#but i finally caught up to where i left off

[i2sunric]

𝗙𝗔𝗗𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨 (l.hs)

right person, wrong time.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: idol!heeseung x reader (f)

SUMMARY: when you were a child, you had always believed your life was a fairytale, but as you grew up you realised it was just a childish thought. because your story didn’t end with happily ever after.

WARNINGS: heartbreak, break up, heeseung barely has time for reader, he’s a little in denial, reader tries to be strong for the both of them, angst, established relationship, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 20th November 2024

WC: 3.1k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @senascoooop @mitmit01 (project) @whateverhoon

NOW PLAYING: Fade Into You by Mazzy Star

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you entered the quaint café tucked into the corner of the bustling city street.

It was your sanctuary on most days—a place where time slowed down, where you could read in peace.

When your college life got a little too stressful, you liked to give yourself an afternoon of rest, where you could read and just look at all the people around you, while also enjoying a cup of coffee.

The soft hum of conversation and the occasional clink of porcelain cups created a soothing symphony that you had come to associate with comfort.

But today, your usual spot by the window was taken.

Your eyes landed on the stranger sitting there, his face buried in a notebook.

His sharp features were softened by the sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating his messy, dark hair. He looked completely engrossed in whatever he was working on, his pen flying across the page with an intensity that piqued your curiosity. Like he was creating a masterpiece.

But whatever he was doing didn’t matter, since he was sitting in your usual spot. Even the owner knew you always sat there and sometimes left you encouraging notes.

Reluctantly, you found another seat, tucked in the corner, and tried to focus on your book. Nonetheless your gaze kept drifting back to him.

There was something magnetic about the way he existed in his own little world, his brow furrowing as he worked, his lips occasionally quirking up in a small smile as if he were amusing himself with his thoughts.

He was truly enchanting in his whole being.

When he finally looked up, your eyes met. You froze, caught in the act of staring, but instead of looking annoyed, he smiled—wide and genuine, as if he’d just caught an old friend sneaking glances at him.

You unconsciously frowned and averted your gaze, feeling awkward.

Though, you glanced at him again with the former of your eye, “You can sit here if you want,” he called out, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.

Caught off guard, you hesitated a little before grabbing your coffee and book, making your way over. “Thanks,” you murmured, settling into the seat.

You melted into the seat right away, loving the feeling of familiarity. You didn’t particularly enjoy your routine being messed up.

“No problem,” he said, closing his notebook but leaving his pen resting on top. “I always feel bad taking up spots when it’s this busy.”

You glanced down at the notebook, curious but polite enough not to ask. “You looked pretty focused,” you said. “Are you a writer?”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Kind of, I write music.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Really? That’s impressive.”

He laughed softly, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Most of the time, I’m just scribbling nonsense and hoping something good comes out of it.”

“Still,” you said, “It takes a lot of creativity to do that. I can barely write an email without second-guessing myself.”

He grinned. “It’s not about perfection, it’s about letting yourself be…” he pointed at himself “messy.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly from there. You learned his name— Lee Heeseung —and that he was a dreamer through and through. He talked about his music with a passion that lit up his eyes, about the things he wanted to create and the places he wanted to see.

You found out that he was preparing a song to audition at a famous local music label, hoping to become a trainee and debut later on.

It was impressive, how he was young yet so engrossed in his dream. It made you a little jealous, too.

“I think life is about chasing what makes you feel alive,” he said at one point, his gaze distant as if he were imagining it all. Picturing his future together.

You couldn’t help but smile, though your own perspective was far more grounded. “I think life is about appreciating the small things,” you countered. “Like this coffee, or a really good book.”

You tapped your nails on the mug, “Chasing big dreams is great, but if you’re always looking ahead, you miss what’s right in front of you.”

Heeseung tilted his head, considering your words. “I guess I never thought about it that way,” he admitted. “But doesn’t staying still scare you? Like you’re missing out on something bigger?”

“And doesn’t constantly moving forward scare you?” you shot back. “Like you’re missing what’s already here?”

He laughed, the sound warm and light. “Touché. I think we might be complete opposites.”

“Maybe,” you said with a small smile. “But opposites can complement each other, right?”

He smiled back, and in that moment, something shifted between you. It was as if the universe had nudged you toward each other, two different pieces of the same puzzle finally fitting together.

It didn’t take much for the two of you to levitate closer, to the point of going from casual reading-writing hangouts to dates.

Fitting both of your schedules was difficult, but those little hours you spent together were worth it all.

It was one of the rare days where Heeseung was free from any training sessions, and instead of getting his much needed rest, he decided to spend his afternoon with you

Despite nagging at him for his lack of self-care, you were secretly glad he was making time for you, even if it was just for a couple of hours.

The sun was high in the sky, its golden rays filtering through the trees as you and Heeseung lay on the grass in the park.

A blanket was spread out beneath you, scattered with remnants of your picnic, empty containers, a couple of soda cans, and a half-eaten bagel. All the strawberries had been eaten, though.

Heeseung was strumming his guitar lazily, the soft melody weaving through the air. You were lying on your back, staring up at the clouds, feeling the kind of peace that only came from moments like this—unhurried, unplanned, perfect in their simplicity.

“Look,” you said, pointing to a fluffy cloud drifting overhead. “Doesn’t that one look like a cat?”

Heeseung stopped playing and tilted his head, squinting at the sky. “A cat? No way. That’s totally a dragon.”

You laughed, nudging him with your foot. “You’re just saying that because you like dragons.”

“And you’re just saying cat because you’re obsessed with them,” he teased, leaning back on his elbows to look at you. “Admit it, I’m right.”

“Never,” you said with a grin, sticking out your tongue.

Heeseung set his guitar aside and rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he looked at you. “You’re so stubborn,” he said, but there was no annoyance in his voice—only affection.

“Someone has to keep you on your toes,” you quipped, your smile softening under his gaze.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You know,” he said quietly, “I think this might be my favourite day ever.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, but you couldn’t help but smile. “It’s just a picnic,” you said, trying to downplay the fluttering in your chest.

“It’s not just a picnic,” he said, his voice serious now. “It’s this. Being here with you, doing nothing, and feeling like it’s everything.”

It was true that song writers had their way with words.

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. It was just you and Heeseung, the grass beneath you, the sky above, and the quiet certainty that this was where you were meant to be.

You climbed onto his lap, sneaking in between his chest and his guitar.

“Teach me how to play it,” You said, which sounded so silly. You didn’t even know how to read notes, so you were a lost cause.

But you wanted to spend time with him, doing something he liked— so, you placed your fingers on the cords.

Heeseung smiled and placed his slender ones over yours, guiding your hand to create a melody.

“Middle finger here.” He whispered, his hand moving your fingers “Index here, and with the other hand you…” He stroked your fingers on the cords.

You giggled happily “It sounded good.” You tried to do it again and again, until he showed you all the notes and melodies. Until the sun lowered, leaving a magenta and pinkish sky behind.

“I’ll be busy for a while.” He announced as he put his guitar back in its folder “I- uh, I have just one more month until I know if I’m in the debut group.”

You widened your eyes at the information, a warm feeling in your belly “Hee… that’s amazing.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

Like the habit of a lifetime, his arms held your waist, his face burying in the crook of your neck.

“We might have less time together,” He murmured, his nose brushing your jaw, the sensation causing goosebumps to prickle your skin.

“We’ll figure it out, yeah?” You said, holding his face in your hands “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Your words caused a childlike smile to spread on his lips, and just a couple of seconds later, they crashed on yours.

You drowned in the feeling of him, so sweet and intoxicating.

“I love you.” Heeseung repeated those three words like a mantra “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” You replied, being so close to him even if it didn’t feel close enough “I always will.”

The café had always been your place. The corner table by the window where sunlight streamed in during the mornings and rain traced delicate patterns on the glass during stormy afternoons. It was where you and Heeseung had spent countless hours together—talking, laughing, and dreaming of a future that now felt so far away.

It hadn’t changed. The same rustic charm, the same scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries, the same corner table by the window. You almost smiled as you stepped inside, but the weight in your chest reminded you why you were here.

The café hadn’t changed, but today, the warmth of those memories was overshadowed by the tension that hung between you like a storm cloud, ready to burst. Just like the one outside.

Heeseung was already waiting, his tall frame hunched slightly over his coffee. His fingers fidgeted with the rim of the cup, a nervous habit you recognized instantly. He didn’t look up when the bell over the door chimed. You wondered if he was gathering his thoughts just as you were.

For a moment, you stood frozen, debating whether to walk back out and pretend you hadn’t come. Pretend nothing was wrong and it was all just a bad dream.

That you’d wake up in his arms again, with his messy hair and soothing voice, reminding you how fortunate he was to have someone like you.

But then his head lifted, and his eyes found yours. A small, uncertain smile tugged at his lips, and despite everything, it made your heart ache.

“Hey,” he greeted as you approached, his voice soft but strained.

“Hi,” you replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

Up close, you noticed how tired he looked. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually bright demeanor seemed dimmed, weighed down by the invisible tension between you. You wondered if you looked the same.

Heeseung shifted in his seat, his fingers still fidgeting. “Thanks for coming,” he said after a moment.

You nodded, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen this coming. The late-night texts that dwindled into silence. The calls that went unanswered. The months of trying to hold on, even as the cracks in your relationship grew deeper.

“How’s… everything?” you asked, though you weren’t sure you wanted the answer.

Heeseung hesitated, his gaze dropping. “Busy,” he admitted. “Rehearsals, schedules… you know how it is.”

Yes, because Heeseung had managed to debut, and his group had a large audience, growing famous even overseas. It was a surprise he came in a public place, without something to cover himself with.

You nodded again, the lump in your throat growing. Of course, you knew. His career had always been demanding, and you’d tried so hard to understand, to support him even when it meant putting your own needs aside.

But you were tired. Tired of being a second choice, tired of all the dates where he stood you up, all the excuses.

You needed stability in your life, and Heeseung couldn’t give you that. Not anymore.

“I missed you.” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Your breath hitched. “I missed you too.”

You tried to focus on the rain outside, but the sound of his quiet sigh brought your attention back to him. His usually bright eyes were clouded, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on both of you.

“This isn’t how I thought it would go,” his voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if speaking the words aloud might make them more real.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your cup. “Neither did I,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

The truth was, you had both tried—tried to hold on, to make it work despite the endless obstacles. His chaotic schedule, your demanding responsibilities, the miles that always seemed to stretch too far between you. But no matter how much love there was between you, reality had a way of tearing at the seams.

“I feel like I’m failing you,” Heeseung said, his voice trembling slightly. He looked up at you, his expression a mixture of guilt and heartbreak. “Like I can’t give you what you need, no matter how much I want to.”

Your chest tightened at his words. “You’re not failing me,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Heeseung, you’ve always given me everything you could. But maybe… maybe it’s just not enough anymore.”

The admission hung heavy in the air, and you hated yourself for saying it. But it was the truth. Love wasn’t supposed to feel this hard, was it?

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired—tired in a way that went beyond the late nights and endless rehearsals. “I thought love was supposed to be enough,” he murmured, echoing your thoughts.

You wanted to reach out, to take his hand and tell him that it was enough. That he was enough. But deep down, you both knew that wasn’t true.

“It’s not about love,” you said quietly. “It’s about timing. And right now… it feels like the world is against us.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the table. “So what are you saying?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You hesitated, your heart breaking as you forced yourself to say the words. “I’m saying that maybe we need to let each other go.”

His head shot up, his eyes wide and filled with a pain that mirrored your own. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “We can figure this out. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? We can keep trying.”

But the desperation in his voice only made it harder. You had been trying for so long, and the effort had left you both exhausted. “Heeseung,” you said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “What if trying is what’s hurting us?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Heeseung’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles turning white. “This isn’t fair,” he said, his voice cracking. “I love you. I love you more than anything, and it’s not fair that we have to end like this.”

You reached out then, your hand covering his. His skin was warm, but the touch felt fleeting, like trying to hold onto sand slipping through your fingers. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough to fix everything. It’s better if we let go.”

Heeseung’s head shook, his eyes wide and filled with a mix of disbelief and hurt. “You don’t mean that,” he said, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to mean it,” you said, your voice breaking. “But we’re tearing ourselves apart trying to hold on, Heeseung. And I don’t want us to end up resenting each other because of it.”

His hand tightened around yours, his grip almost desperate. “I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’re the one thing that keeps me grounded. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

The rain outside grew heavier, the sound filling the empty space between you.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Heeseung said suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. “And the thought of not having you in my life… I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with that.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away. “You’ll be okay and so will I,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “And maybe someday… when the timing is right, we’ll find our way back to each other.”

Heeseung let out a shaky breath, his hand tightening around yours. “Someday,” he repeated, though the word felt more like a wish than a promise.

You stayed like that for a moment, holding onto each other as if the world might stop if you let go. But eventually, you pulled away, your heart breaking as you stood.

“I’ll always love you,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the rain.

Heeseung looked up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll always love you too.”

And with that, you turned and walked out into the storm, the sound of the rain mixing with the quiet sobs you could no longer hold back.

You didn’t look back, afraid that if you did, you might never be able to leave. But even as you walked away, you carried him with you—his voice, his laughter, his love.

It wasn’t the ending you wanted. But not all the stories ended happily ever after.

[aquaticmercy]

Full Throttle

Summary : Bucky thinks he hooked up with a really pretty mechanic. 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x motorcycle racer!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : cursing. Sex is implied. Bucky on a motorcycle. Purely self-indulgent fic.

Word count : 3.9k

Note : reader is a MotoGP rider! I’m still reeling from the championship battle last week that I just needed to write this. Also I apologise for everyone who wasn’t tagged in waste a moment! I lost half my notes and I’ve been trying to recover it. Hopefully it’ll be resolved by tomorrow. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just drawn to motorcycles because they were fast or dangerous— at least not entirely. 

He loved them because of the freedom they gave him, the sense of control when everything else in his life felt it had spiralled into oblivion. Riding demanded focus and precision—all the things he’d spent the last couple of years training. 

When he was on his bike, the world faded away. There was only the hum of the engine, the wind in his hair, and the open road.

And sure, being on the road was fun, but sometimes, all he wanted was a challenge.

That’s when he found the dirt track in the edge of town— a place where he could train for missions that called for high-speed chases— a place he could lose himself for a while. 

It was something fun to do once in a while, you know? Sam would call this a hobby.

The roar of engines and the earthy tang of kicked-up dirt felt like home. In a way, it was strangely meditative. It reminded him of what it felt like to be human— to push himself to the limit, to make mistakes and learn.

Every Tuesday, after training, he came to the track. 

And every Tuesday, so did you.

The first time he saw you, Bucky had to do a double take. You were standing by your bike, helmet tucked under one arm, dirt streaked across your padded leather jacket.

Bucky was no stranger to beautiful people, but there was something about you that struck him differently— maybe it was the confidence in the way you carried yourself or the fire in your eyes when you looked his way. Either way, he was floored.

At first, he figured you were just another skilled rider trying to forget the world. That it was just a hobby, like it was to him. But as the weeks went on, you realised this was your life. 

It must be.

The way you rode was… incredible. Every turn was sharp, calculated. Precise. 

And despite your obvious talent, you never made a big deal about it. Just like you never made a big deal out of the fact that he was the fucking Winter Soldier. 

Of course, you knew who he was—he’d caught the occasional glint of recognition in your eyes. But you never brought it up, never asked for autographs or photos. Instead, you treated him like just another guy at the track.

That didn’t mean you didn’t flirt, though.

Every now and then, you’d throw him a cheeky grin. You’d playfully tell him things like, “Nice lap, soldier,” and Bucky would just blush (which you found adorable, of course).

He would always try to laugh it off, but the truth was, your teasing left his heart racing faster than his bike ever could.

—

Bucky had been working up the nerve for weeks, and today, he thought he would finally bite the bullet. 

Today he was going to ask you out. 

You were wiping the sweat from your brow when he leaned casually against his bike, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“You’re always here on a Tuesday,” he said, before mentally groaning at himself

What the fuck was that? He thought. Is Always here on a Tuesday really the best flirty opening line he had? It was not even an open-ended question. It was just an observation. Nice one, Barnes.

But instead of brushing him off, you paused, setting your gloves down with an amused spark lighting up in your eyes. “Could say the same for you, Barnes.” You tilted your head and gave a casual shrug, acting as if having a stunning super soldier gawking over you wasn’t flattering. “You stalking me?”

The corner of his lips curved upward, the nervous tension melting away ever so slightly. “Maybe I just like the view.”

That earned him a smirk. You let your eyes descend over him—his dark hair falling in perfect disarray, his shirt clinging to his chest under his jacket. “Sure,” you teased. 

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ve got a good reason to show up.”

“Oh?” you asked, stepping closer, tossing your helmet onto your bike seat with a little dramatic flair. “Don’t tell me the Winter Soldier needs more practice catching bad guys on a bike. Thought you had that down.”

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, letting his gaze linger on you. “Never hurts to train. Especially when there’s someone like you around to keep me humble.”

“Humble?” You quirked an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned a hip against the leather seat of the bike. “Looked pretty cocky last week, pulling that stunt to take down the bad guy.”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “You saw that?”

It had been a theft— some guy thought he could steal experimental weapons from an old Stark warehouse and get away with it. Not his cleanest chase, but he did the job.

“Please, it was all over the news. Did you not see the four helicopters following the chase?” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I gotta say, you’re not bad, Barnes.”

“Not bad?” he echoed, feigning offence.

You leaned in just a little, dropping your voice. “I’ve seen smoother turns. If you want pointers, I could teach you a thing or two.”

His lips parted, but no words came out for a moment as he processed how close you were. “You offering lessons now?”

You laughed before gesturing at his bike. 

This was his dirt bike, a recreational bike— not the one he used for the chase last week. Still, it could use a bit of… fine tuning. 

“Tell you what, soldier,” you said, “Fix that lag in your throttle response first. Then I’ll teach you a thing or two about taking corners.”

Bucky tilted his head, narrowing his eyes “There’s nothing wrong with my throttle response.”

“Oh, honey,” you purred, stepping just close enough for your shoulder to brush his. “I could hear it lagging from halfway across the track.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 

“You saying I need a tune-up?”

“I’m saying,” you said, your voice like velvet, “that if you wanna keep up, you’re gonna need a better setup.”

He couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He still didn’t have the guts to ask you out that day, but he walked away with hope, that maybe, this could grow into something more.

—

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been walking around with that goofy smile lately?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look.

“What smile?” Bucky muttered, immediately defensive.

“The one you think nobody notices,” he shrugged. “Spill it, Buck. What’s her name?”

Bucky hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t planned to tell anyone about his little crush. least of all Sam, but the look on his friend’s face said he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he said, exhaling. “There’s this girl.”

Sam grinned. 

“She goes to the dirt track I go to every Tuesday,” Bucky said, staring at the bottle in his hands like it held the secret to not sounding like a lovesick idiot as he told him all about you. 

—

From then on, Tuesdays became his favourite day of the week.

Bucky found himself counting down the hours until he could see you again, his mind replaying every smile, every laugh, every teasing touch.

You became bolder, not afraid of calling him handsome, of touching his arm even if it wasn’t necessary. 

And damn it if didn’t make his heart race.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling session on the track, Bucky decided he’d had enough of dancing around what he wanted. 

Leaning casually against his handlebars, he called out, “Race me.”

You looked up, one eyebrow raising in surprise. “What’s in it for me?” you asked, folding your arms and tilting your head in that way that always made his stomach flip.

“If you win,” he started, “you get bragging rights for a week.”

“A week, huh?” You repeated dramatically, “and if you win?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slow grin, trying to appear confident even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “I get your number.”

Your giggle rang out, bright and sweet, and for a second, Bucky forgot how to breathe. “You got yourself a deal, soldier,” you said, shaking your head. 

—

The two of you lined up at the start of the track, engines growling. 

Bucky’s focus sharpened—he wasn’t just racing for pride; he was racing for the chance to finally take a step toward something he had wanted for months now. 

When the signal came, you both shot off like bullets, dirt kicking up in clouds behind your tires. Bucky pushed his bike to the limit, leaning into every corner, his muscles strained with effort, grappling the dirt bike for control. But no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were holding back. 

You were supposed to be faster, more precise than this sloppy performance you were giving. He’d seen you before. What happened?

As you neared the final stretch, you slowed, just enough for him to surge ahead and cross the finish line first. 

He skidded to a stop, panting and exhilarated, but the smug grin on your face told him everything he needed to know.

When you walked over later and handed him a scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it, you leaned in close enough for him to catch the faint scent of sweat and motor oil. “You won it fair and square,” you said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You let me win.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you feigned innocence, but couldn’t help the grin widening on your face.

He tucked the paper into his pocket, shaking his head.

As you put on your helmet back on, you casually remarked, “Throttle’s still lagging, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky groaned, pretending to be annoyed. Secretly, he was thrilled to keep the conversation going. “I think it’s the fuel filter, but I haven’t had time to swap it out.”

“I’ve got one at my place,” you told him, turning on your engine, “Why don’t you come by?”

His head snapped up, surprised at the offer. “Now?”

“Why not?” 

—

When arrived at your place, he had braced himself for something simple—a cosy apartment, maybe a small cluttered corner dedicated to your bike tools. 

What he hadn’t expected was this.

Standing in the doorway, he blinked at the modern yet homey design laid out before him. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden evening light, reflecting off polished floors and expensive-looking furniture. The view of the city stretched out like a postcard behind you as you stood, arms crossed, watching him with a hint of amusement.

“This… is your apartment?” he asked, taking a step inside. His greasy leather jacket suddenly felt so out of place. His gaze darted over to a marble countertop in the kitchen, a plush couch, and then the walls— lined with the kind of art he’s only seen in high society auctions.

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not what you expected, Barnes?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not really…”

“Ah,” you replied, moving toward a door off the main living area. “So just because I work with bikes, I can’t have nice things?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered quickly, following you.

You threw a sly glance over your shoulder. “Didn’t have to.”

He tried to think of a witty response, but he was distracted by the thought of you—the way you moved, confident and unbothered, like you belonged in every room you entered.

You led him to a heavy door and pushed it open, revealing a contrast to the rest of the apartment— your workshop.

The workshop smelled like oil, grease, and faintly of rubber, the air swirling with the comforting scent of metal and machinery. The walls were lined with shelves holding neatly organised tools, spare parts, and bottles of lubricants. A stripped-down high-performance bike stood at the centre of the room, its engine exposed, wires and cables hanging loose. 

Now this room, he thought, was undoubtedly you.

“This is more like it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“See?” You smirked, moving to grab the replacement part he needed. “I’m not as fancy as you think.”

After pulling his bike through the back, he leaned against the wall, watching as you crouch next to his bike and get to work. 

For a moment, he was quiet.

He watched in silence— the way your hands moved with precision, the way you were entirely in your element. 

“So,” you began, glancing up at him. “What’s the Winter Soldier doing on a dirt track every Tuesday, anyway? Don’t you have, I don’t know, a world to save?”

He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “The world can wait.”

You laughed softly, returning your focus to the filter. 

“I get it, kind of,” you replied, loosening a bolt. “Wanting to get away from everything.”

From then on, the conversation came effortlessly. 

At first, he kept it light, sticking to anecdotes about the track or the occasional joke about his less-than-smooth bike handling in the beginning. But there was something about the way you listened—your easy, genuine curiosity—that made him feel safe, like he didn’t have to keep everything locked away anymore.

At one point, he couldn’t help but ask how someone who worked with bikes could afford a place like this. You only shrugged with a smile, giving the same answer you always did: “I got lucky.” He didn’t press, though he was curious—the ease in which you sidestepped the question intrigued him.

Before long, the conversation drifted again. He found himself sharing more than he ever thought he would. He told you about his missions, the chaos of his Winter Soldier days, the things he’d done and the memories he was still piecing together. 

And you listened—not with pity, but with an understanding that felt rare, even among the people he called friends.

“You’re good at this,” he finally said. 

“Bikes?”

“People,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Well, bikes are like people,” You tilted your head, studying him with a small, curious smile. “Both require care, attention, and understanding to perform at their best.”

When you finally finished, you stood, wiping your hands on a cloth. “All set,” you said, gesturing toward his bike. 

“Thank you.” he said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he lingered, his eyes on you as you leaned back against the counter.

“So,” you said, breaking the thick silence, your voice dipping into something almost playful. “You gonna stick around, or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere important,” he admitted quietly.

He took a step closer, then another.

The space separating you seemed to dissolve, his eyes locked on yours, pulling you in like gravity.

“Careful,” you murmured, teasing. “I might think you’re stalling just to spend more time with me.”

His lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile. “And if I am?”

The words hit you like a shot of adrenaline, your heart beating out of your chest. There was no humour in his tone, no hint of the usual back-and-forth banter that had defined so many of your conversations. Just desire staring back at you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He was close now, so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, his metal hand brushing against the counter as he leaned in.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, a low growl in his throat. He cupped your jawline, mustering all the courage she could possibly gather. 

You didn’t.

Instead, your lips parted in anticipation as he leaned in. Unable to bear it any longer, you tilted your head up, meeting him halfway.

The first press of his lips against yours was gentle, and the second was anything but. The restraint shattered immediately, giving way to something feral. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving with a hunger that’s been brewing since he first saw you on the track.

Your hands found his chest, sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. You tugged him closer, your chest pressing against his. He let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When you finally broke apart for air, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mixing in the narrow space between you. His voice was husky, as if he was still recovering. “I should really take you out on a date first.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still fisted in his shirt. “You can still do that.”

His lips brushed yours again. “Aren’t you trouble?”

“You love it,” you whispered, grinning wickedly as you pulled him back in.

The next kiss was hotter, hungrier—  it consumed you both. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed you out of the workshop and into the apartment. 

Your movements were uncoordinated, messy, your lips never leaving his as you stumbled against walls, furniture, and whatever else got in the way.

By the time you reached the bedroom, nothing else mattered.

—

Bucky woke to the soft light peeking through your curtains.

The scent of coffee reached him first. When he stumbled out of your bedroom, he spotted you at the marble kitchen counter, leaning on your elbows with a steaming mug in hand. You were dressed in one of your oversized shirts— and looked far too innocent for all the filthy things you did to him last night.

“Mornin’ doll,” he greeted  as he sat across from you.

“Morning,” you chuckled at his adorable tousled hair. 

“So…” he started, his voice thick with sleep, “about that date…”

You smirked, setting your mug down and sauntered around the island kitchen. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Sunday?” he offered, watching you with a lazy smile as you perched on the stool next to his.

You shook your head, “I work weekends.”

That caught him off guard, but he didn’t let it show. “Remind me what exactly it is you do?”

“Bikes,” you said simply, the corner of your mouth twitching like you were holding back sensitive information.

He chuckled, assuming you were talking about your mechanic work. “Fair.”

You hummed, but the mischievous glint in your eyes didn’t escape him.

He tilted his head, curiosity tugging at the edge of his thoughts, but he decided not to push. You’d tell him when you wanted to. Instead, he flashed a small grin. “I’ll text you to arrange something, then.”

“You better,” you teased, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You won my number, Barnes. Don’t make me regret giving it to you. 

The challenge in your tone made his smirk widen, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “Oh, I won’t.”

—

That Sunday, Bucky was slouched on Sam’s couch, one leg kicked over the side of the coffee table, a book resting on his chest. Sam, on the other hand, was waging war with the TV remote, flipping through channels at record speeds.

“Just pick something already,” Bucky grumbled without looking up.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring him. 

“Oh, MotoGP’s on,” he said suddenly, tossing the remote aside.

Bucky didn’t even glance at the screen at first, the low growl of engines and the commentator’s frantic observation was little more than background noise. But something about the sheer speed on display tugged at his attention. He finally looked up— and when he did, he could not take his eyes off the screen.

The camera focused on a Ducati weaving through the pack with a relentlessness that looked… familiar. The rider’s movements were fluid, each turn carved with precision, every overtake risky but calculated.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, leaning forward. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan— but he did watch these races from time to time. It always intrigued him, the danger they willingly took to win a race. “Look at—did you see that overtake?”

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the rider. There was something about them—the way they leaned into each corner, never hesitating, always pushing for the absolute edge of human limitation.

The commentator’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“And there it is! The factory Ducati taking the lead with that beautiful overtake from the inside line! Unbelievable control!”

The Ducati was now in front, pulling away from the others as the final lap approached. 

Bucky watched, as they flew through a sweeping right turn, knees and shoulders skimming the asphalt like it was second nature.

As the Ducati roared down toward the finish line, the chequered flag waved. 

First place.

The crowd erupted, but Bucky barely heard it. The rider slowed, their gloved fist pumping the air, before coming to a stop after the cooldown lap. 

The other riders were congratulating them, patting their helmet with friendly taps.

Soon, the camera zoomed in, capturing the moment they pulled off their helmet.

And Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

No helmet, no visor—just you, smiling that confident smile that he knew so well.

Oh. He was stupid. Bucky Barnes was so incredibly stupid.

Of course you were a motorcycle racer. The sleek apartment, the effortless style, the way you moved on the dirt track. The way you told him you worked on weekends— it all made perfect sense.

And yet, somehow, he'd convinced himself you were a mechanic. Of course he did.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, bolting upright.

Sam shot him a confused look. “What?”

“That’s her,” Bucky said, his voice low in disbelief.

“Who’s ‘her’?”

“The mechanic,” he said, gesturing at the TV, as you celebrated with your team of race engineers. “The girl I told you about. That’s her.”

Sam blinked, staring at the screen, then back at Bucky. “Wait—you’re telling me she fixed up your fuel filter?”

Bucky didn’t answer, still staring at the screen. You were heading toward the press now, handing your helmet to a crew member as reporters swarmed you.

The camera cut for a post-race interview. You looked exhilarated, but still composed as you answered questions about your strategy— about the win. 

Then the interviewer threw in a curveball:

“You’ve been on a hot streak lately. Is there anyone you want to dedicate this victory to?”

You hesitated just long enough for a sly grin to tug at your lips. Then, you looked directly into the camera.

“This win’s for a super soldier,” you said, your tone as playful as ever. You made a phone gesture with your fingers and winked. “Call me, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Sam burst out laughing, but in no less shock. “I cannot believe you hooked up with her! Bucky, You lucky son of a—“

But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore.

He couldn’t believe it. Of course he could keep up— you were literally leagues ahead of him.

And somehow, you were still into him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam said, nudging him hard enough to make him wince. “You gonna call her or not?”

Bucky didn’t answer, already scrambling for his phone. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked it, a smile already tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure what he was gonna say when you picked up, but he knew one thing for certain: Tuesdays just got a whole lot more interesting.

-end.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hey chat...

I literally have so many scenarios in my head it's killing me

Could you do a scenario where the reader shields Isha from the blast (or whatever) which results in her on the verge of death. How will jinx deal with it? And how will she save her

(I'm trying to cope with the loss of my baby Isha 😞💔)

Sure! Here ya go but probably sucks, haven’t wrote one of these in a while! Enjoy!

Heading photos made by @diana-foggy-master !

Sacrificial

You could only process what the girl was thinking when her small feet started running past you helping Jinx off the ground.

The familiar act was so hard to miss. It was like watching Powder all over again all those years ago the night everything went wrong.

You couldn’t handle it again.

“Jinx? Jinx- I’m so sorry.” You apologized to your lover on the ground. Jinx looked at you, confused with her face having splatters of blood drops. But she was so confused. What were you sorry for?

It only clicked when she saw you running after Isha into what she knew she would never get you back from.

“No- no!” Jinx cried out, getting up with the look of horror on her face when you ran. She tried reaching for you like you did her all those years ago, only to fall short. She lost you.

She lost you before you even got to the girl.

Isha was right within your grip, tears falling from your face as you knew you wouldn’t be coming back home to your lovers and your bed.

“Isha!” You yelled, reaching for her as she kept running, shoving gemstone after gemstone into Jinx’s gun.

“(Name)! Isha! No!” Jinx cried, trying her best to get to the both of you as Isha slid to the ground, moving just like Jinx taught her to as she finally got to Vander.

Jinx was caught by Vi, crying and blubbering as her heart and chest constricted at the thought of you leaving her with her mind.

What was she gonna do? She couldn’t fix this once it was done.

Isha had barely mimicked Jinx back at her, the little finger gun motion breaking your head. Isha wasn’t dying. This wasn’t how she was gonna say goodbye.

Isha lifted the gun to Vander, and by the look on his face as he saw you nearing you could tell he had no control over this. Just like back then.

Isha had barely closed her eyes, and you saw the smile on her face. She looked almost content to die. Like it was a release. You felt bad for taking it from her.

She barely pulled the trigger when you grabbed her, pulling her to your chest and curling around her.

Isha’s eyes shot open, panicked for a split second as she tried to push you away and out of there. But you were older. Stronger. The way you wished when you were younger to be like Vi.

You barely managed a smile to Isha as you held her, and even years later she could still hear your voice and see your smile as you whispered in her ear.

“You’ll be okay. Take care of her for me, will ya?”

The gun went off.

And you were gone.

The reaction was immediate. Isha didn’t feel you anymore. She was cold, your arms around her gone as she finally opened her eyes after praying to whatever god there was that you were okay.

Nothing.

Not anything of you was left behind.

All she heard was Jinx’s wailing, and her little heart dropped to her stomach at the realization.

You were gone.

Because of her. Isha took you from Jinx.

“Isha! Why- why would you do that?!” Jinx cried, even though she knew you’d hate to hear the words coming from her mouth but she couldn’t stop herself.

She pushed Vi off of her, running to Isha out of relief and anger as she searched for you to come up with nothing.

She grabbed the girl by her shoulders, crying and blubbering as she sobbed.

“Why would you- (Name)?! (Name)!” Jinx cried, yelling it out as she searched for you.

Isha had no idea what to do with Jinx’s anger but cry with her as she felt your absence.

Jinx wasn’t able to process this, and Vi could only watch as the one thing her sister held dear to her heart from when they were kids, you, was gone. Just like that.

Jinx’s sobs turned to wails as she felt her heart being ripped from her chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

You were supposed to be okay. Vander was supposed to come back. They were supposed to stay and be happy. Vi could even be there.

Jinx had her family back, and now it was all gone.

Her wails kept going, she gripped onto Isha cause she would be damned if she let her out of her sight for her to be taken to.

Her head fell to Isha’s shoulder, the girl's cries mixing with her own as Isha’s little fingers gripped onto her.

Jinx and Isha crumbled together on the floor, crying and sniffling and sobbing. What happens now? What comes next?

How can anything come next…when you’re gone?

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 17

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16

Eddie’s back to school on Tuesday, black eye turning a mottled sort of green, lip scabbed over. From where he’s hemmed in by Robin and Chrissy, Steve watches Eddie catch a glimpse of him and bolt the other way.

Jeff sighs, lets go of his hold on Chrissy’s arm, and says, “sorry, Steve. I’m just gonna—” and then he points toward Eddie and follows after him without another word.

Steve’s gut clenches with guilt. He’d put that look on Eddie’s face, had caused the rift in his and Jeff’s friendship, had split the forming group up with his ridiculous crush. But Chrissy and Robin are still here, standing by his side.

“Are he and Jeff okay?” Steve asks, biting his lip as he glances at Chrissy.

“I think so,” she says, looking after her boyfriend. “They talked on the phone, but Jeff didn’t tell me what about.”

“Forget about them,” Robin replies, reaching out to take his hand even as it makes everyone around them stare. “Come on, Stevie, or we’ll be late to Ms. Clickity Clack’s class.”

Steve passes the rest of the day in a daze, the spot at his side a revolving cast of Chrissy, Robin, and Jeff, like they’d all talked behind his back and decided he couldn’t be trusted with being alone right now. Steve can’t blame them because as soon as he’s left unattended in his big empty house, he gets out his notebook and pen, and begins to write.

   Eddie —

   I’m sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasn’t for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And I’m sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. I’m just full of sorries I’m to scared to tell to your face—from the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldn’t want me to anyway.

   You’ve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. I’m sorry about that too, I’m the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but that’s no excuse.

   I don’t know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I can’t turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. There’s a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know?

   I’m sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, I’ll get to say it to your face.

   Sorry,

   Steve

He closes the notebook on the damning words and shoves it into his nightstand so he doesn’t have to look at it. Sleep doesn’t come—the house is too quiet. He grabs the phone off his dresser and calls the only other person he knows whose parents trust them enough to have a phone in their bedroom.

“H’lo?” Robin mutters sleepily after finally picking up the phone six rings later.

She sounds tired—Steve’s sorry he woke her. “I wrote another letter,” he says.

That seems to perk her up instantly, as she hisses down the line, “Steven James Harrington.”

“Not my name, Robin Steven Bobbington,” he replies, talking right over her shrieked “well, that’s not mine!” to continue, “I’m not going to send it.”

“You better not,” she replies, and Steve can hear some rustling on her end, like she’s settling back down into her bed. He wishes, suddenly, that he was in there with her, clutching her hand as they fall asleep side by side. Instead, he lays down on his own bed and concentrates on the noises coming down the line.

“Is it stupid that I miss him?” he asks.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Robin!”

She laughs, a quiet sleepy chuckle that warms him straight through. “I’m just saying! He’s been treating you like shit, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, burrowing down under his comforter and taking the phone with him. “He was different in the letters,” he whispers, like someone in his empty house might hear him otherwise. “Sweeter, you know?”

Robin sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s enough sorries to go around for all of them, apparently. They’re quiet for a while, Robin’s breathing keeping him company in his big, lonely bed with his big, lonely thoughts.

“I love you, Robbie,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”

He’s been saying it a lot lately, throwing the words around like they’ll connect this time and get him something real. And they had, with Chrissy, with Robin, hell, even with Jeff. Just, not with Eddie. Maybe someday, he’ll learn to be okay with that.

“Love you, too, Dingus,” Robin replies, like it’s easy.

He falls asleep that night to the sound of Robin’s quiet snoring.

***

Eddie thinks about it—obsessively, compulsively. He dreams about it, jerks off about it, fucking cries about it. He reads the letters, again, and again, and again, wishing desperately that he still had that first one. At school, he checks his locker obsessively, compulsively, hoping there’s another note in his locker—there never is.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Gareth asks, an elbow into Eddie’s side.

“Ow, ribs!” Eddie cries, curling away from him and into Doug at their usual lunch table.

“Sorry!” Gareth replies, leaning away from him and raising his hands up like that’ll somehow prove he’s harmless.

Jeff snorts around his sandwich, “gotta be careful, Gare-bear. He’s precious cargo now.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes as the rest of Hellfire laugh around him.

“No, but seriously, dude,” Gareth asks, this time without the thrown elbow. “What’s up with you?”

Eddie looks across the cafeteria at Steve and Chrissy’s usual spots, still empty the way they have been for weeks. He worries, sometimes, that they’re not eating, and it’s his fault.

Hopefully, they’re just packing lunches from home and eating somewhere else (he’s been too afraid to check).

“Can’t tell you buddy,” Eddie replies, still looking at the empty spot like that’ll somehow make the duo appear. “I promised.”

Gareth, clearly having followed his line of sight, leans closer and asks in an unsubtle whisper, “but it’s about you know what?”

Doug sits on, oblivious, but Jeff snorts again and asks, “okay, you didn’t tell me jack shit, but you told the freshman?”

“Sophomore, jackass!” Gareth cries, before seeming to realize the implications of Jeff’s sentence. “You told Jeff?”

“I knew before you did,” Jeff says smugly, and Eddie’s starting to get pissed off about that again.

“How!”

“Jeff, dearest?” Eddie grits out. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

That shuts the table up catastrophically. But in the end, Jeff sighs and says, “I’m coming over after school,” and the rest of lunch is spent fielding Gareth’s indignant questions.

True to his word, Jeff climbs into Eddie’s passenger seat at the end of the day. Eddie doesn’t take them to the trailer, he just drives around, taking back roads round and round, restlessness making his fingers twitch in the gear shift.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the silence, in the end. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, making Eddie flinch at the sudden noise. “Steve just seemed so scared, and Chrissy was crying so—”

“He was scared?” Eddie interrupts, stuck on the thought. He’d known that, before, but now that Eddie’s afraid, too, it hits like a punch to the chest.

“Of course he was,” Eddie replies to his own question. Suddenly unable to focus, Eddie pulls over to the side of the road. “I’m scared, too.”

Jeff sucks in a breath; Eddie doesn’t look away from his own knees.

“Yeah?”

Eddie bites his lip, knowing that Jeff will be able to read between the lines. “Yeah.” His eyes are watering, and Eddie swipes at them, embarrassed. “And I know we’re supposed to be talking about us, but I just—”

“No, hey,” Jeff replies. Eddie hears the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, and the rustle of him shifting in his seat, and suddenly, Jeff’s hand is clasping Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him around just a little. “You’re my best friend—we’re fine, dude.”

Eddie swipes at his eyes again, “I think I want to ask him out, but what if I’m wrong?” Eddie asks, tracking Jeff’s expression out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to hurt him again.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, voice deadpan. “You find out he likes you and suddenly he’s not just a jock anymore?”

Eddie looks down at his own knees, bracing for a hit he knows will never come. But, Eddie’s always been good at hurting himself, so he thinks about that yellow nail polish again, the enraptured look in Steve’s eyes during every D&D session, the way he’d glued himself to Robin Buckley, band nerd supreme’s side in recent weeks. The way he’d look at Eddie like he wasn’t the king of the freaks, like he was worth something.

“He was never just a jock,” Eddie murmurs. “I just never let myself think about it.”

Jeff mmmhmms him and Eddie knows him well enough to hear the doubt beneath the agreement.

“I was afraid, okay?” Eddie laments, scrunching his eyes closed tight until that makes his bruised eye ache too much. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At that, Jeff scoffs, and before Eddie can start up another tirade, he replies, “right, the black guy dating a white girl in Po-dunk, Indiana has no idea how scary it can be to make a move on the person you like.”

Okay, fair.

“You know what could happen if the wrong person finds out?” Jeff continues. “I’ll be lucky if they let me get out of town alive.”

“Okay, okay! I get it, sorry!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. And Jeff, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his discomfort. “How’s that going anyway?”

“With Chrissy?” Jeff asks, continuing when Eddie nods. “She’s great, man. I really, really like her.”

He’s smiling all goofy and in love. Eddie waits for the jealousy to hit; it never comes. Even as he’d flirted with her, there’d always been a disconnect for him between the letters and the girl. He knows why, now.

“I’m happy for you.”

Jeff aims that same goofy smile at him and punches his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie wants to feel that way about someone. He wants to think of them and smile like he just can’t help himself. And with Steve Harrington of all people, maybe he can.

“If I ask Steve out, do you think he’ll still say yes?”

“Oh, for sure,” Jeff replies without hesitation before he turns to Eddie and eyes him up and down. “But are you sure you want to?”

Eddie bites back the defensive retort rising on his tongue, and grits out, “what do you mean?”

Jeff sighs and leans back in his chair. Eddie waits, three seconds from snapping as he stews in Jeff’s silence, hands clenched so hard against the steering wheel that it feels like one of his nails might pop clean off. 

“Jeff–”

“No one’s ever liked you before!” Jeff cries, and it hits Eddie like a punch to the sternum. “And maybe it’s not fair of me to ask but, are you sure you even really like him?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his mind a record skipping against a bent needle. “What do you–”

“Eddie, man,” Jeff sighs, swiveling his head to finally look Eddie directly in the eyes. “Do you like Steve Harrington, or do you just like that he likes you?”

He drops the wheel, hands almost numb as he shakes them out, no longer able to meet Jeff’s eye. 

How would anyone ever know that for sure? How can he know the origin of a feeling when it’s been there, simmering in the background of his brain, just waiting for him to wake up? How can he separate the feeling for a person and the person’s feeling for them?

That’s like asking him to unbraid his hair, let it fall back together, and still be able to tell which strands made up each component of the braid–it can’t be done.

But, “Gareth said I was obsessed with him,” Eddie replies, barely above a whisper. “Like, before I knew he wrote the letters?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, but it’s just like Steve said–it sounds different when he doesn’t think it’s funny. “And, he was right, you know? I was flirting with Chrissy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Eddie runs a shaking hand through his hair and buries his face into his hands with a shudder. “He’s just–he’s Steve Harrington, right? Everyone knows everything about him, but then he just changes the script!” Eddie’s smiling now, manic, animated. “And I wanted to know everything.”

Eddie drops his hands to look over at Jeff, meeting his eyes once more. Jeff looks patient, ready, hopeful in a way he hadn’t before, so Eddie keeps talking.

“Like, Chrissy was flirting with you and he didn’t even seem to care, and the yellow nail polish, and he came to Hellfire, Jeff. Steve Harrington came and watched us play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I know,” Jeff replies, grinning now, pearly whites all on full display. 

“And when he came to band practice, he was just like, watching me, and I sort of wanted to die, but in a good way, you know?”

Jeff decidedly does not look like he knows, but he’s still grinning across at Eddie like he’s proud of him. Eddie’s kind of proud, too, that he’s managing to say all of this aloud. It feels somehow new and a long time coming at the same time. 

“Okay, you can ask him out,” Jeff says, turning forward in his seat and buckling his seatbelt once more. 

Eddie laughs. “Oh, because I needed your blessing?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replies, grinning as he turns back to Eddie, looking him up and down like he’s a slab of meat Jeff’s checking for its quality. “Maybe wait until you’re healed up, though. You look like one of those cardboard box kittens that I keep seeing on the news.”

“Shut up!” Eddie squawks, but he’s smiling, helplessly, hopefully.

Eddie Munson with a chance at love, who would’ve thought?

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P50 | screw the rebellious teenage phase

TW : violence, suicide scene, and slight gore

Mark was jumping in his seat, and Yuno couldn't stop laughing at Mark's display of unadulterated joy and excitement. It was kind of cute, seeing how happy he was on Yuno's behalf, now that he's officially a music artist now. Geonwoo and Woojin were beaming at the front seats too, glad that Yuno is finally achieving his lifelong dream.

"You've been dreaming about this ever since we were kids, Jae. Oh my god, you're a singer now. A full-fledged singer, with a record deal under one of the biggest labels in our country!" Mark exclaimed, slamming his head back with a big smile on his face.

"Thanks, dude. I owe it to you guys—I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for your work in managing the MNA Week." Yuno laughed, ruffling the younger man's hair.

"My mom said your highschool friends just arrived at the café—everyone is just waiting for us to arrive now." Geonwoo showed the text messages he exchanged with his mom, and Soyeon even sent a picture of Yuta, Doyoung and Jungwoo posing with Yuno's dad under the café lights.

Yuno nodded, feeling good with himself that he opted for an intimate party among close family and friends only. Well, family with the exception of you. Yuno wasn't that surprised when Mark told him that you declined the invitation, because you already made plans with Junyoung for tonight, but the disappointment was still there, palpable and aching.

He rested his head against the car window, looking at the city lights shining in the nighttime. He wondered if you and Junyoung were among the crowd of people moving along on the sidewalk, and he wondered if you were truly happy after pushing everyone else away. He hoped you were—no matter where you were and who you were with—but he can't help and feel bitter that him, Mark, Geonwoo and Woojin weren't part of your current happy life now.

If you were so happy with Junyoung, then so be it.

"We're here!" Woojin exclaimed, and Mark practically hopped out of the car.

Jaehyun's smile returned.

At least he could be happy with the people you had left behind.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sure, you had left your phone and wallet at the apartment, but he didn't specify that you should have left all of your phones—so you had tucked Yuno's old phone under your bra on your back, confident that Yoonsu wouldn't notice it since you were also wearing a thick leather blazer that you had stolen from Yuno's wardrobe (so you at least had another thing of him with you while living with Yoonsu).

You made sure to block Detective Do's number and turned the phone off beforehand, knowing Detective Do was driving himself crazy in trying to reach you—but you promised you would turn it on once you had the chance, so they could track down your location. It was the least you could for Detective Do's sake, to ease his job. For now, however, you wanted the detectives to be several steps behind before you could get Yoonsu to tell where Junyoung was buried.

"This is our stop." Yoonsu muttered stiffly. The stop was in downtown Seoul, streets littered with old and underdeveloped buildings.

He stood up and roughly pulled on your arm, it even caught the attention of the other passengers. You smiled stiffly at them while Yoonsu practically dragged you out of the bus, his face all stoic and icy. It was uncharacteristic of him. Yoonsu would always taunt you with an ugly smile on his face, always taking the opportunity to insult you and rub salt into your wounds—but he had been quiet for the whole bus ride.

And you've always been aware just how angry he was with you, but he's never displayed his anger in such a raw manner before. You gulped, now fully convinced he did notice that the blackmail file he had over you was wiped out of his phone. That's why he was extra pissed.

He dragged you all the way to the destination, walking ahead with his hand gripping on your arm as you walked behind him. The more you walked, the more you understood that he was definitely dragging you to that one abandoned building at the very end of the street.

However, because he was so busy 'guiding' you to your intended destination, and as you got near the abandoned building, you took the opportunity to reach behind you from under your shirt and turned on the phone, pulling it out of your bra and discreetly throwing it into the unattended bushes so the impact wouldn't make a sound.

Yoonsu didn't notice a thing.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Kyungsoo, we got something!" Chanyeol—who works for Gangnam PD's Cyber Crimes Unit—yelled through the phone.

He cringed at the oaf's deep ass voice yelling into his ear, but decided to ignore it, because he was busy trying to find you. Just why did you have to follow Yoonsu? That was your chance to escape—you could've finally been free of him!

No, you just had to go off on your own again—still stuck in your rebellious teenage phase. Screw the rebellious teenage phase, Kyungsoo mentally cursed.

"We suddenly got a signal from her alternate phone—it's pinging in downtown Seoul, near an abandoned factory. It was shut down years ago because it got busted as a drug production base. I'm confident this is where Yoonsu took her." Chanyeol explained carefully and efficiently, fingers slamming on the keycaps of his keyboard before continuing, "It's 25 minutes away by car from where you are right now—but if you floor the pedal and take some totally illegal shortcuts—"

"15 minutes?" Kyungsoo spoke hopefully, already getting inside the car with Taeyong driving.

"10 minutes."

"Send me the location."

Taeyong took out the revolving red light and stamped it on the roof of the car before flooring the gas pedal. Now that they also got to ignore red lights and make other cars on the road get out of their way, they can reach you sooner than 10 minutes.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It took forever to reach the underground level of this building, and it didn't help that the limited light almost had you tumbling down the stairs if it weren't for Yoonsu guiding you so confidently through the dark.

Once you felt that your feet were on solid floor, Yoonsu swung at you, managing to land a punch hard enough that it had you lying on the floor. You tasted blood, and your right cheek ached like a bitch. The fucker just broke your nose. You groaned at the pain, holding on to your nose as Yoonsu went down to straddle you, pulling on the lapels of your leather blazer.

"How did you do it?" He gritted out.

"Do what?" You bit out, the blood that dripped into your lips sputtered out as you talked.

He gave you a harsh slap on your face, that had your teeth tearing the inside of your cheek. What a mean piece of shit, for slapping you where he had just landed a punch on you. Your right cheek was going to swell up into a puff.

"How did you wipe away the file without me noticing, you slimy bitch."

You spit out the blood and began to laugh, wheezing and cackling like a hyena. Oh, you had the sense that he had decided to kill you tonight. Landing blows on your face without a care of the consequences—he was crashing out, and it was a hilarious sight to behold.

Not as smart as he thought he was, huh?

When you saw his arm rising to land another blow on you, you quickly caught it, twisting it as hard as you could, giving yourself the chance to slip your leg up from under him and kicked him in the stomach to get him off of you. The kick had him wheezing, holding on to his stomach as he lied on his back.

Thank god for the self defense lessons Geonwoo and Woojin had put you through. In fact, you were just thankful for Geonwoo and Woojin in general.

"I stole my brother's old phone and sim card, used it to contact Detective Do. You didn't even notice it—because you're not as smart as you think you are, bastard." Your voice sounded guttural, like an animal growling.

When you went to kick him while he was down, he caught your ankle and pulled on it, causing you to fall on your back, the back of your head making an impact on the floor. That wasn't good. That was going to hinder you. You can already feel your world spinning.

Well, at least you didn't black out—so that counts as something, right?

He stood up and pulled you along as you tried to focus, trying to will away the spontaneous major headache. He punched you in the stomach, and that was a low move on his part—because he had kicked you in the stomach a week ago. It was cheap shit. Him calling you a slimy bitch? He was the slimy one.

But all those years of wasting away, not able to afford the luxurious lifestyle anymore, losing access to top notch personal trainers and private gyms—he's gotten skinny, his combat skills turned rusty. He's gotten significantly weak, that's why cheap shots and blackmail were all that could do now.

When you realised it, you laughed again, even as you held your stomach because laughing was making it hurt, but you didn't give a shit. God, he's gotten so pathetic. It's fucking hilarious.

"You think you're slick? You think you're smart, princess? You knew the blackmail was gone, but you followed me here anyway like some kind of idiot—for what? Have you gotten used to me pulling on you by your leash, bitch?" He was practically frothing at the mouth, spit flying out as he spoke to you, pulling on your hair so you could face him directly.

"No," You muttered out, gripping on his collar and pushing him into an emergency box containing a fire extinguisher, and the glass shattered when his head made impact with it, "I knew that if I let Detective Do take me away from you, you'd just kill yourself, because you'd realise you've lost everything at that point."

Pulling away from him, you returned the favor and landed a cheap shot on him too—a kick to his groin, hard enough it had him kneeling on the floor at the pain, sputtering out insanely vile curses at you. You stood above him, wiping away the blood that dripped down your chin.

"And I want to know where you buried Junyoung. Since I already told you how I wiped out your blackmail file, it's only fair—" You paused, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction rush through your veins when you actually managed to kick him in the stomach this time as he writhed on the floor, "—you tell me what I want to know now. I played your game, Yoonsu, but I also got to win it too—so give me my prize, you fucker."

Then you gave him another kick, this time harder than before, as it sent him sliding on the tiled floor.

He mumbled out something you can't quite hear.

"What?"

He mumbled again.

You crouched next to his writhing form, pulling his head up by the hairs of his scalp, making him wince. He didn't realise you could be this violent. He wanted to laugh when he realised the psychological torture he put you through was what pushed you to the brink like this.

"Oh, sweetie—I buried him at your highschool, at that abandoned plant nursery your students stopped working on. I gave those poor neglected plants some good fertilizer."

You let go of his head at his answer. Yoonsu wheezed some more, until he suddenly stopped.

"I'll bury you there too. Since you love him so much, I'll let you rot away alongside him."

You instinctively tried to distance yourself from him at his sudden change of air, but he was faster. He sat up, and you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your mid torso.

As you glanced down, you saw that he had stabbed you with a big glass shard of the broken emergency box you shoved him into. You gasped when he pulled it out of you, only for him to stab you again, in a lower spot than the previous stab wound. He watched as you fell on your back, hands frantically trying to cover where he had just stabbed you.

The stairs rumbled, and Yoonsu glanced up to see it was that pesky Detective Do at the top of the stairs along with a man Yoonsu didn't recognize—he deducted it was probably Kyungsoo's newest partner.

When Kyungsoo saw you lying on the ground, blood seeping through your white shirt as you desperately tried to cover your wounds up with your hands, he felt his heart stop. Right next to you, Junyoung—no, Yoonsu—Yoonsu was sitting next to you, holding on a big glass shard that was slathered in blood.

He had stabbed you.

Yoonsu stabbed you.

Then Yoonsu pointed the glass shard to himself.

"NO—"

He stabbed himself in the throat.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong ran to you both. The older detective went to the criminal while the younger one went to you, pressing on your wounds to hamper the blood loss. Kyungsoo observed the glass shard in Yoonsu's throat. Judging from how much blood he was losing in a rapid rate, there was nothing he could do. Yoonsu hit his own artery. Nothing could save him, but you however—

Kyungsoo took out his walkie talkie, requesting an ambulance for you. He let out a loud 'THANK FUCK' when the nearest ambulance was just close by since this part of downtown Seoul needed constant assistance from emergency responders anyway.

He turned to you. Kyungsoo focused on pressing one stab wound while Taeyong on the other, both men didn't care that your blood was staining their clothes.

"Kid, don't go to sleep, okay? Fuck—just—you just—" Kyungsoo can feel his heart dropping as the seconds went by, and suddenly 5 minutes felt like too long for the ambulance to come by.

"...hold on?" You let out weakly.

Kyungsoo nodded, feeling his tears welling up in his eyes. By no means was he still a rookie, to still get so emotionally worked up over a case and its victims—but you were different. You were already one of Yoonsu's victims when you had to work as a stripper for him all those years ago, but here you were again. You had been tormented by Yoonsu again. You got hurt again.

And you were still too young to be going through this.

"Old plant nursery, Cheongdaebi Highschool..." You whispered.

"What about that place?" Kyungsoo spoke through the tears, straining his ears to listen to you better. He recognized Cheongdaebi High—it had been the high school you attended.

"Junyoung's body...please find him this time..." Your hand went to his, weakly gripping on his wrist, as Kyungsoo whispered out his promise to you to uncover Junyoung's body, his tears landing on your body.

Then your hand also went to Taeyong's.

"Remember the note I gave you, Detective Lee..." You turned your head to look at Taeyong next.

"T-The note?" Taeyong choked out, momentarily confused, then finally remembered that day in the café when you suddenly popped up, "Yes! The note! I'll let them know, Y/N. I promise I will."

You smiled, the corner of your lips barely moving, and your eyes began to flutter open and shut rapidly, making the two men panic.

"Fuck—Y/N! Kid! DON'T—"

"Detective Do, we've arrived at the abandoned factory! Where are you and the victim?" A voice from Kyungsoo's walkie talkie cut through his yelling.

Taeyong sprinted to the stairs, yelling from the top of his lungs to grab the paramedics' attention and letting them know they needed to bring the stretcher down with them.

When you were getting wheeled into the bus, Taeyong urged Kyungsoo to accompany you to the hospital, as they watched the paramedic zip up the body bag over Yoonsu's body. The younger detective could see Kyungsoo had an emotional tie to you, so it should ease his mind for a bit if he got to ride with you in the ambulance.

"What about you?" Kyungsoo asked hurriedly.

Taeyong took out a piece of folded up paper from his jacket's inner pocket.

"I need to inform her family."

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : WARRRR ISSSS OVERRRRRR 😫 YOONSU'S FUCKING DEAD BITCHES

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [CLOSED]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @neozon3nha @herebyaccident0 @injunnie-lemon @mystverse @dearmonamour @v-6893 @sehunniepot @bee-the-loser @gomdoleemyson @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @docilismo @neocrashed @soobinbunnie5 @cigarettesafterjae @dudekiss3r @kittydollzz @urlocalbeaner5 @polarisjisung @conwunder @wonupuppy @jae-n0 @413ktz @kimsaerom @meowtella @aerivrs @swanyvess @morkleesgirl @sthwaaberry @nominzn @grassbutneo @spicyryujin @koizekomi @sunflowerhae @markeroolee

[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?

•

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

Next part -Chapter 10 - So Different xx

[sttrawberries]

‘’ The camera woman zooming in on the bright red Lightning McQueen crocs he was wearing. ‘’ ¿? JSLSJSKSSJ

‘’ not even in private but in an interview with multiple cameras pointed at him’’ :D

‘’ You fought a straight face, holding in laughter and trying to stay as serious as you could, but you were about to break any second.’’ CUTEE

‘’ “You’re the best F1 driver I’ve ever interviewed.”

“I’m the only F1 driver you’ve ever interviewed.” KAJSAJSJSJAJ

‘’ finalizing the last public appearance the two of you would have next to each other. A bittersweet ending.’’ oh :(

‘’ But you always had the Jason laying with you on your couch. Feeding each other dinners, taking motorcycle rides late in the night. ‘’ I would even accept a whole book about them just full of moments like this

“After all, you gifted me something so…special.” (?

‘’It’s almost like you want to see me.” SHHH

“I’ll come back when I win, it’ll be our little secret.” AAAAAAAAAAA

‘’ the cameras focused in on his face and your reactions.’’ caught in hd jsjsjsj

‘’ He was his playful self, the signature half smirk trying to get you to blush, but his eyes were soft when he glanced over to you.’’ I want to keep this little moment in a place where I can rewatch it every time I want

‘’ you leaned toward Jason, pausing to eye his figure up and down, gleefully watching him pay attention to your every word. Your smile getting wider at how easily he was wrapped around your finger.’’ aaaaAAAAAA

THESE TWO FLIRTING AND I FEEL LIKE I'M THIRD WHEELING

‘’ Jason lit the hallway to opportunities for you.’’ Aw :,)

‘’ Happy, but bittersweet.

You reminded yourself that Jason’s off-season was ending.’’ noooo :(

‘’ You let Jason fake his ignorance through certain tasks, giving him any reason to get you close to him.’’ kssksksj

‘’ You would have to watch him race lap after lap on live television like the rest of the world.  He was leaving soon, you knew he would be busy, it was inevitable, but you wanted as much time before he left.’’ I’m happy he’s going to race again but also I’m going to cry

To reply to your note in the beginning about being good at writing angst, I can tell now, I can feel it sksjsksk

‘’ Jason unconsciously acknowledged, resting his hand over yours around his stomach. Rubbing the fabric of his gloves onto yours.’’ MY HEART

‘’ It was green, but you stayed there, no other traffic surrounding you.

Just you and Jason.’’ this whole scene was so pretty

‘’ Maybe you could wear Jason’s clothes after a nice warm shower.’’ hehehe :D

Why did I think they were going to find something they won’t like once they get to his place, I hate it

‘’ You suddenly remembered the last time you and Jason were enclosed in a garage, close to each other, messy from a hard day of distributing winter jackets and food to those who stopped by’’ HEHEHE :D

“There’s no volunteers to interrupt us now.” I’m going to faint

‘’ The feeling of your lips, your sides, his body between your legs?’’ I fainted I swear

‘’ You could only laugh as Jason desperately tried to get the shirt through your arms.’’ GIGGLING IN THIS VERY MOMENT, I LOVE THEM

“I want to turn you into a mess.” Please take everything

‘’ After a shared warm shower, Jason gave you a nice pair of his dry clothes.’’ Mission accomplished

‘’ You walked around his place, relaxed after Jason’s…expertise.’’ KSJSKASJSJSJ

“I’m happy you’re here.” MY HEART

‘’ Jason chuckled, hugging you from behind smelling like the same soap in your hair, his face nuzzling into your neck. (…) When you walked around, Jason following you like a duckling’’ he’s so cute aaaaa

‘’You more than liked it. It smelt like Jason. A smell you’ll never grow tired of.’’ How can I get inside this fic please I need answers

‘’ Matching plushies, a book you picked randomly, a bookmark you gifted him, and a tiny paper frog you made while waiting for your table before dinner.’’ MY CRYINGGGG

‘’ He was more clingy than usual tonight.’’ I can’t help but worry about what’s about to come when I should be enjoying this

“When I asked around about it, they said Wayne Enterprises had it delivered.” Ugh no

‘’ Taking over the hard work he had volunteered for months.

Another sanctuary was being taken away from Jason’s grasp.’’ Nooo:(

‘’ Shared kisses, lost in each other’s presence, too occupied to notice the multiple buzzing sounds from Jason’s phone.’’ OH NONONO

‘’ It was a photo of his Lightning McQueen crocs on the plane. A big contrast to the fancy carpeting, expensive seats, and an up-to-date screen playing the children’s movie.’’ SJSJJS I love him

I’m so happy he’s back racing

‘’ The difference in your lifestyles hitting you. He was a rich racer, traveling the world in one of the most expensive suits in modern racing. (…) You felt…small. (…) How far was this relationship going? (…) Should you follow him? (…) What about your job?’’ honey don’t go that way :(

‘’ (Handsome) Mr. Todd: fast is the only way I go. you, especially, should know that ;)’’ this man I swear

‘’ Jason was busy going to opening days, press conferences, driving on the racetrack. His replies were becoming sparse.’’ Stop aaaaa

‘’ “I just saw— paper frogs that—vendor—the street and—grab some.” Jason’s voice went in and out of your mind, fighting the urge to sleep.’’ I’m happy he found some free time to call

‘’ Apparently, it had been a video call, but you hadn’t realized after you woke up this morning.

Jason not only heard you embarrass yourself, but he saw it too.’’ noooo JSJSSJSJ

‘’Putting on the shirt that smelled like Jason’’ <3

Racing Hearts Pt. 4

f1!driver!jason x reporter!reader

A/N: hello my gremlins <3 i wanted to share with u guys that i successfully moved YAY so that explains the update being slightly behind and the less responses i’ve given to comments (i read them all i swear <3) BUT HERE IT IS \(^o^)/ i took way too long to edit and rewrite the way i believe the story should go, im having so much fun with this series and i want to thank all of u who are supporting it from the beginning or saw the updates as they came. ENJOY the fourth chapter of the Racing Hearts series (ALSO THERE’S 300 FOLLOWERS WOW 🥹 THANK U TO ALL THE PEOPLE THAT LIKE MY PAGE AND CONTINUE TO SUPPORT MY CRAZY SAD WRITING AND MY DRAWINGS i love reading your funny comments, unhinged reblogs, and talking about your favorite parts of the story, it really gave me the push to write and contribute to the jason todd community) and i just wanted to remind yall…i haven’t forgotten about that hurt/comfort tag :)

Check out the Racing Hearts masterlist! It shows all the updated chapters and upcoming ones <3

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers, spicy if u squint, we’re hitting halfway thru the story so let me introduce what i do best…angst HAHAHA

Word Count: 4.1k

“In all of my career, I have to say that I never thought I would be standing here wearing…these.” Jason looked down to his feet.

The camera focused on the two of you standing next to one another, the lens following Jason’s stare toward the ground. The camera woman zooming in on the bright red Lightning McQueen crocs he was wearing.

You sheepishly admired the shoes, proudly smiling back up to Jason. Bewilderment plastered on his face as he couldn’t believe you actually gifted him Lightning McQueen merch, not even in private but in an interview with multiple cameras pointed at him.

What a predicament he was in. He was definitely not offended when you told him how similar the red car and he were.

“It’s a small thanks from the company for completing your third interview with us.” You smiled brightly at Jason. “Also consider it as a way for us to say ‘good luck’ for your upcoming season.”

Jason couldn’t believe it as he laughed. No matter how much time he spent with you, you always surprised him in the best ways.

“Y’know, I thought the Cars jokes were going to fade out, but you’re a bad influence on my fans.” Jason lightheartedly teased you, stomping his foot enough to let the crocs light up.

You fought a straight face, holding in laughter and trying to stay as serious as you could, but you were about to break any second. You bit the inside of your cheeks to prevent yourself from smiling, internally promising yourself that you would make sure to get a picture of him later.

You already had his new contact picture picked out.

“I couldn’t think of any other way of showing you my support.” You nodded your head proudly.

“Really? Nothing else?” Jason’s eyebrow rose, his tone sarcastic.

“You’re the best F1 driver I’ve ever interviewed.” You smirked, watching the shoes sparkle.

“I’m the only F1 driver you’ve ever interviewed.” Jason looked at you in disbelief.

“Anyway! We’re closing this as the last part of our series, I’m glad you were able to be a guest before you get busy putting on the RedBull uniform again, I know your fans will really enjoy that—” You wrapped up the finale, finalizing the last public appearance the two of you would have next to each other. A bittersweet ending.

But you always had the Jason laying with you on your couch. Feeding each other dinners, taking motorcycle rides late in the night.

“This can’t be the last time I see you. You’re my favorite interviewer.” Jason lulled his voice, rephrasing your earlier comment back at you. “After all, you gifted me something so…special.”

You paused, shocked at Jason’s forwardness with you, the timber of his voice adding an underlying flirty tone to him.

You’ve never talked to him about the public appearance about the two of you. Could you go public?

It’s for the camera. You silently told yourself.

“You have to win for me to see you again.” You smirked, quickly playing along with his attempt to fluster you.

“That’s too easy, you could try to make this a little harder for me.” Jason chuckled lowly. “It’s almost like you want to see me.”

Oh my.

“So much talk for someone who hasn’t started his comeback season.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “You also didn’t start your last season smoothly, so don’t talk so confidently.”

“But who sat at my last press conference celebrating my win? I don’t end things so easily.” Jason tilted his head as he looked down at you, tension increasing. “I’ll come back when I win, it’ll be our little secret.”

Jason winked at you, the cameras focused in on his face and your reactions.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher between the RedBull Jason on camera and your Jason.

He was his playful self, the signature half smirk trying to get you to blush, but his eyes were soft when he glanced over to you.

You calmly gave in, maybe it was for the camera or maybe it was for you.

“Aw, that’s so sweet, but I don’t think I could keep that a secret.” Your polite smile opposing Jason’s mischievous one. “I don’t think you realize but,” you leaned toward Jason, pausing to eye his figure up and down, gleefully watching him pay attention to your every word. Your smile getting wider at how easily he was wrapped around your finger. “I’m a reporter, I can’t keep that beautiful face to myself.”

“But I’m really good at keeping them.” Jason stepped closer, eyes never leaving yours.

His eyes beamed a playful hue to them.

You cleared your throat, looking at the camera woman who also stared in awe.

Crap, the office was going to get suspicious.

“You should focus on winning first before you make any promises.” You coughed, diffusing the atmosphere Jason created as the film crew watched. “Then call my business number and you don’t have to keep any secrets.”

Once the camera stopped rolling, you resumed your professionalism. Saying goodbyes and getting final pictures for the website and both social medias.

All the previous interviews went well. The fans saw Jason’s personality in action, gaining more attention and love for the racer. Jason’s management team was satisfied with you and the attraction he was gaining before the season started.

It gave him the right press he needed to put him in the spotlight.

After Jason left with his management team, you finalized the video upload that his company agreed to. Your draft for a new article about Jason to be edited and reviewed for the upcoming week. It was business as usual.

Getting work done during the day, then meeting Jason for the evening.

When you got back to your desk, you organized yourself to overlook the release date for the final interview and reviewed for the next big project to tackle now that your work with Jason was finished. Multiple meetings with project managers and your team.

Work was picking up for you, managing larger projects, interacting with larger faces.

Jason lit the hallway to opportunities for you.

Your phone lit up next to your laptop, distracting you from one screen to another.

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: pick you up at 6?

You smiled to yourself. Happy, but bittersweet.

You reminded yourself that Jason’s off-season was ending. You wished time could slow down.

—— “Gosh, you’re so clumsy.” You adjusted Jason’s helmet. All the time spent with him reflected in your familiarity with the motorcycle helmet.

“Only for you.” Jason stood there, leaning down to let you reach around his head. Watching you worry about the two of you.

Jason had kept his promise to pick you up.

Most of the time he waited on you to get back from work. Sometimes pushing the boundaries and secretly meeting you for a quick lunch. Meeting him far from where your coworkers frequented.

Your first encounters were hidden behind the idea of work, finding answers to questions for interviews, or suggesting new places to eat.

It was like you couldn’t be apart from one another.

Oh, how you can change a man.

You let Jason fake his ignorance through certain tasks, giving him any reason to get you close to him.

But you gave into his every attempt. Not fighting against his clinginess.

Your roles would switch soon, he wouldn’t wait for you after tiring days of work. You would have to watch him race lap after lap on live television like the rest of the world.

He was leaving soon, you knew he would be busy, it was inevitable, but you wanted as much time before he left.

You sat behind Jason, his body warming the front of you as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Holding onto him close, wearing the helmet he got you, feeling his solid stomach shift the motorcycle as you rode around the city. You were getting used to your new lifestyle, despite the hidden secrets you shared.

He couldn’t announce a relationship after you were waiting for the last installment of your interviews.

The timing wasn’t right and the meetings this would cause for you and Jason were going to give you a headache.

You heard the motorcycle engine interrupt your thoughts.

Jason slowing at a red light. He stopped, placing his feet on the ground to stabilize the two of you while you waited. The red glow reflected onto Jason sitting in front of you.

The streets were almost empty. Gotham barely waking to the darkness, a city that never sleeps.

“Jay.” You hesitated behind him.

“Hm?” Jason unconsciously acknowledged, resting his hand over yours around his stomach. Rubbing the fabric of his gloves onto yours.

“I want to stay with you longer.” You calmed your voice, careful in verbalizing your feelings.

“You want to drive around more? I think we can drive by—“ Jason continued to rub your wrists. Cars passing in front of him, the opposing traffic keeping you still.

“No, I don’t want to leave you tonight.”

Jason paused, his hand resting on yours, no longer moving. If the cars weren’t in front of you, crossing the intersection, you would have thought time was frozen.

Jason tilted his helmet back, to get a look at you.

You don’t know what he was looking for, your face covered by a protective helmet like his was, but he found what he needed when the light turned green.

It was green, but you stayed there, no other traffic surrounding you.

Just you and Jason.

“Want to come to my place?” Jason kept his black visor on you. “I have a killer TV to watch Cars on.”

You chuckled. Squeezing his waist a little more.

“Better have a good speaker for playing Life is a Highway.”

Jason smirked, hidden from your eyes as he watched you lean back into his warmth.

The humid air covering the two of you into summer clothing. Thinner fabrics and showing more skin.

Jason wore a simple fitted thin long-sleeve, matching the look of his helmet and gloves. It made a great view of his broad back.

A quiet exhale as he looked forward again, revving his engine to life to make a quick turn, opposite of your home.

You were racing the rain as Jason was taking you back, but after you spoke the magic words, how could he send you back home?

The dark summer rain clouds were no longer behind you, the two of you heading straight for them as you watch Jason take you down new streets, an unfamiliar path to Jason’s place.

“I don’t think you’ll make it to the living room before then.” Jason quietly spoke to the light drizzle hitting your bodies

“What did you say?” You couldn’t hear above the engine.

And he was right.

After you were soaked to the bone, fabric sticking to your form, water droplets falling down your skin. A glossy sheen from the harsh rain falling all around you.

Jason had pulled into his garage.

He was in the same state, wet clothes stuck to his skin. The water from you and the motorcycle dripping onto the concrete floor.

You pulled your helmet off, the only dry place.

Once Jason parked the bike, he took off his helmet, placing it on the nearest work table. Your body shivered as you threw your leg over to maneuver yourself off.

You looked down at your state, smiling in disbelief at being caught in the rain.

Maybe you could wear Jason’s clothes after a nice warm shower. You internally thought to yourself. Excited to enter Jason’s place. A new location unlocked.

When you put your helmet next to Jason’s, you could finally take in all of him.

Black shirt tight from the weight of the water, his hands littered with scars, free from the gloves. His hair dry, but messy.

All his muscles more prominent.

You stood in awe, your chest rising from the breaths you took. Humid air invading the inside of the garage, elevated from warm summer nights.

The sight of Jason reminded you of the professional pictures taken of him, leaving his Formula 1 car after a race. He was sweaty, running his hands through his hair with a towel in hand.

After all the time you spent together, it was your favorite photo of him. You secretly saved it because there was something about the look on his face, happy to win, alive on the track.

How attractive he looked was a definite bonus in your opinion.

Jason glanced over to you, finally realizing the state the two of you were in. He slowly looked you up and down, lost in the same visual you were in awe of once you saw him.

You suddenly remembered the last time you and Jason were enclosed in a garage, close to each other, messy from a hard day of distributing winter jackets and food to those who stopped by.

A slight warmth increasing on your face.

Jason stepped closer to you, hands grabbing for your waist to pull you in. His hands reaching under your chin to stretch your neck to adjust to his height.

Breaths mixing as your lips touched only from the movement of your lips unconsciously opening, ready to kiss him.

He waited.

Letting the pressure build as he spoke.

“There’s no volunteers to interrupt us now.” Jason lifted you, letting you sit on the surface of his work table. His arm swooping everything off as he cleared enough room for you.

You could hear objects fall, but you couldn’t care less as Jason stepped between your legs. Quickly, but carefully rubbing at your legs with his palms, his hands getting closer to the blurs of where your thighs met your waist.

Everywhere felt great that you didn’t know where to focus.

The feeling of your lips, your sides, his body between your legs?

You could only huff between the intensity he was igniting in you.

“Jay—inside—it’s cold.”

Despite your words, you didn’t bother to move. You kept touching, feeling everything before Jason lifted you again, the placement of his hands as he carried you, lifting the edges of your shirt.

The feeling of a mattress beneath you as you uncomfortably tried to peel the clothing off your body.

Jason chuckled at your frustration. You couldn’t bother to give him a snide remark as he also struggled to get your soaked clothes off.

When lifting the shirt didn’t work, you tried rolling the fabric, but it only bunched just below your sleeves.

You could only laugh as Jason desperately tried to get the shirt through your arms. Tangled in the mess you both created that you were left with a heavy shirt stuck around your biceps.

“Why is there always something stopping me from seeing all of you?” Jason laughed as he kneeled above you, his shirt completely off at some point along the way to his room.

“I don’t think a pair of wet clothes are going to stop you now.” You smiled at him, glancing up at his figure through the darkness. Only the city lights creeping through the blinds, illuminating his skin.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Jason yanked your entire shirt off your arms.

You sucked in a breath at his desperation, memorizing the look of his face as he leaned down closer.

“I want to turn you into a mess.” He whispered into your mouth, kissing down your body.

Overwhelming gasps and breaths left your mouth the more he touched your skin.

“I want to touch you too.” You exhaled, trying to coherently express yourself.

“Next time, sweetheart. I want to focus on you. Everything I want is you.” Jason moved your hair out of your face, stuck from the sweat covering your skin.

The night filled with you repeating Jason’s name, no distractions keeping that man off of you.

After a shared warm shower, Jason gave you a nice pair of his dry clothes. You walked around his place, relaxed after Jason’s…expertise.

What you weren’t prepared for was just how normal his apartment looked. It felt like yours, but bigger, a little more luxurious like it was bought with the intention of having better quality to last longer.

You hoped he had no plans of moving anytime soon.

You stood in the kitchen in awe.

“You have a kitchen island.” You whistled in excitement. “Formula 1 money is good, huh? Maybe I need to pick up a Redbull uniform.”

Jason chuckled, hugging you from behind smelling like the same soap in your hair, his face nuzzling into your neck. You continued to speak.

“No, I can’t steal your fame.” You whispered to yourself. Jason feeling the vibration of your voice the longer he leaned into your neck.

“I’m happy you’re here.” Jason mumbled into you, ignoring everything you said.

“Me too, I’ve been curious where you live.”

“I invited you before, but I guess we’ve always gone to your place.” Jason smiled into your skin. “What do you think?”

“Its very…Jason. I like it.” You glanced around.

You more than liked it. It smelt like Jason. A smell you’ll never grow tired of.

His apartment was slightly bare, the space a little too large for the one man, but that was charming too. It felt like you were able to occupy that small empty space in his life.

When you walked around, Jason following you like a duckling, you noticed the small knick-knacks you bought with him on your dates.

Matching plushies, a book you picked randomly, a bookmark you gifted him, and a tiny paper frog you made while waiting for your table before dinner.

You felt cherished, looking at the physical representations of your memories together.

He grabbed you again, wanting the closeness. You fell back into him, the small paper frog in your hand, made from old receipt paper.

Jason resumed his prior back hug, absorbing your warmth.

He was more clingy than usual tonight.

“How was your trip to the charity today? I forgot to ask you about it at dinner, it must be hard to take a break from them to race again.” You leaned into him more.

Jason buried himself further. Not a great hiding spot since he was larger, but it was the thought that counted.

“I would love to hear about it.” You put the frog back on the shelf, letting it watch the two of you.

“It was good, I got to do one final check to make sure everything would be good when I’m gone. But…” Jason hesitated, squeezing you a little tighter.

You waited, rubbing circles on his forearm.

“I had noticed a lot of stuff come in, it’s a good thing, but it wasn’t like our usual haul. I didn’t recognize it as the stuff I brought over either.” Jason breathed, agitation filling his voice. “When I asked around about it, they said Wayne Enterprises had it delivered.”

Jason went silent. He was tense.

“I always tell that old man to fuck off. He never listens.” Jason sighed.

The last thing Jason wanted was another check from Bruce. Taking over the hard work he had volunteered for months.

Another sanctuary was being taken away from Jason’s grasp.

“I can’t stand it.” Jason whispered. His eyebrows taut.

You maneuvered your head back to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, I know that was the last thing you wanted to happen.” You soothed.

Jason leaned in for more kisses.

“Don’t worry, I’m feeling better already.” He exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. Jason smiled into your skin, his voice returning to normal. “But looking at those damn crocs every morning makes me mad.”

You laughed as he grew bolder, pushing the topic aside as you leaned to the floor buried from Jason’s affection surge.

If he was deflecting, distracting himself from his hurt then you could let him kiss you a couple times to distract himself.

Shared kisses, lost in each other’s presence, too occupied to notice the multiple buzzing sounds from Jason’s phone.

——

Once the public release of the third and final interview was released to your company’s website, the usual flood of comments embraced the look at the two of you.

You lost yourself in the positive comments, ignoring the negative ones, but that was the price of social media. It was the evils of publicity.

You read comment after comment about the excitement to watch the fresh new season. Iconic racers coming back to their playing field, excited to reveal new car designs, getting the opportunity to collaborate with anyone and everyone.

As the time for Qualifying reached you, the temperature fully warmed and Jason wasn’t next to you to enjoy it.

He had conferences, practice drives, and flights to catch. Now that he was past elimination, it was time to test his fastest time.

It wasn’t even the peak of the season, but you were missing him.

You sighed into your phone, a small vibration felt in your palm. A message from Jason appeared.

It was a photo of his Lightning McQueen crocs on the plane. A big contrast to the fancy carpeting, expensive seats, and an up-to-date screen playing the children’s movie.

You smiled to yourself in your desk chair, but a small prick to your heart struck you.

The difference in your lifestyles hitting you. He was a rich racer, traveling the world in one of the most expensive suits in modern racing.

You felt…small.

The two of you hadn’t talked about what would happen once he started racing full-time again.

How far was this relationship going?

Would you follow him to his races around the world? Should you follow him?

Would you officially announce anything?

Was this an off-season romance? Only an off-season romance?

What about your job?

“Hey, we need to be there by one. Should we grab a quick lunch?” Your coworker called out to you, interrupting your pessimistic thoughts to yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. Meet you in the lobby?” You locked your computer, grabbing your key badge, ready to go out of the office.

You quickly typed out a message, taking advantage of Jason still on his phone.

You: Hey slow down try to give the other guys a chance

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: fast is the only way I go. you, especially, should know that ;)

You blushed, quickly putting away your phone to catch up with your team.

——

Jason’s performance during qualifying went as expected. He performed in P1, claiming and boasting as he usually did. His time seemed to be getting faster, raising the competition standards for everyone.

You only shook your head as you looked at the results on your phone, a small smile on your face.

Jason was busy going to opening days, press conferences, driving on the racetrack. His replies were becoming sparse.

You: I knew those crocs were good luck charms

No read receipt. No reply.

You kept yourself busy at work. Falling into a routine.

You checked your phone again during lunch. No messages.

Your apartment felt empty when you came home, no lovable man standing in the kitchen.

Still no reply from Jason. It would’ve made you sad if you weren’t so tired.

Your phone rang as you got ready for bed. Letting your head hit the pillow as you heard Jason’s voice in your ear.

“I just saw— paper frogs that—vendor—the street and—grab some.” Jason’s voice went in and out of your mind, fighting the urge to sleep.

His voice was too soothing.

“That’s nice, Jay.” You slurred.

“Sweetheart? Are you awake—“ His voice started to get farther and farther.

You couldn’t keep your eyes open and your dreams filled with you sitting in the stands, watching Jason race.

Wind hitting your skin, watching the flags fly in the air, engines roaring past you.

He was so far away and kept driving further away from you.

You jerked awake. Looking for your phone in the blankets.

You had fallen asleep while on your first phone call with Jason since he left.

“Shit, I wanted to hear his voice.” You shook the blanket in the air until your phone fell from it.

You looked at your call history. Apparently, it had been a video call, but you hadn’t realized after you woke up this morning.

Jason not only heard you embarrass yourself, but he saw it too. You quickly opened your messaging conversation.

You (Yesterday): I knew those crocs were good luck charms

You (Today): i’m sorry I didn’t know it was a video call

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: don’t worry about it, I got to see u when your phone fell off your face

“Nooo!” You screamed to yourself.

Your face fell in your hands as you read the messages coming in.

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: I got something out of it HAHAHA

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: let’s talk next time

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: I wanna hear your voice

You sighed.

Getting up to start your weekend, putting Jason’s live race on the TV screen.

Putting on the shirt that smelled like Jason.

Tag List: @jaybirdstreet @gallusstuff @meowkn @velvetberries @i0lovepink00 @rayaskoalaland @spidernuggets @janybabyy @deimks @yasmin-oviedo @bigraga-sk @indulgentdaydream @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @idontknowanythingsblog @xakilicious @livvyliv15

[mischiefmaker615]

Intoxicated

Summary: Sex Pollen! (based off my Gif Skit)

Inspiration Song: "Nashe si chadh gyi" by Arijit Singh (song had to be translated) 

Requester: @GloriousLoki666 (wattpad)

Rating: R 

Note: been awhile since i wrote another sex pollen one shot Lol This was my FIRST

Loki held his breath while the tips of his fingers assured the bowl was set down without a sound. His eyes flicked once again towards the door- no sign of Y/N. finally being able to relax, he smiled down at the plate of chocolate chip cookies and knew the only thing left to do now, was wait.

Luckily, Y/N and Loki were the only ones in the tower for the day, so mistakenly pranking anyone but her was nearly impossible. It has been like this for weeks, both bickering and throwing dry comments at each other before the insults slowly evolved to more physical action.

Pranks. Cruel ones at that, and this time it was Loki’s turn for revenge.

Having to buy the cookies from the store- due to the fact that he was still learning how to make things himself- it also assured Y/N that there was nothing tampered with so she’s just have to eat one. Or so she thought.. magic was helpful when it came to avoiding hands on methods so a simple enchantment had been in order.

Simply consuming a single cookie would send her into a sexual overdrive, making her have to pleasure herself for about 24 hours straight to be sated. It had been merely an equal punishment he chose out when she had made many jokes about his sex drive in front of the team, making them think he couldn’t win over a woman and relied upon his hand half the time. Well she’d have to do just that for how she tried to humiliate him..

With a smirk, Loki turned to leave only to find Y/N herself scampering into the kitchen for her usual ‘sweet tooth’ o’clock time ritual, as she called it- basically looking for something sweet in between responsibilities she was stuck with around here.

Casting a glance over at him, Loki busied himself in the fridge, looking as distracted and disinterested as he could while he hoped she would notice the plate on the island counter.

‘’Thor went shopping again?” she asked, glancing at the plate while Loki looked over his shoulder, pretending to notice them himself with a raised brow.

‘’perhaps, or perhaps I made them.’’

‘’you made them?” she asked with a hidden scoff, closing the cabinet to fully turn around and inspect the cookies on the plate.

‘’indeed darling, I’ve been brushing up on my Midgardian skills around here and figured it might be best to offer it as a.. truce.’’ He told her gently, closing the fridge to turn to her, resting his palms upon the counter across from her while the plate sat in between them.

Y/N looked at him again skeptically before she dropped her gaze at the cookies, inspecting it as if it were a bug that shouldn’t be there. While distracted, Loki found his own eyes taking in her attire- she took advantage of the cozy work quarters of the tower and opted to where an oversized hoodie and shorts. Her hair was a bit messy, indicating she had been working for quite a while- laying on her tummy in bed no doubt, as he’s caught her many times. The brief feeling of movement in his groin at the thought had his brow raising and his eyes moving to see if it were possible before her words snapped him out of the impossible.

‘’bullshit.’’

‘’excuse me?” he said almost offended.

‘’I want to call bullshit, you might as well have put laxatives or something in there. unless of course.. you have a bite.’’ She said calmly, looking up at him with a challenged look in which he straightened and took personally.

Pranking was a delicate business and any sere hesitation could give away his position to make it real. As a slight amount of panic set in, he also told himself that with the amount of sex pollen he had put in for her body weight, couldn’t possibly be enough to affect his Asgardian form. So, taking hold of one between his thumb and pointing finger, his eyes made eye contact with her while he raised it to his lips.

His expression was unreadable yet his eyes held the same amount of challenge in her own while he bites down on a decent yet small bite. Not once breaking eye contact, he let a small smirk show while he chewed before he waved a hand at the rest of the plate. ‘’fair, darling?”

Her own lips pulled to a smirk and she shrugged, walking past him while her arm grazed his own briefly while he turned to watch her walk away. ‘’not hungry, maybe later.’’

His eyes glared at her while she walked away, finding his gaze slowly move down to her swaying hips while he tried to focus on hating her. with a tiny sigh, he looked back at the plate to debate on throwing them out before her scent seemed to catch his attention. Turning back around as if to find her coming back, he didn’t find her there. The sound of her door shut down the hall while he was left inhaling deeply with his eyes fluttering closed.

‘gods.. did she always smell like that?’ he thought, his body tensing to feel another twitch come from his cock and he dropped his eyes to it through the pants. Slight panic squeezed his chest while his eyes rounded and rose towards the halls.

‘oh.. Norns..’

~ 3o minutes.. 30 minutes and still no relief. He had been at it none stop and slumped panting against his door while his hand dropped to his side in defeat. How much had he enchanted it with? Surely not a lot.. it should have only been mild with her mortal body in consideration.. he was a god! It should have barely got him aroused!

His eyes closed with furrowed brows while another wave of arousal hit him. his body tensed and he could feel more beads of sweat come to his temples while his shirt stayed unbuttoned with the prayer of perhaps the AC finally turning on. He was practically raw and sore and nothing he had thought of had worked. He even tried several enchantments but the issue at hand made concentrating difficult.

The worse part is, he could still smell her..

He probably could have suffered an hour of this than find himself at her door. It be to humiliating and would only provide her more content to tease him more. Yet 24 hours would nearly kill a person, him anyway for despite her constant teasing involving a lacking partner, his libido was very much high at all times.

It was hard to find ones willing when all the saw was ‘the destroyer of New York’ first.

After the last 30 minutes of debating, he knew this hour had been the worst in his life and it was not going to get any easier the more time passed. In fact, sex pollen normally worsened the more one waited and didn’t leave the victim a pretty sight if they didn’t get relief.

Growling, he finally put himself away and straightened himself out, pausing now and again to regain his body once another wave hit before he could continue. He wasn’t even sure what he was wanting to ask her while he stood at her door and his hand hesitated to knock while his body buzzed. He had been severely aroused by the mere scent of her, she was most likely the one who’d be able to cure him.. theoretically.

With a gentle knock he almost regretted, the door opened to find Y/N with a surprised look and a step back.

‘’..you don’t look well..’’ she told him, quickly giving him a look over.

‘’I need your assistance.’’ He mumbled, looking literally anywhere else but her.

‘’the medicine is behind the mirror in the bathr-‘’

‘’not- like that.. I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that..’’ Loki sighed, keeping his arms crossed while he shifted uncomfortably for more matters than one. By her silence, his eyes dared to look at hers just to find them quickly switching up from where they most likely had been staring at but she regardless stepped aside and let him in.

Stepping inside, he closed his eyes to make explaining a bit easier while she shut the door behind him. even with her behind, it was as if she were right in front with her scent more intoxicating as ever. His lips parted, trying to find words but had to take a moment to regain himself while he turned to look at her with guilt.

‘’..I may have placed a dose of sex pollen into the dessert from earlier in hopes you would consume one as revenge from your sexual remarks the other day. I wasn’t aware a bite would affect me and this.. issue will only subside after at least 24 hours. Nothing I have been doing has been successful at fixing it but the spell indicates that the one whom the victim favors could.. rid of it faster.’’

Loki’s eyes rounded a little, stopping short after hearing himself through his rant. Did he just confess? By her own rounded eyes, it would appear that he did while she stared at him in shock and parted lips. The silence made him shift a little, causing her to indeed switch her eyes down to the evidence he had in his pants and another wave of arousal came over him. taking a step back, he hunched a little while drawing in a sharp breath, looking timidly at her while her eyes seemed to harden and her arms moved to cross over her chest.

‘’after all this time... after all this time of your insistent torment and teasing.. you suddenly come to me for help??’’

His eyes lowered with guilt while his voice began to sound horse with strain, fists clenching at his sides while he made sure to keep looking at her. ‘’..this is important-‘’

‘’then make it important.’’ She snapped, eyes narrowing while she held on to the audacity of him actually trying to sex poison her. ‘’you got yourself into this mess, how exactly are you going to fix it-‘’

‘’I know you’ve endured a lot and that is my fault-‘’ a slight groan left his lips while his eyes closed tight, slowly causing him to sink to his knees in front of her while he sucked in a breath and kept his hands in his lap to at least try to conceal the obvious.

Her eyes seemed to have less hate towards him while they followed him down, clearly seeing him in pain while she hugged her arms and held her breath.

‘’but.. but I'll make it up to you.. all of it just- please.. I need your help..’’ he said with a low voice, exhaustion washing over his body while he shifted on his knees again at the pressure.

The sight of a knee in front of him had his eyes raise to find her kneeling in front of him, eyes looking almost out of pity and hidden amusement- which almost seemed to be just as bad as hate while he held his tongue and watched her. ‘’karma is a bitch, isn't it?’’

His jaw tightened and he knew she was going to take advantage of this- half debating on just taking the left over 24 hours to avoid this humiliation if walking didn’t seem impossible right now. ‘’..it is..’’ he ground out.

‘’and what have we learned?” she asked, almost to innocently while her other knee joined the floor and her hands rested on her thighs to mirror his position.

His eyes seemed to study her, cruelty and all. She was intoxicating, how mischief seemed to mask his own and he almost wanted to laugh at the end of all this on how it backfired on him. despite their sarcasm, he almost found himself looking forward to their bickering and debates, her facial expressions that changed and her hip sways she offered while walking away from her own deliverance. Even now by the mere memories, he had to stop himself from leaning forward right then and there while his nails dug into his palms by her scent.

‘’..a prank will sometimes backfire..’’

‘’what else?” she asked, her voice seeming to drop lower to a whisper while her eyes studied him.

‘’...to never get the pollen involved specifically..’’ he grumbled, knowing she was relishing his state yet she hinted with a promise at the end of all this, so he stayed put in his submissive position.

Y/N nodded by his answer, a slow hand reaching out to be placed against his manhood, making his eyes slowly close with almost a relived breath by her simple action. ‘’and thus, we have a.. big problem..’’

If his eyes hadn’t been closed, he would have seen her shocked gaze upon her discovery of his size. Her eyes dropped down while her hand began to paw at him, making him tense and shiver while he drew in another sharp breath.

‘’yes..’’ he answered, not exactly sure of the question anymore as soon as he felt her hand press against his chest and push him down onto his back. His palms flattened against the soft carpet below him while his eyes fluttered open at the sound of his zipper.

‘’I like you to Loki, and despite our ways and differences.. I’m glad you came to me for help..’’ she whispered, honesty surprising him while he raised his head and propped himself up on his elbows while she worked at freeing his erection.

‘’you do?-‘’ he nearly groaned while she wrapped her hand around him, his eyes falling closed while her eyes took in the mere size of him.

‘’I do.. even if you’re a pain in the ass sometimes..’’ she smiled a little and bit her bottom lip while her eyes dropped to watch what she was doing eagerly.

‘’I could be,’’ he offered with a teasing smirk, having her hold in a small laugh before she began to gently stoke him and immediately shut him up.

He slowly moved back onto the carpet, his fingers hitting the floor at his sides and curling into the fabric while her hand moved smooth and steady around him. ‘’fuck..’’ he moaned out, his voice breathy while he could already feel relief beginning to wash over him.

She couldn’t help but smile while she watched his beautiful face contort and his body squirm now and again. It was almost like a sense of power, being able to make a god crumble by merely her hand and it only urged her to stroke him faster. She could feel her own arousal hint between her legs, causing her thighs to press together while her thumb now and again ran against the tip and spread his pre-cum more onto his cock.

‘’gods Y/N.. you’re.. ‘’ he shuddered and felt his hips buck up into her hand now and again while he couldn’t even finish his sentence. She was amazing, skilled and beautiful in every which way. Even through the trials and turmoil she was still willing to help him. he even began to wonder when her attraction began towards him but he’d have to ask later.

‘’you’re so big..’’ she breathed, her inner thought speaking out loud while she still tried to believe what she was holding. Without missing a beat, she granted her wants and lowered her mouth onto his tip, flicking her tongue against him and earned a colorful curse word from Loki while he moaned his name.

‘’you feel amazing darling..’’ he breathed, a hand slowly moving to rest against her head, allowing her to set the pace but his fingers began to automatically curse into her silky hair.

She let out a hum, sending vibrations through him in which he bucked up again, making her move her other hand to his hip to try to keep him down while the other continued to pump him. now her mouth began to lower, sucking and licking at what she could take in while her hand covered the rest.

Old Norse language seemed to slip from Loki’s mouth, whispers and broken sentences while his brows furrowed and his body tensed. ‘’I’m almost t-there Y/N.. please- fuck..’’ he moaned, tightening his hold on her hair while he restrained himself from pushing her down.

Moving even faster, a moan left her own mouth while she stroked and sucked. There was a lot to work with and her thighs shifted frequently to relieve some of the pressure of her own between them until he felt his hand pushing her more down onto him.

‘’fuck- Y/N!” he moaned a curse, her name like music on his lips while he felt his orgasm crash and his hips bucked up into her on their own accord.

She eagerly drank him, gripping his hips tightly with both hands while she stayed where he had her. her legs shook and her eyes looked up at him as if she were drunk and pleased. Panting, he felt a tired grin tug his lips while he slowly let go of her hair and stroked her head, his hand falling down to caress her cheek before he felt himself soften a bit and she released him from his mouth.

His head laid down with exhaustion, relief enveloping him while he took in a deep breath and his body relaxed. ‘’thank you.. Y/N..’’ he said quietly while he felt her crawl up his body to straddle his mid-section, hands at his chest while she looked down at him with a pleased smile.

‘’were you really not hungry?” he asked with a small grin, hands coming to rest at her hips while she shook her head, remembering the cookies.

‘’I knew there was something up with them as soon as I saw them. The best part about baking, is the fresh smell it leaves and there was nothing to be found in the entire tower. So store buying them was the first hint, and knowing you, there had to be something else.’’

Loki hummed at his mistakes, wanting to kick himself for it if he didn’t feel himself getting hard again with her on top. This time it didn’t hurt and from her rosy cheeks, he knew she had noticed as well.

‘’you weren’t joking about your libido..’’ she teased, biting her bottom lip while she began to tease him with the rock of her hips and his lips tugged into a smirk at what she said next.

‘’I got something you could eat..’’

DM a song and/or Loki Gif for your own Musical Mischief one shot and/or Gif Skit :D

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @slytherinqueen4life @jadekillian

[tisayemate]

Vaporised

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader (callsign Vapour)

Fluff

Summary: Vapour teaches Hangman to put his mouth where his money is.

AN: tomorrow’s my birthday!! (Yup, sharing the same birthday as Scarlett Johansson and Mark Ruffalo 🥹)

Story under the cut:

Hangman was in rare form that morning—if by "rare" you meant absolutely, maddeningly, always insufferable.

The squadron had barely settled into the briefing room when Jake "Hangman" Seresin made it his mission to antagonize everyone in his orbit.

"Rooster, you planning to keep that mustache after I wipe the floor with you today?" he quipped, leaning back in his chair. "Or is it aerodynamic enough to help you fly better?"

Rooster shot him a flat look. "Shouldn’t you be studying the rulebook, Seresin? I hear you keep forgetting what 'teamwork' means."

Jake laughed, loud and carefree. "What can I say? I don’t need teamwork when I’ve got skill. I’m just built different."

"Built irritating," Phoenix muttered under her breath, earning a smirk from Bob.

In the corner of the room, you—call sign Vapour—remained silent, arms crossed, and gaze steady on the whiteboard. You had no intention of getting involved in Jake’s antics. He’d teased you enough in the past, despite the fact you barely spoke to him.

“Awfully quiet over there, Vapour,” Jake called out, turning his attention to you. “What’s the matter? Saving all your words for your post-match excuses?”

You didn’t even glance at him. “I, unlike some, don’t waste words,” came your reply.

That earned a round of "oohs" from the others, and even Hangman seemed momentarily caught off guard before recovering with a grin. “We’ll see if your flying’s as sharp as your tongue.”

The reason you were called Vapour wasn’t a mystery to anyone. During a training exercise, you’d pulled off a miracle landing with barely a drop of fuel left, earning you the respect of the instructors and the envy of a certain cocky aviator. Jake had never stopped trying to one-up you since.

Today’s dogfight simulation would be the perfect battleground.

Up in the air, Hangman’s taunts were relentless.

“Vapour, you sure you’re up there? Haven’t seen you all game,” he teased over the comms. “Or maybe that’s just your style—light and forgettable.”

Phoenix groaned. “Do you ever shut up, Seresin?”

“I’m just providing commentary,” he replied. “Gotta make things interesting while I mop the floor with you.”

You stayed quiet, focusing on your maneuvers. You weren’t interested in banter—you had one goal: take Hangman down.

Jake was good. Annoyingly good. But he was also predictable. He liked flashy moves and big risks, and you had no problem using that against him. You let him chase you for a while, luring him into a false sense of control.

“Gotcha now, Vapour,” he said smugly, locking onto your tail.

“Do you?” you replied, your voice finally cutting through the comms.

With a sharp roll and a sudden cutback, you slipped out of his sights and got behind him instead. Jake’s curses filled the channel as you locked on and fired the simulated kill shot.

“Hangman, you’re tagged,” Maverick announced.

Silence.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jake Seresin had nothing to say.

“Vapour!,” Rooster cheered. “Finally someone shut him up!”

You smirked, leveling your jet and heading back to base. 

Back on the ground, Jake’s usual swagger was noticeably absent as the team debriefed. Rooster, Phoenix, and the others took turns mocking him, clearly reveling in his defeat.

Jake made a beeline for you afterward, his expression unreadable.

“Vapour,” he said, folding his arms. “You got lucky.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Luck? Or maybe you’re just all talk.”

For once, he didn’t have a comeback. He just stood there, staring at you like he was trying to figure you out.

Before he could say anything else, you gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You know Hangman’s actually the perfect name for someone who just got left swinging in the wind.”

And with that, you walked off, leaving him standing there—thoroughly humbled.

[kathlare]

surprise in the spotlight

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie takes the stage at Governor’s Ball, basking in the electric energy of the crowd and her passion for performing. A surprise visit from someone special adds an unexpected warmth to an already unforgettable night, reminding her that success feels sweeter when shared with love.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: fluff, smau

June 10th, 2024 - New York City, NY

The New York City skyline was breathtaking as the sun began to set over Randall’s Island. Amelie stood backstage at Governors Ball, adjusting the small in-ear monitor in her left ear while her stylist gave her outfit one last glance.

The energy backstage was electric, with crew members darting back and forth, performers rehearsing last-minute cues, and the hum of the crowd growing louder with anticipation. Amelie’s heart raced, not from nerves but from adrenaline. This was her element.

She did one final vocal warmup as her band took their places. The setlist had been carefully curated: a mix of songs from emails i can’t send and her newer tracks, Espresso and Please Please Please, which had already taken on a life of their own on TikTok. She smiled at the thought.

—Alright, Amelie,— her manager called out, giving her a thumbs-up. —You’re on in five.—

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, gripping the microphone in her hand.

The crowd roared as Amelie stepped onto the stage, the first notes of Read your Mind ringing out. She scanned the sea of faces, soaking in the energy. People were singing along, their hands in the air, the glow of phones lighting up the twilight. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

By the time she reached the middle of her set, the energy had only grown. She was halfway through Please Please Please when she caught a familiar face in the crowd. Her heart skipped a beat.

There, standing near the barricade with her team, was Lando.

He was wearing a casual black hoodie, the hood pulled up in an attempt to blend in, but she would have recognized that cheeky grin anywhere. His arms were crossed, but when their eyes met, he waved like an excited kid.

Amelie nearly missed a lyric, her mind momentarily distracted by the unexpected sight of her boyfriend in the crowd. He wasn’t supposed to be here—he’d just raced in Canada the day before!

A smile broke across her face, and the crowd erupted even louder, thinking it was for them. She kept singing, but her eyes kept darting back to him, unable to believe he’d flown across countries just to surprise her.

After the final song, Amelie stepped off the stage, breathless and exhilarated. The cheers of the crowd still echoed in her ears as she made her way backstage. Her manager approached, congratulating her on a killer performance, but she could barely focus.

—Where’s Lando?— she asked, glancing around.

—Out front,— her manager said, grinning. —He’s been trying not to draw too much attention, but good luck with that.—

Amelie laughed, making a beeline for the barricade where she’d seen him. As soon as she stepped out, there he was, leaning casually against the fence like he hadn’t just pulled off the sweetest surprise.

—You absolute idiot,— she said, grinning as she reached him.

—You’re welcome,— he replied, pulling her into a tight hug.

She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him mixed with a hint of travel. —What are you doing here?—

—Had to see my girl,— he said, his voice soft but playful. —You crushed it, by the way.—

—You’re insane,— she said, pulling back to look at him. —You just raced yesterday!—

—Worth it.— He gave her a lopsided smile, and her heart melted a little.

—Come on,— she said, grabbing his hand. —Let’s get out of here before someone recognizes you.—

Back at her apartment, the energy from the festival still buzzed through her veins. Lando flopped onto the couch, stretching out like he owned the place.

—You know,— he said, watching her as she moved around the kitchen, —you could’ve warned me that seeing you on stage would be that hot.—

Amelie rolled her eyes but smirked. —Oh, so this is about you now?—

—Always,— he replied, sitting up and reaching for her hand. He tugged her onto the couch, pulling her into his lap.

—You’re so full of yourself,— she said, but her tone was teasing.

—Only because you make me feel like I’m on top of the world,— he said, leaning in to nuzzle her neck.

—Cheesy,— she muttered, laughing, but her laugh turned into a soft sigh as his lips brushed against her skin.

—I mean it,— he said, his voice dropping. —You’re incredible, and watching you tonight? I couldn’t take my eyes off you.—

Her cheeks flushed, and she tilted her head to meet his gaze. —You’re not bad yourself, Mr. Norris.—

He grinned, his hands sliding to her waist. —Not bad? That’s all I get?—

—You can have this too,— she said, leaning in to kiss him. It was slow and sweet, but the moment their lips met, it ignited a spark that neither of them could ignore.

Lando deepened the kiss, his hands exploring her back as her fingers tangled in his hair. The intensity grew, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other.

—Lando,— she whispered, pulling back slightly.

—Hmm?— he murmured, chasing her lips.

—I can’t.—

His brows furrowed, concern flashing across his face. —What’s wrong?—

—I’m on my period,— she said bluntly, biting her lip.

Lando froze, blinking at her before groaning dramatically and flopping back against the couch. —Are you kidding me?—

She burst out laughing, sliding off his lap but staying close. —Sorry, lover boy. Bad timing.—

—This is a tragedy,— he said, covering his face with his hands. —The worst day of my life.—

—You’ll survive,— she said, patting his chest.

He peeked at her through his fingers, a sly grin forming. —Doesn’t mean I can’t still kiss you senseless.—

—Try it, and I’ll throw you out,— she said, but her laughter betrayed her.

They spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder as they talked about everything and nothing. Lando might have been overdramatic, but deep down, he was just happy to be there with her.

--------------

liked by gracieabrams, manudayman, and others

ameliedayman: Gov ball that was one of the biggest loudest most playful crowds l’ve ever seen. so grateful for each and every one!!!! Thanks for having us!

View all 9,506 comments

landonorris: So grateful for this view too 😏🔥 → ameliedayman: @landonorris Keep hyping me up, babe. It’s working. 😘

alexwolffofficial: And she ate. Left no crumbs. Per usual. 🔥 → ameliedayman: @alexwolffofficial Love you, hypeman 🖤

livinforf1: She really said “watch me shine,” and Lando said “I’m blinded.” 😂

hatersgonnahate: Honestly, she’s overhyped. Crowd was probably just drunk. 🤷‍♀️

lovers44: Imagine performing for thousands and your man still makes it all about him. 💀

chillvibes101: She’s so iconic. Lando, you’re punching. 😌 → landonorris: @chillvibes101 I know, and I’ll keep punching if it means she’s mine.

teamamelie: The vocals, the energy, the LOOK. Gov Ball wasn’t ready for you, babe!

landoarmy: Lando probably sent her 100 texts after this. Let her breathe, king. 😂

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Guarded Desires: Part 9

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Padawan!Qimir x Princess!Reader

Summary: After an assassination attempt on your mother, she’s asked a favor from the Jedi Council to watch over you and your family until the assailant has been caught. As a result, your mother’s old friend, Master Vernestra, has her padawan, Qimir, be your bodyguard. Based off my imagine here.

Series Masterlist

You and Qimir are training again. You grab his wrist and pull him in. Your eyes meet his and then glance at his lips. You lean in, lips hovering over his. When he moves a sliver of an inch forward, you suddenly wrap your leg behind his and push him to the ground. A cloud of dust surrounds you in his fall. You giggle, waving the dust away from you. When it clears, you look down at Qimir. He stares up at you with a smirk “You cheated.”

You shrug, “You said that my enemy will use anything to take me down. So I did it to you before you could do it to me.” You help him up and you stand there face to face. You kiss him on the cheek and procced to walk away.

You hear the call of your name and you turn. Only now it's not Qimir standing there, but Orin. He's standing in his King's Guard amor, his hand outstretched to you, "Ready?"

"For?"

"Our wedding, of course," he says with a chuckle.

You look down and see you're suddenly in a wedding dress. When you look back up, Qimir is in Orin's place again.

He's older now. His hair grown out, he no longer has that long braided strand. He has facial hair and his features are more defined, mature. But his aura is cold, hardened. His face is stern as he says, "You can't marry him."

You narrow your eyes at Qimir, "You left me, Qimir. It's been years. I-I have to do this. It's what I'm meant to do. I'm not some naive princess anymore."

He clenches his jaw and takes two steps towards you, "I'm coming back to you, Y/N," he says with certainty before disappearing and, ultimately, waking you from your dream.

Your eyes shoot open and you slowly sit up. Sunlight shines through your room and you look at the corner where your wedding dress is displayed.

The dress is floor length with a train falling behind it. Woven into it are white flowers. The sleeves are made of lace, made to weave down your arms like branches. It's a beautiful dress that the modiste worked on.

Tomorrow you're getting married to Orin, just like your father wanted. Your planet is no longer what it used to be. Your people used to look up to your family, but now they fear you. After your father sided with the hostiles, your home isn't filled with love, light, and hope as before. Your mother is now reserved, tired of fighting with your father. Your sisters have lost their youthful vibrance.

Your father now ruled Nerathos Prime with an iron fist and with the combatants at his side, no one has the power to oppose.

Not even you. For the fire that once burned bright inside you has dimmed over the years. Your marriage to Orin will be the day it's finally snuffed out.

________________

You're going over the last bit of wedding details you have left. Your mother has spent the last month working on this event since this is all she's been resorted to now. You have your father to thank for that.

When you eat breakfast, the meal is silent. You, your mother, and your sisters don't say a word unless spoken to.

"Are you ready for tomorrow, starlight?" Starlight. Your father hadn't called you that in years.

You nod, "Yes, father. Mother and I have worked hard to ensure that this wedding will be successful."

"Good. I'm sure you're excited to finally be wed, hm? Especially to such a fine man like Orin."

You nod again, "Yes, Orin will make a great husband."

"And an even greater king. His father and I have been talking about this for years, you know?" he continues his meal with a grin.

It's true. Throughout your life, you and Orin have been told that you and he are meant to be together. Never once had you seen Orin as something more than a friend. Yes, he is handsome and kind. He's the only support you've had throughout these past years of your father's change and turn of reign. Quite frankly, he is the best man you could marry. You had only hoped that you would marry for love.

Stupid, young, naive little you.

Your father finishes his meal and dismisses you all. Ada and Aspen go to the library for their studies. You and your mother head to the ballroom to go over any last minute arrangements.

Your mother loops her arm through yours and pats your hand, "I know you wish for things to go different, my sweet, but at least you are marrying a man you know and care for."

"I know, mama. I am grateful for that, it's just, you know..."

"I know," she responds and there's a silence between you two. Before you step into the ballroom, she pauses, "Have you thought about him since the engagement?"

"Who?"

"Vernestra's former padawan."

"A little," you mumble out in slight embarrassment, "Just...I've just thought about how nice it was to have affections for someone and have them returned. Even if it was short lived. But he's gone. I'm sure he's much different now. I am too."

"That you are, but, you'll always be my little starlight," she presses a kiss to your head and you relish in her warmth and motherly love.

"Alright. Finishing touches," she says before guiding you into the ballroom that's dressed in your family's royal colors.

__________________________

It had been years since Qimir has seen you, but you were always on his mind. You were the catalyst that set everything into motion and you didn't even know it.

After he met you, he started to re-think the teachings of the Jedi. He started to think that maybe the Jedi teachings weren't the way of life anymore.

The more he thought about it, thought about how it felt being with you, the more he started pulling further and further away from the Jedi life.

Master Vernestra felt it. She sensed the change and tried her best to pull her padawan back. But she was too late. She had lost her padawan, a darkness overcoming him and leading to his ultimate demise.

Or she had thought.

Qimir, now older and more skilled, has the strength and power to do what he had wanted all those years ago...

[thesassypadawan]

Home For Life Day (Knight Obi-Wan x WifeReader)

Summary: It’s the night before Life Day and all through the house.  Not a creature was stirring, except you…whose waiting on that hopeful arrival.  (Inspired by and pairs well with *NSYNC’s Home For Christmas)

Warnings: Contains fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

Notes: Happy Life Day, lovelies! ❤️💚

riduur = wife/husband/spouse; cyar’ika = darling, sweetheart; ba’vodu = uncle; kar’tayl gar darasuum = love you

- “You can light the fire for me, darling…  I’ll be home, promise…”

- Sighing softly to yourself, you turned off the comlink.  You’d received the message in the early hours of the morning, listening to it over and over.  Feeling yourself fill with hope and excitement…anticipation.  However, as the hours ever so slowly crept by and the sunny rays of day faded into the purple hues of twilight…quietly extinguishing into the dark blanket of night.  So too did your faith that he would make it in time.

- But perhaps…maybe so…

- Shedding the snug fitting dress, you shrug on the tunic left behind from his last extended stay.  Surrounding yourself with his familiar, comforting scent; inhaling and exhaling in delight.  A gentle smile forming at the corners of your mouth, noticing the way it settles and stretches over your ample bump.  Knowing that soon enough…

- “Come on, little one,” you whisper.  Running a hand over, chasing after the tiny flutters with your fingers.  “There’s still some baking to be done…you can be my taste tester.”

- Carefully you maneuvered down the few steps in your cozy house.  Smile growing while you pause in the doorway of the now silent, tranquil living room.  Watching for a moment or two at how snow falls outside the window…how the flakes catch and glimmer in the glow globes’ warm light, the orange cast from the blazing hearth.  Then finally waddling towards the small kitchen, where a pot of something sweet and cinnamony simmers.

- Buzzing, flittering all about.  Diligently gathering up the last remaining ingredients, you eventually come to hover over the rickety stove.  Swaying back and forth slightly, humming a tune your mother sung during this special time of year. 

- So swept, caught up in your own thoughts; blissfully stirring away.  You don't even hear the front door creak open, let alone the two (then one) set of footsteps thumping loudly down the cramped hallway.  Until…

- Strong arms wind around your waist; settling beneath, cradling the swell of your stomach.  Rich, silken voice fills the aromic air; muttering lovingly from above.  “Whatever you're making smells absolutely delicious.”

- A string of giggles bubbles up from your throat as he leans down to nuzzle the side of your neck.  The scruff of his not so neatly trimmed beard tickling, sending sparks through you.  That smile of yours widening even further still.  “You’re favorite…what else did you expect?”

- “How did I get so lucky?”  Chuckling against; lavishing your skin with tender kisses, nipping occasionally at that one spot.  His palm glides, follows the curve of your belly.  Rubs soothing circles along the way, series of weak kicks trailing behind in its’ wake.  “I truly don’t deserve such a wonderful riduur.”

- Abandoning the spoon, your hand reaches up and behind.  Fingers tangling and burying in his shaggy, auburn locks; nails scratching lightly.  “Hush, cyar’ika.  You do; everything good in this galaxy, the next.  Including me and-”

- “Master, help…I’m out numbered!”  A certain lanky teen comes abruptly stumbling in.  Expression of mischief and joy plastered on his face; despite a grinning child hanging from each of his limbs, a fifth riding on his back…and, lastly, a sixth speedily crawling after.  “I stopped to admire the glow orbs and…they ambushed me!”

- “Play with us, ba’vodu!”  They chorus and laugh, holding tightly to his baggy clothes.  “Yeah, play with us, Uncle Ani!”

- Tilting your head, you exchange a knowing look with one another.  The very same as always…as that faithful day you two first met, when you started this amazing journey together.  The one that speaks volumes, silently says…kar’tayl gar darasuum.

- Before turning both your attentions back to your beautiful, incredible family.  “Happy Life Day…  It’s good to have everyone home…”

Tag List: @cacti5539, @espinathena-17

[enruiinas]

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ Even upon drawing away from the redhead, attempting to shift his focus elsewhere so she might make her way to the shower before the thought of her leaving his sight crept up with him, Law couldn't help the way his gaze trailed after her as she made her way across the room. He'd never been able to before, either.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ The thought was almost comforting. Perhaps not everything had changed between them, after all. Amber orbs that followed every move the woman made. Arms that longed to reach out and pull her back to him again the second she stepped around him…

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ So many weeks he'd spent restless without her, but his body had never never forgotten how perfectly she'd felt curled up beside him.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ An absent nod as Nami rummaged in her backpack, assuring a hasty return as she sifted through its contents for a change of clothes including a too-large T-shirt that derailed the doctor's train of thought entirely: it seemed he wasn't the only one who'd held onto whatever remnants of their time together they could get their hands on.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ❝So that's where that got off to all this time.❞ Law's quiet response barely carried across the distance between them, the soft observation followed by only half of a half-truth. ❝I wondered.❞

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ And he had wondered, in the months since he'd last seen her - though not where it had gone. He'd guessed well enough where the shirt had disappeared to in the middle of the night when he'd awoken to the much smaller - much brighter one she'd left behind her.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ No. He'd wondered if she would keep it. If she lay awake at night sometimes, clutching fabric in her fingers trying to cling to whatever scent and memory still woven in its fibers the way he'd often done with hers when he'd awoken to silence.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ That it had made it back with her told him everything he needed. Brows furrowed as the rest of Nami's words caught up to him, Law made his way slowly to the coffee table - or more specifically, to the item she'd placed upon it.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ A reasonable enough theory at what the journal contained inside it, and yet a strange sense of unreality settled upon the surgeon's shoulders as he scooped it from its surface. He made no move to open it just yet, but his eyes remained glued to its cover, unseeing. Over the rhythmic, thumping pulse in Law's ears, Nami's voice seemed to come from someplace far more distant than the step or two she stood away from him.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ He had to blink to pull himself away from where his thoughts had tried to drag him - and when he finally tore his gaze away to look back at her, there was a glint of something uncertain - something hesitant in golden irises.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ❝There's the one I kept your other things in," he pointed out. ❝Unless you'd rather… well.❞ Trailing off uncomfortably, he made a vague, sweeping motion towards the hall and the doorways off of it. All of the doorways off of it. ❝You can put them wherever you want to, okay? Just…❞ Stay, his frown seemed to say. She could have whatever drawer she wanted - however many drawers she wanted, in whichever room she preferred. Even if it wasn't his. Even if it took time to get back there again - if she really meant to stay, they could figure it out from wherever she needed to. ❝Take your pick,❞ he said instead.

Nodding, Nami reluctantly untangled herself from the man's arms. Hands trailed along his hips, careful to keep her hands on him as long as possible. As if she feared that the spell would end as quickly as it had begun, fearing that he would change his mind the second she was no longer in sight-

She really had to stop doing that. At some point the self-contempt would not come so easily. That day would not be today.

Tucking a hair behind her ear, she offered a weary smile. “Okay, I won't be too long.”

Stepping around Law's larger frame, Nami headed for the door to gather up her backpack. Taking a moment to leave her shoes in the same spot, she placed it on the couch to retrieve several items. A pair of panties, a familair shirt and a journal. The last item she left on the table. “This is for you- to read, that is- I still need to update it, of course…”

Whenever he was ready- Whether that was tonight or a week from now- He would find her careful scrawl of the last handful of weeks. He would find her mood swings, reports of morning sickness, cravings along with the same photo she had given to him. 'My heart', it read. 'I can't wait to meet you'.

“Do you-” Pausing, brows furrowed and Nami had to duck her head back into her pack to consider how to ask her next question. In an effort to show Law that she had zero intentions of leaving, she wanted to put away the rest of her things… but wasn't sure by staying where exactly she was expected to stay. It would be over confident of her to assume that he might want her in his bedroom. If he wasn't ready for that, she was more than willing to stay in the guest bedroom…

“Do you… have a drawer or somewhere I can put my things?”

… but she wouldn't turn him down either if he wanted her to.

[gaiuskamilah]

im gonna be honest. i am way more interested in lustre and kieran exes drama than i am with anything else in this series. lustre is a horrible bitch and i love her for it

[milkbreadtoast]

i think i can only read about 2-3 ch of twsb per day (not including when i skip days to draw)... assuming i do 2 a day... that means itll take about a month to get caught up to where i left off... thats not bad actually

[jamiethebee]

Seeing my hero spoilers and I'm fucking shaking omg I know I'm unhealthily attached to spinner at this point but ooooh I'm gonna keep trying to hope horikoshi gives everyone a satisfying conclusion (in line with the character development everyone has gone through till now) but I'm .... Ooooh ooohohoho.