. You sent your mother another incredulous look but she just laughed at her own silly joke.

As the holiday came to an end, you finally got your chance to spend some time alone with Sana.

Your father claimed he barely got any time to spend with his grandson. Of course, that was a complete lie. With how much time and money he spent, you’d even debated getting your son a gift at all. Though that was out of the question, you and Sana had already set your mind on what it was and had it ordered beforehand. You just had to go collect it.

So your father said he’d take you all to the park. Once there, you let them go their own way. One moment, your son was accompanying your father and the next he was running at the nearest dog, eager to pet it.

Holding hands, you and Sana watched as you made your way through the park. With every step, you were getting further away until you could see your son no more. Suddenly, the velvet box in your jacket pocket weighed you down, as if it had materialized into your jacket out of thin air.

“Not going to lie,” Sana started, “I thought you’d show me more of your old home.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know, something like your old friends? Your old school? Old hang-out spots?” Sana drew on. “Maybe how that high school enemy of yours and how they work at a general store, having never escaped this small town?”

“I don’t know what winter budget film you watched, but that’s not happening here,” you rolled your eyes at her imagination. “Also, what enemy?”

“The first-place winner,” Sana said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh please, I’m not that petty to be thinking about something that happened so long ago,” Sana watched you intently, nodding along almost in a mocking manner. “And besides, they’re a professor at the university across the city, I believe.”

Sana’s grin widened as you just realised what you admitted.

“I wasn’t keeping tabs on them! I just saw a post of theirs recently, alright!” you cried, though it fell on deaf ears.

The most important thing to come out of the walk was your destination. To and back, it was mostly filled with Sana’s inane questions (filled with imaginative scenarios to paint you as some egregious husk of a human, might you add) and you answering them with proper facts and maybe some anecdotes. Sana stopped by the crafts store to collect wrapping paper while you collected your son’s gift.

It was the following series of his favourite books; Heroes of Olympus.

Yes, he has yet to finish the last two books of the current series. And yes, you’d only just berated (teased) him about rereading the first book. But you could just imagine how his face would light up when he sees these books. In fact… you don’t even know if you’ll be reading these books to him by the time he gets to them, which was strange to think about but really, there wasn’t a better gift for your son.

When you arrived back home, your son was taking a nap on the couch, which made it all the more easier to wrap the present for him and get dinner ready.

When your son woke up the table was already set and the first thing he did was take his seat. All eyes were on him, everyone was wearing smiles watching him practically bounce on his seat. He gets to have his dinner, the muffins that he made, and then open his gifts early. Your father, chuckling, ruffled his hair and took a seat beside him.

Dinner, for the most part, was uneventful as usual. That's not to say you didn’t have any fun. You did, you really did. As you ate your meal, you took a backseat in the conversation, observing just how comfortable Sana was alongside your family. She had absolutely nothing to be worried about. Your parents adored her. Almost as much as how much you and your son did.

“So when is it?” your father’s question filtered in and you looked away from your nearly clean plate.

“When is what?” you asked before taking your final bite.

“I asked when are you two getting married?”

Sana had to rub your back so you didn’t choke on your food, or worse, spit it across the table.

“What?” you tip a sip of water. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a valid question, really,” your mother admitted, not really looking at you, but you could see the smile toying at the edge of her lips.

“Yeah, when is it happening?” your son looked up at you, eyes wide and shiny.

“Um…” you turned to Sana for some help. Instead, she took her hand from your back and placed her chin on it, leaning in and expecting your answer as well.

The velvet box seemed to burn in your jacket pocket.

Somehow, you’d managed to get out of that dreadful situation.

Once the plates were cleared and blueberry muffins disappeared. It was time for presents.

As if aware of what he might get, your son gravitated toward the large box set you’d gotten. And you were right.

Nothing could compare to the expression on his face when he realized what he’d gotten.

Without hesitation, he jumped into your arms and thanked you a thousand times. You reminded him that Sana had pitched in as well and he was flying at her to give her the same treatment.

Perhaps, you were petty.

Because you took pride that no other gift earned the same amount of excitement.

The night settled down and your family received one last gift from your mother.

When all of you were out, she’d tidied up the backyard and made hot chocolate.

All throughout this holiday, every moment seemed to be building up to this one.

Under the twinkling fairy lights, you joined your son on the steps to the backyard. He was sitting with his knees up, his hands toying with a small figurine of Poseidon. Sana had bought it for him the moment she laid eyes on it, having thrifted it from some store, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Seeming to be in deep thought, your son watched the sight before him. With steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands, your parents conversed with Sana. You didn’t know what she said, but it had your father throwing his head back and letting loose a loud snort. Your mother’s eyes crinkled in amusement as she flitted her attention back and forth between them.

Clearing your throat, you began to speak. “Your hot chocolate is turning into cold chocolate, you know.”

You were sure that comment would earn a look from him, but instead, your son moved a hand towards his cup, the figurine still in the other. He sighed and brought the cup to his mouth anyway. But before he could take a sip, you switched out his for your own cup.

“Here, have mine,” you said, carefully placing the warm cup in his hands.

Your son mumbled his thanks and sipped the drink silently, his eyes back on Sana. There was something he wanted to say. You had something you wanted to ask him too. But you decided to wait him out, let him come to you first because you surmised both of you wanted to discuss the same thing.

And so for a moment, on Christmas day, you sat in silence with your son, on the steps to your childhood backyard, sipping warm (and yours, cold) chocolate.

When he was done halfway with his hot chocolate, he placed the cup back down. You followed him. His hands were fidgeting with the figurine again, spinning it round and round, only stopping from time to time to run his index finger over the trident.

“Grandpa was right, you know,” you’ve never heard your son’s voice so small. Wavering, as if he were confused, nervous even. “Why haven’t you asked Sana to marry you?”

He paused to bite his lip while his eyes flitted to the figurine, thumb caressing the figurine’s armour.

“Is it because of me?” he asked. The utterance is almost like an exhale, light but onerous.

It would be so easy to provide empty consolation, that no, it wasn’t anything to do with him. But he knows you too well for that to pass, he’d see right through your attempt. Your son is already quite wise beyond his years, especially at the most inopportune times for you, and was only getting older. For as long as you can remember, it's only ever been the two of you.

Your dates, however rare, come and go. His babysitters, much to his distaste in the beginning, come and go. Having a partner at the start seemed so important, if not to share the burden of caring for a child, then to at least have another figure for your son to look up to. And when you questioned that sort of thinking, you’d figured that all that really mattered was that you were there for your son. With little time as you did have with him in your day, you fought to make time for him. You hadn’t even entertained the idea, that perhaps, you’d date just for yourself. When it came to your son or some romantic dalliance that would never amount to anything real, the choice was easy.

Because at the end of the day, it's only ever been the two of you.

But all of that changed when Sana arrived at your doorstep.

You doubted that neither of you, all three of you even, expected this outcome.

So you understood where your son was coming from, asking this question.

And you decided to be honest with your son, as you always have.

“Yes, in a way.”

Finally, your son turned his full attention to you. His hands were still holding the figurine, but they weren’t fidgeting anymore.

You also turned to face him.

Round eyes had turned sharp, searching for something. Yet his face was a little less expressive, more difficult to read. There were lines of worry decorating his forehead, he seemed older. He’s always by your side, it’s so easy to miss. But this close, on this night, it was obvious. He had grown up.

“Before I asked her, I wanted to ask you,” you confessed. The velvet box that was previously hidden underneath your old clothes in the third drawer of your cupboard was now heavy in your pocket. Your son tilted his head in question. “For as long as I can remember, it has been just you and me.”

You sighed. These words were harder to get out than you’d expected.

“I know you like Sana, and I know she already stays with us, and I know you know how much I love her,” the corner of your son’s lips twitched up a bit. “But there’s a difference between being together and being married. I think it’s a big step. And I don’t want to take that step with your blessing.”

It only took your son a fraction of a second to react. He nodded, eager to say yes.

“Of course, I want this for you,” he said, grinning. “She makes you happy. You make her happy too. And that makes me happy!”

And he was back.

He was giggling to himself as he poked your side with a finger. You rolled your eyes as you tried to brave the tickling sensation.

“But seriously, I want this,” he nodded before turning his attention back to his cup of hot chocolate. He was going to take a sip, but stopped and looked at you. “And… and thanks for asking me.”

“Of course,” was all you could say as both of you went to take a sip from your mugs.

“Ugh!” your son let out an ugly bleh! and frowned. Your parents and Sana turned to look over at you. “This is so cold! Is yours too?”

Your mother chuckled and nodded. From across the yard, she asked. “Shall we go heat them up?”

“Yes, please!” your son stood up and pocketed his figurine. He extended a hand for your cup as well. When you gave it up, he whispered conspiraterly before your mother could whisk him away. “Good luck! You got this!”

And then with a giggle, he’d skipped off into the house.

Your mother stopped at the steps just as you got up and dusted yourself up.

“What were you two whispering about?” she asked with an uptick of her brow as if she hadn’t had her guesses. You shrugged.

“What were you laughing about?” you asked. Your mother glanced back at your father and Sana, then back to you. She shrugged.

“Okay, be like that then,” you said and your mother only chuckled.

Then, she turned back again and called out to your father. “Did you take your tablets?”

“Shit, no!” your father excused himself and rushed over.

“Language!” your mother said as your father zoomed past, though he was more hobbling. Then your mother looked back at you. “She’ll say yes.”

And with that, she followed your father in and closed the balcony door to shut away the cold air.

You turned to Sana. She was already looking at you.

Without a mug, she had nothing to fidget with, so she had her hands steepled in front of her stomach. Her eyes were wide, expectant, as you made your way over.

“Hey,” you said, both your hands finding their place in your pockets. Of course, it was only a front to find the box they were hiding.

“Hi,” she said, the corner of her lips twitching up.

There was nothing left to do. Nothing more you were so sure of.

So instead of stuffing up the moment with unprepared words and emotion, you pulled out the box.

Sana didn’t gasp or squeal or tear up. She just raised her steepled hands to her lips, her cheeks pushed up so high, elated crinkles forming beside her eyes.

You weren't a grand person either. No big dinner, no big celebration, no build-up. You’d considered it, you really had, merely for the sake of Sana. But everything else just felt so unlike you, well, unlike the pair of you. Your start had been so simple, so unassuming, only because there was already so much between you. And everything that had followed, with her, and her with your son, had been the same. Everything just made sense.

But you did think, perhaps, you should get down on one knee.

So you started lowering yourself to the ground as you opened the box. But before you could complete the pose, Sana grabbed you by your collar and pulled you into a crushing kiss.

You surmised that was a yes and smiled into the kiss.

“Come on, come on,” your son was ecstatic, practically shooting off from his seat on the couch. Sana only smiled to herself as she set up the laptop on the coffee table, making sure the camera showed everyone and that she looked all right. “We’re in!”

Handing Sana the mugs in your hands, you seated yourself down and lifted your son onto your lap. Just as you were taking back your mug, a shrill voice shrieked. “Sana!”

Your son giggled while your eyes widened. Because Sana returned the greeting with the same energy. “Nayeon!”

You’ve heard of that one before, Nayeon, and seen photos of her too. Well, you couldn’t remember exactly, Sana had quite the group of friends but when Nayeon’s face appeared along with another person, you just smiled and waved awkwardly.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Nayeon said politely to you just as another screen popped up. You knew them, the newlyweds!

You parroted her greeting as more screens popped up with familiar faces, but none close. You’ve only heard stories or seen photos. The laptop erupted with voices, none of which you recognized, it was quite overwhelming. Though, Sana had no trouble at all catching the flow of the conversation and laughing along. Your son seemed to follow her, although silently. Someone with the name of Choi Tzuyu housed two people on their screen, they both waved at your son, who responded eagerly.

“I think everyone is here!” one of the women said, her profile name read Jihyo. She was clearly wearing a suit, though her tie had been undone. “Yup, headcount done, everyone is here. How are we moving forward with this?”

“Well, that depends on Sana, really,” a woman from Nayeon’s screen said, she’d just joined the pair that was already there. She was wearing a smug smile, and in response, Sana rolled her eyes.

Both you and your son turned to Sana, expectant.

Grinning at the ground, feigning bashfulness, Sana held up her left hand. And there it was, glinting in the light, your engagement ring.

The audio lagged from how much volume erupted. Someone wolf-whistled, while the others laughed and clapped. You knew people were congratulating you, but you were too busy fending off Sana burying her forehead into your shoulder. Only your son seemed to delight in the revelry.

And then, to your horror, someone yelled. “Show us your ring too!”

Before you could even lift your hand, your son had taken your left hand and held it above his head, showcasing the matching ring!

Someone shrieked again, although this time around the celebration was a bit more subdued.

“Damn, I thought we were all gonna scream again but okay,” the one with the profile name Hirai Momo said, while the person next to them swatted their arm. “What? It’s—”

“Please ignore Momo, congrats on your engagement,” Jihyo said, leaning forward, trying to look right at you. “I know Sana has been excited about this for quite a while.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, as Sana pulled away from you, a blush coating her cheeks.

“We knew this was coming,” the profile Dahyun said, “but I think this is the first child in our little group—hello!”

Your son perked up as all attention was on him. “Hello!”

He was readying himself to be asked questions, to share his interest in cooking with a whole new group of people, though the conversation switched again.

“He’s not the first child, we have children too,” Momo whined. “Look, Boo and Dobby are here.”

And then she continued to make the most obnoxious noise to call over her dogs.

“You did not just compare an adorable kid to your feral dogs,” said the person next to Momo, even though they reached out to a dog themself and picked one up. “I’m sorry for this one, kid.”

Your son didn’t seem to mind, instead, he was absolutely taken with the two dogs in the hands of the couple.

“Then, I guess I have children too,” someone from the profile Choi Tzuyu said and called over another dog too.

“Oh, Tzuyu, you’re back home?” someone asked and once again, the conversation changed.

Smiling at the sight, you were content with just seeing Sana interact with her friends. She’d been pretty adamant about staying with you for this Christmas, and she’d mentioned how horrid the one before had been. It was the reason this group had decided to call this time around.

Then out of the blue, Jihyo asked. “So when is the wedding?”

“Why are you asking? So you can bring that plus-one of yours from last time?”

The call erupted again.

“Right, right, how long are you just going to be attending weddings? When are you going—”

“Jeongyeon, I’m going to stop you right there, you’re giving me traumatic flashbacks to my mom,” Jihyo said, holding up her hands. “And, that plus-one was a one-time thing, I’ll probably never see them again.”

“They’ll probably be there for Sana’s wedding, let's be honest,” even the slightest mention of your wedding had you sweating. Sana seemed to notice.

Muting yourself, Sana turned to you. “They’re going to go at this for a while, thanks for agreeing to meet them… they’re basically family to me.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” you said, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. You ignored the one who whistled again. You were muted, not off-camera. You tried not to display your embarrassment. “I’ll get this one ready for bed then.”

Your son was pouting, but Sana just nodded. “I’ll finish up this call, and we can finish up your favourite chapter.”

At that, your son’s smile returned.

“Come on,” you said, picking him up and giving him a boost to land across the couch. You took the empty mug from Sana’s hand and left as she re-entered the conversation as if her little pause never occurred.

“Mina! Ask Mina, she’s single too—!”

“But we’re here to talk about you, Jihyo—!”

“What do you mean? You just got engaged!”

Their voices faded with every step you took away from Sana, your son in tow.

Maybe it was the end of the year, maybe it was the communal holiday spirit, but every Christmas, you found yourself reminiscing about past memories. Watching your son take his first steps, to watching him become confident in his own skin, you were glad he was surrounded by people who loved him as much as you did. And now, that permanently included Sana. These holidays have changed so many things, all of which you were so deeply grateful for.

Surged with a wave of emotion upon reaching the threshold of your childhood bedroom, and unable to suppress your elation, you grabbed your son by the hips and lifted him into the air. You were sure the sound of his surprised giggles would stay imprinted in your mind for many more Christmases to come.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: first and foremost, i am so very sorry dear anon for getting this to you almost two fucking years later ;-; and second, happy percy jackson day !!

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

#mala's collection #sanccharine #sana x reader #twice x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #sana fluff #single parent au #christmas au #blueberry muffins

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