#i Need to sleep please Ignore all Of this

[killerpancakeburger]

Well-placed Trust

Tags: f!reader (boobs involved), civilian!reader, protective!reader, fluff + smut, Ghost is Pleased and shows his gratitude, sorta Ghost version of Sleeping Beauty. 1k words.

Gaining Simon Riley's trust was not something you ever planned to achieve. However, now that you've had it, you were fiercely protective of it.

This would explain why, when you heard the door to Ghost's room randomly opening, and your eyes flew to the skull mask laying on his desk— barely a meter away but it might as well have been on the other side of the ocean—, your first instinct was to launch yourself at him. Bluntly shoving his face into your chest without warning, in hopes to conceal it from the newly arrived trespassers, and wrapping your arms around his head in a desperate attempt to hide his hair as well.

Nevermind that he's trapped right between your breasts.

You throw a mildly accusatory stare at the entrance, and coarse laughs ring out, followed by a barely believable apology.

“Oops, sorry. Wrong door. Didn’t mean to interrupt!”

You let out a relieved sigh as the door closes. However said relief is quick to vanish as you realize Simon hasn’t reacted at all this whole time. Not a word, not even a grunt; not a move, not even to repel you. 

You let go of him like you've been burnt, even raising your hands in surrender.

“Sorry! Are you mad? I panicked, I was just trying to—”

Your waterfall of apologies brutally ceases when, after attempting to back away, you're stopped short by his embrace. You don’t know when he wrapped his arms around your waist. His expression still out of sight, anxiety nags at you, despite the logical part of your mind emphasizing that if he was actually angry, there's no way he'd demonstrate it by hugging you. 

So you insists.

“Ghost?”

“Mmh.”

The sound is raspy, unbothered. He idly rubs his face against your torso, and the motion is enough to make your crotch throbs with arousal. Inhaling sharply at the unexpected sensation, you clench your thighs together.

“Simon,” you call again, trying to sound severe this time.

You have absolutely zero reservation in granting all the hugs he might crave, but surely they could be performed in a less… compromising position. Lest you end this cuddle session squirming with want. And a burning face. And the imperative need to never cross the lieutenant ever again, for fear that you'd spontaneously combust with mortification otherwise.

“‘M not mad.“

The gruff, familiar voice appeases your tension a little— the emotional one, that is. Not the physical one.

“You're not? You have a right to b—”

“I trust you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the confession. You suspected it, hoped for it— but hearing it out loud is another matter entirely. Simon Riley is a man of few words, but the ones he does pronounce are always sincere, to the point of bluntness. For him to feel the need to spell it out loud, it has to be important.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You've put my comfort over yours, no questions asked. Couldn’t be more pleased, love.”

The gravel in his voice does funny things to your stomach— why, why, why? It never had that effect before.

You try to ignore the signals sent by your body, instead passing a hand behind your neck in self-consciousness. 

“Oh… well. It was nothing. I'd do it again in a heartbeat—”

“You've been so good to me, sweetheart. Don't ya think you deserve a reward?”

Your brain short-circuits. Your skin gets even warmer. Surely you misheard him.

He finally unsticks his face from your chest, resting his chin above your sternum, only to stare with the start of some impatience drowned out in warmth and fondness.

He's a vision, one that takes your breath away and causes heat to pool in your stomach.

Heavy-lidded eyes, disheveled hair, ardent stare, he's a languid, lascivious mess.

“I need an answer. Preferably in one word. Yes, no, fuck off…”

In other, normal circumstances, you would have stayed mute from the shock, or helplessly stuttered, but the imperative desire to not disappoint him, to preserve the contentment he displays, takes over.

“Fuck. Yes.”

The low chuckle that escapes him in reaction to the eagerness of your reply makes you bite back a moan. Your hands close into fists on the back of his shirt.

He lifts your shirt— "hold this for me, love"— and effortlessly frees your chest from your bra. The second your skin is bare, he presses his face back into it, nuzzling against it with a blissful sigh.

With one hand busy grasping your top, and the other clinging onto his shoulder for balance, there's nothing you can do but submit yourself to his ministrations.

It's your turn to sigh in pleasure as he proceeds to kiss an invisible line between the bottom and the top of your breast, fingers stroking the curve between your ribs and your nipple.

“Never dreamed you'd let me get my face on those, love.”

Groggy, it takes a conscious effort on your part to register what he's saying.

“Such a generous thing. It's only right you get payback.”

“You're very… talkative all of a sudden.”

“S'that a problem? Think I'm not putting my tongue to use enough?”

Right after that, said tongue swirl around your nipple and you can feel yourself clench around nothing.

“Or maybe that's just not your thing,” he adds, casually, as if he hadn’t been shamelessly gropping, kissing, licking and sucking your chest.

“I never said that.”

Your reply had been straight off, out of fear that he'd take offense and puts a stop to all this.

“You know what to do to shut me up, anyway.”

You don’t react to his provocative tone, but you’re tempted by the invitation nonetheless— to muffle that smart mouth with your bust…

Just as his focus on your breasts threatens to not suffice you anymore, his thumb insistantly rubbs the apex of your thighs, and you push back against it openly.

“Easy there, sweetheart,” he soothes you, but you can see how pleased he is by your eagerness. “M just gettin’ started.”

Soon enough he disposed of your pants, and he's parting your knees to nuzzle against your inner thigh the way he was against your chest mere moments ago. You can’t help but close them partially, and instantly he's staring you down, eyes brimming with taunt.

“Gonna smother me with your thighs, sweetheart? Like you did with your tits, mh? Better be prepared in case we get ‘interrupted’ again.”

“Fucking hell, Ghost,” you groan, half exasperated, half even more aroused, as he finally steers his head towards your crotch.

[redroomreflections]

Sorry For Your Loss

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: What if WLWD met TLH but even more tragic?

Note: I was fighting my sleep to write this. Enjoy and don't hate me lol

Warning: Super angst, mention of drunk driving, major character death.

ONLY READ IF YOU LIKE PAIN

Note: I’m too excited for my flight in a couple of hours. I was itching to write when this came into my head. 

The house feels suffocatingly quiet, an eerie stillness settling over every room. The absence of laughter and playful shouts from the children creates a palpable void that echoes in Natasha’s heart. It’s too quiet. The walls, usually vibrant with the sounds of life, now seem to absorb the sorrow that hangs in the air like a heavy fog. The television flickers in the background, casting an unnatural glow across the room, but no one is watching. It’s just noise—an attempt to fill the silence with anything, but it fails miserably. The news anchors drone on, their voices muted by the weight of grief that envelops them.

The clock ticks ominously in the background, reminding everyone that the funeral is only an hour away. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of fresh flowers and the faint smell of coffee that no one seems interested in drinking. The cars would be arriving soon. Six children and a host of in-laws—how would they all fit into the designated family car?

Chase, your older brother, paces restlessly near the door, glancing toward the driveway. “Where’s Natasha? We need to get going,” he mutters, frustration seeping into his voice. No one has a real answer. They can feel the tension thickening around them, a shared anxiety that clings to the group like a shroud. Melina rises from her seat and walks toward the master bedroom, her hand poised to knock when Natasha emerges from the house's shadows. Her face is fresh and unreadable, an expression honed by years of practice in concealing emotions. The light from the doorway casts a soft glow around her, but her eyes betray nothing—no hint of the storm roiling within.

“Is everyone ready?” she asks, her voice steady yet distant.

Melina pauses, taken aback by Natasha’s calm demeanor. “We’ve been waiting for you. The car will be here any minute,” She replies, her tone softening. Natasha nods and walks past her, her steps silent against the hardwood floor.

"Where are the boys and Paige?" Natasha takes a headcount of the children in front of her. There are several but a few of hers are missing. She spots Cara cuddled into her Nana's side.

"They're upstairs," Peyton announces lowly. "They're refusing to come down."

"What do you mean they're refusing?" Natasha's eyebrow quirks.

"Exactly what it sounds like, Tasha," Yelena pipes up from her spot on the couch.

Natasha narrows her eyes at her sister and turns on her heels, climbing the stairs with determination. She ignores the pictures lining the walls. She doesn't bother looking at your photos. It hurts too much. The house feels cavernous and hauntingly silent, the absence of laughter amplifying the thud of her heart as she approaches the children's rooms. She can feel the tension coiling in her chest.

At the top of the stairs, she glances down the hallway, her mind racing with thoughts of what you would say in moments like this—words of encouragement, perhaps a reminder that it was okay to feel vulnerable. But today, she is the rock, and she cannot falter.

“Boys! Paige!” she calls out, her voice firm yet gentle. “You need to come downstairs. It’s time.” She waits, hoping for some sign of movement, a response that might break through the cloud of grief surrounding them.

Silence.

“Please!” she adds, softer this time, her heart aching for them. She thinks of how you would have approached this, with warmth and understanding, coaxing them out with stories or gentle humor. But those tools feel out of reach for her right now. The air in Paige’s room is thick. Natasha stands at the doorway, taking in the sight before her: Luke, just three years old, is perched on the edge of the bed, his tiny legs swinging rhythmically as he absentmindedly fidgets with his loose tie. Beside him, James, eight and usually so full of energy, sits slumped against the wall, staring blankly at the floor, his tie hanging loosely in his lap.

Paige sits in the center, the picture of a little girl trying to be brave. She wears a sleek black dress that flares slightly at the waist, her hair intricately styled in braids adorned with delicate black clips. But it’s the hot pink sneakers on her feet that draw Natasha’s gaze, a stark contrast to the somber attire they all wear. They were the last pair you had bought for her, a small gift meant to brighten her day, and now they feel like a painful reminder of the joy that has been snuffed out.

Natasha's heart aches at the sight, a wave of grief crashing over her. She wants to break down and cry, to let the tears flow freely, but she holds herself together, knowing she must be strong for her children. The weight of their loss presses heavily on her chest, and she feels a knot tightening in her throat.

"Hey, what's going on?" She kneels before them.

“We are not going,” Luke answers first, his tiny voice filled with defiance, his brows furrowing as he crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“No. We are staying,” Paige declares with an earnestness that stabs at Natasha's heart, her small body taut with determination.

James pulls at the collar of his button-up shirt, a look of sheer discomfort painted on his face. “I’m not wearing this,” he complains, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Why not?” Natasha asks, her voice cracking just a bit, betraying the emotion she’s trying so hard to suppress. “You all look so beautiful.”

James shakes his head vigorously, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t want to look beautiful,” he replies, his frustration spilling over. “I want to stay here!”

“We don’t want to say goodbye to Mommy,” Paige supplies, her voice trembling as she fights back tears. The admission hangs in the air, heavy and painful.

“No, no, no,” Luke utters his agreement, kicking his feet against the bed, each thump echoing his dissent. “I want Mommy to come home!”

Natasha feels the tears pricking at her eyes as their innocent cries pierce through her heart. “I know, I know,” she whispers, her breath hitching. “But this is how we show her we love her. By saying goodbye.”

"But why?" Luke asks, tears streaming down his face as he becomes increasingly upset.

Natasha sighs, her heart breaking for her young son. "Because that's what happens when we love people. Sometimes, we have to say goodbye. Remember where I told you Mommy is?"

Luke sniffles. "With the angels."

"That's right, baby. She's in a place with lots of love. But we still have to say goodbye." Natasha strokes his cheek softly.

"Will she be okay?" Paige looks at Natasha with wide eyes, her chin quivering as she struggles to keep her composure.

Natasha smiles weakly, her eyes misty. "Of course, she will. And we will too. Because she'll always be with us, right here," she places her hand on her heart, a gesture that was so you, and one they were familiar with.

"I already lost two Mommies now," Paige says solemnly. "It makes me sad."

Natasha takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. "I know, my love, but your mom will never be gone. She's always going to be right here with us." She taps her chest again. "If you really don't want to go I won't force you. I will, um, I will see if we can get one of the neighbors to come and stop in. Whatever makes you happy. Where's Charlie?"

"She's already downstairs," Paige says quietly, her shoulders slumping.

"Okay," Natasha nods. "I, um, gosh. I'm sorry. I don't really know what to say right now." She admits.

"But you always know what to say?" James tilts his head. "Are you sad too?"

Natasha swallows, fighting back tears that threaten to spill. “I am,” she replies, her voice shaking slightly. “I would like to say goodbye to your mommy because it brings me closure. It gives me peace.” The words feel heavy on her tongue, laden with the weight of the reality they all face.

James looks thoughtful, his small brows knitting together. “Will it help you feel better?” he asks, searching her face for answers.

“I hope so,” Natasha says gently, placing her hand on his leg. “It’s important for us to honor her and remember all the good times we shared. It’s okay to be sad, but it’s also okay to remember the happy moments.”

“Like when she taught me how to ride my bike?” Luke pipes up, his voice brightening just a bit. “And we went so fast?”

“Exactly!” Natasha encourages, her heart swelling with love for her children. “And all the times she read you stories before bed. Kissed your booboos. We can share those memories today.”

Paige perks up slightly at the mention of stories, a small flicker of interest sparking in her eyes. “She always made the best pancakes, too,” she adds, her voice softening.

Natasha nods, grateful for the direction of the conversation. “Yes! And how she would let you pick the toppings. Do you remember that one time she made a huge stack and put ice cream and strawberries on top?”

“Yeah!” Luke giggles, his laughter a small, bright note in the heavy atmosphere. “And then I spilled syrup all over my shirt!”

"Exactly," Natasha breathes. "She's the reason we have all these memories. It's not goodbye forever. I promise. And she will always watch over us. It will never be goodbye." She reassures. "Just a see you later."

Paige seems to think about it, her expression contemplative. She looks down at her pink sneakers and then back up at her mother, a question forming on her lips.

"Can we tell everyone a memory at the funeral?" she asks quietly, her voice wavering.

"Of course, you can," Natasha says. "Everyone will love to hear."

"Good. Because Mommy loved stories."

"She did."

"How about you go and find your sisters and I'll help your brothers finish getting dressed," Natasha suggests. "The car should be here soon."

"Okay, Mama," Paige slips off the bed and makes her way out the door.

Natasha takes a deep, shaky breath, exhaling slowly as she turns her attention to her sons. She does Luke first and he doesn't put up a fight. He's quiet the entire time. Her youngest is still processing the grief.

Natasha moves to James. "Hey, kid. Let's get you looking good for Mommy. Do you want your black shoes or not?"

"Can I wear the ones Mommy bought for me too?"

"Of course, baby."

"The spiderman ones?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll go get them."

James runs off to the closet and Natasha turns her attention to Luke. "We're almost ready. How are you feeling?"

"Sad."

"I know."

“Mama, is Mommy sad?” Luke asks, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes.

“What do you mean? Is she sad where she is?” Natasha asks, her voice gentle but steady, hoping to guide him through his thoughts.

He nods slowly. “She probably misses us so much. That’s what she always says when you go on vacation.”

Natasha feels a lump rise in her throat at his words, the reality of your absence cutting deep. “You’re right,” she replies, brushing a thumb over Luke’s cheek. “I know she misses you. She loved you so much, and I know she wishes she could be here right now.”

Luke looks down, the sadness etching deeper into his young features. “Will she come back?” he asks, his voice trembling.

Natasha swallows hard, knowing that this is one of those moments she wishes she could shield him from the harsh truth. “No, sweetheart. She won’t come back. But she’ll always be with us in our hearts, in our memories. And we can talk to her whenever we want. We just have to think of her and remember all the love she gave us.”

Luke furrows his brow, contemplating her words. “Like when I think about her making pancakes?”

“Exactly,” Natasha encourages, her heart swelling with pride for her son’s understanding. “You can always remember those moments. They’re special.”

Just then, James returns, a pair of Spiderman shoes in hand. “Can I wear these?” he asks, excitement creeping back into his voice despite the heavy atmosphere.

“Of course, baby,” Natasha smiles, relieved to see a spark of joy return to his eyes. “Let’s get you looking sharp for Mommy.”

As she helps James with his shoes, Natasha reflects on the gravity of the day ahead.

"Mama, why do there have to be drunk drivers?"

"I don't know, buddy. I really don't." Natasha attempts to focus on getting his feet in his shoes.

"That's what killed Mommy."

"Yeah. It is."

"I don't understand."

"There's a lot in this world we will never understand."

"Why?"

"Sometimes, life is cruel. And unfair." Natasha begins. "Sometimes people make bad choices that they have to live with."

"What if they can't live with it?"

"Then they can't change it. No time machine can turn back the clock. All we can do is remember your Mommy for the kind, loving, warm, funny, and brilliant woman she was." Natasha says.

"And how much she loved us."

"Yeah. She really did. And she was proud of all of us."

"Did we make her happy?"

"Very," Natasha nods. "Now, are we all ready?"

"Yes," James takes a deep breath just like you practiced.

"Good," Natasha exhales. "Let's go then. We can't miss Mommy's funeral."

Luke is the first to grab her hand. He squeezes her fingers tightly, the small gesture conveying a depth of emotion that words could never express. James joins in, holding onto her other hand as they descend the stairs together.

"I did Charlie's hair," Cara offers as they meet at the bottom of the stairs. "She was a little upset about it but I did it."

"Thank you," Natasha murmurs, squeezing her daughter's shoulder.

The doorbell rings, breaking the fragile calm.

"It's here," Melina announces, her voice thick with emotion. "Time to say goodbye."

As they gather by the front door, a heavy silence settles over the family, the enormity of the moment weighing heavily on their shoulders.

Natasha feels her heart racing, the tension coiling in her chest like a spring, ready to snap. She feels an overwhelming sense of emptiness settles in her chest. The warmth of Luke and James's small hands in hers provides some comfort, but it feels inadequate against the crushing weight of grief. Even with her family surrounding her, she feels more alone than she ever did when she was a spy or on the run, moments that, in hindsight, felt almost thrilling compared to this void.

The door swings open, and they step outside into the cool air. The family car awaits. Melina moves to help the younger ones, but Natasha remains still for a moment, staring into the distance as a rush of memories floods her mind—laughing with you in the kitchen, planning birthday parties, marking anniversaries that now feel like distant dreams.

Her heart aches at the thought of the anniversary circled in big red on the kitchen calendar, a day they had planned to celebrate together. Now, it serves as a painful reminder of the life that was supposed to be, a future now out of reach. The promise she made to you—to keep your family together—echoes in her mind, a vow she knows she must honor despite the challenges ahead.

“I can’t do this alone,” Natasha whispers to herself, though the words feel heavy and hollow. She hasn’t slept in her own bed since you passed; the sheets still smell like you, and the thought of facing that emptiness alone is unbearable. Her appetite has vanished, save for the muffin Cara brought her this morning—an attempt to nourish herself that felt almost futile.

“Are you okay, Mama?” Luke asks, his innocent concern snapping her back to the present.

Natasha forces a smile, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Just thinking about how much your Mommy loved all of you.”

James looks up at her, his face serious. “We can make her proud today, right?”

“Yes,” Natasha responds, her heart swelling for what felt like the millionth time today. “We will make her proud.”

As they approach the car, Natasha feels the weight of her family behind her, their collective grief palpable but also a source of strength. She knows she has to find a way to keep moving forward, not just for herself but for all six of the children depending on her.

mentioning that this is completely au and purely au and not real.

[rootedinrevisions]

Unplanned Journeys: Part 1

SUMMARY: You’ve been feeling off—tired, anxious, and full of doubt. When the realization hits that you could be pregnant, your world shifts. As you struggle with the weight of the situation and avoid Jake, the truth becomes impossible to ignore. When you finally tell Jake, the conversation is filled with tension and fear.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the Anon who sent the request for this in! I hope you enjoy it! Also, there will be AT LEAST two more parts to this coming. I haven't decided yet how long I want to make this story quite yet.

WARNINGS: Angst. Unplanned pregnancy.

WORD COUNT: 4.1K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

It started as something small—just a slight sluggishness that you chalked up to long hours and a busy schedule. After all, everyone had days where they felt off, right? You didn’t think much of it at first. Maybe you hadn’t been drinking enough water or were pushing yourself too hard at the gym with the new workout routine you had taken up. But the fatigue lingered, heavier than usual. The exhaustion hit you mid-morning, the kind that left you wanting to crawl back into bed despite a full night’s sleep.

By day three, the headaches came. Sharp and persistent, not debilitating but enough to make focusing at work a struggle. You found yourself squinting at the screen, rubbing at your temples, wondering if your caffeine intake had anything to do with it. Coffee had always been your crutch, but suddenly it wasn’t helping. That in itself seemed odd—coffee usually gave you a little boost, but lately, it just left you feeling more nauseated than energized.

As you sat at your desk, half-listening to a Zoom meeting you were supposed to be engaged in, you absentmindedly reached for your phone. Flipping through your calendar, you skimmed the past couple of weeks, your thumb freezing as a realization crept in. You were late. Not by a lot—but enough to notice.

You glanced at the calendar again, frowning. Surely, it couldn’t be that. Your cycle was sometimes a day or two off. It wasn’t something to worry about. But still… you couldn’t shake the feeling, the quiet voice in the back of your mind that whispered that maybe this wasn’t just an irregular month.

No. You shook your head slightly, trying to clear the thought. You were on birth control. You and Jake had been careful. This was just your mind overreacting, connecting dots that weren’t there. But then a new thought slithered its way into your consciousness. A few weeks ago, you’d been sick—laid out with that stubborn cold. You’d gone to the doctor and gotten antibiotics.

Antibiotics…

Your breath caught in your throat as you suddenly remembered the doctor’s warning. Something about your birth control being less effective. At the time, you’d been too focused on just wanting to feel better, not giving much thought to how the medication could affect anything else.

The nausea from your coffee earlier that morning felt more like a bad omen now.

You leaned back in your chair, your heart thudding a little harder in your chest. No. It couldn’t be that. You were just being paranoid. But now, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The headaches. The exhaustion. The nausea from foods that had never made you nauseous before. Your pulse quickened as you stared at the calendar, connecting the dots. Could it really be? The thought hung there, weighty and terrifying. What if you were…?

The panic bubbled up, threatening to spill over, but you pushed it down. You needed answers, not speculation. You couldn’t keep spiraling like this. There was only one way to know for sure.

Without a second thought as soon as you were clocked out at 5:01pm, you grabbed your keys and purse, practically bolting for the door. There was a CVS just a few blocks away. The sooner you took the test, the sooner you could put this fear to rest.

As you hurried toward your car, your thoughts raced alongside you, a thousand different scenarios flashing in your mind. What if it’s positive? What would Jake say? Would he leave?

The short drive back to your apartment felt like miles, the little white CVS bag clutched in your hand felt heavier than it should have been. Each minute only magnified the gnawing uncertainty in your chest.

The moment you stepped through your front door, the cool air of your small apartment hit you, but it did little to calm the heat of your rising anxiety. You shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as if delaying what you knew you had to do would somehow make the looming possibility disappear.

Your heart raced as you walked to the bathroom, the test still tucked in its box as though keeping it sealed would keep the truth hidden a little longer. You set it on the counter, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You looked tired. Your skin was paler than usual, dark circles faintly visible under your eyes. Maybe you were just exhausted. You had been working on a project at work that had a pretty tight deadline. Maybe it was finally catching up to you. Maybe you were imagining all of this. Making up something that wasn't there.

With a shaky breath, you turned away from the mirror, reaching for the box. The sound of the packaging tearing open seemed too loud in the quiet apartment. You took one of the two pregnancy tests out and set it on the counter. Your hands trembled slightly as you read over the instructions, even though you didn’t really need them—you knew how this worked. Open the package. Pee on the stick. Wait. But reading them gave you a few more seconds before facing the truth.

You took a deep breath and finally did what needed to be done. Afterward, you placed the test down, careful not to look at it yet, and set the timer on your phone. You couldn’t bear to watch the lines form, so you forced yourself to sit down on the edge of the bathtub, pressing the heels of your palms into your knees, grounding yourself while you waited. Three minutes felt like an eternity.

Your mind raced, jumping between panicked thoughts and desperate rationalizations. There was no way. You and Jake had been careful, hadn’t you? You’d been taking birth control for years with no issues. And yet… there had been that one night, the night you felt better after being sick. You remembered how he had pulled you close, his warmth intoxicating after those few days of feeling terrible, his touch erasing the last of your discomfort. It had been one of those spontaneous moments, the kind you didn’t overthink. But now, it felt like maybe you should have.

The timer on your phone went off, snapping you out of your thoughts with a jarring sound. You inhaled sharply, your heart thudding hard against your chest as you reached for the test. With your hand trembling, you flipped it over, your breath catching in your throat.

Two pink lines stared back at you.

Your vision blurred as the world seemed to tilt for a moment. No. You blinked hard, clearing your eyes, then looked again.

Two pink lines.

You felt the floor drop out from under you, a heavy weight settling in your stomach. You set the test down, unable to keep looking at it, and hurriedly reached for the second test in the box. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe you’d done something wrong. Hands shaking even more now, you repeated the process, this time pacing the bathroom as the second timer ticked down.

But deep down, you already knew.

The timer buzzed again, and with a knot tightening in your throat, you picked up the second test.

Two pink lines stared back at you, a confirmation you weren’t ready for.

You sat back down on the edge of the tub, the reality of it all sinking in, a cold rush of panic sweeping over you. This couldn’t be happening. How could this be happening? 

Your thoughts went to Jake. How would he react? Would he freak out? Would he be upset? Would he leave? End things with you? Your chest tightened at the idea of telling him. You’d only been together a few months, and even though things were going well, you couldn’t help but feel that this would be too much, too soon.

You pressed your hands to your face, trying to steady your breathing, but your mind wouldn’t stop racing. Images of Jake flashed through your mind—his charming smile, the way he’d pull you into his arms without a second thought, the lighthearted banter that had drawn you to him. Your relationship was going strong. But was that enough? Were you enough? Would it be enough to survive something as life-changing as this?

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away. Crying wouldn’t help. You needed to think, to figure out what you were going to do next. But your thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear, uncertainty, and—oddly enough—a tiny flicker of something else. Something you didn’t want to admit. Hope.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought aside. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to be feeling this lost, this scared, not when the rest of your life could be so drastically altered by a couple of pink lines.

But there was no denying it now. You were pregnant.

And you had no idea what to do next.

The next morning, the reality of what had happened still weighed heavily on you. It had settled in overnight, creeping into your mind every time you closed your eyes, so sleep was hardly an escape. You lay in bed longer than usual, staring at the ceiling, the events of yesterday playing on a loop. The two pink lines. Your pounding heart. The panic that had taken root in your chest, now a constant, gnawing ache.

But beyond the overwhelming fear of your situation was an even greater question: Jake. How were you going to tell him? Or… should you even tell him yet?

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling you out of your thoughts. You didn’t have to check to know who it was. Jake had sent a text earlier in the morning—a simple “Good morning” with a smiley face—and you had left it unanswered.

Now, a second message appeared, more direct this time:

Jake: You okay? Haven’t heard from you.

You swallowed hard, staring at the screen. You didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t know how to talk to him without the weight of your secret making everything feel wrong. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard as your mind scrambled for something—anything—normal to respond with.

You: Yeah, sorry. Been busy.

You stared at the message for a moment, guilt settling in your chest as you hit send. You hated how distant the response felt, hated how you couldn’t bring yourself to say more. But what could you say?

The seconds stretched on before your phone buzzed again.

Jake: Busy? You trying to avoid me?? ;)

The words on the screen were playful, a light jab that might’ve made you smile any other day. But today, it only made you feel worse. He was catching on. Jake always had a knack for reading people, and now he was reading you, seeing right through your weak attempts to act normal.

You set your phone aside, deciding not to answer for now. You’d figure out what to tell him later. But for now, you just needed space. Space to think. Space to process. Space to make sense of the storm that had taken over your mind.

The day dragged on, and you kept your distance. Every time your phone buzzed with a message from him, your anxiety spiked, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to respond beyond brief, one-word replies. You were trapped in this bubble of avoidance, knowing full well that it wasn’t sustainable but unable to break free of it just yet.

Later that evening the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over The Hard Deck as you stepped inside. The familiar sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, but they felt distant, almost muffled, as you made your way to the bar. 

Jake was already there, leaning against the counter, chatting with a few of the guys. His laughter rang out, and your heart sank a little. How could you keep this secret from him when he looked so carefree?

“Hey, you made it!” Jake grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he reached out to pull you closer. You forced a smile in return, feeling the weight of your secret settle heavily on your chest.

You settled onto a barstool beside him, ordering a Diet Coke, the bubbly drink a stark contrast to the cold beer he and the others were enjoying. As Penny placed your drink in front of you, Jake’s gaze narrowed slightly.

“Diet Coke?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not feeling under the weather? I thought you’d be grabbing a beer with me.”

“Just not in the mood for one tonight,” you replied, trying to sound casual.

“Come on, it’s Thursday night! You can’t tell me you don’t want to kick back with a cold one.” He leaned in closer, a playful grin on his face. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me.”

You chuckled lightly, but it felt forced. “I just have a lot on my mind with that project deadline tomorrow I told you about.”

“Just thinking about work, huh?” he asked, his voice low, laced with concern. 

You nodded, a little too quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor in your hand as you raised the glass to your lips. 

Later that night after beating Rooster and Bob in games of pool Jake made his way back over to where you were still sitting on the bar stool. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. You sure you’re okay?” He said as he put his hand on your back and began gently rubbing it.

“I’m fine,” you replied, a little too rehearsed, the words falling from your lips like an empty promise. “Just a lot on my mind with that deadline tomorrow.”

“Right.” He nodded, though the frown on his face told you he wasn’t entirely convinced. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, but instead of the warmth you usually felt, you tensed.

You could feel him studying you, as if he were searching for something just beneath the surface. His touch, usually comforting, felt heavy now. “You’re not really laughing tonight,” he pointed out, the concern in his tone deepening. “I mean, that joke from Phoenix was hilarious, and you didn’t even crack a smile.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “Just a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Jake tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “You sure that’s all? Because it feels like something else is going on.”

You swallowed hard, the truth lingering just beneath your tongue. He deserved to know, but the thought of revealing your pregnancy sent waves of panic coursing through you. Instead, you looked down at your drink, tracing your finger over the rim of the glass. “Really, Jake. I’m just... thinking about everything.”

“Okay, but you know I’m here for you, right?” His voice softened, and you could see the worry etched across his features. “If you need to talk, just say the word. I can take you home. We can go back to my place. Whatever you want.”

You nodded again, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I know. I appreciate it.”

The night wore on, and the laughter and camaraderie around you seemed to grow louder while you felt more isolated in your thoughts. As Jake tried to draw you back into the fold, the distance between you only seemed to widen. Each time he reached out, you instinctively pulled away, hiding the truth that threatened to spill from your lips.

You were trapped in a delicate dance, and with each passing moment, the weight of your secret pressed heavier against your chest. You took a deep breath, knowing that soon, you’d have to face him. But for now, all you could do was keep the facade intact, holding on to the last threads of normalcy before the storm would break.

When Jake asked you to meet him at The Hard Deck the following evening, your heart sank. He was trying, reaching out to spend time with you like always, but the idea of seeing him, pretending that everything was normal, felt impossible. Your chest tightened as you typed out your reply.

You: Can’t tonight. Sorry.

You could almost imagine the confusion on his face as he read your message. Normally, you would’ve jumped at the chance to meet up with him, to sit at the bar with him, sharing drinks and flirty comments. But not tonight. Not now.

You spent the evening in your apartment, pacing, thinking. The truth was suffocating you, and the longer you put off telling him, the worse it became. But fear gripped you every time you thought about saying the words out loud. What if this changed everything? What if Jake didn’t want this? What if he… walked away?

The knot in your stomach twisted tighter at the thought. You tried to shake it off, tried to reassure yourself that you were overthinking things, but the fear wouldn’t let go.

You didn’t know Jake’s thoughts on kids, on the future, on anything beyond the easy, carefree nature of your fairly new relationship. And now, this could upend everything.

When your phone buzzed again later that night, you ignored it. You couldn’t deal with it. Couldn't deal with him. Not yet.

But avoiding Jake was harder than you expected.

The next evening, as you sat curled up on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, you heard a knock on your door. Your heart skipped a beat. For a moment, you froze, staring blankly at the door. Who would be at your door right now?

Another knock. Louder this time.

Your pulse quickened as you pushed yourself up from the couch and made your way toward the door. You peered through the peephole, and your stomach dropped.

It was Jake.

You hesitated, every muscle in your body suddenly tense. He had come to see you. Maybe he was worried. Or maybe he was just tired of your evasiveness. You couldn’t tell. All you knew was that he was here, standing on the other side of your door, and you had to face him.

With a shaky breath, you unlocked the door and slowly opened it. There he was, standing in the hallway, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets, his usual easygoing smile playing on his lips. But there was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite read.

“Hey,” he said, looking up to meet your eyes.

He leaned in slightly as if to kiss you. Instinctively, you took a small step back, the distance between you immediately noticeable.

Jake’s smile faltered.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with concern. He tilted his head, studying your face. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. Didn’t even want to meet me at the Hard Deck tonight. That’s not like you.”

You swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve just… been busy,” you muttered, knowing how weak it sounded.

“Busy. Right. Well, your deadline at work was up at 4:59, so what's your excuse now?” Jake repeated, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Are you avoiding me? Is something wrong?”

Your chest tightened as he pushed, his words cutting through your thin layer of avoidance. He wasn’t letting this go. And you didn’t know how to handle it.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, avoiding eye contact. “It’s nothing.”

Jake stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “You sure about that?” His voice was firmer now, the playful edge gone. “Because this isn’t you. You've barely texted me all week. Then you acted like you were trying to avoid me like the plague last night at the bar. You blew me off tonight, and now… what? You’re acting like you don’t even want me here?” He paused and just looked at you, shaking his head. "Do you want me here? Do you want me to leave?"

The guilt hit you like a tidal wave, and you could feel your emotions starting to bubble to the surface. You tried to swallow it down, to push the panic aside, but it was too much. The pressure was too much.

“Jake, I—” You stopped, biting your lip as your vision blurred with tears you hadn’t realized were forming. “I just… I don’t know how to—”

He took a step forward, his voice softening again. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It's just...you're scaring me, babe. You're making me think you're trying to hide something. Just talk to me. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. But don’t shut me out like this. ”

You blinked, fighting back the tears. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to tell him. But fear kept your throat tight, the words trapped inside.

He reached for your hand, his touch gentle, and grounding, but even that felt too much right now.

You pulled away, stepping back toward the living room.

“I… I don’t know if I can do this right now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jake frowned, confused. “What do you mean? Can’t do what?”

You knew you couldn’t avoid the truth much longer. 

“Jake, I’m pregnant.” you blurted out, your voice breaking. The words spilled out before you could stop them.

The room went completely still. For a moment, Jake didn’t react, his expression frozen in surprise as if he hadn’t quite processed what you had just said.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your ears. “I… I took a test a few days ago. It was positive.” The words felt heavy, hanging in the air between you, and you could barely look at him. “I didn’t know how to tell you… I didn’t even know how to deal with it myself.”

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, as Jake stood there, his gaze locked on you. You could see the shock in his eyes, the way his mind seemed to be working through what you had just revealed. Your stomach twisted in knots, the fear bubbling up again. You had no idea how he was going to react. No idea what this meant for the two of you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back, processing. His face was unreadable, and the silence between you became unbearable.

“I… I didn’t see that coming,” he said finally, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look at him. “Neither did I,” you whispered, your throat tight. “I’ve been freaking out, Jake. I didn’t know how to handle this. I didn’t know if I should tell you, or if you even—”

He held up a hand, stopping you mid-sentence. “Wait… did you think I wouldn’t want to know? Were you thinking about not telling me?”

His tone wasn’t angry, but it was laced with disbelief, and you realized what you had implied. Your heart clenched as you met his gaze, seeing the hurt in his eyes.

“I didn’t know what to think,” you admitted, your voice shaking as tears started to form in your eyes. “I was scared, Jake. I still am. I don’t know what this means for us, or for anything.”

Jake took a deep breath, his eyes softening as he stepped toward you. His hand reached out, gently taking yours, his touch warm and steady. “Baby, I get that this is… huge. It’s not something either of us expected. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words sent a wave of relief washing over you, but the fear was still there, lingering at the edges. You had been so caught up in your panic that you hadn’t allowed yourself to hope for this—that Jake wouldn’t run, that he wouldn’t leave you to handle this alone.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Because I don’t even know if I’m ready for this.”

Jake squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know what the future holds, and yeah, this is scary as hell. But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave, and for the first time in days, you felt a sliver of hope break through the fear. You weren’t alone in this. Jake wasn’t going to leave.

The tears that had welled up in your eyes finally broke free and started to roll down your cheeks as you looked at him, the emotion finally overwhelming you.

“I was so scared,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t know if you’d want this. If you’d want me.”

Jake’s expression softened even further, and without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt as the reality of everything finally hit you. But this time, it didn’t feel as crushing. With Jake’s arms around you, it felt just a little bit lighter.

“This isn't your fault, baby. We both made this baby. I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady. “We’re in this together.”

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in his embrace, the fear still there but no longer as suffocating. With Jake by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.

For the first time since seeing those two pink lines, you allowed yourself to believe that everything might just be okay.

[thefallennightmare]

Masked: Stalker!Noah Sebastian-Teaser #2

Here is another little teaser snippet! I'm still working on it and would like to get it posted sometime this week! Again, this is a reminder that this one shot will be very dark. I will post some of the trigger warnings below. Please read at your own risk and if you don't like the darker things, don't feel like you have to read it!

Snippet below the cut! (no pun intended)

18+ TRIGGER WARNINGS: angst, fluff, language, stalking, breaking and entering, watching someone sleep, blood, some medical talk, a very brief mention of bombing and the aftermath of it, a scene of someone receiving stitches, two mentions of the use of drugging, murder, torture, and smut which includes p in v, primal play, knife play, branding, mask kink, chasing through words, consensual nonconsensual, oral with female and male receiving, fingering, possible anal play, and edging. I might add more to the warnings the further I get along while writing. But for now, these are all the warnings so please, read at your own risk.

My screams echoed off of the crumbling wallpaper. The state of this room paled in comparison to the state my body was currently in. I yanked at the bindings on my wrist, trying to break free, but the metal of the handcuffs continued to bite into my skin. He'd managed to handcuff me to the headboard when I was too distracted with his mouth on my nipples earlier.

Horny bitch.

"Stop moving," the distorted voice demanded while now sitting directly on my hips, forcing me against the bed.

The tip of the knife tried to pierce my skin again causing me to buck up my hips towards him, doing whatever I could to overpower him. His dark eyes drank in the sight of me naked underneath him, blood slowly dripping down from the gash underneath my left breast.

"You're beginning to irritate me," Masked.Omens growled, pressing the knife deeper into my sensitive skin.

"Fuck you!" I spat up at him. "I signed up for sex tonight not to be carved like a fucking pumpkin!"

He tsked, the mask covering all of his facial features besides those eyes and those pump lips; the ones I'd been so desperate to taste. Like last time, he wore his entire get-up with the black jacket, black turtle neck, and black cargo pants. At least he kicked off his boots before he got into the bed with me, but those damn leather gloves and mask is what bothered me the most.

Why couldn't I see him? Feel his skin on mine?

Masked.Omens ignored my curses, simply kept digging the knife into the skin underneath my breast.

"It seems like you need a reminder of who you belong to, angel," his voice was laced with lust and I knew from how hard his dick was pressing against my inner thigh that he was getting off on branding me.

From the angle of my head, I was able to look down and see the mark he was carving. A circle with a dot in the middle.

"You're a psychopath!" I cried out a choked sob.

Masked.Omens clicked his tongue while cocking his head down at me. "I prefer creative."

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

One For The Road [6]

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: You need to get some answers.

A/N: Ahh, we have reached the end! A massive thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading this series! <3

Warnings: Cecil crying (a lot), talk of pregnancy, anxiety, there's a happy ending, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1319

Your first instinct is to leave. Just go. Walk out and drive home and delete his number and never talk to him again. 

But then his panicked face and pleading eyes echoed in your mind, reverberating to the point of madness. 

Just go. Walk out and drive home and delete his number and ignore him for a few days.

But that seemed cruel too. 

You’d only just been doing whatever the hell you and Cecil had been doing recently. Neither of you had talked about what you actually were and besides, it definitely seemed like Danielle and him were no longer seeing each other, or sleeping together. Or…

You needed to know. At the very least, you owed yourself answers.

So, instead, you moped around the house a little, picking halfheartedly at the pancakes Cecil had been making, the ones he’d finished now cold. 

In the rush he’d left his phone upstairs, so it wasn’t as if you could message him about when he’d be back. 

You didn’t know when Harry would return either. Part of you toys with the idea of leaving a note or message for him to contact you when he gets back, just so you could go home and sidestep any possible awkward conversations. 

Just as you are considering what to write, the front door slams open with the kind of force that should have, but luckily didn’t, rip it off its hinges. 

Cecil bursts inside, wide eyed, sweaty, and panicked. He looks delirious, like he’s run twenty miles in the desert with no water. 

He almost doesn’t notice you sitting at the kitchen table as he falls inside, but he manages to stop his body from running up the stairs and grabbing his phone when he sees you. 

Your name falls out of his lips nervously, a whispered mumble that breaks a little at the end. His eyes teary. 

He takes a step forward, his hands twitching at his sides as he goes to reach out for you, but he stops himself. 

“She’s not pregnant.”

You don’t get a chance to answer as all his words come out in a rush of sound. 

“She’s not pregnant, I promise, look I even got the doctor to give me proof.” He pulls out a folded piece of paper from his jeans. “It’s got her signature and the doctor’s contact info, you can check it all online too, make sure it’s real. She said you can call her to confirm that Danielle’s not pregnant, I explained to her, to the Doctor, she was really nice, she said she’d talk to you and-”

“Cecil,” you say softly as you stand and take his shaking hands in yours. “It’s okay.”

“Danielle– we slept together a few times about two months ago, but I always used a condom, always, and they didn’t break. And then we stopped hanging out because she’s…”

You wait, giving him space to finish as you stroke his hand.

“She’s kind of mean, and then we don’t talk, she blocks me and suddenly a few weeks ago she messages me saying she’s pregnant and I’m the Dad and I need to send her all this money.” He looks up at you hopefully. “I, I don’t have that kind of money… She wanted me to go to the first doctor’s appointment and, I think she really did think she was pregnant, but she wasn’t. And, and she told me the date, it was next week. For sure. I remember, I have the message, I can show you. It wasn’t today. Otherwise… otherwise…”

“It’s okay.” You give him a reassuring smile and take the doctor’s letter out of his hands and place it on the table. 

“You hate me…” His voice completely breaks at the end, his face crumpling as the dam bursts and tears start to flow. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” you wrap your arms around him quickly, holding him close and squeezing him tight. You rub his back as he weeps into you, burying his face into your neck. “How could I hate you, hmm?” You kiss his temple and he cries harder. 

“You hate my kisses that much? They make you cry?” You tease lightly, trying to cheer him.

He shakes his head rapidly, still sobbing, but trying to stop. “I love them.” He insists through tears. 

“Yeah?” You kiss his temple again, and then his cheek.

“Yeah, yes, I love them so much, I love you.” He blurts out and then sobs harder in the beat of silence that follows. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Shhh,” you lean back so you can hold his face in both of your hands and look into his eyes. “Why are you sorry, sweet thing?” 

“I, I, I,” he hiccups and swallows trying to force his tears down. “I thought you’d be gone and never speak to me again, and I ran all the way here back from the doctor’s because I didn’t want to be in the car with her for a second longer, and you hate me and now I said I love you and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stroke his cheeks with your thumbs and kiss his lips lightly. His breathing hitches. 

“Cecil,” you say softly, “take a seat and I’ll get you some water.” 

He shakes his head, “Can I hold your hand while you get water?” 

You smile, your chest heavy and you nod. 

He holds your bicep, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as you fill a glass. He sits when you guide him to the table and takes the water when you offer it. He drinks quickly, trying to swallow as much as possible to please you. 

“Hey, don’t choke.” You say gently, taking the glass out of his hands - half full - and sit down next to him. 

He looks at you sadly from under his wet lashes, little shudders of his cries echoing on his body. “I get it… if you don’t want to ever see me again.” 

“Cecil,” You stroke his hair and he presses his head to your hand, closing his eyes. “It’s okay. I promise.” 

His eyes snap open as he looks at you, confusion and shock plastered all over his face. “You…?”

“Me…?” You tease a little. 

“You don’t hate… you want to…?” 

“I want you dummy,” you smile and kiss him again gently, a soft brush of your lips to his.

He moves after you quickly, deepening in kiss and moaning softly. The moment he pulls back he’s crying again. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he waves his hand and wipes at his eyes, “happy tears, happy tears.”

“You’re so sweet.” You give his hand a little squeeze. 

He shakes his head. “I’m a piece of shit. I should have told you… I just didn’t…” He sighs, “I didn’t want to put you off. You’re already so kind and hot and put together, and I’m just-”

“Shh.” You grin and he smiles back. “Besides, we’re not… we never talked about being… you know. We never set any boundaries.” 

He nods. “I’d like to… be like… going steady.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the sincere way he says it, the honesty in his tone just causes joy to bubble in your chest. 

His smile widens as you laugh. “Is that a yes?” 

You nod. “Yes.” 

He grins wildly and kisses all over your face repeatedly until you're laughing so hard you almost can’t breathe. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles as he moves back. 

“Stop saying sorry.” 

“Sorry.” 

You snort and then pause. “Would you still like to come over to mine?” 

His eyes widen a little, glittering in the light. “Three day food and fuck weekend?” 

You let out a bark of laughter and nod. “Three day food and fuck weekend.” 

He kisses you again, sweetly this time. “I don’t deserve you.” He whispers against your lips.

“That’s okay. I don’t deserve you either.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 7: ALL THAT GLITTERS...* [FT. YAPPING TRENT]

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 6 | MASTERLIST | READ CH 8 [soon]

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

warnings: ANGST, SMUT, praise kink, dom/sub switch if u squint, begging, unprotected sex, language, implied anxiety genre: angst, fluff, slow(ish) burn romance wc: ~7.2k

The moment your voice cracked through the phone, Trent exhaled like he was holding his breath all night.

“Trent????” you asked again, wiping your eyes and sitting up against the headboard. You felt comfortable in your safe space, but the tension from Trent’s silence had you more awake than you wanted to be at such an early hour.

“Y/N” he said shakily. “You answered.”

You frowned, still half awake. “Mhm..why wouldn’t I?”

“Been calling you for hours...I thought you were pissed,” he admitted, you could feel the guilt laced in his voice. Your phone had been dead the majority of the night after the interview; mainly due to the onslaught of notifications. “Oh, baby no. I wasn’t ignoring you. My phone died from all the madness and I just..fell asleep.” You yawned, tugging your blanket up towards you. “You were worrying all night?”

“Yeah..I thought I messed up everything,” he murmured, sounding unsure of himself. He was clearly torturing himself all night, thinking you were angry at him, and it pulled at your heartstrings. “I mean..it wasn’t ideal that's for sure,” you admitted. “But it’s not the end of the world Trent. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Still..” he pressed in a heavier tone. “I promised you I would keep this shit away from you and instead I brought you right into it. Everyone knows now.” You sighed, still trying to wake yourself up. He was expecting an angry outburst from you based on the texts you sent, but you weren’t that mad at him, just extremely exhausted.

“You didn’t drag me into anything. It was bound to happen eventually and I knew that when we got together. It’s just...a part of your world I have to get used to, I guess,” the weight of your words sunk in as you said them out loud. There was silence on the other end that stretched for a ridiculously long time. Trent felt uneasy about something, and you could tell he was holding back.

“So...you’re not mad?” he finally asked, sounding so fragile. 

You sighed, wishing you could pull him into a hug from your end of the phone. “Well..I’m not gonna lie and say I’m happy about it.. but I’m not angry either. Just tired.”

“You sure?”

“I promise. It’s just....” you trailed off, trying to gather the thoughts from your sleep induced haze. “It’s been a really long day.”

That caught his attention immediately. He loved to yap. If there was an open ended question that would result in a long conversation, he was definitely going to ask; partially to hear your voice, and the other just to yap.

“What happened? Tell me.”

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your temples as the events from the day rushed back to you. “Love Notes was insane today. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing after your interview. People were coming in asking about the aftershave like I had it already. And to top it off, some kids came in and broke one of the fragrances. It gave me the worst fucking headache ever.” You didn’t feel the need to mention the conversation with your parents or the anxiety attack, it felt too heavy for the moment, and you weren't sure if you were ready to talk about it either.

“Shit. I didn’t know it got that bad. I didn’t know the logo was showing until I read your texts on the plane. How are you feeling? You should drink more water,” he rambled, sounding completely spent but still holding on for the yap session.

“I feel better... but Camille keeps bringing up hiring an assistant and..I just don’t know.”

Trent’s voice perked up slightly, “Well..baby she’s not wrong.” You rolled your eyes, feeling annoyed that he was suggesting it as well. “Trent. Don’t start. I’ve heard enough from everyone already.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I know,” you interrupted, sounding more sharp than you intended to. “Everyone thinks I can’t handle it. I don’t get why no one believes I can do this on my own? It’s my business.” Trent was silent for a while, and you felt bad for snapping, but the frustration was building all day. “Y/N...nobody thinks you can’t handle it,” he said gently. “But you’re only one person. You can’t do everything by yourself.”

“Yeah, but it feels like no one believes in me,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “What if I can handle it? Like, what if I don’t need an assistant? It’s fine. I’m fine.” Trent sighed, his voice softer. “No one doubts you’re not good at what you do, Y/N. Everyone has their limit. Tyler helps me out all the time. You should think about it, it’s not a bad idea.”  You sighed, feeling a little deflected. “Okayyyy. I’ll think about it.” He laughed at your annoyance with him, a brief silence following before he spoke again in a softer voice. “I haven’t slept all night and it’s almost 5AM.”

“Trent, what the hell? You’ve been up this entire time?” 

“Yeah,” he said, voice wound with exhaustion. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Aww. Baby, you have to go to sleep. Please..for me?” you murmured, dropping your voice.

“I will. Just wanted to hear your voice…”

“You heard it..now go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” you said gently, knowing he would want to yap even more.

He let out a tired chuckle but you could hear the weariness in his voice. “I wish you were here...next to me.” His sleepy admission made you smile. “I wish I was too. But pleaseee go to bed. Just call me when you wake up.”

He hummed in response, still talking but whispering. “Mm, yeah. Sleep. Just wanna be with you. Always…”  

You giggled softly, “We have plenty of time for that later. Just sleep.” He continued talking, slurring his words as he slowly lost his grip on consciousness. “When the season is over...we should go on holiday. Just us.” You perked up at the idea, remembering you were thinking the same thing earlier. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

“Don’t care as long as I’m with you...somewhere warm,” he mumbled. “Santorini...or south of France.” You smiled hearing him planning already, despite being half awake. “What about the Maldives? Oh! Oh!! Or maybe St. Barths?”

“Hawaii,” he added sleepily, his words getting slower and slower. “11 hour time difference though, we’d be so jet lagged.”

“Yeah, but it would be worth it just to be with you on the beach somewhere. I heard Ka'anapali is nice.”

“Yeah…just..us” his voice was fading fast, sleep pulling him into a dream about your future holiday. “I love you.” 

You froze immediately.

You could’ve sworn you heard him say 'I love you', but you thought for sure you misheard him. It was late and you were both exhausted. There’s no way he said that.

Right?

No no no, he didn’t. You were probably mishearing him. He definitely said “I’d love to.” That made a lot more sense given the conversation. You heard it wrong. You were sure you did.

“Trent?” you whispered, but the sound of soft breathing let you know he was already fast asleep. You leaned back against the pillows, trying to convince yourself you definitely didn’t hear him say those words for the first time while he was half asleep. He was exhausted, you were tired...it obviously had to be ‘I’d love to.’ You pressed the button to end the call, dropping your phone next to you as you pulled the blankets around yourself. As you drifted back to sleep, you convinced yourself whatever you heard was a figment of your overworked, sleepy imagination.

Maybe you did need an assistant.

A few hours later you woke up, groaning into your pillow as the memory of last night came up in your mind:

‘I love you’ or ‘I’d love to’ ?

It felt like a dream, but it wasn’t. You sat up, trying to shake the drowsiness off. There’s absolutely no way he said that half asleep, over the phone. You were delusional and exhausted from everything going on. Clearly, you were running yourself into the ground, and now you were hearing things. Camille was right.

You grabbed your phone to scroll through the endless notifications from yesterday. There were texts and calls from people you barely knew, all asking for 'The Trent Scent'. It felt like the whole world was on your ass about it. You never planned for anyone to know it existed, yet suddenly it was all anyone cared about. You wanted to crawl back in bed and rot for a week but you knew better, you had things to handle. Which now included possibly finding an assistant. You hated admitting Camille and Trent were right, but it was becoming too much. You dragged yourself out of bed and tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen, where Camille was making some weird health nut smoothie. She glanced up when she saw you, stifling a laugh. “Morning, babe. You look terrible.” You rolled your eyes, leaning against the counter. “I feel like shit. Didn’t sleep great.”

“Rough night?” Camille asked, turning off the blender. She poured two glasses and handed you one. “Try this. It’ll make you feel better. Trust.” 

You eyed the glass skeptically. “What’s in it? Why is it three different colors?”

“Strawberries, dates, collagen powder, sea moss, avocado..some other stuff.” Camille grinned, sipping from her glass. “It’s really good, I swear.” You reluctantly took a sip, expecting to frown immediately–but it actually wasn’t bad. It tasted like dessert for breakfast, but was somehow healthy. “Okay.. this is so good,” you muttered between sips. 

“See?” Camilled said, smirking. “I tried it at Erewhon when I went to LA. My skin is glowing. It’s the collagen.” You couldn’t deny it tasted amazing, but you silently laughed at Camille finding a way to bring Erewhon across continents. Your mind faltered back to the conversation you had with Trent a couple of hours ago and you groaned.

“Camille…I think I’m losing it. Actually going mad. Legitimately.” 

Camille snorted, almost choking on her smoothie. “You’re so dramatic Y/N. What’s up?” You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. “I was on the phone last night with Trent, and I swear I heard him say ‘I love you.’”

“Okay… andddd?”

“I don’t know!” you blurted, throwing your hands up dramatically. “He was half asleep, I was knackered..I had to mishear him. I think he said ‘I’d love to’ because we were talking about going on holiday. He had to or else it doesn’t make sense, right?” Camille gave you an amused look. “A bit random to say it mid-snooze, yeah. But..nothing about the two of you is ordinary in the slightest. Stranger things have happened. What did you say back?”

“Obviously nothing!! Hung up and convinced myself I imagined it. I was so tired.”

Camille laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, he’s definitely in deep..so who knows. Maybe you didn’t imagine it, but what’s the big deal? You love him, no?” You bit your lip, contemplating. “It’s just..ugh. I don’t know. Everything is moving so chaotically..” Camille studied you for a moment, like she knew something you hadn’t figured out just yet; she would wait until you figured it out yourself. “That brings me to my next point...you need help at the boutique. Especially now.”

You groaned again, “I get it!! Why does everyone keep reminding me?”

“Because it's true! You’re doing the work of like five different people. And girl, I love you, but I’m exhausted just watching you move like this.”

“I’m fine!” you whined, though the fatigue in your face told a different story. “It’s just a little rough patch. No biggie.” Camille gave you a pointed look. “You fell asleep before I could even pour any wine last night. That’s not a rough patch babes, you’re running on fumes. I can’t believe you did me like that.” You scowled at her, not wanting to admit she had a point. “I’m just scared…I put my whole life into that place.”

“I get why you’re protective over it. But an assistant could help out a lot. Plus, you’ll be able to spend more time with Trent.” You sighed, giving in a little. Having more free time did sound nice, regardless of Trent being included in the perk. “Fine. But I’m picking who gets hired.”

“Fucking finally,” Camille laughed. “But I’m still helping.” You dropped your jaw in disbelief, partially smirking. “No help from your dad, though.”

“Our dad, you mean. But yeah, I promise. Cross my heart and all that,” Camille said, crossing her fingers.

You smiled, reaching for your laptop, eager to get it over with. “Let’s just get this sorted before I regret it,” you muttered while logging in to draft the job posting. Camille grabbed her phone, glancing over your shoulder as she watched you type. “The charity gala is coming up in a couple weeks..do you know what you and Trent are wearing yet?” You gasped, fingers pausing over the keyboard. “I forgot all about that..oh my days. I really am losing it.” 

“Y/N, how could you forget?! I can’t wait to see what everyone wears.” You let out a small laugh, trying to focus on the job posting. “Clearly I’ve been busy. I just hope it isn’t as chaotic as last time. I think I reached my limit for that this year already.” Camille smirked, “Speaking of chaos..remind me to take Jude’s phone the moment he grabs a drink. We don’t need another Paris situation.” You bursted out laughing, “A little too late for that, I think. I’m actually tired of tiptoeing around..people know anyway.” 

“Oooh, thinking about an official pop out?” Camille asked, curiously.

“Absolutely not. But I just don’t see the point anymore. Maybe people will leave me alone if I just give them what they want.” The gears started turning in your head as soon as the words left your lips. If people were going to keep hounding you about Rêveur, maybe you could do something meaningful with it. “...What if I released a limited batch of Rêveur for the gala? And all proceeds go to charity?” Camille smiled excitedly, clasping her hands together. “Y/N, you’re a genius!”

“I’ll have to talk to Trent first, though…it’s his.” 

Camille waved her hands dismissively, sucking her teeth, “Please. He’ll be all for it. He was waving the bottle around on camera like he was paid billions. I’ve never seen that man advertise anything with that much excitement.” You nodded as the idea swirled around in your mind, just as you hit ‘publish’ on the job posting. “Yeah..I’ll talk to him.”

A few days later, you stepped into a restaurant, your heels clanked against the marble floor as Trent’s hand found your lower back to guide you inside. The restaurant had an intimate feel; the lighting was low, with a soft glow from the candles on the tables. From the moment you walked in, eyes were on the two of you. Trent had on an all white fit, crisp lines tailored his shirt and trousers; it looked gorgeous against his brown skin; he was also wearing an Audemars Piguet watch, the scent of Rêveur clinging to his skin. You were wearing a dress that hugged every curve just right, the fabric shimmering ever so slightly. Your heels caught in the light, adding a few extra inches to make your legs look longer. Your perfume was a soft, warm scent of amber and vanilla, which paired perfectly with his aftershave.

“You look incredible, Y/N. And you smell so damn good,” Trent whispered in your ear. He gently spun you around, taking in the full view as his eyes ran over your body, lingering his gaze on the way your skin was glowing under the dim lighting. “So fucking beautiful baby.”

You bit your lip, feeling your confidence soar from his praise. “Thanks.. but you’re kinda eating me up with that watch,” you teased, eyeing how he looked in the crisp shirt that clung to his body just right. “Nah..I wore this for you ‘cause it has the moon on it. Reminds me of my girl,” he winked, kissing you softly on the lips. You could feel heat surging within you, but you played it off and headed to a table that was tucked away in a private area with the perfect view of the city. While you were eating dinner, Trent couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was staring at you more than he was eating, complimenting you every few minutes. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect. I’m lucky as hell.” You giggled, picking up your wine glass before taking a sip. “I think you said that like ten times tonight.” “And I’ll say it for an eleventh time..you’re so beautiful, baby. I mean it every time. You’re stunning.” You could see his eyes dropping to your chest before meeting your gaze again with a smirk. You and Trent hadn’t really seen each other much the past few weeks due to your schedules, but made a plan to have a date night after the interview fiasco. He was definitely upping the ante; everything felt so deeply intimate and sensual. Trent leaned back in his chair, eyes still transfixed on you. You thought back to the phone call the two of you had a couple of days ago when you thought you heard him say ‘I love you’. He didn’t say anything else since then, so it was clear you more than likely heard him wrong, but still.. you wondered. Now wasn’t the time though, you didn’t want to make anything awkward. He was sitting across from you looking like a dream, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin the mood. Trent’s thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of your hand, his eyes still hypnotised by your beauty. You both knew where the night was heading, but teasing him was much more fun.

“So..for the gala” you began, trailing your fingers around the rim of the wine glass with your other hand, his eyes watching every movement. “I was thinking we could do a release of Rêveur and just give the proceeds to charity. What do you think?” You were slowly rubbing your leg against his under the table. Trent’s eyes widened when your heels grazed his ankle. “Yeah..that’s a..uhh..erm..really good idea. Let’s do it.” He could barely get the words out, he was completely flustered. You smiled innocently, letting the strap of your dress slip from your shoulder. “Yeah? Everyone keeps begging for it sooo..let’s give the people what they want..” you paused, sliding your heel off and pressing your foot directly into his lap. You could feel his dick twitch underneath you, “may as well make it worthwhile.” His entire body stiffened and his hand slid down to grab your calf, his fingers circling lazy on your glowing skin. He was trying to make you beg for him, but you were determined to have the upper hand tonight, for now anyway.

“Baby...c’mon. You’re not even playing fair right now” he muttered in a hoarse voice.

“What? I’m just talking about the gala…” you bantered, giving him a sultry look as you pressed your foot against his hard on. You could feel his body shudder against the pressure, his cock twitching even more. “Why are you so distracted, babe?” He squeezed your leg tighter, letting out a shaky breath. “Y/N...we need to leave. Right now.” You grinned, pushing him further. “But we haven’t finished finalizing plans yet..” You applied more pressure, watching him suck in a breath. “We can’t leave out all the details Trent.”

“Baby, please,” he whispered. His hand was trembling as he stroked the skin below the hem of your dress. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but alas, you wanted to push him farther one more time. “We need to get out of here before I lose my mind in front of all these people.” You laughed, leaning forward to stand up. “Fine..but you need to help me first.” He gave you a confused look until you lifted your leg back on his lap. “Put my heel back on, pretty please?” you said innocently, yet the look you were giving him was anything but. He swallowed hard as his gaze traveled up your leg. If there wasn’t anyone else in the restaurant, he probably would’ve bent you over the table right then. Your dress slid just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the lace thong you were wearing, and it nearly did him in. His hands were shaking as he slid the heel back on your foot. He placed a kiss on your ankle, muttering something about how you were going to pay for it later. You grinned, standing up straighter to smooth your dress out. “What was that babe? Did you say something?” He shook his head, standing up quickly and taking your hand in his. “Let’s go Y/N. Now.”

As soon as Trent unlocked the door you barely had a chance to step inside before his hands were all over you. “You’re a fucking tease,” he growled. He lifted you up, flinging you over his shoulder. “Trent! Put me down!!” you squealed, lightly hitting his back. “Be quiet” he ordered, smacking your ass. The sting of it sent a thrill straight between your legs. “I’m gonna give you something to really scream about.” You made a mental note to tease him more often, this was hot. He was a man on a mission as he carried you up the stairs, you were getting wetter by the second. Once he finally tossed you on the bed, you were pretty sure your thong was soaked. “You were so bad tonight.” he said, sliding his hands down your body to grab the hem of your dress. “Rubbing your foot against me under the table like that..trying to make me lose my mind in front of everybody.” You bit your lip feeling him tug at your dress. You heard the sound of fabric ripping and you gasped. “Wh–”

“I’ll buy another one,” he interrupted, leaving you in nothing but the thong. You were about to say something sassy until his fingers hooked your thong and you heard another rip echo in the room. You were already arching against his hands as his eyes drank you in. “I’m in charge now” His fingers found your clit immediately, rubbing circles that had you bucking your hips. “Wanna be a good girl for me now, yeah?” You were a moaning mess already, head falling against the pillows trying to catch your breath. “Yes, yesss,” you pant, already close from how pent up you were. This was the first time the two of you were having sex in weeks, and your body was aching for him. He pinched one of your nipples between his fingers with his other hand, as his fingers sped up on your clit.

“T-Trent, baby.. I’m so close.”

“No,” he huffs, pulling his hand away and leaving you on the verge of sobbing. “Not until I tell you to.” Your breath hitched and you nodded quickly, spreading your legs wider for him. He wasted no time dipping his fingers back inside you, groaning from how wet you were. His thumb encircled your clit again, rubbing teasing circles to set you off. “Look at you, Y/N. Such a good girl.” You moaned loudly, rocking against his hand. “Mm..oh my god, yes.” He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting a different angle that made your back arch off the bed as a mewl escaped your lips. “Just like that, baby. You sound so fucking beautiful moaning for me.” His praise was setting off a flame within you, making you say things you didn’t even realize you were saying.

“Ooh, fuck. Do whatever you want to me, please,” you beg, grinding against his fingers. You were on the verge of an orgasm and he could tell; he applied a little more pressure to your clit and whispered in your ear. “Show me how much you love being my good girl. Cum on my fingers, baby. Give it to me.” You squeezed your eyes shut, curving your back as you moaned his name, waves of pleasure enveloping you as you fluttered around his fingers. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice filled with pride. “So fucking pretty when you cum.” Just as you were coming back to earth, he pulled his fingers out of you and lined his cock, pushing inside you in a smooth thrust.

“Fuck!” you both moan in unison, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. He moved slow at first, trying to savour the moment, but then picked up the pace, gripping your hips. “You feel so fucking good. Goddamn, Y/N.” he grits out, thrusting into you harder. You were still sensitive but you wrapped your legs around him to pull him deeper. “Oh my god, Trent…”

“Yeah?” he groaned, fucking into you deeper. “You like that? I feel you squeezing me.”

“I love it,” you moan, dragging your nails down the skin on his back. “I missed your dick. I missed you. So. so. Much.”

He picked up the pace, thrusting into your g spot with every deep stroke. “Such a good girl for me now that I'm giving you what you want, huh? Just for me.” His praise made you moan louder, your body moving in tandem with his to match his rhythm. You whispered teasingly in his ear. “I love when you fuck me like this. You’re so good to me Trent.” He cursed under his breath, thrusting even harder and deeper from your seductive tone. “Keep talking to me, baby. I want to hear you,” he breathes while his hand slipped between your legs to massage your clit. “You’re gonna make me cum again,” you whimper, feeling the tension build inside you. “You fuck me soo good. Am I taking it good for you?”

“Ah, fuck,” he growls, thrusting into you erratically and moving faster on your clit. He didn’t answer your question, but you knew the answer already. “Cum for me baby. I wanna feel that pussy cum all over me.” Your second orgasm was so much more intense than the first. You were clawing his back, leaving love marks as you screamed his name. Trent was barely able to hold back anymore, and groaned into your ear while your pussy quivered around him. “I’m about to cum baby, where do you want it?” You could barely catch your breath, but his words reignited something sinfully wicked inside of you. “Inside me,” you beg in a shaky voice. “Please. I need you to fill me up.”

“Fuck..fuck..fuck” he groaned, burying himself deep inside your pussy. His cock pulsed as the ropes of cum spilled inside you. The warmth from his cum made you moan with satisfaction. Neither of you wanted to move off of each other after that, and it wasn’t like he was going to let you in the first place; The man had been entranced all night, and you were enjoying every second of it. He placed a soft kiss to your lips, “You did take it good for me, by the way. Such a good girl.” You giggled, still in a daze from your high. “I think you need to talk to me like that more often. That’s so sexy.”

After a couple of minutes of cuddling, you ran your hand across his chest. “So...Rêveur,” you said softly, glancing up at him

“Hm? What about it?”

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty for asking him while he was so riled up earlier. Right now was a much better time to ask since both of your heads were clearer. “Are you actually okay if I release it for the gala? I know I brought it up earlier but…” Trent’s hand slid to your back, tracing the curve of your spine. “Yeah, it’s fine baby. It’s for a good reason, I’m all for it. Plus, I can brag more about how good you make me smell.” You giggled, reaching up to give him a kiss. “Okay..let’s make it happen then.”

A brief silence fell over the room before Trent pulled you closer to him, nuzzling into your neck, like he was trying to butter you up. “So...how’s the assistant search going?” he asked, very carefully testing the waters.

You groaned, running your fingers over his hair. “It’s...going. I have some interviews tomorrow. So that means we can’t stay up all night.” He pretended to be annoyed as he squeezed your waist. “Baby, it’s been weeks though!” You laughed, shifting around to look at him. “You’re acting like you’re starving. We just finished.”

“Maybe I am,” he shot back. “One round is just a warm up.”

“Oh, hush!” you teased, rolling your eyes. “You’ll survive until tomorrow. I can’t be late, seriously this time.” He laughed, remembering the chaos from when both of you overslept after a long night of fun. Trent reached for his phone, setting multiple alarms to make sure you were up on time. “We’ll see how the morning goes..” he smirked, pulling you close. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight” you whispered, snuggling into him. The alarms tomorrow would surely wake you up, or maybe not, depending on how bold Trent was feeling when they went off.

The next morning, you tried to slip out of bed as the alarms blared in the background, but Trent’s hand tightened around you, pulling you into him. “Where you going?” he mumbled sleepily.

“I have to get ready..” you whispered.

“A couple more minutes…” he teased, kissing the back of your neck.

Of course you gave in. One thing led to another and your ‘quickie’ turned into a full blown session, leaving you scrambling to get dressed. Trent’s home looked a little different now. A lot of your things found their place right next to his. Your toothbrush was next to his, your skincare products were neatly placed on his bathroom counter, and your clothes were starting to take up half his closet. Unintentionally, you made his place yours–and he made your place, his. 

“I’m gonna be late!” you laughed, grabbing your bag. Trent stood in the living room, grinning from ear to ear with no regrets. “I woke you up on time though. You’re welcome,” he said, looking amused and very proud of himself. You shot him a playful glare before giving him a kiss goodbye and heading out the door.

Camille was already lounging behind the counter with a smirk on her face when you got to Les Notes d’Amour. “You have a little glow going on today....Trent I’m guessing?? You’re cutting it kinda close babe.”

“Shut up Camille! I’m here now, okay?”

“Barely.” Camille giggled. 

You dropped your bag on the counter, trying to compose yourself. You looked pretty put together, but Camille could read you like a book. “I was multitasking.”

“Right..is that what it’s called now?” she shot back, bursting into laughter. “Anyway, are we ready for this madness? You said there were tons of applications, yeah?” You sighed, settling into a chair as you tried to mentally prepare yourself for the day. “Yeah, but I narrowed it down to four. I just hope they’re not all weird.” Camille grinned, always down for some fun. “There’s always one. Let’s just hope they’re entertaining.”

The first candidate carried themselves like they were about to conduct a TED Talk. He didn't waste any time before launching into an introduction that sounded like a dissertation for a doctorate degree. “Fragrance is an intricate balance of compounds and molecular distillation processes. When properly executed, it can maximize olfactory efficiency over time.”

What the fuck is he going on about? 

Both you and Camille looked at each other, confusion etched on your faces. You nodded, pretending like you understood whatever the hell he was saying. “Sooo, what’s your experience with retail?” you asked, attempting to steer the convo back to something more understandable. “Well, I have a passion for molecular evaporation techniques. Retail is secondary,” the guy continued, unphased. “You see, when certain notes are distilled just right…” You suppressed your laughter throughout the rest of the interview, eventually ending the conversation. As soon as the door closed, Camille scrunched her face up, “What the hell was that??”

Candidate two walked in with crystal necklaces and smelled strongly of patchouli. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes to feel the energy of the space.

“This place has such an unbalanced aura, but I can fix that.”

Camille eyed her with intrigue. “I’m curious to know how you’re going to do that?”

The candidate pulled out a rose quartz crystal, holding it up to the light. “I’ll align the energy of all the fragrances to my chakras. It’s all about cleansing the vibes in here. Very dark energy in this place.” You looked around confused. What is a chakra? You didn’t know how to respond, so you asked her about her experience in retail.

“My energy speaks for itself” she replied, setting the crystal on the table.

Camille giggled, “Does your energy know how to answer phones and emails?” The candidate gave Camille a sweet smile, not answering the question at all. “It’s all a part of a bigger cosmic picture. You’ll see soon enough.”

Umm, okay girl, anyway...

“Of course I picked all the weird people”, you told Camille as the chakra girl left.

The bell above the door chimed when the next candidate walked in: Ember.

She was beautifully striking with vibrant red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She was tall like a Willow tree; she definitely could’ve just stepped off a NYFW runway. She wore a black turtleneck, paired with tailored trousers..very sleek and minimalist. She had a confident smile that immediately drew you in when she gave you a firm handshake. 

Finally, someone professional.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Ember began with a composed voice. “I’ve seen a lot of your work over the years. Love your use of tuberose in your collections.” You blinked, surprised. Not many people knew about that detail unless they followed your work closely. It was an interesting observation, but she had probably just done her research before the interview to impress you. The interview continued smoothly, Ember talked about her experience handling high-end clients, managing orders, and had a knowledgeable demeanour. But something about how she navigated conversations so easily gave you an odd vibe. It wasn’t enough to question her, but it was strange.

When she left, you glanced at Camille. “What do you think?” Camille shrugged, “She’s good. Knows her stuff.”

The last candidate was Tara. She was the complete opposite of Ember in appearance, but was eye-catching in her own way. She had a bubbly personality, was short, and had curly black hair that framed her face. She wore oversized frames that made her look a bit whimsical, as if she had just come out of a cartoony fairytale. Her outfit was playful, yet chic. She wore patterned trousers with a tucked in blouse, paired with trendy boots. She was full of energy.

“Hiii! So excited to be here!” Tara said enthusiastically, but not too loud. You smiled at her energy, but Camille leaned back in her chair, intrigued by the shift in energy. The moment Tara sat down, she started talking about how much she loved perfume. “I’ve been obsessed with fragrances since I was a kid. My mum used to take me to try samples all the time!” She didn’t have the same polished demeanour as Ember, but her enthusiasm was refreshing and felt genuine. She said she was still in uni, but wanted to gain more experience. Camille glanced over at you, trying to feel out the vibe. “So, how do you balance uni and everything? Must be chaotic.” Tara nodded, “It is but I thrive on chaos.” She pushed her glasses up, grinning playfully. “My love for perfume keeps me sane..and footie.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Footie??”

“Oh yeah! Massive Liverpool fan,” she said casually. “Always in red!”

Oh, if only you knew.

You smiled, relaxing a little. “Same…” Tara quickly moved on to talk about her top perfumes, and how she loved the creativity of fragrance making. You felt like she could fit in well, especially with her easy-going vibe. You were thankful she didn't mention anything about Trent. Camille’s voice broke you out from your thoughts and you realized you spaced out after Tara left. “Footie, huh? Maybe she wants your man,” Camille teased. You shook your head quickly. “Eh, doubt it. She’s just excited about the club, I think. Can’t blame her, they’re great.”

“Well…whoever you hire. You should make them sign an NDA.”

“Huh? For an assistant?? That’s a bit much, no?” you frowned, confused on why she would recommend something like that. It’s not like they were going to be around Trent often.

Camille shrugged, her tone casual as she glanced back at the CVs on the table. “Maybe. But now that you and Trent are more public..it really might not be a bad idea. People talk.” You nodded, but you weren’t fully convinced. “I guess...but I don’t really see the point right now. They probably won’t even be around him.” Camille knew you were stubborn as a mule, and didn’t push it any further. You signed off on the paperwork to hire Ember full-time, and Tara part-time, while Camille continued looking at both their CVs. Her eyes lingered on the part of Tara’s that mentioned she was studying public relations in uni.

“PR, huh?” Camille muttered under her breath, too quiet for you to catch.

When you made it back to Trent's house, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The interviews drained you more than you expected. You sank into the couch, letting out a long sigh. Trent's aftershave lingered in the air, it was a scent you had grown accustomed to smelling all the time, and it made your heart warm every time. Trent was still at training, so you decided to binge one of the best Love Island seasons while you waited for him.

When Trent got back home, he wandered to the living room to find you sprawled out on the couch half way into a season of Love Island. You looked up at him, grinning. “Hi baby! Come watch, you have to see this recoupling.” He reluctantly sat down, acting like he didn’t care. “I don’t know how you watch this shit.” It didn’t take long for him to get sucked into the drama, though. Callum had just come back from Casa Amor with a new girl. Gemma stayed loyal the whole time and looked like she was either going to cry or kill him. Both??

“Nah! No way he did that to her!” Trent blurted out, forgetting he wasn’t supposed to care. His eyes were glued to the screen as his head lay in your lap. You stifled a laugh, glancing down at him in amusement. “Oh, all of a sudden you care now?”

“I don’t care,” he muttered, eyes still fully on the screen. “She’s gutted though.” You burst out laughing, “Trent, why are you into this more than I am?”

“Shut up…”

Gemma turned away, refusing to look at Callum. Trent’s jaw dropped. “Nah he’s finished. She’s not going to stay, right? You already saw this one???” You shrugged, trying to keep the suspense, “Keep watching and see.” A few minutes passed and the entire villa was in shambles. People were crying, yelling, storming off. It was hilariously chaotic. Trent shook his head, not believing what he was watching. “Shit’s scripted. Why do you watch this?”

“Because it's hilarious,” you replied. “The drama is better when you’re not a part of it.”

“Yeah..but would you couple up with me if we were on the show?” Trent asked playfully. You looked at him, pretending to think about it. “I dunno. You might come back with a girl like Callum.”

“Nah! Never!”

You shrugged, running your hands over his hair. “Sorry, baby.. but I would have to couple up with someone else.” You said it so seriously that Trent almost believed you before you both burst out laughing. 

“I’d choose you every time, Y/N..” he said, sitting up and leaning in closer. “I’m not just saying that either. I mean it. Every. Single. Time.” Your heart was almost beating out of your chest, the teasing from earlier disappearing completely. “You really mean that?”

He nodded, his gaze faltering to your lips before he pulled you in for a tender kiss. “Never been more sure.” Trent’s eyes locked on yours after the kiss, and without any hesitation, he said it. Perfectly clear, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you.”

So simple and matter-of-fact. It hit you like a ton of bricks.

You blinked, mostly out of shock as the realization washed over you. He did say it. He said it before, too. The night when he fell asleep on the phone. You weren’t imagining things. He was in love with you.

He loves me. Oh my god. This is real. Like we’re in it now. This is serious.

Your thoughts tumbled over themselves. Trying to make sense of the whirlwind the last couple of months had been. Your body honestly didn’t know how to react. Part of you wanted to kiss him, the other part of you wanted to tell him to shut up, another part of you wanted to get up and run away, your conscience wanted to tell him you loved him back. The stakes were even higher now.

“Y/N??” Trent’s voice pulled you out of your head. He noticed how quiet you were. You looked up at him, eyes wide and glassy, unsure of what to say exactly. He didn’t look worried at all, though. He wasn’t second guessing his words. He was just watching you, observing and waiting patiently with reassurance in his expression.

“I..” you started, but your voice faltered. What the hell were you supposed to say? Did you love him or not? 

I don't know if I'm ready for this. But I think I love him too? Ugh, everything's going so fast.

Everything was moving too quickly in your mind and somehow.. still not fast enough. You couldn’t deny the way his words made your heart swell, but you also didn’t feel ready yet. Maybe it was self-sabotage? Or maybe you were just in shock?? You swallowed hard, trying to blink back the tears pooling in your eyes. You weren’t sad, but everything felt extremely overwhelming.

How is he so sure?

Trent didn’t push you, though. He smiled, brushing his thumb over your lips. “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I just wanted you to know.” You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. He loved you.

It was terrifying, exhilarating, and intoxicating all at the same time.

Just as you were trying to make sense of everything, a lurking, whispering voice came creeping in from the corners of your mind, like when the moon crosses the sun.

What if fate was never on your side? The sun can't shine forever, right? The tension from thunder and lightning only happens when it's about to rain.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading! i appreciate each and every one of you that take the time to read this. lmk what you think

[beegswaz]

im Going to Start fucking Maiming no nvm. Anger has become sadness. Again. good Night i cant do this Shit rn

[cyrafoam]

so. um-

*leaves this on the table and runs away*

[call-me-copycat]

I just need to be told "You Can Do It" right now.

[ganondoodle]

as cool as their design is im really starting to dislike the sonau in general, aside from their stuff suddendly being everywhere and everything being about them and how cool(tm) they are now with the mystery stone turning people into dragons and the similarities between the sonau and the three dragons (naydra, eldra, farodra) its actually not an impossibility that they used to be sonaus as alot of people have been theorizing about ..but ...... idk that would very much ruin their otherwordly yet ethereal mystery to me

i probably sound like some hater whos trying to find something more to dislike about totk all the time but i promise im not!!

the three dragons being some unexplained mystery, beings that are there yet few can see them, timeless, nigh untouchable, they dont act on anything, they dont talk, something about them has always made me look at them in awe; if it turned out they were just yet another cool(tm) sonau guy that ate a stone ... :/

not a fan of that one lads, but dont worry, i will keep my thoughts to myself from now on, i dont want to ruin other peoples fun nor seem like i just hate everything ... the three dragons are just really important to me so i had to say something

[urplepurplegurgleturgle]

Sometimes I hate having the latest timezone because I get really insecure at night but everyone's asleep so I can't ask for a hug from my family and god it kind of sucks

[feral-radfem]

All of y'all pretending like heterosexual women are the only ones who experience misogyny, or experience the most misogyny, are not (just) being homophobic, you're being misogynistic.

You're denying women's sex based oppression is real or it's severity. So maybe sit down and shut up and realize that we are still women despite the fact that we are not sleeping with men. You have the ability to make the choice not to sleep with men too. It's not an inaction unique to homosexuals.

I will spread any feminist praxis I want, and if it's insulting for me to reiterate the ideals we preach in these spaces because I'm a homosexual then you can go ahead and be insulted. SSA women have just as much claim to these spaces as you do because we are women and these spaces are for fighting misogyny, which we all experience. It's not just for tackling the misogyny y'all are uncomfortable with, it's for tackling all of it. Get with the program, ladies.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

sat down to think about the Light's Out au and actually. yk. plan it out since i have Affection for it and Interest in it. and then my brain went "what about the aftermath though. why don't we meticulously plan that out" I'VE BEEN TYPING IN THIS DOCUMENT FOR FIVE HOURS straight GAY

[whack-patty]

So guess who completely forgot that chocolate milk and strawberry milk is such a big internet thing and made a poll in the heat of the moment and now my inbox is full of T H E funniest tags but also now i can't find any of the non chocolate/strawberry milk debate stuff in the chocolate/strawberry milk flood i am drowning in

GOOD GOLLY

[kirishwima]

can people leave me alone. AT LEAST on my days off

[xxlelaxx]

I don't think my husband understands that there is a big difference between the kind of sleep I've been getting and the kind of sleep he's been getting. It's starting to make me very angry