#i do believe we have known each other since forever

[pyro-les]

To save a life - Rio Vidal X goddess of life reader

880 words - warnings: none

Based of this request

taglist: @thecavalrywife @hannah-0730 @believe-in-magic13 @jenniferjareauwife @wandasreallover @thesharkwhalewhoohooooo @acutenobody

Yin and yang, light and dark, life and death; they had many names but all of them lead to the same two people. Since the dawn of time they have had the two most important jobs, they brought life and death, maintaining the circle of life. They brought the beginning and end respectively, so similar yet so different, but as people have always said, opposites attract.

They understood each others jobs, respected their decisions and knew that the other would always be right in when they said it was someone's time. However there was one time they disagreed, both stood at the edge of a lake, watching from afar the cries of pain both emotional and physical of the witch known so famously as the witch killer. And that is why they recognised her, Rio and Y/N had been there everytime she took life, being drawn there as a part of their jobs.

But for once she was pleading for a life to be saved instead of taking one. The witch called out to anyone listening not to take him, that he hadn't even got a chance to live yet, it couldn't be his time already. And so they stood there, life and death both of their powers subconsciously fighting for control of the child. They had no choice in the matter, not usually anyway, the fates were not chosen by them, it was just nature. They could lend a hand in the process of their respective powers but ultimately it was not their choice and yet as she stood there watching the grieving mother Rio felt guilt.

"Please, don't take him. Please!" She continues to scream. Rio and Y/N started to walk closer, they wanted to help, they really did.

Looking up with tears still streaming down her face Agatha watched the duo walk closer. She hadn't seen them before but as they grew closer they became more clear and she started to realise who they were, she had heard legends of them. She didn't say much more, her eyes pleading enough, she just whispered a final weak "please".

With a breath Y/N finally spoke up "All I can offer is time.". Agatha looked at her with a small smile relief written all over her face while Rio looked at her with confusion and worry.

"Sweetheart, you know you're not allowed to. We can't break the rules." Rio spoke in a hushed tone, she seemed almost upset to say so.

At this Agatha started to worry again, she wasn't supposed to hear that but she did. "No, no, please! I'm begging please, let him live."

"She's been through enough." Y/N said to Rio, her voice was filled with pity. "It's the least we can do, the only thing we can do."

Rio sighed, she didn't want to break the rules, she didn't know what would happen if they did. But if her lover was going to break the rules than so would she, she would try and hold off her power for along as she could. She had to admit she didn't want to have to take the child, she was saving everyone pain this way, or atleast holding it off for awhile.

"Fine, I'll try to delay it as long as I can, but it won't be forever." She may have seemed disgruntled but she was glad she was helping, just apprehensive.

Y/N looked at her with a smile, she knew Rio would do it for her, just this once. "Thank you." She spoke quietly, mirroring Agathas much more loud, repetitive one.

They stayed there awhile longer, waiting for the child to be born, they had helped a bit already but they couldn't do much until they were here. They didn't have to wait long though, soon enough they watched as the witch held her child close, she was so so glad he was there, she couldn't let him go.

Y/N walked the few steps closer to the witch, an unspoken question in her eye as she slowly puts her hand out as Agatha nods gently. She slowly brings her hand to the baby's chest, closing her eyes as her hand begins to glow, a subtle pink hue bleeding into the child, the very essence of life seeping into his soul. She could feel his heart beat grow more and more steady, a stark contrast from the dull, slow pulse it had been mere moments ago. The small amount of her power left inside of him would protect him for a few years atleast, she could only do this once, she had already bent the rules enough. So she gave him as much as he could handle, as much time as she could.

She pulled her hand away after a few minutes knowing any more power would be too much for his tiny body. Y/N opened her eyes slowly and looked up to the witch, she looked much more calm now, relieved. "Thank you." She spoke gratefully, no amount of words could truly convey how grateful she was but they understood anyway.

Their job here was done, they had saved a life, one that was never supposed to exist in the first place. They had broken the rules but it was worth it.

[elisaenglish]

Why did you sleep with me that night?

[bloodbathfortwo]

Nigel and Alex have their rare moments of intimacy behind closed doors. Lingering touches, and blazing warmth.

[sincerelyneo]

sunflower vol 6 | l.hc

“i couldn’t want you anymore, kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor”

💿now playing: sunflower vol 6 by harry styles

❯ summary: Let’s make dinner together, he said. I’ll behave, he said. Honestly, you should have known that was a lie because when it comes to you, Haechan is never on his best behaviour. That’s why he’s sneaking sly touches every time you complete a step in your recipe.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive content

❯ words: 1.4k

❯ tags: tooth rotting fluff, domesticated fluff, swearing, kissing, pet names, literally just hyuck being so boyfriend and them dancing in the kitchen together.

an: i’m a firm believer that harry styles wrote this song about haechan

Hyuck bursts through the front door with a sense of urgency, unable to contain his excitement. It's been months since he last saw you, his girlfriend whom he's more than just a little obsessed with, and the door feels like just another barrier in his way. He thought his job, which requires him to tour for half the year, was obstacle enough.

"Baby, I'm home!" he calls out eagerly, scanning the apartment for any sign of you. Disappointment flickers across his face when he doesn't immediately spot you waiting for him with open arms.

The honeyed tone of his voice instead echoes from the living room to your bedroom, drawing you to him like a magnet. Without wasting a moment, you rush down the stairs and wrap your arms around his neck.

You melt into each other effortlessly, as you always do. Your bodies seem custom-made for one another, fitting together perfectly. You've missed his touch, his warmth, in a way that FaceTime calls could never fulfil. Nothing compares to the physical presence of your Hyuck.

You plant a gentle kiss on the soft skin of his cheek before pulling back to meet his gaze. "You weren't supposed to be home for another four hours. What's going on?"

"I got an earlier flight because I missed you so much," he replies with a grin. 

You shake your head, but a smile still tugs at your lips. You've never encountered a man more smitten and in love than him. It's endearing, really. It's the kind of love his friends would tease him about if he didn't take so much pride in it.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to process the fact that he's here in your living room. You're happy, of course, but you had hoped to be all dolled up for his arrival, not standing in old pyjamas after months apart

"Well... are you hungry? We could order takeout if you want. You can tell me all about that tour that's kept you away from me for what feels like forever," you suggest with a smile, and his eyes soften at the invitation

"Babyyy," he whines, catching you off guard a little. His hands slide to your back, pulling you in by your waist as he plants a kiss on top of your head. "Can't we make dinner together?"

You raise an eyebrow, pulling away to look up at him, his hands still wrapped around you. "By 'we,' you mean me?"

"Of course not. You know I make an excellent sous chef. Restaurants should be grateful I chose music instead of culinary arts.” 

You shake your head, with a grin. "We never get anything done when we cook together. Remember last time?"

He smirks, recalling the memory. "It's not my fault you asked me to get something out of the fridge, and when I turned around, you were bent over the counter showing your ass to me. I couldn't help myself."

You give him a deadpan look but he only smirks more.

"And if we're being honest, I remember you loving it." His arms cross over his chest, the satisfaction in him beaming from knowing that you know he's right. You did enjoy those steamy cooking sessions, but not right now; you're hungry.

"Please, baby, I missed your cooking. Nothing any restaurant can make compares to your food," he pleads. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

And although you know better, and you know that there’s no such thing as "best behaviour" with Lee Donghyuck, you still can't resist. And so, you give in. 

Surprisingly, everything goes well. Hyuck isn’t too much of a distraction; instead, he follows your instructions without protest. He grabs ingredients, chops vegetables, and even compliments the head chef— and nothing catches fire.

Progress is being made.

That is until your boyfriend finishes the little tasks you assign him and wraps his arms around your waist while you chop ingredients.

“Hyuck… you promised—”

His plush lips melt against your neck so delicately that you nearly chop off your finger—though Hyuck won’t let that happen, gripping your hands to steady them. He chuckles softly, his lips quirking against your skin.

“I know what I said, Y/N,” he teases. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re not trying to help; you’re trying to distract.”

He laughs, “You know… I bought a new record while I was on tour. It has that one song you love.”

You pause, setting the knife down and pressing your hands against the counter as you turn to face him.

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, “I think we should play it while you cook.”

“I thought we were supposed to be cooking together?” 

Hyuck simply chuckles as he heads over to the record player in your kitchen and sets the record spinning. Soft guitar notes fill the space, and despite your need to focus, you can’t help but smile.

You watch as he dances across the cool kitchen tiles, a smirk on his lips, until he stands behind you. His hand finds your elbow, gently pulling you backwards.

The laugh that spills from you is warm and Hyuck matches it as his hands drift down your arms to your hands, fingers threading together before he pulls you back into his broad, solid chest. 

Strong arms cross your own chest, and the two of you start to sway against each other. The music is quiet and grainy and mixed with the sound of your feet creaking on the floor. 

The two of you float back and forth—a stream of sunlight streams in through the high window. You close your eyes and let the light shift across your eyelids. Hyuck’s lips find your ear, singing softly. The sound was gentle and sweet and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ll never forget the moment I realised I love you.”

You sink further against him, your voice humming as you ask, “Yeah? When was that?”

“The minute I saw you,” he breathes. “You were dancing so carelessly, and I knew then—you were my person. You’ll always be my person.”

You’re grinning like an idiot despite rolling your eyes as you let go of Hyuck’s hands and turn around in his arms. You slide your palms up his chest to wind around the back of his neck, pressing your foreheads together. 

“You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it,” he responds easily, smiling with his eyes closed as he continues to sway with you in the tiny kitchen of your tiny apartment. You nod, leaning forward to knock your noses together gently with an exaggerated sigh.

“I do. And I love you. I wouldn’t want to spend a minute loving anybody else.”

Hyuck hums, pulling you in closer and starts walking you backwards slowly until your hips rest against the counter. He dips down, curling his hands around the backs of your thighs and effortlessly hoists you up to sit on the edge. You open your eyes and run your fingers through his hair, twisting a perfect little strand around your finger just the way he likes it.

He looks back at you, eyes filled with patience and love. Then he leans in, drawing you into a soft, lazy kiss—because he’s finally home, because he can, because he loves doing it, because it’s all he ever wants to do from now until forever.  You melt against his chest, pressing up into the contact. When you break apart, Hyuck rests his lips against your temple, swaying gently with you in his arms.

“I’m so in love with you,” He says softly.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder and brush your nose back and forth against his neck as you close your eyes and smile.

“I love you too, Hyuck.”

You linger in the warmth of his touch until the sharp beeping of the oven interrupts the moment. You pull away slightly, frowning at the oven’s display.

“Ugh, I forgot I put that in there!” you exclaim, glancing over your shoulder to see smoke beginning to curl from the edges.

Hyuck chuckles, but there is no concern creeping into his voice. “Can’t believe my first meal home is going to be charcoal.” 

You rush to the oven, Hyuck close behind. As you open the door, a plume of smoke escapes, and you cough. 

“This is totally your fault! What happened to you not being distracting?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, leaning down to plant another soft kiss on your lips. “What can I say? I’m obsessed with you.”

[boneblushed]

Labyrinth

Uh oh, I’m falling in love / Oh no, I’m falling in love again

synopsis you’re reunited with your ex-boyfriend, Rafe, at an Outer Banks wedding.

tags Rafe Cameron x fem!reader, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn-ish, A LOT of angst, an equal amount of pining, an awful breakup but a wonderful reconciliation 💓

wc ~11k

“You look,” you murmur, squeezing Brooklyn’s shoulder gently, “perfect.”

She’s sitting in front of a round, gold-rimmed mirror, the windows on either side of her painting her skin a warm aureate. You stand in shadow behind her, the sunbeams unable to reach your pretty features. There’s a wistfulness to them that’s almost imperceptible.

Almost. If she weren’t your best friend, someone you’ve known since forever, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the way you were hiding from them. The smile on her face falters as she looks up at you through the mirror.

“Look,” she begins tentatively, frowning, “if this is too hard —”

“Do not,” you interrupt. You try for an encouraging smile; what you hope is an encouraging smile. “I’m totally fine, okay? I’m over it.”

A pause. Brooklyn’s reflection sends you a long, hard look. “No one would blame you if you weren’t.”

You know what that means, the insinuation behind her words: you were supposed to be the first one. It’s all anyone in the Figure Eight was saying when they first found out about your break-up: you’re meant for each other, though, we can’t imagine you not being a couple!

Well, neither could you, not that it really mattered. Six months on with half a heart and pulseless motive, you’ve come to realise that wretched pining comes at a costly price.

You can’t afford it anymore.

“I know,” you reply quietly.

The spaghetti strap of your cowl neck falls as you straighten, the periwinkle fabric shimmering forebodingly. An image of the Rafe you knew flashes in your mind, slipping it down to press a kiss on your skin. Your stomach drops.

“But I am,” you add, louder. As though you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are her. “I promise.”

Brooklyn stares at you for a long time before her gaze falls, acquiescing with a sigh. “I hate that you still don’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That he could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you.”

You bite back another wince, the fresh sting of forgotten feelings pricking at your eyelids. “I do believe it,” you say quietly. “I do. That’s what makes all of this so fucking hard — that I know we’re never getting a second chance. That he chose to throw all of it away and I’m never going to be able to forgive him for it.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though!”

“We were together for half our lives, Brooke!” You turn away from the mirror, taking in a jagged breath. “We — his mom had promised me her ring before she died, for God’s sake. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away from what we had?”

A long pause. Brooke’s voice is gentle, but her words cut like a knife. “It’s not as though you had a choice, Y/N/N. He didn’t give you one.”

You look around at her, unshed tears making your pretty eyes shine. “What does it say about me that I’m no closer to accepting that than I was six months ago?”

“Babe.” A tear falls. Brooke’s features soften, and she pulls you into a tight hug, enough pressure to wring out the melancholy in your chest. “It says that you’re human.”

She rocks you for a moment before you’re forced to pull apart, a knock on the door breaking your reverie. “God,” you self-reproach, sending Brooklyn a watery smile. “I would find a way to make your day about me, wouldn’t I?”

“Maybe I should ditch Kelce,” Brooklyn replies faux-seriously, catching the stray tears wetting your lower lids. “We can elope or something.”

As though on queue, the Universe intervenes before she can go through with this idea. Perhaps it knows, having watched the pair of grow close throughout college, that there’s a part of her that really would call this all off if you asked her to.

“Sweetheart!” Comes Brooklyn’s father’s voice from behind the door, punctuated by the sharp rap of his knuckles. “It’s nearly time!”

The tension ebbs. Suddenly, everything about this wedding—the same one you’ve been helping her plan forever—becomes entirely too real. Your melancholia is a tide in this way, flowing forth and receding as its surroundings permit. Never fading away; ever-present. Though it may not be as unbearable now as it was when you first broke up, it lingers.

You’re afraid that it always will. You push down this fear like you’ve done every other.

Focus. Your eyes widen in anticipation, mirroring Brooklyn’s as they transform into nervous excitement.

“Come in!” Brooklyn calls anxiously, biting back a squeal. You’re grateful for the fact that you haven’t ruined her mood completely. “Oh my god. Oh my god!”

She stands up and turns around just as her father enters the room, his lined face shining with a wistful sense of happiness. As the atmosphere in the room shifts, she glances back at you, and your insides twist in cruel mocking. More repentant than jealous. I was supposed to be the first one.

You don’t let your expression falter. The first few chords of the processional float into the room through the ajar door, and you spring into action, smoothing out your dress and readjusting your bouquet of flowers.

“That’s my queue,” you say, squeezing her arm once more before slipping past her and her father.

In true Kook fashion, Brooklyn’s wedding ceremony is taking place on the Island Club green. Upon exiting the storage room you’ve transformed into a vanity, you find yourself in the entranceway that leads to the venue, the set-up just visible beyond its oak doors.

Benches of beige driftwood sit on either side of the aisle, twined with buttery white lilies and ivy-like viridescence. They face a brilliant floral wedding arch, where the officiant and Kelce stand talking in hushed whispers. And the sky above you is a vibrant, cloudless blue, golden sunlight fanning down upon the crowd, bathing them aureate.

In the beat that passes, you search for someone you shouldn’t.

The last time that you saw him, he was hunched over his father’s office desk. His eyes were bloodshot and his tired gaze dull; half-finished documents stared up at him in mocking, and a nagging ache was making home in his chest.

The week prior, you hadn’t seen much of each other. And it wasn’t as though he’d requested this space—he rarely did, rarely asked you for anything—you’d just taken it upon yourself to give it to him. Stay in control. If you proposed time apart before he did, maybe it would feel more deliberate; hurt less.

You were dead wrong.

“Look,” he sighs, this cruel, heavy sound that splices right through your chest, “I realise I’ve been neglecting our relationship a lot recently.”

“Yes,” you respond tentatively. “But you’ve been under a lot of pressure recently. I get it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He glances up at you through red-rimmed irises. “I… I don’t know how long it’ll be like this. With everything that’s happened… my dad dying, and me taking over the firm —”

“I’ve seen you through all of it,” you interrupt quietly, your voice cracking. “I’ve — no questions asked, I’ve done it. I get it, Rafe, you’ve got different priorities at the moment. But we’ve loved each other for so long now that I —”

“But that’s the thing,” he says then, swallowing hard, “I just don’t know if I do anymore. Not as much as I used to.”

The silence that follows feels as though it’s suffocating you. You haven’t said a word, and Rafe’s said plenty, but it’s you with the lungs that heave for loveless oxygen.

“Oh.”

Rafe’s Adam’s apple jumps again, and he breaks eye contact as unshed tears brim to the surface. “I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t make any sense.

“Maybe,” you try, grappling hard for a logical explanation, “maybe your grief’s fucking with your ability to feel anything.”

Rafe’s gaze lifts to your face again, teardrop tracks making your pretty cheeks shine. His heart aches, hard, and he finds it difficult to catch his breath. “But… I’ve dealt with it,” he says quietly. “I’ve had to.”

“How can you have?” You throw back, exasperated. “Rafe you — you haven’t had a moment to yourself since his funeral last month, you’ve holed yourself up in his office and acted like everything’s fucking okay!”

“Because it is!” He replies, his face hardening momentarily. “I’m — I’m fucking fine, alright? I just need to be alone right now.”

“Because you don’t love me anymore.”

Rafe winces. Your lower lip trembles. “Yeah. Because something’s missing… the — the fucking spark, or whatever… and right now, I can’t give you the sort of love you deserve.”

He was tired of hurting you through his abjection, he’d said. As if breaking things off wasn’t the most hurtful thing he ever did.

Thankfully, you aren’t able to spot him in the crowd; if you had, walking down the aisle would have been infinitely more difficult. Out of courtesy to you—and Brooke forcing his hand, of course—he hadn’t asked Rafe to be a groomsman either, so you were well safe from an untimely encounter at pre-wedding festivities. And from standing opposite him in front of the altar. You aren’t sure such close proximity in holy matrimony would be healthy for either of you.

It’s unfair on him though, you know it is. He has as much a right being best man as you do maid of honour — the four of you were thick as thieves once upon a time; in fact, it was you that’d introduced Kelce to Brooklyn.

It feels like so long ago when you think back on it now, being nineteen-years-old with a naïve heart and nothing to lose.

You and Rafe had seemed invincible then, high-school sweethearts that were somehow surviving college-borne distance. Forever, that’s the word that ended every drunk call or late night text; forever, and the promise of a proposal and beach-side villa.

“Shi—did you not see the sock on the door, Smith?” Rafe groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in defeat. He’s spent the past half hour getting you into a compromising position, his rough hands awry and his wet mouth on your soft skin. The amaranthine imprint of his kisses have made home on your neck. You’re straddling him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he really doesn’t want to sacrifice any amount of closeness.

Kelce enters the room tentatively, his hand firmly pressed over his eyes. “Hard to miss. You two decent or what?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You let out a peal of laughter as Rafe glowers at his roommate, his calloused palms dropping from your hips to your thighs. You push the fabric of your dress over his hands, but he kneads the flesh anyway, the skin on skin like spare oxygen.

Kelce peeks at you from between his fingers before pulling them away, an unimpressed look on his face. “C’mon, surely you’re done with her Cameron. I’ve given you guys the entire fucking day together.”

“Half an hour,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes narrowing.

“As if you need more than five minutes,” Kelce snorts, plopping down on the bed opposite Rafe’s.

“Oh fuck—” Rafe’s large hands circle your thighs and tighten, standing up and advancing toward Kelce with you in his arms, “—right off—”

“Rafe!” You gasp, suppressing another surprised laugh. “Put me down, you asshole.”

“No way, Y/N/N,” Kelce says then, raising his arms in preemptive surrender. “Your PDA’s the only reason he hasn’t given me a shiner yet.”

Rafe affirms this sentiment by pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, his eyes still narrowed as he glares at Kelce. “You’re lucky I love my girlfriend more than I do my fucking reputation.”

Kelce makes a face, keeling over and mock-gagging. “Yeah, yeah, you guys have been bethrothed since fucking pre-K, I get it. Now will you stop being so possessive and let me have a conversation with her?”

You look over your shoulder at him, untangling your arms from Rafe’s neck so he can let you down gently. When he does so, it’s with great reluctance, and he doesn’t hesitate to circle your chest so he can pull you back against him. His strong bicep is warm against your neck, solid pressure.

“What’s up, Kelcey?” You ask, surveying him with interest.

“Ghosted,” he says gloomily, falling back against his duvet, “again.”

Rafe glances down at you at the same time you look up at him, a sage, sympathetic emotion passing between you. In the weeks after your break-up, you’ll come to yearn for this emotion more than anything else — that feeling of being immune to inadequacy, of having found the love of your life so effortlessly.

“You’ve gotta stop coming on so hard, bro,” Rafe says, resting his chin on your forehead. “These sorority chicks are probably all looking for something casual.”

“He can’t help the fact that he’s a lover boy, Rafe,” you defend, frowning. “You’ve just gotta find a girl that wants what you want, Kelce.”

Kelce raises his head hopefully. “Know anyone like that, Y/N/N?”

“Well,” you pause, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully, “I am thinking of inviting my roommate Brooklyn to the Bahamas over summer break —”

“To Rafe’s?” This piques Kelce’s interest. He props himself up onto his elbows, a hopeful grin transforming his features. “Sold.”

How times change.

Today, Kelce stands at the other end of the aisle, waiting for the same Brooklyn that was once your roommate, now his almost wife. He’s wearing an elegant black tuxedo with a lily tucked into the breast pocket, its buttery white petals shining in the sun. He looks so, unimaginably, happy. It should’ve been you and Rafe. Your heartstrings twinge.

“You’re not ready,” you murmur as you pass him on the altar, finding your place opposite his best man, Topper.

Kelce smiles at you, a little nervous, a little unshed. “Will I ever be?”

You shake your head, smiling in tandem.

The wedding procession is a brilliant display of love, and you find a way to make it about your lack thereof. Seconds blur, minutes melt into each other, and your poor mind strays to when things were far simpler. The Island Club was your date night spot, once upon a time. It’s where you’d envisioned you’d get proposed to; where you would get married one day, too. Just like this.

You’re happy for them, you swear it. It’s just a difficult emotion to maintain when the opposite comes so naturally.

Rafe doesn’t arrive until the reception itself.

He wants to believe that this is entirely accidental — he’s had a long day at the office, filled with several meetings with prospective clients. He can’t though, his wretched conscience won’t let him. He chose to go to work today, chose to schedule important meetings at the same time as Kelce’s nuptials.

He thinks he knows why this is, and isn’t sure whether he can handle the why in a satin slip and strappy heels. He wants to believe that he meant everything he said to you six months prior, but the dreadful ache in his chest crescendos in mocking every time he tries this.

He’s made a mistake. He won’t admit this if it killed him. But he knows, deep down, that something isn’t right about all of this.

If he really didn’t love you anymore, if that fucking spark was missing, there shouldn’t have been anything to move on from—the ship should have already departed. But he’s struggling, hard, and his thoughts juxtapose his actions. Despite telling you that he needs to be alone for the time being, you remain unmoored in his mind, rocking back and forth but never sinking.

He’s done his fair share of fucking up over the past few months. Got into something else too quickly, tried that no contact thing and failed miserably. There’s no going back after everything that’s happened. And yet…

“Hello?” He greets you like it’s a question; like greeting you isn’t second nature anymore. Your stomach turns.

When you respond, your voice comes out jagged, pained. “Look. I get that you’re doing this ‘no contact’ thing, or whatever, but Sarah told me something pretty fucked up and I think you owe me an explanation.” Your voice is far weaker.

Rafe winces, a familiar ache pulling through his chest. “If this is about Elle —”

“It’s been a month, Rafe. You may as well have cheated.”

…that fucking hug.

After you’d confronted him about shamelessly flirting with Sarah’s friend, Elle—in front of Sarah, no less, who told you the second it happened—he’d asked to meet up in person and explain himself.

You weren’t quite sure what to make of it all, which is probably why you’d foolishly agreed to hear him out. Ward had hired Elle as an intern before his death; she’d been around a while, long enough for an affair.

It shifted bile into your throat.

And when you’d met him, the exact opposite of what you’d hoped had happened. He’d had the gall to tell you that he thinks something’s there, that he feels that bullshit spark that he swore was missing in your relationship.

What were you meant to say?

But then he’d apologised, recognised it was too soon, begged to stay friends. Friends—like a platonic relationship is in any way gift receipt redeemable. And ironically, hearing him out wasn’t even your biggest mistake, it was that wretched hug goodbye that you’d permitted you get.

It was as though that hug held everything unsaid. Your figure had moulded against his quite perfectly, and why wouldn’t it? He’s the only romantic embrace you’d known since you were a teenager.

And when you’d finally pulled away, separated the pieces of your heart that were finally greeting his again, you hadn’t realised that he’d think about that hug for weeks gone by, just like you.

All the way up until Christmas, which occurred two months after your sudden break-up.

It was the last time you saw him under the pretence of amicability, when you came by Tannyhill to drop off presents and see his family. Mostly him. It felt pathetic, even then; for all you knew, Elle was on his mind and you were somewhere insignificant.

Rafe’s pretty sure he’s fucking doomed.

Your laugh reverberates through Tannyhill like a siren song, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never not recognise the sound of it. It’s as though every bone in his body vibrates in tune to it—so unabashed, so freeing. Far more painful now than it used to be.

You’ve become so many Taylor Swift songs and none of them end happy.

He follows your sweet timbre to the hallway before he can help himself. Once upon a time—God, it feels so long ago now—he’d have been the first person you’d have texted before dropping by the house. Instead, as he stands paralysed at the foot of the stairs, it’s Sarah who’s hugging you, who gets to hold you in her arms.

Luckily for him, your eyes are closed in the embrace, and he’s afforded a second to recalibrate after taking you in. He’s known that you’re beautiful like his first memory on Earth, but that doesn’t mean your proximity leaves him any less winded. You’re fresh-faced with limbs that have an untouchable quality to them; you aren’t his to mark anymore, no longer his to ruin.

He can’t remember the last time he kissed you. He wants to remember so fucking bad. You’re slipping through his calloused fingers and fragments of you are all he has.

“You didn’t have to get us anything!” Sarah exclaims, pulling away faux-disprovingly.

“Hey, don’t do that, of course I did.” Your arms fall back to your side, and you open your eyes in tandem. When they flit past Sarah’s face and find Rafe’s instead, it feels as though someone has tipped ice-cold water down your singlet. A pause. “You’re family.”

Sarah notes the change in your tone with a frown, turning to look over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says, her expression hardening. “Sorry, Y/N/N. I didn’t know he was home.”

You swallow. “It’s no big,” you reply, forcing yourself to look back at her. “We’re alright, really. But I should go, I have a few more presents to drop off.”

Sarah frowns harder. “You sure you don’t want to stay a bit? I know Rose’d love to see you, we’ve all really missed having you around —”

“I’m sure,” you interrupt, handing her the bag of presents you’ve wrapped. “I’ll send her a text, okay? And listen,” you pause, your expression softening a little, “I know this holiday season’s going to be hard without your dad, and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”

Sarah’s eyes well with tears. “It’s going to be hard without you too, Y/N,” she murmurs. “You’re my sister.”

Your features sadden in tandem, and you give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And I always will be. You know that.”

“You should come to Christmas, then,” she says hopefully.

“I —” you falter as your voice cracks, grimacing slightly, “— I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.”

When you turn around, something in Rafe’s chest cracks too. He’s still hanging on to that expression-softening catalyst from a moment prior, yearning hard for the feeling of being on the receiving end of your love.

“Why the fuck,” Sarah fumes, rounding on him once you’re out of earshot, “do you have to ruin everything you touch?”

Rafe doesn’t even have it in him to wince. “I don’t know,” he responds quietly, with an honesty that aches. “If I did, maybe I’d have found a way to fix it.”

Sarah takes pause. Slight disbelief transforms her features. “You have to still love her. How can’t you?”

“I don’t know, alright?” Rafe runs his hand through his hair slovenly. “I just — I’m not happy anymore. It’s not fucking there… I don’t know if it’ll ever come back.”

“What isn’t?”

“The… the spark.”

“Bullshit,” Sarah spits out, accusatory. “The ‘spark’ is fucking bullshit, Rafe. You’re telling me you’ve felt it the entire time you’ve known her? You’re telling me this doesn’t have anything to do with dad’s death?”

Rafe swallows thickly, discomfort coating his throat. “I don’t, alright? All I know is I can’t give her what she needs right now; I don’t know if I ever will.”

To this day, he doesn’t know about your detour that evening — how instead of driving home, you took a left to the look-out where you shared your first kiss. He doesn’t know that the waves crashing ashore bore witness to your heartbreak; that sunset orange painted your tear-streaked cheeks a gentler amber. Caressed them, subdued them, where he no longer could. He doesn’t know you agonised over how much his hair had grown in your absence, the subtle stubble on his jaw, the stark outline of his biceps.

The him that’s foreign to you, now; the him that’s Elle’s and not yours.

At twenty-four years old, Rafe Cameron doesn’t know fucking anything.

Of course, once he does eventually recognise that his ‘something there’ with Elle is a rebound, it’s too late to entertain returning to you with his tail between his legs.

He can’t. Not after everything he’s put you through in the past. So he allows regret to caulk his limbs and bitterness to coat his insides, and Rafe Cameron does what he does best — pushes it down and ignores it.

Which brings him here, a non-attendee to his best friend’s wedding and an hour late to his reception.

He sidles into the venue through a pair of double doors, and the first thing he notices is the dimmed sconces and muted fairy lights. It’s the first thing, because perplexingly, the crowd is hard to discern but you glow anyway. A spotlight illuminates the centre of the room where Brooklyn and Kelce share their first dance, but they don’t draw his gaze, your beautiful features do.

Of course you do, in your strappy cowl neck slip. There’s less periwinkle fabric than he’d anticipated, more exposed limbs, and Rafe feels like he’s run a fucking marathon as he takes you in. And your pretty eyes and glossy lips cascade into a bare neck; soft skin that’s forgotten his rough touch, his bruising kisses.

It’s momentary lust that his regret promptly squashes. He can’t think those thoughts about you anymore, even if they’re almost second nature. Even if he’s spent more tangible years of his life as your boyfriend than he has a fucking stranger.

That’s what you guys are meant to be right now: strangers. His stomach coils. His tired eyes search for the open bar on instinct.

Once he’s acquired a whiskey neat and a glass of champagne, he pulls through the crowd and makes toward your figure.

You aren’t as lucky as he is to mentally prepare for a reunion. When he holds out the shimmering flute and prompts your gaze toward him, there’s a split-second of slack-jawed diffidence before you find your common sense.

God, you wish he wasn’t so easy to stare at.

He’s wearing an expression that isn’t yours anymore, with his thick brows furrowed and lips slightly parted. Yearning, but he can’t be. His blue eyes make your heart leap. Your gaze lifts before it falls, taking in his damp hair, his larger than ever frame. Both feel unfamiliar; he’s shed the skin and aureate curls your fingers once traced. Same notes of patchouli on his neck, though you note the absence of the silver chain you once bought him for Christmas.

Does he still have it, somewhere, hidden in a shoebox under his bed? (His hand is so close to your chest, it feels like you’re dying.) Is it as painful for him to see you like this after months and months of no contact?

Can’t be. Shouldn’t be. The ache may linger, agonisingly, but you’re stronger now than you were when he first ended things.

“Oh,” is all you can muster, accepting the flute of champagne. When your fingers brush, you reprimand the jolt of static. Lust may be hard to shake, but you resolve to let logic prevail. “Thanks.”

Rafe feels it too, harder, more unbearable. “Don’t mention it.”

You break eye contact to look out into the crowd, though it’s a struggle finding anything to focus on. “When’d you arrive?”

“Five minutes ago,” he admits, staring at your side profile for a second longer than he probably should. He analyses the glittery stuff on your cheekbones—highlighter?—for traces of a familiar feeling. “Work shit.”

“Ah,” you reply, raising your eyebrows at him. “Some things never change, huh?”

Rafe winces. “Look, Y/N, I —”

“I’m kidding, Rafe, relax,” you interrupt, sending him a small smile. It makes his stomach turn. “It’s all going well, I hope?”

“It is, yeah,” he responds, smiling in tandem. “Ish. Still doing a fuck tonne of late nights and weekends.”

“Bummer.” It feels strange, making small talk in this way. Strange, though not particularly as awful as you’d predicted. “How’re Rose and your sisters?”

“Yeah, they’re good,” they miss you, “Sarah’s going to UCLA in the fall.”

You nod. “She told me.”

Something in Rafe’s chest drops. He turns to you, his piercing gaze making your skin burn. “I didn’t realise you guys kept in touch.”

“We’ve always been really close. You know that.”

Because of me. “Right.” His eyes fall to your throat as you take another pull of champagne, smooth and unblemished and painfully foreign. “I’m glad.”

You turn to him then, an unreadable expression on your face. “Me too.”

A beat. The pair of you stare at each as the surroundings buzz into static.

“Listen, Rafe, I —”

“Y/N, I’ve been —”

You falter first, scrunching up your face abashedly. “Sorry. You go.”

“I…” Rafe pauses, running his calloused palm through his hair, “I guess I just want to apologise. For everything.”

Your eyes widen, and you turn away from him abruptly. “Rafe, I don’t know if now is the best time to have this conversation.”

“Shit, I know. I know I’m about five months too late and don’t deserve to be heard out.”

“Well,” you pause, chewing on your bottom lip apprehensively. Your voice quietens. “Maybe not at a wedding.”

Or ever. You tip back the rest of your champagne just as the slow dance fades out, breaking away from him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Rafe fucking hopes so. He needs a clean slate if it’ll kill him. He nods reluctantly, watching you disappear into the crowd in front of him. The ache in his chest crescendos as the physical distance swallows you completely.

—

“We love you,” Brooklyn mouthes, blowing you a kiss through the open window. The limousine she’s in stretches forward with jet-black grandiosity, its ignition blaring alive as you catch it in mid-air.

When you blow one back, Kelce peeks over her shoulder and sends you a wink. The pair of them wave to the wedding-goers surrounding you before the vehicle pulls forward, leaving you in its dust. You watch them exit the Island Club gates, and a sense of bittersweet melancholia finds home in your chest.

That should’ve been you. You turn around as the crowd begins to disperse and find yourself face to face with Rafe once again.

“Oh,” you say, looking up at him in surprise. When your expression relaxes—in recognition—his chest pulls in tandem. “They’re sweet, huh?”

Us; that should’ve been us. Rafe nods, smiling wistfully. “Can you believe you’re the one that set them up?”

“At your holiday house,” you return, smiling in tandem. “This was a two-person wing man job.”

“Nah. You were the one that saw their potential.” A pause. “You’ve always been really good at that.”

Your brow furrows. “At setting people up?”

“At seeing their potential,” Rafe corrects. An unreadable emotion crosses his blue irises. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”

Your expression falters. You aren’t sure what to say to this, so you don’t say anything at all.

“Listen,” Rafe tries again, scratching the back of his neck, “d’you need a ride?”

“Well…”

You hesitate, looking over his shoulder for your parents. When you spot them, they’re in avid conversation with some family friends; they look extremely comfortable, like they’re going to be dawdling until God knows when.

You’re searching for justification even though he doesn’t deserve it. After all the pain he’s caused you, your wretched heart still yearns for more.

Fucking sadist.

“Actually, yeah,” you finish after a beat, bringing your gaze back to him. “That’d be great, thank you.”

His shoulders relax. “Yeah, of course. You have all your things?”

“Uh huh.”

“This way.”

You allow him to guide you to his pick-up trunk, pretend that you didn’t discern it right away. Besides, you were meant to have forgotten the location of his unofficial ‘official’ parking spot. So you follow him toward it, deny the familiarity of its number plate, and act like every dent and wretched scratch isn’t a piece of your heart.

“Shit—ow!” You curse, hurtling forward as you stall, again. “This is fucking impossible, Rafe. I quit.”

Rafe grins perplexedly, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Baby,” he placates, “if Top can learn to drive manual, anyone can.”

You make a frustrated noise, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not me, clearly.”

Rafe lets out a laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt so he can pull you into his lap. “C’mere.”

When he does so—with entirely too much ease—he pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb so he can guide your lips against his. It’s an unhurried kiss, a sure press of emotion, as though he’s rousing the embers that live within your ribcage.

He has this funny way of leaving you out of breath no matter how chaste the embrace. You break away reluctantly, raising your eyebrows at him. “So is this the reward system you used when you were teaching him to drive, hot-shot?”

Rafe makes a face, dipping his head to sponge a kiss to your neck. “Why? You jealous?”

“Never,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “You wouldn’t dream of leaving me for someone else, Rafe Cameron. The Figure Eight wouldn’t forgive you if you did.”

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.” Another teeth-scraping kiss. “I’d be crazy to let you go. I’ve been in love with you since we were freshman.”

He doesn’t open the passenger’s side door for you after unlocking his pick-up truck. That isn’t his place anymore.

He wants to, anyway. You want him to, badly. This revelation passes unsaid between the two of you as you climb into the seat yourself, unscathed by chivalry.

Once you’re buckled in, your gaze lifts to the new air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. “Huh,” you say, flicking it absently, “you replaced it.”

He wants to say, you left me no choice. He wants to say, old spice smells like you. “Oh yeah,” he replies instead, clearing his throat. “Rose got me it.”

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks.”

He shifts into reverse and backs out of the park, and there’s a split second where he almost places his hand on your headrest. He can’t do that anymore. Too close; not close enough. You notice it too. An ache passes from his heart to yours.

“Are you going to take any time off over summer break?” You ask, keeping your gaze on the road ahead.

Rafe pulls out onto the main road before turning to you and responding, “I wasn’t planning on it, but I think I might need some.”

“I think you might need some too,” you agree, sending him a fleeting smile. “Bahamas?”

You don’t expect the tears in his eyes that follow. You straighten abruptly, your eyebrows pulling together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean —”

“No—shit, I just—” he falters as his voice cracks, clearing his throat again, “I don’t think I could go back there any time soon. Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “Your dad, of course. I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes in a jagged breath. “Shit, I’m the one that should be apologising. For everything.”

“Rafe —”

“No, listen…”

He pauses as he turns left onto your street, pulling onto the side of the road as soon as he can. He’s still a good mile away from your house, but it feels an injustice to keep you waiting for an explanation. When he turns and angles his body toward you, there’s a brokenness on his face that makes your miserable heart falter.

“I’m… I’m so sorry for everything I put you through after I broke up with you. Even if that was what I needed at the time, even if it was the right decision, I shouldn’t have been so fucking heartless and I regret not reaching out to you more often.”

You swallow thickly. He takes your silence as encouragement to keep going.

“You deserved better than the way I treated you… you’ve always deserved better than me. I didn’t know how to deal with all of my grief and I pushed you away in the process. It was… fuck, it was so selfish of me, and I’m sorry. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for it.”

He’s taken all of the oxygen in the car, and you find yourself struggling for air. You turn to him, every drunken rationalisation manifest. “Thank you,” you whisper, “for saying that.”

“And listen, the Elle thing —”

Too much. “Rafe,” you interrupt, swallowing again. “Stop. It’s fine. I accept your apology.”

Rafe frowns, the furrow in his brow painfully evident. “Yeah? Because… because I’d understand if you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you affirm, turning away from him. “Besides, it’s ancient history. I forgave you a long time ago in my head.”

“You did?” Rafe’s asks, searching your features in earnest. “Why?”

The champagne you’ve consumed swirls uncomfortably in your stomach. “I had to,” you say quietly. “It was the only way I was going to be able to move on from the situation.”

Rafe’s stomach drops. “Which you have.”

“Which I have.”

The smokescreen between you smothers any semblance of hope you might’ve shared. He nods, turning on the ignition once again. “I hope that means you’re happy, Y/N.”

“It does,” you reply, “I am.”

“Good.” It doesn’t feel good at all. “Maybe this means we can be friends.”

You turn to him again, raising your eyebrows. “Friends?”

“Like we were before,” he affirms, putting the car into drive. His fingers brush the bare skin of your thigh near the gearshift. A very unfriend-like jolt of static shoots into your chest. “I… I don’t know. Sometimes I think I just miss my best friend.”

Your heart sighs. “Me too.”

“Friends then.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sending him a small smile. “Friends.”

—

You haven’t been to Shake Shack since you broke up with Rafe. You didn’t even realise you’d evaded it so long; perhaps it was a subconscious thing, too many painful memories to bear.

You remember when it first opened up in the Banks, this egalitarian refuge nestled between the Cut and Figure Eight.

Rafe Cameron remembers too, remembers bringing you here on your very first date. Roguish at fourteen with endless charm and a handsome face, he had far less creases etched onto his forehead then; far less familial expectations to deal with.

If only you knew he’s evaded it too. When he pulls into the carpark, the aforementioned date comes forth in fragments.

When memories lie dormant so long in one’s head, they tend to lose the stitches that hold them together. Nervousness, excitement, cherry coke and a lilac singlet. The strange feeling of forever before either of you could place it. He doesn’t remember any of your conversation, nor how long the date lasted, but he remembers the cloudless sky, the flutter of new love in his stomach.

The pair of you share a look before exiting his pick-up truck. A look that says: uh oh, and insinuates far more than that.

“So how’s work going, anyway?” Rafe asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. He’s a beat behind you head toward the entrance, and you can feel your neck burn where his eyes remained trained on you.

“Yeah, alright, same old,” you say, sending him a fleeting smile over your shoulder. His blue irises are dappled golden in sunlight, and their brilliance unsteadies you, the eye-contact like a firestarter. You clear your throat. “Sam quit.”

Rafe’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding,” you shake your head, “he ended things with Peyton and booked a Contiki in South East Asia.”

“Shiiiiiit,” Rafe wolf whistles, shaking his head in tandem. “Is he going through some kind of quarter life crisis?”

You shrug. “Who would let someone like Peyton go, huh?”

Rafe resists the urge to wince. He can think of one person in particular who threw away something far more special. He clears his throat significantly, regret like molasses coating the sides of his windpipe. “Yeah. How’s she doing with it all?”

“Oh you know Peyton, she’s the queen of acting unbothered,” you reply, sounding reproachful. “Even when she’s heartbroken, she refuses to tell me about it.”

Rafe frowns. “Fuck that.”

“Yeah?” You send him a wayward glance, raising your eyebrows knowingly. “Cause to me, it sounds like someone else I used to know.”

There’s a pause as he meets your gaze, a frightening wistfulness passing between you. It lingers.

“Right.” You’re at the entrance to Shake Shack now, and Rafe grapples for purchase on the one thing he can control—friends. He pulls open the door and beckons you forward, “So. Is today the day you branch out and order something new, Y/N?”

When you pass by him, a tendril-like brush of shoulder on chest, the buttery scent of your vanilla perfume lingers. A lot about you does, a lot more than he’d care to admit.

Rafe’s wretched heart cycles between the old and new you like it’s trying to make them both fit within its chambers.

“Don’t think I have a choice,” you reply, sending him a smile over your shoulder. “They’ve completely revamped their menu since the last time we were here.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows at you. “They have?” You checked?

“Uh huh,” you reply, nodding. “I was going to make a reservation here for our anniversary way back when.” You clear your throat. “When I went on their website to do so, I realised that their menu was totally different.”

You leave out the part where you’d stopped by soon after, asked—no, begged—the manager to serve you the originals when you came. You know, when old time’s sake was a sacred concept. When that sweet, lovesick version of you still existed.

“Oh shit,” Rafe says. Though it’s subtle, he catches the smidge of diffidence in your voice, like the ghost of relationship’s past rearing its ugly head. You checked, for him, and you’re so nonchalant about it. Like it may have mattered then, but right now it matters far less.

He feels an awful twinge in his chest. He adds, “That sucks.” He isn’t sure whether he’s referring to the change in menu or the change in your heart’s purpose.

“I know.”

“I was looking forward to ordering the usual.”

“Me too.” You shrug. “We’re just going to have to find a new usual, I guess.”

What you mean is, make new memories that’ll replace the old ones. What you mean is, erase the nostalgia being here brings.

Also, though you’d never willingly admit it, start anew.

Rafe nods, stepping forward and glancing up at the menu. Though it’s different to the one he remembers from his youth, the interior of the diner is comfortingly familiar — same ugly yellow track lights, same checkered linoleum underfoot. Same fingerprint-smudged counter and broken drinks machine, same uniform on the workers, same greasy smell permeating.

And the same booth you were partial to nestled in one corner, it’s retro cushion covers faded as ever.

The menu, and the girl beside him. The only two things that feel different.

“Hm.” You frown, deliberating over the menu. “I’m thinking the ‘classic’. You want to split some curly fries?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, his blue eyes full of mirth. “So the one that’s exactly your old order, minus the pickles. Got it.”

“Yes,” you decide. “Except I’ll ask them to add pickles.”

“Of course you will.” Rafe grins. “I’ll get the same.”

You gasp, faux-scandalised. “Rafe Cameron eating pickles? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “How d’you know I’m not just ordering it to pawn ‘em off to you?”

You balk. “I don’t, I guess.”

“And yes, to the curly fries,” he adds, quick to change the subject. The bashfulness on your features dissipates, but the tension in the room weighs ever-present.

You nod, sliding your wallet out of your back-pocket. “Should we just split the bill, then?”

“No way,” Rafe says, clasping your wrist to hold it in place. Your pulse feels funny. “I got it.”

“Rafe.” You frown, shaking your head. “Look, it really isn’t a big deal —”

It is to me. “Exactly,” he interrupts. “Which is why I got it.”

Maybe you should argue some more, insist on paying until he gives in. But you don’t. Between the pulse-jolting closeness and mocking sense of nostalgia, you aren’t sure you have it in you to retaliate.

Though in an act of rebellion, you avoid your usual booth. Once you’re seated at a new table and separated by your burgers, you re-enter this stupid friendship thing you’ve adopted. The one that boasts no-strings like the red one isn’t obvious.

“So,” you say, popping a curly fry in your mouth. “You remember Maya, right?”

Rafe makes a face. “That psycho roommate you had in senior year? Yeah, pretty hard to forget.”

“Well, she hit me up a month ago to let me know she’d be in the Banks to see her boyfriend.” At his audible gasp, you nod significantly. “I know. Asked if I wanted to catch up while she was here.”

Rafe wolf whistles in amusement. “No fucking way. After the Hell she put you through?”

“I fucking know,” you reply, grimacing in disdain.

Rafe raises his eyebrows, swallowing down a handful of curly fries. “Tell me you said no.”

You raise yours in tandem. “What do you think, casanova?”

“Y/N!” He groans, shaking his head. “Why do you put yourself through this shit?”

You frown, reaching for your soda and sipping stubbornly. Condensation rolls down your palm, the soft skin shining. “C’mon! It was useful, I swear. I got the intel on Maya and her mystery OBX man.”

Rafe leans forward in interest, taking a pull of his soda too. “Go on then.”

“God, I’ve been sitting on this information for ages,” you say, your pretty eyes full of excitement. Rafe’s heart leaps. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but we weren’t talking and you were avoiding me and I didn’t know whether I should break no contact.”

It deflates just as quickly, sinking into his stomach like deadweight. “I wasn’t… I don’t know, I thought it’d be best if I kept my distance.” He sighs, sitting back and raking his fingers through his hair. “Clearly that was a mistake. I haven’t been this relaxed in fucking ages.”

You smile small. “Yeah. This is nice.”

“Nice.”

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, this sticky, molasses-like something rising from your chest, “it’s Dylan. Like Dylan fucking Young that had a crush on me in freshman year.”

“Fuck off, seriously?” Rafe replies, mirth evident on his features. “Not kidding, think it’d be grounds for a restraining order if she ever found that out.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows significantly. “You promise to take this to your grave, Cameron?”

Rafe nods, faux-somber, extending his pinky toward you. “He won’t hear it from me, Y/L/N.”

When your fingers entwine, you wonder whether he feels it too. It’s a jolt of static that leaves your skin warm and your insides funny, and you wonder whether the effect it has on you is endearing or pathetic.

The latter, you conclude. The red string of fate disagrees.

“Good,” you say, retrieving your hand. “Oh, and,” you take a generous bite of your burger, “did you hear that Taylor’s moving to Texas?”

“I did, actually,” Rafe replies. “From Top, funnily enough.”

You frown. “He’s still pining, huh?”

“Unfortunately.” He pulls apart his burger to pick out the green pickles, placing them onto your plate before re-assembling. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. In the offensive, fluorescent lighting, they shine up at you in mocking. “Anyway, I should probably learn to get used to it. I’m moving into Kelce’s room now that he’s happily wed.”

Your jaw slackens in surprise. “You’re moving in with Topper?”

Rafe grins. “I know. Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“But,” you pause, popping another curly fry into your mouth, “why?”

“Needed to get out of Tannyhill, I guess.” He falters, swallowing down the bile-like rise of emotion from his chest. “Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “That makes sense.”

“Besides, Sarah’s starting college soon, and Wheeze’s off at boarding school for the majority of the year anyway.” He shrugs. “And Rose… well, she’s at the Bahamas house more than she is in the OBX.”

“Too many memories,” you repeat, frowning sadly.

“Yeah. I guess.”

There’s silence then, the comfortable kind. An emotion passes between you that feels both familiar and new at the same time.

It matters less when you finally finish, what you speak about, whether you’ll meet again. All you know is, something feels different now, as though there’s embers that this reunion has reignited in your ribcage. Dormant though they had once been, you’d always hoped that the renewed hope would set them aflame.

The next day, you wake up to a text from Rafe.

thank you for yesterday. It was really nice.

You don’t have it in you to reply; Rafe doesn’t mind. He knows you feel the same way.

—

It’s a few weeks before you see him again, at a farewell party for Brooklyn and Kelce.

Prior to embarking on their honeymoon, they were shifting their lives to Chicago; laying down the foundations of stability so they could return to a clean slate.

It upsets you to no end. You’d always assumed that her marriage to Kelce would guarantee that she settles down in the Banks.

Rafe Cameron must remember this, the way he does everything else. He hands you a beer and clinks his own against it, beads of condensation sliding over his calloused hand.

“Huh,” he murmurs, shaking his head in faux-disappoint, “so much for staying here and ruling the Eight with an iron fist.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, taking a generous pull of beer. Rafe’s gaze falls to the bare column of your throat, and he temporarily loses his bearings. “Does loyalty mean absolutely nothing around here?”

Rafe grins appreciatively. “They’re bound to come back, you know.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because,” Rafe pauses, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “we were all cursed by the hometown witch when we were babies.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Is that why I came back here after college?”

It isn’t lost on you that Rafe is standing far closer to you than he should. His spicy, cedar-wood cologne presses over your figure in waves. He bows his head to eye level, still grinning his mirth, “It’s why we all did. It’s also why they aren’t going to last more than a year in Chicago, I’m calling it now.”

“Who isn’t going to last more than a year in Chicago?” Comes Brooklyn’s voice from behind him, pulling the pair of you from your reverie.

He breaks away and turns to find her standing behind him, her eyebrows raised accusatorially at your closeness.

You smile guiltily at her, raising your arms in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t deny it either!” Brooklyn reproaches, faux-scandalised. She sends Rafe a playful glare, reaching for your arm and pulling you away. “I’m rescuing her from your bad influence, Cameron.”

Rafe nods sagely, taking a sip of his beer. “I think that’s wise, Astor—” he balks, shaking his head, “—sorry, Smith. Shit, Brooklyn Smith, huh? Guess I can’t do that last name thing ‘round here anymore, can I?”

“Not with us,” she replies, turning the pair of you around. She sends you the ghost of a wink before adding, “Y/N’s fair game, though. You know she’d rather die than take a guy’s last name.”

Something in Rafe’s chest deflates. “Yeah?”

You frown at him over your shoulder, mildly bewildered. “You knew that, Cameron.”

Maybe I thought I was different. “True.” He raises his beer bottle in acknowledgement. “Besides, Y/L/N suits you too much.”

Not as much as Cameron would have, once upon a time. You nod approvingly, the twinge in your heart conveying the exact opposite. “Doesn’t it just?”

Brooklyn steers you to the kitchen under the pretence of grabbing a drink, her true intentions becoming obvious when Kelce pivots into earshot on his barstool.

“So?” She prods, rounding on you once you’ve halted. “What’s the deal?”

“Deal?” You echo, feigning confusion. “What deal?”

“Don’t do that,” she replies, narrowing her eyes accusatorially. “Are you guys seeing each other again?”

You swallow. Your gaze darts to a helpless-looking Kelce. “Why? Has he said something?”

“That’s the thing,” Kelce mutters, shaking his head thoughtfully. “He hasn’t. But he’s… different.”

You frown. “Different how?”

“I don’t know… chiller. Happier. Like he was before Ward passed away.”

“Of course he is,” Brooklyn snorts, not buying it for a second. “He’s finally being absolved of all his guilt!”

“Brooklyn…” you sigh.

“What? It’s true!” She asserts, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s… listen, Y/N, whatever you think this is, you need to snap out of it. He’s proved time and time again that he doesn’t have the emotional capability to deal with his shit, and you’ve been made collateral too many times to forgive him this quick.”

“Quick?” Your chest feels on fire. Isn’t seven months of torture enough exoneration?

“C’mon baby, you’ve gotta cut him some slack,” Kelce assuages, gentle but firm. “He fucked up, sure, but he also lost his dad, remember?”

“Grieving or not, he shouldn’t have pushed her away.”

“Granted, but we’ll never know exactly how he was feeling —”

“We shouldn’t have to, you just don’t do that to someone you love —”

“I’m still here, you know,” you interrupt quietly, frowning. “That someone that Rafe doesn’t love.”

A pause. Its silence that’s distilled in the overhead lighting, the scene beneath it awash in dim regret.

Brooklyn’s features are softer when she breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I worry about you.”

You know she does; it isn’t her fault. She’s the one that slept over for four weeks straight post break-up, forced food down your throat and wiped away all your tears.

“Don’t apologise, Brooke, I get it,” you say, sending her a small smile. “But I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t even… this feels different.”

“Different how?”

“Like… you know that saying: ‘You’ll never find the same person twice, not even in the same person’? That’s how this feels. We haven’t fallen back into old habits.”

Brooklyn regards this for a moment, surveying your features carefully. “But you’ve been hanging out?”

“Only once,��� you reply honestly. “Sent a few texts back and forth, that’s all. If… if anything were to happen, it’d be like a new relationship, not like restarting the old one. You know?”

“I do.”

Kelce smiles. “That’s… shit, that makes sense.” There’s a wistfulness to his voice. “That’s why I couldn’t figure out what it reminds me of, this different him that’s chilled and happy.”

You furrow your brow. “Hm?”

“It’s freshman year him all over again,” he explains. “You know… when the two of you got close the first time ‘round.”

“Oh.” Your heart soars. “Square one, huh?”

Kelce shrugs, sharing a meaningful look with Brooklyn. “Square one I guess.”

You’re about to respond when Rafe’s figure pulls your gaze, his crossed arms and broad shoulders blocking the kitchen entrance. He’s wearing a handsome expression and his hair is perfectly unkempt, the heady scent of his cologne juxtaposing his lack of proximity.

Sometimes, life is unfair. Your ex-boyfriend, now new friend, eliciting such un-platonic thoughts is one of those instances.

And it isn’t as though you’ve given Rafe much of a break, his blue eyes caught on your figure like a moth to a flame. You aren’t wearing a dress he recognises, which is both a delightful and agonising revelation.

Delightful, because it reveals bare expanses of skin that make his wretched hands itch in longing. Agonising, because it’s a reminder of the seven long months that he’s had to spend grappling with your absence.

Having a smile as pretty as yours is extremely unfair, all things considered. And eyes. Soft skin. He needs to stop staring before he does something stupid.

“Perfect,” he announces brusquely, “are we hosting our intervention now?”

He looks at you expectantly. You raise your eyebrows. “You know,” he adds, “the one where we beg them to stay in the Banks?”

“Hey!” Brooklyn exclaims, her green eyes full of mirth. “What d’you mean stay in the Banks? Newsflash, I’m not even from here.”

“You’re not from Chicago either, Ast-Smithy,” he returns significantly, sending her a meaningful glance. “Besides, you married into a Figure Eight family. You are very officially one of us now.”

“Not for long!” Brooklyn sings, sending you a wink.

“C’mon, Smith,” Rafe tries, turning to Kelce and feigning disappointment. “What happened to our sacred pact?”

“We were eight, Cameron.”

“And already privy to the tragedy of small-town life,” Rafe sighs faux-dramatically, nodding in agreement. “I’m bitter, alright? I thought I’d be the first one to get out of here.”

He glances over at you fleetingly as he says this. We’d be the first ones, his heart corrects in vain.

“As if,” you scoff, raising your eyebrows. “Mr Cameron fucking Development leave this place before me? No chance.”

Rafe grins roguishly, his blue eyes shining with amusement. “You’re all talk, Y/L/N. We both know it.” He sends Kelce and Brooklyn a meaningful glance. “We all are.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going to be here all fucking night if we keep arguing about this,” Brooklyn decides, patting Kelce’s thigh to prompt him to stand. “C’mon, baby, we should probably get back to mingling.”

“You know,” she adds, narrowing her eyes playfully. “‘Cause it’s the last time we’ll see some of these people.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head bemusedly. Any retaliation on Rafe’s tongue fails at the timbre of it.

Once they’re out of sight, you turn to him, adopting a faux-somber look. “If we are truly doomed to a life in the Eight, will you promise me something?”

He’s still grappling with the fact that he’s a man starved of your beautiful laugh, now reborn. “Go on.”

“Should you find me yelling at Island Club employees about flower arrangements or charcuterie boards, shoot me.”

Rafe laughs, and it reverberates through your bones warmly. “And suffer alone? No way. I’ll meet you in the middle. Lobotomy?”

“No thoughts in my brain? So generous,” you tease. “Alright. It’s a deal.”

Rafe clinks his beer bottle against yours in confirmation, taking a generous pull of the bubbly liquid. “Can we trade promises?” He asks.

You take a sip in tandem, maintaining eye contact as you do so. There’s tension in the air, that familiar-new feeling manifest, and it’s no longer frightening, but rather a comforting embrace.

You marvel in it. Breaking free feels fruitless. “Yes.”

“If you make a plan to settle elsewhere, will you tell me?”

“Of course I will.” A pause. “Although, I think you’re right. I don’t think any of us are truly capable of leaving permanently.”

“If anyone is though, it’s you,” he says, so matter-of-factly, like he actually believes it. “I mean… you’re the only one who had the balls to go to a college out of state. The rest of us just accepted a cushy offer at UNC.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you dismiss. “I was back here so often I barely left.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “Only because you had a reason to come back.” You still do, if you’ll take me.

I still do, if you’ll take me. “True.” You frown, thinking on this for a moment. “Even so… I don’t know. Maybe it’s that hometown curse talking, but I wouldn’t want to raise my kids anywhere else in the States.”

Rafe’s gaze steadies, pulsing through you in waves. “I get that. We had a pretty sweet childhood, all things considered.”

You make a face. “Like, I don’t think I can deal with this iPad kid epidemic. Least we were sheltered from all that crap, you know?”

“Yeah,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows significantly. “Even if there were plenty of other things to jade us with.”

“Shit, I know,” you respond, laughing bemusedly. “See, only people from the Eight know how political beach clean ups can get.”

Rafe chuckles in tandem, taking another sip of his beer. “God, our lives are fucking ridiculous.”

You raise your bottle in agreement. A comfortable silence falls between you.

After pause, Rafe speaks up again. “You know,” he says quietly, an unnameable emotion flickering across his blue irises. “I don’t even think it’s everyone in the Eight.”

You balk. “Hm?”

“The whole, knowing each other thing,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You’ve always understood me better than anyone else.”

Your traitorous heart leaps, and you force yourself to ignore it. Actions have always spoken louder than words, and you decide now’s as good a time as any to confront him about this.

It’s time to be brave, you decide. You say, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Elle.”

Rafe’s miserable heart falters, penitence like a lump in his throat. He’s been preparing for this accusation since your very first reunion, but it still doesn’t feel like enough; he’s a coward trembling at the frontlines, anyway.

“I’ve… we’ve… my therapist and I have talked about that situation at length.”

You eyes widen in surprise. “Your therapist?”

“I’ve been going to therapy, yeah,” Rafe replies, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “For a month or so now, every week without fail.”

It isn’t lost on you that Brooklyn and Kelce’s wedding was a month ago. The rift in your ribcage widens.

“Has it been helping?” You ask.

“A bit,” Rafe admits. “Mostly just to validate what I knew all along, I guess.” At your silence, he continues, “That… shit, that I’ve got this problem where I push people away when I need them the most. The Elle thing, there’s no fucking excuse for it, none, but it became pretty obvious after you confronted me that she was just a rebound.”

“A rebound,” you echo.

“A distraction, an escape… I don’t know.” He rakes his fingers through his hair slovenly. “All I know is, I didn’t care about her, so I didn’t have to push her away. She didn’t make me talk about my dad, my grief, anything, so she was easy enough company to have around when I felt like it.”

“Oh.” You swallow. “But I did.”

“But you did,” Rafe affirms, grimacing sheepishly. “Shit, all you fucking did was care about me and all I did was push you away.”

You try to be pragmatic. “Grief makes people do shitty things.”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve it.”

“True.” A pause. Your gaze falls over Rafe’s face in paces, his haggard expression making you soften. “Listen. I’m glad you’re going to therapy, seriously. I know that’s a pretty big step for you to take.”

For you. “Thank you,” he replies quietly. “It… I just wish I’d listened to you the first time, you know? When you’d told me to go to therapy before I’d ended things.”

Your throat feels funny. “No use living in the past.”

“You’re right,” Rafe replies. A pause. The ghost of a smile flickers over his features. “What did I ever do to deserve your forgiveness?”

You smile in tandem, a little rueful. “Maybe you were a martyr in your past life, Cameron.”

“And you’re one in this one,” Rafe responds. “You know, after I lobotomise you over flower arrangements and charcuterie boards. Does that count as a full circle moment?”

You grin. “Not when you live on the Eight. Infinity sign, baby.”

It slips out before you can stop yourself, the ghost of pet-names past pushing Rafe’s pulse to fibrillation. Your eyes widen abashedly. “Should we rejoin the party?”

Rafe nods, “Probably,” and then, when you’re just out of earshot, “I’d do something stupid if we didn’t.”

—

Over the next few weeks, you begin to see more and more of one another.

A few texts back and forth become more than a few virtual trysts, and every spare moment you have is dedicated to being in each other’s presence.

And it isn’t as though you’re mending old love, this feels like something else altogether. Though old memories may flit through your brain on occasion, they are boundless and free — they don’t define this connection.

You’re starting anew. Rafe realises it too.

He still remembers how it felt to tell you he loved you the first time around, fourteen years old with a bashful smile and enough hope in his heart to ache. He still remembers what you were wearing the first time he drove you around; the first time you came to UNC to visit; the shade of lipgloss you worshipped from Sephora. And you remember it all too, the feeling of being in his pick-up, of being with this roguish, freshman boy that had so much charm your insides soared.

Going through it all again feels like receiving a new lease on life. How lucky are you to love a different person in the same man?

Currently, the pair of you are sprawled out on beach towels, velvet dusk revealing the bespangled sky stretching above you. Beside you, take-out boxes and sodas lie in the sand, discarded. Every now and then, his wrist brushes yours with a jolt of static.

You’re lying closer to each other than you should, his body heat pressing over you in paces. He’s pretty sure his clothes are going to smell like your soft-toned, vanilla perfume later, and he quietly delights in this.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You smile. “Shocker.”

He nudges your shoulder with his in faux-admonishment, turning his head toward you. It lingers; he’s closer. Your pulse feels boundless. “I’ve been thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ve realised something.”

You turn your head in tandem, his proximity making you balk. “What’s that, Cameron?”

“If we hadn’t broken up in the first place, I’d probably never have gone to therapy.”

A hush falls. “True.”

“And I’d never have worked through my emotional unavailability and all the problematic shit that comes with it.” He pauses, a heavy emotion making his blue eyes somber. “We’d have stayed together, but I’d never have become the man that you deserve.”

You swallow. “Is that what you are now?” You murmur, your voice unsure. “The man I deserve?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers quietly. “Don’t think I ever will be. But… but I’m working on it, properly this time. And getting to know you again, for real, has made me realise just how worth it this is.”

It’s too much. You make to turn away but Rafe’s hand stops you, gentle but firm on your face. His thumb swipes over your warm cheek in comforting circles, and you find yourself leaning into his touch inadvertently.

Uh oh, you’re falling in love. You sigh. “It feels inevitable, huh?”

“D’you believe in soulmates, Y/N?”

Your lashes flutter shut in response. Rafe inches closer still, his hand slipping down to your jaw, and when he kisses you, old embers create a new flame within your heart. It’s chaste, unsure, a second first kiss. And yet, though it’s soft, the press of his lips is a ravaging embrace.

“Do you, Rafe?��� You return, opening your eyes tentatively.

His gaze is still trained on your pretty mouth, less iris than pupil as his yearning transcends everything else. He presses his thumb on your lower lip gently. “Only if it’s you.”

“I think I am,” you murmur.

Rafe smiles. Oh no, he’s falling in love again. “I think you are too.”

—

I thought the plane was going down / How’d you turn it right around?

[maudeeloise]

Do you think you could do a Jacaerys x reader where they are childhood enemies but get betrothed and when things are going well in their marriage Jace misinterprets a moment with reader and someone else and accuses the reader to be pregnant with a bastard until it’s born looking exactly like him and he must reconcile and win reader back.

Sworn Enemies || j.v

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning : none

You weren’t surprised. When your mother mentioned it and your sister ran into your room to check on you a few moments after your talked with your mother.

You were a noble and you had known since the very first that you would be bethrothed with another noble. Unfortunately, your family was being too close to the Targaryens that the first person they chose for you to marry was the last person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

The marriage was rocky and was filled with arguments — even about the smallest things. Your marriage was built by loath instead of love. You couldn’t stand his arrogance and he couldn’t stand your stubborness. Your hatred towards each other was so deep in your blood that it became the reason you ended up with his child.

Just like any other night, there you stood in different sides of your shared chambers. The bed seperating you as you had argued since the past hour.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Jace’s voice roared, filling the room with his anger.

“How dare you accuse me of something I didn’t do?!” You matched his tone, firm and loud.

“I am not accusing you of anything!” His jaw clenched slightly. “That baby is a bastard and you know I’m right.”

You bit back your tongue once you processed his words. He called your son a bastard. He called his own son a bastard.

“You are insane.” You spat through gritted teeth. “You have no proof on what you believe in, however I do and you’re too terrified that I might be right.”

“Nonsense!” He shook his head. “I’m not terrified of anything because I know I’m right.”

“Then take a look at your own son!” You pointed at the crib which was placed beside your side of the bed. “You have refused to even take a peak of him since he was born. Do you despise him that much?”

“He is not my son!” His voice boomed through the room.

A sudden cry broke from the baby, stealing both your attentions. You rushed towards the crib and took the baby gently before rocking him in your arms. Whispers of sweet nothings followed by a humming of the first song which came to your mind, eventually died down the cries. It only took a while before the baby went back to his slumber.

Disgust written on Jace’s face as he watched the two of you. “We need to get rid of him as soon as possible.”

Your face fell in surprise at his suggestion. There was a long moment of a pause before you moved to place the baby back on his crib. A long sigh left your lips in disbelief.

You were tired of convincing him. If you had to be honest, it hurt you every time. You wouldn’t care if he was mocking you nor he was treating you as if you had betrayed his family, but it was his son he was hating. His own flesh and blood he planned to banish.

“Are you really that insisting?” Your voice broke. Your heart aching. But you forced yourself to keep a fierce look on your face and your posture straight.

Jace let out a scoff. “You were the one who betrayed this marriage.”

“I would never!” Your voice heightened, but it wasn’t anger. You were exhausted. “I may despise you with every inch of my body, but I would never do such. I love my family and I would do anything to keep our names clean, so don’t you ever start a rumor just because you got tired of me.”

“Got tired of you?” Jace taunted. “I had wished for your death since forever, but I have never started such rumours.”

“Then whoever did!” Your chest moved up and down. Your eyes were filled with desperation, silently pleading for him to believe you. “You may hate me for the rest of your life, but that is your son, Jacaerys! Just for this once, I am asking you to second your beliefs.”

“He is not my son!”

“Take a look for yourself!”

That was the last thing you said before you exit the room. It was starting to become too much for you. Your chest hurt from holding back tears. You didn’t want to seem weak in front of him, or else he would’ve thought he won the argument.

Once you found yourself in the middle of the empty hallway, you broke down. A hand covering your mouth to silent the cries as you fell down to your knees.

On the other side of the door, stood a hesitant Jacaerys. If he had to be honest, a part of him wanted to believe you, but he had to big of an ego and a habit of always wanting to be better than you, so he was persistance of his opinion.

His eyes stared at the crib for a long minute. He was arguing with his mind whether he should just leave the room or do as you ask. His hands were fisting the material of his coat.

“Fuck this.” He said before walking up towards the crib.

His angry expression was soon replaced by a soft one once his eyes caught a glimpse of the baby. His mouth fell open slightly. The baby was a carbon copy of him — brunette hair, brown eyes, his nose, his lips. Shame masked his face the longer he looked at the baby.

He stumbled back in surprise. His hands were holding at the crib to steady himself. Guilt rushed through him like a wave of tsunami. You weren’t lying. The baby was his heir, his firstborn, his own flesh and blood.

[sunny44]

I promised you

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fiancée!reader

Warnings: mentions of Charles father, google translated French

Summary: Charles and Y/n have known each other since they were kids, the relationship grows and they’re about to get married. The wedding day is already very emotional but Charles does something to makes everything way better.

The part in italics is the flashback.

Married.

That’s what is was getting today.

Charles and I have known each other all our lives, we have been best friends since we were kids.

We have been dating since forever, had all our first times with each other, and I believe we are soul mates.

I remember the first time we met and also the first time he said we would get married. We were 7 years old at the time and he was playing with his Ferraris cars while I was organizing my bracelets in a little box that I had gotten from his mother.

"Charles, give me back." I kept trying to get the bracelet but every time I got close he took it off. "Charlie."

"I'm not giving it back."

"It's my favorite bracelet, you'll ruin it."

"I'm only giving it back to you when we get married."

"That will take a long time, we're small yet."

"Then when we get bigger we'll get married and then I'll give you the bracelet back." I huffed giving up taking it and sat back down on the fluffy carpet in the living room.

"You look so beautiful." My mother says behind me fixing my veil.

"Thank you mom."

In the room where I was getting ready was my mom, Charles' mom, Lily, Lorenzo's girlfriend Charlotte, Arthur's girlfriend Carla, and Elena.

"You had already looked beautiful when we went to pick the dress but you look perfect now" Charlotte says and smiles at them.

"Do you guys really think it looks good?”

"Of course, you are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. You look like came straight out of a bridal magazine." Lily holds my hand and smiles.

"It will all work out, you are perfect for each other."

I start to get nervous and tears start to come out of my eyes and the anxiety starts to make me breathless.

"Honey, breathe."

"Can I talk to him? Please." My mother agrees and they all leave the room leaving me alone.

"Babe." I hear his voice from the door.

"Hi."

"Are you okay, your mom said you wanted to talk to me."

"I'm getting nervous and out of breath." He opens a crack in the door and puts his hand inside.

"Hold my hand." He says and at the same time I take his hand intertwining our fingers. "Now take a deep breath."

I started to take a deep breath and dried up tears with a handkerchief.

"It will be okay, in a little while you will walk down the aisle and I will be there waiting for you and crying from seeing how beautiful you will look." I laughed at his line. "I love you and nothing is going to change that so just take a deep breath and I promise I will be there waiting for you, I’m not going anywhere."

We stood there for about 10 more minutes until he had to go because the time was coming, I heard a knock on the door and allowed the entrance watching Pescale enter.

"Your father is already waiting so I won't take up too much of your time, not least because I am anxious for you to marry my baby boy." I laughed at her anxiety and she took my hands. "I know it's your wedding but I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure."

"When Harvé and I got married I gave him this gold watch and I wanted to ask you to take it down the aisle with you and give it to Charles, we both know how much he wanted his father to be here to see this and I wanted him to have a part of his father along with him." And once again I was crying. "I dear don’t cry, you'll ruin your makeup.”

"I will, I will." I smiled and she dried my tears.

"Thank you, dear. And thank you for taking such good care of him."

"Thank you for making him." She laughs.

"Ready?" my father appears in the doorway and I agree. "You look so beautiful."

"Thanks dad."

...

We were positioned waiting for the door to open, I was with my arm intertwined with my father's when the music started to play, Charlie didn't know but I had chosen AUS23 to play while I enter and I could see his surprised face with the music but soon his look of or on me and I could see the most beautiful smile I’ve e er seen in my life.

Everyone was standing as I walked over to him, when we got there my father shook his hand and whispered something before handing me over to Charles.

"You look beautiful." He says and I smile.

"You look beautiful too." I hold his hand and hand the watch to Charles who instantly recognized it and looked at his mother who smiled. "I know you really wish he was here because I feel the same way, but I know he is taking care of us and that he is happy."

“I'm sure of it."

And then the priest starts with the usual speech.

"I Charles Marc Harvé Perceval Leclerc take you, Y/n Y/l/n as my lawful wife. To love and respect you, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty until death do us part."

“I Y/n Y/l/n take you, Charles Marc Harvé Perceval Leclerc as my lawful wedded husband. To love and respect you, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty till death do us part."

"I pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride." At this he holds my face kissing me and I could hear the shouts of celebration from everyone making me smile in the middle of the kiss.

"I have something to give you." He says as soon as he separates but with his forehead still glued to mine. "Here."

He pulls something from his wrist and I see that same bracelet he stole from me years ago.

"Charlie."

"I said I'd give it back when we got married and I keep my promises." I smiled through tears as he taped it to my wrist. “And when I said to you that I’m not going anywhere I mean it. You are the love of my life and I love you with all my heart.

“I love you more Charlie and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life by your side.” He smiles taking my hand next and we walked to the exit of the church to finally start ours lives together.

Bonus scene!

Y/nleclerc instagram post

Liked by @charlesleclerc and other 1938292

@y/nleclerc and here are some of my favorite pictures of the best day of my life, I still can’t believe it that your my husband and that were going to spend the last of our lives together.

I can’t wait to start our family and to grow old with you, you are the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m thankful everyday for you.

Je t'aime pour toujours Charlie (I love you forever Charlie).

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, my insane theory that I was waiting for the episode to see if I'm right or not. This is a lot more from the business side of things than something actually plot-related. But the thing is, about a year ago, at some point during the s6-7 hiatus, I made a post about how I thought the show had written themselves into a corner when it comes to buddie basically because the stakes are too high (the post is here but please keep in mind I wrote this before Buck bi and thinking about the way fox dealt with them, and we have since found out something was supposed to happen in s4 and they were censored by fox and we are not dealing with that anymore, I will explain my thought process here tho). But basically, I thought that they were not gonna do buddie because the expectations around buddie were too high, and it was easier to play with their tension forever than getting them together.

Because the thing is, we are talking about a six plus seasons queer slowburn that already has a lot in canon, between Chris, the well, the shooting, the lightning, the fact that they are best friend partners, there's a lot at stake and the correct lead up can make it seem as if buddie has been planned when watching the whole show. And since buddie is already insane, buddie in a romantic setting would have to exceed expectations. There's also the way that since Buck and Eddie work together and are partners on the field, they would have to acknowledge buddie every episode they were both in, something that is not true for madney or bathena, so that means that at some level they would have to be okay with the show being known as the buddie show at some level. The way that buddie has the potential to be the first relationship of its kind, a queer multiseason network slowburn, means that there will be people who will watch the show because of buddie. I know I joke about how buddie will make 911 go down in television history, but it is true, buddie will be placed next to big television love stories, people will teach classes on buddie in film school, so they need to be okay with that focus on the relationship existing and potentially being the thing people talk about when thinking about the show. With season 6 knowledge, I thought that at best they would have buddie kiss in the last 10 minutes of the series finale just to say they did it because I did not believe that they would want to be forced to write buddie into every episode and deal with the external focus on them. Now, knowing that fox blocked Buck bi and with the way they didn't even let Oliver and Ryan stand next to each other, I believe fox was never gonna let buddie be what they could be.

We have different rules now. My thing there is the way that they would have to deal with the external focus on them and to acknowledge buddie every episode, right? Well, they set Oliver and Ryan lose last season, including paired, and they let them say all sorts of things, the I love you to the core, buddie wedding season 10, giving the people what they want, there's no competition for Eddie, Buck fills the space Shannon was support to have, every interview Oliver, Ryan or Tim do mentions buddie, so they clearly don't care if people discover the show through buddie, they seem to be leaning into it even. For example, the first video we got for s8 was a ryliver video. So that part is covered, they are fine with it. So that leaves us with the acknowledging buddie every episode. They are doing that. I think everyone knows I'm doing the buddie supercuts by now (if not you can find the ones that are done here), but I wrote a meta about this, something that happened in s7 that was not true in the previous seasons is the fact that buddie has at least one moment every single episode, 1 we had the whole partnership/co-parent thing, 2 we had the thing at the locker room, 3 we had them finishing each other sentences while moving around each other during the rescue, 4 and 5 I don't even need to say it, right, 6 we had the bachelor party, 7 we had the Buckley-Diaz family scene, 9 we had the kitchen scene, and 10 had all that partnership/co-parent thing again. So s7 proved that they don't care about writing buddie into every episode. 801 has a lot of buddie, my cut of the episode amounted to 11 minutes and 33 seconds, that's 27% of the episode, the only episode they have more than that is under pressure, which is saying something. 802 we also had some buddie squeezed in there even though the episode was about the plane. That was an Athena episode, but we still got buddie. So my whole thing with the post I made this morning was about the concept of them adding a buddie scene even though they started the episode physically separated. And Well, I'm gonna count this as my buddie shoutout. They were together on the plane, and we got that little look at the end.

I think, like Tim said in the interviews for s7, that they are trying to work a little buddie every episode because it is a core part of the show, and that is a way to get the audience used to having at least a little buddie every episode. And I think that's the biggest sign that something has shifted and buddie is cooking.

Anyway, yeah, that's the theory. If you read this I love you 🫶.

[bitchlessdino]

okok i'm here for a request

wonwoo as your coworker who you've been having an office romance with - which you have been taking as a joke. everyone thinks you'll get together, and you play along with that. but wonwoo is very serious.

so late night booty call from coworker!wonwoo? or maybe drunk dial to wonwoo and the aftermath the next day (fucking in the office)

Pairing: wonwoo x afab!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 3.9k

tags: office au, feturin bartender!chan and coworker!mingyu, mentions of alcohol, exhibitionism, manhandling, unprotected sex, creampie, pet name

author note: hi bee ily bee, you're messed up for this bee. but im worse for producing it gdjgwkjg. anyways enjoy wonu rot

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro

Wonwoo is a handsome guy and it was clear as day to everyone in the office. You like having a bit of his attention. He’s funny and quite friendly with you, but that is perhaps because the first time you met you had the courage to fight with him over the last jam-filled donut in the break room. Since then, there’s never not been a reason to talk as if you’ve known each other forever.

You admit some of the socializing you’ve been having with Wonwoo is more than what you do with any other coworker, let alone friend, but you were just playing along and it was too late to go back. Besides, both of you know what this is. All this talk was simply harmless flirting, playful jokes, and lively banter. You make it clear at the end of it all that there is nothing between you and Wonwoo, that things are as platonic as two subordinates can get.

You can’t say the rest of the office believes that though, seeing as so many of them with jealous glares in your direction or the nudges from the suspecting coworkers that ‘lowkey ship’ you two together as if you were some characters in television. 

“Ugh, you two make me sick. Just get together and have beautiful children already.”

You and Wonwoo shared a harmonious chuckle together, one louder in humor and it wasn’t the man dashing in a silk silver necktie.

“I wish I could, but they like to sleep on the left side even though I also sleep on the left side and I don't know how that would work,” Wonwoo knocks against your shoulder

“Not to mention he likes cats way more than dogs and the fact that we could never really be together because we’re just good coworkers.”

“Right,” he lightly punches, indicating agreement. “It’d be a really bad idea if we were actually together.”

You raise your brows, almost offended. “Woah, woah. I never said it was really bad.”

“But you were thinking about it.”

“Lover quarrel I hear?” Mingyu butts in after getting his morning joe. “They’re always at it at this time of day.”

You roll your eyes at the giant. “All I’m saying is. I and Wonwoo are good together at work. Just work. Dare I say he’s a good work husband, even if he steals the last of the pastries—“

“Will you ever let that go—“

“No—and that’s all there is everyone. Sorry to disappoint.”

The crowd gives their share of snide smirks before dispersing. Mingyu is the last to stay behind, a Cheshire smile on his face. “Sure, you two. Just keep your hands to yourself around here…if you can help it.”

You were about to throw a light kick at the man before he started scurrying off, leaving you and Wonwoo in your lonesome as always. 

“They mean no harm by the way,” Wonwoo points out, “but if it bothers you that much, I can tell them to lay off.”

“Nu-uh,” you reply, shaking your head, “and make me look like a buzzkill? I don’t mind the back and forth. Just don’t anyone get the wrong idea that our jokes are actually serious?”

“Yeah, because it’d be just awful to be caught dating someone like me.”

You groan at his choice of words. “That is not what I said. Stop putting words in my mouth. This is why we wouldn’t work together.”

Wonwoo shrugs, a smile on his face that truly does brighten up a whole room. God, no wonder people think you’re dating him. What single man smiles like that? “Alright, sweet face. Fine. Who cares what they think? We know left from right, okay?” There’s a hint in his tone that says otherwise but you decide to ignore it.

“Okay, good. Anyways, what are your plans tonight? Up for another night of Valo queue?”

“I actually have plans tonight.”

“Oh?” You say wiggling your eyebrows. “Hot date?”

“Maybe? Haven’t met them yet.”

You’re playful expression fades. “Oh, actually? Wow. You must be…excited.”

He shrugs, freshening up his mug. “It’s nice to have plans outside of binge-watching TV at home, so a little bit.”

Your smile can’t seem to reach your ears until you’ve found a way to find the humor out of it. “That sounds nice. I wanna be set up—Wonwoo don’t you have any hot friends?”

Wonwoo feigns thought, clicking his tongue, now noticing the watch on his wrist. “Well, would you look at the time? Back to work.”

You sneer at him leaving you unanswered, following after him to continue the rest of your day. This is how most days went. Outside of work, you shared your personal interests with him, such as video games—perhaps adding to the assumption that you both seem very couple forward—but otherwise, that was all. There was nothing else that made you more than people who work in close proximity together, and not by your own fault either.

Despite this dynamic, Wonwoo is a private person and you only know what he lets you know. Perhaps, that’s why you are so dead set on keeping the formality the way it is. Who knows the type of person he is behind doors?

You try not to be curious about him for the sake of your circumstance, but the thought of Wonwoo and his date stays in the back of your mind, pestering you like an insect well into the afternoon until after work. That’s when you decide to hit up the local bar, grab a drink—or 5–and catch up with your favorite bartender, Chan, to see what he’s up to. He’s normally a good distraction, seeing as he can talk circles around any subject while jumping from one to the other, and you think it starts to make you forget why ever you came in the first place.

However, ‘drunk you’ does whatever the fuck they want, even if ‘sober you’ says otherwise. You seem to forget that every time you go out, perhaps because you think you’ve overcome that part of you after a while of not drinking. Truth was you haven’t.

“Hellooo…”

The dial tone plays on the other end and you continue your incessant greeting until you’re met with a familiar and confused sound. You automatically grin, clutching the device close to your ear in hopes of hearing his voice again.

“Wonwoo…are you and you having fun…”

You hear shuffling in the background, unaware it was Wonwoo checking caller ID to make sure it was you. “Are you doing okay?”

“Me? I’m great…how are you bud? Buddy? Companion? Bestie?”

“Okay. Where are you right now?”

You chortle, glancing back at Chan who is preoccupied with other customers but watching you from the corner of his eye concerned. “Hehe, I’m with a friend. A very handsome friend…”

Chan lets out a light chuckle before finishing up the drink and handing it to the person waiting. He strolls out to you, listening in on the rest of your call as he pretends to clean up glasses.

“Handsome friend?” Wonwoo repeats.

“Very handsome.”

You aren’t sure what’s going on with you, but you feel the urge to simply narrate everything around you, making sure the man on the other line hears every word. 

“Is there a reason you’re calling me, Y/n?”

You hum against the phone in pondering. “Just…because. It’s you.”

“Me?”

“You.”

Chan lightly scoffs at the scene, almost seeing the pink in your eyes as you speak to whoever is on the other end and politely asks for your phone. You pout at him, denying him the device, but with a stern look, you melt into mush and soon obliged.

“Hi, you must be Y/n’s friend right? They’re at the Carat Club right now and it looks like they’ve had enough to drink.”

Wonwoo hums into the phone before responding back cautiously. “Are you the handsome friend?”

Chan grins hearing the hint of jealousy. “Why yes, I am.”

“You don’t sound that handsome.”

“Well, you can judge for yourself because I’m also the bartender here. If you aren’t too busy, I’d really appreciate you getting them home. I’ll keep an eye on them but I can only do that for so long with the rush we’re having.”

There’s a moment of silence on the phone that makes the young bartender think the calls have dropped until the gravelly voice on the other end begrudgingly agrees, quickly hanging up right after. 

Chan sets the phone back to your side, doing what he’s promised to do. After some time, he recognizes Wonwoo right away by his frantic arrival and the bartender waves him over. Wonwoo scans your current state with a frown creasing his eyes. He tries shaking your sides, and see how little effect it makes.

“How much have they had to drink?”

“A couple of cocktails but by how early they’ve gotten here I assume they haven’t eaten. Best to take them home before it goes right through them.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo, picks you up by your limp arms and supports your side in the direction of the door. When he’s out of sight, he quietly curses to himself about the accuracy of the bartender’s appearance before settling you in his passenger seat.

His goal is to get you rested and safe. Seeing as your driver's license is doctored from the city several hours from where they are, he assumes it is in need of an update, and tries to pry your address out of you. To no avail, nothing useful comes out from your drunk slurred lips and he ends up taking you to his home, dumping you on his bed, and tucking you in. 

You don’t remember anything after the third drink: making that call to Wonwoo, or the debacle of trying to get you home, or his persistence in climbing up the flight of stairs in his own home with the extra body weight. You can only assume the worst when you wake up the following day in a foreign bedroom; your internal alarm was clock accurate as always. You jump from the sheets in pure fear, scanning your surroundings for an owner, when you realize you still have the clothes you wore to work the day before.

Promptly, Wonwoo walks towards the bedroom you occupy from the wide open door and greet you, a smile on his face. “Good, you’re up. Work is in an hour, I’ll get you there.” “Wonwoo, where am I?”

“My place. I would’ve taken you home if you had been more cooperative.”

It takes your eyes some adjusting but you soon realize the lack of clothing on his body, warranting the smooth, broad, and muscular appearance of a Jeon Wonwoo you wouldn’t dare dream of. You gulp at the sight taking it in before hearing him chuckle as he crosses his arms to obscure the view, forcing your eyes on his face that was bare of the thick pair of metal frames you are used to. Instead, you see his eyes, overflowing with warmth you worry you’d stumble upon seeing them. “Extra bathroom at the other end of the hall. I can lend you a shirt.”

“T-thanks.” You say before he disappears in order to get ready for another day.

You quickly finish what needed to be done, taking advantage of the oversized shirt Wonwoo left you behind and somehow making it work. Soon enough you’re off to the office, in his passenger, only time sober and a lot more self-conscious.

“Did I do or say anything weird?”

He lets out a deep, familiar chuckle. “Depends. What’s your definition of weird?”

You try thinking of an answer but none would come up, having you change your mind about getting his prompt response.

“If it’s any consolation, you didn’t get sick like I thought you would, and you were mostly asleep.”

“That just means I was a mess,” You whine.

“Perhaps, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Wait, what about your date? Don’t tell me you—“

“She canceled and I had nothing going on. You called at a good time.”

“I called you?” You question him in bemusement.

“Like I said, nothing I couldn’t handle.”

His repeating that phrase does something the chemical in your brain, retracing the dents of his torso as if they’re right in front you, glistening against the sun rays peaking out of the windows. The smile on his face makes your heart pound a little harder than you’re used to, and now you’re noticing the veins on his hands as he grips the wheel.

You feel yourself swallow. Hand to heart, you pat down as if trying to manually regulate it, but ultimately fail as Wonwoo continues to speak. This must be the embarrassment talking.

“For a second, I thought you called me to confess your undying love for me or something.”

“What?” You ask laughing a little too hard, for once grasping the humor in the situation with difficulty. “Why would you think that?” 

“For one, you were drunk. It seemed likely.” He clears his throat, trying to focus on the road. “And maybe that’s what I wanted to hear.”

Those words settle into you like hot cement, frustratingly slow, and before you finally answer, you’re already back at work, following Wonwoo as you leave the car. When both obviously arrive together, the usual attention has multiplied by tenfold, and the treatment feels different than normal. More flustering a suffocating after the night you’ve had. Wonwoo is the only one to notice as he calmly escorts you to your cubicles, leaving the questions of your coworkers unanswered.

You aren't sure why they’re comments are getting you like this now, making you feel hot, hands clasped against your cheeks like a bashful child, but it bothers you throughout the day, forcing you to keep mostly to yourself. Its then Wonwoo, sends you a note, meeting him for lunch alone knowingly while everyone else planned a meal out. You hesitantly oblige to his request and when the time came around, it’s unexpectantly timid, awkward, and nerve-wracking. That’s not how monets with Wonwoo are supposed to go.

“You’ve been quiet.”

You bow you head. “Sorry.”

“Why are you being sorry?”

“I didn’t think I was bothering anyone.”

You don’t see it, but he rolls his eyes.“Well, you were bothering me. Talk to me, joke around with me, be mean to me I don’t know. The silence is annoying me.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Apologizing again? Look at me.”

It was difficult given the predicament you’re in, but he forces you to anyways by lifting up your chin between his fingers. You watch a dark storm brew in his eyes and now you can’t bare to tear away.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

You don’t get it. For the past year, you’ve known him, there's only ever been amicable looks or gregarious smiles at a maximum, but in the deep pit of your stomach bubbles a new sensation that has finally festered enough to rise to the surface. You clench your legs in instinct, eyes fluttering back at him as you let each breath take a slow turn.

Intuitive as always, Wonwoo sees that shift in your eyes. It’s disturbing, daunting, and tempting all at once and he decides he can’t take it anymore.

With the break room wall behind you, he pushes you against it, claiming your lips and body until there is no way of escaping. His lips are soft against yours, but moves languidly and impatient, and the grip of his hands on your hips drains the energy out of your lower body. You attempt to chase his vigor, hands against your neck as you suppress your moans at how he kneads your flesh through your slacks only to press your thigh to his side.

“So I’m what’s wrong?” He asks in a low rasp against your lips.

You naturally hold him by the back of his neck, his nose nuzzling against yours. Wonwoo feels your lips part to speak, but he is in a daze by how soft they felt only seconds ago. “You are far from what’s wrong,” you finally answer.

Ridding of inhibitions and doubt, Wonwoo opens the storage closet behind you and shoves you in to lock you both inside. His hands run up your body needily, desperate to taste the skin underneath the shirt you’ve borrowed. You help him undress the same way he does to you, and your pristine pressed Van Hausens fall near your feet like rubble.

His lips then fall underneath your chin, trailing your neck, he refrains from leaving too much pressure but is almost swayed by your natural scent mixed in with his shampoo. He roughly plants you against a mostly empty shelf, the ice cold metal somehow burning your skin. He helps you tug off your slacks finding that sopping cunt that’s been dying to have him discover them since this morning.

“For me? Just for me?” He wastes no time shoving his hand down the frail fabric of your underwear and gliding his thick digits over your wet slit. “I don’t know if I can keep my hands to myself this time.”

Your voice reveals itself, saying his name in a way you wouldn’t dare let another person hear as long as you lived. He repeats the action, watching you crumble in front of him like award-winning cinema.

“I never heard you speak like that to me. I could get used to it.” He find your ear, his cat-like smile forming before his lips closes around your skin and his whispers cause the ripples of chills down your spine. “Say my name like that again for me, darling.”

You tremble under his touch, feeling his fingers dip into your heat enticingly. “Won…wooo…”

He lets out a soft and gentle moan, and the heat of his breath fans your pebbled skin. “Such a pretty little thing. I’ve dreamt how you’d be like this for me so often.”

“You…have?”

He presses a lingering kiss on your neck. “More than I can be proud of.” He curls his digits before taking light jerks, his thumb rubbing your arousal around the circumference of your clit. He drinks in your pretty pants, teeth grazing back at your skin. “You like me touching you? Aren’t I being such a good work husband?”

Your eyes screw shit, mouth etching open to give him a well-deserved praise, “So goo—“

“Where are my keys,” a voice breaks outside the door.

Wonwoo seizes his fingers from you and clamps them over your mouth, your arousal basically coating your lips and his eyes staring back at you intently.

“Where did they go anyway?”

Wonwoo shushes you with pursed lips. “Better be quiet.” His tone is stern but his actions say otherwise as his zipper comes down in a fraction of a second. “It’s in our best interest not to get caught, right?”

His name muffles under his palm, squeezing the life out of your cheeks as he exposes the bulging cock that’s been fighting away at him since he kissed you. Your eyes dart in their direction, beading perspiration across your forehead, and you feel yourself clench around nothing as his cock draws closer to your fluttering heat.

Your eyes double their size and then shrink to half the size once he’s inside you. His raw, long heat pushes into your core inch by inch, and you feel the necessary evil to bite down his palm. If Wonwoo was bothered by it, he doesn’t show it as he claims you with deep strokes, having your hands rest against his firm pectorals in reluctant trust. His low grunts can only be heard by you and the slight fog in his glasses is apparent the closer he thrust into you, even in the dim closet lighting,

Outside these walls still is a confused Mingyu, not foreseeing the event occurring behind a door mere feet away. “Maybe, they went somewhere else for lunch.”

You audibly squeak within the tight space and Wonwoo shushes you again, knocking back into with a curt but harsh slam before forcing your walls to hold his cock inside you like a natural plug. “You’re gonna get us in trouble, darling. I’m not done with you yet.” An accumulated thrill runs through your veins at the thought of being caught, taking every thrust with pressure and liquifying at the devious smile on your rumored boyfriend’s face. 

“No they’re not here,” the intruder says to a voice unheard from their distance. “…Coming!”

His footsteps noticeably scan the perimeter once last time before they retreated further and further away.

“Finally,” Wonwoo breathes out, “now I have you all to myself.” Although he states that, he doesn’t let go of your mouth, in fact, you swear his hand is getting tighter and now his face closer, finally processing the spearmint on his breath “We should still be careful. Can you be quiet for me?”

You quietly nodded, grasping at his body desperately, gesturing for him to keep going.

He scoffs. “My darling being impatient?” He pulls out almost his entire length before shoving back into you, earning a feeble tremble. “My. Cock. Making. You. Needy. Hm?”

You nod back at him, holding back your tears, nails digging into his shoulder blades.

“Eyes on me, darling. Your work husband is need of your attention while I fuck you senseless.”

Shallow breaths escape your nostrils, finally meeting his eyes, which seemed to have lost the thick barrier of his glasses somehow already set on the shelf behind him. “Would you like for me to cum in you?”

You gingerly nod.

“Will you listen to everything I say when I let go of your mouth?”

Like a glitch, you nod the same exact way.

“Such a good little darling.”

His cock fills you up as naturally as breathing does. While his lips are home against yours, tongue entangling to the point it becomes sex itself. Your hushed moans are music to his ears and bear motive as his cock plunges deeper and harder inside you. He doesn’t mind how you bit his lips, nor how your nails drag against his back, rather he revels in it, doubling over you to push his cock inside you deeper until you're unable to contain your screams and he’s forced to silence you again.

You whisper how you’re close and it’s a natural drug, encouraging him to only ram inside you and claim the sweet sound of your orgasm coating decadently around his cock. He handles it rather gentlemanly, fairly as his cock is next to ripple in climax, shooting his thick over churned honey until it fills your heat until the point of fully occupancy. His arms come around you in a firm grasp, bruising your lips until you’re imprinted with the memory of him. 

You let out light pants, awkwardly thanking his promptly done tasks before you’re whisked away again by his perfect, salvia-sheened lips. “That was very…superb.”

Strange adjective but it’s done the job, you think.

“I’m glad you think so,” he chuckles in a way that tells you things are far from over and you’re proven correct when he brings up your legs, thighs crushing his cheeks that splays the most impish smile. “But we still have 15 minutes of our lunch and a man’s gotta eat.”

Part of my 3K Follower StayCation!!!

[vioartemis]

Mrs Ortega

(Jenna Ortega x fem! reader)

Summary: Wednesday made Jenna famous, and put in danger your relationship Warnings: angst :)) (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

You had known Jenna since forever, as you were neighbors back in the days. Naturally you became friends, and eventually started dating in 2020. You spent most of the pandemic together, as no one could really work at the time, and after that you tried to accompany her as much as possible on her shootings.

She had tried to convince you not to, aware that it was a huge sacrifice you were making for her, but you didn’t listen. You took online classes while she was working, and when she came back, you would spend the night together.

Your girlfriend had been busy with the shooting of Wednesday for the past few months. You had traveled to Romania with her and befriended her castmates.

The series was about to have its premiere, and Jenna wanted you to accompany her to the event. And of course you said yes, because how could you deny her?

“How do I look?” she asked, stepping out of the bathroom

“Stunning, as always” you replied with a bright smile, looking her up and down

You took her hands in yours, pulling her a bit closer, and pressing your lips on hers in a tender kiss.

“You rock that look Jen, seriously” you smiled “The black dress and veil… everything is perfect”

“Yeah? Well I hope one day I will wear it in white with you waiting for me down the aisle” she said with a little smirk

You felt your cheeks burn at the thought.

“A-are you talking about… getting married?”

She nodded with a smile.

“I know you’re the one, Y/n. You’re my soulmate, I’m sure of that. Don’t you want to become Mrs Ortega?”

“Y-yeah I-I mean- of course! I’d love to marry you” you kissed her softly “I just wasn’t expecting you to talk about that right now”

“So it’s a yes?”

“Of course it is”

The series had been released a month ago, and it was a success. Wednesday’s popularity was worldwide, and so was Jenna’s. She wasn’t unknown before that, but now she really was famous.

You were happy for her, seeing her career take a new turn like that, but you had to admit she was acting weird lately. You tried to talk about it, but every time she assured you she was fine. You ended up thinking she was just getting used to be super popular.

Jenna had finished her day and you were waiting for her, swimming in the hotel’s pool. She texted you a few minutes ago, telling you she would be here soon but that her agent wanted to talk to her first.

You wondered what her agent could be telling her, imagining different scenarios, before your attention was caught by footsteps coming towards you.

You swam in her direction, a big smile on your face, as she sat on the edge of the pool, legs in the water. You put your hands on the ground, ‘trapping’ her between your arms, and lifted yourself up to kiss her lips.

She kissed back, but you could feel something was off.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, back in the water

Jenna wasn’t looking at you, but you could see on her face that she was not okay.

“Jen, you can talk to me… I’m here, I’ll always-”

“Y/n.” she cut you off “I- I’m sorry I… We can’t continue…”

“What…?” you frowned, completely lost

She took a deep breath.

“My agent… He told me that being with a… a ‘nobody’ wasn’t good for my career, now that I start to be more famous…”

You couldn’t believe your ears. The words were stuck in your throat; it took you a minute to be able to say something.

“Are you serious…? Y-you’re ready to throw everything away because your agent told you it wasn’t good for you career?”

“Y/n-”

“But nobody cares who you’re in a relationship with…!” your voice broke as you tried to hold back a cry “Jenna please… Y-you can’t do that… I- you’re everything to me, I can’t lose you… I-if it’s really a problem w-we can see each other in secret or… or…”

Your eyes were filled with tears, and it was taking you all your strength not to break down in front of her.

“W-we can’t, the paparazzi would find out eventually… I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would end this way… I- I love you so much… But I have to…”

You could hear that she didn’t want to do it either.

“Jen please… There has to be another way… I… We were talking about getting married and… and now we would just stop like that…? No, please… I-I’ll do anything…”

She finally looked at you. You saw the tears in her eyes, the look on her face, the way her bottom lip shivered. You knew nothing you would say would change anything.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered

The ache in your throat only grew stronger, preventing you from speaking.

Jenna stood up, and gave you one last look before walking away, leaving you alone in the pool with your broken heart, tears flooding down your cheeks.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

A few months had passed since the forced breakup, and you were still not doing okay. You felt empty, as if a part of you left with her that day.

And the pain… The pain never left. Sometimes it was so high you felt like you would throw up on the spot. Seeing her happy during interviews or events, or even on TikTok or Pinterest felt like a stab to the heart.

You honestly didn’t know how you were going to live without her. She was the love of your life, your soulmate…

Sometimes you wished she never became famous. Then you felt guilty for thinking about that. But again, if she never became famous you would still be together. Happy.

Your phone rang. It was your best friend, worried, as always since it happened. You picked up with no energy.

“Hey… how are you feeling?”

“… I don’t wanna talk right now…”

“Okay um… Do you want me to come over? We can play some games or-”

“I just wanna watch TV…”

You could ear her sigh on the phone.

“I understand what you’re feeling but… staying alone isn’t going to help you… I’m always here if you need me, call me when you feel like talking”

With that, she hung up.

You put your phone down, turning your attention back on the TV. You were changing the channels, trying to find something you actually wanted to see, when you saw her.

A part of you wanted to change the channel. The other told you to stay. To stay, and try to see if she showed any sign of missing you. Of being sad. Of anything that could prove she cared about you and regretted breaking up.

She was beautiful, as always. She was being interviewed by a random journalist, a smile on her face. The same smile that sent butterflies in your stomach every time you saw it. The same smile that made you fall in love with her all over again. The same smile that was hurting you so badly at the moment.

You couldn’t help but have flashbacks of the moments you spent together; your first dates, first kiss, nights cuddling comfortably, laughs at the stupidest things possible, playful fights while playing video games, discussions about eventually getting married… and when she told you it had to end.

You didn’t realize you were crying until your eyes started to hurt. You didn’t even bother whipping your tears away.

“… I should’ve stayed in the pool and drowned so I didn’t have to watch you leave…”

You thought you would never be happy again. It just hurt too much.

If she looked happy on screen, as soon as she was alone and away from the cameras, Jenna let her mask fall. She was as devastated as you if not more, knowing that she was the one to hurt you.

She never wanted that. All she wanted was to be with you.

She really meant it when she said she wanted to marry you. But her agent and her family put so much pressure on her, to do anything for her career, that she had to leave the most important person in her life.

She thought about you all the time. She even tried to message you multiple times. But she never seemed to find the right way to do so.

“I don’t know where you are right now…”

That sounded weird.

“Did you see me on TV?”

That sounded pretentious, and made it look like she didn’t care about what happened.

“I try not to hate myself just because you’re mad at me…”

That sounded like she was trying to make herself the only victim in the situation.

But she did hate herself. She fucked everything up.

It was destroying her from the inside, taking all her energy. She just wanted to sleep with you in her arms, like you used to.

She wanted everything back. Your laugh, your smile, your voice, your shitty jokes, your kisses, your hugs… You.

She wasn’t happy without you.

She found no pleasure in anything, no joy in things that used to make her happy. Her favorite food didn’t taste good anymore, her favorite song didn’t sound good anymore…

Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t broken up with you. Maybe you would be married by now. She could call you her wife. You would be happy together.

These thoughts only hurt her more and made her feel like more of an asshole than she already felt.

She just wished she could go back in time and tell you that even if everyone was telling her to leave you and think of her career, she was choosing you. Tell you how much you meant to her. How you made her life better. How she couldn’t be happy without you.

But she couldn’t. And she would forever regret what she did that day.

a/n: this was highly inspired by that TikTok :))

[allisie]

Hi, I love your writing ❤️

could I request something for Nate? like he and the reader are fighting and she gets hurt because he scared her and then he apologize? thank you 🥰

Simply Us

nate jacobs x reader

Euphoria Masterlist

NB // for some reason, when asked to write kinda angst stuff, I almost never follow script.

⚠️ warning ⚠️: Nate being a closer representation of his tv counter part, talk of insecurities, nate choking reader,

"Your fucking him aren't you. You trap me into this picture-perfect relationship and then go open your legs behind my back. Huh," Nate whispers into my ear. I had just gotten back from hanging out with Fez all evening at the convenience store.

"Jacobs what the fuck are you talking about," I ask.

"I should have known you're just like her, just repackaged. At least she looked the part of my perfect girl. At least she had the decency to do that much work in the relationship," Nate continued, his voice getting louder. Nate put his hands on the counter in front of me, effectively trapping me as he pushed his body onto mine.

"Why are you saying this? I didn't do shit. What are you talking about? I love you and you alone," you whisper, turning to face him. Placing your water on the counter.

"Did I say shit about love....... and you should be the first to know you don't need love to fuck someone. How can I ever trust you again" Nate moved his hands to my head.

"That's the thing with relationships, nate. You have to trust the other person in the relationship," I reply, my eyes searching his face for any signs of him believing my words.

"And have I ever, tested your trust. Tell me, when have I ever made you question my love for you," He asks, his hands moving to my neck. His eyes stared into mine.

"First month into dating, you still left flowers in Maddy's locker every day. Drove her to school, stayed at her house when you got wasted drunk," I state without a second of hesitation. Nate made me feel second to Maddie early in our relationship, and I would have left if it wasn't for the night he realised that I wouldn't stay if he didn't stop.

"Shut the fuck up," Nate shouts, "That was forever ago."

"Two hundred and seventy-nine days. You have no idea what it feels like being in a relationship with someone who loves someone else, but what else would I expect from THE NATE JACOBS, STAR QUARTERBACK, you will never have to feel how I felt," I shouted back.

"Shut the fuck up, you don't know what your talking about, you don't know me," Nate replied, his grip around my neck tightening.

"But I do, Nate. I have loved you since I was ten. Before Maddy, before you decided to become the buffest guy in the grade, I loved you when no one knew who you were in school. Then it all changed in one summer," I reply softly, my eyes filled with tears and my hands around his wrists.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP! YOU KNOW NOTHING!!" Nate shouts, his face turning red and his grip on my throat increasing.

"THEN TELL ME! OR AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH!! MAYBE I SHOULD GO GET MADDY!" I shout back before reaching up and slapping Nate across his face. Nate grip loosens around my neck as he tales a step back, and I move, putting more distance between us.

"I swear to god, I will kill you," Nate states after regaining his bearings. His eyes locked onto me.

"Do your worse. Just know that I love you until my last breath," I respond, tears falling down my face.

It was a couple of hours before we could look each other in the face. My neck had started to bruise in the shape of Nate's hand, and his face was scratched from my nails. I hid away in his bedroom while he sat in his bathroom. Walking out of his bathroom, Nate sees me sitting on his bed, my clothes exchanged for one of his shirts, and my hair pulled out of my face.

"Your hurt," Nate whispers.

"It doesn't matter, are you okay. Did I hurt you," I respond as I start to get out of bed.

"Yeah, I am fine. Let me take a look at you," Nate states, making his way over to me before I could even put my foot on the ground. He gently moves my head so he can see my bruising neck, "That looks serious. It's starting to bruise badly."

"I'll just cover it up. It's fine. You didn't mean it," I whisper as I wrap my arms around his neck.

"Stop justifying that shit. You should be running from me. Why are you so calm right now?" He asks before I pull him down into a kiss.

"I love you," I whisper again his lips.

"Your fucking crazy, you know that right,"

"Isn't that why you love me tho," I say, pulling him into another kiss.

"I am sorry," Nate whispers.

"I know," I whisper back.

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, selling drugs, angst, cursing, arguing

Chris’ POV

I arrived with Nate to Tyler's party, adrenaline simmering in my veins. We parked a block down from the house, and the faint thump of music pulsing in the crisp night air as we walked up. I looked up to see Dylan leaning against the fence leading to Tyler’s house, eyes already catching mine like he’d been waiting. It’d been weeks since he’d hit me up, and I was a little thrown when he nodded at me and casually asked, “Hey, man, you got anything on you tonight?”

Surprised, I didn’t respond right away, but he lifted his hand with a smirk, flipping through fifty dollars in his fingers. My gut told me to pass it up, to just keep my head down for the night, but instinct won out. I mean it is my job at the end of the day, I always have something on me since I had a load I needed to sell. I slipped him what he wanted, his eyes lighting up as he stuffed it into his jacket pocket before striding off without a second glance. Nate gave me a quick look, eyebrow raised, and I just shrugged. One sale, quick, done. Tonight was about Y/n, and I was ready to put that side of things behind me, even if just for a few hours.

The front door swung open, and we stepped into the chaos. Bodies packed the space, some leaning against walls, others talking in loud, tipsy clusters. But the second I saw her, my focus narrowed. Y/n stood by Willow, both stood looking at something they’d both been stumped by, but the sight of her face broke through the nerves in my stomach. Her smile, so genuine and effortless, had a way of making me forget the weight I carried around every day. All I wanted now was to be next to her.

We moved through the crowd, and her eyes found mine, brightening as I made my way over. After a quick round of introductions, we slipped into a rhythm that felt almost automatic. We moved into the living room and conversation flowed easily, each word making the noise of the party around us blur a little more. Willow suggested heading upstairs with Nate. I couldn’t care less what Nate and Willow were actually planning on doing, my only thought was that Y/n and I were going to have time to ourselves. I couldn’t believe how quickly she’d become the person I wanted to be around.

Once they disappeared up the stairs, she turned to me with that flirty look that always got me, like she knew something I didn’t. Her jokes, her quick wit, how she’d nudge me playfully if she thought I was being too serious, it was easy, the way we bounced off each other, like we’d known each other forever. An hour flew by in what felt like minutes. I’d almost forgotten about everything else, about Dylan, about the things I was holding back from her.

It wasn’t long before an hour had passed and we both started wondering what Nate and Willow were up to, or how they were getting up to it so long. The thought made me laugh, shaking my head. “Do you think they’re planning to start a secret society up there?” Y/n joked, nudging me playfully.

I laughed, my eyes bright with amusement. “If they do, I want in. I could use a secret handshake. You know, something cool.”

I chuckled, letting my arm stretch out on the back of the couch as I leaned in a little. “Like what? You strike me as the type to throw up gang signs.” Her laughter was soft, but then it tapered off as her expression shifted to something more serious. “Actually,” she added thoughtfully, “have you noticed how tense things have been lately with the gangs?”

Her words caught me off guard, hitting me like a punch to the gut. I froze, every nerve in my body suddenly hyper aware of the reality I was hiding from her. For a split second, I thought I’d lost all ability to move, my face going hot as the room seemed to close in around us. I forced a smile, tried to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, it’s been rough. It’s hard to ignore the tension in the air around the city.”

It was a vague response, but the best I could manage. The truth was, I couldn’t risk dragging her into the dangerous mess that was my life. I just hoped she’d drop it. But Y/n wasn’t someone to let things slide that easily, and I should’ve known better.

“The shootings are what freak me out,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Like, what if one of these people we’re surrounded by is somehow tied to it? It’s wild how quickly things can escalate. One minute you’re at a party, and the next, you’re ducking for cover.”

The irony of her words hit me hard. If only she knew. If only she knew that the person she was spending her time with was tangled up in the very world she was afraid of. I felt my throat tighten, a growing urge to just spill everything to her right then and there. She deserved to know the truth; she deserved a guy who wasn’t living a double life. But how do you tell someone that? How do you admit that you’re involved in something so dark and dangerous when you’ve spent weeks pretending to be just a normal guy?

Before I could figure out what to say, I saw Nate and Willow coming back down the stairs, both of them laughing, looking far too pleased with themselves. Nate caught my eye, giving me a small nod – a signal that, at least for him, the night had gone well. I seized the opportunity to stand up and offered Y/n a smile, trying to shake off the unease I was feeling.

“We’ll go grab you both a drink” I said, giving her hand a quick squeeze before heading toward the kitchen with Nate.

The second we were out of earshot, I leaned in closer to Nate, dropping my voice. “Y/n brought up the gang stuff, man. She’s scared, like really scared of everything going on. She’s seeing all of it around us, and it’s only a matter of time before she connects the dots.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, taking in my words with a seriousness that made me uneasy. “What did you tell her?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, frustration knotting in my stomach. “Nothing. I kept it vague, but how long can I keep dodging this stuff? She’s bound to figure it out eventually, especially when people like Dylan are out here practically shouting it.”

“Look, I get it, man” Nate said, glancing around as we neared the counter lined with drinks. “But maybe she doesn’t need to know. Keep her safe by keeping her out of it, you know?”

“Right” I muttered, though doubt lingered in my mind. Maybe that was the safest choice, but it didn’t feel right. I wanted to be honest with her, to not have this barrier between us.

We poured a couple of drinks and navigated back through the packed hallway, but a sharp laugh from around the corner made me look up, just in time to see the bathroom door swing open. Out stepped three girls, one by one, each with an expression more intense than the last. Y/n, Willow, and.. Sarah? My heart skipped a beat, every instinct on high alert.

Sarah? Dylan’s ex Sarah? The same Sarah who had once been one of my regulars? Since when are she and Y/n friends?

It was hard to read the exact vibe in that moment. Y/n’s eyes were locked on me, her expression steely and set, while Sarah’s gaze flicked between me and Nate, looking almost expectant, like she was waiting for something to play out. Willow crossed her arms, her posture tense, giving off a silent message that something was definitely off.

My pulse quickened as my mind raced to piece things together. I’d sold to Dylan tonight. Fucking hell, he’d practically hunted me down for it. There was no way Sarah would’ve been able to mention that to Y/n already.. right? Did she even know that Y/n and I were seeing each other?

“Y/n” I started, trying to keep my voice steady, but the weight of their stares was hard to ignore. I glanced sideways at Nate, whose brow had furrowed, and back at the girls. “You okay?”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed a bit, her lips pressed into a line. I could feel the judgement in her gaze, and something about it twisted at my chest. Whatever I’d just walked into felt loaded, way beyond the casual tension of a night out.

Y/n’s POV

My mind reeled as Sarah’s words sank in, twisting through me like a knife. Wait, his dealer Chris? My voice barely made it out, trembling as I tried to process what she’d just said. I needed her to be wrong. Needed it to be anyone else. “Chris who?”

Sarah blinked, then casually said, “Chris Sturniolo. You know, the guy who’s friends with Nate Doe?”

Everything around me seemed to fall away. My eyes darted to Willow, her expression mirroring my own shock, and I knew that she’d caught on as fast as I had. Nate’s name barely registered, I guess since I knew about the court case and the life Nate always had. But Chris? 

It felt impossible. But the pieces were starting to click, snapping into place with a harsh clarity I wasn’t prepared for. The late night messages, the vague excuses, the way he’d left our date so abruptly, claiming it was “something work related” that he “couldn’t miss.” Now it makes sense why. He’d lied so easily. We just had a conversation about this shit, about how it terrifies me, and he didnt even think to say anything? 

A wave of anger swept over me, and I struggled to keep it down, swallowing against the bitter taste of betrayal rising in my throat. I felt trapped in the tiny bathroom, the walls seeming to close in around me with every breath.

“I need to get out of here” I muttered, the words escaping on a shaky breath before I’d even decided to say them. I turned toward the door, my hand fumbling for the knob, my heart pounding so loud it felt deafening. Willow grabbed my arm, her grip firm and reassuring, but her face told me everything I needed to know, she was just as rattled as I was.

“I’m coming with you” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. But there was an edge of steel in it, her loyalty cutting through the haze of hurt that clouded my mind.

My stomach twisted as I pulled the door open, and there he was, standing in the hallway with Nate, a casual smile on his face as he held a drink in each hand. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. My heart felt like it had dropped straight through the floor. He looked so normal, so.. calm, and I hated how I still felt that stupid tug in my chest seeing him, even after everything I’d just learned.

His eyes flickered between us, his smile fading as he took in our expressions. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he looked from me to Willow, then to Sarah. And when his gaze finally settled back on me, there was something in his expression – an unease, a trace of something he was trying hard to mask. Nate must have picked up on the tension too, because he shot Chris a wary glance, then took a step back.

“Y/n.. you okay?” Chris asked, his voice careful, too careful, like he already knew that I knew.

I felt my throat close up, anger and betrayal boiling over so fiercely I thought I might burst. “Am I okay?” I bit out, my voice cracking as I tried to hold it together. “Why don’t you tell me, Chris? Are you okay with lying to my face?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn’t bear to hear him. I didn’t want to listen to his empty explanations, his excuses. I shoved past him, feeling the sting of tears at the back of my eyes. I heard Willow’s voice fading behind me, trying to calm me down, but I couldn’t stop. I stormed out the front door, not caring who saw me, needing fresh air and space.

Chris followed me outside, his footsteps catching up to me. “Y/n, wait! Can we talk about this?” he said, reaching for my arm, but I pulled away, my heart pounding.

“Talk about it?” I spun around to face him, my voice rising. “What could you possibly say to make this okay? I thought I knew you, Chris! I thought.. God, I was actually starting to feel something for you. And this whole time, you’ve been lying to me. You’ve been selling drugs, dealing, like it’s nothing!”

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he tried to keep his voice steady. “Y/n, it’s not as simple as you’re making it sound-”

“Oh, it isn’t?” I snapped, cutting him off. “What part of this isn’t simple? You deal drugs, Chris! You’re part of the reason people in this city are scared to walk home alone at night. You’re part of the reason people like Sarah end up doing this shit!”

His face paled, and he looked down, guilt and frustration flickering in his eyes. “It’s not like that” he said, his voice softening, but the crack in his defences was there. “I never wanted to be a part of this. It’s just.. It’s complicated, Y/n. There’s things you don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” I shouted, anger flooding every word. “Explain to me why you couldn’t be honest with me from the start. Explain why you let me fall for you while you hid this entire side of yourself from me. Explain why you were in my room last night, pretending everything was fine, when you knew, you knew, that I would hate this.”

He looked like he’d been punched, his face etched with hurt. “I never meant to lie to you. I didn’t want you to look at me like this, okay? I.. I couldn’t tell you because I was scared of this exact reaction. Scared you’d hate me.”

“Hate you?” I repeated, voice cracking. “I hate what you’re doing Chris.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly grappling with his own frustration. “You don’t get it, Y/n. I don’t do this because I want to. I’m just trying to survive. This life.. it’s not something you just walk away from.”

“So you’re just a victim here?” I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Poor Chris, forced into dealing drugs because he had no other choice?”

He looked away, jaw clenched, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Yeah, laugh it off. Make it sound like it’s that easy. You think I wanted this? My life’s been messed up since I was a kid. Nate’s the only person who’s ever had my back, and this.. this is just part of the package.”

I felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly drowned out by my anger. “That’s not an excuse, Chris. I get that life is hard, I really do. But this? This is a choice. And you made it.”

He shook his head, his eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and sadness. “You don’t know what it’s like. I don’t expect you to understand. But I care about you, Y/n. I didn’t want to lose you over this.”

“But you have lost me,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. The realisation hit me hard, like a punch to the gut, and I fought to keep my composure. “I can’t.. I can’t be with someone who lies to me. Who puts people in danger. Who just.. brushes off what I said tonight about how scared I am of this stuff.”

He stepped forward, his face pleading. “Please, don’t do this, Y/n. I want to try and get out of it.. Can I just explain myself?”

“You have two minutes.” I say sternly.

“I’m part of the Crimson Cartel.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it held a weight that made my heart pound. 

The name sent a chill down my spine. Everyone in Boston knew of the Crimson Cartel – their name haunted the headlines, each story more violent and horrifying than the last. Suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“The Crimson Cartel?” My voice wavered. “You’re involved in a gang too? What the fuck Chris?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground. “It’s not something I chose. Not really. It.. started with Nate. His family’s involved. His cousin Danny is one of the higher ups in the gang.” He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, raw and vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before. “When Nate got pulled in, I knew.. I knew I’d be next. There was no avoiding it. And I didn’t want to drag you down with me, Y/n. That’s why I disappeared on you all those years ago.”

The words hit me with the force of a tidal wave. “What? You thought you were protecting me?”

He nodded, shoulders sagging under the weight of his confession. “I thought it was the only way I could. Once I realised where Nate was headed, once Danny started hovering around us, making promises and threats, I knew it was only a matter of time. If I stayed.. you would’ve been dragged into that life too.”

I felt like my head was spinning, memories flashing through my mind like a reel. The countless days and nights I’d spent wondering why Chris had vanished, trying to convince myself it was some teenage misunderstanding or the natural drift of life. And now, to find out he’d left because of this – a dark secret he’d never let me see, never wanted me to be part of.

“So, what changed?” My voice cracked, emotion breaking through the thin wall of composure I’d been trying to keep up. “You saw me again, and… what? Decided that you didn’t care about that anymore?”

He stepped closer, desperation etched in his face. “I never stopped caring, Y/n. You don’t understand, when I saw you again, it was like.. it was like a sign. Like maybe things could be different this time. That I could find a way to leave it all behind, just.. be with you.” He let out a bitter laugh, glancing away as he ran a hand through his hair.

His words hung in the air, thick with longing and regret. I wanted to believe him, I wanted so badly to believe that he’d stayed away to protect me, that this wasn’t some elaborate lie. But the anger I felt at being left in the dark, at being deceived, still pulsed hot inside me.

“Ha- have you.. Killed anyone?” I say almost afraid to ask.

“No Y/n, no I’m not involved like that.. I’m just a runner thats all I promise.” Chris pleaded, as if it magically made things better.

A silence fell between us, thick and suffocating. He was breathing hard, anger and hurt swirling in his eyes. And for the first time, I felt a trace of empathy, maybe even pity for the situation he was in. But it didn’t erase the feeling of betrayal clawing at my chest.

“Then walk away, Chris,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “If you really don’t want this, then stop. Get out. Find another way.”

“It’s not that simple” he said, his voice pained. “You think they’d let me walk away? This isn’t some club I can just quit. Once you’re in, there’s no getting out without consequences.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “So that’s it, then? You’re just going to keep dragging people into this mess with you? People like Dylan, people like Sarah.. people like me?”

Chris’s face softened, and he reached out, his hand hovering over mine. “Y/n, please.. I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted a chance. A chance to see if there was any part of my life that could still be good.”

I stared at his hand, my heart breaking all over again. There was so much I wanted to say, so much anger and sadness twisting inside me. But all I could do was step back, out of his reach, my vision blurring as the tears finally spilled over.

“Then do what you have to do, Chris. But I don’t know if I can be part of it.”

And with that, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the darkness, the weight of our shattered connection pressing heavy on my heart.

a/n : should she take him back???? this is only the beginning of the emotional rollercoaster trust me

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo

[dixonsgirl93]

Soul Ties

“You like Daryl, don’t you?”

Carol’s question caught you off guard and you turn to look at her.

You sigh and look back up at the night sky so full of stars, you’d never seen anything like it.

“It’s more than that.”

Carol waits for you to say more, looking up at the sky too.

“Shame the world had to go to hell for us to be able to appreciate the sky at night. You don’t realise how many stars there are until you see it for yourself.” She commented.

A moment passed in comfortable silence.

“Daryl is like…” you start and then stop again. Somehow saying ‘soulmate’ out loud sounded dramatic and a little embarrassing.

“When I first met him, I felt like there was this moment. Not like love at first sight or anything like that, it’s hard to explain but I’m sure he felt it too. We locked eyes and…I don’t know, something happened in that moment.”

Carol had turned to you and was listening intently. You stared off at the stars, lost in thought.

“Since then, talking to him and being around him feels like the easiest thing in the world, like we’ve known each other forever. It’s weird. I’ve not felt like this with anyone else.”

“I had a feeling there was something going on between you two. I could see it. The others probably all can too.” Carol admitted. You turned to her, embarrassed.

“Oh my god. Is it that obvious?”

Carol chuckled at the look on your face. “You act like teenagers. The way you talk to each other. Honestly, if we hadn’t all met after the outbreak I’d have assumed you’d grown up together or something.”

Your heart warmed at her words. “Really?” You smiled.

“Mhm.” You could feel her watching your reaction.

“I don’t want to be dramatic but…it feels like how I imagine soulmates feel, you know? That instant feeling of comfort around them. Instant connection.” You shake your head, trying to find the right words but this was a whole new experience and it had never made sense to you.

“Yeah. That sounds about right, actually.” Carol nodded. “I’ve never had that connection with someone but by what you’re describing, you’re lucky to have found it. Not many people do.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“So, what’s going on with you guys? Are you just friends or…something more?”

You laugh softly. “It’s hard to say. There’s mutual attraction there, for sure. We flirt and…little touches here and there that just…get my heart racing, you know?”

“Just little touches?” Carol teased, nudging you with a smirk.

You smiled. “Yeah. I’m not sure if he’d want…anything more with me. I’m scared to ruin what we have. He means too much to me.”

“I get that. But, I think he likes you. No, actually, I know he does.”

You turn to Carol, your heart racing. “How?”

Carol tilts her head and scans your face. “The way he looks at you when you aren’t looking.”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. “Don’t get my hopes up.” You whisper, not daring to believe.

“You need to talk to him.” Carol insists, squeezing your knee.

“I…” you wanted to but the fear, the prospect of losing him was too great. “I can’t.”

“I hate to break it to you but you don’t have time like before. Life is short.” She leaned over and whispered. “Be brave.”

You chuckle incredulously. “I’m a wimp, Carol. Besides, the last time I made the first move I… Well, let’s just say, never again.”

Carol rolled her eyes at you. “Just remember what I said.” She placed a hand on your shoulder and used it as leverage to stand. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

Her words lingered for a long time afterwards. She was right, of course.

But, also, maybe Daryl was braver than you…

[iheartchv]

Hey, can you do a vampire, Leo x F!Reader, but in Bayverse with prompts and can you do it in a lemon too

79. “Lay back and let me take care of you.” 74. “Just relax.” 89. Mating season 142. “Bite me.” 58. Turtle bedroom 123. “Don’t hold back.” 132. “Argue all you want, we both know you belong to me.” 32. “Do you trust me?” 5. “MINE.” and turning into a vampire

Could you add this request to your Masterlist

Sorry this took sooo long, I've been working on my life and trying to figure out/ plan what I'm gonna do in the next 2 years ( I'm living with and supporting my dad until he is able have steady income somehow or someway.) Im sorry if this seems rushed or all over the place, it's been a while since I've written anything and... I've run out of ideas for the vampire TMNT AUs. Hopefully the spooky season can give me inspiration/motivation to start writing again🎃😈🧡💜🖤

Prompts used (c) @turtle-babe83

Everyone involved in the story is 18+ This was written by an adult for adults. ⛔No one under 18 here please.⛔ By clicking Keep reading you give consent that you are mature and of age to read the content below⚠️

💙🐢💙🐢💙🐢💙🐢💙

He was taught to stay hidden in the shadows. But the way you looked under the moonlight was enough to make him feel alive, something he hadn't felt for a long time. You were... different, and he couldn't help but to be drawn to you... like a moth drawn to a flame.

💙🐢💙🐢💙🐢💙🐢💙

Leo stood before you on the rooftop of your apartment, the pale light of the moon bathing the both of you in the spotlight for an invisible spotlight. He had sent you a text saying that he needed to talk with you. And here you both were, safe from any prying eyes.

"What is it, Leo?"

You crossed your arms across your chest, waiting to hear what the turtle in blue had to say. The way the moon made his eyes glow made him look dangerous. It caused your heart to pound, feeling like a prey to a hunter. You knew that he was a vampire after sometime, knew he was dangeous but... you couldn't stay away from him. You couldn't stop thinking and dreaming of him.

Leo's ocean blue eyes looked you up and down. He felt a stirring inside him. It was a powerful urge to do more than taste your blood... He knew what this hunger was. He had dealt with this feeling for so long, but since meeting you it had intensified. It was getting harder and harder to resist the temptation of taking you as he mate.

He knew you had feelings for him, too. Right now, he could read your mind, hear the sound of your heart starting to race. Even without his vampiric powers, he could tell by the light blush of your cheeks what you were thinking. He took a deep breath and then started to speak.

"Y/N, do you... believe in fate?"

What kind of question was that?

"I... don't know. I've never thought about things like destiny or fate."

"I've thought and meditated about it, and... I believe that you and I were meant to be."

You had so many thoughts running through your mind. Thoughts of you and Leo being immortal, together forever... This was all of a sudden and it had caught you off guard. What was you supposed to say?

"How can you say that? How can you be so sure? We've only known each other for a short time." You continued to spout out nonsense, anything to deny and lie to yourself about the way you felt toward him.

Leo stepped forward and replied,“You can deny and argue all you want, we both know you belong to me.” He could see through your meaningless words. Because whether you knew or not, you belonged to him before he knew you. He claimed you the first time he laid his eyes on you.

"Leonardo..."

You felt tears burn your eyes and turned your back to him, thinking that not by looking at him you'd be more rational with your thoughts. However in your minds eye you could see the terrapin's glowing blue eyes, drawing you into the luminious orbs. With a heavy sigh and a soft voice you said to him,"We're both from different worlds, it... it wouldn't work out between us even if we tried."

'You're so cruel to make me feel this way, Leo... I'm just trying to protect us from heart ache... I care for you too much to hurt you.'

Strong arms were wrapped around you in an embrace from behind. Leo had pulled you in, burying his snoot into the crook of your neck and shoulder, letting his senses be enveloped by your scent. He wanted to be intoxicated by you.

He could feel the pain in your heart just by looking into your eyes. He breathed as slowly and as calmly as he could to control his unquenchable thirst for you. This wasn't easy but for you he'd do anything to protect you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. That was out of line and selfish of me... I'm not usually like this, but.. you're the only one who makes me feel this way."

There was a silence between the two of you for a moment and then your hands gently touched one of his arms. The pebbled texture of his skin against the smoothness of your palm was an interesting sensation.

"I know. I... just need some time to think about all of this."

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be waiting for you, y/n."

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

After a few months, and a few times of spending the night with Leo, you were ready to accept the leader's proposal: to make you his forever. Call it being overconfident, or maybe just being completely stupid, but your feelings for Leonardo made itself be known and in your heart of hearts you loved him. There was no turning back, and there would never be someone who could treat you the way he did. 'Just relax. Lay back and let me take care of you,' he had said to you during your first time with him.

And right now, you were underneath him panting and moaning, with his hands holding your legs back as he rocked in and out of your dripping pussy. He was huge compared to a human and had made you orgasm a few times already... he was just getting started.

Leo was chasing his orgasm, knew he wouldn't last much longer. The urge to bite you, taste your blood, and fully take you as his grew stronger and stronger everytime. But with the last sliver of self control he had he stopped himself before he could sink his fangs into your neck.

“D-don’t hold back," you panted.

“Do you trust me? I... don't want..."

“Yes, bite me, please, Leo~ I want you, I want you," you softly whined.

He heard your mewling plea. How could he resist the look of wanton desire that burned so brightly in your eyes? After all, he vowed to give you everything you wanted.

He purred near your ear then growled, “MINE.”

Then he pierced his fangs into crook of your neck, tasting your sweet warm blood as it coated his tongue and down his throat. As he was doing that, he was slamming his hips against yours, becoming lost in the euphoria he felt right now. The sounds of your mixed crys of pain and pleasure spured him on, wanting to bring you to highest point of paradise.

This time with Leo was different from those other nights. After being spent, you fell into a deep sleep. That is until Leo softly woke you, his voice echoing in your mind. You knew in that instant that you and him were to be together forever more.

If you'd like to support me or my works, tip my Ko-fi ☕

[evermoresversion]

HIIIII!!!

Could you do promise rings with Jeremiah Fisher x reader where he goes all out, like walk onto the beach and rose petals and everyones there and all that fluffiness, and like promising to marry her after collage.<3

Have a good day/afternoon/night

-Nessa<3

🌺

CRAZIER, JEREMIAH FISHER.

A/N Thank you so much for your request, sweetheart. <3

I really got butterflies writing this, I can't believe it.

The name of the fic is because I was listening to that song while writing this.

PAIRING Jeremiah Fisher x Fem!Reader

TW/TAGS Pure fluff, established relationship.

SUMMARY You and Jeremiah have been in a relationship for a year now, both going more stable than ever, he decides it's time to take the next step.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN | JEREMIAH'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

There was this day where Jeremiah woke up more affectionate than usual. And he was always affectionate with you.

The two of you have known each other your whole life, since your mother, Christine, Laurel and Susannah had always been best friends.

You grew up with the Fishers and Conklins. And while Susannah entrusted Conrad to Belly, she entrusted Jeremiah to you.

She said you were the one for her sunshine boy.

And that's what you did, you took care of Jeremiah's heart and soul as if they were your own, which led him to fall in love with you and you started dating.

That was at least a year ago, if not longer. Returning to the present it was summer, everyone was at the summer house, the day was starting and Jeremiah was already all over you.

His head on your chest so you could caress his hair while he hugged you around the waist. His eyes were closed and her legs were tangled between yours. All on top of you, pinning you to the mattress so you couldn't leave his side.

And you really didn't plan on doing it.

Until Conrad went to get you out of your love nest.

"Hey lovebirds, breakfast is ready." he announced and then left the room. Jeremiah groaned with his face now hidden in the crook of your neck.

"Let's stay here," he murmured tightening his grip on your waist. "forever."

"That's what I want the most, but I'm afraid that if we don't go down now my mother will come for us to get us off our ears."

He complained again getting up from the bed and stretching out his hand for you to take it.

When you got up, he hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, letting you lead him into the kitchen.

"Good morning." Susannah greeted with a wide smile looking at the two of you. He was really glad that the two of you were together.

In addition to the fact that the reason for her smile was one that you didn't know.

You sat next to Jeremiah at the kitchen breakfast nook and both ate in peace.

That same afternoon you had returned from shopping with Belly and Taylor since both had insisted that they wanted to buy some dresses and they convinced you to buy one yourself.

"Where is Jeremiah?" you asked your mother who was with Laurel in the living room, she having a coffee while the other was typing something on her computer.

"He said he was coming in a while, don't worry." She nodded and you sighed going up to your room.

When you left, Laurel and your mother looked at each other knowingly, also knowing what was going to happen that night.

Later that day, once again the girls convinced you to get ready, put on makeup and do your hair because they 'felt like it' even though they hid the real reason from you by disguising it so you wouldn't find out anything.

"You look beautiful." Belly flattered smiling when she finished doing your hair.

"Never mind that she looks beautiful, she looks super hot." Taylor said, making you both laugh.

"How about we go for a walk on the beach?" the brunette offered as Taylor nodded her head.

"Dressed like that? I don't think so, I'm going to change and let's go." before you could move they both exclaimed a 'no' confusing you even more. "Okay girls, you always act weird but this time it's too much."

"It's just that I saw that there's a party on the beach and we're going to it, besides we're not so formal, they're casual dresses." the blonde shrugged and Belly nodded. When they convinced you, you agreed sighing.

You saw Taylor wrote something on her phone but you brushed it off.

"Good!" Each of them linked their arm with one of yours, each one being at your sides.

"Tonight will be unforgettable, I promise."

How correct was Taylor.

When you entered the beach you frowned not seeing any party on the beach.

"Where's the party, Tay?"

"We're almost there, wait." She tapped your arm twice and you kept walking.

Just when you were about to complain again, you saw something in the distance. You narrowed your eyes to get a better look and you could see... Jeremiah? What was he doing there?

And then you looked at the whole scenario.

The warm lights that shone where he stood. Along with Laurel, Susannah, Steven, Conrad and your mother. Jeremiah was standing in the middle of all of them.

And then you started connecting all the dots, but there was still something that didn't add up.

"Come on." Belly added smiling, leading you to where your whole family was.

When you got to where the others were, they left you in front of Jeremiah.

"You are welcome." Taylor commented making Jeremiah smirk.

Your face was totally a puzzle. And then Jeremiah took a deep breath, looking directly into your eyes and took your hands in his.

"I had a whole speech prepared but you look so stunning that you have left me speechless." he started by making you laugh softly and you heard some light giggles from the others. He took another breath of air, compose himself to be able to order a little everything he wanted to tell you.

"You've always been my favorite person, always, the only one I wanted to share my toys with when we were kids," you grinned at the memory, it was true. "The only one with whom I wanted to share my most deepest secrets and dreams." Your heart began to beat at an accelerated rate, and you waited for him to continue talking.

"And now I know that you're the only one I want to share the rest of my life with." when he said that suddenly everything stopped, even your heart. "I know that we are young, that we have a lot to live for, a lot to go through, but I know that I want all this together with you. With you I can be myself, with you I have everything. Everything I was looking for in a person I found it in you without even trying. You are the kindest, prettiest, funniest person I know. I want this to be eternal, for us to be eternal."

"So," he took a small box from the inside pocket of his jacket and bit your lower lip to keep from crying. Seeing him kneel in front of you. He opened the box letting you see a ring in it. "Will you marry me when we finish college?"

"Yes, Yes, Yes!" You exclaimed, nodding, and he rose to gently take your hand and put the ring on you.

He took your cheeks while you cradled his face in your hands to kiss him slowly, enjoying the moment.

When both parted, the mothers congratulated both of you, but especially Susannah and your mom.

"I know you will both be very happy." Susannah said caressing your face and once again you felt like crying, you hugged her tightly and she hugged you.

"Thank you so much."

When everyone congratulated both you, y'all returned to the house and when you and Jeremiah were in his room he kissed you again.

"You don't know how long I wanted to do this." he murmured joining his forehead with yours.

"I'm glad you already did."

disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2023.

[jazminrhode1]

can you please please do a fic where they are on the podcast and they have matt or chris' gf on the podcast and they talk about their relationship and it's really cute and the guy is just so in lvoe? omg please i need this haha

Forever Be Your Always Matt Sturniolo x Reader One Shot

“Good morning, campers. Welcome back to the cut the camera podcast,” Nick feigned enthusiasm, “can you believe we’re still doing this?”

You sat in Matt’s regular spot, kind of nervous and kind of excited.

You never did this. You never got involved with the triplet’s content. Matt had filmed countless vlogs for his personal channel with you that he never posted. Not because he was embarrassed or wanted to hide your relationship but, because he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

The fans were fine. They had no choice but to be fine. You and Matt had been dating since before they started YouTube. You were in more of their videos in the early days but, you kept out of it these days.

Nick was the one who suggested you come on the podcast. He was sick of editing you out of content. Chris was the one who said they should take a stand and let fans know that they weren’t going to ignore the hate that you get online anymore.

It didn’t really bother you. Not matter what anyone said, Matt was still your boyfriend, Nick and Chris were still some of your best friends.

“Today we’re here with a very special guest,” Nick gestured to Matt to finish the intro.

“It’s y/n” Matt announced as Chris and Nick cheers.

“Thanks, you guys,” you laughed. This felt more natural than you had expected. After a while you forgot that the microphones were even there.

You answer questions that Matt had answered a million times before. Where did you meet? How long have you been dating? What is your favorite thing about each other?

Chris claimed that he got the two of you together and, to be honest, you couldn’t remember if that was true. All you knew was that you were thankful for Matt everyday.

“Okay, fans want to know what it’s like dating the grumpiest motherfucker on the planet,” Nick asked.

You rolled your eyes.

“Matt is not that grumpy. Really, he’s not. You just get so animated for the vlogs, and sometimes you do too much - I don’t think he likes that,” you answered. Nick pretended to take offence but, you two had never been anything but honest with eachother. And, you knew that Nick’s energy is was a hgue part of why they had been so successful.

“Another fan wanted to know if this is the kind of relationship that your younger self would have pictured,” Chris asked.

“That’s a great question,” you said and the boys agreed.

“I mean, we’ve known each other for so long. Almost all of my memories have one of you in them. Like, our moms are so close, our Dad’s golf together, my Uncle was just at your Grandma’s house doing some electrical stuff. You know, we’ve vacationed together. There’s just so much shared history even before we started dating. I don’t know that a lot of people can say that they met their partner at 5 years old and started dating 10 years later. That doesn’t answer your question.” 

You thought it over for a moment.

“I think when I was younger, I thought that someone would come along and sweep me off my feet. I didn’t think it would be my desk buddy from the second grade, you know?”

Matt just smiled. For him, he always knew.

“But, I could not have dreamt him up. I don’t think you could have convinced a younger me that I would get this lucky. That I would have found my person at 15 years old or that our families would become so entangles or that his brothers would become 2 of my best friends, you know”?

“Yeah,” Chris said. His eyes glistened.

“Another question was, do you feel like you missed out on anything since you started dating Matt at such a young age?” Nick asked.

“It’s a fair questions but, no. Even our parents when we graduated were like… are you sure you don’t want to live life separately for a little while, and that was just never on the cards for me.”

“And, Matt what about you? Do you feel like you missed out on anything?” Nick asked.

“No. I have gained more that I could have imagined from being with y/n,” he began. “I feel like I will go through my whole life as a triplet being understood by two other people in this unspoken, unexplainable way. And, in the best way, we were kind of forced together by nature and you are two of the closest people to me and, even if I don’t say it often, I love you guys and I wouldn’t be here with out.”

Chris and Nick exchanged a look. Matt wasn’t usually as forthcoming with his feelings if it wasn’t with you.

“In saying that, I don’t believe in soul mate or destiny because that implies that I don’t have a choice in this. Everyday, I wake up and I thank God that it’s next to y/n. And every day it’s the easiest choice to be with her. And every choice that I make, I consider her above anyone else.I don’t want a relationship, a marriage, a family if it wasn’t with y/n. There is no one else that understands me or supports me or loves me in the way that y/n does. You can’t put a price on that and you can’t manufacture it and if, for whatever reason, we were to break up I know that I will never find this again,” Matt said as he reached for you hand over the bench.

You saw a glint of sadness wash over Chris’ face. Nick was swooning.

“Do you think you guys will get married?” Nick asked. He was straying from the previously agreed up list of questions.

“One day. If there is one thing that y/n’s Dad told me is to enjoy every season. Enjoy being a kind, enjoy dating as teenagers, dating as young adults, don’t rush things because you’ll get to the end of your life and regret not really living in the moment,” Matt said.

“Your Dad’s so smart,” Chris said.

“Yeah, he and Matt are big on the motivational speeches,” you joked.

You answered a few more questions about future plans and Matt’s unpublished vlogs. Chris went on a non-sensical rant about not wanting a girlfriend while simultaneously wanting a relationship that you and Matt had. You knew that he was only scared that the girl he dated would only want to be with him because of his job. You knew that would break his heart.

As they wrapped up and you crawled out from behind the desk, Matt wrapped you in a hug and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

Without saying a word, you knew how deeply he loved. Everything is better with him and he will forever be your always.