crush imagines (he/him crush)

proposal #2

A/N: People were asking for a part two, so I edited the first one to continue it. This is a different scenario. Hope you enjoy :)

There were some days when Y/N was particularly beautiful. Spectacularly beautiful. Ethereal. 

It was those days that I felt an intense feeling in my chest: some mix of mania, the urge to protect, and cuteness aggression. I wanted to have her with me no matter where I went, just to feel safe and feel that she was safe. I wanted to bury my head in the crook of her arm and feel her chest rise and fall with her breath. I wanted all of her all of the time, on those days. 

I had to propose on a day like that. She was beautiful every day, of course, and no matter what came to pass, I always loved her. But on those spectacular days, I had no doubt in my mind that I wouldn't be complete without her. 

Picnics really were a wonderful practice. There were so many ways to bond, and so many experiences to share. Y/N and I had our first date on a picnic by the riverside, sitting under a maple tree with a spread of fruit and deserts. That was the day she'd gotten a bloody nose, and I'd held the collar of my shirt under her nose because she didn't want to ruin the nice cloth napkins I'd brought to impress her. Her warm breath spreading under my shirt had sent waves of excitement tingling down my spine. I could smell her shampoo, lemongrass-coconut. When I finally gave in and pressed a kiss to her head, the deal had been sealed. She'd had to put up with me ever since, and I intended to make that "ever" into a forever. 

This picnic was a little different. I hastily found a secluded spot about an hour from the city, where we could apparently spot rabbits and deer as we ate. Y/N's eyes lit up every time she saw a deer, her brow softening as she reached out a hand to summon it. The adorable disappointment on her face when the critters scuttled away from her was almost too much to bear. I fondled the ring in my pocket to keep myself from making out with her. 

Y/N was wearing a dress she'd been talking about for weeks. Her favorite Etsy seller had made it custom for her, and it was worth the investment— it hugged her body in a way that I'd never seen. I wanted her in that dress during my proposal. I wanted her to be wearing something that made her happy. That made both of us happy.

She chattered on about her love of bees as she unpacked our sandwiches, kicking off her sandals and cozying up against me. I moved the ring from the pocket that was touching her hip in one swift motion, launching into a fit of denial when she asked about my fiddly nature. 

"It's nothing. Just an itch," I blurted, smiling unsuspectingly as she shot me a doubtful look. 

Thankfully, the scenery came to my rescue, diverting Y/N's attention away from my pockets and back to the external glory of the forest. I opened a bottle of elderflower lemonade and poured her a glass. She took a sip and looked up at me with starry eyes. 

"I'd still love you if you were broke," she began. "But this—" 

She held up her glass, her ring finger glaringly bare. 

"—This is a plus." 

I laughed and ran my hand along her thigh, tracing the stretch marks that made beautiful little rivers as they neared her pelvis. 

Suddenly, things were hard. When was it the right moment? When would we be in the right position? Panic set in, making my hand stop above her knee, tense. 

And then she did it. She placed her hand on top of mine. 

I relaxed, and I knew. 

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," I murmured, feeling myself shrivel as she peeled herself away from my side. She kneeled across from me, smiling that smile she saved for me and me only. 

"Shoot," she responded. 

"...Y/N, I—" I paused. No matter how many times I rehearsed it, it would never sound real enough unless it was improvised. 

"I've always had this fantasy. It's a domestic thing, something I developed after watching my parents and such. I want, more than anything in the world, to be packing the car for a family road trip with my wife.

We would load the kid, or kids, into the car, have a nice little snack bag, and make a playlist together. And we'd pack a shared suitcase and have shared toiletries. It's so simple, yet it seemed so far. 

And for all these years, the woman in this imagined world has remained faceless, nameless. Just a moving figure with a contagious laugh. But now I can see her clearly, and I know her name.

 Y/N L/N. 

Now this fantasy is in reach. I'd be an idiot not to make it happen. So, Y/N L/N, my amazing partner in crime... would you do me the honor of being my forever road trip partner?" 

Y/N sat there with her mouth wide open, looking at me in awe. Finally, she grinned. 

"Jesus, C/N, you never told me you were a fucking poet!" 

She laughed and shook her head. 

"That was amazing!" She seemed to catch herself, slapping her hands against her mouth. 

"Oh, shit! Yes. Yes, obviously. To your question." 

In that moment, my joy swallowed me, engulfing me in a blanket of relief and giddiness. I reached out and pressed my lips to hers, wonderfully aware that this was a historic moment in our story. 

The best part was, I wasn't surprised at her answer. We were on the same wavelength about some things. Our bond seemed to be one of them.