#quietly adding notes to my google docs

[enha-stars]

oh i’m having major sunghoon thoughts rn 🫠🫠

[ihaznoclue]

Hello there

May I request some nightmare Fluff with Donatello and Raphael?

I love your stuff <3

Thank you if you do this

Hope you take care of yourself and have a good day or evening! ^^

Pairings -> Donatello, Raphael x Reader

Warnings -> Nightmares

Note -> Reader has a nightmare so they go to their boyfriend for help

Genre -> Angst to Fluff

A/N - Not proof read also this took a while to get into my head, and I used Google docs to help me do this

Donatello

The only sound in the dark of night in the sewers was the distant hum of Donatello's lab's. Trapped in a nightmare, You tossed and turned in your sleep. Shadows whispered your name, creeping closer every second, as dark, twisted figures loomed over you.

With a gasp, you suddenly shot upright, heart racing, eyes wide, and drenched in cold sweat. The nightmare lingered, the images still vivid. You stumbled out of bed, your mind foggy and unsettled. Quietly, you made your way down the winding corridors of the lair, trying to shake off the panic.

Donatello was bent over a workstation in the lab, deep in concentration on a project. He was fiddling with a device that whirred silently, and his goggles were resting on his head. His focus was sharp, his fingers moving quickly as he worked, but before it could register as strange, he heard footsteps.

Still clearly scared, you walked into the lab. You were searching for someone or something to comfort you, and your eyes were slightly widen. Donnie knew something was off.

"Name?" Donatello spoke in a kind but slightly worried tone. "Everything okay?"

Your lips quivered, unsure of how to describe the nightmare that was still bothering you and felt too real. Not believing your voice would be effective, you swallowed hard.

Donnie put down the tool he was using and focused entirely on you. "Come here," he asked quietly, his deep voice a calming presence amid the stormy feelings enveloping you. He indicated the chair by his desk. "Talk to me."

With your hands clinging together and your face still showing signs of panic, You took a step closer. "It's nothing at all. I simply had a bad dream."

Donatello's forehead furrowed. Even though he knew there was more to it, he chose not to pursue it. He took out a chair and gave the seat besides him a pat. "Take a seat. It's all right. Here, you're safe."

After a brief moment of hesitation, You sat down, the warmth of Donnie's presence relieving some of the worry that still hung over you. Donnie was often a bit of obsessed with perfection and obsessed with what he was doing, but he was very attentive of those who were important to him.

He offered you a blanket that was slung over a nearby chair and placed it over your shoulders. "You know, you can always come to me if something’s on your mind," he added calmly. "Nightmares, bad days, anything."

You nodded, finding some tiny comfort in your boyfriends quiet company. Donnie was patient and didn't rush you, giving you the time you required. A few long seconds later, Donnie spoke again, his tone steady yet gentle.

"How about you spend some time here? Whatever helps, we can chat or not talk."

With a slight nod, Your shoulders somewhat relaxed. Sensing that words might not be helpful, Donnie just remained with you. Maintaining a composed, steady demeanour, he drew up an extra chair and sat besides you. The quiet murmur of the equipment and the mellow buzz of the lab turned into a soothing lullaby.

Your breathing eventually slowed, the nightmare's lingering effects beginning to lessen. The silence surrounding you was comforting as you leaned against Donnie. Donnie put his hand on the back of your chair in a comforting gesture.

A sense of security that only Donatello's silent understanding could offer as your eyes fell shut.

Donnie muttered, "You're safe," as though it were an assurance.

After that, You eventually fell back into a sound sleep without nightmares, the lab's soft hum serving as a lullaby to get you through the night.

Raphael

You had been tossing and turning in your sleep, trapped in a nightmare that left you gasping for air, the shadows of your dreams clinging to you like a suffocating fog. With a small cry, you woke up, heart racing, body trembling from the remains of the terrifying dream.

Unable to get rid of the uneasiness and anxiousness, You quietly left your room, the lair's dim corridors feeling more chilly and deserted than usual. You headed to Raphael's room, the one location where you always felt secure.

After arriving at the door, you paused for a second before pounding gently. Even though you were aware that Raph was a night owl and frequently stayed up late, you were nonetheless nervous

When he heard the knock, Raphael, who had been reading a book while relaxing on his bed, looked up. When he recognised the person at his door, his eyes grew softer. He said, "Hey, kid," with a faint undertone of worry. "Something wrong?" A nickname he always called you

A bit uncomfortable, You paused and rubbed the back of your neck. "A nightmare struck me. I was unable to get back asleep."

Raphael's face changed as soon as he saw the pain in your eyes. He propped himself up on his elbows and put the book aside. "Nightmare, huh?" he asked in a tone that was uncharacteristically soft. "Well, come on in."

Still with the dread of the nightmare eating at your head, You entered his bedroom. Unsure of what to do, you stood at the door for a while, but Raph's constant presence was already soothing.

"I just... I can't get it out of my head," You whispered.

Despite being known as a tough guy, Raph had a soft heart for the people he loved. In an easy but effective invitation, he patted the spot on the bed next to him. "It's alright. Come on over here. Do you want to discuss it?"

You gave a headshake. You didn't want to speak the words out or relive the nightmare. All you needed was comfort, something to slow your rushing thoughts. Raphael knew, and without more word, he drew the cover back gently, allowing you to pass.

"Just sit with me for a bit, alright?" Raph spoke softly, in a calming, deep voice. "I’ll make sure you feel safe."

You gave a nod, appreciating the quiet and the comfort of Raph's steady, grounded presence. You then climbed on Raph's lap as you got comfortable and tried to calm your breathing.

With a firm and protective motion, Raphael wrapped the blanket around you. "You're doing fine. His voice was low and comforting as he whispered, "You're safe here." "The nightmare has ended. You've returned to the real world."

With a trembling breath, You felt your muscles loosen up a bit. The words "Thanks, Raph," were muttered. "I... I don’t know what I would’ve done without you."

Raph gave a small, reassuring grunt, settling back against the headboard, keeping the warmth of his presence near. "You don’t need to worry about that," he replied with a faint smirk, though his eyes were compassionate. "I got your back, always. Just relax, alright? You’re not alone."

The calm hum of the lair and the subtle rustle of the blankets were the only sounds for a while. You soon felt your body relax thanks to Raph's steady presence by your side, which served as a reassuring anchor. The storm inside your chest seemed calm by the warmth of his words, the thoughtfulness of his actions, and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"Go back to sleep, kid," Raph murmured after a few moments, his palm briefly settling on your back in a reassuring rub. "You’re gonna be fine. I’m here."

You nodded once more, leaning more against Raph for safety as you felt sleep slowly overtake you. His warmth, his solid presence, was the perfect counter to the remnants of the nightmare.

Soon enough, You breathing evened out, your mind quieting, and the nightmare faded into nothing but a distant memory. In the safety of Raphael’s room, you found calm once more, knowing that whatever shadows tormented them at night, Raph would always be there to help you face them.

You fell asleep, this time fearlessly, after having that thought.

-A<3

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | Chapter Fifteen | I Love You

✿ read the full hide story here ✿

pairing: joe burrow x riley carter (oc) word count: 9.2k-ish requested: nope

content note: this chapter includes references to a serious football injury and the emotional impact of recovery. while nothing graphic is described, the injury and its aftermath are discussed in detail. take care while reading. 🤍

📝 this story is only posted on wattpad and tumblr under miss_delaney. if you see it anywhere else, it’s been stolen. 🚫 do not repost, translate, or share my work without permission. 🌻 requests: closed! 💌 want to be added to the taglist? drop a comment or message me.

author’s note: surprise! 🎉 i literally did zero real work this week and just wrote this instead. priorities. hope y’all love it as much as my google doc did. let’s talk about it!! 💬🫶

Taglist: @wickedfun9 @starsyoongi @amiets2 @palmettogal508 @throwaway12356123 @lilfreakjez @destinyg237

Riley sees Robin Burrow near baggage claim and just knows. She looks exactly like the pictures on Joe's phone—tired but alert, scanning faces until she finds Riley's.

Riley's still in her leather jacket from the show, dragging her carry-on behind her. She's not tired yet—too wired from everything that's happened in the last four hours.

"Riley?" Robin approaches first, and there's immediate warmth in her voice despite the circumstances.

"Mrs. Burrow." Riley feels suddenly awkward, like she should hug this woman she's never met but who drove here in the middle of the night for her. "Thank you so much for coming. I can't believe you—"

"Don't mention it," Robin says, pulling her into a quick hug. "Call me Robin. Jimmy's outside with the car."

"How is he?" Riley's voice catches slightly. "Have you heard anything since—"

"He texted around midnight," Robin says. "They're flying back to Cincinnati. Should be home around seven in the morning."

Riley nods, relief flooding through her that he's okay enough to text.

"Excuse me?"

They all turn. A girl who can't be more than nineteen is standing a few feet away, phone in hand, looking nervous but excited.

"Are you Riley Carter? From The Rambles?"

Riley's heart sinks. She can see Jimmy outside through the glass doors, standing by the car with the engine running, clearly ready for a quick exit.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Oh my god, I love your music so much! Could I maybe get a quick picture? I'm so sorry, I know it's late and weird, but I'm a huge fan—"

"I'm so sorry, honey," Robin steps in before Riley can respond, "but Riley's had a long night and I need to get her home. Maybe another time?"

The girl's face falls slightly. "Oh! Of course, I'm sorry! I hope everything's okay with your family emergency!"

Riley's stomach drops. Right. Her "family emergency."

"Thanks," she manages as Robin guides her toward the exit where Jimmy is waiting.

"Thank you so much," Riley says quietly as they walk quickly toward the car.

"No sense making it easier for them," Robin replies. "They'll have enough to work with already."

Jimmy opens the door for them, and Robin slides into the passenger seat while Riley gets in the back.

Jimmy pulls away from the curb, and Riley slumps against the backseat, relief washing over her that Robin stepped in. She's in Cincinnati. Joe's hurt. And by tomorrow, everyone will know she's here—but at least that fan interaction won't be part of the story.

* * *

The car is quiet for the first few minutes, just the sound of the highway and the radio playing softly. Riley stares out the window at the empty Cincinnati streets, still trying to process that she's actually here.

"Long night?" Robin asks, turning slightly in the passenger seat.

"Yeah." Riley's voice is hoarse. "I was on Colbert, to perform, and then I saw..." She stops, swallows hard. "I just did the song and left. Didn't even do the interview."

"You just left?" There's something in Robin's voice���not judgment, but understanding that this was a big deal.

"Yeah. I don't know anyone's number and obviously he wasn't going to be able to answer his phone and Sarah wasn't answering so I didn't know what to do." Riley runs her hands through her hair. "I've never been through anything like this before. I didn't know how bad a wrist injury was or what it meant and I just couldn't sit there and talk about my tour like nothing happened. I had to get here."

Jimmy glances at her in the rearview mirror. "That's a big thing to walk away from."

Riley shrugs, but her voice gets quieter. "I had to be here."

Robin turns to look at her fully now, and Riley can tell she knows it's not just TV. It's career stuff, tour promotion, everything she's supposed to be doing right now. 

"Your people were okay with you leaving?," Robin asks. 

"My guys are the best. They've had my back since we were kids." Riley shifts in her seat, pulling her jacket tighter. "I just kept watching the replay, you know? The way he went down. I've never seen him get hurt before."

"It's hard to watch," Robin says quietly.

"I didn't know what to think. Is a wrist injury bad? Like, really bad? I know nothing about football injuries." Riley's voice gets smaller. "I just saw him holding his arm and knew something was wrong."

"Wrist injuries can be tricky," Robin says carefully. "But for a quarterback..." Jimmy catches her eye in the rearview mirror. "You did the right thing coming here."

"I hope so," Riley says quietly. "Sometimes I feel like I just make things more complicated for him."

"He's been happier," Jimmy says simply, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "We can tell."

Riley feels something warm in her chest. "He makes me happy too. Even when he's being stubborn."

Robin glances at Jimmy. "That's our boy. Wonder where he gets the stubborn from."

Jimmy just shakes his head, smiling slightly.

The car gets quiet again, but it's a comfortable quiet now. Riley lets her eyes drift closed, feeling the exhaustion starting to creep in now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

"Almost there," Jimmy says as they turn into Joe's neighborhood, and Riley recognizes the familiar streets even in the dark.

* * *

Riley unlocks the front door with her own key, stepping aside to let Robin and Jimmy in first. The house is dark and quiet, exactly as Joe left it before flying to Baltimore.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Riley says, flipping on the living room lights. "Let me get changed real quick and wash off this stage makeup, then I'll make y'all some coffee and a snack if you're hungry."

She's already heading toward the stairs, moving through Joe's space with the easy familiarity of someone who belongs here.

"Take your time, honey," Robin calls after her.

Left alone in the living room, Robin and Jimmy look around, noticing changes since their last visit. There are subtle signs of Riley's presence—a guitar case leaning against the wall, a small keyboard setup in the corner near the window. Everything still neat and organized the way Joe likes it, but with touches that show Riley's presence is more than just visiting.

"She has a key," Jimmy observes quietly.

"And her own clothes here," Robin adds, noting the casual way Riley mentioned getting changed.

Upstairs, Riley moves quickly through Joe's bedroom to the dresser where she keeps a drawer of her own things. She pulls out soft joggers and an oversized sweatshirt, then heads to the bathroom to scrub off the layers of TV makeup. When she looks in the mirror afterward—face clean, hair loose, no stage persona left—she takes her first real breath since seeing Joe get hurt.

When she comes back downstairs ten minutes later, she looks completely different. Gone is the polished performer from the airport; in her place is just Riley—makeup-free, comfortable, real.

"Now I feel like myself again," she says to Robin and Jimmy, padding into the kitchen in bare feet. "Much better. Coffee time."

She moves around the kitchen with easy confidence, pulling mugs from the cabinet, finding the expensive coffee beans Joe splurges on, starting the machine.

"You don't have to wait on us," Robin says from the doorway.

"I want to," Riley says simply, already pulling things from the refrigerator. "Besides, I need to keep my hands busy or I'll go crazy thinking about him."

She finds cream and pulls out one of Joe's breakfast meal prep containers, checking the date. "Y'all hungry? I could heat this up, or Joe's got those protein bars he's obsessed with." She pauses, looking at them. "Actually, do you even like coffee this late? Or early, I guess."

"Coffee's perfect," Jimmy says, settling at the kitchen island. "Been a long night."

Riley nods, measuring out coffee beans. "I'm glad you're here. I didn't want to be alone, you know?"

"We wanted to meet you anyway," Robin says, taking the stool next to Jimmy. "This just moved up the timeline."

The coffee machine starts its familiar hum, and Riley leans against the counter, finally still for a moment. "I'm sorry it's under these circumstances. I had this whole thing planned out in my head about meeting you guys properly, maybe at a game or something normal."

"Nothing normal about our lives anymore," Jimmy says with a small smile. "Hasn't been since Joe got drafted."

"Yeah, I'm learning that." Riley opens a cabinet, pulling out a box of crackers, then grabs some cheese from the fridge. "Like tonight at the airport—I'm usually good about photos and stuff, but you were smart to step in. That would've been everywhere by morning. Hell, me at the airport is probably everywhere by now."

She starts arranging the snacks on a plate, her movements quick and efficient. Robin watches her, noting how different Riley seems from what she expected—not putting on any kind of performance, just being herself.

"How do you handle it?" Robin asks. "The attention?"

Riley shrugs, pouring coffee into three mugs. "I've been doing this since I was sixteen, so it's all I really know. I figured out pretty early that if I fight it, I can't have anything normal. So I try to embrace it, you know? Be good to fans, be myself." She hands them each a mug. "Cream? Sugar?"

"Black's fine," Jimmy says.

"Little cream," Robin requests.

Riley doctors Robin's coffee and slides it across the counter. "Joe's better at the whole image thing than I am. More careful. Smarter about it, probably."

"You think he's too careful?" Robin asks, something curious in her voice.

Riley pauses, considering. "Sometimes. Like, I get why he has to be. His whole career depends on people seeing him a certain way. But sometimes I think he's protecting himself from problems that don't really exist."

Robin nods. "He's always been like that. Even as a kid, he'd worry about things that never happened."

She takes a sip of her coffee and winces. "God, that's strong. Sorry, I'm not great at coffee when I'm tired."

"It's perfect," Jimmy assures her.

"So tell us about this tour," Robin says. "Joe mentioned it starts soon?"

Riley's face lights up despite her exhaustion. "Three weeks. It's going to be over a year, all arenas. We start in Philadelphia and basically don't stop until next December." She laughs. "We've played these venues before, but never a tour this long or a set this extensive. Some of these places hold like fifty, sixty thousand people."

"That's incredible," Robin says. "You nervous?"

"Completely. But good nervous, I think? Like, we've been working toward this for years." Riley pulls her legs up onto the barstool, getting comfortable. "My band keeps telling me to enjoy it, that this is what we've worked for, but I keep waiting for someone to realize they made a mistake."

"What kind of mistake?" Robin asks.

Riley laughs. "Like, I know logically that we've earned this, but there's still this part of me that's like, 'Really? They're letting the girl from New Orleans who skipped half her senior year to tour do a ten-night residency at Madison Square Garden?'"

"Ten nights?" Jimmy asks, impressed.

"Sold out already," Riley says, still sounding amazed by it. "Pete—my bass player—he cried when we found out. Like, actually cried."

"How long have you guys been together? The band, I mean," Robin asks.

"Since high school. Pete and I met freshman year, then we found Andy and Daniel." Riley's voice gets softer, more fond. "They're like my brothers. Especially going through all this crazy stuff, they keep me grounded."

"That's what Joe says about his teammates," Jimmy observes. "That core group from LSU."

"Yeah, Ja'Marr and those guys. They seem good for him." Riley fidgets with her mug. "Actually, can I ask you something? How does he handle... being hurt? Like, emotionally. I've never seen him unable to play before."

Robin and Jimmy exchange a look.

"He doesn't handle it well," Robin says honestly. "Even as a kid, if he couldn't practice or play, he'd get this restless energy. Angry, but not at anyone in particular."

"He'll want to do something," Jimmy adds. "Work out, watch film, anything to feel useful. Sitting still isn't in his vocabulary."

Riley nods slowly. "That's what I was worried about. This whole season he's been so focused, and with his shin bothering him, I could tell he was already frustrated. Now this..."

"You've been worried about him," Robin says, not a question.

"Yeah. He doesn't like to admit when things are bothering him, but I can tell. And tonight, watching him go down..." Riley's voice wavers slightly. "I've never been so scared in my life. I know that probably sounds dramatic, but—"

"It doesn't sound dramatic," Robin interrupts gently. "It sounds like you love him."

Riley looks down at her coffee, nodding. "I do. A lot. Even when he's being stubborn or shutting me out when things get hard."

"He does that," Jimmy confirms. "Always has. Gets in his own head."

"The thing is," Riley continues, "I want to be there for him through this, but I also have to leave for tour prep in two weeks. And I hate that. I hate that when he needs support, I'll be gone for over a year."

"He knows your tour is important," Robin says.

"Yeah, but is it more important than being here when he's going through the worst thing that could happen to his career?" Riley shakes her head. "I keep thinking about canceling dates, or postponing, but that affects so many people. The band, the crew, the fans who bought tickets..."

"You can't put your life on hold," Jimmy says firmly. "Joe wouldn't want that."

"I know. Logically, I know that. But it doesn't make me feel less guilty about it."

Riley gets up to refill her coffee, moving around the kitchen like she's done it a thousand times. Robin notices how she automatically rinses her mug first, puts the cream back exactly where Joe would want it.

"How do you guys make it work?" Robin asks. "The distance, the different schedules."

Riley leans against the counter again. "Honestly? Some days better than others. We text constantly, FaceTime when we can. But it's hard when he's in season and I'm doing all this press stuff. We're both traveling all the time, different time zones."

She pauses, considering. "But then he'll do something like send flowers to whatever city I'm in, or have food delivered when I'm working late. And I'll send him some stupid song I wrote about him at 2 AM, and it reminds me why it's worth it."

"Long distance is tough," Jimmy says. "Especially with careers like yours."

"Yeah, but I'd rather have him in my life complicated than not have him at all," Riley says simply. "Even when he's being impossible."

Robin smiles at that. "Sounds like you know what you're getting into."

"Most days." Riley checks the time on her phone. "God, it's almost five. I should probably text my team, let them know I made it here okay."

She pulls out her phone and settles back onto the barstool, typing quickly. Robin and Jimmy watch her, both thinking the same thing—that despite her fame, despite the chaos of her life, Riley feels remarkably normal. Real.

"Pete's probably freaking out," Riley mutters, scrolling through messages. "He and Joe have gotten close, so he'll be worried about both of us."

"That's sweet," Robin says.

Riley looks up, smiling slightly. "Yeah, it is. Pete's protective like that, but he really likes Joe. They bonded early on."

Riley yawns, the exhaustion finally starting to catch up with her. "I should probably update everyone properly. Let them know I'm here safe and Joe's okay."

"Go ahead, honey," Robin says. "We'll clean up the kitchen."

"You don't have to—" Riley starts, but Robin waves her off.

"Go sit. You've been taking care of us all night."

Riley moves to the living room, settling into the corner of Joe's couch with her phone. She can hear Robin and Jimmy quietly cleaning up in the kitchen, the soft sounds of dishes being washed and coffee mugs being put away.

"Pete's sent like fifteen messages," Riley says to herself, scrolling through her phone. She starts typing: Made it to Cincinnati. Joe's parents picked me up (they're amazing). He should be home around 7. Will update when I know more about—

Her eyes drift closed mid-sentence, the phone slipping slightly in her hands. The combination of performing, the emotional shock of seeing Joe get hurt, the red-eye flight, and hours of nervous energy finally catching up with her all at once.

When Robin comes back from the kitchen a few minutes later, she finds Riley fast asleep, her head tilted against the back of the couch, phone still clutched loosely in her fingers. She looks younger somehow, all the worry lines smoothed away in sleep.

Robin takes the phone from Riley's hands and sets it on the coffee table. She finds a soft throw blanket draped over the back of another chair—one she recognizes as something Riley probably brought from New Orleans—and gently covers her with it.

"Poor thing," Robin whispers to Jimmy as he joins her. "She's exhausted."

Jimmy nods, looking at Riley with something like fondness. "Been a hell of a night for her."

* * *

Robin and Jimmy move back to the kitchen, keeping their voices low.

"Well," Robin says, "that went better than I thought it would."

Jimmy dries his hands on a dish towel. "She's not what I pictured."

"No?" Robin starts putting the leftover crackers back in their container. "What did you picture?"

"I don't know. More..." He gestures vaguely. "Rock star-ish."

Robin laughs quietly. "She made us coffee and cleaned Joe's kitchen at four in the morning. Real rock star behavior there."

"You know what I mean."

"I do." Robin glances toward the living room. "She's just normal. Well, normal for someone dating our son."

Jimmy sits down at the kitchen island. "She's got her own key."

"Mm-hmm. And her own drawer upstairs. That little keyboard setup in the corner." Robin joins him at the counter. "This isn't new."

"No, it's not." Jimmy's quiet for a moment. "You think Joe's serious about her?"

"Jimmy, she flew here from New York at three in the morning because he got hurt. I'd say they're both pretty serious."

"Fair point."

Robin fidgets with her coffee mug. "She reminds me of you, actually."

"How's that?"

"The way she just does what needs doing. No fuss about it." Robin looks at him. "You would've done the same thing. If I'd gotten hurt when we were young and you were across the country, you would've been on the first plane."

Jimmy considers this. "Probably would've driven."

"Because you hate flying, but yes." Robin smiles. "She didn't even think about it. Just came."

"She's going to be gone for over a year though. Starting in three weeks."

"I know." Robin's smile fades. "Terrible timing."

"Think they'll make it?"

Robin looks toward the living room where Riley's sleeping. "You see how she fits here? Like she's always been here?"

"Yeah."

"And you heard her talking about him. She sees right through him." Robin drums her fingers on the counter. "Remember when she said he protects himself from problems that don't exist?"

"That's Joe exactly."

"Exactly. She calls him on his bullshit." Robin pauses. "Olivia never really saw through that."

Jimmy raises an eyebrow. "We loved Olivia."

"Of course we did. She was family for six years. But she always took Joe at face value. If he said everything was fine, she believed him. Riley seems to see what's underneath."

"Think that's good?"

"I think Joe needs someone who won't let him hide in his own head all the time." Robin gets up to check on Riley, then comes back. "She's completely out."

"Poor kid's exhausted."

"She performed on national television six hours ago. Then saw Joe get hurt and got on a plane." Robin shakes her head. "I can't imagine."

"She handled it though. All of it."

"She did." Robin looks thoughtful. "You know what got me? When she was making coffee, asking if we were hungry. She was taking care of us."

"While she was the one who'd had the traumatic night."

"Right. That tells you something about who she is."

Jimmy nods. "Joe needs that. Someone who takes care of people."

"He's always been the one taking care of everyone else. Making sure his teammates are okay, making sure we don't worry about him." Robin pauses. "Maybe it's good for him to have someone who takes care of him back."

"Think she'll be able to handle all the attention? The pressure?"

"She's been famous since she was sixteen, Jimmy. She knows what she signed up for." Robin glances at the clock. "Besides, you saw how she was tonight. She doesn't seem to care much about what other people think."

"That could be good or bad."

"With Joe? Probably good. He cares too much about what people think sometimes."

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, both processing the night.

"We should probably try to get some sleep," Jimmy says. "Joe'll be home in an hour."

"Are you tired?"

"Not really."

"Me neither." Robin smiles. "Too much coffee. And too much excitement."

"Think we should wake her when he gets here?"

"Let's see how it goes. She needs the sleep." Robin pauses. "But I want to see them together. See how they are with each other when he gets home."

"That'll be something."

"Mm." Robin looks toward the living room again. "She really loves him, doesn't she?"

"Yeah," Jimmy says simply. "She really does."

"Good." Robin gets up to check the locks on the front door, a habit from years of motherhood. "Joe deserves that. Someone who loves him enough to drop everything when he needs them."

"Think we should head to the guest room after he gets here? Give them some space?"

"Probably. But not right away. I want to make sure he's okay first." Robin comes back to the kitchen. "And I want to see them together. See how they are with each other."

"Nosy."

"Protective. There's a difference."

Jimmy smiles. "If you say so." He pauses, thinking. "I really do think she's good for him. Different from what he's used to, but good different."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Joe's always been so controlled, so careful about everything. Maybe he needs someone who's a little more..." He searches for the word.

"Spontaneous?"

"Spontaneous. Willing to take risks." Jimmy looks toward the living room. "Flying here tonight was a risk. Could've been bad publicity, could've looked crazy to people. But she did it anyway because it was the right thing to do."

Robin nods. "That's what I think too. She follows her heart."

"Think Joe's learning to do that?"

"I hope so." Robin stands up, restless. "He's been so focused on his career, on doing everything right, sometimes I wonder if he forgets to just live a little."

"Riley doesn't seem like she'd let him forget that."

"No," Robin agrees, smiling. "No, she doesn't."

* * *

Joe uses his key quietly, expecting the house to be silent at seven in the morning. He's exhausted—the flight from Baltimore, the worst night of his career, his right wrist throbbing despite the pain medication. He just wants to get upstairs, maybe check on Riley if she's awake, and crash for a few hours before dealing with doctors and phone calls and the reality of his season being over.

But there's light coming from the kitchen, and he can hear low voices.

"Mom?" he calls softly, dropping his bag by the door.

"In here, honey."

Joe finds Robin and Jimmy at the kitchen island with coffee, looking like they've been up for hours.

"You didn't sleep?" Joe asks, accepting the hug Robin immediately pulls him into. She's careful of his right arm, which is wrapped and resting in a sling.

"A little. We wanted to be awake when you got home." Robin pulls back to look at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Joe's automatic response, even though his wrist is killing him and his whole world just shifted. "How's Riley? Is she okay?"

"She's perfect," Robin says immediately. "Sound asleep on your couch."

"She was exhausted," Jimmy adds. "Been up since... well, since she saw you get hurt."

Joe nods, thinking about everything Riley gave up to be here. "How did she seem tonight?"

"Worried about you," Robin says gently. "But she handled everything beautifully. Made us coffee, took care of us, made sure we were comfortable."

"Even though she was the one who'd had the traumatic night," Jimmy observes.

Joe's not surprised by this—it's exactly what Riley would do. "She left Colbert for this."

"We know. She told us." Robin touches his good arm. "That's not a small thing, Joe."

"No, it's not." Joe looks toward the living room, where he can just make out Riley's form on the couch. "Did she say anything about... us? About how things have been?"

Robin and Jimmy exchange a look.

"She said you've been frustrated lately," Robin says carefully. "With your shin bothering you. But mostly she just seemed scared about you being hurt."

"She loves you," Jimmy says simply. "That was pretty clear."

Joe feels something ease in his chest that's been tight for weeks. "Yeah. I love her too."

"We can tell." Robin smiles. "She fits here, honey. In your space, in your life. It feels natural."

"She's got her own key," Jimmy points out with a small smile. "Her own space upstairs."

"I know." Joe's quiet for a moment. "It's been good. Really good."

"We really like her," Robin says. "She's genuine. Real. Not what I expected from someone famous, honestly."

"She's been famous since she was sixteen. It's all she knows, but she's never let it change who she is." Joe looks toward the living room again. "Is she really okay? She looked so worried on TV."

"She was worried. But she's tough." Robin stands up. "Why don't you go see her? We're going to head to the guest room, give you two some privacy."

Joe nods gratefully. "Thank you. For picking her up, for staying with her. I didn't want her to be alone."

"Of course," Jimmy says, standing as well. "She's family now."

The casual way he says it surprises Joe. Family. Yeah, she is.

"How's the wrist for real?" Robin asks, mother's intuition cutting through his careful composure.

"Bad," Joe admits quietly. "Season's over. Surgery next week."

Robin's face falls. "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry."

"It'll be fine. I'll be fine." Joe's voice is steady, controlled. "Just need to focus on recovery now."

Jimmy squeezes his shoulder. "You've got time to figure it out. And you've got people who care about you."

Joe nods, looking toward the living room where Riley's sleeping. "Yeah. I do."

Robin and Jimmy head toward the guest room, leaving Joe standing in his kitchen at seven in the morning, finally alone with the reality of what's happened. His season's over. His wrist might never be the same. And the woman he loves dropped everything to be here for him.

He walks quietly toward the living room, still in the sweats he threw on at the hotel in Baltimore, and stops when he sees her.

Riley's curled up in the corner of his couch, covered with the throw blanket from New Orleans that she brought months ago. Her hair's messy from sleep, her face soft and peaceful in the early morning light filtering through the windows. She looks younger like this, all the worry lines from the night smoothed away.

Joe sits down carefully on the edge of the couch beside her, being gentle so he doesn't wake her yet. His right wrist throbs, but for the first time since he hit the ground in Baltimore, he feels like he can breathe properly.

She came. Despite everything that's been complicated between them, despite the tour starting in three weeks, despite having to abandon a major TV appearance—she came.

Joe reaches out with his good hand and gently brushes a strand of hair away from her face. Riley stirs slightly but doesn't wake, just shifts closer to where he's sitting.

"Riley," he says softly. "Hey."

Her eyes flutter open, confused for a moment before they focus on him. Then her face completely transforms.

"Joe." She sits up quickly, immediately reaching for him before catching herself and being careful of his injured wrist. "Are you okay? How do you feel? What did the doctors say?"

* * *

Joe looks at her for a long moment, taking in her sleep-messed hair, the way she's instantly alert despite having been asleep seconds ago.

"Season's over," he says simply. "Surgery next week."

Riley's face falls. "Shit. How bad?"

"Bad enough." Joe flexes his good hand. "Ligament's torn. They said six months minimum, but..."

"But you don't know if it'll be the same."

"Yeah. That uncertainty has to be killing you."

Riley doesn't try to tell him it'll be fine or offer empty reassurances. She just nods, understanding.

"How was the flight?" she asks, which is such a Riley question—practical, immediate.

"Long. Couldn't sleep." Joe looks at his wrapped wrist. "Kept thinking about the play. How normal it was until it wasn't."

"These things happen fast."

"Yeah, they do." Joe's quiet for a moment. "You left your show."

"Couldn't exactly sit there and talk about tour dates when you were walking off the field holding your wrist."

Joe almost smiles at that. "Colbert probably wasn't happy."

"Colbert was fine. Pete took care of it." Riley shifts on the couch. "But really, how are you? Like actually."

Joe considers this, looking at her. With Riley, he doesn't have to perform. Doesn't have to be the franchise quarterback who's got everything under control.

"Scared," he admits quietly. "I've never not been able to play before. Even when I was hurt, I knew I'd come back. This feels different."

Riley nods. "Different how?"

"Like maybe I won't." Joe's voice gets quieter. "Or maybe I will, but it won't be the same. And if it's not the same..."

He doesn't finish the sentence, but Riley understands. Football isn't just Joe's job—it's been his identity since he was a kid.

"You don't have to figure that out today," she says.

"I know. But my brain won't shut up about it."

"Your brain never shuts up about anything."

That gets a small laugh out of him. "True."

They sit in silence for a moment. Joe looks exhausted, pain medication making his movements slower, more careful than usual.

"You came," he says eventually.

"You asked me to come."

"I asked my parents to pick you up. I didn't ask you to leave New York."

Riley looks at him like that's the stupidest thing he's ever said. "Where else was I going to be?"

"Doing your job. Being professional."

"Joe." Riley's voice is matter-of-fact. "You got hurt. Did you honestly think I was going to stay in New York and talk about my tour?"

Joe's throat tightens unexpectedly. Not because of what she said, but because of how she said it—like there was never any question, never any choice to make.

"Your tour starts in three weeks," he says.

"I know."

"You'll be gone for over a year."

"Yeah."

Joe looks at her, and something in his expression shifts. The exhaustion, the pain medication, the relief of having her here—it all hits him at once, and his careful control finally cracks.

His eyes fill up, and he looks away quickly, jaw tightening as he tries to hold it together.

"Hey," Riley says softly. "It's okay."

"I'm fine," Joe says automatically, but his voice wavers.

"No, you're not. And that's okay."

Joe takes a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill over. "I don't know what I'm doing, Riley. I've had a plan since I was eight years old, and now..."

"Now you need a different plan."

"I don't know how to make a different plan." Joe's voice breaks slightly. "This is all I know how to do."

Riley doesn't say anything for a moment, just lets him sit with it.

"You know what you're going to do right now?" she says finally.

"What?"

"You're going to go upstairs, take a shower, and sleep for six hours. Then we'll figure out the next thing."

Joe looks at her, and despite everything, he almost smiles. "That's your plan?"

"That's my plan for today. Tomorrow we'll make a plan for tomorrow."

Joe nods, wiping his eyes with his good hand. "Okay."

"Okay."

He looks at her again, really looks at her—sitting on his couch at seven in the morning, still in the clothes she slept in, hair messy, completely focused on him.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "For coming. For being here."

"Always," Riley says simply.

And Joe believes her.

* * *

"Come on," Riley says, standing up from the couch. "Let's get you upstairs."

Joe follows her slowly, his movements careful and deliberate. The pain medication makes everything feel slightly disconnected, and his wrapped wrist throbs with each step.

In his bedroom, Riley moves around with familiar efficiency, pulling clean clothes from his dresser while Joe sits on the edge of the bed.

"Can you get your shirt off?" she asks, turning back to him.

Joe tries to pull his hoodie over his head with his left hand, but the movement pulls at his injured wrist and he winces, stopping halfway.

"Here," Riley says, moving to help him. She's gentle but matter-of-fact about it, carefully working the fabric over his wrapped wrist and pulling the hoodie off.

"This is stupid," Joe mutters, frustrated by his helplessness.

"It's temporary," Riley says simply, folding his hoodie and setting it aside. "Shower?"

Joe nods, and Riley follows him into the bathroom. She starts the water, testing the temperature with her hand while Joe struggles with his sweatpants.

"Joe." Riley's voice is patient. "Let me help."

She helps him out of the rest of his clothes, her touch clinical and caring rather than sexual. When she starts to undress herself, Joe raises an eyebrow.

"You don't have to—"

"I'm not letting you fall and break your other wrist," Riley says, stepping out of her joggers. "Besides, someone needs to wash your hair."

In the shower, Riley is careful and gentle. She keeps his wrapped wrist dry, holding it away from the spray while she helps him wash. Her movements are efficient, focused on taking care of him rather than anything else.

"This okay?" she asks, working shampoo through his hair.

Joe nods, closing his eyes. The hot water feels good on his sore muscles, and having Riley take care of him feels like relief he didn't know he needed.

"Lean forward a little," she says, rinsing the shampoo out. "There."

She washes his back, his shoulders, careful around any tender spots. When she reaches for the body wash, Joe catches her wrist with his good hand.

"Riley."

"What?"

"Thank you. For all of this."

She looks at him, water running down her face. "You don't have to thank me for taking care of you."

"Yeah, I do."

Riley studies his expression for a moment, then nods. "Okay. You're welcome."

She finishes washing him quickly and efficiently, then helps him out of the shower. Riley wraps a towel around herself and then helps Joe dry off, being extra careful around his injured wrist.

"Clean clothes?" she asks.

"Just boxers for now," Joe says. "I need to sleep."

Riley helps him into fresh underwear and a t-shirt, movements still gentle and practical. By the time they're done, Joe looks ready to collapse.

"Bed," Riley says, pulling back the covers.

Joe gets in carefully, and Riley climbs in beside him, still in just a towel. She pulls the blackout curtains closed, plunging the room into darkness.

"Sleep," she says quietly, settling beside him.

Joe lies on his side, facing Riley in the dark room. She's starting to drift off, her breathing getting deeper, but he can't sleep yet. His mind won't quiet down—not about the injury, but about her. About everything she's done in the last eight hours.

"Riley," he says softly.

"Mmm?" Her eyes flutter open. "Yeah baby?"

Joe looks at her in the dim light filtering through the blackout curtains. "I love you. I love you so much it hurts to breathe when I think about it, which is why I haven't told you sooner."

Riley sits up quickly, suddenly fully awake. "Joe..."

"I know I've been difficult lately. With the season, with my shin, with everything. But you came anyway. You left your show and got on a plane and took care of me, and—"

"Joe." Riley's voice is soft but sure. "I love you too."

Joe feels something settle in his chest that's been restless for months.

"You know," Riley continues, "remember that phone call we had before you flew to New Orleans? To meet Papa and everyone?"

"Yeah. You were acting weird."

Riley laughs quietly. "I was acting weird because I'd just figured it out. That I loved you. I was trying so hard not to say it and probably sounded like a complete psycho."

"You did sound like a psycho," Joe says, almost smiling. "I thought you were trying to un-invite me."

"Never." Riley settles back down beside him. "When did you know?"

Joe's quiet for a moment. "I think I knew when I walked into your house that first time. When I heard that fucking song in my head and felt like I was home for the first time in my life."

"'This Must Be the Place,'" Riley says softly.

"Yeah. That one." Joe looks at her, suddenly feeling ridiculous but not caring. "I hate to be a total fucking corn ball, but will you sing it to me while I go to sleep?"

Riley's face softens completely. "Of course."

She starts singing quietly, her voice barely above a whisper in the dark room:

Home is where I want to be

Pick me up and turn me round

Joe closes his eyes, listening to her voice, feeling the tension finally leave his body.

Home is where I want to be

But I guess I'm already there

Riley continues through the verses, her voice soft and soothing. When she gets to the part about lifting up wings, Joe's voice joins hers, quiet but sure:

I come home, she lifted up her wings

I guess that this must be the place

Riley smiles, continuing to sing until Joe's breathing evens out and his face relaxes into sleep. She keeps singing even after he's asleep, the familiar words filling the quiet room until she finally drifts off too, her hand resting gently on his chest.

* * *

Joe wakes up groggy as hell, his wrist throbbing and his mouth dry from the pain meds. The room's dark, but he can tell it's afternoon. He hears Riley talking in the bathroom, her voice quiet but firm.

"Gwennie, hey. Yeah, cancel everything this week... No, everything. All the promo stuff, the interviews, whatever's on the books."

Joe stays still, listening.

"Because Joe's having surgery and I'm staying here... Gwen, I don't care what it costs. Just cancel it." There's a pause. "What about the tour? We postpone it. Simple."

Joe sits up slowly, trying to clear his head.

"Look, I know it's a lot of money, but I'm not leaving him right now... No, I haven't talked to him yet, but—"

Joe gets up and heads toward the bathroom.

"Riley."

She turns, phone still at her ear. "Gwen, I'll call you back."

She hangs up and looks at him. "How'd you sleep?"

"What did you just do?"

"Cleared my schedule so I can be here with you."

Joe stares at her. "You can't postpone the tour."

"Yes, I can. It's my tour."

"Riley, no. Absolutely not."

"Joe—"

"No." Joe's voice is firm despite the sleep in his voice. "You are not postponing a year-long arena tour because I hurt my wrist."

"It's not just your wrist, it's surgery, it's recovery—"

"And you have a career. Obligations. People depending on you."

Riley crosses her arms. "You're more important."

"I'm not more important than your entire career."

"You are to me."

Joe feels that familiar tightness in his chest—gratitude mixed with panic. "Riley, listen to me. You cannot sacrifice your tour for this. I won't let you."

"It's not your decision."

"Then I'm asking you not to. Please." Joe leans against the bathroom counter, suddenly exhausted again. "This is everything you've worked for. Everything your band has worked for. You can't throw it away because I got hurt."

Riley studies his face. "What if I just postpone the first few weeks? Until you're—"

"No. None of it. You start that tour in three weeks like you planned."

"Joe—"

"Promise me." Joe looks at her seriously. "Promise me you won't postpone anything."

Riley is quiet for a long moment. "I already canceled this week."

"That's different. This week is fine. But the tour starts on time."

"Fine," Riley says reluctantly. "But I'm flying back for the surgery."

"Riley—"

"That's non-negotiable. I'll be on tour by then anyway, I can fly back for one day."

Joe wants to argue, but he can see from her expression that she won't budge on this point.

"Okay," he agrees. "One day."

Riley nods, then looks at him with concern. "How are you feeling? Pain-wise?"

"Like I got hit by a truck, but better than this morning."

"You should eat something. Your parents made sure there was food."

"Where are my parents?"

"Guest room. They're being very polite about giving us space."

Joe almost smiles. "That sounds like them."

Riley sits beside him on the bed. "Are you sure about the tour? Because I really can—"

"I'm sure." Joe takes her hand with his good one. "I love you for wanting to do it, but I'd never forgive myself if you postponed your entire career for me."

Riley looks at him for a moment, then nods. "Okay. But I'm staying this week."

"This week is perfect."

Riley leans over and kisses him softly. "Your phone's been buzzing all day, by the way. I turned the sound off so you could sleep."

Joe glances at his phone on the nightstand, seeing dozens of missed calls and messages.

"The whole world knows you're here now," he says quietly.

"Yeah," Riley says simply. "They do."

* * *

The rest of the week passes in a strange bubble. Joe's parents stay through Tuesday, helping out and getting to know Riley better before heading back to Athens. Joe spends most of his time dealing with team doctors, scheduling surgery, and trying to avoid thinking too hard about what comes next.

Riley barely leaves his side. She drives him to appointments, makes sure he takes his medication, and somehow manages to make even the worst parts of the day feel manageable. Joe watches her navigate his world—charming his doctors, remembering his teammates' names, fitting seamlessly into his life like she's always been there.

On Wednesday, Joe's phone rings during lunch. Mark's name on the screen.

"I should take this," Joe says, stepping into the other room.

"Joe, we need to talk," Mark says without preamble. "Have you seen what people are saying?"

"No, and I don't want to."

"Well, you need to know. The narrative isn't good. People are saying you were distracted, that dating someone like Riley affected your focus—"

"Someone like Riley?"

"You know what I mean. The lifestyle, the drama, the attention. People are connecting dots that aren't there, saying the relationship is why you got hurt."

Joe closes his eyes. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it? You've been different this season, Joe. Less focused. And now you're dating a rock star who parties with celebrities and—"

"Riley doesn't party. You don't know what you're talking about."

"The optics are bad. Really bad. Bill and I think we need to get ahead of this—"

Joe hangs up.

When he walks back into the kitchen, Riley's cleaning up their lunch, but she looks up at his expression.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just agent stuff."

Riley studies his face but doesn't push.

Thursday afternoon, Bill calls.

"Joe, I'm driving over. We need to have a conversation."

"I'm not really up for—"

"This isn't optional. I'll be there in an hour."

When Bill arrives, he spreads out printed articles and screenshots across Joe's kitchen island like evidence in a court case.

"Look at this," Bill says, pointing to a headline. "'Burrow's Career Derailed by Rock Star Romance.' And this one: 'Is Joe Burrow's Girlfriend Worth a Super Bowl?' They're tearing you apart, Joe."

Joe glances at the headlines, feeling sick. "Where's Riley?"

"How should I know? Joe, you need to see what you're dealing with here. People are questioning your judgment, your priorities—"

"My priorities are fine."

"Are they? Because from the outside, it looks like you're choosing a relationship over your career."

"I got hurt on a normal play. It has nothing to do with Riley."

"Doesn't matter. Perception is reality in this business."

Joe hears footsteps on the stairs and turns to see Riley coming down. She takes one look at the papers spread across the counter and her expression hardens.

"You must be Bill," she says coolly.

"Riley Carter. Good to finally meet you."

"Wish I could say the same." Riley walks over to the counter, scanning the headlines. "This is what you came here to show him?"

"He needs to understand the situation—"

"The situation is that Joe got hurt playing football. That's it."

"The situation is more complicated than that, and you know it."

Riley's voice gets sharp. "No, what's complicated is grown men blaming a woman for a football injury because they need someone to point fingers at."

"Riley," Joe says quietly, not wanting this to escalate.

But Riley's just getting started. "You want to talk about distractions? Let's talk about how you two have been calling him all week with this garbage instead of letting him focus on recovery."

Bill straightens. "We're trying to protect his career—"

"By throwing me under the bus?"

"By being realistic about the optics."

"The optics of what? Joe dating someone? Having a life outside football?"

"The optics of Joe dating someone whose lifestyle is incompatible with professional athletics."

Riley laughs, but there's no humor in it. "My lifestyle? You mean working? Because that's what I do. I work. I write songs, I record albums, I perform. Just like Joe plays football."

"It's not the same thing—"

"You're right. It's not. Because when I fuck up, it only affects me. When Joe gets hurt, apparently it's my fault too."

"That's not what I'm saying—"

"That's exactly what you're saying."

Joe watches this exchange feeling helpless. Riley's defending him with the same fierce loyalty she's shown all week, but he can see the toll this is taking on her too.

"Maybe we should all take a step back," Joe says.

Riley looks at him, and for a moment, Joe sees something flicker across her face. Hurt, maybe. Or disappointment that he's not backing her up more forcefully.

"Yeah," she says quietly. "Maybe we should."

She heads back upstairs without another word.

Bill starts to say something, but Joe cuts him off.

"I think you should go."

"Joe, I'm trying to help—"

"I know. But right now, I need you to leave."

After Bill's gone, Joe finds Riley in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with her laptop.

"I'm sorry about that," he says.

"Are you?"

"What do you mean?"

Riley closes her laptop. "I mean, are you actually sorry he came here and said those things, or are you sorry I had to hear them?"

Joe doesn't answer right away, and that tells Riley everything she needs to know.

"I'm going to go for a drive," she says, standing up.

"Riley—"

"I just need some air. I'll be back."

She's gone for two hours. When she comes back, they don't talk about it. They make dinner, watch a movie, and go to bed like nothing happened. But something has shifted, and they both feel it.

* * *

Friday morning, Riley starts packing.

"Tour starts Monday," she says when Joe asks why her suitcase is out.

"Right. I forgot what day it was."

"I need to get to Philadelphia tomorrow, do final rehearsals and sound check on Sunday."

Joe watches her fold clothes with quick, efficient movements. "Are we okay?"

Riley pauses, a t-shirt in her hands. "Yeah. We're okay."

But she won't look at him when she says it.

The car comes to take her to the airport Saturday afternoon. They stand in his driveway, knowing she'll be back for his surgery in a few days.

"I'll see you Wednesday," Riley says.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to. And I'll be there when you wake up."

Joe nods, not trusting his voice.

Riley kisses him goodbye, and Joe watches her car disappear down his street.

He goes back inside to his empty house and finally allows himself to think about what Bill showed him. About the headlines and the criticism and the growing narrative that he's lost focus.

Maybe they're not wrong.

* * *

Social Media Explosion

X (Twitter)

@ESPNStatsInfo Joe Burrow threw 23 TDs and 5 INTs over his first 10 games this season. His QBR was 82.6. The narrative that he was "distracted" doesn't match the numbers. #Bengals

@BengalsFanBoy Replying to @ESPNStatsInfo Bro was literally having his best season and people wanna blame his girlfriend for a freak injury. Make it make sense.

@NFLCommentator 🧵 THREAD: The Joe Burrow situation is bigger than football. When you're the face of a franchise, your personal life matters. Dating a rock star brings chaos and distraction. Period. 1/7

@RileyStanAccount This man really said dating a rock star brings chaos. Riley Carter literally graduated valedictorian and built a million-dollar business. The misogyny is loud.

@SportsCenter Riley Carter's rep confirms she cancelled an entire week of album promotion to be with Joe Burrow after his injury. The Late Show appearance would have reached 3M+ viewers. That's real love. 🔥

@BengalsNation88 Replying to @SportsCenter And then flew back from her tour for his surgery. Y'all still think she's the problem?

@ToxicMascAlert "Real love" is not sabotaging your man's career by being a distraction. Joe was MVP caliber before her. Now look.

@MusicNews247 BREAKING: Sources say Riley Carter was ready to postpone her entire ARENA TOUR for Joe Burrow's recovery. The tour is projected to gross $200M+. Let that sink in.

@FootballAnalyst The Joe Burrow injury is unfortunate but let's be real - elite QBs don't let relationships affect their game. Look at Brady, Manning, Rodgers. They stayed focused. #Bengals

@RealTalk_Sarah Replying to @FootballAnalyst Brady and Manning were both married with kids during their careers. But somehow Joe dating someone is the problem? The double standard is insane.

Instagram

@joeyb_9 (Comments disabled) Photo from rehab session "Day by day. Thank you for all the support."

@deuxmoi "Submitted: Was at CVG airport yesterday and saw Riley Carter getting on a private jet. She looked exhausted but was super nice to airport staff. Apparently she's flying between tour cities and Cincinnati constantly. No one's confirming anything but the timing is obvious. 👀" ❤️ 47,293 likes

@entertainmenttonight "NEW: Multiple sources confirm Riley Carter has been spotted flying between tour stops and Cincinnati multiple times this week. Her reps continue to cite 'family emergency' but won't elaborate. Link in bio for full story." ❤️ 892,047 likes

TikTok

@nflteaa (1.2M views) Video showing Joe's stats before vs. during relationship "POV: You realize Joe Burrow was actually playing BETTER this season 📊✨" Sound: "The math ain't mathing"

Top comment: "The narrative that she ruined his career when he was literally having his best season ever 💀"

@rileycarterfp (850K views) Compilation of Riley's biggest career moments "Since y'all wanna call her a distraction, here's what she accomplished while dating Joe: #1 album, sold out arena tour, Grammy nomination, $200M+ tour grossing. The disrespect is unreal."

@sportstalktok (2.1M views) Split screen: Headlines about Joe vs. Headlines about Riley "Notice how every headline about her is positive and every one about him is negative? That's not an accident."

@popculture.detective (956K views) Text overlay: "Riley Carter cancelling $50M worth of appearances to care for her boyfriend" "This is what love looks like when someone has actually grown up ✨" Sound: "That's a real one right there"

Reddit

r/bengals

Title: The double standard around Joe and Riley is insane (5,847 upvotes) Posted 2 days ago

"Everyone's acting like Joe's the first NFL player to have a girlfriend. The man was playing lights out before he got hurt. This injury could have happened to anyone, any play. But because he's dating someone famous suddenly it's her fault?

Meanwhile she literally cancelled millions in promo to take care of him and people are still calling her a distraction. Make it make sense."

Top comment (2,103 upvotes): "The way people are treating Riley vs. how they treated Gisele with Brady is night and day. Wonder what the difference could be 🤔"

Reply (847 upvotes): "Gisele was a supermodel married to the GOAT. Riley's a successful musician dating a great QB. Somehow one is acceptable and one isn't. Can't quite put my finger on why..."

r/popheads

Title: Riley Carter is getting way too much hate for supporting her boyfriend (12,903 upvotes) Posted 1 day ago

"I've been a Riley stan since her first album and the way people are treating her right now is disgusting. She's being called a distraction for... existing? Dating someone? Having a career?

This woman has worked her ass off for 10+ years, built an empire, and is one of the most genuine artists in the industry. Now she's being blamed for a football injury that had nothing to do with her.

The misogyny is loud and clear."

Top comment (3,847 upvotes): "The fact that she was ready to postpone a $200M+ tour and people are still calling her selfish... I can't."

r/nfl

Title: [Serious] Can we have an actual discussion about the Joe Burrow situation? (8,472 upvotes) Posted 18 hours ago

"I'm seeing a lot of really toxic takes about Joe's injury and his relationship. As someone who's watched every Bengals game this season, Joe was playing at an elite level. His decision-making was sharp, his accuracy was there, and the team was clicking.

This injury was a freak accident that could happen to any QB. Blaming his girlfriend is not only ridiculous, it's harmful to the discourse around professional sports.

Can we focus on his recovery instead of manufacturing drama?"

Top comment (2,956 upvotes): "The way some of y'all talk about athletes' personal lives is genuinely disturbing. These are human beings, not your fantasy football players."

Controversial comment (-234 upvotes): "Elite athletes don't let relationships affect their performance. There's a reason most successful QBs keep their personal lives low-key."

Reply (445 upvotes): "Joe literally WAS keeping it low-key until he got hurt and she flew across the country to support him. Y'all are creating drama where none exists."

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Disclaimer: No one is crazy about him atm, me included, so this is strictly for my readers and my readers only. I don’t condone his behavior at all -Just let me finish out this fic please. Don’t come for me. I’m only a girl with a google doc whose spent hours upon hours and days on end on this fic

Chapter 13 - 'Locked In’ | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.4k

The night was quiet except for the faint hum of streetlights filtering through your windows, but that peace was shattered by the incessant buzz of your phone vibrating on the bedside table. You were fast asleep, but Layla, curled up next to you on the other side of your bed, was anything but. She groaned, sitting up and glaring at your phone like it had personally offended her. Finally, she snatched it up, squinting at the screen. Trent. The notifications wouldn’t stop.

‘You awake, baby?’ ‘I just landed. Miss you so much xx.’ ‘Can I come over, pretty girl.’ ‘I’m outside if you’re up.’

Layla sighed, her annoyance mixing with protectiveness. She unlocked your phone, her thumb hovering over the keyboard before finally typing back. 

‘She’s asleep. Go home.’ 

But Trent wasn’t one to take no for an answer. Ten minutes later, she heard the sound of the side door creak open, and her heart jumped. Grabbing the closest thing resembling a weapon—a high heel —she tiptoed downstairs.

“Trent,” she hissed, relief and irritation washing over her simultaneously when she saw him standing in the hallway. “What the hell?” It wasn’t uncommon for any of Jack’s friends to just let themselves in but you knew that, Layla didn’t.

“I needed to see her,” Trent said quietly, his tone apologetic but firm. Layla’s frustration boiled over. 

“Honestly…” Layla sighed, frustrated she was awake, frustrated that your relationship wasn’t ironed out yet. The scenes of you upset again and again flashed in her mind even if you had just gushed about how good London had been with Trent last night to her. “T… you need to man up, seriously!” she snapped with a groan, her voice louder than intended. She rubbed her eyes tiredly.  “You’re sneaking into her house like you’re 16, and her parents are upstairs. What are you even doing?!” He flinched at her words, but his brows furrowed in frustration. 

“Layla, what do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice tinged with defensiveness. “Things are good right now. Really good. We’re sorting it. What am I supposed to do here?”

“What do I want you to do?” Layla threw her arms up. “I want you to treat her how she’s meant to be treated!”

“I do!” Trent shot back, his voice rising slightly. But then it softened, guilt creeping in as he added, “When it’s just us…” The reality that he was a grown man sneaking around in his best mate’s house for his sister harrowing. 

“Exactly,” Layla cut him off. Both of them slightly caught off guard by how serious of a conversation they were having as the night approached morning. “When it’s just you two. But Trent, she’s not some girl you can keep in the shadows. She’s not your secret. She’s not that girl to you, and you know it.” Trent’s defenses crumbled. He looked at Layla, the weight of her words sinking in. Layla sighed, her voice trembling as she continued. “She’s been waiting for you. I’ve seen you pine after her for years. Years, Trent. And you’ve played it too cool. It’s like you don’t care.  But now you’ve got her—she’s yours, fully and completely—and you’re still making her feel like she’s not enough. Do you know how much she trusts you? She’s playing by your rules because she wants this so badly. She wants you so badly. So please, Trent…” Her voice cracked, and she took a shaky breath, tears brimming in her eyes. “Please want her back. Want her the way she deserves to be wanted.” Trent’s chest tightened as he stepped closer to Layla cautiously, the sight of her lip trembling catching him off guard. He nodded, swallowing hard. 

“I do, Lay. I swear, I do. I just—” He sighed frustrated by circumstance. 

“Then show her,” Layla interrupted, her voice soft but firm. “Show her before she convinces herself you don’t.” She told Trent heartbroken by your stupid mistake. Your decision to text Josh was solely your fault and Layla agreed but that didn’t mean she felt like Trent couldn’t have made things a little better than they had been. Still, even with her reasoning clear in her mind, she didn’t think it was her place to tell him about the message so Trent nodded again, more resolutely this time, his jaw tightening as determination flickered in his eyes. He was done hiding, done pretending this wasn’t the most important thing in his life. 

“Okay,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I will. You know… I  want her so much, Lays. I can’t even begin to put it into words,” Trent admitted, his voice raw and trembling with emotion. “I’m working on it. I promise. I’m not fucking about.” His confession hung in the air, and for a moment, Layla was stunned. The vulnerability in his voice, the sheer honesty—she couldn’t help but soften. Trent reached for her, pulling her into a hug. She resisted for a split second before melting into the embrace, her sniffle betraying her emotions.

“Okay…” she murmured, stepping back and wiping her eyes quickly, a shy giggle escaping her lips. “Alright, well… you’re here. And I know she’d want you to stay.” Trent’s face softened further, relief washing over him at her words. “Come on, then,” she said gently, grabbing his wrist and tugging him toward the staircase. “I’ll stay in the guest room.” Trent nodded, a quiet ‘Thank you’ escaping his lips. But before he could take another step, Layla turned back and narrowed her eyes at him with mock severity. “But I’ve got my eye on you, yeah?” She snapped. Trent chuckled under his breath, the tension easing slightly. So he turned and climbed the stairs, his heart pounding with every step. Layla trailed behind, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths as she silently prayed he’d get it right this time.

 “Thanks, Lay. Really.” he said, his tone soft and genuine. With that, he slowly pushed open your bedroom door, careful not to make too much noise. The room was dimly lit by the glow of your bedside lamp, and there you were, tangled in your sheets, your features peaceful in sleep. Trent’s heart clenched as he took you in, the familiar ache of longing mixed with the overwhelming warmth of being close to you again. He stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. Layla, standing in the hall, gave him one last look of approval before heading toward the spare room, leaving him to figure out what came next. Trent hesitated for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, his mind racing. But then he crossed the room, pulling off his jumper and trousers before slipping under the covers next to you. You stirred slightly at the shift, your brows furrowing as you felt his lips on your shoulder. You opened your eyes just enough to see him. 

“T?” you whispered, your voice groggy and laced with confusion but deluded bliss of him possibly being here. 

“Yeah, it’s me, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “I missed you. I couldn’t wait to get my baby back.” You blinked a few times, the fog of sleep lifting as you registered his words. 

“You’re here?” A small, sleepy smile crept onto your face. 

“I’m here,” he confirmed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Go back to sleep f’me. I’m not going anywhere.” And with that, he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as you let yourself drift back into dreams of him, in his arms. For the first time in weeks, he felt at peace.

The warmth of the morning sunlight filtered through your bedroom curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. The light spilled onto Trent, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the gentle curve of his lashes, and the slight pout of his lips as he slept. He looked utterly peaceful, almost angelic, and for a moment, you just stared, letting yourself soak in the sight of him after missing him so deeply. Your chest swelled with affection, the ache of longing you'd carried melting away as you pressed a soft kiss to his bare chest. The hum of your lips against his skin made him shift slightly in his sleep, his arm tightening instinctively around you. Smiling to yourself, you moved closer, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, the scent of his skin filling your senses. You couldn't resist the temptation to pepper light, feathery kisses along his neck, lingering in the sensitive spot just below his ear. You nibbled gently, and his breathing hitched, his body stirring beneath you as his eyelashes fluttered. You smirked against his skin. Trent could feel the curl of your plump lips against him. He was drowsily confused but comforted by it. Trent stirred slightly at your touch, his muscles tensing beneath your lips. But it all became clear when your kisses started to get a bit heavier as you moved down his neck to his collarbone. Your hands grazed over his body and down his abs until you began to play with the waistband of his boxers. You slid your hand under it and Trent groaned.

"Good morning, baby," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His eyes flicked open, and for a moment, he simply gazed at you, his expression filled with adoration. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm, better than well," you replied, your voice husky with desire. "I had the best dream about you." Trent's lips curved into a playful smirk, and he pulled you closer, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. 

"Oh yeah? What kind of dream?" He purred.  You giggled, feeling a bit shy but excited to share the cheeky dream you had last night with him. 

"The kind where you couldn't keep your hands off me," you whispered, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. "Where you kissed me all over." Trent's breath hitched as you spoke, and you could feel his desire rising. His hands began to roam over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and waist, making you shiver with anticipation. 

"I can make that dream come true, you know," he said, his voice low and seductive.

"Oh, really?" you teased, looking up at him through your lashes. "And what about my dream where I was moaning your name?" You cooed. Trent's eyes darkened with desire, and he pressed his body against yours, his erection straining against your thigh. 

"I can make that happen too, baby. I love hearing you say my name." His words sent a thrill through your body, and you couldn't resist any longer. "Please, T," you begged, your voice breathless as you began to grind your core on top of his hardening cock. His lips pressed into yours for a suffocating kiss. Your body laid flush against his as you made out, laying completely overtop of him. You sat back up on his lap, straddling his waist and your tits bounced in a mesmerizing way that had Trent immediately following you up, pulling your tank top over your head swiftly.  You were gasping out a moan when his free hand came up to play with your nipples. 

“Oh my god, s-shit, that feels so good, baby.” You whined as his lips came around one of your nipples swiftly, his tongue flicking back and forth over it, surrounding it. Attending to one and then the other, swapping his mouth for his hand and his hand for his mouth. "I need you. I need to feel you inside me." You begged. Trent's eyes smoldered with passion as he positioned himself between your folds. 

"You're so needy for me, baby," he growled, his voice thick with need. "You want me to come right inside? So wet f’me already." He rattled off words but you had a hard time listening after he lined his cock up with your entrance, lifting your ass up and guided you to sink down taking all of him immediately. You were so wet it was seamless but the minimal foreplay made for pleasurable pain from the stretch of him. “You’re such good girl f’me. You okay, baby?”  You nodded and started to ride him after adjusting a little. It felt so good you could feel the knot in your stomach form almost immediately. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure, as he thrusted in a slow, deliberate rhythm upward. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he moved into you again and again. "Fuck, you feel so good," he grunted, his breath hot against your neck.

“So fucking good." You moaned in response, your nails digging into his shoulders as you urged him on.  Before he hooked his arm under your thigh, flipping you over, to be underneath him.

"Harder, T," you pleaded. "Please, fuck me harder." You begged. He obliged, his movements becoming more urgent, his hips slamming into yours as he pounded into your core. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans filled the room. Trent's dominant nature took over, and he pinned your wrists above your head, holding you down as he claimed your body.

"You like it rough, don't you, baby?" he panted, his eyes locked with yours. "You love it when I take control."

"Yeah, fuck," you cried out, your body trembling on the edge of release. Trent's thrusts became even more intense, his body a blur of motion as he drove into you with abandon. His free hand reached down, finding your clit, and began to rub it in circles, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You practically yelled as Trent hit your g-spot hard and fast, again and again and again. You could hear just how wet you were as your walls clamped around him tighter. The knot in your stomach was coming undone quicker than you expected this morning. You tried to put your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans knowing Layla was in the house but he wasn’t having that. He held your hands above you with restraint as he continued to fuck you. 

“Wanna hear how good I’m making you feel, baby.” He whispered against your neck before biting your sensitive skin only pulling another, louder, moan from you. 

“T…” you whined. “Please, I’m so close, I��m so… f-fuck!… I’m so close.” You told him squeezing your eyes shut as you started to feel your orgasm approaching. He was so deep inside that you could feel every ridge and vein. 

“Shit, just wait a little bit for me, beautiful. You can do it. Yeah? Just a little more for me. Take it like a good girl.” Trent struggled to get the words out as your pussy started to clench tighter around him. One of his large hands drew back down your body in between you two and began rubbing circles on your throbbing clit again. Your mind turned to mush. His thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier and harsher. 

“You’re such a good girl, f’me. Cum f’me now, baby. Cum all over my cock, yeah? I’m gonna fill you up, baby. Make a fucking mess on my cock while I fill you up.” Trent babbled as you came, your body aching, your eyes squeezing shut tighter again. You were gasping as Trent fucked you into your high.

“T…baby” you moaned, feeling his release painting your insides. Your body tightened, every muscle coiling with tension, and then you exploded, crying out his name as your orgasm ripped through you, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he emptied himself deep within you.

“That’s my good girl…” he said as he pumped you full of his cum extending the pleasure of your high. He laid on top of you completely spent as you both breathed heavily. Every part of Trent was so unfairly pretty you just laid there admiring every inch unable to move not just from his physical weight atop you but the weight he seemed to have on your heart.  For a moment, you both laid there, panting and sweaty, your hearts racing in unison. Trent released your wrists and cuddled into your neck, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, feeling his heart pounding against yours.

"That was so good baby," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. You smiled, contentment washing over you.  He lifted his head, his brown eyes sparkling with affection. The morning had been nothing short of perfection. You and Trent lay tangled in the soft sheets, basking in the afterglow, your bodies warm and completely at ease. The sunlight spilled over you both, illuminating the intimate serenity of the moment. Trent had his arms draped lazily over you, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, planting lazy kisses along your shoulder. You couldn't help but smile, running your fingers over his messy morning curls you relished the quiet intimacy. But peace never lasted long in your world. The sound of your bedroom door creaking open made you tense. Before you could react, Layla strode in, her presence unbothered and entirely too casual considering the situation.

"Okay, time's up," she declared, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and a smug smile. "I gave you your morning glory. Lovely to hear, by the way. Really enjoyed listening along." Her sarcastic tone was laced with amusement, her smirk widening when you groaned in embarrassment.

"Layla!" you hissed, sitting up quickly and grabbing the blanket to cover yourself. Trent, however, didn't move much-if anything, he tightened his hold on you, pulling you back against his chest as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"What? I'm just being a good friend," she said, shrugging innocently. "Jack said he'd be back soon, so, you know..." She trailed off, raising her eyebrows pointedly.

"How do you even know that?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at her.

"Oh, I checked your iMessages," she replied breezily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Lovely," you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You couldn't help but laugh, though, despite yourself. Layla always had a way of invading your space and somehow making you laugh while doing it.

"Up to you guys," she said with a grin, throwing Trent's T-shirt at him. "Just thought you'd want to know. No pressure." As she turned to leave, Trent finally shifted, his arms still wrapped around you as he sat up straighter. Instead of making any effort to move, though, he pressed his lips to your neck with a low hum. 

"Mmm, just want more of you," he murmured against your skin, his voice still husky from the morning. Layla paused in the doorway, turning back to glance at the two of you. She rolled her eyes dramatically, her expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. 

"You've ruined him, you know that, right?" she said, addressing you directly with a slight giggle. "Trent Alexander-Arnold, reduced to a lovesick puppy. Honestly, it's amazing, and I love you for it." You laughed, shaking your head as Trent grumbled something incoherent into your neck, clearly uninterested in Layla's commentary.

"Alright, I'm out," she announced, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Just don't say I didn't warn you when Jack comes storming in." And as she left, you looked over at Trent, who finally pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His smile was lazy, but the way he looked at you was full of warmth.

"She's not wrong, you know," he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"About Jack storming in?" you teased, arching an eyebrow. He chuckled, shaking his head.

 "No. About me being completely ruined by you." He kissed you then, soft and lingering, as if to prove his point. And as you melted into him, you decided that if this was being ruined, you wouldn't have it any other way.

The morning felt bittersweet as Trent darted out of your house, leaving behind the warm intimacy you’d shared. You sighed, lying back in bed, wishing things were easier. Wishing you could just wake up together, make breakfast, and spend the day entwined without the looming threat of Jack finding out. The secrecy weighed heavy, and as much as you understood why, it didn’t make it any less frustrating. You were still lost in thought when your phone buzzed, breaking you out of your melancholy. Trent’s name lit up the screen, and you answered almost immediately.

“Hi,” you murmured sweetly but not trying not to sound too eager.

“Get ready f’me,” he said, his voice warm and certain. “I’ll be there in half an hour to pick you up, yeah?” Your heart lifted at his words, a wave of relief flooding through your chest. It felt like the distance between you two, however short-lived, was unbearable now. You couldn’t be without him anymore—not even for a morning. Thirty minutes later, you were stepping out the door, butterflies flitting in your stomach as Trent pulled into the driveway. When you climbed into the passenger seat, your eyes widened in surprise—on the center console beside you was a bouquet of flowers, fresh and colorful, wrapped in brown paper.

“For you,” he said with a grin, his dimple showing as he glanced your way. You smiled, your fingers brushing over the soft petals. 

“Thank you, they’re beautiful.” You giggled. 

“You’re beautiful,” he countered smoothly, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your cheek before putting the car in gear. As he pulled out of the driveway, you glanced back toward your house, relieved to have snuck out just before Jack got back. The thrill of sneaking around should have been nerve-wracking, but all you could focus on was the way Trent’s hand drifted over to rest on your thigh, his thumb stroking lazy circles as he drove. And as the car sped down the quiet streets, you felt a flicker of hope—hope that, for a little while at least, you could have exactly what you wanted. Just you and him, no secrets, no interruptions, just the two of you stealing moments that felt like forever.

The soft rustle of the morning breeze and the gentle lapping of water against the docks set the scene for a moment you hadn’t dared to imagine. You felt the brisk wind off the water nip at your skin, but it was Trent’s warmth beside you that anchored you. His hand firmly in yours, fingers interwoven, you leaned against his shoulder, letting your worries melt away for just a little while. The bouquet of flowers lay on the bench beside you, a vibrant contrast to the stillness of the scene. They were beautiful, fragrant, and entirely unexpected—much like him returning this morning and whisking you away. You hadn’t said much since he’d picked you up, but there was no need. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was comforting, filled with the weight of unsaid emotions and the mutual understanding that neither of you wanted to be apart anymore. Trent shifted slightly, turning his body toward you. His large, warm hand cupped your cheek, and his thumb brushed against your skin. You looked up at him, and his brown eyes softened in a way that made your heart skip.

“Gimme a kiss,” he murmured, his voice low and sweet, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You hesitated, your eyes darting around the empty docks, fear flickering in the back of your mind. 

“What if someone sees?” you whispered, voice laced with worry. His thumb stilled, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned closer, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke. 

“Then they see me with my girl,” he said softly, his voice steady and sure, grounding you in a way only he could. And just like that, your doubts vanished. Trent closed the small distance between you, and the world seemed to stop. His lips met yours, and it was everything. It wasn’t rushed or hesitant. It was steady and confident, yet gentle. His lips moved with a purpose, and you felt the depth of his feelings in every second. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an unspoken promise, a declaration of how much he cared. The warmth of his hand on your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the salt in the air, the sunlight catching his skin—it all came together in a moment that felt too perfect to be real. When he finally pulled back, his eyes lingered on you, his hands still cradling your face like you were something fragile, something precious. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. “You’re so beautiful, baby” he whispered, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t believe it. Your cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help the shy smile that spread across your lips. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to hide, to worry, to second-guess what this was. In that moment, it was just you and Trent—no secrets, no complications, just you and the boy who made you feel like the center of the universe. The weight of his words settled heavily in your chest, warming you in a way you hadn’t expected. Trent’s voice was soft but firm, filled with an urgency you rarely heard from him. His hand lingered on your thigh, grounding you as you tried to process everything he was saying.

“I know it’s been shitty,” he started again, his tone apologetic but resolute, his gaze fixed on yours. “And I know this doesn’t fix the hiding or make it all better, but…” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small blue box that instantly caught your attention. Your breath hitched as he held it out to you. “Before you say I didn’t have to, or that it’s too much, blah blah,” he teased lightly, “I did have to. I needed to, because I want you to know that I’m locked in with you. Alright?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying the emotions he was working so hard to steady. Tears threatened to spill as you tried to steady yourself.  Guilt about texting Josh refusing to leave your mind, but leaving this moment wasn’t an option either.

“I know… we’re just figuring it out,” you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion.

“Yeah, I know, baby. And I’m sorry we are,” he said, leaning closer and brushing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But please, you gotta trust me here. I know what I want. I want you. None of the games. None of the hiding. We’ll get there, yeah? Just stay with me.” His forehead pressed gently against yours as his words sunk in, and the lump in your throat grew heavier. 

“Promise?” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears began to fall.

“I promise,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of conviction. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had stilled. “I’ve got us, yeah?” You nodded, unable to speak, tears slipping down your cheeks as he reached up to brush them away with a soft hum.

“Want to open that for me, please?” he cooed, his voice gentle but encouraging. Your hands shook as you took the box from him, its weight both literal and symbolic. The unmistakable Tiffany blue sent your heart racing, and as you opened the lid, the sunlight caught on the diamonds of a delicate lock bracelet inside. It was breathtaking, sparkling like a thousand tiny stars.

“T…” you began, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to tell him it was too much, that he didn’t have to do this. But Trent was already shaking his head, cutting you off before you could even start. 

“Nah, stop, baby. I told you. I don’t want to hear it.” His tone was gentle but unwavering. “I just need you to know—I’m locked in. I’m in. Completely.” His eyes searched yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your heart feel like it might burst. You wanted to say so much, to tell him everything you felt, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you nodded, a tearful smile breaking through as you slipped the bangle onto your wrist. The cool metal was a perfect fit, a constant reminder of everything he was saying, of everything he promised.

“I love it,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Baby… you know, I…” You sighed and took a deep breath. You wanted to tell him so bad. You looked at him and your heart hurt. You loved him. You really did but the words wouldn’t come out. “I really want this.” you said. You finally got out some words though they weren’t the ones you wanted, the ones he deserved.

“I really want this,” he echoed without hesitation, his voice soft but sure, as if he’d been waiting to say it for so long. Slowly, you reached for him, your hands trembling as you cupped his face. And as Trent leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss filled with all the love and promises you could ever need, you knew this moment would stay with you forever.

Trent shifted in his seat at the kitchen island in your kitchen, drumming his fingers nervously on the surface. The air between you both was tense but charged with unspoken words, the kind that made the small space of the kitchen feel overwhelmingly intimate despite the island separating you. He wanted you closer, but for now, he settled for stealing glances at you, his smirk betraying the cool demeanor he was trying so hard to maintain. Jack, however, was completely oblivious to the undercurrent.

“That’s massive, bro,” he said, grinning about the Premier League Awards invite Trent had just thrown out. “You sure you want me to come? Big moment for you, lad.” He looked at Trent excitedly. 

“I mean… yeah, I’m asking mate. I’d love you to come with,” Trent replied casually, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. “It’s on the 17th…” He cooed and Jack’s brow furrowed. “Oh shit… is that when you’re flying out? What was it again? You’d be in Amsterdam?” The mention of Jack’s work trip to Amsterdam lit a fire in his eyes. His excitement briefly overshadowed his disappointment. 

“Damn, you’re right. I can’t get out of that either.” He tapped the countertop, considering. Trent feigned a disappointed sigh, though inside, he was quietly relieved. Actually, this was all a very carefully thought out plan.

 “Yeah, shame, man. Would’ve been a laugh.” Then, almost as an afterthought—though it was anything but—he looked at you. “Y/N, you wanna come along instead? Could be fun.” He delivered it with a casual smirk, his tone light, but his eyes betrayed him. They were focused, watching you carefully, measuring your reaction. Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of a night out with Trent, no hiding, no excuses, even if it was in a sea of strangers, had your pulse racing. But you knew better than to seem too eager. Shrugging, you leaned casually against the counter. 

“Eh…” You let your words trail off, pretending to consider. Jack scoffed, his expression incredulous. “What is it?” You asked, acting as if you hadn’t been clinging to every word that was said. 

“End of Season Prem Awards, Y/N.  What’s with the hesitation? Trenty’s asking you to an event, don’t be ungrateful about it.” He cooed, pinching between your neck and your shoulders as he moved past you. 

“I don’t know,” you teased, dragging it out just enough to keep Trent on edge. Jack rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. 

“Nah, you’re going. You’re not saying no to this. Go, seriously.” Jack doubled down. Trent had played his best friend and as cynical as it was, he wanted you over anything. You glanced at Trent, whose smirk had widened just enough to tell you he knew you were playing along. 

“Okay, yeah, I’ll go,” you said, a small smile breaking through as you tried to contain the excitement bubbling under your skin. As soon as the words left your mouth, something shifted in the room. Jack looked between the two of you, a flicker of confusion passing across his face. The realization that you and Trent would be attending a formal event together—alone—began to settle uncomfortably in his mind.

“Wait…” Jack started, narrowing his eyes at you. “That’s kind of… weird, innit?” His gaze shifting and then landing on Trent, his brow furrowed.  

“What’s weird?” you asked, your voice light and nonchalant.

“I don’t know. You two going together. Like, I get it—it’s fine. But…” Jack trailed off, his brows staying knitted. Trent leaned forward, his elbows on the counter, expertly diffusing the tension. 

“Mate, she’s a better date than you anyway. Less hassle, more fun. Trust me.” He laughed.  Jack let out a chuckle, shaking his head. 

“Whatever, man. Just don’t let her ruin your night.” He snipped with a teasing smirk to you. 

Trent shifted uncomfortably in his chair, Tyler’s words weighing heavily on him. The invitation to the awards open on the laptop in front of them, but he hadn’t been able to focus on it for the past ten minutes. He leaned back, running a hand over his face. Tyler had asked who Trent was bringing and since then… it had gone tense.  

“Just Jack’s sister,” he muttered bitterly, more to himself than Tyler, though the words hung awkwardly in the air. They tasted wrong. You were so much more than that, and the way he said it made him cringe. Tyler leaned forward, his eyebrows raised.

“Your best mate’s sister… who you’re fucking,” he repeated with pointed emphasis, his tone making it clear there was no skirting around the truth. Trent groaned and shook his head, letting his hands fall to his lap. 

“Nah, bro, you’re making it sound horrible. Like I’m sneaking around or something.” Tyler shot him a skeptical look. 

“But you are sneaking around, aren’t you?” he pressed. “Mate, if Jack finds out from someone else—and you know he will—it’s going to be so much worse. You’re dragging this out, and it’s only going to hurt him more.” Trent stared at the table, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Tyler wasn’t wrong. This whole situation had been gnawing at him for weeks, actualyl months. He thought about how easy it was to get caught up in the moments with you, how right it felt when he was with you, and how much harder it was to deal with the reality of keeping it all hidden.

“I know, bro,” he admitted quietly. His voice carried the weight of his guilt. “I know I need to tell him. I’m just—” 

“Scared?” Tyler offered bluntly. Trent shot him a sharp look, but there was no point denying it. 

“Yeah,” he admitted after a long pause. “I don’t want to lose Jack over this. But I can't lose her either.” Tyler’s expression softened, though his tone stayed firm. 

“You’ve got to stop living in limbo, mate. If she means as much to you as I think she does, it’s time to step up. Jack’s gonna be pissed, yeah, but he’ll get over it. You’re not just some random lad messing about with his sister.” Trent nodded, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table. 

“I’m in, Ty. I’m in so deep. I’m so serious about her. I even told her, I’m locked in.” He cooed sincerely. 

“Then act like it,” Tyler said simply. He glanced back at the screen, highlighting your name on the spreadsheet. “You want me to put ‘+1’ or her name? It’s your call.” Trent exhaled deeply, the weight of the decision sinking in. Finally, he leaned forward, typing your name into the guest list himself.

“She’s not just a +1,” he muttered, more to himself than Tyler. Tyler smiled knowingly. 

“Good. Then go make sure you’ve got a plan for Jack, mate. Because you’re running out of time.” He expectedly looked at Trent as if he needed to move this second. 

It was one of the last games of the season. Manchester United against Liverpool. Or Trent versus Josh essentially. You sat at your house watching with Layla. You could’ve gone, Jack and Noah had, but you gave some lame excuse. You said it was a stomach bug or something, which was a lie, except right now, your stomach did hurt. It hurt at the idea of Trent and Josh interacting, even if it was only on the pitch. Time ticked on and then suddenly the game on TV escalated rapidly, tension boiling over as the camera zoomed in on a confrontation. Trent and Josh were chest-to-chest, a referee stepping in but doing little to separate them. You could see the heated words exchanged between them. You could barely read their lips but that didn’t stop you from trying. Layla’s calm façade faltered as she sat up straighter, pulling her hand from yours to clutch a cushion tightly. 

“Oh, God, this is bad,” she muttered.

“Layla, what if they—” your voice cracked, the words catching in your throat as your pulse quickened.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. They won’t actually fight, its part of the game,” she reassured you, though her tone betrayed her nerves. But then Josh yanked Trent’s shirt, and Trent shoved him back harder than before, both of them glaring daggers at each other. Your stomach dropped. 

“Layla, I can’t—” you began, tears pricking your eyes as you watched the referee blow his whistle.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” Layla reached for your hand again, her own trembling now. “They’re just hyped up, you know how football is. Adrenaline and all that, yeah? Nothing’s gonna happen. Right?” She glanced nervously back at the screen. The crowd erupted. The commentators were buzzing about how uncharacteristic the scuffle was for Trent, emphasizing how composed he usually was on the field. “Not today, apparently,” Layla muttered under her breath, her attempt at humor falling flat. When Trent finally walked away, shaking his head, you exhaled sharply, realizing you’d been holding your breath. But your relief was short-lived.  Your heart raced as the match resumed. But your mind was no longer on the game—it was on Trent. You reached for your phone, your fingers trembling as you debated whether to text him or wait.

“What are you doing?” Layla asked, her voice low but laced with concern.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered. “I just need to know he’s okay. What Josh said.” Layla sighed, pulling you into a side hug.

“He’ll be fine, babe. As much as it might be about you, it might not be. It’s part of the game. Let him come to you. You need to breathe, okay? Let’s just get through this match, and then we’ll figure out what to do.” You nodded hesitantly, leaning into her as the match continued. But your focus remained glued to Trent every time the camera panned to him, his expression hard, his jaw clenched. You knew this wasn’t just about football. And you had no idea how much worse things could get.

Down on the field, the tension was palpable. Josh smirked, leaning in just enough for Trent to hear, his voice dripping with venom. 

“What’s it like taking my sloppy seconds, bro?” Josh snipped shoving Trent trying to get him to break. And break he did. Trent’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He stared straight through Josh, his voice low and cutting. 

“She dipped because you could find the goal before you found a clit and you haven’t score since 2010.”  Trent snapped. Josh’s grin faltered for a moment, but then he shrugged it off, laughing bitterly. 

“Whatever, mate. You know she hit me up the other week, right? Guess your shit date night didn’t go so well, huh.” He smugly smiled. Trent saw red, shoving Josh hard, sending him stumbling backward. Trent couldn’t believe Josh knew about the date, Trent couldn’t believe you texted him. He was livid.

“Fuck off, bro,” he spat, his voice louder now, drawing the attention of the referee, who immediately ran over to break it up. The ref got between them, issuing warnings, but the fire in Trent’s eyes didn’t extinguish. He was fuming, but he let it go—for now.

The game stayed nil, nil into the half but the tensions were high, if not higher with every passing second making you more nervous. Your chin rested on your knees, your eyes flicking between the screen and the clock, before you gave in and buried your forehead against your legs, too anxious to watch the second half unfold. The commentators’ voices boomed through the speakers, heightening your sense of dread. Layla sat next to you silenced by the tension. The clock was running down, dipping into the 80th minute, and you couldn’t help but feel the nerves crawling through your skin. And then the game shifted. Trent surged down the right wing, perfectly timing his run to meet a cross. With one fluid motion, he sent the ball rocketing into the back of the net. Then suddenly, you heard it—Alexander-Arnold, goal in the 81st minute!  Your head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief. You blinked, and there he was, Trent, sprinting towards the sideline, arms outstretched, his face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart soar. The entire stadium erupted around him, but all you could focus on was the way that smile dropped.  He slowed his run as he pointed to the camera gesturing for it to come with a finger. He bent down, grabbed it with both hands, and pressed a deliberate, lingering kiss onto the lens. Trent wasn’t just celebrating the goal he was claiming you. Back at home, the living room erupted.

“OH MY GOD!” Layla screamed, jumping up from the couch.

“Oh my fucking God! What was that! Did he just… Oh my fucking God” you shrieked, clutching her arm as you both lost it. The commentators on TV were stunned. 

“What a moment from Trent Alexander-Arnold! A goal to remember, and a statement, it seems!”

“Fuck off!” She squealed. “Did he just—” Layla turned to you, wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open. 

“He did,” you said breathlessly, heart pounding as you stared at the screen. On the field, Trent jogged back to his team, his smirk undeniable, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. You couldn’t stop smiling, your chest full to bursting. It wasn’t just a goal. It was a message—and it was for you.

After the game, Jack and Noah caught up with Trent. The post-match energy was still buzzing, but both of them were visibly curious about the heated exchange on the field and the subsequent goal.

“Mate… what a goal….” Jack told him with a brotherly grab of his shoulder shaking Trent. 

“Thanks bro.” Trent said, shaking his head as he came down from the high of it all. 

“Wild celly I won’t lie… new girl’s got you thinking about her even during the 90… damn.” Noah laughed, dapping him up. Trent hummed as he stretched with an exhale trying not to think about the comment. “Yo, but also…what was all that about?” Noah asked, his brow furrowed. Trent leaned back against the wall, running a hand over his face. 

“What d’you mean?” he muttered, already knowing exactly what they meant.

“The beef with Josh,” Noah clarified. “I mean, the kid’s a fucking prick, we all know that but why were you going at him like that?” He asked earnestly.  Trent clenched his jaw, shaking his head sharply. 

“Fuck him, bro,” he snapped. “Lad’s got no respect.” Jack, more amused than concerned, chimed in. 

“Did he say something about Y/N?” he asked casually, not thinking much of it. At the mention of your name, Trent’s stomach tightened. He avoided Jack’s eyes, his voice clipped. 

“He just… I don’t know, man. He was talking shit. That’s all.” Noah exchanged a glance with Jack, sensing there was more to it, but they didn’t press further. 

“Well, whatever,” Noah shrugged. “You got the last word with that goal anyway. Loved the kiss, by the way—real humble,” he added with a smirk. Trent forced a chuckle, but his mind was spinning. The memory of Josh’s smug grin and his claim echoed in his head: You know she hit me up the other week? Was he lying? Or worse—was he telling the truth? Had you texted Josh? The thought made Trent’s chest burn with jealousy. He was fuming now, not just at Josh but at the idea of you reaching out to someone who clearly didn’t deserve your attention. He barely heard Jack or Noah’s conversation as they walked off. His fists clenched at his sides. He knew he had to talk to you, but how could he ask without revealing his own insecurities—or worse, giving away what he’d overheard?

The evening had settled into a calm rhythm before everything unraveled. You and Layla had been curled up on the couch, half-watching TV and half-chatting about nothing in particular post game. The dim lighting in the room was soft and comforting, the faint hum of the house settling around you. It had been quiet since your eruption after the goal and even more so that Jack and Noah were out, leaving you with the freedom to breathe, to just exist without the weight of secrets pressing on you. But that peace didn’t last long. The headlights pulling into the driveway were the first signal. You heard the crunch of gravel beneath tires, and you instinctively glanced out the window, expecting Jack and Noah. Sure enough, you saw their figures stepping out of the car, their laughter faintly audible even from inside. You relaxed slightly—until the second set of headlights came into view, illuminating the driveway behind them. Your stomach dropped.Layla noticed the change in your posture instantly. Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to follow your gaze. When she saw the familiar car pulling in, her expression shifted from curiosity to quiet understanding. She placed a hand on your arm.

“It’s fine,” she said softly, though her voice wavered just enough to betray her own unease. “Jack and Noah are here. It’s not like anything can happen.” You wanted to believe her, but the guilt and fear bubbling inside you were too loud to ignore. Trent’s car came to a stop, and you saw his silhouette as he stepped out, his movements as measured and deliberate as always. The sight of him—a figure so familiar yet so out of place in this setting—sent a wave of emotions crashing over you. The front door opened, and Noah’s voice boomed into the room, full of excitement and energy. 

“You watch the match?!” he called out, his grin wide as he kicked off his shoes. Layla laughed, turning to greet him with her usual warmth. 

“We did. Good win,” she said lightly, glancing at you to see if you would add anything. But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your focus entirely on the sound of footsteps approaching behind Noah. Jack entered next, his face slightly flushed from the chill outside, and he immediately zeroed in on you. 

“Feeling any better?” he asked, his tone softer than usual. He wraped an arm around you in a loose hug. You hummed a vague response, trying to keep your expression neutral, though your heart was hammering in your chest. Jack let go of you with a playful shove. “We’re doing a fire out back. Trenty’s behind us if you’re interested in joining,” he said casually, grabbing a few things from the kitchen before heading toward the patio. The mention of Trent’s name made your breath hitch, and Layla squeezed your hand again, offering a reassuring smile. 

“Come on,” she said, trying to pull you toward the back door. But before you could move, the air in the room shifted, turning cold and charged all at once. Trent stepped inside. He scanned the room quickly, his expression carefully composed, but his eyes lingered on you for just a second too long. Layla greeted him first, her voice light but distant. She didn’t approach him, though, and her hesitance only made the tension thicker. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him directly, instead busying yourself with an offer to help Jack outside. But Trent’s presence was impossible to ignore, no matter how hard you tried. The tension in the room was almost palpable as Trent stepped inside. His tall frame filled the doorway, and though his expression was neutral, you could feel the weight of his gaze land on you. Your heart thudded in your chest as you grabbed a stack of plates, pretending to be entirely preoccupied with Jack’s vague instructions about bringing something for the firepit. Layla gave Trent a polite smile, her hand still loosely wrapped around yours, but she didn’t make a move toward him. She knew better. The room felt like it was holding its breath, and you could sense her hesitance—like one wrong move would make everything unravel.

“What a fucking game though,” Noah said, breaking the silence, his voice loud and boisterous. He clapped Trent on the back with a grin. “Got United rattled, mate.” Trent smirked faintly, nodding. 

“Yeah, good to get the three points,” he replied, his tone calm, though his eyes kept darting back to you. Jack turned to look at him with an amused expression. 

“About time you lot did them in,” he teased, grabbing himself a beer and heading toward the back door. “Come on. Let’s get a fire going.” Layla nudged you gently, her fingers squeezing yours in silent encouragement. 

“You’re good,” she whispered, low enough that only you could hear. But the words felt hollow as Trent lingered by the door, letting everyone else pass him by. He didn’t move. He stayed there, waiting, his presence impossible to ignore. His eyes bore into yours, silently begging for even a sliver of your attention. You glanced at him briefly, feeling the pull, but you couldn’t—not here, not now. The risk was too high. So you stepped out onto the patio, the cool night air hit you like a wave of relief, but it did little to calm the storm raging in your chest. Layla followed close behind, her concerned gaze flitting between you and the door, where Trent still stood just inside. It wasn’t going to be an easy night. You could feel it in your bones.

The lights from the backyard flickered against the walls of the dimly lit living room, casting warm shadows that did nothing to ease the ice-cold tension between you and Trent. You could still hear muffled laughter outside, the crackling fire, the clinking of bottles as Jack and Noah carried on with, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside, Layla beside them very aware that after you had tucked inside, Trent followed. But here, in the suffocating space of the house, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Trent stood before you, shoulders squared, chest heaving as though he had just run the length of the pitch. He had cornered you, not letting your game of avoidance carry on. His face was taut, his usually soft eyes hardened with fury. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him like this—if you ever had.

“Did you text him?” he asked, his voice low but razor-sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. You blinked, his words barely registering as you scrambled to think of what to say, how to diffuse the situation. His intensity made your heart race, panic rising in your chest. 

“I…” Your voice came out in a whisper, trembling under his piercing gaze.

“Did you text him?” he demanded again, louder this time, his voice echoing in the room as he stepped closer. His towering frame loomed over you, and for the first time, you felt truly small in his presence.

“Yes,” you admitted, the word falling from your lips like a stone, heavy and cold. You watched as Trent’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he shut his eyes tight trying to compose himself as rage washed over him. 

“Why?” he snapped, his tone laced with disbelief, his voice shaking. “Why the fuck would you do that, Y/N?” He asked you for the third time but this each time hurting more then the last. 

“I—” You tried to find the words, but they caught in your throat, your mind scrambling to explain something you could barely justify to yourself. “I thought you… I thought you were like him,” you finally blurted out, the words spilling out in a rush before you could stop them. Trent froze, his expression shifting from anger to something more devastating. He stepped back as if your words had physically struck him, his head shaking slowly. You weren’t sure why you resorted to texting Josh in the heat of seeing Trent’s instagram. Maybe it was past trauma. You imagined if he was around girls in a club like Jack had said, maybe he’d act how Josh used to, how you felt you would always be treated. 

“You thought I was like him?” he repeated, his voice quieter now but filled with incredulity, his brow furrowing in pain. “Are you mad? I would never be fucking like that prick. I honestly can’t believe you think I’d ever be similar to that fucking lad.” His voice cracked slightly, his breath hitching as he raked a hand over his hair. He was so beyond offended. “I’d never treat you like he did. I never have, I never would. That’s so fucked up Y/N.” You opened your mouth to respond, to explain but no words came out. The weight of his hurt, the betrayal in his voice, rendered you speechless. “You want him?” Trent asked suddenly, his voice rising again, anger flaring back to life. “Go fucking be with him then!” he shouted, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch.

“T,” you sobbed, the tears spilling over now, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “It was just a text. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking—I didn’t mean it like that. Please.” Trent shook his head, stepping back as if to put more space between you. He was pacing now, his hand running over his face as he tried to process what you’d just said. Outside the fire burned, and as Layla, Jack, and Noah watched the wood go up in flames, you watched your relationship do just the same.   

“It’s not just a text to me!” he yelled, his voice cracking slightly.  “Do you know what it’s like to protect you from that piece of shit? Just for you to then go and pull this shit? To risk it all and give you everything I can—everything except for one fucking thing I asked for your patience with – one thing I’m fucking working on — and you go and text him?” You could hear the pain in his voice now, underneath the anger, and it broke you even further. “Why is it only my job to get this to work? How come you’re able to just sit back… you complain when we’re out, you complain when we’re in…” Trent grunted out of frustration. He just couldn’t fucking handle it anymore. 

 “T, I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice shaking as you stepped toward him, desperate to close the distance between you. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem,” Trent interrupted harshly, his tone cutting you off. “You didn’t think. You’re so ready to fucking throw this all to the wind. You didn’t think about me, about us. About everything I’ve done to try to make this work, everything you’ve done. I told you at the dock… I told you.” You took a deep breath as his voice trembled. He was fighting back tears. “ I told you I was locked in. Did that not mean anything to you? Do you just not care?” His words hit you like a slap, and your knees felt weak under the weight of his anger. 

“I do.” You sobbed. “If meant everything.” Your tears bordering on hysterics. “I know I fucked up,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in between gasping breaths and tears as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to hold yourself together.

“No,” Trent said firmly, his voice low but resolute. “This isn’t how you handle problems. You gotta fucking grow up. I’m here, I said I’m here and I’m doing what I can but it’s starting to feel like that will never be enough for you so what the fuck do you want, Y/N… ” The finality of his words left you breathless, your chest heaving as you tried to fight back the sobs threatening to break free. Trent stared at you for a moment longer, his jaw tense, his eyes flickering with emotions you couldn’t name. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the house back outside.

“You.” You whimpered hating yourself more than you ever had.  The moment the door closed behind him, the dam broke. You sank to the floor, your knees giving out as sobs wracked your body. The cold metal of the bracelet he gave you burned against your skin. Every ounce of tension, fear, and guilt you’d been holding in came flooding out, leaving you a trembling mess on the cold, hard floor. The laughter and chatter from outside felt like a cruel mockery of your pain, the warmth of the bonfire and the camaraderie of friends so far removed from the storm raging inside you. You didn’t know how long you stayed there, your tears soaking into the sleeves of your sweater as you tried to catch your breath. All you knew was that Trent’s words kept echoing in your mind, louder and louder until they drowned out everything else: You gotta grow up. You gotta grow up.

When you finally pulled yourself together you just stayed inside, not wanting to ruin the fun. You sat motionless on the sofa, trying to will yourself into invisibility until eventually the others filtered into the house. The warmth of the fire lingered on their skin, their chatter carrying a carefree energy that contrasted sharply with the heaviness in your chest. Jack and Layla headed to the kitchen, their voices muffled as they rummaged for snacks. Noah sprawled out on the lounger with a dramatic sigh, tossing out demands for Jack to bring him a beer. You didn’t dare glance at Trent, though you could feel his presence like a magnetic pull. It wasn’t until you heard his voice—quiet, almost hesitant—that your heart shattered anew.

“Can I sit here?” He asked. The question hung in the air, carrying with it an undercurrent of tension that made it hard to breathe. You finally looked up at him, your bloodshot eyes meeting his. For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable, though the tight line of his jaw hinted at the turmoil beneath. His gaze softened slightly as he took in your tear-streaked face, the way you seemed so small, so broken. You bit your lip to keep from crying again and nodded, unable to trust your voice. Trent slid into the spot beside you, his knee brushing yours in the cramped space. He didn’t sit at a polite distance; instead, he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. As if he couldn’t bear the silence between you, Trent leaned across you, his body covering yours, his arm brushing against yours as he reached for the blanket draped on the armrest. Your breath caught at the closeness, your body frozen in place. He straightened, settling back into his seat as he unfolded the blanket. Without a word, he tucked it around you, his hands lingering for a moment to ensure you were wrapped snugly. No matter what… he’d always take care of you. He promised you that. Even if it didn’t work, he promised. It was such a small, gentle gesture, but it unraveled you completely. You blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you struggled to keep your composure. How could he still be so tender with you after everything? 

Jack and Layla returned, their presence pulling you back to reality. Layla shot you a knowing look, her brow furrowed in concern as she took in the palpable tension. Jack, oblivious, grabbed the remote and began flipping through channels, Noah chiming in from the lounger with loud, exaggerated groans at every suggestion. Trent joined in the casual back-and-forth, his voice calm and even as though nothing had happened. You stayed silent, barely able to focus on their conversation. Instead, you stayed close to him, your body inching closer bit by bit until your arm brushed his. When he didn’t pull away, you dared to press your side against his, seeking comfort in his proximity. Your head found its way to his shoulder, resting there tentatively. Trent didn’t move or say a word, but you felt the way his body relaxed ever so slightly beneath your touch, his breath steady and warm. Jack finally settled on something to watch, the TV filling the room with light and sound, but you didn’t care what was on. All that mattered was that Trent hadn’t pushed you away—that he was still here, letting you lean on him despite everything.The fight wasn’t over—you both knew that—but for now, in this fragile moment, it felt like you could start to piece things back together. The room had fallen into a still, quiet rhythm. The flickering light from the TV cast soft shadows on the walls, Layla’s light snores punctuating the low hum of the NBA commentary. Jack and Noah were locked into the game, their occasional murmurs about plays blending seamlessly into the background. The fire outside had gone out, leaving behind only the faint smell of smoke drifting through the back door that was still creaked open because everyone claimed it wasn’t them and now were too lazy to go close it. You couldn’t help but feel it mirrored the state of your relationship—burnt down to embers, uncertain if it could be reignited.

“Gonna share?” Trent’s whisper was low and soft, cutting through your thoughts. You looked up at him, his expression unreadable save for the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasn’t meeting your eyes fully, instead keeping his gaze casual and tilted toward the TV, but you knew he was waiting for you. You didn’t say a word, simply moving the blanket to cover the both of you. It felt like a tentative truce, the weight of it heavy with unsaid words and fragile hope.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible. Your body leaned into his, seeking comfort but still hesitant. His arm shifted, draping over your shoulders with calculated ease, as if to keep appearances for the others in the room. Yet, beneath the guise of nonchalance, his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns on your shoulder. “I made a mistake because I was scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “You know it’s only you. You know it’s always been you. You said it yourself…” Your words felt fragile as they hung between you, but you pressed on, desperate to make him understand. You tilted your head, brushing a featherlight kiss to his shoulder. The subtle gesture wasn’t missed—it made him exhale deeply, his posture softening as though a weight had lifted. His hand slid under the blanket, searching for yours. When his fingers finally found yours, he didn’t hesitate. His grip was firm, steady, and grounding, his thumb tracing slow circles against your knuckles. You didn’t care if they heard at this point, but you kept your words quiet just for him. “I’m sorry I haven’t shown you that,” you continued in a hushed tone, your voice cracking as tears welled in your eyes. “That I haven’t acted like I’ve only ever been yours… because I am, I have been.” A tear slipped down your cheek, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. You felt his hand tighten around yours at the words, a silent acknowledgment that he’d heard you. He kept his gaze on the TV, his expression stoic as his other hand flexed on your shoulder. The world outside seemed to fade, the quiet hum of the game and the steady rhythm of your breathing cocooning you both in a fragile bubble. Trent didn’t speak, but his actions said enough. He wasn’t ready to forgive fully, and you didn’t expect him to. But the way he held you, the way his hand lingered in yours, and the subtle relaxation of his body against you told you one thing: he wasn’t giving up. For now, that would have to be enough as you let your eyes flutter closed, your exhaustion from the day catching up to you.

The room was cloaked in the dim glow of the TV, the late-night commentary muffled beneath the gentle hum of the world outside. Jack stretched, standing up from his spot, his movements quiet but deliberate. Layla had already disappeared to your room, and Noah was sprawled across the couch, fast asleep, his soft snores filling the silence. Jack’s gaze drifted to the two of you, curled up on the loveseat. You and Trent, fast asleep, nestled so comfortably close it looked almost innocent. Your head rested on Trent’s shoulder, his arm draped lazily over you, the blanket drawn up to your chins like you’d been caught mid-conversation and drifted off. Something about the scene tugged at Jack’s instincts, his brows furrowing slightly. He narrowed his eyes, lingering just long enough to feel a flicker of suspicion. But nothing seemed overtly wrong—just two people who’d clearly fallen asleep watching the game. Still, something didn’t sit right. Jack shook his head, chalking it up to exhaustion. He turned away, heading toward his room without another word. What he didn’t see, hidden beneath the blanket, hidden right under his nose, was the way Trent’s hand was wrapped securely around yours, fingers intertwined. Even in sleep, his grip was steadfast, as if silently vowing to hold on no matter what. Jack left it alone for now. But the questions in his mind were far from gone.

And finally the night of the awards came and it couldn’t have come at a more awkward time. Things were tense to say the least between you and Trent after the fight and the Man United game. And in an even more awkward twist Jack no longer had a conflict so he was home.  The living room was loud, buzzing with laughter and friendly chaos. Jack, Noah, and the rest of the group had taken over, sprawled across the sofas and armchairs, trading jabs and jokes. The scent of leftover pizza mingled with the faint cologne of too many boys packed into one space. The TV was on, but no one was really watching it; their attention was squarely on you as you descended the stairs in a Retrofête nude sheer maxi dress. [index ref] It was covered in all over sequins, with an opened back, and a feathered hem. You wanted Trent to like it but you felt shy in front of all of his friends and your brother with your figure on full display  You’d spent longer than you wanted to admit getting ready, smoothing every detail, unsure if you even had the right to look forward to the night. Things with Trent were still unresolved, the fight hanging in the air like a storm cloud. But you wanted tonight to be different. You needed it to be.

“Go on!  Someone’s looking lush for their date with Trentski!” Noah hollered from the couch, clapping loudly as the rest of the boys joined in, whistling and cheering like kids at a school assembly. 

“It’s not a date mate… I was supposed to go,” Jack muttered, shoving Noah on the sofa. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your face.

 “Alright, calm down,” you muttered, smoothing your dress and pretending their attention didn’t make you self-conscious. You felt like you were going to a year eight dance under the eyes of the boys. “Jack, T’s gonna be here soon, okay?” you reminded him, ignoring the comment. Your voice was steady, but your stomach churned with anticipation.

“Yeah, he texted. Don’t embarrass yourself tonight, yeah?” he teased with a smirk, dodging your halfhearted swat as you passed by him. The sound of tires crunching in the driveway made your heart skip. You straightened instinctively, glancing towards the door as your palms grew damp. The boys, oblivious to your inner turmoil, kept laughing and joking, but the sound faded as you focused on the moment about to unfold. And then the door opened. Trent stepped in, looking sharp in his tailored suit, his presence commanding without him even trying. The room seemed to still for just a second, the energy shifting. You caught his gaze, and despite everything, the corner of his mouth tugged up in that familiar, cocky smile.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 14 - Noah? xx

[kanencrow]

Bold and Breathless - Natalie Scatorccio | One Shot

Summary: When hunting with Natalie turns into a game of who's the better shooter, you find yourself kissing her on a whim of confidence (basically just a rewrite of that scene between Natalie and Travis, except it's you taking his place).

Warnings: Kissing, Swearing, Talks/Descriptions of Periods.

A/N: All characters are 18+ by default. Implied afab!reader, but can be interpreted however you want. Also, this is my first post about Yellowjackets, and I've had this drafted in my Google Docs for, like... almost a year, so enjoy!

Word Count: 2300+

Your finger teased the trigger of the rifle in your arms while your pupils flickered about the forest, taking in the scenery and what it carried. All you could see was the lush life of greenery and trees, but when it came to animals of any kind, the signs of them were few and far between. The plush of your cheek used the wooden buttstock as its personal resting place as you gripped the outstretching barrel of the weapon, and you could feel the presence of Natalie right behind you. Although her existence reminded you that you weren't alone, it only increased your embarrassment, due to the fact that you and her were competing against each other, for the sake of making the act of hunting less melancholic.

It wasn't often that you allowed your patience to waver. Though, after a moment longer with nothing showing itself as a feasible target, you quietly huffed and lowered the rifle down, as you deflated into the curved tree you used as your own personal perch. Frustration bloomed, like a wave of heat washing over you, and Natalie noticed your attitude, when she approached you from your left and sighed knowingly as she crinkled the piece of paper she held between her fingers. "Ah, giving up makes sense," she muttered. Her voice was low, which emphasized the raspiness of her natural tone, and you slowly turned your head to meet her eyes with a deadpan that was directed towards her. "You're too far behind to ever catch up."

You turned your body and rested your back up against the tree as you continued to stare at her. She held a cocky smirk on her lips, and although you wanted to show your frustration towards her egotistical nature, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything close to a quip. All you could do was shrug your shoulders and look down at the rifle you cradled in your arms. "Is saying that I'm on my period a valid excuse for my suckiness right now?" you questioned thoughtfully, your eyebrows furrowing in wonder.

"Nope," Natalie replied, her lips popping the 'P' in the word she spoke. You gave her what you could only describe as a pout in response to her denial, and she mockingly frowned at you, but there was still that added affection you could sense coming from the action. "We're synced up, so whatever you're feeling, I'm probably feeling it too," she stated, which made your features scrunch up into a grimace, hating the concept of periods as a whole. The Midol you took in the morning lessened the intense cramps you always got on the first day. You made sure to give your hunting partner one too when she first woke up this morning.

She seemed awfully chipper for someone who was bleeding from the inside, though.

You were a little envious of her.

You let out an almost mute groan when the corkscrew of a cramp spread throughout your lower abdomen. The singular pill clearly hadn't done much for your annoying symptoms, and Natalie seemed to recognize that when her eyes glanced down to the rifle in your arms. She noted the way you clutched it tighter for a moment, which caused your muscles to tense, before you eventually loosened your hold on the gun and let out a fleeting huff that conveyed whatever discomfort you were feeling had passed.

"Where's Travis?" you asked unconsciously, suddenly moving on from the earlier topic you and she shared, while you settled the rifle down and leaned it up against the bark beside you. "He's not experiencing debilitating cramps right now. He should be doing this shit," you muttered grumpily, which earned a chuckle from the blonde, as she stepped forward slightly, lessening the distance between the two of you.

"I, uh... kinda just wanted it to be us this time," Natalie muttered, her voice quiet. You lifted your eyes to connect them with her own, and while she stared at you through her lashes, fidgeting with the piece of paper in her hands, you felt your stomach flutter with an appreciative sensation. One that filled you with warmth and excitement, rather than the usual discomfort you had been feeling for the majority of the day. "He's... somewhere, doing... something." She brought her hand up and waved it carelessly, and although the statement was somewhat worrisome, you laughed.

It was a sound that brought a grin to Natalie's cheeks, when she lifted her chin to level her gaze with your own. You shook your head in amusement, appreciating the comical nature, whether or not she intended for it to be such, as you leaned down to blindly grab the barrel of the rifle. "That's romantic," you mused, the tone of your voice containing a gentleness to it that conveyed to the girl in front of you that you appreciated her intentions. You settled the gun in your arms after a moment, and she watched you sheepishly as you pushed away from the tree and moved in close to her, creating an irrevocable display of intimacy that caused her breath to catch in her throat, while her pupils flickered down to glance at your lips. "Guess we can call this a date."

Natalie felt her stomach flutter when you shifted slightly to traverse forward. Your lips almost touched her own in the movement, but you managed to keep the moment from happening when you passed her by and continued on with the intention of finding another area to hunt. She felt warmth ease its way up her neck and onto her cheeks as she followed you soon after, and while she watched you like a hawk – flustered and shocked by your boldness – you shared the same sentiment towards yourself. Your own skin was hot, and you only hoped that it didn't visibly mark you with the emotion of embarrassment and surprise towards your own actions, which portrayed confidence you didn't even realize you had.

Though luckily, she didn't see your self-assured attitude shatter into two.

————————————————————————

You could feel the grass brush against the bare skin of your arms while you laid on the forest floor. You cradled the rifle in your palms, the barrel of the weapon settled against the moss-covered log you used as a perch, while Natalie's sitting form lingered to your left. She watched you intently as you focused on an unsuspecting gopher. The little creature chewed on a piece of brush, and just as your finger eased down onto the trigger, you heard the vibration of a sharp click emit from the gun, signifying that no bullet lied in the chamber. Immediately, your head perked up with an expression of dumbfounded confusion lining your features, and you pulled your focus away from the iron sights, as you brought your hand down to tug the lever.

You were greeted with the vacant space that usually contained some sign of ammunition. "What the fuck..." your lips parted in shock, just as you heard Natalie giggle from beside you. Her laughter caused you to shift your body and look over at her amused state, and it didn't take long before she lifted her hand up to show you the bullet that was meant to be sitting in the chamber of the rifle. "You fuckin' cheater!" you quietly exclaimed, while an open-mouthed grin formed on your cheeks. You gawked at her, a feeling of amazement swirling within your chest towards her lighthearted joke. She bit her lip to try and suppress her own amusement towards your reaction, but it was clear as day that she thought what she had done was hilarious.

"All is fair in love and war," Natalie told you, though you could only furrow your eyebrows in response to her statement, as you pushed yourself up from your lain position and sat on the back of your heels. Your eyes flickered about her face, taking in her pallid features earnestly, but your own expression made her think you were offended by her actions, especially when you didn't put in the effort to respond. It only caused her comical nature to dwindle slightly, as she rolled the bullet into her palm and closed her fingers around it, creating a fist that protected the piece of ammunition. "I had to come up with a way to get you to lose," she explained sheepishly, after a moment, "I can't let you win."

"You can't let me win?" you repeated, your tone completely lighthearted and pertaining no malice. You shook your head dismissively, still amused by the plan she had gone with in order to prevent you from having a victory. "I see how it is," you uttered, though the statement was more so directed towards yourself, as you shifted closer to her and attempted to grab her wrist that was connected to the hand that held the bullet. However, just as your fingers brushed against her skin, she pulled her arm away from you, which forced your eyes to flicker away from her fist and back up to her, meeting her gaze. "You not gonna let me have the bullet back?" you questioned her.

Natalie shook her head silently, and her quiet response forced a subtle groan from you that sounded more like a low whine. The sound automatically amused the blonde in turn, and just as she let her guard down to bellow a laugh at your feigned defeat, you shot your hands forward and grabbed her wrist with one – keeping it from retreating, as your other squeezed between her curled fingers and snatched the bullet from her grasp. "Hey!" she called, but you had already shuffled away from her and clutched the singular piece of munition to your chest, staring at her as though you were some feral squirrel who had found their prized acorn.

"Don't 'hey' me," you retorted with a giggle, as Natalie pushed herself up onto her knees to crawl towards you. Her gaze had suddenly darkened, like she was on a mission to take back what she saw as hers, which forced a nervous laugh to slip from your lips, as your grip around the bullet tightened.

"Give me the bullet," she told you.

"Hell no." You shook your head in response, and Natalie rolled her eyes at your answer, her hands shifting to rest against the ground to keep herself steady. Her palms sat on either side of your body, which had lessened the proximity between the two of you, and you only realized such when she let out a breath that gently hit against the skin of your nose. All sense of amusement vanished from you at the recollection, and she shared a similar expression of surprise when her pupils fluttered down to take in the finer details of your face. She didn't push away from you, however. And you took her lack of repression as a sign to act on the impulse you felt nagging away at you.

Before you could truly dictate whether or not it was a bad idea, you raised your hand up to gently take hold of Natalie's jaw. Your fingers lightly squeezed her face, as you pulled her down to mold your lips against her own. Your eyes closed tightly as she moaned against your mouth, and you felt a surge of anxiety suddenly flourish through your stomach, which caused you to pull back from her, acknowledging the boundary you had trespassed without her consent. "I'm sorry, Nat–" Your attempt to apologize to her was swiftly cut off, when she lifted her palm up and wrapped it around your neck to tug you back into her.

Natalie initiated the kiss that time, and you felt the nervousness the moment brought you slowly fade away. You melted into her, internally appreciating the way the heel of her palm lightly pressed against the column of your throat, as her fingers kept a light grasp of your jawline. It forced your head to nudge into the bark of the tree that you leaned up against. But you didn't mind it, as she moved to straddle you without you fully realizing it. When the weight of her body rested on your lap, you moaned into her mouth without warning and moved your hands down to knead her hips while you tugged her closer, holding them with a firmness that she seemed to appreciate when she squeezed your skin.

The both of you got lost in the moment, and only when a distant crackle of wildlife sounded off in the distance, did you and Natalie part from each other. You let out a gasp, one that conveyed you had been in need of air for a good while, and she made a similar sound as she dropped her hand from your neck and planted it against your collarbone to brace herself, all while her other mindlessly moved up to rest against the tree beside your head. Your eyes fluttered open shortly after, blissed out and baffled from what had happened, and when your gaze eventually met with her own, her lips were parted, but a giddy grin was apparent while she stared down at you.

"You're… a lot bolder than I thought."

Her statement carried a tone of endearment to it. And all you could do in response was sheepishly shrug, as if you didn't know what had come over you. Truly, you didn't. Maybe it was the wilderness that encouraged you to live without worry and the fear of being dragged down by your natural shyness. Maybe it was simply her that forced another side of you to come out. One that was carefree and willing to do whatever without the concern of getting in trouble. Whatever it was, you liked it, and it was clear that she did too. Especially when her eyes roved over your form one last time, before she eventually pulled herself away from you.

It was an action that caused butterflies to flourish throughout your stomach, while she tugged you up to your feet and pulled you along, as though she hadn't just been on top of you and stolen your breath away.

Give me your thoughts/requests! Thanks for reading! <3

[slytherinshua]

⟡　MY JEWEL 　( 휴닝카이 )

genre royalty au , forbidden romance , fluff , servant!fem!reader x prince!kai   cw not proofread   wc 787   request @jihyokat for kai + gleaming gemstones for the 3k event   note this fic being the first event one kinda broke my writers block id say??? it's been a while since i've even touched my google docs and written a sentence, but this was super fun to write and these tropes are always some of my favs to work with hehe. i hope you enjoy lexi!!   net @kstrucknet @moadiarynet

You were no princess. Growing up in poverty, you were always detached from high society and royalty. Riches, luxury, exquisite food and elegant clothing— all were foreign to you. But it changed when you were hired by the royal palace as a maid and ran into Kai almost immediately by accident. 

Being so unused to the winding hallways of the castle that seemed to never end, you quite easily got lost on your first day at the job. What was supposed to be a simple task of delivering a basket of fresh fruit to the kitchens turned into a 30 minute tour of random halls on probably the opposite side of the palace. How else would you have ended up in the prince’s quarters?

Despite your rocky start, you seemed to have extraordinary luck that day, running into the prince himself who found the whole ordeal quite amusing (and you, quite adorable). Prince Kai kindly offered to show you the way to the kitchens, and anywhere else in the palace until you memorized the routes yourself. And you, eager to not endure the same embarrassment again, took him up on it. 

Not a single thought crossed your mind on how inappropriate such a thing might be, talking and walking casually with royalty so soon. Kai didn’t seem to mind, and you didn’t begin to question it until much, much later. Six months to be exact. After that first meeting, you had gotten quite close with the young prince. It was only when you started to feel strange fluttery feelings whenever you were around him that you realized just how bad the situation was.

You were staff. Kai was legions ahead of you in status. Not even taking into consideration the opinion of the public, just by maintaining a relationship with him, you were certainly breaking basic code of conduct. There was no future with him to be seen, whether as a friend or lover. So, you decided it would be best to cut it off before it became more painful.

Unfortunately, you were already in too deep. So was Kai.

“It’s a gift,” Kai explained quietly. “For you,” he added as clarification, as if it wasn’t already obvious. It shouldn’t have been, given the circumstances. 

It was late in the night and Kai had summoned you to his chambers. Privately, of course. He knew the repercussions you might face if people found out, and he was mindful of that. You were grateful for his precautions, although in the back of your mind you were on edge by all of it. How beautiful Kai looked, moonlight shining across his face. The delicate silver necklace with a shining precious sapphire set in the middle of it resting in the palm of his hand. The way your heart was thumping in your chest, the urge to fall into his arms getting stronger by the second.

How much you loved him was dangerously growing each day. Your mind reminded you of how little hope there was to be with him, but your heart did not care. You were sane away from him, but as soon as he was in front of you, no thought or reason reached you. Your heart behaved autonomously, and Kai directed every decision it made.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, truly mesmerised at the sight of the gem. It almost glowed with its clarity, and you could see the light of the moon reflected off of its polished edges. Kai moved closer, wrapping the chain loosely around your neck. He carefully fastened it, securing the precious stone to its rightful place: decorating your neck. 

“There. Just as I thought. You look stunning, Y/n,” he said earnestly, taking a hold of your hands. The warmth of his palms made your heart jump, and his words gave you feeble hope.

“I love you.”

You had said it before, and you decided you would say it again. A million times over if you could. No matter how wrong. No matter how forbidden, or unheard of. You were uttering those words to the prince of the nation. You. No one else. And that gave you a sense of belonging that only Kai could bring out of you.

As long as he trusted your place by his side, why should you let the arbitrary rules of the world tell you otherwise? He was the only thing that mattered, and you would only take his thoughts into consideration.

For once, you fully accepted the flurry of feelings; the connection between you and Kai that was so unexpected but felt so right. Your hearts beating in sync, fully devoted to one another. 

He was your jewel, and he shined his brightest only for you. 

txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @cham3li,,

@wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,,

@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,,

@cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,,

@nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @stantxtforabetterlife,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees

[yunalinwrites]

kids on christmas eve | gojo satoru x reader

available on wattpad

cover by me

summary: you learn about what happened with geto suguru and make him talk to you about it

about reader: gender neutral, relationship to gojo is unclear but they're close, on a first name basis + implied to be romantic

warnings: sad (if i did my job right), mild cursing, spoilers for jjk 0 + gojo's past/hidden inventory/star plasma vessel arc

notes: i know this is really out of season bc christmas has long passed but its for the plot lol as u prob know dec 24th is an important date

anyways i prob could've edited more but tbh i just wanted to post it already lmao hope its not cringe cuz i didn't shower to finish it (avg jjk degenerate) also im angry this was correctly formatted in google docs but tumblr ruined it and i cant b bothered to reread it under the new formatting so srry if theres smth wrong

"Gojo-sensei, that's not fair!"

Itadori had his bottom lip stuck out, his arms crossed tightly and his feet stomping against the snow.

"Yeah, come on!" Kugisaki agreed, mitten-clad hands full of the cold ammunition. "Turn it off, will you?"

You looked over to where Satoru stood. The snowballs that floated around him made it a little hard to see, but you could still tell his face was like it always was: smiling, the only deviation from its usual state being the pink on his pale nose. The rosy shade was just like his tongue when he stuck it out. 

"Come and make me," he taunted.

"Why, you little..." Kugisaki grumbled. "Okay, Itadori, Formation B!"

"Roger!" Itadori yelled back.

The pair performed a number of flashy poses--as if they were trying to imitate something they'd seen in a cartoon--and before you knew it, they were charging at Satoru from two sides, arms fully loaded and wound back with mounds of snow. But it seemed Satoru knew it before you, because he just tsked--didn't even bother catching the snowballs, just let them fall apart against his forcefield.

"Gojo-sensei!" the two groaned in unison.

"You're no fun!" Itadori complained.

"It's not supposed to be fun," Satoru countered with a playful shrug. "Just because it's a snow day doesn't mean you can stop training."

"But... but... But what about...!" Kugisaki sputtered, a vein popping out of her forehead as she struggled to come up with an argument. You could almost see the lightbulb pop up above her head as she pounded her fist in her palm. "But what about global warming?"

"Yeah!" Itadori followed, not thinking. "What about--Wait, what?" Scratching his head, he tilted his head at Kugisaki.

"It could totally be the last day it ever snows, you know," she claimed matter-of-factly, her hands on her hips. "And I would so hate you forever."

Itadori's mouth formed a silent "Oh!" as Kugisaki elaborated. Nodding his head in accord, he added on: "Yeah, Gojo-sensei. I don't think I could respect you after that."

Satoru put on a dramatic pout at that last sentence, but he soon returned to a smile and gave in with a sigh. "Alright, just this once."

You could see the two students loudly jumping for joy from behind him as he made his way towards where you were sitting. You smiled warmly at the sight.

"They really are something," you commented.

"Tell me about it," Fushiguro grumbled, leaning boredly against the wooden armrest of the park bench. He observed quietly as his friends built a snowman in the distance until Satoru's towering shadow prompted him to look up.

"Megumi!" Satoru called, his voice high-pitched and sing-song. "Go play with the others."

The boy scowled in response. "I'm too old for that stuff."

"You think you're old?" Satoru challenged. He pointed at his hair, at the white color it's always been. "What does that make me?" He hunched over and put his hand on his lower spine, feigning back pain. "C'mon, listen to your teacher. Let me sit next to Y/N."

Fushiguro squinted at him for a moment before finally getting up."Gross."

You chuckled, watching the boy begrudgingly drag his feet through the snow towards his classmates, but your laughter hitched as you felt something push against you. Turning to your right, you saw his lanky teacher. At first the sensation didn’t make sense, considering that there was a considerable amount of distance between the two of you, but you soon recalled his defense measures and the complaints they had garnered. 

Not noticing your discomfort, he stared up at the cloudy sky for a moment before turning to you. 

"Are you cold?" he asked.

You shook your head. "I should be asking you," you replied, referencing his lack of winter wear. "Why didn't you wear a coat?"

"Well, it would ruin my outfit, of course," he stated perkily. He wore a confident smirk on his face, but looking closer you could tell he was shivering beneath the thin fabric of his uniform.

Taking a deep breath in disapproval, you reached for your scarf. "Here," you offered, unraveling the knot you’d made earlier. But when you reached to wrap it around his neck, you felt the resistance of his invisible force.

His smile eased. "It's okay," he obliged, sniffling. "Thank you, though."

You hesitated before tying your scarf back around yourself, the garment's chunky knit giving it enough volume to nearly cover your mouth and even your ears, but you could still hear his teeth chatter. You searched your surroundings, looking past the dead snow-adorned trees and following the wet pavement until you spotted something in the distance: a cafe, just down the street from where you were.

"I'll get you some hot chocolate," you decided, standing up and brushing the snowflakes off your coat.

"You don't--"

"Shh!" You pointed your finger threateningly at him before turning around to begin your walk. "Somehow you've bent logic so far that you'll end up sick if you don't drink it. So just take this as an excuse to have more sweets, alright?"

You were just about to make your first step away from the bench, but then you felt a firm grip wrap around your arm. "Wait, Y/N--"

Before he could finish his protest, he was cut off by a particularly firmly packed snowball striking him right in the middle of his face, highlighting his nose with the sparkling white powder and dislodging his blindfold. With his cerulean eyes now exposed, he turned his head and saw the three of them: Itadori pointing and cackling on the left, Kugisaki doing the same keeled over in the middle, and even Fushiguro, on the right, had the ends of his mouth perked up as he shook his head hopelessly.

You saw Satoru grin at the picture, but it was contradictory to what you were feeling. He had let go of your arm, but not by relaxing his hand--you felt him, as if brick by brick, build that invisible wall right back up between you, seemingly stronger than ever. You could still feel it, even as he walked away towards the trio, tying his blindfold back on. Sighing, you sat back down and watched him make snow angels with the others, his head blending right in with the scene as he drowned himself in the blinding whiteness. With his blindfold now fully on, you could only imagine what it was like when he smiled with his eyes.

***

"I can't feel my toes."

Twirling her brown hair between her fingers, Shoko spun around in her chair to face the doorway.

She darted her eyes between you and Satoru for a second before a calm, amused expression painted her face. Despite knowing it was his voice she heard--though it was more nasal than usual--she directed her question at you: "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I told him to wear thicker socks!" you exclaimed, your arms crossed in frustration. "But look! Show her."

Rolling his eyes behind his blindfold, Satoru pulled the fabric on his thighs, lifting the hems of his pants so that they revealed his ankles. They were barely covered by the cheap red and green striped polyester; it was the kind of thing you'd spot on sale in packs at the checkouts during Christmas season.

“So I forgot… Big deal!”

“I could fill a library with all the things you forgot,’” you complained. “I mean, what are you, a fish?”

Unfazed, Shoko chuckled. "You're telling me the strongest--the one powerful enough to rival the King of Curses--was defeated by a case of frostbite?"

The both of you responded simultaneously: "Exactly." "No!"

"I was not defeated," he insisted, earning a glare from you. "Barely a scratch. She's just being dramatic."

"I am not--"

"Is there a reason you can't heal yourself?" Shoko interrupted, now turned to Satoru.

He pointed his thumb in your direction accusingly. "She wanted to come here, not me."

"Wait," you interjected. "You can heal yourself?”

“Of course, duh.”

“Since when?"

"High school," he answered dismissively, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "See, look!"

He pointed down to his shoes--through the leather of his dress boots, you could see the movement of his wriggling toes. 

You held your hands up to hide his feet from your sight. “Ew, stop that--" you grimaced. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged, smirking smugly. "My talent should go without saying."

You sighed. “Your talent to bewilder me?”

"You know it,” he asserted proudly. "But anyways–Can I go now?"

Before you could even answer, you could sense him already moving in your peripheral vision.

"Satoru, wait--"

"If you don't believe I'm fine, I'll show you my toes," he threatened, halfway out the door.

"Satoru--!"

"Go on, catch me if you can!"

You listened, trying to grab onto him but, once again, his Infinity blocked you, making you stumble into Shoko's arms as it pushed you backwards. By the time you regained your balance and rushed into the hallway, his long strides and newly healed feet had already carried him beyond your sight.

You sighed and re-entered the room, brushing yourself off. "Do you have anything for a cold?" you asked.

"I should," Shoko replied, opening up one of her medicine cabinets. "Why, are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, no, it's for him," you explained. "He's had a runny nose all week. I told him not to go out in the snow with the kids, but... You know how he is."

She hummed in acknowledgement with an understated smile, picking out a bottle of Acetaminophen capsules. Making her way over to you, she held up the container.

"I have these," she told you, but she didn't hand them to you; she just kept holding it up as she continued, "but, in my professional opinion, I don't think he has a cold."

"What do you mean?" you asked, your brow raised.

"Y/N, do you know what tomorrow is?"

"It's... the 24th."

"Mhm."

"So... Christmas Eve?"

She looked down at the floor, placing the bottle on a nearby counter and leaning back against it, getting comfortable. She stayed quiet for a moment, biting her lip in deep thought as she continued to stare at the floor with her arms crossed. But then, finally, she sighed, and reached into her coat pocket for a cigarette.

"Would you like one?" she offered, flicking the lighter at the end of the stick

"Um... No thank you..."

"Have a seat." She gestured to the metal seat against the wall.

Still thoroughly confused, you did as you were told. You felt as if your parents were about to have a stern "talk" with you--as if you had broken a vase or--arguably worse--it was time for you to understand the birds and the bees. That thought, along with the cold steel beneath you, sent chills up your body.

In an attempt to quell your anxiety, you beat her to the punch and spoke up: "You went to high school together, didn't you?"

She blew out a lengthy tangle of smoke strings. "That's right," she answered.

You shifted in your seat. "Has he always been... like this?"

"No,” she chuckled, bringing the cigarette back to her lips. "He used to wear glasses."

Your eyebrows shot up as you leaned forward in shock. "Seriously?"

She reached into her coat pocket again, this time producing a small print of a photo. 

You took the glossy sheet from her hands and studied it, your mouth agape. Sure enough, there he was, on Shoko's right, smiling widely with his hair down and a pair of round sunglasses, both of them holding up peace signs. But, while Shoko's arm was clearly holding up the camera for the selfie, one of Satoru’s arms appeared to be wrapped around the shoulders of a black-haired man you didn't recognize.

Your brows furrowed at the sight. "Who's the one on the left?"

The scent of the nicotine got stronger as she took her time to ponder her answer, staring blankly into the back of the photo beneath your thumbs.

"That's Geto Suguru,” she finally told you.

You scanned his portrait meticulously. The man wore a grumpy expression with dark bags under his eyes and, contrary to the cheerful pose of the other two, he was flipping off the camera.

“Was he an upperclassman?” you asked.

She shook her head. “He was our classmate.” She gestured towards the photo with her cigarette. “We were all second-years there.”

“No way…” Holding the photo closer, you could have sworn you saw the outline of ear gauges behind Shoko’s head. “He looks so much older.”

You returned the photo to her and she slipped it back in her pocket, not taking even a glance at it as she did. She just spoke plainly: “He’s Satoru’s best friend.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Really? I wonder why I haven’t heard of him, then."

She took another puff, turning her face away from you as she let it out. “Tomorrow is his death anniversary.”

Your eyes widened before falling to the floor. “Oh… I see…”

You fell into a solemn trance, not knowing what you should or shouldn’t say and, consequently, opting to stay quiet out of respect. But, suddenly, you were interrupted by the sound of light laughter. 

“Even if he were still with us, I doubt you would’ve been able to tell. They bickered so much you’d think they hated each other.”

She walked around to the other side of the counter, leaning forward on it as she rested her hand on her palm.

“Who could get to class faster… Who could shoot more hoops in a minute… Who could make a bigger crater in the courtyard…”

You tried to imagine the pair wreaking havoc on an older version of the Jujutsu Tech Campus, but while it was easy to fit Satoru’s cheeky grin into all of these scenarios, it was hard to see such a mature-looking person as Geto doing these childish things.

“Ah, but you know, Y/N,” she started, looking up at you with a smile. “I think you would have been able to tell that Suguru was actually younger.”

“What?” you gasped, surprised at both the fact that he was younger and that Shoko thought that would be clear to you. “There’s no way…”

“Well, for starters, Suguru is shorter, if you put them side-by-side,” she argued. “And… Hm…”

She stopped to contemplate how to put together her next sentence–or if she should even do so at all. But in the end, she brought her cigarette back to her lips and exhaled: “I think you would have agreed with me that he’s the more immature one.”

Your brows furrowed as you scoffed in disbelief. “That's impossible… Satoru could be ten-feet tall and not a single thing on this planet could make him seem more mature than another person.”

She chuckled, though you could sense a sadness behind the sound, and you realized that your comment might’ve come off as insensitive. Clearing your throat, awkwardly, you granted her the floor: “What makes you say that?”

She took another inhale and sighed out a long cloud. Looking out the window of her office, she saw the faint glow of the multicolored lights that decorated it on the outside. She took in the sight for a quiet moment before sinking into her swivel chair, puffing once more.

“I still don’t know much about his childhood,” she began. “I never asked, and I never got to meet his parents. But I can tell you for certain that Suguru was the sort of kid who threw a tantrum when he didn’t get what he wanted for Christmas.

“I’m sure he had wishlists a mile long, but he wouldn’t be the kind to write even a single letter about it to Santa. Of course, that’d make it difficult for his family, and maybe they could've tried harder to figure it out–but he just wouldn't understand why what he wanted wasn't obvious to everyone.

“I can imagine one day someone told him the truth about Santa, and he was probably absolutely devastated. But, to him, it wouldn't be about the presents. It would be about the people around him: his mom, his dad, his teachers, his neighbors, everyone–the people who had been deceiving him his whole life.

“I don't think he ever forgave anyone for that, all the way up until he found himself as a seventeen-year-old at Jujutsu High.”

The air became thick–suffocatingly so–and your spine no longer fit right against the back of the bench.

“What exactly… did he do?” 

She rolled her chair towards her desk and put out her cigarette, pushing and twisting it into the ashtray by her desk calendar.

“In a single night, he killed one hundred and twelve civilians–non-sorcerers–including his parents. He wanted to create a world where only sorcerers exist.”

“O-oh my God…” Your hand rose up to cover your gaping mouth. “Wh.. Why?!”

“By killing non-sorcerers, you stop curses from the source.”

“But you can't just–” You cut yourself off, thousands of words rushing and racing to your mouth. “Didn't anyone try to stop him?”

“Maybe Satoru could've. If Suguru decided to tell him, that is.”

Your face was wound up in concern. “That's horrible…”

“I know, right?” she casually agreed.  “To want to be understood, but never willing to understand… Isn't it childish?” She even laughed. “Though, I suppose he was just a kid.”

“Just a kid?!” You stuck your head out in disbelief. “No, no… Satoru is childish. But that–that’s… inhumane!

You pointed to the door. “Satoru was a kid.”

You pointed to her. “You were a kid.”

Lowering your hand, you scrunched the hem of your shirt. “I might not have known you then, but I know you never would have done that.”

“To be fair, I'm not the strongest,” she defended plainly. “I'm just a doctor.”

The crease between your eyebrows deepened as you threw your arms up. “Okay–then Satoru! Satoru would never do something like that! And he… he's still a kid!”

“Satoru killed his best friend–his one and only.” She clasped her hands together on her desk. “A kid wouldn't do that, would they?”

You froze at the edge of your seat, blinking rapidly as you pieced together the puzzle.

“He… killed…?” you trailed off.

Shoko stared grimly at her hands as she tightened her grip on herself. “A kid wouldn’t have understood.”

You bore your eyes into her, waiting, begging for her to continue, to elaborate, to make it make sense, but she just stayed quiet, kept to herself.

You directed your eyes to the freshly polished floor tiles. As you stared into the blurry reflection of yourself, you tried imagining it again: Satoru, tall and white haired, and this kid grumpy little kid he called Suguru, wreaking havoc on the old campus of Jujutsu High: walking to class together, dribbling a basketball between each other, meeting up in the courtyard with one another.

 “That…” you began hesitantly. “That still doesn't excuse what happened.”

Shoko looked up at you, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and though she wasn’t as contented as she had been before your conversation, her expression was no longer grave; she seemed satisfied. Slowly, she put her palms on her desk and pushed herself up from her seat.

“To answer your question from earlier–properly,” she started, making her way over to you. “I think that Satoru has always been that way–the way Gojo Satoru has to be.”

“But if there were ever a time that he weren’t,” she interjected, sliding her hand into her coat pocket.

“It would have been thanks to him.”

***

Your footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, stopping every once in a while to slide open one of the stiff doors only to struggle to shut it a moment later. You increased the reach of your steps, and the thump of your shoes against the wood planks competed with the hooting owl perched on the snow covered roof.

Suddenly, you heard a new noise: a honking, like that of a goose, coming from the end of the hall and slightly to the left. Now picking up to a jog, you made a beeline for the door and jerked it open.

“Well, if it isn’t my long-awaited Christmas present!” he exclaimed. “Looks like Santa’s early this year.”

He rested against the corner of one of the student’s desks, already facing you with his hands in his pocket. From behind him, you could just barely see the white crumpled-up balls of tissue that scattered the surface.

“I guess some people do gifts on Christmas Eve though, right?” he considered, putting a finger to his chin. “But, ah… choosing gifts is so hard. I need all the time I can get.”

He didn’t acknowledge your entrance at all; his Six Eyes had seen it coming miles away, allowing him enough time to get into position to pick up wherever you’d last left off. You didn’t acknowledge him either, keeping a stone face as you stepped into the room.

“What’s with the face, hm? Did you not like your presents?”

“Satoru,” you said sternly.

“Did you ask Santa for anything this year?” he went on, continuing to pay you no mind.

You sighed. You couldn’t help but let the ends of your lips pick up, but you kept your eyes down at the dirtied pattern of the floor.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” you admit.

“What? Why not?” he questioned astonishedly, forming a pout. “Does that mean you didn’t get me a present?”

You shook your head lightly, making your way over to him. “I’ve always thought it was sort of weird. To celebrate the birth of a martyr.”

“Hm,” he sounded. “Well that’s no fun.”

Planting his hands on the surface, he hoisted himself up onto his desk. “Santa probably wouldn’t give anything other than coal to a non-believer,” he noted. “But since I’m so nice, I’ll get you something. Just tell me–what is it that you want for Christmas?”

His smile stayed in place as you darted your pupils around his visage, your own face beginning to fall. You took slow steps towards the desk next to him, getting as close as you could before you felt his Infinity push back

“Satoru, can you do me a favor?” you requested gently.

“Depends on what the favor is,” he chirped back.

Reaching your hand out, you traced your forefinger on the edge of the invisible barrier before applying pressure into it, testing the shield’s strength. You pushed with all your might, but all it did was whiten your finger tip and make your knuckles concave.

You retracted, looking back into his eyes. “Can you take it down?”

You could see the movement of his eyebrows raising beneath his blindfold. “You tryna kill me?”

Again, you shook your head, still solemn. 

He crossed his arms and squinted at you, biting his cheek. Leaning back, he put his weight onto his hands behind him, loosely grabbing the edge of his desk, his expression becoming relaxed. “Alright. Here you go.”

You took another small step into the newfound space until you were only inches apart. Slowly, you extended both your hands towards his face, but then suddenly reeled them back into a hesitant fist in disbelief, the lack of resistance uncomfortably foreign.

You inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled the air shakily through your mouth, trying hard to slow the rapid beating in your chest. Ignoring the smirk on his face, you tried to reach out to him, one final time.

Letting your arms wrap around his head, your hands searched his silky hair for the knot that held up his eye covering. When you finally felt the bump, you took your time digging your nails into where the fabric held onto itself, carefully pulling apart its loops.

As the blindfold fell to his neckline, his signature grin stayed plastered on his face, but just about every other feature of his seemed to change completely when the white wisps came down to frame them. His azure eyes, for example, glimmered under the faint moonlight coming through the window, but not in the way that they usually did. They were shining like lacquer, but it was as if, from underneath that, their batteries had been taken out. In their dullness, you could see the reflection of the long white lashes resting on the eyelids above, forming sharp, unnatural shapes as they clumped together unevenly. Pink waterlines painted the bottom of his irises, and a faint red was seemingly airbrushed around the surrounding puffy skin.

You trailed your hands down the back of his head until they cupped his jawline, holding his face as you explored its entirety. Moving from his eyes to his flushed, leaking nose, his smirk grew when your gaze landed on his lips.

“Are you sure you want to use your gift on this?” he teased. “Kind of a waste, in my opinion–you could’ve just found a mistletoe.”

“Satoru.”

“Hmm?”

“I want you to stop smiling.”

For a moment, he listened to you: his mouth fell open, but then it fell back into its previous position as he flashed his teeth at you. “My bad. I didn’t mean to blind you.”

“Please?”

He kept still while your thumb gently stroked his powder-smooth cheek. He jolted slightly as his lungs forced out a nervous chuckle, but he trailed off as your touch continued on him. Realizing your relentlessness, he sucked in his lips and clamped them together with his teeth as if he was trying to stop any further laughter.

He stayed like this for a moment, waiting for you to let go, but your tender movements showed no signs of stopping–you only slowed down when your eyes flitted up to meet his. He tried his best to return your stare, but eventually, he accepted defeat in the contest. And so, little by little, he let his lips roll out and the muscles to dispose into a resting state.

His voice became low, a near whisper. “Is… everything okay?”

Finally removing your hands from him, you nodded. Returning them to yourself, you glided one into the back pocket of your pants.

Taking a step back, you held up the sheet of glossy photo paper side-by-side with his face. You could name a number of differences: the neckline of the teacher’s uniform was looser and higher, his bangs now were longer and a bit thicker, and, of course, he wasn’t wearing glasses, and he wasn’t smiling. But, somehow, now more than ever, you could see the resemblance.

“What have you got there?”

Moving towards him again, you handed him the photo. It felt strange, witnessing the rare sight of his pupils’ every rapid move. And in addition to that, ever so slightly, you could see his swollen under eyes rise as the softest of smiles pushed up his cheeks. It was nothing like the sickeningly-sweet beamings you were used to seeing from him, though; it was subdued, raw like the cacao in dark chocolate, undiluted by sugar or milk.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, incredulous.

“Like you said, Santa came early,” you joked mildly.

“No, really,” he persisted, his tone reaching a bass you’d never heard from him before. “Where did you get this?”

You sat yourself on the desk next to him. “Shoko,” you admitted.

“What did she tell you?”

Your shrug was subtle.  “As much as she could.”

He continued to scrutinize the photo in his hands, his brows drawing together.

“Satoru,” you proceeded, hushed. “If it’s okay… I’d like it if you told me about it.”

He lowered the photo so that it no longer obstructed his view of you, but he didn’t take advantage of the space he gave himself; he kept staring at the photo as he spoke: “There’s not much to tell about. I was the strongest then and I’m the strongest now.”

You rested your hands on your lap and exhaled deeply. “That’s not what I mean,” you contested. 

It was as if he couldn’t hear you, continuing to stare vapidly into the photo as if somehow your sentence didn’t make it to his ears. But that was impossible; you’d said what you said, and the room was dead silent.

“I… I want you to tell me about him,” you clarified.

He shifted in his seat, finally looking away from the photo and up at you. “You mean… Geto Suguru?” he asked, as if there were any other ‘him’ in that photo. 

“Well… he’s the worst of all curse users,” he offered. He then shoved the photo back in your direction, a sudden grin straining itself on his face. “But it’s okay. He’s gone now.”

Ignoring his move, you asked, “Is it really okay?”

“I made sure of it,” he affirmed, impatiently nudging the paper at you.

He resumed his usual playful lilt. “Are you doubting me?” he tested.

“I don’t doubt you for a second–not in that sense. You’ve always been strong,” you reassured him. “But that’s exactly why I doubt you know how to be weak.”

He scoffed. “You think Gojo Satoru would know how to be weak?”

“No, I don’t. That’s my whole point,” you upheld firmly.

He folded his arms across his chest, his mocking tone sharpening: “Why would anyone want to know how to be weak?”

“Because even Gojo Satoru needs to realize he can’t just smile and laugh all the time,” you challenged, feeling heat rise up your neck.

His eyes darkened, seemingly into a navy blue, and his inflection further condescended: “There are a lot of things you don’t understand.”

“Satoru, how on earth am I supposed to understand?!” 

As your tone cut through, just as abruptly you pushed the desk behind you and dropped heavily to your feet.

“You’re right, I don't understand you,” you confessed frustratedly, pointing to yourself. “I don’t understand you at all. Because how could I possibly understand you? I can’t see your eyes, I can’t even get near you, and I’ve never seen you not smile.”

Your voice made gaps as your vocal cords threatened sobs. “And sure, I call you by your first name, and I laugh and I smile at all your dumb jokes and… and the idiotic games you play…

“But it’s–it’s… scary, Satoru. Creepy, even. How you know just about everything there is to know about me and yet… It's like I don’t even know who you are. You’re just a toy in the corner, watching everyone come in and out of the room, but I can never make you say or be or feel anything.”

“Feelings are what made him into who he was,” he stated coldly, his eyes fixed on the grimy floor. “It’s important for sorcerers to have a hold on their emotions.”

“So you know what happens, then,” you argued firmly, your shoes coming into his view as you stepped closer. “You know what it’s like to be shut out from them.”

You pushed his chin up, forcing him to witness the way you were holding on desperately to the tears that bordered your lower waterline.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Do you always get Sprite?” he’d asked, looking down as his friend retrieved his drink from the bottom of the machine.

“I mean… yeah, I guess,” Suguru replied plainly. “Why?”

A pit formed in his stomach as he heard the crack of the can opening.

“Shit. I’ve been getting you Coke this whole time,” he’d mumbled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Suguru shrugged, beginning to head in the direction of the classroom. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Dude, are you good?”

Suguru jolted awake, sitting up from the plush back of the couch and nearly spilling the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

“Do you wanna watch something else?” he’d suggested, but Suguru just shook his head.

“I thought you liked Digimon,” Suguru objected.

“Well yeah, but…”

The only lighting came from the flashing screen, but it was enough for him to see his friend yawn, making his eyes water, dark bags underneath them.

“You can turn it up if you want,” was all Suguru had to say, but even after doing what Suguru said, he couldn’t focus on his favorite TV show.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything,” he started, reaching into his bag. “But here.”

“What’s this?” Suguru questioned.

“Your Christmas present, duh.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Suguru pointed out. “And I told you–”

“I know! But just open it.”

He watched as Suguru lifted the lid of the small gray box, revealing a small pair of white gauges.

“I didn’t really know what size to get… But I think they’d look cool on you.”

“Thanks, Satoru.”

He lit up, thinking that he’d finally done something right by his friend, but the way that Suguru looked up at him, the way Suguru smiled insincerely, told him he should’ve waited for Christmas Day.

The tears were warm as they rolled down his face, past his trembling lip and blooming into the blindfold that rested loosely around his neck.

“I just don't understand why he didn’t talk to me.”

You pulled him into a hug, carding your fingers in his hair as you rested his head on your shoulder.

“He thought I hated him,” he told you shakily, finding himself clutching onto your shirt. “I didn’t see him for ten years and… and that whole time he thought I hated him.”

He inhaled a sharp sniffle. “I… I don’t hate him,” he whimpered, his pitch jumping and his body beginning to tremble. “I don’t hate him, Y/N, I don’t, I don’t, I never, ever did.”

“I know,” you whispered, stroking his hair, holding him tighter as he jerked with sobs.

He placed his head on your shoulder, staring at the blindfold that had unraveled itself and fallen between you. “I hate myself.”

You pulled back, cupping his jawline and holding it in front of you.

“Don’t say that…”

“But he was my best friend, Y/N,” he insisted, gripping desperately onto your shoulders. “I saw him every single day… every single day, all of that was running through his head and I… I didn’t even know… I just watched and… and I made him think I hated him. I was supposed to be his best friend.”

“You did everything you could, Satoru.”

“It was all my fault.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why did it happen?” he whined. “It had to have been for a reason–It can't just hurt and be for no reason. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s not,” you told him, shaking your head gently and looking deeply into his eyes. “It’s not fair at all.”

Indicating the breaking of a dam, a deafening, siren-like wail pierced the air. His face was red and scrunched up, his nose was dripping with snot, and his hands were coming up to swipe desperately at the tears on his cheeks.

You pulled him close to you again as he kept hiccuping and sniffling into the crook of your neck. His loud weeping wet your shirt with both the fluids from his eyes and nose, but you didn’t care; you just rubbed his back, caressing him tenderly.

His voice was suddenly clearer as he took deep breaths to try and recuperate himself: “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Why are you sorry?” you asked, stiffening your hold on him.

“I just… I don’t know. I hate crying. I’m not a kid anymore, you know?” he tried laughing.

“Satoru,” you whispered delicately, turning your head so your words rested right by his ear. “You were never a kid.”

Gently, you pressed his head into you, stopping him from moving his lips in any way. “I want you to be one right now.”

You let him stay in your arms for a while until his tears subsided and his breathing steadied. You had moved to the floor at some point, allowing him to comfortably lean on you as you embraced him, his previous quivering replaced now by the calm rhythm of his rising and falling figure.

He hadn’t talked in a while, so you assumed he’d fallen asleep, but then, among his mellow breathing, a mumble came up right by your ear:

“Thank you,” he’d said.

Hugging him tighter, you patted him on the back softly. “Of course.”

As one hand traveled to intertwine its fingers in his hair, you reached for your phone with your other one.

You pressed the power button on its side, and flinched backward, squinting at the brightness your phone screen emitted. Despite your sudden movement, Satoru didn’t show any sort of reaction; he’d fallen asleep, for sure now.

You continued to comb through his white locks, a little more consciously now, as you made note of the time and date your phone’s clock displayed, changing right before your eyes:

December 25th, 00:00

You smiled, dragging your coat up to cover the both of you as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Satoru.”

***

might do a toji x megumi's teacher reader if u wanna follow

[mochiyukiii]

— I'm gonna be over at @put-ycur-hands-up well, quietly anyways because I'm under severe weather warning and the lights already went out once so not really able to do much by posting BUT i still have a goofy notes app to make drafts because I acknowledge that Mic might remain a side blog ( major yapping in coming btw, 2 years worth of development to spew ) but you can still send in asks and stuff for him here since this blog is the most active out all of my others but I'll replying to RP threads there and storing his stuff there too! I intend on giving the blog an overhaul ( yes im funny ) with :

• adding more verses + lore ; will be making a verse specifically influenced by his former music career + delinquent past and elaborating more on his career in music in general not just as some "announcer" as Jirou puts it.

• getting rid of his helluva verse since there's no interest in it and I'd rather not keep something that isn't gonna get used and replace it with a modern verse.

• holding a poll for a few supporting side characters that can be interacted with ( family members and etc ) bc i did like the RPG thing i had going on a previous blog with events and drabbles everywhere and getting people involved was fun and helped people break the ice + made artwork for certain situations.

• transfer knowledge from the google doc into a post because I'm aware that people just don't mess with google docs anymore and it's ouchies to do them just to be ignored in some cases but at least with a post there's really no excuse because my muses are canon divergent and the information i give on them is needed to know in order to decide if interaction is right or not / to help build up communication.

I just got my steam back to even write Mic because i've been slightly encouraged by a moot and the character playlist i made for him ( i need to make one for shiggy but whtr ) to get into the mood → 🎶

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @maryofdoom! They have forty-four Stranger Things and forty-three Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!!

@mojowitchcraft recommends the following works by ArgentumCivitas:

Tessellation

Every Time: A Steddie Drabble Collection

Corroded Coffin - Live On Tour - One Night Only

He Carries Me Quietly

Higher Education

Mary is such a talented writer, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read by her. She’s an incredible story teller and very generous with brainstorming offering advice. - @mojowitchcraft

Below the cut, @maryofdoom answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

To quote Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes, “I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul.” But for real, though, it's because my bestie and writing partner called me up on Discord one night and said, “Mary, you need to watch the first episode of Season 4 of Stranger Things. Right now. I mean it. I think the show is in love with Eddie.” (…Some, shall we say, substances may have been involved.) However, I stick with it because I love both the boys as characters. I think they're interesting. They have a lot of interesting aspects about them to explore, both singly and together, and I think we're all enjoying that.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Mutual pining! Good God, give me so much pining that I think I’m in the forest. Give me so much pining that I need to use an oil-based paint on them. Give me so much pining that I’ll saw those two boys into planks and repanel my house. 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

By far, it's when one of them has a crush on the other and is pissed off about it. There’s so much potential for sparky, interesting dialogue with other characters (and with each other) when the boys find themselves in that situation. And then it leads to interesting moments when they finally turn the corner and realize they’re not actually mad at the other one, they’re in love. 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so, so many that I love. But instead of giving you one of the big ones, let me share this gem: Love My Way, by dreamspaces. It’s very short, at only 1,346 words, but sometimes a bite is as good as a meal. 

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

It might be interesting to do something with “and they were roommates.” I haven’t truly messed around in that space, yet. I also haven’t done a proper enemies-to-lovers, either, mostly because I can’t stand to set up a proper enemy relationship at the beginning…but I am chewing on an idea at the moment that might necessitate that sort of opening relationship between them.

What is your writing process like?

 It tends to follow a very specific order of operations:

Get an idea from somewhere. Possible avenues for ideas include conversations with friends, news stories overheard from NPR, something that hits while I’m listening to music, posts on Reddit, anything that turns up from general blorbo rotation, the works.

Write down the idea in my notes app of choice (I use Evernote)

Begin adding more thoughts and concepts to the idea (sometimes even snips of dialogue, if they hit interesting)

Once the idea has reached a critical enough mass, transfer it to Google Docs and turn it into a draft (if it’s a one-shot idea) or an outline (if it’s a longfic idea)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: begin writing the draft

FOR A LONGFIC: begin writing the outline, according to the outlining method detailed in Tom Lennon and Ben Garant’s Writing Movies for Fun and Profit (this book is half how to make it as a screenwriter in Hollywood and half solid craft advice on how to write a screenplay, and though I don’t want to write screenplays and though I was very skeptical until I tried it out, this is the only method that has worked to get me to finish any actual novel-length works)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: when the draft is done, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, heavily, to make it better

FOR A LONGFIC: once the outline’s done, actually write the thing 

FOR A LONGFIC: once the thing’s written, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, basically rewriting it completely

FOR A LONGFIC: do the same thing again, and then again, pausing in between each iteration for as long as I can

FOR BOTH A ONE-SHOT AND A LONGFIC: once it’s to the point where I don’t hate it, get ahold of my bestie and writing partner and have her read it and crit it and tear it apart

(cry a little because her crit is probably right)

Implement the good changes and ignore the bad ones - sometimes we have a (good-natured) fight about which ones are which

Send it to my other writing friends for their thoughts and comments and incorporate those, in a similar fashion

Revise, again

Once it’s as done as it’s going to be, make a posting schedule (if it’s a longfic)

Get it out there, according to the posting schedule

Begin working on the next thing

Do you have any writing quirks?

I mean, I can sit here and say “Oh no, I definitely don’t,” but I’m sure that I do. I am sure I have a distinctive writing style, just as everyone else does, but I would have to defer to anyone who’s read multiple works I’ve written to pull out any specific “quirks.”I will note that I really try hard to get the characters’ voices down, in their dialogue. I don’t know that I always succeed, but I try.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, a schedule, ABSOLUTELY. More power to those of you who post when you’re done writing, but I am the kind of person who needs to have everything DONE and ready to go before I put even a HINT of it up online. You can see this from my writing process. It doesn’t lend itself nicely to just throwing stuff out there as a work in progress. 

Which fic are you most proud of?

Oooh, good question. I would have to say it’s a tie between the next two fics on this list. Tessellation, because I worked really hard on it (and because I figured out work skins), and He Carries Me Quietly, because I think it’s beautiful. The way it ends still gets me, even now. Not just because of the action that happens, but because of the words that I chose. I read them and I’m like, “...I wrote that? Damn, girl.”

How did you get the idea for Tessellation?

I mention it a little in its ending note, but I got the idea for Tessellation from a couple of places, one of which was the Steddie fandom itself. I love the idea of every single one of these 25,000+ stories about Steve and Eddie all being true all at once. Even the story of Stranger Things itself, as we see it on our TV screens, is just one possible version of the story that’s happening somewhere. (I truly believe that. I didn’t become an extremely lapsed Catholic for nothing. HECK THE RULES.)

When writing Tessellation, what was something you didn’t expect?

It was surprisingly easy to make connections between the six stories. It wasn’t like I was hunting for places to jam them in—they ended up falling into place very naturally. And I think my favorite one of these is when Steve, in the space story, is describing the spaceship that he pilots as “Rusalka class, she’s a good swimmer,” to Eddie, who presumably understands what this means in the context of the sci-fi world in which they live. 

What inspired He Carries Me Quietly?

It started as something else entirely—a whole established-relationship fic with the kids coming over to Steve and Eddie’s (either house or apartment) to play D&D, with an arc about a blind Max being included as kind of an oracle or super-NPC through Eddie passing her index cards with Braille on them, so she could be part of the game when and if she wanted to be. The whole thing was supposed to be told in flashbacks. I had a whole scene where Steve was figuring out how to bake cookies for everyone with whatever meager ingredients he had on hand. …Then it took a hard left into religious trauma, through some meandering means.  I guess it would be reasonable to say the inspiration, at that point, was seeing a tweet on then-Twitter with some speculation about how Eddie had come to live with Wayne. If it was the common (and unfortunate) queer-kid arc of being disowned by one’s parents. And then I thought, “Let’s go ahead and put Steve through that too, but let’s do it several years after it happens to Eddie, so that Steve has someone to guide him through the whole process.”

What was your favorite part to write from He Carries Me Quietly?

I think it was probably the opening, because of the rhythm of the sentences and how the sounds fit together with one another. I mean, if you choose to check it out, try reading the first few paragraphs out loud. It’s kind of what I think of when people talk about how writing has a cadence, or a musicality to it.  That, and the ending. The ending, starting with, “There’s one more thing that Steve wants to know,” was one of those things that just fell perfectly into place. I can see it so clearly in my mind: the two of them having a conversation, late at night in bed together, after a traumatic day. 

How do/did you feel writing Higher Education?

I love this goofy little story! It was part of a Discord server gift exchange in 2022 and my recipient said “College AUs are my jam,” so this is where my mind went. I wanted to consider a world where Eddie was the frat boy, instead of Steve. But if that were the case, the fraternity would have to be a pretty non-traditional one, wouldn’t it? The fictional Lambda House is based heavily on the fraternity house where I used to hang out in college. (It was at an engineering school and was populated entirely by nerds.)

What was the most difficult part of writing Higher Education?

The actual writing itself, honestly. Winter 2022 was a really difficult time for me, personally, and though I signed up for the fic exchange with all optimism and good wishes, it was a struggle to get everything done in time. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

One that really stands out to me is from Wrong Number, which was a oneshot I wrote based on a short conversation with some Discord friends. Picture it: Eddie and Jonathan and Argyle are all hanging out in the basement, and they’re all extremely high. Argyle, in his own way, can sense that something is wrong with Eddie. In order to get him to confess to whatever’s on his mind, they reference the pact they made that “anything said in the basement stays in the basement. It’s the law of the basement.” That just hits me as something so quintessentially Argyle. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh my, yes! I have two longfics in the pipeline that I hope to be sharing with everyone soon (or, well, as soon as I can get them through my Process). The Music of the Spheres is a Regency AU with a smoldering slow burn and an eventual happily-ever-after, while Home for the Holidays is a genre mashup: Steve’s in a Hallmark Christmas romance and Eddie’s in a psychological thriller. I am also rotating a couple more ideas in my brain that could potentially be longer works as well, but we’ll see how those go.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think the esteemed and prolific two-time-Hugo-Award-nominee Dr. Chuck Tingle puts it very nicely when he says: “CREATE. BUILD. EXPRESS. CONQUER THE LYING VOICE THAT SAYS YOUR TECHNICAL PERFECTION IS BETTER THAN TRUTH OF THE MOMENT. FILL THE VOID WITH ART and do not fear because weve got your back buckaroo. we are ALL creators in our own way so LETS HECKIN CREATE.” Let’s heckin’ create, buckaroos. I’ll see you out there in the word mines.

Thank you to our author, @maryofdoom, and our nominator, @mojowitchcraft! See more of @maryofdoom's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[fandomficsnstuff]

Redemption For All - 7

(Warnings: none except some mentions of torture I think)

Notes: I do NOT speak spanish but I think it is a very beautiful language and sadly all I can say in spanish is ‘I can’t speak spanish’, so I used google translate, sorry. Some words are in Italic, which is the translated words, and others are just straight up spanish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leah was writing in a small journal that Arthur had gotten her when her name was called, her eyes widening at a man who appeared to have been in one hell of a bar fight, covered in bruises and cuts and she rushed over. “Doc, this is Josiah Trelawny. Josiah, this here’s Doctor Leah Riverra, she’s a real good doctor, best in all the country” Arthur introduced with the added compliment and flair and Leah helped him to a seat, smiling at him “I don’t know about the whole country but I’ve certainly seen my fair share of things. Hello Mr. Trelawny. What’s bothering you today?” she asked jokingly, looking over her shoulder at Arthur who already went to get the bag, the man, Josiah, chuckling lightly but it was cut off with a wince “the back is playing up a bit, I’m afraid” he stated jokingly in a very cordial way, Leah smirking as she examined his face “well, your sense of humor is certainly in good health. Can I ask what happened to you?”

“I’m afraid I ran into some rather-... unsavory fellers…”

“They beat you up?”

“It’s not as bad as it look-” he winced and flinched when Leah touched the right side of his jaw, Leah humming quietly, opening her bag to look through it. “Answer me honestly; on a scale of one to ten, ten being the most painful thing you’ve ever endured, the most horrible, excruciating thing you could ever possibly feel, where would you say your pain is at in? And remember, don’t downplay it, I can’t help you if you downplay it” she reminded him and he hesitated before sighing “a six… maybe a seven” he admitted and she nodded, looking at Arthur “get Swanson” she ordered quietly, before turning back to Josiah “do you have any other injuries? Could you perhaps describe what happened?”

“It’s really not for a lady to hea-”

“Mr. Trelawny, I’m a female Puerto Rican doctor who spent half of her life in Texas after my mom died when I was twelve and I have a black father. I think I can handle hearing about getting a beating” she stated with amusement as Swanson arrived, “administer a low dose, please. Just enough to take the edge of the pain but no more than that” she ordered, looking over her shoulder when she heard footsteps approaching. “He was tortured” Charles said and she hesitated, studying Charles before looking back at Josiah “Mr. Trelawny, would you mind if I examined you more thoroughly? We can use my tent for privacy” she stated and he hesitated, making her smile a little “trust me, there is nothing that I haven’t already seen. A guy once came into my ER with a snake dangling from a rat that dangled from him where it had bitten him. The rat died while biting him, and it couldn’t let go because of it, it’s jaws had locked in place. The snake wasn’t dead, by the way, and the rat it hung onto was hanging from a very… sensitive area for any man” she admitted, Josiah nodding and sighed “I suppose it’s… better to be on the safe side?” he asked nervously and Leah nodded with a smile “it most certainly is. Do you consent to the pain medication?” she asked, Josiah nodded and she smiled “I need verbal consent…”

“Yes, I consent, my dear” he stated with a charming smile and she nodded at Swanson, waiting until the morphine was administered before helping him as he struggled to stand up, accepting her help as she led him to her tent, Charles bringing her bag along, walking into the tent with her to place it on the grass. “Do you mind if Charles stays? Or would you rather that he left?”

“That depends on the examination” he joked awkwardly and Leah chuckled “I won’t do anything without your consent, and if something makes you uncomfortable, don’t be afraid to tell me. Where else does it hurt?”

“My chest… my feet” he admitted and she nodded “what would you rather we take first?”

“Feet.”

“Alright. Would you prefer to take off your own shoes?” she asked and he nodded, bending down, wincing a little in pain but he got them off and his socks, Leah kneeling down to inspect them, frowning “there’s several burn marks and a few cuts… did they burn you?”

“I’m afraid so… not a pretty sight, is it?” he joked and she smiled up at him “I’ve sadly seen this before, on Sean… but hey, at least it’s not the snake guy” she joked before looking at Charles “in my bag there’s some disinfect- yup, that one” she stated with a smirk, taking the bottle from Charles when he offered it to her, followed by some gauze, Leah gently wetting the gauze with the disinfectant before looking up at Josiah “this might hurt…”

“I can handle it” he stated and she nodded, gently dapping the gauze over the faint burn marks and cuts, cringing every time he hissed in pain. “Almost done, Mr. Trelawny” she stated softly, taking some bandages from Charles, wrapping his feet gently as Josiah unbuttoned his shirt awkwardly, letting Leah examine his torso “they gave you quite the round” she muttered, gently pressing over areas, making a note of where it hurt, and how much. “What’s the verdict, will I live?”

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Trelawny” she joked back with a smirk “nothing’s broken, I can’t be sure without an X-Ray but as far as I can tell, you’re mildly okay.”

“‘Mildly’? Tell me, will I ever be able to play the violin again?”

“Could you play it before?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Then probably not” she joked back with him, standing up to examine his face as he buttoned up his shirt and covered his chest again. “Your jaw isn’t broken, or locked, you’ll have a black eye tomorrow, though… your jaw is going to be quite sore so I suggest resting it as much as possible, that means soft meals and reduced talking. Your feet are bruised and are going to need time to heal, try not to walk too much on them, you can take the bandages off as you sleep, the fresh air would do them good and they’d heal faster” she informed and he nodded “I think perhaps I’ll-... lay low here, for a while” he muttered and she nodded with a smile “that sounds like a good idea. I suggest you take my bed-”

“No, I couldn’t-”

“I insist. You wouldn’t refuse a lady insisting, would you?” she asked with a smirk, Josiah sighing heavily “I suppose not…”

“Good. I’ll just sleep somewhere else” she stated with a shrug, looking over her shoulder at Charles “maybe I’ll snatch Arthur’s bed” she joked before looking back at Josiah. “The morphine should have kicked in a little while ago, you might be a bit drowsy. You can go on ahead and sleep now if you feel like it, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t” she stated, grabbing her bag before walking out with Charles, closing the flap to her tent, walking over to Arthur as Charles parted to do his own things. “Well, what’s the verdict?”

“He’ll live, though he’ll never be able to play the violin.”

“He could do that before?”

“No” she admitted with amusement, Arthur looking at her before chuckling, the laugh coming from deep within him and it made her blush a little at how much she liked it. “You know, Arthur… I never thanked you for saving my life. I thanked Charles back in the mountains but I don’t think I ever truly thanked you…”

“There’s no need at all. Seeing you ‘round here, helpin’ out as best you can, lifting everyone’s spirit, it’s enough for me” he stated and she smiled but gestured towards his tent in a head nod “I still got you something” she stated, already walking off, stopping to turn and look over her shoulder at him as he stayed put “c’mon” she called and he sprung into action, following her to his tent and she placed her bag on his bed, opening it and looking through it. Arthur was unable to not look at-... well-... at her… as she bent over, right in front of him, with her backside facing him as she dug through that bag of hers. “I knew I left it in here… hold on” she muttered to herself, digging through it before getting out a light brown, leatherbound journal, turning around and presenting it to him “here. I uh, I overheard something about your old journal getting filled up, and that it was damaged from some fire you barely saved it from. So I figured to could use a new one” she stated with a shrug as Arthur accepted the gift, staring at it, opening it, combing through the pages, the tip of his thumb feeling the pages as they fell into place and he closed it again, nodding with a smirk “thanks, I was thinking ‘bout getting a new one” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and she smiled “well, now you don’t have to” she stated with a smile, Arthur looking down at the journal as he examined it, nodding with a smile “guess not… good quality, too” he mumbled to himself, looking up from it, about to ask her where she got it from when his lips was met with hers. Both of them were frozen in place in shock, Leah quickly redrawing, cheeks blazing and red “I-I’m sorry I-... I-I was-... o-on your cheek a-a-and then you turned your head and-... sorry” she mumbled, swallowing the lump in her throat “sorry” she mumbled again, barely able to grab her bag before rushing off, leaving a shell-shocked Arthur to stand there, staring at the empty spot where she had been.

------------------------------------------

“Kill me, Abigail…”

“Why?”

“Because I kissed Arthur-”

“You did WHAT??”

“It was an accident!”

“How do you kiss someone by accident?” she asked through a laugh, Leah glaring at her, hard “I was going to kiss his cheek and he turned his head at the wrong time-”

“Or the right time.”

“And it just-... happened!” she explained in a panic, ignoring Abigail’s little ‘right time’ comment, Abigail chuckling lightly at her panic “whatchu so worried ‘bout? That he didn’t like it? Honey, he’s been eyein’ you since they brought you in way back when you was passed out all them months ago! And he’s been eyein’ you especially after Shaun’s party!” Abigail stated with utter amusement and Leah’s eyes were wide and her cheeks were dark with a blush as she gently slapped Abigail’s arm “don’t say that!”

“Why? It’s true-”

“It is not!”

“It is! What’re you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid-”

“Mhm” she hummed with a knowing smirk, Leah sighing heavily “it’s just-... I-... nevermind” she muttered with a sigh, Abigail chuckling “no, what is it?”

“I can’t-”

“Why?”

“Because-... this is 1899! I just-... can’t…”

“Why?”

“Because it’s 1899!”

“So?”

“So! It’s not something that-.... I just-...”

“What?” Abigail asked much more softly this time, Leah looking up at her, studying her before gently shaking her head “I can’t… I don’t know why I even wanted to say anything to begin with… just forget it?”

“I can’t when it’s obviously somethin’ that’s bugging you” she stated sweetly and Leah sighed softly, looking around as though she was about to spill a secret “it’s-... complicated and-... I-I get it if you-... A-And I understand-”

“Don’t think, thinkin’ just makes it harder. Just spit it out.”

“I’m gay. At least-... I thought I was. But I’m not? I think I’m not? But I am?” she babbled, Abigail looking her up and down before chuckling lightly “I wouldn’t exactly call you gay” she stated with amusement, Leah frowning at her with utter confusion “I-... what?”

“You just-... don’t seem like you’d fit into gay, you know? It ain’t meant as an insult! I ain’t fitting into anything gay either, it just doesn’t suit me-”

“You’re talking about clothes??”

“Yeah, what’re you talking about?”

“Girls” Leah stated plainly, Abigail frowning “I ain’t rightly sure what’s going on” she admitted, Leah narrowing her eyes at her before sighing, groaning to herself as she nodded a little “right, the word originally once referred to-... right” she muttered to herself before looking back at Abigail “I’ve had a-... relationship… with a woman… in fact it’s the only relationship I’ve had” she muttered, Abigail’s eyes widening a little, her eyebrows high on her forehead “oh” she muttered, looking away before frowning, looking back at her again with confusion “well… Why would that matter with Arthur?”

“I just-... i-it-... wasn’t - isn’t - accepted by a lot of people back then - I mean - now” she stuttered, Abigail shrugging “maybe, but it don’t matter to me, and I can promise you that it don’t matter to Arthur one bit.”

“It’s just-... I thought-... I thought I only liked women… I’ve never-....”

“You ain’t never…?”

“No…”

“Not even with your-... uh… wife?”

“Oh, no, we weren’t married! We uh, we broke up after two years together- or, I broke up with her…”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What happened?”

“Well, apparently she was screwing my best friend and her boyfriend together at the same time, so” Leah stated bluntly, Abigail’s eyes wide in shock at her words “oh, well good thing she ain’t here then, I’d have half a mind to show her just how much I’d appreciate someone doin’ that to my friend” she stated half-jokingly yet completely serious at the same time, Leah smiling, chuckling briefly “I’d love to see that.”

“What happened to her?”

“Well, my best friend and her boyfriend broke up after I caught all three of them together, I broke up with my girlfriend whom I had bought a ring for to propose. My then ex-girlfriend and my ex-best friend got together, they lasted about a year before getting drunk, getting married and then divorcing five days later when they sobered up and I think she actually got knocked up by someone” Leah recapped and Abigail chuckled lightly “I ain’t rightly sure where you found those kind of people.”

“Med school. Except my then girlfriend dropped out” Leah stated with a shrug and Abigail grinned, shaking her head with amusement “well, maybe there’s a reason for everythin’? If that’s the case, I’m happy it led us to meet you. You’ve been a real blessin’ for us-”

“As Micah constantly and creepily wants to show me” she muttered with disgust, Abigail sighing heavily “he ain’t a favorite of mine either” she admitted bitterly, Leah smirking at her “I think I know who’s your favorite of the boys” she teased, Abigail frowning at her before her cheeks turned red “don’t matter-”

“Of course it does! You’re his mom!” Leah stated with a grin, Abigail staring at her before bursting out into laughter “I thought you meant John!”

“I know you did” Leah stated with amusement as Abigail laughed. “So, whose your favorite?”

“Well…”

“Can I guess?”

“I don’t think you’ll get it right, but sure, give it a shot.”

“Jack?”

“Damn! How’d you know??” Leah exclaimed, the two women laughing and chuckling together. “He’s such a cute little thing! God, I want one one day” she stated half-jokingly, Abigail chuckling lightly “well, Arthur’s certainly good with him, I’m sure he’d be even better if it was-”

“Don’t put ideas into my head!” Leah laughed, Abigail laughing even louder, the two of them seemingly unable to not laugh, their faces almost red as tears ran down their cheeks, their stomachs hurting from laughter as they continued and continued to laugh.

---------------------------------------------------------

“All things considered, you’re doing quite well, Mr. Trelawny” Leah stated with a smile as she examined the bruises on his face, giving him a smirk “you’ll most definitely still be able to catch the ladies with a charming smile” she added jokingly, Josiah chuckling briefly “I shall do my best, my dear” he stated and she smiled at him before zipping her bag back up, just as someone approached and she looked over her shoulder at Javier as he reached them, Josiah getting up to do something else, Javier taking his place in front of her on the barrels Josiah had been on. “So, how is he?”

“I believe he’ll still be able to con the devil with a charming smile” she replied jokingly, Javier nodding with an amused smirk “that definitely sounds like Trelawny. Hey, I was thinking, what’s between you and Arthur?” his question made her freeze and she narrowed her eyes at him “¿Qué?” she asked casually, feigning cluelessness, making Javier scoff “don’t play that, Hermosa. Come on, I’ve seen how he looks at you, how you look at him-”

“Cállate!” she hissed, Javier chuckling “no, I’m not gonna shut up. Listen, all I’m saying is that it’s obvious that there’s something there. Wanna know what I think?”

“Not really.”

“Act on it. We only have one life, Amiga! Make the best of it, there’s no point in holding back” he stated with a grin and his grin turned into a smirk when he saw how Leah hesitated, looking around hesitantly before sighing “I-... can’t…”

“Why not? Give me one good reason.”

“I’ve never-... you know… I-I mean I have b-but it wasn’t-...”

“You’re a virg-”

“Could you scream that a little louder, please? I don’t think everyone heard you” she hissed, Javier smirking at her “you’re a virgin?”

“I mean-... both yes and no… I-I’m not-... I-I mean I have but nothing’s been-... ‘up there’ s-so I-... you know what? No! No, I’m not discussing this with you-!”

“Not even if I could help you get with Arthur?” he asked with a smirk, watching how any protest, or insult, died on her tongue before they could make it past her lips, her heart racing a little and she looked away, cheeks turning beet red. “How?” she muttered, it was barely audible, her jaw clenched, but Javier heard it. Of course he fucking heard it. “It’s easy, Hermosa. All you gotta do is look the part.”

“‘Look the part’?? You make it sound like I’m going to rob a bank with you guys and play the decoy! ‘Look the part’... What does that even mean??”

“It means; go into Rhodes and get something. A pretty dress, a skirt, whatever makes you feel good and beautiful. I’ll arrange the rest with Charles-”

“H-Hold on, roll that back a little… one: I don’t have money. Two: what am I meant to get?! I have no fashion sense! ‘A pretty dress’, how am I meant to know what that means?-”

“It means that if you feel good in it, if you like it, then it’s the right one. If you don’t feel pretty in it, if it doesn’t make you feel like the beautiful woman that you are, then you shouldn’t buy it. And don’t worry about the money, eh? I got you covered. Come see me before you go into town” he stated with a smirk, Leah sighing heavily as he got up to walk away “I’ll-... take Abigail with me, or something… IF I’m even doing this - we! - if WE are even doing this!” she whispered harshly, Javier chuckling lightly as he nodded “acuerdo” he tipped his bowler hat and Leah scoffed, gently shaking her head.

“‘Deal’... he’s making it sound like it’s a drug deal or something” she muttered to herself before sighing heavily, running a hand over her face in frustration. She looked over her shoulder at Abigail as she sat with Jack, watching him play with a fond smile on her lips, it was obvious that she was beyond proud of her son, who was only four years old. She pushed him to continue learning reading, which he found boring, of course, wanting nothing more than to be a gunslinger and Leah could swear that every time he proclaimed that, she ages at least five years. She was sure her hair was already turning gray. Leah hesitated, looking over at Javier who smirked at her before sighing heavily, getting up and walking over to Jack and Abigail, smiling at Jack. “Hey buddy, could I talk with your mom for a second? I’m sure if you ask really nicely that Uncle Hosea could read you a story” she said with a soft smile, Jack looking up at his mom before nodding and running off, Leah sighing heavily, worry evident on her face as she watched Jack run off to Hosea and Abigail stood up. “You’re lookin’ mighty pale, are you alright? It ain’t the whole ‘1899’ thing again, is it? Is it the heat?-”

“I’m-... I’m fine, I just-... need a favor” she admitted sheepishly, Abigail frowning a little and Leah sighed “I, uh… I-I-... maybe-... go talk with Javier, please, before I choke on my own tongue” Leah muttered with burning cheeks, sitting down on the box Abigail had been sitting on, her face in her hands as Abigail did as Leah asked, talking with Javier in hushed voices and when she returned, she had the biggest smile on her lips that Leah had ever seen, making Leah groan and hide her face in her hands. “‘Bout time you did somethin’ ‘bout it-”

“Shh!” Leah hissed, cheeks still burning red as she tried to hide away behind her hands. “Listen, tomorrow both Javier, Charles and Arthur are gonna go out, a stagecoach’s meant to come through from some bank, headin’ for Saint Denis. The boys’re gonna get it, it’s supposed to be filled with money and we’ll have a little party when they get back, that gives us time to find you somethin’-”

“What if the job goes wrong??”

“Trust me, one way or another, Javier is gonna make that party happen’” Abigail said through giggles, Leah rubbing her temples with her entire face burning hotter than the sun. At least that’s how it felt.

[spice-honey]

The Fanfic Editing Process

Hello everyone! Today I've decided to share a few tips on editing your chapters, for anyone who is new to writing or would like to improve their writing. Editing is a skill in itself. For me, it takes longer than writing the actual damn chapter. I think good editing takes stories to the next level and it's worth taking a moment to do it, instead of just eagerly hit the 'Post' button

First, what is editing? You assess the text for grammar, spelling, sentence and detail clarity along with plot development. Editing is often rewriting, moving paragraphs around, switching scene orders, adding or deleting characters, and changing POVs (if applicable). It requires a lot of "rounds" before it's ready. Each step below is a round in itself. Remember: you cannot edit a blank page. If you hate your writing, remind yourself this is your first draft - you will edit it later to make it better or different. But you have to write it first.

I use google docs. You can easily share it with your betas/friends, and keep track of suggestions and modifications they make. They can leave comments on specific passages and words, to which you can also reply. Google docs also has a chat function to edit and discuss live.

Google docs has spelling and grammar check (it's under Tools) that will scan the document below where your cursor is. So if you just want to spell check past chapter 7, go to chapter 7 and use the tool. It will skip anything before it. If you want to do the entire document, start up top.

Crtl + F and look for the specific words that are commonly overused such as that, really, very, just, then, literally, thing and dialogue tags. You don't have to write them out entirely, but if you used 'that' 7 times in a paragraph, you might want to rework some sentences to 5 take out. Readers get tired of repetitive words. You also don't have to banish every single dialogue tag, but when it's a conversation between 2 people you should use them to indicate tone or action. 'Said' is not necessarily dead, but you can omit it 95% of the time

Avoid long sentences. Run-on sentences are okay if grammatically correct, but stick to one idea per sentence otherwise it can be tiring to read.

Adverbs ending in -ly. 'She runs quickly' can be 'she sprints'. 'He walks quietly' can be ' He creeps'. Choose descriptive verbs if you can.

Pay attention to verb tenses. If you are writing in the present tense make sure you don't slip into past tense when it is not appropriate and vice versa.

In your own notes write scene summaries explaining to yourself why this scene is necessary (I use bullet points in the comments). What information or situation is being presented in each passage that is important to the plot in the long run. It helps you to keep tabs on your outline (if you have one). It's okay to just have scenes that don't actually add anything to the story other than the joy of reading them whatever they may be. But if you are struggling with your plot, make sure your story doesn't have a lot of those.

Italics. Depends on your formatting, of course, but if it is to bring emphasis on a single word, my personal rule is to do it once per page. When I copy and paste my chapters into Ffnet/Ao3 it comes without any formatting (bold, italic) so I have to add them back in manually on my final read-through. Surprisingly, I end up adding a lot fewer italics in the final edit than in the original script

The Final Read-through: it is done in your browser, at the document editor of ffnet/ao3. You will catch a lot more errors/weird sentences there despite having it read 100 times on google docs. Your brain just gets used to - visually - to the text and it will skip words as you re-read without you noticing. Having a different font and background will make your brain read it as if it's the first time. I tried tricking myself on google docs by changing font and colour but I didn't find it super effective (it may work for you, I don't know). Grammarly is also good to use here. I disable it on google docs because it slows down my browser. I like it mostly for punctuation.

Read it out loud. Yes, you'll have to disable the cringe factor but you will catch so many clunky sentences and missing words. Make sure narration sounds like narration and dialogue sounds like dialogue. I usually do Step 10 and 11 at the same time.

Any questions, my Asks are open! And if you have tips you'd like to share I'd LOVE to hear it.

Happy editing!

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Lovedust || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: Y/N and Peter have always hated each other but when Y/N discovers an element that can make people fall in love, her whole relationship flips upside down. 

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: I’m still working on the last part to thin ice but I’ve had the idea of a love potion series for Peter and since we’re in quarantine, I said fuck it. I’m such a sucker for an enemy to love type thing so this is great cause technically it’s a slowburn but not at the same time! Also Y/N is ADOPTED cause duh of course she is. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Warnings: Mild language, mean peter 

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six ||

part seven || part eight || epilogue 

You grew up with always hearing the saying that the heart wants what it wants. When your heart longed for a family, you found yourself among the Avengers who helped raised you into the woman you were meant to be. Deep down, you loved them more than you could possibly imagine and your heart felt full knowing they would always have your back. 

You weren’t sure how much room was left in your heart but you knew a person who you definitely didn’t make space for. Peter Parker. 

Your dad recruited him into the Avengers years ago but ever since the two of you met, you had always butted heads. 

There was a whole list of reasons why you hated him; the smirk he always had whenever he would see you and the way he said your name as if it was like venom in his mouth. 

There were times where Peter would leave smoke bombs in your room after you had just cleaned it or trap you in your room with his webbing when you were late for the movies. You always managed to get him back whether it was you throwing out all of his clothes into the courtyard when he needed to get ready for school or you hacking into his phone whenever he had an important call. 

Most of the time, it didn’t matter. You both knew you were smarter and wittier than he would ever be but the one thing he always had above you was that he had powers. It didn’t matter that you had grown up with superheroes or that your dad was the Tony Stark, Peter would always be an Avenger. 

Everyone in the complex knew the feud the two of you had but that didn’t stop them from stirring the pot now and then to witness it. 

You sat down on the couch as you continued to work on your paper quietly since you needed a change of scenery.  Bucky watched over your shoulder as he made breakfast in the kitchen. 

“ Homework?” 

“ Mhm. It’s about how the U.S could have avoided World War II if our president wasn’t so dumb,” You said as you kept your eyes glued to your screen,” I’ll let you read it once I finish it.”

Bucky smiled and turned his attention back to the stove,” Sounds good kiddo.” 

You had about thirty minutes before your paper was due and you felt like you were on a roll. You had enough time to knock out another page but as soon as you shifted to the next paragraph, loud music started to play from one of the rooms close by. 

You didn’t even have to look up to know that it was Peter. You turned around and looked sympathetically at Bucky for help but he shook his head when his eyes met yours. 

“ Don’t look at me, I’m making breakfast.”

You looked down at your laptop as if you were considering to ignore the music before getting up from the couch anyway and stomped over to Peter’s room. You could feel the vibration of the music underneath your feet as you knocked on the door violently,” Shut up Parker!” 

Not even a second later, the door swung open and revealed Peter who was only wearing sweatpants and a small smirk. 

“ What did you say? I can’t hear you,” Peter shouted over the music as he tried to close the door on you. 

You pushed the door open and slid through, heading straight for his phone that was attached to the room’s speaker. You grabbed it before he could reach you and you swiped your thumb over his phone screen to turn the music off,” You’re making my brain hurt and I can’t even hear myself think!”

“ Wait,” Peter gasped as he acted surprised,” you have a brain? I’m so sorry I didn’t even realize!” 

Peter tried to reach for his phone but you yanked it back and held your hand up,” You can get this back after I finish my paper. I’m serious Parker if I fail because of your dumbass music I’ll kill you.” 

You walked out of his room and back into the living room where Peter trailed behind you. At this point, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha were all in the kitchen as they silently watched the madness that unfolded right in front of them. 

You plopped back down on the couch but before you could place your laptop back into your lap, Peter grabbed it away from you and closed the screen harshly. 

“ Peter! I didn’t save it!”

“ Relax, you have google docs,” Peter said as he reached out his hand,” now give me my phone.”

You stood up as you tried to grab your laptop back but Peter casually held it over his head. 

You didn’t want to embarrass yourself even further so you didn’t even attempt to leap up and grab it out of his sneaky hands,“ Ugh, fine. Will you at least stop playing your shitty music so loudly?” 

Peter tilted his head to the side for a moment,” Do you really want this back?”

You knew Peter was playing a trick on you but you were so frustrated, you took the bait anyway. 

“ Yes, I would like my laptop back,” You sighed as Peter smiled cheekily back at you. 

Peter nodded and shrugged,” Okay, now ask me nicely. Didn’t your dad teach you manners?” 

You fumed silently as you tried to keep your temper down,” May I please have my laptop back...you little shit!” 

Peter clicked his tongue and shook his head,” That’s kinda mean Y/N but for you I’ll give it back...if you beg for it.” 

Your face grew hot and before you knew it, you lunged at Peter. Both you and Peter hit the floor as the two of you wrestled to try and grab your belongings back. Once you grabbed your laptop, you scrambled back up before glaring back at Peter. 

“ You idiot! You could’ve broken my-” As you opened your laptop, you saw your screen completely cracked. If you squinted, you could barely make out any words that were on your page. 

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach as you could feel how close you were to crying. You had been working on this paper for days and you knew you still had so much to work on. 

Peter watched your face as he visibly gulped,” Y/N-”

“ Forget it!” You snapped back as you gather the rest of your notes and pushed past him,” fucking asshole.” 

You pressed your laptop and your notebooks against your chest as you figured you could find an empty computer up in the labs. Peter hesitantly watched as you walked away and into one of the glass elevators.

“ I’m sorry!” He shouted as the elevator started to go up. 

You looked down at Peter and made eye contact with him before sticking up your middle finger. Peter shook his head as stuffed his hands into his pocket and mumbled underneath his breath. 

“You’re terrible with women,” Sam sighed as Peter turned his attention towards the kitchen. 

Peter pointed back at himself and towards the elevator,” Me? She’s being the difficult one!” 

Natasha shook her head as she grabbed her coffee mug and walked towards Peter,” Take my advice kid, if you like a girl, I would refrain from...whatever you just did. Ever heard of flowers or a card?” 

“ I don’t like her, how many times do I have to tell you guys!” Peter huffed as his face grew bright red. 

“ Even if you don’t like her, you need to at least apologize, it’s the right thing to do,” Natasha said as she patted his shoulder and walked off, leaving Peter to feel guilty. 

Once you got to the labs, you found a vacant computer in the hallway and started to work on your paper. At this point, you were just bullshitting it and after a few minutes of angrily typing, you decided you would just submit it since you were exhausted. 

As you wheeled your chair back away from the desk, you spotted Banner in one of the main labs by himself. His body hunched over the desk as he looked directly into a microscope.

Even from your position, you could see that whatever he was looking at was glowing bright pink. You rested your knee against the desk as you leaned back in your chair, attempting to try and get a better look. 

You had never seen anything in science ever give off such a vibrant color before and you were intrigued, to say the least. As cool as it was living in the Avengers complex with superheroes, you were more fascinated on what went down in the labs than on the battlefield. 

As you stretched back, you felt the wheel underneath your chair slip from underneath you and a second later, you fell to the ground with a hard thud. You clasped your hand over your mouth as you listened to hear footsteps coming closer.

The door to the lab chamber opened up to a whirring sound as cold air whipped past you, you had been caught.

“ Y/N? What are you doing down there?” Banner asked as he helped you up to your feet. 

Without missing a beat you looked over his shoulder and pointed to the glowing object,” What is that? Can I look at it with you?” 

Banner followed your line of sight to where his microscope was positioned and then back at you. 

“ Um, I’m not sure your dad would want you-”

“ Please? Just for a second, I promise,” You whined while Banner sighed as if he knew he was defeated. 

Out of all the Avengers, Banner was always the one to go easy on you and you knew he would fall for your puppy dog eyes. 

“ Fine, but just for a second but don’t touch anything,” You followed Banner into the lab as the cold air sterilized you and your clothes,” put these on.”

You put on your lab coat and gloves as you followed closely behind him. He motioned his hand to the microscope as you gladly accepted the offer. 

You peeked into the microscope as you examined the slide. It was hard to see anything besides the pink glow but after looking at it closer, you could make out small, powdery rocks as small as a grain of rice. 

“Okay well, this definitely isn’t a bunch of pop rocks so what is it?” You asked, turning back to Banner,” this has ‘space stuff’ written all over it.”

Banner nodded as you stepped away from the microscope to rest your eyes,“It’s a form of moondust that works as a highly addictive psychostimulant that directly affects the hypothalamus. Thor brought it back for the lab so I could try and make a type of vaccine since it has really bad side effects.” 

“ What do you mean it has bad side effects- is that why my eyes hurt?” You asked nervously as Banner calmed you down.

“ Relax, it’s relatively safe as long as it doesn’t come in contact with water. You know what oxytocin is right? It’s called the love hormone and when this powder makes contact with human skin-”

“ Oxytocin-So, like a love potion?” You questioned as Banner stopped for a moment before nodding,” You have to let me help you, please let me help you. School is so easy right now, I need something challenging so my brain cells don’t deteriorate!” 

You could tell that Banner was hesitant about allowing a seventeen-year-old girl to help him find a cure for a space element that was highly addictive but in the name of science, he budged.

                                                              ----

“ I think we should call it a day. We’ve been working on this for hours and we still haven’t found anything that stands out,” Dr. Banner said as he stepped away from the lab table and stretched his neck out,” I heard your dad is making dinner for everyone tonight and I want front row seats to that trainwreck.”

You checked the time and saw that it had been hours since you’ve eaten or even saw the light of day. As hungry and tired as you were, you knew that if it was a big dinner, Peter would be joining in. 

For the first time in hours, you remembered everything that had gone down earlier in the day and it just made you mad all over again. 

You backed up from the microscope and nodded as you felt how sore your neck was starting to feel,” I’ll probably head down later. I just want to be sure we’re not missing anything.” 

“ I wanted to thank you again for your help with all of this. I know it’s not your department but I’m glad to see you in the lab,” Banner said as some of the other scientists in the lab started to leave,” it’s really great to see young people interested in science.” 

“ Well, it helps when you have a great teacher,” You smiled as Banner grinned back. 

Once he left the lab, you turned your attention back to what you and Banner called “ Lovedust”. As you looked at the powder, you felt a wave of sadness wash over you. 

You weren’t sure if it was from the powder or how long you’ve been working on a serum but looking at the Lovedust made you feel helpless.

 You had been in relationships in the past that were never the healthiest but if you had known back then that an actual love potion existed, maybe it could’ve saved you a few heartaches.  

You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear the sterilization door open as Peter stepped in quietly, watching you from afar. 

He crept up behind you to where he was a mere centimeters away from his chin touching your shoulder. 

“ Whatcha got there?” Peter asked loudly as you jumped up from your seat, shrieking. 

You hit the table with your knee hard as you whipped around, completely flustered, to see Peter leaning against one of the lab tables laughing. 

“ Very funny idiot!” You said as you smacked the back of his head,” you can’t sneak up on someone like that- especially in a laboratory!” 

Peter pushed your hand away as his gaze fell on the Lovedust that was now sprawled over the table. 

He pointed over to the powder as he kneeled in front of it,” Woah, what is this stuff?”

Your eyes grew wide as you grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him away from the table. If Peter were to come into contact with it, who knows what trouble he could stir up. 

“ Promise me that you will not touch it! I need a sweepy thingy!” You shouted as you scrambled around the room to find a dustpan. 

Peter only rolled his eyes as he pulled up a chair so he could get a better look at the glowing dust. Peter whistled low as you finally found the dustpan that was underneath one of the lab tables. 

“ Were you hiding up here this whole time staring at this thing?” Peter asked as you stopped in front of the table and shooed him to the side,” are you going to tell me what this is or am I going to have to touch it to get your attention?” 

You set a deadly gaze to Peter before turning your attention to the mess he had caused. Banner said it was relatively harmless as long as it didn’t touch water and as you looked around the room, you noticed there wasn’t a sink or beaker close by. 

You sighed as you turned to Peter,” It’s moondust they found on Thor’s planet. Just don’t spit on it or lick it cause if it comes in contact with water, it gets super reactive.” 

Peter looked up curiously at you as he raised his eyebrow,” How reactive?”

You mimicked an explosion noise with your mouth as your hands spread out into jazz fingers which made Peter laugh. 

“ Okay, got it, no water,” Peter said before he backed up from the table and started looking around the lab. Peter watched as you tried your best to sweep up the remaining dust carefully as he leaned against one of the bunsen burners. 

“ Why are you here? Cause if it’s an apology, I don’t want to hear it,” You said finally as Peter straightened up his back,” I’m tired of your lame excuses.”

While his whole plan was to come up and apologize, he felt all that motivation and guilt fade away since you had said it in a snarky tone.  

“ Why would I apologize?” Peter responded as you shook your head, laughing dryly,” for the laptop? You were the one who lunged at me!”

It all made sense to you, Peter would never own up to his mistakes and now, his mistake had cost you another laptop. 

You kept your focus to the table but you clicked your tongue,” You know what Peter, I’m not saying you have to treat me like the Queen of England, but I’ll be damned if you don’t respect me. I think you need to remember who you’re talking to, I’m a Stark.” 

Peter moved away from the table and stood next to you with his arms crossed against his chest. 

“ You think you can intimidate me? Y/N, we’re not friends, I don’t owe you anything.”

You turned to face Peter as you felt pure rage growing inside your chest,” You’re right, you don’t owe me anything. But that suit you run around in and that room you sleep in every night is thanks to my dad. Before my dad showed up you were nothing. Humble yourself Spiderboy.”

Peter’s face looked visibly hurt for a second before glaring right back at you,” I need to humble myself? All you ever do is go around saying how smart you are just because your dad is Tony Stark. You’re almost eighteen and yeah you got a full ride to Columbia and you’re valedictorian but you wasted your whole high school years on never accomplishing anything! You never went to a single party, you never passed your driver’s test, and you’ve never even had a boyfriend before.” 

“ Newsflash Parker, I’ve had boyfriends before but unlike you, my relationships don’t dictate whether or not I’ve accomplished something!” You snapped back as you took a step towards Peter,” and at least my boyfriend’s dads don’t end up in jail.” 

Peter didn’t even hesitate as the words slipped right out of his mouth,” And at least my girlfriends actually loved me back.”

Immediately, nausea swirled in your empty stomach as your mind started to feel swarmed with old memories of every relationship you had. The room felt still and you thought that if you let a tear out, it would make noise once it hit the floor. 

Peter immediately regretted his words once again as he watched your stern face fall into a somber one. Before he could reach out to you, he felt the hair on his arm raise up at the same time. 

“ Wow, low blow Parker-” You turned around and when you looked at the table behind you, half of your notes and papers were lit up in flames. 

Before you could even let out a gasp, the sprinkler system came on as water sprayed every inch of the room, including the Lovedust. 

“ No no no!” You yelled as you scrambled over to the other side of the room to shut the water off,” Peter help me!” 

Peter carefully tried to run through the slippery floor without falling but once he saw you slip on the way to the button, he almost sprinted towards you. When he felt his foot slip from underneath him, he jolted his arm out to catch himself on the table. 

He could feel the Lovedust crunch underneath his palm as his blood ran cold. You had never told him what the powder was except that it would explode so Peter desperately tried rubbing the powder onto his pants. 

You picked yourself up from the ground and used all of your weight to press the button and stopped the sprinkler system. Within seconds, the sprinkler system halted as you looked back at Peter, who was completely drenched in water. 

“ Nice going- hey, are you okay?” You asked as you moved your wet hair out of your face before stopping in the middle of your step. 

Peter’s left hand and his whole left side of his jeans were covered in glowing pink dust that was turning redder by the second. 

“ I need to sit down,” Peter said softly before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his feet crumbled underneath him. 

Once Peter hit the ground, you screamed for help as you slid across the wet floor, kneeling close to Peter. 

You did your best to avoid touching his whole left side as you lifted the upper half of his body and propped his head up against the leg of the table. You cupped your hands around his face as you moved a few strands of wet hair so you could see better. 

“ Peter? Damn it, Peter!” You shook him harshly as you felt your heart sink to your stomach,” Wake up! Wake up!” 

Your hands trembled as you checked his head to make sure he didn’t bust it open. Every ounce of angry you held towards him quickly faded once you thought that Peter was seriously injured. 

After shaking him for a moment, Peter’s eyes slowly opened. The first thing he could feel was warmth spreading across his whole body like nothing he had ever felt before. His heart permanently felt like it was skipping a beat every few seconds and his chest felt extremely tight. 

His breathing was uneven as if he had just ran a marathon but once his vision started coming back, every ounce of breath was taken from his lungs. As you stared back at Peter with a worried expression, his heart sped up even faster as he found himself getting lost into the deep color of your eyes. 

“ Peter? Can you hear me?” You asked as you snapped your fingers close to his ear but Peter barely flinched. 

He nodded, hanging onto every word as if it was words on a page and he felt immediate comfort in hearing your sweet voice. He managed to pull his gaze away from your eyes but next, he focused on your lips and made details of the way you said his name. 

“ Oh thank god, don’t worry, help is coming. Just stay awake for me okay?” You sighed as you nervously pushed another strand of wet hair behind your ear, which made Peter sigh deeply. 

He wanted nothing more than to reach out to you and tuck a strand of hair away from your face but he was too distracted by how you looked in front of him. Even though you were soaking wet from head to toe, Peter couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. 

“ I’m so glad you’re okay,” You admitted as you smiled before pulling your hands away from his face. 

Everything besides his heartbeat seemed to stop once you smiled and that’s when Peter deep down knew something was wrong but he didn’t care. The way your lips lifted upward into a smile filled with complete relief made his heart beat even faster. 

Peter swallowed hard before looking up at you as his face flushed a deep shade of red,” I don’t know what’s happening to me...but I’ve never loved you more than right now. I can’t help it, I love you, I’ve always loved you Y/N.” 

Your smile dropped as you looked down at Peter’s whole left side. The Lovedust was completely gone and you knew in that moment that his skin must’ve absorbed the remainder of it.

In a matter of seconds, a boy who wanted nothing to do with you and claimed no boy had ever loved you was now professing his undying love for you. 

“ You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

[keewriting]

Cove x MC - One Shot #3 (request)

[Read on google docs to insert your MC's name]

SPOILER WARNING: Don't read if you haven't finished Step 3!

Your insides bubbled with excitement as the car neared the cabin nestled deeply in the forest. The fresh blanket of snow was nearly blinding in the bright morning sun. You looked over to your driver, Cove, who wore a focused scowl.

Cove: We made it. I can’t believe we made it.

Y/N: Isn’t it gorgeous? There is so much SNOW.

Cove smiled at you with apprehension. This trip was a special one for many reasons. You were both freshly 19, so it was your first holiday together as independent adults. On that note, it was also your first holiday away from your families. You felt more down about that than Cove did. His main gripe was the snow, and it was unmistakable in his expression. Cove parked the car in the designated snowless space. You both stepped out, Cove with a little less enthusiasm than you did.

Cove: Snow, snow, and more snow.

The cabin was glowing and decked out in beautiful Christmas decorations. An intermingling of garland and lights hung across the roof. More garland and Christmas baubles framed the frosted windows. Oversized candy canes lined the pathway up to the porch. The wreath on the front door was massive. It hung proudly with a cute snowman proclaiming “Let it Snow!”

Cove: The owners didn’t hold back out here. It’s impressive.

Mesmerized, you could only nod. The online advertisement described the cabin as a pre-decorated Christmas escape. The images you showed Cove online were spectacular, but they did not do justice to the real thing.

Not wanting to stand outside any longer, Cove moved to the trunk and began unloading the luggage. Cove first extracted a suitcase that he claimed was not filled entirely with gifts for you. Your gift for Cove lived safely in your own suitcase, already wrapped and ready to go. He then removed both of your clothing-packed suitcases. You were proud of your ability to convince Cove to bring winter-appropriate clothing to this trip.

You helped Cove drag the luggage to the front door. The host messaged you the entrance code before your arrival. You punched it into the keypad which stood in place of a normal keyhole. 1-2-2-5. Clever.

You paused for dramatic effect, then slowly opened the door to reveal the inside. It looked like a Christmas bomb went off, in the best way possible. You squealed and bounded inside first, leaving Cove to the luggage.

The cabin was small and cozy. The kitchen and living area were open to each other. There was no bedroom, only a pull-out couch that sat comfortably in front of a fireplace. The only other doors in the cabin were for the bathroom and a storage closet.

The Christmas tree drew in your eyes first. You stepped closer to inspect it and inhale the sweet evergreen scent. The tree skirt was wide and inviting to colorful wrapped boxes. Cranberry and popcorn strands wrapped the tree from bottom to top. An assortment of ornaments littered the branches. You peered into one of the big red baubles and smiled at your distorted reflection. Finally, you tilted your head upwards to take in the tree topper— a stunning golden star.

You spun around excitedly to appreciate the rest of the decorations. There wasn’t a corner or window without winter greenery. Festive cushions sat on either side of the couch. Stockings hung by the chimney with care. A miniature village of joyful folk lived on a console table by the entrance. You turned to face Cove, who had just finished lugging everything inside by himself. He shut the door and smiled at you, happy that you were already having a magical time.

Y/N: I’m sorry, Cove. I got a little carried away with—

You halted your own sentence. Your gaze drew upward to the ceiling above Cove. A mistletoe hung delicately in the doorway. Cove followed your sight, twisting his head for a better view. You strode towards him before he could speak. You stared at him intently and wiggled one of your eyebrows. He met your gaze again, already blushing intensely.

Cove: It’s one of those...

His sentence trailed off as you stepped even closer and hushed him.

Y/N: Just kiss me, you big, beautiful dumbass.

Cove gulped hard. He gently took your face in his cold hands. You hoped the heat from your blushing face would warm them. He bent towards you as you stood on your toes to meet the kiss. Your lips danced together sweetly. You parted after a moment and stared into each other's eyes. Cove’s ocean blue eyes glistened and crinkled with the wide smile that spread across his face. You dove into a hug, wrapping your arms around his tall frame. He returned the hug enthusiastically.

Cove: Let’s get everything unpacked and unwind. I need to get that fireplace lit as soon as possible.

You agreed and helped Cove locate a suitable location for the luggage. He paused with his gift-laden suitcase in hand. Face lost in thought, Cove's grip tightened on the suitcase.

Y/N: Everything okay, Cove?

Cove: Today is Christmas Eve.

Y/N: That it is.

Cove: Presents go under the tree on Christmas Eve.

You chuckled at his observations, but allowed him to continue speaking. He brushed it off casually.

Cove: I want this to be special, Y/N. If I put the gifts under the tree now you’ll see them and start wondering what’s inside.

The concern in his tone was apparent. It was just like Cove to worry so deeply about something most people wouldn’t think about. You pondered for a moment.

Y/N: Wait for me to fall asleep tonight, then sneak them under the tree like the real Santa Claus.

Cove laughed at the implication of a “real” Santa Claus. You were glad to see his mood lighten. He hesitated, then set the suitcase behind the others, careful to conceal it. Perhaps in an attempt to block you from using your x-ray vision to see through the luggage. You thought it was ridiculous, but in the sweetest way. Satisfied with the arrangement, Cove slapped his hands against his legs.

Cove: Well, now what? What Christmas activities does Y/N have planned today?

Y/N: Let me just pull out my Christmas to-do list.

You spoke sarcastically with a twinkle in your eyes. Cove rolled his eyes lightheartedly and wandered to the fireplace. While he fiddled with it you sank heavily into the couch. With an enthused “Aha!” from Cove, the fireplace roared to life. It crackled pleasantly.

Cove turned around to smile at you sweetly. He patted the ground next to him. You got up and settled in next to Cove. He wrapped his arm around you and drew you in closer. You immediately appreciated the warmth from both Cove and the fireplace. You leaned on his shoulder.

You spent the rest of the morning watching Christmas movies and munching on candy canes. For lunch, you and Cove made macaroni and cheese. You both welcomed the gooey warmth of the meal.

Imbued with energy from lunch, you leapt from your seat and proclaimed.

Y/N: We have to go outside and enjoy the snow before the sun goes down.

Cove made a sour face and spoke quietly without looking up from his now empty bowl.

Cove: Enjoy, yeah…

You sighed and clenched your jaw, restraining yourself. You knew Cove would be difficult regarding the snow, but hoped the special occasion would nudge him along.

Y/N: Fine. I’ll go outside myself.

Cove’s head immediately snapped up and he stared at you with wide, pleading eyes. He didn’t expect you to so easily give up on convincing him. You maintained an unimpressed expression while he spoke.

Cove: No, Y/N. I’ll come with you. You know I love spending time with you no matter what.

Your expression cracked with a hint of a smile, but you regained control.

Y/N: You’re going to hate it. Don’t bother.

You weren’t sure why you were being so stubborn with this. Cove was willing to compromise, but you still felt annoyed that his initial reaction put a damper on your mood. You shut your eyes tightly, now irritated by your own childishness.

Cove stood up and firmly gripped your shoulders. He waited for you to look at him. You met his gaze and stuck out your bottom lip in a small pout.

Cove: Let’s go build a snowman. It’ll be like building a sandcastle.

You sighed, but couldn’t resist his comforting voice and adoring eyes.

Y/N: I’m going to have to bundle you in layers. Gloves, a hat, maybe even a scarf.

Cove cringed at each word that escaped your lips. He nodded anyway. You both put on more winter gear in preparation for the snow activities. You held open the door for Cove, who hesitantly stepped outside.

Cove: This is way worse than the ice skating rink.

Y/N: You don’t say?

You loved teasing Cove for his blunt and often obvious statements, but he knew you adored him for it. He scoffed and stuck his tongue out at you.

Y/N: Careful with that, might get stuck on a pole.

Cove retreated his tongue and blushed lightly. You gently poked his tummy then grabbed his hand to lead him into the snow. You chose a wide open space away from the cabin for your snowman’s home. You started shoveling snow into a pile. Cove stood reluctantly nearby. You didn’t want to push him, but hoped he would join in the building.

To your surprise, it was only a moment before Cove dug his gloved hands into the snow. He smiled at you shakily while adding to your growing pile of snow. You went back and forth between adding snow and rounding the pile into a snowman base. Cove’s big hands proved useful in this endeavor. With the base done, you moved onto the head.

Y/N: We have to make the head smaller than the body.

Cove: How small? Do you want to give him a shrunken head?

You cackled at the thought, but shook your head.

Y/N: I think he deserves a normal sized head.

Between the two of you, the snowman’s head slowly grew. You stepped back to assess the size.

Y/N: I think that’s perfect. What do you think, Cove?

Cove stepped back as well and tilted his head. He spoke matter-of-factly.

Cove: Looks like a snowman.

Y/N: Not yet, he needs a face and arms.

You scoured the ground around you for twigs, leaves, and rocks. Cove did the same.

Cove: If only we had seashells. That would bring it all together.

With your findings combined, you got to work on designing the snowman. His face came together in a wide smile made of various pebbles. Leaves stuck to the top of his head represented the hair. Two sticks on either side of his body became the arms. Cove found several small pinecones to pin on his front like an array of buttons. Finally, the nose. You didn’t have a carrot on hand, so you opted for another one of Cove’s pointier pinecones.

Once again, you stepped back with Cove to admire your work. You wrapped your arm around him in a side hug, he returned the gesture with an arm around your shoulder.

Y/N: He’s beautiful.

You pretended to dramatically wipe a tear from your eye.

Cove: We should name him.

You agreed, and began to ponder names that would fit the snowman. After much deliberation, you settled on Sandy, as a memento of the inspiration for his existence.

Y/N: Sandy the Snowman, it really is perfect.

Cove: Next time we’re at the beach we should build a sandman and name him Snowy.

Cove waggled his eyebrows at you, hoping for a reaction to his hilarious joke. You couldn’t contain the grin that emerged from within. You were suddenly overcome by a wave of affection for Cove. His dorky jokes, the way he looked at you, his willingness to put his own comfort aside for your sake. You wanted nothing more than to push him down into the snow and ravage him. Knowing better, you instead decided to grab his hand again and lead him back indoors.

Cove followed with a small gasp at your sudden insistence. Once inside, you leaned Cove against the door and pressed your lips into his. You were desperate for his warmth. He returned the kiss passionately, running his fingers through your hair. You broke away from Cove, satisfied with your second mistle-toe kiss. Cove stood bewildered, disappointed by losing the warmth of your lips. You winked at him, never tiring of teasing your flustered fiancé.

You spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying each other’s company. You played board games, sang Christmas songs, and drank hot chocolate. As the evening emerged, a light snowfall began outside. You gazed out the window, hypnotized by the dancing snowflakes. Your eyes began to droop, and you felt the weight of the day pulling you down. You yawned and turned to Cove, who was already turning the couch into a bed. He must have sensed your weariness.

Cove threw some blankets and pillows into the bed and you dove right into the inviting warmth. He joined you and extended his arm to make his chest available to your sleepy head. You nuzzled in and closed your eyes, ready to drift away…

You stirred awake at the feeling of the mattress shifting. Your eyes fluttered open and tried to adjust to the darkness. Cove was climbing back into bed. It was completely dark outside, you judged it must have been a few hours after you fell asleep. Still half asleep, you muttered quietly to Cove.

Y/N: Santa, baby…

You couldn’t see his expression through the darkness, instead you heard a small chuckle. You held your arms out limply, hoping for a Cove cuddle. He took you in his arms and kissed the top of your head. You continued feebly, in a sleepy sing-song voice.

Y/N: So hurry down the chimney tonight…

Cove chuckled again and stroked your cheek gently.

Cove: I love you so much.

That was the last thing you heard before falling back into a deep slumber. Several hours later, the morning sun woke you. Cove was sleeping peacefully next to you, likely exhausted from playing Santa Claus last night. You turned over and rested your body on his chest. You peppered his face in tiny kisses until he awoke. His eyes eased open, a smile already growing across his face.

Y/N: Merry Christmas, Cove.

Cove: Merry Christmas, Y/N.

Unable to contain your excitement, you leapt out of bed, leaving Cove to fully wake himself up. You ran to your suitcase and recovered the small wrapped gift you got for Cove. You decided to place it beneath the already populated tree. Your jaw dropped seeing how many gifts Cove got you. You placed the gift down carefully and went to check on Cove.

Y/N: Please tell me you’re ready to open gifts.

Cove: I’m ready, but you have to open yours first.

You didn’t argue, you wanted to save your gift to Cove for last anyway. He joined you by the tree and sat cross-legged across from you.

Y/N: Where should I start? Is there any order to this madness?

Cove thought for a moment, then pulled out one of the presents. Shiny reindeer-imprinted paper covered the box. He held it out to you.

Cove: Definitely start with this one.

Impressed that he seemed to remember what was in each box, you took the gift with a smile. You tore open the paper and uncovered the joy within: an adorable stuffed dolphin. Your eyes lit up as you hugged the little guy. You thanked Cove, who immediately bestowed you with another carefully selected box. You giggled and repeated the process. The rest of the boxes contained: a book from your favorite series, tickets to an upcoming play, rare foreign candy, colorful seashells, and a beautiful ocean-themed puzzle.

You felt overwhelmed by the thought that Cove put into each gift. You struggled to find words besides “thank you.” However, Cove wasn’t done. He handed you a final box.

Cove: One more.

You unwrapped this one carefully, a mix of anticipation and nerves stirring within. Inside was a small album titled “Our Life.” You carefully lifted it out of the box and flipped through the pages. Each page was designed to represent a point in your lives together, from childhood all the way to this past summer. There were pictures, funny quotes, tickets from various events, and doodles. Cove even included the piece of paper from your infamous hang-man game.

You were already tearing up before you noticed a smaller box within the original box. With shaking hands and a pounding heart, you opened it.

Inside the box was a simple ring with an engraved wave design. You couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears that erupted from your eyes. Your emotions surged and your mind was spinning. Without speaking, you grabbed the present you put under the tree and offered it to Cove. He was visibly confused, even a bit concerned.

Cove: Y/N, is everything okay?

You spoke through tears.

Y/N: Just open it.

Cove silently complied. His fingers carefully removed the red and white pinstriped paper. He looked at you nervously before looking into the box. His eyes widened and glistened.

Cove: A ring…

You laughed shakily and scooted closer to Cove, still holding your own small box. He looked up at you, tears streaming down his red cheeks.

Y/N: We’re already engaged, but still got rings for each other. And look at how emotional we are about it!

Cove: I thought it would be nice to make it official with a real engagement ring.

You nodded in agreement, pleased that you were both on the same page.

Y/N: Let’s put them on each other.

You exchanged rings with Cove. He held your still shaking hand and carefully slipped the ring onto your finger. You did the same, relieved that the ring was a perfect fit on his finger.

You let out a massive sigh, it felt as if you had been holding your breath for ages. Cove was admiring the ring on his finger, his ocean eyes still glimmering with tears.

Cove: It feels as magical as it did the first time on the poppy hill.

You looked at him adoringly, unable to contain the crashing ocean of love you felt inside.

Y/N: Thank you, Cove. For putting in so much effort for me. All the time. But especially this Christmas. I know holidays aren’t your thing, especially not winter ones…

Rambling nervously, you felt like Cove in that moment. He invited you to sit on his lap with a simple pat. You settled in and waited. He cradled you close and spoke quietly but confidently.

Cove: You are my thing. You’re the best gift I could ask for. You make braving holidays and snow worth it. I can’t imagine how this day could get any better.

Cove was right. The morning was still fresh, and you were already swimming in bliss. You sniffled, feeling lucky to have him and looking forward to living your life with the man you love. Christmas Day would hold a special place in your hearts for the rest of your lives.

[everybodyscupoftea]

going nowhere

college isaac x reader

a snowstorm and a chill day

(warnings: cursing, google docs edited this)

You woke up before Isaac by a few minutes, shifting closer in his arms. The room was cold, and he was warm, hogging most of the blankets pinned between his arm and the bed. His eyebrows furrowed in his sleep, and you reached up to smooth them out gently before tapping his nose.

Scrunching it, Isaac’s eyelids started to flutter, and you waited patiently for his eyes to open and him to wake up. He blinked sleepily at you, “Morning,” he spoke, voice about two octaves deeper.

“Morning, hon,” you brushed a kiss across his cheekbone and he smiled sleepily.

Moving even closer, he shifted a little bit to give you room to get closer. He sighed in contentment, “What did you want to do today?”

“Hmm,” you mused, tapping a finger on his exposed collarbone, “we could go to the mall. Haven’t bought my roommate a Christmas present yet.”

“I need to get something else for Scott,” he broke off to yawn, “so that sounds good to me.”

You hummed, “Okay. We should get up before the mall gets too crowded.”

He groaned dramatically, but let you up, pouting as he did so. Smiling widely, you crossed your arms, staring him down until he got up and walked to the closet to get dressed.

“You’re driving right?” you asked ten minutes later after the two of you were bundled up enough to go outside.

He sighed, “You’re the one used to driving in the snow, but I suppose I can for your sake.” 

You laughed, throwing the apartment door open and immediately froze, staring out the third floor window at the feet of snow that built up overnight. He ran into you from behind, not realizing you’d stopped, and snorted at the view.

“Guess we’re not going to the mall,” you murmured.

“Looks like we’re snowed in.”

A gust of air blew through the building and you shivered, turning to nudge him back inside, “Go go go, I’m freezing.” 

The two of you took your coats off, and you nudged the heat up while Isaac made a pot of coffee. He handed you a warm mug a few minutes later and pulled you toward the couch. Before you joined him sitting, you pouted. 

Isaac sighed, faux annoyed, “Can I help you?”

“I’m cold.”

“Get a blanket,” he suggested, reaching over to pull one out of the basket you kept next to the couch.

“It wouldn’t be enough,” you insisted, definitely bullshitting.

He raised his eyebrows, “What would you like?” 

Grinning, you answered eagerly, “A sweater.”

His smile softened, and he stood up, “Now that I can do.” 

Disappearing into his room, you waited for him to come back, and when he did, he had one of your favorite of his cardigans in his hand. You pulled it on, snuggling into its warmth, and settled down on the couch next to him.

“So, what should we do?”

He hummed, “Would you mind if I caught up on my book?”

“Not at all,” you answered, “I might try one of the ones you suggested if you have any.”

Raising his eyebrows, Isaac huffed, “Sweetheart, do you think I just know off the top of my head which books I’ve recommended?”

Rolling your eyes, you told him, “You don’t have to, I have them all in my notes in my phone.”

Isaac looked genuinely taken aback, and you smiled as he finally gathered his thoughts, “Um, okay. Show me.”

And he did have some of the books so he pulled them out and let you judge by their covers which one you wanted to read first. When you picked, he grabbed his book off the nightstand and followed you back to the couch.

You let him lay down first, following suit when he finally stilled, resting between his legs, leaned back against his chest. It was comfortable, you moving with his breaths, and Isaac reached down with one of his hands to hold yours, fingers linked together. It was harder to flip the pages, but you didn’t want to let go.

The book was good, Isaac was right in his assumption you’d like it. Immediately drawn in, you held it in your right hand, as did he, your left hands linked together, resting on your stomach. He stayed very still, neither of you moving much besides taking a sip of coffee. 

The only exception being when he sat up, bringing you with him, to pull the blanket up over both of your legs. Both of you were facing a window with the blinds open, and every so often you’d look up to see it still snowing outside.

After what felt like minutes but was probably hours, Isaac’s stomach growled, breaking the two of you out of the peaceful silence. He smiled sheepishly, “We haven’t eaten yet.” 

“Do you have leftovers?” you asked, closing your book.

“Yeah.”

“Lunch break.”

You both made plates, taking turns heating them up in the microwave, and he sat down at the table first, waiting for you to join him to eat. It was quiet until he broke it again, “Hey.”

Eyebrows raised, you echoed, “Hey.”

He cleared his throat nervously, “So I’ve been wondering what jobs you’ve been looking into?”

You hummed, “I really liked the hydro class I took. Kind of knew already that I wanted to work in either transportation or water systems, but my transportation class sucked so I’m definitely leaning more toward water systems.”

Isaac nodded, “What would that entail?”

“Designing dams and stuff like that.”

“So you want to live on a coast?” 

With a laugh, you shrugged, “I’ll live wherever they give me a job.”

“Fair.”

“What about you?” you asked, leaning on your elbow, chin resting in your hand.

“I like the idea of being an English professor. I’d need to see if I need a master’s or not.” 

“Are you interested in getting a master?”

He shrugged, cheeks turning a bit red, “I like the idea. My dad always used to tell me I’ll never amount to anything. I know he’s wrong, I mean a bachelor’s degree is huge because he didn’t have one. But the idea of rubbing a master’s in his face is nice.” 

You nodded, taking it in, “I totally understand. I think if I can’t find a job relatively soon after graduating, I’m going to get a master’s myself. It’ll help me not only with a job, but I’ll be able to move up to a senior position one day if the opportunity arises.”

“And I’m sure you will, you’re very good at pretty much everything you try to do,” he praised.

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, everything but English and anything writing related that’s not scientific.”

He shrugged, “And I’m great at those things, so we make a great team. A team that should never split.”

Jaw dropping a little, you stared at him, “Are you proposing to me right now?” 

Stuttering for a few seconds, he eventually managed, “No, but yes.”

“That’s clear,” you responded sarcastically.

“I’m proposing we stay together after undergrad.We go somewhere together, I’m willing to move with you anywhere. We don’t have to get married immediately, but maybe one day, we could.”

You beamed, “I would absolutely love that.”

Isaac perked up, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And for the record,” you added, “if you get into grad school before I find a job, I’d move with you too and find a job there.” 

He was shaking his head before you even finished, “No, your career is more important than any degree.”

You raised your eyebrows, “I want this to be fair.”

“It will be. It absolutely will be. I don’t want you to compromise that for me.”

Touched, you managed, “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Yeah well, I want you to stick around. If that’s what it takes, I have no issue. There are schools everywhere, but there might only be a few places with your dream job. I want to support that.”

Smiling tearfully, you had to stand up and walk over to him, tiling his chin up to meet you in a kiss. He returned it eagerly, and you felt something fall into place. An uncertainty you didn’t even realize you’d been dealing with finally being resolved.

Pulling away, you kept your hand on his chin to look him in the eye and quietly spoke, “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” he answered back, just as quiet.

~

day 17 of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: snowed in

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Disclaimer: No one is crazy about him atm, me included, so this is strictly for my readers and my readers only. I don’t condone his behavior at all -Just let me finish out this fic please. Don’t come for me. I’m only a girl with a google doc whose spent hours upon hours and days on end on this fic

Chapter 11 - 'She's Something' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

The early morning light filtered through the blinds in soft streaks, casting a warm glow over the room. The house was silent, the kind of stillness that only exists just before the world begins to wake. You stirred awake, blinking against the gentle light, and for a moment, you simply watched Trent sleep. His features were relaxed, his breathing steady, his arm lazily draped across the bed where you had been moments before. The sight made your chest ache, but in the sweetest way. He was perfect. Slipping out of bed as quietly as you could, you padded to the kitchen, the cool tiles beneath your feet making you shiver slightly. The space was dimly lit, the morning sun not quite reaching it yet. You moved with purpose but also with care, opening drawers and cabinets softly, grabbing what you needed to make breakfast. The sound of eggs cracking broke the silence, followed by the gentle hiss of butter melting in the pan. You whisked the eggs, your movements rhythmic and calming, the act of cooking grounding you in the moment. The scent of fresh coffee brewing mingled with the faint, lingering traces of Trent’s cologne still on your skin, making you smile. You set the table quietly, plates arranged just so, and folded a napkin absentmindedly. As you reached for the coffee pot, pouring it into two mugs, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could turn, warm arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“Wow,” Trent murmured, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. “I thought I’d get a cuddle this morning, but this…” He rested his chin lightly on your shoulder. “This might be better.” You tilted your head back to look at him, his eyes still half-lidded but shining with warmth. 

“I was hungry,” you teased, laughing softly as his hands tightened slightly around your waist. “Last night was genuinely a work out.” You giggled. 

“Yeah?” he said, his voice soft but laced with amusement. He leaned in, pressing his lips lightly to your temple, his warmth chasing away the slight chill from the morning air. “You look so good in the morning, you know that?”

“I look the same,” you replied, a small laugh escaping as you turned back to the pan, flipping the eggs.

“Nah,” he countered, his voice dropping lower as his fingers brushed lightly against the curve of your hip. “You don’t. You’re just… soft. Sexy but softer,” he added, his tone earnest and just a little teasing. You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. 

“You’re just saying that because I made breakfast and you’re  trying to make sure some’s for you,” you said, though your voice lacked any real conviction. He hummed in response, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck. 

“No,” he whispered, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “I mean it.” For a moment, you just stood there, wrapped in his arms, the warmth of the stove in front of you blending with the heat radiating from him. “But some is for me though, right?” He asked cheekily and you hummed in response just the same as he did before you both fell into a comfortable silence. The quiet intimacy of the moment felt like a gift, something that needed no words or grand gestures to make it feel special. As you moved to plate the eggs, Trent turned you gently, guiding you to face him. 

“Leave it,” he said softly, taking the spatula from your hand and placing it on the counter. “Breakfast can wait a minute. C’mere, baby.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that made the room seem even quieter, the world beyond it fading entirely. When he pulled back, his thumb brushed lightly over your cheek as if he couldn’t help but touch you.

“You really think I look good in the morning?” you asked shyly, your voice barely above a whisper. He smiled, his gaze locked on yours, full of something deeper than just affection. 

“I think you look perfect,” he said simply, his sincerity wrapping around you like a second set of arms. And as the morning light poured in, soft and golden, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was what happiness felt like—quiet, warm, and impossibly sweet. 

The morning sunlight continued to spill softly through the windows as Trent sat at the kitchen table, quietly devouring the breakfast you’d made. You stood nearby, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve of his shirt you had on, feeling a little shy as you tried to muster up the courage to ask him something. It felt strange—awkward, even—to invite him into something so meaningless yet so personal to you. But after the night you’d shared and the ease that had returned between you, it felt like the right thing to do.

“Hey baby…” You paused. “Would you maybe… Like…“ You took another deep breath in an attempt to try to sound more sure of yourself. “Do you want to go for a drive with me?” You finally asked, your voice hesitant. Trent paused mid-bite, looking up at you with a slight tilt of his head, encouraging you to keep going. “You’re off, and I usually like to go to Formby.” You stumbled over the words, feeling ridiculous as they tumbled out of your mouth. Trent set his fork down, his warm gaze settling on you. 

“Yeah? What do you do there?” he asked, curious and gentle, his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. You felt your cheeks warm as you struggled to explain. 

“I don’t know… I just go. It’s grounding. It helps me reset, I guess,” you admitted, unsure if he’d understand. But he didn’t push for more.

“I’ll go regardless, pretty girl,” he said with a playful smirk, “just was curious.” You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, his easy going nature putting you at ease. Slowly, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder. He was warm, solid, and smelled faintly of the cologne he’d sprayed on after his shower. Trent leaned back into your embrace, his hand resting on your arm as he finished chewing. “You’re good,” he murmured reassuring you, his voice soft. “Okay, if I finish breaky first?” You hummed in agreement, the sound of his voice and the comfort of his presence washing over you. Then, to your surprise, Trent turned slightly in his chair, gently tugging at you. Before you knew it, you were perched on his lap, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. “Perfect. Now I can eat and hold you,” he teased, grinning as he grabbed his fork again. You laughed, tucking your head into the crook of his neck

 “Multitasking at its finest,” you joked back, though your heart was swelling with how easy and affectionate he was with you. For a moment, you stayed like that—wrapped up in each other, the world outside the house feeling like it didn’t exist. You’d never imagined that someone like Trent, someone so chaotic yet grounding, could fit so seamlessly into your quiet moments like this.

“Alright,” he said after a final bite, placing his fork down with a soft clink. He kissed the side of your head, his lips lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Let’s get to Formby, yeah?” You smiled against his shoulder, nodding. 

As you stood in Trent’s room, rifling through the bits of clothing he’d left scattered on the bed, you came to a realization—you didn’t have anything to put on. A Yves Saint Laurent mini dress was hardly something that you wanted to sit on a cold north western shoreline in. You sighed, holding up one of Trent’s jumpers, oversized and impossibly soft, the faint scent of him clinging to the fabric.you shook your head trying to get away from your nagging thoughts. 

“If I wear this, will I look as cool as you?” you teased, turning to face him with a playful smile. Trent glanced up from his phone, his brow raising as he looked you over. 

“Nah… probably not,” he replied with a sly grin, leaning back against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Feigning a look of hurt, you clutched the jumper to your chest.

“Wow,” you said, your voice dripping with mock offense. He chuckled and pushed off the frame, walking over to you. 

“I’m kidding. You’re much cooler, baby,” he admitted, his grin softening as he watched you pull the jumper over your head. You tugged it into place, the hem hitting your thighs as the sleeves engulfed your hands.

“I like this though,” you murmured, adjusting the neckline and pulling it close to your skin. It was comfortable, yes, but it was more than that. It felt like him, and you didn’t want to take it off. “Can I wear it…just to the beach?” You asked. Trent hummed as his gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression shifting into something softer. 

“Course. It suits you,” he said quietly. You smiled at his words but couldn’t ignore the thought that gnawed at the back of your mind. You wanted to keep it, to have this piece of him to carry with you. But it wasn’t like with anyone else—this wasn’t some casual boy whose clothes you could wear home without question. If you showed up at your house in Trent’s jumper, Jack would undoubtedly have something to say. Trent must’ve seen the flicker of hesitation in your eyes because he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently tug at the oversized sleeve. “I know, pretty girl. We’ll figure it out,” he offered simply. You wanted to ask ‘how?’ so badly, to use this one small thing to help define and clarify your entire relationship. The weight of reality had settled over you like a shadow, the stark reminder of everything complicated about the two of you neatly tucked between moments when it felt like things might finally be working.

“Okay,” you whispered softly, your fingers curling around the hem. You looked up at him, his dark eyes holding yours in a way that made your chest ache. Slowly, you nodded.  As you smoothed down the fabric, Trent reached out and tilted your chin up gently with his fingers. 

“Okay” he murmured, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “day by day. Yeah?” He knew that this was more than just some silly jumper. He understood how much this hurt but that’s all you could do, go day by day. To rush it wasn’t smart. It didn’t make sense. You rolled your eyes, your heart lighter despite the weight of everything else. 

“Obviously,” you teased, your voice softer than before. And with that, you grabbed your bag, ready to leave pulling the sleeves over your hands feeling like it was something far more significant than just a piece of clothing. Something that tethered you to him, even as the rest of the world threatened to pull you apart.

The beach stretched out in front of you, a vast expanse of cold, pale sand meeting the endless blue-grey of the sea. The wind was brisk but refreshing, carrying the tang of saltwater and the soft cries of distant gulls. You and Trent sat on a low sand dune, the world around you quiet save for the rhythmic crash of waves breaking against the shore. You pulled his jumper over your hands again and dug your barefeet into the sand. Trent shifted beside you, his hands buried in his pockets for warmth. He glanced at you and opened his mouth…

“So, what do—” He began to speak. You stopped him gently. 

“T, it’s okay.” your voice was soft but certain. He furrowed his brow, confused for a moment, and you turned to look at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I know you say I yap during movies,” you teased lightly, “but you yap during moments.” You cooed gently. His mouth curved into a sheepish grin, your voice was quieter now, almost carried away by the wind. “It’s okay to just sit here and breathe.” You gestured to the horizon with a tilt of your head. “Be in the air, take in the sights, really listen to the sounds. Just… reset, you know?” Trent didn’t respond right away. He turned his attention back to the waves, the tension in his shoulders easing as he absorbed your words but you felt like you needed to explain yourself. “I just need to sit sometimes,” you added, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them close. Your gaze swept over the sea, the endless ebb and flow grounding you in a way nothing else could. You’d come to the seaside once a month at least since your mum passed. Your dad used to bring you. You wouldn’t talk much but it just gave you two the space you so desperately needed. But even after he stopped going, you kept coming. It felt like home, a place you needed when your house at the time felt so empty.  Trent shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. He didn’t speak, and for once, neither did you. The silence wasn’t empty; it was full—full of the crash of the waves, the rustling of the grass behind you, and the occasional whistle of the wind. You tilted your head to glance at him, and his profile was soft against the muted light of the overcast sky. His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something, but then he stopped himself. Instead, he leaned back on his hands, letting his eyes drift back to the horizon.

“Reset,” he echoed quietly, almost to himself. You smiled to yourself, turning back to face the waves, letting the cold air bite at your cheeks as the two of you simply sat there. The weight of the world felt lighter, here on the sand dunes, just the two of you, sharing a moment without needing to fill it with anything more than what it already was. The quiet enveloped you again, the wind whistling softly through the dunes, but soon Trent’s question broke the stillness. “Baby… what did your mum want you to tell me?” he asked gently, his voice careful but steady, his eyes fixed on you. Your breath caught in your chest, and you felt your heart skip. He felt it last night, you felt it last night, those three words looming. That lingering feeling that stemmed from the book you tried to give him when you attempted to end it all. Of course, he’d ask. It was ominous in a way. Your mum urging you to ‘tell Trent.’ But last night, your first date, you both could feel the words rising in your throats, they were desperate to come out. The love was so obviously there and sleep hadn’t cleared any of those feelings away. Trent had a way of seeing through you, even when you tried to bury things deep. The truth lingered just behind your lips, but now didn’t feel like the moment to release it.

“Erm…” you stalled, looking down at the grains of sand shifting beneath your hands as you thought. “I think she just wanted me to be brave with you,” you finally managed, your voice soft and unsteady. “I don’t think it was anything too specific.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn't the truth, and you both knew it. You loved Trent for years and long before this happened even your mum could see that. Trent just couldn’t be the one to cross that line. He couldn’t do it to Jack, he couldn’t put you in that position, he needed you to do it, needed to hear you say it. The look in his eyes told you he could see right through the veil of your words, but he didn’t press. Instead, he hummed softly, acknowledging the lie but choosing to let it rest for now.

“I remember once,” you began, your voice somehow even quieter now, as if sharing a memory you rarely spoke about, “I told my mum about how nice you were to me one afternoon. We were teenagers, and you bought me a hot chocolate while at a christmas market.” You smiled faintly at the memory, as Trent’s thumb brushed over your arm absently. “She asked me if I told you that. How much it meant.” You cooed.

“Did you?” He turned to look at you, curious. You shook your head with a small, rueful laugh. 

“No. When I said I hadn’t, she told me, ‘Everyone likes to know they’re… appreciated.’ I still think about that now.” You could hear your mum’s voice as you spoke her words. She didn’t say ‘appreciated’ though, she had said ‘loved’ but you couldn’t get that word out. His lips curved into a soft smile as you glanced at him. “I wish I’d taken her advice then,” you admitted, the weight of your words carrying something more. “I wish I told her more. I wish I told you more.” You sighed. You lowered your eyes, the guilt of unsaid things knotting in your chest. 

“Baby…”He exhaled as his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your temple. The warmth of his lips against your skin made your eyes sting with tears. “It’s okay,” he murmured against your hair, his voice barely above a whisper. “I knew… and she definitely knew.” The words settled in your heart, bittersweet but comforting. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder as the waves crashed in the distance. Neither of you spoke again for a while, but his arm stayed firmly around you, a silent promise that in this moment, you weren’t alone.

The drive away from the beach was quiet, but your mind was anything but. The ache in your chest was sharp and persistent, the kind that comes from confusion and longing tangled together. You loved Trent—you knew you loved him. So why couldn’t you just say it? Unfortunately, you knew why. You were terrified he didn’t feel the same. Terrified that once the words were out, the delicate balance you’d built together would crumble.

As the car came to a stop in his driveway, you peeled off the jumper you’d borrowed, the familiar fabric suddenly feeling too heavy on your skin. It hurt—giving it back hurt—like you were handing over a piece of him that you weren’t sure you’d get to keep. Trent wasn’t sure what to say because there was nothing to say to fix this… there were only things he could do to fix it. Trent turned to you, his eyes soft but filled with unspoken things. He didn’t take the jumper from you immediately, instead reaching out to pull you toward him, his hand firm on your hip. The motion was gentle but insistent, and before you could think, his forehead was pressed to yours.

“I’m gonna make us work, okay?” he said, his voice low and steady, a conviction behind his words that sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to do anything else. A sniffle escaped, and he caught it, brushing a thumb across your cheek before pulling you into him for a brief, grounding hug. Believing him was all you could do because it was all you wanted. You’d dreamed of this for years, and now it was here, fragile and imperfect, but here. When the car service pulled into the driveway, your heart sank further. This wasn’t how you imagined the evening ending. Trent wanted to bring you home, you could see it in the way his eyes flickered with frustration. But you had told him it was fine, and it was. Jack would be at your place, and it just wasn’t the time—not yet. He didn’t argue, though you could feel the tension radiating off him as he walked you to the car. Before you slid inside, he kissed you in the driveway. It wasn’t a quick, casual goodbye; it was all-consuming. The kind of kiss that stole your breath, that made you feel like the ground beneath you didn’t exist. You clung to him for a moment, wishing the car would disappear, wishing you could just stay wrapped in him and let everything else fade away. But eventually, you pulled back, his hands reluctantly dropping to his sides. As you slid into the back seat of the car, the cool leather of the seats pressed against your bare thighs, a harsh reminder of reality. Through the window, you caught one last look at him—standing there, hands in his pockets, watching as the car pulled away. He looked as reluctant to let you go as you felt. The ache in your chest deepened, but somewhere in the back of your mind, his words echoed. And you had to hold onto that because it was the only thing keeping the ache from completely taking over.

You walked into the kitchen after a shower late in the day, the faint hum of voices reaching your ears as you approached. Jack was just ending a phone call, his tone sounded curt.

“Alright, mate. Talk later,” he said and hung up. Across the room, Noah sat at the island, casually picking at a plate of food, his posture relaxed as though he’d been there for a while. Jack turned to Noah with a furrowed brow, a look of mild irritation shadowing his face. “Have you heard anything from Trentski lately?” he asked, leaning against the counter with crossed arms.

“Not too much. Why?” Noah shrugged, chewing slowly, his mouth full mumbling his words together.

“He’s been off with me,” Jack said, his voice edged with frustration. “Even just now on the phone, he sounded so… standoffish. He’s been like this for a while now. I don’t know what his problem is.” You froze mid-step, pretending to fidget with something on the counter as you silently listened. Your pulse quickened, and you avoided meeting their eyes, praying your face wouldn’t betray you. Noah tilted his head thoughtfully. 

“Yeah, he has been a bit off,” he said, as if just realizing it himself. “But, you know Trent. The only time he ever really retreats like this is when he’s being pissy about something. He’s not an open book.” Noah smirked looking for a joke. But Jack only sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Right? But, bro, it feels targeted at me… like if I’ve done something lad, just say it. But no, he has to act all cryptic and moody. What’s his deal?” Jack asked openly, getting a bit frustrated with Trent’s growing resistance towards him. Where did his best friend go? Noah hesitated, a small smirk pulling at his lips before he continued.

 “Well… I mean, I did hear him talking with someone the other night,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. Jack perked up. 

“What do you mean? Like on the phone?” He asked earnestly.

“Yeah, mate,” Noah replied, shaking his head in disbelief recalling the scene. “It was when we were all over at my place for that movie night. He stepped into the kitchen and I walked in on him on the phone. He was talking to a girl—but it was clearly more than some link to him.” Your stomach dropped, the knot of anxiety in your chest tightening. You wondered if this was the call with you. You assumed it was unless he had called someone after for reprieve. You’d hoped not, so you listened carefully. You kept your movements deliberate and slow, opening a cupboard and pretending to inspect its contents, though you were barely processing what was in front of you.

“A girl?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. Noah nodded. 

“Bro….” he cautioned him as if to prepare Jack for how Trent was acting on this call. “Yeah, mate. And he sounded different, too—like… nervous. Almost sweet, if you can believe it. I didn’t think much of it, he was being sus, wouldn’t let me in but now? I dunno, I think Trent’s in deep that’s why he’s not around.” He explained.

“In deep?” Jack repeated, laughing. “Come on, mate. It’s Trent. The guy doesn’t do deep.” Noah laughed along with him.

“That’s what I thought so it didn’t track at first. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it - where did he find a bird he’s like this with. But I’m serious. I think he’s caught feelings. Jack… mate, I mean it, from what I witnessed he might even have proper feelings for this girl. He was a mess.” Noah laughed reminiscing on the sheer joy he felt watching ever composed Trent fumble over his words on the phone. But then the two of them burst out laughing, the idea seemingly too absurd for them to fathom. 

“Nah, not Trenty. Not a chance.” Jack shook his head, still chuckling. “We would've met the girl,” he added. But their laughter barely registered as your heart sank. Their words lingered, each one hitting you like a stone sinking deeper into the pit of your stomach. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the counter. You glanced over your shoulder just enough to catch Jack shaking his head again. “He’d tell me if it was serious,” he said, his voice confident. “Wouldn’t he?” Noah shrugged noncommittally, and Jack turned his attention back to whatever was in front of him. You couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on your chest, the mix of emotions swirling inside you—fear, guilt, and a growing sense of hopelessness. The way they dismissed the idea of Trent being in love felt like a slap to the face, a cruel reminder of how precarious everything had been and yet simultaneously how meaningless. Would this ultimately just end up being a secret you’d have to take to the grave, the few months you got with your brother’s best friend. It all made you so angry. You wanted to scream, to storm out of the kitchen, to do something, anything, but instead, you stayed frozen in place, clinging to the façade that nothing was wrong. You reached up to grab a glass from the cabinet, trying to keep your movements calm and steady despite the weight of their conversation. Jack, leaning against the island, folded his arms as he pressed further. “Was it that girl Jess?” he asked, his tone sharp. “You know, Meg’s friend, the last one he was hooking up with? She was around his for a bit, wasn’t she?” The mention of another name—Jess—had your stomach twisting in knots, the glass slipping from your fingers. It shattered against the tile floor, the loud crash jolting all three of you. “Jesus, Y/N!” Jack whipped around, his eyes wide with alarm. “You good?” He asked with genuine concern looking at the shards scattered around your feet. A visual representation of your life at the minute, he could never understand.

“Sorry!” you stammered, kneeling quickly to pick up the pieces, your hands shaking. “I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry, sorry I’ll clean it up.” You babbled nervously as your hands shook. Jack rolled his eyes, muttering something about you being careless, while Noah leaned over slightly, glancing down at you. He tried to move the conversation forward, his voice lighthearted as if to brush past your blunder. Nothing too deep, people drop things.

“Nah, it wasn’t Jess,” Noah said, laughing a little as he kept picking at his food. “This girl has him fucked up, mate. Like, completely different vibe.” He explained.

“What do you mean?” Jack’s interest was piqued. 

“I mean,” Noah began, leaning back in his chair, “I heard him that night. He wasn’t just trying to get her to come over. He was begging for her to stay. He sounded desperate, almost scared she wouldn’t. I’m telling you mate. He was a mess.” Noah further explained to Jack.  You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the words sank in. The shards of glass in your hand suddenly felt sharper, more dangerous. Noah continued, oblivious to the effect his words were having on you. “Apparently, this is the girl, mate. He told me, like, the one. Dream girl status. He’s in love with her.” Noah emphasized word. The idea of love sent a shockwave through you. 

“Fuck.” You whimpered carelessly as your hand slipped against a jagged edge of glass, and you winced as a sharp sting sliced through your skin.

“Shit, Y/N!” Noah exclaimed, leaning forward. “You alright?” You nodded quickly, shaking your head as if to clear the haze in your mind.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice unsteady. “Just—just a little cut. I’ll clean it up.”

“You’re bleeding everywhere,” Jack said, grabbing a tea towel and tossing it in your direction quickly, nervous you might bleed out by the time he got over to you. “Be careful, for fuck’s sake. You promise you’re okay?” He asked seriously, moving towards you now faster from the other side of the room. Noah still looked concerned, but you waved them both off, standing up and wrapping your finger in the towel. 

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, grabbing the broom with your uninjured hand. “I’ve got it.” You waved Jack off so he gave you the space. But your mind wasn’t on the mess. It was on Noah’s words. Trent was in love? The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you dizzy and disoriented. Could it really be you he was talking about? Noah knew Trent like the back of his hand… he’d know how Trent really felt about someone. Was this the call with you… or maybe worse, was this a call with someone else—someone like Jess, someone who wasn’t tangled up in a web of secrets and guilt? You stole a glance at Jack, who was already back distracted by his phone, completely unaware of the storm raging inside you. Noah, meanwhile, had gone back to his food, the conversation now drifting into casual banter. But you couldn’t focus. All you could think about was Trent. Was this real? Could he really feel that way about you? And if he did… what did it mean for everything else? For Jack? For you? You swallowed hard, the cut on your finger forgotten as the weight of it all settled on your chest.

The boy Devon, the Manchester United player, Josh’s friend, that you spotted at dinner wasted no time, spinning the scene he’d witnessed like a web of intrigue. Seeing you and Trent at dinner together had been unexpected, even puzzling. On its own, it might’ve been easily dismissed—after all, you and Trent had history, you knew each other through Jack and people could convince themselves it was merely friendly. But there was something about the way Trent looked at you that night, a softness, a protectiveness that the boy hadn’t missed. It planted a seed, one that began to grow in the back of his mind and one he was ready to share with your ex. When saw Josh next, he was ready for his opportunity to stir the pot

“You’ll never guess who I saw the other night,” Devon said, leaning against a locker with a smirk. “Mate… Y/N L/N and Trent Alexander-Arnold. At dinner.” Josh’s head whipped around at the mention of your name. 

“What?” he asked sharply, his voice betraying a flicker of interest despite himself.

“At dinner,” Devon repeated, dragging it out for effect. “Looked cozy too. Candlelit table, just the two of them.” Josh frowned, his jaw tightening. 

“C’mon. Bro, I know I said shit about her before but they’re friends. She’s Jack’s sister. That’s been her thing for years. He’s never gone for it.” Josh explained having a hard time wrapping his head around it. He knew you wanted Trent, he could even see the way Trent wanted you but it actually happening… and not behind closed doors? Out in public? It seemed so farfetched.

“Maybe,” Devon said with a shrug, though his smirk didn’t waver. “But you know, sometimes even the nice ones… snap. He didn’t look like a ‘just friends’ kind of guy to me. Looked like he finally realized what was right in front of him.” He smugly told Josh. Josh tried to laugh it off, but there was an edge to it, sharp and bitter. 

“Whatever, mate. She’s not my problem anymore.” He muttered.

“Sure,” Devon replied smoothly, though he didn’t believe it for a second. He could see the flicker of annoyance in Josh’s eyes, the remnants of a claim Josh still felt over you, no matter how fractured things had been between you. “So you wouldn’t believe a photo of them then?” Devon smirked flashing him the photo he took on his screen. Josh jumped to grab the phone, shocked. He inspected the photo fuming. Devon snatched his phone back out of his hands “Looks pretty fucking friendly to me, mate.” He smugly laughed as he turned to leave the room. But Josh couldn’t leave it there, he had seen it, he needed more information, he needed more… ammunition. As Devon walked away, his words echoed in Josh’s mind. Trent and Y/N? At dinner? It was almost laughable, except it wasn’t. Josh had known you long enough to know how deep your feelings for Trent ran, even when you tried to hide it. And if Trent had finally reciprocated? He hated the thought, he hated the photo, he hated that Trent’s waiting game won out. It made him sick. He pushed you to Trent and then as a lump formed in his throat, his anger towards you shoved it down. He hated you for choosing Trent. Cynicism crept in, laced with exasperation and a thirst for vengeance. He remembered the sting of your split, the way things ended and why, and how easily you seemed to fall into the waiting arms of Trent—at least in his eyes. And now, you two were parading around together? It wasn’t about love or loss anymore. It was about pride, about the idea of someone like Trent waltzing into his old territory without so much as a second thought. Josh began to piece together a plan. If Trent thought he could take you out of Josh’s life and into his unnoticed, he was wrong. And if you thought this could stay secret, you were wrong too. A wicked grin spread across Josh’s face as he envisioned the chaos it might cause when Jack found out. How much it would hurt you, hurt Trent. He didn’t care if he and Devon were wrong, if it was just ‘friendly.’ The perception alone would be enough. Josh grabbed his phone, thumbing through his contacts until he landed on Jack’s name. He didn’t press call—not yet. He needed to get the photo first and timing was everything, and he intended to make sure this landed perfectly.  After all, what better way to even the score than to drop a bombshell like this?

The gossip about Trent seeing someone began to brew more and more each day. Evidently, seeping beyond just Jack and Noah but into other friend groups.  You were out at the shops just stopping to pick up a few things when you spotted Megan and Jess as you rounded the corner of the produce aisle, their voices reaching you before their faces did. Megan was pleasant, flashing you a smile when she saw you, but Jess’s expression was harder to read. Her eyes lingered on you, sharp and curious, as if she was sizing you up.

“Y/N!” Megan greeted, her tone light and cheerful. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Haven’t seen you in a minute, probably since the other week at the birthday.” You offered a polite smile, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Yeah, course. Hi. I’m just picking up a few things.” You cooed softly. The conversation started innocently enough. Megan talked about Jack, about her plans for the weekend, and you nodded along, trying to keep your responses short. But then, the conversation shifted.

“So,” Megan said casually, “we’ve heard rumblings that Trent’s seeing someone.” Her words hit you like a freight train. A part of you was instinctively annoyed at your brother just imagining him complaining to Megan about Trent and relaying Noah’s information spilled in the kitchen. You didn’t know if that was who told her but you could imagine. Your grip on your bag tightened, but you forced your face to remain neutral. 

“Yeah? I wouldn’t know,” you said quickly, hoping the lie sounded believable.

“Hmm,” Jess hummed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. Her skepticism was evident, and you could feel her eyes burning into you. She didn’t believe you for a second. Megan tilted her head, clearly confused by your answer. 

“I mean, you two are close though, aren’t you? You’re always with the boys! I feel like you’d hear or I’d think he’d tell you even.” She smiled sincerely. If Megan was being honest she knew you had a crush on Trent, it was glaringly obvious but she wasn’t going to hurt you and call you out on it. Besides, her friend Jess liked him, she was just looking for intel. You hesitated, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“I guess… I mean, if he wasn’t, I’m sure he’d reach out or something. I don’t really know what’s going on with him right now.” You babbled awkwardly. You didn’t know what to say really. But what you did say…was a rookie mistake. You realized it the moment the words left your mouth. Jess’s smirk widened, and Megan’s eyebrows shot up.

“So he is seeing someone,” Megan said slowly, her confusion deepening. “Because he definitely hasn’t reached out to Jess.” She glanced at her friend, then back at you, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Megan knew you liked Trent but from the lens of a little sister liking her older brother’s friend- nothing more. She wasn’t being cynical or mean she was just looking for information. And right now she was with Jess, who hadn’t shut up about Trent falling off the grid for months. Your cheeks burned, and you felt your chest tighten. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, you fumbled with your shopping bags, pretending they were suddenly too heavy to manage.

“Erm, I really don’t know,” you said, your voice shaky. “Sorry, I’ve got to go—running late.” Without waiting for a response, you darted away, your heart pounding as you put as much distance between yourself and them as possible. You could feel their eyes on you as you turned the corner, and you didn’t dare look back. The encounter left you rattled. You gripped your bags tightly, replaying the exchange in your head as you hurried down the street, your heart pounding. Megan’s raised eyebrows, Jess’s sharp, knowing glances—it all felt like a storm you weren’t prepared for. Their words echoed in your mind. ‘So he’s seeing someone.’ They didn’t know it was you, but the realization and possibility that they were piecing it together made your stomach churn. Jess’s skepticism had been palpable, her eyes narrowing like she already suspected the truth but was waiting for you to slip. You sighed as you reached your car, fumbling with the keys. Why had you even tried to lie? It wasn’t like you were good at it, and the awkward babbling only made things worse. But what were you supposed to do? Confirm it? Out yourself? Out Trent? That wasn’t an option either. But why did he want it secret? You guessed it was good Jess hadn’t heard from him. But how long had it been? Was there in overlap? As you sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls were closing in. The more the gossip spread, the harder it would be to keep your relationship under wraps. The thought of Jack finding out this way—through whispers and rumors—made you feel sick.

You thought about texting Trent, maybe to warn him or just to vent, but even that felt risky. Instead, you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. This was the price of keeping things a secret, wasn’t it? The constant worry, the careful balancing act, the fear that one slip could send it all crashing down. And yet, despite it all, you knew you couldn’t stay away from him. Trent was worth it. At least, you hoped he was. You hoped he thought the same about you, that he wouldn’t falter under the pressure building around you both. As you pulled out of the parking lot, you tried to shake off the anxiety, telling yourself it would all blow over. But deep down, you knew this was only the beginning. The gossip wasn’t going to stop, and neither, it seemed, was the tension.

It felt surreal, wearing Trent’s jersey to a home game at Anfield. He’d given it to you weeks ago, but when you finally were all going to a match, he officially asked you to wear it tonight, it felt different—more deliberate, more intimate. The weight of it wasn’t just fabric; it was a claim, a silent declaration that you were his. The box was buzzing with energy as you sat with Jack, Noah, Layla, Megan, Trent’s family, and more of their friends, all of them in good spirits after the game started. But the teasing was relentless, especially from Noah.

“Big statement, Y/N,” he quipped, eyeing the bolded double barreled surname and number on your back. Everyone’s eyes flickered towards you as you took off your coat. You rolled your eyes. 

“Wait… When did you get the new kit? What the fuck… I wanted one.” Jack snapped annoyed. But then Megan spoke over him. She leaned over squeezing your leg kindly. 

“Don’t let the cameras catch that. You’ll start rumors.” Megan laughed as Noah chuckled, shaking his head. You forced a laugh, shrugging off their remarks, but your cheeks burned under their scrutiny. You turned to continue your conversation with Layla praying they’d drop the whole thing. They had no idea what the jersey truly meant, and part of you relished that secrecy, even as you squirmed under their playful jabs. 

The game flew by in a blur of cheering, tension, and stolen glances at the man on the pitch. Trent looked up toward the box once or twice, and though his focus remained on the match, you could feel his presence even from afar. It wasn’t just a jersey; it was a tether, a connection that made your chest swell with pride every time his name echoed through the stadium.When the final whistle blew and the crowd erupted but then a bit after that… your phone buzzed quietly in your lap.

'Meet me outside the box. I need to see you properly in that kit, baby.'

Your heart skipped, and you swallowed down a smile. Glancing around, you tried to look nonchalant as you slipped your phone into your pocket and stood.

“I’ll be right back,” you said casually, already heading toward the door. “Bathroom or something.” Jack barely acknowledged you, too wrapped up in conversation with Megan and their friends. Layla smirked as you stepped out of the box and into the quieter halls, your footsteps quickening as you made your way to the exit. The moment you saw him coming down the corridor, your heart skipped. He looked effortlessly striking in his tracksuit, exhaustion etched across his features, but the instant his eyes landed on you, a flash of pure happiness lit up his face. Before you could say a word, he closed the distance, pulling you into his arms in a tight, possessive embrace. His warmth surrounded you, and you buried your face into the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of him. 

"You played so well," you murmured, your words muffled by his skin as you pressed soft kisses to his neck.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice low and filled with something deeper. His hands came up to gently cup your face, tilting it so your eyes met.

"Yeah," you confirmed with a shy smile. "Were you trying to impress someone?" you teased, watching as his lips curved into a smirk.

"Maybe," he said, his thumb brushing along your cheek. "Depends. Did I?" He asked. You giggled, nodding as your arms looped around his waist. His hands slid down your sides, firm and deliberate, until they rested on your hips. He tugged you closer, the heat of his body sending a rush of warmth through you. "You look so good tonight," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. His eyes dropped to the jersey you wore-his jersey—and his fingers toyed with the hem. "Fuck me, I like you in this. But I wish I wasn't absolutely knackered, 'cause all I can think about is taking it off you." A teasing grin tugged at your lips as you slipped your hands around his waist, finding the drawstrings of his joggers. 

"I can take care of you tonight, don’t worry, baby," you whispered, your fingers grazing his skin beneath the fabric. "I could even take this off for you." His breath hitched, and he hummed appreciatively, leaning down to press his lips to your neck. His kisses were lazy, languid, and filled with an unspoken promise. He bit down gently, making you gasp, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"Keep talking like that, and we’re gonna leave right now," he murmured against your skin, his hands slipping under the hem of the jersey to brush against your bare back. You laughed softly, reluctantly pulling back. 

"We should go back inside before they come looking for us." you smiled sympathetically at him. He groaned, his forehead resting against yours.

"You're lucky I'm too tired otherwise you’d be halfway to my bed right now" he teased, but his hands lingered on your hips as you pulled away. 

“I’ll be in your bed in a bit, okay?” You smirked with a cheeky grin. He hummed in response as you turned, his eyes watching your every move like you were the only thing in the world he needed. As you both made your way back to the suite, you couldn't help but feel the imprint of his touch, every whisper of his affection lingering on your skin.

After the match, the usual buzz of a big win had everyone making loose plans to head out, but Trent’s firm 'nah' shifted the momentum. Slowly, the group began to disband, everyone falling back into their own routines. You lingered in the suite as people trickled out, catching Trent’s eye. When you leaned in to hug him goodbye, you buried your face into his neck, the familiar warmth and scent of him grounding you. 

“Still want me to come over, or are you too tired?” You asked softly, whispering into his ear. He hummed against your hair, his voice low and barely audible. 

“Mmhmm please.” The moment stretched just a little too long, just a little too close, and when you finally pulled back, it was enough for Noah to pipe up.

“Ermmm… that was fucking weird, bro. Let go of her,” he laughed, his voice breaking the intimate bubble you’d created with Trent. You tried to play it cool, smoothing your expression. 

“What? A cuddle?” you said, feigning innocence.

“Yeah,” he laughed with Noah. “Y/N, are you drunk?” Jack asked you jokingly citing the only time you and Trent were that affectionate was at parties after tequila shots and lowered inhibitions. He leaned against Megan with a raised brow. “Why are you throwing yourself at him like that?” He asked a bit more earnestly and the tension sharpened, the air suddenly heavy. You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks, but before you could scramble for a response, Layla swooped in.

“Jesus, just kiss already,” she teased, swatting playfully at Trent with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Her comment hit like a match to dry kindling. The room erupted in laughter, the tension instantly diffused. You shot her a grateful smile as she grinned back knowingly. “Coming to stay with me tonight,” Layla said, still half-laughing but with a subtle edge of sincerity, offering the perfect cover. “We’ll have a girls’ night. Do a face mask or whatever.” Trent smirked but said nothing, letting Layla’s quick wit take the spotlight. The group moved on, their teasing fading as they returned to casual chatter. The room felt lighter again, and you knew you owed Layla for smoothing over what could’ve been a minefield. As everyone packed up and started heading out, Trent caught your eye again, a quiet promise lingering between you both.

The drive home was quiet at first, the soft hum of the radio filling the silence between you and Layla. But you could feel her glances, her curiosity practically brimming over.

“So… what’s going on with you and Trent? Post-date, I mean.” She finally asked. You sighed, resting your head against the window. 

“It was meant to be good,” you began, your voice low, “but it feels just like before, especially tonight. Just hidden. I thought we were ready to move forward, you know?” Layla frowned, her tone gentle but probing. 

“So what’s stopping you?” You hesitated, the words heavy on your tongue. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Lay, what if I don’t want it? Not like this. Sometimes… sometimes I feel like I’m the one pulling him into the shadows, like we’re both doing this to each other. Hiding.  Like he’s subtle but I’m… hiding. And now, with Josh’s friend Devon… seeing us at dinner—God, I’m terrified.” Her face softened as she glanced at you, one hand briefly leaving the wheel to give your knee a reassuring squeeze.

 “It’ll be okay,” she said gently. “It’s just going to take time, yeah? You and Trent have always had this… thing. You guys have communicated so long with no words, going off glances but now… things have to change. You’ll figure it out.” You nodded, but her words only soothed the surface. The knots in your stomach refused to untangle. By the time you arrived at Trent’s house, the air between you and him felt thick. Not with anger—no, it wasn’t that—but with emotion. Too much, all at once.

The tension wasn’t hostile, but it was heavy. You both cared so deeply for one another, but the weight of it was beginning to show, even behind closed doors where no one else could see. When you crawled into bed with him that night, there was no talk of passion or promises. No desperate moves to bridge the gap between your feelings and your fears. Instead, you simply held each other. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he tucked his chin over your head. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur. You didn’t respond, but you didn’t need to. You nestled into him, letting his warmth soothe the ache in your chest. Everything about that moment should have been perfect. The way his heartbeat steadied your breathing, the way his hands absentmindedly rubbed circles into your back. And yet, nothing was. You fell asleep tangled together, but the ache of what wasn’t said lingered.

Noah was throwing a party. He had tossed you and Layla the usual invites you’d come to expect to receive. The music pulsed through his house, spilling out onto the lawn as you and Layla stepped inside. The scene was much bigger than you anticipated—people were crammed into every corner, the laughter and chatter nearly deafening. Layla raised a skeptical brow as you glanced at each other. You shrugged. Noah’s usual ‘small gathering’ had clearly spiraled into something else.

“Aye, you alright?” Trent’s voice cut through the crowd. He spotted you almost immediately, a grin spreading across his face. You’d been texting all day, but nothing substantial had changed between you. The limbo of your relationship was still palpable, and yet, seeing him now, your heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah, all good,” you replied sweetly with a small smile, though you couldn’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Layla folded her arms, glancing around at the sheer number of people. 

“Didn’t know the whole squad would be here,” she muttered, clearly unimpressed. Trent gave her a cheeky hug, a quick and friendly gesture, before turning his attention fully to you. His arms wrapped around you in a much tighter, longer embrace, swaying slightly with a hum as he leaned into you. His scent—faint cologne mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol—was intoxicating.

“Missed you, baby,” you whispered in his ear, your teeth pulling on his earlobe, your words soft, just for him. Before you could step back, he tightened his grip, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips brushed against your ear, and he murmured something low, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“Look so sexy. Gonna let me fuck you in the toilet again, yeah?” He cheekily whispered. It was more of a tease then an actual ask but then again, maybe it wasn’t. Your eyes widened briefly at his words, but you nodded, the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile. Layla tugged at the back of your top, signaling for you to let go of him, because you had no plans to, but you barely moved. Trent’s arms lingered around you for just a moment longer before he reluctantly pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he met your gaze one last time.

“What did he say?” Layla asked under her breath, watching you carefully. You shook your head with a small laugh, brushing it off. 

“Nothing,” you lied, though your cheeks betrayed you with a warm flush. Layla gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further, letting the moment settle as the party surged on around you. 

Trent stood slightly off to the side of his friends, arms crossed and his focus split. Noah was with him, cracking jokes as always, but the boy beside them—Bailey—was an unfamiliar face, part of a wider circle of acquaintances that Trent didn’t know well. What started as idle conversation quickly shifted the moment Bailey’s attention landed on you across the room.Bailey’s jaw slackened, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made Trent’s stomach churn. His discomfort was immediate, though he kept his face neutral, following Bailey’s gaze. You were talking to Layla, smiling brightly, your hand gesturing animatedly as you spoke.

“She’s certainly not ugly,” Noah noticing, quipped with a laugh, slapping Bailey on the back.

“She’s so fit, mate,” Bailey added, his voice dripping with awe. “Fucks sake, mate. Any of you get with her?” Trent’s jaw tightened at the audacity of the question, but Noah—always quick to stir the pot—grinned and threw in a jab.

“Trenty wishes,” Noah smirked, throwing a few playful punches at Trent’s arm. “But he’s got a new bird now apparently. So what’s going on there with Y/N then? I thought you'd take her up on the offer eventually.”

“Nah, don’t say that. Jack would kill me, you know that,” Trent shot back quickly, his voice steady despite the unease settling in his chest. He knew bringing up Jack was the easiest way to shut the conversation down, but it wasn’t the full truth. Bailey frowned, looking between them in confusion. 

“You lot don’t think about her that way?” he asked, incredulous.

“I mean, course,” Trent admitted instinctively fast and drunkenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He immediately wanted to hit himself. Noah, catching the crack in Trent’s usual composure, smirked smugly. 

“Jack’s not here tonight, lad. It’s your limited window. You’re telling me you don’t notice the way she acts around you? Notice the way she looks?” Noah’s cheek was growing and Tren’t resolve was dwindling. He let out a long sigh, his gaze drifting back to you as you tilted your head back with a laugh at something Layla said. The warm overhead lights danced over your skin, making you look radiant. His chest ached with longing, the lie he lived burning in his throat.

“I mean, yeah. She’s beautiful,” Trent said softly, almost to himself.

“Beautiful?” Bailey barked out a laugh. “She’s fucking fit. Got a body on her.” Trent’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt as he scanned your body over the same way Bailey was, from the tip of your boots to the top of your head, desire on both of their minds. [index ref]

“Erm, yeah, mate.” Trent’s eyes narrowed. “She’s something,” he said quietly, shaking his head in frustration. Noah, sensing the tension, pressed further, his voice full of teasing delight.

“Trent knows her well,” he told Bailey, grinning. Trent scoffed, trying to brush it off. “You do!” Noah yelped. “Bro, you’re the only one she sits with. The only one she lets touch her. And no one says anything. C’mon, Trenty, stop playing nice. Tell the lad about her.” Noah prodded pushing Trent to tell Bailey how great you were knowing it’d be hard for him. 

“Nah, mate. I guess, I don’t know,” Trent muttered, forcing the words out in a desperate attempt to end the conversation. But his chest tightened, the weight of his feelings—so much more than Noah or Bailey could understand—bearing down on him. Just then, their other friend, Aidan, walked over, draping an arm around Trent. The distraction was welcome, but it didn’t erase the pit of frustration and yearning brewing inside him. He couldn’t stand this conversation, couldn’t stand Bailey’s gawking, couldn’t stand the charade. Trent’s eyes flicked back to you, his heart thudding as he watched you smile. You were oblivious to the storm swirling in him, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling like tonight was another reminder of just how much he hated hiding.

“We talking Jack’s sister? Yeah, I won’t lie boys, she’s leng. Come on, you know she’s good in bed as well,” Aidan added casually, his voice slurring slightly with the weight of too many drinks. Trent winced, the comment hitting him like a sharp jab.

“What? Have you?” he asked, his tone panicked and defensive, betraying the calm facade he’d been trying to maintain.

“No, I wish,” Aidan laughed, oblivious to Trent’s reaction. “I mean, you can just tell though.”

“Yeah, you can tell,” Bailey chimed in with a smirk, his eyes lingering on you from across the room. “But mate, it seems like she’s into you. I saw you hug her when she came in.”  Trent’s heart rate picked up, and he struggled to keep his expression neutral.

 “Probably the only one she’d let have a cuddle in that fit,” Noah laughed, throwing fuel on the fire watching you adjust the hem of your mini skirt knowing you’d wouldn't let just any boy put their hands on you when you were out.

“I don’t know how you practice this much restraint if you're already in,” Bailey said, shaking his head in disbelief. Trent swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as Aidan cut back in, leaning slightly closer to Trent as if to confide some secret.

“Seriously, I don’t know how you do it, bro. She always struts around us in nothing." He then looked at Noah and Bailey. "I think she likes the attention, but we all know she likes Trenty’s attention the most.” The words twisted in Trent’s gut like a knife. He hated the way they spoke about you, the casual objectification of someone they knew so well yet also barely knew beyond the surface, the way he did.

“Eh, don’t know lads. She’s just chill. I don’t think she thinks about it,” Trent said, forcing his voice to stay steady.

“Come on,” Noah rolled his eyes, annoyed that even in his drunk state, Trent wouldn’t falter. But Trent couldn’t falter, not here, not now. He knew the boys had always talked shit like this at parties, tossing your name into the mix like you were some topic for debate. Normally, he brushed it off, participating but choosing to stay silent when it came to you rather than feed into it. But tonight, it felt different. The way they lingered, the way they openly dissected the dynamics between you and him—it was too real, too close to everything he was trying so hard to protect. The bitterness welled up in his chest, the laughter around him grating on his nerves. He wanted to say something, to shut it down, but any slip of the truth would only add more fuel to their relentless teasing. So instead, he stood there, silent, his fists clenching at his sides, wishing he could pull you out of this party and into a space where none of these people and their drunken commentary could touch you.

You caught Trent’s gaze across the room, and the intensity of his stare made your cheeks flush. His lips quirked into a soft smile, but the cool, effortless demeanor he carried around everyone else seemed to dissolve under your gaze. Layla caught the exchange instantly, smirking as she raised her hand in an exaggerated wave at him. Trent waved back with a charm that felt deliberate, but even Layla could tell he was unraveling.

“God, you’ve got him absolutely gone,” she teased, nudging you with her shoulder. “Whatever you do in bed with him has him a mess. He can’t even pretend anymore, before at least he had a poker face.” She laughed. You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest was undeniable.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing Layla’s hand and weaving through the crowded room toward the boys.

“Hiyaaa!” Layla purred as you reached the group, giving Noah and Aidan hugs and introducing herself to Bailey with her usual flair. But before you could even exchange pleasantries, Trent was there, sliding his arm around your waist in a way that was both subtle and unmistakably possessive, keeping you from getting even in touching distance of the other boys. His fingers dipped into the back of your skirt refusing to let you even try to create space between you. The contact sent a shiver through you, grounding you in his presence. You leaned into him not wanting any space, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you whispered something cheeky, just for him. Whatever you said made his grin spread wider, his confidence returning as he pulled you closer.

“Gonna drive you home, hmm?” he murmured aloud, his voice low but loud enough for the others to hear. It was casual, a simple blanket statement, that he’d said a million times to you, but the promise hidden in his tone made your heart race. You glanced up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

 “Maybe,” you teased back, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. Layla smirked at the exchange, watching Trent’s usual composure crack further.

“Nah.” He pulled on your skirt’s waist again bringing you tighter into him. “I said… I’m gonna drive you home. Alright?” Trent commandingly told you. The boys watched on in disbelief but you and Trent remained in your bubble, his hand never leaving your waist as the rest of the world faded into background noise. Bailey's jaw dropped as he took in the moment.

"Bro, they have to bang, no?" he blurted out, completely bewildered by the quiet intimacy playing out before him. Layla shrugged nonchalantly but bit her tongue to keep from saying anything.

"If l even put my hand near her, she'd call me bro and swat me away," Noah laughed, gesturing toward you. "But Trent? Nah, he gets to do whatever he wants. Got that pretty boy privilege. We've got a different thing happening here."

"Yeah, mate, he's got the green light. I don't know what he's waiting for," Aiden chimed in, his tone teetering between disbelief and amusement. Bailey blinked, staring intently as Trent's hand casually disappeared under your top, his fingers gliding softly over your stomach. It wasn't showy or bold, but the gesture was undeniably intimate.

"Wait, did he just—" Bailey started, his eyes wide as he turned to the group. "His hand is under her clothes right now. Is this happening? Lads… is this a thing? Have I just been talking about his girl the whole time?" He looked to Aiden and Noah for answers, as if they were the only ones who might hold the key to what was clearly more than just a casual friendship. Layla sighed, debating whether to tell the boys to mind their own business, but before she could speak, Noah interjected, smirking.

"Not his girl officially haha. I think he just likes the game." He smugly said. Layla snapped her head toward Noah, her eyes narrowing in irritation. The comment, whether a joke or not, grated on her. The idea that you could ever be seen as a game to Trent made her blood boil.

"That's not funny, Noah," she said firmly, her tone sharp enough to make him pause. "They’re friends. That’s how T’s always been with her.” She snapped. Noah took a deep breath of understanding. It wasn’t a joke. Even as much stick as everyone gave you and Trent, no one ever meant any mal intent by it. He knew you had a crush on Trent. He would never want Trent to mess with you like that.

“I know, Lay… sorry. It’s only jokes. They’re mates.” Noah responded awkwardly. Not because of Layla but because he would never want to offend you. The group fell into quiet hums of spectators for a moment but none of them could tear their eyes away from the two of you. Trent's attention remained solely on you, his hand moving in a way that felt both protective and adoring, and it was clear to anyone watching-this wasn't a game for him.

“Aye, lads… I’m gonna drive Y/N home,” Trent announced casually, though the way his arm tightened around your waist betrayed his eagerness. You, tipsy and giggling, clung to his side, completely oblivious to the knowing looks bouncing around the group.

“Yeah, sure,” Bailey laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Driving her home. Right.” Trent ignored his comment but it wasn't so easy.

“Tonight’s it, lad,” Aiden whispered, gripping Trent’s shoulder with a cheeky grin. His voice was low, but the teasing intent was unmistakable. Trent shook his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was impossible to hide. To redirect the attention and save face, Trent turned to Layla.

“Lays you want a ride too?” He offered, His voice was kind, but the question was almost rhetorical. Layla waved him off immediately.

 “Nah, I’m good. Noah’s got me,” she replied with a knowing smirk, her eyes darting between the two of you. Noah raised a brow, caught off guard.

 “I do?” he asked, but when Layla shot him a pointed look, he shrugged and leaned into the moment. “Yeah, shit, sorry, sure. Yeah, I do. Always happy to help.” His smug grin only grew as he watched you and Trent prepare to leave together. The group watched as Trent guided you toward the door, his hand never leaving the small of your back. As you stepped out into the cool night air and out from prying eyes, Trent leaned down.

 “You alright, baby?” He whispered. You nodded, smiling up at him. “You wanted me to drive you home?” He looked at you smugly. 

“Mhhmm. To your house please. Just want to be with you,” you murmured, your words laced with affection. And with that, the rest of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, ready to retreat to your own little world.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 12 - Monaco xx

[snarkwrites]

summer sizzle | selfish - sweet pea | mature.

PROMPTS USED:

To the music + dirty dancing + “I like you this close to me. You’re warm.” + “You are so fucking beautiful.” + Kiss on the neck +“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” + comfort sex + needy/clingy + touching / kissing heavy + “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” + afterglow; talking and cuddling -

AUTHORS NOTES:

Look at me, being all productive and shit, posting content not once but twice in a week. Ya’ll, it’s been a while. I’m rusty as fuuuuck I won’t lie, but.. This was fun to write, even if it was a complicated little bitch in the beginning. If enough people want it, I might actually develop an actual fic for this Andrews!Oc and Pea, because I think it could be very interesting. In the meantime, unless you’re not 18+, enjoy the smut?

PAIRING:

Sweet Pea x Andrews!Ofc. [ RIVERDALE FANDOM ]

WARNINGS:

I am baaadly out of practice writing smut, first of all. Slightly jerky behavior to start with on Pea’s part, biting, s*x, swearing, overuse of petnames, angst to start with. Porn, but heavy af on the plot because apparently, I cannot write it any other way. BUT HAHAHA! THIS BITCH REMEMBERED TO HAVE THEM WRAP IT UP. I REMEMBERED THE GODDAMN CONDOM.

No children allowed,m’kay? This is smut. Not the filthiest, probably not even the best, but it’s out there.

TAGGING:

uhh.. given that this is smut, I’m gonna tag @rampagewriting​. If anyone else wants to be tagged in my stuff, follow the link below to my google doc and add yourself, yeah?

Life edit, I also tag @xxghostnappaxx​ to this. 

[ four seasons masterlist ] | [ tag list google doc ] | [ faq ]

  ----> SELFISH, a sweet pea x ofc oneshot.

“If you want to go to the dance, Alyssa.. I’m

not

stopping you.” Sweet Pea spoke calmly, giving a shrug as if he didn’t care either way. As he gazed down at me, I sighed and shook my head sadly. I tried stepping a little closer but he backed away like usual.

At this point, I find myself seriously wondering what exactly keeps me coming back.

,, oh, that’s right you stupid, stupid girl, you’re in love with the jerk.” - the thought came, taunting me in it’s brutal and raw truth.

But a girl can only be pushed out so far and honestly?

I was sick of paying for the pain Josie McCoy caused him. I was sick of having to prove myself over and over, I was beyond tired of being tested and questioned. I was tired of hoping against hope that one day, he’d finally get it. He’d realize that unlike pretty much everyone else in his life to this point, I wasn’t going anywhere.

A talk I had with Betty came back and I turned back to look at Sweet Pea, shaking my head. Something in me snapped and before I could stop myself, I was saying something I knew full well I’d come to regret.

“You’re dense. All this time and you don’t get it. You can’t see what’s right here in front of you, begging to be taken. I loved you, okay? Nothing would’ve changed that. But you… You had to keep pushing me away, you had to keep questioning my motives. I’m going to the dance, Sweet Pea. And I think,” I paused, taking a few deep breaths to keep myself calm. 

If I didn’t do it, I was most definitely going to break down sobbing. I wouldn’t ever go through with this because the last thing I want to do right now is turn my back. I mean, I love the guy. I don’t want to give up like pretty much everyone else in his life has. After I’d taken a few seconds to get myself calm again, I kept going, “ I think that I’m also going to leave you alone from now on since that’s obviously what you want.”

I grabbed my backpack and before he could say anything, I walked out of the empty classroom we’d been sitting in. Almost the second I was out in the hallway and standing by my locker, what I’d just done hit me and I wound up sitting on the hallway floor, my head resting against my knees.

“Alyssa?”

I looked up to find Reggie Mantle standing there, staring down at me in concern. “Are you crying?”

I shook my head, wiping at my eyes. I could’ve easily told Reggie Mantle exactly why I was sitting in the floor of the hallway crying, but in the end, I still cared entirely too much for Sweet Pea and the last thing I wanted was for him to get into another fight.

,, don’t flatter yourself. Did you not see just how little he cares when he didn’t try to stop you? When he didn’t wake up at the last second and at least try to fight for you?” the thought sat in my mind, taunting me bitterly. And I still kept the reason I was crying to myself.

Reggie flopped down next to me and kind of awkwardly slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Hey, c’mon, princess.”

“Don’t call me that… Please?” I glanced up at him, wincing a little at the use of the pet-name. Given that pretty much all of Archie’s friends called me that, I realized suddenly that when Sweet Pea called me that, it had taken on a whole new meaning for me. It changed from just a dumb nickname given to me by my older brother and all of his friends to something… Special. Intimate.

And now, I was going to hear it all the time and yeah, it was probably going to hurt like hell.

Reggie eyed me and I gave him a pleading look. “There has to be a million other things you can call me. I’m not a little girl anymore, Reg.” I said it quickly, hoping it wouldn’t raise suspicion or anything.

I didn’t want any of this getting back to Pea, putting him into a situation with my brother or any of his friends. I let out a deep breath that I didn’t even realize I held when Reggie smiled and nodded, seeming to accept my hasty explanation.

“There’s a lot of things I could call you, angel.” he said it so smoothly that I had not a single doubt in my mind that yet again, he was hitting on me.

But I was hurting so much at the moment, I didn’t immediately put him off. I looked up at him and gave a weak sort of smile, shrugging. “Whatever you wanna call me… Just not princess, okay?”

Reggie flashed a grin and gave me the thumbs up, springing up off the hallway floor. He held out his hand and warily, I eyed it a few seconds before finally allowing him to pull me off the floor. He walked me to class and just before I disappeared in the door, he stopped me, dragging his fingers through his hair as he eyed me up. “You gonna be alright, angel?”

“Yeah, it just hasn’t been a good day.”

“If you wanna talk.. You’ve got your old buddy Reggie.”

Somehow, when he said it, I got the distinct feeling that he meant something more by it, but I shoved the thought down. 

--

I could feel his eyes burning a hole through me and several times, I almost turned around. I almost said something. But I remembered what I was trying to do, and I remembered the way he didn’t say anything to stop me when I did it and the hurt came back all over again.

Sweet Pea hissed my name from behind and I stared straight ahead, blatantly ignoring him. The teacher gave him a dirty look and he went quiet after that. Despite my resolve not to, I found myself turning around now and then, watching him when he wasn’t looking.

But I can’t keep letting myself be a doormat. I have to stand my ground. Even if this is killing me. Even if it’s the last thing I want to do. 

Bearing that in mind, for the rest of the week, I went above and beyond to either avoid Sweet Pea or make sure I was never alone in the hallway or after class so he couldn’t find me or talk to me. I made myself scarce. I bottled everything up and I shoved it all down. And I thought I was doing a pretty damn good job at it too...

--

“You! Explain yourself right now.” Cheryl and Toni stormed into Pop’s and glared at Sweet Pea angrily as they stood by the booth he sat in by himself.

“Hey to you too, Blossom.” Sweet Pea grumbled, not even bothering to look up from the barely touched plate of food sitting on the booth in front of him. He growled quietly when Cheryl and Toni took it upon themselves to sit down in the other side of the booth without bothering to ask.

“Obviously, you two are gonna say something, so just say it and go. Kind of not in the mood.” Sweet Pea spoke up as he stared out the window, into the parking lot. 

“What kind of idiot are you?” Toni asked, shaking her head as she reached across the table, taking some of Sweet Pea’s french fries and eating them herself. He gave her a dirty look but she shrugged, wiping away ketchup from the corners of her mouth before repeating herself. “I repeat, Pea… what kind of an idiot are you?”

“A pretty big one, if you want my opinion, lover.” Cheryl answered Toni’s question before Sweet Pea could say anything.

“Can you two stop dancing around whatever this is and say it?”

“We heard about what happened with you and Alyssa. Are you seriously going to sit here and do nothing? She said she loved you, Pea. What? That’s just not good enough?”

“I know what she said.” Sweet Pea barked the statement, making both girls share a look. After quiet whispering, the two looked at him again, determined. “It was, okay? I just..” he trailed off, swearing under his breath and shaking his head as the two of them shared a look and then directed their gaze to him in unison.

 “What?” Sweet Pea grumbled, taking a sip of the soda on the table beside him.

“You’re going to fix this, you giant idiot. You have to fix it. I can’t have one of my Vixens going around all mopey or even worse, missing Homecoming festivities entirely. Need I remind you, we Vixens have a strong reputation in this school? And if one of us is lacking spirit, it makes us all look bad.”

Sweet Pea laughed. The laughter died away when he realized that they were being serious. “That’s what this is about? Your stupid cheerleading shit? You do realize I can’t fix it, right? Do you not think I’ve tried, Blossom?”

“Try harder, you big oaf.” Cheryl leaned in slightly, glaring at Sweet Pea in frustration. She added as an afterthought, “ I hate seeing her like this, okay? She’s a sweet girl and honestly, it kills me. I need her happy and bubbly. You broke my Vixen, you fix her now.” 

“Don’t hold your breath, Blossom.” Sweet Pea shrugged, his shoulders sagging as he went back to staring down at mostly untouched food. Toni eyed him and spoke up.

“Wow. I have never seen you just sit and pick at your food, Pea. This is really bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Gee… whatever gave you that idea, Topaz?” Sweet Pea snorted sarcastically, giving an eye roll as he shifted around in his seat, eyeing the door. All he wanted to do was escape right now. Because the more they said, the more it made him replay that day over and over again.

And it hurt like hell. It only made him angry at himself all over again.

“You know, you’re a stubborn ass, right? You could fix this if you really wanted to. But I guess you don’t. So I guess she’ll just wind up moving on and you’ll go back to being the miserable man-bitch we all know and love yet want to strangle.”

Toni smirked as her words hit their mark and the two of them stood, walking out of Pops, leaving Sweet Pea to stew in Toni’s parting remark. And it took hold, rooting itself in his mind.

That’s the one thing about friends who are like family. They always know where to hit at to illicit an actual reaction.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Sweet Pea stood, tossing his half eaten food and the empty soda into a bin and he strode out the door into the parking lot.

He happened to look across the parking lot, spot her getting out of the truck with her father, Fred.

He called her name and for once, she looked back. The hurt look in her eyes and the sad shake of her head was what really got him. He couldn’t have felt worse if he tried. He stood there, watching her walk into Pop’s with her father and in that moment, he made up his mind.

One way or another, even if it took a long time, he was going to fight. He couldn’t just give up. He couldn’t let her slip through his fingers.

--

My father cleared his throat from the seat across the booth. “Everything okay, shortcake?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s all good.”

“Well then what was all that outside?”

“What?” I asked the question, tensing a little. Sometimes, having such a perceptive father isn’t really a great thing. Especially when I don’t really… like acknowledging pain. Or dealing with it. I mean, my whole idea of dealing with the situation with Sweet Pea has been to just pretend I’m okay, but to go above and beyond to avoid him. 

“You know what I’m talkin about. The kid called your name and you gave him that look. The one you always gave Archie when you were little and Archie wouldn’t let you tag along to play.”

I plastered on my best convincing face and shook my head, taking a noisy sip of my chocolate milkshake. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, dad. He’s in my class. He was just saying hey.”

“It sounded like he was trying to talk to you.” my father pointed out and I bit my lip, glancing over at him. “Yeah, well.. If he wanted to talk, he should’ve done it earlier. At school. I’m starving. Can we order now?”

My father chuckled and for a few seconds, he eyed me as if he wanted to ask more questions. Thankfully, he let it go. “Yeah. What do you want? I think I’m gonna get my usual.”

“I think I’m going to try your usual, actually.”

“That’s a lot of burger, kid.” my father laughed.

I shrugged and did my best to laugh. As I happened to look over at the window, I did so just in time to see Sweet Pea’s truck pulling out of the parking lot. For a second or two, I wondered what he might have said if I’d walked over.

But I quickly shoved that out of my head.

-- LE TIME SKIPPE.

Cheryl spotted me making my way into the gym. “You came!” she pulled me into a hug and I nodded, shrugging. My eyes roamed around the gym and I swallowed hard, stomach sinking just a little when I saw no sign of Sweet Pea anywhere.

,, did you really think he’d show, Alyssa?” - the thought had me frowning a little, but I quickly plastered on my best attempt at a bright smile when we pulled back from the little hug. Cheryl smiled. “I love the dress. Let’s see if we can’t get you circulating…”

“Actually, I’m just gonna go get some punch? Maybe observe until they play a song worth dancing to?” I bit my lip as I said it and Cheryl eyed me a second or two, before finally giving a nod under Toni’s gaze.

If not for Toni, I have no idea Cheryl would’ve ignored me and gone ahead, doing what she wanted. It used to annoy the hell out of me when we were all kids, but now, I kind of see it as her, trying to show that she really does care.

And she’s been a lot more help than she realizes since things with Sweet Pea crashed and burned so badly. She hasn’t really… let me mope a lot. I’ve wanted to, but she and Toni always find a way to manage keeping me from it.

I made my way over to the punch bowl and the refreshments table and I turned around, my back to the crowd as I scooped punch into my cup, grumbling to myself as soon as I felt the burn of alcohol as it crawled down my throat and into my stomach. “Figures. Somebody would have to spike the punch.” I mused to myself as I sipped from the cup and momentarily toyed with the idea of just grabbing the entire chocolate cake on the table and a plastic fork, disappearing for the alcove beneath the stairs on the freshman wing.

But I told myself that I was coming tonight. I’m trying to get over him. And damn it, I’m determined to fake it til I make it.

“Wanna dance, angel?” Reggie leaned against me from behind, muttering the words quietly against my ear. I bit my lip, trying to brainstorm the best way to politely turn him down.

There’s only one guy I want to dance with, but apparently, I’m not and will never be good enough.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, frustrated with myself.

I was about to turn around and accept Reggie’s offer  when I heard Sweet Pea speaking up from behind Reggie. “Beat it, Dog.”

“How about you fuck outta here, Serpent?” Reggie gave Sweet Pea a dirty look. 

I stood there, eyes darting from one to the other, both of them tensed and squared up, ready to go in the snap of a finger.

“Guys, no.” I spoke up, warning tone as my hand rested against my hip. “You’re not about to start this shit.”

“He started it.” both responded, glaring at the other. I rolled my eyes and tried to make  it a point to avoid Sweet Pea’s intent gaze. The way deep brown eyes roamed over every single inch of my body, lingering just enough to make my breath catch in my throat. In the end, I just couldn’t though, and I found myself getting sucked into his gaze.

I sighed quietly and managed to tear my eyes off the way he looked in a borrowed suit, the tie undone at his neck, even though the sight of him had my knees utterly weak. I focused on Reggie instead and plastered on a smile, nodding to the dance floor.

“Didn’t you ask me to dance, Reg?” I asked, stepping away from Sweet Pea and a little closer to Reggie. He held out his arm and I looped mine through, letting him lead me out onto the dance floor.

I didn’t dare look back at Sweet Pea. I didn’t have to. I could feel his eyes penetrating me, I could feel his gaze shift to Reggie and I, despite Reggie moving us towards other parts of the gym floor several times during the dance we shared. At one point, he chuckled against my ear as I grinded against him, hips swaying in time to the song playing, “If looks could kill right now, huh?”

I swallowed hard, catching eyes with Sweet Pea. He was leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. If he glared any harder at Reggie, Reggie would drop dead on the spot. I did my best to look like I was having the time of my life and finally, the song came to an end. Reggie chuckled and dragged his fingers through his hair as he winked at me and told me he’d find me later on tonight, maybe we’d dance again.

I nodded, even though I had every intention of disappearing long before that happened. I was heading back towards the punch bowl for another cup of punch when I felt arms wrap around my waist and I found myself body to body with Sweet Pea.

“That fuckin guy?” Sweet Pea nodded to Reggie, who was already dancing with another girl. I bit my lip and stepped back a little when Sweet Pea moved closer, towering over me.

“He asked me to dance. Seeing as how I’m here alone tonight, all dressed up, I didn’t see the harm.”

“You didn’t see the harm.” Sweet Pea was doing his best at keeping a calm tone, but I could see the exact second his fists clenched at his sides and I could hear it in the way he exhaled. What I didn’t understand was why exactly he was so jealous.

“No. I didn’t.” I swallowed hard as he stepped closer. His hand ghosted my side, fingertips digging in ever so slightly when they stilled on my hip. He leaned down just a little and muttered quietly, calmly, “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you, princess.” using my moment of confusion to pull me closer, pressing me against him. The way he said it had my heart fluttering a little and I barely managed not whimpering at the look in his eyes when mine met his after a few seconds.

I tried to keep some distance between us, attempting to pull back a little even though that was the absolute last thing I wanted to do. I was trying to keep my defenses up. However, he seemed to pick right up on it and something softened in his eyes as he tried again, pulling me close all over again, arms around my waist. 

I couldn’t formulate words or string a single coherent thought together and it was a damn shame because there was so much I wanted to say to him. To yell at him. He’d hurt me and honestly, I just wanted to let him have it.

Instead, I sighed and melted into his arms a little, my hand raising and catching in the collar of his borrowed suit. His mouth grazed right against the shell of my ear and he muttered huskily against, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” before tilting my chin so that I had to look up at him. I gulped, taking a deep breath.

“You really hurt me. I mean, you really, really hurt me.” I pouted a little, at least making a valiant effort to stand my ground and make him own up to his part in the way things played out almost two weeks ago. He flinched, his hand leaving my hip and raising to rake hair back out of my eyes as he continued to stare down at me intently, lost in thought. I took a deep breath and continued, “I should just walk away. Right now.”

“Princess, don’t.” Sweet Pea spoke up quietly with his tone torn between firmness and fear, leaning his forehead down, resting it against mine. Somebody got the DJ to play Love Me Like You Do and for a second, I heavily considered it, just walking off the dance floor and maybe even leaving the dance altogether.

Instead, I took a deep breath and met his gaze, eyeing him expectantly. “Do you have nothing at all to say for yourself, Sweet Pea?”

“Oh, I got plenty to say, princess. I’m just not saying it here, in front of everyone.” Sweet Pea muttered the words quietly, his lips brushing right up against mine as he spoke. I sucked in a sharp breath but I also pouted again, tensing against him a little, because obviously, that was the entirety of our problem to start with. I knew how he felt, hypothetically, I never really doubted it until that last day I talked to him, when he didn’t try to stop me, when he didn’t come after me and trust me enough not to hurt him like he’d already been hurt to let it all go. I did manage to step back just a little, putting space between us and I shook my head. “Wrong answer, Sweet Pea.”

He swallowed hard, looking around.

I bit my lip, shuffling my feet against the gym floor. I didn’t want to do this, but I also didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to risk anything until I knew that this time, things were going to be a little different.

If not, I couldn’t just stick around and keep waiting, no matter how much I wanted to. What if he was never ready to let me in?

“What do you want me to say? I love you? Fine. I love you.” Sweet Pea was stepping closer all over again, hands firmly planted on my hips this time to hold me in place. At first, I thought about bolting because I wasn’t entirely sure whether he was just saying it now to get me to stay or whether he meant it, but then I looked up and my eyes actually met his.

“I love you and this whole thing is driving me fucking insane, princess.” he pulled me completely against him this time, staring down at me almost hungrily. He grumbled and rolled his shoulders making muscular arms strain against the ill fitting suit and I found my eyes fixated on that, distracted. 

“I see you checking me out, princess. Is there something you want? Just tell me and it’s yours, I promise.” the question was posed with that trademark cocky smirk and I gulped, locking eyes with him. Seconds felt stretched into hours and neither of us said anything, we just stared. At least until I felt his hands wandering all over me as we danced. He leaned in closer, a hand leaving where it rested against my ass to raise to my cheek, gripping, guiding my mouth straight to his own. 

My back hit one of the gym walls softly and I found myself pressed right up against it, his hand lowering from where it rested on my cheek to roam all over my body as his mouth devoured mine hungrily. I could feel my lips starting to bruise and swell and when his teeth sank into my bottom one, tugging at it, I whimpered and raised my arms, wrapping them around his neck, only after I dragged my fingers over his scalp. His other hand tangled in my hair, using his grip to pull my lips into the kiss even deeper still. By this point, we were both gasping for breath, panting heavily and a whimper bubbled out of my throat when he bucked himself against me and growled into the kiss quietly just before it broke, both of us pulling away, wide-eye and trying desperately to catch our breath.

“I asked you a question. Is there anything you want right now, princess?” his voice was a low rumble when he spoke and the way he towered over me, staring down, with an arm raised and his palm flat against the wall I was pressed up against had me leaning against him heavily, all the bones pretty much leaving my legs and reducing them to gelatin just a little more with each little touch, with each on purpose graze of his mouth against my ear or my neck, even the front of my throat. I finally managed to rub against him a little and he growled quietly, biting his bottom lip as he looked down at me, the lust burning bright in his eyes. 

The music changed to a slower song and I shivered at the way he rubbed himself against me, the way he strained against the suit pants making me bite my lip and cling to him, rubbing against him right back. I was grateful for the fact that we were in the back of the gym and nobody was really paying us any attention, because I’d never really danced this dirty with anyone before.

The next thing I knew, I was being scooped up into his arms and carried out of the gym. I clung to him, my lips grazing up and down the side of his neck, little whimpers as he whispered things to me while carrying me out of the dance.

He unlocked his truck, opening the passenger door and sitting me in the seat, stepping between my legs as his hands wandered up and down my sides, then over my thighs. My head fell back and I licked my lips, earning me a growl and him leaning in against me heavily to whisper against the shell of my ear, “You know what that does to me, princess.”

“No, I actually don’t. I didn’t, I mean.” I managed to gasp out in a shaky breath against his ear as my hands wandered down the front of the button up top, unable to still, touching him in any way I could. My legs wrapped around his hips and squeezed against, my heels digging into his ass to pull him against me even more. It ended up leaning me back against the seat a little and Sweet Pea followed me down, his lips ghosting down the front of my throat, littering soft skin with bites and marks.

“We’re leaving, princess… If that’s okay with you.” he managed to gasp out the question when he pulled himself away from my neck and throat, catching his breath as he stared down at me, almost anxiously. It was a switch from the way he usually carried himself, so cocky and self-assured at all times. It let me know just how much I’d truly gotten to him.

“Mhm.” I purred against his neck after I’d melted into him again, muttering a few seconds later, “I like you this close to me. You’re warm.” and batting my lashes, making him growl quietly when the movement tickled his skin. His fingers dug into my body even more, squeezing as if he were trying desperately to hang onto any shred of self-control he might have left. 

“This isn’t getting us outta here, princess.” he gave a low and dark chuckle against my mouth as he zeroed in on it again, another bruising and deep kiss that left my lips swollen and achy. I whimpered, almost needy as he stepped away, tucked my legs into his truck and shut the passenger door firmly. He jogged around to the driver seat and got in, wasting no time in cranking the truck and spinning out of the parking lot and onto the street that ran right past it.

His hand left the steering wheel, moving slowly up and down my thigh, making me whimper and squirm as he nodded to the space next to him in the middle of the bench seat. “C’mon, princess. Get closer.”

I moved closer, leaning against his side and my breath caught in my throat when I felt his hand venture up my dress, rubbing me through the pink satin beneath it. He leaned in a little at the one redlight in town and muttered almost cocky against my ear, “Princess, you’re dripping.” and bit his lip as he pulled away, turning his attention back to the road in front of us as the light went green. The more he rubbed, the more I rocked myself against his hand, making him chuckle quietly. “Good girl. Such a good girl. Just a few more minutes, okay? And then, if you let me, I’m gonna take real good care of you. I mean that, princess.” 

My head fell back against the seat with a soft thud and I whimpered as I rocked myself against his hand even more after he started to rub harder, faster. “Sweet Pea.” I choked out, panting heavily, “Don’t stop. Feels so good.”

The truck pulled to a stop and he killed the engine, wrangling me into his lap, making me pout because he’d taken his hand away. His lips were all over my face and neck until I couldn’t take it anymore and I was literally dying to be kissed again, my hands resting against his cheeks and pulling his mouth against mine greedily.

He bucked himself into me from below and as I rocked myself back and forth in his lap, his fingers dug into my sides, pressing me down harder. “Fuck. I can feel you dripping, princess. This feel good?”

“Yes. So good.” I gasped as I buried my lips in his neck, leaving a mark of my own behind, making him groan and buck into me harder, holding my hips still so that he had control over the friction as he looked me up and down, almost as if he were sizing up mentally just how long it would take to strip me down.

He stepped out of his truck, not bothering to put me down, carrying me up the steps and into his trailer, the door shut and locked behind us. My back pressed into it as his hand made it’s way back up my dress and he bucked against me, rubbing his hand harder against soaked pink satin. 

“Sweet Pea.” I moaned out, shattering the silence in the trailer. “Yeah, baby girl?” he breathed against my ear, his fingers trailing a line straight up my slit after slipping into my panties. “Now. Need you now.” I nipped at his neck as I raised one of my legs to his waist, trying to keep myself steady.

“Now, hmm? If that’s what you want, princess.” he broke the kiss and pulled back, searching my eyes, almost as if he were making sure that I wanted to go this far. I licked my lips and whimpered, rocking myself against his hand all over again, begging for it breathlessly until he pulled me up his body and carried me over to the mattresses he slept on, my back hitting them softly as he sank down, sitting next to me. I climbed into his lap, my fingers pulling at the buttons on his shirt after I’d managed to tug down the jacket of the suit, letting it fall to the bed. His hands disappeared up my dress, fingers catching in the waistband of my panties, tearing them away with a quiet rip and tossing them onto the floor by the bed. He laid me back, positioning himself over me, pressing himself down into me and his mouth rolled over my neck, leaving more bitemarks and little nips behind, smirking against my skin as he did so.

“Everybody’s gonna know you’re mine, princess. You sure you’re okay with that?” his voice was husky, laced with sex and want, almost raw and primal as his lips brushed against my ear and he rocked himself against me. I got my hands free from where they’d been caught and immediately, I went for the button and zipper on his pants, tugging pants and boxers down at the same time. They pooled at his feet as he stood up and he kicked them free, sending them skidding quietly out into the middle of the floor before turning his attention to the little tray table at the head of the bed, digging around on top of it, coming up with a condom in his grip. 

He pulled himself away from me, because he’d been pressed against me again, tearing the wrapper with his teeth and spitting the foil onto the floor after he’d torn the packaging.As he prepared to put it on, I gently pushed his hand away, gazing up at him as my hand circled his cock, working the rubber sheath down in place over it. He growled, bucking himself into my hand and almost the second it was fully on, he had me on my back again, lowering himself down over me.

My legs wrapped around him and he rose up, his hand circling his thick member, guiding it right over my slit, making me gasp as he stared down at me and bit his lip, leaning down just a little to murmur against my ear, “Don’t let me hurt you, princess.”

I hissed as I felt the tip slowly slip in and my nails dug into his shoulders as I tensed all over. He went still, staring down at me, kissing me all over my face before zeroing into my mouth again, but not until I begged for it first.

He started to fuck into me slowly as I began to relax, and I rocked my hips up to meet each thrust, the tips of my fingers gripping at his shoulders a little harder with each one. “You feel so so good, princess. So good. You’re okay, right?”

“Feels good.” I gasped, my eyes fluttering open and shut as I started to feel myself tensing, this slow and lazy heat settling in my core. I could feel myself dripping, and the soft smack of our bodies with every single thrust echoed off the walls of the trailer. He slowed to a stop again, muttering against my lips in a daze, “Gotta slow down, princess. I wanna take my time with you.” and I nodded. I wasn’t really in a hurry to get home, my father told Archie and I we could be out late tonight because of the dance.

Honestly, I’d told him I’d probably just stay over at Cheryl’s or something and he’d been okay with it.

The prospect of having a whole night alone with Sweet Pea was exciting. 

His thrusts sped up a little and when I raised my arms to wrap them around his neck again, he chuckled, smiling down at me, a softer version of his usual cocky smirk. “You feel so good, princess. You’re takin me so well. C’mon, move your hips, baby girl. That’s it.” he groaned out against my ear as he started to slam into me harder, more erratically. 

By now, that slow and lazy heat in my core had turned into a dull throb and I moaned out, rocking my hips to meet his thrusts with more urgency because I could feel myself getting closer and closer with each stroke. He growled and gripped at my hips, trying to hold me still and stay in control, chuckling against my ear almost teasingly, “You gonna come for me?”

“So.. so close.. Don’t stop.” I begged over and over as his thrusts got deeper, rougher, and his fingers dug into my hips, the smack of his body against mine almost in competition to overcome the sound of our combined moans and groans and the soft sucks and slurps every single time his mouth conquered mine. He licked his lips and his jaw clenched, I got the feeling he was holding back and holding off and I dug my heels into his ass, driving him even deeper inside. He groaned against my skin, “Fuck. C’mon, princess. Let go.” as my orgasm shattered through and it pushed him over the edge too, his cock pulsing, my walls vising tight around it as we clung to each other and tried to catch our breath.

After peppering my face and neck and collarbone with kisses, he flopped onto the mattress next to me, rolling onto his side, trailing those thick fingertips slowly over my bare skin as he stared down at me. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We’re okay.” I yawned out, rolling onto my side to face him, slipping my leg over his hip. He raised his hand, gliding it slowly over my thigh, gingerly trailing his fingertips over a few light bruises his hands and fingers left behind on my body. 

“You sleepy, baby girl?” he laughed, teasing me a little as my eyes started to get heavy...