#now that he knows what she was shouldering all these years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherrygirlfriend · 1 day ago

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touchy subject pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of a miscarriage, just pure agony! wc: 1.8k inspired by the song 'touchy subject' by peach prc.

a white baby gate fixed in my hallway stays haunting the house with the angels we made; sometimes, i dream, a decade away, we meet in a grocery store; you look the same, with just a few grey hairs. the blonde little girl who tugs on your shirt with your smile looks nothing like me.

it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from.

after ending your engagement with your fiancé, you'd traveled all around the country in your beat-up truck, hoping to find a place where you'd belong; only to end up back in the outer banks. they say there's no place like home, and in a way, it was true. you can leave kildare island, but kildare island will never leave you.

"everything okay?"

you're startled out of your thoughts by the melodic sound of your mother's voice, and when she follows your gaze to the baby-gate attached to the door leading to the kitchen, her mouth twists into a frown. "i was meant to take that down before you got here..." she chewed on her lower lip, a pang of guilt almost punching her in the chest.

"it's fine." you shrug, trying to lift the ends of your lips into a smile, only for it to look artificial and rehearsed. "i should start unpacking."

"alright." your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, but should've been a comforting gesture, made you feel like you were underwater and the hand was simply pushing you deeper.

you stood alone in the living room of your apartment, the only thing to be heard of was the ticking of the clock your mother had already mounted on the clock, mixed in with the sounds of passing cars, so unlike the day you first moved into the apartment, yet so much like the day you were last there.

"you should keep the apartment."

"rafe, i can't do that. it's way too much, and i'm leaving-"

"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again."

your feet were almost moving on their own, the hardwood floor cold under your feet, leading you to that door, and even though you felt your blood run cold, every cell of your body telling you not to open it, you couldn't help but nudge the door open.

you didn't know what you were expecting.

stepping into the room, you let your hand trail over the soft-pink wall, still remembering the smell of paint.

"you know, you shouldn't be doing that." he sighed, leaning against the doorway. "i can just hire someone to paint the walls."

you roll your eyes, your denim overalls covered in the soft pink paint as the paint stained the white wall, "i want to do this. i'm not gonna hire someone to do everything for me when i'm perfectly fine doing it on my own."

"you're not-"

"hush." you pointed the paint roller at rafe, "i'm doing this. now pick up a paint roller or quit whining."

you look down at the crib, lined with white lace, picking up the brown teddy bear that used to belong to you when you were a child, brushing your hand over the fur, straightening the pink bow around its neck.

hung above the crib, was a picture of a couple that had just gotten engaged, wide smiles on both of their faces; a couple that had once been so familiar to you, but now, it was like you couldn't recognize either of the people in the photos.

it felt like everyone was staring at you as they walked past you; four years clearly hadn't been long enough to make the people of outer banks forget about you, and as you made your way towards the local cafe, you couldn't help but think about how long it'd take for the person you didn't want to know you were in town to find out.

you were strolling down the street, rafe's hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. you licked the ice cream cone, deep in thought, letting rafe take the lead.

"what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, your engagement ring glimmering under the sunlight.

"baby names." you shrug, "what should we name her?"

"do you have any names in mind?"

"i was thinking..." you pursed your lips, not sure if the name you had been considering would be appropriate or not, chewing on your lower lip as you turn your head to face your fiancé, an expectant smile on his lips and his brows lifted in question, "evelyn."

when the name left your lips, you saw his mouth fall open, and for a moment you thought that you never should've spoken, but after rafe cleared his throat, there was a clear smile on his lips, his blue eyes glassy.

"you- you uh, wanna name her after my mom?"

"yeah." you smile, squeezing his hand. "i do."

for the millionth night, you were laid in bed, looking through pictures, featuring the faces of the couple above the crib in the room next door. pictures with the man's arms wrapped around the woman's waist, ones of them holding hands, ones where one was pressing a kiss the other person's cheek, ones from the several midsummers parties they spent together, ones from halloween, thanksgiving, christmas...

the girl in the dress she had planned to wear on her wedding day.

"rafe, where are you taking me?" you laughed, the blindfold covering your eyes, "if the blindfold's for some kinky purpose, you better forget about it."

rafe laughed, continuing to lead you, his large hands on your waist, "come on, have a little faith in me. i'm not that bad, am i?"

"oh, you definitely are. just last week we were an hour late to ava's party because you just thought i was irresistible."

rafe snorted, "well, that's because you were." he pressed a kiss on your cheek, "you can take it off." he whispered, taking a step away from you.

untying the blindfold, you blinked a few times, letting yourself get used to actually being able to see again, only to be startled by the sight of your boyfriend on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, "rafe...?"

you wiped away the stray tear that had left your eye without permission before it could reach your jaw, continuing to scroll through the pictures, knowing that it'd be yet another sleepless night, but when you saw a picture of her, you paused.

you weren't sure who was more nervous, you or rafe, even though you were the one in the examination chair, your shirt pulled up and your rounded stomach on full display. his hand was tightly gripping yours, the man's jaw clenched.

"let's take a look, shall we?" the ultrasound technician smiled, and you nodded, feeling her spread the cold gel onto your stomach, a slight yelp leaving your lips, making rafe squeeze your hand even tighter. you looked to him, nodding reassuringly, speaking softly, "it's okay."

rafe's grip loosened slightly and he softened his grip, both of you turning your heads to the screen, and the moment you saw the little lump on the screen, you couldn't help but feel tears stinging in your eyes.

"look. that's our baby."

"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby."

just like on any average day on the island, the sun was shining, your skin radiating with warmth as you walked down the street, looking in through shop windows; it had been a few days since you'd first stepped outside, and it seemed like your arrival had become widespread news, and you didn't receive as many stares as you did before.

you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe.

you waited, tapping your foot against the ground and biting down on your lip, when finally, the door slowly started opening, a small smile forming on rafe's lips when he realized that it was you.

"hey baby," he chuckled softly, placing his hands on your waist, "you miss me so much you couldn't even text me to let you know you were coming?" he grinned.

"i have to talk to you." you pull away from his embrace, taking his hands off your waist, the blonde looking down at you with furrowed brows, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, clearly alarmed by the slight frown on your lips.

"what's wrong?"

"i'm pregnant."

without even realizing it, you had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing inside at the things on display as you were going down memory lane inside your head. you let out a small chuckle, about to step back and continue walking, when your blood ran cold, the smile fading away from your face, feeling as if someone had stabbed you in the heart.

to anyone else, it would've just been the backs of two random people. but even without seeing his face, you could recognize the only man you'd ever loved no matter where you went.

his short-sleeved white collared shirt was tucked into his dark jeans, riding up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, having grown out slightly since the last time you'd seen it, his signet ring on his middle finger.

you saw him let out a chuckle, and you could almost picture how it'd sound, his hand going to rest on the back of the person he was with.

a younger woman smiled up at him, and even just from her side profile, you could tell that she was gorgeous, her flaming hair flowing over her shoulders, the smile on her face genuine, matching his.

and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted.

an engagement ring.

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ktownshizzle · 2 days ago

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Love & Lullabies | Part 3

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: GRAB YOUR TISSUES!, this bitch is a whole ass kdrama episode and it’s gonna hurt before it gets better, happy ending tho!, themes of self-loathing, anxiety, and depression (MC), severe postpartum depression (not MC), it’s monsoon season and namgi don’t like umbrellas, (____) in the rain cliche scene, NAMTIDDIES because I can’t help myself, lastly… watch me morph this into another workplace romance/co-workers to lovers story lmao (real)

Word count: ~7k

Posting date: November 21, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme.

I am a clown 🤡 and a liar 🤥 From pretending this is a two-shot, then a three-shot. It has become a chaptered series, atp. There is a part 4 in the works and I fully intend to end it there, but again, I may have just jinxed myself. Anyway! Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist

“She’s Haneul’s mom.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What?”

“Sung Kyung and Yoongi… they’ve been good friends for years,” Namjoon explains quickly, his tone almost apologetic. “I didn’t think they were dating. But yeah, she’s his mom. She left for months and when she came back, she'd already given birth.”

You feel like the ground has been ripped out from under you. What Namjoon said made no sense. You clutch the edge of the counter, your mind racing. “What do you mean she left…?” You have never been more confused in your entire life.

Namjoon sighs. “I don’t know all the details. You know hyung, he tells you what he thinks you need to know. The rest, he keeps to himself. But I do know they did the paternity tests and everything, and Haneul’s his, theirs.”

Theirs. It’s easier if Namjoon just slices your heart open at this rate.

He places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “It’s better to hear it straight from Yoongi-hyung, since you guys are, you know.”

“I– I don’t know. I don’t know what we are,” you say, leaning your weight sideways against the wall to steady yourself.

Get a grip. It’s Haneul’s day.

Namjoon stands to shield you from the rest, in case anybody chances to look your way. You probably look like you’re about to puke. You definitely feel like it.

“Joonie…” Your voice is small when you ask, “Do you think she wants to come back now?”

Namjoon lifts his shoulder, lets it sag, “I don’t know. Maybe. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Your chest tightens, a wave of insecurity crashing over you. Of course, she would want to come back now. She’s beautiful, successful, everything you’re not. And most importantly, she’s Haneul’s mother. That’s the kicker. How can you compete with that?

Spoiler alert: you can’t.

When you step back into the living room, the first thing you notice is Yoongi’s mom. She’s standing off to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glares at Sung Kyung from across the room with a mixture of disapproval and barely-contained irritation.

“She shouldn’t be here,” she says quietly, her voice cold and clipped.

“Eomma,” Yoongi grits.

“She abandoned Haneul, Yoongi,” his mom hisses, her tone sharper now. “And she thinks she can just come here like nothing happened?”

Yoongi sighs, his hand briefly brushing his mother’s arm in a silent plea for calm. “Not here, eomma. Please. It’s Haneul’s birthday. Don’t make a scene.”

Of course he is siding with her.

You’re unable to tear your eyes away from Sung Kyung. How can she look so beautiful even if she looks miserable? She exchanges a few more quiet words with Yoongi near the door, her expression alternating between frustration and what looks like regret. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you catch the way Yoongi’s shoulders stiffen, the way his jaw tightens as she reaches out to brush his arm. You see Yoongi nod, and you’re so curious, what is he agreeing to?

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she leaves. The door is closed, but for sure this chapter isn’t. Not even close.

You entertain yourself by watching some of the BTS members play some video games. Their antics, as funny as they are, don’t really register. Your laughs are hollow, mind totally elsewhere. It’s a while before Yoongi finally finds you, after he disappeared to his studio after Sung Kyung left and went MIA for half an hour or so.

He corners you near the snack table as you pretend to be engrossed in arranging leftover cupcakes.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching your arm lightly.

You turn to face him, your smile brittle. “Hey. How’s everything going?”

“Can we talk?”

You nod, following him toward the hallway, away from the laughter and chatter. The noise completely fades as you enter his soundproof studio and he turns to face you.

He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk to you,” he says carefully, like he’s choosing every word with precision.

“About Sung Kyung.” you offer. He nods, shoulders visibly tense. “Yeah. And Haneul.”

The mention of Haneul makes your chest tighten, but you steady yourself, waiting for him to continue.

“She and I… we were close for a long time,” he begins, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And yeah, there was a point where I thought it was going somewhere. But then she just… disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“She left Korea. No warning, no explanation. Just… ghosted.” He shrugs. “I didn’t know where she went or why. She didn’t contact me for months.”

“And then one day,” he continues, “she called. Told me she just gave birth to a son. That it was mine.”

The words hang between you, heavy and jarring. You don’t say anything, letting him get it all out.

“She didn’t tell me she was pregnant,” he says, shaking his head as if he still can’t believe it. “I literally only found out after he was born.”

You feel a pang of sympathy, but then you’re also feeling angry at Sung Kyung. “Why did she wait so long to tell you?”

“She said she didn’t want to burden me. I was already doing my military service and I had that thing… that case. She thought she could handle it on her own.” He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and conflicted. “But after she had him… she couldn’t. She fell into really severe postpartum depression and some other health issues, basically telling me she was diagnosed unfit to take care of him.”

Your throat tightens, and you clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking. “So you stepped in.”

He nods, “I didn’t have a choice. Haneul needed someone, and I couldn’t—I wouldn’t turn my back on him. He’s my son. It was confirmed by a paternity test.”

“And now she’s back,” you say, more a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “She says she’s better. That she wants to be in his life now. That she can be. And honestly… I don’t know what to do.”

You study him for a moment, your emotions warring between compassion and your own sense of inadequacy. “What do you want, Yoongi? Not for her, not for Haneul. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, gnawing his lip before he says, “I just… I want to do what’s right for Haneul.”

The words cut deeper than you expected, but you force a small smile, nodding as if they don’t sting. “That makes sense.”

Yoongi takes a step closer as he studies your face. “But what about you?” he asks, his voice almost too gentle. “How are you feeling about all this?”

The sincerity in his question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re tempted to tell him everything. The ache in your chest, the jealousy you hate admitting to, the fear of losing whatever connection the two of you have built. But instead, you plaster on a smile, shoving all those emotions into a corner of your mind.

“I’m fine,” you say lightly. “It’s Haneul’s birthday. That’s what matters.”

Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s trying to read the truth in your expression. But after a moment, he nods, letting it drop. “Okay.”

Finally, you glance at the door, forcing yourself to straighten up. “We should probably get back to the party.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, stepping aside to let you pass. But as you reach for the door, his voice stops you.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

You turn back, your brows furrowing. “For what?”

“For everything,” he says, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite name.

You don’t know how to respond, so you just nod. Because his words—why did it feel like a goodbye?

The rest of the party passes in a blur. You keep smiling, keep laughing, keep pretending everything is fine. You stand by as Yoongi helps Haneul blow out his single candle, snapping pictures of his chubby hands smashing into the frosting.

You’re wiping stray frosting from Haneul’s cheek when you glance at him and for a split second, you see her. Sung Kyung’s face is right there, faint but unmistakable, in the shape of his eyes and the curve of his brows.

The realization hits you like a freight train. You freeze, the cloth clutched in your hand, staring at this beautiful baby boy who isn’t yours. Who will never be yours.

It’s too much. You set the muslin down, excusing yourself to the kitchen with a muttered, “I’ll grab more drinks.”

You don’t even make it to the fridge. You stand there by the counter, gripping its edge as you force yourself to breathe, to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never felt more out of place in your life.

Namjoon finds you a few moments later, leaning against the doorway with a quiet, watchful look. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He just stays there, close but not too close, his presence steady and silent. You appreciate him for that—for knowing exactly what you need when you’re unraveling. He’s your best friend after all.

But even his quiet support isn’t enough to keep the emotions at bay.

Across the room, Yoongi’s eomma catches your eye. There’s something pitying in the glances she throws your way, a faint furrow of her brow that makes you want to sink into the floor. You had the feeling she knows there’s something between you and Yoongi, but now… now it feels like she’s seeing through you, like she knows exactly how small you’re starting to feel.

Because the truth is, you’re nothing.

You’re not Haneul’s mom. You’re not Yoongi’s girlfriend. You’re just someone who helps out when it’s convenient, and now that they have a nanny, you’re not even that. And it hurts. God, it hurts because you thought—maybe foolishly, maybe selfishly—that you were becoming something more. That you were becoming someone to them. That, maybe, you were becoming a family.

But now, as you stand there watching Yoongi carry Haneul to his room, barely sparing you a glance, the truth sinks in like a stone in your chest. You’re not someone. You’re a placeholder. A stand-in.

And pretty soon, just like Jiyong, they’re going to discard you. Because that’s what always happens. You’re always easy to leave behind. Always replaceable. Always useless.

The thought claws at you, and you suddenly can’t breathe. You grab your things and run. The cool night air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

The tears come before you can stop them, hot and angry and full of every ounce of self-loathing you’ve tried to bury.

You glance back at the building. Maybe for the last time. You’re on the outside now—of course you are. You’ve been on the outside this entire time.

Namjoon must have noticed you were gone because he texted shortly after:

Joonie: You okay? Joonie: Don’t worry, I told them you weren’t feeling well. Go home and rest. Text me when you’re there.

That night, you ignored Yoongi’s call. You stared at the screen as his name lit up, your finger hovering over the answer button before you let it ring out. He left a voicemail. You deleted it without listening.

The next morning, you wake up to another call from him. This time, he doesn’t leave a voicemail. Instead, he sends a message.

Yoongi: Can I come over?

You stare at the text for a long time, your stomach twisting with guilt and anger and sadness. Finally, you type out a single word:

You: No

You throw your phone face-down on the couch, ignoring the way it buzzes again and again and again.

For the next few days, you ghost him.

It wasn’t easy. Every time your phone buzzes, you feel a pang of guilt, a deep ache that gnaws at your resolve. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. You need time. You need to figure out where you stood in all of this.

His messages come sporadically at first:

Yoongi: Hey, can we talk? Yoongi: I don’t know what I did wrong, but I want to fix it. Yoongi: Please. Just let me know you’re okay.

You delete most of them without reading too much into them. But then he starts sending pictures.

The first was of Haneul, grinning in his chair, wearing the capybara slippers you’d gifted him for his birthday.

Yoongi: Haneul misses you

The next day, another photo. This time, Haneul was lying on his playmat, still wearing the slippers, holding onto Bora.

Yoongi: Still missing you

Each message chips away at your resolve, but the one that breaks you comes Thursday evening:

A short video clip. In it, Haneul is sitting on the floor, babbling as he clutches Bora. And then, clear as day, he says it:

“Sa-ra.”

Your heart twists painfully. It’s clipped, but it’s unmistakably sarang. Your term of endearment for him, the nickname you’d called him since he started smiling every time he heard it. He’d never been able to say it back—not until now.

And Yoongi knows exactly what he is doing, sending this to you.

You stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, leaving the video on loop, before finally opening your call log. His name was right at the top, of course. You hit the call button, your hands trembling as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice comes through almost immediately.

You exhale shakily. “Hi.”

There was a pause. Then he speaks again, and you can hear his vulnerability. “I didn’t think you’d call back.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “How could I ignore that video? Haneul… he said sarang.”

“Yeah, he’s been saying it non-stop since yesterday.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Yoongi… about… us.”

“Mmh?” He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush you. He just waited.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began. “Haneul deserves to have a complete family. He deserves to know his mom, to have her in his life. If—if that’s what you both want.”

Yoongi was quiet for a long moment before he finally responded. “But… he needs you, too.”

Before you can back out, “Yoongi, I need space,” you say finally, your voice trembling.

There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Okay.”

It wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t an argument. Just… okay. It’s the most ‘Yoongi’ reaction to things, and you hate it. You hate it so much.

You hang up, staring at the screen until it goes dark. Your chest felt heavy, your heart splintering in ways you didn’t know it could.

You’d told him you needed space and he said okay. The truth is, when you said space, you just wanted him to make room for you. To assure you that you belong with them. That there is a seat, warm and yours. But he didn’t.

You miss Yoongi so much it feels like a physical ache. But it’s not just him. You miss Haneul’s face, his giggles, his sleepy weight in your arms.

Namjoon has been doing his best to check in. He sends you UberEats nearly every other day, a steady stream of meals you barely touch. The one time he came over, unannounced, he walked into what could only be described as a disaster.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon muttered, kicking a stray box out of his way as he entered your apartment. The laundry basket was overflowing, your trash can piled up. You were in a 2-day old shirt, hair a rat’s nest, and you’re slouched on the couch with an empty brain.

Namjoon stared at you, his disappointment radiating off him. “Y/N, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, barely looking at him.

He scoffed. “Fine? You look like you’ve been run over by a truck. Twice.”

“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, but the truth of his words stung.

Namjoon crouched in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “Move in with me for now. You know I have the space. You can’t stay here like this. It’s not healthy.”

“I’m not moving in with you, Joon,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not your charity case.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re not a charity case. You’re my best friend. And I’m not gonna sit back and watch you drown in your own misery.”

“I’m not gonna live in your and Soyeon’s sex den,” you snapped unnecessarily.

Namjoon just looked at you, shook his head, before he flopped beside you on the couch. He fed you, forced you to go take a shower, and watched some shitty reality show with you. He eventually left, though you could feel the weight of his disappointment long after the door shut behind him. If he only knew how thankful you were of those visits.

A week later, you find yourself standing in front of Yoongi’s apartment. You didn’t plan this. You don’t even know what you’re hoping to achieve by being here. All you know is that the ache of missing them—missing him—has become unbearable.

You knock on the door before you can second-guess yourself.

Mrs. Kwon opens it, her expression immediately uneasy. “Y/N,” she says, her tone cautious. “You should come back another time.”

“Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s just… not a good time.”

“I need to see them,” you insist, stepping forward.

“My dear girl, please listen—”

But you’re already past her, your determination overriding her warnings.

When you step into the living room–

Fuck.

There she is. Sung Kyung, sitting on the floor with Haneul in her lap, holding a plush toy you don’t recognize. She’s smiling at him, her voice soft as she tries to coax him into playing with it. Adding salt to the wound–Bora, the capybara plush you gave Haneul, is discarded carelessly in the corner near the diaper pail.

Your heart stops, and before you can control yourself, you take a step back, your movement catching Sung Kyung’s attention. She looks up, confused. She doesn’t know you, why would she?

Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see him emerging from his studio, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Who rang the—”

His eyes widen when he sees you, but you’re already moving, your feet carrying you toward the door in a blind rush.

“Wait—Y/N!”

You barely hear him as you bend down and snatch Bora from the floor. Haneul’s voice suddenly cuts through the air, his tiny, excited voice calling out, “Sa-ra! Sa-ra!”

Tears blur your vision as you wrench the door open and run, Yoongi’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop.

It’s raining when you step outside. Great, because this day couldn’t get any worse. The cold droplets soak through your clothes almost instantly. You don’t have an umbrella, but you don’t give a shit. Tears stream down your face mixing with the rain.

You don’t know how far you get before you feel it—a warmth against your back, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Yoongi’s voice cracks as he says your name, his rain-soaked body like a furnace against your shivering frame. “Please.”

He sounds like he is begging, but why? What is he asking? What does he want from you?

You shake your head, your voice breaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Then why did you?” he asks, his tone desperate, his chest heaving as he pulls you tighter.

“Because I thought… I thought I had a place here. But I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice barely audible over the rain as he turns you to face him. His hands come up to cradle your face. He was starting to shake too, the pads of his fingers damp against your skin. His eyes search yours, desperate, and before you can stop him—or yourself—he closes the space between you and kisses you.

Against the pouring rain, your lips press against each other, clumsy, shaky, unexpectedly urgent. His lips move like he’s trying to say all the things he can’t find the words for, like this is his only way to make you understand. And for a second, maybe a minute, maybe more, you let him.

You feel his ragged breaths as he licks into your mouth, his hair brushing your temple, droplets trailing down your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently through your wet hair. It’s tender and fierce all at once, like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

But there is a tinge of bitterness cutting through the taste of his kiss. This isn’t enough—not to fix everything, not to erase the doubt clawing at the edges of your mind. Not to prevent the new thoughts from worming its way inside.

Sung Kyung is in his apartment right now. So maybe it’s not just about Haneul anymore. Maybe they’re reconciling. Trying to sort out their own feelings that they put on ice. Yoongi did say he thought their relationship was going somewhere.

God, you do not want to be some homewrecker. You cannot do that to Haneul. Weakly you try to pull back.

But Yoongi doesn’t let you. His lips chase yours, teeth gently sinking into your plush and you’re unable to stifle the moan from your mouth at the delicious sting. You open up to him, lips sliding against his as his other hand grips your waist now, pulling you closer until you can really feel the heat of his body through the drenched fabric of his clothes. The world feels like it’s spinning, everything is blending into a dizzying blur, and you don’t know how to stop it.

Your hand hovers at his chest, not pushing him away but not pulling him closer either. Your heart is screaming to hold on just a little longer. But your head is telling you—

“No,” you whisper, breaking away as quickly as you can without slipping on the slick ground. Your chest heaves as you clutch Bora tighter against you.

Yoongi stands frozen, his lips parted as if he’s about to speak, his dark eyes locked on yours. The rain clings to his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead, and for a moment, he looks completely lost.

“I can’t do this, Yoongi,” you choke out, your voice shaking. “I just… I can’t.”

And before he can stop you, you turn and run again, your feet splashing through puddles as you make your way to the nearest bus stop. By some miracle, you make your way home in one piece. Barring one vital organ that’s discarded somewhere in Hannam.

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window And I can't see at all And even if I could, it'd all be gray But your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad - Stan, Eminem

Your apartment is cold and quiet, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound. The mug of tea on your table has long since gone cold, untouched, as you sit curled up on the couch, staring at that grainy selca Yoongi sent you weeks ago.

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Namjoon steps in, shaking off the rain and holding a grocery bag in one hand, his hoodie slung over his shoulder. He’s soaked to the bone, but he flashes you his dimples anyway.

“You know,” he starts, setting the bag on the counter, “for someone who always claims they’re fine, you sure as hell don’t look it.”

“Don’t start, Joon,” you mumble, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

Namjoon ignores you, glancing around the apartment with a disapproving look. “Seriously? It still looks like you just moved in. No decorations, no warmth. This part could be a photo wall or something…”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, Mr. Art influencer.”

“I need a dry shirt,” he says, gripping the edge of his tee and pulling it up and over his head without fanfare.

You’ve never felt attracted to your best friend in any physical or sexual way ever (seriously, ew), but you can appreciate a good physique when you see one.

“Wow, Joonie, are your tiddies getting bigger?” you say as you stand to find a shirt for him from your makeshift closet.

“You’re an idiot.”

Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Namjoon straightens, wiping his hands on his pants. “You expecting someone?”

You shake your head.

Namjoon strides to the door, glancing through the peephole with a tsk before pulling it open. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s shirtless, which would be awkward enough if it were anyone else standing there.

But it’s Yoongi.

Yoongi stands in the hallway, his expression strained, his eyes immediately scanning the room behind Namjoon until they land on you, curled on the couch. You clutch the t-shirt you were about to lend Namjoon tighter against your chest, unsure whether to feel relief, anger, or the painful longing that’s been gnawing at you for days.

“I need to talk to her,” Yoongi says, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.

Namjoon steps into the doorway, crossing his arms as he blocks the entrance. “Maybe not today, hyung.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “I have to. I need to explain.”

Namjoon doesn’t budge, his voice soft but firm. “Sorry, hyung. Not after everything.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you again, desperate. “I just… fuck,” He swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t let her think she doesn’t matter to me. She does. More than anyone.”

Namjoon hesitates for the first time, glancing back at you. His expression softens briefly, but when he turns to Yoongi again, it’s your voice that responds.

“Yoongi.” Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the tension like a blade. Both men turn to you, and the hope that flashes across Yoongi’s face makes your lungs shrivel.

You grip the fabric in your hands tighter, willing yourself to stay firm. “You should go.”

Yoongi’s lips part as if to argue, but the look in your eyes silences him. He nods once, slowly, his expression crumbling for just a moment before he turns away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it.

Namjoon watches him for a moment longer before stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door.

The first step is always the hardest.

Namjoon didn’t sugarcoat anything when he told you to get your shit together. “I love you,” he said bluntly after Yoongi left that rainy night, “but you’re the only one who can pull yourself out of this. No one else is coming to save you. Not me. Not Jiyong. Not Yoongi. Just you.”

You hated hearing it, but he was right.

So you took the first step: you called a therapist. Twice a week, you sat in that tiny, clinical room and talked about everything you’d buried for years. The abandonment issues you’d carried since childhood. The shame you felt after your relationship with Jiyong fell apart. The way you constantly give pieces of yourself to others, just like you did with Haneul and Yoongi, leaving nothing for yourself. Thinking that’s okay.

Session by session, the fog began to lift. Slowly, you started to understand that happiness couldn’t come from someone else, no matter how deeply you loved them. It had to come from you—built piece by piece, nurtured, protected.

You realized that loving yourself wasn’t selfish. It was necessary. And for the first time in months, you began to believe you were worthy of it.

At home, you started small. One night, you finally tackled the pile of laundry that had been haunting you for weeks. Another night, you scrubbed down the kitchen until the counters gleamed. And then one weekend, you went to IKEA and bought a bed frame—not just a functional one, but a beautiful one that made you feel excited to wake up in the mornings.

You even hung up paintings on the walls, little pops of color that made the apartment feel like it was actually yours. Namjoon gave you some from his collection, too.

Running sucks, but it became your nightly ritual. At first, it was hard. Your legs ached, and your lungs burned. But the more you pushed yourself, the better it felt—the rush of endorphins, the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement, the way your thoughts quieted for just a little while.

Bit by bit, you started to feel lighter. Like you were shedding layers of weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying.

And then there was Yoongi.

He was still a constant name on your phone, though the tone of his messages had shifted over time. At first, his texts were full of apologies and pleas for a second chance:

Yoongi: I know I messed up. Please let me make it right.

Yoongi: I’m sorry for everything. I hate that I hurt you.

Yoongi: I need you, Y/N. I should have told you sooner.

Yoongi: Can I come over? I really want to explain everything.

Yoongi: I’m an idiot.

Yoongi: I’ll wait for you. Just tell me when you’re ready to talk.

Then came the texts about Haneul:

Yoongi: Haneul misses you. Not to one-up my own kid, but I miss you more.

Yoongi: Han said your name today. He kept pointing at the door like he was waiting for you to walk in.

Yoongi: I bought him a new Bora. This giraffe is lame. [image attached]

Yoongi: Han’s been carrying Bora 2.0 everywhere. He even tried to feed it rice last night.

And now, weeks later, his messages had settled into something different.

Yoongi: I was in the studio all day, and Hobi made me take a break. We ended up eating too much fried chicken and now I have a zit.

Yoongi: How was your run today? Namjoonah says you’re joining a mini marathon. Good luck!

Yoongi: Still have boxes of Silver Moon tea. It’s too bougie for my ghetto taste buds. Lmk if you want it. Yoongi: Actually, no need. I'll send it thru Namjoonah.

Yoongi: I fucked up the choreography to our new track at Mubank today like an amateur. I hope you didn’t get to watch it.

They were simple, almost mundane. But Yoongi’s texts had a way of hitting you square in the chest. You think back to that conversation in his home, the one where he admitted how lonely he sometimes felt—how he wished for someone to talk to about the little things, the big milestones, everything in between. Someone to share life with. And now, with every message he sends, it feels like he’s choosing you.

Even though weeks have passed without seeing him, he’s still there. Reaching out. Trying to stay connected. Even when you never reply.

But his messages have become tiny bursts of dopamine in your otherwise quiet days. You’re both surprised and relieved he hasn’t stopped trying, that he hasn’t grown tired of pouring himself into the void of your Kakao.

Namjoon told you recently that Yoongi and Sung Kyung have started co-parenting Haneul. She gets supervised visits twice a month. At first, the green-eyed monster threatened to come out. But your best friend tells you that Yoongi never wanted to rekindle anything with Sung Kyung, which gave you some peace. Maybe if you’d been braver back then, you could’ve asked Yoongi yourself. Maybe if Yoongi had been better at communicating, he would have told you then it wouldn’t have felt like such an uphill climb.

But, he was also having such a difficult time, sorting through his own circumstances. And your insecurities at the time were too heavy, too overwhelming to sift through. You probably wouldn’t have believed him then. The progress you’ve made now—to love yourself first—feels hard-won and necessary. And maybe Yoongi also needed to go on a journey to really know what he wants for him and Haneul.

You’ve come to realize through all this that you don’t really hate Sung Kyung. Maybe you were angry on behalf of Yoongi and Haneul for all the secrets she kept, for the ways her choices hurt them both. There was even a night when you found yourself doing a Naver search on postpartum depression. You hadn’t understood how debilitating it could be, how it could turn even the strongest person into a shell of themselves. It didn’t excuse everything, but it gave you perspective, especially as you battle your own demons.

Still, as you journey forward, there are moments when you imagine the “what ifs” with Yoongi, if Sung Kyung hadn't showed up that day. Sometimes, late at night, your mind drifts back to him. You replay his kiss, remembering the way it felt, the way he tasted. You can still conjure the image of his face under the rain, the way he looked at you in that fleeting, heart-wrenching moment.

You wonder if he thinks about it, too. You know he’s waiting. You just hope that when you’re finally ready to let him back in, he’ll still be there—on the other side, willing to try again.

One evening, Namjoon called, his tone unusually excited. “Hey, I’ve got something for you.”

“No, I don’t need more lube, I’m stocked,” you joked, just to be a piece of shit.

“Shut up and listen,” he said, laughing. “Hybe’s opening a daycare for employees’ kids. They need someone to run it. You’re perfect for this.”

Your stomach flipped. “What? Joonie, I don’t even—”

“Don’t even try to argue,” he interrupted. “You have a degree in early childhood education. You love kids. This was your literal job in the states. C’mon, this is made for you.”

“What if I’m not ready?”

Namjoon sighed. “You are. I’ve seen how much work you’ve been putting in. You’re stronger than you think. Just… apply. The worst they can do is say no.”

You’re quiet, so he added. “...and they won’t. I’ll have each member of Bangtan sign a recommendation letter for you.”

“You’re too much, Joonie,” you laugh. But you surely won’t put it past him to do that. “But ok, I’ll apply.”

So you did. And a week later, you got the call.

Your first day at Hybe’s daycare center feels like a dream you didn’t know you had. The space is beautiful—sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful toys, tiny tables, and pastel murals. There are only three kids who pre-registered, but you were expecting more to walk in.

Namjoon is there, truly your ride or die, sitting casually on your desk with his ever-supportive grin. “You nervous?”

“Nope,” you say, trying to sound confident. But the way your voice wavers gives you away.

Namjoon chuckles. “Relax. You’re going to crush this.”

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and in walks Hobi with Yunjin and their toddler, Jeongyeon. The little girl looks adorable in her sunflower-patterned overalls, her tiny pigtails bobbing as she walks toward the play area.

“Jeongyeon, say hi to teacher Y/N,” Yunjin says, gently guiding her forward.

“Hi!” Jeongyeon squeaks.

You crouch down to her level. “Hi, Jeongyeon! You’re gonna have so much fun today.”

“First kid of the day, ayeeee!" Hobi says, high-fiving Yunjin, before she runs to Jeongyeon who is mounting the toy pony. Then he turns to you, “Congratulations, Y/N.”

Just as they’re leaving, Namjoon nudges you. “By the way, did you know there’s a capybara mascot today?”

“What?” you blink, confused.

Before Namjoon can explain, something soft and warm suddenly envelops you in a hug. You turn to see a capybara mascot wrapping its plush arms around you, its giant head tilted adorably to the side.

“What the…” You laugh, surprised, grasping its arm. “Hybe really went all out, huh?”

Namjoon smirks. “Of course. First-day activations are a big deal here. And look at that, your favorite animal. What a coincidence.”

You grin, stepping back to look at the mascot. “Guess I’m a little biased, but this might be the cutest thing ever.”

The mascot gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up.

Shortly, Haneul arrives. The moment you see him toddling through the door, all your nerves, all the weight you’d carried for weeks—gone. There’s no ache, no tension. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness.

His nanny, a kind older woman, walks him in, holding his hand as he peers curiously around the room.

Haneul bounds toward you giggling, his gummy smile stretching wide as he lets go of the nanny’s hand and waddles toward you.

“Hi, sarang,” you say, crouching down to scoop him into your arms. He smells like baby lotion and sunshine, and your chest feels full as he buries his face in your shoulder. “I missed you.”

You glance toward the door, your eyes darting around instinctively, but there’s no sign of Yoongi. A small pang of disappointment settles in your stomach before you shake it off. He’s probably holed up in his studio, working on something brilliant. It would have been nice to see him though.

The capybara mascot wanders over, drawing Haneul’s attention instantly. His eyes light up as he points at it, giggling.

“Appa!” Haneul says excitedly, punching the knee of the mascot with his tiny fists.

You laugh, brushing a hand through his soft hair. “That’s not your appa, Haneul. He’s probably in one of the big studios upstairs working very hard right now.”

The mascot gives you a pat on the head, and something about its movements feels oddly familiar. But you don’t dwell on it, too caught up in Haneul’s delighted squeals as the mascot does a little dance for him. It sure loves to shake its ass.

For the rest of the morning, you’re in your element, guiding the kids through activities, wiping tears, and singing songs during circle time. Every so often, Haneul points at the mascot and calls out “Appa!” again, and you can’t help but laugh.

And if the capybara mascot seems to hover a little longer around Haneul, or if it lingers near you whenever there’s a chance, well… you just chalk it up to coincidence.

(One day, much later, you’ll find out the truth. But for now, you’re content not knowing.)

That night, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to find another message from Yoongi.

Yoongi: Congratulations on your first day!

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. For the first time in weeks, as you look at your thread of messages from him, you let yourself smile—a small, cautious smile, but a smile nonetheless. And for the first time in months of radio silence, you type up your first reply to him.

You: Thanks, Yoongi. I’m really happy. :)

His reply came almost immediately.

Yoongi: You deserve it

And it may have taken a while, but you finally believe that. So you decide you are also finally ready to do this.

You: Can we talk? Yoongi: giv me 10 mins im cming overr

A/N:

Alright!! Wheeeew! You good? How are you feeling?!?!? As usual, please sound off in the comments. 💕

I just want to say that am so proud of this chapter. I think I wrote my best, angst work here. Plus - Kissing in the rain? Namtiddies? A taste of smau? Hee hee. 🤗

If you make it to here, thank you so so much for reading this story, you lovely, beautiful, human! xo

Part 4 is coming uppp and it’s gonna be a doozy~ 🤭

P.S. As some of y’all know I am a mom and I have experienced post-partum depression before. It was nowhere near the severity of how it is depicted here (a condition that is grave and rare because the character also has other mental struggles), but I empathize. I cannot imagine being truly unfit to care for my own baby. So I request that we do not vilify L&L! LSK. She fucked up real baddd, she could’ve involved Yoongi earlier, etc etc but again she is trying to do better. Plusss, it needs to be said, she does not want Yoongi. Gasp. Y’all can rest easy. He’s yours! 💕

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my masterlist. & If you enjoy my work and want to buy me a ko-fi, I'd appreciate it.

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025

@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk

@ryryvna @tea4sykes @mar-lo-pap @lilkittenjenjen

@captainchrisstan @thelittlecatonthecake

@flaneuseonthestreets @sexytholland @diamonddia-mond

@yronathaniel @as-hs-blog @amarssfanfic @mafersame @amarawayne

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@kookiewithluv @soop-sprite @hyukaluve

288 notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, hun! I love that you're requests are open!

Could I please request a fic where Eddie gets cold feet in a relationship with reader, or an old hook up comes along and he doesn't want to be exclusive, so she leaves and he doesn't think more of it until he hears, maybe a year later or so that she's gotten married and he's feeling the bitterness and sad over how he let something so good go?

Usually I love a happy ending but not in this case. Please and thank you!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Runaway Bride

"Do you ever think about getting married?" Y/N asked, her legs tangled with Eddie's under his sheet. Her finger traced shapes on his naked chest.

"Not really, I've always been scared of it, you know?" he answered. His hand rubbed up and down her back. "Do you?"

"All the time. I've been thinking about my wedding since I was young. The perfect dress and the perfect groom," she smiled. She turned her head to look at him, "Would you ever marry me?"

He smiled at the thought, picturing her in white as she walked towards him. Something about it made his stomach flutter. "Yeah, I'd marry you," he said. He beamed at the smile that took over her face.

"One day," she whispered before she placed her lips on his.

That was a year ago, and Y/N still held onto his words. Their relationship was still going strong and she fell in love harder every second.

"How was your day?" Eddie asked, his arms wrapped around her waist as she cleaned the dishes.

"It was good, I looked at flowers for the venue today," she smiled. Eddie kissed her shoulder, and his eye caught the diamond ring on her finger.

"Yeah? Did you pick a favorite?" he asked.

"I did, I have the examples in the bedroom," she said. She dried off her hands and turned around in his arms. She happily accepted the kiss he planted on her lips. "How's the shop?"

"Broken cars, same old. I'm a little more interested in something else right now," he smirked. She eyed his smirk, not surprised to feel his hands move down to her ass.

"What's that?" she edged on, her lips moving to his neck. His chest rumbled as a groan left his throat.

"Making love to my finacé," he said, his fingers dug into her sides. She laughed as he trapped her against the counter and tickled her sides. He scooped her up and raced to their bedroom as she laughed and screamed.

~~~

The closer the wedding got, the colder Eddie's feet became. He loved Y/N, but there was something in his gut whenever he remembered he'd be married to her forever. The thought was supposed to bring him comfort and excitement.

With the thoughts heavy on his mind and a twist in his gut, he got drunk at a sleazy bar. He wasn't sure how many shots he had, or how many times Y/N called. He kept going until he felt numb.

"Eddie?"

Eddie turned his head to see who called him, he shook his head as he could feel the room beginning to spin. He eyed the girl, a confused look on his face as he wondered how she knew him.

"Taylor, remember?" she giggled. The name rang a bell, and he looked her up and down. It took a few seconds but then it all clicked.

"Taylor!" Eddie smiled, his voice louder than he intended. He stood up, slightly stumbling over as the alcohol took its effect. She pulled him into a warm hug, and Eddie crushed her in his arms. Not realizing how badly he needed a hug.

Taylor sat and shared a few drinks with Eddie, listening to his rant about his fear of getting married. He was plastered, he forgot everything he said once it left his mouth and he knew the hangover was going to be brutal.

Eddie wasn't sure who asked or how it happened, but he moaned as he pushed himself inside of her. Her bed hit the wall as Eddie trusted inside of her. He shivered at the feeling of pleasure, for once the tightness in his stomach was a good thing.

The hangover was just as horrible as he thought. His head pounded as he rolled out of the unfamiliar bed. He slipped on his smelly clothes and left the house in a hurry.

Y/N was up all night terrified of why Eddie never came home. She figured his phone died after all the calls she left. She sat at the kitchen table, calling all their friends about Eddie's whereabouts when the man himself walked through the door.

"Jesus, Eddie! I've been worried sick!" She exclaimed, she jumped out of her chair and pulled him into a hug. She cringed at the strong smell of alcohol on his clothes and the smoke in his hair.

"Where have you been? Sleeping at a bar?" she asked pulling away, she looked him over. Worry in her eyes as she took in his disheveled state.

"I need a second," he said through his clenched teeth. His head was pounding so bad that he could barely stand. She helped him sit on the couch, running to grab him water.

"Do you need medicine?" She asked as she handed him the cup. She figured with the bar smell he had to be hungover, quickly grabbing aspirin from the bathroom.

He was groaning in pain, hunched over when she returned. She helped him take the medicine, sitting beside him.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" She asked, she had never seen Eddie in such a painful sight.

"No, I just need to sleep," he said in a whisper. She helped move him to the bedroom and planted him on the bed. Eddie felt the guilt eating him alive as she took care of him. She stripped off his clothes, changing him into something comfortable.

He woke up to the slam of a door. He thanked God that he could open his eyes. The pain in his head was gone, but the guilt settled in his stomach stayed.

"Hey, Eddie?"

He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N standing there, tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, quickly getting out from the sheets, and standing on his knees to hold her face.

"Who's Taylor?"

Eddie felt his body run cold. His mouth was dry as he licked his lips.

"Just a girl I knew back in the day. Why?" He nervously asked. It was clear he was caught, and he had no idea what to do.

"I found her number in your jeans," Y/N said, her voice nowhere as strong as it usually was. Eddie gulped as she handed him the small piece of paper.

"Why are you going through my jeans?" He was caught and all he knew to do was get defensive.

She scoffed and pushed her hands off of him. He caught himself as he balanced on the bed.

"That's your question?" She asked, her tears running down her face but her eyes were pissed. "I was being a good fiance and doing your damn laundry! So answer my question, why the fuck do you have a girl's number in your jeans?"

"I ran into her at the bar!" Eddie answered, standing up on his feet. "We talked and I didn't even know she slipped it in my jeans."

"You ran into her at a bar and came home the next morning," Y/N thought out loud. Eddie gulped as she began to pace. "No bullshit, just tell me, did you sleep with her?"

Eddie saw the anger vanish in her eyes, somehow her eyes turned blue as she began to cry. Eddie nodded, looking down at his feet.

"You son of a bitch!" She cried, Eddie looked up as he felt her hands beating at his chest. He tried to grab her hands but she was hitting him and crying hysterically. She began to sob, arms getting weak.

"I know! I know! Just breathe," he tried but she shoved him away.

"Don't tell me to breathe!" She snapped, "I can't believe you. Our wedding is barely a month away and you fucking cheat on me? Why? What could she possibly offer that I don't?"

"I panicked!" Eddie confessed, "I've been terrified for this wedding and I needed to cool off. So I went to the bar and got drunk. I barely knew what was happening, all I knew was that I didn't feel scared anymore."

"You're going to say you cheated on me because you got cold feet? WHY PROPOSE IF YOU ARE SO DAMN SCARED!"

"I thought it was what I wanted!" He cried, his sad eyes taking in her crying state. "I thought you were the one I wanted. But when I thought about being married, the commitment, and the kids. It all got too much."

"You don't want me anymore?" She cracked out

Eddie flinched at the cracks in her voice, her sobs turning into hiccups. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she shut her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Fuck you, Munson," she spat. She took a few deep breaths to collect herself. "I would like you to leave for 2 hours, so I can pack and leave. I don't want to see you. I don't want you to call me. And don't ever think of finding me."

He took the time to soak her in. The pressure on his body was gone, but at what cost? Breaking the heart of the only girl that loves him in and out?

"Please?" She whimpered as she turned around.

"Take your time," he said. He walked over to her, craving to touch her one last time. But when his hand made contact with her skin she was fast to run into the bathroom and slammed the door.

~~~

~Three years later~

"Can I grab a drink from the fridge?" Eddie asked, standing up. He was over at Steve and Robin's apartment, hanging out with them and Dustin.

"Yeah go right ahead," Robin said, her attention on the TV.

Eddie walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge he noticed a photo of the fridge. He stood up straight, yanking the picture down from its magnet. He felt this heaviness on his chest as he looked it over. It was Y/N, she looked beautiful.

He hadn't thought much about her since the day he came home and she was gone. Not a trace of her anywhere. He respected her wishes, he didn't try to find her and he never asked about her. He forgot they shared the same friends, and he felt a little hurt they kept in touch with her.

She wasn't alone in the picture; a man was behind her with his arms wrapped around her. The smile on her face was angelic; she was beaming with happiness. A big rock was on her finger, one completely different from the one he gave her. It was prettier and shiner, and it looked far more expensive.

"Save the date" was written across the bottom in a fancy font. He knew she'd move on and settle down, but he didn't think about how painful it would feel to see it happen—to see her in another man's arms.

"Yo what's taking so long?" Steve laughed as he walked in, freezing when Eddie turned holding the photo. Eddie blinked his eyes, hoping to ignore the water building in them.

"Shit, Robin was supposed to hide that," Steve said, snatching the photo out of his hand.

"It's alright. You shouldn't have to think about that," Eddie shrugged, "it's been three years, surprised it took this long to run into her somewhere." He let out a sad chuckle.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, a worried look in his eyes.

Eddie nodded. He truly wasn't. He spent so much time pushing their memories away that he forgot what it felt like to love her. And now it all came back, and he loved a girl who was getting married, and this time not to him.

"She looks happy," Eddie painfully smiled. Steve watched as Eddie wiped away a tear, he acted like he didn't see it. "Is he good to her?" His voice wavered slightly.

"Yeah, man. She's happy and taken care of," Steve nodded. A pitiful look in his eyes that made Eddie want to vomit.

"I think I need some air," Eddie said as he escaped. Steve sighed as the door slammed shut, putting the photo back on the fridge.

Eddie pulled out a cigarette, his hands shaking as he flicked the lighter. For three years he felt nothing. For three years he could sleep perfectly without thinking about her. He was still in the same house, easy as ever since she took everything that had a trace of her.

But now she ran through his head. The memories, the love, and the happiness. The glow she had when she walked into a room. If he didn't fuck it up, they would have married right now. He wonders if they'd have a kid running around and if they'd move into a bigger house.

As he inhaled the cigarette, he thought about the future he could have had. Even if it wasn't with him, he was happy she got her happy ending.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader

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mwuaferrari · 2 days ago

Text

FERRARI GIRL - LANDO NORRIS

summary: at carlos sainz's birthday party, lando meets a captivating woman who is part of carlos' close circle of friends. Instantly struck by her warmth and confidence, lando finds himself drawn to her in ways he doesn't fully understand.

pairing: lando norris x reader

warning: english is not my native language, so any spelling or writing error is the fault of the translator hehe.

I´M BAAAAACK

The place was alive with energy, music echoing through the spacious villa and laughter spilling out into the night air. Carlos’ birthday celebrations were in full swing, and his closest friends and family mingled effortlessly, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces.

She arrived late, fashionably so, stepping through the wide-open doors with a casual confidence that immediately drew attention. Carlos spotted her from across the room and waved her over enthusiastically, his arm slung over the shoulders of another friend.

“¡Por fin llegas!” (you finally arrive!) Carlos exclaimed, greeting her with a tight hug. “Ya estaba pensando que te olvidaste de mi cumpleaños” (I was starting to think you’d forgotten my birthday)

“Jamás” (never) she replied, grinning. “Me atrasé por el trabajo, pero sabes que no me lo perdería por nada” (Got held up at work, but I wouldn’t miss this.

He introduced her to the group around him, most of whom she already knew, except for one. Lando Norris.

Lando was mid-sip of his drink when Carlos gestured toward him. “And this is Lando—he’s part of the family now, I guess. You probably know who he is.”

She turned to him, her smile widening in recognition. “McLaren´s golden boy?”

Lando chuckled softly, setting his glass down. “Guilty as charged,” he said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She shook his hand, her grip firm but friendly. There was something about her that caught him off guard—a mix of confidence and warmth, paired with a sparkle in her eye that made him forget for a moment how to speak.

Carlos, blissfully unaware of the silent exchange, clapped Lando on the back. “Don’t let him fool you; he’s way more interesting off the track than on it.”

She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Oh? Care to elaborate?”

Lando blushed slightly, waving off Carlos’ teasing. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to embarrass me.”

Carlos laughed and turned his attention back to the group, leaving Lando and her to chat.

“So,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “What’s it like being part of the ‘family’ Carlos talks about? He’s so annoying, isn’t he?”

Lando relaxed a little at her lighthearted tone. “Oh, you have no idea. But I guess he’s worth the chaos. What about you? How do you survive being in this group?”

“Years of practice,” she replied with a mock-serious expression. “It’s all about knowing when to dodge Carlos’ pranks and when to just give in.”

Lando laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “I’ll keep that in mind. Any other survival tips?”

“Plenty,” she said, her smile teasing. “But you’ll have to stick around long enough to learn them all.”

Lando felt his heart skip a beat at her words, though he quickly tried to mask it with a confident grin. “Challenge accepted.”

They continued talking, the noise of the party fading into the background as they delved into an easy, flowing conversation. For the first time in a while, Lando found himself genuinely captivated—not by a race, not by a victory, but by someone who seemed to see him as just another guy at a party.

And as the night wore on, he couldn’t help but think this might be the best birthday party he’d ever attended—not because of the celebration itself, but because he’d met her.

…

The days following Carlos’ birthday party felt like a blur for Lando. Between training sessions, media obligations, and sponsor meetings, his mind was on autopilot. Yet, every now and then, a thought would creep in, derailing his focus entirely: her smile.

It wasn’t just her smile, though. It was the way she spoke with an ease that put him at peace, the way she teased Carlos as though she’d known him forever, and the way her eyes seemed to hold a quiet depth, as if she understood the world in ways others didn’t.

He found himself scrolling mindlessly through his phone one evening, laying on the couch in his apartment, the TV murmuring in the background. His thumb hovered over Carlos’ contact. Should I? he thought. Asking for her number felt… bold. Presumptuous, even.

“Mate, just do it,” he muttered to himself, groaning as he dropped the phone onto his chest. “It’s not a big deal.” Except, to him, it was.

After another ten minutes of mental back-and-forth, Lando sat up abruptly, picking up his phone again and tapping Carlos’ name. He typed a message, erased it, typed it again, and then sighed heavily before hitting send.

Lando: Hey, Carlos. Random question, but do you think you could give me your friend’s number? The one from your party? No worries if not.

The response came quicker than expected.

Carlos: Which one? You mean y/n?

Lando’s pulse quickened.

Lando: Yeah, her. If it’s okay with her, of course.

Carlos didn’t reply right away, and in that silence, Lando second-guessed every choice that had led to this moment. He was about to follow up, maybe even backpedal entirely, when his phone buzzed.

Carlos: She said it’s fine. Here you go…

Lando stared at the screen, his heart doing an odd little flip. She’d said yes. That had to be a good sign, right? He copied the number into his contacts, hesitating again as he stared at her name.

What should he say? Something casual? Something funny?

After a moment, he typed out a message and hit send before he could overthink it any more.

Lando: Hey, it’s Lando. Carlos gave me your number, hope that’s okay. I just thought it’d be nice to keep in touch.

The seconds ticked by, and he was already regretting his choice of words when his phone buzzed.

Y/n: Hey! Of course it’s okay. I was wondering when I’d hear from you.

Lando let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a grin spreading across his face. Maybe this wasn’t so scary after all.

…

Lando was lounging on the plush sofa in McLaren's team lounge, his legs stretched out lazily as he typed away on his phone. A small, content smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he read her latest reply.

Y/n: Wait, so you actually thought pineapple on pizza was a good idea?

He chuckled softly, quickly firing back a reply.

Lando: Listen, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Elite taste buds only.

He could almost picture her rolling her eyes as she typed her response, and the thought made his grin widen.

“Alright, mate. Who’s got you looking like that?” Max Fewtrell’s voice cut through Lando’s bubble, teasing and curious.

Lando jolted slightly, instinctively locking his phone screen as if he’d been caught doing something incriminating. “What are you on about?” he asked, trying—and failing—to sound nonchalant.

Max plopped down on the sofa beside him, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been sitting there smiling at your phone like some lovesick teenager for the last ten minutes. Spill.”

“I’m not—” Lando started, but Max gave him a knowing look, arms crossed, waiting. Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. It’s just... someone I met recently.”

Max’s face lit up with excitement. “Ah-ha! I knew it. Who is she? Is she fit? Of course she’s fit—she’s got you giggling like an idiot.”

Lando groaned, trying to dodge the interrogation. “Can you not make this a thing? It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a thing,” Max countered, grinning. “So, where’d you meet her? Tell me everything. What’s her name? Does she know you’re you?”

Lando rolled his eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it. “She’s a friend of Carlos’,” he admitted reluctantly. “We met at his birthday party.”

Max leaned back, nodding approvingly. “A friend of Carlos’. Okay, solid start. So, what’s the game plan? When are you seeing her again?”

“Don’t know yet,” Lando said, glancing back at his phone when it buzzed. Her latest message lit up his screen.

Y/n: You’re lucky you’re funny, Norris. I’ll let this pineapple thing slide….for now.

The smile returned to his face before he could help it.

Max smirked. “Mate, you’ve got it bad. Just don’t screw it up, yeah?”

Lando shook his head, chuckling. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Max.”

Max gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Anytime, lover boy. Anytime.”

…

Then the day came. After weeks of messaging and playful banter through their phones, he was finally going to see her again. Lando had tried not to think too much about it, but now that the moment had arrived, he felt the same nervousness he had when they first met at Carlos's party.

The paddock was its usual whirlwind of activity, with mechanics, drivers, and journalists rushing around. She was leaning casually against a barrier, chatting animatedly with Carlos and another friend from their group. On her head, she wore a red Ferrari cap emblazoned with the number 55—a clear sign of her loyalty to the Spanish driver.

Lando spotted her from the other side of the paddock. His heart was racing faster than he’d like to admit. He had managed to greet her that morning with a barely audible “hi” before she turned her attention back to Carlos, and since then, he hadn’t been able to shake the thought of going up to her.

“Come on, mate, just go say hi. She won’t bite,” Max Fewtrell said, grinning as he toyed with a water bottle beside Lando.

“Easier said than done,” Lando muttered, scratching the back of his neck, trying to look distracted.

“For crying out loud, you’re a Formula 1 driver. You literally race at 300 kilometers an hour, and you can’t walk ten steps to talk to a girl? Pathetic.”

“She’s not just any girl,” Lando mumbled, his gaze inevitably drifting back to her. She was laughing at something Carlos had said, her smile lighting up the space around her—or at least that’s how it seemed to him.

Max let out an exaggerated sigh and gave him a friendly shove. “Then do something. Or I’ll go over there and tell her you’ve been standing here like an idiot, staring at her.”

“Don’t you dare!” Lando whipped around, alarmed.

Max burst out laughing, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, mate. But seriously, don’t waste time. It’s not like Carlos is going to hand-deliver her to you. Make a move already.”

Taking a deep breath, Lando grabbed his orange McLaren cap from his back pocket and started walking toward her. Each step felt heavier than the last, like he was carrying the weight of the entire paddock on his shoulders.

By the time he reached her, she was still engrossed in her conversation, completely unaware of his presence. Carlos noticed him first, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

“Hey, Lando. What are you doing just standing there?” Carlos teased, dragging out his words with obvious intent, clearly enjoying the moment.

She turned then, her eyes locking with Lando’s. “Oh, hi, Lando!” she greeted him with the same warmth she always did.

For a moment, Lando froze, his mind completely blank. Finally, he raised the orange cap in his hand. “I think you’re wearing the wrong hat.” Before she could react, he swiftly swapped her Ferrari cap for his McLaren one.

She blinked, momentarily stunned, before bursting into laughter. “Oh, really? Is this some kind of declaration of war?”

“Something like that,” Lando replied, scratching the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks flush. Carlos chuckled and walked away, leaving them to it.

She adjusted the orange cap, looking at him with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Bad boy isn’t really your vibe, but I appreciate the effort.”

Lando relaxed a little at her laugh. “Well, someone had to save you from that awful red cap.”

“Awful?” she said, feigning offense, though her smile betrayed her. “I guess I’ll have to get my cap back by any means necessary.”

“Good luck with that.” Lando finally grinned, the initial awkwardness melting away bit by bit.

It was a small gesture, just a simple exchange of words, but in that moment, the noise of the paddock seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in the midst of the chaos.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagines #lando norris x you

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missnightshade · 3 days ago

Text

❝ I WILL REMAIN, LOVE ❞

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Lilia's trial ends with an - almost - irreversible consequence for Agatha's lover.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Almost death experience. Mentions of blood, blades and death (aka Rio). Non canon. English not being my first language.

Word count: 2k and something.

The path narrowed as the Coven walked through it. Looking forward at the long-haired witch that had your heart, you felt that Agatha no longer held the confidence she once had while summoning the Witche's Road. Both of you knew, for sure, that the whole song was a catch. A nice, petty, centuries old trap Agatha created in hopes to gain enough power to bring Nicky back.

A witch’s life was never easy. Just as the world was a malleable cruel thing, so was the days that these powerful women had to go through. Things changed between almost four hundred years back and now, walking this makeshift magical road. Nothing was as it used to be. Yet, Agatha was the only constant in all of the eras of your life. One that didn’t need a real label for you to know that, no matter what happened, it was the two of you against the world.

As the time passed and your legs grew tired, your attention shifted to the teen boy. It wasn’t needed for Agatha to tell you that she, too, was suspicious he was the one manipulating all of that. Agatha was powerless, and you knew it wasn’t you. Jen, Alice and Lilia were powerful, but not enough to bend reality to fit their own agenda.

But Teen, or Billy, emanated strong ancient magic. It was applaudable how the seams between his mind and the reality were almost unnoticeable

“He doesn’t know.” you guessed, falling into Agatha’s steps as the rest of the coven stayed behind, carelessly discussing something trivial.

“What gave it away, love?” she smiled, but her mind was far, far away.

“He got himself deadly hurt. He would have to be insanely dumb to trust one of us would cure him.

“Maybe he is just a dumb boy...” Agatha started out playfully, but seeing your serious face, the shine in her eyes died. You hoped for it to come back. “I know. And this makes...everything harder.”

You felt the witch rambling inside, wishing to measure the weight of explaining her worries, but as she opened her mouth, a cold, sickining body passed between the two of you, harshly separating your shoulders. Rio's sinister smile echoed inside your mind, like she could indeed penetrate herself there. As the sharp blade of hers slid down the middle of her tongue, evil, inviting, you felt the path ahead tuneling before you.

“I see you in the next trial, Y/N.”

And right there, towering in front of both of you as Rio skipped happily towards it, was a dim lit castle with its imponent tower screaming at you. Your steps halted, and Agatha almost bumped into you. You couldn't notice as Rio’s aura still held you hostage there, but your partner, your companion, your constant, eyed you as if she could actually force you out of the road. She knew, you knew, but no one dared to say a thing, afraid of the consequences.

Inside the castle, the clothes changed drastically, almost as you were in a disney witches' reunion. A table of tarot reading stood in the middle of the room, and as Teen rounded the corner, Lilia stopped there.

‘It’s my trial. I should read it.”

There was no questioning, but as the first card was laid upwards on the table, a sharp sword crashed down right by your side. Arms full of worry pulled you in, and your body rested against a scared Agatha. Her heartbeat was rapid against your touch, but as you glanced at RIo, she was nowhere to be found. The celling, full of swords, was just now noticed as the trial’s count down began, lowering above the coven’s head.

“I think we need something more...” desesperadly, Agatha took the deck of cards from Lilia. “Imediate.”

She started to lay cards as if her life depended on it. And, at some point, it did. But card after card, mistake after mistake, more and more swords fell. Some not around you, but mostly too close to be safe.

“Agatha!” Teen screamed, stopping her. “It’s not by chance. This has to be done right.”

The deck of cards was, again, in Lilia’s hand. Even though she managed to find out who the reading reading was for, as the last card was placed and the celling stopped lowering, a heartless, mounstruous sound erupted around the room. Agatha looked behind, breathless, pushing you towards the exit that popped open.

“The Seven are here. Hurry. Everyone out!"

Lilia intended to be the last one out, but as Jen pulled her, there was only you, teen, and Agatha behind. You didn’t notice, but a quiet, sly snake rounded the corner of a pillar, morphing quickly into one of Agatha’s old nemeses. The scare made you tremble, steps a mess as you tried to block down an attack with your own powers. A flash of light sent you and them apart, and as the snake met the side of a blade, you met the other, both fallen from the trial. The sharp pain erupted, but looking behind, Agatha was as surrounded by another four of them. Lilia screamed something that only Teen managed to understand, and as he blasted both of you out, the main card was turned upside down, in time only for him to jump out of the door before the whole trial turned and screams of impaled witches were heard.

The instant died down. Nothing besides agitated breaths could be heard between all of the coven members. You, on the other side, could barely hear anything. Agatha’s voice calling for you was far away, and although you tried to answer, you choked in blood, the taste of the ironed fluid filling your mouth.

“What?” Teen asked Alice, who stared at him like a ghost was right above his shoulders. As he held you still, the protection witch could only point out to your own body falling against Billy’s, pale face, coughing blood till your whole figure hit the floor.

Agatha eyes were shining with tears. The leaves from the trees in Salem that spring were vivid, but not like her eyes. At that time, you couldn’t bring yourself to say something as deeply as “I love you” to the Harkness heir. And as your death seeped into your whole existence, the fear of losing her friendship felt...ridiculous. Her tears fell onto your body. Pierced through with Evanora Harkness’ magic for simply being her daughter support, you were sure that there was no better reason to die.

“Please, Sunshine. Stay with me. It will be okay.” Agatha cried and cried, cradling your body into her arms. Holding you for her dear life, your body slowly became more and more heavy against her lap.

“Shh..Aggy. Don’t cry.” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. There was no physical damage, but your insides rotted by the minute. “This is honestly the best option to die. In your arms, you know?”

She scoffed, trying to pull your head up as if a miracle would happen. She was not only sad and griefing but also mad and frustrated.

“Don’t be stupid. You’re not going to die.”

You regarded her tiredly, too tired to even speak. But you knew that there was no way death would collect you before Agatha was sure it wasn’t her fault. And how loved she was.

“Aggy...this is unfruitful. We both know it.” you swallowed your desperation to part ways with the living world. “Just hear me out, Angel. You were the best, best thing I could have in my life. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Don’t forget that. I would die a thousand times in your arms.”

She blinked, tears falling onto your forehead. Last time, your voice grounded her as her own magic saved your from death. But now, as Rio appeared again, there was nothing from you besides the blood that ran to the floor from a large perforation you suffered from falling against the tip of a sword without even noticing in all that commotion. Agatha blamed herself again. You were on the road because of her. Because of her restless search for power. Looking at your pale face and shallow breath almost dissipating, she felt for the first time in her life since her son’s birth that she didn’t need any magic if she could, perhaps, keep you.

“You know you can’t.” Rio’s voice echoed, but as the witches around your lifeless body moved around to recreate the spell used on Billy, Agatha stared at her. “You walked hand in hand with me for so long, Agatha. You, above anyone, should understand how life and death works.“

“Don’t!”, the witches voice screamed back, and the strength it held made Rio stop marching forward. “She can’t die. It’s not her time.”

“But it is.” death answered, showing her half skull face only Agatha could see. “She gave you everything. Her time has been completed.”

“No!” she didn’t plead. Tired of all the centuries serving as a cunt to give her more and more bodies even after having her son taken from her, it felt unfair. “That’s enough.”

Agatha didn’t waste another minute there, succumbing to Rio’s words. She cried out for Jen. Vulnerable, broken, the coven fell into a rhythm of trying the ritual over and over again, but not only the moonlit water fell onto your body, but also your partner’s tears as she was left disheveled from pleading to the Mother to keep your life. It was a side of Agatha Hakness no one had seen. No one besides Y/N and Rio. Yet, as the hole on your body closed, no one exactly knew what would be of you. Rio stood there, overing your body.

“She will be alright.” Teen reassured Agatha almost three hours later, giving her some of the berries he found on the road.

She wanted to curse him for putting you into that situation, but then again, the Salem Seven were her fault. A moment passed as your body was kept close to the fire. On the sidelines, Death eyed you, protected by Agatha’s love, something that she despised you for. The blue eyed witch gazed at you.

“You care for her.” Lilia said, voice flowing with the wind. “Like you never cared for anyone.”

“Just one person, besides her. My son.” she smiled sadly. It was the first time mentioning him, but the truth was just as painful as the current reality. The coven, her found coven, listened to it. “And Y/N helped me navigate all of that. Back from Salem to now. But this is not the first time i almost killed her.”

“If you are going to talk about our story...” a faint, tired, almost really dead voice startled them. Rio had disappeared again, but Y/N’s eyes flashed from her place on the floor. “At least wake me up.”

The others laughed tearfully, relieved, but as Agatha rushed to your side, still a mess of hair, tears and dried mud, they gathered the fire away from them.

“Y/N...sunshine. I’m...”

“Don’t, love. Don’t even think of it.” the maimed witch intercepted, reaching out just one hand to touch her left cheek. Her thumb caressed her face. “I’m here. And I'm not going anywhere. It's not easy to free yourself from me.”

“And i don’t want to.”, her lips pressed against your forehead, kissing it before pecking your lips. “I’m sorry I keep drowning you into my mess. This is unaceptable.”

“Aggy. Please, stop.” even laying down, you could still command her with those sweet eyes. “It’s not your fault.’

“But...”

“No buts. Now, come here.”

As you gently pulled Agatha down, her arms were protective around you. Your body still ached, but as your heartbeat fell into the same rhythm of Agatha’s, there was no doubt you would survive. With your head on her chest, your heavy eyes fell onto the image of the coven exchanging a cup of water they found. Behind them, the shadow of Death blinked slowly at you, turning her back before cutting Billy’s reality to step out.

It wasn’t over, but the worst was.

"I love you." Her voice hummed against your hair.

And you would do all over again for her.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha coven of chaos

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corroded-hellfire · 2 days ago

Note

Hii I love your work I was wondering I have a request for a AYW blurb/side story. I'm inspired by the hockey game I just went to

So let's say luke is in college or in high-school and he has hid first game and reader gets mildly anxious that he gets hurt and eddie reassures her everything going to be okay and he wins and they all go out to dinner.

Idk just something fluffy.

Thank you

Hockey?! Now you're speaking my language. I can't believe I never thought of Luke playing hockey before. Thank you for putting this in my brain!

Words: 2.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Magenta painted toes curl inside your thick, fluffy socks. The little girl who applied the shiny polish the other day stands on the metal bleacher, between you and your husband. Her little knees bend and straighten as she bounces up and down, two curly pigtails bobbing along with the motion below the soft pink beanie on her head.

“Let’s go, Luke!” Eliza cheers. Small brown boots stamp on the metal surface below her as she claps her mitten-clad hands.

Eddie chuckles from the other side of her, one arm hovering around her small frame in case she loses her balance. The hockey game hasn’t even started yet and Eliza is ready to hand her big brother the MVP award.

The chill from the ice rink soaks into your skin even through the layers of your long-sleeved tee and jacket. Your gloves seem to do nothing to keep your fingers from turning into icicles, so you tuck your hands between your thighs, hoping the body warmth can thaw them out.

“You okay, babe?” Eddie asks, leaning back to look at you around your four-year-old.

The nod you give isn’t convincing, even to yourself. You couldn’t be prouder of Luke for making the Hawkins High School hockey team as a freshman, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t worried about him getting hurt. The fresh batch of pregnancy hormones coursing through your system isn’t helping matters either.

An obnoxious buzzer blares from the speakers on the wall as the scoreboard sets itself down to all zeroes. The crowd full of families and friends starts cheering as the two teams pour out onto the ice. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eliza become airborne and you look to see Eddie lifting her over his lap so she’s standing in between him and Ryan instead of him and you. A steady arm wraps around you, and you gladly lean into your husband’s embrace.

“He’s going to be fine,” Eddie tells you.

“I know.”

“Yeah? Because you look like you’re about to storm onto the ice and drag Luke home by the collar of his jersey.”

You release a deep sigh and try to get your tense shoulders to relax.

“He’s played sports before,” you say, sounding more like you’re convincing yourself than the man next to you. “Baseball, basketball. But this is different.”

“Why’s that?” Eddie knows exactly what’s different–it’s your usual protective Mama Bear energy enhanced tenfold due to your fluctuating hormone levels. But he isn’t dumb enough to come out and say that—again.

“Because,” you huff. “Now there are blades and sticks and boards he could be slammed into or ice he can fall down on.”

Eddie rubs his hand up and down your shoulder. It helps both comfort you and warm you up.

“There are sticks in baseball,” he points out. “They’re just called ‘bats.’ And he’s fallen and skinned his knees both running the bases and on the basketball court. As for being slammed into the boards?” Eddie lets out a breathy chuckle. “That would be nothing compared to having little She-Hulk over here as a sister.”

You let out a small giggle, peeking around your husband to see Eliza enthusiastically shaking Ryan’s shoulder, pointing to where number 86 is out on the ice, warming up.

“I guess that goes for any hockey fights, too,” you say.

“See? Now you’re getting it.” Eddie smiles fondly at you and places a kiss against your temple.

A referee blows a whistle and both you and Eddie watch as the two teams take their places for the first face-off of the game.

Luke’s best friend Sean skates up to the blue line, right in the center and ready to battle for the puck. Next to his number 19 jersey is Luke to his side as the right winger. The referee drops the puck and the game begins.

Both your and Eddie’s eyes are glued to your son as play moves around the ice. Your gazes follow him up the ice and back down before he hops onto the bench for a shift change. Without her brother now to focus on, Eliza comes up with a new way to entertain herself: a cheer.

“Let’s go, Tigers!” Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

It only takes two turns of her cheering before the home crowd joins in, leaving the little girl beaming, proud to have started the trend. She’s no stranger to different cheers for the team; whenever Luke plays basketball, Eliza only cares to focus on the cheerleaders doing their routines on the sidelines. Ryan tends to pay a lot of attention to them too, but for different reasons. By now, Eliza could probably mimic most of Hawkins High’s cheerleading repertoire.

A few minutes later, Luke hops back on the ice and you feel the nerves flutter in your stomach. It’s a very different, and distinctly more unpleasant, feeling than the fluttering of having a baby in there.

“He’s okay,” Eddie murmurs to you, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the rink.

You nod, but slip your hand into his for reassurance, nonetheless.

“Mama?” Eliza crawls over her father’s lap, clearly not paying attention to where her bony little limbs are jabbing him, and reaches out to you. “I gotta go potty.”

A battle of emotions collide in your head as you nod and offer your hand to her. One part of you is thankful to get a small distraction from the game, your eyes able to relax instead of seeking out Luke’s constant presence. The other part of you is worried that something will happen while you’re not there, though. As if him getting a hard cross check from an opposing player wouldn’t have occurred if you were still in your seat.

The ladies’ room is mildly warmer than the rest of the rink, and you lean on the outside of the stall door that Eliza goes into.

“You okay by yourself in there?” you ask.

“Mhmm! Wait. Can you hold my mittens?”

Once the stall door is relocked, you slip the pink mittens into your jacket pocket and listen as Eliza begins to hum a tune to herself. It’s difficult to tell at first, but you’re able to identify the song as I’ll Make a Man Out of You from Mulan.

After Eliza finishes up, washes her hands, and slips her mittens back on, the two of you step out of the restroom. Before you’re able to take two steps in the direction of your seats, a horn blares, signaling a goal.

Eliza gasps and quickly tugs on the hem of your jacket because she’s too small to see what’s going on over the wall. You scoop her up and the two of you stand at the glass, near the net that was just scored upon. Both of you cheer when you see that it was the Tigers who got the first goal. Luke is sitting on the bench on the other side of the ice though, so you know he wasn’t the one who scored it.

When the two of you get back to your seats, the first period is coming to an end. Eliza settles comfortably in her father’s lap and tilts her head to look up at him.

“What we miss?”

“Uh, Luke knocked a guy down against the wall over there.”

“Luke hit a guy into the boards,” Ryan translates into proper hockey terminology, smirking at his dad as he does so.

“That’s what I said,” Eddie says. “And, uh, there was a penalty called on Sean for sticking a guy, so he went to sit out.”

Ryan snorts. “Sean’s stick got caught in another guy’s skates, so he got a penalty for tripping and was in the penalty box.”

“Time out!” Eliza declares.

“Am I speaking Japanese?” Eddie asks, making Eliza giggle and curl into his lap.

“Of course not,” you assure your husband with a pat to his chest. “Just not speaking hockey either.” You giggle when he shoots a playful glare your way. But you manage to make it better by pressing a few kisses along his stubbled cheek.

During both the first and second intermissions, Eliza entertains herself by looking for friends of Ryan’s or Luke’s in the stands and begging her oldest brother to take her to them. At one point, Eliza spots Ryan’s more-than-friend-not-quite-girlfriend-yet, Hannah, a few rows back and quickly makes her way up to her. Ryan’s face blooms scarlet as he follows behind his little sister, who has made herself comfortable in Hannah’s lap.

“Did you see Lukey?” Eliza asks the teenage girl.

“I did!” Hannah says, smiling at Ryan as he takes a seat next to her.

Eddie leans in, his breath tickling your ear. “Do you think Eliza will ask Hannah to go out with Ryan before he gets around to it?”

You agree with a soft giggle and nod.

“Oh, absolutely. Ryan’s so nervous and Eliza doesn’t have the patience for that,” you say. “God help any boy who is slow to ask her out in high school.”

Strong hands grab your sides, thick fingers digging into your ribs as your husband tickles you. A small yelp escapes your lips before you turn and burrow your head into Eddie’s neck.

“Hush your mouth,” Eddie murmurs. “Eliza isn’t going to date until she’s thirty.”

“Good luck with that.” You laugh and playfully shove his hands away from you.

Just as the third period is about to begin, Eliza and Ryan make their way back towards the two of you on the bleachers. Ryan has a lovesick smile on his face and the sight makes you smile in return.

“Have fun with the big kids?” Eddie asks as Eliza plops down next to him.

“Mhmm,” she nods, brown eyes scanning the ice for where Luke is. “Hannah say she likes my hat. And Juan said Mama is really cute.”

“What?” Eddie asks, arm immediately encircling you. “Who?”

“Ryan’s friend.” Eliza waves a dismissive hand in the boy’s direction, her focus still on the ice.

Eddie goes to look over his shoulder but you quickly grip his chin between your thumb and forefinger and bring his gaze back to meet yours.

“Really?” you ask him quietly. It’s impossible to suppress the amused smile on your lips. “Are you going to stare down a sixteen-year-old boy?”

“I don’t need a younger man hitting on my wife,” he says.

You laugh, shaking your head at his ever-present jealousy.

“I don’t know if you noticed,” you say, “but I like older men. And no one is hitting on me.”

“Yet,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Shoot it, Luke!”

Ryan’s shout refocuses your and Eddie’s attention back on the game in front of you. Luke stick handles the puck past a defenseman and skates closer to the opposing team’s net. You hold your breath as you watch Luke wind back his stick and slap the puck to the five-hole, between the goalie’s pads. Time moves in slow motion as you watch the black rubber disc travel over the goal line.

The siren blares and you stand up, raising your arms in the air as you cheer for your son.

“That’s my boy!” Eddie shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“That’s my brotherrrrrr!” Eliza mimics.

Ryan hoots and hollers as you clap enthusiastically, a huge smile on your face.

The other Tigers hockey players on the ice skate over to Luke, either tapping him on the leg or ass with their stick or knocking their helmet against his.

The PA system overhead crackles to life before a student announcer says, “Goal scored by number eighty-six, Luke Munson!”

The crowd cheers, punctuated by a certain little girl’s shrill “Yay!”

“Assisted by number nineteen, Sean Lowery, and number four, Alex Duffy!”

“Yay, Sean!” Eliza yells.

Luke’s goal ends up being the game-winning goal, which causes his team to pile on top of him once the game is over.

“They’re going to hurt him,” you mumble as you stand up from the bleachers.

Eddie rolls his eyes, not unkindly, from his seat—he knows you won’t be able to see him since you’re standing. Your husband rises to his feet and presses a kiss to your temple.

“He’s fine, princess.”

He is, of course, and you’re glad to see it for yourself when he comes out of the locker room. A beaming smile adorns his face as he bounds towards the four of you, his curls soaked with sweat and his heavy gear bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Did you see it?” he asks excitedly.

“See it?” Eddie repeats, eyebrows raising. “Didn’t you hear us?”

“I heard someone,” Luke teases, tugging Eliza’s pink beanie down over her eyes.

She huffs and quickly pushes it back up, giving her big brother one of her signature unamused glares.

“I’m so proud of you!” You take Luke’s face, flushed from all the exertion, between your hands and press kisses over his sticky-with-dried-sweat face.

“Gross,” Ryan mumbles.

Misinterpreting why Ryan thinks the display of emotion is gross, Eliza turns to her oldest brother with her hands on her hips.

“Kisses not gross!” She hops up and down, making fish lips, like she’s trying to jump up to his level to give him kisses.

“Um, some kisses are gross,” Luke says once you’ve finished. When Eliza looks over at him, Luke’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Eddie.

“Prepare to be disgusted then,” Eddie says, slipping one arm around your back and pulling your front flush up against his. He grins at you before lowering his head to slot his lips over yours.

“Ugh!” “Ew!” “Stooooop!”

You laugh against Eddie’s mouth, and the two of you break apart, sharing an amused look.

“Alright, goblins,” Eddie says, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get going.”

The five of you start moving toward the exit when you tap Luke on the shoulder.

“Where do you want to go to dinner?” you ask him.

“Why does he get to pick?” Eliza whines.

“You can pick when you get a game-winning goal,” Ryan tells her, tugging on a single curly pigtail. Eliza pouts, looking suspiciously identical to her father, and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Uhh…” Luke muses as your family steps out into the chilly October night. “I want Chinese food. Let’s get Eliza a pu pu platter.”

“Blech!” Your daughter sticks her tongue out and shakes her head.

“Oh God, she’s going to steal everyone’s noodles again,” Ryan sighs.

Eliza lets out the evilest giggle you’ve ever heard come from her as you reach the car.

“I want all the noo-noos!” she declares as she yanks the back door open.

“I’m ordering rice then,” Luke says as he climbs in behind her.

“Boo!” Eliza calls.

“These kids are crazy,” Ryan says with a shake of his head.

Eddie laughs and musses up Ryan’s hair. It’s harder now that Ryan is almost as tall as him.

“Okay, let’s get this hockey celebration on the road,” Eddie says, tapping the roof of the car as he walks around to the driver’s side.

“Burn rubber, Gretsky,” you say as you slip into the passenger’s seat.

Eddie glances at you before turning the key in the ignition.

“Who?”

“Jesus, Dad,” Ryan sighs.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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yuuuuuuslazy · 2 days ago

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Christmas, Airports and Coffee *⁠˘⁠♡◍⁠✧⁠*⁠。

Husband!Scoups x fem!reader

Genre : fluff

Warnings : very fluffy

Leaning on your husband’s shoulder while he finishes some work, for the second time your flight has been delayed. A trip to Norway planned by your husband as a surprise for your 5th anniversary wasn’t going what you’d call smooth. First of all, the roads were jammed with cars even though it was 3am in the morning. After you arrived at the airport with just enough time to eat and check in your bags, your flight has been delayed by a whopping 5 hours.

5 hours.

After that, when you and seungcheol went for some very early breakfast, a kid who was running around had bumped into you and spilled water. Right after that you heard the system's sweet voice stating that your flight will be delayed for another two hours.

And that makes 7 hours.

You considered going back home but calling your sister back to pick you two up again….she wouldn’t be pleased especially when she’s got an early date to prepare for.

So here you are, two hours into the wait while lounging in the waiting area. Seungcheol decided to finish the worked he had planned for after the trip so he doesn’t have to stress about it too much later on. You don’t know how he gets anything done while you pester him and play with his face, but he’s doing it. Man is everything. As your whine about being bored for the nth time, he closes his laptop and takes out his wallet, whips out his very shiny black card and allows you to go buy yourself set of Lego at the Lego vending machine.

“Go on, I saw the way you looked at that machine sweetheart. Or maybe you want to go on a walk?”

Your luggage wasn’t with you anymore so it’s just a backpack and your handbag. Minutes later you found yourself getting a piggy back ride on your husband’s back while he walks through the airport to pass some time. He was getting tired of staring an excel sheet anyways.

You met in high school, where seungcheol was the senior you’d sneak upstairs to peek at during lunch break. Safe to say you were caught and successfully married your high school crush. You started a business together, and it got so successful that he’s now the richest 1% in the country. You always tell yourself you did a great job serving as his secretary and wife. Four years of dating and he asked you to marry him, which of course you said yes.

As he approached the Lego vending machine, you jumped off his back and skipped towards the machine, scanning through the items again.

“They’re so expensive…”

Yeah, that’s what you told the man who bought you a Steinway piano on a random day after you mentioned that it looks pretty.

The man- uh, your man scoffed and pressed the button for the biggest set available after swiping his card at the scanner. Your Lego tuxedo cat plopped on the moving surface as it brings down your set. Seeing you happy like a child with a set of toys to play with made him feel something furry inside.

Before he could ask you where you wanted to go, you grabbed his hand a dragged him to a chocolate store nearby. He loves spoiling you, especially when sometimes he can’t spend time with you due to being caught up with work. He buys you things and takes you places while being a great husband ; you make him his favorites meals then help him de-stress after coming home from the very infuriating clients.

After the gift store, the cafe, the clothing store and a cat petting pop up booth that’s at the airport for some reason, you clutched your newly adopted plushie while still holding his hand, walking back to the waiting area as you talked about nothing and everything.

So you burned a few hundred from his card that’s like a few cents to him. He always insisted that you must have everything and got you the fattest diamond ring you’ve ever seen in your life for your wedding.

From your dress, the venue, heck even your eyelashes costed so much. Yet that hardly put a scratch on his account it was like grocery shopping for him.

Deciding that the carpeted floor by the waiting area would be a great place to sit on, you plopped down and started to build your tuxedo cat. How cute it even purrs when you turn the head!

One hour of Lego and few uncomfortable sleeping positions that made you look like a shrimp later, it’s 45 minutes away from boarding. Finally!! You peeked at the large glass windows and saw white spots falling down. Oh yeah…you were supposed to reach by Christmas, but here you are still back home. You two decided that you should eat something before boarding. He went to order while you waited by the windows of the cosy cafe. Coffee, snow, and your husband. What else can be better?

“Sweetheart”

“Yeah?”

You didn’t think he’d pull a move like that. His soft lips now on yours, although you were in a cafe, but of course you kissed back while catching eye of the girls in the corner fangirling over the scene. Maybe it was your broad shoulders six pack 180cm rich cold looking CEO who whines and pouts because you didn’t kiss him good morning of a husband? They can’t exactly see his build under his fluffy coat but oh that face card never declines.

Cheesy, but it made the butterflies in your tummy go wild when he kissed you as the clocks struck twelve, signaling the arrival of Christmas.

“Merry Christmas love” you heard as he pulled out a little jewelry box. Upon opening it was the most beautiful necklace you’d ever seen in your life. You knew better than to believe that it was cheap when you asked him. The less you see the logo of the brand the more expensive it is when your santa is seungcheol. Of course you prepared to a surprise for him too, but that’s for when you check into a hotel. (Iykyk)

Your trip to see the northern lights started when you boarded the first class seats with Netflix on the tvs. The divider could not stop your husband from giving you kisses.

It may be simple but everyday with him felt special in its own way even if you just lounged at home lazily while your fluffy cat tried to snuggle between you both for the warmth. This must be what happens when you marry someone who loves you more than anyone, or anything.

An argument breaks out from the couple in front of your, seemingly from money as the air stewardess came and asked them to keep it down.

“Love, I want you to know that all the money and power I have, I’d burn it to ashes as if it meant we would stay together forever”

Blushing hard although you’ve heard loving words from your husband on a daily basis

"May I make a Christmas wish?”

“Of course”

“Might I request to be your Mrs.Choi again in the next life, and every life to come even if we were to be rocks?”

Soft laughter swallowed the tense atmosphere the couple infront of you gave off as you two started to look through the free stuff the airline had provided with the first class seats, knowing his answer would always be yes. Yes, anything for his princess.

"you'll always be my girl, okay?"

#scoups x reader #scoups #svt x reader #svt oneshot #seungcheol x reader #scoups oneshot #seungcheol fluff

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harrywavycurly · 1 day ago

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Loving a Killer: Tuesdays are for Dancing

Masterlist: Here

Pairing: Killer!Harry x wife!reader

Tag List: @umadirectioner

CW: Language, mentions of ways to harm someone, mentions of weapons, mentions of drugs (it’s a pain medication that Harry doesn’t know about), threats, and as always Harry and Mitch kill people for a living in this series.

A/N: I had to come up with a way to introduce y’all to Niall and this just seemed to fit? It’s dramatic but in a fun-ish way or at least in a fun way for this series.

Summary: Mitch gets a call while him and Harry are at work and it leads so some dramatic events that let us get introduced to your nosey cubical mate that is the one and only Niall Horan✨

“I say we use the zip ties on his ankles.” Harry suggests as he places a hand on his hip while running his free one through his hair as he stands in front of a fold out table littered with different objects he packed with him for this evening’s job. “Makes it easier to move him to the trunk if his ankles are tied together and the zip ties haven’t let us down before unlike the-”

“I get it okay? Rope only works in the movies but how was I supposed to know that?” Mitch says in an attempt to defend his choice of wanting to use rope on a man’s hands and feet a few jobs ago, but it ended up being a massive issue because the rope kept coming undone as they moved the body from the living room to the car and then to the woods to be disposed of.

“It could’ve worked if you knew how to properly tie a knot.” Harry states as he reaches for the bundle of zip ties while Mitch just rolls his eyes as he walks over to the man lying on his back in the middle of the basement.

“Let me guess-” Harry turns to look over his shoulder as Mitch bends down and grabs the knife from next to the man’s wrist, placing it in his open duffle bag near the table. “You know how to tie a perfect knot?” He questions making Harry just shrug as he looks back at the table so he can count out four zip ties, deciding it’s best to do the wrists as well just to be safe.

“I mean I’ve been known to be able to tie a decent knot or at least one someone can’t wiggle their way out of.” Mitch doesn’t miss the slight suggestive tone to Harry’s voice as he talks or the small smirk that tugs at his lips when he turns to hand him two zip ties so he can get started on tying the man’s wrists together while Harry works on his ankles.

“Really? She’s into being-” Before Harry can even shoot him a warning glare to watch what comes out of his mouth next, Mitch’s brows are pinching together as he moves the zip ties to one hand so he can reach into his back pocket of his jeans for his phone. “Uh hello?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he begins to zip tie the man’s ankles while keeping a watchful eye on his bestfriend who in all the years he’s been working with him can count on three fingers the times he’s ever answered the phone while on a job.

“Yes-yeah he’s with me.” Mitch gives Harry a quick glance making Harry get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What? Uh-uhm okay yeah yeah we will uh-yeah be right there uh huh-bye.” Harry is already done with the man’s ankles and standing up by the time Mitch is hanging up and sliding his phone back into his jeans.

“What happened?” Mitch runs a hand over his face with his free hand before he looks at Harry who is packing his backpack up, preparing to leave the moment Mitch explains what the phone call was about because he can just tell whatever it was about isn’t good.

“That was Niall-”

“Niall? As in my wife’s coworker Niall?”

“Uh yeah so apparently she goes to-”

“To dance lessons on Tuesdays? Yeah because that’s the night we work late and she doesn’t like to be home alone at night that much. Now what the fuck happened? Why did he call you?”

“Well if you would just let me talk I would happily tell you.” Harry sends Mitch a glare as he shoves the last of his stuff into his backpack but Mitch just ignores him as he quickly finishes zip tying the man’s wrists together.

“Niall went with her tonight because he was bored and I guess something happened and he thinks her toe is broken? But she’s okay and-and Harry dude where are you going? I drove us here you asshole!” Mitch shouts as he scrambles to get to his feet and grab his duffle bag before Harry is at the top of the stairs that lead to the kitchen of the man’s house.

The thing is Mitch knows Harry well enough to know he will absolutely leave him here if he doesn’t make it to the car fast enough so Mitch skips every other step and barley makes it into the passenger seat before Harry is putting the car into reserve and heading towards where he already knows you’re at. Harry doesn’t bother looking at how fast he’s going or how quickly the lights change from yellow to red as he runs through them. The only thing running through his mind is getting to you as fast as he can because until his eyes land on you and he sees for himself just how badly you’re hurt or hopefully how not hurt you really are, he can’t focus on much else.

“Traffic laws are still in effect by the way and I’m pretty sure you’ve already broken three of them.” Mitch reminds his friend who he knows is just in a panicked and probably slightly angry state of mind over the fact you got hurt and he wasn’t there to stop it from happening or make you feel better the moment it happened.

“Yeah well coming from someone who just stabbed a man not even two hours ago I think traffic laws are the least of our worries.” Harry argues with a casual tone that makes Mitch just let out a chuckle as he shakes his head.

“You just always have to be right don’t you?” This gets a small smile out of Harry as he briefly looks over at Mitch with a shrug.

“So…Niall has your number?” Mitch lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes making Harry grin because he can see the tiniest hint of a smile wanting to form on his face, he knew the two of them hit it off when they met a few weeks ago at the festival but he hadn’t heard much else about it because well Mitch isn’t one to share details about his personal life unless Harry really pushes for them.

Mitch knows Harry is only asking about Niall as a way to distract himself so his mind won’t wonder off to the darkest corners and start imagining the worst possible scenarios the two of them could be headed towards even though the only injury either of them know you might have is a broken toe. So Mitch decides that he’ll be nice, he will let Harry in on some bits of information regarding the Irish brunette man he was forced to meet at an event he only agreed to go to because of the promise of cookies and the chance to indulge in carving into something for fun and not for work, Mitch has always enjoyed a good pumpkin carving contest. But he also isn’t going to give this information up easily, so he thinks of something Harry can do for him in exchange for it.

“I’ll tell you about it if you actually stop at the next red light.” Mitch offers causing Harry to let out a huff as he reluctantly lets off the gas just a bit, his way of silently agreeing to the terms his bestfriend gave him making Mitch loosen the death like grip he has on the passenger side door handle.

Niall is a ball of nerves as he looks at the door of the bar waiting for it to burst open and to see your husband walk through it, he chews on his bottom lip as he looks down at his phone and sees it’s been five minutes since he’s called Mitch so he knows that’s probably way too soon for Harry to arrive considering both of them were at work when he called. He wouldn’t feel so nervous if the last few times he saw Harry he was just a little more friendly because the thing Niall doesn’t understand is how someone who works with computers and is a certified tech nerd can be so terrifying but that’s exactly what Harry is to Niall, terrifying. He knows the moment Mitch and Harry walk through the door he is going to be getting some hard glares and probably a nasty comment or two so he’s just trying to prepare himself the best he can.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t a good color I just said it’s unusual that’s all.” Niall’s head shoots up at the sound of Mitch’s voice as his eyes land on the door just in time to see Mitch walk through it with Harry following close behind him.

Now Niall has seen Harry before, he’s met him three or four times in casual settings and once at an office party but he’s never seen him look quite like this. The sleeves of his all black button up are rolled up to his elbows letting him get an eyeful of the tattoos that decorate his forearms and hands, it’s tucked into well fitting black trousers that are held up with a thin black belt while his hair is pushed back and his usual glasses are gone making Niall assume he has contacts in. It’s as if his attire just adds another layer of his already intimidating personality making Niall swallow down his nerves as Harry’s eyes finally land on him.

“Where is she?” Niall feels his eyes go wide at how harsh and deep Harry’s voice is as he walks towards where he’s standing near the end of the bar. He opens his mouth to say something but it’s as if all of a sudden Niall doesn’t knows how to form actual words so he just kind of stands there opening and closing his mouth for a moment making Harry’s jaw clench as his eyes narrow in one of the harshest glares Niall has ever been on the receiving end of.

“She’s in my office.” Harry’s glare softens as he looks away from Niall and towards Jeff who is standing behind the bar cleaning some glasses.

“Thanks.” Harry calls over his shoulder as he rushes past Niall and towards the back office of the bar and that’s when Niall lets out a deep sigh as he turns to rest his hands on the top of the bar finally feeling like he can somewhat breathe now that Harry is out of the room.

“Don’t take it personally he’s like that with everyone.” Mitch explains as he comes up to stand next to Niall so he can place a reassuring hand on his back.

“Is he always so-so intense?” Mitch just shrugs as Niall turns his head to look at him with a raised brow. “Nice to see you again by the way. This isn’t exactly how I imagined it going but I’ll take what I can get.” Niall jokes or at least tries to as an attempt to lighten the mood and he thinks it’s worked when he hears a soft chuckle come from Mitch’s mouth.

“Harry just really loves his wife that’s all.” Mitch explains as he looks around Niall and signals Jeff who just gives him a nod and a smile before turning around to start making Mitch’s usual drink. Niall just rolls his eyes as he turns his body so he’s now facing Mitch with his elbow on the bar and his hands clasped together in front of him.

“Oh come on the man looked like he wanted to kill-”

“What the fuck did you give her?” Harry’s voice is loud and full of anger that’s directed towards the man standing in front of Mitch as he comes barreling out of Jeff’s office. Niall doesn’t have time to do anything before Harry has a fistful of his shirt and is shoving his back into the bar with one hand while his other hand slams down onto the top of the bar allowing him to lean over Niall as he speaks. “You have five seconds to tell me why my wife is in that office acting loopy and dazed out of her fucking mind.” Mitch doesn’t even flinch at how harsh Harry’s tone is as his grip on Niall’s shirt tightens, Mitch just places a hand on Harry’s shoulder which he instantly shrugs off making Mitch roll his eyes.

“Harry you’ve got to-”

“Tell me to calm down and I swear I’ll break his nose right now.” Harry threatens as he quickly turns to give Mitch a look that makes the long haired man let out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair. “You now have three seconds.” He states as his attention goes back to Niall who is trying his hardest not to freak out at the fact he just heard Harry casually mention breaking his nose.

“She uhm said she-she was in pain so I gave her something to make her feel better that’s all.” Niall explains the best he can with how he’s bent over the bar.

“You don’t know me very well Niall but you should know that I hate to repeat myself.” Niall closes his eyes after Harry’s statement half expecting to feel a blow to his face giving him the broken nose he heard him mention just a moment before. “So just know I’m only going to ask you one more time.” Niall slowly opens his eyes as Harry’s grip on his shirt loosens but only slightly. “What did you give her?” Mitch looks at Niall over Harry’s shoulder and raises an eyebrow at him and that’s when Niall realizes he might’ve made a mistake.

“I gave her a pain pill I had saved over from my knee surgery that I just keep around for emergencies.” Harry quirks a brow at Niall’s admission as his eyes momentarily glance down to his knees and Mitch knows he’s storing that information for later just incase he needs to use it against the man he still has in his harsh grip. “I just wanted her to feel better I’m sorry.” He blurts out making Harry let out a scoff as he gives Niall a shove as he releases his hold on his shirt.

“Oh well she’s feeling wonderful Niall so wonderful she can’t tell even me what actually hurts or what happened.” Harry says with a dark chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair while he turns to take a step away from Niall. “All she knows is that she feels nice and floaty.” He says as he glares at Niall over his shoulder, Niall stands up and fixes his shirt with a sigh as he glances towards the office door he knows you’re currently behind.

“I’m sorry-” Niall’s apology is cut off by Harry just ignoring him as he heads back towards the office, Mitch just gives Niall a sympathetic look as he follows behind.

“I know he seems like a massive jackass and for the most part he is but maybe if you go back there,” Jeff’s voice causes Niall to spin around and face the bar as he places a shot of whiskey down in front of him, Niall follows Jeff’s head tilt in the direction of his office. “You’ll see him in a different light.” He finishes explaining as Niall reaches down for the shot glass.

“I’d rather not get my ass kicked but thanks.” Niall answers before downing the shot and handing the empty glass to Jeff who just laughs.

“He won’t even notice you’re in the room.”

“Trust me he’ll notice. He fucking hates me man. I practically drugged his wife.”

“If you’re in the same room as her then no. He won’t.” With that Jeff turns and heads towards the opposite end of the bar leaving Niall standing there with no other option really than to just suck it up and honestly he doesn’t want to seem like a horrible friend so he needs to at least go check and see how you’re doing.

Mitch turns to look at the door when he sees it open and he gives Niall a small smile as he leans against the doorframe a few feet from where Mitch is leaning against the wall closest to the door. Harry doesn’t pay him any attention as he kneels down in front of the small couch in Jeff’s office, right in front of where your left foot is propped up on a pillow.

“Baby can you tell me if this hurts?” Niall feels his mouth slightly drop open at the tone of Harry’s voice, it’s soft and gentle, not a trace of the anger Niall heard earlier and the way he’s looking at you is as if he thinks even too harsh of a glance could break you.

“Sweetheart.” Harry’s face breaks out into a playful smile as he looks over at you and sees your eyes are closed but he knows by the way you’re breathing that you’re not asleep, just acting like you are.

“You sound like my husband.” Mitch chuckles as you let out a sigh while still keeping your eyes closed while Harry just playfully rolls his eyes at you as he gently reaches over and puts his hand on top of your foot. “But you can’t actually be him because it’s Tuesday and Tuesdays are for dancing.” Harry just nods with a smile still on his face as he puts a little bit of pressure on your foot while looking at your face for any signs of discomfort.

“Oh is he not allowed to come to these dancing Tuesdays?” Harry asks as he moves his hand further down your foot, still applying pressure and seeing if you show any signs of pain. When you give him a small pout he immediately removes his hand from your foot and rests it on your ankle. “Did that hurt baby?” Harry questions with a furrowed brow as you slowly open your eyes.

“He works late Tuesdays and comes home when I’m asleep.” You mumble sadly making Harry return your pout as he stands up and places a hand on the back of the couch so he can lean down and place a kiss to your forehead. “You wanna know a secret?” Harry just lets out a soft chuckle as he nods his head while you try to sit up onto your elbows. “Sometimes I’m not asleep and I just act like I am.” You whisper making Harry smile at the little giggle you let out when you fall back onto the couch after telling him your secret.

“That’s so sneaky of you love.” He teases making you smile as you reach up and place a hand on his cheek. “I’m sure your husband hates Tuesdays and coming home so late he has to eat dinner all alone and can’t even get a goodnight kiss.” He explains as he places a kiss to the inside of your wrist before you pull your hand away from his face.

“You always get a goodnight kiss.” You argue making Harry laugh as he leans down to place a quick kiss to your lips in an attempt to get rid of your fake pout.

“Do I? Are you sure?” He asks as he pulls away making you roll your eyes and let out a huff as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Yes I’m sure because you wake me up and beg me for one because you’ll have bad dreams if you don’t get it.” Harry just nods as he quickly leans down and kisses your cheeks before standing up and turning to grab your purse and shoes off the floor.

“That’s right sweetheart your goodnight kisses keep the bad dreams away so if I have to beg for them then so be it.” You smile as you watch him gather your things into your purse and toss the bag over his shoulder before he turns back around so he facing you.

“Hi.” You mumble as you look up at him causing a dimpled grin to take over his face as he looks down at you.

“Hi baby.” He says as he holds out his hands for you to take to help you sit up. “Ready to go home?” You just nod your head and before you can even ask him for your shoes you feel one of his arms under your knees and another under your arms scooping you into his arms. Niall moves out of the way before Harry has to tell him to allowing room for the two of them to exit the office and when you see Niall you give him a big smile and a wave.

“Bye Niall! See you tomorrow!” Niall just laughs and waves back at you while Harry ignores the interaction as he heads for the door to the bar with the keys to your car in his hand.

Harry knows he’s going to have to smooth things over with Niall at some point but not tonight, not when he’s still not even sure what exactly happened or what exactly on your foot hurts. As much as he hates to say it, he can admit he understands why Niall did what he did because he saw his friend in pain and wanted to help so he did what he thought would make you feel better. He just hopes that Niall will keep his moment of anger between the two of them because he just made you a promise about threatening people and he knows you’ll be beyond upset with him if you find out he threatened your cubical mate. But he will find a time to worry about that later because right now all he wants to worry about is getting you home and then figuring out which movie you want to watch in bed while he makes you dinner and gets you situated before he has to unfortunately return to the man in the basement to finish his job for the evening but he decides that can at least wait until you’ve gone to sleep.

With Harry gone Mitch takes a moment and looks over at Niall who he can tell is struggling with understanding how that man was the same man who had him bent over a bar as he casually threatened to break his nose not even five minutes ago. It’s something everyone who meets Harry goes through because they all come to learn that there’s two sides to Harry and only one person gets the side that involves gentle touches and soft voices and that person is you. But Mitch knows that since Niall is your coworker he gets told stories about the softer side of Harry and even though the past few times he’s been around him while Harry hasn’t been the friendliest he wasn’t ever blatantly an asshole, so meeting the rougher side of him full force tonight was probably a bit much.

“It’s weird right?” Mitch asks breaking Niall out of his trance as he stares at the door you and Harry just went through. “Seeing him like that with her?”

“Is he a Gemini or something?” Niall asks with a more than serious expression on his face as he looks from the door to Mitch who just laughs and shakes his head as he reaches over and puts a hand on Niall’s shoulder. “Like with the two people in one body kinda thing?” He adds with a quirked brow making Mitch just give his shoulder a little squeeze.

“Nope he’s an Aquarius.”

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dae-chwiita · 1 day ago

Text

A Little Too Late, A Little Too Drunk

Pairing : San X reader

Summary : You keep ignoring San and his drunk self can't handle it.

TW : drunk San, jealousy, kind of corny ? idk fluff fluff fluff

_________________

The room buzzed with laughter, music, and the faint clink of glasses, noises that matched your troubled emotions. The party was in full swing, yet it felt as though you were outside looking in—especially when your gaze inevitably found its way to San.

There he was, all sharp lines and soft smiles, his laughter booming over the music as he chatted with the girl you’d seen with the group before. She was beautiful, confident, and far too comfortable with him for your liking. It wasn't the first time you saw her; always hanging out with the guys recently.

You turned away quickly, heart twisting. It wasn’t as though you had any claim over him—San didn’t know about the feelings that had grown for almost a year now, feelings that had steadily grown into an ache every time he smiled at someone prettier who wasn’t you.

It was easier to ignore him, to let the sting of jealousy numb you, rather than risk exposing your vulnerability. That burning jealousy made it impossible to even look his way, you couldn't let your overflowing feelings see the light of day. If he found out, your friendship would be gone ! How could San want someone like you, when he could have someone like her ?

“Hey, come on.” Wooyoung nudged your shoulder, pulling you back to the moment. “You’ve been in your head all night. Let’s grab a drink.”

“Sure,” you murmured, looking at your empty cup, hoping the distraction would help. But even as you followed Wooyoung toward the makeshift bar, your eyes betrayed you, darting once again to San.

He was still with her, but something was off. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he kept glancing around, searching for… something.

---

San was restless.

He should’ve been enjoying himself—Yujin was funny, and she’d been a friend for years. But no matter how hard he tried to engage in the conversation, his mind kept drifting. Where were you?

You’d been distant all evening, barely sparing him a glance. Every attempt he made to catch your attention was met with a polite, detached smile or a quick excuse to leave.

It was driving him mad.

San’s grip tightened around his drink as Yujin’s laugh pulled him back to reality. She was saying something, her voice soft, but he didn’t register a word. All he could think about was the way you had been avoiding him.

He wanted to call out to you, but you were with Wooyoung again, laughing loudly at something he’d said. San’s chest tightened, an unfamiliar burn spreading through him.

His thoughts spiraled as Yujin leaned closer, resting a hand on his arm. “San,” she purred, her voice cutting through the haze, “you’re so distracted. Is it me, or is there something else on your mind?”

Before he could respond, you passed by, your laughter with Wooyoung ringing clear. San froze, his gaze snapping to you. Without thinking, he stepped forward.

“Hey, wait—”

Wooyoung turned, flashing him a grin. “What’s up, San?”

San barely glanced at him, his blurry eyes locked on you. “Can I talk to—”

“She’s busy,” Wooyoung cut in, his tone light but firm. He threw you a quick glance, silently asking if you wanted to stay.

You didn’t.

“I’ll catch you later,” you muttered, brushing past San without meeting his eyes.

“Wait.”

His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist before you could escape. Your pulse leaped beneath his touch, but you still refused to look at him, quickly glancing at Yujin and her pouting, holding San's arm.

“What’s going on?” San asked, his voice a mixture of frustration and desperation. “Why are you avoiding me?”

The question hung heavy in the air, but before you could answer, Yujin’s voice rang out. “San! You aren't even listening to me...”

You stiffened, the sound slicing through whatever resolve you’d had left.

“Let go,” you said, your voice cold as you tugged your arm free. “Go back to her.”

You didn’t look back as you walked away, but Wooyoung did. He hesitated, torn between following you and staying behind to let San step in.

“Wooyoung, don’t—”

San’s voice cracked, and when Wooyoung turned back, he saw something raw in his friend’s expression.

“Let me go after her, please.”

---

You were outside before you realized it, the cool night air biting at your skin. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you tried to push down the wave of anger and hurt that threatened to overwhelm you. She was touching his arm again, holding it like it was her's. Like he was her's.

Why did it have to hurt this much?

“Wait!”

San’s voice shattered your thoughts, and you turned just in time to see him stumble toward you, his steps unsteady.

“Go back inside, San,” you said sharply.

“No.” His voice was firm despite the slur in his words. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

You scoffed, turning away. “You’re drunk. This isn’t the time.”

“I don’t care.”

Suddenly, he was in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders as he forced you to face him. His eyes, glassy with alcohol, bore into yours.

“Why are you ignoring me?” he demanded. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything!” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “That’s the problem, San. You didn’t do anything, and you don’t even see...”

“See what?”

You hesitated, the weight of your feelings pressing down on you, looking down.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said finally, trying to pull away. “Just let it go.”

“No.” His grip tightened, his voice breaking. “It matters to me. You matter to me.” He took a deep breathing, tilting his head. “Can you at least look at me...please.”

Your heart lurched as you looked up, but you forced yourself to stay firm. “You don’t get it, San. You’re always with her, laughing and smiling like she’s the only person in the world. And I—”

Your voice cracked, and you looked away.

“And you what?” he whispered, his tone softening.

“And I can’t stand it,” you admitted, the words barely audible.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then San let out a shaky laugh, his hands sliding down to your wrists.

“You’re jealous,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You think I care about Yujin like that?”

“Don’t you?”

“No!” The force of his answer startled you, and you looked up to find him staring at you with an intensity that stole your breath.

“It’s you,” he said hoarsely, his hands shaking while holding your wrists. “It’s always been you.”

Your mind reeled, the confession sinking in.

“But—”

“No buts,” he cut in, his voice trembling. “I’ve been losing my mind all night because you wouldn’t even look at me. You have no idea how much I—”

He broke off, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “I’m in love with you.”

The words hung between you, heavy and unshakable.

“‘You… what?’” you repeated, staring at him like he’d just sprouted a second head.

“I said,” San slurred, his voice louder now, “I’m in love with you. And I’ve been losing my mind all night because you’ve been ignoring me! It’s driving me CRAZY!”

You blinked at him, taken aback by the outburst. “San, you’re drunk—”

“Drunk, yes,” he interrupted, holding up a finger. “But I’m also telling the truth! Do you have any idea how many times I tried to talk to you tonight?!”

“San—”

“Seven!” he exclaimed, as he held up what looked like five fingers, his other hand still busy holding you. “Seven times! And every single time, you just… just walked away like I didn’t exist!”

Despite yourself, you snorted. “I didn’t walk away seven times.”

“Yes, you did!” He leaned closer, his expression equal parts pitiful and desperate. “And it hurt. It hurt.”

“Oh, come on—”

“No, I’m serious!” He pointed at his chest, his finger poking himself a little harder than intended. “Right here. It hurt right here. Every time you ignored me, I thought, ‘Wow. I must’ve done something terrible. Maybe I insulted her by accident?’ But no, you just hate me now for no reason!”

“I don’t hate you,” you muttered, fidgeting with your fingers.

“You sure?” His tone was suspicious, but there was an undeniable softness in his eyes as he stared at you. “Because it really felt like you hated me. Especially when you were laughing with Wooyoung. Do you like him more than me now? Is that what this is about? Is he funnier than me? More handsome? Does he have better hair?”

“San!” you interrupted, laughing despite yourself. “What are you even talking about?”

“I don’t know!” he admitted dramatically, throwing his hands in the air, finally letting go of your arm. “I’ve been spiraling all night, okay? I mean, you’re over there, looking gorgeous, and I’m stuck with Yujin... again.” He sighs dramatically. “Do you know how many times she’s tried to touch my arm tonight? Ten!”

“Ten times?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, his tone heavy with indignation. “It’s like she thinks I’m some kind of… of armrest or something. And the whole time, all I wanted to do was talk to you. But nooooo, you’re busy ignoring me, laughing with Wooyoung, and looking way too good for my sanity!”

You bit back a smile, your irritation melting as you watched him rant. His cheeks were flushed, his words a little too loud, but there was a raw honesty in his drunken rambling that made your heart ache.

“San,” you said softly, cutting him off before he could spiral further.

“What?” he asked, his wide, pleading eyes meeting yours.

“I wasn’t ignoring you because I hate you. Or because of Wooyoung.”

“Then why?” His voice cracked slightly, and you could see the desperation in every inch of him.

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—with so much vulnerability—made it impossible to hold back.

“Because I was jealous, okay?” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Seeing you with her all night… it made me feel like I didn’t matter to you. Like I couldn’t compare.”

San stared at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t quite process your words.

Then, with absolutely zero grace, he blurted out, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Excuse me?” you said, your eyes narrowing.

“You’re jealous of Yujin?!” he exclaimed, looking genuinely baffled. “She’s not even my type!”

“Oh, really? And what is your type?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He blinked at you, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “You!”

Your mouth fell open, but before you could respond, he kept going, his words tumbling out in a drunken rush.

“You’re my type, okay? You’re the type. The only type. Like, if someone said, ‘Hey, San, describe your dream person!’ I’d just say your name and that would be it! So the fact that you think I care about Yujin when you’re literally right here is just… just—ugh! It’s stupid!”

You stared at him, stunned into silence.

“See?!” he said, throwing his hands up again. “Now you’re ignoring me again! I've even told you the L word and you keep ignoring me!”

“I’m not ignoring you!” you said, trying not to laugh, feeling your cheeks about to burst in flammes.

“You kind of are...” he muttered, pouting slightly.

“San.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

Before he could say another word, you grabbed his face and kissed him, cutting off whatever nonsense he was about to say next.

For a moment, he froze, his brain clearly struggling to catch up. Then he melted into the kiss, his shaking hands finding their way to your waist as he pulled you closer.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes were wide, and his lips were parted in surprise.

“Does that clear things up?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded slowly, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it does.”

“Good.” You started to turn away, embarrassed by what you've just done, but he grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“Wait. Just to be clear, are you my girlfriend now? Or do I have to ask officially tomorrow when I’m sober?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “We’ll see how you handle your hangover first.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

#ateez #san #san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #choi san #choi san x reader

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caitified · 17 hours ago

Note

Hey, can you write some more Kate stories please ? They are really good 😊

puppy love

kate martin x reader

warnings: none! more family series coming soon

kate’s been quiet since the loss. she’s not one to show it too much—always trying to be strong, for her teammates, for you—but you can see it in the way she moves around the apartment, slower than usual, her usual spark dimmed.

it’s been a tough adjustment, this first season in the league. vegas has been good to her, to both of you, but the end of the playoffs hit harder than either of you expected. you’ve been wracking your brain for days, trying to find a way to cheer her up.

and then it hits you—the idea you’ve been holding onto for years.

kate’s always wanted a dog. she talked about it all the time in college, her face lighting up as she’d scroll through adoption websites, dreaming of the day you’d finally have a place big enough, a schedule steady enough, to make it happen.

now feels like the perfect time.

you spend a few days researching, visiting shelters while she’s at practice, and finally, you find the one. a golden retriever mix with the sweetest brown eyes, one that practically melts into your hand the moment you meet him.

the adoption papers are signed that afternoon.

when kate comes home from her workout the next day, the apartment’s unusually quiet.

“babe?” she calls, setting her bag down by the door.

“in the living room!” you reply, barely containing your excitement.

she rounds the corner, her brows furrowing as she takes in the scene—you sitting on the couch, and the dog sitting at your feet, wagging his tail like he’s already claimed her as his favorite person.

“oh my god,” kate breathes, dropping her water bottle as her eyes widen.

“surprise,” you say softly, your smile growing as she just stands there, frozen.

“is this—?”

“he’s ours,” you confirm, patting your thigh to call the dog closer. he trots over to you, but his attention quickly shifts to kate, sniffing her cautiously before pressing his nose against her hand.

“you—” kate’s voice catches, and she sinks to her knees, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “you got me a dog?”

“i got us a dog,” you correct, watching as her eyes start to glisten. “i know how hard this season’s been for you. and i thought… maybe this would help.”

kate lets out a shaky laugh, wrapping her arms around the dog, who happily licks her cheek. “you’re amazing, you know that?”

“i try,” you tease, moving to sit beside her on the floor.

she looks over at you, her eyes still wet but filled with so much love it makes your chest ache. “seriously, i can’t believe you did this. he’s perfect.”

“you’re perfect,” you counter, leaning in to kiss her temple.

she laughs again, this time lighter, and rests her head on your shoulder. “what’s his name?”

“i was thinking you could pick,” you say, watching as the dog flops onto his back, clearly at home already.

kate grins, brushing a hand over the dog’s soft fur. “how about lucky? because that’s how i feel right now.”

you laugh softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “lucky it is.”

#kate martin x reader #kate martin #wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #iowa wbb #las vegas aces #lv aces

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screamintoad · 3 days ago

Text

Twst oc Mathilde “Mattie” Darrow

“Our fates are within us, you just need to be brave enough to see it.”

Voice claim: Rayla-The Dragon Prince

Character info

Mathilde has stubbornness and fire flowing through her veins. As the dorm head of Befated, she takes great pride in it. Many of her classmates gossip and say she would be better at NRC but she thinks otherwise. Wanting her freedom to do what she wants, she takes every opportunity she can to be outside or even just around nature. She loves playing spelldrive and uses it as a way to let out any pent up stress or energy, which she has a lot of at RSA.

She grew up around myths and legends and folk tales. She was taught to not believe them as reality, yet, Mattie took them as lessons that you can learn from. Like the old story of the princess who accidentally turned her mom into a bear yet ended up saving her and their bond. She lives a humble life with her family in the Shaftlands. Although they don’t always see eye to eye, her family DOES always end the day around the fireplace surrounded by laughter.

Fun facts: She almost joined the archery club but when she saw the Spelldrive team practicing she decided right then and there that she wanted to do it too. When she was younger she was self conscious about her looks because of other kids poking fun at her for it, now that she’s older she’s quite confident in herself. Uses her magic to summon the string and arrows for her bow. Is a Eurasian brown bear beastfolk. She remembers meeting an old lady who lived in a cottage and this lady addressed her as “princess”, she especially remembers all of the bear carvings she was selling and the odd talking crow.

Basic info

Age: 17

Height: 178cm, 5’10

B-day: June 15th (Gemini)

Dominant hand: Right

Family: mom, dad, and 3 younger brothers

2nd year

Class A

Club: Spelldrive

Best subject: P.E

Hobbies: Archery, Horseback riding

Pet peeve: People not listening to her for various reasons (“I’m older”, “You’re just a girl”, etc.)

Favorite food: Berries

Least favorite food: Blueberry tarts

Talent: Self preservation, athletics

Unique Magic: Wisps Call, growing up around myths and legends gave her a knack for finding lone spirits and attract wisps to her. In dire need of guidance these wisps will lead the way.

Character dynamics (listen there’s only like 2 RSA students that we know the personalities of)

Neige: They don’t interact very often but they are in the same grade so sometimes, very rarely, they’ll be paired up for school assignments. He has a a bit of complimenting her and first she scoffed until she realized that it’s just how Neige is.

Chen’ya: Even with her enhanced senses, Mattie can’t predict where Chen’ya is going to be. He’s a drifter and so they run into each other at random times but, she thinks he’s funny and will go with him sometimes to visit NRC.

Richie: They first met when she was trying out for the spelldrive team. He challenged her to a 1 v 1 match and if she won, she could join the team. After she joined the team they gained a friendly rivalry, on and off the field. Mattie also has the habit of throwing him over her shoulder and walking away if he’s about to or has made a fool of himself.

Mina: They met when there was a spelldrive tournament between NRC and RSA. Mathilde was immediately drawn to Mina as she stood out so much compared to the other NRC students. Her kindness was welcomed by Mattie’s enthusiasm and friendliness, she’s also the main reason why Mattie visits NRC.

Bruna: Vice dorm head of Befated. Rats.

RICHIE AND MINA BELONG TO @twtysevapr

Tags!: @blood-red-hummingbee @gimmeurmoneyagh @babyghoul138 @angelwishess @4necdote

@moonyasnow @skibidibabygirl @justm3di0cr3 @bunniehunn @midnightmah07

@buttholesparkles @theolivetree123 @beneathsakurashade @the-rini-rush TELL ME OF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED OR NOT

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst oc art #mathilde darrow

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bosbas · 1 day ago

Text

Chapter 1: I said, "dancin' is a dangerous game"

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader WC: 2.5k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, lowkey why do i ship daphne and y/n....

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

May 13, 1812 - You were in Hyde Park less than ten minutes before you saw Daphne Bridgerton's figure out of the corner of your eye. Delighted that she'd joined you earlier than expected, you waved her over.

"Hello, Daph," you greeted cheerfully, scooting over so your best friend could sit beside you on the bench. "I didn't think I'd see you for a few hours, given how many gentlemen asked you to dance last night. Did none of them call?"

Daphne groaned, a scowl set deep on her face, as she took a piece of bread from your basket and broke it into chunks to feed the ducks.

"Don't remind me. Most of them called, actually," she responded. "If only Anthony had let me have three seconds with them I might have been able to discern whether or not I was actually interested. He barged into the sunroom and promptly kicked everyone out. There was not a single suitor left in the room by the time he'd finished!"

You snorted. "Ah, so the overbearing eldest brother is once again to blame."

"Isn't he always?" she responded, too annoyed to match the lightness in your tone.

You just smiled to yourself and fed the ducks silently, knowing Daphne well enough to hide your smile from her, given that she was more than likely fuming at Anthony's constant meddling. You knew he meant well, but he was known to go a bit overboard at times. Well, most times. Especially when it came to Daphne's courtships.

"Anthony's the biggest rake in Mayfair, anyway. I don't know exactly what moral high ground he thinks he's standing on but it's certainly not as sturdy as he assumes," continued Daphne, still upset over that morning's happenings.

"Is it really that bad, Daph?" you said in an attempt to console her. "At least you're not getting hordes of unpleasant men at your doorstep every day. And you know the kinds of men that frequent the ton aren't always the kind you'd want to spend your afternoons with."

"I'm not getting any men at my doorstep! That's the problem!" exclaimed Daphne, exasperated. "I know you might not share the same desires as me, but I would eventually like to get married and have a family."

"I want to find a husband, too," you insisted, your tone bordering on defensive. "I just don't particularly feel bothered to look for one during my first season."

Daphne sobered immediately, coming out of her annoyance toward her brother as she could sense you were upset. "I didn't mean it like that, I swear," she insisted, placing a hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes. "It was just-"

"I understand," you smiled at her, placing your hand over hers. "I just don't have the same urgency as you do, on account of my father having absolutely no stake in my marital status. No stake in anything about me at all, actually."

It would be a sad sentiment if you weren't used to it. You were an only child, and your mother had died after getting ill when you were only five years old. Your father, of course, was quite busy with the land he managed, and thus most of your upbringing had just been you and your governess. And the Bridgertons, of course.

You had met Daphne when she was eight and you were seven, and the two of you had gotten along splendidly since then. Since you had no real family of your own, bar your absent father, you spent copious amounts of time at the Bridgerton residence at Daphne's insistence. You now found yourself to be a semi-permanent fixture in their house, feeling just as home there as you did at your father's home.

This proximity to the Bridgertons had made you intimately familiar with Anthony's overprotective demeanor. Ever since you and Daphne were young, Anthony had gone out of his way to make sure that his siblings were cared for. Sometimes that included you, too. But unfortunately, he could take it too far sometimes.

"Did you like anyone last night, at least? Your dress was quite magnificent and I know I'm not the only one who noticed," you winked at Daphne.

She hummed thoughtfully. "I don't entirely know. I don't think one dance is enough to know whether I truly like someone," she responded, slumping down on the bench.

"Especially not when Anthony cuts the dance short halfway through," you laughed, recalling the eldest Bridgerton's attempts to thwart Daphne's search for a husband.

But your comment did nothing to lighten the mood. Instead, it seemed to make your friend even more irritated.

"It's my second year out in society! I still don't have a husband. Not even close to it, apparently," continued Daphne, aggressively tossing bits of bread into the pond.

"Well, you have to marry eventually. Anthony can't keep you away from every man for the rest of your life!" you argued.

But this did little to quell Daphne's annoyance. "He's certainly trying," she muttered.

"We can ship him off to the West Indies for the season," you joked. "Surely he won't be able to interrupt your suitors from halfway across the globe."

Suddenly, Daphne raised her eyebrows, looking at you with a devious smile.

"I was only joking! We can't actually ship him away," you laughed. "Besides, how would the ladies of the ton ever survive without the most desirable bachelor who is always just out of reach?"

Daphne snorted, amused at your dig at Anthony. "No, no, we don't have to ship him away," she said. "But you are correct in saying that I need time away from him to fully explore potential matches."

You hummed in agreement, imagining how much easier life would be for Daphne if her older brother simply... let her be. "Is he going on a hunting trip soon?" you said hopefully.

Your best friend shook her head, still smiling at you like she was plotting something.

"What is it?" you pressed, laughing at her expression.

"Can I ask you a favor?" she said, an expectant look in her eyes.

“Yes, I’ll kill Anthony for you. I’ve only been waiting for you to ask,” you joked.

“No,” Daphne laughed. “I’m serious.”

“Go on then,” you nodded.

“Could you ask him to dance at tomorrow’s ball?”

“Me? Ask him? Are you out of your mind?” you sputtered. You had never danced with Anthony at a ball, and you couldn't fathom the first time you did so being after you were the one to ask him.

“Y/N, please. I can’t just rely on forlorn glances across the ballroom to secure suitors. I need to actually speak with them, and I won’t be able to if Anthony keeps... hovering.”

Granted, hovering was a very generous word for what Anthony was really doing. But still, you looked at her, uncertainty in your eyes. You weren’t particularly keen on asking Anthony to dance, knowing he was famously opposed to marriage at this point in his life. Yes, you had grown up around him, but that didn’t mean he was interested in you at all, and you didn’t want to face that rejection if you could avoid it.

“Don’t give me that look! I promise it’ll work,” cried Daphne, desperate. “Just tell him you feel like dancing but don’t want to give another man the wrong impression since it’s only your first season and you’re still biding your time. Most of which is true.”

She made a good point. You didn’t want the hordes of men that seemed to flock to Daphne just yet. And would one dance really hurt that much?

---

The music in the ballroom pleasantly surrounded you as you stood next to Violet. Daphne had left to dance with Lord Wilson, a bachelor of very distinguished background who seemed to be hanging onto every word your best friend said.

Just as you turned to Violet to comment on how well-suited the pair looked, Anthony stormed over to where you were standing.

"It's unbelievable that she's even giving him the time of day," he said lowly, looking wholly unimpressed by the dance happening a few feet in front of him.

You could feel Anthony growing tense beside you as the seconds ticked by, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Three seconds of his sister speaking with a man and he was ready to explode already? He was worse than you thought.

You saw Daphne lean back as she laughed at something the gentleman said, and you knew you had to act fast before Anthony intervened.

“Oh, the music is wonderful tonight! Anthony, would you care for a dance?”

He tore his gaze away from his sister and looked at you, perplexed.

“Are you asking me to dance?”

“I believe I am, Anthony,” you said.

He scoffed, not quite believing you. “That is not very proper of you, Lady L/N.”

“And you are a great authority on propriety, I presume?" you said, a playful edge to your voice. "Given your… adventures as a rake, surely you have a better idea of what is proper than I do.”

Anthony choked at your bold choice of words, not used to people calling him out so publicly. “Y/N! Why do you want to dance with me then, if I'm such a rake?”

You rolled your eyes. “I just enjoy the music and want to dance. And I don’t want to give any other men the wrong impression,” you recited exactly what Daphne had told you to say.

He nodded reluctantly and took your hand. “Very well. One dance, then. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression of me either.”

This was the last time you ever did anything for Daphne. God, how difficult could one man be?

But all of your annoyance faded away once he placed his hand on your hip and spun you around. This was rather nice, you found yourself thinking. You hadn't properly danced at a ball yet, and you couldn't help but think that you'd missed out on a rather enjoyable activity.

The dance was going along quite smoothly, and you and Anthony seemed to be melting together, no longer two individuals but instead moving more like one entity. You were especially enjoying whenever his grip shifted slightly and his hand ran across the small of your back. To be truthful, you were simply having fun.

That is until you felt Anthony shifting you across the dance floor so you could get nearer to Daphne and the gentleman she was dancing with. Feeling Anthony's shoulders tense underneath your gingerly placed hands, you looked up at him.

Looking into his eyes, you raised your eyebrows. "She's fine, you know. You don't have to watch over her every second of every ball."

Anthony rolled his eyes, dismissing your comment. "Of course I do. She's my sister! I have to take care of her. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her or if she ended up betrothed to a dolt."

"Anthony," you softened your tone. "It's quite alright. It's not all up to you. You've got an entire family to keep her safe. And me, of course."

You could feel his muscles relax under your hands. "Thank you," he breathed out. "I know all of that to be true. I just worry about her. And about you! But luckily there aren't many suitors of yours to scare off."

"Oh," you said, your voice squeakier than you intended. "Thank you?" you questioned. You weren't quite sure how to take his comment.

"No!" he rushed out, immediately realizing what his words sounded like. "I didn't mean it like that. Daphne had just mentioned that you're not as interested in finding someone right now since it's your first season. And I hadn't really seen you dance with anyone at one of these balls before. And-"

"It's no trouble, Anthony," you smiled, giggling at how flustered he'd gotten. "I appreciate the concern nonetheless."

He shook his head, still not believing that he'd been so rude toward you. As much as you were a familiar face around his home, he couldn't quite tease you the way he did Daphne or any of his other sisters, and he was dreadfully embarrassed that he had made you upset, even if just for a moment.

"If you ever want to dance again, just come to me, understood?" he said, his voice turning serious. "I don't need another one of you to worry about."

You could barely contain your laughter as the music came to an end. "Yes, Anthony," you said dutifully, smiling at how silly he was being.

Looking over at Daphne, you were pleased to see that everything had gone to plan and she'd had the chance to talk to Lord Wilson the entire time you'd been with her brother. It was a relief that she'd finally gotten a normal courting experience.

Before Anthony could reach her and wrench her away from her suitor, Daphne rushed over to you, grabbing your arm excitedly.

"Shall we take a turn about the ballroom?" she suggested, leaving you no room to protest as she led you away from her mother and brother.

You laughed at her excitement, glad that your best friend was finally enjoying herself.

"Thank you so much, Y/N, truly," she gushed, squeezing your arm affectionately. "That was absolutely incredible. It's the longest time I've been able to spend with a potential match without Anthony hanging over my shoulder."

"I'm happy to do it," you said amusedly. "He was that lovely, then?"

"Oh, absolutely not," she shook her head. "Lord Wilson was dreadfully boring. But at least now I know! And I don't have to pine over him or wonder what he would be like. I know for certain I'm not interested, and I can focus on finding my true love match."

"That's wonderful, Daph," you laughed. You truly held so much affection for her. It was endearing to see her so excited over spending time with a man she didn't even like.

Suddenly, Daphne slowed her pace. Turning you around, she held both of your hands and took a deep breath. "Yes, it was. Which is why I must ask you to dance with Anthony tomorrow night as well."

"What do you mean? Ask him to dance again? I thought this was only for tonight," you sounded unconvinced. Asking her brother to dance one time had already been enough of a hassle, but having to pretend to need him to dance with you once more was looking like an insurmountable challenge.

"Please, Y/N," she begged. "It's the only way I'll find a husband that isn't someone like Nigel Berbrooke," she added, whispering the last part.

It was true, Anthony seemed to have impossibly high standards that only the most unpleasant bachelor in Mayfair seemed to be able to meet. If you could do anything to protect Daphne from that unpleasant fate, you would do it.

"I suppose I could try tomorrow night. Though I can't promise he'll want to dance with me again. Anthony seemed quite reluctant tonight," you conceded.

"Nonsense," said Daphne, rolling her eyes. "Anthony loves you dearly, I can't imagine he'd ever turn you down."

"Whatever you say," you responded, unconvinced but unwilling to dampen your best friend's chipper mood. Besides, you had a wonderful time with Anthony tonight. How could another dance possibly go wrong?

—

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wqlfstqr · 1 day ago

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◟𖥻 ♡⃕ spider boy, king of thieves:

spiderman ! percy jackson

▰▰▰ pairing(s): percy jackson x female!reader.

Spider-boy, king of thieves Weave your little webs of opacity

author: percy jackson is the textbook definition of a peter parker variant, fight me

y/n loved Percy Jackson, she was sure of it. Had been sure of it for years now. For some time, she had been sure, too, that those feelings were one hundred percent reciprocated.

Percy and her, they had this pull towards each other, or that's what everyone else seemed to believe when they said the two of them were perfect for each other. Sadly, y/n was aware that the fairytale everyone seemed to buy was far from perfect and, as much as she wanted to be with him, something always seemed to get in the way.

This was the thrid time they broke up, and y/n was sure it was going to be the final time. Of course, they always seemed to find their way back to each other but she couldn't allow that to happen another time. As much as she loved him, she simply couldn't.

Because dating Percy was a mess, a hurtful mess. it wasn't always like that. they used to be happy and in love, but then he started disappearing for hours with no communication, arriving late to pick her up or standing her up on dates, and he always gave some kind of made up explanation about it. The last straw was when he arrived two hours late to the winter dance he had promised to take her and then refused to tell her why.

y/n's friends seemed to think there had to be two explanations: he was cheating on her or losing feelings for her. Either way, she didn’t want to find out, so she broke up with him before he had the chance to break her heart again. Now there was absolutely no going back, even if all she wanted to do was call him back and take back everything, that wouldn't even work since he never even answered his phone.

"so this is the last time, huh?" her best friend said skeptically, as if she really didn’t believe her. Fair enough, she had already gone back to him two times already.

"yes, and you'll see I really mean it this time." she reassured her friend as she held her phone in between her ear and her shoulder, her hands busy while she went through her closet. "this trip is just what I need, when I'm back I won't even remember who Percy Jackson is."

That was hardly the truth, but at least she hoped she could begin to get over him while she was away for the holidays. She was going to Boston to visit family there, and maybe some time apart from the city and from Percy would be just what she needed.

"y/n, you know I love you" her friend started and she was taking the clothes she needed for the trip but she paused when she heard her tone. "but I find that hard to believe."

y/n was about to reply in her defense, when her gaze landed on a blue sweater in her closet. Percy's sweater. She didn’t even know how long it had been there, but she knew exactly what to do.

"i'm being serious, I'll even go and give him his things back before I go to Boston." she decided, dropping her own clothes in her suitcase before taking the sweater from her closet.

that was something she had never done in the past two breakups, and she did have a lot of his stuff just hanging around in her room. Some of his clothes, his camera from the last time he came around, some of his books, drawings, comics, even the christmas gift she had already bought and wrapped for him weeks ago.

She hadn't realized how much of his stuff she had until she hung up on her friend and she already had a box full of his things. It was difficult not to cry while going through it all, everything held a memory behind it and every memory having anything to do with Percy was painful enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Still, she managed to keep her feelings in check as she took the box and walked out of her apartment, thankfully her parents seemed to be too busy packing to have any questions as she slipped out of the front door. Then, walking to Percy's was easy enough since he didn’t live too far from her, so twenty minutes later she stood upside of his apartment with the box in one hand as she knocked with the other one.

It wasn't Percy that came to open, and she should've been grateful that it was Sally instead, but her smile almost dropped because maybe she had wanted to see him. Still, Sally was too sweet not to smile at her as she opened the door. "y/n! what are you doing out in this cold? and without sweater!"

something she could admit was that she was going to miss was Sally, Percy's mom was just the sweetest and always cared for y/n like she was family. And now the tears were threatening to spill again.

"I wasn't planning on spending too much time out of my house." she started, biting the inside of her cheek because she couldn't, for the love of God, cry in front of Sally. "I was just dropping Percy's stuff off."

Sally looked at the box in her hands and finally seemed to register what was happening, her smile fading slowly as she now looked at the teenager with pity. y/n knew she was probably aware of the break up, Percy always told Sally everything, but it was hard having to stand there and act all tough when the woman was looking at her with such sadness.

still, Sally was nothing if not positive, so after a second she smiled again. "he's not here right now, but you can come in and wait for him if you want." she opened the door further, as if welcoming her in.

and y/n knew she shouldn't, she should just leave the box with Sally and forget all about Percy, but she simply couldn't say no to Sally. And, well, she hadn't seen Percy since last week, it would hurt to see him one last time. Maybe make sure he was doing alright.

"okay" she nodded and stepped into the apartment, following behind Sally as she beamed at her.

Of course, Sally gave her some hot cocoa and blue chocolate chip cookies while she waited, and she made sure to avoid the breakup topic when they both sat down to talk. y/n loved Sally, she was always full of stories and advice and a kind of motherly love y/n herself wasn't used to receiving from her own mother.

But after an hour, Percy hadn't came back and Sally didn’t have a clue where he was, so she sent y/n to wait for him in his room while she went to run some errands. Which y/n should've refused to do but yet again didn’t.

"And y/n?" Sally called as she opened the door, the younger girl was still amazed at how much the woman trusted her just to leave her there. "I can't say I know what exactly happened between you and Percy, but I can tell you he cares about you."

Yeah, that's what y/n had wanted to believe for years, what everyone always told her. But now she wasn't so sure about it, still, she smiled at Sally and let her go before she went into Percy's room, which was exactly how she remembered from the last time she had been there.

She tried not to look around too much, knowing she would feel too nostalgic about it all, instead she busied herself with playing some game on her phone while she waited. Unfortunately, thirty minutes later Percy hadn't arrived and she was already too tired of waiting for him. That's all she ever did. So she stood up from his bed, leaving the box there and shortly after making her way to the door while the dissapointment settled in her stomach.

but then just as she was about to turn the knob, she heard some ruffling behind her back and then the noise of Percy's window opening. She immediatly turned around, her heart racing as she expected to find some thief entering through the window, yet she had to stop herself from screaming when she didn’t find thief but, far from it, Spider-man.

what was Spider-man doing in Percy's room? As he entered the room, y/n put her hands over her mouth to stiffle a stragled sound. Spider-man didn’t seem to realize she was there as he started crawling through the roof.

y/n was gaping at the superhero, unsure of what to do as her mind raced through countless scenarios. Yet, nothing could have prepared her for what happened next. She let out a squeak she couldn’t contain when Spider-Man started to remove his mask, catching his attention

wait wait wait y/n froze when she realized- first she recognized the hair. his hair. the one she had ran her fingers through countless of times. When he finally turned around, she already knew who he was.

Percy looked as shocked as she was once his eyes finally found her, her pale face and her back against the door she had been trying to open just seconds before. "this is not what you think it is." he blurted out, still hanging from the roof.

She had trouble finding her voice again. "so you're not Spider-man, you just go around crawling on people's ceilings dressed as him?" she asked, surprised at the slight sarcasm in her shocked voice.

He let go of the roof, y/n was about to point out that his amazing landing didn’t exactly help his case at all, but he looked at her with panic in his eyes so she shut her mouth. "well maybe it is what it looks like."

She lost her breath, and she knew she had to sit down soon, so she simply walked past him and took a seat in his bed, exactly where she had been minutes before. Percy's eyes shifted at the box placed beside her, and he looked like he was about to question it before he shook his head and pushed it away so he could sit.

"So you're Spider-man." she managed to say after a few seconds of silence that felt like hours.

"I guess I am." he replied, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal at all, for a moment y/n wanted to throw something at him but now that she knew he was Spider-man, it was likely he was going to catch it before it even came close to hitting him.

That thought opened the door for many others as realization dawned on her: Every time he caught something without even looking, every time he was late to dates or disappeared for hours only to reappear suddenly—she realized it all added up. The missed calls, unanswered messages, and the times he stood her up, and-

"Oh my god, is this why you were late for the winter dance?" he seemed to hesitate before he nodded slowly, she averted her eyes to look at anything but him, she couldn't look at him right now. "so you let me break up with you instead of just telling me the truth?"

"it's not-" he stopped himself, taking a deep breath before he could go on. "it's not like that, I just wanted to keep you safe."

She didn’t know if she was annoyed or sad, but she sure as hell wanted to cry. "Percy you've been lying to me, that's not fair."

Percy rubbed the back of his neck, looking directly at her even though she wasn't looking at him. "I know it’s not fair. I know I messed up. But I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me. I thought you’d be safer if you didn’t know, if I kept you away from me."

"Safer?" she scoffed, finally meeting his gaze with her eyes filled with tears. "Percy, you don't get to decide that for me. Do you know how much it hurt to think you didn’t care? I thought I wasn't enough for you for so long."

Seeing the tears in her eyes made Percy want to reach and hug her, but he knew her too much to know that she would probably pull away. "I care about you, that's why I did it." he felt like he was drowning as he tried to explain himself. "you mean everything to me, I wouldn't want to risk putting you in danger."

Her lips trembled as the anger melted into exhaustion. She wanted so badly to just let it go and fall back again into his arms, but the wound in her chest still ached. "You should’ve told me. I would've understood you."

He hesitated, his shoulders sagging as he admitted, "I was scared, okay? Scared the people after me would use you to get to me. Do you think I wanted you to feel like this? To lose you to this?"

The room fell silent again, but after a moment she looked away and stood up from the bed, she couldn't bear another minute there "I don’t know if I can forgive you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Not right now."

And with that, Percy let her go. He had so many things to say, but he knew it wasn't the right time, it was better to just give her some time to think. But he also knew that she wouldn't let her walk away again, not this time. Not ever again.

y/n's parents were very mad at her but she couldn't bring herself to care just yet. The boston trip would've been an excellent idea after all the mess with Percy, but instead she had decided to skip it altogether and stay home for christmas.

Fortunately, New York was big enough so that she could avoid running into Percy. Unfortunately, it was difficult not to think about him when everything reminded her of him.

y/n loved to spend her afternoons walking through the bustling streets of New York. Right in that moment, she was trying to distract herself, but everything reminded her of him: the street vendor they always stopped by for pretzels, the bookstore where he had listened to her talk about every book she had read, the park where they had shared their first kiss just under a snowy day like this. Every way she looked to, there was a memory of him hidden.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t even notice him hidden, following her every step until suddenly strong arms wrapped tight around her waist, and before she could even gasp, she’s was already soaring into the sky. Wind rushed past her as she looks at the the familiar red-and-black suit. "Percy!" she yells, half-angry, half-dizzy from the height.

He chuckles, the sound muffled through the mask. "Hey. Missed me?" she wanted to keep screaming at him, but she looked down and realized just how high they were so she gasped intead, holding tighly onto him.

He swung them higher, the city blurring beneath them until they landed on the rooftop of some random building. She stumbled a little, trying to catch her breath, but Percy steadied her.

"What the hell, Percy? you can't just do that and-" the words died in her mouth once she looked at what was waiting just in front of her.

"Surprise." he said softly, motioning to the cozy picnic blanket and basket waiting for them. The setting sun was casting a golden glow over the skyline, the view breathtaking.

He pulled his mask off as he turns to face her, his sea green eyes full of guilt. "I know it won't solve everything, but I just need you to listen to me, and after that if you hate it, you can push me off this roof."

That made her smile just a little, unintentionally showing the lingering affection she had been trying to bury. "as if that would work, you would probably land on your feet."

He laughed, and she realized just how much she was missed that laugh.

However, before she could even try to commit it to memory, he turned serious again as he took a step closer to her. "I'm really sorry for not telling you the truth sooner, I should have never let you believe that I didn’t care about you. I can't take what I did back, but from now on I swear to you that I'll never keep anything else from you again. Just let me show you how much you mean to me. One day at a time"

She tilted her head to the side, giving him a soft smile. "You’re really not going to give up, are you?"

"Not a chance," Percy replied almost immediatly, as if he didn’t even need to think about it. "You mean too much to me."

She looked at him for a long moment of silence, but she didn’t say anything, she simply stood there in silence before she finally sighed and went to sit on the blanket he had set up, he seemed confused but immediatly followed her to sit beside her. He didn’t push her, didn’t try to force a resolution. He just sat there, letting her process, letting her feel.

"Does this mean I don’t get pushed off the roof?"

"Don’t push your luck, Jackson," she replied, rolling her eyes even though there was a smile tugging at her lips.

They both sat right there in silence until she finally speaked again, looking up at the sky before going back to find his eyes, that were already on her. "one day at a time." she granted finally, and before he could even begin to smile, she continued. "but no more secrets."

Percy’s lips twitched into a small smile, and he nodded. "no more secrets."

She smiled at him, and he smiled at her. And they both knew that maybe not everything was okay just yet, but they would work it out. They were both in silence, except this time it was peaceful knowing that there was no secret between them.

However, as much as Percy was happy, he was also Percy so he couldn't hold the silence for much longer. "have you ever wanted to see New York the way I do?" he asked.

She hesitated, narrowing her eyes at him. "What does that mean?"

He stood up, offering her a hand as his eyes had a certain playful shine on them. "trust me, just let me show you."

And because y/n would follow that boy just about anywhere without any doubt, she took his hand after a second and let herself be pulled by him. It all happened so fast, one moment she's was standing up and the next he had her arms wrapped around her waist, stepping backwards off the ledge of the rooftop.

"Percy!" she shrieked, clinging to him instinctively as they both hung upside down.

"Relax, I’ve got you," he told her, chuckling softly. He started to walk slowly along the side of the building, his movements careful. She clutched onto him tightly, her heart racing from the adrenaline... and maybe from being so close to him again. "I always do."

When they reached a quiet spot where they could see the skyline, he stopped, holding her steady. "Look" he said softly, holding her with one arm as he uses the other to point to the city.

She followed his gaze, her breath hitching at how breathtaking the city lights looked shining beneath them. "it's beautiful, Percy" she mumbled.

"You’re beautiful" he didn’t meant to say it out loud, but he did and maybe he didn’t regret it, because when she looked at him, just a moment, the weight of their recent struggles melted away.

She rolled her eyes, but a small laugh escaped her. And it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. "That’s the corniest thing you’ve ever said."

"hey! I’m trying here" he replied, grinning. "besides, you deserve all the cheesy lines in the world."

y/n shook her head, but she couldn't hide her smile. And maybe, she thought, it isn't perfect at all but it's right. He's right for her. They are right for eachother.

They stayed there, just looking at the city underneath them as the night stretched on until it's was time for her to go back home. With the city humming below, Percy swung her back to her apartment.

The night air felt cold against her face, but thankfully her apartment wasn't far away. in no time, Percy was settling her down on the fire scape by her window.

"home sweet home." she couldn't see his face since he had put on the mask, but she knew he was grinning.

"thank you for dropping me home, quite literally." she smiled at him as she opened her window, but she didn’t step inside just yet because she wanted to be there with him for a longer moment. "and for everything else."

"anytime." once again, y/n wished she could see behind the mask because she could swear he was smiling, and she loved seeing that smile. Percy seemed like he was also buying time before he had to go. "hey, we're ok?"

"we will be" she nodded, and that seemed to be a good enough answer for Percy, who nodded back and took a deep breath.

Not knowing what else to say, she finally stepped into her room. Percy he took a deep breath as he saw her, then legs hooked over the ledge and he hung upside down, his head poking through her winsow.

"good night, y/n" he mumbled softly, ready to swing away. but just as he was turning to leave, she finally spoke.

"wait, Percy" she called for him, making him stop and turn his face back to her almost immediately, he looked alarmed, like he was bracing himself for something terrible to happen.

He was about to ask what was wrong, but y/n didn’t even stop to think before she pulled his mask down, uncovering his lips. Percy, perched outside her window, let out a surprised gasp just as she leaned in and claimed his lips with hers.

Percy's breath caught in his throat as he froze, surprised. But when he finally did react, he steadied himself, and leaned into the kiss, his heart pounding so hard he was afraid it might jump out of his chest at any moment.

The kiss started tentative, a mix of hesitation and longing. But as they melted into each other, the city around them faded away. For the first time in weeks, she felt whole again.

When they finally pulled apart, she could finally see the smile on his face. "and there it is folks, Spider-Man always gets the girl."

She rolled her eyes, swatting his chest lightly, but she couldn't possibly fight the smile tugging at her lips. "You’re impossible."

"And you love it." he replied, his grin widening.

y/n chuckled, looking down at him, her heart full. "I’ll see you soon, Percy," she said, her voice playful yet fond.

"make that tomorrow." He winked at her, then swung away into the night, leaving her standing by the window, knowing that they would be alright.

#percy jackson #percy jackson imagine #one shot #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fluff #spiderman!percy

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sinnabarmoth · 3 days ago

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Broken Promises

Pairing: Rafayel x fem|Reader

Summary: Reader thinks that her relationship with Rafayel is a fling, some casual fun. Rafayel does not. So when he catches her flirting with other guys he is intent on making sure she knows that he did not wait 800 years to be a second choice.

Content warnings: Adult language. Hate fucking. Vaginal fingering. P in V.

Length: 5k

“Thank you for another fine day of work, miss bodyguard.”

You picked your head up from Rafayel’s shoulder and glared at him.

“What’s that face for?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes and sat up, the blanket that had been covering you slipped down exposing your naked chest which Rafayel took no precautions in hiding his ogling. You grabbed his chin and forced his gaze back up to your face. “Do not start calling you tricking me into coming over as work. You know I thought you were in actual danger?”

He melted into your touch, resting his chin fully in your hand like an attention starved puppy. “I was in danger.”

“A teeny tiny spider is not dangerous.” You let him go, crossing your arms over your chest so his view was obstructed.

“Sure it is. Do you know how many tiny spiders are super venomous? Black widow. Brown recluse. Yellow sac spider.” he ticked them off one by one on his fingers.

“Mister fish facts has spider facts too. How fun.” You rolled out of bed and started grabbing your scattered clothes from the floor and pulling them back on. How the hell did your panties get on the lamp? Did he chuck them like he was pitching for the Linkon Lions?

“Do you have to leave?” Rafayel asked, sitting up to watch you move around the room.

“Sure I do. I have work in the morning.”

“I could take you to work in the morning.”

“And wear what? The clothes I was in when I rushed over here? No thanks.” You didn’t think Jenna would be happy to see you at work wearing your lilac sweats and fuzzy character socks.

“I could send someone to pick up an outfit from your house.”

You glanced at him as you pulled your shirt back on. “You are super clingy tonight. Something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong it’s just…” he was staring down at the rumpled sheets of the bed, smoothing out the creases around him, “you always leave so soon after.”

“Well unlike a certain artist, I have duties and errands to run and can’t spend all my day in bed or on the couch…or in the hot tub…or against the wall--”

“Yeah yeah, I get it. You have a million things more important than me.” he slumped back against the headboard. “I’ll just stay here and rot won’t I. Waiting for my bodyguard to come check on me when she feels like it. Who knows if I’ll be even still be alive when she deigns me worthy of her attention.”

“You are so dramatic. Remember that you tricked me into coming over here to squish a spider and then corralled me into the bedroom almost immediately after.” you plonked down on the bed next to him. “If you want me to come over cause you want to have sex then you can just say that. We’re both adults.”

“Takes all the romance out of it then.”

“Now you’re worried about being romantic?” you shook your head. “Will wonders never cease.”

His expression did not soften out of his pout. With a small sigh you scooted closer. “Hey, how about I stop by tomorrow to see you after work. Okay?”

He perked up at that. “Promise?”

“Yeah. I’ll buy us some chicken and we can put on a movie that we will probably abandon watching for some other fun.” You held out a pinky to him. “I promise.”

He looped his pinky finger around yours. “You made a vow. You can’t break it now.”

“You are racking up vows, aren’t you? First to never keep you waiting, now this. If this keeps up we’re gonna have to start writing down all the promises we make.” you teased and his face fell again. Oh no.

You gave a little tug on your intertwined fingers and pulled him closer, placing a quick kiss on his mouth. “There. A vow sealed with a kiss. Feel better?”

“Much.” he smiled softly at you. “See you tomorrow, cutie.”

~~~

The work day was a long and tedious one. You had spent nearly all day patrolling and ended up fighting a whole horde of Wanderers that had taken up in an abandoned warehouse. By the end of the day you were in desperate need of some relaxation and perhaps a stiff drink. So when Tara announced that everyone was going out for drinks after work to celebrate the impressive job you and the other hunters did on raiding the warehouse you were more than happy to come along.

You were two drinks deep and starting on a third. The stress of the day melted away, replaced with the warm fuzziness that was your buzz. Thank goodness it was the weekend so you didn’t need to worry about getting up early with the hangover you were working towards developing.

At some point a drinking game got started. There was a piece of paper that had every body’s name written on it. The point of the game was that if some flipped a coin and it landed on that person’s name they had to drink. If it landed on a blank space they got to write a rule until the paper was completely full.

Soon the paper was full of outlandish rules, each getting progressively more “creative” the longer you went on. It was your turn and you flipped the coin. You had been aiming for Nero’s name and ended up hitting the rule an inch below it. “Text the last person you messaged a bad selfie.”

You sighed but pulled out your phone and brought up the camera. You twisted your face into a funny and unflattering expression and went to your messages. You couldn’t remember the last person you texted and prayed it wasn’t someone embarrassing.

Please don’t be Zayne. Please don’t be Zayne. Please don’t be Zayne!

You let out a small breath of relief seeing that Zayne was not in fact at the top of your messages. Rafayel was. You opened the chat and sent the picture without any context.

You rolled your eyes at your co-worker’s laughter and resumed watching the others play the game. Yet, you could not focus entirely. It felt like you were forgetting something but you couldn’t remember what. Trying to think with your head awash in cocktails wasn’t exactly helping your memory. All your brain was coming up with was chickens.

Well, if you couldn’t remember it couldn’t have been that important.

You leaned over towards the person next to you, he was another hunter but you hadn’t spoken all that much since he wasn’t on Alpha Team. You weren’t sure of his name but maybe it was Jasper or Jordan. To be blunt there wasn’t anything remarkable about him but he did have a very nice face and a rather infectious laugh. His arm had been resting against the back of your chair but now settled on your shoulders.

“So,” you leaned closer to be heard over the music of the bar, “if you are a hunter I’m guessing you have a preference on which weapon you like using.”

“I do.” he said. “Do you want to know?”

“No. I’m gonna guess but first I need your hand.” you held your hand out for him.

“Okay.” he said with an easy smile and held his hand up. “Why?”

“Think of it as palm reading, but instead of telling your future I’m telling your preferred weapon.” you placed your palm against his. “Hmm, yes.” You nodded very seriously before linking your hands together. “It’s coming to me. With big strong hands like this, your preferred weapon is a claymore.”

He smirked at your flirting. “That is quite the talent you have. I do indeed prefer the claymore. After handling it for so long, throwing anything around whether it be light or heavy is a piece of cake.”

“I bet that comes in handy.”

“It sure does.” he tugged you closer. “It comes in very handy for many different…scenarios.”

You couldn’t tell if the heat in your face was from the drink or his implication but either way it made you feel tingly all over.

“So, what are you doing after this?” Jacob or Jasper asked, his face a mere breath away from yours.

You were yanked back so hard you almost tipped out of your chair completely. You scrambled to see who had grabbed you and saw Rafayel standing above you, a fistful of the back of your shirt in his hand. “You broke your promise.”

~~~

Rafayel had felt something was wrong when his alarm went off that told him your shift had ended and he didn’t hear anything from you. Then a half hour had passed and there had still been no word from you. Maybe you had gone home to change. He tried texting you but had gotten no response. Your battery was low, surely. That’s why you hadn’t texted back.

After an hour he had started pacing, more excuses for your absence filtering through his brain. You could have been picking up the chicken like you said and there was a long line. That had to be it.

Two hours went by. Was there traffic?

Three hours. Maybe there was a Wanderer attack. Were you okay?

He was about ready to go out looking for you when a message came through his phone. It was from you! He opened it expecting any number of excuses and apologies but instead it was just a picture. You were at some bar and were making a very stupid face at the camera. That wasn’t what had caught his attention though. It was the arm that was wrapped around you oh so casually. The pig it was attached to was leering at you in the top left corner of the shot.

Rafayel felt many emotions shoot through him in the span of five seconds of seeing your message. Relief. Confusion. Dejection. Anger. Then pure hot resentment.

You had broken your promise to him to go out to a bar with this scumbag that touched you so casually? No. This would not stand. He was going to go get you. He had to study the picture a bit more to figure out which bar you were at. Thankfully there was a cocktail napkin printed with the bar name on it within the shot.

He sped over as fast as he could and burst into the bar. His gaze swept over the bustling room until he saw a large group sitting near the back. You were among them and that pig from the picture was right next to you, his hand laced with yours and hunger in his eyes. He waited to see you pull away, to tell him to fuck off but you didn’t. You leaned in closer, batting your eyelashes and smiling at him in that way that teasing smirk that drew Rafayel crazy. That was meant for him! Why were you flirting with someone else! Why!

He had charged forward as your faces drew closer. No. He would not see you kiss someone else! He would not suffer that indignity tonight as well!

He grabbed the back of our shirt and pulled you swiftly away from the man. The thundering of his heart was pounding in his ears. “You broke your promise.” he seethed.

You blinked and he could see your brain trying to catch up. “Raf--what are--why are you here? Let go of me!”

“Not a chance.” he grabbed you underneath the armpits and pulled you out of your chair. “You have had enough to drink. We are going home.”

“Hey!” the pig stood up. “Who do you think you are? You can’t just take her.”

“She’s my girlfriend and she’s wasted, so I think I am more than justified in getting her out of this dive.” Rafayel started to drag you away. “Come on.”

He dragged you out to the car despite your protests and shoved you into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt for you. Once you were in the car a lot of the fight went out of you. He shoved a water bottle at you and told you to drink as much as you could. When you didn’t oblige he stayed glaring at you until you had swallowed the whole thing. Then he pulled out another and told you to keep drinking. “I need you sober. So keep hydrating.”

By the time Rafayel had gotten back to his house you had drank another full bottle of water and the glassy sheen of drunkenness was ebbing away. The anger and pain his chest was still boiling but he kept his mouth clamped shut until you were inside.

For what felt like forever you stood in the foyer, looking everywhere but at him and not saying a word. When you dared to meet his gaze again he noticed you flinch as guilt shot through you. “Raf, I’m sorry. I had a really stressful day at work and I completely forgot about our chicken and movie plans. I swear I will make it up to you tomorrow--”

“Who the fuck was he?” Rafayel cut you off.

You paused your stammering and stared at him, brows knit in confusion. “What? Who?”

“That pig that was hanging off of you at the bar. Who is he?” he demanded.

“What does that have to do--”

“Answer the question!”

You snapped to attention, shock and indignation sharpening your features. “You do not talk to me like that! I know you’re pissed that I forgot our plans but you do not yell at me like that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Rafayel felt like laughing. Laugh like he was mad. “I want to know why you were flirting with someone else. Did you even realize that he was two seconds from kissing you?”

“Uh yeah? That was kinda the whole point of us flirting. Why are you getting so worked up about this?” you settled your hands on your hips. “Do you know what everyone is going to think now that you announced to all my co-workers that you are my boyfriend? No one is gonna want to get anywhere near me now. Thanks for that.”

“Is that what you want? To be with other people?”

“Wait. I’m confused. When did we ever establish that we were exclusive? I thought this was casual. Why are you being so possessive all of a sudden?” you asked.

“Because you are mine!” he shouted. He charged forward caging you against the wall. “This is not something casual to me and it shouldn’t be for you either! You are mine and mine alone I will be damned if I see someone else lay hands on what belongs to me.”

“Raf, where is all this coming from all of a sudden? Did you really think that we were in some serious arrangement?”

“You promised.” he repeated, angry tears threatening to spill.

“I know. I know. I promised to come over but I told you that I forgot--”

“No. You promised. You always promise. You keep making promises to me and you keep on breaking them! For eight hundred years you’ve been breaking your promises and I am tired of it! No more! You do not get to break my heart any more!” he seized you by the arms, staring into your eyes, willing something to unlock in your mind.

“Why do you never remember?” he said, his voice quieting. “Why do you keep breaking your promises?”

“What are you talking about? Eight hundred years? I don’t know what it is you are upset about. Did the coral finally get to your head now too?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Rafayel couldn’t take this anymore. He slammed his lips to yours, forcing your lips apart and pushing his tongue into your mouth. He did not yield until your tense body melted into his arms and you started to kiss him back.

He pulled back, breathing heavily. “Eight hundred years.” he muttered. “I know you don’t remember but I am going to make you. I am going to remind you in one way or another that you have always been mine. That you will only ever be mine. If I cannot make your mind remember then I will emblazon it on your body, etch my name into your bones so you never forget again.”

“Rafayel, why--”

“Yes or no?” he said, desperate to claim you but refused to move without your consent. “That’s all I need.”

“Are you going to talk to me about what the fuck is going on in that head of yours?” you snapped, impatience stoking you back into a rage.

Yes. Be angry. Be vengeful. But be mine.

“After.” his hands moved to your hips, pressing your body against his. “Now yes or no?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

His lips were back on yours, pouring all the frustration and desire he had into it. Mine. He thought. Only mine.

You started to slump as your knees buckled and he pulled back, keeping his arms locked around you as you made your way deeper into the studio. There was a fire roiling through his blood and it screamed at him to make you his. He didn’t have the patience to take you to the bedroom and instead tossed you onto the couch when it came into view.

He hovered above you and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to look at him. Your lips were parted and panting slightly, eyes wide with rage and lust and defiance. By the tides he loved it. He loved everything about you. If only you would say the same of him.

He kissed you again until you were breathless. There was still a taste of alcohol on your tongue. It tasted like rum and oranges, the sear and tang of summer overwhelming his senses with every swipe of your tongue against his. He wanted to get drunk off the taste. Wanted nothing else but reminders of you. Your taste, your scent, your warmth.

He left your swollen lips to trail his mouth down your neck, sucking dark bruises onto the sensitive flesh. A gasp left your mouth as his teeth sunk down above your pulse. You had always been so adamant about not leaving marks where other people could see them. Well no more. Everyone would know you were spoken for. No one would be able to question who you belonged to ever again. You included.

His free hand fumbled for the buttons of your shirt before impatience took over and he ripped it open instead. Buttons popped from their seams and flew off in different directions as your body was finally exposed to him.

“Hey! This is a work shirt!” you huffed, picking at one of the buttons that still held onto the shirt by a stretched thread.

“I’ll buy you another.” he slid the ruined shirt off and continued the descent of his mouth down your chest. “If you don’t want the rest of your clothes to meet the same fate, I’d advise in taking them off quickly.”

“Raf--”

“You have ten seconds. Be quick.” he stood up and started counting down.

It took you a moment to catch on that he was not indeed joking and to spare your clothes from decimation you quickly untied and tugged off your boots and were trying your best to shimmy out of your pants. Rafayel also began to shrug out of clothes, not as panicked as you were as he kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt off over his head. By the time he got to zero you had just managed to kick your pants off and were reaching for the clasp of your bra.

“Too slow.” he pinned you back against the couch his knee slotting in the spaced between your legs, pressing close to your clothed cunt. You tried to stifle it but he heard the low whine of arousal that hummed in your throat. He pressed knee closer, letting you grind on it. He could feel wet you were getting. The evidence of your arousal soaking through your panties and wetting his pants.

He reached around behind your back and undid the clasp that held your bra in place and tore it off. You were lost in your own little world, grinding against his leg like an animal in heat. Your sweet moans filled the air as his hands cupped your breasts an tweaked your nipples into hard peaks. So sweet. So beautiful. And all of it his. At least, it should have been. The idea that someone out there possibly had seen this version of you, had driven you into this state made his blood boil. Who else had you been with when you weren’t with him? Had you ever left him and gone off to be with someone else? Did you moan for them like you did for him? Did you speak such filthy and beautiful words in their ears like you did with him? How many others had been tasting your lips after him?

“How long?” he asked, eyes trained on your face.

Your eyes which had been closed in ecstasy cracked open again. “What?” you breathed out.

“How long have you been flirting with others?” he said and your eyes widened. “Answer me.”

“I thought you said we were going to talk about this after.” you said. “Why--ah!” he gave a sharp squeeze to your breast.

“Answer the question.”

“I--I don’t know.” your hips kept moving, kept pushing yourself closer to the sweet release your body craved. You were getting close, he could tell.

“Yes you do. Now answer. Have you been flirting with others the entire time we’ve been together?”

“Raf--”

He pulled back, leaving you cold and panting against the couch, your precious orgasm right out of reach. “Answer or this ends now.”

“Yes.” you answered, your voice quiet. “I guess you could say it was happening the entire time, even before we met.”

Icy dread so cold it felt like burning coursed through him. He pushed you down so you were sprawled across the cushions of the couch. His hand pushed against the soaked materials of your panties, teasing your clit through the cotton.

“And how many touched you like this, hm?” he rubbed your clit harder. “How many of them did you fuck?”

“None of them. I promise. I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” That was a small relief. Your body had remained his, but what of your heart?

He pushed the material aside and plunged two fingers into your weeping hole. “And why not?” he continued, stretching your walls and curling his fingers in the way he knew drove you mad with want. “You had no problem flirting with them. Letting them touch you, letting them kiss you. Why not give your body over completely? Is that where your conscience kicked in? Remembered you already had someone when things got that far, did you?”

“Didn’t--didn’t--” you were struggling to form words, “Didn’t like them that much.”

“So if you liked them more you’d let them touch you like this?” his thumb pressed against your swollen clit, adding to the sensations you were already feeling. “You’d let them put their fingers in you, touch your most sensitive spots, let them taste how sweet your arousal is? All it would take is a few more sweet words and you’d let them fuck you. Drive their dick into you like they own it, own you. Is that what you’re saying.”

“No. No--fuck! Raf, I never wanted to fuck any of them.” your words kept wavering as he kept you dancing just out of reach of release. “I promise.”

There was that word again. Promise.

“Your promises mean nothing anymore. You’ve proven that.” his pace got faster and your legs squirmed and kicked as your orgasm raced forward with frightening speed. “Why should I believe you this time?”

It was as if his words had ignited something hot in you The wanton need and delirium of pleasure snapped and you surged up as your pussy clamped down hard on his fingers, arousal gushing from your hole as you came. You had grabbed him by the shoulders and forced your mouth against his, kissing him hungrily. You kept pushing, forcing him down against the couch, trapping him under you just as he had done.

You pulled away, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth as you withdrew. The momentary bliss was gone when he saw the rage written across your face. You sat straddled across him, chest heaving in the aftermath of your orgasm. You hastily unbuckled his belt and were shoving his pants further down his hips so his cock was free from their confines. “Now listen here and listen well you prima donna!” you growled, teasing the wet tip of his cock in your hand. “You are going to believe me when I say this: I never wanted to fuck any of the people I flirted with. That’s all it ever was, flirting. If you wanted us to be something more serious you should have fucking said so sooner!”

His nostrils flared as you worked over the hard flesh of his erection. He tried to grab you but you smacked his hands away. “You do not get to be angry at me for treating what we have as something casual cause that is all you have ever treated it as too.”

“It was never casual for me!” he snapped back. You gave a hard squeeze and his head fell back. “Fuck--that’s not fair.”

“Neither were your methods.” you reminded him. “Now, you said you wanted to etch your name onto my bones so I never forgot you. Well that is a two way street, you know. If you want to sear yourself into my memory then I get to do the same to you.”

“Trust me,” he said, eyes dark with desire, “You already are.”

You sat back, angling yourself as you lowered yourself onto him. You watched his gaze slide from your face down to where you were connected, watching his cock sink in and out of you. You rode him hard, pulling up till only the tip remained inside before slamming back down on him again. He steadied you by holding your thighs, pushing them wider when he wanted you to sink down deeper on him.

It didn’t matter how many times you had sex. Every time he had you like this it felt like he was in some amazing dream he did not want to wake up from. But you were no dream. You were real. So breathtakingly and heartbreakingly real. And you were with him, wanting him, riding him, eyes begging him and only him for pleasure and release no one else could come close to giving you.

His hips moved to thrust up into you, needing more. Needing to mark you in a way that you never forgot in this life or the next or the one another eight hundred years from now.

Your thrusts got shallower and faster as he hit some wonderful spot in your pussy that had you seeing stars. Your legs were shaking and started to lose their rhythm. Your body collapsed forward, laying on top of him. He kept hold of your ass, forcing your hips to keep moving as you moaned and panted, nails scratching down his chest.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! Raf! Raf!” you started squirming again, release so close you could taste it. At least, that’s what he figured with your tongue hanging out of your mouth. He craned his neck to taste it, pull your mouth onto his and made you swallow his own moans.

Your pussy was so hot and wet and it was squeezing the life out of him. He never wanted to leave. He wanted to mount the pair of you on a pedestal in this embrace, immortalized in shining marble. Scholars and lovers would come from all over the galaxy to study the love and lust your coupling represented. Women would desire to be you and men would envy him for having claimed something so perfect as his own. But none would know just how good you were. How your lips felt pressed against their own, what your arousal tasted like, or what little things turned you into a screaming moaning mess. This was all his to know and no one else.

“Let go.” he murmured against your lips, “I know you want to come. Go ahead, let go and come for me. Oh fuck please! Be a good girl and come all over me. Please!” he stressed. He felt himself about to blow but he’d be damned if he left you behind.

“Raf! Raf! Fuck Raf! Want to! Want to come!” Tears were leaking out of your eyes. “Want to be yours. Want to--want to--fuck! Make me! Make me yours!”

“Yes. Be mine! Be mine! Be only mine!” He crushed your mouth back against his. He wedged one hand between you and found your swollen and neglected clit, rubbing it gracelessly to give you that final little push you needed.

“Ah!” your voice pitched an octave.

“Keep your eyes open.” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Look at me when you come. Look at me!”

You forced your eyes open despite the pleasure wracking your body telling you to close them. “Raf…ay…el…” his name was but a struggled whisper before your cunt clamped down around him and the tremors of your body seized as you were thrown into your orgasm.

Rafayel followed shortly behind, his eyes never leaving yours as the tides of pleasure washed in and out and away. The shaking of your body stilled and you stayed flush against him, chests heaving and hearts hammering as the adrenaline wore off.

After several long minutes of silence you spoke again in a quiet voice, devoid of any malice. “Rafayel?”

He almost wished you hadn’t said anything. He didn’t want to ruin this peaceful moment. But you probably had questions. “What is it?”

“You said it was never casual for you.” you traced patterns across his chest. “What did you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” he tilted your chin up to look at him. “After eight hundred years of waiting I finally have you back and you think I was going to want anything less than all of you?”

“Again with this eight hundred years thing.” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I get that you’re older than you look but I am not eight hundred years old, Rafayel. If you are projecting some lost love onto me--”

“It’s not projection. It is you. It has only ever been and only ever will be you.” he could see the war in your eyes, trying to reconcile what he was saying.

He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. “We promised. I know you don’t remember but I do. We made a vow and you cannot break it. We are bonded, always have been, always will be.”

“Do…” you took a shaky breath, “Do you love me?”

“It is a tragedy you even have to ask.” he cupped your cheek. “But yes, I do. And I will do anything to make sure you stay mine.”

“Well,” you cleared your throat, snuggling against him further. “I think you definitely staked your claim. But even if I am this same person from eight hundred years ago, what makes you think me and her are in any way the same? Do you want me to be more like her or something? Just how far is this going to go?”

“I never want you to be anything less than who you are. You don’t have to be her because there is no her to be. I just want you in whatever way you come.” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Okay?”

“Okay.” you smiled. “And I promise, really actually promise, that I will not flirt with anyone that is not you.”

“Because you love me?” he teased with a dopey smile.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah. Because I love you.”

-----------

A/N: Hi, so this was my first foray into fanfic for this particular fandom. As it is I'm still fairly new so a lot of my characterization is based off of limited knowledge and vibes. That being said I hope you liked it and if you have other prompts for me whether they be angsty, spicy, or fluffy I'd be glad to have a crack at them. Love ya!

#this got out of hand so fast #love and deepspace #lads mc #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #letterbox prompt

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