#both of these characters have felt like they were second best and its just been so special to me to watch them in this arc

[felassan]

David Gaider on Fenris, under a cut for length:

"Fenris. Now, DA2 is a story all on its own but I'm not going to go there other than to sum it up as "we had just over a year and a half to make this". It's why I only wrote one follower, Fenris, and although it'll make his fans mad: I probably shouldn't have. Let me explain. The way we'd approach making the followers is brainstorming a list of concepts covering first the array of gameplay classes (and sub-classes) and then making sure they each have some skin in the game when it came to the story's conflicts - ideally having characters on both sides of the major ones. Why? You can't make a player care about the world, but you can make them care about characters who care about the world. It's the easiest way to provide hooks into a conflict, outside of it knocking on the player's door. Heck, it's probably better than that. Players will burn the world for approval. After that, we'd decide things like romances/sexuality. Then the writers would pick who they'd write. I always let my writers pick first. I figured they do their best work when it's something they're inspired to write... and they got so few chances at ownership, I wanted to give it whenever I could It's why I (reluctantly) let Patrick wrest Cole from my grasp in DAI, a character I'd created in Asunder. It's also why I let Jennifer take Anders in DA2, who I'd started in Awakening. In this instance, it meant I was left with the angry elven warrior character who nobody else appeared to want."

"It should have been my first clue that something was up. The second was how the artists had zero clue what to do with him. The art concepts were all over the place - from mages to crows to... well, even weirder. No matter how hard I tried to explain the idea, the artists simply didn't seem to get it Does this mean he was a bad character? Not exactly. Just an idea that probably deserved some re-examining. You can tell when an idea has a certain spark, and part of that is being easy to communicate. Sadly, there wasn't time for any re-examining even if it'd occurred to me. And it didn't, not yet. If it had, if I had time, maybe I'd have re-booted him as a templar. Someone pro-templar rather than anti-mage, who could give a personal hook into Meredith and give the templars some badly-needed humanity. But this falls into the shoulda-woulda-coulda category. I had a follower to write. Quickly. I struggled, at first. It was hard to get away from "Fenris hates everything, all the time". It felt very one-note, and I didn't know where to take him. My third clue, I guess. I also wasn't sure if I was the right person to write a former slave. I did know that couldn't be the center of his story. I did know trauma, however. How it can eat you up. How the hate and resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. How it can infect your relationships. Fenris's trauma isn't my trauma, obviously, but here I dipped into a more personal part of myself than I'd ever done before."

"It gave me the center of his story I was missing, but wow was it uncomfortable. In a good way, maybe. I likely wouldn't have, if I hadn't been so desperate. In a way, I think DA2 had some of our best writing *because* of the timeline. It was raw, with little time to sand down the interesting parts. I wouldn't have done the "Fenris doesn't talk to you for three years" thing if I'd known we were going to cut all the reactivity initially planned for the time jumps. When that call was made, I campaigned to cut the jumps to a year, but there was no time for the revisions it'd need. So, um. Awkward. I used to get asked where the name came from, and I... don't remember? Obviously it's derived from Fenrir, but I don't recall why we picked that. Someone pointed at Fenris the Feared from Joe Abercrombie's books... and I did read them, so maybe the name lodged in my head? Wouldn't be the first time. Casting Fenris turned out to be easy. He was the first time I requested a specific VA and got him. (The other times were Merrill and then Solas, my two "I want these specific Welsh actors, please".) Why? OK, if you must know, I'd played a bit of Final Fantasy XII. I heard Balthier. "Yes, that." 😅 And Gideon Emery was a delight, as it turned out. Consummate professional, and that lovely gravel in his voice... good god. Bite the knuckles. There was a struggle to find the voice at the outset where I did my best not to say "just pls do Balthier" but he found Fenris on his own and it was amazing. Overall, Fenris turned out better than he had any right to, considering the rocky start. He had a lot of soul, a vulnerability forged by pain that struck a chord with a lot of players, and I'm glad. Do I regret anything? Probably having him live in a corpse-filled mansion that would never update. That's a hindsight thing, though, as again the cut to reactivity over the time jumps came late. Outside of that, maybe letting the player give him back to Danarius? Poor shock value and a waste of resources because almost nobody took the option. Good evil options are ones that are tempting to take. And the lyrium tattoos. Interesting concept, but they're probably why you'll never see Fenris in a future DA. He requires a custom body, and the tattoos make that expensive. It's why I put Fenris in my 4th DA novel - the cancelled one. Don't fret, though. He died in it, so this way he lives on. 😉"

[source thread]

User: "Wait wait how does he die in [the cancelled novel]??" David Gaider: "Gloriously, after taking up a cause he didn't believe in at first but then made his own, one that allowed him to rediscover what it meant to be elven." [source] David Gaider: "I’m not sorry about the novel cancellation. I’m the one who cancelled it. I am kinda sad we couldn’t make it work, though. Considering it was after I left the DA team, it would have been my final DA hurrah." [source] David Gaider: "From my perspective, it was kind of "well if you're never going to use him again, let me at least give him a proper send off" and the story required a glorious death... but I get that's not the story his biggest fans would want (which is Hawke + Fenris 4ever), so it's just as well." [source]

User: "You all did some incredible work with such a tight deadline" David Gaider: "I'm of the opinion that even if we'd had only another six months to bake, DA2 would be remembered as a classic and not either a flawed gem or underbaked sequel, depending on who you ask." [source]

[moofshroom]

this scene is so important to me because post-school mystery mitsuba has just had his main motivations as to be a person, be someone with an identity. hes a whole different entity from mitsuba the og but hes trying so hard to emulate that sense of humanity and this scene is so integral to that because its this exchange of, “you care for me like im a person and not just a jumbled mess of somebody else’s memories” and kou’s reaction to that and realizing this and i just.... guys im not okay

[satorusugurugurl]

Feverish

Summary: When preparing for your annual Halloween party, you realize you forgot to take your heat suppressants. Thank god your Alpha boyfriends are always there for you!

Characters Alpha!Gojo Satoru x Omega!AFAB!Reader x Alpha!Geto Suguru

Word Count: 1.9K

Warning: ABO!AU, alpha/omegas, heat, sex unprotected sex, DP in the puss, praise, language, cream pies, Double knots 😏

A/N: Kinktoner Day 28: Omegaverse! This is short because holy shit ive been super busy!

It was hot, which was strange since the autumn air was crisp, causing steam to rise with every breath you took. You grimaced, readjusting the shopping bags in your hands as you hurried down the sidewalk. The last thing you needed was to be getting sick; there was far too much to do still. Seeing as your Halloween party was in the next three hours.

You would just pop some ibuprofen and start working on snacks and decorating. You pushed open the door to your apartment, huffing out a sigh as the smell of mint and clean linen permeated through the small space. The scents of your two best friends and boyfriend drowned out the smell of the autumn candles you had lit, making you feel even hotter.

“I’m back,” you announced in a slightly breathless voice as you hurried into the kitchen, placing the bags on the counter.

“Hey!” Satoru said as he eyed a small carving pumpkin. “Welcome back!” He closed one perfect cerulean eye before humming in thought. “Hey, how does this look?” He turned the pumpkin towards you, a proud smile on his face.

Satoru and Suguru had been tasked with setting up the snacks you had prepared. That included pulling out the chips, candy, and cookies you had made. Satoru had carved a face similar to the vomiting emoji of the small pumpkin and conveniently placed the guacamole in front of its mouth. You smiled, feeling sweat beading on your forehead as you smiled, fanning yourself as you shrugged out of your sweater.

“Looks good, Toru.” You could feel the heat in your cheeks, but you tried to ignore it, washing your hands in the sink. “What’s Suguru up to?”

Earthy music wafts through the kitchen, the smell only making you slightly dizzy. “I just finished setting up the projector; we’re all set.”

“Mmm, thanks, you two.” You whispered, leaning slightly over the sink. “I appreciate it.”

Your stuttering had both men straightening as they shared a look before focusing back on you.

“You good?” Satoru asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Y-Yeah, I’m just feeling a little hot.”

A cool palm pressed against your hand, and you shuddered at the feeling of skin on you. “You feel hot like you have a fever.” Violet and cerulean eyes took you in as you learned against them, taking a deep breath to ease your nerves.

“I’m okay.”

But the smell of you, sweet and tantalizing, overtook both men. They sniffed the air, deep growls vibrating in their chests as they pulled away to eye you. They saw it when they really took the chance to look you up and down. Your cheeks darkened in color, and your chest rose and fell with quick breaths.

“Our poor omega~.” Satoru calmly began, his hands rubbing at your shoulders.

“Someone forgot to take her heat suppressant.” Suguru finished, pressing his lips against your temple, his hands groping your ass.

They were right; you forgot to take your medication this morning. You had been in such a hurry. It was the furthest thing from your mind. There was no going back, though; you had forgotten to take it, and now you would have to live with the consequences of your actions, which sucked royally.

Your boyfriend began moving without being told to. Satoru pulled his phone out and started dialing numbers on the screen. Suguru swooped you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom. Even through the pounding of your heart in your ears, you could hear Satoru apologizing to your friends, telling them that your party would have to be rescheduled. You felt a little bad about it, but the second Suguru tossed a couple of their hoodies at you, you began purring instantly.

“Sweet Princess,” Suguru whispered, watching as you cuddled both their hoodies close to you before it began to construct your nest. “Do you want us to give you some time to yourself?”

“No~ need you, Alpha, I need you both.”

Suguru reached out, pulling your scent patch away from your glands. The sweet, almost sugary he sent flooded the bedroom, overpowering their scents. You purred, watching as Suguru’s jaw clenched as he tried desperately to hold himself back, only for Satoru to come in, tossing the phone onto the bed, completely forgotten. You smelt utterly delectable, and neither wanted to waste any time.

“Mhmm~ you look so sexy.”

“God I want to taste you.”

The Both joined you on the bed, kissing you at the same time their mouse on yours as their hands trained and groped your body which held molten heat making you cry out with every single gentle graze. You purred kissing them both at the same time before they shared the kiss together, making you whimper softly as their hands continued working at you taking off your clothes holding you tight.

And taste you they did. They kissed every inch of your body, making you arch off the bed in your makeshift nest. They took turns licking your tripping pussy, tongues, ding out flicking over the sensitive buds before they alternated between the two of them. Suguru was much more gentle, drawing out the sweetest of cries from you. While Satoru was addicted to taste his tongue swirling over you, laughing at your inner walls until you were shaking withering mess. Then to make matters even better they would kiss each other all for your entertainment and their enjoyment.

But they didn’t stop there.

No kisses moved all over your body up the dips of your hips over your tummy that they absolutely adored before they both took one of your breasts and hand, squeezing massaging it before taking your nipple into their mouths. They grazed over the sensitive stiff peak with their tongues, and their sharp elongated canines scraped over it. The Sensation had you arching your back off, the mattress, your hands gripping the shirts that Suguru had tossed to you.

God You were so fucking lucky. Not only were you blessed with two of the strongest alphas you had ever known, but also spoiled rotten. They Saw you as an equal, and didn’t use you just for their pleasure. They got off on you getting off. So even though you had forgotten to take your heat suppressant this morning, they were going to make the most of this very rare opportunity.

“It’s my turn to grind, Satoru, you can go first.”

Your head was hot as you watched your boyfriends intently. “You sure?” Satoru asked as they both got into position laying you on the side so Suguru could lay down behind you spooning you, while Satoru took the front.

“Yes.”

You sighed softly as you looked between the two of them as Satoru slowly began sliding inside of your dripping cunt. Hearing them share you, making your amazing relationship work made you so wet. "Holy fuck~ why the fuck are you both so hot." You questioned before you wrapped your arms around Satoru's neck. "You noth feel so good~ so warm and thick."

Satoru groaned softly, gripping you tight to his body before kissing you deeply. While Suguru was suddenly pressed behind you, his thick cock teasing your entrance before continuing to rub against your ass.

"You're so pretty, Princess, you're so fucking hot."

You shivered under all of the kisses the duo plated on you. Feel Satoru pushing further inside your pussy. While Suguru rubbed up against you. Longing to be inside your pussy, too, god, it sent you into a frenzy of whimpers as you tried grinding back against Suguru in an almost encouraging way. Deciding you didn't just want one of them inside of you.

You wanted both.

"M-Nnngh~" you finally pulled away from Satoru, panting for air. "Fuck me too, Sugu~ please!!" Satoru showered, pausing his hips for a second so you could talk to Suguru over your bite-ridden skin.

"You want me to fuck you too?" He hummed against your sensitive skin. “Where?”

You reached around, pressing the head of hiscock right against Satoru’s slicked-up cock. "Here." Both your boyfriends shuddered as Suguru groaned deep in your ear. He didn't question what you wanted, he just slowly slid into your pussy. It was so unbelievably tight, but you were so wet, it made it easier for him to rub his cock up and down over Satoru's with a hiss.

“Oh my fuck!” Satoru barked out, his cock rubbing against Suguru inside the amazing woman between them. "Sh-Shit—!! S-Suguru-Sweetheart!” Your eyes were wide as the two men filled your cunt up with their cocks. It felt so good to have both of them inside of your cunt. The sensation was so good it left you whining, looking at Satoru while your hand reached around and gripped the back of Suguru's head. "Fuck me, Alphas! Please fuck me like you mean it, please."

They both hurriedly agreed before thrusting into you, both of them moaning around you, filling your room with sounds of sex. After hours of countless orgasms and sex, the room now reeked of sex, which was making your heat all that more enjoyable. Their scents the pleasure; all of it had you screaming out in pleasure as they both fucked you. You had lost count of how many times you had cummed. Your eyes flickered between blue and lilac. It wasn't until the tenth orgasm crept up on you that you got

"Alphas~ I-I want you to cum inside me." your breasts pressed against Satoru's chest as you leaned your head back on Suguru, why attempting to close your legs. They were both panting against your skin, their cocks throbbing from overuse but ready to burst.

"Omega, yes fuck--" Satoru growled before biting down on your neck, piercing your scent glands, Just as Suguru followed Satoru’s lead biting down on your other scent gland with a predatory growl

“Sweet Omega, cum with us~!” Suguru gripped your hips, his hips speeding back up.

Their sweet words, desperation, and the need to feel your come undone had you cunning hard. "C-Cumming!" You shouted, your eyes rolled back into your skull as you squirted and convulsed around the two of them.

"Nnngh-fuck!"

“Ooh fuck!! Good girl!!

Satoru and Suguru both barked out grunts of pleasure. Before, they were biting purr scent, glad and complex as Suguru had. Both of them force their cum and their knots into you while kissing and sucking on your neck.

"F-Fuck-Never cum that hard-" Suguru whispered in your ear, his hands moving down to massage your surely aching thighs.

“Me neither~” Satoru hummed, resting his head against the pillow.

You didn't respond; you were too busy shaking. “Princess? You okay?” Suguru questioned with a slight quirk of his brow. “Or did we give you a real treat?” They both listened closely as you whispered something.

“What was that, Sweetheart?”

“Again.”

Your single word had both your boyfriends stiffening in shock. They shared a look before Satoru scoffed and laughed softly. Suguru joined him, nuzzling your neck.

“That was cute—”

“Yeah, you had us for—nngh!” both men hissed as you rolled your hips.

“Again.” You repeated in a more severe and stern voice.

They laughed and gulped down their nervous laugh. “Yes, Omega~,” They said, voices shaky as they continued to give you what you wanted, and when you finally were satisfied, they both lay there next to you, panting heavily. A sight that would make anyone wonder who got the trick and who got the treat!

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[reiderwriter]

Hello there baby, are your parents bakers? Cause you're a cutie pie lol sorry couldn't resist the urge to flirt with my favorite writer💕How have you been? How was your day? I wish you a wonderful day and a lovely night💕

It's my first time here sending an ask but lately I've been thinking about shy!Spencer x flirty!reader, I just think is such a cute couple.

So if you're taking requests, I was thinking about early seasons Spencer completely falling for the reader and the way she's so flirty but sweet and kind, the way he'd be blushing hard at anything she says and how he'd like the way she's always touching him cause he felt cherised and desired.

It could be fluff or smut or both cause I can picture them going slow with the relationship but Spencer being eager to please her and show how much he loves everything about her.

You said about choosing a emoji, so can I be the 🐇anon?

A/N: Thanks for the request! Shy Spencer is the best because he's so dumb and silly and doesn't realize when people are attracted to him. I've said it before, but he's basically every nerdy main character in 00s romcoms that are "unattractive" because they wear glasses. I hope you enjoy the fic~♡

Warnings: mentions of case details, slight spoilers for upto s5

With a degree in law and a deep-rooted hatred of businessmen, you'd certainly found your calling in one of the FBI White Collar divisions. Putting away the sleazy bastards was easily one of the biggest perks of the job, but every coin had a second side, and yours was you actually had to interact with the cretins before you could take them down. 

You'd dealt with bribes, dinner invites, and sexual propositions more than a time or two, and had to remind yourself that kicking anyone of them clean in the balls was most likely a firing offense, if not legally off the table. 

The man in the case you were currently working - possibly Bill Hodges, possibly Daniel Brady, possibly so many more men - had been a typical white collar freak until he'd moved on to murder. And when you'd been so close to nailing his ass for fraud, too. 

You'd had no choice but to call in whatever unit it was that actually got to put bullets in the bastards, sure that you were going to be strong-armed out of months of work for the glory of taking down a spree killer. 

Instead, you got Spencer Reid, delivered freshly to your desk like a lamb to slaughter. 

“Sorry, you're the agent from the BAU?” You asked, raking your eyes across his body, smiling at his obvious discomfort with the attention. 

“Yes, Doctor Reid. I'm here for more information on the Hodges files.” 

You dusted your skirt off as you stood, moving around the desk to grab the file. You held it out to him but pulled it back when he reached for it.

“I'm sorry, you're really in the BAU?” An embarrassed look fell across his face, and you instantly felt shitty. 

“Do you want to see my credentials?” 

“No, I'm sorry, it's just - I wasn't expecting someone so…pretty?” 

The embarrassed look deepened to a flush, and you brightened at the sight. You weren't lying. He really was pretty, and you hoped your comment hadn't come off as patronizing. 

“You're adorable. Here's the file, I’ll be at your team briefing in half an hour. Spencer, right?” 

He nodded, finally waking up and taking the files as you pushed it against his chest, using the movement to step slightly closer. 

“I'll see you later then,” you trailed your look down, getting a good look at all of him before meeting his eyes again. “Save me a seat?” 

“I should… I'll, uh, go now. Thanks for the-” he stammered, pointing to the file, backing out of your space slowly, like an animal trying not to show its back to a predator. 

Unlike the long line of scumbags filling the halls and case files of your floor, Spencer was without bravado or ego. His lack of both meant that you were interested. You were very interested. 

Half an hour later, you practically sprinted to the 6th floor, bouncing up the stairs to the office where you'd take your meeting like a giddy school girl. 

“Hello, sorry, I'm not late, am I?” You asked, quietly opening the door and letting yourself in. 

“Agent Y/N, no, perfect timing, Penelope was just about to brief us on your case,” Hotch said, rising and giving your hand a firm shake. He looked around to find a seat to usher you into, but you quickly dropped yourself into the seat right beside Spencer Reid, grin deepening as he flushed and offered you an awkward yet endearing smile. 

Unconsciously, you shifted closer, shooting him your own smile before the meeting officially began, and you were forced to keep a straight, serious face. 

The entire case progressed in much the same way, with you doing everything you could to fluster Spencer Reid and him doing everything in his power to convince himself you were being friendly. 

“Spencer, do you have a phone number?” You asked after slipping out of the meeting, trailing him back to his desk. 

“Yeah, we have to keep connected for cases, so I have a phone.” 

“Great. Your number - what is it?” 

He rattled off the digital as you scribbled them down on a notepad. 

“And Hotch's number is-” 

“Oh, I won't need that. Thanks, Spencer.” You said waving as you left to slink back to your desk. You could hear him calling out behind you, confused. 

“Y/N… Y/N, we split up on cases often, if there's an incident and you need to contact us it's better to have all of the team members numbers,” he panted, jogging to catch up with your focused pace. 

“If I need to contact you, I'll take myself to Agent Garcia’s office and use her direct line,” you said, finally stopping yourself at the elevator and pressing the button. 

He caught up, and stopped abruptly next to you. 

“Oh… oh, yeah that's… that's efficient.” 

You stepped onto the elevator when it arrived, leaving Spencer hesitating whether or not to climb in himself, desperately wondering why you'd ask for his number then. 

“Goodbye, Doctor Reid,” you said, pressing the door close button and blowing him a kiss just before the doors blocked you from sight. 

To tell the truth, you'd had a lot of fun flirting with Spencer on the phone from Penelope’s office during the case. The woman was an inspiration, even if her flirting had a completely different purpose and meaning than your own. Her friendship with Derek Morgan was admirable, but you didn't want to be friends with Spencer Reid. 

“Hello, handsome, what can I do for you today?” You asked, picking up the phone and basking in the stammers that answered you down the line. 

“D-Do you need me to get Morgan for you?” He said, his voice treading lightly. 

“Unless Derek Morgan has, overnight, managed to turn into a 6’1 Doctor with a penchant for cardigans and leather satchels and an IQ of 187, then I am absolutely not looking for him. I have case details.” 

He brushed past your comment, but he kept the slight stammer through the conversation, right until you signed off. 

“Until next time, sexy.”

“Um, yeah… thanks…beautiful?” he signed off, and you guffawed in laughter even as Penelope stared wide-eyed in your direction, not believing her ears. 

“Please forgive our little test tube genius. We forgot to add flirting skills to his childhood curriculum, and now, alas, the poor thing doesn't know a damn thing.” 

He'd called back a few hours later, and you'd purred more compliments down the line, but this time with the team surrounding him as they closed in on your unsub. 

“Hello, this is beautiful speaking. How may I help you?” You giggled down the line, picking up the call after only a single ring. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, catching his breath awkwardly as he struggled to remember why it was you were needed. 

“So… um, like… Hotch has a question about the files you sent earlier. He needs Penelope to… do something as well.” 

You could almost see the awkward nod through the phone. 

“Great. Pass me over to Hotch, then, hot stuff.” 

You heard the tell-tale sound of Derek Morgan’s cackle in the background, and you couldn't help but let another giggle slip out. You were a gonner, and, hopefully, so was he. 

The case wrapped quickly after that, spree killing being a quick game of cat and mouse out of necessity. You weren't happy with three bodies, but it sure as hell was preferable to more. 

You greeted the BAU team at the jet hanger as they returned, reclaiming your fraud files for paperwork and using that simple chore as a reason to get close to Spencer again. 

“Good work out there, Doctor Reid.” 

“What, he's not hot stuff anymore now he's in front of you?” Emily Prentiss laughed, throwing her go bag onto her shoulder and trailing behind where you'd started strolling alongside Spencer. 

“Oh, he's still hot stuff. He's just hot stuff with three PhDs that just stopped a spree killer,” you said, sighing dreamily. “How do you do it?” 

“We were all there too, you know,” the other woman chuckled as you made it inside the building and to the elevator. 

“Yeah, well,” you said, taking a second to reach out and straighten out Spencer's skewed tie, smoothing his jacket and generally just touching him in whatever way you could, respectfully. 

You didn't even bother to finish your sentence, just leaning closer to his ears and whispering directly into them. 

“You're very cute when you're flustered, Doctor Reid.” 

You stepped away for a second while the rest of his team teased him, stepping to the back of the elevator to ascend to your floor while the others departed on theirs. 

They filed out one by one and you sent them off with a smile and a wave, signing in defeat as you realized there was no longer a reason for you to interact with the good doctor ever again. 

If you weren't so stupidly aware of him, you'd almost have missed the fact that Spencer didn't leave the elevator when his teammates did. He instead turned to you and, with the brightest red you'd seen on his face to date, stammered out half a sentence. 

“I.. Y/N, I was just… curious, if you, by any chance…” 

Your eyes widened in joy as you anticipated his question, silently begging him just to spit it out. 

“I was wondering, i-if you had… a boyfriend?” By the end of his sentence, even he seemed unsure of whether that was a question he should really be asking. 

You'd been throwing heart eyes at him for says, and he was asking if you were in a committed relationship. 

“No,” you said slightly breathily, as if your body were trying to expel all the anticipation it had stupidly built up. “No, I don't have a boyfriend, Spencer.”

“Great okay,” he smiled, a boyish grin if you'd ever seen one, before backtracking quickly.

“Well not great for you, great for me. Not that you can't be happy alone, I don't know how you feel about…romantic entanglements and I-I-I’m not saying that your life isn't,” he searched for the words with his hands, as of he could grasp them as a life line while he was sinking fast. “-Great without a boyfriend or anything like that, I'm just - really - pleased that position is currently… vacant?” 

“Spencer?” You said, feeling like a cat who got the cream as a smile twitched at your lips, pulling the corners up as you listened to him ramble. 

“Yes?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend  or are you asking for a friend?” 

You'd meant the words as a joke  but he stood contemplating for a second. You pushed a hand against your mouth to suppress the childish squeal from popping out. 

“It would be a bit presumptuous to shoot straight for boyfriend, right? How about date ....partner?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from closing in on him then, practically cornering him in the elevator as the floors passed you by.

“Presumptuous would be thinking I could have a boyfriend when I've been begging you to stick your tongue down my throat with my eyes for the last half hour. I thought they taught you body language at the BAU?” 

“They teach us how to catch criminals, not how to see when someone is giving us…fuck me eyes, Y/N.” The curse left you a little dizzy - this was it, this was what you'd been trying to do all week, to get under his skin and get him to let his guard down so you could capture him. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm a little scandalized! I didn't know you swore. What a dirty mouth you have.” You reached up with both hands, letting your thumb on his lips before pretending to wipe something away at the corner of his mouth. You were in the perfect position to notice his throat bob as he swallowed.

The elevator pinged at your floor, and you left him behind you with one last swipe of your fingers at his chin. You weren't expecting him to follow, but he did.

“Y/N…please, Y/N…. Can we just…?” You relished the awkwardness in his voice as he trailed you again, a satisfied smile settling onto your face. 

You just kept walking. Or you did until you felt a large hand wrap around your wrist and pull you sideways into the nearest storage cupboard. 

You gasped as he pinned you to the wall, close not, but his eyes still hesitant on what to do next. 

“Spen-” He cut you off with his lips on yours, silencing you before you could get the final word. His lips were clumsy at first, but you felt hot under his touch  arching yourself up into him. His tongue pushed into your mouth as he found his stride, your hands tangling in his hair as you held on for dear life.

This was it. This was what you'd been waiting for. 

Reluctantly, he pulled away, both of you gasping for breath to fill your suddenly empty lungs. 

“Was that….what… you wanted?” He panted, resting his head on yours. 

There were no words. It was what you wanted but now you wanted more, needed more. You settled for a quick nod as your tongue flamed, unable to say anything helpful. 

“Good. Great…” he removed his hands from you and scratched at the back of his neck, putting a more respectful distance between the two of you as he cleared his throat. 

“I'll just-” he pointed to the door and started making his way out. You sighed again, watching him walk away down the hall, his hair a mess, his tie askew, and a whole lot of your lipstick staining his lips. 

Surely, he'd notice by the time anyone else did. If not, you'd just effectively staked your claim on Doctor Spencer Reid, and you couldn't be happier about it.  

[kykyonthemoon]

Rain On The Way Home

Zayne takes you home after an argument between the two of you.

ಇ. Zayne x Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags & warnings: since there's a bit spicy at the end I shall put 16+, MDNI here, fluff, short and sweet, kiss and make up, making out, argument, hurt/comfort, established relationship, character might be a bit ooc idk.

ಇ. Word count: ~1k9

ಇ. Based on a request by YNhi.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Your lips were pursed tightly. Hands placed on your thighs were clenched so tightly that you could feel the nails digging into your skin. You did your hardest to keep back the tears that threatened to fall, but failed. Warm drops dripped on the back of your hands, and you brushed them away as soon as you noticed a familiar figure approaching from afar.

Zayne opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat. He did not glance at you or say anything. You turned entirely to face the window, observing the soft drizzle fall outside. All you wanted to do was kick the car door open, run out into the rain and scream your lungs out.

The atmosphere between the two of you had never been this stuffy. You could have left alone, but because your body was injured and your emotions were all over the place, you lacked the strength to oppose Zayne's decision. So you let him do anything he wanted. Perhaps that was best for both.

Just a second ago, you fought to reject him and ended up sitting here with bitterness in your heart, allowing him to take you home, allowing him to control you like a puppet again.

The third time you had been hospitalized in one short month, you had also reached Zayne's limit.

People at the hospital claimed that when Dr. Zayne was upset, he became quite frightening. They thought he would explode and anyone unlucky enough to get in his way would suffer. On the contrary, Zayne's rage was like a blizzard on the horizon. You might believe it would not find you, but when it did, no matter where you hid, you would never be secure. 

And that day, for the first time ever, Doctor Zayne was seen losing his usual composure.

His lengthy and fast steps resembled racing through long and busy corridors. The hospital room door opened in such a way that it was about to come off its hinges. Zayne's face solidified. Without a word, he confiscated your medical documents and commanded everyone to go, in such a frightening manner that the nurse caring for you had to shiver from the cold after leaving.

Zayne looked at the documents and then at the wound on your shoulder. It was treated in time but remained painful. The injury had left you quite weak, but after nearly a day of medical care, what distressed you the most was Zayne's attitude.

Before he could say anything, you spoke up and explained:

“It was just an incident… It wasn't like I took the initiative to accept this mission. It's just that there were no other Hunters closer to the attack area than I was…”

“That's why, despite the fact that you hadn't completely recovered and were resting, you hurried to the scene, dismissing your prior injuries. Dismissing your doctor's orders?"

One corner of the file in Zayne's hand was so tight that it became wrinkled when he let go and threw it hard on the nearby table. He turned his back on you and looked out the window. One hand on his hip, the other hand to bury his face. He acted as if he was trying his best to retain the last bit of composure. 

"I'm fine." You said. "I honestly felt no discomfort. I have been able to move properly for a week now. Staying at home constantly is boring. I needed to stretch a little so I could get back to work quickly."

Zayne slowly turned around to look at you. He was still standing in the corner of the room, and you noticed the window glass behind him starting to freeze. 

“You were bored? If you feel bored, call your friends. If you feel bored, go shopping or hang out where you like to go. You were bored so you decided to jump right into a group of Wanderers?"

“Zayne…” You grimaced. “I don't like you this way… You… are acting so strange…”

“Do you think I'd like to see you lying here? Do you think I'd like to see you being carried to the hospital?"

"I'm sorry…" You murmured. You knew it was you to blame for not listening to him and instead running to the scene of the attack. But you were conscious of your own strength and wanted to fulfill the commitment you made when you decided to become a Hunter.

"You've said sorry for the third time this month." Zayne responded. His face was rigid, yet his fists were clasped firmly. "I've heard enough."

"Oh, just quit it!" You abruptly raised your voice. "I told you I didn't like you acting this way. As a Hunter, it's normal for me to get hurt!"

Zayne opened his eyes wide. He was astonished by your response. He stayed silent so you could pour out your feelings.

“I am capable of taking care of myself! I don't like being told what to eat or drink. I don't like being told what time I must  go to bed. Or being compelled to stay at home even though I have completely recovered and ready to battle! I'm not a child for you to order around, or tell me to do this and that!”

“You're saying, I'm too controlling over you?”

“I…” You halted. It seemed that was true. Even while you knew Zayne had good intentions and genuinely cared for you, you were unable to avoid feeling as if he was in charge of every part of your life, controlling every meal and sleep. 

"Understood."

Silence permeated the hospital room for a long moment. Zayne gazed at you as if he was considering something, then he started to pack up your clothes and belongings that remained in the room.

“What are you doing?” 

Zayne responded: “I don't want to be the one who controls you. You will be discharged from the hospital and free to do as you please.”

“What do you mean by that?” Free? It sounded like he did not care about you anymore. It sounded like he was going to give you your freedom back by not getting involved in anything related to you anymore.

“I will not force you to stay here. No one can do that. In roughly ten minutes, someone will come and take you to my car. I only ask you to do this for me once more.”

Having said that, Zayne turned and left. The door closed behind his broad back and you swore you were about to cry right from that moment.

The nurse came to inform you that Dr. Zayne had directly requested your discharge from the hospital. They let you go since your situation was not too serious and they believed Zayne would care for you discreetly at home. Zayne waited for you in the parking lot. He unlocked the door for you to enter first and returned to fetch a few more medical supplies before driving you home.  

All along the way, you kept wondering if you had made a big mistake. You were exceptionally disrespectful and became frustrated with Zayne for no reason. However, he did not give in to you as he always did. Confused, you simply wanted to lie down on your pleasant mattress at home and weep loudly. However, as the car came to a halt in front of your flat, Zayne refused to let you get out.

You turned to look at him. He looked exhausted and miserable. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, then your eyes met for a moment. You were the first to break that connection.

"I'm home now. Can I leave yet? Or do I still have to wait for your permission?"

"Just stay a little more." Zayne's deep voice rang out. He was considerably more relaxed now than he had been previously. "I'm sorry…"

That was the first time you had heard an apology from him. How strange! Usually, you were the one making trouble, and Zayne was the one who looked after you. You were the one who said sorry. Hearing those words coming out of his mouth made you feel so odd.

“I'm sorry if I become too controlling and that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

You were astonished for a second. You still wanted to weep, but your emotions had settled down considerably.

Zayne slipped his hand down from the steering wheel to seize yours and turned it over. He said:

“When I saw you almost unconscious from the poison, being carried into the hospital room, my heart seemed to stop beating. That is not something I want to see at all.”

Zayne's eyes were quite sorrowful. You subconsciously imagined that if you switched roles and the injured person was him, you definitely would not be able to remain calm in such a situation.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Zayne continued. “But I still want to help you do that and protect you. In my own way.”

After he finished speaking, there was a moment of calmness. The street lights were illuminated, and the rain stopped pouring. You softly clutched his hand.

“I'm sorry too, because what I said was not true… I didn't mean to call you a dictator who controls this relationship…”

You smiled at him. The corners of Zayne's lips also loosened somewhat. He took your hand and tenderly pressed a kiss on.

“I'm really okay.” You added. “The doctor also said that the poison from the Wanderers had been purified. I don't feel too much pain anymore."

Zayne gave a slight nod. He understood this from the moment he read your record. That was why he boldly asked for you to be discharged from the hospital. Even though he was upset, your safety would come first in any case.

"You said you were fine?" Zayne inquired out of the blue. "How do you prove it then?"

You exhaled. After all, he still had reservations about your ability to care for yourself. You leaned in to offer him a passionate kiss. The resentment in your heart melted away in his warmth.

As your lips withdrew from Zayne's, he whispered:

"Good enough. However, in the future, if there is an issue between us, or if you are dissatisfied with something I do,... can I trust you to talk to me directly about it?"

You gave a modest nod. Zayne kissed you, deep. He caressed you but only so gently, as if afraid that you would melt into rain bubbles if he became too greedy. A while later, perhaps since your head was hazy from the injury, you had no clue how you ended up sitting on top of Zayne in the driver's seat, your lips locked with him while your hands constantly touching his flesh underneath the shirt. His delicate but searing kisses fell on your shoulder, around the bandaged area that had just been revealed to his sight as he pulled your shirt down. He kissed your wounds, new and old. He asked softly, would you feel pain if he touched them? And you replied that there was only pain if he did not do so.

Rain began pouring again; it might last all night long. How convenient, since he did not intend to let you get out of the car in such a condition.

[talaok]

i loved the hickey fic🥵

can i request a role reversal fic?

reader marks up joel and is unashamed about it

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

a/n: thank you love, hope you'll like this although its been so long you probably forgot about this. and if you're interested, this is the fic they were referring to

It was just you and Ellie in the kitchen this morning. You were laughing about another funny dream she had last night, this one involving Joel trying to tame a gigantic sheep so he could ride it or something, she didn't quite remember the purpose, not that it mattered.

But as you both quite literally felt on the verge of tears from the image the dream was painting in your minds, the main character of said dream, appeared in the doorway, throwing you both a dirty look as if watching two of the three people he loved the most in this entire world didn't fill his old heart with pure joy.

"It's too early to be this chipper" he grumbled, walking to you to leave a quick kiss on your cheek as he reached for the coffee pot behind you.

A gasp sounded from the other sound of the counter

"oh my god what happened to your neck?!" 

And it was then, that Joel Miller, the unafraid, stone-cold killer of a man that he was, turned red from hairline to neck.

"O-Oh fuck I-" His eyes widened, his hand going to cover your work on his neck, but it was all useless, because the second Ellie's eyes landed on the smirk plastered on your face, she knew.

"oh my god ew" she groaned, rolling her eyes, her focus going back to the eggs on her plate.

"You remember Janine, that woman I told you about?" you explained, talking to her

She laughed at that, remembering your conversation about that woman who's always flirting with Joel.

"you filled Joel's neck with hickeys because of her?"

Joel wasn't even red anymore, he was turning purple, his eyes were wider than a deer's caught in the headlights, and you suspected he hadn't taken a breath since he first entered the kitchen.

"this..." you smiled, trailing your fingers on Joel's neck "is my own little way of telling her to keep her hands off my man"

Joel choked, he literally choked on his own saliva and just then, just when he was about to have a heart attack, Tommy entered the house, his eyes immediately going to the image before him with more than a little amusement.

"What have I walked into?" he grinned, walking over to the kitchen "And why does my brother look a breath away from exploding?" he laughed, his hands gesturing to Joel.

"y/n here was giving me way too much information that I certainly didn't want to know" Ellie explained, looking at you pointedly for the last part of her sentence, making you chuckle.

"About what?" Tommy asked

"About the work of art I left on your brother's neck"

"wha-Ohhh" he breathed, smiling like a smug bastard as he understood what you were talking about "Janine tried something again I presume?" 

"You presume right" you smiled, giving Joel a little kiss on the cheek and stifling a smile at how terrified he seemed "for the last time"

"You ok baby?" you asked, stroking his cheek

His gaze was on Ellie, his mouth parted in shock.

"You still with us man?" she asked, giggling softly, making him shake his head to try and get his mind to start working again.

And then, then the words came tumbling off his tongue, filled with what sounded like pure panic

"S-since when do you know what a hickey is!?"

Everyone in the room except him laughed, but when the shock on his features persisted, and Ellie regained her composure, she answered.

"I'm not a kid Joel, I know what sex is"

Another pang to his poor heart, 

he felt all the organs inside him twist into a knot

what the fuck was happening?

Did she just say-

"sex!?" he cried, looking a second away from having a mental breakdown "I-I never said sex- H-how do you even know- I- You- You're too young- I-I"

"ok ok ok" you tried your best not to chuckle, intervening before his heart really decided to stop "How 'bout we go outside for a moment huh? Take a few deep breaths? How about that?" you murmured, soothingly drawing circles on his back 

He looked at you then, looking every bit as disheveled as he sounded 

"y-yeah" he swallowed thickly, "I-I think that's a good idea"

He looked back at Ellie for a moment to make sure this wasn't a nightmare and he didn't just make that up, before you both left the room.

And as if on cue, the second you did, Tommy and Ellie started laughing like maniacs.

"I don't think I've ever seen him so scared" Ellie laughed, as Tommy sat next to her, patting her back

"Neither have I" he chuckled, none of them saying anything before an idea came to his mind.

a hell of a funny one

"ten bucks if you tell him you know what porn is"

[the-thing-withfeathers]

exceeded caution part 3

promise to keep

series masterlist | previous part | next part

a/n: okayyyy part 3 y’all here u go

pairing: ex!tara carpenter x f!reader into sam carpenter x f!reader

warnings: violence (stabbing), character deaths, blood, mention of ambulances, mention of car accidents, mention of past injuries. 3.6k words.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you had just been attacked. now was not the time to be thinking of sam carpenter's smile. or her eyes. or her tan skin and dark hair and her smile, her smile, her smile—

ding! a text. you looked over at your phone.

or her.

“thank you for the other day.” her message notification popped up on your screen. “you didn’t have to stand up for tara and i.”

“it’s okay, sam.” you replied at the speed of light. “i’m sure you and tara didn’t need any more of that. you’re already burdened with so much.”

“let me say thank you.” she sent and paused for a second, the three dots moving erratically as she typed. “dinner? just the two of us?”

“is that safe?” you questioned. you knew it was probably best that you both stayed indoors.

“it’ll just be at my place, tara’s staying at the twins’ tonight.” oh.

you felt like a dirty criminal. tara was your ex-girlfriend. you two were trying to be friends again, would this sabotage everything? if you were to pursue your feelings towards her sister?

but you couldn’t say no, you wanted to dip your toes in freezing cold water.

“okay. i’m down for that. what time do you want me to be there?”

or jump straight in.

“see you at six.”

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you knocked on the apartment door at exactly five past six. you realised you were a little late but you wanted to dress nice and look presentable.

the door creaked open, a cautious action by sam.

“hey...” she said, smiling now that she realised it was you.

“i should put a peephole on your door.” you chuckled softly, “maybe you’d be a little less nervous to answer.” you entered the apartment with your hands in your pockets.

she returned your laughter and nodded. “that would honestly help a lot, i think i should look into that.”

“or look out of it.” you joked, nudging her slightly. she rolled her eyes at you but couldn’t stop the smile that grazed her face.

“that was terrible.” she said, making her way to the kitchen.

“i know. but it made you smile.” you tried your hand at being a flirt, you didn’t know how it settled with her as she was facing away from you. but she didn’t stop you.

she turned back around, holding a pasta bake in her hands. “come on, let’s eat.” she jerked her head towards the dinner table.

you followed behind her and moved a chopping board closer to her so she could put the hot baking dish down.

“this smells amazing, sam.” you inhaled its aroma. “i’m really sad i missed your cooking week.”

“hey, we’re making up for it now.” she shrugged, grabbing a spatula to create a portion for you and serve it up on a plate. “here.”

“thanks.” you squeezed her shoulder when she handed it to you.

“yeah.” she whispered just under her breath as a response. she portioned some for herself and sat at the head of the table. you were sat just to her left. you found the seating to her intimate, it was better than her sitting across from you.

and yet, it was too far away.

you waited for her to start eating before you did.

“oh! did you want something to drink?” she asked suddenly, putting her fork down and standing up.

“sure. what do you have?” you turned around to watch her walk to the kitchen.

“i was gonna offer wine. or just alcohol in general.” she suggested, opening the cupboard that held it.

“sure. i’ll drink what you’re drinking.” you nodded, taking another bite of the pasta.

she came back a few seconds later with two wine glasses. you took one from her hand and sipped carefully. you weren’t exactly a wine person but you could appreciate the dose of alcohol.

“oh! this is good.” you commented, surprising yourself.

“it was like 20 dollars.” sam shrugged it off. “but it’s good, i do like it.”

“i’ll have to pick it up one day.” you put the glass down on its coaster.

you two ate quietly for a few minutes then sam broke the silence.

“how are you doing?” sam stopped poking at her food to ask the question.

“i’m… i dunno, actually.” you found that honestly was a pattern you stuck to with sam. she was always honest with you about how she felt and you never held back in returning the favor. “i never thought i’d find myself in a predicament like this— i don’t think anyone expects it, really.”

“you’re right, yeah.” she nods at you while taking another bite. “i wanted to call you and check in on you but tara has been busy trying to do schoolwork so i figured you were doing the same amount of work.”

“i am, yeah. i don’t know how she can focus so well though— i’m having trouble.” you confessed. “i’d never been the studious type anyways.”

“really?” sam raised her eyebrows at you. “you seem studious. like school work comes easy to you.”

your face slowly started to turn hot at the compliment. you hoped the concealer you had on was enough to hide it.

“well, i like school. it’s the assignments that get me. i like sitting in class and learning, but when it comes to writing 5000 word papers? that’s a different story.” you leaned back in your chair a little to sip your wine.

“fair enough.” sam chuckled softly. “although, i’d love to read 5000 words if they came from your mind.”

flirting?! was she flirting?!

what could you even say back to that? you often forgot that you were just dating sam’s younger sister. the forgotten thought was clouded by the fact that maybe you had chosen the wrong carpenter in the first place.

“oh… i’m sure you wouldn’t…” you stuttered out, talking over your food as an effort to hide your shy tone.

“i’m sure you’ve got an interesting mind.” sam leaned a little closer to you.

“you’re too kind, sam.” you sighed out.

“you are too.” she retorted back. “kindness is rare nowadays, i’ve been lucky enough to find it in you.”

her words were like string. wrapping around your heart and clenching it. samantha carpenter was getting to you. you felt your stomach drop when she spoke to you.

and yet, it felt so sinful.

“anyways—“ she cut through the silence. “i’m grateful you stayed with us even after the attack.”

“i dunno… i mean… i can’t say it was a new feeling, being so close to dying. but it was fucking terrifying trying to run away from someone with the intention of killing me.” you said. it almost felt too casual, the way you dropped that information on her.

“close to dying?” she asked.

“yeah. i was in a nasty car accident when i was a kid. i almost didn’t make it out, i was actually the last one rescued because they didn’t see me in the backseat.” you hadn’t told many people this story, but it felt like you’d told it a million times with sam.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry.” she suddenly reached for your hand and wrapped hers around it.

the contact felt hot. like heat was radiating off her skin and meeting yours. it felt like sparks igniting so aggressively that you felt you might explode.

sinner. sinful. sinful sinner.

“its okay.” you said, looking away as an effort to hide your embarrassment. your eyes met her empty plate and you moved to pick it up, pulling your hand away. she was too slow to stop you. “i’ll wash up for you.”

you got up with both your plates but she followed you to the kitchen. she leaned on the counter as you washed the dishes.

“did you have many injuries?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

“yeah, bruised everything. broke most things. broken ribs, my eardrums burst, just… everything that could break a child.” you dryly chuckled, remembering how young you were when you had to deal with all of that.

“anything that hurts to this day?” it’s like she could see straight through you.

“yeah. my left arm. it’s just always acting up. it just broke horribly so the bones never fully recovered. it’s okay though, i think i can still lift more than you.” you joked, nudging her, trying to lighten the mood. sam laughed with you, stepping backwards to steady herself.

“oh i don’t doubt that.” she returned your energy, it was nice to see sam drop her usual demeanour.

you put the dishes on the drying rack after realising you had been scrubbing and rinsing them for nothing, getting carried away with your conversation.

“anyways, they were gonna cut it off but i didn’t want that. i wanted to try and heal. i unfortunately had to quit heaps of things in high school. gave up a lot of things i loved.” you frowned a little, “but it’s okay, i found new things!”

you dried your hands then felt a hand squeeze your arm gently, a sign of affection. you turned your head to see sam hovering over you. her fingers gently trickled down to touch your bad arm, her eyes trailing across the skin.

you were so close to her, so close. you could feel the heat radiating off her body.

“you’ve been through so much. and yet your heart is so good.” she whispered, not needing to make her voice any louder due to your close proximity.

“you never know what someone might be going through.” you turned around to face her, looking up at the taller girl in front of you. “not a lot of people treated me with kindness after the accident.”

she put her hands on both your upper arms, rubbing them as a way of grounding you after talking about something so heavy. it was working, you felt like you were more present than ever before.

the way she was looking at you— she was staring straight into your soul. it was like she was peeling all your layers back just by breathing the same air as you.

“nobody will ever hurt you again.”

it was almost a promise. you knew she couldn’t guarantee it, but she was going to try her hardest.

the statement made you close the gap between the two of you. you leaned upwards, almost reflexively. you even held onto the cloth of her shirt. she leaned down too, her lips hovering directly in front of yours.

just fucking do it.

your eyes fluttered shut, you moved in for it. and you swear you felt her lips before you heard it.

click!

the door swung open, quinn was home. you shoved sam back so hard that her back hit the wall with a thunk.

“hey guys.” she said, tiredness threading through the greeting.

“quinn. i thought you were staying over at what’s-his-name’s place?” sam asked, annoyed. you almost missed it.

you had your fingers grazing your own lips, still in disbelief at what happened. you didn’t even know if you made contact.

“i was supposed to but we fought because he didn’t make me cum.” quinn said, bluntly. you turned around, your eyes widened at the statement. you felt like you were intruding.

“interesting fight.” sam nodded, pretending to be amused.

“he’s a big baby. don’t worry about it. i’ll let y’all get back to dinner.” she kicked her shoes off and waved before making a beeline for her room.

sam’s jaw was tight. she was clearly bothered about being interrupted. you were staring at her side profile, your own arms crossed.

“we shouldn’t have, sam.” you said, firmly. you felt like a damn criminal going after her. you knew it would start more drama in the carpenter household after there was already so much brewing.

“but you want to.” she said, retaliating against your statement. “and i want to.”

“but we can’t. tara will hate us.” she scoffed at your words. what you didn’t realise is that she was more than willing to take that risk.

“we already did, anyway.” she said, moving towards you.

so you did. you did kiss her. in the split second you had before quinn walked in, you kissed her. and she felt it— there was no turning back now.

“sam…” you held your hand out, the tips of your fingers hitting her abdomen, stopping her from getting any closer.

because you knew if she came any further, you would do it again.

“we’re not doing it again.” you glared at her, but all you received back was a smirk. “i’m going.”

you turned away from her, walking to the front door to grab your bag and jacket. she stayed in the kitchen, she wasn’t going to try and stop you. she knew that you needed time to process.

she needed her time too. now was the wrong time to try and start this, in the middle of fighting an ongoing war against a masked killer. it was wrong, unfair to you both. but she couldn’t resist the urge.

in the space between trying to keep everyone alive, she wanted to fit you in. she wanted you by her side through all of this, even if it meant only having a second to kiss you in between stabs.

you put your bag on your shoulder and turned the doorknob, walking out and shutting the door behind you. she sighed in defeat as she packed the remaining leftovers away for anyone to pick at later on.

she walked into her room and plopped down on the bed, reaching for her phone. she found herself worrying about whether or not you made it home safe, she didn’t know if you would text her at all.

her thumbs quickly typed a message.

“please let me know if you get home safe.”

“home safe.” you texted her twenty 20 minutes later. as much as you knew distance was good for now, you wanted to ease her worries. she didn’t need to worry about you.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you don’t know how you found yourself ignoring the invite to another family dinner at the carpenter household.

you thought that by putting space between you and sam that the desire to give into the craving would fade away.

when you grabbed your pizza and made sure to lock your door three times, you found yourself increasingly paranoid at the thought that you were no longer safe from the infamous ghostface. you started to regret not going to the perpetually busy household.

and turning on the television didn’t help.

PRIME SUSPECT SAMANTHA CARPENTER

it was screaming at you.

you sat up and increased the volume. you couldn’t believe your ears.

if ghostface’s plan was to frame sam, it was working. you had to give him credit for that, but it didn’t anger you any less.

you didn’t need to hear anymore before your pizza was abandoned and you were dashing out the door with your things.

you had a promise to keep.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

twenty minutes. that’s all it took for ghostface to wreak havoc on the carpenter household.

quinn dead. anika dead.

funny enough, it’s also how long you took to arrive.

when you arrived, chad and tara were outside the apartment, trying to fight their way in.

“what the hell is going on?!” you asked, rushing to them.

“ghostface is inside! sam, mindy, and anika are still in there!” tara yelled, panicking.

you could feel the adrenaline course through your veins. you were safe out here— but sam was not here.

you pushed your shoulder against the door, pulling chad and tara closer to you.

“together on my count. we do it thrice.” you said.

“one.” bang!

“two!” bang!

“three!” crash!

the three of you came stumbling into the apartment, the bloodstained walls immediately catching your eye. you prayed that the blood belonged to ghostface.

“sam!” you screamed out into the house.

“sam!” she heard your voice from danny’s apartment.

oh no. you weren’t supposed to be here for this.

the masked figure spun around upon hearing your voice. he turned to look at sam. she couldn’t see his eyes but she knew he was looking at her. he was taunting her to come back and save you.

she would have jumped the window on her own without the damn ladder if not held back by mindy and danny.

she tried screaming out to you to get out of the apartment.

but you couldn’t hear her. you were too busy examining quinn’s lifeless body. as you reached over to try and check for a pulse, you heard running.

running. fast. towards you.

and then a blade coming down.

you screamed in pain as the blade went through your lower left arm. it was already bad, what use was it anyway?

sam shut her eyes at the sound, it was loud enough to wake the entire street. and she could do absolutely nothing. it was the thing of nightmares.

chad and tara came running to you, chad throwing his body at ghostface. he knocked him over and picked you up.

sam gripped the ladder until her knuckles were white. she wanted to leave it there just in case you three needed it too. she prayed silently that you would not meet the same fate as anika.

you were dragged out of the apartment and down the stairs. when you reached outside, the wind blew against the blood trickling down your body. it sent a chill down your spine. your hand was wrapped around the stab wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

chad took his hoodie off and wrapped it around your arm, hoping to take some weight off your hand. you were grateful for him in the moment.

tara was calling someone but you were losing blood too quickly to follow what she was saying.

sam came running the second she spotted you from danny’s window.

you only then realised you had no idea where sam was.

sam was coming. her feet were working as fast as they could.

you didn’t see her in the apartment so you held onto the hope that she was okay.

she needed to see you. she needed to make sure you were okay.

you heard a door fly open. expecting it just to be some random person, you turned around just out of curiosity.

sam came flying out the door, enveloping you in her arms.

you winced in pain as the impact from her hug squished your arm.

“i heard you scream. i thought he’d gotten you.” sam spoke into your ear.

“nope. but he got the bad arm.” you held the injury towards her, she frowned at it.

“i’m sorry. you weren’t supposed to be here.” sam held your upper arm’s reassuringly.

“i saw the news. they were labelling you as the prime suspect. i had to make sure you were okay.” you stared into sam’s eyes. “i made you a promise.”

you had her. it was then that you had her. she was yours, and she knew it. you knew it too.

tara watched you two inquisitively. she didn’t realise you two had gotten that close. was she missing something?

while holding onto her phone to call an ambulance for you, she wondered if maybe you already had what you needed.

it was wrong. she knew it was, but she had to intervene.

tara walked towards you, basically pushing sam out of the way and resting her hand on your upper arm.

“i called an ambulance for you. you should sit til then.” she directed you towards the steps of the complex.

you let tara sit next to you, placing your arm on your lap.

“it’s the shit arm.” she said, referring to an inside joke the two of you had made during your relationship. it was an obvious inside joke to figure out but it made the two of you laugh.

you didn’t quite laugh though, you just nodded dejectedly.

“it is. it never catches a fucking break.” you huffed in frustration. you didn’t want to know the damages that would occur from this injury.

“i’m sure it’ll be okay. your body has survived so much worse.” part of you was surprised she even remembered the accident you’d been through.

“parts of my body have. why couldn’t he have gone for my leg or something?” you groaned out, tara’s dimples making an appearance from the smile that she flashed you.

“maybe you should let him know that for his next attack.” tara joked, it was an attempt to make you feel better despite ill timing.

you couldn’t hold back the snicker you felt bubble in the back of your throat. you were bleeding into chad’s hoodie but somehow tara made you feel better about it. it was a nice side of her.

“maybe i’ll leave a note.” you turned to her with a smile now growing.

“glad you’re feeling a bit better.”

“it still feels like shit. but thank you.” you acknowledged her efforts. she nodded and sat with you until the ambulance arrived.

when the paramedics collected you, they let you sit on the stretcher.

“fancy.” you mumbled, “and expensive.”

they loaded you into the vehicle and the male paramedic turned to the group outside.

“is anyone coming with her?”

“i’ll go.”

“i’ll go.”

both sisters chirped up at the same time, standing right at the door.

“only one of them can come with you.” the female paramedic said, turning to you.

you stared at the two girls. why did they have to do this tonight?

you had a choice to make, and you had to proceed with exceeded caution.

tara or sam.

sam or tara.

you had to choose before you bled out.

in your fuzzy state, you slurred out your answer.

and the chosen carpenter hopped into the ambulance with you.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

author’s journal

okayyy everyone thank emma for pushing me to get this done earlier than i expected.

i’m also sorry if the romance feels a little rushed but i wanna get the romantic element kickstarted a bit more because we’re all here for it lets be real.

ummm i also wanted to write out the ladder scene a bit more but this chapter would go on FOREVERRRR

this was also my first time ever writing a simultaneous pov scene so i hope it makes some form of sense

anyways i hope y’all enjoyed this and i’m sorry for the cliffhanger— no i’m not, i’m so funny.

kisses!

[rootedinrevisions]

Noisy Nights

SUMMARY: Tyler has been gone for weeks, following storms across the Midwest. When he finally returns home to his wife, the chemistry between them is undeniable. But with their best friend Boone unexpectedly staying the night, they'll have to keep their passion under wraps or risk being heard. As the night unfolds, the intensity of their reunion grows, testing their ability to stay quiet when every touch and whisper pushes them closer to the edge.

A/N: Thank you to the person who send me the DM about this request! This one was so fun to write! I really hope you like it!

PROMPT: "Staying quiet never was your strong suit, was it?"

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. Unprotected sex, Oral Female Receiving, P in V sex.

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The evening sun cast a warm glow over the old farmhouse, its light filtering through the trees as you stood on the wraparound porch, watching the gravel road that wound its way up to your front yard. It had been three long weeks since Tyler left for what was meant to be a five-day chase on the Oklahoma-Kansas border.

But mother nature had her own ideas. One storm led to another, each one calling him further away. You understood–you always did. The storms had a pull on him that you’d long accepted was part of who he was. But after nearly a month, you were ready to have him back home.

Just as the sun dipped below the trees, you finally heard the familiar rumble of his truck. You stepped down off the porch, watching as he rolled up the drive, your heart quickening at the sight. Standing there in your sundress, the light breeze lifted the hem, just enough to make you shiver with anticipation.

The truck came to a stop, and you could see him through the windshield, his face breaking into a tired, relieved smile. The second his Ariat boots hit the dirt, you were already running. Gravel crunched under your feet as you made your way to him, and by the time you reached him, he had his arms wide open, ready to catch you.

When you collided with him, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you right off the ground, holding you tight. You buried your face into his shoulder, breathing him in–the scent of rain, dust, and something unmistakably Tyler. He held you close, his hands pressed against your back, and his face nestled into the curve of your neck.

“Missed you,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, roughened by days on the road and nights spent under open skies.

“I missed you more than I could say,” you whispered back, your fingers finding their way into his messy, damp hair still wet from the rain, your touch lingering just a little longer than usual. Tyler pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face.

“Nothing like coming home to you, darlin’,” he said softly, his thumb gently tracing your cheek. His gaze held yours, and for a moment, the pull of the storms, the long roads, the endless miles–none of it mattered. He was here. He was home.

As you stayed wrapped in Tyler’s embrace, he leaned down, his eyes searching yours before he began to close the distance between you, his lips brushing just above your own. It was a kiss he’d been wanting to give you since he left, the kind that lingered in his mind during the long nights on the road.

But just as you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, a loud, familiar honk echoed from down the driveway, breaking the moment. You both turned, and there it was–Boone’s beat-up old gray van lumbering up the gravel road, rattling with each bump.

Tyler let out a soft sigh, a sheepish grin spreading across his own face. He cast you a guilty look as Boone leaned out the window, giving a cheerful wave in your direction.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you looked back up at Tyler. “Let me guess–Boone’s crashing here tonight?” You asked, your tone half-resigned, half-amused.

Tyler nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, he was getting pretty tired, and I didn’t want him driving another hour and fifteen back to his place. Figured he’d be safer here for the night.”

You smiled, already used to the unplanned sleepovers with your husband’s best friend after a chase. You’d long since accepted that Boone came with the package, his loyalty to Tyler as steadfast as the storms they chased together.

Reaching up, you gave Tyler a quick kiss. “I’ll go get the guest room ready,” you said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before you turned to head inside.

As you made your way up the steps and into the house, you glanced back one last time, watching as Boone pulled his van to a stop and hopped out, a broad grin lighting up his face. Tyler threw an arm around his friend’s shoulders, giving him a tired but grateful smile. They both looked exhausted, faces lined with the grit and weariness of the chase, but there was a familiar, easy camaraderie between them that filled you with a sense of warmth and belonging. This was home–storm chases, unplanned guests, and all.

You finished setting up the guest room, smoothing the last pillow with a satisfied sigh, then made your way to the kitchen. You knew both Tyler and Boone would be hungry after their long drive, so you started gathering ingredients, setting up a simple but hearty meal for the three of you. Before long, you hear their voices and footsteps coming in from the hallway.

Boone was the first to enter the kitchen, and he wasted no time pulling you into one of his signature bone-crushing hugs, lifting you a little off the ground as he did. You laughed, patting his shoulder as he set you down, his wide grin lighting up his tired face.

“Thanks for letting me crash here,” Boone said, his voice warm and genuine.

You waved him off with a smile. “You know you’re always welcome, Boone. This is as much your home as it is ours.”

Tyler stood leaning against the door frame, watching the two of you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with a mixture of warmth and contentment. You met his gaze, feeling a little flutter in your chest at the sight of him finally home.

Turning your attention back to the both of them, you raised an eyebrow. “Now, both of you–go get cleaned up before dinner,” you said, putting a little mock authority into your tone. You glanced over at Tyler, adding, “And maybe start a load of laundry while you’re at it?”

He chuckled, giving you an affectionate look as he straightened up. “Yes, darlin’,” he replied with a little smirk, his drawl making the words linger in the air just a second longer.

You shook your head, unable to hold back a grin as they both headed out, playfully shoving each other on their way down the hall. As you listened to their banter echo through the house, you felt a deep sense of contentment. This was your life–the two of them laughing, storm-chasing stories filling the house, and the simple, comforting rhythm of having them both here.

You turned back to the stove, adding a pinch more seasoning to the pot, your heart swelling with gratitude for this beautiful, chaotic, wonderfully imperfect life you’d built together.

Dinner was filled with laughter and stories, the kind of easy conversation that felt like second nature whenever Boone was around. He launched into tales from the latest chase–dodging hail the size of baseballs, back roads turned rivers, and one storm that had them racing to outrun a flash flood.

You listened with wide eyes, sharing glances with Tyler, who filled in the parts Boone missed or skipped, adding his own dry humor to the mix.

When you’d finally finished, Boone stretched his arms over his head, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Nothing like a home-cooked meal. You’re the best,” he said, sending you a grateful grin.

“Well, in that case,” Tyler said, pushing his chair back and standing up, “You can help me clean up since the missus did all the cooking.”

Boone groaned, rolling his eyes as he reluctantly got to his feet. “Alright, alright.” He gave you a playful, mock glare. “If he’s only making me help to impress you, just say the word and I’ll put my foot down.”

You chuckled, watching them banter as they cleared the dishes, your heart warming at the scene. It was these little moments–the laughter, the sense of family–that made this place feel like home.

Once everything was clean and put away the three of you settled into the living room, each finding a comfortable spot to unwind. You curled up next to Tyler on the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close as you leaned your head against his chest. Boone sprawled out on the love seat across from you, his feet kicked up, looking like he could fall asleep right there.

For awhile, you all just sat in a comfortable silence, the soft murmur of the evening settling around you. Every now and then, Tyler’s hand traced gentle circles on your shoulder, his touch soothing and familiar. Boone’s eyes dropped as he stifled a yawn, and you felt your own eyelids growing heavy.

Tyler gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “What do you say we call it a night?” he murmured, his voice warm and drowsy.

You nodded, giving Boone a teasing smile. “Guest room’s ready for you already.”

Boone nodded, already halfway to sleep himself. “Thanks again, you two,” he mumbled, eyes barely open as he pushed himself up from the love seat.

You and Tyler stood up, and as he slid his hand into yours, you felt that familiar sense of peace wash over you. Together, you made your way to your bedroom, a content smile playing on your lips.

As you and Tyler made your way into the bedroom, he reached behind him, and you heard the quiet click of the door lock turning. You raised an eyebrow, giving him a curious look that was met with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What’s with the lock?” you whispered, half-amused, half-intrigued.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “I don’t want any interruptions.” And with that, his lips found yours, warm and familiar, as his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer.

You felt your pulse quicken as you melted into his kiss, but after a moment, you gently pulled back, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “What exactly do you think Boone’s going to interrupt?”

Tyler’s grin was equal parts playful and filled with that telltale spark. He didn’t even need to say it; the look in his eyes was answer enough. After three weeks on the road, you knew what was on his mind. His gaze lingered on yours, his fingers tracing a slow, familiar path along your back.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice low and filled with a hint of a challenge, “I haven’t seen my wife in three weeks. I figured I’d make up for lost time… unless you have any objections?”

You shook your head, a grin spreading across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. 

“No objections here,” you whispered, your heart racing as he leaned down, capturing your lips again in a kiss that held all the longing and love that had built up during his time away.

Tyler’s hands found your waist as he lifted you up, guiding you back onto the bed, his body settling over yours as he leaned down, trailing a line of warm kisses along your jaw. His lips moved slowly, lingering, his breath hot against your skin as he made his way down to the curve of your neck. You felt him pause, then felt the light graze of his teeth against your pulse point, followed by a gentle bite that sent a shiver racing through you. He didn’t stop there—his mouth lingered, and then you felt the heat of his lips as he began to suck, each movement drawing out a soft moan that escaped before you could stop it.

Tyler grinned against your skin, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, amusement and warmth in his gaze. 

“Now, darlin’, I’m gonna need you to be quiet,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Or I might have to slow down, and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

A needy whine escaped your lips, and you could feel his grin widen as he leaned in, his mouth finding yours again as he deepened the kiss, his hands beginning to roam, each touch unhurried but filled with purpose. 

Tyler’s mouth traveled down the curve of your neck, each kiss deliberate, savoring, as his hands moved along your sides, lingering in ways he knew would drive you crazy. You arched into him, but just as you were about to lose yourself completely, he paused, his lips hovering near your ear, a mischievous smile in his voice.

“Think you can keep quiet, sweetheart?” he murmured, his tone playful but laced with that challenge. “Because if you don’t, I might have to stop.” He lifted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and desire.

You narrowed your eyes at him, giving him a defiant look. The idea of him stopping now, after waiting so long to have him this close, was unthinkable, and he knew it. 

“Tyler,” you warned, a quiet plea slipping into your voice, but he just chuckled softly, leaning in to press a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I mean it,” he teased, his hands sliding lower, skimming your skin with agonizing patience. “One sound too loud, and that’s it.”

A breathy whine escaped your lips, and he gave you a playful look, bringing his lips to your neck again, grazing your skin just hard enough to send a shiver through you. His mouth traveled downward, his touch achingly familiar and yet new all over again, a reminder of how deeply he knew every part of you. Every place he touched, every kiss he pressed, was calculated to tease, to push you closer to the edge while keeping you grounded.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, trying to pull him closer, to get more, but he resisted, his movements slow, torturous, his grin widening as he felt you tense beneath him, fighting to stay quiet. It was almost too much, the way he knew exactly where to touch, exactly what you loved, and every second of it made it harder not to break his rule. And he knew it.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur as he continued, his words as much a promise as a praise.

Tyler’s hands moved down, his fingers finding the hem of your sundress. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed the fabric up, revealing more of your skin as he went, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you beneath him. A warm smile curved across his face as he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss just above your hip.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection. “All I could think about while I was gone… was this. Being right here.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, his gaze meeting yours as he slowly pulled them down, a reverence in his touch as he discarded them.

He settled himself between your legs, his hands warm on your thighs as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing your skin and sending a thrill through you. 

“I missed you,” he whispered, his words trailing down your skin, each syllable a reminder of how long he’d been waiting for this.

Then, his mouth finally met your core, a single, slow stroke of his tongue that pulled a soft, breathless moan from you. You quickly brought your hand to your mouth, fighting to keep quiet, but the intensity of his touch made it almost impossible. Tyler grinned against you, clearly pleased with the reaction he was drawing out, his voice a husky murmur against your skin.

“Three weeks without my touch, huh?” he teased softly, his tone low and teasing as he continued his slow, tantalizing movements. “Think you can stay quiet, or is that going to be too much of a challenge?”

You managed a small nod, but Tyler’s knowing look said he wasn’t convinced. And as his mouth worked against you with an achingly steady rhythm, he glanced up, his voice a gentle, breathless whisper. 

“Tell me… did you touch yourself like this while I was gone?” His words sent another wave of heat through you, and you could barely meet his gaze as you shook your head.

“I thought about it,” you admitted softly, your voice barely a whisper. “But I knew it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing compares to you.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, his words almost reverent as he continued, making sure you felt every second of his touch, each one more intense than the last.

Tyler’s movements grew more intense as he expertly brought you closer, his mouth working with such precision and care, knowing exactly how to drive you wild. The pressure inside you built, the tension curling tighter and tighter until you couldn’t hold it anymore. Your body trembled beneath him, and your legs began to shake, an overwhelming wave of pleasure surging through you.

As you fought to keep quiet, Tyler’s lips found yours, his kiss deep and urgent, pulling the sounds from your throat as you finally lost control. The orgasm rippled through you, intense and overwhelming, and Tyler kissed you even harder, his mouth a soothing balm against the cries you couldn’t help but let out.

His hands gripped your hips to steady you as the waves of pleasure washed over you, his kiss keeping your moans muffled as your body shook in his arms. When the tremors began to subside, Tyler didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he stayed close, his lips still pressed to yours, as if he wanted to share that moment with you, to hold you in it just a little longer.

You could barely catch your breath, your chest heaving as you pulled away slightly, your eyes meeting his. Tyler’s face was flushed, his own breath ragged, a satisfied grin playing at the corners of his lips.

“That was… amazing,” you whispered, still trying to steady your breath, the lingering heat of your orgasm still pulsing through you. Tyler’s grin widened, and he kissed you again, soft and tender this time, his hand gently brushing through your hair as he pulled back slightly.

“I’ve been thinking about that for weeks,” he muttered, his voice low and full of warmth as he settled beside you, pulling you into his arms. “And now I’m not letting you go.”

You smiled against his chest, the comforting weight of him beside you soothing, but you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Tyler’s hands slowly started to undress himself, the familiar pull of his shirt over his head, the slow unbuckling of his belt, all of it a teasing promise of what was to come. His eyes never left yours as he undid each button, each motion deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second. You watched him, feeling the heat rise within you once more at the sight of his strong, familiar form, the taut muscles of his chest and arms, the rough edges of his hands that always seemed to know exactly how to touch you.

Once he was fully undressed, Tyler crawled onto the bed, his movements slow and purposeful. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the sweetness of you as he took his time, letting the moment stretch between you before he pulled away.

He settled back against the pillows, his gaze intense and hungry, his breath coming in soft, controlled bursts. “Tonight, I want to watch you,” he said, his voice hushed with desire. “I want to watch you ride me.”

A grin spread across your face, a mix of excitement and confidence filling you. You’d missed this, missed the connection between you, the way Tyler made you feel powerful and wanted all at once. Without a word, you swung your leg over him, positioning yourself above him as you straddled him, your body hovering just above his. Tyler’s eyes never left yours, watching the way your body shifted, the way you controlled the movement.

You could feel the heat of him beneath you, the undeniable tension building between you. With a slow, teasing motion, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling the stretch, the way he filled you, and Tyler groaned beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets.

The slow rhythm of your movements began, your hips rocking against him as you took the lead, the feel of his body beneath yours setting you both on fire. Tyler’s hands found your waist, guiding you, his eyes dark and full of admiration as he watched you. The room filled with the sound of your breath, the soft slick of skin against skin, and the rhythmic sounds of your bodies moving together.

Tyler’s voice broke through the air, low and gravelly, “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his hands trailing up your sides, pulling you closer to him as the pace quickened.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his, the intensity of your movements growing, the feeling of him filling you driving you to the edge. Every moment, every touch felt electric, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

Your breath was ragged, your body moving with a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge. You leaned down slightly, your lips brushing against Tyler’s ear as you whispered, “I’m close…”

The words were all it took. Tyler’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you with a new intensity, his movements matching yours in perfect harmony. The tension in the air between you both built to a peak, the connection between you undeniable.

And then it hit, both of you, at the same time. The world seemed to freeze for a moment as you both reached the height of your pleasure. You clung to each other, your body trembling as waves of sensation crashed over you. Tyler’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you collapsed, your head resting gently against his chest.

Your breathing slowed, the rapid rise and fall of your chest easing as you melted into him. His hands stroked your back tenderly, comforting you as the last remnants of the high faded. The only sound now was the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear and his own soft, steadying breath.

Tyler’s voice was a murmur above you, a low sound of contentment. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You smiled against his skin, feeling his warmth surrounding you, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly right.

The next morning, you and Tyler made your way downstairs, the soft creak of the stairs underfoot a comforting sound in the quiet of the house. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, and you could already feel the warmth of the day starting to seep into the home.

As you passed the living room, your eyes caught a familiar sight—Boone, curled up on the couch, the blankets half off and a pillow clutched to his chest. You stopped in your tracks, both you and Tyler exchanging a puzzled glance.

“Is that Boone?” you whispered, unsure of what to make of the scene.

“Guess so,” Tyler murmured back, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he took a few steps closer to his best friend.

You both approached quietly, but the rustling of your footsteps woke Boone. He blinked, slowly coming to his senses as he looked up at the two of you. A lazy grin appeared on his face when he saw the confusion written on yours.

“What are you doing down here?” Tyler asked, crossing his arms over his chest, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Boone stretched his arms out, yawning exaggeratedly, before answering, “Couldn’t sleep with all the... noises coming from your room last night,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

You felt your cheeks heat up instantly, the blood rushing to your face as embarrassment flushed through you. Tyler, on the other hand, looked entirely too pleased with himself, his grin widening into a proud smirk.

You kept walking toward the kitchen, trying to ignore the heat flooding your face, but Boone’s words echoed in your mind.

Once you were out of earshot and in the quiet safety of the kitchen, you muttered, still trying to steady your breath. “I can’t believe Boone heard us last night.”

Tyler let out a low chuckle as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and giving you that smug look you knew all too well. “Staying quiet never was your strong suit, was it?”

You shot him an exasperated look, the blush on your cheeks still burning. “You didn’t exactly help with that, you know.”

Tyler just shrugged, his grin never fading as he reached for the coffee pot. “I’ve got no problem with it,” he said with a wink, clearly enjoying your discomfort far more than he should.

You sighed and tried to hide your face in your hands for a moment, still feeling the heat creeping up your neck. Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit amused by the whole situation. This was just another funny story to add to the list of things that made life with Tyler—and Boone—so unexpectedly entertaining.

Tyler must have noticed the way you were still flushed, so he stepped toward you, his grin softening into something more affectionate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight, comforting hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice warm and soothing despite the amusement still dancing in his eyes. “Boone’s not gonna care.”

You melted into him, taking in the comfort of his embrace, your embarrassment slowly fading away. “I still can’t believe it,” you muttered into his chest, feeling safe in his arms.

Tyler chuckled, pulling back just enough to look down at you. “I love that I can still make you blush,” he teased, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You couldn’t help but smile, the closeness of the moment taking the sting out of your earlier discomfort. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“But you love me anyway,” he grinned, giving you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you toward the kitchen counter.

You shook your head, laughing softly, and the rest of the morning seemed a little lighter, your embarrassment forgotten in the warmth of Tyler’s presence.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader

Summary: All the buildup, all the teasing, finally leads to this: Simon is back and ready to act on all those filthy things you two had been teasing each other with. Will you make it home before you both explode? Or will the car have to do to break the tension?

Word Count: 5.1 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

Unsteady hands gripped hard into the steering wheel, knuckles white as you tightly held on while headed straight to the military base. Your heart pounding furiously inside your chest, breath quick and short the closer you got, it was nearly impossible to keep your eyes focused on the road. Christ were you gnawing at the bit to get there and once again see that beast of a man, the one keeping you begging for release for the past three months.

Those breathtaking bits of personalized porn you two had sent each other had done nothing other than made that inconvenient ache into a raging monster that could not be quenched. Hours spent furiously working yourselves, silently begging for a little ease in the constant throbbing had gotten nowhere except to drain the battery life on your phones from the constant re-watching of videos.

…though that last photo he sent you of his abdomen covered in his milky white cum after having watched your little romp into amateur pornography had left you feeling on top of the world for a couple days.

And just as you were on that last leg of desperation, finally the light at the end of the tunnel that led up to you driving where you were today. It had been exactly one week from when you got the text you had been waiting on from Simon:

“I’m coming home, baby. Fucking finally; Christ I thought I was going to rub myself raw. Best not wear anything you want to remain intact, you hear me? Cause the minute I get my paws on you, that's it.”

Thank fuck, the suffering was almost over.

That entire week seemed to drag on endlessly, each day crawling through at a snails pace, but here you were now only a few more minutes away from your destination. Even as you checked in at the entrance to the base, antsy and squirming in the seat of your car, you couldn’t believe that you had actually made it.

You took Simon’s message to heart when you got ready that morning, choosing a simple, flowy dress that he could literally shred off of you and you wouldn’t give a shit. It was just long enough that it could easily conceal the fact that you had done away with the panties today, opting for ease of access over anything else, but low cut enough in the front that he could get a nice eyeful of your full chest; you had no idea what would happen the moment you saw each other again and you weren’t taking any chances.

This reunion was bound to be explosive after all the visual edging you two had been doing lately and having to waste even a second more of time before your bodies could be joined felt like a crime.

You walked through the base, heartbeat rapidly increasing with each step as you got closer to where you knew you'd find that hulking Lieutenant hanging around.

And then you turned a corner and there he was like a specter brought back to life, standing idly beside the outside wall smoking as he watched the privates of his troop find their families and suddenly the wind was knocked from you.

“Simon,” you called out to him and he turned to face you.

That instant connection of your eyes felt like a shock from a live wire; Simon could feel the electricity run through his veins and tingle its way up his spine until the first prickles of sweat dotted across his body as his cigarette slipped from his fingers. It felt like he couldn’t breathe and the closer you got the worse it became; you knew what you were doing wearing that pretty little dress.

Fuck did he want to take a bite of those thick thighs he could see just under the hem that popped out every time you took a step and if his hands didn’t get their fill of your breast spilling out of his grip soon, he might just keel over and die. You were more than tempting, you were a feast sent to make him completely lose his goddamn mind.

His entire body was sent into shock as that ache that he had tried to keep from ripping him apart all day as he waited for your arrival overtook him until his balls pulsed and he had to adjust himself or get caught sporting a stiffy that would instantly tent the crotch of his pants and make it even more painfully obvious to any curious eyes just how gone he fucking was.

Coming to a stop you stood before him, your stomach doing back flips as you struggled to form words that weren’t just pleas for him to just rip the waistband of his pants down and take you right then.

“Hey you,” you said through unsteady breaths, trying to keep calm. “Long time no see, huh?”

Simon nodded. “Too fuckin’ long sweetheart. Ya look...” he had to clear his throat, “incredible.” He had to keep it short, there were still too many people about and even his words would cause him to lose composure.

“Well, it is a special occasion after all,” you chuckled. “Got to remind you what you leave behind every time you go.”

The need to take your hand and give it squeeze, that customary greeting that you both did when in public, made him hesitate. If he touched you right now, any bare part that met skin with skin, he may not be able to stop, not once those weathered and brutish fingers got their fill of all that sweet softness. There as still a little time left that he had to be there and the agony was already eating away at him.

“Believe me, I fuckin’ know,” he said as he shot you a look; I’ve been in hell waitin’ to get back to it, it whispered to you.

Taking a few calming breaths, he risked lacing his broad fingers in between the empty spaces in your own. Simon could feel the rapid thump, thump, thump, of your pulse against his palm; good, you were just as excited for this reunion as he was.

Somehow that made it a bit easier, knowing that the feeling was mutual.

“Can we go?” you asked eagerly, hopeful that you were closer to the end of your joint suffering sooner rather than later.

Simon stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. “Gotta be here just a bit longer,” he muttered dejectedly under his breath. “God, I want ya so bad I can’t see straight.”

You squeezed his hand back. “It’ll go fast,” you assured. “And…I mean… no one’s looking this way if you wanted to touch me a little more. Maybe you’ll find something you’ll like.”

It was dangerous, but he took a chance with even more touch as he released your hand and loosely wrapped his arm around your waist, bring you in to him until your hips were touching. You were warm against him, warmer than the day would suggest, and the curve of your hip that he ran his fingers over delicately to retrace the lines he had dreamed about felt even better than he remembered.

Silently you peaked over at his face, watching as his head faced firmly forward to watch for any prying eyes, but it was clear he hadn’t noticed it yet. Not wanting to spoil the surprise, you kept quiet; he’d figure it out eventually. Those exploring fingers were beginning to stray more towards the back of you to the small dip at the base of your spine.

…and then lower still…

That’s when you felt it; he risked a lingering stroke over the contour of your ass when he noticed it. Where was that distinct seam of your panty line? He had grabbed your backside so many times over the course of your relationship that he knew the feeling of what should have been there. Quickly he ran his hand over the area again and still the same, there was nothing. Christ, you’d really prepared for today, hadn’t you?

Good fuckin’ girl.

His chest began to grow tight with his quickened breathing… along with that engorged appendage down below. He was in fucking trouble now; would he even be able to make it to the car at this point? The moan that desperately tried to escape through his throat he swallowed down, but who knows how long it would stay.

He was in the thick of it now.

Simon leaned down to rest his face against the side of your head, his warm breath still able to be felt against your ear even through the mask. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart, no panties?” he whispered intrigued. “Christ, how the fuck am I supposed to hang on now?”

You smirked, trying to pick even though you were falling apart at the seams, a wetness gathering between your thighs as you pressed them together. “You complaining? Cause I can head back home and put some on real quick if you want.”

A harsh squeeze along the underside of your ass cheek made you gasp before he removed his hand and gave you your answer. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he warned, a playfully lilt to his tone. “That sweet little pussy is about to be filled and I don’t wanna waste a goddamn second havin’ to rip those fuckin’ things off ya.”

Dear God he was about to fuckin’ explode, say screw it and pin you up against the nearest wall right in front of the entire goddamn squad to plow into your tight, wet cunt with months worth of unrequited need that had built up to this monster of desire churning away inside of him. His teeth bit at the skin of his lower lip, his fists clenching and unclenching as he failed to calm himself while he again checked the time.

The moment that those amber eyes watched the second hand on his watch hit and the minutes change to the millisecond he could be released, his oversized mitt wrapped around your wrist, securing it in his harsh grasp, and quickly he began making his way to your car with you being dragged alongside.

“Where the hell are ya parked?” he questioned in a huff, that gruff voice nothing more than a growl, and you pointed towards the back of the lot in the corner.

You could barely keep up with his intense pace, nearly tripping over your own feet several times to match his long strides. It didn’t help that your heart was pounding furiously, nearly beating out of your chest the closer you got to being in a tight, secluded spot with him; could you even make it back to his apartment?

All signs were pointing to not a fucking chance.

Simon only released you so that you could both get inside, separating at the tail of the vehicle with you headed towards the driver side and him the other. The slam from the car door rung through the interior of the vehicle and before you could even insert the key into the ignition, Simon had moved in silent as a specter to place his large palm against the side of your cheek. The endless ache he had endured over the past months apart had been unbearable as you both edged each other to the brink of insanity and now that he was so close to you again it felt like he was in a dream.

The tension that suddenly filled the car was overwhelmingly electric as Simon closed what little distance there still sat between you both, his hand moving to the back of your head. Those bulky, calloused fingers that had missed having any part of you against them laced themselves through your hair with harsh abandon, pulling your face closer.

He held your head steady and pointedly at his face so that you had to stare into his intense, unwavering gaze; it made your skin tingle with anticipation of what was on the horizon and barreling down fast. Those sparkling brown eyes drew you in to hold your own captive as he drug his thick thumb across the length of your bottom lip as if to test that all this was actually real. His entire hand palmed the back of your head which left you completely at his mercy, not that you were complaining.

After all, you needed him just as badly.

Without warning he wrenched the bottom hem of his balaclava up over the top of his head and off his face before his mouth crashed violently against your own, hungry and greedy to steal kiss after fiery kiss from those soft, supple lips he had been eyeing with a burning desire to ruin since the minute he saw you again. Desperately his tongue parted your lips as he plunged it inside your mouth to reclaim it.

God it felt euphoric to finally be given the very thing you had been aching for for months, feeling as if your body had pined for his for an eternity, as it was finally released from it’s torture. And by the way his tongue was nearly shoved down the back of your throat you knew Simon felt that same kind of relief and it only spurred him on further.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your parted lips, nothing but hot, sticky breath being shared. “Ugh…fuck, baby, I’ve missed you so goddamn much I thought I was gonna fuckin’ die before I could feel ya again.”

Crawling over the small console in the center between the car seats, Simon shoved his body weight into you, making your smaller frame slam against the driver-side door. The raised panelling along the inside dug roughly into the muscles of your back as the backside of your head was shoved harshly into the glass of the window. There was no pause in his assault of your mouth until your lips began to burn from the constant contact and yet even the pain still felt like heaven.

He tasted so strongly of tobacco from the chain of cigarettes he must have smoked to calm his nerves until you arrived, but even through the distinct flavor you still drank every last drop of him down like you would cease to function without him.

Those thick digits of his free hand eagerly pawed at your supple thighs until he was able to divide them so that his hand could slip in between. There was a damp heat gathered near your unclothed sex and it only made him more wild to feel it. His palm cupped around your entire mound and you whimpered directly into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he hissed one of the only words he could recall in that moment as the damp heat filled his palm. “All for me?”

Words, what the hell were they again? You couldn’t remember how speech worked as you were far too busy try to simply breathe through the conquering of your body by him. All you could do was mewl like a kitten as he massaged the petals of your cunt before taking his middle finger and slipping it between them. Your back arched in a jolt as he ran one finger along the length of your cunt, mouth falling agape as Simon gathered as much of your juices on his finger as he could.

Even this small amount of contact already had you dripping and coming apart at the seams; it had been so long since you had felt that familiar touch and pressure against your clit, the one that only he could provide.

Simon couldn’t help himself once he got his first real feel again of how soft and slick you were, goddamn it had been too long that he’d only been able to play with himself, and greedily he drew upon your clit in concise circles with the pad of his rough finger. There was a second where he tried to remain calm, to take his time drawing out your pleasure as he would normally do, but as your back arched and your breathy music filled the silence of the car, he could not hold off from unleashing weeks of pent up need onto you.

Removing his lips from your own, he moved down to the soft skin of your neck with teeth ready to leave the flesh marked with his seal. It burned him alive with desire at the thought that he would be able to see your pretty skin marred by him, that everyone who came in to contact with you in the coming days after today would see it too.

You could not stop the way your body writhed and squirmed as his finger collected a friend to join it and spread your entrance open so they could both slide inside. The heightened tension of the moment with the man you had yearned for only made you more sensitive and the way his fingers filled your tight, aching hole after it had been left empty for too long thrilled you. As natural as breathing, your hips ground down on his fingers, using them as your own living dildo.

God, he wanted nothing more than for you to ride his cock as well as you rode his fingers just now and send him straight to hell. Shit, he couldn’t catch his breath, his need was just too much. “That’s it. Use me; make my fingers yours.”

Both of your hands moved to behind your head and onto the window; you needed more leverage to ground onto him harder, as hard as you could. Nothing compared to him, not your own fingers, not a toy; you could not stop yourself. You could feel the condensation already gathering on the glass as you moved and you had to wipe it away so that you could get better purchase on the surface so you wouldn’t slide.

There was nothing that was going to ruin this.

“Oh god, baby,” you squeaked out as that overwhelming deep warmth of your release gathered in your abdomen.

The corners of his mouth upturned against your neck at the sound of you falling apart because of him. Images conquered in his mind about your moans and cries reaching outside the car so that anyone who walked by would hear them before they caught a glimpse of the show. Why wouldn’t he want to show you off like this? You looked so fucking beautiful falling apart to his ferocity.

Just the way your muscles strained and your cries became more pathetic, Simon knew you were close. “Are ya gonna come for me already, pretty girl?” his gruff voice purred against your collar bone. “Come on then, give it to me. Clench down on my fingers. Let me feel it.”

Pumping his fingers in and out of you, keeping the pace as steady as he could, he felt those velvety walls flutter around his digits as he rocked his upper body with you to simulate the movements he’d soon be doing when he was really inside you. The air was so thick with moisture it almost felt hard to breathe right, the windows filmed with the stuff as with a few more strokes at your clit you came hard and fast, shaking as he continued to work you until ever single ounce of your orgasm had been spent.

Simon was gone then, replaced by a feral beast fueled by his ability to make you come… and wanting to do it again, but this time with his cock.

He pulled those thick fingers out of you, glistening with the wetness of your cum and brought them to his lips. You watched wide eyed as he stuck them in his mouth and licked them good and clean; goddamn you tasted just as delicious as he remembered. Could you blame the man? You had kept him starving since your video popped up on his phone and he had to get a bit of it all.

“I need more of ya,” he groaned in whispers as he leaned back into you, desperate hands pawing at your breast still sadly inside your dress as he kissed you again, now with the taste of you on his breath.

“We need to move, someone’s bound to come see what all the noise is about,” you said, able to think a little more clearly now that you had come once, but Simon was still gone and there was only one thing that would bring him back.

“Don’t care, can’t wait. Get in the back. Now.”

The primal growl in his gruff voice was enough to make you comply without another word; once was not enough anyway, not after how you had suffered. You needed to be filled with more than his fingers. With a nod you immediately began climbing over the cushions towards the backseat of the car as he got out and moved into the back with you. You leaned back into the front long enough to shove the seats forward all the way to give you more space.

Simon needed room to work.

Scooting over, he planted himself directly in the middle of the back seat and pulled you over top of his lap to straddle him, shins digging into the edge of the cushion. Shit, he as so hard you couldn’t properly sit over top of him without leaving a wet spot right where his cock tented the fabric.

Clothes could be washed, as if he would care at all if anything got on him right now. Pushing your hips down, he made you grind your overstimulated clit hard on that throbbing shaft and you mewled into his face. A devilish grin spread from ear to ear as he rocked your hips to dry hump him.

“Someone ‘ere begged to be bred and that’s what she’s gonna fuckin’ get,” he hissed, sucking in the air harshly between his teeth at the feeling of you on top of him. “Can’t take it back now, luv. I have been fuckin’ dreamin’ of doin’ this, ever since you sent me that goddamn video and I ‘eard you say those sweet fuckin’ words. Been fuckin’ gnawin’ at the bit to stuff you full.”

Taking both of his hands, he pulled at the low neckline of your dress until your breasts came spilling out of the top. Angling his face in, he placed his nose right between the two to suffocate himself within them. There was a hint of your perfume still lingering there, that scent he had bought you for your birthday last year, the one that occasionally lingered on his clothes and had done for the first couple weeks of his mission.

The flesh was so enticing that he sucked in the supple top of one breast before he bit down, not enough to break the skin, but enough that it would definitely leave a nice red outline of his teeth; more signaturea that you could both admire.

“Simon,” you moaned his name.

Your own hands roamed up under his shirt, pushing the fabric up until you reached his chest and you could run your hands over the sparse bit of hair you adored; it would be so nice to get to nuzzle against it again. As your fingers ran between his pectorals you could feel the moment his breath hitched.

“Please, Simon,” you begged. “I need it.”

Those breasts he would get back to later, your words brought him back and his need to fuck you senseless slammed into him full force.

Rushed, he laid you back over the console between the seats as he sat up and forward, undoing his belt before ripping his pants down enough that he could pull his cock out of his boxers. The angle was slightly awkward, but as he aligned the leaking head of his phallus with your entrance and gave that first thrust to fully enter you, everything else fell away.

“Oh fuck…fuck… oh fuck,” that deep agonized whimper echoed through the car as Simon’s hands bore down his grip on the top of the seat cushions. “Goddammit, luv…s-shit…ah…”

Nothing, absolutely nothing in this fucking world could ever compare to the way your body felt wrapped around his cock: how silky and warm and tight it was. There was no way with his limited brain function could he accurately describe how mind-numblingly amazing it was to be inside you again. Those restless nights where he just couldn’t seem to stay satisfied, the pictures and video that made it worse, the dreams that woke him to stained boxers, it was all undone in that moment as your soft walls held him snugly.

Your head flew back over the lip of the console as he filled you completely to the hilt, stretching you out to your limit. It was almost too much after so much time apart, but goddamn was it exactly as you had wanted. You swallowed the saliva gathering in your mouth, wanting to say the words you had first brought to life in your video, but in person this time.

“Breed me, please Simon. I need you to fucking breed me.”

Never had a more beautiful sentence ever been spoken to him in all his years than to hear your desperate and depraved voice telling him to claim you in the most ultimate way; it was even more beautiful in person than it was that first time he heard it. His fingernails nearly tore holes in the seat as gripped with all this strength to stop himself from coming too fast from all the excitement.

The car began to shake forward and back as Simon snapped his hips into you with a feverish intensity. Even within the first few minutes he was already pussy drunk, slamming into you with a feral roughness that left his rhythm scattered for a bit as his brain only had one objective now: to come.

Your legs were absolutely burning and shaking from the intensity as you had to spread them wide so that he could fit in between, but it didn’t matter; you would have done anything to have him reclaim your cunt as his own again.

The scent of sex was heavy in the air of that enclosed space, the wet slapping sounds of two bodies connecting in that most erotic way keeping the beat.

Yet there was still one more thing he wanted, one more thing that he had been daydreaming about all by his lonesome. Even in this cramped space, he was determined to make it happen- for both of you. His hands were on your legs and before you knew what was happening, he had pulled out of you so that he could situate your calves up on his broad shoulders.

As he thrust back in, the new position helped him reach even deeper until he completely bottomed out. Goddamn it was like you could feel him in your stomach, so full with him that you were completely one being.

“F-fuck…” you stammered out the cry, choking on your words as you writhed uncontrollably. It was almost too much.

“There ya go baby,” he groaned as he started rocking his hips again, unable to contain himself at this consuming euphoria. “Gotta make good on my fuckin’ promise.”

He took you even rougher now, gripping into your hips hard enough to leave purple fingerprints where his hands rested as he pounded into you furiously, your body contorted and at his mercy. The windows of the car were completely fogged over now, the condensation not letting any clear visuals in or out as the axel squeaked with the force of Simon’s thrusts. The console you were still laid on scraped across your back to make it burn as your body was rocked, but the angle was so perfect that the stimulation made your brain blank to anything that wasn’t your second release creeping up on you quick.

There were no more words that could be said as you both devolved into beings hell bent on pleasure alone, just the depraved sounds of grunting and moans filling up the interior to capacity; that growing warmth in your belly nearly reaching its peak

Goddammit, he was closer than he thought due to all the pent up desire he'd been unable to sait for weeks, but he had to be sure you were almost there again too. "Are ya close?" he asked as more of a plea than a question, hips snapping desperately with a shudder as he was losing the battle to his orgasm.

"Yes," you groaned back. "Don't stop, please."

He closed his eyes tight, working to stay from blowing until he felt your thighs twitch and clamp down around him, keeping him locked in. A few more sloppy thrusts slipping through the cum covering your cunt, a few more bumps against your swollen clit, and that was it. The warmth shot through your limbs, coursing like electricity as you came once more.

"Yes, yes, yes!" you cried out and finally he let go and fuck did he come with a roar that stung your ears.

Simon's body convulsed, the muscles in his abdomen tensing and straining as he released weeks and weeks of need. You took it all riding out your orgasms in tandem until you both lay still a moment, simply breathing after such an explosive ending.

He moved back into the seat exhausted, pulling your body along with him as you stayed connected. Lightly he pushed up your dress to press his raw lips to your stomach to kiss down the lower half of your body. Each embrace was another silent praise he gave while he took deep breaths through the high of his ecstasy until his rapidly pounding slowed and he could final re-wet his dry mouth to speak.

“Fuck, I think we both needed that one,” he said against your skin, his warm breath wafting over the fine spread of moisture along your torso, making you tingle as he kept his cock buried inside. “Ya did so good for me sweetheart.”

You reached a hand out to him and he helped you to sit up and into his lap. Wrapping your arm around his neck you pulled him into a deep kiss, letting your mouths linger together with eyes closed for a few moments as you both finished coming down.

“I’m glad your back,” you whispered as your lips parted.

He cupped your cheek with his palm, staring back into your eyes as he smiled. “I’m glad to be back too,” he returned. "And I'm gonna make sure that I make up for all that lost time."

Tag list: @sillylittlereader @babygirl-riley @jarfullofjizz @jamieelol

[tsukimefuku]

blunt trauma ♰ nanami kento

summary: your mission is to execute a curse user. the issue? said curse user is nanami kento, your former high school classmate and the man who you still secretly love.

tags and cw: dark content, no use of y/n, sorcerer!f!reader, villain!nanami, +18, explicit smut (mostly rough with tender moments hate/love sex), unprotected sex (wrap it, ppl), masturbation, oral (f receiving), pv, from enemies to enemies who fucked 👍, drama and angst (i’m a latina who grew up watching telenovelas), mentions of death, canon-typical violence, ptsd, cursing, hurt/no comfort, this man is saltier than the sea and turned it into everybody else's problem. 

wc: 7.5k

notes etc.: somehow it became a character study. this is my rendition of what i think gege would make nanami to be like if they followed their original plan and had nanami be a villain. inspo list is so huge i had to make a playlist, i got carried away.

writing/reading soundtrack: playlist link ; main songs → way down we go (kaleo) and daylight (david kushner).

disclaimer: i do not in any way approve of (or encourage) the relationship depicted here. it is toxic and bad for all parties involved. this is fictional and should stay that way.

oh, father, tell me ♰ do we get what we deserve?

It felt like the air had been beaten out of your lungs by the very one and only blunt blade you ever knew when you heard the news from Gojo.

Of course the first thing he did when he finished wrapping things up was calling you. If roles were reversed, and this had been Geto, he wouldn't expect any less from you.

During the School's Exchange Event, Jujutsu High was attacked by multiple high grade curses and curse users.

One of them was your former best friend from high school, Nanami Kento. 

"Are you certain it was him?"

"Absolutely," Gojo replied on the other side of the line, "there were traces of cursed energy from his cursed technique. He was also spotted by one of MeiMei's ravens."

"And how many students did he…"

"Two students from Kyoto."

Your head instantly felt dizzy.

"He also killed around a dozen assistants and people securing cursed objects underground."

"Shit… shit," you muttered, forgetting for a few seconds what words were and how to form a coherent sentence. Following suit, your stomach dropped with a sinking ache the moment you made the obvious realization, uttering the most painful thing you had to say in your life — even worse than he's gone, so many years before.

 "This will earn him a death sentence, won't it?"

Gojo was silent for a few moments.

"Hey…"

"Tell me. I can take it."

After a bated breath — from your end, mostly — he confirmed your worst fears.

"Yes. It will."

Ever since Geto's and Nanami's defection, you and Gojo had a special type of shared sorrow over each other's failures to save the people you both loved the most. Call it trauma bonding or codependency, but you developed an unwavering sense of loyalty towards one another.

For that reason, he already knew what you were about to ask him, and you only would because you knew he wouldn't find it in himself to refuse it.

"When it happens, please, have me be appointed as the executioner."

"Of course."

Sitting with a glass of whiskey while gazing out of the window in an understated house just by the outskirts of Sendai, Nanami couldn't say he was fulfilled, unable to grasp the concept of feeling in any way elated ever since his teenage years. However, he was definitely satisfied that this plan had worked.

He managed to put a dent into Jujutsu Society, aiding Geto — or, at least, someone that looked like him, not that Nanami truly cared about it by this point — in retrieving multiple cursed objects that would be used for their inevitable fallout.

There had been a few casualties, though.

Two students and many personnel died — or rather, met their fateful end by the edge of his blunt blade —, but some deaths should be expected if Jujutsu Society was to be brought to the ground, down to its last brick.

Ever since that fateful day when he was nothing but a tall child sitting beside the cold corpse of his best friend, Yu Haibara, Nanami had simmered what would become a cauldron of absolute venom-dripping rage against Jujutsu Society.

To hell with saving other people — what about them? What about the teenager that would never grow to be a sorcerer, who became an inanimate nothing before ever getting the chance of making something out of himself? 

That face… Nanami could never forget it. It haunted his dreams, even a decade later. Such a stark contrast between the light-spirited smiles and this cold, gray monolith that laid in the morgue.

They had no right to rob their students from their youth, much less from their lives, but that's exactly what Jujutsu High did when they didn't even bother to check the mission appropriately before dispatching Haibara and Nanami to a certain death.

Nanami escaped, but just barely, by the skin of his teeth. Haibara, however, wasn't blessed with the same luck, and drew the short straw when his hitched final breaths met their end against Nanami's shoulder. Nanami, who carried his best friend on his back, desperately tried to win a losing race against death. 

Help was late to arrive.

They were too late for Haibara.

And, in a sense, they were too late for him, too.

The worst part, though, was when they were finally being transported all the way back to Jujutsu High. As he glanced over Haibara’s cadaver, now covered by a body bag, one particularly insensitive assistant very rudely stated, “at least there is a body to be buried.”

At least

There is a body 

To be buried

Those words echoed in his head for what felt like eternity. Was that the best they all had to hope for? To at least have remains left behind for the mourning?

In any case, that was why, even though he had to kill, Nanami never mangled any of his human victims — something not easy to do, given how his technique worked and how easy it was to split someone in half.

You had noticed this perverted benevolence while looking over the necropsy reports, a realization that just added insult to injury.

Let there be something for the funeral, I suppose, was what he told himself.

In his own twisted way, Nanami figured this was a kindness very few sorcerers received at their tragic ends, and decided he'd definitely be more compassionate than what Jujutsu High put their sorcerers through. 

In his eyes, those from Jujutsu High who died under his will were the ones granted a truly merciful death.

His peace was disturbed by the sound of the entrance door being brutally kicked in, flying its way across the living room. He pulled his blunt blade from the side of his armchair with his free hand, but quickly put it down when realizing it was you that had just barged inside.

He knew you very well — well enough to be certain you wouldn't come swinging at him immediately.

"I can see you still have a temper. Destroying the door wasn’t necessary, I would've opened it for you," he stated, sipping on his drink.

"I don't care," you retorted, "I guess you already know why I'm here, in any case."

"I do. You're here to carry out my death sentence," he stated, completely unbothered, as if talking about the weather.

As if he was just mundanely stuck in his ways. 

You huffed, placing your hand over your sword's handle.

"Precisely."

"We haven't spoken in a long time, why don't you take a seat?" Nanami inquired, pointing at the armchair right in front of him. "I want to finish my drink."

You glared at the curse user, as he, unfazed, kept gulping on his whiskey. Nanami was wearing a black buttoned shirt, black pants and black oxford shoes, and you couldn't help but see him as a grim reaper — this was a somber look, fitting for the equally somber man who carried it.

For a second, you took in his features — you hadn’t seen Nanami for a few years after the last time you crossed paths.

His shoulders had slightly broadened, and he still bore the same chiseled face, framed by his sand-blond hair neatly slicked back.

Nanami’s eyes traveled over you quickly, apparently doing the very same thing.

Time had left its marks. It was evident you both had grown up — and apart.

You knew this was a shit idea, but entertained it enough that you actually walked towards the chair and sat down. There were definitely things to be talked about, and you just about had a million questions for him.

Most of them, however, boiled down to what you immediately asked.

"Why did you do it?"

Nanami put his glass on the coffee table right in front of you.

"It was a necessary means to an end."

His words came with frost-bitten coldness, his voice embodying the monotone you once loved, but eventually, grew to hate.

You scoffed, incredulous at his reply, involuntarily clenching your fingers around your katana's handle as it laid on your lap.

"Necessary means to an end? Nanami, you killed teenage sorcerers!"

"As I said, and I don't like repeating myself," he interjected, "it was a necessary sacrifice for a greater cause."

"You're such a hypocritical, self-righteous ass!"

Nanami sighed, clearly displeased.

"We have always been able to keep some semblance of respect for each other, despite our… differences. Do not use that foul language with me."

You laughed bitterly, no amusement or fun in your voice as you did.

"Do you think I can still have an ounce of respect for you after what you did? You murdered my people! They were all sorcerers. You killed students, Nanami! Jujutsu High's students! Just like Haibara once was!"

He shot his eyes at you, and the aura of his cursed energy grew sinister at your words. 

"Don't say his name."

Yu Haibara, arguably the glue that kept the trio together. You were hot headed, Nanami was intransigent, and Yu was the conciliatory ray of sunshine that kept you two — but you, particularly — from constant quarreling as classmates nearly every day.

But back then, you'd argue with Nanami with love.

This wasn't the case now.

Not entirely, at least.

"He was my best friend too, the three of us were! Do you really think this is what he would've wanted?!" you questioned him, equal parts hurt and enraged.

"I'm not one to ponder on could've or would've been's. Haibara is gone."

"I'm not a would've been!"

You could still remember it. The day you realized why dealing with Nanami and hearing his sharp comebacks riled you up so intensely. 

You finally understood you were in love with him.

Ever since the first day you met Nanami, you envied the way he'd be able to keep his feelings in check when you constantly felt like falling apart. You felt jealous at how he was considered a greatly competent individual, regarded by all as the best of your class, while you were basically viewed as a ticking bomb nearing explosion. And finally, it made you livid the way how everyone treated him like the informal leader of the trio when the three of you were out on a mission together.

However, those were the same things that got you to admire your friend and, eventually, fall in love for him.

That day, you asked Nanami to meet you outside after class by himself — much to Haibara's dismay —, because you had something to tell him. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the unforgiving sun of summer was already setting, casting an orange glow through the leaves of the tree you were both under.

After confessing your feelings for him and bracing yourself for being shot down, because why the hell would Nanami Kento, the brilliant, competent, and mature second-year, have any interest in the chaotic, hot headed mess you were, you realized he actually looked surprised. After taking a few moments to collect himself, Nanami told you how he had thought you actually hated him.

At last, somewhat nervous — but definitely intent on not letting it show —, he confided he had affectionate feelings towards you as well.

Your first kiss was awkward, as it would be expected out of two inexperienced people such as you and Nanami were at that age, but it carried the sweet taste of a blue spring marked by teenage years' innocence.

It felt like a promise.

Unfortunately, such promise was unmercifully cut short the very next day, when Nanami and Haibara were dispatched to their life-changing mission.

What an irony it was that, in the end, you were the one to actually mature over Haibara's death, growing up to be an upstanding sorcerer, loved and admired by peers and students alike, and Nanami was the bomb to blow up in everybody's faces.

What a cruel irony.

"I was there too, and I'm still here, having to pick up the pieces of what you deliberately destroyed!" you rasped, angrily.

"You weren't a 'would've been'? Where were you when we needed you? When I needed you?" his voice didn't conceal the tinge of hurt that those questions carried.

What a fucking low blow.

"Nanami, that's not fair. There wasn't anything I could've done in that situation, and you know that!"

You blamed yourself for a while for not going on that mission with them, until you realized that you too would probably have died if you were there. From the three, Nanami was the only one strong and fast enough to pull off an escape like he did.

He diverted his gaze back to the window.

"You were the one to bring up hypothetical scenarios. Let's indulge in them for a minute, shall we?" 

Nanami glanced back at you, and his next words brimmed with bitter resentment, even if his voice sounded more calm and collected than ever.

"You see someone you supposedly love slowly sinking into darkness. What do you do?"

"Don't you dare, you condescending prick! I asked you so many fucking times what was going on. You were the one who shut me out!"

Your voice carried a decade-old pain that resonated from the depths of your soul.

It came from all the times you entered his dorm room with his favorite sandwich after he had cooped up in there for days on end, and he didn't even bother to eat it. Every time you asked him to talk to you, said you were there for him, and was met by a vacant stare.

And, at last, the time when he cruelly blamed you for not being there when Haibara died.

The way he coldly told you about Haibara's last words.

According to Nanami, Haibara said he wanted to speak to you one last time, at least to bid you farewell.

And you weren't there.

Oh, the viciousness with which he blamed you, and decided you owed him something for this perceived failure. 

The next time Nanami talked to you, he asked you to leave Jujutsu High with him, just like Geto did, and swore to destroy them. You tried, pleaded, implored for him to reconsider and stay, but the very following day, you were met by an empty room where the person you once loved used to be. 

That emptiness had, paradoxically, filled you wholly with grief.

Gojo once told you that nobody could save someone who didn't want to be saved.

You still thought you should've tried harder, in a childish attempt at giving yourself an illusory semblance of control over that clusterfuck of a situation.

This is the gap inside our psyche that feeling guilty tries to fill, isn't it?

We can only feel guilty about the things we could've changed, right?

Your voice sounded decades older than yourself, burdening the weight of multiple lifetimes of hurt and grief. Your soul was too old for your own good.

"How can you find it in yourself to blame me for this?! No… This is a prison of your own making. You built the house of cards that is tumbling down on your head as we speak entirely by yourself."

He huffed intensely through his nostrils — Nanami’s version of a snort —, looking the other way before proceeding, each syllable hitting you with the deadly precision of his cursed technique.

"You abandoned us, leaving me and Haibara to fend for ourselves, just like Jujutsu Society did."

By that point, you began yelling, and your voice reverberated all across the room.

"The hell I did!"

You had to take a deep breath before proceeding.

"I just couldn't get behind this dumb idea that we should become curse users and bring down Jujutsu Society."

"Why didn't you come with me?" he finally asked, in an amalgam of pain, sadness, longing, anger, and stinging resentment. "I would have followed you to the deepest recesses of hell if you asked me to."

You huffed, laughing angrily in between your teeth, before thrusting your words like thorns against him.

"Funny you should say that. You'd go anywhere for me? How about staying? Why couldn't you have stayed for me, then?!" 

Perhaps that request was egotistical, but you didn't care. If only for a moment, you wanted to give yourself this small privilege — to want in a world of duty.

"I was the one actually left to fend for myself, right inside the belly of the beast, and you couldn't have cared less."

He stared at you, nothing in his eyes other than the void left behind after his spirit got killed with his best friend so many years ago.

"I didn't stay because… Because," Nanami stated, with a grave finality, "and you're the one who chose to stay. You're still actively choosing to, just like you did back then."

"That's not a good enough answer," you replied with a bad taste in your mouth.

"It's what you've earned," he coldly replied, "but in case you change your mind-"

"Enough," you interrupted him, incredulous that even after everything, this man had the nerve of suggesting you'd ever be interested in running away with him. "It appalls me you would even consider I could… After what you've done? No, never."

Nanami sighed, and for a brief moment, seemed to be actually disappointed under his resigned, polished visage.

"Well, then. Let's get this over with, at once."

In a split second, you pushed your chair on the ground, falling on your shoulders and rolling on your back, dodging his lightning-fast attack. It left a crater behind, right where you were seconds before. Nanami jumped over the fallen armchair, and you dodged him once again, spinning on your heels, unsheathing your sword as you did so, to deal a beheading blow on the back of his neck.

However, right before impact, you faltered, slowing down your movement.

Your own body held you back from taking his life.

He didn't seem to notice.

Nanami bent down just in time to avoid the blow, and swung his blunt blade towards your kneecap. You were quick on your feet, and jumped back, putting a good distance between the both of you.

"I can see you're actually fighting to kill," he noted, getting up on his feet.

"Of course. That's what I came here to do," you spat in his direction.

"You were never the practical one."

You scoffed.

"Guess I learned something from you."

He smiled at the irony of that, but his eyes didn't follow his expression. 

Nanami lunged at you, but while you thought he'd deal his next blow in your direction, he hit your footing, having you fall on the ground. Abruptly, his blunt blade descended in your direction, but you were able to catch it and have it slip to your side using your katana supported by your hand behind it, sending a sharp, loud sound around the vicinity, trembling against the bones and flesh of the house.

You rolled on your side when he struck a new hit in your direction, leaving another gaping hole on the floor, and you jumped yourself up. 

Before you could attack him, however, he took you by surprise, and you lifted your sword to defend yourself. Nanami hit your katana with his blunt blade, breaking it near where the handle and the steel met, launching your body back on the wall.

The impact knocked the air out of your lungs, and you fell to your knees, unable to recover yourself as you got up. Instantly, you heard his quick, steady steps sprinting their way in your direction.

You were cornered.

This is it.

You braced yourself for the impact, closing your eyes. You remembered his technique perfectly.

Precise, just as he was.

Deadly, just as he was, too.

You were to die at the hands of the man you loved, who had become a murderer and only a distorted, broken version of whom you used to truly love.

This seemed like an oddly cruel way to go.

However, the impact never came.

His blunt blade stopped as it was about to hit your stomach, and you opened your eyes, just to see his face mere inches apart from yours. His mountainous form blocked your view from anything else behind him, and Nanami, at that moment, actually looked like the menace he truly was. 

“Why were you appointed as my executioner?” Nanami asked, much to your surprise.

“I asked to be,” you answered, holding his gaze as something went through his eyes. A hint of anger, most likely, and some sense of betrayal, certainly. 

“So, you want to kill someone you once loved? You were always prone to self-penitence, so it stands to reason you’d do something idiotic like that.”

You scoffed, grimacing at him, feeling your entire body incandescent with rage.

“I fucking hate you, Nanami.” 

He inched his face even closer, brushing your noses against one another, eyes stone-cold and hauntingly vacant.

“I hate you as well.”

For a moment, you wondered if he had really stopped his blade before impact. You didn't expect it, but hearing those words felt like you just had been hit, victim of a blunt trauma, at how much they tore you apart. 

The same blunt trauma that severed the Nanami you once knew — the teenager with bangs, who'd always be carrying around a few spare changes to get soda cans from the vending machine for you and Haibara, in his own understated kindness — and this empty monster looking back at you.

"Good. Finish me off, then, and get your revenge for a crime I never committed. Being unfair and an all-around self-centered asshole certainly suits you, fucker."

His hand made its way up your neck, and you were pressed against the wall. The grip was firm, but not enough to choke you — it came more as a warning than anything else.

"I already told you to stop using that foul language with me," he ordered, low voice simmering with genuine irritation.

"Then make me," you challenged him, hoping for this torture to be over as fast as possible.

Just fucking kill me already.

His blunt blade fell with a thud on the floor, and you were confused for a moment, wondering if he really wouldn't give you the kindness of a quick demise. Did he plan on choking you to death?

Did he hate you that much?

His other hand came up, but before you could do anything to try to resist — which would be nothing but a futile attempt at survival, given that Nanami was physically much stronger than you —, his fingers snaked their way through the back of your hair, tugging it at the roots. 

His mouth clashed against yours, all teeth, tongue, anger, and hunger, and instantly every nerve in your body flared up with a raging fiery ember you hadn't felt in years. All the pent-up resentment, hurt, and desire you had for Nanami swirled together in your gut, guiding your hands up his hair, as you also pulled on it intently, robbing him of a gasp.

You intertwined your tongue against his, and he unceremoniously bullied his own inside your mouth, leaving no crevice unexplored, as his hand on your neck descended towards your waist, where he clenched his fingers with a vicious grip. You whimpered against his lips, and he grunted in return, pushing his body on yours. His throbbing growing cock could be felt, even through both of your clothes, as he pressed it right against the edge of your pants.

When you finally parted after what seemed like a not-long-enough eternity, you huffed and panted, and albeit less than you, he was panting too.

"I fucking… hate you…" you gnarled, glaring into his eyes. The hazel-brown gaze you once adored was now clouded and dark, like the muddy waters of a deep lake.

"Shut the fuck up," Nanami groaned back, strongly cupping your cunt with his large hand. You whimpered in surprise, and he pulled you in harshly for another kiss, letting go of your hair and sex to sink his fingers on the backside of your thighs, pulling them. You immediately jumped up and threw your arms around his shoulders, as he manhandled your legs to have them hooked around him.

He quickly took you both inside the room, and tossed you on the bed, having you gasping in surprise. Before you could catch your breath, he climbed his way on top of you, pressing your body down, and clashed his mouth against yours again, making you actually lightheaded from a lack of air.

You pushed against his chest, grunting uneasy, and surprisingly, he parted his lips from yours.

"What?"

You panted heavily, nearly hyperventilating, and mindlessly rested your hand on his cheek.

"C-can't breathe…" was all you mustered up to say, trying to replenish oxygen back into your system.

His eyes softened so discreetly you nearly missed it, and his cold-ivory enclosure slightly cracked under the affectionate touch he didn't expect.

Nanami had no idea how much he had craved it ever since you parted ways, and hated himself, just a little, for how much such an innocuous gesture stirred his old feelings up, throwing his heart against his chest in a fluttering rush.

I should be over her by now, dammit.

Nanami also brought his hand up your face, and ghosted over your cheek for a second before sliding his fingers delicately down over it.

You also weren't prepared for that, and your chest tightened all over your heavy heart as you remembered your first kiss.

The way he'd cup your face in his hands.

 So delicate, so lovely.

This touch, at this very moment, felt like a painful reminder of everything you had lost.

"Kento…" you cooed, voice strained in your throat, with all the things you were sure you'd never say.

He hummed your name in return, and kissed you while sinking your body against the mattress. This kiss was different, as his lips brushed gently over yours, and his tongue tenderly teased over the seam of your mouth. You welcomed him in, and you both explored these deep waters tentatively, as he upped the intensity after each stroke of your tongues against each other.

He tasted like whiskey, and bread, and the tainted love left behind as nothing but a reminiscence of less grueling days. You couldn't help but feel robbed by him.

You both had been missing out on this for all these fucking years.

"Why did you have to go?" you asked, pulling back from him, a tinge of anger to your cadence, and another of pain in your face.

"Why did you have to stay?" he spat back at you, equal parts saddened and resentful.

His mouth made its way to your neck, and you gasped with the sensation of his warm breath mingled with saliva against your skin, as he licked and bit his way around.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away, and your eyes burned with the prickling sensation of tears that wouldn’t come. You were starved for his touch, his smell, his body, even if this was the murderer of your students, of your friends.

In your head, you felt like digging a hole and throwing yourself in it, to wallow in the misery of realizing that you were about to fuck the murderer of people you loved, and that it felt good.

A pool of heat and fire shot down your insides as your heartbeats throbbed in between your legs.

You hated yourself, and on top of it all, hated Nanami. 

Hated that you couldn't help but still love him, even after all he had done.

This was the setting tension in between the both of you, the two extremes of hate and love pulling against each other, all while the tug of war rope refused to snap to either side.

He pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, and you undid his shirt, unzipping his pants. He unzipped you too, and quickly enough, took off your pants along with your panties with a single sharp tug.

Back to rough, but not entirely, it seemed.

His hand glided against your thigh and his fingertips slipped over your entrance, getting completely glazed by your already dripping arousal. He grunted, a guttural and intense sound deep in his chest, giving you another bite on the soft skin of your neck.

"Hate me?" Nanami asked, teasing his digits over your cunt, "doesn't seem like it."

You managed to scoff at him, which would prove to be a mistake.

"Go fuck yours-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he dove two of his fingers inside knuckle-deep, without any hint of a warning, forcefully stretching your walls around them. You immediately let out a whimper so pitiful you wondered if that was really your voice.

He seemed satisfied at that. Perhaps, even elated.

"Good girl," Nanami whispered right beside your ear, nibbling against your earlobe with his teeth, sending shivers down your spine. He began sliding his fingers in and out, and you bucked down against his hand while moaning and mewling, walls sheathing his digits as he finger-fucked your cunt, neglecting your clit as punishment for calling him a condescending prick earlier.

His palm rucked against your dripping folds, echoing wet slaps all throughout the room, as your arousal kept pooling on his palm.

He mumbled softly against your skin, bringing his mouth up to brush against yours, "hate… you still love me."

You instantly drew one of your hands to slap him in the face for this hurtful teasing, but he had quick reflexes — quicker than yours. He dodged himself back as your hand hit the empty sheets, and edged his fingers to hit against your soft spot, pressing it so violently, you let out a strained cry from the shooting overstimulation pain.

"Ah- Shit!" you shouted, face all scrunched up.

"Can't you behave for once?" he chided, "why is it so hard for you to j-just-“ 

Nanami’s breath hitched in his throat as he grunted, unable to finish his sentence.

You shut him up the only way you could think — grabbing his cock harshly over his boxers. It was extremely effective, and he immediately humped his length against your hand, while lowly groaning.

With trembling hands and a violent snap, you haphazardly pulled his boxers down to his mid-thighs, as his fingers kept mercilessly bullying their way inside you, sending vibrating waves all throughout your body with every thrust.

“Stop… telling me… ah-aaah-“ you rolled your eyes back with a loud moan, struggling to keep a train of coherent thought, gnarling your next words,  “what to… ah- do!”

His cock sprang out, slapping against his belly. The tip was already flustered red, leaking with pre-cum, and had a long, prominent vein on the underside.

To punish him back for the roughness, you grabbed his length with one hand, and with the other, pressed the middle of your palm against his flushed tip, glistening his arousal around it with enough force to jump across the divide between intense pleasure and painful overstimulation.

Nanami cursed with a feral voice through his teeth, immediately biting the side muscles of your neck with no semblance of restraint, making sure to leave a purple remnant of pain etched on your skin.

“Ah- ouch! Fuck!” you spat out, tightening your grip around his cock, but weakened enough to release the tight pressure against his tip, letting him fuck into your hand. His hips bucked erratically, and his lips pressed a quick kiss right where he had previously bitten.

He couldn't help it.

Suddenly, Nanami stopped his rutting fingers to press his thumb against your already throbbing clit. That instantly had you seeing stars as you cursed loudly in between moans and grunts, drawing your free hand to his head, ferociously tugging at his hair, as heat pooled in your lower abdomen like fiery embers of coal.

He grabbed your arm, pulling it away from his shaft, and removed his fingers from your walls, having them clenching around nothing at such a sudden emptiness. You began complaining, only to have your voice cut short by his tongue slipping its way inside your mouth, in a sloppy, wet kiss. 

Parting from you, Nanami’s eyes were glassy, and you were absolutely sure your gaze must’ve looked just as hazy as his.

In a brief moment, before you realized it, he slid himself down, and unceremoniously lapped at your already sensitive clit with his warm tongue, hot breath tickling against your sensitive skin.

Both of your hands descended towards his hair, brushing over his golden and now messy locks more tenderly than you expected. Nanami suddenly shivered and moaned into your cunt, edging his tongue down your folds and back, eyes fluttering shut the moment he tasted you entirely.

He felt a tinge of pain clench at his chest, realizing this was the taste he had missed out on for all that time — your taste, which would surely ruin him forever.

Nanami’s pain, however, was quick to turn into outrage, as he began sucking on your clit relentlessly, eliciting the most animalistic sounds you had ever uttered.

You instinctively tried backing away, and he pulled on your thighs, holding them with such a violent force that his hand was sure to leave an engraving of his digits over your plush skin.

Nanami was intent on dragging this orgasm out of you by any means necessary.

You had never given him anything he wanted from you — be it the company to fight against Jujutsu High or the same unwavering loyalty he had for you. So this was something he’d take.

If you wouldn’t be by his side, then the least you could do was to cum for him so fervently, he’d be sure to ruin you just as much as he felt like you had ruined him. You owed him that, or so Nanami thought.

“Aaah-- Kento! S-slow d-… fuck!”

You came with a thunderous shout, jolting your hip forward as your thighs tightened with inhuman strength to the sides of his head. Nanami made sure to deliciously lick your way down from your high, applying such a precise and perfect pressure on your clit that you could’ve wept from sheer satisfaction.

After your legs went limp, he slowly climbed his way back to you, pressing kisses all over your body, leaving a ghost of heat wherever his mouth traveled. When Nanami finally reached your face, he put his forearms against your sides, hands over your shoulders, caging you in, as he pressed his mouth against yours in a slow kiss.

You were floating in a calm sea, salty waves caressing your body every time they passed through, and it felt cozy. Inviting, even. As he parted his lips from yours, Nanami gazed into your eyes in the way he used to.

For a second, you got catapulted into the past, and the orange sun that warmed your cheeks through the leaves as you kissed for the first time seemed to shine its rays over again.

With his arms around you, the nonsensical feeling of being protected washed over your heart.

“Come with me,” he whispered with a sultry, husky voice. 

“Kento…” you cooed, sighing, wanting nothing more than for this moment to extend for infinity.

But it couldn’t.

You didn’t go with him, so many years ago.

And wouldn’t go now, either.

That wasn’t how it worked for the both of you.

Nanami understood it, and what seemed like another crack against his unwavering walls had formed the moment his brows furrowed above his eyes.

“Fine, then,” he said, with a tinge of genuine hurt to his voice.

You parted your thighs to accommodate his hips, and he obliged, guiding his hand down to align his cock against your entrance. You bent and hooked your legs around him, pulling him in, and as the tip of his length got pressed against your dripping cunt, he gasped slightly over your lips.

Nanami sunk in slowly, going through your already relaxed ring. However, it apparently wasn’t relaxed enough, or perhaps he was just too big, because you could feel every inch of stretching his cock made against your walls as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt.

His mouth fell open and you exhaled a moan into it, breaths mingling together. You two drank each other in. Nanami pressed his forehead against yours, and you both held each other’s gaze, as he pulled your left wrist above your head, holding it there, pushing you down the mattress by your waist with his other hand.

After a moment for you to take him in, Nanami began rolling his hips into you, while his hand kept bruisingly pressing your wrist against the mattress. You could feel his balancing act of trying to love you and wanting to hurt you at the same time.

You weren’t so different from him in that sense, though. Your nails got dragged down his back with abrasive force, and for a second, you considered drawing blood from him. He grunted, and you saw the spark of cold-hearted anger flash through his now dimmed eyes.

You both wanted to love each other just as much as you wanted to hurt each other.

In a more forgiving universe, perhaps, he’d hold your hand tenderly, intertwining his fingers in yours. Maybe you two would be in the kitchen as he showed you one of his favorite bread recipes, and share quiet moments of understanding companionship when remembering those who had left this world too soon.

But this wasn’t that universe, unfortunately.

He was to die, and you were to carry out his execution. 

Except you couldn’t, because even if you still tried to cling on to any sliver of morals, even if his life was something yours alone to take, the mere thought of a world without Nanami was far worse than the reality of a world in which he was a murderer.

You insisted on fighting a losing game, and much to no one’s surprise, you lost. 

Good riddance to me, I suppose.

His grunts came hitched and stuttered against your mouth as he was now rutting himself into you, biting your lower lip hard enough to almost pierce the skin with his teeth. You moaned loudly, dragged around with pain and pleasure, the combo that seemed to summarize the gist of your relationship.

He let go of your wrist and descended his hand without a warning towards your already overworked clit, glazing his thumb against the ring of arousal you were leaving around him before starting to make circles around your nub. Your moans came out cracked and faltering, as you tried to resist the instinctive urge of fleeing that the overstimulation was eliciting.

“Give me… one more,” Nanami groaned lowly against your cheek, planting multiple kisses down the side of your face and your chin. His hair — which had already fallen from its usual slick arrangement — brushed against your fluttering eyelids, momentarily weaving golden sand colors over your your vision, and you drove both your hands to the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss. 

You could kiss him like this forever. 

You actually wanted to, at that moment.

To his request, you nodded, and this was probably the first time you acquiesced to any request Nanami had ever made to you. 

Fulfilled, his thrusts and his finger over your clit became increasingly erratic, as he was now moaning your name against your mouth. You pushed your tongue over his, sliding your hands up his head to tug at his roots, and that was all it took to tip him over the edge.

Nanami came with a muffled groan, having your tongue still pushed inside his mouth, and kept pumping himself inside you trying to keep the comedown at bay. His thick, white cum got glazed all over inside you, and the slaps of flesh and skin began sounding ever more wet than they already were.

You weren’t so far off, with your walls fluttering around him, and he noticed it, keeping his now trembling thumb pressed and circling intently over your clit. With one perfectly applied nudge on your sensitive bud, Nanami finally pulled you over the edge along with him.

Some tears began pooling on the edges of your lashes, and all your emotions — anger, sadness, grief, longing, and a particular brand of despair you cultivated during the last decade — came crashing down as he wrenched your second orgasm from you.

Your body convulsed under him, fluttering walls expelling his softening cock out, as you shouted and grunted into his mouth. You didn’t know if you were more furious at yourself for still loving him, at him for loving you, or at Jujutsu Society for jumbling you both like pawns to be tossed around until you two were broken beyond repair.

Angry at them for sending the young out to have their spirits crushed too soon. For all the deaths no one got to mourn because there was too much work, too little time, and the wounded were always left behind to fend for themselves.

Just like you were.

And just like Nanami was.

You sat at the edge of the bed while putting your shirt back on, and looked back at Nanami, who had his buttoned shirt open over his chest.

“Are you still resolute on your decision of not coming with me?” Nanami asked, with a tinge of eagerness. Or maybe it was just your imagination.

You pondered for a moment, and knew exactly what the answer to that question was.

“Yes. I’m not coming with you.”

For a second, you caught the faintest glimpse of the person he used to be. Something aching to genuine disappointment.

The longing that flashed through him, unfortunately, was quick to go, as he began buttoning his shirt down, averting his gaze elsewhere.

“Why?”

“Because I’d hate myself for the rest of my life if I did,” you stated, sighing before continuing, “and it’s not because I can’t kill you or because I love you that I don’t despise you. You crossed an uncrossable line.”

He pursed his lips, and almost felt regretful for the path he chose.

Almost, since regret now would come ten years too late.

“You can’t go back. They will know you let me go,” Nanami remarked. Be it from him or from looking around this house, Jujutsu High would surely hold you accountable for this — for willingly letting the curse user and murderer, Nanami Kento, escape their wrath.

“I know that,” you replied, a tad bit more defeated than you expected, “that’s why I’m fleeing to Hokkaido.”

He sighed and looked at you. You held his gaze, feeling a little hint of anxiety at what he seemed to be simmering under the surface.

With a warmer expression — or as warm as he could muster it up to be  —, Nanami spoke again. 

“I truly want you to come with me. You’d be safer. We’d… be by each other’s side.”

For a moment, you faltered, open lips with no sound coming out of them. Blinking yourself back to Earth, you asked, “you mean together?”

Nanami kept silent, but nodded, waiting for your response.

He wasn’t just asking for you to come with him, but to be with him.

You wanted to. You did. Something Nanami never knew was just how much you wanted to follow him when he asked you the same thing, so many years ago.

But even though you wholeheartedly loved him with every minute part of your being, your loyalty lied elsewhere.

Not with him, but with the people he had killed.

Well, at least that was the comfortable lie you were capable of living with.

It would destroy you to realize the loyalty you had for the murderer of the people you loved. 

In the end, even if you weren’t a teenager anymore, you were just as much a hostage to your feelings as you had always been.

The ticking took a long time, but the bomb eventually went off.

With a decade’s old delay.

“I… just can’t. I can’t.”

Nanami reclined himself against the wall over which the bed rested, closing his eyes as he supported the back of his head on it. 

He never told you, but this moment broke his heart all over again.

He felt pathetically small.

Guess we get what we deserve, after all.

“You really do have a taste for penitence,” Nanami noted, his voice barely concealing the bitterness that tainted those words.

You scoffed, getting up on your feet, ready to leave as the first rays of sunshine began bleeding through the thick curtains that covered the bedroom’s window.

“Go to hell.”

He chuckled, a sound you hadn’t heard in a very long time. However, it sounded off-key. Wrong.

Sad.

“We’re already here.” 

At the end of it all, he wasn’t wrong.

You were doomed to always keep leaving each other.

If only the world had been a little kinder.

But kindness, it seemed, wasn’t in the cards for you.

End notes: I’m silently screaming. Oh my, this one took way longer than expected, but I enjoyed the writing process during every step of the way (I mean, if that wasn’t evident already from the fact that I made a playlist for this 😂). I forgot how much I was a sucker for gut wrenching angst. Hope you enjoyed it too! 🦉

-

Tag list: @actuallysaiyan @diogodxlot @jadedjane @redlikerozez @voiceless9000

@marvelousfanfictionbitch @kentocalls @ohhheymessa @magical-girl-b @simp-manhwa

@codenamesongbird

[bowieandqueen11]

Sanji With A Clingy Reader Would Include...

Request: OH BABY telling about one piece is like unlocking a whole second heart of mine i have fully for that anime and manga and live action. and so, if you ever decided of course, you writing something similar to something you did on marvel once and sanji with reader that has no personal space and is touchy would be amazing. but also... kissing zoro is great to, if you ever decided? anyway! HOPE YOU LOVE IT (one piece i mean), and if not ignore me UwU

Ooh yess babes this is so SWEET!! :3 I LOVED IT omg hello to my latest obsession not me ordering the first collection of the manga

This was really sweet and fun to do, but I did stay up all night writing it so all comments are much appreciated!

Warning: slightly spicy, some mentions of fighting!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @fanpageknight.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Look at this man. Seriously, look at this man with his little bottom lip bite and eyes like the sun shines heavily out of them and tell me he would be anything less than absolutely madly, heart wrenchingly, soul crushingly enthralled with a clingy reader??? That's right you can't take the l on this one.

It all started that day when the three of you ended up shipwrecked on that sad sack excuse of a rock. When you and Sanji huddled on one side of the forsaken isle to stay away from the terrifying Pirate Zeff. His hands had shaken as he drew them up to his chest, but he mustered the nerves to string open the sack Zeff had thrown at his feet. Once he had counted out the cans, he offered all the food to you.

He wanted you to stay alive far more than himself. Ever since you had landed on his ship he had been smitten, and his weary heart would beat its last under this smothering sun as long as you would live on for the both of them.

To keep him calm: to stop his gasping, tortured heaves as he tried his best not to writhe in panic at the thought of never stepping back on safe land again, you would spent most of those 85 days sitting over the cragged edges. Sanji couldn't tear his eyes away from peering down at the gushing shards of stone below that seemed to rip up in tides and tear for his swinging feet; to try and distract him from sniffling any longer, your hand would tentatively creep over the rock until it landed flatly, and unceremoniously on top of his own. His fingers flexed beneath your own, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he folded them upwards, giving your hand a shaking squeeze: a dutiful promise, a flitting confession of love, that you just happened not to feel in your ruminations of the circumstances.

In fact, he asked you that night, in an uncharacteristically quiet and bashful voice, if you would keep his nightmares away by holding him like his mother used to. You felt terrible: you were so stunned that for a moment you stood with the last piece of mouldy bread you had in your hand in shocked silence. Poor Sanji thought you were about to reject him outright: throw what little he had left of his heart - that he had so carefully lifted out and placed in his hands to offer to you, only to have it thrown back to his feet in the usual ridicule he got for his love. His bottom lip began to tremble, until you nearly knocked him onto his bottom with how fast you dropped everything and flew over to lock him in a tight hug, not minding the fact that your shoulder was growing wetter and wetter despite the brewing rain each time Sanji buried his snivelling head against it.

So you would let him rest safely in the bracket of your arms: his left cheek resting in the warm stretch between your collar bone and your neck, his right hand draped leisurely around your waist as you told him stories of pirates and treasure: of the Deep Blue and tropical fish that shone like bursts of fragmented starlight every time their fins graced the water. Although he would groan any time you removed your hand from where you were stroking the wet strands of his hair back from his forehead, it was quickly replaced with wonderment as you would point up at a cluster of stars and whisper excitedly: 'look, there's some now!'

He had never been afraid of nights ever since that moment, not when the stars were still out and he could trace with the butt of his cigarettes the fish you had drawn specially for him in the skies. It was like a secret message: a lover's reminder that he was never alone. That you were always with him. That your beauty - your light, it shone everywhere, no matter where he was.

It was the first time he had kissed you, two forgotten children lost underneath the dripping crevice of your little hideaway. As your belly began to rise and fall underneath his elbow, and he believed you had exhausted yourself out after trying to make him feel better, he dared to dart up from your shoulder and press his lips firmly against your cheek. It had been quick, almost gliding past time like a dolphin leaping up out of the water, but it had meant so much to him that he curled up into a ball in your side and flushed a bright cerise, having to shove his fist into his mouth to stop his manic giggling from waking you up.

But you weren't asleep, and as Sanji settled back into your neck with a smile bright enough to rival the shine of buttercup petals, you swore as he began to drift off in the first peaceful dream he had had in years that one day you would return the favour, but in full.

The two of you were thick as thieves growing up, to the point where Zeff became so distracted by your antics that he often tried to separate the two of you by making you work the floor and Sanji either in the kitchens, or off fishing at the docks. Ten seconds later though, he'd be kicking through the kitchen doors again to find you leaning on the kitchen counter next to an eager faced Sanji, whose to busy to register Zeff's shouting. Instead he places the spoon to your lips, having spent half of lunch service prep cooking you a brand new recipe he had spent the whole night creating out of a medley of your favourite foods. He subconsciously licks his bottom lip, the tension in the room felt by the other chefs who try to carry on washing pans and cutting vegetables enough to put everyone on edge as Sanji refused to look anywhere but your lips. Holding his hand under your chin, his dipped eyes were broken by a sudden grin as a loud 'mmhhh' left your mouth and you chewed in sweet bliss.

Still ignoring Zeff's increasingly erratic rant, as Sanji goes to start cleaning up his pan you slide down to stand behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around your back and jutting your chin into his shoulder blade like a baby koala. You can tell he's laughing silently by the way his shoulders shake against you, but all he does is pull up your hand from his belly button to press sweet, dainty kisses up and down the lengths of your fingers, before dropping it down to press your palm flatly against his heart.

'I think that might be your greatest dish yet, buttercup!'

'From you, that means everything my precious heart.'

'Why do you call me that?', you murmur, refusing to lift your lips from his shirt.

'Well my sweet love, why do you call me buttercup? I mean, I always know I smell of butter and the likes-'.

He's distracted by your snort against the side of his neck, but the two of you are too love-strikingly embarrassed to say anything again. Even if neither of you could see the warm peach rushing up both your cheeks, Zeff could. He could also hear the padding thuds of Sanji's heart as he gripped his fingers that almost imperceptibly bit tighter around your hand, and he found himself sighing at how oblivious you two idiots were.

Sanji is definitely just as clingy as you, if not more so. You've definitely met your match in this man. I mean, any time you're out on the floor, handing out bread to tables and scanning the room to check if there were any patrons you may have to throw out by the scuff of their collars later, his eyes are trained on yours. He leans against the banisters, not even trying to remotely hide how obviously he's tracing your path with a dumbstruck, lit up smile. If you're in the kitchens, desperately trying to bite your tongue and not tear Zeff a new one as he chops his hands together and rushes you to plate up? He's sliding up to your side in an instant, throwing scathing looks at the man while trying to help you spoon thyme onto your bass, nuzzling the side of his head into yours encouragingly. If you have any free time at all? Sanji is fast on your heels, darting after you like someone's firing shots at his dress shoes, as if you have his heart tied to a string on your wrist as he seeks out whatever nook you're going to relax in. It doesn't matter if you're at the bar, watching the docks, or trying to hide from Zeff in one of the cupboards in the pantry: Sanji is squatting down and grunting as he shoves himself in right next to you. He sits criss cross, only satisfied when at least one of his knees is resting heavily over yours, and he has full access to watch what you're reading over the side of your neck.

He only fully settles, though, if you touch him in some way. He genuinely will begin mewling once your hand reaches over to brush your knuckles over his jawline, or your hand finds itself guided to bunch itself up in his hair. One time, he guided your hand into his lap, and you began to absentmindedly stroke your pointer finger along the seam of his inner thigh. Thank goodness you had your head buried in a book one of the pirate crews had come to swap some dried meats with you for, because it took every muscle in Sanji's body twitching: every finger clenching and unclenching into his knee until he drew blood not to knock you flat right there and then and kiss you like there was no tomorrow.

He gets a MASSIVE nosebleed - so gushing, in fact, that he tries to reassure you he's fine as you hold him by the elbows and lead his tilted back head and pinched nose down to Zeff for some help.

It becomes a very major recurring issue every time he looks at you. He makes sure to carry a handkerchief in his breast pocket from then on.

God, if he didn't love you more than anything in all the seas. If you weren't the only one that he let see past his charming nature: if you weren't the only person left in his life that truly could recognise the young boy left in his eyes, in his gait, in his smile, in his dreams. That little kid on that great big ship, the one who had found you stowed away behind one of the barrels of rum, and instead of calling for the crew had taken your trembling hand and led you into the kitchens, introducing you as his newest sous chef. That same kid, who stood beside you and held your hand so gently, so heartbreakingly gently under his as he guided you through lessons of chopping onions and sautéing garlic, breaking out into long strings of rushed, praising French every time you got it right. The same one, who would frown as if he were the one who had been hurt any time you burnt your hands or sliced your fingers. Who would unravel the knot at the back of his apron, and tug it over his head to carefully place it over yours.

'This always brings me luck', he would say as his fingers daintily tucked the strings underneath your shirt collar. 'But I don't need it anymore, because you've brought me all the luck and happiness a man could ever dream of, my cherie.'

The same kid who would tip toe out of his bed to sneak down to your hammock, crawling in and burying himself underneath your blankets where you slept in the brig, telling you fantastical stories about his mother until you fell sound asleep. He would watch you from where he lay on his side, hands folded by your head, as if you had hung every star in the wide skies. He would brush his fingers over the edge of your cheek and curl up beside you, wishing that every minute of every day of the rest of his life could be spent with you.

Yeah, smitten wasn't enough to cover it. Only destiny could be raw enough to draw the two of you to each other, Sanji always thought.

As teenagers, you would end every shift outside, sitting on the wonky boards of one of the jutted docks. Just sitting side by side, as you always wanted to be, pretending you weren't playing a game of chicken as the two of you teased and pressed and glanced your fingers over each other's, leaning back and looking up at the stars. Sanji always appreciated the better chance it gave him: shrouded in naught by wisps of moonlight and the rare flashing neon of ship string lights, to take you in as much as he could. You didn't mind the fact that he spent the whole time staring over at you. In fact, if you hadn't been so lovestruck, you might have found the courage to tear your head away from the horizon to meet the look of gut-wrenching devotion that always seemed to pour out of his eyes and beam only on you. It always felt like warm sunlight, sitting next to him, and so you finally dared a chance at grabbing his fingers and intertwining them between your own, pretending it was because of the sea chill spraying a fine mist over your legs.

Again, the squeeze he gave your hand was almost, almost imperceptible, but you felt it this time. And you could feel the look of enduring devotion he pierced into your skin, a warm tingle washing like a spring tide through your tired body.

He always knew. He always knew that if he had stayed on that rock, he would have been content to. Happy, even. Because he would have been with you.

'I love you', he said without words. He gave your hand another squeeze. 'I'm going to love you forever. No matter how many lifetimes. No matter who I am. I'm always going to find you, and I'm always going to love you.'

His voice nearly made you jump, surprising you at how it started with his usual buttery smoothness, before cracking with a thick gulp as his words trailed of. 'Never leave without me.'

'I promise, as long as you don't leave without me.'

He shakes his head. 'You never leave me. Not even for a moment.'

Sometimes, when the two of you are older, he still comes stealing into your room at night, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as his lips wobble into a frightened frown. Turns out, as he draws the covers back and comes reaching in for you, he had another nightmare that pirates had come to steal you away from him again. With an aching sigh for how stricken he looked, how desolate, you let him claw at your shirt and bury his head into the side of your neck until the rest of the world melted away.

He kissed you again, that night. When the feel of his legs strewn familiarly between your own began to burn against his skin, and the weight of hand perched over his thrumming heart became too heavy to bear in secret. With nothing but the light streaming like shards of pearly stars through the porthole to betray a moment so special, so longed for, Sanji let his eyelashes flutter close as he slowly... slowly pressed his lips against your cheek again.

This time, his eyes widened in shock as the feeling of your hand gripping at his jaw and turning his face straight on to your own. Before he can even open his mouth in confusion, the sweet pressure of your lips pressed against his top one. For a moment, Sanji doesn't move an inch: doesn't even breath, not even processing that the thing he’s spent every moment of his waking and sleeping life wishing for ever since he found you on that boat was actually happening, right here right now. He tries really hard to stop his whole body from shaking, as his silky lashes finally falter shut against the top of your cheeks and he tries to focus his whole attention on the way your plush lip seems to press so perfectly against his own.

When he finally pulls away, he lets out a loud 'OW' as he pinches his arm.

'What did you do that for!?'

'I had to double check this wasn't a dream, my sweets!'

And then he's on you again, like a ravished man gasping for air. God, he wasn't sure if soulmates were real, but when your top lip pulled down against his, and he could feel the thud of your heart synch against his own beneath the tips of his fingers, if he didn't know that he was yours.

He stays in your room a lot more often after that, using it as an excuse for you to help him button up his shirt during sleepy mornings, smiling at the feel of your fingers as they knocked against the muscles of his chest. It was also his favourite part of the day - the good morning kiss the two of you shared before you raced down to be at your shifts before Zeff decided to knock your heads together.

One time you forgot to give him one, too distracted by one of the sous chefs busting into your room with a bloodied nose and a chipped front tooth, whistling through the gap as he begged you to come down to the main foyer and help him break out a fist fight that had started between two gangs of rival pirates. The pout on Sanji's face that day was enough to make even the most bounty-heavy pirate's knees tremble. Every other chef steered way clear of his station, watching the arch of his back and the jaw in his muscle jump as he busied himself by frying his steak of tuna, so gutted at the loss of just one kiss. Not angry, no: just grief stricken, because this man seriously just adores you that much.

When you finally get your lunch break, the first thing you do is throw your napkin down on the kitchen ground and grab Sanji by his suit collar, enjoying the surprise tilt of his head as he drops his spoon onto his serving tray and allows you to lead his feet backwards to the fire exit. As soon as he's outside, you slam him gently against the wooden beams of the Baratie restaurant, and kissed him silly to make up for it. His look of trusting confusion suddenly melt into jumping heart eyes when your knee slides up between his thighs to try and pin him in place. His breathing comes out in harsh, shallow gasps between ferocious kisses, and you have to press him back against the wall every time he comes arching forward to follow your head for even more kisses. No, this was about you making him feel good. And by goodness, as your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips and tentatively ran over his front teeth, if he wasn't two seconds away from falling to his knees right there and then.

When you let him go, he slides down the wall like putty until he's sitting with legs stretched out and both his suit and hair a ruffled mess. He's literally never been more deliriously happy in his whole life.

Your favourite time of the day is when the restaurant closes, and the two of you finally have the kitchens to yourselves. Once you've tossed your aprons back onto the rack with a tired sigh, the only thing that can cheer you up is the sound of Sanji kicking his chair back with the toe of his shoe, and the sight of him beckoning you over to him with that tilted head and pearly beam of his. Mmh, how safe you feel, how loved as you collapse down to sit on his knees, and he tucks you in between the brackets of his arms in a vice so tight it could match any Marine knot.

You take one of his hands off the pen he was holding, turning his palm round to face you so you could fiddle with the rings he was wearing. You draw one up, curling his finger before your eyes, before slotting one off and sliding it onto your own ring finger. It was the one his father had given him: one he so loathed to wear, and yet felt guilt bore down too heavily on his conscious to ever take it off. You turned the one on top of it, one you know Zeff had given him after his first day working at the Baratie, and you smiled at the memory.

'You know', you start, still fiddling with his hand, feeling him shift his thighs as you pressed a gentle kiss on the pointer finger you were currently grasping onto. 'I may just have to keep this one.'

'Oh yeah?', he says dreamily, and you could feel his grin growing as he hid his burning face in the nape of your neck. 'Don't worry sweetheart. One day, once I find the perfect one, I'll give you a ring of your own.'

The two of you sneak out and share cigarettes out the back door a lot, where Sanji steps forward and kisses you like a man possessed every time you pinch the stub from out of his mouth and draw it along your bottom lip teasingly. When you try to get him to go back in, he just wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, spinning you around to stop you from leaving him alone. Laughing, you try to shove him off, swatting at the hands that form a tight clasp over your belly button, until his large fingers finally slide down to hold your waist. You glance behind you, smirking at the way his eyes are tightly shut in euphoria as ducks down, chest nearly enveloping in his desperation to reach your face again. His kisses become sloppier: smoke stained as they leave wet trails up your jaw, before he finally gives in and tries to make you laugh one last time by nibbling at the lobe of your ear.

Whenever he has a fight with Zeff, you have to hold him afterwards. The feel of your fingers curling the hair at the nape of his neck, or rubbing soothing circles into the sore muscles of his shoulders stops the furious darts of air from flaring his nostrils almost immediately.

Man has blaring heart eyes 100% whenever he's in a fight with rowdy customers, and you get to kick the flashy knife out of the last one's hand before the pirate could launch straight for Sanji's neck. He tilts his head at you with those amazed eyes, a gentle smile growing almost shyly on his face like a secret wink, before he throws his now empty plate at the pirate trying to sneak up behind your back. The crash echoes out through the booth area, a cry so furious: so full of rage that anyone would try and dare hurt you, that it makes all the remaining pirate crews crawl out towards the door on their hands and knees.

Stitching each other up afterwards is a motherfcking mess though, that Zeff straight up just abandons all hope of being able to use his kitchen. With a defeated rub of his pounding temples, he lets the door slam shut on his heel because he just can't deal with the two of you. He'd much rather pick up a brush and start sweeping bits of crushed and splattered asparagus off the floors than have to watch you to battle it out in a stiff competition of who could be more sickeningly, maddingly in love with the other. Between you standing between Sanji's entrapping thighs, closing you in tighter so you could have full access to kiss his bobbing Adam's apple as you use a rag to swipe bits of dry sauce off his neck, and him throwing his head back and whimpering, Zeff was going to go insane. Even worse, as soon as you're finished, Sanji's reaching between your fingers to lick split consomme off your nose.

The two of you are literally insufferable, and if every one apart from Zeff doesn't find it the cutest thing I-

When Luffy comes and wrangles Sanji into joining his crew, the chef's first thought is to be distraught. He seeks you out straight away, nearly breaking some poor fisherman's pole as he tries to hurdle over it and grip onto your shoulders, making you drop the barrel of dried meats you were carrying from Luffy onto the planks and watching Luffy nearly dangle off the edge of his ship to stop it from rolling into the ocean.

'Y/n- I- I can't go!'

'You're hardly scared!'

'I'm not scared of going, I'm terrified of going without you!'

You let him pour his heart out for a moment, before stopping his rambling, near sobbing mess of a sentence by bopping the tip of his nose. You giggle, swiping some hair from his forehead. 'Sanji, Luffy asked me to come first. I promised I wouldn't go without you, and I meant it.'

You manage to unlatch his twitching hand from your left shoulder, and give it an almost imperceptible squeeze. The tears that threatened to fall from his eyes finally cascade down, although he's so relieved that he's smiling through the blurriness. You swipe them away with your free thumb, finally, after all these years, feeling the squeeze of your hand that Sanji gives you back, before he envelops you in a breath taking hug.

'Awww, you guys are so sweet!', Luffy calls out from where he's hanging by his sandal off the railing of his ship. 'But could someone give me a hand before my hat falls into the waves? That would not be very cool.'

The first thing the two of you do once you're on The Going Merry is to find your bunk. Sanji isn't very subtle when he kicks your door shut with his heel, and comes scampering towards you like an upended sand crab, pinching for you until he's hefted you up over his shoulder and has unceremoniously landed you in your shared hammock. He's quick to jump in, straddling you as the hammock sways back and forth with the commotion.

He nearly starts crying again when he sees a flash of silver poke out from underneath your neckline; he grazes his hand over the chain, recognising it as his father's ring you had taken months ago. The one he had hated so much. The one you had tried to save him from. A small piece of him. A weight you tried to bear for him. A reminder of how much he was loved.

A confused Zoro, not realising there are new crew members on board, follows the sound of Sanji's voice crooning out how much he adores you, and how he loves you more than every star in the sky, down past the window on your bedroom door. Let's just say, he's not very impressed when he catches sight of the hammock swinging wildly from side to side, and an array of clothes thrown out and discarded in a mess around it.

[w0rmm1lk]

I saw that you were receiving requests and I was wondering if you could write a Bakugou x male reader angst (both adults and married if possible, but it doesn't necessarily have to be.) where they There's an argument and the reader leaves the house at night and comes back just a week later (because Bakugou said some bad things. I don't think he would do that but I love angst where the character almost literally has to kneel down and ask the reader for forgiveness 😭😭😭) I'm sorry if it's too detailed and forgive my English, I'm Brazilian and I'm using Google Translate ☠️... (oh! and with a happy ending please🥺)

Yayyy first request hehe

Summary: reader and bakugo got into a small argument about bakugo not being home enough due to his hero work, bakugo being himself the argument escalated into something worse.

reader: Male

other details: Hero!Bakugo, Readers job not mentioned (can be read as hero reader or other). It is mentioned that reader has a sibling but details about them are not specified.

warnings: angst-(fluff at end), swearing(its bakugo what did you expect) implied married reader and bakugo but not mentioned. Kinda ooc but I tried my best 🥲

You and bakugo had been together for quite some time. You first started the relationship when he was in his second year at UA, but you had known eachother since middle school. So of course you knew eachother very well, and were very close. Or well, as close as you can be with bakugo.

when you first got together he had been quite distant, but you understood. He wasn’t use to this kind of thing, yet it didn’t take him long to adjust. Long story short after he graduated you both ended up moving in together.

you had quickly gotten use to how much bakugo worked. He was so desperate to be the No.1 hero, and of course as his boyfriend/husband you supported him in that. Yet, sometimes you felt that he was more focused on that than you. He was rarely ever home leaving you to do most of the house work, including the laundry, dishes, buying groceries, ect. at first it wasn’t anything to worry about, you were mostly okay with it since you got to stay home most of the time, but sometimes it would get lonley. It was weird… you had been in a relationship for so long and even lived with him yet the house felt so empty and devoid of life. You thought that it was maybe a good idea to bring this up with bakugo. He would understand…right?

You ended up needing to stay up quite late that night waiting for him to return. He always worked overtime just to get his rank higher. He was already in the top ten… why did he worry so much…?

you felt a small jolt of surprise when you heard the front door unlock, sitting up you looked over to see bakugo. Despite being right there he didn’t seem to notice you.

“Katsuki..? Can we talk real quick?” You spoke, trying to seem calm. Despite this your heart was beating like crazy, it felt like some part of you was screaming to not bring up the issues. “Hm? Oh, you’re still awake.” He replied.. yet it seemed quite delayed.

“ah- yeah… but we need to talk.” He looked over with an annoyed expression. “Not right now.” His reply… shocked you to say the least. “Katsuki. It’s important. It’ll be quick I just need to—“ he cut you off with an annoyed sigh. “I said not right now Y/N.”

“This can’t really wait for later—“ he glared. “Do you not get what *not right now* means?” He raised his voice slightly as he spoke, his eyes piercing into your softer gaze. “It’ll be quick—! I swear.” You spoke, hoping that he would take a moment to sit down and hear you out.

he rolled his eyes tilting his head back letting out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” I felt a bit of relief as he accepted. I waited a moment as he sat down on the couch beside me. “The hell do you want? It’s so goddamn late.” Despite him agreeing to speak it was clear how much he didn’t want to.

“i… I was thinking, could you maybe… try spending a bit more time at home…? I know how important your hero work is to you- and I don’t want to stop you from reaching your goal but… we haven’t really spent much time together in the last few months, and— I guess I’ve been kinda lonley…?”

he stared at you, his gaze not breaking for even a second as he spoke. You looked back as you finished, expecting him to understand, but instead you were met with a rather… interesting, expression.

his expression gave off the kinda mood of *are you being serious?*

“that’s what this was about? This is what was so fucking important you just had to talk about it right now?”

what he said… it almost hurt slightly. “What…? What do you mean? I think this is something that’s pretty important.” He rolled his eyes at your response. “Tch, I get how needy you are but I can’t just throw away all my work just for you.”

“what-? I- that’s not what I’m saying-! You’re only ever home at night after I’m asleep and you’re gone once I wake up! I’m not being needy! And asking to see you at least once everyday while living in the same house is not being needy!”

his expression made it clear he was pissed off. “Do you not realise how important my work is? How important it is for me to become no.1? Or does it all not matter to you?!” You stare at him in slight shock, it was weird how much he was misunderstanding the situation.

“that’s not what I mean! I just want to spend more time with you-! If I’m going to be stuck at home all day I at least want to see someone-! Especially you!”

“I can’t just throw away my work to spend my whole day with you! My life doesn’t revolve around you!” He stood up looking down at you.

“Katsuki! That’s not what I mean-! You—“ He cut you off. “If you think I can put everything aside just for you then— you’re mistaken.” There was an awkward silence in the room for just a moment. “You should just go.” You stared at him, your eyes locked onto eachother. “What…?” “Tch— I said you should go-!”

“Katsuki— what are you talking about?!”

“…. You know damn well what I mean.”

the silence started again lasting for a good twenty seconds. You could feel the tears building up yet not spilling. “Fine.” You stood up grabbing your phone and keys walking out the door. You didn’t know what to do but just listen.

you looked at your phone for just a moment before texting your sibling, you didn’t really have anywhere to stay so you hoped they would let you crash at their place for a bit. You stare at the small screen… it was late so you could only hope they were still awake to reply. The amount of relief you felt when your screen lit up and a small notification read

..”sure.”

the next few days passed by so painfully slow. You stared at your phone most the time just hoping to see a notification from Bakugo, some sort of apology, or just a check up. nothing.

it didn’t help that he was quite a popular hero, you couldn’t even watch the news without seeing him.

after a full week past without anything from him, you realise that this was most likley an end to your relationship. All these years thrown away simply because you couldn’t handle not being near him.

you picked up your phone hesitating before sending bakugo a simple message.

“im coming over to grab my stuff. Be there in 20.”

you looked as the message sent, of course he left you on read.

despite it only being a 20 minutes drive, it felt like hours. Your mind was racing, you were nervous, scared to see him. As you walked to the front door you hesitated standing there for a good 30 seconds before finally knocking.

your heart was beating fast as the front door opened. “…come in.” He spoke. He looked more tired than ever, if anything it was a surprise he was even home. You simply nodded, stepping inside. The house looked like shit. You weren’t thinking that to be rude, it genuine looked like bakugo wasn’t doing anything to take care of it.

“y/n i—“ he was cut off staring at you, as you gave him the same glare he sent you a week ago. He averted his eyes like he was holding back tears. “Please— let’s… let’s talk about this….?”

“…what is there to talk about. You made it clear how you feel.”

“i— I had some time to think… a… a lot of time and— i- im… Tch— im fucking sorry okay?!”

you continued to stare at him, though the apology was genuine, you were scared to accept. You didn’t want things to just go back to how they were before.

“please y/n i— I didn’t realise how much I need you.. you’re so god damn important to me… i… took you for granted.”

you stayed silent staring at him. It’s not that you were being rude, you simply didn’t know what to say. You could see the desperation in his eyes but didn’t expect him to start tearing up.

“Y/n… please don’t leave me-! I.. I need you… please…” you watched as he grasped your hands tears pouring down his face as he struggled to even breath.

“im sorry for everything I said I— I had so much time to think and… I didn’t have my priorities straight! So please let’s just… let’s talk over this okay…?”

without a word you lifted a hand up wiping the tears from bakugos eyes before resting a hand on his cheek. “You’ll do better this time right…? It won’t just go back to how it was before…?”

you could see a spark in his eyes now that you finally answered. “I promise-! I— it won’t happen again just— please— don’t leave me…”

you let out a soft sigh. “I won’t leave you. And… I forgive you.” You heald onto his hands gently for just a moment before he pulled you in holding you close.

“i… don’t know how I ever took a man like you for granted.”

(end)

[hihellomy]

SAHSRAU IDEA

WARNING:Religious themes, cult themes, semi existencisl crisis, Boothill leaks(backstory)

Now listen ever since Boothill leaks dropped of his backstory i hated the IPC, and then i went on to learn more about them and damn. If Sahsr were real theyd be dead by now.

Like i take my hatred seriously, i just started Topaz's quest and i was nitpicking the most humbling options and the ones that were most pessimistic towards IPC, i decided to not pull ANY IPC CHARACTER, Topaz, Aventurine, Jade, Im not pulling any of them, f the shield and f the treasure, and my love for Boothill is visible, hes the reason i redownloaded (i was still very much in the tutorial part) and kept the game this time, and while my saving could have been bigger(i got a bit greedy on standard pulls) their at 110 with no pity on both character and weapon banner, i am getting that mf

And thew self aware lenses the Astral express is debating, the IPC arent perfect, yes, but they have friends there, they DID help places, but their grace refused to have anything even remotely positive towards them, should they...cut off all ties? If it pleases their grace maybe, and they cant deny how valid your concerns are, they are bad people, they have disapointed their grace, in fact youd be happy if they got wiped wouldnt you? No, youd want them alive. To torture them, and then... For their last breath will serve as a suficient offering

The IPC meanwhile are sweating bullets, some of them are aware of how rotten they are, some genuanly believe they are good, Topaz unfortunatly falls into the second category, she and Numpy are reaching high and low for only the best treasure for your offerings, pleading, begging you to forgive their actions, and maybe you could, if she felt and never looked back, burning away what was left, Aventurine's hands better off being choped off, its vibrating from panic, hes pacing back and forth, chewing on his glowes, can he even leave if he wanted to? who would he turn to? what would he do then? He may have been blessed by Mama Fengu but you... You are anything else, he doesnt like the IPC either but he knows that if you could, youd travel back in time and give him the coldest responses, and death threats behind that beautiful, safe screen. Jade, Miss Jade, Powerful and in control Jade, knew she was the most screwed from the three, it was no secret, what she did to Aventurine, her slaves, they held their usual expressions but she knew they were smilling on the inside, awaiting your rescuse from her hands, she knows turning over a new lief wasnt an option, youd just laugh at the idea she could reddem what she did, all she can do is call Diamond and seek a solution, what else is there

Boothill, Ive never seen him happier, he cant wait for hes release, for you to come pick him up, get him a brand new gun, give him all those thingamagics to make him stronger, to better make you happy, you care so much about him, hes your favorite, he hopes youll be happy w ith his trial and still choose him, hell do his best there! Oh he can already hear and see it all when the prophecy comes true, for when that stupid, cage breaks.... The wedding bells... The little rascals.... He already has a few names planned! Isnt he so great?

[uniquexusposts]

The best friend - James Beaufort (3)

Click here to go to part 2

Main characters: James Beaufort x reader Genre: fanfiction, fluff, TV show  Word count: 3547 Note: I just love writing for Maxton Hall. Pls hire me as a scriptwriter xx

Summary: from best friends to... more? When Y/N visits the last lacrosse game of James, things will take a turn

Y/N walked across the campus of Maxton Hall, her footsteps confident on familiar terrain. She wore a polite smile on her face, the kind that spoke of fond memories and an unspoken connection to this place. She had graduated from Maxton Hall just last year, but the school still felt like a second home.

As she made her way to the lacrosse field, where Maxton Hall was playing its last game before the winter break, she couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over her. She greeted a few students when they greeted her. When Y/N arrived at the lacrosse field, she looked around; the game had already started. She expected to be on time, but she was not. Her eyes scanned the field and then the tribune, looking for familiar faces, and she smiled when she spotted Lydia. Y/N tried to blend in with her outfit, but her outfit didn’t match the uniform. However, Y/N was wearing a blue jeans, trainers, a shirt and a in-between coat, it didn’t even came close to the uniforms. 

“Hey, hey,” Y/N smiled when she sat beside Lydia and her friends.

“We were almost scared you wouldn’t make it,” Lydia said. “James wasn’t sure if you would make it.”

Y/N put her hands in her pockets and looked at the field. “There was so much traffic in town. But I’m here now.” Her eyes lit up when she spotted the blue jersey with the number 17 on it. “Did I miss anything?” 

Lydia chuckled. “Not much, just the usual. James is playing really well today, though.”

Y/N watched James skilfully manoeuvred the field, his movements fluid and confident.

“How are you?” Lydia asked. “Long time no see.” The girl looked at Y/N. Lydia had always looked up to Y/N, and she still did. Y/N had everything she didn’t have. Y/N had a gentle soul and a bright spirit, qualities that Lydia cherished. Lydia was blessed to have a friend like Y/N in her life. 

“I’m fine,” Y/N nodded. “Busy with work, making coffees and listening to those endless conversations of customers,” she said and looked at Lydia. “And how are you? Started on studying for the exams yet?” 

Lydia sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Barely. It feels like there’s never enough time. Between the regular classes, family, Beaufort and trying to have a sort of social life, I’m barely keeping up.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. “Yeah, I’m glad I had it all last year,” she breathed. “But I’m happy to be here. I missed it here. I missed spending time here with you, at the field, the library… I feel like I entered an entirely different world now.” She nudged Lydia. “But you got this. You’re one of the smartest persons I know, Lyd.”

“Thanks, Y/N/N. If I have questions about anything related to exams, can I call you then?”

“Yes, of course! Even if they are not exams related.”

A grateful smile came on Lydia’s face. “Anyway, how are things going between you and James?” 

There had always been a special connection between Y/N and James. Lydia wasn’t the only one who noticed it. Everyone thought they would have been together by now, replacing the best friend title with girlfriend and boyfriend, but they were still lost in the best friend zone. 

A careful smile came on Y/N’s face; she knew what Lydia was trying to do: she was fishing for information, as always. “Just the usual,” she replied. “We barely have time to see each other. The last time I saw him was during the boat day. We FaceTime every now and then, but we’re both busy.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“Do you miss him?” 

Y/N’s eyes shot to Lydia, who was grinning. “Of course, I miss him. He’s my best friend, and we used to see each other daily. It’s the same as I miss you and all my other friends from here.”

“Uhu,” Lydia hummed and squinted her eyes. “Well, we miss you, too,” Lydia said. “Happy to see you here.”

They both focused on the game. Y/N found herself increasingly drawn to James. She couldn’t help but admire his dedication and skill. There was a moment when he scored a goal, and the crowd erupted in cheers. She widely smiled and looked around; it was just wonderful to see everyone go crazy: all for him. 

Since the boat day, something changed in Y/N, and something switched in her mind and heart. For weeks, she doubted. Y/N and James grew up together; they knew each other from when they were eight years old. She wasn’t exactly sure when it happened. Or even when it started. It could be the day on the boat, it could be before that day, it could be after that day. But she started to realise that she was falling hard for him right here and now. And she could only hope that he was feeling the same way. She wouldn’t tell him about her feelings. She didn’t want to give up their friendship because of her stupid feelings. 

Y/N bit on the inside of her cheek when she felt her cheeks heating up. She could feel Lydia’s eyes burning on her face, but she stared in front of her. She could see Lydia smile from the corner of her eye. 

“Ah, miss Y/L/N! What a surprise to see you here,” Principal Lexington said when he spotted a former student on the tribune. “How have you been? What are you doing now?” 

The right timing, Y/N thought. She engaged in the conversation with Lexington and shared some life updates while looking at the game occasionally. Y/N knew Lexington was being extra kind to her since her parents were paying a lot of extra money at Maxton Hall, even more than the Beaufort’s. 

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game. Maxton Hall had won, and the players celebrated on the field. The people in the stands also started to cheer; their team had won. Y/N and Lydia walked down the steps of the stands and headed to the side of the field. 

Everyone in the team took off their helmets and laughed with each other. It was a messy game, but so much fun. James looked towards the side of the field, hoping to see one person. His face lit up when he was Y/N, talking to Lydia. He jogged over with a brilliant smile on his face, his blue jersey clinging to his frame, sweat glistening on his skin. His hair was messy. His eyes sparkled with excitement and pride. 

“Hey,” he said surprised. “You made it.” He dropped his helmet on the grass. “I want to hug you, but…” He looked down, looking at his dirty and sweaty jersey. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Y/N replied, holding up her hand. 

James gave her a high five instead of a hug. Their gaze met, and they widely smiled. He waved his fingers together and held her hand for a few seconds before letting it go. “Are you cold?” he pointed at her red cheeks. Y/N and cold? Not a great combo. James knew she was cold when she had red cheeks, kind of like blushing. 

“A little,” she shrugged. 

He looked at Lydia, but she grinned and shook her head. James nodded and walked to his bag. He grabbed a hoodie and handed it over to Y/N. “Here,” he gave her his hoodie. 

“Ey, Beaufort!” 

James glanced over his shoulder and saw his teammates grinning and waiting for him. He turned back to Y/N. “I’ll see you in the canteen, Y/N/N,” he said warmly. Then, he jogged back to his team, who were all whooping and cheering. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he laughed.

Y/N watched him go, her heart fluttering. His smile lingered in her mind, and she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of longing. But she quickly recovered and looked at Lydia, who looked away. They decided to go to the canteen and wait for the team there, since it started to drizzle. 

As everyone returned to the main building, many greeted Y/N and Lydia. Y/N's time at Maxton Hall had left a lasting impression; she was a familiar face to students and staff. She carried a name everybody knew, not because she stood out dramatically, but because she had a quiet, magnetic presence that drew people to her. She was popular in a way that didn't rely on drama or trouble, quite the opposite of James, who had a knack for getting into mischief.

The contrast between Y/N and James had always intrigued people. Their friendship was like yin and yang; she was the calm, composed one, while he was the lively, unpredictable spirit. Their dynamic was amusing and fascinating to those who watched them navigate their school years together. Some saw them as the perfect couple; Y/N was a beauty, and James… You just fell for James. 

Once inside the canteen, the warmth and noise enveloped them. Students and faculty were milling about, celebrating the victory and catching up with one another. A group of students waved and called out as Y/N and Lydia passed by. Y/N returned their greetings with a warm smile, her presence lighting up their faces. Lydia also smiled. 

“Sometimes… I feel like we are royalty. I imagine myself moving, smiling and talking like a royal,” Y/N smirked and found a free spot at a long table in the middle of the canteen. She removed her coat and slid on James's hoodie, trying not to react to its familiar, comforting scent.

Lydia laughed and took off her coat as well. “Look at yourself,” she replied dramatically, tossing a piece of hair over her shoulder. “No, I get you. Long live the media training we had.”

Even though Y/N didn’t have to deal with the same media pressure as James and Lydia, she still had to attend media training this summer. Well, it was more like she wanted to do it. Y/N’s brother had to do it, and he asked Y/N to join him. Luckily, it was interesting, and Y/N also learned a lot from it. 

Lydia and Y/N talked about some fashion and beauty trends to kill time. It seemed like forever for the boys to arrive at the canteen. To Y/N, it felt like yesterday, she started her final year at Maxton Hall. She was one year above James and Lydia, while Y/N wasn’t that much older than them. They all had their own friends but still found each other during breaks to hang out. 

Finally, the doors to the canteen burst open, and the entire lacrosse team entered. The peaceful hum of conversation was replaced by the loud chatter and laughter of victorious players. Everyone walked to the long table Lydia and Y/N had claimed and sat down with more friends. Lydia got up and moved to another chair to let James sit beside Y/N. 

“Looks good on you,” James winked while sitting beside Y/N. 

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile. “Congratulations, you were amazing. That goal, though,” she said impressively. 

He placed his arm on the backrest of her chair and satisfyingly smiled. “Thank you, thank you,” he said with a broad smile, still slightly flushed from the game. “I didn’t see you when we started. When did you arrive?”

“Just missed the start,” she said and shrugged. “The traffic was drama.”

James moved close to her face. “I almost thought you forgot it,” he whispered. 

Y/N turned her head to him. His face was close. “Never,” she replied. “And even if I had to, I would let you know.”

They were talking about the game and later moved on to other topics like work, school, and other things. They hadn’t seen each other for over two months, and even though they FaceTimed, they had to catch up on a lot of things. 

Across from Y/N and James, his friends and Lydia were looking at him, laughing and talking in ways they hadn’t seen before. James seemed so happy to talk to Y/N and couldn’t stop smiling. Y/N was always smiling, but this smile meant more. 

“They say they are best friends, ‘just friends’, but literally everyone who ever looked at them when being together, like now, just knows they are something more. It’s so fucking obvious they had fallen for each other, but they just don’t admit it. Look at her; the way she looks at him is like he is her world, and the way he smiles is just happiness when he looks at her. And he barely smiles this happy,” Alistair said. 

Eyebrows around him raised. “Did you really say that?” Wren asked. 

“How poetic, didn’t know you had that in you,” Cyril added, taking a sip from his drink. 

Alistair sighed and shook his head. “Do I see things wrong, then?” 

“No,” Cyril smirked. “They’re both so fucking blind.” He looked at Lydia, who seemed to agree with everything the boys said. “Would it be a problem if they get together?”

Lydia took a moment to think. “I don’t think so. She has the name. And our families do businesses.” She leaned back on her chair. “However…” She squinted her eyes. “I don’t see Y/N being part of Beaufort or Y/L/N. Her brother is going for Y/L/N because he wants to. Y/N doesn’t have to do so…”

“Thanks for your technical opinion,” Cyril replied. “But they are allowed to get together. Where are we waiting for?” 

“Let them be. They’re close. Give them just a few more days, possibly hours,” she responded. 

As the afternoon progressed, the energy in the canteen remained high. Cyril and Wren planned a party tonight to celebrate their win and the beginning of the winter stop. 

“Y/N—” Cyril started but paused when he saw Y/N yawn. He raised an eyebrow, and she felt caught. “You are invited to the party tonight. So be there.”

James looked at her, smiling, hoping that she would join. It had been a while since she attended a party.

“I’d love to,” Y/N said, dodging another yawn. “But I’m passing.”

“Y/N…” several people protested in unison.

“I’ve been awake since five o’clock this morning and worked five days this week. Don’t mind me,” she defended herself. “But go party. You do you. Have fun.”

James’s smile faltered slightly. He understood her exhaustion but had hoped she’d be there. He reached out and gently touched her arm. She looked at him. “Are you sure? We can go home, and you can take a power nap,” he softly said. 

She bit her lip, reconsidering her decision. “I’m passing… But you should go. I will be there next time, I promise,” she smiled. “I just don’t feel like it today.” She looked back at the boys. “Next time, amigos.”

“Next week,” Cyril said. “Put it in your agenda. You show up, okay? No excuses.” He pointed at her. 

Lydia sighed. “If she doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to go.”

“I’ll be there next week,” Y/N said, grabbing her phone. She looked gratefully at Lydia. With just a few clicks, she added the event to her agenda. “You guys go and have a blast. I’ll catch up with you soon, but I’m going home now.” She got up and grabbed her coat. 

James looked at her. “I will bring you home,” he offered and got up as well. Y/N parted her lips, ready to say that she had her own car, but he shared that one look; the look that it was his decision and nothing could change it. “I will see you, boys,” he said. 

“You will be there tonight, Beaufort,” Wren sternly said. 

James walked away with Y/N on his side, throwing his hand in the air, but not saying anything. He wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and lightly grinned when Y/N wrapped her arm around his waist. With his other arm, he threw his back over his shoulder. Together, they walked through the halls of the school to the parking lot. 

“I drove myself to here,” Y/N reminded him. 

“Uhu,” he hummed. “I know.”

They walked in comfortable silence, the echoes of their footsteps filling the empty corridors. James's presence felt reassuring and warm, and Y/N found herself leaning slightly into him as they moved. Within minutes, they were standing next to Y/N’s car. Well, her parents’ car. 

“Last time, you drove. Now it’s my turn,” he said. 

She squeezed her eyebrows together and looked confused at him. “Aren’t you supposed to go to that party? You’re the star of the show, after all.” She was searching for the keys in the pockets of her coat. 

“I just heard there’s also a party next week, with my star on my side,” he replied and snatched the keys out of her hand. He opened the trunk of the car and threw his stuff in it. “There are more parties. They can party without me.”

“Who are you, and what did you do to James Beaufort?” Y/N crossed her arms in front of her chest, tilting her head. “Since when do you say no to a party?”

James smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Since I want to spend time with you,” he casually replied. “I haven’t seen you for ages.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, the playful banter catching her off guard. “Really?” she asked, a hint of scepticism in her voice. “What happened to the party animal I know?”

James stepped closer, his expression softening. “Sometimes priorities change,” he said quietly. “And right now, you’re my priority.”

Before she could respond, he cupped her face gently, his touch warm against her skin. Without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft, lingering kiss, filled with all the unspoken feelings that had been building between them for years. He pulled back and looked at her with a wide smile, while she stood still, processing what had just happened. Her arms hung limply by her sides, her heart racing in her chest.

James smirked, stepped away, and walked around the car to get in. Y/N just stared ahead, blinking a few times as she tried to comprehend the moment. Her fingers reached for her lips, where he had been just seconds ago. The warmth of his kiss lingered, sending a shiver down her spine.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced towards the school entrance; his friends and Lydia were standing there, all looking shocked and impressed at the same time. It meant that they saw it happening. Y/N’s jaw dropped, and she looked at them. Then she covered her mouth with her hand. They all laughed at her reaction. She covered her entire face when she felt she was blushing. Y/N took a deep breath and walked to the passenger’s side of the car. 

“Take him, Y/N,” Wren said on an average volume, but Y/N still could hear him. 

Her eyes shot up to the boys, Lydia and everyone else standing there. They were all grinning. Alistair stomped on Wren’s foot, likely as a signal to give them some privacy. Y/N quickly stepped into the car, closing the door behind her. James sat relaxed, trying to act like nothing had happened, but the blush creeping up his cheeks betrayed him. It was a sight Y/N had never seen before; James Beaufort, blushing.

She bit her lip, trying to process the moment. James swallowed hard and turned to look at her. When their gazes met, both their expressions straightened, the weight of the situation settling between them.

Without another word, Y/N leaned in and kissed him once again. This time, it wasn’t out of surprise or uncertainty; it was deliberate, a confirmation that they were on the same page. The kiss was gentle yet filled with a new intensity, a silent agreement that whatever was between them was real and worth exploring.

James responded instantly, his hand finding the back of her neck, pulling her closer. When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other. 

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, his breath warm against her lips.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's mouth, her heart soaring at his words. "Me, too," she admitted softly, her voice filled with the same depth of emotion.

Taglist: @notacoffeedrinker @tvshowgirl81 @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry

[lesbianpepsi]

sweet like cinnamon

pairing: jenna ortega x blind!fem!reader

summary: you fell in love with her voice years before you fell in love with her.

link to request

series masterlist

words: 2.619k

warnings: reader makes blind jokes?, light swearing, bad writing

authors note: this isn't my best work which i heavily apologise for, life has been a real mess lately and i just haven't been enjoying it at all🫠🫠

Nobody in this world has the same voice; nobody. Some might have similar sounding voices but nobody's is identical.

You didn't really notice that until you were fifteen years old, the young tragic age you turned blind. You were the one in a million that was born with thrombophilia (blood clotting disorder) which resulted in you getting vessel occlusion in your eyes, making you slowly become more blind as the years passed until it completely vanished. 

It was horrible in the beginning, to tell the truth but as the years passed the more you got used to being blind and the more you became okay with it. 

The one thing you didn't appreciate enough when you had sight was people's voices. When that was the only thing that could help you detect who was talking to you, you became entranced by peoples voices. 

The soft spoken people, the gruffly sounding people, the neutral sounding people. You loved hearing people's voices, but there was one voice you had completely fell entranced to, like a pirate to a sirens mystical voice. 

A actresses voice. 

You have never heard such a soft and relaxing voice before in your entire life. It was as sweet as honey; warming your heart as a smile played on your lips whenever you heard the voice.

The first time you heard her voice was when you were sixteen, your friend had invited you over to watch a random horror movie 'The Babysitter: Killer Queen.' 

In honesty you didn't enjoy the movie at all, finding it boring and annoying at times. But one thing compelled you into watching it; one voice. 

The voice of the character Phoebe who was played by 'America's It Girl' Jenna Ortega. 

Her voice was so soft spoken yet it had that gentle raspiness to it that captured all of your attention, her calming voice soothing you in a way that even surprised you. 

You were utterly fixated on it. 

After that day you proceeded to find out what other movies she had been in, listening to them all at least once.

The more movies you listened to, the more you became in awe of the calming voice of Jenna Ortega.

As you grew up, your fangirl behaviour died down. You didn't religiously listen to her voice as you did in your teens, but you'd never forget her sweet voice. 

—————

"C'mon Yelena." You whispered to your guide dog, the grip to her harness in your left hand while your right hand was occupied with your mobility cane, running it along the pavement as you walked down the street, the golden retriever leading you towards your favourite cafe. 

It was a warm Thursday morning, the sun shined brightly over the town you lived in, warming you up as you walked down the quiet street.

You didn't have a particularly busy day that day, so you decided to head down to the local cafe. 

The place was a family run cafe that you absolutely adored for a myriad of reasons. Its loving atmosphere, the best coffee you ever had and your own signature booth at the corner of the cafe. 

It was honestly like your second home at this point.

As you rounded the final corner you smiled to yourself and walked over the one crooked step on the sidewalk, remembering exactly where it was like the back of your hand.

With a few more steps you felt Yelena slow down as she prepared to face the cafe door, you smiled down at her as you gave her a quick pat before you pushed the door open, the familiar ring reaching your ears as you entered the cafe. 

You and Yelena walked over to the booth in the corner with a smile on both of your lips. As you reached the booth you loosened your grip on Yelena's harness, knowing you'd be okay without her and the fact she was an extremely well behaved dog.

Leaning your cane against the corner booth seat, sighing as you listened to the sound that filled your ears.

Idle chatter heard was the first thing you could hear the second being low music that played throughout the cafe, a Taylor Swift song that you didn't know the title of. 

As you focused even further you suddenly heard quiet breathing from the booth. You snapped your head instantly in the direction of the noise, flushing red with embarrassment.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't know someone was in the booth." You rushed out slightly embarrassed, not expecting someone in so early and in the booth.

A quiet whimsical laugh filled your ears, you tilted your head to the side. You knew that laugh, it sounded so familiar.

"No it's my fault for not saying anything before, I'm really sorry." The woman apologised back, a small laugh still noticeable in her voice.

Your eyes widened dramatically behind your thick black sunglasses, you definitely knew that voice. 

As you tried not to physically explode when you realised Jenna Ortega was sitting in front of you, you rubbed the back of your neck as you smiled crookedly.

"I should've asked if someone was here, nobody's usually at this booth, especially this early in the morning." You explained to her as you clicked your fingers, Yelena swiftly moved to your side, her harness already between your fingers.

"Honestly you don't have to apologise, we can share the booth if you'd like?" She offered in a honey sweet voice, her voice enchanting you as it did when you were sixteen.

You honestly couldn't believe your absolute luck, I mean it's not everyday you'd run into Jenna fucking Ortega. 

Loosening your grip on Yelena's harness you gave an eager nod to her, smiling brightly. "Yeah that sounds great." You told her as you slowly sat down, Yelena moving to sit down on the floor next to you.

"I'm Jenna." She says, you smile at her as you extend your hand to her direction. "Pleasure to meet you Jenna, I'm Y/n." 

Her soft hand met yours as she gave it a gentle shake, her fingers having a strong yet a gentle grip on your hand. It was as if electricity coursed through your veins the moment her palm connected with yours, tingling your entire body from your fingertips to your ears.

Your and Jenna's hands lingered there for longer than any handshake should be, as if both of you didn't want to take your hands back. 

Slowly, you and the brunette did eventually pull away as you smiled nervously at her, still heavily intimidated that you were currently sitting in a cafe with Jenna Ortega.

"Are you a regular here?" She asked once the two of you had duly pulled away, her hand grasping around her mug. You nodded your head as you smiled softly. "Yeah I've been coming here for years. You?"

Jenna smiled at you as she sipped her coffee, a gentle smile toying on her lips. "I just found this place a few months ago and have been coming here at least two times a week ever since then. I've never seen you here before though."

You snorted out a laugh. "I've definitely not seen you." 

Jenna stumbled over her words as she let out a nervous laugh, not knowing how to respond to your joke. Most people didn't know how to react whenever you made a joke about your blindness. They'd always get flustered as if they'd offend you if they'd laugh at your joke. 

"You can laugh, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't want you to laugh." At that Jenna finally let out a genuine laugh, not a nervous awkward laugh people do when they don't know whether to laugh or not.

Your heart fluttered in your chest the same way it did when you were sixteen as you heard her laugh, it still being one of the most heavenly things you had ever heard. 

As her laughter died down Jenna was leaning on her hand as she gazed at your features, a smitten smile already on her face.

"Why've you been coming here for years?" Jenna asked curiously, her sole focus still on you. You purse your lips momentarily as you think of an actual reason. "Well, I've been told the place is beautiful and they serve the best cinnamon latte I've ever tasted." 

Jenna grinned as her eyes flickered down to her drink, a cinnamon latte; her favourite.

"Is that your favourite?" She voiced as her slender fingers wrapped around the warm mug. You nodded your head with your own smile on your lips. "Yeah, been my favourite forever. The ones here are just so strong it beats any other cafe." 

Jenna hummed as she sipped her latte. "That I agree with." 

 You grinned at her as you felt more relaxed with the entire situation, relaxing into your chair as you listened intently to her.

Footsteps were heard coming in your direction, light but they were still noticeable. You moved your head in the direction of the footsteps as you smiled, you already knew who it was from the footsteps.

"Nance, great to hear you again." You greeted her with a grin, the old woman cackled as she arrived at your booth.

"Y/n, my favourite customer. How've you been, dear?" She asked as she bent down to place the dog bowl full of cold water and a few ice cubes for Yelena, the golden dog greedily began slurping away at the beverage the moment it touched the ground.

You nodded your head weakly. "Mediocre but much better now since I arrived here." Nancy let out a quick chuckle as she shook her head. "One cinnamon latte, I'm guessing?"

"You know me too well." You answered with a smile as you turned back to face the woman sitting across from you. 

"You want another one, Jen?" She asked as she turned to face her; Jenna nodded her head with a polite smile on her face. "Please."

Nancy nodded her head as she scribbled away on her christmas notepad. "Two cinnamon lattes for the two lovely ladies. Enjoy your date girls." She said with a mischievous grin that only Jenna witnessed before she turned away to go make your drinks.

You blushed heavily, looking down as you hoped Jenna wouldn't notice it. Little did you know Jenna herself had a soft blush that tainted her cheeks beautifully.

Coughing, you covered your hand with your mouth as you picked your head back up, your face facing Jenna's. 

"Great minds think alike?" 

Jenna laughed lightly as she looked at you in awe. "Only the greatest."

You quickly realised that conversation between you and Jenna flowed by swiftly. 

Jenna eventually did bring up the fact she was a well known actress, to which you simply replied with what you knew. 

She was slightly surprised but it didn't change how she spoke to you, and it never changed for you once.

Both you were so lost in your own small world in the corner of the cafe neither of you even noticed how much time had passed. 

As you were telling her the story of how you almost died twice in the same holiday her phone rang loudly, interrupting you quite rudely. 

Jenna groaned as she glanced at the screen, her face souring as she noticed her time with you was up.

"It's my manager, probably wondering where I am." She explained as she declined the call, clicking the 'Sorry, I can't call right now.' option as she shoved her phone into her pocket.

You exhaled as your fingers played with the empty mug in front of you. "Duty calls?" 

Jenna frowned as she nodded her head, growing the urge to throw her phone out the window as she felt the low vibrations of the text messages from her boss. 

"Unfortunately." She grumbled as she looked at her half empty cup of latte. You smirked at her as you stopped moving your fingers. "What, you don't wanna leave me or something?" 

"Nah, I just don't wanna go listen to my manager yap for hours." 

"Wow, being mean to a blind woman? I'll cancel you for that, Ms Ortega." You remarked with a playful smile, chuckling yourself. 

Jenna shook her head amused as she ignored the onslaught of messages from her manager.

"Cancel me? Oh no, what could I do to make you rethink your decisions?" Jenna asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she lifted her mug to take another sip of her drink.

Your mouth was running much faster than your mind, before you could even process the words coming out of your mouth you replied back to her in a confident voice.

"Take me out on a date." You answered in lightning speed with a nervous smile, a blush appeared on your cheeks moments after you noticed what you said. 

Jenna was silent for a moment, in that small moment your confidence was easily diminished as your fear began increasing as fast as your heart beat. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from. I know we just met and I probably just made you really uncomfortable." You apologised as you tilted your  head down.

"Y/n." Jenna said.

You ignored her as you kept apologising to her, you had already convinced yourself she was going to reject you and thought you were weird.

"I honestly don't know what came over me, I probably just ruined any small potential of a friendship we could've had by that." You carried on apologising, unaware of the delighted smile on Jenna's face.

"Y/n." She said with a more firm tone, her voice raised to steal your attention. Gingerly you lifted your head, that scarlet red hue still tainted your cheeks. 

"I'd love to go on a date with you." Jenna exclaimed in her sweet voice that practically made your nervous frown flip into a boisterous smile. 

"Really?" You asked in disbelief. 

Jenna laughed as she nodded her head, her smile so wide she was showing her pearly whites to the world. 

"Really." She confirmed as she lowered her empty mug, placing it next to yours. "I'd love nothing more if I'm being honest."

You beamed at her words, your heart never calmed down as you still couldn't believe Jenna Ortega said she wanted to go on a date with you.

Abruptly, Jenna's phone rang loudly once again, making you and Jenna annoyed at the distribution. 

"Can I have your number?" Jenna asked you as she ignored the ringing, you nodded your head eagerly. 

"Oh thank god you asked for it, I was so scared you were gonna say something like 'fate will  bring us together again.'" You replied as you took out your phone from your pocket, passing it over to Jenna.

She giggled as she looked for your number on your phone. "You don't believe in fate or something?"

You shook your head. "Oh no, I  believe in fate. I just don't think fate would let me magically see you and spot you in public." You joked as Jenna began entering her own number into your phone after she was done with hers. 

Jenna didn't say anything as she chuckled quietly, passing your phone back to you.

"I really have to leave now, otherwise my manager will actually send a team looking for me." Jenna apologised with a sigh. You laughed softly as you smiled as softly at her.

"I'll call you?" She asked as you heard her shuffle out of her side of the booth. Your head followed the movement of the noise, nodding your head with a smile. 

"I'll be waiting." 

"I won't make you wait too long." 

—————

a/n: fun fact, i fucking hate cinnamon with a passion

[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, slight mention of 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: No one is crazy about him atm, me included, so this is strictly for my readers and my readers only. I don’t condone his behavior at all -Just let me finish out this fic please. Don’t come for me. I’m only a girl with a google doc whose spent hours upon hours and days on end on this fic

Chapter 9 - Waiting | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.8k

You could feel the party roaring on, its energy vibrant and chaotic in the distance as you slipped out of the bathroom with Trent, hearts still racing. The hallway was dimly lit, a contrast to the pulsing lights spilling in from the main room. You smoothed your hair and adjusted your skirt, trying to steady your breathing and regain composure, but Trent was having none of it. Walking just a step behind you, he slipped his hand under your skirt one last time, his fingers grazing your thigh before giving your ass a firm squeeze. The touch sent a shiver through you, your cheeks heating as you whipped your head around to glare at him.

"T!" you whispered, half-scolding, though your voice was laced with a breathless laugh. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as the noise from the party almost drowned out his words.

"Thank you for conceding. I was dying, baby." He smirked. You giggled, swatting at his hand to shoo him away. 

"Get off," you whispered again, but the playfulness in your tone betrayed you. “You’re welcome though.” You giggled as you walked further down the hallway, closer to where the rest of the party unfolded.

"I'm keeping my eye on you, yeah?" he hummed, his voice low and teasing. He winked, his hand lingering just long enough to squeeze yours tenderly, the contrast between his touch and his earlier intensity making your heart flutter. With a small, knowing smirk, you drifted back into the crowd, feeling his gaze follow you as you melted into the masses. You didn't need to turn around to know he was watching-he always was. Separating in the chaos of the party, it felt like a secret tether still held you together, pulling you back even when you were apart. You spotted Layla across the room, leaning into an intense conversation. Her laughter echoed above the music, but the second she caught your eye, she excused herself and made a beeline toward you, excitement lighting up her face. She didn’t hesitate, grabbing both of your arms.

“Excuse me….Did you actually just fuck Trent Alexander-Arnold in the loo?” she whispered, her grin widening as she looked at you expectantly, a bit in disbelief. You couldn’t help but smirk, trying to stifle a laugh. 

“Mmhm,” you hummed, a guilty glint in your eye. “Layla….It was…” You began to recount the affair but she cut you off.

“Jesus, this is wild,” she muttered, almost to herself, as if processing it out loud. “I can’t believe this. You’re—this is Trent. And you,” she emphasized, poking your arm, “you and Trent were in a bathroom and you’re sucking him off now? How did we get here?” The two of you dissolved into a fit of giggles, the energy between you bubbling over as you shared every hidden detail and guilty laugh. And somehow, between the laughter, you ended up spilling the parts you’d barely even admitted to yourself.

“It’s… I don’t know. There’s so many sides to it with him. There’s this, like, spontaneous, messy, public-side of things where I’m sending him nudes and he’s meeting me in the bathroom for sex. Like you watched it unfold. The tension is so thick.” You blushed, a little buzzed warmth spreading as you recalled the night’s earlier escapade and all the teasing that led to it. “And then, when it’s just us, alone… I don’t think I’ve ever felt so connected to someone. Like it feels so… I feel so… seen.” You told her. Layla raised an eyebrow, her smile softening as she nodded, seeing a depth in your expression that went far beyond the thrill of a secret. 

“Wow… so you’re proper into him, not like the idea… it’s not the years of build up, but like him as a person, right now, you’re down for him,” she said, almost in awe that things had finally come into fruition. You nodded slowly, cautiously realizing it was true. 

“It’s more than just the sex too…” you trailed off, but she finished the thought for you, nodding again.

“Way more.” She told you, confirming she understood. She tried not to pout at you. If you told your younger self this was happening she’d probably scream. You both fell into a comfortable silence, letting it all sink in. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him—Jack, your brother, entering the room, his usual wide grin plastered on his face as he chatted easily with the girl, Megan, he was seeing. The moment you saw him, a pang of guilt swept through you, knocking the breath from your lungs. Jack had been so carefree tonight, so… oblivious. It almost made it worse. He had no idea, and the secrecy felt like a weight pressing down on you. Layla seemed to notice the shift in you immediately, slipping an arm around you in a comforting side hug. 

“You know… he’d want to know,” she whispered, her tone gentle. You looked at her, brows furrowing with doubt. 

“Would he really though? I mean, this is Jack we’re talking about... And me… and Trent.” You wryly smiled. She gave a small laugh.

“Okay, maybe not the details you just gave me,” she admitted, nudging you playfully. “But yeah, I think he’d want to know in general. Especially since you’re saying this isn’t just… bathroom hookups and sneaking around.” You bit your lip, eyes drifting back to where Jack was laughing without a care. The two of you never kept things from each other. And hiding something this big, this serious—it felt wrong. Layla, noticing your conflicted expression, gave your arm a gentle squeeze.

“It’s not like you’re keeping it from him to hurt him, same as you didn’t do that with me,” she said quietly, a touch of sympathy in her voice. “But… you’re really in deep, babe. And if things with Trent are what they seem to be… then Jack probably deserves to know. If only because he’s your brother.” You nodded slowly, her words hitting closer than you wanted to admit. It was true—you didn’t just want the thrill, the excitement of being with Trent. You wanted the real parts too, the ones that lasted beyond the whispers and the hiding. But if that was what you wanted, then hiding didn’t make sense anymore.

Leaving the party felt like slow, deliberate torture. Every step away from Trent was a struggle, a quiet war between what you wanted and what you knew you couldn’t have tonight. The air outside was cool, biting against your skin as you walked toward the car with Jack and Megan, but the warmth of Trent’s hand brushing against yours one last time still lingered like a ghost. Megan gave him a quick hug, her laugh ringing out as she pulled away, while Jack dapped him up with a playful comment about seeing him later. Then it was your turn. His eyes softened when they met yours, filled with a tenderness he couldn’t show in front of your brother. He pulled you into a slow, lingering hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you as if trying to silently convey everything he couldn’t say out loud. You buried your face into his chest for a brief second, inhaling his scent, before forcing yourself to pull back. Jack and Megan were already turning toward the car, their backs to you, but you felt exposed, like the hug alone had been too much. Trent leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and when you looked up at him, your eyes were glassy, emotions threatening to spill over. He tilted his head, his gaze steady but soft, and mouthed, ‘Go on.’ The words felt heavier than they should have. They weren’t a command—they were permission, an unspoken reassurance that he’d still be there, waiting, even if you had to walk away right now. Your throat tightened as you nodded, stepping back reluctantly and turning toward the car. Every step was agony. You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew if you looked back, you’d break and the secret would be out or worse… maybe he wouldn’t be there. The pull to run back to him, to grab his hand and leave together, was almost unbearable, but you kept moving. The distance between you grew, and with it, the ache in your chest deepened. Sliding into the car beside Jack and Megan, you stared out the window, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your emotions in check. The vibration of your phone broke the silence, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

'Call me when you get home. Pls xx.'

The text made your heart ache even more. You wanted nothing more than to be with him, to skip the pretending and sneaking around. But instead, you pressed your head against the cool glass, the world outside shifting into a blur.

You said goodnight to Megan and Jack, leaving them in the kitchen, their playful banter filling the space as they shared slices of late-night pizza. Their laughter echoed down the hallway, warm and light, but it only deepened the ache in your chest. It was a reminder of something you couldn’t have—not right now, not openly. In your en suite, you began the ritual of taking off your makeup, your reflection staring back at you with tired eyes and a growing sense of loneliness. The muffled sound of Megan and Jack’s laughter still carried through the walls, a sharp contrast to the silence of your own thoughts. You felt disconnected, like you were watching life happen around you while standing just outside of it. The ache in your chest swelled, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if Trent had really meant it when he asked you to call. Was it just something he said to soften the blow of walking away? You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. But it did. You wanted him—his voice, his presence, his reassurance. Before you could second-guess yourself, you picked up your phone, scrolling to his name. Your thumb hovered for just a moment before you pressed Call. The line didn’t ring for long before he answered, skipping the formality of a greeting altogether.

“You in bed f’me, pretty girl?” His voice was low, velvety, and full of mischief, but beneath it, there was a warmth that made your chest tighten. The familiarity of it washed over you, melting away the doubt you’d felt just moments before. You couldn’t help but smile, even though he couldn’t see it. 

“Maybe I am,” you teased softly, leaning against the bathroom counter. Subconsciously pushing your boobs together as if for him, as if he was there. 

“Don’t play coy, baby,” he murmured, the sound of his voice alone enough to make you feel less alone. “Tell me. Are you in bed, waiting for me to call and say goodnight?” He asked you sweetly but there was an undercurrent of seduction. The idea of him in your bed had your imagination running wild with the things you wish you could do right now. You let out a small laugh, the tension of the night loosening ever so slightly. 

“Not yet. I’m still getting ready.” You cooed softly.

“Hmm,” he hummed, the sound deep and indulgent. “Take your time, yeah? Then get comfy for me. I’m not hanging up.” His confidence wrapped around you like a blanket, making you feel safer than you had all evening. You leaned against the counter, letting his voice fill the quiet space, hoping this call would stretch long into the night. You kept him on the line, the sound of his voice soothing you as you moved through your nighttime routine. It was easy to let yourself get lost in his casual tone, the way he teased and spoke to you as if nothing about this situation was out of the ordinary. But that’s what gnawed at you—you hated how okay he seemed with it all. The sneaking, the hiding, the distance. It was second nature to him, and it made you feel like maybe you weren’t as different as you thought. Finally, you crawled into bed, pulling the blankets tight around you as though they could replace his warmth. The emptiness of the space beside you felt glaring, and you couldn’t shake the longing. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to be content with just the sound of his voice.

“Y’alright, baby?” Trent’s voice was softer now, his playful edge giving way to genuine concern. You hesitated, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Yeah,” you lied, though your tone betrayed you.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured, his voice a quiet plea. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?” He asked a question he already knew the answer to. You let out a sigh, your emotions threatening to spill over. 

“I just… I hate this,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “I hate that you’re not here. I hate that we can’t just be normal. I hate that I feel like this while you seem… fine.” The line was silent for a moment, his breathing the only sound. 

“You think I’m fine?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Y/N, I’m trying to keep it together because if I don’t, I’ll go mad. You think I don’t hate this too? That I don’t wish I could be there with you right now?” You swallowed hard, your heart twisting at his words. 

“Then why are you so okay with it?” You snapped a bit harsher than you meant to. Maybe it was the liquor or maybe you genuinely were annoyed. 

“I’m not,” he said firmly. “I’m not okay with it at all. I just—” He paused, struggling to find the words. “I hate seeing you upset. I hate knowing you’re there alone. But what am I supposed to do? Show up at your place with Jack there? Ruin everything?” His voice softened, a raw vulnerability creeping in. “I miss you, baby. So much it’s driving me insane. But this is how it has to be.” He cooed as tears slipped down your cheeks as you clutched the phone tighter. 

“I just want you here,” you whispered. You really weren’t sure if this was fueled by liquor or love. You felt like you could taste the tequila though. You could hear his sigh, feel the shared frustration hanging in the air between you.

“I know,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. “Me too.” The silence stretched between you, heavy with longing and frustration. He tried to comfort you, whispering soft reassurances, but it did little to ease the ache of his absence. Nothing could. You closed your eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his voice, pretending it was enough. 

“I wish I was with you. You can’t imagine how hard this is for me. Maybe we could’ve just—” He began to talk but you interrupted him.

“But we can’t, we’ve said that… I know” you snapped again, cutting him off harshly though your tone softened immediately after as you added a confessional. “I’d give anything to be with you right now.” You whispered meekly. 

“Well,” he murmured, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver through you, “I’m still here, baby. Maybe not how we want… but I’m not going anywhere.” He reassured you.

“Promise?” you whispered, clutching your phone a little tighter, feeling silly but needing to hear him actually say it. 

“Promise,” he said gently, like it was the easiest promise he’d ever make. A warmth flooded through you at the thought, as though you’d somehow erased the space between you. Even as you said goodnight, you could still feel him with you, his voice lingering in your mind long after you’d both hung up.

Leaving the party separately had been a harsh reminder of what you were hiding, a chasm between the life you had with Trent and the life you wanted. On the outside, you tried to act like it was fine—just some casual, lighthearted fling—but inside, you knew better. You felt yourself slipping deeper into something real with him, you heard yourself admitting things to him over the phone you probably shouldn’t have. That you missed him, you wanted him, all of it and it terrified you as much as it thrilled you. But for Trent, maybe that weight felt different. He was in deep with you too, but he couldn’t shake that you were Jack’s little sister. It added a whole other layer, a silent complicating factor neither of you could ignore. So when you invited him over for a night in, hoping you’d have a rare moment of normalcy, you half-expected him to agree. Just for once, you wanted him to choose you without hesitation. Not have him in control. You wanted to take the reins for a change, feel like equals in this. But that same night, Noah invited the boys for a movie, it was as if all your unspoken fears were confirmed. Trent texted you back, saying he’d already agreed to go to Noah’s. He tried to explain it, to make it seem like he was doing it ‘for’ you but there was no reasoning that made it make sense.

'If I disapear too much the lads will start asking questions, yk?' 'Just trying to keep things lowkey' 'Can't risk you, baby' 'You understand, yeah?'

As much as you tried to rationalize it—remind yourself that he was being practical, maybe even protective—it still stung. You felt like you’d been put back in a box, hidden away for the sake of convenience. The ache of not being chosen sat heavy in your chest, wrapping around your heart as the minutes passed, and you couldn’t ignore the sting of it. You’d never asked for much: just for him to show up, to be with you for one night in a way that didn’t involve excuses or sneaking around. It was sneaking around but at least you were the one orchestrating it. You wanted him to want you enough to choose you over everyone else. Sitting alone in your room, you considered texting him back. Your fingers hovered over the screen, wondering if you should tell him how you felt—that it wasn’t just about wanting his company, but needing him to prioritize you, even if just for a night. But you didn’t. You were too afraid of saying too much, of sounding needy, or worse—of pushing him away. You’d already felt like you’d let him know too much. 

Instead, you set your phone aside, biting back the words that threatened to spill out. The silence felt like it was swallowing you whole, and your room suddenly felt unbearably empty. You laid back against your pillow, staring up at the ceiling, trying to let the quiet lull you into some kind of acceptance. You told yourself he was just being practical, that he was trying to be careful, but it didn’t stop the feeling of being second. You wanted to be the person he chose without having to justify it, without having to feel like an afterthought or a secret tucked away out of convenience.

Hours passed, and the room grew colder, but your thoughts wouldn’t relent. You tried to remember the good moments, the way he held you close when you woke up together, the way he whispered in your ear with that effortless charm. You tried to replay those memories in your head, hoping they’d soften the ache, but all they did was remind you of what was missing right now. It wasn’t just the thrill of sneaking around or the excitement of a late-night rendezvous. It was him—all of him. You wanted his laughter, his warmth, his undivided attention, and his willingness to show up for you without needing a reason or an excuse. It hurt to realize that as much as you both felt something real, this still felt fragile. It was so precious and yet so precarious, a relationship built on stolen moments and hushed promises, kept alive by the hope that maybe one day it would be more. You wondered how much longer you could go on like this, hiding, hoping, feeling torn between the undeniable attraction and the fear that you’d always come second. A pang of hurt riffled through your chest wondering if you’d be strong enough to even get out of this. You wanted to be with him, and you wanted him to feel the same way without holding back. But tonight, lying there alone, you couldn’t ignore the whispering doubts that crept into your mind. Maybe this was all it would ever be—a secret romance, hidden away, safe from the prying eyes but not from the ache of feeling like you were only a part of his life when it was convenient. And as much as you wanted to deny it, a part of you wondered how long you could keep going like this, waiting for the day he’d choose you openly, without hesitation, without excuses.

The silence had grown too heavy, and the second you texted Layla, she was on her way over, sensing the need for support without question. Minutes later, she arrived, all energy and anticipation, ready for a debrief. You couldn’t help but spill everything—how Trent had chosen a night with the boys over time with you, his excuses about ‘keeping things low-key,’ and how much it had stung to feel like you were being hidden, set aside when convenient. Layla’s temper flared but she bit her tongue and let you continue on. But as you wrapped up, Layla’s eyes glimmered with a knowing smirk and a plan. 

“If he wants to pie you off for the lads… remind him of all the ways you aren’t one of them, why you’re the better option. His only option.” She shifted on the bed, crossing her arms as she raised an eyebrow. 

“Lays…” You laughed, but there was caution in your tone as you murmured her name, sensing where she was going.

“Call him right now.” She leaned in, her voice firm and commanding. “He likes games so much—let’s play one,” she added with a mischievous glint, and you couldn’t help the grin that broke out. You adjusted yourself on the bed, propping up your phone as she settled in beside you, giving you a conspiratorial nod. Your fingers hovered over Trent’s name, your nerves buzzing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. You hit the call button, and after a few rings, he picked up. You lounged back against the pillows, your phone resting on speaker between you and Layla. She was biting her lip to suppress her giggles, her eyes sparkling with mischief as you waited for Trent to answer. When Trent saw your name flash on your phone, his heart skipped a bit. He wanted to answer but he couldn’t, Jack was on the other end of the couch. He was swift darting out the room. When he finally did pick up, now safely tucked in the lonely confines of Noah’s kitchen, his voice was soft, quiet, laced with distraction. 

"Y’alright, baby," he greeted, sounding casual, completely unaware of what was about to hit him.

“Hi," you replied, your voice a sultry purr. You knew exactly what you were doing. "I didn’t expect you to pick up with the movie and all…What are you up to?" you asked. 

"Nah, you know I’d always pick up your call," he answered, the faint hum of voices and a movie’s score blaring in another room audible in the background.

"Hmm," you hummed, dragging the sound out just enough to catch his attention. You glanced at Layla, who was already covering her mouth to muffle her laughter. "I've just been lying here... feeling so bored today." Trent didn't pick up on it immediately, his voice still distracted. 

"Yeah? What've you been doing, pretty girl?" He asked aimlessly, just happy to hear you talk. Your lips curved into a devilish smile, and you decided to drop the bomb. 

"Nothing much, haven’t left my bed really" you murmured, keeping your tone soft, teasing. "Just... thinking about you. All day. It's been driving me crazy." You cooed teasingly. There was a pause, a sharp inhale on the other end. 

"What?" His tone shifted instantly, the casual air replaced by something much more focused.

"I've been so horny, baby," you whispered, your voice low, almost a whine. "And now I'm all alone, just... lying here. Thinking about you." You whimpered. “What we’d be doing.” You doubled down and Layla made a face shocked at how easily this all flowed out of your mouth. Trent went completely silent for a moment. You could picture him, frozen in place, probably running a hand over his jaw as he tried to process your words. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained. 

"You can't be saying stuff like this to me right now." He told you as his brain continued to be scrambled. 

"You're not here so I wanted to call. What else am I supposed to do? Just sit here... you know what they say about idle hands," you teased, dragging your words out with a playful lilt.  Layla clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. You glanced at her, grinning, and decided to push a little further. "I even thought about calling you earlier, but I didn't want to bother you while you were with the boys. I mean...” You let out a soft, breathy sigh. "You clearly had other priorities but I just… wanted to be reminded of your voice in my ear." You moaned feigning sexual indignation. That did it. 

"Babyyyy," Trent groaned, his tone a mix of frustration and desire. "Stop playing with me." He ran his hand over his hair trying to not get too excited by your words, his joggers were beginning to tent. He was still at Noah’s house but he was about ready to get in his car right now. 

"Who says I'm playing?" you countered, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "I'm just... lonely. I mean, I'm wearing that little top you like. Or... I was." You told him a blatant lie. Layla’s eyes widened, shaking her head, looking at you fully covered up in a jumper.  You heard him curse softly under his breath, the faintest sound of a chair scraping as he moved. 

"Why are you doing this to me?" he muttered, his voice lower now, raspier.

"I’m not doing anything. You're just not here," you shot back, your tone both teasing and genuine. "And I wanted you to know that I really… really… wish you were." You taunted him.  Trent groaned again, louder this time. You could hear the faint shuffle of movement on his end.

"Where are you?" he asked suddenly, his voice tense.

"I told you, I’m in bed," you replied, leaning back and letting your voice drop dripping with faux innocence. "All by myself. Thinking about you." You confirmed the lie once over as Layla scoffed. 

"Jesus Christ," Trent muttered. You could picture him now, pacing the kitchen, probably running a hand over his hair in frustration. And you were correct. He was doing just that trying to figure out what to do right now. Layla gave you a sly grin.

"Well," you said, dragging out the word, "then I guess I'll just have to keep myself company. Maybe I’ll send you a picture of what I’m up to while you’re at Noah’s?" You suggested.

"Baby" he warned, his voice sharp. But there was a tremor in it, a crack that told you exactly how much he wanted you to follow through. He couldn’t handle this, his head was on mars.

"Oh, but I thought you liked that, when I sent you photos, didn’t you?" you mocked him. If he wanted movie night with the boys so badly, you were going to make it hell. Send him the nastiest picture you had yet while he had to sit there on his hands. It felt good to have the power shifting.  "You don’t want to see me?" You asked feigning innocence.

“Pretty girl, I am dying here…. Please. Don’t do this to me.” He begged you. He wanted a photo of you more than anything in the world. But the idea of having just to sit on it. Doing nothing with it was excruciating. What was he meant to do here? He was on the phone in the middle of the film, if he left now… what would his excuse be but… you were home alone, he wanted to be there. 

"Hmm, maybe. You always ask me to be a good girl for you… Why couldn’t you be good for me once. Just for tonight." You cooed teasingly. That’s all you wanted was tonight- wasn’t too much but now he’d pay.

"I'm always good for you," he shot back without hesitation, the heat in his voice making Layla raise her eyebrows at you in mock disbelief.

"Are you?" you teased, shifting in bed and letting your voice drop to a softer, more tempting tone. "Because if you were, you wouldn't have left me all alone tonight for the boys." Trent groaned again. He really regretted his decision. He thought he was doing this to benefit your relationship. And now he realized that he didn’t give a shit about what the boys thought, he wanted to be there with you. 

“Nah, baby fuck them. I’ll come over right now. Swear. I’m sorry, baby. I want to come be with you. ” His voice had dropped, the suggestion loaded, as if he’d already started picturing it. Layla shot you a look, one that dared you to turn the tables even further. You bit your lip, taking the plunge. 

"Well, it’s too late now. You're with them, and I'm here alone." You dragged out the last word, knowing exactly what it would do to him. Your lips curled into a satisfied smirk. 

“Don’t.” He threatened you. He pretended to hit his head against the cupboard in front of him. He was regretting every decision up until this point. He felt so stupid but he wasn’t keen on letting you play with him like this. 

"Don't what?" you asked innocently, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers. "Don't tell you that l've been lying here, thinking about you? That l've been imaging all the ways your hands would be on me, all the ways I could’ve been good for you?" You taunted him. Layla flopped on the bed squeezing your leg shocked that you went this far. 

"Baby, you're killing me," Trent muttered, his frustration palpable. Layla shot you a grin and mouthed, ‘keep going.’ 

"I think I'll take a long, hot shower," you mused aloud, your tone thoughtful but teasing. "Let the water run over me, help me relax after such a long, lonely night." Trent cursed softly under his breath, and you could hear the faint sound of him shifting.

"I'm coming over, baby. Enough," he declared suddenly, his tone firm, decisive.

"No, it's okay," you said quickly, trying to sound casual even as your heart raced. Layla gestured wildly, as if to say ’this is what we wanted.’ She wanted you to break him down to a begging point and you’d gotten there, actually coming over though and giving him best of both worlds? Not going to happen. “Seriously, it's fine," you continued, trying to keep the upper hand. "I'll just shower, maybe do some online shopping. Pick out something... special for maybe some upcoming plans..." Trent let out a low, guttural groan that made your stomach flip.  He shook his head to gain some composure. He needed to get a grip but all the visuals you were giving we’re sending him into orbit. He took a deep breath before his next words. His controlled demeanor returning.

"Yeah? How about you get something for when I come over next, hmm?” Trent's voice dropped a little, thick with anticipation. “Be a good girl, I’ll send you my card, just something special only for me?" He murmured, his tone laced with a possessive edge that sent a thrill through you. Layla looked at you admittedly having a hard time turning down the offer. Maybe you could do both. You bit your lip, pretending to consider his suggestion. 

"Maybe," you teased, letting the word hang in the air. "But only if you're lucky."

"I'll make sure I'm lucky," he shot back, his voice thick with determination. "You just wait for me, baby. Then, I'm gonna make you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Promise." He told you. “Just f’me baby.” He pleaded.  

"Brooo, embarrassing!" Noah teased, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his grin wide and taunting. Trent froze, his face heating as Noah burst into laughter.

"Fuck off," Trent snapped, his voice sharper than intended as he quickly turned his back to Noah, gripping his phone tighter. He was met with silence from your end, and for a second, his heart sank. He couldn't let Noah know it was you or worse his intrusion derail this moment.

"You're gonna be in my bed tonight, yeah?" Trent asked again, his voice quieter now, more serious, his heart pounding as he waited for your answer. On your end, you paused, savoring the power shift. You finally, for once had the upper hand. He was trying to get it back telling you matter of fact you’d sleep with him tonight but Layla gestured wildly, mouthing say no, keep him hooked, while you bit back a smirk.

"Hmm... I don't know," you mused, dragging the words out just enough to make him squirm. “I'm so tired." You told him. Trent was panicking. He couldn’t focus on the two simultaneous happenings. 

"Nah, nah,  nah, don't do me like that, bab– ," Trent blurted, his voice softening, but then he caught Noah's smirk out of the corner of his eye. He clenched his jaw, stopping himself after the first  syllable of ‘baby,’ trying to reel it back in. Noah raised an eyebrow, looking far too entertained by the scene.

 "Who is that? Who are we calling baby?" he pressed, stepping closer with mock curiosity. "Got you out here begging, bro." Trent shot him a glare but didn't take the phone away from his ear. 

"Nah." he just dismissed quickly, his tone defensive. “Girl I’m seeing.” He clarified waving Noah off, hoping that was sufficient to get him to leave. 

"No, seriously, who’s this? Who's got you acting like this," Noah continued, his grin growing, mocking Trent.

"Seriously, bro, fuck off," Trent repeated, trying to sound firm but feeling increasingly flustered. On your end, Layla was barely holding in her laughter, watching and listening to this unfold like a soap opera. 

"Looks like someone's been caught out down bad," she whispered, making you giggle softly.

"Stop it," you hissed at her, but your voice was playful, your smile betraying you.

"Baby," Trent said again, ignoring Noah entirely now as he refocused on you. His voice was a mix of pleading and frustration. "Don't make me wait. Please." Layla's eyes widened, interested in his response. You leaned back against your pillows, feeling victorious. 

"You seem to have company. You can text me and I'll think about it.” You teased, your tone light but noncommittal.

"Don't think too long," Trent shot back quickly, a hint of desperation slipping through his controlled exterior.

"Bro, she's got you wrapped so tight. I'm actually impressed." Noah, now sitting on a stool at the kitchen island for the show, bursting into laughter again. Trent groaned, running a hand over his face as he tried to ignore Noah. 

"Baby," he muttered into the phone before you hung up abruptly, not giving him a chance to get another word in. 

“Oh boy… You've got him wrapped around your finger, huh, even his boys are calling him on it.," Layla said, grinning, a mutual flare of victory behind her eyes. Noah smirked, watching as Trent tossed his phone onto the counter and leaned against it, visibly irritated and flustered.

"So, who is she?" Noah prodded once over. 

"Nah, mate…None of your business," Trent replied flatly, though his cheeks betrayed him, flushing with heat. 

"Oh, it's definitely my business now," Noah said, his grin widening. "I've gotta meet the girl who's got TAA tripping over himself like this. Jesus mate… Look at you.” He looked at Trent, eyes wide, almost falling into shock at Trent’s vulnerability. 

"Not happening," Trent muttered, already regretting how much he'd let slip. Meanwhile, back at your place, Layla threw herself onto you, giggling.

"Oh my God, that was perfect! Did you hear him?" She asked like a proud mum. You couldn't help but smile, your phone still warm in your hand. 

"Yeah," you said softly, the sound of Trent's voice still echoing in your ears. "I did." 

“Come on… calling her baby? begging her to get in your bed? How leng is she?” Noah asked Trent, laughing. Trent laughed with him but more out of nerves.

 “Yeah, she’s…” Trent paused momentarily really thinking about how to answer this. It was awkward. Noah knew exactly what you looked liked. They’d in fact had full conversations about Jack’s little sister… but that’s not who he was just on the phone with...and yet unfortunately, it was  “She’s my dream girl, mate.” Trent said it aloud, unable to stop the words falling out. The admission a vocal realization of how deep he was in. Noah’s laughter slowed, his teasing grin softening into something closer to curiosity. 

“Dream girl?” he echoed, eyebrows raised. “You’re proper in it, aren’t you?” Trent let out a nervous laugh, running his hands over his face as if to hide. Saying it out loud felt reckless, but he couldn’t take it back now.

“Uh yeah, man, I guess,” Trent muttered, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the weight of his feelings. “She’s… different. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.” Noah leaned back, crossing his arms, his grin lingering. 

“So, what’s the deal then? Why’re you sneaking around like this? If she’s that great, just bring her around.” Trent hesitated, glancing down at his phone. 

“It’s not that simple.” Trent told him ambiguously. Noah tilted his head, his curiosity sharpening. 

“Not that simple? What, is she married or something?” He let out a laugh, clearly joking, but Trent’s silence made him pause. “Oi, you’re serious? What’s going on here?”  He asked. Trent sighed, shaking his head. 

“She’s not married, man. It’s just… complicated. She’s not someone I can just bring around.” Noah studied him for a moment, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. 

“You’re not usually this cagey about girls, bro. What makes her so special?” Trent’s lips curved into a small, involuntary smile as he thought of you. 

“She’s… mate…” He groaned. “She's everything. But like… she knows exactly how to get under my skin, and I can’t even be mad at her for it. She’s just… s different.” He admitted. Noah’s eyebrows shot up once more. 

“Wow. Fuck. Outta nowhere. Sounds like she’s got you good. So, what’s the holdup? The boys’ll rinse you a bit, sure, but they’ll get over it.” Trent hesitated, glancing away. Noah was slightly confused considering Trent hadn’t been seeing anyone as far as he knew. Yet, suddenly the apparent love of his life existed and he was keeping mum. 

“It’s not the boys. It’s…” He trailed off, catching himself before he said too much. “It’s just… complicated,” he repeated. Noah would be lying if he said you didn’t pop into his head, Trent never was this reserved about girls except about you. He’d clam up in conversations just like this but he immediately dismissed the idea. No way. He raised an eyebrow one again, clearly unconvinced but deciding not to push further. 

“Alright, man. Keep your secrets. But if she’s really your dream girl, maybe stop overthinking it. Sounds like she’d be worth it.” He cooed. Trent nodded, grateful that Noah didn’t press further. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “She is.” As Noah walked out of the room, shaking his head with a chuckle, Trent stayed behind, his thoughts spinning. He hated how close he’d come to slipping up. The truth about you was something he wasn’t ready to share—not with Noah, not with anyone. He couldn’t. Pulling out his phone, he opened your message thread, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing:

'You drove me nuts calling me like that'

'I’m sorry I’m not with you tonight. Let’s change that though'

'I miss you, baby. Please'

'Come over tonight.’

'Pretty girl. WYA '

Hitting send, he sighed, wishing he could call you without all the secrecy. Wishing you were there with him now. You pouted at the messages. As confident as he was with you, as much pull as he had with you, he would go so soft. You frowned looking at Layla showing her the messages. She gave you a sympathetic smile knowing she was going to have to be the backbone here. You didn’t go to Trent’s that night, no matter how many times he asked. Each message pulled at your resolve, every word he sent tempting you to cave. But Layla wouldn’t let you. She sat cross-legged at the foot of your bed, her phone in hand, giving you an almost maternal look whenever you glanced her way.

“Tell him to enjoy movie night with the boys,” she instructed firmly, like she was holding you accountable. “And then put your phone down. He can wait. Let him miss you.” She told you. You sighed, pulling your knees to your chest as you stared at the screen. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to find the right words, ones that didn’t feel like a lie or mean. But all you wanted was to give in. To text him back, I’m on my way, and go to him. To be held. To forget all the chaos and just feel normal again.

Instead, you typed:

‘Enjoy movie night with the boys. I’ll see you soon. xx’

As soon as you hit send, you regretted it. The moment felt cold, detached—nothing like what you were feeling inside. And then came the ache, that deep, gnawing ache in your chest that had settled there the first time you realized being with Trent wasn’t going to be easy.

“Good,” Layla said, leaning back on her elbows like she’d won a small battle for you. “Now, let’s watch something. Distract yourself. Get that boy off your mind for a minute” But you couldn’t. Not really. The night stretched on endlessly, punctuated by the occasional buzz of your phone.

'I wish you were here' 'Can we stop this already?' 'Please come over'  'Baby, I’ll make it up to you' 'Please'

Each text was a lifeline, pulling you closer to giving in. You stared at them for so long the screen dimmed, and Layla had to snatch the phone from your hands. 

“You’re torturing yourself. You told him no, and that’s it.” You shot her a look, but you knew she was right. This was the reality you were living now—pushing and pulling, holding back, trying to find some balance in the chaos. It was exhausting. When you finally climbed into bed that night, the ache in your chest still hadn’t faded. You stared at the ceiling in the dark, wondering if Trent was doing the same. The next morning, you woke up feeling groggy, as though you’d hardly slept at all. The weight of the night before hadn’t lifted. You reached for your phone out of habit, not expecting anything. It buzzed just as your fingers grazed the screen, and you nearly dropped it as Trent’s name lit up.

'Wish I got to see you last night.'

'Was going to swing by this morning but didn’t want to press' 'Boarding my flight now. xx'

You sat up, your stomach sinking as realization hit: you’d completely forgotten he had an away game. And now, you weren’t going to see him for days. The message was short, but you could feel the disappointment behind it. He had wanted to see you. Needed it, maybe. And now he was leaving without that reassurance, without that connection that only you could give him. What if he found comfort somewhere else now? What if all these games pushed him into someone else? Your heart clenched as you stared at the words, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. What could you even say? The whole relationship was starting to feel like a tangled web—secrets, games, hurt feelings. It wasn’t what you wanted. You missed the simplicity of what it had been before. The ease, the honesty, the way you could just be together without second-guessing everything. You typed a response and deleted it twice, agonizing over every word. Eventually, you sent something simple, though it felt inadequate:

'I wish I’d seen you. Safe flight. xx'

As soon as it delivered, your stomach twisted. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t capture how badly you wanted to see him, how much you missed him already. But what else could you say? The distance—both physical and emotional—was becoming unbearable, and you didn’t know how to fix it. You lay back down, holding your phone to your chest. The ache was back, worse than before. You closed your eyes, wishing things could be different. Wishing you could be on that plane with him, just to be close to him, leaving the rest of the world behind.

Leverkusen two, Liverpool nil,… It’d been two days since you dangled yourself in front of Trent like a carrot only to snatch it all away. The problem was… though it felt good in the moment, the aftermath was proving to be worse than you could’ve ever anticipated. You hated that the way you’d left things was in a state of humor, a tease, pushing him away all for a game. When you found yourself in the living room of your house with Trent sat across the room after he’d returned the game you felt sick. His posture hunched and tense, every bit of him radiating frustration and disappointment. All the boys kept making jokes, each one hitting harder than they likely intended. His clenched fists and barely-contained sighs told you just how deep their words were cutting. They didn’t see the way his face fell, the flicker of pain that crossed his eyes with each jab. They didn’t see the way he kept glancing toward you, as though willing you to step in, to pull him out of this moment. You knew he wanted you to see him—to reach him. You wanted to be that person for him, more than anything. You were holding yourself back by sheer force of will, gripping the edges of the sofa with knuckles gone white, willing yourself not to move. Your mind was racing with everything you wanted to say to him, everything you’d have said if you’d just been alone. If no one else was there, you’d already be beside him, leaning into his shoulder, whispering words of encouragement and understanding. You’d have reminded him how talented he was, how one match didn’t define him, how you believed in him more than he could ever know. And maybe you’d even have let your guard down enough to hold him in your arms, the way he’d crave but never ask for. But here you sat, frozen, with your brother on the other side of the room and Jack and Trent’s friends filling the space, each of them blissfully unaware of the silent battle raging between you two. They could never understand the weight of restraint you were feeling. They laughed off his silence as sulking, making exaggerated comments about how he’d ‘bounced back by now’ or joking that he should ‘man up,’ ‘it’s one loss.’  It wasn’t the loss though. They had no idea what was really on the line, how much he was feeling, and how much you were holding back. Every few moments, Trent’s gaze would dart to you, quick and fleeting, with a look that made your stomach turn. It was the kind of look that was desperate, searching, like he was asking if you really cared about him, if you’d be willing to break the unspoken rules to be there for him in this moment. And you wanted to—God, you wanted to reach out and offer him some sliver of comfort. A part of him felt like this was a test, an opportunity. He was beginning to question if this was all a silly game to you. Were you just getting a thrill out of teasing him, making him act like a fool, beg for you, risk things for you… all of these things making him radically weaker. He didn’t want to be weak the way you were making him especially if you didn’t care in these moments. In these moments when he craved you most.  

Finally, he exhaled, a quiet, resigned sigh that felt like a blade slicing through the room. His shoulders sagged as though he’d decided it wasn’t worth hoping anymore, that he’d been foolish to expect more. You felt the shame tighten in your throat, guilt twisting like a knot in your stomach as you watched him swallow his frustration and put on a blank expression, tuning out the laughter and teasing around him. Without thinking, you offered him a small, apologetic smile, a silent reassurance meant only for him. It felt like such a feeble gesture, yet it was all you could give. And as you watched his face fall in response, you realized just how painful that distance was for him, how much he was holding onto every small hint of care you could offer. But it wasn’t enough. Not for him, and not for you. The weight of all the things left unsaid, all the unspoken feelings piling between you, felt unbearable. And in that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about a bad game or hurt pride. This was about you and Trent, and the boundaries you’d set that had slowly turned from necessary to suffocating. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to hide this with you, that you wanted to be there for him no matter who was around, that he didn’t have to pretend everything was fine. But instead, you sat there, lips pressed together, feeling the gulf between you grow wider, the silence stretching and suffocating as you both stayed exactly where you were. You were so scared of Jack noticing the tension but Trent wasn’t even thinking about Jack anymore. He was thinking how when he used to come home after away games, a loss especially… he’d find solace in you. Whether it be a conversation, a cuddle, even a tease and now it had all been yanked away for what felt like in exchange for sex. Yes, the best sex of his life but nevertheless he missed you. His Y/N. You’d bring him comfort that no amount of women he’d fuck out of frustration post match could bring.  Little did you know for years you’d comforted him more after losses than anyone else.

Trent moved purposefully, his posture stiff and unyielding as he walked away from the group. He ignored the teasing laughs, barely acknowledging his friends’ calls for drinks as he made his way to the kitchen, his strides wide and determined, putting distance between himself and everyone else—especially you. His usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced by a heaviness that seemed to weigh down his every step. You offered to help. Your feet padding after him. You followed him, trailing a few steps behind, your heart hammering as you searched for the right words, the perfect gesture to make up for the comfort you’d denied him earlier. But as you reached the kitchen, you found yourself hesitating, feeling suddenly unsure. The kitchen lights cast a faint glow over him, and you caught the slight sag in his shoulders, the way his hands gripped the edge of the countertop, knuckles white with tension. He was trying to hold it together, to keep that wall up, even as everything inside him was breaking down. And for the first time, you saw that hurt so clearly it felt like a knife to the heart. Trent wasn’t just upset about the game, or the loss, or the teasing—he was hurting because you weren’t there. He felt isolated, the pain of the distance between you two evident in his face, like every unspoken word and touch denied had finally hit him all at once. When he turned and met your gaze, it was like every bit of his usual bravado melted away. His eyes were shadowed, raw with emotions he’d held back for so long, and suddenly he looked as vulnerable as you’d ever seen him. And there it was—strong, unwavering Trent, laid bare in front of you, and it wasn’t anger or frustration you saw, but hurt. He was hurt that he couldn’t lean on you, that the boundaries you’d put up for protection had left him feeling like he had no one at all. For years, you had been there for him, in your own subtle ways, always the one who could bring him back after a loss, the one who understood the weight he carried. Now, those small gestures were gone, replaced by a new silence, a void where there had once been comfort. And as he looked at you, you could feel the distance between you two more than ever, the painful shift from confidants to something hidden, fragile, undefined. 

“Trent,” you whispered, the word barely audible, your heart breaking as you watched his gaze fall, unable to meet yours. “I’m… I’m sorry.” For a moment, he didn’t respond, only letting out a long breath, his shoulders sagging further. He finally looked at you, eyes searching, filled with something that was equal parts need and resignation. Your reception was cold when you saw him earlier though . A far cry from what used to happen. You were overdoing the nonchalance  “I don’t know how to be there for you with Jack and them around.” You whispered cautiously looking back over your shoulder. Trent shook his head annoyed by the fear in your volume and posture.

“I always take care of you. Always. And just once I’m asking you to be there for me.”  He spoke to you harshly. His words felt like a yell in comparison to your whisper, though they stayed in the confines of the room. “Please” he muttered out meekly, almost as if he was begging for you and couldn’t stop himself from being so weak for you. His voice tinged with a vulnerability that tore at you. He hated this. Every bit of him ached for you but he was embarrassed by it. Your heart ached, the weight of his words settling over you like a fog, and in that moment, you understood. He didn’t want your apology; he just wanted you. Not in secret, not hidden, but fully and openly. And as the silence hung between you, you felt the depth of his loneliness—how he was standing here, hurting, because he felt he had to keep all of this to himself. It felt like you were choosing everyone else over him. You felt the tension begin to rise. 

“Trent….” You cooed gently, stepping forward. The kitchen island separating you two, worlds apart. He winced at your tenderness before you spoke again. His reaction to your gentleness the unsaid and said words of his, started to spark. Your own emotions about your situation getting the better of you “We’re nothing… How do you want me to act?” You explained trying to make it better. And there it was… nothing. All this fuss for nothing.  Your words cut deep. He let his eyes flutter closed. He felt his blood run cold. He felt like he wanted to be sick. This was awful. How did this happen? His place of comfort, you,  suddenly turned upside down and defined by you as nothing.  Your words hung in the air, slicing through the silence with a weight you hadn’t anticipated. Trent’s expression hardened, his mouth set in a tight line, the softness you’d seen just moments ago completely gone. He looked down, shaking his head in disbelief, almost as if he were absorbing the impact of what you��d just said. You caught yourself and tried to retract. “T… I don’t mean.” You stuttered before he cut you off. 

“Nah, it's cool. Noted. And apparently I’m the one pushing this relationship behind closed doors?” He taunted you. “You just told me I’m nothing to you.” He snapped. You felt like you were going to fall through the floors. His temper flared. Trent had returned. The soft lover boy you made him was gone and he wasn’t about to let you hurt him. “Nothing?” he repeated, almost unsure of the word's definition anymore. “That’s what this is to you?” The words came out with a raw, hurt edge. You could feel yourself faltering, his reaction unraveling the certainty you’d tried to build. There was a fragile tension between you two, a line you both knew you couldn’t keep walking forever, and now it was fraying with every passing second. Your stomach twisted painfully as his eyes flashed with anger, the softness you were so used to seeing in him now buried under layers of hurt. He took a sharp breath, his hands balled into fists as he steadied himself, like he was forcing every word through gritted teeth. “Nothing, yeah?” he repeated, his voice low and harsh, a sharp contrast to the tenderness he usually reserved just for you.

“I just…” you faltered, reaching out toward him, trying to find the words to make it right, but he stepped back, a bitter scoff escaping his lips. “Fucking at parties in the toilet isn’t any sort of commitment, the games… that’s not real. And that’s what it is… to you,” you muffled, recalling every moment you felt hidden away by Trent hammering home how small this must’ve felt to him, but right now, you were learning that wasn’t the case in his mind. 

“You think I’ve been doing all this for nothing?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but the pain was clear. He seemed to be searching your face, looking for any sign that this hadn’t all been in vain, that he hadn’t been holding on for something that didn’t exist outside of stolen moments. “I’ve tried, over and over, to make you feel like this was real to me,” he murmured, his tone laced with frustration and disappointment. “But every time, it’s like… I’m not enough to make you believe it.”

“Trent, it’s not that simple,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. “I just said, I don’t know how to… be there for you when Jack is around, when everyone’s watching us. It’s just…” you trailed off, hating how small and helpless you sounded, knowing it only confirmed his worst fears.

“Nah, I get it.” His voice was laced with frustration, the pain visible in every gesture, every tightly clenched muscle. “So who’s the one hiding, really?” He was being mildly petty but it was steaming from real hurt. You felt a sting as his words hit you. He was right—he was right in a way that made you feel raw and exposed. You had let your fear take over, let it draw lines around a relationship you were too scared to fully step into. The gravity of what he was saying settled over you, pressing down on you with a weight you hadn’t anticipated. He exhaled, pressing his hands into the countertop, looking down as if trying to collect himself. “I know it’s not simple,” he said, a bitter edge to his voice. “But I just… I thought you felt something. I thought we both wanted this.” You could feel yourself trembling, caught between your fear of losing him and the reality of what being with him meant. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel it—if anything, you felt it so deeply it scared you. But facing that truth meant giving up the safety of your old life, and it was that thought that made you hesitate, that kept you on the edge, unable to fully commit. He watched you hesitate. The pain rifled through his heart. He looked at you and sighed. “Baby…” He pleaded. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, seeing you every day and not being able to act like you’re mine?” Trent’s voice was softer now, almost a plea. “It’s… it’s hell. And I’m trying to be patient, but…” he stopped, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes holding a mix of hope and despair. “But I don’t know how much longer I can do this if I’m the only one who’s all in.” The weight of his words settled over you, making your chest tighten with a longing that threatened to pull you apart. You wanted to reach out, to reassure him, to tell him you did feel it, that he wasn’t alone. But the fear, the reality of what this all meant, held you back, leaving you paralyzed. It was confusing because it was so obvious there was a miscommunication but you couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that he genuinely believed he was the one all in. He wasn’t convinced you weren’t as in as he was. In that moment, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen, you could feel the distance between you both stretching further. Trent turned away slightly, letting out a shaky breath, and when he looked back at you, it was with a resignation that made your heart sink. He was tired of fighting for something that felt so uncertain, tired of giving his all only to feel like he was coming up short. He was feeling out of control.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” you whispered, desperate to explain, but Trent only shook his head, looking away as if he couldn’t bear to face you. “T… it’s unfair to say I’m not in this.” You tried to explain. “I don’t understand how I’m meant to show you… or to act differently with you don’t give me the space to do it, when you don’t want it. You don’t want me,” you muttered, you jaw tight. As you continued stating your defense, your reality started to come to light. And it was in sharp contrast to his. “You hiding me like a secret in your bed isn’t being all in.” You tried to explain and he shook his head. He was annoyed that your comment landed and while he understood it but he wouldn’t concede. “I said I’m sorry about tonight but you also could’ve come up to me. You could take what you want… I’m here Trent. I’ve been here.” You hiccuped feeling a lump in your throat form. It felt like you were drawing closer to a stalemate. It made you sick. You could feel it all closing in, what the only resolution would be. “Right now, all I feel is like I’m the one risking everything while you’re here upset at me for following your rules? You pull back the second I want to spend time alone with you, the second the boys might find out but then complain when I’m not on my knees for you, when I’m not a total mess the second you walk in. Waiting.” Your voice broke, and the crack in it cut through you deeper than any argument ever had.

“Maybe… maybe you’re right,” he finally said, the words coming out with a sadness that felt almost unbearable. “Maybe we are nothing.” He threw the word back at you. You felt tears prickling in your eyes, but you couldn’t find the words to make him understand, to make yourself understood. The silence between you grew heavy, and he let out a strained laugh, his voice tinged with bitterness. “You know, I thought you were the one person I could let my guard down with,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “I thought you were different. I thought… I thought you felt the same.” Trent felt sick. 

“Trent, please…” you reached out, but he stepped away, running a hand over his face, visibly trying to steady himself. His gaze fell back on you, guarded and hurt, the vulnerability replaced by a distance that made your chest ache. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t keep feeling like this is all in my head. You’re… You’re fucking with me. You’re hurting me. I just wanted you to be there for me. Tonight, be there for me. Stop toying with me.” He snapped, he seemed to fall back into anger and it made you upset. Toying with you? Was he serious? He couldn’t possibly be serious. 

“I’m fucking with you?” You asked looking for some clarity, to get on the same page but instead everything was blank and all you felt was just anger. The same anger he was feeling. The emotion fell over you fast and hard. He wanted to be done.  If he could accept this. If he could end this… you were in fact like all the others. Disposable. “You want me to be there for you?” You quipped back. Voiced raised. “Everyone thinks I’m obsessed with you, some stupid little girl with a crush on her brother's friend, yeah? That’s what they all think.” You could hear the desperation laced in your tone, the edge of frustration threatening to spill over.  The argument erupted like a dam breaking, years of unspoken words and hidden emotions rushing to the surface all at once. You hadn’t planned for this moment to unfold like this. You hadn’t planned for it at all. But now, the words poured out before you could stop them. Trent’s head jerked back slightly as if the words physically hit him. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing, letting you continue. “And for what? To be pied time and time again? To be hidden away like some dirty little secret?” Your voice broke, and the first tear escaped, but you refused to let yourself falter. “You put me behind closed doors, Trent. Because you’re afraid. So don’t you dare be mad at me for not being able to comfort you. You arranged this.” Trent’s eyes narrowed, his face a mix of hurt and disbelief. He stood rooted in place for a moment, his hands curling into fists at his sides as though he was trying to hold himself back. But he couldn’t.

“Arrange this?” His voice rose, his tone sharp and biting. “You think this is my fault?” He stepped closer, his frame towering over you, the hurt evident in every line of his face. “You kissed me, Y/N. You. Don’t stand there and act like this whole thing—this mess—is all on me.” The memory of that moment—the kiss you’d dreamed of, the one you thought would change everything—now twisted into something ugly. His words were a slap in the face, and the tears came faster now, blurring your vision as you tried to steady your voice.

“Did you not want me to?” you asked, your tone quieter now but no less challenging. Trent opened his mouth, but no words came out. His silence was deafening, a chasm furthering between the two of you. He looked away, his chest heaving, as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes. “Did you not want me to?” you demanded again, louder this time, your voice cracking under the strain. He still couldn’t answer. It was hard to put into words. There was a part of him that questioned if he had wanted you to in retrospect. Yes, he wanted to. He wanted to kiss you but if it meant getting to this place. He wasn’t so sure. You began to cry harder. His silence was deafening. And that was when the floodgates truly broke. “So if you didn’t want me to kiss you,” you said, your voice trembling but louder now, “then what is all this? Why drag me along? Why make me think there was something more?” Your chest heaved with every word, the pain of saying them cutting through you like a blade. “I’m not here for a season of yours, T,” you continued, your voice rising with each word. “I’ve been here your whole life. I’ve waited for you. I’ve waited for this. So you tell me, right now, do you just want the attention, or do you want me?” The kitchen fell silent, your words hanging in the air like a loaded weapon. Trent looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes wide and his expression unreadable. His lips parted as though he was about to say something, but nothing came out. That silence—it wasn’t just awkward. It was unbearable. It was deafening. Finally, Trent exhaled, a long, shaky breath as he looked down, his hands flexing and curling at his sides. He felt like he was going to cry. He’d never made you cry until you started this whole thing and he wanted that back. 

“You’re not being fair,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was no fight left in it. “You’re not being fair to me.” He looked at you honest and terrified. He could feel it all collapsing and there was no way to hold it up. 

“Fair?” you repeated, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “Fair is the last thing this has ever been.” You quipped. Trent’s face twisted into something you’d never seen before—guilt, anger, heartbreak, all mixed into one. His hands moved to his head, dragging down his face in frustration. And then, without another word, he turned and walked away. You blinked, stunned, as you watched him head for the door, his steps heavy, his shoulders slumped “Trent…” you whispered, barely audible, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t want to fight for this version of you anymore.The sound of the door shutting behind him was final, reverberating through the silence like a death knell. The weight of it all hit you at once, your legs buckling beneath you as you sank to the cold floor. Your hands shook as you wrapped them around yourself, the tears coming faster now, sobs wracking your chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Trent was supposed to be your safe space, your person. But now, the relationship you’d built together, the moments you’d shared, felt like they were slipping through your fingers, dissolving into nothing. And as you sat there on the cold kitchen floor, your heart shattered, the question lingered, echoing in the silence: Had you just lost him for good?

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Next part -Chapter 10 - So Different xx