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headkiss · 4 months

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maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

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Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

“Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can’t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

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orchidniins · 28 days

Note

anything for arthur hill 😭😭 maybe with a musician partner? no pressure take your time!! <3

Heartstrings | Arthur Hill

Summary: Y/N is a musician on her first solo tour. All she wanted was her boyfriend to be there to support her, but conflicting schedules might make for a bittersweet reunion. Pairings: Arthur Hill x Musician! afab!Reader Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut Word Count: 6.8k A/N: Thanks anon for the request! There needs to be more on tumblr for our talented king!!! This fic took a very different turn than what I had intended it to have. I also had planned to have this done like 2 weeks ago, but then I got rejected from the grad program of my dreams and have just been down in the dumps about it for a while so I didn't have the motivation to write for a bit. But I'm back and feeling better now, so I'm going to start writing more regularly.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Surrounded by the buzzing energy backstage, you stand in a dimly lit corridor. Staff scurry around, with headsets and clipboards, finalizing last-minute details, the hum of voices and hurried footsteps echoing off the walls. Amidst all the organized chaos, the only thing you can hear is the pounding of your heart and the muffled thump of the bass from the stage. As always, a flurry of excited nerves bubble in your stomach right before your cue.

You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm your nerves as your makeup artist puts the finishing touches on your makeup, ensuring it's flawless and accentuates your features perfectly. Simultaneously, your stylist adjusts your top from behind, the outfit meticulously chosen to embody the concept of your album.

Tonight marked the final show of your first solo tour, a moment that once felt like an unattainable dream. And you had relished every moment of the past two months on the road. From the electric energy of the stage to the bone-deep exhaustion of late nights and early mornings, and you loved every single second of it. Yet, amidst the overwhelming excitement, a different emotion began to surface—a subtle pang of disappointment that tugged at your heart.

You made your way toward the stage entrance, still out of view of the audience. Their murmured conversations intertwined with the ambient music playing in the venue. With just ten minutes until your set time, you peered into the crowd, scanning the sea of faces and you searched for one person in particular: your boyfriend, Arthur.

Arthur had been one of your biggest supporters since long before you two became a couple. Being a musician himself, he understood and empathized with all that you had gone through to get where you are today: the late nights, the hours of hard work, the busy schedules, and the stress and fears that came with all of it. When you had broke the news of your first solo tour, he was easily the happiest person in the room.

---------------

The pair of you were cozied up on the couch in your apartment, your legs draped over his lap as you snuggled close, halfway through a movie that you couldn’t even remember anymore when you received a call from your manager.

As you made a move to get up and answer your phone, Arthur’s arm wrapped around you, a playful pout formed on his lips. "No, don't go," he murmured softly, his hand tightened on your thigh to keep you in place.

“I’ll be right back…it’s just, it could be important,” you said softly, offering him a gentle smile before planting a tender kiss on his nose. "Just give me a minute," you reassured him, feeling his grip on you loosen as he gave you a small nod. With a resigned sigh, you peeled yourself out of his comforting embrace, slipping away to take the call.

You paced around the living room, absorbed in conversation with your manager, while Arthur rested his chin on the back of the sofa. His gaze followed you intently, furrowing his eyebrows in an attempt to decipher the conversation from your expressions and strings of “okays” and “uh-huhs”. After a few minutes, you ended your call, spinning on your heels to face him, disbelief etched on your face.

You pause for a moment, dumbfounded, the words caught in your throat. Arthur looked at you expectantly and finally he broke the silence, "So? Everything ok?"

"I'm going on tour!", you screamed out, your voice filled with excitement as you jumped up and down in sheer joy.

He sprung off the couch, reaching you in an instant with his arms wide open.You jumped into his arms, overwhelmed with pure joy. He wrapped you in a tight embrace, lifting you slightly off the floor in one swift move. His wide smile mirrored yours, reflecting the genuine happiness he felt for you and you felt so lucky to have him by your side, celebrating this moment with you.

Gently, he set you back down on the ground, and as you faced each other, his hands found their place on your waist while yours naturally rested on his forearms. "I knew you were gonna make it big," he whispered, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

You playfully teased him back, a grin tugging at your lips. "Look who's talking," you quipped, your tone light and teasing.

He lightly chuckled, his lips met yours in a soft and sweet kiss. As he pulled away, a hand caressed your cheek, his gaze filled with pride. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered, his voice laced with sincerity.

Arthur knew the dedication you poured into your music, especially your most recent album. His acknowledgment of your talent and his unwavering faith in you meant more than words could express. "It was only a matter of time until the whole world saw what I saw," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "How talented you are." Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt overwhelmed by his words.

"Baby, why the tears?" Arthur gently wiped them away, his expression softening as he saw the conflicting emotions in your face.

"I-I don't know what to feel," you whispered, your voice came out shaky, as he wrapped you in another comforting hug. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, and the two of you stood in silence for a moment. “I’m kinda scared babe,” you finally spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper, your vulnerability coming through in the trembling of your words.

You pulled away slightly, your eyes falling to your feet. Arthur, sensing your apprehension, bent down slightly to have a look at your face. "Hey, hey, listen to me," he said gently, his hands lifting your chin to meet his eyes.

He smiled at you warmly, "I, of all people, know how hard you've worked for this."

"And I know you are going to do great,” he continued, his smile growing wider. "And best believe I'm going to be at every single show to support you. You're going to kill it out there, babe."

—------------

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the backstage manager's announcement: "Five minutes to go." her voice snaps you back to reality.

The reality was that two months had passed, and Arthur hadn’t been able to make it to a single one of your headline shows. Usually, before either of your shows, you’d atleast video call each other, finding solace in seeing his face and hearing his voice over the phone. But this time, you chose to forgo it, not wanting to set yourself up for disappointment again.

You let go of any hope that he might appear for this one and focus on trying to hyping yourself up instead.

But you didn't blame Arthur for not being there, he was currently on tour as well. While he had offered to rearrange a few dates to work around yours, you declined the idea instantly, not wanting to inconvenience him or his fans. So in the end, you two recognized that the two of you just had to make it work, and moving around either of your tour dates was impractical.

Most of your show dates overlapped or were in different cities altogether, making it logistically challenging for Arthur to be there at your shows. Despite this, you managed to catch a few of his shows over the past few months, even flying out to Glasgow the week before, only to have him whisked away to another city shortly after.

He was always extremely apologetic about it, but you couldn't help but feel slightly upset each time. You felt selfish for feeling the way you did; after all, this situation was out of his hands. And dwelling on it only added unnecessary stress. It’s not like it made you love him any less. You were incredibly proud of the success Arthur had garnered and knew how hard he had worked for it. But at the end of the day, you were finding it difficult to shake off the disappointment of him not being able to witness perform live.

So you made a conscious effort to push aside those feelings of disappointment and focus on your performance. You shook out your shoulders and your hands, trying to calm your nerves, trying to get yourself in the right headspace to deliver your finale show. Then, once both your tours ended, you looked forward to having your boyfriend's undivided attention once again.

As you finally step onto stage, highlighted under the spotlight, you are welcomed by the roar of the crowd. You let the booming sounds drown out whatever you were feeling previously and you felt the nerves melt away as you started to sing your music. You pour all you have into your set, feeding off of the electric energy of the crowd.

As your final song begins to fade into the air, you take a moment to catch your breath, taking a little bow. "Thank you London!" you scream, your voice ringing with sincerity. "You have been amazing tonight. I love you all so much!" Tears well up in your eyes as you bid your final goodbyes to the cheering crowd. With a final wave, you make your exit from the stage, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

As you pull out your ear monitor and hand it, along with your mic, to one of the staff members, they swiftly assist you in removing your mic pack. You take a moment to express your gratitude to them and exchange thanks with everyone who passes by at that moment. Left alone for just about a minute, you take a deep breath, allowing yourself to calm down and soak in the moment. A sense of accomplishment washed over you, disbelief as you realized that you had just completed your first headline tour.

Amidst the bustling backstage atmosphere of people packing up, your manager approaches you, enveloping you in a warm hug. "You were absolutely incredible out there," she says, her voice filled with pride.

"Thank you so much," you reply gratefully. "I couldn't have done any of this without you."

As she pulls away, she mentions with a warm smile, "Nonsense, you worked so incredibly hard for this."

You flash her a smile, as she continues, "I've got to head out soon, tuck my kid into bed. You’ll be okay if I leave first?”

You nod understandingly, "Of course. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I’ve got your assistant to keep me company."

She smiles appreciatively, giving you a final hug before bidding you farewell, "Take care, and go celebrate with the band tonight! Use the company card!"

As she heads off, you chuckle at her parting words. Her assistant approaches, congratulating you, "Great show, Y/N. You absolutely killed it out there."

You exchange a hug with him, expressing your gratitude. He then hands you a towel and a bottle of water.

You take the bottle from him with a small smile, engaging in light conversation as you sip on it. As you hand back the half-empty bottle, your gaze catches a familiar head of messy hair entering the backstage area through the stage exit.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize it's Arthur, standing there with a proud smile on his face. It feels almost surreal seeing him at one of your shows in the flesh. You couldn't believe it. Having given up hopes of seeing him at your show, the moment felt too good to be true, as if you're caught in a dream. Especially considering he had his own show tonight as well, the fact that he'd made it felt nothing short of a miracle.

You are pulled out of your thoughts when you hear someone clearing their throat. You look back to your manager's assistant, who shifts awkwardly before speaking up. "Well, I'm gonna go be someplace else," he says, his tone a tad awkward.

"Yeah, sure," you respond quickly, offering a polite smile. "Just call me if you need anything," he adds hurriedly. "I have some things to wrap up." You nod in acknowledgment and offer a quick thanks as he swiftly exits the backstage area.

Now that the two of you were alone, Arthur walks up to you. Despite feeling happy to see him, you couldn't shake off the lingering sense of disappointment. All you wanted was for him to be there, to watch you perform, and the frustration of his absence during your shows still weighed heavily on you. And your facial expression reflected how you were feeling. When he finally reaches you, you make no effort to move.

Arthur had always been able to read you like an open book, and he had noticed the slightly annoyed, tight-lipped expression on your face. Rather than trying to coax you into a better mood with words, he instead pulls you into an embrace. Despite your attempt to appear upset, your body betrays you as your arms instinctively wrap around him, drawing him closer. As he holds you, you can't help but melt into his touch, your tummy doing a little flip as you take in his familiar scent. His presence has a calming effect, momentarily pushing aside the frustration you were feeling just moments ago.

You feel him smile against your hair as he feels you wrap your arms around him tighter. "Hey, you," he murmurs softly against your hair, exuding sweetness. Despite feeling comforted by his presence, you still feel slightly conflicted."Hi," you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than usual.

He then pulls away, his hands gently cupping your face as he looks into your eyes before he leans in, engulfing your lips in a soft kiss. The warmth of his lips against yours elicits a response, kissing him back, but Arthur can sense that something is amiss. "I thought you'd be happier to see me," he says, flashing you his cute heart-melting smile. You try to put on a brave face, reminding yourself to be happy now that he was finally here. "No, I'm excited to see you," you insist, placing both your hands on his chest, though your voice lacks its usual enthusiasm.

You try to force a smile, but then a realization flashes across your features. With a cocked eyebrow, you ask, "Didn't you have a show today? When did you get here?" You attempt to steer the conversation away from you. With a gentle smile, he says "I left as soon as my show ended. I caught the end of your show. You were amazing." He adds, "You did so well out there." You muster a faint, "Oh, thank you, babe," but your smile falls short of its usual brightness. Arthur lets out a sigh as he grows more concerned by the shift in your demeanor.

Arthur's expression turns serious. "Hey, what happened, baby? Tell me what's wrong," he urges gently. You hesitate for a moment before responding, "Nothing, I'm fine." He gives you a skeptical look, and you quickly add, "Seriously, I'm fine," trying to brush it off. Deep down, you feel the urge to cry, and the last thing you wanted right now was for Arthur to see you in tears.

Just then, you hear a mix of voices coming from the stage, and Arthur takes a step back from you, turning to face the direction of the noise. You see the band finally making it backstage after packing up their instruments. One of the band members waves to you as they walk by and calls out, "Hey Y/N, you coming with us for a drink?" Sniffling, you quickly wipe your eyes, determined to rid them of any tears that may threaten to spill. Gathering yourself, you reply, "Yeah, just give me a few minutes. I need to change. I'll be right there with you lot." They nod quickly before heading off to their green rooms.

You turn back to Arthur, who was still eyeing you with a concerned expression and furrowed eyebrows. "Talk to me, Y/N," he says, his hands grabbing yours, his thumbs running comfortingly over your hands. Part of you wanted to break down and tell Arthur everything, how you've hated not having him here, how upset you've been. But you know that if he sees you like this, he would feel absolutely horrible and blame everything on himself.

Swallowing hard, you remove your hands from his and respond softly, "Nothing, I'm just tired." Arthur's concern deepens, and he suggests, "Okay, then let's get you back home. I don't have to leave until the morning anyways."

You quickly interject, "No, it's fine. I think I should go out with the band for a bit. They've worked so hard, I should celebrate with them. I won't be out long." By the look of his face you knew that he wasn't buying it, so you continued, "I'll just go change real quick, and then we'll go out. I think we both deserve a bit of a night out, yeah?" He nods with a smile, and you tell him to wait as you head off toward your dressing room, hoping to compose yourself in private.

You quickly enter your dressing room and shut the door behind you, just wanting a moment to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you stand in front of the mirror, trying to compose yourself. You look at yourself, trying to push away the feelings of frustration and letdown that were bubbling up to the surface again. You remind yourself to be okay, not wanting to start a petty fight with Arthur over something so trivial. With your tour now over you were now happy to have the time to support him.

But, before you could stop them, tears start rolling down your face, tracing hot paths down your cheeks, smearing some of your mascara in the process. "Pull yourself together," you whisper to your reflection, your voice trembling slightly. You grab a makeup wipe from the packet on the dressing table and attempt to wipe away the tears and clean up some of the smudged makeup under your eyes, but the tears don’t stop coming. You try to calm yourself down again, but in that moment, you break down. Finally crying freely as you let your head hang and your hands coming up to cover your face, releasing the pent-up frustration that had been building over the past 2 months.

You didn’t realize that your sobs were now audible through the door until you heard a soft knock. Arthur's voice, laced with concern, seeps through the crack. "Baby, are you okay?" he asks gently. "Please open the door. Tell me what happened."

You hesitate, feeling torn between wanting to let him in and not wanting him to see you like this, afraid that your reasons might upset him as well. As you glance at the door, you hurriedly wipe your tears, attempting to regain your composure. "Everything's fine," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling slightly, "Just give me a few minutes."

Arthur's voice gets slightly louder, "Y/N, don't lie to me, please," he pleads. "I need to see that you're okay. Please just open the door, baby."

You feel a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that he genuinely cared about your well-being. Despite your reluctance, you can't bear to keep him waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to the door and unlock it, allowing Arthur to step inside.

He instantly pulls you into another hug, drawing you close to his chest. His arms envelop you, trying to comfort you. One of his hands moves to the back of your head, gently stroking your hair soothingly as you lightly sob into his shirt. You stay there for a moment.

Sensing your sobs beginning to subside, he gently attempts to pull away, intending to get a better look at your face. "Come on, baby, let me see you," he whispers softly. You shake your head softly, not wanting him to see your tear-streaked face, and snuggle even closer to him. He lets you stay nestled against him, resting his chin on your head and pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asks very softly, trying to be patient with you. He knew that when you got like this, trying to force you to talk was never the answer. He understood that if you felt pressured, you would only shut down further.

You slowly shake your head, not knowing how to even start that conversation. He mutters, "Are you sure?" and you reply with a hesitant nod, "Yes, I'm fine." Though he doesn't believe you, he lets you stay in his arms for a little while longer, sensing your reluctance to open up. After a while, he continues, "Come on, baby, let it out. You know you’ll feel better if you just talk about it." He strokes your hair soothingly, encouraging you to share your feelings.

He says softly, "We can stay like this for as long as you want, but eventually, you're gonna have to come up for air." You chuckle slightly, feeling a bit lighter after releasing all the built-up emotions. With a deep breath, you pull away from his embrace, looking up at him with puffy eyes, smeared eye makeup and tear stained cheeks. Though you'd stopped crying, looking at the tender loving look in his eyes makes tears well up in your eyes again.

He lightly cups your face, wiping away at your tears. You nod, signaling that you are about to speak. Despite the concern in his eyes, he gives you a reassuring smile, silently encouraging you to go on.

"Okay, yeah…," you begin, your voice trembling slightly. You pause, trying to gather your thoughts before continuing, "Arthur, it's just that... Okay, now, whatever I'm about to say, you shouldn't get upset by it, alright? I’m probably just making a big deal out of nothing," His worry deepens, his brows furrowing. "Baby, just tell me. You're scaring me now," he urges softly.

Softly chuckling, you reassure him, "It's nothing like that," as you gently guide his hands away from your face, holding onto his forearms. You finally say, "Arthur, it's just... it hasn't been the easiest not having you here," your voice shaky with emotion. "I know we’ve talked about it before, and I know I’ve repeatedly said that I’m okay with you not being here all the time and that I understand most of the time you just couldn't physically be here." Tears begin to well up in your eyes again as you continue, "But, when I imagined this whole tour thing in my head, I just imagined you at all my shows, and being able to celebrate with you backstage afterwards." You wipe away at your face, trying to compose yourself, and add, "You know what? It's stupid, just forget about it," before glancing down, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Arthur's expression softens as he listens intently to your words. "I'm sorry, Y/N" he begins, but you quickly interrupt, insisting, "You have nothing to be sorry for." Your head is still down, but he gently lifts your chin, meeting your gaze. "No, I should," he says softly, his eyes reflecting remorse. "I should have been more understanding. I absolutely loved having you supporting me at my shows, and I was just so happy whenever you were there. I am a dense idiot for not realizing that you would, of course, want the same thing. I should have tried harder to be here." He pauses, his voice filled with sincerity, "And I'm sorry for that."

"Arthur," you start saying, but he interrupts you, his voice tinged with remorse, "Even if I wasn't able to actually be here for you, I should have checked in more often with you... I feel like such a shitty boyfriend."

You quickly interject, "Hey, no! Honestly, I've been fine mostly. It's just that seeing you here today just brought everything out, that's all. I'll be okay in a bit," you assure him with a small smile.

"You don’t have to hide your feelings from me, or hide your tears. I love you and your emotional ass, so tell me everything, okay? Especially when I’ve done something to upset you, no matter how small you think it is. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t tell me something. And I promise you, I will never get mad at you," he reassures you, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here for you, always."

You look at him, at a loss for words, and he simply pulls you into a tight embrace. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as his encircle your waist. "I love you so much, baby," he whispers softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "And I’m so proud of everything you've achieved. You're not selfish at all for wanting me here. I’m the selfish one for not being here," he admits, his voice filled with remorse. "I promise I’ll be better in the future," he reassures you, holding you close.

You exhale deeply, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Meeting his gaze again, your foreheads gently touching, "Just having you here now means everything to me." Your voice is filled with sincerity and gratitude. "I love you too, Arthur," you whisper. As you finally manage to muster a genuine smile, he returns it warmly. "There's that smile I love so much," he remarks, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your mouth. You can't help but let out a small giggle in response.

Feeling a lot better now, you glance at his white T-shirt and let out a little laugh. "Sorry about your shirt," you say, noticing the makeup smudges and wet tear spots on it. He chuckles in response, "No, it's fine, it adds character." Then he teases, “You know, if I sell this shirt on eBay, I can make a ton of money from it. It'll be an authentic Y/N creation." You giggle, playfully rolling your eyes and lightly swatting at his chest.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious about your appearance, you mutter, "God, I must look like such a mess right now," as you wipe at your cheeks. With a sigh, you pull away from him and walk slowly back to the dressing table. Grabbing another wipe, you clean up your messy face, taking off the remaining makeup as well.

Arthur follows you, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watches you in the mirror. "Never," he murmurs softly, "you are the most beautiful woman I know, even when you cry." His words make you chuckle a little, scoffing lightly, and you see him smile with warm eyes.

He moves your hair aside, pressing a tender kiss to the exposed skin on your shoulder. "You always look perfect to me," he adds, "And besides, you looked like an absolute angel on stage today," he compliments, his eyes filled with admiration as he gazes at you in the mirror. You can't help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth spread through you. One of your hands comes up to rest on his, your head leaning against his. In that moment, all felt right again in the world, just the two of you together.

Once you're done wiping your makeup off, you turn in his arms to face him, leaning against the edge of the table. He looks at you with a tender smile, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. You take a moment to admire his handsome features, your hand gently caressing his face, tracing the lines of his smile with your thumb. As you smile back at him, you notice the slight dark circles forming under his eyes.

"Did you manage any sleep at all today?" you ask, your voice laced with concern, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek. A slight frown forms on your lips as you await his response. He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "No, I'm just running on adrenaline," he admits with a tired smile.

You nod sympathetically, understanding the toll a busy schedule can take. "How did your show go by the way?" you ask, your voice filled with genuine interest as you gaze at him intently. He starts detailing the performance, his eyes aglow with excitement.

You listen attentively, captivated by his every word. As he talks, you can't help but feel a sense of pride and joy for him, your expression mirroring his enthusiasm. "You really are amazing, Arthur," you compliment him with a warm smile. He responds with a playful scoff, "Oh please, stop it," earning a laugh from the both of you.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, gently tucking your hair behind your ears. You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “I’m sorry that I absolutely freaked out on you” you say, feeling slightly guilty but he quickly dismisses it, "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about."

"I mean, I was expecting you to run up and jump into my arms, but maybe next time." he says playfully. "Well, go stand over there. Give me some space for a run-up,” you suggest, playing along. Chuckling, he shakes his head, his hands gently resting on your waist. "No," he replies with a grin. You lean in and plant a soft peck on his cheek, returning his smile.

"But seriously, if you ever feel like this again, about anything, just talk to me, okay?" You nod in agreement, feeling incredibly grateful to have such a supportive boyfriend. "I promise," you assure him, squeezing his hand gently.

Arthur wraps his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer as he gently strokes the exposed skin on your back, a playful smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. Your hand instinctively moves up to his chest, a tingle spreading down your spine at the warmth of his touch. "You know," he murmurs softly, "I missed you." You respond with a giggle, teasingly saying, "Aw, Arthur, I missed you too." He leans in to kiss you, but you tilt your face away at the last minute, laughing as he ends up planting a kiss on your cheek instead.

"Well, If you missed me so much, then you should have come to more than just this show…. I mean I’ve been to pretty much every other one of yours," you jokingly tell him, a playful twinkle in your eye as you reach up to place a kiss on his jaw. He feigns hurt, "Oh, way to kick a guy when he's down babe."

“Hey, it's not like you’re completely forgiven,” you tease, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He pouts slightly, "You're right, I’ll make it up to you somehow." he says with a little wink, leaning in closer. His warm breath tickles your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips inch closer to yours. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as he places his hands on the table, trapping you between his body and the table. "In fact," he adds, "I can start right away if you want."

Without another word, his hand moves to the back of your neck, closing the distance between you two. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, and as the intensity of the moment grows, you melt into his embrace, lost in the sensation of his lips against yours. He deepens the kiss, his grip tightening at your waist, digging into the exposed flesh, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Your hand begins to move from his chest and slowly makes its way towards his pants, your fingertips lightly grazing the fabric over his crotch, but Arthur gently redirects your hand, placing it next to you on the table.

You pull away from your kiss, gasping for breath, confusion evident in your eyes as you gaze into his deep brown ones. Arthur lightly shakes his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. "It's all about you today, baby" he whispers softly against your lips. You visibly swallow, and it wasn’t long before his lips trail away from yours, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel the press of his lips against your skin, your skin feeling hot under their touch.

You feel him smirking against your neck before he cups you below your ass, effortlessly lifting you up off your feet. You couldn't help but giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carries you over to the couch, gently placing you down.

You shuffle back slightly until your back touches the armrest, making room for him to join you. He places his between your legs as he leans in, capturing your lips in another deep kiss. "Think I could help you out of these clothes, baby?" he murmurs against your lips, his hand finding its place on your hip, “I'm sure they're very uncomfortable.”

You laugh in response, placing a hand on his chest and gently pushing him back, eyeing him playfully. "You first," you tease, a smirk dancing on your lips as you nod towards him, “Go on.”

Arthur stands up, wasting no time in taking off his clothes until he's left only in his boxers as you eye him up and down taking in the sight of the gorgeous man in front of you. He’s quick to come and help you with yours, reaching for the waistband of your pants, along with your panties and sliding them off, his hands tracing over your thighs.

As he moves to remove your top, you wince, causing him to freeze in concern. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asks, his brow furrowing with worry as he searches your face for any signs of discomfort. You can't help but laugh at his reaction. "No, no," you reassure him, shaking your head. "I just forgot I had fashion tape on to keep my top in place."

He asks again, his voice filled with concern, "Are you sure you're fine?" You nod, "Yes, Arthur, I'm fine." With a seductive smile, you pull him closer by his shoulder, your eyes dark with lust. "Now come here," you whisper, "I forgot how much I enjoyed seeing you without your shirt on."

He chuckles, as you run your hand over his chest, tracing your fingers along his tattoos. He dips his body down to kiss the skin above your breasts, tenderly placing kisses on the red marks left behind by the tape. Moving lower, he takes one of your tits into his mouth, his lips wrapping around your hard nipple while his hand caresses your other breast. A moan escapes your lips at the sensation of his tongue, and your hands instinctively move to his hair, gently tugging as he groans in response.

He trails kisses down your body, each touch sending a sensation of electricity through you. You revel in the softness of his lips as he moves lower, his kisses tracing a tantalizing path over your skin. He works his way down to reach your inner thighs, gripping one of your thighs firmly, he carefully maneuvers it over his shoulder. His kisses grow more urgent as he inches closer to your needy core. Your skin tingles under his lips, the wetness between your thighs increasing with each teasing kiss.

His fingers dip into your folds, collecting your wetness, "You're already so wet for me, baby," he murmurs in a low voice, his voice thick with desire. You stifle a moan at his words, your breath catching at the look of lust in his eyes. "Fuck, Arthur," you breathe out, your voice laced with need, as he attaches his lips to your clit. His tongue explores your wet folds with a slow, gentle pace, driving you wild.

He starts sucking a little harder, eliciting a loud moan from you, and you feel him groan against your clit, the vibrations of his voice sending waves of pleasure through you. Your moans and groans only make Arthur increase his pace, and you shut your eyes, throwing your head back. The sensation of his finger dipping into you makes you gasp. You manage to open your eyes, finding him looking back at you with hooded eyes, the intensity in his gaze sending your heart into a frenzy.

You knew that Arthur was good with his mouth, but he never failed to surprise you each time, and you could feel yourself edging closer to your high. He continues to suck and stroke your clit until you finally feel your orgasm bubble up to the surface. You scream out his name as you reach your peak, your body trembling with pleasure, cumming into his mouth.

He cleans you up with his mouth as best he can before he pulls back, placing your leg back on the sofa. He supports his weight by placing his hands on either side of you, attaching his lips to your neck.

"I'm not done with you yet," he whispers against your neck, his eyes dark with desire as he gazes up at you. "You think you still have it in you for one more?" Your brain is still clouded from your recent high and you struggle to form coherent words, just nodding in response.

Arthur lets out a low, throaty laugh before crashing his lips against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He starts to take off his boxers, kicking them to the side and settles in between your legs, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

After a bit, he reluctantly pulls away from you, your lips chasing his as he makes his way to where he had flung his jeans. Rummaging through them, he finds his wallet, pulling out a foil packet. He quickly rips it open and slides it onto his already hard length before swiftly returning to you.

He slowly grabs your thighs, spreading them wider as he positions himself between them. He gives you a kiss on your jaw before he lines himself up, before he finally thrusts into you. “You ok baby?” he asks. You groan in response, managing to mumble out a breathy, "Yes, Arthur... fuck," reveling in the sensation of him filling you up. The pleasure evident on Arthur's face drives you wild, causing you to melt into the couch beneath you.

Arthur grabs your waist as he quickens his pace and his mouth finds its way to your chest again.

The sensation of his hands on your skin, his mouth on your chest, and feeling him deep inside you becomes almost overwhelming and you grip onto his biceps, your nails digging into his skin.

“God, Y/N, I love you so much,” he murmurs, his words sending your heart soaring, but the intensity of the moment consumes you. The pleasure courses through your body and you feel your orgasm approaching much quicker than before. You moan and arch into him, desperate for release.

Almost as if Arthur read your mind, he breathes out, "I’m so close, baby." You respond, your voice barely above a whisper, "Me too." He furrows his eyebrows, trying to hold on longer, wanting to make the moment last, but it becomes increasingly difficult when you're a gorgeous, moaning mess under him.

He feels your walls clench around his shaft as your orgasm washes over you, and you moan his name aloud. Arthur lets a groan before he spills inside of you with one last thrust. Collapsing on top of you, both of you slightly sweaty, he rests his forehead gently on yours as you both pant against each other.

Once you both get your breathing leveled out, you look at him, feeling his hand come up to softly caress your cheek. "Am I forgiven now?" he laughs as he asks you. You smile back at him, "I think I might consider it now," you reply, laughing softly.

"I love you, Arthur," you say softly, gazing into his eyes. A smile at you, warmth spreading over his handsome features before leaning in to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

As you're about to suggest that the two of you should go get cleaned up, you hear a knock on your door, your head whipping in the direction of the sound. "Hey, are you ready to go? We'll leave in a bit," you hear the voice of your bandmate peer through the closed door.

"Yeah, just us five more minutes, we'll meet you out front," you scream back, and you hear him reply with an "Okay" before his footsteps retreat.

Turning back to your boyfriend, you grin mischievously. "I should get mad at you more often," you tease.

But he looks at you deadpan and says, "No, please don’t,” and you both share a laugh. “I hate it when you're upset with me," he adds with a playful smirk before planting a quick peck on your lips and getting up.

He helps you to your feet and says, “Now let’s go celebrate you, baby,” before the two of you head off to get cleaned up and step out together.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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flowerhrt · 1 year

Text

crave | daisy jones.

pairing: daisy jones x fem!reader

summary: daisy looks back on her life and your relationship after finally getting to marry you.

warnings: mentions of overdose, alcohol consumption, mentions of a past addiction, niccolo argento (his name deserves a warning).

a/n: daisy is a lesbian but the reader's sexuality isn't specified. i used the dates and ages from the book.

word count: 2.3k

the clock read 2:48 am when daisy finished writing her new song. most people would think she was crazy for staying up all night the day after her wedding, but she had never been this inspired before.

daisy jones got married to her wife y/n l/n on july 17, 2015. a month after same-sex marriage was legalized across the united states and the same date which marked her 36 year anniversary of being clean. her life changed on that date in 1979, and she wanted to celebrate it by getting married that exact same day and month.

she never thought this was possible. being able to get married to the love of her life, coming out to the entire world, and most importantly, still being alive at 64 years old. she didn’t think she’d ever make it past 30.

“daisy, aren’t you tired? it’s almost 3 am.” the singer looked up from her place on the couch at the sound of her wife’s voice. my wife, she smiled at the thought.

“i’m fine, my angel. i just had to finish writing this idea for a song i’ve had stuck in my head all day.” she answered. “so you were thinking about music during our ceremony? ouch.” y/n said, placing a hand on her chest, feigning hurt.

“oh, stop it!” daisy couldn’t help but giggle at her wife’s words. “you know i didn’t mean it like that. i meant that you inspired me to write a new song. i know, this isn’t news to you, but i could write an entire song about you eating a damn sandwich. you’re my favorite person to write about.”

“what? i thought that was billy dunne.” daisy laughed at the statement, not before sticking out her tongue at her. that was one of the singer’s favorite things about y/n, the fact that even though both of them were well into their sixties, they still acted like two lovesick women in their twenties.

y/n stayed quiet for a little while after that, just lovingly staring at her. the intense but loving stare made daisy feel nervous, not in a bad way, of course. it made her feel the same knot in the stomach she felt when they met for the first time. it was love. she was feeling love.

“what is it?” she asked, her face beginning to flush the way it always does whenever her wife, the most beautiful person alive, according to the redhead, looks intensely at her.

“nothing” y/n answered. “it’s just that seeing you write at 3:00 am is taking me back to all those years ago.”

daisy let out a soft sigh at the memory of their first years together. when y/n would wake up in the middle of the night to find daisy sitting on the floor, guitar in hand, scribbling new lyrics she had just come up with. it was as if she had traveled back in time, after all, both of them have been in this situation lots of times, but she swore it felt as if they were back in the 70s again.

“well, to make you even more nostalgic, the song i wrote is about that. not about me ruining your sleep schedule, but about missing those times.” she slowly strummed her guitar. “is it okay if i sing it to you?”

her wife took a seat next to the singer and placed a red lock of hair behind daisy’s ear. “it is more than okay, unless it makes me cry, because if that’s the case… then it is not.”

daisy pecked y/n’s lips and answered with a quick “no promises!” before taking a deep breath and starting to sing.

i can’t wait to memorize this day

oh, a picture could not contain the way it feels

she smiled as she sang those lyrics. it’s true, she thinks. this is probably the happiest she has ever been, she used to believe people were faking it when they said their wedding day was the best day of their lives, but it turns out they were right. maybe the reason she didn’t believe it is because her last marriage was the worst period of her life.

sure, she married an italian prince. but was she happy? fuck no. she only did it to find a way out of the hole she dug for herself during the recording of aurora. when she wanted to feel special. when she was only drawn to niccolo argento because he was drawn to her. when her addiction was taking over her life. when she didn’t know it was fine to fall in love with women.

you say, "live in the present"

i'm already dreaming of how it begins

when she was little, she always dreamed of having a big wedding with a rich, respectful man. she used to think that was the only way she’d finally get her parents to be proud of her. it took a lot of therapy and self-acceptance for her to finally let go of that dream. she decided she was going to marry for herself and the woman she loved, not her parents.

the singer was so happy she couldn’t stop crying when it was announced she could finally get legally married to her long-term girlfriend. it may have taken over 30 years, but she was finally married to the love of her life.

and trying to savor the moment

but i know the feeling will come to an end

this is a problem daisy has always dealt with, being scared of people leaving and using her. she was a teenager the first time an older man dragged her into his room and made her have sex with him, he used her and then told her to leave. it’s a pattern she grew used to. get used and then abandoned. it was a shock when she met y/n and realized she actually cared about her, about what she thought, about what she had to say, about her music.

y/n always reassured her she would never leave, even when things got rough, she always stood by her side. daisy tried to self-sabotage herself several times, always thinking about how she wasn’t worth the love she was getting, but even through all of that, her wife never abandoned her. never used her. never judged her.

so i crave, crave to do it again, all again

crave, crave, to do it again

it was difficult, it really was. being part of the biggest band in the world and being a woman dating another woman was frightening. but looking back on it now, if she knew all that fear would turn into happiness and she’d end up marrying y/n, she would do it all over again.

just for a second it all felt simple

i'm already missing it

despite all of the fear, a part of her enjoyed the simplicity of their first years together. when they would meet up in hidden places to make out or when they would book hotel rooms adjacent to each other, just to end up sneaking in the middle of the night into the other’s room and sharing a bed. she misses the adrenaline of keeping their relationship a secret, of always having to come up with an excuse during interviews as to why she isn’t dating any famous man.

daisy couldn’t give less of shit about them. the thought of dating a man made her skin crawl. plus, she was dating the most perfect woman alive, how could they think she’d ever look at someone else?

so i crave, crave to do it again, all again.

daisy almost stopped singing at the sight of her wife in front of her. the singer could tell she was trying to fight back tears, she was about to put her guitar down but she knew y/n would get mad at her for stopping. she always tells her to “never stop singing, not even when you see me crying and being a mess. because i’ll cry more if you stop doing what you love.”

so she continued.

i romanticize even the worst of times

when all it took to make me cry was being alive

daisy hit rock bottom a year before meeting y/n. her life was a mess, her addiction kept getting worse, her ex-husband was a fucking douchebag who didn’t care if she overdosed while on tour, her parents didn’t give her a single thought, and she was trying to understand why she didn’t feel anything towards men but kept wanting the same type of relationship simone had with her girlfriend.

she wouldn’t go a day without crying or downing an entire bottle of alcohol. it was the worst time of her life, but for some reason she looks back on it fondly. her years of therapy, meditation and healing helped her realize she wouldn’t have the life she currently has if she hadn’t survived those times.

look up and see a reflection

of someone who never gave way to the pain

daisy looked around their house as she sang those lyrics. their home. it has some plants sitting in the living room, a few framed photos of the band, of her and simone, and of her and y/n placed around the walls. they made sure to leave some space for their wedding photos. she still couldn’t believe it. she lives in a beautiful home with her wife, and the world supports them. they don’t hate them or are repulsed by the thought of them being gay.

after all, the world could never hate daisy jones.

what if i told 'em that now that i'm older

there isn't a moment that i'd wanna change?

she thought she was going to break down crying halfway through their wedding ceremony. it’s fucking crazy how far life got her, she went from hiding her sexuality to inviting all of her friends to see them get married. the years have passed and they’re all old now, but the six and simone are still her best friends, seeing all of them together, celebrating their love, made her feel like the luckiest person alive.

now i crave, crave to do it again, all again

crave, crave to do it again

just for a second it, all felt simple

i'm already missing it

so i crave, crave to do it again, all again

y/n l/n and daisy jones came out in 1997. it was all over the news, they revealed they’ve been dating since 1977, making it 20 years of keeping their relationship a secret. the only ones who knew about it were their close friends and some of y/n’s family members. the couple were rumoured to just be best friends who live together, but the two of them got tired of having to hide from the world.

any second, feel the present

future and the past connecting

any second, feel the present

future and the past connecting

daisy closed her eyes as she remembered the day she first met her wife. it was 1977 and she was at simone’s after-show party, she had just recently come out as a lesbian to her best friend, and simone thought it would be nice to have her meet some new people. both her and y/n were closeted during that time, but that didn’t mean y/n wasn’t dating anyone previously. daisy noticed her from afar and thought she was the most breathtaking woman she had ever seen, something she still thinks to this day, and decided to walk up to her. she didn’t know if she was gay too, so she made sure to only make small talk with the girl.

they were talking about their favorite records when a random girl daisy had never seen before pulled y/n towards her. she saw them having an argument and how the girl kept touching y/n’s arm, something that would make y/n turn her head to see if anyone had noticed. they had a heated conversation until the girl decided to storm out and leave y/n alone.

when she got back to daisy and anxiously said “i know you saw us, it’s not what you think.” daisy made sure to make her feel better by saying “all i think is that you’re way too cool for that chick.. and i know a thing or two about not being with the right girl.”

in that moment, a small understanding passed between them. they only gave each other a small smile before continuing their conversation about music.

crave, crave to do it again, all again

crave, crave to do it again,

just for a second, it all felt simple

i'm already missing it

so i crave, crave to do it again, all again

daisy finished singing and rapidly put her guitar down to be able to give her wife a hug. she loved her so much, she was so thankful for her existence and life together. sometimes she still wonders what would’ve happened if she had never gone up to her that night in 1977.

daisy broke the hug and looked into her eyes. “i would tell you i love you so much” y/n started

“but…” daisy interrupted.

“but you made me cry and that’s not fair.” her wife continued. the singer playfully rolled her eyes at the sentence. “i did tell you i didn’t promise anything.” she argued.

“but fine, is there anything i can do to make you feel better?” daisy asked. y/n hummed and acted as if she was in deep thought before saying “a kiss from my wife would make anything better.”

daisy answered with a “who am i to say no to my favorite girl?”

and kissed her wife.

#daisy jones x reader #daisy jones imagine #daisy jones and the six x reader #daisy jones fluff #daisy jones angst #lesbian x reader #daisy jones #daisy jones and the six imagine

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sp1rit-realm · 6 months

Text

༻¨*:· 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓 ·:*¨༺

༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺ you hate remus lupin, and he hates you. what happens when you get stuck in a lift together?

༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 IOU!!!!! 𖦹 enemies to ?? 𖦹 fem!reader 𖦹 guys srry this is so short :< 𖦹 BUT biiiiig progress is about to be made in the next chapter 𖦹 also thank you all for waiting so so long for this. lobe u all <33 𖦹 i did not proofread this bc i'm lazy ⎝(ˊᗜˋ)⎠

𖦹 taglist form!!! (hopefully this one works ToT)

༻¨*:· word count ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 613

masterlist / breather << pt. 10 -- IOU >> wedding

༻¨*:· 𝐈𝐎𝐔 ·:*¨༺

"Happy one-month anniversary!" Remus walks up to you, and you look at him with a puzzled expression.

"Anniversary?"

"We've been friends for a month!" In his stretched-out hand is a flower. Your favorite kind.

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"They're my favorite flower," You sighed dreamily, staring at the vase in the hotel lobby.

"Yeah?" He asks with a flushed face—he's had a couple too many drinks.

"Yeah. There's something so beautiful about them. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"There doesn't need to be a reason," He slurs, "You can just love them because they're lovely."

"I suppose I can," You shrug.

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"I remember you said they were your favorite," He rubs the back of his neck, "And I wanted to celebrate."

"Thank you, Remus." You smile, and he blushes when your fingertips brush as you grab the flower.

"You see those two?" Sirius whispers to Harry, who intently watches him with big, green eyes, "They're friends now. For the past month, they've been friends. They even hung out once by themselves." Harry smiles and claps, squealing with joy. It catches your attention, and you walk over to the young baby.

"Oh, someone's happy," You coo, ruffing up his hair, "So smiley!" You pinch his cheeks.

"Stop trying to steal him from me!" Sirius whines.

"I'm not stealing him from you," You turn back to Harry, "I'm just showing him all the love he deserves," You tear up when he stares into your eyes. Just such a precious baby born from love and care. You hope it will be the same way when you have a baby. And then you realize that you're still young, and you have nobody to have a baby with, and you shouldn't be having these thoughts right now!

But then you look back into his eyes, and he giggles and reaches in your direction. He wants to be held. Sirius swoops him up before you can, "That's enough of that!" He sneers, "Harry is mine, not yours."

"He's actually mine." Lily smiles as she walks up to her boy. "Hello," She coos, "Who's the cutest in the world?" She asks, taking her child from Sirius's hands, "You are!" She boops him on the nose, and Harry giggles.

"You find that funny?" She asks, tapping his nose again. He giggles harder, and you swear he's the happiest baby in the entire world.

"He's cute, isn't he?"

The voice sends a shiver down your spine, "You scared me!" You playfully hit Remus on his shoulder.

"Sorry," He laughs, "Promise I didn't mean to."

"You're cruel, Lupin."

And he fears he's right back at the start. You're calling him Lupin—you haven't called him Lupin since… since your feud.

But then you smile at him, and he swears it's like the sun is shining in his face; he is blinded by your beauty, and he knows you're joking.

"Got you a little scared there, did I, Remus?"

"You say my name so nice." He breathes out.

"Remus," You test, and he sighs, "I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"I'm going to use my 'IOU,' okay?"

Remus nods, "Lay it on me."

"Will you be my date to Marly and Cas's wedding?"

"Uh..." Remus's hand goes to the back of his head, and as he scratches, he feels his heart explode. Yes, he will be your date for a wedding. He will be your date anywhere, anytime.

"It's okay if not," You scramble out, "I understand."

"No! No, I'll be your date," He smiles gently, "I'd love to be your date."

"Really?" You smile, and Remus swears you've illuminated the room.

"Of course."

"They are in love," Lily whispers to Harry, who nods importantly.

EEEEEKKKKKK

again, sorry this is so short, but i promise next one is going to have some big stuff!!!!!!!!!!!!!

taglist: @djlance-rock

#sp1rit realm #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x reader enemies to lovers #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin enemies to lovers #remus lupin series #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader fluff #༻¨*:· 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓 ·:*¨༺

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from-izzy · 2 months

Text

that's him, that's just who he is | tbz choi chanhee | new

"At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”

PAIRING » tbz choi chanhee (new) x gn!reader (proofread twice—lmk if i made a mistake!) TROPE/AU » friends 2 strangers, highschool au!, non-idol au!, idol au! (chanhee towards the end) GENRE » angsty angst angst, unread messages, comforting friendship, supporting friendship, you both attend the same music academy, you both are preparing to become celebrities/idols! WORD COUNT » 4168 (no seriously, 2k word limit who?) ESTIMATED READING TIME » 15 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » financial difficulties, stress relating to: money, music, balancing friendships-work-school, upwards comparisons, failure at achieving dream job (reader's side), unsupportive teachers

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

my third story! i take it back when i said that the second is my favourite story because this is my new (no pun intended) favourite story. i had to stop multiple times because it hit me too many times 🥹👍

well...the self insert is really real here 🫂 and this got seriously personal (let's see how many times i say this with this series 👀)

big respect to chanhee for balancing his education, preparing to be an idol and having a part time job 🫂 i respect him so much

thank you for reading honey bee ☘️🐝 @sanaxo-o and happiest birthday to you!! this story isn't much of a gift since you've read it before but there is the other one hehe 💕

Unlike most of your other lessons, this one passed by as quickly as a blink of an eye. It might be because the air conditioner in the room was set to the perfect temperature or the way the tie around your collar didn’t suffocate you too much or maybe, it was the way that you were practically showered with a bunch of compliments as soon as you took a deep breath from your diaphragm, lifted your cheekbones and sung your heart out.

Swiftly, you smile at the affirming nods that your teacher gave you, writing down her notes to the three-minute performance that you were assigned to for the last month. Across the whole month, you recall the way the tip of the pen scratches the plastic board vigorously, tapping rapidly and furiously throughout the longest three minutes of your life. Usually, you would be assigned a new song every three weeks or have two songs to practice for five weeks. On the times that you didn’t succeed, it would be a hell lot of criticism, tears and punches on the wall as soon as you exited the small studio. Heck, even with the times when the tears made it out in the room, you could tell that even though she toned down her volume, those eyes looked at you no further than disinterest—sometimes she would unmistakably roll her eyes too.

It has always been in short, sickening.

Those were the times that you wanted to just rip out your vocal cords, swear that you would never sing again, not that you even could at that point, and run away from the one thing that gave you life in your tiring days.

“Pick a song.”

The statement made your head slightly crane forward towards your suddenly easygoing teacher. You let out a confusing hum and question to which she responds with an amused smile.

“I can…choose?”

“You can’t truly be a singer if you don’t know what songs fit you best or if you need someone to pick what songs you should sing. You don’t have to choose a challenging song yet. You’ve been singing for the past half year and you’re good at it, but you really only found your style recently and I would rather you focus on further developing it.” She shrugs leisurely after, “It’s up to you though.”

Either way, I’m still going to get paid.

Numerous song titles juggle in your mind, the different lyrics and tunes playing in your head as the memories of your lives flash through their respective melodies. However, it wasn’t easy for your mouth to announce any of the songs, your mind thinking of all the technicalities within each song that would definitely challenge the fragile, insecure side of you.

But art is a special type of hobby.

It’s one of those hobbies that no one would ever be able to ‘perfect’. Somebody would always criticise and pick it apart ruthlessly—and you would always have to pick up their words and carry them deep within your heart.

“Are you sure?” The way that she tilts her head to the side after writing down your choice says everything.

But you stood your ground.

You’ve been in love with this song for so long and all you wanted to do was to learn it properly. Who knows when you’ll be given the chance to pick again? So, with the bravest smile and the most convincing nod that your shaking body could give, she does her final notes on that worn-out notebook of hers. She also recites your homework and expectations for the next lesson before excusing your presence from the room.

You couldn't wait to scream the excitement out of your body, tell your parents and your best friend about what just happened, analyse the song and its technical aspec—

"I just don't think you'll make it."

You halt your steps and your journey. For such a good music academy, these rooms seriously needed thicker walls. You were genuinely surprised that you were still able to focus on your lessons (most of the time) through all the electric guitar, drum kits and unfortunately, other singers who were unable to hit those certain high notes.

It's times like these that you wish the academy could invest in their building more. You were lucky that your lesson room is located at the end of the hallway meaning that your criticism could only be heard by you, the teacher and maybe the two rooms in front and beside yours.

Chanhee wasn't so fortunate, being at the very front, the first door on the left. It left him vulnerable. The voice cracks, the times when he would go off tune or the rare times when he missed his count. It would all mercilessly be heard by anyone who would pass by just to go to the toilet or refill their empty, cold coffee mug.

You stood next to the wall where the glass doors of the lesson door, biting your bottom lip and you noticed how Chanhee wouldn’t even say anything to his teacher’s words. You could imagine how he had his head hung low, nodding occasionally at the words and was forced to repeat the same line over and over and over again until he got it right. You prayed silently in your heart and mind that time would go quicker for him so that he could walk out, breathe in some fresh air and take a break from the suffocating practice room.

When the door clicks open, Chanhee has that tired, sad smile to you that he gives most of the time. Your eyebrows fell a little but you were still able to give him an encouraging one back.

“No?” You asked even though you very much knew the answer.

“No.” He quietly affirms after a short pause.

“I’m still proud of you though.” Just like any other day at school, after lessons or any other time, you lightly punch his shoulder, him chuckling and shoving you back. “I guess…that’s why they’re called ‘lessons’ after all.”

The realisation of your words made Chanhee groan. Lessons that are made throughout a lifetime—one that he has been attending for a year and a half unlike you who only started at the start of the year. He gave up his time with his friends, time to study which most of society thinks is the best way to secure a well-financed job, and gave up his money to buy clothes for himself that he just walked past whenever he knew he would get tempted. All those part-time jobs, ones that would go late into the still busy nights of Seoul or the ones early in the morning before school when most people would still be snoring, were all done with his dream that someday his voice would be heard by the world.

“How did yours go?”

You know that you should just be truthful. You both have been stuck to the hip for the last few years and Chanhee is not an easy person to deceive. Plus, you need to take into consideration as well of lying at this current moment. You didn’t want Chanhee to think that you were trying to make him feel better by potentially pitying him. What good would that bring to anyone right now in this situation? That’s not what friends do.

“I was given a chance to choose a song.” The small genuine, congratulatory smile that Chanhee gives makes you relax your back into the wall further, the tension easing away from your body. “I also managed to get through that vocal run that I’ve been agonising and crying to you about for the past week.” You slump your body against the wall as you recall your homework, “But she gave me more scales to use as runs for practice.”

“Scales really do suck.” Chanhee whispers to you teasingly, once again getting pushed by you.

“Yeah.” You acknowledge shortly after. “But it does help me with my breathing and flexibility which I highly suck at.”

“Hey,” he scolds your words lightly, “at least you have a distinctive sound and know how to put emotions according to the sound. My teacher just said I sound generic.”

Yes. That description for Chanhee—no, just any singer—is weird and you would dare to say, highly misleading.

If we’re talking about musical terms, every single singer has a unique timbre. Even if the note stays the same, every person will have a different tone colour because well, every person is different. Saying that a singer has a generic voice, highly contradicts the definite concept of instrument timbre.

You know how much this troubled Chanhee even though he tries his best to hide it. The comments about his timbre have been repeated so many times that it’s got to him a lot. In the beginning, he would just smile bitterly and indicate that he wouldn’t want to talk about the lesson, kicking the group of stones on the pathway to release his anger. However, as you both grew closer after an assigned duet performance, he was able to open up to you little by little, slowly but surely, keeping the friendship that grew even after you did your ending bow to the audience. He would still hide a little bit of his feelings to himself, embarrassed that he would talk about himself even though you reassured him that it was completely fine.

To him, how others see him is the most important thing for him. From the compliments that would grow the contagious smile on his face, to the heartbreaking crying scenes that he would hide from the rest of the world, all those words he took to heart so that he could improve himself as a person—and in this case, as an artist. In this harsh world, the words that would be spat out by teachers would be so deeply etched in a person’s heart that all of a sudden, giving up everything that they have worked so hard for would be easier done.

It’s during those times that you and Chanhee would lean on each other, reassuring each other not to run away from the weekly lessons and giving comfort after each one. Chanhee is internally grateful for the times that you would hold his shoulders, lightly shaking his frail, tired body before giving him words of encouragement. He would do a similar thing for you when you feel like you didn’t progress, stopping your self-criticism and pushing you to keep going. To you, he would just let you cry on his shoulder as you hug him tight, patting your back calmingly.

The light snowing season greets the both of you as soon as you exit the building. For you, your next destination is home but for Chanhee, ninety-eight percent of the time it would be his job at the barbeque restaurant, the seafood restaurant or even that new Chinese restaurant that he recently just started.

Given the good results of your lesson, you selfishly wanted to have some fun but the words died down in your throat when you slightly turned your head towards your friend. His black hair still peaked out from the beanie that kept both of his ears warm, the scarf that you gifted him hid the slight downturn of his lips and the physical expression of his heavy heart. His eyelashes fluttered away the snowflakes in the cold but still bright night and his rosy cheeks only grew brighter and more evident the slower the journey to your next destination would take.

“Just a little penguin in his somewhat natural habitat?” Your attempt to get a response out from him is successful when you see his cheekbones rise—the same way that they would rise whenever he sings his heart out.

“What a way to start a conversation.”

Your heart lightens at your successful attempt, linking your right arm with his as you continue to walk down the still-shared path that makes the distance between all your worries and yourself further away. However, like all journeys, you finally arrive at that one spot.

The one that split into two different roads, unlike the one you have been walking a few minutes ago.

The right road would take you both to safety, warmth and relaxation.

The left road would force you to unlink Chanhee’s arm, sending him to the busy, loud civilisation where he would put on his apron and raise the pitch of his voice fit for customer service.

“Are you…off to work?” He senses the sadness lingering in your voice and the way your right hand tightens around his forearm even through the thick, winter clothes.

“…yeah.”

“I see.” You managed to muster a stable response tone. “Come on, I’ll drop you there.” You turn your body towards the crowd but can’t go too far due to the other set of feet that stays grounded on the worn-down, cold stone floor, “Chanhee?”

“Maybe…” Suddenly, the sky starts to sprinkle down its pretty shapes of ice. “I’m just not meant to be a singer.”

You gasp quietly, the faint white exhale slowly disappearing behind the dark background. Seeing the tears finally slide down his cheeks made you realise one thing: he’s opening up. He’s doing the thing that he has tried to hide from everyone. In tune with his emotions, your eyes started to build their layer of moisture, the wind making it harder for you to keep your tears in. You couldn’t think straight, your free arm wiping your eyes to rid the hardships from your face while trying to give Chanhee words of encouragement.

“You’re going to get ther—”

“What if you had to give up so much,” He cut you off, gasping and inhaling more air to accommodate his crying, “earn so much money, gave it away and it didn’t give you good results? Whatever it may be…An event, a trip, an investment.” His voice gradually trails off as he lists life occurrences.

You’ve thought about the same thing thousands of times, back and forth, no matter where, when and who you were with. In a world where pursuing art can be a hard, long path, what would happen if nothing good were to come out of it? All your hard work, all your money, all your time…you’ll never be able to get those back.

Is it worth it? Is it worth the gamble?

“I would probably beat myself over it.” You tried to keep your whimpers at bay as you confessed the same answer that would come back every time you went on your downward spiral, “I would most probably always question why I did what I did. If I did the event with someone, and for some reason, they were the ones that made the situation bad, then I would’ve gone back and forth, asking myself if it was worth it. Why didn’t I go alone? Why was I so scared? What was I so scared of?”

Should you move to a different academy? But your teacher is well known. Should you still do it anyway? Knowing that you had to go through many processes and hardships to even get lessons with this teacher. Even if most of the time, you felt like giving up music, surely her experience would lead you to someplace good…right?

“But then…would answering those questions lead to happiness?” Chanhee scoffs at his absurd thoughts. Tilting his head to the sky, he relishes the way the snowflakes land on his pale skin, disappearing when they touch his skin, the side branches melting into his warmth. “Even after answering the question, would you be able to know what to do next? What would it lead to?”

Even though Chanhee was the first one to cry and break down, your wails were louder the more his words resonated within you, touching the parts of your heart that you never wanted to say out loud, scared of where and how your unconscious mind would take you. With everything in him, he untangles his arms to wrap them around your neck, patting the back of your head as you cry on his shoulder. He also lets his tears soak your scarf, resting his cheek on his arm and his chapped wavering lips rubbing against the delicate wool of your scarf, trying his best to soften his cries.

“I just…” One of his hands pats your back, giving you his comfort—even though he probably needed it more than you, “Music and singing used to be happiness that could fit in my pocket. It felt secure and safe. I could just put on my earphones and I’ll feel happy.” You notice the tighter hold after, “But music grew too fast and too big for me that I couldn’t catch up with it anymore.”

You only nod to his words, knowing how much Chanhee sacrificed to pay for his lessons. Some judged him, calling him stuck up and selfish even though they knew that he was independent in his journey to become a singer. It pains you to hear those words come out as scoffs and laughter and soon enough, you hold his hand and cut ties with them all, leaving their flabbergasted faces behind.

The sky starts to cry with you both beautifully in the form of its unique icy shapes. You both watch the snowflakes disappear on the ground, on each other clothing, on your noses. Finding the strength and breath to continue, you slowly push your body away, wiping the last bit of your tears to face your best friend straight into his eyes.

“You’re going to find happiness that you can rely on, Chanhee.” You couldn’t see his lips but you were sure that it was pouting and shivering, “It may be music or it may be something that music brings you. It may be the stage or maybe people who you will come to work with or maybe the people who will cheer you on but I’m sure you’ll find it soon.”

Even with the bustling environment around you both, there was no way that you could have missed his muttering, especially with the white puff of air, “At this rate…”

He feels the weight and pressure of your palms on both his shoulders but he still looks down to the ground where the snow slowly buries the sides of his shoes, “I promise you that if you keep going, I don’t have a single doubt that you’ll find your style. Regardless of what your crappy teacher says, you’re unique and I love your voice.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Wiping the lone tear on his cheek, “The world is going to be amazed when they hear your voice and I'm sure you'll be a good influence to them.”

For the first time in the day, Chanhee finally smiled. You observe the way his eyes disappear into pretty little upside-down moons. His head tilts back slightly, revealing the upturned corner of his lips behind the scarf that kept him warm and his teeth shine brighter with the help of the light from the marketplace behind you. Your hands were able to finally relax and mirrored the same expression back to your now radiant friend.

“Promise me that we’ll stand on the same stage someday.”

But life plays a twisted fate on you both and loves to put more pressure than you can ever carry. Having to move to a different school and a different region is not on your list of expectations. You argued endlessly about the decision to move, feeling unfair that none of your opinions mattered to them as they relentlessly started to look for moving trucks to hire. With the good offer that your dad received and realising that the youngest in the family had no final say, you tried your best to hold back the tears when telling Chanhee the news.

He cries for you and himself, already imagining the loneliness of walking to the music academy after a long day of school and the drags of his feet across the gravel in the night after each lesson. You assured him that you would call often and unlike you, he promised you the same thing. Time told you both that your friendship was still strong despite the physical distance between you both and with time, so did both your musical skills.

The trade-off for talent in your friendship is the less frequent phone calls and text messages. It was decreasing steadily and slowly until eventually, there was no more red dot beside his name on your phone even though you're sure there would be one beside your name on his. When sadness turned into confusion, then morphed into anger, hate and bitterness whenever someone asked you about him, you still found yourself swiping through your many photos with him. Just like how he cries on your last day, you cry from the silence of him.

Thankfully, time did heal your heart even though you couldn’t find a friend like him ever again. Things have changed for you and you were sure that it was the same for Chanhee. You grew taller, changed your hairstyle, hobbies, dreams and aspirations. What time didn’t seem to change however was the delivered sign that never changed with your messages. You let it go and went on with your life.

When you did come back to Seoul, you realised that the city had changed drastically. You wondered if it’s really that or if you were just struggling to remember the city that you once walked around in every day. But unlike your thoughts, maybe Seoul did change drastically. Amid the new but still bustling environment, there was this one cafe that was incredibly packed. Needing to get away from the cold, you entered to be greeted with a well-decorated interior and the gold ‘Happy Birthday New’ balloon shines brightly, especially with the light that is right above it. Many were posing in front of the gold foil fringe backdrop.

You almost didn’t recognise the boy in the picture. You don’t remember when you took your scarf off and picked up a random framed picture in the frame before picking up another one next to it, and another one, and another one. Each showed his growth. You could tell not only from his appearance but also from the bigger stage that he performed along with ten other boys. Suddenly, it clicks and it all makes sense. Hearing everyone else around you talk about him fondly took away the heavy weight that his name brought and a new feeling overtook your heart.

For the first time in a very long time, seeing his face made you smile and it didn’t hurt.

Your phone slides into your shaking hands, swipe open the camera app from the lock screen and point it at the framed picture in your hand, “At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”

You know from the laughter in the space, the feeling of the radiant energy of those around you and the happiness on people’s faces as they point their cameras to their fanmade goods and the interior of the place, that Choi Chanhee has done it. The stage looked extremely good on him, even if the light was too bright and he looked so pale sometimes.

“I’m glad it was you.”

You whisper somewhat solemnly and with a bit of jealousy. Your clenched fist is a puny attempt in trying to keep your tears from expressing the hurt that suddenly hit you as you recall that moment in your life. The multiple rejections to the companies that you auditioned for, the way people on the streets pass by more frequently as their ears and eyes are focused on other’s performances—the night where you listed all your musical instruments for sale and promised that you would never sing ever again.

“You shy, talented, loveable penguin.” And it would seem that his fans agree with the chosen animal with the pouting blue penguin on top of his head. “That’s just who you are, Chanhee.”

Maybe the fame wasn’t for you. Shortly after moving, you found out that the stage was more of a hobby, especially with how you just wanted to stand on stage but never wanted to practise and study music theory properly. You just wanted to shout out the lyrics and sentimentally sing the lyrics of existing songs instead of having your name in an album or next to the credits and royalty rights to the song. But knowing that it fit Chanhee well, it was more than enough for you. He may not have known it before but you wish with all your being that he knows his capability to make others smile, including you.

Even if your broken smile is within millions that he probably would never see from the podium that rightfully held him high.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...' tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿@sanaxo-o @astrae4

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desswright29 · 9 months

Text

The Golden Stairs

Pairing: Shuri X Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Contains: Fluff (hella fluffy), Some angst, and Smut, romantic proposal 🥰, Shuri is in looove!

A/n: I wrote and deleted this several times over the past month. This story stomped me in my chest, grabbed me by my hair and banged my head against the wall! But I wrote it cause I love y’all.

Please enjoy! 😄

Y/n pov

My heart rate increased as I sat in the car releasing short and quick puffs of air to control my erratic breathing. Palms sweaty and limbs shaking, I glanced into the side mirror to see if my eyes had deceived me. They had not. There she stood in all of her regality, stuck in the center of the sidewalk, hands intertwined infront of her body as she stared into space. She rocked a low cut now, making her look attractively mature; and the black and white suit did her all the more justice. Even with all of that, she looked lost. I pulled my eyes from the mirror as they began to burn from the tears threatening to fall. Why was she here? Why today of all days, would she show up! Ofcourse she would, It was classic Shuri to show up and shift my atmosphere on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. No! It is indeed the happiest day of my life! I won’t allow her to get inside of my head. I get a handle on my breathing, remembering how Shuri destroyed me. Destroyed us! I’ve moved on and I’m receiving the love I deserve. So, fuck her!

“Baby.” A soft baritone called from the drivers side of the car, releasing me from my mental torment. A tear involuntarily escaped my eye as I turned to look at my new husband, plastering on the best smile I could muster. “You ok? What’s going on Peaches?” The concern etched onto his face while he comfortingly gripped my hand, caused a slight ache in my chest. He was always so good to me, so patient. How dare I still care for Shuri. “Of course! I’m just overwhelmed my love. This has been such a beautiful day. I can’t believe we’re married now! We made it Mike!” I laugh wiping away the tears that fell for her, trying to lighten the mood as I attempted to push the thoughts of her away. Don’t mistake my shock for unhappiness with my situation. Michael has been nothing short of amazing from the moment he began to pursue me. He consistently handled my heart with care, and gave me grace from the side effects of the trauma my relationship with Shuri had caused. He loved me whole, and never left room for doubt. Still, seeing Shuri after so long, brought long forgotten emotions back to the forefront. Now, I can’t help but think about how this should’ve been us.

—————————————————————————

3 years Ago

No matter how often you’d been granted access into Wakanda, your mind could never quite comprehend the magnitude of its beauty. Your eyes were bright with wonder as you watched the towering buildings of Capital City twinkle in the night sky. They whisked by as you were driven through the city streets in the Royal Rolls Royce. To think that this country was a testament to the inconceivable intellect of your woman always baffled you. The thought of her belonging to you made you swell with pride.

It had been two years and 5 months since she’d placed her heart on her sleeve for you in the parking lot of a club. Likely one of her lowest moments, but she’d put her pride aside to fight for you. Baring her soul, making promises of placing the world at your feet. Fittingly, you were skeptical after all that had transpired. So you made her work for your time and effort. Putting pressure on her that could build warriors. Every grand gesture was met with push back, every slick word, met with skepticism and rebuttal. If she was going to have you, It was going to be pure and honest. All of the requisite steps to protecting your heart had been taken. You kept it up until you eventually broke her.

After months of her pouring her all into the extended apology, you both lie side by side on a plush blanket; one completely disconnected from the other. A navy gradient was the backdrop for a full moon; the night sky so clear you could almost see every crater. You both stared up into a blanket of star’s, as the vodka clear lake shimmered, luminescent in the moons glow. A picnic basket filled with all of your favorites seperated the two of you, along with flowers Shuri had hand picked herself. Fairy lights hung from the trees surrounding you, rose petals spread sporadically across the blanket while four lanterns illuminated each corner.

Another perfectly planed date was coming to an end. Shuri made sure to cross every T and dot every I, and still you showed minimal interest. Hardly engaging in conversation, Nitpicking the food and quite frankly you seemed bothered to be around her. Quiet. The crickets chirped, and the water was still. Staggered breathing, and a sniffle caught your attention; and you turn to look at Shuri just in time to catch the moonlight highlight the lone tear falling down her cheek into her ear. Jaw clenching and trembling as she swallowed, trying to hold back a sob. God! She even made crying look glorious.

“What are we doing?” Her voice trembled and broke, betraying her strong front. She didn’t make a move to look in your direction. “Well, I’m just waiting on you to take me ho-“ Shuri cut you off, sitting up abruptly. “Stop! Stop it y/n!” Her voice raised in a desperate plea. “I c-can’t keep doing this.” Her hands shot up to her uniformed curls, pushing them back from her forehead in a frenzy, as though she couldn’t stand the feel of them against her skin. Her anxiety in the moment causing sensory issues. “I understand I hurt you, but you said you’d give me a fair chance, baby y-you don’t seem to want this. Ndiyakuthanda, ngako konke endinako (I love you, with all I have). Giving so much of myself and watching you not want it. Is killing me.”

“Shuri-“

“Wait.” She released a shaky breath “I’m giving it my all uthando (love), It would tear me to peices to watch you walk away, but I’m doing the work. I need to know will it ever be enough.” Now sitting up, you stared out at the water, tears running down your cheeks. “This.. this is all so perfect Shuri. This date and every other one you put effort into. All of the gifts were well thought out. Nothing gaudy or over the top. You’ve been perfection. What I’m saying is, I see your effort, I see the changes in you, I’ve appreciated and enjoyed every single moment we’ve spent together. But, I’m so scared Shuri. So afraid of the love I have for you. It’s all consuming. I look into those eyes Shuri and I want to melt into you. I want to let go of the fear and breathe you in, bask in this feeling of being loved carefully, and protectively. But every single fucking time there’s this feeling of impending doom.” You look straight into her eyes, wanting to make your next point exceedingly clear. “I can’t allow you to believe that it would ever be ok for you to treat me the way you did before. If you want me, I want it to be only me Shuri. Don’t play games with my heart.” Shuri’s head began to shake fervently side to side.

“I wish I’d never been so careless with your heart intombi eswiti (sweet girl). It took some time to recognize my mistakes. To see past my own selfishness, but I would give up everything if it meant I could finally call you mine officially. I’d give the air from my lungs for that honor. Only if it’s what you want too. I could allow you to walk away right now, if that is what would make you happy. However, I’d always be waiting for you. You placed the love back into my heart and then you took it as your own. I belong to you. So, I’m begging you y/n. Be with me. I want the chance to cherish you as my woman. I want to take my time with your heart. Continue learning to give you the love I know that you want and deserve from me. My ego has long been placed aside sthandwa. I love you y/n.”

You’d pulled your legs into your chest, hugging your shins, and sobbing into your knees. Shuri moved in front of you, sitting legs spreading excepting you inbetween them, she grabbed both sides of your face, pulling your head up to face her. Both of your eyes were swollen and red, wet and dry tears coating your faces. “I love you, I love you, I love you” She repeated, you could hear her heart pour from her voice as she stared into your deep brown irises. You finally break falling into her arms. She held you in her arms, pressing your head against her chest. She rocked you like a baby as she continued to reassure you. Kissing your forehead, speaking words of affirmation as you cried together. That night you would officially become hers. Mind, Body, and Soul.

————————————————————————

It’d been two years to the day, and Shuri had kept her word; becoming all you could have asked for and things you could have never imagined. With you by her side she’d become the most noted ruler of Wakanda. Yes, Ofcourse with the worlds obsession with attractiveness, the whispers around the world began from Shuri’s first live press conference in America. It was said that Wakanda had the most beautiful, androgynous Queen anyone had ever seen; who had a swagger that could bring any man or woman to their knees. But then, Shuri consistently began breaking through ceilings of limitations people placed upon her.

Politicians saw her and expected some young suave, conceited, scientist that however intelligent, was unfit to rule. It was an easy and popular consensus. However, She was not only intelligent, she was the smatest person in the world, She spoke with the power and authority of Romanda, She was strong, compassionate, and open minded as T’challa had been, But cross her or her people and she could easily summon her inner N’jadaka. Anyone who had ever doubted her felt regret every moment of her reign as Queen. She OOZED power. But she had a weakness.

You quickly rose to fame. Becoming a Queen in your own right, having a work ethic like no one had ever seen. Being a genius level engineer had worked in your favor in the industry. Not only were you surpassing all other artist in lyricism and vocal ability; Your shows were a site to behold. You and Shuri created the most elaborate sets, and people lined up for miles to witness your greatness. People had tried to account your success with your connection to the Queen, until it became apparent that your talent was undeniable. Your life with Shuri was what dreams where made of. Wakanda loved and excepted you as though you were their own. You created peace for Shuri, creating a calm joy in her that she never believed she would have again. She was grounded by you. The sound of your voice, your innocent smile, hell just the mention of your name brought an uncontainable smile to her face. Your relationship with Shuri became the embodiment of what love should be.

The car coming to a stop jarred you out of your thoughts. As your driver exited the car, you reach for your purse pulling out your compact mirror to check your make up. It was perfection, courtesy of Shuri. You’d flown into Wakanda this morning after celebrating the last show of your 6 month tour with your crew. She hadn’t been able to make the show which wasn’t a rare occurrence for either of you with both of your demanding schedules, but you both always made it up to one another. This time you were pretty sure that Shuri was planning something unecessarily extravagant for your anniversary so you were a bit more understanding than usual. You had been correct. As soon as you’d landed you were greeted with staff whisking you off to a day of pampering. Nakia, and Aneka accompanied you.

There was brunch, massages, mani’s and pedi’s and you decided to get your natural hair in a wash and go. You’d come back home hoping to finally see Shuri but were met with a beautiful nude gown that was covered in Swarovski crystals and had a split traveling all the way up your thigh to the hip. There was a full glam squad waiting on you and you were told you’d be meeting Shuri at a recently opened restaurant in the inner city. As always Shuri had gone above and beyond! You shut your mirror placing it back into your bag and adjust your dress.

The door to the car was opened and you gracefully place your heeled foot onto the pavement below you to exit the car. An unexpected gasp came from your throat as you take in your surroundings. In front of you was the most magnificent grand staircase that appeared to be made of solid gold and vibranium. Various cultural symbols from Wakanda were carved into them. At the bottom of the stairs, Two men in traditional Wakandan garb from the golden tribe waited with single white roses with golden stems.

The driver offered you his arm, and you took it still wide eyed, at the beautifully unique staircase. You met the two men at the bottom of the stairs. The driver released you and stepped back with a slight nod, signaling the men to take over, as he walked away. The men handed you the roses. “Good evening, Ms. Y/l/n” They both say. One offered you his arm while the other stepped behind holding your small train. As you stepped forward onto the first stair, the symbols on the stairs glowed white revealing the symbols were placed strategically, ultimately creating a large portrait of 2 Queens face to face. Violins began to swell, as a holographic wall appears infront of you.

If I Ain’t Got you. Written by Shuri Udaku

Appeared on the wall in front of you as you continued up the steps. It disappeared only to be replaced with a photo of you and Shuri. You immediately giggle at the memory. It was the first official picture taken of you both as a couple. Courtesy of Nakia. You’d spent all night christening your new relationship, and she thought it’d be funny to snap a picture of your irritated faces as she burst in on your “honeymoon” the next morning. You and Shuri’s face both mirrored irritatation, as you sat snuggled into her lap with a blanket covering you both. Various pictures continued to scroll into the night sky with each step you took. Your heart rate was slowly increasing as piano now began to accompany the violins as you ascended the stairs.

At the height of the stairs, your breath catches in your throat and your eyes glass over. “No way this is happening” A large fountain spreads across the massive courtyard of a white and gold building, water jutted out like geysers on both sides of a glass pathway through the center of the pool. The walkway illuminated by lighting, different shades of white and purple, which happened to be yours and Shuri’s favorite color. As breathtaking as the sight was, it paled in comparison to the view of your friends and family surrounding the marble courtyard. Seated on either side of the pool there was a full orchestra, and lines of people waiting for you with white roses with golden stems. Your eyes brimmed with tears.

A voice rang out, causing you to look ahead that’s when you finally noticed Alicia freaking Keys sitting at a piano in the front of the fountain. The lyrics of the song appeared above her like subtitles as she sang. Your friends and family began to walk up to you each handing you a rose smiling from ear to ear. Giving little comments like “You’re so beautiful” or “Get it girl”. Some were already in tears.

Some people live for the fortune

Some people live just for the fame

Some people live for the power, yeah

Some people live just to play the game

Some people think

That the physical things

Define what's within

And I've been there before

That life's a bore

So full of the superficial

Listening to the lyrics your girlfriend wrote, your heart swelled. You almost stopped paying attention to the people handing you flowers, until at the end of the lines of people you see your mother and your sister practically beaming at you. As soon as you see them you let out a soft sob slightly bending at the waist. Your sister ran up to you. Grabbing you into a hug. She pulled tissues from her bag and gently dabbed your eyes. “You look so beautiful sister, don’t mess up your beautiful make up before she see’s you.” She says with a tear escaping her own eye. Your mother reached you both, face beaming with pride as she grabbed your hand squeezing. “Mommy! Dani! H-how?”

“She’s been planning this since you went on tour. Well she got us involved at that point, but something tells me she’s been planning this day from the moment you said yes to being her girlfriend.” Your mother stated gesturing in amazement at the everything Shuri had put together. Her and your sister share an amused chuckle. “How did everyone get here? I was just with my crew before I got on my flight.” You were amazed and confused. “She sent jets Ofcourse” Your sister rolled her eyes and laughed at how casually she was able to say that. Shuri had sent 15 jets to locations only disclosed to the people you held closest to your heart. That would be family, best friends, and your main crew from work that was always with you. She’d made sure they were greeted by her and comfortably housed for their stay. The things your love was capable of. “Come on” She said grabbing your arm as your mother grabbed the other. “Pay attention” She says, as they walk you to the edge of the fountain to continue watching Alicia perform with the orchestra and pictures of you and Shuri continue to appear.

Some people search for a fountain

Promises forever young

Some people need three dozen roses

And that's the only way to prove you love them

Hand me the world on a silver platter

And what good would it be

With no one to share, with no one who truly cares for me

Some people want it all

But I don't want nothing at all

If it ain't you, baby

If I ain't got you, baby

Some people want diamond rings

Some just want everything

But everything means nothing

If I ain't got you, you, you

Your head lay on your mothers shoulder as your sister continuously dabs at your eyes, and checks your makeup. The doors to the building opened and twelve Dora file out six heading right and six heading left in single file lines. Once they get in position they faced center. And then there she was. Shuri. Okoye to the left of her and Nakia to the right of her. Your eyes immediately connect with hers as the music began to swell. Shuri began walking towards the other end of the path as the Dora threw their arms across their chest in salute as she walked past. She was stunning in a simple black suit tailored to perfection with a diamond harness, and her heeled boots. You loved when Shuri wore heels. Your sister squeezed your arm, and you lifted your head to look at her, she took your flowers, and they both looked at you eyes watering smiles setting their faces aglow. “Go on, baby. Go get your woman.” Your mother says. You smile, turning seeing that Shuri was standing at the end of the pathway waiting for you. You take a deep breath, and step onto the glass as Shuri does the same. Swallowing, you walk toward the love of your life, your gorgeous gown flowing behind you, as water shot into the sky beside you with each step you both took.

If I ain't got you with me, baby, oh, ooh

Said nothing in this whole wide world don't mean a thing

If I ain't got you with me, baby

You now stood face to face with Shuri. Your body shaking with anticipation. Nerves getting the best of you already. Her eyes were glassed over already holding back tears. She let out a deep calming breath grabbing both of your hands.

“Molo mntu omhle (Hello Beautiful)” Her voice echoed throughout the area so that everyone could hear. You offer her a soft smile as you let out a wet exhale. Her eyes sparkled as she looked down into your eyes. “I’m sure you’ve gathered what is happening by now.” She smiles, and giggles were heard around the yard. “ I was inside the building kind of panicking, because I wanted to do this from the heart.” She let go of one of your hands placing her right hand over her heart. “So I didn’t write anything and my mind was going blank in there because I’m nervous as hell!” More laughter erupted as you let out a chuckle. She grabs your hand again.

“I knew though, that once I was in your presence, everything I needed to say would come rushing at me. You’ve always had that effect on me. In my position I have to always be strong, logical, unemotional. But with you I’m just Shuri. To everyone else I’m The Black Panther, and to you I’m just Kitty.” She shakes her head at everyone’s laughter. “I can’t believe I said that outloud. When I met you, I was searching for something, little did I know it was someone. The girl of my dreams. The one who would unapologetically give all of her love to me. You stood beside me as a friend, and I knew that I could always depend on you, that anything life threw at me you’d be there beside me. You’ve been my strength when I wanted to give in. I could spend a lifetime showing you how special you are to me. You made it easy for me in the loneliest times of my life. I knew the moment I saw you dance I wanted to marry you. Cause damn.”

She bit her lip grinning and nodding to herself. You softly hit her arm. “Move it along perv.” You say as laughter filled the area. “But really, everything about you seemed so familiar to me. The feel of your hands, the way you felt in my arms. If I could go back in time, I’d tell you thank you. Let you know your as beautiful now as you were then. Hold your hands just like I’m doing now. The same hands I’ll hold in front of a minister, the same hands that’ll carry my son and his sister. I’d thank you for the first kiss in three weeks, for when we make love in six weeks. For the ring you’d wear proudly 3 years from then. For when you say I do in fall and for those beautiful children of ours. I know it would sound strange because we would have just met. But I’d be thanking you in advance.” There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. At this point you were trying not to hyperventilate.

Shuri with her own tears streaming down her face, licked her lips and let out a puff of air before continuing “We’ve been through so much intombi yam (my girl) we’ve laughed, like when you had that show in Georgia and as we left the arena someone in traffic was playing “wipe me down” and you climbed on the roof of our moving car just in time to yell” Everybody in the crowd yells it out as Shuri says it “B.O.O.S.I.E B.A.D.A.Z.Z THATS ME!” The crowd was roaring as you did a little twerk as they sang. Shuri threw her head back laughing. Everyone had saw that video, it went viral and was on every news station across the world. “You pissed Okoye off that day. But that’s what I love about you. You’re fearless and nobody makes me laugh like you. We’ve cried. In the beginning I didn’t go about us in the best way. And I’ll spend the rest of our lives making that up to you, if you’ll have me.” She got down on one knee, and you let out choked sobs. “As Queen and Black Panther. I kneel to no one. But today and forever after I kneel to you humbly. Y/f/n will you do me the honor of being my lifetime partner, my wife, my Queen.” She pulled out a box opening it to reveal one large oval diamond with a vibranium band with clustered diamonds. You were absolutely speechless. All you could manage was a breathless “yes” as you nodded.

Shuri smiled big sliding the ring onto your finger before standing and scooping you into her arms, holding you by your waist as you grabbed her face placing kisses all over before finally connecting your lips as she spun you in circles. Fireworks started to go off as you heard “ Happily Ever After” by Case began to play in the back ground. That was one of your favorite songs. You pull back looking into her eyes. “I’m so in love with you”

“I hope so fiancé.” she says as she finally placed you on your feet. As soon as she placed you on your feet your mom and your sister rushed you. “Let me see the ring!!“ your sister yells. You proudly hold out your hand as you guys scream and jump around together “OH MY GOD that is beautiful sister! You did your big one with this one sis! Big Panther not the lil one!” She said turning towards Shuri and hugging her. Shuri stepped back and popped her lapel “Well you know” You all share a laugh as your mom pops your sisters arm. “Danielle act like you got some sense!” Your mom says as she hugs you. “I’m so happy for you y/n. You seem to be in wonderful hands.” She turns to Shuri giving her a hug. “Thank you for loving my daughter the way you do. I’m so happy to welcome you as my bonus daughter. You’ve got plenty of family now, so visit as often as you can.” Shuri teared up a bit more going in for another hug with your mother. “Of course we will. You won’t be able to get rid of me”

Nakia, Okoye, Aneka, and Ayo all come up and embrace you giving you congrats and gawking at the ring. Nakia pulls you to the side, holding your hand as Shuri and M’Baku teased one another. “Thank you y/n for loving her the way you do.” You gave a soft smile. “I don’t have a regret in the world Nakia.” She steps up and engulfs you in a long embrace.

————————————————————————

The rest of the night was filled with drinking, laughter, music, dancing, pictures and congratulations. You and Shuri had finally entered the sanctity of your second home. Both of you heading straight toward the bedroom upon entering your home. Entering the bedroom you’re surprised once again to see that Shuri had had it decorated for the night while you both were out. Candles lit up the room, with rose petals and balloons. There was a large assortment of fruit with whipped cream, honey, and chocolate sauce lined across the top of the tray, and a bottle of champagne with two glasses, sitting at the center of the bed. “Baby I can’t cry anymore tonight. I’m going to turn into a puddle.” You’d already started crying. She walked up to you pressing her body against yours, placing a soft kiss to your lips “Nwabela usuku lwakho owaqala ngalo iqabane” (happy anniversary fiancé).

“Happy Anniversary sweet lady” You bite your lip as Shuri bit hers smiling and blushing. She began helping you out of your dress and you both collapsed onto the bed. Shuri sat up straight on the headboard as you straddled her lap nuzzling your head into her neck, nothing but your panties on, as she absentmindedly massaged your back.

“Shuri”

“Hm”

“You’re beautiful. Everything about you.” You sit up looking into her eyes. “You never cease to amaze me, and I am so proud of you and how far you’ve come my love. How far we’ve come together. Today was beautiful. I couldn’t have dreamed of a proposal more perfect. You caught me completely off guard. I’m so thankful that I get to call you mine for the rest of our lives baby. You have my heart forever.” Shuri with tears in her eyes closed the distance kissing you with a slow passion. Gently, she laid you onto your back as the kiss became hungrier, hands roaming your body with intention. Every touch meant to cause pleasure. “I’m going to give you my all tonight.” Is all she said before she pulled away from you completely. She removed her harness and her suit jacket and you weren’t surprised to see there was nothing underneath. But all the same your core leaked with want and your mouth began to water.

Shuri hovered over your body, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she lowered herself onto you maneuvering her head to settle into the crook of your neck. She inhaled deeply taking in your scent, slowly she began licking the area where your neck and jaw connect. She lapped at it like a cat three times before giving it a hard pulsing suck. Drawing out a long moan from your throat. She pulled back and stared deep into your eyes. You looked up at her; your juicy lips slightly ajar, want written all over your face. That’s when you witnessed it. Her usual deep dark brown irises, turned green. Pupils turning vertical, like slits as her inner feline came out to play. You gasped. Heart rate increasing in excitement. This was new.

Suddenly, you hear a ‘KHOOOAAA’ sound and a cool sensation hitting your nipples. You gasp looking down to see Shuri applying whipped cream to your breast. You’d been so distracted by her eyes that you’d totally missed her reach for the can. “Baby w-what are you doing?” “Making a sundae.” she says with a wink as she placed down the cool whip and grabs the honey. She takes the bowl of honey and the honey dipper from the tray. Using the honey dipper she placed honey over top of the whipped cream. And then with a sly smile made a trail all the way down your body. You looked at her as you bit down on your lip. “Baby I’m gonna be all sticky”

“Kulungile (it’s ok). I want to get sticky and wet tonight” She winked, and you let out a moan.

“You like that huh, my dirty dirty girl” Shuri grabbed a half of a peach from the tray placing whipped cream and honey on top of it as well.

“Shuri what are you doing?” She looked over at you and tsked twice.

“Patience is a virtue my dear.” In seconds she’s back over top of you with the peach placed on your lips. “Open for me.” You opened your mouth like a good girl. As she places the peach inside. “Have a snack, while I have my meal” You bite into the peach as Shuri starts on your breast still holding the peach to your mouth. You moan looking down at her as she cleaned up the pretty mess she made all over your body. You take the peach from her hand so that she could concentrate on her meal. “Fuuck Shuri” you whisper. She looks up at you mouth messy with whipped cream and honey. Her cheeks sucked in as she gives your nipple a hard suck and releases it with a pop, getting rid of the last bit of cream. “Haaaa” you moan out. “That must be one delicious peach.” Smirking at her you take another messy bite of the peach. It’s juices running down your chin. Cream coating the corners of your mouth. Staring right into her hungry eyes you give each side of your mouth a lick.

Shuri comes up only for a moment to suck the juice from your chin and bottom lip, before continuing her path down your body. Making it down to your lace panties she took them between her teeth and with a low growl she gave one hard yank pulling them from your body. Sitting up with your black lace panties trapped between her teeth, mouth shiny from honey and traces of whipped cream. She looked sexily rabbid and you wished you could take a picture and hang it on your bedroom wall. Turning her head to the side, not taking her eyes off of you, she opened her mouth allowing the panties to drop out of her mouth. You felt your slick pool out into the crack of your ass.

“Mmm. Panther I need you please! Please fuck this pussy Queen Panther!”

“As you wish.” Shuri immediately lowered herself to your pussy, spreading your lips apart, she used the tip of her tongue to lick directly through the center of your pussy. Her head tilted to the side eyes closed as she enjoyed your taste. Moving her head up and down she went from your clit to your hole, arms wrapped under your legs holding you wide open. “Damnit! Eat that shit! Queen! More please More!”

She smirked in your pussy. Then she began to concentrate on your clit taking into her mouth giving it pulsating sucks before she started to suck and release. Building pressure at the tip of your clit. She released one of your legs placing her fingers at your entrance. “Kaninzi? (More)” Before you could answer her fingers entered you. Her other hand still wrapped around your thigh reached over to your pussy pushing back the skin above your clit giving her full access as she continued her pulsating sucks, while simultaneously massaging circles into the area above your clit, leaving no area of your pussy unsatisfied. “F-FUCK! W-what are you doing to me! W-what I-is Aaah.”

Shuri nodded her head “Mhmm” You were thrashing as Shuri easily held your legs opened, one with her forearm as she pumped, her arm wrapped around the other. As the tip of your clit began to pulse. Shuri pulled back. “Whatever you feel sthandwa let it go for me. Soak my face”. With that she placed her tongue underneath your clit and closed her mouth around it. She moved her tongue in and out of her mouth as she sucked. Your mouth fell open, but no sounds came out as your eyes rolled back into your head. Your body began to convulse and she then began to shake her head from side to side as a fountain of liquid poured from your womanhood.

————————————————————————

When you opened your eyes. You were confused. You were still in bed but had been cleaned up and placed under a new cozy comforter. You were facing Shuri’s side of the bed. But she wasn’t there. It didn’t take long to figure out where she was once you felt a light breeze. Both doors to the balcony where open and Shuri sat on her knees infront of them. Just as you were about to get up to walk toward her, her voice echoed through the room

“Bast, I know I don’t talk to you as often as I should. But, I wanted to properly thank you. I was so lost when y/n came into my life. And I know I’ve been careless with her. That is unmistakable. I was young and confused. I wanted to feel anything. I don’t understand everything about what you did. However, I am eternally greatful for you sending her to soften the blow. For giving me a love that stands through any and everything.” Her voice caught in her throat as she choked back tears. As she stretched her arms to her sides. “With open arms, I promise to give her my all, every part of me, because I know she is my destiny.” She let go of a sob. “I finally know. I’m so glad. I thank you Bast for showing me the one, I am no longer searching, She’s so perfect, Bast. Please don’t take her from me. Please.” She ended in a whispering plea as she let the dam break. Covering your mouth as tears poured from your eyes. You let her have her moment with Bast.

————————————————————————

Present

It was 2:14 am, and you sat on the edge of the hotel bed next to your sleeping husband. You were crying for her. The memory taking a hold of your heart. Sliding down the side of the bed with your face buried in your hands. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and took it into the bathroom. Your palms were sweaty as you searched for a number. You found what you were looking for and your thumb hovered over the contact until you got a serge of bravery and hit the call button. The phone rang three times before you got an answer.

Nakia: Y/n?

“Where can I find her?”

Taglist: @imjusthere2readbruv,@6-noir,@oceean,@sleepynggafr,@blacksapphhicmaddonna,@bbbbbbrilliantly

A/n: If you’re a fan of the Shame series you have more than likely realized that this is Part 6 to the series. If you’re not. Welcome. I hope you enjoyed! Part 7 will be out soon and it will be the FINAL CHAPTER!

#letitia wright #letitiawright #shuri udaku #spotify #shuri x reader #shuri fanfiction #shuri x you #shuri angst #shuri fic #shuri smut #shuri black panther #shuri imagine #Spotify

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hueningshaped · 1 year

Text

★ someday | c.yj

▰ genre: angst (they don’t end together)

▰ word count: 2.1k

▰ synopsis: you and yeonjun have a conversation you didn’t think you’d ever have to make or you break up with yeonjun even though he’s doing so well in his career

warnings: break ups, not the healthiest relationship

a/n: randomly wrote this while i was sad and listening to day6. sorry 😢 ily and thank you for still being here.

“what are you doing here?” it’s a question that can’t be helped. the time is past the dead of the night, it’s frigid, but it’s raining lightly, meaning the roads are frozen. beyond all the reasons someone shouldn’t be out, you’re mainly surprised because—

“i’m here to change your mind. well, actually—“ yeonjun stops to chuckle wryly. “i’m here to ask you to reconsider your decision. i-i know i can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. i know that. i know and i respect your decisions. i just want you to decide again…”

yeonjun’s nose is red. his ears, too. his hands are by his side, curled into even redder fists that you’d usually bring into your own lips to blow at in attempts to warm up, but that’s not your place.

“how did you even get here?” you dare to ask another question, in disbelief over how he actually showed up to your door, that he was actually here, that he was really standing in front of you, but with intention to try and win you over—rather, win you back.

he sighs, puff of condensation steaming out, and he shuts his eyes painfully when he blinks, but it quickly goes away when he looks at you again.

“i just wanted to say i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry, y/n. i really am, baby, i swear,” your heart quivers in your chest, but your face doesn’t give that part away. it stays still, save of the reality of how your heart really feels: mangled, broken, like a steel bar relying on the rust that connects it to its other half.

it’s easy to accept his apology, but it still feels like it falls short. it’s the same thing. your relationship with him has been some of the happiest years of your life, but it doesn’t mean they haven’t also been rocky and tiring. it’ll be another year of nonstop schedules for him, who already hardly has any time for himself and his family because he’s an idol.

it was today that you’d come to the decision, which had rested on a fence you’ve been on for a few months, that it was time to take a break and call it off.

the ringing of your phone seemed never ending, your heart in your throat, feet on edge, as you waited and waited and waited for him to pick up. two missed calls jumped to six, and six missed calls jumped to eight, and by then, you’d peeled too far in your cuticles, making yourself bleed.

so, you’d left a voicemail—shakily, quietly disclosing your true feelings.

yeonjun, if you receive this message… i wanted to let you know that i want to break up. this is my decision. my mind’s been made up. sorry, it had to be this way, but it’s just right. take care. goodbye, yeonjun. […] [sniffle] did it send? oh, shoo—

of course, bombarding his phone if he so chose to look at it or not ignore you wasn’t ideal, nor had it been your first plan. in fact, this was done out of a moment of desperation. paranoia and frustration had long been eating away at you. you were overwhelmed, tired of pacing, tired of rowing this boat and pretending, and well…

it was only a matter of time.

a smile squeezes at your lips, pursed with halfheartedness. you nod because—

“i know, yeonjun. i know you’re sorry. i know you don’t mean to do anything bad to me genuinely, i know that you feel terrible, maybe even worse, now that you’re aware of how i feel, but—“ you close your eyes, inhaling sharply, to hide the adrenaline of a cry building up in your chest. with every word you say, his eyebrows become more and more drawn in, dejection and fear becoming of his expression, face still the same beautiful. “all i’m asking is for some time apart. alone, completely. not the fake together that we’ve been and we’re officially going to be with all your…schedules. i know it’s not your fault you’re booked and busy, but ah! this is tiring for me. i’m tired. and i know more than anything that you are, too.”

his eyes glitter with tears. the water pools along his lash line. his bottom lip is curved inwards. yeonjun opens his mouth to let out an exhale wet with tears.

“you can say whatever you want, and i know this is the coldest anyone could be to you, but it has to be done. so, by all means, yeonjun, go ahead. say your part, i’ll listen.” you add again, crossing your arms more to bring yourself further warmth. it doesn’t seem right to invite him inside, even if your heart begs and wails at the highest octave and volume to let him in and let him kiss away all the pain at least for a little while. but you don’t.

“okay… alright, i… thank you, y/n. um, i don’t… i don’t know what to say suddenly, oh, my… what do i do, i’m suddenly speechless,” it becomes clear he’s at a loss of words, he looks around at his surroundings like he just sobered up. maybe you were too harsh. “i just think i’ve fucked up. truly, completely. i’m sorry i finally decided to show up, only at the last second.”

you laugh.

“me, too,” you say with a little smile, facade wrong for the tone in your voice. it betrays each part, just the way your heart feels. he lowers his head.

“i took advantage of you always being there for me, and i wasn’t even there for you, so i’m sorry for that, too. i could have been a hundred times better, like the person i was when we first became a couple. i’m just busy. that’s it. i’m just too busy, and i can’t even do anything better than this. i’m just… really sorry. i can’t even give you anything. i’ve nothing more to offer to you in this moment, and for that and—well—and for everything, i really am sorry. i can’t promise you anything. i just wanted to remind you of how i feel, and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to let go of my love for you.”

you look past him to the dim lit street, black ice leaving the road with a gleam, and the rain picks up, making the sky hazy. he doesn’t belong here. he’s too perfect. he always has been. it’s easy for him to point out all his faults since he begs you to reconsider, but you can admit that you also could have done a bit better, especially for him. he doesn’t need this.

yeonjun’s heart splits in two at the way your own eyes well up, face blank and stony, doing its best to not give away your pain. it’s embarrassing to dismissively wipe away a tear or two that betray your eyes.

“stop beating yourself up, baby,” your voice hitches as you try and reassure him. “i just think we each deserve better. you don’t need to constantly have guilt for being who you are. maybe we aren’t together, but i’ll always be here for you. you know i’m not going anywhere.”

yeonjun grits his teeth and brings a hand to messily wipe away tears you didn’t even know he’d let go.

“don’t say that. i love you, y/n. please,” he pleads, bringing his fists together to his chin.

“just because i’m asking to be apart doesn’t mean i don’t love you,” you take his hands into yours to kiss at them. he sniffles hard, incoherent to the sobs he’s holding back.

he cries too much and hurts too much for someone who will eventually forget that they were even in such a burdensome relationship… he’ll be so busy anyway. he won’t have time to think about this. he has such infinite love for his fans, and his fans love him so infinitely. he’ll be okay in no time, won’t he?

yeonjun’s hands are back by his sides, and so are yours. the wind whistles and your wind chimes ring solemnly. they fill in the silence and the nothing of you two. you know he’s not a mind reader, but you wish he’d ask you how you felt, if it hurt making this decision—because it wasn’t easy. it was painstaking to step up and walk away from this, but you had to. you had to, didn’t you?

“do…you want me to give you a ride? i really don’t know how you got here…” you speak up. your own nose is reddening. he swallows a lump in his throat, hesitating to shake his head.

“my chauffeur parked a few blocks down since the streets are too narrow. i really am sorry, y/n, not only because i feel bad but because i know it’s not fair to you. we… we’ll always be friends, right?” his tone is so fearful, even if he does his best to hide it with hope and liveliness. your face is so still, so blank. you didn’t mean to let him down so coldly.

“of course, jjunbug.” is all you say, and that seems to be enough: enough to keep the heartbreak at bay, enough to soothe yeonjun, your now ex-boyfriend, on the surface at least. it can only be enough. this is as much as you can do. this is as much as he can take.

his smile is wobbly, complementary of the broken light in his eyes that’s so uncharacteristic of him, who is always such a cheerful beam of iridescent light.

“y/n, do you think i could hug you one more time? i know i can’t kiss you or anything, but i’m just… ah, forget about it. it’s stupid i asked…” his tone mirrors his posture; you can tell he feels small. you’ve rarely seen him like that—the few instances he let you mend him when he’d come to you broken, or on the brink of shattering. your yeonjun has always been so strong, even when he was at his weakest.

“sure, yeonjun. we can hug.” you’re in your house slippers, on the frame where your place meets the outdoors. hesitantly, your arm reaches out over the frame where you stand, hand returning to his to bring warmth, and as soon as he feels your touch, knowing it’ll be the last, yeonjun can’t help but come to you, also pulling you more towards him to wrap his arms tightly around you, fisting your clothes and weakly sniffling in your hair.

he smells like home. the pattern of breaths that he takes feel so familiar to you; you missed this background noise. you rest your chin on his shoulder as he does his best to accommodate to your height, your bottom lip wobbles at this realization that you know this’ll be the last.

yeonjun feels your hand come to his nape, lightly and tenderly holding on, playing with his long hair. the faintest of cries makes their way to your ears, and it hurts even more, but you know that this is best. isn’t it?

you stand a little on your tip toes, pulling him down when you can’t stand on them anymore, but he lets you.

minutes pass. the wind whistles, a family or two pass by on the sidewalk despite the frigid breeze piercing the air. his hands rub up and down your arms to bring you warmth, but your senses all come to collect at the hum of his voice, so beautiful and calming, and that scent of his, so rich and comforting. you do your best to savor it to mind, to never ever forget it, and he does the same, feeling the width and softness of your body, your warmth, and your fragrant body that smells like home to him.

after some time and hesitation, he pulls away, hands lingering around your waist before he really is letting go. he smiles, nodding like he understands everything going on in your head, and you nod, the same.

yeonjun takes one step down your small set of steps, looking back one more time, with a sad smile.

“y/n, do you think we could try again in the future?” he asks, words slurring like they always do.

it seems possible, but it also seems like he’s on that path where he’s only going to get busier and busier. and you know you are, too. it’s that point of adulthood where you have to plan weeks in advance to meet with friends. it all seems dismal, but a part of you wants to hold onto that hope, the hope that he would still want you the way he (maybe) wants you now: the way he made an effort to try and win you back. so, all you do is smile and shrug.

“i think so,” even though your heart is breaking, and without a doubt, so is yeonjun’s, you do believe that this isn’t the end for you and him.

for now, you have no idea when you’ll ever see him again, but you still hope.

“maybe.”

#txt imagines #txt scenarios #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun x reader #txt angst #yeonjun angst #tomorrow x together imagines

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fruitdaze · 3 months

Text

fic writer meme!

thank you claire @microcomets and lore @megafaunatic for the tag!!!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

34 posted publicly, and a few more that are now on anon because i have disowned them

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

427,315

3. What fandoms do you write for?

mostly danmei (currently a lot of liu yao, cancipin, and yuwu), but i'm excited to start branching out to other books if they catch my attention :')

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

in defense of lightning

between two lungs

blooming days

the rivers start to sing

shake the heavy

all are wangxian because i was regrettably a one trick pony for several years LOL

5. Do you respond to comments?

i fell out of answering comments in like 2022 and i've just never gotten back to it! i'm usually not sure what to say except thank you and i also get very self conscious. but i always read every single comment i receive, usually 5+ times because they're such a big confidence boost

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i honestly don't think i've written anything super angsty! i don't like reading a lot of angst and so i cannot write it. but i guess losing all my senses every night has a vaguely angsty ending since it's a missing scene

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most have happy endings!!! but i admit that the ending of i kneel into a dream still makes me do kicky feet a little bit

8. Do you get hate on fics?

a few times, but overwhelmingly the comments are so kind :')

9. Do you write smut?

yes! although it took me a while to get comfortable with it and also start to feel semi good at it

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written?

nope, and i'm not a big fan of them personally so i probably will never do so!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i am aware of.......... knock on wood etc

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

back to my door has a russian tl!! that is the only one that i know about but i would be thrilled if that list expanded

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

lots of casual discord brainstorming but never a formal fic!

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

i honestly don't know if i have an all-time favorite! what i crave in a pairing can change from month to month or even day to day. all of the ships i've written for have a special place in my heart and have provided me with comfort at some point. but for the past year i've been very into mingqian and lulin, and for the past month-ish i've been REALLY fixated on lulin (lulin save me... lulin.... save me lulin)

15. What is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i started a follow-up/sequel to the soft animal but the inspiration has totally left me and i'm not sure if that wip will ever get resurrected </3

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think i'm really good at imagery and purple prose. which is not everyone's thing but EYE love purple prose, so,

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

action scenes!!!! and frankly smut scenes, which always take me 5x longer to write than dialogue or more plotty scenes. i've said it before but wangxian was my first time writing smut, and as an ace person it's still not something that comes easily to me.

18. Thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

most of my experience with this is in danmei, but i have always loved seeing chinese or diaspora fans integrate that into their fics! one day i'm going to write my locked tomb/sixth house fic and put latin in there because you know those people are unironically using latin in daily speech. this is my calling

19. First fandom you wrote for?

honestly i think it was inuyasha. never saw the light of day of course

20. Favorite fic you have written?

i've been REALLY pleased with my writing over the past few months, but i'm quite fond of portrait of gravity... mingqian banter is always so fun to write and it was surprisingly personally cathartic to write from the pov of acespec cheng qian. also i can reread it without wanting to singe my eyeballs, which is the norm for me upon rereading my own work

i tag @yuebings @dcyiyou @tantai-jin @perilously @arithmonym @hamburgergod and anyone else who wants to do this!!

#rtxt #ficposting

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hogwartseighthyear · 2 years

Text

your girl

(part 1) | part 2 | part 3

pairing: neville longbottom x fem!reader word count: 4.2k tags: rated M, house-neutral reader, established relationship, sexually suggestive but nothing outright explicit, lots of fluff and mushy lovey-dovey feelings, Y/N used summary: neville’s roommates find you in his bed after your first time together. note: wow my first time posting fanfic on tumblr! i’ve been sitting on this one for a while and finally decided to say fuck it and release it into the wild. enjoy and thanks for reading! (EDIT: per request, there are multiple parts to this series now, but they’re not chronological or continuous. just extra moments with you and neville in this particular universe). (crossposted here to AO3)

“Dean and Seamus said they’ll be pulling an all-nighter down in Hufflepuff with Ernie to finish their Charms essay.”

You hummed absently in response. However, most of your attention was trained on the bookshelf in front of you. You’d been struggling with your latest translation assignment from Professor Babbling, and for as vast and well stocked as the Hogwarts library was, you couldn’t seem to find a proper book on the proto-Germanic phonology of Elder Futhark for the life of you. All the head tilting and squinting at small text was starting to grate on your nerves, and not for the first time you were questioning your own sanity for ever thinking that pursuing a N.E.W.T. in Ancient Runes was a good idea.

“And Harry’s still in London meeting with the Minister.”

You paused at the non-sequitur, your hand poised over the spine of a rather serious-looking tome titled Runic Inscriptions of the First Century, and glanced over at your boyfriend.

Neville hovered next to you, as he had been since the two of you had entered the library together, but only now did you notice the nervous way he shifted on his feet and twiddled with the strap of your bag, which he’d offered to carry.

“…And Ron always stays with Hermione on the weekends,” he added after a few beats of silence.

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay…?”

Neville only chewed on his bottom lip, failing to elaborate any further. You could tell there was something else he wanted to say, but clearly he’d need some prodding to spit it out.

You dropped your hand and turned towards him, forgetting entirely about Ancient Runes, if just for a moment.

“Nev,” you began gently, “I don’t want to sound rude, but why exactly are you telling me this?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Huffed and cast a furtive glance around. The library was sparsely populated, considering that it was a Saturday evening, and there was no one else nearby.

Neville leaned in closer, a pink flush on his cheeks, his voice low. “My dorm’s empty. You could, y’know. Spend the night. If— if you want to, that is.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, eyes widening.

It wasn’t a mystery what Neville actually meant. The two of you had been dating for six months now—him having finally worked up the courage to ask you out after the Battle had ended—and you were quite possibly the happiest you’d ever been: back in Hogwarts with your peers, finishing your education, ridiculously in love with one of your long-time best friends.

Eighth year, as it had been jokingly coined, was a chance to just be normal students. No more looming threats of mortal danger. Instead, these days your interests tended to skew towards more conventional things, like N.E.W.T. level coursework, and Hogsmeade weekends, and snogging your boyfriend senseless in empty classrooms. Or broom closets. Or greenhouses.

You and Neville hadn’t gone any further than that. But you’d— talked about it. Awkwardly, through a lot of blushing and nervous stammering. Neville’s confidence had improved drastically over the past year, of course, but romance was brand new territory, and he was still easily flustered by it.

You’d assured him that you wanted him, though. And he wanted you. And you were both ready to take that next step, whenever the time came.

Apparently, the time would be tonight.

Even though you could feel your heart thrumming against your chest, you couldn’t hold back the smile that broke out across your face, much to Neville’s relief. “I think I’d like that,” you said.

“Really?” he asked.

You nodded, huffing a laugh. “Yes, really.”

“Right, yeah. Brilliant,” he breathed, grinning back at you.

The rest of the evening passed far too slow for your liking. A shared sense of nervous anticipation hung over you and Neville, which grew each time you met each other’s eyes, knowing exactly what was on the other’s mind. Unsurprisingly, you failed to make any headway on your Ancient Runes assignment.

Curfew came and went, and not long after, most of the students in the Gryffindor Tower were winding down and slinking off to bed. You followed Neville to the boys’ dormitory, trying your very best to act natural as you passed through the common room. You couldn’t help but feel like your intentions were written plainly across your forehead: “We’re about to shag!” in bold lettering. But thankfully, the few stragglers that lingered downstairs didn’t pay either of you any mind. You’d been friends with Neville for years, after all, and had spent a good deal of time hanging out in his dorm. Seeing you climb the boys’ stairs was nothing new.

The fact that you and Neville had become more than friends, however, was something you’d kept to yourselves. Being hounded by the press all summer had been difficult for Neville, introverted as he was, and he hadn’t wanted to subject your relationship to their scrutiny as well. Or to anyone’s scrutiny, for that matter.

For the time being, it was nice to have something that only belonged to the two of you.

There was no shortage of awkward fumbling once you and Neville were alone in his dorm. It was different than the snogging and the occasional wandering hand that you’d become accustomed to—much more intense, intimate, bared to each other in the low light and laid out across a real bed. Needless to say, you’d never seen your boyfriend so anxious before. Neville, who had led a student rebellion inside the castle walls, who had been tortured repeatedly by the Carrows, who had stood up to Voldemort and chopped off his snake’s head with the bloody sword of Gryffindor.

Apparently that was all a walk in the park compared to sleeping with you for the first time. The thought amused you just as much as it made you melt with adoration.

After enough time and careful exploration, though, you and Neville managed to lose yourselves in one another. The movement of your hands, mouths, and bodies relaxed into something natural and instinctive, and your collective nerves gave way to much more pleasing sensations: his hot breath against your neck, your legs wrapped around his hips, sweat-slick skin and quiet moans.

You clung to Neville on the narrow mattress afterwards, hazy and content. And when you fell asleep, you did so gently, slowly, without even realizing.

However many hours later, you woke to the ringing of an alarm clock. The volume had been spelled low, so it wasn’t quite as jarring, but you still made an unhappy noise as the body beneath you shifted. The ringing stopped after a few moments.

In your groggy state of half-consciousness, you registered the feeling of Neville’s fingers brushing the hair off your face, stroking the curve of your cheek. The gentle touches had you nuzzling deeper into his chest. You could hear his heartbeat pressed this close, steady and relaxed.

“Good morning,” Neville said, his voice still rough from sleep. The sound hummed pleasantly against your ear.

“Morning,” you responded—or tried to, at least. The word barely slurred out of your mouth, muffled against Neville’s chest. Closer to an incomprehensible grunt than actual English.

He laughed quietly. “I need to get up, darling.”

“Mm. Whatimes’it?”

“Seven-thirty.”

“Too early,” you declared, tightening your hold around Neville. It was warm and comfortable under the covers with him, sharing body heat. You were quite certain in that moment that you could lie there happily for the rest of your life. Not even Voldemort himself waltzing into the boys’ dormitory could pull you from Neville’s bed. Little busy here, Tom, you’d say before rolling over and going back to sleep.

Neville placed a kiss on the top of your head, then another on your temple, making you melt further into his embrace. He knew just how to wear you down.

“I told Professor Sprout I’d help her defang the geraniums this morning,” he said, lips still brushing against your face.

“Isn’t it Sunday?”

“Yes?”

“So responsible,” you murmured, turning to press a kiss to Neville’s chest, the sparse hair there tickling your face. You let your mouth trail upwards and began to kiss at the tender skin of his throat. You were careful not to leave any marks, tempting as it was, but delighted in the way he inhaled sharply and squirmed beneath you.

“Are you absolutely sure you need to get up?” you asked.

Neville groaned. “Yes. But you’re making it hard.”

You raised your head, unable to resist the stupid grin that spread across your face. “Oh, am I?”

He groaned again, this time for a very different reason, and flung an arm over his eyes. “That was terrible,” he said, despite the way his mouth curled up in an answering grin.

You laughed and tugged at Neville’s arm. “Come on, don’t hide from me now! It’s not like you have much left to hide after last night, anyway—”

Neville cut you off, lunging forward and catching your lips in a demanding kiss. He was insistent, pushing until you were the one being pressed down into the mattress, switching your positions. His face was warm and flushed against yours, and neither of you stopped smiling, even after he pulled away.

For a long moment you simply laid there as Neville hovered above you, staring into each other’s eyes. You reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, running your thumb over the pink scar that cut along his cheekbone. He’d collected a number of them the year prior. Several of which were inflicted by dark magic and would never fade. Even still, they didn’t seem to bother Neville. He wore them proudly, unselfconsciously.

At times like this it was hard to believe that, despite everything, you’d ended up here. Alive and well with the man you loved. That after so much pain and destruction, you’d managed to find this indescribable happiness.

Neville leaned into your touch, his expression soft and affectionate. “Go back to sleep,” he said gently. “I shouldn’t be gone more than two hours. I’ll even swing by the Great Hall and bring back breakfast when I’m finished.”

“Okay,” you finally agreed, keeping your voice quiet, unwilling to disrupt the moment. “I love you.”

“I love you too, petal.”

You burrowed deeper under the covers, trying to soak up your boyfriend’s residual heat, and allowed your eyes to close, half listening to Neville shuffle around the room as he dressed. By the time he came over to press one last kiss to your temple, you were already drifting off.

It wasn’t a deep sleep. Not like the way you’d slept the night before, safe and sated in your lover’s arms, essentially dead to the world. Rather, you could feel yourself suspended somewhere just beneath the surface of consciousness. The transition when you woke for the second time that morning was easier and far more pleasant.

The sun streaming in through the windows was brighter now, making you squint as your eyes adjusted. Craning your neck towards the nightstand, you saw the alarm clock read just a bit past nine. Neville would likely return in the next half hour with breakfast in tow. The prospect brought a smile to your face. Merlin, you were lucky.

You sat up in bed, letting the blankets pool around your hips, and heaved a big yawn. Scrubbing a hand over your face, you wondered if you’d have time to pop in the shower before Neville came back. You could certainly use one. Or maybe if you waited, you could ask him to join you.

That idea made your heart rate pick up. Surely, now that you and Neville had crossed that threshold, there would be a whole world of experiences you would explore together. New things that you would learn about one another. Even just the thought of pressing your body against his in the shower had butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You were startled from your daydreams by the door opening.

It wasn’t Neville.

“We still have until class tomorrow to finish— BLOODY HELL!” Dean cried out when his eyes landed on you, coming to an abrupt stop. Seamus and Ron, who were trailing in behind Dean, bumped into his back.

Much to your horror, you realized that you were still naked.

You shrieked and dove under the covers, tugging them over your head for good measure. The three boys shouted in alarm, and you could hear their panicked clamoring outside Neville’s bed.

“Fuck, Y/N, we’re so sorry—!” Dean was saying.

“Y/N? Is that really—?” Seamus.

“Merlin’s beard! With Neville—?” Ron.

“I bloody told you so, Weasley! You owe me five galleons!” Seamus.

“Can you two not—?” Dean.

“FUCK OFF!” you bellowed.

More scrambling. Two sets of footsteps fled the dormitory and thundered back down the stairs, but one remained, hurriedly shuffling about. Heart hammering in your chest, you uncovered your head and peered out over the edge of the blanket.

Ron had his back to you, thankfully, as he rushed to dig through his trunk across the room. Even from behind you could see that the tips of his ears were nearly as red as his hair.

“Sorry, I just— It’s just that ‘Mione lost her jumper and, uh, I told her I’d, um— I’d look for it here,” he said, rapidly pulling apart the contents of his trunk and discarding them on the floor. When that search turned up empty, he haphazardly shoved everything back inside and scuttled over to rifle through his wardrobe.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. It felt as though your face would burst into flames at any moment.

“Ron.”

He paused, still refusing to look your way. “…Yes?”

“You’re a wizard,” you said evenly. “Can’t you just summon it?”

“Oh! Well, yeah, I suppose I could try.” Ron fished his wand out of his pocket and cleared his throat. “Accio Hermione’s jumper!”

The jumper shot out from underneath Ron’s bed and flew straight into his hand. “Brilliant!” He turned to you with a wide grin, which immediately faltered when he saw you still shielding yourself beneath the blankets. He scratched at the back of his neck, his eyes darting between you and anywhere else in the room.

“So. You and Neville, huh?” he asked with an awkward gesture towards Neville’s bed.

You just stared at Ron, wishing that the floor would open up and eat him whole.

“…Right,” he said after a prolonged silence. “Well. Cheers, Y/N.” And with that, he left the dorm, closing the door behind him.

You took a moment to simply lie there, gazing up blankly at the canopy above you. Perhaps if you escaped out the window—a cushioning charm or a summoned broom would do the trick—and ran away to live the rest of your life in the Forbidden Forest, you wouldn’t have to face any of Neville’s roommates ever again.

Eventually, after enough mortified brooding, you redressed in the clothes you’d left strewn about the floor the night prior. You weren’t particularly keen on anyone else walking in and seeing you in your birthday suit.

By the time you were slipping your feet into your shoes, Neville returned. He had his wand held up, levitating two plates of breakfast fresh from the Great Hall in front of him. You instantly relaxed at the sight of him, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as he sat himself next to you on the edge of the bed, handing you a plate. His face was scrunched into a confused pout.

“Everyone was looking at me weird in the common room,” he said. “I don’t have any dirt on my face, do I? I checked before I left the greenhouse.”

You paused, feeling your insides immediately drop. “Everyone?” you squeaked. You might not have been necessarily close with Neville’s friends, but you were friendly with all of them. They were good people. There was no way they would have ran off and told all the other Gryffindors—

“Well, no, just the guys and Hermione,” Neville said, much to your relief. He stared hard at the toast on his plate, contemplating, before glancing over at you. “Did something happen with them while I was gone?” he asked.

You tried and failed not to cringe at the memory. “Um— Just that three of your roommates barged in here and saw my tits. That’s all.”

Neville made a startled noise and fumbled his plate. His toast slid off the edge and landed on the floor. “What?”

“Yeah. It was quite horrific for everyone involved.” You sighed and took your first bite of breakfast.

“I— They— Fucking hell,” Neville stammered, his eyes wide. He wasn’t one to swear very often, so you could tell he was worked up.

You nodded along. “I think Seamus and Ron had a bet going as to whether or not you and I were together, too.”

“Merlin, Y/N. Are you alright?” he asked, setting his breakfast aside to wrap an arm around you. “Did they say anything rude? I’ll— I’ll kill them, I swear!”

His face was fierce and determined, and despite the situation at hand, you couldn’t help but adore how your boyfriend was jumping at the bit to defend you. It was just so cute. Everything about him was.

“You’d risk life in Azkaban for me?” you asked, gently teasing.

“In a heartbeat.”

You huffed a laugh and leaned in closer to Neville’s side. “Maybe we should hold off on the murder for now. I’d miss you too much if you were locked away forever.”

He gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I could tell them off for you. Or I could jinx them for a week straight. Whatever you say.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “No one was rude to me. It was all just really, really embarrassing. Though I do appreciate the offer.” You held up your own piece of toast for Neville to take a bite. His was still sitting on the floor next to his trainers.

Once you had both finished eating, having set aside your empty plates to be taken care of by the house elves, you spoke up again.

“Nev?” you asked, hesitant. “You’re not… upset that people know about us now, are you?”

You were aware that it was a stupid concern driven by your own insecurity. You didn’t doubt that Neville loved you and would never be ashamed of you. But the thought still niggled at the back of your mind. What if he didn’t want to go public yet? What if the press caught on? How much trouble would this create for the two of you?

Predictably, Neville’s face softened at your question. “Of course not. Why would I be upset?”

“I mean, I know that we were keeping things just between us and I feel really bad that—”

“Love,” he interrupted, “I don’t mind. It was nice having you all to myself for a while, but honestly? I’ve kind of been looking forward to, y’know. Showing you off.” He glanced away, bashful.

“Really?” you asked, your heart swelling.

Neville nodded. “‘Course. I want people to know that you’re my girl. I mean, as long as you’re okay with that,” he rushed to add. “I could still tell my dorm mates to keep their mouths shut, if you want—”

“Neville!” you cut him off, laughing. “Yes, I’m okay with that. More than.” You leaned over to peck his cheek. “I love being your girl.”

The two of you didn’t linger much longer. Neville objected to your idea of escaping through the window, and there was no other way out of the boys’ dormitory, so your only option was to steel your nerves and prepare to face his friends. His friends that had seen you naked and had definitely gathered what you were doing the night before. God. The sheer embarrassment was nearly life-ending, but you were helped along by Neville’s hand in yours, leading you down the spiral staircase and into the common room.

He didn’t let go. Not even when your joint arrival caught the attention of the five Gryffindors—now including Ginny—seated by the fire, who all abruptly stopped talking and turned to stare at you and and your boyfriend.

There was a long, painful silence. A silence that was, unfortunately, broken by Seamus.

“Neville, Y/N, er— congrats,” he said with an awkward smile.

The others all immediately groaned. Hermione—wearing her jumper, you noticed—buried her face in her hands. You raised your eyebrows at Seamus.

“What? What? Oh, come on!” he cried out indignantly, sitting up in the armchair he’d been lounging in. “I wasn’t congratulating them on the sex, I was congratulating them on the— you know!” He flapped his hand towards you and Neville. “The relationship! I mean, you two are dating now, aren’t you?”

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to gather the willpower to not take out your wand and hex Neville’s roommate. “Yes, Seamus, we’re dating,” you said with great restraint.

“Nice going, Finnigan,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Seamus,” Neville sighed.

“Anyways,” Hermione said, shooting an unimpressed look at Seamus before turning back to you, “I think you two make a lovely couple.”

“Same here,” Dean said kindly, though his face was still a bit sheepish. “I reckon most of us were wondering when it was gonna happen.”

“Most of us,” Seamus snickered and gave his own pocket a pat. It jingled.

“Hey, I’m not blind,” Ron huffed, crossing his arms. “Everyone knows Neville’s been making googly eyes at Y/N for years. I just didn’t think he’d worked up the nerve to ask her out yet. Sorry, mate,” he added, nodding at Neville.

You looked to your boyfriend, whose cheeks had gone rather pink. Which was really quite funny, that he could still act so shy about his crush on you, despite six months of dating. Despite the frequent “I love you’s.” Despite the unholy things he did to you just the night before.

“Years?” you asked, a wondrous little smile curling at your mouth.

“At least since the Triwizard Tournament,” Ginny piped up with a wicked grin. “I swore he was ‘bout to pitch himself off the Astronomy Tower when you agreed to go to the Yule Ball with that Durmstrang boy.”

“No, no, it was definitely before that,” Dean said, turning to his friends. “Don’t you guys remember that time in third year when I sent Y/N a chocolate frog on Valentine’s Day and Neville didn’t speak to me for a week?”

“Well I always thought that when we all met in first year on the train—” Hermione began, but was abruptly cut off.

“OKAY!” Neville shouted. By that point most of the other Gryffindors in the common room were looking over at the lot of you, and the flush on Neville’s face had darkened considerably. “If you’re all quite done, me and Y/N will be off.”

At that moment, the entrance to the common room swung open and Harry stepped in through the portrait hole. Everyone who was gathered in front of the fire stopped and turned to look at him. Harry drew up short, raising his eyebrows.

“Hello,” he greeted you all cautiously. “…Did I miss something?”

“Neville and Y/N are shagging,” Ron announced. Harry’s eyebrows climbed even higher on his forehead.

“Ronald!” Hermione reached over to smack his arm.

“What?” he asked incredulously.

“Seriously? Do you not have any tact?”

“They were the ones screwing in our dorm room!”

Dean scoffed. “Oh, as if we don’t all know what you and Hermione get up to when—”

“Eugh! Stop, stop, that’s my brother, I don’t want to hear it!” Ginny said, covering her own ears.

Ron was sputtering. Hermione’s mouth hung open, mortified. Harry looked supremely uncomfortable. And Seamus was trying and failing miserably to hold in his laughter.

“Oh my god,” Neville muttered. “Come on, we’re leaving.” He tightened his grip on your hand and swiftly ushered you out of the Gryffindor common room, the sound of his friends descending further into chaos fading as the Fat Lady’s portrait swung shut behind you.

You weren’t sure where Neville was leading you, or if he even had a destination in mind other than away, but the two of you eventually came to a stop in the middle of an empty corridor. As soon as your eyes met, you and Neville both broke out into a fit of laughter, only somewhat hysterical.

“Merlin!” you exclaimed. “I suppose that’s one way to break the news to your friends.”

“They’re a bunch of bigmouthed trolls, is what they are,” Neville said, though not without a fair amount of exasperated fondness.

You stepped forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder, clutching at the front of his sweater. He immediately brought a hand up to rub circles on your back. “The whole school is going to know by dinnertime with how loud they were,” you said.

Neville hummed. He didn’t sound displeased.

You raised your head, peering at your boyfriend curiously. “You really don’t mind, do you?” you said, more of an observation than a question.

“Well, you heard them.” Neville, wearing a serene—if not slightly embarrassed—smile, moved to cup your face in his hands. “I’ve been crazy about you for years.”

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom #neville longbottom fic #my writing #still not too happy about this one but i really can't be fucked to edit it any more #so here i am dumping it unceremoniously into the tags. bone apple teeth

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waytooinvested · 27 days

Text

fanfic writer questions

Thanks for the tag @sssammich! I haven't done one of these in years, I'm excited :D

1- How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 11, but a couple are long ones (100,000+ words)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

406,700 and counting - one of those is a WIP that will have a lot more to add so I MAY make it to 500,000 in the coming months, if I write another couple of short ones on top.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now I'm just writing for Supergirl (and supercorp specifically). In the past I wrote a lot for Call the Midwife (Patsy x Delia, my beloveds), and I have written one small one for Strange the Dreamer, just because I had an idea that wouldn't leave me alone until I got it out.

I tend to be a bit all or nothing with fandom, so I am usually only in one at a time.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Hands I Used to Touch (Patsy/Delia - Call the Midwife) by a landslide. It also (briefly) had the most comments of any fic in the fandom which was very cool (it was the one I was writing for longest during the peak engagement era for the pairing, but still it is my crowning achievement as a fic writer haha)

After that Vengeance, Victory and Undying Love (Supercorp), Little Things Mean A Lot tied with A Paper Bag of Pick n Mix (both Patsy/Delia), and Storybooks and Siren Suits (also Patsy & Delia, but as children so not a romantic pairing)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Definitely! I try to respond to every comment, because they mean so much to get and I want the people taking the time to write them to know they are extremely appreciated. Also I have made some wonderful friends that way!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I am allergic to angsty endings! Angsty beginnings? Almost inevitable. Angsty middles, sure. Angsty ENDINGS? Never. So angstiest: maybe "The Static of Distance" from my Paper Bag of Pick n Mix, because they are still half a world away from each other during a threat of nuclear war. But even so it's only an angsty ending if you squint really hard.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

They all have pretty unambiguously happy endings honestly, I'm not sure I could pick between them!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I don't think I've ever had hate as such. Some maybe less than whole heartedly positive responses, though most of that was when I was teasing an apparently dark character arc before a twist and making people worried about what I was up to. But see above re: all of my fics having absolutely unambiguously happy endings, so we got there eventually.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not so far - I think the closest I have come was my wife and I writing a silly crack fic together that involved smut, but it was not at all meant to be actually sexy and we never posted it anywhere, sooo...

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not typically, but there was A Misplaced Midwife, in which Barbara from Call the Midwife (a fairly sheltered young 1960s midwife played by Charlotte Ritchie) traded places with Hannah from Siblings (a modern day selfish, chaotic disaster human also played by Charlotte Ritchie) and how they got along in each other's lives. It was silly and crack-y but a lot of fun to write.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, thankfully!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Alas, no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

The aforementioned crack fic with @cynicalrainbows but that was just for our own entertainment. She also contributed several lines/ideas to A Misplaced Midwife. I don't think I have apart from that.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

I only really have two that I've been invested enough to fic about it, and while my current all consuming obsession is Supercorp, I have only been in it for a couple of months compared to the years long love affair with Patsy/Delia that also led to me meeting my wife and many good friends. So for now, Patsy/Delia still reign supreme. We'll see if that is still the case in a few more months!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I try to always finish my fics, but I do have one unfinished wip on my conscience, and that's Storybooks and Siren Suits. I still open it and do battle with progress now and again just in the hopes that I will manage to drag it across the finish line and put it to bed once and for all, but so far nothing doing. It remains stuck on the same chapter it has been stuck on since 2021.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh no don't make me pay myself compliments... Angst with happy endings? That is not really so much a writing strength as just a description of the type of story I write, but shh. I guess I got a lot of compliments on characterization back in my Call the Midwife days. Whether that follows through to Supercorp remains to be seen. I like how I'm writing them, at least!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My dialogue transitions tend to be clunky, at least so I'm finding lately. Also I am a total feast or famine writer, so any kind of sensible process or schedule discipline is completely non existent.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I avoid it for the most part because I would certainly make a mess of it, though I have one or two very very brief bits here and there. I think the longest piece was a character recalling their own long distant school french, which contained deliberate mistakes the character was making that acted as excellent cover for the genuine mistakes I no doubt also made.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I'm trying to recall if I ever wrote anything as a young teenager for Buffy The Vampire Slayer (Willow/Tara, naturally), but I don't think I did, and if so it definitely stayed as tucked away in an old notebook never to see the light of day. The first proper/definite one was Call the Midwife, just after they decided it would be a good idea to hit Delia with a car and give her amnesia right at the moment she and Patsy were about to move in together.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Well right now it's Forgotten Not Forgiven for sure, because that's where my obsession is currently living.

Of all time though? Probably still The Hands I Used to Touch, because I poured everything into it at the time and it played such a big part in me finding my feet in the fandom world. No pressure to do this at all of course but tagging @cynicalrainbows @fabulousglitch, @shut-up-heather-d and @fazedlight as people I know write fic and may enjoy this if you haven't done it already. Anyone else interested feel free to claim me as your tagger, I would love to see your responses!

#writer questions game

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litaskick · 2 years

Note

Hi! Can you do a dating edge includes imagine?

i am TERRIBLE at headcanons i feel like, but i’ll try for you anon

my requests are open, request here - who i write for - request rules - Edge Master List

summary: a collection of headcanons if you were dating the rated R superstar

Dating Edge Includes....

- let me just start off by saying that he ADORES you omg

- literally so in love with you

- absolutely whipped

- would actually do anything for you

- you are his favorite human (sorry christian)

- he always has a hand on you somehow

- adam will literally always find a way to touch you or just hold you

- always holding your hand, keeping an arm around your waist or shoulders, or holding you in his lap if he's sitting down

- adam also loves kissing you, ofc

- he isn't picky, he loves all the kisses, soft kisses, peppering kisses all over your face, rough kisses, or just making out

- he's called the rated r superstar for a reason, so you guys definitely enjoy and have fun with the sex

- adam is your biggest cheerleader, your #1 fan

- he is just so supportive of you

- he is very affectionate if you couldn't already tell

- if you were out with an injury, he would feel TERRIBLE leaving you back at home

- he will constantly worry about you the entire time

- you can count on adam to call you at least 3 times a day if you were out with injury

- literally gives the best hugs, they’re just so comforting

- cuddling is a must, he is all about the cuddles

- honestly, i could see him not sleeping good if you weren't cuddling him

- just because he's so used to it

- double dates with christian and his girlfriend

- when you two were younger he just dreamed of the day you two would get married

- pretty much since the beginning of your relationship he just knew that you were the one

- when you two do finally get married he is so emotional omg

- adam 100% cries when he sees you walking down the aisle

- like everything was about to become real, you were actually going to get married

- and once it was official, you remember that being the happiest you had ever seen him

- you two were just in absolute bliss

- you guys ARE the wrestling it couple

- and you have been for years

- literally the wrestling community's favorite couple

- at the beginning of your relationship you guys would sneak around

- adam didn't want to admit to christian that he was right about his crush on you

- eventually christian found out anyways though and told adam that he told him so

- when he was forced to retire, you retired just a few months after him

- you almost felt guilty to keep wrestling while he sat at home with a messed up neck watching you on the tv

- you also just worried about him being home alone without some one there 24/7, his mom would come in and help him out, but she would just stay for a few hours and leave

- when you went on raw to perform your retirement speech, adam still had no clue that you were retiring, you didn't really know how to tell him

- after you were done and trying to get back to your dressing room to call him, you kept getting stopped by all you coworkers, the women crying and telling you how much they would miss you, and the guys giving you a pat on the back or a hug and asking you why, to which you responded "My husband comes first."

- When you finally did get back to the locker room, you had dozens of missed calls from him, and few text telling you to call him

- of course you called him and he picked up before the first ring could even go through

- adam was just frantic "why are you retiring?", "you never told me about this" , "you don't have to do this because of me"

- you calmly just told him to relax "you come first adam, you always will. i love wrestling and i've had such a good career for the past 13 years but i just can't do it anymore, not without you here too. it just doesn't feel right, not with the thought of you sitting at home having to watch it all knowing that you can never come back again." you explained

- the phone call ended with you both in tears, adam stating that "i'm ok with you retiring if that's what you want to do, but i feel guilty about it." and you just stating "please don't feel guilty about it, honey. this is my decision. i'll be home tomorrow, i love you."

- when you finally got home the next morning and saw him, you could just tell that he was up all night thinking about it

- you went over and hugged him and you said "it's ok, it isn't your fault."

- it took him a few months to accept it fully, he secretly still had so much guilt over it though, but he let it go

- retirement life ended up being pretty good

- it took adam awhile to recollect himself after his neck injury, but after he did, he got right back on track

- he got roles in shows and movies, meanwhile you still did a few side things for wwe

- like training upcoming talent, doing commentary for PPVs, even helping write some stuff out for the creative department

- when adam returns to wwe, you are extremely nervous

- you would not be able to forgive yourself if he hurt himself out there

- but you watched him train his ass off and even helped him train, so you felt a little better about it

- but the nerves that hit you as you watched him get back in a ring and wrestle on a monitor in the gorilla were insane

- your hands were shaky for sure

- and you couldn’t help but silently cry, it was a mix of nerves and joy

- the obvious reason for the nerves

- but as for the joy, you were so happy seeing him back out there

- you knew how bad he had wanted this

- and you knew how much wrestling meant to him

- when he came back through the curtain you felt like you could finally breathe again

- he immediately came over to you

- adam knew how nervous you were about his return

- he pulled you into one of the tightest hugs

- when he pulled away he wiped away your tears

- “i’m ok”

- “i know you are, i was just worried”

- and then he pulled you into a hug again, this one lasting longer

- when he pulled away this time he gave you a kiss

- “i’m proud of you”

- but ANYWAYS

- i got carried away with the return thing

- BUT

- being his girlfriend is amazing though

- 10/10 would recommend

#edge wwe #edge x reader #edge fanfiction #edge fanfic #edge imagines #edge imagine #edge oneshots #edge wwe x reader #edge wwe fanfiction #edge wwe fanfic #edge wwe imagines #edge wwe imagine #edge wwe oneshots

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lcvernat · 2 years

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That Stupid Red String Part 3 | Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: You used to believe that you would never find your soulmate, but you did, and you couldn't be happier. Natasha Romanoff makes you the happiest person in the universe, and you just can't seem to comprehend how you had gotten so lucky.

AKA you and Natasha being the cutest soulmates ever for an entire fic.

Word Count: 6.6k

Content Warnings: soulmate au, gn!reader, so so so so much fluff it's disgusting, very brief mention of the red room/nat's past, brief mention of anxiety, definitely not canon compliant

A/N: you asked for it, i delivered. i am very sorry this took so long but either way i hope you enjoy this absolutely tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet, bundle of fluff fic. i can't do summaries for the life of me tbh but this is literally all fun and fluff. also if you're reading my ongoing series 'our tainted love', consider this my apology in advance for putting you all through a lot of angst in that series. comments and reblogs mean a lot to me so please tell me if you've enjoyed this!

The morning after confessing your love for Natasha Romanoff, you had woken up beside her, her limbs tangled with yours. Now, you'd been waking up like that for the past six months, and it still didn't feel real to you. Everything about it was so surreal. From actually finding your soulmate, to your soulmate being Natasha Romanoff and her miraculously reciprocating your feelings? You still couldn't comprehend how this was now your life. For the first two months of your relationship, you had asked Kya to pinch you multiple times because you truly don't know how you got so lucky.

It wasn't even the fact that Black Widow was your soulmate, you didn't care about that. You didn't care about her fancy title or her fancy job, all you cared about was the real Natasha. All you wanted to know was the real her, not the facade she put on for the public. You wanted to know the Natasha she was around the people she loved and trusted, the Natasha who didn't put on a mask, the Natasha who wasn't afraid to show her emotions. It had took her a while to truly open up to you, but you didn't mind. You were patient with her and always would be. Even now, six months into your relationship, you didn't know every side of Natasha. There were still parts of herself that she kept hidden from you, but you weren't worried about that. She'd show you every side of her when she was ready and you would wait years until that time if you had to.

"What are you thinking about?" Natasha whispered into your ear, her arm wrapped around your shoulder as you two sat together on the couch in the Avenger's Tower. It was a Friday, which meant it was the Avengers weekly movie night. Initially you had felt wrong about attending because all you really were was a doctor in the MedBay, not an Avenger, but you just couldn't resist Natasha as she pouted and pleaded with you to attend it all those months ago. Now you attended it every week.

"Just thinking about the fact that I had to have saved an entire world or something in my past life to get this lucky," you whispered back, smirking as you noticed the blush making it's way onto the redhead's face.

As you placed a quick kiss on her cheek you heard Tony dramatically gag, "That's disgusting. Get a room you two,"

Natasha rolled her eyes as she flipped Tony the bird, "You don't see us complaining when you're being all lovey-dovey with Pepper."

The man merely rolled his eyes, brushing Natasha off with a wave of his hand as he turned his attention back to the movie playing on the TV, some horror movie that Sam had suggested (you're not sure why he had suggested it though, considering a glance at the man showed him with his head buried into a pillow and his eyes squeezed tightly shut).

Natasha's head moved to lay on your shoulder as you turned your attention back to the movie.

An hour later and the credits started rolling. Sam visibly deflated, putting the cushion back in it's place as he stretched. "Well, that was a wonderful movie, wasn't it?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, "You've had your head buried in the pillow for the entire movie."

There was a collective chuckle from everyone as Sam rolled his eyes, "Whatever. You're all lame. I'm heading to bed."

"Wanna head to bed too?" You asked Natasha, silence being your only answer. You look down at her confused until you noticed her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling slowly. A smile made its way onto your face at the sight of her peacefully sleeping. You softly kissed her forehead, being careful not to wake her.

Tony walked past, and you were half expecting a snarky remark from him, but instead he said something that surprised you a lot, "You know, I don't think I've ever saw Natasha as happy as she's been since she's met you. You make her really happy, Y/N," he walked away before you could reply, leaving you there to process the bombshell he had just dropped.

A warm, fuzzy feeling runs through you, settling deep into your bones and every crevice of your body, your heart full of love and adoration for the redhead currently asleep on you. Deciding that you should both head to bed now, you very carefully untangle yourself from Natasha, standing up and stretching your arms before you place one arm under her knees and the other around her waist. You lift her up very carefully, hoping you don't wake her since she looks so peaceful sleeping and you don't want to disturb her. She stirs but fortunately, doesn't wake.

You successfully make it back to your shared room (it used to be Natasha's but when you two had finally started dating, she insisted you move in with her so you had moved all your things into her room and you now permanently reside in the tower) without waking up Natasha. You don't know how she hasn't woken up yet, since she's always so aware of her surroundings and the littlest noise could wake her up, but you're grateful either way.

Pulling the covers back, you gently set her down onto the bed before pulling the covers back over her. Kissing her forehead you mutter, "'Night, Natty," before moving to your side of the bed and lying down, quickly falling asleep.

"Be careful, okay?" You wrap your arms around Natasha's waist, placing your chin on her shoulder. She had to go on a mission with the team, which was no surprise considering it was her job, but it still left you with a pit of worry in your stomach every time she had to leave.

She turns around in your arms, forcing you to move your head. She wraps her arms around your neck and places a quick kiss on your lips, "I'm always careful,"

You raise an eyebrow, "Need me to remind you of how I found out you were my soulmate?" There was a hint of amusement in your voice as Natasha scoffs playfully.

"That was one time."

"Mhm, okay, and how about the other countless times? I felt every single one."

It used to be a touchy subject every time you brought it up and you knew Natasha still felt guilty about the years of pain you had to endure because of her, but you reminded her every single time that it wasn't her fault. She had started to believe that, just a bit. When she had eventually trusted you enough to tell you tiny snippets of her childhood, you had felt so many different emotions. Sadness for the pain she had endured and the childhood she had never got to experience, an overwhelming sense of protectiveness for her and also so, so much anger directed towards Dreykov. Natasha telling you that she had killed him herself brought comfort to you though. At least she had gotten revenge in the end.

Natasha broke you out of your train of thought by leaning her forehead against yours, "I'm sorry," she whispered gently, her breath fanning your face.

You roll your eyes but there's no hostility in the gesture, "I've told you countless times that it was fine. It wasn't your fault, angel. It's okay,"

She blushes at the pet name you've started calling her. You two lapse into silence for a couple of minutes, content in basking in each other's warmth. Natasha breaks the silence after a while, "You know I really gotta get going,"

"Do you though?"

She huffs out a laugh, "Unfortunately yes. I'll be back before you know it, promise,"

You admit defeat by nodding, "I guess I need to go down to the MedBay and get ready for your return then. And you better not be one of the people I need to patch up,"

Natasha rolls her eyes but there's still a soft smile on her face as she moves away from you. You grab her wrist and pull her back to kiss her once more.

She kisses you back quickly before laughing and moving away, "I really need to go, detka. Stop being so cute."

You huff, crossing your arms and pouting, "Fine. Go. Save the world or whatever. I'll be waiting to shower you with kisses when you come back."

Her laughter echoes off the walls of your shared room before she finally walks out to head to the Quinjet before Steve hunts her down and yells at her. You know you should be heading to the MedBay to make sure everything is ready in case any of the team gets injured on the mission, but you're rooted to the spot as you stare at the closed door that Natasha had just walked out of.

You are undoubtedly, hopelessly in love with Natasha Romanoff. You've known it for a while now. You're pretty sure you fell in love with her as soon as you set eyes on her, that fateful day at the Avenger's Event. When she had smirked at you, when she was so gentle and loving with Lillian, how could you not fall in love with her? Even if she wasn't your soulmate, you're 100% certain the outcome would've been the same.

You would've fallen in love with her either way, it was simply inevitable.

Thankfully, none of the team had returned from the mission severely injured. Sure, they were bruised and tired but that was nothing an icepack and some rest wouldn't fix. Honestly, you were always relieved when they came back mostly unharmed because having to see the team in pain or bleeding out was never an enjoyable experience, even if they were good sports and always tried to crack a joke as you stitched them up.

"Told you I'd be careful," Natasha smiled at you, currently lying on the bed wearing an old t-shirt of yours that she'd stolen at some point and a pair of shorts.

Taking your shirt off, you throw it at her (she lets it hit her square in the face even though she could've easily dodged it) before changing into some comfortable clothes and falling into bed beside her.

"I have a question," Natasha says.

"Shoot," you reply before grabbing her and pulling her on top of you.

A surprised giggle escapes her, her elbows resting on either side of your face as she leans above you. You lean up to kiss her as strands of auburn hair tickle your cheeks.

"Okay, I have to actually ask you something," Natasha pulls away reluctantly.

"Go ahead,"

"How would you feel about finally meeting my parents and sister?"

You splutter, shocked by how bluntly she had asked that sort of question. Meeting your soulmate's parents was a big thing. It was massive. Your soulmate is the person the universe has destined you to be with, who you're meant to be spending the rest of your life with. If your soulmate's parents don't like you well, then that's kind of awkward.

And to make the pressure worse, Natasha's family is far from normal. You haven't met Melina or Alexei yet, but Natasha has told you a few stories about them and you can't help but feel incredibly intimidated by them. Yelena you've only spoken to once, and it was through FaceTime. It was also accidental. You were unaware that Natasha was calling her and you had walked into the kitchen to grab a snack only to find the redhead on FaceTime with her sister. You'd tried to sneakily make your way back out, but somehow Yelena had heard you and had insisted she talk to you because she's 'heard so much about you'.

The blonde seemed nice from the five minute conversation you had with her, but you were also shitting yourself throughout the entirety of it because you really did not want to get on the bad side of a trained assassin and Yelena struck you as the very overprotective type. She'd said to you the clique, "If you hurt her, I'll kill you," line, but you had an inkling she wasn't joking about the killing part.

So, to put it in very simple terms: the thought of meeting Natasha's family in person was terrifying.

"Y/N?" Nat poked your cheek and you realized you'd been lost in thought, failing to answer her question.

You cleared your throat, "How do I feel about meeting a family of trained assassins who would literally hunt me down and kill me if I ever dared to hurt you? Hm, let me think,"

Natasha rolled her eyes, rolling off of you to lay beside you, "Oh come on, they love you,"

You turn on your side to face her, "They don't know me,"

"I've told them plenty of stories about you,"

The side of your mouth quirks up, "And were these all very flattering stories?"

A breathy laugh escapes her, "You're insufferable. But yes, they were," her gaze softens as she stares at you, "trust me, Y/N, they'll love you. Anyone would be insane not to love you," she reaches a hand out to cup your cheek and you lean into her touch.

"Okay," you agree finally, "I'll meet them. What's the worst that could happen?"

Your words cause a massive smile to take over Natasha's face, causing you to smile too. "Exactly," she moves closer to you and places a kiss on the tip of your nose, "thank you for agreeing," she whispers.

"Anything for you, my love."

You were going to throw up.

Staring in the mirror, looking at the outfit you had chosen to don for this occasion, you were fairly certain you were going to throw up. Meeting your girlfriend's parents was one thing, meeting your soulmate's parents was something else entirely and a hell of a lot more nerve-wracking. At least Kya had sent you a good luck message and she had reassured you that you'd be fine. You prayed she was right.

Natasha comes up behind you as you anxiously fiddle with your fingers. She wraps her arms around you, moving her hands down to grab ahold of yours to stop your fiddling.

"You look amazing," she murmurs into your ear, "don't worry."

"It's not the way I'm dressed that I'm worried about," you chuckle nervously.

She sighs before turning you around in her arms so you're facing her, "They'll love you, Y/N."

"I'm going to throw up."

"No you won't."

"No, I'm pretty sure I will."

Your stomach is really not on your side today, the constant somersaults it's doing really not helping the anxiety you're already feeling. Natasha holding you does help to ease your worries a tiny bit though.

She kisses you reassuringly, "You'll be fine, promise. But we really do need to get going or else we're going to be late."

You nod, "Yeah, I really don't wanna be late. That'd make me feel even more nervous."

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm yourself. It's not that big of a deal, you'll be fine. You've done more nerve-wracking things than a simple dinner with your soulmate's parents. It'll be fine.

On the drive to Melina and Alexei's house, you found yourself slowly growing less and less nervous. Especially with the reassuring presence of Natasha beside you. She'd told you while she was driving that even though Melina has a house in Russia, and they had bought the house that they spent 5 years in in Ohio, they had also insisted on buying a house in New York so 'they could be closer to their daughter to make sure she isn't getting into any trouble'. That had made you laugh, and you had laughed even harder when Natasha had sent an annoyed glance your way.

You finally arrived at their house, and you were eternally grateful that your stomach had miraculously stopped doing somersaults. Natasha reached over to give your hand a reassuring squeeze before you got out of the car and made your way to the front door.

The redhead's knock was instantly followed by a very enthusiastic barking on the other side. "That would be Fanny," Natasha chuckles.

"I'll get it, mama!" You hear the slightly muffled yet familiar voice call accompanied by some shuffling on the other side of the door, a "Get out of the way, Fanny," and seconds later the door swung open and you were greeted by Yelena, a massive smile on her face as she held onto Fanny's collar to prevent her from making a run for it.

"Come in, come in," She ushers you both in and closes the door behind you, letting go of Fanny's collar as the dog instantly makes her way over to you, jumping up on her hind legs and wagging her tail.

"Hi," you smile at the dog before petting it.

Yelena gives her sister a hug, "How have you been?"

Natasha returns the hug, "Same old, same old. Saving the world and all that."

You turn to Natasha as Fanny starts to sniff your shoes, "Why have I been categorized as 'same old'? I'm offended."

Before she can respond to your quip some more footsteps are heard down the hall, "Natasha! Come here, come here!" Melina walks down the corridor and engulfs her daughter in a massive hug.

Melina turns to you then and you smile nervously, "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Vostokoff,"

"Y/N!" The woman smiles at you brightly before engulfing you in a hug too, "It's so great to finally meet you. We've had our ears talked off about you by Natasha. And please, call me Melina."

You look at the redhead who blushes and turns away, suddenly finding Fanny very interesting.

"Is the famous Y/N finally here?" A booming voice calls from what you think is the kitchen, and seconds later a bulky man comes into view. "Aha! So it is!" He says once his eyes land on you.

"Dad-" Natasha starts, exasperated, but is cut off by Alexei, who shushes her and makes his way over to you. He wraps his arms around you, giving you a bear hug and you're pretty sure you just heard at least 2 ribs crack. He lets go of you and pats your back with so much force that you can't help but stumble forward.

"It's so great to finally be able to meet you! Natasha has said so-"

"Mama has already mentioned that," Natasha's face has turned as red as her hair and you can't help but snort even as she turns to you and gives you a death glare. You reach forward and squeeze her hand.

"Okay, let's all move to the kitchen instead of taking up room here," Melina ushers all five of you, including Fanny, into the kitchen, and the instant you walk into the place, the delicious aroma of food makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble.

"The food is nearly ready and the table's been set, so make yourself at home," Melina smiles warmly at you before heading over to the oven to most likely check on the food.

You, Natasha, Alexei and Yelena make your way over to the table to sit down, Fanny trailing behind you. The dog makes its way under the table, her fur tickling your legs as she walks past you.

"So," Alexei starts, his hands joined in front of him as he leans over the table to stare at you, "how have you been treating my daughter?"

"Um," you start, feeling very much like you're being interrogated right now, "your daughter is an amazing human being, and I've treated her as best as I possibly can. Truthfully, I'd give her the whole world if I could and I'm forever grateful that she's my soulmate. I truly don't know how I got so lucky, and I'll treat her like a queen until the day I die."

Alexei nods approvingly and Natasha squeezes your hand under the table. You spare her a glance to find the beginning of what you hope are happy tears in her eyes as she smiles at you.

"Gross," Yelena jokes before turning serious, "I like you, Y/N. I think I can trust you with my sestra, but do you remember what I told you on the FaceTime call?"

"If I hurt her, you'll kill me,"

She nods, "And I wasn't joking about the killing part."

"Yeah, I gathered that," you laugh as Yelena smiles innocently at you.

Melina joins the group a minute later with multiple dishes in her hands. She sets them down in the middle of the table before going back and returning with even more dishes, a bottle of vodka and some water for Natasha because obviously she couldn’t drink if she was driving. "Dig in, everyone, there's a lot to go around," she says, "I wasn't sure what you liked, Y/N. So we have a wide variety. There's some beef stroganoff, lasagne, mashed potatoes, veggies, sausages, chicken and mac and cheese with hot sauce, for Yelena."

Your mouth starts watering a concerning amount as she lists off all the options, and you're honestly shocked she went out of her way to make that much. "This is like a buffet," you laugh, "thank you. Wow." You're at a lost for words so all you can do is grab a bit of everything and dig in.

The conversation flows steadily around the table. Melina, Alexei and Yelena ask you questions about your life, your job, all the generic questions you'd usually ask your daughter's partner when you meet them for the first time. They also revealed some very funny childhood stories about Natasha (much to her chagrin), which made you laugh a lot and also feel grateful that you were able to get this insight into some part of your soulmate's childhood and her family.

Honestly, you have to appreciate how they all refer to each other as if they were an actual family. Even though none of them are actually related, you honestly wouldn't even notice if they didn't tell you. They act so much like a real family that it's adorable, and you're really happy for Natasha that she finally got this family back together.

You take a sip of your vodka and you can't help but scrunch up your face as it goes down, burning your throat. "So," you try to speak but are instead overcome by a coughing fit. God, how did these people drink vodka like it was water?

Natasha thumps you on the back and you give her a thumbs up in thanks, your eyes watering.

"I was starting to like Y/N, but now I might change my mind if they can't handle their vodka," Alexei says. You would probably worry if his tone wasn't so obviously meant to be teasing.

"It burns," you gasp out, making everyone at the table laugh, "how do you Russians handle it?"

"We came out of the womb drinking vodka," Yelena says.

"Anyway," you quickly change the subject once you've gotten your bearings back, eager to save yourself from any more embarrassment about not being able to handle your vodka, "how is it with your daughter as an Avenger?" You ask, "Like, I find myself worrying about her every time she goes on a mission even though I know she's amazing at her job and will be okay, but I still can't help but worry, so I can't imagine what that's like for you as her family."

"Oh yeah, I definitely get that. But Natasha knows that if she ever dies on the job I'd drag her back to life myself just so I could kill her again," Yelena says, Melina and Alexei nodding in agreement as Natasha shakes her head amusedly.

"Love you too, Lena,"

You let out a laugh as you lean back in your seat, content in just listening to the conversation between the four as you let your food settle. You really don't know why you were so worried, this night couldn't have gone any better. And you're fairly certain Melina and Alexei like you, at least you hoped they did and weren't just putting on an act. Yelena seemed to have taken a liking to you too, which you were glad about because you happened to have grown a liking to her too. Fanny also seemed to like you, the dog content in curling up at your feet for the entire meal.

All in all, you are infinitely glad that you've gotten their approval. You reach over to grab Natasha's hand under the table, interlocking your fingers together. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye, giving your hand a squeeze as she smiles gently at you.

You find yourself wondering again how you managed to get so lucky.

“See? Told you they’d love you,” Natasha says, sparing you a quick glance.

You two were on the drive back to the tower, warmth flooding through your veins both from the vodka and the knowledge that the night had went as best as you could’ve possibly hoped for. You had gotten a big hug from all three of them before you left, and they had each shared their phone numbers with you in case you ever wanted to talk (Alexei had even sent you a photo of little Nat with her adorable blue hair as soon as you had driven away which you were very grateful for). You were so thankful that they had accepted you into their family as quickly as they had.

“Mhm,” you agree, leaning your head against the window, “I don’t know what I was so worried about.”

Natasha hums in agreement before you two lapse into silence, the only sounds being the steady hum of the car and the faint noise of whatever radio channel Natasha had turned on.

Your breaths fog up the window as your eyelids start to droop, feeling utterly exhausted for some reason even though you didn’t really do anything that strenuous today. Unless you counted absolutely devouring Melina’s cooking, your stomach so full it almost feels like it’s about to burst.

“You know who Yelena reminds me of?” You ask even as your eyelids start to close of their own accord.

“Who?” Natasha spares you another quick glance, a gentle smile making its way onto her face when she notices your half asleep form. She taps the steering wheel with her fingers as she awaits your response, which takes a lot longer than is probably necessary since your brain is already halfway to unconsciousness.

When you finally do respond, your answer makes Natasha laugh, “Kya. I think they’d be really good friends.”

“A force to be reckoned with, more like,”

“Mhm,” is the only response your brain seems capable of making before you’ve fallen asleep and the only thing you remember hearing before sleep overtook you was Natasha saying goodnight.

Let’s just say you weren’t the least bit surprised when you had woken up the next morning in your own bed, Natasha sound asleep beside you (Tony had managed to sneak a photo of Natasha carrying you to your shared room, the redhead looking at you with a love shining in her eyes that was so raw and pure it had made Tony wonder whether he looked at Pepper that way. He was sure to stash the photo away for safekeeping until he could show you it, and also so he could use it as evidence against Natasha every time she claimed she was a ‘big bad assassin’, because even if she may be a very terrifying and intimidating individual, she is still also simultaneously an extremely whipped woman).

Your one year anniversary with Natasha came quicker than you had expected, and it was honestly quite shocking that all of this had happened in the span of a year. She had made your life so much better, you were so much more happier now and you hoped that you had also made her just a tiny bit happier too.

For some reason, the team plus Kya and Natasha's family had all decided to declare this day a massive holiday worth celebrating, which is why you were all currently sat in the living room of the tower, catching up and laughing over some drinks. They had also been showing photos they had took of you and Natasha (Tony had finally been able to show you the photo he snapped of Natasha carrying you, and honestly, the amount of love in her eyes had made yours fill with tears as you looked at it), sharing cute moments that they recalled seeing of you two and lightheartedly complaining that you two were so cute together it was literally sickening.

Of course, you and Natasha had also wanted to celebrate your one year anniversary with just the two of you, so you had went out to dinner earlier in the evening, but you weren't necessarily complaining that all of your friends (Kya still freaked out every time you casually mentioned one of the Avengers as your 'friend') had decided to get together to celebrate your relationship.

"It feels like it's been ages since we've hung out," Kya says as she sits down beside you, Natasha having left to stop Clint from showing Yelena embarrassing photos of her he had captured over the years.

You nod in agreement, "I know, but you've been so busy lately, and then I've been working in the MedBay and our schedules just don't align. How's Lillian?"

You and Kya tried to call each other at least once a week to catch up, but she had been overloaded with shifts at the hospital recently that there's hardly been any time to catch up, which honestly sucks because she's still your best friend and you don't know what you'd do without her. Technically, she is the reason that you had found out Natasha was your soulmate. If it wasn't for her obnoxious begging, you probably would've never applied for a job at the MedBay and would've lived the rest of your life not knowing who your soulmate was. It's weird how fate works, isn't it?

"She's doing great, still hasn't gotten used to the fact that Black Widow is basically only a phone call away yet, and she's still as obsessed with her as she ever was," Kya chuckles, causing you to laugh too, "but yeah, she's doing great."

You hum before taking a sip of your drink, content in just watching everyone talk and laugh together. Yelena runs past you, laughing like a maniac as she clutches a phone, which you have reason to believe is Clint's, in her hand. Your eyebrow raises in slight confusion which quickly dissipates as Natasha runs after her a split second later, looking equally embarrassed and annoyed.

Looking over at Clint, you give him a questioning look which he only answers with a shrug of his shoulders and a mischievous smile. You shake your head in amusement before Yelena comes running back over to you, "Y/N! Look at this hilarious photo of Nat!" She thrusts the phone in front of your face to show you a photo of a younger, clearly very drunk Natasha completely knocked out on the floor of the Barton's home. You burst out laughing seconds before Natasha comes running back over, making Yelena yelp and run away again.

Natasha stops temporarily in front of you, "What photo did she show you?" She asks, barely out of breath even though you're pretty sure she's been chasing Yelena all around the tower.

"Hm? A photo of what? She didn't show me a photo of anything," You look at her innocently, taking another sip of your drink. You're very aware she can see right through your act but it's still amusing as she glares at you before running after Yelena again.

Kya smiles at you, nudging you with her elbow, "I'm really happy for you. I'm glad you've found not only your soulmate, but also two amazing, albeit slightly unconventional, families. You definitely look a lot happier now too,"

Throwing your arm around your best friend's shoulders, you bring her in for a side hug, "Thank you. This literally wouldn't have happened without you though, you know that? So maybe you should just start calling yourself Cupid,"

She hums, "Maybe I should. I seem to be pretty amazing at it,"

The heartfelt moment with your best friend was quickly broken by Yelena's yell, "HELP! SOMEONE SAVE ME!"

Everyone turns their heads at the same time to see what exactly had made Yelena scream bloody murder, only to find her pinned on the ground by none other than Natasha. You all turn your heads back in unison, everyone starting to talk animatedly at each other and leaving Yelena to fend for herself (no one wise in the head would get in Natasha Romanoff's way), and you're pretty sure you vaguely hear her curse you all in Russian.

You may now be apart of two unusual families, but you find yourself knowing for certain that you wouldn't change it for the world.

"Nat?" You question confused, "Why'd you call me up here? Is everything okay?"

Earlier you had gotten a very urgent text message from Nat, demanding you meet her on the roof of the tower at 9pm, which is what you had done. Your mind had been going a mile a minute since you'd gotten the text, going through different what ifs and possibilities for why she had called you up here. Was she finally, after two years of your relationship, calling it off? Was the spark not there for her anymore? You don't know whether it's normal or not for soulmates to lose their love for each other, you assume it probably is normal, sometimes you just don't click with the other person even if they are your soulmate. You thought you and Natasha had fit together perfectly though, like you both had been missing a part of yourselves until you met each other. Maybe you were wrong though, maybe Natasha didn't feel the same way. Why would she wait so long to tell you though?

She turns around and smiles at you, but she looks nervous which makes your stomach sink with dread. Natasha Romanoff never looked nervous, never. You've never saw her nervous before. This was bad, it had to be.

"Nat?" You say again cautiously.

The redhead lets out a deep breath before ushering you over, "Come here,"

You walk closer to her and slowly reach out to take ahold of her hand, just in case maybe she really was breaking up with you. Thankfully she didn't flinch or move back and instead intertwined her hand with yours, "Are you okay?" You ask, "You seem nervous."

"I'm sorry," she says, "It's just, I- I really don't know how to do this, but it's," she takes another deep breath, "okay, okay, right, I'll just do it. It's fine. I've done things a lot more life threatening than this and I wasn't nervous about that," she seems to be talking more to herself than to you, and that makes you even more scared. Why was she so nervous? It was making you nervous.

"Just say it, whatever it is,"

She nods, "Okay, so I had a speech planned and everything, but I've completely forgotten it which is so weird and I don't know why this is making me so nervous. Seriously, this is how the Black Widow gets defeated? Why is this what makes me nervous? Sorry, I'm rambling," you can't help but chuckle at that, because even if she was making you very nervous right now, her rambling was undeniably adorable. It was a side to her that you never even knew existed, and you're pretty sure she didn't know it existed either until right now.

"Y/N Y/L/N," she starts again, sounding more confident now, "ever since you've came into my life I have been so much happier. It's funny, really, because I had went my entire life believing I just didn't have a soulmate. I didn't think I deserved one. Well, I believed I didn't deserve to be loved in general. You taught me that I was wrong, though. I don't know whether you meant to do it or not but, with every little sign of affection you showed me, you made me feel that maybe I was worthy of being loved and being in love," your breath hitches as you start to slowly figure out where this might be going, "everyone in the team is right when they say that I am completely whipped for you. I am literally hopelessly in love with you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm not lying when I say that. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I know we're kind of expected to do just that because we're soulmates, but even if you weren't my soulmate I would still want to spend the rest of my life with you,"

She gets down on one knee then, taking a small box out of her jean pocket and tears fill your eyes, quickly overflowing and sliding down your cheeks as you realize your assumption was correct. Your hands move up to cover your mouth in shock.

Natasha smiles sheepishly, looking a bit nervous again even though you're not sure why because you're obviously going to say yes, "Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

You nod frantically, not trusting yourself to speak without either your voice cracking or just incoherent sobs coming out of your mouth. You simply hold your hand out in front of her and she gets the message, sliding the ring onto your ring finger. Natasha stands up, smiling at you and you can't help but notice that she's also crying. She pulls you into a bone crushing hug full of complete love and adoration.

You pull back after a few minutes only to cup her cheeks and bring her in for a deep kiss. Of course you've kissed each other plenty of times, but this kiss is different somehow. It's earth-shattering, it's like fireworks going off, it's like drinking hot chocolate on a cold winters day, the warmth flowing through your body and making you feel happy and content. Time seems to stop, the only thing mattering right now is her lips on yours. It's fierce but soft, desperate but passionate and your knees almost give in with the force of it. Your hands tangle in her fiery locks as Natasha's hand snakes around your waist. When your lungs scream for air, you reluctantly pull away, resting your forehead against hers.

"I love you so, so, so, so, much," you whisper into the very little space between you both.

"I love you more," she replies.

"No, I love you more."

"I love you most."

"I love you mostest."

"That is not a word," Natasha chuckles.

"It is now," you smile from ear to ear before kissing the tip of her nose.

You two stand like that for a few minutes, content in just basking in each other's warmth and the knowledge that you're getting married now. Kya is going to freak, and also probably be very smug because this was her doing.

You're about to begin a whole new chapter of your life, and you couldn't be more excited for it. It doesn't scare you, because as long as you have Natasha by your side, you're certain you'll be able to get through anything.

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