#they adjust and end up alright in the end

[lynnthefrenchtoast]

"shen yuan transmigrates into one of binghes wives instead of shen qingqiu" au where shen yuan is, actually, completely fine with this arrangement. like ok yeah the boobs were a bit of an adjustment, but getting to experience a xianxia fantasy world? getting to be extraordinarily beautiful all the time with zero effort? access to the biggest library in the world, just across the courtyard? being able to see his favourite characters in 3D?

three months pass and he's not even a little bored.

the "gilded cage" thing doesnt bother him either, because number one NEET and introvert shen yuan is very used to confining himself to a single space voluntarily. said space was also 100 times smaller than a palace, and he wasnt coughing every moment now!

case and point: shen yuan is having a lovely time as a wife before meeting binghe.

and then he meets binghe. and he looks cool, and handsome, and strong, blablabla, but he also looks... rough.

and, well, that's his binghe alright!? not in a weird wife way, but in a totally heterosexual "you're my favourite fictional character" way. sure, he's read every book in the palace about binghe by now, but that's not creepy! it's just what he's used to! sue him if he sees his favourite character suffering and kind of wants to help out...

cue shen yuan reforming the palace structure (with the help of ning yingying, who just adores him by this point. this sweet little thing who receives none of her a-luo's attention but so obviously loves him.) to make binghe's life easier. stupid small inventions that make life so convenient but that no one in this world could even think of (luo binghe is baffled at the xianxia-equivalent of a hairdryer that appears in his bathroom one day.)

it's only when a wife plot hits that luo binghe finally, formally meets shen yuan. bro wakes up from a near death experience and bam: the heavenly demon emperor is at his bedside.

but binghe's only there out of necessity and once shen yuan has waken up and shown to be in good health, he leaves. but as he leaves, he offhandedly mentions a detail - a clan - and it jolts shen yuan's memory, and he sits up from the sick bed and exclaims out of the blue, "don't trade with that clan!"

(when the clan ends up betraying binghe, and simultaneously, binghe is informed of the genius inventor who's been going around making the castle feel warmer...)

shen yuan gets his first night-visit from luo binghe. it is framed as a "reward for my wife's dutiful efforts." they make it about five minutes before shen yuan looks so uncomfortable that binghe leaves before a single kiss transpires.

cue normal bingqiu misunderstanding shenanigans. shen yuan showering binghe with all the love he doesnt know he has, and binghe eager to reciprocate this love in the only way he knows how, only to get totally shot down each time. "if you dont want me to kiss you, why are you taking care of me!??" shen yuan sees no problem with this.

[hypnzo]

can I please request a fic where Percy is teasing his girlfriend and being sarcastic and she’s getting mad at him and he just laughs and continues? please and thank you

Sweeter than Ice cream : “Oops”

Percy Jackson x Reader (Implied female reader)

Warning !! English is not my first language, there might be some mischaracterization.

Really, you didn't want to end up in this place at all, but somehow your boyfriend, Percy Jackson, just managed to drag you in along on one of his antics.

“Percy–”

“Relax, I got you,” he chuckled lightly, his hold on you never faltering as he carefully dragged you into the ocean.

Apparently, ever since you've opened up to Percy about being incapable of swimming, he unfortunately took it seriously and made it one of his life missions to help you learn.

Oftentimes, he'd let go of his hold on you which made you squeal, causing him to jolt back his hold on you as you glared at him.

“Angel, you're not gonna learn anytime soon if you just cling onto me.” he says, raising an eyebrow with that little smug look on his face.

“I never even wanted to learn!”

“...Well, then think of it as hanging out time?” he reasoned with an idiotic grin, that you wanted to both kiss and swat so badly out of his face.

He started to drag you in deeper, his hold getting more and more gentle and loose, only for you to hold your legs around his waist to support you, your glare never faltering.

“I've got you!” he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss on your temple while he tugged your hair strand around your ear, earning a quick huff from you.

“Just take it easy, I'm not going to let you drown.”

After a few moments of silence, you began to calm down your nerves, though you kept your hold on him.

You held out to his hands as he guided you more deeper into the ocean, letting you adjust from whatever fear you were having.

He sneakily let go of your hand as you swam through, honestly, you really didn't notice it. However.. the moment you did, you immediately panicked.

You tried to call him, but before you could even form out his name in the bubbles, he immediately swam through and helped you get back on the water surface.

“Sorry about that, pretty,” he says sheepishly, feeling bad while he presses a kiss on your lips.

“...Ugh, I need a break,” you closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his water-cooled body.

“Alright, that we will do.” he says as he swam through while his hold remained wrapped around you.

After you both surfaced away from the ocean, Percy wrapped a towel around you, the breeze hitting you coldly while the water dries on your body.

“You feeling okay?” he asked as he curls your hair around your ear.

“Yeah.” you sighed as you both walked, his arm gently wrapping around you, occasionally squeezing your shoulders as you both strolled around the sand.

While you both walked side-by-side, there was a vendor nearby, it seems to be selling ice cream, which you thought was really nice especially for this weather.

Percy caught the ice cream vendor and decided to go and buy some ice cream for the two of you.

“Is it good?” he asked as he grabbed his order of blueberry ice cream, averting his gaze towards you.

You didn't feel like speaking but you nodded in response, when suddenly, he pushed his ice cream slightly closer to you.

“You want some?”

“I'm fine.”

“Alright then.”

After some minutes passed, you both just sat beside each other, watching the sunset, arms tangled around each other.

You weren't expecting to finish your ice cream immediately, but now... Well, the weather was still hot regardless of the sunset, and you couldn't help but glance over at Percy who still had his ice cream in hand.

“What? Is there something on my face?”

“No.”

“Am I too handsome?”

You blinked, your face being replaced with disbelief that spoke words without exactly saying any. You laid your head on his shoulder before you muttered your answer.

“Not that.”

“So I am handsome,” he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, nudging you slightly as if to tease you a little.

“Mm...” you hummed in response, but all you could think about was the ice cream he's holding.

Suddenly, as if he could read your mind, he looked at you, handing you the ice cream he was eating earlier, “you want some?”

You didn't say anything but you opened your mouth, closing it to the ice cream, when suddenly you felt nothing.

You blinked, feeling confused, only to see that Percy moved his ice cream away, as he licked it in front of you. “Hm, gotta hear you. Yes or no?”

You glanced at him from the side as you grumbled a little bit from his teasing. You had a feeling of what he was trying to do, but pushed it off your head, though you were slightly skeptical.

“Yeah, I want some.”

“There you go,” he grinned, handing it back to you, letting it close to you to give you a tiny taste.

Just as you were about to taste the ice cream, he immediately swooned it over, not letting you take even a small taste. You blinked once more and suddenly the ice cream was gone in front of you.

Seeing what happened, you squinted at him, feeling skeptical, while he calmly eats the ice cream like he wasn't just bantering with you.

“Percy.”

“Hm? Oh, oops, you didn't get a taste?”

He gave it once more to you, but you refused it this time, he grinned and pressed a soft kiss on your temple.

“I was only joking! Here, for real this time,” he says, waving the ice cream in front of your eyes, as if to tempt you, “cross my heart.”

You eyed the ice cream but soon averted your eyes to him. “...I don't trust you.”

“I swear!”

You locked his wrist in your hand so that he'd be unable to move away. Just as you were about to nibble a taste, he suddenly pressed a kiss on your forehead which caught you off guard, making you falter your grip on his wrist.

He took the opportunity to immediately move his hands away from you, not giving you the chance to even catch a tiny taste of his ice cream

”Percy!”

“Thanks for the kiss, angel.”

...

You crossed your arms, having no time to spare for his sarcasm and teasing, when suddenly you felt him kiss you on the cheek.

“I'm kidding, here you go.”

“I don't want it anymore.”

“Sweetheart,” he chuckled lightly, holding your hand as if to guide you to hold onto the ice cream cone. “There, no more frowning at me, okay?”

You looked at the ice cream in your hand. You held it close and you finally managed to nibble a taste.

You laid your weight on him, letting him hold you close while he occasionally pressed soft kisses on your head as his hand massaged through your scalp.

“Thanks, Percy...”

“I'd prefer an ‘I love you, handsome.’”

“Too corny.”

You felt him feign a frown against your head, causing you to chuckle lightly as you taste the ice cream once more.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, Percy.”

“Atta girl.” he smiled against your hair, pressing one last kiss on your head. “I love you, too.”

Have a request? Feel free to send one in!

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Friendship In Escape

Summary: Steve Rogers x fe!Reader -> After escaping a party, you meet Steve Rogers. It's in a simple conversation, you and him find common ground and from that a friendship grows. Question is, will either of you ever find the courage to act of the underlying feelings?

Disclaimer: This is a LONG one. Spoilers ahead for most of the main Captain America/Avengers films from The Avengers. Also, there's probably a lot of plot holes in this fic so we're just gonna ignore them. Slow, slow burn. Angst-y moments. Found family, fluff, taking care of each other. Some swearing. Reader helps Steve adjust to the modern world. Lots of hugging. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes but we're gonna ignore them, too (it's late and I'm pretty sure my brain is fried). Hope you enjoy it <3 Not proof read.

The party had been humming to life for an hour or more before the honorable host finally showed his face. Dawned in a big name branded suit, Tony Stark stood at the top of the stairs, calling for people to start the party. 

There was meant to be music, laughter, too many drinks and a fight he’ll be able to tell a story about at the next party. And you were sure, by the end of the night, he’d get his wish. 

This party in particular had been the third you’d been dragged along to in the space of a month. It hadn’t changed since you were a child. 

Posh names belonging to posh people with deep pockets and, when the time called for it, had long arms, too. The amount of money that was gathered from parties like this were worth the events being held. 

But never once had you felt comfortable. 

It wasn’t the shoes or the dress. In fact, getting ready was the best part of the night. But being dragged to the same people, with the same stories, being told about the same single people in their family, their sons, nephews, cousins. Being told to stand and take a picture with a smile that will let everyone know how fun the parties are. 

But they weren’t. 

For others they were. But for you? You had more fun spending time alone in the libraries at University, studying, answering company emails and working, mostly, from behind the curtain. 

If you could have done that, you would have avoided the parties all together. Relationships with other businesses were already solidified and had been for almost fifty years. 

So, after the fourth hour of walking around the gala room, standing and being forced to listen to the same conversations that you’d heard your whole life, listening to people be more interested in what Tony Stark had placed around his hosting room, and being introduced to another twenty something with a multi-billion dollar company behind his family’s name, but no integrity, you found your escape. 

“Darling, where are you going?” Your mother asked as you handed her your drink. 

“Just to the bathroom.”

She gave you a smile. “Hurry back. Sandra told me she’s bringing her cousin. Special invite from Mr Stark himself.”

You forced your millionth smile of the night and nodded. “Will do.”

As you took the stairs up towards the upper floors and bathrooms, you looked down over the edge of the balcony. They were preoccupied, listening to somebody’s story. 

Rather than taking a right, you took a left, bumping into a waitress. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Can I help you with something?”

You looked around you. “Just promise you didn’t see me. I need a break.”

The waitress just smiled. “There’s some rooms that haven't been decorated yet. Just take a right at the end of the hall.”

You looked down the hall, looked back and smiled at her. The first genuine smile of the evening. 

“Thank you.”

She shrugged. “This is my fifth party helping the host. We all need a break every once in a while.”

You thanked her again before walking down the hall. The minute you turned the corner, the party seemed like it was miles away. Every once in a while, you heard a roar of laughter but it never got any louder than that. 

With a sigh of relief, you decided to explore the different rooms. Some had tarp over the entrances, the insides not being suitable to survive at least an hour in. From holes in the floors to fresh paint fumes and drying plaster. 

But then one at the very end of the hall had a door. So, taking your chance, you opened it. 

“Oh!”

Inside stood a man dressed in a woolen style suit, his tie loose around his neck. He looked as if he’d been pacing and deep in thought before you’d opened the door. 

“I-” You looked around you, fearful you were about to get into trouble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone- Sorry.”

“Trying to escape the party, too?”

You stopped trying to close the door and looked at him. You couldn’t put your finger on it; maybe it was the way he stood, maybe it was the tone in his voice or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, but you saw something trustworthy in him. 

An unlikely friend in a place where you had none. 

“What gave it away?”

He smiled, softly. “You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.”

You stepped inside. “Thank you.”

“I- I’m Steve, by the way.” He held out his hand and you shook it. 

“Y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

For the second time that evening, you gave a genuine smile. “Likewise. So, what are you hiding from? A match-making mother, or a business minded father?”

“Neither.” Steve laughed a little. 

You walked further into the room before finding a spot with less sawdust on the ground. You’d been on your feet for a long time. You found the perfect spot against a wall between two windows. 

“Wow,” you brushed what sawdust you could with your feet before turning around and tucking the skirt of your dress down. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

He chuckled. “Not a big one.”

You shrugged, stretching your legs out and crossing them at your ankles. You patted the ground beside you. “My parents want me to socialise. I’d say talking with you qualifies as that. I’ve got time.”

Steve smiled as he watched you, finally agreeing to sit beside you. 

And for the first time in almost a month, you weren’t bored. 

Talking and listening to Steve didn’t make you so bored out of your mind you would have rather ran a cross country race. Talking with Steve was the first time you felt comfortable at one of these fancy galas. 

You’d come to learn that he was, in fact, the man they’d dug out of the ice. That he was the soldier lost to time, being forced into a new century without any idea how to deal with it. 

“I know a little of what that’s like,” you admitted to him. “To feel lost. I’ve been attending different parties like this since I was a kid. And never once have I felt comfortable attending them. I can talk to everyone in the room and feel completely loney, but I can sit on my own in a quiet place like this and…feel comfortable and be myself.”

“I had that once.” Steve told you. “I’d say back home, but I’m still in the same country. To be honest, I don’t know what anything is outside of this room.”

Then an idea popped into your head. “I could help.”

“How?” 

You shrugged. “I could help you adjust. I’m no therapist but I know how most things work in the 21st century. Movies, media, books. You said they gave you a document packet?”

Steve nodded, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a folded over thick document. 

“With all the stores and street names, I don’t recognise anything anymore.”

Opening it up, Steve handed it to you. It had an address, some pictures, different appointments and different wifi codes. 

“I know where this is.”

“You do?” Steve seemed surprised. They’d given him the address three days ago with no instruction on how to find it. They just told him something about Google Maps. Whatever a Google was. 

You nodded. “It looks kinda old.”

Steve shrugged. “‘Guess it’s their way of giving me some familiarity.” 

You shook your head. “When do you move in?”

“End of the week.”

“I’ve got a meeting in the morning, but I can take the rest of the day – help you move in, if you’d like.”

Steve looked at you. “You’d really do that for me?”

You handed his document back and nodded. “I would. Just because you were given an image for them to control, doesn’t mean that they should take advantage of the person you are behind it all.”

“That’s really kind of you, ma’am.” 

You smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

For an hour more, you and Steve just talked. Filled with quiet laughter and genuine smiles, you and Steve found an unlikely friendship in each other that evening. 

A friendship that would only grow stronger and stronger over the years. 

At the end of that week, you met Steve outside the SI building before walking with him towards the underground and pointing out different landmarks for him to recognise. A university campus, a museum, a deli store that served the best sandwiches. You explained about the times for the trains that headed towards the different states. Finally, walking down the different streets, Steve started to recognise a few different places. New businesses stood in their places, but the bricks around them were the same. 

“Pretty sure I got beat up in that alley.”

You followed Steve’s eye-line before looking back at him. “Bet your mom was beside herself with the amount of times you came home with a black eye.”

Steve held a reminiscent smile on his face as he looked at his shoes. “Just a kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb enough to run away from the fight.”

You watched Steve for a moment; something in his tone told you those weren’t just his words. 

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

You took Steve’s hand, leading him down the street before you both arrived at the apartment block. A couple of younger kids were playing out in the street, kicking a football around until they scored it round the corner of the building, one of their mother’s yelling to play in the back. 

A guy with a coffee cart served passers by heading back from their lunch break, on the corner. 

Unlocking the front door, you and Steve walked up the first few flights of stairs before finally reaching his new home. 

As Steve opened up the door and walked inside, he was met with a living space that probably hadn’t had someone live there…maybe ever. The furniture seemed old, the kitchen table was rusting a little at the bottom of the legs and the curtains had seen better days. 

A few boxes had been stacked by the entrance way with different labels scribbled on them. 

You rifled through them. “Bed sheets, books, clothes.”

You took a note of the size label. “You know, I think one of my friends might have some clothes you’d like. She runs a clothing company that does everything from a vintage style to modern day. I’m sure she’d love to let you rifle through her products; see if there’s anything you’d like to take off her hands.”

You turned around but Steve hadn’t been listening. Instead, he’d been focusing on the case files that were strewn across the kitchen table. 

Standing beside him, keeping your eye on his reactions, you looked down at the table before you came across a picture. You had to take a breath. 

Steve had told you a little about his friends from the war. The Howling Commandos. 

“Is that them?”

Steve nodded.

It took Steve a while to get used to his new apartment, but with your help, he found it becoming a home. You helped him change the bedsheets and work out his washing machine before putting your phone number into his phone. 

“Think of it like a telegram,” you told him. “But rather than waiting weeks to hear back, it’s almost instantly.”

In the weeks that followed, you met Steve at his apartment every few days. On the weekends, you showed him around some of the thrift stores where he’d found a new kitchen table and some dishes to use in the kitchen. 

One of your friends – the same friend that ran a clothing company – had delivered some new curtains. They were plain, but they were better than the ones Steve had been left with. 

Meanwhile, Steve found an old gym where he could spend his evenings and, with your help, had figured out the basics of a phone and computer. 

The one Shield had given him was far too high tech, even for you. So, you had brought Steve one of your old ones. It was still pretty modern, but it was a lot simpler to use than the Stark Industries issued one. 

Then he got pulled into helping Shield with a threat that, to him, would have been best left in the ocean. 

News reports came in thick and fast during the attack on New York. You hadn’t heard from Steve during it, until you nearly ran into him in the middle of the street as mechanical…whatever the hell they were, were flying through the sky. 

“Why are you still in the city?! Everyone needs to get out.”

You nodded. “I know, but people needed help.” You looked down at his shield. “You know how to use that?”

Steve nodded. 

“Can you break a lock with it?”

Steve followed you as you ran down an alley before disappearing around the corner and to an employee entrance. Neither you or Steve could tell what had welded a lock shut, but considering some kind of blue weapon lay not too far out in the middle of the street with similar residue being left of the door, you could only gather it had been some alien technology. 

It took a few tries but the lock finally busted open and a bunch of parents with their kids came flooding out of the doors. As you and Steve started directing people to safety out of the city, you saw the way the kids looked up at Steve. 

The whole image of Captain America had been controlled by the government, making him an image away from Steve Rogers. But nothing could control the way those kids looked up at Steve as their hero. 

A comic book hero that existed in real life. 

“Ma’am, is that everyone?” Steve asked one of the women that left the room. 

She seemed distressed as she looked around. “I-I think so.” Then she ran off with the others. 

Something in your gut told you to check the rest of the room, and Steve followed you inside. 

“Go! Help the others! I can look after myself.”

“But-”

“Steve.” You looked at him. “Go. They need you.”

It took him a minute but he took your word for it and ran back out of the door. Meanwhile, you checked under every table and desk before something caught your eye at the side of one of the cabinets. 

A kid, no older than six. 

“Hey, honey.”

“Mommy was meant to pick me up.”

You looked around, hearing something hit a building nearby. 

“I’ll help you look for her. Can I pick you up?” The kid nodded. “I’m Y/n, what’s your name?”

“Sophie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie. Come on, let's go and find your mom.”

After three hours of destruction over the city, and countless injuries being collected by people, it wasn’t until a mom came running through the crowds of EMTs and doctors, screaming out for her child that you and Sophie, sitting in the back of an ambulance, looked up. 

And Sophie called out. 

Jumping from the bench, Sophie looked outside and saw her mom running through the crowd. You watched as they collided and sank to the ground. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why aren’t you with the rest of your class? Where are they?”

“Hey,” you said, walking behind Sophie. “They got separated when trying to clear the city.”

“Did you save her?”

“I got her out-” Suddenly, the mom crushed you with a hug. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I-” The tears continued to flow from her eyes. 

“It’s alright. All that matters is that she’s safe.”

“Thank you so much.”

Hours later, you had finally made it back home, had showered and switched your TV on. The news had been following updates and different people’s theories of what had happened. 

Then a knock came to your door. 

Upon opening it, you were greeted with a fresher looking Steve Rogers. 

“Shouldn’t you be with a medic?”

Steve smiled, “Shouldn’t you? Between the pair of us, I’m the one who has a serum running through their veins.”

You looked in his hand. “Is that a pizza?”

Steve nodded. “Didn’t know which kind you’d like, so I got the classic. Figured you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Inviting him inside, Steve laid it on the coffee table. 

“Shouldn’t you be helping The Avengers or something?”

“Avengers?” Steve looked at you with a curious look. 

You just pointed at the screen. “Oh, right. Yeah, we’ve all decided to take a break. But Shield tells me they’ve finally found me a job.”

“That’s something to celebrate.”

Steve shrugged. “Kinda hard to celebrate when an entire city almost got levelled to the ground.”

You understood. “I’m gonna head back tomorrow and see if they need any help.”

“Can I come with you?” 

“You don’t have to ask, Steve.”

He smiled, if a little sheepishly. 

For the rest of the evening, you and Steve shared a pizza and talked until neither of you wanted to say anything else. 

So, you picked out a film and placed it into the DVD player. And you and Steve just sat and watched it. 

As the months passed, you and Steve slipped into a familiar routine. He got better at texting, but you’d come to find he preferred to call. And during the days he was at the training facility in Washington and devoid of signal, he’d write you letters. 

And you wrote them back. 

He’d also started keeping a list, you’d noticed, of things you’d say in passing or you’d tell him to listen to or watch. 

On the quiet afternoons you spent together, Steve would open up more. He told you more about the 40s and being in the army. He told you more about his childhood and his best friend, Bucky. 

You’d surprised him one afternoon by taking him to the Smithsonian. They had a new exhibit put up – one pillar being dedicated to Bucky and his friendship with Steve. 

In one of his final letters, he’d told you of a man he’d basically been trolling on his morning runs. You’d come to find out his name and you smiled. 

Outside of you and the members of his team, Sam Wilson was the first friend Steve had made. 

However, you didn’t get to meet him in person until you got a call from him, under Steve’s contact. Of course, the minute the headline had flashed on your screen, you’d tried to get into contact with him. He’d fallen, or rather, jumped, from an elevator and fallen a hundred feet or more to the ground. His own work seemed to be after him. 

So, when you were told he’d fallen, once more, from one of the jets and had been in surgery, you rushed to him. 

Entering his room, Natasha had been the one to take you to his room after two nurses read your name on his file but wouldn’t let you through. 

“He’s alive, as you can see.”

“If I get a call like this again, telling me you’re dead, I’ll kill you myself.” You warned Steve before you walked to his side. The bastard had the audacity to chuckle. 

“I promise. If I’m gonna die, I’ll ask your permission first.”

From behind you, you heard a voice smile. “I like her.”

“Y/n, this is Sam. Sam, this is Y/n.”

From that day on, the movie and pizza nights came to include both Sam and Natasha. However, unbeknownst to you and Steve, the movie nights also came to include the rest of the team. 

Natasha had been trained to read people. And she’d never read anyone easier than you and Steve. 

And her information soon became Clint’s information which soon became everyone’s information when he accidentally let it slip to the others. 

Tony had been planning a party. Rather, he wanted to throw one and Pepper had come up with a list of people to invite. And when she read out your name, Steve had looked up but Clint had spoken first. 

“Is that Steve’s girl?”

They all looked around at each other before looking at Steve. He had a girl?

Steve faltered. “Yes, well, no. She’s my friend. We’re friends but-”

Tony turned to Pepper. “Invite Steve’s girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends. And she doesn’t really like big parties so-”

“Invite her anyway. I can’t believe Clint knows about her before we do.” Then he turned to Natasha. “I suppose you already knew.”

She just nodded. 

And that was just the start of it. 

A few nights later, Steve had given you a heads up which you appreciated but it did put you on edge a little. But all in all, it was…fun. 

It was the first time you enjoyed yourself at a party and didn’t hate every minute of it. 

Firstly, the attire was fancy but not gala fancy. It was a celebration of Hydra finally being overthrown from Shield.

You arrived in your heels that didn’t hurt your feet so much, wide legged trousers and a graphic t-shirt. 

“Now, who is that?”

At the bar, Rhodey, Thor, Tony and Maria all stood watching as you entered the room, clearly looking for someone. Tony and Rhodey had met most of the building at the party. Maria had met them all – at the very least, she had a file on them all. 

But not on you. 

From behind the bar, Natasha leaned over. “That’s Steve’s girl.”

From the bar they watched as Sam noticed you first and called you over. You looked relieved at seeing a familiar face. Even more relieved at seeing Steve. Tony watched as Steve noticed you, too. 

The game of pool Steve had been winning at suddenly took a dip as his aim went off kilter, his attention immediately going to you. 

“Steve has a woman?” Thor asked, the other just nodded. “Well, we must meet her.”

However, as they all went to walk towards the pool table, Maria reached her hand out. “You boys swarm her, Steve will make sure you never get to speak to her again. I will go.”

And so she did. 

The others watched on as Steve introduced you to Maria, every protective instinct a man got when introducing his girlfriend to the rest of his family going up. And somehow, with simple ease, Maria had gained a small part of your friendship and led you towards the second bar. 

Meanwhile, Steve watched as you walked away, the heart in his eyes never leaving. Not even when Sam nudged him and they got back to the game. 

Throughout the night, Steve kept his eye on you. 

He almost broke the sound barrier by how quickly he turned up at your side when you were dragged into the conversation circle with most of them. 

“So, tell me.” Tony said, sitting beside you. “How did you meet our fellow Captain?”

“Tony.” Steve warned, though no true malice could be traced in his voice. 

You smiled. “It’s okay. We actually met at one of your parties.”

Tony sat back. “Really?”

You nodded. “Some fancy gala a few years back.”

Conversation between yourself and the rest of the group seemed to take a natural flow until eventually, all your nerves had subsided. 

But that didn’t stop you from needing a break by the end. Between talking with Natasha, Maria and Thor for most of the night, and beating Sam at a few rounds of pool – something Steve found incredibly entertaining,

Tony had backed Sam on his idea that you were cheating. Nobody won that many rounds of pool one after the other. So, as the others gathered and watched the game, Steve stepped forward and he covered your eyes. 

For a moment you looked up at him and smirked, and he smiled back with a light shrug of his shoulders. 

“Yes, thank you, Cap.” Sam said. “See. This will prove that she’s cheat-”

As you hit the white cue ball, everyone watched and was left speechless as every ball suddenly found its home in the pockets, leaving you with an automatic victory. 

Opening your eyes once more and standing up, you looked at the pool table with a proud look before looking at Sam. You’d never seen him as shocked. Looking at Steve, he seemed shocked but also proud. 

“Still think I’m cheating?” 

Tony just looked at you. “She’s a witch. She had to be. Were you cursed as a child? Born to some Vampire in Europe or something?”

Steve chuckled, as did you. 

“Come on, Tony. Accept your defeat.”

As the hours passed, eventually you found yourself outside on the balcony, taking a breather from the party. 

“Figured you’d find some place quiet.”

You stood back up, holding onto the balcony bar. “Hey.”

Steve smiled. “Hey. You okay? They can be a bit much.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not that. Just needed a minute. You know, this is the first time I’ve enjoyed myself at one of these?”

Steve looked up at the building before looking back at you with a smile on his face. “It is better when people aren’t trying to show you off.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for escaping the last one and finding me in that room.”

It was in that moment that you realised the last time you’d gone to any kind of gala or party of the same scale was the first time you’d met Steve. 

You smiled fondly at the memory. “Thanks for not being mad when I opened the door.”

“I could never be mad at you.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got a good judge of character.”

You felt yourself chuckle before you looked out across the rest of the city before a cold wind blew through making you shiver. 

“Here,” Steve shrugged off his jacket but before you could tell him you were fine, he placed it over your shoulders. 

It smelt of him. 

“Thanks.”

Steve just nodded with a smile watching as you placed your arms through the holes and wrapped it a little tighter around yourself before you looked out at the rest of the city with him. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is something going on between Maria and Sam?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “She’ll eat him alive.”

“He might be into that.” 

Steve laughed and closed his eyes in disgust. “What makes you ask?”

You shrugged. “Just something I’ve noticed. He looks at her like she hung the moon. Though, of course, that’s when she’s not looking. When she is, it's like I’m back at school rehearsing for Much Ado About Nothing.”

Steve’s joy widened. “You were in a play?”

You laughed. “I wasn’t any good. I was only put on stage because my folks donated so much money to the school. All I wanted was to work with Tech.”

Steve chuckled. “I’d pay good money to see that. But, I get what you mean about Sam and Maria. Who knows? If the timing is right…”

Steve looked at you and you felt something bigger was being hidden behind his words. Part of you certainly held out hope that there was. 

“We should probably get back inside.”

An hour later, most people had gone home so it was left with just Steve, yourself, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Maria, Tony, Rhodey and Thor. 

Still wearing Steve’s jacket, you were sitting in the middle of the sofa, your legs curled towards your chest. After he stood up, Steve came back and handed you a beer before he nudged your legs allowing him room to sit down before he pulled them across his lap. 

It was the standard procedure for you and him to sit on a sofa together. Mainly because his sofa in his old apartment had been small enough to do so. 

Despite changing apartments and the sofa, it was just something that stuck. 

The others took silent note of it as the debate continued between Thor and Clint over his hammer. 

By the time everyone was trying to lift it, Steve became one of the last. Sharing a look with you before looking at Thor, Steve stood up and tried to lift it. 

You watched as it squeaked on the table for a moment, but moved no further. However, your knowing grin – despite it never truly lifting from the table – caused you to look at Thor. 

He looked panic stricken. 

But Steve stood back and held his hands up. 

“Or…you’re all not worthy.”

“It’s still a trick!”

In the moments that followed, everyone turned to their own conversations; including you and Steve. 

But Clint and Natasha kept their eyes on you and Steve. Your legs over his lap, wearing his jacket, his focus solely on you, his hand rubbing lightly against the bottom of your leg that was exposed under your wide-legged trousers, your ever loving gaze on his that matched yours, light and soft smiles on your faces. 

“Ten bucks says they’ll be married in two years.” Clint whispered up to Natasha. 

“Deal.”

Something that Clint didn’t know, that Natasha did, was that you and Steve were fucking oblivious. 

They’d all be lucky if it happened in two years. 

Quite frankly, it should have happened two years ago. 

Suddenly, a high pitched noise rippled through the room. 

“Of course you’re not all worthy…”

Your eyes landed on an oil leaking…zombie robot?

His voice was deep and menacing and nothing about any of it felt comforting. 

“Steve?”

“Stark?”

“Jarvis?”

In a single turn of events you’d gone from laughing and joking with each other to suddenly defending yourself against a robot who claimed he’d killed someone. 

A swarm of them flew in through broken glass panels and Steve kicked up a table before any of them could hit either of you. 

You landed on the floor beside him, a little winded. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’m okay. Go, go, go. I’ll be fine.”

Steve helped you up before running off in the other direction. It was a whirlwind of blasts, bullets and shattered glass. 

At one point, one had you cornered as Tony unhooked another. And for a moment, you thought you’d be sent flying out of the window and out into the open before Steve took hold of it, throwing it back towards Thor before Clint threw him his shield. 

And it all ended as Thor sent his hammer flying through Ultron. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“Banner.” Tony called him over before they headed towards their lab. 

Meanwhile, Steve turned around before heading straight towards you and holding you in his arms, almost lifting you from the ground. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, letting the scent of him, his clothes, his jacket, calm you. 

“Yeah. Thanks for saving my life.”

Steve truly breathed for the first time since the high pitched noise had rang through the room. With a hand at the back of your head, he pressed a kiss to your temple and he closed his eyes. 

“Come on, let's go and find the others.”

However, as he took your hand, you pulled him back. “Steve.”

“Right, you-you’ll want to go home-”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. You’ve got glass in your arm.”

“Oh.”

“Does Tony have tweezers in his lab?”

Steve nodded. “I think so.”

Less than five minutes later, you sat Steve in one of the chairs, Bruce handing you and Maria a set of tweezers each. 

Staring with his arm, you plucked out the small fragments of glass before his skin healed over them, before holding his palm up to face you. Meanwhile, they began discussing the extinction of The Avengers and the possibility of nuclear codes getting out to the rest of the world.

Then rage got passed around the room. 

By the time morning rolled around, Steve drove you back home.

“Whatever happens…” You looked at Steve, a small voice in the back of your head begging for him to be imprinted in your memory as if he hadn’t already. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Steve nodded. “I promise. You’re the only one that can kill me, remember?”

You felt yourself laugh. At least he remembered. 

Looking at him again, you hugged him. “I mean it, Steve. Please be safe.”

He hugged you back, the feeling of him strong enough for you to still feel hours later. 

“I promise.”

Each day you didn’t hear from him was a little more worrisome than the last. And then when the media reported Shield helping evacuate people from a floating country…all you could do was hope Steve wasn’t one of the casualties. 

“Maybe I’ll take a leaf out of Barton’s book.”

“The simple life?”

“You’ll get there one day. Maybe you could get there with Y/n?”

Steve couldn’t deny he hadn’t thought about it once or twice. You and him. Together. More than friends. A part of him did think you felt it too. The same spark. Familiarity. The same love. 

“If something was gonna happen, it would have happened by now.” Steve told him. “Besides, I think the guy that wanted all that went into the ice seventy five years ago.”

Tony shrugged. “Don’t count on it. That guy is still there somewhere. See you ‘round, Rogers.”

As Tony drove away, Steve took in the building in front of him. And despite the acceptance he felt of being home, the idea of you and him…he figured that would always be with him. 

Even if it never happened. 

That night, Steve turned up outside your apartment with the next movie on his list and a case of soda. However, when you didn’t answer, he went in search of you. 

Opening the door to the roof, he looked around before spotting you in the very corner, sitting on the table of the picnic bench. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Looking around, you gave a sigh of relief at seeing him. He dropped the case on the table before you reached for him. 

“Thank god you’re okay.”

“How long have you been up here?”

“Since Nat called me and told me you’d landed. I couldn’t sit in my apartment anymore so…I came up here. Last time I looked out at the city was before everything went to hell.”

Steve looked out at the city himself before looking back at you. “We’re not out of the woods yet. Ross is probably about to reign hellfire down on…everyone.”

“What about the girl?”

“Wanda?”

You nodded. 

“I don’t know. She went through a lot, losing her home and her brother in one fowl sweep.” 

“You should train her.”

“What?”

“Train her,” you repeated. “You’re the only one who knows what it’s like to be in a war, to sign up to be experimented on. She’s gonna need someone who actually understands some of what she’s going through.”

Steve agreed with you. You had a point. 

“Tony can have a lot of influence and his heart can be in the right place but he doesn’t always remember that people didn’t have his childhood or his life.”

“He’s been through a lot.”

You agreed with Steve. “He has. But he’s never lost a brother, or his life to somebody’s cause. She’s gonna need help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The rest of the evening was spent talking over what had happened, what Steve had thought when the earth quite literally started to lift from beneath him, what had happened with Banner and Nat and then you gave him your news. 

Bucky had been spotted. 

The next time you saw Steve was at Agent Peggy Carter’s funeral. You sat at the back for most of it, watching as Steve helped carry the coffin and as people gave their eulogies. 

You didn't know much about Peggy Carter personally, though you could remember learning about her in school. The founder of Shield, working alongside Captain America in her early career. And from meeting Steve, you’d come to know more about her. As well as how deeply both she and Steve were in love. 

You’d seen the clips at the museum, and with Steve beside you, it gave them a whole other meaning. And even though Steve living through the ice and landing himself in the 21st century had given you one of the greatest friendships you’d ever had, part of you felt angry for him. 

Angry at the fact he missed out on his chance with Peggy and that she had to live a life where, as far as anyone knew, Steve was dead. 

A soldier and a love story left stranded in time. 

You could remember when Steve had first visited Peggy, again. 

And now he had to say goodbye, again. 

“It was a beautiful service.”

Steve looked up and down the aisle to where you were walking towards him. He felt the breath get knocked out of him. Or maybe back into him. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use a friendly face?”

 A silent conversation then took place between you and Steve. Silent conversations weren’t unusual between you. A thousand words could be said in a look, but you’d both understand.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen after I leave here-”

“No, I know. I know.” You understood completely. After he walked out of the church, Nat would be leaving without him. 

“Today’s been a lot. Tomorrow’s gonna be a lot.” You looked back at Steve. “Right now can just be…right now. You’ve lost someone, Steve. Right now you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You don’t have to be Captain America right now.” Your gaze turned to Peggy’s picture. “I might not have met her, but I know you and I both know she would be telling you, you don’t have to be Captain America right now. At this moment, you’re just Steve: World War Two veteran who has just lost a great love in their life and deserves a moment to breathe.”

Steve gave you a weak smile, his emotions building up in his chest. “Thank you.”

Stepping forward, you wrapped Steve in a comforting hug and for the next twenty minutes, you both stayed inside the church. 

There he told you the smaller facts about Peggy – the ones he’d learnt when she was with him and his Howling Commandos. 

But then the time came to leave. 

Walking down the different streets, hearing time tick away, you and Steve soaked up what time you could before everything was about to go to shit. 

And on a bench beside the River Thames, you and Steve said your goodbyes. Both of you knew something was going to go wrong. What that was exactly, neither of you could put your finger on it. But something was going to happen. 

It was only a matter of time. 

“Here.” 

“What’s this?”

Steve read the piece of paper. It was a set of coordinates. 

“I own a house. It’s in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Europe. If anything happens, Ross can’t touch you. The house had been in my family’s name for generations but one of my great aunt’s left it to me. It’s yours to use.”

“Y/n-”

“Take it, Steve. Nobody knows it exists so they won’t find you. It’s run down but there should be running water.”

Steve finally accepted it. “Thank you. You know, if Tony ever finds out about this, he’s gonna believe that you are a witch from a vampire family.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I am, you just don’t know it.”

Steve shrugged, pocketing the paper safely. 

“I’m gonna miss you.”

You took his hand. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

You tried your best to avoid the tears, but they were trying their hardest anyway. 

“Just promise me one thing, Steve.”

Steve nodded, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Be safe?”

You nodded. “Be safe.”

Your eyes locking with his, Steve decided to take a risk. There was a chance he might never be able to see you again. Whatever was going to happen, the first person they’d put a tail on would be you. 

He kissed you. 

With your hand on his lapel, you held him closer. It was short and bittersweet, but the memory of him and his kiss would forever be seared into your brain. 

And for a few moments, you just held onto each other, fearful of opening your eyes and accepting that one of you would have to walk away. 

With his finger, Steve gently brushed the stray hair from your face away and behind your ear before kissing you quickly for a second time. 

“One of us has to say goodbye.”

“I know,” you sniffed. “I know.”

“If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it's that you walked into that room when you did. You were the first person to treat me like one and to help me. Thank you for wanting to escape that party.”

You laughed through the tears. “You never have to thank me for that. It’s crazy to think I almost didn’t go.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.”

Looking at each other for one final time, you leaned in and kissed him. You prayed that his hand by your waist would leave a brand – a different pain to carry with you than the one in your heart. 

Feeling yourself stand, the kiss broke away and you were the first to say goodbye. 

Walking down the stone pavement, you looked behind you before you turned a corner, only to find Steve had already gone. Between the bustling people, the bench you’d both just been sitting at was exactly that. 

A bench. 

Going home, you tried to find a way to keep yourself busy but no matter where you looked, everything reminded you of him. The movies you’d watched with him, the ones you didn’t. The pizza’s shared, and soda spilt, the curtain, bedsheets, books, clothes, pictures. 

You had some of his artwork in your house. Some of them people, most of landscapes – people and places you’d seen together. 

And in an album under your bed, you had his letters. 

Each one in its original envelope on one page and the pictures he’d drawn of the skyline from wherever he’d been. 

Some evenings, you’d reread his letters – still able to hear his voice. 

Then the headlines started to roll in. 

Captain America was a fugitive and had broken his team out of a high secure facility. 

And for almost two years a hunt was put on for him. You were interviewed every couple of months with the same questions. 

Did you know where he was? Had he contacted you? What information did he share with you?

Just because you’d given him a set of coordinates didn’t mean he’d use them. The last time you’d heard from Steve was in London and the only information he’d shared with you that day was about Peggy Carter and some of the old stories of when he was first in London in the 40s. 

In the meantime, your parents had convinced you to attend different dinner parties, charity shows, fundraisers and galas, all the while helping you find a date. 

Most of the people your mother had first introduced you to years ago, they were recently married. But the single ones she’d found; you dated some, though it never went any further than a sixth date – usually the date after your parents invited them to attend dinner. 

But no matter the fancy meal, or the conversation, or the man; none of them could beat a pizza, soda, a movie and…

Steve. 

None of them could beat Steve. 

But that all changed one afternoon when you were gardening. 

Living in the city had reminded you too much of Steve, and with the constant reminders of the memories and new threats and superheroes popping up, you decided to find somewhere nice to live. 

Someplace…simple. 

So, buying a house outside of the city with a few acres of land, you started renovating. Any business meetings you had could be done online which meant you had more time to fix your new home up. 

The smell of plaster, paint and sawdust filled your home for most of the days until finally things started to come together. New windows and locks were installed, the faulty taps were fixed and finally the entire place was given a new lease of life. 

And just as you were half way through with fixing your garden; planting some flowers and digging patches for a small allotment, a car pulled up outside your drive. 

On your knees in the dirt, it took a moment for your eyes to focus on the person climbing out of the car in the distance. 

They were tall, broad and had a beard. 

However, the closer they got, memories started to kick in. The walk, the frame…

You stood up and walked closer until you stopped again, feeling the breath being knocked out of you. 

“Oh, my god…”

He watched as you stopped in your tracks, your brain confirming who he was. Then you started running. Across the grass and onto the gravel path, you collided with Steve. 

“This is you, I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Steve shook his head and he held onto you, the essence of you filling his senses. 

“No, you’re not dreaming.”

You leaned back and looked at him before hugging him again. 

Finally, Steve set you back onto your feet and his hands remained at your waist. 

“Why are you back? Last I heard…”

“The team and I are keeping our distance for a few days. Nat’s headed to Ohio and Sam is trying to see his sister. It’s the best way to avoid Ross.”

You nodded, checking him over. He didn’t seem like he was dying. 

With a hand on his cheek, you smiled a little, pointing out the obvious. “You grew a beard.”

Steve smiled a little. “Helps me blend in.”

You looked into his eyes and smiled. “It suits you.”

Holding gently onto your wrist, Steve turned his head and kissed your palm and for a second you closed your eyes, leaning into him. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Placing your hand over his heart, Steve seemed to bear into your soul. “So am I.”

What followed was two hours of conversation around where he’d been and what he’d been doing since he left, and what you had been doing. 

Then he started to help. Painting the porch on the back of the house as you continued planting in the back garden, you spent time together. 

Time that was all too precious knowing he was on a clock. 

“Where did you learn to cook?” You asked Steve as you helped him chop up veg. 

With a smile on his face, Steve continued to prepare dinner. “I have a contact in Scotland. Their aunt runs a cafe and needed a few extra hands in the kitchen.”

As you helped Steve prepare dinner, you listened to the stories he’d gathered over his time away. Scotland, Spain, Germany, Italy, England, Poland, Norway, and many others. 

Once dinner was finished, you started to clean up. But from the table, Steve looked at you standing by the sink in front of the window. 

You’d never left his thoughts. 

Sat on that bench in London, he watched you walk away and for a moment, he remained where he was. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to see you again – not without heavy restrictions. 

He wanted you so desperately to turn around, but if you did, he would have followed you. He would have stood up and ran after you. 

So he left. 

He left before you could look around, he left before he would stop fighting himself and follow you. 

And each day he woke up, for the few moments in the morning where he would forget what had happened, where he would forget the world he’d been found in, he thought about you. He thought about calling you or writing you a letter. He thought about seeing you when he’d roll over in bed. But each time…

You weren’t there. 

You weren’t with him. 

You were at your home, thousands of miles from him. 

And he had no way of talking to you. 

Walking across the kitchen floor to you, he placed a hand on your waist before reaching across to the window cill. 

“What are you doing?” You smiled. 

Looking at you and turning up the dial, Steve smiled. “Come with me.”

Taking the cloth from your hand, Steve dropped it back into the bowl of soapy water and took your hand in his. Then, pulling you into the middle of the kitchen with him, you both started to slow dance. 

“What’s this for?”

Steve shrugged, holding your hand over his heart once again. “I don’t know how long I’ve got with you. Figured we could spend it not washing up.”

You felt yourself smile. “I think I like that.”

It was soft and slow. Swaying with the beat until the radio turned static, you and Steve remained in each other's arms. 

“Can you stay the night?”

Steve nodded. 

“Good.”

The night soon settled over your home, the stars slowly emerging from behind the clouds. With your porch taking on a blue hue in its own shadow, you and Steve sat side by side on your porch swing. 

Your hair still a little damp from your shower, Steve continued to run his fingers through it. And with your head on his chest, you let his heart beat calm you. For a moment, Steve turned his nose into your hair and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

After a few moments, he didn’t say anything. Not that you would have heard anything considering your body was begging for sleep. 

Carefully standing, Steve slipped one of his arms around your back and one under your legs before carrying you inside. He tucked you under your bed covers before making his rounds, locking up the doors and windows. Finally, he got in beside you. 

For years, he’d dreamed of it. 

Being with you, by your side, a domestic and loving day before laying beside you knowing he would be waking up beside you every morning. 

And Steve smiled as in your sleep you moved closer to him, your arms wrapping across his middle. 

You couldn’t remember when you’d gone from the porch to your bed, but you could remember Steve. Feeling his arms around you, his heartbeat under your cheek, his lips on yours…

“Hey,”

Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed by your legs, fully dressed. 

“Hey, what time is it?”

Steve kept his eyes on you. “A little after four.”

You gave a groan and closed your eyes again. Steve chuckled. Reaching out, he gently swept the hair from your eyes, your head turning towards him. With his hand on your cheek, he felt your smile. 

It was your turn to hold onto him and kiss his palm. 

And just as the knowing sadness started to grow, Steve still smiled, leaning forward and kissed you. 

You would never get bored of his kiss.

Peppering it out, you held onto his face before your hands slipped around his back and you held him closer. 

With a sigh, Steve held you closer to him, trying to imprint the feeling of you in his arms. 

Trying your best to ignore the growing tears, you spoke. 

“Just promise me you’ll be safe?”

Steve chuckled a little. “You know you’re the only one who's allowed to kill me. But I promise.”

“Good.”

Holding on a little tighter, you silently begged for more time with him. But the clock was ticking. 

From above, there was deep rumbling. 

“You better go,” you told Steve. 

It took him a moment before he let go and with one final kiss, it was his turn to say goodbye. 

Hearing his boots walk across the floor of your bedroom, down the hallway, through the living room and towards your front door. 

You heard his pause for a moment and in that moment, you wondered what he would do if you called out for him. 

But he couldn’t stay any longer. 

People needed him. 

The world needed him. 

Hearing your front door click open, Steve’s footsteps trailed off as it closed once more until eventually the only sound that was left was the ever quieting sound of a rumbling jet engine.

Six months later, half of the world disappeared. 

With a snap of Thanos’ fingers, Steve watched as half of his team, his family, disappeared. And upon returning back to the Avengers’ compound, you were his first call. 

Only, you never answered. 

“Go.” Natasha told him. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

Making a break for it, Steve ran down into the garage before hopping on his bike. He’d made it to yours in half the time. 

Pulling up, he started calling out for you. His voice filled with desperation and fear, he ran up to your front door. 

It was unlocked. 

He almost tripped inside as he tried the door, the hinges getting stuck. 

“Y/N!”

He raced around your home; checking the kitchen, living room, pantry, washing room, office, bathroom, and the bedrooms before finally reaching yours. 

The bedding was strewn a little, the soft lines of the fitted sheet folded into where you would have been laying. The pain in Steve’s chest seemed to grow heavier by the minute. 

You weren’t here. 

One hand on his hip, another covering his mouth, Steve turned around in a slow circle. Tears pricking at his eyes, his mind had gone from running a thousand miles a minute to…being completely overrun by pain. 

He had nearly a thousand chances to be with you, to share a life with you that he’d always dreamed of – all before everything went to hell. 

But it was too late. 

You were gone. 

Just like half of the world, you were gone. 

Gripping onto the cold metal of your bed frame, Steve tried to steady himself. 

You were gone. 

Somewhere behind him, he heard a click. 

His entire body stilled. 

Slowly turning around he found…

No one. 

Somewhere down the hall, a door closed. 

As quietly as he could, Steve walked from your bedroom and down the hallway. The noises started to compile together. 

Shoes shuffling, a bag being thrown onto a counter, a bucket handle rattling against itself. 

From a corner, Steve saw an apron thrown across the back of a kitchen chair. A tap started to pour before someone switched it off. 

Then someone started to hum. 

You started to hum. 

Fully stepping into the kitchen doorway, Steve felt the entire life get knocked back into him. 

Then you turned around. 

He scared the shit out of you. 

The bucket slipping out of your hand, it knocked against your sink, the water spilling down the drain. 

Just as it did, you recognised him. 

Rushing forward, Steve enveloped you into his arms, your feet lifting from the ground. 

“You’re alive,” you breathed. 

“I thought you were gone.” Steve mumbled into your shoulder, holding onto you tighter. 

“Steve, what’s going on?”

“He won.” 

Steve set you back down on your feet and for the first time in almost seven months, you finally got a good look at him. He looked tired, worn. Beaten. 

“We almost did it, but he won.”

“Whose left?”

Steve tried his best to name those who were left. 

“We think Tony’s gone but we can’t be sure.”

The tears were falling from Steve’s cheeks as he told you. Wiping them away, you pulled him back into a hug. 

“I tried calling you but when you didn’t answer…” You could feel Steve’s entire body shaking under you. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer. Steve, honey, you need to sit down. Let me get you some water.”

As you sat him down, Steve watched as you moved around your kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, running the tap until it was cold before handing it to him. 

“I’ll make you some food. When did you last eat? You should call Nat.”

“Right.”

After calling and updating Nat, Steve hung up the phone. And for the next few hours, Steve talked you through everything he could; right up to him running through your door. 

In the months that followed, a transition started to take place. People had to get used to a world where half of the people they loved were gone. 

And somewhere between Steve finding you in your kitchen and Tony and Pepper having their daughter, yourself and Steve finally came together. 

Properly. 

This time there were no goodbye kisses and fear of never seeing each other again. That biggest fear had been and gone. 

What you were left with was…acceptance. 

Acceptance that you had both almost completely lost each other for good. There was no point in avoiding feelings, or being scared of what might happen. 

You both had a chance at a life together. 

So you both took it. 

From then on your home with Steve became interchangeable between the Avengers compound and your house. Saving her from the lifetime supply of peanut butter sandwiches, you dragged Natasha when you could to your home with Steve and made her a decent meal. 

Being out in the open also gave her a breath of fresh air away from the training facility walls that never changed colour. 

And eventually things…settled. 

People found a new way of life, coming back each year to celebrate those who were lost. And then new life was brought into the mix. 

Not too long after Pepper had given birth to Morgan, you were faced with a positive pregnancy test result yourself. 

And Natasha was your first call. 

“What’s going on? I have an extra gun in the car if we need it.”

You showed it to her. “What does that show?”

“Holy shit, you’re pregnant.”

A small whimper left your lips as you handed her the test stick and started pacing around your bathroom. 

“Are…are we not happy about that?”

You whimpered again as you paced up and down. “I-I don’t know. We-we haven’t planned anything. I mean, we’ve talked about it a few times but what if something goes wrong? Are you sure it was positive?”

Natasha looked back at it. “Well, it’s got a plus sign so-���

“It’s the third I’ve taken this week. The other two came up invalid but that one was like a bright flashing light.”

Reaching for you by the shoulders, Natasha sat you down. “Okay, first off, breathe.”

You did so. 

And then some more. 

“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna go and get you another box of tests. Proper ones, not these things. And you’re gonna call Steve.”

“He’ll probably pass out. Why do you think I called you?”

Natasha laughed. “Just call him. I’ll be right back.”

And she was. 

Walking back inside, she called out and Steve called back. 

Three minutes later, you were all huddled in the bathroom waiting for the result to finally show. 

“What if it’s a false positive? If it’s positive-positive, will I be able to carry the baby?”

Crouching down in front of you, Steve held your hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Together. Okay?”

You took a breath and nodded. Leaning up, Steve kissed you and you kissed him back. 

You’d been having conversations about starting a family together for a while, but neither of you had started planning it just yet. Mostly because you hadn’t gotten around to it. And you didn’t know if you could even carry Steve’s kid. For all either of you knew, the serum would carry onto your child. 

Natasha looked at her phone. 

“It’s time.”

With a shaky breath, you and Steve stood. However, you paused as you reached for the test. 

“Count me down.”

Steve chuckled softly, counting back from three. 

After one, you turned it over. 

Pregnant 3+ weeks

You felt yourself smile and laugh a little before showing Steve. 

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

Taking the test from your hands, Steve took one look at it before the water-works started. 

Nine months later, inside the Avengers compound, Natasha was walking with you. 

“Once they started arguing over what the manual said, I made a break for it.”

Tony had surprised you and Steve at your home and after an hour, Steve had wrangled him in to help build the crib. It was the final thing that needed to be built and since Steve had banned you from lifting heavy things since you had elected to ignore your midwife and pushed the crib from the living room and into the nursery. You couldn’t help. 

“Have you decided on a name yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“Well, I might be biassed but Natasha is a really good name.”

You laughed a little. “I’ll think about it.”

Natasha smiled, holding onto your hand as she helped you down one of the narrower steps. 

However, halfway around the building, you stopped. 

“Everything okay?”

You nodded. “Just a bit of cramp.”

But it wasn’t just cramp. 

Barely a second later, you felt water trail down your leg until there was a louder splash against the tiles. 

“Oh, shit.”

You looked down. “Oh, my god.”

“Okay, okay. We’re okay.”

You nodded, taking hold of her hand as she walked you down the hall. 

“Steve’s old room is just down the hall. Once we get you there-”

“Call him.”

“I know, I will.”

“No, call him now. Please.”

Twenty minutes later, Tony’s car was kicking gravel up and onto the windshield. Steve ran inside, nearly taking out a few employees on the way. 

Almost fifteen hours later, a healthy baby girl was delivered. 

With her in Steve’s arms, bundled in a fresh baby blanket, everyone stood around the bed. 

“Only took you a decade.”

Steve chuckled, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his daughter. And neither could you. 

And for almost four years, it was blissful. 

As your daughter grew up, Steve told her stories and showed her pictures of the 40s. Even at the age of three, she seemed wise beyond her years. 

Then one night, everything changed. 

Recently, she hadn’t been sleeping. So, lay in bed with you whilst Steve was still at work, you told her a few bedtime stories but when Steve came in an hour or so later, he found her still awake. 

“You should be asleep,” he whispered to her. 

“I tried. Mommy fell asleep, though.”

Steve looked over and smiled. “Come on, let your mom sleep.”

Picking his daughter up, Steve carried her down the hall, leaving his jacket on the bed beside you. Making sure to close the door behind him, Steve started to talk to his daughter. 

Their conversation eventually turned to someone from Steve’s past. 

“Daddy, whose that?”

Steve looked at the photo. It was him and Bucky during his army days, though both were out of uniform and in civilian clothing. There weren't many pictures of Bucky in normal clothes. 

“That’s Uncle Buck.”

“But he’s not in green.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re right, he’s not. That was when we were in London. Pinky, one of the Howling Commandos, decided to take us on a tour of London.”

“Wow.” 

She was awe-struck. 

“Does he know I was born?”

Steve felt a pang in his chest. “Maybe. I don’t know if he can hear me, but I’ve told him.”

“Would he like me?”

Steve smiled. “He’d love you.”

Kissing her temple, Steve sat down in one of the chairs. “Try and get some sleep.”

Steve himself must have fallen asleep because next thing he knew, you were waking him up. Your daughter was still fast asleep, he carried her to bed before you led him down the hall and he collapsed onto your shared bed. 

The next time he woke up that morning, everything you both knew was about to change. 

Time Travel. 

There was a chance everyone could be brought back. 

And after a long conversation, one that was overheard by your daughter who had been playing in the back garden with the family dog, Steve accepted what he had to do. 

“You and Aunty Nat will have pictures again.”

Handing Steve a slightly mud scattered, crinkled, crayon drawing; your daughter had drawn a picture with everyone on it. 

Herself, you, the dog, Steve, Nat, Bucky, Sam with his wings, Clint with his bow and arrow, Thor and his hammer, Tony, Bruce…the stick men with different items, standing on a green field with a corner sun, continued on and on. 

It was that night you kissed Steve and he said what could have been his final goodbye to your daughter. She held onto him tightly, telling him she loved him. The only thing that carried him on his feet was the thought of going through what Scott was. 

In the time he got stuck, he thought his daughter was gone. 

Steve would have done anything to get his daughter back. 

And it didn’t take much for him to remember the pain that washed through and over him when he thought he lost you. 

Scott, like many others, had lost someone they loved. So had Steve. But he hadn’t lost you, though he thought he did. 

People needed their families back. 

And that’s what they got. 

At the cost of Tony’s life. 

After everything had settled, you drove as fast as you could to find Steve. And you found him far outside of the Avengers compound, crouched on the floor. 

“Steve!? Steve!”

Looking up, he spotted you amongst the grey smoke. A shining light in the darkness. 

Running as fast as you could, you eventually reached him. 

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to know if you were okay. Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice was quiet. “He’s gone.”

“Gone? Who’s gone?”

Steve’s voice broke. “T-tony. Tony’s gone.”

“Oh, my god.”

As Steve hugged you, you held him as tightly as you could. He asked about your daughter. 

“She’s with my dad back home. She’s safe. She just needs a cuddle from her dad.”

Steve nodded. “I think I need one from her, too.”

Two weeks later, Steve brought Bucky and Sam home. 

“Honey, come here.” Your daughter ran to her dad’s side. “Sam, Buck. I’d like you to meet Aurora. Rory, honey, this is Sam and Bucky.”

Sam knelt down and shook her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, miss.”

Meanwhile, Bucky was in pure shock. Slowly, he knelt beside Sam and Bucky felt his life flash before his eyes. 

“Steve…she looks like your mom.”

As Rory studied Bucky, she decided to hug him. Sam smiled and so did you and Steve. And eventually Bucky hugged her back, frightened he might break her. 

“Can I show them my room?”

The consensus was yes and whilst Sam was dragged towards her bedroom, Rory shouting for you to follow, Bucky and Steve followed behind. 

Inside her room, her walls were covered in different pictures she’d drawn of the different stories Steve had told her. Of course, most of them were stick men, but the message was still clear. 

A week later, a funeral was held for Tony and the Stones had to be returned. 

Standing beside Bucky as Steve stood on the platform, Aurora stood and waited in between both of you. 

And in what was a few seconds later, Steve returned with Natasha by his side. 

Aurora gasped and bolted forward. 

“Aunty Nat!”

“Careful, kiddo.” Steve warned just before Aurora collided with her, but Natasha shook her head. 

“It’s okay.” 

Lifting her into her arms, she hugged her tightly.  

“You’re back.”

Natasha smiled. “Thanks to your dad.”

Looking at her dad, she smiled before hugging Natasha again. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Natasha nodded and carried Rory back towards you before everyone started running over. Meanwhile, you watched as Steve walked over to Sam. 

Ten minutes later, your daughter bolted from the crowd and towards her dad who was finally out of his protection suit. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Seeing you again, Steve kissed you before kissing Rory’s cheek. 

“Everything okay?”

Steve watched as Fury made his way over to Sam, and he smiled. 

“Everything’s good.”

Kissing you again, Steve smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For walking into that room when you did.” Steve told you. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to do something about it.”

You shook your head, looking from him to your daughter and back to him. “It happened when it was meant to.”

Steve smiled before he kissed you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tony was right; Steve found the life with you he’d always wanted, even if it did take him a decade to do something about it. 

[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, 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: Still the same.

Chapter 26- 'After Lunch' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.8 k

The restaurant was effortlessly chic, its sleek, modern decor exuding an understated elegance. You walked in, scanning the room for Layla, feeling slightly nervous but eager for a proper catch-up. She spotted you first, standing up from a corner table bathed in soft, golden light. Her warm smile greeted you instantly, though there was something slightly off about her expression—a hint of tension lurking beneath her usual sparkle.

“Hi, babe! You alright?” she cooed, pulling you into a tight hug, her perfume familiar and comforting.

“Yeah, yeah, course. This place is gorge!” you gushed, pulling back to take in the restaurant’s atmosphere. The subtle hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the faint scent of fresh herbs and pastas cooking filled the air. “You always know the best places before anyone else,” you added, sitting down and smoothing your cream denim shorts and adjusting your top as you took your seat. Layla sat opposite you, resting her elbows gently on the table for a moment before she reached for your hand.

“I do my best,” she said with a faint smile, squeezing your fingers, but you noticed her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. You tilted your head at her, sensing something off. 

“Lay… is everything okay?” you asked hesitantly. Before she could answer, a waiter appeared at the table, placing a sleek silver wine cooler and a bottle of Dom Pérignon on the table. Your brow furrowed in confusion as Layla quickly thanked him, barely looking up. “Champagne? Lay, what's the matter?” you asked with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood. But when you glanced back at her, she was looking at you with a somber expression, her hand still holding yours.

“Y/N…” she began softly, her voice just barely above the hum of the restaurant. She took a deep breath, her hesitation making your stomach twist.

“Layla… you’re making me nervous,” you told her earnestly, your tone now more serious, your heart sinking at the way she seemed to struggle for words. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first. Then, shaking her head slightly as if to steel herself, she tried again. 

“I… I know more than just good restaurants before everyone else,” she murmured cryptically, her fingers tightening around yours. You blinked, confused.

“Yeah, I know that…” You awkwardly responded. Layla looked down briefly, and when her eyes met yours again, they were glistening.

“I mean… there’s something I need to tell you,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. Your stomach dropped, the playful air of your earlier greeting dissolving completely. 

“How bad is it that you ordered champagne?” You asked cautiously, trying to prepare yourself. You tried to smile sympathetically at her but you could feel the nerves radiating off her. It was something serious. Her breath hitched, and she looked away momentarily before returning her gaze to you. 

“It’s bad,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“Please, just tell me.”You pressed, leaning closer across the table. She nodded, as if trying to gather courage, and glanced at the champagne again. 

“I ordered this because… I thought it might help soften the blow. But I don’t think anything could,” she whispered. Your heart raced, your throat tightening. 

“Blow? What blow? What are you on about?” You pressed her. Layla took another deep breath, finally meeting your eyes with a pained look.

“I found out how Josh got the video of you and T…” She said softly, and just like that, your stomach twisted into a knot. You felt sick immediately as the words left her lips.  “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I only found out recently when I dug through Devon’s phone and I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you without hurting you.” She babbled fast and panicked. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered, watching your lash line fill with tears. 

“Was it…” You paused, unable to swallow down the lump in your throat. You couldn’t even get his name out, terrified that maybe this was somehow an elaborate ruse Trent had used. 

“No! No, no, of course not! No, he would never, babe. He loves you so much.” She sighed hating to even have this conversation. She picked up her champagne glass and downed it.  Layla took a deep breath, glancing at the glass in your hand before returning her eyes to you. She squeezed your hand gently, her fingers trembling slightly.  “Do you want to know or… what would make you feel best?” She sheepishly and sweetly asked you. 

“Who was it?” Your eyes narrowed, beginning to feel like it had to be something unexpected given Layla’s hesitancy. She pushed your champagne glass towards you to drink, before she poured herself another glass. You guzzled it down in two gulps hoping a film of alcohol in your system might be able to protect you. 

“It was Jess,” she finally whispered. You froze, the name hitting you like a slap. Your stomach churned, and you could feel the bile rising in your throat. 

“Jess?” you repeated in disbelief, the word barely audible as it escaped your lips.

“She… she sent it to him,” Layla confirmed, her voice filled with shame as though she was the one at fault. “She sent it to Josh because—God, it’s so fucking petty—because she was jealous. She has some ridiculous crush on T and thought… I don’t even know what she thought. It's incomprehensible to me. That she’d somehow hurt you enough to ruin things between you two? She’s sick.” You blinked rapidly, your vision blurring with tears that threatened to spill over. 

“She… I don’t understand. How?” your voice cracked as you tried to process the betrayal. Layla nodded, her lips quivering as she watched your reaction. 

“I don’t know, babe, I know. It’s unforgivable. She wanted to hurt you and him. I’m assuming she thought if she got that video to Josh, he’d release it and ruin Trent’s career, ruin everything for you two. It’s sick, and I hate that I even have to tell you this.” The tears came now, streaming down your face as you shook your head, trying to make sense of it. 

“I thought she liked me,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “She’s Meg’s best friend… Like why? She—” You choked on the words, the betrayal cutting deep. Layla leaned across the table, gripping your hands tighter. 

“I know, babe. I know. She’s disgusting for this. I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to hurt you more, but you needed to know.” Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your mind racing with memories of Jess—her fake smiles, the way she inserted herself into your life. 

“Who else knows?” You whimpered.

“Just Noah and I.” She whispered, reaching across the table to hold your hand again. You opened your mouth to ask a question but Layla was faster than you. She knew what was on the tip of your tongue. “T, doesn’t know. I just… I couldn’t keep it from you though.” She explained and you nodded as tears rolling down your cheeks. You let your eyes flutter closed so hurt by knowing Jess sent that video. Layla sighed, reaching out and cupping your cheek and wiping your tears with her other hand. “I’m so sorry, babe. I hit her for you.” Your eyes snapped open and looked at her disapprovingly. “Noah stopped me.”  She smiled.  

“So, T doesn’t know,” you whispered, your voice trembling. Layla shook her head. 

“No, I didn’t tell him. I figured you should know first and give you the space to decide if you wanted it to come from you, if you wanted him to know. But honestly, Y/N, I think he deserves to know. He loves you, and this involves him too.” You nodded weakly, wiping at your wet cheeks with shaky hands. 

“I’m genuinely in shock. Like what did I do? I can’t believe she’d do this to me, to him… to us.” You babbled. Layla poured more champagne into your glass, her own hands unsteady. 

“Babe, fuck her. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re stronger than her. You and Trent are stronger than her. She wanted to tear you apart, but she’s not going to win. You have each other.” You sniffled, clutching the stem of the glass for dear life. 

“I don’t even know how to face her, Lay. Or Josh. I feel so… violated.” You looked at Layla completely lost.

“And you have every right to,” Layla said fiercely, her eyes blazing with protective anger. “But you’re not alone. You’ve got me, Jack, Noah, and most importantly, you’ve got Trent. We’ll handle this together, alright?” You nodded again, a fresh wave of tears brimming in your eyes, but this time, there was a sliver of determination behind them. Jess and Josh might have tried to ruin you, but they wouldn’t succeed. Not if you had anything to say about it. Even so, you and Layla spent the better half of the next two hours attempting to drown the problem out with more champagne. 

The remnants of your extravagant lunch sat scattered across the table, the third bottle of Dom Perignon now empty gleaming under the restaurant lights like a trophy of indulgence. Plates were left half-eaten, the food now cold and entirely insufficient for the amount of champagne you and Layla had consumed. You were both slumped in the booth, leaning against each other. You’d moved to sit in her embrace, laughing one second and wiping away tears the next.

“Okay,” Layla slurred, propping her elbow on the table for support as she reached for the bill. Her credit card slipped from her fingers and clattered to the table before she picked it up again, giggling. “Maybe we took lunch a little too far.” She giggled

“A little,” you echoed drunkenly, a hiccup following your words as you giggled, clinging to her arm for stability. Your cheeks were flushed, tear-stained yet glowing from the alcohol. Layla looked at the total on the bill and winced dramatically, pulling a face. 

“Alright, who let us do this?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood as she signed the receipt.

“Definitely not me,” you mumbled, resting your head on her shoulder. Layla grinned but then sighed, pulling you closer into her side. “Want to split?” You asked her. She shook her head, rejecting your offer. 

“Okay, also, unfortunately, I do think we need to call someone to pick us up though. Neither of us is walking out of here straight, let alone driving.” She cooed gently, signing her name on the receipt before tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. You lifted your head, blinking at her blurrily, the weight of reality suddenly crashing into you again.  You looked at her terrified, like you were little girls being caught drinking, not grown women coping with the aftermath of a crazy person like Jess. “It’s fine. Want to call Jack?” She asked you. 

“No! Lay, we can’t call Jack,” you whispered frantically, clutching her arm. “He’ll kill me if he finds out. We’re drunk in the middle of the day, and if he hears about Jess now… he’lll be fuming.” Your words trailed off as your voice cracked, and Layla gave you a knowing, sympathetic look.

“T?” She offered another option softly, her tone gentle but encouraging. You began to cry again, tears blurring your vision of your empty champagne glass. The mere mention of his name sent a fresh wave of emotion through you. Tears welled in your eyes before spilling over, blurring the restaurant and Layla’s concerned face.

“I can’t see him either.” You whimpered, your voice breaking as you crumbled into Layla’s chest.

“Babe…” she sighed, wrapping her arms around you tightly. She rested her chin on the top of your head, her fingers stroking your back in soothing circles. You hiccupped against her, sobbing quietly as she continued to console you. “You’re safe,” Layla murmured softly. “We’ll figure this out, okay? You don’t have to do it alone.” You sniffled, lifting your tear-streaked face to look at her.

“I just… I don’t know how to face him after all of this. What if he hates me or realizes that I’m not what he wants? What if he can’t deal with it or doesn’t want to?” You muttered.  Layla tilted your chin up to meet her eyes, her own voice steady despite the alcohol. 

“He’s not Josh, babe. He loves you. He’ll want to help you, not run from you. He wants to be in a relationship with you.” She smiled. You nodded weakly, wiping your face with the back of your hand, but the anxiety in your chest didn’t ease. Layla reached for her phone and began scrolling through her contacts. “Okay, hmm, if we’re not calling Jack or T, I’ll figure something else out. Give me a second. Just breathe, okay?” The room felt too warm, the champagne buzz clouding your thoughts as Layla’s calming presence became the only tether keeping you grounded. Layla tapped her phone screen nervously, the champagne buzzing through her veins making her movements a little sloppy. She pressed Noah’s name and held the phone up to her ear, chewing on her bottom lip as it rang. You sat beside her in the booth, your head resting on her shoulder, drained and teary-eyed.

“Lay? What’s up?” Noah’s voice came through the phone, casual but curious.

“Hii, can you come pick me and Y/N up?” Layla slurred sweetly, trying to sound as charming as possible, though her drunkenness made it obvious.

“Ah, fuck, Lay, I’m in Manny right now,” Noah said, his tone immediately shifting to concern. “You alright though? What’s going on?” He asked her.

“That’s perfect, Noah! We’re only in Salford. Pleaseee!” she whined, clutching the phone tightly, her voice carrying a playful desperation. Your brow furrowed as you sniffled back a tear hearing her choice of person to call. Noah’s concern didn’t fade, but his teasing side slipped through.

“What’s going on? Don’t you two have any other lads you could call? Pretty sure there are at least two guys who’d love to pick you up right now.” He joked.  Layla rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up. 

“Noah, pleaaaase,” she dragged out the word dramatically. “I need you. Just do this one little favor for me.” You tilted your head to look at her, your face still damp from earlier tears, but her plea made you smile faintly. There was a pause on the line, and then Noah sighed. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright, drunk girl. Send me the addy. If it’s more than 30 minutes from me, though, I’ll just call you two an Uber.” He softly agreed, easily picking up that Layla’s voice was laced with alcohol. 

“Ahh, thank youuu, Noah! You’re the best!” Layla squealed, her smile bright as she looked over at you. But before she could hang up, Noah’s voice cut through again, soft and surprisingly serious. 

“Hey, Lay.” He spoke. She hummed in response, still grinning. “Just sit tight, yeah? Don’t do anything dumb till I get there,” he said, his tone so gentle it caught her off guard. Layla’s smile softened, and she blinked down at the phone as her voice dropped to match his. 

“Okay, Noah. Thank you.” She ended the call with a shaky laugh, her cheeks flushed and her head resting against yours. Layla set her phone on the table, letting out a long exhale as she leaned back against the booth. “He’s coming,” she murmured, her words directed more to herself than to you. You nodded slowly against her, clutching her arm like it was the only thing holding you together. 

“I can’t believe we’re calling Noah,” you murmured, your voice wavering between exhaustion and humor.

“It was a good idea.” Layla cooed with a crooked smile. “He’s reliable, funny, and he keeps his mouth shut.” She winked, trying to lighten the mood. “But… yeah, he’s gonna tease us to death for this.” You let out a weak giggle, the sound breaking through the heaviness that still sat on your chest. “Just wait. He’s never going to let this go.” You whined. Layla let out a soft laugh, brushing her fingers through your hair soothingly before reaching to grab her champagne glass. She shrugged, draining the last of her drink in one gulp. 

“It’s fine. We deserve a little teasing after this ridiculous day, don’t we?” You managed a small smile, though the ache in your chest hadn’t gone away. 

“Yeah… but do you think he’ll tell Jack?” You asked her meekly. Layla shook her head immediately, her hair brushing against your shoulder. “Noah’s an joke sometimes, but he’s loyal just trying to help us out. He won’t tell Jack unless you want him to. I promise.” You exhaled shakily, leaning your head on her shoulder. 

“Okay… okay, good.” The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, both of you staring out the window at the street outside. The restaurant’s buzz of chatter and clinking glasses felt like background noise, a world apart from the weight of your shared secret. Layla finally broke the silence with a sigh. 

“He’ll be here soon. And then we’ll figure it out. You’re not doing this alone, babe.” You nodded again, squeezing her hand as if to thank her without words. The weight of the day pressed down on you, but for the first time, you felt a flicker of relief knowing that someone else was shouldering it with you.

When Noah’s sleek silver G-Wagon rolled up to the curb, you and Layla were perched on a bench outside now, your heads leaning against each other, both of you a mix of emotional exhaustion and drunkenness. The sun was bright, and you squinted to make out the driver, unsure if it was Noah or just someone with an equally flashy car. But the way Layla’s face lit up—a sloppy, beaming grin—told you immediately.

“You like him,” you whispered in a sing-song tone in her ear, giving her waist a playful pinch as you both staggered to your feet.

“He’s giving us a ride!” she protested, her words dragging slightly as she giggled.

“Sure, just a ride,” you teased back, stumbling alongside her toward the car. When you reached the passenger door, you tugged on the handle, but it didn’t budge. It was locked. You groaned, tugging again just as you heard the click of Noah unlocking it. You pulled again too soon, causing it to lock once more.

“Clearly a ride we need,” Layla teased, moving past you with a drunken giggle to open the door herself.

“Jesus Christ,” Noah muttered with a chuckle, leaning over to watch from the driver’s seat with a smirk. “You two forget how doors work when you’re drunk?” He teased. 

“Apparently,” Layla laughed, helping you climb into the backseat before she hopped into the front with another burst of giggles. “Honestly, Noah,” Layla slurred, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, “you’re so lucky we called you. Could’ve been anyone.” She joked.  

“Yeah, I feel so lucky,” he deadpanned, glancing over at her with a shake of his head. Layla struggled to pull the seat belt across her in an equally pathetic attempt as you trying to open the door moments ago. Noah reached across her with a smug smile pulling the seatbelt across her with ease. She muttered a thank you as her stomach filled with butterflies, she tried to push down. “So, do you have a destination in mind… or?” Noah asked with a laugh, glancing over at Layla as she settled in. 

“Erm…” Layla hesitated, turning in her seat to look back at you. You were slumped in the back, forehead already pressed against the cold window, likely to leave behind a faint imprint of your tinted moisturizer. You knew Noah would complain about it for weeks, even though it would take two seconds to wipe away. She reached out to tap your knee gently.  “Babe… Do you… Do you want to go to T’s?” Layla asked you gently. The moment her words registered, you turned to her, and tears immediately began to form in your eyes. Layla frowned, her heart breaking for you, and placed her hand on your knee. “It might be good for you,” she encouraged. “We can stay with you. It’s okay.” She smiled and Noah turned to her with a look of confusion. Noah cocked his head slightly, raising an eyebrow as he took in the exchange.

“I’m bringing you two fucked up to Trenty’s? Are you mad?” He muttered in a low voice just to Layla. She tilted her head, silently begging him to understand. 

“Please, it’d be good for her.” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. Noah glanced back at you again, finally noticing your tear-stained cheeks and watery eyes. He sighed, his expression softening as he shifted gears—literally and emotionally.

“Yeah, c’mon, Y/N. Let’s go to Trenty’s. Will be good.” He said, his tone suddenly gentle. He shot you a reassuring wink with a small smile, trying to reassure you before turning around to put the car in drive. Layla looked at Noah, her eyes filled with quiet admiration, appreciating how quick he was to help. She couldn’t help but feel a flutter of warmth at how quickly he adjusted, how instinctively he stepped up when you needed help. Stars practically danced in her gaze as she whispered a soft, ‘thank you.’  Noah didn’t reply, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a subtle smirk as he pulled away from the curb, focusing on getting the two of you where you needed to be. “Best place to nurse a hangover, I won’t lie. Got all that athlete shit, comfy couches—it’ll be alright. Bet he’ll even give you a cuddle. I’ve heard he’s got a thing for ya.” Noah teased you with a chuckle, momentarily lightening the mood. Layla swatted at his thigh with a playful glare, but before she could reach him, he caught her hand mid-air, wrapping his larger fingers around hers. He shot her a cheeky side-eye as he turned onto the main road.

“Should I text him?” Layla whispered to Noah as you sat silently in the back, staring out of the window. The cityscape blurred into streaks of light and shadows, but none of it registered. Your thoughts were tangled in the aftermath of Layla’s revelation and the haze of Dom still coursing through your system. Noah nodded. 

“Grab my phone for me,” he instructed softly, his focus on the road. Layla froze for a second, realizing that he trusted her completely. No password demands or side-eye glances—he handed her access without a second thought. Layla realized then that she didn’t have to snoop with Noah, he willingly just let her into his phone. No qualms. Layla swiped up on his phone and opened his messages. She quickly typed something to Trent: 

‘Bringing Y/N and Lays to yourrs. They’re drunk, I’m not. I’n driving.  ‘Actually, I’m not. Tjhis is Layla. Noah’s driving. Y/N is… not great. Seee you in like 15, I think. K. ILY <3’

She hesitated for a moment, then hit send. The message was chaotic, riddled with typos and unnecessary details, but it perfectly captured the messy reality of the situation.

“Can I play a song?” Layla smirked, holding up Noah’s phone.

“Yeah, but play something good,” Noah replied, giving her a quick glance. Layla rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“Good is subjective. You’ll like, I promise. Let me work.” She giggled. 

“Y/N,” Noah called out to you sweetly, his tone softening. “What have you been listening to lately?” He asked you, trying to keep you in the present moment. You barely moved, shrugging with a blank stare, your sad eyes fixed on the streaks of streetlights outside.  “Alright,” he  sighed. “You good back there? Because I’ll charge you like an uber if you get sick in my car, yeah?” He shot you a look through the rearview mirror with a smirk that sent an immediate feeling of normalcy through your chest. It wasn’t much, but his lighthearted tone melted some of the weight in the air. You blinked, your lips twitching slightly, almost forming a smile. Noah nodded, satisfied that he’d pulled you back—if only for a moment.

“Yo bro!” Noah’s voice rang through the side door as he entered, the familiar boisterous tone of his greeting filling the space. Layla winced, clearly caught off guard by his volume, and gave him a playful, exasperated look. Noah simply shrugged with a teasing eye roll, unfazed. You were leaning into her, both of you stumbling a little as you made your way into the living room. Trent was already up, ready the second he heard the door, standing by the couch, his eyes locking onto you as you entered. 

“Yo,” Trent nodded at Noah. He caught Noah’s greeting with a quick dap, but his focus immediately shifted back to you. The energy was entirely different as he turned to face you. He noticed upon entry the broken look on your face. “Alright, pretty girl? What’s going on with you?” His voice softened, more tender as he stepped toward you, and without hesitation, he pulled you gently from Layla’s arm and into his embrace. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, and Trent kissed your hair repeatedly, a calming gesture, but there was something heavier in his touch. “I didn’t know I’d get to see my baby today,” Trent hummed softly, his lips brushing the top of your head, his hands cradling your back. You felt the guilt settle in your chest, the weight of everything weighing heavily on your heart. His affection, the warmth of his touch, only made you feel worse.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, barely able to form the words. Trent’s body stiffened for just a second, his fingers running through your hair, as if he understood that something wasn’t right. 

“Nah, baby, c’mon,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’re okay. Come be with me, please.” He stepped back slightly, but only enough to hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin gently, a silent promise that he was there, that you weren’t alone in this. He pulled you with him. Trent turned his head toward Layla as you settled into the safety of his arms, holding you close. He hadn’t really had the chance to check on her yet. She’d been the one to help get you here, and Trent was more than aware of how much she was trying to keep everything together. His gaze softened as he caught her eye. “You alright, Lays?” Trent asked gently, his voice warm with concern. His protective nature toward you had extended to Layla as well. She had been a constant source of strength for you, and he wanted to make sure she wasn’t getting overlooked in the chaos. Layla’s smile was small but appreciative, though tinged with a touch of sadness. She nodded, but there was a hesitance in her demeanor. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” she replied, but it wasn’t the usual confident response she might’ve given. Trent could see that. Layla had always been the strong one, but now, with the weight of everything happening around her, she seemed a little shaken.

“You sure?” Trent pressed, his hand now resting on your waist, his thumb brushing small circles on your skin, making sure you were comfortable. His eyes never left Layla’s, trying to read her, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying. Layla, however, just let out a small sigh with a sheepish nod, trying to cover it with a quick smile following you and Trent with Noah into the living room. “C’mon. Not gonna make me sit alone are you?” Trent smirked at you pulling you down to sit on the sofa with him. You nodded with a sniffle. He leaned back into the cushion and dragged your body to drape over his.  “So what’s going on?” He picked his gaze up momentarily from you to look between Noah and Layla. 

“We just got a little lunch.” Layla explained looking at you, your face now buried in the nape of Trent’s neck. “And maybe got a little too much champagne.” She smirked with a giggle. 

“A little? Your car is still in Salford.” Noah laughed teasing Layla with a big grin. He shook his head with a smirk as he flopped onto the sofa next to her. Layla rolled her eyes playfully, flicking her leg out to nudge Noah’s thigh, in retaliation to his teasing. 

“Ah I see.” Trent smirked.  “You eat anything good, baby?” Trent asked you more softly, leaning down to kiss your temple, brushing your hair behind your ear. You just shook your head ‘no,’ not having enough will to say anything. Just wanting to stay into his arms, keep your face hidden in the nape of his neck. “So No, you taking up a new career?  Uber would be sound on your CV, mate.” Trent teased him. 

“Ha, hilarious, bro. But no, I didn’t get the look for the actual food part. I just got a whiney call from a girl who had more Dom than lunch.” Noah joked. Trent chuckled softly at Noah’s remark, starting to better understand the afternoon, shaking his head with a grin. 

“Gotcha,” he smirked, looking between Noah and Layla, mildly amused at the situation. He gave you another soft kiss on your temple, his fingers gently brushing through your hair, trying to offer you some comfort. “So didn’t get to eat much, baby, huh?” he asked again, this time his voice softer, filled with care. You shook your head in response, your face still buried in the crook of his neck. You could feel the warmth of his body against you, the soothing presence of him grounding you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak much.

“No food, but at least she got champagne,” Noah teased. Layla shot him a playful glare. Trent’s attention dropped back to you again, his focus shifting to make sure you were okay.’ 

“Baby, how about I get you a little food now?” He asked you softly. You shook your head again. “Lay, anything?” Trent turned his head. 

“I’m good.” Layla smiled, appreciating the ask but she was still locked in on you.  

“Alright. Will just chill for a bit, yeah?” He hummed.  “C’mere, baby.” He whispered. His voice was soothing, more earnest now, as he looked down at you, brushing a strand of your hair from your face. He held you closer and it made your heart ache.  You felt yourself melt into his embrace, and for a moment, the outside world seemed distant. In that safe space with Trent, the chaos of the day faded, even if only for a little while.

The room was suffocating in silence, the TV playing mindlessly in the background as you all sat there, the air thick with tension. Everyone could feel it. Maybe Noah less, but he was nervous about where the rest of the evening would go. Layla hurt for you but was equally anxious about Trent finding out. Trent was suspicious about what drove this impromptu boozy lunch, and the decision to get you to him. He could tell something was off.  You were just in your own head, and it was filled with catastrophic thoughts. Every breath felt too loud, every shift in position too obvious. Trent laid underneath you, he held you gently but securely but his gaze was flicking around. Pinging from Noah to the TV, then to Layla, down to you, trying to deduce what was going on. Finally he caught Layla’s gaze. His eyes narrowed, silently asking her what had happened—what was so important, so painful, that it made you and Layla drink the way you did. She sighed realizing that maybe it was time to explain what everyone in the room but Trent. His concern deepened as Layla nervously shifted closer to you, her hand gently resting on your arm. The soft touch of her hand was meant to comfort you, but it only made you feel more exposed. You felt your throat tighten, another fresh wave of tears building up inside you. You couldn’t even process the last few hours. Everything felt like it was closing in, but you weren’t ready to tell Trent yet. Layla hesitated before speaking, her voice quiet and unsure. 

“Babe, can I tell T?” Her words were barely audible, but you knew what she meant. You shook your head ‘no,’ the emotion rising in your chest, and let out a small, shaky breath. Layla didn’t want to tell him. She was terrified of how Trent would react, how it might hurt him and in turn you. But she had to. You all knew that.

“No,” you whispered, pulling yourself a tighter to Trent, trying to hide, not just from telling him about Jess, but from the reality of everything else that had happened. You couldn’t bear to look at him. Your heart ached at the thought of him knowing the truth. Trent felt your hesitation, and he gently cupped your face, his thumb tracing over your cheek, wiping away a few stray tears. 

“Pretty girl, can Layla tell me, please?” His voice was soft, almost pleading, his eyes full of concern. He was losing his patience but doing his best to keep calm, for you. “I’m worried, baby.” You looked up at him, your vision blurred with tears. You felt like a little girl again, unsure of how to protect yourself, unsure of how to protect him from the storm that was about to hit. You finally gave in and nodded, before wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face again  in his warmth. You wanted to shield him from the pain, but you knew you couldn’t. Not anymore. Layla, seeing your response, took a deep breath and gathered her courage. She shifted closer, her hand still on your arm. She couldn’t stop the tears now. Her eyes were glassy, blurred with her own heartbreak. She looked at Trent, her voice trembling. 

“I’m sorry, T,” she whispered, voice barely audible as she began the words she knew would insight more chaos into your lives.  Trent’s body stiffened. He knew this wasn’t good by her tone alone. He wanted to shout, wanted to break down, but instead, he kept his composure, his chest tight, waiting patiently for her to explain. He glanced down at you, your face buried against his neck, trembling in his arms. His heart was breaking for you.  Noah’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the heavy atmosphere. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on all of you, but it was Layla’s nervous, sad energy that stood out the most. She was trying to hold it together for your sake, but Noah could see how badly she was struggling. His gaze softened, and he instinctively moved closer to her, offering a small, reassuring smile.

“Lay, I got it, yeah? Just relax for me. We’re all good. Gonna be fine.” Noah’s voice was calm, almost too calm, as if to balance out the anxious energy that was flooding the room. Layla gave him a small smile in return, a mixture of  appreciation and sorrow in her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to carry this burden alone, and for that moment, she was glad he was there. But as Noah turned back to face Trent and you, he knew the next part of the conversation wouldn’t be great. Trent was still confused, his brow furrowed in concern as he noticed the shift. The quiet tension, the unspoken fear in Layla’s and your eyes, and the knowing look in Noah’s face—all of it was weighing on him.

“What’s going on? Lay, you alright?” Trent asked gently, his voice laced with concern, but Layla’s answer came from Noah instead. Noah let out a small breath, rubbing the back of his neck nervously before continuing. He knew this was going to be uncomfortable, but there was no way around it. 

“Ah… yeah, so mate…” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts as he glanced at the three of you, all visibly upset. “We found out how Josh got the video of you and Y/N…” He hesitated, his words more cautious now. “It’s a bit of a weird one to take so we’ve been walking on eggshells here. Just finally, things had started to calm, you guys were good…” Noah’s voice trailed off awkwardly. He didn’t want to speak for anyone else, but it felt like the right time to say it all. Layla’s hand slid down your arm, her touch gentle, reminding you that even with the storm brewing, things had started to feel better. It wasn’t all bad—there was still hope for healing, for you and Trent, and for all of you. The small gesture helped, even if it didn’t fix everything. Trent didn’t move, his body tense as he processed the words. His mind raced. He didn’t like the sound of this—Josh, the video, the hurt he knew it caused you. His jaw clenched as he tried to piece everything together, but the reality of what had happened was starting to sink in, and it made him angry, protective, and desperate all at once.

“Noah, tell me, bro…”Trent asked, his voice low and controlled, though it was clear he was barely holding it together. They could see the hurt in his eyes. Noah exchanged a look with Layla, who nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Layla gently squeezed your arm again, leaning in closer to you for support, as if grounding herself before things got harder to bear.

“I’m so sorry, bro,” Noah continued softly. “We’ve been keeping it from you for a bit, but it was Jess. She’s the one who sent it to him. Jess sent the video to Josh, that lad Devon has a screenshot from her talking to Josh, and she admitted to Layla and I.” Noah’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their truth. The silence that followed was deafening, and Trent’s hands held you a bit tighter but he was mindful not to react angrily. He looked between Noah, Layla, and you, his eyes filled with hurt and disbelief. The betrayal hit Trent like a punch to the gut. He could feel the adrenaline rush through him as he thought about how someone could do this to you, someone you trusted. His chest tightened, his pulse pounding in his ears. But he couldn’t let himself lose control now. Not when you needed him to stay strong. Trent slowly exhaled, his eyes finally settling on your form draped across him.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered into your hair with a kiss. He could see how fragile you were, how broken by this knowledge. His hands caressed your back, his touch gentle but firm.  In a way Trent felt really responsible for this. He was glad you were away from Josh of couse but the only reason this was happening, the only reason Josh was hurting you was through him,  through his prior relationship with Jess. 

“Mate-” Trent’s jaw clenched, his anger bubbling beneath the surface as Noah tied to speak more but before Noah could finish, Layla’s voice cut through.

“And then I slapped her,” she added, glancing over at Trent, her face tight with emotion. Trent froze, his eyes flashing toward her, momentarily stunned. Trent’s brows raised surprised by the admission. He’d known Layla was textbook definition ride or die for you but hitting Jess wasn’t really on his bingo card either. 

“Yeah alright well…” Noah smirked at Layla just momentarily, appreciating her ferocity and not wanting to diminish it but it wasn’t the point. “I know she deserved it but nevertheless, mate, I’m sorry. Don’t want to make anyone upset but obviously you two deserved to know. And you know, makes things sort of complicated, given...” Noah’s voice trailed off, not finishing the thought. Noah hesitated before continuing, but Trent wasn’t having it. The words were too much for him, and his emotions were too raw. You went stiff in his arms at the insinuation. 

“No. It’s not fucking complicated. Not at all.” Trent snapped, his tone icy and sharp. You flinched in his arms, instinctively feeling the intensity of his anger and the change in the room. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his grip on you tightened as if to ground both himself and you. A reminder that you were with him, safe in his house, here now. Trent’s tone had shifted dramatically. The pain of hearing the truth, of knowing how deep the betrayal cut, had made him snap. His hands trembled, barely contained anger simmering beneath the surface. But as his eyes met yours, everything changed. His expression softened, and he pulled you closer, guiding you to look directly into his eyes. With one hand still holding you, he shifted you slightly, moving you so that you were facing him fully. His hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing the soft skin of your cheeks. His eyes bored into yours, searching for any sign that you were okay, that this wasn’t breaking you down. From the moment you made eye contact, something inside you broke free. The tears that had been building up spilled over once again. He held your face tenderly, his thumb gently wiping away the tears that streamed down your cheeks. He searched your eyes, silently pleading with you to understand that nothing—nothing—was more important than the two of you in that moment. The room seemed to shrink, the noise from the others fading into the background as Trent’s words cut through.

“We’re okay, baby, yeah?” His voice was low and sincere, a soft murmur just for you. He leaned in closer, his forehead almost touching yours. He wasn’t asking for confirmation—he was affirming it. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the raw emotion he was trying so hard to keep in check.  “Me and you, right?” He asked, his words carrying more weight than he probably realized. He looked at you with for eyes that shattered your heart. You pouted. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the overwhelming emotions from earlier still lingering. You felt safe in his arms, even amidst the chaos and betrayal that had unfolded. You nodded, a small but reassuring smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “I’m not letting anyone treat you this way, pretty girl,” he continued, his voice rough but firm, full of determination.  “No one is going to get in the way of me loving you.” There was a pause as he inspected your face, as though reading you for any sign of doubt, any crack in your resolve. His expression softened, his pink lips curling into a sad smile letting a faint indent of his dimples peek through the corners of his grin. “That okay?” You nodded again, this time feeling the relief flood through you. The tension in the room seemed to dissipate just a little, and you allowed yourself to feel a sense of calm, knowing that Trent had you no matter what. Your heart clenched at the sincerity in his gaze, at the way he held you like you were the most important thing in the world to him. You nodded, your lips trembling as you struggled to find your voice. 

“Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of his love and commitment. Trent leaned in and kissed your forehead softly, his breath warm against your skin. He pulled back slightly, inspecting your face with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. You sniffled, the tears in your eyes were still there, but they weren’t as heavy now. You weren’t alone anymore. Trent was there, and he was fighting for you, for the two of you. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing yourself close to him, seeking comfort in his embrace. He held you tightly, not wanting to let go. The world outside seemed so distant, the only thing that mattered now was the bond between the two of you. The tension in the room shifted as you and Trent shared a quiet, intimate moment. The others remained silent, giving you both the space you needed. The love and security you felt in Trent’s arms reminded you that, despite everything, you were going to be okay. Together, you could face anything.

"I'm sorry," Layla whispered again, her voice cracking, wiping her eyes.  Layla's own tears streaming down her face. She sniffled, shaking her head in frustration at herself, trying to mask the embarrassment with a weak laugh.

"Nah, don't be," Trent murmured to her, his voice soothing. "We're alright. Hmm, baby?" He turned his attention back to you, his nose brushing against yours, grounding you with his touch. You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tidal wave of emotions that were threatening to crash down on you. Then the anxiety hit-unwanted, unsettling. 

"What about Jess?" you asked, the question hanging in the air between you, heavy and full of fear. The memories of her betrayal lingered, clouding your thoughts. Layla scoffed from beside you, wiping away another tear. 

"Fuck her," she muttered bitterly, the venom in her voice palpable. She sank back into the cushions, her frustration evident.

"She doesn't exist," Trent added firmly, his gaze unwavering as he looked directly at you. "Not to me, not to you." His words hit home with such certainty, such conviction, that a small weight lifted from your chest. You looked into his eyes, finding the reassurance you needed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

"We'll sort it, Y/N," Noah chimed in, his tone light and sincere as he rose from his seat on the soda, walking over closer to where Layla sat now. He plopped down beside her, his arm draping over the back of the couch.  “Fuck her though.” Noah whispered just in Layla’s ear.  He wasn't quite touching her, but the closeness made her shiver slightly, and you noticed the small smile that spread across her face. "Just want you and Trentski happy. Don't worry about all that." He told you. You looked at Noah, the gratitude in your eyes as your lip quivered. 

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice a little shaky but full of appreciation.

"No worries, yeah?" Noah grinned and stuck out his fist toward you. With years of familiarity, you reached out and bumped it, a giggle slipping from your lips at the simplicity of the gesture.

"There she is, my pretty girl," Trent cooed, his arms tightening around you, pulling you into his chest, relieved to see even that millisecond of a weak smile Noah managed to pull from you. He rocked you gently back and forth with a hum, the soothing motion like a balm to your bruised heart. He pressed a kiss to your hair, his lips lingering there. You let out a soft sigh of relief, letting his warmth and affection wash over you. This moment, with him, it was everything you needed.

The living room was dim, the soft flicker of the TV lighting the room enough to see everyone settled in, now the silence welcomed. Trent’s arm was draped around you, his hand resting on your back as you slept soundly against him, your cheek pressed to his chest. He shifted slightly, his mind racing despite the calm in the room. Jess’s betrayal still gnawing at him, but the need to protect you had him restless.

“Psst…” Trent dramatically whispered, his voice low but playful as he poked Layla’s leg with his foot from the other end of the sofa. She stirred but waved him off, too comfortable to fully engage. Trent rolled his eyes dramatically, huffing as if her dismissal was the greatest inconvenience. “Lay…” he whispered again, leaning forward slightly.

“What, T?” she replied with a quiet giggle, finally turning to him with a grin.

“Can you stay with her for a sec? I just wanna pop to the kitchen,” he murmured, nodding down to you nestled against him. He didn’t want you waking up alone, even if it was just for a moment. Yes, you ultimately would be fine, he was only tucking off to the kitchen, but he didn’t want you to wake up alone feeling like he had left you. Layla nodded, sitting up and moving closer.

“MmHmm,” she hummed, watching as Trent carefully shifted you off of him.

“T,” you whined softly in your sleep, the unconscious pout on your lips making Trent pause. He ran his hand gently up and down your arm, his voice soft.

“Love you so much, pretty girl,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple. His touch lingered for a moment, as if he couldn’t bear to step away. Layla smiled at the tenderness, sliding closer to you. 

“I’m here, pretty girl,” she mocked Trent’s accent, playfully running her hands up your back and pulling you into her. Noah, sitting nearby, chuckled at Layla’s tease. Trent turned, his eyes flicking to Noah with a look that said it all. Without needing words, Noah nodded and stood up, following Trent toward the kitchen.

“Need anything, Lays?” Noah asked over his shoulder as he passed.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head, her eyes focused on you. Layla gently traced the freckles on your shoulder with her finger, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest. Even with all the chaos, she found herself comforted by your presence, ensuring you were at peace, even if just for now.

The kitchen was dimly lit, the muffled sounds of the TV filtering faintly through the house. Trent stormed in first, his shoulders tense, and his hands running roughly over his hair. Noah followed closely behind, his arms folded across his chest, watching Trent unravel in front of him.

“What’s up, bro?” Noah asked cautiously, leaning back against the counter.

“Fuck!” Trent yelled, his voice tight and furious, as he dragged his hand down his face. His frustration rippled through the air. Noah exhaled heavily, knowing this wasn’t going to be a short conversation. “I’m fucking fuming, mate,” Trent snapped, his pacing beginning to pick up.

“Yeah, I won’t lie, Trenty, I was surprised by your reaction earlier,” Noah admitted, watching him. He’d been expecting rage—Trent blowing up the moment he heard about Jess. But instead, Trent had been calm, gentle with you, whispering reassurances and holding you like you were his entire world. Still, the fury was there, simmering beneath the surface, and Noah could see it spilling over now. Trent stopped pacing, his hands braced on the kitchen island. 

“I just… I’ve never been so fucking angry, mate. And it’s not at her. She’s just… bro, she’s so raw, like exposed. I don’t want to hurt her. She just didn’t need me to be angry then. I never want to be that way around her.” His voice cracked slightly, his frustration turning inward. Noah nodded, his expression softening. Noah was expecting an outburst not gentle soft Trent, just holding you, letting you fall asleep on him while he told you how much he loved you. But then at the same time, it made perfect sense why that was Trent’s reaction.

“Yeah, course. That’s good though, mate. Not to throw that at her right now. She doesn’t need to see that… Not today.” Noah’s lips pulled into a tight line.  Trent let out a bitter laugh, his pacing starting up again. 

“What the fuck!” He ran his hands over his hair again, tugging at the ends. “Noah… you know Jess and I…” He trailed off, looking helplessly at his friend, as though pleading for him to understand. Begging him to understand that Jess was never anything real to him, 

“What, it was like 2-3 times?” Noah took his best guess about the number of times Trent had hooked up with Jess. But it was an approximate estimation, realistically, he had no idea so he shrugged, trying to downplay it but clearly uncomfortable even bringing it up. 

“Maybe,” Trent muttered, shaking his head. He paused, his jaw clenching. “I know it makes me a bad person to say this, but I just needed sex, and I knew she’d bite. That’s all it ever was.” Noah made a face, one of disgust mixed with discomfort, his lips curling up in a grimace. Trent looked at him annoyed for his reaction. 

“Mate, what!” Noah exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “It’s not great, I won’t lie to you!” Trent shot him another annoyed glare, his jaw tightening further. “But still,” Noah continued quickly, trying to ease the tension, “doesn’t merit the way she’s been moving. None of that justifies what she’s been doing, has done.” He exhaled deeply, empathizing with the whirlwind of emotions Trent must’ve been feeling. Trent’s hands curled into fists, his knuckles brushing against the counter as he leaned forward, his voice low and seething. 

“I just can’t believe she’d stoop so fucking low. Y/N didn’t deserve any of this. She’s been through enough.” Trent muttered, utterly enraged. 

“And that’s why you handled it the way you did, yeah?” Noah offered, his tone gentle. “You kept your cool for her, and that’s what matters. You’re there for her in the way she needs you right now. That’s what she needs, Trenty, you.” Trent nodded, his jaw still tense. “

“Yeah… but when I see Jess again…” He mumbled. Noah raised his eyebrows knowingly, interrupting before Trent could spiral further. 

“You’ll deal with that later, mate. We’ll handle it. For now, focus on Y/N. She’s here. That’s what matters to you, not Jess.” Noah sighed. Trent exhaled, his shoulders dropping slightly as the tension in his body eased just a bit. 

“You’re right.” Trent replied, taking another breath. The kitchen falling into a tense silence, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint murmur of the TV in the other room. Trent stood rigid, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “With Jess, though…There was never anything concrete, bro. I don’t understand,” he said, his voice heavy with frustration. His jaw clenched, and his dark eyes flickered with guilt. “I never took her on a date. I never bought her flowers or gifts. I genuinely don’t know the girl, and—yeah, I know—it makes me sound like a shitty person to say all that, but she knew what it was. And it was nothing.” Trent straightened up, pacing a few steps before turning back to face Noah. His voice cracked slightly as he continued, “Why would she want to hurt me like that? I just don’t get it.” He rambled on. Noah leaned against the counter, arms crossed, studying Trent’s expression. He nodded slowly, letting Trent’s words hang in the air for a moment before responding.

“Mate, it wasn’t to hurt you,” Noah said, his tone calm but direct. “She wanted to hurt Y/N. This wasn’t about you—it was about her being jealous. Yeah, you were what she was jealous of Y/N having but it was to get at Y/N. And honestly, bro…” Noah hesitated for a beat, exhaling deeply a little afraid to say what he wanted to next. It was a theory that had been churning in his brain for a bit. “A part of me feels like Jess must’ve known what was going on between Y/N and Josh. Why else would she send that video to him? It wouldn’t even hold any weight with Josh if Jess thought they were amicable. She had to know he’d be unhappy with it to a degree where he’d do something and hurt her.” Noah explained his idea. Trent’s fists tightened at his sides, his face contorted in frustration. Without warning, he brought his hand down hard on the counter with a loud slap, the sound echoing through the quiet room.

“God damnit!” he snapped, pacing again before stopping abruptly. “How do I even begin to tell Jack…?” Trent’s voice was quieter now, trembling with emotion. He bent over, resting his head against the cold marble countertop. “This is all my fault, bro.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I put her in this situation.” Trent confessed what he was feeling. Noah’s brows furrowed as he shook his head firmly.

“No, bro.”  His voice was almost sharp as he spoke. He stepped closer to Trent, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re nowhere near being at fault for any of this. This lies solely on Jess—and even more so on Josh.” Noah’s voice softened slightly, his expression full of sympathy. “The only thing you can do now is exactly what you’ve always done. Take care of her. Be there for her. That’s all she needs from you.” Noah explained. Trent lifted his head slowly, his face a mix of anger and anguish. He nodded weakly, the weight of it all pressing down on him, but Noah’s words gave him a small sense of direction.

“Yeah,” Trent murmured, his voice hoarse. “I’ve got her. Always.” Noah reached out, giving Trent a reassuring pat on the shoulder, a silent show of support. The room fell into a heavy silence again, both of them knowing that the fallout wasn’t over yet, but that Trent had already made his choice—to protect you, no matter what. Trent stood up and slumped back against the counter, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his emotions. His hands were trembling slightly, and he rubbed his face harshly, as if trying to ground himself. “I try so fucking hard, bro,” Trent whimpered, his voice cracking as he gently tapped his head against the cool marble countertop. The vulnerability in his tone made Noah’s chest tighten. “Mate, it’s like I tried for fucking years, to just give her space. I didn’t want her to like me like this, I mean of course I did, I was desperate but not if it meant hurting her this badly.” His voice wavered as he gestured helplessly, his thoughts spilling out faster than he could manage them. “I just almost wanted her to be with other people because I didn’t want to ruin things. I didn’t want to hurt her,” he admitted, his eyes red and brimming with unshed tears. “But I also always knew I was supposed to be with her, you know, bro? Like I was best fit. I knew it. From the start.  And it hurt me to not be but at least I thought she was better off that way.” Noah leaned against the counter, arms crossed, nodding slowly. He’d known. Everyone who’d been close to Trent had known. He was silent though, ready to listen because he knew more was coming. It wasn’t often that Trent let the floodgates open, his feelings verbalized so Noah waited. “And when it finally happened,” Trent continued, his voice breaking completely now as he lifted his head to look at Noah, his heartbreak written across every inch of his face, “I finally got her, it felt like it was the right thing, that her and I…” He paused, exhaling shakily. “That we were supposed to happen. But now, I don’t know, bro.” Trent picked his head up and looked at Noah heartbroken. Noah knew Trent needed something or he’d stop. 

“Mate,” Noah said gently, his voice steady despite the turmoil he felt watching Trent crumble. “You are supposed to be with her. It makes sense. You and her are good. It works. You’re so good together. And you’re so good for each other.” Noah sighed, hurting for Trent.  Trent shook his head as if Noah’s words weren’t enough to ease the guilt clawing at his chest. 

“I don’t know, Noah. when I got with her, it was so intense. And that was great for me,” he admitted, a faint, bitter laugh slipping through his lips. “But for her? I don’t know anymore.” He raked a hand through his curls, his frustration bubbling over. “She and Jack have this huge rift. And I find out she’s been getting abused for time. I don’t know, mate. Like is it my fault? Did I force her into being with someone like that because I acted like I didn’t like her?  And the thing is… I didn’t ‘like’ her, we all knew I fucking loved her… I fucking loved her my whole life.”  His voice cracked again, and he swiped at his eyes hastily, trying to keep himself together. “I love her so much now it fucking hurts, and I feel like all I do is make her cry. And now… now I’ve got girls like Jess sharing videos of Y/N in just the most vulnerable position.” He broke off, his throat tightening. “And it’s my fault again! I took that video,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now, the tears dangerously close to tip over. 

“Fuck,” Noah muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he watched his friend unravel. He wished there were some magical words he could offer, some quick fix to take Trent’s guilt away, but he knew better. Still, he stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. “Trenty, you’re a good lad,” Noah said, his tone filled with conviction. “None of this is your fault. It’s just life, bro. You can’t control what Jack’s reaction was gonna be, alright? And yeah, I’ve known since we were about fifteen that you were in love with her.” A faint smile flickered on Trent’s lips for a second before disappearing again. “But, you really think Jack would’ve taken it any better back then? He’s good now, bro. He’s adjusting. And as for that fucking piece of shit, Josh…” Noah paused, his expression hardening. “You didn’t push Y/N to him. He is like a cancer, you don’t go looking for it, you don’t ask for it—it just shows up. And when it does show up in the people we love, all we can do is show up for them.”  Noah sadly looked at Trent praying he’d believe him. Trent’s jaw tightened as he listened, his hands gripping the counter behind him as if to keep himself steady. “All you can do is keep showing up for her,” Noah continued, his voice softening as he placed a hand on Trent’s shoulder. “And you do, mate. Every fucking time. Don’t lose sight of that.” Trent nodded weakly, swallowing hard. His head dropped forward, and for a moment, he just stayed like that, letting the weight of Noah’s words sink in.

“I don’t want to be the one that brings any more hurt into her life.” Trent murmured finally, his voice raw. “I just want her to be okay, bro.” 

“And she will be,” Noah reassured him. “Because you’re there. Because you love her. And that’s all she needs.” The kitchen felt heavy, the weight of Trent’s emotions filling the air. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if trying to hold himself together. His eyes darted away from Noah, shame flickering in them. Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair, glancing at Trent’s hunched figure. He wasn’t used to seeing his mate like this—so raw, so uncertain. He stepped forward, his voice soft but firm. “And Jess, mate… that’s not you. That’s her. That’s someone projecting their insecurities and attacking someone because the whole goddamn city has watched you pine over Y/N for years.” Trent’s head snapped up, his lips parting as if to protest, but he stayed silent, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “That’s why it happened,” Noah continued, his gaze steady. “Because you’re right—you do love Y/N. You love her so much, it probably hurt when you looked Jess’s way and looked straight through her. Because she’d never be Y/N. No one could measure up to that for you.” The words hit Trent hard. He exhaled shakily, his hands gripping the edge of the counter behind him. Noah didn’t let up, his tone growing more resolute. “And it’s just the same way, I’m sure Josh loathes you because he knew… he knew he could never be what Y/N actually wanted. He’d never be you. And he took it out on her. But that’s not your fault, mate.” Noah’s voice faltered slightly, his own emotions creeping in, but he pushed on. “That’s someone not knowing how to be a man. That’s someone not knowing how to treat other women. Trenty,” he sighed, his hand reaching out to clap his mate on the shoulder. “Just be…” he paused, trying to find the right words. Noah sighed feeling a bit emotional actually having to say this to Trent’s face. “Just be her T. Y/N’s T. That’s all she wants, that’s all Jack wants, Layla, and me…” He smiled faintly, his tone lightening. “I’m partial to Trentski, but Y/N’s T? He’s not so bad. Don’t mind having him around either.” Trent’s hands came up to his face, rubbing roughly as if to wipe away the emotions threatening to spill. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. 

“Thank you, mate,” he murmured, his voice thick. He let his arms drop and stepped forward, pulling Noah into a brotherly hug.

“Love you, bro,” Noah said, patting Trent’s back firmly. “Probably even close to how much Y/N loves you.” Trent let out a breathy laugh as he pulled back, shaking his head.

 “Love you, broski,” he chuckled, a faint smile finally breaking through. For only a moment, the tension in the room lifted, replaced by a quiet understanding between the two of them. They didn’t need to say anything else—just being there for each other was enough.

The kitchen lights flickered off behind them as Trent and Noah walked out, their conversation trailing softly into the hallway. Trent was visibly frustrated, his hand running through his curls repeatedly as he tried to process everything.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it, that Jess would send it,” Trent muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Like, she’s Meg’s best friend, you know?” His voice carried an edge of betrayal, his mind unable to reconcile the cruelty. Noah sighed deeply beside him, his brows furrowed. 

“I don’t even know, bro. Why are they friends? Meg’s so cool, so calm… and yet you should’ve heard the way Jess spoke about Y/N. Lays should’ve slapped her. It was deserved.” His jaw clenched at the memory, and the anger from that night flickered in his eyes. Trent glanced at him, raising his brows slightly at the sudden fervor in Noah’s voice. He was a little shocked by that confessional. Not shocked that Noah cared so much about you, but more so hearing him continually mention Layla. “Even the way she spoke to Lays had me proper fuming,” Noah added, his voice quieter now, as if he was still stewing over it, recalling the altercation at Megan’s birthday party. Trent hummed in agreement, nodding, but his expression shifted slightly as he caught onto something. Noah had mentioned Layla one too many times as of late, and it didn’t go unnoticed. A smug smile crept onto Trent’s face, his eyes narrowing knowingly, but he decided to keep quiet—for now. There were way too many things going on to entertain that. Instead, he just silently and smugly smiled as they made their way back to you and her.

“Yeah, fuck her,” Trent finally said passively with a shake of his head, dismissing the thought of Jess. “Well, thanks for getting them today, mate.” He gave Noah’s shoulder a firm, appreciative squeeze. Noah shrugged casually, though the effort hadn’t been small. 

“Yeah, all good. I told ya. Lays called me. Didn’t want to leave them drunk in Manny,” he said with a little laugh, but there was a weight of sincerity beneath his words. It wasn’t just a ride—it had mattered to him, even if he tried to brush it off. He acted like it was nothing, but it was something. Trent smirked faintly, his lips twitching upward. “I’m glad you were home though. I can’t handle any more secrets,” Noah admitted with a snicker, though the exhaustion in his voice was evident.

“Yeah, they seem to be piling up,” Trent agreed, his quiet laugh trailing off as they reached the dark living room. As they stepped into the room, both their voices softened as they took in the scene. You and Layla were both fast asleep on the sofas, the glow of the television flickering across your peaceful faces. Trent’s heart softened instantly at the sight of you curled up, a blanket wrapped around you as you snuggled into a pillow. Noah’s gaze lingered on Layla, her features relaxed, her body tucked into the corner of the sofa as if she were trying to make herself smaller.Trent’s eyes locked on your figure. He crossed the room silently, his steps careful not to wake you. You were barely awake, your body heavy with the kind of exhaustion that made every movement feel slow and dreamy. Trent slid onto the couch beside you, pulling you into him, his presence warm and familiar, his scent instantly wrapping around you like a blanket. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face as his expression softened into something deeply affectionate. Noah stood there for a moment, watching his friend silently care for you before turning his gaze back to Layla. He smirked to himself, knowing he’d end up with some task taking care of her when the time came. But he didn’t really mind that and for now, he’d just let the quiet settle, content to just let the night end on a calmer note as he took a seat a safe distance next to Layla.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 27 xx

[emma23]

Touch her again, I dare you :

Joel miller x reader

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It had been a relatively quiet week in Jackson, Wyoming. The town had settled into its usual routine, with everyone going about their business, doing their part to keep the community running smoothly. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the town square as people milled about, bartering for goods, chatting, and getting ready for the evening.

Y/N had just finished trading for some supplies—dried meat, a few cans of peaches, and some much-needed fresh bandages. Life in Jackson had its challenges, but compared to the world outside the gates, this was paradise. And she was grateful, especially since she had Joel.

Joel Miller, the man who everyone seemed to both respect and fear in equal measure. The man who’d been through more than anyone could imagine, who had seen and done things he’d never fully talk about. And the man she’d somehow ended up married to after a whirlwind of events that neither of them could have anticipated.

It wasn’t always easy. Joel could be gruff, emotionally distant at times, and prone to his own version of protectiveness that sometimes made Y/N want to strangle him. But underneath that hardened exterior, he was the man she loved—the man she’d built a life with, in this new world where everything felt fragile and temporary.

She adjusted the strap of her bag and turned to make her way back to their house when she felt it—a hand on her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

A man’s voice, too close for comfort: “Hey there, sweetheart. Haven’t seen you around much. You new here?”

Y/N’s stomach dropped as she turned slowly, looking up at the stranger who had dared to touch her. He was tall, maybe in his early 30s, with an arrogant smirk on his face that made her skin crawl. He clearly didn’t know who he was messing with—or rather, who her husband was.

“I’m not interested,” she said flatly, shrugging his hand off her arm and turning to leave, but the man stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Just trying to be friendly.” He reached out again, this time brushing a hand across her waist.

Before Y/N could even react, there was a low, familiar growl from behind her. “Who the fuck are you?”

The change in atmosphere was immediate. The man’s hand dropped away from her as he turned to face the source of the voice. Joel stood there, eyes cold and dangerous, his body rigid with tension.

“I’m her husband. Put your hands on my wife again, and I’ll break them.”

The stranger blinked, clearly taken aback by the sheer intensity of Joel’s words. “I… I didn’t know, man. Just thought she was—”

Joel stepped forward, cutting him off, his face darkening. “I don’t care what you thought. I’m tellin’ you now. If you so much as look at her again, you’ll be eatin’ through a straw for the rest of your life.”

Y/N couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. It wasn’t that she found the situation funny, exactly—more like she found the poor idiot in front of her utterly ridiculous. Did he really think he could just smooth-talk his way out of this?

The guy raised his hands in surrender, backing away. “Alright, alright. No need to get violent. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Good,” Joel grunted, his eyes never leaving the man until he was completely out of sight.

Once the creep was gone, Joel turned his attention back to Y/N, his expression softening just a little, but not by much. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, shrugging. “He was just some idiot. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Joel grunted, clearly still agitated. “Yeah, well, I don’t like anyone touchin’ what’s mine.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms. “Oh, I’m ‘yours,’ am I?”

Joel’s mouth twitched at the corner, his version of a smile. “Damn right you are.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her own lips. “You know, you don’t always have to go full ‘I’m gonna break your face’ mode every time some guy talks to me.”

“Not just talkin’,” Joel muttered, his hand resting on her waist now, pulling her a little closer. “Touchin’. And I ain’t gonna let that slide.”

There was something possessive in the way he held her now, something that made Y/N’s heart race a little faster. She couldn’t deny that she liked this side of Joel—this fierce, protective side that wouldn’t hesitate to tear apart anyone who messed with her. It was primal, raw, and very, very Joel.

“And what if I want to touch you?” she teased, slipping her arms around his neck, leaning up into his space.

Joel’s eyes darkened, the tension from before shifting into something else entirely. “That’s different.”

“Oh?” she smirked. “How so?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was far from gentle. It was possessive, claiming, the kind of kiss that left her breathless and wanting more. His hands moved down her back, gripping her tightly as if he couldn’t get enough of her, and Y/N found herself melting into him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down her spine.

“And you’re mine,” she shot back, her voice breathless, her body pressed flush against his.

Joel pulled back just enough to look at her, his thumb brushing across her cheek, his eyes intense. “Damn right I am.”

Later, back at their house, they barely made it through the door before they were all over each other again. Joel had barely closed the door when Y/N grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in for another heated kiss. This time, there was no one around to interrupt, no town square full of people—just the two of them, and the electricity crackling between them.

“Goddamn,” Joel muttered, his voice rough as his hands roamed over her body. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“I know,” she teased, grinning up at him as she tugged his shirt off over his head.

Joel didn’t waste any time. He scooped her up, carrying her to their bed, where he laid her down gently before climbing over her, his lips finding hers once more. Their movements were frantic, desperate, like they couldn’t get enough of each other fast enough. Clothes were discarded, hands explored, and before long, they were tangled together in a way that made everything else fade away.

In that moment, it was just them—no creeps, no dangers, no post-apocalyptic world threatening to tear them apart. Just Joel and Y/N, lost in each other, in the heat of the moment.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, catching their breath, the room filled with the warm glow of the setting sun filtering through the window. Y/N rested her head on Joel’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You know,” she said after a while, her voice soft but teasing, “you really didn’t need to go all caveman on that guy.”

Joel huffed a laugh, his fingers lazily tracing circles on her arm. “Yeah, well… he had it comin’.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his tone playful.

Y/N grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Joel’s hand moved to cup her face, gently lifting her chin so he could look her in the eyes. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “Ain’t nobody gonna touch you, not while I’m around.”

She smiled up at him, her heart swelling with affection for the gruff, stubborn man she’d married. “I know.”

He leaned down, kissing her softly this time, a stark contrast to the earlier intensity. It was tender, sweet—a reminder that beneath all the bravado and gruffness, Joel Miller had a heart that beat for her.

As they settled back into a comfortable silence, Y/N couldn’t resist one last jab.

“So… you think you could maybe hold off on threatening to break people’s hands for a bit? At least until the next town meeting?”

Joel snorted. “No promises.”

[hunyoucantresistme]

Falling for You

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pairing: biker bf! chris x reader

summary: after weeks of begging, your boyfriend, chris, had finally agreed to teach you how to ride his bike. But it didn’t go as planned and you ended up injuring yourself which led to him tending to your scraped knee

warnings: use of pet names (baby and babe too, i think), mention of injuring yourself, kissing?

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚✩

You’d always watched him with a certain sense of awe as he revved up his motorcycle, the deep growl of the engine vibrating through the ground. There was something about the way he commanded the road, the way he became one with the bike, that fascinated you. He was always so confident, so in control.

But today? Today was different.

You stood on the edge of the driveway, hands nervously adjusting the hem of your jacket, watching Chris wipe down his bike with a rag. The bike glistened under the afternoon sun, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like just a piece of metal and leather. It felt like something you wanted to conquer.

Chris turned to you with a teasing grin, “You ready, babe?” his voice was low, teasing, but there was a warmth to it, a gentleness that made you feel like you could do anything as long as he was by your side.

You swallowed hard. “I think so.”

He looked at you with an amused expression “hey, I’m putting a lot of trust in you here. Handing my baby over to you” he says, referring to his bike as ‘his baby’

You let out a chuckle “I thought I was your baby” you say with a grin, knowing the words will make him cringe

Yup,

he scrunches his nose with a laugh “ew, don’t ever say shit like that again”. He says, hugging his bike and kissing the handles while moving his ass around goofily. “Nice show, biker boy” you say, laughing at his antics.

“Alright, come on.” He motioned toward the bike with a grin. “Let’s get you on and started.”

You took a deep breath and put on the helmet before swinging your leg over the seat, sitting down with a slight wobble. The bike felt huge beneath you—heavy, powerful, and yet, somehow delicate at the same time. You straightened up, gripping the handlebars, trying to ignore the nervousness bubbling up inside you. You glanced back at him, hoping you didn’t look as clueless as you felt.

You’d always been fascinated by his bike, the way he controlled it with ease, the way it seemed like an extension of himself. You loved watching him ride, the freedom in the way he moved—like nothing could stop him. But now, it was your turn. Your chance to get on that bike and feel the same rush.

The engine roared to life beneath you and you had to strain your ears to listen to Chris, “Good. Now, take the clutch in with your left hand and slowly give it a little gas,” he instructed, his voice calm but filled with that steady confidence of someone who’s done this a thousand times.

Your fingers curled around the clutch as you gave the throttle a tentative twist. The bike jolted forward a little, and your breath caught in your throat. You kept the bike steady, feeling a small sense of accomplishment.

"That’s it. Now, ease off the clutch slowly and let it move forward."

You did as he said, the bike picking up speed with a slight lurch. Chris kept walking beside you, his hand hovering near your back in case you needed help balancing.

And then it happened, for a split second, you lost your balance, the bike tipping slightly to the side. Before you could react, it was too late. The ground rushed up to meet you, and you felt the scrape of gravel against your skin as you tumbled off the bike and hit the pavement. Luckily, chris had caught you in time so only your knees touched the pavement

You groaned, a bruise already forming on your knee making itself known. Your heart pounded in your ears as you stood up straight.

Chris had crouched down in front of you in an instant, examining your dirty jeans “Shit, you alright?”, he asks, gently brushing the dirt off your jeans. “Come on, lets get you cleaned up” he says with a smile. He didnt give you time to take even half of a step before he stood up and scooped you up in his arms. A pink tint came over your cheeks and you tried to grasp at the last straw of toughness you had left “I can walk, you know” you say with a glare though you would probably shout at him if he actually listened and put you down

He lets out a scoff, a fond smile on his lips “you’re dumb if you think I’ll let you walk after you just fell on your ass”. your glare deepened “i didnt fall on my ass”

chris grinned “then how’d you fall?”

you’d dug your own grave. Chris was grinning wider than ever and definitely expecting an answer he could tease you about “on my knees”, you muttered and you swore you heard him say “wouldnt be the first time”

Once inside, Chris picked up the first aid kit, his movements precise and sure, as if tending to injuries was something he did every day. He gently slid your jeans down, his whole focus on your scraped knees tho he did press a kiss on the inside of each of your thighs before he grabbed a clean cloth and cleaned the dirt off your knees, his touch surprisingly tender as he stayed crouched in front of you

You can tell he felt a bit guilty for letting you fall by the way his eyebrows were furrowed. He carefully placed bandages on your knees before standing up and sitting on the couch beside you, pulled you onto his lap. “Next time, I’ll make sure you don’t fall, alright?” He said, his cheek resting on your shoulder as he looked up at you with an apologetic expression.

You smiled and rubbed his back, trying to soothe his guilt “I don’t mind if you’re there to catch me,” you whispered.

He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips before pulling away and whispering back, "I always will be."

A/N i hope my english teacher’s proud 🙏 i never really got over the biker chris photos and i dont think i ever will (@middlepartmatt i already told you to keep your expectations low. Dont be too disappointed 😔🤍)

[lucimaaie]

calling ✧.* spiderwoman au

pairings - ellie williams x fem!reader

summary - you finally take ellie to meet your parents.

warnings - "your mom" gets used a lot, awkward ellie cause i love her that way, 3k word count, a bit of angst

playlist | spidey masterlist

With Ellie feeling better, things had gotten to be a new sort of normal. As normal as they could be considering. Yeah, you still woke up at night haunted by the sinister reminders of her getting hurt and she still snuck off in the wee hours of the morning to do ‘research.’ Neither of you wanted to talk about it. Other than that, your relationship was as good as can be. 

So good that you had decided to call up your parents again and set a date to have dinner with them at the end of the week, along with Ellie of course. Insert minor anxiety that climbed its way into your mind and spread like a bad virus. How would they react to her? Would they ask about the injury? You could imagine the embarrassment when your dad shamelessly went into his passionate rant about how high the crime rates were these days. 

Despite your anticipated unease, you had laid out your and Ellie’s clothes days before, bought at least something to not come up empty handed, and ran down your list of no-no topics at least twice. You knew your constant reminders were starting to annoy Ellie, but you wanted everything to be perfect. If not perfect, at least peaceful. 

"The air's gonna be blasting. You're gonna thank me for this." You were knee deep in the front closet you'd stacked up boxes neither of you wanted to deal with. That was including puffy ass jackets that caused you overheat even in winter and others you have no what demon compelled you to buy. 

"Who wears a jacket inside in the summer?" Ellie yelled from the kitchen. 

"People who have lived in a glorified icebox all their life..so me!" You yelled, thoughtlessly ripping through boxes to rummage through them in seconds. Nothing came up. You groaned, pushing them back to as much a neat state as you could, when the sound of a heavy clatter made your head snap in the direction of it. 

The luminescent blue made your limbs stiff as you started to remember where you’d seen it before. That glow that lit up the whole hallway in spite of its small size made your stomach churn in recognition. You didn’t want to think about that night, so you hastily reached for the orb and threw it into the first open box you saw, shutting the closet door behind you. 

“Bad news.” You came around the corner in what you hoped was a composed stroll.  “You might have to freeze your ass off.”

"Oh no, how will we survive in 70 degree weather?" Ellie murmured from the other side of the living room, using the window’s reflection to button up her shirt all the way up to the collar. She gnawed on her lip, brows furrowed in concentration, allowing you to sneak up on her. Or at least try. She always seemed to have a sense around these things. 

You placed your head on her shoulder, taking in the scent of her. Her natural smell was easy to pick out even under the sweet, citrusy lotion she had stolen from you. You took in a dramatic whiff and nosed at her ticklish neck just to hear her try to hold herself back from laughing. As expected, Ellie’s shoulder came up to shut your head out.  “Alright, alright.” You leaned your head on her back instead, wrapping your arms around her waist. 

“You ready to go?” 

“Ready is generous.” She talked through a deep sigh, swatting off imaginary dirt off her shirt in an attempt to make herself look presentable. She could fuss with her shirt for hours if you let her. If you had been tossing and turning, she had been grinding her teeth in and out of her sleep. 

Your hands came up to grab her wrists. “I don’t think choking one a button on is gonna get you outta this.” Your hands on her shoulders turned around to face you. A grin came to your lips as you undid a button or two, adjusting her collar so that it looked natural. One look at her confirmed she was indeed ready to meet the tough pair you’d been raised by. “You’re ready.” Before she could protest, you subdued her with a peck and keys in her hand. 

Ellie opened her mouth, starting to come up with a reply to your blind confidence in her, but she came up with nothing. She’d let you have your way this time. 

The modest stature of your childhood home gave no justice to the bustling energy on the inside. Ellie’s eyes searched the exterior, taking in all the signs that a family had been here: a worn porch swing, a wreath with artificial bright yellow flowers, cracked paint on the door, light shining through every window. 

The scrambling behind the door at your knock kickstarted a wave of anxiety through her body. She hadn’t even realized it was that noticeable until you squeezed her hand and began drawing tiny circles on the inside of her wrist. Before she could squeeze back the door opened, revealing your mom.

“Hi, Ma.” She’d never seen the woman, but she could feel the quiet grace ruminating from her serious face. The moment she laid her eyes on you, her features softened into a smile that resembled yours. She dragged the two of you in before wrapping her arms around you tight. “God, I was wondering if I’d have to get you a police escort to make you come down here.”

“It hasn’t been that long.” You were sheepish as you set down a container of rolls. They were store bought rolls and weren’t fooling anybody, but you were taught to never come up empty handed and you’d rather save yourself a mountain of questions from your mom. 

Your strong willed energy being nerfed by your mother almost made Ellie snort until the attention was placed on her. “And this is Ellie.” Your mom’s voice was filled with awe and interest Ellie didn’t know what to do with. She let herself be pulled into a hug as tight as the one she shared with you. “And how are you, Ellie? With the injury and everything?” Your mom dragged her to the living room, probably to seat her and start the interrogation. 

“Uh, I’m alright. I’m healing.” Ellie glanced between the fireplace and the woman’s warm eyes. It’s not that she hated it, the opposite actually, she just had no idea how she should feel. She hoped the wringing of her hands was subtle. 

“That’s good. I actually have something that might help—“

“You don’t have to—“ Your hand on her shoulder cut her off. She resisted the urge to sigh in relief at your presence, though she was glad you hadn’t left her to the wolves. And glad she hadn’t said that out loud. 

“It’s better if you just let her get it.” You sat next to her handing her a glass of water, leaning back against the couch with ease. 

“Get what?” The hairs on Ellie’s neck seemed to stand up when she recognized the deep, stern voice of your father who had appeared from the hallway like he was gunning to catch her doing something she shouldn’t. While she felt she should straighten up and put some respectful space between you, you hadn’t moved an inch. 

Intimidation was nowhere near your face as the man wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Hi Dad,” You mumbled into his arm, unaware of your girlfriend’s internal debate just feet from you. 

Her eyes widened when his focus was now centered on her. Her mind was chaotic deciding what she should do in his presence. Should she stand up? Hug him? God, no. What was she even supposed to talk about, work? She was pulled from her thoughts as he held out his hand. She quickly took it and returned both his firm grip and eye contact.  “Alive and well,” 

“That’s me.” She pressed her lips together in an attempt to look like she wasn’t shitting her pants trying to figure out how to impress your parents. She relaxed when he sat down and followed suit. 

There was a lull in conversation as Ellie sat there, not quite sure what to talk about for the millionth time this evening. She looked as stiff as a board, trying not to touch you (for once.) You’d have busted out laughing if she wasn’t so nervous. Instead, you slipped your arm around hers and filled the silence before your dad’s attention was gone to the TV.  “So, dad’s what’s for dinner?”

“Let’s see,” He leaned forward, grabbing the towel that was about to fall off his shoulder. “Mashed potatoes, broccoli rice casserole, baked chicken–” And just like you got him talking. About food, but still it was progress. You knew that quietness was only to save himself the air he needed to drill questions at Ellie later. “Actually, lemme go check on the casserole.”

“How’d I do?” Ellie whispered as soon as he left the room. 

In the interest of making her feel better–and not spitting out your water– you held in the urge to laugh at her paranoid behavior. “Just fine, hun.” You intertwined your fingers with hers, something you’d probably be doing the whole night just to get her not to run, and kissed her knuckles. “They’re not serial killers, I promise,”

“Your dad’s probably checking for the gun right now.” She mumbled, tracing the natural lines in your palm. For a while, you stayed like that and it wasn’t bad at all. Ellie had been looking around in search of signs you grew up here and each one made her want to squeeze you and never let go. 

“Dinner’s ready.” Your mom appeared from the kitchen, ushering the both of you to the dining room. The table was small, only having the space for the four of you and maybe one other person if you had a sibling or a friend. Four steaming plates were set around a small bowl of pinecones that were inexplicably never out of season in your house. 

Ellie had been sure to make some effort to eat throughout the dinner, but the lingering anxiety sitting in her stomach hadn’t exactly gifted her with an appetite. Her focus stayed on your hands linked under the table and endless amounts of questions from your parents. One part was gentle on your mom’s part and the other firm though your dad tried to bring it down a notch by you and your mother’s instruction. Both of them wanted to know her life story up until the moment she met you which was sweet and slightly if not very overwhelming.

Somehow she had gotten wrapped into a conversation about the job industry just from a question about what she wanted to do when she graduated. “And now they’ve got this AI stuff they’re using and that’s only the start. Soon enough-” Ellie was trying her best to keep up with your dad’s passionate rants about the future of the job industry and all, but she started to zone out.

“Dad, I think we’ll be okay for now.” Your attempts to calm him wouldn’t get him off his high horse. Once he started talking, it could be an hour long lecture. You had been on the receiving end of them enough to know. 

“But you use it for homework, don’t you?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin, having finished his food a long time ago. 

“You’d get a call from Dean if I did.” 

“Enough of the AI talk, I think we all get the point, babe.” Your mom came to the rescue. “Why don’t you tell Ellie about your job instead of why you might lose it–which you won’t.”

Your dad leaned back in his chair, stomach practically poking out from all the seconds he’d had between his rants. “Alright,” He wiped his hands once more and then leaned forward as if he was giving a statement on TV. She glanced at you for help that she very well may need later if your dad got as passionate about his job too. “I’m the police captain, which essentially means I’ve worked this precinct enough years to boss anyone around.”

“Which means you don’t do any work.” You mumbled as you tore apart your third roll in the past hour, grinning at the deadpan look you’d earned from your father. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.” He turned his attention back to Ellie. “That’s what happens when you stick it out in one job long enough. You get to make some of the decisions. You keep that in mind when you graduate.” 

“Uh, I will.” Ellie cleared her throat, squeezing your hand. She had become somewhat comfortable during dinner, but she was still on guard with the amount of part of lectures your dad had administered throughout the night. That didn’t stop her from sharing a few snickerd with you when he wasn’t looking. 

“I think you’ve imparted enough advice on us for the year.” 

“I gotta deal with bug theme vigilantes, but at least I’m getting paid for it.” 

“You mean the, uh..what’s her name? Spider..Spiderwoman. That’s her name.” Ellie seemed to perk up at the mention of her alter ego. She hadn’t even needed to glance at you to know this was one of the topics you hoped wouldn’t come up. 

“Yeah, that’s her.” Your dad’s voice was full of disdain. The same disdain you had to listen to whenever you called home and simply asked about work or the news. It stopped when they had developed something of a working relationship now destroyed by Ellie’s absence these past few weeks. “The great hero of New York. Where is she now?” He grumbled. 

Tenseness swept over half of the table at the mention, the topic a soft spot in both you and Ellie. No one knew how much she yearned to wear the suit again, how restless she was starting to feel without the very thing she had devoted herself to for more than half a decade. 

Ellie had tried to be subtle in her exit, making up some excuse about needing a refill in her cup. Your parents pointed her to the direction of the kitchen without another thought about it. Though you couldn’t read her mind, it was obvious the spontaneous mention shook her. You grabbed your plate, about to excuse yourself until your dad took the plate from your hands and stacked it on his. There goes your excuse. 

Ellie had been zoning out a while, lost in her head when your dad walked in and set the plates in the sink. She found herself on edge, readying herself for another rant about how much of a coward she was. To her surprise, that wasn’t his intention at all. 

“I was told not to give you a talk, so I’ll keep this short.”

Her eyes flicked up to your father, then to the tile for a few seconds just to return to him again. She hadn’t seemed to process what he said until he tilted his head, searching for something. She had no idea what he was looking for and it only made her more nervous, if that was possible. She seemed to be nothing more than a big ball of nerves tonight. Your parents were nice people and she was grateful you allowed them to meet her, but she couldn’t ignore the big red and blue elephant in the room. You knew. They didn’t. 

“You know, she was worried sick when we came. We could barely get her to take a nap or eat.” It didn’t take a genius to know what he was referring to. The fact that he brought it up was making her feel any better either. 

“I know.” Ellie shifted on her feet, pulling her arms over her torso. She couldn’t focus on finding the right balance of eye contact or not looking how she felt. Her mind was working overtime to try to find what to say. It was enough to struggle to get you to trust she was safe, she hadn’t thought about your parents. Though an apology felt inadequate at this moment. 

“What I’m trying to say is she cares for you. A lot.” Your dad wrung out the towel and placed it over the counter, turning around to mirror Ellie’s position against the counter. “I mean, you’re the first one she’s brought home.” Something of a smile crossed your dad’s face. It shouldn’t have been such a strange thing to notice. No matter how tough he made himself out to be, at the end of the day, he was nothing but a dad protective of his daughter. She could never be mad at that. There’s nothing she wouldn’t give to experience that again. 

“Don’t mess it up.” His sternness came back to snap her out of her mind. 

She pushed herself off the counter. I’ll try my best, she thought. No, that wasn’t good enough for you. “I won’t.” 

“I will be holding you to that–”

“Dad! Ellie!” Your voice boomed from the living room. The confused pair moved fast past the abandoned dining table to the TV. The set up of panels from the news were familiar save for the live feed of the demon masked assailants wreaking havoc on a traffic-infested road in the middle of the city. And just to add to the chaos, a significant prison transfer was taking place on the same road. 

Ellie had been too focused on the screen to realize your dad had already grabbed his gun and his car keys on the way to the door. He was the police captain, of course he was on his way to the danger. Her only problem was working up the excuse to get there herself. Her eyes came to yours, somewhat asking for permission. Her heart ached at the visible stress in your body, the way you squeezed your hands together. 

“I’m gonna go–” 

“Ellie’s gotta run to the lab,” You blurted, surprised yourself by the words that came out your mouth. There was no amount of regret that could take the acceptance back. Why would you when there were people in those cars, praying they don’t lose their life to today’s batch superpowered criminals? That’d be selfish, would it? Thought that justification did nothing to soothe your worries. 

“I’m coming back, I promise.”

thank you for reading!

[mrsdillonx]

IIIIII HAVE A REQUESTTTTT

dallas winston having to sneak out of reader’s room in the morning once he hears everyone (her family) waking up????

𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 - (𝐝.𝐰. 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

w.c. - 715

warnings - swearing and thats it

a/n - first imagine! i rlly hope u like it! also i hope you don’t mind but i sort of implied reader is a soc. but ty for the req!❤️

———————————————————————

the early morning light shone through your lace curtains, casting a glow on you and your boyfriends faces.

it stirred you awake, and as you blinked your eyes open you yawned and sat up, stretching. you heard rustling beside you, then as if on cue, two big muscular arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer and back down on the bed.

“mm.. stay.” you heard a gruff, raspy voice mumble. you turned to look at your boyfriend, bushing his dark hair back out of his face that was smooshed in the pillow.

you giggled softly and yawned, wrapping him in a hug, pulling his head to your chest. he tightened his grip on you, exhaling softly.

you both lay like that for a few good moments. but when you adjusted your head you got a decent glance at your alarm clock.

7:08 am.

shit.

“dallas, get up,” you spoke quickly, shoving him off, to which he protested. he was supposed to be gone by six. your parents wake you up for school way too soon.

“wha- what the fuck?” he grouched, sitting up. he faced you with an irritated look on his face to which you pointed to your alarm clock and he glanced over. his once tired eyes grew panicked.

“oh, shit.” he whispered and flung the covers off. he swung his legs over the side of the bed and climbed out, the squeak your bed made didn’t help your case. you winced and climbed out of bed just as he grabbed his discarded jeans and put them on. and just as he was buttoning them, you heard your mothers morning alarm go off.

“dallas, hurry!” you whisper shouted, scurrying over to the window and opening it and then tossing him his shirt. “i’m goin’, i’m goin’.” he muttered.

he pulled the dark shirt over his head, and then you heard your mothers bedroom door open. a million alarms went off in your head and you ran over to the door, leaning against it. if your mother caught a greaser, let a lot dallas winston in your bedroom, you both would be dead.

you watched as dallas got on his hands and knees, searching for his boots. “jesus fucking christ,” he muttered as he strained to grab the black boots he saw somehow under your bed. when he reached them he went to sit up but ended up smacking his head on your bed frame. “ouch! fuck!” he whisper shouted.

“shhh!” you hushed, scurrying over to him and holding the back of his head. “you gotta be quiet, dal, are you alright?” you spoke softly.

“i’m fine, toots.” he grumbled and stood, stepping into his boots. then another sound: footsteps.

shit, shit, shit.

you ran back over to the door, leaning against it in case your mother tried to come in. dallas grabbed his coat off the back of your chair in the corner and threw it on, patting down his pockets to make sure he had everything.

then there was a knock on your door. you and dallas froze and made eye contact with wide eyes.

“sweetheart, are you awake?” your mothers soft voice called.

“uh- uh uh, yeah. i am. i’m changing.” you spoke shakily, praying the anxiety in your voice wasn’t prominent.

“okay, darling. breakfast is almost ready.” she spoke softly and you both stayed still for a moment longer before they went silent.

your shoulders both relaxed and dallas chuckled, walking over to you. “it’s not funny!” you breathlessly laughed, swatting his chest. his hands came around your waist as he kissed your cheek.

“it’s just a tiny bit funny.” he smiled down at you. “you were supposed to be gone by six sharp, mister.” you spoke with a cheek grin and poked your finger into his chest.

“yeah, yeah,” he chuckled leaning down to kiss your lips. you smiled against the kiss and brought your hands up to rest on his chest. when he pulled away, he kissed your forehead once. “i’ll see you tonight, gorgeous.” he smiled and pulled away, waltzing over to your window and leaving out of sight.

you smiled at him, shaking your head. as the adrenaline slowly started to calm you walked over to your dresser and actually began to get dressed.

———————————————————————

comment on this and i’ll make a tag list!

[thebekashow]

Both arms cradle you now..

CHAPTER 2!! :D

Jinx put on her robe, hiding her face as she grumbled angrily. "I should've kept that dumb piltover suit. heat of the moment." she snarked to herself, before looking at her braids. "They'll know it's me." she carefully grabbed her braids, before tucking them into her shirt. "this ain't comfy." she sighed "the things I do for you, sis."

Isha stared at Jinx as she talked to herself, Vander's brows furrowing as he rumbled softly. Jinx's nose scrunched as she tried to adjust her hair, before feeling Isha's hand tug her arm. Isha stared at Jinx, smiling as she put on her helmet. "heh. leave it to you to always try and follow me." she smirked, jostling Isha's helmet before carefully throwing a blanket on top of vander, the ends covering his ears. "..are you gonna be okay Vander?" Vander looked up at Jinx, his vision constantly shifting to her younger face.. Powder. he nuzzled her softly, both their foreheads pressed together as he purred, as a means to assure her.

Jinx grabbed her Zap Zap blaster, putting it in her belt, along with her makeshift bombs. "alright. let's go save bitch-mittens." Jinx scoffed, rushing out the door as Isha followed. the two dashed over each building, remaining out of sight.

Vi paced in her cell, at least it wasn't stillwater. she began to rethink it all. was really becoming an enforcer, the wisest choice. Caitlyn left her there in that hole, whimpering like a dog. She chose wrong. She always chose wrong. "what happens to them, falls on you." she could hear those words echo in her head. "shut up." she mumbled, gripping her hair. Vander was alive now, Caitlyn had turned around, sure, but it felt so shallow. she sighed softly, before punching the wall. "FUCKING HELL." she barked, slamming the bars as they rattled. "Which one?" she heard Jinx ask. "Never thought my sister would turn a blue belly." "SHUT UP." she barked, slamming at the bars before being face to face with Caitlyn. "What do you want?" she scoffed. "you took me in. now what.". Caitlyn's eyebrows furrowed at Vi's comment. "Look, I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I asked you to be an enforcer.. I-" she paused, seeing Vi's frown evident. "Sorry doesn't fix any of this, Cupcake." Vi said, moving her hands around the bars. "I may have turned myself into an enforcer but.. you turned yourself into something else entirely."

"I'm sorry about all of this. I never should've asked this of you. or made such rash decisions. or put the grey in those pipes. or shot at you. or.. Or even ARRESTED you, but. I.. my mother.." Caitlyn said, covering her mouth. "Jinx. everything. it's all happening so fast and I never had a second to think or even TRIED to think. I should've let you stay at the manor, I should've never given you the badge but it just felt right at THAT MOMENT. the funeral?? everything made it feel WORSE. you have to understand that.." Caitlyn said, rubbing her temple. "and. and now i've dug myself into this hole of messes. Jayce is missing."

Vi started, looking Cait up and down before adjusting her posture. "I'll help." Vi finally responded, Caitlyn's eyes lighting up a bit. "but that doesn't mean I'm over this yet."

Jinx slid down the roof, Isha on her shoulders as the blue haired duo looked around for any guards. "Alright, squeaker. lets save Vi.." Jinx chuckled, setting Isha down. Jinx grabbed one of the tiles and slammed it into the window. She grunted in approval before helping Isha through the now broken window, and then sliding in herself. The two stared around in awe, a bit shocked by the decoration. "How does Vi's girlfriend live?" Jinx muttered before walking around. "you live this luxurious life, no wonder Zaun was ignored.". Isha noticed a large painting, humming at Jinx as she pointed. There was Caitlyn, Her Father, and her mother. Jinx stared at the painting, a look of regret forming onto her face. "That's.. Caitlyn. and her parents. before I blew everything up. literally." Jinx explained, the memory slowly sinking into her head. the explosion, the missle hitting Piltover's Counselors.. and killing Cassandra Kiramman in the process. "It's all your fault. this all happened because of you." the voices were slowly sinking in, Jinx grimaced, trying to block them out. before feeling Isha's hand hold hers. Jinx flinched, looking down. "c'mon. no more dilly dallying." she sighed, giving the mute girl's hand a gentle squeeze, before they walked down the halls, looking for Vi.

"There's a man, he's the reason behind Shimmer. he was inside Stillwater, when something attacked the prison and killed half the guards there. Ambessa said something to him, but I wasn't sure what it was.." she explains, getting close to Vi. "It was about the monster.. and something about you and Jinx." "Vander." Vi whispered softly, her eyes widening. "Is that all you heard..?". "no." Caitlyn shook her head. "The beast is connected to blood. and that Ambessa would give this stranger whatever he wants. in return for her service." Caitlyn looked at Vi, her brows furrowing. "Ambessa isn't what she seems, Vi."

Jinx gently twisted the vent, before kicking it, attempting to get it off faster. "oh come. on." she snarled, kicking harder. "Okay okay. feet don't work, what if.." Jinx slammed her head onto the vent shaft, her body sliding on the floor as she laid there for a second, before getting up. "ha! works every time." she scoffed, triumphant. Isha rolled her eyes, smirking before looking around in confusion. "It's weird that piltie didn't put her in stillwater." Jinx mumbled before joining Isha in her glances. "We've been looking for hours. and I can't help but feel like we're going in circles." She grumbled, before hearing voices. "shh, someones coming." Jinx hushed, before her and Isha retreated into the vent. "The commander was down in the mines, and came out with a Zaunite. We think she was looking for the beast on her own, so we had guards go with her." A deep voice whispered to another. "You can speak without whispering. nobody knows we're here." A feminine voice scolded. "Kiramman is distracted. That's all I care about. Is there any news on my Daughter?" "No ma'am, we've looked everywhere for Mel Medarda, but it seems she's disappeared off the face of the earth." "..I see." "I'm truly sorry." "Leave. I wish to be alone." "Yes ma'am."

Jinx slowly peaked from the lines, hearing heavy footsteps, before a shadow swam past the hiding spot. "First my son, And then my daughter. What more does this witch want from me." the voice whispered. "I've brought my own children into this mistake. And now. now they pay the price." A shuddering breath came out, before a sharp sniff. "Stay strong. one error, one measly little failure, cannot distract me." they growl, a large thud hitting the wall, causing both Jinx and Isha to shake from the impact.. before they rushed away. Jinx laid still for a while, before peeking out of the vent. "..I think she's gone."

[wagconts]

Chef Gavi | Pablo Gavi

summary :: Where you and Pablo record a video for YouTube making a chocolate cake.

warnings :: none...!

word count :: 0.790k

Your YouTube channel was growing rapidly, and interacting with your fans was one of your favorite things. Recently, a specific request had been popping up in the comments: “Do a cooking video with Gavi!” or “Gavi in the kitchen, please, we want to see you two together!” You loved the idea, but your excitement really kicked in when your boyfriend himself asked to join one of your videos.

— So, love, when are we making that chocolate cake? — he asked, a mischievous smile on his face as you both sat on the couch.

— Do you really want to join? Because I don’t want anyone complaining if you mess everything up. — you teased.

— Me? Mess up? You’ll see, I’m going to be the star chef of this video! — he replied confidently.

It was a sunny afternoon, and you’d carefully set up the kitchen for the shoot. Gavi walked into the room wearing an apron that read "Chef Gavi" and one of those iconic chef hats. Just looking at him, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

— What’s so funny? I’m in character! — he said, striking a dramatic pose.

— Alright, Chef Gavi. Let’s see if your talents go beyond the football field.

You adjusted the camera and began the video introduction:

— Hi, everyone! Today, we have a very special guest, someone many of you might know — You glanced at Gavi, who pretended to be distracted. — He’s amazing on the football field, but can he handle the kitchen? Let’s find out!

You both decided to make a simple chocolate cake, but things didn’t go quite as planned. While you explained the ingredients, Gavi decided to take matters into his own hands.

— Love, why are you cracking the egg like that? It’s going to spill everywhere! — you warned, already predicting the disaster.

— I saw a chef do it like this; it looks more professional. — And, of course, he ended up cracking an egg on the counter.

You tried to stifle your laughter as you cleaned up the mess. — Congratulations, Chef Gavi. First attempt, and we’re already in cleanup mode.

Next came the sugar. Distracted, Gavi poured almost twice the amount needed.

— Pablo! What are you doing? This is going to turn into a sugar brick!

— What? You said a full cup. Isn’t this full? — he asked, holding up a giant mug.

— Sweetheart, there’s a difference between a cup and a mug, just so you know.

— Well, you didn’t tell me that. — he shot back, heading to the cabinet to look for a proper measuring cup. — Is this it?

He held up a small white cup, and you nodded. With a proud grin, he returned to the counter.

When it was time to mix the batter, Gavi insisted on using the electric mixer, even though you explained the batter was light enough to do by hand. The real issue came when he forgot to turn off the mixer before lifting it out of the bowl. Chocolate splattered everywhere: on the counter, the camera, his apron… and even on your face.

— Look at what you’ve done! — you exclaimed, laughing as you tried to wipe your face. —Don’t forget to turn it off next time!

He looked at you with a sheepish smile. —Everything’s under control, Chef! Just trust me.

Despite all the mishaps, the batter finally made it into the oven. You and Gavi even had fun drawing little chocolate swirls on the top before baking it. While waiting, Gavi turned to you with a smug grin.

— See? I told you it would work out. It was just a little mess along the way.

— A little mess? This counter looks like a battlefield! — you replied, pointing to the chaos around you.

When the timer went off, you both pulled out a perfectly baked cake. Decorating the cake was a team effort, with Gavi spreading the frosting while you added sprinkles and other toppings.

— And here it is, everyone: the chocolate cake by Chef Gavi and Chef [Your Name]! — you said to the camera.

After wrapping up the recording, you both sat at the table to taste the cake. Gavi cut a slice and offered it to you, pretending to be overly fancy.

— I’ll admit, it’s good. But I think most of the effort was mine. — he joked.

— Sure, sure. Next time, we’ll see if you can do it on your own, Chef Gavi.

You both laughed, and the video ended up becoming one of the most-watched on your channel, with fans loving every moment of the chaos and your undeniable chemistry.

[toxicbrothel]

Hey friend!!!! You know what I'm here for.

PUT THE CARTER IN THE BAG!!!

I kid I kid. I am asking respectfully for some Carter content. I give you full creative freedom! Just seeing my boy in silly scenarios makes me giggle and kick my feet. uh. in a manly way of course!

special blend

Brothel scene 🎬: Carter x Vampire Joel, 1k

Carter finds vampire cozied up by the outdoor fireplace near the pool: wearing a cardigan and reading an old book with his glasses on. "hey, uh, Vampire Joel?" Carter asks

Joel looks up from his book. "It's just Vamp."

"Right, sorry. Mind if I?" Carter looks at other chair, then sits with vamp's permission. The chairs are angled toward each other as well as the fireplace. Good, Carter thinks, won't have to talk too loud. Carter spreads his knees and fidgets with the handwritten fic he's holding as he watches Vamp close his book. Vamp's hands are in good shape for a man of his age. Carter gives him his fic and says, "Appreciate ya doin' this, man."

"Any time," Vamp replies and the sparkle in his eye makes it sound earnest. Carter gives him a little background on the fic. His deep blue eyes light up when he talks about reader, and a forehead vein emerges when he talks about Bad Ideas. Vamp nods thoughtfully, then recaps, "So it's an Alt. Ending, to a non-canon fic that's an AU of an AU?"

"Yeah," Carter confirms, looking down. He smooths his massive hands down his pants and tugs at the knees of his pants as he adjusts his sitting. Pants are never quite long enough for those legs. Doesn't matter, except in this weather.

Vamp adjusts his glasses, then unfolds the fic and his eyes go wide right away. "Okay," he whispers, and adjusts his posture.

"Aw, shoot," Carter realizes. "Forgot the damn warnings."

Vamp waves him off. "You're good."

Vamp starts reading the fic. He raises his eyebrows and bites his lip, then looks up over his glasses and a smile plays on his eyes. "Gonna watch me read it?" He teases Carter.

Carter holds up his massive hands in playful defense, then braces his palms on his knees and stands up. "How 'bout a drink," Carter offers.

Vamp agrees without looking up.

Carter returns with a pint of dark beer for vamp and a bottle of the same for himself. You could be forgiven for thinking it's an 8oz bottle the way his paw cradles it.

They pause to clink their drinks, and when vamp sets down his drink, he holds up the fic and says, "it's, uh," he chuckles. "Jumps right in, huh?"

"Too much?" Carter asks.

Vamp shakes his head nah then clears his throat and immerses himself in the fic again.

Carter looks at the night sky, but in the corner of his eye, can't help but notice vampire Joel adjust himself. Carter blushes from the chest up and tries not to smile.

Vamp puffs his cheeks out an exhale, then mutters "God damn," and takes a big gulp of beer before turning the page over.

Carter feels heat moving to his loins and rests his cool beer bottle there. The bottom of it nudges his balls through his pants.

Vamp finishes the fic and glances at the beer bottle Carter is holding like a dick. Vamp folds the paper back how it was, then hands it back to Carter.

"what'dya think?" Carter asks, eyes searching vamp's face for an honest opinion.

"didn't have to make it that hot," vamp laughs.

"hot? you think so?" Carter asks

"uh. Yeah," Vamp chuckles and a hint of pink creeps up his neck. He scratches the back of his neck "It's nice, too. You kinda protect'em both, her and sweet pea"

"exactly, exactly. Okay good," Carter nods. "Cause i ain't mad at sweet pea." As Carter's nerves fade, he's more aware of his semi.

-

They each take a sip of their drinks, then look at each other in silent recognition.

"Been curious about ya, man," Carter admits.

"yeah?" Vamp holds his pint glass loosely in his hand and gently swirls it once. "Ask away."

Carter thinks. "Shoot I dunno, just, your life, man."

"well gimme somewhere to start," Vamp laughs.

"alright, the ladies," Carter starts.

"just the ladies?" Vamp asks.

Carter stares for a moment, then cracks a smile as he sits back in his seat and takes a sip of beer, not taking his eyes off Vamp. He swallows, then says, "You tell me," firelight flickering over his face.

Vamp relaxes back in his seat and shakes his head. "Before I found my special, didn't know what they were gonna look like, what parts they'd have, didn't care.... The monthly bonus is nice though," he admits.

Carter squints with a smile, "there it is."

Vamp continues, "Special aside, Never been about gender for me. More like a vibe, a feeling, even a....anyway"

"even a what?" Carter asks.

Vamp gets a little embarrassed. "A scent. Like. A beautiful unique fragrance. Somethin' y'all can't really smell."

Carter nods. "Nah, that's cool. Kinda hot."

Vampire raises his eyebrows in a question that doesn't get answered.

"so before reader," Carter moves on, "d'ya get to enjoy a few other smells?"

Vamp chuckles, "more than a few." Sparing Carter another question, he adds, "yeah, men too, women, plenty of'em. Nobody like her though." Vamp's eyes beam.

"That's cool, man," Carter nods. "Never knew who was gonna light up that sniffer, huh?" They both laugh. "Nah, I get it," Carter says, "I get it."

Carter lifts his ass off the seat and tugs the knees of his pants again. Vamp looks at the sliver of ankle skin exposed and his brows furrow.

"what am I, a Victorian lady?" Carter teases.

Vamp shakes his head at himself with a small smile, then offers, "I was just thinkin' maybe you could use some special socks."

"Special socks?"

Vamp holds out his arm. "Feel this," he offers. Carter grabs vamp's bicep, sending a little rush to his chest. Vamp laughs, "the fabric, too."

Carter blushes with a silent laugh and mutters, "whoa," when he realizes the amount of heat bathing his palm. He feels up vamp's strong arm again, hands gliding over the hard curves. He pinches the fabric. "`what is it?" His fingers trail down the sleeve. Vamp's fingers lightly brush Carter's for a moment, and neither of them flinches nor lingers too long.

"special blend," vamp answers, and hugs his cardigan around himself

"no shit," Carter nods.

They sit in silence for a while. When they stand up, vamp gestures toward Carter's pants, then Carter realizes he's looking at the piece of paper. Vamp says, "hey, get me a copy of that, will ya? Your other stuff too."

Carter runs his hand through his hair. "really?"

"yeah," Vamp nods. "I'll get ya those socks."

-------

--++++

[livwritesstuff]

Hey! I’m a big fan of your work.

Do you think any of the Harrington girls ever try out dna testing kits? Either to find relatives or just know heritage/potential heath issues. Could be an emotional minefield tbh.

oooh i LOVE this question

short answer is: yes, the girls definitely do dna kits (as should all adoptees but that’s just my opinion, i suppose)

the longer answer is that the girls decide (without any input from their dads, who didn’t even know about this discussion) to wait until all three of them are 18 so that all three of them can get their results at the same time (foster-care things etc. etc.).

steve is perfectly fine with them waiting, not because he has anything against his kids learning about their heritage, but because he’s very much anti-companies collecting/storing his personal info. He won’t join facebook, refuses to get an alexa (he even has siri disabled on his phone), and definitely doesn’t love the idea of a corporation having his genetic information, so he kind of needed the time to get past the alarm bells going off in his head about his daughters’ safety in that regard.

he does get past it though, and steve and eddie buy the kits as an 18th birthday gift to hazel in september of 2024. eight weeks later, they get the results.

the ancestry composition is interesting, of course, and steve and eddie get at least some relief from the health profiles because that had always been a total mystery to them.

the girls end up learning that they don't really have any extended family on their mom’s side, which isn’t really a surprise — that’s how moe ended up in foster care to begin with — but it still is disappointing given how their mom died when they were little and they all had questions about her that they hoped could get answered someday.

the big surprise is that moe has a different bio-dad from robbie and hazel, which…does not go over well, understandably.

on the whole, it's not exactly a joyous experience, per se, but it never was going to be. kids don't enter the foster system for no reason, and parental rights don’t get terminated for shits and giggles. steve and eddie saw it as their responsibility to be as upfront about the circumstances of their daughters’ adoption as they were allowed to be (and as was age-appropriate), so the girls were prepared for the results being, at a minimum, complicated.

still, the Harrington family vibes are off for a while after they get the results.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

just shy

[gojocon]

first kiss — gojo satෆru

mdni, fem!reader, smutty but no p in v, 1k wc, childhood best friend satoru, he just wants a kiss (you make out with something alright…), the first kiss that isn’t on his cheek :’) reader can’t say no (i couldn’t either tbh), extremely premature ejaculation, satoru is desperate and sensitive, maybe he likes being looked at like he’s a freaking weirdo...

you don’t know how exactly you found yourself in this situation.

“c’mooooon, just one kiss?”

satoru holds up his forefinger to emphasize his words, a childish pout playing on his pink lips.

you roll your eyes, feeling a slight heat creep up your cheeks as you avoid his gaze, avoid all of him, trying to maintain your resolve.

“ugh, no satoru. don’t be weird.” you mumble, voice strained.

his eyes widen in response to your rejection, but sensing your wavering stance, his eyes narrow, and he proceeds to push further.

“why not? you kiss me all the time!” your best friend whines, pout growing more pronounced when he juts out his lower lip further, making him look even more adorable. those eyes of his sparkle with mischief as you shift on your knees, exasperated at his persistence.

you try to maintain a strong front, you really do. but the boy, no, the man in front of you had a certain power over you even after so many years, and you were helplessly weak when it came to him, when it came to satoru, your annoyingly endearing best friend since childhood.

“this is different, ‘toru. it’s silly, you know it is.” you try reasoning, voice laced with a hint of warning.

your tone does nothing to put him off, however, and he simply shuffles closer, transfixed on your lips before heaving out a dramatic sigh. beautiful eyes well up with crocodile tears as he gazes down at you, voice taking on a pleading tone.

“please, pretty? just one liddol kiss?” he whimpers before leaning in close, face inches from yours, warm breath whispering against your skin.

you can’t help but glance down for a moment to school yourself, before looking back up to his face, your own flustered in embarrassment. you hope it’s quick enough that he doesn’t see, but satoru notices the aversion, he always does. he knows you so well, better than anyone.

“you’re not scared, are you?", he teases suddenly, a big warm hand now padding along the soft skin of your cheek.

a shiver runs down your spine as his breath caresses your ear, his words sending a spark of desire down your body.

there’s a subtle twitch in the muscles on your face once you process his question, evidently irked by his words. at this, your best friend flashes you his infamous goofy grin. his demeanor had changed rather quickly from his performance a mere sentence ago in a way that was hopelessly satoru.

despite your better judgment, you can feel yourself melting at his touch, crumbling in the face of his charms.

a deep, stuttering sigh leaves your lips, voice firm with an air of finality. “fine. only one, and that’s it.”

his gaze shoots back up and locks onto yours the moment those words leave your mouth. big blue eyes fill with a heart fluttering affection and a certain heat, a look you were all too used to, a way best friends should never look at each other, and a familiar feeling of warmth spreads through your chest.

a triumphant smile spreads across satoru’s face and he lets out a whoop of excitement, face lighting up, and you can’t stop the small smile curling onto your lips as he quickly adjusts his position, spreading his legs slightly as he leans back, giving you more room to shimmy yourself into, which you do without question.

“go on, give me a kiss.” he sighs, breathless in anticipation.

you decide to end his suffering and give him what he wants. with reluctance, you lean forward, inching close until your lips hover over a way too adorable shade of pink before you’re planting a quick, wet kiss onto the tip of his cock.

it’s just a peck, but you can feel the shudder wrack through his body at the small contact and he lets out a soft gasp, eyes rolling back to his skull.

“mmmph . . .”

pulling back, his hips make a desperate attempt at following you with a jerky movement, but fail miserably. his cock was erratic in its movements, with a mind of its own — it was big enough to have one anyway — twitching, bobbing and most of all, sensitive, like all of satoru.

“why did you move away?!”, your best friend whines like a petulant child, brows pinching together and eyes once again glimmering with tears, though this time, they were quite real.

“it was kissing you back too! don’t you love me? you’ll give me more, right? i’m your best friend, you should — ”

he babbles on, brainless and dumb, as if a single kiss from you triggered an onslaught of neverending desperation. you watch him, startled, brows knitting together in mild irritation, looking him right in the eye before backtracking to the achy, leaking, baseball bat he calls his cock.

“o—oh god! please, don’t look at me like that—”, he barely manages to strangle out in a moan, clutching the couch cushions on either side of him in a tight grip to ground himself, knuckles white.

his hips lurch forward, a spurt of hefty pearlescent droplets shooting out from the top before running along the side of his length, shirt stained and ruined.

“h—hah . . . hnghhh — ”

your breath hitches at the overwhelmingly erotic sight, throat going dry. continuing to look on in poorly concealed amazement, unable to look away (did you even want to?), pupils dilating as you take in the copious amounts of thick, white cum dribbling out of his shaking form. satoru’s body jolted with each rope of his load, eyes fluttering closed in what seemed to be pleasure, but almost bordering pain.

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that your best friend just nutted cause you kissed his cock.

[anythingneverythingnstuffs]

shower sounds

It was wrong. It was immoral.

But Simon 'Ghost' Riley couldn't help himself. He just couldn't.

You were his neighbor. His sweet, smiling, food-bringing goddess next-door. You had shared conversations with him, a few bottles of wine from time to time, too many cookies for him to count- you shared walls with him.

For the most part, the walls you shared with him weren't a problem. Sometimes you had your TV volume up too loud, sometimes you sang a bit too loudly to whatever music you were listening to, but that never bothered Simon.

Sometimes he could hear your cat jump up to her cat tower. He could always hear (and sometimes feel the vibration) when she would launch her chubby self up to the tower, and the tower would always knock against the wall you shared with Simon. It made him scoff quietly every time. He had a fondness for that fat cat, whether he would admit it out loud or not.

Maybe her owner, too.

His excellent hearing was partially to blame, so he never made it to be a big deal. He never wanted you to know he heard you that much, didn't want to make you feel bad for some reason.

And those noises really weren't all that bad. In fact, he looked forward to hearing those mundane sounds. Sometimes a cupboard would close a bit too loudly; he never imagined you being the type to go randomly slamming cupboards shut, and he would wonder if you were alright. If he didn't hear anything else, he wouldn't worry as much.

It was a different kind of noise that Simon 'Ghost' Riley was bothered by that came from your unit. Noises, rather. And it was always one kind of noise that led to another…

The first time it happened, he felt almost ashamed of himself. Almost. Maybe he'd be more full of shame if he hadn't felt so damn good after.

Simon had been lounging on one end of his couch, TV remote in hand. He was switching between channels when he heard the familiar sound of your shower turning on. 

There was always this almost ringing-like sound that would come through the building's old pipes when the water was on, especially in the showers. The sound was always the same when the shower turned on, though if you adjusted the spray of the shower head, it would become higher or lower pitched depending on the intensity of the stream of water.

He heard you turn on some music before he could hear the shower curtain being drawn back and forth as you probably stepped into the shower, naked-

Simon shook his head, trying to focus back on the task at hand, picking something to watch on TV.

But there was nothing on.

He decided to give up on that. Right after his television went black, he heard the familiar high pitched noise of the building's old plumbing go up a few levels.

Simon wouldn't have thought anything of it if his apartment hadn't been dead quiet, and if he hadn't heard a small moan through the shared wall between you.

Simon's eyes widened as he listened, his ear turned towards the wall now so he could listen more closely. He could hear the harsh spray of your showerhead, his mind racing with what you could be using it for and where the stream was being directed on your body.

He felt a spark of something, and his body began to respond to the intimate sounds you were making that echoed into his apartment through the wall. His breathing began to slow and he closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds. He could hear your soft whimpering and short gasps even clearer now.

A lump began to form in his throat as his body continued to react, his heart racing with excitement. His hand instinctively went to his groin, his fingers tracing the outline of his growing arousal. He knew he shouldn't be standing there, his ear on the wall between you, his eyes closed, listening to you pleasure yourself in the shower-

But he just couldn't help himself. The sounds were drawing him in, making him feel like he was part of something intimate and-

Simon's eyes snapped open, and he moved away from the wall, trying to compose himself. He couldn't believe he was getting turned on by listening to his sweet, adorable, sweets-and-food gifting neighbor getting herself off in the shower. He needed to put some distance between you. He needed to get out of there, to clear his head and calm down.

He had taken the first step to move into another room when he heard a faint whisper through the wall.

"Oh, yeah..."

Back against the wall he was.

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was stuck, his ears glued to the wall, listening to the sounds coming from the other side.

The sounds were getting louder, and Simon could hear you more clearly now. You were whimpering and moaning, your breathing a little shallower now.

He continued to listen, unable to move away. His breathing was ragged and sharp, his body reacting to every single noise on the other side of the wall.

Simon's hand went back down to the waistband of his jeans, his fingers tracing the material. He felt a shiver go down his spine as he realized what he was about to do, but he didn't stop himself.

He unbuttoned his jeans, his hands moving urgently as he listened to the sounds coming from the other side of the wall. He was getting more and more turned on as he heard your moans and whimpers growing louder, the sounds getting more frequent.

He shoved his jeans and boxers down in one swift movement, his other hand grasping his already rock-hard length.

He stroked himself slowly, his hand still pressed against the wall, his ear inches from the spot where your voice seemed to be coming from.

His eyes closed once more as he imagined what you might look like, pleasuring yourself in the shower, as he stroked his throbbing cock, already glistening at the tip with precum.

To keep his own pleasured sounds from getting too loud, in fear that you would hear him and maybe stop, he bit down on his own tongue, quickly tasting copper in his mouth as a muffled groan escaped his lips.

He imagined you in the shower, how wet you must be in so many ways, how slick your skin was as you touched yourself, and how much you wanted this, needed this release just as desperately as he did.

With a low growl, he began pumping his shaft faster, harder as he imagined your wet skin, your curves, your breasts, your ass... He could picture it all so vividly, thanks to the erotic symphony playing through the thin wall separating them.

He was stroking his thick, angry cock faster now, his hips rocking slightly, the sound of his own heavy breathing mingling with the distant echoes of your pleasure-filled cries.

"Fuck," he heard you whisper breathlessly before letting out a soft whine. You were getting close. He could tell.

So was he.

The sound of your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Simon found himself matching the rhythm of your strokes, pumping his own cock in time with your breathy pleas.

His grip tightened around his shaft, the veins bulging as he worked himself closer to the edge. The image of you touching yourself, lost in pleasure, fueled his desire, making him ache to be inside you.

He could almost taste you on his tongue, feel your slick heat enveloping him as he thrust deep. The fantasy was so real, so intoxicating, that he swore he could smell the sweet musk of your arousal carried through the thin partition.

A guttural groan tore from his throat as he quickened his pace, chasing his impending climax. Precum dripped steadily from the tip of his cock, leaving a sticky trail on his fist as he pumped faster, harder.

Then, he heard what he had been waiting for most of all, a sound he knew was coming but wasn't sure what exactly it would sound like. And it was more delicious than he could have ever imagined.

He heard you cry out through the wall, in the shower, as your orgasm washed over you. He really hoped that your sound of released pleasure distracted you enough to not notice his own.

Simon's entire world narrowed to the sound of your climax, a whine that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of his reality. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, and it shattered his last semblance of control.

He knew he was about to be loud. He needed to do something, fast, that wouldn’t mean biting his tongue or lip off-

Simon bit down on his clothed arm as he came undone, his orgasm ripping through him like a hurricane while the pain from biting his own arm threatened to tip the scales of pain and pleasure towards the former, but maybe that made him like it even more. Hot spurts of cum spurted from his cock, painting the wall he leaned against in thick, viscous streaks. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out the aftershocks, his vision flashing white behind clenched eyelids.

When Simon finally returned to Earth, he was left looking at the aftermath of his actions as he caught his breath, breathing in and out with his eyes closed, still listening intently through the wall just in case you had any more delicious sounds in you.

masterlist

[nappingmoon]

modern au where your husband nanami is a literature professor and he sits you on his lap while he reads essays and prepares lecture material. he gets so used to the weight of you on his thigh, the warmth of your body against his, that eventually, he finds that he cannot focus without you there.

nanami is a little sheepish when he enters the living room, hemming a little bit in a way that’s very uncharacteristic of your lover. your eyes stray from the show playing on the television, now curiously tracking his small movements. you pause the contents on the tv before greeting him. “hi baby, you okay? how’s grading going?”

nanami’s hand reaches up to adjust his glasses before he releases a little sigh. “not well, my love.” his voice is quiet, the deep timber a comforting sound. he walks into the kitchen as he continues, “I’ve been working on reading these papers, but I find my mind straying far too much.” he finishes his sentence while pouring water into the kettle, placing it then on the stove.

“is that so?” you ask, leaning over the arm of the chair, enjoying, as always, the sight of your lover doing mundane tasks— the domesticity of it never ceasing to affect you, even after years of marriage. “where’s your mind been going?” despite the question, you have an idea and the smile on your face betrays it.

nanami hesitates as retrieves two cups from the cupboard; the beautiful, delicate china a wedding gift that has become the staple for holding your evening teas. “you, darling. though it is becoming apparent that you already knew that, tease.” he grumps at the end without malice.

“I assumed, but I always love to hear it.” you giggle in return. “want me to come keep you company?”

he’s nearly done pouring your teas, steeping the loose leaves in your favorite tea holders. “yes, please. if you’d like, you can watch your show in the room. I just prefer you do it next to me.”

“that’s alright, I was getting bored of it anyways. plus, i’d rather watch that quirk in your eyebrow when you find that your student has used ‘perchance’ incorrectly again.”

“minx.” he chides. “keep making fun of me and i’ll forget to put in your sugar.”

“I yield! I yield,” you laugh, raising your hands high in defeat. “it’s far too bitter without the sugar, I don’t know how you make do.”

the small spoon clinks as he finishes stirring in your honey and sugar, and he lays it down in the sink before picking up the cups, each sitting in their own decorated porcelain plates. you rise from the couch, quickly pressing the ‘off’ button on the remote before padding over to your husband.

you gently nudge your way under his arm, wary of the tea he’s carrying, and nuzzle yourself into him. you walk in tandem to your room approaching the warm glow of his desk lamp. “I don’t need any more sugar; you’re enough for me, sweetness.”

a/n: you can’t just say perchance