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leclarifies · 5 hours ago

Text

letters (MV33)

✰ max verstappen x childhoodbestfriend!reader ✰

summary → it was confusing, even though you were continents apart, you never understood why max never responded to your letters, until you attend the belgium gp to finally get the answers you were looking for. inspired by the prompt, "why did you never reply to my letters?" "you wrote me letters?"

genre → fluffy, the fluffiest fluff i've ever fluffed.

word count → 4.4k

author's note → i have worked on this non-stop for two days, and i loved the way it turned out, maybe one of my favorite works. enjoy reading this as much as i enjoy writing this!!

she was always around max, either from the sidelines or the first person max ran to when he won a race, it was always her. not even his father, even though he held his father to the highest regard, but it was always her.

the little wrinkles on the edge of her eyes when she smiled at him, the way her lips would curl up, or the way she would giggle every. single. time. that he would come and hug her after every race finish. he remembers it all. and the way he would snuggle his face in the crook of her neck and asked her softly after he would win a race, 'did you see me win, schatje?'

she would always smile back with a laugh, 'of course i did maxie.'

it was always about max, her life revolved around him, whether he liked it or not. she adored him and maybe he adored her a little bit more. they were childhood friends, they were inseparable since they were little babies, their mothers being friends made it even harder for the both of them to not be attached at the hip.

she loved being in his presence and he loved her.

the divorce between jos and sophie was hard on max, he blamed himself and his career but she was always there to tell him that it's not his fault. that their decision was their own and she never forgot to tell max that it wasn't his fault, no matter how much they told him that it was.

she saw the way jos had pushed max to his limits, get physical with his own son and his way of escaping that life was run to her arms, she was there tending to every bruise, every wound whether physical or emotional. she was his rock and it was final. nothing anyone could ever say or do would change his name.

"schatje," max had gently woken her up from her slumber, and she stirred awake from his soft voice, she noticed where she was and finally remembered what happened.

max had finished lower than expected and jos had thrown hurtful things about max, she was there on his mother's couch, comforting him and had fallen asleep that way, with max on her lap, "are you sleepy?"

she shook her head, not wanting to admit that yes, indeed she was sleepy, but if max needed comfort then that wasn't a big deal to her, "what's wrong maxie?"

"nothing, you can sleep on my bed if you're tired. i can sleep here," max had brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear but she refused, she hated taking his bed because she knew how uncomfortable the couch was, she wanted him to sleep well.

but he wouldn't allow her to take the couch, so they both slept on sophie's couch almost cuddled with eachother because they were both stubborn.

max was necessarily content with how he was living his life right now, but she made it better and that's all he could ask for. was it her smile? maybe her presence? max didn't care. the first memory he could remember from his early childhood was her, and it was etched into his memory like stone.

she was content with being max's rock, she was there to keep him grounded and she too only had memories of him from her early childhood. she wouldn't replace him for the world, he was too precious for anything in this earthly world.

but there was one day, it felt like a bomb dropped on her. her father had told her that he would have to move to korea to continue work, and she didn't know how to break the news to max until a few days before she had to leave.

she knew it was wrong to keep something this big away from max, but she was so stricken with anxiety that she never got the chance to until max came over to her house and saw all the packed boxes with their belongings.

"why didn't you tell me sooner?" max was angry, she could tell, by the way he was pacing around her room, looking at the packed boxes around. max thought he meant more to her than just a measly friend, he felt frustrated— betrayed almost. why wouldn't she tell him? why would she keep something as big as this away from him?

"why didn't you say something before? why now? why before you could see me race this weekend?" max was raising his voice now, and she didn't know what to do. her eyes turned glassy and those doe eyes max loved so much just looked so sad.

she stayed quiet, a guilty look on her face. she knew max would break from the news, and she knew that it would affect his performance, but she didn't know how to stay, how to convince her father that she didn't want to go, so yet again, she stayed silent in important moments of her life.

"schatje, can you say something? say anything?!" max yelled and she flinches, she didn't know what to say or what to do, she wanted to say something, say anything. but nothing would come to her lips. it was so hard for her when he was angry like this, it reminded her of his father and his father was deathly scary when angry.

a sigh escapes max's lips when he sees her flinch, coming close to her to wrap her in a hug. tears escaped from her eyes as she held onto max tight, "i didn't know how to tell you," she whispers into max's ear but max didn't say anything to that, just held her even tighter and he did not want to let go.

"it's okay schatje, i'm not mad at you. i could never get mad at you, i'm sorry for raising my voice. i just don't want you to go," tears started to escape max's eyes too, he didn't want to see her go. he wanted her to stay, and she did too. but the universe was pulling them apart and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

the ride to the airport was tough, being only fifteen and sixteen respectively. max held her hand the entire time, not wanting to let go, he didn't want her to leave, she was his biggest support system and he couldn't imagine her gone like that.

she was the most scared of the two of them, what if her father never returned to belgium? what if she was stuck there in korea forever? what if she never got to see his pretty blue eyes anymore?

max was the one to ground her, no longer lost in her thoughts, "can you promise me we'll keep in touch? or maybe visit from time to time?" max was holding onto her hands tightly, she felt like they would bruise, she could only smile and nod.

her mother had called her over, it was time to go. she looked at max for what it felt like the last time and left her life in belgium.

dear schatje,

hi, this is the first week that you're gone and it's bene been so hard without you here with me. i forgot that you weren't here anymore and i was expecting to see your face, but when i didn't, i may or may not have almost cried.

i miss you so much. tell me how it is in korea, is it cold? do they have bears there? what about the food? is it good? can you eat it? i heard there's a lot of spiy spicy food there? honestly i don't care about what they have there, i just care about you.

when can you visit again? can you tell me if you're ever coming back? i'm so worried about you there, i miss you... so much schatje.

written with a lot of love, your maxie.

max always handed off his letters to his father, telling his father to hand it off to his mother because apparently they kept in contact and wanted to send it off to the post office on behalf of him.

he just wondered how she was doing there.

it's been months and countless of letters max had sent, and none of them replied. he was starting to lose hope, he didn't want to think that his best friend would forget about him so easily like that, but he held out hope. he knew that she wouldn't magically forget about him now that she was there.

jealousy bubbled within him when he realized that she would be meeting new people, what if she met someone like him? who enjoyed karting and wanted to steal her attention?

no, he couldn't be thinking like that. he loved her and he knew she loved him as much as he did, so he told himself to just be patient, maybe letters to korea took months to reach?

the naviety was almost laughable but he was fine with it. he just wanted to hear back from his pretty girl.

"i do not understand why you keep writing letters to that stupid girl, she doesn't reply to you and all it does is distract you," jos had reprimanded his son, but max was stubborn. he didn't care what his father had to say, he loved all of her, even when she was thousands of kilometers away. he wanted to talk, even when she never replied.

max was in the process of writing another letter, but he never listened to his father, not about her. not about how much of a distraction she's been to his career, he didn't care. he used it as motivation to get better on the track, so the next time she saw him, he would be a world champion, that's what he silently promised to her.

it had been two years, and he hadn't heard a peep back. slowly, he was starting to lose hope but he couldn't lose hope, every single time he would send off the letters, he told himself that maybe it got lost in the mail.

max kept writing though.

max's debut in f1 was explosive to say the least, his interviews would absolutely go viral by the things he was saying in them. he didn't understand why, he just said what was on his mind.

what was truly on his mind was her.

was he not good enough for her? was him being in f1 not enough to impress her? why wouldn't she write back?

oh god how he missed her.

he still wrote to her weekly, it was religious at this point. he never forgot and he always told his father to send them off to his mother and the week after that was always disappointment because he wouldn't hear anything back.

little did he know, she never received those letters.

max had slowly stopped writing letters as he got into f1, he didn't see a point in it anymore. she never replied. she didn't care. letters didn't take years to reach korea, and he finally lost hope.

winning his first championship felt empty, the pretty girl who used to be waiting for him wasn't there for him anymore. of course, he was happy to win such an impressive feat, who wouldn't? but it just... lacked her.

max indeed lost hope that she would ever write back, but never lost hope that she was out there, somewhere, watching him race every single week and beat the shit out of his rivals. she loved watching him race and that's what he intended to do until the day he died, he wanted to impress her, maybe that was his ulterior motive to becoming a formula one driver.

all just to impress his best friend who had lost contact with him for a decade now.

"you need to stop figdeting so much," her mother had scolded her, she could only laugh nervously and stop fidgeting around. she wondered why max never wrote back to her, she had written him letters. did he hate her for moving out to korea and not coming to visit belgium?

she shook the thoughts out of her head, she was here now. for his home race, and for the rest of her life. her father had now decided to move back to belgium, because and i quote, 'i don't want my daughter to lose touch with her culture'.

she was 26 now, and she had guessed that he turned 27 not too long ago. it's been so long since she talked to him and she hoped that the spark that she had been yearning for had not been lost to the passages of time.

getting the paddock passes was not easy, it was a war and a half but she managed to snag some for herself and a friend that wanted to visit belgium and would arrive later on in the week.

"how did you even manage to get paddock passes for us?" heejin, her friend that wanted to visit had asked, she could only laugh and explain how she got them, it was a war and a half. heejin laughed along with her as they both arrived and scanned their passes at the entrance.

"i'm gonna meet my best friend here— well it's complicated. i don't think he considers me a best friend anymore, but i still do," she had softly told heejin who was a big formula one fan even before meeting her, heejin raised her eyebrow when she said that.

the both of them were walking down the paddock, passing all of the different team's hospitalities. heejin raised her eyebrow at her friend, who shrugged.

"who's your best friend?" heejin had asked as they pass by the red bull hospitality, she stopped which signalled heejin to stop as well, she looked at the redbull in awe. she hadn't been to a formula one race yet, the closest she'd been was to karting but that didn't bring on the feelings she felt when standing in front of this red bull building.

"well, he's driving the number one car."

"YOUR BEST FRIEND IS MAX VERSTAPPEN?!"

max had heard a girl yell, he slowly turned his head. he was confused, he didn't have a best friend— well not anymore. she had moved to korea, all memories of her stuck in his head being replayed all over and over again.

that's all he had left of her.

the other girl shushed the girl who yelled, and that's when it dawned on max. the other girl looked awfully familiar, he couldn't quite place why she looked so familiar but she looked like her, like his best friend.

"shh! you can't just yell that out in public," she clamped a hand on her friend's mouth, "they're gonna think i'm insane!" then the both of them giggled, it did sound ridiculous but now he was curious.

was she back? was that her? who was she with? is that her new best friend? is that her?

as they both walked away, max wanted to run up to them, to ask that one particular girl what her name was. what she was doing here and who she was with but all of that died when he got approached by his race engineer.

then he forgot all about that familiar girl that he saw in front of the red bull hospitality.

max would only get another glimpse of her when it was race day, they were walking through the paddock in a similar fashion, but max promised to himself that he would approach them, that he would ask but there was doubt in his heart.

what if she forgot about him?

she couldn't, right?

and so approach them he did, tapping the girl that he felt was so familiar to on the shoulder, she had turned around and they had locked eyes.

it was as if she never left.

the sparks, they all came rushing back and then his heart started beating out of his chest, he wanted to ask so many questions, why she was here, who she was with, when she came back— why she came back, why she never wrote him back.

but the only thing that left his lips were a simple, "hi."

heejin was freaking out, she could tell. she knew that heejin was a big red bull fan too, always talking about how the team was dominating and they had the better car. she had heard all about it. but the little dutchboy she left all those years ago was standing in front of her and not-so little anymore and all those thoughts about her girlfriend was forgotten.

he looked the same, but grown and decked out in red bull merch. she wanted to laugh at how innocent he looked when he tapped her on the shoulder to get her to turn around, he looked stupid, stupidly cute.

all of those feelings from when she was back in belgium came back, she almost forgot what it felt like to be around max— her max. he looked like he was going to cry when he got a good look at her, that he finally realized that yes, it's her. the one that left him in belgium all those years ago.

and maybe she could cry too.

"maxie?" a familiar nickname slipped from her lips and she didn't get a response back, but a bear hug in return.

god, her scent. it was everything to him. he fucking missed it— miss her.

"i thought... i thought you forgot about me," max buried his face into the crook of her neck, she too wrapped her arms around max and buried her face into his chest. his voice was so vulnerable, all she wanted to do was curl around him and tell him that she would never.

she shook her head as she sank into the hug, "i could never forget my maxie," she mumbled into his chest, he held onto her tighter. he never wanted to let go, not now, not ever. she was where she was finally supposed to be, right in his arms.

once they got time alone after his race, max had stolen her away from her friend and dragged her into his driver's room, locking the door and pushing her against the wall, slamming his lips onto hers. he had been dreaming about this for so long, his lips on hers.

he didn't want to so sexual with her, no not yet. being in the small driver's room where they couldn't be free out of the public eye wasn't a good place. he just wanted to touch her, hold her, love her, make sure that she knew how much he had missed this.

missed them being together.

her hands instinctively went up to hold onto his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he kissed her softly. the feelings going through him were a mix of nostalgia, longing and love. he loved her for so long and it was so like her to show up when it mattered the most.

he won it for her today, to show her, that the little max she knew still had it in him to win and to impress her even with a world championship under his belt.

she felt the softness and the gentleness that max was touching her with, she knew how much he loved her. how much he care, how much he longed for her touch and she did too, only so much more.

she had so many questions in her, on why he never replied to the letters she sent or why he never sent any himself, not knowing what happened with her letters and why they never arrived properly.

but she didn't care at the moment, all she cared about was that she was safely in his arms, never to be let go ever again.

safe to say, her lips were to the point of bruising that night. max had forbade her to go back home, or to be away from his sight. he had kissed her silly, not wanting to let her go and there she was, settled nicely in his arms.

it's not like she wanted to go anywhere anyway.

the movie in the background was long forgotten, max's lips felt like they were molded for hers. he had waited for her for so long, waited to feel her skin after so long and this just felt right, it felt right when he was with her.

"maxie— mmhh— my love, stop," she had to talk in between kisses, max didn't want to let her go, his fingers were basically imprinted onto her waist. she was straddling max as he sat upright and kissed her, so softly. like she would break if he was any harder, even though he absolutely did want to kiss her harder.

max released her from the kiss with a pout, his pretty lips were red and swollen from all the kissing they did. everything in the world just seemed to fade into the background when they were together, like everyone else in this world was so insignificant for their time and they were the only people worthy of each other's time.

"but why? i wanna kiss you, i miss you. i have waited for you for ten years, the least you can do is let me kiss you until you're sick of me," max mumbled against her lips and all she could do was giggle.

god, her laugh, he loved it.

she shook her head and left a final peck on his lips, "because i want to talk maxie, we can't just kiss whatever questions we have for eachother away," she told him but he seemed to think otherwise, she had moved back to put a bit of distance in between them, to make sure max didn't go in to kiss her again.

"oh yes we can, i don't care about the questions, schatje. i just wanna be with you, just like old days, but now it's so different because in those ten years without you, i finally realized what i felt and how i felt for you and i can't wait any damn longer to finally kiss those pretty lips of yours, so please. just let me do this for another three hours and we can talk," max begged as he pulled her closer.

she couldn't imagine kissing for another three hours as they spent the last hour doing it, but with him? she would do it for another life-time if she could.

the both of them later had the serious talk when they were done kissing each other, now wanting answers from eachother. their legs were tangled and intertwined with each other's, not wanting to let go from their skin to skin contact.

"first off, why did you never reply to my letters? i wrote you so many. so many that i lost count, i would always write to you but you never replied, why?" max's voice came out strained, all of the painful feelings from the last ten years of his life were coming out, her doe eyes looked up from where she was, laying against his chest.

"you wrote me letters? i wrote you letters, you never replied. i thought you got too busy with your karting career to reply—"

"i could never get too busy to reply to you, but i never got any of your letters, schatje," max murmured against her forehead, kissing it gently after he spoke. she hummed a response before it dawned on her, she had always sent the letters to his father's address and she knew that his father wasn't fond of her, even offering her a huge lump sum of cash just for her to stay away from his son but she never accepted it, always choosing to be beside max, no matter what happened.

she looked up and sighed, she knew what happened now, she connected the pieces, "did you send your letters off to your dad?" she asked, and max nodded before it dawned on him too.

"that fucker hid the letters from you and never sent mine..."

she could only nod sadly, but it didn't matter now. all that mattered was that they were reconnected now.

scattered around them were the countless of letters max had written to her and all of the letters from her that he never received, the years of pining, longing— all of them tucked neatly away into these little envelopes that held all of those unsaid feelings.

a soft sigh escapes her lips, she looked at all of them, there were hundreds maybe. all of them posted to where she stayed in korea but never sent, always kept in a big box where all of his letters were and hers were stuffed in there in a similar fashion.

her heart clenched when she saw how many there were, there were far more many than whatever she sent, even though she did send quite a big sum.

when max had found out, he stormed into jos' house and demanded to ask why he never sent out the letters that he wrote and a big fight broke out, she had to hold of max from physically harming his own father. then they left after given the big box filled with letters.

"there's so many..." she watched in awe as all of them were sorted by date, from the latest to the earliest, max looked up at her with those big blue icy eyes of his, he looked really sad. stuck in his feelings almost, not understand why his father would do whatever he did in the past.

max held her hand gently, pulling her into his embrace, "i have always loved you, even when i was a little kid. i just didn't understand what those feelings were, i just acted on how i felt and being away from you... i just couldn't. so i sent you my love in the form of these letters."

she left a lingering kiss on his cheek, she felt sorry for having to leave all those years ago. she should've fought, should've stood her ground on how much she wanted to stay but she was just a 16 year old kid who didn't know how to, "i know. i'm sorry i had to leave all those years ago."

"don't apologize, schatje. i have never blamed you for leaving me. i have always held love for you in my heart, even if you didn't know it."

"i always knew max, and i still do."

very willing to do a part 2 to this btw, will only do it when requested tho. not proofread, excuse grammar mistakes.

#leclarifies fics #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x yn #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen oneshot #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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kkayyerr · 3 days ago

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Gift

Summary: You decided to make a gift for your Daddy.

Pairing: Daddy!Rafe x little!reader.

Warnings: age regression; none.

You were sitting at the table, admiring your work. You just finished working on a little gift for Rafe that hopefully he would like. He was bad at receiving gifts, almost always rejecting them. He liked buying you gifts a lot more, though. Your room was practically filled with them. Stuffies, jewelries, books. And that’s exactly why you decided to make something for him, something that you knew he wouldn’t reject.

You hold a small handmade bracelet in your hands that was made of small black pearls. The white ones had letters on them that said the word „daddy”. You almost jumped as you heard the door behind you open.

„Baby, what are you doing?"

Rafe’s voice sounded a little worried, he has been planning to check on you for a while now. He could never leave you alone for more than 5 minutes when you were regressed, because he would get too anxious, thinking about all the scary things that might’ve happened to you. Especially he would get anxious when you would get quiet. You got up from where you were sitting, hiding the bracelet behind your back, feeling too embarrassed to show it to him.

„N…nothing!”

Rafe’s face expression turned suspicious, as he knew that you were obviously hiding something behind your back. He didn’t like the idea of you possibly having something that you shouldn’t. He approached you, giving you a stern look and you immediately knew what that meant.

„Give it to me.”

You shook your head, getting even more doubts now about giving him that gift. You couldn’t fight the thoughts of him; just throw it away because of how stupid and childish it is. You put your head down, feeling somewhat stupid about making that bracelet in the first place.

„Give it to me, before I’ll snatch it right out of your hands.”

His tone now was firm, and you knew that he'd do it if you wouldn’t give it to him willingly. You finally gave up and gave him the bracelet with a loud sigh, looking awfully embarrassed of your own gift.

However, you saw that his facial expression wasn’t what you expected it to be. It softened right away when he saw what exactly you were hiding.

„Is that…for me?”

He asked, clearly not able to believe, that he could’ve deserved that gift or any gift from you at all. You nodded, a small smile now formed on your face, feeling much less anxious now. He didn’t look angry or disappointed to you; actually, he seemed really proud.

„Do you like it?”

He slowly nodded, tracing the word „daddy” with his finger and feeling how his problems were melting away because of the fact that he had you in his life. His grateful little girl.

„Very much, baby.“

Rafe pulled you closer, giving you a kiss on the cheek. And another one. He then started kissing you all over your pretty face, making you giggle and hugging him tighter. You were so happy that he actually liked that gift that you forgot all about your previous fears and doubts.

„Topper and Kelce won’t laugh at you?”

Your question was genuine because you knew that Rafe was always worried about his reputation. He only gave you a soft smile in return, holding your gift in his hand with pride.

„Oh, they’ll be jealous! But we won’t care about that, right?”

He chuckled as you quickly nodded.

He probably was thinking about beating their asses if they would say even a word about you or his new accessory that you made for him.

„Do you want to put it on my wrist, baby?”

Rafe asked, smiling as he saw enthusiasm in your sparkling eyes. You quickly took the bracelet from his hand in yours and gently put it on his wrist, making sure that the word „daddy” was placed on top.

You wanted everyone to know that he is your daddy, and no matter what, you’ll still be his little girl.

„My daddy!”

You said, looking at his hand with a bracelet on it, you were actually very pleased with your work now. Rafe cupped your face with his hands gently, looking you right in the eyes; his own gaze now had completely softened, not even a glimpse of his usual anger. He could’ve never looked at you with the hatred in his eyes.

„Yours only.”

#obx #rafe cameron x reader #little!reader #age regression fic #rafe cameron

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theformulaimagines · 1 day ago

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Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part one

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Vettel!Reader

Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...

Warnings: age gap (reader is 27), heat!!!!, other drivers are mentioned, tiny bit of angst, english isn’t my first language

Prologue

That night…

“As much as I absolutely adore you guys.”, Y/N says as she joins the group, her lips connecting with her champagne glass:” This party is super boring.” The men all look at her, while some eyes make their way up and down her body. One more often than the others.

“Well, I don’t think it’s that-.”, poor Lando gets cut off almost immediately. “I know that this is your first party, considering how they didn’t host them during Covid, however, believe me- back in the good old days these summer parties were the main event of the year for us.”

“Don’t say it like that.”, Lewis scoffs softly, furrowing his eyebrows in distress:” ‘Good old days’, please. Don’t make it sound like we’re in our sixties now.” George giggles.

“Anyway, Lando. When my brother was an active driver, we used to steal a bunch of champagne bottles and hide out in the Ferrari garage.” Her eyes shift back to Lewis, and she stares at him for a moment:” Don’t make that face.”

“What face? I’m not making a face.”, he blinks in confusion. Y/N shakes her headc while holding her index finger up at him: “Don’t act like you weren’t the main burglar back then. Sneaking behind the bar and just handing those bottles over to me like your life depended on it.” At that, all the other drivers in the group laugh out loud. “That was the old, alcoholic me.”, Lewis explains, his eyes scanning her features- almost as if he’s searching for something he can’t quite put the finger on.

“Well, what’s stopping us from doing that again?”

“Wait what?”, Charles asks and exchanges looks with the men around him:” Are you implying we-.” “Bingo.”, she takes another sip of her drink. There’s just something about the way Lewis looks at her side profile that makes her knees weak…he has been staring a lot lately. After a few seconds, Lando is the first one to react, he nods almost violently:” Okay, well- I mean, why not? Could be fun! Lewis and Y/N, you go get the bottles, and the rest of us-? I don’t know. We just distract the others?”

Lewis nods:” Well, yeah. Sure.” He chuckles as he notices the smile emerging on his best friend’s face and the woman quickly sets her glass down on the closest table :” We’ll meet you guys at the exit in five.”

Y/N can sense his presence close behind her. She doesn’t have to turn around to check. His brown eyes are moving down her backless dress and he subconsciously wets his lips at the scenery in front of him. “What’s so funny?“, he asks, as if he knew she was silently giggling to herself.

“Oh, nothing.”, Y/N replies as they reach the bar. The y/h/ced woman quickly leans over and grabs two bottles before shoving them into his hands. Then she takes two more. “You’re still good at this, aren’t you?”, he asks, voice low. “Only when it comes to expensive things. Now, let’s hurry.”

landonorris has made a post

liked by y/nvettel, mclaren, f1 and 378,500 others

landonorris: first f1 summer party- many more to come 🥂🥂

view all comments…

user 1: 😍😍

user 2: hes so fine GOD

y/nvettel: cheers 🙂‍↕️🥂

user 3: my favorite 🤩

user 4: is it true that y/n and lewis left together

user 5: please you guys are starting to sound ridiculous they’ve been friends since forever

user 6: @/user 5 thank you!!! plus friends don’t date their friends younger siblings

user 7: @/user 6 yeah they do

mercedesamgf1: that garage sign looks familiar 👀

“I think we should head out.”, Lando lets out and yawns, pointing at the clock on the wall. 03:56 am. A soft sigh leaves Y/N's lips while she eyes how the men all get up from their spots on the floor.

“Wait, you’re all leaving?”, she asks, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I don’t think Lewis is.”, Charles says and cracks his neck. Y/N turns her head to look at her best friend who merely shakes his head.

“Well, okay. Yeah, sleep tight you guys.”

A silence falls on the garage, as the sounds of the voices and footsteps gradually fade away. “I like your outfit, by the way.”, she suddenly declares, cringing as soon as those words leave her lips. She doesn’t understand why she’s becoming so nervous around Lewis- it’s only Lewis, right?

He chuckles:” Thanks. It’s the new collection.” Y/N's gaze falls to the glass in her hands.

“You look stunning.”, he whispers, and when their eyes meet again Y/N suddenly understands why she has been feeling so strange around him recently. “This is going to sound creepy.”, she clears her dry throat:” But I’ve read your latest Vogue interview, where you said-.”

“I like black dresses.”, he cuts her off, eyes once again roaming her body:” You’re trying to impress me?” He knows the answer already. “Well, what kind of impression are you trying to make?”

The younger woman chuckles softly:” A good one.”

“Ans you’re successful. You look unbelievable.”

There’s a line. And they both know it.

Y/N takes another sip of her drink while peeking out of the garage door and into the night sky. She shouldn’t be doing this, she really shouldn’t. Instead, she should be getting up and leaving. Walk away before she does something extremely stupid.

“Can I ask you something?”, Lewis tilts his head. “Of course, yeah. Always.”, Y/N tears her gaze off the stars and looks back at one of her brother’s oldest friends. She should leave.

“What’s your end goal here?”

”I think we both know what my end goal is.”

#lewis hamilton x reader #f1 texts #web weaving #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 social media au

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mostly-marvel-musings · 2 days ago

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Old Tricks - P3

A/N: Now I can’t stop writing…

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ themes, fluff.

Find Part 1 & Part 2 here ;)

Your husband was missing. Again.

And right after promising that he wouldn’t be late for movie night.

Movie nights. Something you had designated every once in a while complete with buttery popcorn and candy and lots of fluffy pillows and blankets.

Sighing, you finished your glass of wine while his lay untouched and made your way downstairs where he was probably killing his back over some invention.

As suspected, there he was, deep in conversation with his virtual best friend, FRIDAY. You hadn’t decided whether to let this go or go up to him and remind him of what he’d missed. It didn’t hurt you because you had lived with the man long enough to understand he never did it on purpose.

Curiosity had gotten the better of you when you squinted to see what he was up to, watching your husband scroll through pictures that resembled…sex toys?

“Let’s keep the face plate easily retractable too, the wife has a thing for neck kisses and so do I.”

Tony murmured, mostly to himself but he made amendments to the project in front of him, fingers gliding over the keyboard to put his words into actuality. He had lost track of time but only because it was directed towards a little present he had been working on, for you.

Unknown to him, you were standing back within earshot, watching him work with a mixture of shock and amusement on your face.

“I mean, I know Y/N loves coming on my fingers just as much. Maybe we could tweak the suit? Add additional modes on the vibrators too.”

Sure, boss.

Blush crept up your cheeks as his words fell on your ears, it was as if he was discussing any other modification to be done to his Iron Man suits. You tiptoed inside, not wanting to announce your presence just yet as Tony Stark - the successor of Stark Industries, genius inventor, world-renown superhero and philanthropist continued his back and forth with the AI.

You watched as prototypes holograms of his suit showed up, the alterations he spoke about highlighted along with detailed description of its features. The man ran his fingers through his hair, leaving them a glorious mess before walked around the table as if to get a whole 360 view.

Clearing your throat finally, you stifled a laugh as your husband jumped with a hand over his heart.

“Jesus Christ! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Chuckling, you wrapped your arms around the man and reached up to give him a soft kiss. He sighed and hugged you, rubbing your back gently.

“You know among the things I presumed you do down here, I never imagined I’d catch you doing this. I also didn’t realise we had branched out to Adults Toys R Us.” You giggled when Tony playfully slapped your butt, joining in your laughter.

“It was supposed to be a surprise and a silly little gift. For the countless dates I’ve missed, I’m sorry.” He stared at his feet, scratching the back of his neck almost nervously.

“So you’re making me an apology sex toy? You continue to amaze me, Mr. Stark.” You murmured, making him look up at you again before pressing your lips to his lightly.

The man truly was unbelievable.

“What did I miss?” He asked earnestly, guilt evidently reflecting in his brown eyes.

“Our movie night. But it’s okay, I won’t hold it against you. Especially not if promise to reveal what all of this is about.”

Chuckling lowly, Tony planted his head on your shoulder, letting out a tired sigh and a purr the moment your fingers ran through his hair, comforting him.

“Am I going to get a demo or what?” You turned towards his work station while still keeping your arms around him.

“Nope. It’s still a work in progress.” Tony shrugged, swiftly shutting down his work.

“Oh come on, Tony! At least tell me something about it, what does it look like, how do I use it—”

“Oh no, you’re not going to use it. I am.”

You frowned, coaxing him to continue, now that he’d really got your interest piqued. It wasn’t surprising that he would design something like this without involving an element of ‘him’ in it.

“You’re giving me a present that’s meant to be used by you? Hmm, I’m not so sure if I want it now..” you teased, welcoming Tony as he slotted himself between your legs, caging you in by placing both his arms on either side.

“Oh you want it, alright. I’ve made sure it’s everything you’d wished for and more.”

“Hmm.. I would like some more details before I decide how I feel about this present.” Your arms naturally found their way behind his neck, excitement already building deep within as your little banter continued.

“Well?”

“Let’s just say all of your suit kink prayers have been answered, Mrs. Stark.”

No smut just yet 🤭

#tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fluff #tony stark imagine #tony stark drabble #tony stark x you #tony stark smut #the stark squad #mostly marvel musings #marvel fanfiction #tony stark

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suroweczka · 3 days ago

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Love Potion (reader x Zoro)

Summary: You and Zoro share a quiet night out drinking, both secretly harbouring feelings for each other. That’s until you order a cocktail with a striking name, claiming to make people speak up about their feelings…

female reader in mind

I think it’s a fluff or something (??) Nothing not really explicit anyway. Might write a smut continuation in 50 years though because why not 😌💅🏻✨

🍸🍹It was supposed to be just a night out as friends.

Everyone on the ship could see there was something more between you, but neither of you would admit that. Especially not Zoro — he could barely handle his feelings, let alone actually speak them out loud.

You picked up the menu, flipping through it casually until a certain drink caught your eye: Love Potion. The description boasted about making people spill their true feelings, claiming the cocktail had some "special" effect.

You snorted and nudged Zoro with your elbow. “Look at this,” you laughed. “A drink that makes you confess your feelings.”

Zoro’s expression twisted in amusement. “What a load of crap” he chuckled. “Any alcohol does that… If you’re a loser who doesn’t know how to drink. Which is clearly not me” He folded his arms, with a cocky smile on his face. “Oh, that’s indeed an achievement” you giggled.

“I’m tough. I don’t need to get wasted to talk about how I feel.”

You smiled at him. “They do look nice though, I think I will give it a go, would you like one too?”

“I don’t mind as long as it’s alcohol” he shrugged, leaning back with that confident, careless ease of his. That was classic Zoro; he would drink anything if it had a good kick. So, you ordered the so-called Love Potion, more as a joke than anything else.

When the drinks arrived, you took a cautious sip, but Zoro, in typical fashion, downed his in one go.

“You didn’t mention it would be sweet” Zoro gave you a grimace of disgust.

“It’s called a Love Potion, what did you expect?” You laughed, shaking your head.

As you were slowly sipping on your drink, you felt a subtle warmth start to spread through you, though Zoro’s reaction was even more surprising.

“Hey, (Y/N)…” He reached over, a strange glint in his eye as he locked onto you. “Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?”

You blinked, taken aback. “What? No, you haven’t…”

“I mean it,” he continued, his voice was clear. “When I first met you, it was your strength. You never backed down. Always threw yourself into the fight with no fear. Then I… started to notice other things.”

He leaned closer, his eyes wandering over your face and then down your body. “Like how hot you are” he murmured, his voice rough, almost reverent.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Where’s that coming from?”

“Just saying the truth, that’s all” he replied with a smirk.

But he wasn’t done. His hands, usually so steady with his swords, rested on your shoulders, and he was suddenly right there, his lips grazing your neck in a way that made your whole body shiver. His breath was warm, his mouth soft yet unrelenting, as he kissed down the side of your neck.

"Strong and pretty, what’s more to wish for?" he whispered to your ear, giving you chills. His hand brushing along your arm in a way that sent sparks through you. "Your courage… it’s one of the first things I noticed. But it’s more than that now" His voice grew husky. “I’d never been interested in any woman that way before.”

Your heart pounded, and the warmth from the drink seemed to blend with the heat of his words. Emboldened, you took a longer sip from your own glass, feeling that strange drink work its way through you until it gave you the courage to admit something you'd kept hidden for so long.

“When you took Luffy’s pain,” you began softly, “when you stood there after fighting Kuma without saying a word. I realised how far you’d go for Luffy, for all of us. I was in awe of your loyalty, strength… I was in awe of you, Zoro. I wanted to be someone who could stand by your side… and, I think I fell for you then.” Your words hung in the air, your face flushing with a mixture of nerves and adrenaline.

As you finished your drink, you reached out, pressing a hand to his chest. “And, I mean… have you looked at yourself?” you whispered, your voice carrying a flirtatious edge as you let your fingers slide along his defined muscles. “How could I not be into you?”

And without another word, he took your hand, pulling you toward the exit.

You never thought a drink could change everything—but in that moment, as you both tumbled onto his bed, you knew you wouldn’t be turning back.

And neither would he.

#roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #one piece fanfiction #fluff

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parisiterileymoon · 2 days ago

Note

I have a request for you, and if the reader secretly, while Alastor slept, put beautiful bows on Alastor's ears and tail... ((the reader only had one mission, an almost impossible mission, a life mission... Make Alastor Cute))

Bonus Will the other hotel guests see Alastor and tell him about the cute bows?

Alastor x reader

Making Al coquette 🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

You have one mission: beautiful alastor. You might worry about waking him up but through a series of bells and a piglet hopped up on jelly doughnuts, you’ve deduced that he is a heavy sleeper. You approach the door with a towel and three ribbons on hand. You slide the towel on the little indent in the doorway so the door dosnt latch when you close it behind you. you tiptoe closer to his bed and asses his sleeping position. Luckily for you, he’s a side sleeper. You slowly approach his head and dangle the ribbon near him to test the waters. He does not react, obviously. You lightly brush his ear and it twitches. You slowly wrap the ribbon around his ear and tie it into a bow. You proceed to reach over his face and push down the pillow to wrap the ribbon around his ear. He stirs. Shit. You step back, the ribbon laid on the pillow. He turns over, now facing you. You tie the ribbon around his ear. Now comes the difficult part: his tail. You peel back the covers comically slow and walk to the other side of the bed. You then kneel on his bed, silently praying the sudden dip doesn’t wake him up. You brush his tail with the back of your hand to test the waters. His tail swishes. It’s quite soft, actually. Very soft. Maybe you could just…NOPE! Go in, tie the bows, and get out. You tie the bow and he twitches a little. You immediately bolt.

The next morning.

You can’t help but bite your knuckles to stifle your laugh as he walks put. “nice ribbons, Bambi!” Angel days, giggling as he walks to the bar to mildly sexually harass husker. Charlie’s face turns pink as she also tries not to laugh. Husker and angel snicker amongst themselves. Nugs follows him around, staring up at the ribbons. Vaggie openly and unapologetically laughs at him.

Had to hunt down the right words for this. I hope you liked it! Constructive criticism is encouraged:)

#autism #actually autistic #autistic things #hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor

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foreverisntenough · 2 hours ago

Text

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Chapter 8 - Caught in The Kitchen, Hidden in The Bathroom | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

You and Trent were cuddled up on the couch, a blanket draped over both of you as the late afternoon sun streamed through the living room windows. The air was warm, filled with the soft murmurs of a documentary neither of you were paying much attention to. Instead, the two of you were locked in a lazy conversation, your head resting against his chest while his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. You leaned into Trent’s chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him and enjoying the comfort of his steady heartbeat. Trent chuckled, recalling a memory that had resurfaced the other week. Recently you and him went to the park you’d gone to a lot growing up. A park where Jack and all his friends would play footie in and you’d tag along for a glimpse of your teenage crush. But this other week in that very park, your crush, Trent, had given you a daisy and confessed something that had long lingered on your mind. Did he even notice you back then? He was about to tell you.

“Baby, you know how we went to the park the other day?” He asked and you hummed confirming. You tilted your head up to look at him, your curiosity winning over the quiet comfort of the moment. “It’s just I was thinking – it’s funny because…” he began to speak, stumbling through words, his voice soft and nostalgic, “I honestly had the biggest crush on you, even then, when we were younger. I wish I was braver to have done something but instead… you know, I just used to try so hard during those pickup games with Jack and all the lads if I knew you were there watching.” He smiled, almost beginning to laugh at himself. You tilted your head up to look at him, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“Are you implying that you have a crush on me now?” You cheekily asked and he rolled his eyes. “Baby…” You pouted patronizingly at him with a tease. “But also, no. No, you didn’t,” you teased a little more, a smile spreading across your face. “You simply wanted to win those games. You’re the most competitive person I’ve ever met. I was not your concern!” He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest.

“Fairs, that’s true that I wanted to win,” he admitted, Trent grinned, his dimples deepening as he recalled the memory, “but I swear… I mean I could even make pinpoint accurate passes then but I was purposefully mishitting the ball just so it’d end up rolling near where you were sitting. You were definitely a concern every time you showed.” He told you. “I mean, you know me always want to show off a little, especially for you.” He chuckled, but his eyes softened as he looked at you. You giggled a little smitten hearing his admission, covering your mouth with your hand at the revelation.

“You’re not serious…” you asked, smiling at the idea of him planning such an elaborate yet subtle way to get your attention - risking his performance in front of others just to get to you? You couldn’t believe it. He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” he replied. “I’d watch out of the corner of my eye, praying you’d look up or notice me. Even if you just rolled your eyes at us, it was worth it.” You couldn’t stop smiling, the memory taking you back to those carefree days.

“That’s so dumb,” you said, but your voice was warm and full of affection. “For a few reasons, first off you knew I was watching just for you, Jack was shit at footie so I wasn’t exactly coming to watch him.” You both laughed. And he pulled you in a little tighter listening intently for hopefully a less humorous secondary reason. “But also because I was just trying to get you to notice me. I’m impressed with myself that you thought I was just hanging out. I used to try to act all nonchalant, you know? Like I was beyond uninterested. I would say I didn’t want to go tag along with Jack to my dad again and again but an hour later – I was dressed….” You went to keep speaking but Trent cut you off.

“And you always looked beautiful by the way.” He told you. Butterflies filled your stomach for your current and younger self knowing the extra effort you put in to go to the park had Trent noticing. It wasn’t anything elaborate but your slicked back bun was done well, you’d have your jewelry on, a nice matching sweat set. Simple but evidently… very effective…eventually.

“You’re sweet. But it was a facade. I’d just sit on a bench purposefully making sure I was in view or if it was warmer, I’d be picking at the grass, always ‘annoyed’ and waiting for Jack to be done, but in my head… I was praying you’d come over and say something, anything really.” You giggled, almost embarrassed you were admitting you’d been trying so hard. Trent’s eyebrows shot up, a look of disbelief and amusement crossing his face.

“Nah,” he said, his hand moving to cradle the side of your face. “You were hoping for me to come over? Babbyy…” He drew out the word with a frown, not dramatically, not teasingly like yours before but just with a bit of a pout. You nodded sheepishly, your cheeks flushing with the shared embarrassment and sweetness of young, unspoken crushes.

“Yeah, well…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Every single time. I’d always come for you. To watch you playing– I think I must’ve met some of the other boys ten times over before I even knew their names. All I wanted… I was just hoping you’d notice me.” You told him. Your words flaring with a smile and then fading out into almost a pang of sadness. Trent felt the switch. He shook his head, but kept a smile full of wonder and nostalgia on his lips.

“I noticed.” He reassured you, kissing your temple. “I noticed you probably the first time you showed. I had to play it cool though. It was long.” He laughed. “Kind of mad, we went from that to this, no?” he murmured letting you know he understood how crazy this relationship was and how long it had been building for. You looked into his eyes, the space between you shrinking as your faces drew closer.

“I guess it couldn’t stay under the surface forever. Was bound to bubble over,” you said, a laugh escaping your lips. Trent leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours, the kiss sweet and unhurried, as if savoring the lost moments from your past.

“And bubble over it did. No matter how long it took… I’m glad I’ve got you now.” He pulled back just enough to whisper. His thumb traced your cheek as he looked at you, his gaze full of warmth and contentment. You nodded, resting your forehead against his. The whole room slipped into a euphoric still. But then you thought back to those long days at the park, where you’d sit off to the side, pretending not to care but secretly hoping for any attention. Your dad said it’d be good for you to be with Jack and his friends. Layla would even sometimes join you, but mostly because it was just so hard to sit at home at your old house that was filled with so many memories and so you went. You went as an escape and a part of that very escape was your developing feelings for Trent. You felt the lump in your throat form but you swallowed it down. You didn’t want to bring in all of those emotions and so instead you opted for another sweet joke.

“You know, whenever a ball came over… I just thought that was shit aim,” you teased, nudging him lightly. He feigned a hurt expression.

“Aye, aye, aye, relax. My accuracy has always been top tier. Was doing it on purpose.” His voice softened, but it flared with cheek and competitiveness just the way you liked it. “I just wanted any excuse to get near you.” He cooed. You giggled, a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

“I used to trot over to grab it but you used to look so uninterested in me, like you were too cool to care about any of it, about me,” he said, shaking his head recalling how rattled he felt but how determined he became. You smiled feeling like that wasn’t the case. You tried to play nonchalant but you were screaming inside. “I thought you were impossible to impress.” Trent laughed, his eyes lighting up at the image. “But then I started smiling at you, I’d shoot you a wink and then maybe just maybe sometimes I think I caught you watching just for me.” He smirked. You bit your lip, feeling a tinge of embarrassment that he noticed but also amusement.

“What was I meant to do!” You yelped. “I wanted you to think I was cool,” you admitted, “ but then I crumbled…. as you well know. You were always so loud and confident, it was hard to not look. Even back then, you knew you were good.” He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyebrows raised.

“I tried to impress you. But to be fair, I knew I could,” he said smugly, the playful arrogance in his voice making you laugh. “But I think you’re underselling how good I really was. It was pick-up footie with schoolmates then I’d bounce off to the academy. You were watching because you knew I was the best one there.” He joked but also semi serious wanting to hear your confirmation he was the best. You rolled your eyes. You remembered once gushing to Layla about how good Trent was, that it was hot to see someone so talented at something. She teased you about having an easy way to become a wag. But that wasn’t it. He could’ve just been Jack's friend. The bouncing off to the academy after was the thing you cared about the least.

“Yeah, exactly that.” You sarcastically snapped back. “More like, I was just waiting for you to make a fool of yourself,” you joked, your grin widening. “Skying the ball over the bar because you had to take every free kick.” You teased and Trent’s eyes widened but you could feel him loving the banter. Loving it secretly even more than a compliment. “Honestly, I think I’d have been a better player than you if I had joined the games.” You told him with faux seriousness. Trent’s jaw dropped in mock offense.

“Excuse me? You think you could strike a better dead ball than me? ’Got a better right foot than me?” he asked, his voice incredulous but his eyes gleaming with excitement. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease him further, leaning in closer with a smug smile.

“Absolutely. I’d have shown you up, easy. Just didn’t want to embarrass you.” You quipped. He pulled away from you immediately, his face contorting into an exaggerated expression of shock that soon melted into a cheeky grin.

“Yeah? That so?” he questioned, his tone full of playful challenge. “Alright then, if you’re so confident, you’re gonna have to prove it.” Before you could respond, he suddenly stood up from the sofa and, in one swift motion, scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder. You let out a surprised squeal, half-laughing and half-protesting as he carried you toward the glass doors that led to the back garden.

“Where are we going?!” you shrieked, still laughing as he ignored your protests.

“To the back garden,” he declared, a competitive glint in his eye. “If you’re so good, you’ve got to show me right now.” You couldn’t stop laughing, your heart racing with the thrill of his sudden challenge.

“T! You’re being ridiculous!” you managed to say through your giggles, but deep down, you loved every second of it. Trent carried you effortlessly through the house, your squeals and laughter filling the living room as he made his way toward the glass doors that led to the back garden. You squirmed in his hold, trying to wriggle free, but he only tightened his grip around your waist, his laughter rumbling through his chest. “Trent!” you cried out, half laughing, half gasping. “Put me down! I’m not even dressed to go outside!” He grinned at your complaint, completely unbothered, and slid open the glass doors with one hand. The crisp air of early evening swept in, the sky had begun to turn shades of navy streaked with orange. He stepped out onto the grass, finally setting you down but keeping a firm grip on your shoulders to stop you from escaping.

“You think you’ve got a better right foot than me, yeah?” he challenged, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well… go on then. Show me what you’ve got.” He mocked you as you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to feign an air of confidence even though you knew this was ridiculous.

“I can’t play like this!” you protested, gesturing to your outfit—cozy lounge shorts and an oversized jumper of his but most of all slippers… hardly proper attire for any football.Trent raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a grin.

“Excuses already?” he teased. “And here I was, thinking you’d at least try to back up all that talk.” You stuck out your tongue at him, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Fine,” you conceded. “But don’t cry when you realize I’m actually better than you.” You were talking a good game but even with your decent athleticism aside… you were mildly nervous but you continued to joke about. “You’re not cute when you lose.” You teased him recalling all the times he’d simply lost a board game and how he’d pout. Annoyingly, it was actually cute but you’d tell him otherwise for the sake of banter and the moment. He laughed, and the sound was warm and bright in the fading sunlight.

“I’m not a sore loser!” He yelped and you raised your brow silently telling him to be realistic. He was a bad loser. “Nah, alright, if you embarrass me, I’ll retire from football right now,” he joked, stepping back to give you space. “But I won’t hold back.” You rolled your eyes, feeling the playful competitiveness radiate between the two of you. He jogged off to a shed tucked in the corner of the garden where he had a ball stored, The game about to start as a lighthearted test of skill, with both of you brimming with playful energy. Trent, competitive as ever, had made sure to set the stakes high, a teasing grin stretched across his face as he dropped the ball onto the grass and rolled it toward you. The moment the ball reached your feet your heart slowed. You weren’t sure how serious either of you were being. This was a joke, right? What if he thought you were shit? What if he thought you were trying too hard? Nevertheless, with an exaggerated flick of your hair, you picked your head toward him.

“Ready to lose?” you taunted. He feigned a look of horror but then smiled.

“Never, baby,” he said, already moving into a more defensive position. “I rarely do.” He reminded him. You squared your shoulders, and with a grin, you nudged the ball forward with your foot, feeling your heart race. You took a step forward with it. Trent was all playful resistance, putting on his most intimidating game face while still clearly holding back. You juked left dramatically as a joke as if you were actually going to try to go past him and both of you bursting out into giggles. But still you took one more little jab at the ball just to edge it past him amidst the laughter—though, admittedly, it was more because he was enjoying the moment than you actually outplaying him. He turned round and dragged the ball back with his feet. He was going to be offensive now. Trent tapped the ball lightly, his feet dancing around it with a series of quick step-overs and fancy tricks, every movement of his ridiculously smooth. At first you were momentarily mesmerized, seeing it all so close up for the first time. You were experiencing a, yes, exaggerated, humorous, and overzealous, performance of his, but still, close to what it was like to face someone like him on a pitch. You stuck your leg out attempting to poke the ball away or pull it back to you, trying to swipe the ball away from him. He sidestepped easily, a laugh bursting from his lips, not mockingly just teasingly, as he kept the ball just out of reach; enjoying this way too much.

“Okay, okay, you can stop showing off!” you complained, trying to keep up, but he only chuckled, now purposefully dribbling circles around you. You stopped trying minutes ago. You, frankly, never really gave any of this silly game much effort.

“I thought you said you were better, no?” he teased, his voice full of mischief. His eyes glinted with pure joy, and you couldn’t help but smile even through your feigned frustration. Trent loved being good at things and this… winning a challenge, playing football… he was good at. The cool air was biting at your skin, but the warmth of the moment made it hard to feel anything but happiness. “Come on, you’re not even trying!” he taunted, shifting the ball back and forth with smooth footwork. He wanted you to actually try but you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him. Feigning annoyance you groaned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Fine. If that’s how you want to play it…” You pretended like you were about to actually give it a go but you decided on a different tactic. With a devious smile, you waited until Trent had planted the ball under his foot, taking a moment to catch his breath while still managing to look smug. Then, without warning, you launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his waist from behind and dragging your whole weight against him. Trent stumbled slightly, his laughter ringing out into the garden.

“Oi! Ref!” he shouted, his voice full of playful outrage. “That’s a foul! A yellow card for sure! Get her off the pitch!” You laughed, clinging to him tighter. He twisted around in your embrace, trying to keep the ball pinned under his foot, but he was losing the fight. His laughter made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but grin as you pressed your cheek against his back, feeling the warmth radiate from him. Trent’s laughter began to subside, and he tried to turn his head to look at you, his eyes dancing with delight. “You’re a snake! You think you’re sneaky, huh?” he teased. “Trying to take me out by cheating?” You giggled, unrepentant, as you slid your hands from his waist up to drape them around his neck.

“What? Me? Never.” Leaning up, you began to plant soft, ticklish kisses along his jawline, moving up to his ear and whispering, “You know, if you’d just given me the ball, I wouldn’t have had to resort to these tactics.” Trent stumbled a bit more, his knees almost buckling as he tried to resist the effect you had on him. His hands moved to hold your arms, and you took the opportunity to pepper even more kisses along his neck. Finally, he twisted fully around, his smile bright and wide, but before he could say anything more, you leaned up and kissed him properly. His eyes widened for a second, but he melted into it, the laughter leaving his body as the energy shifted between you. The kiss started sweet, the two of you still grinning against each other’s lips, but then Trent’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, and you could feel his breath hitch as he gave in.

“That… that was definitely a red card.” He pulled back just a fraction, his lips barely brushing yours as he whispered. His voice had dropped, becoming huskier, and you shivered at the way he looked at you. The playful atmosphere morphed into something more electric, more intense, and you couldn’t help but feel the heat rising between you. You met his gaze, your heart pounding.

“Oh? A red card, really?” you murmured. He nodded slowly, his eyes darkening as his hands moved from your back to cup your face.

“Yeah. But we can play on. I’m not sure I mind your tactics,” he whispered. His fingers traced your jawline, and the way he looked at you made your knees weak. The playfulness had melted away, leaving only a shared desire, and you knew the game was long forgotten. A smile tugged at your lips, but you leaned in, capturing his mouth with yours again. The air was still cool, the night sky overhead, but all you could feel was Trent, his warmth, and the way he made the world fade away. You both stood there, catching your breath and grinning at each other, the garden bathed in the last light of the day. It felt like one of those perfect moments you’d remember forever—just the two of you, tangled in laughter and love.

One night, it was a friend of a friends birthday party you all had been invited to; Jack, all his mates, Trent, Layla, it was a massive event. Your house buzzed with the energy of pre-party excitement. Music played from every direction on surround sound speakers. A few of Jack’s mates had already shown up, their laughter echoing faintly from the living room. You had invited Layla over to get ready with you, knowing you both wanted to look your best for the party. The evening was promising to be memorable, with everyone gathering together for the night out. Although a part of you was really anxious, you worried about your feelings, alcohol, and Trent mixing in the same room but you pushed it down. You giggled upstairs with Layla trying on outfits in your wardrobe, but had taken extra precaution ahead of time to hide any remnants of Trent; a jumper, some boxers, condoms, an array of items that frankly wouldn't be damning evidence but you were nervous. In the middle of getting dressed, you realized you desperately needed water—both you and Layla did. You’d promised her a drink to aid in staving off the inevitable hangover you’d both likely have tomorrow, so you ran downstairs in your relaxed outfit: oversized sweats and a tiny tank top. Despite your hair and makeup being perfectly done, you felt comfortable and at ease at home as you snuck down quickly but all it padded with a sense of nerves. As you made your way into the kitchen, you noticed Trent. He’d already arrived to pregame, his presence instantly shifting the air in the room. He looked incredible, wearing just a white t-shirt that highlighted his tan skin, his hair freshly trimmed, and a gold chain peeking out from beneath the neckline. The look on his face that lit up when he saw you was sweet, and genuine. A moment to be alone together again suddenly appeared but you'd do your best to ignore it. Not here. Not now.

“Hey pretty girl,” he greeted, his voice low and teasing but quiet. The nickname wasn’t something other people hadn’t heard. He’d called you it for ages but what you hadn’t done for ages was what you were doing lately. Something was very different. You were sleeping together to say the least. You rolled your eyes at him pretending not to care as you normally would, walking around the kitchen island to get your drinks. You’d say something eventually but you had to play it cool. Jack and all their friends were in the other room, Layla upstairs. You filled a cup of water, moving to fill a second. But before you could do that, before you could say anything to him, he closed the distance between you, reaching out to tug on the waistband of your sweatpants and pulling you backward into him. You yelped, almost spilling the water you had just gotten.

“Babyyy,” you whined instinctually, playfully, glaring at him with mock exasperation, but your pout couldn’t hold as Trent wrapped his arms around your waist. It was too natural now. It was as if any fear dissipated when he stepped within a foot of you. Trent knew everyone was occupied in the other room with a game, he knew Layla was upstairs so he couldn’t resist stealing this moment. He wanted you to be back in his arms. He held you tight, his touch warm and familiar, his grip grounding you in a way that made your heart race. He chuckled, pressing his chin against your shoulder.

“Shhhh.” He hushed you calling him the pet name aloud although with a smile because he didn’t actually mind hearing it. “Can’t be doing that... but I just couldn’t resist you though,” he murmured, his voice full of affection. He thought you were alone, that this was a stolen moment between just the two of you. And so did you. You leaned back into him, pouting dramatically.

“You made me spill my water,” you said, your voice half a giggle, half a protest. Trent smirked, clearly amused but unfazed. He leaned in closer, his face hovering near yours, his intentions obvious. His gaze held that gentle intensity that always made you melt, and you prepared to let him steal a kiss—

“OH MY GOD!” Layla’s scream cut through the air, making you both jump apart. Your eyes widened in shock, and you turned to see her standing at the base of the stairs, eyes as wide as saucers, her mouth hanging open. “I fucking knew it!” she yelled, her voice rising in pitch with excitement. “I fucking knew there was something bigger going on between you two! Oh my fucking god, how long has this been happening?!” She yelled running into the kitchen. You stumbled out of Trent’s embrace, your face burning.

“Lay… oh fuck. It’s not… it’s just…” you tried to form a coherent sentence, stepping toward her in a flustered panic. “Just shhh.” You now hushed her. Trent scratched the back of his neck, clearly equally rattled but there was a fullness to his cheeks.

“Lays, we’re just…” he began, trying to calm her down. But she wasn’t having it. She looked between the two of you, her eyes lighting up with even more surprise and delight.

“This is serious! You two are so… so lovey-dovey! Oh my days. So it wasn’t a one time thing? Jack’s going to die when he finds out!” She babbled on too overtaken by her surprise to have any sort of decorum or consciousness, mindfulness regarding the delicacy of this all. You ran over to her, covering her mouth with your hand, your own heart pounding with anxiety.

“Please, Layla,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t say anything yet. I promise I’ll tell you everything. Just… not now. You can’t tell anyone. Please.” You whispered harshly pleading just to her. You looked at her seriously. A look she knew well. It confirmed you and Trent were more than nothing. Trent came closer to you both, still looking uncomfortable but trying to add to the appeal.

“Yeah, we’re… just figuring things out,” he said cautiously, trying to convey the delicateness of your situation. “Just let it stay hush for now, yeah?” He told her. Layla pulled your hand off her mouth, her eyes wide and questioning.

“Figuring things out?” she echoed, confused by the vagueness turning towards you for clarity but you didn’t have any. She could sense that. Her gaze softened, and she nodded slowly, realizing the tension between the two of you. Both you and Trent felt a twinge of awkwardness at what you had both said. Even though it was honest, Trent belittled you and his relationship down to figuring things out. Where Trent thought you may have been wanting to hide things entirely, forever. It was all so confusing. You wondered if he was downplaying your relationship, and he worried that maybe you were keeping things too ambiguous. It stung a bit, this uncertainty of what you both really meant to each other. But for now, officially… someone else knew. Someone knew that you and Trent were no longer just friends. Layla had seen the reality of what you and Trent were, how real and raw this thing between you was. The secret was out, and the weight of it felt equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

You left the room with a nod of certainty from Trent. You had no option other than to drag Layla upstairs immediately swearing her to secrecy. You couldn’t risk Jack overhearing this conversation downstairs any longer. You hated you hadn’t told her more since the first hook up but how could you? Trent shot Layla a wink and her jaw dropped as you pulled her to the staircase. As soon as the door to your bedroom shut, you and Layla burst into almost panicked laughter, the nerves of her catching you with Trent bubbling over. Her giggles were of disbelief, yours in fear. Layla immediately threw her arms around you, still bouncing with shock and delight.

“What the fuck! What the fuck! Why did you hide this from me!!?!” she squealed, her voice just barely above a whisper but it was strained as if the walls themselves might betray the secret.

“I’m so so so sorry... Seriously, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you admitted, guilt mixed with an overwhelming need to finally let someone in on everything. You couldn’t hold back the truth anymore, not with Layla’s eyes wide and eager. She tugged you over to the bed, her curiosity palpable.

“Alright, secret's out. Spill it,” she demanded, crossing her legs and folding her arms, ready to listen. You took a deep breath, searching for the words to explain the whirlwind of the last few months.

“It’s been…” You couldn’t bite back the smile that Trent brought to your face.

“Oh my god!!!! So you’ve been properly hanging out, not just fucking?” Layla jumped the gun, completely shocked by the look the relationship brought to your face.

“Layla….” You steadied her. You’d tell her everything, if she’d just be patient enough to listen. She waved an apology telling you to go on. “It’s been so good. Honestly, I never expected it to actually happen, but he’s just…” Your voice softened, the warmth flooding your cheeks as you thought of him. “He’s been so sweet, Lays. Like, really sweet. Thoughtful, kind, funny. He has this way of making me feel like I’m the only one in the room, even when we’re hiding from the world.” You started to let the stories spill out, one by one: the little glances he’d give you across crowded rooms, how he’d brush his hand along yours in passing, those quiet moments spent tangled up in each other’s arms as morning light painted shadows on the sheets. “We’d just lay there, not needing to say anything,” you murmured. “He’s so different when it’s just the two of us. There’s this softness to him, this… I don’t know, it feels so real. But—” You stopped, that familiar ache settling in your chest. Layla’s brows furrowed slightly.

“But?” she prompted gently. She was biting back a million questions, comments, and concerns. She was trying just to listen, no opinions just yet.

“It’s like… every time we’re together, I feel like we’re on the verge of something real. But the second he leaves, I’m left wondering if I even exist in his life outside of those moments.” You let out a sigh, frustration mixing with the warmth of your memories. “It’s just—everything’s hidden. We’re hidden. And I’m terrified that I’m just some secret he’s keeping, like… like one of his other ‘girl of the season’ situations.” You explained sheepishly. You hated that this insecurity came with all the joy. You were almost embarrassed to let Layla into how complacent you’d been to it all.

“So, you’re afraid that he sees you like he’s seen other girls in the past? Just… temporary?” Layla looked at you thoughtfully. You nodded, looking down, feeling the weight of the confession.

“He says it’s different, and when I’m with him, I believe it. I want to believe it. But I can’t shake this feeling that I’m living this double life, like I’m only part of his world when it’s convenient. It’s one thing to keep it from Jack, but keeping it from you, from everyone else—it just makes me feel like… maybe he’s not serious about this. About us.” You muttered. Layla reached over, squeezing your hand, her face softening with understanding.

“I mean to be fair… I don’t think girl’s of the season have been given cars no strings attached.” She smirked teasingly knowing this relationship had been long brewing. “But that’s kind of the point… you could never be them. This situation is so sensitive. But, you know… it sounds like it’s real to you. I think what’s hard is that you are not just a secret in his world, you’re a big one. He winked at me when we left, like a confirmation I’d keep a tight lip. And I get that it’s complicated, but you deserve someone who isn’t afraid to let everyone know how he feels about you. Publicly… Openly.!” She told you the opinion you were waiting to hear. The one you knew had kept you from telling her to begin with. One you had a hard time stomaching because you knew it was correct. You bit your lip, her words hitting you harder than you expected.

“That’s the thing… when I’m with him, I don’t doubt it. I know he cares. But the minute he’s gone, it’s like I’m pulled back into reality, and I realize that in addition to his footballer lifestyle… layer on the fact that I’m still just—Jack’s little sister. And the thought that I might never be more than that to him—it terrifies me.” You earnestly admitted. Layla wrapped an arm around your shoulder, her expression soft but determined.

“Look, you deserve to be someone’s first choice, not a hidden chapter in their life. I know it’s scary,it probably is for him equally but maybe it’s time to be honest with him about what you need. All these little moments—they’re beautiful, yeah. But you deserve more than just stolen hours and hidden smiles. You deserve a real relationship. At the very least, I deserve a relationship you can at least tell me about.” She teased with a smile but it was tense. Her words lingered, settling somewhere deep within you. It was the honesty you’d been too afraid to face, the thing you’d been pushing aside every time you let yourself get lost in Trent’s arms. And as you sat there, talking it through with Layla, you felt the weight of your choices, your emotions sharpened into something you could finally name. You had a choice to make—keep clinging to the comfort of those stolen moments or take the leap and tell Trent that you wanted, needed, something real. “And… you can’t change the fact you are Jack’s sister.” She sheepishly reminded you hesitantly almost as if she could feel the knife twist inside of you from it. You and Layla sat quietly, the weight of her question heavy in the air between you. She looked at you expectantly, and when she asked when you’d tell Jack, the answer flew out of your mouth without hesitation.

“I can’t,” you said, the words sounding almost defensive, but as they hung there, something shifted inside you, a realization settling in your gut like a stone. Layla noticed it, too. Her face softened as you fell silent, the gravity of it finally hitting you both.

“If not now… when?” she asked gently. Her words were careful, but the question was razor-sharp, and you felt it cut right to the heart of everything you’d been holding back. You thought about it, really thought about it, for the first time. When would there ever be a right time? Layla seemed to read every doubt as it flickered across your face. She sighed, trying to keep the worry out of her voice but not quite succeeding. Your relationship with Trent unraveling before your eyes. It took all of two questions for the foundation to shake. “Babe,” she started, reaching for your hand, “If you really want him and he makes you happy… that’s all any of us want for you. Jack just wants you happy. It might take him a while, but he’d get over it.” She paused, giving you a small, uncertain smile. “But… I won’t lie, it might be a bit of a mess. Especially now that it’s been hidden so long.” She slyly reprimanded you for not even filling your best friend on this whole situation. She was right. Was she right? You nodded anyway, undecided but unable to look at her directly. You hadn’t just hidden this from Jack—you’d hidden it from her, from everyone. And the longer it had gone on, the more it had felt like the walls were closing in. You looked at her, the weight of the truth crashing over you like a wave, pulling you under.

“How did I let it get this far? How did I let it become… this?” The guilt twisted in your chest, and you almost couldn’t bear to see the hurt in Layla’s eyes. “How could I lie to you, to Jack, and for what? To be a secret hidden away in his mansion?” She squeezed your hand, trying to find the right words. What once felt exciting felt anything but.

“Hey, listen,” she said softly, “I know it’s more than that. It must be to him as well. He’s risking a lot. You wouldn’t have gotten this far if it wasn’t real, if there wasn’t something worth all this.” She gave a small, sad smile. “But… I get it. This isn’t you. Keeping secrets, hiding things—it’s not who you are. Never has been.” And as she said it, you felt it. The ache of it, how far you’d drifted from who you wanted to be. You’d always trusted Layla, trusted Jack, and now here you were, caught between fear and love, between loyalty and your own heart.

“I didn’t technically lie,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “I just… omitted the truth.” You sheepishly told her, reminding yourself that you also trusted Trent and your heart and that’s why you ended up here. Layla nodded, her face thoughtful but filled with understanding.

“But does it feel worth it?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. You were silent, unable to answer. Because the truth was you didn’t know if it was worth it—worth the risk, worth the lies, worth the tension pulling at you from every angle. And as you looked back at Layla, her eyes full of hope and worry, you wondered if you’d have the courage to find out.

Maybe you didn’t know exactly what you wanted out of the relationship but tonight, after a tequila shot that ignited a confidence you didn't realize was simmering, you and Layla both decided what you wanted, for at the very least tonight; was him. The night unfolded in a familiar dance between you and Trent, just as it always had. You stayed close, barely touching, your hand brushing his as you passed by, leaning into him when you laughed, your voice lingering just a bit too close. But then, you pushed it further. You caught his gaze and held it, a mischievous spark lighting up in your eyes. As the party pulsed around you, you slipped closer, cupping the shell of his ear, whispering something lighthearted into his ear while your teeth grazed his earlobe, feeling his whole body react. He turned, a cheeky, almost disbelieving smirk spreading across his face, clearly caught off guard but thrilled by the shift.

"Oh, so you want to play that way?" he teased, his tone low and daring. You two always tucked off at parties this wasn’t news but what you just whispered was. You nodded, flashing a smile, more certain than ever. He chuckled, narrowing his eyes in that competitive, confident way that both thrilled and terrified you. "I don't lose, baby," he reminded you, his voice a challenge as he leaned back, arms crossed, watching to see what you'd do next. The thrill of his words sent a shiver through you, your heartbeat matching the tempo of the music, and suddenly, it was all a game of daring glances and lingering touches, neither of you breaking the tension. So you continued to tease as you brushed your hand over his as you reached for a drink, let your fingers trail across his back as you slipped past him, laughing a little too sweetly in his ear. And Trent was no less relentless, stepping close enough that his breath tickled your cheek, his hand brushing your lower back just as he moved to let someone by, his gaze a quiet, playful reminder that he was more than ready to keep up. It became an unspoken competition, each of you pushing the limits just to see who would break first. Now that you had had a taste, knowing what was possible, every moment grew sharper, more electric, and even in the crowded room, it felt like it was only the two of you, locked in this game of desire and restraint, neither one willing to give in-yet. Until an idea popped into your head to get him to cave.

"Lay, can you see my nipples in this?" you asked, feigning nonchalance as you all stood in the kitchen. You turned solely to Layla, your eyes wide with playful innocence as you tugged at the hem of your shirt. The overhead recessed lighting illuminating you. You tilted your head slightly, looking down at the thin shimmery material, your fingers tracing the fabric, exposing just a little more of your skin. It was a bold question but Layla hummed not phased in the least. Playing her role. Yes, you wore this shirt because you could do just that very thing.

"Babe, I think that's the point of that top," she teased, her eyes sparkling as she looked you over. Her humor was unwavering in character, pretending this wasn’t a planned conversation. "But it's a party, you look stun! Your tit’s are perfect. Arguably, the best part of the fit." She told you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Trent shift slightly, his jaw tightening as he took another sip of his drink. You knew he was trying to hold back, that this question was pushing him to his edge. So, you decided to take it even further, turning to him with a coy smile.

"What do you think, T?" you asked, tilting your head as if you were just seeking an honest opinion. His eyes flickered over you, his hand tightening around his glass, his expression a mix of amusement and restraint.

"Think you know what I think," he said, voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone. He shot you a look, something intense behind his gaze, and you could see him fighting not to react as much as he wanted to.

“Well could you share with the class?" Layla interrupted, prompting Trent to actually have to articulate his feelings and smiling as she did it. You shrugged, tossing her a wink as if this was all in good fun, but you felt the charge in the air between you and Trent. You'd pushed him just far enough, and the look in his eyes told you he'd make you pay for it later. Trent's gaze dropped, his expression shifting, a mix of amusement and tension in his eyes as you dared to pull him further into this game. His grip tightened around his drink once over, clearly trying to hold himself back. He shot you a low, heated look that felt as much a warning as it did a challenge.

"You're pushing it," he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. But there was a hint of a smirk as he looked at you, a spark that showed he was just as invested in this as you were.

"Why?" You teased aloud, cocking your head with feigned innocence, fingers lightly tracing the edge of your top, letting his eyes follow the path. "Does it not look alright?” You asked. He exhaled, a slow, measured sound, his gaze moving from your shirt to your face.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to," he replied, fighting a grin, as his hand discreetly brushed your arm. His voice was soft, almost casual, but you could feel the tension behind it, each word carrying a weight he didn't want to admit out loud. He was a little annoyed that you now had Layla on your team to tease him. It was 2 v 1. You now had a man advantage.

“So you don’t like it?” Layla asked Trent, feigning offense for you. Trent rolled his eyes at her. She laughed, shaking her head. You just smiled, playing along, turning to Trent with a mischievous look.

"Wait, you don’t like it?" you pressed, pretending not to notice how close you'd pulled him into your orbit. Trent took another breath trying to think how to navigate this. All he wanted to do was drag you into any bedroom and tell you just how much he really liked the way you looked but he couldn’t. Layla already found out tonight, no one else could. His silence was telling but also deafening. "Do you like the way I look or not?" You asked with drunken confidence. He looked at you, eyes sharp, with a grin he couldn't contain.

"Enough. You know my answer. Drop it" His voice had that edge again, that quiet challenge that sent a thrill through you. There was a split-second pause, a moment charged with the unspoken, before you stepped back, keeping your own playful expression in place. But you knew it was a matter of time before one of you broke, before this playful game turned into something real.

As the night wore on, the crowd and music faded into a backdrop, leaving only the charged atmosphere between you and Trent. It was an unspoken battle of wills, a daring game that grew bolder with each passing second. You felt his eyes following you across the room, and the thrill of being wanted, truly wanted, filled you with a mix of confidence and something new, something closer to risk. The sheer top and conversation didn’t prove to be enough and you were starting to feel a bit… needy. The music pulsed as you approached him with a casual smile, keeping your expression neutral while letting your fingers brush along his arm as you passed. He barely reacted, save for a flicker in his gaze that told you he felt it. Moments later, he slipped past you in a crowded corner, his hand just grazing the small of your back as he leaned close, lips at your ear. "You're not going to win," he whispered, his voice both soft and daring. You shot him a challenging look, cocking your head just slightly.

"You think I'll back down that easily? For you?" You taunted. A knowing smirk played on his lips as he took a slow step closer, his arm stretching around you to reach for a drink. His body pressed just lightly against yours, lingering in a way that made your skin tingle.

"Not sure you know what you've started," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as he finally pulled away. A small gasp left your lips, covered by the music, as he gave you a smug look and turned his attention back to the party. It only made you more determined. The evening continued like this-every move, every touch, carefully calculated. You brushed his shoulder with your hand while walking by, your fingers trailing just enough to make him turn. He placed a hand on your arm, steadying you as you reached for your glass, his fingers pressing just enough to remind you of his presence. By the time the lights dimmed, your heart was racing. You were now getting antsy. He was too good at having restraint. You now were beyond needy.

"Not going to quit, are you?" You leaned in close, brushing your lips by his ear as you whispered. A chuckle escaped his lips, low and filled with confidence.

"Not a chance. I told you-l don't lose." He smirked. You took a bold step forward, letting your hand linger on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm as you looked up into his eyes. The tension was almost overwhelming, each of you daring the other to give in. But instead of backing down, you pulled him even closer, so close you could feel his breath on your neck, close enough to hear him exhale as his hand settled firmly on your waist. This wasn't the subtle game it had started as— it was unmistakable now, and neither of you conscious enough to know if anyone would noticed. No one had, too caught up in their own drunken escapades to noticed you’d fallen down a rabbit hole in yours. You slipped your hand around his back, pressing into him as the tension between you reached a breaking point. Trent looked at you, a mixture of heat and amusement in his eyes as he brought his lips close, stopping just shy of kissing you, letting the moment stretch out until it was nearly unbearable. "You want me to call it a draw?" he murmured, voice thick with that same mix of excitement and restraint. You smirked, shaking your head just a fraction. Your heart raced at the thought of being alone with him, away from prying eyes. You'd fantasized about this moment since your last and now you wanted it even more. The thrill of it almost being public but still hidden turning you on an embarrassing amount, pushing any clear thinking out the window.

"No, I thought you don’t lose." You reminded him. And he didn’t. You did when you tucked off to the bathroom. The party’s buzz felt distant as you stumbled down the hallway, your movements light but unsteady, fueled by a mix of alcohol and adrenaline. Your skin burned with the heat of Trent’s lingering touch, your head spinning from the intensity of his gaze, the press of his body against yours. You’d hit your limit, unable to take the teasing any longer, and now all you could think about was escaping to collect yourself Trent’s dark eyes followed your retreat, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, as he watched you sway slightly in your steps. You didn’t turn back—you couldn’t. If you did, you’d be pulled right back into him, and you weren’t sure if you could hold yourself together. Trent chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He knew exactly why you were walking away, and the thought of you trying to resist him only made him more certain of his power over you.

When you reached the bathroom, you pushed the door closed with a soft thud, pressing your back against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. But you were determined and horny. Your fingers trembled as you peeled off the flimsy sheer top you’d teased Trent in the whole night, your skin cooling in the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom. The mirror caught your reflection, the flush on your cheeks, the messy allure of your hair, and the way the glow of the dim light seemed to highlight every curve. You bit your lip, tilting your head as you studied your reflection, feeling bold under the influence of tequila and Trent’s attention.You grabbed your phone, angling it just right as you snapped a few photos in the mirror, each one bolder than the last. Finally, satisfied, you selected the one that captured just the right mix of sultry and confident. The thrill of the moment rushed through you as you typed out a single message.

You hit send, your heart pounding as you imagined his reaction. Across the party, Trent felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket. A signal of victory. His smirk deepened as he pulled it out, casually unlocking the screen. When he saw the photo, his breath caught for a split second, his tongue running over his bottom lip as his eyes lingered on the image. You looked unreal. Without hesitation, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and straightened up, his casual demeanor hiding the urgency he felt. He didn’t bother replying; words wouldn’t cut it. He needed to see you, touch you, remind you exactly why you couldn’t stay away. As he weaved through the crowded party, his smirk stayed firmly in place. Trent Alexander-Arnold was a man on a mission, and he had every intention of making sure you regretted ever starting this game.

You waited for him, like you always had. The air in the bathroom felt thick, charged with anticipation. Your heart raced as you adjusted your stance, bracing yourself for what was to come. A soft knock broke the silence, cautious yet laced with the kind of confidence only Trent could muster. You bit your lip, smiling to yourself.

"It's me," he murmured through the door. You hummed softly in confirmation, and he didn't hesitate to slip inside. The door closed with a quiet click, and the lock turned with a finality that sent shivers down your spine. "Baby, baby, baby…," he taunted, his voice low and teasing as he leaned casually against the door. You couldn't hold back your smirk. His presence filled the small room, intoxicating and overwhelming all at once. "You going to be gracious in defeat?" he asked, his eyes dark and focused as he closed the space between you. You tilted your chin up defiantly, even as your pulse quickened.

"You never told me if you liked the top or not," you countered, your voice a soft challenge.Trent's smirk widened, predatory, as he stepped closer. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him with a force that made your breath hitch. The edge of the marble sink pressed into your back as he pinned you there, his body crowding yours.

"I think," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, sending a delicious shiver down your neck, "I might like you better without it.” Before you could respond, his lips descended on your neck, warm and insistent, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your knees weaken. You gasped, your hands instinctively finding his shoulders for support.

"T..." you started, but your words dissolved into a moan as his mouth trailed lower, sucking softly at the sensitive spot near your collarbone.

"You were being too obvious," he scolded lightly between kisses, his voice vibrating against your skin. You tried to protest, shaking your head.

"I wasn't..." you began, but the sentence fell apart as his teeth nipped at your neck, followed by the soothing sweep of his tongue.The sound that escaped your lips was involuntary, a mix of frustration and desire. "God, I fucking love how your lips feel on me," you breathed out, your head tilting back as he smirked against your skin, clearly pleased with himself. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you impossibly closer as he continued his slow, deliberate assault. He wasn't just kissing you-he was claiming you, reminding you that no matter how hard you tried to play coy, he would always have the upper hand.

"Say it again," he murmured, his lips hovering just over your jawline. You barely had the breath to comply, your fingers curling into his shirt.

"I love it," you whispered. "I love the way you-" Trent silenced you with his lips on yours, cutting off the confession as his mouth moved with an intensity that left you dizzy. The room spun, and for a moment, the world outside that bathroom didn't exist. "We’ll be quick and you’ll be quiet, yeah?” he said, his voice dropping and getting huskier. You looked at him in a haze, your eyes taking in his muscular frame, accentuated by the soft glow of the lighting.

“I’ll be quiet but this won’t be quick," you whispered, reaching up to caress his face. Trent's eyes darkened with desire as he pulled you closer, his lips finding yours in another passionate kiss. His tongue danced with yours, tasting the remnants of the liquor you'd been drinking. You moaned into his mouth, your hands roaming over his broad shoulders, feeling the strength in his arms. Breaking the kiss, Trent trailed his lips down your neck again, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses. He nipped at your sensitive skin, causing you to arch into him, craving more.

"I think we’re getting a little reckless," he murmured against your skin almost tauntingly.

"Absolutely," you whispered, your voice breathy with anticipation. Trent's hands came to palm your bare cheat. Finally after all night, all that teasing, behind that flimsy material, your tits were all for him. He cupped them, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, eliciting a gasp from you.

"We should maybe stop" he whispered, his breath hot on your skin. He was mocking you. He wasn’t going to stop. Not in a million years and you both knew that. You leaned back against the marble counter, allowing him access to your body.

“Definitely.” You whined as his kisses to your jaw, over it, working down your neck towards your collarbone diligently. He sucked on a sensitive spot, bitting a little with his teeth pulling at your skin. You hissed at the pain and then melted into pleasure as he continued sucking over the spot soothing it with his tongue. He placed a few more harsh bites on you leaving behind marks as your eyes rolled back in pleasure feeling his perfect lips. Trent moved over your body in what felt like slow motion as he reached your tits. You could barely think straight as his lips closed around one nipple, sucking gently at first, then with increasing urgency. His tongue teased and flicked, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You threaded your fingers into his curls, holding him close, encouraging him to continue.

"You love this, don't you?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desire, muffled against your skin. "You wanted to get caught.” He told you partly out of curiosity and partly out of seduction.

"Yeah," you breathed, your head falling back as he switched to the other nipple, lavishing it with equal attention. "Don't stop, please." Trent's hands traveled down your body, his fingers deftly unzipping your skirt, sliding it down your legs until you were before him in just your panties and heels. He took a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form, a look of pure admiration on his face.

“You’re fucking unreal.” He cooed a bit in disbelief caught in a place of wanted control and loosing any sense of it around you. “We’re gonna get caught, you want that baby?” he said, his voice thick with mock. You stepped forward, closing the distance between you, and reached for his belt, eager to touch him. Your fingers fumbled with the buckle, but soon you had his trousers unfastened, revealing his boxers, tented with his obvious arousal.

“Please.” You whimpered as took over, quickly shedding his pants and underwear. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, standing proudly before you. You sank to your knees, taking him in your hands, stroking his length. Trent's breath hitched as you leaned forward, licking the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum that beaded there. You took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, earning a groan of pleasure from him.

"Fuck, you're incredible," he muttered, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding your movements. You bobbed your head, taking him deeper, your throat opening to accommodate his girth. Trent's hips thrust gently, meeting your rhythm, as he savored the sensations you were providing.

“Do you like winning, baby?” You mumbled sloppy words, knowing they’d only turn him on more. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, as you sucked and teased, determined to give him the best blowjob of his life.

"I'm close, baby," he warned, his voice strained. "But you’re gonna let me come inside you, hmm?" He asked but really he was telling you. You stood, your body humming with desire. His hands pushed your hips towards the sink counter. The cold marble protruded into your back. You gasped but he swallowed it with a kiss. He lifted you up easily and placed you on the counter. The kiss was hot and heavy, his tongue immediately invading your mouth and toying with yours. He let his hand drift back down and slid one finger directly inside you eliciting another gasp from you. His sudden moments made the base of your spine tingle, but when his thumb began to draw precise circles on your clit, your body shook slightly as a deep moan got lost in his mouth. When he dipped another finger into your wet heat, he pulled another deep moan from you and in an attempt to push you closer to the edge, he curled his fingers even further against that one spot and pressed his thumb into your clit harder. It didn’t take long until you came around his fingers. Your slick dripping down his hand. He pulled his fingers out slowly covered in your juices, he stuck them in your mouth and you greedily sucked his fingers licking around them like you just did his cock while he began pumping his leaking hard on with his other hand. In swift movements, he was aligning his cock with your entrance. His hands gripped your hips, positioning himself at your entrance. With one smooth thrust, he filled you, eliciting a moan of pleasure from both of you. He dropped his forehead to your chest, trying to avoid cumming on the spot.

“T, baby.” You could only manage another whine, too focused on the slow drag of his cock, you could feel every hard vein and ridge of it slowly fucking into you.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his voice raw. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting his powerful thrusts with your own. The party boomed outside marrying sounds of the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin and your mutual moans of pleasure behind the closed door. Trent's hands roamed your body, squeezing your boobs, pinching your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through you. He leaned down, his lips capturing one nipple, sucking and biting gently, as his hips continued their relentless pace.

"You're so good f’me baby," he panted between kisses. "Why’d you have to tease me all night. You knew I’d give you this cock tonight” He told you as you arched your back, pushing your tits into his mouth, craving more.

"I wanted it now though," you managed to say between gasps. “Wanted you to fuck me baby. You were playing with me." You tried to pout but your lips parted when Trent's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he neared his climax. He withdrew his length almost completely before slamming back into you, hitting your sweet spot with each stroke.

"Fuxk, you’re gonna make me cum again," you whispered, your nails digging into his back. His fingers dug into your skin and his head fell back. He tilted his head back up and looked directly into your eyes. Your heart skipped a bit at the attention.

“Be a good girl right now. Cum f’me. Cum on my cock while everyone is out there. Don't hold back." He told you through a grunt, his hips moving faster, his body slick with sweat. He smoothly slipped his fingers in your mouth again, stopping your words. You sucked on his fingers desperately dragging your tongue around them, split pooling in the corners of your mouth. He moaned at the sensation. He popped them out quickly though. His wet hand racked down the front of you dipping to come play with your clit. You gasped and let out a filthy moan as he started to draw tight circles around it. Your orgasm built, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you cried out, your body trembling as you came, your walls clenching around his throbbing cock. “Good girl. Doing so well, baby. Told you I don’t loose” Trent said with a smile pulling across his face having to bite his lip just from the sight of seeing you cum as his cock continued to pump in and out of you. You wanted to yell at him annoyed but you couldn’t, losing felt too good. His fingers stayed playing with your clit for a little as you trembled, starting to overstimulate you.

“Baby, please cum inside me. I need you.” You begged feeling the overstimulation turn into another bout of pleasure that was consuming all your thoughts, your brain turning to mush as he continued to fuck you. You needed him to fill you up. You loved Trent having control of you, letting him fuck you hidden away in this bathroom. Layla’s cautions evaporating.

“I got you, baby. Cum for me one more time. Cum with me, yeah?” He whispered in your ear. Your pussy dripped around him. You bit your lip, looking at him with desperate doe eyes. Trent could feel the veins running along his cock throbbing. He worked his hips faster, harsher. Both of your pleasure building higher and higher. “Fuck.” Trent finally filled you, his body tensing as he emptied himself inside you, his breath hot against your neck. As your heart rates slowed, he pulled your body into his tighter. Goosebumps arose on your skin, finally able to notice the cool of the sink counter contrasting to your hot skin. He wrapped his arms around you so tightly. Your sweaty skin sticking together. The temperature in the atmosphere of the room was so humid. Your eyes stayed closed for a little, you were completely saturated with bliss. You could barely breathe but you had never felt better in your life.

“You okay, baby?” He whispered into your neck. He rested his head down on your shoulder. You took another deep breath before smiling. “Yeah?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. You snuggled into his embrace, feeling his heart pounding against you.

"Shit sorry.” You apologized but Trent shook his head dismissing it. It was so reckless but he wanted this just as bad. “I hope no one heard," you confessed, tracing his jawline with your fingertips, starting to feel reality seep under the door and into the room but not being pungent enough to get your mind out of this blissful state of being in front of him. Trent's eyes sparkled with satisfaction, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

"Nah, we’re okay. We’ll be okay," he promised, his lips ghosting over yours. "I got you, baby.” He told you. The sincerity in his voice kept the goosebumps raised on your skin. You giggled almost delirious, your heart fluttering with both nerves and joy at what just happened. The world outside the room started to fade back in more and more but the anxiety that came from your conversation with Layla earlier in the night had melted away entirely by the heat of Trent’s proximity.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 8 xx

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

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butlervibesonly · 1 day ago

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𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 || Austin Butler

• Summary : It is yours and Austin's 10th anniversary, and it's not just any kind. Austin wants this anniversary to be the best anniversary ever, and as you probably might know — he's going to be successful.

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Warnings : Nothing more than a fluff

The sky is painted with shades of pink and gold as the sun sinks toward the horizon, casting a warm glow across the beach. It’s a quiet spot that Austin and you stumbled upon years ago, early in your relationship, and it quickly became one of your favorite places—a little hideaway where it feels like the rest of the world disappears.

It's actually yours and Austin's 10th dating anniversary. You guys met in your early teenage years, on the set of some series that was your early start of acting career. Since the moment Austin's eyes met yours, there was absolutely no doubt you two fell in love completely.

As today marks 10th anniversary, he suggested this beach outing earlier, insisting on going in time to catch the sunset. He even packed a little picnic for the two of you, spreading out a soft blanket on the sand, the sound of waves lapping against the shore filling the quiet as you sit together, sipping wine and sharing stories from the day. Austin’s been holding your hand the entire time, his thumb gently tracing circles along your skin, and every so often, you catch him looking at you with a soft, almost undescribable expression.

As the sun dips lower, casting that magical, golden light across everything, he suddenly stands, reaching down and offering you his hand with a small smile. “Walk with me, love?” he asks, his voice a little softer than usual. You take his hand, letting him guide you closer to the water, where the waves gently wash over your feet. "Oooh, it's cold!" you giggle as the cold wave of ocean hit your legs. You were wearing beautiful white dress, they were little longer, so you hold their hem so they wouldn't get wet.

For a moment, Austin just holds your hand, looking out at the ocean as if gathering his thoughts. Then he turns to you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. Austin takes a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours as he begins to speak. “I remember the first time I met you,” he says, his voice a little unsteady. “I remember thinking… I’ve never met anyone like her. You walked in, and I knew, even then, that my life was about to change. And every day since, you’ve been the best thing in my life.”

You feel a warmth rise in your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as he steps closer, holding both of your hands now. “I’ve thought about this moment so many times, honey,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion.

“How I’d tell you just how much you mean to me. How every day with you has made me feel more complete than I ever thought I could.” Austin says, his eyes shining with something so unspoken, yet so bright.

"I don’t think I ever really knew what love was until I met you, Y/n... You’ve been my sun, my laughter, my reason to wake up every morning with a smile. You’ve seen me at my best, with your support and brightness. And even at my worst, and you were there, being a shoulder i could cry on, my strength. And everything in between, and through it all, you’ve been my safe place."

Austin pauses, his eyes softening as he watches your reaction. Then, he slowly lowers himself down onto one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. Your heart skips a beat, and you clasp your hand to your mouth as he opens it, revealing a sparkling ring that catches the last rays of the setting sun.

"I really want to spend my life making you as happy as you’ve made me. I want to be there for every little adventure, and woah — there were already plenty of those small or big adventures!" he makes you giggle through your tears. "I want to be the one you lean on, the one you laugh with, the one you come home to, always. So, here I am, asking you, to let me be the person who gets to love you forever, because, Y/n, I can't imagine life with anyone but you."

His words are like blanket for your heart. The warmth and honesty that his speech brings is totally unbelievable and you already love this moment more than anything.

“Y/n, will you marry me?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, filled with love and hope. Your and also his eyes are filled with tears as the moment fills both of your heart.

You can barely speak, as you nod. “Yes,” escapes your lips, almost sobbing. Austin's face lights up with the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen as he slips the ring onto your finger, then stands, pulling you into his arms. He kisses you, deeply and softly, the two of you wrapped up in each other, standing in the golden light as waves crash around you.

When you finally pull back, both of you laughing and a little breathless, he holds your face, gazing into your eyes with pure love. “Forever,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping the tears from your face. "I can't wait to be yours, forever." you kiss him passionately.

"I love you, so much."

"I love you too, Austin."

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler fandom #austin butler x y/n

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nomie-11 · 2 days ago

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Chapter 27 - Starchild Rising

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“Genevieve!” Genevieve’s mother called out, her eyes flickering with joy in the sunlight. “Don’t go too far!”

“I won’t!” Her little voice carried far in the wind. May was Genevieve’s favorite month of the year, despite being born on the spring solstice in April, because the flowers bloomed after it rained all April, and the fields cleared for her to run through. “I promise, mama!”

And the little girl laughed as she ran, her bare feet sinking into the soft earth as the sun bathed the world in golden warmth. Genevieve’s heart soured with the freedom of youth, her long hair flowing like ribbons behind her. The world felt boundless, safe. The meadow stretched endlessly before her, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the hum of bees. In this place, everything was perfect, untouched by darkness.

She darted between the tall grasses, her giggles echoing in the open air. Her small hands reached for the wildflowers, gathering them in bunches of color—violet purples, lily whites, poppy reds.

Her mother’s voice was distant now, but Genevieve paid it no mind. She felt invincible. The sky seemed as endless as her dreams, and the meadow was a world where nothing could go wrong.

But the memory, vivid in her unconscious mind, suddenly darkened. The sunlight dimmed as if clouded by an unseen force. The flowers in her hands faded to black and withered, turning brittle and dry, crumbling to ash. The wind, once warm and inviting, turned cold, biting at her skin.

“Genevieve!” Her mother’s voice, once filled with joy, was sharp now, almost panicked. “Genevieve, come back!”

The little girl turned to run back toward the sound of her mother’s voice, but the meadow had changed. The grass was no longer soft, but sharp and thorny. It cut at her feet, leaving trails of blood behind. She stumbled, fear swelling in her chest as the world around her seemed to close in.

Her mother was nowhere to be seen.

“Mama!” she cried out, but only the cold wing answered her. The vibrant colors of the world faded to gray, the sky turning an oppressive shade of stormy black.

Suddenly, there was a figure in the distance—a shadowy form in dark purple robes with blood red eyes that loomed large, watching her. This was no longer a memory but a nightmare, but Geneiveve, even in this child form, could feel the malice emanating from it. She backed away, her heart pounding, but her feet wouldn’t move fast enough.

A voice, deep and menacing, whispered through the air, “you will never be free.”

Genevieve’s breath came in panicked gasps as the shadow advanced. The ground beneath her feet cracked open, and she fell, tumbling into darkness.

The last thing she heard before the ground closed up around her, and the darkness consumed her, was her mother's voice, faint and filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry, my starchild…”

Genevieve’s body twitched in the present, her unconscious form lying broken and battered. The fever dream blurred the lines between past and present, pain and memory. Until she shot up in her bed.

A horrid cough wracks her body for a second, before she immediately pushes the covers off of herself and attempts to stand, startling Xaden out of his wide eyed trance. Clattering to the floor, Genevieve’s shaking hand made contact with the nearest trash bin and pulled it in close, throwing up stomach bile and tears.

Xaden was on her in seconds, his hands steady as they rubbed her back in slow, comforting circles. “Gen, you’re safe,” he whispered, though his voice was thick with worry. She could barely hear him over the sound of her own retching.

Her body convulsed, violently rejecting whatever remnants of the poison still lingered in her system. Her hands shook uncontrollably, her vision blurred with tears and nausea. The taste of bile stung the back of her throat, and her chest heaved with every gasping breath.

When the heaving finally subsided, Genevieve slumped forward, trembling, her forehead resting against the cool metal of the trash bin. her entire body felt weak, drained, like every ounce of energy has been ripped from her veins.

“Here,” Xaden’s voice was closer now, softer. He crouched beside her, holding out a glass of water that he had clearly been holding onto for hours—no, days, in hopes that she would wake up and take it from him. She flinched at his touch, her mind still reeling from the nightmare, from the searing pain that had held her captive.

“Don’t—” Her voice cracked, rough like sandpaper and barely above a whisper. She couldn’t even meet his eyes, couldn’t even bear to see whatever mix of emotions he might be feeling—anger, guilt, maybe even pity. She wanted none of it.

“Don’t what? What’s wrong?” His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something more. Desperation? Fear? It was hard to tell.

“Don’t touch me,” She croaked, pulling herself away from him, even though every muscle in her body screamed in protest. Her arms shook as she tried to push herself off the floor, but she didn’t make it far before she collapsed once more, tears stinging her eyes. “What even happened?”

Xaden hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering near her back before he withdrew it slowly, respecting her wish for space. His jaw tightened as he looked down at her, the weight of the situation crashing over him like a wave. “You… saved Violet,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “You nearly died doing it.”

Genevieve squeezed her eyes shut, her breath hitching as memories of the battle of Liam’s last words, and of Violet’s pale, dying face came flooding back. Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. “Liam…?” She didn’t dare ask, didn’t want to hear the answer, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Xaden’s expression darkened, the weight of his silence crushing her. “He’s gone, Genevieve,” he said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “He… he made sure you got to Violet. He knew what it would cost.”

The room seemed to close in around her, the air suddenly thick and suffocating. Genevieve shook her head, denying the truth, her heart shattering anew. “No… no, no, no.” Her voice broke, and she pressed her hands to her forehead, trying to stifle the sobs rising in her throat.

Xaden knelt beside her again, close but not touching, his own grief etched in the hard lines of his face. “I’m sorry, Gen,” he murmured, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. “Liam… he knew. He knew what you had to do, and he made the choice.”

Genevieve shook her head violently, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I should’ve saved him,” she choked out, her voice thick with guilt and regret. “I promised him. I promised I’d save him and Violet, and I—I couldn’t… I couldn’t save him”

“You did what he asked, Genevieve,” Xaden said, his tone firm, but still gentle enough to not startle her. “He didn’t want you to stay. He wanted you to save her. He wanted you to live.”

Genevieve couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer, her body wracked with the force of her grief. The weight of everything she had lost—Liam, her friends, even pieces of herself—was too much to bear. She had done what Liam asked, but at what cost? She had sacrificed a part of her life force to Violet, and now… now she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel whole again.

“Genevieve—” Xaden moved to catch her before she could fall fully, his grip firm but not overbearing. He didn’t let her fall, but he also didn’t force her to stay. “You need to drink the water.”

She wanted to push him away, to shout at him, to scream that none of this was fair. That the world had twisted her, torn her apart, and left her with nothing but ashes and the guilt of the lives she couldn’t save. But the words wouldn’t come. The fight was gone, replaced by a hollowness so deep it consumed her.

“You should have let me die.” The words slipped out, unbidden, harsh, raw.

Xaden’s expression hardene. “You don’t get to say that.” His voice was sharp now, cutting through the lingering fog in her mind. “Not after what you’ve been through. Not after everything they’ve done to keep you alive.”

She laughed bitterly, hand moving to her head to ease the headache that still persisted, though her laugh was more sounding like a wheeze than anything. “Keep me alive for what, Xaden? To keep fighting? to be fed more lies? To watch more people die? I couldn’t even save—” Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow down the tears. Now Xaden knows that she remembers everything. “I couldn’t save him.”

Xaden’s eyes darkened, shadows flickering across his face as her words cut through the room like jagged glass. He sat back slightly, his jaw clenching tight. “Don’t do that, Genevieve. Don’t blame yourself for Liam’s death.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, the exhaustion melting away just enough to let the raw anger, the pain, and the guilt rise to the surface. “How can I not? I promised him, Xaden. I promised that I would go back, that I would save him once I saved Violet. I was supposed to get him out alive, and now he’s gone.”

Xaden’s hand hovered just shy of touching her shoulder, like he wanted to comfort her but knew she would recoil. His voice was low and steady, but there was an edge to it—sharp, but forgiving. “Liam made his own choices. We all did. And I won’t let you destroy yourself over something you couldn’t control.”

Her throat tightened, tears threatening to fall, but she swallowed them back. “You weren’t there,” she whispered. “You didn’t see his face, hear his scream, see the way he looked at me. He trusted me, and I failed.”

Xaden fumbles for a moment, shoving his hand into his pocket to retrieve a carving of two dragons. The two dragons were unmistakable, the larger one was Tairn, no doubt, but the smaller one wasn’t Sgaeyl or Astrape. It was Deigh. The two dragons stood side by side, each and every scale intricately arranged.

She turns in his direction, her gaze immediately lockeding on the figurine, and her eyes water. “It’s my fault,” she whispers once more.

“No, it’s mine. If I had just told you everything sooner, you would have been prepared. Hell, you and Violet probably could have figured out how to kill them.” Xaden’s heart breaks all over again as she swipes at the twin tears with the back of her hands. He sets the carving down in the palm of her good hand. “I know I should have, but I couldn’t bear to burn it. We laid him to rest yesterday. Well, the others did. I haven’t left this room since we got here.” Their gazes collide, and it takes all of his strength not to reach out for her, but he knows he’s the last place she’ll seek for comfort now. “I haven’t left you.”

“You shouldn’t have brought me back here,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, barely audible. “You shouldn’t have risked everything.”

Xaden hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer. “We didn’t go back to Basgiath, Gen.”

Her eyes snapped open at that. Confusion clouded her expression as she looked around again, realizing for the first time that the room wasn’t familiar. It didn’t have the cold stone walls of Basgiath. There were no healers bustling around or familiar faces from the war college. Everything was quieter, softer, as if the world outside this room was… peaceful.

“Where are we?” She croaked, throat still burning.

Xaden stood, moving toward the window. He didn’t answer immediately, instead drawing back the heavy curtains to reveal the view beyond. Genevieve squinted, her head throbbing, but as her vision cleared, her breath caught in her chest.

The city outside was familiar. It wasn’t crumbled, so no, it couldn't be… this wasn’t the ruined Aretia she remembered from the rebellion’s devastation. It was rebuilt. The stone towers, the arched bridges, the marketplace teeming with life—it was like a memory of a place that should have been long gone. But it was real, standing tall against the horizon, bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun.

“We’re home,” Xaden said quietly, his back to her as he looked out over the city. “Aretia.”

Genevieve’s heart stuttered in disbelief. “But… how?”

He turned to face her, his expression serious but soft. “You know how.”

Genevieve’s breath hitched as she processed his words, her gaze flicking between Xaden and the city beyond the window. Aretia, her home, wasn’t lost. It had risen from cinders and fallen pillars of smoke and ash.

“You’ve… rebuilt it,” she whispered, barely believing it herself.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Genevieve didn’t know what to say. The weight of her guilt and her pain still hung heavily on her, but there was something else now, too. A glimmer of hope—fait, but undeniable.

With some miraculous wave of strength, Genevieve pushed herself to a stand. “Give me like ten seconds to get dressed, and then you have a lot to spill.”

“Kicking me out of my own room,” he reaches for that sarcastic, teasing tone he used to use with her before… everything flipped upside down. “That's a new one.”

“Now, Riorson.”

Ouch. Xaden can’t help but wince. Genevieve never uses his last name. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t like to remember the world her father isolated her from when mentioning Fen Riorson, but he’s always been Xaden to her. The loss feels like a bottomless abyss, a death blow to every ounce of hope he was clinging to in their relationship. “Bathing chamber is through there. Call if you need anything, ok?” He points to the far wall and strides for the exit, swinging his sword over his back on the way out.

As he leaves, Bodhi is leaned up against the wall, talking to Garick, who’s boasting a new six-inch scar from temple to jaw, but they both fall silent as he shuts the door behind him. They tense and Garrick stands to his full height. “She’s awake.”

“Thank Amari,” Bodhi says, his shoulders sagging. His arm is still in a sling, recovering from the four places a venin fractured it.

“And the poison? Is her hair still all weird?” Garrick asks, concern in his eyes. He’s already told Xaden that he thinks the effects will be temporary, or won’t really affect her on a daily, but the real worry is for Xaden’s mental state if she doesn’t forgive him for not telling her sooner.

“The black is mostly faded from her hair, just a few streaks here or there,” Xaden shrugged, glancing back at the door to his room which held the very girl they were talking about. “Any word from the fliers?”

“Syrena is alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Bodhi answers. “So is her sister. But the rest…” He shakes his head.

At least they made it out, and now that Genevieve is awake, Xaden can finally breathe. “You figure out that that box was that Chradh was drawn to back at Resson?” He asks. Garrick’s dragon is apparently remarkably sensitive to runes, which allowed them to retrieve a small iron box beneath the rubble of the clock tower Violet had blown up.

“No clue. They’re working on it right now. Hopefully we’ll have an answer in the next couple of hours. I’m glad she’s all right, Xaden. I’ll tell Violet and the others.” He nods once and heads down the hall confidently, knowing the castle lay out almost as well as Xaden does, considering he spent every summer in this very building, in this wing, before the apostasy.

Bodhi wrinkles his nose.

“What?”

“No wonder she kicked you out. You smell like dragon ass.”

“Fuck off,” But he catches a whiff, and can’t argue. “I’m using your room.”

“I’ll consider it a personal favor, your majesty.” Bodhi snickers.

Xaden flips him off, and heads to his room.

—----------------------------------------

An hour later, Xaden is bathed and impatiently waiting outside of his own room in a fresh set of leathers with Bodhi, who’s doing his best to lighten Xaden’s irrevocably dark mood like he always is, when the door opens and Genevieve is just standing there.

He nearly swallows his tongue at the sight of her unbound, damp hair curling just above her shoulders. She awkwardly glances between Bodhi and Xaden, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her own fresh set of leathers, that was definitely not originally hers.

Bodhi grins, flashing a smile that looks exactly the same way Xaden’s aunts used to. “Good to see you up and about, Hale.” Then he smacks Xaden on the shoulder as he walks off, looking back over his shoulder. “I’ll go fetch the backup plan. Good luck.”

She looks back at Xaden, and with her good arm, she struggles to put her hair up into a bun, before just huffing in annoyance. “I would normally just have Violet do it,” she grumbles. “Well, come back in, you’ve got shit to explain.”

“As long as you've invited me.” He walks in, loathing the distrust and discomfort in her eyes.

Genevieve moved toward the small wooden desk by the window—his small wooden desk by the window—her steps slow and deliberate, her body still aching from the aftereffects of the poison and the battle. She sat down with a quiet exhale, her gaze fixed on the city beyond the glass, not looking at Xaden as he approached.

Xaden took a cautious step into his own bedroom, unsure of where to begin. His mind raced with everything he needed to explain—why they had left Basgiath, why they had come here, the rebellion, the secrets he had kept from her. The weight of it all pressed down on him, and for a moment, he wondered if any of it would matter. Would she ever trust him again?

“Is this all original?” She asks, her gaze sweeping over his bedroom.

“The majority of the fortress is stone,” He says as she studies the detailed arches at the ceiling, the natural lighting from the windows that consume the western wall. “Stone doesn’t burn.”

“Right.” She nods. “And my manor…?”

Xaden’s gaze flickered with hesitation before he answered, his voice low and cautious. “It’s in ruin, abandoned, Genevieve. No one has touched a single thing since you were taken.” He watched as her face tightened, but she remained silent, staring out the window as if the city beyond could give her back what she had lost.

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, he thought she might lash out, but instead, she let out a long, shaky breath, as if steeling herself for the inevitable truth. “So, nothing from my old life remains,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“The manor is still standing, but not of use, no.” His throat felt tight, knowing that her entire world had crumbled in ways she hadn’t even been conscious of. “But we salvaged some things. I had them brought here.”

That got her attention. She turned slowly to face him, a flicker of curiosity cutting through her otherwise guarded expression. “What things?”

“Personal items. A few heirlooms. I couldn’t save much, but your father’s journals… they’re intact.”

Genevieve blinked, a brief flicker of emotion crossing her face before it was gone, replaced by the same hollow exhaustion she had carried since waking. She glanced away, the weight of her father’s legacy hanging in the air between them.

“The journals,” she echoed softly, her voice distant. “Of course.”

”I can get them for you if—”

“No.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, and she shook her head quickly. “Not now. I… I can’t deal with that right now.”

Xaden nodded, not pushing any further. He could see how much it took just to stay upright, to focus on the conversation. “That’s fine. Whenever you’re ready.” He swallows. Hard. “I think after all you’ve seen, the question I have to ask before I tell you anything more is pretty simple. Are you in? Are you willing to fight with us?” She could just as easily decide to turn them all in. She didn’t know enough to condemn him before, but she does now.

“I’m in,” She nods, her eyes narrowing at the mere prospect of the question.

Relief surges through him in a rush more powerful than anything he could channel from Sgaeyl, and he reaches for her. “I’m so sorry I had to keep…” His words die on his tongue as she steps back, avoiding him.

“Not happening.” A world of hurt flashes in her light eye, and he withers. “Just because I believe you and am willing to fight with you doesn’t mean I’ll trust you with my heart again. And I can’t be with someone I don’t trust.”

Something in his chest crumples. “I’ve never lied to you, Gen. Not once. And I never will.”

She stands at the window and looks down, then slowly turns back to him, her hand snaking around her ribs as if trying to ease some pain or pressure. “It’s not even that you kept this from me. I get why you did it. It’s the ease with which you did it. You let me love you, you let me trust you with my heart, and promised it in return.” She shakes her head, and he sees it there, the love, but it’s masked behind defenses he had once crumbled but now foolishly rebuilt. “And you didn’t give me it in return.”

But he loves her, of course he loves her, he loved her months ago and he loves her now, but if he tells her now, she’ll think he’s saying it for all the wrong reasons. And honestly, he is. But he will not lose the only woman he’s ever fallen for without a fight. “You’re right. I kept secrets,” he admits, pressing forward again, taking step after step until he’s less than a foot from her. He palms the glass on both sides of her head, loosely caging her in, but they both know she could walk away if she wanted. But she doesn’t move. “It took me a long time to trust you, and an even longer time for me to realize I fell for you.”

Someone knocks, they ignore it.

“Don’t say that.” She lifts her chin, but he doesn’t miss the way she glances at his mouth.

“I fell for you,” he lowers his head and looks straight into her gorgeous eyes. She might be rightfully pissed, but she sure as Malek isn’t fickle. “And you know what? You might not trust me anymore, but you still love me.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t deny it.

“You reminded me why I don’t give out my trust easily, and it will be very hard for me to give it to you again.” She masks the hurt with a quick blink, a perfect porcelain mask slipping right into place.

Never again, Xaden thinks. Those eyes will never reflect the hurt I’ve inflicted ever again.

“I fucked up by not telling you sooner, and I won’t even try to justify my reasons. But now, I’m trusting you with my life—with everyone’s lives.” He risked it all just by bringing her back here instead of taking her body to Basgiath. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know and everything you don’t. I’ll spend every single day for the rest of my life earning back your trust if it means I get to spend it with you.”

Genevieve blinks. She’s forgotten what it felt like to be loved, really truly loved. And he’d forgotten as well. It’s been so many years since his father died. And his mom… not going there. But then Geneiveve gave him those words, gave him her trust, her heart, and he remembered. She remembered, too. He’d be damned if he doesn’t fight to keep it.

“And if it’s not possible?”

“You still love me. It’s possible.” Gods, do I ache to kiss her, to remind her exactly what we are together, but I won’t, not until she asks. “I’m not afraid of hard work, especially not when I know just how sweet the rewards are. I would rather lose this entire war than live without you and if that means I have to prove myself over and over, then I’ll do it. You have my heart, and I’m keeping yours.”

Her eyes widen, as if she’s finally seeing the resolve within him.

It’s time she knew everything. Knowing Genevieve, he knew she wouldn’t stay tucked away, safe behind Basgiath’s walls, especially not now that she knows just how corrupt those walls are. And whether or not he likes it, Violet is going to come along as well.

She’ll fight this war at his side.

There’s another insistent knock at the door.

“Fuck is she impatient,” he mutters. “You have about twenty seconds to ask a question, if I know her.”

She blinks. “I’m still hoping that the missive at Athebyne was really about the War Games. Do you think there's any chance we just happened to end up in the middle of a wyvern attack at that outpost?”

“That definitely wasn’t an accident, my girl,” she says from the doorway.

Xaden sighs and moves to the side, watching Genevieve’s eyes widen as she sees her standing in the doorway. “Told you I knew someone better than Nolon,” He says softly.

“Mother?” She stares at the woman in the doorway, her own mouth open in shock.

Aviva Hale just grins and opens her arms.

“Oh, my starchild, what have they done to you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

And that's a wrap on the main chapters of Fourth Wing!! We will have one more chapter, a brief epilogue will be posted on Saturday and then my longer final notes will be posted along with that.

What did we think? Good plot twist? I don't think anyone expected her mother to show up (she didn't expect it either-yikes sorry gen). How do we think Genevieve will take her mother's presence? We havent even talked to Violet yet, theres so much to do!

Anyways, thats it for now! I'll see you with the epilogue on saturday and then that will be a wrap on the wounded healer! As always, if you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or kudo, and I'll see you on Saturday!

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Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

#violet sorrengail #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing xaden #liam mairi #xaden and sgaeyl #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #garrick tavis x reader #liam mairi x reader #the empyrean #the wounded healer

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nothots-headempty · 17 hours ago

Text

Just Enough

Charles Xavier × reader

Summary: when the serum fades out and Charles is lost again, will you be enough to hold him together?

Word count: 2.4k+

Warnings: angst, serious agony, Charles Xavier needs a hug </3

Authors note: yall I wrote this as if I needed to make sense of a fever dream I had. Obsessed. I love this man so much help-

dofp!Charles my beloved. ^_^

"Now, sit steady or I'll really cut you on purpose."

You're fuming, eyes locked in with Charles. You approach his face with the shaving blade, a menacing glint to the metal edge and you can't help the little giggle that bursts through your lips when he scrunches his nose, worried.

"This pretty face is all I've got, love. Now that I've-", you interrupt his invariable turn to pessimism with a long sweep against his cheek, the smooth texture of his newly revealed skin more than inviting. You wonder how it would feel to press your mouth to it. And then you shirk that thought away.

His lips are slightly parted with an intention to make this easy for you. Or maybe because it's just that he is genuinely afraid of being maimed with the deadly weapon in your possession.

"Are you ever not cocky?", you smirk. Your fingers ease over his jaw, tilting his face back and the bathroom lamps catch the blue in his eyes like sapphires glinting in the sun. He's breath-taking. You wonder if he knows that.

"Cocky or just honest?" His hands are softly rubbing against your waist and it takes a gargantuan effort not to shift in his lap, chasing the feeling.

You drag the blade precariously under his jaw, his chest rising and falling under your hand as you brace yourself for some support. Is this as intimate as it feels? Does he hear your pulse the way you can hear his?

You swallow, something thick and stubborn still caught in your throat.

"Cocky. Definitely, cocky." Your gaze slides back to his, catching him in the middle of his own perusal of your face. But he doesn't seem caught at all.

His pupils glide gracefully over your features, your neck, a small smile playing wonders on his usually sullen face.

You missed this. Carefree Charles. Worried more about his thesis and dissertations than the souls of mutants he could never reach. People he could never be of help to. People he believes he's let down.

You touch the locks strewn on his forehead. The blue in his eyes recedes and then he's really taking you in, watching, caressing you with his eyes because his hands refused to follow through on that desire, that need he's had for months. Refused on ethic. On morals.

Morals you wish he'd just chuck out the window.

Your thumb runs along his forehead, the blade still threateningly poised near his neck. The moment doesn't seem to end, his gaze has you hostage, your fingers hold him down, grounded and you wish it would never change.

He jerks upright when the metal of the shaver touches his neck, a soft yelp thrown at you as if you'd been about to cut through him.

You wished you almost could. Break his mind open. Look through it, sift through the hurt and the pain. The splintered remains of his hopes, his dreams. Wish you could tell him it'll be alright.

Mostly, you wished your presence was enough to make him believe.

Maybe, it wasn't.

"Easy there, pumpkin. Don't want me losing more than the beard.", he laughs and you giggle with him. His hands take a moment to ease their grip on your waist, and your heart thrums at the reluctance you sense in him. Reluctance to let you go. You dislodge yourself from his lap, legs shaky as you let out that breath caught in your throat since you'd slotted your thighs against his.

"Alrighty. Time to wash up." You take the implements to the basin, cleaning everything as best you can, still revelling in the pressure of his digits as they tried to hold you to him.

"What next, professor?", you quip, focus still held by the clean up duty. There's an eerie silence that responds to your question but your attention really snaps back to him only when you hear him thrash in his seat.

His hands are pressed against his ears, his eyes screwed shut as if even a sliver of light would make him implode. It's in such stark contrast to the open gaze flitting over your form just seconds ago that its sends you reeling, the whiplash, the recoil almost physical. Palpable.

You lag for less than a second, but the manner of his legs stationed in the chair, almost disregarding the tumult in his person, explains everything you need to know.

"Charles?!", you hurry to his side, falling to your knees so you can find his gaze under all the chaos clouding around him. He's not even really here. You can tell.

He's lost somewhere in his own head, trying to make sense of his own thoughts from the baggage of those that don't belong. You press your hands into his cheeks, the prickle of his shorn stubble preventing the dissociation that threatens to steal you from his pain.

He's here, alright. You just need to find him again.

"Hank!", you shout, footsteps leading you blindly out of the room when your mind finally clears enough to think. "The serum, Hank! Now!", you shout and the answering thud of furniture is enough to send you tumbling back to the professor.

"Stay with me, Charles. Just a few minutes. You'll be fine." His eyes flutter open and he's looking at you, glazed over and lost but trying. Trying is all you need. You lean your forehead against his, hands planted on his chest.

"I'm here. You're alright."

"I can hear them again." His voice shatters something deep inside you. It's small, the ghost of a whisper. "Make them stop, please.", he's begging, pressing closer to you as if he wished you could shield him from the assault on his sanity.

You climb back into his lap, reticence, decorum forgotten, an easy battle won by your need to see him out of his agony.

"Breathe for me, Charles.", you whisper, hands running soothing circle on his chest. He looks at you again, eyes wide, your nod somewhat encouraging him to take the air into his lungs.

You attempt to pry one of his hands away, but the chill that passes through him sets you off that plan. You press your forehead back to his and wait.

"They won't stop. Why are people always in so much pain? What makes them like this?" There's tears on his cheeks, streaks of saline that run down his face. "Why must I take the pain around me and pretend like it's all okay? How can I be strong when... whe-"

His breaths are shallow again, teeth worrying his lip as if every little self-loathing thought was eating him inside out.

You're about to run back out to hurry Hank up with the serum but your mental cogs seem to turn just right and settle on a semblance of a distraction.

"Charles. Focus on me.", you're more stern this time. It's not a question and in his debilitation, he obeys. You breathe in deep, putting your own anxiety away, burying it somewhere deep.

"Get in my head.", you state, fact-like. There's no doubt in your voice. But it's painted clear on his face.

"I promised you never to do that.", he mumbles. The need to get away from himself is evident in his desperate gaze and you know you've nearly got to him. Beyond the haze, the debris of his broken cognition.

"Just. Focus. On me. I want you to." Your hands rest on his cheeks, turning him to face up to you. You shift one of his hands closer to his forehead, pressing his forefingers to his temple.

You suppress the smile on your lips, this image of Charles, the telepath, burnt into one of the coziest corners of your brain, the only difference from reality being the defeated glint in his eyes.

"All yours.", you whisper, but you know he's already inside your head, that familiar but elusive feeling surrounding you, like floating in ether. You relax further, and you can feel him give in too, his mind latching on to the memories from your first weeks at the academy, playing on repeat in your mind.

A perspective he'd never heard from your mouth. Images you'd put there now, just for him.

You think of them now, harder, making them stand out crystal clear in your head, letting his curiosity lave over the wounds that had opened up again.

You think of your first day here, the sun shining on the darkness inside you. You were lost before and still refused to believe you'd found a home. And then Charles had approached you, knocking lightly on the open door to your quarters, never trespassing, never over-bearing. Always just there.

You remember thinking of that glitter in his eyes, the curve of his smile, the assurance, the acceptance, the promise of more time to be yourself.

You remember wanting to leave, to go back to whatever outcast life you had before. And then there was that moment of locking eyes with your professor across the grounds. In the middle of the night. One trying to sneak out. The other trying his best to keep from sneaking in. Into your mind.

To speak to you. To let you know you're okay.

He'd told you as much the next morning when you'd shown up for class. His hand on your shoulder was more than confirmation that even the idea of leaving would never feel right again.

This was home now. Whether this man or his mansion, you didn't know then.

You pull out of your mind, checking in on the man before you. There's a faint smile on his lips, and his free hand has slunk down to his neck.

You lift it off him, kiss the back of his palm and then fit his fingers to your forehead, the intimacy of the deepened connection buzzing through you. He grunts softly at the renewed flood of memories and you join him.

Your search for a home had resolved, soon enough. 'Professor Xavier' became the easiest words to roll off your tongue, the sound of your name like a poem from his.

There were things there you didn't want to think about just yet. The little jumps in your heart beat when he came too close, the goosebumps his touches left in their wake.

The nights you lay awake sleepless because an inexplicable ache wouldn't let you rest.

You feel Charles move in his seat under you, still unwilling to detach from your mind. But his own thoughts are starting to bleed into yours.

You feel the stroke of his thumb on your cheek and your eyes snap open in shock, in concern. But Charles is still deep in his reverie, linked to you with his fingers, breaths now even, serene.

You close your eyes again, and the feeling of skin on skin heightens. It's his memory, you realize in a second. It's his muddled mind expressing itself the only way it can.

You feel yourself smile in the memory, taking the hand he offered in promise to stay by his side always. You feel the contact of your skin to his, his own mind running away from the opportunity to overkill the situation.

You feel the tingle in his palm when your handshake breaks.

You feel the reverence in his eyes as he looks at you one last time. Then he turns back to the class and the memory goes blank.

You withdraw from the darkness and this time Charles is looking back at you. "I'll call Hank.", you mumble before you might get a chance to see him afflicted again. You'd rather throw yourself off a cliff, really.

But this time his fingers anchor you to his lap.

"Don't leave." His voice is certain. Calm. A nervous edge that rings true given the thoughts you'd exchanged possession of. "Stay."

You sit back down where you were. Your hands are on his shoulder to leverage you off your seat, and you keep them there. Your thumb goes out to stroke his cheek tentatively, wishing that you could siphon the ache in his being. Take it away from him.

"Thank you.", he sighs, pulling you against himself, burying his face in your neck. He inhales against your skin, a soft groan on his lips as the tension slowly, painfully slowly leaves his body.

His shoulders sag against the chair, and you hide yourself in the strands of hair at his neck. He smells of soap and tears and something uniquely Charles, a smell that flows through your body like sweet honey.

You run a hand through his hair, cooing softly in his ear. You can feel him smile against your skin, hugging you tighter, and you let him.

You're settling into the calm, the changed frequencies in the air around you, his mind restraining itself from yours and revelling in the knowledge that you would let him in. You just did.

"Charles!", the door slams open with a crash and a bang, showing in the genius with the preferred solution to the ailment at hand. The serum rests golden in Hank's hand, it's conveyor doubled over on himself, out of breath.

He shoves the vial at you, broken sentences leaving his mouth as an explanation. "There wasn't enough- I ran around- the lab... and yeah, here it is. Yeah." You raise a brow at the offered medication, belated reminders flooding through you as you took it.

This was really what Charles needed after all. Not a temporary fix. Not a look in your head.

"That's alright, Hank. I won't be needing that anymore.", Charles interjects. His following breath makes his body shudder almost as if it were rejecting his idea of abstinence.

But he goes on.

"I think I'm fine just now.", he finishes. You look back at him, unable to contain the smile on your lips. His returning smile is strained, tight, but it does light his eyes up again, the way it used to. The way it was.

"Really?" The disbelief is evident in Hank's tone, his eyes flitting forward and back between the injector and the intended recipient. "That's really great." His smile is genuine too and it sets you at ease. Charles really was among people who loved him, whether he knew it or not.

"Welcome back. Professor.", Hank nods before he leaves the room, a tear dropping down Charles's cheek at the title. You lean forward to press a kiss to his warm forehead. He looks back at you this time, himself again, almost himself.

For now, almost was more than enough.

#charles xavier #young charles xavier #james mcavoy #charles xavier × reader #james mcavoy × reader #× reader #charles xavier fluff #james mcavoy fluff #charles xavier smut #james mcavoy smut #charles xavier headcanons #x men #x-men #xmcu #xmdofp #dofp!charles #mcu #marvel #marvel imagine

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