#also. take a a shot every time i describe nymphia as some variation of ‘twinkly’ in my fics. black out guaranteed.

[mappingthesky]

short sequel to the angst prompt please! the moment jane finally says “i love you”

after ' i know baby, no attachment', i think our girls deserve a lil sweetness, yes? here's this <3

fuck it, i love you

“Thank you,” Nymphia says when Jane starts the car. “For doing that with me.”

Jane looks over to the passenger seat. They’re just leaving Nymphia’s friend’s apartment, and the sun is just setting, and there are so many things Jane loves about Nymphia.

She loves how the golden hour is hitting her face, turning the brown of her eyes blood orange and beautiful. She loves what she finds there - that knowing glimmer in Nymphia’s gaze, the one that says so much more than words can, a secret language just for them to know. She loves how patient Nymphia is with her, even when Jane doesn’t deserve it. She loves that Nymphia has been willing to give her a chance, that she trusts Jane enough to let her hold her heart. She loves that Nymphia makes scary things feel less so, like meeting your girlfriend’s friends when you’re the last person who should ever be brought home to meet anyone. Jane loves that Nymphia wanted to bring her anyways. That she made it so easy. 

“They like you.” Nymphia’s smile reaches her eyes. Another thing Jane loves. “I can tell.”

“Yeah?” Jane asks. She loves that Nymphia is so obviously adored, that her friends spent the last two hours interrogating Jane thoroughly, loves them for caring so much. “I like them too.” Jane smiles, takes Nymphia’s hand as she drives.

“I’m glad you came with me,” Nymphia chews on her cheek. She’s speaking softly, tenderly, and Jane knows she means it. “I, um. I know it was a big step. For you. So thank you.”

 “You don’t need to thank me.” Jane brings Nymphia’s hand to her mouth, kisses her knuckles. “I’m glad I did too.”

Summer in the city is killer. The sun has just set and the streets have not yet cooled, and the breeze from the passenger’s side is just barely a relief. Jane would turn the air on, but Nymphia is leaning out the open window, and it's such a beautiful moment that she doesn’t have the heart to end it. She’s too busy, anyways, noticing more things she loves. She loves Nymphia’s laugh; loud and twinkling and just for Jane, like everything she says is actually that funny. How she throws her head back and her eyes squeeze shut, full lips pulled over bright, beaming teeth, how she laughs and somehow Jane is laughing too. She loves how touchy Nymphia is, how she’s always finding her way back to Jane even when they’re inches apart - locking their pinkies together, tracing her jawline, still holding her hand while she floats the other through the open window. The wind flutters through Nymphia’s hair, and Jane can smell her perfume. She loves that too.

They pull up to a red light and the slowing of the car reduces the breeze to nothingness. Nymphia whines, mumbles something about the heat. Jane loves that she doesn’t want any of it to end - not this car ride, not this perfect night, not her and Nymphia. She looks at her and knows she needs this to last longer, much longer.

“Want ice cream?”

Nymphia turns, beams. Jane loves this too - making Nymphia happy. She likes to think she could be good at it. She wants to be. 

Nymphia is giggling around a spoonful of strawberry ice cream. They’re sharing a banana split on a bench beside the ice cream shop, sitting criss-cross applesauce across from one another, bathed in the glow of the streetlamp overhead. Jane loves Nymphia’s insatiable sweet tooth, which sends them in search of bubble tea or strawberry shortcake or malted milkshakes at odd hours of the night. Jane loves that these escapades are becoming something like a routine for them, that Nymphia has a way of turning everything into an adventure. Jane loves how Nymphia fills up her days. These hours didn’t feel empty before, but Jane never wants them back to herself ever again. It’s much better this way.

Jane watches Nymphia dip back into the sundae, spoonfuls of strawberry sauce and whipped cream and peanuts. The same side, over and over.

“You’re not eating the pineapple.”

Nymphia answers plainly, like it's obvious. “Yeah. Cuz’ you like the pineapple the best.”

It’s nothing really. It's just an observation, but there’s something about it that leaves Jane a little awe-struck, because Nymphia is absolutely right about pineapple being Jane’s favorite, and Jane has never mentioned it once. Nymphia just knows, because Nymphia pays attention, even to the things Jane doesn’t say. Jane loves that this is what it comes to; she loves that someone cares this much about her, and she loves that that someone is Nymphia. More than anything, Jane loves the thing that shines through every one of Nymphia’s actions, a bright and undoubtable glow - that she loves Jane, loves her like it's easy for her to do.

“What?” Nymphia tilts her head, eyes glittering, sucking on the plastic spoon. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

Jane smiles. It comes out easily, because it’s meant to. “I just love you.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and Nymphia’s eyes go wide. Everything is quiet for a second. Nymphia’s spoon floats, forgotten. 

“Jane” she says. It’s almost a whimper, Nymphia’s voice strained with feeling. Her eyes are starry with what could be tears but aren’t yet, and Jane is suddenly a bit nervous.

“I mean it,” Jane goes a bit concerned in the eyes, searching Nymphia for any indicator of where she might’ve misstepped. “You know that, don't you?”

“I know,” Nymphia sputters, laughing and sending a meteor shower of happy tears streaking down her cheeks. She smiles and it’s like the sun is setting all over again, beaming bright and golden and warm at the edge of a perfect night. “I know you mean it. That’s why I’m so..” she waves her hands, gesturing at some emotional grandeur she can’t name. It’s not just her; there aren’t words for feelings this big. 

She finally lands on, “Happy.” It’s nowhere near close to the enormity of the feeling, but it’ll do. “I’m so happy,” Nymphia repeats, this gleaming smile on her face like she’s lit from within. It sort of makes Jane want to cry too. 

“Me too,” Jane says, and it's still nowhere near enough, and it doesn't matter because they both know. “I’ve never been this happy.”

And then Nymphia is cupping Jane’s face in the glow of the streetlight and kissing her, every word on the tip of her tongue more tangible in this kiss than they ever could be out loud. Jane just barely pulls away, just enough to make room for words:

“Was it worth the wait?”

“Shut up,” Nymphia says, already pulling her back for more. Later, more breathlessly, “you’re worth every wait.”