#not to say it's because you had a baby but LOL

[thepicklednarwhal]

Just to add my 2 cents to this, giving birth was awful but for completely different reasons. I spent my entire life TERRIFIED of it to the point i said i didn't want kids. Now, as a mother of 1, the worst things about pregnancy were having to keep up with going to the doctors visits, which hey i got to see and hear my baby, but i hated going and being perceived. My feet swelled the last month of her being in my stomach and i eventually could not sit comfortable because i had a 21 inch baby inside of me who kept their feet in my ribs, no matter how much i tried to move her lol when i was in the hospital getting ready to push her out, i was dehydrated and hungry and they literally do not let you eat and your "drink" is ice. I went into labor with her friday morning at 5am, pushed her out at 3am saturday morning and it was awful because the nurse was not soft when inserting the catheter and checking dilation, she also broke my water by being rough. They decided to get a paycheck off of us and tried to say we were covid positive, which we werent, so none of our family could come support us or see my daughter until after we were discharged. They gave me pain medication that had me out of it and throwing up for hours so i couldnt even argue with them about the covid thing, and yes you can tear down there if you dont prep the area beforehand (which you totally can by massaging!), my doctor had to cut mine so i wouldnt tear and my husband said it sounded like paper being ripped lol also the shower after you've pushed out a human is the most satisfying shower you will ever have in your entire life, and your empty belly feels very strange. Pregnancy also ruins your teeth, your nip nops stay itchy for months, if not years if untreated and yes mom bladder is a thing. You do also bleed, i was in diapers with my daughter for a month. Pregnancy and child birth are definitely an experience and can be traumatizing on you and your body. It takes months to fully heal, but it's not an awful healing process. Also, final tidbit, contractions hurt like hell and are honestly the worst part. Pushing her out felt like i needed to lay a giant egg or take the biggest you know what of my entire life and all i felt were her legs coming out of me lol

giving birth sucks tbh. not only do you and the baby you’re birthing almost die, usually you shit yourself and often you tear your taint. then you have to push an organ out of your body (placenta) and if even a little of that remains in your body, you can hemorrhage to death or develop an infection that essentially rots your body from the inside out. even if you had a relatively “easy birth”, you bleed for weeks on end. even after that stops, your body and brain is changed for the rest of your life, the pregnancy leeched minerals from your bones, that can cause osteoporosis later. minor urinary incontinence is not uncommon, brain scans of people who gave birth show permanent changes in their brain, you’re never quite the same.

I say all of this not to say giving birth is disgusting but it is a harrowing and visceral experience. society downplays how fucking awful it is and makes it out to be a ~magical~ experience but it isn’t a magical transformative experience for everyone. it can be an extremely traumatic experience for someone who wanted to carry a pregnancy to term, much more so for someone who did not want to be pregnant in the first place or someone who knows their baby won’t survive the birth. anyway, abortion is a right. pregnancy and birth aren’t just inconvenient, it’s fucking awful.

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 12)

summary: without another word from jack, you and hugh continue your relationship without any issue or distraction. filming comes close to an end and there's one scene that hugh needs your assistance with. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: smut (18+, mdni), lots of oil (duh, someone's gotta lube hugh up for that end scene), dirty talk, teasing, sex in hugh's trailer, oral - f & m receiving, unprotected p in v, swallowing, missionary, hugh covers your mouth (to keep you quiet), implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), no use of y/n. word count: 3.6k a/n: ok, this is complete filth lol. i had to write something about this scene because when hugh said that there were people whose sole job was to lube him up??? well, let's just say my mind went places lol. hope y'all enjoy! (needed some good fluff / smut before we get back into the angst hehe) as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part.

Filming continues and you’re grateful that Jack hasn’t tried to reach out to you nor does he try to look for you either. Knowing that he got the hint that you no longer are giving him control of your life, it gives you relief. You feel like you can finally breathe again, can finally move forward with your life, with Hugh. 

Without worrying about Jack coming back, you’re able to get back to enjoying your day-to-day responsibilities of continuing to take photographs on set of the movie. Every day, you wake up feeling immensely grateful for Hugh, Ryan, and Shawn for giving you this opportunity. While you normally take photographs of couples who have recently gotten engaged and have occasionally worked a small wedding, being an on-set photographer and capturing behind the scenes content is so much more enjoyable. It gives you a glimpse of how movies are made, shows you the passion and dedication of each cast and crew member. 

But Hugh… you had always been a fan of his work and being able to see him in his element left you speechless every time. The way he’s able to switch into character so easily and become Logan Howlett - a character that you’ve always loved. 

Throughout filming, you’re just in awe of everyone on set and to be able to see the movie unfold right before your eyes is an experience that you’re sure will only happen once in a lifetime. 

And as the end of filming fast approaches, you embrace every second of every day you’re on set. You find that you fall more in love with Hugh, watching him interact with every single person and making sure that they feel seen and heard - he truly is perfect, and a really good man, and you have to wonder what you did to deserve him. 

Hugh hadn’t brought up Jack in months since the last argument you both had and you’re grateful. You never wanted Jack to ever be the reason to get in between you and Hugh. While you feel partially responsible, you have come to realize that it was bound to happen eventually. It was naive to think that Hugh wouldn’t have reacted the way he did. 

“So,” Hugh says, pulling you from your thoughts as you both remain lying in bed, limbs entangled after yet another intimate session of lovemaking. 

“Hm?” You ask, turning to look over at him as your fingertips run across his bare chest. 

“How are we going to go back to New York and not be with each other every night and morning?”

You arch a brow in his direction. You know what he’s implying and he’s just staring at you with a small smile. A hopeful smile. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad to have my own space after–,” you tease, trying to keep a straight face. 

Hugh narrows his eyes and moves to hover above you, hands grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your heads. You’re both still naked and he makes sure to press his hips into you. You can feel him getting harder and harder by the second. 

“Wanna say that again, baby?” 

“How are you getting hard again?” You ask, lifting your hips to roll against his. 

“You make it easy,” he winks. “Now, don’t go and change the subject.” 

“Well, that’s really difficult when you’re literally distracting me!” 

Hugh smirks, his grip around your wrist tightening as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. “You ain’t gonna miss me?” He whispers, moving his hips as his tip brush against you. “Not gonna miss sleeping next to me and waking up next to me, baby?” 

“Hugh…” your eyes flutter and your legs wrap around his hips, locking your ankles at his lower back. “I will… I will miss you. I was just teasing and–”

Hugh grins and slides into you in one thrust, growling as your walls surround him. “That’s what I thought.” 

—

Later that week, you’re staring up at Hugh who’s grinning down at you. You’re in his trailer and he’s already in his Wolverine suit - albeit a little dirtier than when he first put it on and his arms now in full display. 

“You’re telling me that I will need to oil you up?” You ask, eyes wide. “For what? Why? Oh my god, I’m gonna– How will I do that?!” 

“Well, you put oil on your hands and–”

“Okay, ha ha.” You roll your eyes playfully, feeling his hands move to your hips. “Hugh…” 

“What? You want someone else to oil me up? That it? First you say you won’t miss me when we go back home, that you want your space, and now you don’t wanna touch me?” He teases with a smirk. “What’s next, baby?” 

“Oh stop, you’re being dramatic.” You laugh quietly, looking into his eyes. 

“So, you’ll oil me up?” He grins. 

“If I must,” you tease. “But you owe me.” 

“Oh, baby, just you wait.” He winks. 

“What does the scene even consist of where I have to put oil on you?” 

“You’ll see.” 

“Not even a hint?” 

Hugh shakes his head and leans down to peck your lips lightly. “Nope. I will say, though,” he whispers, moving his lips along your jawline to your ear. “I’m gonna try my very best not to get excited when your hands are all over me.”  

“Oh my god, you’re going to be shirtless, aren’t you?” 

His lips grow into a wide grin as he gently nips along the side of your neck, hands gripping your hips. “Yeah, baby.” 

You look at him from top to bottom, biting down on your lower lip as your gaze darkens at the thought. You clear your throat and look back into his eyes, slowly shaking your head. “Yeah, you owe me because I don’t know how I’m going to oil you up without wanting to–”

“Oh, I know,” Hugh chuckles, interrupting you. “Good thing it’s the last scene to shoot before we call it a day.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that after that scene, you’re going to take me back to the hotel and…” you wiggle your brows together. “You know.”

Hugh smirks, hands slowly moving from your hips to wrap around your waist, dipping low to rest on your backside. “I don’t know,” he lies. “Why don’t you tell me what I’ll be doing when we get back to the hotel room?” 

“You’re gonna let me have my way with you,” you grin, nodding excitedly. 

“Oh, I’m gonna let you, will I?” 

“Yes.” you answer, matter-of-factly. 

“Love the confidence, baby,” Hugh grins as he leans down to peck your lips lightly. “Gotta get back on set. I’ll see you later.” 

“You’re such a tease.” 

“Am I?” 

“Yes, Hugh,” you answer, pulling back and looking up at him with a small pout on your lips.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he winks. “You know I will.”

“You better.”

“I promise,” Hugh says. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you smile. 

—

Throughout the rest of the day, you find yourself distracted with the thought of having to oil Hugh up for the last scene of the day. While you’re still in awe of the acting from both Ryan and Hugh, you can’t help but your eyes deviate to Hugh’s arms as he says his lines. 

And even as that scene approaches, Shawn is the first one to walk up to you, a teasing grin on his lips. “So, you’re okay with oiling Hugh up for this last scene?” 

“I think it’d be weird if I wasn’t,” you tease, biting the inside of your cheek in anticipation. 

“That’s true,” he chuckles. “Ryan’s been teasing him all day about it,” Shawn points out. 

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” you smile. “How much oil will I have to put on him, by the way?” 

“Um,” Shawn grins. “Quite a lot and depending on how many takes we’ll need to get the right one…”

“Okay, so we might need more than one bottle.”

“Oh, we have plenty.” 

“And this scene…” you begin, playing with your camera strap. 

“It’s a good one,” Shawn finishes for you. 

“I mean, it wouldn’t be Wolverine if there wasn’t at least one shot of him without a shirt, right?” 

Shawn laughs quietly. “That’s right… Speaking of the devil,” he nods his head over your shoulder and you turn slightly to see Hugh without his shirt, simply dressed in only the yellow and blue pants with the matching boots and cowl. 

You clear your throat at the sight of him, his muscles clearly defined as you bite your lower lip. Your eyes linger on his chest and abdomen, moving along his strong arms and shoulders. Ryan’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you turn your gaze on the other man, who’s dressed in his entire Deadpool gear.

“You might want to pick up your jaw off the floor,” Ryan chuckles. 

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, gently smacking his chest. “I see this every day, it’s nothing new to me,” you lie.

Hugh places his hands on his hips, staring at you with a slight tilt to his head and a small smirk on his lips. He can see your eyes flitting back to him, can see the way you're gently gnawing at your lower lip and he knows exactly what kind of look you’re giving him. 

“I know,” Ryan sighs dramatically. “Lucky you.” 

“Got the oil for you,” Hugh says, handing it to you and breaking you out of your thoughts. You take it from him slowly, fingers brushing against his. 

“Right. So, we’re doing this now.” you say, gripping the bottle of oil tightly in your grasp. 

Shawn nods and then looks over at you. “Don’t put too much,” he advises. “Just enough to make his skin glisten, like he’s sweating.” 

“Right, right,” you nod, clearing your throat. “Not too much, but just enough.”

Ryan and Shawn quietly chuckle to themselves before giving the both of you some privacy. You look up at Hugh and bite your lower lip, eyes lingering on his lips as it moves down the side of his neck, to his chest and down his abdomen and back up. 

“You nervous, baby?” Hugh whispers. 

“N– No,” you stammer. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

“I don’t even think that’s possible,” he chuckles. “I’m ready for you, love.” 

You nod slowly and then open the bottle of oil, squeezing just enough onto your palm. You set the bottle aside and rub your hands together to evenly distribute the oil before you reach out to place your hands on his shoulders, slowly moving them up and down before you move to his chest. 

Hugh smirks, flexing his chest for you and he lets out a quiet chuckle when he hears you quietly gasp. “Love feeling your hands on me, baby,” he whispers. 

“Stop distracting me,” you tease, pouring just a bit more oil onto your hands before you reach out to spread it along his chest down to his abdomen, feeling each ridge and muscle of his abs. Your hands move dangerously closer to the waistband of his pants, feeling Hugh’s hand immediately dart out to rest on your hip. 

“Careful, baby.”

“Just making sure I got everything.” Slowly, you pull away and look at him, his upper half glistening with the oil you just applied. “I think– I think you’re ready to go.”

Hugh smiles and leans down to peck your lips lightly. “Thank you, baby.”

“I miss seeing your eyes,” you point out, motioning towards the cowl that’s placed atop of his head. “But I can’t lie… this is just as good a view.” 

Hugh opens his mouth to say something, but hears his name being called by Ryan and Shawn. “Duty calls.”

“Try and get this in one take so you can take me back to the hotel.”

Hugh smirks. “Impatient, aren’t you?” 

“Do you see yourself? I’d jump you right here if I could.” 

“Naughty girl,” he whispers lowly. 

“Hugh!” Ryan calls out. “Come on, buddy. I’m sure she will oil you up soon enough.” 

“Go,” you say quietly. 

Hugh nods and then turns on his heel to take his place on set. 

—

It takes more than one take to complete the scene. After about two and a half bottles of oil and intense sexual tension radiating off you and Hugh, Shawn finally calls cut. Hugh walks over to you and takes the towel from your hands to wipe off the immense amount of oil that’s dripping from him, but he can’t help but watch your eyes ogle him. It always made him feel so special and borderline shy when your eyes linger on him, especially with the way you’re staring at him now. 

“Just gotta head back to the trailer and change,” Hugh says. “Then we can go back to the hotel.”

Anticipation courses through your veins as you keep a tight hold on Hugh’s hand, fingers laced together as you walk alongside him. Once at his trailer, Hugh shuts the door and locks it behind him. 

Before you can even ask what he’s doing, Hugh turns to face you and removes the cowl to set it aside. His gaze darkens at the sight of you and in just a few strides in your direction, he’s wrapping his strong arms around your waist and lifting you off your feet. 

Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and your arms move around his shoulders. Letting out a quiet gasp, Hugh gently rests you on your back against the couch, kneeling on the floor between your legs.

“Hugh, what are you–”

“Been wanting you all day,” he says, his large hands moving to your jeans and undoing the button and zipper of it all too quickly. “Can’t wait anymore.”

“Baby–”

“Shh,” Hugh whispers, tugging your jeans down your legs and tossing the fabric over his shoulder. He looks up at you and then moves his hands to the waistband of your black lace panties, slowly tugging them down your legs as well. Once your lower half is completely exposed for him, Hugh holds your legs apart and growls at the sight of your slickened sex. He leans in and brushes the bridge of his nose against you, hands gripping your legs tightly. “Goddamn, baby. You’re already so wet for me.”

“It was because of all that oil,” you whimper, moving your hands to rest in his hair. “Please…”

“And here I thought you were gonna have your way with me,” he grins, pulling back just enough to brush the pad of his thumb against your bundle of nerves. Hugh looks up at you, watches you tilt your head back and your eyes fall shut at the lightest of touches.

“Oh, I will,” you groan. “But first, how about you do what you need to do and–”

“So demanding lately,” he grins, leaning in to lick a stripe along your soaking heat. A loud moan escapes your lips and Hugh smiles, pulling away. “Baby, you gotta stay quiet for me. There are still people on set and we can’t have them hearing you, hearing what I’m doing to you.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, nodding and moving your hands from his hair to cover your mouth instead. “I’ll try my best,” you mumble.

“Atta girl,” he praises and leans back in to lap at your juices, your wetness slowly beginning to trickle down his chest. Hugh grips your hips, holding you firmly against the couch as he moves his lips to your clit, flicking his tongue against it as he brings one hand between your legs. Without hesitation, he slides in two fingers as he sucks at your clit, beginning to pump his two digits in and out of your depths. 

The sounds of your wetness squelches with each thrust of his fingers and he stares up at you to see how hard you’re trying to stay quiet. He smirks against you and slowly adds a third finger, a loud whimper escaping your lips at the intrusion. 

Hugh turns his head and places soft kisses on the inside of your thigh as he leans back, continuing to move his fingers in and out of your depths as he leans over you. With his free hand, he gently removes your own from your mouth and leans in to brush his lips against yours. 

“Feel good, baby?” he whispers, keeping his fingers deep within your depths as he begins to curl them inside of you. “Oh yeah, I can feel you trembling…”

You stare up at him, biting your lower lip as you try to hold back your moans. “Hugh, baby…” 

“Doing so good for me, staying so quiet,” he grins, his fingers curling inwards as your walls begin to tremble and he knows you’re close. Knows that you’re about to reach a heightened pleasure that he leans in and presses his lips against yours in hopes to quiet your moans. 

You reach down and grip his wrist, fingertips digging into his skin as you arch your back. You moan against his lips, feeling his tongue slide past your own and the sensations are just too much, too overwhelming. Hugh pumps his fingers in and out of you to help you ride out your climax, slowly pulling away to hold up his fingers in your direction.

“Look how wet you are for me,” he grins. 

You look up at him, biting your lower lip as you watch him suck on his fingers, cleaning your slick free from his digits. “Hugh…”

“So fucking good,” he winks. 

You’re breathing heavily, but you reach down for his pants and tug on it, seeing the length of his manhood pressing against the yellow fabric. “Take these off.”

Hugh smirks. “Yes, ma’am.” He makes quick work to remove his boots and his pants, kicking them off to the side carelessly. He looks down at himself, his manhood at attention and he settles himself once more between your legs. He holds onto the base of his length and runs his tip across your sex, growling lowly. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” he groans. 

“Please,” you whimper. 

“Being such a good girl, baby,” Hugh smirks, slowly sliding into you in one thrust. He groans at your wetness, your warmth walls surrounding every inch of him. He leans down and rests his forehead against yours, pulling his hips back before he slides back in. 

“Hugh, I don’t think…” you moan, moving your hands to his shoulders. “I can’t– I can’t stay quiet and–”

“Shh,” he whispers, moving his large hand over your mouth as he delivers a sharp thrust. “Yeah, you can, baby.” 

You let out a loud moan, muffled by his hand as you stare up at him. Hugh pulls out to his tip and slides back into you in one thrust, your legs moving to wrap around his waist. 

Hugh rests his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he keeps his hand over your mouth. Your moans and whimpers are muffled by his large hand and with each thrust, he can see the way your eyes flutter. Hugh’s thrusts continue at a rhythmic pace, your walls sliding along each inch and vein of his manhood. You’re so wet, so tight and warm and Hugh knows he can’t keep this up any longer. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna–” Hugh’s hips begin to stutter, but you reach down and push him away from you, causing a loud groan to escape his lips. He’s quick to grasp his manhood to slide back into you, but you shake your head and sit up on the couch, urging him to stand up. “What?”

“I want you to come in my mouth,” you tell him, biting your lower lip. “That’s one way you can keep me quiet.”

Hugh growls and nods, standing up like you asked. He brings a hand down to your cheek, brushing his thumb across your soft skin and gently tucking a fallen strand behind your ear. “Well?” 

“Now, who’s impatient, hm?” you grin, reaching up to wrap your hand around his slick coated base as your lips move to his tip. Wrapping your lips around him, you begin to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks as your hand strokes the rest of him. You keep your eyes focused on him, watching as he tilts his head back and a hand moves to tangle his fingers into your hair. 

“Oh, baby,” he groans, the grip in your tightening as you continue to bob your head in time with your strokes. Hugh can feel the tightness build once again in the pit of his stomach. He looks down at you and groans at the sight, your eyes staring up at him with his cock in his mouth. 

God, if he could spend the rest of his days like this, Hugh would die a happy man. 

“I’m close, I’m gonna–” Hugh’s voice cuts off as you take him even deeper into your mouth and he can feel the tip of his length hit the back of your throat. He groans loudly and gently brushes your hand away from him as he takes a hold of his base. He strokes himself once, twice, three times before spurts of his come release into your mouth. 

You feel his warm spend fill your mouth, a mixture of salty and sweet taste. You swallow it eagerly, slowly bobbing your head as you feel him shudder against you, his hand in your release loosening its grip. When he pulls away, you smile up at him and gently place a soft and light kiss on his tip. 

“Did you really just–”

“Swallow?” you finish for him and nod. “Yup… Is that okay?” 

“Is that okay?” Hugh repeats. “Baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1

@wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf

@needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom

@sue8724 - @squishyfruitloop - @sylviavf - @emotrash1 - @dissentientss

@sir-thisisadndserver - @absolutepie - @millajay - @itsallyscorner - @haytchee

@wolverigrl - @its-in-the-woods - @d3ad2you - @definitely-not-chill - @khxna

@jules-and-gemss

[lomlhwa]

scandal (l.c)

pairing: idol!reader x idol!chan

preview: you got into a dating scandal with another idol and chan is not happy. it should've been him, he's your actual boyfriend after all.

tags/warnings: fem reader, mentions of beomgyu and other idols, possessive chan, kisses galore, pet names (pretty, baby, my love, angel), oral (fem.receiving), holding hands while fucking, so much praise, monster cock chan, marking, did i say possessive?, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.8k

song rec for this fic: obsession by exo

a/n: i tried making fake tweets + texts for this how did i do? also i just threw in random female idols to make a fake group lol

you sigh, putting your phone down and rubbing your temples. dating as an idol is so tiring and sometimes you honestly forget why you even try. but you love your boyfriend so much. beomgyu is your good friend and sometimes you fail to remember to be sneaky when hanging out. even small things like going out to eat together makes fans assume you’re madly in love. this isn’t the first time you’ve been roped into media with beomgyu and you’re certain it won’t be the last. 

with your swift rise to fame, you’ve had many dating scandals in your time. what pisses chan off the most is the fact that it’s never been him that you’ve had a scandal with. you’ve gone out on many public dates before and no one has ever picked up on the fact that you’re together. he even kissed you in the view of a sasaeng one time and they didn’t notice. he wonders if it’s intentional on the media’s part or if they’re seriously just that oblivious. 

you run your hand through your hair, trying to fathom why the general public knowing about your relationship is so important to him. everyone within the industry knows so why does everyone else have to? relationships can ruin idol reputations and he doesn’t seem to care. maybe it’s because you’re both already so big that he’s not worried? or he’s hoping your fans are just accepting enough to be okay with it? 

your members come wandering into the living room and you’re quick to compose yourself. you don’t want them to know you’re having relationship problems again. “you okay, y/n?” minji asks you, concern spreading on her face. you nod and smile to the best of your abilities. “hmm, i don’t believe you but we have schedules so i’m not gonna push,” karina shakes her head before gesturing for you to follow the group out the door. you gather your things and do your best not to think about anything but the late night ahead of you. 

___________________________________________

after a late night at dance practice you finally get the time to check your phone. you know chan had a fansign today so you decide to check on some of his fan accounts. you smile as you’re met with cute photos of him posing with gifts from fans. you find lots of updates on things he said as well. his current favorite movies, foods, tv shows and… songs. of course he mentions you. it’s cute that he listens to your music and likes to promote you to fans. 

you jump as you realize sana is perched over your shoulder, reading your text messages. “he’s gonna get in trouble when people realize he keeps talking about you,” she comments, clicking her tongue. you sigh dramatically, slouching your shoulders. “that’s what he wants.” suddenly all your members are gathered around you, confused as to what you’re talking about. “i got into another scandal with beomgyu and chan is jealous that it’s not him. so he’s putting in extra effort to try and get people to assume things.” your members share a weird look between them before turning back to you. “i think you should go on the most public date ever and make sure everyone knows you’re with lee chan of seventeen,” lily smiles brightly at you. this comment shocks you a little but you agree. 

“will you guys help me set up a giant celebration at the restaurant under our dorm?” you ask and they all agree excitedly. you all rush to get back to your dorm, eager to plan an extravagant dinner for you and your boyfriend. you talk to the owners of the restaurant and they agree to vacate the restaurant for you. they even promise to make food on the house. your girls help you pick the perfect outfit, hair and makeup for the event. they even “accidentally” tell a well known media outlet that you have plans for tomorrow and they should be there. 

___________________________________________

you sit in eager anticipation waiting for your boyfriend to show up. you can see a photographer out of the corner of your eye, waiting for something to happen. you hear the backdoor open and chan walks in, confidence filling his every step. your eyes fall on the suit he chose for tonight. he left his blazer undone, showing off that the buttons resting on his chest were begging to burst open. 

“hello, my love,” he says as he pecks your cheek before sitting down across from you. “what’s the occasion for such a fancy dinner?” his face changes to panic for a moment before he speaks again; “did i miss our anniversary? your birthday?” you shake your head and chuckle just as a waitress comes scurrying out of the kitchen with pre prepared food. you thank her and shoot her a quick wink before turning back to your lover. chan looks at you with an unreadable expression, but you hope it’s positive.

the two of you eat your food happily, the atmosphere feeling very comfortable. your share anecdotes from your lives as idols, laughing that the ridiculousness of your respective companies. before long, your meal is coming to an end. chan gives you a look you know all too well and you’re quick to scurry away, up the stairs and to your dorm. your boyfriend follows swiftly behind you after thanking all the staff. 

you thank your members mentally as you enter your normally occupied dorm. as soon as the door is closed, chan’s hands are on you. he drags you by your hips, crashing you against him. he kisses you with such aggression that you would think he was trying to eat you. your tongues tangle like snakes, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth. “fuck, baby. you’re so sexy, you know that?” he connects his lips to your jawline, sucking on your skin gently. he sucks dark red marks on your collar bones, taking a moment to lean back and admire his work. 

“jump,” he mutters as he hooks his hands under your thighs. you hop and he catches you before quickly scurrying towards your room. he lays you down on your bed, pressing your legs wide open. he groans as he realizes you aren’t wearing any panties. you bite your lip as he admires you. “stop fucking me with your eyes and fuck me for real,” you demand. chan drops to his knees in front of you, desperation filling his eyes. you lift yourself onto your elbows so you can see him better. he kisses his way up your thighs before meeting his lips with your drenched core. 

his skilled tongue darts out to circle your clit, small whines escaping from your throat. he grips your thighs, holding you exactly where he wants you. he slurps and drinks you up as you twitch and squirm under him. he focuses his attention on your sensitive clit, rubbing his tongue back and forth over it. “channie, please please ple-ah,” he silences you with a harsh smack to your inner thigh. “let me enjoy your cunt. god, i love that you’re mine,” he presses kisses against your slit, licking a fat stripe up it to follow. “fucking mine.”

he grazes his teeth over your clit, drinking in the way you squeak and raise your hips towards his mouth. your hands fly to his hair and drag his mouth back to you. he chuckles before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it before letting it go with a small ‘pop.’ you grind your core against his face, his nose brushing your clit as you get more and more desperate for release. “you have the most perfect pussy, baby. could eat you forever.”

a low moan slips from his lips as he watches you clench around nothing at his words. he places one final kiss to your core before rising off his knees. “you’re so tasty, angel. but i think i might explode if i don’t get inside you.” he reaches down to undo his pants and let them pool around his ankles. he aligns himself with your desperate hole before pressing in gently. “my pretty, pretty girl.” he grabs your hands and intertwines all ten of your fingers with his. a gesture like this always felt so romantic to you. 

he arms flex in reaction as you clench around him in an eager effort to get him to move. he draws his hips back slowly before returning himself to the hilt. your eyes cross and your back arches off the bed as he repeats this ritual over and over before he can’t take the slow pace anymore. he tightens his grip on your hands as he speeds up, the sounds of skin slapping filling the room. he stares between the two of you, watching as he disappears and reappears between your legs.”fuck, baby. you’re all mine. i don’t care what the media says. i’m the one fucking you. not beomgyu, me.” you nod your head, panting like a dog in the summer heat. “say it. who does this pussy belong to?” he thrusts into you faster, as if to make it harder for you to answer. “y-you, chan. fuck, it’s all yours.”

he lets go of your hands and opts to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your chest. he ruts into you with such vigor you think you might snap in half. he lifts you partially off the bed so you’re kind of sitting in his lap. your grind down on him, desperate for more. “channie… god, need it so bad,” you plead, your orgasm threatening to rip its way out of you. he runs his tongue between the valley of your breasts before pulling back to look at your face.

“keep eye contact with me while you finish. let me see how fucking good i make you feel.” you nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as he connects the pad of his thumb to your clit. you let out a deep sigh and fight your hardest not to throw your head back. the way chan looks at you through his sweaty bangs has you seeing stars. “cumming. oh my god i’m cumming,” you cry out as your whole body spasms. “yeah, that’s it baby. squeeze my cock like that.” your arms give out and you fall back onto the bed, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turn white. 

your lover’s orgasm is quick to follow, ropes of cum painting your walls white. he moans and whines out your name like a hymn, gripping your waist so hard you might bruise. you twitch as he rides out the last of his high before stilling completely. he pulls out of you slowly before laying next to you. he pulls you tightly against him, panting slightly as he settles. “i promise i don’t care what the media says. i love you."

___________________________________________

© lomlhwa 2024

[archangeldyke-all]

hii bestie i loveee ur writing <33 the arcane finale is literally driving me insane holy shit and i just keep thinking about how all the old bitches on the council are probably bigoted assholes to our beloved sevika at first (hopefully) and was wondering if you’d consider writing the reader comforting her after these council meetings or letting her take out any stress on the reader from these meetings heheh okie bye thanks hope you’re doing amazingly <3

GOD. i've been thinking about it more lately (the euphoria of her making it through the series alive is wearing off too) and i just. really need to hug her. because YES she lived and YES zaun is getting a voice and YES she is the best person for the job, but... she lost EVERYTHING. and now she's gonna have to be treated like shit forever for her city. and of course she's gonna stick it out because that's who she is and she'll do anything for zaun but FUCK. i need to hug her so bad. okay lets write lol.

men and minors dni

it's been a hard year.

you and sevika got your worlds rocked when isha and jinx stumbled in your lives, and then you got your hearts broken when they stumbled back out.

there wasn't even a moment to catch your breath before you had to start rebuilding efforts and negotiations with piltover.

and then sevika was appointed to represent the free nation of zaun in piltover's council as the sister cities figure out how to rebuild and get the undercity on it's feet as it gains independence.

and, in a way, it's everything sevika's ever wanted. she's there to assure that the topsiders treat her city right, she's there to demand everything zaun deserves. she gets to oversee development in the undercity, she gets to open schools and parks and libraries.

but in another way, she's never been so miserable in her life.

the councilor's are all members of the wealthiest families in piltover-- and they do not take kindly to sevika's sudden addition to the council.

shoola's been sevika's one true ally, her biggest advocate and defender in the council room. they're friends, in that the same tentative way sevika was friends with silco, but... maybe a little kinder. a little more lighthearted.

shoola's become a close friend of yours, too. she learned quickly that sevika keeps her cards close to her chest, and she often comes to you for an insight into what your wife is thinking. it's fun to have someone to laugh with over sevika's quirks, and you're endlessly appreciative of the woman's fierce protection of your wife in the council, when you can't be there to defend her.

still, though. shoola isn't always there, and she can't control the whispers sevika overhears.

and it's not like your wife is new to being insulted. but it's one thing to be cursed out by a man you're fighting in the street, and a different thing entirely to overhear posh accents whispering about 'sump rats' and 'undercity trash.'

especially when those same posh accents are the people demanding tax cuts for the wealthy, and budget cuts for the undercity.

so, you've been anticipating this.

this being your wife breaking down in silent sobs, crying so hard she can't make any noise, kneeling before you the moment you gets home to bury her face in your stomach.

but just because this has been a long time coming, doesn't mean it breaks your heart any less.

"oh, sevika." you whisper shakily, kicking your boots off before kneeling down and wrapping your arms around her. she buries her face in your shoulder, her arms circling your waist with desperation. "fuck, baby. i'm right here. let it out." you say.

sevika shakes against you, taking desperate gasps for air between her sobs. "i'm so tired." she stutters out. you start crying at her words, settling down onto your ass to pull her into your lap.

"i know, baby. you've been working your whole fuckin' life." you say, scratching her scalp and rubbing her back as she curls up on top of you.

"and i fucking miss them." she cries.

you let out a choked cry and nod, kissing her forehead as tears stream down your cheeks. "yeah." you choke out. "me too."

there's nothing else to say. everything else sevika already knows. you love her. you've got her. jinx and isha are together now, and zaun is free. none of it makes it any better, though.

so you just hold her.

in a while, you'll both run out of tears and get sore from your spots on the floor. you'll dry both of your tears, kiss sevika soundly, and comb her hair from her face as you whisper her praises. you'll call for food to be delivered, draw a nice bath, and you'll make sevika eat and soak until her eyes droop. and then, you'll take her to bed. in the morning, sevika will go back to the council, despite the fact that everyone in that building looks down on her, because sevika is nothing if not loyal to zaun. and tomorrow evening, you'll be waiting here at home to build back up all her confidence that those rich assholes managed to tear down throughout the day.

but, for now, sevika's still crying.

so, for now, you just hold her.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

[maeedrg]

NEW PIERCINGS ?

Gojo x nipples pierced reader

ᯓ★

Synopsis : in which reader just got her nipples pierced, and wants to make it a surprise to her boyfriend. Well, he really liked it.

Words count : 3k

Warnings : fluff, swearing, smut, reader is fem, nipple play, half public sex, squirting, p in v, pet names, kinda jealous Gojo ?

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I got my nipples pierced this weekend, so I needed to do a fanfic about it.

｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆ ˚⋆｡⋆✧⋆˚｡⋆⋆ ｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆

Ouch. It’s so damn sensitive. Why is it so cold outside, anyways ? And the damn wind that goes through your clothes and hardens your nipples really wasn’t what you needed right now. Barely some minutes ago, you went to your favorite piercing shop, and got your breast pierced. On both sides. The fresh jewel on your flesh that gets colder because of the wind, reminds you how sensitive the area was for now. You sigh, sucking up a breath and deciding to look at your phone. You didn’t answer the texts of your boyfriend, after all. But you had a good reason. These new piercings were a surprise ! 

From ‘ Kakashi 2.0 : 

“I just ate 11 mochis, my belly hurts”

“nevermind I have room for more lol”

seen

“uh why aren’t you answering your beautiful boyfriend…. the fuck”

“alright girl in what position you guys are”

“HEY ARE YOU DEAD ?!!!!”

“The way I’m going to hollow purple this bitch you are with if you don’t answer right now”

seen

Oh oh. You can’t stop yourself from having a laugh escaping your lips. Both from silliness at Satoru’s text, and from nervousness. Yeah, maybe you did ignore him for half of the day… But hey, your excuses are valid ! And you didn’t think he would notice, since today he had a busy schedule, normally. As you walk back home, a bit like a truck, to avoid your clothes from brushing too often your nipples and the pain that comes with it, you decide to text back your boyfriend. The moment you start to type, suddenly two long arms wrap around your stomach and smash you against the chest of someone. You open wider your eyes, startled, but quickly relax when you recognize this familiar cologne that you love oh so much.

“Police, got the cheater ! What can you say to defend yourself, baby, uh ? I bet he didn’t even fuck you that well,” exclaims Satoru’s voice in your ear, pouting slightly and when you turn your head you can imagine how his eyebrows frown behind his blindfold.

“You scared me here !” you answer, breathing back normally and keeping your body rigid. Without knowing, the way he was hugging you from behind made the tissue of your clothes tighter. Which means hurting your sensitive breast. You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid hissing of pain.

“You are the one that scared me ! Why didn’t you answer for so long ? Didn’t you say you had nothing to do today, and would stay at home ?” continues your boyfriend, frowning and looking at you up and down. He directly notices how your body is tense. Weird…

“I wasn’t cheating on you, you idiot. But sorry for not answering, I had something to do,” you answer vaguely, taking off his arms from your waist. At first he keeps his iron grip around you, but sighs and loosen his hands when seeing your discomfort.

“Awww, you’re so mean. I still manage to text you when I’m killing curses, so what got you so busy to not be able to do it for a whole afternoon ?” he asks, pouting even more as he slides his hand in the small of your back while walking next to you towards your shared apartment.

You couldn’t tell him that you were occupied with going to the piercing shop (which was a bit far away from home), waiting your turn, then getting pierced, and everything that comes with it until… now. Yeah, it took longer than you thought. 

“Well, I'll tell you later,” you simply answer. Satoru opens his mouth and closes it back, frowning more and tightening his fingers on your hip. You open the door of the building at the same time, and he whines.

“What do you mean ? Is it a new way to torture me by testing my patience ?”

“Poor baby. The Great Gojo Satoru gets bullied by his girlfriend,” you roll your eyes saying that, grabbing his arm to pull him towards you and kiss his cheek. He immediately grins back at the contact of your lips against his cold skin.

“You gotta tell me quickly, then. If you don’t want to face the wrath of The Strongest…” he jokes, before taking your face and chastly kissing your lips mischievously. 

“I’m shaking from fear…” you tease back against his mouth.

A bit later, and after some silly back and forth, you force your boyfriend to wait in the bedroom while you go to the bathroom. Indeed, before showing him your surprise, you needed first to clean it from the small amount of dried blood. Even if Satoru was used to seeing gruesome things everyday, you insisted in your mind that you didn’t want it to be his first impression of your new decorated nipples. So you carefully wash them, with delicacy and care. You hiss slightly, trying to not move too much the jewel, the sensitivity of your skin making it a hard task. Once you are done, you put back your shirt on top and exit the washroom. 

At the sound of the door opening and closing, Satoru perks up and straightens back his seat on the bed. He looks at you, legs sprayed on manspread as he puts down his phone to the side.

“Took you long enough,” he complains.

“Don’t pout. Now are you ready to know the reason why your amazing girlfriend ignored you all afternoon ?” you ask teasingly, tilting your head to the side.

The white haired man quickly nods, eager to know. He even was bouncing his leg up and down, clearly impatient to finally have his answer. You smile, wider, and lift your shirt, exposing to your boyfriend your pierced nipples. Satoru pauses, and then slowly lifts his blindfold to reveal his blue eyes. The look on his face was something you needed to remember. You could feel his Six Eyes staring right back at your chest. 

“No way….” he whispers, cheeks slightly turning red and a cheeky grin forming on his lips as his pupils swing left and right to look at both.

“Yes way. You like it ?” 

He suddenly brings you closer, making you stand in between his legs as he analyzes your breast. He knew it like the palm of his hand, but he needed to discover it all over again now. He was fascinated, intrigued, biting his lower lip in excitement.

“I fucking love it. That’s so hot ! Why didn’t you tell me ? I would have come with you !” he cheers as he looks up at your face, then back down, then your face, then down. His long fingers help you remove your shirt completely, having free rein to touch your skin and admire your torso.

“I wanted to surprise you, that’s why,” you explain.

“Did it hurt ?” Satoru asks as his left thumb softly caresses the bottom of your breast, while the right one brushes your ribs.

“Yeah. But it was quick, to be honest. So it wasn’t that bad. But it’s very sensitive right now, even the brush of clothes can be uncomfortable or hurtful,” you describe as you recall the feeling of the needle, and how a hassle it was to walk down the street with your shirt and jacket touching them every second. 

“Sensitive, uh ?” he muses, his fingers about to touch your bundle of nerves, but you quickly snap it away. He pouts at your glare.

“Nuh-uh. No touching. Your hands aren’t washed, and it will hurt. Plus, I have to avoid touching the jewel or moving it as much as I can for one month,” you quickly explain, facing the sulking face of your man-child boyfriend. He opens wider his eyes at your words.

“One month ?!”

“One month, yes. My piercer said too that I can’t have any contact with… a mouth on it. For at least one month.”

The moment you say that, you see all colors leaving the already pale skin of Satoru. He couldn’t believe it. One of his favorite activities, which was sucking on your tits when having sex, was taken away from him. No way, no way ! He was doomed, cursed ! At what cost ? He couldn’t deny, it looked incredibly hot. But by seeing them, it made him crave touching them, toying with them, and exploring this new aspect of possible sensitivity on your body. That was like a new game to him ! And damn, he couldn’t even play with it for at least one month. That was hell on earth. Alright, maybe he was being a bit melodramatic right now. But Satoru liked to exaggerate when he couldn’t have what he wanted right on the spot.

“Y/n, you’re killing me here. That’s too looooong !”

“You gotta wait, love. Safety first,” you retort, shaking your head as he sighs theatrically, letting his face be buried in your stomach.

“I promise, when it’s healed enough, I’ll play with your tits so much you’ll cry for me to stop,” he pouts, muttering that, gazing back up at your face. You chuckle, caressing his hair. He really was a menace.

“Hey, don’t make me suffer here. I’m just doing what my piercer told me to do. He was clear about no contact-”, you start to say, before Satoru cuts you in the middle of your sentence, “he ?!”. 

You roll your eyes, trying to not laugh at his over exaggerated facial reaction. “Yes Satoru, he.”

“I can’t believe that you betrayed me like that… First you cheat on me with your piercer, and now I can't suck your tits for one month. What a tragedy ! The downfall of The Strongest…” he exclaims, dramatically falling backwards on the mattress behind him, bringing you to straddle him while he puts his free hand over his forehead as if he just fainted. 

“It’s literally his job ! You really are a drama queen…” you slightly chuckle, flocking his forehead and he whines at the pain. When he was with you, he really reminded you of a husky. Always being loud over every tiny inconvenience, or just any situation, to be honest.

“Well, maybe I can’t suck on the gorgeous boobs of my girlfriend, but I can still eat her out. Right ?” he suddenly states, lifting himself on his elbow and eying you down with his stupid wolfish grin of his. 

“Well, technically yes, but I didn’t shower so-”

“Perfect then !” he interrupts you as he flips you over, gently actually, to be sure to not hurt you, and then in a swift movement takes off your pants and pry open your thighs.

“Satoru, I still didn’t have time to shower !”

“You think I care ?” he answers as if you just said the dumbest thing ever, bringing your leg over his shoulder and kissing the inside of your flesh.

“Satoru…”

“That would be my distraction for one month, deal ?” he asks, eyes meeting yours as he kisses the top of your panties.

Oh, you were in for a ride. Of his face. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

Heavens could be applause, time has come. You finally, finally could go back to your… activities with Satoru, as your piercings were healed enough. Through the weeks of healing, you realized that the myth of having this area pierced could possibly bring a higher sensitivity wasn’t fake. And your boyfriend was adamant on testing that right now. He was eager, way too eager, maybe. Satoru couldn’t wait, to the point that when you gave him the green light this morning by text, he decided that the moment he would finish his daily missions of exorcizing curses, he would do it.

Hell, he was being for real ! You were walking in the corridor of the campus, when a tall figure teleported right in front of you. You lift your head, a bit startled, and sigh when you realize it simply was your boyfriend.

“Satoru ? You already finished your miss- ah !” you get cut off the moment he grabs your legs and swings you over his shoulder, lifting you up and carrying you like that without a care in the world. His hand slaps your butt, staying on it to keep you steady as you now are hanging over him.

“I made it quick,” he simply answered in a tone of voice that meant business. Oh, the tension was high, very high.

He opens the door of an empty classroom, and closes it swiftly behind him, locking it in a soft thud. He puts you down on a table, looming over you.

“Love, it’s a classroom, what if some students enters-”

“Nobody will, I made sure of that,” he answers quickly, taking off his blindfold and looking at you with such hungry eyes that you shiver. Oh, the man was starved. 

He unbuttons your jacket and throws it on a chair, before doing so with your shirt while he smashes his lips against yours, not letting you answer him. There was no time to even talk, his mouth was eager. Why talking, anyways ? When he could instead please you like you both dreamed since the night you came back home with your little… surprise.

 His lips were moving against yours with need, and in no time you felt his cold fingers cup your breast. He presses himself in between your thigh, and at the same time his thumb caresses your hardened nipple, toying finally with the jewel. You open your eyes at the feeling, and let out a strangled moan of surprise. Fuck, it indeed was more sensitive than you remember it being before. After so long, this area was damn touch starved. And God, how good it felt, and that just from a small tiny touch.

He smiles against your lips, and presses his hard crotch against yours. Painfully hard, actually. Satoru bites your lower lip as he pinches your bundle of nerves, his other hand doing the same on the right side. His tongue invades your mouth and you quickly start to feel overwhelmed. He swallows your sweet moans of pleasure and whines of relief at the sensation. It started to feel warm, and you wanted more stimulation. Why was it so exciting ?

He chuckles and trails his lips down your neck, to your collarbone, tongue sliding towards your left tit. Without more useless teasing, his lips are on your nipple, and his tongue swirls around the jewel. You yank your head backwards, biting the inside of your cheek. His eyes are on you the whole time, drinking your cute facial reactions each time his tongue flickers on the top of your nipple, or on the way the jewel slightly moves left and right. He goes to suck on the right one, using his left hand to continue to stimulate both at the same time. 

“Feels good, uh ?”

You nod, not understanding how pleasurable it was. Because fuck, your body was on fire right now. The sensitivity of the area went skyrocket, and you squeeze your thighs around the hips of your lover as he continues to grind against your clothed cunt. He lifts a bit more up your skirt, allowing him more space to stimulate you down there as he eats your tits hungrily like the starved man he is.

“How cute,” he muses, sliding your panties on the side and pulling a bit down his pants to press his boxer against your slit. His voice rumbles against your piercing and makes you giddy. He was sucking on them so much it started to be sore, but you didn’t want it to stop, because you craved it to the bones.

You have no time to ride your pleasure that you feel his cock tapping a few times against your clit before smudging his precum and your wetness together, and then entering in one go inside your pussy. It went as easy as damn butter, you were so fucking soaked. And Satoru couldn’t help but roll down his eyes at the sensation, biting slightly your nipple to tease you and make you squeeze your walls around his dick. Just like the way he loved. Good, very good.

“So fucking tight-” he mutters, kissing back your lips to slide his tongue inside your mouth, using both of his hands to play with your breast now while he pounds quickly, chasing some relief and wanting to drive you faster to the edge. After all, it was risky, and you guys couldn’t fool around too long. He just wanted to make you cum first, to drive you slightly crazy. Tonight he would have all the time of the world to completely take care of you and your tits. Right now it was just… a trial.

“Wait, I’ll-” you babble, moaning louder as he tugs both piercings at the same time, thrusting hard inside your dripping walls. 

“Wait ? Nah,” he chuckles lightly, slamming his hips faster as he yanks your hair to allow him access to your neck, sucking on it and leaving a red mark. Well, that was inappropriate, other people could see it, but who cares. Satoru didn’t give a damn about that, anyways.

He slaps your tits before sucking back on them, gripping your ass to bring you even closer. You clench your pussy around his cock, the feeling overwhelming, his hot and wet mouth stimulating exactly where you wanted him too, his tongue working magic. Both the sensation of the coldness of the jewel, and the warmth of his tongue, was an amazing duality that made your head spin.

The pleasure was so good that you suddenly cum all over him, legs shaking and accidently wetting a bit of his boxer and the bottom of his shirt. You breath heavily, his lips kissing your tit before looking slowly back up at you while you come down your high. He smiles, still inside your cunt, not done yet with you, and straightens back as he bites his lower lip. He then asks : 

“Maybe I should get my nipples pierced too. What do you think, sweetheart ?” 

THE END 

[goldfades]

A light hearted argument over baby names. Like, not a real fight but they can’t agree on anything lol

it starts innocently enough. you’re sitting on the couch, the baby name book open on your lap, and joe’s got his feet propped up on the coffee table, scrolling on his phone. the game is on in the background, but he’s only half-paying attention because you’ve started reading names aloud, and that always grabs his focus.

“okay,” you say, tapping the page with your finger. “what about emma?”

“emma’s nice,” joe says casually, not looking up.

you narrow your eyes. “you hate it.”

“i don’t hate it,” he protests, glancing over at you. “it’s just... i don’t know. kinda basic?”

“basic?” you scoff, closing the book dramatically. “this from the man who suggested naming our child ‘joe jr.’”

“first of all,” he says, sitting up straight now, his phone forgotten, “joe jr. has a ring to it. second of all, it’s not like you’re coming up with groundbreaking ideas either. what about that name you pitched last week? persephone?”

“persephone is beautiful,” you argue, crossing your arms. “it’s Greek! it’s unique!”

“it’s a mouthful,” joe shoots back. “can you imagine a little kid trying to learn how to spell that? they’d be in kindergarten like, ‘P-E-R-S...uh, what?’”

you throw a pillow at him, which he catches easily, smirking. “fine, what’s your brilliant idea, then?”

“okay, hear me out.” he leans forward, all serious now. “what about something strong, like... blaze.”

you blink at him. “blaze? blaze burrow?”

“yeah!” he says, like it’s the best idea he’s ever had. “imagine them on the field one day. ‘and now, the starting quarterback... blaze burrow!’”

you burst out laughing, shaking your head. “oh my god, joe. we’re not naming our baby after a superhero sidekick.”

“fine,” he says, laughing too, but he’s not giving up. “what about something classic? like tommy. or lucy.”

“too common,” you say, flipping the book open again. “what about river? or willow?”

“too hippie,” he counters.

“and blaze isn’t?”

“blaze is cool,” he insists, grinning now. “there’s a difference.”

the argument goes on like this, playful jabs and exaggerated groans as you veto each other’s ideas left and right. by the time the game ends, the baby name book is forgotten on the floor, and you’re both laughing so hard your sides hurt.

“we’re never gonna agree, are we?” you say, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes.

“probably not,” joe admits, reaching over to pull you closer. “but, hey, worst case? we’ll let them pick their own name when they’re old enough. until then, ‘baby burrow’ has a nice ring to it.”

you roll your eyes, but as he kisses your forehead, you can’t help but smile. because, no matter what you name them, you know this kid is going to be so, so loved.

[fanbasetwo]

first time w anton? virgin anton x virgin reader?

IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU 🙂

✦ BABY GIRL, 143 ! ANTON

001. PAIRING , virgin anton × virgin reader

002. SYNOPSIS , anton had been away from you for some months and now when he was back, you showed him all the texts you had seen on his phone. only ending up sealing the deal at the end.

003. GENRE , smut

004. WARNING(S) , kissing, a little dirty talk but anton is just shameless lol, teasing, pussy slapping, little to no prep, boob play, nipple play (slightly), they make up pretty early after fight, hymen breaking, mentions of blood and pain, too much plot if you ask me, lmk if I missed anything.

005. WORD COUNT , 1.8K

MASTERLIST!! join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

You had been dating Anton for a few years now. You met through a dating app, and while some might find that odd, you both clicked instantly. For better or worse, you fell in love.

Since you started dating at a young age, you both decided to seek job opportunities outside of town, which meant navigating a long-distance relationship. While many say long-distance relationships often fizzle out, that wasn’t the case for you two.

In fact, Anton would send you those silly memes that made you laugh and would video call you while cooking, asking for your advice if he messed something up. His friends teased you, saying you two were practically a married couple, and while there was some truth to that, the more accurate reality was that you both missed each other terribly.

So when he finally returned after landing a high-paying job—while you worked part-time as a cashier to cover rent—he insisted on paying your rent, but you turned him down.

The relationship seemed perfect, especially with his visit after what felt like two long years apart. But everything changed when you accidentally glanced at his phone. A text from a number with a heart emoji as a name read, “Is my baby fine?” In that moment, the realization hit you hard: the person you thought was your boyfriend was cheating on you.

“SO YOU CHEATED?!” you shouted as soon as you heard him enter the apartment. Anton, always the goofy one, jumped back in surprise at your furious tone and asked, feigning ignorance, “I’m not sure what you're talking about.”

“The message!” you ground out through clenched teeth, pointing at his phone, which he had mistakenly left behind.

As understanding seemed to dawn on him, he cursed under his breath and then smiled, which only confused you more. Why was he smiling? Shouldn’t he be trying to explain himself? Did those years together not mean anything to him?

Then he stepped closer, and instinctively, you took a step back until your back hit the wall of your apartment. His hands cupped your face as he said, “Hmm… Why would you trust the text so much? The ‘baby’ wasn’t me. The ‘baby’ was her dog, the one she asked me to take care of for a while.”

You didn’t buy it, so you pressed on, “Oh really? Then why does her username have a heart?”

He paused for a moment but answered without hesitation, even though you glared at him. “Well, maybe because that’s my mom?”

Processing that, your eyes widened. It actually made a sick sort of sense. The woman in the profile picture looked significantly older and bore some resemblance to Anton. Now you found yourself in a strange situation, filled with doubt.

You had just confronted your longtime boyfriend, your heart racing at the thought of betrayal, all sparked by a simple text while he gently held your face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I’m hurt, but I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you. I could never cheat on you, Y/N,” he reassured, resting his forehead against yours, the warmth of his skin anchoring you in that moment.

It took you back to when your love was fresh and innocent, when you were just seventeen, lost in each other’s world. Those years apart felt like an eternity, and as you closed your eyes, you longed for the sweetness of his touch, the electric thrill of his lips on yours.

The kiss deepened, a beautiful melody played by your lips as you moved together in perfect sync. He pulled away just enough to catch his breath before diving back in, his tongue tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers down your spine.

You felt the rhythm of your tongues entwining, a lovely exploration you had only ever dreamed of. You had talked about waiting for one another, yet now you felt the exhilarating unknown of your connection. His hands traveled up your shirt, igniting tingles on your skin, and as he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, the world around you faded away.

“Can I touch you more?” he asked, his hands gliding under your shirt as he looked at you with such intensity and love, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. The truth was, both of you were a bit inexperienced in this area, but let’s be honest, you both wanted to explore… so you nodded.

Before long, his hands were cupping your breasts beneath your shirt and bra. He was touching your bare skin. You could feel both of your breaths hitching; it was something new for the two of you after all.

You feel Anton's warm breath on your face as he leans in close, his lips softly brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "I can... really touch, right?" he murmurs, looking for your confirmation before pulling you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you. His tongue dances with yours as the kiss deepens, sending tingles through your body.

When you nod, he breaks the kiss, and his hands move with a swiftness that takes your breath away. Your shirt and bra are discarded in one smooth motion, leaving your bare skin exposed to his hungry gaze. His thumbs find your nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds until they harden into tight peaks. You can't help but let out a soft moan as waves of pleasure wash over you, your back pressed firmly against the wall.

Suddenly, you're airborne as Anton scoops you up in his arms, cradling you securely against his chest. A warm feeling envelops you, and you can't help but wish that at least one of you had some experience with this. "You don't mind, right?" he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he lays you down gently on the bed.

"Yeah, but..." you trail off, a hint of nervousness creeping into your tone. "Do you know how to...? At least one of us should know what we're doing."

Anton crawls on top of you, his powerful body hovering over yours. He leans down, planting a soft kiss between the valley of your breasts before looking up at you from between them. A sheepish grin spreads across his face. "I may have watched some... for scientific purposes, of course," he adds with a playful wink.

His arousal is evident, a hardened bulge straining against the fabric of his pants. It brushes against your jeans, sending shivers through both of you.

Your eyes flutter shut as Anton unbuttons his pants, the sound of fabric sliding against fabric filling the room. He discards them on the floor, along with your own jeans, the cool air brushing against your now bare skin. His large hand envelops your smaller one, guiding it towards his clothed bulge. You both hitch a breath as your fingers make contact, his arousal evident beneath the thin fabric.

"See what you do to me?" he whispers, his voice low and husky with need. You swallow hard, your heart thumping in your chest as he pushes his boxers down, and you see him, all hard and long, your eyes widening as a deep blush spreads across your cheeks at the exposed sight of him, vulnerable to you.

"Baby, you wanna put it in or do I?" he asks, unapologetic and direct, his tone incredulous. You squirm under him and look away, embarrassment exuding like a palpable scent.

"That's not quite. decent," you mumble, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Anton chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. "For what we're about to do, I don't think we should care about being decent," he says with a raised brow and a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as your clothes join his on the floor.

Again, his hand bumps against yours to move it to his bare cock. You can feel every ridge and vein beneath your fingertips, the heat of his skin searing against your own. Your shyness returns, but there's no denying the effect your touch has on him. He groans and his hips bulge slightly as your hand is constricted around his length.

"Have you never slept with anyone?" you ask, a note of skepticism creeping into your voice because of how confident he seemed. He shakes his head, the dark locks falling across his forehead.

"It's because I love you and I trust you," he breathes, words stuttered over a guttural curse as your hand tightens its grip. "Fuck.”

Your grip tightens on the shoulder of Anton as his cock teases your wetness, the head slapping lightly against your pussy. He lets out a sigh as that anticipation builds between you and him. "I am going to put it in," he whispers, his gaze searching yours for any sign of disapproval. Finding none, he slowly pushes forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance.

A shiver of agony rips across you as your cherry is broken, drops of blood trickling down into your pussy. Tears well up from your squeezed eyes, your body tensing against this strange sensation. Anton buries his face in the crook of your neck, his own breathing in ragged gasps. "It—h-hurts—" your voice cracks, the words barely audible.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he asks, "Should I pull out?" Despite the guilt etched on his face, you shake your head stubbornly. "No, I want to do it." Your walls clench around him, your body instinctively trying to accommodate his size.

Anton takes a sharp breath of air. He waits a few moments before pushing deeper. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching off the bed as he sheathes himself fully inside you. Tears stream down your face, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he stills, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.

"This is good, right? You're not scared now. are you?" he whispers against your lips, his hips rocking gently, your body slowly relaxing as it grows accustomed to the stretch.

"Mm." is all you can say, your mind dazed by the shocks of the sensations. His cock spasms inside you, and you and he are suddenly acutely aware of the crimson stain spreading across the sheets. Concern flickers in his eyes, but he knows this is normal, a testament to your lost innocence.

"It's okay, baby. It's supposed to hurt a little the first time," Anton reassures you, his voice soft and soothing. He kisses your tears away, his lips trailing along your cheek and down your neck. "I've got you. We'll go slow."

He starts to move, his hips rocking gently against yours, easing you into the rhythm. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure mixed with discomfort, your body struggling to adapt to the foreign sensation of being filled so completely.

"Breathe, Y/N. In and out," he coaches, his own breathing ragged as he fights to maintain control. "Tell me how it feels. If it's too much, I'll stop."

You whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to focus on the instructions. "I-It's intense," you manage, your voice trembling. "But don't stop. I want to feel all of you."

NOTE FROM SENA , this was genuinely just supposed to be a drabble, how the hell is this 1.8k words 😭💕

© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Sensitive.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x afab!reader

Words count: 1300 (more or less, I added something just before posting it)

Warning: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You make Frankie come just by playing with his nipples. That’s it, that’s the fic LOL

Tags: pov second person, reader has breasts, nipples and hair, no other description of her is given, pwp, nipples play (YAS we play with the man’s nipples wooo), ice cubes, swearing, pet names (baby, honey), established relationship, dick pronouns for @sp00kymulderr’s challenge, kissing, Frankie obviously has a huge cock, I think it’s all? Let me know if I missed something and I will add it right away.

A/N: I've been wanting to do this for a while now because I'm a big fan of nipples (gender neutral, folks, we don't discriminate here, I can love a variety of them) and those Pedro pics yesterday uhm…inspired me lol English is not my first language, I have no beta, any mistakes are my fault, I’m so very sorry 💀

I also did it because every time I use the translator to check my English, whenever I type something nipples related, the translator always uses she/her and it pisses me off.

I hope it's not cringe, if it sucks pretend you've never read it, please, I love you all bye.

I started a tag list, let me know if you want to be added, thanks so much!

Frankie has sensitive nipples.

You discovered this by accident, while you were in bed together after he had fucked you like a god. Your hand wandered over his chest and brushed against his areola. Frankie fidgeted, tried not to show it but the involuntary flinching of his body spoke for him.

He kissed you right after just before you could ask anything so you didn’t investigate any further but you were so intrigued by it. You kept thinking about the way he squirmed under your touch for days and craved to do something more for him.

You have a thing for nipples. For his especially.

Both because you love him and because they are delicious. You also don't like the fact that yours get all the attention while his have always remained two neglected little buttons on his chest while you’re pretty sure you could make good use of them.

Tonight is the time to change that, at least to try.

As you kiss on your couch his hands instantly fly to your tits, he massages them, squeezes them and as much as what he's doing drives you crazy you keep thinking that you would like to do something for him.

“Frankie” you breathe between kisses and he whispers on your lips “what, honey?”

“Nothing… it’s just…”

“What?” he interrupts you “did I do something wrong?”

You smile in front of his worried eyes “no, you’re perfect, really. I just…” you hesitate but in the end you spit it out “I would love to try something new”

Frankie smirks under his mustache “uh, what’s in that scrumptious little head of yours?”

You giggle, feeling your courage grow as you slowly run a hand over his chest still covered by his shirt, starting from his neck, down his collarbones and then his pectorals.

“I would like… uhm… I would like to play a little game”

Frankie’s eyes sparkle with curiosity mixed with excitement “you know I like games”

“Okay, do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, baby” he says right away, brushing your arm gently and looking you sweetly in the eyes.

“Let’s go to bedroom then”

You stop in the kitchen to get some ice cubes that you put in a glass as he watches you, still confused but definitely aroused “What are those for?”

“You'll find out soon enough” you take him by the hand grinning, lead him towards your room which has now become yours and you have him stand in front of the bed.

“Take off your shirt” you order him “and your jeans”

“I already like that,” he chuckles.

“Lie down,” you tell him soon after, playfully pressing a hand to the center of his chest.

You place the glass on the bedside table and undress, remaining only in your underwear while he cranes his neck to look at you and licks his lips full of anticipation.

“My favorite view…” he whispers and you giggle, crouching on the bed right next to him “Now listen to me, you can’t touch me but I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Frankie sighs “okay”

“Can you behave for me?” you raise an eyebrow watching him ironically.

Frankie lets out a more convinced “yes” and you praise him “such a good boy for me”

You brush your fingertips over his chest again, going down over his sternum, then over his stomach and belly, stroking the thin strip of hair that disappears into his boxers. "I think he'll like this," you whisper, watching his half-erection rose from beneath the fabric.

“He’s looking forward to it” he nods with a crooked smile.

Of course he expects you to touch him right there, but your hand goes back up letting a little protest leave his lips.

You stop on one of his nipples and your fingers graze all around the areola.

Frankie squirms, widening his eyes, mouth agape “oh fuck, is that what you want to do?”

You purr “exactly. Can I go on?”

Frankie swallows air, his Adam's apple pops in his throat, then murmurs, “Go ahead.”

“Shall we bet he will come untouched?” You suggest.

“We’ll see. Don’t make him wait further, gorgeous, do your thing” he urges you.

You begin to caress his skin, moving closer and closer, Frankie watches you mesmerized as you feel his body tense under your fingers.

You rub his areola again and then pinch his nipple. He gasps loudly “Oh fuck”

“Everything okay?” You murmur.

He frowns noticeably and nudges “yes.”

You alternate between pinching and rubbing, feeling his breathing get heavy and shorter as his cock swells under his boxers. You shift only long enough to pull them down and expose his huge engorged dick to your view.

“So much better” you purr “I need to see him”

You return to your seat beside him and remove your bra, smiling mischievously at him. Frankie tries to raise his hand to reach out to feel you but you rebuke him, " Hey, no! You can look, but don't touch, remember?”

He blurts out, “That's not fair,” and you chuckle, “I feel like he's doing just fine anyway. The best boy," you tease him.

You take an ice cube and pass it over your lips, you suck on it lightly and small drops of water slide down your chin, you place it back into the glass as Frankie lets out a needy moan. His pupils are dilated and his lower lip quivers slightly, he is absolutely delicious.

You reach down and your nipples brush against him, “You can feel them like that, can't you?”

He sighs “yeah…okay”

You stick your cold tongue out and run it over his and he groans “oh baby”

You eye his cock rise higher and higher until it comes flapping against his tummy, hard and swollen and its pre cum begins to drip from the tip along its length.

Your tongue circles his nipple, again and again, then you flick it and you nibble it lightly and Frankie's back arches as he gasps, "Holy fuck, baby, you're killing me."

Your mouth and ice-cold lips stir all his nerve endings just as you expected.

You smile pleasantly impressed against his skin ”you like that, huh?”

“God, yes” he breathes “fuck”

He groans loudly when you detached, taking an ice cube again and sucking it between your lips, then lean over his chest to reach the other nipple as you continue to rub the other with your fingertips.

His chest rises and falls faster and faster as your tongue strikes sharply and precisely, your other hand resting on his arm to steady you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop please I’m so close” he whimpers “fuck - just like that baby”

You continue until his cock is on the verge of bursting, then you move your hand to take it and finish him off.

“Come for me, Frankie, come on” you urge him “Give it all to me, baby” just like he does every time he’s in control and his response is immediate, he comes in your palm after a few strokes, long streaks of sticky cum painting your hands and his tummy as he whines.

You get between his legs to suck him clean, welcoming his cock between your lips and giving him what he wanted from the beginning after what he didn’t know he needed.

You suck him until he softens and then you lie in his arms, quietly enjoying his warmth. He is the first to break the silence, after kissing your nose and your forehead "damn, baby, you knocked me out"

You lift your gaze to his and smile "you didn't imagine that huh?"

"He didn't imagine it either," Frankie laughs.

"I told you he would like it" Frankie caresses your cheek and you reach out to kiss him, his taste still on your lips. "next time you play with mine while I play with yours" you coo.

He retorts, “just give me some time to rest and I’ll show you right away”

Thank for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

Tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed let me know if you want to be added or removed and I’ll do it right away ♥️

[avatarofthetired]

Since listing these brings joy to me

I bring to you

An ever growing masterpost of random absurd tma shit that just can’t be real /pos

- Martin actually has no middle name and added the K because he wanted to

- Jon spelling out LOL in his professional voice

- Jon singing. Brief singing

- “baaaaa” -Jonathan Sims

- Bug sex statement

- Bug sex two electric boogaloo

- Jon and Martin BOTH lied about their ages in order to seem more credible and professional

- Martin lied his way into the most dangerous job

- Jonas master plan relied on Jon being Gay As Fuck

- Being Compeled makes Elias aroused???

- that one plumber who walked into a Stranger site and was just so oblivious that Nikola called in Jude Perry so they could make fun of him and called him to come BACK

- Tim was sleeping with both a man and woman at the police station for information and records

- Tim thought Jon and Basira were sleeping together at first

- There was a guy who used a haunted coffin as his coffee table without realizing

- Bone Apple Teeth

- the existence of monster pig

- salesa was just living unbothered in the apocalypse with a woman he knew was going to kill him at some point

- the entirety of skeptic Jon (oh it’s normal that his body was fully encased in web, oh it’s normal that Sasha’s off to a wax museum every day with her boyfriend that looks like a stock photo)

- Jon asking Why Do You Sound Like That before asking if someone is going to kill him

- there was a guy who got trapped in a spiral maze and just left because he had dinner plans with his mom

- there was a girl who had a ghost in her house burning and she just went back to sleep

- homophobic vase

- real elias the nepo baby pothead who’s worst fear was being caught high

- Elías does his scheduling on Wednesday, he may be a monster but this is where he draws the line

- the s1 archive crew literally just commits crimes for Jon’s follow ups

- Sasha has hacked all of the s1 crews computers because she can

- Jon has never been on drugs but gets offended if you say he would never and also blames everything on drugs

- door man with knife hands

- there’s a guy who sells fucky items that screw people over and everybody still gets shit from him

- Jon was kidnapped three times like a little princess peach

- Gerry and his colorful shirt and shitty dyed hair and eye tattoos on vacation

- Jon keeps the rib that he got extracted by the guy who does fucky shit with your bones in his desk

- Peter Lukas got cancelled

- Peter Lukas only gave his ritual a name because he thought they were supposed to and everyone else was doing it

[amethystarachnid]

Hello, I’d love to request something for you

It’s for Tony and female reader, they are friends with benefits and she ends up getting pregnant, she’s afraid to tell Tony and afraid of his reaction because their arrangement doesn’t involve feelings (but they are so deeply in love with each other already) so she starts getting a little cold with him and Tony gets sad, until one day they decide to talk and reader tells him that she’s pregnant and that she understands if he doesn’t want the baby but Tony is so happy to be a father and to be a father of a baby with the woman he loves 🤍 after the news they will turn into a real couple and be so happy together. Thank you! 🤍

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: spicy, some mixed angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k

ᯓ★ Summary: Accidents happen, right? That's what you keep telling yourself the days after the condom broke while you and Tony were...together. Your period doesn't come but you lie to Tony and tell him it as, because he surely doesn't want a kid, right?

ᯓ★ TW(s): a small spicy scene, condom breaks

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ I love family man Tony so much, matter of fact, I love every character seen as a family man I don't know why lol.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The fluorescent lights of the Stark Tower kitchen are glaring, but not as much as Tony Stark’s smirk. He’s leaning against the counter, casually sipping coffee like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. But you know better. You see the faint twitch of his lips, the amused glint in his eyes that’s practically begging you to break the silence.

“You’re being weird,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the fridge.

“Weird?” he repeats, mock-offended. “I’m drinking coffee in my own kitchen. What’s weird about that?”

You raise an eyebrow. “The way you’re looking at me. Like... like you’re picturing something.”

Tony doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I’m definitely picturing something.” He tilts his head, eyes roaming over you in a way that’s anything but subtle. “Something that happened roughly seven hours ago, give or take.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you quickly avert your gaze. Seven hours ago, you’d been in Tony’s bed—or rather, sprawled across it while his hands did things you’re not entirely sure you’ll ever recover from. It’s supposed to be casual, the thing you have with him. No feelings, no strings. Just… stress relief, as Tony had so eloquently put it when this arrangement started.

But Tony Stark has a way of making casual feel like a loaded gun, just waiting to go off.

“Keep it down,” you hiss, glancing toward the door. “Do you want the others to hear?”

Tony raises his eyebrows in mock innocence. “What others? I’m pretty sure we’re alone.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you grab an apple from the counter, pretending to be far more interested in it than the infuriating man in front of you. Tony doesn’t move. He just keeps looking at you with that stupid smirk that makes your stomach flip in a way that’s both exhilarating and dangerous.

“You know,” he says after a beat, “if you keep trying to play the ‘nothing to see here’ card, it’s going to make things more obvious.”

“Obvious?” You scoff. “There’s nothing to make obvious.”

Tony sets his mug down and closes the distance between you in two easy steps. You barely have time to react before he’s towering over you, his arms boxing you in against the fridge. His cologne—some kind of absurdly expensive blend that probably costs more than your rent—wraps around you like a second skin.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice low enough to send shivers down your spine. “I’m a genius. You think I don’t notice the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching?”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, you do.” His lips curve into a smug grin, and damn it, why does he have to look so good doing it? “And let’s not forget how you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself when we’re alone.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, his voice dropping another octave. “Don’t worry. I like it. But you might want to work on your poker face, darling, because if I can tell, you can bet your ass the others will.”

The implication makes your stomach twist. “They don’t know.”

“Not yet,” Tony agrees. “But I wouldn’t underestimate Romanoff. Or Rogers, for that matter. The guy might be old-fashioned, but he’s not blind.”

You groan, pushing against his chest to create some distance. “This is exactly why we need to keep things… professional in public.”

Tony chuckles, stepping back just enough to let you breathe. “Sure. Professional. That’s exactly the vibe we give off.”

You glare at him. “I’m serious, Tony. If this gets out—”

He interrupts you with a finger pressed to your lips. “Relax. I’m not exactly running my mouth about it. What we do—” He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “—or don’t do—is nobody’s business.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you hate how easily he gets to you. You know you should say something, maybe call him out for being so infuriatingly cocky, but the words catch in your throat when his hand brushes against your hip, his touch just light enough to make you ache for more.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter.

“And yet, here you are,” he quips, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Before you can respond—or do something stupid, like kiss him—the sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you shove Tony away, nearly knocking the apple off the counter in your haste to look casual.

The door swings open, and Steve Rogers walks in, his expression as neutral as ever.

“Morning,” he says, nodding at the two of you.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice a little too high-pitched for comfort.

Tony, of course, is the picture of nonchalance. “Cap,” he says, raising his mug in a mock salute. “How’s it going?”

Steve gives him a once-over, his gaze lingering just long enough to make you sweat. But if he notices anything unusual, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and heads for the door.

“Training in ten,” he says over his shoulder. “Don’t be late.”

As soon as he’s gone, you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “See? This is why we need to be more careful.”

Tony shrugs, unbothered. “Relax. If anyone could smell trouble, it’d be Rogers. And he didn’t say a word.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t suspect something.”

Tony smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe. But then again, maybe he just thinks you can’t resist my charm.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet…” He steps closer, his voice dropping to that dangerously seductive tone that makes your knees weak. “You keep coming back.”

Before you can respond, he’s gone, sauntering out of the kitchen like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You, on the other hand, are left standing there, your heart racing and your head spinning.

This is going to be harder than you thought.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Tony’s fingers tangle in your hair, his lips trailing hot, demanding kisses down your neck as your back hits the soft sheets of his bed. The city lights outside cast long, flickering shadows across the room, but you barely notice. You’re far too focused on the way Tony’s hands roam your body like he’s memorizing every inch of you, the rough pads of his fingers igniting fire wherever they touch.

"You're incredible," he mutters, his voice thick with reverence and hunger as he leans back to look at you. His gaze rakes over you like you're the most exquisite thing he's ever laid eyes on, and for a moment, you're lost in the intensity of his expression. It's almost too much. Almost.

"You're not so bad yourself," you tease, though your voice comes out breathier than you'd like. It doesn’t matter. Tony doesn’t need words to know what he does to you.

He smirks at your reply, his trademark arrogance mingling with a rawness he rarely lets anyone see. He dives back in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that leaves you dizzy and aching. Everything about him is overwhelming in the best possible way—the taste of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble against your skin, the way his hands grip your hips like he can’t bear the thought of letting you go.

The night is a blur of heated whispers, tangled sheets, and the sound of your name falling from his lips like a prayer. By the time you both collapse back onto the bed, spent and panting, the world feels a little hazier, a little quieter. His arm is draped lazily over your waist, his body warm against yours as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“You’re something else,” he murmurs, his voice soft but edged with that familiar playful lilt.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply, your heart still racing as you close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you.

But then, his hand stills on your hip. There’s a beat of silence, followed by a quiet curse under his breath.

“What?” you ask, your voice sharp with alarm as you sit up slightly to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Tony doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls back just enough to inspect the condom in his hand—what’s left of it, anyway. The air between you shifts instantly, the charged intimacy replaced by something colder. His jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to yours, and you don’t need him to say anything to understand.

It broke.

Your stomach twists, panic creeping in around the edges of your mind. You know what this means. You know the risks, the possibilities. And judging by the way Tony is staring at you, his usual confidence momentarily stripped away, he knows too.

“Okay,” you say quickly, sitting up fully and reaching for his hand. “It’s fine. We’ll handle this.”

“Handle it?” he echoes, his tone sharp. His fingers curl into a fist around the useless piece of latex, his frustration evident. “Do you have any idea—”

“Yes,” you interrupt firmly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know. But freaking out isn’t going to help.”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You place your hand over his, squeezing gently. “I know. But it did, and we’ll deal with it.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his dark eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find something—reassurance, maybe, or some kind of solution to a problem neither of you can undo. Finally, he nods, though his jaw is still tight.

“I’ll take care of it,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. “I’ll get the pill tomorrow morning. It’s not a big deal.”

His eyebrows shoot up, his expression a mixture of skepticism and concern. “Not a big deal? Y/N—”

“Tony,” you cut him off, your tone firmer now. “I’m serious. It’s fine. These things happen. That’s why emergency contraception exists.”

He doesn’t look convinced. If anything, he looks more agitated, his mind no doubt racing through every worst-case scenario. You can practically see the calculations happening behind his eyes, his genius brain working overtime to solve a problem that can’t be solved with tech or money or wit.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching up to cup his face. His stubble is rough against your palm, but his skin is warm, grounding. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he does, his eyes locking with yours. There’s a vulnerability there, buried beneath the layers of charm and bravado he wears like armor. It’s a side of him he rarely lets anyone see, and it makes your chest ache.

“It’s going to be okay,” you say, your voice steady. “I promise.”

He exhales slowly, some of the tension in his shoulders easing at your words. He places his hand over yours, holding it against his cheek like he’s drawing strength from your touch.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he murmurs, his tone softer now. “This is my fault.”

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” you say firmly. “It just happened. And it’s not the end of the world.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze searching yours like he’s trying to gauge whether you really believe what you’re saying. You hold his gaze, willing him to see that you’re not afraid—that you’re in control, even if the situation feels precarious.

Finally, he nods again, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Alright,” he says quietly. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you reply, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Now, stop overthinking it and come back to bed.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“Someone has to be,” you tease, lying back down and pulling him with you. He goes willingly, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go.

As you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you feel the tension slowly drain from his body. He still holds you a little tighter than usual, and you know the worry is still there, lurking beneath the surface. But for now, you’re both safe in the quiet cocoon of his bed, and that’s enough.

The morning sunlight spills into the bedroom, cutting through the blinds in thin golden slats. You wake up before Tony, which isn’t unusual. His arm is slung lazily over your waist, and his face is relaxed in a way that makes him look younger, softer—like he’s let go of the weight of the world, if only for a few precious hours.

You slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him. Your feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and you grab one of his shirts from the edge of the bed, slipping it over your bare skin before padding out of the room. The small box you picked up from the pharmacy the night before sits on the kitchen counter, unopened. Your stomach twists as you pick it up, the weight of it heavier than it should be.

It’s not the first time you’ve taken the pill, and logically, you know what to expect. It’s supposed to be a fail-safe, a last resort. But something about the circumstances makes your chest tighten as you swallow the pill with a sip of water. The air feels thicker this morning, heavy with an unspoken tension that you can’t quite shake.

By the time Tony joins you, freshly showered and looking far too put-together for someone who stayed up so late, you’ve shoved the box deep into the trash and plastered on your best neutral expression. He doesn’t mention the pill. He doesn’t ask if you took it, though you know he’s probably been thinking about it. Instead, he leans casually against the counter and makes a joke about the kitchen being out of coffee, his easy demeanor doing little to mask the faint tension in his voice.

You don’t call him out on it. The last thing you want is to drag the conversation back into that same spiral of worry. Instead, you focus on normalcy—breakfast, half-hearted banter, the comforting rhythm of your strange, secret dynamic.

Days pass. A week. Maybe more. At first, you’re fine, brushing off the gnawing anxiety at the back of your mind. But when the calendar flips over to a new month and your period is nowhere to be found, the panic starts to creep in.

You check your phone obsessively, googling every possible explanation that isn’t what you’re afraid of. Stress, you tell yourself. Hormonal shifts. The pill can do this, right? Throw off your cycle? It’s not like your body works on a perfect schedule anyway.

And yet, as the days continue to pass, your chest tightens a little more every morning. The thought of telling Tony lingers at the edge of your mind, a shadow that grows darker every time you push it away. You think back to the night it happened, to the way he looked at you when the condom broke. The frustration, the fear—it’s all burned into your memory, and you’re not sure you can bear to see that look again.

So you don’t tell him.

When he asks casually a week later if “everything’s sorted,” you force yourself to smile and nod. “Yeah,” you say, your voice far steadier than you feel. “It was just a big scare. Everything’s fine now.”

The relief that washes over his face makes your heart sink. He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as his lips curve into an easy grin. “Good. That’s good.”

He doesn’t realize the way your stomach twists when he says it. He doesn’t notice the faint tremor in your hands as you reach for your coffee cup, your fingers brushing against the ceramic edge like it’s the only thing grounding you.

Tony doesn’t dwell on it after that. He’s good at compartmentalizing—too good, sometimes. Once he’s reassured, the topic is filed away in whatever mental vault he keeps for things he doesn’t want to think about.

But for you, it lingers.

You try to push it down, to bury it beneath layers of distraction. Missions, training, pretending that the world hasn’t shifted beneath your feet. But every time you’re alone, the weight of the lie presses against your chest, making it harder to breathe.

You catch yourself staring at him sometimes, wondering what he would say if you told him the truth. Would he panic? Shut down? Or would he surprise you, the way he sometimes does, with a level of vulnerability that makes your heart ache? You don’t know, and the uncertainty is almost worse than the fear itself.

One night, as the two of you sit curled up on the couch watching some old black-and-white movie he insisted you’d love, you feel the words bubbling up in your throat. The urge to tell him is almost overwhelming, the silence between you stretching thin and taut like a thread about to snap.

“Tony—” you start, but he cuts you off with a lazy smirk, his hand brushing against your thigh.

“You’re not actually paying attention, are you?” he teases, nodding toward the screen.

The moment slips through your fingers like water, and you force a laugh, shaking your head. “Not really,” you admit, though the words feel hollow in your mouth.

He grins, leaning in to kiss your temple. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The warmth of his touch should be comforting, but all you feel is the gnawing guilt in the pit of your stomach.

Days turn into weeks. You’ve never been particularly religious, but you find yourself silently praying every night, begging for some kind of resolution that doesn’t involve your entire world unraveling. You know you can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, the truth will come out, whether you want it to or not.

But for now, you cling to the fragile illusion of normalcy, pretending that everything is fine, that the ache in your chest isn’t growing louder with every passing day.

It’s late one evening when the weight of it all finally becomes too much. You’re standing in the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin looks paler than usual, your eyes shadowed with exhaustion. You press a hand to your stomach, your fingers trembling as you let out a shaky breath.

You can’t do this. You can’t keep pretending.

But when you step out of the bathroom and find Tony sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through something on his tablet with an easy smile on his face, the words die in your throat. He looks so… unburdened, so relieved.

You sit down beside him, your movements stiff and robotic. He glances at you, his expression softening as he sets the tablet aside. “Hey,” he says, his voice low and warm. “You okay?”

You nod, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” you lie. “I’m fine.”

It’s not fine. None of this is fine. But as Tony wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, you let yourself fall into the comfort of his embrace, even if it feels like it’s built on a crumbling foundation.

Because right now, it’s easier to let him believe the lie than to face the truth.

And for better or worse, you’re not ready to let go of the fragile peace that lie has created. Not yet.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The bathroom feels colder than usual, the air thick with a kind of tension you can almost taste. You’re sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, staring at the small white stick on the sink like it’s a bomb waiting to go off. Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest that it drowns out everything else—the hum of the air conditioning, the distant city sounds drifting through the window, even your own breath.

You’ve been here for what feels like an eternity, though it’s probably only been a few minutes. The instructions on the box said three minutes, but you’re too scared to look. Too scared to confirm what your body has already been hinting at for days.

Your period is ten days late. Ten.

You’ve always been irregular—stress, missions, even the pill you took that morning can throw your cycle off—but ten days? That’s more than a delay. That’s a sign.

You’re holding your breath, your hands clenched tightly around the fabric of your pajama pants. You want to stand up, to take that final step and see the result, but your legs won’t move. You’re frozen, caught between the urge to know and the overwhelming fear of what you might find.

When you finally gather the courage to stand, your knees feel shaky, like they might buckle under you. You lean over the sink, your trembling hand reaching for the pregnancy test. It takes everything in you to flip it over, to look at the little window that holds the answer to the question you’ve been too terrified to ask.

Two lines.

Positive.

You blink, your breath catching in your throat as the reality of it sinks in. For a moment, you feel like the ground beneath you has shifted, like the whole world has tilted on its axis. This can’t be real. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

And yet, as you stare at those two little lines, a strange, unexpected feeling blooms in your chest. It’s faint, fragile, but it’s there—happiness.

Your hand flies to your mouth as tears spill down your cheeks. You don’t even know why you’re crying. Is it shock? Fear? Joy? Maybe it’s all of it, a tangled knot of emotions you can’t begin to unravel.

You sink to the floor, your back against the cold bathroom tile, clutching the test in your hands like it’s a lifeline. Tears blur your vision, but you don’t wipe them away. You just sit there, letting the wave of emotions crash over you.

You love him. That’s the thought that breaks through the chaos in your mind, clear and undeniable. You love Tony Stark. Of course, you do. You’ve loved him for longer than you care to admit, longer than this arrangement of yours has been going on. And now, you’re carrying a piece of him inside you—a tiny, fragile piece that terrifies you and fills you with a strange, aching kind of hope all at once.

But then the fear creeps back in, sharp and insistent.

You think about the way he reacted that morning after the condom broke, the tension in his shoulders, the way he’d paced like he was trying to solve an unsolvable equation. You think about the relief that washed over his face when you lied and told him your period had come.

He doesn’t want this.

The thought makes your chest ache, the tears coming faster now. You know Tony. You know the walls he’s built around himself, the way he keeps people at arm’s length, even when he’s letting them into his bed. You know how hard he fights to keep control over his life, his world, his emotions.

A baby? That’s not part of his plan. Hell, you’re not even part of his plan. You’re supposed to be casual, no strings, no complications. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

And yet, here you are, clutching a pregnancy test and crying alone in the bathroom, trying to figure out how you’re supposed to navigate this new reality.

You can’t tell him. The thought hits you like a punch to the gut, but you know it’s true. You can’t tell Tony. Not now. Not when you can still see the relief in his eyes from the last time you reassured him that everything was fine.

He’ll leave. The thought makes your stomach twist painfully, but you can’t shake it. If you tell him, he’ll panic. He’ll shut down, pull away, and you’ll lose him completely. And as much as the idea of raising a child on your own terrifies you, the thought of losing Tony is worse.

So you don’t tell him.

You wipe your tears, setting the test on the counter with shaking hands. Your reflection in the mirror looks haunted, your eyes red and puffy, your cheeks streaked with tears. You take a deep breath, splashing cold water on your face in a futile attempt to calm yourself. You need to pull it together. You need to figure out what comes next.

But for now, all you can do is stand there, staring at your reflection, trying to reconcile the life you thought you had with the one that’s suddenly, irrevocably changed.

The door to the bedroom creaks open, and your heart leaps into your throat. You scramble to compose yourself, swiping at your eyes and plastering on a shaky smile just as Tony’s voice drifts into the bathroom.

“Hey, you alright in there?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with concern.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to sound normal. “Yeah,” you call back, your voice only wavering slightly. “Just… needed a minute.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he hums softly, like he’s satisfied with your answer. “Well, don’t take too long. I ordered breakfast, and you know how I feel about eating alone.”

You let out a weak laugh, your chest tightening at the sound of his voice. “Be right there.”

When you step out of the bathroom a few minutes later, your face freshly washed and your expression carefully neutral, Tony’s already sprawled on the bed with a plate of food balanced precariously on his lap. He grins when he sees you, patting the spot beside him like nothing’s changed.

And for now, you let yourself fall into the illusion of normalcy, even as the weight of your secret presses heavily against your chest.

The air between you and Tony shifts subtly at first—so small, so gradual, that neither of you comments on it. Nights that once burned hot now fizzle out before they even begin. The once-electric tension, the playful banter that led to tangled sheets and breathless laughter, is replaced by something colder. It’s you who pulls away first. At first, it’s subtle—an excuse here, a brush-off there. “I’m not in the mood tonight,” you say, avoiding his eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed, a little too far from him.

Tony lets it go. He always does.

He’s not the type to push, and you know he’s trying to respect your space. But as the days stretch into weeks, your distance becomes harder to ignore. Every time he reaches for you, his touch hesitant but hopeful, you step just a little further out of his reach. It’s not that you don’t want him—god, you want him more than ever. But every time he’s close, every time his lips brush against your skin or his voice drops into that low, teasing tone that always used to make you weak, you feel the weight of your secret pressing down on you like a stone.

You don’t know how to face him, how to look him in the eye without feeling like a liar. So you pull away.

Tony notices. Of course he notices.

At first, he thinks it’s stress. You’ve been juggling missions, the chaos of your lives, the constant push and pull of being in the public eye while trying to keep your relationship—whatever it is—a secret. Stress makes sense. It’s logical, explainable. But as time goes on, and your coldness toward him hardens into something sharper, something unrelenting, the doubts creep in.

It’s late one night, and Tony’s lying in bed alone, staring up at the ceiling as the soft glow of the arc reactor casts faint, shifting patterns on the walls. You’re not there. You’d excused yourself earlier, claiming you were tired, but instead of lying down beside him like you used to, you’d retreated to the living room.

He wants to follow you, to ask what’s wrong, to tell you he misses you even though he knows it’s not the kind of thing you say to someone who’s supposed to be a casual fling. But he doesn’t. He stays in bed, his chest tight, his mind spinning with every possible explanation for your sudden distance.

Maybe you’re over him. The thought sends a sharp pang through his chest, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on it. People lose interest all the time. It’s normal. Expected.

But then there’s another thought, one that he tries to push down but can’t quite ignore: Maybe there’s someone else.

He hates the idea of it. Hates the way his stomach twists every time it crosses his mind. But the way you’ve been avoiding him, the way you’ve stopped laughing at his jokes, stopped touching him, stopped letting him touch you—it all feels like proof that he’s losing you.

The thing is, Tony Stark isn’t good at feelings. He’s spent his whole life hiding behind sarcasm, distractions, and whatever shiny piece of tech he can throw together to keep people from seeing the cracks beneath the surface. But you? You’ve always been different. You’re the one person who makes him feel like he doesn’t have to pretend, like he doesn’t have to be “Iron Man” all the time.

And that scares him. Because if he loses you, he doesn’t know how to go back to the person he was before.

He tries to bridge the gap one night. It’s been weeks since you let him touch you the way he used to, weeks since the warmth of your body pressed against his in the dark. So he decides to take a chance.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice tentative as he steps into the living room where you’re curled up on the couch, your knees drawn to your chest.

You glance up at him, your expression guarded, and his chest tightens.

“Hey,” he continues, trying to keep his tone light, casual, like he’s not unraveling inside. “I was thinking we could—” He hesitates, the words catching in his throat. “You know. Watch a movie or something.”

You smile faintly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m not really in the mood, Tony.”

It’s the same excuse you’ve been giving him for weeks now, and it stings just as much as it did the first time. He nods, stepping back like he’s been burned.

“Right,” he says, his voice clipped. “Of course. You’re… busy.”

You feel the weight of his disappointment, and it makes your stomach twist with guilt. You want to reach out, to tell him the truth, but the words won’t come. You’re too scared—scared of what he’ll say, scared of what he won’t say.

Tony doesn’t press the issue. He never does. Instead, he retreats back to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. But you know him well enough to know he’s hurting. You’ve seen the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore, the way he avoids looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You hate it. You hate yourself for causing it.

But every time you think about telling him the truth, about letting him into the tangled mess of emotions you’re drowning in, the memory of his relief when he thought everything was fine stops you. You can’t bear the thought of seeing that same relief again, of watching him pull away from you because this—whatever this is—was never supposed to be more than just sex.

The problem is, it’s so much more for you. It always has been. And the thought of him not feeling the same way, of him walking away when he finds out about the baby, is enough to keep you silent.

So you stay distant, building walls around yourself even as your heart breaks every time you see him. And Tony, for all his brilliance, doesn’t know how to break through them.

It’s late when Tony finally breaks. The night air is cool, flowing in through the windows of the lab as he works, tinkering with something that doesn’t need fixing but still allows him to focus on something other than the gnawing feeling that’s been growing in his gut for the past few weeks.

He can’t ignore it any longer.

You’ve been so distant, so closed off. Every time he reaches for you, you pull away, your smile strained, your touch hesitant. He knows something’s wrong. You’ve been avoiding him—more than usual—and it’s like the light that once sparked in your eyes when you were around him has dimmed. You’re still there, physically, but emotionally? Mentally? He’s losing you, and he doesn’t know why.

At first, he thought it was just stress. You’ve both been running at full speed with everything going on in your lives—missions, the Avengers, the constant media circus that surrounds everything you do. But as the weeks have stretched on, and you’ve pulled further into yourself, Tony’s mind starts to wonder. He tries to brush it off, tries to tell himself that maybe you’re just going through something, or maybe you’ve just gotten tired of the arrangement you two have been navigating.

But that would mean he’s losing you, and the thought of that makes his chest ache.

He’s pacing now, a strange sense of urgency growing inside him. He can’t keep pretending everything’s fine. He can’t pretend he hasn’t noticed the way you flinch when he touches you, how you go out of your way to make excuses not to be close, to keep that emotional distance between you. It hurts. It cuts deeper than any physical wound he’s had, and if he doesn’t get to the bottom of it, he feels like he might lose himself entirely.

Without thinking, Tony heads toward the living room, his footsteps heavy as he approaches the place you’ve been hiding out in for the past hour. He’s not sure what he expects when he opens the door, but he knows he needs answers.

When you look up at him from the couch, curled up with a book in your hands, he sees it again—the sadness behind your eyes, the coldness in the way you hold yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve looked at him like that, and it hurts more than he’s willing to admit.

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice more strained than he meant it to be, “We need to talk.”

You blink at him, like you were expecting him to say something else, something easier to hear. But instead, you set the book down, letting out a long breath. “What about?”

Tony steps closer, his brow furrowed in frustration, eyes searching yours for any sign of the woman he once knew. “You’re not fine. I know you’re not. And I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay between us when it’s not.”

You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something, but the words die on your tongue. You’re not ready to tell him, not yet, but Tony’s insistent stare makes you feel like you don’t have a choice.

“Please, just tell me what’s going on. I—” He cuts himself off, not sure if he’s about to confess something he isn’t ready for. “I hate this distance between us. I hate how you’ve been avoiding me, and I’m not going to let you shut me out. Not when I know something’s wrong. So please, just tell me.”

You stand slowly, turning away from him, eyes cast down to the floor as you try to steady your breathing. You know you can’t keep this secret any longer. He deserves to know, but you’re terrified of his reaction. Terrified that he’ll leave, or worse, that he’ll shut you out just like you’ve been doing to him.

“I—” you start, your voice cracking slightly as you turn back to face him, your words hanging in the air like a fragile glass balloon ready to pop. “Tony, I’m… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, the room feels impossibly still. The sound of your heart pounding in your chest is louder than anything else. Tony’s face doesn’t change immediately, and for a second, you wonder if he’s even heard you. Maybe he didn’t catch it, didn’t really understand what you just said.

But then his eyes meet yours, and you can see the shock flicker across his face, his mouth opening as if he’s about to speak but nothing comes out.

The silence between you both stretches, and you hate it. You hate the tension that fills the space where once there was laughter, banter, comfort. You take a deep breath, the weight of your confession settling on your shoulders like an anchor, and you brace yourself for his response.

“I know you don’t want this,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I saw the way you reacted when I told you my period had come. You were relieved, and I know that means you don’t want a kid. And I—”

But Tony doesn’t let you finish. He’s already moved toward you, his expression softening, and before you even realize it, his hand is gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear you didn’t know had fallen.

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his voice quieter now, but his words are firm, like he’s trying to make you understand something important. “I wasn’t relieved because I didn’t want the baby. I was relieved because I remember you saying you didn’t want kids right now.” He lets out a shaky laugh, almost embarrassed by the way his own words feel in his mouth. “I guess I got scared for a second, thinking this was all happening too fast, but it wasn’t about not wanting a kid. It was about… us. About where we are in life. I wasn’t sure if you were ready for this, for everything that comes with it.”

You stare at him, blinking as the shock of his words sinks in. For a moment, all you can do is stand there, trying to process what he’s saying. He’s not angry. He’s not freaking out. He’s—he’s relieved? And then the smile that spreads across his face is one you’ve never seen before. It’s so full of hope, of joy, that it almost knocks the wind out of you.

“You’re happy?” you whisper, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound steady.

Tony’s grin widens, and his eyes are shining with something so genuine, so raw, that it’s impossible for you to look away. “You have no idea,” he says, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted to be a dad for a while now. I’m happy, Y/N. I’m so happy.”

The air between you both changes instantly. The heavy weight that’s been pressing down on your chest—your fear, your anxiety—lifts just a little. You feel like you can breathe again, the walls you’d built around yourself crumbling with every word he speaks.

You look up at him, your own smile breaking through the uncertainty, and before you can stop it, the words spill out. “I think I’m happy too, Tony.”

Tony’s expression softens, his eyes softening as he reaches for you, pulling you into an embrace so tight it almost feels like he’s never letting you go. You bury your face in his chest, your heart racing with a mix of emotions—relief, happiness, fear, but most of all, love.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “We’re doing this together. Okay?”

You nod against him, your arms wrapping around his waist as if you never want to let go. “Okay,” you whisper, a quiet laugh escaping you as the weight of the moment finally settles in. “Together.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe that no matter what comes next, you won’t be facing it alone.

Later that night, after the quiet joy of shared smiles and whispered promises had filled the room, the weight of the moment seemed to settle in more than ever. The excitement, the relief, the joy of the baby—all of that felt real now. But there was still one thing neither of you had addressed. The question that hung in the air just as heavily as it always had: What are we?

You weren’t sure when it started. When the blurred lines between “friends with benefits” and something more had begun to form, but you knew it was there now. It had always been there, from the moment his lips had first brushed against yours, from the first time you’d shared something deeper than just casual touch. The emotional attachment had crept in slowly, quietly, and for a long time, you had tried to ignore it.

But now, with a baby on the way and the delicate balance of your secret relationship on the verge of shifting, there was no denying it any longer.

Tony had been unusually quiet after the rush of emotions had faded, after you both had settled into your shared space on the couch, your legs tangled beneath a blanket. You’d both exchanged small touches, playful nudges, and soft words of reassurance, but as the night wore on, the air between you thickened again, and you both knew what was coming.

Tony wasn’t the type to shy away from hard conversations, especially not when it came to the things that mattered most to him. And now, with the future of your relationship hanging in the balance, he had to know: where do you two stand?

“Y/N,” he starts, breaking the comfortable silence that had wrapped itself around the two of you, his voice low, hesitant. “We need to talk about… us.”

You glance up at him, your heart picking up speed at the seriousness in his tone. He’s not looking at you now, not like before, when his eyes had been filled with a bright, carefree joy. No, now his gaze is intense, studying you in a way that makes you feel exposed. Vulnerable.

“I know,” you reply softly, the words almost a whisper, your fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket. You’re nervous now, your chest tight, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. After everything that’s happened, after the whirlwind of emotions surrounding the pregnancy, now comes the quiet storm that you’ve been avoiding. The talk about what your relationship is—what it could be.

Tony shifts, his body language tense. “We’ve been doing this for a while now—casual, no strings, no commitment. But now… this changes everything.” He lets out a breath, rubbing his hands over his face as if trying to wipe away the uncertainty. “I can’t help but wonder if we’ve been fooling ourselves, pretending we’re just two people with a little arrangement. I need to know if you feel the same way I do.”

Your stomach flips at the sincerity in his voice. The seriousness of it all hits you in a way you weren’t expecting. You’ve always been good at keeping things light, at pretending that this thing between you both was just about fun, just about the thrill of being together without the complications of a real relationship. But now, with the baby coming, everything has changed.

Tony continues, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know about you, but… I’m not just some guy you hook up with and then move on from. That’s not what I want anymore. I never thought I’d say this, but I—I want more than that with you. I think I’ve wanted more for a long time, even before we got here, and now… with the baby, I don’t know how to act like we’re just two friends. I can’t.”

You swallow, the knot in your throat tightening, making it harder to speak. You want to say the right thing, but you don’t even know what that is anymore. For so long, you’ve kept the walls up, kept yourself detached from him, from the idea of ever needing more than just him in your bed, in your life.

But now, after everything that’s happened—the broken condom, the shock of the pregnancy test, the tenderness of his touch, the way he looks at you now—you can’t pretend anymore. You know what you feel. You’ve known for a while.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice trembling. You can’t stop the truth from slipping out, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself be honest with him. “I’ve been so scared, Tony. I was scared to let myself feel more than just… this. I didn’t want to be vulnerable. I didn’t want to fall for you, but I did. And now, with this… I don’t know what that means for us.”

He leans in, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee, grounding you with the warmth of his touch. “It means we figure it out. Together.”

You meet his gaze then, really look at him, and for the first time since all of this started, you feel the fear melt away, replaced by something that feels like hope, like relief. Maybe it’s too soon to figure everything out—maybe the fear will still be there tomorrow, when you wake up and face the reality of being parents together. But right now, in this moment, you realize that whatever comes next, you’re not alone.

“I’ve never wanted anything more than this,” Tony murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want us, Y/N. I want this—whatever it is—if it’s with you.”

Tears well in your eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. “Are you sure? Because, Tony, this is… a lot. We’re talking about everything changing. Our whole lives—”

“I know,” he interrupts, cutting you off softly. “But that’s the thing, Y/N. It’s supposed to change. It’s supposed to be big. And it’s gonna be scary. But I’d rather be scared with you than pretend we’re okay with something less.”

You smile, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks, but they’re not tears of fear anymore. They’re tears of relief, of joy. “I feel the same,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want anything else either. I want us.”

The air shifts around you both. The weight of everything that’s been left unsaid, the uncertainty, the fear, all of it starts to dissipate in the wake of your words. In the silence that follows, there’s a quiet understanding that passes between you, something unspoken but deep. You’re not just two friends anymore. You’re something more. Something real. Something that might still be terrifying, but you’re willing to take that step together.

Tony leans in, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “We’re gonna figure this out, Y/N. We’ll do it together, okay? All of it. No more running from it. No more pretending.”

You nod, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the peace of knowing that he feels the same way. For the first time, you don’t feel the need to guard yourself, to hold back. Whatever happens next, you know you’ll face it with him by your side.

And for the first time in months, you allow yourself to feel the hope that the future might not be so terrifying after all.

“Together,” you whisper back, your voice full of resolve.

“Together,” Tony agrees, his smile softening as he leans back into the couch beside you. You both sit there for a long moment, the world outside forgotten, the future uncertain but no longer so intimidating. With each other, you feel ready for whatever comes next.

The decision to tell the Avengers comes surprisingly easy, though Tony initially overcomplicates it—as is his style. He drafts no fewer than six different ways to break the news, each one more elaborate than the last, from a staged press conference to a spontaneous "Oops, did we drop a clue?" moment during dinner. Ultimately, it’s you who insists on something simple: just sitting everyone down and saying it outright.

The team gathers in the common area after a particularly grueling mission briefing. Steve sits on one side, arms crossed in casual curiosity, while Natasha and Clint exchange knowing looks, as if they’ve already pieced together whatever you’re about to say. Thor leans back with an air of amused disinterest, and Bruce glances between you and Tony with a subtle frown, clearly trying to deduce what’s happening.

Tony clears his throat, standing with his hands shoved into his pockets—a nervous habit you’ve grown to recognize. You sit beside him, trying not to laugh at the way he fidgets like a kid preparing to confess he’s broken something.

“So,” Tony begins, his voice smooth but a little too loud, “we’ve got some news. Something big, something life-altering. Not world-ending, don’t worry—though it is arguably more exciting than an alien invasion or a helicarrier falling out of the sky.”

“Get to the point,” Natasha cuts in, raising an eyebrow, though her smirk betrays her amusement.

Tony glances at you, and you take his hand, offering him a reassuring squeeze. You look at the group, your heart racing but a soft smile playing on your lips. “We’re together,” you say simply, “and… we’re having a baby.”

The room falls silent for a beat, and then chaos ensues.

Clint immediately lets out a loud, theatrical “Called it!” while Thor booms a congratulatory cheer, clapping Tony on the back so hard he almost topples forward. Natasha simply smirks, her sharp eyes flickering with something close to approval. Steve blinks once, then twice, before nodding with a small smile. “Well,” he says, “it’s about time.”

Bruce, for his part, is the most measured. “Congratulations,��� he says warmly, his expression soft as he looks between the two of you. “That’s… big news. You’ll both be great parents.”

Tony, who thrives on reactions, looks around at the mix of responses, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “Wait, that’s it? No one’s shocked? No dramatic gasps? No ‘Tony Stark, settling down, what has the world come to?’”

Natasha tilts her head. “We’re not blind, Tony.”

“And you’re not exactly subtle,” Clint adds with a laugh. “The sneaking around was cute at first, but come on. The looks? The way you guys act around each other? It was only a matter of time.”

You laugh, leaning into Tony’s side as he rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t care if they saw it coming—he only cares that you’re here, by his side, sharing this moment with him.

As the weeks pass and your belly starts to grow, Tony’s excitement becomes something of a full-time personality trait. He’s protective in a way that sometimes makes you laugh and sometimes makes you roll your eyes—like when he insists on scanning the ingredients of every snack you eat or hovering too closely while you climb the stairs.

“Tony, I’m pregnant, not fragile,” you remind him one evening when he’s fussing over your attempt to carry a laundry basket up from the bedroom.

“Yeah, well, you’re carrying my kid,” he retorts, taking the basket from your hands with a flourish. “And I’m not taking any chances.”

But it’s not just the protectiveness. There’s something else, something deeper. Every day, he seems more in love—not just with you, but with the idea of the life you’re building together. He tells you often how beautiful you are, how the so-called “pregnancy glow” makes you shine brighter than any reactor core he’s ever built. And when he’s not busy marveling at you, he’s completely, utterly enchanted by the baby growing inside you.

Tony spends hours talking to your belly, as if the baby can already hear and understand him. He lays his head against your stomach whenever he can, his voice soft and full of wonder as he murmurs stories about the world, about your life together, about the adventures waiting for the little one.

“You know,” he says one evening, his hand resting gently on your belly as he leans in close, “you’ve got it pretty good in there, kid. Mom’s amazing. She’s brilliant, and funny, and stubborn as hell—you’ll learn that soon enough. And me? Well, I’m not so bad either. We’re gonna be a great team, the three of us.”

You watch him, your heart swelling at the sight of the man who, not so long ago, had been the epitome of carefree, refusing to be tied down. Now, he’s the man who can’t wait to be a dad, who looks at you like you’re his entire world.

“I think they’ll be lucky to have you,” you say softly, running your fingers through his hair as he continues to talk to your belly.

Tony looks up at you, his expression tender. “Nah,” he replies, his voice teasing but warm. “They’ll be lucky to have you. I’m just along for the ride.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss him, and he smiles against your lips, his hand never leaving your belly. Moments like this are becoming your new normal—quiet, intimate, filled with the kind of love that feels like it’s been there all along, waiting for the right time to bloom.

As the baby kicks for the first time a few weeks later, Tony’s excitement is nothing short of infectious. He whoops loudly, startling you for a moment before his hand immediately presses against your stomach again, his grin wide and boyish.

“Did you feel that?” he exclaims, his eyes lighting up as he looks at you.

You nod, tears springing to your eyes as you smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, your hand covering his. “I felt it.”

“That’s my kid,” he says proudly, leaning down to kiss your belly. “Already making an entrance.”

You can’t help but laugh, your heart full to bursting. In moments like this, it’s hard to remember why you ever doubted this—why you ever doubted him. Tony Stark, for all his flaws, is everything you never knew you needed. And now, as you prepare to welcome the biggest adventure of your lives together, you know one thing for sure: you’re in this together, every step of the way.

[the-barefoot-hatter]

kill that bug dead! he said all of that right in front of the kid too? no mercy!

steve is very, very loved <3

-◬--◬--◬-

Imma tackle the questions posed here! (readmore cuz i get yappy)

(I am so jazzed for Q&A, I get so nervous just talking outside the tags on my own and i have feeeeeeeelings)

do you think bill felt guilt for passing down his single eye down to Steve. or if ford felt guilt for passing down the six digits.

I think Bill's strange eye wasn't weird for the number of eyes, but for what he can see with it. And Bill is certain Pyramid Steve inherited his special vision, because his baby is special and spectacular and all other babies are boring diaper-rashed losers in comparison!!!

(Bill is feeling some kinda way about P.S. maybe inheriting ALL of Bill's powers given Bill's track record at handling his own abilities. at the same time. ex astris, ad astra)

Ford doesn't really have the context to be entirely sure what Bill's kind is supposed to look like (Bill really likes all Ford's fingers so clearly six isn't the normal number), but it does make Ford feel all soft and fuzzy inside to share his polydactyly, something he's never had in common with anyone before, not even his own twin.

(once P.S. hits school age Ford will start worrying history will repeat itself and his toes will get him bullied, overlooking the rather obvious fact that other kids will notice he's a triangle with no arms first)

(in general both Ford and Bill think it's sweet how much P.S. looks like the other one. Both of them are shocked whenever someone says the obvious "oh he looks like just like you!" lines (triangle/triangle for bill, blue eyes/blue eyes for ford))

#what if when Steve grows up he’s casually chatting with his dad Ford#and then he casually drops all the stuff bill did that he didn’t tell ford#including the pediatrician incident

Oh, Bill has 100% let things slip around Pyramid Steve, thinking he was too baby to notice or remember. Plus a lot of the typical "don't tell your father!" incidents that come out years later (ranging from the normal to the 'he let you steer a WHAT when you were WHAT?!')

(Bill burned down at least three more pediatrician offices. Actually, they finally found a good match right in Gravity Falls. Go fig, the weirdness attracts weird parents with weird kids)

#THE TAGS IN THE ORIGINAL POST KILLED ME. KILLED ME DEAD

yay! I tend to yap in there about extra feelings stuff. i think i actually hit the tag limit lol

pediatricians are hard to find.

you aren't broken and other important things a triangle needs to hear

[tinylilacbun]

I just had a thought for your new series.

Everyone in the obx kinda knows how Luke is but noone says anything. Maybe JJ shows up to babysit and he had a bruise/black eye or cut basically an obvious injury and toddler readers parents recognise what it's from and invite him to spend a few nights in their guest room under the guise of babysitting because they know he won't accept help

Feel free to completely ignore this, I literally just woke up and had the thought so I thought I'd share- :3

-a very shy mutual lol 😅

Omg hi my sweet moot!! Hope you like this :3

You're sitting on the living room sofa, wriggling your feet as you watch Bluey on the tv while eating your snack, occasionally seeing your parents pass by.

They're getting ready for their date and instead of whining and crying for them to stay you're giddy with excitement and can't wait for JJ finally to arrive.

You gasp when you hear the doorbell ring, jumping off the couch to run towards the front door barely reaching the handle you open it quickly, squealing at the sight of JJ.

JJ chuckles, your adorable face distracting him from the throbbing pain from the lingering bruises and cuts on his face that you luckily haven't noticed yet as you hug his legs.

"Oh, JJ, honey good you're here. We're almost ready to go. She already had dinner but still needs her bath before going to sleep." Your mother tells him as she puts on her coat while your father puts on his shoes.

"No problem, we'll manage this, huh?" He grins down at you.

She turns to face him, her smile fading at the state the teenager is in. Obviously your parents know about his father and the probably bad environment JJ is living in, your mother's heart aching at the sight before him.

JJ has a forming bruise on his cheek and cuts on his eyebrow and his bottom lip, but still smiling down at the little princess that's clinging to his legs. Your parents share a look, already figuring what must have happened.

"Hey, buddy, um we really got a lot on our plate the next few days and wanted to ask if you would maybe sleep here in our guest room for the rest of the week? It would really take some pressure from our shoulders knowing our baby is taken care of." Your father asks him, grabbing the car keys from their designed bowl.

"Uh, yea...sure." He says, not noticing the true intent of the request but agrees nonetheless, he could never say no to spending time with you. "You heard that, cupcake? We're gonna have a sleepover."

"Yay! C'mon Jay! I gots to show you m'new critter family!" You squeak, pulling at his hand to drag him to your room.

As soon as you both disappear from their sight your mother sighs. "I'm worried about him."

Your father nods, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. "Me too. But we can't do much since he won't accept it. I'm glad he agreed to stay, tho. Now, come on, let's give him some time to relax here."

You're happily showing him your new calico critter set that you got after your dentist appointment. Introducing each critter to him, you both sitting on the fluffy carpet of your room.

"And dis S'Jay 'cause he reminds me of you!" You smile, handing him the tiny figure, looking up at his face for his reaction you furrow your brows in confusion.

Without thinking you reach up to touch his cheek and JJ winces, gently taking your wrist and pulling it away from his face. "Don't touch it please, um...it-"

"Hurts? You got boo-boos?" You ask curiously and he nods, a small smile on his face at your innocent question.

"Yeah, but it's fine." He says, watching how you rush out of your room.

He gets up from the ground and follows after you, seeing you just as you're about to enter the bathroom and as he's about to enter you rush back out and bump into his legs, JJ grabbing your shoulders to keep you steady with a chuckle. "Careful there. Watcha got there?"

You motion for him to come closer and he leans down, not expecting you to suddenly place a bandaid on his cheek, grabbing another one from the colorful package that you place over the cut on his eyebrow.

JJ's face softens at the action, picking you up when it seems you were done with nursing his wounds. "Thank you..."

You smile at him brightly, leaning closer to press a kiss on each bandaid. "Kisses make me feels better."

His heart almost explodes at your cute gesture, letting you tuck your face in his neck as you wrap your arms around it he could feel a single tear slip down his cheek, grateful for having someone who doesn't question him or tells him that he should get help and do something about his dad.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[rey-jake-therapist]

One of the many things I love about Galadriel is how she acts defensively whenever she's caught in fault, instead of instantly recognizing that she did something wrong and apologizing, like a "good girl" usually would.

Example one : in season 1, Halbrand was pissed because Galadriel promised Miriel that he would lead Numenor's army as the king of the Southlands, and rightfully so : he repeated several times that he wasn't the hero she sought, told her he had found the pouch on a dead man when she claimed he was that lost king, begged her to leave him be, and yet here she was, talking on his behalf ! I know some of you believe that Sauron was doing an act here and was actually delighted because it was what he wanted, but that's besides the point.

At this point, Galadriel believed Halbrand was only a human. She believed that, and yet acted behind his back and threw him under the bus because she wanted that war, while she knew he wanted no part in it.

But what did she do when he called her out ?

Lol here she was, pretending that "handing her over for a guild crest" was as serious as promising his participation in a war. I mean, at worst Galadriel would have spent a couple of days in jail for her intrusion in the king's room, while Halbrand could have been killed in the Southlands. She got him in a corner and put him in a very unpleasant position regarding Miriel. And more important even : she didn't respect his wish to be left out of it, whlile he was clearly traumatized by what he had lived there and aspired to peace.

But Galadriel was too proud at this moment to admit that she was wrong, so instead of apologizing, she attacked.

I know she apologized later at the forge, but was it even sincere, or was it just a way to coaxe him, because she needed him to take the king's mantle for Numenor to send ships to the Southlands ? I have my idea ;)

The second time was after she admitted that Halbrand was Sauron, when Elrond, outraged by the fact that she hadn't disclosed this information to him and Celebrimbor before the rings were forged, called her out for being blinded by her pride, thus denying that she had been "deceived" by Sauron.

What was Galadriel's reaction ? Yes, here again, instead of making a low profile, she struck back.

She basically said, "it's your fault we didn't get the Mithril, if we had had the Mithril we wouldn't have had to forge the rings, and Sauron wouldn't have touched the forge !"

I love it because it's perfectly in character of her to react that way. Because Galadriel IS proud, she will rather adopt a defensive behavior when she's caught being wrong, than admit she screwed up.

By the way, unrelated but did you notice she tears up when she says that ? My poor baby.... Sauron I'm under your bed.

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 14: HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 13 | MASTERLIST | CH 15 [soon]

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: drama, angst, fluff, smut, language, short smau, [redacted] wc: ~10.9k (sry lol) song inspo: Sweetness x Elmiene ft. Leon Thomas (fav song rn! so underrated) 💌: heavens gates are closed for me full stop no comma

“You’re gonna bite right through the pen cap if you keep chewing on it” Trent teased, breaking through the silence in the car. He glanced at you from the driver’s seat with his eyes crinkling in the corners as he caught you with the pen cap clutched between your teeth. You quickly pulled the cap from your mouth and held it tightly in your hand instead.

“Sorry..” you muttered, embarrassed. “I just..ugh. This whole thing feels weird. I just wanna do the creative stuff, y’know?” You glanced down at the folder in your lap. “This other stuff is...just not for me.”

Trent quietly chuckled as the soft pops of his gum filled the space between his words. “You sound like me when I’ve got media duties. ‘I just wanna play football’” he mimicked in an imitated complaining tone.

You slumped back into the passenger seat with your eyes drifting back to the folder on your lap like it was a ticking time bomb. “I just hate that I have to do this..” you admitted quietly. “It’s not like I don’t trust them but..” you trailed off, staring at the window while the car moved through the passing streets. 

“Baby,” Trent spoke softly, cutting through your thoughts. He moved his hand from the gear shift to rest it above your knee. “You’re not doing this because you don’t trust them. It’s just to protect what’s yours, yeah? There’s a difference.”

You nodded, gnawing at the inside of your cheek. “NDAs just feel so corporate. Like.. ‘Hi, welcome back to work. Here’s some legally binding paperwork to remind you not to gossip and spill any of my secrets.’ It makes me look like a snob, right?”

Trent laughed and shook his head. “Nah, it doesn’t. It makes you look like someone who built something amazing from scratch and doesn’t want it wrecked by somebody running their mouth. If they have any sense then they’ll sign the paper without a fuss.”

“Maybe” you sighed, still staring at the folder that held the paperwork. The weight of it felt heavier than it should have for something that was light enough to blow away with the wind. “It’s not just about the store though... it’s everything. My life, my family...you. And if they’re leaking stuff…”

Trent gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, sensing your spiralling thoughts. “And that’s exactly why you’re doing this. If Ziggy didn’t catch them it could be way worse by now. First it’s believable rumours, then it’s ‘Trent’s secret baby mum spotted in Liverpool.’”

You snapped your neck at him, eyeing him with annoyance. “Out of all the things to come out of your mouth...why would you say that? That’s not even funny Trent..I’m sure there are girls lining up for that opportunity.”

“I’m just saying,” he added, laughing softly. “Better to nip it now than deal with stuff like that later. It’s not like you’re firing them or anything. You’re being smart about your business.”

Maybe he was right, but that didn’t stop the feeling of your stomach twisting from anxiety. You tilted your head back, staring at the roof of the car like it could give you some sort of divine intervention to avoid this whole mess. “This is going to be so awkward..” you groaned with your dread evident. 

Your thoughts drifted to your assistants who had become such a big part of daily life at Les Notes d’Amour. Tara always had an infectious energy that made the store feel a little brighter. She was bubbly, and sometimes way too chatty for her own good. It wasn’t hard to picture a LFC loving uni student spilling something to someone without realizing how far it could spiral, whether it was accidentally or not. Ember was the complete opposite of Tara, and was often sharp, calm, and systematic. Her precision was one of the reasons you hired her in the first place. It was always like she was two steps ahead of everyone else, and you liked that since you were an overthinker. You knew you could always count on her to get things done while you were away. She didn’t seem like the gossiping type, but you didn’t really know much about either of them outside of Les Notes.

“Maybe I should’ve done this when Camille mentioned it” you quietly acknowledged as the storefront came into view. “Or maybe I should’ve just let her dad handle the hiring process. That would’ve saved me from this headache.”

Trent steered into a parking spot in front of the shop and cut the engine. “Nah. It’s better coming from you. Your store, your rules.”

His optimism was appreciated, but your mind was already racing as you wondered how the conversation could go. Would Tara burst into tears and make it more awkward than it already was going to be? Would Ember cross her arms and roll her eyes over something so trivial? Or even worse, would one of them get offended enough to quit on the spot?

You chewed on your lip, staring at the folder as if it could detonate at any second. You didn’t know what to expect, despite trying to come up with every possibility in your head. The uncertainty was the worst part of it. They weren’t just assistants anymore; Tara and Ember were an essential part of your business now. The thought of finding someone else to fit into your carefully built world felt exhausting if they took this upcoming conversation the wrong way.

“I don’t know if they’re going to take it well…” you trailed off, not wanting to open the car door and go inside.

Trent leaned over and unbuckled your seatbelt for you. His fingers brushed against your arm as he spoke softly. “You’re overthinking it baby,” he said. “It’s just to protect yourself and what’s yours.”

You nodded, but the thought of Tara breaking into tears or Ember giving you the cold shoulder made the knot in your stomach tighten. You were supposed to be teaching them how to make batches of Rêveur today, but the little folder in your lap could completely derail your plans for the day. With a sigh, you stared at the Les Notes d’Amour gold lettered sign through the car’s window before stepping out of the car, gripping the folder tightly against your chest. Trent followed a few steps behind you, giving you the space you needed to handle things on your own. When you walked toward the store, you could hear the faint sound of humming coming from inside. The sound of Tara’s bubbly energy already made you feel like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. It really wasn’t that all that deep, but in your mind it felt like the world was about to crumble beneath you.

The door jingled as you stepped inside and Tara stood at the counter, arranging a set of fragrances into neat rows, her glasses slipped down her nose slightly from the concentration. She glanced up when she heard the door and her face lit up with her usual bouncy enthusiasm. 

“Oh! Hi, Y/N! Morning, Trent!” she chirped. “You’re early today!”

Ember was across the room, sorting through email requests for custom fragrances. She glanced over briefly, nodding in acknowledgement. “Morning” she said in her usual direct tone before returning back to her task.

Trent nudged your shoulder gently before wandering toward your workstation. He picked up a few of your scent vials and held them to the light, inspecting them like they were a puzzle he was trying to solve. He opened one and gave it a sniff, frowning curiously as if he was mentally cataloguing the notes of each vial. A boutique filled with delicate glass and the constant hum of creativity wasn’t his world, but somehow he fit in perfectly. It comforted you, even if the pressure of the conversation ahead felt heavier than ever.

“Tara. Ember..” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly as you gestured toward your office in the back. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”

Tara immediately froze with her hands hovering over a glass bottle. “Oh.. yeah, of course! Is everything okay?” Her voice was chipper, but you could sense the nervousness creeping into her tone. Ember pushed back her chair and stood up with her usual composure. “Sure,” she said simply, but her gaze flicked between you and the folder in your hands before she followed Tara to the back. You caught Trent’s eye as you passed him and he gave you an encouraging smile.

“You got this baby” he mouthed before turning his attention back to the vials.

The air felt suffocating as the three of you settled into your office. Tara sat down immediately and folded her hands nervously in her lap, while Ember leaned into her chair with her arms crossed. She had an unreadable, but not unfriendly expression. You set the folder down on the desk and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say while both girls stared back at you.

“Sooo. Umm..” you began in a shaky voice. Your hands were clenched together in your lap as you tried to will yourself to stay calm. “First off..I just wanted to say how much I appreciate both of you and everything you do. Both of you are an important part of this place. I mean that.”

Tara smiled nervously and Ember tilted her head, studying you like she was waiting for you to get to the point. 

“But..” you continued in a hesitant voice. “Something happened recently. There’s been some information about me that’s been leaked online these last couple of months. Nothing huge..but enough to make me feel like I should probably set some boundaries..okay?”

Tara’s nervous smile disappeared as she fidgeted with the bottom hem of her top. “I– I swear I didn’t mean for anything to happen.” she stammered in a trembling voice. “I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time! I never wanted to hurt you or anything. I’m so sorry.”

Ember glanced at the folder in front of you, curiously. “What kind of boundaries are we talking about?” she asked in a calm but direct tone.

You opened the folder and slid two copies of the NDAs across the smooth surface of the desk. “It’s not about anything specific, really” you said, trying to sound as neutral as you could be, even if you were kind of lying.

“It’s more about making sure everything that happens here stays here. I just need to know we’re all on the same page and that anything you hear or see working here doesn’t leave these walls.”

Tara’s eyes darted to the papers in front of her and then back at you. “Oh my god. This is because you’re pregnant isn’t it?” she blurted out. “I only mentioned it in my group chat! One of my friends messaged SpillTheBeans after I said not to. I really didn’t mean for it to –”

“Tara I’m not pregnant” you cut her off with an awkward laugh, trying to diffuse the tension. “The only baby I have is this place. Which is why I need you to sign this paper.” You pulled out a pen, tapping the ballpoint against the signature line. “Just sign here and we’ll be good.”

Tara’s eyes went wide as she bolted upright in the chair. “Oh my god, I thought I was getting fired!” she blurted out, clutching her chest like the words were exhausting her. “I’ve been waiting for it to happen for days. I even texted my mum and asked her if I could move back in…she said no, by the way!”

Her rambling spilled out so fast you could hardly keep up. Even Ember gave her a side eye.

“What? I’m not…no. You’re not fired Tara” you reassured, trying to keep your tone calm despite her dramatics. “It’s not that serious. We can just move forward from it, okay? Just don’t let it happen again.”

Tara reached for the pen so fast she almost knocked it off the desk. “Yeah, sure! I’ll sign whatever you want girl!” she exclaimed while scribbling her name on the line. “You could tell me you’re actually secretly dating Jude Bellingham right now and I’d take it to my grave.”

“Um, no. That’s definitely not happening” you replied, trying not to laugh at the thought of you dating Jude in some twisted alternate reality. 

Ember leaned forward next when Tara handed her the pen but her movements were slower. She picked up the pen and twirled it between her fingers to read through the paperwork before signing her name. “Yup. Seems fair” she replied plainly, sliding the paper back toward you. When you reached to pick it up, Ember’s phone vibrated against the desk surface. She snatched the phone quickly, trying to silence the buzzing noise.

“Sorry. Just my boyfriend making dinner plans,” she muttered before placing her phone into her pocket.

“Okay...I’m not that strict, Ember. I don’t care if you use your phone.”

Ember shrugged and brushed her fingers against her pocket to make sure her phone was tucked away. “He’s just.. really big on planning. Always wants everything figured out ahead of time.”

You smiled to try and lighten the mood. “Oh! He’s like me then? I always need to plan for everything.”

“Yeah something like that.”

Tara leaned forward to chime in eagerly. “My boyfriend is the total opposite. He’ll text and ask to grab a drink and then suddenly it’s a whole night out. Spontaneous dates are the best though!”

Tara was a yapper. You didn’t know why she was suddenly oversharing. Maybe it was to compensate for leaking rumours about you, but either way, your eyes were glazing over from her talking so much.

“Oh! Since we’re all booed up, we should do a triple date sometime!” she added, looking between you and Ember with excitement evident.

You raised your eyebrow and gave her a deadpan look that made her backpedal immediately. “Okay..okay. Too soon. Got it!”

“Very” you replied while laughing and shaking your head. “But speaking of planning things out…Trent and I are going away for a bit so I need to make sure everything’s running smoothly while I’m gone.”

“Oohh, it’s giving holiday vibes” Tara chirped with a smile. “Where are you going? Somewhere boujee like Dubai I bet. Be careful though. I heard the girlies go there to–”

“Yeah, no. Dubai’s not on the list. Definitely somewhere sunny though” you smiled back, keeping it vague because the last thing you needed was people leaking your location, even if you did just make them sign an NDA. “We just need some time to recharge for our anniversary. That’s why I’m gonna teach you how to make Rêveur today.”

Tara clapped her hands together excitedly while Ember scribbled down things in her notebook. “Finally! I’ve been dying to learn. It’ll be so fun to say I helped make Rêveur. Iconic.”

“Uh, yeah...fun. We have to get everything exactly the same every single time though. No shortcuts. If one thing goes wrong the batch will be ruined and people will notice, trust.” 

Ember glanced up from her notebook with her pen mid air. “No pressure or anything, right?” she laughed. “Is there anything specific we should know?”

“Not trying to scare you,” you began with a reassuring smile. “But the oils can burn if you’re not careful so just keep an eye on them, okay? It’ll turn the whole batch rancid and you don’t want to smell that.”

Ember moved her pen across the paper, noting everything down with focus. “What’s the safe range?”

“Maybe 70 or 80 degrees” you recited, getting into your own element. “Anything higher and it’ll burn. Anything lower and it’ll separate. Just don’t turn the heat off completely unless it gets really out of hand.”

Tara was listening with wide eyes, but she looked confused as hell. “Wait..do we just..guess if it’s too hot or not? This is exactly why I switched my major to public relations. I’m more of a vibe person.”

“That...definitely explains a lot honestly” you joked. She cringed, catching your shade about the leaks. “Just follow Ember’s lead. She seems like she’ll be good at this.”

Just as you led them to the other room to start, Trent casually strolled in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips to which Tara let out a dramatic ‘aww’.

“So cute,” she cooed.

Trent leaned in close to your ear, whispering. “Fancy a train ride after this?” He pulled out his phone, showing the date at the top of his home screen, which featured a photo of your smiling face. 

“Maybe” you dragged the word out, trying to push him away from you because he was starting to distract you. “Go stand over there T. Every time you distract me I mess something up. Move.”

“Damn” Trent drawled, stepping back with a grin with his hands up in defeat. “Didn’t know I was a hazard.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back, refocusing your attention on the task before you. “Okay!” you said, clasping your hands together while looking at Tara and Ember, who were now watching you closely. “Starting with the base note blend…”

Both girls nodded as you continued to speak. Ember jotted something down in her notebook and Tara leaned in, determined to follow along closely and learn despite her initial confusion earlier. You grabbed the first vial and smiled to yourself.

After this, I can really relax. Seriously this time.

The lesson went a lot smoother than you expected. Ember was quick to learn and caught on easily. Tara was a little slower but seemed to be enjoying herself and asking questions to make sure she understood correctly. You had original apprehension, but everything felt like it was under control this time. Once everything was cleaned up and instructions were finalized, you dismissed your assistants for the day. Tara waved with enthusiasm and promised to remember everything she learned. Ember gave you a quick nod and smile before heading out as she typed away on her phone and disappeared through the door.

An hour later, you and Trent pulled up to an area that looked nothing like Lime Street.

“T…I thought you said we were going on the train?” you asked inquisitively. “This is just a building. I’m confused.”

Trent looked smug as he parked the car. “I said train ride, yeah? I didn’t say where or how.”

You gave him a side eye while unbuckling your seatbelt. “Nuh uh. This feels like a set up. What are you up to?”

Trent laughed as he got out of the car and jogged around to open the door on the passenger’s side. He extended his hand out to help you. “Baby relax. You’re gonna love it.”

You took his hand and creased your brows while narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not convinced. This looks like a place where someone would pull off a heist or something.”

“Nah. Nothing like that,” he reaffirmed while leading you to the building with your hands intertwined in his.

The moment you stepped inside, your skepticism turned into curiosity. The space was dimly lit and the faint sound of train wheels clicking on tracks played in the background. You adjusted your eyes and took in the sight of a perfectly crafted train interior that somewhat mimicked the train you took the day you ran into Trent for the first time.

Your jaw dropped. “No way…”

Trent squeezed your side, pleased with your reaction. “It’s an escape room.”

You spun your face at him, confused all over again. “An escape room? What does that have to do with–?”

“Look closer” he said, gesturing to a seat where a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses were carefully placed. “Ring any bells?”

The realization hit you like a freight train. “No. You didn’t…”

“I did,” his grin widened. “I figured it would be more fun than just taking the train again. Thought we could relive the day with a little twist, y’know?”

You looked around the room, your heart swelling with affection. “You had them recreate our meet cute? This is…”

“Romantic?” he finished your sentence smugly, proud of his accomplishment. 

“Cheesy as hell” you corrected him, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “But I love it.”

“Thought you might” he said, tugging you toward the seat with the hoodie. “Let’s see if we’re smart enough to get out of here.”

The first clue was tucked into the hoodie pocket. It looked like the same hoodie Trent wore the day you met him. A slip of paper read: 

What starts with the sun but ends with the moon?

You groaned, holding it up for him to see. “Okay..what does that even mean? The sky?”

Trent smirked and leaned against the seat like he knew the answer, but didn’t want to give it to you just yet. “Nah baby. Just think about it.”

You glanced back at the clue, still confused. “Um, I am thinking about it..I really don’t know. A sunset? Time?” You threw out ideas, suddenly remembering the cheeky comment you made about his hoodie and sunglasses that day. “Wait..is it an eclipse thing?”

“Close. Think simpler.”

Your mind churned before it finally clicked for you. “A day!” you blurted out. “Starts with the sun and ends with the moon.”

Trent nodded, grinning as he reached into a luggage rack to pull out an envelope. “I knew you would get it eventually.”

You snatched the envelope from his hand, rolling your eyes. The second clue had a small calendar drawn on it with a single number circled – 22. The day you first met. 

“Okay. Too predictable Trent..”

“Is it?” he asked. “Could just be the start of a combo…”

The two of you scanned the fake train car, piecing together the rest of the lock combination from the small details that were hidden throughout the room. There were train tickets tucked into a seat pocket, coordinates of London and Liverpool printed on a travel map, and a tiny key taped underneath a windowsill. After solving each clue, you ended up with 2206 as the final code.

“2206. What’s the 6 from?” you wondered out loud.

Trent smiled as he punched the code into the lock box near the door. “That’s the platform the train left from. London to Liverpool..platform six.”

Your jaw dropped again as the lock box opened. “How do you know that? You didn’t even get on at that stop.”

Trent shrugged and pulled you into a quick kiss. “That day is burned into my brain forever. Had to do my research.”

You shook your head and ran your fingers along his jawline lightly before opening the next compartment. “You really went all out for this. Kinda scared of what you have planned for our official anniversary.”

Inside the compartment was a miniature bottle of a fragrance. “Musk” you said, sniffing the vial thoughtfully. “This was in the escape room? T, did you take this from–”

“Nah, I had nothing to do with that one.” he interrupted, holding his hands up. “Just the universe messing with us again.” He took the bottle out of your hand and sniffed it. “Maybe we could add it as one of the last ingredients? And make it unisex so anyone can wear it..”

His suggestion made you smile while you watched him analyze the scent in a similar way he did with bergamot that fateful day on the train. “That’s...actually not a bad idea. But we need one more to balance it all out.” You didn’t have your notebook with you, so you quickly pulled out your phone to type it into your notes app. You reached for Trent’s hand to intertwine it with yours to pull him along to the next clue. “I can’t believe you had them do all of this for us..”

As you turned the corner, the scene shifted to a football themed section. There was a goalpost, a whiteboard, and lockers lining the wall. Trent’s eyes lit up instantly and you knew you lost him to his competitive side.

“Aight” he began, cracking his knuckles and stepping forward. “My time to shine.”

You stifled a laugh. “Baby you’re not on the pitch. It’s just an escape room.”

Trent smiled as he took in the sight of the room. “Doesn’t matter. I’m still gonna win.”

Amused by his determination, you egged him on. “Okay vice captain. Lead the way.”

The football themed section had Trent written all over it. The lockers were labelled with Liverpool legends like Gerrard and Dalglish. On the whiteboard, a series of Xs and Os formed a tactical setup with a question written above it:

What year did Liverpool win their first European Cup?

Trent snorted and crossed his arms, like the question was something ingrained in his memory. “Easy. 1977. Rome. Borussia Mönchengladbach.”

The board beeped as a hidden compartment clicked open and revealed a small key. You scoffed at him in disbelief. “How do you know that? You weren’t even born yet.”

“History baby,” he replied. “Can’t wear the badge without knowing where it came from.”

You handed him the small key, shaking your head. “Nerd.”

“Maybe. But I’m a nerd who just unlocked the next step.”

Trent slid the key into a lock on the side of a locker and the door swung open to reveal a small podium holding a mini golden football. Another note was propped up beside it that read:

Score a goal, but don’t forget to hit the crossbar first.

“Oh here we fucking go” you muttered. “They’re really feeding into your ego now.”

Trent grinned as he pulled you in for a kiss. “You could be supportive like a normal girlfriend…”

You laughed and cupped your hands around your mouth to slip into your best commentator impression, mocking him with your support. “The man with the golden touch..stepping up to the challenge of a lifetime.”

“Keep it up and I’ll miss on purpose.” he teased, setting up the ball.

“You won’t” you shot back. “I’ll boo you…”

Trent lined up his shot and took a few steps back. The ball sailed into the air and struck the crossbar with the only type of ease your boyfriend could accomplish.

“WOW WHAT A HIT!” you yelled, jumping up and down like you were in the Kop. “Alexander-Arnold with a stunning strike!”

Trent turned, grinning ear to ear as he pointed at you. “You’re not bad at that…but it’s not good either. Gotta work on the commentator voice.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and moved over to the makeshift goalpost. “Okay. Let’s try this then. I’m the keeper now.”

Trent gave you a curious look, wondering if you were serious, but when you didn’t move, his look turned into amusement. “You gonna try to stop me? Alright. No mercy baby.”

You clapped your hands and bounced on your toes like you saw keepers do on match days. “I’m channelling my inner Alisson Becker. You’re not getting past me T.”

Trent set the ball down again and shook his head at your antics, but he was enjoying every second judging by the smile that hadn't faltered from his face. He took a few steps back, focused and ready while you spread your arms dramatically across the goal.

“And it’s Y/N L/N in goal!” you yelled in your best – yet below average, commentator voice. “Can she keep Trent Alexander-Arnold from clinching the game?”

“Not a chance,” Trent whispered under his breath, smirking. You really thought he would take it easy on you but he didn’t. He didn’t have to try too hard and the ball flew into the net easily. You lunged for it, trying to make the save, but your foot did something weird, making you tumble to the floor and land on your side, groaning. Trent jogged over, trying and failing not to laugh as he crouched beside you.

“You okay baby?”

You rolled onto your back, squinting up at him while rubbing your hip. “Fuck. How does Ali do this? He makes it look so easy.”

Trent reached out a hand to lift you to your feet. “You have the heart for it..I’ll give you that.”

You took his hand to let him pull you up as you brushed yourself off. “Next time I’m saving it.”

“Next time, huh?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. “We’ll see. It’s game over for now, though.”

The final compartment snapped open with a thud, revealing a small envelope. Trent grabbed it, beaming as he opened it up. Inside was a handwritten note:

Congratulations on finding your way out! Here’s to your next adventure together.

Alongside the note were dinner reservations on the date of your official anniversary. You weren’t familiar with the restaurant, but the name sounded familiar – Lovebirds. Next to it, an itinerary to go to St. Barts, featuring photos of a private villa with direct beach access.

You blinked at the papers in Trent’s hand, struggling to process the details. “Wait..what is this?”

He turned the envelope toward you so that you could see it better. “Dinner plans for our anniversary. And St. Barts.” he confessed with a smile, still not faltering. “Private villa, just you and me. Direct beach access and no distractions.”

“You planned all of this?”

Trent laughed and folded the papers to tuck them back into the envelope. “Well I had some help, but yeah. Thought we deserved something special.”

You threw your arms around him and gave him a kiss. “I don't even know what to say. You’re too sweet.”

“Don’t say anything,” he murmured into your hair. “Just show up in your bikini.”

You laughed, pulling back to look at his face. “I love you..and I’m really glad you sat next to me on the train that day.”

Trent’s eyes softened as he played with the necklace around your neck. “Same here. I can’t imagine living life without you baby. I love you too.”

The two of you made your way back to the car, hand in hand as the sun started to set over the horizon to create a cotton candy sky. “What's next?” you asked.

“Let’s go eat and figure out where the night takes us?” He recommended. “Unless you wanna make another perfume note in the car..”

You burst out laughing and swatted at his chest. “You’re such a boy.”

---

The next few weeks passed by way too fast, but they were filled with happy milestones. When Ezzie and Ziggy’s 16th birthday rolled around, it was celebrated with Trent’s family instead of your parents. His mum and dad took over hosting duties and transformed their home into a comfortable space that was overflowing with kind heartedness and laughter. Celebrating with them felt more natural than it ever did in the cold confines of your parent’s picture perfect home. Trent’s parents took your siblings in without any hesitation, and treated them like they were their own children.

The day of their birthday kicked off with Ziggy’s signing day. He officially joined Liverpool’s U18 team. The dimpled grin on his face was infectious as he showed off his new kit. The back of his shirt proudly displayed “L/N” in bold lettering and the number he chose: 16. You assumed he chose it because he signed on the day of his birthday, but you really didn’t know for sure.

“Sixteen huh?” you mocked as he spun around in the room to make sure everyone could see. “Let me guess...some deep meaningful choice about this being your year or something?”

Ziggy was enjoying the attention and smirked. “Nah, not everything has to be deep. I just like the number.”

“He’s lying!” Ezzie interrupted. “It’s because Trent wears 66. He just changed one number.”

Ziggy glared at her and flung the kit to lay on his shoulder. “Damn. Just let me have this.”

“Bubby..” Ezzie said sweetly, tilting her head as she used a childhood nickname that always wound him up. “You can have it. Just not without me calling you out first.”

Before your brother could retort, Dianne’s voice floated in from the living room. “You two..let’s save the bickering for later. We’re celebrating, remember?”

Trent’s dad popped his head into the kitchen, tongs in hand. “Z, you think you have what it takes to make first team one day? Come outside, let’s see if you can get past me.”

“You? You’re too old.. I don’t wanna embarrass you at your own house.” Ziggy scoffed, heading toward the garden in disbelief. “You’re not even the best defender in this house right now.”

“That would be me,” Trent chimed in, leaning against the fridge while smiling.

“Nah, it’s me.” Tyler cut in, walking in the room with Marcel trailing behind him. “I’d be out there instead if I didn’t give it up for you.”

Marcel snorted. “Bro you haven’t defended anything since I was a baby.” 

You stood next to the counter, slicing a piece of cake. “A family full of stars here, huh? Football, fashion...and whatever Tyler is claiming these days.”

“Aye” Tyler interjected. “I’m a dad. And I work.”

“Do you? Because the girlies are saying PLG is a money laundering scheme” you raised your brow, genuinely asking and not trying to throw shade...or maybe you were throwing shade.

The whole house burst into laughter, Marcel’s being the loudest of all despite not doing much more than Tyler. You took a bite of the white chocolate raspberry birthday cake, savouring the sweet flavour while everyone scattered around the house to do their own thing. Your anxiety still existed, but seemingly melted away once you were surrounded by the people you cared about the most. You took another bite of cake, surveying the warmth and love filling the house.

I could get used to this. This is nice.

The days following the twins birthday were a blur of activity. Ezzie’s modelling career was in full swing, and her first campaign with Miu Miu took off. Your sister’s face now adorned billboards and screens in New York, Paris and London. She was kind of iconic for someone who had just turned 16, and you were living for it. Your mum had definitely ate her words, rightfully so. 

Meanwhile, Camille was splitting her time between Manchester, Paris, and Barcelona. Her relationship with Jules grew stronger with every passing day and the two of them were officially the most fashionable couple you knew. Camille’s voice hummed through the phone one day as you shuffled around your newly expanded wardrobe in you and Trent’s home. You were partially listening while you went through your clean laundry, trying to place everything in their new spot.

“I think Jules might be my soulmate” she gushed with her voice tinged with dreaminess that was very out of character for her. “I’ve been planning out outfits for the next month and he just gets it Y/N. He even coordinates with me sometimes. Who is this man?”

You froze mid fold, barely believing your ears. “Camille? Camille Saint-Clair??” you said slowly, dragging out her first name and surname for emphasis. “Is this my best friend? Soulmates and coordinating outfits with a man is crazy.”

She groaned but the dreaminess in her voice was still unmistakable, the girl was in love. “Shut up. I just– I may be falling for him a little. But I’m still me.”

“Anyway,” she added, trying to switch the subject back to you. “What about you and your lover boy? Where are you two going for your anniversary?”

You filled her in on Trent’s surprise escape room debacle and the upcoming trip to St. Barts, to which she simply responded:

“Don’t get pregnant. Use your butt..or mouth. Seriously. There’s an epidemic out here and the world doesn’t need anymore Aquariuses or Pisces.”

You giggled and shook your head. “Isn’t your dad a–” “Yeah, he is.. so trust me when I say that. Use your butt girl.”

Before you could fully recover from Camille’s out of pocket advice after ending the call, Trent walked into the bedroom shirtless with a towel slung over his shoulder from just getting out of the shower.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, stretching his arm behind his head as he sprawled out on the bed. 

You made your way to the bed and sat on top of him. “Camille,” you smirked, grazing your hands over his toned abdominal muscles. “She gave me some interesting advice for our anniversary.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Nooo” you sang, leaning over to kiss him. “I think we’ll have enough time for me to use all three holes.”

“Three holes? Huh??”

Before you could explain, Trent’s phone rang with a FaceTime call. You glanced at the screen to see Jude’s name flashing across the screen. You groaned and picked up the phone to answer, turning the phone toward Trent’s face, but Jude started talking before either of you could speak.

“Aye! What’s good bro? What are you up to?” Jude’s smile filled the screen.

“Just chilling,” Trent replied, sitting up slightly with his hand palming over your thigh, gently massaging your soft skin. “Why? What’s up?”

“Mate, I’m scheming. Me, Jobe, Toby – lad’s night out at the club. You down?” Jude waggled his eyebrows for emphasis, already sold on his own plan.

Trent shook his head. “Nah. Not tonight man.”

“Bro come on,” Jude groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance. “It’s been ages. Don’t do me like this. I’ll keep the girls away so Y/N won’t get mad.”

You cut in with a pointed tone. “Jude..he’s not going anywhere tonight.”

Jude squinted at the camera, trying to figure out where your voice was coming from, but he didn’t realize you were the one holding the phone until you turned the phone back to your face. “Y/N don’t tell me you’re one of those girls. He’s a grown man..let him have some fun.”

“Jude it’s the night before our anniversary” you noted firmly. “Fun doesn’t include babysitting you lot.”

“Babysitting? I’m not a child” Jude protested. “Well..maybe Jobe is but I’m capable of looking after myself.”

“The child in question can drive and cook..you can’t.” you quipped, turning the phone back to Trent. “Tell him, T.”

Trent laughed and shook his head. “Sorry man. Boss has spoken. You understand.”

Jude sighed dramatically, acting like somebody had just broken his heart into a thousand pieces. “Fine, ditch us for Y/N. But don’t come complaining when you realize what you’re missing. Proper memories being made without you, for sure!”

Trent smirked, raising his hands higher on your thigh which made you erupt into a fit of giggles. “I’m good with the memories I’m about to make. Next time though.”

“Ah, fair. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Happy anniversary by the way!”

At Les Notes d’Amour, things had fallen into a pleasant rhythm that you were comfortable with. Ember and Tara managed to keep the Rêveur production on track without any hiccups. There were no other unexpected leaks, no missed steps, and no drama – just the way you liked it. There were a couple of moments when Tara’s bubbly personality led her into long tangents about footballers or her latest obsession with matcha boba. You occasionally had to step in with a gentle “Tara.. focus,” but overall, the shop felt stable in their hands. 

With your anniversary creeping closer, you found yourself balancing preparations for your trip to St. Barts and figuring out how to celebrate with Trent before your flight. You hadn’t given him the watch yet, saving it for the perfect moment. 

But today was the day.

You stood in front of the mirror that night, adjusting your dress. As you zipped it up halfway, you heard Trent’s footsteps behind you.

“Need a hand?” he asked in a low voice.

You turned a little to look at him through the mirror. A flashback of him fucking you while you watched in the mirror flashed across your mind. “Are you offering to help or to undo it? Because last time you said you were going to help…”

“Both” he replied instantly, stepping behind you to slide the zipper the rest of the way up. His broad hands caressed your sides and he scanned your figure in the mirror. “We’ll just save the other part for later. Or we can have a quickie…”

The warmth from Trent’s breath tickled against your neck as his hands lingered on your waist to pull you flush against him. The smell of Rêveur and your perfume wrapped around you to create the most perfect, intoxicating scent that paired amazingly well together. His eyes met yours in the mirror and darkened, filled with a mixture of love and carnal desire.

“Don’t” you warned, swatting his hand playfully. “We have all night and next week for that.”

“I’m just appreciating the beautiful view” he said smoothly, running his hands up and down your sides. He leaned in closer to the crook of your neck, inhaling softly. “You smell so good. What did you decide to name this one?”

You smiled and adjusted the petaled drapes falling across your shoulders. “It’s called Vanille Étoilée.” You caught his gaze in the mirror and continued. “It means starry vanilla in French. Sweet like honeyed vanilla, warm like amber, but soft enough to stay on my skin for a long time like the stars in the sky. Thought it was fitting because it compliments Rêveur pretty well..”

“Vanille Étoilée” he repeated. Surprisingly the French words rolled off his tongue with ease despite his scouser accent. “I like it.” Trent dipped his head down to kiss the corner of your jaw and trailed the kisses down to your collarbone. “Smells…” He paused and placed another kiss on your skin while inhaling you again, “so fucking good.”

You turned around to press a hand to his chest and stepped back. “Okay..enough. You can’t just jump straight to dessert. Have some decorum.”

Stepping into Lovebirds felt like stepping into an ethereal fairytale. The outside world was replaced with an atmosphere that was enchanting. Golden lighting pranced off lush greenery that framed the private alcoves scattered throughout the room. Each one was designed to give diners a sense of secluded romance. There were ornamental branches stretched above with interwoven leaves and lights to give the ceiling a romantic glow. You could hear a subtle twine of acoustics playing a gentle tune to add to the ambiance.

Trent’s hand rested on the curve of your back and his fingers grazed the exposed skin. “This place is nice” he murmured in a whispered tone as his gaze shifted from one part of the room to another.

“Yeah, it is. The name is really fitting innit?” you replied, glancing up at him with a smile. The place truly did feel like it was designed with soulmates in mind. There were multiple details that echoed the love and connection shared between lifelong partners. You followed the host as they led you to a table nestled beside a trickling indoor fountain. 

The table may as well have been a piece of art itself. There was a delicate feather motif that ran along its edges and two menus were placed neatly on top of silky soft cloth. Both menus were embossed in gold lettering with your names, which caught you by surprise. Trent definitely had used up all his creativity with the escape room idea, so there was no way in hell he had any part in the decor for the table. But if it wasn’t him..who did?

The waiter approached minutes later with a carefully balanced tray of artfully crafted drinks.

“Good evening” he began with a warm smile. “To start, we have two cocktails inspired by our esteemed guests.” He set a golden hued drink in front of Trent first.

“This is the Golden Hour. It has a blend of whiskey, ginger beer, and a touch of citrus, topped with golden edible flakes. It’s got strength and finesse, much like Mr. Alexander-Arnold’s touch on the pitch.”

Trent tilted his head, amused and curious as he lifted the drink to inspect it. “Golden Hour?” he mused, swirling the drink slightly to watch the edible flakes diffuse across the liquid. “Can’t argue with that.”

“And for you” the waiter continued, placing a glass in front of you. “We have the Moonlit Muse. It’s a delicate mix of lychee, vanilla vodka, and champagne served with an iridescent shimmer. Sweet and complex, inspired by your work and artistry as a perfumer.”

You took a sip, feeling the sweetness of the lychee and fizziness of the champagne intertwine to create a perfect start to the evening. “This is incredible” you complimented with a smile. “Thank you!”

The food was just as impressive. Trent opted for a ribeye steak that was charred to perfection and served with truffle butter, garlic mashed potatoes, and seared shrimp. Your dish was a salmon fillet plated with saffron and champagne cream sauce that rested on a bed of wilted spinach and buttered baby carrots. There was a garnish of edible flowers on the plate, making it almost too pretty to eat. 

The chef approached your table shortly after you both finished eating. She was dressed in a cleanly pressed chef’s coat with her name embroidered elegantly on the chest. She clasped her hands in front of her.

“I hope the evening has been everything you hoped for lovebirds” she cheered in a joyful tone.

You blinked, staring at her for a minute before you realized she was the same chef from the private cooking class you had with Trent the day you made things official. “Wait..you’re the chef from the class we took last year!”

Her smile widened and she nodded. “Yes, that’s me. I didn’t think you would remember.”

“Of course I remember!” you exclaimed, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over you. “We nearly burned down your kitchen with our nonsense.”

“Best date we ever had so far. Hands down.” Trent added, smiling back at the chef.

“I can’t thank you two enough” The chef spoke proudly. “The night the video went viral I started getting all sorts of requests for catering, private events, cooking classes and it just snowballed from there. When this space became available.. I couldn't resist it.”

“Wow” you breathed, glancing around at the beautifully curated space with new appreciation. “That’s really amazing. This place is stunning.”

“Thank you” she responded sincerely. “I owe you two more than you know. That night wasn’t just a turning point professionally. It reminded me of why I love what I do. Seeing the joy on your faces that night..even covered in flour, was a reminder of what food can bring to people. I just wanted to say thank you..for everything.”

The waiter appeared again, carrying two perfectly risen soufflés. The delicate tops were dusted with powdered sugar and you could smell the faint aroma of chocolate wafting through the air. The chef grinned as she set the desserts in front of you. After taking a quick photo with the chef, you could finally dig into your soufflés.

“Enjoy lovebirds! Happy anniversary!” the chef cheered, holding a hand over her heart dramatically as she walked away to head back to the kitchen.

You scooped your spoon into the airy dessert. “Mmm, finally! This was so worth it. Best soufflé ever.”

Trent nodded in agreement, savouring his first bite. “Third time’s the charm, huh?”

After finishing dessert, you turned to Trent with a sly smile and reached into your clutch to pull out a carefully wrapped box. You slid the box across the table toward him. “This is for you..”

Trent’s curiosity piqued as he grabbed the box and unopened it with care to reveal the watch with the midnight blue dial and moon phase indicator. “Damn. This is nice!” he excitedly yelled out while clasping the watch onto his wrist. “What’s this thing on here?”

“It’s a moon phase indicator. So you don’t have to google when the full moons are anymore.”

Trent looked up at you, his brown eyes filled with adoration. “Not gonna lie. This might be the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

You rolled your eyes, assuming he was doing too much over a silly little watch, even if it was expensive. “T..it’s just a watch. I don’t think–”

“Nah. Not just a watch” he corrected you, calibrating the moon phase indicator with his hand. “I feel like I’m always buying gifts for everyone else..so this is nice. I love it. I love you.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile and stop the happy tears that were threatening to spill over your lash line. “Aww baby. Don’t make me cry in public. I love you too.”

Trent leaned over to give you a tender, soft kiss on your lips before pulling back, both of you smiling like idiots at each other. You giggled awkwardly and looked around.

“Sooo..um..where’s my gift?” you questioned him jokingly. “Not that this dinner wasn’t amazing but..”

Trent smirked and leaned back in his chair. “It’s at home. It’s being set up as we speak.”

After another hour of conversation, you finally headed back home to see what Trent had planned. When you made it back to the house, you hopped out of the car before Trent could even put it in park mode.

“Close your eyes,” Trent instructed you as you made your way into the house. You closed your eyelids while he led you up the stairs. “Don’t look yet.”

“I’m not looking!” you yelled, but you were willing your pupils to see through the thin skin of your eyelids.

“Alright, ready?” Trent spoke softly into your ear and positioned you in front of the bedroom door.

“Yes..” you replied impatiently, itching to open the door yourself. “Can I look?”

Trent nodded but he forgot your eyes were still closed, so you both stood there awkwardly for a minute before you spoke up again. “Umm..Trent??”

“Oh shit! I forgot.” He laughed, opening the door. “Yeah, open your eyes baby.”

When you opened your eyes, your breath caught. The bedroom was decorated with balloons that hovered near the elevated ceiling. Illuminated candles softly flickered and danced across the wall to cast shadows that felt alive, like they were celebrating along with you. The bedside table had a rose bouquet that was so large it was almost falling over. On the bed, a collection of gifts were neatly arranged in wrapping paper of your favorite colors, topped with curled and tied ribbons.

Your hand flew to your mouth and your eyes filled with tears. “Trent…”

He leaned into you to kiss you on your cheek. “Happy anniversary baby.”

As the scene washed over you, you traced your fingers over the silk ribbons on the gifts. “I only got you a watch and you did all of this? T this is way too much..”

“Nah, it’s not. Just showing how much I appreciate you.”

Smiling, you sat down on the edge of the bed and grazed your fingers over a smaller box that was tucked behind the others. “What’s this one?” you asked, reaching for it.

Before you could lift the lid, Trent’s hand shot out and snatched the box away from you with a quickness that caught you off guard and made you frown. “Nah! Not that one. You can’t open that yet.”

This box in particular was the engagement ring he was keeping hidden away for another year or two. Whoever was responsible for the setup must’ve accidentally mistaken it for an anniversary gift, nearly ruining the night all together.

You creased your brow and stood on your tippy toes to reach it. “Why not? What’s in it? Let me see!”

“Nope” he laughed as he moved it further out of your reach and nestled it into a drawer. “You’ll ruin the surprise.”

“What surprise?” you questioned him, trying to reach toward the drawer without him realizing, but he was faster than you. He gripped your hand mid air and pulled you into him. You instinctively put your arms around his shoulders and his lips found yours to silence anymore of your protests. You pulled away from him, grinning as you bit your bottom lip. “You’re trying to distract me from that box…”

His face nestled into the crook of your neck and he nibbled on the skin above your collarbone. “Is it working?” 

Your hum of approval melted into a soft sigh as Trent’s lips continued to brush against the delicate curve of your neck. With each kiss, he trailed down slower to map out coordinates of love. His hands trailed up from your hips to the bare curve of your back under the silky fabric of your dress. He thumbs padded massaging circles on your skin that made it hard to think about anything other than the feeling of him against you.

“Maybe…” you mumbled in a quiet voice.

“Good” Trent continued peppering you with kisses. “Let me finish distracting you then.”

Trent’s hands traced over the zipper of your dress, slowly unzipping it until the silky fabric was tossed to the floor. “You’re so fucking beautiful” he muffled against your skin, brushing over the laced trim on your panties.

“You’re talking too much” you whined, arching into him to silently beg for more than what he was giving you at the moment.

“Yeah?” His fingers hooked under the lace trim, pulling them down to reveal your slick core. “You want more?”

You nodded, “Please.”

Trent kissed his way down your stomach, nibbling on your skin with his hungry lips. When he finally reached your pussy, he paused, glancing up at you with a cocky look while licking his lips. 

“Trent” you panted, gripping the sheets as his breath fanned over where you really wanted him. “Don’t tease me. I need you..”

“Ah..so impatient” he smirked, kissing your inner thigh. He flicked his tongue out, licking a stripe between your pussy that made your back arch off the bed. “Let me hear you baby.”

“Shit” you gasped, gripping his head with your hands as his tongue started working against your clit in a slow, intentional pace that had you squirming and arching underneath him.

“Stay still” he commanded, gripping your thighs to pin you in place. You tried to comply, but you couldn’t stop trying to push your hips against him to chase your high. 

The flicks of his tongue and pressure from him lightly suctioning your clit made you moan his name loudly and buck into him. Just as you were about to reach the point of no return, Trent’s phone rang loudly on the bedside table, cutting through your bliss immediately.

“Fuck me” you groaned, pulling a pillow against your face in frustration.

“We’re getting to that part…” he joked, already pulling back from your core to glance at the screen. “It’s Jude.”

“I really don’t care who it is,” you snapped, pulling at his arm to bring his attention back to you and the orgasm you desperately needed. “Do. Not. Answer.”

He pondered for a second like he was torn, but then the phone started ringing again and you could see the gears turning in his head. “I’ll just tell him I’m busy real quick.”

“Trent,” you warned in a dangerously low voice. “I swear if you answer that fucking phone right now…”

“Alright! I’m not answering it” He declined the call, tossing the phone aside. “Happy now?”

“Ask me again after you make me c– oh my god, yesss” your words quickly turned into moans of pleasure as he dove back in, tongue on your clit and fingers curling and thrusting inside of you.

“You taste so fucking good” he whispered, still lapping against your clit with vigor. “Cum for me baby.”

You whimpered his name when his tongue danced against your clit faster. You felt the pressure build and snap all at once before you could warn him, but he didn’t remove himself from your clit and kept licking until you were squirming from overstimulation.

“Mmh, T..I can’t” you begged, pushing against his shoulders. When he finally rose from your core, he licked his lips and trailed kisses back up to your lips.

“You good?” he asked, kissing your neck. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me” you replied, pulling at one of his belt loops so that he would get the hint to take his clothes off. His clothing quickly joined your dress on the floor and he stroked his dick a few times before pushing into your slick folds, slow and steady so that you could adjust to the girth before he started moving.

“Goddamn” he muttered through tight teeth. “You’re so fucking tight. Relax baby.”

“I can’t” you moaned back, gasping for air in between thrusts. “F-fuck. I’m gonna cum again.”

The desperation you had for him made him laugh, stroking his ego as he stroked into you, but it quickly turned into a groan when you rolled your hips to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep doing that.” he stuttered, gripping your hips to guide you. “Fuck, baby. Just like that....good girl.”

The wet, slick sounds of your bodies moving in tandem filled up the room, dramatized by your breathless moans of pleasure. The tightness in your core threatened to snap and Trent’s movements became more frenzied as his fingers gripped deep into your skin.

“I love you. I love the way you fuck me” you needily moaned, trying to push him over the horizon. “Cum in me. Please Trent? Fill me up.”

“Shit” he hissed, faltering his hips for a split second to force himself to slow down. “I can’t baby. We said–”

You rocked up against him so more of his cock filled you. The way his jaw clenched in concentration and the way his body shook let you know he was fighting against the inevitable. “Pleaseee. I want it.”

“Fuckkkk” he groaned, holding you in place as he tried to gain control. He moved his hips more slow and shallow. “You’re squeezing me.”

You whimpered and raked your nails down his back as your pussy began to flutter and milk him. “Oh my god, I love you” you moaned over and over again as you came undone around his dick. He filled you up shortly after, his control shattering like glass with one last groan.

“I love you too” he muttered between a kiss attack on your lips. “You’re my everything..my forever.”

“Is that so?” you cooed, wrapping your arms around him to cherish the moment.

While you were enjoying your alone time with Trent, both of your phones were being bombarded with calls and notifications. The internet was set ablaze once again. A little too literally this time around:

SpillTheBeansUK 🚨 Y/N L/N, girlfriend of Liverpool star Trent Alexander-Arnold, is at the center of chaos tonight after her boutique Les Notes d’Amour burned to the ground in suspected arson. Arrested? None other than her assistant Ember F, and her EX-BOYFRIEND Aaron C – a shady ex-businessman who’s now dating Ember. 😳🔥 Coincidence? We’re not so sure… 👀

astrologychica99: omg remember when that tarot reader mentioned the tower card in the comments? THEY WERE RIGHT!!

PerfumeObsessed32: does this mean my bottle of rêveur isn’t coming?? i’ve been waiting!!!

BaddieFromBrum: not y’all worried about your rêveur order when her shop just literally burned down.. you’re so unserious

ELovesChaos: whoever’s writing her life needs to chill. give her a break i beg!

EauDeGossip: imagine finding out your ex and your assistant are plotting against you? i’d be in jail!

FragranceFanatic89: does anyone know if she’s okay? is she safe?

MadMadness: so ember went from assistant to arsonist?? girl.. seek help!!

DidUCatchIt: can we talk about the name ember? the signs were there people! 

scousergirl4lyfe: if I was Y/N i’d never trust a single soul again..like ever. not even trent

IconicAndTired: not STB becoming the BBC of mess 😭 i live for this page

WriterPlsChill: WTF?!?!

4AMTHOUGHT: end of an era 💔😭

-

What was supposed to be a peaceful and quiet night before a romantic holiday, was cut short by frantic banging on the door. Trent froze and looked around, not expecting anyone at this hour. “What the fuck?”

“Who is that?” you asked, startled by the sudden noise.

“No fucking clue. Did you order something?” he asked back, taking a quick glance over his shoulder.

“No...”

Both of you quickly sat up to get dressed in more comfortable clothing but the banging didn’t stop. While descending the stairs, muffled voices became clearer – more familiar to the ear. Trent unlocked the door cautiously, only for it to fly open with Camille and Jude barrelling in.

“Are you okay?!” Camille’s voice cracked as she reached for you, wrapping you into her arms tightly.

“Huh? I’m fine! Why are you acting so weird?” you asked with a pounding heart.

Jude’s usual playful personality wasn’t there and was replaced by a serious expression instead, like he took pity on you. “Mate..she needs to sit down” he whispered to Trent, who was looking increasingly tense.

“For what? What’s going on?”

Before Jude could answer, headlights and blue flashes from a police car flooded through the windows in an ominous pattern. 

When the uniformed officer arrived at the door, he stood solemnly in the doorway. “Is Y/N L/N here?”

Your mouth went dry. “Um..yeah. That’s me” you said softly, stepping forward despite Trent’s attempt to hold you back.

“Sorry to inform you Miss L/N..but your store was destroyed in a fire tonight. It’s been ruled as suspected arson.”

The words hit you like a bus. You weren’t able to process the sentence the officer just delivered. “My store?” you whispered, repeating as if that would make the truth hurt any less. Your knees wobbled and Trent’s arm shot out to steady you. “No…” you added, voice trembling. “That’s not possible. I was literally just there the other day.”

The officer glanced at Trent, hesitating before continuing. “I’m sorry Miss L/N. There’s no saving it. The building is completely gone.”

The moment he ended his sentence the air was knocked out from your lungs. You felt nothing. Suddenly your legs couldn’t support you anymore. You collapsed into Trent’s chest and a broken cry tore from your throat. You felt your heart shatter into sharp shards that could never be repaired or mended. “No, no, no” you repeated, clinging onto Trent to keep you tethered to reality, but his presence didn’t do much to stop the slurry of cruel, twisted dark thoughts emitting from your brain.

“Baby breathe” Trent coached in a low, shaky voice. “I got you.”

You couldn’t do that. Every breath suddenly felt like you were inhaling smoke, suffocating under the weight of words that just kept getting worse the more the officer spoke. Les Notes d’Amour – the place you poured your entire heart and soul into – was reduced to nothing more than a pile of smoky, pulverized ash. All thanks to a series of carefully crafted events that was supposed to be your ‘serendipity’.

It didn’t seem like that anymore after the officer said the names. 

“Aaron Caldwell was arrested at the scene, along with Ember Flanagan. Your other assistant, Tara, was found safe at home.”

Your body immediately went rigid. “Aaron?” you croaked, pulling away from Trent.

The officer nodded with a grim expression. “Yes ma’am. It appears he and Miss Flanagan conspired on this together.”

He wasn’t supposed to be able to get to you again, or so you thought. Camille told you she made sure of it. His name carried so much pain that you vowed to never say it again, but this whole situation caught you off guard.

“He wasn’t supposed to..” you whispered in a broken voice. “He wasn’t supposed to be able to get to me again.” You turned to Camille who was now frozen with tears in her own eyes. “Camille you promised me!”

Her face looked guilty, but she had nothing to be guilty for; it honestly wasn’t her fault.

“I didn’t know about Ember,” she stammered. “I didn’t know they were together. I’m so sorry.”

Her apology didn’t register in your ears. Nothing did. Your chest heaved up and down as the panic finally set in fully. Every bad memory, every moment of manipulation and betrayal crushing you all at once. You couldn’t see nor could you hear. All you felt were the walls of life encasing you in misery now that your dream had erupted in flames. You heard distorted voices of Jude, Camille, and Trent trying to comfort you, but their voices barely registered over the one screaming at you in your mind.

Camille crouched in front of you with tears streaming down her face. “Y/N..you’re not alone, okay? We’re here.”

Of course her words were meant to be comforting, but it only made things worse as the ache in your chest grew tighter. “I don’t care!” you screamed, yanking your hands away from hers. “None of this matters anymore! He ruined everything! This would’ve never happened if I never–”

“Baby stop” Trent’s voice was breaking now too. He pulled you into him again, whispering against your ear. “He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s arrested.”

You pulled away, tears streaming down your anguished face as you stared at Trent with a broken, jaded expression. “I’m not talking about Aaron” you choked out, raw and heavy.

“I’m talking about you.”

thank you for reading! please leave thoughts in my inbox 💋🤍

song inspo:

[schumi-nadal]

Wow, I didn't think that post would get me even more hate to be honest 😅

First of all, I wasn't talking about ALL Carlos fans but about some "fans" (you can't call them like that, not after the really harsh words I received) who came into my asks when i asked nothing: I never was mean about Carlos, i didn't even defend Charles. I only posted 2-3 things related to this Charlos gate or whatever the fandom is calling it.

Here are some of the posts in questions:

After the first one, I received insults (anons and non anons, I don't know what is worst, that's what I was talking about them being younger and not knowing how the Schumi era and baby Shumi era were, (the non-anos were 17-18) because people misunderstood it (or understood what they wanted to understand).

After one or two more posts after the end of the race, it escalated very quickly, I received death threats! That's very serious! How can it come to this for a FUCKING sport? There are more serious things in life!

So, yeah, I was quite pissed after that.

Also, I didn't even defend Charles in my post, rereading now and I undertand I may have sound like I did but I'm French and I may have translated word by word what i wanted to say (it's a bit complicated but we sometimes use "you" to talk about people + ourserlves in some sketchy expressions). Anyway, what he said was definitely inappropriate and very "childish" in a way. Those words should had been spoken in private with his team and Carlos, not in front of million of people; and I think if FIA penalised swear words, they should start looking at those kind of statements.

Also, for those saying that I would be the kind of person to insult their favorite driver(s), you don't know me, you can even check my blog if you have nothing more interesting to do (lol), I never insulted anyone like some people do in f1blr. We can dislike or even hate a driver with our whole being, that's ok, for each their own I guess. We can't love everyone, you have the right to defend your favs, that's our choice too, but don't go and roast people when they didn't even say something wrong in the first place. (again, i hope those anons are reading it)

I never got haters before today (just one a few months ago with tennisblr but it was more a troll more than anything else) I usually don't interract a lot because I don't like conflicts but receiving multiple insults for something I can't control: I'm not Charles, I can't control what he says, I'm not a Carlos hater neither, i'm just here, blogging and reblogging stuff I love, mostly sports, sometimes with my particular sense of humor.

Nobody is perfect for sure, and I'm sorry if some of you thought I was just calling out Carlos or defending Charles. He may be one of my favourite drivers, just like other drivers can be yours: all of them are not flawless and we may continue to like them or not after different sorts of situations, that's up to us.

To finally finish my thesis (sorry if you're still reading), I didn't know that I would be so stressed on tumblr one day (call me a sensitive person) but this website is my sanctuary, I hope it will stay like that for a very long time but you can't be appreciated by the whole world, I lost some of my mutuals and i accept that. This morning's messages went too far and that's not normal to say thing like that, no matter how peacecul I am, I had to call them out. Also, on my other fandoms, you can share thought without (or almost) getting attacked verbally, that's sad that it's not the same anymore here, but yeah, football is the same.

You can choose to answer or not, I won't block anyone because I don't feel the need to, opinions can be shared but respectfully, I would be happy to talk more if some of you are up to.

So, I don't know what to add, have a great end of the season, everyone!

i don't know if everyone who reblogged or commented can see it when I reblog it so i'm tagging y'all: @midesastremanifiesto , @janesurlife , @gaypoetsblog , @katarf1a , @chaitalinath , @danieldrivesfast , @landhoe-norris , @eightsixtiism

One thing is funny about being insulted by all those Carlos "fans" (won't call them real fans tbh he deserves way better than toxic people): I was already watching F1 that they were not born, if you think that Charles was shitty today, just remember we had Michael Schumacher as the most dramatic queen ever and Sebastian Vettel was a little Gremlin at some points. REAL FANS WERE NOT FIGHTING FOR THAT!

[jesuis-assez]

We know that Lucy calls Tim babe (I refuse to use past tense I’m in denial lol), if you could have your way, what would Tim call Lucy as a pet name? #ChenfordChats

Hmm... I think I'd melt if he called her 'Baby' or 'Sweetheart' I have a soft spot for those ones. I don't know what that's about. I don't want to go there 🤣

And if I think of moments where those terms of endearments could've been used:

6x04:

When he rushed to the hospital and comforted her by touching her head ever so gently. Him softly telling her, "My god, you didn't have to take my hero suggestion so literally" If we were to replace "my god" with "sweetheart" or "baby" ?? 👌

6x06: ( Everyone put your pitchforks down and hear me out ) 🤣

If he said "I'm sorry, baby" or 'sweetheart' right before kissing her forehead. Although, I'm not sure how it would have fit exactly in the scene. But, I wouldn't object to it. It actually was one of my favourite scenes of theirs in season six. It had everything for me. It ripped me apart emotionally and left me wanting more. I loved it, no sarcasm here. I'm being genuine.

The scene itself is already packed with so much angst. But, then there would be them holding hands, " I'm sorry, [term of endearment]" and a forehead kiss in there. We're already on the ground dying and that would just finish us off.

In 6x03:

Lucy is over preparing for her detective exam with Tim being so amazing and supportive.

What he said here was truly enough and It doesn't matter so much that a sweetheart wasn't at the end of him saying 'yourself', but I would've loved it even more. I thought him saying that to her was a huge thing to say, coming from someone who ALWAYS needs to feel in control.

Because Lucy was so far in her head with it. So much that she had been projecting all of her self-doubt onto Tim. She couldn't see that he was being supportive, because it's not like her parents were ever supportive of her career. She's never had that support.

Yes, Lucy. And not even yourself, either.

That's what she was doing. Listening to that voice in her head telling her that she isn't good enough. That she's not ready and she can't do it. And Tim being her number 1 supporter was there reminding her not to do that. After all... he had taught her not to.

And to see her going back into that mind-set, to see Lucy filling herself with all that self-doubt again? To second guess herself again... It must be hard to watch someone you love, spiral like that. To try and help them through it and no matter what you say or do, it only pushes them further to burning out.

I focused heavily on season 6 for examples. Even if he were just to say, "Are you okay, baby?" I am aware that he said 'baby' to Isabel before (When she got shot in the head) but, that doesn't mean shit here 🤣 It's obviously a term he has been comfortable with using in the past. I don't see why he wouldn't use it again, unless he were to come up with something specially for Lucy. (What I am hoping for)

If he were to actually use 'sweetheart' that would also fit well for Lucy, for how kind-hearted she is and has been to him.

I do hope that Tim might use something that we've never heard before. *fingers crossed* for this one. It won't matter if he doesn't. I'm ALMOST sure whatever endearment he comes up with (if he even does) some of us will probably pass out on the spot *raises hand* Me. I'd-- I'd do that. Ok, I might (very unlikely)

But what most likely would happen is what usually happens. I'll either be internally screaming or I'll sit there on the spot inaudibly screaming 'Ahhhh' while pointing.

I'm hoping it would be something that's unique to their relationship. Or at least Lucy. I'd be so on board for that! I am a sucker for those kinds of nickname/endearments, too.

Y'know, something similar to when she was his rookie and he would incessantly call her 'boot'.

Thank yooooou for sending me this ! I may have put waaay too much thought into this. I'm incapable of answering without talking extensively about it. This ask was a lot of fun 💖🤭