#a little brother on her hands and no one to turn to. to lean on. no one to take care of her

[idkyetxoxo]

Cregan Stark - Northern Frost Southern Sun

Summary - In the unforgiving North, a Southern princess struggles with her political marriage to Cregan, feeling like an outsider. As she voices her insecurities, their bond deepens, transforming their alliance into a passionate connection that bridges the divide between their worlds.

Pairing - Cregan Stark x Martell reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2124

Masterlist for Cregan • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Born into nobility, my life had always felt scripted—a path inked not by my own desires but by the hands of the men around me. 

My father, my uncle, my brother, even the echoes of my grandfather shaped the walls around me. 

As a daughter of House Martell, the rulers of sun-drenched Dorne, my existence was predetermined, my fate a strategy in the game of thrones woven by my father, Prince Qoren Martell himself. 

A Martell daughter, after all, was a prize to be bartered, and he had chosen a formidable match.

He pledged me to Cregan Stark, Lord of House Stark, in the distant, unforgiving North. 

A union as calculated as it was unfeeling, our marriage was intended to bind the desert heat of Dorne with the ice and shadows of Winterfell. 

It was a pact, a quiet promise to fortify our realms and maintain a precarious balance in the ever-shifting powers of Westeros. My father assured me it was for our people, for peace. 

But I knew what the alliance would cost me: the endless winds that sliced through bone, the chill that would burrow into my soul, the lonely shadows that clung to Winterfell's walls like phantoms.

The North was all I had dreaded—an imposing land where silence lingered thickly in the air, and winter settled in more than just the stones. 

Every breath was laced with frost, every glance held a guarded judgment, as if they wondered if this southern-born woman could ever survive in a world so different, so grim. 

And always, there were whispers—"the Dornish wife"—spoken softly yet deliberately, trailing me like spectres through the dim corridors.

Yet amid the cold and the solitude, Cregan Stark surprised me. 

He was not the man I had envisioned: distant and unyielding, a creature as cold as the land he ruled. 

Instead, Cregan had a quiet strength, a kindness that seemed out of place in such a harsh land. He understood, perhaps better than I, the challenges I faced here. 

With subtle gestures and quiet assurances, he tried to ease my discomfort, his attentions more thoughtful than I'd dared hope. He never pressed, but he was there—a grounding presence, a warmth that, little by little, began to soften the edges of my isolation.

A moon had passed since our union. I was neither entirely happy nor entirely sorrowful; I was simply... here. 

Somewhere between contentment and restlessness, caught in a place that wasn't mine yet somehow, piece by piece, was becoming so. 

Winterfell was no closer to being home, but Cregan's attentions made the frigid halls more bearable, his patience an anchor as I drifted, my heart searching for familiarity in a sea of foreignness.

One evening, as twilight painted the snow in hues of indigo and grey, I stood on the balcony, gazing out across Winterfell. 

The frosty landscape stretched endlessly, an ocean of cold where dawn seemed forever on the edge of arriving but never quite here. 

As I watched the endless expanse of snow, I remembered the hot, golden sands of Sunspear. 

In Dorne, the sun-kissed our skin, the scent of ripe figs and sea salt filled the air. Here, every corner held a chill, every shadow seemed to whisper secrets.

In that stillness, I heard a voice—a voice I had come to know well, warm yet edged with the subtle command of a lord.

"What's on your mind?" Cregan's words reached me, low and tender.

Startled, I turned to see him leaning on the railing beside me, his gaze thoughtful. His presence was a welcome warmth, and yet I found myself instinctively closing in, the winter wind cutting through my gown.

"Nothing," I replied, a feeble defence as my voice carried softly into the chill.

He studied me quietly, his eyes catching the slight shiver that ran through me as the wind nipped at my shoulders. 

"Doesn't look like 'nothing,'" he said, his voice low. "You're cold. Come inside." 

Without waiting for my reply, he draped his cloak over my shoulders, guiding me toward the warmth of our chambers, stopping by the hearth as the flames crackled to life.

"I don't belong," I murmured, staring into the fire. My fingers traced the thick Northern fabric of my gown—a cloth I'd hoped would make me feel less like an outsider. 

The weight of the words hung between us as if spoken aloud for the first time, stirring the silence in the dim room.

"What do you mean, my love?" Cregan's voice broke the quiet, a softness I hadn't expected. 

He turned to face me, his eyes searching mine with a rare vulnerability as if my answer mattered more than the words themselves.

I took a long, steadying breath, watching the flames dance and trying to gather the right words. 

"They still see me as different," I whispered. "A stranger, from a land they neither know nor trust. I try to blend in, to be... what I think they want. But sometimes, I wonder if they'll ever truly see me as one of their own." 

My voice trembled as the truth spilt out, deeper than I'd intended. "They whisper, Cregan when they think I can't hear. They don't trust me. And some days, I'm not sure they ever will."

Cregan listened in silence, his gaze steady and unwavering. 

Without a word, he reached for my hand, his calloused fingers rough yet gentle as they enveloped mine, grounding me in the midst of my insecurities.

"Give them time," he said softly, his voice like a balm. "The North can be as harsh as winter itself, slow to warm, but it's not unyielding." 

His hand lifted my chin, guiding my gaze up to meet his. In his eyes, I saw not just kindness, but an unwavering strength, as if he could will my doubts away by the force of his conviction alone.

"You belong here, with me," he said, his voice a quiet promise. "No whispers or frost will ever change that."

I felt his words settle over me like a cloak, their warmth reaching parts of my heart I hadn't realized were cold. But still, uncertainty lingered, stubborn and unrelenting. 

Perhaps sensing my hesitation, Cregan shifted closer, his presence wrapping around me like an unbreakable fortress.

He cupped my cheek with a tenderness that both surprised and soothed me. 

"You are the heat I've always been missing," he murmured, his voice low and thick with meaning. 

Slowly, his hand drifted down, sliding under the folds of my gown with a touch that sent a shiver through me—a sensation born not of the cold, but of something deeper.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a laugh escaping as I fought back my nervousness.

"Showing you." His voice was gentle, a playful glint in his eyes. "Showing you that you belong."

With a tender confidence, his hands moved, sending ripples through me that melted the tension from my body. 

His touch was warm and steady, his fingers tracing up my sides, and for the first time since coming to the North, I felt my fears begin to ease as if his presence alone could erase them. 

The doubts, the whispers—they all faded as his hands explored, each caress a quiet reassurance.

His gaze held mine, unwavering, and in that moment, there was an intimacy that transcended touch, a promise woven in the quiet between us. 

He leaned in, his lips finding mine, capturing them with a gentleness that made me feel like I was being seen for the first time. His kiss was both soft and fervent, his lips warm as they moved against mine, igniting a fire that outmatched any northern hearth.

As his hands roamed over my body, rough and calloused from years of wielding steel, they were uncharacteristically gentle, tracing the lines of my skin as if memorizing each curve. 

His fingers held a kind of reverence, as if I were something precious, not just the wife bound to him by a political alliance but a person who was cherished.

In that moment, he lifted me, guiding me slowly towards the bed, never once breaking the kiss. 

I felt myself sink into the softness of the furs as he laid me down, the flickering fire casting its amber glow across the room, cocooning us in its warmth. 

There was a tenderness in his touch as he caressed me, his movements slow and purposeful, each gesture a quiet declaration.

The world outside the chamber ceased to exist; there was no cold, no looming suspicion, no whispers echoing down the corridors. 

Only Cregan and the fire between us, burning bright and fierce.

His lips trailed down my neck, each kiss a spark that sent warmth radiating through me. He paused, his gaze seeking mine as his hand found the ties of my gown, his touch both reverent and questioning. 

I met his eyes, giving him the permission he silently sought, and with careful, deliberate movements, he began to untie it, each pull of the fabric a slow unveiling.

As the gown slipped away, leaving me bare before him, I felt no vulnerability, only an overwhelming sense of being cherished. 

Cregan's eyes held nothing but admiration, and in that look, he banished every doubt, every whisper that had haunted me since I'd arrived in the North.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice raw and thick with emotion. "So beautiful."

His words soaked into me, warming those fragile places hidden within, and I felt myself drawn to him, my fingers threading into his hair, pulling him close. 

His warmth was a balm, a grounding presence I needed as his lips found mine, slow and deliberate, speaking promises only we could hear.

With a practised, fluid ease, he shed the last of his clothes, his gaze never breaking from mine. 

His bare skin met mine in a press that was both electric and soothing, each inch of contact igniting a surge of feeling, of completeness that made me gasp. 

His hands traced down my sides, exploring the curves and lines of my body, as if they held secrets he'd yearned to know. 

Every touch, every brush of his fingers sent shivers across my skin.

He lowered himself, aligning our bodies with a reverence that made my heart ache. 

When he settled between my thighs, his touch shifted, moving from a delicate exploration to a quiet, steady possession. 

His grip on me tightened, anchoring me beneath him, and his eyes held a ferocity that was matched by the tenderness in his touch. He was wholly mine, and I, his.

"You're mine," he whispered his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through me. "Mine."

"Yes," I breathed, my fingers pressing into his shoulders as I clung to him, letting myself believe it. "Yours."

He moved with a deliberate rhythm, each thrust a declaration, an unspoken vow that silenced the doubts within me. 

Every part of me, every fragment I thought too broken to matter, felt seen, treasured. 

The warmth grew between us, winding up in intensity as he continued, his movements steady, yet laced with a simmering need that built with each passing moment.

His hands roamed over me, possessive yet reverent, fingers tracing gentle lines along my skin. His lips left trails of warmth, soft whispers mingling with our breaths. 

The connection between us thrummed with a strength that felt sacred, binding us beyond words, deeper than the physical.

Our rhythm intensified, his hands gripping my waist, his lips capturing my moans as we chased the rising wave together. 

The air was thick with the sounds of our bodies, the soft crackle of the fire, the murmurs of our whispered names.

In that moment, there was no North or South, no whispers of "the Dornish wife." There was only Cregan and me, bound together by a love that had taken root in the most unlikely of places.

When the climax came, it hit with a force that left us breathless, a bliss that surged through us like fire and water, fierce yet softening. 

He held me through it, our breaths mingling as we trembled in the aftermath, our hearts beating as one.

Cregan collapsed beside me, his arms wrapping around me as he pulled me close. We lay there in the afterglow, our bodies entwined, the fire casting a soft glow over us.

"You belong here," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my soul. "With me."

"I do," I replied, my heart swelling with a newfound certainty. "I belong with you."

As I drifted off to sleep in his arms, I knew that no matter the challenges we might face, we would face them together. 

The North might be cold and unforgiving, but with Cregan by my side, I felt a warmth that could withstand any storm. 

And in his embrace, I found not just a home, but a love that would endure.

A/n - I am such a sucker for any Dornish reader works 😝

Cregan tag list - @veesuguru

[samoschier]

✧˖*°࿐ 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄

series masterlist

—𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎. now go stand in the corner (and think about what you did)

𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐚, 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐝𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐡

Trying to deal with the aftermath of your boyfriend cheating on you with your best friend is hard... But it becomes a little easier when the perfect opportunity for revenge suddenly presents itself.

You were done crying over Luke Hughes. Too many tears had been shed the night you broke up, and you refused to shed anymore— even when he was glued to the side of some girl you had never seen before, barely a month after your relationship ended.

It felt impossible to stop staring at the picture. Jack was the one that posted it, Luke wouldn’t dare, not when you still followed him. Or maybe he would, everything you thought you knew about the kind of person he was had been thrown out the window weeks ago.

Jack probably didn’t even realize that Luke was in the background, sitting next to some blonde girl with his arm thrown around her. She’s halfway into his lap and you hold back the urge to scoff.

“Okay, no.” Your phone is promptly snatched from your hand, and before you can react, your best friend has quickly turned it off and slid the phone into her pocket, just out of arm's reach. 

“Chelsea—” you sigh, exasperated.

“Absolutely not.” She stares you down with a look that’s eerily similar to that of a mother’s. “I will not allow you to stare at this picture and wallow in self pity while Luke Hughes is out there sticking his dick into anything that moves.”

“Don’t say his name.” You sink further into your bed, pulling up the hood of your too-big hoodie that had been stolen from your brother’s closet long ago. 

“I can’t believe you still follow him, and his brothers.” Chelsea shakes her head, speaking up again before you have a chance to defend yourself. “He’s lucky I haven’t strangled him already, especially after what he did.”

The reason behind your break up still lingers, and no matter how much you wish you could forget about it, you seem to be reminded of it at every corner. At least it was summer, and you wouldn't be subjected to seeing Luke Hughes every time you walked around campus.

Your eyes drift over to the cluster of pictures that decorates the space above your desk. There are noticeable gaps, empty squares of white that stick out like a sore thumb against the colorful collage. 

There had been photos there, ones of you and the girl that was supposed to be your best friend since kindergarten, ones of you and Luke throughout your relationship, until you ripped them down with tears in your eyes.

Even now it was still hard to believe that she could do that to you, that they could do that to you. It makes your body heave with exhaustion. You were so tired of feeling like this, so tired of the ache that ran rampant across your heart.

So tired of being the only one heartbroken meanwhile Luke was off in New Jersey with his brother having what seemed to be the time of his life. 

The sound of running water from the bathroom stopped, and you could hear as Luke stepped out of the shower. Right as he did, a ding! From his phone caught your attention.

“Luke!” You called out, “you got a text.”

“Will you read it for me?” He asked, voice muffled from behind the door.

Without responding, you lean over from your spot on his bed, reaching for his phone that’s face down against the nightstand. The screen lights up as you turn it over. The name that pops up on the screen makes you furrow your brows. Why was she texting Luke?

You type his password in before clicking on the message. Your face drops, and you can feel your heart beating so loudly in your chest that you can’t hear Luke call out your name from behind the bathroom door.

It doesn’t register in your head the first time you read it, you have to read it a second time, and even then it's hard to believe what the words on the screen say. 

“I know we’ve already talked about this and you don’t want to tell her but she deserves to know. I know you said that you guys were on a break, but it never should’ve happened. We never should’ve slept together and I feel horrible about it. So either tell her about it or I will.”

When Luke calls out your name for a second time, you hear it. He’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

He scrunches his face in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t say anything, can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you stand up, phone in hand before shoving it into his chest. He stumbles, clearly taken aback by it.

Luke’s brows furrow before taking a look at what’s on his phone that has you so upset. His face drops, and then the yelling starts.

“You don’t unders—”

“I swear to God, Luke, if you try and come up with an excuse right now I’m going to slap the shit out of you.” Your jaw clenched, a futile attempt to hold back the tears that are beginning to well up and blur your vision ever so slightly. 

You can’t even look at him, can’t stand the pleading look in his eyes. Though, it’s hard to tell whether he actually feels guilty about it, or if he’s just sorry he got caught. Everything you thought you knew about the kind of person he was feels different now.

“Just let me explain.”

Tears are falling down your cheeks at this point, but even now you can’t help but scoff. “Explain? Explain what?”

“How you fucked my best friend— a girl I’ve known since we were kids, and didn’t even have the decency to tell me.” The way Luke lowers his head, casting his eyes downward in shame does nothing but set you off. “Explain how I had to find out through a text?”

“Were you even going to tell me?

The question is followed by silence, which is an answer in itself. Luke won’t look at you, even though he’s the one who did it. He’s the one that made that decision, and he won’t even take accountability for it. 

“When did it happen?” You ask, and it makes Luke look up at you, face scrunched in confusion, like he couldn’t possibly understand why you would want to know the details of him sleeping with another girl.

It takes him a moment to gather his words. “Uh, it was over spring break, when I was in New Jersey.”

The room goes silent as you process what he’s told you. Your voice cracks when you finally speak up again. “This happened almost two months ago?”

Luke takes a moment to respond. “We were on a break, I didn’t think it was worth mention—”

You attempt a scoff. “Just because we were on a break doesn‘t give you the right to sleep with someone else, and the fact that you didn’t think it was worth mentioning is… astounding.” 

You search his face for any sign of guilt, and if it’s there you can’t seem to find it. He doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t apologize, doesn’t beg for forgiveness, just stands and stares at you, like this whole situation is just an inconvenience for him. 

The sudden urge to leave washes over you, unable to look at Luke any longer. Before you know it, you’re grabbing all of your things, but Luke is quick to try and stop you.

“Come on, don’t leave, can’t we just—” he goes to grab your arm, but you yank yourself out of his grasp, tears still streaming down your face.

“No, Luke! We can’t do anything about this, there’s no coming back from sleeping with my best friend.” Your tone is accusatory, and you can’t bring yourself to stand there any longer, not caring about anything else that could possibly come from Luke Hughes’s mouth. You’re almost to the door when you realize that there’s one more thing you want to get off your chest. 

“I would’ve never done this to you.”

That was the last time you’d seen him. You’d gone straight home that night, letting Chelsea comfort you while you cried yourself to sleep. Luke brought your stuff over a few days later, per Chelsea’s request.

You refused to talk to him, even after he blew your phone up with messages, though none of them were an apology. He tried to talk Chelsea into letting him into your apartment so he could talk to you, but she was quick to slam the door in his face. 

When Hailey texted you, however, you were torn. Explaining that she was upset with how you found out and that it shouldn’t have been that way. Apologizing that it ever happened in the first place. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

Which brings you to now, coping with the aftermath that comes from no longer having a boyfriend or a best friend in your life. 

It’s two weeks before the start of your junior year, and you’re sitting on the couch watching a movie with Chelsea when you get a text. It makes you furrow your brows and you nudge Chelsea with your elbow, angling your phone so she can look at the screen.

She turns to you with a puzzled expression. “Why is Mark Estapa texting you?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I know they’re already back at school, so he must've just told them we broke up. I don’t know why Mark would be texting me about it though.”

Right as you finish your sentence, another text from him comes through, one that makes your eyebrows shoot to the sky. 

Hey, sorry to hear about you and Luke.

Feel free to hit me up if you ever need anything. 

The two of you turn to look at each other, Chelsea with a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh. No words are able to come out of your mouth when she takes your phone from you. She reads the text over again.

“Feel free to hit me up if you ever need anything?” Her mouth is agape, rereading the text once again like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. Chelsea laughs. “Oh, he wants you.”

You roll your eyes, reaching up to try and take your phone back but she holds it just out of reach. “No, he does not. He’s just being nice.”

Chelsea gives you a look. “No guy texts his homeboy’s ex after they break up just to be nice.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up, shaking your head at the girl, but the fun quickly ends when you realize she’s typing something. “Chelsea, what are you doing?”

She smirks and by the time you finally snatch your phone back to see what she’s doing, a text back has already been sent. Your jaw drops when you read what she’s written.

“I appreciate that, maybe I will, winky-face.” Your eyes went round, just completely astounded. You groaned. “Chelsea, he’s already seen it, what am I gonna do?”

“Well,” she starts, and you already know you’re not going to like what she has to say. “You could just fuck him.”

You swear your head has never whipped around so fast. “Chelsea!”

“What?” She laughs, shrugging her shoulders as if what she just said wasn’t at all out of pocket. “Come on, think about it. It’s like, the perfect way to get back at that dick.”

You sink further into the couch, glancing up to stare at your friend. “How is sleeping with one of his friends going to make this any better?”

Chelsea grins. “You wouldn’t be sleeping with just his friend, Mark’s like one of his best friends. They literally live together, could you imagine the look on Luke’s face if he saw you there with Mark?”

You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for her to keep going, but suddenly an expression crosses her face. You squinted at Chelsea, not liking the way her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I have an idea.”

“No.”

She promptly ignores you, adjusting her seat on the couch so she’s cross legged and facing you completely. “What if you got with all of them?”

You blinked. “All of who?”

“Luke’s friends.”

An incredulous look crosses your face. “Do you know how many friends Luke has?”

Chelsea lets out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t mean like every single one of his friends, just the ones he’s really close with. You know, like Mark and the rest of their group. It would be the perfect way to get revenge.”

Suddenly, you realize exactly who she means. “They’re not going to get with their best friend’s ex-girlfriend, they wouldn’t do that to him.”

“Mark would.” Chelsea smirked. When you didn’t immediately speak up to disagree she kept going.

You open your mouth to speak up, but promptly close it, letting Chelsea continue her ramble. She did have a point, but you were still unsure. Doing this just kind of felt exactly what he did to you, and you meant what you said; that you would’ve never done that to him. You understood that the circumstances were different, of course, you and Luke were no longer together so it wasn’t exactly what he did to you. 

You went back and forth in a mental debate before finally shaking your head. “I don’t think so, Chelsea. I just… at this point the last thing I want to think about is Luke. All I want to do is move on from this whole thing.”

Chelsea sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “Okay. If that’s what you want, then I won’t bring it up again.”

Reaching over, you grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you.”

As promised, she didn’t bring it up again for the rest of the night, and by the time you woke up in the morning, you’d almost forgotten all about it. It was around midday, though, when you found yourself scrolling on Instagram that you saw it. 

You shoot straight up, elbows no longer resting on the counter top like they were previously, and for the first time since the break up you find yourself angry, rather than upset. You screenshot the picture and zoom in, making sure you’re not just seeing things.

You’re not. 

You scoff, it’s a picture of Luke and some girl, his arm around her shoulders, but that’s not what has you upset. It's what she’s wearing, a necklace around her neck that’s yours. The one you were so upset about when you couldn’t find it because it meant so much to you.

You send the screenshot to Chelsea, typing out a message to go with it.

I take back what I said.

I want to get revenge.

— hope you guys enjoyed the intro, and if you did then there’s more where that came from

— i don’t have a set schedule for when i’m going to be updating, i am a college student so i’m pretty busy but i will try and get chapters out as quick as i can

— with that being said, remember my inbox is always open, feel free to ask me any thing you want to about the series (i’ll try and answer without spoiling anything as best i can) or if you just want to chat that’s okay too :)

[corroded-hellfire]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRESrvDc/

Omg please make this an AYW one shot like imagine Luke and Ryan going big brother mode on someone messing with Eliza

This is the relationship I aspire for my future children to have. My first thought was, "Eddie needs to be told this is a joke so he doesn't freak out even more than the boys." lol

Words: 1.8k

[As You Wish masterlist]

"This gonna be so funny!"

Eddie comes to a halt outside Eliza's room. The mischievous tone to her voice reminded Eddie of a scheming goblin he'd seen in some fantasy movie somewhere. Normally, he'd associate that comparison more with Luke than tiny three-year-old Eliza, but she was certainly well on her way to earning her own title. 

A thought occurs to your husband: what if Luke and Eliza are working together? Whoever the target is doesn't stand a chance. The surge of panic has him pushing the slightly ajar door open to make sure there isn't some diabolical plan to burn the kitchen down in protest of having vegetables with dinner tonight. It's a complete shock to the system though, when Eddie sees you sitting on the soft pink carpet, cross-legged as your daughter sits across from you. Both of your beautiful faces turn to look at him and Eddie is simultaneously amused and leery of the maniacal smile on Eliza's small pink mouth. 

"Um..." Eddie hums, eyes going back and forth between you and Eliza. "What's going on here?"

"Oh, nothing," you say far too casually to be believable. 

"We gonna get the boys!"

Eliza's admission has you looking back at her, internally reminding yourself that it's good she tells the truth—even if she's a snitch at the moment.

Eddie chuckles and rests his shoulder against the doorjamb. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows at the two of you.

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm!" Eliza replies. "Cause they ate my noodles. After Mama writed my name on them!"

It doesn't surprise Eddie in the least. The two growing teenage boys would eat anything and everything in sight. He never thought his food would be safer in the fridge at work than in the one at home. 

"What exactly are we planning, ladies?" Eddie cocks an eyebrow, making you feel like a child right alongside your kid. "Not anything I'll have to clean up after, I hope."

"Oh, don't worry." You wave a dismissive hand at your husband. "It's just a joke to see how they react."

"To what?"

"Shhh!" Eliza pushes herself up and rushes forward to cover your mouth with her little hands. It's impossible not to laugh against her palms as she looks at you with imploring eyes. 

Gently, you remove her hands from your face and tug her so she's sitting in your lap.

"Nothing bad," you assure Eddie. "I promise."

Eddie didn't need you to tell him that; he trusts you with not only his own life but the lives of all the kids as well. You would never do anything that would hurt them. 

"Can I watch?" he asks.

Eliza nods. "But you gotta hide!"

"Where?"

"They're watching tv, right?" you ask, maneuvering Eliza to the side so you're able to stand up. 

"Yeah. Some movie with Jack Black starting a band of children."

Eliza grabs your hand in hers as the two of you head towards the door. 

"We'll walk through there and into the kitchen," you explain. "You can stay in the hallway and peek out. And remember..." You reach up and lovingly tap Eddie's right cheek. "What we're going to say isn't true. It's part of the prank."

Eddie's brow furrows and he tilts his chin up.

"That doesn't sound reassuring."

"Is a joke, Daddy!" Eliza explains, making you giggle. 

"Alright, alright," Eddie laments, leaning down to playfully pinch her nose. She swiftly bats his hand away and ducks between the two of you out into the hall. 

You follow out behind her, motioning for your husband to follow behind—but at a distance. He nods in understanding and keeps a few paces behind his favorite girls. 

As you approach the living room, Eliza starts to giggle. You widen your eyes at her and hold your finger up to your lips, reminding her she has to act serious if she wants her brothers to buy your act. She nods and follows your lead to take a deep breath. 

You motion for her to head out into the room the boys are relaxing in. She strolls out, alarmingly casual for a three-year-old playing a prank. Before you follow out after her, you look over your shoulder and share a look of amusement with Eddie.

"Your daughter," you whisper, not giving your husband time to respond before following behind her. Quietly, you clear your throat in preparation for your first line: "Are you serious?" You internally wince as your voice comes out a tad dramatic, but you have to keep it mildly louder than usual to catch the boys' attention. 

Eliza's small stride allows you to be at her side a moment later. You check on your sons out of the corner of your eye and see them lounging on the two couches in the living room, faces blank and devoid of a care in the world as they watch the movie. 

"A boy pushed you down on the playground today?" you ask, turning your attention to Eliza at your side. 

"Mhmm," she hums, only the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

In your peripheral vision you see Ryan turn his head in your direction. His posture straightens a little, his attention securely locked in on your prank. 

"How old was he?" you ask Eliza.

"Eight."

"An eight-year-old pushed Eliza down on the playground?" Ryan shouts, practically launching himself out of his seat. 

"What?" Luke adds, voice booming as his brother's words pull him in. He jumps off the couch and both teenage boys cut off your and Eliza's path to the kitchen, forcing the two of you to come to a halt.

On one hand, this is the hardest it's been so far to keep yourself from breaking character. On the other hand, seeing the true concern and ire in the eyes of Eliza's big brothers is moving. The protectiveness they have for their little sister and the readiness to defend her at the drop of a hat is so touching that you fight tears from filling your eyes. 

"What happened?" Ryan demands.

"Were you with Grandpa? Did he see it?" Luke questions.

You expect Eliza to crack right there, let out a loud laugh, and tell her brothers that they should see the looks on their faces. Instead, she proves to be a master at improv as she replies. 

"It was behind the slide. He didn't see."

"Did you tell him?" Luke takes a step closer, practically towering over the three-year-old. 

"No."

"Why not?" Ryan is almost shouting at this point. 

"Who was it?" Luke asks, not allowing Eliza a moment to answer the older Munson brother's question. "Do you know him?"

"How would she know an eight-year-old?" Ryan asks, turning to look at the thirteen-year-old.

"I don't know. How did she know he was eight then?" Luke squabbles. 

As if knowing this is the moment that neither of you could keep the ruse up any longer, both you and Eliza break into a devious bout of giggles. 

The confused look on the boys' faces is enough to make you and Eliza laugh even harder.

"I don't think this is funny," Ryan says.

"But it's not true!" Eliza yells, jumping up and down in excitement.

"What?" The look on Luke's face is reminiscent of when he found out his favorite cereal brand had been discontinued. 

"We pranked you!" Eliza shoves her finger into their faces, an evil grin on her own. 

You can see the gears turning in both boys' heads as they take in her words and try to comprehend what is happening. 

"No one pushed me!"

Luke tilts his head to the side before running his hands over his face. "I'm so confused."

"This is Eliza's little payback for you two eating her macaroni and cheese," you explain, planting your hands on your hips. 

"You were in on this?!" Luke's shock causes his changing voice to crack. 

"Girls gotta stick together." You hold your hand out towards your daughter, and she jumps up and slaps a high five against it.

Ryan groans and drops his head back, glaring up at the ceiling.

"You guys suck," he complains. "I was really worried!"

"I have been betrayed." Luke mimes getting stabbed in the heart and crumbles down on the carpet. Eliza laughs and starts to crawl on top of him. Waiting for the right moment, Luke snatches his little sister to his chest and starts tickling her.

She squeals and starts squirming around in his grip.

"Nooooo! Ryan, help!"

The fifteen-year-old scoffs and folds his arms across his chest.

"No way, squirt. Not after that."

"Mama!" Eliza calls through her peals of laughter. "Help me!"

Before you can even take a step toward the two of them on the ground, Ryan comes forward and wraps his arms around you. It's an approximation of a hug, but it's really to keep you where you are; standing a couple of feet away with your arms locked against your sides.

"Ryan!" You laugh.

"What?" he asks, unable to keep from chuckling himself. "I'm just hugging you!"

"Lies!" Eliza yells.

"You're one to talk!" Ryan calls back. 

"Daddy!" It's Eliza's last attempt at help.

"He's not here to help you," Luke taunts, adding an evil laugh for emphasis. 

"Yes huh!" Eliza squeaks.

As calmly and casually as can be, Eddie strolls out from the hallway and eyes the four members of his family, slipping his hands into his pockets as he watches it all.

"What's up, sweet pea?" he asks. 

She shrieks as Luke tickles a particularly vulnerable spot. 

"Help!"

"Pick a side, Dad," Ryan says.

"Choose wisely!" Luke adds. 

"I'm his baby!" Eliza argues.

"But you guys said girls stick together and he's not a girl!" Luke reasons. "He should be on the guys' side!"

"Hmm." Eddie lazily tilts his head to the side, his fading brown curls falling against his shoulder. "You both make excellent points."

"What about me?" you ask, struggling in Ryan's hold. "I'm your wife!"

"But you've known us longer!" Ryan retorts. 

"I think I'll stay impartial." Eddie shrugs, keeping a bored expression on his face. "Maybe I'll go make some macaroni and cheese."

"The root of all evil," Luke laments with a sigh, ceasing his attack on Eliza. The little girl is quick to slip from his grasp, immediately running up to Ryan and attempting to shove him away from you.

"Get off Mama!"

"I'm just hugging her," Ryan says, planting his feet to resist her impressive strength. 

"Daddy, help!"

Eddie shrugs. "Sure." He takes a step forward and scoops Eliza up, tossing her over his shoulder as if she were a rag doll. 

"No!" 

Her legs flail but Eddie keeps a strong grip around her middle. Small hands pound against his back, but Eddie ignores all attempts at escape as he keeps walking into the kitchen. Tired from fighting off Luke a moment ago, Eliza lets her body go limp over her father's shoulders. She heaves a sigh filled with the exasperation of someone three times her age.

"Boys."

[not-magdi]

-it has always been you / lando Norris

Warnings: Alkohol, some weird dude

Words: 1.5k

Reading Time: 6min 25sec

A/N

Some cute friends to lovers trope cause I‘m bored :)

Hope you love it !

Y/N and Lando had been inseparable for years. Their friendship had started in the most unexpected way—a fateful encounter at a karting event when they were kids.

Y/N’s brother had been racing that day, and she had found herself sitting alone on a cold metal bench, watching the drivers zip around the track. Lando, always full of energy and curiosity, had plopped down beside her, still in his racing suit and smelling faintly of rubber and fuel.

“You look bored,” he had said with a cheeky grin.

“I’m not,” she had replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Yes, you are,” he had insisted, before launching into an animated explanation of how he was going to win the championship one day. That was the start of it all.

Over the years, they had become best friends, sharing everything from late-night texts about random thoughts to spontaneous road trips when life felt too heavy. Y/N was one of the few people who truly understood Lando’s hectic lifestyle, and in turn, Lando was her anchor in a world that sometimes felt overwhelming.

But while their friendship had always been easy and natural, Y/N had been harbouring feelings for Lando for quite some time. She’d never acted on them, fearing it would ruin the bond they had. And she was convinced Lando didn’t feel the same way. Why would he? He was charming, successful, and adored by fans worldwide.

-----

Tonight, their friends Max and Pietra had insisted on a night out. Y/N had initially resisted, claiming she was too tired, but Pietra wasn’t having it.

“Come on, Y/N,” Pietra had said, practically dragging her off the couch.

“You never go out anymore. You need this. Besides, we can all use a little fun.”

“Don’t worry,” Lando had chimed in with his usual playful smirk. “I’ll make sure you don’t embarrass yourself too much.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Y/N had shot back, rolling her eyes but secretly glad he was coming.

-----

The club was alive with energy, a pulsating mix of lights and music that seemed to electrify the room. Y/N followed Max, Pietra, and Lando through the crowd, her senses overwhelmed in the best possible way. The air was heavy with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and the faint metallic tang of sweat, but it was all part of the atmosphere.

Max was the first to hit the dance floor, his exuberance unmatched as he flailed his arms in exaggerated, dramatic moves. “This is my signature!” he shouted over the music, spinning in a circle.

Y/N burst into laughter, holding onto Pietra for balance as the latter tried to mimic his wild movements. “Max, you look ridiculous!” she called out, but her voice was nearly drowned out by the pounding bass.

“That’s the point!” he yelled back, sticking his tongue out before attempting a failed moonwalk.

Lando lingered close to Y/N, his usual cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Remind me to never let him dance at my wedding,” he joked, leaning in so she could hear him better.

“You say that like you’re not just as bad,” Y/N quipped, shooting him a playful glance.

“Excuse me,” Lando replied, feigning offence. “I have moved. You’re just not ready for them.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” she teased, her smile wide.

Lando nudged her shoulder with his, chuckling. “We’ll see about that.”

They found a spot near the edge of the dance floor, where Lando casually leaned against the wall, his eyes occasionally scanning the room. But his gaze always seemed to find its way back to Y/N. She was laughing more than usual, her face glowing in the neon light. He couldn’t help but admire how the stress of her week seemed to melt away.

“You having fun yet?” he asked, leaning down so his lips were close to her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Actually, yeah,” she admitted, her shoulders relaxing as the rhythm of the music washed over her.

Pietra returned moments later, handing Y/N a cocktail in a glass rimmed with sugar. “Here, try this. It’s amazing,” she said, her excitement evident.

Y/N took a tentative sip, her lips puckering slightly at the sweetness. “Wow, that’s good.”

“See? Told you!” Pietra beamed before disappearing back into the crowd with Max.

Y/N took another sip, then another. The drink was deceptively light, the alcohol masked by the sugary flavour. Before long, Pietra was back with another, and Y/N—caught up in the excitement—didn’t hesitate to take it.

By the time she was halfway through her third drink, the room felt warmer, the lights brighter, and her laughter came easier. Everything seemed a little funnier, a little lighter as if the weight she had been carrying all week had finally lifted.

“Easy there,” Lando said when she stumbled slightly, catching her by the arm before she could lose her balance. His grip was steady, grounding.

Y/N looked up at him, her giggles bubbling over. “What? I’m fine!” she insisted, though her unsteady footing said otherwise.

“You’re having a little too much fun,” he teased, his voice warm but laced with concern.

“Isn’t that the point of tonight?” she shot back, her words slurring slightly.

Lando chuckled, his hand lingering on her arm as he guided her back to a less crowded spot. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But maybe slow down a bit?”

“Party pooper,” she mumbled, sticking her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his grin. Y/N rarely let loose like this, and while he loved seeing her happy, a part of him couldn’t shake the need to keep her safe.

As they stood off to the side, Y/N’s attention was caught by a man weaving his way through the crowd toward her. She didn’t notice the way Lando’s posture tensed, his playful demeanour replaced by a quiet vigilance.

The man stopped in front of her, his height forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. “Hey there,” he said, flashing what he probably thought was a charming smile. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Y/N offered a polite smile, stepping back slightly. “Oh, I’m just here with friends.”

He didn’t take the hint. “Well, lucky for me I found you. Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, her voice tight. She glanced at Lando, who was already stepping closer.

The man leaned in, his tone dropping. “Aw, come on. Just one.”

Before Y/N could respond, Lando was at her side, his arm slipping around her waist with practised ease. The gesture was protective but natural as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Everything okay?”

Y/N looked up at him, her relief palpable. “Yeah,” she murmured, leaning into his side.

The man’s expression shifted, annoyance flickering across his face. “Didn’t realize she was taken,” he muttered, backing off with a forced smile.

“Yeah, she is,” Lando said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the man disappeared into the crowd, Y/N exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at Lando with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his hand lingering on her waist for a moment longer before letting go. “Let’s get some air.”

-----

Outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the club. Y/N shivered slightly, and without a word, Lando shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders.

“Lando, you’ll freeze,” she protested, though she made no move to take it off.

“I’ll survive,” he said with a small smile. “Besides, you need it more than I do.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city filling the air. Y/N clutched his jacket, her mind replaying the scene from the club.

“When you said you were my boyfriend…” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It… it made me feel something. Something good.”

Lando turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing. “I know you were just pretending, but… I’ve thought about it before. You and me.”

He stepped closer, his heart pounding. “You have?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “For a while now. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

Lando reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. “Y/N,” he said softly. “I’ve liked you for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the world around them fading away. Then, slowly, Lando leaned in, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She didn’t. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss that deepened as their feelings finally found an outlet.

When they pulled apart, Y/N smiled, her forehead resting against his. “So… not just pretending, then?”

“Not even a little bit,” he replied, his voice warm and full of affection.

As they walked back into the club, hand in hand, Max and Pietra spotted them immediately.

“About time,” Max said with a grin, clinking his glass against Pietra’s.

Y/N and Lando laughed, but neither let go of the other’s hand for the rest of the night.

——-

Don’t forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !🩷

[newtonsheffield]

So do Kate and Anthony end up dating in the funeral au? Does Kate help him work through his grief

Imagine Kate who still can’t stop thinking about the cute guy who looked like he would burst into tears at any moment. She gets a lump in her throat just thinking about the way his grief was so clearly eating at him. She remembers the look from when Mary lost her Mum last year. She remembers the way she’d hear her mother crying, locked away in a room and Kate would slip inside and sit by the bed until her Dad got home from work. It’s not the same kind of grief but she recognizes it.

She thought about him all day yesterday. And here she is today, still thinking about him when her coworker clears her throat.

“There’s a guy looking for you.”

Kate stopped, “Is it my Dad?”

“I don’t think so.” She clicked her tongue. “Not unless your Dad is young and really fucking cute.”

She never expected to see Anthony again but there he is, with a crease between his eyebrows and his hands shoved in the pockets of his navy peacoat, raindrops in his hair.

“Hi, Anthony.”

He swallows thickly before he speaks. “Thank you for the flowers. That was very- That was kind.”

“It was the least I could do.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

“Did you need something else? Can I help you with-?”

“I can’t date right now.”

She’s a little stunned, but she’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t skip a little. “Okay?”

“I like you.” He said quietly. “You’re very beautiful and I like you and you made me almost fucking smile on one of the worst days of my life but I can’t-. My Mum is a mess, I have brothers and sisters who need me and I’m… well, I wouldn’t be good for anyone right now.”

Kate nodded, “I get that.”

He swallowed again. “I can’t date you.”

She nodded slowly again, “can I buy you coffee on my lunch break? At one? There’s a shop down the street. It doesn’t have to be a date. You can sit across from me if you like and just not be alone.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “I’d like that.”

“I’ll see you at one then.”

It’s months later, when Anthony turns to her one day with his brow furrowed while they’re sat in that very coffee shop and leans in to kiss her.

“I still probably shouldn’t date you.”

“Do it anyway though.”

[sweetmisery]

first kiss with piwon | maknae line

pairing: intak | soul | jongseob x female!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: pt 2 of sharing your first kiss with piwon, hope you like it :)

part 1 - hyung line

INTAK - Nervous Hearts

The cozy hum of the restaurant surrounded you, warm candlelight flickering between you and Intak as you sat at your table. The soft clink of silverware and low chatter of other diners created a soothing atmosphere, but you couldn’t help noticing how nervous Intak seemed.

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his napkin, his gaze darting between you and the menu as if he were afraid to mess up even the simplest decision. You tried to keep the mood light, but a part of you wondered why he was so tense.

Then again, maybe you already knew.

Earlier in the week, Theo had let slip the reason for Intak’s nervousness.

“So,” Theo started, resting his arms on the guitar he was lazily strumming minutes before as he leaned back in his chair. “Intak likes you.”

Your heart skipped. The words hit you like a soft blow, and for a second, you weren‘t sure if you heard him right. “Wait- what?” you blurted, sitting up straighter.

Theo laughed, shaking his head. “You heard me.”

The disbelief bubbled up, and yet… it didn‘t. Not completely. You blinked at him, trying to piece together your thoughts, but all you can picture is Intak - confident, easygoing Intak - stumbling over his words the last time he talked to you. The way he avoided your eyes and suddenly seemed more interested in his shoelaces. The way his smile lingered just a little too long before he quickly looked away, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“You’re serious?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Dead serious.” Theo grinned, setting the guitar aside. “He told me himself.”

The admission sent another jolt through you. Intak told Theo? Theo, your protective, overbearing older brother? The idea was almost laughable.

“And?” you pressed, your curiosity outweighing your shock. “What did you say?”

Theo leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he gave you a pointed look. “I gave him the big-brother talk, of course.”

Your brows furrowed. “The big-brother talk?”

“You know, the ’don‘t hurt her or else‘ talk.” He shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Told him I’ll break his nose if he hurts you, that kind of thing. He looked like he was about to faint, though. Honestly, I think the guy’s more scared of disappointing you than me.”

You had just stared at him, completely floored. "You're unbelievable," you had muttered, pressing your palm to your forehead.

You were still processing the sheer absurdity of Theo having this conversation with Intak - your Intak, the one who practically radiated self-assurance on stage but turned into a completely different person around you.

Theo picked up his guitar again, strumming a lazy tune like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he said casually.

“For what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For giving him the green light,” he said with a smirk. “Otherwise, he probably would’ve just kept staring at you from across the room like a weirdo.”

You groaned, throwing a pillow at him as he laughed. But beneath the teasing and the embarrassment, there was that same warm feeling growing inside you.

Intak liked you.

Theo’s expression softened, though there was still a mock sternness in voice. “But just so you know, I’m watching him. And you, too.”

Back in the present, you glanced at Intak as he nervously adjusted his silverware, his expression so earnest that you felt your heart soften even more.

“You okay?” you asked gently.

“Y-Yeah,” he said quickly, though his fingers fumbled as he reached for his glass. “I’m fine. Totally fine.”

But as soon as the words left his mouth, his hand slipped, and the glass tipped over. The dark liquid spilled across the table, pooling near your plate and dripping onto your dress.

Intak froze, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh no! I-I’m so sorry!” He frantically reached for napkins, but they scattered from his hands onto the floor.

You couldn’t help it - you laughed. The situation, his reaction, all of it was too endearing.

“Hey, it’s fine,” you said, holding up a hand to stop him before he knocked anything else over. “It’s just a little spill. Don’t worry about it.”

“But your dress-”

“I promise, it’s okay,” you said, smiling to reassure him. “Really.”

He slumped back in his chair, his face burning with embarrassment. “I… I don’t know why I’m so clumsy tonight.”

You tilted your head playfully. “I have a theory.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“You’re probably scared of Theo.”

His startled laugh broke through his nervous energy, and he finally met your gaze, his expression softening. “You’re not wrong about that.”

You grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from him.”

The playful comment seemed to relax him a little, and as the evening went on, the tension between you eased. But his clumsiness wasn’t finished yet.

The cool evening breeze brushing your face softly as you and Intak strolled down the path of the park. Dinner had been a mixture of laughter and clumsiness, but neither of you seemed to mind.

Intak walked a step behind you, his hands tucked nervously into his pockets. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but you could sense his lingering embarrassment from earlier.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you teased, turning to look at him.

“I just…” He trailed off, looking up at the stars before glancing back at you. “I’m still kind of kicking myself about dinner. I spilled my drink, dropped the napkins… I must’ve looked so ridiculous.”

You stopped walking, stepping in front of him to block his path. “You know what I think?”

His eyes widened slightly as he tilted his head. “What?”

“I think your clumsiness made tonight even better.”

His cheeks turned pink, and he scratched the back of his neck. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m serious,” you said with a soft laugh, nudging his arm. “It’s cute when you’re nervous. You’re adorable, Intak.”

The words seemed to catch him off guard. He ducked his head, a shy smile spreading across his face.

You continued walking, spotting an empty bench under a nearby tree. “Let’s sit for a bit,” you suggested, gesturing toward it.

Intak followed and sat down beside you, though as he did, he misjudged the edge of the bench and nearly fell off. You burst into laughter as he quickly steadied himself, his face turning a deep shade of red.

“I swear I don’t normally do this,” he muttered, groaning.

“Sure, sure,” you teased, still laughing. “You’re just keeping me entertained, right?”

“Something like that,” he mumbled, slouching slightly. Then, his voice grew quieter. “I just… I don’t know why I’m like this tonight.”

You turned to look at him, tilting your head. “You don’t?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Okay, maybe I do. It’s because… I like you. A lot. And I wanted tonight to be perfect, but instead, I’ve been a walking disaster.”

His honesty made your chest feel warm, and a smile tugged at your lips. “Intak…”

Before he could finish his flustered apology, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His breath hitched in surprise, and when you pulled back, his wide-eyed expression made you giggle.

He raised a hand to touch his lips, his cheeks glowing red. “Wha… Did you just-”

“Yes, I did,” you said, cutting him off with a grin. “And for the record, tonight was perfect. Exactly because you were you.”

His lips twitched into a sheepish smile, and his gaze softened. “You really mean that?”

“Of course,” you said. “But just to make sure you believe me…” You leaned in again, this time kissing him a little longer.

When you pulled away, Intak looked completely dazed, his face lit up with an awkward yet happy smile. “You’re amazing,” he said quietly.

You laughed softly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “And you’re adorable. So, stop worrying so much.”

For the first time that evening, Intak relaxed completely. The two of you sat there on the bench, your head resting on his shoulder and your fingers brushing lightly as the night carried on around you.

SOUL - One Step Closer

The clock on your desk blinked 11:47 PM, its numbers glowing faintly in the dimly lit office. Most of the staff had left hours ago, the once-bustling corridors of the label now eerily silent. You rubbed your tired eyes, a small pile of notes and schedules still waiting for your attention. You’d been organizing P1Harmony’s upcoming schedules for weeks, ensuring every detail was perfect. They worked so hard; the least you could do was support them.

As you tidied up your papers, a sudden thought made your stomach sink. My purse. You’d left it in the practice room earlier when you were running errands. Letting out a small groan, you grabbed your jacket and headed for the elevators. The practice room was on the third floor, and with every step closer, you braced yourself for the faint hope it wouldn’t still be locked.

When you arrived, however, the sound of muffled music greeted you through the door. It wasn’t just anyone practicing - this was P1Harmony’s practice room.

Curious, you opened the door cautiously and peeked inside. There he was: Soul.

Dressed in casual sweats and a tank top, his hair slightly damp from sweat, he moved to the beat with precision, repeating the same step over and over. You leaned against the doorframe, watching his determination. His members always joked that he was an “alien,” someone who could be weird and out of this world, but to you, his quirks were nothing short of adorable.

You cleared your throat gently, and Soul spun around, startled. His expression softened when he saw it was you. “Oh, it’s just you,” he said, breathing hard. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, stepping inside. “It’s so late. Why aren’t you resting?”

He smiled faintly, brushing back a strand of hair from his forehead. “I needed more practice. There are still parts I keep messing up.”

“Messing up?” you echoed, incredulous. “Soul, you were incredible today. Everyone thought so.”

But his smile faltered. He dropped his gaze to the floor, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I’m nervous about the comeback,” he admitted softly. “I don’t want to mess up and disappoint the fans. They expect so much from us, and I… I don’t know if I’m good enough.”

Hearing his doubt struck a chord in you. You’d never seen him so vulnerable before. “Soul,” you said firmly, walking closer. “You’re amazing. You’re one of the most talented dancers I’ve ever seen. Your fans love you, they adore everything about you. There’s no way you could ever disappoint them.”

His eyes met yours, searching, as if trying to find truth in your words. Finally, he sighed and gave a small nod. “Thanks,” he murmured. “I needed to hear that.”

A silence settled between you, comfortable yet charged. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “Do you want to learn the dance?”

“What?” you laughed, taken aback. “Soul, you know I can’t dance.”

He grinned, his usual playful side returning. “Everyone can dance if they want to. Come on, I’ll teach you.” Before you could protest, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the center of the room.

For the next few minutes, you stumbled through the choreography, laughing at yourself while Soul patiently guided you through each move. He showed you the steps slowly, his hand resting lightly on your waist as he adjusted your posture or corrected your footing. His touch was warm, grounding, but it also sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

You felt at ease with him, even when you messed up. His laughter filled the room, infectious and pure, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. For a brief moment, it felt like there was no one else in the world but the two of you.

Then it happened. You slipped on the polished floor, your footing giving way. Before you could hit the ground, Soul caught you.

His arm wrapped securely around your waist, his other hand steadying your shoulder. You were so close, his face mere inches from yours. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in surprise. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, your breath caught somewhere in your chest. The world seemed to slow down as you locked eyes with him. Time hung suspended, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

“Soul,” you murmured, interrupting whatever he was about to say. You leaned in and pressed your lips softly to his.

Soul froze.

The kiss was soft, fleeting, but it carried so much that you’d been holding back for what felt like forever. Your heart raced as you leaned back slightly to gauge his reaction. His eyes were wide, his lips still parted in surprise.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, suddenly unsure. “I didn’t mean to-”

He blinked, snapping out of his trance. “No,” he interrupted quickly, his voice soft. “Don’t be sorry.”

The corner of his lips quirked upward, a small, shy smile spreading across his face. The warmth in his eyes made your chest tighten, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t plan for you to find out like this,” you admitted, your cheeks burning. “I just… I couldn’t help myself.”

Soul’s smile grew a little wider as he let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess we’re both full of surprises tonight.”

You chuckled nervously, but before you could say anything else, Soul spoke again. “You know,” he said, glancing down, “sometimes I feel like I’m not… normal. Like, maybe I don’t fit in with everyone else. The guys always joke that I’m weird, and I laugh it off, but…” He paused, his voice trailing off.

Your heart ached at his words. “Soul,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “That’s what makes you you. The way you think, the way you are - it’s what makes you special. I’ve always loved that about you.”

The word “loved” hung in the air between you, but you didn’t take it back. You wanted him to know.

Soul’s gaze lifted to meet yours again, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made you hold your breath. “You really mean that?” he asked softly.

“Of course,” you replied. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. The small gesture sent a wave of warmth through you. Then, after a moment, he tilted his head slightly. “So… does this mean I get to teach you the rest of the dance now?”

You burst out laughing, the tension in the room breaking. “Soul!”

“What?” he said, grinning. “I mean, you’ve got potential. I think we could make a good team.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he countered, his grin widening. “But seriously…” He hesitated, then stepped a little closer, his expression softening. “Thank you. For everything you said earlier - and for this.”

Before you could reply, he leaned in and kissed you. This time, the kiss lingered, unhurried and full of unspoken feelings. When he pulled back, his face was tinged with the faintest blush.

“You’re amazing,” he said simply, his voice steady but quiet.

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a smile tugging at your lips. “So are you,” you whispered.

He exhaled deeply, glancing toward the clock on the far wall. “It’s late. We should probably call it a night.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, though part of you didn’t want to leave this moment behind.

As you both made your way toward the door, you paused and turned back to him. “Wait,” you said, and he raised a curious eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“There’s one more thing I need to do before we leave,” you said, stepping closer.

Soul tilted his head, clearly puzzled. “What?”

You leaned in and kissed him again. This time, his lips curved into a smile against yours, and when you pulled back, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Okay,” he said, laughing softly. “Now we can leave.”

The two of you walked out of the practice room together, the quiet hallways of the label feeling a little less empty as your footsteps echoed side by side.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, you were content.

JONGSEOB - Unexpectedly Us

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, its golden rays seeping through the narrow windows of the studio as you stepped into the familiar building. Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you glanced at the message again. It was from Jongseob: “Can you come to the studio? I need help with something.”

Your heartbeat quickened, though you weren’t sure why. You had been by his side for years now: his best friend, his constant cheerleader, the one who always answered his calls. But there was something about him asking for your help in moments like this that made you feel… special. Maybe it was because you’d seen his journey from the very start, since the first time he nervously auditioned as a trainee, barely daring to dream of becoming an idol.

When you reached the door to the recording studio, you heard muffled sounds coming from inside. Pushing it open, you saw him immediately. There he was, standing in the booth, long hair tied into a half ponytail, strands falling loosely against his sharp features. He looked frustrated, pacing back and forth, muttering words under his breath as if rehearsing something he just couldn’t get right.

You’d never seen him like this before - so wound up and on edge. Usually, Jongseob radiated a quiet confidence, the kind that came naturally with his undeniable talent. You leaned against the mixing console, watching him for a moment, hesitating to interrupt his thoughts.

Finally, you pressed the button for the booth speaker and said teasingly, “You needed my help?”

The sound of your voice startled him. He jumped slightly and turned toward you, wide-eyed.

“Yah!” he exclaimed, clutching his chest dramatically. “You scared me!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and as your laughter filled the room, his lips curved into a smile. Small at first, but then growing wider, accompanied by that high-pitched giggle you’d always loved.

He stepped closer to the booth window, his hands resting against the glass. “I need help with this rap,” he admitted, his tone softening. “I just… I can’t get it right.”

You nodded and took a seat on the other side of the console. “Alright. Show me what you’ve got so far.”

As he returned to the microphone, you settled in, resting your chin on your hand. Watching him like this, immersed in his work, focused, and pouring his emotions into every line, made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t fully understand. His voice was like a rhythm that only he could master, each word laced with a passion that had always made your heart flutter.

But today, that fluttering feeling was almost overwhelming. You shook your head, trying to focus on helping him, not on the way his jaw tensed when he concentrated, or how his hair fell into his eyes when he tilted his head.

When he finally finished recording the verse, he stepped out of the booth, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His long hair was slightly disheveled, and his cheeks were faintly pink from exertion.

“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You broke into applause, grinning. “That was amazing. Honestly, I don’t know why you even needed my help.”

He giggled again,higher this time, a little shy, and your heart clenched. You wanted to freeze this moment, to hold onto the sound of his laugh forever.

“I mean it,” you continued, standing up. “Why do you always call me when you need help? You could ask one of the producers, or someone with more experience-”

“Because…” he interrupted, looking down at his hands. His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Because I feel like whenever you’re around, I’m at ease. The words… they just come naturally when you’re here.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his confession sinking in.

“Jongseob…” you murmured, unsure of what to say. But before you could gather your thoughts, he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone firmer this time. “It’s not just today. It’s always been like this. Whenever you’re around, I feel different. And lately…” He trailed off, playing with his fingers nervously. “Lately, it’s been getting stronger.”

“What are you saying?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. “I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling yet, but… I know I don’t want to hide it anymore. Not from you.”

Your heart raced, the weight of his words leaving you breathless. You took a step closer to him, his familiar scent enveloping you. “Jongseob…”

He held up a hand, his cheeks flushed. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I know this is-”

“Wait,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “You’re not the only one who feels this way.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

You smiled, your chest tightening with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. “Yeah. I do.”

He let out a high-pitched giggle, the sound filling the small studio. You couldn’t stop yourself. You took another step toward him, cupping his face gently in your hands. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and his cheeks burned red.

“That laugh,” you said softly, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “That’s exactly why I fell for you.”

His lips parted as if to respond, but before he could, you leaned in, your heart pounding. Your lips brushed his, a tentative, fleeting touch, and the world seemed to pause.

For a second, neither of you moved. The soft press of your lips against his felt both surreal and electric, like a line you’d both been toeing for years had suddenly disappeared. But when you pulled back slightly, just enough to see his expression, you were met with a sight you’d never forget.

Jongseob’s eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly in shock, and his cheeks burned an even deeper shade of red. His long lashes fluttered as he blinked at you, clearly at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue?” you teased, your voice light, though your heart was racing.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, his brows furrowing as he tried to process what had just happened. You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, it wasn’t often you saw Jongseob so completely flustered.

“Yah,” he finally muttered, his voice low and shaky. He glanced down, avoiding your eyes, but the redness in his cheeks betrayed him. “What was that?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm, I think they call that a kiss.”

He groaned, dragging a hand through his hair as if trying to hide his face. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

You grinned, stepping closer to him again. “Oh, come on, you’re the one who basically confessed first. What, you didn’t expect me to do something about it?”

“I didn’t expect you to-” He cut himself off, turning his back to you as if to regain his composure. “I was trying to be serious…”

“And I was serious too,” you interrupted, your tone softening. “I meant it when I said I felt the same way.”

He turned to face you again, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the teasing stopped. The air between you grew heavy with unspoken feelings, and you could see the vulnerability in his gaze.

“Really?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not just… saying that to mess with me?”

You sighed, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him. “Jongseob, do I look like I’m joking?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No,” he murmured.

“Good,” you said with a small smile. Then, unable to resist the chance to tease him again, you added, “But seriously, you should’ve seen your face just now. You looked like a deer in headlights.”

His mouth fell open, and you could see the mixture of embarrassment and indignation flash across his features. “Yah! Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” you asked innocently, biting back a laugh.

“Make fun of me!” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is already hard enough, and you’re just- ugh.” He let out a frustrated groan, but you could see the faint smile tugging at his lips despite his protests.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not sounding sorry at all. “But you make it so easy. You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Stop,” he whined, hiding his face in his hands.

Your laughter filled the studio again, and when he peeked at you through his fingers, his pout made your chest ache in the best way. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” you said, raising your hands in surrender. “But seriously, you’re not mad, right?”

He dropped his hands and gave you a long look. “Mad?” He paused, then shook his head, his expression softening. “No. I don’t think I could ever be mad at you.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension between you shifted, turning quieter, sweeter.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. “You know I really do love your giggle, right? It’s kind of my favorite thing about you.”

“Why do you keep bringing that up?” he mumbled, his ears turning red. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” you insisted. “It’s adorable. Just like you.”

His eyes widened, and you could see his ears turning an even deeper shade of red. “You’re seriously going to kill me,” he muttered, looking away.

You smiled and reached out, taking his hand in yours. “I mean it, Jongseob. You’re amazing - onstage, in the studio, and… just as you are. You don’t have to figure everything out right now. I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing against yours, and when he glanced back up at you, his expression was softer, calmer.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “For being here. For… everything.”

“Always,” you replied, squeezing his hand gently.

For a moment, it felt like the world outside the studio didn’t exist - just you, him, and the quiet hum of the equipment around you.

And then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you added with a playful grin, “But seriously, next time you call me for ‘help,’ at least give me a warning before you make me fall for you all over again.”

He laughed - soft at first, then louder, that high-pitched giggle you loved spilling out of him. “You’re so annoying,” he said, shaking his head.

“And yet, here you are, holding my hand,” you shot back.

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

© sweetmisery - please do not repost my works! ♡

[novashelby]

"His Desk Pet"- Tommy Shelby x Reader

Pairing: Tommy Shelby Warnings: Sub!reader, Dom!Tommy, cock warming, degrading language, humiliation, voyeurism, exhibition, choking, rough. Slight dubcon. Word Count: 1.2k Summary: Tommy wants his little pet to sit under his desk, be quiet, and warm his aching cock. The catch? His brothers are sitting just across from him.

War does things to people, and for Tommy Shelby, it was the blanket feeling of not giving a fuck. ‘Not giving a fuck’ was, of course, subjective. Though, it made his company quite uncomfortable. Tucked away, under his desk like the good pet he told her that she was, he undid his trousers. There was a hidden attempt at being discreet. While she was under there, his two brothers sat across from him; playing the role of oblivious. Of course, neither of them were. Arthur had caught the shadow of her foot through the space between the desk and the floor. John? He eyed Tommy as his hands fumbled with the belt. But remember, Tommy does not give a fuck. 

John offered him an amused look, motioning to the desk. “Really? Are we a bloody audience to your fookin’ circus?” Arthur on the other hand leaned back, nursing his whiskey. He eyed his slightly younger, but more demanding younger brother with equal disgust and curiosity.

Tommy one handedly flipped through the accounts booklet that was scribbled with numbers and names. Drying he said, “I don’t know what you are talking about, John.” Meanwhile, just under that desk, she rested a bit hunched on her knees. He had one rule, one request; cockwarm him. Don’t move your mouth was what he had said to her. No licking, sucking, bobbing your head. Just warm me with that pretty mouth, Eh? With his left hand, he stroked himself hard, rubbing the precum at the top. She watched as he pushed his fingers at her. Without being told, she took his fingers in and cleaned them, devouring his taste. She had to hold back a little whine as he pulled them from her mouth and hit the back on her head to silently tell her to take him. “Now, boys-”

“You can’t be fookin’ serious,” John laughed with a wheeze. “What is she doing? Sucking your langer under the fucking desk?” He turned to Arthur, hitting his chest. “Are we seriously going to talk fixed boxing matches with-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, John,” Tommy repeated, his eyes looking down at her, unimpressed. Her lips rested comfortably half way; his cock filling just before her gag reflex. Even so, her jaw felt sore. Little bubbles of drool decorated the corners of her lips. With a heavy hand on the back of her head, he pushed her down. Just with a look, he reminded her that you need to warm the whole cock, not only what you can take. 

Arthur rubbed his temple. “A maid?”

Tommy let out a sigh as she took him down completely, her mouth warm and comforting around him. She on the other hand fought against the gags and chokes, drool streaming down her chin. But she was to just keep herself like that. It felt so…degrading? But the tingle between her legs told her that she liked it. Very much, actually. The fact that they knew she was under there, being obedient and good, but also very much a fucking slut. Or how he so casually ignored their curiosities. She fought through the pain radiating around her lips, jaw, and throat for her own sick, twisted pleasure for being humiliated. “Friday night, we will have to-”

“Is it Lizzie?” John asked.

“A whore?”

“That horse lady that you were fucking when-”

Tommy snorted. “Listen, she likes to be ignored. In fact, the more you ignore her, the faster I get off on the whole ordeal.” Arthur and John uncomfortably shifted in their seats and motioned for him to continue. Tommy droned on. But her, the toy under the desk, drowned them out with the sounds of her own spit gurgling. She did her best not lick or suck, or come across as bratty. Drool streamed from her lips, pooling around the floor and on his boots. Her once crisp, neat white blouse was stained with wet marks, clinging to her skin. Tommy eyed her, grinning as her nostrils flared, trying to keep up with breathing. Her whole face was red and flushed. As the gentleman he was, his hand kindly stroked her warm cheek. 

Arthur was starting to become intrigued. “So, lemme ask one question.”

Tommy, lost in her eyes, smiled at her before touching the other cheek. “Good girl,” he mouthed before responding to his brother. “I prefer if you didn’t-”

“But I am,” Arthur cut him off, scratching at his ear. “Is she some type of…ah…um, what do they call it, Johnny boy?” John shrugged, laughing how if anyone was going to know, it’d be him. “A fetish thing…a pet-”

“A pet?” Tommy scoffed, amused, looking at him before at her. Her eyes never left him; big, round, and beautiful. So innocent and telling, yet he knew her too well. “Are you a pet?” he asked, laughing a little. “Hm?” He spoke to her as if she had limited brain cells. She sank a bit, moaning against him. “No, I don’t think you're a pet.” That is when his fingers squeezed her nose and she flipped out, hands slapping against his legs. The overwhelming feeling of not being able to breathe made her gain a sense of severity. Trapped and stuck with another holding her life in his hands. For what was only a few seconds felt like minutes. When he let go of her nose, she fought to suck in all of the air in the room. Tommy laughed, rubbing her cheek again. “No, Arthur, I care about my pets-”

“Tommy!” John choked. “Fookin’ ‘ell,” he sighed, scratching his nose. Arthur had to look away for a second, trying to compose his thoughts. He started to believe he didn’t have any; lost and shocked.

“Get off,” Tommy told her and she was thankful to finally relax her face. It was red, puffy, and messy, and her lips were swollen and pathetic. He swiped at her wet eyes that watered from the pain before he ‘kindly’ massaged her jaw. “Good girl…stand up, come on.” She crawled from under the desk and stood up. John and Arthur immediately looked at her before each other. Tommy pulled her in, enjoying the mess she made of herself. “You’re all messy,” he cooed, wiping her face with his handkerchief. “Come here, hm?” She got closer as he tended to her, rubbing her back. He tossed the cloth to the table before looking at his brothers. She felt a bit embarrassed, turning her head. Without saying anything, he pinched her chin to look forward. “Now, which one are you going to suck off first, eh?” She choked out, turning to him, unsure of what he was asking. He matched her frown with a smirk. “Choose wisely, one is an animal and the other likes to slap his whores around.”

Arthur coughed, nearly dropping his whiskey. “The fuck you’re gonna ask us that!” John blushed a bit in the cheeks, averting his eyes with a grin. 

“Tommy, no…not after she just had you balls deep down her throat-”

Tommy leaned back, taking a smoke from his back and throwing it. His eyes scanned over her before saying. She felt like an animal in a cage at the zoo, everyone studying her. “She’s got two other holes, John. She has no objection to being used in any way needed of her. Isn’t that right?” He looked up at her.

Swallowing, she replied in a hoarse, unsure voice, “yes, sir.”

That made Tommy pleased. “Good girl. Now choose.”

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 25 - 'For You' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.9 k

Layla had left, and with her went the familiar comfort she always brought. You felt a sudden pang of loneliness settle in your chest, even though you weren’t alone. Most of the boys were still there, a few lingering outside, their chatter and laughter filling the air. You leaned up against a chair, watching the group. Your eyes drifted to Jack, and your mind began to race. Layla had planted a seed—how was tonight going to go? Was this your moment to act natural with Trent in front of Jack? Or was there some unspoken rule you hadn’t caught onto yet? It felt strange, like you were walking a tightrope. You didn’t know the plan—didn’t even know if there was a plan. But you felt uneasy, caught between the newness of this dynamic and the familiarity of the people around you. Slowly, you made your way over to Trent. You slipped your hands around his strong bicep, seeking reassurance more than anything else. He looked down at you, and the warm smile that spread across his face made your chest feel lighter, if only for a moment.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. The gesture was natural, instinctive, but it sent a ripple of awareness through you. You wondered what their friend he was talking to thought. You were caught in your own head, drowning in overthinking.  "Everything alright?" Trent's voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him looking at you earnestly, his expression soft, his eyes full of concern as he took you in. You smiled, nodding.

"Yeah, just said bye to Layla." You explained masking. He pulled you in a little closer, his hand moving to the small of your back. The boys decided to head inside, and Trent took a step to follow them, his hand staying in its place on your lower back. It was a subtle motion, one that spoke volumes about the way he claimed you, even in the smallest of ways. He guided you gently, expecting you to follow. But to Trent’s surprise, you didn’t. You grabbed his hand, halting his movement. He turned back to you, his brows furrowing slightly in question. 

“What’s up, baby?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear, mildly confused why you stopped. You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced at Jack across the patio. He was laughing at something Noah said as they walked inside, oblivious to the storm brewing in your mind.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted quietly, your eyes searching Trent’s for guidance. Trent’s expression softened immediately. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before cupping your cheek gently. 

“You don’t have to do anything, yeah? Just stay with me. That’s all.” He smirked. And you wanted to but you were anxious. 

“But Jack…” you trailed off, glancing over at your brother again.

“Jack knows now, baby,” Trent said simply, his tone steady. “It’s okay. He might not love it, but he’s okay with it. I promise. He’s just… adjusting, that’s all. It'll take time.” He explained gently. You nodded, though the knot in your stomach didn’t completely ease.

“It just feels… weird. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.” You admitted. Trent leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. 

“You’re not. And if he’s got a problem, he’ll tell me, not you. Alright?” He whispered. You nodded again, exhaling softly as his words began to settle. “C’mon,” Trent said with a small smile, squeezing your hand still entwined with his. “Let’s go inside. I’ll stay close, yeah?” He attempted to step forward again. You appreciated it, but you just wanted another minute alone with him… actually a few more moments sounded a lot better than one and then as you looked at Trent, his tanned skin glowing under the moonlight in only his swimshorts, an idea popped into your head.  

"T..." you cooed softly, your voice dripping with mischief. Your wide, doe-like eyes tried to feign innocence, but the playful smirk on your lips gave you away instantly. Trent looked down at you, his brow raising slightly as his own lips twitched into a knowing grin. 

"I know that look. What do you need, pretty girl?" he teased, stepping closer until there was no space left between you. His hand found its favorite place of the evening, resting possessively on your ass.

"Do you wanna go swimming with me?" you asked, your voice light and sweet. Trent's smile widened into something blinding, his lips curling up, his eyes squinting as his teeth peeked through. It was a signature Trent full smile-the kind that made your heart flutter every time.

"Yeah," he said without hesitation, his hand giving your ass a squeeze. "I'll do anything with you. C'mon." The night had cooled, the garden lights casting a soft glow over the patio and illuminating the still surface of the pool. You stepped in first, the water biting against your warm skin. You shivered but took another step before diving in fully. Trent followed cautiously, dipping one foot in and immediately tensing.

 "Oh my days, baby. Nah, it's too cold, you know," he said, his voice half-laughing as he stopped dead on the first step.

"C'mon, baby! What happened to anything?" you teased, your voice carrying across the water. You floated toward him, the lights reflecting off your wet skin, making it glisten. Trent looked at you, his cheeks dimpling as his smile turned cheeky. 

"Baby... it's cold as shit," he quipped, his eyes flicking down briefly before meeting yours again. He hadn't moved, and at first, you thought he was just being a wuss. But then his gaze dipped again back down to his shorts, a silent explanation, and then it clicked. Your own cheeks flushed slightly, a soft laugh escaping you. 

"Oh..." you murmured, realization dawning. You waded over to the edge of the pool and climbed out, water cascading off your body in shimmering rivulets. Trent's breath hitched slightly, and he reached out instinctively, his big hands finding your waist.

"Cold water and I’ve got you looking like this? Nah, not fair at all," he muttered under his breath, his fingers trailing over your wet skin. He hummed softly, a sound that vibrated between you, his hands warming your chilled body.

"I would've kept you warm. You should've followed me in," you teased, leaning closer.

"Trust me, I had planned to," he murmured, his eyes tracing the droplets of water running down your collarbone. "But this bikini..." He shook his head in disbelief at the way you looked, his hands sliding down to your hips. "It's too much for me and you’re asking me to get in there?" He looked at you pleadingly. You smirked, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Driving me mad tonight, you know?" Trent let out a dramatic sigh, glancing at the pool and then back at you. 

"Always," you replied, stepping back toward the water with a giggle in an attempt to lure him in this time. He watched you with another shake of his head, his resolve crumbling but he pulled your arm back towards him. Trent smirked, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint as he nodded toward the hot tub, still covered and untouched at the corner of the garden.

"At least give me a fair playing field here, baby," he teasingly pleaded, his lips curling into that devastatingly smug smile that always made your knees weak. You followed his gaze to the hot tub and then back at him, tilting your head. 

"I don't even know how to turn it on... or take that cover off," you admitted with a small pout. It was true-Jack or one of the boys always dealt with it. The mechanics of the thing were completely foreign to you.

"Baby, baby, baby," Trent drawled, his voice dripping with affection as he walked toward the control unit by the edge of the pool. "You act like I haven't been here a hundred times before. C'mon now." You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued but unsure of what he was planning. "Do me a favor and unzip that f'me," he added, nodding toward the zipper of the hot tub cover with a cheeky grin. Your lips parted in mock disbelief at the audacity of his request to ask you to do anything, asking you to put in work, but the look on his face was too irresistible. You rolled your eyes playfully before crouching down by the hot tub, reaching for the zipper. Trent's attention flicked back to you, and he couldn't help but smirk as he caught sight of you squatting there, focused on the task. As you slowly unzipped the cover, Trent turned toward the control unit, flicking a few switches like it was second nature. Over his shoulder, he shot you another cheeky smile. "C'mon, now, lift it up," he called out instructions, laughing softly. You grabbed the edge of the cover with one hand, careful not to damage your nails, and gave it a tug. To your surprise, the weight of it didn't budge, and the resistance yanked you forward slightly, forcing a soft gasp from your lips. You stumbled, catching yourself before you fell completely. Your eyes darted up to Trent, who had turned just in time to see your struggle. His laugh was immediate, low and rich.

"It's heavy, T," you whined, your bottom lip rolling out in a pout as you stepped back from the cover. You weren't even trying to hide the puppy-dog stare you were giving him, the kind you'd mastered over the years. Trent's brow lifted, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. This wasn't new. He knew this game-he'd seen it time and time again, in fact he’d played it time and time again. You could easily lift the cover if you wanted to. You worked out, you were strong enough, but one half-hearted attempt followed by that look always had him crumbling.

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Heavy," he muttered a tease with a dramatic eye roll, his smirk never faltering. "So too heavy for my pretty girl?" he teased, crouching down next to you and brushing a strand of wet hair away from your face. You pouted, your bottom lip jutting out slightly.

"You didn't warn me it weighed a ton." You complained. Trent chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your pouty lips. 

"That's why you've got me, yeah?" He stood back up, grabbing the edge of the cover with one hand. He effortlessly picked up the cover, lifting it with ease and tossing it aside. You watched, amused and a little smug, as the bubbling water beneath came into view.  "Easy," he said, flexing a little just to be cheeky. 

"You're so strong, T," you said with a dramatic swoon, wrapping your arms around his bicep and batting your lashes at him.

"And you're so full of shit," he shot back, his teasing smile breaking into a laugh as he glanced down at you. You giggled, stepping into the hot tub first, the warm water instantly melting away the chill of the night air. You shivered slightly as the steam rose around you, and before you could fully settle, Trent climbed in right after you. His big hands found your waist almost immediately, pulling you back into him. 

"C'mere," he cooed, his voice soft as he shifted you into his lap. "You okay?" You nodded, leaning your head back against his chest, the contrast between the cold night air and the hot water making your body relax completely. "Much nicer, no?" he teased, his cheek brushing against your temple as he smiled down at you.

"Much," you murmured, turning in his lap before your hands sliding over his chest. The slick water ran under your palms, gliding over the hard planes of his pecs. Trent hummed softly, his hands roaming over your hips and thighs beneath the water. His thumbs drew small, lazy circles on your skin, his touch making you feel like the only person in the world. You were now facing him, your eyes meeting his. His gaze was warm and heavy, his smile soft but full of something deeper. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his in a slow, tender kiss that spoke more than words ever could. "Better now?" you asked quietly, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw as you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.

"Always better with you," he murmured, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as he kissed you again, this time with a little more heat. The bubbling water swirled around you, but it was nothing compared to the way Trent made you feel-completely and utterly adored. You straddled Trent's lap, the warm water bubbling around you as you locked eyes with him. His hands moved slowly, deliberately, gliding over your waist and thighs under the water. Every touch sent little sparks through your skin, leaving you completely breathless. "Look so sexy, baby," he whispered, his voice low and rich as his lips pressed against your jaw. He kissed his way to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe and pulling it gently between his teeth. Your breath hitched, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as heat flooded your body. Your hands draped around his shoulders, your fingers tracing slow circles on the back of his neck as you arched into him. Trent's kisses trailed down your neck, lingering on your collarbone before moving lower, his lips leaving a path of fire as he kissed your damp skin. "You were killing me today," he murmured against you, his breath warm and teasing. He pressed his lips just above the curve of your bikini top, his hands sliding up your sides to settle just under your chest. "I really, really hate this," he mumbled, pushing the triangles of fabric aside to reveal your bare skin. "About time you take it off f’me, yeah?" Your heart pounded as his thumbs brushed over your exposed nipples, making you whimper softly. You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you reached behind your neck to untie the top.

"All the way off," you hummed, letting the material fall away and float aimlessly in the bubbling water. Trent's gaze darkened, his eyes locking on your bare chest as his thumbs continued to tease you, his touch light but electrifying.

"Such a good girl," he whispered, his voice a little raspier now. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss that made your toes curl. His hands roamed freely now, his palms sliding up your back and pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless. You moaned softly into his mouth, your fingers threading through his damp curls at the top of his head as the heat between you grew. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word from Trent made the world outside the hot tub melt away, leaving only the two of you lost in each other. He rolled your nipples in his fingers, pinching them ever so slightly now and then to make you squirm.

“T, I want you.” You whimpered, desperate for more of him. Even without Trent touching your pussy, you were completely a mess for him. You didn’t need foreplay tonight.   

“I got you, baby.” He whispered. His voice low, only for you, padded only by the sound of the bubbles. His hand slipped under the water and pulled the string of your bikini bottoms. You were completely naked for him perched on his lap. Trent took his time kissing your neck, making sure you knew how perfect you were with each kiss. He snuck one hand under you. You gasped into his mouth, his kiss muffling the noise. Slightly and subconsciously you began to grind against his hand.

“Please, fuck me.” You begged. It was like when he turned on the hot tub, he turned your switches on along with it. It didn’t take long. A bit of teasing from Trent, your hands eager to get to him and suddenly, you were sinking down on his cock. You gasped as a mixture of pleasure and pain washed over you. Trent was big, and you could feel every inch of him stretching you, claiming you as his own. You moved at a torturously slow rate. You wanted to feel him. Trent’s breath hitched reveling in how you felt around him. He’d never get over it. It was special. It was perfect every time.  You could barely keep your head up with the pleasure and stretch. You dropped your head, laying in the crook of Trent’s neck. You bit down on his sensitive skin with heavy breaths as he filled you to the hilt.

“So good f’me baby. Feel so fucking good. This pussy’s perfect.” Trent babbled, biting on your ear lobe as you began to ride him. You moaned as you created the perfect rhythm, you didn’t have the consciousness for it at the moment, but you were pretty sure any of the boys remotely near the windows inside would’ve been able to hear you two but you wouldn’t have cared. Trent certainly didn’t, it felt too good, your brains fogged by the rising steam in the hot tub and eachother.   

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whined, clenching tighter around him, eliciting a sinful groan from him. Trent was hypnotized by your body as you began to ride him. You shut your eyes tight with your mouth agape as your tits bounced. The sight of you falling a part on him in the water was enough to make him cum. You flashed your eyes up to look at him in desperation. The look in your eyes made Trent tense again. His big hands moved to palm your ass, squeezing it and kneading it beneath the water. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you.

"That's it, take all of me, baby. Doing do good," he grunted, his voice filled with primal desire as his length slid in and out of you. "Fuck! You're so tight around me, baby. I love seeing you like this." Trent’s eyes were lit up completely engrossed at the sight of you, wet, desperate, and drenched in moonlight.  You moaned, your body responding to his. The pleasure was intense, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. The hot water lapped at your bodies, adding a sensual touch to the roughness of his possession. Trent's hands held you firmly, his fingers digging into your ass as he guided your movements, his hips meeting yours half way, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Trent's fingers found your sensitive clit, desperate to push you. He began to rub it in firm circles, his touch successfully sending you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure coursed through you.

"Fuck, fuck! T! I’m cumming.” You whined, with a pout unable to stop your high from crashing over you.  Your body shook as the waves of pleasure consumed you. Trent's thrusts became more urgent, and you knew he was close to his own release. His eyes were wild with passion, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss. As your tongues danced, you could taste the heat of his desire. Trent's kiss was demanding, possessive, and it only added to the intensity of the moment. He broke the kiss, his breath coming in short pants as he stared into your eyes.

“That’s it, I got you, baby,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw need. You caught his lips curve into a soft smile before your eyes fluttered closed. You moaned his name again and again. “Cum for me one more time. Just relax, pretty girl. Cum for me.” His words vibrated against you. You nodded, your heart pounding in anticipation. Trent's dominance and his desire to claim you completely were exactly what you craved. 

“T…” You whimpered. You held onto him tightly, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as you felt his cock twitch inside you. You felt white hot pleasure crashed over you. A symphony of whines flowed out of you with every bounce on his cock as he drew out another orgasm.

”Good girl. Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight.” He grunted torn between not wanting this to stop and the undeniable physical urge to finish. You could only manage another whine, too focused on the slow drag of his cock, you could feel every hard vein and ridge of it slowly fucking into you.

“Please.” It came out as a whisper, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock, the friction of his solid stomach against your clit under the water as you grinded against him. 

“I gotcha, gonna cum, yeah? I’m gonna cum. Fuck, baby. You’re fucking perfect, your pussy’s so perfect for me, made for my cock.” Trent spoke between heaving breaths as his fingers dug into your skin and his head falling into your tits, as he pushed his hips up one last time before he spilled into your tight heat. Trent's body stiffened as you felt his hot cum filling you, his release triggering another wave of pleasure in your sensitive pussy. Trent rolled his eyes at the way you gently moved your hips against his to help him ride out his high.  “Oh my god, Y/N.”  He groaned as you clenched around him. You didn’t want him to pull out yet. You gripped your fingers on his hair and massaged his scalp with your nails, causing Trent to hum in contentment, whilst his hands caressed your back in soothing motions. “My good fucking girl. Hmm? So fucking sexy.” He whispered as he pulled you tight to his chest. 

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, the world outside of the hot tub slipping away entirely; unable to separate, unable to pull your body off his, and Trent unable to let you go either.  Trent’s hands never left your body, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other caressing your thigh under the water. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, feeling safe, warm, and utterly content in his hold. His fingers tracing lazy circles along your skin, grounding you further with each gentle motion.

“I love you,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you so much, pretty girl,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. His voice was low, tender, and filled with a kind of reassurance that made your heart ache. You turned your head slightly, looking up at him. His dark eyes gazed back at you with so much warmth, and you couldn’t help but lean up to capture his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. He hummed against your mouth, a deep sound of contentment that vibrated through your chest. But the moment was shattered by the loud laughter echoing from inside the house, pulling you both back to reality. Your cheeks flushed as you realized how long you’d been wrapped up in each other. You looked at him and he smiled realizing that it was time to go.

“Whoops!” You giggled with a shy smile, grabbing your bikini from the tiling besides the hot tub behind Trent. Trent let out a small chuckle, his thumb brushing against your hip. 

“You sure you want to put that on?” He asked you with a cheeky grin as his chest still rapidly rose and fell, knackered after sex that felt more like a workout. 

“Do you want me to go inside like this?” You raised your brow teasingly as you tied the side of your bikini bottom back on. Trent laughed breathily. He reached out to you and pulled you into him.

“Nah. When you’re like this, you’re just for me.” He whispered, pressing his nose against yours. You nodded hesitantly. A part of you recalled Josh saying those very words, using them to gaslight you, and yet when Trent said it, it felt different. 

“Just for you?” You asked softly and inquisitively, your voice barely above a whisper. You prayed he would be nothing like Josh. When Josh said it, it meant, you only were for him, yet he could still do as he pleased, aka see other girls. Trent's words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. A part of you felt vulnerable asking such a question, afraid of the answer, of what it could mean. Josh's words from the past haunted you, a constant reminder of control disguised as affection. But Trent-he wasn't Josh.

"Yeah, just for me," Trent said firmly, his voice gentle but unwavering. He ran his hands purposefully over your damp skin, tracing the curves of your waist like he was memorizing every inch of you. "This is private—me and you. No one else. No one gets to see you like this but me." His gaze locked onto yours, dark and steady, filled with something raw and unspoken. He paused, his thumbs brushing over your hips as if grounding you. "This body's sacred. And as long as you’re in it,” He smirked hoping you’d maybe crack a smile at a little joke but you were stoic, terrified to trust him. “I'll take care of you. Always." He reminded you. 

"Oh..." you whimpered, your throat tightening as the sincerity of his words wrapped around you like a warm blanket. It wasn't possessive; it wasn't controlling. It was reverence-something you weren't used to but craved deeply. You couldn't help the tear that slipped down your cheek, overwhelmed by the difference. "You mean that?" you asked shakily, needing to hear it again, to be reassured.

"I mean it,' he said, his voice gentle but firm. He cupped your face, his fingers warm against your cheeks. "It's me and you, baby. Just us. I've got you." The sincerity in his eyes made you feel like the safest person in the world. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face into the curve of his shoulder. He pulled you in even closer, his large hands sliding up your back, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. You let out a shaky breath, finally finding the courage to let the moment soothe the part of you that had doubted. 

"Okay," you murmured against his skin.

“And I’m just for you. You’re the only one that gets me, pretty girl. Gets my attention, gets me to lift hot tub covers off, gets me to cuddle during films, gets me to kiss goodnight, you name it. Only you get it. Only you.” He told you earnestly. Your eyes got a bit glossy so Trent paused. He sympathetically smiled at you. “That alright with you?” He asked patiently, knowing this wasn’t easy. 

 "I like it that way. Just us." You weakly told him. Trent pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so you were looking at him again. His thumb brushed against your jaw before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Good. It's not gonna be any other way." He smirked. You nodded, smiling softly. 

"So... bikini on?" you asked with a cheeky grin, breaking the moment's intensity.

"Till I get you in bed, yeah," Trent teased, his lips twitching into that signature smile. His hands moved to your waist again, giving you a playful squeeze. "But just remember-only me, alright? Don't want all the other lads getting jealous." He cooed. You giggled, draping your arms around him tighter, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

"Only you," you promised, letting yourself believe in the love he was offering, trusting in the safety of his words. As you buried your face into Trent’s neck, his arms tightened around you protectively, the heat from the hot tub lingering on your skin. 

“I mean it, you know,” he murmured softly, his breath warm against your temple. “This is our world, just me and you. No one else matters when I have you like this.” He confessed. You let out a shaky breath, your heart swelling at his words. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had this,” you whispered against his neck, your voice trembling slightly. “Someone who just…wants me, for me. I didn’t think I could have this.” You shyly told him. Trent leaned back slightly to look at you, his hands cradling your face. 

“You've always had me. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted, Y/N,” he said earnestly, his deep brown eyes locked onto yours. “You don’t have to be scared, yeah? I’ll never make you feel like you’re not enough. Never. Because you are a fucking dream to me. I want you, every little bit.” He whispered kissing your skin again and again, emphasizing that he wanted every bit. You nodded slowly, your tears threatening to spill again. But this time, they weren’t tears of pain or fear—they were tears of gratitude, of relief. You hadn’t felt this safe in someone’s arms… ever.

“C’mon, pretty girl” Trent whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Let’s get inside before I change my mind about letting you put that bikini back on.” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood, and you couldn’t help but giggle softly, wiping at your eyes.

“Fine, but you’re carrying me, there are always slugs by the pool at night this late,” you teasingly instructed, leaning back into him, your hands lacing around his neck. He rolled his eyes with a little laugh you wished you could bottle and keep forever.

“Yeah, yeah, so it’s the slugs now, huh?” He smiled at you. You rolled your bottom lip pleadingly. “Do whatever you want. I always will,” he said, scooping you up effortlessly in the hot tub. He stood up as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, the cool night air biting at your skin as he stepped out of the hot tub, with you in his arms. He carried you inside, his chest rising and falling steadily against you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed things could actually be okay.

Trent hesitated, his hand lingering on the small of your back as you both quietly slipped into the house. He looked down at you, his brow furrowed slightly, caught in a silent debate.

“Hey, baby. Can I just go grab a water quick? Then I’ll meet you up there,” he murmured softly, his voice gentle but distracted. You tilted your head at him, seeing right through his attempt to sidestep the real issue. 

“You can go ask him, T,” you said quietly, your pout making it impossible for him to avoid your gaze. You were nervous about tonight as well, but you could tell Trent felt like he needed to do things right. That he was walking somehow on an even thinner tightrope. That if there was a misstep, he would feel at fault. It was sweet, you liked knowing he cared but you also felt a bit guilty. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced toward the hallway that led to the cinema, where he knew Jack was still sitting with Noah. He didn’t want to overstep, even if the thought of not being by your side tonight was inconceivable. Even if Jack said no, he knew he was weak for you, that he'd find a way to be with you and that's exactly why he needed to go above board tonight.

“Baby…” he started, his tone unsure. You leaned into him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you looked up at him. Trent was going to stay in your room no matter what, but he also didn’t want to go to bed feeling like a snake either. 

“As long as you are going to come back and sleep with me, T, go. I know you, I know you want to do it right.” You smiled at him sympathetically. “You’re the sweetest, baby.” You cooed softly. “So if it’s bothering you, you can go talk it over with your best friend,” you said softly, stroking your fingers over his back in slow, soothing circles. Trent let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. 

“You know me too well, pretty girl,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I just… I don’t want to be a dick about it, yeah? I know this is all new for him, for everyone.” He unnecessarily explained. You nodded, understanding. 

“He’ll get it. He knows how much you mean to me. How much I love you.” You told him, although you were saying it mostly to convince yourself that Jack would understand. Trent hummed, leaning his forehead against yours for a moment before stepping back. 

“Alright, wait for me upstairs, please. Gotta go tell your brother how much I love you.” He smirked. You smiled, brushing a quick kiss over his lips before turning to head up the stairs.  

Trent made his way into the cinema room, his heart pounding slightly. Jack and Noah were mid-conversation, a half-empty beer in front of each of them. They both looked up as Trent stepped into the room, and Jack raised an eyebrow, already guessing where this was going.

“Alright, mate?” Jack asked, leaning back in his chair, pausing the show on the screen. Trent nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. 

“Yeah, bro…” Trent said softly as he stepped into the dimly lit room. Jack hadn’t gone to bed yet—he couldn’t, he was afraid of what he might hear if he were to go up before you. So to save himself, he sacrificed sleep and instead roped Noah into a marathon of a show he knew he’d stay awake for. They were sitting there, the glow of the now paused screen illuminating their faces. Jack was patient, he had subconsciously hoped this would be Trent’s move tonight, getting his approval, so he waited, but Noah immediately nodded his head, cueing Trent to say something. Trent ran a hand over his face attempting to compose himself after Noah's nudge. “Just wanted to, erm… check in.” Trent spoke vaguely. Noah smirked, taking a sip of his beer and leaning back to watch the exchange unfold.

“Check in?” Jack repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. “She okay?” Jack asked, concern evident in his voice. His thoughts immediately jumped to you—had you gotten upset again? Why was Trent being so weird?

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Trent nodded quickly, easing Jack’s worry. “She’s fine.” But the way Trent shifted nervously on his feet, fidgeting slightly with his hands, didn’t go unnoticed. Jack’s brows furrowed. 

“Are you, bro?” he asked, with a subtle smile. It was soft though, not teasing. Jack was confused by the sudden change in Trent’s demeanor. 

“Uh…” Trent hesitated, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Noah grinned enjoying this. He wasn't sure he had seen Trent this awkward since they were little boys. “No, I guess. I just wanted to, uh, make sure it’s cool with you if I’m in her room tonight.” The words came out awkwardly, and Trent’s usual calm and confident demeanor seemed to falter. He was clearly uneasy, and Jack picked up on it instantly. Jack leaned back in his seat, smirking a little. 

“Trentski, I’m not her dad,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood. Noah laughed. He had comments and jokes at the ready but he could feel Trent’s nerves radiating off him. So he bit his tongue. But when Trent didn’t laugh, Jack realized he wasn’t joking around. He sighed, sitting up straighter. He knew what this was about, he understood it. As much as he didn’t want to be, Jack had been like a parental figure to you in a lot of ways. It wasn’t just about Trent staying in your room—it was about respect, about boundaries, and about making sure this wasn’t going to mess up the delicate balance of their lives. He appreciated Trent for acknowledging it, even if it stayed just under the surface. Jack took a deep breath before speaking again. “Mate, it’s fine. I actually will kill you if I hear anything but… it’s fine. If it’s you, it’s all good. You’ve got her.” Jack explained earnestly, accepting the fate that his best mate would be up in his little sister’s room. At least it was Trent, he tried to rationalize with himself.

“Yeah, just, you know…” Trent trailed off, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Trent nodded once over taking in what Jack had said, visibly relieved but still fidgeting. “Mate, I just didn’t want you to feel like I’ve dropped caring about you or us because I’m with her,” he said earnestly. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you’ve lost me or something.” Trent admitted. Jack paused at that. He hadn’t expected Trent to say something like that, and it hit him harder than he anticipated. He valued that more than he was willing to vocalize tonight so he shoved the unexpected emotion down, taking a swig of his beer to buy himself a second.

“Nah, bro. I appreciate it,” Jack said, his voice genuine. “We’re cool. Like I said, I just don’t want to hear it. Trust me, I know it’s happening.” He forced a laugh, trying to mask how weird it still was for him to think about Trent and you together. Noah chuckled first, Trent quick to follow, his shoulders relaxing a bit more. 

“Thanks, mate. Love you,” he said, leaning down to dap Jack up, their handshake turning into a brief hug.

“All good. Love you, bro,” Jack said, shaking his head as Trent walked out. He stayed seated for a moment longer, staring at the screen but not really watching it. He appreciated Trent coming down to ask—it showed he cared. But still, Jack wasn’t quite sure how he’d survive a whole summer of this, let alone a lifetime without losing his mind. Noah raised his brows with a smug smirk leaning back in his chair suppressing a laugh. Jack heard the stifled chuckle. “Noah, say one fucking thing…” Jack threatened him knowing there were a million teasing remarks at the ready. Noah just raised his hands in innocence with a cheeky giggle thinking the whole thing was quite amusing. 

When Trent opened the door, you were already curled up in bed, propped against a pile of pillows, the glow of your bedside lamp casting a warm light on your features. You smiled up at him as he stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

“All sorted,” he murmured, his voice low as he crossed the room, his eyes softening the moment they landed on you.

“Did you get bestie’s approval?” you teased, your lips curling into a sly grin. You sat up, watching him as he made his way to your bed. “Told you it’d be fine,” you added with a knowing smirk. Trent rolled his eyes playfully, crouching slightly as he rested his hands on the edge of the bed. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his tone laced with fondness. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your hair, the familiar gesture sending a wave of warmth through you.

“I still have to shower….” you murmured, your voice taking on a teasing lilt. Your eyes lit up with faux innocence as you smirked up at him. “But I was waiting for you.” Trent raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into an amused grin. 

“Nah, see, you’re gonna get me in trouble!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Please,” you giggled, reaching out to grab his arms, tugging at him playfully. 

“Ah, yeah, fine, only because you waited for me,” he teased, sarcasm dripping from his words as he let you pull him closer. You flashed him a beaming smile, your laughter filling the room. “C’mon, pretty girl,” he said with a low laugh, bending down to scoop you up into his arms effortlessly. You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you toward the ensuite. His grip on you was secure, his warmth seeping into your skin as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck.

“Shhh, I’m serious, gonna get me in trouble,” he murmured, his lips curled into a smile brushed against your temple.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get into maybe just a little bit of trouble tonight with me, baby?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He chuckled softly, shaking his head, his chest vibrating against yours as he pushed the bathroom door open with his foot. 

“Fucks sake,” he laughed, setting you down gently on the cool tiles. Trent knew he was cooked, he couldn't resist you. He’d spent too many years dreaming of getting invited up, he wasn’t going to waste it now. 

The morning light spilled softly through your curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. You stirred awake to the sound of steady, rhythmic breathing and the comforting weight of Trent’s arm draped around your waist. His chest rose and fell against your cheek, and you could feel the heat of his body pressed into yours. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and let out a quiet sigh. The night before had been so full of emotion, laughter, and a bit of chaos, but here, in the stillness of your room, it was just the two of you. Trent’s presence was grounding, and you found yourself tracing lazy patterns on his forearm with your nails, smiling faintly at how calm he looked in his sleep. You tilted your head slightly, catching a glimpse of his face. His hair was messy and his lips were slightly parted as he slept. He looked peaceful, boyish almost, and it made your heart ache in the best way. The soft movement of your fingers must have stirred him because Trent let out a low hum, his arm tightening around your waist. 

“Mmm… morning, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough from sleep. You smiled at the sound, nuzzling your face against his chest. 

“Morning,” you whispered back, your voice soft and sweet. Trent shifted slightly, pressing his lips to the top of your head in a lazy kiss. 

“How long have you been up?” he asked, his hand slipping under the hem of his shirt you nicked last night after a cheeky shared shower to rest on the warm skin of your stomach.

“Not long,” you replied, your voice still hushed. “Just… thinking.” You cooed.

“Thinking about what, baby?” he asked, his voice curious but gentle as his fingers traced small circles on your skin.

“About how nice this feels,” you admitted shyly, your cheeks warming. Trent chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Excited for breakfast with your bestie?” You hummed with a sleepy soft giggle. 

“Breakfast with you? Yeah, always.” Trent cooed, rubbing his hands up and down your back. His voice was quieter now, more sincere. You shifted slightly in his arms to look at him, his face still relaxed but his brown eyes now focused entirely on you.

“No.” You giggled. “Jack, baby,” you murmured, reminding Trent as your fingers brushing against his jawline. You were teasing him about waking up at your house, with your brother aka his best friend just down the hall. He smiled with a shake of the head, leaning down to kiss your forehead before pulling you closer against him, his legs tangling with yours under the blanket. 

“Eh, not interested, got you.” He whispered, cupping your cheek and tilting your face upwards to kiss your sleepy pouty lips. 

“I’m telling him you said that.” You giggled again teasing him. You began to pretend as if you were going to get out of bed to go tell Jack but he held you down to him playfully.  

“Nah, Nah, can’t do that. Shhh!” He hushed you with a cheeky quiet laugh.  The room filled with soft laughter as you squirmed playfully against Trent’s hold. His deep chuckles vibrated through his chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him despite your faux protests. 

“What, baby?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him, your lips curling into a smirk with a furrowed brow. Trent pulled you roughly tighter into him until your faces were mere inches apart. 

“Shhh, need you to be quiet.” He hushed you with a smile, kissing you, wrapping his arms tighter around you, refusing to let you move. You shook your head in defiance. "My best friend told me he’d kill me if he heard us.”  Trent admitted with a sly grin. He laughed a little seeing your cheeky smile unable to hold it in.  He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight kiss. “So shhh,” he whispered again, his tone playful. You arched a brow, mischief dancing in your eyes. 

“Oh, so you’re worried about noise? I think I remember someone who wasn’t so quiet last night in the shower,” you teased, your voice low but full of cheek. Trent’s ears turned a faint shade of pink as he chuckled, shaking his head.

 “Alright, alright, but that’s on you, not me,” he muttered. Your jaw slacked offended he’d try to place the blame on you. He smiled loving that he knew exactly how to get under your skin. “Hey, pretty girl, you’re the one who makes me feel that good, baby. Not my fault and to be honest, I’d rather face a right hook from Jack than give you up last night.” He smirked with some cheek.

“Hmm,” you hummed sarcastically with a roll of the eyes, acting as if you didn’t believe him. You tried to roll away once more out of his arms.

“Nah, serious!” He yelped playful yet desperate to get you to believe him. Trent’s hands found your waist, his strong grip easily pinning you back down against his chest before you could make your escape. He got closer to you, dropping his forehead to rest against yours. “This fucking pussy has me a complete mess. Do anything to have more of you. I need you, baby.” He whispered, dropping his voice and octave lower as his lips ghosted over yours. 

“Wow.” You giggled at the serious look on his face. “Well maybe I should make sure your old besties know they’ve been replaced, all because you just like getting your dick wet.” You teased, your lips brushing over his as you spoke. Trent kissed his teeth. 

“Nah, c’mere. You know you’re more than that to me.” His big hand came up and grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you into a messy kiss. You pulled away with a stupid grin and a giggle. “You know I love you, just being with you, and seeing that smile.” Trent shot you the most dangerous smile in return. It was conniving and mocking and beautiful. Your heart faltered at how pretty he was but also how much he genuinely care about you. That you weren't just a body to him. Trent giggled before he spoke again. The childish little boy laugh you'd heard your whole life. You raised your brows awaiting his next words because clearly he thought they were funny. “But it also doesn't hurt if I get to have my hands on this perfect body, take all these clothes off, have my lips all over you, be inside that pretty pussy, seeing you whining for me, making you cum over and over… That’s not so bad, little bit more than getting my dick wet, but… If you ever want to let me just get my dick wet, I won’t stop ya.” He smirked smugly. Your eyes widened with faux offense.

“So I should tell them that instead?” You asked teasingly.

“Not a chance, pretty girl,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours as his fingers tickled your sides, earning a squeal from you. You wiggled and giggled against him, completely wrapped in his hold.

“Okay! Okay! T! Stop, I won’t tell them! Baby!!” you finally cried out between laughs, breathless and flushed.

“Good,” Trent said with a satisfied smirk, his hands stilling on your waist. He looked at you for a moment, his smile softening as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “Because I don’t care about them. Just want to be with you.” He confessed. Your laughter quieted as your heart melted at his words. You leaned down, kissing him softly, your fingers tangling in his curls. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, baby,” you murmured against his lips.

“And I’m so lucky you love me, pretty girl,” he whispered back, his voice full of affection, pulling you back down into his arms as the morning sun filtered through your curtains. You hummed as you nestled into him, letting his words and the steady rhythm of his breathing soothe you. For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter—it was just you and Trent, cocooned in the warmth of each other. 

“T!” you squealed, sprinting down the stairs, your laugh echoing through the house as Trent chased after you, his fingers darting out to pinch your side. The silly morning you were having with him, filled with cheeky jokes, and sloppy kisses didn’t stay confined to your bedroom. You hadn't dropped the idea of telling Noah and Jack you'd replaced them as Trent's best friend.

“Baby! Don’t throw me under the bus, hmm?” Trent yelped, catching you at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the ground. You squirmed in his hold, your laughter spilling out as he spun you around like a rag doll. “C’mere, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he pressed kisses to your neck, playfully, his stubble tickling your skin.

In the kitchen, Noah and Jack exchanged looks over their mugs of coffee, the sound of your giggles and Trent’s playful hums breaking the morning’s quiet. Noah’s smirk grew wide, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a comment. Jack, on the other hand, merely shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line. You and Trent attempted to compose yourselves as you entered the kitchen, both of you flushed from laughing. 

“Do you want eggs, baby?” you asked, your voice soft and affectionate, the pet name rolling off your tongue like it was second nature. Noah’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin at the exchange, his eyes flicking between the two of you like he was watching his favorite sitcom. 

“Baby now, huh, Trenty?” he teased under his breath, just loud enough for you all to hear. You ignored him, focusing instead on Trent, who had just walked over to dap up Noah and Jack.

“Yes, please,” he answered, his voice warm and easy as he continued his path around the kitchen island back to move to stand behind you. Trent’s hands found their place on your waist, pulling you close so your back was flush against his chest.  “You know you’re the best, pretty girl?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered. You smiled, leaning into him as his big hands splayed across your stomach, his fingers flexing gently against the fabric of his shirt you were still in. Something definitely not lost on anyone in the kitchen. Jack let out an exaggerated groan, setting his coffee mug down with a thud. 

“This much? Seriously, this early?” Jack asked, watching you and Trent.

“Let them live, Jacky boy,” Noah laughed, leaning back in his chair with a shake of his head enjoying watching Jack squirm. You turned to glance at Jack over your shoulder, an innocent smile gracing your lips. 

“We’re not doing anything, Jack!” you protested, though the way Trent’s lips skimmed the side of your neck as you spoke said otherwise.

“Not doing anything, huh?” Jack shot back, raising an eyebrow nodding at Trent with a teasing grin. “Maybe try keeping your hands to yourselves for five minutes, or giving eachother even an inch of space, yeah?” He gave you a feigned look of disgust watching Trent’s big hands stay on your body, unmoved by his words. Trent chuckled against your skin, his arms tightening around you protectively. 

“Can’t make any promises, mate,” he quipped, kissing the spot just behind your ear as if to prove a point. Jack groaned again, muttering something under his breath about ‘never-ending,’ while Noah just laughed, shaking his head again at the whole ordeal.

“Also, I wouldn’t mind eggs either, just saying…” Noah eventually chirped, leaning back in his chair with a smirk watching you begin to make Trent’s.

“Nah, mate, we’re not ‘baby,’” Jack quipped, piling on the teasing. “I don’t think we’re getting breakfast.” You let out a small giggle, secretly relieved by the playful banter. As long as it wasn’t awkward tension, you could handle the teasing.

“Tough work, mate, getting ‘baby’ status,” Trent shot back, his lips quirking into a smug grin. “I won’t lie, but the perks… let me tell you...” He cheekily left the statement open ended as he kissed your temple for emphasis before turning back to Jack and Noah with a look. Noah caught the tone and immediately smirked, reading between the lines. 

“Ah, yeah, we know the perks, don’t we, Jack?” Noah chuckled. Jack made an exaggerated, grossed-out face, covering his eyes. 

“Don’t even start, mate. No one needs that mental image.” He scoffed with a teasing smile knowing that joking was the only way this would ever be normal. Joking was a fundamental part of their friendship, and with their friendship and you, humor was a lifeline.  

“Nah, hold on,” Trent laughed, waving his hands defensively. “That’s not what I meant—just breakfast!” He attempted to defend himself. Like second nature, you opted not to help him out, you chimed in with a cheeky grin.

“I know, comes with taking that number one best friend spot too, huh?” You giggled. Trent’s jaw dropped at your betrayal, his hands quick to come playfully squeeze your sides, dragging you into him.

“Nah, can’t believe you just sold me out like that!” He yelped, wrapping his arms around you so tightly, you couldn’t even struggle. “Baby!” He pleaded, annoyed you just did that in front of his best mates. Jack and Noah burst into laughter seeing Trent get called out for being a simp. Years of friendship be damned, it was always great to see Trent whine about a joke.

“Wow, bro! Took you one movie night to drop Noah and I? You fucking piece of shit! ” Jack said through his cackles. Even you couldn’t help giggling, your face tucked into Trent’s chest as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Awh, Trenty,” Noah teased, clearly enjoying himself. “Even your girl’s selling you out, bro. That’s tough.” He mocked him.  Trent let out an exaggerated groan but couldn’t hide the smile on his face. 

“Alright, alright, fuck off. Come on, lads. It’s different.” He smiled shyly realizing you were in fact his best friend, he just didn’t want to get into the semantics of what made you a different kind of best friend compared to the two boys. Noah and Jack rolled their eyes in unison continuing to torment Trent. “Whatever, don't need you lot anyway.” He puffed out air squeezing you tighter. “I’ll just keep my perks and my eggs to myself.” He smirked. You turned to kiss his cheek in consolation, with a hum of agreement. “Absolute snake,” Trent whispered in your ear, pulling you closer as you giggled.

Noah and Jack continued to tease Trent relentlessly, their laughter echoing through the kitchen as Trent tried to defend himself in vain. Finally, you slid three plates of eggs over to the boys, their teasing momentarily pausing as they eyed their breakfast.

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, mockingly holding up his hands in surrender as he took a bite. “At least ‘baby’ knows how to cook up.”

“Can’t say the same for you,” Noah added with a smirk, earning a glare from Jack. Ignoring them, you came around the counter, wrapping your arms around Trent from behind. He immediately leaned back into your embrace, his warm smile easing any guilt you might’ve felt for teasing him earlier.

“I’m sorry, baby. I love you,” you whispered softly into his ear before pressing a kiss just below it. Trent turned his head slightly, catching your gaze with that signature cheeky glint in his eye. 

“Nah, don’t be,” he replied casually, his voice at a normal volume so everyone could hear. “You are my best friend.” He smirked, awaiting Jack and Noah’s inevitable response. They instantly looked offended, their reactions in perfect synchronization as they both dropped their forks.

“Excuse me, bro?!” Jack snapped, with a laugh, feeling like this actually could be okay, that this could work if you and Trent were so light hearted about it all, so welcoming of the teasing. 

“I thought we were kidding. Fuck you!” Noah chimed in, looking dramatically betrayed. Trent couldn’t hold back his laugh, his grin smug and playful as he leaned forward to take a bite of his eggs.

“What? Just being honest,” he muffled out words with his mouth full, savoring the moment of turning the tables on them. You couldn’t help but giggle at the chaos, leaning down to kiss his cheek again. 

“Baby… Stop stirring the pot,” you whispered. 

“Nah, they deserve it.” He smirked, taking another bite of food. “Mmm, so good, pretty girl. This is why you're my best friend. Thank you,” Trent hummed contentedly, turning his head to kiss your lips this time. The kiss was quick, sweet, but enough to make Noah groan and Jack roll his eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Jack muttered, picking up his fork again. “Gross. But also, true, eggs are good Y/N. Thank you.” Jack would tease you but he was sure to never take you for granted. You smiled and grabbed your own plate, finally taking a seat next to Trent.

“Yeah, eggs are boss, Y/N. Thank you.” Noah added as you all continued to eat your breakfast. “So, was thinking a little last night….” Noah began with a mischievous smile. “Just curious does anyone know how you clean a hot tub? What do you do... You know if it gets dirty.” He smirked, taking a big bite of eggs, stuffing his mouth full. Your jaw slacked a little. Jack snapped his head towards you, turning to face you with a disapproving look. Trent kicked the leg of Noah’s seat in retaliation, causing him to stumble and choke a little on his food. There was no real harm though, and that was clear the moment Noah finally swallowed his eggs and fell into a loud laugh. “Gonna be a good summer, lads!” He grinned triumphantly knowing his bit landed; Jack having to accept his fate, Trent being knocked down a peg, and you reminded someone was always watching. As the boys continued their banter, your gaze flickered between them and Trent, his hand caressing on your thigh under the counter top. This was it. The teasing, the laughter, the love—it all felt right. This was your new normal, and you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The gym hummed with low energy, a mix of clinking weights and faint music filtering through the speakers. It wasn’t overly crowded, just a few people scattered around, focused on their routines. Devon stood by a bench, leaning against it with a towel draped over his shoulders. His mind wasn’t on his workout anymore; it hadn’t been since he’d walked in and seen Josh.

He watched as Josh stood at the weight rack, effortlessly curling dumbbells, his expression smug and self-satisfied as usual. Devon felt a wave of discomfort wash over him. He’d always thought Josh was cocky, maybe a bit of a prick, but this? The things Layla had told him—the video, the way Josh talked about you—it was so much worse than he could have imagined. Devon hesitated, fiddling with the towel in his hands as he debated whether to approach. Confronting Josh wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do, but it was becoming harder to ignore the nagging voice in his head. This isn’t right. Someone has to say something. Taking a deep breath, he finally pushed off the bench and made his way over.

“Hey, mate,” Devon said, his voice casual but tight as he came to stand near Josh. Josh glanced over, setting the dumbbells down with a clang. 

“Yo, bro. You good?” he asked, his tone easy but laced with confusion. Devon shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the gym before finally speaking. 

“Erm… So you and Y/N—what’s the deal there?” Devon asked haphazardly trying to figure out what was going. Josh raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“What do you mean, ‘what’s the deal’? She’s mine. Simple.” The casual possessiveness in his tone made Devon’s stomach churn. He tried to keep his composure, but his jaw tightened. 

“Mate, you can’t really believe that, yeah? She’s not… yours. She’s moved on.” Josh’s smirk faltered slightly, his expression darkening. 

“Fuck off, Dev. What’s up with you?” He questioned. Devon hesitated, but he knew there was no turning back now. 

“No, serious, bro” Devon tone was bordering on pleading. “It’s just cause, the video you have of her… It’s not… you know…” Devon mumbled, not really able to formulate a compelling argument detailing how morally wrong it was. 

“Dev, bro… She’s a whore, things like that, of girls like that, are meant to be shared, yeah?” He explained with a smirk as if that was the most normal thing in the world. Devon’s stomach flipped. He knew Josh was kind of an ass, but they were teammates, they had fun together but this had gone too far. 

“Bro, it’s not cool, you know. Can’t hold that shit over people, it obviously wasn’t for you.” Devon snipped and it struck a nerve. 

“No, it was for me.” Josh stood up with force. “She’s mine, that piece of shit, Alexander-Arnold can’t have her. She’s a whore. So I’ll use that video to get her doing what she does best, to come back, and take Trent down in the process. Easy. Fuck them, bro.” Josh explained seriously. He truly believe this was sound logic.

“Nah, mate. There just isn’t an excuse for it. None of that is true and even if…” Devon stuttered, not sure if he could convince Josh but he’d try. “Bro, even if she was a whore or whatever you want to think, it doesn’t make it okay to do this type of shit.” Devon didn’t defend Trent, he didn’t really know him at the end of the day, but the thought of Layla crying was something he felt inclined to fix. He was just trying to get Josh to see how outlandish what he was saying was. 

“Dev, who the fuck do you think you are telling me what to do with that whore of all people… Fuck Alexander-Arnold.” Josh snapped looking at Devon with daggers in his eyes. “You need to relax. Get laid or something.” He quipped shoving down any thought that Devon could have a point.  

“Bro they’re in a relationship!” Devon yelped. “That’s his girlfriend. It’s just time you let that one lie. Plenty of girls elsewhere. Come on.” Devon begged. Josh froze, his grip tightening on the towel in his hand. 

“What.” Josh bit furiously. 

“What? I’m just saying. That it’s one thing to play dirty and try to get a girl but she has a boyfriend. It wasn’t a video meant for you… Just.” Devon sighed. “Just let it go.”  He looked at Josh pleadingly.

“Boyfriend?” Josh asked.  “You’re not serious…He’s her boyfriend?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. Devon nodded slowly. 

“Yeah, mate. It’s serious. Her mate Layla…” Devon began to cite Layla as a source but Josh cut himoff. 

“Oh I see. Y/N having everyone do her dirty work again.” He said with a cocky grin and cynical laugh.

“Bro, stop. Come on, just time to move on from that one. They’re in love or some shit.” Devon sheepishly but surely explained. Josh let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. 

“Love? Trent doesn’t love her. He doesn’t even know her. She’s a whore, mate. Girls like her don’t get love—they get what I give them.” The words hit Devon like a punch to the gut. His face hardened, and he clenched his fists at his sides. 

“Aye, bro.” Devon cautioned Josh, starting to get pissed off. “I get it, you like to have that dom shit going with girls but you can’t talk about girls like that. You don’t get to talk about someone like that,” he said sharply, his voice rising. Josh scoffed, stepping closer to Devon. 

“Don’t start preaching to me, Dev. You’ve had your fun with Layla, yeah? Stay in your lane. This isn’t your business. Maybe you need to fuck her again, loosen up.” Josh spit back. 

“Mate, this is my business,” Devon shot back. “That video? That’s extortion. It’s disgusting. And you’re holding it over them like some sick game.” Josh’s eyes narrowed, and his smirk returned, more sinister than ever. 

“She’s mine. She’ll come back to me, and Trent? He’s done. Local lad, big dreams? Whatever the fuck his whole brand is. Bullshit and I’ll burn it down with this. Just stay the fuck out of it.” Josh explained simply. Devon shook his head, his voice dripping with disgust. 

“You’re fucking tapped, mate! This isn’t about her coming back to you. You gotta accept she with a lad who does beat the shit out of her.” Devon bit back and Josh’s smirk faltered for a moment, he was pissed. Josh quickly recovered though, stepping even closer. 

“Keep talking, Dev, and you’ll regret it. I always win. Always.” Devon held his ground, refusing to back down. 

“Nah, mate. Not this time. You’ve already lost. This has nothing to do with anything other than just being a good person. This isn't something you can win. Just delete the video. Let her go.” Devon begged Josh once over hoping maybe he’d have a revelation.  Josh let out a humorless laugh before turning on his heel and walking away. The tension in the gym was palpable as Devon stood rooted in place, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Josh’s words reverberated through his mind, each syllable dripping with venom and delusion. Devon stared at his own reflection in the mirror, trying to process what he’d just heard. He had always known Josh could be a bit of an dick—a cocky, arrogant type who liked to push boundaries. But this? This wasn’t just crossing a line; it was obliterating it.

Josh had walked off, smug and confident, leaving Devon standing alone at the weight rack, his stomach churning. He had never felt so conflicted. A part of him wanted to brush it off, to stay out of it like Josh had demanded. But the other part—the part that had spent time with Layla, the part that imagined if he was the one in Trent’s shoes—couldn’t ignore how completely messed up the situation had become. Josh’s insistence that he ‘owned’ you made Devon sick. The way he spat your name, the way he dismissed Trent and twisted everything into his own warped narrative—it was beyond disgusting. Devon let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in the middle of this mess, but he knew one thing: Josh wasn’t going to let it go. And now, with Josh fully aware that you and Trent were in a serious relationship, Devon knew things were only going to escalate. He grabbed a towel off the bench, his mind racing. He couldn’t go back to pretending this wasn’t happening. Not anymore. He wondered if he should talk to Layla— If Josh was planning something, you and Trent deserved a heads up.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 26 xx

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle on my mind - Chapter 13

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: We're still in 1975...

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 2.4K

TWs: Very little. Angst, fluff.

Gloria is nervous about her kids meeting Elvis for the first time, but, as she sits on the bed watching him get changed into his fourth outfit option, she realises not as nervous as he is. She smiles at him in his version of casual wear - a navy shirt and pants, with one of his stage jackets over the top and a large gold belt. 

“Whaddya think?” He turns towards her, fiddling with the bracelet he just put on. 

She steps forward, putting her arms around his neck and looking up into his face. “Gorgeous. Don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you.”

The slightly unsure expression that had been on his face when he’d first turned towards her from staring at his reflection in the long mirror on the wall turns into a sunshine smile. He gives her a quick kiss and then they both realise the time, again, and head downstairs. 

The kids are shy when they first arrive, Elvis is big and sparkly and intimidating. But it takes no time at all for him to be on the floor, play-wrestling them both at once, and the shyness melts away completely. Gloria and Patricia chat for a while as they watch him interacting with Corey and Jackie, exchanging smiles with one another at how much of a natural he is with them. As if he’s known them forever. 

Elvis has taken his jacket off, and is sat on the floor panting with exertion as Jackie leans against his arm and Corey sits between his legs, his little hands on Elvis’ not insubstantial belly. 

“I surrender!” He exclaims, his hands in the air. “Ya win. I can’t fight no more.” 

He closes his eyes and sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth, head flopping to one side as his arms flop down comedically. 

Corey’s little hands slap his belly repeatedly. “You’re not dead! You’re pretending!”

Elvis immediately recovers, opening his eyes and staring right at the little boy. “I’m not dead…” he leans forward, making his eyes menacing and screwing his face up. “...I’m THE UNDEAD! RAAAAAH!” He launches himself forward and Corey screams. 

Elvis wraps him up in a big hug and then giggles right in his ear, before starting an onslaught of tickling. He feels another hand on his arm and looks over to see Jackie sitting there, pouting. She’s not much over a year older than her brother, and she doesn’t like being left out. And being quieter, she often is. Elvis chuckles and pulls her into his lap too. Then he feels a hand on his head and looks up to see Gloria standing there. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hi. I was feeling left out.”

“Oh. You want something?”

“A kiss.”

She leans down and he moves a hand to hold her face as he presses a kiss to her lips. Both kids immediately start screaming. 

“Mama!”

“Mama kissed Elvis!”

“Elvis loves Mama!”

When they eventually stop just shouting the first thing they think of, Corey looks up at his mom and asks her a serious question. 

“Is Elvis our new daddy?”

Jackie frowns. “What about our real daddy?”

“Elvis is real!”

Gloria has been thinking about this a lot. She didn’t have to kiss Elvis in front of them, but she had. And now she could make something up that would be easier for them to understand than the truth. But she wants them to understand that life is complicated sometimes, so she decides to talk to them about it.

“Hey. Shush for a minute,” she tells them, waiting for quiet before she continues. “I want to explain this to you. Are you going to listen?”

They both grumble but they sigh and nod and try to listen even as they continue to squirm on Elvis’ lap. 

“Yes Mama.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.” She looks down at their upturned, expectant faces and swallows. “Yes, I love Elvis. And… I think he loves me.” She pauses there and looks at him briefly. She doesn’t want to put words in his mouth. 

“Of course I do, honey,” he replies, craning his neck to stare up at her like he’s the third kid, sitting there and waiting for an explanation. 

She smiles, another of those smiles that stays on her lips and doesn’t reach her eyes. She knows she’s about to say something he won’t want to hear, and part of her wonders if his birthday is the worst possible time to do this. But she’s started now. 

The kids are still looking up at her, rapt. 

“But Elvis lives in Memphis, and we live in San Francisco. And your daddy lives in San Francisco too, and he loves you both a lot. So even though Elvis and I love each other, we can’t live together, because I’d be taking you away from your daddy and that wouldn’t be fair. And Elvis has a very busy life, you both know that. He has to travel all over the country, singing to people.”

“We could go with him?” Jackie suggests, hopefully. 

“You have school, and you know that too.”

Jackie sighs and looks down at the floor sadly. Corey looks sad too. He thinks for a while and then looks up again at his mother, with a face full of hope. 

“Can we visit though? I want to visit! I love Daddy Elvis! Mama! Please!” He’s shouting by the end, and punctuating his speech with exasperated slaps of his hands to Elvis’ belly. Elvis winces, but makes no attempt to stop him. 

Gloria starts to feel her resolve failing in the face of her begging child. She also feels her belief that this was the best course of action starting to falter too. She shouldn’t have kissed him in front of her children. This is not turning out the way she had hoped, although why she thought two small children could deal with such complicated emotions without yelling she’s not sure. 

“Corey, please. I know you’re having a lot of big feelings right now, but you can’t take them out on Elvis. C’mere.”

She picks him up and holds him in her arms and he groans and then bursts into tears. 

“It’s not fair!”

No, Gloria thinks, it really isn’t fair. 

“Son, I think if your mama says it’s okay, I would love ta have ya all here. But only if she says it’s okay.” Elvis clenches his jaw, briefly gritting his teeth before he says the next part. “Your daddy needs ta see ya both too.”

Corey moves his head from where it’s been hanging over Gloria’s shoulder to right in front of her face, and puts a hand on either cheek. “PLEASE MAMA!” Tears streak his face, bright red from all the crying. 

“Shhh. I… we could probably visit…” she replies, feeling almost defeated at this point. 

Corey yells “YAY!” directly in her face and throws his arms around her neck. She strokes his back, absent-mindedly trying to soothe him. Then she looks down at Jackie, still on Elvis’ lap, noticing the sad expression on her face. 

“Jackie?” She asks. The little girl looks up. “What’s wrong?”

For such a small girl she manages a very big sigh in response. Elvis cuddles her close to him and repeats Gloria’s question. “What’sa matter, honey?”

“What about real daddy?” She finally asks, quietly. “He’ll be sad if we’re here all the time.”

“We won’t be here all the time,” Gloria explains, patiently. “We’ll just come sometimes, in the holidays.”

Jackie frowns for a while and then her face sort of flattens back out again. “Oh. Okay then.”

There’s a silence and Gloria starts to think this might be the end of the complicated conversation and she might be able to get this birthday celebration back on track. She carefully puts Corey back down and strokes the top of his head, leaning over to do the same to Jackie. 

Her sister has been watching the whole scene with some interest, and decides maybe now is her time to chip in and give Gloria and Elvis a little time without the children. 

“Come on you two, let’s see if we can find some food, shall we?” She looks down at Elvis. “So long as that’s okay by Elvis, anyway. It is his house, after all.”

Elvis smiles, picking Jackie up off his lap and placing her carefully on her feet, before standing up himself. “Sure is, honey.”

Gloria is relieved to see them go, and grateful to her sister for taking them. That whole situation had been emotionally exhausting. She looks over at Elvis, expecting him to have something to say about it, half-wondering if it will cause a row. 

He moves close to her, then pulls her into his arms, wrapping her in a big hug. “It’s okay, honey,” is all he says, and he feels her whole body relax. 

He kisses the top of her head. It hurts, to know that she doesn’t think there’s a future for them. That they won’t all live together. Of course it does. But she’s here now, and he doesn’t want to spoil the time he has with her. Or the time he has with Corey and Jackie. He’s grown attached to them almost immediately, and he wants them to stay as long as possible, Gloria too. For once he keeps his impulse to anger and upset in check. 

***

The rest of the day passes in a busy and happy blur. Priscilla drops Lisa-Marie off, and various other Memphis Mafia members appear with wifes and children throughout the day. There’s only a little drinking, but there’s a lot of food and, most importantly where the kids are concerned, there’s a big cake. Elvis doesn’t care so much about the cake, or the presents that people have bought him (he likes them, but they’re never quite right), or even everyone singing happy birthday. But he loves his friends being here, and that the house is full of life, children laughing and crying, adults telling stories, singing and even a bit of dancing. Graceland is truly alive with activity in a way it hasn’t been for a long time. And he has Gloria to thank for that. He makes a mental note to thank her properly later. 

***

Gloria tucks the kids in, explaining for at least the third time what to do and where to go if they wake up worried in the middle of the night. Jackie is almost asleep already, not interested in irrelevant information as she’s slept through since she was a baby, but Corey keeps asking and worrying about it being too dark in the room without a nightlight. Wondering what’s taking so long, Elvis walks down the corridor to the room and pokes his head in. 

“Daddy Elvis!” Corey exclaims, in a way that is really not conducive to sleep. 

“What’re ya still doin’ awake, son?” Elvis asks, his voice low and soft as he comes into the room to kneel down next to the bed beside Gloria. 

Corey frowns. “It’s too dark.”

“He doesn’t have his nightlight,” Gloria says, by way of explanation. 

“Oh. Hang on a minute.”

Elvis disappears, then reappears a few minutes later with a ladybug nightlight. “Here ya go. Got a bunch for Yisa.”

He plugs it in and Corey exclaims again with joy, holding his arms out wide for a hug. Elvis leans into it with a smile. Then he walks over to the other bed and gives Jackie a kiss goodnight, not wanting her to feel left out. Remembering the way she pouted earlier, when she had less attention from him, being quieter and less demanding than her brother. 

Finally Elvis and Gloria manage to leave the room, switching the light off and closing the door softly behind them. They walk back to Elvis’ room in silence, and then when they get inside she sits down on the bed with an exhausted sigh. 

“Oh my god. Thank you for getting that light. I thought he’d never let me leave.”

Elvis sits down next to her and puts an arm around her, pulling her against him. “They’re gorgeous honey. A pair a great kids.”

She laughs against his shoulder. “You want them?”

He grins. “Only if I can have you too. You’re incredible, Glory.”

“Hmmm. Thanks,” she mumbles into his jacket, blushing at the compliment. 

“I mean it. Lookin’ after those two, makin’ them into such good kids. After everythin’ that happened with Roger…”

She puts an arm around his waist. “Thanks. That means a lot, El.”

“An’ everythin’ you’ve done fer me. Would’ve been locked up in here on my own today if it wasn’t for you. Yer so special, Glory.”

Gloria can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes at his kind words. “I hope you had a good birthday,” she sniffs. 

He pats his lap expectantly and she shifts to straddle him, a stray tear escaping down her cheek. It’s been a tiring, emotional day. 

“I had a wonderful day, thank you.”

His hands cup her face gently. 

“Even after what I said to the kids?”

“Even after that.”

“I love you, Elvis.”

“I love you too, baby. C’mon. Let’s get ready for bed.”

He gently wipes the tear from her face with his thumb, then helps her off his lap again. They curl up together in bed in pyjamas, her hand on his belly. She’d seen the newspapers in the trash this morning with headlines like “Elvis, Fat and Forty,” and her heart had broken a little. She likes the extra weight on him, always has. Her nose presses against his sideburn and it tickles her a little. She kisses along his jaw, thinking this is the most relaxed she’s been with him since their time on Clambake. The least pressed for time. 

“I can stay, if you want?” She says, suddenly. “For the rest of the week. The kids will have to go back in a couple of days for school, but I could stay. Pat said she’d look after them for a while… I’d have to check but I’m pretty sure she’d be okay with it.”

His head turns quickly. “For the rest of the week?” He’s not expecting it and he can feel his throat closing up with emotion. It’s been so long since he’s been able to spend this much time with her. 

“If…if you want.”

“I can’t believe you have to ask that, Glory. Of course I want.”

She smiles. :”That’s settled, then. If Pat tries to say no you can give her a Cadillac.”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @argangelbornxoxo @presleyhearted @lvrdollep

[multi-fandom-imagine]

✨𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 || Fred Weasley ||

A/n: AU where Fred survived the Battle Of Hogwarts

Warnings: insecurity of scars (reader has scars due to the battle of Hogwarts due to saving Fred )

It was a quiet afternoon in the flat, and you were sitting on the floor in the living room, folding laundry while Rosie your toddler sat nearby, playing with her stuffed animals. The twins had been particularly energetic that day, but the calming hum of home had finally settled them down.

Rosie, her auburn curls bouncing as she toddled over, sat cross-legged beside her mother, clutching a plush dragon. As you reached up to adjust your sleeve, the fabric slipped down your arm, revealing faint scars that crisscrossed your skin—small reminders of the Battle of Hogwarts and your brave decision to protect Fred.

Rosie’s sharp little eyes caught the glimpse of the scars, and she gasped, her face lighting up with wonder. “Mummy!” she chirped, pointing at your arm. “You got stars!”

You blinked in surprise, looking down at your daughter. “What was that, love?”

Rosie reached out gently, her tiny fingers hovering over the faint marks. “Stars! Wike da conste constay-lay-tions Daddy show us!”"

You felt your breath hitch, your heart swelling with emotion as her daughter giggled, her excitement bubbling over. “Stars, Mummy! So pwetty!”

As you blinked away a few stray tears.Fred, who had been watching the scene from the doorway with a curious smile, walked over and knelt beside them. “What’s this about stars?” he asked, ruffling Rosie’s curls.

Rosie turned to him, beaming as she pointed at your scars. “Mummy got stars! Wike da sky!”

Fred’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand instinctively resting on your shoulder. “You’re right, Rosie. They do look like constellations, don’t they? Beautiful ones.”

Adverting your gaze, you tugged the sleeve back down. “You two are ridiculous,” you muttered, though your smile betrayed your affection.

Fred gently took your hand, giving it a squeeze. “She’s not wrong, Bee. Every mark tells a story, and yours are the most beautiful stories I’ve ever known.”

Rosie tilted her head, her brow furrowing in concentration. “Mummy, you a hewo?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What makes you say that, Rosie?”

“Daddy say stars tell stories!” Rosie said matter-of-factly, leaning against you as her lite fingers grasped your skirt. “Your stars got pwetty stories, wike Daddy’s big book.” Leo, Rosie's brother who had toddled over to see what the fuss about nodded his head.

"Ya!ya!" Leo giggles happily agreeing as Fred scooped him in his arms.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, pulling your daughter into a hug. “You’re too sweet, Rosie. Maybe one day, I’ll tell you all those stories.”

Fred kissed the top of your head, his voice low and full of love. “And I’ll make sure they know just how much of a hero their mum really is.”

As you hugged Rosie tighter, you glanced at Fred, your heart full. “You better not exaggerate.”

Fred winked. “Never. Well, maybe a little.”

Rosie giggled, patting your arm. “Stars, Mummy. So pwetty.”

"So pwetty" Leo reached out for you, a soft laugh escaping your lips now hugging both of your children close.

And in that moment, you realized that even the parts of you, you had once been unsure of were seen as something beautiful through the innocent eyes of your children.

[cuteniaarts]

What a shame… you always had such beautiful hair

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Mobster

Chicago - 1931 The Height of Prohibition The mafia is earning top dollar smuggling alcohol into the country. And one mobster has his eye on you.

Yandere! Mobster who's a made man, who drives a nice car even after the stock market crash forced most people to sell theirs.

Yandere! Mobster who wears a tailored suit and fedora, his black hair swept back. Who everyone in the neighbourhood says is a good guy, a decent man, even if he does work for the don.

Yandere! Mobster who pulls up next to you when you're walking home from work. It's late and clouds are scudding across the moon.

Yandere! Mobster who leans out his window and offers to drive you home. Who says these streets ain't safe for a pretty girl like you.

Yandere! Mobster who's known you since you were children. Two kids from immigrant families, playing together in the tiny bits of open space your apartments could offer.

Yandere! Mobster who keeps looking at you and marvelling at how grown up you both are. Where did that scruffy little girl go? And when did you get so pretty?

Yandere! Mobster who spends the whole drive chatting about old times. Who makes you laugh at his stories about running from the landlady and stashing his school books behind the canteen.

Yandere! Mobster who leans over you and pulls the door closed when you move to get out. Who looks you dead in the eye when he asks if you're having trouble with your rent.

The mob is a big part of the community afterall, and he knows just about everything.

You drop your eyes, embarrassed. Your brothers have their own families to care for, you say. Things are hard but if you pick up a few more shifts at the factory, you might manage it.

Yandere! Mobster who sighs and digs in his suit pocket. Who pulls out a stack of cash and counts it right in front you.

Yandere! Mobster who offers you enough for two months of rent. A small fortune to someone from your part of town.

You shake your head, horrified. You can't afford the interest, you tell him.

Yandere! Mobster who scoffs and asks if you really think he's offering a loan when you've known each other for years? It's a gift, to keep your mama out of the cold.

Yandere! Mobster who smiles at the hesitant way you accept the money. You're too proud to ever ask for help and he knows it. Just like when you were kids.

Yandere! Mobster who gets out and opens the car door for you like a gentleman, even if he knows the whole apartment building will talk about it.

Yandere! Mobster who grins that charming, good guy smile even though he has a gun holstered under his jacket and a shovel in the trunk. Who says he'll consider things even if you cook him dinner some time.

Yandere! Mobster who visits your ma while you're at work. Who tells her he's interested in you and wants her blessing. And your ma is all too happy to give it. He's such a good boy, she says, and she knows he's always had a soft spot for you.

Yandere! Mobster who insists on driving you home after work everyday. Even when you blush and complain that he's going out of his way.

Yandere! Mobster who gratefully accepts the gifts you offer him. Fresh baked bread, jars of your mama's famous marinara sauce, homecooked meals... Who eats so much better when you take care of him.

Yandere! Mobster who eventually runs out of luck and straight into trouble. What was supposed to be a routine whiskey delivery turns out to be a sting operation.

Yandere! Mobster who sees his partner get a hole blasted right through him and almost die. Who fires at the cops until his tommy gun is red hot and smoking. Who ends up with so much blood on his hands he ain't sure it will ever wash off.

Yandere! Mobster who finds himself at your door afterwards, his coat drenched by the rain.

Yandere! Mobster who doesn't resist when you pull him inside and strip away his jacket and shirt. There's blood on your hands after you hang up his coat, and you pretend not to notice it.

Yandere! Mobster who can see your curiosity fighting against your sense. In the end, you don't ask him a single question about it.

Yandere! Mobster who sinks gratefully into the bath you draw for him. And who falls asleep the second his head hits your pillow.

Yandere! Mobster who's gone by morning. His bloodstained coat gone with him.

Yandere! Mobster who asks around about you and finds out you've got a whole score of fellas vying for your hand.

Yandere! Mobster who let's it be known that he's interested in you and watches with satisfaction as all your potential suitors drop away.

Except for one. He just spits and says you're a grown woman and can choose your own man.

Yandere! Mobster and his buddies pick the guy up after a late shift. Tie his hands behind his back and gag him before they toss him in the trunk.

Yandere! Mobster who beats the shit out of him. Who breaks his nose with a knuckle duster and his ribs with a crowbar. Who grabs his hair with bloody fingers and hisses that you're off limits.

Yandere! Mobster whose buddies lounge against the warehouse wall and smoke, never bothering to question what a simple dock worker did to deserve such a brutal beating.

Yandere! Mobster who sniffs your hair when you hug him. He's like a dog - always making sure other men haven't left their scent on you.

Yandere! Mobster who let's his hands wander when he takes you out dancing. Who kisses you goodnight and let's his lips brush your neck before he pulls away.

Yandere! Mobster who goes home and jerks off to you, his teeth bared and head bent forward. Who snarls at you to take it, take it like a good girl.

Yandere! Mobster who tells his don about you - how pretty you are, how clever, how discreet. The man leans back in his chair and pulls on his cigar.

She'll never make a liar of you. You should marry her just for that.

Yandere! Mobster who shows up at your door a week later, an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket.

Be my girl. And I promise I'll take care of you.

You think about the night he came to you covered in blood and not speaking a word. You think about your friend from the docks and the way he dissappeared. You think about the way people look away when you're with him in public.

You say yes, as though you have a choice.

[agxxb]

Prettier Than a Star .𖥔 ݁ ˖

rafe cameron x f!reader

summary: when rafe finds you alone, you finally get to know one another.

warnings: smut. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (f!receiving). use of pet names (baby, sweetheart). praise. underage drinking. best friend’s brother. [5k]

read part two here!

“You’re not supposed to be out here. It’s off-limits to guests.” You turned around in surprise upon hearing a new voice, only relaxing after seeing the familiar face. “Ah, it’s just you.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side, surprised to see you standing on one of Tanneyhill’s many balconies — but it was a pleasant surprise. He didn’t smile, but his expression softened just a little.

“Sorry, Rafe,” you apologised, a small yet sheepish smile on your face. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you, let alone your friend’s older brother. You just wanted peace and quiet away from the jamboree happening below.

Rafe walked over with a hand in his jeans’ pocket, the other holding a beer. He turned and leaned against the rails beside you. “Didn’t expect to see you at my party.”

“Sarah invited me,” you explained, a short shrug following as you took a deep breath through your nose. “She kinda left me alone as soon as she saw her boyfriend, and I got overwhelmed with the party. This was the only place I knew no one would be.”

Rafe chuckled lightly. “Sounds like Sarah.” He shook his head. He couldn’t lie and say he was surprised Sarah had ditched you. “What? Can’t handle a little party?” he asked, clearly teasing you.

“I can.” You shot him a look, but still grinned. “Just not when people I don’t know are shoving unknown drinks into my face.”

He smirked, taking a quick swig of beer from the bottle. “Hey, those are the best kind of drinks. Free alcohol is good alcohol.” He glanced over at you as he spoke. “You should’ve just come found me when Sarah ditched you.”

“Free drinks are the best, but not when there’s a possibility of them being spiked,” You gave him another small smile before shrugging. “And, in all honesty, I didn’t even think you liked me enough to talk to me. You’ve only ever spoken to me when Sarah’s been there.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered, and his expression softened ever-so-slightly. “Why wouldn’t I like you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side again, looking at you. “You’re one of the few people that Sarah hangs out with that I don’t want to throw into a wall the moment I see them,” he added, giving a scoff of a laugh.

You smiled at Rafe’s words, letting out a short chuckle. He kept his gaze on you for a moment more, something almost thoughtful crossing his face before he looked out to the front grounds of the house.

The night sky was vast, the stars glimmering above. The sea breeze was cool and fresh against your skin, and the sounds from the party down below were just low enough to be a distant rumble. It was nice and peaceful.

“I’ve always adored the island,” you said after a short while of silence, following his eye-line to admire the view: the sea in the far back, the beautiful sunset just above the sea line, and the houses in the close distance.

Rafe looked away from the view, to you, listening to you. He’d never really paid much attention to how beautiful the island really was. The night was nice, though; even he could admit that. He thought about making a snide comment about the view – that it’d be prettier with a joint or drug to enhance it – but didn’t. Instead, he just nodded.

“It is nice,” he agreed, taking another swig of the beer in his hand.

He turned to lean against the railing once more, his side now facing you. He raised the bottle to his lips, tilting his head back as he took a healthy sip, enjoying the taste of it. It went quiet again, and he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He watched as you kept your gaze on the sky, and you looked almost mesmerised.

It was almost like you were in a trance, the way you just watched the stars above. The sight was honestly rather fascinating to Rafe; He’d never seen anyone just stare into space. He continued to watch you though, and found himself almost studying how captivated you were by the stars, like there was some sort of peace in that moment.

“You like the stars?” Rafe heard himself ask, his voice low and casual as he looked upwards as well.

“Oh, I adore them…” Your eyes twinkled whilst the stars blinked. You smiled, a small one, but it was filled with admiration and fascination.

Rafe listened intently, watching as the soft smile appeared on your face, and he found himself feeling a sense of curiosity. “Why?”

“Because it’s all unknown. It’s scary, but also so cool.”

Rafe hummed lowly, and he found he actually agreed a bit with what you said. The stars and sky were definitely a little scary, but the unknown always was. And yet, it was interesting, too.

He went silent for a few moments, the alcohol in his system making him more relaxed and a bit less guarded. He felt more open, like he could say things he wouldn’t normally say, and that was why he spoke again after a moment of silence. “Want some?”

You looked over at Rafe, seeing him tilting his beer in your direction. You accepted his offer with a smile, taking the glass bottle from his hold and bringing it up to your mouth, wrapping your lips around the top and tilting your head back.

Rafe watched your actions, licking his lips as his thoughts spiralled. He found his eyes trailing over your face, lingering on your eyes, and then your lips, which looked soft and full. The alcohol he had consumed had made his thoughts fuzzy, and he suddenly found himself imagining something else instead of the beer bottle.

The thoughts of how you looked and the soft tone of your voice made his mind wander, imagining what sounds you might make in other situations.

"What’re you doing?" you teased, biting your bottom lip and moving slightly closer to Rafe. You had noticed him staring, scanning your body and – possibly –admiring you.

Rafe knew he had been caught looking at you, and he didn't even know what to say when you moved closer. He tried to keep his composure, though he found his eyes straying once more as he noticed a glimpse of your collarbone.

"I'm enjoying the view.”

"Yeah?" You lightly blushed, cheeks turning a pink champagne, and smiled up at him. "Enjoying it, hm?"

Rafe was captivated as you smiled at him, and his breath hitched as he watched you take another sip of his beer. It was more than a little attractive, and he found his thoughts getting muddled again, his mind wandering to places it had no business going.

"Yeah," he answered simply, his voice coming out deep and rough as he shrugged.

He tried to look away, but he found himself looking at you again, eyes drifting from your collarbone and over the swell of your chest. He knew he was being obvious with his staring, but he couldn't help it. He found himself admiring you, the soft curves and slopes of your body, the shape of your hips. Even though you were still standing a few inches apart, he was suddenly aware of how close you were, and he wanted you to be closer.

“Just admiring?” you wondered aloud, almost hinting at the fact you wanted him to do more.

Rafe briefly wondered what would happen if he reached out and touched you, to feel his hands on your skin. It would probably be so soft, he bet. He could smell the sweet scent of your perfume, and it was like an invitation to him.

His eyes flicked back up to your lips when you bit your bottom one, and he found himself wondering what they would feel like against his own. He took a step forward, his boots thudding against the balcony floor, and reached out, his fingers hovering a few inches away from your skin, the tips of his fingers just barely touching your cheek.

Rafe slowly lowered his hand until it connected, gently resting his palm against the soft skin of your cheek. He gently caressed your skin, feeling the softness underneath his fingers as he stroked your cheek. He felt emboldened, and the alcohol in his system made him a more reckless.

“Your hand's warm," you told him, resting your cheek into his palm. You were aware of Rafe's history and his anger issues, but you weren’t scared of him... especially after the way he'd treated you that night. Rafe hummed in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the way his heart flipped at how you leaned into his touch.

He wanted this, wanted to touch you, and he wanted more than that, too... so much more.

"You're soft," Rafe mumbled, his voice rougher than usual, and he let his thumb gently brush against your jawline.

"I am?" you asked, almost shy after hearing him say you were soft. He hummed in response once again, unable to stop himself from gently rubbing his thumb along your skin, slowly, over and over again.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice still sounding rough, and his thumb started to travel down the slope of your neck. "Soft everywhere."

“You haven’t even touched me everywhere.”

Rafe’s eyes snapped up to yours, trying to see if there were any hints of intoxication behind your words. He let his fingers press gently against the underside of your chin, just barely lifting it.

"You like when I touch you?" he asked quietly, the words just slipping from his mouth. You hummed a response, agreeing to his question silently, and a rush of heat flowed through him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The way you almost begged for a kiss made his lips twitch up. His hand slowly moved to the back of your neck as he gently pulled you forward, tilting your chin up. He looked into your eyes as his face hovered close to yours, wanting to make sure you really wanted this. His breath fanned over your face, and he slowly closed the remaining gap to press his lips against yours.

Rafe let himself just hold his lips against yours for a second, just the briefest moment, before he really kissed you. His lips moved against yours, molding themselves to your mouth in a shockingly gentle action.

You moaned softly as your lips moved together, never wanting to stop kissing now you had tasted him. Your hands lifted, placing the beer bottle on the balcony to your right before you touched him: one hand on his torso and the other on the back of his neck, fingers gently scratching at the nape.

At the sound of your soft moan, something inside Rafe snapped. He felt your hands on his skin, the feeling of your fingers scraping against his neck just made him want more, and so he took more by pressing his lips harder against yours.

Rafe quickly wrapped his other arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, and he let his tongue gently slide across your bottom lip. His mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts, filled with just need and want and you. He was vaguely aware of the party going on below, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Rafe groaned and pressed even closer against you, pinning you up against the railing. He let his tongue explore your mouth, tasting you before he raised a hand to your throat once again, tilting your head to the side and away from his. He started gently nibbling and sucking on the skin there, letting his lips travel down over your pulse.

“Fuck,” you moaned quietly, closing your eyes as you basked in the pleasure gained from him kissing your neck. “Rafe…”

He felt a rush of satisfaction at the way you gasped his name, the sound going straight to his already-hardening cock. His lips continued to move along the skin on your neck, sucking and then biting down gently, trying to get more of those sweet sounds out of you.

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” Rafe muttered in a deep grumble against your skin as his free hand started to slowly lift up the edge of your shirt.

He felt another rush of heat flow through him, settling deep in the pit of his stomach, at the breathy sound you made in reply to his praise. He let his fingers slide across the newly-exposed skin of your hip, his warm touch sending shivers through you.

“You gonna let me take you to my room?” he asked huskily, pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes again.

“Is that what you want?” you asked him with a soft grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. You tilted his head to the side, littering kissing up and down the column of his neck.

Rafe groaned as he gave you more access to his neck, pressing lower-half against you, and his fingers dug into your hips. He was already so hard, just from the way you sounded and the feel of your lips. He felt like his brain was completely clouded over now, and he couldn’t think of anything except you.

You hummed, lightly nipping at his neck and smiling softly as you heard Rafe let out a sound, like a moan had been caught in his throat. You pulled the collar of his shirt to the side, sucking at the skin between his neck and shoulder, leaving a mark and soothing over it with your tongue.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Rafe groaned again, the feeling of your tongue making him shiver. He took a shuddering breath as he tried to force himself to think clearly, but all he could really think about was your mouth on his skin.

Feeling how hard he was against your lower stomach, you pulled back to bite your lower lip. “You wanna take me into your room, Rafe? Wanna have your way and do whatever you want to me? Make me feel good?”

The teasing tone of your voice had his lust-filled brain short-circuiting. He felt your hand press against his hard length and he gritted his teeth, your hand moving up to slide over his abs, feeling his muscles tense.

“You keep doing that, and I won’t be able to make it to my room,” his voice was low and gravelly as he spoke.

“Yeah, pretty boy?”

He grunted as he felt an unexpected rush of heat at the nickname, and length twitched against your stomach. “Keep it up, and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“What if that’s what I want?” you whispered into his ear, leaving another peck against his cheek.

Rafe quickly turned his face to capture your lips with his own, the kiss anything but slow or gentle. He tried to pour all of his need into it, pushing his tongue into your mouth and hungrily tasting you. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin, and he began to move his mouth down over your jaw.

“Take me inside, Rafe. Please.”

He heard the hint of a moan in your voice, and the way you said his name, begging him to take you inside, was almost his undoing. He needed to get you alone, behind a locked door. Now.

Rafe pulled back, looking at you, his eyes dilated and filled with so much lust that it was like he’d completely lost himself in the need for you. “Come with me,” he said, voice raw, and he stepped away, just enough to grab your hand.

He wasted no time in pulling you along with him, hurrying through the balcony doors into the house, barely giving you a second to shut the door behind you before he was pulling you down a hallway and toward his room at the end. Rafe quickly opened his door and pulled you inside, shutting it behind you and locking it.

He pushed you up against the door, trapping you with his body. “Please fuck me,” you begged with a moan, fisting at the fabric of his button-up shirt.

The sound of your soft, pleading moan and your words made his head spin. At that exact moment, he was done trying to control himself. He felt his brain shut down, any higher thought completely gone, and he suddenly all he cared about was getting his hands on you.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside, before his hands almost immediately went to the shirt you were wearing. “Too many clothes,” he whispered thickly, his voice barely more than a rough grumble.

The moment he could see your skin, Rafe’s hands were on you again, touching you, feeling you. He couldn’t help but notice the little shivers you were making when he did. He brought his lips down to your neck once again, leaving more hot, wet kisses. His tongue traced the hollow of your jaw as his hands outlined your body, his touch rougher and greedier with each passing second.

Rafe let his lips move lower, down your neck and over your chest, sucking and kissing, his teeth gently scraping against your skin as he went. He stopped just above the line of your bra, taking it off before looking at you. You looked gorgeous: hair all tousled, marks already forming all over your skin, and breathing heavy.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Rafe muttered almost gruffly, his eyes travelling over your face and down your body.

“Only for you, pretty boy,” you bit your bottom lip, running your fingers over his buzzed head as he knelt down in front of you, his hands on your hips.

He couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at the feeling of your fingers. He felt himself almost entranced by you, your sounds, words, and touch making it so that he didn’t care about anything other than you.

He continued his journey down your body, his lips on your stomach, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses and bites on your skin. His hands started to wander too, touching and exploring, sliding over your legs and moving up the inside of your thighs.

He looked up at you, watching your face as did so, the urge to mark you as his so primal and strong. He continued to kiss the tops of your thighs, leaving another mark behind before slowly making his way up again, closer and closer to the edge of your underwear.

“Fuck… Please.”

“Please what, Sweetheart?” He let his hands slide up your sides to your lower back, hooking his fingers on the edge of your underwear. He started to pull them down, his eyes still looking at you for your reaction. “C’mon… talk to me.”

“Please touch me.” Tears began to form in your’ eyes, but not from upset or pain; you were so turned on and impatient — you needed Rafe to touch you. “I’m so wet for you. Please.”

His own breathing was ragged now, his eyes dilated to the point the blue of them was almost completely gone, only a ring around the edge of his pupils visible. The way you sounded, so desperate and needy, almost had him fucking you against the door.

He brought his head closer to where you needed him, his lips hovering by the skin there for a moment. “How bad do you want me to touch you, baby?”

“So fucking bad, Rafe. Please,” you begged, running a hand over his short hair again. “Please.”

He leaned so that his cheek was resting on your hip, and he let out a low exhale, his breath warm and hot against your skin. “I’m gonna take my time with you,” he murmured, and then his lips were on your skin again, leaving kisses down your hip, towards your center.

It was like he’d suddenly lost all self-control, his need to touch you, to taste you, was so strong that it was pushing him past that edge of self-restraint. He pressed his lips against your core from over your lace panties, his tongue immediately tasting you through the fabric, and he let out a low moan.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He spoke directly against you, his voice gravelly and thick with lust, before slowly hooking his fingers under the lace of your underwear and pulling them down, needing to get them off you so that he could taste you properly.

Rafe’s hands were suddenly firm on your hip as he pushed your legs apart, keeping you open for him to put his mouth on you, his tongue licking and exploring. He was relentless, actions desperate. He felt the way you trembled under his touch, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back for very long, not if he kept hearing those little sounds you were making.

You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back in pleasure and head titling back against his bedroom door. “Fuck! Feels so good, oh my god!”

Rafe loved the way you sounded, the way you reacted to him as he continued to suck on and lick at your clit. But he needed more. He pressed his hands against your hips as he continued with his attention, his tongue more demanding now. He was addicted to the taste of you, not wanting to ever touch another woman nor that he’s had you.

He continued his actions on your clit, finding what made you shiver and moan, what made you melt. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of the sounds you made as he worked you with his mouth, pushing you higher and higher.

Rafe suddenly shifted, his tongue switching to a different angle. He could feel you shaking, getting closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t let up, his hands having moved to your thighs, keeping your legs open as he pressed himself closer, his tongue never slowing down, never stopping.

“Fuck!” you sobbed, the pleasure almost too much but so fucking good. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop. Feels so fucking good.”

Rafe couldn’t possibly stop now, not when you sounded like that, not when you were so close. He could feel how your body was tightening, almost trembling as you got closer. He was so caught up in your sounds, in your taste. He kept his movements at the same speed, not wanting to change anything, and then you were there, falling over the edge. Your legs shook as you came, crying out his name as he lapped you up greedily, still wanting more after tasting you.

Only when you were starting to come down did he stop. Rafe slowly stood up, his mouth still wet and glistening, and looked at you, at the way you were leaning against the door and trying to get your breath back.

You immediately leaned forward to kiss Rafe, your lips meeting his instantly. He felt you melt against his body, and his arms encircled your waist, kissing you almost desperately, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could possibly satisfy him.

Rafe grabbed the back of your thighs and wrapped them around his waist, picking you up and moving you over to his bed, lightly dropping you onto the mattress before crawling over you. He loomed over you on the bed, his hands on either side of you. He could feel how you were looking at him, your eyes raking over his bare chest and the bulge in his pants, almost like you couldn't decide where to look first. It was driving him crazy. He felt like his skin was on fire, and he needed you to touch him, wanted to feel your hands on him.

“Please fuck me,” you quietly begged, looking up at him through your lashes. He leaned back, hands moving to his belt as he unbuckled it before sliding it through the loops of his jeans, taking them and his underwear off next.

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly, raising an eyebrow. “You want that?” He looked down at you hungrily, his eyes taking in the way you looked beneath him. He suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them to either side of your head, trapping you beneath him. “You gonna be good for me if I give you that?” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.

You nodded, silently pleading, begging, Rafe. You were soaked, and not just from when he ate you out moments prior. There was something about hearing him say those words, something about the way his voice sounded, so sweet and dominating, that made pleasure burn through you, making you want him even more.

He gently, almost reverently, released your wrists, his hands roaming over your body instead. “Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough. “That’s my good girl.”

Your hands lifted to rest on his bare back as Rafe smirked, reaching down and lining himself up before pushing forward into your sopping wet pussy. Your eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure, having him fill you to the brim.

"Oh, my god…” Rafe was hypnotised, his fingers grabbing at your hips. He could barely think, his mouth hanging open as his eyes glazed over.

The feeling of you beneath him, around him, was so intense he had to pause for a moment to collect himself. He felt like he was on fire, his body tense, his muscles coiled tight as he held himself above you. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way, this intense, this desperate. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he started to move, his hips rocking against yours, eyes locked on your face.

He could feel your hands on his back, your nails clawing at his skin, and it only turned him on more. “That feel good, baby?” Rafe asked, voice strained with how good you felt.

“S-So good,” you nodded, tears building up in your eyes once again from the pleasure. “So deep.”

“Fuck,” Rafe moaned deeply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Your lips parted as his hips slapped against the backs of your thighs. It left you feeling dumb, no thoughts left in your head apart from how pretty Rafe looked above you. “Pussy’s so good.

“Please, please, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look up at him. His own lips parted as he reached his hands up, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he stared as your tits in awe. “Just like that — keep fucking me like that.”

Rafe could feel every little gasp, every moan, every whimper you made, and it was driving him crazy. You were making him feel things he didn’t know he could feel, and he was lost in you. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, could feel himself losing control, and he knew he couldn’t hold back for much longer.

He suddenly leaned down, his face just inches away from yours, and pressed his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavy, his breath mingling with yours, his heart racing. He was hanging on by a thread, fighting the urge to let go, but he wanted to see you fall apart for him first.

Rafe suddenly slid his hand down your body, his thumb finding your clit and quickly rubbing it. You moaned loudly, nails scratching down his back and leaving red marks in their wake.

“F-fuck!” you cried, the pleasure consuming you. Rafe sped up, going harder and rougher, his own hand coming up to wrap around your neck, adding a little pressure — just the way you liked it. He loved the sound of your voice, the way it changed as he touched you, the way it got higher and more desperate as you got closer to the edge.

He couldn’t hold back a low moan of his own, keeping his hand on your neck as he sent harsh thrusts up into you, your pussy squelching with each one.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Let me hear how good you feel.” He suddenly grabbed your hip, using it as leverage as he started to move rougher, his body tensing up. He was so close, so close to losing control, but he wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. He suddenly leaned down again, his mouth right next to your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Cum for me, baby.”

“O-Oh, my God!” you moaned loudly, barely able to say anything other than that and his name.

He knew you were close, could feel it in your body, and he felt his own body tense up in response. ”That’s it, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick and low. “That’s it. Let go for me.”

“Rafe!” you screamed his name as you came, legs shaking around his waist with your head thrown back against his bed. He felt you tighten around him, felt your nails digging into his skin, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Gonna cum so fuckin' deep in you,” Rafe mumbled, letting go of your neck and running purely on primal instincts now. “Gonna take it all like my good girl, yeah?”

“Uh huh," you whined, tits bouncing as he continued to fuck himself deeper into you. “Please cum in me!”

“Prettier than any fucking star.” Rafe grabbed ahold of your hips, grinding his hips deep into yours a few more times, before coming to a stop. He came hard, his body tensing up as he buried his face into your neck, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm.

You felt full as his cum filled you up, letting out a hum of content. Rafe couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lay there, his body weighing you down, face pressed into your neck. He was breathing heavily, his body still shaking from the intensity of his release, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this good, this wrecked, this satisfied.

He suddenly lifted his head up, eyes locking on yours immediately, his face flushed. “You… are amazing.”

[ddejavvu]

Cant stop thinking about Logan bending Wades darling little sister (in her 20s) over the kitchen table while Waded out on a mission. That is all I can think about right now

Insatiable - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. age gap (legal; reader is in her 20's, logan is like... 200 years old.), wilson!reader, dirty talk, slight breeding mentioned

The only reason you're able to do it in the kitchen is because Wade isn't home, and you'd managed to shut the door on his pathetically endearing little dog. Mary Puppins is probably tearing up Wade's poor excuse for a comforter right now, and Logan is tearing up- well.

You.

Your pussy.

You're bent so far over the counter that your tits are cold, your nipples stiff and sensitive against the countertop. The pressure against them hurts, or maybe it's a lack of other stimulation against them- either way, they're stinging and you wish to right yourself and tug mercilessly at them.

But Logan's weight- not the full load, or you'd be crushed - is holding you down, your hands scrabbling uselessly at the smooth counter for purchase that you'll never find as you're rocked steadily into the cabinets below.

Logan's cock is buried so deep inside of you that you're not sure he'll ever get it out again, but then he does, and then he thrusts back in and you're hit all over again with a sense of shit, I didn't know I went that deep. He's found your limit, stretched your cunt to the breaking point with his impressive length, and his facial hair tickles the side of your face as he takes your cunt from behind.

Your face smacks painfully against the cabinets over the counter and Logan reaches a hand up to cover your forehead, "Shit, be careful. Head down, honey, there you go. Wouldn't want Big Brother finding an imprint of your face in the wood."

"Whaddya think he'd say?" Logan's suddenly snickering, a gruff delight to his voice as he rams his cock inside you once more, thrusting at a steady, merciless pace, "Shit, if he knew my old ass had his sweet little sister pinned up against the counter..."

Wade would kill him. Or try valiantly to, as it's been established before by Wade's best efforts that Logan is one difficult motherfucker to kill. But you don't fancy a bloodbath even if the vessel will survive, so you tuck yourself tight to the counter so that you won't have to explain to Wade why the cupboard door is off its hinges.

Leaning forwards more only pushes your ass out further, and Logan groans, dick twitching, as he's able to thrust more viciously beneath the curve of your ass. He's humping you like a dog, a depraved pace set as he chases an impending orgasm.

"Taking you in your brother's house- aagh, shit," Logan grunts, nose nudging against the back of your neck as he inhales your sweat, "God he's gonna drop his swords on this fucking counter as soon as he walks through the door, not- not even gonna know your tits were smashed up against it. He's gonna get coke from that cabinet in an hour," Logan's voice is strained, moreso the faster he pumps his hips, and all you can do is cry out as he ravages your cunt, "He's never gonna know I made his sister cream up against it. Never gonna know I fucked my fuckin' babies into you here, aah- agh-I-!"

Logan bites, hard against your shoulder, catching some of your neck in the process and introducing yet another blindingly painful sensation that turns into sick, twisted pleasure between your legs. Your cunt is spent, barely capable of another orgasm after you'd already had two fucked out of you before, but it gives you its best shot as Logan's thick, warm cum gushes into you, immediately too much for your poor pussy to handle as it drips down your thighs instead.

Logan relinquishes your shoulder with a low groan, his breath coming hot and heavy as he pants, "You alright?"

"Yeah," You whimper, legs shaking as Logan holds you steady, "I- I don't think I can stand anymore."

"That's okay." Logan hums, gentler now that he's fucked himself calm. He peels you off of the counter, supporting your body weight as he half-walks, half-drags you down the hallway towards his bedroom, "Next round's on my bed, sweetheart. You won't need to move a muscle."

[katsukistofu]

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x teacher! fem reader. fluff. ⭑ he keeps staring. the kids notice.

In your five years of teaching, you never thought you’d see Dynamight sitting cross-legged on the daisy shaped carpet in the center of your classroom, while your kids swarm around him to paint his face.

Warmth spreads across your chest as you take it all in. It’s quite the sight, to see the big, buff, seasoned twenty five year old pro hero letting all these tiny toddlers take turns taking clumsy swipes at his face with the colorful paints you bought for them the week before for art class.

What you don’t notice is the way his eyes trail to you wherever you are in the classroom. When you move to open the windows to let the fresh air in, to wipe the chalkboard, even when you’re organizing the mess of crayons on your desk into their rightful bins.

“Why do you keep staring at our teacher?” One of them, a little boy wearing his t-shirt backwards, curiously pipes up. Everyone else nods in agreement, they’ve been wondering the exact same thing.

“You gonna tell her what I said when I leave later?” Katsuki raises a brow. A chorus of playful noooo’s follow him.

“We’re gonna tell her while you’re still here!”

These little brats. He’s barely known these kids for two hours and already he knows that they love you like a second mother, and wouldn’t be letting him go so easily. There’s fondness in his eyes as Katsuki chuckles and leans in, and the kids eagerly lean in to hear what he has to say.

“I’m starin’ cause she’s pretty.”

Gasps and nods of agreement spread across the carpet just as you clap your hands together, your sweet voice ringing through the classroom, to which everyone, including Katsuki with his paint bedazzled face, turns to give you their fullest attention.

“Alright my angels, let’s give Mr. Dynamight some space now okay?”

Curious little eyes glance back and forth between you and Dynamight with, when someone loudly pipes up, “Ms. L/n doesn’t have a boyfriend!”

“Mr. Dynamight thinks you’re pretty!”

“He stares at you like the way my brother stares at ice cream!”

“Hey I was going to say that!”

Bickering ensues across the carpet and you simply gape at them as a hint of a smirk appears on Katsuki’s face.

Should we tell them after class? He mouths in your direction.

No, you mouth back, covering a giggle behind your hand at the continued chaos of your kids behind your boyfriend.

A little homework never hurt anyone.

[verxca]

Imagine Jason being so soft and sweet and clingy with you that when his siblings see him in a store with you they have to do a double take. It would be extra funny if his family didn't know about you yet xD

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #04 ]

[ j. todd ft d. grayson ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which dick spots something very unusual from his brother at the grocery store.

Late night grocery trips were preferable to Dick for two primary reasons; One, being as the stores were usually less busy, meaning less people would spot him. And two, crime was typically preformed at night here in Gotham, meaning he could keep an extra eye out. It was like killing three birds with one stone!

Turning the corner, Dick hummed a random tune to himself upon entering another produce isle. He was just here to pick up some cereal and butter, nothing too important. As he leaned down to grab what he needed, a friendly couple entered the isle from the other side— giggling and holding hands.

Not wanting to seem nosy or rude, he didn’t stare, still scanning to find the brand he liked.

“Nope- All they do is knock shit over, claw your back, and piss all over the fucking furniture.” The guys voice from across the aisle sounded familiar, a little too familiar— almost like his brother Jason’s. But he ruled that one out quickly… It was obvious that the dude and Jay acted completely different. Though, the mysterious guy did sound like one of his old friends from high school. Maybe it was him— Damn, how long had it been? What a coincidence to see him here!

Dick looked up— fully expecting to run into an old friend. Yet, the realization of his mistake came crashing down like a punch to the gut as the boyfriend moved his face into view, eyes still glued down to his girl. Oh, it was Jason! What was he doing here at this hour? Dick chuckled, looking back down before snapping his neck up for maybe the fourth time.

Wait— that was Jason?

“But, like- Same for dogs! You have to walk them twenty times a week, and pick up their shit too. No animals are easy to care for, but cats are definitely easier!” You argued with your boyfriend, squeezing his hand to try and enforce your point.

You two had been dating for a good couple months now, but still, Jay was ever so reluctant to get an animal! Every time you brought it up, he’d make the same five points. “Kay- That’s fair, babe, but-”

Jay teased once more, laughing as you tried to protest. Fuck, was it ever cute when you got all defensive like that. It was definitely Jason’s guilty pleasure, and he couldn’t help but tease you when the opportunity was in front of him— practically begging to be taken. Jay quickly leaned down for quick kiss, hands moving to your waist. He hadn’t even realized the two of you weren’t alone in the aisle, nor that the other person here was his brother.

You couldn’t help but just melt into your boyfriend’s touch as he kissed you— moving his lips down your jaw and neck. Your hands steadied on his abdomen, as he lavished your collar in desperate affection.

“Holy fuck.”

Dick was completely in shock. Jason was not only acting clingy with someone— completely vulnerable and desperate, but was also with a god forsaken secret girlfriend he had never told anyone about! It showed in the way he kissed the girl’s neck, and in the way he held her tight, that Jay was in love. But still, was this all some fucking witchcraft? How in gods name did someone get him to open up and act all lovey-dovey like that?

He didn’t know what to do, but sure as hell didn’t want to get caught. Dick slipped out of the asile, your collective giggles still faintly audible as he entered the parallel row. He was debating on taking a photo or not… but he didn’t want to invade the girl’s privacy.

Instead, he made a mental note of the encounter, checking out and leaving, already picturing the faces of his family when he’d bring it up at the next dinner.