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thoughtfulfiction · 2 days ago

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While We’re Young

Author’s note: Anon requested, Hope you all enjoy!

“Wait,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence in the car. You twisted one of your hoodie strings around your finger, tightening your grip on it and staring at Justin as if the realization had just crashed into you. “What if they don’t like me?”

Justin glanced over, his brows furrowing before his expression softened. His hand found its place on your thigh, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern through the fabric of your leggings. You were convinced that his soothing touch could change lives. “They’re going to love you,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t even a question. “My mom’s already planning to interrogate you about your favorite foods so she can cook for you. That’s her love language.”

You wanted to believe him, but your mind was already racing. “I mean, what if they think I’m not good enough for you? Or—oh god—what if I say something stupid and embarrass myself? Bad first impressions are impossible to recover from, and if this doesn't go the way we hope…” You trailed off, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

At the next stoplight, Justin leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “First of all, you couldn’t embarrass yourself even if you tried. And second, I’ve seen you charm complete strangers. My family doesn’t stand a chance.”

Despite his confidence, your nerves didn’t fully settle. “Thanks, babe,” you murmured, managing a small smile. “But what am I supposed to do with the next thirteen hours? That’s so much time for me to go through worse case scenarios.”

“And to make me listen to your Sad Girl playlist,” Justin switched gears to remind you, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed, connecting your phone to his car’s Bluetooth, taking a break from your negative self-talk. The opening chords of your favorite melancholic ballad filled the car as you leaned back in your seat.

Justin groaned dramatically but didn’t complain. Instead, he reached over to squeeze your hand, the warmth of his skin a quiet and comforting reassurance that you’d carry with you all the way to Eugene.

The fact that he was bringing you was a big deal already but to know that he’d only really done this a couple times made you feel special. Even if he didn’t really say it, he was falling for you just as much as you were falling for him.

Justin pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “are you hungry at all? Because I’m thinking about stopping somewhere. I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, lunch sounds good. I think I saw a Wingstop sign towards this next exit but I can look it up.”

You opted to sit in the car and eat, giving him a long winded breakdown of what you wanted to do and see in Eugene.

“I want the works. Walk me down memory lane. And definitely take me to Nike. It honestly feels illegal not to go to a Nike store where it all started. I’m sure you’re looking to add to your endless collection anyway.” You note with a laugh. If Nike made suits, he'd definitely be first in line.

He gave you a pointed look. “It was an endless collection until I met and started dating a thief. Do you know how many of my sweatshirts I found in your closet this morning while helping you pack? I was looking for the purple one for weeks.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your fries, swapping spots with him after lunch so he could take a break from driving. “Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault your clothes are so big and they smell like you. Anytime you’re gone I just throw one on and it’s like you’re always with me.”

“Nice save…Catwoman.”

You scoff. “I prefer Robin Hood, actually. Take from the rich and give to the poor. You’re rich, so I take from you and...give to me. The poor.”

“That would work better if I didn’t get most of that stuff for free, but that is a pretty solid comparison.”

After about 8 hours of you being on aux, you decided to cut him so slack and let him take over on music as you continued to drive, mouthing the lyrics of the latest song that was playing from his phone, quickly getting lost in the rhythm.

He glanced over at you, chuckling softly, nodding his head along to the beat. “I didn’t know you were an 80s rock fan.”

“I didn’t either but you played this a few weeks ago while we were making dinner and I’ve been listening to it ever since. Hate to admit it but this is kind of a banger." You smirked, tilting your head toward him. "You know…I won’t tell anyone if you sing.”

Justin immediately starts shaking his head. “No shot. You’re not doing this to me.”

You turned up the music, singing loudly and deliberately off-key as he sighed deeply, his head dropping back against the headrest. But to your surprise, he joined in during the chorus. Both of you were screaming the lyrics to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, the car practically vibrating with your energy.

“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip,” he said, holding out his pinky.

“Deal,” you laughed, locking your pinky with his before refocusing on the road.

A few hours later, Justin motioned for you to take the next exit. “Let’s hop out right here. I want to show you something,” he said cryptically.

The stop turned out to be a scenic lookout, the perfect place to watch the sunset with Mt. Shasta looming majestically in the distance. Justin laced his fingers with yours as the two of you walked toward the edge, stretching your legs after hours in the car.

“This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, mesmerized by the golden and pink hues painting the sky.

Justin turned to you with a warm smile, his eyes full of something that made your stomach flutter. “Yeah… me too.”

You smacked his arm, keeping your gaze on the horizon. “Justin, focus. You’re not even looking at the scenery right now.”

“Sorry, I just got really distracted by the view in front of me. It’s kind of become my favorite.” He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. His beard—something that came and went whenever he felt like it—tickled your temple, making you smile.

Turning around in his arms, you finally look up at him, the sight still stealing your breath even after all this time. His green eyes were softer in the glow of the setting sun, flickering between your eyes and lips as if he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“You’re my favorite view too,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t mind waking up to you for a while...the rest of my life even.”

The words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy with meaning. His brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, you worried you’d said too much. You hadn't even meant to say that last part out loud and you almost backtracked. But then, his lips curled into a small, hesitant smile, like he was processing the weight of your words.

“Really?” he asked, his voice low and steady. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “You—you see us doing this? Getting married, spending our lives together?”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart ache in the best way. “Yeah, I do. Which is funny because I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with.”

Justin didn’t respond immediately, but his actions spoke louder than any words ever could. His hands slid to frame your face fully, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if memorizing every detail. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and deliberate, like he was pouring everything he felt but couldn’t say into that one kiss. It wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was the kind of kiss that made the world fade away until it was just the two of you.

His hand gently cradled your head, holding you in place as if he was afraid you might slip away. You gripped the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, your heart racing as the kiss deepened. There was something so raw, so unspoken in the way his lips moved against yours—it wasn’t just passion; it was promise. Everything you saw, this bright beautiful future together? He saw it too.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together. He let out a shaky laugh, his hands still cradling your face. “I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with either,” he admitted, his voice hoarse but filled with a quiet certainty. “Until now.”

The kiss lingered for just a moment longer, both of you savoring the connection, the sound of your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your breath. When Justin finally pulled back, there was a brief moment of silence, a quiet understanding between you. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, giving you a small smile before pulling away completely to open the door of the car.

“I think we’ve stalled long enough,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than usual but still carrying that calm confidence you admired. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both shared a laugh, though it felt a bit nervous on your part as the reality of the day hit. You had no idea what to expect, but you knew this was a big moment for Justin—and for you.

Justin took the keys from your hand, giving you one last reassuring squeeze before getting in the driver's seat. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the jittery nerves you hadn’t even realized you were holding onto.

The final leg of the drive felt like it stretched on forever, even though only a few hours had passed since you were on the mountain. There was something different in the air now. The soft, quiet hum of the road felt more like a countdown to something important.

Every few minutes, Justin would glance over at you, a soft smile curling at his lips as if trying to reassure himself just as much as you. His hand eventually found itself encasing yours, his thumb making lazy circles over your skin. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence, calm and unwavering, was more than enough.

When the exit for Eugene finally appeared, you felt your pulse quicken. This was it. This was the moment.

“Here we go,” Justin murmured, his voice somehow more steady than his movements, as he guided the car off the highway and toward the familiar road leading to his childhood home.

The transition felt sudden, but not uncomfortable. It was a quiet moment of realization that everything you’d shared so far had been leading to this point. He was letting you in. You were meeting the people who mattered most to him, the ones who had shaped him into the man he was today.

As you approached the house, you could see the familiar outline of the porch, a few trees swaying in the breeze, and a small garage you guessed held memories of Justin’s childhood. The house was modest, but there was a sense of warmth and familiarity that seemed to radiate from the front door, even from the car.

Justin slowed as he approached, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours one last time before he parked the car. He looked over at you, eyes soft but serious, like he was searching for your reassurance.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with both excitement and nerves.

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah. Ready.”

And with that, the two of you got out of the car and walked toward the front door of his family’s home, the journey that had brought you here feeling like both an ending and a beginning.

The door swung open before you even knocked, and there stood his mom, her arms outstretched.

She was gorgeous, her dark hair a stark contrast to Justin's much lighter features. But she wasn't interested in him at all, making a beeline for you straight away. “Oh, you’re even more beautiful than he said! I’m Holly—come in, come in!"

You barely had time to process her words before you were enveloped in a warm hug, her energy immediately putting you at ease. Over her shoulder, you spot Justin’s dad, Mark, standing on the porch with a reserved smile, and Justin’s brothers are leaning against the doorway, smirking. Justin laughed softly behind you, side stepping you and his mom. "Alright, let her breathe please? It'd be helpful if she made it through this entire night without suffocating," he jokes as his mom pulls away, rolling her eyes as she gives him a hug.

A younger guy who looks almost exactly like a mustached version of your boyfriend greets you next. "Hi, I'm Patrick. Glad Mitch wasn't lying and you are a real person, but pro tip? You're way out of this dork's league," he says with a serious face, nodding his head towards his older brother.

Justin glares at him and doesn't respond, muttering something under his breath that only Patrick catches as he bursts into a fit of laughter. You give Mitch a hug—the familiar face of Justin's older brother a welcome sight. He was a first-year orthopedic surgery resident at UCLA, the perfect situation for him and Justin to live together again. You'd been able to meet him on several occasions which proved useful in easing your nerves about meeting everyone else. “How was the drive? Are you guys staying at the ranch tonight?”

“We are,” you replied with a smile. “I’m really excited to finally see this infamous place.”

Justin’s dad steps forward, his handshake firm but warm, his eyes studying you with quiet curiosity before his face softens into a welcoming smile. “Don’t let these two scare you off. We’re happy to finally meet you. Let's head inside, I think Holly already has the baby pictures set out and ready for you to go through," he smiles, patting Justin on the back as his son shakes his head.

"You're lucky your dad talked me out of making a PowerPoint Presentation because we were seconds away from watching a pre dinner slideshow." Holly says to him with a small smile as everyone steps inside.

Patrick's voice cuts through everyone's laughter, "she's not even kidding, it was about to have music included and everything but dad saved you. I was about to give her some of the best material." He looks over at you, overenunciating for emphasis. "Two words: bowl. Cut."

"See what I have to deal with?" Justin whispers, gently pulling you into his side. Mark and Holly exchange knowing looks but don't say anything.

The house smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, like warmth itself had settled into the walls. Framed pictures lined the hallways—some faded with time, others vibrant and new—each capturing a story of childhood adventures and hard-won victories. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the cozy living room. This wasn’t just a house; it was a sanctuary, a place where love was stitched into the very fabric of its foundation.

On the table in the living room is a stack of photo albums from when Justin was a newborn all the way up until his senior year of college. Countless memories were shared in these frames, a clearly busy but joyful childhood filled with love, laughter and lots of sporting events of all kinds. You could see that this family valued quality time with each other and the home you were in radiated warmth and love.

You ran your fingers lightly over the plastic covering of one album, tracing the faded marker label: Justin – Year 3. Inside, a chubby-cheeked toddler grinned back at you, his tiny facial features stretched in a mischievous but slightly forced smile.

“He never changed,” Patrick teased. “Still hates cameras.”

His words made you laugh a little because it was true, but you also saw something deeper. A boy who had grown up in a home where love wasn’t measured in trophies or contracts but in moments. The same boy who had fought to protect his private life in the face of stadium lights and national attention. You understood now—it wasn’t about secrecy. It was about keeping his people, the most important part of him, safe.

Your gaze flickered to Justin, his fingers tapping against his thigh—a telltale sign of deep thought. He wasn’t just reminiscing. He was remembering what it felt like to carry all of this, to be seen as something larger than life before he even had a chance to grow into it. And yet, here, he wasn’t the NFL quarterback. He was just...Justin.

"He was the starter by the end of that season, kind of became the hometown hero from then," Mitch sighs, sifting through some of the photos. "Things kind of got chaotic after that, with comparisons and people talking on social media."

"It was annoying," Justin cuts in, "deleted my Instagram after that. Only got it back around the draft for endorsement purposes." His words are dry, like it was painful or embarrassing thinking back to that time.

You had always respected, even admired, Justin’s need for privacy. But sitting here, surrounded by the people who had shaped him, you understood where it all came from: it wasn’t just about keeping the world out—it was about keeping his world safe. The weight of expectations, the relentless scrutiny, the unspoken pressure to be perfect—it had started young. He hadn’t chosen to be private. He had been forced to learn how to protect the things that mattered most.

And that’s what this house and his family was.

His one refuge from a world that always wanted more.

"Alright," Holly says, breaking you out of your epiphany, "who's ready to eat?"

This was a family you could definitely see yourself being a part of. Justin seemed so much more relaxed and at ease here which was a stark contrast to what you'd seen from him recently. His job was unforgiving, unrelenting. And the fans? You thanked your lucky stars daily for the fact that Justin wasn't on Twitter, especially after the Houston loss. This is where he belonged, these were his people. They didn't care about the stats or the money or everything that came with it and that's exactly how he wanted to be treated. He had a home in these people. He'd only found that comfort and peace one other time since he left Eugene.

And that was when he met you.

Dinner went on seamlessly, Mark joking asked if you two had a wedding date set after watching his son not-so-subtly check in on you throughout your stay. There were inside jokes, little moments of laughter from your relationship with Justin like how you had to adjust to his crazy hours in the facility from Monday-Wednesday but Thursdays were the days that really mattered, it was just the two of you. And sometimes Mitch and Isabella. But those were the days that brought you even closer, those little moments, just like this one that brought you so much joy it felt like you'd explode. There was easy laughter, Patrick telling some story about Justin being so private and how much he likes to keep to himself that he never thought he'd see this day. You spoke up and reassured him that you think you've successfully peeled back some layers and found your best friend in the process. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Mitch giving Patrick a nudge. Even Mark cracked a little smile, but all you could focus on was Justin's subtle smile that spoke volumes, in his own unique way. After everyone was finished with their meal, you found yourself in the kitchen with Holly, helping her plate dessert while the guys debated football in the other room.

“He’s different with you, you know.” She nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel before leaning against the counter.

Your hands froze mid-reach. A small knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. “Different good or…?”

She smiled, her eyes soft with something unreadable. “Good. Really good.” There was a wistfulness in her expression, something unspoken lingering in the air. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking. “Oh?”

“His grandma. My mom,” she said, voice quieter now, like the weight of memory had settled over her. “She was the only one who could ever get my dad to slow down. He was always moving—always thinking about the next challenge, the next goal. But with her, it was…different. She had this way of pulling him back to the present, reminding him that love isn’t measured in achievements. That life isn’t just about what you do—it’s about who you share it with.”

Her eyes met yours then, her meaning unmistakable. “Seeing you and Justin felt very similar to seeing them together again. It’s really nice to see him be with someone who helps him to reel it in a little.”

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small laugh. “Well, he’s still a workaholic, so I might not be that good at it.”

Holly chuckled. “That’s just who he is. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always checking in. You’re his home. His safe space.” She paused, and added softly, “And that’s all a mother could ever want for her son.”

You blinked back the unexpected sting of tears and watched as Holly swiped at her eyes. Before you could really process what you were doing, you were hugging her again. All the nerves and tension from earlier have completely vanished. Justin might not say much, but his actions had always spoken volumes. And now, hearing it from his mom—knowing that she saw it too—meant more than you could put into words.

The two of you walked back in with trays holding little bowls filled with apple crisp and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top with caramel drizzle.

As Justin watched you, something settled in his chest—a feeling he hadn’t even known he was searching for. His mom was smiling at you in that way she only did when she had already decided someone was family. His dad—usually quiet, reserved—nodded along to your words like he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. His brothers, relentless as ever, had already started pulling you into their teasing.

And there you were. Sitting beside him, laughing like you belonged here. Because you did.

An hour later, after lingering goodbyes and a few last jokes, you walked side by side to his car. As Justin slid into the driver’s seat, he exhaled slow and deep. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying finally lifted. Maybe it was the fear of his two worlds colliding. Maybe it was the quiet, unspoken worry that you wouldn’t fit into this part of his life.

But you did. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. Like you were always meant to.

“Well,” you said, patting his thigh with a teasing grin, “that went great. Can’t believe you were so freaked out.”

He turned to you, feigning offense before shaking his head with a laugh. The sound of it filled the car, warm and easy. You joined in, your laughter melting into his as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

This. This is what home should feel like.

Justin leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured.

But as he pulled back, hand still wrapped around yours, the thought hit him like a slow-burning realization.

I think I might love you too.

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert fic

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wolvietxt · 2 days ago

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hiiiiiii jay!! ive been having an unhealthy sleeping schedule lately, so i just wanted to know what you think frank would do if he catches you up pulling an all-nighter cause of some uni work when he came home from one of his missions. most especially, when you tell him you’ve done it for three straight nights while he was gone…

FRANK knew something was off the second he stepped into the apartment. it was quiet, too quiet, but not in the way that usually meant safety. the tv wasn’t on, no music played softly from your phone, and you didn’t come running up to him the second he locked the door behind him.

his gut clenched.

he slipped off his boots, careful not to track any dirt or blood onto the floor, and listened. he heard it then - the faint sound of typing. quick, rhythmic, desperate.

with a sigh, he followed it, walking toward the kitchen, where the glow of your laptop screen cast shadows across your face. papers were scattered everywhere, some crumpled, some covered in highlighter. empty redbull cans were scattered around the tabletop. a half-eaten granola bar sat next to an empty coffee cup, and another coffee was in your hand, fingers curled tight around it like a lifeline.

you didn’t even notice him.

“sweetheart.” his voice was low, firm.

you startled, eyes snapping up. he saw the exhaustion in them instantly - red-rimmed, glassy, dark circles bruising your skin.

“frank,” you breathed, blinking fast like you were trying to clear your vision.

he didn’t move toward you just yet, but he looked you over, taking in the way your hands trembled around the coffee cup, the way your shoulders sagged under the weight of whatever you were doing.

“what’re you doin’ up?” he asked, though he already had an idea.

“just… finishing some stuff,” you mumbled, eyes darting back to your laptop. “it’s nothing, really.”

he glanced at the time on the microwave. 4:12 a.m.

his jaw ticked.

“when’s the last time you slept?”

you hesitated, biting your lip, and he knew right then you were about to say something he wouldn’t like.

“um … a little bit, here and there,” you finally said, voice too soft, too small.

frank sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “baby.”

“it’s fine,” you tried to reassure him, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “i just needed to catch up on work. it’s been kinda crazy, and i thought, you know, since you were gone, i’d just - ”

“how long?”

your mouth opened, closed.

he took a step forward. “how long you been doin’ this?”

“…three nights.”

his nostrils flared.

“three damn nights?” his voice was sharper now, and you flinched. not out of fear, but because you knew how much he hated this - hated seeing you worn down, pushing yourself past your limits. you’d hate to see him disappointed in you but in your defence, you thought he’d be home a whole lot later.

“i just - i had to, frank,” you whispered. “i got so behind, and i didn’t want you to come back to me all stressed and falling apart, so i just - ”

his hands were on you before you could finish, tugging you up and out of the chair, wrapping you up tight against him. you didn’t even realize you were crying until he sighed against your hair, feeling the dampness on his shirt.

“sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough with something heavy, something that made your chest ache. “you think i care ‘bout any of that? you think i want you doin’ this to yourself?”

“i just wanted to keep up,” you sniffled, fingers fisting in his jacket. “i didn’t wanna be a mess when you got back.”

he pulled back just enough to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. his eyes, dark and tired but so damn full of love, locked onto yours.

“you could be the biggest damn mess in the world, and i wouldn’t care. you hear me?” he said, low and firm. “don’t wanna come home to you runnin’ yourself into the ground. don’t wanna see you like this.”

you nodded, lower lip trembling, and he groaned, pressing a kiss there, then another, then another, like he was trying to fix it, to erase the exhaustion, the stress, the weight you’d been carrying alone.

“c’mon,” he muttered, tugging you toward the bedroom. “you’re done. no more of this.”

“but - ”

he shot you a look. “no buts. you’re gonna sleep.”

you wanted to protest, but the second you hit the bed, exhaustion slammed into you like a tidal wave. you barely registered the weight of him next to you, pulling you against his chest, hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back.

“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he whispered against your hair, voice soft, warm. “always.”

and for the first time in three nights, you believed it.

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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bapeach · 3 days ago

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Boombastic

Just a short story while I try to get back into writing. Don't love it, but it's better than nothing 😁 Constructive criticism is always welcome. Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Nika Mühl x female!reader Word count: 1.3k+ Summary: You catch Nika watching TikTok edits of you.

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When you enrolled in UConn, your only plans were to play basketball and get a degree. You didn’t care about making friends or getting a girlfriend. You only really wanted to play ball, but you knew you needed to have a backup in case something happened and you could never play again. So a degree in communication it was.

It’s not like you struggled making friends, you just didn’t ever have your own little friend group. You hopped from group to group, always a friend to everyone, but never letting anyone get too close. Well, that was before you came to university. If you really thought you were going to be able to only be teammates with your basketball team, you thought wrong. Joining that team means joining a family. And thank God for that. You loved those girls to pieces and were happy to call every single one of them your best friends.

You were especially close to Nika, however. Which was a good thing, seeing as she was also your roommate. And maybe you also had a tiny crush on her, but no one needed to know that. Sure, you two playfully flirted with each other all the time, but that was all just a joke. To the Croatian, at least. You meant every single thing you said to her. Things like how she was the prettiest girl you’d ever seen, how her smile could light up the darkest rooms, and how if she were yours, you’d treat her right.

There are moments when you think she might like you back. The way she looks at you isn’t the way friends look at each other. Friends also don’t blush the way she does when you lean in close to mutter a compliment. But then you start overthinking it and make yourself believe that you’re just imagining things. Because there is no way that the goddess that is Nika Mühl will ever like you.

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You hum your favorite song to yourself as you walk through the hallways. You’d just gone out for some errands and were on the way back to your dorm. You wonder if Nika is already there or if she’s still with Paige. You hope she’s home, maybe then you two could finish the show you’d started a while ago. You quicken your step a little as you near your dorm. When you open the door, you take a step inside to see Nika already on the couch, her back towards you.

A grin appears on your face as you quietly put your stuff down on the table next to the door. You open your mouth to say something, but you know that wouldn’t do much. Nika is wearing those annoying headphones that you complain about at least once a day. They’re great for the person wearing them, the sound is clear, and outside sounds are completely muffled. They aren’t so great for the people around them, though. You can clearly hear everything the wearer is listening to, while they can’t hear you yell at them to turn it down.

You start taking off your shoes as you hear the song playing on Nika’s phone. You smirk a little as you recognize the music. Boombastic by Shaggy. The song has been all over your fyp all week, so you figure the brunette is scrolling on TikTok. Your face scrunches up in confusion when you’ve finally taken off both shoes. The song was playing on repeat. “I swear to God if she’s watching an edit of herself to that song,” you think to yourself as a mischievous grin grows on your face.

You walk over and pause behind her, watching her phone from over her shoulder. Your mouth drops open as you see yourself in the video. A smirk appears on your face as you watch Nika play the TikTok over and over again. You see that she’s already liked it and has it saved to one of her folders. You shoot forward, snatching the phone out of her hands as you quickly back up.

The brunette bolts up as she looks at you with wide eyes, her cheeks blazing red in embarrassment. “Y/N, give me back my phone!” She huffs. She tries to take it out of your hands, but you hold your arm away from her as you look at her cockily. “Damn, I look good,” you hum, pursing your lips.

“Y/N, please,” she begs, looking at the floor. You tap her profile as you check out in which folder she saved the video. “Oh. My. God… You have a folder with 102 edits saved of me?” You laugh in shock and amusement. The Croatian girl burns an even brighter red as she stops trying to steal the phone from you, having accepted defeat. She sits back down as she puts her face in her hands. “Shut uppp,” she whines.

You look away from the phone towards the brunette, your smile softening. “God, she’s adorable,” you think. Nika huffs as she hears you take a screenshot of the number and send it to yourself. She wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Once you’re done, you throw the phone next to her, not looking as it bounces against her thigh.

You grab your own phone, saving the screenshot before opening your TikTok. After a few swipes, you put your phone back in your pocket as you look at Nika with a grin. Feeling her phone buzz, the brunette grabs it and unlocks it to check your message. She stares at the picture you sent for a few seconds. It was a screenshot of your own TikTok account, a folder with her name on it visible. The number “253” on display.

“You… you have 253 TikToks saved of me?” She says as she looks up at you, her eyes wide. “102 is a rookie number. I thought you liked me?” You tease as you cross your arms. She rolls her eyes as you walk over, a smirk forming on her face. “253 of me? People are gonna think you have a crush on me, Y/N/N,” she grins. You grab her hand and pull her up from the couch. Her cheeks flaming as you pull her against you. “Hmm, and so what if I do?” You say with a low voice as you grab her chin.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” she replies, looking up at you with doe eyes. “Is that so?” You mutter, leaning a little closer to her. “Mhm… Why don’t you show me how much you like me?” She mumbles back. She barely has time to finish her sentence as you pull her face towards your own. You kiss her hard and deep as you grip her a little tighter. When you’re out of breath, you back up a bit and smirk. “How was that for proof?”

She rolls her eyes at you, a grin on her face. You soften a bit as you look at her. You move your hand to cup her cheek as you rub your thumb across it. “I really like you, Niks,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper. You don’t care about the fact that you’re looking at her with vulnerable, desperate eyes. You needed her to know.

She grabs your face in her hands, pulling you close. You stare into her eyes, only being a few inches away from her. “Then why haven’t you asked me out yet?” She murmurs, her lips a small pout. You look at her in adoration and a hint of regret. “I’m sorry for being too scared to… Let me make it up to you? Dinner at 6 tomorrow?”

She grins at you, pulling you in for another kiss. “Deal.” You beam a wide smile at her before smirking. “So… Do you often watch TikToks of me on repeat?” You let out a deep laugh as Nika slaps your shoulder, pushing you away. You grab her wrists, pulling her back against you in a hug. “You’re a jerk,” she mutters against your chest. “Yeah, but you love me,” you reply, feeling her smile against your shirt. “Hmph,” she huffs, but squeezes you tighter.

You suppose those damn headphones aren’t so bad after all.

#nika muhl x reader #nika mühl x reader #nika x reader #nika muhl oneshot #nika muhl #oneshot #imagine #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #nika muhl x you #wlw fanfic #Spotify #BaPeach writes

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intrikatie · 3 days ago

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Love you more... Minho

banner by the endlessly talented @skzdreamer13 [my chopstick]

♡ Pairing: Established relationship! Minho x GN Reader ♡ Genre: Fluff, Headcanon ♡ Warnings: none ♡ Wordcount: <500 ♡ a/n: trying to get the hang of short form.

It’s a quiet night at home. The only sound is the low hum of your music playlist and the soft glow of your desk lamp. Minho lounges on the couch, his head resting on your lap as you absently thread your fingers through his hair, enjoying the peaceful moment.

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice muffled.

You smile softly, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. “I love you more.”

Minho lets out a mock sigh, cracking one eye open to glance up at you. “Oh? And what makes you think that?”

You smirk. “I’m the one who always knows when you need a break from all the chaos. I can tell when you're getting too caught up in your own head, and I make sure you take a breather.”

He hums, his lips quirking into a small smile. “That’s true, but I’m the one who makes sure you never feel insecure. I remind you how amazing you are, even when you forget.”

You laugh softly, fingers still playing with his hair. “I’m the one who calms you down when you’re stressed. I know exactly how to make you forget about everything else and just be in the moment.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, eyes gleaming mischievously. “I’m the one who always makes sure you’re laughing, even if it means making a fool of myself.”

You lean in slightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And I’m the one who’s always there when you need someone to listen, when you’re having a tough day and just need to vent.”

Minho huffs, lips quirking up in amusement. “I still reckon I love you more.”

You pause, then smirk. “More than your cats?”

His eyes snap open, brows furrowing. “Wait—what?”

You grin, watching him shift slightly against your lap. “Well? Do you love me more than your cats?”

Minho scoffs, clearly flustered. “That’s—! That’s not even the same thing! That’s different.”

You tilt your head innocently. “Different how?”

He gives you an exasperated look. “Loving my cats is like… family love. You’re—” He hesitates before blurting out, “You’re real love.”

You bite back a giggle, knowing exactly how much this conversation is riling him up. “Aww, Min. You should’ve just said that from the start.”

He groans, rolling onto his side to bury his face against your stomach. “I hate you.”

You laugh, fingers dancing through his hair. “No, you don’t.”

Minho lets out a muffled sigh, voice quieter now. “Yeah… I really don’t.”

You smile, pressing another kiss to his head. “I love you, Minho.”

He shifts slightly, tightening his arms around your waist. “I love you more.”

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #supernovanetwork #straykidsland #stray kids valentines #skz Lee Know #skz Minho #Lee Know x reader #Lee Know fanfic #intriwrites #intriwriteslk #Lee Know fluff #short and sweet

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makeitworse · 2 days ago

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he’s not me

˖ ࣪✦ su-bong (thanos) x f reader x dae-ho | nsfw dc, mdni

freshly single, you’re out on the town hunting a rebound from your shitty ex. but did you really think he’d let you get away that easy?

c/w: dark themes! drug addiction, very toxic relationship, violence & abuse, choking, possessiveness, manipulation, dub+noncon, cunnilingus, semi-public unprotected sex, degradation, so much angst a/n: sequel to this (or a standalone). this became so much longer than i intended.. there’s alot going on. i intentionally left the ending open. it’s your choice if they do/don’t eventually get back together

it’s your first night post-freedom from su-bong, and you couldn’t be more eager to sink your teeth into someone new.

you walk the crowded streets under fluorescent lights in the tiniest dress you own. the type you’d keep hidden in the back of your closet: su-bong wouldn’t like it. he’d ask who you think you’re trying to impress. well nevermind him. fuck him.

you spare a wink to every man that you checks you out. you don’t avoid brushing against them, you don’t even flinch when you feel their hand lingering a second too long as you pass by. you’re in need of a distraction tonight, and any man will do.

you float through bars, and the men gravitate to you. you’re not really listening when they tell you about their business or their crypto or all the women they have on speed-dial as if you’re meant to cum on the spot. the lines you did before you left the house had made it impossible to zone out.

you were chucking back any shots that slid your way. you were in a rush to drown out the thoughts of your ex creeping in.

you couldn’t hold glasses too long, else you’d remember the shatters that littered across the floor when he threw them. you couldn’t stare at doors too long, else you’d remember hearing his fist denting the wood and blood marking the spots. you said you were done being with him, and he showed you exactly why.

you take deep breaths to ground yourself. attention from old drunks at the bar was a shitty pre-game; you needed someone who could pound the memories of your ex out of you.

back on the street, you were already wobbling with the weight of all the please-fuck-me drinks they bought you - but who’s counting anyway? you bee-lined to the first place booming with flashing lights and music.

you’re leaning at the bar, squinting through the pulsing LED lights to scan the crowds. your breath hitches as a hand lands on your ass.

you face him, hoping to god it’s not you-know-who, and thank fucking christ it’s not. god, you need him out of your head already. this guy’s not hot enough to do the job though.

you tune him out as he talks your ear off, and you continue to check out the selection. your gaze lands on a man sitting at a table with his back turned to you, hair falling down his neck: nam-gyu?

you really couldn’t tell through all this rainbow flashbanging of the lights.

you watch him turn his head to the side, chatting to the person sitting next to him. his face is full with a warm smile, and focusing through all the music you could just hear the gentleness of his laugh. yeah that’s definitely not nam-gyu. but colour you attracted.

you honed in on him.

the few people around the table took notice of you, and not-nam-gyu turns in his stool to face you. he’s gorgeous.

you hadn’t noticed that his hair was actually half-up in a ponytail. strands fell around his face, and he eyed you curiously with that kind smile. you wanted to sit on it.

“don’t i know you?”

he shakes his head gently, seeming almost disappointed in himself for not recognising you back. you bite your lip and feign trying to put a name to his face.

“oh!” you point to him, “you’re the guy who’s taking me to the dance floor.”

whistles and gibes erupted around the table. he glances to his friends, then shyly back at you. your palm opens for him, and with a friend’s nudge to his shoulder, his hand’s on top of yours.

your fingers weave between each other’s as you lead him to the floor. as you squeeze through the dancing crowd, he plants a careful hand on your back and keeps you close to him, pushing through people first to open the way for you.

he turns to you, and your arms wrap around his shoulders. “what a gentleman.”

he just chuckles, cautiously keeping that singular hand on your back. you can’t say you’re used to such restraint for a man.

“i’m sorry, i haven’t asked your name.”

you coo it to him, pulling him in to press your bodies together. he gasps under his breath.

“dae-ho.” he smiles gently, flustered.

you sway together to the music, quickly progressing to jumping and hands in the air. you’re both giggling through the flashing lights. your cheeks hurt from smiling and your throat’s sore from singing - but you’re moving in sync, moving like you were made for one another.

you already felt a flame flickering in your belly, even with such little words. you’d long forgotten your main objective: now you just wanted to keep basking in dae-ho’s warmth. you wanted to know more than just his name.

you brush the tip of your nose against his and catch his breath come out shallow. your hands slowly drag his own down your back, and he almost resists with uncertainty. but you gaze up at him through half-lidded eyes: irises pools of desire. dae-ho succumbs, and his hands rest on your ass.

you loll your head forward, lips grazing his jaw. his chest falls with a deep exhale.

“i’m sorry, gorgeous. we can’t do anything while you’re in this state.”

you furrow your brow with genuine confusion. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear in reassurance.

“i promise i want to, but you’re drunker than i am. it’s not right.”

oh. see, your ex wouldn’t have given one singular fuck about that. (there was one particular instance when you were sobbing after a bad trip, and he had the audacity to get hard.)

you cupped dae-hoe’s blushing cheek in your hand. “then can we see in the morning?”

your voice delivered needy. he notices, and sighs. you were a breathing moral dilemma for dae-ho. his first instinct wasn’t just taking what he wants. not like he would have.

“i shouldn’t let you go home alone like this, anyway.”

you smile together. you chuckle together. you want to kiss him. so you do.

but he pulls you away with a gentle hand on your cheek. you pout.

“i’ll make it up to you once you’re thinking clearly.”

a rough hand locks around your arm and snatches you from dae-ho. you knock into his chest and breathe in the smoke clinging to his shirt. you knew exactly who it was before you heard his annoying drawl.

“babygirllll, i’ve been looking for you.” su-bong squishes your cheeks with his hand under your chin, and you writhe in his grip. “you’ve had me so worried.”

dae-ho tensed upon seeing your resistance. “hey!-”

you watch su-bong stare daggers back at dae-ho. “and who the fuck are you?” he juts his jaw, taking a step closer. “huh??”

heads begin turning at his voice raising, with whispers among the crowd recognising him as a rapper. “fuck you think you’re doin’ all up on my girl, bro?”

“su-bong.” you hiss. he cocks his head ever-so-slightly in your direction, like he couldn’t care less about what you have to say. but you knew what he wanted.

“let’s just go.”

his hand lands on your waist, fingers digging in like he’s trying to break the skin. you don’t hide the fact that you wince. he mutters, “there’s my good girl.”

then he’s dragging you through the crowd, and you can’t bear to spare dae-ho a second glance.

su-bong kicks open a backdoor and shoves you out into a dark alleyway filled with dumpsters. he doesn’t spare you any time to observe your surroundings, because he leeches onto your face and invades your mouth with his tongue.

his knee pushes through your legs to dig up into your core. his long arms kept you in place, hold too tight to writhe free from.

su-bong’s touch seared your skin like acid - but it was a familiar sting. comforting even. you almost missed it.

your body submits to him. you kiss him back, you whine into his mouth. just like he wants. you won’t admit it to yourself, but you’re not even fully acting.

once you feel his grip loosen, you knee him in the crotch, shoving him away as he keels over.

su-bong’s groans of pain blends into a low chuckle. “fuck, you tease.”

“take a fucking hint, su-bong! we’re over!”

“mm,” he hums, like he’s not taking you seriously. he steps to you again. you step back. “you know much i need you. i can’t live without my pretty lady.”

“you’re a fucking cockblocker.”

su-bong bites his lip, eyes scanning over your outfit choice. that little dress that revealed a little too much.

“shit, baby,” his palms carelessly roamed all over your curves, ignoring you trying to push them away. “looks like you were just begging for my attention, huh?”

you scoff. “any man’s but yours.”

you catch the twitch of his eyebrow and clench of his jaw. you recognised well the signs of when he was getting ticked off. but you also caught the moment he cleared his head with a sigh. can’t fuck up his big chance now.

su-bong just shakes his head with a smirk.

“tell me, baby. who’d take you in-,” he pinches your chin. “-after they see you’re just a junkie with a pretty face?”

he makes sure to flick his gaze at you, catch the fleeting shame in your eyes. of course he does. he’s revelling in this shit. like he can save you from yourself if you just run into his arms now.

“it’s none of your business who i fuck. we’re not together anymore.”

“right,” he hunches over with a laugh. “and i guess we’ve both quit drugs too, right?”

you didn’t want to keep getting him off by provoking you, but you just couldn’t swallow down the words stinging your throat.

“like you didn’t get me hooked on that shit!” you spat. “fuck you!-”

you blink, and pain radiates all over your back. you blink again, and su-bong’s pressing into you. it takes a third blink to realise he’d shoved you against the alley wall.

it’s not the bruising grip of his hands on your body or his nails digging into your skin that scares you, it’s his piercing gaze. like his eyes are ripping you open.

“don’t.. even tempt me.”

his voice is hoarse, laced with want. need. he’s itching for a fix.

he brings a delicate hand up to caress your face. “i can be good, baby. i promise. i can do better for you this time.”

he’s planting soft kisses on your neck, goosebumps spreading across your skin as he whispers about how much he loves you, everything he’d do for you.

you shut your eyes as tears gloss over them. there used to be a point in time where you would’ve believed him. and maybe he would’ve meant it too.

but now, the love that binded you was replaced by an addiction: not only drugs, but each other.

the highs were full of screams and bruises and hate-sex. and the withdrawals were even worse. you were dying after every dose. you were killing the other, and yourself.

“we bring out the worst in each other, su-bong.”

“then there’s nobody else for us.”

no two people should ever hold the power to hurt each other like you do. you decide then- not even think, just state:

“i’m going clean tomorrow.”

su-bong scoffs. he doesn’t believe you mean it, and you’re not even sure you do.

“so you’re never seeing me again.”

after a beat, his expression turns solemn. he realises you’re not just provoked, you’re not just trying to hurt him- you’re serious.

his eyes trail off, lost in thought. your body braces itself on instinct. you don’t know what he’ll do to you next. but he just meets your gaze, black pupils swallowing his irises in desire.

“then why are you still here?”

and your lips were on his. your teeth clashed together and his nicked at your lip from the haste, but you kept kissing feverishly through the pain. your tongues twisted with each other’s: su-bong was desperate to reach every corner, taste every last bit of you for the last time. one last hit until you quit him cold turkey.

his hands greedily groped at your tits, your hips, your ass - while your own slid underneath his baggy shirt to claw at his back.

he bit at your neck, you scratched at his flesh. you rolled your hips into his, and he thrusted his hard-on back. he crashed his lips onto yours and kissed you like he was starving to eat you alive.

su-bong keeled over with a moan from the back of his throat as you grasped the outline of his dick through his pants, hot and damp with pre-cum.

in turn he pulled the hem of your dress up. you felt the twitch of his cock in your palm when he saw your pussy dripping- no panties.

“you fucking little-”

you forced su-bong down by his shoulders and he fell to his knees.

“shut the fuck up.”

you push him to your cunt and cry out when he latches on with a hot, open mouth.

he’s lapping at you like a dog. you slouch against the wall as your legs go numb, and su-bong crushes a hand around your hamstring to keep you in place for him. his other splits your cunt open with two digits inside, curling recklessly while he sucks your clit.

incoherent curses at him blended together with your whines. any ‘fuck you’ was lost in a moan when he’d pull his fingers in and out to hit your sweet spot.

he knew you were close with the way your voice went hoarse and your thighs clamped around his head - and that’s when the bitch pulled away.

he propped you up against the wall and tugged his waistband down, his cock springing free with a string of pre-cum.

“shit, baby.” he bit his lip and lined himself up with you. he groaned as his tip prodded your cunt. “you sure we’re over?”

“yes we fucking are.”

you moaned in sync when he thrusted in. for a beat, he stayed there, filling you to the hilt. his heaving body had you pushed up against the wall. he was savouring it. he groaned lowly into your ear.

“hurry up.”

your head knocked back into the wall as he snatched your neck into his hand and started slamming his hips into yours.

the throbbing in your crown was drowned out by su-bong abusing your cunt with his impatient pace, ramming into your cervix and eliciting a cry from you with every thrust.

su-bong was fucking you like you’ll drop dead when the clock strikes midnight. and in a way- the version of you that’d let a man fuck you like he hates your guts will.

su-bong stuck his forehead onto yours, beading with sweat. you saw yourself in his eyes: brows knotted, eyes laced with disgust. and his own were fawning over you, lips panting with a smile.

“you make me fucking sick.” you stammer out, feeling the knot undo with every ram of his dick to your sweet spot.

he presses a wet kiss to your lips that you don’t return. “i’m in love with you, baby.”

you unravelled then. su-bong maintained his bruising pace while your walls fluttered around his cock. he bit down onto your shoulder to smother his moans as his hips stuttered inside of you, and he came following yours.

your bodies slouched together. your hair stuck to your skin with sweat, and you thought you saw the dye dripping from su-bong’s ends.

you wish you hadn’t cum when you did. you wish you didn’t give him the satisfaction of that being the magic words. you wish you could tell yourself it wasn’t because of him.

without a second glance, you pulled his dick out of you with a grunt from him. smoothing your dress back down, you bump shoulders with su-bong as you move to leave. his arm shoots out around your waist to halt you.

and you just shove it off of you.

you keep your head forward, and as the door swings open to greet you with the booming club music, the only thought in your mind is to find dae-ho.

empty bottles of wine collected on the floor next to your side of the bed. futile attempts to ignore the scab your brain kept picking at.

it’s been months, and you can’t go a day without scratching at it to see if it still hurts. if you just left it alone, then maybe you’d actually heal.

you thought you saw him. you don’t even really know if you did, or if you just wanted to. a flash of purple hair amongst the club’s crowd had your throat burning with bile.

dae-ho’s arm snug around your waist felt you stiffen up, and he faced you: tears already clumping in your lashes. him taking you back home went without question.

now you were dozing off as dae-ho stroked your hair, half-lidded eyes full of adoration. he drew over the lines of your face with his fingers, his touch so gentle like you’d crack if he wasn’t careful.

if he was more like your ex, he’d try to see how rough you could take before you shattered. and then he’d pick up every piece to put you back together.

you were warm in bed with your boyfriend cooing you to sleep about how much he loves you, but tonight all you could think of is how he could never compare to su-bong.

dae-ho gets up to slide under the cover of his side. you gravitate to his heat, burying your face in his neck. he jumps when you plant a hand on the front of his boxers.

“hey- let’s save that for the morning, okay? after i’ve made you a coffee.” he chuckles.

he kisses your forehead. but for some reason, your skin seared with.. disappointment.

su-bong would have taken full advantage of you in your boozy state. you would’ve been irresistible to him, so well-behaved. so perfect for him.

..does dae-ho not want you?

you don’t even know why, but suddenly you’re sobbing quietly and staining his shirt with tears. and dae-ho’s comforting you, apologising if he said anything wrong, and none of it feels right. it’s just not what su-bong would do. he’s just not him.

su-bong hovers over the faces of girls in the bar crowd till he finds vaguely what he’s looking for. she’s pretty, probably. she looks enough like you from afar.

a little bit of chit-chat, and he’s thrusting up into her against the wall of the grimy restroom. he doesn’t look at her face, he wasn’t listening when she introduced herself. his eyes were screwed shut to keep his mind in the place he wanted. the place he needed to cum. and it slips from his mouth in a moan as he does.

a few seconds of shocked silence pass before the girl’s shoving him and mumbling cusses. “why didn’t you just fuck her then?!” rings out as the door slams behind her.

for months on end he’d been numbing himself with shit he wouldn’t let you touch - and still none of the harder drugs were giving him withdrawals like you leaving. needing you was hardwired into his brain chemistry. and well, you had been far more addicted than he was.

you’ll get bored of that guy. and the ones that follow him, too. but nothing will come close to the high that su-bong gave you.

and you always know where to find home.

#choi su bong x reader #su bong x reader #dae ho x reader #thanos x reader #kang dae ho x reader #player 388 x reader

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lovelymylene · 20 hours ago

Note

70s teenage dirtbag hamzah meeting reader at some old vhs place and immediately gushing to martin abt her ...

the WARRIORS

teenage dirtbag hamzah and reader

summary.. A chance encounter at a dusty VHS store leaves Hamzah completely hooked.. now all he can do is rewind the moment in his head and gush to Martin like an idiot.

VHS & Chill was the kind of place that smelled like stale popcorn and forgotten cigarette smoke, the scent of dust settling over old plastic cases stacked on wire racks. The sign outside flickered weakly, a busted neon “Open” buzzing against the quiet hum of the street. It wasn’t the busiest spot in town, most kids preferred the drive-in or the record store, but Hamzah liked it here. The silence. The low hum of a TV in the background playing something grainy and forgotten. The feeling that no one was really watching him, that he could just exist.

Martin, on the other hand, didn’t give a damn about silence. He was already flipping through tapes, tossing titles at Hamzah like he was quizzing him. The Last Picture Show? “Depressing.” Enter the Dragon? “Classic.” Harold and Maude? “Kinda weird, but I dig it.” Hamzah let out a breath, running a hand over his buzzed head, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his camera. It was second nature at this point, filming the nothingness of his days, capturing the way life looked when you weren’t really a part of it.

And then she walked in.

Hamzah didn’t even notice her at first, not really. Just the soft jingle of bracelets, the scuff of thick rubber soles against linoleum. It wasn’t until she passed by, the scent of vanilla and something deeper, warmer, hitting him like a sucker punch, that he actually looked up. Her hair framed her face perfectly, like one of those actresses in French films he pretended to understand, and she was wearing these shoes, chunky, broken-in, the kind that made a girl look like she could stomp you out if she wanted. A black baby tee, gold jewelry catching the dim light, making her look untouchable, unreal.

Hamzah stared.

And then Martin, the menace, clocked him immediately. “Oh, hell no,” he whispered, grinning. “Don’t even say it.”

“I—” Hamzah started, but Martin cut him off.

“Dude. Every time.”

“This is different.”

“It’s never different.”

Hamzah huffed, gripping his camera like it might stabilize him. “She looks like she has good taste.”

“She just walked in, man.”

“And?”

Martin just shook his head, amused, but Hamzah could feel it, the inevitable. The way he was already forming theories in his head. What movies she liked. What kind of music she listened to when no one was around. If she’d think his camera thing was weird or if she’d let him interview her with that lazy, amused look that pretty girls always had when he got too in his head.

She was flipping through the cult classics section now, rings glinting as she ran her fingers over the spines of old VHS tapes. Hamzah was not gonna go up to her. Absolutely not. His social skills were limited to Martin and his cats, and he was barely holding onto those. But then.. then she grabbed The Warriors, tilting her head like she was debating it.

Hamzah’s mouth moved before his brain did. “That’s a good one.”

She turned, surprised, and for a second, he thought maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. But then.. she smiled. Not big, not showy, just enough for him to see the amusement behind her eyes.

“Yeah?” she said, flipping the tape in her hands. “Think it’s worth it?”

Hamzah swallowed, nodding. “Definitely.”

And just like that, Martin was grinning like a devil over his shoulder, and Hamzah knew he was doomed.

The second she walked out the door, the little bell jingling behind her, Hamzah let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. He turned to Martin, eyes wide, heart still stuttering in his chest like an old car refusing to start.

“Oh, man,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, man.”

Martin just stared at him, arms crossed, already smirking like he’d been waiting for this moment. “Here we go.”

Hamzah ignored him. He was still staring at the door, like maybe she’d come back, like maybe he’d get another chance to act like a normal human being around her.

“Did you see her?” he asked, half in a daze. “Like, actually see her? The shoes, man. The jewelry. She smelled like—I don’t even know, but I think I just got cursed or something. That was—I think I’m actually losing my mind.”

Martin snorted. “Dude, she bought The Warriors. That’s literally the bare minimum.”

Hamzah whipped his head toward him, scandalized. “The bare minimum?! That’s cinematic taste, Martin. That’s culture.”

Martin held up his hands. “Okay, okay, relax, movie nerd. So what, you gonna actually talk to her next time?”

Hamzah groaned, tipping his head back. “I did talk to her.”

“Telling a girl a movie is ‘good’ doesn’t count as talking, dumbass.”

Hamzah let out another sigh, glancing back at the door. His camera was still clutched in his hands, fingers drumming anxiously against the side. Next time, he thought. If there was a next time.

And God, he really wanted there to be a next time.

I accidentally got lost in the sauce and stayed up all night writing this and now I’m running off no sleep..

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba113r @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

#fanfic #70s #fiction #headcanon #oneshot #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah fic #hamzah imagines #martin and hamzah #hamzah fluff #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic

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yumeflower · 2 days ago

Note

HIIII!! I’m so happy to see more people writing for Forsaken and the other fandoms you have listen hehe, I just had to send this request in!! Here I go!

May I request Mafioso and 1x1x1x1 with a GN! Reader who blasts music whenever there’s a killing going on and they always get everyone to vibe with them, and they even get the killers to join? And the music can be so random and yet everyone will just go along with it LMAO I need to see their reactions

Thank you again !!!! :D

hey mutual!! Of course I can!! I’m not sure if you wanted this romantic or platonic,so I did platonic! If you wanted romantic I can totally rewrite this!! I hope you like these. Sorry if it’s a little short. And by the way! All my fics are gender neutral,don’t even worry about it <3

Trigger warnings-Skibidi toilet?…,mentions of murder

———————————————————————

🐇💵Mafioso & 💢☠️ 1x1x1x1 With a reader who blasts music!

Mafioso🐇💵

•when he saw you and everyone else dancing to some weird song,he wasn’t even homicidal at the moment.

•this big British mafia man was just,confused. He was smiling,that big hat covering his eyes.

•he snuck up behind you and everyone else dancing to some song that said something like ‘h-o-t-t-o-g-o!!’ He didn’t really get it but he bent down and looked at this person who played the music and just had his head over their shoulder watching them.

•his goons started doing this dance too? He might join in but you had to teach him the dance.

•the next round when he was the killer he was humming it and he saw the dancing person again and said something like “you! Play the hot to go song.”

•this time he sung and danced with everyone,yay?

1x1x1x1☠️💢

•1x1x1x1 was looking for the survivors when he heard a loud song that said something about ‘skibidi’

•he saw the group of people dancing,easy targets.

•he watched a little bit until he spoke up “eugh,hello.”

•he was about to attack until you pulled him in with everyone else as you all danced to the Skibidi song…

•he started breakdancing and the people lowkey forgot that was the killer,they all started hyping him up!

•after this little mini rave he ended up killing everyone but the mystery dance person…

———————————————————————

Sorry if this was short AUGHAHAHAHAH if this is potentially ooc I’m so sorry but YAYY!!

#mafioso x reader #1x1x1x1 x reader #dream game x reader #forsaken x reader #self ship #roblox x reader

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pdriesta · 1 day ago

Text

CHAPTER SEVEN

baby, i'm talkin' crazy, i need you right in my space"

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

warnings — sexual tension, toxic relationships, mature themes (minors dni)

word count — 8k

summary — y/n, a rising r&b star, is stuck in toxic situationships, with tabloids constantly overshadowing her music. to fix her image, her team pushes her into a fake relationship with liverpool’s trent alexander-arnold. both reluctant, they soon realize keeping things strictly business isn't so simple. will pretending to be in love stay a game, or turn into something real?

an — i am sorry for the late update! i've been ill :( stream all of AAA and how does it feel by flo!!

masterlist

trent’s text had been annoyingly vague.

trent: come over. we need to talk.

y/n hadn’t expected much. she figured it would be another tense conversation about keeping up appearances or whatever trent decided was his priority of the day. but as she stepped through the door of his house, she was hit with an overwhelming wave of chatter, laughter, and the smell of home-cooked food that wrapped around her like a familiar hug.

his whole family was there.

“y/n!” trent’s mom was the first to greet her, pulling her into a warm hug, her arms squeezing just tight enough to make y/n forget to breathe for a second. she pulled back, eyes warm and scanning y/n with the kind of softness that made her heart clench.

“finally! trent’s told us so much about you.”

“oh, has he?” y/n raised a brow, her voice laced with humor as she glanced at trent, who stood behind her looking like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“mum, don’t start,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“oh, hush, trent.” his mom waved him off, her full attention returning to y/n. “you’re even prettier than i imagined,” she said, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “and your music! it’s so good. we’ve all been listening.”

y/n’s eyes widened in surprise. “really?”

“absolutely. you’re incredibly talented, love. you should be so proud of yourself.” trent’s mom reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “and i’m proud of you. it’s not easy doing what you do, but you’ve done it with such grace. you’re strong, and you’re good for my son.”

the words hit y/n like a punch to the chest, knocking the air right out of her. she felt her throat tighten as she tried to swallow the sudden wave of emotion. the absence of her mother, felt so stark in that moment, it was suffocating. she hadn’t heard words like that in so long—words filled with love, warmth, and pride.

she blinked quickly, forcing herself to breathe, to pull it together. she couldn’t break down here, not in front of trent’s family.

but trent noticed. of course, he did.

from his place beside her, he watched the way her lips pressed into a thin line, how her eyes dropped to the floor for just a second too long. he saw the way she tried to cover the rawness in her expression with a small, polite smile.

“mum,” trent said, his voice softer now, stepping in before y/n could crumble under the weight of her own emotions. “don’t overwhelm her, yeah?”

his mom chuckled, clearly oblivious to the storm brewing inside y/n. “oh, nonsense. she’s family now.”

trent placed a hand on y/n’s back, grounding her. his thumb traced slow, soothing circles as he leaned down, voice low enough for only her to hear. “you okay?”

she nodded, blinking up at him with a grateful smile. “yeah. i’m good.”

but he knew better. and so, he kept his hand there, steady and reassuring, while his mom continued to talk, her voice soft and filled with love.

before y/n could process much else, a younger alexander-arnold siblin—who had to be marcel—rushed over, his eyes wide with excitement. “y/n! oh my days, i can’t believe you’re actually here.”

she laughed, taken aback by his energy. “hi, and you must be marcel?”

“yeah, yeah, that’s me. okay, i have to say it—you’re, like, my celebrity crush. this is mad.”

y/n felt her cheeks heat up, but she grinned, playing it off. “well, thank you. that’s very sweet.”

“marcel, chill,” trent groaned, pulling his brother back by the collar of his shirt. “you’re gonna scare her off.”

“what? i’m just being honest!” marcel protested, his voice cracking slightly as he looked at y/n. “you’re even prettier in person, by the way.”

“okay, that’s enough,” trent cut in, giving marcel a pointed look. “go help dad or something.”

y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the exchange, especially when marcel shot her an exaggerated wink before walking off.

for the rest of the night, trent didn’t take his eyes off her. he watched how she slowly relaxed again, how she laughed with marcel, how she charmed his sister-in-law and mum. and though she was still a little quieter than usual, she never let her guard slip again.

but trent had seen it—the way her walls had cracked for just a second, leaving a glimpse of something tender and broken underneath.

and he couldn’t shake it.

the hours passed in a blur of laughter, food, and playful teasing. y/n found herself easing into the warmth of the alexander-arnold family, who welcomed her like one of their own. but the real chaos started during an intense game of uno, with everyone shouting and accusing each other of cheating before they began to trickle home, leaving y/n, trent and the youngest alexander-arnold sibling (who his mum mocked for "thirdwheeling").

“you’re so bad at this game,” y/n teased trent, placing down a draw four card with a triumphant grin.

“you’re cheating,” he shot back, narrowing his eyes at her.

“sounds like someone’s a sore loser,” she quipped, earning laughs from his siblings.

marcel, ever the instigator, suddenly leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “now that you’re basically part of the family, y/n, i’ve got to ask you something.”

she raised a brow, intrigued. “what’s that?”

“your exes,” he said bluntly, making everyone pause.

trent groaned loudly, his head falling back against the couch. “marcel, don’t.”

“no, no, i gotta know,” marcel insisted, ignoring his brother’s protests. “what’s real and what’s fake? i mean, with all the articles and stuff… i’m curious.”

y/n couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “seems like everyone’s interested in that topic lately.”

marcel pulled out his phone, opening an article from The Sun. “okay, let’s start with the obvious—jadon.”

y/n’s cheeks flushed, and she shyly nodded. “yeah… that one’s true.”

trent scoffed immediately, sitting up straighter. “not anymore,” he muttered under his breath, earning a pointed look from y/n.

marcel grinned, clearly enjoying the tension. “alright, what about central cee?”

y/n scrunched her nose in visible disgust. “nope. we have a song together, sure. but people handled that. i think we’ve said maybe three words to each other. that’s it.”

trent couldn’t hide his smile at her answer, which only annoyed her more.

“okay, next—damson idris.”

y/n sighed dramatically, a dreamy look crossing her face. “i wish.”

trent immediately stiffened, his jaw tightening. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

marcel, catching his brother’s reaction, smirked. “y/n’s got a type, and it’s definitely not you.”

trent shot him a glare, but y/n, sensing an opportunity to tease him, leaned closer with a sly smile. “you’re still my best boyfriend, though… unless damson calls me. then i’m out the door.”

trent rolled his eyes, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “no one would be able to deal with your attitude anyway.”

the banter continued until marcel brought up one more name. “what about tee higgins?”

y/n’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “yes,” she admitted quietly.

marcel’s eyes lit up. “oh, an american football player? now this is interesting.”

trent frowned, his gaze snapping to y/n. “what’s that about?”

she shrugged nonchalantly, trying to downplay it. “i was in america for a show, and he came out. we hung out a bit, and that was it.”

trent’s frown deepened, jealousy simmering just beneath the surface. “i don’t like it.”

y/n raised a brow, clearly amused. “well, good thing it’s not up to you.”

“i’m the only footballer you need,” he said firmly, his tone possessive.

y/n, ever the instigator herself, leaned closer with a teasing smile. “oh, but tee was such a pretty boy. just my type.”

trent didn’t say anything at first, but the twitch in his jaw and the fire in his eyes said enough. without warning, he reached over and pulled her onto his lap, his fingers digging into her sides as he started tickling her mercilessly.

“take it back,” he demanded, a rare smile breaking through his usual seriousness.

“never!” y/n squealed, squirming in his grasp as she laughed uncontrollably.

marcel, watching the chaos unfold, smirked. “mission accomplished.” he stood up, stretching lazily. “i’ll leave you two to it. try not to kill each other.”

as soon as marcel left the room, trent loosened his grip, letting y/n catch her breath. she stayed on his lap, her face flushed from laughter, and looked at him with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“you’re ridiculous, you know that?” she said, still breathless.

“and you’re annoying,” he shot back, though his tone was far softer than usual.

they stayed like that for a moment longer, the playful tension between them giving way to something quieter, something almost tender. but neither of them said a word about it, both too stubborn to acknowledge whatever was brewing beneath the surface.

lately, things between them had shifted—soft, almost imperceptible at first, but unmistakable now. more outings. more moments that felt like stolen pieces of something bigger. trent was the type to just tell her to be ready, showing up at her door with no explanation, sweeping her away to hidden corners of the city like it was her own personal fairytale.

but it wasn’t really a fairytale. it was them, caught somewhere between friends and something dangerously close to more.

tonight was no different.

the restaurant hummed with quiet conversation, the faint clinking of silverware against plates filling the air. they sat tucked into a cozy corner booth, the warm amber light casting a soft glow over their table. the night felt easy, their laughter and conversation flowing as naturally as ever. it was a date, but not really. just another outing that blurred the lines of what they were supposed to be. yet, trent couldn’t help but think it felt all too real.

she looked beautiful tonight—oversized blazer, mini skirt, heels that showed off her legs, and that barely-there gloss on her lips that caught the light just right. his eyes kept drifting back to her even as she scrolled through the menu, her brows furrowing in thought as she decided what to order.

“i can feel you staring,” she teased without looking up, her lips curling into a playful smile.

trent leaned back, unbothered. “can you blame me?”

she shook her head with a laugh, but a blush crept up her neck anyway.

moments like this were dangerous. they tiptoed on the edge of something unspoken, both of them too stubborn—or too afraid—to admit how much they liked it here, caught in their own grey area.

he couldn’t say it aloud, but this was starting to feel like more than just fun, more than just convenience. he didn’t just like her company—he wanted it. craved it.

and the way her eyes lit up every time he showed up at her door, no questions asked, told him she felt it too.

but neither of them dared to say it. not yet.

his leg bounced nervously under the table, the question he’d been trying to ask sitting heavy on his chest. he wasn’t usually like this—hesitant, unsure—but something about asking her felt… different.

“so, what are you thinking of getting?” she asked, glancing up at him, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

“uh, haven’t decided yet,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. his nerves were getting the better of him. the words were right there, on the tip of his tongue, but every time he opened his mouth, they refused to come out.

y/n tilted her head at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “you okay? you’ve been weirdly quiet all night.”

“yeah, yeah, i’m fine,” he said quickly, shaking his head as if to clear it. “just… thinkin’.”

she didn’t push, simply nodding and turning her attention back to the menu, but trent knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. he needed to ask before he lost his nerve completely.

“hey,” he said suddenly, making her look up again.

“what?” she asked, her voice curious.

he hesitated, running a hand over his jaw. “so… england’s playing at wembley next week,” he started, trying to sound casual. “and, uh, i was wondering if you’d want to come. you know, to… match.”

her face softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. “of course,” she said easily. “i mean, it’s a public outing, right? gotta play the part of the supportive girlfriend.”

her words were lighthearted, teasing, but they still made his chest tighten. because that’s all it was supposed to be—playing a part. but lately, it didn’t feel like pretending anymore.

“yeah,” he said, forcing a grin. “exactly.”

the conversation moved on, and they ordered their food, but the comfortable rhythm of their night was broken when y/n suddenly cleared her throat, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin.

“trent?”

“hm?” he glanced up from his plate, his brows lifting in curiosity.

she hesitated, her eyes darting to his before quickly looking away. “i, um… i wanted to ask you something.”

“yeah? what’s up?”

she bit her lip, clearly nervous, and it made his stomach twist. whatever she was about to say, it was important.

“zaia and cash’s wedding is coming up,” she started, her voice quieter than usual. “and… i was wondering if you’d be my date.”

the words hung in the air between them, heavier than he expected.

trent blinked, taken aback. he knew how close she was to zaia—her best friend since childhood. this wasn’t just any wedding. it was a big deal, and she was asking him.

his thoughts spiraled. was this just another part of their arrangement? was she asking because it made sense, because they were supposed to be seen together? or did it mean something more?

but then he looked at her—at the way her hands nervously played with her napkin, the way she avoided his gaze, her cheeks faintly pink. there was something shy and vulnerable about her in that moment, something that tugged at a part of him he couldn’t quite name.

“it’s just… you know, it’s a big deal,” she rambled, her fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt. “they’re my family—like, real family, not just close friends—and everyone’s gonna be there. my best friends, my mom, everyone.” she paused, taking a breath. “i usually just go to these things solo and handle it fine. i’m okay flying solo most of the time, actually, but—”

her words tumbled out so fast that she barely had time to breathe between them, her voice rising slightly as nerves took over. she glanced up at him, her cheeks warm, feeling a little ridiculous for putting so much weight on this. “i don’t usually… ask anyone to stuff like this. but it feels right, asking you. so… yeah.”

trent’s chest tightened as her words settled over him. she was trying to sound casual, but this wasn’t casual at all. not for her.

she didn’t just bring anyone into that world—into something as sacred as family.

her family was private. important. untouchable.

and here she was, asking him to be a part of it.

“y/n,” he said, his voice softer than he intended, eyes searching hers.

she shifted under his gaze, suddenly regretting everything. “you don’t have to say yes, by the way,” she added quickly, trying to backtrack. “it’s totally fine if you’re busy or if it’s too much, i’ll just—”

“i’d love to,” trent interrupted, his lips curving into a slow smile.

her breath caught. “really?”

“yeah,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes holding hers with a warmth that made her feel like maybe she hadn’t just made a fool of herself. “i’m honored you even asked. it’s not just a wedding—it’s your family’s wedding.” he paused, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “that means a lot.”

she smiled back at him, the tension in her shoulders easing. “good,” she said softly, her voice steadying. “i’m glad you’ll be there.”

trent couldn’t stop thinking about how big this was. being her date meant something. being seen with her at something so personal, so intimate—she was letting him into a world she didn’t share with just anyone.

and he didn’t take that lightly.

the air in the stands was electric as fans filtered out of the stadium, still buzzing from england’s triumphant match. y/n was caught up in it all, her excitement evident in the way she practically glowed as she spoke to trent’s family about the game. she couldn’t stop smiling, her phone clutched tightly in her hands, still warm from snapping pictures throughout the match.

she hadn’t expected trent to come up to them so soon after the final whistle, but when she spotted him climbing the steps toward their section, her breath caught. his medal glinted under the stadium lights, the man of the match trophy in his hands as his gaze landed on her almost instantly.

he greeted his family first, sharing hugs and quick words of gratitude, but then he turned to her, his grin softening into something almost shy.

“you played incredible,” she said before he could say anything, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.

“yeah?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes searching hers, as if her opinion mattered more than anyone else’s.

“you know you did.”

without a word, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, the gesture so quick and fleeting it almost felt imagined. her heart skipped at the contact, but she told herself it was just for the cameras. there were plenty of phones around, after all, and a player celebrating with someone in the stands was always a headline. she convinced herself it meant nothing as he handed her the trophy and slid into the seat between her and marcel.

“here,” he said, nodding toward the gleaming silver in her hands. “you should hold it.”

“what?” she blinked at him, cradling the trophy like it was fragile. “you’re seriously letting me hold this?

“why not?” he shrugged, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “looks better in your hands anyway.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile pulling at her lips. her fingers traced over the engraving as she admired it up close, the weight of it grounding her excitement.

“pose with it,” trent said, pulling out his phone

“pose?” she laughed, glancing around nervously. “for what?”

“for appearances, of course,” he teased, his tone light but his eyes warm.

y/n gave him a mock glare but shifted the trophy slightly, holding it up as she puckered her lips in a playful air kiss. trent snapped a few photos, his grin widening with each click. when she lowered the trophy, she caught him staring at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen as he uploaded one to his story.

“what?” she asked, raising a brow.

“nothing,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. but the way his smile lingered told her everything she needed to know.

as the conversation around them flowed, trent leaned closer, his attention fully on her now. “so,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “how’d you like the match?”

“oh, i loved it!” she said, her face lighting up. she unlocked her phone, scrolling quickly before turning the screen toward him. “look, i got some great pictures. see this one? and this? oh, and this!”

she flipped through shot after shot, her excitement spilling over with every frame. trent didn’t say much, just watched her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. pride, maybe? or something else entirely?

“you’re really into this, huh?” he asked, his voice soft.

“of course!” she said, glancing at him briefly before focusing back on her phone. “how could i not be? you were amazing out there, trent. seriously.”

he smiled at that, his chest swelling at the sincerity in her voice. “thanks,” he said quietly, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer before he turned back to the ongoing conversation, though his attention never fully left her.

she was wearing his shirt, holding his trophy, sitting with his family. it felt… right. and he didn’t want to let the moment go.

she was still scrolling through her phone, her excitement making her words tumble over each other as she recounted her favorite moments of the match. “and this one—look at how sharp you look here. oh, and this one’s from the free kick! the angle is perfect. i’m telling you, trent, you looked—”

he couldn’t help it anymore. the way her eyes sparkled when she talked, the way she was so genuinely proud of him, it made his chest ache in the best way. she was buzzing, glowing with excitement, and trent was captivated.

“y/n,” he said softly, interrupting her mid-sentence.

“what?” she asked, glancing up at him, her brows furrowing slightly.

before she could say anything else, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, cutting her off completely. it wasn’t hurried or forceful, just deliberate, like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment. her lips were soft, warm, and he could taste the faint sweetness of whatever lip balm she was wearing.

she froze for a second, her phone slipping slightly in her hands as the kiss caught her off guard. her heart was pounding, and when he finally pulled back, just enough to look her in the eye, her cheeks burned.

“what was that for?,” she breathed, her voice quiet and unsure.

“just cause,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering.

her lips parted, but no words came out. y/n, who always had something clever to say, was speechless for once, her thoughts racing faster than she could process.

“you—you can’t just do that,” she finally managed, her voice a mix of shyness and disbelief.

he chuckled softly, his hand brushing against hers as he leaned back slightly. “why not?”

“because…” she trailed off, her cheeks still flushed.

“because?” he prompted, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

she shook her head, unable to form a coherent response. instead, she turned back to her phone, pretending to focus on the screen even though she couldn’t stop glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

but trent didn’t stop watching her, his expression soft and full of something she couldn’t quite name. she felt it in the air between them, unspoken but undeniable. and as much as she wanted to brush it off, she couldn’t shake the way her chest tightened every time he looked at her like that.

the studio always felt like a different world to trent. a little sanctuary tucked away from everything, with dim lighting, soundproof walls, and the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air. it was hers—every detail, every piece of equipment, every soft hum of music that filled the space—it all belonged to y/n in a way nothing else did. he could see it in the way she moved, the way her shoulders dropped in relief as soon as she crossed the threshold.

he liked being here. maybe a little too much.

his eyes drifted to her across the room as she adjusted a mic stand, her braids falling over her shoulder, lips slightly pursed in concentration. she had that effortless kind of beauty, the kind that hit him harder when she wasn’t even trying. no cameras, no crowds—just her, in her element.

he wanted to tell her how good she looked. how proud he was every time she let him listen to a new track. how his chest felt lighter just being near her. but he couldn’t. not really. not without risking the quiet thing they had, this unspoken closeness that felt too fragile to push.

because y/n was quick to pull away. always had been. she had a way of retreating whenever things got too heavy, too real. trent learned to read the signs: the slight shift in her tone, the way her smile would falter for a second before she’d brush it off with a joke. she’d never say it outright, but he knew her well enough to know when she was putting up walls.

so he stayed quiet. kept it light. he’d rather sit here and be a part of her world in whatever way she’d let him than risk saying something that would make her push him out.

“you sure you’re not bored?” y/n asked, turning to him with a raised brow, her eyes catching the soft light from the corner of the room.

“nah,” he said easily, leaning back in his chair, his lips curling into a small smile. “i like watching you work.”

she rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her lips twitched at the edges, trying not to smile back. “you say that now. wait until i start obsessing over one line for twenty minutes.”

trent chuckled, his gaze never leaving her. “i’ll survive.”

for y/n, it was strange having him here. this place had always been hers—a space where she could be messy, raw, vulnerable. no one ever stayed long enough to see what it meant to her. but trent was different.

he didn’t ask too many questions. didn’t hover or try to take control. he just… fit. like he belonged here without even trying.

she glanced at him from the corner of her eye as she fiddled with the controls. it felt good, having him here. warm, steady, grounding. almost dangerous, how easily she had gotten used to his presence.

y/n stood in the booth, her voice filling the studio with a sultry richness that had everyone’s attention, but none more so than trent’s. he leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on her like she was the only thing in the room. she had this magnetic pull, something about her that made everything else disappear when she sang.

the track rolled into the second verse, and y/n’s voice dropped lower, almost like a secret, smooth and dripping with confidence. it curled around the words like they were meant to tease, to challenge.

"i bet you feel like that man when you next to me, just as you should. i know that you like your hands up on my body, toss me, it’s good..."

trent’s breath hitched, his jaw tightening as her words wrapped around him. the way she sang that—playful, almost daring—made his chest feel tight. he knew this was just music, knew she wasn’t supposed to be singing to him. but damn if it didn’t feel like she was. every line sent a jolt through him, her voice steady, deliberate.

"but you better play your position, don’t let it slip, better not fold. need loyalty, ‘cause i’m royalty with this grip, treat it like gold..."

his fingers tapped restlessly on his knee, his mind spiraling. this grip, treat it like gold... it wasn’t a stretch to imagine y/n writing those lines with him in mind. the thought made his stomach twist—half with pride, half with something much deeper. she was always guarded, never giving too much away, but this... this felt like a glimpse into the parts of her she kept locked up.

he wondered what it would be like if this wasn’t just a song. if they weren’t just flirting around the edges of something real. if he could actually claim her—not just in private moments but out there, for everyone to see. trent alexander-arnold, dating the biggest r&b talent in the game. the image burned itself into his brain, filling him with a dangerous kind of pride.

y/n finished the verse, stepping out of the booth with that casual confidence she always carried. she grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, taking a long sip, avoiding his gaze—like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“you wrote that?” trent asked finally, his voice low and rough.

she glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “yeah. it’s just a song.”

just a song, but his heart was still racing.

“that might be my new favorite,” he said, his hand finding her knee, thumb brushing over the fabric of her sweats. “seriously... loved it.”

her lips curved slightly, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—something vulnerable. “really?” she asked softly. she felt a warmth creep up her neck, her heart speeding up for reasons she couldn’t admit. the song was about him—every line, every note. but she’d never say that out loud.

“yeah,” trent said, his gaze holding hers. “i’ve listened to all your music. thought mad at me was the one, but this takes the cake.

y/n smiled softly as she let trent’s words sink in, her heart fluttering in a way she wasn’t used to. the quiet between them felt tender, almost fragile, like neither of them wanted to break it. she was about to say something, maybe even thank him again, when the engineer called her name, asking her to head back into the booth to re-record a section.

trent frowned immediately, his brows pulling together. "what? that was perfect," he said, his hand still resting on her knee as if to keep her in place. his voice held a mix of disbelief and protectiveness, like he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to change a single thing.

y/n laughed softly, reaching over to squeeze his wrist. "it’s just how it works," she teased, her voice light as she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "don’t look so offended."

his frown eased slightly, but he still didn’t seem convinced. "nah, seriously, they don’t know what they’re doing. it’s already a hit."

she shook her head, laughing again as she stood, adjusting her hoodie. "you’re biased," she said, giving him a playful look. "but thanks."

he leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms as he watched her. "so how long are you gonna be in there this time?"

she glanced over her shoulder as she reached the booth door. "could be a while," she admitted, shrugging. "if you wanna head out, it’s cool."

trent scoffed, sitting up straighter. "and leave you here? nah, i’m good."

her lips curved into a warm smile, something soft flickering in her chest. "okay," she said, her voice quieter this time.

as she stepped into the booth, she could still feel his gaze on her, steady and reassuring. even as the door closed behind her and the music started up again, she couldn’t help the way her cheeks burned from the memory of his words, his touch, and that quiet, tender moment that had left her feeling more seen than she ever had before.

trent’s living room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the television casting shadows across the room. fifa commentary droned in the background, but trent wasn’t paying attention anymore. his eyes flicked between the game and y/n, who was curled up against him, scrolling through tiktok with a lazy ease. her head rested on his chest, braids spilling over his arm as she chuckled softly at a video.

“look at this one,” she said, turning the phone toward him. “this trend is everywhere.”

he glanced at it briefly, smirking. “why do i feel like you’re about to make me do one of those with you?”

“because i am,” she teased, poking his side. “you’d look cute doing it.”

“not happening,” trent shot back, shaking his head with a laugh. “you’re not embarrassing me on the internet.”

she rolled her eyes dramatically and returned to scrolling, her body relaxed against his. it was comfortable. easy. the kind of easy that snuck up on you and made you forget that there were rules to whatever this was supposed to be.

but then his phone buzzed beside him, the screen lighting up with a notification. he glanced at it instinctively, his jaw tightening when he saw the name.

jadon.

his grip on the controller tightened, and for a moment, he debated saying nothing. but it ate at him too quickly. too loudly.

“you still talking to him?”

y/n blinked, caught off guard. she sat up slightly, her brows furrowed. “what?”

“jadon,” he repeated, nodding toward his phone. “you still talking to him?”

“oh.” her face softened. “i mean... not really. he just checks in sometimes. sees how i’m doing, you know?”

trent’s gaze didn’t waver. “and you’re sure that’s all it is?”

she shrugged, brushing it off like it was nothing. “yeah, it’s innocent. it’s not like he’s—” she paused, catching herself. “it’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.”

the words hit harder than she probably intended, their weight settling heavily between them. she wasn’t wrong—they weren’t together. not really. but hearing her say it out loud made something twist in his chest, a dull ache that caught him off guard.

y/n didn’t notice his shift. she leaned back into him, her focus already back on her phone as if nothing had changed. but for trent, everything had.

he clenched his jaw, the silence growing thicker, pressing in on him. “so you just let him check in? whenever he wants?”

her head shot up, eyes narrowing at the edge in his voice. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

trent leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his back no longer relaxed against the couch. “just seems like he still thinks he has a shot. that’s all i’m saying.”

y/n blinked, processing his sudden change in tone. “and so what if he does? why do you care?”

the question was soft, casual even, but it cut through the tension like a knife.

trent leaned back into the couch, jaw still tight as he watched her, tension crackling between them. the air felt thick, suffocating in the silence that followed. his eyes flicked toward his phone again, and something about the way her name lit up the screen on jadon’s message gnawed at him. his voice dropped lower, a little too sharp.

“you always let him back in, huh? just like before. always putting yourself in another mess.”

y/n froze. her fingers tightened around her phone, her face carefully blank even as her heart lurched at his words. she blinked, processing them, the sting more potent than she expected.

“another mess?” she echoed softly, voice calm but edged with something dangerous. “like this one?”

trent’s breath caught in his throat, his regret immediate. he opened his mouth to take it back, to soften the blow, but the damage was already done.

she sat up straighter, her gaze locking onto his now, eyes shining with something between disbelief and hurt. “if that’s how you see it, trent, then what the hell are we even doing?”

he rubbed a hand over his face, tension rolling off him in waves. “that’s not what I meant—”

“then what did you mean?” she pressed, folding her arms across her chest, her voice cracking slightly at the end. “because it sure sounds like you think this—me, you—was just some kind of mistake.”

trent hated himself for the flicker of pain in her eyes, for how vulnerable she looked in that moment. for how real it felt. he stood up, closing the space between them, his frustration melting into something softer.

“y/n, no,” he said, his voice gentler now. “you’re not a mistake. i didn’t mean it like that.”

“then why would you say it?” her voice dropped to a whisper, her walls cracking just enough for him to see the truth—the doubt she’d been hiding.

she stood anyway, brushing imaginary lint off her leggings. “it’s not a good idea for me to stay.” she paused, her voice quieter this time. “we can’t forget what this is.”

y/n stared at him, her heart in her throat, torn between every instinct screaming at her to protect herself and the pull of his words, his touch. she opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

trent’s voice was barely above a whisper. “don’t go.”

her words felt more like a reminder to herself than him, her eyes refusing to meet his as she grabbed her phone.

“y/n,” trent said, standing too. his hand brushed against hers, lingering for a second too long. “you don’t have to go.”

she shook her head, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “i do.”

he wanted to argue, wanted to pull her back down onto the couch and make her stay until the tension eased and they could go back to laughing at tiktoks. but the look in her eyes stopped him—something fragile and uncertain, something he wasn’t sure he could fix in that moment.

and just like that, she slipped out the door, leaving him standing there, the words he couldn’t say caught in his throat.

trent sat back down, running a hand through his curls, his fifa game still paused on the screen. he hated how much her absence suddenly filled the room, how the air felt heavier without her in it.

and all he could think about was the way she said, we can’t forget what this is—because the truth was, trent wasn’t sure what this was anymore. but whatever it was, it mattered. more than he was ready to admit.

the bridal shop smelled like fresh fabric and lavender candles, soft afrobeats playing faintly in the background. racks of flowing gowns lined the walls, glittering under the warm lights. y/n hadn’t been to a fitting like this in forever, surrounded by zaia and her cousins, laughter spilling from every corner of the shop. it felt easy, familiar, and for a moment, she forgot how much she’d missed this—how lonely things had felt lately, despite how much she loved trent’s company.

she loved being around him, craved it even, but the lines were getting blurry. dangerous.

as she disappeared behind the curtain, the air shifted, quieter, almost intimate. the fabric of the emerald green gown was soft beneath her fingertips, heavy and rich, embroidered with gold and glittering stones that caught the light every time she moved. y/n adjusted it carefully, catching her reflection in the mirror. for a second, a fleeting thought crossed her mind—if she ever had a wedding of her own, would it look like this? would she wear something this stunning?

but no man came to mind. not really.

her brain whispered a name, low and familiar, but she shook it off. it wasn’t trent. it couldn’t be.

“god, this dress is heavy,” y/n called out, brushing the thought away as she adjusted the fabric on her shoulder.

“beauty is pain, babe,” one of zaia’s cousins teased, laughing from the other side of the curtain.

zaia’s voice was calm, steady. “is it fitting okay?”

“yeah,” y/n said softly, smoothing the front one last time before glancing at herself again. for a second, she let herself admire the way it clung to her curves, the way it made her feel like royalty. the matching fan rested on a stool nearby, waiting to complete the look.

behind the curtain, she hesitated, glancing at zaia. “you really think it’s okay if i bring trent to the wedding?” her voice was softer now, a little unsure.

zaia arched a brow, leaning forward on the cushioned bench. “why wouldn’t it be okay?”

y/n shrugged, fingers brushing the delicate stones on her dress. “i don’t know. it’s just… complicated.”

zaia tilted her head, her tone casual, but there was something in her eyes—something sharp. “complicated how? y/n, you’ve been spending all your time with him lately. it’s cute, but… girl, you know you’re gonna have to tell that boy you like him eventually, right?”

y/n peeked at zaia, eyes wide. “it’s not like that,” she muttered, though her pulse picked up at the words.

zaia smirked. “oh, it’s not? babe, it’s like watching a slow-motion car wreck. you both like each other, and it’s so obvious it hurts. just do something about it before we all go insane.”

y/n’s laugh was soft, almost nervous. “you’re dramatic.”

“you’re in denial,” zaia shot back, grinning.

before y/n could respond, she took a breath, pushed back the curtain, and stepped out. every conversation in the room stopped, all eyes snapping to her as she walked into the light, the gown shimmering with every step.

“y/n…” zaia whispered, standing slowly. “you look… beautiful.”

y/n spun in front of the mirror, her lips curving into a small smile. “you think? i feel like a princess or something.”

“a queen,” zaia corrected, her eyes warm. “green is definitely your color.”

the cousins agreed, pulling out their phones to snap pictures, laughter filling the space again as one of them adjusted y/n’s gele, making sure it sat perfectly.

but then, just as everything settled, zaia’s expression shifted—her lips parting slightly, her eyes suddenly glassy.

y/n froze, her heart thudding. “zaia, are you… crying?”

zaia laughed through her tears, wiping her face quickly. “sorry, i’ve just been… emotional lately. it’s ridiculous.”

concern flickered across y/n’s face. “are you okay? should i call cash?” she asked, already reaching for her phone.

zaia grabbed her wrist gently, shaking her head. “no, no—don’t call him. actually, there’s… something we were going to tell you together today, but…” her voice cracked. “i can’t wait. i need you to know now.”

y/n’s breath caught. “zaia, what is it?”

zaia hesitated for just a moment before the words tumbled out in a rush. “i’m pregnant.” her voice shook as she spoke, a soft sob escaping her lips. “you’re the first person i’ve told.”

the world tilted slightly, y/n’s mind struggling to catch up. her eyes welled up instantly, her hand flying to her mouth. “zaia… are you serious?”

zaia nodded, tears streaming down her face. “i’ve been dying to tell you. cash and i were going to do it together, but… i couldn’t wait. i needed you to know.”

y/n almost buckled at the weight of it, rushing forward to wrap zaia in a tight hug, their bodies trembling together as tears fell freely.

“oh my god,” y/n whispered against her shoulder, her voice thick with emotion. “i’m so happy for you. you’re going to be the most amazing mom. i can’t believe this.”

zaia laughed through her sobs, clutching y/n tighter. “thank you. i was so nervous, but… hearing you say that makes me feel like everything’s going to be okay.”

y/n pulled back just enough to cup zaia’s face, wiping her tears gently. her own tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t care. “it is going to be okay. more than okay. and i’ll be here with you every step of the way, you hear me?”

zaia nodded, sniffling. “i hear you.”

a beat of silence passed, warm and steady, before y/n laughed softly, shaking her head. “i’m gonna be the best aunt.”

zaia’s smile brightened, her eyes sparkling. “god mother. we want you to be the baby’s godmother.”

the words hung in the air for a second, heavy and beautiful.

y/n’s mouth fell open, her hand flying to her chest. “zaia… are you serious?”

“of course,” zaia said, her voice cracking again. “there’s no one else it could be.”

the tears returned full force, and y/n hugged her again, clutching her tightly. “i love you so much,” she whispered.

“i love you too,” zaia said softly.

and as they stood there, wrapped in their own little world, y/n knew this moment would stay with her forever—a reminder that love came in all forms, steady and unwavering, right when you needed it most.

y/n pulled into trent’s driveway, the car’s headlights casting long shadows on the driveway. her pulse quickened, but it wasn’t just from the excitement of seeing him again. she had needed to be near him, to escape the overwhelming sense of closeness she had felt at the fitting. the laughter, the hugs, the anticipation of her best friend’s wedding... it had all left her with a bittersweet ache in her chest. she had been happy, but it only highlighted how much she longed for something deeper, more intimate, something to anchor her in the midst of the swirling love and joy.

when the door opened, trent stood there, casual in a hoodie and sweatpants, looking effortlessly perfect. his eyes immediately locked onto hers, searching her face with that familiar intensity.

“have you been crying?” his voice softened, the concern obvious in his eyes.

y/n gave a half-smile, blinking rapidly to hold back any more tears. “happy tears,” she said, but there was a lingering tremor in her voice. “it was a good day. zaia’s wedding is really coming together.”

trent didn't look convinced. he reached for her hand, pulling her into the warmth of the house without saying another word. the house was quiet, cozy, and comforting in a way only trent’s home could be.

“you sure you’re okay?” trent asked again, his voice low and calm as he led her to the living room. “you’ve got that look.”

“i’m fine,” y/n insisted, brushing it off as she sat down beside him on the couch. “i just didn’t feel like being alone after everything. thought i’d come here, you know?”

trent settled beside her, his arm easily wrapping around her, pulling her closer. they both sank into the couch, the soft fabric of the cushions embracing them like a cocoon. y/n rested her head on his chest, and for a moment, all she could hear was the steady thud of his heartbeat, a calming rhythm she found herself syncing with.

there was something comforting about the way trent always seemed to know when she needed him. the way he held her without question, without hesitation. it made her feel like she belonged, even if it was only for this moment. he gently stroked her back, a slow, soothing motion that made her feel safe.

“you looked really beautiful tonight, you know?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “something about you in that dress—it was like you were glowing. i could see it. i mean, i always think you look good, but tonight was... different.”

y/n chuckled softly, her lips brushing against his chest. “i wasn’t even planning to go, but i’m glad i did. you’re sweet for saying that.”

they sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the crackle of the fire in the corner of the room and the soft music playing in the background. but after a while, y/n shifted, her thoughts swirling again. her mind wandered to the wedding, to the love in the room, to the future that seemed so certain for her friends and family... and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that clung to her heart.

“do you ever think about getting married?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost hesitant as she gazed up at him, her face just inches from his.

trent’s eyebrows knitted together in surprise, his hand pausing mid-motion on her back. “where did that come from?”

y/n shrugged, forcing a lighthearted smile. “well, not to me, not like that,” she joked quickly, but there was an edge of something deeper to her words. “i mean, in general, you know?”

he leaned back, his eyes scanning her face as if trying to read something between the lines. after a moment of hesitation, he nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “yeah, i’ve thought about it. when the right person comes along, i guess.”

there was a slight pause, a quiet moment where they both seemed to be waiting for something unspoken. trent’s eyes softened as he considered the idea, his mind drifting.

y/n waited, but when he didn’t speak, she tilted her head, looking up at him curiously. “what? no ‘you’ in there?” she teased lightly.

“well...” he paused again, as if the thought had just occurred to him. and yet, as he imagined the life he might want, he couldn’t picture it with anyone but her. it was as if she had always been there in the background of his mind, the one constant he never truly acknowledged until now.

he imagined waking up beside her on lazy mornings, the sound of her laughter filling their shared home as they made breakfast together. he saw the two of them walking hand in hand through a park on a crisp autumn afternoon, with the warmth of their connection tangible, unshakable. he imagined late nights in their living room, surrounded by books, papers, and random ideas, sharing thoughts, dreams, and fears.

he imagined them growing old together—her smile still as bright, her laugh still as contagious, but the lines of age marking their faces, evidence of a life well-lived. he couldn’t picture a future without her, without the way she made him feel: grounded, loved, understood.

“i can only picture you, y/n,” he wanted to say quietly, his voice filled with a raw sincerity that surprised him. “when i think about spending my life with someone... it’s you. i can’t see anyone else. maybe that sounds crazy, but it’s just the truth.”

“yeah,” he settled on, his voice softer now. “when the right person comes along, i guess.”

y/n felt a rush of warmth in her chest, her heart swelling in a way she hadn’t expected. “i used to think it wasn’t in the cards for me,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of his shirt absentmindedly. “like maybe love and marriage... it wasn’t for me. i thought i wasn’t lovable enough for something like that.”

trent’s heart ached at her words, and without thinking, he pulled her closer, brushing his lips against her forehead. “you’re more than enough, y/n. you’re everything. never think you’re anything less than that.”

her breath caught again, the tears threatening to return. but she fought them back, focusing on his words, on the warmth of his arms around her.

“i don’t know,” she whispered. “maybe marriage is possible. maybe... maybe it’s something i can see for myself now. maybe with the right person.”

trent’s hand cupped her face gently, lifting her gaze to meet his. “you’re never going to be alone, y/n. not with me.”

the sincerity in his voice was almost too much, and y/n swallowed hard, feeling overwhelmed by everything. but it felt right. being here with him, in his arms, feeling safe, feeling loved.

she smiled softly. “thanks for always being here for me.”

“always,” trent whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead again.

they sat there in silence, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air, but there was something peaceful in it, too. for the first time in a long time, y/n felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone in the world. maybe, just maybe, she was meant for more than she had ever believed.

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