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w1w2 · 20 days ago

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Number One Girl

Sequel of Stay A Little Longer

Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 10k

Synopsis: Two years after their painful breakup, Y/N and Roseanne cross paths again, reigniting unresolved emotions and a love they thought was lost.

Rosé - number one girl "Your one and only So what's it gon' take for you to want me?"

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

October arrived with a crisp chill, painting Seoul in hues of amber and gold. Y/N sat on the edge of her sofa, nursing a warm cup of tea as the sun dipped below the skyline, its fading light spilling into her apartment. The room exuded quiet comfort, the kind of space carefully curated to feel like home, but even its warmth couldn’t banish the faint ache in her chest.

Two years had passed since she packed her life into boxes and walked away from the only person who had ever truly known her. Yet, the memory of Roseanne lingered like a bittersweet melody, refusing to fade completely.

Y/N traced the rim of her mug absently, her gaze fixed on the framed photograph sitting on the bookshelf across the room. It was one of the few relics she hadn’t packed away after their breakup. The image was of Hank, Rosie’s dog, sitting between them on a bright summer day. Their smiles in the picture were carefree, unguarded. It hurt to look at it, but she couldn’t bring herself to hide it away.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, jolting her from her thoughts. She reached for it, her brows furrowing as a flood of notifications lit up the screen.

“Rosé’s New Single Featuring Bruno Mars Takes Charts by Storm!”

“Party Anthem of the Year: Rosé Dominates with Latest Release!”

Y/N clicked on one of the headlines almost reflexively. A glossy photo of Roseanne lit up the screen, her radiant smile and confident aura commanding attention. The article praised her electrifying performance and the catchy hook of her new single, calling it a global sensation. Y/N’s lips quirked into a faint smile despite herself. She could almost hear Rosie’s voice, layered over the infectious beat, as she read the glowing reviews.

Scrolling further, she found a video clip of an interview. Against her better judgment, she pressed play. Roseanne appeared on screen, her blonde hair falling in effortless waves around her face. She looked poised but carried a familiar warmth in her demeanor as she talked about the creative process behind the song.

“It’s a little different from what I’ve done before,” Roseanne admitted with a laugh. “But I wanted something fun, something that made people want to move.”

The sight of her, so vibrant, so magnetic, sent a pang through Y/N’s chest. She set the phone down, staring at the floor as memories stirred unbidden.

The nights spent in their tiny apartment came rushing back. Roseanne perched on the couch with her guitar, the melody of an unfinished song drifting through the room, Y/N’s attempts to distract her with jokes, or bribe her with takeout when the creative process ran long. The way Rosie’s laughter would fill the space, a sound Y/N once thought she could never live without.

Her chest tightened. She shook her head, willing the memories away. What was the point of dwelling on a past she couldn’t change?

The shrill ring of her phone cut through her thoughts. She glanced at the screen. Jennie.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before answering. “Hey, Jen.”

“Hey, stranger,” Jennie’s familiar voice chimed on the other end, cheerful and warm. The sound was a welcome break in Y/N’s otherwise quiet evening, and she couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Don’t tell me you’re working late again.”

“I’m not,” Y/N replied, sinking further into the couch and tucking her legs beneath her. “Just… having a quiet evening.”

Jennie hummed knowingly, a playful lilt in her voice. “You? Quiet evening? That’s code for sulking alone with Netflix and takeout, isn’t it?”

Y/N huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “You caught me. Minus the takeout.”

“Well, I’ve got the perfect way to change that,” Jennie declared. There was a note of triumph in her tone, as if she had been planning this all along. “I’m hosting a little gathering this weekend at my house. Just a small thing with close friends. Good food, good drinks, no pressure.”

Y/N leaned her head against the back of the couch, letting the words sink in. She could already picture Jennie in her kitchen, effortlessly juggling appetizers and cocktails while effortlessly charming everyone in the room. The image was comforting, but the idea of being around people again still gave her pause.

“I don’t know, Jennie,” she said hesitantly, her voice soft. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone to something like that.”

“That’s exactly why you should come,” Jennie pressed, her voice dropping into that persuasive tone Y/N knew too well. “You’ve been holed up for way too long. Besides, it’s not a big party or anything. Just us, close friends, no drama, no stress. You’ll have fun, I promise.”

Y/N bit her lip, toying with the edge of the blanket draped over her lap. She knew Jennie meant well, and a part of her did want to go. It had been too long since she’d seen Jennie, too long since she’d let herself just… exist in the company of others.

After the breakup, Jennie had been a lifeline. She was the one who dragged Y/N out of bed on her worst days, who sent random memes to make her laugh, who showed up with coffee and snacks when Y/N needed them most. Jennie had been one of the few constants in Y/N’s life when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

Y/N sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Alright,” she said finally. “I’ll come.”

“Yes!” Jennie’s excited cheer was so loud that Y/N had to pull the phone away from her ear. “I promise you won’t regret it. And dress cute, I know you’ve been living in sweatpants, but this is a chance to remind everyone how amazing you are. Got it?”

“Got it,” Y/N replied, laughing softly at Jennie’s relentless enthusiasm.

“Great! I’ll text you the details. See you then!”

The call ended with a click, leaving Y/N staring at her phone. For the first time in what felt like ages, a flicker of anticipation broke through the lingering melancholy that had become her constant companion. She set the phone down and leaned back against the cushions, her mind already racing with thoughts about the weekend.

She trusted Jennie to keep things relaxed, to make the evening as effortless as she had promised. And though Y/N was apprehensive about stepping out of her cocoon of solitude, she also felt a small, hopeful spark at the idea of reconnecting with old friends.

What Y/N didn’t know, what Jennie hadn’t mentioned, was that Roseanne would also be there.

Jennie’s villa stood like a beacon of modern luxury in the heart of UN Village, its large windows spilling warm golden light into the cool October evening. Y/N approached the entrance with hesitant steps, adjusting the sleeves of her suit jacket. The outfit was simple yet striking, a fitted, single-button blazer in a deep charcoal gray paired with cropped trousers and a soft cream blouse left casually untucked at one side. Her choice of white sneakers added a laid-back edge, balancing the look between casual and elegant.

She paused to smooth her hair, inhaling deeply before stepping up to the door. The crisp evening air carried faint hints of autumn leaves and laughter from inside, a stark contrast to the quiet she had grown used to.

Jennie greeted her the moment she stepped inside, her sharp eyes immediately sweeping over Y/N with an approving smile. “Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence!”

Y/N rolled her eyes lightly but couldn’t help smiling. “You act like I’m impossible to get a hold of.”

“You practically are,” Jennie teased, pulling her into a warm hug. As she stepped back, her gaze lingered appreciatively. “But seriously, you look amazing. Who knew you could make a suit look that good?”

A flush crept up Y/N’s neck, and she laughed softly. “Just trying something different.”

“Well, keep doing it,” Jennie said with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s. “Now, come on. I have to show you off, and make sure you grab a drink before the others steal all my attention.”

The villa was alive with energy. Guests filled the spacious living room and spilled out onto the terrace, where a fire pit crackled beneath the night sky. Soft jazz played in the background, mingling with the sound of glasses clinking and cheerful chatter. Y/N recognized several familiar faces: Irene and Seulgi of Red Velvet chatting by the bar, Nayeon and Jihyo from Twice laughing over drinks, and the unmistakable presence of actress Hoyeon Jung, effortlessly stunning in a tailored suit.

Jennie guided her through the crowd, expertly navigating the lively buzz of the gathering. With each stop, she introduced Y/N to a mix of familiar faces and new ones, her effortless charm putting everyone at ease. “Help yourself to anything,” Jennie said after a brief introduction to an indie actor Y/N vaguely recognized. She gestured toward the lavish spread of food and drinks set up in the dining area. “Seriously, make yourself at home, okay? No standing awkwardly in corners allowed.”

Y/N chuckled and nodded, appreciating Jennie’s genuine warmth and the gentle nudge. But even as she made her way to the long table laden with delicate appetizers and sparkling drinks, the faint unease in her chest refused to dissipate.

The villa was alive with conversation and laughter, the atmosphere light and inviting. Yet, as Y/N reached for a glass of wine, her fingers brushed against the stem awkwardly, betraying the nervous energy she was trying to suppress. She scanned the room, the elegant furnishings and glimmering lights blending into a soft blur of activity.

She tried to shake it off, telling herself it was just the unfamiliarity of being around so many people again. But deep down, she knew it was more than that.

After browsing the appetizers, choosing a small plate more for something to do than actual hunger, Y/N slipped toward the terrace doors. The cool glass felt grounding beneath her fingertips as she stepped just shy of the threshold, a glass of wine in hand. She watched the guests gathered outside, their laughter rising against the backdrop of the flickering fire pit. The golden light danced over their faces, casting warm, moving shadows.

The open air and soft hum of conversation were comforting. She exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders relax for the first time that evening. Maybe Jennie was right. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

Her mind began to drift as she sipped her wine. Flashes of memories bubbled up, late nights spent laughing in another cozy setting, another warm space filled with music and quiet intimacy. Y/N quickly shook the thoughts away, focusing instead on the present, the firelight, the soft glow of fairy lights strung along the terrace railing.

She was just beginning to let the tension melt when it happened, a subtle shift in the energy of the room.

It was almost imperceptible at first, like the faintest ripple in still water. A hushed pause in conversations, a collective glance toward the entryway. And then Y/N felt it, the unmistakable pull of a presence she had spent two years trying to forget.

Roseanne had arrived.

The air seemed to hum with her arrival, her presence magnetic even in a room full of stars. Dressed in an effortlessly chic ensemble, a fitted black turtleneck paired with a high-waisted silk skirt that shimmered faintly in the light, she carried herself with quiet confidence. Her blonde waves framed her face perfectly, and the soft glow of the villa’s lights highlighted the delicate contours of her features.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as their eyes met across the room.

The world seemed to narrow in that moment, all noise fading into a distant hum. Roseanne’s polite smile faltered, just briefly, as her gaze locked with Y/N’s. Her almond-shaped eyes held a mixture of emotions Y/N couldn’t quite place, surprise, maybe even longing.

Y/N’s grip tightened around her glass, her pulse quickening. She turned her attention back to the terrace, feigning interest in the view, but her heart raced in her chest. The ease she had begun to feel moments ago evaporated, replaced by the familiar ache she had been trying to bury.

Jennie greeted Roseanne warmly, pulling her into a brief hug before steering her toward the group by the bar. Y/N could feel her presence even from a distance, the hum of tension now impossible to ignore.

She took a steadying sip of her wine, willing herself to stay calm. This was just a coincidence, she told herself. A moment she could navigate with poise, no matter what emotions it stirred within her.

But as she turned her gaze back toward the room, the weight of Roseanne’s arrival lingered, like a chord unresolved.

“Y/N,” Irene called from nearby, her warm voice cutting through the haze of Y/N’s thoughts. “Come join us!”

Y/N blinked, jolted out of her daze. She turned to see Irene standing with few others by the bar, her hand raised in a beckoning gesture. Grateful for the distraction, Y/N forced a smile and made her way over, her steps steady despite the nervous energy swirling within her.

“Thought you were going to hide by the terrace all night,” Irene teased as Y/N approached.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Y/N replied with a soft laugh, raising her glass in mock defense.

Seulgi grinned, her relaxed demeanor immediately putting Y/N at ease. “Jennie would drag you back if you tried.”

“That sounds about right,” Y/N said, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.

The group’s conversation flowed easily, a mix of lighthearted jokes and anecdotes. Irene shared a funny story about an ill-timed wardrobe malfunction during a recent performance, drawing laughter from everyone, including Y/N. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to relax, letting the warmth of the group’s camaraderie wash over her.

But no matter how much she tried to stay present, her focus kept straying back to Roseanne.

She was across the room now, standing near Jennie and Hoyeon. The soft rise and fall of her laughter floated over the hum of conversations, faint but unmistakable. Y/N’s eyes found her almost instinctively, tracing the graceful way Roseanne gestured with her hands as she spoke, the subtle tilt of her head when she listened.

Roseanne’s smile, polite and poised, reminded Y/N of countless moments they had shared, from quiet nights on their couch to bursts of laughter over shared inside jokes. It was a smile that had once belonged solely to Y/N, and the ache of seeing it from a distance now was almost too much to bear.

“Earth to Y/N,” Irene’s voice cut in, her tone amused.

Y/N startled slightly, realizing Irene’s sharp gaze was fixed on her. “Sorry, what?”

Seulgi smirked knowingly, glancing in the direction Y/N had been looking. “You’ve been quiet. Not like you.”

“I’m just… tired,” Y/N lied, taking a sip of her wine to mask her unease.

“Right,” Irene said, her tone suggesting she didn’t believe a word of it. But she didn’t push, instead steering the conversation back toward lighter topics.

As the group dissolved into another round of jokes, Y/N laughed along, though the sound felt hollow in her chest. Her gaze drifted back toward Roseanne again, unbidden, and she caught a fleeting moment where their eyes met across the room. Roseanne’s expression softened, a flicker of something Y/N couldn’t quite name crossing her features before she turned back to Jennie.

Y/N tore her gaze away, her pulse quickening. She could feel the weight of her unresolved emotions settling over her like a heavy blanket. No amount of light conversation or laughter could dull it, no matter how much she tried.

Their first exchange of the evening came unexpectedly. Y/N was returning from the kitchen with a glass of water, her fingers cool against the condensation on the glass, when she turned a corner and nearly collided with someone.

“Sorry—” she began instinctively, but the words caught in her throat as she looked up.

It was Roseanne.

Y/N’s breath hitched as her eyes met Roseanne’s, a rush of familiarity crashing over her like a wave. Roseanne stood close, too close, her floral perfume filling the small space between them. It was the same scent Y/N remembered from countless quiet mornings and shared embraces, stirring memories she had worked so hard to bury.

“Hey,” Roseanne said quietly, her voice low and tentative.

The single syllable felt like a thread pulling at Y/N’s carefully stitched-together composure. “Hi,” she managed, though her pulse quickened as if her body had yet to catch up with her calm tone.

For a moment, they simply stood there, caught in a silent bubble that felt removed from the laughter and music echoing through the villa. The air between them was charged, thick with unspoken words and emotions that neither seemed ready to voice.

Roseanne’s eyes softened, something unreadable flickering across her features as she looked at Y/N. There was a tension in her expression, a hesitance that belied the confidence she carried so effortlessly in front of others.

“You look…” Roseanne began, pausing briefly as if searching for the right words. “Good.” Her tone was careful, almost fragile, as though testing the waters of an unfamiliar sea.

Y/N’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her grip on the glass in her hand tightened. “Thanks. You too,” she replied, her voice quieter than she intended.

Roseanne’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before flicking to the glass in Y/N’s hand. She shifted slightly, stepping back enough to give Y/N space to pass. The sound of laughter from the living room spilled into the hallway, breaking the fragile stillness between them.

Y/N hesitated, her feet rooted to the spot for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. She wanted to say something, anything, to fill the silence. But her mind was a jumble of racing thoughts and emotions she couldn’t untangle.

Roseanne broke the moment with a small, almost shy smile. “It’s… good to see you.”

The words hit Y/N harder than she expected, a bittersweet pang settling in her chest. She nodded, her own smile faint. “You too.”

And then it was over.

Y/N stepped past her, her footsteps steady but her heart pounding in disarray. She didn’t dare look back, but she felt Roseanne’s gaze on her as she walked away, a weight she couldn’t ignore.

As she reentered the lively atmosphere of the living room, the hum of conversation and music felt distant, muffled against the storm brewing inside her. The brief exchange played over and over in her mind, a kaleidoscope of emotions she couldn’t sort through.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of half-hearted conversations and stolen glances. Y/N noticed Jennie watching them once or twice, her sharp eyes flicking between the two women with a knowing look. But Jennie said nothing, choosing instead to redirect attention when the tension threatened to become too obvious.

As the party began to wind down, Y/N found herself retreating to one of the smaller sitting rooms at the back of the villa. The cozy space was a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere outside, its dim lighting and soft furnishings offering a quiet reprieve from the noise and energy of the gathering.

She sank into a plush armchair by the window, her gaze drawn to the garden bathed in moonlight. The soft glow illuminated the neat rows of hedges and the faint silhouettes of flowers swaying gently in the night breeze. She tried to let the stillness calm her, but the ache in her chest refused to fade.

Her thoughts spiraled, unbidden and relentless, back to Roseanne. The way her eyes had softened when they met, the faint hesitance in her voice, the magnetic pull that made it impossible for Y/N to ignore her presence. Even now, two years later, Roseanne had a way of unraveling her carefully constructed defenses with nothing more than a glance.

The soft creak of the door opening broke her reverie. Y/N turned, her breath hitching as Roseanne stepped inside, her movements slow and hesitant, as though unsure of her welcome.

“Mind if I join you?” Roseanne asked, her voice barely above a whisper, fragile yet filled with something unmistakably raw.

Y/N hesitated, her chest tightening as a torrent of emotions surged within her. She wanted to say no, to shield herself from the vulnerability that Roseanne always seemed to bring out in her. But instead, she nodded.

Roseanne crossed the room, her steps tentative, and took the seat opposite Y/N. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was thick, stretching between them like a chasm filled with all the words they had never said, all the emotions they had left unresolved.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Roseanne said finally, her hands resting nervously on her lap. Her gaze lingered on her fingers, which fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, betraying her unease.

“Neither was I,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft but steady.

The corner of Roseanne’s mouth twitched, a faint, humorless smile. “Jennie invited me. I almost didn’t come.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering through her guarded expression. “Why?”

Roseanne looked up, her eyes shimmering with vulnerability. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely audible. “Because I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing you.”

The raw honesty of her words hit Y/N like a blow, her breath catching in her throat. She looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap, and swallowed hard. “Rosie…” she began, but the words faltered. She didn’t know what to say.

Roseanne leaned back slightly, her gaze distant. “I thought it would get easier,” she said quietly. “You know… being apart. But it hasn’t. Not for me.”

The confession sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over Y/N. She felt her chest tighten, her heart pounding in a chaotic rhythm as she grappled with her feelings. For two years, she had tried to convince herself that moving on was the right thing, that their love had been too fractured to fix. And yet, sitting here now, facing the woman she had never truly stopped loving, those justifications felt hollow.

“I miss you,” Roseanne said suddenly, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her words. They hung in the air between them, sharp and piercing, cutting through the layers of silence and unresolved tension.

Y/N’s breath hitched. She had imagined this moment countless times, wondering what it would feel like to hear those words again. But now that they were here, she felt unmoored, adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

“I—” she began, her voice trembling. She looked away, her gaze fixed on the window. The garden beyond blurred into a hazy smear of moonlight and shadow.

“I’m not saying it to make things harder,” Roseanne continued, her voice soft but firm. “I just… needed you to know. Even if it doesn’t change anything.”

Y/N closed her eyes, her chest aching as the weight of Roseanne’s words settled over her. Memories flooded her mind, of quiet nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms, of shared laughter, of whispered promises that had once felt unbreakable. She forced herself to speak, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Rosie, I…” she trailed off, shaking her head. Her fingers gripped the arms of the chair, as if anchoring herself. “I don’t know what to say.”

Roseanne nodded slowly, her lips curving into a sad, resigned smile. “You don’t have to say anything.”

The silence that followed was deafening, filled with the unspoken weight of their shared history. Y/N’s mind raced with everything she wanted to say but couldn’t, words of longing, regret, and a love that refused to fade no matter how hard she tried to let go.

Finally, Y/N stood, her movements deliberate but heavy. “I should get back to the party,” she said quietly, the words feeling like a lie even as she said them.

Roseanne’s expression fell, her hands tightening briefly in her lap before she nodded. Her voice was small, almost broken, as she replied, “Yeah. Of course.”

Y/N hesitated, lingering for a moment longer than she should have. She wanted to reach out, to touch Roseanne’s hand, to say something that might ease the ache in both their hearts. But the weight of the past, the wounds they had inflicted on each other, kept her rooted in place.

As she turned and left the room, her chest ached with the weight of what had just transpired. The conversation played over in her mind, raw and unresolved, as she rejoined the others. Her steps felt heavier with each stride, as though she were walking away from more than just the room.

And behind her, Roseanne sat alone, her gaze fixed on the empty chair Y/N had left behind.

November brought with it the icy chill of Seoul’s late autumn, the sharp air cutting through Y/N’s layers as she returned home one evening. She had spent the day busying herself with errands and work, the usual distractions that helped her keep her thoughts at bay. But as she set her keys down on the kitchen counter, her phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence.

Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the screen, an unfamiliar number lighting up the notification. Hesitantly, she picked up the phone and opened the message.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s Roseanne. I’ve been battling myself since the party, wondering if I should send you this. But I just released a new song, and I wrote it thinking of you. It says everything I wish I could say to you.”

A link was attached to the text. Y/N stared at the message, her heart thundering in her chest. Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts swirling as she debated what to do.

Her finger hovered over the link, the urge to ignore it battling with her insatiable curiosity. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she tapped it, the familiar interface of her music app opening.

The title stared back at her ‘Number One Girl’

Y/N pressed play, the first delicate notes filling the quiet room. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, wrapping around her like an embrace she wasn’t sure she could accept. Her chest tightened as the vulnerability in the music seeped into her.

And then Roseanne’s voice broke through, achingly familiar, raw, and heartbreakingly sincere.

“Tell me that I’m special, tell me I look pretty Tell me I’m a little angel, sweetheart of your city Say what I’m dying to hear, ‘Cause I’m dying to hear you”

The first line hit like a whisper of the past, bringing with it an ache so profound that Y/N almost couldn’t breathe. Her breath caught in her throat, her fingers trembling as she set her phone down on the table, afraid that holding it might somehow shatter her already fragile composure.

Each word unfolded like a confession, pulling at the threads of emotions she had spent two years trying to suppress. Y/N blinked rapidly, her vision blurring as her heart began to pound in her chest.

And then the chorus rose, swelling with a desperation that mirrored the turmoil inside her. “Isn’t it lonely? I’d do anything to make you want me I’d give it all up if you told me that I’d be The number one girl in your eyes”

The room seemed to tilt, the raw longing in Roseanne’s voice cutting through Y/N like a blade. She closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the table for support as waves of emotions crashed over her.

Memories surged, vivid and unrelenting.

She saw Roseanne standing in their kitchen, her hair tied back in a loose bun, laughing as she tried and failed to flip a pancake. She felt the warmth of Roseanne’s hands cupping her cheeks, the softness of her whispered reassurances on nights when Y/N doubted herself. She heard their shared laughter, the sound ringing in her ears like a melody she thought she’d forgotten.

But just as quickly, the memories turned darker, cutting deeper. She remembered the arguments, the way Roseanne’s voice would crack with frustration, and the empty space on the couch between them that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

The next verse hit with a different intensity, each line unraveling another thread of Y/N’s carefully constructed resolve. “Tell me that you need me, tell me that I’m loved Tell me that I’m worth it, and that I’m enough”

Y/N’s fingers trembled against the table, her vision swimming with tears. Roseanne’s words felt like a mirror to everything she had longed to hear during their relationship, the words that could have bridged the growing distance between them but had always remained unspoken.

Her chest ached as she let the lyrics wash over her. The raw yearning in Roseanne’s voice wasn’t just an echo of the past. It was a reflection of Y/N’s own buried feelings, the ones she had been too scared to admit even to herself.

“I need it and I don’t know why This late at night”

A sob broke free from her chest, unbidden and raw. She pressed a hand to her mouth, as if to stifle the sound, but it was no use. Her tears fell freely now, each lyric prying open the wounds she had tried so desperately to heal.

The vulnerability in Roseanne’s voice was overwhelming. It wasn’t just a song. It was a plea, a confession, a love letter written in melodies and aching words. Y/N’s heart twisted painfully, caught between the sweetness of what they had shared and the bitterness of what they had lost.

By the time the bridge arrived, Roseanne’s voice softened into a near whisper, as if speaking directly to Y/N. “The girl in your eyes, the girl in your eyes Tell me I’m the number one girl I’m the number one girl in your eyes…”

Y/N clutched at her chest, the weight of the lyrics pressing down on her until it felt like she might break apart. The words echoed in her mind, intertwining with the memory of Roseanne’s gaze at the party, the vulnerability in her eyes, the quiet longing in her voice when she had said, “I miss you.”

As the final note faded, the silence that followed felt deafening. Y/N sat motionless, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath. Her phone screen dimmed, leaving the room bathed in a faint glow, but the echoes of Roseanne’s voice lingered like a ghost, haunting and inescapable.

The lyrics repeated in her mind, intertwining with the memories she thought she had buried. “I’d give it all up if you told me that I’d be the number one girl in your eyes”

It was too much. The dam of emotions she had held back for so long had finally burst, and Y/N found herself sobbing into her hands, her tears falling hot and fast. Roseanne’s words, her voice, her love, they had stripped away every wall Y/N had built, leaving her raw and exposed.

Y/N stared at her phone, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath. Roseanne’s message replayed in her mind “I wrote it for you. It says everything I wish I could say to you.”

A part of her wanted to ignore it, to leave the song and the emotions it stirred behind. But the truth was undeniable, she couldn’t escape the feelings she had buried, the love she had tried so hard to let go of.

She stood abruptly, pacing the length of her kitchen as her thoughts raced. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her mind replaying Roseanne’s voice over and over. She thought of the party a month ago, the way Roseanne had looked at her, the quiet vulnerability in her words.

Y/N stopped pacing, her breath uneven as she gripped her phone tightly. Her heart pounded in her chest, the echoes of Roseanne’s voice still ringing in her ears. She couldn’t avoid this anymore. She didn’t want to.

Her thumb hovered over her screen, trembling as she scrolled through her contacts. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, and for a moment, she hesitated, her finger pausing over Jennie’s name. What would she even say? The weight of everything she was feeling threatened to pull her under, but the thought of letting this moment slip away was unbearable.

She pressed the call button before she could talk herself out of it. The line rang twice, each chime a painful reminder of the enormity of what she was about to do.

Jennie’s voice came through, warm and tinged with curiosity. “Y/N? What’s going on?”

Y/N exhaled shakily, her words spilling out in a rush before she could second-guess them. “I need Roseanne’s address.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken questions. Jennie’s voice softened when she spoke again, now laced with concern. “Wait… What? Y/N, are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, her voice cracking as the vulnerability she’d been holding back spilled over. She ran a hand through her hair, the motion almost frantic as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. “I just… I need to see her, Jennie. Please.”

The words hung in the air, raw and desperate. Y/N’s chest ached with the weight of them, as if saying them aloud had made her emotions even more real.

Jennie sighed on the other end, her usual playfulness absent. Instead, her tone was calm, understanding. “Alright,” she said gently, her words like a lifeline. “Give me a minute, and I’ll send it to you.”

The line went dead, leaving Y/N alone in the silence of her apartment once more. She lowered the phone, her fingers trembling as she stared at it. A mix of fear and anticipation churned in her stomach. What would Roseanne say? Would she even want to see her?

A soft chime broke her thoughts, signaling Jennie’s text. The notification lit up her screen, and there it was. Roseanne’s address. Y/N stared at it for a moment, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.

She didn’t hesitate. The moment her resolve solidified, she grabbed her coat and keys from the counter. Her movements were hurried but deliberate, each step toward the door feeling like a step closer to something she couldn’t let slip away.

As she reached for the doorknob, a million thoughts raced through her mind, what she would say, what she hoped Roseanne might say, the fear that this might all backfire. But none of it mattered. She had to see her.

It was time to face Roseanne.

The drive to Roseanne’s apartment was a blur. Y/N barely registered the passing city lights or the soft hum of the radio. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on her chest.

When Y/N arrived, she parked her car along the curb and turned off the engine. The street was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights that reflected off the sleek facade of the building. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as she stared up at the familiar structure.

The sight of it brought a wave of bittersweet memories crashing over her, each one more vivid than the last. She remembered the first time she had stepped through those doors, her heart fluttering with nervous excitement as Roseanne had shyly handed her a set of keys. She remembered lazy Sunday mornings spent on the balcony with coffee and laughter, and quiet evenings where they had shared their dreams and fears in whispers.

But she also remembered the silence. The heavy, suffocating silence that had grown between them toward the end. The fights that left her feeling like a stranger in her own home. The day she had walked out for the last time, her heart breaking as she closed the door behind her.

Why would Roseanne still live here?

The question gnawed at her, twisting her stomach into knots. She had expected Roseanne to move on, to leave this place behind along with all the memories they had created together. It would have been easier, wouldn’t it? To start fresh somewhere else, away from the ghosts of what they used to be.

And yet, she was still here. In the apartment they had once called home.

The thought both comforted and unnerved Y/N. Did it mean Roseanne hadn’t let go either? Or was this just another sign of the emotional mess they had left behind, a mess Y/N wasn’t sure she was ready to face?

Her chest tightened as the lyrics to Roseanne’s song replayed in her mind, soft and haunting. “Tell me that you need me, tell me that I’m loved…”

A lump formed in her throat, and she blinked rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to spill. She had to pull herself together. Turning back wasn’t an option, not now.

With a deep, steadying breath, she pushed open the car door and stepped out into the cool night air.

The lobby was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the elevator. The familiar scent of the polished floors and the soft lighting triggered another wave of nostalgia. She hesitated as she reached for the elevator button, her hand trembling slightly.

What if this was a mistake?

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and she stepped inside, pressing the button for Roseanne’s floor. The ride felt interminable, each floor passing with a low hum that seemed to echo her racing heartbeat. Her reflection stared back at her in the polished metal doors, her wide eyes betraying the nerves she was trying to suppress.

Her thoughts raced as the elevator ascended. What would Roseanne say when she saw her? Would she be angry? Hurt? Would she even want to see her at all?

Y/N’s breath hitched as the elevator came to a stop. The doors slid open, and she stepped into the hallway. Her footsteps echoed softly against the carpeted floor as she approached Roseanne’s apartment.

When she finally reached the door, her breath caught.

She stared at it, her hand hovering just above the wood. Her chest tightened as a flood of memories washed over her.

This was once her home too. She could still remember the countless times she had walked through this door, arms full of groceries, laughing at one of Roseanne’s jokes. She remembered sneaking in quietly after a late night out, trying not to wake Roseanne, only to find her sitting on the couch, waiting with a teasing smile.

The familiarity of it all stirred a mix of dread and hope, a potent cocktail of emotions that left her feeling both exhilarated and terrified.

Her hand lingered over the door, her fingers trembling as she fought the urge to turn back. But then she thought of Roseanne’s voice, soft and vulnerable in her message. “I wrote it thinking of you. It says everything I wish I could say to you.”

Y/N closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she tried to steady herself.

With a shaky exhale, she finally knocked.

The seconds that followed felt like an eternity. Each heartbeat thundered in Y/N’s chest as she stood frozen, staring at the door. Then, she heard the faint shuffle of footsteps on the other side, the sound growing louder, closer. The door creaked open.

Roseanne stood there, her eyes widening in shock. She was dressed casually in an oversized sweater and leggings, her hair pulled back into a loose bun with a few stray strands framing her delicate face. She looked softer than Y/N had remembered, her usual polished elegance replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt heavy, electric, charged with surprise and the weight of everything left unsaid.

“Y/N,” Roseanne finally said, her voice soft and trembling, laced with disbelief. Her lips parted as though she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.

Y/N’s breath caught. Seeing Roseanne this close again, seeing the faint shimmer in her eyes, the way her features softened with emotions she couldn’t hide, was almost too much. The lump in Y/N’s throat made it difficult to speak, her voice barely above a whisper as she managed, “I needed to see you.”

Her words hung in the air, tentative and raw.

Roseanne blinked, her lips pressing together for a moment before she stepped back, silently motioning for Y/N to come in. Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping over the threshold, her chest tightening as the familiar space enveloped her.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Roseanne turned slowly, her movements deliberate, as if trying to gather her composure. Her expression was a mix of confusion, hesitation, and vulnerability. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “Why now?” she asked, the faintest crack in her words betraying the storm beneath her calm.

Y/N’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the remnants of a life they had once shared. She finally looked back at Roseanne, her own chest tightening as the weight of the moment pressed down on her. “Because I heard your song,” she admitted, her voice raw, barely above a whisper. She took a shaky breath, her emotions spilling over as she continued, “And it made me realize I can’t keep running from this. From us.”

Roseanne’s breath hitched audibly, her eyes softening with a mix of relief and longing. “I wasn’t sure if I should send it,” she confessed, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides. “I didn’t even know if you’d listen.” Her voice broke slightly on the last word, and she quickly looked away, as if afraid of what Y/N might say next.

Y/N stepped closer, the storm of emotions inside her building with every second. Her voice was steadier now, though the tears threatening to fall betrayed the fragility beneath. “How could I not?” she asked, her gaze locking with Roseanne’s. “Rosie, that song…” She trailed off, shaking her head as tears began to well in her eyes. “It was everything I’ve been feeling. Everything I couldn’t say. Every word…” Her voice broke, and she lifted a hand to wipe at her cheek.

Roseanne’s composure cracked at the sight of Y/N’s tears. Her own eyes glistened as she whispered, “I never stopped loving you.” Her voice broke completely, her vulnerability laid bare. “I couldn’t let you go, Y/N. I tried, but I just couldn’t.”

The words hit Y/N like a tidal wave, each one crashing against the walls she had so carefully built around her heart. She inhaled sharply, her emotions finally spilling over. “Neither could I,” she admitted, her voice trembling as tears slid down her cheeks. “But, Rosie, we hurt each other so much. We broke each other.” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, the memories of their arguments and silences cutting deep.

“I know,” Roseanne said, her voice barely audible. She stepped closer, her hands trembling as she reached out tentatively, as if afraid Y/N might pull away. Her fingers brushed Y/N’s lightly before she looked up, her gaze filled with raw emotion. “Do you know why I never sold this place?”

Y/N shook her head slowly, her tears falling freely now.

“Because I couldn’t,” Roseanne confessed, her voice thick with emotion. Her hands trembled at her sides, and her eyes shone with tears she no longer tried to hide. Her voice broke as she continued, “It was the last thing that reminded me of you. Every corner, every shadow, it’s all you, Y/N. I couldn’t let go completely. I didn’t want to.”

The raw honesty in Roseanne’s words sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing through Y/N. Her chest tightened painfully, the magnitude of Roseanne’s confession wrapping around her like a vice. She saw it now, not just the apartment but the weight of two years’ worth of longing and grief that Roseanne had carried within these walls.

Y/N stepped closer, her own tears spilling over as her hand reached out, trembling as her fingers brushed against Roseanne’s. The warmth of the touch was both grounding and electrifying, a reminder of all they had been and all they could still be.

Her voice was soft, breaking with both love and sorrow. “Rosie, I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.” She paused, her breath catching. “But we’re not the same people we were two years ago. I’m not the same person who walked out that door.”

Roseanne nodded slowly, her gaze locked on Y/N’s as a tear slipped down her cheek. “I know,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. She swallowed hard, her next words laced with both desperation and determination. “But I’ll do anything to make this work. Anything, Y/N. I’ll leave the industry if I have to. I’ll give it all up for you.” Her voice cracked on the last word, her vulnerability laid bare. She hesitated, her lips trembling before she added, “You’re the love of my life.”

Y/N’s breath hitched at the sheer sincerity in Roseanne’s voice. Her chest ached with the weight of it, her heart swelling and breaking all at once. She shook her head, her voice firm but gentle. “Don’t be stupid, Rosie. I don’t want you to give up your dreams. That’s not what this is about.”

Roseanne’s brows furrowed, confusion and frustration flickering across her face. She let out a soft, shuddering breath as her hands fidgeted at her sides. “Then what is it about?” she asked, her voice rising slightly with desperation. “Tell me what I need to do, Y/N. Please.”

Y/N took another step closer, their hands brushing again as she steadied herself. She met Roseanne’s gaze, her own eyes filled with unshed tears, and spoke with a steadiness she hadn’t known she was capable of. “It’s about us,” she said softly, the weight of the words heavy between them. “It’s about us trying again. But only if we promise to try as hard as we can. To be better. To communicate better. To really be there for each other this time.”

Roseanne stared at her, the tears on her cheeks catching the soft light of the room. She nodded quickly, her lips trembling as a sob broke free. “I’ll try,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “I’ll do anything, Y/N. I swear. Just… just don’t walk away again.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart pounding as she closed the remaining distance between them. She cupped Roseanne’s face in her hands, her touch gentle yet firm, anchoring them both in the moment. “You’re the love of my life too, Rosie,” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. “And I want us to have a second chance. I need us to have a second chance.”

Roseanne leaned into Y/N’s touch, her tears mingling with a soft, shaky laugh that sounded like relief and joy all at once. “I won’t let you down this time,” she promised, her voice trembling but steady.

Y/N smiled through her tears, the weight of her emotions making her chest feel both heavy and impossibly light at the same time. Her heart ached, not with pain but with a bittersweet mix of hope and love that surged through her like a tide. She took a hesitant step closer, then another, until the distance between them was gone, her movements careful yet certain.

Her gaze lingered on Roseanne’s face, drinking in every detail, the glistening trail of tears on her cheeks, the way her lips trembled with unspoken emotion, the soft vulnerability in her eyes that mirrored everything Y/N felt.

Roseanne’s breath hitched as Y/N thumb swept gently across her skin, wiping away a tear that had just begun to fall. Roseanne leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as if savoring the warmth and familiarity.

“Rosie,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling but filled with quiet conviction. Her other hand found its way to Roseanne’s waist, her touch light but grounding, as though she needed to anchor herself in this moment. “I’m here. I’m really here.”

Roseanne’s eyes opened, shimmering with unshed tears, and a small, breathless laugh escaped her lips. “You are,” she murmured, her voice breaking with equal parts disbelief and relief.

Y/N smiled again, her own tears spilling over as she closed the final gap between them. Her lips met Roseanne’s in a kiss that was as soft as it was intense, a tender connection charged with the weight of everything they had been through.

The world seemed to fall away as they melted into each other, the kiss carrying all the emotions they couldn’t put into words. It was an apology, a promise, a plea for forgiveness and a vow to try again, all wrapped into a single moment.

Y/N’s hand moved from Roseanne’s cheek to the back of her neck, her fingers threading gently through the loose strands of hair as she deepened the kiss. Roseanne responded instantly, her hands coming up to rest on Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her closer as if afraid to let her go.

Their breaths mingled, warm and uneven, as the kiss lingered. It wasn’t hurried or frantic, it was deliberate, filled with the kind of love that had never truly left them, even in their time apart.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other’s, their breaths coming in soft, shaky exhales. Y/N let out a quiet laugh, a sound that was equal parts relief and joy, her eyes still glistening with tears.

“You’re everything to me, Rosie,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “And this… this feels like coming home.”

Roseanne’s lips curved into a trembling smile, her eyes shining with love as she whispered back, “You are my home, Y/N. You always have been.”

“You’ll always have been and always will be my number one girl,” Y/N murmured, her voice filled with warmth and love.

Roseanne's eyes were shining with the same emotion. “And you’ll always be mine.”

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, the air between them charged with the promise of a new beginning.

The morning sun filtered through the windows of Roseanne’s apartment, casting warm, golden light across the living room. Y/N stood in the kitchen, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, the comforting aroma filling the air. The space felt alive again, less like a shell of old memories and more like a place where something new could grow.

Roseanne’s voice echoed faintly from the bedroom as she hummed a soft tune, her guitar resting on her lap. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she listened, the sound stirring a warmth in her chest she hadn’t felt in a long time.

A soft scratching noise at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat. It was a sound she knew all too well.

“Rosie,” she called out, setting her mug down on the counter. “Did you hear that?”

Roseanne’s humming stopped, and moments later, she appeared in the doorway, her expression already softening. “Oh,” she said, her voice tinged with surprise and a smile tugging at her lips. “That must be Hank.”

Y/N’s breath caught as Roseanne moved to the door, her movements fluid and familiar. When she opened it, Alice stood on the other side, holding Hank’s leash. The little dog was already bouncing excitedly, his tail wagging furiously.

Alice glanced at Y/N, her eyes widening briefly before a knowing grin spread across her face. “Oh,” she said, her tone teasing. “Y/N. You’re here.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, but Alice didn’t linger, her voice brisk as she handed over the leash. “Later, Rosie, I want details. Everything. But I’ve got to go. I’m running late!”

Roseanne laughed, rolling her eyes affectionately as Alice gave her a quick hug and a pointed look before rushing down the hall, Rosie calling her back, “Thank you for taking care of him!”

The door closed, and the apartment fell silent again. Hank, however, was anything but calm. The moment he spotted Y/N, he froze, his tail pausing mid-wag as his dark eyes locked onto her.

“Hank,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. She crouched down instinctively, her hands outstretched as the dog’s tail began wagging furiously.

With an excited bark, Hank bolted toward her, his little body vibrating with enthusiasm. Y/N laughed through her tears as he jumped into her arms, his paws pressing against her chest as he licked her face.

“Hey, buddy,” she said, her voice breaking as she hugged him tightly. “I missed you so much.”

Roseanne leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, watching the reunion with a smile that was equal parts fondness and relief. “I wasn’t sure if he’d remember you,” she said softly.

Y/N looked up at her, tears streaming down her cheeks as Hank nestled into her arms. “How could he forget?” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She scratched behind Hank’s ears, her gaze shifting back to the little dog who was now happily curled against her.

Roseanne stepped closer, crouching down beside them. She reached out to ruffle Hank’s fur, her hand brushing against Y/N’s in the process. Their eyes met briefly, and the shared emotion in the moment said more than words ever could.

“Hank’s missed you,” Roseanne said quietly, her voice warm. “He hasn’t been the same since you left.”

Y/N pressed her lips together, her heart aching at the thought. “I missed him too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I missed everything.”

Roseanne’s hand lingered on Hank’s fur, her fingers brushing Y/N’s again. “Well,” she said, her voice steady but filled with tenderness, “you don’t have to miss it anymore. You’re here now.”

The words settled between them, a quiet promise of the new life they were building together. Hank let out a contented sigh, curling up against Y/N’s lap as if to say he wasn’t letting her go again either.

Y/N leaned her head against Roseanne’s shoulder, her tears falling freely now, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of hope, of love, and of finally finding her way back home.

The brisk chill of January had settled over Seoul, bringing with it the magic of a new year. The streets were lined with faintly glowing lights, and a dusting of snow covered the sidewalks like a soft, white blanket. The world seemed quieter, more reflective, as if everyone were holding their breath for what the future might bring.

Y/N adjusted the hem of her coat as she stepped into Jennie’s home, the warmth of the interior immediately enveloping her. She looked over at Roseanne, whose hand was intertwined with hers, and felt a familiar surge of emotion she hadn’t yet grown used to, love, steady and unwavering, filling the spaces she had once thought were irreparably broken.

Jennie greeted them with a grin as wide as the moon, her dark eyes sparkling with delight. “There they are!” she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the hum of conversation in the room. “Our favorite reunited couple!”

Y/N laughed softly, cheeks flushing as Roseanne gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, don’t make it weird,” Y/N teased, but Jennie was already pulling them into a warm hug, one arm around each of their shoulders.

“I’m just happy to see you both like this,” Jennie said, her voice softer now as she stepped back. She gave them a knowing look, her gaze flicking between them. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”

Roseanne smiled, her cheeks tinged pink, but she didn’t let go of Y/N’s hand. “It is,” she said simply, and the way she looked at Y/N made Jennie’s knowing expression turn into a broad, satisfied grin.

The party was intimate, filled with close friends who were eager to celebrate Jennie’s birthday. Familiar faces mingled throughout the room. The atmosphere was warm and lively, the clinking of glasses and soft bursts of laughter weaving a comforting backdrop.

Y/N noticed the glances at first, brief, curious looks from friends who hadn’t seen her and Roseanne together in years. But as the evening went on, those glances turned into warm smiles, nods of approval, and even a few heartfelt words of support.

“You two look good together,” Jihyo said at one point, her tone light but genuine.

“Thank you,” Y/N replied, her smile shy but radiant as she glanced at Roseanne, who returned her look with a fondness that made her chest flutter.

Roseanne stayed close by her side throughout the evening, her hand finding Y/N’s every so often in a small, grounding gesture. It was subtle but reassuring, a silent promise that they were in this together.

As the night wore on, they found themselves sitting together on the couch, sharing quiet laughs as they watched Jennie cut her cake. The warmth in the room felt like a reflection of their own hearts, fragile yet hopeful.

Later that night, Y/N and Roseanne returned to Roseanne’s apartment, their steps slow and unhurried as they shed their coats and boots. The quiet of the space was a welcome reprieve from the liveliness of the party, and the faint glow of the city lights outside painted the room in soft hues.

They made their way to the bedroom, the familiar coziness wrapping around them like an embrace. Y/N slipped under the covers, her body instantly relaxing against the warmth of the sheets. Roseanne joined her moments later, their movements fluid and practiced, as though they had never spent two years apart.

The quiet was companionable, filled with the unspoken understanding that had grown between them in the weeks since they had reconciled. Y/N turned onto her side, facing Roseanne, whose soft features were illuminated by the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

“I’m glad we went tonight,” Y/N said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

“Me too,” Roseanne replied, her gaze steady as she reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from Y/N’s face. Her touch lingered, her fingers tracing a gentle line along Y/N’s cheek.

Y/N caught her hand, holding it against her face as her eyes searched Roseanne’s. “Do you think this time will be different?” she asked, her voice quiet but tinged with vulnerability.

Roseanne nodded, her expression earnest. “I know it will be,” she said, her tone firm but warm. “Because we’re different now. We’ve learned what it means to really love someone, and I think we’re finally ready to do it the right way.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten, not with sadness but with the overwhelming weight of Roseanne’s sincerity. “I want that too,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I want us to keep growing. To be better. Together.”

Roseanne smiled, her eyes shimmering as she leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “We will,” she whispered, her voice filled with quiet determination. “I promise you, Y/N. We’ll keep fighting for this. For us.”

Y/N nodded, her tears spilling over as she smiled through them. She tightened her hold on Roseanne’s hand, their fingers lacing together in a silent vow.

They lay like that for a while, their hands clasped between them, their gazes steady as they talked softly about their future. They spoke of dreams, small ones, big ones, and everything in between. Y/N confessed her fears, and Roseanne countered them with reassurances. Roseanne shared her hopes, and Y/N listened with an open heart, letting each word settle deep inside her.

As the night wore on, their words grew quieter, their breaths slowing in unison. They didn’t need grand gestures or elaborate promises. This moment, their hands intertwined, their hearts aligned, was enough.

#girl group imagines #kpop imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #rose x fem reader #rose x reader #park chaeyoung x reader #blackpink x reader #rosé x reader #blackpink rosé

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writingwisterias · 6 days ago

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Domestic Bliss

Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Pregnancy, Light angst, comfort, established relationship

Summary: A look into Leon's life that's more than earned

This has been sat in my drafts since the beginning of November..I think it was proof read idk lmao! I hope you enjoy.

Leon didn't know what to expect when he returned from the office. The house was always chaotic, but at least it was filled with the joy and laughter of all those he wanted to protect. The dog found him first as he placed his keys on the hook at the door. The giant bundle of fluff ran to him and almost knocked him off his feet as it attacked his stubble with numerous soggy kisses ignoring his attempt to breathe. He petted the thick fur, cursing as it got all over his clothes. His daughter was next, he spotted her peering around the corner inspecting who the intruder was. Leon's smile grew when she began giggling racing over to him. What did he do to deserve such a life now? All his fighting had finally meant something, giving him life after wasting half of his in service for another.

Tears pooled in his waterline as he caught his little girl, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck holding him close to her. He breathed in her scent, the smell of your perfume lingered on her along with the freshness outside. He lifted her up smiling at how she clung to him, her tiny legs attempting to wrap themselves around his frame as he carried her through the house. His bags and shoes were left forgotten at the front door. Leon tried desperately not to trip over the dog as it weaved between his legs; cursing playfully at the overly excited animal. It didn't take long for him to find you, the smell of dinner luring him to the kitchen. The soft lull of your music filled the space as you fluttered around expertly. It was an effort for him not to fall to his knees as you turned around, your glowing frame welcoming him home. His eyes lingered on the soft swell of your stomach, evidence of the new present you were gracefully giving him. Leon could spend the rest of his days loving you, worshipping you for your endless kindness that you didn't have to give. Your years of patience for waiting for him to see what he truly deserved in life.

"Welcome Home Honey" You cooed a smile plastered on your face as you beckoned him in your arms. "Hey," he whispered into your neck, your daughter squirming between the two of you proclaiming how disgusting this display of affection was. Leon pulled away to lower her to the ground as if he could smile any more he did as he watched her run out of the room the dog following her. His attention turned back to you; love and adoration pooled in his eyes as he glanced down. "Dinner is almost ready, probably done by the time you finish cleaning up" You hummed as you embraced him again, enjoying the way your body moulded around his. Leon breathed in your perfume, swaying you both slightly in a dance to the tune of your love. "Don't know if I'm ready to leave you yet"

"I mean the baby says you need a shower...he's been so active in the last five minutes since you returned" You joked stroking your stomach, smiling at the small kicks. Leon's larger hand found its place there as well, his eyes lighting up at his son kicking against his palm. "That's your way of saying I smell?" He chuckled, kissing the crown of your head. He groaned before submitting and making his way towards the bathroom.

He stripped the sweaty clothes off his body and stared in the mirror as he waited for the water to heat up. His eyes scanned over his features, the dark circles that lay beneath his piercing gaze now came from the sleep nights of his daughter instead of the memories that haunt him. He still had those nights, ones where he would shoot up in your shared bed; sobs threatening to spill from his lips as he imagined the scared 21-year-old. He always felt guilty for waking you and his daughter up during those nights; appreciating the way you both worked together to calm him and soothe him back to sleep. He half expected the shower stream to turn red as it dripped down his body; washing away every horrible thing he had to do as part of his job. He never felt clean, picking off pieces of lint on his clothes even if there wasn't anything there to begin with. He gazed at all the scars that littered his body, remembering all the lies he had told his daughter about how he obtained them. Leon closed his eyes allowing the steam to roll around the room, calming him as he washed it all away.

You smiled at him as he walked down the stairs. The dinner table is laid neatly by you as he resumes his usual spot. It never felt right for him to sit at the head of the table. He may be the sole earner of the family and the owner of the house but you crafted it into a home. One who was so warm and invited his friends often spoke about how jealous they were when they visited frequently. Leon smiled as he listened to his daughter's idle chatter about her day; handing out a few jokes and comments on the activities he was being caught on. He watched the mop of blond hair run into the other room leaving the two of you to finish your meal. The silence that filled the air was comforting. You smiled as you watched his shoulders relaxed the tension visibly fading from his frame.

.After cleaning up you were greeted to the sight of him napping as his daughter is laying on his body watching Disney princess' again. Her little head slowly rose and fell as his breaths evened out. You knew she felt safe with tthe way her little eyes struggled to stay awake against her father's soft snores. So you resumed your spot in the armchair beside them; watching him heal from the past with his little girl in his arms. Watching the person you loved so dearly finally feel alive since that fateful night.

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine

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russo-woso · 8 months ago

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No space || Kim Little

Requests here. Prompt lists here.

"It's fine, you can just sit on my lap."

Summary You and Kim being so in love

Quick little one :) (sorry I had to do that)

You had made plans to go with it with the team to celebrate the end of the season.

Finishing on a big high, a 5-0 win against Brighton, it was definitely a well deserved night out.

The season has been a crazy one at that.

There were lots of firsts for a lot of people, first debuts, first goals, for you, it was first time being captain.

With Kim being on the bench, Leah out injured, and Katie also on the bench, the armband was given to you.

Although that was a major first, it wasn’t the biggest one.

The biggest one was dating a teammate for the first time.

When you joined Arsenal during the 2021-22 season, you knew who your new teammates were.

Some you knew internationally, Leah, Beth and lotte, some you knew from playing against them, some you hadn’t met at all.

There was one person who you had never met personally but had always been intrigued and impressed by.

The way she played, the way she spoke, the way she smiled, it had you in a chokehold even though you’d never met her.

Kim Little.

When you first met Kim, it was, well you liked to put it this way, love at first sight.

As the rest of the 21-22 season went on, you and Kim got a lot closer.

There was a noticeable age gap between you and Kim by five years but when you really started falling for Kim, that worry disappeared.

And she felt the exact same way. At first Kim was weary of the age gap, but she figured love was love, and she loved you.

Near to the end of that season, Kim bit the bullet and asked you on a date.

She thought it out very well and had noted down over the months which foods you liked and didn’t like, and made a three course dinner for you.

As you were leaving her house that night, you said goodbye and hugged at the door, and as you jumped in your car, you realised you forgot something.

Running back to her door, before you void even knock, Kim opened it.

“Y/N, wait! I forgot something!” Kim shouted, not knowing you were just there.

“I forgot something too.” You smiled, walking closer before leaning down to connect your lips.

That was a long time ago now, and although you thought in that moment you couldn’t be happier, you really could.

Within the past year, you and Kim have moved in with each other, which was perfect.

You were having the highest of highs in your career, having been arsenals top goalscorer, with 21 goals, this season.

So when you were asked to celebrate tonight, there was no way you were saying no.

“Y/N, Kim!” An Irish accent was heard from the other side of the club. “What drinks would you like? First rounds on me.”

“I’ll have a margarita Katie, thank you. I’ll come with to help you carry the drinks.” You told her before turning to Kim. “You go find us seats, baby. I won’t be long.”

You pressed a kiss to her cheek before walking over to Katie who was at the bar.

“So, you and Kim got anything planned for later tonight?” Katie asked, passing the time whilst the barman got the drinks prepared.

“I don’t know. It depends on what time we get back.” You responded, a light pigment resting on your cheeks.

“There’s your drinks, ladies. Enjoy your night.” The barman smiled politely, handing you a tray each filled with numerous drinks.

Making your way back to the table, you helped hand the drinks round before looking at all your teammates, noticing there way no more space left.

“Where should I sit?” You asked aloud, most of the girls looking in your direction.

“It’s fine, baby, come sit on my lap.” Kim told you, gesturing for you to come sit on her lap.

You smiled, walking over to Kim and settling on her lap, leaving a kiss on her lips.

She wrapped her arms around you, attempting to rest her head on your shoulder but with the height difference, it made it hard for her to do that.

“Switch?” You asked and she nodded straight away.

Once Kim was comfy on your lap, you finally noticed the girls all smiling at the two of you.

“You two are so in love.”

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #kim little #kim little x reader

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d0llcuries · 4 months ago

Text

NOT SO MIGHTY WARRIOR

author's note: this is my first time writing an x reader fic so pls bear with my potentially odd/boring attempt at a oneshot. additional apologies if neteyam is out of character!! (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

pairing(s): neteyam x fem na'vi! reader

summary: in which you're his unexpected peace

you sat amidst a cluster of older gatherers without speaking a single word and occupied yourself with a new batch of obtained fruits and herbs. the older ladies sat with the younger and whispered happily about families and olden days. you were often in need of their comfort, as it was their calmness that steadied you and let you get on with your task at this unhurried pace. on the positive side, you felt, much as the young women loved the thrill of the chase and enjoyed being in swift movements and intense instincts of a hunter, your heart was always too tender for it.

you never liked the idea of pulling a bow and aiming for a target or stalking something simply for a meal and so you found your place amongst the gatherers of the clan. this was more subtle, a more sensitive role and you were quite happy in it.you looked and already there was a heap of gathered things next to your sitting body, a small assortment of bright colors — berries, medicinal herbs and soft-skinned fruits that you sorted according to their variety and ripeness.

the pattern of work was pleasant and you allowed yourself to be washed over by the soft babbling of the older women that surrounded you like a passing summer’s wind in the trees. this was a gentle and known moment, and you let yourself dissolve into it.

that was until you felt a shift, an unfamiliar energy entering the space.

you looked up, catching sight of neteyam walking toward the group. immediately, something felt off. he carried himself with the same grace and respect as always, his movements fluid and confident, but there was something in the way he held his shoulders, a tension you were not used to seeing in him. his jaw was tight, eyes sharp but distant, like he was working hard to stay composed.

neteyam was always the picture of poise—strong, responsible, steady—but today, there was a flicker of something else behind his usual calm. “good afternoon, everyone,” he greeted the group, his voice polite and measured as ever. the older women smiled, nodding in return, but neteyam’s gaze lingered on you. “pardon me.. but may i speak with you for a moment?”

his tone was respectful, but the urgency behind his words was clear. the older women exchanged knowing glances and waved you off with soft chuckles, murmuring something about young love. you felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks, quickly setting aside the basket you were sorting through before standing and nodding to him. “of course.”

he led you away from the group, deeper into the forest, his usual silence feeling heavier today. you followed, feeling the tension rolling off him in waves, his quiet frustration palpable in the way he moved. how odd, you thought, how odd that he asked to speak with her privately. young na'vi like you would kill for an opportunity like this, to be singled out by neteyam, the perfect warrior, the one everyone admired. perhaps you should consider yourself lucky, maybe even honored. so why did your stomach twist with nerves, your hands suddenly feel too still glued awkwardly to your sides?

when the trees opened into a small, sunlit clearing, he stopped, turning to face you, his chest rising and falling like he had been holding everything in for too long.

“lo’ak... he got into trouble again.” the words spilled out, heavy and filled with frustration. you were not surprised when neteyam mentioned lo’ak had gotten into trouble again. lo’ak was always the one to test boundaries, his spirit wild and untamed, always chasing something bigger. despite his good heart, he acted on impulse, never quite thinking about the consequences until it was too late. you couldn’t help but admire his courage, but it always left someone—usually neteyam—cleaning up the mess. his hands clenched at his sides, his tail flicking behind him in sharp, restless motions. the calm, collected neteyam you knew was cracking before you. “i had to take the blame, again. father... he did not even ask. it is always assumed that i will handle it, that i will fix things.”

his voice was tight, bitter even. you could see it now—how the weight of being the eldest, the responsible one, was grinding him down. she looked at him, and she hated to admit it—clearly, in his moment of frustration, she should be serious, should focus on his words rather than how his jaw clenched or how his muscles tensed beneath his skin. but she was just a girl, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore how attractive he was, even now. his eyes sharp with irritation, and yet all she could think about was how unfair it was that someone could look so good even when they were angry. it made her feel guilty, so she bit her bottom lip in order to prevent a lovesick smile grom graving her face.

“lo’ak acts without thinking. he never considers the consequences,” neteyam’s voice grew softer, yet edged with a bitterness you rarely heard. “and i have to step in. i have to clean it up, face my father’s disappointment. no one... no one asks how i feel about it.”

his eyes darkened, as though the words had finally been let loose after being caged for so long. he turned away from you, looking down at his hands, his fingers tightening into fists. oh brother.

so you might have had a crush on him—every girl did! he was neteyam, after all, with that effortless charm and strength that made hearts race without him even knowing it. but right now, he obviously needed advice, not you daydreaming about grabbing him and kissing that stupidly perfect face of his, as riveting as that might be for you. yet. no, now was the time to say something smart, to get it through his thick skull that he needed to relax, because carrying all of this weight on his shoulders wasn’t going to do him any favors in the long run. you stepped closer, your chest aching at the sight of him so burdened.

“neteyam,” you began, your voice soft, your eyes filled with warmth and understanding, “you do not always have to be the one to fix everything.” he looked back at you, his expression raw, searching your face as if waiting for you to tell him something different.

“but who else will?” he asked, his voice low and quiet. “if i do not, then...”

“it is not your job to bear all of this on your own,” you whispered, taking his hand gently in yours. his skin was warm, and it took everything in you to fight the squeal that threatened to rise forth from your throat at the mere fact that you were holding hands with the neteyam te suli tsyeyk’itan. “you are allowed to feel frustrated, to be angry. it is not fair for everyone to expect so much from you.”

neteyam’s breath hitched slightly, his ears twitching at your words. his eyes softened just a little, like the tight knot in his chest was loosening, if only by a fraction. “but lo’ak... he needs me.”

“he does, but that does not mean you have to sacrifice yourself,” you replied, stepping even closer, your hand still cradling his. “you are strong, neteyam. the strongest person i know. but even the strongest need someone to share the weight with.”

his gaze fell to the ground, his expression caught somewhere between exhaustion and relief. your words seemed to hang in the air, softening the edges of his frustration. he blinked, as though your touch and your voice had calmed the storm inside him. but then, as if realizing how much he had let himself unravel in front of you, a flicker of embarrassment crossed his face.

his tail gave a hesitant flick, curling slightly behind him, and he let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar, sheepish way. “i... i did not mean to unload like that,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, his gaze dropping to the space between you. he was embarrassed—mortified, even—by his outburst. imagine, a sully, future olo’eyktan, standing there venting about his brother’s reckless behavior to a... gatherer? someone who simply looked after tuk and collected herbs? it felt beneath him somehow, like he should be stronger, more composed. but as much as he tried to justify his shame, it wasn’t that simple. she was more than that, more than just a gatherer in his eyes. did he—did he have a crush on y/n? uh oh. maybe lo’ak had been right all along, teasing him about how often his thoughts wandered her way.

the violet hue of embarrassment tinted his cheeks, and you could see the faint quiver in his tail as it stilled behind him. “i am sorry i-”

you smiled gently, stepping closer, your hand still lightly resting on his arm. “no, do not apologize,” you said, your voice filled with warmth. “you do not have to be strong for me.”

he looked up at you, his amber eyes softening even more, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let your words wash over him. there was something so vulnerable in his gaze, something so open that it made your heart swell. the wind rustled through the trees, and in the quiet of the moment, you could feel the warmth between you growing, like an invisible thread connecting you.

and then, as if realizing just how close you were, neteyam’s eyes flickered over your face, and for the first time, he seemed to really see you—the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, catching in your hair, the soft curve of your lips, the gentle rise and fall of your chest. as neteyam began to relax, his gaze drifted to how beautiful she looked, the delicate beaded necklaces around her neck, each one crafted by her own careful fingers. her top woven from flower vines, had been a gift from her mother, and the way it sat gently against her skin was almost too captivating. oh, he really shouldn’t be looking there—his breath caught in his throat, his tail curling behind him in the faintest of twitches. “you are... beautiful.”

your breath stilled in your chest, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart racing at the softness in his voice, the way his eyes lingered on you. but before you could respond, he quickly looked away, clearly embarrassed by his own admission, his tail swishing behind him awkwardly. “i mean, uh... thank you for listening to me,” he stammered, clearing his throat, “you always know how to make things better.”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart full. “well,” you teased lightly, “it is my job to keep you from completely falling apart, is it not?”

his laugh was soft, but real this time, and the tension that had weighed him down seemed to lift a little more. and then, without missing a beat, you added, “perhaps, if you want to truly get your mind off things, you could take me for a ride on your ikran? i think it would be a fair trade after all that venting.”

his eyes lit up at the suggestion, his tail flicking behind him in excitement, but he quickly cleared his throat, trying to play it off coolly. “i suppose... that could be arranged,” he said, his voice trying to sound composed, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

you laughed, your heart swelling as you watched him slowly come back to himself. “then it is a deal,” you said, stepping back, your eyes twinkling with warmth.

word count: 1,694

if u have an criticism (constructive or not) feel free to voice it ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #avatar way of water #atwow #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam fluff #neteyam oneshot #neteyam drabble #d0llcuries stuff ꫂ ၴႅၴ

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radio-fmm · 10 months ago

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Love recipe

Sanji x gardener!reader

fluff!!!!!!!! Stablished relationship, gn reader, from my gardener!reader series but can be read as a stand alone, I recommend this

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: In which you find Sanji’s cook notebook

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

An endless sea of boxes filled your room in the Sunny, when had you accumulated so much stuff in your time with the strawhats? You didn’t know

You were the kind to keep everything, even the tiniest things held so much memories and meaning that you just couldn’t leave them behind

But you were starting to regret it

A week ago you and Sanji had finally decided to tell the crew that you were dating

After being met with all of your crewmates groans of defeat as they handed a couple berries to Nami you realized maybe you were a little more obvious than you thought

Regardless they were happy and a little relieved that you two had finally settled down

“So is the dumb cook finally moving out? We are tired of you leaving every night to our quarters,” Zoro was quick to ask you looking dead in your bashful eyes, red blush rushing to your face

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Sanji screamed at the swordsman in your defense

As much as you tried to brush the matter off or deny the accusations everyone had witnessed how at very ungodly hours of the night you’d slip into Sanjis bed to sleep soundly and turning back to your own at sunrise thinking no one noticed

“OR you can move in with us!” Your Captain chimed in but his idea was immediately shot down by your boyfriend

So he moved in your room, something you were happy about but right now, as you choose what to keep, throw away or store in boxes to make space for Sanji, was giving you a huge headache.

You sat cross legged in the middle of your floor between boxes looking like cat in hiding as Sanji walked in with a couple of more boxes in hand, settling them on the ground glancing at your form and smiling in endearment

“Almost done my love” he spoke up making you bend backwards and smiling at him

“Let me get up and help you with the rest”

“Absolutely not” something about you even lifting a finger in his presence always made him shiver, there was no way he was gonna allow you carry his heavy boxes, he knew you were capable, he just didn’t wanted you to

It was the third time you had offered to help him so you just gave up and giggled before returning to your task as the blonde went back to make yet another trip from the boys quarters to your room

You let out a defeated sigh as you finally finished up choosing everything that you decided to get rid off. As you got up with the box you tripped over the others that surrounded you making you lose balance, in an attempt to save yourself from a nasty fall, one of Sanjis boxes opened and some of his belongings scattered across the floor

“Dammit” carefully you place your box aside as you hastily take your boyfriend’s personal stuff and return them into the box, not wanting Sanji to think you were snooping round his personal belongings

As you delicately put his box aside, a notebook lays on the ground that you seemed to have missed to put away, you take it but instead of storing it, your hands explore the markings on the cover

‘Sanjis cookbook’ it read in his neat handwriting, you smile to yourself before slowly opening it, the notebook was well loved and you didn’t wanted it to break apart at your touch. The pages were filled with different recipes the cook had came up with during the years, it was sweet how noticeable was the change in his notes when he joined the strawhats, suddenly more intricate and lively dishes appearing on its pages. It was obvious how much he enjoyed being the crews cook, this was a trait of him you always had loved and admired. The cook had created dishes, drinks and pastries inspired by every crew member, some just being fun experimental ones, while others attended to their nutritional needs

Some really tasty meat recipes made for Luffy

An orangy strong drink for Nami

Boring rice-balls with a hint of sake for Zoro

Coffee infused pastries for Robin

Chicken a lá Soda for Franky

Taroyaki for Usopp

Sweet cotton candy for Chopper

Curry for Brook

Some of them with your name on it eventually show up but were all about either your diet or changing some ingredients up in meals you didn’t quite like or would upset your stomach, even your favorite vegetable soup was in there with a marking on it with your name. Expectancy bubbled in your stomach as you waited for dishes made not for you, but inspired by you to appear, but as you kept on reading the pages of everyone’s meals except yours a frown plastered on your lips

“Oh” you thought, maybe you weren’t good enough to be Sanji’s muse. Of course you knew he loved you endlessly, he would assure you everyday and you’ll see it in different ways he had to tell you ‘I love you’ without even speaking it.

The way he would patiently show you how to cut ingredients in the kitchen so you could help him and spend quality time, or the names he’d call you that sweetened your days, how he would always be on your call and foot for whatever you wished or needed, the dreamy look you’d spark on his eyes and even just the full on attention he’d offer you, as if you were the only thing in the world

But still, one would think you’ll at least have one dish dedicated to you after all the love he exuded in your presence

As you gave up and started to close the notebook, you saw a page near the end with your name on it, making your eyes grow wide in joy. You open it to find not a dish, but a whole different section of the notebook just for you, the cook had even drawn tiny hearts after your name

Pink dusted your face and a bright smile grew on your lips as you admired the dishes Sanji had crafted with such love and dedication, recognizing some of them and even remembering how he had asked you to taste test them in the past. You were moved, over the moon wasn’t enough of an expression to understand how you were feeling, no one had ever shown this much appreciation for you, small tears peaked at the corner of your eyes of the fullness you felt. How could you ever return such a gesture? Such love declaration that you didn’t even were supposed to know about?

You return the notebook to its rightful place before standing back on your feet and taking your box towards the door that slowly opened revealing your tall blonde handsome of a boyfriend with the last box

“Sorry it took so long sunlight, Luffy asked me for another snack and I ha-“ he was cut off by the biggest warmest hug he had ever received in his life, dropping the box as your hands found a spot on his neck and your lips pecked his before hiding your face in his neck, your feet tip toeing so you could reach

The action took Sanji by surprise, making him blush and stand frozen in place at your sudden affection that he still found difficult to come around, always being used to be the more affectionate one until you showed up and made him know how much loved he deserved back

“Is everything alright my love?”

“Yes darling, everything’s amazing”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Omg they’re back I’m so happy!!!! Hope you enjoy and remember you can request anything you wanna see about these two or just anything One Piece related technically

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lovelyatomicpeace · 4 months ago

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Guiding Light

Plot: Steve suddenly lost his father and doesn't know what to do, but luckily y/n is there for him.

Warnings: Sadness, crying, comfort, flashback

A little ff that I created from an idea that came to mind. Enjoy ❤️

As the sun began its slow descent behind the treetops of Hawkins, the air filled with the cool bite of autumn, Y/n ran down the familiar road toward Steve's house. His heart was pounding, not just from sprinting, but from the weight of urgency and grief. The news of her father's sudden death had reached her painfully, like broken glass on a marble floor with which she felt all too intimate.

Steve and his father had never had such a close bond. Their conversations were usually abrupt, punctuated by misunderstandings and the silent tension of unfulfilled expectations. Y/n had watched from afar, every argument and every harsh word exchanged between them etched pain in her heart. She knew Steve needed her now more than ever. As she reached the front steps of Steve's house, she hesitated for a fleeting moment. She could hear the sound of muffled voices inside: friends and family gathered, each carrying the weight of their grief. But that was the last thing he thought about as he stretched toward the doorbell. She was not there for pleasantries; she was there to be his anchor. The door opened and there appeared Steve, disheveled and pale, his brown eyes wide and glassy.

Before she could even formulate a greeting, he collapsed in her arms, the dam breaking as he sobbed into her shoulder. It was the kind of heartbreak that echoed in the pit of her stomach; she held him tighter, feeling his tears against her neck, the tremors of loss shaking them both.

"I can't..." he gasped between breaths.

Y/N tightened his grip, cradling him as he cried. "It's okay, Steve. I'm here," he whispered, in a calm voice as if he could channel his pain through words.

The usually cavernous house was now full of people: friends and familiar faces were scattered, hushed whispers mingled with the subdued background of soft music coming from the living room. Lucas sat with Max, their usual quarrels absent. Dustin was solemn, preoccupied with scraping a nonexistent splinter in the sofa. Robin and Nancy clutched each other, offering silent support, while Jonathan and Will exchanged glances that said much about the pain they shared. Mike sat off to the side, fingers intertwined with El's, both looking lost. As the commotion hummed slightly behind her, Y/N guided Steve into the living room, away from prying eyes. The light filtering through the drawn curtains cast shadows but also warmth; it felt like a cocoon, a safe space in which to share his vulnerabilities. Gently, she led him to the couch, where they sank together, the outside world temporarily forgotten: one of his knees resting on the floor as he bent over her. She ran her fingers through his hair, reassuring him, rooting him on.

"I couldn't even say goodbye to him," Steve said in a choked voice, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. "We had to make things right-it was my last chance, and I blew it."

"You didn't ruin anything, Steve," Y/N reassured him, in a firm voice. "You loved him, even with all the hard things. That's all that matters now."

"Yes, but it wasn't enough," he murmured, lowering his gaze to the floor. "He never understood me. My whole life has been a struggle for his approval that I never got."

"Sometimes people are just ... complicated. Your relationship was not easy, but you still meant a lot to him. You were his son," Y/N replied softly. "You showed him love in the ways you could."

"Why did he have to be such a jerk to me?" he croaked, wiping tears from her face with the back of her hand. "He was so consumed with his life that he never stopped to listen ... to understand anything about it." Y/n nodded, her heart aching. She had witnessed Steve's struggles, his attempts to gain acceptance and recognition from a father who had inadvertently rejected him. The loss of a parent was complex enough, but when mixed with unresolved feelings, it turned into something even more bitter.

Steve stood in front of her, lost, remembering his last argument with his dad:

It was one of those stormy afternoons when the thunder rumbling overhead echoed the tensions brewing in the Harrington mansion. A heavy downpour painted its chaos against the large windows, mirroring the struggle that was brewing between Steve and his father. The opulent surroundings of the estate looked like a gilded prison. Steve stood defiantly in the spacious living room, his muscles tense with anger.

"Dad, I'm not going to trade school! You can't make me!" shouted Steve, the resolve in his voice trembling to the edge of desperation.

His father, Robert, sat behind a polished mahogany desk, his fingers intertwined under his chin. The man was the epitome of success, a tycoon respected and feared in equal measure. "I can and I will, Steven. You don't even want to follow in my footsteps. You want to waste your life chasing ... what? You want still to work for a stupid video store? You're not cut out for that."

"I'm not cut out for it either!" spat Steve, gesturing to the room full of memorabilia, awards and an expectation he couldn't stand. "I hate your idea of success. You want me to be your perfect little clone, and I won't do it! I refuse to be part of your empire!"

Robert's eyes squinted, his voice deceptively calm. "There are choices in life that shape your future, Steve. You think you have it all figured out, but you're just a child playing at adulthood. I have sacrificed so much for this family; the least you can do is live up to the legacy."

"Sacrifice?" Steve's voice cracked, the weight of lost years overwhelming him. "You never sacrificed anything for me! You were too busy building your empire to notice me!"

"Do you think this is easy? Do you have any idea how hard I worked?" retorted Robert, rising from his chair, anger exploding. "Look at you, look at what you are! A failure! You're a disappointment!"

Disappointment. The word hung in the air, choking, as if it had just settled in Steve's chest. That word shattered something deep inside him, igniting a longing for freedom he had never known existed.

"That's not true!" he cried back, hot tears filling his eyes. "You've never even tried to understand me. All you care about is your image, your successes! I don't want any of that!"

"I am your father! I'm trying to prepare you for life, and this is what you do? You throw everything away for ... you for nothing?"

Steve seethed with anger and pain, the mix of emotions contending inside him until he could take no more. "You know what? Maybe I don't need you at all!" he shouted before running from the room, tears streaming freely down his cheeks.

As he left the mansion, the storm was equal to the turmoil in his heart. He rushed out into the rain, letting the deluge wash over him. He could not face his father, the anger swirling in his chest was a tangible entity demanding to be released. It felt like the beginning of the end, a farewell to a future he had not chosen...

Suddenly y/n's hand on his cheek brings him back to reality. Steve looked up, searching her face for answers, something she could not give. "What good is love without understanding?" The question remained there, charging the air with a melancholy that enveloped them like a fog. Silence fell between them, filled only by Steve's occasional quiet sobs. It was then that she reached out her hand, placing it on his knee, a gentle but firm gesture. "I'm not going anywhere, you know that, right? You're not alone in this." Y/N says felt a chill run through her. "It's the only love we have," she said softly, and it's still valid." A faint ghost of a smile ripped through his tears as he wiped his face with the cuffs of his sweater.

"But I don't want you to feel like you have to put on a brave face," she murmured, her heart pounding. "It's okay to be broken. You don't have to go through this alone."

"I feel so lost," he confessed, her voice broken again. "What do I do now?"

"Take it one day at a time," Y/N replied, her heart breaking for him. "You let yourself grieve. You let yourself feel everything: the anger, the sadness, even the joy of memories. And when you're ready, you can start to heal."

Steve looked at her, and for a moment the heaviness lightened, if only a little. "Thank you, Y/N," he said, in a firmer voice. "You always know what to say."

"Not always," he admitted, with a sweet smile on his lips. "Only when it's about you."

"What if I can't get over this?"

Y/N leaned closer, their knees brushing. "You will, Steve. Just like you fought for everything else. You have friends who care about you, who want to help you. Lean on us." He nodded, but uncertainty hovered in his eyes. The truth was stark; he was afraid.

After a few beats, it was his turn to unleash his feelings. "And ... you don't have to pretend with me," she murmured, "about your father or how you feel. This is a safe place, okay?" He inhaled sharply, studying her face. "What if I want to pretend everything is okay?"

"Then we can pretend together."

A moment passed; their gazes met, understanding flowed silently between them. It was a moment of connection that was full of hope, even in the midst of pain. Steve's brown eyes shone with a potential nuance: something unspoken that hovered beautifully in the air between them. They stayed like that for a while: an embrace, a clinging to each other's presence. Outside, the world continued to struggle with the weight of their shared loss, but in those moments, they both began to feel a glimmer of warmth; a reminder that in the deepest despair, the bonds of friendship could shine brightly enough to illuminate the path ahead, even if that path was shrouded in uncertainty.

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flowerbetweenfangs · 7 months ago

Text

Cream Filling: Chapter 10

This is the grand finale, folks. I hope you enjoy.

This is part of an ongoing series. To read the previous entry, go here!

Elle winced as her mattress hit the side of the building. The sound echoed across the morning air. A few curtains pulled back, or binds cracked as curious faces peered out of windows. Once they saw the boxes, they quickly closed again.

Crossing her arms, Elle looked up at Wrecks as he pulled. He’d dressed casually for the day, but even his black shirt was already soaked with sweat. His spectacles kept sliding down his nose, threatening to slip off.

“Sorry!” He called back, before giving the silken ropes another yank. The mattress slowly ascended upward, occasionally swinging toward a lower apartment balcony and swatting the backdoor. “I’ve almost got it!”

Hopefully her new neighbors weren’t too angry about the early activities.

“You sure it’s a good idea for him to be handling that all by himself?” Aki asked as he walked by with a few boxes in his arms. Their contents rattled and he smiled apologetically, tail thrashing around as he shifted to keep his balance. Despite his fur still being partially in the “winter coat” stage, he had elected to wear a pullover hooded sweater and sweatpants.

Resting his chin on the top box, he watched the drider with fascination.

“He insisted.” Elle pinched the bridge of her nose as the mattress hit a window on its way up, before finally sliding over her own balcony.

Hopefully, she would be able to enjoy some time in the new space, maybe set up some chairs or a few plants to make the space more liveable. Maybe see the sunset or sunrise on days off. It would be a good spot to charge crystals and any charms, should the need arise. But for now…

“You sure the healers cleared him?” Aki winced as something thumped inside the apartment.

“I don’t think it would have changed anything.” Elle looked the catboy up and down, before giving him a knowing look. “If I recall correctly, I’ve had to keep you away from the heavier stuff, too.”

“I’m not human, so I don’t adhere to your standards.” Aki stuck out his tongue, before he flitted into the building, attempting to keep his armful upright. Like with any other job, he was fast and efficient. He’d been eyeing the hefty boxes, claiming it would be okay if they both lifted, but she was sure he’d find a way to take most of the weight.

Following after him with a box of her own, Elle watched as he bobbed and weaved up the stairs, not missing a beat.

This was the start of the next chapter.

The morning air tasted great. It was chilly enough to not be miserable, but also warm enough to not need a jacket. The apartment complex was taller than the last one, a lot closer to the Mammon district, and the prices reflected it.

But she’d be closer to everyone.

Once inside, Elle pushed the door open. Boxes took up almost every spare space on the walls, and the pathway to move through the ever growing labyrinth was narrow, but it was bigger than her old place. And her new bedroom was actually a room with walls, rather than a dedicated space for her bed.

Wrecks was splayed out, arms and legs spread so wide they hung over the edges of the mattress. Panting, he propped himself up on an elbow and looked up at her, grinning ear to ear.

“See? Easy!” He panted and wiped sweat from his brow, the grin spreading wider.

The chitin on three of his legs was thinner and slightly discolored compared to the rest, but it would smooth out overtime. Apparently it would always remain marbled, a sign of the injury he’d faced and overcome. Despite bemoaning that it would make him appear far more battle hardened than he truly was, Wrecks still carried himself with pride.

“My hero.” Elle offered a hand, and he took it.

Hauling the Drider up into a sitting position, she gave him a bottle of water and a rag. He didn’t let go of her hand, and rested his cheek against the back of it. The gesture made the collar of his shirt bunch up, dipping low enough to show the bandages still stuck to his chest. Tinges of pink still clung to his skin, a stark contrast to the dark grey.

“You know, I need my hands to unpack.” She let him hold them anyway.

“Sorry.” His eyes flicked up to the ceiling. “I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to put a web in here…”

He rocked side to side, finally letting go of her hand and looking at the mess in the living room.

“Although I guess I can sleep on the couch.”

“I don’t have a couch,” Elle chuckled. Maybe she could buy one, but it wasn’t in the cards at the moment. The move had drained most of her savings, but once the season was out, she’d start to come out ahead by a large margin.

“Right… Tiny space.” Wrecks frowned, brows coming together. “Maybe I can get you one as a housewarming present…”

“What about these?” Elle went to a box in the corner and pulled out silken sheets, arching a brow at him. The color was a plain cream, but once it was spread out, there were complicated designs and images woven into the pattern. It was in the language of the Deep, so she wasn’t able to understand it, but Wrecks promised that it was just old myths and legends.

“I’m starting to think you’re giving me so much stuff because you like making it.”

She stuck out her tongue, and Wrecks gave a noncommittal shrug.

Horac’s footsteps were heavy as he approached with a clipboard, clicking a pen rhythmically.

“Make sure to pass this over to the landlords,” He used the pen to scratch at one of his tusks. “They’re going to nickel and dime you for every scratch and chip in the paint. Everything looks up to code, but I’d keep an eye on the heating unit when it gets cold and see about getting a portable heater in case things go sideways.”

“I appreciate it,” Elle gave a smile as she took the clipboard and glanced over everything.

“I’d still do another once over, just to make sure,” Horac grunted as he looked for a place to sit, before shrugging.

Definitely going to get a couch.

Elle set the clipboard on the counter and moved to unpack a few plates.

The landlords had placed a few flyers on the counters advertising local eateries in the Mammon district, where one meal probably cost more than an entire week’s pay at Ramses’ Brew. A pink banner ad showed a pair embracing, the woman throwing her head back as the man kissed her neck and collarbone.

“Come find me…”

It had been only a few weeks since the incident at Temptation, but it was already feeling like a lifetime ago. The news had simply listed the situation as an “act of dragon” which left a few injured, but thankfully no casualties.

Ash had been hamming up his condition, getting a lot of community support and adoration. Donations of all kinds had been funneled into the club, speeding up the repairs. He had kept true to his word and not contacted Elle since, but Cadence occasionally sent her a message.

The club would probably be open soon, with a party that would be talked about for years to come.

Elle could imagine that the incubus would be fed for a while even without their company.

“I don’t know about you,” Aki groaned as he sauntered into the kitchen. “But moving boxes around first thing in the morning works up an appetite.”

Pulling open the fridge door, he stared at the empty shelves expectantly. When no food magically appeared, he sighed and closed it.

“I could go for something to eat.” He looked around at the boxes and sighed, rubbing his face. “You only had a studio, how did you manage to get so much stuff ?”

“It just seems like a lot because we’re moving it around.” Elle could see Wrecks shuffling around in the mess, breaking down boxes and attempting to put things in their respective rooms.

“I’ve got food coming.” Elle assured him, checking her phone as it chirped. A small icon on a map blinked in and out, showing the delivery was on the way. “I tried to get something for everyone. Didn’t want to have you guys doing all this for nothing.”

At least it was cheaper than using a moving company, or worse, a teleportation spell.

“You don’t have to do that,” Horac waved a hand through the air dismissively, checking his phone. “I’m meeting up with the girls after this to have brunch and do the hand off. Their school’s got some career day coming up, or something. Apparently working as a cook for a Demon Prince is something everyone wants to hear about. Haven’t had time to breathe between everything that’s going on.”

“I’ll take his share, then.” Aki wrapped his arms around Elle and planted a wet kiss on her cheek with a wet smack. “My hero.”

Rolling her eyes, Elle slipped out of the hold. But she couldn’t help but smile.

“Thanks for everything.” She smiled at Horac. “It’s nice to have… Something of a dad around.”

Horac rolled his eyes and ruffled Elle’s hair with a massive hand, pulling it loose from its ponytail.

“Brush your teeth twice and behave yourself,” He snorted and double checked his phone as it chirped.

“Gotta go.”

As he shuffled out, Elle sighed. Even though he claimed he and Bea weren’t going to ever be romantically involved again, there was a lot more warmth and light when he spoke about her and his daughters.

“You’ve got brunch coming? I’ll order dinner, then.” Wrecks scuttled in, holding a shampoo bottle and shower pouf. “I know some human friendly restaurants nearby!”

“I’ll check online to see if I can find a few odds and ends you’re missing,” Aki rifled through a few boxes, checking their contents and shuffling things around. “Gotta make this place last a while, you know?” His brows shot up when he saw the contents of a box, before he mischievously chuckled, tail swishing back and forth.

“Hey, how come I didn’t see this set before?” He waggled his eyebrows at Elle, pulling up a still packaged lingerie set.

“I think I know what I’m going to set up for our ‘lunch’.”

Wrecks was suddenly behind Aki, who whirled around and flattened himself against the boxes. His eyes went wide as he stared up at the drider.

“Let’s focus on helping Shepard unpack, hm?” The two locked gazes for a moment, before Wrecks shook his head and scampered back to the bedroom.

Aki slid up to Elle as she started to put things away in the kitchen.

“Do you think you could possibly talk him into–”

Elle shot him a look, and Aki chuckled nervously, holding his hands up in surrender.

***

Once night had fallen, dinner was eaten, and the boxes were all unpacked, Elle collapsed onto her mattress. The act of pulling the blankets over herself seemed to be too much, so she sat in the dark, letting the cool air roll over her.

When she started to close her eyes, a knock echoed through the apartment.

Sitting up, she drug herself off the bed and walked to the front door. Peering through the peephole, she saw Ramses standing in the hallway.

Unlocking the door, she opened it.

“I’m sorry, I should have messaged you that I was coming over, but it got busy at the bar and–” He yelped when she pulled him inside.

“It’s also three am and I don’t want to wake up my new neighbors!” Elle hissed as she led him to the living room.

Ramses stumbled, quickly righting himself as he nearly tripped over a broken down box. Shaking his foot, he looked around for a place to sit, then stood up straight as possible. There was a loud rustling as he clutched a plastic bag protectively.

“I’m glad that your move went smoothly,” Ramses pointedly looked around, a slight hint of a frown as he took in the still remaining clutter. “And I hope you’re settling in well.”

“I had a lot of help.”

“Yes,” Ramses smirked, setting the bag down on the coffee table. “My morning staff. Maybe I could get Chorus in here to help finish the clean up.”

Going to the kitchen, Elle got him a glass of water. Ramses stared at it skeptically, before taking a sip. His eyes flicked to the advertisements for Temptation and he scowled.

“Has Asmodeus left you alone?”

“Yes.” Elle promised. “I hope he hasn’t been bothering you–”

Sighing, Ramses pinched the bridge of his nose. Muttering in Infernal, he set the glass down. A black handprint remained. Elle cringed, glad she had paid next to nothing for it.

“Our interactions have been limited, all things considered.” Ramses reached into his pocket and put on a pair of gloves before picking up the glass again. “But considering our positions, we’ll never truly be able to leave each other alone. I know once he reopens Temptation, I’ll have to go there as Mammon.”

His tongue flicked nervously across his bottom lip. After a pregnant pause, he cleared his throat.

“Speaking of, we’re meeting about that soon. Certain things have come to light, and the Princes want to come together and discuss plans moving forward.”

“Are you leaving for a while?” Elle tried to imagine all the Princes around a table or in a conference hall, arguing over one another. Asmodeus and Mammon glaring at one another, trying to take from and bait the other to do something.

Shaking his head, Ramses suddenly became very invested in his glass. Swirling around the liquid inside, he pondered over his next words.

“Yes, but I won’t be going alone. It could take a while. I have to take Chorus as my right hand. However, since I’m Mammon, Prince of Greed…” He reached a hand into the water. It shimmered as he pulled out a red piece of paper.

Power sparked, and the paper sizzled, the moisture quickly quelling any flames that would have formed. Ramses winced and palmed the ticket, smoke curling between his fingers.

“And this is why I hire people to do my work.” The corner of his lip twitched as he clutched the paper, before forcing his face to relax.

“Anyway, I’m allowed to invite more than I need.” Slowly, he unfurled his fingers and offered his hand to her.

Taking the ticket, Elle stared at the seven symbols on the edges. One for each Prince. Running a finger over them, she clutched the paper tightly.

“Why me?”

“Because I wanted to bring you.” Ramses winced at his words, holding up a hand as if he expected her to protest. “I wanted the rest of the Princes to know who you were to me. It’s an open invitation, no pressure to come. If you don’t, I’ll offer it to another member of the staff. But since you’re head server–”

“I’m the only full time server.” Staring at the ticket, Elle couldn’t help but smile. “Aki’s a floater.”

A new title? Hopefully it came with a pay rise. Although that likely meant that she was going to have to start shouldering more responsibility.

“Still the head.” Ramses ruffled her hair. The warmth radiating from him sent a tingle through her. “I figured after all you’ve done for the restaurant, it was the least I could do to show my appreciation.”

Elle turned the ticket over in her hands. All she’d done. That was certainly one way of putting everything that had happened in the time they’d spent together.

At least he viewed it fondly.

“So, it’s a date?”

“Only if you want it to be.” Ramses let her go and rubbed his eyes. Walking over to the coffee table, he went through the bag and pulled out a candle.

“By the way, this is your housewarming gift.”

Unscrewing the lid, he blew on the candle’s wick. There was a rush of heat, and a small flame flickered, lighting up the room. It looked like normal fire at first, but there was something slightly off about the color.

More power crackled through the air, humming softly. It softened, but there was still a faint sound.

“If you ever need me, just use this candle.” Ramses picked up the lid and snuffed the fire. “It doesn’t matter what time of day, or if the bar is open, or if you think it’s not important. I want you to feel safe, no matter what. Since you’re now technically in my domain, I want you under my protection.”

Elle stared at the candle, power still sparking above the wick. Smoke spiraled against the glass container, recoiling back when it collided with the walls.

“Thank you.” Taking it, she made sure to place it in the middle of the coffee table. “Do I have to be a dragon to light it?”

“No, just blow on it like you’re trying to put it out.” Ramses blew lightly, stirring a few papers on the table. “It registers breath, so an accidental wind or breeze won’t light it. And call my true name. I’ll be at your side one way or another.”

Closing the distance between them, Elle pulled Ramses into an embrace. He was scorching hot against her. Their warmths and breath mingled for a moment.

Arms encircled her waist, and Ramses let out a sigh. His breath was hot, filling the surrounding area with smoke and steam. It seemed to deflate his entire body, and he leaned against Elle.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally pulled back. Up close, it was easy to see his eyes were ringed with black and bloodshot. The wrinkles in his uniform, how his hair was messy and only pulled back, not brushed.

“Have you slept since Temptation?”

Ramses scratched the back of his head, giving a forced smile.

“That obvious, huh?” He rubbed his eyes as a few tears welled up. “I’ve been… Working a lot. I was preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. In case I’m not able to keep running the restaurant, I was making a line of succession. I’ve been looking to hire more night shift staff, and… Well, let’s say you will be the head server soon.”

Elle thought of ordering around underlings. She couldn’t see herself doing it. Aki, maybe. Or Horac. The boarman already seemed to be a manager.

“If you do have to leave…”

“I’ll make sure you’re all taken care of,” He promised, taking her face in his hands. For a moment, it seemed like he was going in for a kiss, but he rested his forehead against hers. “I promise. I’ll do what I can.”

She smiled, and shook her head.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?”

Ramses nodded, pulling back again.

“Interviews will start in a week or so. I’ll go over the applications with you all to see what we can do, yeah?”

He looked ready to go into a long spiel, so slipped her hands between his and cupped the demon’s face, locking their gazes.

“I’ve got tomorrow off to finish setting up the apartment, why don’t you spend the night?”

Ramses looked around at the mess, then gave a quick nod.

“If my performance isn’t up to par,” he slipped off his vest and started to unbutton his shirt. “sorry–”

Elle put her hand on the back of his. “It doesn’t have to be anything like that.”

Ramses stared at her hand, then snorted.

“I still have to take a shower.”

Elle looked at his hands, then wondered how she was going to get the sludge out of the tub. Then again, it hadn’t been nearly as bad for the past couple of weeks. Maybe it got worse the longer he went without turning into his dragon form?

They went to the bathroom, with Ramses stripping down completely, although he kept his glasses on. There was a pink tint on his chest, but it had significantly faded. The glow over his heart was still bright as ever. Black scales still covered him, although noticeably less than before, shimmering in the dim light.

Once the shower started, Elle slipped out of her sweaty clothes and stepped behind Ramses. He seemed perplexed as his glasses fogged up, then pulled them off.

“You weren’t kidding, you’re really tired.” Elle gingerly took the glasses and opened the curtain to set them on the edge of the sink.

When she closed the curtain again, Ramses was leaning against the back wall, eyes closed.

“Why don’t we switch spots? That way you can at least get the worst of the funk off you.”

“Do I smell that bad?” Ramses lifted his arm and sniffed the pit. After a moment, he grimaced and looked around.

Picking up the shampoo bottle, Ramses’s nostrils flared, and he arched a brow.

“Why does this smell like a flower that’s been doused with funeral perfume?” He sniffed it a couple more times. “You’ve never smelled like this.”

“It was the cheapest one the store had,” Elle stuck out her tongue, embarrassed. “My usual stuff was out of stock. What kind do you get?”

“There’s a specific brand in the Satan district, if you can believe it. Very good for getting all sorts of things out of fabric and hair alike.”

It figured he’d probably get the expensive things.

“Well, I just have this, so…”

Rolling his eyes, Ramses let the water run over him. Black swirled in the water, and she could see thick black scales on his forearms and the back of his hands. The tips of his fingers tapered into claws, but it looked like they had been filed or trimmed down.

Taking the shampoo, Elle worked it into a lather in her palms, then started to scrub Ramses’ tresses. They were long and thick, and soft to the touch. A shine similar to oil remained on it. Although Elle wasn’t sure if that was because of grease or how it naturally looked.

Her fingers became tangled in the strands, but she resisted the urge to tug or yank them free. It took a few cycles to finally get through to the actual hair before it finally felt like she was cleaning. A few scales on the scalp were thick against her fingertips, but Ramses didn’t flinch or show pain when she scrubbed them.

Tilting his face toward the ceiling, Ramses gave her more access. His shoulders drooped, tension leaving his muscles.

“You still doing okay?”

“Yes. Although I think I’ll need some of that oil you used to fend off the concubi to make sure I don’t smell this the entire night. Maybe I’ll bring it in the next time I have to see Asmodeus.”

He seemed more pleased with the soap’s smell, although less than impressed with how watered down it was. Elle half expected him to break out in hives, but he remained stoic.

As she scrubbed his back, Ramses’ whole body shuddered.

Elle yanked her hand back, expecting to see a bruise or wound, but it looked normal, if a little sudsy.

“Did I do it too hard?”

Ramses shook his head. “Sorry, I just… I haven’t had this done for me in a very long time. I forgot what it was like to have someone at your back like this.”

Elle wrapped her arms around him, letting the shower run over their entangled forms. Ramses leaned into the water, bracing his hands against the wall. More inky black trickled down the tiles and into the tub.

Between the scales, she could start to see bits of his skin, soft and new. It wrinkled under the water, becoming raised and puffy. Ramses didn’t seem to mind, and brought his hands closer to the shower head. The bits of scales sloughed off completely, splashing as they fell.

Once it had started to run cold, Elle turned the knobs and got them both towels. Ramses was staring at his hands, perplexed by the soft skin that covered it now. Black droplets still welled, but it had lost most of its sheen.

It would be a pain to clean up the tub, but that could be done tomorrow. Elle wondered if there was a sort of line she could put down in the future that kept the drain uncovered, but shielded the rest of it.

Once they’d dried off, Elle sprayed down the sheets. Ramses raised another brow.

“It’s to protect them from… Stains.” She couldn’t hide her giggle. “I found it at a local market, usually it’s supposed to keep blood out, but the goblin running the stall swore that it was useful for all sorts of bodily fluids.”

Nodding at Ramses’ hands, she looked at the dirty towel as Ramses tossed it into the laundry basket. Those days were going to be interesting. But at least she had an in unit washer and dryer instead of having to haul it to the mat or down a bunch of stair flights.

“I see.” Ramses ran a hand over the sheets, then seemed satisfied when there were no streaks left behind. “Wrecks did a wonderful job with this.”

He stared down at his towel, then frowned.

“I don’t think I have anything that fits you, sorry.”

Shrugging, Ramses let the towel drop and sat on the foot of the mattress.

“We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times, although I think it’s best if you answer the door.” He fell backwards, arms spread, and stared up at the ceiling. Hair forming a ring around him, he let out a content sigh.

Slipping in next to him, Elle pulled him up the pillows and threw the comforter over them. He adjusted the position of his head multiple times, trying to make sure his horns wouldn’t rip through fabric, and finally seemed satisfied.

Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her chest between his shoulders and tangled their legs together. Resting her chin at the crook of his neck, she closed her eyes.

Ramses’ heart raced under her fingers, but his whole body relaxed at her touch. Within a few moments, his chest began to rise and fall with the rhythm of sleep.

The future was uncertain, but seemed brighter than ever.

Elle had so many paths in front of her. The restaurant might be her career, or a placeholder until she found something different. The staff might go in and out of her life, but they all had a camaraderie that couldn’t be denied. She just knew that no matter what, this feeling was one that she wanted to cling to. One of peace and belonging.

She never felt more filled with happiness and hope.

The possibilities were endless.

But for now, her focus was sleep.

#monster love #monster lover #monster x human #monster romance #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monsterfucker #terato #monster smut #cream filling

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girl-next-door-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Then There Was You

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: A chance encounter in an airport at a magical time of year might make a believer out of even the most logical of men.

Word Count: 2076 words

Prompt: Airport. Mutual Pining. Eyes meeting across the room. “You feel like home.”

A/N: This is the first of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the wonderful @savvy-devine666 who put these prompts together for the enigmatic Mr Holmes. Hope you enjoy it, I may have got a little carried away.

************************************************************************

In the departure lounge, the holiday spirit is palpable, creating a lively and enchanting atmosphere. The glittering decorations and twinkling lights transform the space into a festive haven, immersing travelers in the magic of the season. As passengers navigate through the terminals, the air is infused with a sense of excitement and anticipation, each step bringing them closer to the warmth of family and the joy of holiday celebrations.

Sparkling lights, glittering ornaments and garlands filled with holly and tinsel seem to adorn every surface, forcing the joviality of the season upon all who enter this artificial winter wonderland.

The sounds of classic Christmas carols fill the air, creating a harmonious backdrop to the lively conversations and laughter. The departure lounge becomes a stage for a symphony of joy, where people from all walks of life unite in the shared celebration of the season. The place somehow feels more than just a transit point, it feels almost held outside of time itself, where anything could be possible.

Mycroft Holmes, ever the embodiment of control and authority, sat in the plush surroundings of the first-class lounge, a haven for the elite travelers. The atmosphere exudes sophistication, but the irritation on Mycroft's face betrayed the inconvenience he felt. The hum of quiet conversations and the clinking of glasses momentarily ceased as an announcement crackled over the speakers, signaling yet another delay.

His brow furrowed in annoyance. The delay was unacceptable, a disruption to the carefully orchestrated schedule he had in place. He retrieved his phone from the pocket of his impeccably tailored suit and began to type furiously. His fingers danced across the screen in a rapid and precise ballet, as if Mycroft believed his typing could somehow command the weather outside. His gaze never wavered from the device, as though the intensity of his focus could single-handedly rectify the situation.

The snowfall outside the window continued unabated, indifferent to Mycroft's attempts to influence it. Despite the annoyance etched on his face, Mycroft remained the epitome of composure. The delay might persist, but Mycroft Holmes, with his phone as a weapon and his ice-cold demeanour as a shield, was determined to restore order to the chaos, even if only within the confines of the first-class lounge.

Mycroft's discerning gaze swept across the crowded first-class lounge, his mind momentarily shifting from the pressing matters of flight delays to the intriguing spectacle of human interaction unfolding before him.

His attention settled on a peculiar scene: a man, who seemed to have overindulged a little at the lounge bar, engaged in rapid-fire conversation with a young woman who appeared young enough to be his daughter. She seemed uncomfortable with the invasive nature of his questioning, but the man appeared unperturbed by her avoiding answering.

Further down the bar, an elderly gentleman called the barman by his first name. Mycroft's keen observation suggested a regular patron, a man who had traversed the halls of this exclusive lounge on numerous occasions. The over-familiarity hinted at a sense of entitlement, a privilege earned through repeated visits, and he couldn’t help but smile at the deference the bar staff paid the man. Clearly a big tipper, Mycroft surmised.

As Mycroft continued to survey of the room, he noted that everyone appeared to be bathed in the fake joviality of the festive season, papering over the cracks in their lives, and Mycroft wondered why people felt the need to cling so desperately to the promise of hope and possibility during the festive season.

Mycroft, usually the embodiment of control and emotional detachment, found himself in the throes of an unexpected internal turmoil as he observed the attractive figure across the bar absentmindedly stirring their drink. The subtle shift in his composed demeanour betrayed a rare vulnerability, and an uncharacteristic ache in his chest stirred his emotions. In his mind, he grappled with the unfamiliarity of this emotional response.

Blinking rapidly, he attempted to shake off the unusual sensations and refocus his thoughts. This wasn't the Mycroft Holmes he knew; the man who thrived on logic and control. It had to be the effects of sitting in what amounted to an oversized festive snow globe for far too long.

Despite the internal turmoil, Mycroft couldn't resist the urge to deduce. It was a coping mechanism, a way to regain a semblance of control. Not married, not romantically attached: these deductions flowed effortlessly. The presence of a book in your bag and your apparent nonchalance about the flight delays intrigued him further. As he continued to observe from a distance, Mycroft found himself at a crossroads, torn between the familiar comfort of his calculated control and the allure of exploring beneath the surface, the possibility of creating a connection with someone who had unexpectedly captured his attention.

In that unguarded moment, just as Mycroft was contemplating the probability of instigating a conversation with you which would make him somehow favourable, your eyes met his. Time seemed to stand still as a profound shift occurred within him. The man who thrived on logic and science, the master of cause and effect, found himself inexplicably lost in the depths of an unfamiliar emotional landscape.

The carefully calculated moves in the chess game of life, the strategic thinking that defined Mycroft Holmes, dissipated like mist in the face of an unexpected connection. It was as if the world had momentarily slipped from the moorings of reason, and he was caught in the uncharted territory of raw, unfiltered emotion. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken possibilities, and Mycroft Holmes, the orchestrator of order, found himself suspended in the magic of a moment that defied the logic he held so dear.

As Mycroft was caught in the whirlwind of his own thoughts and emotions, unbeknownst to him, you had not been quite as passive as he believed. Upon entering the lounge, your attention had been immediately drawn to the striking man in the finely tailored suit. The ambient glow of twinkling fairy lights seemed to play upon his features, creating an aura of both mystery and sophistication. Your observant eyes didn't just see the meticulously groomed exterior; they delved deeper into the subtle expressions that danced across his face; stern, frustrated, yet undeniably captivating.

In the backdrop of the festive ambiance, you began to weave your own internal narrative, a fictional backstory for the handsome stranger engrossed in the world within his phone. The tapping fingers and furrowed brow sparked your imagination, and you found yourself concocting scenarios that might explain his intense focus. Perhaps he was a high-powered executive handling a critical business deal, his mind navigating the complexities of global affairs. Or maybe, he was a brilliant doctor, eager to get back to the hospital where he worked in order to save the lives of several orphans who had been in a horrific accident, him being the only one who could perform the surgery. The finely tailored suit hinted at a life of privilege and authority, but the flicker of frustration painted a more human portrait beneath the veneer of sophistication.

Your eyes met Mycroft's, and both of you instinctively looked away, a fleeting moment of embarrassment shared in the silence of the lounge. Yet, as if drawn by an unseen force, your eyes found each other again and a soft smile graced your lips.

Caught off guard by the unexpected warmth of the encounter, Mycroft returned your smile nervously. His usual calm exterior seemed to falter in the face of these unfamiliar feelings bubbling inside him, threatening to breach the carefully constructed walls of his emotional reserve. It was a sensation he wasn't accustomed to, and the vulnerability it brought unsettled him.

Your hand rose in a small wave, and Mycroft hesitated for a moment before reciprocating. This was ridiculous. He had faced the most powerful people in the world, had even given some of them a dressing down, he could walk to the end of the bar and strike up a conversation with an attractive stranger. Surely it wasn’t that difficult. Yet, here he was, feeling like a teenager with their first crush.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, he got to his feet and navigated his way towards you.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" Mycroft's voice betrayed a hint of vulnerability, a departure from the usual confidence that defined him. You, however, seemed not to notice his nerves.

"That would be lovely."

As the two of you engaged in slightly awkward small talk, there was a palpable tension in the air. Mycroft couldn't shake the feeling that he was not excelling in this arena, that the art of forging emotional connections eluded him. The potential for something wonderful lingered in the air, but he couldn't shake the sense that it was slipping through his fingers.

"So… are you headed home for Christmas?" Mycroft asked; a question he knew the answer to but felt compelled to inquire nonetheless. The conversation seemed to teeter perilously on the edge of uncertainty.

"Yes. I suppose so." You said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… home is such a strange concept. Somewhere can feel like home despite it being the first time you are there. People can feel like home. Not just family, not just the familiar. Have you ever been somewhere and felt like you have been there before? Like you are remembering a place you have never visited. Or met someone who just feels like they are new but also so familiar? Sorry, that took rather a strange turn. When people talk about home, they mean the place they come from, not some abstract concept." You gave him a bashful smile, clearly embarrassed by your ramblings.

The conversation had indeed taken a turn into the realms of introspection and philosophy and Mycroft found that delightful. As you spoke about the abstract nature of home and the peculiar familiarity one can feel with places and people, Mycroft found himself drawn to the depth of your thoughts, drawn to you.

For a moment, the awkwardness seemed to dissipate, and Mycroft discovered that he did indeed understand point of view.

"You feel like home," he said softly, the words escaping him before he could stop them.

"What?"

"I said, Yule feels like home. The time of the year. There is something about it that just feels…" Mycroft trailed off, the weight of his words hanging in the air. In that vulnerable admission, he revealed a layer of himself that rarely saw the light of day.

"It does. There is something so cozy about the festivities. You can't help but feel something magical could happen."

Your response held a warmth that echoed Mycroft's sentiment and he couldn’t help but think what his brother would say if he heard this conversation. There would be severe mocking, but Mycroft found he didn’t much care.

The moment between the two of you was abruptly shattered by an announcement over the lounge’s speaker, signaling the boarding call for passengers.

"Well… that's me." You rose from your seat, casting a bittersweet smile in Mycroft's direction. "It was lovely to meet you, Mycroft."

“You too.”

As you walked away, Mycroft's gaze lingered, and he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret. The encounter had been brief but had carried a weight of unexpected connection and shared sentiments. The lounge, once a stage for silent glances and meaningful conversation, now felt a bit emptier as you moved toward your departure gate.

The first-class lounge, adorned with holiday decorations and a twinkle of lights, returned to its bustling atmosphere as other passengers prepared for their journeys. Mycroft, still lost in thought, found himself contemplating the significance of the brief encounter and the unanswered questions that lingered in the air.

"What am I doing?" Mycroft muttered to himself, a sudden realisation propelling him to his feet. The urgency of his thoughts overrode any hesitation as he hurriedly headed after you. The encounter had left an impression, and he couldn't bear the idea of letting you simply walk out of his life.

The bustling atmosphere of the airport became a blur as Mycroft navigated through the crowd, his determined strides reflecting a sense of urgency that contrasted with his usual measured pace.

Mycroft reached your departure gate just in time to catch a glimpse of you preparing to board. With a breathless yet determined expression, he approached, the echoes of uncertainty and vulnerability replaced by a sense of purpose.

"Wait!”

#Mycroft Holmes #Mycroft Holmes x reader #Mycroft x reader #gndw fic #build a festive fic

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lollipencil · 1 year ago

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Locked Heart

Who fancies some emotional whump? :) This is my first time writing stuff like this, hope I do ok. Enjoy and be gentle

---

Jake Lockley was heartless. Had known this for a long time. There was a time, in the beginning, when he wasn't. When warmth had filled his chest when he watched Steven go about his day, when Marc managed a decent day all by himself. Over time, it faded away.

Now, there was only the emptiness. And the rage that comes when someone tries to hurt them.

What this meant hadn't been entirely clear to Jake until the body managed to die. Trapped in a tight, dark space. Calling out endlessly for the two people who never came for him. Stuck until life was returned to the body.

The heart was a piece of the soul after all. Steven and Marc had began to enter the afterlife because they had theirs. That tight darkness was all that awaiting Jake when the time would come.

So, when Khonshu made his offer, he jumped for it. "They'll be safe," he thought to himself, "They won't suffer anymore if I do this." "And maybe," a tiny part of him dared to hope, "Just maybe, I can get my heart back."

---

Numbly, Jake knelt in headspace. They had done it. In truth, Jake wasn't sure why he was so surprised. While Steven and Marc had butted heads when Steven had found out, the things Marc had done weren't as bad as what Jake had.

Marc had never fronted just to kill then leave them still at the scene, fresh blood still warm on their hands. Had never left them in the middle of a complicated driving manoeuvre. Had never betrayed them by staying with Khonshu after they had both said no more.

Every time Jake came up towards the front, something would happen. Words would fly like blades, or someone would come at them with an actual blade, and things would just escalate. Not that it was all bad, though. "Thanks for the Alps," Steven had said when he figured it out, "Sorry, I got us in a bit of a pickle." Jake didn't say anything, but the emptyness seemed to lift just a bit. Hell, Marc had even smiled at him once!

But now it would never leave. Because they had managed to severe Khonshu from them all.

Jake blinked as he thought long and hard. Without Khonshu, they wouldn't be in those sorts of situtions (the only other reason Jake came out). Marc and Steven could take care of themselves and had shown this to be fact multiple times. Jake Lockley was no longer needed.

So, he did the only thing that made sense. He curled up in the small "room" that was his, and waited.

---

Marc was really starting to get ticked off with Jake.

It had been nearly three weeks and he was still pouting about Khonshu. Ignoring all their attempts to communicate with him. Even fiddling with his car did nothing to stir him.

"This is getting ridiculous!" he hissed one morning with no sign of Jake. "Maybe he's stuck," Steven worried past his own frustration, "Our head is probably a bit..." "Haunted?" "Endless," the more Steven mulled it over, the more anxious he got, "Maybe he can't find his way out." "Calm down," Marc sighed, "Look, I'll find him, ok? You hold up the fort."

While still unnerving to look at, headspace was starting to look better. White walls tinting slowly to real colour. Not that Marc was there to admire the place. No, he strode forward like a train, unstoppable towards his destination.

Did he know where? No. But onward his feet carried him. Around corners and down identical hallways until he reached a door.

A single door, the window painted over in black, handle rusty and disused. But, as Marc discovered, still usable. If smell existed in headspace, Marc would say it likely stank of decay. The walls were just as dark as the window. Water dripped in the one free corner of the room. The rest that was unocupied by the door was filled by a familar sarcophagus, although the lid was missing. Jake was sitting inside, staring at the wall.

"What are you doing?" the planned aggression had fled Marc's voice at the conditions Jake was "living" in. "I am where I belong," Jake's answer was almost unaudible. "Did Khonshu tell you that?" Marc asked firmly, righteous fury finding its way back home. Jake laughed bitterly. "Not everything is about him." "Then what is this about, Jake!"

"Me. It's-it's always been me. When I first, appeared, I could feel. Happiness when Steven was reading his books over and over, relief when she didn't bother either of you. I could care. Then, one day, I notice that I couldn't. Steven would read, I'd feel nothing. You'd be okay, I'd feel nothing. When Dad managed to finally set aside time for you, I couldn't feel anything! The only time I could feel anything but hollowness, was when the other kids or she would pick on you both. For years, I only had anger and no answers as to why. I still did what I could for you both, only took the time I was needed, but nothing changed. When the body died, I finally found my answer."

Dread brushed up and down Marc's spine. "I was stuck. All around me was unyeilding darkness, but I could hear somewhat. You both. I called out, pushed against it. But you never heard me. Only once the body breathed again was I free. And from there, I pieced it together. Somehow, I lost my heart all those years ago. That is all that awaits me after. In truth, part of me made that deal with the bird because, well, if anyone could find my heart, it would be him. He seemed to like me enough after all."

Jake somehow grew even more solemn: "Doesn't matter. He's gone. You and Steven will never be in harm's way now. My purpose has been fulfilled. This is my world now until the body dies or my soul realises and fades away. I won't interfere with your lives anymore. Just go and be happy." And Jake, legs still curled into his chest, lay down and said no more.

Marc stood there. Screaming so deep inside that headspace couldn't show it. That couldn't be true. He had seen the sarcophagus, the same one he was currently looking at, Steven had too. They had both heard him. And they both walked away.

Numbly, Marc left headspace. Steven was watching a documentory, idly noting the inaccuracies before he noticed Marc. "Heya mate, you find him?" "Can I have the body?" "What's wrong?" "I have no idea," Marc swallowed a sob, "I don't even know if we can fix this." "Marc, you're starting to scare me," Steven whispered, hand absently cluching his heart. "I know. I know somethign that might help, but I need the body, just for a minute. After that, I'll tell you."

Steven handed it over, watching anxiously as Marc dialed Layla's number. "Hi baby," he said, the aura of sadness still in his voice, "I need to ask a favour. Of Taweret."

---

Jake blinked to find himself in front, tucked up with a blanket over the legs. Sitting on a nearby chair, was a bipedal hippo who jumped up at his gaze. "Oh! Hi, you must be Jake!" the hippo chirped. "Si, I am." "I'm Taweret, I've been asked to talk to you for a bit." "Ok."

Taweret seemed off-footed by his anwsers. "Well, you see," she carried on, "I've been told some...stuff that is a bit concerning." "Shouldn't you be talking to Layla about this?" or Marc and Steven Jake added mentally. "...It's about you," she admitted softly, features sculpted into a gentle frown, "I've been told that...you believe that you lack a heart. I wanted to ask, why?"

Jake sighed deeply. "I haven't felt anything but rage since the body was still in single digits," he explained, pointing at his chest "And when the body died, I wasn't with them." Taweret frowned harder, troubled. "I've never heard of this happening, may I feel? See if anything can be done?" "Sure," Jake whispered.

It was strange. Seeing her hand vanish into his chest with nothing but a golden shimmer. "At least, no one else will know what this is like," he mused when an odd feeling came over him. "Oh!" Taweret soft exchlaimed before withdrawing her hand.

Something was inside her hand. Jake could see it but couldn't believe it. Couldn't dare hope. In Taweret's hand, glowing bright gold, was a heart.

"What?" Jake stared blankly. "I knew it," Marc's voice suddenly appeared, steady as a rock, "I knew it was still there."9 "But," Jake couldn't understand, "I was alone when we died. Nothing but darkness and entrapment." "Yeah, so was Steven until I let him out," Marc admitted gently, "We heard you, it's just, the moment we stopped looking at where you were stuck, we forgot." "It was my fault," Taweret's voice dragged Jake back into the outside world, "I knew that I was dealing with more than one soul. Why didn't I check if there was more than two?!"

It didn't make sense. "But I can't feel anything!" Jake asked desperately, "How else can that happen?!" "Well," Steven piped up soothingly, "It's usually not recomended to google symptoms, but I did. Jake, feeling hollow or empty is a common sign of depression."

Oh.

Jake stared again at his heart. Glowing gold crystal but real. Shaking hands took it from Taweret, who smiled apologetically, before pressing it back into his chest. Nothing still. But it was there. "We're so sorry," Marc breathed into their head.

"What do I do now?" Jake asked back. "We live," Steven said firmly, "together. You don't have to hide anymore, and we'll find a way to help. You'll be ok." "You'll be ok," parroted Marc.

Looking at Taweret's slight smile and at the flat with visible gaps in the shelves, Jake found himself beliveing it. "We'll be ok."

#my fics #moon knight (2022)#jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #taweret

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of-light-and-shadow · 7 months ago

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𝓐 𝓕𝓮𝓵-𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 World of Warcraft OCxOC Action/Adventure/Romance/Hurt/Comfort Short Story

"See the stars? I made a wish on one, and I got you." -Unknown

The evening is peaceful and serene. Lately, Vela has found herself enjoying these quiet moments more and more. As she tidies up the kitchen, humming contently, she sets aside a bowl of dinner for her husband Keth'ys when he returns from his night out with Enkeadu. The thought brings a smile to her face; her friend truly is blessed. Despite the unexpected turn of events and the suddenness of finding his daughter, Enk now has a precious little girl in his life who is already so loved and cherished by all around her.

A part of Vela can't help but feel envious.

Her shoulders slump and her hands grip the fabric of her dress tightly as she shakes her head. They've talked about it before, or at least they've mentioned it in passing. But the one time she brought it up to Keth'ys, it was clear that he didn't want to discuss it further. The front door slides open, breaking Vela out of her reverie. A smile spreads across her face as she watches her husband enter, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on a nearby chair. He immediately wraps his arms around her, kneeling down so they can embrace comfortably. She buries her face in his neck and he hums softly, making her feel safe and loved.

"Did you have a good evening?" She asks as she pulls away, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek before scurrying back to the bowl she had set aside for him. He watches her closely as she turns to present it to him, curiosity evident in his eyes as the light from the hearth catches the jewelry on his horns. "Keth'ys?"

He blinks and nods, standing to his full height before crossing the space between them. Vela squeaks in surprise as he picks her up again, quickly discarding the bowl onto a nearby table before carrying her to his chair nearby. The warmth of the fire fills her as she settles into her husband's embrace, running her hands through strands of his loose hair.

"Is everything alright?"

It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking, "Do you still want children?"

Out of all the things he could have brought up, this certainly catches Vela off-guard. She stumbles over her words for a moment, struggling to come up with an answer while he looks at her with such seriousness that it makes her anxious. So she does what she does best and dodges the question.

“So Enkeadu told you then?” She tries to play off her nervousness with a smile as he nods. “Isn’t it exciting? We’ll have to host a party to celebrate. Once the contractors are done with the addition on the house of course. I don’t want to risk the little one getting hurt with all that work getting done. Oh, I never asked Enk her name, you didn’t happen to ask did you?”

She knows she's rambling now, and so does he. Keth’ys pulls her closer, tightening his embrace. “You didn't answer my question,” he reminds her.

Vela glances away, feeling uneasy. "Neither did you," she counters.

He hums sardonically, “I think my question is a bit more important, aye?”

She tries to stand up from his lap, but he tightens his grip as if he won't let her go. Eventually, he loosens his hold and allows her to flee back into the kitchen. Vela busies herself with cleaning the already spotless counter in an attempt to distract herself. She freezes when she feels Keth'ys standing behind her, his shadow looming over her. His hands reach around her, fingers entwining with hers, keeping them still. He rests his head on her shoulder, and she can't help but lean into the familiar warmth of his embrace.

"Vela, do you still want children?" he asks.

She knows she can't escape now. He won't let her until she gives him an honest answer. She hesitates before responding, "We've already discussed this, haven't we? It's a complicated decision, considering all the potential risks—"

"Me avoiding the topic does not make it a discussion," Keth'ys interrupts calmly. "Please, just answer my question. Take away all the external factors and risks: Do you still want to have children with me?"

It pains her to admit: "I don't know..."

"Why?" A simple question, and he doesn't sound angry or disappointed. But for some reason, even saying something as simple as "I don't know" brings her to the brink of tears. He leads her to sit on his lap as they move to the floor, holding her close as she tries to stop crying.

"It's for the best, right?" She’s not sure if she’s trying to convince herself just as much as him. "I mean, what do I really know about being a mother? My own was killed when I was born, and the woman who raised me tried to force me into marriage with a monster. I have no idea how to be a good mother, and who knows if I would end up harming my own child because of that?"

She's trying not to sob, but tears still fall down her face. Keth'ys holds her tighter and wipes away her tears with his thumb. "If you think for one moment that you wouldn't be a good mother, you are much more foolish than I ever thought." He kisses away each tear and speaks softly, "You, my beautiful wife, who is kinder and more caring than this world deserves? You who selflessly puts yourself in harm's way to protect others. The same woman who would give everything she has to a friend in need without a second thought."

He takes her by the chin, tilts her head up, the fel fire in his eyes blazing brightly, “That you still think so little of yourself after all this time? It pains me, my love.”

Vela manages a small smile through her tears and buries her face in his chest as he runs his fingers through her hair. She fiddles with the fabric of his shirt as they share a comforting silence until she finally asks the burning question in her mind: "Why are we suddenly talking about children now?" She adds softly, "You never seemed too interested before."

“That’s true,” He admits, “But that was all before you.”

She looks up at him, seeing his gaze fixed on the distant wall as he deep in thought. "Before you, I didn't care about anything really. Every night was filled with drinking until I could forget and pass out. Injecting myself with who knows what just to chase any kind of buzz. I didn't care if I lived, let alone about having kids. You changed all of that."

He turns to look back at her, a soft smile on his face as he tilts her head up to meet his gaze again. There's a mischievous glint in his eye that makes her blush. "Remember when you screamed my name so pretty for me for the first time?" He whispers, his voice dripping in absolute sin. In an instant, Vela finds herself on her back, Keth'ys looming over her with his black hair cascading around them like a curtain. She nods, feeling breathless as one hand trails down her waist and rests on her hips, gripping the fabric of her dress.

"That night, you fell asleep in my arms. And when I woke up with you still sleeping next to me, it was the first time I felt like my life was truly worth living, and getting to marry you was more than I could ever ask for." He pauses, his expression becoming more serious. "How could I possibly ask for children when I've done so many terrible things? I've taken innocent lives and enjoyed causing pain. How could a monster like me deserve the blessing of children?"

Vela lets out a soft chuckle, "Look at us now, both full of insecurities." She reaches for his hand and entwines her fingers with his, pulling him closer as she shifts her legs to wrap around his waist. Her other hand traces patterns on his shirt, teasingly moving towards the hem tucked into his trousers. "Well luckily, we'll be raising this child together."

Keth'ys lets out a low growl as he tugs up the hem of her dress, a desperate look in his eyes. "Say it then, tell me what you want."

She laughs nervously but with pure joy as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, burns herself on the fel fire she tastes on his kiss. "I want a baby, Keth'ys. With you and only you."

He nicks her lip with one of his fangs as he chuckles, "Anything for you, my love. Always."

#my writing #wow rp #world of warcraft rp #blood elf #wow oc #world of warcraft #he's a demon hunter so it technically counts?#monster boyfriend #slightly spicy #ya'll ever had something happen in RP that you have to write about INSTANTLY #Yeah its this

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my313 · 11 months ago

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beautiful stranger ⟡₊ 🚎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ choi beomgyu

now playing 𝄞₊ ⊹ beautiful stranger - laufey

⋆ pairing: beomgyu x gn!reader

⋆ summary: what better way to romanticise the commute to class than listening to laufey and re-living that elevator scene from 500 days of summer?

⋆ genre/themes/warnings: slice of life, university au, fluff, love at first sight, strangers to ???, crack-ish lol, also kind of loser simp manic pixie dream boy gyu, lots of laufey mentions and references, 500 days of summer reference (the i love the smiths scene if anyone hasnt watched but has seen it on tiktok)

⋆ word count: 1591

a/n: if ur looking for realism this isnt it ... this is me trying to imagine my own romcom. also my bad i think i got too carried away yapping and with too little dialogue. this is definitely self-indulgent but!!!! here’s my first post :) i’m thinking of making this a laufey songfic series for all of txt but depends on my inspo LOL. this was inspired by a girl on the bus who was tryna show me her taehyung lockscreen cuz she probably saw my soobin one HAHAHA. hope u guys enjoy :3

act i. looked back for a second didn’t want to be rude i tend to fall in love on the tube

falling in love is simple for choi beomgyu. his eyes sparkle on default, glossy and rose-tinted - at least, on days where he can bring himself out of the university dorms. on most days, he finds that the world has a dull enough filter to put his pink-coloured frames to rest. he definitely thinks so every time he has to begrudgingly work on his assignments.

the universe decides today is not one of those days.

it really should be, though. the bus is overcrowded on a monday morning and he’s running on four hours of sleep after regretfully queueing on league with soobin and kai. he taps his foot impatiently, unable to hide his discomfort from all the squeezing and lack of personal space. his final saving grace is the tune of paramore’s the only exception from his headphones, only slightly distracting him from the screech of the tires and the chatter of freshmen. the public transport announcement for the next stop comes as a breath of fresh air for beomgyu as people rush out the doors. he breathes a sigh of relief and absentmindedly takes the closest unoccupied seat.

it’s not everyday that beomgyu gets to see the outside world (willingly), so he decides to challenge himself on the remaining half hour he has on the bus. he blinks, once, twice, more. anything to keep him awake.

the announcer’s voice fills the bus again to call for the next stop, but that’s not what wakes beomgyu up. no. the doors open and he catches a glimpse of someone’s cute plushie strapped on their bag. like a cat follows a laser beam, beomgyu’s gaze is fixed on the plushie until it stops moving. it’s right next to him. he raises his head, trying to be discreet and potentially avoid looking into this stranger’s face. unlucky as he is, beomgyu is met with your eyes almost immediately. his brain freezes in the way it did when he tried yeonjun’s mint chocolate ice cream out of summer heat desperation. it short circuits, and all he can think is so pretty; like it’s the only word in the dictionary, and right next to it is your name (even if he doesn’t know it yet). he swears he almost says it out loud.

taken aback, beomgyu can only hold your stare for a second before quickly turning away. his cheeks flush as he attempts to appear nonchalant (he is anything but), fishing into the pockets of his leather jacket to find his phone. he aimlessly unlocks it, showcasing his ‘romanticizing & touching grass’ playlist at full brightness. he cringes, thinking how ironic it is to have laufey’s beautiful stranger playing as he quite literally tries to avoid looking at a beautiful stranger in real-time. half of him entertains the thought of you seeing it and sparking up a conversation, a meet-cute that rivaled the quirkiness of the elevator scene in 500 days of summer. the other half of him continues to sink into himself, cringing at the thought.

still, he lifts his head and quickly glances at you, his phone screen lit up in anticipation.

act ii. beautiful stranger catching my stare it’s fate we collided right then back there i wonder if he felt the same thing too innocent crush on the morning commute

the boy next to you has looked up thrice in the ten minutes you’ve boarded the bus. if he wasn’t the prettiest you’d ever seen in your time riding this specific commute, it definitely would have been weird. it’s even more adorable that he’s tilting his phone screen towards you, a laufey song proudly on display as his attempts of appearing casual throw him under the bus.

you laugh to yourself, lips tugging into an amused smile. lightly nudging him with your elbow, beomgyu’s shoulders jerk as he looks back at you. he has his headphones on, so when you gently say, “i love laufey!” he doesn’t entirely understand. his eyebrows slightly raise in confusion. in the midst of taking his headphones off to hear you better, he stills when you move closer. your lips are too close to his already warm ears, and it certainly doesn’t help that you’re practically whispering “i love laufey” with the most unassuming, goofy yet endearing smile. your excitement must be contagious to beomgyu, because his embarrassment is quick to dissipate. you haven’t moved away. he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose - if this was how strangers on buses flirted. if that ever happened at all.

“oh, um,” he starts off awkwardly, “me too!” beomgyu’s stumbling over words he hasn’t even had a chance to get out yet, they’re all rushing to leave his mind but the damned announcer beats him to it. your gaze flickers from him to the blinking sign ahead. by now, you were back to leaning on your seat and away from beomgyu’s face. you really wished time slowed down, but the next stop was yours. you pursed your lips and contemplate your next words. what are the chances you’ll see this guy again?

“by the way,” you turn to beomgyu, expression determined like braving getting on a rollercoaster. “you’re really pretty.”

the announcer cuts through the silence and you’re quick to be up on your feet, ignoring the rising pink on both yours and beomgyu’s cheeks. “it was nice meeting you!” you manage to squeak out. just like that, beomgyu’s lost you.

act iii. but my beautiful stranger will have to remain a stranger until i see them again

beomgyu’s gone delusional over the past week. he’s sure that laufey will be his top artist on spotify this month, all because of you.

it’s monday again, his classes are canceled and yet he’s seated in the bus hoping to catch a glimpse of you. no, he wants more than a glimpse. this time, he’s certain he can do much better than a bunch of ums and awkward smiles. his posture straightens sharply as the bus makes a gradual stop. it’s yours.

this time, beomgyu’s quick to crane his neck over and look outside the window to make sure you’re there. the universe is kind, because there you are. the corners of his mouth rise on their own accord when you meet eyes, tapping the seat next to him that he totally did not reserve for you the whole ride.

you’re pleasantly surprised by the pretty boy’s re-appearance, smirking while making yourself comfortable next to him.

“i should’ve known you were one of the crazy ones. nobody listens to laufey normally…” you sigh, tone satirical and disapproving, but your expression is anything but. it’s obvious you’re glad he found you again. he wasn’t the only one squealing over the past week.

beomgyu’s voice comes out more confident than last monday, playful yet baritone. “nah, you got it wrong. i’m only crazy over you.” you’re both looking at each other in silence before bursting into fits of laughter. beomgyu tries to keep his giggles polite by covering his mouth with his palm, but you’re flailing and find yourself leaning into his shoulder to muffle your laughs.

that only makes beomgyu grin wider, lifting his hand from his face and training his eyes on you. he doesn’t wait for you to stop laughing, sneakily capturing your hand together with his. the sudden warmth melting your frigid hands makes you jerk away from the comfort of beomgyu’s sweater. you’re instantly faced with his wide eyes. before uttering a word, beomgyu cuts you off with a silly expression, eyebrows wriggling mischievously, “so that scored me a date, right?”

“you’re such a freak,” you taunt. “i don’t even know your name!” beomgyu rolls his eyes, brows still raised comically. “you laughed into my sweater, i think we’re so past that.”

“but since you asked… how about i give you a good deal?”

“i’m listening.” you play along with his banter, nudging him to go on. beomgyu nods smugly as he lays out his cards, confident you won’t say no. you couldn’t, right?

“i propose that you get my name right now.. but only if you take my number too,” he says cheerfully. “great deal, huh? can’t get it anywhere else. a bus 11 exclusive!”

you pretend to give it a thought, complete with a pondering stance and looking up at the bus ceiling in contemplation. when you look back at beomgyu, you can’t help but smile at his overly-excited puppy-eyed look. it makes you want to tease him even more, but you decide against it. your stop is threatening to cut this short again.

you bring out your phone, unlock it and hand it over to beomgyu. “gimme it then, stranger.”

“it’s beomgyu,” he says as he types up his number. he locks your phone before returning it into your hands. “i’m saved as love of your life though, so…”

“weirdo!” you shriek while opening your phone to double check. it’s just beomgyu with a heart. “i thought you actually did that.”

beomgyu laughs. the announcer’s familiar voice fills the bus again and it’s your stop next. swiftly, you open up a new chat with beomgyu, sending him a message before standing up and waving bye. he returns the gesture fondly, watching you get off and walk away.

once the bus starts up again, beomgyu sees the notification from you:

wanna hang tonight? :)

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wrongtvrns · 10 days ago

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The words reverberated through him. That was always the fear, wasn't it? People seeing the parts of yourself that had been strategically hidden way, or the bad things you'd done before you'd grown and learned better — forever holding that image of you, of that one point in time of your entire life. From his experiences people judged you at your worst and held you there. They didn't care to do any of the exploration or question why or how you'd gotten to such lows in your life. The circumstances never mattered.

"Try me," Bear challenged. Something he'd come to learn about himself was just how much he could withstand. The world had tried and tried again many times over to break him and had failed at doing so every time. No matter how low he'd gotten. He also had never been shy of carrying the burdens of others. Life never let anyone make it this far without damage, baggage, and scars. Somehow all of this was a blessing, to get to battle through existence. "Some of... many of the things I've done could change your mind, too." They were strangers, he was reminded, but he liked that he was a clean slate with the woman in front of him.

Quickly he disagreed when she expressed shame for a moment of vulnerability by shaking his head. "I'm not sure any of us know who we really are. I think we spend our whole lives figuring it out." Oddly, he wanted to touch her. A weighted hand of reassurance to give her arm a gentle squeeze or stroke his fingers across her perfect cheekbones. Bear felt a comfort with her, something that happened fast, that had been rare for him. Connecting with people wasn't an easy task. "More people need the quiet," Bear smiled a little, it wasn't his business that he liked that she seemed to be enjoying his hometown, "humans need some solitude. All that noise and non-stop lifestyle... we weren't built for that."

As much as Bear wanted to say yes, this could be their spot, he ended up shaking his head. Another rasped sound crawled up his throat in the form of good natured humor. "I'd rather us find and have a spot outside of here." His blue eyes panned around the space filled with formal attire, then landed back on her. "I'm hoping I don't ever have to come back here." Though, he would for another chance at seeing her if it came down to it. Even if he wasn't wearing the trusty jean jacket at the moment, his chin tucked a little as he looked down at his arms and attempted a gander at his shoulders. "I'll tell the politicians you said so. I'm pretty sure I'll get a pass if I do..."

Maybe she could feel it or sense it, too. That Bear's need for some quick assistance had slowed to being greedy with her time. She'd been in this store shopping and browsing around as well, but he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for stealing her away. Especially if she'd been headed to the men's section with a purpose. Despite them seemingly being from different worlds he wanted to elongate as much time with her as possible. Connections like this were rare, he knew that much, even if he wasn't quite sure what was going on. "Maybe that's why you need it so much," Bear countered, "it's just my opinion but I think everyone needs to know how to be on their own. New York is just a visit away if the missing gets to be too much, yeah?"

The conversation turning to him brought an alertness to Bear that hadn't been there before. Not a tension or anxiety but something that could likely be misconstrued as such. Bringing up family always closed off his demeanor a bit. Not purposefully, or even consciously, but it was a topic he wasn't all that open to. "Uhh, it's just me." There was a distance that swathed his words. "I've got a couple of siblings, but... yeah." After a few beats of his avoidant eye contact it began to dissipate and whatever had come over him, the veil slowly fell away. "What about you? Is your family," or boyfriend, husband, "following you out here?"

An answer drifted from his head and settled on his tongue, ready to respond, but the words never came out. The atmosphere was taught with something inexplicable. He hovered there, close, study and immovable as a statue and silently gave her permission. It was up to her what she wanted to do and Bear wanted her to have that control. That choice. The man stayed put as she rose up on the balls of her feet, her mouth brought irresistibly closer to his, but his large hands shifted to rest at the curve of this woman's waist. When her nose brushed his and her lips pressed against his, Bear answered the call. His lips parted and he moved in, kissing her back and deepening it just a little more so that it was clear he wanted this.

As though it would hold her there, her soft and lithe figure against his, the sweet taste of her mouth, one of Bear's hands moved up and rested partly on her throat and partly held her jaw. If this kiss never ended it would be too soon. When her tongue smoothed across his bottom lip, his jaw opened more as he slipped his tongue to meet her own. Then a knock came that he had to refrain from punching through the door to shove the interruption away. He was licking his lips, savoring the heat of her that still lingered there, while she informed the attendant that they were busy. Not caring how it came across, the man cleared his throat.

"Of course," he said of the promise, "I always keep those." Which, was one of the truest things about Bear. If he gave his word on anything then it was rock solid and the most dependable. They were still close, and even though his hands had fallen away from her when reality came crashing down on them, Bear wanted to pull her close and continue what had been started. "I think I definitely need to see you again so..." For a moment he bit his lip and tried to reel it all back in. They needed to finish the task at hand. The anticipation just might be the death of him, though.

"Yeah," he nodded, his thumb and index finger pinched the fabric of her top right at her stomach lightly, "that'd be helpful." Bear could also walk out there and get the next size up but she was the woman with the sense and vision. It didn't matter to him that his top half was bare. When she made no move to leave though Bear didn't waste the moment and slid that hand around to the small of her back to push her against him. In a blink he'd dipped his head and stolen those full lips with another kiss. This time he was the one that had a deep sound moving up his throat.

There were experiences and people forged into her memory, some of which she wouldn't forget and others she'd do anything to never think about again. If she could take it all back, if she could make her own way, would she? It wasn't a question she'd ever put much thought into and yet, as she stood before a stranger, it was a question she was desperate to answer. "Maybe that would change if you saw some of things I did," she countered, firm but tone gentle. Suddenly, she was thankful that the man before her couldn't see through her. If he could, she doubted he'd want to stick around.

Part of the problem was not knowing who she was or what she wanted. After so many years of those decisions being made for her, it was overwhelming to have that control back in her hands. "And what if I don't know who I am?" It was too deep of a question for someone who'd asked for help finding a suit jacket. Heat rushed to her cheeks and an apology danced awkwardly off her tongue. "I'm sorry. That's so embarrassing," she exhaled beneath a nervous laugh. For someone who'd built a career on confidence, she found herself more flustered than not in his company.

"So far I'm liking the quiet." The dark haired woman was thankful for the few beats of silence that passed between them. It was new for her — being an open book and asking the big questions aloud. In another world, one where they weren't picking out formal attire in the wild, perhaps she could've opened up even more. Was it crazy that a part of her wanted to? "Is this our spot now?"

As his raspy laugh filled the air, she decided then and there that she liked the sound of it. It was comforting, warm, and inviting. Then again, that seemed to him. A breath caught in her throat as his skin brushed against hers, but it was his words that left her needing a moment to find her balance again. "I'm sure your trusty jean jacket isn't all that bad," she hummed lowly, still hanging on his words. How long could they linger in one's space before inevitably partings ways? A wave of dread washed over her, but the crooked grin that met her gaze made it seem trivial by comparison.

The move to Woodside had been the very thing she'd needed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had more than two days off in a row without someone knocking at her door or blowing up her phone. Then again, even that had taken a little time for her to adjust to. The lack of sirens outside her place, the decrease in notifications, the lone nights out to bars and the club she'd come to enjoy? It was all new, but there was a sense of loneliness attached to the move that she hadn't quite figured out. "It isn't for everyone. Despite everything, I kind of miss it." She flashed a small smile at the confession and her gaze captured his again. "I'm not used to being on my own."

She wondered about his life, about the people in it. Did he have siblings? Was he close to his parents? Conversation in a genuine sense was a mystery to her. Most people only cared about the figures she made a year or the places she'd been. It was that rare she ever got a chance to ask anything in return, or that she even cared to do such a thing. "Is it just you? Or do you have family here?" Yet again, she was surprised by the sound of her own voice. More than that, she was surprised with how much she cared to know the answer.

Scar for scar, she created short stories in her head on how he'd gotten them. There was an ache within every story and a desire to trace every single one of them while he told her the real cause. Beyond the imperfections, though she'd hardly label them such, were chorded muscles and a torso that stretched on for days. He may not have fit the modeling bill to a tee, but he was far more attractive than any spray tanned set of abs she'd ever laid eyes on. He was real — every part of him. From the deep blue in his gaze, to every scar etched into his skin.

Her heartbeat was thrumming out of rhythm, wild and strong. There was an element of guilt weaved into her thoughts, but it was outweighed by selfish desires. Slowly and without fear, the model stretched upwards, the distance between them narrowing by the second. "So, what's your idea then?" The words were nothing more than a whisper. She was close enough to feel the heat of his breath on her cherry coated lips. Eyes fluttered closed as nose brushed his and if she hadn't of known any better, she would've sworn the sound of her heart pounding against her chest would've given her away.

A quiet hum of muffled approval rumbled in her throat as her lips met his. She hovered close, her fingers curling into the material of the shirt that clung to his skin as her tongue teasingly trailed over his bottom lip. It was a knock at the door that had her pulling back, a grin on her mouth as she looked over the faint smudge of lipstick left in her wake. "We're still trying things on," she called out, her gaze never averting from the man before her.

She was surprised to see the phone offered to her, but she accepted without a thought and typed in her name and number before handing it back. "Is that a promise?" There was time to consider what she was getting into, but that time wasn't now. For all she knew, he was far smoother than he'd given himself credit for and the exchange was one of many. Even if she hoped that weren't true. "I think you're right."

In her defense, she'd temporarily forgotten the task at hand while the taste of him on her tongue still lingered. "I should probably go for the next size up, maybe two." To be safe, probably two. "I'll go grab another." And yet, she made no effort in tearing away from his hold. Instead, she stayed put, feet cemented to the patterned carpet beneath.

#threads — bear ludlow.#01 — bear & aksel sahin.

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