#i wasn’t expecting some of these to be so spot on!!!

[foreingersgod]

Kiss Me ? . CC

pairings: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin should be focusing on practice, but she finds it incredibly hard to take her focus off of you

“please baby can we just go home?” caitlin groaned from the gymnasium floor, the ball that was once in her hands now bouncing carelessly on the ground.

you rolled your eyes with a brief chuckle, moving your eyes from your phone to look at her pleading expression. you adjusted yourself in your seat as you watched her drag over to your spot on the sidelines.

caitlin had been in and out of the gym, going to practices and running drills nonstop recently, and it was starting to drive her crazy. she loved basketball and she felt more than comfortable when she was playing, but damn did she miss you even more. the longer she spent at the gym was more time spent away from you, and lately it was taking a toll on her. most days she just wanted to stay in bed with you and never leave. and even though you would absolutely love that, you’d feel guilty if you were the reason she wasn’t sticking to her schedule.

you tried to be a supportive and motivating girlfriend by doing everything you could. you'd do homework on the bleachers and come to practice with her to keep her company, packing her a small lunch and making sure her water bottle was filled. and, on days you couldn't attend, you'd write her a small note and put it in her duffle bag for a small pick-me-up.

but unlike you had hoped, your company had only made it more difficult for her to stay focused. caitlin found every excuse in the book to wander over in your direction. sometimes it was to tell you joke, other times she claimed she wanted to help you with homework, and most of the time it was just to touch you in some sort of way. kiss your cheek, rest her head on your shoulder, rub her hand along your thigh...any sort of touch, you name it and she'd abandon her drills just to do it.

"cait, we've only been here for like 20 minutes" you chuckled when she sat down in front of you, her head lolling back to rest in your lap "you need to practice"

"but i miss you" she whined with a pout "i'll practice tomorrow"

"yea you said that yesterday. and the day before that...and the day before that..." you teased as your hands instinctively came up to play with her hair, fingers toying with her head band and ponytail. she laughed at that, shaking her head although she knew it was true. you were her weak spot, that was clear "come on babe, just a little while longer and we can go home. what can i do to motivate you?"

"i dunno" she shrugged as she sat up, pulling up her socks and hoisting herself up. she pondered for a moment, eyes traveling across the room in deep thought before her face lit up excitedly "oh, i think i have an idea"

"hm?" you questioned, expecting her to ask you to run drills or pass her the balls to shoot.

"kiss me" she said, hands on her hips proudly, sly smirk tugging at her lips.

"kiss you?" your eyebrow quirked up, letting her know that you were beyond confused "how's that gonna get you to focus on practicing?"

"okay okay hear me out-" she defended, but you were still skeptical. hearing her out probably didn't entail anything good, you thought.

"alright, i'm listening" you egged her on "let's hear this idea of yours"

"so i'm thinking," the smile on her lips now even bigger "that every time i make a shot...you reward me by kissing me! it's a win-win, really, you know cause i get a kiss for doing a good job, and you get to kiss a basketball superstar"

that earned a dramatic eyeroll from you, although you couldn't suppress the lovesick grin that formed as well. she was quite creative, you knew, but you hadn't expected this sort of ploy from her. through an infectious fit of laughter, you saw her waiting for a genuine response with the repetitive tapping of her foot on the varnished floor. as corny as it was, you couldn't help but give into her plan.

"okay fine, you dork" you sighed playfully as you stood up, walking over to her "but only if you make it, no distractions"

"yes ma'am" she saluted, rushing over to her discarded ball to get started as quick as possible.

and so it started, a pattern consisting of deep kisses and effortless three pointers. you'd watch her take her position at the curved line, knees and elbows bending ever so slightly before she shot the ball straight through the net, she was flying through each shot with ease. then, after retrieving the ball, she'd jog over to you giddily, lips puckering as she waited for her promised kiss. and each time you'd smile as your arms looped around her neck and your lips pressed into hers. that feeling would never get old.

time seemed to fly by as you two continued your little routine, 20 minutes soon turned into 40 and then into over an hour. it felt as though you could have done this all day long, missing the feeling of her lips every time she ran back to the three-point line. and maybe you could have, but cailtin began to get tired, her shots getting sloppier with each passing minute. you knew that the both of you were ready to head home and get some much-needed rest.

caitlin slumped down into a seat, wiping her forehead with her exceptionally sweaty gatorade towel before pulling a spare hoodie over her head. meanwhile you helped her collect her things to make it a little easier for her. with a comforting hand on the small of her back, you guided her out of the gymnasium and made your seemingly long trek out to the car.

you got behind the wheel with an exhausted slump, caitlin already buckling herself up in the passenger's seat. you turned on the a.c. to a medium setting, just the way cailtin liked it, and turned the radio to her favorite station. she hummed, heart swelling as the fact that you knew her so well. the cold air emitting from the vents soothed her almost instantly, causing her to flutter eyes shut in content.

"babe?" you called out to an oddly quiet car, normally she was a chatter box after practice, never letting you get a moment of silence. you never complained, you loved everything she had to say "baby?"

still there was no response, only the soft buzz of a taylor swift song in the background. you shifted your eyes off the road for a quick second to look to your right to inspect the situation. you could have sworn your heart exploded in that moment, seeing her sleepy state in her seat. she had sunk deep into the leather fabric, one arm propped on the center console to hold up her head. her lips were parted ever so slightly as soft breathes escaped her, one of her hoodie strings caught between her teeth. she was completely knocked out. if your hands weren't steering, you would have taken a picture. she looked so soft and sweet, the perfect depiction of your girl.

in the public eye, she was most known to be strong and resilient no matter what was thrown at her. and it was more than true, caitlin was the toughest person you knew. but what most people didn't get to see, was this side of her, gentle caitlin who let her guard down. the caitlin who snores and drools when she sleeps, the cailtin that would turn down practice just to be with you.

the cailtin that can't help but smile when you reach over, eyes still closed as you run your thumb across her cheekbone, wanting the feeling of your touch to last forever.

[merbear25]

Hello! Glad to see requests are open! Seeing that may I get a small thing for Zoro, Law and Mihawk. I've been having the idea of a devil fruit user reader falling into the water and needing rescuing (I'm very aware Law is also a devil fruit user but that just gives extra angst does it not). Hurt/comfort of course

Hello! Thanks for sending this in. I decided to change it a little for Law's, but I hope you like it anyway 💜💜

Even with precautions set in place, the sea was where the unexpected could happen. Whether a storm, sea monster, or battle taking place, the threat of the water was something you could never escape. Luckily, those closest to you were always prepared to protect.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, headcanons/scenarios, reader is a devil fruit user

If you went overboard… (Zoro, Law, Mihawk)

Zoro: He’d always been protective over those closest to him, so you were no exception. Though never overbearing, he still kept an eye on you. During times of peril, he kept you in arm's length as often as he could. You were capable—strong in your own right. However, there were dangers that automatically made you far more vulnerable. 

That day’s waters were vicious. The waves cascading over the railings gave no sign of the storm letting up. One wrong step was all it took to send you hurtling overboard. A shriek that pierced even during the hurricane-like winds sent the other hearts onboard plummeting.

Their cries for you weren’t accompanied by Zoro’s, but his action traveled faster than their worried calls. Before your limp body had the chance to sink much lower than the surface, he was there, diving in after you.

He was never short of prepared. Even when taking one of many naps, being aware of his surroundings never faltered. 

A watchful eye on everything and everyone, his friends being the ones calling for actions guided by the heart.

He wasn’t one to hound others on things they were already aware of. The unexpected should be expected, and that meant there’d be times when you were made vulnerable and in need of help, just like all the others.

Law: The sea gave no pardons to anyone. Your devil fruit abilities came with a burden that at times felt more like a curse. The calm waters the Polar Tang was cutting through turned dark as the daytime sky transformed into night. With night came more blind spots because of the abyss inevitably closing in.

A sudden wack against the side sent some of the crew members to the floor. Books flew off the shelves and the alarm sounded through the metal rooms. Red lights that blinked in urgency left split seconds of total darkness in your room. Another slam caused you to trip and miss the door handle.

Water started spouting through the cracks, and with each attack against the submarine the cracks grew in size. Your cries for help were quickly silenced by the rising water. The cold ocean held you in a tight embrace against your bedroom floor, yet offering no comfort. An immediate drop outside your room jolted you awake.

It would come as second nature. No thought, just action. You were one of the few who he considered close to him.

Rescuing you, no matter how often, came with some lectures, though. Even if it wasn’t entirely your fault, he mostly did it as a way of expressing his fear of losing someone he cared about again.

Thorough check-ups after such shocks to the system were given, even if you protested saying you were just fine.

Mihawk: Holding the title of the greatest swordsman marked him and anyone close to him as a target. The bullseye seen by the world was drifting casually through the seas, catching the rays of that day’s sun. The rippling water from an approaching ship didn’t even cause him to open his eyes. He was still enjoying the warmth of the sun, but with the supposed enemy drawing nearer, he was left with no choice but to give them even a fraction of his attention.

The captain baited Mihawk, wanting to see the swordsman’s raw power for himself, even if that meant putting his crew’s lives in jeopardy. However, Mihawk wasn’t known for being temperamental, which many of these hecklers seemed to forget. A smooth swing of his sword and their ships sank to pits of the ocean floor.

When a shot was fired at you, the bullet was sliced in mid air. Though you hung around someone whose composure didn’t break, you flinched enough for the both of you. A motion back one step too far was all it took for you to lose your footing and slip into the shackles bound to you by the devil fruit. His challengers were swatted like the pests they were before he dove in after you.

Even his lectures were articulated like advice, which you accepted without protest.

He’d insist on giving you training to help you control these impulses, albeit natural, were life threatening in the wrong situations.

That being said, he obviously knew that once you were overboard, you required his full attention. He simply wanted to offer you assistance to prevent this from happening more frequently.

[rikiislvr]

✧ moonstruck - nishimura riki

pairing: nishimura riki x afab!reader

summary: you two haven’t spoke since senior year graduation, and didn’t end on the best terms.. until he spots you at the place he least expected

you swore yourself up and down you would NEVER speak to nishimura riki again.

before, you two were the bestest of friends, you could say you even managed to catch feelings for him in some way. he treated you with nothing but respect and love.

he offered everything you’ve ever wanted, even homework.

you’ve known him since freshman year, he was the first person you’d turn too whenever you needed ANYONE.

and that was what led you to ask him out, he said yes, and it felt like the best thing you could ever imagine.

but it wasn’t.

the day of your first date, you were told to meet him at a pretty empty park with tall flowers and lots of trees, you wore a pretty white flowing dress with your hair into pigtails,

you made your way to the spot that you were supposed to meet him at, and your heart has never dropped faster before,

there he was, but he wasn’t alone. he was with his.. ex?

she looked up at him, tears in his eyes, niki slowly cupped her face and pressed his lips onto hers, and that was what broke you.

you didn’t understand. why would he say yes to you if he didn’t have things settled with his ex yet. you knew of her, he would always tell you that he was over her thanks your help.

but it sure didn’t look like he was over at right now.

you covered your mouth to hide any noises, and failed miserably, niki’s head snapped back your way, his eyes softening,

“yn-“ he tried but you had already ran off and back home.

graduation came, you didn’t say a word to him, for some reason your heart ached everytime you even looked over at him, as soon as graduation was over, you said your byes to your friends before rushing to the front of the school where your parents awaited in the car.

before niki could find you and speak to you.

you didn’t care about closure, or.. that’s what you thought.

which leads to now. it’s been two year since you’ve heard from him, and let’s say you were doing too well.

your mind was constantly filled with him, every second of the day for two full years.

“i wonder what he’s doing now.” or, “does he have a girlfriend?” “how’s college going for him.” and so much more.

you sighed, closing your laptop, you took off your glasses and slowly got up, the sun was setting soon, you decided to go out and get some fresh air before the night arrived.

you walked to the closet of your small apartment, putting on your shoes, you wore a white flowy dress..

white.. flowy.. dress.. gosh everything reminds you of him. and that day.

you sighed, grabbing your tote bag before leaving out the door,

you made your way down the street, you didn’t have a specific place on where you wanted to go, you just had to get out your room before you actually went insane from thinking too much.

without even realizing it, you walked into a park, you smiled, liking the peaceful atmosphere, but something seemed familiar.

because it was.

you were in the park where you saw him, where you were supposed to have your first official date with him. but.. well, you know what went wrong.

you frowned to yourself and sat on a empty bench, staring at the flowers ahead of you, your mind was just full of him.

like you said, you didn’t care about the closure. but you did. you needed it, it was killing you that you didn’t ask him why he did what he did before storming out that school for the last time.

but, you were the only one who went on a walk.

niki had a grey hoodie on and sweats, airpods in and head down as he walked down the path of the, what he thought, empty park.

his thoughts were eating him alive, he was caught in such a bad situation and never had the chance to explain it to you.

he hasn’t seen you in two years, and it’s been weighing heavy on his heart.

you two were the closest ever, always hanging out after school, getting food or icecream, staying the night, you wouldn’t even notice during movie nights you’d fall asleep on his shoulder as he played with your hair.

he fell in love with you because it was hard not too with how close you guys were. and the first date was ruined before it even started.

he continued to walk, soft music playing in his ears, he finally lifted his head, looking around the peaceful park, his took a deep breath,

but his eyes suddenly stopped,

not on just anything, but on you.

he felt his heart drop, he completely froze and tensed up, you sat on the bench, your facial expression looked empty, compared to how smiley you were in highschool.

and he sighed, knowing it was his fault, he couldn’t fuck this up.

this was probably his last chance he would ever have at speaking to you, so he wiped his sweaty palms on the side of his hoodie before taking slow steps to the bench you sat at,

oh and yes, your heart dropped as well. you saw him in the corner of your eye, but refused to look over at him at all when he sat at the other end of the bench.

if anything, your eyes began to water, you thought you would never see him again after cutting communication with him completely.

you look down at your hands, what do you do in this situation?

before you could speak up, he beat you to it,

“yn…” he says low, which makes your heart ache, hearing him say your name again, you lift your head slowly, turning it to meet his gaze,

his eyes were low, they looked almost heavy, as if he wasn’t getting any sleep, and his expression was filled with concern and worry.

“niki..” you reply, your voice small, you were scared if you even spoke too loud he’d disappear. he sighed and stood up, holding his arms out.

you wanted to reject, but the way your body unconsciously got up and ran to his arms was what stopped you, you wrap your arms around him, not knowing how much you needed this hug,

you sobbed into his chest, niki’s felt his heart breaking, he wrapped his arms around you, tight but not enough to cause you discomfort.

knowing you were crying because of him, made him feel horrible.

“i’ve missed you so much.. i never thought id see you again.” he mumbled in your hair, which was what made you lift your head to look up at him.

you had tears streaming down your cheeks, your nose slightly red from sniffing, “why’d you do it..” you whispered, niki sighed and sucked in his lips,

“i don’t know. she was crying to me about some.. personal family problems.. she asked for just one kiss and of course.. i did it.” he groaned and ran his fingers through his hair,

you didn’t reply, i just looked up at him still, “i’m so sorry yn. im such a idiot for doing that.. i haven’t stoped thinking about you ever since.” he frowned,

you’ve never saw him frown before, and let’s just say, you didn’t like it.

“if i could go back in time and rewind the whole process, id do so with no hesitation.” he cups your face, “i broke your heart. which is what broke mine. i am so sorry..” he whispered,

you felt your eyes water again, you didn’t like the reasoning on why he kissed her, but you couldn’t stay mad at him since it happened years ago,

you melt into his hands, before slowly replying, “i forgive you.”

and niki could burst into flames just from that, he felt his heart connecting back together, “w-what..” he says, lower than a whisper.

“i forgive you niki. i can’t stay mad at you forever can i?” you smiled softly, niki didn’t reply, instead he pulled you back into his embrace, tears pricking in his eyes.

you hugged him back, you’ve been craving this for so long, you wouldn’t let it up so easily.

“please. give me another chance. i promise you i won’t disappoint you again.” he whispered into your hair.

and you couldn’t say no. you slowly nod in return and his grip on your tightened softly. both of you back to where you both belonged.

in each others arms, comforting each other. he was once your best best friend, and he still was. you were willing to forgive AND forget,

just one more try.. the universe brought you two back together for a reason, right?

a/n: i am so sorry for the lack of posts lately! so here’s a big fat drabble i made in two days for you all! hopefully you enjoy, and i am glad to say i amm backkk! <3

taglist : @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii @k1ttylvr @geniejunn @pkjay @chaevibes @jiyeons-closet

[twirlyleafs]

“Reckless.”

Charles Leclerc x driver! Reader

TW: mention of death, fighting

~~~~

“What the hell was that?”

Charles’ angry voice cut through the hum of your garage like a whip, startling you enough to make you spin around to face him. You hadn’t expected him to be here this fast, you’d barely gotten out of the car, but then again maybe you should have. You knew he’d be angry considering the intense qualifying session where you’d wrung every last bit out of your car—and yourself. In those final two laps, you’d driven with reckless precision, pressing Alonso so hard in the corners that he’d had to back off to not risk contact. It wasn’t exactly clean racing, but it had earned you a spot on the second row. Fourth on the grid, your best start all season. The best you would probably be able to get out of your car. But as satisfying as it was, you knew that Charles would have something to say about it.

“Keep your voice down, Charles.” You muttered while unzipping the top half of your suit, hoping you could brush this off before it turned into a scene. Charles wasn’t having it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him, jaw clenched, his hands slicing through the air as he spoke, disbelief radiating off him.

“Keep my voice—are you serious? What’s your problem? That overtake was reckless. Fernando was barely an inch away from accidentally sending you flying into the wall!”

“Calm down.” You shot him a look as you brushed past him, hoping he’d drop it if you just kept walking. But Charles scoffed, immediately following you, his tone hard and unforgiving.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I was right behind you! I saw the way you went in—God, you’re just lucky it was Alonso and not one of the rookies. That could’ve been a disaster.” Charles was relentless, his words chasing you all the way to your driver’s room. Your fists were clenched, nails digging into your palms as you worked to keep your own frustration under control. You knew his worry came from a place of love, but right now, it felt like he was questioning you as a driver, as if he didn’t trust you to know what you were doing. And that stung more than you cared to admit. Once the door shut behind you both, his words softened, though they still held an edge. “What were you thinking out there?”

You let out a heavy breath, finally turning to meet his gaze. “I was thinking about getting a decent starting position. I wanted-“

“You don’t risk everything for a good position!” he interrupted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Have you talked to Fernando? He’s probably fuming! If that had been me in his shoes, I would’ve lost it—”

“Good thing it wasn’t you, then.” You snapped, turning your back on him as you began unzipping the rest of your suit. It felt safer to face the wall, where he couldn’t see the raw mix of emotions that tightened your throat and threatened to spill over. “You don’t get it, Charles. You have a team, a car, a contract. You have a future. A name. I’m fighting for scraps, like every shot is the last one I’ll get.”

He fell silent and for a moment you thought he might back down, let you have this small victory. But his voice cut through the quiet, low and sharp. “Maybe I don’t get it. But I do get that you’re pushing yourself too far. And one day it won’t just be a scare. You’ll get hurt.”

“Yeah, well, I can handle myself.” You retorted as you turned to face him, your gaze defiant. “I knew what I was doing with Alonso. I wouldn’t have tried it with one of the rookies, I knew they couldn’t handle that.”

“Can you?” His eyes held a look you rarely saw, a mixture of frustration, fear, and maybe even doubt. “Can you handle it, Y/N? Because from where I’m standing, that looked less like confidence and more like…like desperation.” His words hit you like a slap, hurting more than you wanted to admit. Was it desperation? Maybe there was some truth in that, but you weren’t about to let him see you flinch. Not when he didn’t understand what it was like to constantly have to prove yourself, to feel every race could be your last if you didn’t show results.

“Are you calling me a bad driver Charles?” You asked, the challenge clear in your tone. He ran a hand over his face, sighing in exasperation.

“I’m calling you reckless. Stupid, even. You could be amazing, I know you’re amazing, but you keep pulling moves like this and I’m just scared it’s going to end in disaster.”

You swallowed, ignoring the sting of his words. “I can’t afford to play it safe, Charles. You wouldn’t get it, you don’t have to get it. You’re in a car that could win a championship. I’m just trying to prove I belong here.” For a moment, he looked as if he was about to argue, his eyes narrowing with the usual stubbornness you knew too well. But instead, he just shook his head, stepping back, disappointment flickering in his gaze. He lingered for a moment, his gaze softened, as if he wanted to reach out but held himself back. Then he turned, leaving the room as quickly as he’d entered, his words hanging in the air, heavy and unshakable. You stood alone, the silence pressing down on you, and no matter how much you wanted to brush it off his words kept echoing in your mind.

The hours dragged on, the buzz of qualifying still lingering as you were pulled from one interview to the next. You smiled for the cameras, deflected the sharpest questions, and managed to shrug off any mention of that heated moment with Alonso. But under the surface, your mind churned with the memory of your earlier fight with Charles. His words still echoed in your head, gnawing at you in a way you couldn’t shake. Reckless. Desperate. You’d been called a lot of things, but hearing it from him hurt like hell. It was late when you finally reached the hotel, the quiet of the lobby a stark contrast to the noisy paddock. The tension in your shoulders was nearly unbearable as you made your way up to your room, the thought of sleep the only thing keeping you moving forward. When you unlocked the door and stepped inside Charles was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze flicking up from his phone when you entered. He looked worn, the earlier fire in his eyes now replaced with something gentler, but equally intense. You felt your heart skip, torn between relief and irritation as the weight of your argument settled heavily in the air between you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, watching you as you set down your things.

“Hey.” You shrugged off your jacket, avoiding his gaze, the room feeling too small, too charged. Silence hung thickly for a moment before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” he began, a slight hesitance in his voice. “For showing up like that. I shouldn’t have come into your garage and… yelled at you. That was out of line.”

You nodded, acknowledging his apology but not yet ready to let go of the frustration simmering beneath your skin. Slowly making your way across the room you stopped by the dresser to remove your jewelry, plopping your watch and bracelet down on the cold surface before turning around to look at him again. “You still think I’m reckless? Stupid?” Your voice was calm, even as your heart pounded in your chest. Charles looked down, rubbing his hands together as he seemed to weigh his words.

“Yes. I do. I think you’re incredible out there, but sometimes…” He paused, looking up at you, his eyes soft yet resolute. “Sometimes it scares me. Seeing you push so hard, knowing one wrong move could just, you know, just end everything.”

You sighed, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the dresser. “Charles, I’m fighting for my career. Every weekend, every race—it’s not just about points or a title chance. It’s about proving that I belong here, that I’m not just some driver filling space at the back of the grid.” You hesitated, struggling to put into words what you’d felt for so long. “I don’t have the luxury of playing it safe.”

“And you think I don’t get that?” His voice rose, a hint of frustration slipping back in. “I know what it’s like to fight, to have to prove myself. You think Ferrari didn’t make me feel like I had to earn my place every damn time I got in that car?”

You scoffed, feeling a flicker of bitterness as you met his gaze. “It’s different, Charles. You still always had the team behind you. A car that can get you to the podium on strategy alone. I don’t have that. I have to be better. I have to take risks.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t fight.” His voice was softer now. “But not at the cost of your safety. There’s a difference between fighting and driving like there’s nothing left to lose.”

You felt a flash of anger, his words hitting a raw nerve. “Maybe I don’t see a difference because I don’t have anything to lose, Charles. I’m already at the back. Already being picked apart by the media trying to prove women don’t belong here. That I don’t belong here. A good result like this might be the only thing keeping me on the grid next season.” Your voice wavered as you continued, the weight of your own words settling heavy on your chest. “Maybe I can’t afford to think about what I have to lose.” At that Charles expression softened, his eyes searching your face.

“And what about me? What if I lose you? Maybe you don’t see it that way, but to me you are the most important thing in this equation.” His words struck you like a blow and for the first time you felt the edges of your anger soften, giving way to something deeper and more vulnerable. You let out a breath, your gaze dropping to the floor as the truth of it all began to settle between you. You swallowed, feeling the prick of tears in your eyes but refusing to let them fall.

“You have to let me fight. Even if it scares you. Because I can’t be the driver I need to be if I’m holding back just to make everyone else feel safe.” Even with your eyes trained on the floor you noted Charles getting up, moving across the room towards you. The ache in your chest reached its peak when his hands carefully found your arms, slowly stroking down them until he could grip your hands in his. He sighed, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles.

“I don’t want you to hold back. I’d never ask that of you, I just-“ he paused and you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. “I just want you to be careful. To remember that you can get to where you wanna be without dying on the way. Baby I want you to have everything, I think you deserve everything and I’m here for you, as long as you don’t disappear on me.” The last of your frustration melted away as you let out a shaky breath, leaning into his embrace. The second Charles noticed you moving closer he dropped your hands, wrapping his arms around you instead. Tucking your head against the crook of his neck you let out a deep sigh, nodding slowly.

“I get it. I get what you’re saying. It’s just hard to think like that when I’m out there, seeing my chances slip away.”

“I know.”

“But I’ll try.” You whispered, the words more of a promise to yourself than to him. “I’ll try to be careful. But I need you to understand that sometimes, this is just how it has to be. It’s the only way I know.” You felt Charles nod, his lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses against the top of your head. You shuffled closer, letting your arms wrap around his torso as his tightened around your frame, grounding you in the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. “You won’t lose me.” You murmured against his shoulder, the words both a promise and a hope. Charles held you close, his lips pressing gently to your temple as you both stood in the quiet of the room, letting the tension and hurt melt away. And for a while, neither of you said anything more, content just to hold each other, finding a fragile peace in the shared silence. Tomorrow, you’d be back on the track, fighting just as hard. But tonight, you were simply here, together.

[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!

Chapter 6 - Your Brother | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

Even though things were ‘good’ you couldn’t help but feel apprehensive about what you and Trent were doing. He was in and out of town so often for football it was hard to know what was happening. So, in the midst of flickering doubts, you had decided you would try to create some self-imposed distance to keep your heart safe. You’d gotten to a place where yes… you were sending nudes, videos of you in bed which in itself maybe wasn’t the smartest but it was happening, you were enjoying it in fact. But enjoyment couldn’t mask apprehension. Still, you were keeping everything just on the phone. Keeping everything hush, not even Layla knew how deep things were getting. And while this digital relationship was blossoming, you were keeping the public one that existed in front of everyone’s eyes at an arm's length. And it hurt to be living what felt like a double life.  You two clearly had no self control and that was evident in the text exchanges so keeping your distance felt smart.  With all of that in mind, you hadn’t expected to see Trent at your door this afternoon, let alone embracing you in a cuddle so warm it felt like he hadn’t seen you in ages when it’d been mere days. You stiffened at first, taken by surprise, but quickly melted into him. As much as you tried to pretend you shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this with him, you yearned for this very thing; the physical connection you were trying so hard to keep at bay. You tried to believe that space was the best thing to do to keep yourself safe but the second his arms wrapped around you… the world melted along with you. Memories of him flooding you. It was like he had your heart before you couldn’t even try to stop him from grabbing it. You were powerless and you loved being weak for him. 

“You’re back home.” Your voice was muffled against his skin in the embrace of the hug. He hummed, squeezing you that much tighter. Just as you began to pull back, his grin widened cheekily. 

“Can you wait here f’me? I got something for you.” Before you could respond, He smiled as he darted back out to his car, leaving you standing there, curiosity building, warmth flooding you. When he returned, he was holding a stunning bouquet, petals in shades of blush and deep red. 

“I don’t play footie in the park anymore so I thought you deserve more than a daisy.” He smiled earnestly with a glint in his eyes that almost looked scared. Trent was still grappling with how to show you just how much he cared. He was worried about Jack, sure, but keeping things hush didn’t feel so bad at the minute as long as he showed you he cared. He was looking for that sweet spot of past and present. And so began another attempt. You couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed as you took the flowers, turning them in your hands, admiring every detail. But Trent wasn’t done. “Pretty girl…” He cooed gently to grab you attention off the floral arrangement and back to him. He smirked holding two more bags. You raised your brow with a smile you couldn’t contain anymore. He handed you a sleek Dior shopping bag, his words tumbling out in a rush. “You know like… I was in just France for the game and… well, I saw this, and I just thought of you.” He stumbled through words with a smile. You turned and placed the flowers and the bag on a console in the foyer of the house unboxing it all. Inside was a mini red Dior lady dior, classic, chic, and unmistakably something you loved on sight. Yes, this was very much so a perk of present day Trent. 

“Trent, I—” You looked up at him, stunned, your heart racing. But before you could finish, he interrupted with a cheeky smirk.

“One more thing… because well, in my opinion it matches and…”  As you took the next bag he was pushing towards you and began to open the other, you smirked with a furrowed brow. It wasn't any more designer, instead something priceless. You pulled out a familiar red top you had just seen Trent wearing on the telly during his match days ago. You smiled seeing a Liverpool Alexander-Arnold jersey. One of his own. “If you ever want to wear one,” he said, his eyes softening. “I’d prefer it if it was mine. Because you know… you’re kind of mine.” The words hung between you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You ran your fingers over the bold name and number on the back, biting back a giddy smile. 

“This is… wow, are you sure, baby, It’s a pretty big statement.” you teased, glancing up at him. He stepped closer, his eyes serious, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I mean it.  You’re… You’re so important to me, Y/N.” That moment felt like a declaration all on its own, leaving you feeling lighter and less uncertain, ready to see where this might possibly go.  That maybe it wasn’t all just for behind closed doors. The gift in your hands felt weighty, more than just fabric or leather—it felt like a quiet promise. “I always liked when you were at the park watching me play growing up, and I really like it when you’re at Anfield now watching me.” His words stuck you deep. Maybe he wasn’t just making it all up about having a crush on your growing up in the park. The way Trent looked at you, the softness in his eyes and the little, lingering smile on his lips, spoke volumes. You glanced down at the jersey again, fingertips tracing over the double barreled last name. This wasn’t just a shirt; it was a claim, a gesture that felt almost absurdly personal. He watched you closely, gauging every shift in your expression. His usual confident demeanor softened, almost vulnerable, as he waited for you to say something more. But words felt clumsy in that moment, so you took a small step forward and wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. Trent hugged you back, his hands gentle against your back, pulling you in like he was afraid to let go.

“I… I don’t even know what to say,” you finally whispered into his shoulder, feeling both overwhelmed and elated. You pulled back, just enough to look up at him. “This is… it’s really thoughtful, T, baby.” He gave a little shrug, downplaying the significance. 

“Think about you a lot. I wish I could show you better. This is one way I guess.  And I just thought you’d look better in one mine, yeah?” His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed him. You could see the warmth, the intent behind this small collection of gifts. Grinning, you took the jersey holding it up between you. 

“So… I’m supposed to just wear this and be yours, huh?” You said with a smirk. His grin turned into a smirk. 

“That’s the idea,” he said, stepping in close, his hands finding your waist. “But only if you’re up for it.” You felt your cheeks heat up, but you didn’t break his gaze. His fingers began to play with the hem of the shirt you currently had on. You didn’t expect your heart to stutter the way it did seeing him today. You looked down, biting your lip, feeling almost shy under his gaze. 

“And you’re sure?” you murmured, looking back up at him. He reached up, cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, letting his fingers linger just a little longer against your skin. 

“I’ve known you too long not to be.” His voice was low, and there was a sincerity there that felt like a balm to every worry you’d been carrying. Without another word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, soft but intentional, letting yourself believe him. Trent’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, like he was anchoring himself to you. The kiss deepened, and you both sank into it, unhurried, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.  You finally pulled back from the kiss to really look at the jersey still in your hands. It wasn’t from a store it was very clearly one of his. He even had drawn a little heart, in only a way a boy would, but nevertheless cute, on the bottom of the white embossed  #66. The whole thing was incredibly sweet. 

“Guess I know what I’m wearing to the next match I go to. Someone just has to invite me.” You said with a teasing smile.

“You’re always invited but yeah, you better be wearing that,” he chuckled, his eyes shining. “I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna look perfect on you as well.” And with that, you felt some of your doubts fade, replaced by the excitement of whatever was waiting ahead and right now what was waiting was  thick sexual tension creeping in. As you held the soft fabric of the jersey, Trent's eyes sparkled with mischief. He stepped back into you once more, his muscular body radiating heat, planting a soft kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His warm breath fanning your sensitive skin as he gently nibbled, leaving a trail of tingling sensations. Swiftly a moment that was meant to be sentimental, suddenly began to steam up. 

"Do you want me to try it on for you, baby?" you suggested, your voice a little hoarse with desire. Trent hummed in response, his lips still brushing against your skin as his fingers idley returned to play with the hem of your shirt. With a swift motion, he lifted the shirt you were already wearing over your head entirely exposing your bare torso, no bra. Your breath caught at the sudden rush of cool air on your heated skin. Trent's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your full tits, your nipples already hardening in anticipation.

"You look so fucking gorgeous all the fucking time, baby" he growled, his voice thick with want. His hands glided over your shoulders, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and then slid down to cup your tits. He thumbed your nipples, rolling and pinching gently, making you gasp and arch into his touch.

"I need you, T… now," you murmured before his lips found yours in a searing kiss. The kiss was hungry, demanding, and filled with passion. Different than before. Trent's tongue danced with yours, exploring and claiming, while his hands roamed freely over your body, mapping every curve and valley. He kneaded your boobs, squeezing and lifting them, making you moan into his mouth. You clung to him, running your fingers over his curls, pulling him closer as if you could merge your bodies into one. His erection pressing against your lower belly, a hard ridge that promised pleasure and satisfaction you’d come to know well but couldn’t get enough of. His hands moved to slide around you down to your ass, over it and then under. Breaking the kiss, Trent lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you upstairs, making sure to grab both of your tops in his hand, sparing any damning evidence. His strong arms never faltering as you giggled breathlessly nibbling on his ear lobe whispering the naughtiest things in his ear despite feeling like an innocent princess in his hold. And then like a shot gun signaling a start, your bedroom door clicked shut behind you. 

Trent laid you down on your soft sheets, his eyes never leaving yours. In a blur of passion, you found yourself on your bed, both of your clothes completely vanished now, your legs wrapped around Trent's strong waist again. He hovered above you, his body a delicious weight pressing you into the mattress. You could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against you. His eyes, dark and intense, holding yours captive, and you knew in that moment it truly felt like you were his. The dominant glint in his eyes sent a thrill through your body, making you ache to surrender completely.

“Tell me what you want.” He cooed almost tauntingly.  Trent's voice was a low rumble, filled with desire and possession as he whispered above you leaning in to begin leaving kisses from behind your ear down your jaw. You didn’t answer you just nodded eagerly, giving him permission, your eyes pleading for him to take control. And he did. He pressed his lips to yours as his fingers trailed down your body, tracing your curves, before slipping between your thighs and  through your pussy’s wet folds.  “Such a messy girl. You're so always so fucking wet for me, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. You were already soaked, your arousal glistening on your sensitive folds. Trent's touch was like a lightning bolt, igniting a fire within you. “Tell me what you want.” He demanded again and it started a fire in you, igniting something carnal. You whined and when he teased his fingers around your clit. 

"You, T, fuck… I want you," you whimpered as he stroked your clit, his touch feather-light but intensely pleasurable. His fingers dipped lower, finding your entrance and pushing inside, filling you with a delicious stretch. You gasped as you felt him slip two fingers all the way inside of you with a curl. He smirked watching your face scrunch up from the intrusion. You arched off your bed, seeking more, your hips moving in rhythm with his fingers. "Please, baby" you begged, your voice breathy and desperate. "I need you inside me. I want your cock, T." He grinned down at you, his eyes alight with possessiveness.  “I want you to be rough, T.” You whined desperate for him to just use you. 

"You want me to be rough with you? You like that don't you, baby?" He mocked in the hottest way. You reached out towards him, dragging your hand down his abs before wrapping your hand around his hard shaft. You pumped his cock with your spit mixed with his leaking precum,l. He pulled his fingers out of you swiftly. His one hand laced his fingers with yours pinning your hands above your head, the other tapping his cock against your clit, dragging it through your fold’s teasingly.  Neither of you had the patience for more foreplay. You needed him inside of you now and he was giving you just that.  His big brown eyes met yours, your breathing getting heavier and heavier. “You’re gonna be a good girl f’me, hmm?” His words send a thrill through you, a heady combination of desire and submission. You nod eagerly, your eyes locked on his.

"Yeah" you whispered. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hands moving to grip your hip firmly. You felt the broad head of his cock nudging at your entrance before he thrusted forward, filling you in one smooth stroke."Oh, God!" you cried out, your body welcoming him with a delicious tightness. Your hands broke out of his and grabbed to hold him. Your nails digging into his back muscles as he slid inside of you. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp. He rocked into you. Trent’s cock stretched you deliciously hitting the spot only he knew immediately. 

“Doing so good f’me, baby. Take my cock so well. You okay?” He asked gently as he flicked his eyes to yours. You nodded with a shy smile as he pulled back out just barely, leaving just the tip in. With a growl, he thrusted into you again, filling you so completely that you gasped once over. His cock, hard and throbbing, stretching you to the limit, and you loved every second of it. The sensation of being so full, so possessed, sent sparks of pleasure through your body. He set a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with deep, powerful strokes. Your bodies creating a sensual rhythm, the squelching sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the room. Trent's jaw clenched, his eyes hooded as he watched his cock disappear into your slick heat.

"You feel so fucking good," you moaned, your breath coming in short gasps. "Feel so deep. Oh my god." You whined. You inhaled a sharp breath feeling a lightheadedness come over as you took him.  He kept his beautiful brown eyes fixed on you. The pupils in his dark eyes dilated as he felt his cock pulse inside you. Every movement was slow, deep, and intentional. His lips curled into a smug smile hearing you whine. You were completely his and he reveled in it. You dragged your ankle down his back muscles. He was so gentle yet harsh at the same time. Trent’s hand slid up your body and wrapped around your neck gently but assertively causing the knot in your core to tighten as you moaned more.   

"Whose pussy is this?" he demanded, his voice hoarse with need. 

"Yours, Trent," you whispered, your voice breathless. "Only yours." He quickened his pace, his hips snapping forward with each thrust, driving into you relentlessly. Your tits, full and heavy, bounced with each movement, the sensitive peaks grazing his chest, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. He let go of your neck and leaned back a little. Trent's hands moving to grip your thighs, holding your legs wide open, exposing you completely to his gaze and touch. 

"God, fuck. You're so fucking wet, baby," he growled, his eyes fixed on the junction where his cock disappeared into your body. "So good f’me." He praised you as you moaned, the explicit words and the sight of him pounding into your body pushing you closer to the edge. Your hands moved off him to clutch at the sheets, your knuckles turning white as you tried to anchor yourself against the force of his thrusts. The room continued to be filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your desperate moans, and Trent's dirty words. Trent could feel your pussy clenching tighter, he knew you were close. 

"Tell me, baby, whose cock are you gonna cum on right now?" Trent's voice was rough but smug, his face a mask of pure desire and self satisfaction.

"Yours, T," you panted, your voice thick with pleasure. “I want to cum on your cock." Your eyes rolling back as you felt the climax building. "I'll only ever cum on your cock, T." Your words seemed to unleash something primal within him. His eyes lit with possession. His hips pistoned faster, his cock pounding into your sensitive flesh. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust, his cock feeling harder inside of you, and the knowledge that he was close to his own release sent you spiraling towards your climax. The words you’d just said had tumbled out. And to be honest, you kind of hoped your commitment was true. You only ever wanted his dick… it was that good. You wrapped your legs stayed around his waist, drawing him even deeper, your hands moving to clutch at his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks on his tanned skin. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue invading, possessing. His hips never stoping their relentless motion, driving you closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

"That's right, you're my good girl. Only cum f’me. Only gonna ever wear my jersey too, yeah?" he grunted the question, his eyes never leaving yours. You nodded as the coil in your stomach tightened. Orgasmic bliss barrelling towards you."Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you love my cock." His words were like a match to the kindling of your desire. His words pushed you over the precipice. Your body tensed every nerve ending singing as you soared into your climax. Trent's fingers dug into your hips, holding you firmly in place as he fucked you into your climax, his own release building. And then in a split second just when the outside world couldn’t have seemed further away you heard the tracks of the garage door begin to open.

 "T!" you cried out, your voice high and desperate. The distant rumble of Jack returning home made your heart stop but you couldn’t stop your body’s orgasmic convulsions though. Your climax exploded through your body, rippling waves of pleasure that caused your back to arch and your pussy to clamp down on Trent’s cock. You cried out, your voice a mix of pleasure and surprise and panic, as your release washed over you, the waves of pleasure so intense they left you trembling. Trent's name was a mantra on your lips you were trying to bite back as you rode the waves of ecstasy but it was all mixed with genuine fear. “T… T.. fuck!” You yelped,  your hands moving to press against his chest to push him off. He didn’t hear the garage, he was locked in. You knew he was about to cum. “Trent!” You yelped just as his body tensed above you. His eyes squeezed shut, and he let out a guttural grunt, his hips making one final, powerful thrust as he filled you with his release. “Jack! Trent!” You told him. Trent had never had a more conflicting climax in his life. Panic, euphoria, and disgust hearing his mates name while he finished all at once. Trent's eyes widened, and he froze, his cock still buried deep within you. His release leaking inside you. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, a frantic rhythm that matched your own. The sensation of his hot cum inside you sent you over the edge again, a second orgasm washing over you, leaving you boneless and sated, Trent fighting back a groan as you tightened around him once more. Panting, your bodies glistening with sweat, you clung to each other, hearts racing but you needed to move. Now. The sudden realization that you were both naked and exposed snapped you back to the present. Anxiety flared in your chest as you scrambled to get Trent off you and find your clothes, your heart pounding. This was it. Jack was going to find out. 

"Shit," Trent cursed, quickly reaching for his boxers. "Your brother... we need to get downstairs." He instructed you. The urgency in his voice mirrored your own racing thoughts. You frantically searched for your clothes, scattered across the room. In a mad dash, you pulled on your panties and scrambled to find everything, while Trent hastily pulled on his trousers. The heat of the moment had turned into a frantic race against time. The sound of Jack’s arrival sent you both into a scramble, grabbing at clothes, fumbling with buttons, zipper, shirts pulled over heads, doing whatever you could to look convincingly casual. 

“Fuck, fuck!” you yelled in a whisper,  heart pounding as you clutched the sides of your shirt, tugging it over your head, trying to compose yourself. You shot Trent a panicked look.  Tears forming on your lash line. 

“Baby… Baby… we’ll be okay. You’re okay. C’mon.” He kissed your forehead before helping adjust your top. The slam of the door into the house had sent you and Trent into an even more panicked frenzy as you scrambled to not look like you just fucked. 

“My car,” Trent hissed almost to himself, eyes wide, realizing that leaving his car in the driveway was like leaving a neon sign that he was there.

“He’s going to see it…” You glanced at him, panicked. There was no hiding now. With your pulse racing, you tried to look as normal as possible, grabbing the closest thing you could find to play off a casual visit—a charger tangled near your bed. The two of you locked eyes, a silent agreement that this was your cover story.  You nodded back before you ran down the stairs just as Jack came through the other side of the house. Thank god the staircase up to your room was at the opposite end. You could hear Jack’s footsteps making his way towards you two as you made it downstairs. When he saw you and Trent his eyebrows raised, but he was relaxed enough. 

“Aye, mate, what’s up?” he asked, looking from Trent to you and back again. Jack looked at Trent with a faintly furrowed brow. Trent plastered on a relaxed smile, putting on his most casual tone.

“Yeah, good bro. Sorry, ah…left my phone charger here last time,” he replied smoothly, nodding toward the one you were now holding out like a lifeline. You forced a smile, trying to seem casual. Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a second, his expression skeptical. 

“So…” Jack’s tone held a playful curiosity. “You knew I wasn’t home?” Trent shrugged. 

“Yeah, bro, only a charger so I didn’t want to nag you about it,” he said, as you casually waving the charger like it was some grand prize he’d finally retrieve. “Y/N was just letting me grab it real quick.” You handed Trent the charger, feeling Jack’s gaze on both of you. Trent took it with a casual ‘Thanks,’ stuffing it into his pocket as if it had been his all along. You were mildly annoyed you were losing a charger but that was the least of your worries “Just thought I’d pop in, grab it, and head out.” Jack stared for a moment longer, lips curving into a smirk as he finally dropped his gaze. 

“Right… sound.” he chuckled.  Trent laughed, playing along, and you couldn’t help but join in, trying to mask your own nerves. Jack looked between you both, there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite read but it was more confusion at the energy in the room than a hint of suspicion. But he just laughed, shrugging it off as Trent left. Trent still managed to give you a tiny, playful wink before slipping out, leaving your mind reeling.

“He’s so weird.” Jack teased you, still watching Trent get in his car. “Man makes millions and he’s pressed about a charger.” You let out a small, nervous laugh, hoping to play it cool. You felt Jack’s arm wrap around your shoulder in a lighthearted squeeze, and he shot you a teasing grin.

“Nah, he’s just… Trent… mindful, maybe?” you managed, trying to fill the silence and maybe convince both Jack and yourself. Jack smirked, shaking his head. Your heart was still racing but at least Trent had remained calm. 

“Yeah, well, you were probably just gassed you got his attention alone for five minutes.” He laughed, punching at your arm as he passed you. You forced yourself to chuckle, hoping the nervous energy vibrating through you wasn’t as obvious as it felt. Jack’s teasing had hit closer to home than he knew, and as you watched Trent’s car pull away from the driveway, you felt a mix of thrill and relief. The cover story might’ve worked, but the spark between you two? That was only getting harder to hide.

“Oh, please,” you replied, rolling your eyes, trying to sound nonchalant as you looked down, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You laughed, a little too loudly, hoping it came off as amused and not as a frantic release of tension.  Jack gave a little shrug, seemingly satisfied. 

“Just saying, you love Trenty.” He laughed teasingly but you didn’t. Not this time. “Y/N… I’m kidding. I know he’s your mate too. Relax. He came for a charger, innit. I’m joking. Sorry.” He looked at you apologetically, mildly confused why a tease about you have a crush on Trent hit so differently than before. He always poked fun but your vibe felt weird. He opted to just  let it roll off his back, moving on and turned, remaining oblivious as he headed to the kitchen. Meanwhile you were left with a stomach full of butterflies, lined with guilt  and a heart still pounding from the close call. Watching Trent drive away, you felt an undeniable thrill mixed with something deeper, something that had you feeling torn between excitement and culpability. The cover story had worked for now, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that keeping this secret would only get harder with time.

Sneaking around with Trent had quickly transformed into something more, something you felt deep in your bones. The thrill was undeniable, yet the way you kept finding yourself drawn back to him made it feel like it wasn't just about the thrill anymore. After Jack almost catching you, it just felt like you both actually thought what you were doing might’ve been worth it. Tonight felt like a step closer to something real, though the secrecy only intensified it. You'd told Jack you'd be staying over at Layla's, a lie that sat heavy, but the promise of a night with Trent made it worth it. When you arrived at his place, Trent's smile greeted you at the door, warm and familiar, and immediately, you felt all that tension melt away. He led you out to the back garden, where he had set up a cozy space just for the two of you. Blankets were draped over the outdoor couch on the patio, and the fire pit cast a gentle, golden glow. Jazz murmured softly from a speaker, blending perfectly with the low hum of the night, creating a sense of comfort that felt more intimate than you'd expected. The whole setup seemed to say: I wanted this to feel special. You nestled into the couch beside him, sharing the same blanket as the fire flickered, warming your faces. Trent leaned back, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, the other hand resting on your knee, and you felt yourself relaxing against him as if this was exactly where you belonged.

Although, it wasn't long though before he suggested a game of cards, his competitive spirit sparking in his eyes. You moved to sit cross-legged on the couch, turning to face him as you dealt the cards. Trent sat back, legs spread, confidence written across his face. But as the game went on and the tide turned in your favor, his expression shifted. He huffed when you won a hand, mumbling something about beginner's luck, but you could tell he was getting flustered. When you won again, his pout turned into a grin full of mischief.

"Nah, not having this. C'mon, there's no way you're this lucky," he teased, snatching the cards from your hand before pulling you into his lap, his hands snaking around your waist.

"Maybe I'm just better at it than you," you quipped, knowing it would get under his skin. He narrowed his eyes, pretending to look insulted but deep down you knew he hated hearing it, joke or not.

"Oh, so that's how it is, huh?" he murmured before leaning in, his teeth grazing your neck in a playful nibble, a cross between a kiss and bite as his hands gripped you tighter. You squirmed, laughing, trying to wriggle free, but he was stronger than you and wouldn't let you go.

"Just admit I won," you teased, breathless from laughing, glancing up at him with a triumphant smile.

"Not a chance," he whispered, voice low as his face hovered inches from yours, his eyes full of that look that made your pulse race. "The game's postponed. We'll settle it later." He said deciding he just wanted to be with you for the moment, no games. He let his hold on you loosen, and you rolled your eyes with a grin. 

"Whatever you want, baby." You murmured, your voice warm and teasing. He stilled, his gaze softening as he took you in, as if hearing you calling him ‘baby’ for the first time. Colloquially. The look in his eyes made your stomach flip, a moment of quiet that felt far more intimate than any kiss or touch. With a hum of satisfaction, he pulled you in closer, one hand tracing down your back.

"I like the sound of that." His fingers gently pressed into your skin, grounding you in that moment, and his other hand reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You stayed wrapped up together, letting the night carry you in the warmth of each other's presence. Hours passed without notice, the jazz lulling softly in the background as you nestled closer, feeling his hand rest securely around you. His touch was soft, comforting, as if to say he wasn't in any rush to let go. The stars were bright overhead, and the crackling flames cast shadows over his face. Trent looked at you with a rare openness, a softness that made your chest ache in the best way. He pressed a kiss to your hair, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on you. You rested your head against his shoulder, your legs curled over his lap, feeling the strength of his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. Every so often, he'd lean down, brushing his lips against your temple or whispering something sweet that made your heart stutter. It felt like you were existing in your own little world, a pocket of warmth and comfort that was just for the two of you. The night stretched on, but neither of you felt any rush to move or break the spell. This wasn't just a thrill, or a secret-you could feel the weight of something genuine growing between you, something you were both beginning to understand couldn't be hidden forever.

Settling into Trent’s bed that night felt surreal—soft sheets, plush pillows, and the faint scent of him in the air made it feel luxurious, almost like a dream. Yet, there was that small tug of something missing, a sense of feeling a bit out of place amidst the perfection. You liked your routine, your things, that’s all. This was well,  it was his bed, his room, his world. You didn’t quite realize how it showed until Trent, lying beside you with a gentle smile, noticed it.

“I can tell you’re uncomfortable. What’s up?” he asked, his gaze soft but curious. You shook your head with a half-hearted laugh, trying to dismiss it. 

“I’m not uncomfortable… I just…” you trailed off, unable to find the words. But he shook his head, unconvinced. 

“Nah, baby, c’mon,” he coaxed, “alright. Tell me what you usually do before bed.” He rolled over and looked at you with a smile. At that, you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Okay, so,” you started, tucking your hair behind your ear as you settled into explaining shuffling in the sheets.. “First thing’s first: I have to take off all my makeup. But that means using an oil cleanser first because it breaks everything down— mascara, everything. Then I use a second cleanser to really clean my skin. It’s called double cleansing.” You giggled as Trent nodded with a raised eyebrow, trying not to smile. 

“Double cleansing?” he echoed. “More than once seems like….” You widened your eyes silently asking to finish and continued on. 

“Trust me, it makes a difference because some of us don’t just wake up moisturize and go.” You teased and he rolled his eyes swiping his thumb over his cheekbone as if to show off his perfect skin. “But then I have to pat my face dry with specific towels or like disposable ones, you know? Like I can’t just be rubbing whatever to dry.” He leaned back, clearly amused but listening intently. You were pretty sure he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. 

“Okay, what’s next?” he asked, a playful grin on his face.

“Then it’s skincare time,” you declared. “I use a toner first.” Trent nodded but you knew he probably didn’t know what that meant. “After that, I have a few serums. Then… ” You cooed but Trent interjected. 

“A few!?” Trent’s eyes widened slightly. It was becoming evidently more and more clear he did not have a sister. A part of you laughed that you never realized how deep that fact ran and then a part of you felt a bit relieved this was the first time he seemed to be hearing this. The idea that any girl that had come before you had yet to explain this to him. 

“Yeah then we move to like eye creams, moisturizers next,” you explained and continued to rattle on with more. He looked impressed and bewildered at the same time. 

“That’s… a lot,” he said, but there was a note of affection in his voice that made you smile.

“And we’re not even done!” you pointed out. “After the skincare, I do my hair care. Apply some products for hydration. Oh and silk pillowcases are a must for both skin and hair. They’re gentler and prevent breakage.” Trent’s eyes sparkled with humor, but he nodded as if taking mental notes. 

“Alright, so we’ve got skin and hair. Anything else?” He smirked almost assuming you were done. 

“Obviously,” you said, feigning indignation. “Then I have to set up my room. I spray a lavender sleep mist onto my bed to help me relax, and I take my nighttime supplements—magnesium, a sleep aid if I need it, maybe some collagen.” You explained.

“Supplements too?” he repeated, clearly finding all of this fascinating. He had routines but it was more for optimizing performance and in a way you were doing just the same.

“Yep. And then I need like wattterrrs,” you explained dragging out the word, feeling more animated as you talked. “And sometimes, if I’m feeling really stressed, I’ll do a short guided meditation before bed. Just five to ten minutes to clear my mind.” Trent was leaning forward now, his chin resting in his hands grinning ear to ear. Trent started laughing, eyes wide with disbelief. 

“That’s like 15 steps, baby!” he exclaimed, shaking his head as if you’d told him the most extravagant bedtime routine on earth and maybe you had in his mind. You laughed along, shrugging. 

“Hey, you asked! Besides, don’t pretend you’re not just as high maintenance with all your Byredo lotions over there.” You smirked, nodding toward the sleek row of bottles lined on the counter in the ensuite. He rolled his eyes, giving a mock scoff. 

“Alright, alright… but that’s… that’s quite the process,” he said, his voice laced with teasing affection. “You really do all that every night?” You crossed your arms, pretending to be offended. 

“I mean I try to every single night! It’s called self-care, T. There’s more out there than just what the club tells you to do. You should try my routine sometime.”  You giggled teasing him. You knew he took really good care of himself but when it came to beauty he was more relaxed. He laughed, the sound filling the room.

“I don’t think I could handle all of that.” He smirked.  You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest at the compliment. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Even if he didn’t fully understand each step, he was there, listening and appreciating the lengths you went to for your own well-being. And that made you feel seen in a way that was hard to explain. Still smiling, he grabbed his phone, opening his notes app. “Okay, baby… give me the names and brands. Everything you need for sleeping here.” Your heart fluttered at the gesture, so thoughtful and unexpected. You began listing each product, and he typed them with an almost serious focus, nodding as if he were taking notes on a game plan; Slip pillow cases, Tata Harper cleansers, Maison Francis mists, a 14th Night Hair Elixir. 

“You don’t actually have to do all this,” you murmured, feeling almost shy. But his hand found yours, and he squeezed it gently.

“I want you to feel comfortable here,” he said softly, looking at you with that easy, open sincerity. “Besides, if it’s gonna make you sleep better, then it’s worth it. Keeps you in my bed.” He cheekily cooed. The thoughtfulness left you feeling a mix of warmth and gratitude, a sense of belonging that surprised you. And as much as you adored the idea of your favorite products sitting in his bathroom, what you loved even more was this—him, making space for you in his world, in his home. It also felt nice to know it’d be like a warning should any other girl be over. This was your marking your territory.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shifting closer to him, a smile playing on your lips. “Honestly, though… all I really need to feel at home is you.” He smiled, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you. 

“You’ve always felt like home to me.” He whispered back to you. Both of your admissions honest. The room was calm, the dim light casting soft shadows, and Trent’s fingers lazily traced patterns along your arm as you both settled into the cozy rhythm of conversation. The hum of street lights outside mixed with the soft rustling of sheets, making the entire moment feel even more intimate. Even after Trent finished noting down your list, he looked over with a smirk, still visibly amused by the whole process.  “So, am I missing anything? Or do we need to add a couple more things for this routine?”

“Oh, don’t even start,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge. “You wouldn’t understand—it’s just habitual; it’s so I can look pretty.” You batted your eyes at him. He laughed, tipping his head back, the sound warm and rich. 

“Well… you always look beautiful. Don’t think you need all this but, consider me converted if it makes you happy,” he said, miming a solemn vow. “But seriously, I’ll get it, alright? It’s not just about making you feel at home—it’s about you being at home here, whenever you want.” The sincerity in his words made your cheeks warm. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would feel like for this to be your regular night: no need to pack an overnight bag, no sneaking in and out, just… this, every night. You snuggled deeper into his embrace, the weight of his arm draped protectively around you making everything feel somehow complete. He noticed the pensive look on your face and tilted his head, studying you. “What’re you thinking about?”

“It’s just… weird, you know? I didn’t expect it to feel this comfortable here.” You hesitated, then smiled softly. “I thought it would feel… wrong.” He ran his hand gently up and down your back, pulling you even closer. It was wrong. It was wrong what you were doing to Jack, but this? This felt very right. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But I also knew it’d be good. You and I have always been good. I want it to feel easy. Want you to feel like you don’t have to hide anything when we’re here or feel out of place here.” His voice was low, soothing, and he spoke as if he were letting you in on some quiet, long-held secret. He reached over, smoothing a strand of hair away from your face, fingers lingering as he looked into your eyes with that calm, unwavering gaze of his. “I know we’re figuring things out, and it might be complicated but it doesn’t have to be here. We’re good here,” he said softly, his hand resting gently on your cheek. You leaned into his touch, heart beating a little faster. 

“You really mean that?” you whispered, almost afraid of his answer.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice steady. “I think we’re pretty damn good together.” He smirked. For a moment, the silence between you was filled with unspoken words, a warmth passing between you that felt equal parts thrilling and comforting. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and smiled, nestling closer to him.

“Okay,” you murmured, settling fully into the pillow beside him, letting his steady breathing and the soft glow of his gaze ground you. The weight of his arm around you felt like an anchor, keeping you steady even as your mind whirled with thoughts of what this meant, of what you meant to him. He pulled you even closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“So… really, pretty girl, any final steps in this ritual of yours? Any last ones?” he teased, breaking the quiet moment with a playful glint in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, laughing. 

“Alright, alright, since you’re so curious… And I’m generous, I guess I could share the one I never even leave home without.” You reached over, awkwardly leaning to grab your lip balm you’d already moved to the nightstand earlier to have on hand. It was a lip balm you brought with you everywhere, so tonight was no different. It was a rich Hermes lip balm. Nothing made your lips feel more well-hydrated, supple or better than this. You applied a layer to your own lips before leaning in, catching him with a soft kiss that tasted faintly of beeswax.

“There, now you’re officially a part of my routine,” you said, grinning. He shook his head, still chuckling, his fingers tracing along your jaw as he pulled you in for another kiss. 

“If this is how the routine ends, I’m in.” And in that moment, with the warmth of his arms around you, the soft glow of the lights outside, and the quiet thrill of realizing just how natural this all felt, you let yourself settle fully into the moment. Trent leaned over you and grabbed the sleek tube again. “You think the lads would take the mick if I rolled around using Hermes lip balm? Because this actually feels so good.” He asked you earnestly. You smirked knowing the answer would likely be yes but you just hummed. 

“Does it? Or was it my kiss?” You teased. “Nah, you could use it though. If you’d want you can take this one. I’ll get another one.” You cooed, pressing your lips to his again. Trent nodded agreeing. And he did. You let him take it the next day. But that night you fell to sleep happy, lips moisturized, and all the worries and doubts fading into the background, leaving just you and him, here together, finding home in each other.

As you bounded down the stairs, practically buzzing with excitement, you were already mentally at Trent’s, imagining the quiet moments you’d get to have again, just the two of you for another night. You’d been doing this a lot. Hiding it all from everyone but reveling in the time tucked together. Your heart raced as you went through the plan in your head—another night wrapped up in his arms, laughing, teasing, letting everything else fall away. But Jack’s voice cut through your daydreams, grounding you in an instant.

“Hey, you headed out? Who’s the lucky lad now?” he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes studying you closely. Your heart skipped, a blend of panic and guilt washing over you. You were sure he’d started to suspect something, especially with all the time you’d been spending away. Swallowing hard, you tried for a casual response. You didn’t think he’d even be considering Trent, but it was clear you were spending a lot of time ‘out’ with someone. No matter, lying to Jack… Jack, your big brother, your best friend; though you’d never tell Layla that, it all felt so wrong. 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to jinx it, you know? Not yet,” you said with a soft smile, hoping he’d leave it at that. But Jack wasn’t one to let things slide easily. He just hummed, giving you a long, knowing look. Then, with a gentleness that caught you off guard, he spoke again. 

“Hey…” he started, and you could hear the tenderness in his voice. “I’ve never seen you like this before.” He sympathetically smiled. 

“What do you mean?” You looked up at him, surprised

“I mean, there’s a light in you that I haven’t seen in a while. It’s good to see it again.” His eyes softened, a mix of pride and love filling his gaze. “I don’t know what this lad’s doing, but whatever it is, it’s bringing out the best in you. Look happier. Healthier.” A rush of emotion swelled in your chest, catching you off guard. The tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them, and you looked away, trying to compose yourself. Jack noticed, stepping forward and wrapping you in one of those big, protective hugs he was so good at. You felt the familiar strength of his arms around you, his hand gently rubbing your back as he held you close. “I just want you happy,” he murmured into your hair, and the raw honesty in his voice almost broke you. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I told Mum and Dad I’d look out for you, you know?” His voice was low, laced with the memories and promises you both had carried for years. You felt horrible. You were lying. Why were you lying? “I know I can be a pain sometimes, but… I don’t want you being with anyone that treats you like…” Jack tried to say it but he couldn’t. Jack was protective, loving but as communicative and close as you two were he just couldn’t stomach the idea of men treating you poorly so he couldn’t get the words out. “You deserve to be loved, to feel safe, that’s all.” Jack was the only place you felt safe since your mum passed. Your dad closed off and Jack stepped up. You shut your eyes, feeling the warmth of his embrace seep into you. There were times when a hug from Jack felt like it held everything you missed, everything you longed for—comfort, security, family. It was a rare, grounding feeling, and one that made you ache with a strange blend of gratitude and sadness. Pulling back just enough to look at you, Jack brushed his hand over your cheek, a soft smile on his lips. “Maybe we go to Sefton Park sometime soon?” he suggested. “Just us, like old times. Feels like we’re missing each other lately. Never see you.” He smiled softly and it made your heart ache. The weight of his words settled in your chest, and you managed a nod, blinking back the tears that had filled your eyes. You felt his arm tighten around you for a second, and he chuckled softly. “And… maybe one day you can introduce me to this fella. He seems alright, if he’s making you this happy.” His words hit harder than you expected, the guilt flaring up in your chest as you forced a smile. 

“Yeah… maybe.” You sheepishly told him feeling nauseous at the idea that Jack knew this ‘fella’ better than he probably ever wanted to.  Jack gave you a gentle squeeze, reaching to teasingly pull on the ends of your hair like he used to when you were kids. 

“Alright, go on then. Don’t keep him waiting. Don’t fuck it up now.” He winked, letting you go, but the warmth in his eyes stayed with you. As you walked to the door, your heart hurt, the weight of your secret feeling heavier with each step. The excitement of seeing Trent was still there, humming in the back of your mind, but Jack’s words lingered. You felt torn, a part of you wanting to spill everything to your brother, to let him see the whole truth. But as you got outside, you forced yourself to push it all away. For now, you just wanted to hold onto the happiness Jack had seen in you. You wanted to be with Trent, to laugh, to feel that lightness and warmth without the shadow of guilt hanging over you. And even if it was only for a night, you let yourself believe that was enough.

When morning rolled in, you were tucked into the sheets, the soft weight of the comforter keeping you warm as you dozed off, half-conscious of Trent beside you. The light filtered in through the blinds, illuminating the room in a golden haze, and you felt a deep contentment, drifting in that hazy, relaxed state between sleep and wakefulness. But then you felt the bed shift as Trent sat up more. You looked around Trent’s room, feeling oddly out of place though, despite how many times you had now woken up tangled in his sheets, wrapped up in the ease and warmth he offered. Today, though, it felt different. Your lies seeping in the warmth.  The room, with its familiar scent of him, his things strewn about casually, almost felt like a stage where you were playing a part you couldn’t reveal. It was strange, bittersweet, this cozy little world of yours that felt so real here but that would eventually dissolve the moment you stepped back into your life with Jack.

“Hi, baby,” you murmured, blinking up at him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face trying to be present and not get lost in your thoughts. You scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and nestling into him. He gave a soft chuckle, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Hi, pretty girl.” He leaned down, kissing the top of your head. “Hey, I need you to stay in bed for me for a bit, yeah?” he said, his tone gentle but somehow cautious. You raised an eyebrow, pulling back to look at him more closely, half-expecting it to be some cheeky invitation. 

“Stay in bed?” you teased, smiling as you placed a playful kiss on his chest. But then he spoke again, and you caught the slight edge in his voice.

“Yeah, erm… Jack’s popping over,” he said, watching you carefully. It was like a cold wave washed over you, jolting you fully awake. You immediately pushed yourself up, heart racing. 

“Wait—what?” You scrambled, trying to pull yourself together, suddenly very aware that you were in Trent’s bed, in his house, wearing only his shirt. Trent had forgotten Jack was swinging by today until he got the text moments ago reminding him. He had promised he’d donate a pair of signed boots or something for Jack’s company to auction off for charity and today… he was coming to pick them up. 

“I forgot. Honest. It’ll be alright though.” He tried to tell you. This could not keep happening. You couldn’t tell which situation was worse. Jack finding out the other day - Trent was fucking you at your house, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to be there… Or Jack finding out now - You weren’t having sex as he came over but there was zero reason for you to be at Trent’s this early. There would be no excuse. You couldn’t keep lying to Jack this was eating you up. One mildly redeeming thought popped into your head – thankfully, your car was in Trent’s garage out of sight. It was tucked away though because Trent told you, you needed to take better care of it and can’t just leave it out all the time but still your anxiety was spiking.  

“T, then I have to leave!” you hissed, frantically looking around for how you could possibly grab all your things in time. You could already feel the guilt bubbling up inside, imagining Jack’s reaction if he walked in and found you here. But Trent just reached out, gently tugging you back, his arms wrapping around you, grounding you.

“Hey, hey. Relax, yeah? Just stay here. He’s not coming up into my bed,” he murmured, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be five minutes. He’s just coming by to pick something up. Quick, in and out. We’ll be okay.”  You looked up at him, worried, still tense. 

“Trent…” you began, but he only gave you a soft, reassuring smile, his eyes full of that easy confidence he always seemed to carry.

“Please. Just stay here. It’ll be okay,” he murmured, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that you could never say no to. You sighed, settling back into his embrace, heart still hammering as you heard Jack’s car pull up outside. To be fair, it made more sense for you to hide but it felt even more shameful to do. Part of you wanted to pull the covers over your head, to hide and pretend this wasn’t happening. Instead, you sat tensely in bed, listening as Trent slipped downstairs, his voice echoing faintly as he greeted Jack. You could hear their friendly banter, and it twisted your stomach with guilt. You knew it was wrong to keep this from Jack, but the thought of losing these moments with Trent was just as hard. 

You sat there, still, hands nervously fidgeting as you heard their voices drifting up from downstairs. Jack’s laughter mixed with Trent’s lighter chuckle, and it churned something inside you—a pang of guilt mixed with a longing for this to be simpler, to be something you could share without worry. But for now, the thrill of sneaking around was overshadowed by the weight of keeping this secret from Jack, from the one person who’d seen you through everything, helped you through everything. But still, hearing Jack’s voice below reminded you of the stakes, of how much you valued him, his trust, and how deeply you felt the need to protect this secret with Trent—even if it meant bending the truth. You picked at the hem of Trent’s shirt, which felt soft and familiar against your skin. There was something comforting in wearing a part of him, yet it also made everything feel painfully real. This wasn’t just some fling. You knew it every time you looked into Trent’s eyes, every time he pulled you into his arms like he didn’t want to let go. And then you heard the front door close,  there was silence for a little while until footsteps came up the stairs breaking it. You held your breath, half-wishing you could vanish into the walls. When Trent finally walked back in, you met his gaze, searching his face for some reassurance that you weren’t just imagining this, that he understood the complicated feelings swirling inside you. When Trent came back into the room, you’d moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his shirt still draped over you, your hands fidgeting nervously, his face softening as he noticed the tension in your posture. He gave you a soft smile, walking over and tilting your chin up so you’d meet his eyes.

“Hey. All good, yeah?” he murmured, his voice gentle. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, and you let yourself breathe again, slowly, finding comfort in his touch. You nodded, exhaling as you managed a small smile, letting yourself relax into him. 

“I just… I hate lying to him, Trent. It feels so messed up.” You let out a shaky breath, relief mingling with guilt. Trent knelt down in front of you, his hands finding yours. 

“I know, and I get it,” he said softly, his thumbs tracing slow circles on your skin. “But it’s just us right now. And whatever this is,” he squeezed your hands, “I want it to be ours before it’s anyone else’s. Jack will understand that.” His words settled over you like a warm blanket, grounding you in the certainty you felt with him. The guilt didn’t completely vanish, but his reassurance made it bearable, made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could navigate this without losing what mattered. “You okay?” he asked, his gaze unwavering, full of that soft patience he always seemed to have for you. He came and sat on the bed with you. Keeping a cautious distance not wanting to overwhelm you but a gentle open hand close ready to hold yours if you wanted it.  You sat across from Trent, fingers nervously fidgeting in your lap, your gaze low as you struggled to put words to the feeling that had been building up inside.

 “I just… I feel so guilty, lying to Jack all the time. T, it’s fucked,” you whispered repeating it once over, barely able to meet Trent’s eyes. Trent’s expression softened, and he took your hands in his, his touch grounding. 

“I know,” he murmured, squeezing your hands gently. “I feel it too. But it’s like… I can’t let this go. I can’t let you go. It’s… “ He paused momentarily, grappling with this almost as much as you. “It’s hard to feel like we can have both.” He cooed. You looked up at him, eyes searching his for something, maybe an answer, but all you found was a mirrored sense of conflict. 

“I want this,” you admitted, your voice a little choked. “I want you. But I don’t know how to make it work. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, terrified of falling in either direction.” You sniffled, trying to keep your emotions in check. He let out a quiet sigh, his gaze intense, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he lifted one of your hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to hide us either, but I also don’t want to put you in the middle.” The two of you sat there, wrapped in a silence that felt heavy, a quiet admission of the fears you shared but couldn’t quite voice. You could feel the ache in your chest intensify, a lump rising in your throat as the weight of it pressed on you. You blinked, feeling a tear slip free despite your attempts to keep it together. Trent’s gaze softened immediately. “Hey, baby” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush the tear from your cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles on your skin. “Talk to me. I know this is a lot.” You tried to smile, to reassure him, but it faltered, and instead, more tears followed, spilling over as you let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling raw, exposed. “It’s just… Jack’s all I have. And I’m terrified that by being with you, by hiding this from him, I’m going to somehow lose both of you.” Your voice broke, and you quickly wiped at your cheeks, embarrassed by your own vulnerability. Trent’s expression shifted, a deep sympathy filling his eyes as he moved closer, pulling you into his arms. He wrapped you up tightly, holding you like he could somehow protect you from all the things that felt like they were slipping away.

“You could never lose me,” he whispered, his voice steady, almost as if he was willing it to be true, willing it to ease the fear in your heart. You leaned into him, feeling his arms around you, his steady presence a balm to the ache that had been building. But the silence that followed his words weighed heavily, filled with all the things neither of you could find a way to say. You let out a shaky breath, burying your face in his shoulder, feeling both comforted and conflicted in his embrace. After a moment, Trent pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re all I think about,” he said softly, a tenderness in his gaze that made your heart ache in a different way. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose, and I don’t want you to feel alone in this.” You nodded, but the weight of the situation lingered. A part of you wanted so badly to believe that his reassurance was enough, that you wouldn’t have to choose, that you could keep this connection with Trent without losing your relationship with Jack. But doubt gnawed at you, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were balancing on a thin line, one misstep away from losing it all. As if sensing your inner turmoil, Trent tilted your chin up, his gaze steady as he looked at you. “You’ll never lose me, no matter what happens” he repeated softly, his words a gentle promise. But something about the quiet that followed felt almost uncertain, as if he, too, knew how fragile everything was. Neither of you knew what would come next, and as he held you, the silence stretched, filled with both comfort and unspoken fears.In that moment, you held on tighter, hoping it would be enough to keep things from unraveling.

“Okay.” You nodded, managing a small smile as you squeezed his hands back. He smiled, his eyes brightening as he pulled you to your feet and into his arms. 

“Always, always, always” he murmured against your hair, between kisses, holding you close as you melted into him. You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in his arms, finding strength in his steady heartbeat, letting yourself believe that somehow, everything would work out. While your brain was spiraling, Trent’s heart hurt just the same. He felt like a scumbag for lying to Jack, for being with you. But he also felt like for the first time he was properly falling for you, getting to know you in a way he’d always longed for.  He couldn’t just throw it all away now, now that  he had a taste. He was putting up a good front though holding you, telling you it was fine. It was hard, but fine, but he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t saying that to himself even more. He wasn’t sure he could stomach a fall out with you or Jack. 

One afternoon after things stayed as they were, Trent casually reached into his pocket, pulling out the sleek little tube of lip balm, twisting it open with the practiced ease of someone who’d clearly used it more than a few times. He applied a quick swipe to his lips, completely unaware of the attention it was drawing. Noah noticed first, his brows raising in surprise before he nudged Jack, nodding subtly toward Trent. Jack caught sight of the lip balm and immediately burst into laughter. 

“Bro…” he said, still chuckling, “pretty sure my sister uses that shit.”

“Yeah? What about it?” Trent glanced over, unbothered. Noah shook his head, grinning. 

“Mate, good thing you’ve got that contract lined up. What’re you doing spending pounds on… what is that? Lipstick? ‘Cause it isn’t Nivia innit?” he teased, exaggerating. Trent rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“First off, it’s a balm. Second, it’s moisturizing, and it’s not shiny or anything, so you lot can calm down.” Noah and Jack exchanged a look, both stifling laughs. 

“Alright, alright, Pretty Boy,” Jack teased, holding up his hands in surrender. 

“Just saying, Y/N buying Hermes chapstick is one thing… You? That’s mad.” Noah laughed. Unphased, Trent shrugged, narrowing his gaze on him.

“You ever see Y/N’s lips looking dry?” He held up the balm, grinning. Noah shook his head.  

“Yeah, but I’m not exactly looking, am I?” Noah chuckled, clearly having fun with it. Trent just shrugged again, refusing to give them the satisfaction of riling him up. 

“Just saying,” he replied smoothly. “You can keep laughing, but I’m the one not walking around with dry lips. Yours could use a little help, mate,” he joked, nodding toward Noah, who chuckled. Jack shook his head, still laughing. 

“Alright, fair play,” Noah shot back, grinning. “But careful, next thing you’ll be raiding her entire collection.” Jack just laughed, shaking his head. 

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’re actually using the same shit as my sister.” Jack said. Trent smirked, tucking the balm back into his pocket with a satisfied look. 

“Gotta keep up, don’t I?” he replied, unbothered. “She knows what she’s doing.” Noah and Jack looked at each other knowingly queuing up a joke. Trent rolled his eyes, already sensing the teasing wouldn’t let up anytime soon. But he leaned back on the couch with a smirk thinking of you and your lips.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 7 xx

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Hello! May I request Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos with an MC who had a crush on Barbatos, but hides it? Not very well, like you could tell they like him but they want to stay civil just in case Barbatos doesn’t like them back, that kind of thing.

If not that’s completely fine! Thank you!

Hello! Here is your request. I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: Lucifer's, Diavolo's and Barbatos' reactions to MC having a crush on Barbatos

Contains: Fluff

GN! reader

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

The fantastic tree Vs MC's attraction to butlers

You tried to be composed. Tried was the keyword, but your cheeks warmed whenever Barbatos looked your way, and your pulse sped up when he came close. The others noticed these tell-tale signs, though you hoped you were subtle. The situation could be… a bit embarrassing, after all. What if Barbatos didn’t feel the same way?

Lucifer:

Lucifer wasn’t blind. He had noticed how your gaze lingered a little too long on Barbatos or the way you’d fluster slightly when the butler was around. In classic Lucifer style, he remained outwardly neutral, but deep down, he found it rather amusing. In his mind, he didn’t doubt that Barbatos was aware of it, too. After all, nothing escaped Barbatos's attention.

One day, Lucifer decided to tease you a bit. “You seem a little… off today. Is there something on your mind?” His voice was even, yet there was a glint in his eyes.

Your cheeks colored instantly. “Oh, no! Just… thinking about, uh, some things,” you stammered, averting your eyes.

“Is that so?” Lucifer’s lips curved slightly as he leaned back, looking amused. “I imagine some things can be quite distracting.” He let the words linger just enough to make you glance nervously in Barbatos's direction. Lucifer’s smirk only deepened.

Diavolo:

Diavolo was nothing short of delighted by the entire situation. He’d picked up on your bashful glances early on and found it charming. For him, it was a rare source of entertainment in an otherwise regimented day of royal duties. Diavolo had a soft spot for you, and a little innocent teasing wouldn’t hurt.

One day, as you all gathered for tea, Diavolo nudged you with a knowing grin. “You always seem so polite around Barbatos,” he said warmly. “It’s sweet how you hold him in such high regard.”

Your face turned red as you tried to laugh it off, saying, “Oh, well, Barbatos is… He’s… a remarkable butler.” You fumbled with your words as Diavolo chuckled. “Indeed, he is.”

He looked to Barbatos, hoping his loyal friend might catch on, but Barbatos maintained his usual serene expression. Still, Diavolo was certain Barbatos wasn’t unaware of your little crush.

Barbatos:

Barbatos had indeed noticed. He was too perceptive not to. The subtle hints in your body language, the occasional stammer, or the way your gaze lingered before you quickly looked away—it didn’t take long for him to catch on.

Barbatos respected your desire to stay composed and civil, and he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. But he couldn’t deny he was somewhat intrigued. He found your earnestness endearing, and perhaps he even felt a hint of warmth himself.

One day, as you were in the kitchen together, you almost dropped a tray when Barbatos leaned in to help you with the teapot. He gave you a gentle smile. “Do be careful. I would hate to see you hurt yourself.”

The way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat, but you tried to nod coolly. “Of course, Barbatos. Thank you.” You barely managed to get the words out.

Barbatos’s calm, kind smile lingered as he took in your flustered expression. He spoke in his soft voice, “It’s always a pleasure working with someone so… attentive.” His words were vague but held a subtle hint that made your cheeks flush even deeper.

Later that day…

Lucifer and Diavolo exchanged a knowing glance. Diavolo chuckled and leaned toward Lucifer. “I have to admit, this situation is more entertaining than I expected.”

Lucifer smirked. “Indeed. Though I suspect Barbatos will handle it with his usual grace.”

Diavolo nodded, watching your attempts to avoid Barbatos’s gaze with growing amusement. “Let’s just say, I think we’ll see some interesting developments very soon.”

---

Barbatos, meanwhile, simply observed you from across the room, an almost imperceptible smile on his face. He had all the time in the world, and he was more than willing to see where this went.

[inawickedlittletown]

One Year - BuckTommy - 8x06 fix it

Summary: This is my fix-it because I for one can't take that break up being the end. So, it takes a while, but they belong together. Words: 6k Read on Ao3

-

The first time he saw Evan again, it was from afar. It had been a couple of weeks. They were at the same call, Tommy somehow winding up on the ground. He spotted Evan walking next to Eddie with Howie and Hen just ahead of them, heard their voices despite how loud everything was. He kept his distance, and only once ran into someone from the 118. Ravi, who gave him a smile and nod. 

The next time, it was at one of the badge and ladder bars. Lucy had forced him to go. Had she not been holding his arm, he would have turned and fled. Instead he saw Evan throw back a shot and then walk over to some guy whose physique told Tommy he had to be a firefighter. He saw as Evan said something that made the other guy laugh and then they were getting drinks together and…and Lucy took him out the door while he tried to catch a breath. 

Tommy wasn’t new to a break up…it was just that this one was hitting harder than any before. 

Before Evan, there had been three boyfriends. Before and in between were hookups and one-night stands and even some friends with benefits that popped in and out of his life. He’d come out when he was in his early thirties, around the same age as Evan. Of course, for Tommy it had been different. He’d been hiding it from everyone and even from himself. 

In the army, he and some other guys had had a bit of fun. Masturbating together and pretending it was all fine and heterosexual because they weren’t touching each other. He’d exchanged one or two blowjobs here or there like an exchange of favors with guys that had girlfriends waiting for them back home. He lied and told them he had a girl too. Pretended he didn’t like giving as much as he liked receiving. 

Things were much the same when he was at the 118, except that pretending he had a girlfriend was harder. He even tried to date women. Abby…he’d met Abby when the 118 went to a call about her mother. She’d almost burnt down her whole house by forgetting to turn off a stove and looking back that had definitely been an early sign of her dementia. Abby was nice and Tommy couldn’t deny that he got along with her and it helped that she understood how busy his job kept him and what his hours were like. 

Dating Abby was the first time he felt like maybe he could do it. Marry the girl. Have some kids. Lie to himself and the world forever. As unfair as it was to Abby, it just…Tommy could tell that it might work. It was why they got engaged. It was why he was so sure about getting married but then there were guys he met on calls or that he checked out from time to time and he didn’t think he would ever be able to put that away. Instead, he would wind up cheating on Abby and making the hurt worse. So, he broke it off and felt horrible when he realized that Abby had gotten the blow of her mom’s dementia diagnosis.

After Abby, Tommy went a little wild. He slept around. Found out more about himself. Knew that he could never do what he did to Abby to any other woman. He heard at some point about Abby taking up with a younger guy. In what universe could Tommy have expected that years later he would date the same guy. 

One night, he ran into Karen at a Target of all places. Tommy was there to pick up detergent and he was just deciding between brand name or the store brand and also trying his hardest to not buy the brand he knew that Evan used, when a cart bumped into his. 

“I’m so sorry,” Karen said. 

He looked up slowly. 

“Tommy,” Karen said warmly. “Hi.” 

Behind her came Denny and Mara. Mara he’d only met a handful of times and he knew her to be a little shy. Denny smiled at him. 

“Hi, Tommy.”

“Oh. Hi,” Tommy said. “You got your cast off.” 

Denny nodded. “A little while ago.” 

He remembered sitting in that hospital waiting room and how he’d tagged along to Denny’s room and hadn’t expected that Denny would want him to sign his cast seeing as he was all but a stranger, but Denny did offer him the marker and Tommy did sign.

Despite wanting to, he didn’t ask about Evan. He hardly managed to ask about Hen. 

“She’s good,” Karen said and then, “hey, listen, you don’t have to be a stranger.” 

He offered her a tight smile. 

“I’m serious. Hey, how about dinner soon?”

He shrugged and Karen insisted, pulling out her phone and throwing dates at him until he agreed. 

Before she left, Karen grabbed his arm. “I don’t know what happened, no one really does, Hen says he doesn’t want to talk about it. You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to, but that doesn’t mean you’re not our friend still, Alright? That doesn’t just go for Hen and I, either.” 

Eddie had reached out the day after. The day after that too. And the one after that one. Then it was weekly. Then it was bi-weekly. Then came a final message. A voicemail. Tommy almost didn’t listen to it. 

“Hey, man,” Eddie said. “I guess you decided to cut all ties. I get it. Kind of. And look, Buck is my friend, but you are too and I don’t drop my friends. I know you’re hurting too, so don’t be afraid to reach out. I’m here for whenever you’re ready.” 

Tommy never called him. He thought about it. Almost texted him several times. He missed Eddie. 

He missed their easy friendship and the way that Eddie had welcomed him so wholly. He just couldn’t face him because Eddie would give it all away about how Evan was doing and Tommy wouldn’t be able to keep his own feelings in. It would burst out and then Eddie would know just how horrible Tommy really felt and how regretful too. 

He did regret it. 

He hated himself. 

Tommy went to dinner with Hen and Karen. It was good. Fun, even. Neither of them asked and Tommy didn’t offer any information. Instead, he got to hear about Mara’s adoption going through finally and about how Maddie was pregnant and doing really well. He tried not to think about Evan becoming an uncle for the second time and how excited he had to be over it. They exchanged Lucy stories and then stories from way back when Tommy was in the 118. Tommy promised they would do dinner again. 

The next time he ran into Evan, it had been more time than they had even been together. Tommy shouldn’t still be mourning the end of the relationship and yet…of course he was. Of course he still missed Evan desperately. So much for waylaying a heartbreak, there hadn’t been stopping that apparently and seeing Evan was like having someone reach right into his chest and squeeze. 

The first guy that he ever called boyfriend was a guy named Ivan. Ivan was a little older…okay, much older, and Tommy thought he was in love. Figured that was it and that he and Ivan could be forever. When Ivan broke it off because he met someone else, Tommy was devastated. 

“Tommy, I’m your first boyfriend, of course this wasn’t going to last. I always thought we were on the same page and that this was a bit of fun.” 

A month or so later, Tommy realized that Ivan was right. He wasn’t torn up and he hadn’t been in love as much as wanting the security of the relationship because it meant he didn’t need to keep looking for love. He’d gotten comfortable with Ivan, but what they hadn’t wasn’t something that would last no matter how much Tommy had thought it was what he wanted. 

The second guy came a year or so later. Paul was younger and Tommy met him while they were on a call. When Paul came by with muffins a few days later they got talking and Paul admitted that he was nervous but he’d wanted to see Tommy again. They had a few dates and then Tommy was rushing in with Paul. They spent every moment together and then moved in together too. 

When they broke up right before their one year anniversary, it was because Paul admitted that he never thought his first real relationship with a guy could be his last and that he had more options to explore. 

“Tommy, you were amazing. You will always be so important to me, but I’m not in love with you.” 

Somehow, that still hurt less than Evan and Tommy only had himself to blame for that. 

He saw Evan at a farmer’s market. He was with Jee-Yun who skipped ahead of him laughing. Evan was smiling after her. Tommy didn’t mean to follow, but he did keep his distance. Saw Evan buy a few things and smile at the girl that sold them to him, saw him stop at a stand selling apple cider, the man behind the counter blond and tall and bulky. Hot. His eyes were hazel and he was smiling at Evan and ignoring anyone else that approached. Evan was smiling back and doing that thing where he ducked his head bashfully before looking up through his eyelashes. Tommy’s heart ached. 

Tommy walked away from that. He turned and he walked until he was back at his car and then he sat there in his truck and let his mind wander because what if Evan asked that guy out? Or the girl? What if one of them wasn’t dumb like Tommy and stuck around and refused to let Evan go. What if Tommy never got a chance to…but he’d already blown his chance with Evan and he doubted there would ever be another. 

When he got to his shift later, Lucy took one look at him.

“Hey, you okay?” 

“I don’t think I’ve been okay for months.” 

Lucy hugged him. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” she asked. 

He shook his head. 

It was hard to even admit to himself how much he’d screwed up and how much he’d allowed his fear to color how he faced Evan wanting more than what they already had. He’d been unprepared when Evan brought it up and then it had been the Abby of it all and the way that Tommy knew he couldn’t expect for Evan to settle for him. That just wasn’t how it worked. He was the first, but not the last. Tommy just wasn’t good enough to be Evan’s last and it was something that Evan would figure out sooner or later. So why wait for their whole lives to get even more entwined and for everything to be so much harder when it all fell apart. 

One night, when Lucy showed up at his house to hang out, she had tried to bad-talk Evan as if that would help. It was the night she dropped information that Tommy hadn’t known and wasn’t it wild how much he and Evan had inadvertently not shared. Six months and they hadn’t talked about anything at all, apparently. 

Lucy and Evan had kissed once while drunk at a bar. 

The jealousy that hit him was…Tommy wasn’t usually a jealous guy and yet the very idea made him cringe and maybe he downed two shots back to back. 

“I kissed him,” Lucy said. “He didn’t push me away and I had no idea that he had a girlfriend at the time.”

It didn’t make him think badly of Evan, not the way that Lucy maybe intended. It just…it made Tommy wonder about how it would have gone if he was right. Would Evan have cheated on him once he realized he wanted more than what Tommy was willing to offer. But no…no, that wasn’t Evan was it? No, Evan would have stuck it out even when he got miserable and didn’t want to anymore and then Tommy would have had to say something and end it. 

“What happened after that?” Tommy had asked. 

“Between me and Buck? Nothing. I’m just saying, he isn’t this perfect guy either.”

As if Tommy didn’t know that, as if Tommy hadn’t seen exactly who Evan was from the get go. He was a mess, he was jealous, impulsive, he believed in curses, got pouty when he didn’t get his way. Evan was far from perfect, but Tommy had loved him because of it. He saw how much of the bad was still good or maybe not even bad at all. 

Lucy did leave him thinking about how they had never discussed exes until Abby and how maybe they should have. He wondered if Evan would have even brought up the Lucy of it all. He wondered how he would have taken Tommy’s own exes…Ivan and Paul and…and Henry. 

Henry was the last boyfriend before Evan. Gorgeous Henry who began as a friend and then started to get a bit flirty and who kissed Tommy for the first time at a New Years Eve party and then freaked out because Tommy was a guy. 

Weeks of not talking and Tommy not being able to stop thinking about him to an obsessive degree. How on Valentine’s day, he was surprised when red roses and chocolate was delivered to Harbor from Henry to Tommy and a simple note asking him out. He’d gotten so much shit for that, but Tommy had secretly loved it. The romance of it all, the sweetness. Henry had been so sweet. 

Henry who told Tommy that he was sorry but he had no idea guys were an option for him and how he couldn’t deny how much he wanted Tommy. They had long conversations about it and Tommy took it so slow that they didn’t even have sex for the first two months. 

Tommy didn’t realize that their feelings were different. Tommy had been crushing on Henry even before the kiss and then he had him. Henry had been mystified by Tommy and his attraction to him, but it wasn’t long before his eyes started to wander. Tommy had bought his house right before they started dating and when Henry’s roommate situation got a bit difficult he welcomed him right in. It had felt like the start of the rest of their lives. That had been a mistake. 

Tommy had been so blind. Looking back, the red flags had been evident. He’d been blinded by love and friendship and daydreams about a future he thought was within his grasp. Then, one night, when he managed to sprain an ankle, Tommy was first taken to the hospital and then sent home a whole thirteen hours earlier than expected. Henry hadn’t answered his calls, so Tommy got back home on his own. He found Henry in bed with a woman. 

The last time he saw Henry, it was when Henry picked up the last of his things and when Henry made his apologies and excuses it felt like Ivan and Paul before him. 

Tommy was never enough. Not enough. Always the placeholder for something or someone better. 

“Why not just break up with me?” Tommy remembered asking. 

“I didn’t know how. You were so…I’m sorry, Tommy. I guess I’m not done trying to figure out what I want.” 

The one thing Henry had figured out was that Tommy was not what he wanted. 

He did cry after Henry and then he threw himself into work and downloaded an app or two and didn’t try to date seriously. He had friends to call on lonely nights and then he could hit up a bar and find someone that way. Tommy had all but convinced him that it was all he’d ever have, until he met a firefighter with a cute birthmark who Tommy kissed without having planned to and who he almost wrote off after the first date and was so glad he didn’t. Breaking up with Evan was hitting harder than anyone that came before. 

Evan was different. He had burrowed deep in his heart and there was no getting him out. Tommy didn’t think he wanted him out. 

A few weeks later, he saw Eddie at the mall and with him was Christopher. He looked taller than the last time Tommy had seen him, and he was in LA. Eddie looked happy. Of course, he was happy. Tommy hated that he didn’t know when Chris had returned or how Eddie had won him over again. 

“Tommy,” Eddie said. 

“Tommy,” Christopher said. 

Had it been just Eddie, Tommy might have ignored them. Instead, he turned around. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Hey,” Eddie said with a smile. 

“Hi, Tommy,” Christopher said. 

“Hey, kid, nice to see you back in LA.” 

Chris gave him a rundown of his time in Texas. He talked about the friends he made and his cousins and grandparents, but how Eddie had gone to see him and then Chris decided to come back with him. 

It was nice to talk to Chris and then to follow Eddie and Chris into one of the stores. Chris got distracted then, and Eddie turned to Tommy. 

“How are you really?” 

“It’s been months,” Tommy said. 

“I know. You never called me back. You should have,” Eddie said. 

“I couldn’t,” Tommy said. “You’re…how is he, Eddie?” 

Eddie took in a breath. “Look, I don’t think I should answer that. Buck is coping. He’s doing…what did he call it, he’s exploring. Apparently, it’s what you told him he needed to do.” Eddie’s look was pointed. Full of judgment. 

Tommy had to look away, he had to hope that his eyes wouldn’t fill up with tears. That night, right after he left Evan’s place, Tommy didn’t even remember how he got home. He did remember that he’d gone for his usual comforts. A shot of whiskey, a case of beer, and he’d tried to watch a movie and failed miserably. Hadn’t been able to watch romantic comedies since. Documentaries were out too. 

“Dad,” Christopher called. 

“I — I’ll leave you to it,” Tommy said. 

Eddie grabbed his shoulder. “Wait. No. Just…let’s hang out. You can come over or I can come over. We could sparr or get a drink. We’re still friends, Tommy. I’m serious.” 

“Okay.” 

Eddie called him that night and Tommy couldn’t say no to having Eddie come over to his place. They didn’t talk about Evan the whole time, not until Eddie was getting ready to leave. 

“I want to say something because I’m your friend and Buck’s friend. What you did was really stupid and I never thought you were stupid. If this was the way you always saw it going, why did you waste his time? Why did you let him fall for you? And I know you hurt yourself too, Tommy, I can see it all over you. So why? Just…answer that.” 

Eddie didn’t even let him reply before he left. 

Why did Tommy do that? Because even a minute of knowing Evan was worth it. Ending it early was just…he’d expected it to help because he had control and he was making the call and then he wouldn’t be devastated. It was a little late for it, apparently, at least on his end. 

“He’s exploring,” he said out loud. Eddie’s words. 

What had Tommy expected. God, he really was an idiot. 

A week later he was at a call that the 118 was present for as well. He tried to stay well clear of them, but he couldn’t help but look for Evan. It was like being a moth drawn to light and of course Evan was his light. 

He’d overheard Lucy and Melton talking on his first shift after his talk with Eddie and Melton had said everyone had a regret in love, that everyone had someone they let go of or who let them go that always left what ifs. Evan wasn’t a regret, Tommy would never regret him. What he regretted was that Tommy had allowed fear and his own baggage to cloud things and destroy what he and Evan had. 

Of course, a part of him did still wonder if he had been right. Every relationship came with risk, and Evan having just realized he was into men as much as women, it wasn’t farfetched to think that one day he might think that he’d settled into something with Tommy far too quickly without really knowing for sure it was what he wanted. Evan hadn’t denied that either, he hadn’t tried to stop Tommy leaving. He hadn’t reached out. He hadn’t even asked for any of his things back — granted neither had Tommy. 

Tommy had everything that Evan had ever left as his house in the drawer that had been Evan’s. Or hanging on his coat rack. In his bathroom. In his kitchen. He hadn’t had the heart to remove any of it and sometimes when he was really tired or when he’d hit the booze a little hard with Lucy, he could even convince himself that it was there waiting for Evan. 

The call rang long, the fire blazing for a while and worse people stuck inside on the higher floors. Tommy was helping on the ground on a hose, he knew the 118 was helping with evacuation along with the 133 and somehow they did manage to get everyone out and they did manage to get the flames put out. Tommy wouldn’t admit it, but he spent most of the call with his heart in his throat hoping that Evan stayed safe and that nothing went wrong. 

They were just getting back to the truck when he saw Evan a little soot covered, but smiling. He was talking to a reporter. Red hair, pale skin, skinny and pretty. He kept talking to her even after the camera man brought the camera down. 

“That’s Taylor Kelly,” Lucy said and she pushed him to keep moving. 

Taylor Kelly the reporter. Taylor Kelly who was Evan’s ex. Taylor who Evan had cheated on with Lucy. When he turned back to look once more they were no longer talking. 

“I don’t get why you haven’t reached out to him,” Lucy said. 

“He’s a coward,” Melton said. 

“It’s been how many months now and you’re not over him. Do you want me to find out if he’s seeing anyone? Maybe you still have a shot. We’ve never seen you like this before and at first it was I guess normal. Now it’s a bit depressing. What happened, Tommy?” 

“What happened is Melton is right and I am a coward,” Tommy said and then he climbed into the truck and looked away from them, glad when they didn’t talk to him the whole way back to Harbor. 

He heard about Maddie giving birth from Hen. It was a passing comment one night when he went over for dinner and Tommy found himself mourning that he hadn’t been there for Evan through all of it, especially because as Karen told it, Maddie had had a hard labor. 

He was shown pictures from Hen’s phone. The baby was tiny and already had a tuft of dark hair. He scrolled through pictures and then there he was. Evan holding the baby in his arms, the baby looking even smaller tucked right into the crook of Evan’s elbow and Evan smiling down with so much awe and love. It hurt to look at him, but Tommy couldn’t stop. 

So maybe there had been times when Tommy allowed himself to think about a future where he and Evan stayed together, one where they were married and decided they should be parents too. He’d seen Evan around kids too often, knew Evan would want to be a dad. Tommy had never longed for that or anything, but with Evan he would have wanted it. That was all gone now. 

“Oh,” Karen said. “Sorry. I forgot…”

Tommy forced himself to flip to the next picture. Another shot of Evan, this time he was looking up with the bluest glassiest eyes. He missed him. He missed him so damn much and it wasn’t fair how much. 

“Tommy,” Karen said. “Hey, are you alright?” 

“I miss him,” Tommy said. 

“I’m pretty sure he misses you too,” Hen said. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Do you have anything stronger?” 

Hen didn’t mince words. She told him point blank about how after the break up, Evan had tried to act like he was alright. Then, he’d just started to do anything he could in order to keep busy. 

“He started baking,” Hen said. “Then he started doing yoga. He started rock climbing. I think he even took an art class. Anyway, it was hard to watch but I guess it was better than if he sat at home wallowing.” 

“Like I did,” Tommy said. 

Karen grasped his wrist. “You were both hurting. What happened, Tommy?” 

“He asked me to move in and I said no.” 

“And you broke up over that?” Hen asked, surprised. 

Tommy shook his head. “No. Yes. In what world was this going to last? He only just discovered he likes men and yeah it was going well but it wasn’t forever. If we moved in together, it was going to be so much harder when we broke up.” 

“That’s…that’s bullshit, Tommy,” Hen said. “So, you broke his heart and yours so it wouldn’t happen later on.” 

“I didn’t break his—”

“You did,” Karen said. 

“Well shouldn’t he get a chance to explore what his sexuality means? Shouldn’t he get to figure that out instead of settling for the first guy he dates?” 

“And what if he wasn’t settling?” 

That kept him up all of that night. He still remembered how the conversation had gone. Evan had brought up the Abby thing and Tommy had felt put on the spot because it was the last thing he expected and then Evan had started to explain about Abby being an important relationship to him and how Tommy was just as important, the most important since, and all at once Tommy’s fears and insecurities had rushed forward because Evan and Abby hadn’t made it and now that Tommy was this gay mentor or whatever of course it wouldn’t last either. He tried to explain that to Hen and Karen and they both looked at him like he was the one that didn’t get it. 

“You need to talk to him,” Hen said. “For both your sakes.” 

“I don’t know if I can,” Tommy admitted. 

Exactly a year after it happened, he saw Evan again. 

Tommy had gone out to a gay bar because he couldn’t stay home and wallow. Lucy had also told him that he needed to put himself out there again. That if he wasn’t going to talk to Evan, then he needed to talk to someone that might give him a reason to move on. He really didn’t want to, but at the same time his right hand was getting tired and maybe some release of a carnal nature was what Tommy needed. No one had said it, but they had all kind of implied that Evan had at least gotten out there. 

He and Evan had gone to that bar once, gotten a drink and then danced a little before calling it a night and heading back to Evan’s, both of them eager to get up to Evan’s bedroom. He remembered seeing more than a few eyes looking at Evan with interest and how it had made something inside him churn because Tommy had known that if Evan was on the market again he wouldn’t have a hard time finding someone that was interested in him. 

Finding himself a free spot at the bar, Tommy ordered a beer and he tried not to think about the first few times that Tommy had gone into a gay bar and how nervous he’d been to actually put himself out there like that. 

“Hi, handsome,” a male voice said before Tommy had even gotten his beer. 

Tommy turned. “Hello.” 

The guy had floppy hair. He was lanky and thin, could probably be called a twink. He was also way too young for Tommy, probably not even in his mid-twenties. 

“So,” the twink said, hand reaching to touch Tommy’s chest right where the V of his shirt ended. “Want to have some fun?” He wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips and his hand climbed to Tommy’s neck. 

“Sorry,” Tommy said. “That’s not why I’m here.” 

“Boo,” the guy said, hand dropping away, “So why are you here?” 

“A drink,” Tommy said decisively because he knew that even if someone age appropriate were to approach him, he wouldn’t have been interested. They weren’t Evan. 

“Oh, well. It was worth trying. Though, I don’t usually get turned down twice in one night.” 

“What’s your name?” Tommy asked. 

“Owen.” 

“Well, Owen, it looks to me like there are plenty of fishes in the sea. Third time might be the charm. To be honest, you’re way too young for me and I’m still…I’m hung up on my ex.” 

Owen took a look around, but he turned back to Tommy. “Bad break up? Did he break your heart?” 

“More like I broke his and mine. Such an idiot.” 

“But, hey, you’re still hot. I could help you forget for a few hours.” 

Tommy laughed. 

Owen grinned. “Not ready for that. Must have been quite the guy.” 

“Yeah.” 

Owen wandered off and Tommy watched him strike up a conversation with another guy, someone a little closer to his age. They seemed to hit it off and next time he saw them they were out getting lost in the crowd of bodies on the dance floor. 

Tommy finished his beer and was about to order another when he heard a familiar voice. Down the bar he found Evan. He was turned away from Tommy looking to one of the tables where a man was waving. Tommy couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t see Evan flirt with someone else. He couldn’t see Evan go home with that guy. He couldn’t look away. 

Evan said something to the girl behind the bar and…wait, did he not accept the drink? Then, he saw Evan put some money down right before finishing his beer and moving to leave. 

Tommy did the same and he followed. 

Evan made it out the door just ahead of him and Tommy had to get around several people, but eventually he made it to the door and then out. Evan was just outside, arms crossed over his chest, waiting. 

“Tommy,” he said. 

His voice, the sound of his name, Tommy felt it all down to his bones. 

“Hi, Evan,” he said and he knew his voice broke on Evan’s name. 

“It’s been a year,” Evan said. 

The door opened behind Tommy and Tommy had to step out of the way, his eyes never leaving Evan because maybe Evan would disappear. 

“I know,” Tommy said. 

“It’s felt like longer,” Evan said. 

“I know.” 

“I miss you,” Evan said. 

“I miss you too.” 

Evan was quiet for a beat and then, “then, why?” 

It was high time he stopped being a coward, high time that he stopped getting in his own way or letting the past intrude on his present. 

“Because I’m the biggest idiot,” Tommy said.

Evan snorted. “You’re not wrong.” 

The door opened again bringing with it a wave of music. It was Owen, arms linked with the guy he’d been dancing with. He looked between them and laughed, shaking his head as he walked past them. 

“Maybe we should take this conversation elsewhere,” Tommy suggested. 

Tommy’s house was closer. It felt better than going to Evan’s loft, not that it stopped Tommy from remembering how it had all gone. How he’d let the door close behind him and he’d just thought that it was the right call. 

Evan followed him inside. 

“You know, it was so dumb of me to ask you to move in when you’re the one that owns his own place,” Evan said. “I was just…overcorrecting. Rushing. Trying to show you how much I wanted us to have a future.”

“And I got scared,” Tommy said and led Evan to the living room. “I was dumb too. I should never have broken up with you but, Evan, the way you were talking about Abby and me, it was like of course I was just here to be your next transformative relationship. The next thing that prepared you for…for whoever came next.”

Transformative. That word had stuck around for him, he realized. The comparison Evan had made about his relationship with Abby to their relationship. He and Evan sat down.

“Tommy, I’m—”

Tommy stood. “I’ll go get us some water.” 

He didn’t wait for Evan to respond. As soon as he was out of the room he took a few breaths. What were they doing here? What were either of them hoping to accomplish? Did Evan want to get back together? Was that…was that the right move? 

Twelve months. It had been double the amount of time that their relationship had lasted and Tommy ached for Evan. He longed for him. He still hadn’t gotten rid of any of the things that reminded him of Evan or the things that belonged to Evan either. Hell, he hadn’t even let anyone take over or make their own mark. 

“Tommy?” Evan called you. “Do you want me to come to the kitchen?” 

“I’ll be right back.” 

He grabbed and filled glasses. 

Evan had started pacing the floor. He looked distraught. Tommy wanted to grab his hands and hug him, instead he set down the water. 

“We never talked about our exes,” Tommy said. 

Evan’s gaze snapped towards him. “No, I guess we didn’t.”

“Come, sit,” Tommy said and motioned to the couch. “Evan, I think I let my past decide my future and clearly I was wrong and this last year has been miserable. I’ve missed you every day and I thought walking away was the right thing for you, but it was definitely the wrong thing for me and I just—”

He didn’t expect Evan to kiss him, but that’s what Evan did. It didn’t last long and Tommy wanted to pull him right into another kiss because it had been a year since the last time he kissed him — the last time he’d kissed anybody. 

“Evan,” he said. 

“I learned a year and a half ago that was one way of getting someone’s attention,” Evan said. “I’ve been miserable too. I hated this last year and I missed you and as much as I wanted to hate you I just love you too much.” 

Then, they were kissing again and Tommy was pressed back against his couch, Evan practically crawling into his lap. His arms were around Evan again and he really hadn’t thought that he would ever have this again, but Evan was there and he smelled amazing and he felt amazing and their lips slotted together perfectly. 

Tommy didn’t even realize he was crying until Evan pulled back and his hands were brushing away his tears and then kissing his cheeks. His nose. 

“I love you,” Evan said. “I’m in love with you.” 

His heart was soaring and he reached to cup Evan’s cheeks. “Good, because I love you too.” 

Evan smiled wide at him, pecked his lips and then just hugged him. Held him. Tommy held him back. 

“We’ll have to talk about it,” Tommy said. “I want to explain. I want—”

“Later,” Evan said. “Right now, I just want…I want to bask in this. In us.” 

[solar4seekstron]

Hi um so I usually don't see these but I was thinking a Mirage and Cybortron! Reader but the scene where Mirage brings Noah to the place where they're supposed to meet up with the other autobots but reader gets to Mirgae first before the others and of course is happy to see him cause they're conjux but gets mad when he sees he brought Noah so of course they have a little spat on what they should do with him before the others arrive than of course the other autobots come in

This is so cute I’ll definitely give it a try

Transformers Knightverse!Mirage x Cybertronian!GN!Reader Oneshot: A Human

Part 1

Part 2

TW/Tags: Mostly just fluff, reader and Mirage argue for a bit, Noah feels like a child and he hates it, Reader has a soft spot for Mirage and he abuses it >:3, cutesy couple moments, OP gives you that “really?” Look at some point. This was so fun to write for Mirage I adore the little gremlin.

You and Mirage have known each other for a pretty good while. Even before the war. You’re a couple feet shorter then Optimus . And even during the time he admitted his feelings towards you. Apparently he’s into bots taller than him.

When you all got to the planet earth, you all had to hide. Causing you and Mirage to separate. Until one day when you got a message from Optimus Prime to meet up you knew this meant for you all to see each other. This including seeing your Conjunx. Mirage. As you drove to the spot you got there after he did.

”Oh here comes my boo. What a master at work with their boo.” Mirage said to the human Noah as Noah held a pipe as defense. He watched as he saw you transform. He was amazed as mirage only smiled like the silly bot he is.

You were pretty well built. With The right amount of slim and well build frame as you has sword in handles on both sides of your hips. Your optics were yellow then blue and you noticed the human once you came in. Your voice was soft but strong. having a softer tone then what most expect.

“Mirage what have you done? You brought a human here? What if Optimus sees him?”

You walked up to Mirage as he also made his way to you. “Mm! Boy did I miss that voice baby. Just like I miss them lips.” He avoided the question as his cervos grabbed one of yours and one of your cervos as he tries to pull you down by your chest plate. But you don’t indulge. Your other cervo moving to his helm.

You placed a digit on his dermas as you spoke.”I’ll deal with you later.”

You’d walk past him as he stuttered. “You know I would be more scared if I wasn’t so turned on right now!” He tries to get around you as you made your way to the human.

”Now now baby listen I can explain. Things just happened and well- he kinda got stuck with me during a police chase and uh-“

”Police?!” You looked at him as you both stood in front of Noah. Mirage looking up at you as he moved his arms around explaining himself. Noah just stared up at you two. Feeling like a kid as he watched his parents argue over something he did. Noah even calmed his guard down a bit as it still seemed your argument will keep going. As he then tried to slowly escape. “Mirage you should’ve known better.”

”Hey baby. Baby. I promise this will be great. Not all humans are bad and I can prove it with him.” He gestured to Noah. Who stopped once Bee and the others came. Including Optimus.

When Optimus spoke about Noah when he picked hm up. And Mirage tried to stand up for himself. Optimus, one of your closest friends looked at you for a second opinion. He always trusted your opinion despite when you became Mirages Conjunx during the war. You felt the pang in your spark bond with Mirage. You noticed he looked at you with puppy blue eyes……darn it. You let out a sigh and told Optimus that there’s nothing else they can do. They’re stuck with this human. But maybe he can help us if we let him live.

Mirage stared at you with joy. Optimus groaned but agreed. Noah even looked at you surprised that you protected him. Even when you glanced at him for a moment to be sure he’s alright. He looked down in an almost shy way. The Mirage and Noah speak about him joining them.

Then Mirage spoke about Noah selling him which made you send an annoyance through the bond causing him to groan a bit. Cause bee and Arcee to chuckle as he seemed almost in pain but kept speaking to Noah.

”What about the big guy.” Noah asked

”You let me worry about him.” Mirage responded and then Noah looked at you.

”And your whole situation with your…?.” Noah kinda whispered to Mirage. Mirage doing the same thing.

”You let me handle them too. Don’t worry they’ll warm up to you before ya know it.”

”Cool?” Noah took a moment but then nodded. Mirage got excited now that Noah was a part of the team.

As the other speak of what to do and speak of leaving. The others go their separate ways to rest after all they all had a long drive. During that time Mirage told Noah to just stay close to Bee. Bee not paying much mind as Noah just stood there. Contemplating his life.

Mirage walked up to you as you leaned against the wall. Checking out your swords as you glanced at him as he got closer. You stood straighter as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His chin against your chest. All you can see is his big blue eyes. “Thank you for helping me babe. You really love meee.”

“Oh course I do.” You put your sword away as you placed a cervo on the back of his helm. “I just hope you know what you’re doing Mirage. I cant always save you, ya know.” Your other cervo now on his shoulder. His optics now looked sad as he pulled back a bit.

”I know… But I’ll prove it to you and OP! I just got a feeling. Relax babe. I know what I’m doing. Remember?” You sighed as he spoke.

He looked up at you with big blue eyes as he had his usual grin on his face. Man you were so weak to that smile. And just him your usual gentle smile and leaned down. Both of your dermas connecting as you both close your optics. After all..

You can never say no to that face.

I honestly really enjoyed writing this. I kinda want to do the rest of the movie with these two but you guys let me know if you want more. As always I hope you all enjoy and as always Requests are open.

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi! New to your page but OBSESSED with your writing for ✨pookie✨(Criston Cole), you truly produce some magic! Was hoping you might be able to write something post start of war where OC (Alicents Daughter, maybe Aemonds twin) is absolutely miserable. Castle vibes are hell, family just busy and angry and any betrothal in the woodworks for her is now put on the back burner. Thinking Criston has a soft spot for her, and shows the curious maiden how to pleasure herself and keep entertained while they all are busy waging war. (Love me some religious guilt as well so maybe they both refuse to do full on PnV?)

Pretty please 🙏🏼

HELLO POOKIE LOVER!!! I HAVE A SHORT DEPRESSING SWEET AND SMUT FOR ✨YOU✨ I'm so glad you enjoy me works, mwah!!!!! Means sm❤️💋

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Foul Red Keep Energy, Criston’s inability to not be a slut syndrome, religious guilt, religious fanaticism, background alicole, manipulation and rationalization, age gap of modern Day legal standards thank you, frottage, pillow humping, plus sized reader, dirty talk, innocence kink

Taglist: @aemondfairy @elaratyrell @elfven-blog @fairysluna @gil-galadaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @samthegreenapologist @towriteloveontheirarms @urmomsgirlfriend1 @zaldritzosrose

WC: ~2k

He can’t fuck her, Criston reminded himself. He can strip himself raw and come all over that pretty pale skin and soft tummy of the little princess. He felt like a sick fuck afterward, the knight was positive he was doomed.

He would stand on guard— brooding whether he was just that fucked in the head or perhaps it was the ‘Dornish’ lust in his blood. Fucking the mother, defiling the maiden. His back was raw and scabbed from the flagellant. Begging and shedding tears on the kneeler as he bloodied his back to purge the sin in his fetid heart.

Yet seeing her whimper and come all over his fingers was a sight— a reprieve in the dismal Keep. The way she’d cling to Criston, crying and squirming on his lap as he massaged and suckled on her lovely tits might be worth his inevitable burning in the lowest layer of the seven hells. She was a sad little thing, fearful since Aegon was put upon the throne, how could he not comfort her?

He was expecting to leave soon, regrettably, Harrenhal and more fire and blood were on the horizon. Criston didn’t taste the ashes and choking miasma of death when he was kissing the lovely little princess. She tasted sweet and innocent, too soft for such circumstances. She had a fierce dragon, and Aemond would call her to arms.

He wanted to take her and run. Alas, he had a duty to live and die by the family he swore himself to. It was the only thing Criston cared for. A win, even if his life was the cost. Then his pretty girl could get married and live alright, with no threat of her head getting lopped or dying by dragon fire.

Criston had her in his lap now as he brooded, eyes scanning over documents he wasn’t meant to understand. He was a warrior, not nearly sharp enough to fill Otto Hightower’s shoes. He exhaled, rubbing the soft velvet of her dress. She was curled up, straddling him, soft blonde hair nestled under his jaw.

“Sweetling?” He rasped.

She mumbled sleepily, “Mhm Ser?”

Criston smiled a little, a faint curve of the corners of his lips. She was so precious to him. His little shadow when he was in the keep. Criston wasn’t complaining, he felt more alone than ever and for some reason, the Gods only knew, the young woman adored the knight.

He slipped his fingers through her platinum hair, hand sliding over to gently grip her chin. She looked like her mother and Aegon— big doe eyes, pouty lips. The princess had those purple eyes, they always tried to peer into him. It escaped Criston how his blackened insides didn’t run her off.

“Are you tired, princess?” He asked.

She shrugged, eyes searching his. Plump lips twitched before she asked if he was restless.

Criston’s hand caressed her soft cheek, lips curling up once again. He murmured, “You keep me restless, sweetling.” She made a soft noise, the sound going straight to Criston’s cock. He needed her, now, preferably before the guilt ate at him too much and he’d send the princess away with a guard.

He stood up, lifting her along with him, lips traveling along the pale column of her neck. The darling dressed like a damn septa, her chemise up to her chin. Criston had already untied it early so he could have access for times like now, pressing lush kisses and playful nips as she whimpered.

“You’re such a good girl, always reading, reciting your prayers,” he rambled, laying her down on his bed. The princess whined, arching into his heavier frame.

“I’m not being bad am I?”

Criston was about to open his mouth, hands pushing up her dress, stopping at her plush thighs. His dark eyes studied her lips as she spoke.

The blonde got on her elbows, achingly innocent, that little furrow between her brows tightening. She spoke softly and quietly as if spilling a secret. The princess murmured, “I- I was rereading the passages in the Seven Pointed Star. As long as my maidenhead is intact, I honor the father and maiden by being pure that I’d be safe. Y-you’re just comforting me, teaching me how to be a good wife, while respecting my maidenhead.”

He stared more.

“Right Ser Criston?”

Cole felt his heart ache worse than any wound physically inflicted. The poor thing was rationalizing and he wasn’t going to challenge it. Criston nodded, stroking her soft curls, his other hand up under the velvet of her green dress, stroking her hip, holding back from gripping the abundant flesh.

He spoke gently to the little lamb, lips ghosting her pout, “Yes, that’s it, in uncertain times like this, I wish to make you feel better. We’ll pass this war and you’ll be a sweet little wife. So good and pious, shush now princess.”

If he heard her speak of the faith again he might cry. So Criston flipped her over, undoing her dress. The thick layers, the kirtle— the Marcher could do it with his eyes closed. The Princess kept her chemise on, a farce, Criston would have it shoved up or unbuttoned.

She shivered as he leaned over her frame, pulling her against his clothed cock. Criston groaned, Gods, she was soft and plush. He nuzzled at the nape of her neck, calloused hands rubbing flared hips, whispering, “How you manage to be a light in this dark keep is a miracle.”

Yet here he was, dimming said light.

She squirmed against his hard cock, panting. Criston would play with her for hours if he could, alas, he didn’t like her to cry. He figured it was time to pose a lesson of sorts. The knight racked his brain, eyes landing on one of those stiff, rounded pillows.

“Sweetling, princess, grab that pillow, you see it don’t you?”

She grabbed it, lavender eyes casting over her shoulder as Criston chuckled nastily. So innocent, his dark heart said. He nosed at her silken shoulder, adjusting her into sitting on the pillow, making sure she was leaning forward a little.

“Criston,” she whined, looking at him again, lips trembling. He loved when the princess got all red, pallid skin blotching. He hummed, almost straddling her from behind, flush to her back and ass.

“This is for when your lord husband might be busy, or you need to relax. Probably good for when you’re with child and…not as spry. When I have to go, you can do this, it’s easy, take it at your pace right now.”

Criston grinned when she whimpered, hips jerking forward. He pressed closer, a hand undoing her chemise further, getting a handful of her ample tit. She moaned, always so sensitive, hips beginning to jerk forward and back. The brunette’s other hand steadied itself on her lower belly, kneading at the layer of flesh.

So fucking soft. Gods, gods, why?

His calloused hand massaged at her breast, the princess whimpering and moving quicker, grinding down onto the pillow, her ass rubbing Criston’s aching cock in the process. He panted against the crook of his shoulder and neck, mouth hanging open. Never did he get so undone without fucking pussy.

Except her.

“Does that feel good Princess?” Criston practically cooed, plucking at a stiff nipple, the Princess gasping wetly, her eyes shut tight. She reached back, one of her trembling hands lacing over Criston’s, mewling for him.

He bit at her neck, lapping after, the sweet gesture of their interlaced fingers sending his possessive streak into overdrive. Criston growled under his breath, rutting now, driving the blonde to move in jerks, biting at her full lips to keep from squealing.

“That’s it, sweetling, keep it up, make yourself feel good,” he rasped, licking and nipping up a racing pulse. She shivered from head to toe, head leaning back onto the knight’s shoulder as she huffed and whined, fucking against the pillow, angling herself to grind against her clit.

“Close, m’close Criston, please,” came her needy pleading, eyes hazy with pleasure as Criston marked her neck up, squeezing her hand as a lifeline. His hips stuttered as he coaxed his baby, no- the princess along.

He rested his cheek against hers, using his hips to guide her along at a breakneck pace. Criston groaned lowly, rasping, “Here we go, can’t sit and grind on your pretty petals for hours, you’ll get too sensitive, y-you’ve got to push it, like this, yeah sweetness, fuck, fuck!”

Criston trailed off as his cock twitched in his breeches, full and swollen and ready to pop. He had half a mind to just take her right there and then. Yet her cries of ecstasy and mewling paralyzed Criston’s dark thoughts.

He’d do this every night, any time, anywhere to get another sick thrill.

“Yes! Yes! Like this- oh g- gods, Ser! Mm, I'm close Ser,” she cried out, a ragdoll for Criston’s delights now. The princess turned to kiss him, a rare gesture, plush lips smacking against his fervently as they grunted and rutted in a frenzy. The Marcher gasped into her wet mouth, feeling like a dog drooling over meat.

Criston needed her to come first, suckling on her fat bottom lip, pressing harder, mumbling desperately sweet things he wouldn’t remember. He begged, “Yes sweetling, I can feel you, let go for me, come on, I'm with you darling, my precious girl.”

It was a muffled shriek and Criston’s pitchy cry as they messily kissed, rutting like animals, the princess spurring Criston on into emptying into his pants with ragged breaths, cursing and shivering. She fared no better, coming apart as pretty as she always did, making sure Criston could almost feel it.

They kissed through the aftershocks, lips all swollen and wet, Criston pulling her atop his body as he laid back onto the bed, lazily stroking the maiden’s back. She was quiet for a moment longer, basking, cheeks adorably flushed. She nuzzled his jaw and cheek like a kitten, sleepily mumbling, “Don’t make me leave yet, please Ser Criston? That was…a lesson…I don't want to be alone.”

He kissed her forehead, muttering some nonsense about giving her some time. Criston couldn't say no. It was more time to spend in fantasy. He could feel that small iron altar of the seven-pointed star awaiting him anyway. What was a few hours more in sin?

“I won’t leave you, my dear,” he lied.

[gumnut-logic]

Diary of a Fanboy Engineer

Alexander Sweetapple series on Ao3

What's this? Is this Nuttyfic? Not a nuttyfic reblog? The first in ages?

Why yes, yes, it is.

Consequently, the writing muscles are a bit rusty so don't expect much.

However this was prompted by conspiring Thunderfam on this post.

It is a bit of a 'let's see if this idea works or not', but since most of my fic comes under that category, I'm hoping it works at least a little :D

So we have the beginnings of some possible Sweetapple Diaries :D

Many thanks to the wonderful @onereyofstarlight for proof reading and pointing out the bits that really didn't work :D ::hugs you tight:: And many thanks to the Sweetapple cheering squad - without you, there would be no Sweetapple ::hugs you all to bits::

Warnings for m/m fic and a bucket of fluff.

I hope you enjoy these little scribbles :D

-o-o-o-

14 Jul

We are going to Paris.

Mr Tracy told Virgil in no uncertain terms that he needed time off. I can’t agree more. Hell, all the brothers need time off, but Virgil has been flagging lately. He denies it, of course. Workaholic to the core. I can see where he is coming from, but really, he needs to take better care of himself - they all do.

Paris was an interesting choice. I’ve never been to Europe, but I guess that comes with the billionaire territory.

I am excited, there are so many opportunities in Paris. I’m particularly looking forward to seeing some real Da Vinci. Climbing the Eiffel Tower is also on my list.

But for our next holiday, I think we’ll choose a spot more close to home. I know some quiet seaside towns where we could rent a bach and just lay back and relax.

Maybe France has a few hidden corners we could climb into.

Anyway, it’s something to look forward to. Really, anytime, anywhere, would be fantastic.

-o-o-o-

15 Jul

Today wasn’t a good one. We had multiple failures in the latest prototype.

Erica isn’t happy. She says it isn’t my fault, but honestly, I should have seen at least one of them coming. The effect of vacuum on micro air pockets in a flexible solid is so obvious it was ridiculous. How did I miss it?

Dearest had to cancel out again. Mount Etna tried to take out some tourists.

Virgil isn’t happy. Apparently, he has been warning the Italian authorities about the destabilisation of the volcano’s eastern face, but because their equipment can’t detect what International Rescue’s equipment can, they don’t want to sacrifice the tourism euros to close the tours.

Fortunately, it was only a partial collapse and IR was able to save those caught in the landslide. I have to say though, Commander Tracy was furious in the holoclip shown on the news. I wouldn’t want to be person responsible right now. Scott can get scary.

I did get to see some cool shots of Virgil in action though. That, I could never get tired of. He and Gordon manoeuvred Two and rappelled down to pull people out of the dirt and ash.

They are such heroes.

I do miss him, of course, but those poor people needed him more than I did.

Maybe we can holochat later…oh god, it’s 3am already!

-o-o-o-

16 Jul

Erica woke me up this morning. Really, I love her, she is so good to me, but bloody hell, can’t she knock?

Okay, it was nearly eleven and I had my phone on silent and I didn’t answer the door and…

At least I had my pyjama pants on, I guess.

What if Virgil had been here?

She said that was the reason she barged in, Virgil wasn’t here - no great green ‘bird and Tracy Two wasn’t logged at the airfield, and I was late for work. I might have been dead or something.

She cares and I appreciate that.

She could have held off the laughter, though.

Besides, I wasn’t late for work. Work is on flexi-time and considering I was up until 1am last night analysing yesterday’s screw ups, my sleep-in was natural and totally allowed.

Virgil left me a message with a ‘maybe tonight’. I’m hoping, but if there is one thing I’ve learnt it is that whatever happens, happens. No hoping too hard.

So here I am writing this entry a little earlier to kill some of that hoping time.

We solved two out of the three problems we had yesterday. The third is being a pain in the ass. Erica says I should speak to John as this lies in his speciality. I said, not until we’ve exhausted all our resources because John is a busy man.

We’re all busy, she said, and he offered to help. Gordon helped with the water issues. I could even ask Alan.

Really? It’s not at the point where I have to go to the top to help solve the problem. We’ll give it a few more days. It’s urgent, but not life threatening like the Tracy brothers need to attend to. They’ve got enough on their plate.

But John has such a lovely voice, she said.

I swear she does this just to rile me up.

That or she does have a thing for John. You would think she would have a thing for Mr Tracy, he was the one who saved her from the earthquake. Hell, she and Fireman Fred still have a mutual flirting thing going on.

—!

Virgil is here!

-o-o-o-

17 Jul

The sun rose early this morning. Somewhere in our haste we forgot to close the blinds and the first rays of dawn woke me.

I’m not a morning person, I’m the first to admit that. But this morning…

You’re lying on your belly and the covers have slipped down to your waist. The sun is painting your skin in shades of gold and your hair is glowing.

You are beautiful.

…

PS: I haven’t read anything, I promise. I just needed to write the image down and this book was the closest at hand. Can I paint you some time?

…

He read the above to me when I woke.

Let’s just say I was late to work again.

-o-o-o-

17 Jul (cont.)

Virgil stayed at Māhia today. He helped with the issue we were having with the prototype, though we did end up calling John.

John was happy to help - man, he thinks fast. Don’t get me wrong, I love my math and my physics, but John seems to be able to bend both to his will. It took him a total of five minutes. Five minutes! To design a solution to our problem - in between rescue calls.

It was one of those daunting moments where I could see exactly why they work so well together.

Of course, I am working with V.T. Green. Just let me name drop that right here. And the Voice Who Answers…is my life real? How the hell did I end up here?

Frickin’ bloody amazing.

-o-o-o-

[cod-thoughts]

And he stood by and waited to be called

Word count: 3.7k Relationship: NikPrice, PriceNik, Nikolai/Price Tags: Established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, surprises, anniversary

Price and Nikolai are supposed to be celebrating their anniversary today, what if Nik has to cancel last minute? What if he makes it up to Price anyway? Keep reading under the cut or on AO3 I've been working furiously on ghostprice week but i wanted to get something up before then so here we are! I just wanted some fluff and something wholesome its been a rough couple of weeks 0_0

John Price ran his fingers through his beard, inspecting it in the mirror under the bright, unforgiving bathroom light. He’d gone to the barber the night before, the guy taking care to trim his hair just right, shaping the beard until it was exactly the way Nikolai liked it. Price had watched in the mirror as the barber worked, the hum of clippers and the snip of scissors oddly soothing. He’d wanted it to be perfect, the kind of effort he didn’t make often, but today was special. It was for Nikolai, after all. The man who had waited, who had been patient through the endless nights apart, through the missions that had stretched longer than expected, through the calls that never came when Price got tied up in things beyond his control.

This morning, he’d taken his time getting ready, savoring every small step. He’d used that fancy beard oil Nikolai had given him on their last anniversary—the one with the cedar and sandalwood scent that Nikolai had said made him “smell like a forest, but a handsome one.” The words had stuck with Price, replaying in his mind every time he used the oil. He could almost hear Nikolai’s voice, that warm, affectionate tone, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he teased. It made Price smile to himself, a soft, private smile that lingered even as he moved through the rest of his routine.

He even went the extra mile, too, shaving away the rougher edges with a precision he hadn’t bothered with in a while, making sure every line was clean and crisp. The razor glided over his skin, the scent of shaving cream mingling with the cedar and sandalwood, and for once, Price allowed himself to enjoy it. This was, after all, their anniversary. Years of shared missions, flights, quick getaways, and late-night talks when the weight of command felt like too much, each adding up to something neither of them had ever quite expected. They’d found each other in the chaos, in the midst of everything else, and that was worth celebrating. It wasn’t just about the time they’d spent together—it was about the fact that they’d chosen each other, over and over again, despite everything.

After one last look, Price pulled his shirt collar into place, brushing his shoulders free of any stray hairs, adjusting the cuffs. It wasn’t fancy—not by a mile—but it felt good to put himself together just for the sake of it. For the sake of Nikolai. It made his chest swell with a quiet sort of pride, knowing that he could still find joy in the smallest of gestures, knowing that after all this time, Nikolai was still the one who made him feel like this.

As he strode out into the hallway, there was no hiding his uplifted mood. Gaz spotted him first, pausing with his coffee mug halfway to his lips, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Captain… you look sharp.” His tone was playful but warm, with an edge of real surprise. Price’s grooming routine was normally more utilitarian—efficient, maybe a bit rugged, if he was lucky.

Soap, however, was less subtle. “Christ, look at you, Cap,” he said with a dramatic whistle. “What’s the occasion?”

Price rolled his eyes, but he could feel his face heating, which only encouraged them further. Gaz gave him a knowing smile, and even Ghost, leaning against the far wall, raised an eyebrow, catching his eye with an amused nod.

They knew, of course. It was no secret that Nikolai and Price were together. It hadn’t always been easy—Price had grappled with it for years, all those ingrained habits and fears from a past where he’d never felt able to be himself, to be openly happy like this. It had been Nikolai’s patience, his kindness, that had chipped away at those walls, showing Price that he didn’t have to keep that part of himself hidden.

Instead of keeping quiet or dancing around the subject, the team encouraged him, embraced him in ways that went beyond words. They teased him, sure, but it was with warmth, with affection that made Price feel lighter than he’d ever imagined he could. After all those years of thinking he had to keep that part of himself locked away, he was here—respected and accepted not just as a captain, but as a man with a heart that belonged to someone else.

Soap, however, wasn’t about to let him go with just a blush, and brought him out of his reverie with an excited shout, “Hey, we should give him an escort!” He looked around at the others, his grin widening. “Make sure the captain here arrives in style. After all, a bloke doesn’t get gussied up like that every day.”

Price chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe I’m just overdue for a proper clean-up,” he muttered, trying to sound casual. But the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him, and he knew it. There was no hiding his excitement—not from the team, not from himself.

---

The hours passed, each task feeling like both a distraction and a countdown. Price moved through his duties with a kind of restless energy, his thoughts drifting constantly to the evening ahead. Every so often, he’d reach into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small, carefully tied pouch nestled there. He’d spent weeks searching for something that would be meaningful—something that would last. In the end, he’d settled on an old-fashioned pocket watch, the kind Nikolai had once mentioned fondly in passing. It wasn’t flashy, but Price knew it would suit him, a small reminder of them that could go wherever Nikolai did. It felt right—something timeless, something that held weight, just like what they shared.

He imagined Nikolai’s reaction, the way his eyes would light up when he saw it, the warmth in his smile when he realised what it meant. Price’s heart swelled at the thought, a small smile tugging at his lips as he made his way through the base. Each step felt lighter, each mundane task a little less tedious, knowing that at the end of it all, Nikolai would be there.

As the evening approached, he found himself glancing at the clock more often, anticipation bubbling just below the surface. He was ready early, his heart thrumming with excitement as he made his way back to his quarters. They’d planned to meet there—just the two of them, an arrangement that had quickly become a ritual on the rare occasions they both had the luxury of downtime. He paced his room, unable to sit still, a smile tugging at his lips as he imagined how the night would go. They’d share a quiet meal, maybe a drink or two, and just be together—no missions, no distractions, just them.

Then his phone vibrated in his hand. Price opened the message with a grin, expecting to see Nikolai’s usual playful greeting—only to feel his heart drop as he read the words on the screen.

John, I am sorry, my love. I will not make it in time. Got pulled into something last minute. I will make it up to you, I promise. Be safe. Love you, Mishka.

The excitement that had carried him through the day deflated, replaced by a heavy emptiness that settled deep in his chest. He stared at the message, rereading it as if somehow the words might change, as if maybe he’d misunderstood. But they didn’t change, and the ache that followed was sharp and immediate. He knew he should be fine with it. This wasn’t the first time duty had forced one of them to cancel plans, and he’d had to do it to Nikolai more times than he cared to admit. He knew the job always came first—had always come first. But somehow, the disappointment cut deeper today. Maybe because he’d let himself look forward to it so openly, maybe because he’d let himself believe that, for once, they’d have the time to themselves.

Price sighed, running a hand over his face, the freshly smoothed skin reminding him of the effort he’d put into this day, the way he’d hoped it would go. He tried to brush it off, tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, but the ache in his chest lingered. He’d wanted tonight to be special—not just for himself, but for Nikolai too. He’d wanted to give them both a moment to breathe, to remind each other why they kept fighting, kept coming back.

He let out a slow breath, pocketing his phone and trying to gather himself. There was no use dwelling on it—he’d see Nikolai soon enough, and they’d make up for the lost time as they always did. But the ache in his chest didn’t ease, not fully.

Price made his way to the rec room where the team were gathered around a table playing cards. The room was filled with the sound of their banter, the shuffle of cards, the occasional clatter of a mug being set down. Normally, it was a comforting noise, a reminder of the camaraderie they shared, but tonight it felt distant—like he was watching it all from the outside.

He started making a cup of tea, his hands moving on autopilot. The motions were familiar, almost comforting in their simplicity. As the kettle clicked, Gaz sidled up next to him, nudging him lightly. “Everything alright, Captain?”

Price forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Change of plans,” he said, shrugging. “Nikolai’s not gonna make it anymore. Duty calls.”

Gaz frowned, glancing back at Soap, who was already watching Price with a sympathetic look. “Why don’t you come out with us?” Soap suggested, his voice unusually soft. “Just for a bit. Make a night of it, yeah?”

Price shook his head, his smile faltering. “Appreciate it, lads. But I’ll just finish up some reports. Been putting them off anyway.” He tried to keep his tone light, but even he could hear the strain in it. The last thing he wanted was to be a burden, to bring down the mood. The disappointment was his to carry, and he’d manage it as he always did.

He watched as the others exchanged glances but didn’t press. There was a kind of understanding in their silence, an unspoken support that made Price’s chest tighten. They cared, in their own ways, and even if they couldn’t change anything, they were there, grounding him with their steady presence. It was enough—it had to be enough.

They let him go with a quiet nod, and Price slipped into his office, burying himself in paperwork to fill the time, to ease the ache he didn’t want to admit was there. He worked through reports, reviewed mission details, anything to keep his mind occupied, but the hours dragged, each tick of the clock a reminder of what he was missing. By the time he finally called it a night, the disappointment had settled into a dull, familiar ache. He knew he’d see Nikolai soon—knew they’d make up for the lost time as they always did. But tonight, there was no denying the ache of that missing presence, the empty space that seemed to echo louder than ever.

By the time he finally headed back to his quarters, he’d resigned himself to an evening alone, the carefully wrapped gift weighing heavier in his pocket. He paused outside his door, taking a slow breath before opening it. He knew it would be empty, knew he’d have to wait a little longer to see Nikolai, but still, a part of him hoped.

As he opened the door to his room, he froze. There, standing by the bed with a small, mischievous grin and a bouquet of wildflowers in hand, was Nikolai.

Price blinked, his heart leaping at the sight. For a second, he could only stare, his mind racing to catch up with reality. The exhaustion of the day, the disappointment he'd pushed down, all seemed to vanish in an instant. He blinked again, as if to make sure this wasn't some tired trick of his imagination. But no—there Nikolai stood, just as real as the ache in his chest had been moments before, now replaced by an overwhelming rush of warmth.

Nikolai’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he saw Price’s stunned expression. “Sorry I did not message you again, I was in a rush,” he said, stepping forward, his voice softening. “I had to see this…handsome Captain, I am sure you understand.” He winked, his grin widening as he took in Price’s carefully put-together appearance.

Price’s heart clenched with something fierce—relief, love, gratitude—all of it swelled up at once, nearly making his throat tighten. He let out a breathless laugh, his lips curving into a smile that he couldn’t contain. Slowly, he stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “You… how…?”

Nikolai closed the distance between them, the flowers still held loosely in one hand. “Did you really think I would miss this? Not when you put in this effort.” He reached out with his free hand, his fingers brushing against Price’s cheek, tracing the line of his freshly trimmed beard. “I’ve missed seeing you like this,” he added, his voice dropping to something more intimate, something just for Price.

For a long moment, Price could only stare, his heart swelling with relief and happiness as he took in the sight. Then, finally, he let out a quiet, breathless laugh, stepping forward and pulling Nikolai into a tight embrace. He buried his face in the crook of Nikolai’s neck, his voice muffled but thick with emotion. “You sneaky bastard.”

Nikolai laughed, his arms coming up around Price, holding him close. He pressed his face into Price’s shoulder, breathing him in, the familiar scent of cedar and sandalwood filling his senses. “Did you really think I would let you spend our anniversary alone?” he murmured against Price’s ear, his voice warm and gentle.

Price pulled back slightly, just enough to look Nikolai in the eyes. He could see the affection there, the sincerity in every line of Nikolai’s expression. It made his chest feel tight, and he swallowed hard, nodding. “No,” he said, his voice rough. “But I… I wasn’t expecting this.”

Nikolai smiled, lifting the bouquet between them. “I believe these are for you, Captain.”

Price chuckled, shaking his head as he took the flowers from Nikolai’s hand, brushing his fingers over the delicate petals. They were a little worse for wear, some petals bent, a few stems slightly bruised, but Price found it made them all the more perfect. They were real, just like this moment, like the man standing before him.

“Wildflowers, Nik?” Price asked, his voice laced with affection. “You know you didn’t have to…”

Nikolai’s smile softened, and he took a small step closer, his hand coming to rest on Price’s hip, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of his shirt. “No trouble, my love. Besides, I think they suit you. Strong, resilient… beautiful.”

Heat rose to Price’s face, and he looked away, huffing out a laugh. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

Nikolai came up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist, pressing his face into the side of Price’s neck. He took a deep breath, his voice rumbling softly against Price’s skin. “Only for you.” He pulled away slightly, just enough to spin Price around to face him instead. He pressed a kiss to Price’s lips—soft, lingering, full of all the words they didn’t need to say.

When he pulled back, Nikolai’s eyes were gleaming with mischief, and he whispered, “I cannot wait to unwrap my gift,” his gaze running up and down Price’s form, appreciation evident in his eyes.

Price chuckled, shaking his head. “Not quite,” he said, his tone teasing. He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small box there. “…or at least not yet,” he added quietly, holding it out to Nikolai. “I… I got you something.”

Nikolai’s eyes softened as he took the gift, his gaze flicking up to meet Price’s before he carefully unwrapped it. The wrapping was simple—Price hadn’t been one for extravagant touches—but it had been done with care, and that was what made it special. Nikolai peeled back the paper, revealing the small box within. He opened it slowly, and the soft click of the pocket watch filled the quiet room.

A look of quiet awe crossed Nikolai's face as he took in the pocket watch, its metal glinting in the soft light. He ran his thumb across the engraved initials on the inside, his eyes taking in every detail. There was a pause, a moment where the world seemed to still around them, and then Nikolai looked up, meeting Price’s gaze with an expression so full of love it made Price’s breath catch.

“John…” His voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion as he ran his thumb over the watch’s surface again. He looked back at the initials, tracing them gently. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice cracking just slightly.

Price felt his heart swell, the weight of the day’s disappointment finally lifting as he reached out, his fingers brushing against Nikolai’s. The warmth of Nikolai’s skin under his fingertips grounded him, the way it always did. He smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Only the best for you, Nik.”

Nikolai took a deep breath, his gaze flicking back down to the watch, his thumb still tracing the initials. He closed the watch with a soft click, slipping it carefully back into its box before he looked back up at Price. “I will keep it with me always,” he said, his voice still thick with emotion, his eyes meeting Price’s. “Wherever I go, a piece of you comes with me.”

Price swallowed, feeling his throat tighten as he nodded. He couldn’t find the words to respond, not properly, so instead, he took a step forward, pulling Nikolai into another embrace. This one was different from the last—slower, more deliberate. He wrapped his arms around Nikolai’s shoulders, burying his face in the crook of Nikolai’s neck, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The weight of command, the responsibilities, the expectations—all of it faded, leaving just the two of them, wrapped up in each other.

After a long moment, Price pulled back, just enough to press a gentle kiss to Nikolai’s temple. When he finally let go, Nikolai smiled, a playful glint returning to his eyes. He reached into the bag he’d set by the bed, producing a small, aged bottle of whiskey. Its amber hue gleamed in the soft light as Nikolai held it up between them. “I did not come empty-handed either,” he murmured, his voice laced with that familiar warmth. “Thought we could have a proper toast, my love.”

Price’s face softened as he looked at the bottle, recognising the label immediately. It was the same whiskey they’d shared once before—on another night, one that had felt just as full of quiet understanding and love. He met Nikolai’s gaze, touched by the small gesture. “You remembered,” he said, his voice quiet.

Nikolai’s smile softened. “Of course I remembered.” He stepped closer, nudging Price gently toward the small table by the bed. “Now, let us toast properly, hm?” He poured a couple of inches into each glass, handing one to Price before raising his own. His gaze settled on Price, warm and unwavering. “To all our years, past and future, but there could never be enough time with you.”

Price felt a grin break across his face as he raised his glass, his heart swelling with a rush of affection. He clinked his glass to Nikolai’s, the soft sound filling the quiet room, and took a sip. The warmth of the whiskey spread through him, soothing the edges of the day, and he felt the tension that had lingered melt away completely.

They moved to sit on the edge of the bed, shoulders brushing as they savoured their drinks, the silence between them comfortable, filled with a quiet kind of joy. Price leaned into Nikolai slightly, their legs touching, the warmth of his partner grounding him in a way that nothing else could. He let out a content sigh, his gaze drifting down to where their hands rested side by side on the bed.

Nikolai seemed to notice the direction of his gaze, and with a soft smile, he set his glass down on the nightstand before reaching over, taking Price’s hand in his. He laced their fingers together, his thumb brushing lightly across Price’s knuckles in a slow, soothing motion.

Price turned to look at him, his chest tightening with emotion. There were so many things he wanted to say, but as he met Nikolai’s eyes, he realised he didn’t need to. Everything he felt, everything he wanted to say, was already there in the way Nikolai looked at him, in the way he held his hand, in the warmth of his touch.

Slowly, Nikolai leaned in, his forehead resting gently against Price’s. “I love you, John,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the words were just for the two of them and no one else.

Price closed his eyes, his heart swelling with a warmth that filled every part of him. He squeezed Nikolai’s hand gently, his voice equally soft as he replied, “I love you too, Nik. More than anything.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their foreheads resting together, their hands intertwined, the world outside forgotten. There was no rush, no need to move or speak. Everything they needed was right there, in the quiet space between them, in the love they shared.

When they finally pulled back, Nikolai grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief once more. He nudged Price gently, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Can I still unwrap you?”

Price let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he pulled Nikolai closer, their noses brushing. “Not arguing with that,” he replied, his voice low and affectionate.

Nikolai’s grin widened, and he leaned in, capturing Price’s lips in a kiss that was soft and slow, filled with the promise of everything still to come. Price melted into it, his arms wrapping around Nikolai’s waist, his heart full to the brim.

In that quiet, stolen moment, everything felt right. The world outside could wait a little longer; tonight, this was all they needed.

[storiesabouteli]

Eli's gurl // Elijah Hewson X SingleMom!Reader (Fluff)

prompt: Violet had a minor accident, and Eli is there to calm her down, even though he's dead worried for her.

words: 1,8K

a/n: It's a strange trope, I admit, but I love writing kids, and I'm stressed, so this will happen again. Plus, Eli would be deffo super protective dad of a lil girl. (Yep, I'm running out of inspo too).

Your hands were cold, and you remembered your mother, your mind quickly recalling the need for bandages when you got hurt as a child. You hated that—when something bad happened and adrenaline only made it feel worse. But this time, something felt serious than usual. When Elijah called, you were just about to wrap up a meeting. His voice was shaky, and you could picture his nervous fingers ruffling his hair. This naturally made you uneasy. As you asked questions, he seemed to grow even more unsettled. Finally, it was clear that you’d need to pick them up from the hospital.

A tight knot formed in your throat, tension heavy in the air. The search for a parking spot felt endless, and parallel parking turned into one of the worst experiences of your life. Feeling how stiff your body had become, you leaned back in the seat, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. Gradually, your mind slowed as you thought of how Eli always knew how to calm her, whether she was in pain, nervous, or sleepy. She would hold his index finger in her small hand and rest her freckled face against his chest, seeking comfort. He had a way of making her feel heard and special, and you found yourself loving him even more each time you saw these moments. This brief thought offered some relief; after all, you trusted him.

Violet wasn’t biologically his, yet Eli treated her as if she were. It took you a while to introduce her to him, something he always understood, knowing how important it was for you. You’d been alone with her for quite some time, and although you’d tried dating a few times, there was a mental gap between your post-Vee body changes and the emotional and physical baggage that came with having her by your side. You didn’t regret it, but it was true—you couldn’t hold onto someone when your responsibilities were the very ones people your age often avoided. Not that they shouldn’t, of course; you understood that choice well. But you did start to think about opening up to someone again. You wanted to try, to feel the thrill of having someone who truly wanted you. When Eli came along, you were cautious, though you liked him right from the start. A long conversation unfolded at a show you’d attended without much expectation, and initially, you avoided the topic, wanting to enjoy his attention. But as your time together grew, you eventually told him about Violet, and he didn’t pull away.

The scene before you was all too familiar: Vee, with a pouting face, clung tightly to Eli’s shirt, while his warm, caramel eyes showed his worry. The room, painted in soft shades of blue, had small animal drawings on the walls, and the table held sterilized thick needles and thread. Elijah appeared even more tense than Violet.

"Look at me, it’s okay, little one," he whispered gently, holding her close and doing his best to comfort her. His eyes were red and misted over as they met her pained gaze, tears welling up in response to hers.

She intertwined her fingers in his shirt tighter and closed her eyes; his voice remained soft, just like the hand resting tenderly on her shoulder. “You’re very brave,” he murmured with a comforting accent. That brought a faint smile to your face. As the doctor stepped back, Vee noticed you standing there. “Mommy?!” Eli looked at you, visibly more at ease, and you nodded at him before going over to kiss your little one. Her eyes were small and tired, and you let her curl up in your arms. “How are you feeling?” you asked. She rested her cheek against your shoulder, carefully avoiding touching the bandage, and nodded. “Good. I cried a lot, but El was right—it didn’t hurt that much, and I feel better now that it’s over,” she said in small pauses, choosing her words just like Eli did, which you found so endearing. He usually laughed at this, but this time, concern overshadowed his usual smile.

“I want to go home, please?” Vee whimpered. As soon as she asked, you looked over at Eli, and he nodded, suggesting you go ahead to the car while he picked up the medications she’d need. His brief words and downcast eyes hinted at a sense of guilt, so you agreed to wait for him. You hated the thought that he might see her as his responsibility.

You stood beside her, gently holding her chair and placing your jacket behind her head to keep it steady. “Want me to drive, love?” You rubbed his shoulders, and though distracted, he turned to catch a kiss from you. “She’s okay,” you said when he confirmed he was fine with you driving. He let out a heavy sigh, as if about to say, “But what if…” in protest, but he held back.

The drive home was quick, and now and then, he glanced at the two of you in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t deny that seeing your gentle smile made him feel more at ease. Once you were inside, with Vee resting in his arms, he finally let out what had been weighing on him. “I let her fall off the playset,” he admitted, looking down at her with a mixture of guilt and sadness pressing in his chest. “I was watching, you know? Thought it’d be good to give her some independence but stayed close. I tried to catch her before she fell, but… it just didn’t work.”

You listened carefully, sensing the tension in his voice. He placed her on the bed, gently untangling her fingers from his shirt. “We won’t be able to protect her forever, El. It’s important she learns that too,” you said, arranging blankets around the bed to keep her safe while she rested. She lay there peacefully, her hair tousled, the haircut a try of her attempt to look more like Eli. He was certain that you were the voice of reason. Her eyes were a bit swollen from crying, and you smiled to yourself, feeling a mix of tenderness and quiet pride. Eli was a solid figure in her life.

"I’m afraid she might think I won’t be able to help her when she needs it, that she won’t trust me. I don’t like the feeling of not having stopped something bad from happening to her," he said in a low breath, his eyes distant and not meeting yours, and you felt the knot in your throat.

"Don’t say that," you disagreed, walking over to him, standing on your tiptoes as you used your fingers to wipe away his tears. "Do you realize that your concern about this makes you the best person she could have?" His shoulders softened, his eyes gaining a bit of light, still searching for the right words.

"Are you mad or upset?" The tip of his nose touched yours, his hair tickling you. He was a fool, worrying too much.

"Of course not, if I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be near my daughter, especially alone." He laughed, allowing you to hug him. Still, she felt the need to add, "She’s not your responsibility, and yet you treat her so well." You said that sometimes, and Eli found himself wondering how people judged you for it, and it hurt a little to see how much it weighed on you, no matter what he said. But he was still there, you’d have to get used to it.

He kissed your forehead, happy with how your face nestled into his chest, the pleasant scent finally allowing him to breathe without a heavy heart. "She’s a sweetheart, so much like you. I love her. I enjoy being with her." That relaxed you, even though you had heard it before, something broken inside you still made it feel like the first time. Eli would repeat it as many times as needed.

"I don’t like seeing her hurt or knowing she’s scared, but it’s not like I think it’s your fault, I know it wasn’t. Kids are unpredictable, and she trusts you so much that won’t change now. In that room, she was so focused on you, on your voice and your calmness—which I know you were acting—making her know everything would be fine." He hadn’t thought about it that way, but he realized it was true.

He was afraid that Vee might be upset with him in some way, but everything, as you said, pointed to the fact that she wasn't. "But you can talk to her tomorrow, what do you think? You can tell her how you feel, and let her know she can count on you when she needs you, because you'll always be there for her, uh?" He nodded, it seemed like a good idea. It was funny to think that all he needed was to talk to you, for his mind to calm down and for things to make sense. It was like that in many areas of his life.

His nose brushed against your neck, and he kissed the spot, followed by your face. You hugged him tighter. "I love you – so much." He sighed, and you could feel that he was less worried. "I love you too." His lips touched yours, and he lightly laughed at the salty taste.

"Do you want to eat something? What did you have for lunch?" You tried to break the melancholic mood. "I didn’t really have lunch, though I made Vee eat while we were waiting at the hospital, and she made me eat some of the sandwiches I made for her." He saw you bite your lip, and there was a silent understanding between you, which made him not have to mention how much Vee was like you. Besides, it only confirmed what you had already said; he was good for her.

"Alright, we’ll eat now, before you go crazy without nutrients in your body." His laugh was casual, and it felt good to see him well.

The next morning, still groggy, trying to avoid getting up, you heard Violet’s voice speaking softly to him. When you opened your eyes, you saw them both by your side, her little hands on Eli’s cheeks, counting his freckles with her fingertips, gently feeling his beard as he held back a smile.

"It’s okay, I insisted on going down the slide by myself, but you were still there with me." She rested her face on his chest, and he kissed her head multiple times. She stretched her hand toward you when she saw you waking up, holding yours. "Good morning, mommy." Seeing her happy made you happy too.

It was so good to have them both. The bandage this time was pink, and you cursed yourself a little for missing Eli’s interaction with her while he treated her wound. She jumped into your arms, hugging you tightly, and he looked at you with shining eyes and a gentle expression that said, "You were right, and I was way too worried for no reason."

[existence-is-overrated]

The Dear England cast 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

thoughts?!!!

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ BETTER THAN YOUR BOYFRIEND! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...what happens when your boyfriend cheats on you and you look towards your best friend for help

INFO...jjk men (toji, gojo, geto, nanami) x fem!reader, reader gets cheated on, riding, sending a video to your ex, oral (f!receiving), car sex, kinda cute/some fluff in the beginning, pet names (doll, princess, baby, sweetheart), creampie, possessiveness, choking, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

ᯓ★ TOJI

When you showed up on Toji’s doorstep in the middle of the night with tears pouring down your face he was more than ready to kill whoever made your cry. He wasn’t surprised when you told him your shitty boyfriend had cheated on you and not with just one girl but multiple. Toji never liked your boyfriend, he could tell that guy was up no to good from the start, reading him like a book. He’d be sure to beat the shit out of him once he helped you gain composure.

“I’m sorry for showing up so late,” you hiccuped as he wiped your tears.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. You know I’m always here for you.” He gave you a soft smile. Toji hated to see you this way, you were too pretty to be crying over some guy who looked like he crawled from the sewers. “That guy was a piece of shit. You deserve better.”

“But, every guy I’ve been with or tried to be with has done me so wrong!” It only made more tears spill from your eyes. Toji engulfed you in a hug, rubbing your back. “Toji?” You sniffled.

“Yeah?” He pulled away from you, wiping your tears again.

“Kiss me. Right now,” you demanded. You had to see for yourself if what you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks was absolutely true. Toji had zero clue, but you’ve been thinking about him way too much, more than a best friend should, feeling more than a best friend should. And when he planted his lips on yours, cupping your face, kissing you like a starved man, you didn’t quite expect your tears of sadness to be turned into tears of pleasure.

“Nnngh, Toji!” You moaned, his fat tip rubbing against your g-spot with each thrust of his hips. Your arms clung around his neck, fingers resting in his black silky hair.

“Can’t—mmm, fuck—believe he’d cheat on you! His fucking loss!” He growled in your ear, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, hugging you close to him. Your pussy clenched down around him, milking him for his every worth, juices dripping down his length and onto his balls. “So tight, doll—oh shit!” He grunted. Lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room, echoing off the walls around you. “Been wanting you forever, craving you.”

Your brows furrow in pleasure, barely able to contain your moans as you and Toji stare into each others eyes. “M-me too!” You whimper, nodding your head at him. You lips messily interlock, tongue gliding against one another, swallowing each others moans.

“Let’s show him what he’s missing, baby.” He smirks, reaching for your phone on the couch. His thrusts come to a stop, clicking on your now ex boyfriend’s contact and opening the camera to record a video. “Go nice and slow for me,” he says huskily.

Slowly, you move your hips up and down his thick shaft, whimpering when you feel him throb against your walls. Toji angles the camera up, a devious look in his eye. He moves it back down when you start to move faster, you sloppy pussy squelching when you slam your hips down on his. Toji slaps your ass a few times before grabbing it, guiding your hips to go slower once again. “That’s it, doll. Good fucking girl,” he lowly chuckles in your ear. Toji ends the video, sending it and tossing the phone to the side.

“I can’t believe we actually did that,” you giggle, biting down on your lip. Not even one minute passed before your phone began ringing, vibrating on the couch but you were too busy getting your brains fucked out to even notice. “Ah, you’re so deep,” you mewl, the curve of his dick making your back arch.

“Better get used to it cause we won’t be stopping anytime soon.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, sloppily thrusting into your poor pussy. “You’re my girl now.” He’s slamming your hips back down on his cock, fucking you deeply, making sure every inch of him is coated in your juices. He quickly pulls out, jerking his cock before thick globs of cum coat your skin before he’s inserting himself back inside your dripping entrance. Neither of you noticing the five missed calls and fifteen unread texts from your ex.

ᯓ★ GOJO

As soon as you called Gojo crying, he basically teleported to your house. When he learned that your boyfriend had cheated on you and you kicked him out, he was the least bit shocked. For the past month you’ve told Gojo that your boyfriend has been acting off, and finally the truth came to light.

“I’m so sorry,” he frowned, rubbing the top of your head as you cried into his chest. It hurt Gojo to see you like this, constantly seeing you get hurt by these shitty guys who didn’t know any better. He had a massive crush on for the longest time and he’s always been afraid to say anything. He’d treat you better, treat you the way you’ve always deserved.

“I just don’t it, Toru! Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You frowned.

“No, no! It’s not you all! You’re absolutely perfect. He’s a fucking asshole for not seeing that sooner. You’re kind, funny, smart, and beautiful. You’re everyone’s dream girl, y/n.” It may have sounded like he was only trying to be nice, but in reality he was speaking from his heart.

“Awe, Toru, thank you,” you giggled through your tears. Gojo looked at you few seconds, the most sincere expression written on his face.

So how, in only a few minutes, did he make you go from giggling to moaning like bitch in heat?

“Feel better, princess?” He mumbles against your cunt, sucking on your swollen and sensitive clit. “Please tell me you feel better,” he whines.

“Toru—mmph! What’s—ah! Oh my god!” He slides his long, slender fingers into your sopping hole, pumping them in and out, curling them up slightly. Your jaw falls slack at the way his tongue expertly explores your folds, licking up every last drop of your essence. Your hand clings to his fluffy white hair, his hands pushing your legs open each time they threat to close around his head.

“Taste so good, princess. Just like I imagined—mmm,” he moans at your delectable taste, ignoring the way your squirming in his hold and clenching around his fingers as your second orgasm approaches. His captivating eyes flutter open to look at you, watching the way you lose yourself on his tongue. He could tell your boyfriend—ex boyfriend has never pleasured you like this before, let alone made you cum.

“Fuck!” You gasp. “Feels so good—hah, shit! Toruuu!” You cry out, legs quivering when the tip of his tongue runs back and forth over your clit.

“Promise me something, yeah?” He moves his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole slowly, bringing you right on the edge. “Be mine? I’ll treat you so good, princess. Been wanting to for the longest time, god, you’re so fucking perfect. Please?” He presses soft kisses to your thighs that make your breath hitch.

“You’re confessing now?!” You chuckle, trying to catch your breath.

Gojo smiles up at you. “Is that a yes?” He quirks a brow. He presses the pads of his fingers against your g-spot massaging slowly.

“Ah,” you bite down on your lip, “you’re no fair!” You run your fingers through his hair. “It’s a yessssuhh.” You’re barely able to get the word out before he dips his head between your legs again, his wet tongue circling your clit. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m cumming again!” Your head is thrown back as your entire body shakes with pleasure.

“Thank you, princess,” Gojo murmurs.

ᯓ★ NANAMI

Nanami noticed you haven’t been yourself for the past couple of days and he didn’t dare to ask but he had a feeling it had something to do with that obnoxious and egotistical boyfriend of yours. It always had something to do with him no matter what. He didn’t think of it when you asked him if you can come over and watch a movie, but not even five minutes in the door you start explaining everything. You didn’t cry, just talked and talked about it, venting about the situation. He was glad to be an ear. He’ll always be here to help.

“I’m just so frustrated and I hate feeling this way!” You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe you need to deal with it in other ways rather than venting,” he suggested.

“Like what? Drinking my problems away? I’d rather not.” You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal.

What didn’t cross your mind was the fact your best friend was talking about having you bent over, fucking you into the mattress. “K-Ken! F-fuck!” Your eyes squeeze shut when he thrusts his hips harder, the tip of his swollen cock pressing into your sweet spot.

His thick fingers squeeze into your plush skin, pulling you back onto his cock. He leans over next to your ear, breath fanning against your skin sweaty skin. “He doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. Not like I do.” He peppers kisses down your back, a contrast of you screaming his name.

Your walls squeeze around him at his words, your pussy somehow growing wetter than it already was, creating a sloppy and sticky mess where you two met. Your hands grasped the sheets below. “Yes, Ken, handle me, show me you can handle me!” You grit your teeth, looking back at him.

A feral growl escapes his throat, blonde hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. He reaches a hand down, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushes your head into the mattress, the sound of skin to skin slapping against each other growing constant as he fucks your hard and deep with such a grueling pace. “I can handle you, sweetheart,” he chuckles deeply. “Better than your boyfriend.” He licks his lips.

“Mmm—ah, yes!” You laugh with a smile. “Ex.” You’re quick to correct.

“Who gives a fuck what he is—hah, shit, sweetheart, gripping me so damn tight.” He’s so focused on the way your ass ripples against his hips, addicted to how warm and wet your cunt is. It was hypnotizing. Your jaw hung open, eyes rolled back, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth and onto the bed below you. Each rut of his hips had you going stupid, barely able to think.

Successfully, you can say that his method of dealing with your problems has worked better than you could’ve imagined. “Feel so good inside me! Don’t stop!” You cry out, voice wavering. The stretch of his cock against your gummy walls had you craving more. So much more to the point you wanted to feel all of him. “Cum in me.” You’re bitting down your lip so hard you’re afraid you’ll draw blood.

Those three words have Nanami’s eyes wide in excitement. His body runs hot, your words making the blood rush straight to his pulsating cock. “D-don’t say stuff—mmph—like that,” he grunts.

“I thought you could handle me?” You’re smirking, playing with fire. His rough hands grip onto your hips harder, hard enough to leave bruises. Each thrust of his ragged hips shoots bolts of pleasure through your core.

His brows furrow in concentration, grunts and growls mixing in with your moans as his abs tense up, body jolting forward as his sloppily thrusts into your greedy hole. “I can handle you better than anyone else and you know it!” His hand swats your ass, a loud smack cracking in the air. “Nngh, shit!” Before he knows it, his tip kisses your cervix, pulling you back on his cock as his hot cum paints your walls.

ᯓ★ GETO

When you told Geto about your boyfriend cheating on you, he knew you’d needed to be comforted despite what you said. So he planned a day just for you to do your favorite things in attempts to take your mind off of things, but he could see that you were still thinking about it deep down. The both of you sat in the car, watching over the city lights while music quietly played on the radio. The orange sunset casted a hue over the world, shining brightly.

“I’m sorry I just can’t get it out of my head.” You pout, fiddling with your fingers. “I appreciate you doing this, Suguru.”

“Of course, y/n. It’s the least I could do.” He gave a half smile, caressing your back.

“It just keeps replaying over and over in my head,” you shut your eyes, “I hate it. Nothing takes my mind off of it no matter what!” You ran your hand over your face, slouching in the passenger seat.

“Well, there’s something we haven’t tried yet.” Geto raised a brow, shrugging his shoulders.

“What?” You asked, confused.

Minutes later your knees are to your chest, the sheer force of his hips rocking your body into the seat of the car. Strands from his messy bun cling to his forehead, sweat dripping between the divots of his abs. His calloused hand presses down on your lower abdomen, the pad of his thumb reaching down to rub your neglected clit. “Sugu!” You cry out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

The car shakes with his feral and animalistic thrusts, the curve of his cock finding your sweet spot, knocking the breath out of you. You’re panting and gasping, clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” His lips quirk up into a smirk, his hand reaching out, slipping his fingers into your mouth to suck on. “Let it all go for me.” He moves at a rapid pace, your eyes rolling back and your body going limp, hands falling to your sides.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, his hands gliding down to your throat, fingers ghosting over your skin before he carefully wraps his hand around it, gripping it firmly. “I’ll make you forget everything about him. You want that, don’t you? Fill that pretty little head of yours with nothing else but me.” His sultry words send shivers down your spine. A devilish chuckle escapes from him when he feels you flutter around his throbbing length. “Nnngh,” he plants a wet kiss on your jaw, “cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m cumming!” You scream, eyes widening at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “Yes, yes!” You squeal, legs shaking as he continues to rub your clit, dragging every last bit of your orgasm out of you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass at a rough pace, threatening to spill his seed inside of you. “Want to mark you, show that asshole who you’ve always belonged to!” Sinful eyes stare back at you.

Fat tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m yours! I’m y-yours! Ahh!” He puts more pressure on your clit, your body jolting, squirming beneath him.

“Hah, fuck, baby!” He moans, jaw falling open as he tosses his head back. He clenches his jaw, grunting as he keeps the same fervent tempo. He watches the way your filthy pussy clings to him so tightly, your juices forming a ring at the base of his cock, creating a sticky, slimy mess. His thrusts grow hasty, hungry for his orgasm, itching to see you coated in his cum.

He bullies his cock into your cunt, snarling and moaning at how rapidly his orgasm was nearing. He pulled out of you with a drawn out moan and instinctively your soft hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him until you felt warm cum drip onto your stomach.

[writingsbychlo]

BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy

summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.

word count; 8928

notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?

Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction. 

Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat. 

“Good day?”

“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”

“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations. 

A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”

Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.” 

He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there. 

“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.

“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?” 

The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official. 

You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment. 

It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games. 

Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”

Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time. 

Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either. 

“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”

Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”

“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics. 

You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.

“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side. 

“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised. 

The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you. 

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”

The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.

The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over. 

You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.

“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”

“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you. 

A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.

Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.

The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room. 

Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests. 

Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled. 

The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one. 

You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it. 

“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.” 

She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately. 

“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had. 

“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of. 

He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white. 

You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness. 

“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her. 

“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”

Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you. 

Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;

“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”

Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you. 

“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return. 

“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye. 

“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes. 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go. 

“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath. 

“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”

He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.

The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you. 

He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.

Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass. 

He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course. 

As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate. 

Men did love a little attention, after all. 

Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.

You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.

“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.

As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”

“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down. 

“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar. 

“It is, I think.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere. 

When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”

You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”

“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”

“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.

“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”

“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.

“The theatre, then?”

Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”

“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”

“And you, Elliot.”

Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed. 

You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.

You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch. 

As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone. 

To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through. 

He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat. 

His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low. 

Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover. 

Until, Theo spoke up. 

“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.

“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.

“When?”

“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you. 

“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”

“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”

“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”

“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”

Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”

“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”

“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”

“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.

You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth. 

“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”

You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from. 

You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair. 

“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”

Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend. 

“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.

Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after. 

Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know. 

It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”

“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”

Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one. 

“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”

“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”

Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk. 

You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return. 

“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”

“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”

He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”

“That is up to your cousin.”

“Touché.”

You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing. 

He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night. 

As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”

“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”

“He’s not even here to listen!”

“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”

A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. 

“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered. 

Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”

“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”

It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you. 

“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment. 

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”

You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.” 

You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them. 

“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”

Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…” 

Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away. 

“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.

Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. 

You’d spoken to Draco’s parents. 

They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment. 

It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”

“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.” 

Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”

The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”

Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps. 

It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”

“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”

His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…

“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.

“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”

He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”

“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”

“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.

When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye. 

“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”

“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together. 

“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”

Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you. 

“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features. 

“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all. 

“‘We’?”

“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news. 

“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”

“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more. 

“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”

“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted. 

“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.

“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”

“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”

You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats. 

Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left. 

“Where are we going, Dray?” 

“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice. 

Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food. 

The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face. 

“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”

“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”

He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile. 

“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”

“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow. 

“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”

His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”

“You never gave me any other indication!” 

“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”

The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side. 

Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.

“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”

“Yes. I told her days ago.” 

“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”

As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”

“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”

“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”

“Blaise.”

“The bracelet?”

“Theo and the Notts.” 

At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”

“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”

“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Dray.” 

He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Damian is de-aged to a baby and lost in Gotham. A magic user hit him with some kind of spell. His legs don’t work as well and he has trouble walking. That’s when a man appears and squats down with a tilt of his head.

“Yea, you are definitely not supposed to be out here, little guy.”

Damian glares at the man, early twenties, stubble along his jaw, ragged clothes, and dark bags under his eyes.

The man turns his head to look at the brick wall.

“Are you sure?”

And now he was talking to a wall. Curses. Of course he would be found by a crazy person.

The man suddenly hangs his head with a deep sigh. He regains himself quickly and stands. Moving closer to put his hands under Damian arms to lift him to perch on his hip.

Damian squirms to get down but refuses to make a sound. The last time he opened his mouth like this it was a pathetic baby sound. He couldn’t let this man see him like this.

“Looks like you’re coming home with me, little guy. I can tell you’ve got some spirit in you. Good, you’ll need it.”

Not ominous at all.

Damian stays with the man, mostly because he couldn’t physically drive a car, but also because he was almost always with him. The man would talk to air at the most random times. Obviously a schizophrenic. But Damian had to admit this man, Danny he comes to find out through a neighbor baby talking at him, has been genuinely trying to take care of him and take care of him well. Well, to the best of his abilities anyway. 

He feeds him organic purées that don’t taste half bad, except the carrots, that one was unacceptable. Danny cleans him regularly despite his crappy apartment and makes sure he is dressed appropriately for the weather. He makes an effort to take him out to the park to play in the sandbox or just walk around discovering ‘new’ things.

Damian doesn’t need a parent, he outgrew the concept when he was five and technically he already had one, but he could tell Danny would make an excellent father. Some mistakes can be overlooked compared to the effort he was putting in.

The only concerning thing was the talking to thin air. It took Damian an embarrassing amount of time to figure out the reason Danny was visiting all these random people and the graveyard. (Sometimes he will set Damian down to ‘play’ in the grass at the cemetery. It was quite odd.)

He was talking to ghosts. It wasn’t thin air or imaginary friends, no it was actually dead people. The reason Damian actually believes this is for two reasons.

One, Danny shows true results. Damian observes closely whenever they visit a ‘client’ and Danny always has accurate information despite never looking up or researching anything going in.

Two, he never calls himself a medium or psychic. He doesn’t boast about his ability to see ghosts. He does what he does to help the ghosts move on to the other side. Closure is what Danny always says. Closure for the family and the victim. In Gotham, there are a lot of victims.

Damian adjusts to his new life with Danny. It’s been five months and he’s getting used to being small and vulnerable. He’s allowed to be messy and whiny and childish. Danny never scolds him like Mother did. The man has never hit him or raised his voice at him and never expects anything from him. He encourages his progression to speak and walk, but doesn’t expect the best out of him.

It’s… nice. A good break if anything.

They are at the park when one of the bats spot him and pauses. Danny is blowing bubbles into the air and Damian tries to pop as many as he can. It’s a silly game with no clear rules, but Damian finds it entertaining nonetheless.

“Hi there! Is he yours?”

Dick Grayson wears a bright smile, but Damian can see the tightness around his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, yea, this is Damian,” Danny answers.

He had written it with the wooden blocks Danny had given him one week in. Danny took one look at the name on the ground, laughed loudly and ran with it.

“Do you mind if I say hi? He’s so cute.”

Danny looks puzzled by the request but ends up shrugging his shoulders, not seeing a problem with letting a stranger get close to Damian. (Damian knew Danny’s intense eyes were watching Dick’s every move. He was very protective like that.)

“Sure.”

Dick squats down to search Damian’s green eyes. Damian stares back just as intensely.

“Hey there, Damian. My name is Dick.”

Damian gives him a flat look at Dick’s terrible introduction.

“Grayson.”

Although with his little baby teeth not fully in it sounds more like ‘way-shah’.

Relief flashes across Dick’s face and he gives Damian a reassuring smile. It’s not as reassuring at he thinks it is. It promises to bring him home and restore him to his original age. Damian doesn’t know if that’s what he wants anymore.

Dick stands and gives Danny some imaginary excuse to leave quickly. Damian watches him go and so does Danny.

“Funny guy, huh Dami?”

Damian doesn’t respond and Danny notices his change in mood.

“Come here, little guy.”

He knows what Danny is going to do and willingly goes. He is pulled up into the man’s lap and held between two surprisingly muscular arms. Danny’s hugs are nice and warm. They aren’t too tight like Dick’s nor are they stiff like Bruce’s. He never thought he could enjoy human contact, but Danny has been showing him things about himself he didn’t ever know. Turns out he does like hugs and playing airplane and when Danny runs his fingers through his hair when he’s really sleepy.

“Let’s go home a little early today, huh? I’ll make spaghetti and you can be as messy as you want,” Danny promises.

Damian hums. Yes, that sounds nice.

That night Batman comes in through the window. Damian is waiting.

“Damian,” Batman whispers.

“Bah-mun.”

The flat, unamused stare is what gives him away.

Batman lets out a breath silently and reaches into the crib Danny had gotten him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Batman jerks into action, twisting to face Danny who had appeared suddenly. The door behind him is still closed.

Batman stays quiet, silently studying the man before him dressed in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.

Danny tilts his head as he does the same. Damian has never seen the man so serious. He silently worries for the man. He didn’t want him getting hurt to unnecessarily protecting him from his father.

“I’d have to break your arm if you tried to do what it looks like you’re doing.”

Danny says it so plainly. So simple.

Batman straightens.

“He isn’t yours.”

He doesn’t say Damian is his. He doesn’t claim him as his own. Just that Danny shouldn’t have him.

Damian silently agrees because technically he’s right. He doesn’t deserve Danny. He can’t keep playing house like he’s an actual baby. But Damian is also selfish and over the last few months has been taught that it’s okay to ask for things he wants even if it’s not inherently beneficial. The stuffed dog he sleeps with every night is proof of that.

So Damian says nothing.

“He is now,” Danny answers simply like there was no other answer to such a statement.

“He needs to go back to where he belongs.”

“Over my dead body,” is the immediate response.

They stare each other down until Danny scoffs.

“Don’t think I’m not petty enough to fight you, Batman. I’ll fight anyone who wants to take him from me. Damian is mine.”

When Batman tries to forcibly take him, he ends up with a concussion, a blood nose, and two broken arms. Red Robin finds him in a dumpster the next morning.

The story continues with Damian learning how to be a child his age, Danny protecting him and doting on his brilliant son, and the Batfam’s frequent failed attempts to kidnap Damian back to them.